There are certain things in this universe that are so near impossible that people consider them to be impossible anyway, such as falling off the Empire State Building and surviving or decimating humanity with a single thought (fortunately for us). Since I do not own the setting or characters of this story, it is logical to assume that some elements of its plot will be near impossible, such as Bellatrix barging her way into Harry's dwelling without posing a threat and Harry allowing Bellatrix to insult his godfather. The same thing dawned on Harry as he woke up the next morning, and with his first few steps out of bed, he decided it was all just a horrid dream.
As he went about his daily routine, he realized this was not the case. Bellatrix was sleeping on the couch downstairs, having taken care to follow Harry's instructions and get herself cleaned up, and as he showered, he noticed that she'd also taken care to use up all the hot water. It had only been one night and her company was already tedious. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered to himself, throwing on some clothes and creeping out the front door slowly, careful not to disturb her. While he left, he stared down at her gaunt form for a few seconds, cringing in disgust. The sleeve of her robes was pulled up, exposing her Dark Mark, and she was snoring. Loudly. Leaving at last, he slammed the door as hard as he could, as to wake the portrait of Mrs. Black, who wouldn't mind Bellatrix, but would probably scream for a few minutes nonetheless. He rather enjoyed the prospect of going out of his way to annoy her--it's not as if she could have left.
Stopping at the nearest payphone, he called Hermione, then Ron, who was able to answer thanks to his father's tinkerings with a 'cellyfone'. He instructed both of them to meet him at a Muggle pub not far from where he was, so as to not be overheard by anyone they knew. He had sat there waiting for hours, taking the remnants and leftovers of other people's liquor, since he couldn't order any of his own (anything to keep his mind off Sirius), and, at long last, they came. He spotted Ron's flame-red hair immediately, and Hermione followed behind. "Alright, mate, what's this about?" Ron asked, anticipating answers.
Rather than letting it sink in gradually or taking it slow, Harry sputtered out, "Bellatrix Lestrange has broken into my house!"
"WHAT?" Hermione asked in shock.
"You have a house?" Ron asked jealously.
"Yes, 12 Grimmauld Place," Harry answered.
"Has she threatened you? What's she doing?" Hermione pressed for answers.
"She's not trying to kill me or anything," Harry insisted, leaving out the part about getting tortured. After all, what other way was there to break into a house? "She says she just needs shelter. And she gave me a rather cryptic remark. I don't know exactly what she said, but I think she was denying her loyalty to Voldemort."
"Well, of course. If you're breaking and entering, what else would you say?" Hermione said. "She could be useful," she continued. "Don't get rid of her just yet." Harry scowled in confusion. "Don't you see, Harry? You can use her as a hostage, or pry information from her!" Hermione exclaimed. Though Harry was reluctant to proceed, he slowly nodded. But how was he going to get any answers out of Bellatrix?
Ron had provided the solution to that one. "Take this mate," he said, pulling a can from his pocket. "Another Fred and George original. Just find some ridiculous excuse to get her to drink it, and then interrogate her."
Although Harry already had a pretty good guess, he asked, "What is it?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Verita-soda," she answered. "Ron's been looking for an opportunity to test it all week." Harry turned the can over in his hands, nodding at the quick and narratively convenient solution.
"Thanks," he said, still able to control his function of speech but beginning to sway slightly from the effects of the alcohol. "Tell Dumbledore that he can't use Grimmauld Place as the Order headquarters for a while," he said with a very subtle slur, "But don't tell him about Bellatrix, I don't want him to worry." Ron began to lead him out of the pub, as the owner was starting to get very suspicious, and they exchanged goodbyes before Harry walked back to Grimmauld Place.
Nothing could prepare Harry for what he could find when he returned, except perhaps liquor, which is exactly what he had consumed, and exactly why he wasn't completely aghast, a phrase which here means 'totally freaked out'. He did not act as though it was out of the ordinary to find the street full of people lying on their sides groaning in pain, some of them screaming, Bellatrix standing in the midst of it all. "Bellatrix?" he asked, peering through the air as if it was foggy outside. "What did you...what's...what's going on?"
Bellatrix turned around, an uncharacteristicly warm smile playing across her feaures. "Harry! It's good to see you!" she squealed, running to him and giving him a crushing hug. Even in his current state, he had enough sense to pull himself away.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah, that's right," she realized. Her strong-jawed visage and black waves of hair were replaced by the kind features and shocking pink hairstyle of Nymphadora Tonks. "I'm in disguise. Rodolphus Lestrange was here, and the Ministry thought I might get answers out of him this way. He was the only Death Eater here, but it might have been part of a larger operation." With an expression of painful concentration, Tonks rearranged her appearence to resemble Bellatrix once more.
