March 1997: Nineteen Fifty One
The dark haired boy pulled up his glasses that slid down his nose. He was lying on his belly, limbs spread across the mattress as he stared at the wooden trunk that lay beside his bed. Inside was a bunch of items, thrown together.
"Look for what I might have omitted Harry" Dumbledore had said before he had entrusted him with the belongings of that one woman.
Inside, the Headmaster had placed a pile of photographs and many glass vials. He had even lent the boy a small pensieve bowl on which stood the thick grey folder that Harry had previously encountered on the wizard's desk.
Harry glanced at the capital letters on the front cover.
"The Selwyn Case"
A plain title for the wacky woman who had married Voldemort, if you asked him.
The Gryffindor heaved a sigh. He would rather go sit outside with his friends… He had already taken a quick look at all that junk but nothing had seemed actually useful.
A red-haired head appeared suddenly in the door left ajar.
"You're still at this?" he asked with a disapproving frown. "It's sunny outside. Hermione wants to go for a walk. You should come. It'll be good for you" he declared with a tilt of the head, indicating the closest window through which the sunbeam was lightening their dorm.
—
The trio was sitting under the castle's apple tree, the bare branches gently moving in the breeze. The weather was surprisingly clement for an early spring and Harry realised how much the fresh air had helped lifting his mood.
"Show me the photos" said the girl with frizzy hair.
Harry had decided that if he had to go through this, he could as well include his friends. He took out a paper kraft envelop from the inside of his robe and handed it to her. The package was thick, for he had added a few more snapshots to the collection he had initially seen in Dumbledore's office.
"By Merlin" blurted Hermione as she pulled out the first photograph.
"Who would have thought…?" she whispered and shook her head in disbelief as she watched the group of guests posing around the young married couple.
She moved to the next image, glancing at the portrait of the young woman who stood alone on the picture with her enormous bridal bouquet. Hermione's fingers grazed at the print before she discarded it on the bench. She pulled out the next snapshot, stared at young Voldemort and his wife walking towards the camera.
"They actually look…" she began but her words died in her throat and Harry finished her sentence for her, recognising in his friend the same incredulity he had felt the first time he had looked himself at the photos.
"They look happy"
Silence fell over the three of them like a thick wool blanket. They were very still for a while, nothing around them to be heard except the chirping of house sparrows.
"What do we know about her?"
"So far? Pure-blood. Rich. Beautiful, obviously" he indicated the portraiture that lay on the bench with a nod of the head.
"Slytherin" chimed in Ron with a snort.
"Actually not. Ravenclaw…"
The red-haired boy frowned.
"Her father was Amsden Selwyn. He was a member of the Wizengamot and descendent of Simone Salvin. The enchantress" he specified.
"Her mother was originally from Cairo but relocated to the UK after she married her father. She was the only daughter of one of the former presidents of the International Confederation of Wizards"
"Which one?"
Hermione looked up and Harry found himself racking his brain for the name.
"The one who attempted a coup in Egypt?" he tried hesitantly.
"Al Aqrab Shafik" declared Hermione with pursed lips as she glanced at the next picture.
"He did not do attempt a coup though, he tried to stir up a revolution… He was a pure-blood supremacist and strongly opposed the British colonisation that also operated at the wizarding level" she pursued.
Of course she would know such things, thought Harry.
"Is she still alive?" asked the girl.
Harry nodded and Ron winced.
"I don't have any more information though. Dumbledore avoids the topic every time I bring it up. I think he's afraid that we might want to pay her a visit"
Ron let out a small humourless laugh.
"Oh right, like going to have a tea with some Death Eater who married You-Know-Who is totally on our list of plans for the summer holidays"
"We actually don't know if she's a Death Eater" responded Harry.
"Oh yeah? Who said that?" added the red-haired boy with an ironic eyebrow.
"Dumbledore. Her friends… Apparently she helped the Ministry during the war"
He fell quiet, realising how unconvincing his argument sounded. She could as well be a double agent, couldn't she? It would not be the first time Voldemort let some of his people infiltrate the ranks of his opponents under cover…
"We also know that she was imprisoned in Azkaban for a murder, ten years after their wedding"
He quickly added, to shush Ron who had opened his mouth as if ready to prove his point.
"Dumbledore is convinced that she was innocent and I'm fairly certain that Voldemort framed her… He was interested in some relics the victim owned"
Hermione nodded, her uncombed hair framing her face in a tangle of curls. She shot the boys a coy glance before she stuttered:
"Do we know if he…" she chewed on her lower lip. "It sounds silly but… Do we know if they loved each other?"
Ron looked at Hermione like if she had lost her mind.
"It's a valid question" she defended herself. "Maybe something happened? Maybe she was the reason why he became who he became?"
"Come on now, don't fuck with me" groaned Ron with a shake of the head. "That guy was a psychopath ever since the day he was born"
Harry flattened some folds his trousers had made on his thigh before he mentioned:
"In the context of the trial for the murder she was accused of, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement interviewed people who knew them both from school. Most of them said that he married her for her all the bad reasons"
Hermione's fingers scoured the various snapshots.
