A/N: This chapter and the next are a little shorter than usual—decided to do a split down the middle. So this half is Bellatrix and the next one is Harry.

I do not own Harry Potter unlike J.K.

The Tragedy of Harry Potter

By. Momento Virtuoso
Edited By: Menaka

Chapter 19

A Portrait Out of Time

Bellatrix stormed through the corridors, tears stinging her eyes from her confrontation with Harry Evans. She didn't know why she had let herself slip, but the weight of her confession crashed over her like a wave.

'Stupid. Stupid. What were you expecting? That the bigot would understand?' Bellatrix seethed at herself.

She criticized the piece of her that wanted to be adored by those around her. She should have been the family's pride. Instead, that honor belonged to Sirius and Regulus—both of whom had betrayed their house's ideals. She wasn't even her parents' own favorite, with their constant blind eye towards Andromeda's relationship; though even she too was sold as pawns to their aunt's machinations. Then, Harry Evans, a stranger with no vendetta against her, looked at her with even more scorn than she would grace a blood traitor; and that shattered something deep inside.

Bellatrix made her way to the dungeons, her steps heavy. For once, she didn't care—she sought the comfort of her sisters, whether they welcomed her or not.

She had barely gone a few steps when a melodic hum drifted through the corridor, stirring memories of nursery rhymes sung by her grandparents. Following the sound, Bellatrix's eyes widened as she spotted her youngest sister, Narcissa, skipping down a crossroad corridor, clutching packages in her arms.

Curiosity gnawing at her, Bellatrix followed her sister deeper into the dungeons. Oddly, Narcissa didn't head toward the Common Room but further, going even past Slughorn's potions lab.

Narcissa halted before the door of an unused potions lab.

Bellatrix slid her wand from underneath the sleeve of her robe, casting a Silencing Charm to muffle her footfalls and still the sounds of her body. Moving silently, she ducked behind a suit of armor just as Narcissa spun around, scanning the corridor before turning back to the door.

Bellatrix watched warily as Narcissa knocked then slipped inside, nudging the door shut with her foot. Seizing the opportunity, Bellatrix jabbed her wand forward, stopping the door just before it clicked shut, leaving it slightly ajar.

At first, the voices inside were muffled. But with a quick tap of her wand against her temple, they swelled to clarity. No longer needing to strain her ears from the corridor, it was as if she stood inside the room itself.

Bellatrix's breath froze in her lungs as a deep, baritone voice greeted Narcissa.

Behind the potions lab door, Severus Snape carefully poured a vial of sluggish yellow potion into a container brimming with a bubbling, hissing substance.

He had secured the space from Professor Slughorn with the promise of sharing the profits from his brewing. What Severus chose not to reveal was that his brewing wasn't for profit, prestige, or even himself—but for the Dark Lord alone. Everything simmering in his cauldrons and vials was a tribute to cement his standing in the movement, to prove to himself and the Dark Lord that he was worthy of more.

On the day Severus secured his place among the Dark Lord's acolytes, the Dark Lord had taken him aside, speaking in hushed tones of potions and the greatness he envisioned for him. Upon returning to Hogwarts, Severus wasted no time securing Slughorn's permission to claim a workspace.

Across his work station, an array of potions sat ready to be harvested and bottled, each distinct in composition and effects. One potion flickered between states—suspended as a gas before condensing into liquid, only to shift again. Many more potions sat in different states of matter, some chunky like dried blood, and others a liquid so fine they could only be handled with droppers than a ladle.

Severus set to work, carefully sealing flasks brimming with multicolored liquids, slipping into a trance of precision.

The lab was his sanctuary, a haven free from his housemates' judgment and the Marauders' torment. Here, in this world of summering cauldrons and quiet contemplation, he had never uttered the unforgivable slur which cost him the only person who had shown him kindness without any motive. Here, he could pretend that the half-blood heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Prince was content; that one day Lily Evans would greet him in friendship through that door again.

However, his peace was disturbed by a knock at the door, the sound echoing off the walls and flasks.

Pausing in his task, Severus's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered who was possibly at his door. "Come in," his deep baritone voice rang out.

The door opened to reveal Narcissa Black, who meekly stepped over the threshold into the workspace, she gently kicked the door back behind her, nearly closing it.

"Severus! Severus! I just received a letter from Lucius. He also sent this to be delivered to you," Narcissa exclaimed, offering out the sealed missive to him.

Severus sneered at the notion of Lucius sending something through another rather than delivering it himself.

He scrutinized the marked letter in suspicion before snatching it briskly from Narcissa's out-stretched hand. Turning the envelope over, Severus inspected its legitimacy closely, reading the familiar script and pausing to discern the magical seal which bore the Malfoy crest. He could only conclude it truly was from Lucius.

