Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
Beta by FedererEx
Chapter 13
Bellatrix rolled her eyes as Wesley Michaels cast a protego shield to deflect her hex instead of dodging like he was supposed to.
"Can't let that go unpunished," she thought.
She hammered him with a pair of wordless banishing spells to soften him up.
"Depulso!" she said with a flourish of her wand, the full-powered banisher shredding what remained of his shield and sending him ten feet through the air to land heavily, knocking over one of the desks of the unused classroom in the process. He groaned in pain as she stalked the short distance to stand over him and point her wand in his face.
"Did I say shield?" she asked.
Michaels shook his head and mumbled an apology.
"I don't know why I'm even bothering with this if you can't even follow simple instructions. Dodge, and counter, or reverse," she said, punctuating her statement with a wordless stinging hex in the face.
He yelped in pain and scrabbled backwards, standing up with his back to the wall, one hand on his already swelling cheek and the other holding his wand out at Julia, who only smirked at him with a hand on her hip, the tip of her wand still pointed at him.
"What's with the stinging hexes all the time?" Michaels said, bordering on a whine.
"Pain is a good motivator, and they're less permanent than cutters," Bellatrix said, "plus you get this cute expression on your face when I hit you with one; it's half the reason I'm still coming to these tutoring sessions."
She'd lied, actually, she needed to vent her frustration at being surrounded by idiots all the time, and Wesley Michaels was a perfect and willing punching bag. If his duelling improved as a result, well, that was a fortunate by-product. She sent another pair of stinging hexes at him, and he managed to twist away from both of them.
"Ha!" he said, only for a third stinging hex to hit him in the thigh, "Ow!"
"You forgot the counter, widdle-cutie-Wesley," Julia said.
Her wand vibrated in her hand and she pouted.
"Hmm. Bad luck, Michaels, looks like time's up," she said, sidestepping and slipping between two desks towards the door.
Michaels sighed, perhaps in relief, perhaps in frustration.
"Am I at least getting any better?" he asked, limping over to one of the desks they'd moved to make space for their sparring session and sliding it back to its original spot.
Bellatrix paused by the door to look back at him.
"You're still shit at duelling, but so are those three jokers who jumped you on the first day of class, so who knows, maybe you could take one or two of them now," she replied, "only one way to find out."
"I'm not looking to pick a fight," he said.
"Sure," she replied, undoing the locking charm and opening the door.
"How'd you get so good, anyway?" he asked.
Bellatrix made a show of thinking carefully as she tapped her wand against the doorframe and looked around the room
"Truthfully?" she asked, and Wesley nodded, "talent, practise, and a lot of pain."
Michaels sighed as he went to retrieve another desk.
"Same time next week, White?" he asked.
"Unless something comes up. Au revoir, Michaels," she replied with a little wave of her wand, leaving him to rearrange the room.
Bellatrix skipped down the hall to the staircase leading down to the dungeon, looking forward to getting back to the lab. About halfway down, she remembered herself and slowed to a walk. Over the past few weeks, she'd fallen into something of a routine, attending classes, quidditch practice, tutoring Michaels, and then spending every spare moment in the lab with Hermione. More often than not, she found herself looking forward to her time in the lab, mostly because Hermione knew what she was doing, and didn't talk about useless, unimportant things.
Julia opened the door to the old potions classroom to find the bushy-haired mudblood bent over a cauldron, stirring anticlockwise with one hand, slowly, observing the effects after each full rotation and marking down notes with the other hand. Julia kept quiet so as not to disturb her and checked on the brew she'd left to set before leaving for the duelling session. The boiling hot liquid had cooled and turned a light green colour, just as she'd predicted. She opened the black covered journal next to the cauldron and placed an 'X' next to that particular combination. When Hermione finally stood up straight with a sigh, Julia spoke up.
"No good here," Julia said, "green, just like the last five."
"This one's no good either," Hermione said, "I think that's it then, there's no overlap, repairing obliviation damage is a dead-end. We're going to have to de-age them temporarily."
"Are you sure?" Julia asked, "I thought we still had a good twenty percent of the permutation to go through?"
Hermione shook her head.
"I found a redundancy in the arithmancy that lets us eliminate all the rest of the tests, that's why we switched the order last week," Hermione said, "I didn't want to say anything until confirming it with Professor Vector this morning."
Julia furrowed her brows.
"May I see it?" she asked.
Hermione nodded and pulled a notebook from her mokeskin pouch, flipped a few pages, and passed it to Julia. Hermione's tight script laid out an elegant proof over two pages, neatly cancelling out over a quarter of the original permutation. Vector had written a note at the bottom 'Masterfully done, please consider a career in Arithmancy!'
"This is brilliant," Julia said.
"For a mudblood," Bellatrix thought.
"You just saved us two weeks of work, maybe more," she added.
"You always sound surprised," Hermione said with a half-smile.
Julia rolled her eyes.
"The world is filled with idiots and numbskulls, it's refreshing to find someone who can figure something out before me," Julia replied, grinning internally as a touch of rose coloured Hermione's cheeks.
"Bit of luck combined with borderline unhealthy obsession," Hermione said.
Julia smiled and snapped her fingers.
"All those plants we asked Neville to grow, we should replace them with ones we're more likely to need now," she said.
Hermione nodded.
"I was thinking the same thing. We can tell him over lunch," she said. The two girls vanished the remains of the potions, cleaned the stirring tools and the pots, wiped down the counters, and each recorded their findings in separate notebooks. Hermione had insisted on two copies and a backup in a separate location, to avoid a repeat of the previous catastrophe. By the time they'd finished and climbed the steps to the ground floor, Bellatrix's stomach was well along the journey from gentle reminders to insistent grumbling and she looked forward to sitting down to a good meal. As they approached the large double doors though, a loud bang echoed from inside the Hall, followed by a small commotion, and laughter. A dark-haired Ravenclaw came tearing out of the Great Hall, a trio of green and yellow bats dive bombing him as he ducked and dodged. Bellatrix decided the sight was far too amusing to interfere with, and quietly stepped to the side to let the boy pass by.
"Moron, what was he thinking," Hermione muttered.
They entered the hall and Hermione led them to Ginny Weasley; the redhead sat by herself, quietly munching on a sandwich. Hermione sat down next to the quidditch captain, who ignored her. Bellatrix sat down across and helped herself to some roast beef.
"Well, what did he do?" Hermione asked.
"Kept 'accidentally' brushing my leg and arm, and asking to go to Hogsmeade," Ginny said, still observing her sandwich, "I did warn him."
Julia smirked. Ah, so that's what's going on.
"Didn't you tell him Harry's going to be there?" Hermione asked. Bellatrix stopped mid-chew and paid rapt attention while simultaneously trying to not look like she was eavesdropping.
"No, and I have no regrets," Ginny said, looking up from her food with a sly grin.
Hermione chuckled at that.
"You're here early, taking a break?" Ginny asked.
"Actually, we've just wrapped something up and we're looking for Neville, have you seen him?" Hermione asked.
Ginny shook her head.
"Probably still in the greenhouses," she replied.
Hermione nodded.
"I need to head to the quidditch pitch, I'll come with, see how he's taking it," Ginny said.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"You didn't hear? He and Parks broke up yesterday," Ginny said.
The conversation continued on after that, and Bellatrix couldn't really follow along with the dating gossip because she was still stuck on the fact Potter would be in Hogsmeade this weekend.
"Will Ron Weasley be there too?" she thought, "is this my opportunity to strike at the three of them?"
She chewed thoughtfully and stared off into space while the other two girls continued chatting. Time had become a consideration ever since that Prophet article proclaiming Harry Potter had slain one of the Dark Lord's inner circle on Halloween. The longer she waited, the fewer allies they would have.
"Am I really ready to take a shot at Potter? The damn half-blood survived the Killing Curse, twice. If that didn't work, how do I know another spell will?" she thought, "I'll only have one opening, and I haven't prepared nearly as much as I would have liked… but if I don't take this chance now, will there be another one?"
"Coming Julia?" Hermione asked. Both she and Ginny were already on their feet.
