III.
Since earliest childhood, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, had been a woman of conviction.
Where her erstwhile sister Andromeda had shamed the Black family and married a Mudblood, Bellatrix had done her duty and married a suitable Pureblood man. Where Narcissa hemmed and hawed about throwing in with the Dark Lord, claiming that caution was needed, Bellatrix willingly gave herself over to the side of the man (no, more than just a man) who would change the world for the better. Where her husband was unenthusiastic in the Dark Lord's service, and her parents eventually retired to their home in the countryside and refused to have anything more to do with him, Bellatrix's loyalty never wavered.
But then, the Dark Lord vanished. He was vanquished (no, not dead, certainly not dead, dead at the hands of a half-blood baby? Laughable!), and had fled, and none of Bellatrix's fellow Death Eaters, nor any of their subordinates, had any idea of where he might be. The moment the Dark Mark had nearly vanished from her arm, Bellatrix had felt an icy wave of terror and grief wash over her. They were scattered and leaderless, unsure of whom to trust—very few among the Dark Lord's followers had been given his Mark, and unless there was one among the Death Eaters who could vouch for them, it was nearly impossible to know whether an un-Marked witch or wizard was really one of the Dark Lord's.
So as much as she did not like it, as much as she would have far rather gone looking for her master, tried to help him and restore him to power, Bellatrix Lestrange returned to her everyday, stifling life. Returned to a life where she had nothing to do but laze around the house all day, and not go out if she could help it; whenever she went out, Bellatrix was just reminded that the Dark Lord was gone and the world was still one dominated by the unworthy and the unclean.
Where could he possibly have gone? she would wonder, running her hand over her left forearm where the faded Mark sat, red and forlorn. What could the Potter boy have done to him?
No, no that can not be it. No half-blood baby could ever be even remotely in the same league as the Dark Lord. The boy's father must have set up some sort of protective ward before he was killed. That's the only explanation that makes sense; the Mudblood girl couldn't possibly have done it.
So where is he? Why won't he contact me?
It seemed to Bellatrix that her master would never return, and that his noble work would never be finished, and that all she would ever be able to do would be look at the world and dream of how it could have been, had the Dark Lord not met with disaster the previous Halloween.
But then, she got a lead.
Bellatrix got her lead from a source she'd expected least of all, her much-despised, sycophantic brother-in-law, Lucius Malfoy (Really, she didn't fault Narcissa for having the common sense to marry a wealthy man, nor for not shaming the family by marrying anyone but a pureblood, but couldn't she have picked someone a bit less slimy?). As you might imagine, Bellatrix held Lucius in the deepest contempt imaginable. He was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, one of the leaders of his followers (an honor always denied to Bellatrix, much to her frustration—was she not loyal enough?), and when he had been caught, and arrested, he had claimed that he was operating under the influence of the Imperius Curse.
Disgusting! If Bellatrix had been found to be one of the Dark Lord's followers, she would not have fallen on her knees like a common Mudblood and begged forgiveness. If Bellatrix had been found to be one of the Dark Lord's followers, she never would have claimed to have done so under coercion. She would have been proud to admit her devotion to the Dark Lord, proud to go to Azkaban if that was what it meant to be devoted to the Dark Lord in an unclean world. Lucius Malfoy had shown himself for what he really was—a craven and a gutless coward.
All the same, though, Bellatrix would be lying if she said she didn't know how well-connected Lucius was, even when he was doing his very best not to draw attention to himself. And this was something he had heard himself, apparently.
The Longbottoms knew something. He'd heard Frank Longbottom let slip that he had some idea of where the Dark Lord had fled to when Lucius was arrested. The Longbottoms knew where the Dark Lord was.
As much as Bellatrix did not like or trust Lucius, it was her duty to act on any lead regarding the Dark Lord's whereabouts; what sort of Death Eater would she be, if she did not? And it sounded plausible, she had to admit that it did. The Longbottoms had been deep in Dumbledore's confidence during the War, and they wereAurors as well. And Bellatrix and Frank had been in the same year in school, Alice just a year above them. From what Bellatrix remembered of her old classmate, it would be just like him not to be able to keep his flapping mouth shut when he ought to. Alice was barely any more discreet than him. It was entirely plausible.
