Delenda Est

By: Lord Silvere

Fandom: harry potter

Summary: Harry is a prisoner, and Bellatrix has fallen from grace. The accidental activation of Bella's treasured heirloom results in another chance for Harry. It also gives him the opportunity to make the acquaintance of the young and enigmatic Bellatrix Black as they change the course of history.

Status: Completed

Fic type: Books/Harry Potter

Pairings/Main char.: Harry P., Bellatrix L.

Published: 2009-11-15

Last updated: 2013-09-22

Words count: 392,449

Chapters count: 46

Converted using www.FF2EBOOK.com
Date: 2020-11-30

1. Prologue: The Death of Bellatrix

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction. No profit is being made by the authors.

Authors' Note: We decided to stick together after Earl so that we could try our hand at another Harry/Bellatrix story. This is the product of some really long chats on the instant messenger. We're out to break some clichés and provide you with a first-rate H/B story; hopefully that happens. There's only a slight catch—this doesn't rank as top priority for either of us, so updates won't be as quick or regular as any of us would prefer.

As for the setting of the story, we're operating under the idea that books six and seven didn't quite turn out as they did in the canon. Most notably, they never figured out the horcruxes. Harry and the gang graduated and wandered off into the world to help the Order to fight Voldemort. We admit that the beginning may have some shades of Earl, but it will quickly wander into other paths.

DELENDA EST

Prologue

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

The cell Harry sat in was small, damp, and owing to the late hour of the evening, dark. It represented the epitome of the classic dungeon, and if the situation hadn't been so dire, Harry would have been amused that Voldemort would go for such a cliché. Then again, he mused, it wasn't exactly the Dark Lord's style to supply his involuntary guests with any degree of comfort. His mind wandered back to how he had ended up in the miserable dungeon cell.

The plan for the raid on Malfoy Manor had been flawless—at least in theory. All of their reports suggested that with Death Eater activity focused on assassinating government figures and hunting down the Order, defenses would be minimal, especially since Malfoy Manor wasn't considered a vital target. Still, they had hoped to find something, anything, really, that would help them defeat Voldemort, or at least slow him down.

Ultimately, they had walked right into a trap. A very elaborate, highly planned trap that reeked of one thing: treachery. Someone had betrayed the Order and relayed the details of their plans. More than a few Death Eaters had been waiting for them, and the Dark Lord himself had even made a brief appearance.

Most of the strike team was dead. Harry assumed that even the traitor had been killed in the ensuing firefight. He couldn't care less. Had the traitor, whoever it was, really known what Voldemort was like, they should have seen it coming. On the other hand, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Voldemort's nemesis, and the last best hope of the wizarding world, was too good a prize to leave for dead. No, they had taken him. It was with no small amount of pride that Harry realized it had taken a full dozen of them to take him down. Since he had graduated from Hogwarts, he had become an impressive duelist in his own right, but with the odds stacked against him as they were, he had been bested.

Hence the reason that he now found himself stuck in a small cell, somewhere in one of Voldemort's hideouts. The place certainly didn't seem like it belonged to a Death Eater manor, though what they typically kept hidden in their basements, he didn't know for sure. A low moan brought his attention back to the present . . . and his current cell mate.

He had no idea why Bellatrix Lestrange was in the cell with him, nor did he really care. When he had first found out he had company, his hopes had soared, until he realized just who his cell mate was with the aid of the dim light of the early morning.

As she lay on the floor unconscious, he had considered killing her, but that had been precluded when other Death Eaters had forcibly dragged her out of the cell. He didn't know what she had done, or why Voldemort was torturing her, and honestly, he couldn't care less, after the sort of things she'd done—but her screams could be heard even down into his cell, sometimes deep into the night. It was disturbing to say the least, and caused him to wonder what she had done to warrant such treatment by her own allies.

The cell door creaked open. Why was it that most doors in the wizarding world creaked? Harry wondered absently, finding it odd that he would think of that sort of thing while in this predicament. The Death Eaters dumped Bellatrix's body back into the cell unceremoniously. When she didn't move for a few minutes, morbid curiosity got the better of Harry.

With baited breath, Harry inched his way over to where he guessed she was lying, hesitant to actually touch her. When he got close enough, he could hear her breathing. He let out a sigh, whether it was of relief of anticipation, he didn't know. He didn't know why he was so anxious to know that she was alive; he had tried his level best to kill her the few times they had met.

Maybe it was just the fact that misery loved company. As evil as she was, she was right now even more miserable than he was. At any rate, he felt absurdly glad she was still alive, though he couldn't fathom why.

He didn't know if he was going stir crazy, or if the isolation was getting to him, but somehow he felt the need to talk, about anything. The weather. Her thoughts on Fudge as a minister. The color of Voldemort's underpants. Breaking the ice would be the hard part though. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" As soon as the words had left Harry's mouth, he felt like slapping himself.

That had to be the most inappropriately used line of the decade, scratch that, of the century. It wasn't even meant as a come-on, simply as a query as to why she, one of Voldemort's most loyal, most brutal followers, was in a cell with the Boy-Who-Lived, and, from the sounds of it, being tortured. She couldn't like being treated like this, could she?

He had heard about people liking their relationships a little rough, but he couldn't imagine even she was that twisted. He didn't really expect her to reply, either because of who he was, or because she couldn't, so her low chuckle caught him by surprise.

"What's it to you, Potter?"

Harry leaned back against the wall. From the way her breathing sounded, raspy, heavy, and forced, she was having trouble getting air into her lungs. Talking must be rather painful, he surmised. "Just wondering how one of Voldemort's best landed herself in here with me. Did you win the grand prize at the Death Eater lottery for a weekend with the charming Harry P.?"

She laughed. It was a sound that was rather frightening coming from her parched throat. "I screwed up, Potter. That's why I'm here. I'd think you of all people knew what the dark lord is like."

"Yeah, I know that dark idiot." Harry smirked, though she couldn't see it in the darkness. "Which is why I'm surprised you're still alive."

Bellatrix coughed again. "How so?"

"Well, I reckoned Voldemort was pretty quick to dispose of failures . . . permanently. Apparently, the old chap is getting soft in his old age."

The broken woman laughed again, tapering off into a wracking cough. "He's anything but soft, Potter. Failures are never cheap with the Dark Lord. Betrayal . . . you will actually live to regret it."

It was Harry's turn to arch a curious eyebrow. Not that it mattered in the darkness; the gesture was lost on the dark witch. "You, betray Voldemort? That I find hard to believe."

"Believe it, Potter. Now, why would you even care? The last time I saw you, you were hurling killing curses at me, over in Diagon Alley."

Harry remembered the battle. It had been a few months back, before major population centers had fallen under Voldemort's control. Diagon Alley had come under attack, and the Order had responded. Harry had been there. That battle had been where they lost Fred and Neville. Neville's loss had been especially hard on them all, since the boy had taken a curse meant for Harry.

At the time, the Boy-Who-Lived had been too wrapped up in his duel with Bellatrix, ignoring the din of combat all around him. "Just curious what landed you of all people in here," he said.

"Ah." The single syllable was laden with sarcasm, something that she, in her condition, shouldn't even have been capable of producing. "Come to watch the wicked witch die, eh?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Harry snorted in disdain. "I'm not exactly here by choice."

"I could tell," she shot back in the same tone. "I mean, the chains were kind of a giveaway."

"What's with the sane act today, Lestrange? Insanity and baby Bella not doing too well on the wrong end of the torture room? Or maybe," Harry gasped dramatically, "maybe Voldemort tortured you back into sanity!"

"What are you driveling about, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Hey, if you can torture someone into insanity, it figures you'd be able to torture them out again, right? Sort of like knocking you on the head will give you amnesia, and another knock on the noggin gives you back your memory."

Bellatrix chortled. Was that a chortle? It certainly sounded like one. Or maybe she was just choking on her own blood. Harry liked to think it was the latter, rather than believe the crazed witch was capable of humor. "Are you certain I'm the insane one, Potter?" she commented.

"Quite," Harry replied dryly. "Especially since I don't enjoy torture, unlike someone else in this room that shall remain nameless."

If he could see her, he was certain her look would have frozen him solid. "Do I look like I enjoy this, Potter?"

He shrugged again, more for his own benefit than hers. "I can't tell. You usually look insane to me, so you'll forgive me if I can't tell the difference."

"Potter . . ." Bellatrix growled.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"I'll kill you!"

"Get in line. I think Voldemort wants first crack at it, so you'll have to get past him to do it. And speaking of going up against dark lords, your record with that isn't doing too hot now, is it?"

Bellatrix was quiet for a minute, and Harry wondered if she had died, when a gargling sound rose from her body. In the dim light, he could barely tell that she was shaking, even as the sound grew louder, until he realized, to his shock, that she was laughing.

"If you were as quick with your wand as you are with your tongue, Potter," she managed, "the Dark ord would be dead a dozen times over!"

"Strange, and here I thought they kept me around for my charming personality and winning looks."

"Your father you are not."

"Odd, I'm usually told the opposite."

There was no response from Bellatrix. Harry was starved for conversation, so he pressed on. "So, you betrayed Mr. Dark and Ugly. What exactly did you do?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Bellatrix growled.

"Okay," Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself." There was a brief pause before he spoke up again. "But, y'know, I thought in order to be able to betray someone you'd need to be able to think first, so I'd reckon that rules you out, right?"

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Harry made several further attempts at conversation, but Bellatrix did not respond. Owing to the lack of light in the cell, he was unable to tell whether she was asleep, unconscious, or simply ignoring him. He decided that he may as well wait until morning. At least he would have a little more light to see and gauge her by.

It was a long night for Harry. There was no mattress or furniture of any kind, the floor was hard, and he was in chains. Consequently, he was unable to sleep for more than a half hour or so at a time without getting cramped and waking up. To the best of Harry's knowledge, Bellatrix didn't even shift or turn over. He began to wonder if she had died, or maybe if she was just used to sleeping in such conditions. The thought sent a shudder down his back.

Sunrise eventually came and revealed to Harry that Bellatrix was awake, though unresponsive. "Good morning," Harry said brightly. "Y'don't suppose they'll serve us breakfast in bed?"

Bellatrix's eyes shifted to look at Harry; however, her only response was a sigh.

Harry smirked. "Because, you know, considering how much I'm paying for this place, breakfast is the least I'd expect. Not to mention a decent cup of coffee. Maybe a morning paper, too."

When she still didn't reply, he shrugged and leaned back, the chains on his wrists clinking together. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here. I could try and kill you . . . "

"Why don't you, then? You hate my guts. I hate yours. If I could move myself off this bloody spot on the ground, I'd be at your throat, Potter."

"No point." Harry shrugged again. "We're stuck in this. Killing you isn't going to get me out of here. As much as you'd like to believe, you're not important enough to me that I'd place killing you over escaping."

"And here I thought killing me was your life's work," she muttered sarcastically.

"You clearly missed your calling," Harry replied evenly. "You should've been a comedian."

"That's your job, Potter."

"Maybe." Harry glanced from her to the barred door.

"What's percolating in that tiny head of yours, Potter?"

"Since when do you use big words?"

"I use them all the time, just not when you're around. Wouldn't want to overload that pea-sized brain of yours."

"This pea-sized brain of mine has done something no one else has, you know," Harry smirked.

"What's that? Being stupider than anyone else on the planet?"

"Pissing Voldemort off royally."

"You know, regular people call that idiocy."

"I call it fighting for freedom."

Bellatrix snorted disdainfully. "A fight you're losing, Potter. Face it, you suck at this."

"No," Harry replied, his eyes hardening. "The wizarding world is losing this war. They're the ones cowering behind a few, tossing their loyalties behind whoever seems to be winning for the moment."

"And you still fight for these morons?"

"I fight for myself. Voldemort is after me, so I fight back."

"The war's over, you know."

"What're you talking about?"

Bellatrix sighed and took a few moments to answer. For a while, it seemed as if she wouldn't answer him at all when she finally spoke. "The Order of the Phoenix is gone. The Ministry is shattered, the Aurors disbanded. You lost. Once the Dark Lord finds the last couple of survivors, he'll come back to finish you. He's hunting them right now and it's only a matter of time before he finds them. When he returns, we're both dead."

Harry froze in disbelief. Part of him screamed that she was lying, that the Order couldn't have been destroyed in such a short time. It was impossible, there were so many of them left when he had been captured, they were too secure, too spread out, for Voldemort's forces to break them up. Unless . . . a sickening realization hit Harry like a physical blow. Unless the traitor had provided Voldemort with more than just information about the raid on Malfoy Manor. He briefly entertained the thought that she might be lying, but discarded that quickly. In here, in their situation, she had no reason to lie to him.

He sunk down into himself, slumping into his corner of the cell in defeat. He opened his mouth to refute her claims, but found himself unable to utter a sound. The war was over. The Order was gone. He was going to die. Those three phrases repeated themselves over and over in his mind.

He was lost in his thoughts for the rest of the morning. Eventually, his days fell into a sort of sick routine. Every afternoon or evening –he found it hard to tell exactly how late it was – a group of Death Eaters would come down, drag her up for torture, and return her late at night. From what little he could glean from their taunts directed at him, he could tell Bellatrix had been correct. The war was over. Voldemort was off somewhere, hunting down the remnants of the Order.

After the cycle had repeated itself for a few days, Harry discovered something interesting. Whenever Bellatrix returned from being tortured, if she was still conscious, she would be relatively sane, giving as good as she got in their verbal duels. He even came to enjoy their conversations a little, as much as two people who were practically dead could bond. However, when morning came, she always was more subdued, and rarely spoke. It marked a sharp contrast that made him wonder. He had heard a few things about her, about what she had been like in her younger years. Sharp tongue and quick wand, Flitwick had told him once—that was what she'd been like in her youth.

It made him wonder how she'd become a Death Eater when her sister hadn't. Was she just that twisted? Had she always enjoyed torturing other people? It was a morbid curiosity, but it beat sitting around and waiting to die. After a few days, it was the only thing to occupy him, after he had resigned himself that he would not be breaking out without help. He attempted to ask her about it several times, both at night and in the mornings. She never answered those questions.

Their familiar routine ended one day. How long it had been, he found it hard to tell, but assuming that the food and water – a bowl of stale liquid he assumed was water, anyway, and a piece of mouldy, crusty bread that hardly qualified as food – came once a day, it must have been at least a week since his capture. The Death Eaters came and took Bellatrix early in the morning. They didn't return her until very early the next morning. The moment they dumped her body back into the cell, Harry could tell something was wrong.

She didn't move.

Harry moved over and gingerly rolled her onto her back. Her violet eyes were vacant, and her breaths were coming short and pained. She coughed a few times, and when she did, her hand came away slick with her blood. Unsure of what to do, he gently propped her up against the wall until she was sitting up.

It took a few minutes until her ragged breathing calmed somewhat. "Potter . . . that you?"

"I'm here."

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around."

Harry didn't quite know what to make of that request, but did as she had asked of him. There was the sound of tearing fabric. When she stopped rustling, he turned back to face her. She was in the process of buttoning up what was left of her blouse, but what caught his eye was the object in her left hand that hadn't been there before.

It was an exquisitely carved hairpin four inches long, cut from a shimmering black crystal. The tip looked razor sharp and glinted in the dim light in the cell; it widened at the top to accommodate a teardrop-shaped piece of black onyx, from which dangled a small chandelier of crystals that were equally as black as the rest of the ornament. He blinked in surprise; this wasn't something he'd expected her to carry around with her.

Bellatrix finished with her blouse, leaving the top buttons undone as her fingers failed to respond the way she wanted, and let her hands drop into her lap. She stared down at the piece of jewelry in her hands, her expression vacant. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, she slowly turned her head and extended her hand, offering the pin to Harry.

"I'm not exactly one for baubles, Bella," he commented dryly.

"For once in your life, Potter, stop being a smartass and shut up." The words lacked her usual venom and force.

"All right, but I don't exactly see why you're giving me a piece of jewelry. Or giving me anything at all, for that matter."

"It's a Black family heirloom," she replied slowly. "When I was young, I found it in the family vault. It's supposed to be cursed. Or powerful. No one was quite sure, and its real purpose was lost in legend."

"Seems like its real purpose is to hold up hair to me," Harry replied.

"I told you to shut up and listen, Potter." Bellatrix slid down the wall as another set of coughs wracked her body, splattering blood across the front of her tunic. "When I was . . . young, and foolish, I thought I could use it against the Dark Lord, once."

"Why in Merlin's name didn't you pull out the damn thing sooner!"

"I never figured out what it did, you idiot!" Bella hissed. It was as close to a shout as she could manage, in her condition. "Now shut up and listen. This is the last time I'm warning you, Potter. The Dark Lord is on his way back. The Order has been eradicated. Tonight, he will return, and we will both die. That's why they took me for an entire day – it was their last chance to play with me. Take it."

He gingerly closed his hand around the wide end of the hairpin, noticing how cold the crystal felt in his palm. "And now? Something supposed to happen?"

"Now you take it and kill me."

"What! Are you crazy? No wait, I take that back, I know you're crazy, but I didn't think you were this crazy!"

She fixed him with an even stare. "We'll both be tortured until we go insane, like the Longbottoms. Then we'll be healed, only to be tortured again. I don't know about you, but I'd rather die now."

"You don't sound like Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. She died a long time ago. Call it justice, call it mercy, call it vengeance, I don't care. Just put me out of my misery. If you want, you're free to follow, or you can take your chances with the Dark Lord."

Harry held up the hair pin as if it was a dagger and stared at it. He would have given anything for this chance a few days ago, but now it seemed . . . wrong. Logically, he knew that they were both dead the moment Voldemort returned, and what she was asking him was a reasonable out. For both of them. But a part of him couldn't reconcile suicide with the will to live, the strength to fight, that had carried him through his earlier years of the war.

Bellatrix saw the hesitation in his eyes, but she was decided. As far as she was concerned, it was time to die. She lunged toward Harry, grabbed his arm with the hand holding the hair pin and wrenched it toward herself.

The hair pin sunk into her chest and pierced her heart. It was the only possible place that it could have gone that would produce the quantity of blood that poured from the wound. After a second the shock of her actions wore off, and Harry gasped and jumped back, watching as she sunk to the floor, dying with the hair pin in her chest.

"I guess . . . I kind of just went with the flow," she whispered softly.

"What?"

"Your question . . . why I served Voldemort." Bellatrix smiled, really smiled for the first time since he'd known her, her face, though carved with pain, showed a serenity he hadn't expected, and her eyes shone with peace and relief. She sighed and stopped breathing.

He looked down at his hands and saw that they were covered with her blood. Harry began to feel dizzy and sunk to the floor on his knees, settling down next to her. It seemed as if he could hear the footsteps of his captors coming toward the cell, but the sounds seemed so far away and indistinct. The room began spinning and Harry closed his eyes. A chill passed through his body, and in that instant, the illness passed.

Harry was afraid that standing would cause the dizziness to return; so, he blindly stood and backed toward the wall, planning to use it to support himself. Oddly, the wall seemed a little more distant than he had estimated.

After a moment to catch his breath, Harry opened his eyes. To his shock, a teenage version of Bellatrix was standing in front of him. She was easy enough to recognize with her jet-black hair, piercing violet eyes, and arrogant demeanor. She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. Her robes were pristine, her face was clean and undamaged, and she had a wand—pointed at Harry's heart.

"Who are you, and how did you get here?" she demanded with a voice laced with anger and fear.

2. The Birth of Harry Ashworth

As/N: Thank you for all your reviews. They were very encouraging. This chapter should clear up any confusion you might have had from the prologue.

Chapter One

By:

Claihm Solais & Lord Silvere

"Who are you, and how did you get here?" she demanded.

Harry stared at her in surprise. Before him stood a young, a very young, version of the woman whose suicide he had just witnessed. Violet eyes pierced him with a stare that would have left him incapable of rational thought in his younger years as the wand she leveled at him crackled with barely restrained magical energy. Her dueling stance was good, certainly better than he had expected from a teenage witch, but then again, this was the Bellatrix who would go on to become one of the most feared master duelists in his time.

Now that was a strange concept. His time. Did that mean he was in the past? From her appearance, it certainly seemed that way, because he sure didn't feel any younger. Out of reflex, he reached for his own wand before realizing that he no longer had it. Uh, oh, he thought.

"I said," she repeated slowly, dangerously, "who are you, and how did you get here?"

"I don't know?" he said, spouting the first thing that came to mind.

"Pulsus!"

Hampered in his movement by the heavy chains, Harry was unable to dodge and caught the banishing hex full on in the chest. He flew through the air, wincing in pain as he crashed through a bookshelf. Part of his mind took note that he no longer was in his cell, which was a good thing . . . something he reconsidered when he barely managed to roll away in time as several hexes splashed against the ground where he'd been lying.

"Look, can't we talk about this?" he began, only to catch a bludgeoning curse in his left shoulder. He could feel and hear the joint snap as it dislocated while he spun with the force of the blow. Apparently not, he thought to himself as he threw himself forward, rolling when he hit the ground on his good shoulder. Glancing around, he realized he was in a vault that looked suspiciously like the Black family vault at Gringotts. The place was lined with shelves and cabinets and drawers. He hastily took cover behind one of them.

"Whoever you are, you just made a big mistake!" Bellatrix shouted. "Reducto!"

The blasting curse blew the cabinet Harry was hiding behind to pieces, and he barely managed to get his back turned to the explosion to protect his face from the high-velocity shrapnel that constituted the remains of the wooden container. The force of the explosion sent him sprawling forward onto the ground.

His hands groped around the floor for something, anything, to use as a weapon as he tried to rise to his feet. His body, already injured from his capture, undernourished, and dehydrated, was hurting. His back was on fire from the wooden splinters that had embedded themselves there as well as from breaking through the shelf, and his left arm hung limply. Footsteps echoed loudly through the vault as she approached his prone form and he knew that unless he did something, and did it now, he was dead.

The fingers of his right hand found a smooth piece of wood. He grasped it and flung himself around to face her. Their eyes met, and he realized what he was holding in his hand as they faced each other. Her, standing over him, wand leveled at his throat. Him, lying on the ground on his back . . . and a smooth black and silver wand pointed straight at her heart.

"You can't use that," she declared haughtily once the surprise on her face wore off.

"We'll see," he muttered, hoping that she wouldn't call his bluff. He still distinctly remembered Ollivander's warning about never using someone else's wand.

"Incar-" she began, forcing the issue.

Harry closed his eyes, prayed, and hoped that for once he would have luck holding someone else's wand. "Impedimenta!"

A sudden warmth spread through him as he cast the spell, similar to the binding he had undergone with his first holly and Phoenix feather wand, and a jet of red light tore itself loose from the tip of the wand. The body-binding hex didn't quite work the way it was supposed to as Bellatrix cancelled her own spell and brought up a shield, but it gave him the time he needed to roll away from her and behind another cabinet. He muttered a quick transfiguration charm on the chains that bound his wrists and ankles, turning them into paper. He tore them off, then returned his attention to his opponent.

"Damn you," he could hear her swearing. It caused him to smile inwardly. One thing he had learned the hard way during the war was that taunting your opponent in a situation like this was the worst possible thing you could do. It generally gave away your position and your frustration – things the enemy could capitalize on. He held his breath, listening to her footsteps as she walked around, and waited for the perfect moment.

There, he thought. Swinging himself around the cabinet, he raised his wand. "Expelliarmus! Compescor!"

The two spells hit her in quick succession, faster than she could react. The disarming hex threw her backwards, into the wall, even as her wand went clattering deeper into the vault. The binding hex secured her against the marble rock of the vault wall with an invisible force, but that didn't stop her from struggling.

Muttering a quick thank you to whoever had listened to him and made the wand work and filing that oddity for later reference, he slowly walked over, picking up her wand in the process, until he stood in front of her, an arm's length away.

"Now, could we please start this over?" he asked wearily. He was tired, he was hurt, he was hungry and thirsty, and he was in no mood to deal with anyone at this point.

"Are you kidding me?" she snarled, "you're the one who randomly appeared out of nowhere and attacked me!"

"I did no such thing!" he protested. "If you'll recall, I said 'I don't know', to which you took to blasting me through that shelf over there!" he waved over in the direction of the broken piece of furniture. "That hurt, by the way!"

"Good!" she retorted. "That'll teach you a lesson to attack Bellatrix Black!"

"Black…?" he wondered for a moment, before he realized that she probably hadn't married Rudolphous Lestrange yet. "Look, can we start over?" he asked with a weary sigh.

"No."

"What! Why in Merlin's name not?!"

"Because, you moron, you still have me tied to a wall, unarmed, and defenseless! What's a girl supposed to think in this position?"

Harry considered his options for a moment. He could let her down . . . but then again, he wouldn't put it past her to make a grab for her wand and renew the battle once he did. If he didn't, he wouldn't get anything out of her. He sighed. Why couldn't things be easy for once? He glanced around, hoping for a divine sign that would tell him what to do. Of course, there was none.

But his eyes came to rest on something very familiar. A black onyx hairpin, four inches long, which was glittering in the light of the vault. "Where did you get that?" he asked, prodding it with his foot. After what had just happened – for him, anyway – there was no way he was touching it.

"None of your business!"

That sounds like Bella, all right, Harry thought in resignation. He decided to take a different approach. If she didn't respond to polite questioning, maybe she would to the threat of force. Not that he ever would resort to actually using force, but he'd come to realize that the threat of it could be quite effective at times, though it always left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

"Look, your situation isn't looking too good right now," he began.

"Gee, says Mister-I-have-a-dislocated-shoulder-and-can-barely-stand," she shot back defiantly.

"At least I'm the one holding the wand. And if I beat you in this condition, you don't want to know what I'd do to you if I was healed," he snarled, leaning forward and holding the tip of his appropriated wand dangerously close to her throat. "I have had a bad, a very bad day, so I would suggest you don't push me. Now, what did you do with that hairpin, and where did you get it?"

A brief look of guilt crossed her features before she schooled them back into neutral indifference. "I found it in the vault here."

"And?" he prodded.

"I cast a few spells on it. Just to see what it did."

"And?"

"And nothing!" Bellatrix replied haughtily, but there was a hint of frustration in her tone. "It didn't do anything! Not a damn thing!"

Harry signed in frustration, himself. "And you've never seen me before?"

"If I had, I wouldn't have asked who the hell you are, you braindead idiot!"

"I hate talking to you." He really did. Her tongue was just as quick as her wand. Just like Flitwick had told him.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you!"

"Just answer the goddamn question!"

"I just did, you son of a hobgoblin!"

Harry paused for a moment, before realizing that she had, in fact, answered his question. "Oh." He blinked in embarrassment.

"Look," Bellatrix sighed, apparently getting over her initial anger as her innate curiosity took over. "I just wanted to see what the damn thing did, so I case a few magic detection spells on it. Then one moment I was holding it, and the next, boom, you were standing over there."

Harry frowned and stepped back, trying to work his mind through what he'd just learned and piece together everything he knew. It didn't take long for him to come to at least one conclusion. Here, before him, was a young Bellatrix Black, untouched yet by the insanity that would define much of her later life. She was also still a Black, which meant that Lestrange hadn't entered the stage yet, and while she showed some prowess, she wasn't nearly as good a duelist as she had been during her time with Voldemort. No, it couldn't be . . . he thought.

"What's the date?" he finally asked her.

"December twentieth," she told him evenly, more intrigued than annoyed now.

"Year?"

Bellatrix's expression of irritation returned, indicating with quite a bit of certainty that she believed he wasn't the brightest fireball in the shamanic repertoire, but she replied anyway. "Nineteen-seventy-five."

Harry worked his jaw for a few moments, unable to produce any coherent sound. He felt like swearing up a storm, but the words wouldn't come to him. There are no words to describe this mess I'm in, he mused absently. Snape was right, I do get myself into heaps of trouble all the time.

"Well . . ." he started. "That explains where . . .or rather, when, I came from, and how you're here."

"Care to elaborate? It's my pin, anyway, and you're standing in my vault. Actually, you better let me go first, before I decide I've been nice enough and curse your sorry ass into the next century!"

He smirked. She was in no position to make demands, but he could see the glint of curiosity in her eyes, so similar to the expression in Hermione's eyes whenever she found a riddle she couldn't understand. She probably wouldn't try anything aggressive until she had an explanation, at least. He dismissed the spell and helped her to the floor. She picked up the hairpin and clutched it to her chest, then extended a hand for her wand. He debated returning it to her for a moment, before shrugging and handing it back.

"That . . . thing," he explained, jabbing a thumb at the pin, "I don't know if it was designed to do that, or if the combination of spells you cast on it set it off by accident, but it's sent me back in time. I saw it . . . right before I arrived here. Twenty-five years in the future."

"You're crazy."

He chuckled at the fact that she, arguably the most insane witch of the century, was calling someone else crazy. When he continued laughing, the expression on her face turned from amusement and irritation to wide-eyed surprise.

"You're not kidding," she breathed.

"No." Harry shook his head. He eyed her briefly, making sure that she wasn't going to curse him when he had his back turned, then stepped forward towards the wall. She moved away cautiously, but he paid her no mind as he rested his busted shoulder against the wall. This is going to hurt like hell, he thought, before throwing his entire bodyweight forward, against his damaged shoulder. He'd had to do that a few times in the past, and none of them had been pleasant; he let out a brief cry of pain as his shoulder popped back into its socket with a gut-twisting snap.

When he turned around, he found Bellatrix staring at him, her jaw hanging wide open, a look of shock and disgust on her face. "That's . . . that's disgusting," she uttered.

"It works," he countered rolling his left shoulder as the pain faded somewhat.

"So . . ." she said slowly as if mulling things over. "You're from twenty-five years in the future?"

"Give or take a few months, yes."

"You didn't plan this trip."

He smirked. "What gave it away? The fact that I didn't know when I was?"

"The fact that you stumbled into the Black family vault like an idiot!"

"Would you people stop calling me that?" he muttered. "It's always idiot this, moron that, imbecile yonder…"

She chose to ignore his ramblings and continued on with a smirk of her own. "Though it seems that travelling to the past has benefitted you. You should be thanking me."

"You didn't even do anything," he retorted.

"Of course I did! I did lots of things to try and activate it! One of them must have worked." She was giddy, he could tell, though she tried to hide it. "This is amazing, I always wondered what it did; the texts didn't say anything specific . . ."

He blinked, once again briefly reminded of Hermione for a moment, before shaking those thoughts from his head. "You said you did hardly anything to it!"

"I lied." The matter of fact tone brought him up short. Of course, he thought, he should have expected that from her, of all people. It annoyed him anyway. "What did you expect me to do? You had me disarmed and at your mercy, and you were bloody angry! You could've been some crazy maniac who might've murdered me if I didn't answer to your satisfaction! You still might be a crazy maniac who'll murder me anyway! I mean, look at all the blood on your hands!"

"I'm not-" Harry glanced down at his hands, suddenly remembering what had happened just before he'd arrived. He fought down the violent urge to retch and shakily waved the wand to clean the blood off his hands. He'd seen dead bodies before, but somehow, Bella's suicide had shaken him more than he cared to admit . . . maybe it was the pleading expression in her eyes, asking him to end the pain, or maybe it was the fact that her death, with the instrument of her demise still in his hands, was so . . . personal. Much, much more personal than any spell.

"Well, if you're not then you better tell me who the hell you are," she demanded, leveling her wand at him again. "Especially since you seem to know who I am."

"Not this again," he muttered, raising his own wand defensively as he overrode his own thoughts. Now was not the time to dwell on her past…future…death. When she didn't do anything, he blinked and glanced over. "What?"

"That's . . . that's a Black wand," she whispered quietly.

"Yeah, seeing as it came from this vault, I'd assume so," he told her sarcastically.

"Who are you?" she uttered almost reverently. "Black wands are bound to our family; no one outside of it could even touch one without severe harm."

Harry sighed. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot. For your information, significant things happen to that pin of yours in the future. What you did probably had little to do with my arrival here. In any case, I'm not here to harm you, so why don't we start over?" he held out his hand.

Demonstrating remarkable composure, she walked over and took his hand in hers. "Very well. I'm Bellatrix Black."

They shook hands warily. "I'm . . ." he suddenly realized that if he had traveled to the past, then giving his real name would probably be very, very bad. He already had violated the first rule of time travel that he had learned, way back during his first adventure with a time-turner. "I'm . . . someone," he finally said. "I don't think it'd be good if I told you or anyone else my real name. It'd royally screw up the future." More than it already is, he added silently.

"If you've travelled twenty-five years into the past, then you're not old enough to be born yet," she replied after looking him over for a moment. Her gaze decidedly made him feel like a slab of meat on the butcher's table. "It's not as if anyone's going to see you, hear your name, and come to the inescapable conclusion that you're their son who'll be born in a few years."

Harry sighed. "It's a bit more complicated than that. I'd prefer not to say my name."

"Well, I can't be going around calling you idiot all the time. It'd get confusing with all the boneheads at school."

"Kill me now," Harry muttered heavenwards.

"I can do that."

"I didn't mean that literally!"

Bellatrix frowned. "Look, just give me your first name. If you want, we can make up a name for you if you're really so concerned about it."

"Fine," Harry sighed in defeat. "It's Harry."

"So, then . . . Harry Black?" Her eyes glinted with satisfaction at her deduction.

He laughed. "No, actually. How in Merlin's name did you come to that conclusion?"

She pointed at his wand. "Like I said, those wands of our ancestors that are stored here are keyed to our family. If you weren't a Black, it'd have killed you by now. Not to mention the fact that you got past the vault's defenses."

"Interesting point," Harry conceded, silently remembering that he had been named Sirius's heir to the Black fortune and name after his death. Apparently, the magic that bound him to the family transcended time, since the vault clearly recognized him, as did the wand. At least, he hoped this boded well for other matters. "But you're incorrect. I'm not a Black." He debated whether or not he should tell her about inheriting the name.

"Then how?"

"I inherited the name when the last Black died."

Bellatrix blinked in surprise. "Wow. Auntie must've disowned a lot of people, then."

"Something like that," Harry replied, remembering the horrid portrait of Sirius's mother. "Look, I've got to figure out what to do now. There's no point in me trying to return to the future, but I can't parade around here with my real identity."

"I told you, if you want, we can make up a name for you," she offered. "And why wouldn't you want to return to the future? I'm sure we can get that spell to work again."

We, he thought with some amusement. It was an interesting way of phrasing it, as if she'd just assumed they'd be partners in her endeavor. Part of him felt repulsed at the thought of allying himself with Bellatrix, considering the horrors she had committed in the future. Or would commit. He rubbed his temples. Thinking about time travel gave him a headache. "Look," he said, "the future is definitely not a good place right now. There's things here I really ought to do for the benefit of the people in the future. And there is no we in this."

"It's my hairpin, my spell."

"And I don't think you had anything to do with sending me here."

"According to you, the hairpin did, in the future, so my future self must have had something to do with it."

"Look, just leave me alone, okay!"

"Hell no! Do you have any idea what I could do with that kind of magic at my disposal?"

Harry shuddered. "On second thought, give me that damn pin. It's too dangerous."

"No way!"

Harry felt a strong urge to kill her…again, but decided to forego that and began reviewing his options. He was in the past, a past he knew nothing about. He had no contacts, no relatives, no friends and no money. Dumbledore wouldn't even know who he was, and unless he planned on revealing himself to the headmaster, there was nothing he could do about it. Even then, it was unlikely that anyone would believe him. No, he needed help, at least from someone. But Bellatrix? he thought.

She was thinking, too, and figured out a solution before he did. "So . . . you're the Black heir, right?"

"Yes."

"The sole heir?"

"The one and only."

"All right," she started, "why don't you pick up one of those galleons over there and try walking out of the vault with it. Actually, never mind that. Take that wand, and try walking out of the vault with it."

Harry realized what she was getting at. She wanted proof. He grasped the wand tightly in his hand, holding it where she could see it, and proceeded to the entrance. At his touch, the door opened, unlocked, and he stepped out into the underground tunnel. A goblin in a Gringotts card arched a nonexistent eyebrow at him. He merely smiled, waved him off, and stepped back into the vault.

"Happy?" he said dryly.

"Excellent," she grinned, surprising him. He blinked as he realized she actually had a rather pretty smile. In the future, there always was an underlying cruelty and desire to inflict pain and insanity in any of her expressions that wasn't present now. "I'll make you a deal," she offered. "You load up a few thousand galleons into some bags and take them out for me, and I'll help you out."

"Why don't you just help yourself?" he asked in bewilderment. "I mean, you are in here."

"I'm only here for this," she said, holding up the hairpin. "My grandfather left it for me. Besides, I'm not 'of age' yet to take money without the supervision of the Black family head." With a grin, she added, "which is you."

"So let me get this straight," Harry snorted, trying to conceal a chuckle. "You want my help to rob the Black vault, and in return you'll help me do what, exactly?"

She seemed a little hesitant to define just exactly what she would offer to do for him. "I'll help you get on your feet. You can take a part of that money, and I'll help you find a job. I'll collaborate with you on whatever background you want for yourself, and I can provide you with the contacts to draw up the necessary paperwork—for a price, of course. These papers don't come cheap. But," she intoned, "I also want in on whatever you figure out about the magic of this thing." She gestured towards the pin in her hand.

Harry stared at her for a moment, briefly probing her mind with the limited legilimency he knew. The few seconds he had before she realized what he was doing, forcing him to withdraw from her mind, were enough to determine that the offer, at least, was honest, and that she intended to keep her end of the bargain—for now, at least.

"That wasn't very polite," she told him angrily.

"I had to know if I can trust you," he replied evenly.

They stared at each other for a few moments, before she backed down. "Fine," she acknowledged. "But if you do it again, I'll rip your lungs out, understood?"

"You're welcome to try, Black."

"So, what do you say?" she asked, purposefully choosing to ignore his barb.

He sighed as he weighed his options. "All right."

"Excellent!" Bellatrix chimed happily, grabbing a bag and tossing it to him. "Load up!"

Feeling slightly guilty, Harry loaded several thousand galleons into the sack. Wordlessly, she conjured another sack for Harry and he helped himself to a sizeable amount of gold. "Let's get out of here," Harry said as soon as he was finished.

"My thoughts exactly," Bellatrix replied, shrinking her sack and dropping it into a pocket in her robes. She pulled the hairpin from her robe's sleeve. As she arranged her hair so as to be able to wear it, she nodded toward Harry's acquired wand. "You may as well take that too, but the goblins won't have to ask questions if they don't see you carrying it around. I'm going to wait for a bit before depositing my share."

Harry looked down at the wand he had used to defend himself. The shaft felt like black ash, tipped with silver, though he didn't know what the core was. He didn't really care, either, so long as it worked. "Good point," he said, pocketing it.

They exited the vault, both much richer, and were taken to the lobby by the goblin Harry had seen. Happily, the goblin in question did not comment about Harry's strange appearance, especially not after a galleon was discreetly pressed into his hands.

They soon found themselves in front of Gringotts, at a busy intersection in Diagon Alley. Bellatrix turned to him with a triumphant smirk. "That was a job well done!"

"If you say so," he shrugged.

"Now, we're going to have to come up with a name for you, if you're really intent on not revealing your real one."

"Smith? Maybe Jones?" Harry offered.

Bellatrix snorted in disdain. "Oh please. Give me a break. Where's your creativity? If I'm going to get you connected, you're going to need a more distinguished name. A pureblood name." She eyed him critically. "You are a pureblood, right?"

Harry frowned as he wondered how to answer. "Yes, as far as I know," he replied slowly. Technically, it wasn't a lie. The Potters were an old pureblood family, and while Lily Evans, his mother, had been a Muggle-born, he wasn't entirely sure about the rest of her family. It was a shaky bit of not telling the whole story, but it would have to suffice.

"As far as you know?" Bellatrix echoed.

"What, you have something against being Muggle-born?"

"Not really," she shrugged, "though, everyone else does."

"I see."

"Couldn't I just say that I'm a distant relative of the Blacks?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "You'd never get away with it. Auntie has that pedigree chart at Grimmauld Place. You'd be exposed the instant you opened your mouth."

"Oh," Harry said, mentally reviewing the name of every pureblood family he'd heard of.

"I've got it: Harry Ashworth," Bellatrix announced. "I can work with that."

"Ashworth?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I can pull it off," Bellatrix told him. "They used to be quite common in England, but they migrated to Australia and New Zealand. There's enough of them over there that none of them would be able to say you aren't an Ashworth, even if you did have the misfortune to meet one or two."

Harry mulled it over quickly. He'd never even heard of an Ashworth, so meeting one by chance seemed unlikely. "All right," he agreed. "I'll be Harry Ashworth."

"Great," Bellatrix said. "Let's get going, Ashworth. I don't have all day."

"Where were we going?" Harry asked.

"Well, Ashworth, you look and smell like a slob," Bellatrix said, breaking it to him kindly—at least for her standards, anyway. "First, we'll get you a room at the Leaky Cauldron to take care of the smell. Then we'll see if there's anything we can do about your looks."

Harry started to protest and tell her that he'd been a prisoner for quite a while, but decided that it would be better to keep any details about the future a secret. No need for her to know who he'd been fighting for –and against – in the future.

A much younger looking Tom the barkeep was able to arrange a room for Harry and he took a half-hour to shower and clean up a bit while Bellatrix waited impatiently. He sputtered in protest when, tired of waiting, she stuck her head into the bathroom and peeked around the shower curtain several times to ask if he was done yet.

After he had finished showering and gotten over his mortification – to which she'd laughed – he had then been hauled him to the shop that would be called Madam Malkin's in the future. At this time, however, it bore the name of Messrs. Malkin & Malkin—Master Tailors. "Must run in the family," Harry muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Bellatrix asked.

"Nothing," Harry told her curtly.

Bellatrix spent the next hour mercilessly giving directions to the tailor who was fitting Harry while thumbing through various fabrics and patterns. Harry did not get to choose what he ended up buying; but luckily, Bellatrix did have some good taste, though it was a little dramatic. At least it beats the taste in clothing she'll develop later in life, he thanked God for small favors. He did not want to end up running around in all black, torn and tattered robes looking like a maniac.

They stopped in at various other shops where Bellatrix insisted that Harry buy different trinkets that no pureblood should be without, though he really didn't understand the point of having a penholder with built-in ink bottle when he used a separate ink bottle to begin with. And a quill that didn't fit the penholder. At one store, they bought a trunk and Harry was grateful for having something to place his purchases in. He also found himself glad that he'd bought a very, very big trunk, because no matter how much they shopped, they kept buying more. So much in fact, that he could practically feel the bag of coins in his pocket getting lighter as he pulled out coin after coin.

Harry and Bellatrix didn't linger long in any of the shops they visited. Harry had heard that girls could spend hours shopping and had even seen it with Ginny back in his time before everything went to hell, but Bellatrix seemed very impatient. Somehow though, they did manage to squeeze in a stop by almost every single store in Diagon Alley, even if Bella just stepped in to grab an owl-order form for Harry's growing collection.

"I don't know what we're going to set you up as," Bellatrix explained as he stuffed the sheets of paper into the trunk. "You'll want to be able to order anything you might need. Did you have a job before your accident?

Seeing where Harry had stuck the latest owl-order form, Bellatrix muttered under her breath, reached in, and uncrumpled the pages, neatly sliding them into a side pocket where they would be safe and out of the way of anything else he might toss in.

"It was sort of in the line of auror work," Harry said vaguely.

"Good luck having that happen again," Bellatrix said. "That would take more identity papers than I think you can afford."

Not if I empty the Black vault, Harry thought dryly, but didn't say anything out loud.

They passed Ollivander's. Harry briefly considered going in to buy his old wand, but he ultimately decided against it. Either Dumbledore or the Ministry would be notified of the wand's purchase and furthermore, it was unlikely that anyone other than Harry would come to purchase it for years to come. It could wait. Not to mention the fact that he would end up running into the brother-wand problem again, which wasn't something he looked forward to. No, maybe for now it would be best to keep the Black wand he'd taken from the vault. It seemed to work reasonably fine, but he'd have to fully check it out before going into battle with it.

They concluded their shopping before long and were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron – well, Bella was walking, occasionally prodding Harry with a long, manicured, fingernail, while Harry was struggling with his trunk. It did have enchantments on it to make the inside bigger and lighter, but there seemed to be a limit on how much weight it would reduce. As it was, he found himself struggling to drag it along. It took a good fifteen minutes before Harry had had enough and shrunk the trunk – remembering to put a weight-enchantment on it – and stuffed it into his pocket, while Bella looked on with an amused smirk that clearly told him she thought him an idiot for not thinking about it earlier.

"Don't say it!" he warned her. She wisely kept silent.

They had almost reached the pub when they ran into trouble, heralded by a loud groan from Harry's companion. She stepped up in front of him and glared.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to spot what would cause her to react that way.

"It's the Three Stooges," she muttered darkly, just as Harry spotted the three very familiar figures walking around the corner: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black . . . and James Potter.

Harry froze at the sight of so many familiar, if younger, people. Remus Lupin had vanished on a top-secret mission for the Order in his time, and had never been heard from again. The werewolf had been presumed killed, but no one knew for sure. Not even Voldemort would answer that question when asked. Sirius, of course, had been killed while dueling his own cousin, Bella, during Harry's fifth year at the Ministry. And then there was James Potter—his father, the man Harry had heard so much about but had never gotten to meet.

Surprisingly, it was James Potter who opened the verbal gun ports the instant he saw Bellatrix. "Getting more manuals on how to torture muggles, Bella?" he asked with a sneer. "If so, you missed your exit. Knockturn Alley is that way."

"Bugger off, Potter," Bellatrix shook her head. "You're not even worth my time. And for your information, I do not torture muggles in my free time. I also don't harass other students, humiliate them, or make them a laughingstock for my own amusement ."

James stepped into her way as she tried to walk past. "You Slytherins don't deserve anything better, anyway. Backstabbing snakes, the lot of you."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? And I suppose you Gryffindors are so much better?"

"At least we know the meaning of the word loyalty!"

"Everyone else calls it idiocy," Bellatrix countered. It brought Harry up short. The words were the same as the older Bellatrix had spoken to him, back in the cell.

"I wouldn't expect a Slytherin to understand."

"You don't understand it, yourself, Potter," she replied haughtily. "You spout all this drivel about honor and loyalty and integrity, but you don't have a damn clue as to what it actually means."

James sneered at her. "And you Slytherins do? You don't even know the concept of loyalty."

"At least we have a brain to understand it with!"

"We never got to finish our duel back in DADA last semester," James growled as he stepped forward, drawing his wand from his belt. "How about we finish it now? Or are you scared, Black?"

"In your dreams, Potter," Bellatrix replied evenly, flicking her wrist and catching her wand in one smooth motion.

Harry looked away from his father and realized what was going on. Glancing over at Sirius and Remus, he knew that he couldn't expect any help from that corner – Remus was frozen in shock while Sirius was trying to remind James that they were still subject to the underage magic clause. James wouldn't listen and raised his wand despite Sirius' advice. In response, Bellatrix stepped into her own dueling stance.

Why me? Harry complained to himself as he drew his own wand, flicking it in one smooth motion without uttering a word. Both Bellatrix and James found themselves staring at their empty hands in surprise as their wands flew into the air, arcing gently to land in Harry's outstretched hand. He glared at the two of them, feeling a bit odd that he was actually going to reprimand his own father.

"That's enough, both of you," he said slowly, letting a bit of his annoyance seep into his tone. He had seen enough fighting in his time – fighting that had cost lives, that had been deadly serious. This was just a squabble between two students who didn't know any better and were going way overboard in settling whatever score they had to. He was sick of people needlessly getting hurt. He purposefully walked in between the two and turned full circle, arms crossed over his chest, to look them both in the eye. "Are you through acting like bickering children?"

"Wha-" Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off when Harry glared at her.

"You call yourself a Slytherin!" he chuckled. "Let me tell you what I've learned about Slytherins in the past, the good ones and the bad ones: they all had one thing in common. They prided themselves on their cunning, their smarts. Subterfuge, cloak and dagger, intelligence," he said, tapping his temple, "that is what they're good at. Charging off into a fight at the first insult is something unbecoming of a Slytherin."

Bellatrix closed her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise at his declaration as she suddenly looked at him in a new light, as the realization dawned on her that despite his seemingly young age – he didn't look much older than someone who had graduated Hogwarts a few years ago, twenty to twenty-two at most, once he'd cleaned up. Realization that he understood, not just the horror stories everyone told of the Slytherins, the derisions and snide remarks, not just the way the dark wizards and most of her family twisted the teachings of Slytherin and the meaning of the house to be backstabbing, treacherous, and self-serving. He understood the real meaning of the house.

"And you!" Harry spun around and leveled a glare on his father, who had by now been restrained by Sirius and Remus. "You call yourself a Gryffindor! She's right, you know – honor, loyalty, integrity, bravery, you understand nothing of these things. You claim honor…your honor is above petty squabbles about practice duels unfinished – when you fight for your life, when you're asked to guard something with your life, when you are entrusted with something that could cause many deaths…that is when you show honor! Doing what's right, even when it's tough, that's what bravery is about, that's where you show your integrity, not when you drivel on about your perceptions of ideology when you know nothing about it!" It took Harry a moment to realize that his voice had risen to almost a shout, and that he had a captive audience around him that was deathly quiet.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, managing to close the jaw he had hanging open in slack-jawed amazement. "Whoa." He turned to his long-time friend. "He's got you there, mate. I told you going out and picking fights with Slytherins is a bad idea. They're not all bad, you know."

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" James demanded as he tried to break free of the grip Sirius had on his arm.

"It doesn't matter," Harry answered quietly, almost softly, realizing how much attention he'd drawn to himself, even as the crowd dispersed. "But you have to understand one thing: what you're doing now . . . it's childish, and dangerous. You were willing to start a fight in a crowded area, and you are both underage. A lot of people could have gotten hurt, and why? Because you ran into a classmate who happens to be in a different house? Tell me, do you go around picking fights with any Slytherin you run into?"

When James shrugged defiantly, Harry sighed. "It doesn't matter now. But I really suggest you try to understand what the houses really stand for, before you go around picking fights again." He turned around and handed Bellatrix back her wand, and passed James's to Sirius, who pocketed it with a slight grin.

The sound of soft clapping caused all five of them to turn around. Standing in the shade of a tree, next to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor not twenty feet away, was Albus Dumbledore. He was eyeing Harry with an intrigued twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Well said, young man. Well said indeed," the headmaster said as he stepped forward.

3. Flirting with Disaster

As/N: Well . . . we had like four or five mile posts we wanted to blow past in this chapter . . . but we only got halfway past the first before concluding we had to cut it off. So that can be a good or a bad thing. We appreciate all of your reviews—we actually do read them and apply your feedback as best we can. FYI—we're saying that Harry is 20. Bella is currently beginning the second half of her sixth year.

Chapter Two

By:

Claihm Solais & Lord Silvere

"Well said, young man. Well said indeed," Dumbledore said as he stopped clapping and strode forward, leveling a stern gaze at the trio of Marauders. "As for you, Mr. Potter, I had expected better of you. You know full well you are not allowed to use magic outside of school. I also had believed that you possessed better judgment than this."

"Sorry, Professor," James muttered contritely.

Based on Harry's knowledge of his father's school years, he vaguely suspected that James was more upset with the fact that he'd been stopped rather than feeling any kind of real remorse.

Dumbledore sighed. "Seeing as you're not in school at the moment, I can't really discipline you, but I warn you, Mr. Potter. Don't let anything like this happen while you're at school, or there will be consequences. The last thing we need is people causing trouble."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Now, Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, how about you take Mr. Potter to get some ice cream? I find it cools hot tempers quite effectively."

Sirius and Remus both grinned at the idea as Dumbledore handed them a galleon each from his voluminous robes and smiled benignly. "Here you go, gentlemen. Please, do enjoy yourselves. You are on your holidays after all, and Christmas is coming up."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore!" Sirius and Remus chorused after they had gotten over their surprise. "And have a great Christmas, Headmaster!"

The headmaster chuckled and waved as Sirius and Remus dragged James off to the ice cream parlor. "Merry Christmas, you three!"

Dumbledore turned his attention to the two still remaining. He had readily identified Bellatrix Black from where he had observed the attempted duel, but the fading light of dusk had made it difficult to see the young man with her.

Now that he was up close, Dumbledore observed that the stranger possessed an appearance remarkably similar to that of James Potter. With the exception of the piercing green eyes, his face shared Potter's features, even on up to the messy black hair that had long been a Potter trademark. On the other hand, the stranger sported a paler complexion, slighter build, and shorter height.

"Miss Black," he inclined his head in greeting, not really surprised that he only got a curt nod in reply. "And Mister . . ."

"Ashworth," Harry said perhaps, too quickly. He fought down the sudden urge to panic when he realized that he had just inadvertently attracted the attention of one of the few people he really didn't want to run into yet.

Harry knew that Dumbledore was far too canny and experienced for Harry to get away with vague or poorly crafted lies. Though he was perfectly aware that he would one day have to coordinate whatever efforts he decided to make against Voldemort with Professor Dumbledore, he just wasn't ready yet. Further, the thought of walking into Dumbledore's office and announcing that he was from the future just seemed too ludicrous. He'd be locked up in St. Mungo's he could say anything else.

"Mr. Ashworth," Dumbledore acknowledged amicably, "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," Harry replied, trying to come off as neutral as possible.

If Dumbledore noticed that Harry was uncomfortable, he didn't show it. He smiled toward Bellatrix before redirecting his attention to Harry. "I was rather impressed with your handling of the situation just now, and your comments about the houses we have at Hogwarts. You seem to know a lot about my school."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "It's a famous school. We hear a lot about it, even back at home."

"He's from Australia," Bellatrix supplied when Dumbledore looked at Harry quizzically, holding up her end of the collaboration bargain.

"Ah," the headmaster said jovially. "Would you two care to join me for supper? I hear Tom has a new recipe for shepherd's pie and that is said to be rather good."

"That's quite all right, headmaster," Bellatrix replied.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently at her. "You are not off the hook yet, Ms. Black. You nearly came to blows too. I would greatly appreciate it if you would join us."

Bellatrix looked as though she wanted to turn him down anyway when he continued, "And I wouldn't mind talking to Mr. Ashworth for a little bit—just to get to know him a little better."

Harry almost blurted out why? He composed himself quickly, then thought about turning down the headmaster as well. He didn't want to talk to him so soon; for fear that he might slip and reveal something he shouldn't. On the other hand, if he refused now, Dumbledore would just become all the more intrigued, at least if he was anything like the Dumbledore he knew in the future.

He weighed his options and concluded that it might be better to just bite the bullet, talk to him now, and get him off his back. He would have to be very careful about what he said, so that he didn't spark the headmaster's interest any further.

"Sure. I'm hungry, and it's been a long trip."

Dumbledore stroked his beard as his eyes twinkled. "Fabulous! The Leaky Cauldron is just over this way. I would very much like to hear the tale of how you two encountered each other."

Oh boy, Harry groaned mentally. Bellatrix decided to take pity on him and nodded sharply, indicating that she would come along, though her eyes made it clear that she'd rather not. The headmaster clapped his hands together in delight, and the trio set off for the Leaky Cauldron. The entire way, one thought occupied both Harry and Bellatrix's minds: How in Merlin's name do we explain meeting each other?

The Leaky Cauldron was busy as usual, though Tom was able to show them to a vacant table. Dumbledore, Harry, and Bellatrix sat down and nodded a polite thanks to Tom. They quickly ordered, and Harry took great care to not seem familiar with the menu of the place.

"Ashworth . . ." Dumbledore began slowly, before chuckling. "Ah! I have heard a great deal about your family . . . very influential in the past, no?"

"We had a little pull, but that was a long time ago, when we were still here in Britain," Harry replied cautiously.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Ms. Black mentioned that you were from Australia—most of your family resides there now, don't they? I knew one of your distant relatives, I think. A Lewfidius Ashworth." The headmaster chuckled to himself as he delved into the memory. "Quite a bit of a prankster, but a good man. Fiendish sense of humor. I don't suppose you know him? Probably not. I understand that there are a lot of Ashworths down that way."

Harry and Bella glanced at each other. The conversation was light and it carried on for a few minutes about inconsequential topics until the food arrived. When it did, Harry let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the pause in conversation as the three of them ate. The lull would give him some time to think about what to say should Dumbledore ask about anything he didn't want him to know about. It also gave his frayed nerves a break as he kept expecting the ancient wizard to suddenly pull an about-face and ask something he didn't have an answer for. At times, Dumbledore had seemed as if he could see right through Harry, and he was sure even a two-decade younger Dumbledore was still capable of it.

"So," Dumbledore asked between two forkfuls of shepherd's pie, "how did you two meet? I'm assuming you are new in town, Mr. Ashworth?"

Grasping on to the straw that had just been handed to them, Bellatrix nodded. "I was just showing him around Diagon Alley. He needed to purchase a few things in order to get settled in."

"We bumped into each other at the bank," Harry shrugged. It was close enough to the truth to not be a lie. "She ended up offering to show me around to some of the shops I needed to visit." He then decided to rib Bellatrix a little bit. "It was very sweet of her to do so."

Harry was promptly rewarded with a violet-colored glare.

"Ah. It's good to see Ms. Black make some friends outside of her circle at school," the headmaster commented."I am afraid she prefers the isolation of her studies, and even her cousin can't do much about it."

"Her cousin?" Harry forced himself to ask.

"Young Mr. Black. He was with Mr. Potter earlier," Dumbledore explained. "Speaking of Mr. Potter . . . are you by any chance related to him? I couldn't help but notice that you looked rather similar . . ."

Harry flushed for a brief moment before he retained his control. He noticed the suddenly watchful gaze of the young woman next to him, and quietly swore to himself. She hadn't picked up on it yet, but she had noticed now, after Dumbledore had pointed it out. Damn, he thought, that's going to be a tough one to explain. I don't suppose they'd fall for the "it's a coincidence" excuse?

"I'm not acquainted with any Potters," Harry replied vaguely after what seemed like a small eternity frozen in indecision to him. It was the truth. "Though, what with the way things are, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a vague connection somewhere along the line."

Dumbledore seemed to buy it, but Harry caught Bellatrix's still-skeptical look before she quickly wiped it off her face.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, but Dumbledore's curiosity soon drove him to further questions. "I'm curious about what would motivate a young man such as you to come to England," Dumbledore commented. "Do you have any job prospects?"

"I'm looking for a position," Harry replied neutrally. "However, I don't have a specific line of work in mind, and I just arrived in town. I'll take some time to get settled before I begin my search."

"Really?"

Harry supposed that Dumbledore wanted him to elaborate, but he had nothing to elaborate about—at least nothing that he had established for his assumed identity. Having no other feasible choice, Harry feigned misunderstanding. "Yeah."

Dumbledore was puzzled. He truly didn't understand why a young man would move from Australia to England without even an idea of what he wanted to do. He had an overwhelming desire to ask more questions, but the young man opposite him seemed to pick up on it.

"Well, this has been really pleasant, but I need to get going. I still have a few things to do before I decide to call it a day." Harry announced. Bellatrix let out a relived sigh.

"It's been very enjoyable evening. Perhaps we'll see each other again," Dumbledore acknowledged.

"They say it's a small world," Harry said in a non-committal tone.

The two younger wizards took their leave and cleared out of the pub, leaving Dumbledore by himself. The headmaster sat in silence for several moments, pondering the conundrum that was Harry Ashworth. There were a few things that did not add up with the young man; he realized now that the two had cleverly avoided telling him how exactly they had met when he had asked them. There was also the fact that despite his young age, Mr. Ashworth seemed to be a wizard of remarkable ability, if his wordless disarmament of Bellatrix and James Potter was any indication. Thinking back through the conversation, to what he had been told, Dumbledore waved over Tom. "A Guinness, if you please, Tom."

"Comin' right up, Professor," the barkeep drawled. "Though why you insist on drinking that Irish stuff when we've got perfectly good homebrewed beer here is beyond me."

Chuckling at the barkeep's ramblings, Dumbledore suddenly shot upright, as he realized what had been bothering him. "He's from Australia" was what Ms. Black had said. If he's from Australia . . . why is he speaking with a British accent? The headmaster wondered. There was obviously a lot more to Harry Ashworth than he had been told.

The way he moved and held himself with confidence and the way he deflected questions about himself – giving answers without really answering – told Dumbledore that he was no mere young wanderer lacking guidance as Ashworth seemed to want people to think he was. No, there was skill and experience hidden beneath that outer layer of a cheerfully ignorant young man.

With a sigh, the headmaster drained a good part of the Guinness that Tom had placed in front of him. Without any further information, there wasn't much he could do. He hadn't sensed any malice about the young man, and at the moment, Dumbledore had more important things to worry about.

He filed the oddity that was Harry Ashworth away, for now. It could require further investigation later, but until Mr. Ashworth did something that would put him "on the radar," as the Muggles were apt to put it, Dumbledore decided to let it be. Bellatrix deserved to have some friends.

"Is there a reason why you yanked me out here instead of letting me go on up to my room?" Harry asked Bellatrix when she stopped outside of the Leaky Cauldron on the Muggle side of London.

"We need to talk before I leave you on your own for the day. What I've got to tell you isn't something Dumbledore needs to hear, and did you really want him to know where you live? Not to mention what he'd say if he saw me follow you up to your room?" Bellatrix said.

"Good point," Harry conceded.

"I figured," Bellatrix said with a smug grin. "Now look, I don't have time to hold your hand as you go about getting your documentation. I've got a few contacts down in Knockturn Alley. I'll only tell you this once, so listen, and listen well. Go down Knockturn Alley. Keep going until you pass McNarth's Magical Mistresses. Turn right at the next cross-roads and then turn right again. There's a small back-alley, with a dingy old store. The sign is almost impossible to read, but if you squint, the dirt stain on it will look a bit like a boar's head. That's where you go."

Harry blinked rapidly as he tried to keep up with her directions. "Okay. So . . . go down till McNarth's, right, right, to the place with the dirty sign that looks like a boar's head. Got it."

"No, no, no!" Bellatrix shook her head emphatically. "Go down to McNarth's, right, right, then you go to the place with the store."

"How's that different from what I just said?" Harry scratched his head in confusion.

"There's a right at the crossroads after McNarth's, and then there's a tiny little alley that goes off to a different right!" Bellatrix explained in annoyance.

"So I take that right?"

"No! You take the other right!" Bellatrix shuddered as she suppressed the urge to slap him. "You go on the main right, you moron! Then you pull into the alley!"

"Would you stop calling me that?" Harry growled back. "Why are you always calling me an idiot or a moron, anyway?"

"What do you mean, 'always'? I've barely just met you!"

Harry clammed up when he realized he'd slipped up. Trading insults with Bellatrix in his time had become something of a familiar ritual, and she seemed inordinately fond of calling him an idiot and a moron . . . much like Snape, now that he thought about it. This Bella hadn't insulted him yet, aside from their brief spat when he'd suddenly appeared in the vault. "Nothing," he muttered.

Bellatrix eyed him carefully. "Oh, I don't think so, Ashworth. But I've got to head home soon, or Auntie is going to start wondering, so listen up." And I will find out what you are hiding yet, she thought to herself. You are definitely related to Pot-for-brains, or know him, or something in that future of yours . . . and you know me. And I want to know what exactly is going on.

"Fine."

"All right," Bellatrix started again, "passing off forged magical documents is hard, but passing off forged foreign magical documents is going to be even harder, and costly. More importantly, they take time. A few weeks, at least. So, for now, I suggest that you get some Muggle documentation first – that's easy enough to arrange. You'll need a passport and a birth certificate."

"Aren't those easier to forge?"

Bellatrix groaned in frustration and lightly slapped him upside the head. "That's the point, moron!"

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment, before shaking his head. She filed that oddity for later use, as well. When he pouted, she raised her hand as if to slap him again, causing him to cringe.

"Stop doing that!"

"Then stop acting like an idiot!"

"I hate you . . ."

"You can hate me all you like," Bellatrix shot back, "but you'll answer my questions yet. You've got no idea how annoying I can be!"

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Harry murmured to himself.

Bellatrix looked at him strangely, then jolted when a nearby clock chimed the full hour. "All right, now the most difficult thing to forge that you'll want ASAP-"

"Why would you want a sap?"

"ASAP," Bellatrix hissed. "As-soon-as-possible! It's a Muggle expression, dummy! Now shut up, stop asking questions, and let me finish, by Merlin's beard! You'll want an apparition license as soon as you can get one, if only just to get around. That's going to be expensive, and hard to get. You've got three choices there: a forged Australian one, a forged British one, or you can go take the test here at the Ministry. A forged license will take quite a while, but in order to take the test you'll need documentation. Whichever you want to do, it's up to you."

"All right."

"Oh, and when you get there, ask for old man Falschmann. Tell him Bella sent you. And for goodness sake, make sure those boneheads date the documents on a work day! I remember Siri wanted to get a Muggle ID once to get into a pub when he was underage, and the morons there dated it as issued on a Sunday . . ." she trailed off, then shrugged with a slight smile. "Oh well, serves Siri right."

"All right . . ." Harry tried to keep everything she had told him straight, allowing himself a small smile at her mention of Sirius. That sounded like something he would do, all right.

"And one last thing – be careful around these people. I think you can take care of yourself, but these aren't exactly the most upstanding of citizens. Keep your money close, and your wand closer. I'll try to get you hooked up to some of the pureblood families later – I think Auntie is planning a party later this month. I'll see what I can arrange." She glanced around, pulled out her wand, and winked at him. "See you around, Ashworth," and disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry stood there for a moment, blinking in surprise at the spot she had just vacated. To his surprise, he had been about to say, "Take care, Black." Now that was strange, he thought to himself. The entire day had been a whirlwind of confusion, mixed emotions, and tension, and it slowly caught up with him as he propped the door to the Leaky Cauldron open, peering inside to check if Dumbledore was still there. When he was sure that he wasn't, Harry went inside and headed straight up to his room.

It was strange – the day had started with him in captivity, facing certain death when Voldemort returned. He had traded insults with Bella then watched her kill herself practically in his arms, only to suddenly find himself two and a half decades in the past, faced with a very different Bellatrix. He frowned as his thoughts drifted to the younger version of the woman he had hated so much for the last few years of his life. In his time, Bellatrix had been a crazed murderer, torturing and killing and inflicting unspeakable cruelties on innocent people. Aside from Voldemort, she had been Harry's nemesis, the one person he had promised himself that he would stop. He hated her, despised her, and what she did, with every fiber of his being.

So why don't I hate her, then? he asked himself quietly as he sat in the silence of his room, the bustle of the pub downstairs slowly fading away. And that was it, he realized. He didn't really hate this younger Bellatrix, for reasons he couldn't understand. He disliked her, which was true. He didn't trust her as far as he could throw Hagrid, not unless he'd probed her with Legilimency first. He despised what she had become in his time. But he didn't hate her, because when he looked at her, the few times she had slipped up – and he had a sneaking suspicion that those were isolated incidents, triggered by the surprises of the day – she had reminded him of the friends he had back home.

Her curiosity, her desire to learn about magic, that was so much like Hermione. Her savvy attitude and witty retorts, that reminded him so much of Ginny and the twins . . . her quick temper and wand, which had become almost a trademark of Ron. It was strange to suddenly realize that so many of the people familiar to him had traits that were wrapped up in one person. And then there was the fact that Bellatrix was nothing like he had imagined she would be in her youth. The few conversations he had had with the Hogwarts staff after he graduated had been limited to her abilities and skills, and there had been very little time to discuss her personality.

Flitwick's comments about her were about all he knew about what she had been like, and he found himself surprised to find out that she was nothing like he had expected. She was nothing like Draco Malfoy or his father, or even some of the other Death Eaters and future Death Eaters he had met. With a groan, he forcibly shut all those thoughts from his mind. He was tired, and the days of captivity were catching up with him. He resolved to think about these matters later, when he had rested.

"Turn right here…" Harry muttered to himself as he glanced back down the street he had come from and saw a sign advertising "McNarth's Magical Mistresses – A Sprite, Pixie, Fairy, or Zealotus for your Every Pleasure!" Ahead of him was a three-way intersection, and he couldn't quite decide which right he was supposed to head down to. Glancing around him at the shady figures lurking about, their hoods pulled tightly around them, and others – grotesquely malformed and dressed in rags, with a predatory gleam in their eyes – he didn't think he would be getting a reasonable response if he walked up to them and asked "Excuse me, where I can find the place with the sign that's got dirt on it that looks like a boar's head?"

Finally, he settled on one way and headed down the street, hoping he'd picked the correct one. When he reached the next intersection, he turned right again, as per Bellatrix's directions, and let out a relieved sigh when he spotted a little alley. Right there, on the corner, was a small building that had a crooked signpost next to the door. Dangling precariously from the post, one of the two chains holding the wooden sign broken, was a banner that was too dirty to read. Harry squinted and turned his head this way and that, until he was satisfied that, with a lot of imagination – and probably a few gallons of alcohol – it did, indeed, look like a boar's head.

Setting his shoulders and trying to ignore the stench that came from behind the building – he hated to think about what was causing this kind of smell on the other side of the house! – he shoved the door open and walked in. "Hello?" he called into the room as he glanced around his surroundings.

Torches flickered around the room, bathing it in a warm orange glow. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and there was a clean counter with a few chairs in front of it in the back of the room. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, scrolls, and tablets, causing Harry to pause. Did I walk into the wrong building? He asked himself. This didn't exactly look like a forger's den. It didn't even look like the place belonged into Knockturn Alley to begin with!

"Can I help you?" a female voice came from what he assumed was the back room. A few seconds later, a young woman opened the door that led further into the house. She grinned wryly and politely coughed into her hands.

Harry started when he realized he'd been staring. She was well-dressed, to his surprise, in Muggle clothes. A cream-colored, long-sleeved blouse was fitted around her torso, tucked neatly into a high-waisted black skirt that hugged her hips and legs and ended an inch above her knees. A light pink sash tied around her waist, its ends left loose to dangle next to her left hip. Muggle-made high heeled shoes completed the image, raising her heels three inches off the ground. "Oh, sorry," he said, clearing his throat in embarrassment.

She eyed him curiously, with a smile that told him that she got this particular reaction quite a lot, and casually brushed a lock of her dark red hair behind her ear. "So, what can I help you with, Mr. . . .?" he noticed her strange accent, as she rolled her "R"s and flattened out her vowels.

"Ashworth." Harry reflexively stuck out his hand.

She shook it without hesitation, her entire demeanor warm and inviting. "Mr. Ashworth, it is."

"I'm here to talk to, uhm, Falschmann. Bella sent me."

"Oh, I'll get my father then. Just a moment!" she said brightly before turning around and vanishing through the door. Moments later, she returned, accompanied by an equally well-dressed middle-aged man who was dressed in a Muggle suit and tie, though the tie was loose around his neck, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

"Ah, another customer from my little Bella. What can I help you with?" His accent was much more pronounced than his daughter's, and Harry could finally place it. It was German.

"I need some . . . documentation," Harry replied hesitantly, glancing nervously at the young woman standing next to the forger.

"Ah yes, yes. Where from?" Falschmann noticed Harry's gaze and smiled. "Do not worry about her; she knows the business I am in. In fact, let me introduce us. I am Heinrich Lehnsherr, master forger, and this is my daughter, Sabine. She does the books and is learning to take over the business."

"Pleased to meet you," Sabine smiled pleasantly.

"Thank you," Harry stammered in reply, surprised at the place and the people. "Harry Ashworth. I thought your, uh, your name was-"

Both forger and daughter laughed. "You did not think that Falschmann was my real name, did you not? No, that is just the nickname everyone calls me by. It is rather appropriate, if you know what it means in my native language."

"I'll get some tea, father," Sabine said and turned around. "Would you like sugar and cream, Mr. Ashworth?"

"Just some sugar, please," Harry replied. "And please, just call me Harry."

"Just sugar, then. The usual, father?" She waited for his nod and left, presumably for the kitchen.

"Why the surprised look, Harry?" Heinrich prodded with amusement at Harry's still shocked expression.

"It just . . . didn't expect, well . . . this," the young wizard said as he gestured around himself.

"Ah," Heinrich nodded sagely. "You did not expect a place like this in Knockturn Alley, yes?" He grinned. "Well, I do have a cover to keep. Not many find their way down to this place, so it is quite safe from the Ministry. I rather find the dark ambience of the other stores here depressing, and since I and Sabine live here, there is no reason not to make the place look nice, no?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Yeah. Good point."

Heinrich laughed. "Now, what brings you here? Documentation, you said, Bella sent you . . ." he noticed Harry's uneasy look, and was quick to calm him down. "Do not worry. I do not ask questions, merely what I need to know to create what you want. Now, what exactly is it that you need?"

"Australian documentation. Muggle passport, birth certificate . . . the magical equivalents, too. And an apparition license." Harry had decided that he would rather not take the risk of walking into the Ministry to take the apparition test. It would just raise questions about who he was, should someone get nosy. Besides, it would be much more believable if he had an Australian license, since he claimed to be from there, anyway.

"Ah, the entire personal identity set, then." He looked Harry over. "You look a bit young to be a fugitive, or to be starting a new life over."

"I thought you weren't going to ask questions?" Harry asked wryly.

"I'm not, I'm not," Heinrich grinned and shrugged. "But you cannot fault my curiosity. It is not every day that I get a customer as young as you." He eyed Harry suspiciously for a moment. "You can pay, of course?"

"What's your price?"

"For the complete package? Magical and Muggle documentation?" Heinrich stroked his moustache for a moment. "Plus an apparition license? Fifteen thousand."

Harry frowned. That was a ridiculous price to ask, even in the wizarding world. A quick glance at the older man told him that he knew that, as well. "I could buy someone else's identity for that. Seven thousand."

It was Heinrich's turn to frown. "I cannot even pay the bills with that. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to get you your apparition license alone? And Australia . . . that is so far away. I will need to call in a lot of favors. I cannot do it below twelve."

"That's a load of bull," Harry countered. "Bella told me you're the best she knows for the job," he bluffed, "but she also warned me about your tendency to charge outrageous sums. Eight thousand."

Heinrich shook his head. "I do not get many customers. And, as Bella has told you, I do the best work. You go to someone else and the Ministry will detect the forgery on first sight." He looked down at Harry sternly. "Twelve thousand is my last word."

Harry bristled, but thought the offer over. It was still a lot of money, but could he afford to go to someone else? Bellatrix had obviously recommended this man, but really, how many forgers did a young schoolgirl know, despite her family connections. He had a feeling he was being tested. If I'm wrong, though . . . he didn't want to think about it. Squaring his shoulders, he looked up and pasted on his best poker face. "And what guarantee do I have that you are the best? For all I know, your work could be shoddy, as well."

"Ah, but I come with Bella's recommendation, do I not?" Heinrich waggled his finger in delight.

"Which means absolutely nothing to me," Harry retorted. "I don't trust her, and frankly, I don't trust you. Ten thousand. Or I'll take my chances."

Heinrich was silent for a long moment, a serious look on his face. Harry stared him down, but internally, he was quivering, hoping that he hadn't just blown it. He needed those documents, and he needed them soon, or he was going to get into trouble. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that he could get away without having to show some sort of ID or documentation at some point.

"Father," Sabine called out from the door to the kitchen, a reproaching tone in her voice. "Are you harassing our customers again?" She came through with a tray laden with three cups and a kettle. Depositing it on the counter between her father and Harry, she frowned at him and shook her head. "You know how much it scares the customers when you do that. And one so young!"

"All right, all right, Sabine, Schatz." Her father looked up and chuckled at Harry's confused expression.

"I apologize for father's behavior, Harry," Sabine said as she leaned over, placing a cup in front of Harry. "He likes to play games like these sometimes, just to see how serious his customers are. He calls it testing your character, but I figure he just likes to tease people."

"That's . . . uhh . . ." Harry stared back and forth between the master forger and his daughter, unable to find the right words.

Heinrich finally laughed as he drank his tea, not sipping it slowly like the British usually did, but taking large gulps of the liquid as he smiled heartily. "Do not worry, Harry. Ten thousand galleons is fine. How quickly do you need the documents?"

"Well . . . as soon as you can get them done, I suppose." Harry shrugged. "I don't know when exactly I'll need them, but I'd rather have them sooner rather than later."

Heinrich nodded thoughtfully. "The Muggle documents will be easy enough, but the wizard ones . . . I need to send a message to a friend of mine in Australia. Especially the apparition license might take some time. The Ministry is very thorough in checking and registering those."

"Father, could we not use the one you have prepared for the client that never came?" Sabine glanced up from her own cup of tea. "You remember, last year, when this strange man ordered a fake apparition license from Belgium, but he never came to pick it up. The document is already drawn up, except for the name, and all it needs is the official seal."

"True. The details are a bit different, but it can work. Let me go find it." Heinrich got up and left, leaving Harry in the company of his daughter. Sabine smiled and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"So, we're going to need some details for the documentation you wanted. Let's start with the birth certificate . . . name and date of birth?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Harry Evans Ashworth. Born December 15th, nineteen-fifty-five."

Sabine dutifully noted everything down. "That would make you twenty." She glanced up. "You're my age," she added with a small smile.

Harry shrugged. It was his real age, but it didn't really bother him giving that away. "Born in . . . Port Augusta, Australia." It was the best he could come up with, and he mentally thanked Mrs. Graham, his third grade geography teacher—and Dudley's dislike for textbooks.

"All right . . . moving on to your passport. Married? Single? Divorced?"

"Single."

Sabine nodded as she wrote it down. "Place of residence?"

Harry had to think about that for a moment. He didn't want to imply that he had lived in Australia all his life, and he had to explain his British accent somehow. Finally, he settled on one explanation. "As of nineteen-seventy-two, 201 West Lakeside Road, Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America."

Sabine arched a curious eyebrow. "A well-traveled young man, I see," she commented lightly.

"As it were," Harry shrugged. "What else did you need?"

"A list of countries and the dates that you were there. So we can fill up the passport appropriately."

"All right . . . Napier, New Zealand, September 3rd, nineteen-fifty-six, left December 19th, same year," Harry began to invent, mentally making a note to study his passport later on and invent places of residence for each of the foreign excursions. "Then . . . Osaka, Japan, February 4th, nineteen-sixty-one, through June 22nd, nineteen-sixty-two. Hamburg, Germany, August 6th, nineteen-sixty-two through October 2nd, nineteen-sixty-three."

And the list continued as Harry's imagination filled it with the travels of his fake parents and himself. Croatia, Greece, Italy, even Russia followed the initial entries, eventually stopping in the United States, but he always took care to avoid being somewhere close to the British Isles. When he was done, Sabine looked up from the half-dozen entries she'd made, and grinned. "That's one hell of an elaborate history you have there, Harry."

"Yeah . . . I surprise myself, sometimes," he chuckled. It would be hell to memorize all that, but at least now he could claim as an excuse that he'd traveled a lot. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"Well . . . there are your official school records and the equivalent of the OWLs and such. Graduation records, too."

Harry groaned. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"

"Would you like more tea?" Sabine smiled.

"Please tell me that's it?"

She shook her head, her long red tresses flying around her. "Nope. Then we have to take care of your medical history. Establish your places of residence, and . . ."

He smiled wryly. "You're very thorough, aren't you?"

"We're the best," she replied with pride. "But if you'd like some help in making up your history, I'm told I have an excellent imagination," she told him with a sly grin.

Harry thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "What the heck, it can't hurt. So, what do you recommend for school records? You're the expert, after all."

"Well . . . you don't want to be a straight-A student, that usually sends up red flags," she started . . .

Four hours later, Harry drained the last of his tea from his cup. Between him and Sabine, they had managed to come up with a basic history for him that would satisfy most inquiries. Her father had come back briefly, to pick up her notes so he could start working on the documents for which they had complete information.

He now had a history of being a moderate student – mainly attributed to his constant moving as a child, along with his family – established which schools he'd gone to, a brief medical history in which he'd managed to cram all of his actual ailments and injuries, not to mention his allergies, and eyeglass prescription. Sabine had advised that he could consider eye surgery, or the magical equivalent, if he wanted to lose the glasses. He considered it and filed it away for future reference.

"That's it, I think," Sabine announced as she laid down her pen. Strewn about her in what looked like utter chaos to Harry, but was somehow completely discernible to her, were forty pages filled with notes on the history they'd established so far.

"Good," Harry muttered. "I think I'm starting to confuse myself."

"Well, that should be about all we need." Sabine rose and began clearing the empty teacups.

"Good, it's getting late." Harry glanced out the window, and then realized that it was always dark in Knockturn Alley. "I should get going. When do you think you'll have the papers done?"

Sabine hummed in thought. "The Muggle papers, probably in two days. The wizarding papers, with exception of the apparition license, a week, maybe nine days. The license we'll probably have in two weeks, earliest." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, but like father said, those are really hard to forge, and they need to be actually registered with the Ministry. That takes time and work."

"All right." He could live with that. "So, uh, how do I pay?"

"You pay when you pick up the documents." Sabine giggled at his slightly embarrassed expression. "Don't worry about it too much."

"All right." Harry stood, straightening down his robes. "By the way, I'm curious . . . why do you and your father dress like Muggles?"

Sabine giggled and twirled around. "We both work in the Muggle world, too. And frankly, it's rather comfortable. You like?"

Harry stared for a moment, then shrugged and blushed. "It looks nice."

"Thank you."

"Well, I guess I'd better get going. Is it all right if I come back in a week?"

Sabine shook her head. "If you're completely without papers, you better come back the day after tomorrow. Just in case you'll need some form of ID."

"All right." Harry was about to turn to leave when she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "It was nice to meet you, Harry Ashworth, or whoever you are," she smiled at him shyly. "And a pleasure doing business with you."

"Thanks, you, too," he said and quickly walked out before she could embarrass him anymore. A few seconds later, he stood outside the building, with the strange smell still coming from the back of the house, and started up the dark streets of Knockturn Alley.

"Time to get back to my room, I guess," he muttered as he set off.

4. Moody Young Men

As/N: We thank you for your reviews- they really spur us on. We do examine your reviews closely, and I can say that some of your reviews have influenced this chapter specifically.

Chapter Three

By:

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

It was three days later, on Christmas Eve that Harry returned to the dingy little building in a back corner of Knockturn Alley. He had those three days making half-hearted inquiries about job openings near Diagon Alley, but he had quickly found that without proper documentation, the only people that would hire him were those on the wrong side of the law. He wasn't prepared to get himself involved with that sort of thing, so he'd resigned himself to learning everything about the time period he was in. Sitting in the Leaky Cauldron and listening to the people chattering around him, picking up whatever newspapers he could find, and asking the occasional question—all without seeming suspiciously ignorant of current events had been a harder task that he would have thought possible.

Sabine had mentioned that she and her father worked in the Muggle world, so he had decided to come after what would be the end of the business day for most Muggles. When he stepped through the front door, he was pleased to find the young woman behind the counter of her father's business reading a newspaper. When she heard the door open, she jumped, looked over, and smiled brightly when she recognized him.

"Harry!" she greeted him cheerfully. "You're a day late!"

He shrugged. "I decided to give it an extra day, just in case."

"Well," she said, putting the newspaper away and standing up, "you'll be glad to know that we've gotten everything done a bit quicker than we thought. We've got a full set of Muggle and magical documentation, the whole package minus the apparition license. It's drawn up, but it still needs to be registered with the Ministry, so we hope it'll be done and active by as soon as next week."

