At long last, another chapter arrives. I think I like this one - it fills me with a nice, relaxing feeling, despite the rather violent actions of a mildly insane, dark-haired Death Eater.

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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

XI. The Grey Lady

"Morsus!"

Harry winced as a beam of shimmering grey light sliced across his arm. Thin gashes trailed down his wrist, forming a crude semicircle that stopped at the end of his palm.

"Would you cut that out?" he hissed irritably. Rivulets of blood streamed down his skin, dropping to the floor below, "Who even makes a spell like that?"

Across the room, a woman with curly black hair frowned.

"The Blacks, obviously."

Bellatrix slashed her wand across her chest. Violet magic streaked across the classroom, and Harry felt the bite marks on his arm slowly seal up.

"Now focus, ickle Harrykins. You won't be able to do it if you don't."

That's not helping, either.

Harry grimaced, jumping out of the way in the nick of time. Wooden planks burst from the wall behind him, splintering in all directions.

Depulso!

Bits of wood flew across the room. For a moment, Harry relaxed - by the next, they were soaring right at him. His arms flew to his face, and small wooden fragments hacked at his hands.

"You tried that already." Bellatrix reminded him, unimpressed, "And I told you to stop thinking."

She grit her teeth, and magic leapt across the room.

"Protego!"

Harry staggered back as nearly a dozen spells slammed against his shield. He felt it crumple, and within seconds he was soaring across the room again.

She's absolutely barmy.

Harry looked up, dazed. Bellatrix loomed somewhere across the room, her curly dark hair swaying in a breeze that wasn't there. Her long, curved wand slowly rose -

Harry threw himself back to the ground. Another chunk of the wall burst to bits. He was covered in dozens of little cuts, and his skin felt like it was on fire.

"You can't say it, either!" snapped Bella, "No talking, and no thinking!"

"I didn't mean to." Harry pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly, "But it's a bit difficult not to when a bloody - don't point that at me again!"

A blast of air slammed into his chest, and Harry felt the wind get knocked right out of him. He slumped over, lying flat upon the warped wooden floors of the Shrieking Shack.

"Instinct." Bellatrix repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, "It's instinct. Stop thinking, stop saying, and just get it done already -"

"I'm trying!" Harry rolled over, coughing, "It's a lot easier when someone isn't trying to kill me, believe it or not."

"I gave you the chance to do it on your own, and you couldn't do it -"

"You were looking at me funny." Harry mumbled earnestly, "It's distracting."

Bellatrix didn't seem all too impressed. She watched as Harry slowly sat up, frowning as he coughed again.

"Can't you just explain it again? I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

Bellatrix sighed. With a wave of her wand, the tattered sofa flew across the room, the armchair following right behind it. Harry got to his feet, only to be knocked into the soft, leathery confines of the chair. Opposite him, Bellatrix lounged within her sofa, fiddling with her wand.

"It isn't that complicated." she said, "Instinctive magic. The simplest, most pure form of magic. The sort of magic the greats used to use - Morgana, Slytherin, Loxias - those sort. Real magic. Powerful magic."

Like what I used against Lockhart. That weird, invisible shield.

Harry sank back into his armchair, resting an arm against the side of his stomach. It hurt quite badly.

"Like the next level of nonverbal magic?" he asked uncertainly.

"Sure." Bellatrix straightened up, facing him properly, "It's the sort of thing only the most powerful can do. Like Master - and the old fool, too."

"But you can't." noted Harry. He winced as the words slipped from his lips, "Don't curse me for that, not again -"

"If you don't want to get cursed, you'll just have to get better." Bellatrix said, twirling her wand with her fingers, "Which you won't, of course."

"Funny, aren't you?"

"I certainly think so." said Bellatrix. She lowered her wand, looking him over, "To be fair, you aren't bad. I suppose you're decent for a ten year old -"

"Thirteen."

I reckon I could beat just about every student at Hogwarts. That's got to be better than decent.

"- and your spells are strong, too." she finished, "I reckon you'd beat a few of the more pathetic Death Eaters without much of a problem."

"Really?"

"Don't get too excited." said Bellatrix lazily, "I used to wonder if Crabbe and Goyle could even tell one end of their wand from the other."

Harry frowned.

Like father, like son, then.

"You never answered my question." he remembered slowly, "Why can't you use it? Instinct, or whatever it is."

She's supposed to be pretty powerful, after all.

Harry sat up in his seat. He winced as the side of his stomach pressed against the arm of his chair.

Definitely powerful.

"It's a kiddy thing. If you aren't powerful enough when you're young, you won't pick it up when you're older. It's too late by then. Like swimming, I think. Sort of."

"I can't swim," Harry muttered, "so that doesn't sound very reassuring."

Bellatrix snickered, clawed hands covering her mouth.

