Chapter 51: The (Near) Death Experience, Part 2
Hermione's Patronus dashed from the island to find Harry moments after Rabastan Lestrange's head hit the ground several paces away from the rest of his body... and from Hermione's sneakers.
Unwilling to look at the outcome of her actions, Hermione too dashed away, towards the House. She needed to get the healing potions, and something with which to transport the injured witches inside.
Hermione knew Harry would come quickly, and not only because of their friendship.
Harry was on sick leave, for the second time in as many months. He blamed Voldemort's strongest for the deadly skirmishes. His superiors faulted bad luck. Even after Rookwood's capture, the Ministry advised restraint in jumping to conclusions.
Gawain Robards, Head Auror and Harry's boss, all but threatened the filing and support duties to calm Harry's nerves, after the possibility of mass survival of Azkaban's top floor prisoners was brought up at the morning meetings one time too many.
Now, a few days into his leave, Harry was mostly recovered, frustrated with powers-that-be, and eager to prove them wrong.
Hermione moved Narcissa and Bellatrix inside the house and healed most of Bellatrix's cuts. She couldn't do much for the broken limbs or the damage of multiple Crucios. She couldn't even do much for Bellatrix's blood loss. The 'first aid' shelf in potions lab had none of blood-replenishing potions left.
She eyed the fully stocked pepper-ups shelf and mused about possible benefits and dangers of giving those to the injured witches when the silver stag informed her of Harry's arrival.
Harry brought along a lime-robed wizard, as Hermione requested... and Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Hermione absolutely did not request.
She expected better from the former auror, and therefore held him doubly responsible for everything, and especially for the shameful Marriage Law and for her pile of rejected job applications.
Hermione wasn't keen on him having the front seat view into the disasters of her personal life..
The wizards were bent over the body laying halfway inside the circle.
'That is most definitely Rowle,' rumbled Kingsley.
'The most assuredly perished-in-Azkaban-collapse Rowle, sir?' Harry's voice had a snide undertone most often utilized in interactions with their late Potions Professor.
The healer looked up, studied Hermione for a few long moments... and with I was led to believe Miss Granger required help not some Death Eater apparated away.
'Mate!' exclaimed Harry at the empty air.
'Hm...' hummed the Minister.
And Thorfinn Rowle's body, which Harry dragged fully inside the apparition circle to remove from the island, came to life. Groggy, injured, but fueled by his rage, Rowle almost catapulted Harry, and the Minister, both still foreign to the island's wards, outside the safe zone.
That would have been a cherry on top mused Hermione as she held the Death Eater under Incarcerous while Harry and the Minister debated where to transport Rowle.
'Kingsley is sorting out the healer situation,' explained Harry when he reappeared without Rowle but also without the Minister.
'What is he doing here, Harry?!'
'He was at mine when your otter showed up, Mione. Came to discuss Rookwood's capture and my fixation on the Death Eaters… Fixation, my arse! That and Andromeda…'
'Andromeda? He knows she was here?!'
Just then Hermione remembered she had never said anything to Harry about that... planned to never say anything about that. Andromeda didn't wish it speculated about, and Hermione didn't need anyone's input either. Her approach to the situation wasn't entirely by DMLE book after all.
'What?!' Harry exclaimed, quite dramatically. 'Andromeda Tonks was-'
'Uhm... No?..'
Harry frowned at her worriedly.
'I don't want to know.' He eventually muttered. 'Kingsley… Rumors say the new amendments to the Law are coming… Ron thinks they might make the Minister's role conditional… on marital status… maybe other high up roles too… after Witch Weekly called attention to the irony, you know… Bagnold must be indifferent, she plans to go back into retirement... and she is quite older anyways.'
'Mr. Weasley?'
Harry shook his head.
'Arthur has been very tight lipped about the Ministry stuff. Ron's just speculating.'
'And the voting to confirm him is soon, right? Before the winter holidays.'
'Exactly…' Harry nodded. 'So... the message said people not person. Are there other bodies on the island?'
Hermione pursed her lips at Harry's needling. How was she to know that the wards didn't kill Rowle?!.. He looked dead.
Hermione filled Harry in while they waited for the Minister.
Kingsley returned with another healer, the lime-clad witch responsible for Bellatrix on the night of their Matching.
A quick ritual granted the newcomers temporarily access to the island.
Soon after the group looked at the detached head of the younger Lestrange brother .
'That is most definitely Rabastan Lestrange,' rumbled Kingsley unhappily.
'The most assuredly perished-in-Azkaban-collapse Rabastan Lestrange, sir?' Harry's voice had the same undertone as it had at the Minister's earlier observation.
'You made your point, Auror Potter.' The Minister drawled. 'Your assertions might have merit. Happy?'