"That's great," Harry replied with a smile. He was surprised that everything had come so easily; he had thought that black market transactions such as this would have involved a great deal more tension. Perhaps it was his inexperience combined with the inviting and charming personality of the forgers that put him at ease. Glancing at Sabine as she reached up to one of the shelves set on the back wall of the room, he figured that was probably it. They were nice enough, not at all what he had expected. He desperately tried to ignore it when he noticed the way her skirt rode up as she stretched to reach the top shelf, exposing her shapely legs.

He had barely managed to compose himself again, mentally berating himself for acting like a hormonal teenager, when she turned around and placed a thick envelope on the table. She noticed that he was slightly flushed, and giggled, batting her eyes at him flirtatiously. The giggling increased when he blushed more.

This is ridiculous, Harry thought to himself as he smiled back sheepishly. It's as if I'd never seen a pretty girl before. The irony was, he hadn't, at least not one that looked as good as Sabine did, and wasn't afraid to show it. Most wizards and witches wore loose, flowing robes that very effectively hid any trace of their figures underneath. The Muggle clothing Sabine seemed to enjoy wearing was the exact opposite, accentuating her petite form and hugging all the right curves. And try as he might, he wasn't that far off from being a teenager.

She correctly divined the thoughts going through his mind and placed a calming hand on his arm. "Don't worry about it," she said gently. "I get stared at a lot, it's no big deal."

"It's not that, I just . . ." Harry flustered and pulled his arm back. "Sorry, I'm not usually like this," he told her wryly.

"Oh!" she glanced down at herself. "I should've realized that you probably haven't seen this style of clothing before. It's a bit more provocative than robes, isn't it?"

Harry opened his mouth and was about to correct her when he realized that it would probably be best to say nothing. The less people knew about his true origins, the better, even if she was likely to never make the connection between his Muggle upbringing and his being from the future.

Oh, I've seen things like that before, he thought to himself. But damn, Aunt Petunia had never looked that good in a skirt and blouse. He chuckled to himself as he realized he was acting childish, but then again, he'd never actually had the opportunity to, before. He'd never been able to do all the things people his age did – go out at night, flirt with girls, have girls flirt with him, go dancing with his girlfriend . . . he'd missed out on all of that because of the war. He felt a brief sense of sadness at that, but pushed it back down, along with his physical attraction to the beautiful daughter of the master forger. Now was neither the time nor the place for this.

"It's fine," he finally said with a small shrug. "You're right, it's a bit unusual . . . but it looks good on you."

"Thanks," she blushed and giggled. Finally, she slid over the envelope. "Here's the documentation. Feel free to look through it and check if everything is there and to your satisfaction."

"All right," Harry said, glad for the distraction. He opened the folder and began thumbing through the accumulated life of one Harry Evans Ashworth, born in December, 1955. He had initially been concerned that he wouldn't get his money's worth, but one look at the thick stack of papers told him that that particular fear had been unfounded.

The documents and background seemed real enough that, after a few minutes of skimming through the papers, even Harry began to believe that Harry E. Ashworth existed. Everything was there, all of it down to his precise specifications, all the details of his alleged travels, his complete medical history, schooling records, correspondence addressed . . . everything he had made up with Sabine the other day, with details filled in that he hadn't even thought of but that made the whole thing even more believable.

"Look good?" Sabine sidled up to Harry with a proud smile.

It took a moment for him to find his voice at the elaborate documentation before him that spelled out the life of a man who had never existed, but had proof so real that he might as well had. "Yeah. It's – it's great," he finally said. "You and your father do good work."

"Thank you," she grinned.

Harry reached into his robes and withdrew a shrunken bag of galleons. A quick whispered word and wave of his wand returned it to its original size. "I have no idea how to complete this kind of transaction," he began slowly. "Would it be acceptable if I paid you eight thousand now and the remainder when I pick up the license?"

"That's perfectly all right," Sabine agreed.

Harry nodded gratefully. He hadn't yet returned to the Black vault, and he had no intention to. For one, he had no key, and secondly, the goblins probably kept a record of who accessed each vault. It wouldn't do to arouse suspicion by having a stranger walk into the vault of one of the most well-known and feared pureblood families around. This combined with his lack of a wage and steep price of a new identity meant that his funds were dwindling quickly. He waved his wand and floated eight thousand galleons out of the bag, then shrunk it back and tucked it into his pocket again.

They exchanged a pleasant farewell, with Harry asking her to give her father his regards and thanks for a job brilliantly done. Before he headed out the door, she leaned over. Thinking she was going to kiss him on the cheek again, Harry started to lean back, only to find her whispering into his ear.

"If you'd ever like to go out for dinner, you know where to find me," she muttered softly, before pulling back and pushing him through the door with a playful wink.

Harry stood in front of the closed door, his jaw agape and thoughts awhirl for a few moments. Well, a mental voice that sounded too much like Fred and George for his liking finally said, looks like little Harry got hit on for the first time! Let's celebrate! He groaned and tried to silence that gleeful little voice, but was only partially successful as he made his way out of Knockturn Alley, muttering about annoying twins being a bad influence on him all the way.

Then there was the other problem that had been nagging at him for the past few days. He hadn't yet run into Bellatrix again, something he was inordinately glad for, because "having mixed feelings" about her didn't even begin to describe the issues he had with that woman. Sure, she was, what, close to seventeen in this time, and nowhere near as twisted as she had been when he had first met her, but she was still the same person. The person who would grow up to become the most feared witch of the decade, the woman who would kill and torture countless people. The woman who would torture Neville's parents into a vegetative state, the person who would duel his godfather and eventually cause his death.

The person who had laid, broken and forced back into sanity by the pain in the same cell as him. The same person who had asked him to kill her. The woman who had bled to death in his arms. Try as he might, he couldn't shake that image from his mind. He could still feel the sticky blood soaking his hands, could still smell the faint scent of copper as it soaked his tattered robes, could still see the peaceful expression on her face as she died. And that was part of what was bothering him. She had looked at peace as she died, something he hadn't thought possible of her, something he hadn't believed she had deserved, not after all she had done.

He had wanted her dead for a long time – probably ever since he heard about what she had done to the Longbottoms. Sirius's death had only compounded to that desire, and each of their meetings on the battlefield had become progressively more intense and savage as they threw everything they had at each other, losing themselves in the fight, forgetting everything around them until all that was left was the other . . . and the burning desire to see her dead. He had finally gotten his wish, and he had tried telling himself that it was merely the manner of her death that had him disconcerted, but after three days of migraines pondering the subject, he had come to the realization that the way she had died was only a small part of it.

It was the peace, the release she had found in death that vexed him. He couldn't understand it, couldn't fathom how she could have found that, least of all while in Voldemort's dungeon. He had just gotten used to one side of her – the cruel, ruthless Bellatrix who crushed everything in her way in a withering barrage of cruelty and bloodshed. Then she had done an about-face, and suddenly decided to turn sane. And young. And despite all that she would, or, rather, could, become in the future, she wasn't yet. Harry found it hard to reconcile the annoying, irreverent, but, most importantly, sane, Bellatrix he had found during her few lucid moments in Voldemort's basement and here in the past with the crazed, bloodthirsty witch he knew so well in the future.

He wanted so much to hate her, for who she was, who she would become, but found, much to his irritation, that he couldn't. It would make everything so much easier if she were crazy and evil now. But she wasn't, at least not completely, and try as he might, he couldn't find a way to equate her with the witch he knew she would become. There were traits they shared, sure, but it was nearly impossible to believe that it was the same person. Even physically there were differences. The Bellatrix he knew was gaunt and thin, her body was scarred and weathered from malnutrition, years in Azkaban and on the run, and decades of black magic. This Bellatrix was young, and vibrant, and witty, and beautiful.

Harry gritted his teeth and banished that thought from his head. Her physical beauty would do nothing to mar the ugliness of her soul. She was evil, he tried to remind himself, but that quickly turned into she will become evil. He didn't want to affiliate himself with her, didn't even want to be in the same city as her, though that was unavoidable at the moment, but with a sickening feeling, he realized that as much as he disliked her, he could not hate her for something she hadn't become yet. The dichotomy of who she was and who she would become, or rather, who she had been, and who she was now was driving him crazy.

He was still muttering to himself about it and trying to figure it out when the building next to him exploded in a huge fireball that threw him through the air. He groaned and shook his head as he struggled to regain his equilibrium, his ears still ringing from the explosion, and his back aching from where he had hit a brick wall.

This is becoming way too familiar for my liking, he thought darkly as he glanced around. He had almost completely lost track of where he had been going, letting his feet wander as his thoughts drifted to Bellatrix. It took a moment for him to recognize where he was – close to the Ministry of Magic complex, on the other end of Diagon alley. He was wondering what had caused the building across the street to blow up when a very familiar sound reached his ears: spellfire. On instinct, he dropped down into a crouch and drew his wand, scanning the street for the source of the noise.

The noise of fighting was coming from across the street, near the side of the burning building, he finally realized as he barely made out flashes of red and green as wizards and witches dueled. I didn't think Voldemort had organized the Death Eaters yet, Harry thought as he focused on where the flashes of red and green were coming from. Getting a fix on who was fighting who was difficult because of the shadows cast by the nearby buildings and flames, as well as the panicked bystanders who were screaming, fleeing, and hiding from the firefight. What concerned Harry the most was that both parties involved seemed to be using illegal spells – he could swear he caught the distinctive green light of the killing curse a few times as he watched.

Who the heck are these guys? Harry wondered as he crept closer, careful to keep some sort of cover between him and the fighting. He jerked to an abrupt halt when another brilliant fireball erupted from the location of the two warring parties, but this time the aftermath was suffused with screams of the injured. He shook his head warily. Whoever was fighting was secondary, right now they needed to be stopped before they hurt any of the innocents that were frantically trying to get away from the fighting. He didn't know if the aurors of this time were just as slow as the ones in his – he hoped not, but he couldn't take the risk and wait for them to arrive.

As he debated on whether to interfere, the firefight escalated as both sides begun using spells of increasing destructiveness. Fireballs and killing curses gave way to sprays of acid and venom, only to be replaced by lightning storms and deadly pressure waves. Harry had seen some of those spells before, used on the battlefields of his time, and he knew the results, and they weren't pretty. He had inched his way close enough to be able to vaguely make out the forms of the combatants. Who are the good guys? he mused as he watched the devastation unfolding. Either way, I can't let this keep going. If they take any longer, they'll start blowing the entire bloody street to pieces!

Leaning out of his cover, Harry fired a series of stunners at both parties. He didn't want to use any of the more dangerous spells he knew yet, there was no reason to if he could just knock them all out. He realized he'd made a mistake, though, when both parties noticed that someone was shooting at them from the sidelines. Figuring that it was a sniper hired by the other side, both parties opened fire on his position, causing Harry to scramble back into cover as the concrete he was hiding behind shuddered from the spell impacts.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore. He began poking his head over his cover to take a look, but pulled it back just in time to avoid a series of nasty-looking hexes that flew overhead. The constant drumming of spells against his cover and the sounds of crumbling rock told him that he was well and truly pinned down – and that his makeshift cover wouldn't last forever. From the sounds of it, they wouldn't get tired of shooting at him anytime soon, either, and he figured that if they were smart, he could be expecting a flanking attack anytime . . . now.

"Stupefy!" he roared as he threw himself to the side. The blasting hex tore a fist-sized chunk of concrete out of the block he was hiding behind, but his return stunner caught the shooter square in the chest, causing him to crumple to the ground. Harry rolled to his feet, adrenaline pumping through him. His eyes darted across the road when he found himself out in the open. He hesitated for a brief second to note the location of the incoming fire, then made a mad dash for the nearest available cover, throwing himself behind a set of wooden barrels that contained something he didn't want to identify. He rolled to the side as the barrels begun exploding under a withering barrage of fire.

"All right, you want war, you've got it," he muttered to himself as he reached the last barrel. Hoping that whoever was shooting at him was still where he remembered them to be at, he silently counted down as his cover was reduced to rubble. Just my luck that I get to pick a fight with two groups of people who stop shooting at each other, just so they can shoot at me, instead, he thought darkly.

The last barrel splintered as a Reducto hit it, and Harry threw himself into a forward roll, his wand flicking through the air as he went, firing back with a series of low-powered hexes and jinxes that would hopefully send the opposition scurrying for cover themselves, and buy him some breathing space. He sprung back to his feet, sweeping his wand wide to raise a wall of flame between him and the people shooting at him, and then dashed to the side as it obscured their view of him.

Remembering his lessons in tactics that Moody had insisted on drilling into him, Harry made his way around until he was almost behind one of the groups, covered by the smoke and flames of the fire he'd just conjured. Anyone stupid enough to exchange spells with a large group of hostiles, the old auror had taught him, was just asking to be killed. The trick was to outflank them, use superior mobility so that they couldn't use their numbers to their advantage, and then take them all out with one heck of a spell. That was what they had trained Harry in, for the war.

During the short-lived war with Voldemort in his time, there hadn't been enough time to run him through the extensive training regimen that would make him a fully qualified auror, and the skill and experience of an expert duelist he would only acquire with time, something they were sorely lacking at that point, so both Dumbledore and Moody had agreed that it would be best to take advantage of his innate talent and raw magical power to get him through battles. Since he was a prime target for Voldemort's forces, he had been mostly kept in reserve, only to be brought out for the really big battles that could not be avoided, or for missions where he was the only one available.

Because they were pressed for time, Harry had been forced to focus his studies on a select few spells that took advantage of his above-average magical power, most of which were heavy hitters that were sure to put an opponent down for good. Since he was often deployed in mass battles, it had been prudent, and advantageous, for him to learn spells that were capable of taking out multiple opponents, or target large areas, since he was one of the few wizards who had the power to pull of those sorts of spells. That lack of variety usually didn't bother him, since he really didn't see the difference in using a fireball or a flame arrow, or a spray of acid compared to a disintegration curse. On the battlefield where chaos reigned, he was more than capable of holding his own.

It was somewhat of a handicap in duels, though, where his opponents could focus on barraging him with a much wider variety of spells that forced him on the defensive. He had usually relied on his raw talent and magical power to pull him through those instances, something that worked quite well when dealing with the average Death Eater who thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was an easy prey. It did, however, fail when faced with vastly more experienced opponents like Dumbledore or Moody. While Dumbledore had a leg up on Harry in terms of power still, it was the headmaster's experience that allowed him to repeatedly defeat Harry in their practice duels, despite the fact that he favored transfiguration spells. Bellatrix was another opponent he had trouble fighting regularly, mainly because she was so insane that her fighting style was near unpredictable, and she was able to shrug off debilitating blows without even having to try, something he attributed to her long exposure to pain curses.

Harry smirked as the smoke cleared with a wave of his wand, and he found himself staring at the exposed backs of one group of hostiles, while the other was looking at the place where, seconds ago, a raging fire had blistered in the air. He raised his wand, putting much more force behind the spell than it was designed for. "Pulsus!"

The overpowered banishing hex blasted into the combatants closest to him first, tossing them though the air, and into the second group of fighters. He had been careful enough to tone down the power to something that would cause bruises, but wouldn't kill them – he had found out early on that even the simplest spells could be lethal, if one put enough force behind them. He raised his wand as the majority of the people tried to scramble to their feet, but the distinct pop of multiple apparitions prevented that as the aurors arrived. He quickly sheathed his wand, stepped back, and made sure to keep his hands clearly visible.

Those who hadn't managed to make it back to their feet were roughly hauled up by the aurors as all of them were rounded up by the Ministry's forces. It took them a few seconds to realize the precarious position they were now in, but one by one, wands clattered to the floor and hands raised into the air.

Good thing I picked up my documentation, Harry thought in quiet amusement at the visibly upset visage of the people that were now being placed under arrest. The aurors, quickly supported by Ministry officials, soon got around to questioning the few bystanders that were left, and Harry groaned as he watched a number of them chatter rapidly and gesture towards him when asked by the aurors. I should've left when I had the chance, he groaned mentally. Attention from the Ministry was something he really didn't need right now.

A half-dozen aurors turned around and approached Harry, their wands drawn and aimed at his chest. He smiled cheerfully and raised his hands in surrender. Leading them, much to Harry's chagrin, was someone he had hoped to avoid for the time being. Twenty-five years younger, with his right leg still intact, a little less grizzled, and without a magical eye, the man leading the squad approaching Harry was still unmistakable: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

He took a moment to give Harry a quick once-over, and then turned to the aurors following him. "Go help the others with those idiots in the mud over there," Moody growled. He waited a moment until they had left, then took a few steps towards Harry, eyeing him very, very carefully.

Harry knew that he was being evaluated as a potential opponent by the man who would become his teacher in the future. Knowing that he needed to appear as non-threatening and uninteresting as possible, he decided to let the auror take the lead. No point in attracting unwarranted attention now.

"What's your name?" Moody finally asked.

"Ashworth. Harry Ashworth," Harry replied neutrally.

Moody glanced up sharply, and Harry had to fight down the urge to flinch away from that piercing gaze. "You're the one who took down all of those . . . people . . . back there?" he asked with unmistakable disdain for the combatants, who were in the process of being rounded up and transported to Ministry holding cells.

Harry took a moment to study the people who'd been fighting before responding. None of them appeared to be Death Eaters – they lacked the distinctive masks and black robes, for one. In fact, they didn't even appear to be any sort of trained fighting force. Instead, they were young and Harry guessed, barely out of school. Probably the restless sort that was convinced of their own superiority, spoiled, or dissatisfied with current affairs. The sort Voldemort never had any trouble recruiting, he mused. Those who haven't found a place in society, and blame it on others.

With some surprise he realized that Bellatrix might actually fit into that category, which was ironic. For some reason, he couldn't quite picture her in the same group as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. And there was no denying that these...goons? Hooligans? Whatever they were, Malfoy and his posse would have fit right in with them. Well, Harry thought with quiet amusement, Malfoy is probably a little better dressed that them.

Was this what Bellatrix had meant when she had said with her dying breath that she had just "gone with the flow?" Could Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode have become the next Bellatrix Lestrange? It seemed so unlikely. For starters, while he hated the Bellatrix of his time, he quite readily acknowledged her skill, talent, and power, all of which took time and effort to cultivate. He couldn't see the Slytherins of his time as willing to put in enough time and effort to become that skilled.

No, while Bellatrix may have fit in with those misfits currently being arrested from an ideological point of view, she certainly wouldn't have been part of these kinds of groups. For one, they were dressed atrociously, and looked – and smelled, now that he thought about it, and he was several dozen feet away! – like they desperately needed a bath. No, Bellatrix and her sort would probably have fit in with a more sophisticated group which comprised the more intelligent of the dissidents.

Harry returned his attention to Moody, a bit embarrassed when the auror had to clear his throat loudly to get his attention. "Sorry," he muttered, which the older man rewarded with a nonchalant shrug. "I wouldn't exactly say that I took them down. I just happened to be in the right place when I cast a banishing charm. I guess I got lucky that I caught that many, but I couldn't let them keep going. They'd probably still be fighting if you hadn't shown up."

Moody nodded quietly, and Harry could almost see the man thinking over all the possible holes and flaws in his explanation. He wasn't aware he had been holding his breath until he released it sharply when Moody nodded. "You got identification on you, son?" Moody finally asked, more pleasantly than Harry would have expected.

"Of course." Harry reached inside his robes, glad to find his passport quickly. He didn't want to have to pull out the entire envelope and have to explain why he just happened to be carrying his entire life history's worth of documentation around with him. He handed the Muggle passport to Moody.

The auror browsed the pages for a few moments with a crooked smile. "Muggle passport?"

"It's pretty convenient, especially since I sometimes decide to wander out there." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure I can find some wizarding ID, if you'd like me to."

"That's all right, son. You like travelling the Muggle way, eh?"

"I like seeing the world," Harry replied noncommittally.

"Good for you. You travel a lot, eh? Born in Australia, and most recently from the States. And lots of stops in between."

"Yeah." Harry chose not to elaborate, deciding that he couldn't tell a lie if he just kept quiet.

"Guess that explains your lack of a distinct Aussie accent," Moody grumbled to himself. "Parents move you around a lot? You must've been pretty young on a lot of these moves."

Harry merely shrugged and nodded, deciding not to make up anything about his imaginary parents unless the auror asked. If Moody jumped to his own conclusions and figured he didn't need to ask, Harry saw no reason to elaborate.

After a little while, Moody finally handed the passport back. "The witnesses we've talked to seem to agree that you're not one of the people who started the trouble, Ashworth." Moody looked him up and down with a lopsided grin that looped positively creepy on his face. "Though I could have told that just from looking at you. We're not going to charge you with anything. Generally, I would say that you were a fool to even try to take on that many people, but they," he waved vaguely in the direction where aurors were still taking statements, "agree that you probably did save a lot of people from getting injured, and you seemed to have no problem handling yourself."

Harry took the passport back, relieved that the forged document had passed muster. "Thank you."

"Try not to make a habit of it. Constant vigilance, son."

"No problem," Harry said. "I didn't exactly want to start a fight with anyone. I don't even know what those folks were fighting about, in the first place."

Moody rolled his eyes. "It's purebloods. They're dissatisfied with life, the Ministry, each other, so they take it out on whoever they run into at the time. I wish that it was only the young ones doing this, but things are getting tense even among the family heads in the Wizengamot." The auror's tone told Harry all he needed to know about what Moody thought about those sorts of politics.

"I see." Harry hoped that Moody would keep talking and reveal more. He had tried to find out more in the news about what had facilitated Voldemort's rapid rise to power, and wished he had asked about it more in his time. Dumbledore had mentioned that it had involved a lot of sudden and unexplained deaths and disappearances, but so far, Harry hadn't heard anything even remotely like it in the current news.

"This incident is going to cause trouble," Moody grumbled, more to himself than to Harry. At the young man's curious look, he nodded his head over to the damaged building. "That's owned by old man Belby, he's related to Bagnold, and they're both going to be having wild ideas about who hired those amateurs to do this, even if they just happen to be a bunch of idiots who randomly picked this place to start a fight."

"Ah. Seems odd to me, though, that there were that many fighting back," Harry commented, trying to prod for more information.

Moody nodded. "True. Like I said, tensions are running high, and as much as I hate to admit it, neither side is playing entirely fair. I'm guessing Belby hired his own goons, just in case."

Harry decided not to ask about the Unforgivables. He was convinced he had seen them used, and dearly wished he'd paid more attention to the background of them when it was taught in DADA, since he knew they'd been regularly taught up to when the ban on the Unforgivables was put into effect, but he couldn't remember when that was.

"Well," Moody clapped his hands, apparently remembering that he did have a job to do, "you'd best be on your way. You planning to be in town for the next few days?"

The question caught Harry by surprise. "Yeah. Why?"

Moody gestured over to where the last of the group was being transported away. "Just in case those nitwits try to argue that they weren't caught red-handed and seen by a dozen witnesses. We might need the additional testimony at their hearing."

Harry glanced over at the people he'd knocked around. They didn't look particularly friendly or intelligent, but they didn't need to be to shoot him intense glares the likes of which he'd come to expect from the Death Eaters he knew in the future. It almost made him shudder that even before Voldemort's rise there were people like that in the world. It had become almost too easy to blame the dark lord for all that was wrong with the wizarding world, and it took quite a bit of effort to remind himself that Voldemort hadn't caused the evil, he had compounded it.

"I'll be around. Owl me if you need me. I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the moment until I find a job, so Tom should know where to find me." Harry wasn't sure how exactly it was that owls found people by name, and hoped that there wouldn't be a problem with his assumed name. Even so, he could always claim some magical problem or another, which was why he'd let Moody know to ask Tom, just in case. He resolved to find out about the owling matter, and hoped that if there was a problem, it'd be a reasonably easy fix. With a muttered nod of acknowledgement, Moody shook his hand and turned away.

~!~!~!~!

That evening found Moody and Dumbledore sharing dinner at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. They had known each other for years and met often. It was the auror's frank personality and disregard for money, wealth, and fame that Dumbledore admired in him. They usually had dinner together at least once every other week, just to keep in touch and to exchange news on their respective fronts.

Ever since the rise of Grindelwald, Dumbledore liked to keep an eye on what was happening in law enforcement, and Moody heard – and saw – much more than the average auror. How he did that, even Dumbledore didn't know. Generally, their conversation involved light topics, though, as of late, they had been speaking of progressively more serious matters.

"I hear there was another heated debate in the Wizengamot," Moody commented, sipping his ale. "What are those old crooks arguing about this time?"

"The same," Dumbledore sighed in resignation. "The influx of Muggleborn witches and wizards into our society isn't sitting well with certain people. They believe that magic should belong to the purebloods, that anyone who is descended from Muggles is somehow inferior to them."

"It doesn't help that our laws were written by idiots," Moody snorted.

"They are antiquated," the headmaster admitted. "But reform is slow in coming, and even if there were anyone willing to start it, traditionalists still hold much of the power in the council. I don't think any reforms would pass right now."

"Figures."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "It's been getting steadily worse for years now; I think it's because of the realization that a lot of Grindelwald's supporters were Muggleborn."

"No surprise there, considering how much freedom he promised them, and how much the purebloods did to suppress their entry into our world." Moody frowned. "It's pretty stupid."

"I won't argue with you there," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but there are many who believe that it is our birthright to wield magic, and that it should reside solely with the old families."

"And they're the ones spewing all that propaganda against Muggleborns."

"Right. They're playing on everyone's fears . . . we're slowly dying out, simply because the families are getting smaller. The old families are suffering from inbreeding, and with each year, there are more Muggleborn. People are afraid that eventually, they are going to be supplanted."

"That didn't work too well thirty years ago, now, did it?" Moody growled.

"They went to a lot of extremes thirty years ago, passing laws that shouldn't have been passed. They rushed the process, causing a lot of hurt among the Muggleborn at the time," Dumbledore explained, "now . . . they're proceeding much more cautiously, but their goal is the same."

"Get rid of all the Muggleborn in our society." Moody chortled with mild amusement. "Like that is going to happen."

"I agree; it'd be very detrimental if we suddenly closed our world to all Muggleborn. They are now a significant portion of the wizarding population, and some of our brightest minds are Muggleborn."

"That can't sit too well with them purebloods."

Dumbledore nodded. "It doesn't. They still argue that Muggleborn are unsuited to be taught magic."

"Let me guess," the auror snorted in disgust, "they're still going with the blood superiority spiel?"

"To some extent. I think by now that's mostly become secondary, their real argument now is that opening our doors to Muggleborn is a risk to our society. Since they live in both worlds, they could very easily reveal our existence to the rest of the Muggle world. Or take what we teach them and leave. Some believe we shouldn't waste time and resources on training those who, in the end, will abandon our world."

"That's stupid."

"Not entirely unfounded, though. A lot of Muggleborn have chosen to return to their old life."

Moody shrugged. "That's entirely the wizarding world's fault. If they treat them like crap, what do they expect? I mean, that restriction on Muggleborn to Ministry jobs is a crock."

Dumbledore smiled briefly, amused at the auror's colorful language. "I quite agree. Unfortunately, the majority of the Wizengamot feels that Muggleborn are not yet ready to take over positions that are so vital to our government, our safekeeping, and our economy."

"Then there's the idiots saying that the Muggleborn are stealing our jobs," Moody smirked. "Now those are a bunch of idiots if I ever saw them. Arrested a lot of them today."

"I heard about the incident near Knockturn Alley. Was anyone hurt?"

"A few," Moody replied, unbothered by that fact. "Nothing too bad, at least nothing that needed St. Mungos for treatment. A dozen or so ruffians decided to torch old Belby's shop. Coincidentally, Belby had his own set of goons on hand to fight back. I'm thinking he may have been planning something similar, they just hit him before he could."

"So what's going to happen to them?"

"Probably going to get a slap on the wrist and fined. Rich kids, mostly, though if they're so rich, I can't tell why they can't just buy themselves clothes that actually fit." Moody wrinkled his nose. "Not to mention take a bath every once in a while. I'm sure you'll get an earful from Belby and his friends tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded as he processed that information. "Actually, I think they're pureblood children whose families are declining. A lot of the old families are slowly vanishing. The Cromwells are almost gone, I think, except for their daughter Lisbon. Most of them aren't doing that well anymore these days."

"That's what they get for frittering away their family fortunes without ever bothering to earn any of it back," Moody commented neutrally.

The headmaster of Hogwarts nodded in agreement. It was an unfortunate fact of life that those with money more often than not chose to frivolously spend it without regard for tomorrow. That rarely ended well, and most ended up with next to nothing. Sadly, these days, your name bought you nothing. Money, however, did. It had been the downfall of a lot of families, especially over the last hundred years or so. Many prominent old families had vanished into obscurity that way, enough that there was a growing fear among the remaining families that the same could happen to them.

"The usual going on, kids blaming the Muggleborn for all their misery and taking it out on those who support integrating Muggleborn into our world," Moody shrugged and took a bite of his dinner. "Excuse is flimsier than a Sarmanic peelskin, but they keep using it."

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily. "I know. It saddens me to see that they make that choice so soon after leaving school. I was hoping we had taught them something, at least." It had happened often enough in the past few years that they referred to these incidents as "the usual," though it wasn't something that Dumbledore was proud of. Young witches and wizards, especially those from families that had been struck hard by the downturn of the last decade, had a tendency to go out and blame whoever was available to them. It was a fault in their education, the headmaster surmised, probably the inborn arrogance of their former station – since this particular ailment seemed an all-too common occurrence among purebloods especially – and the arrogance born of their powers.

"You're teaching them. They're choosing not to listen. Not your problem."

"I wish it was that easy, old friend." The last decade especially had been hard on the wizarding world. In fact, it had started even before the rise of Grindelwald. World War II had taken a much larger toll on the wizarding population that anyone would have thought possible. For all their centuries of stealth, all their magic wards and notice-me-not spells that enabled them to hide a wizarding town in the heart of London, their relative isolation had been their undoing. They had been ignorant of the events in the Muggle world, had not cared of what they had developed, what advancements they had made, so long as they were left alone.

And then Nazi Germany had declared war, and begun bombing England. London had been hit hard, but so had the rest of the countryside. And for all their magical protections, nothing could have saved them from the hundreds of bombs that rained from the sky. Even though they were invisible to Muggle eyes, wizarding towns and villages were struck and decimated, and they had had no defense against it. London had taken the worst of the bombing, and consequently, so had Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and the government complex. Almost the entire wizarding government and infrastructure had collapsed within days. And the wizarding world had been completely unprepared for such an occurrence.

Muggle weapons didn't care who was underneath, didn't care that there were charms and wards. Their bombs dropped and exploded, simple devices that they were. Bullets fired into seemingly empty air passed through the wards and struck wizards cowering behind invisibility charms. And when the war had finally been about to close, Russian tanks had rolled over the countryside, decimating entire villages without ever seeing them.

Amidst that panic and chaos, the dark wizard Grindelwald had made his bid for power, rallying Muggleborn and pureblood supporters around him with the promise to rebuild a better wizarding world, one more tolerant to Muggleborn and squibs, and magical creatures that were being cruelly suppressed at the time. And that war had cost even more lives. In the aftermath of that, with their population decimated, the wizarding world had had a much harder time rebuilding its economy and society. The Muggle world had the advantage of technology. War advanced technology, which drove their economy to new heights after the war, but the wizarding world didn't have that. In contrast, the wizarding world's economy was rather weak.

And it showed in the aftermath of the war. Even now, thirty years later, their economy still had not fully recovered, while most Muggle countries had advanced leaps and bounds beyond their pre-war state. Since much of the wizarding world's economy was based on the gold reserves of the old families and what Muggles would call the "service" sector, there wasn't much that could improve the current state of affairs. War and decades of spending had left their marks on even the deepest coffers, and now, there was an entire generation faced with knowing that their families had once been held in the highest regard, had been the richest of the rich…and they, themselves, had nothing.

And that was only part of the problem. Before the war, there had been many purebloods. Most rural settlements were entirely comprised of pureblood families, even. The war had decimated them, cut the wizarding world's population almost in half. They were in desperate need of new people, to replenish those they had lost, which had led to a large sudden influx of Muggleborn into their society. A lot of the older families had taken offense to that, while others argued that it was either accept them, or die out. Despite that, there had been put in place a great many laws that restricted the freedom of Muggleborn witches and wizards. Some were placed there out of fear, some out of contempt. Whichever had been the cause, the damage was the same. Many Muggleborn decided to leave behind the shackles imposed on them by the wizarding world and return to their own.

That sudden exodus had left the wizarding world doubly crippled once again. The careful balance between coming and leaving had been precarious at best, and many of the older families had taken this as a sign that Muggleborn were unreliable and could not be trusted to become a stable part of their society, something they had passed on to their children. The sentiment had only grown ever since the end of the war.

"Something interesting, though," Moody commented, jerking Dumbledore from his thoughts.

"Was there?"

"Yeah." Moody coughed and gulped down his ale. "The fight was broken up by a stranger before it could get too bad."

Albus Dumbledore wasn't a man who believed in coincidence, and ventured to take a vague guess. "I don't suppose it was some young fellow by the name of Ashworth?"

Moody arched a curious eyebrow. "Indeed. I talked to him at the scene."

"And?"

The auror grumbled with a mixture of suspicion and humor. "He seems too innocent and casual to me."

"How so?"

Rolling his eyes, Moody tore a piece off the loaf of bread on his plate. "All the people who stuck around to watch the fight agreed that Ashworth demonstrated remarkable skill in dealing with not one, but both groups and then ultimately ending the fight. When I talked to Ashworth, he passed it off as nothing."

"And you have a problem with that?" Dumbledore smiled briefly at his friend's irritation.

"I don't care who these hooligans are, but anyone who can take on two dozen of them and come out standing and without a scratch is someone who's got more than just a little skill and luck."

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "So, what do you make of him?"

"If he's who he says he is, then he's a naïve idiot. If he isn't, then whoever taught him is good . . . damn good." Moody eyed the headmaster warily. "So, how do you know him?"

"I met him a few days ago," Dumbledore said vaguely. "I saw him in the company of Miss Black. She was about to get into a fight with young Mr. Potter when Mr. Ashworth – rather skillfully – disarmed both of them. He had some very interesting things to say about his opinions of the Hogwarts houses, but I think that's for another time."

"He said he's looking for a job."

"Yes, he did mention that to me. I thought it was rather odd that a young man such as he would wander to England without any firm plans."

"He's been almost bloody everywhere. Born in Australia, but his passport reads like a travel magazine. He's been to half a dozen countries at, mostly during his childhood."

"Restless parents, I suppose," Dumbledore mused, studying the wine goblet in his hands. "It certainly explains why he doesn't have any accent to speak of. And if he is so well travelled, perhaps his behavior isn't all that strange."

Moody snorted. "For some reason, he doesn't strike me as a rich kid getting his rocks off by travelling around."

"No?" the headmaster asked curiously. "What makes you think that?"

"Like I said, anyone who can take on a dozen people is someone I'd be looking out for. That takes more than just power or talent. It takes a grasp of tactics not many have these days. Also, he allegedly banished one entire group of them into the other group twenty yards away."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Do you think he's especially skilled at fighting?"

"I don't know," Moody answered thoughtfully. "He didn't exactly seem like a fighter, considering his borderline frail stature and build. On the other hand, there's his skill and experience, so I wouldn't want to make the mistake of underestimating him in a fight."

"I see."

There was a brief silence, which was eventually broken by the auror. "I have a theory."

"Oh?"

"We have a lot of tensions going on, between purebloods and Muggle-supporters. A lot of hostilities towards Muggleborn, too. And then there's always those crazy bastards who think we should take over the Muggle world," Moody began.

"Go on," Dumbledore encouraged, leaning forward in interest.

"Of late, we've had a lot of these disputes escalate into some serious vandalism and violence. Groups of untrained or unskilled thugs fighting each other. Then all of a sudden, this well travelled, smooth talking, and magically skilled wizard shows up in the middle of a fight. What do you make of that?"

"You're thinking the pureblood families are bringing in outside help?"

"The purebloods, the other side, whoever. He had to come from somewhere."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily and he smiled. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Ashworth is, in fact, a hired gun?"

"A hired what?"

"Never mind," Dumbledore said. "It's a Muggle thing. I think we'll just give Mr. Ashworth the benefit of the doubt for now."

"If you say so," Moody muttered, finishing his dinner.

They lingered together for a little while more before Moody called it a night, commenting that he had to be in the office at a fairly early hour the next morning to process all the people they had arrested earlier and arrange their hearings. As Moody opened the door to exit the pub after wrapping himself in his cloak, Dumbledore called after him.

"About Ashworth. Did you happen to see any Blacks nearby when you encountered him? Perhaps one of the people fighting?"

Moody gave Dumbledore a strange look. "No, I didn't see any Blacks anywhere, though there were folks who talk to the Blacks. You don't suppose the Blacks were involved in this, do you?" The auror clearly didn't believe the Blacks would involve themselves in that kind of action. They were still wealthy enough to be able to hire people to do that for them, and even if, they would have gone after a more high-profile target, and certainly with much more skill, grace, and stealth than two groups of younglings trading spells in a crowded street.

"No, no," Dumbledore answered quickly. "I was just wondering."

~!~!~!~~!

On Christmas morning, the day after his encounter with the pureblood delinquents and Alastor Moody, Harry was woken by someone persistently jabbing his chest.

"Wake up, Ashworth."

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, slowly blinking at the sudden brightness in his room. His good mood from a restful sleep suddenly evaporated when he realized who was staring down at him. Bellatrix Black, violet eyes framed by long dark hair, was straddling him on his bed and looking down at him. He didn't think she fully realized what she was doing, but quickly shook the cobwebs from his head.

He wondered which deities he had managed to offend in this – or a previous – life that would ultimately lead to him being woken up on a Christmas morning by Bellatrix. No one deserved that – not even the Dursleys. It was right up there at the top of his list of things-that-he-never-wanted-to-happen-to-him, right after being woken up by Crucio.

"Go away," he muttered, trying to turn around and bury his head under his pillow.

"I love you too," Bellatrix retorted with a mischievous grin as she pulled the pillow away and slid off the bed.

"Gimme that," he said, reaching out blindly for the pillow she was holding in her hands. He was glad she'd gotten off the bed right then, before she'd found something between her thighs that he didn't exactly want her to. Waking up with an – admittedly beautiful –seventeen year old girl in his bed wasn't something he'd ever gotten used to.

"Come get it, Ashworth!"

With an annoyed groan, Harry rolled onto his side and sat up, reaching over to the night stand for his glasses. "It's too early to deal with you."

"Why, I would think you don't enjoy my company!"

"I don't," Harry mumbled quietly. Out loud, he said, "How did you get into my room, anyway?"

She gestured towards the door. "You think locks like that can keep me out?" She almost looked insulted at the prospect that he might think that.

"Apparently I need to put up wards if I want any privacy from you."

"Ah-ah!" Bellatrix held up a finger. "Is that any way to speak to someone who's come to invite you to a party?"

"Wha-?"

Bellatrix stepped back, performed a small curtsy, and twirled around grandly. "You have been invited to a small family gathering this evening," she declared with a wide, dramatic sweep of her arms. At Harry's odd expression, she stemmed her fists into her hips and glared at him. "What?"

Harry suppressed a grin, though he wasn't entirely successful, and he was sure she could see the faint smile on his lips. He couldn't help himself. Bellatrix Black had just done something incredibly silly.

"What?" she repeated.

"Nothing, nothing." He waved her off. "What's this about a party?"

"A family gathering," she emphasized carefully.

"What's the difference?"

It took her a moment to think about that. Finally, she settled on, "I don't think there's as much getting drunk as there would be in a party."

"I see." He didn't, not really.

"It took surprisingly little effort on my part, especially thanks to the little stunt you managed to pull yesterday."

"What're you talking about?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know. How many groups of boneheads did you destroy yesterday?"

"I didn't 'destroy' anyone!" Harry groaned. If that was what the press had been reporting, then he could kiss his blessed anonymity bye-bye.

"Well, they sure talked like you did."

"They're out already?"

"Aha! So that was you!"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Please tell me I haven't made the front page of the Daily Prophet yet."

"You haven't made the front page of the Prophet yet."

"Good."

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, both of them resolved not to squirm despite the searing need to say something, anything to get rid of the silence. Harry sighed and shrugged. He hadn't wanted this much public exposure quite this soon, but it couldn't be helped. He wasn't about to back down and let a firefight get out of hand. Maybe it would even benefit him, if it had gotten him invited to a social gathering this quickly. And he could only imagine the sorts of people that associated themselves with the Blacks. It could potentially lead him straight to Voldemort.

Finally, Bellatrix spoke up, fed up with the silence. "So, did you pick up your documentation?"

"I have everything, except the license," Harry replied.

Bellatrix smirked. "So, how much did they rip you off for?"

Harry cringed. He felt like he'd done well, and the forgers had seemed like honest people, but under Bellatrix's inquisitive gaze, he wasn't quite so sure anymore. "Ten thousand."

Bellatrix involuntarily raised her eyebrows, displaying her increased respect for the strange time traveler. "Not bad, Ashworth."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. If she noticed, she didn't show.

"Well, the party's at No. 12, Grimmauld Place. Show up at seven for dinner – oh, and wear something nice. I'd hate for you to do something stupid or embarrassing," she said, pulling out her wand to apparate away.

"I'll be there."

Bellatrix nodded in approval, a glint in her eyes. "Good to see you're familiar with the location." She waved her wand and was gone, leaving Harry with the realization that he'd inadvertently revealed more than he'd wanted her to know. On the other hand, she already knew he was the Black family heir, so knowing the location of No. 12 Grimmauld Place was almost a given. Deciding not to think about it any further, since he couldn't take back his words, he showered and cleaned himself up for the day.

It was only when he walked down into the pub for breakfast, and caught sight of a copy of the Daily Prophet, that he screwed up his eyes and cursed her name.

"You lied!" he hissed at the ceiling. There, on the front page, was a moving image of yesterday's firefight. And he was right in the middle of it.

5. Almost Famous

As/N: Here we go—another chapter. Thank you for all your reviews, even the nasty ones. In response to those, I think a little housekeeping is in order. First—we're saying that Bellatrix's seventeenth birthday has occurred since 1 September 1975. (She may legally apparate and perform magic.) That being said, we have gone far beyond saying that Harry spent a number of years playing cops and robbers with the Death Eaters instead of killing Voldemort at the end of his seventh year as far as changing canon goes—we've had the audacity to change Bellatrix's birth year. It isn't 1951 anymore, though she is still older than the Marauders et al. Also, in response to a more polite reviewer, I'm affirming that we're ignoring the events of books six and seven, though we are still using horcruxes. And for you people who have taken potshots at us about Bellatrix spitting out Muggle phrases—have a little more faith. You might consider it a hint instead of labeling it as a mistake.

With that said, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter- we certainly enjoyed writing it.

Lord Silvere

Chapter 4

By:

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Harry spent most of the day trying to hide from Tom and the rest of his patrons. It appeared that everyone who frequented the Leaky Cauldron had read that morning's Prophet, and were able to recognize him. He briefly considered putting on a glamour charm to conceal his features, but decided against it. At least it wasn't nearly as bad as the Boy-Who-Lived hype he'd suffered through in his younger years. After eating a modest breakfast at the pub, Harry spent a few minutes debating whether to risk actually going outside.

It was only when he caught a group of girls pointing towards him as they chattered in excitement, holding up a copy of the Prophet, that he decided that braving the outside might be a good idea. The last thing he saw as the door to the pub swung closed behind him was the girls getting up from the table in an attempt to follow him. A last-minute decision turned Harry around and took him through the door to the Muggle part of London. Harry was glad that he had decided to just wear a simple pair of jeans and a shirt with his coat.

He stood outside in the frigid air for a moment, holding his breath and praying that the girls didn't follow him. They didn't, and he let out a sigh of relief. He hated fan girls. Zipping up his windbreaker and muttering a quick warming charm, he set off in no particular direction. He spent an uneventful day wandering around the streets, enjoying the way he could just blend into the Muggle environment. It was Christmas Day, and aside from a few straggling shoppers who were desperately trying to find Christmas gifts, or were trying to return them, the streets were deserted. It was snowing lightly, and the ground was coated with a fine sheen of white that crunched under his feet.

He didn't realize how much time had passed until the ringing of old Big Ben announced that it was late in the day. With a start, Harry looked up. The sun was already setting, which was no surprise this late in winter, even though the clock had just only chimed five in the afternoon. Harry quite easily found his way back toward the Leaky Cauldron. It was ironic that, as much as the wizarding world disliked having anything to do with the Muggle world, in the later days of the war, it had been their salvation. Safe houses in the Muggle world had been used to house government officials and high-ranking Order members in an attempt to protect them from assassination attempts. Voldemort's forces had initially been wary to venture out into the Muggle world. Their first few forays were met with vicious force. It was then that they quickly discovered that Muggle authorities were quicker to respond to disturbances than aurors.

It had rapidly become a bloodbath, and while a single dark wizard could very easily kill many Muggle policemen, Voldemort had quickly realized that he didn't want to. Now was not the time to attract the attention of the Muggle world. There were too many of them for him to wage a two-front war and come out victorious. It had forced the Death Eaters to come up with another means of locating and killing off their primary targets, which had given the Order precious time to keep relocating them. However, in the end, all it did was buy them time.

He stepped through the door of the Leaky Cauldron an hour later, quietly brushing the snow off his jacket. It was just the time between tea hour and the rush for supper, and Harry was glad that the pub was almost empty. It took only a few minutes for him to locate the dress robes that Bellatrix had insisted to buy, though it did take much longer to change. Sometimes he wondered if dress robes hadn't been invented by a sadist to torture poor wizards. It was only when he stood in front of the door, hand on the doorknob, that he realized he didn't really have any idea how to get to No. 12 Grimmauld Place the Muggle way. It had never really been an issue, since he had always either apparated, or flooed there.

"Can I help ye?" Tom called out from behind the bar.

Harry turned around and smiled sheepishly. "Mind if I use your floo?"

"Go right ahead, lad. Powder's up on the shelf next to the fireplace."

"Thanks." Harry nodded gratefully and went to the back of the room. "Tempus," he muttered, expecting to see the time displayed at the end of his wand. He yelped in surprise when, instead, the wand erupted in a shower of sparks and hissed angrily. When he tried again, the wand stubbornly decided to stay silent. "Great," Harry muttered. "Just great." Looks like I'll have to pay Ollivander a visit, after all. It wasn't like he had expected the wand to work for him indefinitely, but it sure would have been nice.

He dug into his robes and found his wristwatch. He was surprised and pleased to discover that he still had almost an hour before he was expected, and briefly wondered if Ollivander's was open right now. He didn't exactly want to bring attention to himself by getting a new wand, but going into the proverbial lion's den, a party attended by who knew how many pureblood families and potential dark wizards, without a means to defend himself, didn't sit well with him, either. Maybe it was for the better, after all, he thought as he turned the dysfunctional wand over in his hands. Someone there might have recognized the wand if he had drawn it, and he wouldn't have a decent explanation for how he got his hands on it.

"Tom," he called out.

"Yeh, lad?"

"Is Ollivander's open today?"

There was a brief silence as the barkeep rummaged around in a cabinet. "No, I don't think so. If it's an emergency, you can try Wanda & Wandel's."

Harry arched a curious eyebrow, never having heard of that place before. "Any idea where I can find them?"

Tom paused and thought for a moment before giving Harry some directions. "They probably won't be open, strictly speaking, it being Christmas an' all. But the owners live right above the shop, so they might not mind helping ye."

"Thanks."

Hoping that it wouldn't take too long and make him unfashionably late, Harry stepped out of the pub into Diagon Alley and attempted to follow the barkeep's directions as best he could. The wizarding street was nearly empty, especially in contrast with the Muggle parts of London he'd just left. Most of the shops were closed for business, and there was very little snow, something Harry attributed to the magically regulated weather in Diagon Alley. After all, it wouldn't do to have the British wizarding government shut down by a blizzard or a freak hurricane.

He passed a few shops he was familiar with, but as he took his time to wander the street, for once without having people muttering and pointing at him and reporters on his heels, he took in all the little details that he had missed on his whirlwind shopping trip with Bellatrix a few days earlier. There were a few shops he recognized – Eyelops Owl Emporium was still there, though the storefront and windows looked a little cleaner than they did in his time, and, of course, there was Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, which, to his great surprise, was actually open and selling ice cream.

There were a few other stores he remembered from his time, and he walked by quite a few he didn't – for one, there was a weaver's shop where Flourish & Blott's had been, and the bookstore itself had moved two houses down from where it had been in his time. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the weaver – McWeird and McMurdo, Weaver's Inc. – was selling flying carpets. Harry at first shook his head at the impossibility of such a thing, before realizing that since there were actual flying broomsticks, it probably wasn't that much of a stretch for wizards.

The biggest surprise, however, came when he found himself standing in front of a place whose sign proudly proclaimed "Wanda & Wandel, Wandcrafters." The surprise, of course, was due to the fact that the wand shop occupied a location that was very familiar to him. It stood in the place of Quality Quidditch Supplies, the one store he had always liked to frequent with his friends, before the war had forced the government to shut down Diagon Alley. There were no brooms in the showroom, no "Quidditch Through the Ages," editions, no gleaming snitches and brightly polished quaffles. Instead, in their place, resting in ornamental display cases on a blanket of dark purple velvet, was a collection of some of the most beautifully crafted wands he'd ever seen.

Where most wands from Ollivander's were simple affairs, usually nothing more than a thin stick of wood that tapered off to a wide end to form a grip, these were elaborately carved with motifs ranging from flowers to mystic dragons. Harry blinked in surprise – this store looked rather classy, and no one in his time had ever mentioned it, nor was there any trace of it left in the Diagon Alley of his time.

Shrugging it off, Harry stepped up to the front door and discovered a sign announcing the shop's hours. As Tom had warned him to expect, Christmas Day wasn't included. Keeping the barkeep's advice in mind, Harry knocked anyway, hoping that the owners were home. When there was no answer, he peered into the darkened shop, his breath fogging the clear glass as he leaned in close. He couldn't see anything, and knocked again, a bit louder this time.

He let out a sigh of relief when a light turned on in the back of the store. Soon after, the lights in the shop proper came on, and Harry spotted a couple making their way to the door. The man was quite tall and thin, whereas the woman was shorter and stockier in build. Both of them appeared to be in their late forties, and Harry was briefly reminded of Uncle Vernon's sister – Aunt Marge. Unlike Aunt Marge, who seemed to like wearing an atrocious amount of makeup in an attempt to hide her continual sneer, this woman's face was clean and friendly, though the man looked rather irritated. Not that Harry could fault him, considering it was Christmas Day, and he was knocking on their door unannounced.

The woman reached the door first and pulled it open a bit. "May we help you?" she asked, her voice warm.

"I'm sorry to bother you on Christmas," Harry said quickly. "It's just that my wand fizzled out a few minutes ago, and I really need a new one."

"Ah, an emergency!" The woman smiled widely, nodding in understanding, though there was a slightly predatory gleam in her eyes that made him feel a bit uneasy. "Come on in, we can get you set up in just a couple of minutes."

"Thank you," Harry said, stepping into the shop.

The woman bustled around the place, looking for something, while the skinny man stood behind a counter, seemingly bored.

"Just give me a moment to find our measuring tape," the woman called out from the back room.

"Forget the tape, dear, he looks like a nine-incher to me," the man called back.

When she didn't reply, Harry glanced around the room nervously, trying to make some conversation to ease the awkwardness. "So . . . you're Wanda and Wandel?"

"No," the man said with a shrug. "They were my grandparents. They're now both dead. I'm Wendell – that's my wife Wendy."

"I see."

Apparently, the wandcrafters' grandson decided to continue to carry the conversation while his wife continued to bustle in the back room. "So, what exactly happened to your wand?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "It kind of fizzled out when I went for a time spell. Nothing serious."

"Ah." Wendell nodded knowingly. "Badly matched wand?"

"Something like that." Harry was saved from having to explain further by Wendy's return. She held up a measuring tape, and, just like his first time at Ollivander's, Harry held out his arms as it measured him out.

"Nine inches," she finally read off after a moment. Harry blinked. That hadn't taken nearly as long as it had at Ollivander's. Maybe these people really knew what they were doing.

"Told you," Wendell said with a grin.

"All right," Wendy conceded. She turned back to Harry as her husband began pulling out wand cases from the cabinets. "What was your last wand made of?"

"I never found out," Harry confessed as he quickly spun a story about the wand's origin. "It was a bit of a loaner. Belonged to an ancestor of mine. I figured it might work out fine seeing that I was able to use it in a couple of tight spots, but apparently not."

Wendy's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You used a loaned wand for years?"

"Just a couple of days, actually. My first wand kind of broke before that."

Wendy shook her head dramatically as she took some cases from her husband. "Antique wands are utterly useless. We believe that one ought to buy a new wand every couple of years or so – why, we have clients who go through their wands in a few months! After all, if the wand chooses the wizard, what happens when the wizard changes who he is, a couple of years down the road?"

"I've always wondered about that," Harry mused.

"All right . . . nine inches. Come over here, dear."

Harry followed her over to the table, where her husband had set out a long row of wands in parchment envelopes. Each envelope was printed with a different pattern – after a brief moment, Harry recognized them as the same motifs carved on the wands on display in the window.

"Just pick a design you like and try it out," Wendy encouraged.

Staring at the available motifs, Harry immediately found a few that he was sure he didn't want to pick. Running around with a wand carved with little bunnies wasn't exactly something that was high on his list of priorities . . . and he wouldn't want to be caught dead with a wand carved in rat motifs, of all things. Some of the designs were a step up from that, but roses just wasn't his thing, and he didn't think he'd garner a lot of respects with a wand covered in tiny dragons or unicorns – although, he had to admit, they did look rather cute.

He finally opted for an abstract design that did look rather nice, and was about as close to a plain wand as he could come in this place. He reached in and picked up one of the corresponding envelopes.

"Excellent!" Wendy exclaimed. "Open it and give it a try."

Harry was pleased to discover upon opening the envelope that it contained a rather plain looking wand with an innocuous carved motif that he decided he could come to like. It was a dark brown hue, oak, maybe. He gave it an experimental wave, and was delighted to see sparks fly out. "I guess it works," he observed, though he noticed that they were distinctly duller and smaller than they had been when he had been matched with his original holly wand.

"Wonderful!" Wendy declared gleefully. "Will you be taking this one, then?"

"I guess so."

"That'll be five galleons."

Harry fished out the requested money, wincing internally at having to shell out more of his dwindling stock of gold, and handed it over. "Thank you for your time," he said, grateful that he wouldn't be facing a whole party full of potential dark wizards unarmed.

"Not a problem," Wendell replied curtly.

Harry took his leave and briskly returned to the Leaky Cauldron, giving Tom a grateful nod as he passed the bar and was asked if he'd been successful. He drew his new wand and tried for the time spell again, relieved when instead of sparks, the actual time did come out of the tip of his wand. If he floo'ed now, he would be there at precisely seven o'clock.

Harry grabbed a pinch of floo powder, tossed it into the fire, and stepped into the green flames. Only then did he remember he hated to floo, as vertigo overtook him, turning him around and around in a dizzying display of spinning fireplaces and possible exits. He thought he spotted No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and tentatively stepped toward it.

He tumbled out of the fireplace of a very familiar living room, though the furnishings were rather different than he was used to. It took all of his self-control and willpower to remain standing and instead of stumbling out of the fireplace.

"Who are you?" A suspicious voice greeted him. Harry's head shot up as he straightened, and he came face to face with the late Mrs. Walburga Black. Well, she was dead in his time, but here she was alive and well in the flesh. Her portrait, Harry absently noticed, barely did her justice, as it probably had been painted a few years in the future. Right now, she was a strikingly beautiful woman, somewhere in her mid-forties, he guessed, though she looked about as young and fit as any thirty-year old. Her voice also wasn't nearly as shrill as her portrait's had been, but the piercing glare that seemed to evaluate him and measure him up to some unknown standard was already present.

"Mr. Harry Ashworth." He straightened his posture and made to absently brush some soot off his cloak, schooling his face into a neutral expression. It wouldn't do to give away the fact that he recognized her now.

He resisted the urge to squirm under her intense scrutiny, and after a second, he seemed to have passed as she nodded haughtily and waved him in. "Madame Walburga Black." She gestured to another woman who had just entered the room. "This is Druella Black, nee Rosier, my sister. The dining room is that way. Bellatrix!"

"Yes, Aunt Walburga?" the familiar voice came from upstairs, where Harry remembered Sirius's room to have been, along with a few other bedrooms.

"Your guest is here."

"I'll be right down."

The infamous Black matriarch nodded to herself, then turned to Harry. "Have a seat. The remainder of the guests will be here shortly. My husband and I will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you."

Harry didn't particularly want to wait for Bellatrix to arrive, and since he knew his way around the house anyway, he found the dining room without much trouble. A few people were already there, though from the sounds of it, and judging by the number of empty seats, he was one of the first to arrive. He stepped into the room and suddenly found himself grabbed by the arm and spun around.

"Hey, look at what the cat dragged in," a voice to his left spat.

"Yeah, the punk from Diagon Alley yesterday," another one added.

Harry frowned as he looked at the three young men in front of him. He vaguely recognized them from the incident in Diagon Alley the day before, and there was no doubt that they recognized him, as well. The three of them were, he guessed, between twenty and twenty-five, dressed in garish clothing that they seemed to think projected wealth, but in reality just spoke of bad fashion sense.

It works in the movies, he thought to himself with a slight shrug as he waved one hand in front of him. "I'm not the wizard you're looking for."

"Wha—?"

"You will let me pass." Another wide, arcing wave of his hand.

"Like hell we will!"

Oh well, it was worth a try, Harry thought with a mental shrug.

He reached for his wand at the same moment the three other men did. There wasn't enough time for him to cast a spell that would take care of all three, and they were too close to risk casting a spell, anyway. He snapped his wand hand up in a trick that an auror in his time had taught him. He slammed the back of his rising hand into the other man's wrist, taking a step forward as he did so. A flick of his own wrist around the other man's arm brought Harry's wand tip to bear against his throat, causing his three assailants to still abruptly.

"You punk!"

Harry paused and sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for this, and making enemies of the younger purebloods probably didn't bode well for his future relations with their parents, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. The best thing he could do was avoid confrontation at this point. "You're not even worth my time," he finally muttered and shoved the man aside, leaving him and his two companions glaring at Harry's back as he walked to the table and found himself an empty seat.

Before he could sit down, however, Harry realized that his actions had not gone unnoticed by the occupants of the room. The attention of every person in attendance was riveted on him as he walked past the three men. They also noticed this attention, and clamored to not let the incident go without saving their pride.

"You think you can just walk in here and show us all up? Who do you think you are?"

"Someone ought to teach you to respect your betters!" another said hotly.

Harry turned around and glared at them, putting every ounce of the accumulated hardship of the past few years of his life into it. The intensity and harshness of the look froze the three young men in place, but before either could say anything, they were interrupted by a loud cough from the head of the table. Harry glanced over to discover an older, pale-looking wizard sitting there. His grey hair was combed back neatly, and despite the wrinkles on his face, his figure looked remarkably healthy for someone Harry estimated to be in his late seventies to eighties. He sent Harry's three assailants a long, deliberate glance before looking away to something else. When Harry turned around, he found that the three would-be aggressors had quickly retreated to the other side of the room.

"Already getting yourself into trouble, Ashworth?" a quiet, husky voice asked from next to him.

Harry spun around and found Bellatrix standing next to him. He plastered on a grin. "Good evening, yourself."

Bellatrix nodded to the old man at the head of the table as she sat down. "That's my uncle, Orion Black," she told him.

Harry nodded quietly as he sank into his chair, carefully glancing around the room. Everyone had gone back to minding their own business upon the Black patriarch's silent command.

"What did you do to get yourself into trouble, anyway?" she asked once they were both seated.

"Nothing," he hissed back. "They're from Diagon Alley the other day."

Bellatrix was fighting to suppress a smirk; Harry could just see it briefly flitting across her face. "I see. Well, lucky for you, those guys are idiots. No brains and think they're the cream of the world."

"Crabbe and Goyle," Harry muttered under his breath with a slight chuckle as he remembered Draco's two brainless henchmen.

Bellatrix's eyebrow arched sharply. "How'd you know?"

"What?"

She nodded over to where the three were now huddled with a group of other wizards and witches their age. "That they're the Crabbes and Goyle."

Harry cursed himself silently for having actually voiced his thoughts – he hadn't thought she would have picked it up, but apparently, her ears were very good. "Lucky guess," he muttered.

"Oh no, I'm not buying that."

"Fine, I talked to an auror after they arrived. He told me a few things about what's going on." It wasn't a complete lie.

Bellatrix eyed him suspiciously, and he got the distinct feeling that she didn't really believe him. She seemed willing to let it slide for now. When more young people arrived and began taking up seats around the table she spoke again. "Come with me." She rose from the table and led him to the far corner of the room, well out of earshot of most people.

"What?" Harry asked when they stopped, figuring that she wanted to talk without the risk of being overheard.

"My mum thinks that Uncle Orion is going to die soon, and she's hoping we'll inherit something. I don't think we'll get as much as a mention in his will, though. Aunt Walburga is going to be around for years, and she isn't going to let anything come our way." She glanced at him sharply, violet eyes piercing into his green ones. "Based on your knowledge of the future, would you agree with that assessment?"

Harry groaned as he realized what she was doing. She wanted to prod him for more information. He glanced over at the Black patriarch. "He looks rather healthy to me. I don't think he's going to die anytime soon." Unless he gets assassinated, he amended silently.

"There's always a chance that something happens to him," Bellatrix commented, seemingly off-handedly, but he could tell she fully understood the meaning of her words.

Harry stared back neutrally. "Whatever happened to pureblood loyalty?"

Bellatrix met his stare for a moment before shrugging. "All hypotheses aside, would you agree that if he died, that is what would happen?"

"Based solely on the knowledge of your family, you'd probably be right." Harry agreed carefully. He wasn't entirely sure about the history of the Black family, but judging by the fact that Orion Black seemed to be a very healthy, very powerful – if aging – man, and that there were wizards who were far older than he, he figured that something must have happened to him in the years to come.

"Damn it," Bellatrix muttered angrily. "What's the use of being a part one of the oldest, most prominent, pureblood families if you don't even get to be rich?"

Harry shrugged, suppressing a mental smirk. It seemed that Bellatrix wasn't so different from the other young purebloods, after all. Money and power still were at the top of her priorities, which meant she could be manipulated. She was just being a little more intelligent about choosing which battles to fight. That, at least, gave him some sort of ease as he figured he could probably safely judge the way her loyalties would shift in the future, and when he would have to start watching his back. "I never saw any particular advantage to being rich, myself," he commented absently.

"How ironic," she sighed, absently turning her attention to the other guests in the room. "You don't care about ancient and noble names, money, or power, yet you become the heir to the entire Black fortune while my sisters and I get married off to the highest bidder – probably chosen by my overbearing aunt."

All Harry could do was shrug again. She was right – at least as far as she and Narcissa were concerned. Andromeda had gotten away, but it had gotten her disowned, not that that had been a bad thing, considering how the rest of her family had ended up.

Bellatrix observed him carefully, looking for any sign of a confirmation. "Well? Am I right? Did I get married to some rich bastard to breed his useless children and become his trophy wife?"

"I think it'd be better for everyone if I just kept my mouth shut about the future," he told her quietly, though he had to fight down the urge to grin like a maniac. Though Bellatrix had never had any children, her sister Narcissa had certainly given birth to a useless child. And the thought of Bellatrix being a "trophy wife" of any sort was a chilling contrast to what she had actually become. One could only hope, he thought to himself. The world might have been a much better place, and the war with Voldemort a lot easier, if she had been a trophy wife and nothing more.

"I don't think so," Bellatrix disagreed. "You have no desire to return to the future – that tells me one thing: you don't like whatever happens there, and you're planning to make changes. I don't know what you're planning to change, but if it's got anything to do with me, I'm entitled to know about it!"

"What I intend to do is none of your business." Harry replied evenly. He'd tried the nice approach, and went for bluntness now.

"The hell it is!" Bellatrix hissed. "You know me, or at least, you will know me. I'm certain of that much. That means whatever you do will directly impact what happens to me." She glared at him. "Trust me, you do not want me as your enemy."

Harry suppressed a smirk. Compared to the Bellatrix of his time, this version of her was no threat. She was skilled and powerful, that was for sure, but she was nowhere near what she would become in a decade or two. No, most of her power right now was in her social connections. Not that Harry cared much about those – they were merely a means to meet Voldemort, and kill him before he could start any of the madness that would erupt in the future.

"Like it or not, Black, whatever I do to change the future concerns no one but me." And old Tom, Harry added mentally.

Bellatrix's violet eyes flashed in anger. "Awfully high-handed, aren't we?"

Harry clammed up, deciding that the conversation was over. Arguing with her at this point was useless, and he refused to reveal anything more. He knew why she was angry. There was no altruism behind her reasoning – she wasn't trying to force Harry to reveal his knowledge of the future to make it better. Instead, she wanted that knowledge for her own personal gain, wanted to know if what he would do would benefit her. She felt threatened, because whatever he did without her knowledge would be beyond her control.

A crazy idea sprang into his mind, to feed her just enough information to convince her that he was on her side, that whatever he did would be beneficial for Bellatrix Black in the future. In a single move, he could snatch her up and deprive Voldemort of his most notorious and arguably most dangerous follower. However, as quickly as that idea had come, he discarded it. There were simply too many unknowns about the Bellatrix Black of this time. He didn't know if she would honor the commitments she made, and while he knew what motivated her – power, wealth, and ambition – there was no guarantee that she wouldn't find the coming Dark Lord's offer that much more promising. Or that she would strike out on her own.

No, for now it would be much too risky to let anyone know of his plans, even the seventeen-year old with the connections. "Yes," he admitted, "it is high-handed of me. I am making decisions for everyone I ever associated with in the future. However, it isn't as if I've got many options, and you can be assured that whatever the future is, any changes I make will make it better for everyone involved."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You're a fighter," she concluded. "You've been trained for warfare. I read the report in the paper, and listened to what those brain-dead idiots were saying after they got their parents to bail them out of jail."

"I used stunners and banishing charms," Harry defended himself.

"It's not about the spells. It's about this," she tapped her temple. "Tactics. Knowledge, experience. You didn't even blink when I asked you about demolishing a group of ruffians back at the inn, which tells me that you're no stranger to combat. The training and expertise it took to take down even those morons is not something you're taught in school or even in auror training."

Harry remained silent. There wasn't really anything he could say or do that wouldn't reveal more to her than she was deducting now.

"That means you were probably at war with someone in the future," she said. "And that means there was another side. Judging from the way you want to change things, I take it things didn't go so well for you, and now you want to change that." Her eyes hardened suddenly. "So don't give me that crap about making it better for everyone, because you're clearly not going to be making things better for whoever was fighting against you and kicking your butt!"

He stared at her evenly, trying to figure out how to derail her from finding out more. "And what," he began slowly, trying to appeal to her sense of self-preservation, "makes you think that you weren't on my side in this theoretical war of yours?" He paused to let the question sink in. "Let's assume for a moment that what you think is correct. You believe I was involved in a war? You also seem to believe that I know your future self. You figure it out."

He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she mulled that new information over. Her eyes clouded over as she frowned, and finally shook her head. "So if I was on your side, why won't you tell me what's going on, then?"

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "It's all theoretical." At least, to her it was. He was almost afraid of how quickly she had deducted things from things that he had done without thinking about them.

She stared at him intently, and then sighed. "I suppose so. For now, at least. I suppose I can keep helping you . . . for a price."

Harry wasn't sure how much Bellatrix would value being one of Voldemort's lieutenants, but as far as his own opinion went, there certainly were better fates. "Let's just say that if you stick around and make the right choices, you've got plenty to gain." Including an actual life for yourself, he thought to himself.

"How much?"

"A lot."

She hummed in thought. "If you were to change the future . . . how significant of a change would it be?"

"Extremely," Harry replied curtly.

"Significant enough to become the Minister of Magic, if people were to find out that you were responsible, perhaps?"

"Sure," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Don't know who'd even want that miserable position, much less as a reward, though."

"You're sorely lacking in ambition," Bellatrix concluded dryly.

"It depends on your definition of ambition, I guess."

"I guess we'll see how it goes."

"I guess so," he said.

"For now, I'll stick with you, as long as it benefits me," she finally decided.

"How kind of you," Harry noted sarcastically. "I thought you'd already agreed to help me out in return for those thousands of galleons I helped you lift from your family's vault."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I intend to keep my promise. I'm just saying that I'll be looking into any further opportunities to get you connected. If anything comes up, I'll make sure it works to your benefit, as long as I'm sure that it'll benefit me in return. But when you start making changes to the timeline, you better make sure you include me in your plans."

"I'll see what comes up," Harry told her noncommittally.

She looked like she was about to argue that point, but let it slide. Her glance wandered over to another group of pureblood children that had just entered. "Hate to break it to you, Ashworth, but you're going to be on your own for most of the evening, unless you want to keep clashing with those young idiots that my parents and Auntie insist I befriend. I suggest you stick close to the older folks and act as intelligently as you can. If you act competent and show that you can keep a secret or two, you just might pick up some."

"What, pick up some old people?" Harry was surprised he managed that with a straight face.

"Secrets, moron."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Then stop acting like one!"

Harry decided not to grace that with a reply. "Are there secrets to be had?" he asked as he glanced around the room.

"Maybe," she said, turning around to walk away. She looked over her shoulder one last time. "And Ashworth, don't even try to apologize to anyone about mangling their children in Diagon Alley. It shows weakness. Stay aloof."

"Aloof," Harry muttered quietly to himself as he watched her join a group of young men and women that were chatting near a window. He supposed that it was good advice. He was about to meander over and join a group of older men standing near the door when he found himself staring at a black-robed chest. He craned his neck up and realized that he was staring into the face of a much-younger Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Having a nice chat with Bella, are we?" he growled.

"What's it to you?"

"That's my future wife you're hitting on." The younger Lestrange brother cracked his knuckles menacingly. "And I don't take kindly to people trying to take what is mine."

Harry's mind raced as he tried to come up with a way to reply that wouldn't sound like either a lame excuse, or a challenge to a fight, but before he could, Walburga and Druella Black strode into the room. All conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to the two women.

"Dinner will now begin," Walburga intoned formally. Everyone took their seats, even Rodolphus, after sending one last venomous glare in Harry's direction.

Food appeared on the table the moment everyone had been seated, and Harry found himself joined on one side by a man that he thought might be Cygnus Black, Bellatrix's father, and someone who looked vaguely related to the Flint family, though he wasn't sure about that. The potential Flint grunted some sort of greeting, while the Black wordlessly began eating. Harry followed suit, glad for the decent meal, though the oddly ornate style of the silverware made him wonder about the sanitary standards maintained in the Black kitchen. He desperately tried not to think about Kreacher and the heads of the house elves that had been on display on the wall when he had first been to Grimmauld Place before his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Harry was silent for most of the dinner, until an old man who bore a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy addressed him. The young time-traveler could tell that the silence around him had nothing to do with a lack of interest on the part of those present, because as soon as he was addressed, he had everyone's undivided attention.

"So," Malfoy began slowly, "you must be that young fellow we've heard so much about. Harry Ashworth, is it?"

"That would be me," Harry responded evenly, setting his face into a blank expression and maintaining eye contact. "You must be a Malfoy."

An arched eyebrow was his reply. "Indeed."

"Your skills with a wand are rather impressive, if the paper is to be believed," the Black on Harry's left commented.

Harry glanced over. Never show weakness, he thought to himself. "Against a couple of untrained thugs who are too busy fighting each other to put up a decent fight? I guess they'd call it impressive."

To his surprise, the man laughed, though Harry caught his three would-be assailants from before bristling at the other end of the table, along with a few others. "A good answer. A good answer, indeed. Cygnus Black," he introduced himself. "I believe you know my daughter, Bellatrix."

"We've crossed paths a few times," Harry acknowledged neutrally.

"So she mentioned."

"I hope that's a good thing."

A loud shout from the other end of the table caused several heads to turn. A young man had shot up from his seat, his wand drawn and aimed in Harry's direction. Harry tensed, ready to leap out of the chair and draw his own wand, when the wand was ripped from the young man's hand and sailed through the air to land in Orion Black's outstretched hand.

"Calm!" The word was said in almost a whisper, but it echoed through the entire room with enough force and authority to make the youngster sit back down instantly.

Cygnus Black returned his attention to Harry. "It would appear that a few of our children don't agree with your assessment of them," he said with dark amusement.

Harry shrugged. "What else did you want me to call them? They hardly know how to hold a wand straight and cast a curse, and were so busy yelling insults at each other that they didn't notice how much destruction they were causing or that I was behind them."

"I take it you don't approve of their actions in Diagon Alley, then?" Malfoy asked evenly.

Harry looked over and met the man's stare. "Whatever their conflict, what I don't approve of is the manner in which they resolved it. They acted unbecoming of their status."

He must have said something right, because Malfoy nodded in approval. "Indeed. In fact, that is what most of us here believe." He glared down at the end of the table, cowing the few young purebloods there that had been in the process of rising up again. "But all speculations aside, I would be very interested to hear what a young man such as you does for a living, especially since you are a foreigner, yes?"

Harry knew enough to know that professing to do nothing would be the best way to utterly convince everyone that he was up to something nefarious. He opted for a neutral reply. "I heard that there were opportunities for the . . . ambitious sort here. And yes, I'm from Australia, though most recently of the United States."

Malfoy seemed interested. "There are opportunities— especially if one associates with the right sort of people, and depending on your view on . . . certain issues in the world."

"Which issues would that be?" Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Political ones. Concerning the future of our world," Orion Black responded gravely, addressing Harry for the first time.

Harry turned to the Black family patriarch. "I see. I assume, then, that some of these issues are related to the tensions between the old families and those that support Muggleborn?"

The entire room quieted as everyone stared at Harry. He was starting to think that he had made a mistake by revealing too much, when Orion Black nodded slowly. "Our way of life has lasted for centuries. The last few decades have brought great changes. There are some who believe that adaptation is the only way to ensure our survival. Others," the patriarch glanced around the table, "believe that we can continue as we are—that adaptation will eventually bring about our downfall."

"And which do you believe in?" Harry asked carefully.

"What I am more interested in, young Ashworth," the eldest Black said, staring him straight in the eye and, Harry thought irrationally for a moment, straight into the soul, "is just what it is that you believe."

Harry idly toyed with his goblet for a moment, slowly spinning its stem between his fingers and watching the wine slosh around the cup. He was dreadfully aware of everyone's attention on him, and had the sinking feeling that one wrong word would lead him to a heap of trouble. If there was any time to pick his words carefully, this was it. Time to appear smart, he thought to himself. He couldn't reveal how much – or little – he knew, nor would it be a good idea to seem too eager to approve of their ideals in his attempt to get close to Voldemort.

"I believe," Harry began very slowly and very, very carefully, "that the wizarding world, as it stands today, is incapable of survival. I believe that it is in desperate need of reform, of a strong, charismatic leadership that is not afraid to make difficult decisions, and that those in power need, above all else, the integrity, ability, and willingness to fight for what they believe in. That is what is missing in today's wizarding world." He had lifted his head as he spoke and was now proudly returning the Black patriarch's stare. He had spoken the truth – from a certain point of view. The best lie was one wrapped in truth, after all. The wizarding world of his time had gone down the drain exactly because it was being led by spineless cowards like Fudge, who were so engrossed in their own status that they refused to acknowledge anything that might rock their little fantasy world. He reckoned it probably was much the same in this time.

"A wise answer," Orion Black finally conceded after a moment of silence. "Our youth seem so eager to blame all of their problems on the Muggleborn, but it is the rare few that realize that we first have to find the problem with ourselves, before finding fault in others."

Cygnus Black smiled and raised his goblet to Harry. "It's good to see that not all youth are hot-headed and quick to resort to their wands to solve a problem. Though you do seem quite apt with one, anyway."

"And I am sure there will be many opportunities open to someone with as many talents as you, Mr. Ashworth," Malfoy added.

Harry nodded graciously, finally breaking eye contact with the Black patriarch. "Then perhaps one day I may be fortunate enough to be invited to the correct place at the right time to take advantage of such opportunities, then."

"I am certain you will," Malfoy agreed.

"You have met Bellatrix, and my wife, of course," Cygnus Black inserted himself into the conversation after a brief pause. "Have you met my other daughters?"

"I can't say I have had the pleasure," Harry replied. Bellatrix's father smiled widely.

"I have two others. Narcissa, my youngest, and Andromeda," he explained.

Malfoy grinned conspiratorially. "And I have been so fortunate as to be in the right place, as you put it, Mr. Ashworth, that my son Lucius is betrothed to one of Cygnus's beautiful daughters."

"Really?" Harry said, faking surprise. Narcissa Black had, of course, married Lucius Malfoy. Although, Harry had not realized that the betrothal had taken place so early in Narcissa's life.

"I believe you would get along very well," Malfoy continued. "Lucius is much like you – intelligent, ambitious . . . oh, so very ambitious."

"I would like to meet him some day." Harry tried not to gag at the thought. Befriend Draco's father? The man had been an utter scumbag in his time, someone who used his money and political influence to get what he wanted. In fact, if Fudge had had money, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Fudge had turned out to be the same as Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm sure something can be arranged. Lucius might even learn a few things from you, considering your experience in foreign countries."

"An arranged marriage?" Harry vaguely recalled hearing something about the Black sisters' marriages having been arranged, but he didn't remember any specifics.

"Yes," Cygnus replied with some dismay. "I believe my sister seems to have her eyes set on giving away yet another one of my daughters." Harry followed his eyes to the end of the table and wasn't surprised to find Rodolphus Lestrange sitting next to Bellatrix, talking to her.

"I don't know if Bellatrix will take the bait, but at least she seems to be on speaking terms with him," her father added, "which is quite an improvement over when they were first introduced."

Harry arched an eyebrow, not really surprised. "Is that so?" He was actually surprised to realize that, now that he thought about it, Lestrange – either one of them – wasn't really Bellatrix's type. She seemed rather intelligent, self-absorbed, and egocentric. Lestrange, from what he knew of him in the future, was much the same and Harry would be willing to bet that he demanded that his future wife all but worship the ground he walked on. Right now, though, he seemed to be willing enough to compromise just to get Bellatrix's attention. Harry realized with a smirk that the girl had a bored expression on her face and wasn't really paying attention as he probably tryied to impress her with some story or another.

Her father noticed the direction of Harry's glance and eyed the young man curiously. "I was led to believe you've only known my daughter for a short time," he finally commented.

"Excuse me?" Harry started.

"The way you look at my daughter. It seems you've known her for far longer than a few days."

"It's not that," Harry replied glibly. "I was just thinking that I don't think she likes him very much."

Cygnus hummed noncommittally. "To be perfectly frank, neither do I." He arched an eyebrow at Harry. "That young man is boorish, uncultured, and lacks the finesse that we Blacks call our own."

Oh, he definitely lacks finesse, Harry thought with a barely suppressed chortle. Lestrange was about as subtle as a sledgehammer on the battlefield, the type that would shoot first, shoot some more, and then probably forget to ask questions afterwards. "From what I've seen of him, I'm forced to agree."

"Ah yes, your little run in with him before my sister so timely arrived."

"He struck me as rather un-Slytherin. One might even call his behavior almost Gryffindorish," Harry commented deliberately. He was taking a gamble, trying to probe the older man's opinion on the houses.

"I do not think even a Gryffindor would act like he does, though his tendency to act without thinking certainly fits." Bellatrix's father narrowed his eyes. "But that is not truly your opinion of the houses, is it?"

"Pardon me?"

"Bellatrix explained to me your little speech a few days ago. When you prevented her from having a confrontation with that Potter boy."

"I see." Harry frowned, realizing that he probably should have kept his mouth shut. As much as he hated to admit that Snape was right, he really did have a tendency to act first and think later. "You would be right, then."

"You seem to have a rather interesting view on things, Mr. Ashworth, not to mention the fact that you seem to know a lot about the wizarding world in England, despite the fact that you're not from here. Something like that hardly goes unnoticed."

"I like to know what is going on in the world." Harry shrugged. "In times like these, I believe it's important to know what is happening, especially somewhere I plan on going."

"Laudable." Cygnus eyed Harry critically. "I would have to say, I am impressed, Mr. Ashworth. I did not think much of you when Bellatrix first came to us with the idea of inviting you to this gathering. After the incident in Diagon Alley, some of us had begun to suspect that you may, in fact, be a mercenary of sorts from the radical wing of our political opposition."

"And now?"

"Some still believe that you are a mercenary, no doubt."

"How about you?"

"I do believe I would approve of you more than I do the Lestrange boy." Cygnus glanced sharply to the side at his sister. "Just make sure Walburga never hears I said so."

"My lips are sealed," Harry replied, fighting down his shock. The last thing he wanted to do was end up engaged to Bellatrix Black! He hated the woman, for heaven's sake! To his utter relief, her father switched topics, and Harry spent the rest of the evening in surprisingly pleasant conversation with him and the elder Malfoy.

When Malfoy and Black moved on to strike up conversations with others after the meal concluded, Harry took the opportunity to make his rounds. He resolved to at least become acquainted with everyone in the room, the more intelligent ones, anyway, before leaving. He managed to accomplish it by quietly joining the various cliques, one by one, who were grouped about the room and then participating in whatever conversation they were having long enough to at least make a couple of intelligent comments on the subject being discussed, and in some cases, even to tell them more about himself and the fake history he'd made up.

When the time came to leave, marked by the faded energy of those present as well as Harry's own exhaustion, he made for the fireplace to floo away after giving Walburga Black a grateful nod and wave. He was glad that she was otherwise occupied – he had a feeling that talking to her would be near impossible without thinking of her portrait in the future, which he didn't exactly have the fondest memories of.

He found the fireplace in the living room quite readily, though he couldn't find the floo powder to go along with it. He discovered an ornate urn that might qualify, but he didn't want to actually stick his hand into it – long experience with dark artifacts and, much more importantly, two generations of pranksters, had taught him that it generally was a bad idea. Especially in Sirius's home.

"Yes, that's floo powder, and yes, it's safe to stick your hand in the pot," Bellatrix's voice came from behind him.

Harry turned around. She had separated herself from Lestrange – quite a feat, Harry mused, considering how he'd been almost permanently attached to her side during the entire dinner and socializing afterwards. "Give up on your boyfriend?" he asked briskly.

"He's a complete bonehead," she informed him. "Actually, that's a lie. He doesn't even have enough brains to qualify as a bonehead."

"Then what's that make him?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "A slug, or something."

Harry suppressed a chuckle, especially knowing what he did about Bellatrix and her future husband. He couldn't help but wonder, just how much had that marriage changed her? And how much had she changed, to accept it as she must have done at some point in the future. "You want some advice from my secret knowledge of the future?"

"Always," Bellatrix replied, her eager eyes betraying her hope that Harry would tell her something useful.

"Remember that Lestrange – any Lestrange, really – has the brains of a slug, and you'll go further in life than you did in my time."

"Yeugh!" Bellatrix made a face. "Does that mean I actually marry him in the future?"

Harry frowned, realizing what he'd just let out. "Forget I said anything," he said as he turned back around and reached into the urn, grabbing a handful of floo powder. He tossed it into the fire and watched the flames flare up.