Julia startled and scooped up a sandwich to devour on the way. She followed the other two out of the Great Hall onto the castle grounds and into the late November air. A stiff breeze blew grey clouds across an overcast sky, threatening rain or snow, and annoyingly sent her hair across her face. Julia brushed it back impatiently, then held her sandwich in one hand and dipped the other into a pocket of her robes where the cracked stone lay, running her thumb over the now familiar jagged edge. She knew it was important somehow; it carried the same symbol as that damn frame in the sub-basement, but she'd tried every activation phrase she could find, and nothing. She'd also scoured what books on symbols she could with the little spare time she had, but came up empty. Julia followed quietly as Ginny and Hermione chatted about Hogsmeade, and heard Ron Weasley's name, falling into step next to them to better hear.
"So, all three of them will be together this weekend," she thought.
When they arrived at the greenhouses, they checked the fourth one first, the extra one Neville had co-opted to grow their requested magical flora in. As soon as they crossed the threshold into the warm, moist air though, Ginny thrust a hand out to stop Hermione. The sound of a gardening hoe tilling moist soil reached Bellatrix's ears and she looked to the far end of the greenhouse to see Neville Longbottom, stripped to the waist, a sheen of sweat on his muscled skin, working the neat rows and preparing them for planting.
"Shh," Ginny said as Hermione started to speak.
"Ginny, it's just Neville," Hermione whispered.
"Yeah, I know," Ginny said as she continued to stare. Bellatrix didn't blame her; Longbottom was in rare form, muscles flush and glistening with the effort of working the soil in the warm greenhouse.
"Are you mental, what about Harry?" Hermione whispered.
"Just because you're full doesn't mean you can't appreciate the view of a perfectly baked beef pie," Ginny replied.
"She's got you there, Granger," Julia said, giving Ginny a no-look quidditch fist-bump without taking her eyes off the specimen before them.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, then grabbed the front of their robes and dragged them across the greenhouse.
"Hi Neville," Hermione said loudly, and Longbottom looked up, then stood up straight.
"Hermione, Ginny, Julia, I wasn't expecting visitors," he said.
He leaned the silver-bladed hoe against a shelf and turned around to pull on a t-shirt. Now they were closer, Bellatrix could see thin white scars crisscrossing the skin of his back before the grey cloth slid over them, hiding them once again.
"Was I responsible for any of those?" she thought. She wasn't sure how she felt about the answer.
"Small change of plans, we need to switch some of the plants we're growing for spring," Hermione said, "the dittany, baneberry, and bloodroot are out, and we need to replace them with belladonna, niffler's fancy, shrivelfig, and perhaps a few others as well."
"Alright, shouldn't be too difficult," Neville said, furrowing his brow, "the niffler's fancy and shrivelfig should be ready by late winter, and the nightshade by early spring."
Hermione smiled.
"Thanks Neville, are you alright? I heard about you and Parks," she asked.
"Oh, yeah," Neville said, running a hand through his hair, "it just wasn't working out, you know?"
"If there's anything we can do…" Ginny said.
"Thanks, but I'm fine," Neville said with a forced smile, "or rather, will be fine. Just need to work through it is all."
Ginny nodded.
"I've got to get to the pitch, make sure everything's set for practise after class tonight," Ginny said, "see you there Julia. Feel better Neville."
They said their goodbyes and Ginny departed for the quidditch pitch.
"The seeds are just there," Neville said, pointing to a few boxes on the shelf, "we can plant them now; it'll go faster with three of us."
Hermione agreed and Julia quickly followed. They shed their outer robes and got to work, pushing bulbs and seeds into the warm, tilled earth. Bellatrix found something soothing and therapeutic about the repetitive working of soil, taking action that would result in new life, and at the end, looking up to see a completed row of planted seeds, ready to push up through the dark soil above them and into the light.
"Hermione might not see these plants come to harvest, if you kill her first," Bellatrix thought, and she shoved the sentiment away.
"I HAVE to do this," she thought, "for the life and love that was stolen from me. It's only right. MY right."
"Julia, are you alright?" Neville asked.
"Hmm?" Julia asked.
"You look… worried," he said.
Julia frowned.
"I just hope this plan works," she said.
"Don't worry Julia," Hermione said, sounding almost like she was trying to convince herself, "the theory is sound, we just need to find the right combination of ingredients and method of putting them together."
Julia nodded, her train of thought thoroughly derailed.
"I've got Transfiguration, and I need to clean up first," she said, standing up and wiping her hands, "thanks for everything Neville, hope you feel better."
Neville looked like he was about to say something but then merely nodded and waved as Julia departed for the castle.
The following evening, Bellatrix sat in Winthrop's optional extra class along with the other volunteers. They'd been discussing the nature of artefacts, especially Dark artefacts, and Winthrop was as charismatic and passionate about the subject as ever, seemingly effortlessly drawing the class in and coaxing out their thoughts and reasoning. About three quarters of the way through the lesson, the professor stood up, walked to the cabinet, unlocked it, and produced a small ivory and gold music box with an old-fashioned iron turn crank in one side. He placed the box carefully on the large table at the front of the class.
"Does anyone know what this is?" Winthrop asked.
"Is it… does it put you to sleep?" Hermione asked.
Winthrop gave her an odd look.
"Very good Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor," he said, "yes, the melody produced by this music box has an enchantment on it which will put any who hear it to sleep, eventually, from which they can usually only be woken by magical means, and only if the music is no longer playing. It is categorised as a class three Dark artefact by the Ministry, due to its potential for abuse. After all, it would be relatively simple to take advantage of a number of people who are sleeping and would not wake."
He looked down at the box, hand drifting over to the crank, but not touching it.
"Can anyone think of a good use for this?" he asked, "Miss Parks?"
She put her hand down as Winthrop called on her.
"If a surgery needed to be performed on someone, or if they were in pain somehow, this would ease their suffering," the Gryffindor prefect said.
Winthrop nodded and the girl smiled up at him, twisting a lock of her dirty blonde hair about a finger.
"Exactly, while some Dark artefacts can only be used for evil or destruction, most are tools, created for a purpose, often to be used in a ritual of some kind. True, some of them were simply torture devices or traps, but most were tools. Like any weapon or tool, when in the wrong hands, they can be used for nefarious purpose," Winthrop said, "and this is why the vast majority of dark artefacts are banned from sale, and the creation or even possession of them can result in serious penalties, or even incarceration. Fortunately for me and the school, this one is licensed."
A few chuckles bounced around the room.
The professor drew his wand from a pocket of his robes and placed it next to the music box.
"A powerful tool, when in the wrong hands, can be used to wreak havoc on an almost unimaginable scale," he said, gesturing to the wand on the table, "should we be denied these then? With just a wand, a powerful Dark wizard could do more damage than almost any artefact known. In the end, a wand is a tool, and reflects the will of its wielder, and I submit the same is true for most Dark artefacts. Your assignment is this: research an item classified as a Dark artefact, come up with a positive use for it, and determine how the artefact might be regulated by the Ministry to ensure its safe use. Extra points for more dangerous or rare items. Submit your items to me for approval before you begin and we'll share our findings with each other before winter break."
Bellatrix finished scribbling down the assignment, rolled the parchment quickly and slid it into her bag. She already had several likely candidates off the top of her head and looked forward to the other students' findings, and Winthrop's thoughts. Dark artefacts always interested her and she held out hope at least one or two of her classmates would come up with something she'd never heard of before. At the very least, Winthrop always had a unique angle or tidbit of information to share.
The following Sunday, Bellatrix woke early and dressed quietly, so as not to wake the other two. Today, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were scheduled to visit Hogsmeade. Today could be her chance to erase all three of the Golden Trio in one single stroke. Nervousness tightened her stomach; six months of planning had led to this, but she didn't feel ready. Nevertheless, twenty minutes later, she emerged from the castle into the grey and overcast chilly November with the first group of students, but broke off in the courtyard, disillusioning herself and settling in to wait for Hermione and Ginny to depart.
"Potter will be there," she thought as she found a comfortable spot between two pillars, "Potter, who slew a basilisk alone at the age of twelve, won the tri-wizard tournament at fourteen. Duelled the Dark Lord and won."
Bellatrix tightened her grip on her wand. Her stolen wand. What she wouldn't give to have her old wand back, but she'd no idea where it was.
