Chapter 53: The Victim Statement
Scratching of a busy quill... Tapping of an irate shoe... Occasional rustle of pages...
The noises sounded particularly conspicuous in the otherwise silent space, the never used Grotto House's dining room, where Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger waited for Bellatrix Lestrange to show up for her post-accident interview.
Hermione submitted her statement, the memory of Rabastan Lestrange's death, and her wand on the day of the accident. Her wand, along with the official DMLE letter certifying her actions as within-the-law, was returned several days later.
Bellatrix's interview was just a formality dictated by DMLE investigative rules both wizards insisted. There was no good way to question that.
So there they all were.
The faint sounds from the hallway formed into the approaching steps, slow and uneven.
The Minister pushed the newspaper to the side.
The election was drawing close. Its results were not as certain as he would have liked. The reshuffle of Wizengamot seats, the rumors of new Marriage Law amendments he wasn't privy to, the Voldemort's inner circle on the loose, were the biggest but hardly the only issues on his plate. Thankfully the two uniquely his projects, Reconstruction Commission and Marriage Initiative Commission, were consistently efficient and viewed positively by the public. Though, some things, even about those, his team had to keep on the need-to-know basis to avoid unrest.
The Minister was hopeful about the visit. The crazy and impulsive witch was bound to assist him, one way or the other. Intentionally, or not.
And, if the Minister was honest, he was curious. Miss Granger managed to endure the association with the notorious Death Eater just to spite the Ministry, and stay in one opinionated piece, too. He wanted to see how that was possible.
Harry stilled his bouncing knee.
This interview was as much Bellatrix's evaluation as it was Harry's. After the events on the Grotto island, after learning of Harry's theories, the Minister pushed for Harry's inclusion to a more consequential activities. There were talks about his promotion from the trainee status to a full vetted auror as early as next year. With the normal training period of three years, that would be a huge jump. For the training period to be cut short, among other things, Harry had to prove his mental fortitude, his ability to stay in control despite provocations, his ability to independently prioritize his duties above other things.
The questioning of his Godfather's killer in the presence of his best friend felt like an unfair NEWT-level evaluation... when he didn't even test out of the OWLs.
Harry grinned sheepishly when he caught Hermione's eye.
His hand left his wand holster.
It proved beyond Hermione's ability to confiscate the wands from either wizard. Instead, they compromised. The signatories understood the property wards' unpredictable, and potentially fatal, behavior in cases of aggression towards the estate's rightful inhabitants said the two signed and dated parchments in Hermione's possession.
Hermione sighed.
Bellatrix was not in the room yet, and Harry's hand was already drifting to his wand. The papers would be a flimsy defense at best if either of famous wizards was killed by the retaliating wards.
Hermione listened to the uneven steps guiltily.
She stuck to the letter of the healer's instruction. Being awake was just one of the indicators. The point of the instruction was to avoid unnecessary magical interference. She could have administered Skele Gro the previous evening. But Bellatrix was playing dead, and Hermione wasn't amused. For many reasons. The pretence was just the last straw.
Seeing the wizards while recovering in bed should have been a lesson.
Instead, Bellatrix took the potion, instructed Hermione to find a room free of beds for the meeting, then demanded to see Narcissa.
Hermione rubbed her aching head.
At least the kiss was interesting... Hermione wasn't sure whether it was good interesting or bad interesting... but it was something.
It was exactly how Hermione expected the dark witch to kiss. Exactly the opposite of how Bellatrix actually kissed the one time they kissed before. Fiery and prickly. Teeth, and nails, and tugs of hair. Hermione's heart beat in her ears, in fright or in interest, she wasn't sure. And it ended as abruptly as it started.
Then Bellatrix asked what she asked. Hermione answered what she answered.
And just like that the kiss became the last of their issues.
Bellatrix paused a few feet away from the dining room doors.
Skele-gro was still working on her injuries. The half-healed bones sent pinpricks of pain with every move. It was nice, if painful, to know the girl was not made of pure righteousness.
She looked behind her.
Narcissa observed her from the bottom of the stairs, ready to come to further assistance.
