Chapter X

The White King

"DO I REALLY have to put in an appearance tomorrow?"

We sat at the edge of the winter garden behind Rosier Manor, trying to make ourselves sparse and somehow still ending up underfoot. I watched as the little elves hopped around, dusting the floors and trimmed the flowers and cooked and Morgana knows what else in preparations for tomorrow.

"Yes, you really have to. It is your house. It would be improper."

"And? What if I want to just go somewhere nice and quiet and snog with Marlene for a few hours instead of being paraded in front of people who don't care?"

Cara was fidgeting with a slim gold band that she had received last week from Marlene. It was their little secret, and it was impressive. Because giving rings was a muggle custom, so nobody would bat an eye; nobody would even so much as pause to look for deeper meanings, despite the fact that everyone in our social circle was trained to do just that since before they could walk or talk.

"You can do that tonight if you want, I will cover for you. But tomorrow you are going to put on that dress and pretend to care and we are both going to smile and dance with men we do not want because it will make our parents happy, yes?" And happy parents did not push for marriage so vehemently, the second part went unsaid.

"What, just have her over here? Now? Are you insane?"

"Why not? What do you think privacy charms were invented for anyway?" I said with a grin.

"Who would have thought! Narcissa Black, no longer so prim and proper, eh?"

Instead of attempting to assemble some mixture of revealing truths and false denials, I pulled out my wand and summoned my patronus. The raven burst from the tip of my wand easily now, after months of practice and late night tea with my sister. I felt the warmth and magic buzz through me, and even Cara's smile shed some of its teasing edges. It circled and circled around us, before flying through the glass and fizzling into the night, because Your special someone needs you. Bring nightclothes.

"What?"

"We should probably go check on the floo," I said in answer even as I felt my heart buzz with happiness and excitement that were not my own. Empathetic magic was weird like that.

Fifteen minutes, a tiptoe triplet through the manor, and one bribed elf later, we were giggling in Cara's room and sipping on sparkwine. Marlene was describing the wide and wonderful range of expletives her brother had used when describing his auror shift. "—she turned herself into a teapot—" she gasped out between breaths. "And—" and then broke down laughing again. "—then her elf panicked thinking it's some sort of intruder—" A squad of six aurors had come running to her house. Cara transfigured Marlene's cup into a lopsided teapot and we drank once we caught our breath. At some point between one story and another, the drinks became firewhisky.

We took shots and tilted our heads back to breathe out the fire as the warmth seeped through my body. We played truth or singe, which was technically just gossip since none of us wanted to be singed from firewhisky flames for tomorrow.

Some time later found me lying splayed starfish-style on Cara's bed as the world spun around me. I was alternating between thinking of how much I wanted to dance with—and kiss—Harry while tuning out the noises coming from the bathroom. And such a good friend I was, too! Honestly, they were so good together, I thought to myself as I rolled over in search of something to drink and almost fell off the bed. Even upside down, with my head hanging off the side of the mattress and looking at the bathroom door from a whole new perspective, I still thought they were good together. And honestly! Honestly, listen here! So was me and Harry. Because I said so. There.

At some point that night, we all ended up compiling a list of things we did not like about Lucy pucy Malfoy and Cara put likes boys and we all laughed and then (mostly himself) ended up next to it and I no longer felt so bad about dancing with him tomorrow, because no matter what I had my friends and I had Harry and I had Ana and the list was on fire like Malfoy's face would be if his hands strayed anywhere below my mid-back. Oh well.

···

Hey, we should put something in the sandwiches to have Malfoy make fart noises.

The world was very mean to me this morning. I woke up on the floor with a duvet as my mattress and a pillow that still smelt and felt a bit like a hardcover novel. And my head hurt to the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Cara, do you like my boooobs? Because I love yours!

I squinted against the morning sunlight currently waging a full frontal assault on my mind and tried to get my bearings together. Cara and Marlene lay entangled on the bed and facing the wrong way, legs on pillows and all. There was a half-eaten tray of desserts that were meant to be very elaborate but fell short of the mark, graciously donated by Tobble the old house elf.

