Chapter 9—Reunion
"And so, you have to pick up the Chinese Chomping Cabbage like this, or it'll take your arm off," Neville Longbottom explained, gesturing animatedly at the diagrams laid out in front of us. I had sought help from him in the hopes of improving my Herbology grades. It was not working. Not that Longbottom was a bad teacher—in fact, he was wonderful, completely transformed by his love for the subject. His enthusiasm and patience were extremely heartening. But I still didn't get it.
"Mmm, thanks, that was really helpful, I'll bear it in mind. I just wanted to know why mine keep dying."
"Dying?" Neville looked extremely saddened by the fact that so many plants were dying in my incompetent hands. "Well, I honestly don't know, Gemma. Maybe you're using too much water, or too little. These plants are pretty finicky about their water intake. Also, it's a shade-loving plant, so keep it out of the sun. And try to devise a regular fertilising schedule—three handfuls of dragon dung per week. It'd probably be helpful to keep a logbook documenting their growth. Be sure to measure their height, width at the widest point, number and size of leaves, you know, all that stuff. "
My jaw dropped. How on earth was I supposed to remember and apply all that? I was a gone case. Father was going to skewer me. As though in response to that thought, his voice rang out in my head. "Belladonna. Get to a secluded place, now. I have important news." I jumped, alarmed.
"Um, I've kind of got to go to the loo…I'll be back in five minutes. Thanks for all your help!" Leaping up, I shot out of the common room without any further ado and made a beeline for the nearest toilet. Once I was safely ensconced in a cubicle, Father spoke again. "Listen carefully. I have managed to break your mother and nine other Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Tonight, you will come to Malfoy Manor and see your mother. And tomorrow, when the news hits as it surely will, act suitably shocked and horrified." Silence followed this stunning pronouncement.
My knees went weak. I grabbed at the doorknob wildly, trying to steady myself. Mother. Back after all these years… but how was it possible? How had she gotten out of Azkaban?
It was midnight. The stars glittered in the ebony sky as I raced across Lucius Malfoy's expansive front lawn, ignoring the exotic plants and albino peacocks. Pulling up sharply at the elegant front door, I paused for a second to catch my breath. And then I knocked.
The door flew open and Lucius came scurrying out, head bowed. "Your mother is in the guest room down the hall, but there is a problem with Lady Bellatrix," he said in a low voice. "She—"
"Oh, be quiet," I snapped, impatience and anxiety trumping the need to be courteous. "She just came back from Azkaban, of course she's a little traumatised!" I pushed past him rudely and was off down the corridor in an instant.
Within seconds, the imposing entrance to the room that held my mother loomed large in front of me. I took a deep breath, calming myself as much as possible. Then I reached out, took hold of the door handle, and pushed it open, waiting for the joyful reunion between mother and daughter to happen.
It was pitch dark in the room. Extracting my wand from my pocket, I murmured, "Lumos Maxima." A brilliant white light burst forth, illuminating the figure sitting in the corner of the room.
No. My wand slipped soundlessly out of my slackened grasp as my stomach churned with shock, horror and despair. Tears stung my eyes, threatening to spill forth at any moment. This was not my mother. It couldn't be. Father had always spoken of a dazzlingly beautiful lady of sharp wit and charisma, a witch prodigiously skilled in the Dark Arts. His best lieutenant, the mother of his child. She was the only one whom he had spoken about with the faintest hint of affection.
But this woman was nothing like that. Her long hair was greasy and hung limply down to her knees. She was covered with smudges of dirt and dry blood and was painfully thin. Her eyes were huge eerie hollows. Worst of all, though, was the way she was acting. She swayed slightly from side to side, muttering to herself. Her overlarge eyes were unfocused. Almost instinctively, I knew that Father had given up on her. He only had time for the strong. She had been his most loyal follower, but he had thrown her aside like a broken toy, leaving her to rot and wallow in her madness.