"I can't hit Potter with any direct spells, the others would be on me in an instant, not to mention any of his allies who happen to be nearby," she thought, "I'll have to defeat all three of them at once, before they can draw their wands to fight back or apparate."
Her stomach felt like one gigantic knot and every passing second only made it worse; she actually felt nauseous and her breakfast threatened to make a return appearance on more than one occasion as she waited. It seemed like hours before she spotted Granger, Weasley, and Neville Longbottom walking out of the front gates. She recast her disillusionment and silencing spells and tailed them all the way to town, staying well far enough back she wouldn't be detected. Once they were in Hogsmeade proper it became more difficult as she had to dodge around students and villagers who couldn't see or hear her.
"At least it's not snowing," she thought. Snow would make it that much harder to move about undetected.
When her quarry entered the Three Broomsticks, Bellatrix cursed to herself. One glance through a foggy window and her fears were confirmed; the inside was far too crowded for her to enter and move about invisibly. Coming to a decision, she stepped to the side of the building, dropped her spells, then circled around to enter the front door.
Dozens of students sat or stood around the taproom chatting and drinking while Madam Rosmerta flitted about the room, serving beverages and nibbles. The bar kept itself occupied, magically dispensing butterbeer from barrels into empty mugs as needed and requested. Enough students filled the room so Julia couldn't see the far wall at all, and the warm air immediately began driving away the chill from her long wait and walk down from the castle. Bellatrix glanced around as she cruised about, searching for Hermione's distinctive hair, trying not to let the cacophony of dozens of relaxing students aggravate her already frayed nerves. Instead of Hermione, she spied Ron Weasley's ginger locks sticking out above the top of a booth, near the back. Bellatrix reversed direction and circumnavigated the bar again, ducking around and between students and drinks until she had line of sight directly at the table from about twenty feet away.
"There they are! All three of them, sitting together!" she thought in triumph and trepidation.
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione sat no more than ten paces away, with Ginny and Neville. Bellatrix flicked her wrist, dropping her wand from the duelling holster into her hand. She had the element of surprise; none of them had their wands out.
Bellatrix casually leaned against the bar, against the back of one of the barrels.
"An expulso or a confringo should do it," she thought, "Maybe both, one followed up by the other. Then fiendfyre before anyone can help them if they somehow manage to survive. Fuck the town."
Ron said something and the group smiled and laughed. Ginny had her hand on Harry's leg beneath the table and Bellatrix watched as he placed his hand on top of hers. Disgusting.
"But what if Potter senses or survives the attack somehow?" she thought, "I'll have to flee, and I'll never get another chance like this."
Her wand hand quivered as a student passed between her and the table, obscuring her view for a few seconds.
"If you don't strike now, you might never see the three of them together again," she thought, trying to goad herself into action, "it's been three months already and this is the first time they've been together since September, on platform 9 ¾, and that was the first time they'd been together since May!"
Bellatrix bit her lip to try and bring focus back to the whole reason she was here, putting up with going through seventh year again, befriending a filthy mudblood and a blood traitor, playing nice for everyone…
"He took your one true love away from you, Bella!" Bellatrix thought to herself, staring at the messy haired bespectacled young man, attempting to bolster her resolve.
"Do it, raise your arm," she thought, as the Enemy turned away from her to hold Ginny's gaze for a moment, "cast the spell!"
She stared at Hermione, smiling up at the freckled redhead seated next to her before making some comment to Harry and Ginny.
"Filthy mudblood!" she screamed to herself, but her wand arm remained stubbornly by her side even as she clenched her jaw at how perfect Hermione's teeth were.
"Do it now, Now, NOW!" Bellatrix thought.
She started to raise her arm, just a few inches, but Neville picked that exact moment to cast his gaze about the room and caught hers. He waved to her almost frantically.
"Julia!" he said, calling her over.
She blinked, then stiffly walked over to the table, slipping her wand up her sleeve and back into her duelling holster.
"Hi," she said.
"Won't you sit down Julia? Can I get you anything to drink?" Neville asked, "Everyone, this is Julia White."
Julia looked at the empty spot next to Harry Potter, the Enemy, and slowly slid into the seat next to him, ignoring the wizard for a moment as she stared at Neville directly across the table.
"Oh Merlin, if I'm found out now, I'm well and truly fucked," she thought.
"Yes please, Neville, something strong," Julia said.
She turned and alternated looking at Harry and Ron, who sat across from Ginny; both of them stared back at her curiously. The knots in her stomach now had knots as she looked into Potter's brilliant emerald eyes; the pictures really didn't do them justice. Julia practiced occlumency for all she was worth as she met their gazes.
"White, Julia White," Julia said as Neville raised his hand to get Rosmerta's attention.
"Weasley, Ron Weasley," Ron said.
"Just Harry is fine," Harry said with a smile, "so you're the transfer student I've heard so much about."
"Oh?" Julia said, her voice abnormally high, "and umm… what have you… what have you heard?"
"That you're helping Hermione with her project," Harry said, smiling, no doubt to lull her into a false sense of security, "all good things."
The Boy-Who-Lived furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he looked at her again, intently, searching, even as she kept her occlumency up as high as she could.
"Who knows what he is capable of…" Bellatrix thought.
"Not just that," Neville said, "she's tutoring duelling for one of the students who was being bullied, and she's on the quidditch team too."
"Alternate chaser," Ginny said.
Ron made a small laugh.
"Anything you're not good at?" he asked.
"Umm, respecting incompetent authority figures," Julia said.
Hermione laughed just as she took a sip, and covered her nose with her hand, almost preventing the sweet liquid from leaking onto the table. That earned a round of chuckles from everyone.
"Hope you're not talking about me," Ginny said, leaning over to look at Julia around Harry.
"I said incompetent, you actually know what you're doing," Julia replied. Ginny smiled at that but didn't have a response.
"We trounced Slytherin in the first match of the year," Neville said, "it was a massacre."
"You didn't say anything," Harry said, turning to Ginny.
"I wanted to tell you in person," Ginny said. The two of them leaned closer together, and apparently only had eyes for each other, sharing some silent communication as the conversation around the rest of the table stalled.
"Uhh, Harry, I heard you were in St. Mungo's after duelling Avery," Neville said, "what actually happened, are you okay?"
Harry looked back to Neville and had the good sense to look a bit embarrassed for ignoring the entire group.
"Sorry… Yeah, I'm okay. I don't really want to talk about it, honestly. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience… no offense Neville," Harry said.
"No no, it's alright," Neville said.
Harry looked to Hermione.
"How is it, being back at Hogwarts?" he asked, changing the subject, "How's the project, is there anything we can do to help?"
Bellatrix's firewhiskey arrived then, floating over the crowd and settling neatly down in front of her, and they all raised their glasses.
"To Hermione's success," Harry said, and everyone followed suit.
The liquid burned Bellatrix's throat but she desperately needed it to take the edge off; she felt about two seconds away from snapping like a frayed rope with too much weight tied to it. Hermione launched into a breakdown of the various methods they planned to use to narrow down the type of brew and ingredients they would need, leaving out many of the finer details. Still, even with the simplified explanation, Bellatrix noted Ron's eyes glaze over almost immediately.
"This is one of the defeaters of the Dark Lord?" she thought, "Honestly, he could at least try to look interested."
Hermione didn't appear to notice, engrossed in her explanation as she was.
"Same old Hermione," Harry said with a grin.
"Oh, sorry," Hermione said, shoulders slumping slightly, the wind gone out of her sails, "it's going well, as well as can be expected, at least."
Bellatrix felt something of a twitch in her chest at that. Looking at the resigned, slightly frustrated expression on Hermione's face, she guessed this type of dismissal was something that happened often.
"Oh!" Ron said, interrupting her train of thought and nearly spilling his butterbeer, "I almost forgot to tell you, we went clubbing, in muggle London."
"You went clubbing," Hermione repeated, a somewhat incredulous expression on her face, "in muggle London. How in the world? Why?"
"The other trainees took us out as a sort of celebration, after Halloween," Harry said.
"Yeah, it was bloody brilliant," Ron added.
Hermione's mouth opened, slightly chagrined.
"What exactly was so brilliant about the nightclub, Ronald, do tell," Hermione said.
Ron squirmed a bit at Hermione's tone, but forged ahead anyway.
"Bloody Gryffindor," Bellatrix thought.
