CHRISTINE'S heart was in her throat as she closed the door to Fudge's office. He nodded in curt recognition and motioned for her to occupy the chair across from him as he sat behind his desk. Christine could only comply.
As Christine numbly moved to sit down in the chair across from the Minister of Magic, the room seemed to grow colder, and Minister Fudge regarded Christine with an icy demeanor, his gaze piercing through her. She could feel the weight of the wizard's authority bearing down on her, and for a moment, doubt crept into her mind.
"Miss Lestrange," Fudge offered by way of greeting in a cold and calculating voice. "You requested an audience with me. What is it that you wish to say to me?"
Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and took a moment to gather her courage, her eyes unwavering as she met Minister Fudge's gaze.
"Minister, sir, I understand the gravity of Barty Crouch's crimes. And my own. But I also believe in the power of redemption. He is not the same man he once was, he has changed, sir."
Fudge's lips curled into a cynical smile, and he leaned back in his ornate chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight.
"Redemption, you say. Miss Lestrange, do you even hear yourself, what it is you are saying? How ridiculous do you sound? Miss Lestrange, there is absolutely nothing you can say in your defense or in that madman's. Barty Crouch is first and foremost a Death Eater and the man always will be. His allegiance was sworn to the darkest of wizards. Your words cannot change the past."
Christine's resolve faltered for a moment, but she pressed on, her voice trembling slightly. "Minister, please, do not do this, do not send him away from me. He has become someone that I cannot live without. I am willing to take full responsibility for him. I'll ensure he remains under house arrest, watched at all times. He will never leave his home," she pleaded. Christine sat resolutely before the Minister of Magic, her determination burning brightly. She had one last card to play in her bid to save the man she loved, and she was willing to lay it all on the table now.
"Minister, I beg of you," she began, her voice unwavering, "I implore you to reconsider your stance on Barty Crouch. Yes, he may have committed unspeakable crimes, but I believe he can be of use in the war against Voldemort."
Fudge let out a hiss through gritted teeth as his face contorted with skepticism.
"Do not dare say his name, Miss Lestrange, in my presence. The Dark Lord's return is a fabrication, Miss Lestrange. There is no war to speak of, and your faith in Mr. Crouch's redemption is misplaced. He forcefully removed you from your own home and has now brainwashed you."
Christine felt her frustration bubble within her chest, but she stomped it back down, refusing to let him see it, and refused to back down.
"Minister, the Dark Lord has returned. Barty and I have encountered the Dark Lord personally and I was nearly killed." A chill ripped through her as a hand instinctively shot to caress her throat as the memory of the Dark Lord slitting her throat flashed through her mind. She had trouble shaking the memory away. She blew out a deep breath and continued. "When he does return fully and when he comes for the Ministry of Magic, we will need every capable witch and wizard to stand against him. Like it or not, Barty has knowledge and skills that can be of value to you."
Fudge's expression hardened as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You expect me to trust the word of a woman who associates herself with a known Death Eater?" he asked.
"I-I've severed all ties with him," Christine lied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue, her voice tinged with desperation. "But I can still vouch for his compliance. As I suggested, let me monitor him. He will remain under house arrest, closely monitored, and never allowed to leave the premises. And if we can utilize his talents and his intelligence, he can help prevent even greater suffering."
Fudge leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together as he quietly considered her proposal.
Finally, he shook his head, his resolve unbroken. "I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange, but I cannot accept your plea. Barty Crouch's crimes are too grave to ignore, and I simply cannot risk his involvement."
Christine tasted bile in her throat and her heart sank, but she knew she couldn't give up.
She had to make a sacrifice, one that might sway the Minister's decision.
She spoke, her voice quaking. "Minister, sir, if it would make all the difference to you, I am willing to offer my services as a Dire Woman in the fight against the Dark Lord. I can help protect our world from the darkness that looms."
Cornelius Fudge's eyes widened, and for a moment, she thought she had made progress, and felt the beginning flicker of hope ignite in her chest. But his response immediately snuffed out that hope.
