CHAPTER 39: THE DARING ESCAPE

As frost slowly inched its way up the stone walls, a delicate, translucent veil curled around Bella's bare feet, shimmering beneath the gentle half-moon's glow. Her every exhale materialized into a visible mist, and goosebumps pricked her skin, sending shivers racing down her arms. An elusive shadow danced along the iron bars of her prison cell, and an undeniable chill coursed through her veins.

"Cissy's going to let out a scream," Bella muttered, a profound sense of desolation slowly welling up within her, enveloping her like a shroud of inky darkness. With a long, drawn-out breath, she exhaled a pale cloud into the room, allowing her sister's potential cry to reverberate in her ears. "Poor Cissy," she added, a hint of eerie amusement coloring her voice. "Poor us, Bell."

"Certainly, poor us, Bella," she reflected, swiping her hand across the frosted, gleaming wall and gazing into the hazy violet reflection in her eyes. "Cissy is out there, enjoying herself without us. Andi too."

Suddenly, the cell's door quivered, and then, as if dissolving like a candle's melting wax, it flowed onto the floor, resembling spilled liquid, as dark as ink in the moonlight filtering through the window. Bella sprang across the room and knelt down, her fingers gingerly dipping into the strange substance, only to be met with a piercing, bittersweet sensation that surged up her arm, akin to honey melting on her tongue.

"Ouch," she exclaimed, her lips curling into a pout. "It's hot."

"Bella," a gentle, cool whisper beckoned, caressing her ears with an otherworldly tenderness. "Aren't you tired of being confined in here?"

A giggle escaped her lips. "Yes, my lord," she replied, surrendering to the thrilling promise of an imminent escape.

Crimson eyes slowly unveiled in the doorway, framed by dark robes that gathered gracefully beneath the slitted pupils, swirling together like thick, black smoke caught in a gentle breeze. Emerging from the shadows, a long-fingered, pale-skinned hand reached out. "Time to go, then," the commanding voice declared.

"Time to play," Bella sang eagerly, extending her arm without hesitation.

The tip of the Dark Lord's wand traced the ink serpent beneath her skin; it writhed and stung, followed by a soft snap, and just like that, the boundaries of her room vanished.

A motley group of ragged-robed, disheveled individuals stumbled and staggered across a polished marble floor. The moonlight cascaded through a circular, domed window at the center of the frescoed ceiling, casting a cold, clear radiance upon them.

"They all need a bath," Bella thought to herself, raising an arm and sniffing her armpit. "We need a bath, too, Bell."

A thick-bearded, gaunt man turned to her and spoke, "Lestrange. You're looking surprisingly good. I see what Rookwood meant. Fancy spending some time?"

A surge of heat ignited beneath Bella's skin. A ripple of magic flashed from her, hurling the man across the floor; he skidded into the wall and curled into a ball.

"Bella," the Dark Lord murmured. "We don't cast aside our own pieces, do we?"

"No," she pouted, sticking her finger out at the crumpled figure. "But they weren't looking at me very nicely, so it's their fault."

Silk whispered across the floor behind her, and a faint warmth caressed her skin. A rich, near-black, purple silk dress swathed her form.

"A new dress," the Dark Lord commented as he stepped into the center of the moonlight's beam, sliding his wand back into his sleeve. "To prevent any further missteps by your comrades."

The group formed a ragged circle around him, displaying trembling limbs and vacant, glazed eyes. They encircled the Dark Lord, his crimson gaze and slender, pale figure dominating the scene.

"There are no comrades here, Bell," Bella mused internally. "Only other players. One better, the rest worse."

"Thank you, my lord," Bella said, admiring the dress's cut and fit. "It's quite pretty."

The Dark Lord paused and extended one open palm. "Not as beautiful as these must seem to all of you."

Wands materialized in the air above his fingers, sparking with silver, green, blue, red, and yellow as they returned to their rightful owners. Beneath the frescoed ceiling, low cries, gasps, and sobs filled the air. A familiar dark, curved wand slapped back into Bella's palm, its faint heat meeting her skin.

"Now we're ready to play, Bell," she whispered, slipping her wand through the waist of her dress. "Almost ready, Bella. We've grown weaker in there. Not our magic, not our vessel, but our touch has rusted."

"Severus has brewed several restorative potions for all of you," the Dark Lord stated. "But you all deserve more than that. Unlike other, weaker wizards and witches, you remained loyal. Yes, you failed me, but you stood by your word." He spun around, his thin lips curling into a cold grin. "And now that I am back, you are free, and we can start anew."

