Bellatrix' head throbbed painfully when she woke up again. Groaning she sat up in her bed and dug her face into her palms, rubbing her temples with her pointer and middle fingers.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She flinched at the unpleasant memory suddenly rushing through her brain. Her hands dropped dejectedly, one of them placing itself on her heart.
He killed me, she thought incredulously, he… he threw me away like I was garbage, like I was filth.
Anger was rising inside her, tears welling up in her eyes while her right hand convulsively clutched her chest. The witch lowered her head and quietly cried into her left palm, tears now running freely.
"Why?" she whimpered in a broken whisper, "why is this happening to me?"
Suddenly a door burst open and a guy stepped into the room. Bellatrix jerked her head his way.
"Hey, you woke up," he chirped cheerfully upon seeing her and smiled benignly. He took a step closer but stopped immediately, when the witch vividly crawled back on her bed, trying to get more distance between her and the strange man. She looked around, searching for her wand, but couldn't find it anywhere. So, instinctively, she stood up and pressed her back against the wall, hissing and baring her fangs at him.
"There is no need to be alarmed," the man assured her and set down the bag he was wearing on a nearby desk, "you are perfectly safe here." He started rummaging around in his sachet until he produced a glass-vial, filled to the brim with a red liquid.
Bellatrix, meanwhile, frantically looked around the small room. The walls were decorated with stuffed deer-heads and birds. Skulls of different animals were also portrayed and above the desk, where the man's bag was settled, hung a strange stick made out of wood and metal.
"Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you? What happened?" the witch fired off her questions, breathing heavily.
"You are in one of many shooting lodges my Master calls his own," the stranger answered and chuckled a little, "he is quite fond of the Muggle ways of hunting." He pulled up a chair and sat down on it a short distance away from the bed Bellatrix was still standing on. "But, please, have a seat and calm yourself," he said soothingly and gestured to the edge of the bed, "as I said earlier, there is no need for you to worry."
The vampiress eyed him suspiciously, while he only kept smiling at her in that overly friendly manner he had since his arrival. She didn't trust that smile at all.
"My name is Gregory Paxton, by the way," he raised his voice again, "a loyal servant to Master Basilius, who so benevolently saved your life. Hopefully, knowing that will ease your mind at least a little."
Surprisingly enough, it did. Although being reminded of that vampire irked her quite a bit, hearing that this guy worked for him actually helped her relax. So, she chose to oblige for now – she did need answers, after all. She sat down right opposite of Gregory, whose smile only grew wider. Somehow, it made her sick.
"Here, have this," he immediately said as soon as she had settled down and eagerly shoved the blood-vial into her hands, "it'll help regain your strength." She looked down at the bottle only to realize that she was, in fact, very thirsty. Her eyes closed pleasurably, as she breathed in the beguiling scent of blood, after she had removed the cork. Zealously, she gulped down the delicious contend and hummed in satisfaction. She had really needed that.
"Well, then," Greg's voice snapped the vampiress out of her moment of divine bliss. She had almost forgotten he was there. "I believe you still have questions that need answering." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs comfortably. "Please, go ahead."
For a short time Bellatrix just looked at him in silence, a myriad of questions running through her brain. She let her eyes wander about the cosy room for a few seconds, before finally coming to a conclusion. There was really only one thing to ask right now, "What exactly happened to me?" Her words were muttered darkly, almost devoid of any emotion. "All I can remember is that I—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"—died," she breathily finished her sentence and dropped her gaze. "He... he killed me," Bellatrix whispered shakily, her eyes welling up, "the Dark Lord, he... he used the killing curse on me." She tried her best to hold back the tears, but couldn't. "I should be dead. The killing curse is supposed to kill everything that lives. So, how am I still alive?" The sound of her voice grew more desperate with every word she spoke. She balled herself up, hugging her knees tightly, as she quietly cried into them.
"And where is Basilius? Isn't he supposed to be here – to comfort me?"