'Might have, sir? Three are hardly a coincidence, sir!'
Hermione turned away and silently headed for the House. Harry's righteous indignation made sense. But her hands trembled and her vision was blurry again. She had no desire to stay that close to the man she killed.
The wizards hurried after her.
'The procedure,' Harry muttered uncomfortably at her questioning gaze. 'Have to verify your statements and evaluate healer's safety in Death Eater presence.' Hermione snorted. She didn't care. She didn't do anything wrong. Officially. And Bellatrix, despite the general assumption to the contrary, wasn't crazy enough to harm a healer. Hermione was fairly sure...
Both Harry and Kingsley kept shooting curious and surprised looks all the way to the second floor bedrooms. Hermione wondered what they expected to see. A dungeon?.. The miniature version of Malfoy Manor?.. Grimmauld-like place of despair?.. Voldemort's shrines?.. Muggle appliances?..
They stepped into the guest room where she put Bellatrix.
Hermione froze even as everyone else stepped around her to look closer at the prone witch on the bed.
Shallow slashes ran all over Bellatrix anew. Dark bruises and huge boils sat over the places of healed cuts.
'I swear I healed her' Hermione muttered.
'Ah ha!' Harry exclaimed, too victoriously for Hermione's liking. 'Look, sir! Just like Toodles! And Molier, last month!'
The Minister glared at Bellatrix as if she managed to spoil his day even more by just being there.
The swollen skin on Bellatrix's forehead tore, spitting a mix of black, green, red and yellow goo. Turning the face into an even more grotesque mask of sickness. Making everyone cringe at the awful smell of rot.
Even the healer looked a little queasy at that.
'Yes, Potter! You were right all along!' Kingsley stepped away from the bed. 'Those buggers somehow escaped rather than miraculously survived and had been engaging with the aurors for months!'
At the Minister's look, Harry followed him to the door.
'Wait! What happened to Toodles and... to the other one?'
'Well…' Harry had sense to look a little abashed.
'They died, Miss Granger. We'd never learned the spell or the counter. And approached the symptoms... incorrectly.' The healer stated. 'Don't worry, I suspect I know what we did wrong before.'
'You suspect…' Hermione repeated faintly as another slash appeared without any outside help on the dark witch's face.
The wizards wasted no time retreating from the room mumbling that Bellatrix was of no threat to anyone, and that their time would be better spent by documenting the place of battle, and removing Rabastan's body.
The healer ignored them as she set her satchel on the bedside table, and started to cast diagnostic spells.
'You want me to do WHAT?!'
Small healer knife dropped from Hermione's hand. It was sharp enough to slice through Hermione's jeans and nick her leg on its soft decent. The healer frowned, cast something and the blade shortened to almost nothing.
'Just in case...' she muttered softly to herself, and then louder for Hermione she repeated her initial instruction. 'You need to start reopening the cuts you healed.'
The knife was scourgify'ed and placed on the nightstand.
'With this knife?!'
The healer gave her a look.
'Madame Lestrange doesn't need any more magic in the mix. You do understand the spontaneous slashes we observe are manifestations of the still active curse, don't you?' The healer selected several vials from her bag and set them aside on the nightstand. 'Quite painful I reckon. By healing them you sealed the darkness inside. And it wants out.'
Hermione jumped as the bump on the limp hand exploded with wet pop as if agreeing with the healer.
'You don't understand!' There needed to be less sharp objects between her and Bellatrix, not more! If the cuts were magic... Hermione pointed her wand at the unconscious witch. 'Finite! Finite Incantatem!'
Another spontaneous slash appeared along the length of Bellatrix's left collarbone, mocking Hermione's efforts.
'Miss Granger!'
Hermione's wand jumped out of her grip only to land into the healer's hand.
Only the fear the witch would leave as the first healer did kept Hermione silent... and silently fuming.
'I'll be back soon. I need to make sure Mrs. Malfoy is in no distress. Injured mind left untreated often suffers drastic consequences.'
More drastic than being slices into ribbons?! Bellatrix would probably do exactly that to her if she survived and learnt of this little exercise!
'Wait! What about Bellatrix's mind?! You can't just go!'
The healer looked at her evenly, muttered something about wife's privilege under her breath, and nodded slightly.
'I can't read the state of her mind. I can barely detect her as a witch. The state she falls into is... baffling.' She collected her satchel. 'Start with the neck and head, and any place close to vital organs. To prevent the rot damaging important vessels and spreading even deeper inside.'
The witch flicked her wand, and the remains of Bellatrix's dress were gone. Hermione's eyes snapped closed.
'Are you alright, Miss Granger?' For the first time there was a hint of exasperation in the frustratingly even tone.
'Peachy! I must slice Bellatrix's neck! I'm just brilliant!'
