Chapter 14

Chapter 14

November 23, 2003

They had slept for an entire day after the extraction, punctuated by nightmares ever so often. Bellatrix had screamed and pleaded in her sleep. Hermione for her part had pretended not to hear as to not disturb until she was certain the woman had gotten at least some rest. Bellatrix's state was unexpected. She should be blank, docile. Nothing should be frightening her like this. Instead, her eyes were wide and desperate, pupils dilated wide enough that her eyes were an all-consuming black.

Hermione finally took some pillows from the guest room and transfigured a comfortable makeshift bed in the sitting room where the grey daylight streamed in through a large window and the fireplace crackled comfortingly. She guided her shivering prisoner onto the bed and proceed to do another extraction. By then she was sure she must have made some mistake. She pulled out something that certainly did not seem like memories. It was unknown to her entirely, the strangely liquid bits sticking to the end of her wand. They were a deep crimson luminescent colour, disturbingly reminiscent of blood, and rather than get too caught up in that she put them in their own vials marking them for research. She fed her prisoner a rainbow bun and lulled Bellatrix into sleep again with the aid of a calming draft and some petting of the tangled nest of her hair. It wasn't really Bellatrix any longer – almost all of her had been removed by now, the rest of her trapped in the back of her mind and silenced.
It had been ages since Hermione had done this last, she realized. The last time she'd had to lock someone's mind into a smaller part of their mind had been with a wizard whose memories had developed a tendency to burst bits of magic that caused seizures. This process was quite a bit more delicate and complicated as it was not a mere task of isolating and extracting one part of the mind for some slight alterations but a mission of reconstructing the entirety of it. It seemed almost unfathomably difficult given how troubling it had been to perform simpler operations.

Once Bellatrix stilled, Hermione wandered over to her study where there were four very large glass vats of memories in addition to the full Pensieve waiting for her. The nimble work of putting everything in separate vials and sorting it by presumed date was the first very droll but thankfully simple task. If everything had proceeded as it should have, Bellatrix should have been in her own house now that she was calm, but even apart from her health concerns Hermione thinks it too cruel to send the woman away while she examines her so intimately.
As the hours passed by she was only disturbed once. Hermione deduced then that Bellatrix was quite simply hungry and brought her a cup of tea and a cold pasty before continuing her work. She'd had to split the study into four sections for the sorting, and as such was having a bit of trouble keeping up with the time, so she'd quite forgotten it was time to feed her patient. However, everything else was going well for now. She set a wand alarm and after an hour she returned to the sitting room to tuck Bellatrix in after giving her a Draught of Peace and putting on a record of magical children's songs that cause drowsiness.

Then she returned again to her work.

November 24, 2003

She found them – the memories of Azkaban. They were very easy to find, actually, once the initial mess of the large vats were sorted. The memories didn't have the silver sheen of the other memories – good or bad – but a sullen greyness and they certainly did not pop easily into images like other memories did. They filled vial upon vial upon vial in the floor-to-ceiling shelving she had put up. Twenty years per wall equalled almost an entire wall filled with nothing but Azkaban. Most memories separated and marked, Hermione felt she'd done quite well, but she was nonetheless disturbed by this second instance of Bellatrix's mind yielding something that looked not quite as it should. Many other memories were also seemingly tampered with or else had lost some of their sheen and seemed oddly disjointed. Others seemed to be shining extra hard and swirled wildly in their vials in an oddly manic fashion.

She had no time to dwell on it. They would be dealt with in time, but for now she had to put her patient together as much as she could. Hermione decided on an elaborate breakfast as a preparatory course of action, as this was clearly Bellatrix's weakness. She got everything ready before waking the witch and leading her into the kitchen.
The woman looked drawn but blank as she sat down to pick slowly at her food, her hair an increasing tangle as they days wore on, her eyes framed in grey and purple and her shoulders sagging in defeat.