She hiccoughed... and ceased to cry instantly.
Why did I say that? she wondered bewilderedly. The words had just flown out of her without a second thought. She didn't know why but, somehow, they felt like the right thing to say. After all, he had been there for her, when she woke up after becoming a vampire. So, why wasn't he here this time? Did he not care? And why did she care? He was the one to get her into this mess. She didn't need him. She hated him. And she hated herself for missing him.
She groaned miserably. Why couldn't her mind and heart agree for once regarding that vampire?
Only now realising again that she wasn't alone, Bellatrix raised her head and placed her feet back on the ground while hastily wiping away the last remainders of her tears. After regaining her regal posture she looked expectantly at the man in front of her as if nothing had happened. Gregory, however, had only regarded her stoically. His smile was long gone, replaced by a serious expression.
"I am very sorry you had to go through that," he spoke, ignoring the little tantrum she just had. The witch was very thankful for that, even though she would never admit to it.
"Dying, verily, is no enjoyable experience," Greg went on sympathetically, his words catching Bellatrix' interest.
"So, I did die?", she looked at him emptily, her voice only a whisper, "then how is it that I am still alive?"
The benign smile returned to his face as he answered, "Well, technically, you are not 'still alive' – more like 'alive again', I'd say." That earned him a confused frown from the vampiress. "You see," he uncrossed his legs to bend forward and leaned on them with his elbows, "vampires are so called 'undead'. Naturally, they, as all living creatures, can be killed, with the slight difference, that the undead actually return to life." That certainly was new information to her.
"So, I won't stay dead no matter how often I am killed?" It was more of a realization on Bellatrix part than an actual question.
"Not quite. There, of course, are ways to permanently end a vampire's life, but they'd best be explained by Master Basilius," Greg answered regardless in a pleasantly chatty voice, "but for the most part you just brush it off and revive after some time. In fact, your heart started beating again within mere minutes of your arrival."
The witch nodded her understanding but then, again, furrowed her brows in bewilderment, "Wait, what do you mean by that? Are you saying I was—" She paused shortly. It felt weird to say it out loud. "—still dead when I arrived here? How exactly did I get here, then?" Her tone had something menacing to it.
Still smiling, Gregory simply pointed at the nightstand with all the calm in the world. Bellatrix followed the silent request and spotted a single small object lying on the bedside table.
"A hairpin?" she inquired monotonously and returned her gaze at him.
"It is actually a port key," he answered smugly, raising the finger he had used to point.
The witch just raised her eyebrow, unimpressed.
"When Voldemort returned, Master Basilius knew that he would free you eventually, so he enchanted the pin and put it on you," Greg started to explain with a pride in his voice that seemed totally unwarranted, "it's a one-way port key, bewitched to activate as soon as a great deal of magic would pour threw it."
Bellatrix lowered her eyes. His last words had hit her unexpectedly hard. She felt so much at once. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. Betrayal.
"So, he knew the Dark Lord would—" She interrupted herself with a snort.
Gregory's smile grew more compassionate than ever before, "No, he didn't. It was a simple miscalculation." He chuckled a little and leaned back in his chair. "He assumed the amount of magic used to apparate would be enough to set it off. But clearly, it wasn't," the man continued with a sigh, "so, only when Voldemort blasted you with the Killing Curse did the port key activate and send you here." Another giggle escaped his throat. "It was quite a surprise when your dead body appeared out of nowhere back then."
Although it sent a shiver down her spine to have her dead body mentioned so casually, his words actually helped to ease her mind. She didn't know exactly why but it was a real relieve to her that Basilius hadn't sent her to her death knowingly. A small smile even pricked at the corner of her lips, but it vanished just as fast. Yet again she was put off by something Gregory had said.
"What do you mean with 'back then'? How long have I been here, exactly?"
Greg seemed to ponder the answer for a moment before he casually responded, "About five months."
