"RELEASE ME! … FILTH! … HOW DARE YOU!"

Lunatic cries echoed through the bare, nondescript room where Bellatrix Lestrange sat bound to a chair, her wrists and ankles locked in heavy, magic-suppressing restraints. For the past fifteen minutes, she had been struggling in vain, screaming herself hoarse as she vowed to deliver a slow, torturous death upon whoever was responsible for this. Meanwhile, the very small part of her mind that was still sane wondered just how she had ended up in this situation.

It had started as a fairly routine day for her. She had first gone to Gringotts, followed by a visit to one of the shops that sold the more obscure artifacts and dark magic supplies required for the war. Bellatrix could remember the streets being filled with mudblood beggars and various other riff-raff, but that was completely normal these days. As usual, they would scramble to get out of her way as soon as they saw her. There was no sign of any danger – until it was too late. One moment, she was walking proudly through one of the side streets branching off from Diagon Alley. The next thing she knew, she was being attacked from all sides!

Bellatrix more sensed than saw the spells flying her way. She dodged and shielded for about five seconds before an overpowered stunner hit her in the back and sent her to the ground. Before going down, she succeeded in sending a couple of very nasty curses in the directions from which the attacks seemed to be coming. With any luck, she might have managed to kill some of her attackers. But of course, that knowledge brought her little comfort now…

"AAAAAAAAAA!" she cried in frustration before finally going quiet for the first time in minutes, even the crazy part of her concluding she wasn't accomplishing anything and that her captors, whoever they were, were content to ignore her. She proceeded to check whether she might be able to slip out of her restraints, but that proved equally fruitless. The heavy-duty, magic-suppressing shackles held her arms and legs tight. The chair was also sturdy and heavy, leaving her with no chance of knocking it over by rocking her body repeatedly.

With no way to escape her situation, Bellatrix's mind went back to imagining what she was going to do to those responsible. How she would flay them alive for this! Unfortunately, her future victims had to remain faceless in her fantasy. The attack had happened so fast she never got to see any faces, just sensing their spells flying her way.

And that was something that honestly bothered Bellatrix – the attack had been superbly professional and clean… too clean. As the Dark Lord's top lieutenant (a thought that never failed to make her smile with pride), she had her share of enemies, of course. However, as far as she knew, all those potentially capable of doing something like this were either dead, in prison, or too scared to show their faces in public.

So who was it? Who had the guts to attack and kidnap her in broad daylight? Harry Potter?!

'No, surely not Harry Potter,' she immediately dismissed the silly thought. Potter hadn't been seen for many months, ever since the slippery blood traitor and his dirty mudblood whore had managed to evade the Dark Lord in Godric's Hollow. Since then, it had been as though the boy had fallen off the surface of the Earth, and the Dark Lord had eventually concluded he must have escaped abroad. Besides, even if he had been in Britain, Harry Potter would never have done something like this. More than once, she had offered herself up as bait, reckoning Potter might try to seek revenge for his blood traitor of a godfather. But her Lord had wisely explained it would be futile, as the boy-who-lived simply didn't think in that manner…

But then who was it? One of Dumbledore's lackeys they had failed to neutralize? A foreign intervention? Her fellow Death Eaters betraying the Dark Lord?! All of those would be more likely to outright kill her than kidnap her and hold her prisoner!

After a moment of agonized thinking, Bellatrix finally shrugged and concluded it didn't really matter. Regardless of who had done this to her, they were dead… dead and buried. Their families and friends were dead too. She would get them all for this, one by one, and drown them in the blood of their loved ones!

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

Insane laughter filled her solitary cell, strongly contrasting the earlier silence. Bellatrix Lestrange cackled so hard and for so long, she almost missed the sound of the door opening and a group of three people entering. In front walked a young man and a woman whom Bellatrix didn't recognize, but following in their wake was a decrepit old wizard who seemed familiar to her. It had been quite a long time since she had last seen him. Even back then, he had looked very old, and now he looked even worse.

"H-Hartstark?!" she spat, contempt and disbelief mingling in her voice. Since waking up in this place, Bellatrix had been going through the list of people powerful and bold enough to kidnap her. And yet somehow Karl Hartstark – the grandmaster of the Order of Loki – had never even entered her mind. And how could he? She had no idea the old coot was even still alive!

Bellatrix could remember him visiting her grandparents a few times when she was still a girl. The only reason she still remembered him was because the bastard had the audacity to refuse her Lord's offer when he tried to recruit the Order of Loki for the war. This automatically caused Bellatrix to hate him – and, by extension, the other Order members.