"No, wait!" Bellatrix took several steps forward. "Tell me! Please!"

Harry ignored her and stepped into the fire before she could follow him, cursing himself for letting something like that slip.

6. Suspicious Patterns

A/N: Not our quickest update, but we can reassure you that the delay was not caused by writer's block. The reader in me realizes that seeing Harry still camped in Diagon Alley may be frustrating, but I can assure you that he will have moved on by next chapter. ~LS

Chapter 5

By:

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

The time between Boxing Day and New Year's turned out to be rather dull for Harry. His slowly dwindling supply of money served as a good motivation to go job hunting, but as he was now painfully aware, very few places were in the mood to go through the process of hiring someone new over the holidays. There had been one offer, made by the manager of Eyelop's Owl Emporium, but Harry had decided that cleaning out pet cages wasn't really something he wanted to be doing for the foreseeable future. It did make him realize, however, that he probably should be figuring out what kind of job exactly he was looking for, rather than aimlessly replying to every ad in the Prophet.

After thinking about it for a few days and mulling over his qualifications–or lack thereof, Harry came to the inescapable conclusion that he was well and truly screwed. His education at Hogwarts had been thorough, that was true, but he found that other than DADA, he hadn't really enjoyed any other subject enough to develop more than a passing familiarity with it. He also didn't really want to be a teacher, not at Hogwarts, at least. He was sure Dumbledore was already curious, and he was on Moody's radar. There was no need to announce himself by waltzing into the castle and asking for a position as the next DADA teacher. Private tutoring might have been an option, but that idea died a swift death when he remembered that the semester would be starting in a few days, and therefore deprive him of his clientele until the summer.

Before the war had gotten too bad, he'd aspired to become an auror–but that was also out of the question. He would rather not test out his forged documentation by having them scrutinized by the Ministry in detail. Besides, that move would likely also draw attention from people he really didn't need any from at this point. So, it was either wait and see, or keep hunting in the hopes that something that he wouldn't mind doing for the next few months cropped up.

He almost didn't want to head over to the forger's place to pick up his license, knowing full well that he would have to drop his remaining two thousand galleons owed for the apparition license there, but after nearly a week, he couldn't put it off anymore. He would need that license eventually, even if the pile of gold he kept separate from the two thousand kept getting smaller with every meal he ate and every night he spent at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry stood in front of the door. By now it was cold enough that his breath was visible in the frigid air, and he was glad for the warming charm that kept him and his clothes at a cozy temperature. It certainly explained why wizards only ever wore the same robes no matter what the weather was like. He opened the door without bothering to knock, and walked all the way into the back of the building to the shop. It was empty, but Sabine soon stepped out from the back room, she having been alerted to Harry's presence by the creaking of the front door.

"Harry!" she greeted him warmly. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," Harry replied politely, though not as warmly as she might have expected. Harry had initially found her personality quite attractive, but in the past weeks, he had realized that encouraging anything more than an acquaintance with the forger's daughter was unwise and perhaps even unfair.

"You've come at just the right time," she told him eagerly. "We just got word from our contact at the Ministry that your license has been registered. It's as real as real can be, and you didn't even have to take the test! When your renewal is due, go in on a busy day, pay the fee, and you'll be bona fide."

"That's great," Harry replied, though not with nearly as much excitement.

"You do know how to apparate, right?" she asked him teasingly.

"Of course." It was the truth. He'd just never gotten around to getting his license in his time, and by the end, there hadn't been anyone around to care that he didn't have one.

"Good. Unless you splinch yourself and let everyone know that you couldn't have passed the test in the first place, no one should be able to tell that it's illegal."

"Unless you tell them," Harry commented, his voice dry enough to convey humor instead of offense.

"Of course not! It wouldn't be good to sell out our own customers, would it?" she replied seriously. There was a slight hesitation and she spoke again."Look, why don't you stay the evening and have dinner with me and my father?"

Harry weighed his options for a moment and then spoke resignedly. "Things could go sour," he told her quietly, bending the truth a little bit. "I'm afraid it might be best for you and your father if we didn't see too much of each other too soon." He almost relented at the brief expression of hurt that flitted across her pretty face, but it vanished almost instantly.

"Of course," she told him neutrally and sadly, though Harry thought he detected a note of understanding in her voice.

"I'm sorry, really I am . . ." Harry began, only to be interrupted by a nonchalant wave of her hand.

"It's perfectly all right. Let me just get your license."

Harry sighed and nodded as she disappeared through the door again. Sabine returned a minute later, handing him a rolled-up piece of parchment. "There you go. Does that look real enough to you?"

"Sure." Harry glanced down at the item in his hands, not really caring that he couldn't tell if it was a fake or genuine because he'd never seen a real reached into his robes and withdrew a sack of gold.

The forger's daughter took it forlornly, stowing the money underneath the counter. They stood looking at each other, Harry trying to think of something to say to soften the hurt she must be feeling.

"Did your other papers pass muster?" she asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Sorry?"

"When all the aurors showed up after you beat that group of snots into a pulp," she reminded him. "If old Moody was there like the paper said he was, I bet you had to show him every document you had on you to avoid getting arrested."

"I got away with showing only the passport," he replied. "Why the curiosity?"

"It's good to know that our work has passed the real test."

"The real test?" Harry asked. It seemed to him that the folks who would order forged documents the most often were the sort that would have run-ins with the law on a regular basis, hence the need for clean forged documents.

Sabine smirked. "It does no good to make an alternate identity for yourself if everyone already knows who you are. Thus, our products aren't really put to the test because it's so obvious that they can't be genuine."

"I guess so," Harry admitted slowly.

Sabine arched an eyebrow. "If there are wanted posters of you all over the place, even the best forged documentation is not going to convince anyone looking at your face that you're someone else."

"Right." Harry suppressed a shudder. By the end there had been wanted posters of him all over Britain. Voldemort had wanted him, really wanted him dead. Even more so than Dumbledore, which was saying something. The Order had thought to create an alternate identity for him at one point, but nothing had come out of it. Harry idly wondered if they would have gone to Sabine and her father for the false documents had they ever had decided to go forward with that plan.

She noticed his brief hesitation. "Are there wanted posters of you posted somewhere?" she asked him suspiciously.

His lack of response caused her to narrow her eyes at him. "Harry?" she asked, a little more harshly than before.

"Oh," he said, doing his best to act startled, wondering for a brief moment if he should tell her to scare her off his trail. He decided against it, in the end, it would likely cause more trouble than it would be worth. "No, I'm not wanted anywhere for anything."

"I see," she said, not quite believing him. And he could tell. He could almost see the doubt in her eyes, and realized that most of her other clients probably were the sort that were wanted somewhere, or maybe even everywhere. She glanced up at him. He didn't strike her as the evil sort, though there was something about him that told her not to cross him. "Why are you on the run, then?" she asked.

"Who said I'm on the run?" Harry replied with a smile. "All I needed was an identity."

"What happened to the real one?"

"I lost it." There was no humor in his tone. The words struck a chord with him, because they were the truth, as far as he could tell. It would be a long time, if ever, before he would be able to reclaim his real name. He might never be able to go back to being Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans-Potter, godson of Sirius Black, and adoptive godson of Remus Lupin—the bane of Severus Snape's life and classes. Even if he managed to survive his encounter with Voldemort and somehow succeeded in killing the dark wizard, and then returned to his time, would his life still exist? He didn't know. And it was a long shot, anyway. He wasn't entirely sure that he would survive Voldemort.

The awkward silence grew, until Harry decided that he'd had enough. "I think I had better go." He stood up and started for the front door. Once he reached the door, he paused, his hand on the knob. "I don't know if I'll run into you again, but . . . thank you for everything."

"Come back if you ever need more help," she called half-heartedly, not sure herself if she wanted to see him again. Though she did have to admit, Harry Ashworth struck her as being the good sort.

~!~!~!~!

The next morning began just the same as every other morning he had spent in the past with the exception of the horrid experience resultant of being woken by Bellatrix Black. He rolled out of bed at the extremely early hour of nine and trudged to the bathroom. This day, though, he realized with a start that his personal habits had gone down the drain ever since his capture and subsequent travel to the past. Whether it had been brought on by the musings on the last few years of his life the day before, or something else, he didn't know, but he couldn't help but realize that taking up residence in a time of relative peace was causing him to pick up habits that would have gotten him killed in his own time. Waking up late was no good. Then worse, sleeping heavily—which led to being disoriented for a few critical seconds after waking up. Moody would have had his head, if he knew of Harry's negligence.

Resolving to do better in the future, Harry completed his morning routine and wandered downstairs to pick up breakfast, though he quickly realized that today wouldn't be quite the same as usual, for sitting at his table and flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet was the object of his nightmares – Bellatrix Black. He hadn't seen her since the gathering at No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and he had really hoped not to see her again for at least several weeks.

As he crept closer to his usual table, he could see empty plates stacked up in front of her, as if she'd helped herself to breakfast while waiting for him. He ducked his head down and started to turn around, but she glanced up from the paper and spotted him before he could move away. "I bet your mother enjoyed having to haul you out of bed every morning in order for you to ever get anything done," she drawled acerbically.

"I wouldn't know," Harry muttered angrily before he could stop himself.

Bellatrix arched her eyebrows and was formulating a question just as Harry was trying to come up with an excuse to disappear from the Leaky Cauldron until she was gone. He briefly entertained the thought of just apparating away – it was frightfully rude, but he didn't feel too much compunction against it. The pub, though, wasn't particularly empty at this time, and it would probably draw unwanted attention. Neither of them got the chance to finish their thoughts because they were interrpupted by Tom's arrival, bearing Harry's usual breakfast plates.

Not wanting to waste the food he had already paid for with his rapidly dwindling supply of galleons, Harry opted to sit down and eat, doing his best to ignore the young woman at the table. After a few moments of poorly disguised attempts at prodding him for information, which he roundaboutly ignored in favor of shovelling the food into his mouth, the young Black witch realized that prodding him for information at this point would likely prove fruitless. She resolved to settle back and file the slip-up for later use and questioning – right now, there were things to discuss, things that she'd come to the pub for.

"So," she finally began after watching him stuff his face for a while. "Do you eat like a pig on purpose in the hopes of scaring me off with your despicable display of table manners, or are you just in that much of a hurry?"

Harry merely grunted an unintelligible reply, causing Bellatrix to smirk. "Because I know you aren't that uncultured. You did just fine at the feast the other night. So you can cut the act, Ashworth. You're not fooling anyone."

Harry finally pulled his face from his food. "Don't you ever shut up? Do you enjoy nagging just for the sake of it? Why in Merlin's name are you even here in the first place?" He couldn't help it, despite his best efforts to keep things to himself, he kept slipping up, and he was starting to get irritated at himself for it. He knew that the more he let slip, by accident or on purpose, the more she would be intrigued, and the more she would be after him for further information. It could be a useful tool . . . but it could also be his undoing. He didn't know how much knowledge of the future would change the future, and, much like with Sabine, he didn't want to chance changing too much. The irritation that crept into his voice must have been obvious, because Bellatrix narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Watch it, Ashworth. I promised my help, but only if it benefits me. Keep snapping at me like that, and I'll take my chances with the other side."

Harry snorted. Right, he thought sarcastically, because that got you so far the last time around. He carefully kept that comment silent, however. Having his mouth full of food also helped the fact that he couldn't say anything in reply.

Bellatrix seemed content without interruption, because the angry look in her eyes faded after a brief moment. "For your information, I've been keeping an eye on the classifieds in the Prophet for potential job openings."

"I can do that, myself, you know. That's not exactly much help," he told her curtly. If that was why she'd come seeking him out today, she was wasting her time. He didn't want to spend longer with her than he absolutely had to, and that included his job hunt. So far, it didn't seem like she had anything important for him to go off on, which meant that rude or not, he would be taking his leave after he finished eating.

The young witch seemed a bit irritated with his nonchalant brush-off of her offer, but she pressed on. "They don't seem to have anything respectable. An all-mighty time traveler such as you probably shouldn't pick up a career as a dishwasher at a pub."

"They've got magic for that," Harry grunted in reply between two mouthfuls, idly recalling the times he had visited the Burrow and watched Ron's mother work her magic in the kitchen – literally. He glared at her as he fully digested what she'd said. "And would you mind saying that a little louder? I don't think the rest of Diagon Alley heard you yet."

She glared right back, not backing down from his stare, though he caught a brief flicker of uncertainty in her eyes that vanished so quickly he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. "Ashworth," she said very slowly, almost dangerously, "I could stand on the table and loudly declare all day to anyone who'd listen that you're a time traveler, and no one would believe me."

"Don't be so sure about that," Harry growled, thinking of Dumbledore, and Moody, and Voldemort, and all the attention that he really did not need to attract right now.

Bellatrix ignored his comment, tucked a strand of her long black hair behind her ear, and flipped open the copy of the Prophet she had been reading. "Nothing in here, but you can have a look if you want." She watched as Harry picked up the paper and made a grand show of hiding himself behind it, deliberately shutting her out. Her irritation carried over into her tone. "I've been asking around, though, and there are a few places that might at least take a look at you. I was thinking," she hissed, finally annoyed enough to yank the paper out of his hands, "I was thinking that we might be able to visit some of them today. If you keep acting like this, however . . ."

Harry sighed, grabbed her hand, and un-twisted the pages from between her fingers. He folded the page over with exaggerated care, and then presented her his find. "The Knight Bus needs a conductor," he told her. It wasn't anything grand, but it was the first offer he felt comfortable with accepting. Maybe he would even get to meet Ernie again. He remembered the driver fondly, from his first – and thus far, only – trip with the Knight Bus. He supposed that Stan Shunpike would be too young, or perhaps not even born yet, for having a job.

"Are you kidding me?" Bellatrix disagreed with a sneer. "That job is for slugs. Aspiring young morons like yourself ought to aim higher."

He arched an eyebrow at her coolly. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that." After a short moment he determined that he wouldn't blow his lid at her namecalling again. She likely just did it to get a rise out of him, and it had worked, for the most part, and caused him to reveal things in his heated responses that he hadn't wanted her to know. It had taken him a while to realize that, and once he had, he did, indeed, feel like an utter idiot for missing such a simple concept.

"You told me to, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to you, Ashworth." Harry got the distinct feeling her snappish reply referred to more than just him telling her to stop calling him an idiot.

He decided not to grace that with a reply, and steered the conversation back on topic. "What exactly is your problem with it? I could just ride the bus all night and see the comings and goings of people I'm interested in."

"Were you fighting a war or managing the magical accident ward at St. Mungo's in the future, Ashworth? Think. Who uses the Knight Bus?"

"I've used it before," he replied defensively. Once, he added silently.

"Yeah? And did you use it because you preferred it over apparating, flooing, or using a portkey? I bet you had no choice. Did you meet anyone noteworthy on the bus?" Not waiting for a reply, she continued, "Ashworth, the only people who use the Knight Bus are squibs, people who have splinched themselves one too many times, or who've crashed their brooms into the ground. Further, they're likely to spend the entire trip sleeping. Way to keep an eye on someone and figure out what they're doing if they're bloody sleeping. You want to keep an eye on people of consequence, get yourself a better job."

"There are people of consequence, and then there's people I'm interested in," Harry argued. Though, in the confines of his own mind, he had to agree with her assessment. Most of the people who were the major players, or would become the major players, were wizards or witches of notable power – not the sort of people who were likely to crash a broom or splinch themselves.

"And do the people you're interested in ride the Knight Bus on a regular basis?" she asked smugly, already secure in her knowledge of the answer.

Harry ground his teeth together, hating to have to admit defeat to her. "No."

"Great. Now that we've established the fact that you need a job where you may associate with the folks whom you have an interest in, we can get somewhere and narrow down the list I have taken the liberty to daw up. Now, where are the majority of the people you're interestd in located at?"

"Probably Hogwarts," Harry admitted slowly, trying to think of everyone he might want to watch out for. Oddly, it seemed that everyone he knew or wanted to know was either at Hogwarts, or somehow associated with Hogwarts, the Board of Governors, or the students at Hogwarts. Some, like Orion and Cygnus Black, weren't affiliated with the school, of course, but he was already connected via Bellatrix, and they knew of him now. Voldemort's future recruits were students at Hogwarts right now. Everyone who would be fighting Voldemort was either attending Hogwarts, teaching at Hogwarts, or affiliated with someone who taught at Hogwarts. In fact, now that he thought about it, pretty much everyone and everything with the exception of Voldemort revolved around Hogwarts. It struck him as odd – surely everything that happened in Britain didn't happen at Hogwarts…right? I think I need to get a social life, Harry concluded. He had spent so much time at Hogwarts that it sure seemed like the world revolved around the ancient castle.

"Well, you're out of luck there," Bellatrix told him. "It's the middle of the term and they're not missing any professors, staff, groundskeepers, or house elves."

Harry nodded quietly, ignoring her implication that Harry might take up a house elf's duties, and considered his options associated with Hogwarts. At first glance, it seemed like an incredibly stupid idea. He had resolved to keep a low profile, changing as little as possible with the exception of ridding the world of Voldemort, but going to Hogwarts for a job would catapult him straight into the spotlight, especially after his encounters with Moody and Dumbledore. He wasn't sure he was on their watch list yet, but he didn't want to risk it.

Of course, that could work both ways. If he was at Hogwarts, he could keep a close eye on everyone there, subtly direct things to his liking while under the guise of . . . of what, exactly? A teacher? A groundskeeper, like Hagrid? If he could convince Dumbledore to hire him and that there wasn't anything suspicious about him, Harry could potentially even nudge and orchestrate the war on Voldemort before the dark wizard ever rose to power in the first place. Besides, Harry thought, the best place to hide something is in plain sight, right?

"I don't suppose you have any idea how much freedom the staff officially has," Harry asked, trying to appear as casual as possible. "I mean, if I were to work at Hogwarts, do you think I'd be free to run errands and leave the castle grounds in the evenings or on the weekends?"

"I already told you, there's no openings," she reminded him acidly.

"Just answer the question." That earned him a harsh glare and a suspicious look from her, which he ignored.

"Fine," she growled after a second. "The staff, as far as I know, is free to leave and do whatever they want as long as they're not teaching a class, though if you're going to take to disappearing at odd hours without being discreet about it, people are going to find it rather strange." She arched an eyebrow. "I'm curious. You know a lot about everything else, including the rest of the school. I thought you went there?"

Harry fought down the urge to shoot back the first reply that came to his mind. Of course he'd gone to Hogwarts, he wanted to shout back, but he realized that was exactly what she was after. She was still prodding him for information. "You didn't mention caretakers," he said, carefully ignoring her question. "Does Hogwarts have a caretaker?" Perhaps Filch had not been hired yet.

"Filch," she practically spat. "I suppose you could tie him up and lock him in a dungeon somewhere and use Polyjuice if you were desperate – but that would involve ingesting his hair. And you didn't answer my question."

Harry grimaced. "I think I just threw up in my mouth," he said, trying to rid himself of the thought of drinking Polyjuice with anything of Filch's in it, all the while deliberately ignoring her barb.

Bellatrix frowned at him, but decided to drop it. "Someone ought to sneak my cousin and that Potter brat a dose of that," she told him, changing the subject, herself. "They'd never be able to look at Polyjuice the same way again."

She eyed him curiously. In the few days since she'd seen him he had clammed up – whether it was because something significant had happened, or because he'd simply wizened up, it didn't matter, but she realized that pushing him for more information before he was ready to give it up would merely alienate him. No, the way to extract information from this enigmatic young man was through subterfuge and reading between the lines. She did keep up her questioning, although with a lot less luster than before, just in case. This was too valuable an opportunity to be wasted by careless planning or sloppy execution, traits that were not acceptable for any Black.

"Well, if there aren't any openings at Hogwarts, what about close around? Some place in Hogsmeade?"

Bellatrix eyed him curiously. He had seemed reluctant to draw attention to himself earlier, so the sudden change caught her by surprise. "There are a few potential listings there. As soon as you're finished we can go."

Harry smirked; he just couldn't help it at the eager tone she was trying – and failing – to hide. Despite her vehement declarations to the contrary and threats to walk away, he now knew he had her hooked, at least for a while. She was interested, and her upbringing to always seek out the best advantage for herself would keep her interested at least until she had more informtion on what he had to offer. She wouldn't walk away or jeopardize her chances with him until she knew what she was throwing away. Of course she would probably try to double-cross him later on, or maybe even play both sides of the conflict, but for now he wasn't going to worry about that. With any luck, there wouldn't be another side in this conflict.

Although he really didn't want her around for now, it would probably be a good opportunity to find out more about the way business was done by the pureblood families, before Voldemort's xenophobia had transformed them into a group of self-absorbed, egocentrical rich bastards. He glanced down at his now cold food.

"I think I'm done."

~!~!~!

Romulus Malfoy was the patriarch of the Malfoy family, father of Lucius Malfoy, and heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. The Malfoy family had been one of many who had seen a radical decline of their wealth and power in the aftermath of two world wars that had left much of the wizarding world in ruins. Years of frittering away their family fortune had left them ill prepared for the toll the reconstruction would take on their coffers – but Romulus Malfoy prided himself on having almost single-handedly re-established the Malfoys as one of the leading families of the wizarding world in Britain, both financially and politically. Much of that was due to his personal connections, and his innate brilliance in using those connections. By all rights, he was a man who knew an opportunity when it came his way. He knew how and when to take it to maximize its benefit to himself, and how to come off clean afterwards.

That kind of finesse and aptitude was what had earned him the attention of a family even older, nobler, and wealthier than his own – the Blacks. Unlike the Malfoys, the Blacks hadn't been as badly affected by the cost of the reconstruction, so much so that it had actually resurrected rumors that they were in possession of a version of the philosopher's stone – the ancient, fabled dream of alchemists that would turn lead into gold. Their seemingly bottomless coffers certainly seemed to support that rumor.

In an ironic turn of events, though, the man who was destined to be Draco Malfoy's grandfather was an avid admirer of Muggles. That wasn't born of any tolerance or kind feelings on his part, though, nor was it due to any sympathies he held for Muggleborn witches and wizards. Like most purebloods, Romulus Malfoy believed himself to be something better than the average wizard and certainly of more value than a mere Muggle – he was just better at hiding it his feelings, because, unlike most of the youth Harry would encounter in his time, he had mastered this simple thing called "tact." No, his admiration for Muggles had an entirely different reason, one he wasn't afraid to admit: their capacity for inventing tools of destruction despite the absence of any magic whatsoever.

As he walked through the lobby of Gringotts, negligently returning the greetings of various acquaintances and goblins he passed, he took a little time to admire the architecture and lavish design of the goblin bank. It was pristine now, as it had been for hundreds of years before, and it was hard to imagine now that, only some thirty years before, the place had been in shambles, littered with debris and bodies of dead goblins and wizards – an unfortunate side-effect of a German bomb that had hit the heart of London. Being invisible hadn't done much for Diagon Alley.

Malfoy loved money and power. The bank and the Malfoy fortune represented the wealth he wanted for himself, but the power . . . he had to give that to the Muggles, however grudgingly. Despite any feelings of superiority, the effects of World War II, which he'd witnessed as a younger man, had left him with the sober realization that Muggles were in the very real position of being able to wipe out the wizarding world. In fact, the Muggles by now were very much capable of wiping themselves off the face of the planet, with the wizarding world an unfortunate piece of collateral damage.

Walking past the lobby filled with goblin tellers and wizards and witches conducting their business, he made his way into a sideroom that was kept in a separate part of the bank for the convenience of the more important customers. Malfoy was no stranger to the conference rooms, but today was the first time he had been summoned to this special lounge for a private meeting with the Black patriarch.

Upon stepping into the lounge, he discovered it to be crowded, much more so than he was accustomed to. A man was seated behind a newspaper in a chair that had been wedged into a corner, while a mother – he suspected she might be one of those lousy Parkinsons – was busy distributing little bottles of pumpkin juice provided by the bank to each of her children. Malfoy cringed. This was a less than ideal setting for the private meeting he supposed Orion Black had in mind. Trying to avoid looking suspicious, he coolly walked over to a rack of magazines, grabbed the first one he could find, and sat down, hoping that the commotion would be over soon.

It didn't take long, but it seemed to him like an eternity until the mother had left, taking her gaggle of chilren with her. Carefully eyeing the room over the top of his magazine, Malfoy glanced at the man in the corner who steadfastly refused to leave. When the room was quiet, leaving the two of them alone, the door clanged shut, and Malfoy could hear the clicks and whirrs of the locks as they snapped into place. Then the man in the corner lowered the newspaper he had been reading.

It was Orion Black.

"The price of discretion can be rather high sometimes," the old man commented, a twisted smile on his lips.

Malfoy was content to nod and return a similar smile. The Black patriarch had always been nearly impossible for him to read, probably the produce of decades of experience playing the games of politics, intrigue, and war. He did like to think, though, that his friendship with the older man went deeply enough that he knew what Orion Black was thinking about current affairs, but deep down he always held himself back. Playing the games of the old families was not something to be taken lightly, but at the very least he was secure in the knowledge that, unlike most others in his position, Orion Black was, above all, an honest man. He was honorable, and Malfoy respected that.

"It would appear that, yet again, a group of our own youth has been involved in another disturbance," the ancient Black family head commented, with a note of resignation in his tone. He passed over the paper he had been reading. "I am not pleased, but most especially, I am worried about their defense of their actions."

Malfoy nodded and skimmed through the copy of the Daily Prophet of two days ago. The front page held a brief article about a fight that had broken out at a wizarding pub in Cardiff. Apparently, a group of young pureblood wizards and witches, mostly fresh out of Hogwarts, had engaged a group of Muggleborn in a fight that had some semi-serious results—a few of the combatants ending up in the hospital. It reeked of people getting drunk and stupid, Malfoy thought to himself, and he voiced that thought.

"On the surface," Orion agreed, reclaiming his newspaper. "Yet this is not the first, nor will it be the last of this sort of occurrence. There is something brewing, and I do not like it. It does not bode well for us."

Malfoy knew that the elder wizard was taking the matter very seriously. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on what was causing the head of one of the most powerful family in the British wizarding world so much concern, he ventured a guess anyway. "You mentioned you don't like their excuses. Are they blaming Muggleborn again?"

Orion Black nodded gravely. "They are," he confirmed.

"That's not the only thing that's concerning you, though," Malfoy noted. "This is only a series of small disturbances. Nothing dramatic about it."

"Except that all of the youth who were apprehended said nearly the exact same thing in their defense."

So that was the sticking point. Malfoy picked up on it as soon as the words had left Black's mouth. "You think someone is organizing them? What would be the point?"

The elder wizard's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Matters are escalating. It was fine as long as they feared the Muggleborn. That fear turned to anger, and someone has managed to turn that anger into hate."

"So . . . what do you think is happening? I can't see someone inciting a riot against Muggles and Muggleborn at this time, not so soon after what happened thirty years ago." Malfoy shuddered at the memories. Back then, the general wizarding populace had no concept of airplanes and bombs and missiles and guns, so when the sky had thundered with the roar of engines overhead, when the heavens had lit up with fire from duelling air forces, when it had begun raining explosive shells, they hadn't known what to do. And they had paid a bitter price for that ignorance.

"Youngsters forget . . . especially those things they have never experienced, themselves," Black said gravely. "There have been incidents not reported in the paper. Of violence against Muggles."

Malfoy knew that the Black family had its sources, and by now he knew to trust those sources. "The Ministry covered them up?"

Black nodded slowly. "There have been a small number of deaths linked to a group of wizards that have thus far remained anonymous. None have been caught."

"You're afraid of a war between Muggles and the wizarding world," Malfoy deducted, appalled at himself for not making the connection sooner. His counterpart's silence confirmed his suspicions. "What would be the point?"

"Is there ever a point in hatred?" Orion Black asked in return. "The youth who have not seen the horrors of war, and only known the discomfort of their own lives, they have always been quick to place the blame on someone else. Something is feeding on it."

"I see. And if they continue, if tensions between us and Muggleborn and Muggles escalate . . ."

"It could lead to the destruction of our world," Black finished for him.

And it truly could, Malfoy knew that the Black patriarch wasn't exaggerating. After the war, the wizarding world had begun investing a lot more time in catching up with what went on in the Muggle world, and they had come to a sobering conclusion: Muggle weapons were potentially far more powerful than they had believed could ever be made, so powerful that some of their weapons could not be guarded against with spells. When the Ministry had first been introduced to guns after the war by their liaison with the British government, the aurors had scoffed at the thought of something so small and light being a threat to them.

That had lasted only until they found out that no one could react fast enough to put up a defensive spell to protect themselves from a bullet flying at them at several thousand feet a second. And even if they could, the speed of the bullet was such that the energy behind it was much more than they had ever anticipated. It all boiled down to basic physics: the kinetic energy a shield had to absorb to protect a wizard scaled with the square of the velocity, something Muggle arms made great use of.

It became even worse then it came to the bombs that had laid waste to much of the wizarding world, without the Germans ever knowing about it. A single five-hundred pound bomb, it was calculated, could deliver a million times the energy a simple Protego shield had the ability to absorb. If they wanted to protect a circle just twenty yards in diameter, the required shield spell would need to be ninety-four million times more powerful than the shield spell taught at Hogwarts – something that was beyond the capability of any wizard, even Merlin himself.

And the worst thing? It didn't stop there. Muggles were always advancing this wondrous thing they called technology, that allowed them to devise bigger bombs that caused yet more destruction. Missiles, that could deliver those bombs from hundreds of miles away, at speeds that no wizard could react to. But the most frightening thing had been when it was revealed that Muggles had mastered the power of the atom, creating radiation that no shield spell known to the wizarding world could protect against.

Right now, Muggles held the ultimate weapons. And while he didn't particularly like them, Romulus Malfoy was a smart enough man to realize when the other party held the trump card – and he gave the Muggles his grudging respect for that.

"We are blind," Black said suddenly. "We can see the symptoms, but finding and understanding the source of this unpleasantness is beyond us. We need someone who can jump into the water and navigate the currents for us. We need someone to watch our youth and tell us what is wrong.

"I see," Malfoy hummed to himself as he thought it over. "Someone young . . . someone the children would respond to, talk to. Maybe even someone this . . . other force would try to approach, try to recruit."

"We would have to be absolutely sure of his loyalty, intelligence, and prowess," Black said, adding qualifications.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "You already seem to have someone in mind. Someone we could turn to."

Orion Black merely arched an eyebrow, gesturing for his friend to continue speaking.

"Are you sure Ashworth is a good choice?" Malfoy asked. "He's an unknown. Do you think he can be trusted?"

"What do you think about him?"

"He's an intriguing young man and he's made it clear that he's looking for opportunity," Malfoy admitted, "but it all seems a little convenient. He appears right as tensions start to break, and he displays great knowledge of current events with insights that go far beyond those of most people his age."

The Black patriarch nodded slowly. "That is surprising, though not entirely unusual. Not all of our youth are uneducated brutes that resort to violence first."

"Do you think he might be the one who's behind all of this? He certainly appears intelligent enough for it. He's also unusually skilled for someone his age, if what our children say is to be believed."

"No." The confidence in Orion Black's voice caught Malfoy by surprise. He was used to the fact that the head of the Black family had his sources, and often had utter confidence in whatever he was saying, but he couldn't be this sure about Ashworth's intentions this soon after meeting him, could he?

"I've had him followed off and on," Black continued matter-of-factly. "He has just barely arrived in this country, and seems genuine about his intentions to find employment. He has no one and knows no one. For all intents and purposes, with the exception of my niece, he is alone in this world. He needs what we could provide for him far more than we actually need him."

"If he's nobody's man, then he is potentially everybody's man," Malfoy observed cautiously.

"All the more reason for us to be the first ones to reach out to him, is it not?"

"I suppose so. Still . . ." Malfoy was surprised his colleague was so eager to recruit this young newcomer into their midst. "You seem to think he can be trusted. Are you sure you're willing to let an unknown variable like him be this close to us . . . and your niece?"

Orion Black scoffed, "I'm not afraid of Harry Ashworth and Bellatrix is perfectly capable of handling herself," Black declared easily. "Though I do not know why she is so determined to associate with a random young man she met in Diagon Alley."

"Perhaps she knows something she's not telling you."

The elder wizard rubbed his chin in thought. He knew that his friend had brought up a good point. With the way the Blacks were raised, to do anything to benefit themselves and the family, sometimes at the cost of others –and in that order – that was a distinct possibility. "Perhaps, but I have yet to see or hear of any sign that he's remotely interested in her."

"He may not be interested in her," Malfoy commented with a barely restrained smirk, "but she might be after him."

That caused the Black patriarch to chuckle, the sound coming out as a rasp from his ancient throat. "Bellatrix?" he asked, almost incredulously. "Fall in love? I doubt it. There are very few things that can touch her heart."

"You mean he's not her type, as they say?"

Black's lips quirked and formed an odd smile. "You might say that no one is her type. However, if she is showing some interest in young Ashworth, calculated or otherwise, then her friends might, too."

"So that's why you want to use him. He's already got one person who's following him around, so others will take an interest in him, as well?" Malfoy leaned back in thought. "That can't be the only reason, though. He has given no reason to be trusted. It's a big chance you'd be taking there, bringing him into our confidence, entrusting him with our interests. Especially since we're not sure that he doesn't have any loyalties to someone else out there."

"I already expressed my confidence that he has no one," Orion stated firmly, "But if you're right, better an enemy unknown next to my niece, than an enemy unknown on his own."

"You're using your niece as bait?" Malfoy smirked; he should have expected something like that from his older colleague. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, indeed, he thought to himself. Given the girl's interest in the young wizard, Malfoy mused, she would most likely be quick to pick up on any changes in his routine that might indicate when something had changed, or when he was up to something. And at the same time, they could make use of Ashworth's services to keep them informed of whatever he could find about what was going on with the pureblood movement. A smile began to spread across Malfoy's face.

"Ashworth is looking for opportunities," Black began. "We ought to consider providing him with some."

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "If he wants a job, then by all means, let's see to it that he gets a job."

A pleased smile crossed Black's face as he folded up his newspaper and slipped into his robes. "Can you see to it that he is advantageously placed?"

Malfoy quickly reviewed all of the possibilities he knew of and even the possibilities that might be created through the use of his well-placed contacts and resources. After a moment, an idea came to him. It was rather underhanded, but he thought he might be able to arrange it without causing too much suspicion to fall on Ashworth or himself. At least, no one would ever be able to prove anything.

Malfoy shot Black a feral smile. "Leave it to me. Ashworth will be employed within a week, and he'll know who to thank."

"That's the first step," Orion commented, standing up and preparing to leave. "Let me know when you've taken care of that. We can then start to make further arrangements."

~!~!~!~!~!

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform 9 ¾ belching a huge cloud of white smoke as those students and their parents who had arrived at the station early said their farewells. Bellatrix was just turning around and picking up her trunk when her father called out to her from near the platform entrance.

"Bellatrix."

She paused and turned her head. "Yes?"

Cygnus Black strode to her, leaned in close to his daughter, and placed his hand on her shoulder—not in an unaffectionate manner. "Keep out of trouble, dear."

"Of course, father."

He smiled weakly at her expectant look. The idea of his coming all the way to the platform to say farewell wasn't fooling her, he knew that, and part of him was proud to have a daughter who was so very perceptive and intelligent. "Your uncle is concerned—things aren't right in the world. Do take care of yourself."

"Always."

Thinking that her father had delivered the message that had brought him to King's Cross, Bellatrix flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and made to turn around again, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

Cygnus spoke quietly. Indeed, his voice was so low that she could barely hear him over the roar of the crowd around them. "Also . . . we'd appreciate it very much if you could keep an eye on that Ashworth fellow."

"Father?"

The mention of Harry's name surprised her. She was still a little disappointed that they hadn't managed to find him a job in Hogsmeade or anywhere close to Hogwarts – in fact, he was still unemployed – and she had been spending the last few days plotting how to smuggle him into the castle, though he had protested that he had no intention of going there if he had no business there. She was thoroughly intrigued by him, and there was no way she was going to let him out of her sight now, except for the fact that she would be going to school, and he would be free to roam about without a job, out of her sight and reach. He could wreak havoc with the timeline, for all she knew, and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"We want to make sure that he doesn't associate with the wrong sort," Cygnus explained nebulously. "I would appreciate it if you would keep me updated on his doings."

Bellatrix sighed in frustration. "I'll be at school, father. I'd love to help, but I've got no idea what he'll be doing, especially since he got rejected for that job at Zonko's." Her eyes narrowed as she began putting the pieces together. Harry's interview with the Zonko's joke shop in Hogsmeade had been rather promising, until he had gotten a letter two days later that announced that they couldn't hire him based on his lack of qualifications. Exactly what qualifications those were, had never been mentioned.

"Don't worry, it's been taken care of," her father told her, which only heightened her suspicions. It was one thing for her father and uncle to request regular information about Harry. It was quite another to take care of things.

"Father, what are you saying?"

"Nothing," his gaze turned vacant for a moment, which she knew meant that he was hiding something, though she could guess what it probably was. Uncle Orion must've arranged something for Harry in Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, she realized, but why would he do that? And why does he want me to keep an eye on him?

Her father came back to the present a moment later, giving her a brief hug before she could formulate a reply. "Be careful, Bellatrix."

And he walked away before she could sort out all the questions she wanted to ask.

7. Wizard, Brewer, Stranger, Spy

A/N: That whole thing about this not being our first priority kind of came and bit us . . . hard. Everyone can rest assured, however, that we're not having plot problems or anything like that. The delay is specifically a time problem. Enjoy. LS

Chapter Six

By:

Lord Silvere and Claihm Solais

The journey to Hogwarts was mostly uneventful for Bellatrix. Instead of choosing to sit in one of the more widely used private compartments, which would have forced her to socialize with other students, she picked one of the public cars that carried a set of benches and the occasional table. Though there were many people around her, most of them kept to themselves. The few that were curious about what Bellatrix Black might be doing in a public train car knew better than to bother her. The arrangement was fine with her because she wanted to be alone so that she could think.

Bellatrix counted herself fortunate that her father had seen her off personally. For one thing, it had meant that she had not had to deal with Lestrange trying to get into her knickers—and she knew that was all he really was after. He lacked the brains to think with anything other than his teenage hormones after all.

Being alone also gave her the opportunity to turn her thoughts to what her father had asked her to do as well as the implications of what he had not mentioned. Her uncle, Orion Black, and her father knew very well that she was going to be at Hogwarts. That could only mean that they were of the opinion that Harry would be within her reach. Thus, it seemed likely that they had made arrangements of some sort.

The train car's door slid open, and Bellatrix groaned as she instantly recognized the newcomers—the source of the loud, incessant, boisterous chattering was unmistakably one or both of the Lestrange brothers. Bellatrix ventured a quick glance over to the door before quickly turning her head away, signaling everyone looking at her that she was deliberately ignoring the posse that was in the process of thundering into the train car. With some dismay she noticed that young Lucius Malfoy was nearly hanging off of Rabastan's every word, while Rodolphus was waving his arms around wildly, no doubt trying to describe one of his fantastically impossible Quidditch exploits.

"Bella!" Rodolphus called when he spotted her, much to her dismay. Talking to him was something she didn't feel like doing right now. In fact, considering what Harry had let slip before leaving the Black party at Christmas, she wasn't sure she even wanted to associate with any of the Lestranges anymore. Her mother was of the opinion that one of them would be a good match for her. They were purebloods and rich, and had a history of being violent, cruel, and ruthless on the battlefield, even if they were equally impotent and lazy in the political arena.

After spending some time around the two, Bellatrix had quickly found out that she and they had irreconcilable differences. Bellatrix valued her own quick wit, skill, and finesse and strictly adhered to the motto that knowledge was power—which was why she was in the top of her class. The Lestrange brothers, however, considered brains to be utterly useless, and it showed – they were all brawn, beaters on the Quidditch team, and brutal to the extreme. They were about as subtle as a sledgehammer, and were likely to use said sledgehammer when but a gentle tap would do perfectly well.

They were also at the very bottom of the class, though not necessarily for a lack of talent. Everyone who would usually have been inclined to make fun of them for their poor marks wisely kept their mouths shut. The three students who had once dared to say a wrong word ended up in the hospital wing with multiple broken bones. Said students had become a fine example and warning to their peers. For Bellatrix, who loved prestige and power—who luxuriated in acknowledgement and accomplishment, someone as unimpressive as them was almost beneath notice.

Thus when Rodolphus noisily made his way over to her, trampling on several students' belongings and feet on the way, she deliberately turned her head and looked out the window.

"Budge over," he urged. When she didn't move, he chuckled self-consciously and repeated himself. "Slide over, Bella."

Bella continued to ignore him, and she could almost hear the mental wheels turning in his head. She calculated the odds that he was likely to end up throwing a tantrum, and suppressed a smirk when she realized that chances were quite high. She stubbornly remained in her seat even when Rodolphus tried to push her over, gently at first, then almost shoving her. She counteracted his attentions with a quietly muttered sticking charm that attached her to the bench, feeling quite proud of her ensuring that he could not move her, though she had to wonder if he would end up trying to ram her off the bench like a wild boar if this continued.

"Bloody hell, girl, move!" he yelled loudly.

Bellatrix finally turned her head, fixing him with an icy glare that sent a shudder down his spine, and spoke one word. "No."

She took great delight in the fact that half of the people in the train car immediately found that they needed to visit other friends in other cars, while the other half paled noticeably.

"Come on, why don't you let me sit next to you?" Rodolphus said, his voice becoming pleading.

Bellatrix maintained her silence and glare until Rodolphus gave up, turning around with an angry shrug and a scowl that threatened bodily harm to anyone who dared remark about his failure to sit down next to his alleged girlfriend. She continued staring at his back until the door shut, then let out a quiet sigh. I'm really starting to hate that bloke, she thought to herself. I mean, who does he think he is? Ordering me around? Me! Treating me as if I was his property—as if Bellatrix Black could belong to anyone.

The train car remained mostly empty for the rest of the trip until the Hogwarts Express reached Hogsmeade, and she left the train with her trunk before anyone could even try to engage her in conversation. She made sure to keep an eye on the Lestranges and made a point to avoid their location, instead choosing to ride in a carriage with three unfortunate second-years who were ready to flee in terror by the time they arrived at Hogwarts.

She was still wondering what her uncle could have arranged – she knew this wasn't her father's work; while she respected him, she knew he didn't have the sharp mind or the clout her uncle wielded. Orion Black was a masterful manipulator who could engage in games of intrigue and subterfuge without anything ever being traced back to him. In fact, that was his style and he reveled in it. With the political firepower of an Orion Black behind him, Harry Ashworth could end up nearly anywhere, even as the Minister of Magic, but it had to be something less ambitious, something less recognizable, if he was planning on changing the future.

Her answer concerning Harry's placement came the moment she stepped into the Great Hall and glanced at the head table. Bellatrix's abrupt halt occurred so suddenly that the person behind slammed into her back, nearly sending her pitching forward. Under usual circumstances, she would have turned around and retaliate, but she was too stunned at the sight before her to even contemplate that.

Sitting at the staff table, right between Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, in the chair usually occupied by Horace Slughorn, was Harry Ashworth. She continued to stare at him until he noticed her in the crowd. He gave her a weak smile and shrugged. His expression communicated to her he was as surprised as she was by his being at Hogwarts, and she could all but feel the nervous energy radiating off of him.

Bellatrix regained her composure and strode towards the Slytherin table, taking her usual seat. She had schooled her features into neutrality again, but her mind was reeling with the revelation. When in Merlin's name had he gotten a job at Hogwarts? For that matter, when the bloody hell had Slughorn lost his job? There hadn't been any openings before, and Slughorn's absence meant that Harry was here to replace him—her head shot up abruptly. They couldn't have . . . she thought, her eyes wide. It was quite possibly within her uncle's influence to have a teacher fired, though he had no desire to interfere with Hogwarts or its headmaster.

Bellatrix was even so distracted that she even failed to notice her sister Narcissa flirting with Lucius Malfoy two seats down, something that would have earned Narcissa at least some criticism otherwise. Harry's presence on the staff table left her mind with one burning question: what did her uncle think Harry Ashworth was worth, if he was willing to risk tangling with Dumbledore?

The chattering around her ceased suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts. The headmaster stood at the head table, his expression grave instead of jovial. "We welcome you back for the remainder of this school year." he said. "Among the reminders I usually give to you after the holiday, there is an extra announcement I must make. Our very own Professor Slughorn recently met with an unfortunate accident. Though the incident was far from life threatening, I regret to inform you that it has left Professor Slughorn unable to return to his normal duties for a certain amount of time."

Whispers broke out among the students and Bellatrix noticed that Lestrange and his friends were giving each other significant looks. Bellatrix didn't understand why they would be sensitive to something as simple as an idiot potions master having an accident. On the other hand, Bellatrix realized that odds were that it was no accident—but Lestrange and his friends didn't know what she did.

Dumbledore continued his announcement as soon as the whispering had died down. "During his absence, Professor Slughorn's classes will be taught by Harry Ashworth."

Bellatrix frowned, glancing between Harry and Dumbledore. Though Harry had been hired, it didn't sound like Dumbledore had been terribly enthusiastic about the prospect. If Slughorn had really been sent out of commission only a few days ago, whatever Orion did must have quite literally forced Harry down the headmaster's throat. The next words from the headmaster's mouth only served to reinforce her suspicions.

"Mr. Ashworth comes . . . highly recommended," Dumbledore stated, glanced over at Harry with an unreadable expression. "I am assured that he will be an excellent teacher."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at this. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't – judging from what she had seen of him, she was willing to bet he had little idea how to manage a classroom full of rowdy students. It left her with the question as to what her father and uncle saw in Ashworth. How had they had known or sensed that there was something to be had in associating with him? She was certain that he hadn't told them he was a time traveler from the future, and he had not made contact with anyone else as far as she knew.

She frowned at that thought. As far as she knew. She would have to talk to him, and soon. If someone else knew who he really was, then she had to step up her game. It wouldn't do at all to let someone else reap the benefits of his time travel. He was hers; she had found him first, after all.

During the course of the meal, Bellatrix made a half-hearted attempt to join with her fellow Slytherins in conversation, mostly as a cover as she tried to listen to them talk and get a feel for their thoughts on Harry. Most of them were indifferent, which she had expected, considering that they didn't particularly care who taught what, as long as they got their grades in the end. Some were boisterously hostile, thinking that someone that young and clearly nervous would be easy pickings for them – Bellatrix made a mental note to talk to Harry about wearing his emotions on his sleeve. He was an open book she could read with ease as could, no doubt, others.

It was the select few that she had chosen to surround herself with because they had more brains than the average garden slug that worried her. Lucius Malfoy, for one, had a good head on his shoulders despite the fact that he was younger. He was shaping up to become a master at manipulating people to get what he wanted – not nearly as good as herself, of course, but good enough. The fact that he was ignoring her sister's advances when she knew he was interested in Narcissa told her he was smart enough to play hard to get for her younger sister.

Then there was Severus Snape. The kid already knew more about potions, both mundane and exotic, than most professors, and definitely more than Slughorn ever had. Bellatrix knew that his indifference and aloofness hid a keen intellect that was only betrayed by his piercing eyes. If anyone was going to pick up on the fact that Harry shouldn't be here, it would be either one of them. Glancing to the side where the Lestranges sat with their friends, Bellatrix hesitantly dismissed them as threats. Rodolphus and Rabastan were much too self-absorbed to be bothered with rooting out the background of an odd potions professor. Knott had no interest in potions, and Parkinson was too busy hanging off of Knott's arm to notice anything.

Deciding that she would have to make the first move, Bellatrix waited for the feast to end before quickly excusing herself from her own little clique. She made her way toward the staff table, doing her best to appear casual while trying to catch Harry's attention. He spotted her easily enough and, fortunately, had the foresight to move to a quiet space near the far corner of the table "How in Merlin's name did you get here?" she hissed as soon as she was close enough, taking care to look around and check that no one was within earshot.

"Malfoy," Harry replied quietly. "I had mentioned to him that I was looking around for something at that party of yours. He heard about Slughorn's accident and thought of me. Arranged it all."

"Malfoy?" Bellatrix asked, frowning. There was no doubt in her mind that Malfoy had, indeed arranged it all. But then that meant her uncle was working together with the elder Malfoy, which was too much of a coincidence. No, there was something deeper behind it, and she would have to be careful when digging with her father and uncle. "Do you even know anything about potions?"

Harry grimaced. "Not especially, but I didn't really want to pass it up. It can't be too hard." Well, it can't be too hard without Snape breathing down my neck just waiting for me to screw up and take off points, he thought to himself.

"I'll see if I can help you out," Bellatrix breathed urgently. Things were moving too quickly – and although it wouldn't be a good thing for Harry to become a pawn in one of her uncle's schemes, or Malfoy's, for that matter – he was here now, and they had to make the most of it. Harry appearing incompetent in front of the students wasn't a big deal. However, his appearing incompetent in front of Dumbledore, and thus causing him to begin questioning why Malfoy had pushed for Harry's acceptance at Hogwarts would no doubt cause all sorts of havoc. It might even force Malfoy and her uncle to accelerate their plans, whatever their plans were.

"We'll see," Harry said, not particularly eager to take her up on her offer. "Look, I've got to go now. Dumbledore asked me to stop by his office. I think the manner in which I've been added to his staff annoyed him slightly. He can't appreciate Malfoy doing his hiring for him."

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded, thinking quickly. "Do acknowledge that Malfoy's arranging this is irregular if Dumbledore brings up the subject or seems to be thinking about it, but act as if you're really grateful for the job and be thankful. And please, don't let him know you don't have a clue about teaching potions."

Harry bit back a scathing remark at her insistence to choreograph his every move. While it was convenient to have an ally – even if only temporarily, until she got what she wanted – who knew the lay of the land, it wasn't as if he was inexperienced and didn't know how to deal with Dumbledore. He kept himself to a curt, "Right," before turning around.

He knew all too well how to deal with Dumbledore.

~!~!~!~!

"Every Flavour Bean," Harry muttered at the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. He was glad that this time, at least, he wouldn't have to guess the password. He could only imagine how silly he must have looked that one time standing in front of the figurine and yelling out the names of every sort of sweet, both Muggle and magical alike, that he knew.

"Come in," Dumbledore called out as soon as the gargoyle had fully moved out of the way and Harry had ascended the staircase and knocked on the office's door.

Harry entered the office, closing the door behind him quietly. He gave the ancient wizard a weak smile, but couldn't really find any words to say as he nervously approached the desk.

"Mr. Ashworth," Dumbledore greeted him neutrally. "Please, have a seat."

Harry sat. There wasn't much else he could do at this point, except wait to see what Dumbledore had to say.

"We meet again."

"So we have," Harry agreed.

Dumbledore stroked his beard and reached for a small glass bowl with his free hand. Holding it up to Harry, he smiled benignly. "Lemon drop?"

"Err – no, thanks," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. He had tried one once, and never again.

"Tell me, Harry – may I call you Harry?"

"Sure."

Dumbledore nodded and took a piece of candy. "So tell me, Harry, how is it that one such as you makes the acquaintance of Romulus Malfoy and impresses him enough to receive such a sterling recommendation only a week or so later?"

At least his tone wasn't accusatory – yet. But Harry knew that Dumbledore was curious, and he had to defuse that curiosity immediately—nip it in the bud, before it grew and the headmaster started digging and found out that Harry Ashworth didn't really exist. "Miss Black kindly arranged for me to be invited to a Christmas party because I was new in the country. She seemed rather eager for me to get to know her acquaintances."

Sticking to the basic truth would hopefully minimize any future contradictions in his cover story, Harry decided. "I met Mr. Malfoy there and mentioned that I was currently looking to explore and expand my horizons, since I had not yet decided on a line of work. I hadn't expected to hear from him again, but he contacted me two days ago and told me that there was an opening on your staff, if I was qualified."

"I see."

Harry shrugged, not really perturbed by the headmaster's noncommittal answer. Dumbledore's posture was still relaxed, his eyes intrigued, but not suspicious yet. "I really wanted to thank you again for having me; I know it cannot be easy trusting someone whose skills you know nothing about with your students."

"Of course," Dumbledore acknowledged graciously, though he wasn't really looking at Harry anymore. In fact, he was staring off into space, and, Harry, thought, seemed distracted with something. "You are welcome, Harry, though I have to be frank. Your position here is only temporary until Horace recovers from his . . . malady. It's nothing personal."

"I understand," Harry replied easily, "as it is, I am already grateful for the chance to be here. Perhaps, by the time Mr. Slughorn returns, I will have found another opportunity." Harry stopped himself before he mentioned that he was probably more qualified to teach DADA than potions, but decided that drawing Dumbledore's attention to that particular set of skills right now probably wasn't a good idea.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck with your ongoing search," Dumbledore said as he reached for a stack of papers and handed them to Harry. "As you are no doubt aware, Potions is one of the core subjects taught at Hogwarts. Unlike an elective it is an important requirement for the OWLs and NEWTs, which are our standardized tests here in Britain." He glanced at Harry over the rim of his glasses. "Mr. Malfoy hinted at the fact that you are familiar with our schooling system?"

"I am," Harry admitted. "Unlike the system in the United States, the Australian schooling system is very much like the British. It's been a while since I have heard some of the terms used, but I do remember them well enough."

"Good, good. Now, it is imperative that your students do well on their tests, though, especially if they have high career ambitions."

"Right." Harry absently wondered if Dumbledore had ever bothered to give this speech to Snape. If he had, the greasy-haired potions master apparently had not listened very well.

Dumbledore continued, glancing through another set of papers that Harry immediately recognized as a copy of his forged schooling documentation that he had provided Malfoy upon request. "It would be comforting for me to know that you, yourself, had earned your OWL and NEWT majoring in Potions, but as Mr. Malfoy reminded me, you have not actually been schooled in Britain." Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "Though I suppose your work at foreign schools will suffice and has rendered you competent."

The blank stare Dumbledore gave him wasn't outright hostile or suspicious, it was more of an evaluating gaze that told Harry the headmaster didn't know what to do with him just yet, and would wait and see how he performed before passing judgment. Although, Harry could almost hear the unspoken words. If you're incompetent, we'll find out soon enough.

"I am," Harry said with more confidence than he felt. In fact, he hadn't even taken his NEWTs. School had been closed well before the end of his seventh year because the war had escalated, and students of all ages had taken up arms against Voldemort's forces – or for him, as the case had been. It had been sobering to see so many young faces on both sides of the conflict, a conflict that, in reality, belonged to the generation that came before then.

"All right," Dumbledore nodded. "I've included a number of things you may find useful, especially with it being the middle of the term. On top, you'll find a list of potions and the curriculum that the fifth and seventh years must have mastered in order to pass their OWLs and NEWTs, respectively. There is also a copy of Professor Slughorn's lesson plans for all the classes he was teaching. The plans, unfortunately, are not quite as up to date as they ought to be, so you will likely have to discuss with the individual classes what material they have covered and which they have yet to cover."

"Thank you," Harry said, idly thumbing through the papers, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't have to make up entire lesson plans for a subject he didn't even really like. At the very least, he knew that he could look up the things he didn't know in the library as they were outlined by the lesson plans. Skimming through them briefly while the headmaster talked, Harry suddenly realized with some dread that he would inevitably be spending a lot of time reading potions books.

"One more thing," Dumbledore noted, "although the fifth and seventh years are the only years to take standardized tests, I highly suggest that you follow the lesson plans outlined by Professor Slughorn for the others years. He has also left records of previous years in his office. I would advise you to take a look at them, so that you can teach your students to the best of your ability."

Though there was no skepticism in his tone, Harry knew that Dumbledore was internally wondering if he really was capable of teaching this class. So do I, Harry thought to himself. Worst case, he mused, he could always follow Snape's example and put the recipe on the board, then let the class do their thing in silence. Someone was bound to get it right, and he could grade everyone else off of that.

The rest of the meeting passed quickly, as Dumbledore only had a few more arrangements to discuss as he assigned Harry an office and apartment. By the time he left half an hour later, he was finally ready to begin his new duties as a substitute staff teacher at Hogwarts.

~!~!~!~

"I don't like it one bit," Moody growled angrily, gesturing the barkeep for another round of ale.

Dumbledore had arrived at the Three Broomsticks late on the first night of the new term to find the grizzled old auror drowning his suspicions in alcohol. Even though the headmaster could agree that Slughorn's sudden "accident" and Ashworth's subsequent appointment to the Hogwarts staff at the behest of the Malfoy and the Board of Governors was slightly suspicious, he couldn't seem to find the energy to worry about it.

"Aren't you being a little paranoid, Alastor?" Dumbledore commented as he sat down and waved away the waitress when she asked him if he'd like to order anything. The large dinner at Hogwarts had left him more than satisfied.

"It's suspicious," Moody argued, coughing around a gulp of ale. "I can see Slughorn having an accident, but everything put together is just far too convenient. We've got Malfoy pushing things around to get an unknown and potentially dangerous young man into our midst. It's practically impossible for him not to have an ulterior motive."

"Romulus has always been too underhanded for his own good," Dumbledore agreed, "but there isn't enough information to form a connection right now. Mr. Ashworth claims he only met Romulus briefly and mentioned he was looking for a job. There is a perfectly good chance that it is all legitimate." He only wished he could believe his own words, he wanted to believe them. The last thing they needed right now was to deal with an internal threat because Malfoy had developed an interest in Hogwarts internal affairs.

"It's got to be some kind of plot," Moody muttered. "Maybe he's here to spy on us. He may even be an assassin."

The headmaster shrugged tiredly. "As far as I know, Mr. Ashworth hasn't associated with Romulus Malfoy enough for there to even be a plot. Ashworth's only connection in Britain seems to be a passing acquaintance with the Black family. If there was a ploy, it certainly would be coming from that direction."

"As far as you know," Moody insisted. "And who knows who's pulling Malfoy's string? Orion Black could be manipulating both Malfoy and Ashworth from different directions. He is a lot craftier than you seem to give him credit for."

"Even Orion Black would have trouble manipulating Romulus. No, it would be much easier for the Black family to take matters into their own hands than to convince Romulus to be their middle man."

"So you're perfectly all right with an unknown variable sitting at your staff table, who, as far as we know, could be plotting to plunge a knife into your back at any moment?" Moody growled, taking a large swig from his mug.

"In all honesty, Alastor, I see no reason to worry about that." Dumbledore said, shrugging ever so slightly. "Young Mr. Ashworth doesn't particularly strike me as the assassin sort, and he's certainly displayed nothing to give us reason for suspecting that he has nefarious motives."

"The best assassin is the one who doesn't appear to be one."

"That may well be, but in my conversations with him, I didn't detect any evil in him. He seemed perfectly polite, if a little nervous. Certainly not the demeanor of a professional hit wizard."

Moody eyed the ancient wizard suspiciously. "He also seems to know an awful lot about the school and Britain in general, for someone who has never been here before."

Dumbledore didn't have an answer for that and remained silent for a while. "True," he finally admitted, "but until Mr. Ashworth proves to be untrustworthy, I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt. If I let myself get distracted over Ashworth, I'll end up neglecting my other duties. We currently have more serious issues in the Wizengamot."

Moody nodded curtly, understanding perfectly well what Dumbledore was getting at. "I suppose the affairs of state are more important than the existence of an odd young man. And it isn't as if he's out on the streets causing havoc—unlike certain other young people."

"You never know," Dumbledore said slowly. "But as far as I can see now, the improper hiring of a substitute Potions teacher is the least of my concerns. Even if Malfoy is plotting something against Hogwarts or me, there is enough trouble brewing among the pureblood families to keep him occupied. As for Mr. Ashworth . . . if he is capable, so be it. If not, he'll be replaced when Horace recovers and returns."

~!~!~!~!

Harry arrived in the Potions classroom the next morning well before his first class was due to start. He would have the pleasure of teaching the fourth year Slytherin and Gryffindor classes, something he looking forward to with a certain amount of trepidation. As far as he knew, the rivalry between the two houses was just as bad now as it had been in his time. He felt fortunate that he had the lesson plans and teaching materials supplied by the headmaster. It would alleviate his stress a little bit. In addition, he at least possessed a passing familiarity with many of the potions, and had enjoyed being able to pick one he actually knew a little more about for his first attempt at teaching.

Deciding to take a clue from Professor Snape, he wrote the recipe for the chosen potion on the chalkboard and then hid it behind an illusion charm. It didn't take long after he had finished with that for the first students to filter into the room, and Harry realized why the Snape of his day liked to stride into the classroom after all the students had arrived and were settled in. As it was, he could feel every pair of eyes on him, some with interest, some with condescension, but all of them curious. Harry made a show of studying a random textbook in an attempt to avoid direct eye contact until the bell rang.

When the time had come, he looked up, all of his carefully planned first words forgotten as he stared at the collection of faces staring back at him from the rows of students. Sitting in the first row, side-by-side – or, at least, as side-by-side as a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could get – were Severus Snape and a woman whose face he had only seen in photographs. Despite the fact that she was much younger now, there was no mistaking her long, red hair and vivid green eyes that were staring right back at him: Lily Evans.

Two rows behind them were even more familiar faces. Occupying two benches next to each other were the four Marauders. Sirius was unmistakable, with his unruly black hair and roguish grin, and Remus Lupin looked as scraggy now as he would decades in the future. Harry knew that the pudgy young man sitting next to Lupin was Peter Pettigrew, recognizing him as he stared a little harder. Realizing that he had been staring, he moved his gaze to James Potter, who was trying to bore a hole in the back of Snape's head with a glare.

Despite the fact that they'd already met, this was the first time Harry took the time to study his father carefully. He could see why a lot of people told him he was his father's spitting image, because, looking at the young James Potter, Harry felt as if he was staring at a mirror. However, there were subtle differences. The eyes were blue, instead of green, and there was a demeanor to James Potter that Harry figured he had never had – a sort of straightness to his spine, a sort of feeling of superiority or invincibility that came from the knowledge that he was the better man. Harry idly wondered where that had come from, then stopped when he realized that he should probably start the class.

"Well . . ." he began, looking for the right words. "Welcome back from the holidays.

The class stared at him wordlessly.

Harry cleared his throat and started again, determined not to let a group of fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds intimidate him. "As you know, I am Harry Ashworth I shall be your substitute Potions instructor until further notice."

Pettigrew raised a hand.

"Yes?" Harry nodded at him.

"Uh . . . aren't you the bloke that wiped out that bunch of people fighting in Diagon Alley around Christmas?"

"The reports are exaggerated, I'm sure," Harry said. "I certainly did not 'wipe out' anyone. But yes, I was there."

A couple of loud snorts that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter followed that pronouncement, and Harry quickly traced it to James Potter and Sirius Black. He glared at them, doing his best to put on his best Snape face. "Did you two have something to say?"

"No, not at all," Sirius replied casually as James shook his head.

Harry kept the two fixed with his stare, refusing to be intimidated by the fact that he was staring down his father and godfather. Dammit, I'm the adult here, and they're the children, he thought to himself.

His concentration was broken when he realized someone else was staring at him from the side. Turning around and instinctively finding the source of that stare with reflexes honed by years of battle, he discovered his mother looking at him intently, her brow furrowed suspiciously. Fine, I'll do her, too, Harry thought before realizing how that sounded. He barely managed to suppress the urge to retch at that. "Did you have a question, Miss. . .?" he asked.

"Evans," she supplied perfunctorily. "Just where are you from?"

He absently noted that no one had yet addressed him as "professor" yet, not that he really cared, but it meant that he would have to either intimidate this class into following his instructions, or persuade them some other way. Briefly running through his false identity in his mind to avoid potential conflicts, he replied. "Australia. I've travelled a lot, though, so you might actually pick up on a slight American accent."

"Have we met before?"

"No," Harry replied quickly, realizing too late that perhaps he had answered too quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not quite sure I understand, Miss Evans. Was there a point to your question?"

"Just because you're from some other country doesn't mean I couldn't possibly have met you before. It's perfectly possible that I've travelled to one of the places you've been to and ran into you there," Lily informed him, her tone rather precocious.

"So, have you travelled someplace and seen me there?" Harry asked, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Lily seemed to take a moment to think, a puzzled expression on her face, but soon answered. "I've been to a lot of places with my family, but I don't remember seeing you in any of them."

"Then you have your answer, Miss Evans," Harry said, preparing to move onto the lesson. "Now—,"

"But I still have the feeling that I've met you before."

"Whatever," Harry muttered, rubbing his temples. "If you happen to remember, let me know." Good luck remembering the future, mother.

With a negligent wave of his wand, Harry removed the illusion from the board and revealed the potion recipe. "Your assignment for today's class," he said by way of explanation. "Finish it before you leave, label the bottle with your name, and leave it on my desk." As an afterthought born from his not wanting to be completely like Snape, he added, "If you have questions, I will assist you."

While the class erupted into a sort of controlled chaos as the students began their work, Harry settled down in his chair and wondered what he would do if they didn't get it right. A sigh of disgust drew his attention, and Harry immediately recognized the source: Severus Snape. The look on his face made it clear that he thought this potion was beneath him, and Harry was sorely tempted to dock points from Slytherin.

"Sir," Lily called out approaching his desk as other students began working, "I'm not sure we're supposed to be brewing this potion today."

The headache turned into a pounding migraine. "Does it really matter?" he asked, doing his best to keep a level tone.

"Well, we're supposed to learn them in a certain order. Didn't the headmaster give you any of Professor Slughorn's lesson plans?"

Now I know how Snape feels when Hermione is on a trip, Harry thought, almost feeling sorry for the man now sitting on the other side of his desk. As much as he loved Hermione as a friend, sometimes she drove even him up the wall with the way she was planning things to the extreme and got upset when those plans were not followed exactly.

Harry half-heartedly found the pile of papers that he'd looked at. "Yes, he did. And for your information, Miss Evans, that potion is marked in the lesson plan for this semester, signed off by the headmaster himself."

"But sir . . ."

Harry really needed a painkiller now. Glancing at and noting the way in which Snape was looking at the board with barely disguised boredom, Harry knew that at least Snape would get it right. For once in his life, he was grateful for the snarky future potions master. Deciding that he needed to nip this in the bud before it became worse, he stood and picked up the fourth-year textbook, preparing to mount the first defense of his teaching methods.

"Seeing that I am new to this class, and I have no idea where Professor Slughorn left off, I feel that I need to evaluate the skills of you and your classmates before making a decision about what to teach next. According to your textbook, this potion is perfectly acceptable for your grade and level."

"But we didn't—,"

"Miss Evans," Harry said slowly, desperately trying to hide from her the effort it took to hide how nervous he was. "While I appreciate your attempts to help, I would much prefer it if you got started. Now."

The remainder of the class passed in relative silence, though Harry did notice that Snape seemed to be looking at him with far less disdain than he had when he had first walked into the room. Now that's a scary thought, Harry mused, me, being Snape's role model. Ten minutes before class was scheduled to end, the last of the students had placed their finished potion on his desk, and Harry decided to dismiss the class early. He was rewarded with a brief cheer from the class and, as they left, got the feeling that they didn't hate him.

Thankful for small victories, he tried to figure out how he was supposed to grade the two dozen potions that were left on his desk. Holding each of them up against the light, he soon realized there was going to be a huge issue with that, since all of them were a different color and consistency. Feeling like banging his head against a brick wall, Harry opted to drop his head into his arms, instead.

"How the in Merlin's name am I to grade these?" Harry wondered out loud. He knew only the appropriate color for the finished product, not having really examined or used samples of the potion in his time.

Snape, he thought suddenly. He must've gotten it right. Searching through the flasks until he found the correct one, he held it up to the light and let out a relieved sigh when it was the appropriate color. Recalling that Dumbledore had once told him his mother was brilliant at potions, he found hers too, and smiled in relief when it matched both Snape's and his understanding of what the potion ought to look like. He now had two samples to grade against.

What are the odds I can do this for all other potions I'm going to go over? He idly wondered. Odds were, in fact, good that he could do this. After all, both Snape and his mother couldn't both be wrong at the same time. With that thought in mind, he set the samples aside and began prepare for the next class.

By the time they arrived, Harry was in a much better mood than he had been earlier that morning. His introduction went over without pithy remarks or questioning looks from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He gave them the same potion to work on as he had the previous class, expecting another argument, but he was pleasantly surprised when the students shrugged, accepted his explanation that he needed to gauge their level, and went to work without complaint. By the end of the class, he had a dozen more samples that looked like the ones made by Snape and Lily, and he was confident that he could use them to effectively grade both classes.

He was in high spirits upon arriving in the Great Hall for lunch and was looking forward to his next class. If things keep going like this, this is going to be a walk in the park, Harry thought. He went through lunch in a good mood until he realized that his next class was NEWT Potions for the sixth-years. Harry began to wish that Snape was in one of those classes, because then he would at least have one person whom he was reasonably certain would get the assignments right.

Thinking of putting Snape in an advanced class gave Harry an idea. Working a few things out and scribbling a handful of notes on a napkin, Harry leaned back and enjoyed the rest of his lunch break..

When he returned to his classroom, he found, to his surprise, that Bellatrix was already there. "Aren't you a little early for class?" he asked.

"For class, yes," she replied. "However, I wanted to talk to you before, to make sure you know what you're doing. If you screw up, that makes our situation tougher."

"Our, eh?" Harry commented, amazed at the amount of sarcasm he managed to hold back.

Bellatrix ignored Harry's tone and continued. "I've interviewed a number of students you taught this morning – subtly, of course. It seems you're doing a fairly good job. Most of them like you. Surprisingly, I even heard good things from some of the Slytherins about you. The only down side is that a few of them seem to think that you're a little bit dim."

"Dim?" Harry muttered under his breath.

"That's perfectly all right," Bellatrix commented casually. "Lots of famous and powerful people have been dim. Sometimes it was even an advantage."

"That they think I'm dim?" Harry grumbled. "I thought I was trying to be nice."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Anyway, I was going to say that that's not necessarily a bad thing. If you appear nice and simple, perhaps a little dim, no one is going to think you're a threat to them."

Harry muttered something intelligible. He didn't like the idea of establishing a reputation of stupidity. "It doesn't help me if everyone thinks I'm utterly incompetent."

"Of course," Bellatrix agreed, "we'll have to prevent that. We don't need you appearing like an idiot in front of my family."

"Your family?" Harry glanced at her oddly.

Bellatrix looked startled and Harry caught her faint blush. "Nothing," she caught herself quickly. "Other students will be arriving soon. You better get to it."

Harry was suspicious, but decided not to call her on it as she walked back to her chair. A few minutes later the remainder of the students arrived, and a brief look around the room told Harry that he was going to have his work cut out for him. A lot of the faces were familiar here, too – though not so much from family photos, but the battlefield.

Remembering that he had fought – and won against–some of the people in his class in the future helped Harry gather the determination to appear every bit the caustic, hard, and strict teacher that Snape would turn out to be. "Welcome back from your holidays," he announced. "This second half of the year will be run a bit different than what you may be used to. We have a number of potions left for this year, and it's my responsibility to drill them into you to get you ready for your NEWTs. You'll be split into groups, and I will assign each group a set of potions to study, master, and make. You will then present your findings and the potions you made to the rest of the class. Presentations will begin Monday of next week. Since that is relatively short notice, I am willing to accept volunteers for that group and award extra credit."

The students seemed to think that this was a decent idea and class was soon off to a good start. Harry felt quite productive as he divided up the potions and class periods and then assigned them to each student. There was soon a productive hum coming from the students as they worked in their groups to master their assigned potions.

This might not be so bad after all, Harry thought.

~!~!~!~!

Professor Binns droned on and most of the students slept. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was taking the opportunity to write a carefully worded letter to her father. She had been able to take some time to consider her conversation with her father on the train platform and had concluded that her father and uncle's concern of Harry associating with the wrong sort probably indicated that they were considering the possibility of bringing him into their confidence.

While Bellatrix was wary of allowing Harry Ashworth to become a pawn of Orion Black, she had nothing against the opportunities a Black-Ashworth connection would bring her. For one thing, she could play her games from within the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, as well as through Harry. There was also the change of her becoming privy to things that not even Orion shared with her father. Of course, this all hinged on Harry cooperating with her.

With Orion Black behind him, Harry could do great things—and if one were to take into account the fact that Harry had mentioned he had inherited the entire Black estate in the future, it would only help to get in on what the old man might be up to.

Thus, Bellatrix was now penning, or rather, scratching out with her quill, a letter of recommendation of sorts. The key was to prevent her father from realizing that it was such a letter. Her goal was to come off as being a disinterested daughter duly, though perhaps prematurely, carrying out a father's request for information.

Dear Father,

With regard to Harry Ashworth:

The Headmaster seemed a little chuffed at Ashworth being added to the staff, but no one else really seems to mind. Ashworth generally comes off as being a rather mild and agreeable chap, despite everyone remembering or being reminded of his interfering with that fight back in Diagon Alley.

It does not appear that Potions is Ashworth's forte. Fortunately though, he seems to have gotten into the rhythm of things. He is able to teach the younger years with little trouble and the fourth and fifth years with only moderate difficulties. For the sixth and seventh years, he has turned the learning experience into more of a team effort. Doing this has not made the class easy, but he seems to have gained respect from at least the wiser students.

As far as Ashworth associating with the right sort, I don't think you have to worry. I seem to be the only person he knows—all the other students and staff being only acquaintances that he treats neutrally.

I shall try to keep you updated between my schoolwork,

Your daughter,

Bellatrix

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry sank into an armchair in front of the fireplace in his personal fireplace. The chair was a little too cushy for his tastes, but he wasn't about to complain as he allowed himself to relax, silently congratulating himself on surviving his first week as a teacher at Hogwarts. Aside from that first day, he hadn't felt the urge to strangle anyone, done his best to curb the Marauders' antics, and, most importantly, he didn't think anyone had complained about him. Now it was Friday night, and he was looking forward to a weekend free of classes, although he would likely be spending most of Saturday trying to figure out how to grade the assignments for this past week and what to do for the coming few classes.

"And I thought sitting on the other side of the classroom was hard work," he muttered to himself, having gained a whole new appreciation for teachers.

The roar of his fireplace roused him from his introspection as the flames turned green and Romulus Malfoy's head appeared inside. "Mr. Ashworth. I was hoping I would catch you. How are you this fine evening?" the Malfoy patriarch asked pleasantly.

Harry blinked at the sudden appearance of Malfoy's floating, disembodied head, wondering why his benefactor would be calling him at Hogwarts. "Not bad, thank you. And yourself?"

"I'm well. How was your first week teaching?" Malfoy inquired, surprising Harry with the sincerity in his tone.

"Not bad, actually," Harry replied honestly, "it's taken some getting used to, but I'm glad for the work. Thank you again for arranging things."

Malfoy smiled, and Harry could tell where Lucius had gotten his creepy smirk from. "Don't mention it. I merely heard that a position at Hogwarts had opened up, and suggested you for the post. The Board of Governors are the ones who deserve your thanks more than me.

"I will make sure to thank them, as well, when I see them, then," Harry said, wondering just how many on the board were in Malfoy's pocket. Still, he was grateful to the man, and he didn't seem like the evil sort. Well, Harry amended, he was scheming and manipulative, but that was to be expected. Unlike the Lucius of the future, though, he wasn't outright evil. Harry idly wondered what Draco would say if he knew that Harry had made friends with his grandfather. It would be rather amusing if Harry could tell Draco that said grandfather considered him a disgrace.

Malfoy paused for a moment, then spoke, perhaps a little too casually. "Say, Ashworth, why don't you come over to the Manor tonight? It's the weekend, there isn't any work that you're likely to get done tonight, and I would be very interested in hearing how my son is doing in school."

"Sure," Harry answered after a brief moment of hesitation. He wasn't really certain why Malfoy would suddenly invite him into his home, but turning him down at this point likely wouldn't win him any points. He knew that Malfoy had a hidden agenda somewhere. Harry expected it, even. He just hoped that, whatever it was, it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass later.

"Excellent!" Malfoy nodded. "Would half an hour work for you?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Just call for Malfoy Manor in the floo. I'll be expecting you, Mr. Ashworth. I'm looking forward to our chat."

"So am I. I'll be right over."

Malfoy smiled and was gone from the fire. Harry lingered in the chair for a bit, wondering what Malfoy could possibly have invited him over for, then rose from his chair and went for his wardrobe. Perhaps his extended shopping trip with Bellatrix had been a good thing, after all. The clock chimed the half-hour mark, and Harry realized after getting dressed that he only had five minutes left until he had to leave.

Before he could reach for the floo powder on top of the fireplace, though, a knock on his door stopped him dead in his tracks. "Who's coming to visit me now?" he muttered to himself, setting the can of floo powder back in its place and heading for the door.

"Yes?" he asked, even before he'd fully opened the door. "Miss Evans . . ." he trailed off, quickly catching himself. "What can I do for your?" What does she want, he thought to himself.

Lily nimbly sidestepped him and moved into his living room, causing Harry to arch an eyebrow at the uninvited intrusion. She simply seemed to take him inviting her inside as a given, without waiting for it to actually happen. It certainly wasn't something he'd expected from her. Seeing that she was standing in the middle of the room, he closed the door behind himself and moved to sit at his desk, waving her to take a seat.

"Again, Miss Evans, was there anything you needed?"

"I just wanted to drop by and apologize to you about our first class this term," she said quickly, and he could tell she was nervous about it. Bit late, isn't it? he thought. That first class had been Monday morning. Still, he supposed he should take what he could get.

"That is quite all right, Miss Evans," he replied evenly.

"I just . . ." Lily shrugged. "I didn't mean to question you. I guess I was just used to the way Professor Slughorn did things, and having things change mid-year was . . . confusing. I had worked out a study plan and everything already, but since you're going through the material in a different order . . ."

So that's it, Harry mused. She was upset because I nixed her carefully-planned study habits? He mentally shrugged. As long as it wasn't anything serious, he didn't particularly mind, as long as she didn't keep it up. And it wasn't as if he couldn't sympathize with her. Snape's stint as a DADA teacher during his third year while he was replacing Lupin had been rather traumatizing, as well. Harry dearly hoped he hadn't left the same kind of impression.

"I suppose I was a little short-tempered, myself," he admitted carefully.

"So let's just not worry about it anymore," Lily smiled brilliantly at him. "I'm sure you know what you're doing, Professor Dumbledore would never have approved your appointment otherwise."

"I'm sure," Harry said, idly wondering if he would be able to budge his mother out of the room within the next . . . he glanced at the clock. Two minutes?

"Now," Lily continued, seemingly having no trouble transitioning from one issue to the next, "I could swear have I have met you before. You just seem so . . . familiar. Would you terribly mind telling me more about you? I think it'd be so thrilling to be able to tell my parents if we had met before."

Though Lily's behavior bordered on being presumptuous, and though Harry needed to be at Malfoy Manor shortly, he just couldn't seem to find the words to send her away or hurt her feelings. Harry took a seat and began listing off the places Harry Ashworth had lived. The mastery of the forgers' skills in identity manufacturing was soon made manifest. Though the Evans family seemed to travel quite often, never had they crossed paths with the fictional Harry Ashworth. Ashworth had never been near tourist attractions during tourist seasons.

A clock chimed the half-hour and Harry took the distraction it provided to end the conversation. "I'm sorry, Miss Evans, but I'm afraid that I must cut this short," he announced, standing up.

Lily took the hint, stood and made for the door. "Perhaps we'll figure this out another time," she said. "Feel free to call me Lily, though."

Harry nodded gravely and shut the door behind her. He then quickly moved to the fireplace, threw some Floo powder into the fire, yelled "Malfoy Manor" and stepped into the green flames. Managing to come out of Malfoy Manor's fireplace standing was a difficult feat, but Harry accomplished it, though he felt ill from the effort.

"Mr. Ashworth," Romulus Malfoy called from a nearby door, "welcome to Malfoy Manor, my ancestral home."

"It's very beautiful," Harry acknowledged by way of greeting as he surveyed his surroundings. Compared to Grimmauld Place, the home of the Malfoys was very open and well lit. Harry wasn't really an expert on architecture, but he supposed that the style was French, to some extent.

"Yes, I've always thought so," Malfoy said. "Why don't I take you on a quick tour to show you the highlights of the place?"

Harry agreed to this and they were soon walking about. Romulus seemed very impressed with his own home, and Harry did have to agree, though he felt that the style was very overdone. Despite this, Harry did his best to seem astounded by the richness of the manor, paid Romulus several compliments, and thanked him for the opportunity to see his fine home. If Harry ever had to attack or raid the manor again, he could now say that he had inside knowledge.

The tour was soon over and Romulus led Harry back to a smaller sort of sitting room near the back of the house. "I'm afraid that my wife is not at home," Romulus commented, "and as you know, my son is at Hogwarts. Otherwise, I would see to introducing you to them. How is Lucius doing at school?"

"He's doing well," Harry replied, trying to remember something specific to say. Harry had not yet had to seriously interact with the young man. "He seems to get along well with his classmates. Rodolphus Lestrange seems to be a very good friend of his, though he does spend time with young Narcissa Black."

"Lestrange? Lucius hasn't mentioned him . . ." Romulus commented vaguely. "As I was saying, my family isn't home, but I've invited another friend of mine over for our quiet evening."

Upon entering the room, Harry discovered that the friend of Romulus was none other than Orion Black. The Black patriarch stood opposite the door in front of a mirror. He was studying his own reflection and those of Romulus and Harry too. Harry was once again struck by the regal bearing of him. Old age had not softened or weakened the man, it appeared to have simply made him tougher. He seemed quite old for having a child the age of Sirius, but Harry supposed that some wizards and witches were apt to marrying later in life.

"Orion, Mr. Ashworth has arrived," Malfoy announced.

Orion turned from the mirror and made direct eye contact with Harry. "Welcome, Mr. Ashworth."

Harry nodded to Orion, opting to say nothing because he couldn't think of anything intelligent to say. He was saved from any awkward silence by Romulus negligently motioning for everyone to choose a seat from a collection of high-backed, leather armchairs around a small sort of table.

"I was just speaking with Harry here," Malfoy said with an odd smile on his face. "He mentioned that Lucius spends time with the Lestrange boy."

Harry wondered why Romulus would bother to mention that to Orion, but he supposed they might be friends and that Orion might know Lucius well as a consequence. Harry got no confirmation or denial of this assumption because Orion's reaction to the statement wasn't very revealing.

"It's good to see a professor who shows a personal interest in and gives notice to his students," Orion said gravely, leaning back into his chair, but not really relaxing.

Harry shrugged deprecatingly. "I'm around them on a constant basis; it's hard not to pick up on some things."

"You have a good point," Romulus commented as he snapped his fingers. A tray bearing and assorted collection of snack foods appeared and he proffered it Orion and Harry who each helped themselves. Another snap and a few tumblers appeared—filled halfway with some sort of amber liquid. Harry guessed it to be firewhiskey, but as he had never had the time to sample a wide assortment of beverages in the future, he couldn't guarantee that he could positively identify anything.

"We'd like to see how skilled you are at observing and thinking about things," Romulus stated casually.

"Yes," Orion added quietly.

Harry looked from one to the other, desperately trying to read their faces for a clue as to what would be the best way to respond. He should have been better prepared for interacting with the major players of the wizarding world, or at least should have come to the table with a strategy in mind. Did he want to infiltrate Voldemort's followers, or did he want to appear more neutral than not? "I don't know that I'm especially clever," he said, thinking of Hermione. "But I'd like to think that I'm not a dimwit."