Bellatrix froze completely. Seconds passed by in which the vampiress only stared at the man in front of her. He, as well, kept quiet for the time being to allow her to process this new and overwhelming information.
"FIVE MONTHS?!" she ultimately yelled out, "I've been here for five months?! How? Why?"
Greg laughed a little at her outburst.
"Well, it's not unheard of that vampires rest for long periods of time. Since, being undead, time means practically nothing to them," the man grinned amused, "I think the longest a vampire ever slept was more than a cen—"
"Shut up," the witch cut in, grasping her head in frustration, "that's… that's too much."
"I'm sorry. I know this must come as a shock."
"Shut up!" she yelled again and shot him a pointed look, "just get out. Leave me alone."
Greg nodded and stood up from his chair. "As you wish." He went to leave the room but turned around before he did so, "If you need anything, simply call for me." And with those last words he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Bellatrix kept sitting on her bed in silence for several minutes, trying to wrap her head around the situation. At some point she lied down and curled herself to a ball.
Five months. Asleep for five months. Five months since the Dark Lord had killed her. Where was she supposed to go from here? What was she supposed to do now? She had nowhere to go, no purpose to fulfil. When the Dark Lord cast her out, any meaning to her live had been stripped from her. Her very existence became meaningless. And now, since she was a vampire, it would be so for all eternity.
She curled herself up even more as quiet sobs gradually filled the room.
No!
This couldn't be it. She wouldn't allow it to be. She had to do something – something to regain his favour, his trust… his affection.
Determined, she sat up again and wiped her cheeks clear of her tears.
Now she only had to figure out a way to actually do it. The hatred he had shown her for being a vampire had been massive. It would require a great gesture to get back on his good side. So, what feat would be big enough? What would the Dark Lord want more than anything?
She mulled those questions over in her head again and again, trying to find an answer, and that's when it hit her. She knew what she needed to do, knew, what he wanted most.
The boy!
Harry Potter. The boy who lived. The boy who inexplicitly took away the Dark Lords power. If she could present the Potter boy to him, or better yet, kill him herself, he would most assuredly be pleased with her and accept her back to his side.
But she had to find the boy first. Where could he be? She took a glance at the calendar. June. The witch narrowed her eyes. Potter would be about 15 years old now. She sighed heavily. There was only one place he could be right now.
"Hogwarts," she muttered darkly.
That posed a problem. Security around Hogwarts was uncharacteristically high for a school. And even if she managed to get past it, there was still Dumbledore. She had to avoid his attention at all cost. It wouldn't be easy.
And she needed her wand. It had to be somewhere around here. She'd had it back at Malfoy-Manor, so it must've been transported here together with her. But as much as she looked around the room, she couldn't find it. However, she had a hunch who might know about its whereabouts.
"Gregory!" Bellatrix yelled, trying to sound as pathetic as possible, what, given her current circumstances, wasn't all too hard.
It only took seconds before the door flew open and Gregory entered the room, wearing his annoyingly gentle smile. "Yes, Madame Bellatrix?" he spoke in his kind voice, what only served to irk her even more.
"Where—," she stopped immediately, realizing that her tone was far too hostile to instil sympathy. She cleared her throat and started again, now trying to sound much more fragile, "W-Where is my wand?"
Greg's smile wavered for the fracture of a second before he replied calmly, "Master Basilius deemed it best for your wand to remain in my custody for the moment." Bellatrix gave him a queer look. "Rest assured that I will handle it with utmost care."
"I don't doubt that, but," the witch said quietly and lowered her head, kneading her hands anxiously, "I-I would feel much more comfortable, if I could hold onto it myself."
The man stared at the pathetic display the woman presented to him for a while, his compassion growing stronger every second. After a few more seconds he sighed deeply and turned to leave, "Just a moment."
Bellatrix lifted her gaze again, only barely managing to stifle a triumphant smirk.