"I heard about that." she giggled, "You better hope your little dorm window never cracks. You'll end up getting found by the merpeople, and they're never nice."

"What's wrong with merpeople?" asked Harry tiredly.

"They're so pokey." Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, "With those tridents, I mean. Oversized, three-ended toothpicks . . ."

She trailed off. After a moment, Bellatrix flicked her wand, and the armchair flew out from beneath him. Harry fell to the ground with a loud thud.

"Come off it, not another fight -"

But a large, battered sofa flew across the room, and Harry hurriedly ducked out of the way.

"Do it already!" yelled Bella, her wand arcing through the stale air, "Or I'll show you just how pokey those three-ended toothpicks really are!"

Cold, rusted metal curved into a trident, and Harry felt the color drain from his face.

She's going to be the death of me.

-(xXx)-

Harry shoveled the last of his porridge into his mouth, standing up. Small crumbs slowly faded from the golden platter. He plucked his wand from the table, and his fingers shifted to his pocket. He felt the smooth, papery outline of the Marauder's Map folded up in his robes.

"Going already?"

Harry nodded. Daphne wiped her lips with a napkin, frowning.

"This is the eighth day in a row that you've left breakfast early." she noted, her eyes narrowed, "You sure you aren't doing anything stupid?"

"You can relax." Harry assured her, "I'm just looking for something, that's all."

Daphne paused. Her cool eyes slid across his face, and after what felt like an eternity, she turned back to a porridge bowl of her own.

"Don't do anything stupid." she muttered, raising a spoon to her lips, "Or anything reckless, or foolhardy, or -"

"- the usual." Harry finished, grinning, "I won't. I'll see you before Transfiguration."

His feet clattered across the tiled floors. The faint blurs of students whirled past him as he made his way out of the Great Hall and up several moving staircases. Looking around, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map out from his robes.

I've already checked the dungeons. The first six floors, too.

"Only the seventh floor left." Harry murmured uncertainly.

Or I've missed it.

Harry grimaced. He'd spent the better parts of many hours combing through the school, searching in vain -

I literally spent four hours screwing with all the portraits. That's how you get into the kitchens - just tickle the pear in the painting of a bowl of fruit.

"And most portraits don't like being tickled all that much." Harry mumbled, grimacing.

Not that I blame them.

The stairs smoothed out, and Harry found himself standing in the seventh-floor corridor. It was much emptier than the others; only an old, battered cupboard stood off to one side, pressed just beneath a large glass window. A few odd portraits were strewn about, and there was a strange tapestry of a man teaching eight large, wart-covered trolls ballet. There was a human-sized vase, too - but that was all.

Makes sense. People only really come up here for Divination anyway.

Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket, pressing the end of his wand against the surface.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Deep red inky swam across the parchment. Hundreds of miniscule names covered the map, but there were very few up here.

"There's me." muttered Harry, "Professor Trelawney's in her classroom too, and -"

Harry paused. His eyes fell upon a name attached to inky red footsteps standing across from him on the map.

"Helena Ravenclaw." he read aloud.

The Grey Lady.

Something shimmered in his peripheral vision, and he looked up.

Long hair, dark and translucent, fell past her shoulders in waves. She had aristocratic features - a sharp jaw, smooth skin, and high, pale cheekbones. But her glowing form, beautiful though it was, seemed dull and lifeless. Harry shivered.

Her eyes combed over him. They were very sharp; Harry felt as though she could see his very thoughts. Pale, ghostly fingers curved, and she turned, gliding towards the blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry.

"Wait!" Harry pocketed the map, trailing after her, "Come back, just a second -"

The both of them stopped. The Grey Lady turned back to him. Her striking grey eyes bore into his own.

"In there." she whispered softly, "You will find what you seek in there."

She pointed at the blank wall. Harry glanced at it, then back at her.

The Room of Requirement?

Harry frowned.

"How did you -"

But the air shimmered before him, and the Grey Lady vanished. Muttering under his breath, Harry turned back to the wall. A thoughtful expression dominated his features. He slowly walked along the length of the tapestry, thinking as loudly as he could.

I need a place to practice. A place to get stronger. I need to be better, more powerful, stronger -

Large wooden doors curved into the brick walls. A rush of excitement rushed through his veins, and Harry yanked on the large metallic handle, swinging the doors wide open.

Countless shelves were scattered about. There were training dummies grouped in the corner of the room, waving their arms about. Peculiar little instruments sat on large tables, and there was a desk by a large window across the room.

Harry laughed as the oak doors closed behind him.

It's perfect.

-(xXx)-

"Calorem Focis!"

Warmth hugged his senses and Harry sighed, his boots steaming as the icy water slowly evaporated.

Not instinctual, though. Bella would snap my neck if she saw that.