"Don't we all," Malfoy said with a small smile. Harry was again reminded of Lucius, but the smile didn't seem as offensive as it had in times to come.

Orion reached into a pocket and produced a sheaf of papers. Harry's initial glance told him that the collection was composed of newspaper clippings and stray pieces of parchment. "Do me a favor and look over the newspaper clippings, Mr. Ashworth. Make some conclusions. Tell us what you think."

Harry took the small bundle of papers and started sorting through them as Romulus and Orion sipped their drinks and watched Harry intently. Each clipping detailed a fight or disturbance similar to the one Harry had been involved in—though it did seem that each was less severe than his. Some involved wounded wizards and witches being transported to the hospital while others had been broken up before anyone had gotten injured.

Harry's thoughts raced as he tried to figure out what to say to the two purebloods. There were obvious things he could mention, but Harry didn't think Orion and Romulus were interested in them. Harry opted to start speaking and hoped that it helped him think. "Well, obviously we've got a lot of disturbances here."

Romulus and Orion nodded, paying Harry their undivided attention.

"Each disturbance is caused by a similar sort of people. Young, not long out of Hogwarts. When interviewed or spoken to, they usually mention a lot of the same things."

"True," Orion said carefully, arching his eyebrow. "What else do you see?"

Harry winced internally. He wasn't doing well. A ten-year-old could have told them that. "If they're saying the same sort of things that means that what they feel is a common problem or concern to them. To be honest, I can see where they're coming from, though their solution is obviously not particularly wise." Let them chew on that, Harry sighed. Regardless of with who they sympathize with, I'm correct in saying that the behavior is silly.

Orion sighed. "Yes, too true."

The Black patriarch was about to say something else, but Harry was suddenly inspired and extended his observation, though cheating a little. "Not only are these feelings there, but someone or something must be actively festering them." Harry supposed that a really smart person would have gotten that without knowing about Voldemort's future rise to power, but he was willing to take any breaks he could get.

"Impressive," Romulus said expansively. "You weren't born yesterday, Ashworth."

"Quite," Orion agreed. "Now examine the handwritten accounts."

Harry did so and discovered copious notes on various attacks that had been made on Muggles. The injuries were more serious, though the Ministry had been able to set some things right. He wondered how it was that Orion had gotten his hands on the reports. There was really only one observation Harry could make—largely because he couldn't have an opinion, not when he already knew the answer. "Organization," he said at last.

"Indeed," Orion said. "Organization."

Harry sat and looked at the two older wizards, unsure what to say. "So what do you suppose is behind it?" he asked. He didn't want to comment on whether this was good or bad, because he wasn't too sure about how Orion and Romulus felt on the subject of Voldemort.

"It's not good," Romulus said. "Very little that happens in the dark is on the level."

"True," Harry said, being a little coy.

"We had hoped by placing you at Hogwarts that you might be able to keep your ears open," Orion said quietly. "Romulus and I would like to know more details about what is going on behind our backs—or even in front of our faces. Obviously, Lucius doesn't tell his father everything, as you have demonstrated tonight."

Harry nodded. "I could do that."

"I think I'm right in saying that my friend here is not thrilled about Lucius being as close as he is to the Lestrange brothers," Orion said as Romulus nodded affirmatively. "We fear that the Lestranges are definitely the wrong sort of people."

"Very well," Harry said, "I can especially keep an eye on what they're likely to be up to."

"Excellent," Orion said. "You can see what needs doing and get back to us as necessary.

8. Defensive Postures

A/N: Many thanks to Pete9188 for his moral support and suggestions. LS

Chapter 7

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Though lingering with you would be very enjoyable," Orion announced to Romulus and Harry, "I must go, or else my wife will be very irate with me. " He stood, nodded very formally to Romulus, and then spoke to Harry directly. "We will meet from time to time to discuss your observations. If you discover anything . . . malignant, contact us immediately. Otherwise, wait, and we'll contact you when we determine it to be best."

To be polite, Harry also stood. He then replied in what he hoped was a respectful tone of voice. "Yes, of course."

Orion made to turn and leave the room, but he hesitated. "If anyone's life were to be in immediate danger, you of course would need to notify the headmaster and proper authorities, but otherwise, we'd prefer that you don't mention anything to anyone. If you do discover something amiss, we'd rather have the luxury of considering our options before anyone takes . . . drastic action."

"I understand," Harry said slowly, turning Orion's request over in hid mind. He reminded himself that he could always notify Professor Dumbledore later if there was something serious that Black and Malfoy weren't going to handle appropriately.

Malfoy, who was still sitting in his chair and not looking at either Harry or Orion, spoke as Orion exited the room. "Should we have Ashworth coordinate with your niece at all?"

Orion turned around a final time and looked at Romulus with an unreadable facial expression on his face before responding. "I would hope that Harry is skilled enough to do what we ask without help."

There was silence as Orion made his way to the main fireplace. Harry began to wonder if he ought to also excuse himself and leave Malfoy Manor. Unfortunately, the elder Malfoy didn't seem to be providing any cues for Harry. He sat in his chair ignoring both Harry and the departing Orion in favor of studying the small tumbler that had contained his drink. However, as soon as the crackling of the fire announced Orion's departure, Malfoy started to laugh loudly.

"Is there something funny?" Harry asked, afraid that he'd become the butt of a joke.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Malfoy said expansively, waving his hand for Harry to sit down again. "I was just having a little fun with Orion."

"I see . . ." Harry said, even though he didn't. He sat down and tried to think of something to say, but was coming up empty. Fortunately, Romulus spared him the task by starting the conversation.

"Definitely do keep an eye on those Lestrange morons," Romulus instructed. "They're just the sorts that are stupid and belligerent enough to cause trouble—even if it has nothing to do with anything of consequence."

Harry nodded. After all, he was familiar with the Lestranges. "I reckon I can handle any trouble from that quarter," he said confidently. In the future, he had been able to hold his own against the above-average Death Eater. Dealing with them while they were still students didn't seem especially daunting.

"Maybe you can and maybe you can't," Romulus said. "You certainly seem powerful, but you're too young to have become a master dueler. If I were you, I'd be sharpening up my skills. It never hurts to add new spells to your repertoire. One of the best magic libraries in the world is at Hogwarts. You should make use of it."

"You're probably right," Harry said, feeling strange to be receiving such advice from a Malfoy. It seemed the sort of thing a fellow member of the Order would have said, but not someone from a family he considered dark. Harry committed to himself that he would visit the library as soon as possible and see if he couldn't start learning a couple of new spells a week.

Romulus made an extra effort to put a broad smile on his face to counter the somber mood that the subject matter had invoked. "Enough of this serious stuff. There's no point in thinking about anything until it happens. Now tell me Harry, have you heard of the Chudley Cannons?"

Harry groaned silently, but was resolved to remain polite. "An old friend of mine supported them," he admitted cautiously. "I'm afraid that I haven't really kept up."

"With your friend or the team?" Romulus asked, smiling knowingly.

"Err . . . both," Harry said, feeling a pang of sorrow for his separation from his friends. Though Harry had never really been that enthusiastic about Ron's team, talking about the Canons reminded him of Ron. Thus, Harry could hardly resist the opportunity. "How are the Cannons this season? Do you think they have good prospects?"

~!~!~!~!~

Happily for Harry, Romulus's wife had eventually returned home and had politely excused Harry—or at least had provided Harry with an excuse to leave—but not before Romulus had mentioned his season Quidditch tickets and any free time Harry might have in the near future. Harry departed, arrived back at Hogwarts late and went to bed, vaguely wondering if anyone had noticed his absence from the castle.

Saturday and Sunday involved Harry grading the homework of his students and attempting to concoct his lesson plans for the coming week or so. Unfortunately for the students, Harry was forced to conclude that the best way to teach them about certain properties of potion brewing involved assigning them essays.

Harry, however, did not know enough about Potions to structure the most effective essay prompts for each of his classes. This necessitated library research, and Harry added that to his list of things to do in the library. The first opportunity for Harry to visit the Hogwarts library came on Monday night.

As soon as Harry had finished with his evening meal, he made his way to the library debating with himself on the way as to whether he'd prefer to do the necessary potions research first or find a couple of new spells to learn. Pragmatically, he realized that the potions effort might be very time consuming and thus resolved to get the spells out of the way first.

Upon entering the library, Harry came face to face with a much younger version of Madame Pince. He couldn't help but stop and stare. Younger she was, but her countenance and composure were no different than they had been in the future.

"Did you want something?" she asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"Err . . . I thought I'd just come on in and look up a few things," Harry replied, having a very hard time remembering that he was, in fact, a professor.

"Right. You're the new professor aren't you?" the librarian said before launching into a detailed explanation of where everything was located in the library.

Harry supposed that she was trying to be helpful, but his previous knowledge of the library made the librarian's extended speech seem to last an eternity. Consequently, he didn't pay it close attention. Eventually, Harry was free to wander. He did so, trying to avoid eye contact with the students present. He wasn't entirely sure what the proper protocol was for teachers and students interacting in the library.

Maybe I ought to ask Bellatrix, Harry snickered to himself. I'm sure that's just the sort of thing she wants to help me out with.

Finding the literature and wand movements for two new defensive spells proved to be quite simple. Harry wrote down the information on a small sheet of parchment and tucked it away in his robes. He would practice the spells before going to bed. With any luck, he'd be ready to return to the library for two more before the week ended.

Harry was quietly thumbing through a NEWT preparation guide when he saw two girls approach Madame Pince. They produced a piece of parchment and the sour looking librarian reluctantly left the desk and retrieved a book from the Restricted Section. It was at this point that Harry realized that as a professor, he had access to the Restricted Section of the library.

Hermione would have killed for that privilege, Harry reminisced. Ron and I would have just used the books to get into trouble. Harry was soon fondly thinking of all the things that students would have been able to do with the knowledge in the Restricted Section. It only took a few moments before his thoughts settled on his situation and he realized that he did have a valid need to access the Restricted Section.

Harry soon decided that assigning his students essays could wait a day or two, or even a week. It wasn't as if they were going to complain about Harry being lazy in that department. They wouldn't do the essays until the last minute no matter how early he assigned them. He tossed the book back onto a return shelf and approached the librarian again. "Uh . . . excuse me. I was wondering if I could browse the Restricted Section."

Madame Pince looked annoyed. "Yes, you may. I already told you that. The school's magic recognizes your status as a professor. Thus, you may go into the Restricted Section anytime."

"Right, just double checking," Harry said, trying to save face.

He strolled over to the shelves and was soon looking for books on time travel while self-consciously pretending that he was only browsing casually. Eventually, he realized that not only did no one care, but also that no one was even paying attention to him. Further, the books were charmed to return to their places on the shelf. Even if Harry left time travel books strewn all over the place, no one would notice because no one would actually be shelving them.

With his newfound courage, Harry strode over to the card catalog, looked up time travel, and soon had a list of books to check. Not long after that, he had a broad collection of books having to do with time travel spread all across a table he had successfully commandeered from a retiring study group. Unfortunately, Harry's anonymity and privacy was destroyed by the arrival of someone who did care about what topics he was researching and what he was doing in the library.

"Decision time, eh?" Bellatrix said by way of greeting. She picked up ones of the books and flipped through the pages before dropping it back on the table. "I wouldn't bother with that author. Even if he did know something about time travel, I doubt he'd be able to explain it in coherent sentences."

Harry grabbed the book and flipped to the back to check the author's biographical information. "How do you know anything about him?"

"He's written all sorts of books about the Dark Arts," Bellatrix replied, shoving Harry's books to one side of the table and setting her satchel down. "They're all utterly useless. My mother and aunt spend a lot of time reading and critiquing stuff like that. I don't see why she wastes her time. Learning the Dark Arts requires having someone to perform them on."

"Whatever," Harry muttered, wondering if he ought to figure out if there was an established authority in the field of time travel was. Unfortunately, it was probably some anonymous Unspeakable.

Bellatrix sat down and started sorting through Harry's selection. "Wow, you really raided the Restricted Section! I bet we can figure out what we're doing in no time."

"No," Harry declared. "I'll figure out what I am doing."

Bellatrix pouted, "I bet you don't even know what you should be researching."

"Of course I know what I'm researching," Harry defended. "My major concern is preventing a rift in the space-time continuum," Harry explained.

Bellatrix began to laugh quietly, though uncontrollably. "Space-time continuum? Someone watches plenty of the telly."

Harry wasn't amused—especially because he realized she was probably right. Quickly, he cast about and found something clever to say. "Sounds like you watch plenty of television yourself," he retorted.

That stopped Bellatrix dead. "No I don't."

"Could have fooled me," Harry pressed.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Okay," Harry agreed, not even trying to hide his triumph.

Bellatrix glared at him and began to produce her textbooks and some parchment from her satchel. Soon, she was doing her homework as Harry perused his collection of time travel books. Frustratingly, most of them seemed to deal with how time travel might occur. Harry was more interested in the theory and consequences of it. It seemed that no one really had thought or written about anything beyond making it happen in the first place.

"Are you a Muggleborn?" Bellatrix finally asked.

"No," Harry replied.

Silence resumed and eventually, Bella had nearly finished her homework and Harry had concluded that there were approximately three books he was actually interested in checking out and taking back to his quarters.

"Did you find anything?" Bellatrix asked.

"Maybe," Harry replied.

"We could talk about it," Bellatrix asked, almost pleading. "You need someone to sound your ideas off on. It's not as if you have anyone else."

Harry looked around and smiled, "Even if I wanted to, do you think it would be such a great idea to talk about it in the middle of the Hogwarts library?" He gathered up all of the books, left Bellatrix sitting at the table, and returned them to an empty shelf in the Restricted Section. He picked out the three books he was interested in and took them to Madame Pince who perfunctorily checked them out to him.

He made to exit the library, but found Bellatrix waiting at the door for him. It seemed that she intended to continue making her case. "The halls aren't any better than the library," Harry told her in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Look, Harry. What you're doing is big. I want to be in on it. Surely there's something useful I can do." Bellatrix said.

"I'm not sure it's the best idea," Harry commented as they proceeded down the corridor.

"I already know enough to cause you and your plans trouble," Bellatrix retorted, beginning to get angry.

Harry stopped short and looked at her coldly. Bellatrix was startled enough by the expression in his eyes to step back. However, before Harry could say anything, the sound of raised voices came from around the corridor. They were intelligible, but soon, one of them was loud and annunciated enough for Harry and Bellatrix to make out what was being said.

"Leave him alone, Potter!" Lily Evans shrieked.

Laughter that Harry instantly recognized as belonging to James and Sirius followed. "Just great," Harry muttered with disgust. "Come on, let's break this up," he said to Bellatrix. Harry shifted his books and discreetly drew his wand.

When they rounded the corner, they discovered Lily, Severus, James, and Sirius alone in the corridor. James and Sirius had their wands drawn and were looking far too gleeful for their own good. Lily was standing between them and Snape, a look of fury painted on her face. Snape's expression, as often was the case, was unreadable.

Harry didn't need an explanation to understand what was going on. He knew about the dynamics that existed between the four too well. With a quick snap of his wand, James and Sirius were disarmed and their wands summoned to Harry's hand.

"Would you care to tell me what you've been doing this evening?" Harry asked James and Sirius coolly.

James and Sirius were spared formulating an answer. Lily took it upon herself to explain. "Professor, they were teasing Severus!" She then launched into an explanation of how she had decided to walk toward the library and how she had discovered James and Sirius harassing Snape. By the time Lily was through, Harry himself was beginning to feel slightly guilty, even though he had done nothing.

"I think you should take fifty points from Gryffindor!" Bellatrix declared with relish.

James and Sirius glared at Sirius's cousin. Sirius then quickly retorted, "How fortunate that you're not the professor here!"

"You're just jealous," Bellatrix cooed, further infuriating Sirius.

Harry let out a disgusted sigh. Now that Bellatrix had suggested it, he simply couldn't take points from Gryffindor—and there was the fact that Lily, a Gryffindor, had stepped in and tried to protect Snape. "You know what?" Harry said, "Detention for both of you."

"Fine," James retorted, glaring at Snape and trying to avoid Lily's eyes. "What time?"

Harry cursed silently. The problem with assigning detentions was that one had to supervise them. That took time. He quickly tried to think of his weekly schedule and also attempted to anticipate when he would next need to visit the library before deciding. "Thursday evening, at eight o'clock," he decided aloud. "Both of you. In my office."

There was a short silence. Snape was giving James and Sirius a dirty look while Lily looked triumphant. Bellatrix had a thoughtful expression on her face. Harry ended up breaking the silence first. "You will all have to excuse me, I have things to do." He stalked away and made his way to his office, trying to figure out how he was supposed to carry out a detention for his own father and godfather.

~!~!~!~!

Harry did not have to see his parents or Bellatrix until Wednesday. He had expected James and Sirius to be rather angry with him and consequently cause problems, but when the day arrived, they had treated him casually in class. This caused Harry to realize that they probably were quite accustomed to getting detentions and probably didn't take it personally. This sort of attitude fondly reminded Harry of the Weasley twins. Surprisingly, the trouble he had been expecting arrived with Bellatrix, instead of the Marauders, during a student presentation.

A group of rather dull students wanting the extra credit Harry had promised were explaining to the class how to brew one of the NEWT level potions. Harry had optimistically told himself that this was a good opportunity to learn more about potions, but very shortly after the presentation began, he found himself drowsing.

"When the mixture begins to boil, it is safe to add the scorpion tongue powder and stir clockwise," droned Ned Willardby.

Bellatrix, leaning back in her chair spoke up. "Nobody adds scorpion tongue powder to a boiling mixture, dimwit!" she drawled loudly. The class gasped and Harry sat up in his chair trying to ascertain whether he had heard her correctly.

The girl who appeared to be Ned's girlfriend and study partner quickly retorted in a high-pitched voice. "What do you know about scorpion tongue powder?"

"So the dimwit has a dimwit friend," Bellatrix said snidely.

"Miss Black," Harry spoke up, "it is not appropriate to refer to people as dimwits . . . in the classroom."

"What? Are you a dimwit too?"

Harry glared at her. "Five points from Slytherin."

Bellatrix smirked at Harry and he felt his ire rising. "All right, Ashworth. Prove that you're not a dimwit. Tell us what happens when one puts scorpion tongue powder into a cauldron full of a boiling potion. You have heard of this powder, have you not?"

"Of course I've heard of it," Harry growled, wondering why Bellatrix felt that it was necessary to embarrass him in front of the class. "Now why don't we let Ned finish presenting his group's project?"

"Dimwit."

"Detention! Thursday night."

The gleam of triumph in Bellatrix's eyes instantly caused Harry to realize that she had wanted detention and he cursed quietly, annoyed at his letting a teenager manipulate him like that. He scowled fiercely at her before motioning for Ned to resume. Something told him that there wouldn't be any further disruptions from her now that she had what she wanted.

~!~!~!~!

Thursday evening found Harry in his office, sitting at his desk with one of the library's time travel books propped open. Thus far, his search had not yielded a large amount of information about time travel, but he had learned a few things—perhaps enough to make some firm decisions about just what he would attempt to do in the past. He now realized that he probably should have done this research earlier rather than wasting time treading around softly. He was spared any further thought by the arrival of James Potter and Sirius Black who stepped into his office through the open door.

"Hey Professor Ashworth, how are you this fine evening?" Sirius cheekily inquired.

"I'm doing well. Please sit down," Harry said, gesturing toward a pair of chairs on the other side of his desk.

"So what is on the menu tonight?" James asked, sharing a smirk with Sirius and trying to not laugh too openly.

Harry slowly closed the book he had been studying and set it aside before studying James and Sirius for several moments. Seeing his father and godfather this close and interacting with them personally was going to be harder than he anticipated—not only for the sheer fact that he was interacting with two persons that he had lost, but also for the fact that they were displaying very shameful behavior.

"Tell me Mr. Potter, Mr. Black. Why is it that you see fit to give Mr. Snape so much grief? What has he done to deserve it?" Harry inquired, trying to sound calm and dispassionate.

"Call me James," Harry's father muttered rather than providing a very good answer.

"Fine," Harry replied. "James, what is your bone against Severus?"

There was some awkward silence, but it didn't bother Harry. He wasn't the one in the hot seat. Harry looked from James to Sirius waiting for an answer. Neither of the boys seemed to be able to think of anything remarkable to say.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"He's a git!" Sirius declared hotly.

"A git?" Harry repeated coldly, implying that he wanted an explanation.

"He just thinks he's so amazing!" James declared angrily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Everyone likes to think they're amazing, especially you. Why does Severus's doing so bother you especially?"

"Well . . ." James vaguely said. "It's just that he's especially annoying."

Harry knew enough from the future, and from his observations in class to produce the answer himself. "There's also the minor fact that he likes Lily."

The look on James's face told Harry that he'd hit home. James didn't seem to have anything to say, so Harry took the opportunity to continue. "If you like Lily Evans, then you're going to have to impress her. How do you suppose you're doing so far by tormenting her childhood friend?"

James muttered something that Harry couldn't hear.

"If you want Lily to like you, you'd better shape up. She doesn't care who you parents are or how much money you have," Harry declared, wondering idly just who James's parents were and whether they were prominent fixtures in the magical world. "I'm not telling you this because I'm your enemy," Harry continued. "I want to see you become a good, decent person. I wish you well in your ambitions. However, I won't tolerate your pride like this. So, will you agree, at the very least, to treat Snape neutrally?"

"I guess," James said, not making eye contact with Harry.

"Mr. Black? You as well?" Harry asked.

"Call me Sirius," he answered, also nodding that he'd try to do what Harry asked. He didn't seem to be quiet as emotionally vested in Snape-hate . . . yet. Maybe Harry's efforts would prevent it.

"Great," Harry said, "now on to the real part of your detention. Come out to the classroom with me." Harry led them to the Potions classroom and gestured to the room at large. "The years have not been kind to this room. I would use magic to clean it, but one never knows what the stuff dirtying everything up actually is. I'm sure Filch has plenty of materials in that broom closet down the hall, so why don't you gather some and get to work."

James and Sirius didn't seem too thrilled by this, but Harry didn't really care. He'd served far worse detentions for the Potions professor, and really, the blame for some of them could be traced back to James and Sirius. Further, Harry reckoned that the two needed to build some character. As long as Harry wasn't the one who needed character building, he reckoned it was a marvelous thing.

The two had just returned with supplies and were getting started when Bellatrix made her appearance. "I'm here for my detention, Professor Ashworth," she said in a perfectly innocent, girl-next-door sort of voice. The unnaturalness of it fazed Harry for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

Harry glared at her before pointing to his office. "I'll be in momentarily." Bellatrix went into the office and Harry proceeded to give James and Sirius specific instructions for their cleaning tasks. He concluded his instructions with a warning. "I won't be keeping an eye on you the whole time, but you won't be leaving until I'm satisfied the job is done."

"What is she going to be doing?" Sirius asked, outraged at the potential that Bellatrix might be getting off easier for whatever it was she had done.

"That has yet to be determined," Harry growled before entering his office and shutting the door.

He found Bellatrix sitting at the desk and flipping through one of the time travel books he had borrowed from the library. "Cheeky, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean, Professor?" Bellatrix asked innocently.

"Don't you mean Professor Dimwit?" Harry retorted, resuming his seat.

"If you would prefer . . ." Bellatrix responded absently. "Have you made any interesting discoveries yet?"

Harry studied her for a moment before responding. "Yes, I have. But at this moment, I'm more interested in discovering why you felt it was necessary to brat me into giving you a detention."

"You were trying to claim that we couldn't talk about your unique situation in any public place, and I'm smart enough to realize that you would avoid being alone with me. Now, you don't really have any choice." Bellatrix said smugly.

"What if I sent you out into the Forbidden Forest to collect unicorn dung?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix didn't seem to be very amused. "I suppose I'd have to write my father and complain."

"Don't even try playing that card with me," Harry said drily, reminding himself that as long as he had Orion and Romulus batting for him, he didn't have to worry too much about Cygnus. Even if Cygnus swayed Orion, it was Romulus who had influence on the Hogwarts Board, and he would think sending a student to collect unicorn dung in the forest hilarious.

"All right then, were you going to send me out to the forest?" Bellatrix inquired.

Harry smiled. I wish he thought to himself. "No. It so happens that I did need to see you about the time travel situation. If there's extra time remaining for your detention after that, I'll just send you out to help Mr. Potter and Mr. Black."

Bellatrix beamed at him, thrilled that she was going to get in on a bigger part of Harry's secrets, though she wasn't terribly happy with the prospect of helping James and Sirius scrub the floors and benches. "I can stay around and talk about your time travelling for hours."

"I'm sure," Harry said blandly, "but I'd get sick of it awfully quick." He pulled one of the library books from his drawer and opened it to a marked spot. "My chief concern has been the long-term effects of what I may do here in the past—or even just my simple presence here. When one hears about time-travel stories, the immediate concern is that the travelers are at risk of endangering their very existence by changing the past."

"Obviously," Bellatrix commented, not overly impressed at Harry's logic. "How risky is that for you? Are you parents around here anywhere?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Harry said silkily, hiding a smirk for the fact that his father was just outside the door scrubbing the potions classroom. With that thought, Harry realized that he should probably put a silencing charm on the door so that he didn't have to worry about being overheard. He drew his wand, flicked it with a small mutter, and returned it to its holster.

"Now, down to business. I want to see your hair ornament." Harry announced.

"Why?"

"I need to perform a couple of tests on it to determine the magic by which it functions," Harry explained, holding the book up. "Once I know that, I can figure out how everything else affects the timeline."

"I don't have it with me," Bellatrix replied, looking Harry in the eyes and daring him to contradict her.

Harry set the book down and accepted the dare. "Based on my experience, I'd have to disagree. I think you have it concealed on your person somewhere."

"Prove it," Bellatrix retorted, folding her arms and looking the other way.

Harry sighed before deciding that two could play this game. "Well all right, I suppose if you don't have it, you don't. Why don't you head out, fetch an extra scrub pad from Filch's supplies, and get to work. I'm sure James and Sirius will be grateful for the help."

Bellatrix wasn't pleased, but Harry nevertheless had the upper hand. "Turn your back," she demanded.

Remembering that the original Bellatrix had made this demand in the last moments of her life, Harry complied, knowing that he wasn't putting his life in danger by doing so. Harry heard the cloth of her garments rustle as she muttered to herself angrily.

"You may turn back," Bellatrix said after a few moments.

Harry turned and was pleased to see her holding the hair ornament that had served as older Bellatrix's method of suicide. A chill went through Harry as he looked at it in her hands and the feeling only increased when she handed it over to him. Harry held it gingerly, as if it was a spider that might bite him if he moved the wrong way.

"Don't you dare try to activate it here," Bellatrix hissed, looking him in the eyes again, but this time looking sort of . . . desperate. "I'm your partner in this and I won't have you running out on me."

Harry rolled his eyes. His partner? What did she expect to get out of it? "I don't think either of us is willing to do what it takes to activate this thing," Harry commented. Unless stabbing other people counts, Harry amended silently.

"Would you care to shed some light on what you mean?" Bellatrix asked. The fact that Harry knew how her magical artifact functioned while she didn't have a clue galled her.

"No, I don't care to," Harry said calmly, setting down the ornament and beginning to flip to some marked pages in the library book. He finally found what he was looking for and performed a number of charms on the hair pin. Eventually, he was satisfied and handed the ornament back to Bellatrix.

"Well?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry sighed and leaned back in the chair, studying the wall and ceiling behind Bellatrix.

"Is it good news or bad news?" Bellatrix asked impatiently, the ornament clutched in her hand.

"It's just plain news," Harry said quietly. "It's hard to say whether it's good or bad . . . at least in general."

Bellatrix could see that Harry was struggling with whatever he had learned. Realizing that they had arrived at a crucial point in Harry's destiny, she quietly decided that badgering Harry wouldn't be very nice. Casually, she rearranged her hair, placed her ornament in it, and sat back silently—waiting for Harry to gather his wits.

Finally, Harry spoke in a monotone. "When the artifact was activated in my future . . . it changed things."

Bellatrix was tempted to reply, but remembered her father once telling her that sometimes it was better to just endure the silence and let the person speak at their own speed.

"My future is gone," Harry announced, trying to harden himself by admitting the fact aloud. "It has been cut away as one would prune a branch from a tree. For all intents in purposes, I'm in an . . . alternate reality . . . except I no longer have my own reality to return to."

Bellatrix nodded slowly, doing her best not to come off as cold as she would usually. "So even if your parents were to get killed off right now, you'd still continue existing, even though you'll never be born?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "That's the gist of it. I have me and everything else I may have brought with me, tangible or not, and I'm independent of anything negative that might normally cause ripples in the structure of reality. I'm simply someone who has landed in the middle of this reality. I don't have to worry about getting wrinkled up with myself or anything like that."

"Everything you brought with you? Is that significant?" Bellatrix asked slowly, doing her best to hide mercenary thoughts. Why would he mention that?

Harry restrained himself from letting his hand touch the scar on his forehead. "It may be . . ."

"Knowing this, what are we going to do?" Bellatrix asked. "I mean, you still know how things are likely to turn out. You'll still want to do something."

Harry nodded. "Basically, I'll just have to do what I can to ensure a better future for everyone."

"Everyone?" Bellatrix asked carefully. "You were in a . . . dispute with someone. That means two sides. You want to manipulate it so your side wins."

"That is true," Harry admitted, "but the more complete the victory of my side, the fewer people there will be to lose on the other side."

Bellatrix did her best to interpret Harry's cryptic comment, but came up short. "What's your first step then?"

Harry thought carefully. "I haven't entirely decided."

"You must have some clue," Bellatrix retorted, the acidity returning to her demeanor now that Harry's emotion had moved a little further toward the back of his mind.

A small smile crossed Harry's face as he looked at Bellatrix. "Your friends the Lestranges may be cognizant of information that I would find . . . useful."

Bellatrix got the hint. "And if I help you obtain that information, what do I get out of it?"

"My undying gratitude?" Harry offered.

"You'll have to do better than that," Bellatrix replied, crossing her arms and sitting back in the chair.

Harry frowned. He wasn't ready to develop a habit of paying Bellatrix for every last thing she did for him. After thinking it over quickly, he settled on something that would probably satisfy her but wouldn't tax him too hard. "I'll let you officially be my partner—but on the condition that I tell you information only on a need to know basis."

"How does that help me?"

"Dividends," Harry said.

Bellatrix thought it over carefully. Even if Harry failed to manipulate events in such a way that he profited greatly, she could still take advantage of things on her own. Despite this positive thought, there was the issue that dividends probably weren't immediate. "How about benefits also?"

"What about them?"

"I can't just do stuff with a vague promise of profits in the future. If I'm your alleged partner, I want to feel like it," Bellatrix explained.

"Well . . . you may come to my . . . office and talk to me without bratting a detention whenever you feel the need," Harry said. "I'll even let you off this detention." Harry offered.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. Harry wasn't offering a whole lot, but Bellatrix wasn't sure just what there was to demand from him. Thus, she found herself agreeing without further negotiation. "I guess that's good enough for now, but I reserve the right to amend this agreement later."

"Whatever," Harry said. Even if he didn't promise to allow her to amend the terms later, she'd make his life miserable until he did.

"All right then."

Harry stood. "You may leave and get back to whatever you need to do."

Bellatrix also stood and stuck out her hand, her violet eyes boring into Harry's eyes. There was a great deal she wanted to discuss, but she figured it might be better to let it wait until Harry had thought things over more and was less likely to become emotional. She didn't want to find herself adjusting her demeanor for his emotions more than necessary.

Harry looked at her hand as if it was a venomous snake. Finally, he reached out and took it, shaking with her on their new partnership. He could hardly believe that he had just established a partnership with the teenage version of Bellatrix Black.

She opened the door and left Harry's office, leaving Harry to mourn the loss of his reality. He only became more depressed when he realized that Bellatrix was really the only person in the entire world that he could call friend—and that only because he was more acquainted and had shared more secrets with her than with anyone else.

~!~!~!

The next week or so passed uneventfully for Harry. He had been able to shelve the time travel question now that he knew that his actions would not endanger his own existence. This had left him plenty of time to research the subjects of potential essays to assign to his classes. When he had free time he did his best to get out and be around the castle so that he might be able to detect any sign of Voldemort's influence among the older students. Thus far, he had discovered nothing that he could really take back to Orion or even anything that he could use in his own personal quest against the rising Dark lord.

The highlight of his days was practicing new spells. He had been surprised to discover that most spells didn't take much more than reading up on the wand movements and a little bit of theory before he could effectively and powerfully cast it. The struggle came when trying to readily have them come to mind—or in other words, it was difficult to incorporate them into his fighting style. Despite this, Harry was confident that he was improving as far as his ability to duel.

He was in the process of grading essays one night when a knock sounded from the door of his office. "Come in," Harry called, already feeling happy for the distraction from reading essay after essay.

Lily Evans opened the door and entered. "Professor Ashworth, how are you?"

"Oh, fine," Harry replied, sitting back and trying to think of what could have possibly prompted her to pay him another visit. He sincerely hoped that she had not returned to interrogate him about his past again.

Lily set her book bag down, helped herself to a chair, and crossed her legs. "Professor, I'm here to make a proposition."

"A what?" Harry asked, staring at her quizzically.

"I have an idea," Lily continued excitedly, but with a semi-serious tone of voice.

Harry glanced back at his stack of essays. Perhaps grading his students' homework had been a better activity. "What is it?"

"You've seen for yourself that Severus has a problem with bullies," Lily said.

"Have Potter and Black still been giving him trouble?" Harry asked, already exasperated.

"No," Lily replied, "not since you gave them detention, but they're not the only ones who don't like Severus."

"You can say that again," Harry mumbled.

"Sorry?"

"Um, I was just happy Potter and Black weren't bothering him again," Harry said, covering up his slip.

"Right," Lily continued. "I was thinking that if Severus could learn to defend himself better, he might not be bullied so much."

Harry shrugged. It had never seemed to Harry that Snape lacked in his fighting skills, but how was he supposed to tell Lily that? Thus, he found himself responding in the only possible way he could given the circumstances. "I suppose you're right."

"So maybe you could take some time to teach him a little bit," Lily suggested.

Harry stared at her. Teach Snape how to defend himself? Never, Harry thought. The Snape that Harry had known was more than proficient enough with magic. Perhaps too proficient. "I'm a potions professor, Lily," Harry said, carefully, trying not to insult Lily's idea.

"You're also a powerful fighter," Lily snapped, becoming quickly outraged at Harry's attempt to avoid being saddled with teaching Snape. "I would ask our Defense professor, but she's practically senile."

"Still, I don't know that I'm the best choice," Harry pushed.

"Do people bully you?" Lily demanded.

"Well . . . sure. All the time." Harry said, thinking of Draco Malfoy and even technically, Voldemort.

"Name the last time it happened."

"Uh . . . well, not recently," Harry admitted. He couldn't exactly bring up anything from his past. At this rate, even if he spoke in vague terms, she would start demanding names and details.

"Obviously, you have the skills necessary to help Severus," Lily said, transitioning from her sharp voice into a more pleading one.

Harry still did not want to do it. "I wouldn't even know what to teach him that would be useful."

"Just a couple of disarming or shield spells," Lily wheedled. "It wouldn't take much time out of your schedule. Only an hour or two every few weeks."

"I just don't know," Harry said, seeing that he was quickly losing ground.

Lily pouted and looked at him with her big green eyes. "Couldn't you just do it as a favor to me?"

Harry began to silently curse. He did not want to tutor Snape on Defense. He did not want to teach the greasy git anything about being a good dueler—but his mother had never asked him for a favor in his entire life. "I'll do it," he ground out, trying to sound casual. "Only a few defensive charms though."

Lily beamed at him. "Thank you! There's just one other thing . . ."

"What?" Harry asked resignedly.

"Would you mind terribly if I participated?"

"Fine." That actually did make Harry feel better. Maybe he'd be able to ensure that Lily and James didn't die. The prospect cheered Harry a little.

"Thank you, professor! When shall Severus and I come for our first lesson?"

"Perhaps Saturday," Harry said, "but check with me in class later this week to confirm."

The ecstatic Lily left Harry office after grabbing her book bag. She was soon replaced by Bellatrix Black who entered the office and slammed the door before sitting down and making herself comfortable.

"What was she doing here?" Bellatrix demanded.

Harry looked at Bellatrix with a faint, teasing smile on his lips. "Jealous?"

"Of what?" Bellatrix demanded, slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing," Harry said, returning to the stack of essays that needed marking. "She seems to think that Mr. Snape would benefit from me tutoring him with regard to defensive spells."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "He would benefit by buying a large bottle of shampoo. The arrogant little snot is already competent enough with magic to get by."

"I was thinking more along the lines of an attitude adjustment," Harry said idly. Snape did indeed have greasy hair, but it was only because he was so annoying that anyone ever bothered criticizing it.

There was silence for a few moments save the scratching of Harry's quill as he proceeded with his work. Bellatrix folded her arms and watched him. She felt silly for visiting him without anything specific to discuss, but he had finally officially admitted that they were partners and she felt that she needed to reinforce the idea. Eventually she made an attempt to continue the conversation. "Are you going to be helping him?"

"A little bit," Harry informed her.

"Why don't you help me?" Bellatrix asked petulantly.

Harry looked up at her, an unreadable expression on his face as he spoke, "Something tells me you don't need very much help."

"Maybe we'll have to find out one of these days," Bellatrix indirectly offered.

"That's an idea," Harry commented thoughtfully.

"All right, when?"

Harry wasn't in the mood to duel with Bellatrix, so he changed the subject. "Have you found out anything about the Lestranges yet?"

"It's hard to cozy up to them after you told me at that party that I ought to avoid Rodolphus," Bellatrix said defensively. "Why do you need to know what he knows? You're from the future. You ought to know more than he does."

Harry set down his quill with a sigh. "But I don't know some of the more precise details. I also need to know who has the information so that I can carry out some of my more important plans. I have to be able to point fingers or make implications. Accurate implications."

Bellatrix wasn't pleased, but she could see where Harry was coming from. "I'll try harder."

"Good," Harry said, picking his quill up and returning to his work.

"Do you even have plans yet?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to share?" Bellatrix asked, trying to hide her ardent curiosity and make her question seem casual. If she didn't act like she was desperate, maybe he'd be more willing to share.

"No," Harry smirked, knowing full well that he was going to irritate Bellatrix. The look on her face at this juncture was very satisfying.

"I thought we were partners."

"We are. But I only tell you what you need to know."

"What if I start only telling you what I think you need to know?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Then I won't tell you anything at all and there will be no benefits or dividends."

Bellatrix wasn't happy. "That's not fair."

"When have you ever cared for fair?" Harry asked dryly, setting down his quill. He was truly sick of grading essays. Since they were on the same subject, they all pretty much said the same things—over and over again. Bellatrix had opened her mouth to retort, but Harry moved on, ignoring her. "Seeing that you're in a mood to share information, I want you to share some with me."

"I don't have anything about Lestrange yet."

"Well, work harder and get it. Meanwhile, you can start to tell me about the pureblood balance of power in the Wizengamot and detail the factions that can bring influence to bear. Who is allied to who? Who is swayed by rhetoric or money? Who follows the lead of who?"

Bellatrix was pleased to see that Harry was now making consequential plans, but also very nervous. What he chose to do with her information could have large effects. She wet her lips nervously and began to speak. "The first person you need to know about is . . . ."

9. Fighting Future Phantoms

A/N: Thank you for all of your encouraging reviews. LS.

Chapter 8

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Exhaustion weighed Bellatrix down. Whatever she had imagined about being Harry's informant, it certainly did not involve as much work as this. He had demanded that she provide nearly every detail she could think of about every member of the Wizengamot and their family, former occupations, and associates. He had even extracted from her an educated guess at the loyalties of nearly every person mentioned. That had led in to a discussion about the warring factions in the Wizengamot and among the Ministry bureaucracy.

Bella had begun with broad, sweeping statements, but she had quickly learned that those would not suffice. Harry wanted to know everything there was to know, even about people who weren't in politics. It almost led her to think he came from an entirely different world, belied only by the fact that he seemed to know so much about the players in the game.

Harry tried to hide it while he was asking the probing questions, but she was no slouch at reading between the lines. The way he asked pointed questions, asked again, and asked some more about specific people until he was satisfied told her that he knew them, or knew of them, at least. And then there was the intimate knowledge he held about a select few people in this time – including her. In addition to a number of other things, Harry's behavior signaled to Bellatrix that he was playing for keeps.

Thus, Bellatrix had come to realize that if she really was going to be his partner in his venture, she would have to do more than just contribute little pieces of information here and there. Sassing him for fun and tossing him the occasional tidbit of information because it was convenient wasn't going to cut it anymore. He wanted hard information, the kind of knowledge needed to win both a physical and political war. Despite what she might have thought about him, he wasn't dumb. He clearly was crafting his plan as they went along, but he wasn't stupid enough to go into an unknown battlefield with the proverbial wands blazing.

With a huff she realized that he wanted a lot more information than she could give him about her fellow Slytherins. The Lestrange brothers seemed to be high on his list of persons of interest, for some reason, which led her to suspect that he had fought against them in the future he came from.

Spying on her fellow Slytherins wasn't going to be easy. Especially not since Harry wanted explicit details about their daily lives. A thought seemingly occurred to her as he sat back in silence, trying to process all the information she had given him.

"So, Ashworth, you say your future doesn't matter anymore, because you're now in a different timeline." Bellatrix grinned almost ferally. "That means you can tell me all about your future, because it's not going to change anything in it, right?" Gotcha, she thought with no small measure of satisfaction.

Harry glanced up sharply. He seemed to consider her point for a moment, and she could almost see the thoughts flashing across his eyes. "No," he finally said.

"What?" Bellatrix thought she hadn't heard correctly. "You've got to be kidding me! We have an agreement, Ashworth!"

"An agreement which includes only you being my informant."

"You agreed to let me know all vital information!"

Harry glared at her. "And the information about my future is not vital to you. As you so aptly phrased it, my future no longer matters. Therefore, whatever I tell you about it also no longer matters and cannot be vital information."

"That's not fair!" Bellatrix protested, annoyed that Harry had worked around her cleverness.

"Life is never fair. Take it as one of the only things I'll tell you about the future."

"But—"

At this point, Harry turned around in his chair stared at a bookshelf. Bellatrix glared back at his profile for a moment, but he seemed utterly unfazed by her eyes boring into him. She knew a dismissal when she saw one. It stung her pride, and a part of her wanted to scream and throw a hex at him, but she realized that would not get her anywhere. She knew now what he wanted, and if she didn't provide it, he would likely find someone else to play informant for him. While it was yet too early to tell what kind of benefits she would earn by remaining on his side, considering the fact that he seemed on the verge of waging a country-wide battle against a certain group of people, she figured the benefits would not be inconsiderable.

With one last huff, she stood and departed Harry's office to return to her dorm. She wouldn't get anything more out of him now, but she vowed to herself to not let up until she had gotten the full story from him sometime later. Trudging through the door of the Slytherin common room, she carelessly tossed her book bag to the side and slumped down into a chair. Most of her fellow Slytherins were either in bed or sneaking about, pranking unfortunate Hufflepuffs. That was fine with her because she didn't want to interact with any of them right now.

Looking up she found herself staring at the floor-length mirror that adorned part of the west wall of the common room. Violet eyes set into a pale white face, framed by straight, ebony hair, stared back at her. She was beautiful, her face unmarred. She knew she could turn heads and wind men around her fingers with ease if she wanted to. She got the unsettling feeling that if Harry's plans came to fruition, there would be fighting, and lots of it. She didn't know what would happen to her in the future or what had been her fate in Harry's future. Idly, she wondered what had happened to her in Harry's future.

Then there was one more question on her mind. "Do I really want to do this?" she whispered at her reflection. Was she willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure her side won? That thought brought her up short. Her side? When had she started thinking of Harry as "her side?"The mirror had learned long ago not to answer her questions. As she expected, there was no reply, no wise words of advice for her. The thing that bothered her the most was that Harry hadn't given her anything but the vaguest of hints as to what he was planning to involve her in.

Thoughtfully, Bellatrix began to compile everything she knew about Harry. He appeared powerful, that much was for certain. His magic potential was greater than the average Slytherin, but he didn't seem to flaunt it. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she would consider him beneath her notice, consider him almost . . . normal. He didn't seem the heroic type, like Merlin or Dumbledore. Well . . . his scheming did remind her of the headmaster, but he appeared to be more like a Slytherin in that regard. He was, however, not that sneaky. He was just . . . Harry, she concluded with a miserable sigh, and she didn't even know his last name. But, apparently, he had a plan – and there was room in it for her.

"Well, it can't hurt," she told the mirror, for some reason feeling like she had to defend her reasoning to herself. "It's not as if there's anything else for me to do right now, and Father and Uncle are interested in him for some reason. Besides, if things don't go my way, I can always call it off, right?" That was the point that had her worried the most. Her family had taught her early to always have an exit strategy – a backdoor out of any situation if things got sticky. Best to avoid fighting when possible, and work from the shadows – that was the Black way. Of course, that didn't always work out, and her family had earned a reputation for being vicious fighters, but fact was, if a fight could be avoided, then it was. It was considered a waste in time and energy to fight when one could back out easily.

But Harry had given her no hint as to what she was about to involve herself in, hadn't given her enough to work out an exit strategy with. She didn't know if it was even possible for her to pull out once his plans were set into motion. For all she knew, she could be stuck with him for better or for worse through it all if she made the wrong call now.

Of course, there was the unspoken promise of power and wealth. Harry hadn't exactly come out and said it, but the way he had so easily accessed the Black vault on the day she met him meant that he had access to practically her family's entire fortune. To Bellatrix, this was significant. He didn't have to even succeed in whatever it was he was planning to become rich or powerful. It was already within grasp.

Her mind paused, and she briefly wondered about what she could really expect to inherit from her parents. Her sister was likely going to marry Malfoy – she was cared for. However, even with her out of the picture, that didn't leave much for her. Orion Black controlled he majority of the Black fortune and assets, as the head of the family. While her father had done well in his business, her mother regularly spent most of what he earned in order to match pace with other pureblood socialites.

With a grimace, she remembered that both her father and her uncle had married rather late in their lives, and younger women, no less. This meant that both their wives were likely to outlive them, inheriting their fortune while Bellatrix went empty-handed. The thought caused her mood to sour. At this rate, she would be an old spinster before she inherited anything—if there was to be anything left. Not wanting to wallow in these depressing thoughts anymore, she forcefully shifted the center of her attention to Harry Ashworth.

Slowly, almost of their own accord, her hands rose to the top of her blouse and began undoing the buttons, finding them almost by instinct. She reached in and retrieved her precious hair pin from its hiding place. Bringing it up to eye-level, she frowned at it. "You're the one that started this," she scowled, unsure of whether she should be angry or grateful, and not quite certain if she meant the pin or herself. Angry that recent events had made her doubt her own place in her family and grateful that there was a way out, however uncertain it may seem.

Like the mirror, the pin, too, remained silent, unable to answer the accusation. After a minute, Bellatrix sighed and rearranged her hair, twisting it into a loose bun and sliding in the hair ornament to keep it in place. With one last look at the mirror, she reached for her bag and retrieved a piece of parchment. If she was going to do it, she might as well do it right. And she knew just where to start.

~!~!~!~!

Harry stood idly in an unused classroom, staring out the window at the overcast sky. It was only an hour or so past noon, but one would have thought it much later, judging by the lack of light passing through the clouds. It was Saturday, and, as Lily had enthusiastically reminded him at breakfast, it was the day she had convinced Snape to come in for his first "tutoring" session. Harry had reluctantly agreed, although he was quite sure that even at this point, Snape was more than capable of taking care of himself.

"Professor Ashworth."

Harry schooled his features into neutrality before turning around casually to look at the speaker, not really needing to see him. That kind of cool, even arrogant, tone could only belong to Severus Snape.

"Mr. Snape," Harry replied formally.

Said teenager was standing in the open door of the classroom, looking every bit the annoying potions professor that Harry knew he would one day become. He wore black robes and a faint sneer. His expression was one of annoyance, probably at having to spend the day with Harry, when he could be out doing other things. Harry didn't even want to think about what Snape did in his spare time. For some reason, it annoyed Harry. If Snape was going to be here, couldn't he at least pretend to be civil? Harry didn't really expect him to be grateful, or anything, but . . . Harry shook his head at the thought that he may just be annoyed at the fact that he was agreeing with Snape in his annoyance to be here.

"Come in," Harry finally instructed. "Do you know where Miss Evans is?"

"I am sure she'll show up sooner or later," Snape replied evenly, taking a single step into the room.

"I see. I guess we should wait for her before getting started," Harry said crisply, and Snape inclined his head in a silent agreement that this was more for Lily's sake than either of theirs. Harry turned back to resume staring out the window in silence. The least Lily could have done was to not leave Harry alone with Snape. How was he supposed to make small talk with one of his least favorite people in the world? As it was, he couldn't, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. Harry merely took comfort in the fact that Snape didn't seem any happier at being shanghaied into this impromptu tutoring session.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Snape broke the silence. "Professor," he began, "I would like to state for the record that I am perfectly capable of defending myself. You could even say that Defense Against the Dark is my strongest subject."

Apparently, Snape had already begun his affair with the dark arts. It was annoying, but relieving at the same time. Harry doubted that his mother would escalate her friendship with Snape into a relationship if she became aware of his dabbling. Harry's outward reaction to Snape's statement consisted of a shrug and glance over his shoulder. "I have no doubt that you're quite able in Defense. However, Miss Evans seems to disagree with both of our assessments." He noticed that Snape wasn't meeting his eyes. It was a pleasant change, for once. "Let's humor her, then, shall we?"

"Very well," Snape said, finally met Harry's eyes, as if daring him to disagree, causing Harry to heave an internal sigh.

Harry maintained eye contact for a little bit longer, wondering if Snape was already adept at Legilimency. He felt no mental probes, though, so he shrugged and turned his head away. For some reason, Harry was unable to resist jibing Snape about the dark arts. "Mastering dark spells doesn't protect you from them," he commented idly.

Snape seemed to bristle at that. "With all due respect, I don't see you teaching Defense."

Harry didn't see it, but he could tell from the change in tone that Snape seemed surprised and perhaps a little shaken over the fact that Harry had been able to read the correct meaning into his previous cryptic statement.

With some difficulty, Harry managed to suppress a bout of laughter. The situation was pure irony – after all, Snape had always considered himself an expert in Defense, although he was stuck teaching Potions, and he had made no secret of the fact that he wanted the Defense job. Admittedly, Snape had never actually been given a chance to teach Defense, as far as Harry knew, but Harry still found Snape's comments amusing. Or maybe Snape had taught Defense once, and been promptly relegated to Potions, because his students had either summarily quit the course, failed it, or came away with horrible psychological scars. Much like everyone in NEWT Potions, Harry mused. He allowed the irony to pass, but couldn't resist having the last word. "In my travels, I've met the darkness face to face, Mr. Snape. I think I know a few things about it."

He could feel Snape's eyes boring into the back of his head, and could almost see the mental cogwheels turning as Snape began to reevaluate him in light of this new information. Was Snape now wondering if he was more than a mere Potions instructor? If Snape had been about to say anything in reply, it never amounted to anything because Lily chose that moment to burst into the room, already making apologies for being late.

"I'm sorry! Madam Pince was talking to Professor Sprout, and I had to wait for her to check out my book."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, relieved that he was no longer alone with Snape. Merlin's beard! I'm the adult here, and he still manages to make me uncomfortable. "Let's get started. I'm sure you don't want to spend your entire Saturday with me."

"We're ready!" Lily exclaimed, with a little too much enthusiasm in her voice. Harry suppressed a small sigh. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

"All right," he replied, reaching for his wand. "First, a basic shield spell, with a slight modification . . ."

~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix was annoyed. Harry was neither in his office nor in his private quarters. She had finally finished compiling the list of students with influential parents and wanted to see his reaction to her initiative; her eagerness was spurred on by the feeling that she needed to be productive and no small amount of interest in what might happen. It was a strange feeling, really, something she had never really before encountered in her life. Everything else had been handed to her on a silver platter, and she had never had any motivation to work for anything, except her own fleeting interest in the subject. At the very least, it might be taken by him as a sign of good faith and that she was willing to cooperate with him. He might even let slip some more information about what he was up to.

Eventually, she ended up stalking down the right corridor and heard his voice coming from a classroom that was supposed to be empty. She came to an abrupt halt when she heard a female voice shouting an incantation she vaguely remembered as a low-level shield spell. Anger briefly rose in her as she realized that he was dueling or coaching someone – someone female, no less – and that he had not told her about it. The rational part of her argued that it might be something completely innocent, but she quickly overrode it and marched up to the door, ready to barge in and announce her presence with a slam of the door.

By the time she reached the door knob, however, she had collected herself again and cautiously cracked the door open to take a look – better to err on the side of caution, after all. With something between a scowl and a smirk she realized that Harry was in the middle of trying to teach a shield charm to an obviously bored Snape and an overly enthusiastic Lily Evans.

Bellatrix suppressed a sigh of relief at the scene, though she wasn't really sure why. She continued to smirk as Evans obviously failed to grasp even this simple charm. With some amusement, she watched as Harry groaned in frustration as the shield bubble came out as a bubbling surface.

"All right, all right, stop." Harry rubbed his temples. "Relax, don't force the spell. You're too tense. Let the motion come to you, instead of trying to force it."

"Okay," Lily said, beaming at him.

"Now try again."

Lily did, and Bellatrix had the odd feeling that the Gryffindor girl was enjoying the lesson far more than she should be. It took her a few more tries until she finally managed to succeed, the beam on her face disgustingly bright to Bellatrix's eyes.

"Now," Harry continued, "I'll fire a hex at Mr. Snape here, and I want you to protect him."

Bellatrix grinned evilly, hoping that Lily was going to fail and she was going to see Snape hit with whatever Harry planned on sending at him. Unfortunately for her, Lily actually did perform the spell well enough to save Snape from whatever hex Harry had cast. It didn't escape Bellatrix's notice that he had cast it silently, with barely a flick of his wand. She took it as her cue to interrupt the session and fully opened the door, clearing her throat.

Harry glanced over at her sudden appeareance, and checked the time with a muttered "Tempus." Dispelling the displayed time with a wave of his wand, he shrugged and accepted Bellatrix's presence with a nod. "All right," he said, "looks like we're done for today. Good work, Mr. Snape, Ms. Evans."

A derisive snort from Snape caused Bellatrix to suppress a chuckle. Harry ignored it. "As you can see, I've got other matters to attend to. I recommend you practice. There's really not much more I can teach you outside of what you're learning in Defense. It's all a matter of practice."

Bellatrix wasn't surprised to find Harry looking at Lily when he said that, but what did surprise her was that Snape seemed to give a curt, almost barely visible nod in agreement.

"I really enjoyed this, Professor Ashworth," Lily said as she put her overrobe back on. "I hope we can do this again." Harry didn't miss the glare she sent in Bellatrix's direction. A glare, he noted with amusement, which was returned in force.

"We'll see," Harry replied, wondering how Snape felt about that. A quick glance revealed that he wasn't exactly thrilled and was glaring at Lily's back.

"Great! I look forward to it!" With a brilliant smile and a triumphant grin in the other girl's direction, Lily excused herself while Snape made a more dramatic exit, his robes swirling behind him. It wasn't nearly as refined as it would be in the future, Harry mused, but he was getting there.

Bellatrix couldn't help but feel slightly flattered that he was ending the session on her behalf. When they finally were alone, she closed the door behind her.

"Anything you want to tell me?" Bellatrix asked with a smirk.

"Nothing that would be any of your business. Any progress with Lestrange?"

The Black girl knew she should be offended at the way he had so casually brushed her question aside, but she was in too good a mood to call him out on it. "Not yet," she replied. "I know that knucklehead Rodolphus is obsessed with me, but it'll be hard to play along and find out what they're up to if all he wants is a good lay." And Bellatrix wasn't about to lower herself to the point of sleeping with that disgusting fool for any reason. No, there were other ways to gain information; they would just take more time and subtlety. But that was what she was good at.

"So," she waved her hand at the classroom. "How'd it go? Severus didn't seem overly pleased to be here." And that Evans girl sure made sure to make up for his lack in enthusiasm, Bellatrix thought sourly. "Although, Evans certainly seemed happy enough with things."

"It went well enough," he responded noncommittally. "I've always been pretty good at that sort of thing. It's a shame I didn't get the Defense post. It'd probably have been quite a bit easier than all this potions stuff."

"Evans seemed to like your teaching. And that's not exactly a standard shield charm picked from any old Defense book you taught her there." The idea of duelling him made a reappeareance in her mind. "How about it, you and me go a round? We could both use the practice."

Bellatrix wasn't sure why, but it seemed like a good idea to her, and she was curious enough to want to see how well he could duel. He had the power to back it up – that much was apparent, but part of her wanted to know if he had the finesse. Maybe part of her was hoping he didn't, so that she could one-up him in one area, at least. Then there was also the fact that she genuinely enjoyed dueling. Unfortunately, Hogwarts had no duelling club of any sort and frowned on student brawls. Thus, she rarely had a chance to spread her proverbial wings—not that she would ever think of labelling her refined fighting technique as a mere brawl.

Harry stiffened and turned away from her. "I don't think that . . . is a good idea."

Her temper flared. He was willing to play games with Snape and Evans, but he wasn't willing to do it with her? Her mind flashed back to the way Evans had been looking at him—the way that the Gryffindor brat had grinned at her. Then her mind moved on to feeling resentment that Harry was practically deciding her future without consulting her – he was just one in a long line of many men who were trying to do the same. Her anger over the situation consumed her.

Bellatrix reached for her wand. Before she fully realized what she was doing, she had already shouted the hex. "Claudeo!" It wasn't the basic leg-locking jinx they were taught in defense, no, this was one she had learned by herself. Far faster and more powerful, it was nonetheless one she considered to be child's play. If she was lucky, he wouldn't be fully incapacitated by the time she was through with him. If he was any good, he'd at least try to put up a fight.

Harry's senses, honed by years of battle, kicked into overdrive at the feeling of magic gathering behind him. Quicker than his opponent thought possible, he dropped, rolled to the side, and came up on one knee, his wand drawn. The leg-locking curse splashed against the wall next to him harmlessly. Before the light from the impact had faded, his wand was already moving, flashing through the motions of a banishing charm.

The spell hit Bellatrix full force; the surprised witch had barely been able to follow his dodge. The wall was hard and painful, she thought absently as she crumpled to the ground. Her fall saved her life as a half-dozen bolts of light speared into the wall, blasting chunks out of the solid stone the castle was built from.

At least he's taking me seriously now, she thought, laughing gleefully. At last, I'll see what he's really capable of. She rose, shaking off the cobwebs, and slid into an advanced duelling stance. Left foot forward, weight on her back foot. Wand held at eye-level, next to her right ear, the other arm extended and pointing at Harry, making a come-hither gesture.

Harry rose from his kneeling position, his wand never stopping its motion as he wordlessly conjured up three mobile shields – advanced versions of the shield charm he had just taught Snape and Lily. He advanced slowly, his eyes glinting dangerously as his combat reflexes took over. The sound of her near-maniacal laughter brought back memories, memories he would rather forget. A high-pitched squeal signalled the destruction of one of his shields, and he realized he had been standing there, frozen in place. Eyes hardening, he glared at the witch who would destroy so many lives in the future. Anger consumed him, and he suddenly found himself back in one of their many duels during the war.

Bellatrix was still giggling as she watched her second hex, a powerful stunner, stream from the tip of her wand towards its target, only to be intercepted and extinguish itself by his shields in a flare of violet light. "Discedo!" she shouted, sending a blundgeoning spell at him, only to watch it expend itself on the same shield that had intercepted her previous attacks.

"Reducto!" Harry roared, causing the young witch to spin to the side to let the blasting curse pass by her side, her wand and eyes never leaving her opponent – just the way she had been taught. And then two things happened simultaneously that caused her to freeze in terror. Meeting Harry's eyes was like staring into an oncoming killing curse. The were flaring green orbs cold and devoid of emotion. Then the blasting curse hit the wall behind her, rocking her off her feet with the force of the explosion as it blasted a six-foot crater into the solid stone wall.

He's trying to kill me! she realized with a start, adrenaline flooding her body. She scrambled to the side as another spell impacted the ground where she had been not too long ago. Reacting on instinct and muscle memory, she slid into a defensive stance, conjuring up the most powerful shields she could muster.

"Perditio." The word was uttered quietly, but her acute hearing picked it up, and her heart stopped beating. The disintegration spell impacted her shield, bathing her in blue light. Her shield failed, and she found herself contemplating that it might have been a huge mistake to goad Harry Ashworth into a duel as the remainder of the spell hit her. The bolt tossed her backwards, sending her crashing into a desk, and a searing pain spread across her chest.

Bellatrix allowed herself a second to lie in the rubble, playing possum. All right, if he wants to play that way, fine. She rose, her face a mask of barely restrained fury. "Telum Aquilus." She slid forward, her wand twirling in her right hand as spell after spell passed from its tip. The bolts of dark magic flew towards him, a dozen strong.

Let's see him dodge this, she thought grimly.

It turned out he didn't have to. With a grand wave of his wand and a roared "Incommendatus!" motes of white light sprang from the tip of his wand, intercepting each and every one of her spells.

"What the . . . " Bellatrix muttered in surprise and shock. She caught herself after a split second and resumed her offensive, barraging him with spell after spell, the curses and hexes flowing freely as her wand fluidly streaked through the air, tracing patterns with its glowing tip. She kept moving, changing positions to make it harder for him to retaliate. With a victorious sneer, she finally found herself with a clear shot at his back. Raising her wand to deliver the finishing blow, she failed to notice the desk sailing at her from her left.

The wooden desk careened into her flank, shattering her concentration and downing her yet again. She coughed, and frowned when her hand came away bloody. She could taste the faint coppery metallic taste of blood on her lips and in her mouth, and grew angry again. Shoving off the debris off of herself, she searched the room for her opponent. She didn't find him, as she was forced to duck as textbooks and pieces of rock came flying at her from all angles, forcing her to duck and cover. The hail of fragments didn't pass, though, as they curved around and aimed for her again.

I've got to get moving. I can't stay here, I'm a sitting duck – and he knows exactly where I am. Leaping to her feet, Bellatrix suppressed a groan as half a table leg struck her lower back, causing her to stumble before she got her shields up.

"Expulso!" she screamed with a grand wave of her wand, sending all the debris that had been aiming for her clattering away into the trashed classroom.

I can't breach his shields, so I'll have to out-maneuver him, she thought to herself as she realized that Harry hadn't moved much during the entire fight. He had taken a few steps forward after their initial exchange, but for the most part he appeared content to just stay where he was and let his shields take the punishment. That arrogant little jerk.

Digging deeper into her own private duelling training, she rose to her feet. There was no way she could block his attacks – they were much too powerful. There was no way she could run around him to take his back, either – all he had to do was pivot to keep her in his field of vision. He had the proverbial high ground. Her heart pounded as she contemplated what she was going to do next – Harry had his head cocked to the side, a sneer on his face as he watched her with a level stare, waiting for her to make her next move.

"Attonbitus!" she shouted, exaggerating her wand motions deliberately. Harry didn't flinch and raised yet another shield with a mere wave of his wand. Bellatrix grinned. She finally had him.

"Perditio!"

When Harry returned fire, Bellatrix was waiting. Instead of dodging or shielding herself, she slid a half-step backwards and turned her body sideways. Her wand flicked through the air as she muttered the incantation. "Intertio!"

Her spell flew true, intercepting his in mid-flight, causing a cascade of light that she would have thought pretty under other circumstances. With a smug grin, she realized that Harry hadn't been expecting her to counter his attacks.

"Reducto!"

"Intertio!"

Once again, her spell intercepted his, but this time she didn't wait for him to cast again. Using the flashing of the two spells impacting each other as a distraction, she sprang forward, stunners and blasting hexes flowing freely from her wand. She didn't expect any of them to actually get through, but that was not what she had been aiming for. The barrage of spellfire blasted Harry's shields, turning it opaque as light washed over it in waves.

And behind his shield, he never saw her coming. With a triumphant yell, she thrust her wand arm forward, knocking his wand to the side as she brought her arm around in a wide circle that ended with her wand pointing right at his nose. It was one of the basics of advanced duelling, one she barely remembered because she had nearly discarded it as useless. After all, the times when wizards fought close encounters and had need of ways to block an enemy's wand movements were long gone.

She was about to utter the incantation for the spell that would end this fight when his reflexes saved him. The left hook caught her utterly by surprise, and she could hear her nose break with a sickening crack. Stumbling backward from the blow, her vision swam from the viciousness of the attack. She scrambled backwards as Harry raised his wand, its tip glowing with barely-restrained energy. She tried to look defiant, glaring at him, but realized that the only thing she resembled was a very frightened young girl as she hugged herself, having lost hold of her wand when he'd struck her.

"Die." It was the first word he'd said during the entire battle, and it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

I don't want to die, not like this, not yet . . .

"Evito."

It was an odd choice, to use a variant of an ancient predecessor to the killing curse to finish her, Bellatrix realized in what probably was the last instant of her life. She closed her eyes, waiting for the yellow light to wash over her. Does death hurt?

The crack of thunder echoed around the trashed classroom, and Bellatrix carefully cracked her eyes open, staring in disbelief at the scene before her. The wand had apparently misfired, because it was now a charred lump lying in the corner. The front of Harry's robes were singed, and he was lying ten feet away, knocked out cold.

Bellatrix let out a relieved sigh, refusing to admit to herself how terrified she had been. She kicked him in the ribs to confirm he really was unconscious and slumped against the door to the classroom tiredly, her thoughts racing. Don't ever attack him, ever. Not if you want to stay alive.

~!~!~!~!

Consciousness slowly returned to Harry, though his memory was sluggish. He couldn't quite remember why he was unconscious – had he been knocked off his broom again by Malfoy during a Quidditch match? Slowly, he groaned and opened his eyes to look around, expecting to find himself in the hospital wing. The grey walls that were identical everywhere in the castle didn't tell him much, but the fact that he wasn't lying on a comfortable bed did. Craning his head to the side, he realized that he was in the empty classroom he had been using to teach Snape and Lily, but, for some reason, it now looked like a war zone.

"Finally awake?"

Blinking his eyes, Harry craned his head back to look straight up, and found himself staring into Bellatrix's face point-blank. "What happened?" he croaked, his throat uncharacteristically dry. Her face was smeared with dried blood and there was a nasty burn mark on her chest, just below her collarbone.

"I took a shot at your back just for fun and you reacted as if I'd tried to kill you."

"Oh." Harry coughed, closing his eyes again as the memory of the duel returned. How could he have let himself loose control like that? Confusing Bellatrix with her older counterpart was stupid. She wasn't the same person – hell, she didn't even look the same! The older Bellatrix was a gaunt, tired, sickly looking woman whose eyes glinted with insanity and madness. The girl was young, her hair shimmering with the same life that seemed to have abandoned her older counterpart. More importantly, her eyes were alive, lacking the crazed, depraved, and cruel look that would enter them sometime in the future, brought on by years of violence and torture.

"How're you holding up?" he finally asked.

"Been better," Bellatrix tried to snort, but clutched her nose in pain.

"I'm sorry about your nose and everything. I guess my reflexes got the better of me."

Bellatrix arched a skeptical eyebrow, but he sounded so miserable and sincere that she was almost tempted to reassure him that it was all right. Almost. "You're going to have to make it up to me, Ashworth," she said instead, trying to milk the situation for what it was worth, even more intrigued now about the young man whose mystery was growing by the minute.

"Am I?"

"You'll let me practice with you whenever I want," she replied evenly, having already rehearsed her list of demands while he was unconscious. "I don't know if you were paying attention, but neither of us performed anywhere close to professionally." She smartly kept her mouth shut about the fact that if his wand hadn't backfired, he would easily have been able to kill her, never mind his unrefined dueling skills.

"No way," Harry said. "You saw what just happened."

Bellatrix glared at him. "Maybe I'll just tell Dumbledore that you assaulted me." She hated resorting to blackmail – it was so . . . primitive. She much preferred the more elegant approaches of tempting or seducing people in order to get what she wanted, or simply outsmarting them, but if it worked, then she was going to use it.

"Fine," he said after a moment. "We'll practice. It might come in useful." Harry wasn't pleased at all, though Bellatrix's demand wasn't all that unreasonable. He supposed he could bring up the point that she had used dark magic, but he also knew that it wouldn't hold up against the basic fact that he could have killed her.

"Excellent." Bellatrix was surprised at his suddent change in attitude, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, she let out a contended sigh and leaned back against the door of the room.

Harry decided that he wouldn't mind leaning against the stone wall, himself, and dragged himself over to join her. Sitting up was better than lying prone on the ground, after all. They sat quietly, mostly tring to come to grips with what had just happened. Harry couldn't help but wince when he saw her dabbing at her nose to stem the bleeding.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Bellatrix waved him off. "At least I can see how you survived all the fighting, even if your dueling is lousy. Your reflexes are pretty sharp, and that one caught me by surprise."

They sat silently, Harry not really feeling up to responding. However, he eventually found a need to speak. "Err . . . did you see my wand, by any chance?"

Bellatrix produced a charred lump of wood from her robes. "You'll need a new one," she deadpanned.

No kidding, Harry thought as he turned it over in his hands, parts of it instantly crumbling under his touch. "Think it can be fixed?" He briefly thought back to Ron's tape-and bubblegum fixed wand.

Bellatrix gave him an are-you-kidding look. "Why, yes, I think a little water will wash that soot right off, and there's nothing a little wood glue wouldn't fix."

Harry stared at her unusual display of humor. When he remained silent, she shook her head with a sigh. "What? Don't tell me they didn't teach you sarcasm? Anyway," she waved the conversation on, "it's a piece of crap regardless."

"How so?"

"For starters, just look at it! I mean, who wants a wand that has been carved with stupid designs like this one has? Then, of course, there's the source of your wand – Wanda and Wandel's."

"What about them?"

"They – or rather, their daughter and son-in-law – are the worst wandmakers in Britain! In fact, they don't even make their own wands. They import them from some cheap operation in China. It's probably bamboo and you couldn't identify the core inside the damn thing if you tried." Bellatrix smirked. "Ollivander's is the only place to buy a wand in this country if you don't want it blowing up in your face like this. I'd reckon you'd know that." There was a triumphant glint in her eyes. He's hiding something. He has to know about Ollivanders, and there's got to be a reason he didn't just get a wand from there.

"Right," Harry said as the rest of his wand crumbled in his hands. He supposed he would have to stop by Ollivander's at some time to pick up a new wand. He just fervently hoped it wouldn't be overly suspicious. Ollivander seemed to know everyone – heck, Ollivander had even known him before he had ever set foot in his shop the first time! In the meantime, though, he reckoned that his cheap wand had served him well enough.

"So, did you come to see me about anything specific, or did you just want to initiate a brawl?"

"Yes," Bellatrix replied. "I just finished a list of students at Hogwarts who have influential parents that you might want to get to know. Depending on what you have planned, their support might help or hurt your position." She reached into her robes and handed him a piece of folded-up parchment.

Harry briefly glanced through the list, impressed that her idea actually had some merit. He didn't know enough about the current situation yet to be comfortable in advancing his plans, so feeling out any potential support or opposition would help. He also noticed the names of a few rather prominent future Death Eaters on the list. Getting to know those might provide some valuable intelligence on Voldemort's current activities.

With a triumphant smirk, Bellatrix watched as Harry pondered over the list of names she had produced. "Slughorn used to invite several of his students to private dinners in his quarters," she added. "I was thinking you might start doing the same. Maybe reel in some invitations by their parents if you're liked by the students."

Harry nodded absently as he continued down the list. Aside from future opposition, he also recognized several others that would be instrumental in the Order of the Phoenix in the coming years, such as Bones, Prewitt, and Abbot. "All right," he said after a moment. "But I'll need some time to review this list and see if there's anyone else I'd like to add."

"Also, you aren't going to be able to invite everyone at once. Especially since some of them don't get along with each other," Bellatrix cautioned. "You might want to divide our list into groups that we can take care of one at a time."

Harry arched an eyebrow at her choice of words, but decided to say nothing. Her idea was sound – he could invite groups of potential Death Eaters one time and pretend to be a first-rate dark wizard, or at least someone who was sympathetic to the pureblood cause, and then invite the other half and put on an entirely different act. It would let him feel out both groups at the same time.

"I'll get the house elves to organize the food and drink. You just let me know when and where, and I'll have it arranged," Bellatrix offered.

"All right." Harry wasn't sure whether to be grateful or suspicious that she was offering to do work. It would help free up his time to plan, but he wasn't really sure what she was playing at. "I've got lesson plans to review, and you should go get your injuries looked at. That burn looks nasty, and your nose is still bleeding. Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Don't be stupid. If you show up with me, there'll be a lot more questions."

"Right."

"Though a cleaning spell would be nice. I don't need everyone in the castle seeing me walking around dripping blood everywhere. I've got an image to maintain."

10. Smoke, Flames, and Wands

A/N: Your reviews are appreciated. This isn't the longest chapter, but I'd like to think we've moved things along plot-wise.

Chapter 9

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Harry's first opportunity to attend a Hogwarts staff meeting arrived far sooner than he would have liked—or perhaps it was far too late. If the first staff meeting had come to pass earlier, he might have been able to avoid an awkward subject that would inevitably be brought up at the meeting Professor McGonagall had pointedly invited him to attend. Deliberately timing his arrival, Harry slipped into the teacher's lounge and sat down on a corner chair just as Professor Dumbledore stood to call the meeting to order.

"Let us begin," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling as his gaze passed over each staff member. It was as if the headmaster enjoyed nothing more than having a good staff meeting. Harry, on the other hand, was terribly intimidated by the other professors and dreading the attention that would come his way.

"I regret that we've been unable to meet prior to this time," Dumbledore continued. "As luck would have it, the post-holiday season has been busier for me than even the holiday season was. However, I'm sure that the lack of a staff meeting has been no impediment to your teaching."

A few of the teachers shifted a little in their seats as if agreeing. Harry wondered if perhaps they considered these meetings to be a little bit of a waste of time. He supposed that he would soon know for himself.

Dumbledore passed a small stack of parchment sheets to Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Filch has informed me that several new . . . humor producing products have been introduced to the public recently. He fears that certain students may have stocked up over the holidays. He naturally has added them to the list of banned items."

Harry took his copy of the list and barely glanced at it.

Dumbledore didn't seem to expect anyone to study Filch's list closely either. Almost immediately, he moved onto other items. The OWLs and NEWTs had been scheduled for the same days they were always administered, the prefects had been patrolling the halls and encountering only the usual problems, Professor Carmichael's dog had been fed a love potion—Potter, Black, et al. were probably responsible, and the Slytherins were seeming more unruly than usual—couldn't Professor Dewey get a handle on them? Harry wondered if this Dewey fellow was as biased for Slytherin as Snape was. He certainly looked like an unpleasant sort of person.

The next subject, unfortunately, applied to Harry.

"Normally, I would wait until the end of the meeting to do introductions, but I think it might be appropriate to formally introduce our Potions instructor, Harry Ashworth, to all of you," Dumbledore said. "I realize that we're long overdue in personally acquainting you with the rest of the staff, Mr. Ashworth, but would you nevertheless humor us by telling us a little about yourself?"

Harry suppressed a sigh, wondering if he was supposed to stand up. Doing so would make him feel even more like a student, so he opted to remain sitting and to keep his introduction short. "I'm Harry Ashworth. Basically, I'm from Australia. I recently arrived here and was fortunate enough to get hired to teach potions until Professor Slughorn is able to return. I'm rather impressed with the students and this school. I never thought that I'd have the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts." Seeing that he was already losing the interest of the staff, Harry concluded his remarks, hoping that he had not made too much of a fool of himself.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said, looking as if he really meant it.

This was then followed by each of the staff introducing themselves at Dumbledore's prompting. They all said their name and some of them even mentioned what subject they taught. Harry sensed that they weren't really interested in making his acquaintance. Either they were anticipating that his tenure would be short or they thought him inconsequential or both.

"Our next topic of interest," Dumbledore said as soon as introductions had concluded, "is yesterday's incident in the first-year potion class."

Harry winced. This was the awkward subject he had not been looking forward to. He supposed that he would just have to get it over with quickly. "The first-year Hufflepuff Stebbins melted a cauldron," Harry stated succinctly.

The head of Hufflepuff house took offense at this. "Are you implying something, Mr. Ashworth?"

Once he thought about it, Harry realized he had been implying something, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Of course not, Ms. Carmichael," Harry said blandly, trying not to snigger at the thought of her love-potioned dog. "The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors share that potion class. I was merely referring to the specific class in which the incident occurred."

Professor Carmichael didn't seem satisfied with Harry's response, but there wasn't much she could say.

Harry continued. "Normally, the melting of a cauldron isn't so serious, but Stebbins had been using the wrong ingredients and the spilled potion came into contact with his partner's potion ingredient kit. That kind of started a long chain reaction and things got pretty bad. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey took care of everything."

Stupid Stebbins, Harry groused silently. One look at him and Professor Snape would hail Neville as a genius potions master.

The rest of the professors were not impressed. "Why didn't you do something to stop the situation from getting as bad as it did?" Professor Bennings asked.

Harry felt his ears begin to burn red. He had been hoping that this would not come up. "Err . . . it turns out that just the day before I had been practicing some spells, and my wand exploded. Apparently Wanda and Wandel's are not representative of England's better wandmakers. The bottom line is that I don't exactly have a wand with me these days. I haven't had a chance to get out and replace it yet."

Professor Dewey muttered something about hiring Muggles to teach at Hogwarts and Harry felt his ears burn redder.

"I see," Dumbledore said. He seemed to be amused. "Let us all remind ourselves that classroom safety is very important. A wand can be a very useful tool even when we're in situations that normally don't require them. I'm sure that you'll find a replacement wand soon, Mr. Ashworth. It might be better if you avoided certain wandmakers."

"Of course," Harry mumbled.

~!~!~!~!

"I'm not sure what Romulus Malfoy was thinking when he practically forced that Ashworth fellow on us," McGonagall commented to Dumbledore after Professor Binns had finally floated away, leaving her and the headmaster alone.

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I would give a great deal to know what Mr. Malfoy was thinking, too. I'm sure that once Mr. Ashworth gets the hang of things, he will turn out to be a fine professor."

"He is generally well liked by the students," McGonagall admitted, "but it seems rather obvious to me that he doesn't have a clue as to what he's doing in that classroom!"

"Few of us did when we first started teaching," Dumbledore said, trying to be fair.

"I suppose," McGonagall muttered. "Someone had better keep an eye on him though. He might accidentally do something far worse."

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Keeping an eye on Ashworth's . . . progress wouldn't hurt. Let me know if you notice anything interesting."

~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix peered over the top of a dueling manual and looked at Rodolphus Lestrange. He, Rabastan, Lucius Malfoy, and a select few other slugs were sitting in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room with a bottle of firewhiskey. Severus Snape sat not far away looking like he would enjoy nothing more than joining them. It was not to be his lot, however.

Rodolphus and his friends were laughing uproariously. Bellatrix was well aware of the subject of their laughter, as was every other student in the castle. It was only these fools who were doing the laughing though.

Bellatrix ground her teeth as Rodolphus began the story yet again. "And then they said 'why didn't you do something, Ashworth?' Do you know what he said then?" Guffaws ushered in the next line. "'I don't have a wand.'"

"What a pathetic excuse of a wizard he is," Lucius drawled.

Bellatrix shook her head. If you're going to drawl, drawl so you don't sound like a slack-jawed nincompoop! she thought.

"I've got an idea," one of Lestrange's cronies piped up. "Let's get some fake wands from the joke shop this weekend and send them to him with sympathy cards!"

More laughter.

Bellatrix practically threw the book the floor. Idiots! She nearly stalked away from the room angrily and even considered throwing some well-merited insults their way to take them down a peg or two, but she remembered that she was supposed to be prying information out of the Lestrange brothers. She steeled herself, stood, and sidled over to where Harry Ashworth's wizards of interest sat plotting ways to waste their time.

"Something tells me that Ashworth would catch on to what was happening by the second wand," Bellatrix announced.

They stopped and stared at her. It was Rodolphus who replied. "So, Bellatrix Black herself has deigned to favor us with her presence. I guess you would know how clever Ashworth might be. You certainly spend enough time with him, don't you?"

"That's what happens when you get detentions and screw up your homework," Bellatrix sneered at them. "I notice you've been spending plenty of time with McGonagall lately. Trying to make something happen there?"

Lestrange growled angrily and Bellatrix thought she might have even spotted a tinge of red near his neck. She didn't miss a beat and turned to Lucius. "I've seen you in Professor Dewey's classroom more than a few times." She hadn't, but the Malfoy moron certainly would be likely to kiss-up to his head of house. Lucius's eyes widened with shock, but he didn't have a chance to retort.

"We've missed your acidic personality," Rodolphus laughed—though it did sound slightly forced to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix sat down and prepared for boredom. She knew her luck well enough to realize that there was no way Lestrange was going to spill whatever it was Ashworth was looking for very soon. There was going to be plenty of talk that would make her tired all over first—several night's worth probably. Nevertheless, she stabbed in the dark. "Tell me about you grand schemes, Lestrange. Tell me you want to do something cleverer than a first-year-prank on a professor."

~!~!~!~!

It was Hogsmeade Weekend. For some reason, Harry was excited even though he technically had the ability to visit Hogsmeade any time he so wished. Harry had already bundled up in a winter cloak and was on his way to the village, passing Filch and the long line of students with permission slips in hand. Technically, their names were on the list, but Filch was so stingy that sometimes they had to wave the pieces of parchment their parents (or friends) had signed under his nose.

Harry absently wondered whether Bellatrix would be irritated with him for leaving the castle without her. It wasn't as if he had committed to go to Hogsmeade with her, but she had taken to sticking around him on a fairly regular basis. At least an hour of her daily homework was spent on the end of his desk while he graded papers and desperately tried to plan lessons. She didn't always say much, but her facial expressions were enough. She wanted to know about his future and she wanted to practice dueling. Fortunately she had been too busy for the latter and for the former, only resorting to trying to guilt-trip him. Harry didn't think Bellatrix would ever be able to successfully guilt-trip him—especially if she ever found out about the 'you killed my godfather' that was hanging over her. Would it ever be fair to try and guilt-trip her over something her future self had done? Harry shrugged and shelved the question. He had arrived at his primary destination.

According to an owl-dropping splattered business directory Harry had found in the owlery, Zimon's was the mostly likely place once might find a wand short of going to Diagon Alley—also the only place short of shelling out the better part of a month's pay for a wand. Harry supposed he would have to pay Ollivander a visit eventually, but for some reason, he just didn't feel like going all that distance so he could be dissected by Ollivander's mystical, gray eyes.

Harry entered Zimon's and eyed the bell that had announced his presence. It kind of looked like it might have been made from bone. Could bone even make a ringing noise? Apparently so—it had woken up the shopkeeper who was presumably Zimon. The place didn't look prosperous enough to have any employees.

"What are you in the market for, son?"