Bellatrix scowled. She was getting fed up with being weak and helpless. She would rather bare the girl's vindictiveness than Narcissa's careful looks. She wondered just how much the smart witch figured out by now, just how offended and disgusted she was.
After Narcissa was fairly certain, as certain as Bellatrix's skill with occlumency was able to provide, that Rabastan Lestrange didn't take too many liberties with her unconscious body, Narcissa recovered a good deal of her composure and was full of alarming information and unsolicited advice.
Bella… do try not to bite Miss Granger's head off… of course she'd have questions… poor girl cares about you... ..she had to help the healer, quite a gruesome affair I hear… not to mention saving you in the first place…
Narcissa was mostly wrong, as was usual where Bellatrix personal life was concerned. Still, Bellatrix would take her advice. If she wasn't in the Ministry dungeons by the end of this interview.
Bellatrix stepped inside the room.
The last living Shacklebolt and her Lord's killer sat facing the doors at the near end of the dining table. The girl was at the far end of the table surrounded by books and parchments.
Their eyes met for a brief moment.
..Was that enough? The torture. Was that enough, spawn? Do you wish you held his wand?
..You are unbelievable! I killed for you… Don't know why I bothered…
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at the wizards. The boy's hand twitched, likely on instinct to go for his wand. The pointed look from the girl halted his move. Bellatrix bit back a cackle.
Dungeons or not, this chat was almost a welcome variation from her usual company.
The temperature seemingly dropped in the room when the black-clad witch stepped into it.
Her dress long, black, and in an unusually conservative cut. Her makeup, nails, and hair were intentionally understated. Her eyes guarded.
'Holy Potter,' Bellatrix walked slowly, as if she wasn't an hour late, 'and his new… Master.'
'You would know all about masters wouldn't you, Lestrange?' Harry snapped back.
Bellatrix shot a dark look at Hermione.
Hermione blinked back in confusion.
'Potter,' The Minister's rumble halted whatever Harry wanted to add.
Everyone, but Bellatrix, jumped when an elf appeared.
'Refreshments. For those who are welcome.' Bellatrix gave another dark look at Hermione. 'And light the fire.'
The fireplace came to life and the creature disappeared with another loud pop.
A glass of milk and chocolates appeared in front of Bellatrix.
A shot of whiskey was suddenly in front of Hermione.
Harry sent his friend a questioning look.
Hermione sighed.
Bellatrix smirked.
Despite Hermione's hopes, Harry's best intentions, and Kingsley's vast experience in keeping interrogations on track, that very first exchange set the mood, and the direction, of the conversation for some time.
Bellatrix didn't initiate the contentious topics, but, given an opening, took to them with passion.
She shared candidly her opinions on Dumbledore, '..scheming self-serving fool who should've never had access to magical children...', and on Sirius, '..spineless sadistic embarrassment to the Black name… ..she waited too long to put down...', and on a few others; and she occluded heavily when confronted with Voldemort's death and the Death Eaters' loss of both wars.
Half an hour in, Harry's face was covered by splotchy angry flush; the Minister's mouth developed a noticeable tic; and the delicate dress material over Bellatrix's left forearm spotted a few tiny rips.
Hermione didn't interfere, pretended not to listen, and ignored imploring looks from the wizards. Narcissa's settlement with DMLE prevented the Ministry employees' access to Bellatrix without independent supervision. With Narcissa being under the weather, Hermione was it. She wasn't there to help aurors to interview Bellatrix.
The back and forth of personal grievances gave way to the actual questions eventually.
Rabastan Lestrange ability to access the island... His fixation on Bellatrix rather than Hermione... Bellatrix's awareness of his survival prior to November 12th afternoon... Bellatrix's knowledge of any other Death Eater survival and their safe locations... Bellatrix's knowledge of the curse she suffered and its counter...
Bellatrix was universally unhelpful, often amused, and, on occasion, openly bored. She sipped her milk, fiddled with Hermione's ring, and missed no opportunity to get a rise out of either wizard.
Bellatrix blamed magic, and her dead father, for Rabastan's access to the island.
She blamed Rodolphus' clumsiness, and the aurors' poor reporting skills, for the misperception of his purely accidental death, and for Rabastan's resulting animosity towards her.
