Unless I'm mistaken, this chapter and the next will both be amongst the shortest chapters I have ever written. Probably not a good thing, but at least the ending of the next on is interesting enough . . .

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Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.

The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.


Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate

The Blackest of Nights

VI. Words Unspoken

Dark, tattered robes forced through the relentless wind. Harry watched as the creature sank to the ground, a decayed hand reaching from beneath its cloak -

Dementors.

Snow covered the grounds of Hogwarts. Through the stained glass windows, the earthly soil glowed like rainbows. But a harsh, vengeful storm thundered outside, and sleet rained relentlessly against the school grounds.

All because of the Dementors.

Something clattered against the plate beside him. Harry turned to the side. Daphne was piling eggs onto her plate, her eyes glancing over him uncertainly. She slowly set her fork down, turning to face him.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Just thinking."

Dark, tattered robes wrapped around her body. She rose to her full height, her scarlet eyes boring into his own - but his wand slashed across his chest, and the woman ceased to exist . . .

Harry crooked his head, glancing around. The Great Hall was bustling with life; hundreds of students chatted amongst each other, each enjoying their second Saturday back at Hogwarts. Owls soared overhead, occasionally landing neatly before an unsuspecting student. Harry watched as an old grey owl crashed into the Gryffindor table, sending racks of toast flying through the air.

"Damn it, Errol." one of the Weasley twins swore. The owl slowly pushed itself to its feet, hopping almost drunkenly towards the red-headed boy.

Harry looked away. Emerald orbs landed on the plate before him. It was barren, as was the goblet beside it. Harry wasn't particularly hungry, but he felt a pair of deep, icy eyes pressing against the side of his skull. Sighing, Harry reached towards the toast rack nearest him.

It's empty.

Harry frowned. He glanced at Daphne, but the girl had already looked away. Soft, gentle fingers wrapped around as he pulled it from his pocket, slashing it subtly against his chest.

A piece of bread pattered against his plate. Butter already covered it, spread neatly upon its surface.

It isn't toasted.

Harry flicked his wand again. Heat flared against his finger tips, and the bread wilted slightly. Harry watched as the edges burnt away, his eyes narrowing as the toast took a rather familiar form.

It was shaped like a woman. Bits of the toast were missing, having been burnt off. An almost three-dimensional portrait sat before Harry, staring back at him almost tauntingly. It wasn't particularly detailed - Harry was grateful for that - but there was no one else she might be.

Emily.

"That's her, isn't it?" said a quiet voice to his side, "Lady Voldemort."

Harry turned. Daphne traced the toast with her eyes, the ends of her lips sinking. Her fingers stretched towards it, pushing the bread to the side of Harry's plate.

"She's beautiful."

Harry glanced at the bread. He tore a piece away, squishing it between his fingers.

"It's bread." he muttered, popping it into his mouth, "It's not exactly accurate."

Her nose is straighter. Her lips are softer, and her eyes are brighter -

"Your Boggart, right?"

Harry nodded slowly. He watched as Daphne raised a fork to her mouth, neatly swallowing the scrambled eggs speared upon it. She pressed a napkin against her lip, running her fingers through her hair. Strands of braided blonde hair were tucked behind the back of her ear, and she turned to him.

"I was right about mine, too." she whispered, "Death. Loss. All that."

Daphne stabbed at her eggs, her eyes blank. Harry frowned once more.

"Astoria?"

Daphne nodded. Her head tilted to the side, and her icy eyes bored into his own.

"And Tracey." Daphne's fingers pressed tightly against the table, the back of her hand a pale white, "And you."

Harry paused. The toast fell from his hands, and his goblet fell on its side. Daphne stared back at him, her hands snaking towards his own.

"I don't know what happened at the end of last year." she murmured quietly, "I barely know what happened the year before, either. I don't need to. All I know is it involved her."

Harry felt her fingers interlock with his. He gently pressed his thumb against hers.

"You need to be careful, Harry." whispered Daphne, her eyes glistening, "Especially with Bellatrix Lestrange on the loose. Promise me."