Great, Harry thought, he's marked me as a Hogwarts student. "I'm looking to browse through your collection of used wands," Harry announced, looking around to see if he might discover where to look before the man gave him directions. Used clothing, books, and other articles littered the shop. He supposed this must be the sort of place the Weasley family was accustomed to shopping at. Harry pushed the thought out. He didn't need to get all worked up about losing his friends from the future.

"Over there," the proprietor yawned, gesturing vaguely.

Harry nodded his thanks and made his way in the direction Zimon had pointed. On a shelf next to some expired potion ingredients he found a box of wands. Harry picked up the box and began rummaging through it. There were all sorts of wands and each had a price tag attached to one end. Eventually, he found two that seemed to feel right—a very pale one whose touch hinted at stickiness and a darker one that had probably been used by someone not used to washing their hands. Harry couldn't make up his mind about which to buy, so he ended up buying both of them for a few sickles, rationalizing to himself that it was only wise to have a spare on hand, at least until he could get to Diagon Alley and buy a proper wand.

With his new set of used wands, Harry wandered down the street to the Three Broomsticks. The visit to Hogsmeade had created in him a desire for some butterbeer. He stepped in from the cold, winter air to find the pub filled with Hogwarts students and the occasional adult. Most of the students were conversing , filling the room with a somewhat loud babble. Harry ordered at the bar and was able to find a small booth where he could sit in peace. He wasn't so sure that trying to sit down with any of the students would be a good idea.

For entertainment, he contented himself with trying to name as many of the students as possible. Technically, he had the vast majority of them in his classes. He ended up doing pretty well, some names came more easily. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were sitting at a table laughing merrily. Harry wondered how it could be that Peter had found himself betraying his parents in the future. It certainly seemed like his fellow Marauders were treating him well enough.

Harry wondered where his teenage mother was. Surely she wasn't the type to skip a Hogsmeade visit. He soon received the answer to his question when he overheard a girl talking in a booth not far from him, but out of eyesight.

"I bet I know who Lily fancies!" said one rather high-pitched girl.

"Who?" squealed another.

"It's Professor Ashworth, of course," said the first.

"You don't know that!" came Lily's voice.

"She's blushing!" squealed the second in an even more high-pitched voice.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or go to the bathroom and throw up.

"Butterbeer too strong for the likes of you?"

Harry looked up and discovered Bellatrix standing above him, her arms folded. Apparently, she had found him. "Err . . . no, it's fine. I love butterbeer," Harry said.

"So what's bothering you?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "I just need to get out of here. It's a little too crowded."

"I haven't even ordered anything yet," Bellatrix said.

"You don't have to leave," Harry said as he stood and prepared to abandon his booth.

With a frown, Bellatrix moved to follow him. "I'll just follow you," she said.

Harry felt kind of sheepish , but nevertheless, he made his way to the door with Bellatrix. "I was thinking you might have taken the opportunity to get in with Lestrange or something," Harry said casually.

"I did," Bellatrix said, "but Lestrange, his friends, and I only stayed together for a little bit. We kind of got separated."

"Oh," Harry said as they stepped out into the street. Apparently she had been trying to do something useful. He now felt kind of guilty. Last week, he had beaten the snot out of her, and then this week he had practically hustled her out of the Leaky Cauldron before she had been able to order anything. He supposed he owed her something. "Why don't we go somewhere else," Harry suggested. "There's got to be more than one pub in town."

"That would be nice," Bellatrix commented. She was looking toward the tea shop that Harry knew would in one future day be named after the infamous Madam Puddifoot.

"There?" he asked, wincing.

Bellatrix snickered. "Not unless you want to get fired for trying to romance a student."

Harry suddenly felt the probability of his being sick skyrocket. "Do you know a good place?"

"Sure," Bellatrix said. "I think there's something down this way." She nodded toward a side street and the two started walking in that direction. "There's another, smaller commercial center of town. If you're a student and want to sneak out of the castle for a visit to Hogsmeade, it's wiser to go there than to the other shops that know for sure that you're a student."

"Clever," Harry said, wondering why he had not sneaked out of the castle more often when he was a student.

Bellatrix seemed to read his mind. "Did you sneak out of the castle often when you were a student?"

"Not really," Harry said.

"I see."

They walked on for a bit in silence, Bellatrix hoping that Harry might talk more about his time at school without realizing that she was essentially interrogating him about his past. Unfortunately, Harry simply was not in a talkative mood at that moment and ultimately did not volunteer any new information.

"Here's a good place," Bellatrix announced, pointing to a small café. The café had a wooden sign hanging in front of the door. Painted on the sign was a wizard in blue. There didn't seem to be a name though. Bellatrix explained this. "Ownership of this place has passed through so many hands that no one ever bothers to name it anymore."

Harry nodded and the two of them walked in together. There were a few customers: a man drowsing at a table with a Daily Prophet, a few old ladies gossiping with each other, and a couple of wizards that looked like they might be having a small business meeting. The server eventually noticed them and gestured for Harry and Bellatrix to have a seat. She soon came over and asked what they would like to eat.

Harry wasn't sure what to say because no menu had been provided. Bellatrix noted Harry's hesitation and ordered soup and sandwiches for both of them. The server left, but returned with two glasses and a pitcher of water. After she left again, Bellatrix took it upon herself to push the conversation along. "Did you ever have a girlfriend, Ashworth?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, deliberating in his mind whether he wanted to answer the question. "Sort of," he finally admitted. His first thought was Cho—the wintery Hogsmeade weekend and the sighting of the tea shop had reminded him of his unfortunate outing with her. But then his thoughts turned to Ginny. He looked out the window to the street as he dwelled on Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family.

Bellatrix didn't say anything for a moment. After a little bit, she opted to prod Harry for more. "Sort of?"

"My best-mate's little sister," he admitted forlornly. "We started dating for a bit, but then things got busy. Eventually, she died . . . I guess. Perhaps we should have dated anyway. Some would have been better than none."

"I see," Bellatrix said quietly, turning to the pitcher to fill up her glass with some water. It was probably time to change the subject. "Maybe you could give me more details about what I'm looking for with regard to the Lestrange slugs."

Harry was happy to talk about something else. "I'm pretty sure that Lestrange is acquainted with or will be acquainted with certain persons of interest. Establishing that the connection exists and with whom it exists is important."

Bellatrix sighed. "Hogsmeade weekend is the perfect opportunity for the Lestranges to meet up with whoever you're interested in. I really did try to stay with them."

Harry shrugged. "We all do what we can."

"I'm sure that there will be more opportunities as time passes," Bellatrix said optimistically. "I'll just have to gain their trust a little bit more and maybe they'll start talking."

"They don't already trust you?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I have the family name and a reputation as a sharp witch, but I can't say that I've ever really been with the in-crowd."

Harry frowned. Bellatrix's statement didn't seem to align with his impression of how things had worked with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Bellatrix had practically been Voldemort's second-in-command. On the other hand, Harry couldn't particularly say that he was cognizant of the Death Eater social situation from the future. Though, the more he thought about it, Harry realized that there was a difference between evil Bellatrix and the rest of the Death Eaters. She was actually devoted, the others had other motivations for following Voldemort—everything from social pressures to hopes of cashing in on Voldemort's promises.

"Do you think I'm lying?" Bellatrix asked.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I was just trying to process that information."

"Process the information?" Bellatrix snickered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Harry said.

There was silence during which the server arrived with a platter of sandwiches and two bowls of soup. Harry nodded graciously while Bellatrix picked up her spoon and began stirring slowly as she thought to herself. Eventually, she came to a conclusion. "You were trying to reconcile what I said about myself to what you know of me from the future."

"Well . . . ah, hem," Harry sounded, trying to think of something to say.

"What was your conclusion?"

Harry sighed. "What you said fits with what I remember."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

More silence.

"Did we know each other well?" Bellatrix asked.

Had Harry not been so emotionally tied to the war against the Death Eaters, he would have laughed. However, it was hard for him to summon any mirth over anything tied to that subject. "We were acquainted," Harry admitted.

"Well of course we must have been," Bellatrix mused. "After all, you inherited the Black estate somehow. You probably were acquainted with a lot of Blacks."

Harry shrugged. Depending on how one looked at it, the answer could be affirmative or negative.

"How did you obtain my hair ornament though? I must have trusted you a great deal to let you even touch it. Most people don't even know that it exists."

"Suffice it to say, you died and it fell into my hands—sort of." Harry stated. Technically, it had already been in his hands during the moments before her suicide.

Bellatrix gasped and her face paled. "I died? Are you saying that in less than twenty-five years I will, or rather, could have died?"

Harry wanted to say that her death had not come soon enough, but felt that it probably wasn't an appropriate thing to say. This Bellatrix had not yet done anything to merit his hate—at least, he didn't think so. "When I was taken to the past, you were dead," Harry said blandly.

"How did it happen?" Bellatrix demanded, her spoon lying forgotten in the soup.

"I'm sure it's irrelevant," Harry said.

"Not if knowing can prevent it from happening in this timeline," Bellatrix growled angrily.

Harry smiled. It's easy. Don't take your bloody hair ornament and shove it into your chest, he thought. He said something different, however. "The exact situation is unlikely to reoccur," Harry said.

"I want to know," Bellatrix said.

"I'm not going to tell you," Harry said. The expression on her face caused him to change his mind—slightly. "Perhaps I'll tell you another time. You've got lots of time before it even matters," Harry assured her. "It's a very simple thing to prevent."

Bellatrix stared at Harry coldly for several seconds before nodding. "All right, but I'm going to hold you to that."

"No problem," Harry said, smiling weakly.

He reached for his own spoon and began eating his soup. Bellatrix, however, seemed to have lost her appetite. Instead of eating, she was staring at Harry with a blank expression on her face.

"Are you my son?" she asked.

Harry began choking on his soup. "No," he sputtered.

"Are we related by blood?"

"Given that purebloods interbreed incessantly, I'm sure we're related somehow," Harry replied.

"You're a pureblood then?"

"Half-blood," Harry said.

"I see," Bellatrix said, her hand reaching toward a sandwich.

Silently, Harry hoped that she would take one, put it in her mouth, and stop talking. His wish was granted and Harry was blessed with silence. His eyes were drawn to the window and he began studying the shops and residences across the street, wondering if paying a visit to any of these shops he'd never seen before would be worth his while. As he watched, something caught his eye.

"Isn't that Lestrange and some of his cronies coming out of that alley?" Harry asked, craning his neck and squinting to get a better look.

Bellatrix was still chewing her sandwich, but she turned and looked in time to see their retreating back as they walked down the street. She nodded and swallowed. "So they ditched me to come to this part of town, eh?"

"Looks that way," Harry said. "I wonder if they were meeting someone."

"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Whatever they did, they didn't want to be seen. Both the shop and that house have perfectly good front doors."

Harry nodded, studying the shop and house next to it. The house was well-kept, and the shop advertised itself as being an antique store. "Neither of those places appear to be . . . shady," he commented to Bellatrix.

"Probably nothing," she said dismissively.

Harry doubted it, but he didn't really have any better ideas as to what Lestrange and his buddies could have been up to. He allowed his thoughts to wander. Should he tell Bellatrix more about the future and himself? It probably wouldn't hurt. On the other hand, he didn't really want to. Did he need to though?

"Uh, Ashworth?"

"What?" Harry grunted.

"I think I figured out what Lestrange was doing." Bellatrix announced.

"What?"

Bellatrix gestured toward the antique shop. "He just set that place on fire."

Harry jerked his head toward the shop. Smoke was just beginning to pour from one of the windows and a hint of flame could be seen through the other. "Unbelievable," he growled. He jumped up and began striding toward the door. "I'd better do something."

"No," Bellatrix declared, "we'd better do something." She jumped up and carelessly flung some coins on their table before chasing Harry out into the street.

The smoke had gotten the attention of a few people and a small crowd was beginning to gather in front of the shop. "Are there any firefighters we can call?" Harry asked Bellatrix.

Bellatrix shook her head no. "Wizards and witches usually don't have fire problems like this. I'm sure someone is contacting the Ministry though."

"They'll be too late," Harry said urgently. "There might be someone in there or something I need to see that Lestrange wanted destroyed. I'm going in." He drew one of his newly acquired wands.

"What's that?" Bellatrix demanded.

"I picked it up at Zimon's," Harry said.

Bellatrix sighed and drew her wand. "I'll go with you."

Harry and Bellatrix trotted up to the front door of the shop. Seeing that it was an emergency and that it probably didn't matter too much, Harry opted to take down the door quickly. "Reducto!" The door exploded into splinters and Harry rushed in with Bellatrix on his heels.

Immediately, they began coughing. Smoke had filled the room and one of the walls was burning. Harry used his wand to shoot water at the nearest flames. Much to Harry's annoyance, the water seemed to have no effect on the fire.

"This isn't fiendfyre," Bellatrix said loudly, "but it's the next thing to it. Very Dark."

"Bugger," Harry managed to cough out while Bellatrix cast some charm that seemed to repel the smoke from them a little. He tried to think of a good way to counter fire made from Dark magic, but his mind was coming up dry.

Bellatrix had already considered the countering option and dismissed it. "There's no way you can overcome this," she said urgently. "You'd have to fight fire with fire and unleashing fiendfyre isn't going to help anybody. We've got to do what you want and get out!"

Bellatrix had given Harry an idea though. Harry had thought of Hermione's bluebell flames and was wondering how they might be able to play into the situation. He swept his wand to the wall adjoining the burning wall and shouted the incantation, hoping that he had remembered correctly. Blue fire shot from his wand and leapt onto the wall.

"Are you crazy?" Bellatrix screamed.

"Maybe," Harry shouted. "The bluebell flames are harmless to us. There's nothing to lose."

They watched for a brief moment as the Dark fire that was consuming the wall at an alarming pace met with the bluebell flames that Harry had conjured. Harry was relieved when he saw that the Dark fire didn't consume the surface that the bluebell flames were on.

"Good work," Bellatrix called. "Let's move!"

Harry nodded and moved through a doorway into a larger room. Behind him, Bellatrix was copying the spell and shooting bluebell flames everywhere that wasn't already on fire. Soon, even the floor was burning blue.

The larger room appeared to be the antique dealer's showroom. However, most of the antiques appeared to have been severely damaged or destroyed—the fire was worse in this room. Harry decided that Lestrange must have started the fire here.

"There's no one here," he called, after checking around. "Let's keep moving."

Harry and Bellatrix dashed through the rest of the room and found themselves in a small backroom with a staircase. Bellatrix poked her wand at the staircase and it began burning blue. They ran up the flaming staircase and found themselves in a hallway.

"Separate!" Bellatrix yelled as she ran down the hall and used her wand to destroy a door. She dashed in and Harry did likewise, finding his own door to break through.

He found an empty store room that was already on fire. He retreated and wished that he had not destroyed the door that could have prevented those flames from spreading into the hall. He wasted no time and was soon searching another room and then yet another. He had just searched his last when he heard Bellatrix shout.

He rushed toward where Bellatrix's voice had come from and found her in a room standing over an unconscious wizard.

"He's still alive," Bellatrix said. "Can you side-along Apparate him out of here?"

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to think of the last time he'd Apparated in tandem. It was funny how one could get distracted by such trivial things in the middle of an emergency.

"I'll see you outside," Bellatrix said. She turned and disappeared with a pop.

Harry grabbed the unconscious wizard and tried to force him into a convenient position. He waved his wand and in a pop, Harry found himself standing outside with the wizard in his grasp.

~!~!~!~!

Professor Dumbledore appeared with a pop slightly down the street from the burning shop. Several other pops echoed his and he spotted Ministry employees arriving and rushing toward the fire. He too walked in that direction, but not nearly as quickly. Alastor Moody had alerted him via the Floo that there was a fire in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had opted to look into the incident. There had been too many such incidents lately.

What he saw, or rather, heard, as he approached the former antiques shop surprised him. It was Bellatrix Black.

"Pine? Pine! Nobody makes wands from pine!"

A voice that sounded like that of Harry Ashworth's mumbled something.

Dumbledore resisted the urge to laugh at the conversation. As he came closer, Ashworth and Black came into sight, as well as an unconscious wizard lying on the ground while being looked over by a mediwitch and some aurors.

"Look, Ashworth," Bellatrix said, "if this is about money, I'll pay for you to go to Ollivander and buy a decent wand!"

"It's not about money," Ashworth groused.

"Then what is it about?"

Dumbledore shook his head thoughtfully as he moved past the two and their ongoing discussion. He spotted Moody and moved quickly to the aged auror. "Alastor," Dumbledore said by way of greeting.

"Albus," Moody nodded. He gestured to the shop. "Basically we can see that someone deliberately set this place on fire. That sort of Dark magic doesn't happen accidentally, and even if it was an accident, it doesn't happen in such a precise way. Someone wanted this place to turn into a heap of ashes real fast. They probably wanted that guy dead as well."

"This is not good," Dumbledore said slowly. "I suppose Mr. Ashworth and Ms. Black are involved."

"Apparently they rushed into the shop and saved the guy."

"How extraordinary," Dumbledore said. "I hope no one can say that either of them might have set the fire in the first place."

From the expression on Moody's face, Dumbledore could see that the aged auror wished that it was the other way around. "All the witnesses agree that those two weren't in a position to start the fire themselves," Moody said. "I checked that theory out already."

"Yet the question as to why they rushed into a burning building remains, I suppose," Dumbledore said.

"Could be anything from heroism or criminal stupidity," Moody growled. "I'll give them one thing though—they did some neat spellwork in there. By the time that Dark fire burns out, there will still be portions of the shop standing."

"Not very much though," Dumbledore noted as he glanced at the flames consuming the outside walls of the shop.

"When you're dealing with that sort of fire, anything at all is impressive." Moody commented, giving a sidelong glance down the street at Harry and Bellatrix who were still discussing something in somewhat heated voices.

Dumbledore fought the urge to burst into laughter as he heard Bellatrix's reaction to whatever it was Ashworth had said.

"Bamboo?"

~!~!~!~!~!

One week later, Harry sat in his private apartments, slumped in an armchair.

"You're going to wrinkle your dress robes," Bellatrix reprimanded him.

"Like it matters," Harry mumbled. He picked up the Daily Prophet and looked at it aimlessly. In it was a follow up story on the antique shop fire in Hogsmeade the previous Saturday. The owner had recovered and somehow, though his shop was nearly all ashes, managed to come to the conclusion that nothing had been stolen by whomever it was that had attacked him. He had not seen the arsonist nor had Harry and Bellatrix told the Ministry anything they knew.

"I bet they're lying," Bellatrix said.

"Why would they lie?" Harry asked, wadding up the newspaper and throwing it into the fire. He didn't want to look at it again. "If something was stolen they'd be looking for it and making lots of noise, hoping to find whoever was responsible."

He turned and looked at Bellatrix. She stood immaculate in black dress robes. The robes accentuated her figure, and her hair had been done up. At the moment she was carefully examining the dinner table she had arranged to have brought to his apartments. For the third time, she was ensuring that each name card was in the right place. In the week leading up to the dinner with the future Death Eaters and other influential purebloods with slightly darker sympathies, they had often discussed the best way to arrange the seating—or rather, she had discussed and he had agreed with whatever she said. However, Bellatrix kept changing her mind about the seating arrangements.

"Yeah? Well, why did Rodolphus and his henchmen even bother? They didn't kill the guy and they didn't steal anything. Sounds like a waste of time." Bellatrix argued. "They must have done it for a reason."

"Maybe you can find out for us," Harry said.

"I'm working on it," Bellatrix replied primly, deftly picking up a few name cards and moving them to different locations.

Harry was thinking of what to say next when the flames in the fireplace changed to green and Orion Black stepped into the room.

Orion Black was not one to show surprise on his face, but Harry was willing to wager that his blank gaze at Bellatrix was him being surprised. It was short-lived however, he turned to Harry purposefully. "I need to speak with you alone."

"Err . . . right," Harry said, looking around. He had two options: ask Bellatrix to step out or invite Orion into the bedroom.

Bellatrix made the choice for him. "I'll be right back," she said, gliding to the door and disappearing into the hall.

Orion drew his wand and shut the door with a quick jab. "You were present when that shop burned down, weren't you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "How did you find out? I told the Ministry that I'd rather not have my name appear in any official reports."

"Don't worry about that," Orion said. "Do you know who is responsible for the fire?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Harry replied carefully, wondering just what sort of contacts Orion had in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Would you care to share your thoughts?" Orion asked.

"It was a Hogwarts student," Harry admitted. "I'm pretty sure that this particular student can lead me to what we're looking for."

Orion paced back and forth across the room purposefully, deep in thought. "I've been hearing rumors, Ashworth. The thing that happened at the antique shop was more serious than most people know."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Not right now," Orion said, looking toward the door that Bellatrix had exited through. "You need to increase your efforts, Ashworth. I need to know exactly what is going on!" Orion declared. "You've got to dog this student until you can get information."

"I'm working on it," Harry said, trying to sound confident and competent.

Orion seemed to accept Harry's statement. He glanced at the dinner table that had been set for about a dozen people. "What's this about?"

"It's part of my . . . uh, investigation. I'm hoping to ingratiate myself with some of the suspect students."

"You've got Bella working with you." Orion said. To Harry it sounded like both an accusation and a question.

"She volunteered to handle some of the details," Harry admitted. "Her expertise is valuable."

"Whatever," Orion mumbled. "Just don't get her killed or something. Once you find out what's going on, I want to know immediately—even if it is the middle of the night."

"Right," said Harry.

Orion nodded and strode to the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle and turned to Harry. "I'm serious about this, Ashworth. This isn't an idle curiosity for me anymore. There is something wrong in our world."

11. Mystery Dinner Theater

A/N: Your reviews are always greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Chapter 10

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

As he sipped a goblet of pumpkin juice, Harry surveyed the students sitting around the rectangular table that had been placed in his private apartments. Bellatrix had seated herself opposite him at an end of the table and was in the process of conversing with one of the Parkinson girls. Harry did not recall ever seeing Bellatrix's acquaintance in the future, but he did recognize a lot of the others sitting around the table. Some of them were talking to each other while others didn't seem anxious to socialize.

Harry didn't know enough about the entertaining of guests to assess appropriately whether Bellatrix had seated the guests well, but he wished that she had not seated Lucius Malfoy at his left and Rodolphus Lestrange on his right. Rodolphus and Lucius didn't seem to be very pleased with the arrangement either. Oddly, they were directing their uncomfortable stares at each other rather than at Harry.

"Tell me Professor," Rodolphus said in a low, silky voice, "how well do you know the Malfoy family?"

"I've only recently made their acquaintance," Harry admitted candidly. "I'm afraid I can't say that I know Lucius or his mother very well, but I've shared a few drinks with Romulus."

"I see," Rodolphus intoned, his eyes briefly flickering in Lucius's direction.

"I look forward to acquainting myself further with the Malfoys," Harry lied smoothly, attempting to extend the conversation. To bolster the statement he turned his head to Lucius. "You'll be leaving Hogwarts in just a few months, Lucius. Do you have any plans for what you're going to be doing when there is no more homework to do?"

"I think Lucius has political aspirations," Rabastan Lestrange announced from his seat which was had been placed next to his brother, Rodolphus.

"Really?" Harry asked, pretending to be surprised and intrigued. "The Ministry or perhaps even the Wizengamot?"

"The Wizengamot," Malfoy ground out from between clenched teeth.

Harry supposed that Lucius must be insulted that anyone could think he would associate himself with the plebian Ministry bureaucrats. He hid a small smile. "Is there much you can do with the Wizengamot if your father is actively holding your family seat?"

"A family seat is a family affair," Lucius replied.

"I suppose it is," Harry acknowledged, wondering just how much Lucius 's ideals paralleled with those of his father, Romulus. Will Lucius become a problem even while his father is still alive? Harry wondered. Or will the old man keep Lucius on a leash?

"Tell me," Rodolphus said, "has the Ashworth family enjoyed their time in Australia?"

"More or less," Harry replied glibly. "Some of us have found more success than others. Every family seems to have those who are lacking in . . . ambition as well as those who reek of it."

"Where do you fall?" Rodolphus asked, perhaps a little too boldly.

Harry twisted his lips into a crooked smile. "I don't lack ambition. What I lack is what you might call an outlet for my energies. Australia is a rather dim place. Most folks are there to find ways to make money. There just isn't a sense of heritage—no respect for the old ways. I'm hoping to find a richer culture—as well as some good career prospects."

"Is that what brought you to Britain?" Rabastan questioned.

"Pretty much," Harry said.

"I don't think you're on the right track," Rabastan announced while Rodolphus frowned. Apparently he felt that his brother was being too familiar with Harry.

"Oh?" Harry said.

"Unless Professor Slughorn dies before returning next year, you're automatically out of a job, aren't you?" Rabastan said.

"Yes, that's the sum of it," Harry agreed, trying to think of a way to give off the impression that he might have talents that Voldemort's future followers could appreciate. "I am skilled though. It's a shame that the Defense post won't be open for some years yet. In my travels I've come across all sorts of things that would be useful. I'm quite good in that area."

"Better than at Potions?" Rodolphus asked in what Harry construed to be a slightly snide tone of voice.

"Much better," Harry said. At this point, he decided that it would be better to end the topic at hand. It was enough that the Lestranges and Lucius knew that he was interested in opportunities; he did not want to leave the impression that he was desperate. "I've heard so much about you two, Rodolphus and Rabastan, but I've never heard a word about either of your parents. What do they do?"

Rodolphus's lips thinned and his face tightened. "They travel."

"I see," Harry replied slowly. Apparently it was a sensitive topic. He really was curious, but he didn't need to make the Lestrange brothers unhappy.

The remainder of the evening passed without incident. Harry had managed to talk to each guest for a few moments, asking about their families, their ambitions, and their interests. Bellatrix had suggested that he do that and then pursue conversation any that he thought might be key to his plans. Unfortunately, Harry had not been able to go the extra step with any but the Lestranges and Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle had been potential candidates for conversation, but after Goyle couldn't seem to remember precisely what his ambitions were, Harry decided that neither would be worth his effort.

Eventually, Bellatrix was able to escort the last guest, Crabbe's clingy sister, out the door. She closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. "Having guests is delightful, but seeing them finally leave is often just as wonderful," she declared.

"I don't know if all of this was worth it or not," Harry said tiredly as he moved toward one of his couches and sat down on it. "I mean, I was able to strengthen my acquaintance with the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy, but I'm not sure I accomplished anything else."

Bellatrix walked to the table that had held their dinner. The remains of the meal had disappeared, but a pitcher of wine remained. Harry could not recall ever seeing the house elves serve wine, but he supposed Bellatrix must have ordered it specially. "You accomplished much," Bellatrix countered as she poured herself a goblet of wine. "The students will tell their parents about tonight. They'll be flattered that a professor took personal interest in their child. At the very least, it will give you room to claim acquaintance with them because you singled out their children."

"That's true," Harry admitted thoughtfully.

"You might want to write a few notes about tonight while you can remember everything," Bellatrix said. She placed her goblet on a table next to the couch and walked over to a small desk. In a drawer, she found writing utensils. "They'll come in handy later—at least if you have any forewarning. Everyone loves nothing better than being remembered."

Harry sighed. "You make it sound so mercenary."

Bellatrix returned from the desk and sat down on the couch next to Harry. "That's because it is, Harry."

~!~!~!~!~!

"Bugger!" James Potter cursed. "Bugger!"

"What is it?" Peter asked timidly, almost as if he was going to be in trouble for whatever had gone wrong.

"The ink has gone and disappeared again," James muttered. He set down his quill, found the lid to the ink jar he had been working with, and screwed it on tightly.

Sirius picked the jar up and eyed it suspiciously. "I love the idea of invisible ink, but if it keeps disappearing on us rather than other people, it's no good." He looked in the jar. The ink had become so invisible that by all accounts, there did not appear to even be a liquid let alone black ink in the jar. He began tapping the jar and shaking it alternately. There was no effect.

"This ink is just going to have to learn who the bosses are," James grumbled. He drew his wand and grabbed the jar from Sirius.

"James, no!" Remus barked from the portrait hole.

James, Sirius, and Peter turned and saw Remus entering the common room along with several members of the Charms study group that met weekly.

"There you are," Sirius called. "This ink has vanished again."

Remus was soon at the table and picking up the ink bottle. "I've told you three constantly, you've just got to know the key. The ink is not that complicated." Remus then launched into a rather complicated explanation and demonstration of how to make the ink visible and how to avoid making it invisible, but he had already lost James's attention. Lily Evans had arrived in the common room at the same time Remus had.

"I don't know how you ever get anything done," Remus sighed, returning the bottle of now visible ink to the table James had been working on. "She's as oblivious to you now as she ever has been."

"What's that she's carrying?" James asked to no one in particular.

"Some letter," Sirius answered as he squinted at Lily and her friends who were standing nearby. She was indeed holding a piece of parchment and showing it to her friends. Whatever it was, it had certainly provided something for Lily and her friends to talk about.

"Where?" Peter asked, leaning forward and craning his neck. His elbow brushed the jar of ink off the table. It fell and shattered, spreading ink all over James's books and notes.

"Peter!" Sirius barked.

James and Remus spun and groaned—Remus mourning the loss of the valuable ink and James for his possessions. Several of the other Gryffindors were quietly snickering.

"I'm sorry guys," Peter mumbled, scrambling to do what he could to clean up the mess.

"We can just charm the ink to be invisible, can't we?" Sirius said. "Problem solved."

Remus sat down in a chair. "That's only a temporary fix. You'll have to do some sourgifying."

James picked up his History of Magic textbook. "Scourgify this? I don't think it's worth the effort."

They all laughed raucously, and Sirius picked up another one of James's ruined possessions. It was a piece of parchment. "Hey, looks like you've utterly destroyed that invitation from Ashworth."

There was more raucous laughter, but this time, it was interrupted by a female voice. "Professor Ashworth invited you?"

The Marauders glanced up to find Lily Evans standing next to the table, staring at the ink-soaked invitation.

"Yeah," James admitted. "He invited Sirius, Remus, Peter and me to some dinner he's having later this week."

Lily's face was the picture of pure consternation. "Why would Professor Ashworth invite you?"

"Well, I don't know," James said slowly. Did it mean something? Had Professor Ashworth paid him a compliment?

"That's easy to explain," Sirius said. "I got invited because my cousin Bellatrix is in charge of the invitations."

Lily spun to face Sirius. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

"Well duh," Sirius said, "the invitation was in her handwriting."

"No it wasn't," Lily said. She grabbed the ruined invitation from Sirius and promptly cast a spell to clean it. She gestured to the signature. "That is definitely Professor Ashworth's signature!"

"Yeah, it is," Sirius said, "but in whose writing is the rest of the letter? Even the salutation with the names?"

Lily looked at it carefully and after a few moments said, "Not Professor Ashworth's."

"Exactly," Sirius said triumphantly. "It's Bellatrix's handwriting. I should know; I'm her cousin."

The skin near Lily's ears began to go pale and her green eyes were blazing. Sirius was beginning to regret his telling Lily about the handwriting even though he didn't quite understand what about it had irritated her so severely. After a moment of silence during which Peter quailed and Remus feigned indifference while James and Sirius stared at Lily inquiringly, she finally spoke. "Well? Are you going to the dinner?"

"I don't know," Sirius said, stifling a yawn. "I'm not fond of Bellatrix and as for Ashworth . . . it's not like he's that great of a professor."

"He's a fine professor!" Lily retorted.

James was quick to jump in and mollify Lily, though he wasn't about to turn on Sirius. "He's a decent bloke and all that, don't get us wrong, but he isn't that brilliant with brewing potions."

"Well . . . whatever," Lily mumbled. "I'm going to his dinner, and I think he's a good professor."

"We're going too," James announced.

Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus snickered quietly.

"I'm sure it will be a wonderful experience," James added.

"It will be," Lily said curtly, smart enough to realize that James's willingness to respond to Ashworth's invitation had nothing to do with the professor. She walked away stiffly and rejoined her friends.

The Marauders sat back in their seats, James absently humming to himself.

"I guess we know what was in that letter she was carrying around," Peter observed.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry released his final class of the day five minutes early and rushed to the Great Hall for dinner. After eating his meal quickly, he fetched his winter cloak from his apartments and left the castle. It had been snowing all day. Thus, the path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade had become difficult to traverse. It was dark and the snow was deep. Harry trudged on. Orion's visit had aroused his curiosity about Lestrange's act of arson down in Hogsmeade. What had Orion seen in it that neither Harry nor Bellatrix had observed?

Eventually, he reached the town and its streets that were lit by lamps. He passed the Three Broomsticks and its lights glowing in the cold, winter night. It wasn't bustling with students on a weeknight, but there did seem to be some traffic going in and out. The townspeople of Hogsmeade, Harry supposed, or perhaps some travelers.

From there, it didn't take too long to find the street and small restaurant that Bellatrix had guided him to before the fire. Just across the street was the burned out building in question. Harry scanned the street and neighboring buildings to see if there were any onlookers. Seeing none, he approached the ruins.

The light that the streetlamps provided was sufficient to reveal that very little of the building had survived the devastation—only some of the parts that he and Bellatrix had put bluebell flames on. Harry noted with a little bit of amusement that the staircase they had rushed up still stood amidst the ruins. The wall he had originally experimented the bluebell flames on had fallen, but only because everything else supporting it had been burned to ashes.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything in the ashes that Harry could use. It was a hopeless cause. Harry sighed. Dead end, he thought.

"Hey! What are you doing?" called a voice.

Harry spun toward the voice's origin and found an aged witch looking at him from a porch situated across the street, next to the restaurant. "Just looking," he said, trying to sound confident.

"That's off limits," the woman informed him. "The Ministry is investigating the fire."

"Oh, I didn't know," Harry said, wondering if the woman might know more about the fire or the shop the building had been before the fire. He walked over to the house. He needed a cover story. Quickly, he tried to think one up. "My wife's birthday is coming up," he explained to the woman. I just got off work and was hoping to buy her something from that antiques shop. I guess they're out of business, eh?"

"You've got a gift for stating the obvious," the woman said wryly. "Yeah, Dark wizards burned it down."

"Dark wizards?" Harry exclaimed. "Really?"

"What else could it have been?" the woman said. "It took hours for the Ministry to put it out."

"Yeah, well we all know how competent the Ministry is," Harry noted.

The woman laughed. "I like you, lad."

"Is the owner around anywhere?" Harry asked.

"He's living with his son and their family. About time, too. He was getting pretty senile," the woman said.

"That's too bad about everything," Harry said, his brows furrowed in thought. If the old man was senile as the woman said, would tracking him down be of any use?

"I know of a good antiques shop down London way," the woman offered. "You could find your wife something from there."

"Uh, okay," Harry said, "where is it?"

The woman thought for a second. "It's down Smythe Lane, off of Diagon Alley. It's called Treasured Trifles."

"Treasured Trifles," Harry repeated dutifully. "Thanks."

The woman nodded. "No problem."

There was then an awkward moment while Harry and the woman eyed each other. Harry had hoped she might disappear from her porch so he could take a last look at the burned shop, but she seemed to be waiting for him to leave before she herself returned to her house. Apparently, the incident had planted the seeds of distrust in her.

With an inaudible sigh, Harry drew his wand of pine and Apparated away. He landed in an alley near Diagon Alley. He wasn't actually looking to purchase an antique, but going to a similar shop might give him a clue as to what might have been special about the other shop. It can't hurt to take a quick look, Harry told himself. After all, he was out and about anyway.

Harry walked quickly through the brisk winter air around the corner and into the Leaky Cauldron from whence he made his way into Diagon Alley. The atmosphere was sleepy, but pleasant. Most of the shops were open, but only the most dedicated customers seemed to be shopping. He strolled past Ollivander's. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he really ought to purchase a wand from Ollivander, but he ended up telling himself that he could always come back later and that his need wasn't pressing.

Eventually he was looking into the window of Treasured Trifles. The display was full of various trinkets. Harry was reminded of Professor Dumbledore's collection of magical devices—howbeit, the stuff in Dumbledore's office looked a lot less like rubbish than the stuff in the shop window.

A chime announced Harry's entrance into the shop. The shopkeeper, a bald and rather skinny man stood behind a glass counter. The counter was topped by a very old-fashioned cash register—at least by Muggle standards. The man tilted his head and smiled a proprietary smile in Harry's direction. "Good evening, sir. What are you in the market for?"

"I'm not really sure," Harry replied carefully, trying to think of a good way to find useful information. He did not think that strolling around and looking at the junk on sale would do him very much good. On the other hand, directly asking the man for the information he wanted didn't seem very practical either. "My wife is interested in old things," he said.

"Old things is our business," the man said, a slightly mocking smile on his face. "What kind of old things?"

This slightly stumped Harry. Wasn't an antique an antique? Frantically, Harry cast his mind about for what sort of antiques a young man like Rodolphus Lestrange might find interesting. In the middle of this, he had an epiphany—an epiphany that caused him to want to slap himself for stupidity. Lestrange wasn't the customer—Voldemort was. Harry knew Voldemort well. "Old things," Harry repeated and then continued, "valuable things, mysterious things . . . powerful things."

"I might have just the thing," said the shopkeeper. He opened his glass display case and pulled out a bracelet. He held it up for Harry's inspection. "They say that this belonged to the Borgia family and was passed down from mother to daughter. It has powerful curses on it."

Harry sighed. "I'm not interested in that sort of trash. I'm in the market for the real thing."

Instead of protesting as might be expected, the shopkeeper sighed. "Well Mr. . . ."

"Polkiss," Harry supplied, annoyed that the man was prying for his name.

"Well Mr. Polkiss," the man said, "the real thing isn't very easy to come by."

"Would you care to elaborate for me?" Harry asked.

The man placed the alleged Borgia ring back into the glass case. "That kind of thing almost always belongs to pureblood families. They hoard them. When circumstance forces them to sell, they don't exactly put them up on the auction block—the shame that they have to sell in the first place, and of course, the minor fact that many of those heirlooms are illegal."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So where does one listen for the happenings of this particular market?"

The man shrugged uncomfortably. "You've just got to have connections."

"Do you know of any pieces on the market now? Something that maybe more than one antiques dealer may be aware of?" Harry asked.

The man sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Polkiss. I just don't know you. I'm not prepared to talk about that sort of thing with you. If you listen attentively in the right places, you may hear something useful. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to close up for the night."

"Thanks anyway," Harry muttered, trying to appear cheerful.

Harry left the shop and began to make his way back toward Diagon Alley. He had gone about a hundred meters when a familiar voice called his name.

"Mr. Ashworth."

Harry turned around and discovered Alastor Moody standing in the street behind him, looking at him suspiciously. "Auror Moody," Harry said. "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Ashworth." Moody growled. He moved to join Harry. "Why don't we head down to the Leaky Cauldron for a little pick-me-up?"

Harry shrugged. "All right, I've got plenty of time."

They walked together toward the Leaky Cauldron. Moody didn't say anything until they had been seated and were looking down at their drinks. Harry was surprised to see Moody order a drink. He had been under the impression that Moody drank only from his hip flask. Probably something he picked up during Voldemort's first reign terror, Harry told himself.

"So, Ashworth, I got a fire-call from a lady in Hogsmeade saying that she had caught a young man poking around the ruins of a certain shop that burned down recently. She said that she sent him in the direction of Diagon Alley. I rushed to Diagon Alley and found you where she had told me I would find the young man she had seen."

"What an interesting story," Harry observed.

"Don't toy with me, Ashworth," Moody barked. "It was you! What were you doing?"

Harry weighed his options carefully. Denial would only fan the flames of Moody's suspicion. Admitting too much would be plain trouble. Harry decided he would tell the basic truth—just not all of it. "I've been hearing some rumors. Certain purebloods are agitated about the fire. Not just agitation over your basic case of arson. Something else is bothering them. I was curious, and I thought I'd see if I could ferret out what had gotten them into such a tizzy."

"And what did you find out?" Moody asked. From his tone of voice, it sounded like he was buying Harry's explanation, but his characteristic paranoia was still present.

"Nothing," Harry replied. "The man probably noticed you skulking outside his shop. Wouldn't tell me a thing."

"I don't skulk!" Moody declared.

"Same difference," Harry said.

The two sat in silence, nursing their drinks. Moody finished his drink. "Well Ashworth, I'll give you credit for saving that wizard from the fire in Hogsmeade, and I'll even give you the benefit of the doubt over you sticking your nose into Auror business tonight, but if I catch you skulking around further, there will be a lot more questions."

"Aye, aye, sir," Harry said with a wink. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Cheeky bastard," Moody growled as he stood and left Harry.

Harry sat with his drink for a few more moments. He vaguely considered the possibility of finding some of the more disreputably pubs in Diagon Alley for the purpose of sniffing out potential information about the black market for heirlooms. This idea was dismissed, however. Moody was likely planning to either follow him or to send someone else to tail Harry. Harry left his drink unfinished, made sure the check had been paid, and exited the Leaky Cauldron into the streets of London in search of something entertaining.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Are you lost?" Bellatrix asked.

"No," Harry said. "I know exactly where I'm going." He was pacing in front of a certain wall in the Hogwarts castle.

"So does everyone in the St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward," Bellatrix point out.

A door appeared in the wall where Harry had been pacing. "Here we are," Harry said. "This is the Room of Requirement. It's exactly what we're looking for."

"Right," Bellatrix said. She opened the door and stepped in with Harry following her closely. After a quickly glance she changed her mind. "I guess you are right."

"Told you so," Harry said, closing the door behind them and surveying the form that the room had taken in response to his need. One always had ideas about how the room would appear, but sometimes it accounted for needs and wants that the asker wasn't always conscious of.

The room seemed more impressive than he recalled ever seeing it before. The ceiling was high and elegantly dark colors were painted on the walls that weren't gray stone. Torches lined the walls providing ample light. There were two chairs near the entrance. The rest of the room was a formal dueling arena.

"This looks perfect," Bellatrix said. "Let's get started." She drew her wand and assumed a formal dueling pose.

"We need to establish some ground rules," Harry said. He walked to one of the chairs and sat down.

Bellatrix reluctantly followed him and sat down in the other chair, still holding her wand while her eyes gleamed eagerly. "If we must."

"We must," Harry said, feeling slightly silly. "We can take turns making up rules, if you want."

"All right," Bellatrix agreed. "I'll go first. I think there should be a rule that we don't hold back. If we get our noses broken, that's our own fault."

Harry sighed. She had him cornered there. He had broken her nose the last time, so he couldn't argue that she was just looking for an excuse to hurt him. Bellatrix had pretty much turned the whole purpose for making rules on its head. "Very well, but we aren't to use any spells that can't be quickly reversed or healed, and—"

"My turn," Bellatrix interrupted. "The winner of the duel gets to pick when the next duel is held."

"Fine," Harry muttered. "Now, we're not going to use any killing spells."

"And, we each must teach each other a new spell before the duel starts."

"We have the option of forfeiting the duel at any time for any reason," Harry said.

Bellatrix glared at Harry, "Pansy."

Harry shrugged. "Take it or forget this practice dueling stuff."

"Every fifth duel is hands only," Bellatrix stipulated. "No wands, no weapons."

"You can't expect me to wrestle with you," Harry snapped.

"Seeing as you provided ample evidence in our last encounter that a well placed punch can turn the duel around, I think we'd better," Bellatrix said.

Harry sighed heavily, conceding that argument to her. She was probably right, but he wasn't eager to engage in that sort of thing. Dudley had long ago established that Harry was not talented in that area. "All right, we teach each other a new spell each time, but if one of us doesn't master it, the other doesn't have to come up with a new spell for next duel."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to utter her next rule, but Harry interrupted her. "Forget it. I think we've got enough rules."

"All right, Ashworth," Bellatrix said. "Let's get started. Teach me something I don't know."

"Stunner?"

"I'm an expert."

"Stinging hex?"

"Honestly, Ashworth!"

Harry racked his brain for some sort of spell he could teach her that would be challenging. Finally he found something he thought might take her a long time to master. "I'll teach you the Patronus Charm," Harry announced.

"Can you even do that yourself?" Bellatrix asked.

"Learned it during my third year at Hogwarts," Harry said, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. "The incantation is 'expecto patronum,' and the wand movement is something like this." Harry demonstrated the incantation and wand movement. The familiar stag leapt from his wand and pranced through the room for a moment before disappearing."

"Impressive," Bellatrix said quietly. "How many dementors does that drive away?"

"I drove several dozen dementors away back in third year," Harry said. "I haven't really faced that large of a number since. As for other people, their success varies. It might depend on your happy memory."

"Happy memory?" Bellatrix asked.

"Oh," said Harry. "I forgot. You've got to have a really happy memory in mind while you cast the spell or it doesn't work."

"The hardest part," Bellatrix said.

"Yeah, it is the hardest part," Harry admitted as he recalled his original struggles with the spell.

They stood and Bellatrix paced back and forth, holding her wand limply. Finally she stopped, did the wand movement, and literally shouted the incantation. Nothing happened. Bellatrix stood frozen, her wand still pointing toward the far wall.

"That's about what happened my first time," Harry said, trying to reassure her.

Bellatrix ignored him. Her arms dropped to her side and she began pacing. After several minutes she tried again, shouting even louder. Again, nothing happened. Bellatrix continued for nearly half an hour, attempting the spell repeatedly. Her voice became hoarser with each attempt. Harry wondered if perhaps he should seek out a boggart and let her practice on a fake dementor, but decided against it. He didn't need her knowing what his greatest fear was.

Eventually, she ceased trying and turned to Harry whom she had ignored fastidiously. "I shall have to practice on my own time. Now, I will teach you a spell."

"All right," Harry said. "What spell?"

"I'm thinking," Bellatrix said as she bit her lip furiously. A stand with a thick book on it suddenly appeared beside her. She looked at it with surprise. "Remarkable! This room really is a treasure, Ashworth. Copies of this book are extremely rare." She picked it up and began thumbing through the pages. "This one," she declared, pointing to a page.

Harry took the book from her and examined the page. "A personal projection charm?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix smiled brightly and nodded eagerly. "You can use it to fool people into thinking that you're standing in the room with them while you're actually very far away."

"All right," Harry said. "How about you demonstrate?"

"Well . . . ," Bellatrix said. "I'm not exactly powerful enough to do it, but I'm sure I would if I could."

"That's not fair," Harry said. "If you can't even do the spell, you can't expect to be able to teach me how to do it."

Bellatrix shrugged. "That wasn't part of the rules."

"You're just angry because you can't cast a patronus yet."

"I'm just interested in seeing you achieve great things, Harry."

"Yeah right."

"Are you going to sit here and whine?" Bellatrix asked. "Or are you going to get cracking already?"

Harry sighed and read over the description of the spell, its incantation, and wand movement. Bellatrix had really chosen a difficult one. Harry got the impression from the author's writing that the spell had not been performed by anyone in some time. It had been created in the 1500s, but had flopped because the spell smith had been the only one to successfully cast it. He put the book back where Bellatrix had gotten it and drew his wand. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself standing on the other side of the room. "Ego exertus!" he called.

He felt a strange sensation wash over him briefly, but when he opened his eyes, nothing had happened.

"I guess you'll have to practice on your own time," Bellatrix said innocently.

"Did you see anything happen at all?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I don't think so. Shall we duel?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was suddenly feeling a desire to beat Bellatrix soundly, and not just for the purpose of winning the right to choose when the next practice session was to occur.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Well, it's not any purebloods I've talked to lately," Andrew Foxe said thoughtfully. He and Moody were waiting outside the doors of an ongoing Wizengamot session. Both should have been present inside, but they had been on an emergency call to the south of England. It was now too late to bother interrupting. In only a few moments, the session would be finished.

Moody arched his eyebrows skeptically in response to Foxe's denial. Andrew Foxe was the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. His abilities were well respected, but the less-naïve members of society were conscious of the fact Foxe could be very underhanded in both his political and personal life. "Are you saying that Ashworth was lying?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Foxe said quickly. "I just haven't heard anything. What purebloods does this Ashworth fellow talk to?"

"The Blacks, for one," Moody answered. "Actually, I don't think he talks to anyone else other than the Blacks."

"Orion? I doubt he'd confide in someone like this Ashworth. As for Cygnus, he's hardly the sort that would know anything." Foxe scoffed. "Ashworth is probably blowing smoke."

"Deliberately?" Moody said.

Foxe shrugged. "Not necessarily. Probably just misinterpreting something he saw or heard. Perhaps he's one of those self-important types. You know, exaggerates everything he might happen to learn, acts like its significant."

Moody frowned as the doors to the Wizengamot chamber swung open as wizards and witches began dispersing from the session. "I'm not inclined to believe Ashworth either, but he doesn't strike me as a self-important buffoon."

Foxe rolled his eyes and nodded toward his brother Edward Foxe who had just exited the chamber. "Let's ask Edward there. Can't hurt."

Moody winced as Andrew led him through the now crowded hallway toward Edward Foxe. The eldest Foxe brother was the Head of the Department of Mysteries. Moody wasn't afraid of him per se, but few stood in Edward Foxe's imposing presence comfortably.

"Say, Edward," Andrew said quietly after he, Moody, and Edward had found a somewhat secluded corner, "did you read in the Prophet about that antique shop being burned down in Hogsmeade?"

Edward nodded as he focused his attention on Moody.

"Moody has been hearing rumors that certain purebloods are disturbed about the business. Have you heard anything?"

"What purebloods?" Edward Foxe asked.

"Maybe the Blacks," Andrew said.

Edward frowned. "I haven't heard anything. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I tried," Andrew said to Moody as Edward walked away. "You can keep poking around if you want, but I don't know how useful it will be."

"Whatever," Moody said. "I'll see you around."

Moody left Andrew Foxe and made his way to the Ministry atrium to depart. There, he found Albus Dumbledore waiting for him.

"Did the Foxes have anything interesting to say?" Albus asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Do they ever?" Moody growled.

"Not really," Dumbledore agreed. "However, they have now been forewarned. Alerting them to the possible existence of nefarious schemes accomplishes more than warning Minister Thornton herself would."

"At least the airhead is honest."

"The Foxes are terribly dishonest people," Dumbledore agreed. "They however, have something Cecilia Thornton doesn't—a grip on reality."

"We're not even sure that Ashworth knows what he's talking about," Moody pointed out.

"Let us hope that is the case," Dumbledore said. "We'll continue to watch him and see what happens."

~!~!~!~!

The Marauders made their way to Professor Ashworth's apartments together. They had been sorely tempted to pull a prank on Ashworth, but the manners drilled into them by at least some of their parents had eventually won out. Ashworth had been nice to invite them and he certainly had never been infamously unkind to them. However, in lieu of a prank, they had settled on another strategy that had the potential of causing mayhem.

Upon their arrival, James rapped on Ashworth's door. After a brief moment the door opened to reveal Harry Ashworth. He wore a slightly surprised expression. "Messrs Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew . . . you're forty minutes early."

"Our parents always taught us to be punctual," Sirius announced pompously.

"As if you ever learned anything your parents ever taught you," echoed Bellatrix's waspish voice from within the apartment.

"I love you too," Sirius said loudly.

Harry laughed and opened the door wider, motioning for them to enter. "If your parents taught you to be punctual, I'm sure they also taught you to always offer to assist your host. I'm sure that Bellatrix would appreciate help setting the table."

"They're not touching the table!"

"Maybe the table doesn't need to be set after all," Harry said, closing the door and turning to examine the four with a broad smile on his face.

Lupin returned the smile with an uncomfortable nod and glanced at his companions to see what they thought of Ashworth's oddly warm welcome. He discovered that they were too busy examining the professor's apartments to really notice the professor himself. Most noticeably, they were studying Bellatrix who was just finishing her inspection of the table.

Bellatrix looked over at them with a frown and then over to Harry. "Everything is ready, Ashworth. I'm going back to my dorm to pick some things up. Don't let anyone touch the table."

"All right," Harry said.

With that, she departed and left Harry alone with the Marauders.

"Professor," James said, "why is it that Bellatrix Black spends so much time with you?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in an overly casual voice.

"She's in your office constantly," Lupin pointed out, "and it's obvious that she's the one who's been in charge of organizing this party."

Harry shrugged. "Bellatrix was pretty much the first person from the British magical community I met when I arrived here. She offered to show me around and get me acquainted. I guess we're sort of friends."

"Too bad you had to run into a Black so quickly," Sirius said. "There's tons of better families out there."

"You're a Black," Harry said.

"Yeah, but I'm the black sheep of the family," Sirius declared.

Peter guffawed.

Harry shook his head with a small smile and motioned toward the dinner table. "Let's see where Bellatrix has got us seated. I'm curious to see what she did with our guest list."

"Probably something malicious," Sirius muttered.

"Here I am!" Peter called, pointing to a small paper placard in front of a plate. "She put me next to . . . Severus Snape."

Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "How interesting," he murmured quietly.

"Sirius and I are next to Amos Diggory," James announced. "He's sitting at your right."

"Bellatrix stuck herself on your left," Sirius said to Harry. "That's pretty presumptuous."

"How so?" Harry asked.

Sirius grinned. "That means she thinks she's number two around here."

"She didn't put herself there at the last party," Harry said.

"Maybe it's just random," Peter suggested.

"Could be," Harry said.

"Bad luck, James," Remus announced. "She put Lily really far away from you." Remus was standing near where Peter and Snape were to sit. "I'm down here with her and Frank Longbottom."

The group walked over to where Remus had found Lily's placard. Harry looked at the placard. "Lily Evans," he read. He grinned at James. "Maybe we should make a slight change to the seating arrangements." Deftly, Harry picked up Lily's placard and carried it to where Amos Diggory had been seated. He exchanged the two and put Amos where Lily had formerly been.

James looked as if Harry had given him a million galleons. "Thanks, professor."

"Don't thank me yet," Harry said. "You've still got to endure Bellatrix giving you the evil eye. I'm going to let her think you guys did it."

Sirius laughed loudly, "I love it!"

Harry laughed softly. "Let's sit down. We've still got over half an hour before anyone else shows up. Do any of you play Quidditch?"

~!~!~!~!~!

Lily stopped at a mirror and beamed at her reflection. Her friend Alice walked up behind her. "Are you going to check yourself in every mirror we pass, Lily?"

"I'm so excited," Lily said. "Professors don't hold these sorts of parties often, you know."

"Especially the professor you have a crush on," Alice teased.

Lily blushed. "I don't have crush on Professor Ashworth. It's just that he's so . . ."

"Hot," Alice finished.

"No!" Lily protested. "It's just that the moment I saw him, I knew he was . . ."

"Your soul-mate," Alice snickered.

"Just stop it," Lily said. "The important thing is that we make a good impression. I don't want him to think I'm some sort of cavewoman."

"Oh," Alice said, "is that why we're going to be fifteen minutes early?"

"People hate it when their guests are late," Lily lectured. "By going slightly early, we'll have the chance to visit with Professor Ashworth and perhaps even offer to help him with his last minute preparations."

"You just want to get him alone for ten minutes," Alice said.

"That's unlikely," Lily grumbled. "That . . . scarlet woman Bellatrix has her claws in him! Did I tell you what Sirius said? The invitations were in her handwriting!"

"Lily, you're such a treasure," Alice said. "I'll distract Bellatrix by offering to help her and you can corner Ashworth and start impressing him. 'Hello professor! Did you hear I got an outstanding on my latest Defense essay?'"

"Stop mocking me," Lily said. "We're here." They had indeed arrived at Professor Ashworth's door. Lily reached out and knocked on it very primly. Her grandmother could not have produced a more perfect knock.

To Lily's horror, it was none other than James Potter who answered the door. "Welcome Lily, Alice," he said pompously. "How kind of you to come."

"I'm not late am I?" Lily asked desperately. In her panic at seeing James, the type of boy who would be very late, already there, she had forgotten that he was someone she didn't like very much.

"Not at all," Harry called from somewhere behind the door. "Come in."

Lily and Alice stepped into Professor Ashworth's apartments. It was very difficult for Lily to resist slapping the arrogant smirk off of James's face as he bowed and closed the door. Ashworth and James's friends were seated around a small coffee table.

"I know it's a little bit of faux pas," Harry said to Lily and Alice, "but we've decided to get started on the appetizers." He gestured to a platter with some hors oeuvres. "Help yourself."

Her great plans shattered, Lily could only numbly sit down on a small couch with Alice and help herself to the appetizers. James sat down next to Sirius and grinned at her. She favored him with a small glare that disappeared as soon as Ashworth turned his attention to her.

"I've just talked James and Sirius into considering careers as Aurors once they've retired from professional Quidditch. What sort of careers are you interested in, Lily, Alice?"

"I've actually been planning to be an Auror for a couple of years," Alice said. "I've got an uncle who does that and he enjoys it."

"Really?" Harry said. "Do you know what classes you have to take in order to become an Auror?"

Alice began rattling off the educational requirements for British Aurors while Lily glared sullenly at James Potter. He had ruined her evening. Deliberately! Now, Alice who had teased her for her interest in Professor Ashworth was sitting there chatting with him while she sat liked a dumfounded school girl. She stewed in her thoughts for several minutes until she felt someone jab her.

"Lily? Lily?" came Professor Ashworth's voice.

Lily started as Alice prepared to jab her a third time. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was wondering if you'd decided what you'd like to do once you left Hogwarts," Ashworth asked.

Lily blushed. "Uh, I'm pretty good at potions and charms. I was sort of considering being a mediwitch—like Madame Pomfrey."

"Really?" said Harry. He face seemed to reflect surprise. "I didn't know that."

"Uh, yeah," Lily said. "I think it's a pretty good career. There's lots of demand in the medical field."

"Certainly," Harry agreed.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of several more guests. It seemed that the Hufflepuffs had decided to come en masse. Soon the apartment was filled with Harry's guests who were all chattering with each other and Professor Ashworth eagerly. After Bellatrix arrived, Harry announced that dinner would begin.

Lily and Alice walked over to the table with the rest of the guests and began searching for their seating assignment. When Lily discovered that she was sitting directly on Professor Ashworth's right, she shared a triumphant grin with Alice and shot James an arrogant stare. That ought to set him in his place, she thought. Obviously, she was Ashworth's favorite student. She tried to give Sirius the same arrogant stare, but he was busy snickering at Bellatrix who appeared to be quite annoyed for some reason or another.

A/N: We'll gladly consider anyone's nomination for what Bellatrix's favorite animal is. Saying "a snake" won't help us out very much though.

12. Darkness Reveals Plans Unfolding

A/N: Thank you for all of your reviews and advice on what animal Bella's patronus should be. LS

Chapter 11

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Dismayed, Harry threw his bamboo wand against the wall of the Room of Requirement. It bounced off the marble masonry and clattered to the ground with only a whisper of a sound, indicating something Harry knew he should have been aware of earlier. Compared to his old holly and phoenix feather wand, the bamboo wand was much too light. It even felt that way in his hand. Casting spells with it made him feel like he wasn't using a wand at all. He drew his pine wand, which felt a little better, and drew a deep, calming breath.

"Easy does it," he told himself, trying to center his attention on the spell he was trying to cast. Closing his eyes and counting to ten seemed to help a bit as he imagined himself standing next to the far wall of the room. Willing himself to suddenly be next to the wall, Harry furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to avoid apparating there on pure reflex. Feeling like he had a decently good grip on his mental image, Harry opened his eyes and flicked his wand. "Ego exertus!" he intoned.

A wave of vertigo washed over him, and the room suddenly started spinning violently. Harry clenched his eyes shut, but doing so didn't help the nausea growing in him one bit. He fell, crashing to the floor, just barely managing to prop himself up with one arm until he finally stopped trying to force the spell to work. Dropping the pine wand in exhaustion, Harry rolled over onto his back and stared listlessly at the ceiling for a few long moments until he was reasonably certain he could stand up without his breakfast making a repeat performance.

When he finally did manage to get to his feet, it was only to fall back into a cushy armchair that the room had conveniently placed there for him. With a weary sigh, Harry reached down and picked up his wand before leaning back again. Staring at the piece of wood in his hand, he felt tempted to discard it for firewood because it wasn't good for much else, anyway. Maybe Bellatrix was right, it was time to get a proper wand, no matter how much he didn't want to talk to Ollivander. If he was going to face Voldemort, he wasn't going to do it with a flimsy piece of junk. The wand worked well enough for simple things, like light charms and stunners, but even they didn't come with the ease that Harry remembered from his holly and phoenix feather wand. Incidents had piled up over the last few weeks that had reinforced Bellatrix's comments that he needed a new wand: misfired charms, accidental hexes, spells that had had unexpected results—and not always good ones, either. Minor things had become issues of major concentration for Harry.

And attempting the spell that Bellatrix had challenged him to learn? Not a chance. All of his attempts so far had failed miserably, and in the weeks since their first practice duel, Harry had made the intimate acquaintance of the floor more than once because of it. Most attempts left him dizzy and feeling nauseous, except for the few times when he had gotten stubborn and had kept trying to force the spell to work—as he had done just now. Those cases had left him on his knees with a burning throat that felt as though he was about to cough his lungs out and a headache that several bottles of firewhiskey would be hard-pressed to reproduce. Any sane wizard would've given up on learning the spell by now—or at least would have gotten a new wand before trying again—but Harry had remained stubborn and kept on trying, if only to show up Bellatrix.

Thinking of Bellatrix made Harry check his watch. At this point, he didn't even trust his wand to do a time charm right. When he saw the time, he frowned. She was late for their practice session. Usually, Bellatrix arrived early. It was strange to see her so . . . not quite energetic but eager to test herself against him. For some reason that eluded him, she seemed to enjoy their dueling sessions, and though Harry had to admit it was good to keep his skills sharp, he didn't really derive any enjoyment from their duels. But she's a heck of a lot better than I gave her credit for, he added silently. However, she still hadn't been good enough to beat him . . . yet. As much as he hated to admit it, Bellatrix was by far the better duelist, at least when it came to technique and variety. She knew spells both mundane and arcane and had a sharp intellect that made her a potent adversary in combat, and Harry, mainly because he had never formally concluded his higher education, couldn't match that.

The only reason he had the upper hand on her was the experience he had gained during years of warfare and his unorthodox fighting methods. Wizards were woefully unprepared for someone who fought with their bare hands, or fought dirty, and Harry had a lot of experience fighting dirty. During the latter parts of the war, fighting dirty was often the only way for the Order members to stay alive. Etiquette in combat was a luxury they couldn't afford. As a result, he had defeated her in each of their practice sessions, and had thus been able to exercise the option of spacing the sessions out more than Bellatrix would have liked. He didn't hold any illusions that it would go on for much longer, though. Beating her became progressively harder each time they faced off. Apparently, she was adjusting her tactics to his way of fighting and had simply pulled more spells from the myriad she seemed to know. He suspected that she put in extra time studying in an attempt to find a way to beat him.

When several more minutes passed without Bellatrix showing up, Harry turned his thoughts to the book from which she had obtained the image projection spell. He tried to remember if there was anything specific in the text that he had missed. With a brief flicker of his mind, the book appeared in his hands. Harry opened the book and thumbed through it until he reached the correct page. The spell description was brief and limited itself to a couple of lines about the spell's effects and the required wand movements. Just by glancing at it, Harry could tell that he hadn't missed anything; the section was barely a paragraph, if that. With a heavy sigh, Harry rose from the chair. The book vanished when the room figured out that he wasn't going to need it anymore. He was heading for the door when it opened, admitting Bellatrix.

"I thought you'd forgotten about tonight," Harry said.

"I didn't," the young witch replied curtly, dropping the bundle she was carrying on the floor. "Something came up."

"What's that?"

"Lestrange."

Harry's full attention was focused on Bellatrix in a heartbeat. Harry's intense gaze nearly caused the Black heiress to recoil from him. Whatever it is that he's expecting, he thinks this might be it, she thought to herself. "I figured you might be interested," she continued, trying to act nonchalant.

"What'd you find out?"

"I've received an . . . invitation, of sorts. Along with the Lestrange brothers, Malfoy, and a handful of others. We're going into the Forbidden Forest for a little meeting tonight. It's all very hush-hush." At least it would've been if Rodolphus had ever learned to shut his big mouth, Bellatrix thought with a hidden smirk. As it was, she almost hadn't been invited, but after Lestrange had let it slip, she had managed to worm her way into the group. She could almost see the gears turning in Harry's head. Gotcha! This was definitely what he'd been looking for.

"I see," said Harry.

His poker face was terrible, Bellatrix mused, even as he desperately tried to hide how much he was interested. She decided to humor him and play along. "Do you think this might be what you've been looking for?"

"Yes." Harry abruptly returned from his thoughts, almost reflexively bringing up his occlumency shields. It was too early to let in Bellatrix on what was going to happen and what he had planned. Bellatrix watched with interest as his face drained of all expression, as if an invisible wall had suddenly slammed into place and his features turned unreadable. She noted with interest that it seemed more a reflex action than a conscious decision, as he'd been very easy to read at times, whereas sometimes she had no idea what he was thinking.

"I was afraid you'd say that." Bellatrix shook her head and began pacing. "You haven't been invited. I wasn't even invited until I managed to convince Lucius that it would be in their best interest to extend an invitation to a member of the House of Black."

"Can't I just tag along and pretend I got an invitation?"

"Without arousing suspicion? No." Bellatrix shook her head, raven tresses flying. "But I might be able to bring you as a friend."

"And you think that'll be any less suspicious?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"It'll be less so than you just showing up unannounced," she shot back.

Harry opened his mouth to retort when an idea struck him. "I can polyjuice as you and go."

"No. You will screw up if you do." Bellatrix held up a hand to forestall any comments Harry might have made. "Look, you don't know these people, at least not the way they are now. You don't know me very well, and you're likely to blow your cover if you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Besides, we're partners, so I'm going."

Harry stared at her for a long moment as he considered whether to press the issue. She had a point—he had no idea how she acted around the other potential future Death Eaters, and his acting skills had never been that good, anyway. And she was competent enough with a wand to take care of herself. Not taking her along might just end up in her asking more questions than he had answers for—or was willing to answer at this point. "All right," he finally conceded, "as long as your parents don't find out."

"I'm seventeen," Bellatrix objected. "I'll do whatever I want."

Harry hoped that didn't involve telling her father what she was up to, because of Cygnus or Orion Black found out that he had dragged their daughter into their little investigation against their direct orders, there would be hell to pay. But if she was going to come along, he was going to put his foot down on something.

"As long as you follow my lead. I've got more experience with who we're going to be dealing with than you do," he stipulated. Holding up a hand to stop her retort, he continued. "If this is about what I think it is, then we're going into a potentially very dangerous situation. You don't know who we're dealing with, what he's capable of. You have no idea of the potential long-term consequences one wrong word or move could cause."

"You sound like you're scared." It was clearly a taunt on Bellatrix's part. Whether it was designed to challenge Harry's authority on the matter or to get him to divulge more information, he didn't know. He didn't care, either. Too much was at stake.

"Like I said, you have no idea who we're dealing with."

"And you do?"

Harry remained quiet for a long while. "Yes," he finally said. "And I dearly wish I didn't."

"Who exactly do you think we're dealing with?" Bellatrix didn't like the haunted look that had briefly flashed across his eyes before it vanished again. She just knew there was a story to this, one she would get to the bottom of. She was just wondering whether she would like the way the story ended when she did find out. Something was telling her she wouldn't.

"You'll see." Harry wasn't about to speak Voldemort's name, not yet, anyway. "Now, how are we getting to this meeting?"

Bellatrix couldn't resist getting in one last barb. "I don't know," she replied cheekily, "I'm following you."

Harry glared at her.

~!~!~!~!~!

"This cloak doesn't fit," Harry complained in a muted whisper. They were standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, waiting for the rest of the invited guests to appear. From there, someone would lead them to the actual meeting site, at least according to the instructions Bellatrix had been able to garner from the Lestrange brothers.

"It's the right size, isn't it?" Bellatrix replied, peering over her shoulder at the castle. The hood of her cloak hid her expression in the dim moonlight. She shifted, and Harry could tell she was nervous.

"It's the right size, but there's too much cloth in some places, and not enough in others. And it's short." He tugged at the shoulders of his cloak irritably, trying to alleviate the strain of the material there.

Bellatrix snickered, causing Harry to look up at her sharply. I know I'm going to regret asking this, he thought to himself. "What'd you do this time, Black?"

"Oh, it's Black now, is it?" Bellatrix smirked.

"Where'd you get this cloak? And just answer the question," Harry snapped irritably. He could tell she was enjoying this.

"I waltzed into the boys' dorm rooms and went through their things until I found one that would fit." Harry didn't need to see her face to know that she was just about laughing at him. "It's one of my cloaks, all right?"

"A girl's cloak?" Harry's voice rose dramatically. "You gave me a girl's cloak?" He could only imagine how ridiculous he looked. No wonder it had been tight in the shoulders and only came to his calves.

"Shush! Don't shout!" Bellatrix muttered, indicating at the dark figures that were slowly emerging from the castle, several hundred feet away.

"You could've just had me bring one of mine," Harry complained.

"And have you looking like a bum off the street?" This time, Harry knew she was insulting him. Maybe it was payback for giving her grief about coming along. Whatever it was, she was enjoying it. "I may not know who called this meeting or who or what we're ultimately dealing with, but give me some credit. From what I gather, only purebloods were invited, and only those in Slytherin. Rich kids whose parents frittered away their fortune. Your cloak would stand out like a sore thumb. And for your information, it's a woman's cloak."

Harry bit back a retort as he spied the figures moving closer. "How many were invited total?" He silently counted the approaching figures. Twenty-seven.

"I don't know. The only reason why we had no trouble sneaking out of the castle is because you're a professor. No one questions what they do. Everyone else is going to have to be a lot more careful than we were, but they did tell us to be on time, so I reckon that's all of them."

It only took a few more minutes for them to close in. "Send the signal," Harry whispered.

"And if it's not the right people?"

"It won't matter. They won't even know what it's about and assume it's something else going on."

Bellatrix glared at Harry for a moment, about to retort. Was he really willing to take the risk of some curious soul coming to investigate the signal they were about to send if those weren't the people they were here to meet? With a shrug, she closed her mouth and drew her wand. Seconds later, a small shower of red sparks erupted from its tip, drifting to the ground in front of her. The group coming from the castle halted for a moment, before there was an equally brief shower of red sparks from the person leading the procession. The group changed direction and headed for Harry and Bellatrix's position. As they came closer, Harry was able to make out the three in the lead. He could tell two of them were the Lestrange brothers by their burly gaits. He assumed the third was Lucius Malfoy.

"It's them," Bellatrix confirmed. "I recognize Lestrange's strut. Let me do the talking and stay quiet. Try and act like you don't care about anything."

"I know."

"Then show it!" Bellatrix hissed. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but your acting is terrible. I can tell how much you're interested in this meeting, but if anyone finds out just how interested you are, it could blow this chance."

Then the time for their private conversation was over as the group came within earshot. "Bellatrix," one of the trio in front greeted, confirming by his deep baritone that it was, indeed, Rodolphus Lestrange. "I don't recall telling you to bring anyone else."

Bellatrix tilted her head defiantly. "If you get to bring friends," she gestured towards the group behind him, "then so do I. Besides, who are you to deny an heiress of House Black, hmm?"

Lestrange barked out a laugh. "Heiress of House Black? I don't think so, Bellatrix, at least not for a long time. Your noble house of Black is going down the tubes."

"I don't recall the Lestranges doing any better," she shot back acerbically. "In fact, I don't know how you even managed to worm your way into this, Lestrange, considering that everyone around here except for you is part of one of the Old Families."

Lestrange was about to reply angrily when one of his companions restrained him with a hand on his arm. "Let it go," Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "She's got spunk, I'll give her that. Much more than Narcissa."

"Who's your friend?" the third one asked, revealing that he was the other Lestrange brother.

"You're the one who insisted on all the secrecy," Bellatrix smirked, "so how about you stop announcing to everyone within a quarter-mile who I am and start telling us why we're here?"

Lestrange trembled, and for a moment Harry wondered if he was going to reach out and hit her. Harry felt the inside of his sleeve for his wand, but he needn't have worried. The arrival of another group preempted him from doing anything.

"I think that's all of us," Malfoy announced. "How about we get going?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started into the forest, the rest of the group following him. Harry and Bellatrix waited until they were at the very end of the column and then did likewise. Falling back a bit so that they could talk, Bellatrix leaned over at him.

"You nearly screwed us up," she hissed angrily.

"What're you talking about?"

"You nearly drew your wand!" Admittedly, he'd done so in a rather subtle way, and if she hadn't known that he carried his wand inside the sleeve of his robe, she would never have been able to guess that he was reaching for it, but the fact was that she had been able to tell.

"Reflex," Harry apologized.

Bellatrix eyed him for a long moment. "You better work on that. That must have been an interesting time you came from, if you picked up reflexes and a combat style like that."

"That's one way to put it," Harry replied dryly.

They covered the remaining distance in silence, both of them studying the area around them as they tried to figure out where Malfoy and the Lestranges were leading them. It appeared odd to Harry that the Lestranges seemed to be the ones in the know in all of this, as they hadn't ever struck him as very bright in the future. Malfoy, he could believe, if only because Lucius Malfoy was a scheming, manipulative bastard in the future who, despite his superiority complex and dismissal of muggles and muggle-born wizards, had actually had some semblance of intelligence. Harry suddenly realized that they had passed one particular clearing before.

"They're going in circles," Bellatrix muttered quietly.

"No, he's doubling back. But he's doing it very well, I almost didn't notice." Harry glanced up. "Wherever we're going, they don't want anyone to follow us."

"Or they don't want any of us to be able to get out," Bellatrix suggested. She really didn't like the look that passed through his eyes at that statement. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's too early for this to be a trap. I reckon it's a . . . recruitment drive."

"Then why'd you freak when I said we might not be able to get away? And don't tell me it's nothing, because I saw that look, Ashworth."

Harry mulled over what he was going to tell her for a moment. "Let's just say that you might not like the . . . initiation into this particular group."

Bellatrix looked at him oddly. "Then we better hope there won't be any of that tonight."

It was only a short while later that they arrived at their destination. Harry felt himself pass through the wards surrounding the Hogwarts grounds, which indicated that they had traveled quite a ways. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing. It meant they could apparate away if they needed to get out in a hurry, and that they could defend themselves. It also meant that everyone else was free to throw whatever spells they wished at them, and no one would know. They stopped in a dark clearing, and the occasional peek of moonlight as it shone through the thick cloud cover overhead did little to illuminate the darkness.

The robed figure standing in the center of the clearing, however, was clearly visible to all. The moment Harry saw the figure, he didn't have to feel the prickling of his scar to know that it was Voldemort. The poise with which he held himself could belong to no other, and Harry hastily erected all of his occlumency shields. Part of him had known that he would meet Voldemort tonight, though part had also been hoping that wouldn't be the case. It would be much easier to deal with one of his lieutenants trying to recruit students than the dark lord himself, but then again, Voldemort had never been one to leave his recruitment to others.

Harry fervently hoped that Voldemort either wasn't as well-versed in legilimency as he would be in the future, or that he wasn't going to probe very deep. If he learned that Harry was from the future, and was planning on stopping him . . . For a brief moment, Harry reached for his wand, entertaining the notion of killing Voldemort right now, ending the fight before the dark lord even knew there was an enemy in his ranks. An elbow to his ribs stopped him, as he glanced over at Bellatrix next to him, grateful for once that she had brought him back to reality. There was no way he could hope to face Voldemort with his piece of rubbish wand. Besides, Harry wasn't putting down good odds on him succeeding in taking down Voldemort right now, even with a good wand. Even now, decades before they would first meet, Voldemort had years of experience and dark rituals that gave him abilities Harry couldn't fathom—especially since he was still human. Dumbledore had once speculated that his resurrection had actually weakened Voldemort, his makeshift body unable to channel the same energies that his original one could.

Following everyone else, the group arranged itself into a single row facing the dark figure who was watching them attentively, but silently. Harry made sure that he was at the end of the line, down from the Lestranges and Malfoy, so that if he had to make a break for it, the only thing standing between him and the deep forest were a dozen feet of open ground. Bellatrix positioned herself next to him. When the chatter had quieted and everyone taken their places, Voldemort took a few steps forward, eyeing them carefully. Eventually, he spoke.

"Welcome, scions of our race's noble houses."

Harry was surprised that his voice, while unmistakably Voldemort's, lacked the unearthly quality and the hissed, drawn-out syllables that the future Voldemort spoke with. Then again, the Voldemort he knew had been resurrected, and was more snake and demon than man. In fact, he sounded suspiciously like the memory of Tom Riddle from the diary Harry had encountered during his second year. He sounded . . . human.

When nothing else came after that brief greeting, Harry glanced up to see that Voldemort was approaching Rodolphus Lestrange. Looking straight into the Slytherin student's eyes, Voldemort inclined his head. "Look at me," he spoke, quietly, but with enough authority that everyone stilled immediately. Lestrange cooperated, and looked up from beneath his cloak into Voldemort's eyes. The dark lord held the contact a moment longer, then moved on, apparently satisfied. Lestrange's brother seemed a bit intimidated by the entire thing, but obeyed, as well.

Malfoy, on the other hand, smirked and stared back into Voldemort's eyes proudly, his spine straight and shoulders squared. Voldemort almost seemed to smile at that, and Harry had to wonder if this was where he was going to sort out the grunts from the brains. As the dark lord made his way down the line, Harry fought to contain his growing nervousness. He could tell that Bellatrix had sensed that he was getting agitated, which in turn increased her anxiety. Harry realized too late that he had no idea whether Bellatrix knew occlumency, and if she did, whether she was good enough at it to keep Voldemort at bay. If she wasn't, and he found out that she was up to something and that he was involved . . .

Before he could formulate a plan, an excuse, anything that might divert attention from his and Bellatrix's investigation, Voldemort had come to a halt before the young witch. She, too, looked straight into his eyes, almost defiantly. Her face was expressionless, but her posture was straight, and she had drawn herself up to her full height, looking every inch the aristocrat the Old Families claimed to be. If Voldemort discovered anything, he said nothing, and simply moved on to Harry.

And then Harry found himself staring into a much younger Voldemort's face. The first thing Harry noted was that the snake-like qualities that so distinguished the dark lord's appearance in the future were not present, yet. Whether they were a result of future rituals, or a remnant of his revival, Harry didn't know, but the person staring down at him right now could have been a carbon copy of the elegant, graceful seventh-year student Harry had originally met as Tom Marvolo Riddle, if slightly older. The only thing that was different were the eyes . . . where Tom Riddle's eyes had been blue in his seventh year, now they were a shade of red so dark Harry almost thought them black. Their eyes met, and suddenly, Harry felt a sensation he had nearly forgotten as his scar began to prickle.

Voldemort must have felt something, as well, because the dark lord stared at Harry for far longer than he had at anyone else. Finally, he raised a hand to Harry's forehead and brushed away his hair. Catching a glimpse of the pale white, bony, almost malnourished-looking hand and wrist told Harry that despite the normal appearance of his face, Voldemort had clearly already begun his transformation by ancient rituals. "Interesting," Voldemort muttered as he caught sight of the lightning-bolt shaped scar.

Harry was almost ready to make a break for it, his occlumency shields raised and reinforced in anticipation of the dark lord's probe, but it never came. He held himself still and maintained Voldemort's gaze by sheer force of will, hoping that if he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, Voldemort would merely dismiss the sensation they were both feeling. Eventually, it turned out Harry didn't have to act on his instincts, as Voldemort turned around and walked back towards the center of the clearing. Facing the crowd, he spread his arms dramatically.

"You are all here today because of who you are. You are the heirs to the most powerful wizarding families in Great Britain. Through your veins runs the purest of wizarding blood, descended from the Old Families. Magic is your birthright. This world is your heritage. Your ancestors fought and laboured for a better world, elevating themselves in the eyes of the wizarding world. Once, they ruled this land, theirs by right. Now, the world they fought for, the world they crafted for their children, and children's children, has been corrupted. Slowly but surely, the taint of muggles creeps into our world, diluting our pure blood and heritage. Our culture is being lost to the masses, to those who could never understand, because they were not born with the same powers as you."

Voldemort glanced at each of them in turn. "They seek to strip you of your birthright. They seek to strip you of your titles and wealth, the titles and wealth your ancestors earned, the titles and wealth which are yours by birth. Our leaders seek to make us all equal. They would have you believe that you are just the same as muggleborn and squibs. In truth, you are not. Does the heritage of the Old Families run through their bloodline? No! Do they have any claims to the same riches and titles that you, who are descended from the Old Families, have? No! They do not know our world. Even many of your parents now sit idle while those who deserve nothing, who have earned nothing, who have rights to nothing, take everything. You have seen the streets of our wizarding world. The streets filled with the muggleborn and even those without the gift of magic. Those who would eventually abandon our world for their own. We cannot let this continue, we cannot let the future of the wizarding world rest on those who would abandon it so easily if it was convenient to them!"

Voldemort had begun pacing, his cloak swirling around him. "This world is yours by right. This world is yours to protect. Our leaders seek to deny you the study of the ancient magics, claiming that it would be too dangerous, claiming that it would tear our world asunder. But what they have really done is cripple our means of defending ourselves against all threats, inside and out. We can no longer stand for the desecration of our world, of our rights as the firstborn families of magic. We can no longer stand for this infestation that permeates every part of our society, festering, rotting away at us from the inside until we are so weak that we collapse. If you neglect to stand up now, to stand up for what is yours, to stand up for what you deserve, then it will be too late. And everything that we have, will be gone."

Harry found himself surprisingly captivated by Voldemort. He could clearly hear the passion in the man's voice, which wasn't something he had ever expected. It was no wonder that Voldemort had managed to collect so many followers for his first war. He was a charismatic orator, and if he was already tainted by madness, then it wasn't showing. Considering the crowd they were in, Voldemort knew just which chords to strike.

"You may be wondering who I am," Voldemort resumed after a long silence. "I am the one who has delved into the most ancient of magicks. I represent what we once were. I have dedicated my life to learning the art of magic, every facet of it, every spell, every incantation, even those deemed too dangerous by the Ministry. I would be an outcast, because of my beliefs, because of what I know. And yet, here I stand, knowing what power is in the ancient texts. That power is yours by right. I am the one who will return to you what is yours. I am the one who will make our world strong again. I am the one who will purify our world and restore it to its former glory. I am Lord Voldemort."

The clearing was quiet for a long moment, before the cry rose into the midnight air. "Voldemort!"

It wasn't long before it was being picked up by every student present. Harry joined in as much as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself, but it was hard for him to feel the same intensity. What Voldemort had just said would resonate with many wizards, he realized, and would earn him many sympathizers. Sparing a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, Harry found her following the chant only half-heartedly, as well.

"Thank you," Voldemort offered after basking in the chanting for a few minutes. "You do your world proud," he announced grandly. "By taking up the fight, by standing up to our leaders when they are wrong, you have taken the first step towards the reclamation of our world. In time, you will learn many things, things that will prepare you for the coming struggle, when we finally end our leaders' oppression. You will learn spells that the world has not seen in centuries. You will be shown the magic that your ancestors created, the magic that the Ministry is too afraid to teach you. I will show you. I will teach you. And when the time comes . . . we will take back our world!"

The cheer arose once more, and Voldemort held up his hands to quiet the crowd. "Now, it is time for you all to return. I want you all to separate. Take alternate routes, make sure you are not being followed. You must keep the events of this night secret, for enemies are everywhere. When the time is right, I will contact you again." With a final, satisfied smile, Voldemort gestured grandly, pointing into a seemingly random direction. "The castle is in that general direction."