Severus' attention was seized by an aura of privacy magic from the crest's seal which prickled beneath his fingers. Pushing his eye closer, Severus could make out the small runes embedded in the pressed wax.

'Protected from anyone but me opening it,' he mused. His eyes flickered up to Narcissa's face briefly, making note of her observing him closely. He wanted to sneer at the girl, loathing her nosiness but instead he paid her no mind. Turning his back to her, he drew his wand and finally cracked the letter open with a twitch of his hand; splitting the wax perfectly in half.

Severus carefully examined the contents within—pressed poison cuttings from lethal herbs and plants, each magically affixed to the parchment covered in more of Lucius' scrawl. With deliberate precision, he pried them free, lifting each with the tip of his wand, and placing each deadly herb in empty jars situated on the workbench. He sealed the containers before skimming the letter's written contents.

He was to produce a potion for Lucius' use, a task which was clad in secrecy based on provided ingredients and the measures taken on their delivery within the envelope—except that it was handed to him by a fourth-year girl. 'He must have only warded it against foes,' Severus surmised as he scanned the contents once again, concluding the potion's purpose was left deliberately vague, whether for Lucius, their master, or the cause itself.

The letter also carried further details involving a clandestine meeting in the Forbidden Forest.

Severus finished reading and looked up, finding Narcissa rocking restlessly on her heels. "I suppose I should thank you for delivering this to me, Narcissa. However, Lucius is not one for indirect dealings," Severus remarked, looming over the girl like a bat draped in shadow. "How did this come to be in your possession?"

The way Narcissa's cheeks flushed, her gaze darting away, told Severus everything he needed to know. "Snooping through other people's mail now, are we? Severus shook his head, tsking. "For shame, Narcissa. I thought you would have been raised better."

"Yes, yes alright! I stole it from the Owlery when my own was delivered. I was waiting for a letter from Lucius—and I saw the bird carrying yours this morning too," Narcissa admitted.

Severus' mind churned at the sheer recklessness of the girl before him. Their letters were never meant for the Owlery, only to be exchanged by hand, hidden in the morning's chaos. It was the easiest way to hide their correspondence amongst thousands of other letters when Lucius forwent using his family's eagle.

"Were you seen?" Severus bit out.

Narcissa shook her head, too quick, too exaggerated earning another wave of irritation from Severus.

"Maybe? Only once—I was careful though—no one important like a professor saw me! Just one student with glasses in the Owlery, who was looking at the owls," Narcissa responded meekly.

"You foolish girl! Malfoy correspondence is scrutinized, do you realize the risk you've just created?" Severus shouted in a sharp breath before counting down from three as he attempted to regain his composure. "What were you thinking—what possessed you to snoop through our mail?" He repeated his question for a final time.

"I wanted—needed to confirm a rumor I heard from Juliette, who heard it from her brother, Jaxian. Is there to be a meeting somewhere on the school grounds? Will Lucius be near the school?" she asked Severus, whose eyes only widened.

'Gossiping schoolgirls will be the death of us all,' Severus thought furiously. How could Parkinson slip such a vital piece of information to his sister? How, in Morgana's name, had only Mulciber and Avery been found out so far he could only guess.

Severus' lips curled into a fierce scowl. "Be careful what you believe—or hear, Narcissa. You never know who else might be listening," Severus warned, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Believe what you will, but understand this. Higher wizards and witches than your betrothed have suffered consequences for betraying the Dark Lord's secrets."

Vindication settled in as Narcissa swallowed hard, the weight of her words finally dawning on her.

"I didn't mean for anything to happen, I swear! I–I wanted to know so I could ask if it was possible to attend as well," Narcissa appealed.

"No," Severus answered coldly. "You shouldn't even know this much. I will not endanger you further by direct implication. Nor will I risk the others by dragging you along. As you must have realized, it is for the initiated alone," he drawled mockingly. "Which you are not amongst—despite your status beside Lucius."

"I would never endanger you! I'm just as much a part of this as any of you, I can be initiated!" Narcissa claimed as she took a step forward in anger.

Severus however wasn't bowed or amused by the fourth-year witch's school girls' antics. 'She'll ruin everything… We'll all be in chains before Christmas,' Severus thought grimly, lamenting the liability that was Narcissa Black.

"Initiated? You?" Severus scoffed, his disdain plain. "Merlin forbid. You do not want such a thing, Narcissa. Believe me."

"I do! To stand by Lucius' side! I could do it—I'm stronger than you think, Severus Snape!" Narcissa bit out but to Severus it looked like she was performing behind a mask. "Alecto made it! So why can't I? Why can you all serve the cause and I can't?"