"Well, they had really loud music, and this smoke that poured out near the stage, but not the choking kind, and these really thin lights in different colours-" he said.
"Lasers," Harry chipped in.
"Yeah, and dancing and drinks. It was loads of fun; I think you'd enjoy it," Ron said.
"Pathetic blood-traitor, there's no way I'd be caught dead mingling with diseased, uncivilised muggles, much less boasting about it," Bellatrix thought.
Ginny looked vaguely interested and appeared to be carrying on another silent conversation with Harry, but Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
"You know what I'm up against, Ronald," she said, "why in Merlin's name would you think I'd waste an entire night getting drunk and dancing in muggle London?"
Ron shrugged.
"You need to take a break sometime, come at it fresh maybe?" Ron said, "anyway I just thought if you wanted to do something muggle sometime, that's okay too."
He took a long swig and looked over to Harry.
"What do you think, Harry?" he asked.
Harry looked back at Ron, then to Hermione, then back at Ron.
"No comment," Harry replied with the easy smile of someone who faced down tenacious reporters on a regular basis.
He took another sip of butterbeer as Ginny chuckled next to him.
Ron huffed.
"Look Hermione, I just thought it was a good idea to do something muggle together so… you know you don't have to give it all up," Ron said.
That gave Hermione pause, and she looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Is that what this is about?" Hermione asked, "Ron, we don't need to do anything like that; I'm not worried about giving up muggle life, and besides, I think we'll be able to go into muggle London from time to time if we want to, no problem."
He perked up at that.
"You think so?" he asked.
"Sure," Hermione said, "once the project is done. Perhaps not a nightclub though."
Ron smiled and gave Hermione a peck on the lips then. Neville squirmed next to them somewhat uncomfortably, but to Bellatrix, the affection seemed completely out of character for the Hermione she knew.
"Why in Merlin's name is she dating this idiot?" Bellatrix thought, then a half-second later, "and why in Merlin's name do I even care? I'm supposed to be killing all of them right now!"
Bellatrix tossed her firewhiskey back in one gulp and looked down into the empty glass, then glanced back up at Hermione again, who still smiled at Ron Weasley, talking about something or other; Bellatrix couldn't hear over the buzz in her ears.
"You royally cocked this up," she thought, "the Dark Lord would be so disappointed. You had your chance to kill them, and instead you're thinking about stupid schoolgirl drama. Dirty blooded whore probably stole her magic from us, and we would be even more powerful if not for her and her kind, and here you are, sharing drinks and a table with her. She has to go, the whole lot of them need to be exterminated like the vermin they are!"
She thought the words, but deep down she knew she was not being completely true to herself. Aside from her apprehension at ambushing and possibly duelling the wizard who'd defeated the Dark Lord, all the shadowing and chasing after and fighting alongside and spending hours upon hours with Hermione Granger had done something to her, and that was at least part of why she'd hesitated. She actually enjoyed spending time with her.
"Did I accidentally break myself?" she thought.
"Julia, are you alright?" Neville asked quietly.
Julia looked up at Neville and nodded once.
"-still think you would have a good time," Ron said.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but it was more of a resigned gesture this time.
"Alright Ron, I'll… think about it," Hermione said.
"Brilliant, now that's settled, Ginny and I are going to go for a bit of a walk around town, we'll see you all later," Harry said, dropping several sickles on the table, "pleasure meeting you Julia."
Julia stood up to make way for them.
"Pleasure was all mine," she lied.
"Ron and I are going to make a move as well," Hermione said, "I'll see you in the lab later, Julia."
"See you, Hermione. Weasley," Julia said.
"White, nice to meet you," Ron said. Both he and Harry waved to her as they departed.
"Practise tomorrow Julia, don't forget," Ginny said, taking Harry's hand, and Julia nodded, then watched as the quartet put their backs to her and left.
"Yeah, that was Harry Potter," Neville said from beside her, already having sat down again.
"Shorter than I expected," Julia said, sitting down across from him.
"Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit tense," Neville said.
"That was my chance, and I fucked it up," Bellatrix thought, "I couldn't do it. What's wrong with me?"
"Just umm, a little in shock I suppose," she replied.
Neville nodded.
"Once you get past the great wizard and hero of our age thing, he really is a normal bloke," Neville said, "a good friend you know, once you get to know him, I mean."
Julia nodded. Although Neville had tripped up his words a bit, she understood what he was trying to say, even if she didn't believe a word of it.
"I'm really glad you showed up, by the way, it was getting more awkward by the second," Neville said with a small chuckle, "I mean, when we were all in school it was just Harry and Ginny, and that was only sixth year, but now Ron and Hermione are together too and it was very much starting to feel like 'odd man out'."
"What happened with Parks, anyway?" Julia asked.
Neville looked at her, clearly weighing what he wanted to say, or how much to say.
"She's… she's lovely, don't get me wrong, just… she has a bit of a thing for… someone who wasn't me, and it got a bit uncomfortable hearing about him all the time," Neville said, "so I said good luck and that was that."
"Rude," Julia said, without explanation.
Neville nodded still with a bit of a glum look on his face.
"You're better off," Julia said, "you don't want to be with a twat who obviously can't even pretend to not be interested in someone else while she's dating you."
He looked almost insulted at that but simply nodded.
"So… Julia, any chance you and I…?" he asked.
Julia shook her head.
"Sorry Longbottom," she said, "don't get me wrong, you've got a lot going for you, but I'm more or less spoken for."
"Plus that would definitely be an awkward conversation one day, 'remember when I tortured your parents into insanity? Because I don't,'" Bellatrix thought.
"Oh, betrothed?" Neville asked.
"Something like that," Julia replied.
Neville nodded. He looked disappointed but did his best to put forward a stiff upper lip.
"Alright then, thanks for being honest," he said.
"Of course," Julia said, internally revelling in the irony that her entire life was a lie, "fancy another drink?"
"What in the fuck are you doing? Ditch him and go get your head straightened," Bellatrix thought.
Neville nodded. They ordered another round and talked about quidditch and herbology before Bellatrix managed to make an excuse and depart. On the way back to the castle, well before almost all the other students, her thoughts and emotions danced a discordant waltz around the ballroom of her alcohol buzzed mind.
"The Dark Lord is waiting for me, counting on me to bring him back again," she thought, "he's the most powerful wizard I've ever met, confident in the hallowedness of the pure, the would-be saviour of our way of life, and he favoured me above all others, even more than Father or Uncle."
Bellatrix wandered the deserted corridors, wand out, ruminating on her predicament.
"But I failed to strike when the opportunity presented itself. What am I even doing here?" she thought, "if I had another chance, another five chances, would they turn out any differently?"
Her thoughts turned to Hermione.
"Then there's the girl I've committed to help discover a cure for one of the worst afflictions affecting witches and wizards," she thought, "under false pretences, sure, but we're actually making progress."
Bellatrix sighed in frustration and ground her fingers through her glamoured hair, pressing painfully into her scalp.
"She's clever, perhaps even more clever than me, and that's saying something," she thought, "Plus anyone who can push themselves hard enough to end up passing out for two days has determination in spades."
"She's selfless, too, wants to help others and not be a burden to anyone," Bellatrix thought, "why am I thinking so much about this?"
"It's because you've spent hours, days, getting into her head, and then alone with her," she thought, "the stupid mudblood's grown on you."
Bellatrix pushed into an empty classroom and sat down on the dusty professor's desk at the head of the class, thumping her heel into one of the wooden legs as she swung it back and forth.
It would be one thing if she were annoying or incompetent, but she was intelligent, quick-witted, possessed of dogged determination and wicked sense of humour, much like Bellatrix herself. If circumstances and her heritage had been different, they'd be allies, maybe even actual friends.
"Am I betraying the Dark Lord by even having these thoughts?" she thought.
Suddenly the room felt too constricting and she pushed back out into the hallway to roam the nearly empty school, eventually climbing steps to the 7th floor. She tried to recall Lord Voldemort's expressions, the sound of his voice, the aura of power he radiated. The gaze of the Dark Lord's deep brown eyes could almost pierce her soul, but now, so many months removed from the last time she'd seen him, her memories had started to fade, even as she desperately clung to them at night, in the privacy of her bed. Tears filled her eyes as she wandered, but she refused to let them fall.
