CHAPTER 16

Two weeks later, I prepare to leave for Hogwarts once more, throwing all of my belongings into my rucksack and trunk. Among the things that Narcissa dropped off for me, besides the books, were four pairs of robes that, I learned that night after trying them on, fit me perfectly, which sort of made me uncomfortable because how would Bellatrix or Narcissa have known my measurements? However, I refuse to dwell too much on it. They fit me, they're new, they're paid for. And that's what matters most.

Snape and I, as well as the other professors who do not live at the castle during the holidays, are returning to Hogwarts today. He does not trust me enough to let me stay at Spinner's End for two weeks without his "supervision" (with good reason, of course, considering the recent kitchen fire), so I'll be at Hogwarts, again, before any of the other students. It's not all bad, though, because the food will certainly be better than what I have been forced to cook, without magic, since my return to Spinner's End.

Snape glances at me when I enter the sitting room, then waves his wand. "Your things are at Hogwarts now."

"Remind me again why I can't stay here rather than spending two weeks alone at the castle." Being forced to return to Hogwarts early doesn't even bother me, but irritating him is entertaining after all of the nonsense he's made me do since my return from the manor.

He sighs. At least five times now we've discussed this very point. "You'll find a way to destroy my house."

"I set the place on fire one time, and suddenly I'm someone who wants to destroy it."

"If you hate the idea of being at Hogwarts this much, you can go to Malfoy Manor for the next two weeks."

"And stay locked in the cellar again? No, thank you."

"That's what I thought." He offers me his arm, and when I look at it without taking it, he frowns at me. "You can't stay here."

I grimace back at him. "You do realize that I am fully capable of Apparition myself, right?"

"Even without your wand? You must be very talented."

"You could always return my wand."

He levels his gaze at me. "I'm offering to Apparate you there myself."

"Why do that when you could just as easily give me my wand?"

"Common courtesy implores that I offer," he answers flatly.

I roll my eyes. "Since when does Severus Snape care about 'common courtesy'?"

"I agree that it is most unlike me. I have been commanded not to return your wand to you until you are once again inside the castle walls."

"And who ordered that? My mother? Do you really obey Bellatrix Lestrange, Professor?"

"Had Bellatrix Lestrange ordered me to keep your wand from you, I would have returned it weeks ago. The Dark Lord commanded it."

"Why would he do that?" Snape does not answer me. "Will you ever tell me?" Again, he does not answer. "If I take your arm and let you Apparate with me, will you tell me? Don't I have a right to know, sir?" Snape remains infuriatingly silent. "Fine, whatever." I take his arm, and we Apparate.

When we arrive in Hogsmeade, I reluctantly pull my arm away from Snape's. "There are things I must do here," he tells me. "Go to Hogwarts. Make no unnecessary stops along the way, and I'll give you your wand when I reach the castle."

"Unnecessary stops like what? Where could I possibly stop?"

He grimaces.

"Okay, okay. You can find me in the Slytherin Dungeon, I suppose." Leaving him behind—or would it be him leaving me behind since he's going to enjoy himself while I go mope around and do nothing?—I start in the direction of the castle. Despite how nice it'd be to see Zoe since I'm right here in Hogsmeade, disobeying Snape seems like a bad idea when he still has my wand hidden somewhere.

While walking the path to the castle, a pop! comes from somewhere behind me. It's not overly loud, but it's definitely not the sound of someone who is as skilled in the art of Apparition as Narcissa or Snape whose Apparitions are incredibly quiet, or even Voldemort's whose Apparition is silent. I look around and see a figure wearing a black cloak, their face hidden. It has to be a coincidence—after all, Hogsmeade is right there—but my gut says otherwise.

I glance back again and confirm that someone is definitely following me. Some people have no subtlety. I intend on ignoring them completely until a hand lands on my shoulder and spins me around, forcing me to face them.

"Listen to me," an urgent voice whispers, "you're not safe in the castle!"