Hey Marls, I have an amazing idea…

I groped around until I found my wand and mumbled a quick aguamenti because I was an independent woman and could solve my issues on my own, thank you very much. Then I stumbled into the bathroom in search of a towel and a tap because being independent had an extremely loose correlation with hungover spellcasting ability.

I eventually managed to wake the girls up and get us into a moderately presentable state before we snuck back to the floo and I whirled right back to my own bed, easy as breathing.

I was woken up by Minky some time after ten. There were freshly pressed robes hung on the clothes rail next to my bed. "Miss Cissy be getting up now," the elf said as she drew the curtains open. "Mistress tells Minky to makes fresh waffles to break the fast today. It is a very special day today Miss Cissy! Minky can feel it! And Minky is helping everyone get ready and is makes sure she does a better job than old Kreacher ever could!"

And Minky did stay true to her word. Since I was now the sole inhabitant of the house under the age of forty, Minky fussed about me for hours on end to ensure I was dressed to the sky-high standard of a daughter of the House of Black. She made sure that the makeup was just so; and the diamond embroidery on the bodice were all sparkling; and the dress was tailored to fit me like a second skin at any point where it was flattering. I twirled in front of the mirror and for a moment I felt as beautiful as Harry told me I was. And then we got to the sleeves.

"Minky, cut the sleeves."

"But—"

Not quite the gloves customary for engaged women, but not quite the bare arms of free maidens, either. I hated every stitch of the damned fabric.

"That was not a question, Minky!" I snapped at the elf. "I will not have my forearms covered. Either you cut them and make it look pretty or Morgana help me I will burn them off myself."

I glared at the elf as she wrung her hands. I could hear all the 'But Mistress commanded' and 'That would be very improper' and did not care one whit. I resisted the urge to snap at the elf further. "I do not care what my mother or my father say, I will not be marrying that fool of a French upstart and I want—that—known," I said as I purposefully folded the garment at the elbows.

"Yes, Miss Cissy," the elf broke after another minute of arguing.

I thought it made the dress look so much more chic. The lines of my mother's eyebrows said she did not agree but by the time she noticed we were already at Rosier Manor. I was not sure if my father cared enough to notice. It was all worth it, I thought as I relished the way Malfoy clenched his jaw even as he kissed my hand and murmured some variation of bland polite greeting that I did not feel like returning.

Cara was looking resplendent in robes of burgundy and enviously bare shoulders. Her smile widened considerably when Malfoy dragged me over to say his welcomes. More bland words were exchanged as I tried to not giggle while remembering all the things we said last night.

He took me to dance in the middle of the ballroom, because that was customary and expected. His hands were cold and clammy and I would bet all the galleons in our vaults that if the current fashion was not high necklines, he would have given my cleavage an inspection. He spun me around and I caught a glimpse of Bella on her husband's arm greeting Cara and her father across the ballroom.

"Spare me the tedium of dragging me around to see all your friends, will you?" I said once the song ended. He had been looking towards where Avery and Lestrange the younger were talking next to the buffet.

"Miss Black! It would—"

"No, it would not, Mr Malfoy. I am not some precious flower and I will not wilt lest you hold me upright. Go tend to your matters and I will go tend to mine." Or make some up, for all I cared.

He turned and left. I had about ten seconds of freedom before—

"Oh, Cissy, how lovely to see you again after such a long time!"

I carefully contained a flinch like a little bird. It fluttered and fluttered and made my heart beat a quick staccato in my chest. I felt the skin under my jaw itch even as I put on a smile. "Hello, Bella. Good evening, Heir Lestrange."

"Good evening Miss Black. You are as radiant as my dear Bella."

"You are too kind, sir," I demurred.

Bella snorted. "He says the nicest things, usually before he tears my dress off, isn't that right? Would you be a sweet and get us some wine and something to eat? I have so much to tell my sister," she said as she took me by the elbow and spared her husband nary a glance. "It is a good thing that father matched you with Lucius. I cannot wait to have you around more often, there is a distinct lack of wits in the company Rodolphus hangs about with."

"That is not the nicest of things to say about your husband and his noble company, Bella," I said as I played along, trying to get a feel for where Bella wanted the conversation to go.