Whispers cascaded through the circle, gradually building into a subdued roar.

Bella chuckled softly under her breath. "The game begins."

The Dark Lord raised his hand. "Go, all of you, except Augustus, Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Bella. There are empty rooms aplenty here. Rest. Regain your strength, my faithful followers, and wash the chill of Azkaban from your souls."

The circle shuffled away into the shadows, and three figures approached.

The Dark Lord's crimson gaze passed over them. "I am disappointed in the three of you."

The strange boy and his brother shrank back, apprehension written across their faces.

The other follower grimaced. "What about Bella, my lord? She failed too!"

"Bella's instructions were crystal clear," the Dark Lord replied, his tone growing sharper. "She was meant to create chaos and death sufficient to obscure the importance of the child's fate. You, on the other hand, were supposed to end the Longbottom child's life, not indulge in tormenting his family. The boy yet lives, though it matters little now. I care not for your methods, my loyal servants, but if they hinder my goals, you will face my wrath."

"Apologies, my lord," the strange boy bowed deeply. "We got carried away in our victory."

"And what was the taste of the past thirteen years of 'victory,' Rodolphus?" The Dark Lord's wand slid from his sleeve. "Was it sweet?"

Rodolphus shook his head vehemently, the cracking of bones audible. "No, my lord. We won't fail again."

"See to it that you don't," the Dark Lord warned. He gestured with his wand, and shiny metal flowed from its tip like ink from a quill's nib, hovering before finally shaping into three rune-engraved silver masks. "Rabastan and Rodolphus, take your masks and go. You failed, but your loyalty remained unwavering, and you never denounced me, despite threats and torment. Your place at my side and the rewards I promised are still attainable." The masks shimmered like a mirage in a desert's scorching heat. "Provided you do not fail again."

The strange boy and his brother swiftly seized the silver masks from the air and hastened into the dark corridor.

"My lord?" Augustus's voice quivered. "I have never betrayed you, my lord."

"No, Augustus. I seek answers from you—answers I should have sought from you earlier," the Dark Lord declared. His wand tip hovered before the figure's forehead. "Answers you should have brought to me before."

"I have no secrets from you, my lord," Augustus mumbled.

The Dark Lord's wand vanished into his sleeve, leaving the silver mask suspended in the air, resembling a butterfly pinned to white parchment. "Tell me then, Augustus. The Department of Mysteries and the Hall of Prophecies within, how are they protected?"

"To the best of my knowledge, there are relatively few defenses," Rookwood ventured, stepping into the moonlight. His adam's apple bobbed like a fishing lure on river ripples. "One can access the department as long as they can infiltrate the Ministry, a task made easy for someone with the right connections. Malfoy must possess such connections."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed. "I did not ask for a plan, Augustus, only information about the magical defenses surrounding my prize."

"I apologize, my lord," Rookwood stammered. "It's just...that place."

"Focus," the Dark Lord commanded, his eyes emanating a soft, hypnotic red glow.

Rookwood continued, "The door is heavily warded, but deactivating a few key wards renders it vulnerable to potent destructive magics like fiendfyre. There's an enchantment on the corridor beyond it, the exact nature of which I do not know; it involves the torches and traps you in a perpetual circular path if you don't break it." He shuddered. "They are more concerned with keeping intruders out, my lord. The artifacts inside are considered so perilous that they require little defense, but I'm certain there are wards to safeguard against tampering." He darted his gaze from side to side and licked his lips. "Prophecies can only be seized by the hand of the person they pertain to, my lord. I fear it would be beyond anyone but you to manipulate that particular piece of magic."

Bella interjected with a huff, "I could do it."

"We most certainly could, Bella," she replied, confidence in her voice.

Rookwood's lip curled as he retorted, "A mad witch like you? You have no comprehension of the subtleties within the Department of Mysteries."

Bella's blood surged with anger, and she retaliated by sending a shimmering wave of air that collided with a brilliant silver shield, composed of countless slithering serpents.

"Bella," the Dark Lord admonished, his voice firm. "Behave."

The shield promptly dissipated. Bella sighed, somewhat disappointed. "Awww... it was rather pretty."

The Dark Lord then addressed Augustus, saying, "And Augustus, do not be foolish enough to underestimate Bella. I have no other follower as valuable as she is. It will be her privilege to retrieve the prophecy for me. Take your mask, Augustus. You have three days to rest, and then you will seek out Lucius and assist him in infiltrating the department. Make sure you inform Lucius that Bella will accompany him when the time comes. I will personally inspect the wards on the doorway and instruct you on the best way to dismantle them."

