Chapter 6: The princess and the toad
Disclaimer: First chapter
Thanks to all those who have reviewed up till now!
Neither Harry not Bellatrix spoke when they met in front of the Great Hall that morning. Bella quickly cast a curious glance at Harry while he was looking away, making note of his rumpled cloak and drawn face. It was in severe contrast with his usually pristine appearance, which worried her more than she let on. She even felt a twinge of guilt but quickly crushed it, a deep frown drawing itself across her brow.
He had been the one to slap her in the face, he should be apologizing! Nobody slapped a Black and get away with it unharmed.
They swept into the hall with their usual composure, their steps long and confident, betraying none of their inner turmoil. A few students threw them envious or jealous looks as they passed by, breaking into whispers once they had passed. By then, rumous were travelling through school about them, each one with a different story behind it.
Some believed they were the scions of an ancient pureblood family who hunted Dark wizards to avenge their parents, while others thought they were retired bounty hunters. Still more believed they were both, and even brother and sister. Of course, in pureblood society incest wasn't taboo at all.
The teachers who had come to know them a bit better realized they were acting quite differently to the other days. While they usually held their heads close together and whispered to each other, today they stood straight in their chairs and didn't spare a glance to the left or the right, eating mechanically. A far cry from what most people had come to expect.
Dumbledore looked at them with a merry twinkle in his eyes. Already a plan was forming in his head as he tried to think of different ways to reseolve their dispute. By helping them with their own relationship, he would be able to break the ice and perhaps begin to sow the seeds of friendship between all three of them.
Nodding in satisfaction he turned back to his lemon drop flavored tea with a small smile on his face, he had a lot of experience with fighting couples. He was after all the headmaster of a school full of hormonal teenagers!
Harry sat, fuming. He had spent all night stomping around the top of the Astronomy tower, letting out his frustration of the unfortunate owls and bats that came to close. He had even considered attacking the couple of seventh years having at it in a shadowy corner but stopped himself at the last moment. He didn't need any bodies sprouting up unwanted.
He was waiting impatiently for the meal to end so he could return to his office and spend some more time alone, finalizing his plans for the evening. Of course, he would have to ask Bella to accompany him. A scowl crossed his face and he stabbed a potatoe viciously. Where had her sudden suspicion come from? Hadn't he proven tenfold how much he hated Dumbledore? The nerve of her, even insinuating he would betray them. He had lived in the darkness for decades, much longer than she had. A few years under Dumbledores control did not change anything.
Finally Dumbledore got up and the other teachers followed. He quickly rose and stalked through the Hall towards the doors, intent on getting to his office before he could be accosted. He ignored all the stares he was attracting from the tables quickly made his way through the halls, leaving the rumour mill far behind, to weave some new story about his and Bella's fight.
Finally he was in front of his office. He let out a deep sigh of relief and stepped in, walking over to the sofa and sinking into the comfortable and soft leather. He briefly thought back to Azkaban and couldn't hold back a bark of laughter. If he had known where accepting Azor's offer would get him, he would have begged him to do it the moment he walked into the cell.
Well, perhaps not. His current situation did have a distinct lack of Bellatrix after all. That brought a frown back to his face as he lay down on the couch. After a bit of thought he decided he would let her make the first steps in mending their broken relationship, she was the one at fault, wasn't she?
He pulled out a book from a nearby bookshelf and began to read distractedly, shortly after noticing with amusement that it was a tome on Women and their Mood Magic.
Coincidences.
Bellatrix was almost running down the hallways, the heels of her boots clacking noisily against the solid stone floors. She was frowning deeply, thinking about the file she had read last night. Dumbledore...Fudge...Umbridge. Killing them would certainly be entertaining. She almost felt giddy with excitement at the thought of holding either of the three under her cruciatus, or even better, delving into her expansive knowledge of torture to get a little creative on them. But would Harry even invite her to the party now?
Wish a flick of her wand she blew a tapestry out of her way, ignoring the cries of outrage of nearby paintings. So absorbed was she in her contemplations, that she did not notice the three people in front of her until she almost walked into them.
Cursing herself for her lack of attention she took a few steps back and glared at them. They quickly backed away from her, looking apologetic.
"Sorry Professor, we..We just wanted to talk." Said Hermione, jamming her elbows into Ron and Neville's ribs. They quickly nodded as well, looking a little intimidated and awkward around the powerful, pretty Professor.