'How are you feeling?' Hermione ventured in an overtly chipper voice. Bellatrix didn't even look up. 'It's been a rough few days, huh? Do you need a pepper-up potion d'you think?'

Bellatrix kept poking at an egg, before slowly nodding at it.

Hermione knew then that they were getting nowhere near as far as she'd hoped today. The woman should be calm and trusting at this point, but she was clearly not.
After breakfast she got Bellatrix back into the sitting room bed and did all the diagnostic tests she knew to do before finally deciding to go as severe as she could. She brought out the Draught of Living Death and administered it before performing another extraction from the sleeping woman's mind, expecting a peaceful and empty expanse when she drew up her wand. It shouldn't be possible to draw any more out of her, but something blue appeared, then something purple. She supposed they could be bindings keeping the woman together or alive, but she doesn't look worse for wear without them. She set them aside, marking these, too, for research.
Hermione knew it was too risky to obliviate or alter Bellatrix's mind, but she felt very out of her depth when she could not even identify the things she'd pulled out of her patient. It was a frightening prospect that she could have somehow broken the woman.

She kept at it until she was exactingly certain Bellatrix was only an empty husk. She ran several more diagnostic tests on everything that came out of the witch before finally succumbing to some badly needed but very uneasy sleep, no nearer any answer.

November 25, 2003

It was unbearable, Hermione felt. The house was unnaturally quiet, and Bellatrix shook violently under her blanket on the couch, a feat of despair seeming almost impossible. Hermione had slept on the sofa, unwilling to let her patient be alone should something happen. Without her mind and her memories the woman seemed about as sturdy as a leaf, and the extraordinary surrender of power inherent in this procedure spurred a great and unexpected tenderness in Hermione. She felt responsible not only to do her job, but to care for the woman given over to her so completely.
But she was simply in no fit state to be patched back together yet. Something in this woman's mind or body must have gone wrong. Hermione ran yet more diagnostics before casting whatever soothing and healing magic she could safely offer. Hopefully the woman would fall quiet eventually, and they could proceed.
As the day wore on she started to give up hope. As this was day number 5, she decided to throw caution to the wind: she was officially panicking.

She set it all up as best she could and left herself four hours to find some help. This was not the original plan at all any longer, but Hermione was nothing if not a woman well versed in being forced to abruptly abandon her plans. She was ready.

Hour 1 – Ministry of Magic, London

'I don't have much time.' she announced as she rushed through the reception area. It was 4 in the afternoon, the middle of the rush to get in or out before the Ministry's ordinary business hours would end. 'I have an emergency meeting in about 2 minutes.' She smiled as best she could at the security wizard, hoping the check would go fast.

'The line is what the line is. I'm going as fast as I can. Get in the back like everyone else.' the wizard replied, looking a bit put out. But she feels certain it is the heavy sigh of annoyance she let out at that which caused the procedure to take a full 10 minutes.

The elevator stopped on every floor, letting people in and out, because of course it simply had to now she was in a rush. In all it took her another 10 minutes before she was at the Department doors, bursting through and feeling the familiar magic checking her authorizations. She pressed on, waiting for the right door to open for only a second before it did and she noticed she was panting slightly at the exertion, but she'd gotten where she needed at last and Andromeda and the Minister were sitting in front of her, waiting.

'Something's gone wrong somehow.' she begun, no time for any nonsense. 'I gave it 4 hours. I need to know what's gone wrong and what authorizations I have to fix it.' She addressed these concerns to each of them by way of greeting. She pulled out a vial from her pocket and uncorked it, marched over to the Pensieve on the desk and quickly dumped the contents in. A series of images of Bellatrix's condition flashed by.

'It looks serious.' the Minister declared, 'I hereby grant you all authority to do whatever you deem best for her health. Get the memories and her statement and prep her for trial through whichever means you feel is necessary.'

Looking a bit disturbed he flicked his wand sealing her increase in authority. 'Good day to you.' he nodded at them both and left.