"Would he think less of me for my hesitation and inability to strike?" she thought, "I feel like I'm losing him, is this what falling out of love feels like?"
She found herself in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls, opposite the blank section of wall she knew led to the Room of Requirement.
"I need a place to let off steam, I need a place to let off steam," she thought as she paced back and forth.
On her fourth time past the wall, a wooden door appeared and Bellatrix flung it open, ducked inside, and quickly closed it behind her.
To her left, the Room had created a practice arena with multiple wooden dummies to aim at, and to her right, a steaming bath on dragon claw legs, complete with scented oils, full length mirror, and a crackling hearth in front of a comfortable reclining chair. A thick blanket to ward off the chill of the stone castle lay draped across the back of the chair. She only hesitated for a moment before striding over to the target range. She would practise. She would practise and practise so next time an opportunity arose, she wouldn't hesitate.
"Expulso!" she shouted, thrusting her wand forward, and the full powered jet of blue light shot out, following the momentum of her movement and impacting a dummy, blasting it to pieces.
"That should have been Potter!" her mind screamed at her.
Bellatrix shifted her stance slightly and flowed neatly into the next spell.
"Confringo!" she said, and a blast of fiery orange flames blew apart another dummy.
"That should have been Weasley!" she thought.
Bellatrix spun into the starting position to cast fiendfyre but checked herself. Who knew if the room would be able to contain it if she lost control? A vision of Hermione unconscious and bleeding out amid the shattered table and wall of the Three Broomsticks came to her, and her stomach felt queasy at the thought of her blood pumping out onto the ground, muddy though it might be. She growled away her weakness and blasted another dummy to pieces with a silent reductor curse. Bellatrix continued like that, pulverising wooden dummies by twos and threes until her wand arm ached and her voice became hoarse. Round and round her thoughts went as she circled about the practice arena, from Lord Voldemort, to Hermione, to Potter and Weasley, until she couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Panting and near exhaustion, she banished one last dummy to smash against the wall, then trudged over to the bath, wand arm limp with fatigue. She tested the water with two fingers and found it scalding, just as she liked it. She quickly stripped nude and stepped in, relishing the shock of the almost too hot water as it spread over her skin, soothing her tired muscles. Bellatrix grabbed the scented oil nearest to her and, not even bothering to read the label, unstoppered it and poured the contents into the bath.
"Honey and lavender, acceptable," she thought.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting the bath work its magic as she breathed in the scented steam.
"Fuck it all," she thought.
Slowly, a realization came over her as her muscles untensed. Somewhere between learning her schedule, her likes and dislikes, and her history, she'd ended up becoming friends with the little mudblood, as ludicrous as the idea sounded. But…
"What if Hermione isn't actually a mudblood?" she thought as her eyes snapped open, "that would explain why she can keep up with me. And why I don't particularly want to kill her. Maybe today's screw up is my subconscious' way of letting me know."
"If Potter and Weasley died, that could drive Hermione even closer to me. I, we, could figure out the truth of her heritage; if she wasn't a mudblood, the Dark Lord might be forgiving, if I ask it of him. Yes, that will do," she thought, "that will do. I need to find a way to kill them and not bring blame on myself…"
An hour later, her mind still spinning but less so than before, she stepped out of the bath, dried herself with her wand, put her clothing and robes back on, and returned to the Great Hall for dinner. She ate mechanically, then trudged to her room in Gryffindor Tower. With the others still out, the deserted common room and dorm seemed unnaturally quiet, and she reckoned it would be for some time. She pulled off her boots and picked up the silk pouch from her trunk, sat on her bed, pulled the curtains closed, and set up wards as a precaution. Bellatrix slid to the centre of the bed and pulled her feet in to cross her legs. Reaching into the pouch, she rummaged around a bit and eventually pulled out a dark leather-bound book.
"Véritable amour," she said, unlocking the protection which would cause the book to be blank to anyone else attempting to read it. She flipped past a few pages, notes she'd written as she studied up on the history of the past thirty years. Eventually she came to a cover page of the Daily Prophet – 'Mass Breakout from Azkaban'. Below that, a picture of herself, older, in chains, screaming at anything and everyone. She ran a finger over the photo, still disturbed by how broken and deranged she looked. A few teardrop stains remained on the page from when Kreacher brought it to her the first time; she'd wept over what had happened to her. She'd suffered, oh how she'd suffered.
"I MUST bring the Dark Lord back, or everything I've already been through for him would be for nothing," she thought, "But can I convince him to let her live? Is there a way to make this work?" Still unresolved after nearly a full day of introspection, she eventually locked the notebook away again and fell into a fitful sleep.
The following evening, after classes, Bellatrix joined Ginny and the rest of the team on the quidditch pitch as the captain put them through their paces, running drills and researching Hufflepuff, their next opponent. The sun dipped low as they started and they practised in the chilly, late autumn air until it was too dark to see. Bellatrix showered quickly and waited for Ginny, as was now their habit. The two chasers made their way along the path back to the castle, their steps hard on the frozen dirt.
"How's the project coming along?" Ginny asked.
"Weren't you listening yesterday?" Julia asked, though it was obvious Ginny had had other things on her mind and hadn't paid attention at all. The redhead stayed silent and Julia sighed in frustration.
"Repairing the damaged memories was a dead-end, so we've settled on the rejuvenation path, mostly thanks to Hermione," Julia said, "she really is brilliant; I'm beginning to wonder if she's secretly half-blood or pureblood."
Ginny stopped, causing Julia to slow her steps and eventually turn to face the redhead, who by now was little more than a silhouette in the deepening darkness.
"Lumos, what's that supposed to mean?" Ginny asked, the tip of her wand lighting up her accusing stare.
Oops…
"You know," Julia said, trailing off and making a circular motion with her hand.
"No, I don't know," Ginny said, one hand moving to her hip, "care to explain?"
Julia huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes.
"Surely you've noticed, the muggleborns need to study twice as hard and practice twice as much to learn magic half as well as us," she said, realizing she was making a mistake even as she spoke, "it's not their fault; magic doesn't come to them as easily, but Hermione's not like that."
Ginny looked as if she'd smelled something distasteful.
"Only because we'd lived and breathed it for the first twelve years of our lives before coming to Hogwarts," she said, "they're playing catch-up the whole time. Hermione is more dedicated than anyone else, that's why she earns top marks."
"I did say she was brilliant," Julia mumbled.
"Yeah, for a…" Ginny said.
"Mudblood," Bellatrix thought.
"Muggleborn," Julia finished.
Ginny kept her mouth closed and frowned for a moment.
"Do you really think you're better than muggleborns?" she asked.
"We," Bellatrix thought, "WE are better than the mudbloods, all except Hermione. Why can't you see that?"
Julia frowned as well. She didn't want to annoy Ginny any more than she already had.
"Let me ask you a question: Why aren't there any muggleborns on the team?" Julia asked.
"That's different," Ginny said, "none of them even saw a broom before they arrived at Hogwarts, and everyone playing quidditch goes through training and drills every year… so they get even better."
"And yet, lo and behold, when the Quidditch Cup is on the line, you picked only purebloods and half-bloods," Julia said.
"It's not the same," Ginny said, "anyone can try out, and the best players earn their spot on the team. If everyone had the same amount of practise and experience over their life-"
"Without exception, none of them are muggleborn," Julia said, "not even the alternates, on all four teams. Results matter."
Ginny shook her head.
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation; you really think you're better than people because of who your parents were?" Ginny asked.
"Ooh, there's an opening," Bellatrix thought, seizing on the opportunity to turn the conversation in her favour.
"I-…" Julia said, putting on a hurt expression.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry," Ginny said, shock and realization crossing her face before she covered her mouth.
Bellatrix shook her head, closed her eyes, sniffled and put up a hand, as if she were fighting back tears. Some of the struggle she'd been through the past day bubbled to the surface and she squeezed her eyes to force a single drop out, warm as it slid down her cheek. She heard Ginny move closer and sigh softly next to her.
"I'm so sorry Julia, of all people, I should know better. I didn't mean-.." the redhead said.
"It's okay," Julia said, opening her eyes and dabbing at them with the end of her sleeve, "yesterday was a really rough day and today…"
She sniffled, cleared her throat, and blinked away the tears.