"Do not claim that which you cannot conjure, Narcissa. Has Lucius told you the price? Has he spoken to you at all—even once of the deed that must be performed? The Dark Lord demands a steep payment to even cross his threshold, Black," Severus hissed, his eyes darkening as the memory of his own initiation flooded his mind. He felt his nerves burning as his ears listened to a spell of his own creation repeated over and over between his ears before the smell of iron flooded his nose as if his victim was kneeling before him once more. 'That's right—' he recalled, 'we didn't even let them stand.'

A bitter taste rose in his throat at what he had become—for power, for acceptance, for respect.

Severus had always been sharp-tongued, mean-spirited even—but cruelty? That had not been his nature. Not until the Dark Lord made it so. Beneath his gaze, Severus had held captives; muggles who he found despicable beneath the Cruciatus Curse.

When the deed was finally done, Severus looked to the Dark Lord and met the man's eyes. He saw pleasure reflected in them as the Dark Lord nodded in approval at his resolve. It caused a warmth to spread within him like a child receiving their father's approval. An odd sensation for Severus to experience for the first time.

Turning back to the young girl before him, Severus' voice was barely above a whisper. "Torture, Narcissa. Merciless, relentless torture. A Muggle, a Muggleborn, a Blood traitor—whoever they've thrown into the dungeon that day. Could you do it? Hold the curse until their eyes burst like crushed grapes?" Severus described the graphic details as they swam in his eyes like a pensieve memory. "Could you end a life?"

"I—I don't know," Narcissa muttered, her earlier bravado wilting. "I think I could?"

"You don't know… but you want to try anyway?" Severus questioned, wondering if the girl truly had what it took. Narcissa looked fragile to him—her lithe body like a twig which could break beneath even a soft wind. "Who put such notions in your head? Was it Alecto? Or your aunt?" he bit out, wondering if the woman was grooming her nieces now, afraid her second son would ultimately be a failure.

"You should dismiss such ideals. You could never stomach it, Narcissa. You lack the resolve the Dark Lord demands," Severus spoke slowly, his voice teetering on something almost kind. "Your place is not amongst our ranks but with Lucius—at his side."

Severus didn't want to be cruel but he needed Narcissa to be anything but love struck and oblivious to the truth of the world around her. He was angry with the young girl and her childish views and he was angry with the Parkinsons for revealing anything to her in the first place, intentional or not. But he needed to curb Narcissa's foolish ambitions—none of them could afford even a whisper of suspicion, not after Avery and Mulciber.

Better the staff believed all the would-be dark wizards had fled.

Suddenly, Severus was overtaken by a need to distract himself from the subdued Narcissa. He occupied his mind with the shopping list of poisons that Lucius gave him, and rattled off the side effects in his head. The clippings would create a potion which would kill swiftly—an invisible hand around the throat, scentless, traceless, and dissolving in moments.

The only way to find the culprit—unless caught immediately— would be to confiscate the equipment which produced it. With this, Lucius would be complicit in murder, there was no doubt—he must have trusted him not to leave such evidence after the brewing. It was the only reason Severus could think of the man's request for his skill and assistance.

Severus wasn't sure how he felt about this task. His fingers, trained for precision, hesitated. He hadn't sunk as far as some of his peers in the murky waters of their discarded morals. Murder was not yet a stain on his soul.

"It's a request… but is it truly a choice?" Severus thought grimly, wondering who Lucius had marked for death.

Thinking of his friend, Severus' gaze slipped to the man's betrothed for a moment, who seemed to be battling something within her own mind. He wondered about what would murder do to a girl like her—to someone like himself. What was it already doing to the rest of them?

Severus sighed, not wanting any of it on his conscience but perhaps he could spare hers?

"Forget what you've heard, Narcissa. Please?" Severus softly requested. "The meeting is need-to-know. And you don't need to know. Do you understand?" he repeated again with a great stress to his lint. "Stop pursuing Lucius like this. He doesn't need your presence in our circles but your solace when he's away from them."

Narcissa nodded as tears started to flow from the corner of her eyes. It nearly broke Severus but he continued on.

"Your presence would be unwelcome. And Lucius—he couldn't afford to tolerate such a misstep before certain… individuals," Severus suggested, hinting to the young girl that there were those amongst their number who would seek to prey upon any weakness of her future husband. In their pureblooded circle, Lucius' inability to control his future wife would be a deep embarrassment. Already, many of them were at each other's throats, jockeying against one another for the Dark Lord's prestige. "Trust me, Narcissa. This is what's best for both of you. Lucius doesn't need you in our ranks. He needs you to keep his secrets safe," he advised.

"You're right. Of course you're right. I'm sorry, Severus." Narcissa said, her voice faltering. "I shouldn't have—I wasn't thinking clearly. I heard Lucius might attend, and I won't see him until the Yule Ball. Aunt Walburga's invited a lot of Lucius' and Regulus' circle. Would you care to attend? I could get you an invitation, as an apology for my behavior," Narcissa offered.

