Chapter 12

November 20, 2003

'So, in a couple of days we can finally move onto the island. Everything's been set up.' Hermione declared at breakfast, a meal that had become a bit of a favourite since her cooking lesson.

'I thought wards needed setting up and such...You don't actually do any of the warding, then? I don't know why they've bothered hiring you for anything, Granger, if all you do is sit around staring at my memories whilst others do the magic.' Bellatrix stirred her beans together carelessly.

'Oh, I did the wards already-' Hermione began before catching herself. 'You know, I do get things done here and there when you're not demanding my attention.'

'Right. Here and there, warding the entirety of that island. I'll just continue thinking you're lazy and incompetent and they had to send in someone else, then.' Bellatrix grinned cheerfully as she rested a playful gaze on her warden.

They both let out a chuckle before they began to clear up their breakfast. It had turned out to be a bad idea to enchant the washing machine to stack itself as it had ceased to function and they had had to start doing everything but the cooking by hand to avoid further complications.

Upon entering the study on the tenth day in a row, Hermione caught Bellatrix's expression of unease.

'How are you holding up?' she inquired, instinctively taking in every movement of the pale woman she was assigned to keep safe.

Bellatrix frowned deeply and drew her shoulders back.

'I'm fine, Granger.' she spat. 'I'm not a delicate flower. If I require any help I will, as you have experienced, let you know. Let's get on with it, shall we?'

She rolled her eyes dramatically as she sauntered across the room.

'Alright.' Hermione sighed, herself quite tired. 'Sit down, then.'

She had almost completed the mind-mapping, having collected memories from most corners of Bellatrix's mind. There was the surly teenaged Bellatrix arm-wrestling with Rodolphus and a mid-twenties Bellatrix having tea with Narcissa and Rita Skeeter, chatting about Narcissas' wish to enter into potioneering professionally, for instance, and a more recent Bellatrix arguing with Rodolphus over what to have for supper (Rodolphus had left Azkaban with a delicate stomach, it seemed).
The memories had all been, in short, neutral or negative in feeling and decidedly mundane. This was of course to be expected after such a long stint in Azkaban, but still seemed rather sad, especially as these weren't the prominent features of Bellatrix's memory. Nothing important seemed to be left, however.

'I really want you to focus on something happy today. Like a Patronus-producing level event, you know?'

Bellatrix rolled her eyes again and sat up staring at her guard, eyebrows raised.

'You've been in here. You know I haven't got anything like that.'

'Not even close, though?'

'Not even close.' Bellatrix confirmed.

Stumped for a moment on how to guide Bellatrix through this particular hurdle, Hermione settled on the less than satisfactory 'Well, the best you've got will have to do.' and let the dark woman adjust again.

'Any time, Granger.' the woman warned, and Hermione forged ahead.

The memory she pulled out was taken from a completely new part of Bellatrix's mind, so in that regard it was, in Hermione's opinion, a success. It turned out to be a not particularly happy event however, as Bellatrix was simply howling and sobbing hysterically in it. She looked to be somewhere in her early twenties.

'What are you crying over?' Hermione asked before she even remembered it could be a sensitive question.

'No idea.' Bellatrix responded, and as she did seem genuinely baffled, Hermione let the questioning go, instead opting to insert the memory into her mind. She found only a throbbing feeling of hurt there, however, as Bellatrix's thoughts were too incoherent for any analysis.

Bracing herself for the next round she checked that the Pensieve and vials were ready, took a deep breath, and plunged into Bellatrix's mind with no prompt at all this time, grabbing a fairly neutral memory clearly far away from Bellatrix's consciousness, but not in the same recess of Bellatrix's mind as the earlier memory, her hope being that she could now complete the remainder of her map, being fully aware of where the gaps were.

