Chapter 5 - Poignant reminder
The moon had long past the apex in the sky, hiding behind a tall, shadowed building, when Bella decided it was safe enough to leave.
Bella brought her hands down, pushing herself off the large, flat windowsill and onto the floor. She ran her right hand down over her jeans, feeling the protrusion over her pocket which contained the purse that Margaret had gifted her the day prior.
Her heart was pounding through her ears as she tiptoed her way through the room and peaked through the slightly ajar room-adjoining door that contained Lionel and Margaret. It took Bella four times longer than usual to close the door after confirming they were asleep— Bella would not let her shaking hands betray her.
Only when she was safely out of the hotel door, raising a shaking hand, locking it and putting the key in her purse, was her body able to finally relax. She took a deep, gasping breath and leaned against the door.
Bella was giddy with excitement. She brought her hands down and rubbed her tummy, trying earnestly to calm the butterflies swirling inside her.
Today she would get a wand. Today she would be reunited with her magic.
Bella pushed the back of her body in the corner of the elevator, stretching her arms out and grabbing the railings tight after she pushed ground. She had the unfortunate pleasure of experiencing it for the first time the night before— Lionel and Margaret had laughed when they reached their floor and her jelly legs had caused her to land flat on her bum.
Bella walked through the glass doors and onto the street, walking towards a line of black taxis. They walked to a restaurant last night, but Margaret had begged Lionel to hail a taxi back to the hotel after their meal. Lionel begrudgingly agreed. Bella was thankful for Margaret's old legs, otherwise she would have never learned the skill— it was a long walk to her destination.
The man was asleep, the rim of his flat, black cap perched down over his eyes. Bella rasped her knuckles on the front passenger window, starling him awake. He took a moment to gather his bearings, looking around dumbly, then seeing Bella, gestured her in.
"Where are you headed, lass?"
"Charing cross road."
"Number?"
"I'll tell you when to stop."
The dawn had pierced the sky, illuminating the busy roads. Muggles walked purposely towards their jobs on the sidewalks carrying bags and briefcases and the sputtering of engines echoed off the tall buildings, creating a lively atmosphere for such an early hour in the morning.
Gringotts would be her first stop. Bella would need to exchange some of the money Lionel had given her two days ago before she could even think about purchasing wizarding wares. Bella reached down, feeling for her purse in her pocket. The money stored inside had been a gift from Lionel, a going away present— it was to last her all term. Bella had hugged Lionel tightly when she took the money off him, then, horrified, had awkwardly pushed herself off of him. Up until then, it was the biggest flaw in her plan.
Now, she could truly go incognito. At least until she could get a wand and apply some human transfiguration to her face. Bella wasn't terribly worried about being seen— the chances of her running into someone who would recognise her younger self was slim, and the name Bellatrix Lestrange and Death Eater were not synonymous with a fourteen year old girl.
"How old are you, kid?" the driver asked, locking eyes with Bella in the rear view mirror.
"Does it matter?" Bella asked dismissively, breaking their eye contact.
"Nah. just odd, that's all."
Bella didn't think it was odd, but remained silent.
"What're you doing on this dingy old road anyway?" the man asked, as they pulled onto said street.
Bella leant forward and pointed at the shop next to the Leaky Cauldron. "There, stop there."
"That'll be thirty quid, lass," the driver said, pulling up to the kerb.
Bella scoffed, pinching out a ten pound note from her purse. "Thirty quid for a five minute ride?" They had travelled triple that time yesterday for fifteen.
"It's early, lass. You're paying extra for the privilege of using a taxi at an intrusive hour." He held out his palm over his shoulder.
"You'll take ten. You're lucky it's not five." Bella put the note in his outstretched hand. Lionel had only given her two hundred pounds in total, which would barely cover a wand, school robes and a few books from the course list.
"I'll call the Police, then."
"Go ahead," Bella dared. The chances of them finding her were slim to none after today. She would not be bilked by a taxi driver.
The man laughed, motioning with his hand for her to leave. "You drive a hard bargain, kid."