Severus nodded, his agreement a mere formality. He wanted to throw her offer back at her, the thought of entering Sirius Black's home a bitter pill, but he knew it would dishonor Lucius.

"That would… be acceptable, Miss. Black," Severus addressed Narcissa formally. "I appreciate your kindness," he lied, the words tasting sour in his mouth.

A smile broke out onto Narcissa's face and Severus did his best to hide his scoff. "If you don't mind, I have potions to tend to—and I'd prefer not to expose you to the fumes." Severus drew his wand and cast the Bubble-head Charm on himself before getting to work, pointedly turning his back on the witch.

"I'll have an invitation drafted then! Thank you, Severus," Narcissa paused for a moment. "And I'm sorry—for any trouble I caused you, Lucius, and the others. I'll do what you advised," Narcissa gestured to the letter, but Severus pretended not to hear her through the charm.

Noting her dismissal, Narcissa turned and pushed open the door. Its hinges creaked faintly as she left the lab.

Across the dungeons, the glow of the Black Lake broke through the windows of the Slytherin's Common Room, casting an ethereal light that gave the space the aura of a sunken ruin. The only source of warmth was the fireplace, its eternal flames crackling in defiance of the room's cold, eerie ambiance. It was a gathering spot in theory, but mostly because of the portrait above the mantle. Often driven by inner-house politics— but even more by the imposing portrait mounted above the mantle over the flames— a permanent guardian to the fixture of the Common Room like an artist's rendition of a human-gargoyle on oil and canvas.

The painting was encased in a silver and emerald frame, depicting a witch with dark black hair pulled into a bun beneath a veil. Her attire, a flowing black dress from a bygone era, gave her the appearance of perpetual mourning. She was known only as "the Widow", a name passed down through generations of Slytherins. Her true story was unknown, though a ring—a Claddagh, they whispered—was said to adorn her left hand. Yet no one had ever seen it clearly; she always concealed it beneath her other hand.

Her amber eyes surveyed the room with an air of disapproval. She never spoke, but her presence was enough to deter students from lingering too long in the common room.

Regulus Black sat alone before the fire, a book resting in his lap. He glanced up at the Widow's somber figure, her gaze as indifferent to him as it was to everyone else.

Regulus couldn't help but think the portrait resembled the sternness which his mother carried herself with. He thought of the corrosive witch and all she had burdened him with. Suddenly, his attention was seized by a harsh voice standing over him, and for a moment, Regulus thought his mother had somehow infiltrated Hogwarts to harass him.

" … Black, look up at me when I'm talking to you, you pathetic spare!" Rodolphus Lestrange growled.

Regulus looked up from his book to find Rodolphus looming over him, his eyes sharp with scrutiny. A shiver crept up his spine, but he forced himself to remember Avery and Mulciber, their wands pressed against his skin, their cruelty a ghost of the past.

'They can't hurt me anymore. I'm not alone anymore.' He thought of his cousin and the commitment of his house words.

"Apologies, Rodolphus. I was deep in my studies. Arabic spells take some kind to decipher and translate." Regulus said diplomatically as he slammed his book shut but Rodolphus seemed incited at his response. The older acolyte leaned in, his voice dropping low to ensure no one else could hear.

"Do not refer to me with such commonality or veiled friendship, Black!" Rodolphus hissed through clenched teeth, his jaw tightening with restrained fury. "Listen closely, twerp. I won't say it again. You're to meet with Snape—four weeks' time. He'll take you to a gathering in the Forbidden Forest. We're all being summoned. Together." Rodolphus' tone left no room for argument.

Despite feeling braver and rebellious, Regulus nodded to Rodolphus, opting to follow and bid in the shadows for now. "On school grounds? That's… risky, Lestrange." Regulus murmured conspiratorially.

"Forbidden Forest." Rodolphus repeated, his tone unwavering. "We have a key to the school's ward scheme, a gift from our friend on the Board. Attendance isn't optional—Lucius' orders," Rodolphus revealed.

"We could be discovered—are you sure this is wise?" Regulus questioned, confident for a moment. "After what just happened, this is a risk. Patrols have increased. Merlin knows what else the staff have put in place," he stressed.

Rodolphus eyed him oddly. "Wise or not doesn't matter, Black, if it is the Dark Lord's will. If we're summoned, we go. Simple as that," he stated coldly, observing Regulus with a suspicious glint.

To Regulus, the older wizard's voice was that of an adult, explaining the ways of the world to a child.

"You aren't having any doubts, are we now, Black?" Rodolphus inquired, raising his brow at the fourth-year.