Restraining a sigh, Bellatrix nodded and tried to keep her sneer from appearing to hateful. Filthy mudblood and blood traitors, why wasn't Harry like her when it came to ideals. Together they could have been great, but he just didn't care about that. Huffing in irritation, she gave them a clipped nod and tilted her head towards a nearby door. It was dusty and fragile with age, but held when she pushed it open.
A swish of her wand and the room was clean, devoid of dust and debris. The three students followed behind her and stood near the door hesitantly, shuffling their feet and swaying from side to side. They looked like nervous pigeons in the presence of an eagle.
"Well? Spit it out."
Hermione flinched at the sharp tone but nodded quickly. Garnering support from the presence of her friends she turned towards Bellatrix.
"Well Professor...We were just wondering why you disliked us really…"
Whatever Bellatrix was expecting, it hadn't been that. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, her eyes widening as she tried to find a plausible answer. After a few seconds hesitation she smoothed out her features and smiled blandly.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"If you don't like us, why were are you so unfair towards us and not the Slytherins?"
Bellatrix couldn't help it, she burst into a spine chilling laughter that almost made Hermione whimper. It sounded so familiar…
Quickly recovering, the teacher looked at them haughtily. "I am exactly that, fair. Now, if you students don't have any more frivolous worries…"
With that, she stalked out of the room, leaving the three in stricken silence. After a few moments Ron and Neville looked at each other and nodded, walking out of the room quickly. Hermione stayed behind, rubbing a hand on the words carved into her arm with a shiver.
She knew that laugh, she was certain of it.
Darkness had wrapped it's cold cloak around Hogwarts by the time Bellatrix returned to her quarters, exhausted and frustrated by another fruitless day spent cramming incapable students heads full of knowledge. She tossed her cloak to the side and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey from the mantlepiece on her way to the couch, where she sat down with a moan of contentment.
She had forgotten how unskilled most of the students were here, the day had served as a harsh reminder. Pouring herself a glass of the liquid relief she leaned back into the welcoming warmth of the couch and closed her eyes. Peace, at last.
That illusion was torn apart moments later when Harry blew into the room, his eyes gleaming with excitement. When they landed on her, they hardened considerably and he settled down quickly. Perhaps they were fighting, but he was unwilling to risk having a mission go awry over that.
When she didn't budge and kept her eyes firmly shut, he lost patience and prodded her foot with his own. She opened her eyes to see him towering above her, arms crossed and glare on his face. "Well, do you want to come deal with Umbridge or not?"
It took her three seconds flat to down her glass of alcohol, summon her cloak and slip it back on. She stood up and put her hand out imperiously, a manicured eyebrow cocked. "You may take me there."
He rolled his eyes and bit back a snarky comment, grabbing her delicate hand in his own gloved on. The blackest of flames erupted around them and when they faded away, they were gone. They now stood hundreds of miles away from the welcoming warmth of Hogwarts, in front of a plain but large manor.
Harry groaned in pain and covered his brow, reeling for a minute as he tried to soothe his headache. It felt as if a thousand iron rods were being force into his cranium at the same time. Apparating through wards was exceedingly unpleasant.
They spent a few minutes silently contemplating the building and it's surrounding, individually creating contingency plans in case of any unexpected occurrence. Then, they both stepped forward in perfect synchronization. Each glared at the other and kept going, treading carefully on the frost kissed grass as it crunched under their boots.
The closer they got to the home, the more their bloodlust rose. Here they stood, at the gates of on of their most hated enemies domain, undetected and ready for battle. They would spill not a trickle, not a stream but a river of blood that night.
They sidled up to the wardlines and halted. Harry inclined his head in deference to Bellatrix who nodded sharply and drew her wand. Pointing it at the invisible line in front of them, a few golden strands shot from it and latched onto the wards like leeches. It took her ten minutes to navigate herself through the web of alarms and protections, deactivating them all without detection. Harry was impressed, he could blast through wards in seconds but was unable to sneak past them like her. Years spent slipping into Ministry officials houses must have payed off, he thought with a smirk.
Once the wards fell, she smiled evilly at her companion and walked up to the front door, her hips swaying alluringly. He followed close behind, eyeing her appreciatively for a moment before remembering he was angry with her and looking away. He was angry with her, right?
Turning towards Harry she jabbed a thumb at the door lazily. "Enter with a bang, or nab her out of bed?"
Harry shook his head with a revolted expression and made a gagging sound, leaning on the wall for a few seconds. When he looked back up at her she was glaring daggers at him and tapping her foot impatiently. He gave her a wounded look.