"Your abilities as a Dire Woman are not something to be squandered in a war that does not exist. No, Miss Lestrange, your proposal is rejected. Instead, I suggest a different path. You shall have your memories of Barty Crouch and your abilities as a Dire Woman erased from your mind. That way, you can return to a life of normalcy, free from any association of a dark past."
Tears welled in Christine's eyes as she realized the cost of her decision.
But there was a deeper part of her that was willing to make any sacrifice to save Barty and ensure he did not have to return to Azkaban Prison, even if it meant losing herself in the process.
She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "If that is the price to secure his freedom and safety, then I agree."
As the Minister's plan took shape, Christine couldn't help but wonder if the path she had chosen would lead to salvation or her oblivion. Minister Fudge's decision weighed heavily on Christine as they proceeded with the Minister's plan to erase her memories.
It was a somber, surreal experience as Minister Fudge guided her out of his office and into a small, dimly lit room just down the hall, surrounded by magical instruments and potions, all designed to remove the memories that had defined her. Christine watched as a skilled Obliviator prepared a silvery, ethereal strand of memory magic. It shimmered in the air, casting an eerie light into the dimly lit room.
She clenched her fists, her heart pounding with anticipation and dread.
Fudge, who had been overseeing the process, approached her one last time. His voice held a rare hint of sympathy as he said, "Miss Lestrange, this is your last chance to change your mind. Once this process is complete, you will forget everything about Barty Crouch Jr., your powers as a Dire Woman, and your association with the Dark Arts."
Christine closed her eyes, summoning her resolve. She had made her choice, and she would see it through to the end.
"I understand, Minister. Do it."
The Obliviator stepped forward, and the silvery strand of magic began to encircle Christine's head. As it made contact with her temples, she felt a sharp, searing pain in her mind, as though her very thoughts were being ripped away. Memories flashed before her like a series of photographs—Barty's smile, their shared connection, the feeling of his lips moving against hers in a kiss, the moments they had cherished together—all of it slipping away into oblivion.
Through the pain, Christine clung to one thought: her promise to Barty that he would live, no matter what.
It was her anchor in this storm of oblivion, this haze that began to take control of her mind.
When the process was complete, Christine felt sick, disoriented, and lost. Her memories were a fragmented jigsaw puzzle, with missing pieces she could no longer recall at all. The memories of Barty were like smoke, slipping through her fingers, but she thought, there had been a man she was once close to.
Fudge escorted her out of the room, the Minister of Magic's expression unreadable. "You have made a noble sacrifice, Miss Lestrange," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of sympathy and detachment. "Your association with Barty Crouch Jr. and your powers as a Dire Woman are no longer a burden. You can return to a normal life."
Christine nodded, though the Minister's words were lost on her and left her feeling confused.
She felt as though a part of her had been hollowed out. She could sense the emptiness where her memories had once resided, and she could vaguely recall keeping her promise.
Because of her decision, a man would live, and she had paid the price for the man's freedom.
Christine emerged into the hallway, where she encountered an Auror named Ollie. He greeted her with a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Her senses felt numb, and her steps lacked steadiness as the charming wizard before her offered to guide her away from this place, although she remained uncertain about his intended destination.
The weight of her choice bore down on her, but it had become a burden too complex for her to fully grasp. Reluctantly, she permitted Ollie Black to lead her down the corridor toward an undisclosed endpoint.
She stole a glance at the witch and wizard officials hustling about, their faces etched with determination, their lives seemingly untouched by the extraordinary sacrifice she had just made for the man she loved. As Christine walked with Ollie down the dimly lit corridor, her mind felt hazy, and the surroundings seemed oddly unfamiliar to her.
She glanced hopefully at Ollie, searching for some explanation, but the man simply maintained a solemn if not furious demeanor. It was then that she noticed he carried something close to his chest as one would a gift.
"You're holding something in your hand. What is it?" she murmured, made curious.