Harry made sure to move slowly, despite his eagerness to get away from Voldemort. Trying to blend in with the others who were leaving proved difficult, as they split up into groups of two and three each, taking different directions to head towards the castle. He finally found Bellatrix, spotting her as she entered the forest, and hurried to catch up with her. Silence hung between them for a few minutes. It was Bellatrix who finally broke it, her voice wavering just a little. She hid it well, but Harry could tell something was wrong.

"Is he a genuine dark lord?" she asked quietly.

"Why else would he call himself that?" Harry replied noncommittally.

"Maybe he's just trying to fit in? Maybe he's trying to show everyone that he's from a noble house, that we've got rights to titles that no one really gives a damn about anymore?"

Harry wondered about that for a moment. "I didn't know the wizarding houses had lords. Or even titles, for that matter. I didn't even know they were considered noble."

"They used to be," Bellatrix answered, almost sullenly. "Technically, the older houses base a lot of their wealth and influence on the fact that they are aristocrats. The Ministry hasn't recognized them as such in decades, however. But technically, since there are no laws abolishing nobility, they still may claim the title. You know, I never thought about it before, but you—" she stopped abruptly. "Did you hear that?" Bellatrix asked quietly.

"No." Harry glanced around. "Why? Did you hear anything?"

"I thought I heard a twig snap."

"Probably an animal." Harry really hoped he was right. "This forest certainly has enough creatures living in it."

"You act as if it doesn't matter. Some of those animals are dangerous, you know."

Harry shrugged. "In my experience, they don't bother you unless you bother them." Most of the time, he added silently, the incident with the giant spiders coming to mind. He resumed walking, and Bellatrix followed after a few seconds of intent listening.

"So," he continued, "the Ministry doesn't acknowledge the families' nobility anymore?"

"No. They've decided that being one of the Old Families doesn't get you anymore than any other family. Of course, we still have a lot of influence, so a lot of us end up in the Wizengamot, or other important places. The rest, though, is filled with either Ministry appointees or elected delegates."

"I like the elected delegate idea, but in my experience, Ministry appointees are no good."

"You can say that again," Bellatrix muttered. "What Voldemort promised us is to restore the old order, where the only ones in the Wizengamot were representatives of the Old Families. Their right to govern was linked directly to their bloodline. Changes had to be made once there were more and more muggleborns. They wanted to be part of government, and there came a point where there were so many of them . . ."

"That it became necessary to change in order to avoid rebellion," Harry finished.

Bellatrix nodded. "You know, you never answered my question properly. Is he the genuine thing? Is he a real—"

Harry suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth and hushed her. "You hear that?" he whispered hurriedly. Her eyes widened as she nodded. Another twig had snapped, and this time, Harry had heard it. He was certain it wasn't an animal this time. They both scanned the area around them, but it was much too dark to see anything.

"Told you so," Bellatrix whispered. "Something's following us."

"Maybe a centaur or a unicorn," Harry said, trying more to reassure himself more rather than Bellatrix. He had been afraid that he had roused Voldemort's interest, but he had hoped that Voldemort would just dismiss it.

Bellatrix stared at him skeptically. "It could still be dangerous. We're still outside of the wards, we could apparate to London and return tomorrow morning. It's Saturday, no one will notice anything."

Harry glanced around as he heard another twig snap. He really didn't want to remove a student so far from the school for no good reason. Figuring that spending the night away from school with a female student would rouse more questions than he was prepared to answer, Harry shook his head. "No, let's just—"

And then his scar began to sting. With speed born of years of fighting and running, Harry's wand slipped into his hand and with a muttered word and a muted pop, he and Bellatrix vanished from the forest. They reappeared at the edge of the forest, just outside of the Hogwarts wards, close to the Quidditch field.

"Ashworth!" Bellatrix hissed.

"Voldemort is following us." Harry shook his head to stop her from asking. "I'll explain later. Apparate somewhere, run at least fifty yards, apparate again. No less than ten miles between apparitions. Repeat at least five times. Meet me in the tube station closest to No. 12 Grimmauld Place. And get rid of that cloak."

Bellatrix was about to ask if he wanted a glamour with that, but the seriousness in his tone and eyes stopped her cold. He was afraid, she realized, and that scared her. With a curt nod, she drew her wand and disappeared. Once she was gone, Harry let out a brief sigh. Hoping that she would be fine, he apparated again, aiming for the coast of Wales. A second apparation took him to Glasgow where he discarded the cloak he had been wearing. Sprinting away from the point he had appeared, he raced down the hill he'd ended up on, then apparated on the run to Dover. Locales blended and blurred around him as he tried to shake whoever might be following. Lancaster. Oxfordshire. Dublin. Some tiny village at the northern coast of France, close to the English Channel. Finally, he appeared in London.

Searching the area around him, Harry hid in the shadows of a nearby alley, shivering in the cold night since he had tossed the cloak Bellatrix had given him. When no one appeared behind him in five long, agonizing minutes, he continued down the streets, making sure his back was always towards a wall. Figuring that there was no point in freezing, he took a moment to conjure up a trench coat, and walked into the tube station. Bellatrix was already there, likewise wearing a long, muggle overcoat. He noted with interest that she was leaning against a pillar that would allow her to see both entrances to the station, while a mirror overhead one of the entrances allowed her to check the blind spot behind her.

When she spotted him, he thought he saw a flicker of fear cross her features for a moment before she hid it behind her usual mask of cool indifference. "Took you long enough," she merely said by way of greeting.

"Just being careful." Harry walked past her and sat down on a bench.

Bellatrix eyed him for a moment, then headed over and sat next to him. "Are you sure it was Voldemort who followed us, and not one of the other students?"

"Yes."

"How do you know? You told me you'd explain, and I just went off on a wild chase of hide-and-seek because you told me there's a dark lord after us, so you better damn well explain, Ashworth."

Harry fidgeted, unwilling to explain the entire story to her. "Suffice to say that due to certain events that occurred in my time, I can feel his presence to some degree. And no, I won't go into any further detail."

"Fine." Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him suspiciously. "And . . . can he do the same? Can he feel when you're around?"

Harry's silence was all the answer she needed. "Merlin's beard, he can, can't he. That's why he was looking at you for so long!"

"Yes."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to tell him how colossally stupid his presence at the meeting had been, how he could have gotten them both killed, but no words came to her. The only thing she could think of was that there was a dark lord running around, and that he had apparently marked her. Or, at the very least, he had marked Harry, which marked her by association. Finally, she spoke. "Your plan is to sabotage his rise to power?"

"Yes." Harry fully expected a barrage of questions to that answer, but none came. Her silence scared him much more than her questions; as collected as Bellatrix was, she almost was one to never miss an opening to ask about his plans and poke into his story. The fact that she didn't hinted at how shaken up she was.

"Look at me." She turned towards him. "Look at me," she repeated as he shied away from meeting her eyes. Green eyes met violet, and Harry resisted the urge to raise his occlumency shields again. It took Bellatrix a few seconds to formulate the question she wanted to ask. "How would the Bellatrix of the future feel about your plan?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. It wasn't a complete lie. Harry really didn't know how a sane Bellatrix would have reacted to this whole thing. As far as he could tell, something had happened to turn her into the murderous, violent sociopath that she was in the future.

"I think you do," Bellatrix said evenly. "Dammit, Ashworth, you're a lousy liar. When are you going to stop giving me these half-truths and vague hints? We're in this together, and because of you, I've just been chased around the countryside by a dark lord. Like it or not, I'm your damn partner, so you better start trusting me!"

Harry winced. "In most cases, I could've told you easily. But there's circumstances, circumstances affecting you . . . I truly have no idea what you were thinking in the end."

"The end?"

Harry swore under his breath when he realized he'd let slip too much information again. Looking into her accusing violet eyes, he knew that she deserved the truth. The entire truth. Because, in a way, she was right. Because he had dragged her into his plans, Voldemort was now interested in the both of them. He owed her that much for putting her in that kind of danger.

"You . . ." he licked his dry lips and broke eye-contact. "You committed suicide."

"I would never—"

"You did," Harry repeated. "I wouldn't have thought you the kind of person to do it, either, but . . ."

"What kind of person was I, Ashworth? Whose side did I fight on?"

"The winning side."

"Then why? Why would I commit suicide?"

Harry sighed. This wasn't going to be pretty. "Honestly, I don't know for sure." Though I might have a few ideas, he added to himself, but he wasn't going to tell her about what had happened to her future self in Voldemort's dungeon. "You committed suicide . . . because your side was winning."

Bellatrix stared at him disbelievingly. "What?" It didn't escape her notice that he'd called it her side.

"Your side had decided that you were no longer needed." Harry raised his gaze to meet hers. "Remember that day when I appeared in the Black family vault? My hands were covered in blood. Your blood. You stabbed yourself with your hair ornament."

He could see her eyes widen in shock as the blood drained from her face. "If I committed suicide, why was my blood on your hands?"

"You tried to get me to kill you. You handed me that hairpin and told me to stab you with it. I refused, so you took it and did it, yourself." Harry idly wondered whether he would be able to cast a memory charm on her. Some things were better left unknown.

"I don't believe you."

"If we can find a pensieve, I can show you the memory."

Bellatrix reached into her robes and withdrew her copy of the hairpin. "I gave you this."

"Yes."

"And I wanted you to kill me with it."

"Yes."

"You still haven't answered my question. Why would I commit suicide?"

At least she wasn't in denial anymore, Harry thought. "You were fighting for Voldemort," he finally told her. "In the end, I guess he decided that you were no longer cutting it, and he had you . . . decommissioned."

"I assume, then, that that isn't what happened to you?"

"No." Harry sighed, watching as she slumped, her chin propped in her hands. Her face was hidden behind her long tresses, but he could tell she was hurting. "No," he repeated. "I fought against him, and was captured. He was planning on having me executed."

She was silent for a long time, before craning her head to look at him. Harry could see the tears she was fighting to hold back, but her voice only betrayed the slightest hint of a tremor. "It doesn't sound like either side of this conflict ended well for us."

"Not really," Harry admitted. "But at least my side had it a little better. At least we were happy at times. Voldemort isn't very friendly."

"I guess that counts for something," Bellatrix shrugged. "Tell me, Harry, tell me honestly. Was I a bad person? I mean, really bad. Evil. Evil as in actually killing or torturing people."

Harry hesitated, not wanting to tell this young girl what she would become. Because, in the end, that was what she was—a young, impressionable woman who was as of yet untouched by the corruption that would dominate her future in his time. "It doesn't matter. I'm changing the future."

"Dammit, Harry, it matters to me!" Bellatrix exploded with a burst of grief and fury. "It matters to me." As quickly as the anger had come, it was gone, leaving her hunched over and quietly sobbing into her hands.

She deserves to know, he mused. In her position, I'd want to know, too. I'd want to know what I'd become, if I could look my future self in the eye and recognize myself. And she wouldn't. He knew that she wouldn't, because who she was right now, despite all her flaws, despite her arrogance and self-centeredness, she wasn't the same person she was in the future. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he awkwardly tried to comfort her. "Yes," he told her. "Yes, you were evil. I don't know how or why it happened, but you chose to follow Voldemort. And when you did, you changed. You lost yourself. You did things . . . terrible things. But that wasn't you. That wasn't what you're going to become."

"But that was what I could become. It's still what I could become." She glanced up at him. "I don't want to become her."

"You don't have to."

"Good." She pushed herself away and rearranged her hair, occasionally wiping at her eyes. A few moments later, her mask of indifference was back in place. "And you don't need to lay it on so thick. I'm not going to abandon you. But I'm going to insist that you step up your efforts a little. Honestly, Ashworth, you've been kind of pussyfooting around. Whatever my future self was thinking, she didn't send you here to be lazy."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I doubt your future self sent me here on purpose."

"You think I'm too cowardly to stab myself?" Bellatrix said.

When Harry didn't reply, she continued. "Obviously, I wanted you to be holding that when it came in contact with my blood. It is activated by blood, isn't it?"

"You are and were out of your mind," Harry retorted.

Bellatrix rose and glared at him, hands on her hips. "And how well did you know me in the future?"

"Well enough to know the way you fight, inside and out." Harry got an arched eyebrow from her at that. Of course, he amended silently, that's the way her crazy future self fights, not the way she does now.

"I think I'll be the judge of my actions, insane or not, Ashworth." At least, since he'd hinted that she was insane in the future, it gave her a little hope that her fate could be avoided now. "As long as I'm on your side, what does it matter, anyway?"

"Whatever."

"Don't whatever me." Bellatrix leaned down and grabbed him by the lapel. "We're in this together now, Ashworth. And I have no interest in dying anytime soon. So you better damn well get your ass in gear and step up your plans!"

"Fine." Thought Harry didn't show it, he grinned on the inside. This was the Bellatrix he'd come to know during his stay in the past, the proactive, aggressive young woman who went after what she wanted with a vengeance. He stood and folded his arms, smiling back at her blandly.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well what?"

"What are we going to do next?"

Harry shrugged. "I thought your plan was to stick around London until the morning, and then sneak back into the castle. I'll take this bench. You can sleep on the other one over there."

"No wonder you got captured," Bellatrix sighed in exasperation. "Tell me, were you born this incompetent, or do you have to work at it?"

"I'm kidding," Harry calmed her. "Your father and uncle hired me to poke around Hogwarts and try to find out what was going on with all the recent acts of anti-muggle violence. They had a feeling that something might be brewing among the purebloods, and that the students might be involved somehow. Obviously, I knew precisely what was going on, but I needed proof before I could approach them with answers. I reckon I should start approaching them right about now. They wanted to know as soon as I found out something."

"Are you sure that's the best option?" Bellatrix suddenly appeared worried. "I mean, you've got to consider these things carefully. My uncle doesn't involve himself in just anything."

"I reckon that a dark lord rising is something he'll want to get involved in. Don't worry, it's part of my plan. If all goes well, they'll react the way I want them too."

Bellatrix glanced at him skeptically. "Are you sure about that?"

"You'd be surprised. Like you said, how well do you know me?" Harry smirked. "There's things you don't know about me, Black." He smiled in satisfaction when that seemed to reassure her a bit. "Now, is there a way to get your uncle out of bed that won't let everyone else in the house know that something is up?"

"Not a problem," she replied, and snapped her fingers. "Kreacher!"

The house elf appeared. "Mistress Bella," he crooned.

"Rouse my uncle Orion. Tell him only that Ashworth here needs to see him urgently. Tell him where we are. Go," she ordered him. With a quiet pop, the house elf was gone again.

Harry was frantically looking around, trying to see if any muggles had spotted the house elf. "Are you crazy?" he hissed at Bellatrix. "We don't need the Ministry coming down on our heads for the improper use of magic!"

"Give the little bugger some credit," she replied, rolling her eyes. "He knows that muggles aren't supposed to see him."

It didn't take long for quiet footsteps to echo down the deserted tube station. Harry had one hand on his wand, but relaxed somewhat when Orion Black walked into sight. Despite the late hour and the urgency with which he'd been woken, he was dressed impeccably, albeit in wizarding attire. When he spotted his niece, his gaze hardened a bit. "Bella, Mr. Ashworth," he greeted them curtly.

"I found what we've been looking for, with Bellatrix's help," Harry explained, choosing his words carefully. "We're dealing with an up and coming dark lord."

When he remained silent, Bellatrix decided to enter the conversation. "It's definitely a dark lord."

"I don't doubt him," Orion said slowly. He turned away from them and began to pace. "This is not good. Bellatrix, take Mr. Ashworth to your home and get your father out of bed. Wait for me there."

The young witch winced. "I don't think mother would appreciate company, especially not at this hour."

"It is fortunate, then, that she is in London and spending the night at Grimmauld Place," her uncle responded dryly.

"All right then." She walked over to Harry's side, visibly relieved. With a quick glance to ensure that no one was watching them, Bellatrix drew her wand and apparated herself and Harry away. They appeared in front of a Victorian-style mansion that Harry figured must be at least a hundred years old. It certainly didn't look like the more ancient wizarding dwellings. "So, this is where you live," Harry commented. "Looks nice."

"Yeah," she replied, letting go of his arm. "Father loves it, but mother hates it."

"What about you?"

"It's a house," Bellatrix shrugged.

Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he was reminded of his own childhood home. The Dursleys' house on Privet Drive was just that to him, a house. A building, a place of dwelling where he happened to have resided for ten years until he had left for Hogwarts. He held very little actual attachment to the building, unlike the way the Weasleys were attached to the Burrow, or the way Sirius was connected to No. 12 Grimmauld Place.

As they reached the door, Bellatrix fished a key from her pocket and opened the front door. It opened silently, something Harry hadn't expected. Old wooden doors of this size always made a sound, but apparently, there were enchantments in place to make it more pleasing on the ears. She led him inside and told him to take a seat on the couch in the living room while she left for her father's upstairs room.

"Father!" she yelled moments later, from the bottom of the stairs. "Father!" she called again when there was no reply. With a shrug, she headed upstairs. "I'll be right back."

"Right." Harry wondered why he was sitting in complete darkness when the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling suddenly lit with magical fire, casting a warm glow over the room. Now that he could see, he glanced around the living room. The decor was elegant, but simple. Apparently, whoever made the decisions on furniture around here had good taste, though they did appear to have a tendency for dark colors. It wasn't long before Bellatrix returned with her father. Unlike Orion Black, who had appeared immaculately dressed, Cygnus was wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe and looked rather sleepy.

Upon seeing Harry, Bellatrix's father smiled. "Mr. Ashworth, how are you?"

Harry stood and offered his hand. "As well as can be expected. We're sorry to bother you at this hour, but it's a matter of urgency."

Cygnus waved the apology off. "If my brother thinks it's important, then I don't mind at all. Besides, I don't often get to see my daughter." He smiled at Bellatrix fondly, causing her to blush as she sat down on the couch Harry had just vacated. Before either of them could comment further, a knock on the door drew their attention.

"Orion, no doubt," Cygnus said, covering up a yawn and leaving to open the door. When he returned, both Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy were following him inside. The elder Black's demeanor was rather dark and brooding, which was a stark contrast to Malfoy's relaxed, almost sleepy state. Once settled, he turned towards his host. "I don't suppose you have a bottle of firewhiskey around?"

Cygnus chuckled. "Of course." Reaching over, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a tray holding a decanter of the alcohol along with several glasses. He filled three of them, handing two to Orion and Malfoy, before turning to Harry. "How about you, Mr. Ashworth?"

"No, but thanks," Harry said.

"Oh, very well, then." Cygnus took his own glass and sat down.

Once everyone was settled, Orion spoke. "Mr. Ashworth, have you told my brother any of what you told me?"

"No," Harry replied. "I figured we might as well wait for you, so I'll only have to repeat it once."

"Very well," the elder Black conceded. "Gentlemen," he addressed Romulus and his brother. "As you recall, Mr. Ashworth agreed to inform us of any suspicious activity that might be related to the recent string of violence, perpetrated by our youth." He shot a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, but judged from her reaction that she had apparently figured out that much already—or that Ashworth had already told her.

"Yes, I assume we're here because he's had some success," Malfoy commented.

"Of a sort, though the news is not good, I'm afraid," Orion replied. "We've got a dark lord making a bid for power."

Malfoy paled visibly.

"What?" Cygnus nearly choked on his firewhiskey. "Why have you involved my daughter in this?"

"Perhaps now would be a good time for the full story, Mr. Ashworth," Orion noted.

Before Harry could speak up and explain, however, Bellatrix beat him to it. "I chose to involve myself," she announced. "He couldn't have found out without my help."

"Bella—" her father began, but she cut him off.

"Father, he was trying to recruit me," she told him acidly. "Whether you like it or not, I'm already involved, and in his defense," she glanced at Harry, "it wasn't Ashworth's fault. I came to him after I had been invited."

"Invited to what, exactly?" Orion asked, forestalling any further question Cygnus might have asked.

Harry decided that it was time to take over the explanation. "As per your request, I have been keeping my ears to the ground about certain . . . recent events. I did hear some rumors about students, specifically, pureblood students, who were apparently being invited into some form of club. I decided that it might be useful to get to know several of them better, and invited them to dinner events in order to do so."

"Continue." Orion nodded in understanding.

"Bellatrix here figured out that I was looking into something very specific. She came to me and informed me that she had received an invitation to a meeting—a rather exclusive meeting—between pureblood wizarding heirs, in the Forbidden Forest. Tonight." Harry glanced at her. If she was surprised that he was lying for her, she didn't show it.

"And this . . . meeting, what exactly happened while you were there?" the head of the Malfoy family asked.

"We were introduced to someone who calls himself Lord Voldemort. He has been studying old, dark magic, and he made a pretty good recruitment pitch to everyone present. His plan is to rid the world of muggleborns and squibs, and restore pureblood supremacy over the wizarding world," Harry explained. He purposefully omitted the part where Voldemort had followed them after their departure. Seeing the skeptical look on Cygnus's face, he added, "I know for sure that he is a very powerful legilimens."

Bellatrix's eyes snapped to him instantly. "What?" she asked loudly.

"I could feel him probing me. I had my shields up, so I don't think he suspected anything, but the fact alone that he claims to know dark magics . . ."

Romulus nodded in concern. "It appears that we really might have a dark lord on our hands. We've barely recovered from the war with Grindelwald . . ." His gaze went to Harry. "And you are absolutely sure that he did not penetrate your shields?"

"Yes."

Cyngus looked worried. "If he's really as powerful a legilimens as you say, then isn't it possible that he did, but you are unaware of it?"

Harry shook his head. "There was no reason for him to probe deeper. I made sure my intentions were well-disguised."

Orion nodded sagely. "We need to decide what to do next, gentlemen."

"I suggest we notify Minister Thornton, herself," Cygnus offered.

"Yes, let's tell Minister Thornton, she'll make short work of this dark lord," Malfoy laughed weakly.

Before Cygnus could voice his irritation at the other man's tone, Orion interrupted him. "While notifying Minister Thornton would have certain advantages, I do not believe she'll be a valuable ally in this."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Minister Thornton is losing her power base. Support for her has faltered, is still faltering. The last thing she needs is a crisis on top of all her political concerns. I doubt that at this point in her career she has the strength to stand up to a dark lord," Orion explained. "No, what we need now is a strong leadership, not a career politician. We need a leader who can unite the country, unite the wizarding world in order to combat this new threat. As much good as Minister Thornton has done, she is not the right person for this."

"What about Dumbledore?" Bellatrix asked.

Orion sighed heavily. "Dumbledore certainly has the power to stand up to a dark lord, but he's getting along in the years, isn't he? There's also the problem that, whoever we're going to bring in to lead, we'll have to stand behind them. Once you do, you're stuck. While I certainly admire Dumbledore's abilities, I do not think he would make for a very good leader. No, it would be best if our society could unite and combat this dark lord in a broader and more organized way. Dumbledore would be a vital asset, but I would prefer he not be the leader of the fight."

Cygnus frowned. "What about the Foxes?" he suggested. "Surely they would . . ."

Romulus shook his head. "Andrew would rather retreat to France than actually pit himself against a real, live dark lord. I can't blame him—he's always been more bark than bite. Edward might actually have the ability to fight a dark lord, but how do we know he isn't the dark lord, himself?"

Harry was about to interrupt and tell him that Edward Foxe was not the dark lord they were after, but decided to let the man continue.

"Also," Malfoy added, "he might actually believe that having a dark lord roam around free would benefit him. The Ministry always grants the Unspeakables more powers in emergency situation. He might decide that it would serve his interests to leave him be. We can't really trust the Foxes."

Harry's head spun. He had never really considered not following Dumbledore's lead, though he could see the truth in their words. Things would have gone much differently if Fudge had grown a spine and publicly led the fight against Voldemort in his time. It would have deprived the dark lord of many of his followers, and a strong leadership uniting the country would have limited the damage Voldemort's campaign of terror had done. The proverb "united we stand, divided we fall," came unbidden to his mind.

"So," Bellatrix asked after a long silence, "what are we going to do about this Lord Vol—"

Orion held up his hand and stopped her abruptly. "Do not speak his name."

Harry frowned, wondering why on Earth everyone was already afraid of speaking his name, despite the fact that Voldemort hadn't done anything yet. "Is there a reason we should fear speaking his name?" Harry asked.

"It is motivated by wisdom and experience, not fear," Orion explained. "The dark has its way of detecting unwanted attention. If we're going to talk about this person, we need a way to refer to him."

"Saying the dark lord in every other sentence is going to get ridiculous pretty fast," Bellatrix noted.

"I agree, but unless you have a better alternative . . ." Orion shrugged.

An idea came to Harry's mind that had him grinning mischievously. "Why not call him by a common name," he suggested. "How about Tom?"

Romulus smirked. "I like your style, Ashworth. Not only will it disguise our conversations about him, it'll also be a signal to the people that he's a mortal just like them, that he can be killed. I personally would've chosen Bob, but Tom works just as well."

If only people in my time had thought that way, Harry mused idly. He briefly wondered what had happened to these three people in his time. Judging from the way they were acting now, they would not have taken Voldemort's rise lying down, whether he was there or not.

"Tom it is," Orion said slowly. He glanced at both his brother and the elder Malfoy. While Romulus appeared a little more at ease with the situation, Cygnus was looking decidedly unhappy. Apparently deciding that they needed some time to ponder the situation, Orion rose, and looked directly at Harry. "I think it would be best if we all took some time to carefully consider our next actions. We shall meet again soon to discuss this further."

"Right," Harry agreed. "You know where to find me."

"Indeed. Please see to it that my niece returns to Hogwarts safely. It would be best if you avoided any unwanted attention."

"Of course." Harry stood and offered his hand to Bellatrix. She took it and rose as well.

"I'm going to get a few things while I'm here," she said.

"Go ahead, Bella. We've got a few things left to discuss with Mr. Ashworth," Orion waved her off. Once she had left for upstairs, he leveled his eyes at Harry. "Mr. Ashworth . . . while I agree that involving Bella likely could not be avoided, I will not tolerate you placing her in unnecessary danger. You have a new added assignment from now on. You will keep her safe, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied on reflex.

"Good. Then I bid you a good night. Bella's room is up the stairs, second one on the left." With that, Orion stood and left the room, Romulus following him. Cygnus remained a while longer, before accompanying Harry up the stairs. Before turning down the hallway towards his own bedroom, he stopped Harry.

"Take good care of my daughter, Ashworth."

"I will."

"Good." He turned around and entered his bedroom, leaving Harry staring after him.

The door next to him opened to reveal Bellatrix. She signaled him to step in. "There you are, Ashworth!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I thought you'd gotten lost."

"No, just had to talk a few things over with your uncle," Harry replied evenly, staring at the open trunk that was brimming with . . . stuff. He watched as Bellatrix went to her closet and retrieved a delicate-looking pair of dragonhide gloves which she tossed into the trunk. "Didn't you pack everything you need when you left for school?"

Bellatrix kept rummaging around her closet. "I didn't really expect the extent of our extra-curricular activities," she shot back, poking her head out. "Can you grab that trunk from up there?"

Harry followed her pointing finger to a large trunk that was sitting on top of an armoire across the room. He pinched his nose in exasperation and levitated it down.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry stared down at his empty breakfast plate. "When does this shop you need to visit open again?" he asked Bellatrix. They were sitting at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, having just finished a somewhat mediocre breakfast. Harry wasn't all that eager to get underway so early, having spent the night sleeping on a floor. All he wanted right now was to crawl back into bed. Bellatrix, on the other hand, appeared well-rested, which was no wonder considering the fact that he'd let her have the bed.

"Not much longer," she told him. "Actually, I reckon if we leave now, it'll be open by the time we get there."

"Do we really have to?" Harry sighed heavily. His head lolled to the side, and he had to jerk himself upright in order to stay awake.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "How'd you ever get anything done, Ashworth? No wonder you ended up

on the losing side; no one's ever won a war by sleeping the day away."

"For your information," Harry grumbled under his breath, "you snore really loud."

Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him. "I do not snore."

"Do too."

"Do not!"

Harry abruptly closed his mouth, suddenly feeling too tired to get into their usual verbal sparring. "And you haven't told me yet why we're going to this mystery place and why you can't just tell me what it is. It's not down Knockturn Alley, is it?"

"Calm down, Ashworth. It's nothing illegal. For your information, the place is in one of the more

reputable locations in Diagon Alley. And you'll see when we get there. Now come on."

With a muted complaint, Harry rose and followed her out of the pub into Diagon Alley. They idly chatted about random things as they passed the variety of stores that populated the shopping center. Bellatrix seemed surprised that dungbombs would remain a prankster staple in the future. In turn, she was disappointed when he didn't recognize her favorite potion and tincture shop. As they passed Madam Malkin's and Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry's suspicion began to grow.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" he asked in a tone that made it clear that he

could very likely guess their destination.

"We're going to pay Mr. Ollivander a visit," she replied evenly.

Harry stopped in his tracks. "I didn't realize you were in need of a new wand," he told her quietly, knowing full well that she wasn't going to take the bait.

"I'm not. However, you are going to be getting a new wand today."

"And you just decided this . . . why?"

Bellatrix glared at him, stemming her fists into her hips. "Listen, Ashworth. Last night I couldn't

stop thinking about how we were facing a dark lord, and all you had was a piece of rubbish for a wand." Her voice rose. "I mean, did you even think what could've happened as you were apparating yourself around the countryside with that thing? You could've splinched yourself, or apparated into a wall, or out into the sea—"

"I get the picture," Harry winced. "To be honest, the same thought had crossed my mind."

"Then why are you still carrying that damn thing around with you?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't. The excuse that he was afraid of what Ollivander might find out no longer cut it, not in light of the threat they were facing. With Voldemort looming over their heads, going into the proverbial serpent's den with only a junk wand was pure foolishness, something for which Harry almost wanted to slap himself, now that he thought about it.

"Look, Ashworth, I don't know why you don't want to go to Ollivander's. I reckon you probably think you've got a good reason," Bellatrix explained a little more calmly. "Maybe you're even afraid that he'll know something is up, Merlin knows the man is almost freakish sometimes, with the way he can just see right through people. But if you're going to go into danger, then I'm going to put my foot down and make sure you can defend yourself. Especially if I'm coming along. I'm planning on living to a hundred, at least, got that, Ashworth?"

"Sure." There wasn't really much else he could say. It appeared that he would be getting a new wand today. Of course, that still presented him with the problem of the brother wands that he'd had in his original time. Maybe he would get lucky, and Fawkes hadn't donated the second feather and his wand hadn't been made yet. Or maybe he would get a different wand this time around. Getting a different wand would certainly make it easier to fight Voldemort, Harry thought absently as they entered the shop.

The bell chimed, and Ollivander appeared almost instantly from the back room. "Bellatrix Black!" he declared jovially. "Cherry, twelve inches, dragon heartstring!"

"That's me," Bellatrix smiled, pleased at being remembered.

"And I don't believe we've met before, Mr. . . . "

"Ashworth," Bellatrix supplied helpfully. "Harry Ashworth is his name."

"Thanks, Bellatrix, I can speak for myself," Harry replied dryly.

"I know, you were doing such a good job of it."

"Ashworth, hmm?" Ollivander looked at Harry. The man appeared exactly as he had in Harry's time, and his timeless silvery eyes still made Harry feel as if Ollivander could tell everything about him by a mere glance. "It's been a long while since I've sold a wand to an Ashworth. They reside in Australia these days, if I recall?"

"Right," Bellatrix nodded. "He just got here, but apparently, he's been having trouble finding a decent wand. I was hoping that you might be able to help him out with that."

"Naturally." Ollivander peered at Harry over the rims of his silver-edged spectacles. "What kind of wand are you using now, Mr. Ashworth?"

Harry's hesitation earned him an elbow to the ribs from his companion. Reluctantly, he withdrew his wands from his sleeve. "Err . . . I've been using these ever since my old wand . . . backfired."

"Backfired?" Ollivander's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, it kind of blew up in my hands."

"My word, I would think that whoever matched you with your old wand must have done some shoddy work, indeed. These are your replacements, then?" Ollivander took the two twigs from him.

"Right . . .temporarily, anyway. I just haven't found the time until now to go look for a better one," Harry said.

Bellatrix sighed dramatically. "He's been making do with these pieces of junk for a few weeks now. Can you believe it? He's actually teaching a class with these!"

The wandmaker hummed to himself as he turned them over in his hand. "Those are not wands," he concluded with a wry smile. "I cannot even begin to guess what was used as a core for these, but my guess is that they use a cheap catalyst instead of a real core. The wood is certainly too light to hold up to the strains placed upon them by a proper magical focus core." He tapped one with his measuring tape, causing it to break apart. "Ah, there we go. Yes, I've seen this construction before. It's a cheap mass-production model that seems rather popular in the East."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay," he said.

Ollivander looked up, as if just remembering that he had customers. "Oh, my apologies. Shall we get started?" At Harry's nod, the wandmaker released his measuring tape, leaving it to flit around Harry much the same as it had the first time he had come to this store. While the measuring tape got busy, the man himself vanished into the back room, searching through the shelves.

It was a much shorter wait this time around until Ollivander returned with a handful of boxes. Once again, Harry touched one wand after the next; this time, though, he had had more experience with foreign wands, and he could feel the subtle differences between them. It didn't take long for him to reach one that felt right. The red and gold sparks that erupted from its tip confirmed his guess.

Harry spared a quick glance for the wand and let out a sigh of relief as he noted that it wasn't his holly wand. Maybe there was a way he could fight Voldemort, after all. The feeling of warmth that spread in him relaxed his earlier tension. Maybe I should've gone here earlier, after all, he mused quietly.

"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed, his enthusiasm apparently undaunted by having helped wizards and witches find their matching wand half a million times. "A perfect match! Yew—thirteen and a half inches with a phoenix feather core."

Harry's blood ran cold at the declaration. He had not recognized the wand by sight, but he knew its description well enough. Harry looked down at the wand and then up at the wandmaker desperately. "This must be some sort of mistake . . ."

A/N: Happily the plot is moving along. I'm going to ask advice again. Plotwise, how do you feel about Lily and the Marauders? Should they get more screen time? If so, what kind of things do you want to see and what kind of things should we just gloss over?

13. Playing Politics

A/N: Many thanks for each of your reviews.

Chapter 12

By

Claihm Solais & Lord Silvere

"I tell you, there's something wonky going on with Ashworth," James complained. "And I'm going to get to the bottom of that wonk!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, James, he's a teacher for crying out loud. Just because Evans has the hots for him doesn't make him a dark wizard."

"He was sneaking around last night!"

"And you can prove this how?" Sirius grinned. "'Cause you were sitting right next to me on your bed."

James held up a piece of parchment. "This."

Snatching the piece of paper from his friend's hands, Sirius turned it over. "It's blank," he deadpanned.

"Well, yeah!" James grabbed it back and then tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned carefully, and Sirius watched in fascination as lines began to draw themselves on the previously blank parchment.

"Whoa, cool. Hey, I recognize this. This is our potions classroom down in the dungeons! And the dorms!"

James nodded. "Remember when I told you I was going to start working on a map of the castle?"

"This is it?" Sirius grinned widely. "Dang, that's awesome. But how's that help you figure out where Ashworth's been sneaking around?"

James smirked and then turned the parchment over. Dots began appearing on the map, labeled with names. "It tracks anyone within Hogwarts! And last night while I was working on it, I saw Ashworth sneak out of the castle, and he took your cousin with him!"

Sirius arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Bella, I can see sneaking out, but not without good reason. And to be honest, Ashworth doesn't strike me as the type to sneak out with a student. He doesn't have the spine for it."

"But the map really showed it!"

Sirius looked the map over more carefully. "Hmm . . . and this map's completely accurate, you say?"

"Of course."

"Then why's the girl's bathroom inside the Great Hall on your map?"

James stared. "What?"

"Here, look." Sirius folded the map over to the appropriate section. "See?" He flipped it over again. "And apparently, I'm not sitting next to you; Julie Vance is."

"Give me that!" James snagged the paper back from his friend. "Fine," he grumbled, "so it needs a little work. But I swear Ashworth's up to something, and he's dragging your cousin into it!"

Sirius laughed. "I would worry more about her dragging him into something, if I were you." He stood. "Come on, let's see if we can find Remmy and drag him away from his transfiguration homework. You'll need all the help you can get with that map of yours. It'll get your mind off your conspiracy theories." He winked at James. "And who knows, we might even run into Evans in the library."

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

If there was one thing Orion Black hated more than the incessant bickering of aristocrats who argued over the proper way to govern the wizarding world, it was the incessant bickering of the politicians that had taken their place. While Romulus Malfoy had used his considerable clout with the older pureblood families to weed out the trash before issuing any invitations, but the people that sat arrayed around the table were, if not openly hostile, at least eyeing each other with a considerable amount of distrust and suspicion. They were feuding families, families who held grudges, who were on opposite ends of the political spectrum, families who believed themselves superior to others. But they all had one thing in common: none of them wanted a repeat of the disaster that was Grindelwald's rise to power.

As the Black family patriarch glanced around the table, he noted with interest that some of the wizarding world's most prominent families were present while others, equally prominent, were clearly absent. He had to wonder if that was because they had shown no interest in Malfoy's invitation, or if that meant that they were in league with this new rising dark lord. He carefully hid a smile at the glares being exchanged by Richard Potter and Emily Bones. The two had never been able to stand being under the same roof ever since young Miss Bones had turned down the Potter patriarch's offer of courtship. Emily Bones was relatively young for someone of her position, having inherited the position of head of house after her father had become a victim of character assassination and taken his own life. It had only spurred her hatred for politicians, and Richard Potter was a career politician.

Potter himself was someone who Orion felt was rather distasteful to be around. The Potters were an ancient family, easily equally as old as the Blacks, and claimed to be descended directly from Godric Gryffindor. Not one of them could prove it, but that wasn't something that stopped Richard Potter from flaunting it. The Potter fortune was also one of the most intact, this being largely due to the expert care of his ancestors, something Orion could respect. In fact, he had been very good friends with Richard Potter's father, the former Potter patriarch, until his death during the Grindelwald campaign. Unlike his father, though, Richard Potter lived loud, fast, and frittered his family fortune away on women and unnecessary displays of wealth. What he was doing here, Orion didn't know, but at least that meant that what was left of the Potters' considerable fortune would likely remain out of the dark lord's reach.

Also arrayed around the table were Carl Abbott, Vincent McNair, and Davian Prewitt, all of whom held prestigious seats in the Wizengamot. A few of the minor families were also present, mostly politicians who sat on one of the councils or sub-committees of the wizarding government. In the grand scheme of things, if a dark lord wanted to take control, they were inconsequential, but if they wanted to rally the wizarding world against Voldemort, their support would prove invaluable. All in all, there were around a dozen people, enough to fill the dining hall at Orion's home. Orion glanced at Romulus; the Malfoy patriarch was sitting to his right and raised his hand to his mouth.

The sharp whistle pierced the din of heated conversation easily, and everyone quieted. All eyes were turned towards Orion. The Black family head cleared his throat and stood from his chair at the head of the table. "Ladies, Gentlemen," he began gravelly, "I am pleased that you have decided to accept our invitation."

"What's this about, Orion?" Davian Prewitt asked. The Prewitt patriarch was almost as old as Orion, himself, and the two had a long-established mutual respect for each other that stemmed from their shared dislike for the way their world was being run.

"We have asked you to meet here today in order to discuss a matter of grave urgency with you," Orion continued. "I have come to ask for your support for a vote of no confidence against Minister Thornton."

"What?" Carl Abbot shouted. "I hope you have good reason for an announcement like that, Black, because that's sounding suspiciously like treason!"

"I do, indeed, Master Abbot." Orion glanced at Romulus to his side. "We have reason to believe that Minister Thornton is no longer fit to govern."

"That's a serious accusation you're making, Orion," Prewitt commented. "What exactly are you basing this on?"

"I have recently become aware of evidence that Minister Thornton may be involved in corruption and efforts to undermine the government," the Black family head replied coolly.

"That's preposterous; why would Thornton do such a thing?" McNair said, inserting himself into the conversation. The man was large and muscular, someone who didn't exactly look like a politician. In the present crowd, he was one of Thornton's staunchest supporters, having campaigned with her for her last two terms.

Romulus took that as his cue. "We have uncovered evidence that Minister Thornton has been involved in tax evasion and has used the state treasury to unlawfully enrich herself. We also have evidence linking her to money laundering activities."

"I ask you again," McNair glared at Romulus, "why would she do such a thing? I have known her for fifteen years, and she has always put the welfare of the state first."

"Greed is a powerful motivator, Vincent," Orion replied evenly, ignoring the hostility in McNair's tone. "Even the purest of souls can be corrupted when enough money is in play. What matters is that evidence has come into our hands that implicates Minister Thornton in several illegal activities. We now have to decide what to do."

"I would be interested in hearing exactly how this evidence made its way into your hands, and who you got it from," Potter added. "Especially since I haven't heard anything of the sort, and I work with the treasurer."

"Maybe it's because you're helping her," young Emily Bones told him acerbically.

"Oh please, I don't need to take money from the state," Potter replied arrogantly.

Orion held up his hands, forestalling the Bones matriarch's angry response. "We have copies of the documents that we were given right here. Expense reports from Minister Thornton's travels, copies of her personal accountant's notes, and communications between Minister Thornton and her personal accountant regarding several of these expenses. We also have the book for some of the businesses Minister Thornton was using to launder the money."

"How much exactly are we talking about here?" Prewitt asked apprehensively.

Romulus rifled through the papers, before handing them over. Prewitt's eyes widened in shock. "Seven million galleons? How did she ever move that kind of money without anyone noticing?"

"The businesses she was using as a front had a lot of small denomination cash traffic," Romulus answered. "As a result, she managed to get a lot of it in circulation, effectively removing any chance that we could trace it after the fact. This is merely a tally of all the inconsistencies between her accountant's personal records and the actual expense reports submitted to the treasury."

"And we're supposed to just believe you?" McNair asked.

"Not us," Romulus said, "the evidence." He handed the man the stack of papers.

"Who did you get this from?" McNair asked, paling visibly after glancing through the pages.

"A source that would like to remain anonymous, for now," Orion told him. "A sensible precaution, as there may be those seeking retribution for exposing these kinds of activities, if our informant's identity became known."

"Understandable," Prewitt agreed.

"Let's say we take this evidence to be true," Abbot said, "then why did you ask just us? You could have brought a formal petition to the Wizengamot, and have requested a hearing on the matter. Why do this off the record?"

Orion and Romulus shared a glance. They weren't quite ready to reveal the news of a new dark lord rising to the others just yet. "We have no idea who else may be involved. So far it appears that it is just Minister Thornton and her personal accountant. However, she has many friends and allies in the courts, and the Wizengamot. In order to bring this matter to a swift closure, we felt it best to bring an immediate vote of no confidence before the Wizengamot, followed by a formal investigation, instead of the other way around," Orion replied.

"I see . . ." Emily Bones said.

"So, what do you propose, Orion?" Abbot asked quietly as the papers made to round and found themselves in his hands. "If we bring a vote of no confidence before the Wizengamot, you need to have a successor lined up. We're in the middle of the term."

"Obviously, it would be best to not hand control of the government to anyone currently involved in the Thornton administration," Orion explained with a pointed look at Potter. "However, we have as of yet not decided who our nominee will be. This matter just recently came to our attention, and part of the reason why we asked you here was to ask your opinion on that matter, in addition to asking for your support on the vote."

"I need to think on this," McNair said.

"Of course," Orion acknowledged. "I think it would be best if you all did. This is a lot to take in."

"Can I take a copy of the papers? I would like to look at them myself."

"Of course. I will have a copy made for each of you."

One by one, the guests filed out of the room until only Davian Prewitt was left. "I don't know if this has anything to do with what you've just told us, Orion, but I heard a few things about that Ashworth fellow you've been dealing with lately. I heard that he's of particular interest to one of the Aurors. Moody is his name, I think. Alastor Moody."

"I know," Orion replied quietly.

"You also realize that I know Jerome Ashworth? He lives near Brisbane these days, but he's got access to the family register. Oddly enough, when I asked him about it, he told me that there was no one named Harry Ashworth on the family register. In fact, no one his age exists in the family."

"You're saying Ashworth is a fake name?"

Prewitt shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's using a glamour charm to make himself appear younger. Maybe he doesn't want to be found. Whatever the case, watch your back around him, Orion."

"I will. Thank you for your concern, Davian."

With a tired sigh, the Black patriarch watched his friend walk out the door. The clink of glassware announced Romulus's return with a carafe of firewhiskey and two snifters. "Well," he began, "it went better than I thought it would."

"That it did." Orion took one of the glasses and poured himself a shot. "No one seemed to question the validity of our evidence."

"It took a lot to have all that forged on such short notice."

"You made sure there were no gaps?"

"Naturally. The forgers did excellent work, even if the price was completely unreasonable."

Orion nodded gravelly. "That it was, but time is of the essence. We have to push this vote forward. Our current administration is nowhere near prepared or capable of fighting a war against a dark lord. Not after the last war."

"Grindelwald was a complete disaster. I can't fault the government for not wanting to acknowledge the existence of a new dark lord. They're scared of what'll happen, and it's easier to just pretend everything is going to be fine." Malfoy swirled his glass around and stared into the amber liquid thoughtfully. "They did have a point, though. Who do you think should succeed Thornton if the vote goes through?"

"I don't know. But it must not be one of the politicians. They would be just as bad as Thornton."

Malfoy nodded. "Aye, they would be. It's a shame that we need to end Thornton's career like this. She may be a politician, but McNair was right. She always acted for the good of the state, even if it cost her the support of her party."

"At least chances are good she will avoid a jail sentence. The evidence we concocted is just enough to pass the vote of no confidence, but a good lawyer will be able to argue that most of it is speculation."

"You're taking a big risk with this. We could've had more direct evidence falsified, instead."

Orion shook his head. "I know, but sending Thornton to Azkaban for things she didn't do is not something I am eager to be an accomplice of. This entire matter is distasteful enough, as it is."

"You never liked subterfuge," Malfoy chuckled. "However, what do we do if the vote does not go through, because the evidence wasn't strong enough?"

"Then we will have to consider other alternatives. For now, let us hope that what we have set in motion is enough."

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

Lily Evans was angry. Rumors had been flying around, ever since a disheveled-looking Harry Ashworth had stumbled late into the Great Hall for breakfast followed shortly by an equally disheveled-looking Bellatrix Black, two days ago. Actually, her appearance had been impeccable, as always, but she had looked tired, as if she'd spent the entire night awake and doing . . . Lily shuddered, not even wanting to think about it. It was bad enough that he spent so much time around that Black girl, but now this? She stomped her way to her next class, completely unaware of her surroundings, at least until she walked right into someone, and almost came crashing to the ground.

"Watch where you're going, Evans," a female voice said coldly.

"Then get out of my way, Black," Lily shot back as she stepped backwards.

Bellatrix gave her a curious look. She was aware that Lily didn't like her, but the outright hostility in the Gryffindor girl's tone was something new. "You got a problem with me, Evans?" Bellatrix crossed her arms. "If you do, just say so."

"It's none of your business."

"Fine," Bellatrix shrugged. She didn't much care for Lily, anyways, and it didn't really bother her if the girl wanted to make like a popsicle around her. "See you later, Evans." With a casual wave over her shoulder, Bellatrix wandered down the hall. In the direction of Professor Ashworth's private quarters, Lily noted with chagrin. Huffing in anger, she continued to march down to her Charms class.

When she walked through the door, a couple of minutes later than usual for her, a handful of people were already sitting in the room. Much to her annoyance, that included James Potter and his group of marauding misfits, who were huddled over something on one of the benches, apparently trying to cast charms on whatever it was they were working on. Another prank, no doubt, Lily dismissed as she took her seat, as far from them as she could.

"Hmm . . . you think so?" one of them asked timidly. Lily reckoned that was probably Peter. She didn't know any of them well, but aside from Remus, he was the most soft-spoken one.

"Come on, James," Remus intoned, "you're talking nonsense. There's nothing going on between Professor Ashworth and Bellatrix. So they're friends. From what I heard, she was the one who showed him around when he got here, so it's natural they hang out a lot."

"Yes, but on a Friday night? After curfew?" James chuckled. "I think we all know what's going on there, him sneaking around with her after dark."

Sirius cuffed him upside the head. "Oh shush, there's a lady present," he pointed over James's shoulder at Lily, causing his eyes to widen comically. Oops, he mouthed. "And didn't I tell you, I'd be more worried about her seducing him, in any case? Ashworth's kind of a wimp."

"Aha!" James cried out in triumph. "So now you're admitting that there might be some of that going on, after all!"

Sirius groaned at the wide opening he'd left for his friend. "No, but even if there was, it's none of our business. And you have no proof, anyhow, and Ashworth's only a temp. He's gonna be gone at the end of the school year, anyway."

"But I do have proof."

"That map?" Sirius rolled his eyes. "Remus?"

The third Marauder shrugged his shoulders. "It's...sort of working. I think a couple of the charms are interfering with each other. But I'd say it's mostly reliable. We should be able to fix it up in a couple of days."

"See?" James grinned.

"But like I said, there's still some irregularities. I have no clue how you managed to get the map charm to show the girl's bathroom in the Great Hall," Remus concluded. James's smile fell.

"Lighten up," Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "You're probably making a big deal about nothing. I really don't think Ashworth's up to something sinister. The guy's a total gimp."

"Professor Ashworth is not a gimp!" Lily exclaimed angrily, her temper flaring after catching bits of the boys' conversation.

Sirius looked over and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Evans, I meant that in the nicest possible way."

"Still," she insisted, "you shouldn't be talking like that about a professor."

Sirius shrugged. "Well, James here thinks just because he thinks he caught him sneaking out the castle Friday night that he's up to something dark and devious."

"He's a professor," Lily said, as if that explained everything.

"Hey, all I'm saying is that he doesn't strike me as the whole cloak-and-dagger kind of type. I'm actually with you on that, I don't think anything bad is going on. Maybe he just wanted to get some fresh air," Sirius raised his hands placatingly.

"And take your cousin with him?" James interjected.

"Oh, quit it already with your conspiracy theories, James," Sirius groaned. Any further reply was pre-empted by Flitwick entering the room, followed by more students. The class passed in agonizing slowness for Lily, who usually always liked Charms. She even failed to answer two of Flitwick's questions, which was highly irregular for her. Her distraction almost caused her to miss Flitwick's dismissal of the class, and she had to scramble to get her books together in order to make it to her next class—potions. The dungeons were empty at this point; there was only one class that was being held down there, and most everybody avoided it, if it all possible. Lily was much the same—the narrow corridors, the enclosed spaces, the lack of windows, the flickering torchlight even if it was bright daylight outside, it all creeped her out.

"My uncle wants to talk to you, Ashworth."

Lily stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the faint voice. The potions room was usually under lock and key unless there was a class in there because of the expensive and dangerous ingredients in the storage shelves. Usually, the potions teacher arrived early and unlocked the room. But now, the door was unlocked. Whoever was inside apparently hadn't closed it properly. It leaned open by just a tiny crack. Carefully, Lily leaned in closer, peering intently through the opening.

"What about?" She located Harry easily enough. He was standing behind his desk at the front of the room, sorting through stacks of books.

"What happened on Friday night." Lily was close enough to recognize the voice. Gritting her teeth, she resisted the urge to storm in the room and wring Bellatrix's neck. So the rumors were true, she thought to herself.

"What happened on Friday night was a one-time deal. It will not happen again." Harry's voice seemed to harden at that.

"Cut the act, Ashworth." Bellatrix snorted in amusement. "You know that you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me. I'm in, whether you like it or not."

In what? Lily wondered.

"It's dangerous. While I can leave the castle at night without problems, you cannot. Sooner or later, someone's going to get suspicious."

"They already are. Haven't you heard the rumors?" Bellatrix chuckled. "I told you to straighten up after we got back, but no, you had to come to breakfast looking like you'd just frolicked with an orc."

"You didn't look much better."

"At least I didn't look like I just had a roll in the hay."

Harry paused for a moment. "What exactly are they saying?"

There was another pause, and Lily could just imagine Bellatrix rolling her eyes. "Apparently, you and I had a late-night tryst in the woods. Congratulations, Ashworth, you now have a reputation as a womanizer and a cradle-robber."

"I'm not that much older than you, you know."

Bellatrix shrugged. "So? You're a teacher. I'm a student. It's still a big no-no. Fortunately for you, though, there's no proof, no matter how much that Potter brat wants to go on about his magical map."

"Magical map?" Ashworth asked in a decidedly neutral voice.

"Heard it from my no-good cousin. Apparently Potter and his posse have been working on some magical map of Hogwarts of some kind." Bellatrix idly picked up one of the books and rifled through it. "Thankfully, Potter is miserable at Charms, so he fouled it up pretty good."

Harry looked up from the book he was going through. "Do you know everything that's going on in this school?"

"No." Bellatrix shrugged. "Just most of it. If you ever bothered to actually keep your eyes and ears open and listen to what people are talking about, so would you."

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't suppose there's any way I can change your mind? Your father and uncle are going to kill me if anything happens to you."

"Give me some credit, Ashworth. I can take care of myself." Bellatrix flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned around. "Besides, you still owe me a duel. And a spell."

"Yeah, well, things have been hectic the past couple of days." Harry put his books down. "What's your uncle planning?"

Bellatrix shrugged and glanced at him over her shoulder. "I don't know. I reckon that's what my uncle wants to talk to you about. Tonight, at seven."

"All right. And Bellatrix. Stay out of trouble."

"Don't tell me what to do, Ashworth," she replied snidely.

"I mean it. It's dangerous."

"I figured that the moment we were being chased through the forest. I can take care of myself."

Lily hastily scrambled away from the door and around the corner the moment she saw Bellatrix moving to leave the room. She watched silently as the raven-haired young woman disappeared up the stairs, idly contemplating what to do next. Clearly there was something going on between her and Harry that went beyond the usual teacher-student relationship, but it didn't really sound like an affair. For a moment, she considered talking to the headmaster about it, but she discarded the thought quickly. She didn't want to get anyone in trouble in case she had misunderstood something. Maybe talking to Harry would be best.

The thought crossed her mind that it might be none of her business, and that, since it wasn't an affair of any sort, she didn't really have any right to butt in, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly pushed the door to the potions classroom open. It creaked loudly, causing her to wince.

Harry looked up from the stack of textbooks on his desk as the door opened. "Miss Evans, what brings you here? Your class isn't until another half-hour." Harry would love to be able to say that he was using this opportunity to talk to his parents, to get to know them better, to be a part of their lives. But he couldn't, not really. Instead of the family reunion, the instant "clicking" he had imagined when he was younger, it was much more awkward than he had thought it would be. His parents were nothing like what Sirius had told him about, or what Dumbledore had told him. It made sense—this was before the war, before they had finished school. They were very much still children right now.

And as much as he didn't want to admit it, they were, in the end, strangers. Having no real memories except for a few vague, blurry images and voices of his parents, Harry hadn't known what to expect. He didn't know how to react to see his parents running around younger than he was. So, he kept his distance from them, content to watch from afar and find comfort and amusement in their antics he did recognize. The pranking, for instance.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about . . ." Lily shifted uncomfortably as she stood inside the door frame.

"Okay." Harry looked at her in bewilderment. "Come in, have a seat." He waited until she had done so. "What's this about?"

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but hear what you were talking to Bellatrix about just now." Lily hung her head.

Harry stared at her for a long moment, working his jaw, but unable to utter any sound. Shit, he thought. This wasn't something he was prepared for. He reckoned he could count himself lucky that she'd decided to come to him first, instead of going straight to Dumbledore. "I see," he finally managed.

"I mean, people have been talking about you," Lily stammered. "You two seem to spend a lot of time together, so they thought . . ."

"They thought that her . . . and me?" Harry chuckled. He had wanted to laugh hysterically when Bellatrix had originally recounted the rumor to him, but he had figured that it would hurt her feelings. The thought of him and Bellatrix as an item was just too absurd, especially since every time he looked at her, he could almost see a shadow of her older self lurking behind her. He knew it was wrong to associate the two versions of her that he had known, but he couldn't shake off the memories of fighting and trying to kill someone who had been such a mortal enemy for so long. Aside from Voldemort, Bellatrix was the only one he had ever really hated because she had taken Sirius from him.

"I'm guessing from your reaction that the two of you aren't together?" Lily asked shyly, almost hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "Heavens, no. We're . . . friends, I guess. Though I suppose I do seem to see her a lot. She's taken to just barging into my quarters or my office whenever she feels like chatting. I actually find it rather funny; she didn't really strike me as the chatty type." He looked at her sharply. "But that's not really what you wanted to ask, is it?"

"No. I know it's not really my place to ask, but it seems that you're doing something quite dangerous, and she's trying to involve herself in it."

"And you want to know what it is?" Harry frowned. If she really had overheard his conversation with Bellatrix, then she knew nothing of value, except for the fact that there was something going on. That alone could cause a lot of trouble. He silently berated himself for not placing a silencing charm on the room, locking the door, or doing both.

"I don't know." Suddenly, Lily felt rather uncomfortable. It seemed she had inadvertently stumbled into something important, something that no one was supposed to know about.

Harry briefly contemplated lying and telling her that he was working on some secret project for Dumbledore, but discarded that idea soon. It would cause too much trouble if she accidentally blurted something out to the headmaster. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, either. If it became known that there was a dark lord on the loose before they were ready...Bad things would happen, he noted grimly. Or they could call me an attention-seeking lunatic again.

"You're putting me in a very difficult position, Miss Evans," he finally said, pacing behind his desk.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"I understand your curiosity, but as you might have realized, the matter I discussed with Miss Black is rather...delicate. It has to do with the reason her uncle decided to grace me with his favor and arrange my appointment as a substitute teacher at Hogwarts. Let's just say it involves politics, and leave it at that. He also does not want her involved in it, because he deems her far too young to be involved in the scheming and plotting of politicians." Harry smiled wryly. "As you might figure, he's not very fond of them."

"I see," Lily nodded briefly. She could tell there was more to it, but she was smart enough to realize that pushing wouldn't get her anything else. While Harry's tone was amiable enough, the set of his jaw and the distant look in his eyes told her that this was as much as he was going to tell anyone who asked. "I understand; I won't bother you about it anymore, Professor. I'm sorry I asked about something private."

Harry smiled, partly out of relief. "Don't worry about it, Miss Evans. I understand your curiosity. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well..." Lily reached into her book bag and pulled out her homework. "I was wondering about the potion you'd assigned us . . ."

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

"Ah, Mr. Ashworth. Please, go ahead, come in." Orion Black waved Harry inside as the young man stuck his head through the fireplace. A moment later, Harry tumbled from said fireplace to land in an undignified heap on the rug in front of it.

Harry straightened himself up and brushed the soot from his cloak. The living room of the Black estate was impeccable, as always, but this time the furniture had been cleared away, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room. Aside from him and the Black family patriarch, the room was deserted, and the mansion was quiet, though Harry was sure there were house elves lurking nearby, waiting for a command from their master.

"Bellatrix said you wanted to talk to me."

"I did." Orion turned to Harry, a glass of firewhiskey in his hands. "Romulus and I have come to a decision. We will be bringing a vote of no confidence against the Minister. With a little luck, we will succeed, allowing us to install someone in power who will be more favorable to opposing this new threat."

"That's great," Harry agreed. "How did you manage to rally support for that so quickly?"

"We have our ways," came the vague reply. "However, that still leaves the question of who should succeed Minister Thornton in her office." Orion placed the glass down and moved his other hand from beneath his robes, revealing his wand. "However, that is not why I have asked you to come here."

"Then why?" Harry carefully hid his nervousness at the carefully choreographed movement. The meaning was clear—it was a challenge.

"This coming conflict," Orion began, "and I have no reason to doubt your and Bellatrix's word that there is, in fact, a danger coming, will likely shape the wizarding world for years to come. Sides will be chosen, battles will be fought. Ideologies and beliefs pitched against one another. Whoever emerges the victor will no doubt determine the course our world will take. We all must choose the side that we can stand behind. Some will choose to stand with those they believe will be victorious. Those are the cowards. Others will stand with those whose values they believe to be right. Those are the righteous fools. And others will choose to fight them all in order to do what's best for this world, our world. Those are the idealistic old men."

He shifted the glass around the table as he spoke, his voice low. "In order to succeed, we must choose our allies very carefully. We must find those we can trust. We must find those who are willing to fight for our cause, who are willing to die for our cause. Now tell me, Mr. Ashworth, which one of these are you?"

Harry was silent for a long moment, observing as Orion swirled the amber liquid around his glass. "I like to believe that I do what's best for our world," he finally replied.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir."

Orion looked up sharply. "Who exactly are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who are you?" The Black patriarch took a step forward. "I know you're not Harry Ashworth. No one by that name exists. For all intents and purposes, you've lied to me about other things, as well." Another step. "I understand that there are certain people out there who would prefer that their past not find them. But there's a storm brewing, and I need to know who I can trust. Can I trust you, whoever you are?"

Harry swallowed hard. This just wasn't his day. "How did you find out?" he asked.

"The documentation you have is extremely well done. For all intents and purposes, you created a near-perfect identity for yourself." Orion nodded, almost as if in approval. "Whoever you selected to do the forgeries did an extremely good job. However, while they did include a birth certificate for you, there is one thing that cannot be forged. The family registry. Each family member is magically linked to it, so it is constantly updated with births, deaths, and other significant events. Imagine my surprise when upon contacting them, the Ashworth family in Australia found no record of anyone named Harry. No one of your age, even."

"I see." Harry sighed. He hadn't yet thought about what to do about his fake identity. He had known it couldn't last forever, but it was early enough that he hadn't made plans for this particular eventuality, yet. "And you want to know who I really am."

"No."

"No?" Harry looked up in surprise. This wasn't exactly what he had expected. He'd expected questioning, demanding answers, about things he wasn't ready to tell.

"As I said, there are people who prefer their past to remain unknown. I respect that. However, if we truly are going to be fighting this dark lord together, I must know if I can trust you. I must know if I can trust you with my niece's life."

"Why don't you ask her, then?" Harry offered, figuring that it wouldn't hurt to tell him that Bellatrix was trusting him of her own free will. Granted, she was in it because it would benefit her in the long run, but still. "She knows that Ashworth is not my real name. In fact, she helped me set up this identity."

Orion hid his surprise well. "I'm assuming her story about how you two met is a fake, as well, then?"

"Not entirely. You could say it's an abridged version of the truth."

"Interesting," Orion said, inclining his head. "I would be most interested to know why Bellatrix decided to trust you, a complete stranger, the first time she met you. Why she thought you were important enough to bring you to my attention."

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly.

"And tell me, young Mr. Ashworth . . . you knew about this dark lord, well before Bellatrix informed you, yes?"

Harry hesitated a long moment before answering. "Yes, I had my suspicions. It was one of the reasons I came here." It was close enough to the truth to not be a lie.

"And what exactly were your plans for this dark lord? To join him, or to fight him?"

"To fight him."

"Most interesting." Orion looked Harry up and down. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why choose to fight him. Obviously, you could have moved elsewhere, far away. Why involve yourself in this conflict? And do not insult both of us by lying to me. I know that doing what's best for the wizarding world is not your true motivation. If not that, then which is it? Greed? Ambition?"

"Vengeance." Somehow, Harry managed to put all of his hatred for Voldemort into that single word. And it truly was what he wanted, more than anything else. He wanted vengeance for his parents, for Sirius, for everyone Voldemort had killed and would kill. For all the friends taken away, for a childhood denied, for a life burdened with the hopes and fears of an entire nation.

"For a loved one?" Orion asked gently.

"Not just one," Harry managed to grind out, earning himself a look of pity from the elder wizard.

"I see."

"I don't think you do," Harry replied evenly, without thinking. "He has taken everything from me. My family, my friends, my childhood. He took them and laughed. He delighted in it. He's caused pain and misery for more people than I can count Believe what you will about me, but I am going to stop him. I will kill him. With my bare hands, if I have to."

"Ah, at last, an honest reply." Orion chuckled. "Very good, very good."

"What?" Harry stared in confusion.

Orion withdrew his wand and explained. "What we are going to be doing is a very risky undertaking. Taking on a dark lord is inevitably linked with great losses and suffering. Choosing the right allies is vital for our success. I had to be sure that you were trustworthy, that if we were to work with you, you would be willing to see it through to the end."

"I understand . . . I think," Harry said slowly.

"Good, good." Orion returned to pick up his glass. "Now, I have heard from Bellatrix that you have been working with her on your duelling skills?"

"A little," Harry admitted.

"If this war is going to escalate into open fighting, I would very much like to be certain that those closest to my family know how to take care of themselves." Orion cleared the remainder of the furniture away from them with a casual wave of his wand. "Why don't you show me, then, what you are capable of?"

"I'm not sure I should," Harry replied apprehensively, perplexed by the ease with which the elder wizard apparently changed topics, and the ease with which he had gotten out of having his brains picked because his false identity had been revealed. Or maybe I've just been hanging around Dumbledore too long, Harry mused.

"I insist," Orion affirmed. "If you truly wish to make good on your oath, then it is in both our best interests to make sure you are as well-prepared for that task as possible."

Harry fingered the yew wand inside his robes. Ever since getting it from Ollivander, he had tried to avoid using it as much as possible. Even when forced to use it, he had attempted to limit the spells he had cast. Harry knew it was utterly illogical. Voldemort wasn't corrupted through his wand. If anything, the wand was just a tool, something incapable of being inherently good or evil; it was the wielder who made it such. But something held him back from using the wand that Voldemort had used in his time. Despite this, whenever Harry did cast a spell, however minor, he couldn't deny the fact that it felt utterly right, just as his holly wand had. It felt as if it was his, as if it belonged to him.

"Why the hesitation?" Orion asked curiously. "You had no trouble working with Bellatrix."

"Nothing," Harry finally replied after a few moments, and slid into a basic dueling stance that he'd picked up from Bellatrix during one of their sessions. "Just some silly thoughts."

"Really? I have found that most thoughts are anything but. They may appear that way first, but upon deeper inspection, they reveal that they are far more." Orion responded in kind, raising his wand. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry wondered if he should as he reflexively parried a casual stunner from his opponent's wand. It couldn't hurt to talk to someone about it, especially someone as knowledgeable as Orion. If it had been Dumbledore, Harry would have been much more leery; there was no doubt that the Black patriarch would clearly wonder why Harry was asking this particular set of questions, but given their recent conversation, he felt much safer that Orion wasn't going to press the issue.

"Protego," Harry called up a shield as he side-stepped a hail of fist-sized bolts of magic. "Sure, I guess."

"Interesting choice of spells," the elder wizard commented idly as Harry's return fire splashed harmlessly against his own shield.

"Hypothetically speaking, when two wands share the same core, but go to two different wizards—" Harry stopped short as he wordlessly ducked underneath a barrage of spells, then pointed his wand at the ground. "Effumidus," he muttered, causing a billow of smoke to erupt from the tip of the yew wand. The smoke quickly grew to darken his side of the room. Using it as cover, he slid around to the side. A flick of his wand sent random trinkets from around the room flying at his opponent.

Orion arched a curious eyebrow at the smokescreen, then side-stepped the counter-attack of flying knickknacks, his keen eyes taking in every move Harry was making. "Ventulus," he replied, the spell parting the smoke easily, leaving Harry exposed. "Keep going," he said.

"What does it mean when a wand picks a different wizard?" Harry finished, dropping to the ground to avoid a staccato of icy javelins that disappeared harmlessly before they could hit the wall behind him. He leveled his wand at the other side of the room and summoned it to him. Physics caught up, and caused him to be displaced instead, as he slid across the ground along the floor. "The same wand, I mean," he explained before hastily leaping to his feet and causing the floor to break upwards with a wave of his wand.

The makeshift barrier tore up the ground of the living room, but went up just in time to intercept a massive concussive blast the elder Black had sent at him. The loose rock, marble, and dirt held together by Harry's magic wavered and crumbled around the edges, but held firm as the blast expended itself against it. Harry let out a relieved sigh, having caught the wand motions his opponent was making just in time to put up his frantic defense. Orion was clearly aiming to escalate the fight, forcing him to use more of his instincts and more devastating spells.

Orion cocked an eyebrow in interest. "One wand, two owners, you say?" He idly deployed his own shields around the room, watching from behind the translucent barriers as Harry's spells pounded his defenses. "Curious. Is this the situation you find yourself in? I thought Bellatrix had you acquire a new wand from Ollivander's."

"I did." Please don't pry any further, please don't pry any further, Harry thought to himself as he banished loose pieces of debris towards his opponent. "I was just asking hypothetically." He followed the makeshift missiles in with an actual magic missile, before apparating across the room.

"Interesting hypothesis, then," Orion smirked as he batted away the renewed assault with ease. He found himself rather impressed with Harry's abilities. While he was obviously lacking variety and had clearly never been officially instructed in the dueling arts beyond basic training, he was more than making up for it with the raw power he could throw behind even the most basic of offensive spells. Not to mention his creative use of non-combat spells. While the attacks were doing very little to whittle down Orion's shields, the barrage was intense enough to force him on the defensive. The Black patriarch wasn't sure if that was intentional because most of his opponent's fighting tactics seemed to occur on an instinctive level. Keeping that in mind, the elder wizard decided to up the ante.

Harry opened his mouth to utter the incantation when the room erupted into bright white light. Reflexively, he dropped to the ground as an ultrasonic shriek pierced the air, his eyes clenched shut against the impossibly bright flash of light. He couldn't see or hear anything, but had the presence of mind to scramble away from his current position. His ears still ringing, Harry forced his eyes open, but the only thing he could see was pure white. He could feel the searing heat of a fire spell passing by him as it missed, and hastily threw up the most powerful shield spell he knew. He could feel it crack and whine under the strain as Orion opened up and went on the offensive, and knew that he was in trouble unless he did something . . . right now.

In desperation, as he felt the magical buildup from the elder wizard across the room, Harry reached into his mind's eye and imagined himself standing at the other end of the room. Right as the bolt of concussive force leapt from his opponent's wand, Harry disapparated silently. Time seemed to stand still for him as he felt the room blurring past him until he appeared in the location he'd imagined, knowing despite being unable to see that he was looking right at the Black patriarch's exposed back.

"Tenerio Dextera!" the binding spell blasted his opponent. Orion turned, the spell clipping him instead of catching him full-on. The elder wizard's brow furrowed in concentration as he fought with the magic of the spell. By the time he recovered, however, Harry could see again, though his vision was still spotted and blurry. Taking advantage of his opponent's temporary immobility, the youth flicked his wand, sending a pair of stunners screaming in high and low. Another quick motion sent more pieces of debris flying at Orion as his combat reflexes took over.

His renewed assault, however, expended itself harmlessly against a shimmering barrier, causing Harry's jaw to drop. He had never even seen the elder wizard raise his wand to cast the spell. His eyes narrowing, Harry arced his wand around rapidly, causing random pieces of furniture and rock to orbit around them in a seemingly chaotic pattern. The flying debris took occasional nosedives at his opponent, preventing Orion from doing much more than arch a curious eyebrow behind his shield.

Orion was about to wave his wand and dispel whatever charm Harry had placed on the makeshift missiles when three of them converged on his location at the same time. Shifting stances, Orion altered his wand motion fluidly, blasting the incoming projectiles with bolts of magic.

"Orbus Solis!" The roar of magic behind him alerted Orion to the fact that he had run into one of Harry's traps, as the blazing sphere of fire expanded rapidly, encompassing half of the room. The only thing he could do was reinforce his shields as sheets of flame washed across it, blocking his vision. It was an impressive spell to know for one so young, he mused. But I had better stop this before we damage the room. Further.

With a grand sweep of his wand, Orion sent a wave of concussive force outwards, instantly extinguishing the magical flames. "Enough," he said. "I have seen enough of your performance for one night, Mr. Ashworth. I must admit, it was quite impressive." If a little crude, he added to himself quietly. Harry visibly relaxed. The boy has talent, and he's clearly fought before, but no one seems to have taken the time to properly teach him. But his way of fighting is most intriguing. He makes use of mundane spells...very creative, very unique. Very effective . . . I can see why Bella would have trouble countering it.

"Thanks," Harry replied uncertainly as he glanced around the destruction they'd wrought. "Sorry about the room," he added sheepishly.

"Not to worry." A wave of his wand restored the floor to its former marble glory. Scorch marks and blast pockmarks on the walls erased themselves. The carpet returned, and within moments, the room looked as spotless as it had when their duel had begun. "One of the benefits of living in an ancient magical home," Orion explained. He smiled easily as he returned his wand to his robes and settled in a chair.

"Now, to return to your question about the wands . . . it is not unheard of for a wand to have two owners. Although this usually occurs after the previous owner dies, and someone else inherits the wand. It's usually re-sold, as the chances of the inheritor matching the wand are rather slim." Orion peered intently at Harry, who was shifting uncomfortably, and knew that his answer was about to hit very close to home. "But as you were asking about brother-wands, the matter is a little more complicated. You see, wands are more than just the sum of their components. They are more than an amalgamation of the wood, the core material, and the binder and catalyst that connect the two. Each wand is unique. Even in the case where two wands share the same core, they will usually be uniquely different, and hence, pick different owners. They are usually not compatible with the other wand's owner, either."

"I see," Harry began.

"No, I don't believe you do," Orion replied evenly. "You see, no one really knows what makes a wand choose a particular owner. There has been speculation about that ever since the first wands were made. However, if a wand is compatible, exactly compatible with two different owners, it usually means they are connected in some way. Not by blood, not necessarily by their actions, but by something more. Something deeper. Some people would call this something fate. I prefer to think it is just the way magic works. Whatever the case, it usually means those two are destined for something." He didn't need to ask, he already knew that Harry's hypothetical situation was much more than that, but he figured that he had put him through enough for one night. Whatever hidden agenda Harry Ashworth—or whatever his real name was—had, Orion was suitably convinced that it lined up well enough with his own.

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

"You're a mess."

Harry glared at the young woman who was sitting in his armchair as he stepped out of the fireplace in his quarters at Hogwarts. It was late at night, probably just before ten. Curfew would be in a few minutes, which made him wonder what Bellatrix was doing in his private quarters. That thought was quickly followed by the question of how exactly she had gotten into his private quarters without him letting her in.

"For your information," he told her, "your uncle is a mean duelist."

"I know. He used to be one of the best in his youth." Bellatrix smirked. "He trained me."

"That explains a few things," Harry muttered to himself.

"So, how badly did he wipe the floor with you?" she asked gleefully. Harry wondered if maybe this had been a ploy of hers all along, in order to get revenge for losing to him all the time.

"It was a draw," he said."

"What?" Bellatrix jumped out of her chair. "No way!"

"Believe it. We stopped because we didn't want to blow up half the building while we were at it." Harry wisely decided not to mention the fact that, had the battle gone on any longer, he would almost certainly have lost. While he was younger, Orion had the skill and experience—and, most importantly, the variety—to keep him on the run the entire time.

"So, what do we do now? What's my uncle's plan?"

Harry idly noted that Bellatrix seemed to have inherited her uncle's ability to change topics without batting an eye. He took off his robe and carelessly tossed it over the back of his desk chair. "Your uncle is going to bring a vote of no confidence before the Wizengamot. He's planning to replace Thornton with someone more capable."

When Bellatrix remained silent, he turned to look at her. "What?"

"And what exactly is your plan?"

"Aside from lying down and getting some sleep?" Harry narrowly dodged the kick at his shin. "What was that for?"

"I told you to stop monkeying around, Ashworth!" Bellatrix spat angrily. "Need I remind you that you were the one who told me that this was serious, and dangerous? I really hope you have a plan to deal with this dark lord, because now my head's on the line, too!"

"Relax, I've got a plan," Harry assured her. "And yes, it's still a work in progress. And you should be glad that it is, because if I didn't adapt it to whatever Tom is doing, it wouldn't be a very good plan, now, would it?"

"Well, then, care to clue me in, Ashworth?" Harry had to chuckle at the pose Bellatrix was striking. Back straight, fists stemmed into her hips with a defiant glare, she was the complete antithesis of her future self.

"It depends on how much support your uncle can rally. If the vote passes, then I can operate much more freely, under a government that will actually sanction any actions against Tom. If he doesn't, well . . ." Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time I've had to operate under the radar."

"Under the what?"

"Radar." Harry shrugged. "Sorry, muggle expression. It means—"

"I got the gist of it, Ashworth. No need to go all muggle studies on me." Bellatrix frowned at him. "Back to my question. What now?"

"For now, we'll keep our ears to the ground. Undermining Tom's support with the pureblood families is top priority. He may be able to attract all the young folk to him, but I'm willing to bet that their parents aren't going to be so quick to jump on the bandwagon. If we can deprive him of access to their fortunes, half the battle's won."

Bellatrix shook her head. "Not likely. Hate to break it to you, but if he throws them the same pitch as he did the kids last week, then there'll be quite a few families who'd be willing to join them. A lot of them resent the current government for stripping them of their titles, and they blame the loss of their wealth and influence on anyone but themselves."

Harry shrugged as if it didn't concern him, knowing that it would annoy her. "Plan B, then."

When he turned around and Bellatrix was still there, staring at him expectantly, he carefully hid a grin. "What?" he repeated.

"Well, what is it?" she almost sounded whiny. Impatient. Harry enjoyed it for a brief moment.

"Obviously, Tom is working in secret because he's not ready for a large-scale attempt, yet. He's not ready to show himself to the world. Maybe it's because he doesn't have the resources, or enough support. Maybe he's not quite done with whatever dark magic he's studying. Whatever the case, he's got a reason for staying hidden. All we need to do is give him a better reason to come out." Harry smirked at the incredulous look on Bellatrix's face.

"You want to lure a dark lord out on purpose?" she just about shrieked. "Are you bloody nuts?"

"I'm perfectly sane, thank you," Harry replied with a hint of amusement. "Think about it. If we draw him out before he's ready, we can engage him while he's off-balance. He won't have all the support he's expecting. He won't be strong enough to carry through with whatever plans he's made originally."

"And how do you propose we do this?" Bellatrix asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Just walk up to him and ask him nicely to come show his face?"

"I have a few ideas," Harry replied vaguely.

14. Examining the Playing Field

A/N: Many thanks for your reviews. They really do make a difference.

Chapter 13

By

Claihm Solais and Lord Silvere

"Are you sure letting Ashworth walk away is a good idea?"

Orion glanced over the newspaper he was reading. Casting the copy of the Daily Prophet aside, the Black patriarch took a few moments to compose a reply. "I believe him when he says that he wants to fight this dark lord. And we have no reason to doubt Bellatrix's word that the dark lord exists."

"Still . . . he's a pretty big unknown quantity," Malfoy noted as he sat staring into the fireplace. The evening was devoid of drink, for a change, and the living room at the Black mansion had been easily restored after Orion's duel with the young wizard.

"And?" Orion prompted.

"And it's not uncommon for dark wizards to disguise themselves, to act like ordinary citizens until the time comes to strike. The smart ones, the powerful ones, anyway. They didn't get to be that powerful by being careless and stupid. That's for the masses of followers they tend to attract. No, they're usually cunning and discreet." Malfoy turned his gaze away from the flames.

"You think Ashworth may be the dark lord?" Orion chuckled. "Whatever he is, I am sure he's not . . . Tom. Not when Bellatrix so clearly met this dark lord character with Ashworth standing next to her."

"Not the dark lord himself, no, but one of his lieutenants. I can believe that," Malfoy admitted. "He's smart, he's mysterious. He appears on the scene right as this threat begins to rise. What if he's playing us all?"

"He's got the talent, I'll admit that, and it would make sense, of a sort," Orion acknowledged his peer's concerns. "And you're right; the scheduling is just a little too convenient for it to be entirely coincidence. But his anger seems real. You can't fake such a strong reaction. I believe him when he says that he will fight against this dark lord. However, I will keep an eye on him. There's much anger in him, justified anger, but you and I both know that that's a very fine line that's easily crossed."

"I suppose. But I'd feel better if we had a contingency plan, just in case."

Orion nodded. "Indeed, and I have a few things in mind. Rest assured that if Ashworth becomes a liability, he will be dealt with."

"All right, I'll leave it in your hands, then."

"There's something else on your mind?" Orion sounded almost amused.

Malfoy smirked knowingly. "You're not letting those fools from the Wizengamot select a candidate for Minister, are you?"

"Merlin's beard, no." Orion shook his head curtly. "They would just bicker amongst themselves about who'd be most beneficial to them. No, that entire meeting was just to ingratiate ourselves with them. However, we need to find someone to which they will not be able to object. Someone who, nevertheless, will be willing to follow our agenda."

"That's not an easy thing to ask, Orion. Any outsider we brought in on this would have to be informed about the developing situation with the dark lord. After they've passed rigorous screening, of course."

"I was actually thinking of keeping things . . . closer to home," the elder wizard explained quietly. "We need someone we can trust unconditionally, which excludes anyone who's not a part of our families. If things escalate with this dark wizard, then we'll be fighting another war, and I for one do not want to be relying on someone whose motives I am uncertain of to direct this war for me."

"Then I assume you had someone in mind already?"

Orion nodded. "My brother, Cygnus. He has no ties to politics or any of the politicians, no political agenda, no history they could take advantage of, either to argue for or against him. He is, however, a successful businessman, well-liked, and we can use that to our advantage."

"And he'll be absolutely loyal to our cause," Malfoy finished.

"Correct." Orion's gaze hardened. "The wizarding world cannot take another war like the last one against Grindelwald. It must not be allowed to come that far."

"I agree," Malfoy nodded. "Have you talked to him about it at all?"

"Not yet. I was planning on doing that tonight, at least until I got distracted by the matter with Ashworth."

"I see. So, what's your impression of him? Aside from the obvious question of his trustworthiness, that is," Malfoy inquired.

"Like I said, he's skilled, certainly. His fighting methods are . . . strange, but his reflexes and spatial awareness tell me that he's been in combat before, probably mass combat, like the kind of open warfare we fought against Grindelwald's forces. His duelling skills are atrocious, not because he lacks the talent, but because he clearly hasn't been trained, but he makes up for that with very skillful use of terrain." Orion frowned as he recalled the battle.

"Something else bothering you about him?"

"His spells. You and I both know that there's a very specific set of combat spells that are taught to each Auror and Unspeakable. Then there's the dark spells. He knew none of these."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow in interest. "So we've got an unknown quantity who's clearly been in combat, yet has not been combat trained at all?"

"So it would appear. And somehow, he is still alive, which speaks for his sense of tactics, though I get the impression that most of it comes to him intuitively."

"I don't know if that'll make him easy or difficult to combat, if it comes down to it," Malfoy admitted.

"I would rather err on the side of caution. I get the impression that young Ashworth would prove to be a formidable enemy on the battlefield, if only because of his stubbornness."

Malfoy grinned. "Which makes him a perfect match for your niece, doesn't it? I hear he's been driving her up the wall."

"So it would appear." Though he showed no outward signs of it, Malfoy could detect the slight change in timbre of his old friend's voice that indicated his amusement.

"In any case," Orion continued, "should Ashworth turn out to be on the wrong side when this conflict begins, then we have enough official reasons to detain him."

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

"I'm worried, Albus."

"About what, Minerva?" Wizened old eyes stared at his colleague over silver-rimmed glasses as they sat in the headmaster's office.