The leaky cauldron was exactly the same as she had remembered it thirty years ago. The dingy pub had a single patron in a brown, shaggy floor length coat sitting on one of the two corner tables. He looked sideways when Bella entered— his long, matted grey hair splitting enough for him to glance a peak at Bella, then stared back at his wooden jug. Bella breathed a sigh of relief when she realised the bar was empty of the barkeep, Tom.
Bella walked to the back alleyway then stopped dead in her tracks. She'd need a wand to get through. She sighed, coming back into the pub and approaching the burly man. His back had slumped even further since she passed, his grey beard surrounding the edges of his beverage. At least Tom wasn't here to potentially recognise her.
Bella cleared her throat next to him. "Excuse me?"
The man grumbled in acknowledgement, refusing to look up from his drink.
"I need some help getting through to Diagon Alley. Would you let me through?"
The man grunted. "You're a witch. Go through yourself."
Bella balled her fists in anger. "I don't have a wand," she replied frustratedly. Perfect. She was on the edge of her freedom and it was being blocked by a sarcastic, derelict hobo.
"What happened to it?" he mumbled.
"I broke it yesterday," Bella said, thinking quickly. "I'm a Muggle-born and live close by. I wanted to get one before the train leaves today for Hogwarts."
The man looked up, staring at Bella for long enough to make her start to get nervous. He muttered something under his breath, rising unsteadily on his feet.
"I suppose you'll be needing help getting through then," he mumbled, leading her to the back alley and running his wand down the bricks. The bricks split and she could see the empty, dimly lit alley. Fog was kissing the surface of the cobblestones making the lights flare from Gringotts in the distance.
"Thanks," Bella said.
The man turned and walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron, mumbling. "Yeah. Don't mention it."
Bella pulled the hood of her jacket up and over her head and bowed as she walked towards Gringotts. Most shops had opened, Bella observed from the corner of her eyes, including the knock off wand shop she would need. Bella trudged up the stairs of the bank and raised her hand to push the large bronze doors open, when a spear was slid in front of her.
"You," a deep, nasally sounding voice of a goblin said from the corner of her eyes. "What's your business here?"
"To use the bank?" Bella replied facetiously.
"Raise your head," he demanded.
Bella sighed, looking up slightly and staring at the armoured goblin. His black filthy eyes scanned her face from behind his long pointed nose. It took every part of her being not to scold it.
"Take your hood off and enter," he said, pushing the door open for her. Bella breathed a sigh of relief.
The large marble hall and its many counters were empty apart from two goblins sitting near the entrance. Bella approached the closest, handing it the muggle money. He never bothered looking up, reaching for a chest beside him and spilling a pile of galleons on the counter in front of her. Bella let out the breath she was holding and scooped them up as fast as she dared without raising suspicion.
The walk towards the wand shop had been largely uninterrupted, apart from Bella stopping at the base of the stairs and glaring at the goblin as she flipped her hood over her head with as much sass as she could muster.
Jimmy Kiddell's Wonderful Wands would be her only option. Bella paused at the door, sending a glance over at Ollivanders. It was a shame, having to buy an inferior wand, but if anyone were to recognise her it would be Ollivander. She couldn't afford a wand from there anyway.
The shop looked largely the same as Ollivanders, with the only difference being the shelves stacked with wand boxes all coloured a drab, natural wood coloured brown. A man with a bright red blazer and a black tophat looked up at her from behind the counter. He looked terribly out of place in the bleak store.
"Welcome to Jimmy Kiddell's Wonderful Wands where we sell wonderful wands and…" he paused, obviously realising his mistake. "...wonderful wands. How can I help you, Miss?"
"I need a wand," Bella said flatly.
"Ahh yes, of course. And what wand would you like?"
"Doesn't the wand pick the witch?" Bella asked, remembering Ollivander's quote from her first wand.
"Well no, not in my experience, it's usually found through trial and error."
"Isn't that just a roundabout way of saying the wand picks the witch?" Bella replied, a frustrated frown adorning her face. Maybe she should take the risk with Ollivanders.
The man's lips curled into a strained smile. "Uhh, yes. Right you are, Miss! Here," he said, grabbing boxes of wands from random shelves and placing ten in front of her. "Try these."
"Don't you need to measure my arm?" Bella asked, opening the first box and peering at the small, straight yew wand nestled inside.
"Oh," he said, fumbling inside his coat and pulling out a tape measure. "Yes yes, of course."