Ollie let out a frustrated exhale. "It's a token, Christine. It's meant to be a gift from someone who cares about you deeply."
Christine looked puzzled. "But I…I can't remember who would give me anything. I have no one in my life except for Kreela," she whispered, quietly and confused. As they reached the interrogation room, Ollie opened the door with a curt flick of his wand and allowed the Obliviated witch to step inside. The room was cold and sterile.
She hesitated by the threshold, still perplexed by what Ollie Black held in his hand, a ring, and the void in her memory as she could not recall who would give her such a gift. As Christine numbly examined the plain silver band held out by Ollie for her inspection, her attention was drawn to another man, securely chained to a chair nearby.
A table stood before him, and he sat there in a state of vacant contemplation until her arrival. However, the moment he noticed her presence, his gaze shot up, fixing directly on her. There was an unassuming quality about him.
His tousled hair displayed a muted walnut hue, and his facial features bore the unremarkable visage of an ordinary man. Were it not for his current restraints and captivity, suggesting a dark past, one might even describe him as handsome. Christine couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement as his eyes locked onto hers, an undeniable intrigue arising from the mysterious circumstances surrounding this seemingly ordinary man.
She was surprised to see a surge of frustration and suspicion grip the man's facial features as he slowly turned his attention toward Christine.
"Did Fudge harass you, Christine, darling, when you spoke to him? What did he say? Are we free to leave?" Barty demanded, his voice dripping with accusation.
Her intrigue of this wizard quickly gave way to unease as she confessed, "I have no idea who you are." Christine's confusion deepened as she struggled to make sense of the man's intense questions. Her memory remained a foggy maze, and she couldn't recall any interaction with someone named Fudge. "I... I don't remember anyone named Fudge," she stammered, her voice tinged with anxiety. "I don't even know where I am or how I got here."
Barty's frustration grew more pronounced, and his eyes darted between Christine and Ollie. His restrained posture in the chair seemed to amplify his anger. As Christine summoned the courage to meet the wizard's gaze, having confessed her lack of memory, she was shocked as a sudden surge of anger coursed through the wizard.
His face contorted into a mask of fury, and he clenched his fists that were bound to the chair tightly.
"You don't remember me? How could you not remember me, Christine? It's me, Barty!" he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.
Christine, taken aback by the sudden change in Barty's demeanor, stepped further away, fear and confusion etched on her face. Barty's anger was palpable, and it frightened her.
"I-I'm sorry, I just don't know who you are," she stammered, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar cell, desperate for an escape.
Barty's rage intensified, and he let out a furious blood yell, his voice growing louder and more menacing. "You're sorry? That's it? After everything I've done for you, you're just sorry?"
The atmosphere in the cell became charged with tension as Barty's anger boiled over. Christine shook her head, her fear and confusion deepening. She had no answers, and the situation was becoming increasingly bewildering.
Turning his attention to Ollie, Barty's frustration boiled over.
"Give her the ring!" he snarled, pointing to the engagement ring that Ollie had plucked from his pocket. Barty's hands were still handcuffed and tethered to the bloodstained chair, rendering him helpless.
Ollie hesitated for a moment before reluctantly handing the ring to Christine. As she examined it, Barty's impatience grew. He could feel the anger building inside him, and his voice took on a furious edge.
"Look at me, Christine!" he demanded, his tone laced with anger. "Remember! Remember who I am!" he yelled.
But Christine's blank expression and continued amnesia only fueled Barty's rage, leaving him seething with anger and frustration as he remained bound and helpless in the chair.
Christine stared at the wedding band in her hand, plain and simple and silver, her mind racing to find any semblance of recognition. It was a truly beautiful ring, perfect for her, but there was no connection, no spark of memory to ignite her understanding.
"I…I'm sorry, but I don't remember," she whispered, her voice quivering with frustration. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the ring, as if hoping that it might hold the key to unlocking her lost memories.
Barty clenched his fists in his restraints, his face contorted with anger and desperation.