Acutely aware half an hour was already gone, Hermione tapped her heal impatiently at her boss. Andromeda did not move a muscle until the door had closed behind Kingsley.

'The extraction seems successful. What's the diagnostic?' She looked vaguely off into the room and Hermione conjured the results so they flashed in midair where Andromeda was looking. Andromeda's expression was intent as she read.

'We've had some trouble with some prisoners who have certain kinds of bindings on them. Are you certain all bindings are removed?'

'Yes.' Hermione practically hissed, her anxiety immediately shifted to annoyance as her competence is questioned.

'And all lingering hexes and permanent curses?'

'Of course.' she ground out, fuming now.

'I believe it might be something Voldemort used to patch people together after Azkaban. Specialized dark magic, just as you'd expect. The Aurors have some people who know how to diagnose and treat it, and luckily one of them is available.' she smiled, 'Get Auror Tonks to give you some new diagnostics to evaluate the prisoner and we'll take it from there. It isn't your field of expertise, after all. We'll have to take it one step at a time.'

Andromeda's voice was calm and collected and Hermione could simply not believe it.

'She's your sister!' she tried, hoping whatever secret Andromeda was keeping would burst forth. 'She's obviously suffering!'

'I suppose in the very strictest sense she is my sister, but that's hardly any cause for this consternation, Hermione. As for her suffering, well... what else is new?' Andromeda's eyes levelled her easily, almost lazily before softening. 'Go see Dora. And if it means so much, let her show you how to break the binding on the first go. You have my permission and my orders.'

She did not need to be told twice.

Hour 2 – Nymphadora Tonks' Residence, Birmingham England

Leaving the Ministry was another lengthy affair, but luckily the Floo connection to Dora's house was as quick as ever. She sent a quick message ahead via enchanted coin (all the rage these days, it seemed), and when she stepped out of the elevator her beloved friend was standing in front of the fireplace with a series of diagrams already out for her perusal, allowing hope to burst forth in Hermione's chest again as Tonks stumbled forth to greet her.

They looked over everything together before practicing and going over it again. When Hermione's wand alarm went off to alert her 3 and a half hours have passed and she needs to get back, she thanks Tonks profusely, and simply hopes very much that this will work.

Hour 0

She waited patiently in the study until she heard the bathroom door open and shut. She immediately walked past and into the sitting room to check on her patient. She began her diagnostic and healing, finally succeeding in calming the fitfully sleeping Bellatrix, whose ghostly complexion was feeling more symbolically apt by the minute, but it does not put her quite right. Deciding to forego formalities Hermione stuffs her face in the Floo and asks Andromeda what to do.

'Well, I suppose she doesn't have a very wholesome soul under there. It's probably nothing more than that – what else did you expect? She'll probably never be quite as she should regardless of what you do.' Andromeda muses. 'I'm sure it's all just fine. Proceed with the healing, Hermione.'

Whatever it is that's gone right will have to do, then. This day has already been too long. Hermione gives Bellatrix the antidote to wake her up, and begins her spellwork.

Another ten hours pass before Hermione collapses on the sofa.

November 26

Once again Hermione had deviated from the plan, but it seemed to have gone well. Bellatrix's mind seemed whole and strong and her body was perfectly healthy in every way after a series of targeted treatments. It was time to begin with the memories. After much consideration Hermione had decided to start with a select few memories the she felt were both safe and comforting – Azkaban would have to wait regardless of how effective she suspected that prompt would be. For now, she would only give back the memories that were whole and untarnished so she could create a strong and visceral recall without any pains or qualms in her patient. The spellwork would be complicated, but worth it if it worked.