Not much later Greg returned, holding a small case in his hands. She recognised the familiar shape of her wand through the clear glass. He sat down on the chair next to her bed and held the casket towards her, opening the lid in the process.
For a short moment she just stared at the piece of wood, before she hesitantly stretched out her arm and grabbed the wand. She took the magical object out of the case, examining it closely while gently caressing it. She was finally complete again.
"Thank you," she whispered, actually meaning it this time.
"You're welcome," Gregory smiled at her and stood up again, "but that stays our little secret, alright?" He winked and turned to leave the room.
Bellatrix watched him go and just before he reached the door, she raised her wand at him. "Petrificus totalus," she spoke and a flash of light left the tip of her weapon, hitting the kind man square in the back. His movements immediately froze and he tipped over, hitting the floor face first. The witch swiftly got up, a little surprised over her own actions. She had intended to use the Killing Curse on him, but something in the back of her head kept her from doing so.
Shrugging it off as a simple quirk of fate, she stepped closer to the unmoving body and bend down to get in his line of view.
"How did you not see this coming?" she teased coquettishly with a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. She let out a cackle as she hopped and danced around the room a little. "Well," she grabbed the sachet perched on the desk which, as she had assumed, contained more blood-vials, "you can give 'Master Basilius' my best regards." A wide, mocking smile crept its way on her face. "See you around," she sniggered, turned on the spot and disapparated with a crack.
Bellatrix reappeared in a dark back alley of Hogsmead and groaned dissatisfied over the unpleasant feeling of being pressed through a rubber tube. After dry retching she staggered towards the main street of the village, acutely focusing on staying in the shadows. A wasted effort, as it soon turned out. It was way too late, or early rather, for anyone to be out and about. That played greatly in her favour. The only problem was that it was already getting light out. Daybreak surely wasn't far off. She would have to hide for now.
With a quick look at the castle and its surroundings, she promptly decided that the Forbidden Forest would suffice as a hideout for now. The thicket of the trees would certainly spend enough shadow to protect her from the sunlight. So, the vampiress swiftly made her way through the village, still mostly moving within the shadows, for safety's sake.
When she made it to the edge of the settlement, something quite interesting, lying in a pile of trash a few metres away, caught her eye – the front page of an old edition of the Daily Prophet. The headline read:
"Dolores Jane Umbridge replaces Albus Dumbledore as headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
"So, the old man isn't even in the school right now," Bellatrix giggled gleefully, "that makes things a lot easier." With renewed vigour the witch entered the Forbidden Forest with a playful skip in her step, just as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountainside in the distance.
She carried her good mood deep into the woods, not really paying attention where she was going. With the old oaf out of Hogwarts, it would be child's play to get to the boy. She would snatch him and bring him before her Lord and then, he would happily take her back. He would overlook what she had become and see her value for who she was, not what she was.
Immediately after that last thought, she skidded to a halt.
See me for who I am? She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Not hate me for what I am?
She couldn't quite pinpoint it, but these thoughts somehow seemed familiar. Hating someone for what they were. Wasn't that exactly how he saw things? How he wanted her to think? How the pureblood society thought of…
Bellatrix violently shook her head, forcibly banning these traitorous thoughts from her mind.
Taking a step to resume to her self-imposed mission, she promptly came to a halt again as soon as she had looked up. Her inner debate, it seemed, had occupied her thoughts a bit too much, causing her to only realize now that she'd been surrounded by a horde of centaurs. A few had their bows at the ready, stretched to the stop, the arrows menacingly pointing at her. She slowly grabbed her wand, prepared to strike at any moment.
"What are you doing in our forest?" one of the horse-men, apparently their leader, spoke in a deep, demanding voice, "you have no business here." Bellatrix eyed them carefully. She was no idiot. She knew she couldn't take them all.
"You're right," she chose to comply and put her wand away, "I have no business with you.I only seek shelter until nightfall, then I'll be gone."