"You've crossed the line this time!" Bellatrix screamed as she once again struggled uselessly against the restraints. "The Dark Lord will destroy you for this! You and your worthless stooges!" she promised with total confidence. Her Lord had generously spared the Order once, even after they had rejected him. After all, despite their foolishness, they were still firmly opposed to blood traitors and muggle influences. But this time, there would be no mercy. The Order of Loki would pay for this in blood!

"Please, my lady. I assure you… it's nothing personal," Hartstark told her calmly in his heavily accented voice, ignoring all the hatred being thrown at him by her eyes and words. With the mist of rage and insanity clouding Bellatrix's mind, it took her a moment to decipher the full meaning of his words. But when it did, her rage doubled once more.

"WHO – WHO HIRED YOU?" she demanded, her voice loud and slow with incredulity.

He didn't answer her. Instead, Bellatrix watched him reach into his pocket and take something out – a letter. "Our client has asked us to give you this, my lady," Hartstark told her, his politeness ironic given the circumstances and grating on Bellatrix's nerves. "I was told it would explain everything."

Normally, Bellatrix would have already raved and yelled, calling him insane for ever taking on a contract to kidnap her, knowing what her Lord would do to him and his Order in retaliation. She would have also loudly complained, calling him an idiot and questioning just how the hell she was supposed to open the letter with her hands tied to the chair. But she didn't do any of that and was instead shocked still and silent for the first time, utterly caught by surprise seeing her birth House's seal dangling from the letter as Hartstark waved the bloody thing in front of her face.

A genuine seal – even with her own magic suppressed, she could sense the familiar touch of family magic, confirming it was the real deal and not a deception. It would seem Lord Black was writing her a letter…

But Bellatrix knew that to be impossible as there was no Lord Black! Not unless her useless nephew had finally decided to man up and claim his inheritance. But Bellatrix knew that was impossible as well. Draco was a coward and a failure, completely unworthy of becoming the Lord of House Black, no matter what her sister thought.

So who the fuck was writing to her?!

"Here, my lady, let me help you with that," Hartstark spoke with amusement when he saw her tremble and stare at the seal in disbelief. He then proceeded to place the letter and the seal against her hand before forcibly closing her fingers around it, proving he had a surprising strength for a man of his age. Bellatrix could feel the magical seal break in her fingers, the magic within recognizing her as the intended recipient. She then watched as Hartstark unfolded the paper, and she was about to protest his action, thinking he intended to read it. Instead, he held the letter out in front of her face, allowing her to read it while smirking with satisfaction. However, Bellatrix had completely missed it, already busy studying the letter with mounting trepidation that swiftly transitioned to horror the more she read.

Bellatrix Lestrange,

You have brought unimaginable shame upon your family. Once, the House of Black was revered as the pinnacle of purity, nobility, and strength – a shining example of wizarding superiority. Through your vile actions, you have tarnished that legacy beyond recognition, dragging our name into infamy and disgrace. Not only did you murder your Lord, you also turned your wand against other purebloods of noble descent, spilling the blood of those who shared our lineage – the blood you swore to protect. You, who once claimed to hold the ideals of blood purity so close to your heart, have bowed to a mongrelized bastard born of a muggle. You offered not only your loyalty but your very body to a creature unworthy of standing in your shadow. You allowed the son of a muggle – a creature of inferior breeding – to touch you, to sully your flesh, and to father a child that carries the stain of his impurity. You have birthed a bastard whose very existence is an insult to our family's sacred blood.

For that, and for all your other crimes, I name you a blood traitor and banish you from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. From this day until the end of time, you are nothing. Your children are nothing. Your actions are nothing. Your future is nothing. I spit on your body and curse your soul…

What followed was an entire paragraph filled to the brim with highly creative expletives. But Bellatrix didn't read them all, as her eyes instead jumped all the way to the end.

Harry James Potter

Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

Bellatrix threw her head back and screamed. She screamed and screamed, completely ignoring the world around her. Technically, she was still surrounded by enemies and should remain vigilant, but there was hardly any point. The worst that could have happened to her had already happened – Harry Potter had somehow banished her from House Black as a blood traitor. Harry Potter was the Lord of House Black!

Bellatrix was utterly convinced nothing worse than that could possibly happen to her, and so she kept screaming. All the way until her fractured, diseased mind had finally managed to remember an inconspicuous paragraph right above Potter's signature, below all the expletives. She stopped screaming and looked at it more carefully.