"Anyway, I'm not saying all purebloods are better than muggleborns," Julia said quietly, "I'm sure you know some purebloods that are about one backfired charm away from being classified as blithering idiots, Merlin knows I do. I just-"
Ginny stayed quiet and waited for Julia to compose herself. Perfect.
"I can't help what I see," Julia said, "and the muggleborns all have more difficulty with magic, from theory through practice. All except Hermione, that's why."
"And they're completely ignorant of what it means to be a witch or wizard, and they bring silly muggle notions with them, as if they somehow know better than we," she thought.
A slightly frustrated look crossed Ginny's features.
"It's because they've started behind. But if you really believe what you see, then see this," Ginny said quietly, taking a half-step forward, "all of the most powerful wizards of the past century were half-blood. Grindelwald, Dumbledore, T-.. Voldemort. If blood purity meant so much, they would have all been pureblood, or at least half of them, at least one of them."
"The Dark Lord is NOT half-blood, you putrid blood traitor!" Bellatrix's mind railed at her, but she kept quiet.
"I'll… think about that," Julia said.
Ginny nodded and kept walking, lighting the way with her wand, and Julia fell into step next to her.
"She can cast a patronus, you know," Ginny added softly, her tone even.
"I was there, Ginny, I saw it," Julia said, "And I told you already, it's not lack of magic that's stopping me."
She deliberately shoved her hands into the robes of her pocket and hunched her shoulders to drive her point home.
"Bloody patronus charm," Bellatrix thought.
They walked quietly for a few moments after that.
"Why are you helping Michaels if he's as hopeless as you say?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence.
"Because it earns me points with you and Hermione," Bellatrix thought.
"I'm good at duelling," Julia replied, "and… just doing what Winthrop said, I guess. Perhaps Michaels will return the favour someday, and it is a challenge."
"Merlin, is it a challenge..." she added with a mutter.
Ginny let out a half-chuckle at that. They walked for a few more moments in silence again, Ginny's wand lighting the way.
"Harry Potter's half-blood," Julia said as the castle loomed large ahead of them, "and he defeated…"
"The Dark Lord," Bellatrix thought.
"You-Know-Who," Julia said, "Is he powerful like Dumbledore?"
"You were with us yesterday, what do you think?" Ginny replied.
Julia made a 'pfft' sound.
"Come on, I met him for five minutes, but you're dating him," Julia said, "you never talk about him. What's he like?"
"He's not like he is in those silly children's stories, if that's what you're wondering," Ginny muttered, but didn't expand at all.
They arrived at the school, the first and second story windows lit with enchanted candles, casting golden light onto the grounds near the walls.
"Start me in the next match so I can have the trifecta: grades, duelling and quidditch?" Julia asked, trying to return to normalcy as they crossed the threshold into the school proper.
"Nox. Better get some extra practice in if you want to beat out one of my wingers," Ginny replied as she doused her wand, "and get another broom, I haven't forgotten."
Bellatrix grumbled for effect as they reached the grand staircase and Ginny started climbing. Honestly, she couldn't care less about quidditch, but it was something Ginny could relate to, so it was always a safe topic with her. The redhead turned around and looked down as Julia stopped at the foot of the steps.
"Coming?" she asked.
"I'm going to the lab to check on a brew. I'll probably end up spending the night there," Julia said, "are we… are we okay?"
Ginny sighed heavily.
"Yeah," Ginny said, somewhat reluctantly, "you're an odd duck Julia, but you're helping Hermione, and Michaels, so…"
"If you have the ability to help someone at only a little cost to yourself, it would be wrong to withhold that aid," Julia said, parroting Winthrop.
Ginny nodded.
"Just… think about what I said," Ginny said, "I know I'm not going to change your mind overnight but…"
"You mean I'm not going to change YOUR mind overnight," Julia said, grinning.
"I'll think it over," she added.
Ginny nodded.
"Keep an eye on her, make sure she gets enough rest?" Ginny asked.
Julia nodded.
"Of course," she replied.
They said their goodnights and Ginny turned her back to head up to Gryffindor Tower, while Bellatrix descended to the dungeons and into the potions lab she now more often than not shared with Hermione. She opened the door to find the bushy haired muggleborn wearing a pair of safety goggles, holding metal tongs, heating a glowing crucible over a jet of flame shooting upwards from a small dragon's head shaped stone resting on the lab table. Bellatrix observed Hermione for nearly a minute, wondering if there really was any pure blood running through the other girl's veins.
"Removing the moisture from the powdered dragon claw?" Julia asked.
Hermione nodded without responding.
"Any reason we're not using a charm?" Julia asked.
"It needs to be as pure as possible for the test. That means doing it the old-fashioned way to avoid any contaminating magic," Hermione said without looking away from the crucible, "there's another dragon's mouth over there and the satchel of dragon's claw is here."
She pointed to the closed jar on one of the other tables.
"When it's done evaporating, place it in the container there," Hermione said, pointing, "be careful not to overheat it, this was expensive."
Bellatrix picked up another set of tongs and a crucible, carefully depositing a small measure of powdered dragon claw into the receptacle. She stood at the far side of the table opposite Hermione and set up the dragon's mouth. After placing a pair of salamander eggs inside, she pressed the button on the stone and a flame sputtered at first until Bellatrix fiddled with the dial a bit, adjusting the fire until it spewed a steady pleasant golden orange. Then she carefully used the tongs to pick up the little ceramic container and hold it into the flames, relishing the satisfying whooshing sound as the bottom started to glow with the heat. As they were only able to dry small amounts at a time, it was slow going, and by the time she got to the third batch, sweat had already started to bead on her forehead. Bellatrix reached for her wand to cast a cooling charm but as she looked up, she saw Hermione and stopped, transfixed. The Golden Girl stared intently at her crucible to ensure uniform heating, hair as bushy as ever, but she had pushed her sleeves up in the heat, and for the first time, Julia understood why she always wore long sleeves. Carved into her forearm in angry red letters was the word 'BLOOD'. She'd seen cuts like that before, cuts that never healed properly… slices made with a cursed blade.
"Hermione," Julia whispered.
"Hmm?" Hermione said, following Julia's gaze, "oh bother."
She placed the crucible down on the table and started tugging her sleeve down.
"Wait," Julia said, pulling off her goggles and moving to Hermione's side. She gently lifted the girl's sleeve all the way up, watching her face for any signs of resistance, but Hermione didn't stop her, merely stared back with an apprehensive look. Julia glanced down.
'MUDBLOOD'
She looked back to Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, and the muggleborn had an unreadable expression on her face, almost wary, or worried. It was one thing to say all mudbloods were beneath them, or should be exterminated; it was quite another to witness clear evidence of torture on the body of someone she knew well, someone she respected.
"Please don't look at me like that," Hermione whispered.
Julia blinked.
"Who did this to you?" she whispered.
"It doesn't matter, she's dead," Hermione replied.
She.
"Just… who was it?" Julia asked.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were struggling with the answer.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Hermione replied as she opened her eyes again.
Julia shuddered and swallowed.
"I did this?" she thought.
"Why," she started, "why did she…"
Julia looked down at the angry red scars, a small smear of crimson marring the skin of Hermione's bicep where a drop or two of blood had recently wept from the wounds. They would never heal properly.
"You mean aside from the fact she was a deranged and sadistic psychotic bitch?" Hermione asked, "she wanted some information from me, and I wasn't telling, so…"
"I'm sorry," Julia said.
"Wasn't your fault," Hermione said, looking back to the crucible and tugging her sleeve down again.
Julia watched Hermione as she picked up the tongs again and focused on heating the powdered dragon's claw, but she ignored the gaze for nearly a minute until her wand vibrated on the table, giving Julia an excuse to say something.
"Time's up," Julia said, "lights out in fifteen."
Hermione nodded. She'd insisted on getting disciplined about sufficient sleep, and they were now on a strict schedule, giving themselves at least eight hours between lights out and first period. The two girls worked in silence, cleaning up the lab tables and packing away the remaining powdered dragon's claw, the recent revelation and exchange still heavy in the air. After using the public bathroom across the hall to wash up, they entered the tent set up on top of the lecturer's platform at the far end of the lab.