Harry grimaced. He allowed the Warming Charm to slip away. The cold breeze slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

Warmth, give me warmth, quickly -

Harry sighed again as heat pressed against his chest again.

That's better.

The path down to Hagrid's hut was long and arduous, especially around this time of year. Harry cleared most of the snow with a few waves of his wand, but the skies above continued to rain down upon him. He jumped down the stone steps two at a time, and after what felt like forever, Hagrid's hut sat before him.

"Hagrid!" Harry called, knocking on the door, "Hagrid, it's freezing, let me in -"

The wooden door swung open.

"Finally." Harry moaned, "That was horrible -"

He trailed off. Hagrid slowly turned away from the door, slumping into the large chair by his fireplace. His eyes were red and glassy, and his beard was matted with tears. A thin, folded sheet of parchment sat upon the large oak table.

"Yeh shouldn' b-be here, Harry." he said, his voice cracking. Harry watched uncertainly as his head fell into hands the size of a trash can lid, "Today's a Hogsmeade visit, yeh can only go ter Hogsmeade or s-stay back, an' since yer form ain' s-signed . . ."

Hagrid gulped. Hot, wet tears slid down his weathered face.

"I wanted to see you first." said Harry slowly, "Are - are you alright?"

Of course he isn't, you muppet.

Hagrid slowly shook his head. A large, calloused finger pointed at the letter on the table, and he continued bawling.

"Buckbeak's been sentenced ter death!" he cried, ducking into his arms again, "They sent that just a few m-minutes ago . . . an' the board, they all signed it, every one o' them!"

Hagrid snuffled. Harry waved his wand across his chest, and a soft violet handkerchief burst from its tip. It flew through the room, landing gently in Hagrid's lap. Hagrid mumbled thanks, blowing loudly into it. Harry watched as the giant of a man wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He reached towards the letter that sat upon the table, unfolding it carefully.

'Dear Mr. Rubeus Hagrid,

It has come to our attention that a Hippogriff was in attendance at one of your most early classes this school year. Although Hippogriffs are classed by the Ministry as class XXX creatures, the Hippogriff's seemingly unprovoked attack on one of the Hogwarts students has concerned the board greatly.

Two members of the Incident Reversal Squad have already met with Albus Dumbledore, who has assured us that you are not to blame. Your lesson appears to be within the Ministry's strictly tailored guideline, as do the instructions given to your students. Still, such a transgression can not be overlooked.

We regret to inform you that the Hippogriff in question, named "Buckbeak", is currently awaiting trial to be sentenced to death. We shall send the date of the trial by post in a few weeks' time. Should the trial not be in your favor, you are more than welcome to apply for an appeal.

As of now, the expected execution date sits at June 1st.

Sending our deepest condolences,

The Hogwarts Board of Governors'

The letter went on, listing fourteen different signatures in thick dark ink. Harry stared at the one at the very bottom. His eyes narrowed, and he felt his palms ball into fists.

"Malfoy." he hissed angrily, "Hagrid, Malfoy's dad is on the board!"

He's probably behind all this.

Hagrid nodded glumly, reaching for a tankard the size of a barrel. Harry watched worriedly as Hagrid drained its contents with a loud gulp.

"'Course 'e is." Hagrid sobbed, "He carted me off ter Azkaban las' year, remember?"

Harry nodded. His eyes fell to the letter again, scanning its contents very carefully.

"You can argue your case at the trial." he tried, "And at the appeal, if that doesn't work out -"

But Malfoy won't let that work. He'll make sure Buckbeak dies.

Harry sighed, sliding into the seat beside Hagrid. He stared blankly at the letter before tossing it back to the table. Hagrid's loud, hoarse cries somehow managed to drown out the crackling logs in his fireplace.

"I'll help you." Harry promised, staring into the fire. A glowing ember wafted up through the hut, crumbling before it could reach him, "I can help you prepare for your case. I'll look into it in the Hogwarts Library. There might be a few useful books in there."

Hagrid's sobs rang through the room as an oversized hand patted Harry gratefully on the shoulder.

-(xXx)-

"Out!" barked Bellatrix, pointing a long, claw-like finger at the shack's battered entrance, "Out you get! Go on!"

"What's the point?" Harry slowly turned to the door. The hem of his robes got caught upon an upended plank of wood as he slouched towards it, "There isn't anything to talk about."

"No point lying, ickle Harry. Now go out and wait."

Bellatrix paused, and the ends of her lips curved upwards. Frail, yellowish teeth ruined a beautiful smile.

"Make a chair for me, too." she said, giggling, "A nice one - and no words, or incantations, or anything, clear? If it's nice, I'll go easier next time we fight . . ."

She trailed off. Harry ducked through the door, wincing as the harsh winter breeze slid across his skin.

"Calorem Focis!"