Since you are no longer a member of my House, I will be seizing your maiden vault immediately. All assets, heirlooms, and properties contained therein will be reclaimed. Consider this your formal notification.

And just like that, Bellatrix realized she had been wrong about things possibly not getting any worse. To prevent their properties from being confiscated by the Ministry after the first war, pretty much everything owned by the Lestranges had been placed into her maiden vault. Even after the Dark Lord's return, they hadn't bothered to change this arrangement – a mistake in hindsight. But of course, losing everything she and her husband's family owned barely mattered to Bellatrix. While humiliating, it wasn't the true disaster.

'My Lord's treasure. It's inside!' she desperately wailed in her mind. Bellatrix had no idea what the Cup was, only that it was somehow extremely important for her Lord – a reason enough for Bellatrix to protect it with her life and soul. And now it seemed she was about to fail in the most important task of her life! Even during her long years in Azkaban with dementors constantly around her, Bellatrix had never felt such existential horror as she did at the thought of Harry Potter getting his hands on the Dark Lord's Cup…

And with that knowledge and thought in mind, Bellatrix proceeded to do something she never thought she'd do – negotiate with her captors.

"Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it!" she shot at Hartstark, who had been watching her meltdown with faint amusement.

The old geezer raised an eyebrow at her reaction before flipping the accursed letter in his hand and reading it for himself. When he was finished, he threw back his head and laughed, even while Bellatrix growled with impotent rage. Hartstark's laughter could be described as a mix of manic glee and malice, leaving no doubt he was the grandmaster of an order named after the most notorious trickster in human history.

"W- with what?" Hartstark questioned, even as he wiped away the tears from his eyes after laughing so hard. "It would seem your financial situation just became more than precarious, my lady," he told her mockingly. "And besides, Lord Potter has already promised us half of your maiden vault in payment," he informed her, making her eyes widen.

Bellatrix had been cursing that halfblood bastard in her mind ever since she saw his signature on the letter, and she did so once more right now. She had a brief, terrifying thought that perhaps Potter knew about the Cup. But that was impossible. How could he possibly know?! More likely, confiscating her maiden vault was just part of Potter's broader plan to ruin her, and her Lord's treasure just happened to be caught in the middle. Still, it didn't lessen the disaster. Whether by intent or accident, Harry Potter could not be allowed to do this.

"I can challenge this," Bellatrix growled, knowing she had exactly thirty days to write to the Ministry and the goblins, challenging Potter's decision to seize her maiden vault. Given Potter was a criminal, a fugitive, and a filthy halfblood, it was practically certain she would succeed in overturning that decision, even if she failed to stop her banishment from House Black.

"We still have an agreement with Lord Potter," Hartstark pointed out while shaking his head. "Such agreements are not broken lightly... or cheaply," he added with a wink.

"Release me now... and you can have it all," Bellatrix offered, hating every word but knowing that nothing else would do. Her top priority was to secure her release, and to do that she had to beat Potter's offer. Besides, once she was free and the Cup was safe, she fully intended to slaughter the Order of Loki. Anything she had to give them in return would be a temporary loss at best – protecting the Cup was all that ultimately mattered.

"Interesting... all of it, you say?" Hartstark questioned, avarice practically beaming out of his wrinkled face.

"Yes, all of it… minus few family heirlooms and sentimental items," Bellatrix added cautiously. It was too much to hope Hartstark wouldn't ask her to elaborate on that, and so when he did she listed off about thirty different items, the Cup carefully and inconspicuously hidden among them.

Hartstark stared at her for a while after she was finished speaking, probably evaluating her offer. Still, Belatrix was confident he would accept as they would still be getting the vast majority of the vault. And all they had to do was break their agreement with a lying halfblood like Harry Potter – something she believed Order of Loki wouldn't have a problem with, seeing as they hated muggles.

Finally, the grandmaster turned to address his people, reminding Bellatrix of their presence. "Report," he addressed the woman who had earlier walked inside with him. Bellatrix was surprised to note the avarice was completely gone from his voice. In fact, his entire expression had changed from gleeful amusement to cold professionalism.

"Her anxiety levels spiked significantly on two occasions, Sir," she mentioned courteously, waving her wand in front of her as graphs and diagrams appeared in thin air. "First, when she was finished reading Lord Potter's letter, and second, when she mentioned her grandmother's cup."