His lips parted, his grasp on her hand tightening.

"I promise."

-(xXx)-

Nothing.

Harry pressed the book shut, his lips shrinking to a thin line as his gaze narrowed. He jabbed his fingers against the edge of the book, watching as it slid away from him across the length of the table.

"'Silence: A Disquisition on Nonverbal Magicks.'" Nott read aloud, his head tilted to the side, "Is it as fun as it sounds?"

"I wish." Harry murmured, "It's absolute rubbish."

Nott's brows rose. He pulled the book towards him, flipping the cover open. Dark eyes roamed across the page, and a slight frown marred his features.

"Why are you reading this, anyway?"

Harry shrugged, pulling another book out from the large stack beside him.

"I'm curious." he muttered, his fingers sliding across the book's glossy cover, "I'm trying to figure out how Nonverbal magic works."

"And this thing didn't have it?" Nott held the first book up. It shook in the air, nearly falling from his grasp.

"It was an analysis." Harry explained quietly, "Not an explanation. I need an explanation."

Otherwise I'll never make heads or tails of what it is I'm doing.

Nott dropped the book back upon the table. His fingers curled up, wrapping around a quill by his side. The boy gently dipped it in a bottle of ink, lowering it to the thick sheet of parchment that sat before him. Harry watched as his hand flew across the paper.

"You've been working on that for a while." he noted, "Is that Snape's essay?"

Nott chuckled darkly.

"I wish." he muttered, dipping his quill in ink, "It's for Hagrid."

Harry frowned. His eyes traced the edge of the paper, scanning over the words born in Nott's writing. He watched idly as Nott muttered beneath his breath, ferociously dotting his i's and crossing his t's.

"Why are you writing an essay about Flobberworms?"

"Because Malfoy," Nott spat, his quill stabbing at the parchment, "thought it would be a lovely idea to get attacked by a Hippogriff."

Right.

"So Hagrid's gotten stage fright or something, then?" asked Harry slowly.

"'Or something', I suppose." Nott's voice lowered, a hint of suspicion flourishing within it, "I wouldn't put it past Draco to have gone crying to his father. I reckon Hagrid doesn't want to get in any more trouble."

Harry sighed, a hand pressing against the side of his head. Malfoy had been lounging across the school for nearly a week now, moaning incessantly about his arm. Even now, it was covered in bandages; Harry doubted there was so much as a scratch beneath them.

I've had worse, and Madam Pomfrey's patched me up just fine.

"I bet you anything he'll drop the act by the time Quidditch rolls around." added Nott, returning his gaze to his paper, "His arm'll probably heal overnight."

"He's on the Quidditch team, isn't he?" asked Harry.

Nott nodded.

"His father got him on." he murmured, "Bought the team new brooms and everything."

Of course he did.

"But nevermind him." said Nott, looking up again, "We've got better things to talk about."

"Like?"

"Like," Nott reached across the table, pulling the oversized book from before back towards him, "'Silence: A Disquisition on Nonverbal -"

"Oh, shut up."

Nott chuckled, pushing the book aside.

"But what's with the sudden interest?" he asked curiously, "Has it got to do with whatever was wrong with your room?"

Harry frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. He watched as Nott lowered his quill, pushing his essay aside.

"I went to get you earlier," Nott explained, "but the door wouldn't budge. I couldn't get in."

Oh.

Harry slowly shook his head.

"I added Wards." His voice dropped as he leaned in slightly, "To stop people from getting into my room without my permission."

"Who, Malfoy?"

"People in general." Harry paused, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, "But Crabbe and Goyle used to sneak into my room last year, so I suppose that's close enough."

"Were they just snooping around, or did they actually take something?"

The faint outline of a tattered black diary hovered before Harry's mind, spinning almost tauntingly towards him -

"Just some notebook."

"The one you used to have with you all the time?" whispered Nott, "Back in our first year, I mean."

Harry frowned. The edges of his lips crept apart, and his eyebrows slowly scrunched together -

Emily's notebook. The one from Flourish and Blotts.

