Chapter 21: TBD, Part 3 - Ursus Black Journal
Hermione Granger couldn't sleep. The events of the evening kept running through her mind. She thought standing in front of Wizengamot attempting to validate her right to get married when and to whom she wished was the most awkward moment in her life.
Not anymore.
Not after the last few hours.
They gave the act another try with the purple thing attached under Hermione's clothing. Aside from the increased level of awkwardness, the change did nothing else. Hermione suggested they switch the roles, and was secretly relieved at Bellatrix adamant refusal to play a man. Something felt off about the dark witch behavior though.
Of course very few things were not off about Bellatrix's behavior.
Hermione gave up on sleep. She put on the long pajama pants and thick socks and headed downstairs to the ballroom. She had her reservations about implementing the plan she came up with to console her outraged brain. The plan was something to pacify herself with not something to actually do.
Not until now.
Hermione wanted to wring the Wizengamot necks with renewed zeal.
She didn't need Bellatrix's confirmation that she cleared the thigh territory. The black eyes which held barely a sliver of emotion as it was lost even that as Hermione felt her hips move further than they've been able to before. Even though Bellatrix initiated the situation, and decided on the manner in which it was happening, and even though Hermione did her best to pay attention and abide by Bellatrix's rules, she still felt like she was forcing the witch. Never ever she thought she would be in such a situation.
Bellatrix looked uncomfortable about the whole thing and yet stubbornly dismissive of it. Hermione was at a loss on how to discuss it with the witch without having her head bitten off for her trouble.
She brushed the welling moisture from her eyes angrily.
Neither of them had real choice in the matter at this point.
She walked by the floating portraits.
Her intention of going in alphabetical order would need to be adjusted. Applefield alone just wouldn't be enough. She'd find him a pair!
She picked ribboned scrolls from under two portraits. Reviewed the messages there. Then went to the shelves with the source materials and found articles she was looking for. She cast Geminio twice on the first scroll, and on articles from several old newspapers. She then conjured two scroll tubes, and etched recipients as Barnabas Cuffe, The Daily Prophet offices, on one, and Tobias Misslethorpe II, The Witch Weekly offices, on the other.
She then went to the large desk with a stack of labeled scrolls which held her notes and calculations. She summoned those marked Whitlock, thought for a moment, and summoned two more names. The information on the last two members wasn't incriminating enough to prompt proper investigation by journalists or by the Ministry. It was however odd enough that the public reveal, even with no proof, would cause embarrassment and inconvenience.
As before she copied the scrolls, kept the originals, and packed the duplicates into the scroll tubes. Whitlock's copies were to go to the DMLE, and to the International Magical Trading Standards Body. The other two were packed into one tube to go to the Xenophilius Lovegood.
The pre-dawn walk to the owlery and back did very little for Hermione's insomnia. Bellatrix said that her ancestor's journal was in the library, so she headed to the library next.
Hermione was familiar enough with the library to know that there were no shelves with personal journals there. She started her search with potential reading places, and, sure enough, found the thick leather-bound notebook on one of the desks. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to discover in the writings that Bellatrix didn't see, but a fresh set of eyes often helped.
She collected the journal to read in her bedroom. It wasn't very mature, but she wanted to avoid running into Bellatrix. She needed the confusing feelings of guilt and embarrassment the last evening provoked every time it came to mind to abate before she saw the older witch again.
She stopped by the couch which still had a pile of books she was looking through before her odd evening began. She fished the Guide from under the other books and put it where the journal was.
Perhaps Bellatrix would adjust her thinking given more information.
She could hope.
Hermione settled in the middle of the bed with a large mug of pumpkin juice and a pile of snacks she collected from the kitchen. She cast a detection spell and, finding no charms guarding the notebook, opened it.
The Secret Journal of Ursus Black was scribbled inside the leather cover. The dates, 1660-1713, were added below in a different hand.
She leafed through the pages. They were of differing textures and shades, from almost white to rich beige, filled by the same scribbling handwriting as the journal title in various ink shades.
The drawings of the appendage started close to the end of the book. Bellatrix clearly had trouble replicating finer details without a wand. Hermione was thankful for that. She would have felt even more ridiculous with the exact replica.
Hermione went to the beginning. Bellatrix clearly perused the relevant pages to create the item. Perhaps the clue to how to make it work was somewhere else in the journal.
May 17, 1677
My sweeting Anne! her fountain weeps for me… didn't want me… at first. Magic Is Might! now she's mine all mine... soon very soon I'll see my firstling...
May 27, 1677
I hate Father… loathe him… despise him… Why kill tiny Ursula… my perfect halfling… she was illegitimate… she threatened nothing… NOTHING!
Lucretia's a troll! A PureBlood TROLL!
Old goat refused the right of first night… and I'm to mount her and only her ALL MY LIFE… I don't think so! Hard-faced cold cow… doesn't want me anyway… could make her… nay, she's too ugly to bother…
May 27, 1678
My heir born at daybreak...
The irony! The blasphemy!