Bellatrix's blood instantly turned to ice, even as Hartstark nodded at his underling. "Thank you, my dear," he said, and his eyes shifted onto Bellatrix. "I believe that is all we are going to get out of her," he declared loudly to seemingly no one in particular.

Or so it would seem. A moment later, a fourth person materialized out of thin air in front of her as he took off a cloak of invisibility from his back. "I think you are right, grandmaster," the very familiar young man declared in his sanctimonious voice, even as he looked at Bellatrix with righteous condemnation.

"POTTER!" Bellatrix started screaming, her words and mind incoherent. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING K – "


Harry watched with satisfaction as Karl Hartstark shot a gagging spell at the crazy bitch. Harry had been about to do the same, but the grandmaster had been faster, which was impressive given his age. He savoured the subsequent silence for a few seconds, already feeling a mild headache from listening to Bellatrix's senseless shouting.

"Did you get what you were hoping for, Mr. Potter?" Hartstark asked him, and Harry simply nodded, not elaborating further. The less the Order of Loki knew the better. The entire point of this exercise had been to try and make Bellatrix slip up about the Cup. Although Daphne and he had concluded it was most likely in her maiden vault, they didn't actually know that for a fact, all their evidence being circumstantial. It would be deeply embarrassing if they walked into Gringotts only to find the Cup wasn't actually in Bellatrix's vault – not to mention how it would completely screw up their plan.

But now… now Harry felt much more confident, not believing Bellatrix's story about her grandmother's favourite cup for a second. Smiling, he stepped forward even as Bellatrix struggled uselessly, both against her restraints and the gagging spell. A loud sound echoed in the cell as Harry slapped the restrained woman, making sure she wouldn't bite his fingers.

"Blood traitor," he hissed and spat in her face, symbolically completing Bellatrix's banishment from House Black. He leaned closer and whispered, "For Sirius..." He wasn't sure whether the crazy bitch heard or even understood his words, and he didn't care at this point.

"She's all yours," Harry addressed the grandmaster after stepping back from the prisoner. "Her sister wants her alive and unspoiled," he added with distaste. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellatrix stiffen at his remark before her struggles intensified, the knowledge that Narcissa Malfoy had thrown her under the bus seemingly driving her even more insane. "But there is no reason to be gentle with her," Harry added, looking at Hartstark seriously.

"You know young heir Longbottom, yes?" the grandmaster asked, and when Harry nodded, he added, "His maternal grandmother was a member of our Order," returning Harry's serious look.

Harry nodded again, and the two shook hands. With one last glance at Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry turned around and walked away, leaving the murderous bitch at the tender mercy of the Order of Loki.


Back at Greengrass Manor, Daphne was studying the family tapestry of House Black with great interest. It had been recovered from 12 Grimmauld Place and subsequently pinned to a wall inside her family gallery. The fact that Lady Greengrass now possessed the priceless heirloom of the Blacks was deeply amusing, but Daphne was too focused on studying the names on the tapestry to appreciate the irony. It seemingly showed the lineage of House Black for the last thousand years or so. Impressive, but she knew the Blacks were far older than that. With Kreacher's help, she had soon discovered it was possible to 'flip pages' on the tapestry, going back to even earlier generations.

It's what Daphne was doing right now, waving her wand repeatedly as the letters and dates on the tapestry kept rearranging. She was becoming more impressed by the minute. The Black family line clearly predated her own – Daphne already knew that. But if the tapestry was to be trusted, it might even be older than Atlantis!

Daphne would need to do some calculations to confirm that, but the dates seemed to match that theory. By the time she reached the very first page, the names on the family tree had long turned distinctly Elvish, which had been the custom of the early wizards and witches. That clearly lent credence to the idea the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black might actually be the most ancient. At the top of the first page was an Elvish inscription, which was another big surprise for Daphne, translating as House of Black and White. It would seem their family name had been shortened at some point as well. After the war, Daphne would have to thoroughly research the Black family's history if she hoped to truly understand what it meant to be their Lady. But for now, they faced far more pressing issues.

Daphne quickly waved her wand several times while muttering the incantation taught to her by Kreacher, fast-forwarding the tapestry back to the present day. Once that was done, she put her wand away and instead reached into her pocket, pulling out a cigarette holder. A cigarette was already attached to it, and Daphne eyed it warily, her lips pursed.