The inside of the tent was larger than the outside, of course, with a pair of bunk beds set up at one end, a small kitchen, a dining area with four wooden chairs, and a sitting room with a couch and coffee table. Designed to appear rustic, the chairs and beds were cosy and comfortable enough. Books of various sizes and thicknesses covered every inch of the kitchen table, some open and others with pages marked. They took turns changing, each turning her back while the other discarded her day clothes and slipped into comfortable pyjamas pulled from their respective expanded pouches.
"Night Julia," Hermione said, sliding between the sheets of the bottom bunk on the opposite side of the room.
"Night Hermione," Julia replied, setting an alarm charm and a ward, just in case, before placing her wand in a little hollow at the side of the bed. The lights dimmed and then extinguished themselves completely, leaving only a small shaft filtering through the front flap of the tent.
"Julia," Hermione whispered from the other side of the room, "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"It's okay, its…" Julia started, but she trailed off because she hadn't even come to terms with what the carved flesh meant to her yet.
"I just… I don't want people to know," Hermione whispered, "they might think I'm damaged, or something."
"I won't tell," Julia said.
"Thank you," Hermione said, "night Julia."
Sleep did not come for Bellatrix, and she lay awake in the bunk for over an hour as her mind churned, a whirling maelstrom bouncing thoughts off the inside of her skull. She pulled her pillow over her head, trying to shut out the echoes of voices vying for supremacy, those of her parents and the Dark Lord, hammering the superiority of her blood, and Ginny's and Winthrop's words, pushing for judgement by ability, and Hermione herself, the genius (probable) muggleborn who she'd just found out had been tortured by her own hand. She could almost actually hear Hermione's voice crying, and Bellatrix pulled the pillow down even tighter.
"No, please," Hermione said.
Hang on.
Bellatrix sat up and looked over to see Hermione tossing in the grips of some nightmare again. Quietly, she cancelled her wards and padded over to Hermione's bed, partially to make sure the mudblood didn't have her wand again; no need for a repeat of her first night at Hogwarts and have the tent burn down around them. Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it safely tucked in a cubby next to the bed.
"We found it, I swear," Hermione whispered, a pained expression on her face.
Bellatrix looked down at Hermione; even in the dim light, she could see sweat already staining the pillow and Hermione's purple pyjamas. Suddenly Hermione arched her back, mouth open in a silent scream, and her hand clenching and unclenching. Julia knelt down and, before she fully realized what she was doing, slipped her hand into Hermione's and gripped it tightly. Cold sweat slipped against her palm as Hermione gripped back, still stuck in her nightmare, which Bellatrix strongly suspected was reliving whatever torture she'd inflicted on her during the war. Hermione collapsed back onto the bed, panting, limbs trembling, while Julia shook her head.
"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered, "I'm sorry. Fuck."
For minutes she stayed like that, whispering comforting words to Hermione as she held and stroked the girl's hand. Slowly, Hermione settled into a peaceful sleep, but every time Bellatrix tried to withdraw her hand, Hermione gripped it tighter. So, Bellatrix twisted around to sit on the ground, leaning back against the bunk bed, eventually letting her head rest against the edge of the bunk and drifting off to the sound of Hermione's deep breathing.
"Julia?" Hermione said softly, waking her in the darkness some time later.
By the sting of her eyes it was still very early morning.
"Hmm?" Julia asked, craning her neck around to face Hermione, still half-asleep.
"What are you doing?" Hermione whispered, curiosity in her voice.
"Oh, umm," Julia said, extricating her hand from Hermione's and turning to face her, "you were having a nightmare and… well it seemed to help."
"Oh," Hermione said, "thanks. Sorry. That's a bit embarrassing."
She gave off a nervous chuckle and Bellatrix could practically feel the heat of Hermione's blush radiating off her cheeks. Whispering in the darkness, Bellatrix felt an unspoken confidence, like she could tell Hermione anything and be taken seriously and their secrets, shared within this tent at night, would never be spoken or even thought of in the outside world. Nobody would know, not her father, not the Dark Lord… nobody.
"It's not," Julia said, "clearly you were... traumatised."
"By me," she thought.
"Still, I won't tell anyone," Julia said, "but it's common, isn't it? To have nightmares after?"
"Yes, it is," Hermione said, twisting her pyjama shirt a little, "doesn't make it pleasant. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be normal again, like I was before."
Hermione stared up at the bottom of the bunk above hers and sighed.
"Say something, you moron," Bellatrix thought.
"Well, I didn't know you before, I only know you now, and you're pretty brilliant. And… and I'm glad we're… friends?" Julia whispered, apprehension leaking out despite how hard she tried to convince herself she didn't care what Hermione Granger thought of her.
Hermione looked back to her and nodded, smiling slightly, white teeth clearly visible in the darkness of the tent.
"Friends. Honestly, I'm thankful you transferred in this year Julia," she said, "and I appreciate your… help, tonight. Though next time you might just wake me up."
Bellatrix's brain stuttered. Idiot.
"Oh, right, wake you up," Julia said, feeling a bit foolish, "in my defence, I was half-asleep and I had no idea what was going on."
Hermione snickered.
"Still, thank you," Hermione said, growing serious again.
"You're welcome," Julia said as she picked herself up off the floor and returned to her bunk, yawning as she slipped beneath the covers again.
"See you tomorrow," she whispered.
"Night Julia," Hermione said.
The following morning, they didn't speak of the previous night's events, and the week passed more or less routinely for Bellatrix, breezing through classes, writing essays on material she'd already covered the year before, and spending time with Hermione in the lab, methodically narrowing down the possibilities they'd outlined. Deep down, Bellatrix knew she was stalling for time. She didn't really have a plan aside from "figure out a way to kill Potter and Weasley and not get caught", so she went through the motions of her fake life, one class, one day at a time. As she descended the steps on her way to the Great Hall for lunch, she idly fingered and flipped the jagged stone as she wondered whether Hermione or Ginny would be there today. After seeing the scars, Bellatrix knew exactly what she was going to give Hermione for Christmas. How odd life was. What would Father say if he knew she'd become friends with a (possible) mudblood?
"You murdering bitch!"
Bellatrix tripped and fell four steps onto the next landing, slamming her elbow fairly hard on the stone, but she flicked her wrist and snapped her wand into her hand, rolling over and pointing it back up the steps at some poor third year Hufflepuff who practically dove out of the way. Wild-eyed, she scanned for the source of the voice, her father's voice, but only students' concerned stares greeted her over the tip of her wand.
"What the fuck?" she whispered, still lying on her back.
"White? Are you okay?" asked some Gryffindor girl whose name she hadn't bothered to learn.
Bellatrix turned and pointed her wand at the girl, who flinched away.
"The stone! You were fiddling around with the stone!" Bellatrix thought.
She sprang to her feet, felt inside her pocket to make sure the stone was still there, gathered her fallen books, and sprinted up the stairs. She didn't stop running until she reached the 7th floor corridor. She paced back and forth in front of the blank section of wall, heart racing from her exertions and her discovery.
"I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide," she thought.
When the door appeared, she pushed through and slammed it shut behind her, locking it with a loud clunk of rolling tumblers. Bellatrix turned around to find what appeared to be a basement or dungeon with magical torches lining the walls, the orange and yellow flames casting eerie shadows. A wooden table and chair sat in front of a hearth, and a small bed sat in the corner. The room wasn't very large, but it was sufficient for her purpose. She took five steps to the table and pulled the stone from her pocket.
"I want to talk to my father," she thought, looking at the dark stone resting in the palm of her hand, "I want to talk to my father."
Nothing happened, and she tried a few more times, with the same result. What had she done differently? She ran her fingers over the familiar grooves and edges of the cracked stone… she'd been flipping it over. Bellatrix turned the stone in her hand a few times.
"I should have killed you."
"Father," Bellatrix said, looking up to see the image of her father Cygnus Black the third, standing near the bed. More substantial than the ghosts of Hogwarts, but definitely not human, his dark hair was combed back in the style he typically wore in life, and his pressed dress robe was easily visible down to the smallest detail. His eyebrows formed a single line as they came together in an expression of pure hatred as he looked down at her. Bellatrix instinctively shrank back a half-step, then tightened her grip on her wand and forced herself to stand her ground.