"I believe I'll be fine," I say dully, trying and failing to look up into their face due to the shadows the cloak has cast across their face. That the sun is behind them only serves to make seeing their face more difficult. "Who are you?"

There comes a huff of indignation. "Don't you know the voice of your own mother, Aurelia?"

"Bellatrix, I am not Aurelia. I might've been her for about a year at one point, but I am not, nor will I ever be again, Aurelia Lestrange. I'm sorry, but I'm not who you want me to be. I think that was pretty solidified when you Cruciated me." I turn around and begin walking away.

Her hands clasp my shoulders—someone in the distance calls my name—and I am sucked into a tube, the familiar feeling of Apparition. "Where are we?" I ask, jerking away from her and looking around at what is very obviously a cemetery as she pulls the hood of her cloak back just enough to expose her face.

Chilly rain pours down on us, making my skin tingle and turning the dirt around us into mud. I don't like this. "I'm leaving now." I go to step away from her, but her grip on me tightens. You can't leave anyway—Snape still has your wand.

"Listen to me!"

"What?" I growl, looking up at her with squinted eyes, the rain pelting my face and soaking through my hair.

"I can't let you die twice!"

Her eyes are desperate, almost desperate enough to make me want to stay, but I still don't like being alone with her, don't fully trust her. "You can only die once."

With her hand on my shoulder, she turns me toward a weather-worn headstone. In big, bold letters, it says:

AURELIA CELAENO LESTRANGE

21 NOVEMBER 1978 – 15 MAY 1980

Below that, inscribed in the stone is a quote: Death is a cessation from the impression of the senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors of the mind, and the servitude of the body.

"You've already—you've already died once!" she says, her voice cracking. "I cannot go through your death twice!" Bellatrix turns me around to face her fully, her hands now on either side of my face. Though too stunned at finally learning my middle name to say anything, I keep trying to turn my head back to the headstone. "Aurelia, look at me!" I force my attention back to her, focus on her eyes. "I cannot lose you again!"

"The Dark Lord has assured my safety. You shouldn't be too worried."

"But I am! I've done things—terrible, terrible things! If someone were to find out who you are . . ." She shakes her head violently, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen. "Aurelia, you must promise me that you will stay vigilant! No one must know who you are!"

The rain begins pouring harder, drenching my clothes and soaking through to my skin, chilling me. Though I shiver slightly, whether that is from fear of Bellatrix, my wet clothes, or something else entirely is unclear. "Is that why you think I'm not safe at Hogwarts? Because of the mistakes you've made? Bellatrix"—she winces at my use of her real name again rather than calling her "Mum" as I had done not too long ago—"I held my own against you in our duel. Do you really believe that any of the students will be able to harm me?"

"Not the students," she says tightly, "but the professors! Dumbledore—"

"Is the headmaster and as such will not harm me. I'm a student still," I interrupt, though I'm not even a real student.

"McGonagall—"

"Would never hurt me!" I say indignantly, anger rising in my chest at the mere suggestion.

"But she would! She was so fond of her Gryffindors! I drove two of them to insanity with the Cruciatus Curse. If she knows who you are, do you really think she would not use you to get her revenge against me?"

"But she—" I stop, almost letting slip that McGonagall does know and has not changed toward me at all—well, she actually seems to care more since she found out the truth. "She wouldn't."

Bellatrix closes her eyes. "Something is going to happen this year," she says slowly. "Someone is going to die."

"Who?"

Her dark eyes meet mine. "I've come here without seeking permission to warn you, Aurelia, but I cannot divulge the plans the Dark Lord's made." Tears slip down her cheek. This simple act wrenches my heart. My mother is standing here in front of me, crying to me, trying to keep me safe. It's too much for me—I break, throwing my arms around her. She rests her chin atop my head and cradles the back of my head in her hand as she had done all those months ago for such a brief moment when she learned my identity. Together, we stand in front of my grave in each other's arms for a few minutes until she finally breaks the silence with, "I do not trust Severus Snape, but he's the only supporter the Dark Lord has in the castle." She pulls away from me and puts her hands back on my cheeks. Bellatrix looks down at me solemnly. I feel so small next to her, younger somehow, almost as if her dwarfing me by standing so much taller has reduced me to the ten-year-old who was lost and just wanted her mum. And here she is. Finally. "You must stay as close to him as possible. He will keep you safe, for your safety is the order of the Dark Lord, but do not put your faith in him. He cares only about his own welfare. Do not trust him. Only use him, as he uses so many."