"You have to remember, Christine!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small, dingy room. "We were supposed to get married! I loved you!"
Tears welled up in Christine's eyes as she felt the weight of the wizard's words, but they remained meaningless, disconnected from her current reality.
She turned to Ollie, who was now pacing anxiously, an odd look plastered across the Auror's sharp features.
Ollie, who had been hesitant before, could no longer stand the tension. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, breaking the silence.
"Enough," he growled, his voice resolute and the anger in his tone palpable.
Both Christine and Barty turned their attention to the Auror, their faces a mix of hope and apprehension.
"Christine," Ollie began, "there's something you need to know." He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "You sacrificed your memories, your powers as a Dire Woman, to save Barty's life."
Christine's eyes widened as she absorbed the weight of Ollie's revelation. She looked at Barty, who was now silent, his eyes glistening with unshed tears and filled with disbelief and sorrow.
Barty's voice trembled as he spoke, tears welling up in his eyes. "You…did that for me…?"
Ollie nodded, his jaw clenched with bitterness. "Yes, Crouch, Christine did this to ensure that you could live 'free', even if it's under house arrest. In the comforts of your own home. You would've been taken to Azkaban otherwise, and she couldn't bear to see you suffer anymore."
Barty's shoulders shook as he wept, the realization of Christine's sacrifice hitting him like a tidal wave. "I don't deserve this, any of this," he whispered hoarsely as the words caught in his throat.
Ollie's fury and bitterness surfaced, and he couldn't contain his anger any longer.
"No, you don't deserve it, Crouch," he snapped. "If it had been up to me, I'd have given you back over to the Dementors and let them have you. You were reckless and your actions led to Norah's death. Christine paid the price for your mistakes, and I…I'll never forgive either of you for what happened."
Barty continued to sob, his body wracked with guilt and despair.
The weight of his actions, the pain he had caused to those around him, and the enormity of Christine's sacrifice crushed him. He knew that he had brought all of this upon himself, and it was impossible to deny it any longer.
As he wept, Ollie's anger began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sadness. He had carried this resentment for so long, but seeing Crouch's broken state made him question whether holding onto that anger was truly worth it.
He had lost Norah, and now he saw that Crouch was suffering too.
Ollie's voice softened somewhat as he continued, "Christine loved you, Barty, despite everything. She saw something in you worth saving. But you have to understand the pain and loss you've caused, not just to her, but to all of us who cared about Norah. Your actions shattered our lives, and we can't just forget that. You brought this on yourself."
Barty nodded, unable to speak through his tears. He knew that he had a long road to redemption ahead of him, and it might never truly make up for his past deeds. The consequences of his choices were now inescapable, and he would have to bear that burden for the rest of his life.
The room grew heavy with the weight of their choices, regrets, and the heavy price that had been paid.
The silver wedding band that glistened in the flat of Christine's palm, once a symbol of love, now served as a reminder of the sacrifices made and the pain that would linger, haunting their lives.
As Barty wept and Christine grappled with the enormity of her sacrifice, Ollie's bitterness hung in the air like a thick cloud. The room felt suffocating, filled with the echoes of their past mistakes and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Christine's confusion still lingered, but with Ollie's revelation, the room's tension shifted.
Barty's tears continued to flow, and Christine's gaze remained locked on the engagement ring as she processed the sacrifice she had made. Ollie took a deep breath, his bitterness giving way to a sense of determination.
He turned to Auror Runcorn, who had been silently observing the situation.
"Auror Runcorn, remove his restraints," Ollie commanded, pointing at Barty.
Auror Runcorn hesitated for a moment, but he could see the change in the dynamics of the room. With a nod, he unlocked Barty's handcuffs, allowing him to rub his sore wrists and slowly stand up.
Barty looked at Ollie with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice still choked with emotion.
Ollie nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention to Christine. "Christine, I'll make sure you get home safely," he said, his voice gentle. "Norah, she...she would have wanted me to do at least this much," he murmured.