He hadn't seen it in a while. Harry was sure it lay somewhere in his dorm, perhaps hidden beneath his bed or within one of his drawers. He slowly shook his head, his teeth grit firmly together.

"No. Just a random one, I guess."

Nott snorted, dipping his quill in ink as he pulled his essay back towards him.

"Malfoy might just have wanted an autograph." he said quietly, "A notebook of yours is a great place to start."

Harry chuckled half-heartedly, pushing a second book aside.

"I'll add Daphne to the wards though." he added, "And you, if you ask nicely enough."

Nott quickly jotted another line down before pushing his essay further from the edge of the table.

"I'll think about it." he decided eventually, looking up, "Where is Daphne, anyway?"

"With her sister. She wanted to talk to her about something."

Nott nodded, returning his gaze to his essay. Harry turned to the stack of books beside him. A slight groan escaped his parted lips.

"You can just ask someone, you know." Nott suggested indifferently.

Harry snorted.

"I reckon I've said that to you about a dozen times -"

"But I'm not you." Nott reminded him, "You're the boy-who-lived, remember? People will be falling out of their seats to help you."

Harry glanced around the quiet library. There were only a few students nearby. All of them seemed lost in the books that sat before them, completely unaware of the true world that surrounded them.

"You know, for some reason I doubt that."

But Nott merely chuckled, returning to his essay. Groaning, Harry pushed himself to his feet. His fingers curved into an admittedly rude hand gesture, which he shoved before Nott's face.

"Have fun." said Nott, a cheesy grin on his face, "You could use some socializing. Tell me what it's like, won't you?"

"Shut up."

Harry walked across the length of the aisle, his feet pressing softly against the aged rugs. A large oak table grew larger with every step he took; three Ravenclaw girls sat around it, all pouring over a book Harry didn't recognize. They were all much older than him, too - sixth years, at the very least.

I'm going to kill Nott.

"Excuse me?"

The girls turned. Harry frowned as their eyes momentarily widened, jumping to his scar and back. One of them - a brown-haired girl adorned with a silvery Head Girl badge - nodded, her lips parting slightly.

"Do you need something?"

"Er - yes." Harry managed, "I was wondering if you could explain Nonverbal Magic? Like how it works, I mean."

The Head Girl turned to her friends. A giggle escaped one of their lips - a blonde girl, one with soft grey eyes and a long, thin nose - and the first girl turned back to him, smiling kindly.

"Doing a bit of early studying, then?" she asked.

"Just curious."

"That's great to hear." The girl rose to her feet, pulling her wand from her robes, "The basis of Nonverbal Magic is similar to how we normally use magic -"

"I know the theory." interjected Harry, "I meant the process. When you use Nonverbal Magic, what do you do?"

The girl frowned. She pressed the tip of her wand against her chair, prodding it gently. Harry watched as it spun in the air, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

"It's the same as normal magic, I suppose." she decided at last, "Except instead of saying the incantation, I think it."

Think it?

"Can't you do it without thinking it?" Harry paused, thinking, "I mean, if you want to set something on fire, you don't have to think 'Incendio' everytime, do you?"

A curious expression took over the girl's features. She returned her wand to the side of the chair, tapping it a second time, but the chair remained as old, withered and stationary as ever.

"I don't think you can do Nonverbal Magic without at least thinking the incantation." She said, "I don't know anyone who can. It wouldn't surprise me if Dumbledore could, but I'm not sure."

She smiled at Harry again, pulling her chair out from beneath the table and retaking her seat.

"Did you have any other questions?"

"Er - no." Harry wiped a bit of dust from the front of his robes, straightening up, "That was it. Thanks a lot."

"No problem." said the girl, tapping the badge on her robes, "If you need anything else, you're more than welcome to ask."

Harry nodded, moving away from the table. Long, tall aisles surrounded him on either side, and the girl and her friends vanished from sight. His fingers wrapped around the wand within his pockets, the ends of his lips falling as it rose through the air. Harry slashed it across his chest in an arc. Flames spewed from the tip of his wand, sputtering out as they fell upon the rugs that lined the floor.