"No, but I'd rather not be left behind with Barty while the rest of you bolt or get caught," Regulus denied, glaring at Rodolphus with disdain.

Rodolphus stared Regulus down for a moment. "Worry about yourself first, Black. Our ascensions before the eyes of the Dark Lord are secure—yours? Well, despite what your mother claims, your grandfather's opinions are… revealing. Makes me wonder how far you've fallen from the family tree," Rodolphus speculated. "I can only hope for my own betrothal's sake that your cousin is of better stock than you."

"Far enough," Regulus equivocated, recalling the feel of Bellatrix's hug around himself and her promise. "Bellatrix is the best of us, Blacks. You'd do well to remember that, Lestrange," Regulus said, though he knew challenging Rodolphus wasn't wise. Still, an insult to Bellatrix made his blood simmer.

"Oh I'd wager a few galleons she is," Rodolphus leered lewdly.

"The meeting—what's it about?" Regulus asked, steering the conversation away from his cousin. Though he was wary of another scheme, Regulus had no interest in letting Rodolphus drag Bellatrix into his contempt.

"Who's to say? The Dark Lord only knows what's simmering in either Malfoy's head. I've been assured in a letter from Lucius that they can safely make it in and back through the wards with no issue. We only need to navigate the forest ourselves," Rodolphus speculated, earning a nod from Regulus.

Though his body could physically lie, inwardly, Regulus could only sigh in exhaustion to himself.

He was tired of all the cloak and dagger they needed to perform. Each new plot was another stain to his family's honour—and the oath bound to his blood. Part of him hoped this would be the last for a while, but he knew better.

The same could not be said for the wizard standing over him though. Regulus had seen Rodolphus revel in the morning papers, silently gloating alongside his brother over the latest accounts of their movement's handiwork. Both Lestrange twins claimed it was them finally stepping out of the shadows outside in the world—and soon they could do so freely within the castle.

Regulus had no doubt that both Lestranges lived for the chance to torment any Muggle-born or half-blood who crossed their paths, sneering at the school's rules and labeling its enforcers feeble.

"After Avery and Mulciber's last debacle, it'll need to be flawless—whatever it is," Regulus argued.

"Oh, shut it already, Black! It's just a meeting. It's not like we're assassinating the Minister of Magic," Rodolphus refuted. "But maybe we'll get lucky and find some poor fool wandering the halls on our way to the forest," he mused, his grin sharp as a knife. "Take them on a little trip with us. What do you say, Little Black?"

Rodolphus' desire and perverse smile chilled Regulus' blood. 'He means to rattle me,' Regulus concluded, horrified at how eager his generation was to spill another's lifeblood like they were drawing from a tap. He rose to the bait but he was careful of its lure.

"Careful, Lestrange. One day, you'll push too far, and Azkaban will have a cell waiting with your name on it," Regulus warned coolly.

Rodolphus' smirk fell into a fierce frown. "You know, Black. Avery and Mulciber sent me a letter… they're eager to see you again. Avery, especially. Should I write them back and tell them how content you are—free as a bird—after they took the fall and punishment for your mission?" Rodolphus threatened darkly. "Avery hasn't been content since his eyes match the number of brain cells he has."

Regulus masked the pit of unease curling in his gut from Rodolphus' intimidation with the expressionless mask his family was famous for. "I'm sorry to hear Avery has been discontent."

Regulus speculated that Rodolphus' threat was empty, unsure how much leverage someone like Avery truthfully contained anymore. After all, his and Mulciber's presence in the Dark Lord's court would be unwelcome due to alienating the House of Black with their attack against his brother. Though he hoped losing an eye would have tempered Josephius Avery, Regulus wouldn't be holding his breath—Bubble-Head Charm or not.

Rodolphus' face morphed into a scowl at seeing his threat fall short.

"Report to Snape when it's time and construct an alibi, Black." Rodolphus ordered, departing quickly from the Common Room, leaving Regulus alone once again with only his book and the portrait of the witch over the crackling fireplace for company.

Regulus glanced up at the painting, his breath catching as he met the woman's golden eyes. The Widow's gaze bore into him, sharp and knowing, as if the painting itself had learned the art of Legilimency. Her stern expression was reprimanding. The Widow tapped her illustrated hand over its hidden twin—an unspoken threat, promise, or curse. Without preamble, the Widow raised her hand, revealing the golden Claddagh ring she kept hidden. It gleamed on her long, slender fingers. Regulus' eyes widened in horror at the rare sight.

The Widow's fingers were blackened, as if claimed by necrosis or severe frostbite—lifeless and rotting.

Regulus' eyes snapped back up to the Widow's but her painted eyes betrayed nothing.

In a silence so profound, Regulus thought he could hear the paint of the witch's portrait creak as she slowly covered her decayed hand with the other, tucking it away once more—perhaps for another century.