When the memory began projecting from the Pensieve not even Bellatrix's look of astonishment at what had been unearthed could make Hermione look away. A woman with a long and messy black braid and intricately embroidered black robes was pacing back and forth in front of a fireplace, the flames casting shadows on her blotchy skin and fevered expression. A man with a rather waxy complexion and bloodshot eyes framed by impeccable black hair and sunken cheeks framed by an exquisite bone structure was watching the woman intently.
Hermione knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she was staring at, for the first time, a memory of a much younger Lord Voldemort. It had been inevitable, of course, but Hermione still found herself completely taken aback by this turn of events.
Remembering in a jolt that there was someone else in the room, she pulled her eyes away from the people projecting out of her Pensieve. She needn't have, as Bellatrix seemed entirely as mesmerised by the display as she was. The dark woman leaned forward with her eyes wide as saucers and her jaw slack, staring at her younger master and her younger, more vivacious looking, self.
Hermione returned her attention to the memory as Voldemort, with an unrecognisably human voice, began to speak.

September 1977

'Isn't it a bit crude? Sensory depravation, you call it?'

'My Lord, I realize it might seem a bit... well, Mugglish.' Bellatrix flashed her master a sheepish smile. 'I promise you, it is not. It is effective. Sensory depravation, then sensory overload. A dark, silent room for a week then bright flashing lights while someone shatters your kneecaps, for example. Knocks down any defence.'

'Is your Legilimency not up to scratch, Bellatrix?' He gathered his fingers and looked down on her even though she stood taller than he sat, disdain and humour seeping out of him in equal measure.

'My Lord, I assure you my Legilimency is quite excellent. After all, you taught me to perfect it yourself! These interrogation techniques aren't meant to make up for subpar Legilimency standards among the ranks. One might indeed find Legilimency to be an effective tool for breaking into someone's mind should they prove... reluctant to volunteer information. However, if one encounters a position where... well, someone might be a skilled Occlumens, or have some other form of protection against invasions of their mind and then what?' she eagerly tripped over her words, flushed with excitement. 'One might need to break in, ah... more forcefully. Legilimency is the easy answer, a whisper of Alohomora at the gates. But occasionally one might need to, just as with a house, do some damage to the structure itself in order to get past the defences. Magic could meddle with the mind in such cases, destroying the information. The equivalent of burning down the house if there's a memory charm or a Fidelius at work, so that is out of the question. However, sensory deprivation... Consider this an effective measure for when one needs to remove a wall, my Lord. It isn't always important that one leaves behind something... of structural integrity. So long as the house stands while you search it.' She grinned at her master.

He considered her, astonishment written across his face. The disdain had vanished entirely.

'My darling Bellatrix, I believe you might be correct.'

Bellatrix waved her wand, summoning a tightly bound man from an adjoining room.

'Oh, my Lord, don't trust just my words. Allow me a little demonstration.'

...

Hermione quickly waved her wand over the Pensieve to make the memory stop, leaving only a shattering silence.

Bellatrix stared at the Pensieve. Hermione stared at Bellatrix, the empty canvas of the woman's face reflecting the luminescence of the Pensieve and her pupils soaking in the dimness of the room to form pools of darkness. She seemed cut in marble in that moment, unfeeling and entirely artificial. Hermione felt as if she were looking at Bellatrix from one end of a very long and narrow tunnel.

The feeling of bile rising in Hermiones' throat forced her to act, quickly.

'Don't. Touch. Anything.' she ground out, as she made her way out and into the garden as quickly as she could. It was a bright autumn day and a sharp edge to the wind alerted her that the season was on the wane.

She leaned forward, grabbing both knees, breathing deep. She was trembling, and she felt her temples pounding. A jolt through her mid-section sent that morning's breakfast careening through her throat and onto the emerald lawn. She stood there, leant over the sick on the lawn, heaving.

The voice that cut through the autumn breeze then was entirely unwelcome.

'Get it together, Granger. That's only the beginning.' Bellatrix stated, standing in the doorway and looking rather uneasy.