Rookwood swallowed hard. "Yes, my lord." He bowed deeply, seized his silver mask, and hastily departed.

The Dark Lord extended his hand to gently cup Bella's cheek, his red eyes scanning her with a hint of curiosity. "Bella, you have fared remarkably well. I had concerns that Azkaban's wards and the absence of magic might have harmed you."

Bella pouted in response. "I don't succumb to old walls and silly wards, my lord."

"It appears not," the Dark Lord conceded, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Now, go and rest, Bella. You won't be needing a mask. You've made no vows, after all."

As Bella made her way through the moonlit corridor, she contemplated their intricate game, wondering if the Dark Lord might falter, and what would happen if he did. "So long as you're better than me, you get to make the rules," she thought. Bella scanned the alcoves for an empty room, stopping at a chamber with a broad bed and tall, dark cupboards. "Which will be a shame," she mused, "it's fun to watch him win."

"But whoever beats him will be fun to watch, too, Bell," she reasoned. Bella smoothed down her dress and examined the duvet on the bed. "Nope, I'm not sleepy."

She and her inner voice considered visiting Cissy and Andi, but Bella knew they should tidy up first to avoid teasing from Andi. Bella wielded her wand, casting spells to cleanse her skin, restore the whiteness of her teeth, and maintain her appearance. She admired her dark hair's lustrous sheen and decided to trim it to shoulder-length. Faint crow's feet were visible around her eyes, but she chose not to worry about them. "I'm a weird sister," she sang to herself as she gazed in the mirror, the phrase a reassuring mantra.

"That'll do," Bella said, pausing with her wand halfway back to her waist. "Boots, Bella. We need boots, can't go about barefoot. We might slip." In her mind's eye, she saw a balustrade drifting out of reach. "And fall, Bell. We might fall." The memory of Cissy's scream momentarily surfaced, but Bella quickly pushed it aside. "Forget that, Bella."

Bella transfigured an ornate vase into knee-high leather boots and gleefully slid her feet into them. "It's a perfect fit, Bell!" Bella giggled and tucked her wand back into her dress's girdle. "Let's go see Cissy!"

With her sister in mind, she pictured the polished wood beams of Cissy's bedroom, the delicate silver sculptures of flowers on the shelves, and the massive bed with its mountain of pillows. Her magic whisked her away.

Bella twirled around on the polished wood. "Huh, it looks just the same, Bell!"

"Bellatrix..." Cissy's voice came from the door, and she stared at Bella with wide eyes. "You look almost the same."

Bella cocked her head. "No, we don't. This is a new dress. The Dark Lord gifted it to us."

Cissy moved forward, shutting the door behind her and casting a quick ward. "Why are you here, Bellatrix?"

A faint heat coursed through Bella's veins. "Bella. We're Bella." She huffed and stamped her foot. "We wanted to see our sister. We wanted to play together. It's been ages!"

Cissy pinched the bridge of her nose and took another step closer. Beneath the fading charms, dark bags hung under her eyes, and deep lines marred her brow. "I don't want to be involved in any of that, Bella. And I don't want Draco caught up in it either. It's not worth it."

Bella sighed as a wave of sadness washed over her. "Pretty little Cissy's a beautiful butterfly in a gilded silver cage, Bella. She's grown all old and boring, Bell. She used to be so happy and bright and fun. We'll have to make her fun again."

Bella pouted. "Fine. We'll go find Andi. Andi always plays with us."

Cissy looked at her with big, blue eyes. "Andi's gone, Bella. She ran off with some Muggleborn, remember? Mother and Father were very upset. Very."

Bella's anger flared. "A Mudblood!" She balled her fingers into fists. "But they're so boring! They can't do anything, they're just sticks and clay, no bright lights or pretty colors, just bleating lumps of blood and flesh."

Well, she did," Cissy responded, her voice quivering. "And she didn't want to see either of us again."

Bella pushed down the anger bubbling inside her. "She's being silly. I'll find her and convince her to come back and be with us. We're her sisters. She's supposed to be here, not wasting time with some useless Mudblood. What could it even do? They know nothing about anything, and they're as helpless as tadpoles in a dried puddle."

Cissy sighed, resigned. "I suppose if I told you not to, you'd just ignore me."

Bella giggled mischievously. "Of course, itty bitty baby Cissy. Andi's got to come back to us." Her fingers inched toward her wand, quivering with the heat coursing through her blood. The soft glow of her violet eyes intensified, reflecting off Cissy's silver sculptures. "I'll just get rid of the stupid Mudblood, and then Andi has to come back and play with us."

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