"Do I look like the type of guy who likes seeing Umbridge in a nightie?"
"Touché."
She lifted her wand and turned the door into a mass of toothpicks with an overpowered blasting curse. The whole house shook with the power and they heard a scream from upstairs. Laughing uproariously Harry strode into the entry hall, making his way across the uneven and cracked Marble floor.
They both halted when the pattering of feet echoed through the house from the upper level. Slipping up dark hoods they waited patiently in the middle of the hallway for their prey to arrive. They did not have to wait long and soon she came rushing around the bend, wand in hand, face livid.
"Do you know who I am?" She screamed, her pasty face mottled with red.
"If we didn't, we wouldn't be here, would we...Professor."
All color left her face as her wand clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers. Her whole body began trembling. "Potter…" She whispered.
"Correct…" he hissed, lifting the hood off his head and spearing her with his intense and hateful gaze.
"You'll never get away with this. The ministry will know everything." She said in a weak voice, fighting to keep a hold of the last strands of courage in her body.
"Do you really think we'd leave you alive deary?" Cooed Bellatrix softly, easing her cloak off. Umbridge flinched at the malicious grin on her face and stepped back, trembling uncontrollably now. Having Harry Potter here was bad enough, but she knew very well what the queen of pain was capable of, she had even seen some of her victims.
"That's right, step in right in the middle of my speech why don't you." Snapped Harry. "That's one of the reasons that I'm angry with you."
"You, angry with ME? You slapped me! You should be apologizing!"
"You started it, if you hadn't said what you said.."
"Morgana, I can't believe we're having this conversation now." She said sourly, brushing past him and advancing on Umbridge, who backed away with a squeak. Bellatrix eyed her like a child would a toy. A finger ran up and down her wand as she thought of all the pain she could inflict on the pudgy lady in front of her.
Unbeknownst to most she had spent quite a while studying some ancient books on muggle methods of torture. It had been a low ranked death eater that had given her the idea when she overheard him chatting with a friend about that. Naturally, she had been disgusted by even the thought of inspiring herself from mudbloods. However, as time went by she slowly began to mellow to the idea and in the end snapped. She bought a few books about it in the shadier corners of diagon alley and was pleasantly surprised when she realized most of their methods of torture originated from some magical idea. After that, she had no qualms in using her new knowledge as much as possible.
But for now, she would stick to the classics. Lifting her wand, she focused all her frustration and anger into one word. "Crucio." A brilliant red bolt of light shot towards the cowering victim and hit her right in the chest. She fell to the floor in a writhing heap, screaming so loud it was a miracle her voice didn't break then and there.
Bellatrix held the spell for a half a minute before releasing her, panting in excitement. In that moment she resembled her old master more than ever before and Azor loved it. He loved it when she showed her true side, her chaotic and free side. The one you would only see if you were lucky enough to survive a fight with her. In his mind, nothing was more beautiful. Not the prim and regal masks nobility wore or the simple love a woman had for her husband. No, true beauty was in chaos and destruction. Two concepts that Bellatrix Black had adopted and moulded herself to for years.
She repeated the process, then switched to more creative pain giving spells. She continued to torture Umbridge for a half an hour, with the occasional interference from Harry until their target was a bloody mass on her floor and resembled nothing more than a lump of raw, freshly cut meat. Blood pooled around her and stained the once pristine rug in an ugly brown color. Umbridge had long ago lost control of her bowels and that but added to the vile stink and mess surrounding her.
Harry knelt down and patted Dolores on her bloody shoulder, eliciting a whimper from her. He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear and whispered.
"Don't worry dear, the pain has just begun."
"..lease.." She rasped.
He touched her forehead with one finger and focused, pulling at her soul with his magic and ripping it painfully from her body. She shuddered once and slumped to the ground, lifeless. Carefully he guided her spirit into a small recess in his mind he had made specifically for this. A small area from which there was no escape and where he would be able to play with her at will until he released her into the welcoming arms of death.
Standing up he sighed in pleasure and rubbed his face slowly, pushing back the small twinges of guilt to the very back of his mind. She had deserved what she got, and he couldn't have Bellatrix thinking he was even weaker than she obviously thought he was.
He spun around and left the room in a hurry, unwilling to linger in the home of his enemy any longer than was necessary. They both quickly made their way down the stairs and to the door, where Bellatrix quickly undid her wards and stepped out.