Hermione didn't trust herself to say the right thing, so instead she clenched her teeth and stood up tall, turning to look her prisoner right in the eye. Bellatrix's expression as she stared back was indeterminable, but she eventually turned back into the house, evidently expecting Hermione to follow. Deciding (with some doubt) against burning the house down with Bellatrix in it, Hermione followed.

The dull luminescence of the memory still floating in the Pensieve mocked her as she entered the study. She quickly copied it and stored the vials, marking one decisively for the deposition. As for putting the memory into her own mind... well, it was simply out of the question. Taking another deep breath she summoned any remaining steadiness she had.

'That was a bit... unexpected. Let's just... continue, then. We don't have too much longer to go before I'll be able to map out the entirety of your memory and then I can build a model so we can Heal it of the... well, the damage incurred in Azkaban mainly.'

She still shook a bit, particularly her hands. Bellatrix stared at it, and then reached out her own shaking limb, placing it on top of Hermione's hand before she had time to pull away. Bellatrix's hand was cold and firm and unexpectedly heavy.

'Maybe we need some tea first.' she suggested.

'Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare to be all empathetic about this!' Hermione screeched, drawing back violently from the other woman.

'It's a bleeding memory, Granger! I can't do anything else about it! It's not there to wound you personally, you know!'

'As if it matters! You have another one in there with the intent to wound me all over it! It's not as if they're not related, even! Sensory deprivation? You absolute monster, I can't believe you!'

Bellatrix looked quite stricken.

'I didn't intend... I didn't choose that memory on purpose.'

'Exactly how many people have you tortured, really? Is this just the first in an endless parade of similar memories?' Hermione accused. She felt her heart beat in her hands and her temple and somewhere in the back of her neck as her eyes levelled with Bellatrix. 'You know, never mind, never fucking mind. I need to rethink this, this whole thing. I've got to speak with the Department.' she turned and tried to leave, but Bellatrix flung herself in front of the door before she could.

'You can't speak with them! I can't go back, Granger, I just can't! They've taken everything, alright? Just let me... just let me give you my sodding memories so we don't have to do this anymore. Let's just get it over with, alright?'

'Let me out.' Hermione ground out. Bellatrix lingered only for a second before getting out of her way.

Hermione warded the door, locking Bellatrix in, before grabbing the telephone in the hallway. She stood there staring at the dreadful machine, uncertain. Who could she phone? Who could she tell? Ron didn't have a phone and neither did Harry. Neville was at Hogwarts, so he didn't have a phone, Ginny and Roger didn't have one... Tonks was a no go, too. It was useless. She called up Luna, whose Muggle boyfriend somehow had not caught on that she wasn't just 'alternative' and had gifted her a mobile phone.

After a brief conversation she returned, reluctantly, to the study yet again.

'I need to... we need to go over this.' she pointed to the bottle where the memory was contained. 'Sit down.'

Bellatrix looked briefly as though she might protest before plopping down carelessly on her chair.

'There are lots like it.' she said quietly. 'They're what I remember most clearly after St. Mungos had their way with me.'

'Well, I mean... I overreacted. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, I suppose all those other memories just had me forgetting for a moment... well, who I am dealing with.' Hermione answered, absently. It had been a mistake to react so violently. She needed Bellatrix to entrust her with the entirety of her memory and reactions like the one she'd had were not helpful.

'I think we've got the memories we need to in order to create a reconstruction. So I suggest we go for a full extraction tomorrow at the island. Which means we'll have to go over the details of what we have today so I can get everything sorted. I'll need to ask you some questions. Do you have the energy for that?'

Bellatrix nodded.

A/N: I've revised this story, though apart from some grammar changes, a scene deletion, and some slight detail changes, there's not that big a difference. Of course, as you may have noticed the chapter numbers has decreased and all the chapters are of a slightly more even length.

Reviews are much appreciated. I admit I'm a little bit sad that I get so few reviews.

Anyway, have a wonderful day, dear reader :)