Bella watched him roll the tape out along her arm and stop at eleven inches. "Hmm, yes. eleven inches." he said, placing the lid back on the yew wand and replacing it with another wand off a shelf.
Bella sighed, opening each box and waving each wand around, working her way down the counter. Bella had gone through more than thirty wands before eventually picking up the same yew wand he had moved off the counter after measuring her arm. Bella felt a tingle rush through her body as she picked it up and waved it, red sparks bursting willingly out of the tip and bathing the shop in a red glow. She looked up and smiled at the ceiling, letting the immediate sense of relief course through her body.
"Oh, excellent, excellent," the man said, clapping his hands. "I'm no expert, but I think we found a match!"
"You're supposed to be an expert," Bella growled.
"Right, of course. Simply a figure of speech, Miss."
"What's the core?" Bella asked resignedly.
The man scrutinised the wand in her hand, as if he could see through the wood. He jumped, seeing Bella's eyes glaring at him, then picked up the wand's box from the counter and sheepishly read from the bottom. "Uh yes, of course, just as I predicted. It's a yew, dragon heartstring and… nine inches."
"Six galleons suffice?" Bella asked, hastily chucking the galleons on the counter. She could see the sun starting to shine through the shop windows. Margaret and Lionel would wake soon, and she still had to get her school supplies and school robes.
The man's eyes widened, scooping them in his hands. "More than enough, Miss. Thank you for your services."
Bella left the shop and hurriedly turned back to the shop's glass, finding her reflection. She looked over both shoulders and seeing no one, raised her wand to her face, transfiguring her nose smaller and flatter and hair and eyes brown.
The change was subtle enough that she could recreate it easily. The reflection that stared back at her looked… plain. Even with the small changes, she couldn't recognise herself. It was perfect.
An hour later, a small bag with an extension charm housing school supplies and robes under her arm, Bella thought of a small, shadowed alleyway nestled between the tall hotel's building and the one next to it, the green overstuffed bin at the forefront of her mind. Behind it. With a crack, she disapparated.
Bella hastily checked her limbs— nothing was out of the ordinary.
The alleyway stunk of stale urine and the bin old rotting food. Bella stepped out from behind the bin and sent a furtive glance down both directions of the alley and seeing no one, walked towards the main road in earnest while holding her nose disgustedly.
So her magic worked, and it had nothing to do with her age. The locations she had used magic— Diagon Alley and a filthy alley in downtown London— wouldn't be detected by the Ministry. Now that her muggle address had been registered, no doubt courtesy of Albus Dumbledore, she would be unable to use it there in the future. They would be able to detect magic in a muggle residence where an underage student was registered, where no adult wizard or witch currently resided. Bella laughed to herself, hurriedly joining the muggles who were crossing the lights at a flashing walking symbol and lining up at a busy bakery. It's not like she didn't have practice being a muggle.
Bella had only just ran into the room and cancelled the transfiguration on herself when Margaret walked in through the adjoining door.
"Oh, Bella. There you are, love. We were starting to get worried."
"I got us some food," Bella said, keenly aware of the sweat she could feel on her forehead.
Either Margaret hadn't noticed, or chose to ignore it. "Well aren't you a dear. Everything packed?"
Bella handed the three croissants to Margaret and walked backwards, falling back onto the bed, her eyes suddenly heavy. She hadn't slept all night and it was just now starting to hit her. "Yes, everything's packed," Bella mumbled.
"Don't get too comfortable, Bella."
In the short two hours since Bella had returned to the hotel, grey, gloomy clouds had converged over the sky and were now pelting down rain. Bella sat on the large flat windowsill, listening to the pitter patter of the rain.
Margaret and Lionel had suggested they walk— Bella had looked at them like they had gone mad. Then, seeing their sad faces, Bella had given in. They borrowed three large umbrellas from the hotel, as they were staying another day in London to rest before their trip.
Lionel was struggling, Bella knew, walking along with the wheeled suitcase loudly trudging along behind him, his umbrella in the other hand, but he didn't complain once. They walked through parks, admired the sights, and they sat while Margaret enjoyed a coffee at a local café near King's Cross.