"Her money, her name, her network…" recounted the dark-haired boy. "One person even pointed out that he was offered a very important position at the Ministry when he married her"
"Because of her father?" assumed Hermione and Harry nodded:
"I don't really see love fitting into the picture"
The girl kept adding photographs to the pile of discarded prints until she made a strangled sound.
"What?"
The girl raised one picture in front of her face, her eyes wide and Ron snatched it out of her hands. He gasped as well, stunned, and Harry glanced at the image over his friend's shoulder.
He knew that picture. It belonged to the category Dumbledore had indicated were private photos that belonged to the couple, that the Ministry had taken away from them during the First Wizarding War. The woman was standing in front of the sea, her back turned to the camera. Her hair was flying in the wind, a pair of flat sandals in hand.
Harry knew she would turn around and smile, reveal her swollen belly squeezed into a one-piece swimsuit costume.
He repeated Dumbledore's words in the hope to lessen his friends's fright the same way the news had alleviated his.
"She lost the child" he exclaimed. "She was sent to Azkaban while she was pregnant and gave birth there but the child died a few weeks after"
Dealing with Voldemort was worrisome enough. No need to add a lunatic offspring to the whole equation.
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times before Hermione frowned and took back the picture away from the red-haired boy. She raised the print in the air against the sun and looked at its back.
Harry distinguished a very pale blue mark, just like if some inked inscription once existed but had not stood the test of time.
"Nineteen-" began Hermione with her brows furrowed.
"Is that a seven?" she asked as she handed Ron the picture.
"Yep" he nodded before he squinted and lifted the print too, his eyes not larger than two cracks.
"1947" he finally disclosed and Hermione looked dazed.
"When did you say she was framed for that murder again?"
—
"All right" sighed Hermione with both hands gripping the table. "Let's do this"
"Do what?" asked the red-haired boy as he threw a chocolate egg in his mouth.
"Search for evidences" she declared before she rolled up her sleeves and opened the trunk. The lid fell back in a loud thud that resonated within their common room. To their luck, almost all Gryffindors were gone for Easter Monday and they had the room to themselves.
"Especially regarding that one pregnancy. I have the feeling there is a connection somewhere" she added as she took out the pensieve bowl and placed it on the table between them.
"Are we even sure she was pregnant?" asked Ron and the corners of his mouth dropped in disgust as he glanced at the snapshot he still had in hand.
"Maybe she just ate too much that day"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"This is not a food baby Ron" she said as she poked at the photograph with her index finger. "People can't have their stomach stretched like that just because they had some extra pudding"
"All right" sighed the boy with a scowl. "But I hope you're very aware of what you're implying Hermione. Because if she's pregnant that means that she and You-Know-Who had to…"
"They had to…"
The girl with frizzy hair looked up, glancing at the boy who seemed not to know how to finish his sentence. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.
"You mean they had to have sex?"
Ron's ears reddened and Hermione turned her eyes to Harry who looked away under her severe glance.
"You both are children" she groaned as she resumed to take out the various items from the trunk.
"Of course they had sex" she rolled her eyes. "People have sex, that's how babies are made. And we already know from a reliable source that she was pregnant once"
"Well, we don't know if it was his" added Ron once he seemed to have recovered.
"And we don't know if it was consented" chimed in Harry.
Hermione darted them a forbidding glance and shivered at the last eventuality. She looked at that one snapshot again and her features softened.
"Let's not dive too fast in hideous theories. We don't know what happened to her. But we'll have to find out, because Dumbledore asked you"
"Well he didn't specifically ask about the pregnancy" interjected Harry who wriggled on his seat. He had little knowledge about childbearing but he was not sure whether it was necessary for him to become any more proficient on the latter. Especially when it concerned the lover of the man who so desperately tried to kill him…
"Have you had a look at all the memories yet?" asked the girl who ignored his remark. Her fingers grazed at the countless glass ampuls that contained all the testimonies the Ministry had successfully extracted from various people during her trial, and later, during the First Wizarding War, as an attempt to comprehend who the hell was the Dark Lord.
Harry shook his head guiltily, recalling how he had been slacking off regarding the vials' collection. In his defence, the pensieve made him dizzy and he hated feeling like he was prying into someone else's memories.
Especially the ones that included Voldemort.
"The Ministry really made a bloody mess" she mumbled as she noticed the lack of stickers on most of the flasks, or anything that indicated to whom those memories belonged.
"I suppose we'll have to sort these out ourselves… We need to advance chronologically" she stated as she pulled out her notebook and drew a straight line in the middle of the page. She crossed the line diagonally twice, inscribing dates and their related events:
"1945 - Wedding"
"1955 - Trial + Azkaban + Pregnancy (Confirmed)"
Further down the line, she repeated the same gesture:
"1947 - Pregnancy" before she slowly moved her quill to add one last word, between brackets "Assumed".
Harry watched Hermione's hand hover above the multiple vials before her fingers suddenly stopped over one ampul.
"Let's start with this one" she issued as she casted as spell to fill the pensieve with water.