"Yes, it is not exactly something to die for, is it?" she said with a grin that stretched too thin and brittle. "But they are not too bad. I have to introduce you to Lord Gaunt later tonight! He is a simply fascinating man—And oh! I cannot wait until he gets into politics!"

Politics indeed. It was jarring walking with my sister, arm in arm, along the winter gardens. Just yesterday, I was here contemplating how this exact conversation would go; how I would handle being near her after all she had done. But… What the fuck do you say to that? 'Oh, yeah, I would love to get introduced to your Dark Lord, sister dear!'

"Oh, I would love to get introduced to Lord Gaunt, sister dear! However, I would not wish to impose upon his attentions. I am certain he has better things to occupy his time than talking with the likes of me."

"Nonsense, Cissy! He is a most generous friend, and has already expressed his interest in meeting with father and Uncle Orion. I am certain he would not mind meeting my sister as well."

We filled the time by talking empty words and pretending like nothing was out of the ordinary. She commented on how prettily the violets bloomed in their flower beds and twinned one into her hair; how her husband irked her so last week at dinner; how Mute the Lestrange elf creeped her out since her tongue had been torn out. I replied with how I was swamped with schoolwork; how I was annoyed that they were out of my favourite paints the last time I went to the store; and how awful the Ministry and the papers were for what they did digging into Malfoy's dirty laundry.

"Wretched creatures, those paper pushers," she agreed. "How are we to make real change if we are hampered by such… frivolities as laws? Let's not pretend that at least two thirds of the elected representatives in the Wizengamot are anything but red-dressed puppets with a higher notion of self-worth." As if the same could not be said for the purple-dressed hereditary representatives, or the pink-dressed ministry ones. Money made the wheels of the world turn, after all.

I nodded in reply as Rodolphus Lestrange and—most unfortunately—Lucius Malfoy returned with flutes of sparkwine and cucumber sandwiches. We toasted to the good health of our family, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, and Lord Gaunt. The wine buzzed down my throat with a pleasant, mellow sort of euphoria. It made it just that tiny bit easier not to grimace when Bella toasted a megalomaniac.

Bella rolled her eyes in my direction as Malfoy offered me his hand, Lestrange doing likewise for her. We drifted around the ballroom on the arms of our big strong men like the dutiful dates we were. We clapped politely and congratulated Thomas Avery and Constance Nott on their nuptials when they were announced. She had gloves of pale grey with vermillion embroidery in the colours of House Avery and smiled as if she meant it. The second announcement came when Frank Longbottom twirled Alice onto the floor, her hands covered in maroon and Naples yellow and kissed her like girls expect to be kissed from reading soppy romance novels.

Beside me, Malfoy drew a quick breath, his left arm tensing under mine, a little. That was all the warning I got.

"Good evening, Lord Gaunt," I heard Bella say from beside me and my blood froze inside my veins. Malfoy went into a deep bow beside me, forcing me to curtsy with far less dignity than I was happy with, even as he echoed the greetings.

"Good evening." His voice was smooth and pleasant, his face the picture perfect middle-aged statesman with not a single hair out of place. His robes were midnight black, with no house crest or colours. He tipped the flute of sparkwine in my direction. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced?"

"My Lord, this is my sister, Miss Narcissa Black."

"Most charmed," he said as he inclined his head, just a touch. The movement made the light hit just right, and I saw the briefest glimpse of a locket around his neck, nestled between his robe lapels.

I took a sip of the sparkwine to recover, just a little. "Likewise." His smile reminded me of venomous snakes about to strike. The others must have noticed as well. In the space between one breath and the next, Lucius had gone to refill his glass, and Bella with her husband had been drawn to conversation with the newly engaged Avery and Nott. Despite being in a room full of people, I felt so… alone.

"It is a wonderful day today, is it not?" He had his hands clasped behind his back, having disposed of his drink onto a passing tray. I still held mine like a shield. It was likely to be the only protection I would get. "Do you enjoy the traditions, Miss Black? The wakefyre and the magic it represents." I followed his gaze to where he was looking outside the window, where the elves had prepared a huge pile of wood that would be set ablaze at midnight.