Though he had no idea which part of his conversation with Rodolphus angered the witch, the Black scion understood her message all the same. For a brief moment, he thought of voicing some apology or even a denial. But the words died in his throat.

Regulus shook his head, frustrated at his own unease over a mere painting. It was ridiculous to care what some enigmatic, painted woman thought of him.

"Whoever you are—mind your business and fuck off," Regulus muttered, shoving his book into his bag with more force than necessary. The rattled Slytherin quickly made his way out of the Common Room and away from the judging eyes of the Widow.

As he moved through the corridors, dismay settled in Regulus' chest—what was he going to tell Bellatrix? The truth, surely? She had offered—no, sworn—to help him. There was no one else he could turn to. He needed her. But he also wanted to be independent from her aid too. He only indulged in his rebellious independent nature when it was cloaked in deception.

Regulus knew deep down that he had to tell Bellatrix. She had vowed to assist him, reciting to his ears that family meant standing together rather than splintering off. Yet, he knew she would try to stop him —and that wasn't an option. He was already attempting to make his amends for Wilkes and Jennings—he didn't want to add his own kin to that list as well.

Regulus searched for hours in vain for Bellatrix. He'd come across only a few people who claimed to see her, but none who could grant him any certain directions. He returned to the Common Room in failure, occupying a seat out of sight from the Widow's portrait and pulled out his book once more, if only to escape for a little while into his own mind.

Behind the suit of armor, Bellatrix breathed a silent sigh of relief as Narcissa passed her by, turning the corner of the corridor and disappearing from sight.

With the coast clear, Bellatrix moved. Stepping out of the shadows like a specter, her anger simmered just beneath the surface—more a presence than a person. She had heard more than she wished of Narcissa's and Snape's conversation. She eyed the potion's lab eagerly, like a starving wolf. A part of her wanted nothing more than to tear Severus Snape apart for many things—his involvement with Regulus' plight and his harshness towards Narcissa. But to her surprise, another part of her felt an unexpected pang of gratitude towards the half-blood for his urging of Narcissa's safety.

'Oh Cissy, you sweet, lovesick fool,' Bellatrix thought, dismayed by her sister's infatuation with her betrothed. Yet, the thought was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by what she had just overheard.

There would be a meeting in the Forbidden Forest at the month's end—one that would surely involve Regulus. Though her vision remained stained with bloodlust at the thought of Regulus' choice between duty and family as if the two were truly separate, her true fury was reserved for the real culprits.

If Lucius was organizing the meeting, then two wizards—currently beyond her reach—might soon be within a wand's length of her wrath.

Though Bellatrix could think of nothing more compelling than butchering them and impaling them upon her wand like a shrike, she needed to find Regulus and soon. She wouldn't let him face those monsters alone again. With her purpose set, Bellatrix strode through the dungeon corridors, bursting into the Slytherin Common Room like a storm. Her gaze flickered to the spot where she and Verona often sat—empty. A sharp pang of guilt cut through her at the sight.

She shook her head, shoving the guilt aside. Focus. She had to find Regulus. She spotted him at last, seated far from his usual place by the fireplace, studying an old magical tome. Even from a distance, Bellatrix recognized the book as one of their Grandfather's.

Bellatrix stormed across the room, seized the boy by the collar of his robes and hoisted him up until their eyes met, her grip talon-like. She caught her reflection in his wide eyes—her own, red and swollen, betraying her weakness before Evans. The sight made her grimace.

"You! With me. Now." Bellatrix ordered sternly as if scolding a child.

Regulus flinched at her sudden outburst, any greeting dying in his throat.

"Bella, what are you—" Regulus started, struggling against her iron grip, but Bellatrix dragged him across the Common Room without pause and towards a place where they could speak alone; Regulus' dorm.

It was an unusual sight for the Slytherins gathered and lounging about the room illuminated in the ambient light of the Black Lake.

At the threshold of his dorm, Regulus wrenched himself free. "Unhand me! What do you think you are doing, Bella?!" Regulus hissed in indignation, patting his robes down as if he was raked across the dusty floor.

Bellatrix ignored her younger cousin, shoving him inside and slamming the door behind them. Without a word, she traced a privacy rune upon the door. The pictogram flared brightly at her final tap.

Her gaze swept the room, searching for unwanted ears or lingering enchantments. Her eyes snagged on a letter-writing kit by his bedside—quills, unmarked envelopes, a bottle of ink and sealing wax were strewn haphazardly beside a tray of old, cold ashes.

They were alone. No trace of lingering magic except her own.

Still ignoring his protests, Bellatrix shoved Regulus onto his four-poster bed and stepped back, putting distance between them. She was unsure she could resist throttling him after their last confrontation.