"Try to find anything that might tell us to whom this memory may belong. And think about the date! Search for a calendar hanging from a wall or an opened newspaper… Anything" she ordered as she uncorked the vial and poured its content inside the swirling water.
"See you there" she nodded firmly as the two boys watched her dip her forehead inside the liquid.
—
Harry landed in a smoky room, music blasting in the background. The place was cramped, and smelled of whiskey and tobacco. Harry located Ron and weaved in and out towards him before he was joined in no time by Hermione.
"It's too crowded" she complained. "It'll be impossible to figure out whose memory it is"
They made their way to an empty corner where they could take in the room. On their right stood a wooden bar, behind which different bottles moved magically in the air, pouring their content into greasy glasses. Above it stood a round signboard that showed a white dragon with two feet. A wyvern, noticed Harry.
At the counter sat a few men, most of them wearing the hood of their cloak which granted them some privacy. The others, whose faces were revealed, had grim expressions and sharp and unwelcoming features. Some were talking to one another, the others sat in silence, sipping their drinks.
It was only when he noticed the tattoo a few of them were showing on their arm that Harry understood where they had landed.
They were standing in the middle of a Death Eaters' hideout…
"There's Dolohov" squeaked Hermione next to him and his eyes acknowledged who the bartender was. A pain as sharp as a blade sliced through his heart as he recalled the battle that took place about a year ago, at the Department of Mysteries. Where he had lost Sirius. Where that man who now stood behind the counter, light-heartedly bantering with customers, had been fighting. Harry felt nauseous, his hand in a fist as he felt anger gripping his chest but he was being interrupted by Ron.
"She's there" whispered the red-haired boy with a tilt of the head and Harry peeked on his left.
Furnitures had been pushed to the side to allow for a makeshift dancefloor where a group of people was wiggling, their hips swaying rhythmically. Some frenzied rhythm and blues air began to blast through the unseeable speakers and the crowd whooped. Soon enough, he spotted her.
She was hard to miss, with her wintry eyes and her glossy brown hair. Harry watched her dance with an unshakable confidence, her baby blue dress billowing around her. She was moving with grace, soon joined by a handsome blond man who reached for her hands and made her spin. They danced together, their bodies in unison which made Harry think that the two young people must have known each other fairly well for prancing in such harmony….
At one point, she spun, her pirouette too quick for her own good and she grasped the man's shoulders to steady herself as she bursted in laughter. The feverish music ended, swiftly replaced by a slower song when they stopped. The man smiled at her and dropped a curtsy before he was being dragged by somebody else, another woman who pulled him towards her.
The so-called Annabel stood alone in the crowd, surrounded by dancing couples. She turned on her feet and Harry followed her gaze, that settled on one group of people that sat in the back of the room.
"Come on, darling" she called. "I'm all lonely here. Come dance with me" she asked with a small pleading voice. Harry found it almost sweet, and noticed how it sounded so strikingly different from the tone she had used with that Ministry's employee in that other memory he had seen.
Suddenly, the dark-haired boy heard how Ron gulped, and he felt how Hermione's hand grab his.
A voice raised from the back of the room, rich and soft.
"If you'll excuse me, duty calls" said young Voldemort as he stood up with an unstudied poise, dismissing the group of people that was circling him.
Harry watched how the man headed towards the woman with a fluidity that reminded him of a panther, his pace slow and assured. He noticed how Voldemort took in the woman with a feral glance, how tiny she seemed before him as he approached. Harry found himself wanting to scream for her to leave, to hide, but there she stood, looking all proud that the man had acceded to her wish.
Harry felt how Hermione's grip tightened as they watched the Dark Lord seize her by the shoulders, and he winced, fearing for might come next, a shake or a push, a slap, a curse? He almost closed his eyes when he saw Voldemort raise his hand in front of her face…
It took a while for Harry to realise that his mouth was opened, that his heart had skipped a beat as he watched the couple kiss and slowly begin to dance. Lazily they swayed, eyes tender and gentle smiles, mouthing words that he could not hear, that belonged to them only.
Harry felt Hermione's hand pull on his as the memory began to blur and in no time, he landed in the Gryffindor common room.
They stared into nothingness for a while before Hermione reached for a her quill with shaky fingers.
She cleared her throat.
"Erm, does anyone know when this might have taken place?" she asked, her voice quacking.
"It must be 1951" mumbled Ron with a scowl.
"It's when that song came out" he shrugged, before adding, at the sight of the confused glances the two others darted him:
"Rocket 88 by Jackie Brenston and his Delta Cats? Big hit, even in the wizarding world. My grandpa loved that song"
Author's note: All right guys, summer holidays are over and I'll resume to weekly updates! I apologise for the typos in this chapter, I initially intended to post later but my plans changed and this is me briefly editing at the university library before I can have some time off, lol. Thank you so much again for those of you who have favourited/followed this story and for the amazing reviews this story got to far! I'm always happy to read your thoughts, even a smiley so feel free to let me know if you liked that chapter/story. I wish you a lovely week-end :)