It doesn't make sense -

Eyes pressed against the back of his skull. Harry turned, his gaze squeezing through a gap in one of the shelves. A woman hovered at the end of the library - one with long, translucent hair and aristocratic features. Harry watched as she looked away, gliding through a wall and out of sight.

Harry frowned. He slowly pocketed his wand, his eyes still latched to where the Grey Lady had been just moments before.

-(xXx)-

Small, gloved hands reached towards the floor below, picking up a handful of snow. Bellatrix watched as the boy straightened up, cupping the snow into a ball. She couldn't see him very well - the boy was standing by the castle, far from where she hid at the edge of the forest - but she could still make out the outline of the thin, circular spectacles that adorned him. A girl with long blonde hair stood before him, and a boy engrossed in a dark book lingered further back.

Familiar looking, the both of them.

The blonde girl's head rose. Her hair was braided intricately, and her eyes were as icy as the earth at her feet.

Like Ophelia. Mummy didn't like Ophelia. She was friends with a mudblood.

But she married a Greengrass, and so mummy never said a thing. Grandfather wouldn't have let her, either - Arcturus Black would have hexed them all silly if they had.

He would've hexed mummy silly either way. Didn't like her much.

Bellatrix giggled, pressing a hand against the edges of her lips.

No one did, really. I don't.

Dark, heavily-hooded eyes turned to the boy further back. His hair was short but neat, nearly as dark as hers. His eyes were of a similar color, and his skin was pale, too. His nose curved slightly -

Like the Notts.

Her gaze traced the book in his hands. It was larger than most - it looked like the boy was almost struggling to hold it open. His eyes were latched to its contents, and he seemed almost transfixed by the words upon the pages.

Maybe he's pretending. I don't think the Notts could read.

Something shifted. Bellatrix watched as the boy in the middle - the bespectacled one with the bright emerald eyes - turned, his eyes on the blonde girl's back. His lips curved upwards, and his hand flew in an arc across his chest.

Splat.

The blonde girl -

Mini Ophelia. Let's call her mini Ophelia.

Mini Ophelia yelled, her voice tearing through the fog-filled air. Bella, however, could see the soft smile that graced the girl's features. Hiding her smile, the girl reached towards the earth, cupping snow into a ball before launching it at the boy behind her.

Cute. Cissy would like them.

She watched as Harry Potter chased the girl through the Hogwarts grounds, tossing balls of snow at her. One of them caught her square in the back - the girl fell to the ground, throwing a snowball back at him. It hit him square in the face, and the boy fell just beside her. Laughter rang through the grounds.

Cissy would really like them.

Something dark and cold pressed against her senses. Black, tattered robes hovered near the edge of the forest.

Time to go.

Bellatrix turned, skipping through the forest as she hummed to herself.

"You stole my cauldron, my favourite black hat. Purloined my owl, then flew off like a vampire bat. You claimed that you loved me, said we've never part. Then you stole my cauldron - but you - what was it - but you can't have my heart . . ."

What a stupid song.

The outskirts of Hogsmeade grew larger with every step she took. Bellatrix quietly dashed behind a building at the edge of the village, hiding behind a large barrel of Firewhisky.

"Just need to be seen, then off I go."

Bellatrix nodded, straightening up and brushing flecks of snow from her pitch black robes.

That way the Ministry will look for me here, and not somewhere else.

A giggle escaped her lips. Bella pressed a hand to her mouth, smothering the heat across her face.

Stupid Ministry. Stupid blankets, too. Filthy, floaty fucks -

"Master always has the best ideas." murmured Bellatrix, drawing her wand from a pocket in her robes, "But she isn't as creative as me, is she? No one is . . . I'm special like that."

Footprints marred the freshly fallen snow as she leapt across the village, a thin hood covering her head. She quickly looked from side to side, her eyes landing upon a plump witch at the end of the path.

Perfect.

Her hood slipped to her shoulder. Bella winked, another giggle fleeing her parted lips.

And off we go again.

There was a loud crack, and Bellatrix disappeared.