Christine nodded, a mix of relief and uncertainty in her expression. She handed the engagement ring back to Barty, a silent promise to revisit their past when the time was right.
With Barty freed and Christine ready to leave, Ollie turned to Auror Runcorn once more.
"Escort Barty home, Auror Runcorn. Make sure he stays safe."
Auror Runcorn nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He motioned for Barty to follow him, and the two of them left the room, leaving Christine and Ollie alone.
Ollie offered his arm to Christine, a gesture of support and protection.
"Let's get you home, Christine," he said, his voice filled with determination.
As they left the room behind, the weight of their past actions and the uncertainty of the future still hung in the air.
Christine did not see Barty leave as the Aurors Disapparated with the Death Eater in tow once Ollie had freed him of his restraints, though she felt the burn of his gaze burning a hole through her as Ollie escorted her swiftly out of the room, choosing to lead her to one of the fireplaces connected to the Floo Network.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Fudge watched her, and Ollie departed from a distance, his gaze a mix of curiosity and guilt. He had decided to erase the young woman's memories, and he knew the magnitude of the burden he had placed upon her.
But to him, it was a necessary measure to keep the Wizarding World safe from a dangerous creature like her.
As Christine and Ollie walked through the grand archways towards one of the fireplaces, she could hear snippets of conversation, discussions about the so-called "return" of Voldemort, and the Ministry's reluctance to acknowledge it.
She wanted to scream, to tell them that the danger was real, that she had sacrificed everything to ensure the safety of those around her and closest to her. But the words eluded her, lost in the haze of her fractured memories.
The fireplace before them was ornate, its marble mantel adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures. Ollie offered her a reassuring smile and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"We'll get you home, Christine," he repeated, his voice softer this time.
Christine managed a weak nod, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. She didn't know who to trust anymore, not after what had just transpired.
But Ollie, despite his role in this perplexing ordeal, seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being.
With a determined flick of his wand, Ollie ignited the emerald flames in the fireplace, their gentle warmth contrasting the cold dread that still clung to Christine's heart.
"Doveport," he enunciated clearly, and the flames turned a brilliant green.
It was time to go home, even if she wasn't entirely sure where that truly was anymore.
Stepping into the emerald flames, Christine felt a rush of magic surround her. It was a familiar sensation, one she had experienced countless times before when using the Floo Network.
But this time, it felt different—tinged with the uncertainty of what awaited her at the other end.
Doveport, her neighborhood, was a place she had grown up in. The charming wizarding village nestled by the sea held memories of childhood adventures, secret hideaways, and the comforting presence of her family.
Yet, as she journeyed through the Floo Network, the memories she had taken for granted seemed more distant than ever before. Her past was like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, making it impossible for her to predict how she would fit back into her old life.
Christine's contemplative moment on the swing was abruptly shattered when Ollie approached her, his Auror's features etched with a mix of concern and frustration. His words came out in a rush of anger and hurt.
"Christine," he began, his voice tinged with disbelief, "I can't fathom what you could see in a bastard like Barty. He's caused so much pain, especially to me, to Norah." Ollie's expression turned stern, his gaze cold and unforgiving. "I can't believe you would even consider marrying him, or had," he growled, his voice dripping with resentment. "He's the reason Norah's gone, for Merlin's sake, and you'd marry him?!" He snarled the last words, his eyes fixed on her, filled with anger and betrayal.
Moments later, she stumbled out of the fireplace in her own home, the familiar surroundings providing some comfort. The living room was cozy and adorned with family photographs, but the faces in those pictures felt like strangers to her now. Christine stood there for a moment, feeling a wave of nostalgia and confusion wash over her. She had returned to the place she once called home, but it felt like she was a stranger in her own life.
The sound of the clock on the wall ticking away the seconds brought her back to the present. It was still early evening, and the sun was casting a warm, golden glow through the windows. She could hear the distant laughter of children playing outside, a reminder of the life she used to lead.