"Your own daughter? Why?" Bellatrix asked.
"Because you drugged me then slit my throat while I was sleeping! Ungrateful whore!" he said.
Bellatrix's eyes widened.
"I would never," she said, "Don't get me wrong, I hate you for what you did to me, but I would never kill you. Tojours pur, Father."
"Ha! Look," her father said, lifting his chin up and using his hands to open the gaping wound in his neck, "look upon what you wrought!"
"I did that? Why? Why would I do that?" Bellatrix asked.
Cygnus let his neck wound close again.
"I disagreed with the Dark Lord, told him open warfare would result in too much pure blood spilled, and I had my brother's ear. I should have known better, he sent my own daughter to kill me," Cygnus said.
"No," Bellatrix said, shaking her head.
"I set you up with an excellent match despite the madness consuming you, and this is how you repaid me, by whoring yourself out and killing your own father," he said, "I hope you burn to death, slowly."
Bellatrix tilted her head forward and looked through her eyelashes at the shade of her father.
"I'm not mad," Bellatrix whispered, "and if I sought comfort outside of marriage, it's because you set me up with the wrong man. I love the Dark Lord, and he loves me. He saved me from death, and now I will save him. It's destiny."
The ghostly figure of her father walked closer and studied her for a moment.
"Release me," he said, "I do not wish to look upon your face any more. Do not summon me again."
Bellatrix let the stone slip between her fingers to clatter onto the table and the image of her father vanished. She leaned forward and planted her palms on the table, forehead furrowed and breaths coming in shuddering gasps.
"I'm not crazy," she said, "I'm not."
"You're talking to yourself," she thought, "and your dead father."
"Shut up," she replied to herself.
After nearly a minute she stood up straight and picked up the stone again. Apprehensively, she thought of the wanted poster of her older self.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, I want to speak with Bellatrix Lestrange," she thought, turning the stone over in her palm. Nothing happened.
"Bellatrix Black?" she thought. Nothing.
Bellatrix heaved a sigh of relief.
"Mother, I wish to speak with Mother," she thought, turning the stone over again. The image of Druella Black faded into view, the lines on her face deeper and more numerous than Bellatrix remembered, her blonde hair pulled back in a French braid, and wearing one of the dark long-sleeved dresses she favoured in life.
"Bella," she said.
"Mother," Bellatrix said, going to hug the woman, but passing right through her instead. She stepped back and looked at her mother's face.
"You're so beautiful," Druella said, "pity you're such a complete and utter disappointment."
"What?" Bellatrix asked.
"I said you were a disappointment," Druella said, "out of all of my daughters you showed the most promise, but over ten years of marriage, you couldn't be bothered to produce a single child."
"I was married to Rodolphus Lestrange," Bellatrix said, as if that were an explanation.
"He's the heir of a noble and pure line, and it is your duty to continue his line and ours," Druella said, "at least Cissy had the sense to bear a child before I passed and bring me some small comfort."
"Mother," Bellatrix said, resolving to change the subject as a thought popped into her head, "there was a sub-basement below our cellar and vault, did you know of it?"
"Yes, of course," Druella replied.
Bellatrix's heart skipped a beat in anticipation.
"Down there, I found a dark metal frame with this symbol built into the top of it," Bellatrix said, holding up the stone, "do you know of it?"
"Yes, it's called the Aevum," Druella replied.
Bellatrix's eyes widened and she waited for her mother to continue.
"Well, what is it?" Bellatrix asked.
"I don't know," Druella replied, "it was brought from the Continent by my aunt just before I came of age, and given to my father. I only overheard bits of their conversation, what it was called, that it was important or dangerous somehow, and that he was to keep it secret. When he died, the Aevum passed to me, and I kept it in the sub-vault, hidden."
"The Aevum," Bellatrix muttered. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"What else do you know about it?" she asked.
"That's all I know, Bellatrix," Druella said.
Bellatrix looked down at the table for a moment.
"What about this symbol, do you know what this symbol is?" Bellatrix asked, holding up the stone again.
"Yes, that's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, from Tales of the Beedle Bard," Druella replied, "I read it to you and your sisters when you were young."
Bellatrix scoffed.
"The children's stor-" she started, but the next words died on her lips as she recalled some of the details of the tale of the three brothers, specifically of a stone that could allow someone to speak with the dead. She looked up at her mother's face again, wide-eyed, then down at the unassuming rock in the palm of her hand.
"The Resurrection Stone," she thought, "it's real? Could I talk to anyone? Wait wait, Mother is right in front of you."
"What is it like, Mother, on the other side of the Veil?" she asked.
"I… I'm not sure, I can't quite remember," Druella said, a peaceful, wistful expression crossing her face, "I only feel I should return. I don't like being here; I don't belong. It's not my place anymore. Let me go back, Bella, please?"
Bellatrix nodded.
"Goodbye Mother," she said, releasing the stone. The image of her mother vanished, and she fought the urge to pick up the stone and summon her back despite her harsh words. Her hand trembled as she turned the stone over again.
"Lord Voldemort, let me speak to the Dark Lord," she thought. Over and over she turned the stone, but when she opened her eyes, the space in front of her remained blank, "Tom Riddle Junior?"
Nothing.
"Damn, how does the stone work, will it only summon blood relations?" she thought, "Sirius Black, I want to speak to Sirius Black."
Nothing.
"Regulus Black," she thought.
She watched as the shade of a teenage boy, nearly a man, with thick locks of dark hair faded into view. He wore dark flowing robes with purple trim, much older and taller than the pre-Hogwarts boy she remembered. One look at his eyes though, and she knew it was her cousin who stood before her.
"Bellatrix," he said, gazing at her curiously.
"Reggie," she breathed, "you grew up."
"Almost, but not quite," he replied, "you're younger than I remember."
"I'm not sure how," Bellatrix said, suddenly recalling something Kreacher had alluded to, "do you remember how you died?"
"Yes, the Dark Lord killed me," he replied.
Bellatrix swallowed.
"Why?" she asked.
"I didn't like what we were doing, or what I'd become. I resolved to destroy the Dark Lord," he replied, "but he found out."
"You joined the Dark Lord then turned traitor? You deserved it then," Bellatrix said.
"Yes, I did. I swore an oath and I betrayed that oath, but I have no regrets," he said, "Bella, it's not too late for you."
Bellatrix snorted.
"Why would I turn my back on the Dark Lord? I love him, and I'm going to bring him back to life again so we can be together," Bellatrix said.
She dropped the stone just as Regulus raised his hands, probably to tell her not to, and he vanished before he could say another word.
Bellatrix picked up the stone again, turning it over and thinking as hard as she could.
"Lord Voldemort, please," she thought, but when she opened her eyes, his shade had not appeared. She sighed, eyes wet with frustration. She was so close! Bellatrix glanced around the barren room, once, twice… then she caught sight of an odd shaped shadow on the wall. Hope grew in her as she stepped closer; with the placement of the torches, the shadow should not have been there… the patch of darkness vaguely resembled the profile of a man.
"My Lord?" she whispered.
She strained her ears, barely hearing a sighing whisper in response.
"Yes Bella my dear, it is I," he replied.
Love bloomed in her chest at the sound of his voice, even as subdued as it was, and she unconsciously exhaled in rapture. She smiled as the dungeon suddenly became the most beautiful room in all the world, now that she and her love occupied it together. How could she ever have questioned the depth of her feelings? Tears of joy left tracks down her cheeks as she sniffled. The stupid mudblood was nothing but a distant memory next to even the shadow of her Lord. She would never waver again.
"My Lord, how I've longed to hear your voice," she said, her own voice quavering, "I…I have a plan to dispose of Potter, but I'm worried all might be for nothing if…. do you know of a way to bring you back from the other side?"
"Of course, my most loyal and capable Bella," the Shadow whispered, "forget the boy, I will deal with him personally, along with all those who have betrayed me."
"Yes my Lord," Bellatrix said, eyes wide as she basked in the presence of her love.
"Come, Bella dear, we have work to do," the Shadow whispered as it slithered towards the exit.
"Whatever it takes, my Lord," Bellatrix said.
"So long as we can be together again," she thought, faithfully following along in its wake, clutching the stone tightly as she slipped her fist into her pocket.