"So. A little club meeting in the Forbidden Forest? Tea and treason at month's end?" Bellatrix drawled, watching Regulus stiffen. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "Caught you."

"Yes—but how? How do you know this?" Regulus asked timidly. "I just found out today, myself. I went looking for you, but some girls said you ran off with some boy?" he pressed suspiciously, watching Bellatrix stiffen.

She tried to smite Regulus with a glare right then and there; resisting the urge to hex him severely.

"I did no such thing! I was looking for Cissy after—oh, fuck that! It doesn't matter!" Bellatrix spat, furious that even Regulus had heard about Evans dragging her off like some prize he won. She would take what happened between the pair of them to her grave. "I found Cissy and overheard her with a certain dungeon bat. Sticking her nose in Lucius' business… that would be unwarranted and unwanted for your lot, wouldn't it?"

Regulus swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, it wouldn't be appreciated. Her knowing or you either."

"Well, we know, and your lot will have to deal with it," Bellatrix countered mockingly before her features sobered up. "You're no fool, Reg. If Cissy and I know, then your whole little operation is already compromised."

Regulus shook his head. "You're wrong—we can contain this—"

"Contain this?! Stop being an idiot, Reg! Dumbledore is a fucking mind reader! He only has to look at you to shatter your shields if you're not careful," Bellatrix interrupted, recalling how even he had nearly gotten into her mind the first time.

"No. Not me. Not Snape. I don't know about the Lestranges or Parkinson… but Barty? He's safe. No one suspects a Ravenclaw," Regulus assured her.

Bellatrix listened, eyes narrowing. Was he naming his whole operation on purpose? Or was it a slip?

"The Wizengamot will cart you off to Azkaban if Grandfather doesn't do you the mercy of killing you first." Even she winced at her own words but Regulus needed to hear them.

"I know, Bella. I'll be—I'll be careful. Like last time. I did everything right—I covered my tracks, I stayed unseen." Regulus said, unaware of the effect his words were having on Bellatrix.

Bellatrix boiled like a kettle on the verge of whistling—then clicked her tongue in distaste.

"Careful—like last time? You're lucky you weren't caught like Avery and Mulciber! That blasted cloak saved your arse! I saw it, Regulus—I saw everything in Verona's memories!" Bellatrix accused. Her fingers twitched towards her wand but she fought the urge to curse Regulus again. "You weren't careful—you were fortunate! Fortunate that none of your little partners sold you out first! Careful like last time?" She shook her head, twisting her neck in fury. "Don't make me laugh, you'll be lucky if you don't fuck it up worse next time! A mind curse? That's your master plan? Could you be any more predictable?" Bellatrix wanted to scoff.

"I had to! If anyone would have checked for false memories then they'd know—I had to be careful," Regulus reused his same argument once again, sparking another explosion from Bellatrix.

"And here I thought Sirius was the family fool—at least he should be or he'd have put it all together right in front of Dumbledore! How many times have you done that, Reg? Go on, cast another one. Maybe this time the Aurors will pull their heads out of the sand and figure out your M.O." she sneered. "You're lucky I got to Verona first—before she was evacuated from the castle, before St. Mungo's called Grandfather, or cracked the family magic themselves!"

Regulus flinched, like a child caught wielding a weapon too heavy for his hands—one misstep from burning the house down. "It wasn't—I swear, Bella! It was the only way to do it without using an Unforgivable!"

Bellatrix wasn't listening. She grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up like a convict dangling from the gallows of her making.

"Don't. Don't you dare swear to me on anything other than your blood or magic! Anything else doesn't mean a damn to me, Regulus! I—myself, had to clean up your mess. I had to go into the mind of my friend. I had to put her back together! And now— I'm the prime suspect for the crime you committed! All you've done, Regulus— is force me to be your patsy!" Bellatrix seethed, shaking Regulus roughly before pushing him away once more.

"You'd have been kinder to just Crucio her—rather than twist her memories like some fucking puppeteer."

Regulus looked down in regret for a moment before looking up to meet Bellatrix's hard eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bella." Regulus repeated. "You've done more than anyone—without even my asking. You're a true Black, Bella. Whatever Sirius or anyone else claims… you're the best of us," he stated firmly.

"I appreciate what you've done to protect me even if you'll deny it and say it was only for Verona. The sacrifice you've made to protect me… but this time, Bella. You can't. Not this time. Not from them." Regulus said as if reading her thoughts and intentions.

Bellatrix's eyes softened slightly, her anger ebbing away with her self-appointed charge with his words.

"No. They've tortured you before, Reg. Over my own dead body, you stupid child. I'll be there" Bellatrix claimed.

Regulus' face turned into one of despair mixed with frustration at his cousin's words. "How—they didn't."