"The bonfire, Lord Gaunt?" I shrugged. "What is there not to like about honouring magic?"

"Wakefyre, Miss Black. It is called a bonnefyre when bones are burned as well. There… Well, let's hope there is none of that tonight," he added with a slight tug of his lips. "It is important to make the distinction, just as it is important to preserve our traditions. Magic is might, as they say, and to dishonour the rituals is most… Barbaric. And unfortunately more and more common."

Him? He is the Dark Lord? But—

He's charming and charismatic? He's got that act down to a T.

And damn it I could feel it. The way he spoke was almost hypnotic. I would not have been surprised had I learned he somehow figured out how to mimic the sirens' magic and weave enchantments into his own voice. But I had already set sail and I was not going to change course for any man, no matter how charming.

Conversation is like chess, little Narcissa. People will always try to take your pieces. Everyone wants to win. If you let them believe you do not see the play they are making, more like than not you can checkmate before they realise they have been played.

But what if they knew that I knew?

"It is unfortunate, seeing our wonderful traditions be spurned," I said. Because it was true. I was as good at occlumency as any Black, but every lie was better concealed if it blossomed from a seed of truth.

"Indeed. Tell me, Miss Black, does it make us evil if we try to persevere? When the Saxons invaded, Merlin stood at the head of Britannia, defending their way of life. Are we not in the right to do the same? To try to keep our traditions and our customs and our magic?"

"There is no good or evil," I said, softly reciting something grandfather told me half a dozen times. "Only power, and those too weak to use it." It felt like the sort of thing he wanted to hear. We stared at each other's reflections in the panes of glass, my face flickering sporadically with colour as the sparkwine sent out little fizzles of golden light. He was smiling—truly smiling—now, not the amused half-smiles he seemed to prefer. My mind was a whirlpool of steadfast belief. He would not read more than the bare truth, no matter how hard he tried to push. Because even he could not afford to outright attack my mind, or so I hoped. Not yet, anyway.

"I truly hope we can become better acquainted, Miss Black. The world needs more people to take action before it is too late."

I tilted my head to the side, softly clinking my nails on the rim of the glass. "And are you one such person, Lord Gaunt?"

"After a fashion, yes. I have spent years gathering like-minded people about me, all with one goal: to see our culture and traditions flourish. Not smothered into obscurity by letting the muggleborn remain uneducated; looking away and pretending our houses—our legacies—are not fading." There was passion in his voice as he spoke, an unyielding conviction not unlike that which Harry possessed when speaking. Almost… uncannily so.

"And what if they do not accept, Lord Gaunt? What if they say it is not them that is the issue, but us?" After all, House Gaunt did not fall from grace because of muggles, but the wizards themselves.

"Then we make them see." His speech morphed in sibilance even as his frown drew his eyebrows into a tight vee. "The Knights of Walpurgis were founded over a thousand years ago, to protect witches and wizards from the fear and ignorance of muggles. They tried to burn us out, root and stem. Make no mistake, Miss Black. The times are changing. It has not yet been thirty years since muggles, in their ignorance, almost tore the world apart with their silly meddlings in power. I witnessed first hand as London burned and trembled. We need change. We need to shape our society to embrace our traditions; our customs. Take the children away from the muggles. Educate them in our ways. Protect them!"

"It was not solely muggles that caused the Great War, Lord Gaunt. It was wizards, not muggles, that stirred up the tension. Our traditions are important, I agree. The children of muggles should be taught, I agree. But who is to say it is our right to decide their fate? How are we any superior to them?"

I could see how he tried to reign in his anger. How his jaw unclenched, his forehead smoothed. "Because we have magic, Miss Black! That is what makes us special; what makes us more. Can you not feel it in the air?" He gestured with his hands and I felt a shiver of power run through me like icy water streaming through my body. "Because if magic is forgotten; if the ways of how magic came to be are neglected in the name of inclusivity, what then? Will you sit on the sidelines and watch as our world decays and unravels because nobody steps up to save it? Because I will not. The Gaunts descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. He was bound by scruples, consternated by those who he would call peers. I shall not make the same mistakes."