My throat was as dry as sandpaper as I watched her play aimlessly with the candles on the table in front of her. Father did not want her anymore, but I still did. I couldn't just let my mother, my only role model waste away like that.
"Mother," I began, approaching her cautiously, "it's your daughter Belladonna. Father calls me Bella, just like what he used to call you."
Her eyes lit up but quickly went dark again. "Bella…Bella…I don't know…" My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. This was far worse than I had expected. That was when I remembered the silver dagger that I always carried during meetings with Father and other Death Eaters to make myself feel braver than I really was. Could I use it to jog my mother's memory?
Kneeling in front of her, I slid the dagger from the pocket of my robes and held it out to Mother. "Look, Mother. Isn't this beautiful? Father said it was once yours, and he gave it to me so I would have something to remember you by. He always tells me stories about how brave and talented you were in combat."
To my surprise, recognition flashed across her face for a second. Seizing the moment, I continued, "It says Tojours Pur on here. "Always pure" in French—though I'm sure you know that, of course. You gave so much, sacrificed everything for blood purity in the last war. And now, Father will ensure that your efforts were not in vain. He has risen again, and this time he will kill all the Mudbloods and bloodtraitors. The Muggles will be our slaves. Wouldn't it be grand, Mother, all those pathetic creatures serving you, cowering at your feet, calling you Queen Bellatrix?"
To my surprise, she leant forward and delicately plucked the dagger from my hands, running her fingers over the inscription on its handle almost lovingly. "Yess… kill all the Mudbloods, foul creatures, they have no place to live…"
My face lit up in joy! She remembered! If only I could find a way to unlock other parts of her memory…
Then, everything went wrong. Rage suddenly engulfed her features and she lunged forward, brandishing the dagger, screaming hoarsely, "Die, Mudblood, die!" I shrieked in pure terror and made a desperate bolt for the exit, wrenching it open and diving out of the room. Seeing that I had gotten away, she let out a howl of primal fury and hurled the dagger at me. I slammed the door shut at the last moment, and it was left protruding from between the door and the doorframe, quivering ominously. Muffled thumping sounds emanated from near the door. Oh no. She was trying to get out!
Frozen with fear, I stood rooted to the spot, shaking. Just when I thought I was a goner, a cold voice called, "Collorportus" and the door sealed itself with a squelch. I turned to see Father striding down the hall, clad as usual in black. "Father!" I cried, throwing myself at his feet. "Please, you have to save her, she's gone mad, she tried to kill me—"
He cut me off with a wave of a papery white hand. "Be quiet, child. Stop making such a scene. You are old enough to understand that she is beyond saving. I have far more important matters to attend to than this."
"Please, Father," I begged, close to tears. "She's my mother, she fought so hard for you, how can you abandon her? Please…"
Entirely impervious to my distress, Father chuckled, a disturbing sound that ricocheted eerily around the spacious hall. "Oh, so you love her, do you? Well, let me tell you, love does not exist for the strong. Love is for weak, sniveling fools." That was when I realised that I had made a terrible mistake.
"No, Father," I replied, fighting to get a hold of my emotions. "I just respect her a lot. How could I not? Please, Father, if you restore her to her former glory, she will be such a powerful force for our side. If you don't have the time, surely Severus Snape would have some potions in his store that could help her…"
"I will consider. Now run along, it's getting late." The finality in Father's voice told me that it would be pointless to disagree. Nodding, I walked out of Malfoy Manor. Once outside, I slid down to the ground, staring blankly up at the sky. Earlier on, the glow of the stars had been so warm, so promising, full of hope. It was almost as though they were telling me that something wonderful was going to happen. How naïve I had been, to believe that Mother was strong enough to come out of Azkaban without a scratch, that I would finally get my mother back. Now, though, I knew better. Now that my rose-tinted glasses were removed, I saw the stars for what they really were: cold, uncaring as they watched the trials and tribulations of humans who were so much unluckier than themselves. And I finally saw my mother for what she really was: not a flawless heroine in a child's fantasy, but just another human.