Among proper wizards and witches, smoking had traditionally been practiced by those with a talent for divination, valued for its trance-inducing properties. The rest was just self-indulgence, or worse, a muggle cultural import. In the last hundred years or so, smoking had been a relatively common sight among the mudblood servants of House Greengrass. Her family tended to... discourage it. After all, what was the point in mudblood smoking? It's not like they could ever have any real talent for divination.

Worse, it was a messy habit. When she was a child, Daphne could remember one foolish young mudblood leaving a cigarette butt lying somewhere in the gardens. Needless to say, her parents were not happy. The mudblood in question endured a brutal punishment and had to do a lot of grovelling before being forgiven. Today the man was still serving her family and as far as Daphne knew, the incident in her childhood had been the last time he ever touched a cigarette.

But as much a mudbloods smoking was a pointless indulgence, at least they weren't killing themselves like the muggles. That had been even greater shock to young Daphne than witnessing the foolish mudblood being punished for messing up their garden. The very idea muggles apparently practiced smoking on a massive scale, without any magic preventing the health damaging effects... and apparently, they were nowadays fully aware of what smoking was doing to them! It was insane. The first time her parents told her, she didn't want to believe them, thinking it a jest. She couldn't accept that like half of muggle population would knowingly and willingly poison their bodies. Yes, muggles were little better than animals, but surely even animals had a self-preservation instinct?!

Seeing her scepticism, her parents decided to take her and Astoria on a trip to Paris where they all went to a museum which, among others, displayed the various foolish and outright dangerous things muggles regularly practiced. There Daphne got to see lungs posthumously extracted from a heavy muggle smoker, displaying the massive damage. It wasn't a pretty picture and she could still remember tightly holding her sister's hand in fright even as they both watched the display with morbid fascination. What she saw reinforced her already negative opinion on muggles – because if they were willing to do something like this to themselves, they were easily capable of doing far worse to others.

So given her experiences and attitude, one might one wonder why Daphne was about to smoke now. The answer was simple – she wasn't.

With the cigarette holder in her hand, Daphne glanced to her right where Kreacher the house elf was standing on a chair so he could see better. The old elf was utterly still, watching her with big unblinking eyes, his mouth agape. The only movement he did was rubbing his hands in anticipation. Daphne smiled at him encouragingly before she tapped the holder with her finger, causing it to light up the cigarette. She then turned her attention to the tapestry, knowing Kreacher's eyes would be following her every move. Her own eyes instead focused on one particular name among the Black family tree – Bellatrix Lestrange.

Daphne smirked with satisfaction as she pressed the tip of the burning cigarette against the blood traitor's name, ceremoniously blasting it off the family tree.

The second she did that, Kreacher collapsed onto the chair like a puppet with its strings cut, moaning in ecstasy and crying happily. He went on and on about how Daphne was exactly like his old mistress, and how much he loved serving her.

"And House Black appreciates your service, Kreacher," she told him gently once he had calmed down enough to register her voice. The old elf jumped from the chair and bowed deeply at her feet in gratitude, his forehead touching the floor. Then he popped away. Once he was gone, Daphne chuckled in amusement, even as she put out the cigarette and placed the holder back into her pocket.

Daphne had been quite confused when Kreacher came to her, begging her to perform and let him witness this strange ritual Walburga Black apparently used to do when disinheriting members of her family. To be honest, Daphne was still very much confused. However, she was also aware that the old elf never asked for anything… ever. The fact he had asked for this now told her just how much it would mean to him. And Daphne was quite happy to reward him. Not only was he a good servant, but his help with handling the Black family affairs had been invaluable. Even the letter banishing Bellatrix from the family had been reviewed by him to ensure it fulfilled all the requirements. The elf had even added a few colorful phrases once they had explained to him all that Bellatrix had done.

In the end, Daphne had to admit watching Bellatrix's name burn away from the family tree had been a cathartic experience. The woman might be a pureblood, but her actions against the Longbottoms had crossed the line. To do something like that to purebloods had discredited her in the eyes of Daphne and her peers. It was why the Lestranges had been allowed to rot in prison despite Lucius' occasional attempts to have Bellatrix released. The other pureblood families wouldn't allow it – not even Daphne's father.

The day Bellatrix walked free had truly been a sad day for Magical Britain. Daphne smiled now, knowing that mistake had been corrected. The blood traitor had been banished and would be forever contained. Her official status after the war was going to be missing and presumed dead. Eventually, the world would forget all about her.