He took a pause, running a finger along the silver chain that led to the locket. Green and angular with an elaborate silver S in the middle. "It is time that we chose the world we want to make, Miss Black. I hope you have as much wisdom as your sister did, and see that there really is only one logical conclusion at the end of the road." Then he slipped the locket back into his robes, and bowed. "Good evening, Miss Black."

I was left alone with sparkwine fizzing in my hand, staring out into the night.

Yet, the night moved on, unburdened and wild like the magic in the air; uncaring of the darkness and unafraid of the evil. Before long, I had found my way across the ballroom to finally give my congratulations to Frank, Alice and their parents. Alice jokingly said that Frank should enjoy his last time dancing unmarried, and I ended up on the dance floor as the clock beat eleven. The music that had started slow and formal hours prior had slowly escalated into quick, merry tunes of celebration. The notes flew and twinned in the air, seeping the room in a magic unlike any you could make with wand or rune.

I danced and danced and lost myself to placing one foot in front of the other. I danced with Frank Longbottom and told him to take good care of Alice. I danced with his best friend, Edgar Bones. By the time I danced with Marlene's older brother Matthew, the eyes did not bother me. Not my father's frown, nor Lucius Malfoy's stare from the corner of the room. I laughed as Matthew pulled me out of the way of another couple and we almost tumbled on the floor; dizzy from music and wine and relief.

Before I knew it, Harry was standing in front of me in navy blue and gold robes. From the look Marlene and Cara gave me, it had all been planned and I could not have been more thankful. He smiled at me and kissed my hand and invited me to dance. His hand was solid as steel in mine, the other warm and guiding me like a lighthouse in a storm. I wished I could spend the whole night in his arms as we lost ourselves between all the other dancing pairs. I wished I could have gloves of navy blue and gold. I wished I could sneak away and kiss him under the stars. He smelled like the forest after rain.

"Are you okay, Cissa?"

"Perfect, now that you are here."

He spun me around like we did a dozen times in the Room, and the rest of the world faded into all the people that did not matter.

The music climbed and climbed and rose into a crescendo and I spun under his hand as the final notes drifted through the room. People were cheering and clapping and whistling sounds of merriment. I would have to get Cara something special because she timed it so perfectly—we had the last dance, and it was the only one that mattered.

Everyone was moving outside for the midnight bonfire and I was on Harry's arm and we were just enough shades of related that it was not improper. Lucius Malfoy had made himself conveniently sparse and I did not give a gnome's fart about his whereabouts. Cara had already left, having to make an appearance at the front of the crowd, but Harry was walking slowly, almost as if he wanted to be the last to arrive.

I heard him whisper a privacy charm and watched as people parted around us like the waves, uncaring and unfazed. Then he winked and threw the Cloak around us and damn he was smart.

We kissed as the bonfire erupted and it was as magical as any girl could wish for.

···

When I came down for breakfast the morning after, the atmosphere was as tense as the time after Ana had left the family. Mother's shoulders were stiff as she poured herself morning tea, and even father seemed subdued. He looked up as I walked into the dining room and handed me the papers with a sigh.

Midwinter Murders

I rubbed at my eyes and prayed I had misread.

It is with a heavy heart that we write this news. Last night around midnight, Eugenia Jenkins, the Minister of Magic, was murdered. The aurors arriving on scene were confronted with the Minister's house already set alight by fiendfyre. An unidentified symbol has been cast over the scene of the crime.

The D.M.L.E. office had been alerted of a possible breach of defences four minutes before midnight, when the vital monitors for the Minister began misbehaving. The perpetrators and motives behind the attack are still under investigation. When we tried asking about other casualties, we were told that at least four aurors are currently unaccounted for. Please contact the D.M.L.E. office if you have any information on any of the following persons:

I scanned through the list of names at lightning speed before looking at the picture again. It had clearly been taken from far away, with trees obscuring most of the details. In the middle of the frame blazed a small, house-shaped fire. It looked… Wrong. Even in the picture it looked wrong and twisted. And above the house hung what I could only guess to be the Dark Mark.

