IV.
It could be tentatively claimed that things would be alright, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (or Voldemort, as Dumbledore now insisted that, since his vanquishing had meant the lifting of the Taboo, everyone call him) was gone. Certainly the oppressive atmosphere of paranoia and dread was finally starting to lift. Alice Longbottom had, just yesterday, even considered going for a walk down the street to the local bookstore without her wand. Almost, but not quite. Moody would never have forgiven her that sort of lapse in vigilance.
And that sort of lapse in vigilance had gotten more than a few people killed during the War; from what Alice understood, when the authorities came to Godric's Hollow (she'd not been among them), both of the Potters had been found without their wands anywhere on their persons, and it did not seem as though they had been disarmed beforehand. When they'd heard of it at work, Moody had even shook his grizzled head and muttered "Well what did they expect to happen?"
Despite the fact that they had been in the Order of the Phoenix together, Alice did not know the Potters very well—and frankly, what little she'd known of James, she'd not liked all that much. The Potters had both been much younger than her, only entering school some years after she had left, and neither of them had worked, so it wasn't like Alice was going to run across them in the course of her own job. That, coupled with her respect for Moody, had led her to bite her tongue and keep from chiding him for saying something so disrespectful about two very young people who had been killed and left behind an orphaned son.
But all told, Alice was liking the state of the world much better now that the war was over and Voldemort was gone. It wasn't what she'd originally joined the Aurors for, to be stuck on Ministry raids of people's basements and routing out the remaining Death Eaters—and Alice was not joking when, a few months back, she'd claimed that she would never participate in the latter venture again; that Lucius Malfoy had a tendency to completely lose his head when he got angry, and took very little time to progress to throwing punches (The fact that he got off on an Imperius defense was a travesty). Alice had joined the Aurors because the winds of war were coming and she'd been ready and willing to fight. She had little respect for those who, once the war had begun, had refused to take sides. It's your world that will end up ruined if we fail, she thought sharply, then and now. How can you just sit on the fence and say that it hasn't got anything to do with you?
Peacetime work was not what Alice had joined the Aurors for. But, she supposed, peace was better than war. At least in peacetime, Alice might be able to live to see her son grow up, might be able to guide him to become a man better than many of the people she had known.
It was late. Alice looked at the clock on the wall and frowned; nine at night, pitch black outside thanks to gathering storm clouds, and Frank still wasn't back. He was going out to take a walk, he'd said to her, not long after they'd put Neville down to bed. These days, Frank's rambling walks often took him far afield, and Alice was used to him not coming home for a good hour at least, but he'd been gone longer than usual.
Maybe he got pulled into that pub by Mister Collins again, Alice thought, lip twitching as she finished up with the last of the clothes-folding. At least Frank finished washing the dishes before he left; he knows I don't like to clean house with magic, and if I tried to wash them they'd all end up on the floor in a million glittering pieces.
Still, I hope he gets home before it starts to rain.
There came a knock at the door.
Alice had been made less wary than before by the end of the war, and the change of scenery (from London to Bath in Somerset) they'd made just before Neville was born had not helped. She had her wand tucked away in her pocket, but she did not think to draw it as she made her way towards the front door. Frank had probably forgotten his key again; attempting to cast an Unlocking Charm on the doorknob wouldn't work either, as the door was charmed to be resistant to such things. The knocking became louder and heavier, and Alice frowned, brow furrowed. "Alright, Frank, I'm coming; don't get your trousers in a twist. A little rain won't…"
She opened the door. And it wasn't Frank on the other side. Eyes wide and back tense, Alice reached for her wand, but a streak of scarlet light rocketed towards her, and she knew no more.
When Alice came to, she opened her eyes and was met with darkness. Where am I? she wondered frantically, struggling to stay conscious and finding even breathing painful from the dull ache in her chest, a leftover of the Stunner she'd been hit with. Where am I? Where is my wand? Alice tried reaching for her wand, but she could not find it. More to the point, she couldn't move her arms, or her legs. As full consciousness took hold of her again, Alice realized that her arms and legs had been bound.
Idiot! she raged. You know better than to answer a door without your wand drawn, if the person on the other side hasn't identified themselves! You don't just assume it's Frank! Oh God, what am I in for now?