"Did you not sleep well last night, love?" Margaret asked, from behind the cup of coffee poised at her lips.
"Not really," Bella lied.
"Mm…" Margaret mumbled, lowering the coffee from her lips. "Must be the excitement, dear."
It wasn't the excitement, but they would never, ever know that.
"Well, any trouble, don't hesitate to call the landline, alright?" Lionel said, staring pointedly at her. His eyes were questioning, and Bella knew the answer he wanted. They had sat three nights prior, Lionel denying her the telly, until she could repeat it ten times without missing a number. Bella recited the number to Lionel, putting on a strained smile when she was done. They wouldn't hear from her until she returned from term break.
"Happy?" Bella asked, in a faux sarcastic reply.
Lionel smiled. "Happy."
Bella sat back in her chair, observing the comings and goings of the muggles as they moved along, not a care in the world. Muggles were even playing basketball in a basketball court, to Bella's astonishment— they were completely soaked, but looked to be having the time of their lives. A little girl ran from underneath a nearby shelter in the adjacent park and her mother worriedly followed behind her, the husband laughing and clapping at the mother's distress. Three women walked by outside the window, holding bags full of shopping, twirling their umbrellas and gossiping about nothing important. Bella sighed, closing her eyes.
"Look, Bella. We've been meaning to tell you something, but we were worried about what you'd think," Lionel said. Bella opened her eyes and gave him her full attention. Margaret patted Lionel's hand that was resting on the table, then squeezed it.
"Those papers Hedofrd sent?" he asked. Bella nodded. "They were adoption papers. You're technically, officially, a White."
Bella remained silent.
"It was a lot of back and forth, you know… with you not having a last name, a birth certificate or anything. But those visits to the doctor's, that time we went to that fancy office over in Edinburgh? In the end, Hedford vouched for you, said to us he'd sort it out. The birth certificate, the adoption papers… They've all been delivered."
"It's completely up to you, dear," Margaret said, and Bella turned her eyes to her. "We can cancel everything, but just know you'll always have a place with us… whatever your decision."
"Hedford vouched for me?" Bella asked lamely.
"Yeah, he did," Lionel said. "Said it wasn't right for a young girl to be lost and without a home." Lionel motioned out air quotes with his hands. "Said, glad we found a place for cuckoo. I could have throttled him if I wasn't so pleased with him."
Bella laughed weakly, her full throat making it sound hoarse with emotion.
"I 'spose what we're trying to say is… we'll miss you, sweetheart."
Lionel had never used a term of endearment with Bella.
Bella didn't know that to say. She'd take it to her grave, deny she ever did it, but she hastily pulled Lionel from his chair and engulfed him in the tightest hug she could muster. It had happened automatically— before her brain could register her actions. Lionel made a winded noise and winced in mock protest, but wrapped his arms over her back and returned it. Bella gave the same treatment to Margaret, albeit gentler.
These were the two— well, only two— of the nicest muggles she had ever met. Well, Bella met muggles previously, but they had stared at her with lifeless eyes not long after, courtesy of the Dark Lord's many ordered morale boosting 'muggle hunts.'
The Black's had notoriously disliked Mudblood's in wizarding society, which still, even now, sent shivers down Bella's spine thinking about; it was automatic, bred and disciplined into her since birth. But the Black's hadn't hated muggles— well, they certainly weren't liked, they were still filthy, and even with their historic persecution of wizards in the past— time had healed. They were largely kept out of the modern Black conversations— as long as they stayed on their side of the line— choosing to focus on Mudblood's in wizarding society.
It was always at that old, decrepit house of Grimmauld Place; where Bella would usually watch her younger sisters and cousins while the adults talked 'business'— well, until she was old enough to sit in them.
The heads of the Black's would talk— it was only ever talk. They would plan meticulously to revitalise the wizarding world, banning Muggle-born's and their ilk from Wizengamot, schools and shops. Eradicate them— purify the blood of wizardkind.
When the Dark Lord came along and preached their values, they had cowered in fear of his atrocities, seeing the lengths he was willing to go to achieve his goals.
For talking was all they were good for. For what they wanted, this was what had to be done.
Instead, they hid in the shadows, supposedly supporting but never really following.