As she moved through the house, memories began to resurface. The scent of her mother's homemade soup wafted in from the kitchen, and she could almost hear her father's jovial laughter echoing through the halls.
But these were mere fragments of her past, like fading echoes.
Christine looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and sadness. "I understand the pain he's caused, Ollie. But I saw him today, and he's not well. He's hurting, and I can't just ignore that. He was once a part of our lives, too."
Ollie's anger didn't subside, but he begrudgingly nodded. "Fine, Christine. But don't expect me to do anything for him. I want nothing to do with him."
As they spoke, a small, frantic figure appeared at Christine's side. It was Kreela, her faithful house-elf. She tugged at Christine's dress, her voice quivering with distress. "Mistress Christine, Kreela has grave news!"
Christine knelt, her concern growing. "What is it, Kreela? What's happened?"
Kreela spoke hurriedly, her large eyes filled with worry.
"Master Barty, he's in a terrible state, he is! Kreela heard from Winky, and she did. When Master Barty arrived home, he began thrashing about, breaking things, and crying like Winky's never seen before."
Christine's heart sank at the news.
She turned to Ollie with urgency in her eyes. "Ollie, this is worse than I thought. Please, just check on him for me. I can't ignore this, not after hearing what Kreela just said. It's what Norah would have wanted."
Ollie's bitterness was evident as he glanced between Christine and Kreela.
"Alright, alright, I'll do it," he grumbled. "But this better not be a mistake, Christine."
Kreela, sensing Ollie's reluctance, stepped forward. "Master Ollie, Kreela can take it from here. You've done enough."
With that, Ollie nodded and turned away, his emotions tumultuous. "Goodbye, Christine," he said tersely, and then he walked away, leaving Christine to face the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
As Kreela led Christine in the direction of her home, Christine couldn't shake the feeling that her journey home had taken an unexpected turn, one that would require her to confront the past in ways she never imagined.
Kreela led Christine inside the small but modest cottage, which felt both eerily familiar and uncomfortably foreign.
The place held traces of their shared history, yet it was also a stark reminder of the pain and loss that had been a part of it. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of years gone by. The house-elf hurried into the kitchen, and Christine could hear the clinking of pots and pans as Kreela went to work.
Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Christine couldn't help but appreciate the comfort of the familiar scent of Kreela's homemade soup that soon wafted through the air.
It was the same recipe that Christine's mother used to make, and it brought back a flood of memories.
As Kreela set a steaming bowl of soup in front of Christine, the house-elf's large eyes were filled with empathy.
"Mistress Christine, Kreela is here for you," she said softly.
Christine nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she picked up the spoon. The hot broth warmed her from the inside, and it was as if each sip carried with it a comforting embrace from the past. The weight of her emotions became too much to bear, and Christine began to cry, her tears mixing with the soup.
Kreela didn't say a word, but she placed a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder, offering her silent support.
In that moment, Christine realized how much she had missed the simplicity and warmth of her old life, the genuine care that had surrounded her. Christine wept silently, her tears falling into her bowl of soup. It was as though each tear carried with it a piece of the sorrow and confusion that had overwhelmed her since returning home.
She had hoped her journey back would be a rekindling of her roots, a reconnection with her past, but it had brought with it a torrent of emotions and memories she hadn't expected.
Kreela remained by her side, her presence a source of comfort. The house-elf's silent support spoke volumes, and Christine appreciated it more than words could express. She knew that Kreela had always been there, a steadfast companion throughout her childhood, and now, when she needed it most.
As Christine's tears began to subside, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Thank you, Kreela," she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with gratitude.
Kreela nodded, her eyes brimming with compassion. "Mistress Christine, you are not alone. Kreela will always be here for you."
With those words, Christine felt a renewed sense of strength and purpose. She knew that the path ahead would be challenging, filled with uncertainty and the weight of the past, but she was determined to face it head-on.
Norah's memory, the bonds of her childhood, and Kreela's unwavering support would guide her as she navigated the complex journey of healing and forgiveness, not just for herself but for those who had once been a part of her life.