And she blamed the Ministry, and the Daily Prophet, for her complete ignorance about her old associates' survival.
The ministry part made Harry shoot a pointed look at the Minister.
The Minister's lip tic became even more pronounced at that.
The questions started to repeat themselves, and so did Bellatrix's answers.
The end of the potentially volatile chat appeared to be in sight, and without any major issues.
Until it wasn't.
'Describe the events of the afternoon of November 12th, of this year.'
The query, despite it being the supposedly main reason for the meeting, was new.
'Whatever Granger-' A twirl of black curl around freshly manicured finger, '..whatever my wife said happened, happened.'
'Care to describe in your own words?'
Another twirl of the curl... a lazy hum... a wide-eyed look...
'I don't remember?'
A disbelieving snort... a warning look... a low rumble of another's voice...
'Are you asking or saying, Madam Lestrange?'
An exaggerated frown... a pout... another slow hum... another slow twist of the black hair...
'Saying'
The voice rose at the end of a singular word… just enough to suggest a question as much as a statement.
Wood slammed on wood as Harry's chair flew a few feet away from the table.
'Potter, sit down!'
'This is a bloody waste of time, sir! She is laughing at us! I bet she knows more. About the Azkaban break out. About the curse. About everything! Good aurors died from that curse! Died fighting monsters like her! She should have died, sir! You should have died!'
Occasionally, Harry wondered about the new version of Voldemort's most faithful. The version shared space with his best friend for almost four months without major issues. The version managed to win some of Hermione's regard. He didn't see anything new. The witch was as vile as always.
Bellatrix hummed.
'And yet here I am'
Harry glowered.
He had his wand out ready to cast.
'Harry, stop!' Hermione jumped up.
'Put away your wand, Auror Potter.'
Harry turned even angrier shade of red. But, slowly, he complied.
The wand was almost out of sight.
'Yes yes do as you're told, baby Potter,' added Bellatrix.
Half a curse was out of Harry's mouth before the Minister's oscausi rendered him mouthless.
The glass next to Bellatrix's hand shattered. The last of milk splashed on the table. Thin line of blood swelled along the top of her hand.
Everyone froze.
The smell of ozone soaked the air. The Minister's Protego set over Harry. The hair, on the heads that had any, lifted and crackled.
When nothing else happened, the Minister let the shield dissipate.
Harry slowly retrieved his chair.
'You should have died,' Harry repeated sullenly.
'Enough, Potter!' The Minister focused on Bellatrix. 'You will submit the memories of that afternoon.'
Bellatrix glanced at Hermione, but the younger witch wasn't looking at her.
'Since I don't remember, there is nothing to submit'
'Will you state the same under the truth serum?'
'No! I'm tired, I don't remember, and I won't volunteer for an interrogation,' Bellatrix repeated stubbornly.
'We can compel you, Madame Lestrange. You are under DMLE authority. Regardless of how this house arrest sentence came about. Regardless of the St. Mungo's settlement limitations, either.'
Bellatrix glared at the table, and picked at the cut on her hand.
'I will not volunteer' she muttered to the table.
'Potter, get-'
'Do you threaten to drug all the victims?!'
Three sets of startled eyes looked at Hermione.
'If Bellatrix doesn't remember then she doesn't remember. This is not an interrogation, but an interview.' Hermione looked unhappily at both wizards in turn. 'Unless it is. Interrogation, I mean. If so, Solicitor Nightshade must be present, not me.'
And Hermione wasn't done.
'Bellatrix is not an assailant but a victim.'
Bellatrix scowled at Hermione darkly at that.
'You have my memories. You witnessed the aftermath. Unless there is doubt in the integrity of my recollections, or yours, this meeting serves no purpose but intimidation. So I suggest we conclude it?'
Hermione ended her little speech in a question. Much to her surprise the Minister nodded.
'You are correct, Miss Granger, if you could please see us out...'
Bellatrix let the three to leave the room first and followed.
End of Chapter 53
A/N: Just a heads up, ffn has been loosing functionality for me. If at some point it would become too much hustle to post here, I'm also on AO3. I plan to post on ffn as long as it is doable, though. :)