When they had found out she joined the Dark Lord, they were apprehensive. They said he was a madman, he had lost his sight. His vision was obscured by his greed and power. There were better ways to do it.
Her parents introduced her to Rodolphus, then— a way to distract her from him. He would be her husband. He was pure. By then, he knew she was his. He would touch her, grope her and order her to do despicable things. She hated him, but she did it to keep them happy. If they had known that he had been the one to introduce her to the Dark Lord from Hogwarts— Bella realised too late that she should have told them— they wouldn't have forced her hand.
When the Dark Lord preached to her, ordered her to commit the highest atrocities of wizardkind, murder muggles— she would get drunk in his presence. His power made her knees weak. Power is why Bella had followed him, his power had seduced her and he knew it. She would have done anything for him.
In the end, all it got her was death by his hand. His most loyal servant. Everyone she ever followed had screwed her over. Well, Bella was done following orders and making everyone else happy. And right now, Bella realised, she had not met one nasty muggle during her impromptu stay on the other side of the line. Well, maybe Hedford… even after he helped her.
Bella didn't like muggles, but Margaret and Lionel… they weren't so bad. Maybe the Black's were on to something after all.
"Bella?" Margaret asked, trying to get her attention.
Bella hummed in acknowledgement, idly shifting her gaze between the two in a daze.
Margaret turned her gold watch towards Bella. "It's half ten. If you want to catch that train, we better start walking."
And suddenly Bella was back to reality, the sinking feeling in her tummy weighing her down in her chair, the lower part of her legs tingling along the edge of the uncomfortable metal.
She could stay here, a small voice in her head traitorously thought, stay here and live out her life with the muggles. The Dark Lord would surely take over wizardkind, but even he wasn't stupid enough to wage a war with the entirety of the muggles, only seeking to rule it, scattered muggle killings; to have his hand meticulously controlling it. Her older counterpart could live out her days, murdering and cavorting with the Dark Lord.
No, Bella thought, standing up quickly, so fast her legs and feet flared with pins and needles, her feet uncomfortable to stand on. It was personal now. He killed her. She would kill him— whatever it takes.
"Well; someone's excited," said Lionel, reaching out and extending the handle of Bella's suitcase, the other handing her an umbrella.
The arduous journey they had walked from the hotel to the train station caught up to Bella, her legs burning in protest by the time Bella led them to the main concourse of King's Cross. She stopped suddenly in the middle of it, a muggle man nearly toppling over her as he approached from the side.
"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, not taking his eyes off his watch and walking his way around.
They couldn't come. It would be too hard to explain. Bella cursed under her breath, looking up at a large analogue clock which read ten minutes to eleven.
She turned, staring at the pair and was about to mumble an excuse when Lionel held a hand out, silencing her. He looked over at Margaret, who turned and shared a look with him. "We might just leave you here; we'd hate to make you late." He wheeled over the suitcase, turning it around and placing it in front of Bella's feet.
"Oh, you're sure?" Bella asked, hoping they'd deny her.
"Yes. Go on, dear." Margaret said, raising her hands and shooing her backwards.
Bella grabbed the end of the handle, tilting it towards her and hastily walked towards platform nine and three quarters. At the end of the concourse, she turned, waving at the couple. They waved, Margaret gesturing to the watch on her arm.
Bella ducked into a nook in a secluded hallway, peering over each shoulder, then brandished her wand, pointing it at the suitcase.
"Reducio."
She had bought a trunk, shrunk it and put it in her bottomless bag. She could transfer the contents from her suitcase into the trunk later.
Bella picked up a discarded plastic bottle, holding it in front of her wand, transfiguring it into a mirror. With one last look at herself, after reapplying the disguise to her face, she ran off towards the platform.
The train was whistling madly when she walked through the magical entrance, thick plumes of steam billowing out the chimney as though it was just preparing to leave. Bella dodged a wizard who was holding hands with a child through the window as she jumped over the gap between the train and platform through an open door.
Bella sighed in the entryway, shaking her arm out from the little amount of rain that had fallen on her, looking down the corridor and seeing students bustling about and hugging friends they had been kept apart from over the holidays.
The train slowly inched forward, pulling away from the station. Her fate was now sealed— no longer able to hide in the darkness.
Hogwarts, here she comes.