"Did you find out anything?" Harry asked. Tonks shook her head, pointing toward the ground.
"He was the only one who died," she said. Looking where she had indicated, he realized he was standing mere inches away from the unmoving corpse of a man marked as a Death Eater. "Well, I'd love to chat, but I need to interview the witnesses, although the ones I've talked to are all half mad..."
Harry nodded, making his Unplottable house visible and stepping inside, hand grasped around his wand--seeing as Bellatrix's husband was dead on the street, there was no telling what she might do. When he entered, however, he found her in a secluded room, building a house of cards out of boredom. Her hands were trembling so much that he was surprised she'd built it as high as it was; it almost reached to the cieling and she was standing on two chairs. "They'll be dragging his body away for evidence soon," she uttered, stepping off the chairs and onto the floor. Harry tried to look compassionate about her loss, even though he was anything but. "Where did you go?" she asked as shakily as she'd stacked the cards.
"Groceries," Harry lied. "That's unfortunate," he forced himself to say. "Really terrible. I'm sure he meant...well...you must be..." he continued, trying to find words. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...would you like a soda?" he asked, handing her the can. She took it gratefully, reading the conveniently farce label and smiling.
"Cherry surprise. I love cherry." She popped open the can and took a sip. "That's really thoughtful of you, considering--well..."
"What was Rodolphus doing here?" Harry asked bluntly.
"He suspected me and found me here, so I had to kill him before he told Voldemort." Bellatrix took another sip, taking small steps to the toward the tapestry of the Black family tree. It was clear she didn't want to talk about it, and she was being as cryptic as she could, but she had no choice but to answer.
"Suspected you of what? And why would he tell Voldemort? You're both Death Eaters, aren't you?"
"That's how it started," she droned, "But after a while, I began to doubt Voldemort's abilities. He's only trying to kill you and live forever. A big waste if you ask me, as I'd find world conquest or at least small-scale conquest a much more suitable mission, and as long as he's alive, which could be pretty long, he'll hinder my progress." Perhaps the potion was beginning to take effect, as this result was a lot more informative than the last.
"So you deserted?" To Harry's latest question, Bellatrix only nodded. "And the people on the street?"
"Tortured them into madness," Bellatrix answered, scrutinizing the Tree as she spoke.
The expression 'making a mountain out of a molehill' refers to someone making a big deal out of something that ought not to be fretted about, but in current context, the expression 'making a molehill out of a mountain' might be more suitable. Torturing a street full of Muggles is definately something worth making a fuss about, but Bellatrix spoke of it as if it was an innocent prank. "They'll be fine after half a year in St. Mungo's," she continued.
"Are you sorry that Sirius died?" he asked, having more fun with Fred and George's product than he'd intended.
"No. And yes."
"What is this nonsensical double-talk?" he asked, a confused scowl forming on his face.
"You wouldn't understand," Bellatrix choked out, on the brink of tears. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the potion? He decided to continue his irrelevant questioning.
"So, now what are you going to do?" Harry asked. It didn't seem useful, but curiosity was getting the better of him.
"Good question," Bellatrix said. "I wanted to just wait until you destroyed Voldemort, but it's rather obvious, and Severus agrees, that you're never going to make it." Harry looked up, taking offense, but Bellatrix continued. "Now I guess I'll need an alternate solution, because as long as he's alive, I'll never be able to accomplish anything of my own. The other Death Eaters and I have an inside joke about me being a readymade minion and that I could never expect to survive on my own because I wasn't trained to detect Veritaserum and that sort of thing, because Voldemort might need to use it on us..."
She had begun to absent-mindedly finger the spot on the family tree where Sirius had been blasted off, but Harry wasn't paying attention to her actions. He'd tuned her out after the latest blow to his pride, and he had heard enough insults. Whispering slowly and separating each word with a small pause, he leaned over her shoulder and mockingly told her, "There's Veritaserum in your soda."
At first, he was under the impression that she was about to kiss him, which was a foolish notion, really. As she leaned closer, her expression softened and she reached toward him, and it came as a shock to him when she grasped his throat, crushing his windpipe as she throttled him back and forth for a few maniacal-laughter-filled seconds before letting go. He stumbled out the doorway, flexing his neck and making a vow to himself not to fall victim to her tight and painful grasp again. As he walked down the narrow corridor, he heard Bellatrix call, "I'm sorry for insulting Sirius yesterday." This was perhaps the most implausible occurance of the day. Surely it was some sort of ploy to catch him off guard? But how could she have possibly lied?