"I'll be fine." My eyes drift to my tombstone, and my feet carry me toward it, away from Bellatrix, almost of their own volition. I lower myself to my knees in front of the stone and touch the inscription of my original name, tracing the imprint with my index finger. "I was so little when I lost you," I say quietly, looking back over my shoulder at her, pain constricting my throat. She approaches me and kneels beside me, frowning. "I . . . I can't imagine what—what that must've been like. To lose a child so young."

She takes my hand in hers and closes her eyes. Then she clears her throat, looks back at me, and says, "Suh-lee-noh. If you were wondering how to pronounce your second name." She smiles uneasily. "I couldn't completely give up the Black family tradition."

"It's a star?" Bellatrix nods. "And . . . and the quote?"

A sad smile spreads across her face. "Marcus Aurelius, for whom you are named."

She doesn't elaborate on why she had chosen Marcus Aurelius, though that's not really too much of a surprise. If Andromeda was truthful about Rodolphus and Bellatrix connecting over him, there's no way Bellatrix would tell me about it now. But still, I ask her, "Why was he important enough for me to take his name?"

Bellatrix places her hand on my cheek. "You need to go now." Then she stands and pulls me to my feet, wraps her arms around me again, and kisses the top of my head. "I will see you again."

She releases me, and I offer her a broad, genuine smile for the first time. "See ya, Mum."

Bellatrix reaches out to touch my face again. "My darling Aurelia."

She moves as if to Disapparate when I realize my wand is still with Snape. "Wait!" Bellatrix pauses, brows furrowed. "I . . . I can't currently Disapparate. Would you mind?"

Her face is kind, a sort of broken half-smile pulling at her lips, when she takes my hand and Apparates with me. She leaves me where she abducted me, Disapparating again before I can say another word.

I dash up to the castle as fast as possible, worry eating away at me. Someone saw her forcibly Apparate with me—someone called out for me as Bellatrix grabbed me. Someone who knows me. Snape perhaps? Surely he wouldn't be mad at me for being abducted, wouldn't hold that unnecessary stop against me seeing as it wasn't my choice.

I dart through the doors of the entrance hall, debating hiding in the library and claiming to have been up there this whole time and then simply apologizing to Snape for not going back to the dungeon like I initially planned. Madam Pince wasn't in the library this time last year, so she shouldn't be there this time to negate my claim. She only came around when the other students arrived last year, and that's the hope I am holding onto on my way up to the library. This will be an easy enough lie—except, of course, for the fact that I am so drenched from the rain that it looks like I just took a swim in the lake fully dressed. I curse under my breath but continue toward the library anyway. Perhaps my clothes and hair will have dried before Snape finds me.

Just as I reach the stairs, a voice says, "Miss Rodgers," which forces me to stop abruptly, closing my eyes in annoyance before turning to see Snape and McGonagall both striding toward me, both looking equally upset with me, which only intensifies my confusion because there's no way both of them can be mad at me for circumstances outside of my control. I've done nothing to upset them—I've literally just entered the castle. "Professors," I say breathlessly, rushing back toward them to look at least somewhat obedient, water dripping off me incriminatingly.

"Where did you go?" McGonagall questions me.

I clear my throat. "I . . . wh-what? I was . . . in the library. I was—I was going back—forgot to put the book back on the shelf, and since Madam Pince isn't here, I thought I should make sure it was in its right spot."

Snape frowns at me, his eyes clearly taking in the sight of my soaked hair. "The library? I was just up there, and yet I did not see you."