"Awful business. And to do it on Midwinter, no less!" mother said with a sigh when I had put the paper down.

Several things made sense now, like a puzzle finally falling into place. I loaded bacon and toast onto my plate as I replayed the conversation I had with Tom Riddle last night over and over again.

Wakefyre, Miss Black. It is called a bonnefyre when bones are burned as well.

Why would he tell me? Why talk to me at all? It was a show of power—every sentence and every action he did was a show of power. But was it supposed to intimidate me? Awe me? Did he hope I would speak in his favour to my parents, or that I would be too afraid to speak against?

What had Bella told him about me? I cut my bacon with enough force to scrape the plate. Why had Bella told him about me?

"Do we have any more information than the papers?" I asked.

"No, but I will endeavour to find out," father said and that was the end of the debate, because the pictures in the paper spoke loud and clear. Something had changed, and not for the better.

···

Next day, the world found out just who would do such a thing.

I am Lord Voldemort. I am salvation; I am damnation; I am revolution.

The Prophet still cost two knuts, and the post owl looked as nonplussed as ever.

···

The silverware clinked softly against porcelain. The chimes nestled in the little nooks between the rafters and the folds of curtains of Grimmauld Place, waiting for their time to screech like nails on chalkboard; amplifying the lack of sound in the room as we all happened to drink or chew at the same time.

"It has been a long time since I last had the pleasure of your company, Bellatrix," Aunt Cassiopea asked from where he sat near the head of the table. "Tell me, dear, what have you been up to lately? I hope your husband treats you well."

Rodolphus dabbed at his mouth with a napkin as my sister spoke. "It is a pleasure to be see you again after so long. And don't worry, Rodolphus is ever the gentleman."

Come, Rody, that's enough. You can play with Bella later, but it's time to go now.

From beside Lestrange, I noticed the corner of Harry's mouth twitch slightly as his eyes briefly found mine. I studied the two of them, sitting next to one another across the table. Lestrange had all the manners: correct posture, soft and precise movements with the correct cutlery, and a seeming utter lack of spine. Harry, on the other hand, simply sat and ate, polite but rough around the edges and utterly unbothered by it.

"And speaking of gentlemen," Bella continued, "We have been spending a lot of time with Lord Gaunt, recently. He has kindly offered me patronage."

"Is that so? How generous of him!" said Aunt Cassiopea at the same time as Aunt Walburga's exclamation of "I do hope it is not anything improper for a young lady of such impeccable breeding—you know how the youth are nowadays."

Bella was playing with her water goblet, tilting it round and round so that it rolled on the rim of the base. "He is very generous to those he considers close and I am fortunate to be within his circle of friends. He has offered to teach me combat magic and history. I think you would all find his ideas very enlightening, had you taken the time to speak with him. Isn't that right, Rodolphus?" Her husband nodded.

"History! Oh I used to love history when I was younger—none of that nonsense the decrepit ghost teaches at Hogwarts about goblins and other scum but proper history! Regulus is also enamoured with reading all about wizarding history. Maybe you can teach him a thing or two, yes?"

Regulus sat stone faced in his seat next to me, tendons casting stark shadows across his hands where he gripped the chair arm. I got the distinct impression that he was not all that enthused about history. Or spending time with Bella. Nonetheless, she replied with "I would be delighted, auntie."

"Excellent! I think this calls for dessert! Kreacher! Bring our guests dessert and some dessert wine!" Kreacher appeared before Walburga could finish speaking, floating a tray of pudding and holding a bottle of wine. I saw her face flicker with annoyance, eyes darting to where Bella and her husband sat. "Not this you insipid, worthless creature! Elven wine? Bring me the nineteen fifty five and be quick about it!"

"Yes Mistress," said the old elf before he disappeared, only barely dodging Walburga's hand. Walburga continued her tirade about the elf to my mother as Regulus stood up, scraping his chair on the floor with an abrupt noise. He muttered his excusals about using the loo before he made his way out of the dining room. I knew he was going to find the elf to make sure he was not punishing himself after Aunt Walburga's outburst. He was a good boy, I thought sadly, both of them were.