The bloody cow's still alive… sure gave me hope screeching as she was... baby Ursus is her-mirror… hard-faced little bugger... would kill the thing, alas the bugger is mine…
You Always Protect What Is Yours
Would have to make a new one with the cow then too... Nay, Ursus lives.
June 3, 1678
Mary's virgin two-leaved gate opened for me with her father's demise, so tragic, and Salazar I carry no regrets…
June 12, 1678
Amina's blossoming apples alike the southern melons, so right in my hands, so deliciously heavy…
July 7, 1678
Josephine's sweet honeypot, still feel it now. Muggles are so easy to persuade...
September 1, 1678
Svetlana's globes are only rivaled by her fountain. Staying awhile won't be a bore…
[...]
[...]
May 17, 1685
Helga's pitcher nay-nay her fort was sweet to take. She fought and screamed and wept so mighty. Mayhap, shall try the Muggle way more often...
The man was a pig. Hermione's intention to read everything in the notebook was greatly challenged. The accolades to women and their attributes, with drawings, took more than half of the journal. Hermione never saw so many different globes and fountains; never knew so many ways to call them either. Ursus didn't draw just that though. The margins of the pages were full of doodles, from the flowers, trees, and animals, to ways he killed or maimed the women's husbands and fathers.
June 18, 1685
25 proven halflings for my 25th birthday… will make it 125 by 30th… your precious blood diluted all over the known world… take that Father… can't find them all… can't kill them all…
July 10, 1687
Finally… out of the dungeons Josephine's hoddy-doddy threw me into… the bastard… must see healer… the bug from that hellhole burns in all the wrong places… feels like one of my giblets falling off!
Ah but, halfling number 36… Philippe…. is a dear… handsome little gent… unlike the ogre Ursi is growing into… looks like me too!
Blasted damnation it HURTS!
The writing changed between the two entries. It still seemed to belong to the same person, but became spidery and messy.
November 6, 1687
Monsieur Lestrange's a warlock… damn his blood… the cuckolded son of bitch cursed my fiddle with leprosy before the dungeons! Healers could do nothing… -too late, Mr Black-… took most of the rod and the giblets...
Barred from France
No matter… by my troth… he'll pay! He'll weep the day his damned mother spit him out!
The next entry was dated almost a year later, and contained first mentions and sketches of the artificial fiddle . Hermione leafed through the tables of woods, bones, and metals with their properties, of potion ingredients and various mixtures with experimental incantations. The wizard was thorough and determined. The final version of the appendage with the best materials, soaking mixture, and accompanying incantation was just several pages before the end of the journal. The side note at the margins stated: still glows, no matter… will do as is.
Bellatrix's efforts went at least this far. The writings grew less and less legible. Several pages were simply covered by doodles and random shapes. The last page held two short entries followed by an odd table of dates and names, with doodles, letters and random words at the end of each row.
March 2, 1699
Philippe killed Ursus and his wee babe... foolish halfling bastard be dead by now… the dogs be kept quite hungry… pity… the lad was a me-mirror…
January 9, 1700
Praise my half-a-giblet and the lantern-rod for a spare…
March 2, 1700 2 Luis 4 1679 - 1700 Z
March 3, 1700 3 Luis 25 1682 - 1686 flux
March 8, 1700 4 Pierre 24 1679 - 1700
March 4, 1701 5 Ivan 38 1686 - 1701 [doodle]
[...]
March 1, 1713 38 Olaf 67 1688 - 1713
March , 1713 39 Ivar 15 1681 -
The day was in full swing by the time Hermione finished the journal. She knew she missed breakfast. Hopefully Bellatrix missed it too. Something about the journal was nagging at the back of her mind. She was sickened with Bellatrix's creep of an ancestor, and also very sleepy at this point. She needed to have a bath and a nap, preferably not at the same time.
Bellatrix glanced not for the first time at the empty chair. The time charm still displayed everything but time for her, but the mostly hidden by clouds sun was overhead now. There was no point staying in the room longer. The girl was not coming down. Bellatrix didn't think the evening went that badly, if she didn't count the utter failure to reach their goal, but maybe it did for the girl.
She thought back to the previous night.
She should not have been at all honest. About anything. She didn't think the girl would care.
Now she must think Bellatrix as completely mad, and not in a scary mad way... No! In a weak and odd and broken mad way.
Nails bit into her palm.
It didn't matter.
Whatever the mudblood thought didn't matter!
She stopped by her rooms before heading to the owlery.
One bird was missing, and the others looked haggard. The girl seemed to find the time to visit the owls.
She handed a message to one of the birds and settled to wait for a reply.
The bird returned hours later.
"Bella,
I'm in France. I must conclude business here. A new permit to travel would take weeks to obtain.
You two will find resolution. I'm confident there is no need for goodbyes. I'll see you soon.
Love,
Cissy"
The letter burned.
Bellatrix didn't see the girl at all that day but Ursus' journal was missing from the library, and that book was in its place.
It was around midnight when Hermione finally woke up. She didn't mean to avoid Bellatrix that long, and could only imagine what the witch was thinking by now. She summoned the leather-bound notebook and the remaining snacks. Her head was fresh. This was as good a time as any to give the research another try.
End of Chapter 21