"Who was with you on your way from Hogsmeade?"

Brilliant—they're ganging up on me. This is completely unfair, and it won't end well for me. The two of them are the only professors I would have been with, and since they are both looking for me, they know that I was not with the other. There's no way to lie and say I was with one of them. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," I say with a hint of laughter in my voice, trying to sound sincere.

Her lips thin out, which proves I have failed in convincing them that I was anywhere other than here at the castle, and I clear my throat quietly, fearing that she is growing agitated with me. "Why are you lying to us?"

"I . . . 'm not," I say slowly. "I wasn't with anyone. I was here—at Hogwarts."

Snape raises an eyebrow. "Where exactly? The lake?"

I look down at my dripping robes and grimace, then look up at them with a mixture of innocence and self-deprecation. "Yes. I fell in and didn't want to admit it. Too embarrassing. What am I, a first-year? Who falls into the lake?"

Snape clenches his jaw. "Detention, Rodgers, for the cheek. Where were you?"

"I just told you."

"Rodgers—"

"What's with your accusatory tone, Professor? It's not like I have secret meetings or I'm living a double life. I mean, can you think of anyone who could pull something like that off?" He narrows his eyes at me but does not comment. "Do you really think it's possible for a seventeen-year-old to do such a thing right under your noses? I fell into the lake, all right? Have you embarrassed me enough yet? How else could I have gotten soaked?" I glance at McGonagall, whose face conveys her disappointment, which instantly makes me regret lying to the both of them like this. Though my lie is obviously not working, I keep pushing on anyway. "What makes you think I went somewhere?"

"You were seen," McGonagall says tightly.

"By whom?"

"Myself," she answers. "I was walking back to Hogwarts when I saw a hooded figure Apparate behind you and begin speaking with you. I could see that you were trying to get away, but you were grabbed and taken before I could reach you."

"It was you who called for me?"

"So you did go somewhere," Snape interjects. I frown at him.

McGonagall continues, "I went back to Hogsmeade to find Professor Snape. We had just spoken, and he'd told me you would be on your way to the castle. We both came back to search the grounds, thinking you might have returned. When you hadn't, we knew something was wrong."

I hang my head and rest my forehead in the palm of my hand, anger and frustration making me grow warm. "All right, fine," I say quietly, willing the tears to come. Slowly but surely, they begin stinging my eyes. Only then do I look up at the two of them. "Someone did come to get me."

McGonagall's expression has softened, but Snape's has only grown fiercer. I guess my sorrow doesn't work on him like it does McGonagall, probably because she pities me more than he does (because of my duty to Voldemort), but not even she looks as sympathetic as she usually does. This isn't good. This is my last chance. "It . . . was my-my mother. Bellatrix," I whisper. "It was Bellatrix."

Both of their faces become more curious, Snape's more curious than McGonagall's. "What happened?" he asks me.

"She's becoming attached to me. She had to show me . . . my grave—or the grave that she thought I was buried in. It was pouring there, hence this"—I wave my hands at myself in general to indicate the soaked clothes and hair. "Bellatrix—she wanted me to know—she doesn't want to lose me twice." Neither of them speaks, so I add, "It's all right though. She'll get over it."

"What does that mean?" McGonagall asks.

"With Voldemort looming over me? Yeah, she'll lose me twice." I've stopped the tears at this point as they were doing me no good anyway.

McGonagall frowns. "But you can't expect—you can't think that way, Rodgers. You have to believe all of this will be stopped."

"I would love to endorse those types of thoughts, Professor, but I learned long ago not to let my mind run wild with ideas that will only make my duty worse if said ideas do not pan out the way I hoped. I am going to die." I swallow, unsure why all of this is pouring out of me. "That being said, I've learned the hard way that the pain is lessened if I keep people out of my life and out of my business, you know, at arm's length, away from me in general. It's lessened for both me and them. Bellatrix will not hurt too badly for this very reason, nor will anyone else."