The centaur stared at her warily for a moment, "And why should I allow you to stay here?" The others stretched their bows even further. "We know who you are, Madam Lestrange," a mocking tone laid in his voice as he spoke her name, "the Dark Lord's lapdog. You despise us more than anyone, hate us because we don't fit in your picture of a perfect, pure world." He snorted disdainfully, "You are the worst kind of human." He raised his right arm to have his men prepare for the order to shoot her, when the witch raised her voice again.
"I am no human," she muttered darkly. It still felt strange to admit it, "Not anymore."
The leader of the half-breeds narrowed his lids and closed in on the raven-haired woman. She raised her head imperiously and when he looked into her gleaming, yellow eyes, his own widened in surprise.
"Lower your weapons," he withdrew his previous order and lowered his arm again.
"But... but Magorian, she is—"
"A vampire, yes," Magorian turned around with a stern look, "so, lower your weapons."
Hearing upon her true nature, all the centaurs gasped and did as they were told. The vampiress raised a brow in wonder. Their leader nodded his approval and turned back to Bellatrix. For a short while, the two of them only silently stared at each other.
"As much as I would like to end you right now, I'm afraid it would violate our treaty with the vampire race," Magorian broke the silence, regret clearly audible in his voice, "you are free to roam the forest." With those last muttered words, he turned around and, followed by his posse, galloped away into the thicket.
Bellatrix remained standing there, slightly confused.
So, the centaurs and vampires had a peace-treaty? Interesting. She would have to look into that later. But for now, her focus lied on finding a comfortable place to sit out the daylight. So, she made her way deeper into the trees, subconsciously moving closer to the castle.
After a little while she found a small space covered in moss, that seemed comfortable enough to sit on. That only left the problem of her current attire. She still wore the noble dress and tight corset she had changed into the night she returned to Malfoy-Manor. Which now, that she was aware of them, were quite unpleasant to wear.
So, she curtly decided to rip her corset apart. She took a deep breath of relieve before she tore her slim dress on the sides to free her legs.
Much better, she thought, genuinely smiling and let herself fall into the soft moss. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the cozy feeling of the cushy green patch beneath her. Yeah, she would definitely be able to endure this – maybe even get a few hours of sleep in. Although, she'd been sleeping for the past five months, so, perhaps, the idea was obsolete.
So, she just focused on the sound of the few birds singing a lovely melody, the subtle breeze, tenderly sweeping through the treetops and the wholesome fragrance of nearby flowers paired with the pleasant scent of the forest.
With time her soothing surroundings slowly took over and were about to gently carry her off into peaceful slumber.
"Not far now!" a distant shout, combined with the trampling of hooves, shook her out of her doze. She opened her eyes and furrowed her brows in the direction the noise had come from. "Just a little bit—," the voice, clearly a girl's, sounded again but was cut off mid-sentence. Her curiosity aroused, and, honestly, because of lack of something better to do, she followed the sound of hooves stomping the ground.
"I am Senior Undersecretary… you cannot – Unhand me, you animals… noooo!" another woman's voice shrieked. She saw a red flash in the far distance – somebody had used magic. The panicked cries of the woman grew steadily quieter as she, most likely, was carried away by the centaurs.
She was still too far away to understand all the other voices clearly. But she didn't need to, to know that the murmurs of the horse-men sounded angry.
"We're not going to say anything like that!" a boy shouted, "we know you didn't do what you did because we wanted you to—"
"They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!"
A loud roar sounded.
"They can join the woman!"
"You said you didn't hurt the innocent!" the girl from before shouted, her voice quivering. She was crying. "We haven't done anything to hurt you, we haven't used wands or threats, we just want to go back to school, please let us go back—"
Bellatrix stopped abruptly.
A prominent smell had caught her nose. A smell she was very familiar with – the smell of blood.
She suddenly felt a great thirst; her throat was drying up. Her head began to hurt and her vision became hazy. With every sniff the urge to just follow the delicious scent and tear into whatever lay at its end grew more and more.