"This Ashworth fellow," the witch began, "he seems a nice enough person, and he's certainly competent, but surely you've heard the rumours that have been going around the castle lately."

"Rumors, Minerva?" There was an amused twinkle in the depths of the headmaster's silver eyes. "I had not pegged you for someone who paid heed to the grapevine."

"I don't, normally," the silver-haired Transfiguration mistress acknowledged, "but this one has been persisting for a while."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded sagely as he reached for a lemon drop. Popping his favorite candy into his mouth, he enjoyed the flavor for a moment. "You're referring to the rumours about Mr. Ashworth and Miss Black having an illicit affair? Lemon drop?"

"That's the one," McGonagall confirmed as shook her head to turn down the yellow confection. The deputy headmistress only barely managed to avoid shuddering in revulsion at the thought of lemon drops – she had tried them once, fifty-odd years ago, at Dumbledore's insistence, and the memory haunted her to this day. They were just so . . . so sweet. Utterly, beyond-sugary, disgustingly sweet. It made her wonder why they were called lemon drops if they didn't even taste like lemons, or anything remotely sour, for that matter, at all.

"I think it's harmless."

"Really, Albus? From what I hear, Ashworth is taking leave of the castle at odd hours. And even during the day and in between classes, he seems to be spending an unusual amount of time with Miss Black. In his office, in private."

The ancient wizard noted with interest that she seemed almost offended by this idea. McGonagall had been one of the faculty who had not been particularly fond of the board appointing Harry as Slughorn's replacement for the school year. "I understand that they are spending quite a bit of time together, but do keep in mind, they are close in age, and she is the first friend he made in this country. That does not necessarily mean there's anything going on between them."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," McGonagall muttered. "They're close in age, and I've seen the way she looks at him. And even more, the way he looks at her! He looks at her with this . . . this thoughtful, absent look. I know that look!"

"Do you, now?" Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Be that as it may, is there any substance to those rumours?"

"Not that I can tell, but you have to admit there's something unusual between those two."

"They're friends, Minerva. I would assume that, since the rumour has not yet faded, they are indeed closer than usual for faculty and student, but given their circumstances, I can understand that, certainly," Dumbledore noted absently. "I think we should give them the benefit of the doubt."

"I still want to keep an eye on things. I mean, I've caught Ashworth leaving the castle at odd hours at night." The witch frowned. "And he was quite evasive when I asked him where he was going. Said he wanted to get some air."

"Understandable. He's young. I imagine he feels rather constrained within the castle. And since his quarters are here, he doesn't have anywhere else to go but out."

"I still think we should do something about-" McGonagall looked up sharply. "Albus! Are you even listening?"

Dumbledore blinked and nodded automatically. "Of course, Minerva."

"Good," the deputy headmistress said, "because if you were about to doze off . . ." she left the sentence unfinished.

"Good heavens, no, Minverva, I'd never do that to you."

"Good," she repeated.

"Be that as it may, I think for now it is best if we give them both the benefit of the doubt, and carry on as usual. If there is anything going on between those two that violates school rules, I am sure we will find out soon enough."

McGonagall shook her head. "I'd rather nip it in the bud before it becomes a problem. We don't need the board to come down on us again and interfere with the way the school is being run, Albus."

"Then I am sure you will keep an eye on the situation, and let me know if something develops." Dumbledore smiled at her graciously.

"Naturally." McGonagall rose from her chair. "If you'll excuse me, I have a class I must get to."

"Of course, Minerva. I will see you at dinner?"

With a curt nod, the elderly witch departed the room. The moment she left, Dumbledore dropped the airhead façade and sagged in his chair. Part of him wanted to tell her he agreed with her suspicions, only that he didn't think Harry and Bellatrix were lovers. There were things going on in the wizarding world that he was sure were connected to the abrupt arrival of one Harry Ashworth, but he had no idea what those things were. As it was, it was too early to voice his suspicions to any of his staff, even his most trusted ones.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Moody stumbled through the fireplace, coughing and patting the soot from his robes as he entered.

Dumbledore shrugged nonchalantly and gestured towards the chair that McGonagall had just vacated. "I'm afraid you would need a small fortune, if I were to list them all."

"That bad, eh?" The auror grumbled as he sat down and made a face when the headmaster offered him a lemon drop. "No thanks, I try to stay away from those."

"Oh well." The elder wizard shrugged again.

"I assume you've heard the news?"

"Which?"

Pulling a copy of the Daily Prophet from his robes, Moody flipped the paper open and handed the page over. "These. They've named a candidate to take Thornton's place if the motion goes through."

"Hmm…" Dumbledore skimmed through the pages. "Cygnus Black?"

"There's something fishy going on there, I tell you." Retrieving a flask from within his robes, Moody took a long swig from it. "First they put forward a vote of no confidence, then this. Especially considering who spearheaded the vote."

"If I recall, that was Davian Prewitt, wasn't it?"

"Who's a friend of Orion Black's. You can bet that old manipulative bastard is pulling Prewitt's strings," Moody grumbled.

Shaking his head, the headmaster put the paper down. "Not necessarily. I know Davian Prewitt. He may be one of the old guard, like Orion Black, but he's not an easy man to fool. Nor is he easy to manipulate."

"Then maybe he's in on it. But don't you find it a little too convenient that we're running into the Blacks so much these days?"

Dumbledore took a moment to think about it, and realized that the auror was right. "Indeed. It is rather curious, but one has to wonder what they are trying to achieve with this."

"I'm willing to bet you that that Ashworth fellow is in it, somehow. I don't know how they're linked, but he must've started it all. Everything went crazy the moment he showed up."

"Now, I wouldn't exactly say things are going crazy right now," Dumbledore replied mildly. "But you are right, I wonder how everything is connected. Young Mr. Ashworth's sudden appearance and appointment to Hogwarts, and now this motion before the Wizengamot."

"You think they might be taking over? I couldn't help but notice there's nothing but purebloods sponsoring that motion." Moody glanced up from his flask. "By the way, check page three. Another couple of young purebloods causing some trouble."

"I see." Dumbleore rifled to the appropriate page and skimmed the article. "Realistically, while I wouldn't put it past Orion Black to put something like this into motion, I don't believe that he has anything to do with these incidents. Violence like this isn't his style."

"And it's mighty convenient that he's trying to push his brother into office."

"I would be careful with that," the headmaster cautioned. "While you might suspect Orion Black is behind the vote of no confidence against Minister Thornton, there is nothing you can do to prove it. Even then, he's not doing anything illegal. The evidence that was put forth is pretty incriminating."

"Nothing that'd hold up in court," Moody snorted.

"No, but it does raise valid questions about the Minister's allegiance. In either case, it would be best if she is removed from office long enough for this matter to be resolved. If it turns out to be just some clerical error, then no harm is done, but I see the wisdom in the motion."

"What do you think their position is on this whole mess their kids are getting into?"

Dumbledore shrugged and folded up the newspaper. "I like to believe he's too smart to involve himself with that. Also, one or two isolated incidents might be coincidence, but this many in this short a time? And all of them happening so suddenly, with no warning? I can't help but think there's more to it than that."

"And somehow the Blacks are involved."

"Undoubtedly. I am sure Orion Black knows of what's going on. Perhaps he is even involved somehow, but until we know more, we can't really plan a proper course of action. Even if they are attempting a pureblood takeover."

"Couldn't you just post your own candidate?"

"We could," Dumbledore acknowledged, gently stroking his beard. "However, at this point, I don't see much point in doing so. It would just complicate matters, and delay a new leadership from taking office. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen soon, and no matter who's in office, having someone taking the reigns will be better than having the entirety of the Wizengamot divided about whom should be sitting in that chair."

Moody growled as he realized his flask was empty. "Hrm. Need ot put a spell of bottomless bottle on this thing. What if Black's behind this whole thing? Wouldn't it be best to put someone other than his chosen one in office, just in case he's trying to play us?"

"Then we will deal with it when the time comes. I do believe, though, that Orion Black, shifty and manipulative as he may be, has, in some twisted version of honor, the good of the wizarding world at heart. He was one of the greatest supporters of the war against Grindelwald, despite the fact that their beliefs lined up exactly."

"I suppose," Moody admitted grudgingly. The Black family had been one of the leading forces in the struggle against Grindelwald, even before the conflict had escalated into outright war. Despite the fact that they were a pureblood family, Orion Black was a smart enough man to realize what was going on in the wizarding world, and he had quickly seen that Grindelwald's ambition would tear the wizarding world apart if he went unopposed. In a way, the Blacks were one of the more liberal families in the wizarding world, if such a word could be applied.

The decision to embrace all of magic, including the magicks that were in the hazy grey zone between what the Ministry labelled "good" and "evil" as well as their decision to support the involvement of muggles in the wizarding world had alienated the Blacks from many other families. Dumbledore had to admit that it was a controversial stance to take, one that raised many questions, but one that he could respect Orion Black for taking. It was quite a paradoxical view, the headmaster noted to himself; the Blacks were a typical family with their belief that their heritage entitled them to more than the average wizard, and especially muggles. On the other hand Orion knew that without fresh blood the wizarding world was doomed in the long run.

"How do you think Ashworth is involved?" Moody asked suddenly, tearing the older wizard from his thoughts.

"I think your initial suspicions of him may have been correct, and that he is, in fact, an agent of either Messrs Black or Malfoy, but I have to wonder why they would entrust such a delicate task to someone unknown to them," the headmaster replied slowly.

Moody snorted. "Maybe it's not so unimportant, after all."

"Oh, but I think it is. Neither Orion Black nor Romulus Malfoy ever does something just for the sake of doing it. If they have assigned one of their agents to Hogwarts, then they have done so for a reason." Dumbledore reached for another lemon drop.

"So, what are you going to do about the whole vote of no confidence thing?"

"I will, of course, pass my vote at the Wizengamot, along with the recommendation to resolve this matter swiftly." Another lemon drop. "And I will keep an eye on Mr. Cygnus Black once he is situated in office. As to the young purebloods who are causing all these incidents, I believe the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is capable of handling it."

"Of course," Moody grunted derisively. "These drunk hooligans are no match for even a trainee."

"Good, then so far everything appears to be under control. Please do let me know if you find out something."

"Sure." The auror stood and left through the fireplace, leaving the headmaster alone in his office.

Rubbing his temples, Dumbledore sighed in annoyance. Orion Black was a master manipulator, and trying to unravel any plans of his inevitably ended up in a headache. The headmaster reached for another lemon drop, only to find the bowl empty. With a tortured groan, he sank deeper into his plush armchair.

It was going to be one of those days.

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

The scratching of a quill on parchment was the only thing that could be heard in the room. Then a sigh and the flutter of paper as another scroll joined the "done" stack on the right of the desk. The next was summoned from the seemingly never-ending pile of "yet to do," and unrolled on the desk, and the laborious task of grading the essay was started anew.

Harry Potter hated grading essays.

It was part of his daily grind as a faculty at Hogwarts; a boring reprieve from reading up on current and past events and trying to figure out how to best approach the situation. Harry was used to waging war – what he wasn't used to was having to lead it. The quill stilled, and Harry suddenly realized his hand was shaking as the reality of the situation hit him. Here he was, trying to change the course of history and attempting to take on one of the most feared dark wizards of all times, in a battle of magic and wits. And if that wasn't enough, then there was everyone else whom he would have to outmaneuver – Dumbledore, the Blacks, the Malfoys…and Bellatrix.

The thought of out-manipulating any one of these master manipulators alone would have been ludicrous, but here he was taking them all on at the same time. What am I thinking? he thought to himself as he forced his hand to stop shaking. Did he really think he could succeed? What was he even trying to accomplish? Now that things were in motion and he had the time to think things through, Harry realized that he had no idea what he was doing in the past. Was he trying to kill Voldemort, prevent his rise to power?

And then what? With Voldemort dead, where would that leave him? He was stuck in a time he knew nothing about, in a universe that was no longer his own. Alone. What would he do then? Harry held no illusions that once his usefulness ended, so would his affiliation with the Blacks and Malfoys. How was he going to live, earn a living? Was he even willing to? Aside from Bellatrix, he had no real friends, no one he could fully trust.

That thought brought him up short. Trust? Bellatrix? It was a notion that would've been utterly laughable to him just a few months ago, before his trip back in time. She was the enemy, then. See Bellatrix, exchange witty (and sometimes childish) insults with Bellatrix, shoot at Bellatrix, disengage. Lather, rinse, repeat. Harry sighed wearily. Back then, everything had been so easy. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the bad guys, Dumbledore led the war, and the Ministry was incompetent. Harry went out, blasted a few Death Eaters, and ran back into hiding, and that was that. Simple.

And now he was playing games of politics and intrigues that he was completely unfamiliar with, in the hopes that he could somehow out-smart Voldemort. If he could be defeated, at all. Voldemort in Harry's time had been . . . incredibly, insanely powerful. More so than even Albus Dumbledore, despite the fact that Voldemort resided in a magically crafted body. Would he be able to deal with Voldemort when it all came down to it?

"You quite done moping, Ashworth?"

"What?" Harry's head shot up from where he'd buried it in his arms. "Oh, it's you."

"And a good day to you, too," Bellatrix responded with mock cheer.

Harry decided not to grace that with a retort. "What do you want?"

"That any way to talk to someone bearing news?" Bellatrix snorted in disdain and carelessly tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table. "My uncle's moving things ahead."

Picking up the paper, Harry skimmed through it briefly, one eyebrow arching curiously. "He nominated your father for Minister?"

"Yep."

"And they're going along with it?"

"Yep."

"And you're going along with it?"

"Yep."

Harry sighed and put the paper down. "Are you going to tell me the rest of it, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

"Well…since you asked so nicely," Bellatrix smirked and polished her nails on her robe. "Since my uncle met with you last week, he's been in almost constant meetings with Malfoy, senior, and my father, I think they're up to something. That's probably part of it – since it's Prewitt sponsoring the motion, you can bet my uncle's got his fingers in there somewhere."

Harry leaned back and resisted the urge to tell her that he had already suspected as much. He had a feeling that she knew that he knew, and that she was just looking for an excuse to come talk to him, presumably to…

"By the way, Ashworth," she continued, "it's been a week, and you still haven't gotten off your butt and done anything."

"And how would you know that?" Harry replied evenly.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to reply, but closed it when she couldn't really think of anything to say. With a huff, she crossed her arms. "You haven't done anything but show up to class," she finally said.

"As far as you know," he said.

"Fine. Have you done anything, then?"

"I-" Harry just managed to stop himself from saying 'no,' knowing full well that she'd smugly give him that 'I-told-you-so' look of hers. It was almost as aggravating as her future self's insane laughter. He was saved, however, by the proverbial bell in form of an owl that entered through his window and made a smooth landing on his desk. "I've got mail, apparently," he finished lamely.

"So you do," Bellatrix deadpanned.

Taking the letter from the owl's proffered leg, Harry noticed that it hopped over to the corner of his desk and settled in, obviously waiting for a reply. He rooted through one of his drawers for an owl treat, and fed it to her, patting the bird on the head as it crooed in contentment.

"Are you going to open it?" Bellatrix asked, pointing at the envelope whose front merely declared Mr. Harold Ashworth, Hogwarts Potions Master's Chambers in an elegant green script.

"I think my mail's none of your business," Harry shot back, but picked up the envelope, anyway. Turning it over in his hands, he noticed that there was no return address, and the handwriting was unfamiliar. He didn't especially feel like reading through his mail in front of Bellatrix – for all he knew, this was a prank love-letter from her just so she could see him blush and stammer – but somehow he had the feeling it was important. Tearing it open, he unfolded the letter.

Dear Mr. Ashworth,

I am a scion of one of the less prominent pureblood families, who is concerned with the current state of affairs. My sources inform me that you may be sympathetic to our cause, and I would very much like the opportunity to speak with you in private. If you would be so gracious as to accept my invitation, please send your reply by owl. I will be expecting you on Saturday by ten at night, at the Gaunt Estate, reachable by floo.

Harry frowned as he skimmed the letter then froze as he reached the signature. His face paled and his hands trembled slightly.

Instantly, Bellatrix noticed. "Ashworth?" Bellatrix leaned over the desk in concern. "Hey, Ashworth, don't freak out on me now! What's wrong?"

Stuffing the letter into the first drawer he managed to claw open, Harry tried to force himself to calm down. "Nothing," he replied shakily, "nothing at all."

"Don't nothing me, Ashworth, you look like you've seen Madam Pince's underpants! Spill it, what the hell was in the letter?"

The mental image of the phrase so close to a similar muggle phrase that Harry knew was so utterly ridiculous he couldn't help but choke out a helpless laugh. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

The look in Bellatrix's eyes told him she wasn't buying a single word that had just come out of his mouth. He'd expected that, and waved her off. What he hadn't expected was for her to reach over, grab a hold of his lapels, and haul in across the desk to stare right into her eyes.

"Dammit, Ashworth, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that I'm on your side?" she spat angrily. She looked like she was about to say more, but opted for shoving him back violently. The young witch stood and walked over to the window, her shoulders heaving in restrained fury. Harry could tell from the way she stood and the tension in her back that she was fighting with herself to keep calm.

When she finally turned back around, her violet eyes had narrowed almost to slits as her gaze bored a hole into him as she stood, looking for words. A storm of emotions crossed her eyes before she re-asserted her mental control and schooled her features into stoic indifference once more.

"Look, Ashworth, aside from me being on the bad side, I don't know what happened between us in this future of yours. You even said you knew the way I fight inside and out, so I assume we were enemies, and that we've fought sufficiently often. I know that the future you come from is probably anything but pretty, and that you're used to this whole fight-or-flight thing. I'm probably not one of the people you'd ever have thought would be on your side, but fact of the matter is, I am." Bellatrix intoned slowly, carefully.

"As you said yourself, I am not who I was in your time. Or will be. Whatever. I'm not her, not yet, hopefully not ever, if I'm reading what you told me correctly," she appealed to him, "and this time, I'm with you. I'm on your side. If you don't want to believe me, then at least believe that I have as much reason as you do to want to avoid the future you were in. We're in this together, Harry. I can help you. I want to help you, but you've got to let me. I'm not letting you fight this war by yourself."

She'd taken a few steps toward his desk, and had leaned forward, placing her hands on the polished wood as she leaned down to look at him. He could see the honesty in her eyes, so clear of the deception and madness that marked her future self. It was ironic, he mused, that one of his most hated enemies would become his confidante. And he did trust her, he realized with a start. Harry had no idea how it had happened, but somehow, despite their ceaseless bickering and her superior attitude, he'd come to trust her, even rely on her. Since he'd appeared in the past, she'd been a constant presence by his side, refusing to leave him alone by sheer stubborness on her part.

And as much as he might not have liked it in the beginning, he was grateful for it now. He had none of his friends with him in this past that magic had thrown him into, but he had Bellatrix. Bellatrix, who had helped him, who had taken it upon herself to involve herself in his schemes and who refused to be shackled by the idea that her future was going to be written for her by someone else. Bellatrix, who even now wanted to remain by his side even though she knew that he was going to do something that any sane person would've deemed a lost cause, leading a resistance against a dark wizard by himself.

Her presence had been something constant at least throughout all the whirlwind of action and chaos his life had been in the last few months, something he could hold on to. And Harry suddenly found the thought of not having her by his side nearly unthinkable, knowing that it would leave almost as gaping a hole as Sirius's loss had left him with. She deserves to know, he decided, not everything, for now, but at least the gist of it.

Straightening in his chair, Harry gestured for her to sit back down and placed a locking and privacy charm around his office. "What I'm going to tell you is not to leave this room under any circumstances, is that understood?"

Seeing that he was dead serious, she nodded curtly. "Got it."

"First of all," Harry began, "you have to know that there's things I can't tell you, because it would simply be too risky. Tom is an expert legilimens. I'm not putting down your abilities, but I've seen him break through even the best occlumency shields. I can't risk having him scan you and find out that you know too much. It would be too risky for you and for this whole effort."

"I understand," she replied.

"Good. All right, then, where to start." Harry ran a hand through his hair in thought. "In my time, Tom is a dark wizard who managed to rise to power once before. That time is now. There was a war, which I don't know much about, because apparently it was so bad that everyone refused to talk about it-"

"Typical," Bellatrix snorted in disgust.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Right. Anyway, by some freak accident, Tom managed to get himself killed. Ten years the wizarding world spent rebuilding, recovering. And then, he rose again."

"Wait, what?" Bellatrix interrupted. "How'd a dark wizard just 'get himself killed'? Did Dumbledore kill him? And how in the world did he manage to come back?"

"How he got himself killed is . . . complicated. Knowing how he got himself killed is extremely sensitive information, so I'm not going to tell you the details. Let's just say that when it happened, his physical body was destroyed, but his soul, somehow, survived."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're involved in this somehow, aren't you?" She could see the way he was shifting uncomfortably, and decided to relent just a little. "I won't push any further . . . for now."

Harry continued with a grateful nod. "The first person he ran into while he was trying to stage his return was . . . me. I'd just started Hogwarts, and he'd just started scheming on how to get a physical body back. I foiled his plans several times over the following four years."

"You're telling me that you," the witch looked Harry up and down appraisingly, "screwed with a dark wizard's plans for resurrection for five years, and lived? And you expect me to believe you?"

Harry shrugged. "I reckon he was just a shadow of his former self by then, and looking back on it, I really had more luck than I deserved. Fact of the matter is, me and my friends kept him from getting a physical body back for four years."

"I take it then that things went downhill from there?"

"Right. In my fourth year, he succeeded. He managed to finish a blood ritual that created a new body for him."

Bellatrix smirked in amusement. "I'm also guessing he was pretty miffed at you for messing with him for the past couple of years."

"That's putting it mildly," Harry muttered under his breath, knowing that her keen hearing had picked it up, anyway. "With his return, things quickly degenerated into open warfare. And yes, he was pissed. Little old me managed to make the number one most wanted spot."

"And then what? I take it the war went badly?"

"It actually went okay at first, we were doing pretty well," Harry recalled. "At least, until Tom decided to send out kill-teams to target anyone important enough to rate one. Dumbledore rated three. A couple of the other leaders got one or two."

"And you?"

"I rated five." Harry sighed. "That's how I got captured. And you know the rest about how I ended up here."

"That I do," Bellatrix agreed. "Now, not that I find all of this back-story enlightening, but how does that tie in with the letter that had you white as a sheet?"

"I know Tom's real identity."

"I gathered that," Bellatrix said, "and?"

Harry pulled the letter from his drawer, and showed her the last three lines.

I look forward to meeting you in person.

Sincerely,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

"And he just sent me an invitation to meet with him."

15. A Slytherin's Risk

A/N: Here's our Christmas surprise for you. Happy Holidays!

Chapter 14

by

Claihm Solais and Lord Silvere

The fire was roaring invitingly, but Harry couldn't find any comfort in the flames right now. It was nearing ten at night, and he was seriously wondering whatever madness had driven him to reply in affirmative to Voldemort's invitation. He was about to step into the home of one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time. What was he thinking? A hand on his arm stilled his trembling form.

"You sure you want to do this, Harry?" Bellatrix asked softly.

"Too late to back out now," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Guess I'll find out if he's made me, or not."

"And possibly get killed." Bellatrix countered.

"I suppose."

"Keep in mind, he did chase us through the forest. I still say you should leave the spying to me," she continued, "he's marked you for interest, but chances are he wasn't following me specifically. Only reason he was, probably, because I was with you. I told you there's another meeting tonight at midnight. I could go there and find out what's going on."

Harry shook his head. "No, it's too dangerous. I told you before. Your father and uncle are going to have my head on a silver platter if I let anything happen to you."

"And this dark lord isn't?" Bellatrix's grip tightened. "Look, despite the fact that my uncle's getting himself involved now, somehow I have this feeling in my gut that no matter what anyone else does, you're the key to this, so I'll be damned if I just let you run off and get yourself killed!"

"Yeah, too bad we can't just shove a nuke through the floo and be done with it," Harry muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Harry waved her off.

Bellatrix finally let go of his arm and moved to stand in front of him. Fists stemmed into her hips, she glared at him defiantly as she blocked the way to the fireplace. "So you're just going to waltz in there, and what? Have tea with a dark lord?"

"Something like that."

"Look," she sighed in exhasperation, "why don't you just tell my uncle, and we can figure out—"

"No," Harry shook his head vehemently. "I'm not involving your uncle in this."

"If this is some kind of macho thing, Ashworth…"

"It's not."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really," she deadpanned. "So you spend however long in your time fighting this guy, being hunted by him, and then you're captured and tortured and whatnot and marked for death. And you tell me you're fine with just accepting an invitation to tea that probably is a trap? He's probably suspicious of you already!"

"And if I don't go, he will be suspicious." Harry sighed. "Look, I don't expect you to understand, but I know him better than anyone else, even Dumbledore. I spent five years of my life fighting against him, watching friends die because of him. I know him. That's why I've got to go now. If I can get into his inner circle, I can destroy him and his bid for power before it even starts."

She stared at him in disbelief. "What? That is your plan?" she shrieked.

"Part of it. Let's just call it a recent addition, since he did invite me." Harry crossed his arms belligerently.

"Your plan's stupid," she told him bluntly.

"And you have a better idea?"

"Damn right I do," she replied haughtily. "One that doesn't involve you getting yourself killed for nothing."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would you stop talking like I'm dead already?" he asked in annoyance.

"Then would you care to tell me what makes you think he isn't going to kill you outright after he chased us halfway across England the last time we saw him, because someone who shall remain unnamed conveniently forgot that he shares some kind of weird psychic bond?"

"I didn't forget," Harry corrected. "There was no other way. He was going to be there, and it couldn't be avoided. I am counting on the fact that certain future events haven't happened yet, which means he will be unaware of the significance of said bond."

"Oh, and he's just going to be curious and ask you what that's all about?"

"Perhaps I can convince him I was trying to probe his occlumency shields. The sensation is pretty close to it." At Bellatrix's pointed glare, he continued. "I know him. He's curious, especially if I'm not an enemy. He's also arrogant, as long as he thinks he's got the situation in hand, he won't kill me."

"And if he doesn't fall for it? You told me yourself he's a powerful legilimens, and I'm sure he's capable of breaking through your shields, as well. Especially if he's as curious as you say he is. Why bother asking you when he can get what he wants this way, and without having to figure out whether you're lying to him or not?"

Harry shook his head belligerently. "He likes toying with people. Unless you're a threat to him, he'll have his fun messing with you first before he kills you."

"And you know him that well." It wasn't a question, and Harry almost cringed at her accusatory tone.

"Yes, I do."

Bellatrix sighed. "Tell me, Ashworth, are you willing to bet your life on that? Do you even have a backup plan in case things go sour?"

"I'll make a break for the floo, and get out."

"Ashworth, you're an idiot."

"Miss Black—"

"Don't 'Miss Black' me! You think I can't see right through you? Well, news flash, I can read you like an open book, Ashworth," Bellatrix's voice rose in pitch and volume, and Harry was glad he'd put a silencing charm around his quarters once more – a habit he'd gotten into thanks to Moody's constant drilling on constant vigilance.

"Really?" Harry shot back acerbically, irritated at her sudden questioning of his motives and her arrogance at presuming to know what he was thinking. Who does she think she is, he thought angrily.

"Yes, really," Bellatrix said flatly. "You think I can't tell you hate this guy's guts? You think I can't tell how much you're just itching to prove yourself, to get back at him for whatever shit he put you through in your time?"

"Yes, I hate him," Harry hissed angrily, "yes, I would kill him given the chance, and I would do so gladly. He's a dangerous madman, and if he's allowed to live, he'll cause everyone unimaginable pain and suffering!"

"He'll cause you unimaginable pain and suffering," Bellatrix replied quietly.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but realized he couldn't. She was right, and he knew it, as much as he wanted to deny it. He wanted revenge on Voldemort, he wanted him dead, but not for such lofty goals as saving the wizarding world, or preventing all the bloodshed Voldemort would cause. It was part of the reason, certainly, but as he'd told Orion, he wanted vengeance. He wanted Voldemort to die for all he'd done to him.

Seeing the realization flash across his eyes, Bellatrix's tone softened considerably. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened to you in that future of yours, but I can imagine it wasn't pretty. I'm sure you lost friends, maybe even family. And you want revenge for that, it's understandable. But I'm not going to let you throw your life away on some stupid plan because you think it'll get you one step closer to killing him, your life be damned, you understand?"

"Despite what you may think, I'm not suicidal," Harry muttered in annoyance.

"Could've fooled me."

"Look," Harry sighed, as he set himself to explain himself to his erstwhile partner, something he found himself doing surprisingly often lately. "I'm not planning on getting myself killed, as much as you might think so. Yes, I want to get back at him for what he's done…will do. Yes, I hate him. But I didn't fight against him as long and hard as I did just so I can die when all's said and done. You're asking me to trust you, and I do. But that goes both ways. I know things about him that no one else aside from him knows. I know his deepest, darkest secrets, his strengths and his weaknesses. I know his arrogance and his powers, his cunning and his tactics. I've duelled him often enough to know how he fights and how frighteningly powerful he truly is."

Bellatrix was silent for a long moment. "You've fought him before?"

"I have," Harry confirmed without pride.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ashworth, because I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces all the time."

"I do. Trust me." The clock chimed, and Harry stepped around her, noting that she made no move to intercept him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You just make sure you do."

"Don't worry, I will." He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace. "Gaunt Estate."

As he stepped through the flames, he turned to look over his shoulder. "And Bellatrix…stay out of trouble."

In a flash of green flames, he was gone.

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

Harry stepped out of the fireplace without stumbling, for a change. The room he had entered into was dimly lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The light was barely enough to illuminate the center of the room, leaving the walls in utter darkness. A coffee table and bar were set up in the parts of the room he could see, along with a seating group. A man sat with his back to the fireplace, his long black cloak shrouding his form as he sat on a barstool at the counter.

"Good evening, Mr. Ashworth," the person said, surprising Harry. It wasn't the deep, grating voice of Voldemort, but rather, the pleasant, cultured, if arrogant tones of the Tom Riddle he remembered from the diary in his second year.

"Mr. Riddle," Harry feigned nonchalance. "I have to admit, I was surprised by your invitation."

"I have to admit," Voldemort said as he turned around, "it is a bit irregular of me. I do not make a habit of asking people over to discuss matters privately. Mainly because I found I cannot trust many people."

"I know that particular feeling very well," Harry replied evenly.

"Do you, now? Interesting." Voldemort gestured towards the stool next to him. "Please, have a seat."

"I prefer to stand, thank you."

Voldemort stared at him appraisingly for a moment, and Harry raised all of his mental shields in preparation for the legilimency attack that was sure to come…but it never did. With an almost casual shrug, Voldemort returned his attention to the glass he was nursing. "Suit yourself," he said.

"I'm guessing you didn't invite me here for idle chit-chat?"

"Indeed." Voldemort seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts, and Harry was left to wonder about the dichotomy of this more casual, almost relaxed wizard, which was such a contrast to the firebrand image of himself he projected to the Death Eater assemblies.

"So why am I here?"

The glass was set down on top of the polished wood with a solid clink. "Because, Mr. Ashworth, I am…very curious about you."

"Really? And what did I do to rate this…interest?"

Voldemort rose from his chair. "You are aware of the current situation of the wizarding world, yes?"

"I am. There's quite a bit of unrest in Great Britain about the decline in pureblood supremacy. Mostly people being discontent with the loss of their wealth and status, as I understand."

"You are correct. I am…leading a movement to rectify this."

Harry was getting sick of these games of politics everyone around him was playing. It seemed unspoken etiquette that people danced around the subject as if they were in a shop full of fragile china, even if everyone knew damn well what they were talking about. It wasn't his nature.

"Let's cut the pleasantries. You and I both know you're the person who calls himself Lord Voldemort, and we both know what you want."

Something akin to a smile graced the dark lord's features. "Indeed. I see you're a person who doesn't like beating around the bush, very good, very good. Then allow me to tell you why you are here. I had hoped that by signing with my…common name would avoid trouble if you read the letter in company that is unaware of our relations."

"Please do."

"Very well, then." Voldemort took a step towards Harry, the flames from the chandelier and the fireplace casting his face in an unearthly glow, allowing Harry to see him clearly for the first time. The skin on Voldemort's face and neck was pale, even more so than the moonlight had suggested at their first meeting, and the skin was pulled taut over his bones. He still looked very human, but very different from the image Harry had of him as Tom Riddle nonetheless.

"When we met in the Forbidden Forest, I knew there was something different about you," Voldemort began. "Something…I couldn't quite put my finger on. You must have felt it, also. Tell me, Mr. Ashworth, were you trying to probe me?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. The sensation was close, very close, but not quite. Nothing like…this."

Harry felt a searing pain in his forehead as Voldemort's mental probe lanced through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter, ramming its way through his occlumency shields. In desperation, Harry erected more barriers in his mind, only to watch in horror as one of them fell after the other. He could feel Voldemort's mind probing deeper and deeper into his mind, closing in unto the secrets he held safely locked away in the back corner of his mind: the knowledge of the future and what Voldemort would become.

A small eternity seemed to pass, though in reality it probably was only a few seconds when Harry stumbled upon one last, crazy, desperate defensive tactic. Mustering all of the skills he had of legilimency, he sent a psychic backlash through the connection Voldemort had established with him, hoping to slow Voldemort's crushing advance through his mind with a withering barrage of his own. It worked – he could feel Voldemort's probe recoil and retreat as the dark lord stumbled backwards, clutching at his head.

Harry found himself on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he tried to shake off the pain that hit him when Voldemort finally fully withdrew from his mind. "That…wasn't nice," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Impressive. I wasn't expecting that, I'll admit." Voldemort collected himself and rose to his full height as he towered over Harry. "I find it interesting that there is something in your mind you seem determined to protect at all costs. Is it, perhaps then, linked to this strange sensation I feel whenever I am close to you?"

Managing a brief grimace at the way that sounded, Harry stumbled to his feet. "I swear, if you're going to tell me you're attracted to me, I'm gonna…"

"Your humor is misplaced, Mr. Ashworth." Voldemort paused for a moment, then seemed to back off. He didn't physically step back, but his presence receeded, giving Harry some breathing space. "I am sure you understand my need for secrecy. If I recruit people to my cause, I need to be absolutely certain of their trustworthiness. There can be no secrets in my inner circle."

"Sorry, but I generally don't like people messing with my head," Harry replied. "You should see the headache I gave Dumbledore on my first day at Hogwarts."

"Curious. I can understand your desire to keep some things private, however your response to the threat I posed to you just now has shown to me that you possess an extraordinary level of talent, compared to the majority of the wizarding world your age. I am sure you can understand my puzzlement as to why you came to England. Your family is almost nobility in Australia, so why come here? Why come all alone, without a friend or contact, so alone, in fact, that you are even now relying on the Black and Malfoy families to advance your career? And how is it that the Malfoy and Black patriarchs show such generousity to what amounts to a complete stranger?"

Harry shrugged passively. "Maybe they were feeling charitable?" He made sure to avoid mentioning Bellatrix's name, tried to avoid thinking it, even.

Voldemort chuckled. "I highly doubt that. No, there is something about you that makes them believe you may be of value to them."

"If you're implying I'm being used by them to further their goals, whatever their ulterior motives are, then I am well aware of that. Likewise, I am merely using them as a stepping stone to see that my own goals are realized."

"Good, that is very good. Intelligent people are so rare among our kind these days." The dark wizard nearly grinned toothily. "Whatever the case may be, I am interested in why you came here, when you could have lived comfortably in your home."

Thinking fast, Harry replied with what he figured Voldemort wanted to hear. "Things aren't exactly all happy sunshine down under. This…muggleborn rights movement is gaining popularity, though it took longer for it to take hold in Australia than it did here, since we didn't get hit nearly as hard by the fallout of the war as Europe. But there is talk of bringing more equality to our society, and frankly, it disgusts me. I had heard that there was an opposition to that forming in Britain, so I came here. That I crossed the Blacks and Malfoys on the way is mere coincidence, though a fortunate one."

"I see…" Harry could tell Voldemort was weighing whether to believe him or not. Deciding to up the ante, he added one more piece of bait.

"Especially since I am sure that I can bring considerable leverage to your position in the decisionmaking process of both houses. Like you said, for some reason they have decided to trust me. My position there…could benefit you. Greatly," Harry offered.

"A tempting offer, if I were inclined to take the risk you would pose to me in such a position." The dark lord inclined his head in contemplation. He raised his head, staring Harry in the eye. "I have to decline, I'm afraid. You see, Mr. Ashworth, if I have learned one thing, then it is to never surround myself with intelligent people…because intelligent people inevitably will find a way to stab me in the back."

Voldemort's hand slipped into his robes, and Harry had no doubt that he was going for his wand. "Besides," the dark wizard continued, "I know that Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy are not so easily swayed. They may not like muggleborn, but their belief that they are the salvation of the wizarding world is unshakable. That alone would be reason for me to be suspicious of your offer, but now I notice it comes on the heels of a motion to put the Black family in power."

"And if I can convince them to support you, that would be all the more help for your cause."

Voldemort laughed as his wand cleared the sleeve of his robe. "No, Mr. Ashworth, I did not come this far by being stupid. My life, my cause is built on the premise of obscurity. In the shadows we hide, in darkness we move, in anonymity we act, until the time is right. This place you see here has not been seen by mortal eyes for decades. The Ministry has all but forgotten about it. It belonged to a mediocre wizard who used to believe in his own superiority because of his bloodline. He was proven wrong, and in the end, he died a sick, lonely old fool. I know better. Our bloodline is only one thing, but power, true power, has to be earned. It has to be earned by walking the path everyone else fears to travel. It has to be earned by delving into the deepest secrets. But I will not jeopardize my cause by bringing it into public view."

Harry shrugged as he tried to reach for his own wand as secretly as possible. "Your loss, I guess."

"No, Mr. Ashworth, it is your loss. I know Black and Malfoy are aware something is going on. They are far too sharp not to. Maybe they even know there's malcontent spreading amongst our youth over the way things are. You would be a threat to me, as close to them as you are." Voldemort's wand was out now, pointing straight at Harry, who gulped in surprise as he stared at the piece of wood his nemesis was wielding. It was a familiar eleven-inch long piece of holly.

"Then why bring me here?" Harry asked, trying to stall for time, and thinking to himself that Bellatrix had been right – coming here had been a colossally stupid idea. "Just so you can kill me? You never had any intention of talking about recruitment, did you?"

"Oh, but I did. I did until I realized how powerful you were in resisting my probe. Having someone around me who can keep secrets and is willing to defend them so violently is never a good thing." Voldemort flicked his wand, and the fire in the fireplaced died down to glowing embers. "Now you have a choice. Live or die, it's easy as that. I do see the wisdom in having you as an ally, Mr. Ashworth, but having you as an ally with free will would be much more of a risk than I am willing to take. I am, however, not a bloodthirsty barbarian. You're free to leave, if you will consent to be put under the Imperius spell."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will die."

!~~~!~~~!~~~!

The clock tower of the castle chimed midnight, loud enough that it was clearly heard even deep in the Forbidden Forest. When nothing happened, and no one appeared, the students slowly started muttering amongst themselves. Bellatrix pulled her cloak tighter around herself and stood off to one side, trying to make out as much of the ongoing conversations as she could. Her solitude didn't last long, however, because a broad-shouldered cloaked figure strode up to her, easily recognizable as one of the Lestrange brothers.

"Well, well, well…who do we have here?" the voice revealed it to be Rudolphus. "I see you're not in the company of that git of a teacher today. What happened, dear Bella? Lover's spat?"

She decided to not grace that with a reply, and remained silent, knowing it would irritate Lestrange. It worked, and she could see his shoulders tense.

"What's the matter, Bella? No witty comebacks tonight?"

"Just decided you weren't worth one, Lestrange," she shot back quietly.

"Ohhh, feisty," Rabastan said as he approached from the side. The elder Lestrange brother smirked under his hood. "Her father's appointed candidate for Minister, and she's already letting it go to her head. Aren't you, Bella?"

"Screw you, Lestrange."

"Wouldn't you just like to?" Rabastan grinned, then looked over at his brother. "Say, maybe you should hit up Mother and Father to see if they'll arrange a marriage with her for you. It'd be great for the family standing!"

Bellatrix decided to respond to that in a mature fashion: by kicking his shin. Lestrange's howl of pain was drowned out by the rustling of the leaves in a strong breeze. A chuckle from behind them drew Bellatrix's attention. Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight.

"As if Orion Black would ever consent to a daughter of his house to marry into someone of as low a standing as a Lestrange," he commented with a smirk.

"Say, do you know what we're doing here, blondie?" Rudolphus asked in irritation, and was rewarded with a baleful glare from Romulus Malfoy's only son.

"As far as I know, there were a few matters to resolve with regards to the membership of our little group," he replied haughtily.

"Hey, listen up, folks!" A student's voice rang out across the clearing as two figures moved to stand in the center of the grassy field. Eventually, all conversation around them stilled.

"Okay, so listen. You heard what the big man said last time, and you've all had time to think about it," the same figure spoke, and Bellatrix tried to match a face to the voice. Gretchen Goyle, she recalled, a brute from Slytherin who never amounted to much intellectually, but certainly had more brawn than half of their Quidditch team put together.

"And we've decided to sign up with him, so he's told us to hold this meeting," the other figure announced, and Bellatrix matched it to Cannabo Crabbe…another muscleman from Slytherin, and she idly wondered how these two idiots had somehow made it to the top of Tom's recruitment list.

"Get on with it, already!" Rudophus shouted impatiently, earning himself what would've been a withering glare from anyone else. From Crabbe, though, it was just a look of mildly depressed stupidity.

"Now, the first thing on the list," Bellatrix barely managed to suppress a groan when Crabbe, good goon that he was, pulled out an actual list, "is some admonis- adminos-"

Goyle elbowed him in the ribs. "Administrative, ya git!"

"Right, ad-mi-nis-tra-tive," Crabbe enunciated carefully, "matters. Before each of you can get the boss's approval and earn yourself your badge, you'll have to prove your loyalty to him."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy asked.

Goyle lit up his wand tip and pulled back his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of black ink on his pale forearm. "This. All of us who are with the boss are marked like this, so we know who's loyal."

There was a muttering amongst the students, which was quieted by a shush from Goyle. "Look, the first thing it says we gotta do is weed out the real deals from all of ya's who're only here for kicks. Because this isn't a game we're playing, this is serious. So we're gonna use this."

The vial glinted in the silver moonlight. "That's veritaserum," Crabbe provided helpfully.

Bellatrix spied a small group of students out of the corner of her eye that made an about face and left the clearing.

"If you're not serious about joining up and doing what the boss says, then just go now and save yourself the trouble," Goyle added, "but if you take it and your answers ain't to our liking…you won't be liking them consequences."

Crabbe cracked his knuckles as if to emphasize the point, and more students broke off from the meeting and returned. Bellatrix felt torn; part of her brain was urging her to leave, knowing that there was a good likelyhood that she was going to be found out when they administered the serum to her. Another part wanted to stay, knowing deep down that this was important and hoping that either she could fool the serum, or somehow avoid being asked questions that would compromise her.

The remaining students began to file themselves into a line, and she suddenly found herself at the rear, wedged in between Malfoy ahead of her, and the two Lestranges behind her. Her mind kept churning over the matter, until Bellatrix realized with a start that there were only two students ahead of her. Then it was Malfoy's turn.

"Name?" Crabbe asked.

"Lucius Amadeus Carolinius Thaddeus Malfoy," he replied blankly, oblivious to the chuckles around him.

"Are you a pureblood?"

"Yes."

"What are your intentions in joining this group?" Goyle read off yet another pre-written sheet of parchment.

"To gain power and prestige by any means necessary, and restore the Malfoy family name in the eyes of the wizarding world."

It was apparently a satisfactory answer because Crabbe and Goyle nodded after a brief moment of muted conference. Then came a question that caused Bellatrix's blood to run cold.

"Do you know of anything about Lord Voldemort that could pose a threat to him, or are you spying for anyone or any organization?"

"No."

"Okay, you pass." Goyle, as the slightly-more-intelligent of the pair, waved Malfoy forward, while Crabbe turned to Bellatrix.

Panicking slightly, Bellatrix forced herself to calm down as she took one slow step forward. Okay, think, Bella, think…how am I gonna get out of this one? She eyed the bottle of veritaserum apprehensively, forcing her legs to move at a steady pace and hoping no one was noticing how much she was trying not to shake in growing terror as she realized that the questions were standardized, obviously written by Voldemort to ensure utter and complete loyalty among those chosen to serve him.

Dammit, Ashworth was right, she thought as she realized she was in over her head, and that she should have left when she had the chance. Then it was too late, and Crabbe was holding the bottle over her as she opened her mouth. The droplet of truth serum hit her tongue, and she felt the sensation wash across her body instantly. It numbed her thoughts, fogged her mind, and she could almost see herself answer automatically to the questions through a haze.

"Name?"

"Bellatrix Estella Black."

"Are you a pureblood?"

"Yes."

"What are your intentions in joining this group?"

"I…" Bellatrix fought the haze with all her might, and managed to still her tongue before replying. The urge to answer and say I am infiltrating this group to bring about its downfall grew stronger with each passing second. The strain on her grew, as did the pain. It must have shown on her face, because Crabbe was backing up and looking at her strangely.

"Get a grip, Bella," Lestrange – she didn't know which one – said from behind her and shoved her forward.

"She's not looking too good," someone commented from the side, followed by a chorus of agreements.

"I think she's fighting it…" Malfoy, now recovered from his own brief stint with a small dose of the truth serum, noted.

Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to just let go and let her body say what it will, but she knew that if she did, she was dead. She had to hold on at least till the serum wore off, any illusions she had that she could fight it and somehow reply with a lie had gone up in smoke and wishful thinking.

"Why's she…" Rabastan broke off abruptly. "Of course, her daddy's set to become Minister! It's a shoe-in, so daddy's little girl here is spying for him!"

Crap, was the only thought that shot through Bellatrix's mind as she heard that. The next thing that caught her attention was the rustle of many hands reaching for wands. She managed to stumble to the side, away from Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the students, but her body refused to move any faster than that.

"Oh no, you don't," Rudolphus reached out and grabbed her arm. "So, what do we do with her?" he asked Goyle, who checked his list of instructions and hurriedly conferred with Crabbe. Leering at her, Lestrange couldn't resist copping a feel as he held her fast.

Before anyone could answer, though, Bellatrix's mind cleared enough for her to act, and she thanked whatever deity would listen that Voldemort had picked the stupid ones as his executors, because they couldn't seem to decide what to do with her quickly. She lifted her leg and stomped down hard.

Rudolphus's scream of pain echoed in the clearing as he let go of her in favor of dropping to the ground and nursing the foot she'd just stomped on. The rest of the group looked on in stunned silence as Bellatrix reared back and kicked the younger Lestrange right where it hurt the most, then whirled around and disappeared into the forest at a dead run.

"Get her!" Goyle shouted angrily, and the students started running after her.

16. Redressing the Lines

A/N: As is usual, the statement we made about real life occupying our priorities remains true. That this is a joint effort further complicates matters. For the next while, I (Lord Silvere) will have more free time than usual. However, that only translates into a little bit of progress for Delenda. I've developed a Harry/Fleur plot that I will author on a solo basis and post under this pen-name. If anyone is interested in beta reading or plot consulting, contact me.

We also want to thank you for your reviews. They have been encouraging and we are very grateful. We hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 15

By

Lord Silvere & Claihm Solais

Harry's thoughts were racing as he stared at the tip of Voldemort's wand, which was pointed straight at his chest. A memory of a Defense class from his fourth year at Hogwarts came to his mind unbidden. Barty Crouch, Jr., disguised as Alastor Moody, had trained him to throw off the Imperius curse at will. Once Voldemort allowed Harry to leave, he would be able to throw off the curse and return to Hogwarts with no trouble. Harry suppressed a smile as he raised seemingly fearful eyes toward Voldemort's. "I guess I shall have to choose the Imperius," he said slowly.

"I thought you might be wise enough to choose that," Voldemort said silkily. He raised his wand and intoned the spell, directing it toward Harry.

Instantly, Harry felt his mind cloud. Voldemort's voice echoed inside of Harry's head, giving him instructions. Return to Hogwarts. Protect any students that might be working for me from Dumbledore's scrutiny. Do what you must to prevent Dumbledore from discovering my existence. The commands continued in a long, steady stream. Fuzzily, Harry wondered whether he'd be able to throw of the curse if it included so many commands. Telling Crouch, Jr., that he was not going to jump on a desk was a far cry different than overcoming a complicated set of instructions. Finally, Voldemort ran out of instructions for Harry and finalized the whole curse by instructing Harry to obey his every request.

Unsure about what to do now that Voldemort was finished with the spell, Harry stood woodenly, watching the dark lord's every movement. This seemed to be the correct choice because Voldemort casually walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, ignoring Harry completely. Taking a sip from his glass, Voldemort sighed and sat down.

The dark lord indulged in a well-satisfied smile and looked at Harry. "Tell me, Mr. Ashworth. What is the secret that you were attempting to hid from me?"

Harry cursed to himself through the fog that was the Imperius curse. He couldn't lie while the curse was in place, but would Voldemort know if he broke the curse before leaving? The answer was probably yes. Even if Voldemort could not actively monitor the curse, the dark lord would probably be acute enough to realize that Harry had thrown the curse and was lying.

"Can you hear me, Harry?" Voldemort said as he leaned forward, staring into Harry's eyes carefully.

Time was running out. Harry realized that he was going to have to overwhelm the Imperius curse and escape from Voldemort as quickly as he could. The element of surprise would help him—a little. If he could get off a spell likely to cause a maximum of damage and distraction, he would stand a chance. As he mulled his options, he realized that he was limited only by how much risk he was willing to take. Feeling awfully desperate, Harry chose his spell.

"Mr. Ashworth!" Voldemort said, a slight note of confusion in his voice betraying his concern for whether his Imperius curse had been successful. "Answer me, now. From now on, you will obey all commands promptly." Voldemort smiled, reckoning that he had discovered the problem and solution to Harry's lack of response.

Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes and snapped the curse from his mind as he had been trained. It seemed that Voldemort detected this action immediately, for his red-tinged eyes widened in shock as Harry abruptly drew his wand and with a broad sweep and loud incantation summoned a wave of fiendfyre, shooting it in the dark lord's direction. Wasting no time, Harry pointed his wand at the wall behind the fireplace and yelled, "Reducto!" as Voldemort hissed in fury while trying to neutralize Harry's magic.

The wall exploded outward into the night and Harry ran through the hole in the wall, scraping his arms and face on the rubble. He spun around and summoned another wave of fiendfyre, directing it with great difficulty toward the hole through which he had escaped. He ran a few yards to escape any anti-apparition wards Voldemort may have erected and then apparated to a random forest. Harry began running through the underbrush until he heard the distinctive pop of Voldemort apparating to where Harry himself had landed.

Harry froze, attempting to not make any noise. He considered apparating instantly, but opted to bide his time to see whether Voldemort might move on in his search. Unfortunately, Voldemort saw through this ploy, simple as it was. Wantonly, the dark lord waved his wand and set fire to the forest. The instant light blinded Harry and exposed him to Voldemort's view. Harry instantly apparated, but not before a nasty cutting jinx from the dark lord sliced the side of his torso. He landed in the middle of a Muggle street in London, dashed a few feet and apparated again to a spot very close by, repeating this step a few times before apparating back to another random forest.

Anticipating that the mixed trail he had left in London would buy him a little bit of time, Harry pointed his wand down at a shallow angle. Immediately, a jet of fire shot from the wand and Harry spun where he stood, lighting everything within a ten-foot radius on fire. He then apparated about a hundred yards away to observe his handiwork. Very soon, Voldemort arrived, apparating directly into the flames. The dark lord screamed, though Harry suspected it was more a result of his fury than any pain the flames might be causing. To distract Voldemort, Harry summoned yet another wave of fiendfyre, wincing at the amount of magical energy it took him to direct it toward Voldemort. This will have to be the last fiendfyre for the night, Harry concluded.

While Voldemort attempted to use a flame freezing charm on the miniature forest fire and negate the fiendfyre simultaneously all while shooting random curses that he hoped might find Harry, Harry cast a charm causing a number of firecrackers to appear above Voldemort. Instantly, the firecrackers began to explode, reassemble, and explode again causing loud explosions and blinding flashes of light. Using the staccato explosions to mask the sound of his movements and magic, Harry quickly began to apparate back and forth and around the forest leaving a very complicated and convoluted trail for Voldemort to follow. He finished up with his last apparition taking him to where he had started. Happily Voldemort was still dealing with the fiendfyre. It had taken hold on some of the surrounding shrubbery and was resisting the dark lord's attempts to extinguish it.

Harry then ran through the forest and scrounged in his pocket for a random object. Finding a knut, Harry drew it from his pocket and transformed it into a portkey with a quick tap of his wand. Instantly, it transported Harry to the street that functioned as the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Realizing that he could now have both Ministry employees and Voldemort on his tail, Harry instantly apparated to Diagon Alley. Hoping that the alley had enough apparition traffic to mask his own, Harry then apparated to the sea-side and landed near the edge of a rather tall cliff from which he hoped to make his final move.

Harry spotted a rather large boulder that was set into the dirt near the edge of the cliff. He walked over and stood squarely over the center of the large rock. Regretting that he didn't know any flying charms and did not have the ability to transfigure rocks into flying brooms, Harry hoped that Muggle physics might work in his favor. Gripping his wand with both hands and putting his back to the ocean, Harry cast a charm to prevent the rock from moving and then a banishing charm at a slight angle. The banishing charm on the boulder transformed into a repelling charm on Harry, causing him to be catapulted out toward the ocean.

When Harry judged that he had been thrown quite far enough over the water and was too near to hitting the waves, he apparated to the Hogwarts boundary and sprinted onto the grounds. Try and find that apparition point, snake-face, Harry smirked as he tiredly walked toward the castle, vaguely wondering if Voldemort had ever even found the portkey trail.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix's heart pounded as she ran through the forest. Hoping that escape could be as simple as apparating away, she drew her wand and made an attempt. Unfortunately, her spell was cancelled by the Hogwarts wards. They were in the Forbidden Forest but not quite far enough from the castle to escape the wards. She supposed that since the meeting had not required Voldemort's presence, the Lestranges and Malfoy had not felt the need to leave the ward boundaries. "Damn!" she whispered, resuming her rapid pace through the forest. Occasionally, she could hear yells signaling that she was being pursued.

Various strategies for coping with the situation immediately presented themselves to Bellatrix, but before choosing one she focused on what her ultimate goal should be. Get back the castle, barricade yourself in Harry's quarters, she instructed herself. Hopefully he didn't get himself killed tonight.

Now with the goal in mind, Bellatrix began choosing her strategy. She would need to move toward the castle, but her Voldemort-supporting classmates would undoubtedly anticipate that move. After all, their futures essentially depended on stopping her from returning to the castle and ratting them out to Dumbledore and the Ministry authorities. Bellatrix began plotting how to get past any sentries left behind, but then realized she should probably find a way to neutralize the classmates pursuing her first. She couldn't keep running forever.

Bellatrix began to examine her surroundings carefully as she ran. Eventually she came to a small stream. Though it did not carry much water, it had through time cut a path into the terrain. Quickly looking behind her to ensure that none of her pursuers had her in sight, Bellatrix jumped down to the stream bank and picked her way to a position beneath a small ledge. Realizing she'd need a decoy to keep them moving, Bellatrix scanned the bank of the river for something with which to work and found several medium sized rocks. She then transfigured them into deer and shooed them away from her position. The pursuers would undoubtedly frighten them into running. It was her hope that the movement made by the startled deer would be mistaken for her running.

She didn't have to wait long. Within less than a minute about half a dozen of her pursuers arrived at the stream. Their loud yells and lumos spells served to startle the deer into leaping across the stream and running through the wood on the other side.

"There she is!" Crabbe yelled, shooting a stunner toward a tree behind which one of the deer had dodged. "She's running scared!"

Bellatrix smirked, the adrenaline-induced action making her feel braver, though she would have preferred to laugh in Crabbe's face. This dark lord apparently had not realized quite how stupid his new followers were—or at least the leaders of his new followers.

"Go, go!" Crabbe commanded those with him.

Mindlessly, some of the students jumped across the stream and began tearing through the forest, hot on the trail of the transfigured deer. Bellatrix frowned when she realized that only a few had crossed the stream. There were still some on her side of the bank.

"Aren't you going to go?" came a voice—Bellatrix recognized it as belonging to Rabastan Lestrange.

"I was waiting for you to go," Crabbe retorted angrily.

"I'm not going," Rabastan said. "I'm going to wait for Lucius and Rodolphus to catch me up. We need to coordinate."

"Then I'd better stay and coordinate, too," Crabbe said stubbornly.

Bellatrix ground her teeth silently. Moron!

There was silence for a brief moment. "No, I think you'd better go," Rabastan said. "Those wieners won't know what to do if they do find her. Might lose their nerve, you know."

"Lose their nerve?" Crabbe questioned.

"We can't just let her get away with our secrets, idiot!"

"You mean, we're going to kill her?" Crabbe wondered.

Rabastan let out a frustrated sigh. "Only if we have to. A memory charm or Imperius will suffice. Just keep in mind that Rodolphus will be very . . . annoyed if you kill her without cause. Now, GO!"

Deciding not to continue being stubborn, Crabbe jumped across the trickling stream and huffed away through the forest, following the trail of his comrades.

At this juncture, Bellatrix began to silently consider whether taking Rabastan out of commission before Lucius and Rodolphus caught up with him might be the wisest course. He was what was keeping her pinned to her location. If she could take him down before anyone was the wiser, she could get off and back to the castle. Bellatrix strained her ears to catch a hint of where Rabastan might be standing. The occasional rustle of cloth and crackle of dead branches told her that he was pacing or walking around trying to get a better view.

Bellatrix smiled. He was nervous and jumpy. It would be easy to startle him from one direction and come at him from another. Carefully, she picked her way along the stream's bank until she could see Rabastan's dark figure by the faint moonlight. He was indeed pacing , stopping occasionally to crane his neck and try to catch a glimpse in the direction from which he seemed to expect Lucius and Rodolphus. Suddenly, Bellatrix felt the urge to giggle. Crabbe may be a coward, but so are you, Bellatrix thought.

A quick wave of Bellatrix's wand and a very dark and barely noticeable streak of light shot toward a tree opposite of her position. The streak of light hit the tree and made a loud pop. Rabastan immediately spun toward the sound, wand drawn. Bellatrix wasted no time. A reducto zoomed toward Rabastan's back. Suddenly though, a voice screamed. "Rabastan! Behind you! Duck!"

Rabastan spun, but it was too late. The spell caught him in the shoulder with a sickening crunch and bit of splat before knocking him to the ground. If Bellatrix was any judge of injuries, Rabastan wouldn't be getting up soon—not without medical help.

Bellatrix had just enough time to register that the one who had shouted the warning was Rodolphus Lestrange before she dodged a pair of stunners from him and Lucius who was not far behind his comrade. The stunners had been shot slightly apart, so her only chance was to throw herself to the ground.

"Blood traitor!" Rodolphus screamed, shooting several spells and kicking up dirt while Bellatrix rapidly cast jinxes on several points of the stream's bank. Anyone who tried to jump over would find themselves flat on their face in the muddy water.

"You may as well give yourself up, Bella," called Lucius Malfoy. "You can't escape the servants of the dark lord."

The pressure of the situation and the absurdity of Lucius's statement threw Bellatrix over the edge. She shot up and began rapidly firing spells at Lucius and Rodolphus, giggling wildly as they took shelter behind a nearby tree. She finished with several reductos toward the branches over their heads, crossed the stream, and ran downstream toward Hogwarts. Unless she missed her guess, the stream would take her to the lake. She giggled quietly as she ran along the stream, waiting to hear the distinctive splat of the two morons falling victim to her jinxes and being thrown into the river.

Bellatrix was soon rewarded, but with only one splat and grunt of disgust that she recognized as belonging to Lucius. What had happened to Rodolphus? She looked over her shoulder just in time to catch a cutting curse across her face. Gasping, she realized that Rodolphus had opted to chase her from the other side of the stream. Before she could raise her wand, her shoulder was hit with a bludgeoning curse.

"That's for my brother, whore!" Rodolphus yelled.

The blood and pain sobered Bellatrix up. No longer was this funny—not that it had been funny to begin with. She was confused, but shoved the thoughts aside in favor of firing off a wide variety of curses in Rodolphus's direction. He ducked for cover. While continuing her barrage of curses, Bellatrix checked to see that Lucius was still bogged down in the stream before trying to get up. Upon making the effort, she felt a stabbing pain in her shoulder as she tried to use it to get up. Dislocated, she moaned to herself. Bloody hell!

With a little extra effort, she managed to make it to her feet, still firing the occasional curse at Rodolphus who was hard-pressed to return fire while he was hiding. Lack of commitment, Bellatrix assessed. Still afraid to take a hit for the team. She fired a few cutting curses in Lucius's direction, and from the curse that followed, she reckoned she must have at least nicked him good.

Bellatrix resumed her flight, but moved away from the stream, taking shelter among the trees that lined its bank. Abruptly, one of the trees she had just passed exploded in purple flame. Bellatrix arched her eyebrows and she continued on, trying to avoid bumping her shoulder against tree branches. If you're going to try to do dark magic, you might as well make it worthwhile, she smirked. Her mother was a dark art fanatic, but her father and her uncle had taught her to be somewhat strategic with her magic. Consequently, Bellatrix was very familiar with the dark arts, but smart enough to realize that if a normal spell or curse could do the same thing, she shouldn't waste her energy . . . or blood. Although, the ones that required blood usually were the special ones.

Turning her head for only long enough to get a quick glance, Bellatrix saw that Lucius and Rodolphus were now pursuing her through the forest, their focus on keeping up preventing them from casting any good spells at her. Apparently, Rodolphus had crossed downstream and avoided her jinxes. Bellatrix kept running. I'll show you some real dark magic, she thought. As she ran, she reached up, still holding her wand, and snapped a twig from a tree. She transferred it to her other hand, which was limited in motion because of the dislocated shoulder. A quick wave of her wand and a whispered incantation transfigured it into a small knife.

A handful of spells on the knife rendered it into a rather crude dark object, ready for use save for the lack of blood. Bellatrix glanced behind again to confirm that they were following her before taking the next step. She slashed a shallow cut into her arm that had been rendered almost useless because of the dislocated shoulder. The knife absorbed the blood instantly.

Bellatrix grinned as she turned her full attention to the trees ahead. She would have to pick a good one if she wanted her handiwork to be as effective as possible. She spotted a rather large tree with many long branches. Perfect! Bellatrix thought smugly. She ran toward it and as she passed by its trunk, Bellatrix stabbed the dagger into the bark. The blade sunk into the trunk of tree in an unnatural manner. The tree began to creak, screaming as it were. By the time Bellatrix had cleared it by ten feet, the tree had begun to thrash its branches angrily.

Try to get past the tree and the destruction it'll cause before the magic wears off! Bellatrix thought gleefully when she heard Lucius and Rodolphus's exclamations of anger and disgust at being waylaid so. She continued running, but suddenly, her back erupted in waves of pain. It felt as if she had been stabbed several dozen times. As she fell, to the ground, Bellatrix watched several dozen icicles shoot past her and fall into the foliage ahead. Apparently one of her pursuers had tried to get in a good spell before she got too far away. Bellatrix felt liquid running down the sides from her back and reckoned that it must be both the blood and melting icicles.

Gasping, Bellatrix got to her feet, doing her best to ignore the dislocated shoulder. The tree she had stabbed with the blood dagger was still thrashing, but as she watched, it was consumed by a bout of purple fire, which blinded Bellatrix. Unable to see, but desperate to get away, Bellatrix ran, trying to listen for the sound of the stream. It didn't take her long to find the sound, though it seemed louder than she had recalled.

Her vision still re-adjusting to the dark, Bellatrix failed to notice that she was running toward a steep embankment. Abruptly, she found herself tumbling down the hill. Dispassionately, she found herself comparing the experience to the fun she and her sisters had once had rolling down the steep hill located at the park near her house. This time, however, the hill was covered with all sorts of plants that were making her downward descent rather unpleasant. She came to an abrupt stop when her lower chest and abdomen collided with a rather blunt boulder. Pain exploded in her chest as the air was knocked out of her, and Bellatrix found herself lying on the ground, too stunned to move.

As she regained her faculties, Bellatrix observed that Lucius and Rodolphus had found their way to the top of the hill. "Incendio," Bellatrix croaked, pointing her wand up the hill. The foliage on the embankment, most of which was still dead from the recent winter, caught on fire with a whoosh. Bellatrix watched with satisfaction as the entire hillside was consumed. Lucius and Malfoy would not be able to follow her for some time.

However, Bellatrix realized that the fire might capture the attention of Crabbe's group or some of the others they might have left behind. Fighting to suppress tears, Bellatrix stood painfully, cast a disillusionment charm on herself, and began to slowly make her way toward the castle. With any luck, the fire would distract the majority of her classmates and they would not be alert enough to realize that she was probably walking away from the fire toward Hogwarts.

~!~!~!~!~!

When Harry returned to his quarters, he rummaged around and found a bottle of firewhiskey. With a sigh, he dropped himself in an armchair and poured himself a tall glass. I guess I've screwed it up, he decided morosely. Voldemort is going to be after me specifically now.

Not wanting to feel sorry for himself, Harry jumped, or lurched, from the chair and walked over to his bathroom and studied his reflection in the mirror. Apparently he'd cut up his face pretty good when escaping through the hole he had blasted in the side of Voldemort's house. He set down his glass of firewhiskey on the sink counter and washed up as best he could without taking a full shower.

He was just trying to decide whether he wanted to look at where he'd gotten cut on his torso when the door to his quarters opened and Bellatrix limped in. Harry glanced at her briefly and turned back to the mirror, but he spun around almost immediately after that and took a second-glance. "What happened?" he asked, quite shocked at the condition she was in. He saw that her face was covered with blood, her left shoulder sat at an odd angle, and that she seemed to have a very difficult time standing.

"They figured I was spying," Bellatrix slurred. "Barely got away."

Harry sighed. Apparently they'd both been stupid and had paid the consequence to varying degrees. "We'd better get you up to the hospital wing," Harry mused.

Bellatrix seemed to consider this proposition for a moment. "Not yet," she said slowly, still slightly slurring her words. "It's complicated. Find some medical supplies. I'll clean up."

Harry winced, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of not taking Bellatrix to the hospital wing. On the other hand, he too had encountered situations where he had not wanted to go to the hospital wing. Bellatrix's judgment could probably be trusted—she wasn't a fool.

"Okay," he said, making for the door. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Harry," Bellatrix called weakly.

"Yes," Harry asked.

"My ribs really hurt. Better make sure to get some tape."

Harry winced and swiftly left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He had encountered rib injuries in his time, and they weren't fun. Remarkably, he was able to find most of the things he needed without having to visit the hospital wing. He had planned on the potions she'd need to be most difficult, but as school potions master, it turned out that Harry had access to a wide variety of brewed potions.

He returned to his quarters and found Bellatrix standing in front of the bathroom mirror, aimlessly trying to wipe her face with a wet rag. Harry set down the things he had gathered on a table and swiftly walked over to help her. "Here, let me," he said, taking the rag from her. In short order, her face was clean, save for the cut inflicted by a spell. He was able to take care of that with little difficulty. She seemed inordinately pleased with her clean face and beamed at Harry's reflection in the mirror. "You're wonderful!" she slurred.

Harry frowned. "You're acting drunk," he muttered. Harry remembered his tall glass of firewhiskey, and his eyes flitted to where he had left it. The glass was now completely empty. "You didn't waste any time," Harry commented. "I guess you're going to need it. We've got your shoulder to deal with."

Bellatrix stared at herself in the mirror while Harry gingerly took hold of Bellatrix's shoulder. "All right, we'll try to make this quick," Harry announced loudly. She didn't seem to notice, so Harry took that as a good sign. When he yanked and popped the shoulder back into its socket, Bellatrix gasped loudly and nearly fell over, though was caught by Harry.

She managed to recover her balance and leaned back toward the mirror, staring at Harry's reflection. Apparently she had confused his reflection for the real thing. "My ribs," she slurred. "Tape them up good."

She lifted her hands and began fumbling with the buttons of her tattered blouse. Harry sighed and returned to the table where he had left the medical tape. He'd had his ribs taped up before, but he had never tried to help someone else with it. By the time he returned with the tape, Bellatrix had managed to undo only two buttons. Feeling rather like a cad, Harry set the tape down on the counter, reached around her, and unbuttoned the other buttons. He then helped her remove the shirt. Normally, he reckoned he would have ended up staring at her bra-clad chest, but apparently, she had been injured on her back. It was a bloody mess—literally.

"Looks like they nailed you from behind," Harry commented, feeling a little faint.

"My back too," Bellatrix said.

"Right," Harry said. He grabbed the rag and began mopping at it, wincing all the while. In short order, it was free of blood. Harry grabbed some ointment from the table and applied it to her back liberally after performing the best healing charms he could think of.

"Now your ribs," Harry said.

"Yep." Bellatrix said.

Harry could tell that she was losing her last strength and so tried to make the ribs quick. It appeared that she had only been hit lower-down, so not very many ribs were in bad shape. With a little bit of coaxing on his part and her gracious acquiescence to his requests, Harry was soon done. "Well," Harry said, "you're right as rain, now."

"Yep," she repeated, staring intently at Harry's reflection with an odd expression on her face.

Harry decided that he'd better put her to bed in his quarters. If she had had a falling out with Slytherin students, sending her to her dorm would probably be a bad idea. It would cause a school scandal if anyone found out, but Harry reckoned he might be able to head it off by contacting Orion early in the morning and explaining the situation.

Leaving Bellatrix to stare at herself in the mirror, Harry went to his clothes closet and found a spare set of pajama tops. He returned to Bellatrix and put them on her. He then managed to get her to down doses of several different potions before leading her to his bed. "Time for you to sleep," Harry said.

Bellatrix crawled into Harry's bed and Harry draped the covers over her, smiling awkwardly as she stared up into his eyes.

"Good night," Harry said.

Bellatrix smiled and continued staring up at him, her violet eyes shining.

"Right," Harry said, breaking contact with her eyes, leaving her, and returning to his chair. He felt guilty for not changing her completely into pajamas, but he reckoned he's already gone pretty far. She can complain later, Harry reckoned. Maybe even take care of the situation herself by that time.

He considered pouring himself another glass of the firewhiskey, but decided against it. One of them was going to need to retain control of their senses. Harry glanced toward the sink counter and the empty firewhiskey glass. Could that much make her that drunk so quickly? He sighed. Apparently. Maybe she was in shock, too.

Harry sat back and returned to contemplating the situation. What are we to do now?

~!~!~!~!

Upon awaking, Bellatrix discovered her uncle Orion standing next to the bed looking down at her. Disorientated, Bellatrix quickly took in her surroundings. Seeing that she was in Professor Ashworth's bed abruptly reminded her of the past night's events—that and dull pain in her abdomen. She gulped, suddenly very embarrassed to have Orion Black present. "Good morning," she said brightly.

"It's good afternoon," Orion said shortly. He sighed and sat down on a chair that had been placed next to the bed. "Mr. Ashworth contacted me about your escapade last night." The elder Black shifted his head and gestured toward Harry, who was also sitting in a chair, but across the room.

Bellatrix shot Harry a dirty look. "What does he know about my escapade?"

"He knows enough," Orion retorted. "Don't you realize that you could have gotten yourself killed?"

"Oh please," Bellatrix said, folding her arms. She knew that the situation had been serious, but she wasn't about to admit it to anyone else but Harry. "I'm fine."

"Fine, is it?" Orion growled. He turned toward Harry who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "How many ribs did you think might be cracked, or worse? How much tape did you have to put on? What about her back?"

"It was pretty bad," Harry said, blushing.

Bellatrix scowled at Harry. The traitor! How dare he run to her family and tell them about her medical problems! This thought caused Bellatrix to blush as the events of Harry having to patch her up and put her to bed surfaced in her memory. She glanced down at her torso and discovered that she was wearing an unfamiliar pajama top. It probably belonged to Harry. Deciding that the embarrassment should belong to Harry, Bellatrix glanced up at him, made eye contact, and winked.

Harry's blush deepened while Orion let out a very put upon sigh. "From now on, Bellatrix, you shall not participate in such activities. If Mr. Ashworth tells you not to do something, you will obey him as if he was me."

"You're not my father!" Bellatrix declared.

"Don't even get me started on that," Orion thundered. "If your father so much as suspected how close you came to being killed, he would withdraw you from Hogwarts. As it is, he only knows that you had a minor problem with some aspiring followers of the dark lord. Do you want me to bring him into this?"

"No, please," Bellatrix said, feeling suddenly grateful to her uncle. She had no desire to leave Hogwarts, at least as long as Harry Ashworth was puttering around the place pursuing his crusade against Voldemort.

"Good," Orion said. "As I said, Mr. Ashworth is the boss when you're beyond my and your father's reach. I have also made other arrangements with regard to your protection."

"Arrangements?" Bellatrix asked.

"In case you failed to notice, the aspiring dark wizards and witches were students at this school. They will probably wish to harm you." Orion said.

"I happen to know which ones are after me," Bellatrix said. "Can't we just have them locked up?"

"Let me guess," Orion said, pretending to be thoughtful. "Lucius Malfoy, the Lestrange brothers, and assorted Crabbes and Goyles—among others."

"How did you know?" Bellatrix asked, surprised.

Orion smiled shrewdly. "They realized that you had escaped back to the castle and have fled Hogwarts. Old Dumbledore was pretty surprised. Their disappearance was not detected until I showed up."

"Dumbledore knows?" Bellatrix asked.

Orion sighed. "How could he not? Even if I had been able to borrow your father's soon-to-be authority to move against those fools, I would have had to explain to Dumbledore. As it is, Dumbledore doesn't know everything that went on. Malfoy, the Lestranges, et al., have made it easier on us by fleeing. Since they're not here to explain themselves, Ashworth and I were free to emphasize or play down the occurrences we chose. The bottom line is that Dumbledore now knows that you came dangerously close to getting mixed up in some sort dark organization and nearly got killed. He will cooperate with us in protecting you from retribution."

"Retribution from who, exactly?" Bellatrix asked. "It sounds like the wizards who tried to kill me have departed."

"Unless you're capable of naming every student that was present last night, we're going to assume that you're in minor danger. Tom won't appreciate the fact that someone set against him is cognizant of his activities." Orion explained.

Bellatrix sighed. "I guess you're right. What is the old man going to do to help protect me?"

"You're going to take up residence in Gryffindor Tower," Orion informed Bellatrix.

She gasped. "Gryffindor Tower! That's awfully extreme."

"The Gryffindors are somewhat idiotic at times," Orion said, "but they don't often have dark tendencies. Furthermore, your cousin Sirius is a Gryffindor. I'm going to assign him to keep an eye on you when Mr. Ashworth can't."

"He's a fourth year!"

"So?"

"I'm a sixth year. I don't need protection from some little snot."

"The little snot happens to be my son."

Bellatrix ignored that she had potentially insulted Orion and pushed her argument. "You say that the whole purpose of getting Sirius involved is to protect me when Ashworth can't. Why not arrange for Ashworth to be able to take care of me? Dumbledore could set up another bedroom in here."

Orion glared at her, but his glare was soon replaced with a mask of indifference. He turned to Harry. "Say, Mr. Ashworth, why don't you run up to the hospital wing and inform the good nurse that Bellatrix will shortly be up for some minor treatment? After that, why don't you head over to that pub we discussed? Tell Cygnus and Romulus that I'll follow shortly."

Harry nodded, looking vaguely relieved to escape. "Of course," he said. Within a few seconds, he had departed from his living quarters.

As soon as he was gone, Orion rounded on Bellatrix. "Relationships between students and teachers are frowned upon, Bellatrix."

"I wasn't suggesting a romantic relationship," Bellatrix said.

"I'm not stupid, Bellatrix."

"Mr. Ashworth is entirely honorable. He would never prey upon an impressionable female student."

Orion shook his head. "You would prey on him, though."

"Are you suggesting that I molest professors?"

"Bellatrix," Orion ground out, "your behavior has already been inappropriate. Professor Dumbledore brought the issue up with me this morning. He and Professor McGonagall have observed that you spend every minute of your free time in Ashworth's office or living quarters. The entire school is talking about it."

"Busybodies!" Bellatrix spat out.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're apparently becoming very close to Harry Ashworth," Orion said. "Perhaps too close."

"I'm seventeen, Bellatrix said. "I'll do what I want."

Orion was silent for a long while. Bellatrix did her best to ignore him. Finally, Orion found something to say. "What do you know about Harry Ashworth, Bellatrix? Why do you trust him implicitly? Why are you so insistent at throwing yourself on him?"

Bellatrix looked away from Orion and refused to answer.

"You've already given him your loyalty, haven't you?" Orion said tiredly. "Whatever he's told you has you sold."

"I have every confidence that Harry Ashworth will one day be a wizard of astounding power and influence," Bellatrix said quietly.

"Is that the only reason you've set your loyalty for him?" Orion asked gently.

"I guess he's pretty nice," Bellatrix admitted. "Kind of handsome, too. Very companionable, anyway. I could have chosen worse."

"I suppose you could have," Orion admitted. "Look, Bellatrix. I can't say that I approve of your methods of choosing a husband, but I can't deny that you seem to have chosen moderately well. Perhaps we can come to a compromise. We can talk to Ashworth about a marriage contract. You can marry him straight after your seventh year—assuming you still feel the same."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow, but didn't reply.

"If we did follow that path, there is an issue about which I am curious," Orion said slowly.

"Who said we're following that path?" Bellatrix asked.

"Just hypothetically," Orion said. "Ashworth has admitted that he isn't an Ashworth—that you picked the name."

"So?"

"I was wondering if you planned on becoming Bellatrix Ashworth." Orion said.

"You want to know his real surname," Bellatrix snickered. "Nice try."

"Do you know his real surname?" Orion asked.

"No. However, circumstances are such that if I married him, I could probably twist him into taking my surname. We could be Harry and Bellatrix Black." Bellatrix was thinking back onto the day when Harry had appeared in the Black vault. He may not be a Black, but he certainly was already tied closely enough to the family that it would be reasonable to have him become a Black officially.

"I'm afraid you've confused me," Orion said.

"Good."

"Put on your clothes," Orion directed, deciding to give up the point of his discussion. "We've got an appointment with the nurse, and after that, we'll be seeing Professor McGonagall."

~!~!~!~!~!

The Marauders were all sitting in Gryffindor Tower when the portrait hole opened to reveal Professor McGonagall. She entered, followed closely by Bellatrix and Orion Black.

"Sirius!" James whispered. "Isn't that your father?"

Sirius looked over and gaped at the sight. "What's going on?" he muttered as they watched McGonagall lead Bellatrix up the staircase to the girl dorms.

"I think she might be moving in," Remus observed.

"Don't be ridiculous," James scoffed. "They'd never let a Slytherin in here!"

Further speculation ended when Orion Black approached the group. "Sirius," he said, "I want a word with you."

"Here I am, then," Sirius said, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Alone," Orion amended. "Come."

Sirius traded significant glances with his friends. They all knew that Sirius and his family didn't get along well. Not only did they disagree about blood purity, but Sirius was simply an obnoxious child. For Orion to seek him out, the situation must be grave. Sirius stood and led his father over to a quiet corner of the common room.

"All right, what the matter?" he asked.

Orion drew his wand and cast silencing charms. "Sirius, your cousin Bellatrix was nearly killed last night."

Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What'd she do? Sneak out to the Forbidden Forest and pick a fight with the centaurs?"

"No, she snuck out to the Forbidden Forest and was assaulted by dark wizards," Orion explained.

"The centaurs was more believable," Sirius said.

"Look, Sirius, this is a very . . . grim situation," Orion said.

Sirius grinned evilly. "What, the situation isn't serious?"

"This isn't the time for your stupid name games," Orion hissed. "What I'm about to tell you is to be kept secret, do you understand?"

"I guess," Sirius said.

Orion grumbled to himself before beginning. "Sirius, there is a new dark lord on the rise."

Sirius's eyes widened with shock. "A real dark lord?"

"So it would seem," Orion replied. "Professor Ashworth and Bellatrix have been attempting to sabotage his rise to power. Last night, Bellatrix attempted to infiltrate a group of students that have pledged themselves to the dark lord. Her ulterior motives were discovered and she was brutally chased through the Forbidden Forest."

"So what are we going to do now?" Sirius asked, shocked enough that he had forgotten his contempt for his father.

"The ringleaders have left Hogwarts. However, I'm concerned that certain Slytherins might have it in for her. Professor Dumbledore has agreed to move Bellatrix into Gryffindor Tower. Obviously, Professor Ashworth will do his best to look out for her, but I want you to keep an eye out, too."

"What do you expect me to do?" Sirius asked. "It's not like I can face down dark wizards."

"I think you underestimate your abilities greatly," Orion said. "The amount of trouble you get into on a weekly basis suggests that you have plenty of ingenuity. Stick to her when you can. I expect you to watch her in this tower and I expect you to sit with her at meals."

"She'll sit with us," Sirius said. "I refuse to go to the Slytherin table!"

"That's what I meant," Orion said smoothly. "If she decides to do something risky, find Professor Ashworth and tell him. Will you do that?"

"I guess," Sirius answered, feeling slightly stunned.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lily was perusing her potions text when the door to her dorm opened to admit Professor McGonagall. Instantly, Lily sat up. "Professor, an extra bed appeared in our dorm this morning," Lily began, but was cut short when she saw Bellatrix Black enter the room behind McGonagall.

"Yes," McGonagall said stiffly. "It has become necessary to find Miss Black alternate accommodations in the castle. It has been decided that this will be her dorm for the time being."

Lily's mouth sagged, but she quickly recovered herself. "But professor, Bellatrix is in sixth year!"

"I'm well aware of that, Ms. Evans. Your dorm is the only one that has space for an extra, however. Do try to make her feel at home," Professor McGonagall said. She turned to Bellatrix. "That's your bed. The house elves will arrange for everything to be transported shortly."

"Thank you, Professor," Bellatrix said as McGonagall turned and left.

Lily stared at Bellatrix, her facial expression showing a mixture of confusion and suspiciousness. Bellatrix did nothing but coolly arch her eyebrows at Lily and depart from the dorm room.

17. Active Propositions

A/N: Thanks for your reviews.

Chapter 16

By

Lord Silvere

"Are we then all agreed?" Orion asked quietly, but forcefully, as he surveyed Cygnus Black, Romulus Malfoy, and Harry Ashworth across the table. The four were seated around a large banquet table located in a private dining room. The innkeeper, whose obscure Welsh pub had been selected by Orion for the meeting, had graciously allowed the small party to occupy his large dining room during the afternoon hours.

Harry quickly nodded, though he felt incredibly nervous. They had been discussing how the Ministry, under the direction of Cygnus Black, could best cope with Voldemort and his followers. Harry did not feel qualified to be involved in such a discussion, but he had done his best to provide the wisest counsel he could. He of all people knew what was at stake.

Orion accepted Harry's nod as if it had been expected. He then turned his attention to his brother. "Cygnus?"