"I don't believe it would be in your best interest to let either of your children near that man," Harry spoke for the first time since we had sat down for dinner. Bella stilled, the cup she was twirling thudding softly against mahogany. "After all, I wouldn't want my children anywhere near Lord Voldemort."

Bella's eye twitched just as I saw her husband's hand reach into his robes. I had my wand pointed at Lestrange's knee under the table before he was halfway through the motion; just in case. But neither moved, and it was father who broke the silence.

"Did you know about this, Bellatrix? Is this true?"

She lifted her head up; with pride and anger and utter lack of compassion. Even Sirius was paying attention now, the tendons on his arm stark against his hands as he gripped the arm of his chair, an uncanny mirror of his younger brother earlier.

"Perhaps Lord Voldemort is what we need, father." The way she wrapped the words in derision made me break a little. "Half the seats on the Wizengamot are bought by one house or another and look where it's gotten us! Our traditions are dying—they wanted to give the werewolves voting rights! The werewolves, father! What's next? Free the house elves? Break down the Statute of Secrecy?

"Of course I knew what he was doing! Because it's the only way to stop Dumbledore and his ilk before they unravel us from within. Maybe the House of Black is too afraid to remember, but we do. The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Notts—they remember what happened in France. They remember how the mudblood filth came in with their ideas of self-importance, and look where it left the great houses! If history taught us one thing, Aunt Walburga, it is that there is no such thing as a peaceful revolution!"

There was passion behind her words and it was an ugly, visceral thing. I tilted my head as if in consideration, even as I turned my wand an inch to the right. I hated myself for holding my sister at wandpoint. I hated her for making me do it. And most of all, I hated Tom Riddle for taking my sister away; for turning a girl that had been impulsive and rash into a woman that was vicious and cruel.

"To think we were thinking of inviting this man for dinner…" father said eventually, staring at Bella as if she were an apparition. Was it regret in his voice? Because it sure felt like regret in my heart. Because despite everything she had done, I loved my sister, and now she was gone. The woman who sat across the table was a stranger. Two years ago, on this very day, Ana had left the dinner table and never came back. Now, it felt like sweet Bella left, too, without any of us noticing.

"Then we can count our lucky stars that we did not," said Uncle Orion.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but my aunt beat her to it. "Count our lucky—are you dim, Orion? Would you prefer if the bills proposed in the Chamber passed? What next? Will you draw the line when werewolves teach your children? Look what happened when that half-breed dimwit went to school! Miss Warren was murdered! Is—"

"Enough." Grandfather's voice was not loud, but it cut through my aunt's tirade like a stiletto slicing tendons. "You will not talk like that to my son, Walburga. I am ashamed to have let Orion marry someone so short sighted."

"How dare you! In my house, no less!"

"You forget yourself, Walburga. I will not have you drag our family through mud by aligning ourselves with this… Lord Voldemort and his so-called Death Eaters." He looked from Walburga to Bella and her husband, then. "Go, if you want. Go and throw yourself at the feet of this madman. But do so and you will be a Black no longer." He finished his cup and stood. "I believe there are matters to be discussed that do not belong behind a dining table. Orion, thank you for your hospitality, the dinner was excellent. I will expect to see you and Cygnus in my study tonight. Happy holidays." He said his goodbyes to everyone except Aunt Walburga, Bella, and Lestrange.

The two of them stood up the moment grandfather left the room, Bella throwing her napkin on the table, scattering the cutlery onto the tablecloth with a clatter. Nobody seemed to be paying them much mind, seeing as Uncle Orion was busy arguing with his wife and the rest of the dinner guests crowded around Harry and Aunt Dorea. Only Sirius watched them go, lips in a thin line as his eyes tracked them leave the room. Had this been five years ago, I might have guessed at his thoughts. Now, he was practically a stranger.

It felt like Bella had become one, too.

I slipped out of the dining room soon thereafter, running a bit to make it down the stairs to the entrance hall and the floo before they left. I caught up to them just as Lestrange disappeared inside the green flames.

"Bella, wait!"