She tried to Disapparate and couldn't; Most likely someone's set up wards to keep prisoners from escaping. Alice blew her short blonde curls out of her face, and tried to take stock of where she was. She was lying on a cold, clammy stone floor; her nostrils were flooded with a distinctly musty smell, and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck all stood on end. It was pitch dark all around her, but as Alice lied there, prone and trapped, her eyes started to adjust to the darkness, enough to make out shapes the right size to be chairs and tables in the dark. The silence was deep enough to be an entity all its own.
Then, a door slammed open.
"Lumos." A man with a deep voice performed a Wand-lighting Charm, bathing the room in ghostly yellowish light, while a tall woman stood on tiptoe to shoot flame into a lantern. Two more men, both slimmer than the one with the lit wand ("Nox," the man said, and the light went out, leaving only the lantern light), stood by the door, but their faces were lost to shadow and Alice couldn't make them out. Before long, the more heavy-set man drifted backwards into the darkness as well, and the woman came to stand before Alice. A familiar face, pale-skinned, dark-eyed and sneering, hovered in the shadows and the lantern light.
Well…
Alice gaped up at her, recognition washing over her like a dose of cold water. "Bellatrix? Bellatrix Black?" There stood before her Alice's old schoolmate, never a friend but not an enemy either, grasping her wand in her long-fingered hand, eyes glowing feverishly like hot coals.
Bellatrix's sneer deepened and she shook her head. "No, not Black; Lestrange, now. Tell me, Alice, does one completely lose contact with the rest of the Wizarding world when they become a blood traitor? I had to remind your husband as well."
Frank… So they had Frank as well. A sharp stab of fear twisted in her gut. "Where is Frank?!" Alice stared up into Bellatrix's face, trying to find any hint of the answer there. "Where is my husband?!"
The sneer on Bellatrix's face morphed into a twitching, playful smile. Her eyes sparkled as she put a finger to her lips. "Shh, mustn't tell. He's a bit worn out, you see. Wouldn't answer any of my questions. Wouldn't play nice. Perhaps you'll be better?"
"Where is Frank?! What have you done to him?!"
Bellatrix giggled. "Nothing he didn't deserve." Her giggles broke into a short spate of raucous, mocking laughter, lapsing into ominous silence, broken only by the shuffling of shoes on stone—one of the men at the door shifting his weight nervously. Bellatrix pointed her long wand at Alice, eyes intent and entirely too bright. "And nothing you won't deserve, if you don't answer my questions.
"So tell me, Auror Alice Longbottom. Tell me everything you know about the current whereabouts of the Dark Lord."
Alice's eyes narrowed. She knew quite well what that meant. There was only one reason a witch or wizard would kidnap another and quiz them as to information on the whereabouts of the vanquished Voldemort. "So you're a Death Eater, then." Alice snarled, struggling at the bonds around her wrists. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Because you always knew me to be a woman with eyes I could actually see out of," Bellatrix answered immediately. "Whereas you were blind as anyone could be; always were. But you have a chance now, to prove yourself worthy, and sharp-eyed, and spare yourself unnecessary pain. Tell me, Alice. Where is the Dark Lord?"
Alice couldn't answer that question. She didn't know the answer, had no idea why Bellatrix would think she did, and even if she did know where Voldemort was, she would not tell the woman standing over her now. Alice was no fool. She knew what could very well happen if any of Voldemort's followers were to succor him, especially a powerful witch like Bellatrix Lestrange. But the fact that she didn't know at all did her no favors. If she had known, and had given up the information, Bellatrix might have been content to…
No, that was naïve. No one with any sense was going to let her go, not after this, no matter what Alice did or did not tell them. Once the inevitable "interrogation" was over with, there would only be two options left.
One, was that Alice would be hit with an especially strong Memory Charm, the strongest Bellatrix or one of her cohorts could muster. But Memory Charms could be broken. Alice knew that; she'd been called on to break them herself, more than once. They could be broken, and while the person who had both had their memory modified and then restored would never be quite the same again, they could give testimony, and they could identify their attackers. The second of the two options was far more practical, and far more likely.
Two, she would be killed.
She would be killed. Alice was sure of that. They may have already killed Frank, and were simply lying in the attempt to ensure her cooperation. Frank could be dead, she could be dead soon enough, and their son would end up like the Potter's son, growing up without ever knowing his parents. Another war orphan, except the war was supposed to be over.
But she would not snivel. She would not beg. I will not be afraid, Alice told herself, and tried to ignore her hammering heart. I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of pain. I will not betray my friends and loved ones in body or in mind.
Alice lifted her head, and stared squarely into Bellatrix's shining eyes.
"I don't know."
And so began the pain.