Even if, and that was a big if, Bellatrix ignored been sliced and diced by her, she would surely be incensed about the violation of pretty much every rule in her book. The clothing, the lights, the show and tell with the strangers...
But, surely the life and death situations counted as exceptions…
Surely ending up dead was worse…
Hermione peeked at the injured witch.
The tatters of the dress were gone. Body and hair caked in old and new blood and goo. The witch looked smaller, terribly slight, very still, and very injured in the unforgiving brightness of the daylight. Bellatrix wasn't the Death Eater capable of death and destruction. She was just a witch, broken, weak, helpless.
Hermione sensed Bellatrix would not see ending up dead as a worse fate.
Was that the reason for the rules?..
Did Bellatrix feel helpless and weak without them?..
Was that how Bellatrix felt with her when they-
'Miss Granger!'
Hermione startled.
'Get out of your head. You'll be fine. Just try not to kill her.'
Hermione glared at the closing door.
'Merlin, she must really hate you… or me.'
Hermione shook Bellatrix.
'Wake up, Bellatrix! Damn you! What is the counter?! Wake up! What did he cast? What did he cast?!'
Bellatrix remained still.
Instead, another blister, next to Hermione's hold on Bellatrix's arm, exploded, sending stinking mix of blood and rot, all over Hermione's hand. The pink flesh inside the open wound pulsed.
Blood vessels were just under there.
Hermione threw up.
Hermione was holding onto Bellatrix and sobbing hysterically when the healer returned. So much so the healer rushed to check whether her patient was still alive.
Hermione was actually doing pretty well after her initial bout of nerves. She managed to reopen the healed cuts on Bellatrix's head, neck and left arm.
Then, she remembered that she was supposed to focus on vital areas. So, she skipped the right arm and went to clean the midsection to see the location of bruises and boils.
The dark brows knitted and black eyes snapped open.
Hermione startled. The knife slipped out of her hold and stabbed Bellatrix in the stomach.
Bellatrix didn't react. The wound was barely a scratch thanks to the healer's modification. And, the dark witch wasn't exactly there. Her stare was blank, like it was the first few weeks on the island.
But, that was it for Hermione. Her front and hands were covered by Bellatrix's blood and rot, and the idea of cutting into Bellatrix some more was absolutely paralyzing.
So she gathered the listless witch into her arms and cried.
The calming draught forced into her was a relief.
The none too gentle push to let Bellatrix go was welcome too.
'You care about the dark witch'
The healer took over the reopening of the wounds task, and Hermione was thankful. She however had no desire for heart to hearts.
The witch had the same look of pity as when Hermione first showed up at St Mungo's with her Intent filled.
Hermione dripped a mix of several potions into yet another open wound as the healer instructed.
'I do not. Can we focus-'
'No shame in caring about one's partner.'
'Really?! The Ministry-assigned Death Eater partner?! Then why the look you are giving me?! Why are you helping? You clearly hate her.'
'Ah, so you decided it is her I hate?..' Hermione flushed. Her frustrated mutter earlier apparently wasn't that quiet after all. 'She is sick. I am a healer. The simplest facts are often the best to hold on to.'
'There are many simple facts.'
'That there are...'
The curse ran out of steam eventually. Bellatrix was gray from the lost blood, and wrapped in so many bandages she resembled a mummy. But she was alive and supposedly on the mend.
Narcissa was supposedly on the mend too, even if the tremors continued to run through her unconscious body.
'Miss Granger, if you ever consider healing or medical research for your future, you'll have my full support and a place at St Mungo's'
Hermione was certain then that the healer must actually hate her after all.
Despite any suspected dislike, the healer visited the Grotto several more times over the next few days to complete the treatments, and ensure both Black sisters were recovering as expected.
Hours later, after a long bath and several shots of plain fire whiskey, the sensation of the magic gathered and released to destroy a living being started to dim in Hermione mind. Of course, that was when the memories of Bellatrix's skin as she made the cut after cut, the feel and the smell of the released blood and rot, came to the forefront of her mind making her nauseous all over again.
And when she slept, she slept fitfully. The image of a faceless Death Eater standing outside the apparition circle unharmed added to the other troubling images.
Eventually, the reruns of her awful Thursday afternoon, the what-ifs and if-onlys, gave way to questions.
Some things just didn't make sense.
Rabastan and the wards…
Bellatrix and the wand…
Rabastan's remarks… his attitude...
Bellatrix's dueling… her attitude...
With her thoughts straying away from anything school-related, with Bellatrix and Narcissa unconscious, with her wand temporarily confiscated, first by the healer and then by Harry for investigation...
Hermione had little to do but obsess...
So, she made lists of questions and theories.
And browsed their quite limited library for answers.
End of Chapter 51