Toying like this with minds and memories was not a precise branch of magic. Hermione didn't quite know what she was doing, but she was still one of the world's foremost experts, which the Department preferred to be a well-kept secret. Things like this were not supposed to be possible yet.
They called it Soul Magic but it was something between psychiatry, brain surgery and neuroscience in so many ways, requiring practitioners to deal in emotions, memories, lingering effects of magic, the nature of the mind and soul, and not least try to parse where these things intersected.
Hermione had grown to like this magic because it forced her to rely equally on her knowledge, craft and instinct. Her instincts had been so acutely disjointed after the war, and it helped lessen her panic when she practiced honing and shaping every instinct toward picking up only relevant input. It felt therapeutic, and she was by now very good at it.

She let Bellatrix sit for a while with some childhood memories she'd uncovered clouded in other recollections – a hug from her father, being served her favourite meal, listening to her mother read her and her sisters a story. She administered a potion, allowing every synapse to fire, every connection to be made. She monitored Bellatrix's feelings, although her uncharacteristically goofy grin already confirmed this was going according to plan. Then she began the spellwork, chanting the long verses of a Healing Charm in Arameic and moving her wand in a 16-pointed star behind Bellatrix's neck.
She began filling in recent and early memories slowly, in parallel. Swirling her wand about in great oval spirals rising 35 degrees here, falling 35 degrees there, letting the chosen series of complete memories fill and fill Bellatrix's mind, bringing her slowly back.

November 27

Bellatrix's exclamation of 'What in Salazar's name is going on? What've you done to me, you blasted muggle?' came at precisely 7 o'clock in the morning, and Hermione could finally relax. Everything was back and in order, copies safely stored. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and Bellatrix shook her head violently before barking 'I'm think I'm going to be ill!' before promptly emptying the contents of her stomach onto the sitting room floor and then sitting up looking slightly flabbergasted.

Hermione quickly vanished the sick and found herself smiling broadly at the lively reaction – it certainly seemed the witch had been brought back much the same.
'Perhaps a bath?' she suggested before attempting to grasp Bellatrix's arm to guide her off the bed where she was sitting, clenching her hands. The older woman drew back sharply and stared at her in bewilderment for a few seconds. 'I can do it myself.' she finally mustered and hopped inelegantly off the bed. Hermione followed her to check she was of sound enough mind to locate the bathroom before heading into the kitchen to prepare them a meal.

When Bellatrix re-emerged, looking much better (not least because she'd found some way to deal with her hair) and quite hungry, she invited the witch to sit down and they began their meal in a loaded silence.

'I feel different.' Bellatrix stated after scarfing down her fourth sausage, her hunger rivalling a teenaged Ron.

'You are a bit different, actually, but we're nowhere near finished with that yet.' Hermione smiled. Bellatrix looked at her for a long moment with wide open eyes before drawing her vision sharply down toward her food again.

'You look like absolute shit.'

Hermione had the urge to laugh, but held it back. 'I haven't gotten much sleep. It's not been a holiday for me while you were out these past 6 days, you know.'

'Right.' the dark witch gaped and returned to her meal. 'What's the next thing to do, then?'

'I reckon I'll start going over some of your memories with you after I get some sleep and get a better look at the most appropriate candidates for examination.'

She should have really sent the witch away to her new home now, but Hermione didn't really mind having her there so instead she found herself suggesting a trashy romance novel as a way to pass the time for Bellatrix before heading upstair to her bedroom.

'It's about a witch stuck on an island with no magic where she falls in love with this muggle' Bellatrix's eyebrows draw up in a massive show at scepticism and Hermione finds herself smiling wide again at the lively witch, 'Oh, just read it, it's priceless. They've got muggles completely wrong and the whole things is mostly written for the naughty bits, I expect.' she winks, and Bellatrix's eyes go even wider in dismay, her mouth forming a sneer. 'Goodnight then.' Hermione quickly cuts her off, grinning to herself as she exits decisively.

A job well done is it's own reward, even if it is just bringing back Bellatrix Lestrange.

A/N: A much quicker update this time! I am so thankful for all the feedback, you're all super duper :) The formalities are really getting out of the way now, so this train is moving full steam ahead! That said, the updates will still take some time, but don't lose hope as I am for sure sticking with this until the bitter end.