Bellatrix frowned, her brows knitting at Regulus' denial. "Don't lie or look at me like that. I know the signs of a Cruciatus Curse, cousin. You—you may not have been present but I was when your mother turned her wand on Sirius. I saw what it did to him… and the marks it leaves afterwards." She tried to dismiss the image of Sirius twitching on the parlour floor of Grimmauld's Place. How she had stood by silently as his mother; her aunt punished her own blood for disobedience. It was a mark of shame etched into her bones as if carved with a knife. She didn't want to feel that shame twice.

"I won't stand for you to be in such a position again—alone; with no one by your side."

"No—no. NO! Don't be stupid, Bellatrix! They'll kill you! You can't be there with me! No one can. Besides—they won't touch me. They shouldn't have to begin with. Avery and Mulciber are pacified. The others wouldn't dare to. Not after Grandfather's declaration.""

"And what about those two inbred brutes, Rodolphus and Rabastan? Are they too pacified? Would they not dare to either? Tell me that slimeball Jaxian Parkinson wouldn't curse you in the back if it meant his family had two more knuts to rub together," Bellatrix jeered mockingly, keeping her theory that Mulciber and Avery would be in attendance and willing to harm Regulus again to herself.

Bellatrix's words left Regulus speechless. He couldn't claim none of them would not harm him with certainty. "They may be vultures, but I'm no corpse yet, cousin," he asserted, though dissentingly wondering just how far his compatriots would truly go. "Their hands will stay for the time being against me—they cannot harm me out of fear of the Dark Lord's wrath since my efforts have curried some favor with him."

Bellatrix huffed, not believing a single word of Regulus' claim. She didn't put any stock in the favor of a dark lord or the Pureblood Movement. She held no torch for a blood traitor. 'He hasn't even thought of the most glaring issue to be bound by all of this,' she thought.

"My attendance or not. There is still a major problem to be discussed and handled. An issue for when your little meeting takes place," Bellatrix said.

Regulus looked up at her questioningly.

"Sirius." Bellatrix revealed. "He often takes strolls in the Forbidden Forest on a near daily basis if he would have it believed. Boastful, sure. But I think Sirius's assertion is one of merit for once. What do you think would occur if he stumbled upon your gathering?" Bellatrix asked.

Bellatrix watched Regulus' shoulders sag as if they were weighed down by stones. She was sure he probably felt like he was tossed in a river too.

"They'll kill him—anyone really, for even getting close." Regulus answered.

After Mulciber and Avery's flight, the others had been getting more and more paranoid; only Snape had somehow maintained a composed demeanor. Secrecy amongst their order was paramount.

Bellatrix nodded in agreement. Despite the bitter taste his memory conjured in her mouth, Bellatrix didn't want to stoop to Sirius' level of familial neglect.

Her eyes followed Regulus as he slumped forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.

"We'll—I'll get a word out to him somehow. I'll find a way to tell him that the Forest isn't safe that night. I'll do—I don't know. Something. He just has to be in the castle for one night." Regulus insisted.

Bellatrix shook her head. "That'd go over well. Might as well hand him an invitation to your forum then. You'll only cite disobedience in the idiot." Bellatrix said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. She could tell not even Regulus believed the same in the defeated tone of his own voice.

"Look, I don't know yet! I—I'll think of something, okay? Just give me some time. I'll find a way to keep him in the castle. Hopefully there won't be a reason to! He may not go that night at all. Sirius is thankfully unpredictable." Regulus said, his mind wondering why his brother even spent so much time in the place.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to argue with the boy, but Regulus stopped her.

"But you. You can't be there, Bella. Promise me you won't. I'll find a way to keep Sirius from the Forest somehow—I have a contact in Gryffindor close to him. He'll listen to them. But you need to listen to me… you can't be there," Regulus stressed.

Bellatrix simply stood in silence, weighing Regulus' words and ideas. In truth, she couldn't stop him. If he didn't attend the meeting then his position would be suspect or he'd be outright killed. The blood and social status of their targets meant nothing to these pureblood supremacists.

As if sensing her worries, Regulus reassured her. "I'll do better this time… I'll be better," he promised.

'The little twerp means it at least… that has to count for something,' Bellatrix thought. She'd keep an eye on the boy regardless though, ignoring his pleas. She wouldn't let him walk into a place such as the Forbidden Forest alone.

"See that you do Regulus. For all our sakes," Bellatrix warned, turning on her heels to leave the dormitory. The ward on the door disconnected from Bellatrix's magic as she departed, fading into nothingness from the door.

With Bellatrix gone, Regulus slumped. Dread curled in his gut, wondering just exactly how he was going to keep Sirius in the castle.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! A tournament and now a junior death eater meeting are happening?! Looks like we got some excitement planned.