Startled, she whirled around to face me. "What—Cissy? What do you want?" I saw the floo flames behind her slowly gutter down into cyan cinders.

"I wanted to talk to you."

She laughed. "Seems to me that is the exception in the family, now. Would you like to come through for tea?" Her smile was almost pleasant, like an uncanny simulacrum that was taught etiquette but could not quite grasp the humanness of it; a mocking undercurrent to a grin spread too wide.

"No—Bella, listen!" I grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her down the hall to where the house elf heads hung. I pointed at them like an accusation, even as they stared down on us. I shook her where I still held her upper arm with my other hand "Do you want to end up like this, Bella? Do you want our family to end up like this?"

"What? No, of course not, Cissy; don't be silly," she said as she jerked herself out of my grasp.

"I am not silly, Bella! I am trying to make you see reason! Can't you see what is happening? Did you not read the news? The man you support so openly just declared war on Magical Britain!"

"Maybe that's what Magical Britain needed, sister dear," she replied, as if stating fact.

I stared at her in disbelief, feeling so lost. The hallway was so tall, so dark, and the heads were staring, staring, staring. I was looking at a stranger who looked and talked like my sister. I was looking at a ghost, a female version of the Bloody Baron made flesh again. And maybe her eyes were blank as well, and it was me who was imagining all the emotion in them.

"What… What has become of you, Bella?" I asked quietly.

I saw her mood shift as fast as lighting, and suddenly she was inches away from my face, digging her fingers into my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. "I am what my family made me, ickle Cissy-boo. My father saw fit to marry me to Rodolphus, so I am who I need to be to be a good wife, do you understand?"

Her eyes were wild, pupils wide like the night sky in a sea of purple. Violet. Violent. I shook my head, in disbelief. Or trying to clear it. Or trying to not think.

"And you know what, Cissy-boo? Maybe it's better this way! At least I am cared for where I am now. Maybe it's not me they care about, but what does it matter to me? Father never wanted me, he wanted a pretty face to marry off! Mother never bothered to notice between her tea parties, grandfather was always too busy with you. At least Rodolphus loves me for who I can become!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the words that sunk their little claws into my skin, gouging into my cheeks and into my soul. I felt a tear run from my eye across my cheek, only to come resting against where she still held me.

I felt her slap me, clicking her tongue in annoyance and leaning to whisper in my ear even as pain blossomed across my face. "Do you remember that old crone Hepzibah? The one so fat she could barely move, yet boasted of her illustrious heritage and wealth? Do you know what he told me? He wanted it—wanted the cup. So he murdered her in her sleep and framed her elf for it! All for a trinket! A marriage gift for Rodolphus and me! Do you understand?"

"No, Bella, that's—"

"Of course you don't understand!" she hissed with something that could have been a laugh, had it not been bitter as death. "You were always so full of yourself, your dreams, your ambitions, your perfect little world. He wanted his title so he murdered his family, Cissy-boo. And he wants Britain, so he will murder whoever stands in his way. It's time you opened your eyes to the truth. Maybe if you realise soon enough, you can survive whatever is going to pass. Wake up or die, Narcissa. Marry Malfoy and you might have a chance to live until you're old."

And then she was gone. The walls lit up green, reflecting in the glassy eyes of the elves as they stared down on me from where I stood. I felt my heart breaking for my sister, and for the person she had become.

I raised my hand to my face, to the cheek that was still stinging, wet with tears and a trickle of blood from where her nails dug into my skin. To the edge of my jaw where the cut had ended, once. I wanted to hate her, for choosing Riddle over my family; over me. I wanted to hate her for hurting me, for leaving me, for being the person she was.

I turned and walked past the tapestry, where a gaping black hole stood stark as the moon in the night sky. Next to her, a burn mark where my sister used to be. I could see the tree branches wither and crumble away from her name.

I wanted to hate her.

I walked past the staircase that led up to the drawing room where my family had gathered. I walked past where I knew Harry would be, because I knew he would not, could not understand. I threw powder into the flames and hurled myself through the world, and in that incandescent moment between one hearth and the next, I screamed into the abyss.

I wanted to hate my sister. But deep down, I knew I couldn't.