And Bellatrix could not remain cautious when running the risk that if she did not pursue this lead, she would lose her only chance of finding her master.
So Bellatrix made plans.
When Karkaroff turned traitor, what remained of his network fell to Bellatrix; neither her husband nor her brother-in-law possessed the will necessary to take control of it. The remnants of Karkaroff's old following, largely composed of foreign wizards who had fled back to their own lands, was in no way as large as Lucius's mostly intact following, but it was not inconsiderable. She sent out five of the finest, enlisting them to discover where the Longbottoms lived, and how easy it would be to get a hold of them if need be.
In the Muggle world, there was a directory known as a phone book that could tell you the addresses of most of the Muggles in the United Kingdom. However, this was not the Muggle world, and even if Bellatrix knew what a phone book was, she would likely not condescend to touch it. In Wizarding Britain, the only way you ever discovered anyone's address was either to receive a letter from them, to have them tell you directly, or to have a third party tell you. Two Aurors deep in the confidence of Albus Dumbledore did not just go out giving their address to anyone they met on the street. They moved somewhere quiet and unexpected, yet close enough to neighbors that they could enlist their aid if need be. The Longbottoms were talented Aurors; they probably possessed enough skill between them to cast the Fidelius Charm upon their house, and if that was the case, then it would be a matter of tracking down the Secret-Keeper and getting him or her to break the Charm.
It took three months—the Longbottoms seemed to have at least learned something about lying low. Then, one sultry night in June, one of the wizards she'd sent out came back to her saying that he had information on the Longbottoms.
Bellatrix's mouth curled up in a mirthless, ghastly grin (the wizard flinched and counted himself very fortunate once he was allowed to leave) when she was told the news. The Longbottom's were living in a mixed Muggle-Wizard community in Somerset. They hadn't even put a Fidelius Charm on their house. And their home was not far from a location the Dark Lord's followers had traditionally used as a meeting place.
Now, to catch them.
Her mind immediately sprang to recruiting her husband and brother-in-law for the capture of the Longbottoms. For all that Rodolphus and Rabastan had never been as devoted to the Dark Lord as they ought to have been (at least not in her estimation; in the eyes of others, they were considered quite thoroughly loyal, but Bellatrix held Death Eaters to a much higher standard than her peers did), they would listen to her and do what she told them to. It would benefit them all if they could uncover the whereabouts of the Dark Lord and they both knew that.
Rodolphus, she decided, would be the one to apprehend Frank (and later Alice, if need be) and bring him to the meeting place; he was strongly built and could overpower another grown man easily. Rabastan would stand as look-out. Bellatrix would, ah, take point in the interrogation. But, but, for safety, there would be need for one more look-out. And Bellatrix knew of only one who would fit.
"Stop right there, Crouch."
The boy, really only eighteen or nineteen, stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of a familiar voice coming out of the dark street, and turned round to find Bellatrix's wand trained on his heart. Sandy-haired, pale and thin, young Barty Crouch took one look at her, took one look at her wand, and quailed. Bellatrix sneered.
Barty… She didn't know what Barty had done to avoid arrest, wasn't sure if he'd needed to do anything at all, but Bellatrix, from what she knew of him, was sure that Barty, like Karkaroff and Lucius, was the sort to renounce the Dark Lord in order to save his own hide. He had been one of Rookwood's, and had not even been in the Dark Lord's service for a year when he fell, but all the same he had been given the Dark Mark, for one reason, and one only: he was a security risk. He was the son of the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ideally positioned to be a spy, and he had been given the Dark Mark only to minimize any chances of him betraying them.
"I have a little job for you, Crouch. Consider it an act of service in the name of the Dark Lord." Bellatrix ran her fingers over her wand tensely. The Dark Lord had tutored her well in the Dark Arts, and she fully intended to utilize them to the best of her abilities in forcing these Aurors to tell her where he was, but if she had to warm up with Barty first, then so be it.
Face half-veiled by shadows, Barty stared at her with narrow eyes for a long moment, suddenly looking significantly less younger and vulnerable than he had when Bellatrix caught him off-guard. His eyes grew hard as glass, and he nodded resolutely. "Of course."