As for the other Lestranges, they would soon pay for their crimes as well. Even Bellatrix's accursed bastard would be dealt with. The infant was currently in the care of Euphemia Rowle, but Daphne had already spoken with their heir and her former boyfriend, Alfred. He had agreed to put the infant under heavy guard in the coming days. After the war was over and the dust settled, he had promised to hand it over to Daphne.

Just as she had agreed with Harry, they would have the infant's soul examined by world-leading experts. Should it be found mongrelized and diseased (a likely outcome, given the souls of her parents), the girl would be euthanized. Otherwise, Delphini Riddle would be allowed to live and grow up, unaware of her origin. Daphne already had a family in mind who could potentially adopt her. She would have a nice life there and be taught proper respect and obedience toward her superiors – something that had been severely lacking in her father.

Daphne's eyes shifted away from the smoking, burned-out crater where the blood traitor's name used to be, and over to her two sisters. Narcissa's name had always been there, but Harry and she had recently restored Andromeda Tonks née Black to the family tree. Harry had wished to do that, and Daphne had no objections. In her opinion, marrying a mudblood, while scandalous and obscene, shouldn't have gotten Andromeda banished in the first place. Besides, her mudblood husband had passed away, so the reasons for her banishment were no longer valid.

However, she did ask Harry to hold off on admitting Andromeda's daughter and newborn grandson for now. Daphne wasn't principally opposed to it, but there was a minor risk their sudden increase in status might appear on some official register. Daphne also wished to talk with Nymphadora first – to get the measure of her and see whether she would be willing to cooperate with Daphne as the soon-to-be Lady Black.

Finally, her eyes shifted to find the current Lord of House Black – Harry James Potter. His line, starting with Harry's great-grandmother Dorea Black, had been fully restored to the tapestry. A trivial task compared to Andromeda, seeing as Dorea and her line had never been officially banished in the first place. Daphne's finger traced her love's name on the tapestry, smiling dreamily as she imagined how her own name would soon appear next to his...

As if summoned by her thoughts, Daphne heard a loud pop from behind. She didn't panic, her magic telling her both who it was and that she was perfectly safe. A moment later, firm yet gentle hands enveloped her from behind.

"Good afternoon... my Lady Black," Harry Potter told her cheekily when he saw what she was doing. But he also kissed the nape of her neck lovingly, causing Daphne to lean into his touch for one blissful moment instead of complaining about halfbloods and their insolence.

"Mmm. Is it done?" she asked after nimbly turning in his arms to face him. Harry nodded, his hands resting on her hips while hers encircled his neck.

"It's done… we move as soon as we come back."

Daphne swallowed nervously, understanding what Harry meant by his strange remark. This was it – the point of no return. So far, they could have postponed or cancelled their plan, but not anymore. From now on, things could only end with Voldemort's death or... she didn't even want to think about it. A wave of trepidation and uncertainty surged through her. She must have trembled in Harry's arms, as he immediately reassured her with a tender kiss, effectively giving her a bit of his Gryffindor courage that she so desperately needed.

A minute later, they both felt the wards alerting them to two people entering Daphne's office. "We're uninjured," Harry noted, his eyes closed as he felt the manor's wards. Daphne nodded in agreement, relieved by that information. At the same time, a bit of her previous trepidation returned, but this time she was ready to face it, knowing Harry was with her. A large part of their victory plan rested on correct timing. A lot of different things had to happen in a short span of time. So much so that they would need to be in two places at the same time to manage them all...

With that thought, Daphne unclasped the gold chain of the time-turner from around her neck, looping it around them with practiced efficiency. She didn't protest as Harry reached for the hourglass, allowing him to set the number of turns, as he knew exactly how far back they needed to go.

After confirming with her that they wouldn't run into Daphne's past self at that time, Harry let the hourglass spin, causing the world around them to swirl and reverse as they flew back. Once the world stilled again, Daphne smiled at him, removing the golden chain and glancing around the gallery. Aside from the countless portraits of her ancestors, some of which were watching them with curiosity, they were alone. Daphne took notice of the Black family tapestry and Bellatrix's name being back on it. 'Not for long,' she thought vindictively, even as she clasped Harry's hand in hers.

"Come, love. Let us go see the goblins," she beckoned.

Having to deal with goblins was one of the surest ways for a wizard or witch to get a headache, so normally Daphne would never utter the sentence with such enthusiasm. But this time, they would be destroying a Horcrux in the process. Surely a minor headache was a worthy price for one-seventh of Voldemort's soul…