Grasping her head, she remembered the satchel she'd brought with her and quickly produced a blood vial from it. Hastily the witch removed the cork and gulped down the desired liquid. As the delicious drink slit down her itching throat she felt instant relieve, but it was far from enough. The intense aroma of blood was too overwhelming as to be satisfied by such a small dose. So, she pulled out another vial and drained it in one swoop. And another; and another. Only after seven additional bottles she finally felt satisfied. Panting, she bent over and leaned on her knees.
What was that? She was certainly no stranger to these urges she felt every time the smell of blood reached her nose, but they had never been this strong before. It was so overpowering, so intense – like something inside her tried to take over her senses and mind. In one word, it felt terrifying.
Bellatrix shook her head vigorously to ban these thoughts from her mind. It was neither the time nor the place to think about something stupid like that. So, with a deep sigh, she erected herself again and scanned her surroundings. The trampling of the centaur's hooves had turned rather quiet and was fading further with every second. She couldn't hear anything else, except for the typical sounds of the woods. But she could still discern the beguiling scent of blood in the air, so, she decided to follow it.
The witch only had to take a few steps to make out voices not too far away. From what she could gather, they apparently were a group of students who seemed to desperately want to get to London for whatever reason. So, she didn't quite listen to them. Instead, she kept her focus on that alluring aroma that bewitched her senses. As if hypnotised, the vampiress crept ever closer towards the source of this most delicious of fragrances.
Hiding behind a big tree – only a few metres now separated her from the teenagers – she took a close look at the students. They were a group of six. A ginger boy and girl, obviously siblings, two dark haired boys and a blonde girl. But her greatest interest lay with the last member of the party, a brunette girl. She was covered in blood, not hers, according to the scent, but it didn't do anything to mask the fact that the bewitching perfume she had been smelling the last couple minutes came from that girl's blood.
Bellatrix took in another waft of the overwhelmingly prepossessing odour. Every little hair on her body immediately stood at attention, a spark shooting through her body. Her eyes developing a tunnel view, only seeing the young witch in front of her. Her fingers clenched around the tree she was hiding behind, her nails digging into the bark. Her teeth fletched and fangs bared, she was ready to pounce on her prey at any moment.
"It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it?"
Again, the witch froze completely. All her bloodlust gone instantly.
You-Know-Who… The Dark Lord… Why would they—
Suddenly, it dawned on her. Was that why they were trying to get to London? Were those kids planning to fight her Lord? But where? And why? Who would be stupid enough to…?
But she didn't have to look far for the answers. As she took a closer look at the bespectacled boy, she recognized the scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning, on his forehead.
Harry Potter. The boy who lived. He was right there, within her grasp. All she had to do was to raise her wand and cast the Killing Curse and it would all be over.
And yet, she refrained from doing it. Those kids weren't trying to go to London on a hunch. No, the Dark Lord must've something planned. He tried to lure him to the capital, into a trap. As much as she would like to end the boy right now and return to her Master's side, she wouldn't take away his fun of capturing and killing Potter himself. But she wanted to be there when he did.
The teenagers had meanwhile mounted a bunch of Thestrals and she watched them fly off.
Now, the only thing left for her was to find out where they were going. London, of course, but where exactly? There were only two places where they could have been headed: Diagon Alley or the Ministry of Magic.
However, since there was nothing of significance in Diagon Alley, and thus, no reason for the Dark Lord to lure him there, they must've been going to the Ministry of Magic.
So, with renewed vigour and a smile of anticipation on her lips, she turned on the spot and disapparated, once more experiencing the unpleasant feeling of being shoved through a rubber tube. But this time, she didn't care much, for soon, she would be reunited with her Lord.
Author's Note:
Sorry for the long wait. I hope I'll get the next one done faster.
A big thank's to everyone reading, following and reviewing.