If Bellatrix is worried about my safety, there's not much I can do—something very bad is clearly coming for me, and I have no power to stop it. The least I can do is make sure that my death doesn't hurt a whole swath of people, unlike last time when my parents and even Andromeda and Narcissa all mourned me. I don't want to leave sorrow behind when Voldemort comes for me, and I realize in this moment that if he plans to kill me, it'd be better for him to do it sooner rather than later. I'll be less attached to people, and people will be less attached to me.

Now that I'm back at Hogwarts and my duty is approaching, it's probably a good time for me to start easing away from everyone else. I need to keep to myself, like the way it was before Hogwarts. "She just showed me that I need to keep everyone I can as far from me as I can—which I have been failing at recently and must find a way to rectify. Those who get too close wind up in life-threatening danger or wind up dead or just end up suffering in some way. I don't like being the cause of that, especially with my time running out. Am I free to go?" Neither professor responds, so I turn around and make my way to the common room.

I have only just closed the door to the Slytherin Dungeon and turned my back when it opens again. "What the hell was that?" Snape stands in the dungeon. He glances over his shoulder as if to make sure no one is there and closes the door to the common room.

"It was the truth, Professor, why are you so angry with me? Isn't that what the two of you wanted? The truth?"

He huffs with annoyance. "I can respect the difficult situation in which you have found yourself so recently. I can respect that you are struggling to come to terms with it. But, Merlin, you sounded suicidal! Do you realize—"

"That Voldemort would punish you if I died while in your care, regardless of if I am the one who took my own life?"

"No," he says. "If the professors here at Hogwarts are alerted to the possibility that a student might be suicidal, they will keep a close watch on them—discreetly, of course, but a close watch, nonetheless. You might be talented at acting on the spot—unless, of course, you are as flustered as you were a moment ago—but you cannot pretend to be something you are not for the remainder of the year. Your secret will get out, and then what? The Dark Lord will drag you out of Hogwarts before you have a chance to master Occlumency, and both of our lives will be in grave danger."

"Professor, I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't!"

"Professor—"

"Silence!" Snape reaches into his robes and pulls out a wand I immediately realize to be mine. "Do you want this back?" I reach for it, but he jerks it away. "Because the only way you are getting your hands back on this is if you pull yourself together. You stop talking about what you must do for the Dark Lord, you stop saying how short your life will be, you stop voicing any of those problems, because they will only bring scrutiny upon you and will lead to more people learning the truth about you."

"Oh, forgive me," I snap, "that I am struggling with the idea of being forced to have Lord Voldemort's child. I'm sorry that sometimes I have no choice but to voice my apprehension. I am oh-so-sorry that I am unable to keep to myself the ever-growing pile of shit that is my bloody life!"

"Do you really believe you are the only person who struggles because of the Dark Lord? Are you that selfish, Rodgers? Do not pretend—"

"I might not be the only one who struggles, but I am so damn certain that I am the only person going through what I am going through! No one else will ever understand! And you know what? It's easy to speak freely with McGonagall. I don't know why, but it is. And it's nice to know that someone cares about me and not what might happen to them because of me! Which is why I have to stop speaking with people like her! I don't want to leave behind people like her who care about me and are going to mourn me, you know? I just—I need to isolate myself. How can I justify letting all of them grieve me when I can just step away and keep them at arm's length?"

Snape looks utterly disgusted with me; the expression deflates me immediately, though I don't understand why. "If any professor—Professor McGonagall included—begins to openly question your mental state, I will report to the Dark Lord that it is no longer safe for you at Hogwarts because there are some who are piecing together the truth of your identity. You will be locked away in Malfoy Manor once more, except this time there will be no escaping it after just a few days. Do I make myself clear?"

I do not remove my eyes from his raging glare. "Yes. I'll keep everything bottled up, and I'll stay away from everyone so they don't wonder if I'm fine or not, and we can forget this ever happened. I just need my wand back."

He hands over my wand and strides from the room without looking back. Which works well for me because I need time to be alone to pull myself together.