However, the moment she put a foot out of the door, a spark of magic appeared in front of her akin a lightning bug, and they both felt a huge rush of magic focus on that point.
With a shout of warning Harry threw up his shields, that was a magical fluke, a Ward overload. Black shields appeared around himself and it took him a moment to remember the stunned woman next to him, left unshielded. One moment to long.
As he lifted his hand to conjure shields for her, a huge blast shook the building and with a rush of power the wards collapsed, connecting and exploding, sending an eruption of fire out around them and inside of them. Like lava from the Vesuvius, the flames rolled over each other, licking at every surface hungrily.
The partially risen shields Harry set up for Bella shattered and she was blown backwards into a wall with a sickening crunch. Screaming in anger Harry leapt forward and grabbed her, blasting past the wards and spirit walking back to their room.
He landed in a heap on the floor but ignored the pain that flared up his ankle. Picking up Bella carefully he dropped her on the bed and stepped back, looking at her with wide eyes. Her body was covered in hideous burns and most of her dress had been incinerated by the blast.
His eyes roved over her, and his panic rose at the sight of every fresh wound and burn. How could he heal her?
Thankfully, she was unconscious , for he could not even begin to fathom the pain she would be in had that not been the fact. He stood in front of her awkwardly, twisting his cloak between his hands as he tried to decide how to proceed to save his compatriot.
He was on the edge of hysterics when he felt a cool presence at the back of his mind and relaxed. Azor. His cold, calculating side took over and he knelt by Bellatrix's side. His eyes flared as he switched to spirit sight to see her soul, that was currently right under her skin, ready to leave its demolished fleshy host.
Harry would not allow it. Clenching his fist, he willed the soul back to Bella's inner core and held it there, giving it no choice but to keep the body alive until he could heal it. He spent the next ten minutes going over every healing spell and ritual he knew, growing ever more desperate. He was about to give up when an old half faded memory popped into his head.
He hesitated but for a moment. He knew it would be exceedingly painful for him, but he couldn't allow one of the few people who had ever shown him affection and accepted him as he was to die.
Drawing a silver rune scribing knife from his side he cut a few marks into the palm of his hand and let the blood flow onto the blade. It began to glow after a few moments and he nodded in satisfaction, completely focused on his work now. Once the blade was covered in red light, he lifted it up and began to carve shallow runes on Bella's forehead and arms, wincing as the burnt and blistered skin cracked under the cold edge of his knife.
Fifteen minutes later, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead in rivers as he concentrated on an extremely complex ward he was carving into her stomach. Finally, he finished and got up. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and lifted his hands up, he was ready for the pain. It would save Bella. How foolish was he, to have thrown her friendship -his only one!- away over a petty fight!
He tensed, and blasted his magic into her wards.
2592.7 Kilometers away
Marco Besalchi was no runner and he had never been. Born to a rich shop owner fifty years ago he had enjoyed the comforts of everyday routine for a long time. That was, until they came. Then it all changed and he still wasn't sure if it was for the better or not. He banished those thoughts quickly, dissention, even of the mind, was punished harshly.
Clutching the notes he held in his hand tighter, he burst through a door into an antechamber and came to a halt, panting in exhaustion. Red faced, he turned towards the aristocratic looking secretary and waved his papers.
"I-Important message for the lord!"
With a sharp nod she jabbed a finger at the door. Her voice was cold and clipped. Sometimes Marco wondered if she even felt emotion.
"You may proceed."
Marco walked into the next room at a much slower pace. He straightened his tie and took a few calming breaths as he approached the huge desk. A man sat behind it, shrouded in shadows his face all but hidden by the all-encompassing darkness.
"What?" The voice was colder than the secretaries, and much more evil. Holding back a shiver Marco held out the papers.
"My Lord, the Necromancer from 1945, he escaped the Englishmen's grasp. He's free again."
Silence.
It went on for so long that Marco had actually begun to tremble in fear, wondering what punishment he would get for being the messenger.
Finally, the man spoke up. "I knew we should have executed him when we had the chance. But it is too late for that now. He is far too powerful to subdue again, now that he knows the tricks. The King of Bones will not go down quietly."
Another pause.
"Get me Van Helsing."
AN: Double cliffie! (grin)
I try to add a more developed vocabulary and use some interesting metaphors, but English isn't my first language and I've gone to school in french, so tell me if I'm doing all right! :)
I had to rewrite half of this chapter twice, so I'm not really sure of it's quality, but I hope y'all enjoy it.
As always, please review!