Heat ensnared his senses, and he sighed with relief.

Crack.

Harry spun through the air, crashing face-first into the snow with a loud thud. Groaning, he pushed himself back to his feet.

"I heard that!" called Bellatrix from somewhere behind him, "Silence, it's a lovely thing -"

"Like you'd know!" Harry shouted, cupping his mouth with his palms, "That was probably the longest silence you've ever been a part of, you miserable hag -"

A beam of violet magic crackled through the air, and Harry dove into the snow for a second time.

Absolutely barmy, she is.

Gloved fingers brushed bits of snow from his robes. Harry picked his wand back out of the snow, waving it before him.

Dry me.

Steam wafted from his robes, and his socks no longer felt wet.

Not bad.

Harry turned his wand, pointing it at a mound of snow opposite him.

A chair. Become a chair - one of the nice ones, like the one Uncle Vernon has by the fireplace -

The freshly fallen snow soared into the air, twisting and writhing like a sort of puppet. Harry watched as it curved in on itself, the white ice warping into dark leather.

"What's that supposed to be?"

Harry turned.

Bellatrix's face was hidden beneath a pitch black hood, but he could still make out the faintest hint of straight brown hair. Her lips were a bit thinner, too, and her cheeks were much more rosy now. Her eyes, which had previously been a sharp grey, were somewhere between brown and black.

The woman paused, inspecting the chair very carefully. Harry watched as she fiddled with the mechanical lever on the left-hand side.

"It's a recliner." he told her slowly, "You sit in it and pull the lever."

Bellatrix frowned. She leaned closer, eying the metallic lever. Her eyes, no longer so heavily-lidded, narrowed a fraction.

"And?"

"And," Harry said, "Magic happens."

She grimaced. Harry watched as her thin lips straightened into an even thinner line.

To be fair, it's not far off. I still remember sitting in Uncle Vernon's old recliner and watching TV whenever the Dursleys were out. It definitely felt like magic back then.

Bellatrix eyed him carefully, lowering herself into the chair. Her fingers wrapped around the thin metal, making circles in the air. Slowly, the chair extended.

"Ta-da." Harry held his hands out, gazing expectantly at Bellatrix, "Brilliant, isn't it?"

Deep brown eyes glared holes into his vision. Bellatrix sank further into the chair, still inspecting it.

"The muggles made it, didn't they?"

Harry nodded slowly. Bella frowned.

"Twitchy little things, those muggles." she murmured, sinking back into the recliner, "Absolutely worthless. But I suppose they make nice chairs. Someone's got to."

"Muggles aren't that bad." said Harry absentmindedly, "Some of them are pretty decent."

They're like us, really. Just without the magic.

Bellatrix sat up, fiddling with the lever again.

"They're insects." she said seriously, "All small and fragile, and if you aren't too careful, you'll step on them. Unless you do it on purpose, of course - squashing insects is so much fun . . ."

She trailed off, sighing with content. Harry had the strangest feeling that it wasn't bugs she thought of squishing. He watched as she cuddled up against the leather chair, wrapping her robes more tightly around her.

"Now," she said loudly, "What's got you all distracted? You're more rubbish than usual today."

Harry frowned. His fingers fiddled with the end of his wand, and his head tilted off to the side. Harry felt his teeth gently bite into his bottom lip. He shivered uncertainly.

"My friend, Hagrid," he began at last, "He's in a bit of trouble."

"The Gamekeeper?" asked Bellatrix curiously, "He still hasn't been fired yet?"

Harry ignored her.

"He's the Care of Magical Creatures teacher this year. For one of his lessons he brought a Hippogriff to class. He told everyone how to treat it, just to be safe. But Malfoy didn't listen, and now Buckbeak - that's the hippogriff, by the way - he's going to be sentenced to death."

Bellatrix tittered, tapping her fingers against the arm of her recliner.

"Little Draco's just like his daddy, isn't he?" she crooned, "Plays the game poorly, and when the consequences pop up, he just slips away. Slimy little bints, the Malfoys -"

"Nevermind, them." said Harry, "What about Buckbeak? How am I supposed to help him and Hagrid?"

Bellatrix shrugged, still giggling.

"Why do you even care?" she asked, grinning wickedly, "So a hippogriff's going to get all chopped up, big deal. Why does it matter?"

"It matters," snapped Harry angrily, "because Hagrid's my friend."

Bella frowned. Her eyes slid across his form, landing upon his palms. They were both balled into thick, crude fists. She glanced up again, and her lips slowly parted.

"There's a section near the back of the Hogwarts Library about cases like these." she muttered quietly, "Old case clippings, things like that. They'd be pretty useful for something like this."

Harry smiled faintly.

"Thanks."

Bellatrix nodded, sinking further into her recliner. The ghost of a smile hid beneath her pitch black robes.