"It sounds all right, Orion," the Minister-elect said quietly. "It's just that . . . I don't feel prepared to shoulder this responsibility. Surely Professor Dumbledore is qualified. Perhaps I should step down and suggest that Dumbledore be installed as Minister."

Orion was already shaking his head. "Professor Dumbledore has always shunned a direct involvement in politics. Furthermore, the movement against Tom needs to be moderate. You are in the best position to do what needs to be done. We have already talked about all of that."

Harry suppressed a sigh. Perhaps Cygnus had not been the best choice for Minister. Orion would have been far more competent, though he had not had a good chance to be elected. They had spent just as much time bolstering the self-esteem of Cygnus as they had spent on making plans to stop Voldemort.

"All right, let's do it," Cygnus said, sounding very confident, though Harry knew how unconfident he truly was.

Orion smiled at his brother and then looked down the table at Romulus. The Malfoy patriarch was distractedly sipping on his fifth glass of firewhiskey. "Romulus? Are we agreed?"

There was no answer.

"Romulus!"

Romulus looked toward the other three. "Yes, yes. It's what must be done, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Orion said.

"Of course," Romulus muttered, again focusing his attention on his private thoughts.

"Good," Orion said. "Cygnus, I'm sure you have important business to which you need to attend, so we'll disperse."

Cygnus nodded and stood. "I'll let you know how things stand with the department heads, Orion. If things are not well, I'll need your help."

"Of course," Orion said.

As soon as Cygnus had apparated away, Orion took Harry by the shoulder. "We need to have a few words, Mr. Ashworth." He glanced at Romulus. "But perhaps the hall outside this room would be best. I think Romulus needs some time alone."

The two made their way out of the room and into the cramped hall that connected to the main taproom of the inn. Orion drew his wand and performed a number of spells to ensure their privacy. "Now, Mr. Ashworth, as you will have noted earlier, we will likely need you to assume a position of minor authority in the Ministry come summer. If Professor Slughorn makes a recovery prior to the beginning of the fall term at Hogwarts, that position may become somewhat long-term."

"Okay," said Harry.

"It will be hard for the Ministry to employ you with forged, Australian identity documents."

"What do you suggest I do, then?" Harry asked.

"Hand over the forged documents to me, and I'll arrange for British versions to be officially forged for you," Orion said.

"How about I give you the necessary information, and I keep the forged documents?" Harry asked.

Orion smiled faintly. "Clever. I suppose that will be all right, Ashworth."

"I'll send you an owl, then," Harry said. "Was that all?"

"No, Mr. Ashworth. I must know some things about you."

"Oh?"

"Do you have romantic feelings for Bellatrix?" Orion asked.

Harry smiled. "I can't really say that I do," he said.

"Why not?"

Harry shrugged, trying to find a way to explain how he felt. His memories of the older, evil Bellatrix had predisposed him against romance with her, though time with the teenage Bellatrix had worn down his horror at the thought. Now, it was just that he didn't regard her as a potential romantic partner. His mind finally landed on a suitable reply. "Well, she's a student, isn't she?" Harry said. "All I can say is that I haven't looked at Bellatrix from a romantic perspective." That should do it, Harry thought.

"What happens when she leaves Hogwarts?" Orion asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"Not only will she be fair game, Mr. Ashworth, but she will undoubtedly be following you around. You won't get rid of her easily, my young friend." Orion said.

"I suppose you're right," Harry said. "I have a hard time seeing my future completely devoid of acquaintance with Bellatrix." It was true. As long as the dispute with Voldemort continued, he would be drawing on her for support, and vice-versa. And then, theoretically, if the dispute were to end quickly, who would be around for Harry to hang around with? Bellatrix. Maybe the patriarchs, but what would he talk about with them? Harry didn't know anyone else—or at least no one knew Harry very well. Maybe I ought to start expanding my circle of friends, Harry thought.

"I'm sure that in the place from where you originate, wherever that may be, you are accustomed to a more modern view of certain social interactions, Ashworth." Orion said slowly. "However, have you ever considered an arranged marriage?"

"Err, no," said Harry. "Not really."

"It is old-fashioned," Orion admitted. "However, think about it. You've already admitted that you see yourself and Bellatrix maintaining your acquaintance for quite some time. Bellatrix certainly seems to have attached herself to you. Thus, the distasteful part of an arranged marriage is eliminated. We could come to an agreement that gives you the opportunity to marry into the Black family and gain a legitimate surname and place in society. A marriage contract would be profitable."

"These things are true," said Harry very diplomatically, "but I think it might be too early to make such an arrangement. "She has more than a year of school left."

Orion smiled. "I'd be concerned if you had jumped too eagerly. Perhaps you are a better match for Bellatrix than I am able to know. We can talk of this some other time."

"Whatever you say," Harry said, displaying a relieved smile.

"As I said earlier back in your apartments, Mr. Ashworth," Orion continued, "you are to be the authority at Hogwarts. If you tell Bellatrix to do or not do something, you should expect to be obeyed as if you were me. I don't need her doing something rash and getting herself killed. Aside from that, you know your role in this whole campaign against Voldemort. Try to sniff out other students the dark lord has recruited or may consider for recruitment. Either exploit them as best you can for our purposes or try to get them out of the mess. Some of them may not be past redemption, though the number may be fewer than we'd all prefer." Unconsciously, he glanced back toward the room where Romulus Malfoy was still drowning himself in spirits.

"Right," said Harry. "I'll carry on and wait to hear from you."

"Good," said Orion, holding up his wand. "Don't forget to owl me your personal information. Also be sure to keep an eye on Dumbledore. If he figures out that Tom is on the loose, he'll undoubtedly begin his own campaign. It would be useful if we could coordinate our efforts without having a direct, official connection." He then disapparated, leaving Harry standing alone in the hall outside of the private dining room.

Harry stood there, wondering which of his assignments was more important to Orion. Babysitting potential Death Eater candidates or keeping Orion apprised of Dumbledore's actions? If Harry had learned one thing from Orion Black, it was that politics was a subtle art. Harry looked back toward the dining room. Romulus had been out of sorts since he had learned that his son was pretty much a confirmed Death Eater. Harry didn't know what to do. What was one supposed to say to such a parent? Sorry, about your son joining a terrorist organization. Let me know if I can be of help. That didn't seem very comforting.

Feeling like he should at least not leave Romulus alone, Harry walked back into the room and sat down, grabbing a spare tumbler. "Pour me one?" he asked Romulus.

Silently, Romulus picked up the bottle of firewhiskey provided by the innkeeper and poured Harry a glass, his hand trembling ever so slightly. Harry sat and sipped the firewhiskey, thinking about the Voldemort situation, and ironically, even his upcoming classes. Homework still had to be assigned and marked, after all.

"The fool!" Romulus barked. "Silly fool!"

"Sorry?" Harry asked even though he knew about whom Romulus was speaking. It was just that Harry didn't know how else to reply.

"What did he think a dark lord could give him?"

"Glory and power, I imagine," Harry offered.

"No follower of a dark lord has power or glory," Romulus scowled. "If that ghost of a professor could teach history, maybe more people would know that."

"I guess," Harry said, reflecting on his own experiences as a student of Professor Binns. It was true that the professor had never really taught about dark lords—at least not about dark lords who weren't involved in goblin rebellions.

"Lucius will ruin the Malfoy name," Romulus whispered. "He'll pour our money into the dark lord's frivolous pursuits, make my manor the dark lord's, and risk the lives of my family in the dark lord's war."

"How fortunate that you control the Malfoy fortune and assets," Harry said. "It doesn't have to be unless you allow it."

Romulus nodded. "You speak truth, Harry. I am Lord Malfoy and the House of Malfoy will not bend knee to the dark lord. Not while I am alive, anyway."

"Problem solved," said Harry, trying to sound cheerful, but not overly so. "Eventually, Lucius may learn the error of his ways and stop following the dark lord."

"It may already be too late for that," Romulus sighed.

Harry did not really want to say it aloud, but secretly, he agreed.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Are you sure the map says she's alone in there?" Sirius asked for the fourth time.

"Yes," James sighed. "She's alone."

"It's just that it wasn't so long ago that your map was saying that we were sitting next to people in the loo when we were actually in the Great Hall," Sirius pointed out.

"Well," said James, "if the map is previously known for saying that there are more people in a room than there actually are, maybe we should be worried she's not in there at all."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly, we followed her and watched her go in there. It's the only way in or out."

"That's not the point, Sirius," James said.

"Whatever."

"What does it matter whether she's alone in there?" James asked. "Is your father suspicious that she and Professor Ashworth are, um, you know?"

"No, no," Sirius said, focusing intently on the door to Professor Ashworth's private chambers. "If it turns out he's in there with her, we can go and not be worried."

"That makes no sense," James complained. "I'm not one to talk, but really, those two seem too close for a student and professor. It seems like your father should be worried about that sort of thing."

"No, this is serious," said Sirius.

"No, you're Sirius, Sirius," James punned.

"Oh shut up," Sirius grumbled. "Bellatrix is in danger, apparently. My dad said that I have to keep an eye on her when Professor Ashworth isn't."

"Wait, so Professor Ashworth is protecting your cousin? From what?"

Sirius looked around before answering in a whisper. "A dark lord."

James gasped. "No way."

Sirius nodded. "Apparently there's a new dark lord."

"Why is the dark lord after your cousin then?" James inquired.

Sirius shrugged, "Apparently she and Professor Ashworth have been fighting this dark lord. Last night, she wandered off and a bunch of his followers nearly killed her. That's why she's been moved to Gryffindor Tower, and that's why I dragged you down here when I saw her leave her dorm."

"I knew that Ashworth guy seemed strange," James observed. "Obviously, he's a spy planted by your father. I bet he doesn't even know anything about potions."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius scoffed.

"Just think about it," James argued. "Things have been off for several months. Several months ago Professor Ashworth was appointed to the staff. Then he started having those dinners and being overly friendly with the students. Then, we saw him and Bellatrix wandering around at night on the map."

"Maybe," Sirius said, rubbing his chin. "But wasn't it Malfoy who twisted people's arms to get Ashworth on the staff?"

"Maybe your father and Malfoy are in this together," James theorized.

"So why, in Merlin's name, are the Black and Malfoy families combining against a dark lord?" Sirius asked. "We're supposed to support dark lords. Pureblood politics and all that."

"Maybe this dark lord is from the wrong political faction?" James suggested.

"Yeah, right," Sirius said.

"We should talk to Ashworth about this dark lord. Maybe he can get us in on the ground level fighting him." James said, sounding excited.

Sirius looked at James with an arched eyebrow. "Why do we want to get involved in a fight with a dark lord?"

"Well, if we want to be aurors, we could count it as experience," James said.

"You're mental. I bet you just want to impress Lily."

There was some silence.

"I thought so," said Sirius.

"Isn't fighting dark lords a good thing?" James asked.

"Depends on how likely you are to get killed," Sirius mused.

They were interrupted from further musings by the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Soon, Professor Ashworth came into sight.

"Let's get out of here," Sirius muttered. "Looks like he's got her covered for now."

However, James had other plans. Before Sirius could realize what was happening, James had approached Professor Ashworth."

"Good to see you, Professor," said James.

"Eh, good to see you," replied Harry. "How are you?"

"Doing great," said James. "I just want you to know that you can count on Sirius and me for any help that you need in the upcoming difficulties. We'll make sure Bellatrix is safe, too."

Harry stared at James with confusion. "Sorry?"

Sirius jumped in and saved his friend. "Don't worry, Professor. We've got you covered. See ya 'round." He grabbed James's arm and dragged him away.

~!~!~!~!~

Harry stared at the retreating backs of his future father and godfather. What did they know? How much had Orion told Sirius and how much had Sirius told James? Probably everything he knew—and a little more besides. Shaking his head, Harry continued to his chambers and opened the door, letting himself in. He paused after shutting the door behind him to scan the room. Bellatrix was lying on the couch, apparently asleep. Deciding that Bellatrix probably needed all the sleep she could get, Harry opted not to disturb her.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked, surprising Harry. Apparently she was only lying on the couch with her eyes shut, or perhaps had been dozing only lightly.

"Well enough," said Harry. "Orion and Cygnus seem to know what they're doing. They seem to have some good plans to start on once your father's becoming Minister is official."

"What about us?" Bellatrix asked. "What are we going to be doing?"

"Not too much," Harry admitted. "At least, not so much until the term ends here. Mostly, we're going to keep an eye out for any further recruitment among the student body. We'll also let your uncle know about Professor Dumbledore's activities."

"I guess that makes us spies," Bellatrix observed as she opened her eyes and sat up on the couch. "What happens during the summer?"

"Life will get more interesting," Harry said, "at least for me. Orion has plans, and of course, I'll be free to pursue some of my own plans. I don't know what plans your family has for you."

"It doesn't matter what plans they have for me," Bellatrix retorted. "I'm seventeen. That means I can make my own plans for the summer."

"Indeed," said Harry as he sat next to her on the couch. "You can make your own plans, but should you?"

Bellatrix chose to ignore that comment. "If you're not invited to move in with my family or my uncle's family, I'm inclined to move in with you."

Harry wasn't sure how much he liked that idea. It was true that Bellatrix spent a great deal of time in his personal living quarters, but becoming roommates sounded a little too intimate for him. Fortunately, though, Harry had a way to dodge the proposal. "I don't really have a place for you or me to move into."

"I guess we'll have to hope that you get invited to live with us," Bellatrix said. "Though, it isn't all that hard to find a flat for the right price."

There was a moment of silence before Bellatrix continued the conversation. "Did my uncle speak to you about anything else?"

Harry's mind flashed back to the conversation about an arranged marriage. However, he wasn't about to bring that up with Bellatrix. "The fight against Voldemort was pretty much it."

"Really? That was all? He didn't ask about anything else?" Bellatrix inquired.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Do you know if your uncle has told your cousin Sirius very much about this fight?"

Bellatrix wasn't pleased with the change of topic, but she was also curious enough to find out why Harry would bring up Sirius. "I think he told him enough about why he's supposed to be my bodyguard," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, he and James Potter were waiting for me outside the door there. They assured me that I had their support in the coming 'difficulties,'" Harry told Bellatrix.

"Oh great," Bellatrix grumbled. "Uncle Orion probably told Sirius too much, not realizing that the twerp tells James Potter everything. Those other two creeps probably know everything, too."

"Interesting," said Harry.

"I think a memory charm is in order," Bellatrix said. "How good are you at those?"

"I don't think we need to memory charm anybody," said Harry, obscurely defending his father and his friends from Bellatrix's enthusiasm. "Besides, they could be useful."

"Maybe," Bellatrix grumbled.

"It's nearly time for dinner," Harry observed. "Why don't you head down to the Great Hall? We can catch up later."

~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix strode into the Great Hall just as dinner was served. Out of habit, she made her way toward the Slytherin table before remembering that she was now residing with Gryffindor House. Casually correcting herself, she made her way to the Gryffindor table and assumed a seat next to her cousin Sirius.

"Fancy meeting you here," Sirius said with a smirk on his face.

"Shut it or I'll hex you," Bellatrix growled. It wasn't so much her cousin's behavior that was irking her. It was the looks she was receiving from the students of Slytherin House. They were shocked that Bellatrix Black was sitting at the Gryffindor table. Even Bellatrix's sister Narcissa seemed surprised at the move. Apparently, Orion had not spoken to her. Bellatrix's other sister, Andromeda, was nowhere to be seen. Orion had probably not spoken to her either, though her reaction would have been the same either way. Andromeda had ceased from caring about Bellatrix and Narcissa's social life long ago.

James Potter, seated on the other side of Sirius, leaned forward and got Bellatrix's attention. "We're ready to help you and Professor Ashworth," he said.

"Pray tell," Bellatrix said snidely, "what did you have in mind?"

"I was hoping you'd tell us," James said, trying to maintain his dignity.

"Practice up on your killing curse," Bellatrix said sarcastically. "Next time Ashworth and I go out, we'll take you along. We might bag a few dark followers."

"You don't need to be so snippy about it," Sirius said. "James is only trying to be helpful. Right, James?"

"Yeah, helpful," James confirmed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Well, I'll let you know when I need help."

"Actually," James said pompously, "your uncle already told Sirius that you need your back watched. We'll do that gladly. We're also interested in helping you and Professor Ashworth together."

"Great," said Bellatrix, "I'll let you know when both I and Ashworth need help. Happy?"

"I guess," said James. "It's just that—"

Bellatrix held up her hand. "Be quiet. I want to eat."

Silenced reigned between the three for the duration of the meal, though Bellatrix's ire continually grew. It wasn't directed at James or Sirius, however. The whisperings of the Slytherins as they looked and pointed out Bellatrix made her angry. A twisted sort of paranoia overcame Bellatrix, and by the time the meal had nearly ended, she had concluded that they were all followers of the dark lord in training.

Bellatrix spoke up just as James and Sirius got up to leave. "I've decided that Ashworth and I need your help."

Sirius sniggered at Bellatrix's sudden change of mind, but James reacted eagerly. "Really? What can we do?"

"We're going to spy on the Slytherins and find out which ones are involved in . . . uh . . . bad business. Then we'll make their lives miserable."

Sirius, though hesitant at first to get involved, thought this sounded slightly fun. "Can we tell Remus and Peter? I'm sure they'll want to help."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Bellatrix said. "Meet me in the Gryffindor common room just after curfew. We'll draw up some plans."

~!~!~!~!~!

"I want for every witch and wizard in Britain to know that it is my goal to ensure stability in our society and government," proclaimed Cygnus Black as his echoing voice was magically amplified and carried through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. "As your Minister for Magic, I will fight to preserve what is ours from those who might usurp our rights."

Alastor Moody scowled as he stalked through the halls of the Ministry toward the main offices of Magical Law Enforcement. It wasn't necessarily the politically-motivated drivel Minister Black was spouting in his inaugural speech that annoyed Moody, it was that everyone seemed so pleased by what they were hearing. Both purebloods and muggleborns alike seemed happy with Minister Black's goals. What is stability and who might usurp our rights? he wondered.

"It won't be easy," reverberated Minister Black's voice, "but I know that with the help of each employee of the Ministry, we can maintain our goals. Thank you." Applause followed. Though not amplified, Moody could hear it coming from the main Ministry atrium in which Minister Black had delivered his speech.

Director Foxe's secretary was not at her desk—Moody had seen her in the atrium, though Andrew Foxe himself had been conspicuously absent. For that reason, Moody had come to his office to see if the Director of Magical Law Enforcement had any inside information to share.

Moody opened the door and stalked into Director Foxe's office, stopping almost immediately to stare at the disorganized condition of the office. It was strewn with half-filled boxes and rubbish bins. It appeared that Director Foxe was moving out. The man himself stood next to his window, looking down into the atrium at the crowd surrounding Minister Black.

"Andrew?" Moody asked.

Foxe turned and smiled at Moody. "You've caught me."

"What is going on? Have you been fired?" Moody demanded, wondering whether perhaps Minister Black had already chosen to take a dramatic change of course in policy.

"No," admitted Andrew. "I guess you could call it being voluntarily reassigned."

"Why does Minister Black want you gone?" Moody asked suspiciously.

Andrew rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a bottle of butterbeer. "Want one?"

"No, but thanks," Moody said, waving his hand as he watched Director Foxe open the bottle and take a swig before sitting down. Moody himself shifted some of Foxe's possessions to create space on a chair before also taking a seat. "What is Minister Black's motivation?"

Andrew didn't look at Moody for several moments, but under the auror's intense gaze, he finally broke. "Minister Black had a meeting with all of the department heads this morning," he admitted slowly. "He didn't say it outright, but it would appear that things are about to become rough for Magical Law Enforcement. I didn't sign up for such a grueling job, as it were. I explained to Minister Black that I didn't think I could continue in my present position. He kindly offered to make me ambassador to the United States Department of Magic."

"What do you mean?" Moody asked, feeling vague stirrings of nervousness.

"I mean, Alastor, that I chickened out," Andrew said with a self-deprecating smile. "I'm not prepared to lead our department through a war."

Moody's eyes widened as he physically betrayed the surprise he was feeling. "A war? But Minister Black just declared that his goal was to maintain stability!"

Andrew Foxe laughed merrily. "But that is his goal—or rather, it is Orion Black's goal. Orion is a long-term planner, Alastor. For one reason or another, Orion fears for the future of our world. He has orchestrated his brother's rise to power as his first step in safeguarding us from the threat he sees. I don't know what the threat is, Alastor, but I do know that within the hour, Minister Black will be signing executive orders to increase the size of the Auror Corps and to divert much of the Ministry budget to defense funding."

"But, why?" Moody demanded. "What is the motivation?"

Andrew Foxe shrugged. "I don't know, and I can't say I care. I'll be in America shortly. Now," he said as he stood up, "you'll have to excuse me. Davian Prewitt will be here shortly to take the reins of the department."

Moody also stood. He shook Director Foxe's hand. "We'll miss you," Moody said.

"Thanks, Alastor," Andrew said. "There are two last things I have for you." He held up a thick envelope for Alastor. "A promotion and information about Harry Ashworth."

Excited as Moody was about the promotion, he was curious about why Director Foxe would give him information on Ashworth. "What about Ashworth?"

"Minister Black signed certain documents this morning. He has essentially granted Harry Ashworth a British identity. He tried to be sneaky about it, but you can't get that sort of thing past me. It would appear that Ashworth is closely connected to the Black family after all—a spy as it were. I don't know what he has been assigned to do, however. There's not much at Hogwarts other than your friend Professor Dumbledore, and I don't think he's involved in any way, for or against, the Blacks.

"Thank you," Moody said as he took the envelope, feeling slightly bemused.

"Don't mention it—literally," Andrew Foxe said.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Davian Prewitt? How extraordinary," Dumbledore commented, leaning back and popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "I did not expect him to be appointed to such a position. On the other hand, though, I did not really expect Andrew Foxe to be removed from the DMLE."

"I can't fault Minister Black for appointing Director Prewitt," Moody admitted reluctantly. "Prewitt is bold, and it is clear that his interests are for the common good. Other than the fact that he's never been employed by the DMLE, he is the perfect candidate—almost too perfect. At least, too perfect to be appointed by a Black. I would have expected Romulus Malfoy or Vincent MacNair. Perhaps even Barty Crouch. Merlin knows he's wanted in for ages."

Dumbledore sucked on his lemon drop thoughtfully. "Perhaps this threat Orion allegedly sees is serious enough that the Blacks are putting aside some of their normal family politics. On the other hand, it may be that the Blacks and Malfoys are not in cahoots after all."

"Why do you say that?" Moody asked, casually waving off Dumbledore's offer of the lemon drop bowl.

"There was an incident over the weekend," Dumbledore explained. "Young Mr. Malfoy and the brothers Lestrange, among others, attempted to harm Bellatrix Black in the Forbidden Forest. I only learned of the incident after young Bellatrix sought aid from Professor Ashworth who in turn notified Orion Black. By the time Orion arrived in my office, the culprits in question had fled from Hogwarts. Orion probably isn't very appreciative of Romulus's son trying to hurt his niece."

Moody narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Ashworth, again."

"Indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged. "It is very clear now that Ashworth is functioning with and on behalf of the Black patriarchs."

"If he's an agent of the Blacks, why was it that Malfoy was the one to twist your arm to hire Ashworth to substitute for Slughorn?"

"An interesting question," Dumbledore said. "I don't know the answer."

Moody nodded thoughtfully. "As it happens, Andrew Foxe mentioned Harry Ashworth today."

"Oh?"

Moody withdrew several sheets of parchment from a pocket inside of his robes and held them out for Dumbledore. "Early this morning, Minister Black took the liberty to issue Mr. Ashworth identity documents—the sort of identity documents Mr. Ashworth should already possess.

Dumbledore accepted the papers and examined them. "How very curious," he said slowly.

"Sketchy is what it is," Moody grumbled.

"And yet we have no evidence that Harry Ashworth has committed or plans to commit serious crimes, Alastor," Dumbledore said. "My observations lead me to believe that he is a very reasonable young man."

"You're too trusting, Albus," Moody accused.

"That's my choice," Dumbledore retorted.

Moody watched quietly as Dumbledore finished looking over the notes Andrew Foxe had provided concerning Harry Ashworth. Upon completing this task, Dumbledore leaned back and closed his eyes. Accustomed to seeing Dumbledore think like this in moments of decision, Moody continued to wait.

Finally Dumbledore opened his eyes and leaned forward, looking at Alastor over the eyes of his half-moon spectacles. "The rising rate of crime, the incident at Hogwarts this past weekend, and the dramatic change in the Ministry lead me to believe that something very serious is happening behind the scenes. I think we need to start seeking out like-minded individuals. Perhaps as our numbers grow, we will be able to come to a greater understanding of what is happening and then do something about it."

"I know a few people," Moody volunteered.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "See if you can talk to them discreetly. I don't necessarily believe that Minister Black is on the side of wrong, but I think it would be best if we operated independently from him—at least for now."

"What about Ashworth?" Moody asked.

"Leave Ashworth to me," Dumbledore directed.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix stalked into the Room of Requirement and found Harry waiting for her in front of the fireplace. Upon hearing the door open and close, he turned around and faced her. On his face, he wore a very smug grin.

"You lied to me," Bellatrix groused.

"Did I?" Harry asked curiously.

"I wanted to know if my uncle had talked to you about anything else this past weekend," Bellatrix reminded him.

"Oh?"

"You tried to pretend that he did not while in fact, he did," Bellatrix continued.

"I guess he may have brought some other subjects up," Harry admitted.

"Like a marriage contract, for instance?" Bellatrix said tartly.

"Hey may have."

"He did."

"Oh, I think I remember, now," said Harry.

"Oh, good."

"Yeah, he pointed out that it could be profitable and said that it was a good idea," Harry said, coming clean.

"Why didn't you accept it?"

"Why should I have done so?"

"We agreed to be partners," Bellatrix said, her voice rising and becoming almost shrill.

Harry looked confused. "Yes, we are partners, but what does marriage have to do with that arrangement?"

"You should have accepted immediately," Bellatrix insisted.

"Isn't there supposed to be some sort of romantic element involved in a marriage?" Harry asked. "Most people get married because they love each other."

Bellatrix threw up her hands in disgust. "That sort of marriage is for Muggles and Muggle lovers. In this society, a marriage is an opportunity for a partnership. It would have been perfect for us."

"That's not how I view marriage," Harry argued stubbornly. "I think it should be romantically motivated."

"Well, you're a fool," Bellatrix cried, her voice breaking.

"Look, Bellatrix, we're still partners," said Harry. "We're working together, and we're making progress."

"Yeah? Well it seems like I'm the one who does all the work. I'm the one who snooped around so that we could go to that meeting with the dark lord, and I'm the one who got mauled in the forest by those recruits. The least you could have done was accept a marriage contract."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but I just don't see it that way."

Bellatrix snarled and lashed out with her fist. However, instead of her fist coming into contact with and breaking Harry's nose, it passed completely through Harry's face. It was as if Harry was a ghost, albeit a colorful one. She gasped, "What's going on?"

Harry grinned. "I finally figured out how to do that spell. I'm actually standing elsewhere in the room."

Bellatrix spun around and scanned the room, but she could see Harry nowhere. She turned back to the illusion of Harry. "Where are you?"

The Harry illusion faded away. "Right here," Harry said, directly behind her.

Bellatrix spun and lashed out with her fist. Harry had been anticipating this move on her part and blocked it.

"It's hands-only drill night," Bellatrix reminded him. "I intend to whip you soundly."

She then went to kick him in the groin, but he dodged, grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground with her own momentum. Not even stopping to feel the pain or embarrassment, Bellatrix kicked out her feet and tripped Harry, who promptly fell down. He rolled and attempted to grab her feet before she could get up, but he was too slow.

The fight continued very awkwardly as they attempted to punch, kick, or trip each other. Neither of them had participated in professional training for such fighting. To make the fight even worse, Harry's heart wasn't in the fight because he was too afraid of hurting Bellatrix. Her injuries from being chased through the forest were on his mind. He didn't want to reinjure her ribs. Thus, it was only a matter of time before a kick to the stomach left Harry flat on his back, gasping for breath.

Bellatrix jumped on top of him and put her face to his. Harry stared into her violet eyes which still were betraying her anger and disappointment over his rejection of the marriage contract. She then pushed her face against his and kissed him almost violently. The kiss lasted for quite a while, despite Harry's lack of active participation.

Finally, she ended it and stood up. "We can have all the romance you want, if you feel it's all that important in a marriage," she said. "Next time my uncle brings up the subject of a marriage contract, you'd better start negotiating the details immediately." She then stalked out of the room, leaving Harry on the floor.

Harry remained motionless on the floor until the Room of Requirement had the mercy to cause a drink to appear next to him on the floor.

18. Young Volunteers

A/N: Surprise!

Chapter 17

By

Lord Silvere

"Thank you so much for your help, Macy," Lily said as she and a fifth-year Gryffindor entered the common room. "Ancient runes has been my most difficult subject this term."

"I think you're exaggerating," Macy laughed. "You seemed to catch on pretty quick once I showed you a few of the ropes. They really should have stuck to the old textbook instead of going with the new edition."

"Definitely," Lily agreed. "Is it all right if I contact you with any other questions I might have as I do my revisions?"

"Of course," Macy said, waving her hand casually as she wandered away toward some of her friends. "See you around."

Feeling rather satisfied with herself and deserving of a good night's rest, Lily made her way to the girl's staircase. She had every intention of collapsing directly onto her bed and falling immediately asleep. Before she could quite make it, she was intercepted by James Potter.

"Hey, Lily," James said, sounding a little too enthusiastic. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, James," Lily said, looking him directly in the eyes and willing him to go away and leave her alone.

"Good day?"

"Yes."

"Uh, great," James said. "Well, ah, we, I mean, I, had a favor to ask you."

Lily narrowed her eyes and looked past James to where his friends were sitting. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were huddled over a table. It appeared that they were all studying a ratty piece of parchment that was positioned in the middle of the table. "What do you hooligans want?"

"Would you ask Bellatrix to come down and see us? I can't really go up and tell her myself," James said.

"Thank heaven for small favors," Lily muttered.

"So, will you?" James inquired.

"She's probably in bed. I wouldn't want to wake her," Lily told James. Part of her reluctance stemmed from a lack of desire to do James Potter favors. The other part of her reluctance was connected to her total lack of desire to speak with the strong-willed Black girl. Ever since her father had become Minister for Magic, she had been acting like the queen of Hogwarts—not that the attitude was particularly new for her.

"I guarantee that she's awake," James said. "Please?"

"Fine, Potter," Lily acquiesced. "If you insist."

Lily turned and made her way up the staircase. In her dorm room, she found Bellatrix staring at herself in the mirror. The sixth-year Slytherin was toying with a black hair ornament and completely ignoring the fact that Lily had entered the room. Feeling awkward, Lily cleared her throat rather loudly. "Good evening, Bellatrix. How are you?"

"Perfect," Bellatrix said, leaning toward the mirror and studying her face.

Seeing that there was to be no return salutation, Lily decided to spit out her message. "James Potter and his friends told me to tell you that they need to see you and are hoping that you'll go down to the common room."

"Okay," Bellatrix said with a put-upon sigh. Deftly, she gathered up her long hair, rolled it up into a bun, and stuck the hairpin through it. As if it were magic, Bellatrix's hair maintained its position perfectly as she stood up and made her way out of the dorm and down the stairs.

Beginning to feel very unsecure about her own hair, Lily watched Bellatrix's retreating back with suspicion. What do they want with her? Lily wondered.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix strode down the stairs and into the common room. It took only a moment for Bellatrix to spot the table where her cousin Sirius and his idiot friends were sitting huddled over something they were studying intently. With purpose, she strode over. "What do you have for me?" she asked imperiously, trying to stare over their shoulders to see what commanded their attention.

Her arrival seemed to take them by surprise. With a muttered oath, James put out his hands over a piece of parchment while Sirius turned to look at her with an insincere grin.

"Cousin!" Sirius exclaimed. "You came!"

"You sent for me," Bellatrix reminded him, somewhat acidly. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing," said Sirius. "Er, can you give us a moment?"

"If I must," Bellatrix growled, beginning to tap one of her feet on the ground.

Sirius returned to the huddle, and Bellatrix listened while the four friends had a semi-heated debate about something. Finally, they came to a conclusion. This time, both James and Sirius faced her.

James did the talking. "We've found some suspicious activity," he declared.

"You had to have a debate over whether you were going to tell me that?" Bellatrix said, sounding rather bemused. "Maybe you should have done that prior to sending for me."

"It wasn't about that," Sirius admitted. "It was about this." He grabbed the piece of parchment from the table and handed it to Bellatrix. "This is how we detected the suspicious activity."

Curiously, Bellatrix examined the parchment provided to her by Sirius. It appeared to be a map of the castle . . . with dots moving around on it. Bellatrix squinted and looked at the dots, surprised to see individual name tags. Quickly, she found the Gryffindor common room and dorms. The map accurately depicted her standing next to her cousin, his friend James, and his other two friends. Lily Evans was back in her dorm, and assorted Gryffindors were depicted as being in the common room.

Bellatrix looked up at James and Sirius. "I need one of these," she declared.

"Ah, yes. Well, it isn't quite perfected yet," James said.

"It looks good enough to me," Bellatrix said.

"Did you want us to help you spy on suspicious Slytherins or did you want us making maps of Hogwarts?" Sirius asked.

"Both."

"Well, all we got for you is suspicious Slytherins," James said. He moved to Bellatrix's side and pointed to the Forbidden Forest where there were two dots hovering near the edge of the forest. "Severus Snape and your sister Narcissa."

Bellatrix stared in consternation at the map. "What are they doing?"

"I don't know, but they went out there right after sundown and have been sitting there ever since," James said. "Anytime anyone walks by, they hide."

Remus Lupin, normally very shy around Bellatrix, decided to chime in. "I've been telling these two that there is every possibility of it being innocent romance."

"For nearly five hours, Remus? I don't think so," James declared.

Confused, Bellatrix watched her sister and Snape hover on the edge of the forest. "Five hours is a long time," she agreed. "Sirius, what do you think?"

"Snape is a slimeball," Sirius declared. "Besides, everyone knows that Narcissa is interested only in Lucius Malfoy. No one even likes Snape."

"Well, let's go down and see what's going on," Bellatrix said slowly, trying to figure out what Snape would be doing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest with her sister.

"All right," Sirius agreed quickly.

"Yeah, we can wait until a few more people go to bed and then sneak out," James agreed.

Bellatrix looked at them strangely. "Why do you have to be so sneaky? We can just leave now. If anyone asks what we're doing, we'll tell them where to go and how to do it."

Remus Lupin laughed faintly. "Your boldness is refreshing."

"Great," Bellatrix said, not all that flattered by a fourth-year's comment. "I'll fetch some of my things and meet you by the portrait hole."

~!~!~!~!~!

Lily was just undressing for bed when Bellatrix returned to the room. Not wanting to start an awkward, one-sided conversation, Lily did her best to pretend that she was completely focused on unbuttoning her blouse as Bellatrix rummaged around, produced some dark, heavy robes, and exchanged them with the standard school robes she had been wearing. Lily's curiosity was not aroused until Bellatrix produced a wand holster and strapped it to her arm. Frozen with surprise, Lily watched as Bellatrix slipped on some dragonhide boots.

Noticing that Lily's hands had frozen over the last button of her blouse, Bellatrix glared at her. "Did you have something to say, Evans?"

"No," Lily said—too quickly.

"Good," Bellatrix called as she left the room.

Quickly, Lily redid the buttons on her blouse and ran out to the dorms staircase. She descended just far enough to catch a view of the common room. Bellatrix, Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter were all exiting Gryffindor Tower through the portrait hole.

Impulsively, Lily rushed back up the stairs to her room, threw on a light cloak and some shoes, and then rushed back down to the common room. Deep down, she knew that Bellatrix was up to no good.

~!~!~!~!~!

"They're still at the edge of the forest," Peter excitedly confirmed as the Marauders and Bellatrix crept out the front of the castle.

"Keep it down," James hissed to Peter. "We don't need everyone knowing that we're out here."

Bellatrix ignored the chit-chat and issued directions. "We'll all go together and sneak up on them from the direction of the lake. We'll have to do some circling, but they won't be expecting anyone coming from that direction."

"Shouldn't we split up and take them from both sides?" James asked, drawing on his knowledge of Quidditch tactics to help him formulate strategy tactics.

"Normally, yes," Bellatrix said. "However, this isn't a full out attack. We're just going to stealthily find out what they're doing. Besides, I don't trust any of you to lead half of us competently."

"We're not children," Sirius growled.

"Could have fooled me," Bellatrix whispered snidely, already walking toward the path she had designated.

The four boys rushed to follow her, and in no time they were approaching the position that Snape and Narcissa were occupying on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Faintly, they could all hear Snape and Narcissa conversing with each other quietly, though the exact words being spoken were intelligible.

"We're going to have to get closer," Bellatrix said. "Maybe with some silencing charms on ourselves we could crawl closer."

"Let's just charge in and ask them what they're doing," Sirius suggested. "She's your sister and my cousin. What she's saying isn't entirely not our business."

"That's not the point," Bellatrix said, performing various charms on herself to prevent Narcissa and Snape from detecting her. "Who's coming with me?"

"Sirius and I are game," James said quickly. "Remus, Peter, how about you cover us from behind. Try to warn us if you see anything going on that we don't."

In short order, Bellatrix, Sirius, and James were crawling toward where Narcissa and Snape were located. As soon as they were in earshot, Bellatrix poked James and Sirius and whispered for them to stop.

Narcissa was sitting on a large rock next to what appeared to be her trunk, while Snape was patrolling around the rock, his wand drawn. "Severus," Narcissa said, "how much longer?"

"Just under an hour," Snape answered quietly.

Narcissa sighed. "Why did we have to come out here so early, then?"

"I already told you," Snape said shortly. "If anyone spotted us leaving the castle this late at night, suspicion would have been raised. You can trust me; I know what I'm doing."

Bellatrix, Sirius, and James exchanged confused looks before turning their attention back to Snape and Narcissa.

Some time passed before either of them spoke again. "Severus," Narcissa asked, "how was it that Lucius contacted you? This all seems rather strange to me."

"We have our ways," Snape said, sounding rather pompous.

Bellatrix was furious. She poked James and Sirius and gestured that they should retreat back to where they had left Remus and Peter. They did so, avoiding detection by Snape and Narcissa, and had soon returned to where they could talk in slightly louder voices.

"What's going on?" Remus asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," James admitted.

"It would appear that Lucius has arranged to meet with my sister Narcissa and then take her with him," Bellatrix said, sounding very annoyed. "Apparently, Snape is helping to engineer the meeting."

"Wait," said Sirius, "wasn't Lucius one of those Slytherins that tried to hurt you?"

"Yes," Bellatrix ground out from between clenched teeth. "It would appear that he is still trying to court my sister."

James snickered, "Maybe your father had better look into cancelling that marriage contract."

"You can hardly blame your sister," Remus interjected quietly. "Does she know all the facts of why Lucius is no longer at Hogwarts?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I'm not so much angry at the little idiot as I am at that slime ball who has the audacity to get involved with this business. Of course, I'm also angry at Lucius, but he's not here. I think the best course of action is to haul them both in to see Professor Ashworth. We can arrange for my father to deal with Narcissa, and Ashworth can take care of Snape. Maybe he'll convince Dumbledore to expel the little bugger."

"If Lucius is on his way here, maybe you could set a trap," James suggested.

Bellatrix took his suggestion under consideration. Capturing Lucius and his friends would be quite the coup. However, Bellatrix couldn't be sure which or how many friends Lucius would bring with him. There was also the matter of her sister, her cousin, and her cousin's friends. None seemed proficient enough to engage in a spellfire fight and emerge unscathed. "I don't like the odds. Too many things could go wrong." she told the Marauders. "Let's grab them and get out of here before anyone else shows up. Who knows how to do a stunner?"

The Marauders unanimously agreed that James, an aspiring auror, was the best at performing stunners. Bellatrix, wondering if a fourth-year student could really be proficient at the stunning spell, reluctantly decided that James should aim for Narcissa. Snape presented the more present danger, and Bellatrix didn't want to risk James failing on the first shot.

"Let's do it," Bellatrix said.

"Maybe the three of us could do a distraction," Sirius suggested. "It might not be strictly necessary, but it can't hurt to have a little bit more preparation on our side. Snape is annoying, but he isn't spectacularly stupid or anything."

"Can you do something that won't attract the attention of everyone in the castle?" Bellatrix asked.

"Yup," Sirius replied, grinning. "You and James go back to where you have a clear shot. We'll start our distraction in about three or four minutes." Sirius waved at Bellatrix and James and then led a thoughtful-looking Remus and a puzzled-looking Peter a little ways into the Forbidden Forest.

Bellatrix and James crept toward Snape and Narcissa with their wands drawn. They separated, James taking position in the shadow of a tree, Bellatrix crouching next to a bush. Their movement had only taken a minute, so they were left to wait another two or three minutes for the other Marauders. In the meantime, they had the opportunity to overhear more of the conversation between Snape and Narcissa.

"Severus, people don't refer to the noble heads of houses as lords anymore," Narcissa said, exhaustion evident in her voice. "It's all very outdated. Nobody calls my uncle Lord Black. And why should I be jealous of him or my cousins? My father just became the Minister of Magic this week. You can't tell me that being the noble lord of some has-been house is better than that."

"You don't understand," Snape said, sounding very sulky. "Being a pureblood means something."

"Yeah, it means you're rich," Narcissa said. "Nobody cares about poor purebloods. Haven't you noticed?"

Bellatrix thought over her sister's statement. In a way, it rang true for her. Deeper thoughts about pureblood status and how money was relevant to it were squashed as soon as Bellatrix heard a rustling in the foliage. It was coming from where they had left Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

"What's that?" Narcissa asked quickly.

"What's what?" Snape asked, drawn from his sulky reverie. He looked around.

"I thought I heard something," Narcissa told him. She pointed, "Over there."

Snape pointed his wand toward where Narcissa had directed. There was another rustling. "Who goes there?" Snape called.

"Maybe it's Lucius," Narcissa said hopefully.

"It's too early," Snape retorted, squinting in the direction of the noise.

Bellatrix too was curious about what was making the noise and she strained her neck a little to try and catch a glimpse of what was making the noise. More rustling brought the source of the noise within eyesight, though its identity was indistinguishable. All Bellatrix could see was that it seemed to be a living creature about as tall as her waist. It seemed quite wide, though. Perhaps a dwarf? she thought.

"I'm armed," Snape said, striking a formal dueling posture.

The mysterious creature moved closer, its movement quite odd. It didn't seem like a person walking. Snape was now visibly sweating. For all his bravado, it did not seem like he had planned on coming face to face with an opponent.

"Speak to me!" Snape demanded.

Ribbit!

Narcissa began giggling loudly. She walked over, drew her wand, and cast a quick light spell. "It's a giant frog!"

Ribbit!

Bellatrix was also staring with surprise at the frog. Had her cousin's friends really transfigured that? Then, remembering that it was supposed to be a distraction so that she and James could stun the two, she looked over to where James was hiding and motioned for him to start the attack.

"There is something suspicious about this frog!" Snape declared.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Narcissa laughed. "It probably wandered out of the Forbidden Forest."

"There's no such thing as a giant frog!" Snape insisted.

"Stupefy!" Bellatrix and James cried together after sneaking up behind the two. Bellatrix watched with great satisfaction as the two stunners caught the intended victims straight in the back and rendered them unconscious.

Sirius, Remus, Peter joined Bellatrix and James, already laughing merrily.

"That was brilliant!" James told them. "Utterly brilliant!"

"We should take the frog back to the castle with us," Peter squeaked. "We could set it loose in the Great Hall during breakfast!"

"No, Peter, you'd have to anonymously mail it or do something else more clever," James said, eyeing the frog appreciatively. "You know, make it look like someone else's fault."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "We are not bringing the frog back to the castle with us," she declared. "Levitate these two morons so that we can get back to the castle before Lucius shows up with his cronies."

In short order, the group was heading back to the castle with the unconscious bodies of Snape and Narcissa hovering with them. They were nearly back to the main entrance when Remus spoke up. "We've got a problem," he announced.

"What?" Bellatrix asked quickly. "Is Lucius here?"

Remus held out the Marauder's map for her. "No. Lily Evans is just inside the main entrance."

"We can just wait for her to move on," Sirius said.

"Looks like she's staying there," Remus disagreed. "I think she's waiting to catch us."

James groaned. "Of all nights!"

Bellatrix looked at the map, silently cursing her new, nosy dorm mate. "There's no way around her, is there?"

"Nope," Remus said. "We shouldn't have trouble, though, if Professor Ashworth is on our side. I say we just breeze through, tell her we're on a professor's business, and move on. Since we really are going to see Professor Ashworth, there shouldn't be much problem, even if she calls our proverbial bluff, as it were."

"Great," Bellatrix muttered. "Is Professor Ashworth in his office?"

"Why are you asking us?" James snickered. "You're the resident expert on all things Ashworth."

"He left the castle after his last class of the day," Bellatrix huffed. "I have no way of knowing whether he's returned yet."

"Keep your hair on," Sirius said, glancing over Remus's shoulder. "He's in his office."

Bellatrix looked closer at the location on the map where Harry's office was located. A small, unlabeled dot was moving erratically around the office. "How do you know that's him?"

"He's the only one without a name," James said, also looking at the map. "Our standard naming charm doesn't seem to work on him. Is he dancing?"

"Looks like he may be," Remus mused.

"Let's get a move on," Bellatrix said.

"Wait," said Remus. "James, let me take Snape. You won't score any points with Lily if she sees you floating his unconscious body around."

The switch was made. Remus was levitating Snape, and James was leading the party through the castle. They entered the castle. After only a few dozen steps, they were accosted by Lily. "What are you doing to Severus?" she demanded angrily.

"We're taking him to see Professor Ashworth," Bellatrix said coolly. The fact that Lily had followed them down and was now interfering had left Bellatrix rather irate with her new roommate. "How about you go to bed and leave us be?"

"Why are you taking him to see Professor Ashworth?" Lily asked, keeping up with the group with a purposeful stride.

"Because he got busted," Sirius declared with relish. He looked to share a look with James, but his friend was ostensibly looking away.

"Well?" Lily demanded. "What about your sister, Bellatrix? What did she do?"

"Lily," Remus said in a very calm and soothing voice, "some bad things have been happening. Unfortunately, Severus has been involved. We're taking him to see Professor Ashworth. You of all people know that Professor Ashworth is fair."

"What did he do?" Lily demanded.

"He tried to help kidnap my sister, you nosy brat," Bellatrix retorted. "If we're lucky, Ashworth will convince the headmaster to expel him!"

Lily gasped. "He would never do that!"

Bellatrix sighed and increased her pace. The sooner they got to Harry's office, the better. Maybe he'd be able to pound some sense into Evans.

The argument with Lily continued until the group was within earshot of Professor Ashworth's office. At that juncture, they were startled to silence by the noises coming from within the office. They all stopped and stared at the closed door, listening to cacophony of noise coming from within.

"Is that a chicken?" Lily asked hesitantly.

"Sounds like it," Remus said.

Bellatrix sighed and led the group the rest of the way toward the office, wondering why Harry had a chicken in his office. She opened the door and the group entered to find Harry standing on a chair and trying to grab hold of a rooster that had perched on top of a bookshelf.

"Professor Ashworth," Lily announced loudly, "Potter and his friends have been picking on Severus again!"

Harry turned his head and looked down at the group. As he surveyed those in attendance, he winced. "What happened?"

Everyone broke out into their own explanation of the events, gesturing toward the levitated forms of Narcissa and Snape and jabbing their fingers accusatorily at each other. The group was so loud that even the rooster stopped squawking indignantly and stared.

Seeing his moment, Harry grabbed the chicken by its legs and jumped down from the chair. Silence overtook the group as they watched Harry open one of his desk drawers and stuff the rooster in head first. With a satisfied sigh, he closed the drawer and watched to make sure it would stay closed as the rooster indignantly crowed from within.

"Everyone out," Harry declared, "except for Bellatrix. Once I get her version of the events, I'll decide with whom I should speak next." He herded everyone out, asking Sirius and Remus to leave Narcissa and Snape in the office, and then shut the door, leaving him and Bellatrix as the only conscious people in the room.

Harry turned to Bellatrix and arched an eyebrow. "What did you do, deputize Potter and his friends?"

Bellatrix shot Harry a look that was both annoyed and guilty. "I prevented Lucius Malfoy from kidnapping my sister." She then recounted the events.

By the time, she had finished, Harry had retreated to the chair behind his desk and was slumped tiredly in it. "Great," he said.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Bellatrix asked.

"Maybe I should make you deal with it," Harry grumbled.

"Obviously, that option is not available to you," Bellatrix said.

"I'll have a conversation with Snape," Harry decided. "We'll see where to go from there."

"Fine," said Bellatrix. "May I take my sister? I think it would be best if I or my father dealt with her."

"Great," Harry said. "Take her and deal with her. Tell your little group of deputies that they can go back to bed."

Bellatrix assumed control of Narcissa's levitation with her wand and then opened the door. Before she could close it after walking out, Lily Evans slipped in.

"Please professor, I need to talk to you," Lily said urgently, glancing back and forth between him and the levitated, unconscious Snape. "I'm sure that this is just a misunderstanding."

Harry sighed, "Very well, Miss Evans. Close the door behind you."

Lily shut the door and sat down, attempting to establish eye contact with Harry, though it proved difficult. "I'm sure that Severus hasn't done anything wrong," she declared.

"Do you even know what he's been accused of doing?" Harry sighed.

"Bellatrix says he tried to kidnap Narcissa," Lily said. "I just know that he wouldn't do that sort of thing."

Harry began to tap his fingers on the desk in front of him as he ostensibly ignored the squawking chicken in his desk. "I guess you're right, Miss Evans," Harry admitted. "Severus wasn't trying to kidnap Narcissa, per se, but he was helping someone to do so."

"Lucius Malfoy," Lily said, leaning forward. "And from my information, it sounds like Narcissa was perfectly willing to go."

"Who told you that?" Harry.

"James brought me up to speed," Lily replied.

Harry smiled. "Did he? That was nice of him."

Lily seemed slightly taken aback, but she regained her composure. "He had no choice in the matter," Lily said. "But as I said, Narcissa was willing to go."

"I'm sorry Miss Evans, but Narcissa is not old enough to make that decision. Lucius Malfoy was seeking to remove her from the custody of this school. Her custody was entrusted to us by her father, Cygnus Black."

"They have a marriage contract," Lily argued.

"Not for much longer," Harry retorted, smirking inwardly. Due to his interference with the Black family, Draco Malfoy might never be born. It was a glorious thought, though it was also very sobering. Had Harry prevented the birth of other people who had been friendlier to his cause?

Lily looking at Harry imploringly, "Perhaps Severus didn't understand what he was doing."

"Would you have done the same thing if a good friend had asked you?" Harry inquired, beginning to feel very irritated. Had his mother still been alive in his future, would she have persisted in defending Snape against Harry's complaints of poor classroom manners and general surliness toward Harry? Harry had always dreamed that she would have made things better, but he was now beginning to doubt.

"No," Lily admitted slowly. "I guess not, but it may be that Severus was under a curse or potion that allowed Lucius Malfoy to influence him."

Harry lost his temper and slammed his fist into the desk. "Why do you persist in defending him?" he demanded, his voice becoming almost violent. "It is abundantly clear that he did wrong, Miss Evans! He was caught! The facts are indisputable! Why do you insist that he did no wrong?"

Lily was intimidated, but no one could accuse her of lacking spunk. "He's my friend, Professor," she retorted loudly. "He's always been my friend, and he's always been teased and picked on my others. I'm sick of seeing Severus bullied!"

Harry rose to his feet and directed a baleful glare at Lily. His green eyes pulsated intensely as his turbulent emotions aroused his magic. Sensing that he was on the edge of losing his temper even further, Harry was careful not to yell. "Being his friend doesn't give you the right to shield him from the consequences of his actions," Harry told Lily in an evenly-toned voice. "He may have once showed you kindness in the past, but he has treated everyone here at Hogwarts with contempt—professors included. That, Lily, is why he has social problems. At his core, Severus has problems. It's time that you let him leave your nest. Harbor for yourself your feelings of friendship, but stop trying to make excuses and defend him against consequences. Once he starts to see that he's responsible for his actions, maybe he'll begin to be a better person."

Lily burst into tears. Suddenly feeling deflated, Harry collapsed back into his chair, drew his wand, and used it to summon a box of tissue. He was forced to watch as she made liberal use of the tissue to wipe away her tears.

"I'm sorry, Miss Evans," Harry apologized, beginning to feel very guilty. "It's just that . . . what Severus did tonight is rather serious. Lucius Malfoy had made some very poor choices in his life. He has caused pain for others and has left his father bitterly disappointed in him. If you had a daughter the age of Narcissa, how would feel if some teenage boy arranged for her to run away with him? How would you feel about the other person who helped the teenage boy?"

"I guess I understand," Lily said quietly.

"Good," Harry said. "I will act in the best interests of Mr. Snape," he promised.

"Are you going to have him expelled?" Lily asked, fearful of what the answer might be.

"If my conversation with Mr. Snape goes well, I might not even bring the matter up with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.

"I'll go then," Lily said, sounding slightly comforted. She stood up and prepared to retreat from Harry's office.

"There's one last thing I would have you understand," Harry said quietly, looking at his mother soberly. "James Potter did not participate in the events of tonight with the intent of specifically cornering or bullying Mr. Snape."

Lily shook her head, wiping her eyes with a damp tissue. "I'm sorry professor, but I have a hard time believing that."

"Lily, Sirius's father asked Sirius to keep an eye on Bellatrix to make sure she isn't hurt by certain Slytherins." Harry explained. "James Potter was kind enough to volunteer to help out. It hasn't been all fun and games. Tonight, James inserted himself into a dangerous situation to protect Bellatrix's sister. Give James half the chances you give to Severus, and I think you'll find James to be a somewhat admirable person."

"I'll think about it," Lily sniffed before departing, closing the door behind her.

Harry sighed remorsefully and waved his wand, muttering some spells to lock the door. He then paced back and forth behind his desk, considering his options, before finally approaching the still unconscious, levitated form of Severus Snape. He pointed his wand at Snape and uttered the spell to wake him up. "Enervate!"

Snape awoke with a start and jerked his head around urgently, looking back and forth as he tried to ascertain where he was and what happened.

"Yeah, you got caught," Harry said, moving into Snape's line of sight. "Congratulations." With a swift movement, Harry grabbed Snape's arm and pushed up his sleeve. Seeing nothing but pale skin, Harry did the same with the other arm. Saying nothing about his observation, Harry took hold of his wand and cancelled the spell that had been levitating Snape. The teenage Snape dropped to the floor in a heap while Harry walked to his desk and sat down.

How ironic, Harry thought, glancing around the office that might very well still be Snape's in the not-so-distant future. The shoe is now on the other foot.

Snape gathered his wits and stood up. "I must insist that you tell me what is going on, Professor."

Harry arched his eyebrow smoothly, feeling very dramatic. Suddenly remembering the chicken in the drawer and not wanting it to start making a racket that would spoil the moment, Harry discreetly used his wand to cast a silencing charm on the drawer while directing his gaze at Snape. Once Harry reckoned that enough time had passed, he spoke. "Perhaps you could tell me what you were doing in the forest tonight—with Narcissa Black."

"That's none of your business, Professor," Snape retorted.

"Those who caught you overheard your conversation with Narcissa," Harry said. "I know that Lucius Malfoy arranged with you to make sure Narcissa Black could meet with him and leave the castle tonight."

"I have nothing to say," Snape sneered.

Harry resisted the urge to reach across the desk and slap Snape's face—hard. Harry cast his mind about for information that might help him in the conversation. He reviewed everything Bellatrix had told him about the conversation with Narcissa and everything he had known about Snape in the future. There had to be something that would get under Snape's skin.

"They'll never really accept you, you know," Harry said casually, seemingly turning his attention away from Snape and focusing on the wall to the side of the desk. "You're only a half-blood."

Snape's eyes betrayed his fury, though he remained silent.

"Your potions might be valuable one day, or perhaps you'll hold positions of trust and be cognizant to valuable information. Or maybe you'll be a good duelist, well-versed in the dark arts. It doesn't matter, though. Once you've given the dark lord what he wants, he'll cast you aside. You'll be killed or left to rot in Azkaban—probably killed, though." Harry shot Snape a sidelong glance. Snape had not reacted to anything Harry had said.

Harry smiled. "You aren't surprised that I've mentioned a dark lord. The implication is that you already know he exists. That information, combined with the facts of what you attempted to do this evening, could get you sent to Azkaban for the rest of your life, Mr. Snape. Narcissa's father is, after all, the Minister of Magic."

Snape glared at Harry but remained silent.

Harry resisted the urge to stand up and start yelling at Snape, maybe punching him a few times. That wouldn't get him anywhere—not with Snape. A thought occurred to Harry, a thought he reckoned might work, though he felt slightly guilty for even considering the possibility.

"You do realize, Severus, what it is that a dark lord stands for and does, don't you? They tend to be very violent and brutal. This particular dark lord had a hatred for those who are not purebloods. He will want to kill or imprison anyone witch or wizard who isn't a pureblood. You know, ironically, he doesn't really care about all the pureblood nonsense—that's just the cause he uses to get people behind him, though he does hate Muggles. I'll admit that. But anyway, Lily Evans isn't a pureblood. I reckon she'd be one of his targets eventually. He'd probably kill her . . . after raping her a few times. How do you like that?"

"She'd be under my protection," Snape snarled.

"Your protection?" Harry said. He laughed. "Didn't I just tell you how expendable you are? Nope, you'd have to sacrifice her for the cause. He'd even make you do the deed—at least as far as killing her."

"I don't believe you," Snape hissed.

"What would Lily think?" Harry asked, going on without a care for Snape's defiance. "She was just in here, you know, pleading for me to have mercy on you. She's convinced that you're a martyr—teased and bullied. I'll admit you've had it rough, but let's be honest, that isn't an excuse. Maybe I should call her back down. I can explain to her all about Lucius Malfoy and the dark lord. I'll tell her what the dark lord thinks of mudbloods like her. I'll explain that you're going to join up with the dark lord and go around ravaging and killing muggle families. I'll even tell her—"

"Leave her out of it!" Snape snarled. He drew his wand and went to cast a spell at Harry.

Because he had been assuming that Bellatrix and the Marauders would have not left Snape's wand on his person, Harry had not been prepared for Snape to attack him. However, Harry had become very quick with his wand—especially in the months since arriving in the past. He himself drew his wand and cast a banishing charm, smashing Snape, who promptly dropped his wand, into the wall near the office door. "I'll tell you what," Harry said, rising from behind his desk and feeling like he'd achieved the desired effect. "If you stay away from the dark lord and his followers, I'll not tell Lily all about what you seriously considered doing. I also won't tell Professor Dumbledore about your actions, both helping to kidnap Narcissa Black and just now attacking me." Harry was now standing over Snape and looking down at him. Do we have a bargain?"

"I guess," Snape said.

"Yes, you don't really have any choice, do you?" Harry said, opening the door to his office. "Now get out of my office. I'll be watching you very carefully. If I discover you outside of the castle for a purpose not related to a class or class assignment, you may as well pack your bags for Azkaban."

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix had returned to the hallway outside of Harry's office as soon as she, Sirius, and James had dropped Narcissa off at the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. With amusement, she listened as Harry opened the door to his office and threatened Snape with Azkaban. At Harry's urging, Snape departed. Bellatrix then slipped into Harry's office and closed the door.

"I'll write to my father and uncle about the incident," Bellatrix told Harry. "What should I say?"

Harry returned to his chair. "Let them know that Lucius tried to get involved with Narcissa. Say that the situation has been taken care of, though it would be good if they could ensure that Narcissa no longer has any bright ideas about running off with Lucius. They should probably kill that marriage contract between the two."

"Were they married in your future?" Bellatrix asked, not sitting down, but rather choosing to pace back and forth.

"Yeah," Harry said. "They had a beastly child named Draco. Maybe we can prevent that atrocity from being perpetrated."

"Did Draco kill a lot of people?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not really. He was more pathetic than anything else. In fact, Tom may have killed or allowed him to have been killed by the time I myself was captured."

"I see," Bellatrix said, storing the fact away. It wasn't often that Harry so willingly told her about someone's future. "There may not be much my father or uncle can do. The marriage contract was encouraged and negotiated by my mother and aunt. They're rather strong-willed and don't often agree with their husbands."

"Do your best," Harry said.

"Why do you have a chicken in your desk?" Bellatrix asked Harry.

"I was going to, uh, pursue a little side project," Harry said. "Your uncle reminded me that my time here at Hogwarts isn't permanent. There are a few things around here that really ought to be taken care of before they become advantages for Tom."

"Care to enlighten me?" Bellatrix asked in a too casual voice.

"Later," Harry said. "I don't have the energy to pursue the matter now that I've spent the night arguing with Snape and my—uh, Miss Evans."

Bellatrix glared at Harry and folded her arms crossly.

Seeing the glare, Harry winced. "I promise that we'll take care of it together. I'll tell you everything." he said. "See? I treat you like my partner."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. "You've been avoiding me since our . . . fight in the Room of Requirement." She felt her cheeks heat up a little bit at the thought of kissing him. He had chosen not to mention it, and she was kind of glad because she didn't want to talk about the situation until the moment was just right.

"I've been busy," Harry said, a little too defensively.

"Uh-huh."

"I couldn't steal this chicken from Hagrid, now could I? Finding and buying a chicken is a lot harder than you'd think," Harry said. "It took me from right after my classes for the day ended until just before you and your posse arrived."

"Fine," Bellatrix said. "When are we going to use your chicken for your project?"

"Tomorrow night, maybe," Harry mused. "Late."

"All right," said Bellatrix. "If I'm going to be up tomorrow night, I should probably get to bed now." She stopped pacing and made her way toward the door.

"There's one more thing, Bellatrix," Harry said.

Bellatrix turned around. "Yes?"

"If you're going to go around with Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew, please make sure they don't come to harm," Harry said.

"Yeah, whatever," Bellatrix said. "Good night."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry idly whistled to himself as he left the Potions classroom and made his way down the hall to his office. He still sorely wished that he could have taught a subject other than Potions, but it wasn't that bad. He had managed to blunder through the daily classes without too much trouble and was now ready for a break. He opened the door to his office and was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore standing just inside.

"Albus," Harry said, clearly surprised. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Of course not," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Forgive me for the intrusion. I wanted to talk to you about a matter and thought that your office would be the best option for finding you."

"There's no problem," Harry said. "I was just saying that I was surprised." He closed the door behind him and smiled at the headmaster. "What can I do for you?"

Dumbledore gestured toward the seat behind Harry's desk as he himself took the chair opposite. "I just wanted to talk. However, before we really begin the conversation in earnest, I wonder if you would enlighten me as to why you have a chicken in your desk drawer.

Harry winced as he took a seat. Faintly, he could hear the chicken squawking. The silencing charm from the night before was wearing off. Harry quickly searched for an explanation for the chicken in the drawer. Finally, he looked at Dumbledore and put on his best poker face. "It's a science experiment."

Dumbledore tilted his head and smiled. "How extraordinary," he said. "Especially . . ."

"Especially what?" Harry asked

"Never mind," Dumbledore said, waving his hand dismissively. "Harry, we need to talk about the things that are going on in our world."

"Oh?" Harry said.

Candidly, Dumbledore explained the observations he had made with regard to the raising incidents of crime throughout Britain, the recent political upheaval in the Ministry, and Bellatrix's experience with some of the Slytherin students. "I'm sure you also are aware of all these things, Harry," Dumbledore concluded. "In addition to these observations, I can't help but also observe that you seem to be closely tied to the Black family. You are protecting their . . . interests here at Hogwarts, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged, doing his best to act unconcerned by the topic Dumbledore was pursuing. He was prepared to reveal a certain amount of information to Professor Dumbledore, but he wanted it to be just right. "I try to keep their children out of trouble and harm's way. They've been very good friends since my arrival here."

"Thus, you have an inside curve with the Blacks, Harry." Dumbledore said. "If any family knows what is going on in Britain, it is the Blacks, especially with Cygnus now being the Minister of Magic. I'm sure they're doing their best to do what is right for everyone. I also want to ensure that everything is all right in the world."

"Of course," Harry said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.

"I'm going to be direct, Harry. Do you know anything that maybe I should know also?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I'm not sure," Harry said slowly, feigning nervousness.

"Harry, if there's something bad going on, I should know," Dumbledore said quietly, advancing his position. "I am a ranking member of the Wizengamot and an influential member of society. If there is a problem, it is my duty to help."

Though Harry was already convinced of the necessity of putting Dumbledore on the right path, he decided the part he was playing required just a little bit more reluctance. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't like breaking confidence."

"It would be far worse to keep a secret that could hurt people," Dumbledore urged.

Harry let out a put-upon sigh. "All right. The Blacks are convinced that there's some up-and-coming dark lord out there doing recruiting amongst the younger generation. My job is to supervise their children and report anything unusual I might see happening among Hogwarts students."

"Something like Bellatrix's little incident in the forest?" Dumbledore said gravely.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Stuff like that. You can't blame me, can you? I'm not doing anything dishonest."

"Of course not," Dumbledore said reassuringly, though it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. "Helping out friends is above reproach. You've done nothing wrong."

"Do you know what else the Blacks are doing in their . . . opposition to this dark lord?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry shrugged artfully. "I don't know. I would assume that Minister Black is doing his best to prepare the Ministry's defenses."

"Let us hope so," Dumbledore breathed.

19. A Cock's Crow Spells Death

A/N: Thank you for your many reviews. LS

Chapter Eighteen

By

Lord Silvere

"I'm afraid that your new trick is getting rather old," Bellatrix told Harry. She was lounging on a couch, basking in the heat of a fire brought into existence by the Room of Requirement. Harry's projected image had been walking around the room for half an hour as Harry tested its capabilities. Bellatrix had spent the time flipping through various books that the Room of Requirement had provided her for her time next to the fireplace.

Harry frowned at her—or rather his image did. "You have no idea how useful this spell could be in a duel or while spying."

"Oh, I have an idea," Bellatrix said. "It's just that you should be able to twist it into more useful practice. Does the image projected have to strictly reflect you?"

"Well apparently not," Harry said. "The image is walking, but I am not."

"I assumed that," Bellatrix said. "Can't you make yourself look different? Can your projected image duel as if it were you?"

Harry sighed, and the image disappeared. Promptly, the real Harry appeared standing close to Bellatrix's couch. "I'll look into it, but I'd rather become accustomed to the abilities I already have."

"All right then," Bellatrix said. "Now that you've become competent with the spell I assigned to you, I have a new one."

Harry sighed. "Have you even been working on casting a patronus?"

"I've given it a few tries," Bellatrix said offhandedly, dodging Harry's inquiry. Quickly, she moved on to pressing her agenda. "But that's beside the point. Your talent and power are too valuable to be wasted. If you're sick of working on the image projection spell, it's time to move on. You can come back to it later. I've found a very useful, though rare spell that might be up your alley. Didn't you say the core to that wand is a phoenix feather?"

"Yeah, why?"

Bellatrix handed Harry a small book. "Try the spell on page seventeen."

It appeared that the book's cover might have once been leather, but time had degraded it to the point of being recognized only as a substance browner and harder than the sheets of paper held within. Gingerly, Harry cracked open book to and attempted to cipher the ancient language and runes on page seventeen. "Phoenix fire?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "An alternate means of transportation. Consider it. No one thinks to ward against phoenix fire, and to be truthful, I don't think anyone can. Furthermore, it sounds like it is much smoother than even apparition. There's also the element of style to be considered. Appearing and disappearing in bursts of flame would be impressive."

"Well, when you put it that way," Harry said slowly. "But, it kind of sounds too good to be true."

Bellatrix took the book back from Harry. "The image projection spell also seemed beyond belief. Even I had doubts," she admitted.

Harry chose not to respond to her confession. Instead, he focused on the feasibility of the spell. "What does the book say?"

"It says the spell's creator was obsessed with phoenixes. The power of their feathers, the healing properties of their tears, their ability to carry heavy objects, etc. He was convinced that the phoenix embodied the noblest properties of the light—as opposed to the dark. He discovered the spell and used it often. However, when he attempted to teach it to others, he discovered that very few wizards or witches were capable."

"How few?" Harry sighed.

"One or two while he was alive. A handful of others after he died," Bellatrix said. "Each of them had some affinity or connection to phoenixes. I reckon a phoenix feather wand might do the trick."

Harry shrugged thoughtfully. "It might." There's also the time I was healed by phoenix tears and Fawkes's apparent approval of me, he thought to himself. He held up his yew and phoenix feather wand. "All right, I'll give it a try. What's the incantation?"

"Well," said Bellatrix, "it doesn't quite have one. The spell's creator seemed to think it was more of a mental exertion. Imagine the fire surrounding you. You are the fire. You are travelling. Then you are the fire, and then you are Harry again."

Harry groaned. "Give me the book." Bellatrix surrendered the book to him and Harry perused the details about the spell, its creator, and the specific instructions for its casting. "It seems related to the image projection spell," he commented. "I'm seeing a lot of the same principles. The difference is that instead of just projecting my image, I'm going all the way."

"In a blaze of glory, no less," Bellatrix said, a quirky smile on her face. "Ready to give it a try?"

"Yeah," said Harry, suddenly feeling quite confident. "I can actually see myself doing this." He handed her the book, held his wand out, and closed his eyes.

"Great. I'll watch," said Bellatrix. She stepped back. "Try to aim for somewhere inside this room so I can see."

"Obviously," Harry said, trying to focus his thoughts on the new form of magical transportation. His mind slipped into the thought pattern he used for the image projection spell, though he resisted the urge to release his magic into that particular spell. Remembering that he needed to involve fire, he imagined the fire surrounding himself—not just any fire though, phoenix fire. He reckoned that as soon as he felt the fire, he'd then try to appear with the fire on the other side of the room. He stood still, eyes closed, thoughts focused on being enveloped with phoenix fire.

He felt nothing, and then suddenly . . . cold and wet. About a hundred gallons of cold water sluiced over him, almost knocking him to the floor. Gasping, Harry opened his eyes and found Bellatrix pointing her wand at him, her eyes betraying a hint of shock.

"What did you do that for?" Harry demanded.

"You were on fire!" Bellatrix retorted.

"I think I would have known if I was on fire," Harry grumbled.

"I think I know fire when I see it!" Bellatrix declared. "Apparently you forgot the whole transportation idea and nearly cremated yourself."

Harry looked down at his sodden robes and cringed. "I didn't forget about the transportation. I was waiting until I felt the fire." He began to use his wand to cast drying charms. "There's no way I was on fire. I would have felt it."

"Harry," Bellatrix said, "if the guy who invented this spell felt the fire, he probably wouldn't have continued inventing the spell. Maybe if you didn't close your eyes every time you try to learn a new spell, you would have noticed the fire."

"Maybe you're right," Harry conceded reluctantly.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm right. Let's see you try it again. This time, keep your eyes open, and when you see the fire, focus on moving to the travel destination."

Harry was about to reply, but was cut off when a clock chimed midnight. He grinned triumphantly. "Well, I'd love to stay and continue setting myself on fire, but I do believe that is our cue to move onto the real purpose of this evening." He sheathed his wand in an arm holster and moved toward the door. Next to the door sat a small cage containing an unconscious rooster. "I hope our friend here recovers from your stunning spell, Bellatrix." Harry picked up the chicken cage.

Bellatrix joined Harry at the door to the Room of Requirement. "Of course he'll recover. Are you going to tell me what we're doing, now?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Might as well," Harry said, pausing to collect his thoughts. "The dark lord happens to be the heir of Salazar Slytherin. When he was a student at Hogwarts, he opened the Chamber of Secrets. Do you know what that is?"

"Every good Slytherin knows what the Chamber of Secrets is," Bellatrix answered.

"Great," said Harry. "Tom opened the Chamber, killed a girl, and in the uproar that followed, was forced to abandon his plans to rid the school of the Muggleborn students lest he be caught and brought to justice."

"Interesting," said Bellatrix, prompting Harry to go on.

"The monster placed in the Chamber by Slytherin and later used by the dark lord is a basilisk," Harry declared.

Bellatrix looked down at the unconscious chicken. "Of course. I should have guessed."

"You know about basilisks, too, I take it," Harry commented.

"I was born in a magic family and thus have had the advantage of a magical upbringing," Bellatrix said. "The question , though, is how do you intend to get into this Chamber that supposedly only the heir can open? And of course, how did you come to know all of this about the Chamber?"

"When I was at Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets was opened," Harry said. "The dark lord had created a journal that he left behind. The journal was sentient enough to independently possess a girl that had the misfortune to come across it. My friend and I busted into the Chamber, saved the girl, and killed the diary."

Bellatrix frowned. "How did you . . . kill the diary?"

"Stabbed it with a basilisk fang," Harry said.

"Interesting," Bellatrix murmured. "I think we need to find out more about this journal. It will still be extant in this, the past, wouldn't it?"

"Of course," said Harry. "But if we go down and kill the basilisk now, that won't matter anymore. That's why I want to kill the basilisk while I'm still at Hogwarts."

"I don't know," said Bellatrix. "That journal sounds like an above-average dark artifact to me. It could have multiple uses. But, moving on. How are you able to open the Chamber of Secrets?"

This was a secret Harry was not anxious to reveal, but as he had reflected on the eventuality of revealing it to her this night, Harry had realized that he was not overly concerned about sharing the secret with her. She had proven to be on his side. "I'm a parselmouth," Harry said. "Any parselmouth can open the Chamber."

"Are you really?" Bellatrix said, surprise and shock evident in the tone of her voice.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, trying to assess her reaction.

Bellatrix looked off into space and nodded to herself, quietly thinking. "That bodes well for our future against the dark lord. Are there other skills he has that you might also possess?"

"Eh, possibly," Harry said, not wanting to get into a discussion concerning his connection to Lord Voldemort.

"Right," Bellatrix said, appearing to not be overly interested in speculation. "I guess we're ready to start. Where is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry smiled. "You don't want to take any guesses?"

"I've heard so many theories that I just don't believe any of them anymore," Bellatrix said. "Just tell me so that we can get going already."

Harry held open the door to the Room of Requirement and followed Bellatrix as she walked out. "It's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," he said.

Bellatrix put her hand over her mouth to stifle hysterical laughter. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? That's hilarious. But wait. She was the student who died, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Harry acknowledged, gesturing down the hall toward where they should be heading in order to reach the bathroom as quickly as possible. "She accidentally got killed when the dark lord opened it one day and set the monster loose."

"Well, I hate to say it," Bellatrix said quietly, "but she may have been the intended target. She is rather annoying."

Harry winced, a well of sympathy rising in his emotions on the behalf of Myrtle. "Let's not tell her that."

"Why not?" Bellatrix asked as they ascended a staircase. "Maybe she'll get angry enough to flush herself down to the lake. It's not like we need her hovering around watching us do our work."

"She'll never realize it, but I do owe her a few favors," Harry said, thinking back to her help in finding the Chamber and with the Triwizard Tournament.

"Oh, please," Bellatrix scoffed.

Not wanting to explain any further, Harry contented himself to silence. In short order, the couple found themselves outside of the infamously haunted bathroom.

"I can see why you've waited for nearly everyone to go to sleep," Bellatrix said, pushing open the door and walking into the darkened bathroom, Harry following close behind. "A guy walking into a girl's toilet would raise some eyebrows."

"Who's there?" came a girlish voice.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something snide, but Harry held out his hand and forestalled her. "It would be best if Myrtle remains unable to identify us to anyone who might ask."

"What if ghosts can see in the dark?" Bellatrix whispered back.

"I don't think they can," Harry said, handing the caged chicken to Bellatrix. "Stay back in the darker shadows, and I'll handle this."

"I said, who's there?" Moaning Myrtle declared petulantly. She floated out from her stall and squinted, trying to use the moonlight coming through the windows to see Harry.

Harry drew his wand and quietly placed some charms on himself to obscure his face and disguise his voice.

"You can hurt me; I'm dead," Myrtle declared.

"You might call me a friend," Harry said, his voice coming out as a raspy whisper as he turned toward the sinks. He knelt down and eyeballed the familiar faucet, quickly finding the small snake that marked the entrance to the bathroom. Doing his best to pretend that it was a living snake, Harry spoke to it. His speech came forth from his mouth as a hiss. "Open."

A clank sounded behind the wall and the sink dropped from view. Myrtle gasped in astonishment. "It was you!"

"No," said Harry. "It was not I."

"Then what are you doing?" Myrtle demanded.

"I'm here to kill the monster. In a way, I'm avenging your death. Now, if you would be so kind as to give me a little privacy, I'll be on my way." Turning his attention away from Myrtle as if she was already gone, Harry withdrew a very small broom from his pocket and enlarged it. Glancing up, he saw that Myrtle had drifted back to her stall. Surprised at his luck, he motioned for Bellatrix to come out from the shadows. They both mounted the broom, and Harry gently hovered the broom down the long pipe as Bellatrix held onto the caged rooster.

"Nice broomstick," Bellatrix commented.

"Borrowed it from Quidditch shed," Harry explained.

"Did you ever play?" Bellatrix asked.

"Yes," said Harry. "I miss it."

"Interesting," said Bellatrix. "I can't say that I play, but I've watched a few games. What position did you play most often?"

"Seeker," Harry said as he felt his feet make contact with the floor. As he remembered from his original visit to the Chamber, the floor was quite grimy and covered with skeletons of small animals.

Bellatrix dismounted the broom and surveyed what she could see of their surroundings. "I had expected the Chamber of Secrets to be a little bit more impressive," she said as Harry used his wand to light up the tunnel system they were now standing in.

"This isn't the chamber proper," Harry explained. "It's a little way down the passageway here. I think we're safe, but it might be best if we keep our eyes down and listen carefully for any movement. If you hear anything, close your eyes."

"Does the basilisk run loose?" Bellatrix asked, a hint of concern appearing in her voice.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. At least, it isn't supposed to. From what I understand, it has a holding place inside a big statue of Slytherin."

"You'd think Slytherin would be smart enough to do run it that way, but what about the dark lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"No clue," Harry said. "When I talked to the shadow of the diary, it claimed that the basilisk didn't come unless called. So I think we can assume that's the rule to go by."

"Wonderful," Bellatrix sighed. "Let's get moving. I don't really want to spend all night down here."

Harry led the way to the main opening of the Chamber. The glinting jewels that made the eyes of the carved snakes guarding the entrance made it easy for Harry to imagine that they were indeed real. In response to his command, they slid away and opened the Chamber of Secrets to view. The Chamber was dark, so Harry used his wand to cast several bright orbs toward the ceiling. They hovered, casting a glowing light upon the snake statues and that of Salazar Slytherin himself.

"Very slimy, but very impressive," Bellatrix declared. "It's curious that he would go to such efforts to create a room that no one but his heir would really see. That is, unless Slytherin expected this to become the school headquarters. Or perhaps the center of some ritualistic worship."

"It's a sign that he was completely crazy," Harry replied.

"You have a point," Bellatrix acknowledged, still surveying her surroundings with curiosity. Her eyes lighted on the statue of Slytherin. "The snake lives in there? Great. How did you want to go about killing it?"

"I reckoned I could just open up the entrance to where the snake lives and then get the rooster out and have it crow," Harry explained.

Bellatrix frowned. "Let's think about this strategically, Harry. If the door to the snake's hidey-hole opens and it instantly hears the rooster crow, it will die perhaps instantly."

"Yeah, that's the point," Harry said

"Do you want to climb into the statue to confirm its death?" Bellatrix asked. "What about if we want to harvest potion ingredients later? That would make getting to the snake's body very difficult." Bellatrix said. "How about you open it up, we let the snake slither on out, and then we have the rooster crow?"

"Are you forgetting the deadly nature of its eyes?" Harry asked.

"There's lots of statues behind which to hide," Bellatrix said.

"Oh, very well," Harry said, giving in to her plan.

After a great deal of preparation, they were ready. Bellatrix had revived the rooster and temporarily silenced it while Harry had scouted a hiding place behind one of the statues far from Slytherin's statue. In addition to making sure the snake statue was large and substantial, Harry had enlarged and transfigured a number of stone into walls which provided a sort of bunker in which Harry, Bellatrix, and the rooster could hide.

"Can you open the statue from inside the bunker?" Bellatrix asked as she and Harry crowded in and confirmed that there was room enough for them to stand and maneuver with the chicken.

Harry strained his neck and peeked around the walls. "I can't even see the statue from here. I think I can just go up there, say the words, and then run back here."

"That's risky, Harry. What if it jumps out and attacks you instantly?"

"Don't you think it might at least wait to ascertain who I am and what I want before killing me?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix shook her head negatively. "It's a snake, Harry, and a very intelligent one at that. If this dark lord is so smart, he's bound to have taken precautions against this asset being turned against him."

"Then what do you suggest?" Harry asked, feeling a little bit cross.

"Try your image projection spell," Bellatrix told him. "If it doesn't work out, we don't lose anything."

Harry shrugged and drew his wand. He pointed the wand at the floor and muttered the incantation. Magic whispered in its arcane, though silent way, and Harry felt his presence gliding across the Chamber of Secrets to a position in front of the statue. He came to a halt, and his form materialized in front of the statue. Appearing as if he really were in front of the statue, Harry looked up into its eyes and spoke in Parseltongue. "Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of Hogwarts Four!"

Slytherin's mouth opened, and Harry stood transfixed, staring at the dark opening. Abruptly, he felt someone poking his arm. Reflexively, he looked down at his side before realizing he wasn't really standing there. Quickly realizing that it must be Bellatrix, he ended the spell and found himself looking at Bellatrix's face.

"Don't be stupid," she hissed.

"Sorry," said Harry.

"Tell yourself that you're sorry," grumbled Bellatrix, quite obviously trying to strain and listen for sounds of the basilisk exiting its hole. "You're the one that could have gotten killed."

"So, you were able to feel me even though you couldn't see me?" Harry asked, curious about her being able to poke him while he was using the image projection spell.

"Yes, now be quiet," said Bellatrix as she shifted the struggling rooster into a position from where she could remove the silencing charm.

Harry and Bellatrix stood quietly, straining to hear for any sign that the basilisk had entered the chamber through the statue. A number of odd sounds could be heard, but neither Harry nor Bellatrix were sure whether it was the basilisk.

"Make it some bait," Bellatrix said in a deathly still voice. She pointed Harry's attention down to a small rock that would make a good transfiguration candidate.

Harry nodded, pointed his wand at the rock, and transfigured it into an unusually large rat. Before the newly-created rat could gain its senses, Harry pointed his wand and banished it away from their position in the makeshift bunker. A very loud thud signified that it had collided with a column or statue.

The rat began squealing loudly, and then they heard the basilisk roar. They then listened as the basilisk slithered, lunged, and roared while the rat squealed and squeaked.

"I would have thought the rat would die nearly instantly, what with the basilisk's eyes," Bellatrix said, a frown on her face.

"Well, maybe the rat has been lucky and has avoided looking into its eyes," Harry theorized, remembering clearly that Filch's cat had been one of the basilisk's victims during his second year at Hogwarts. There was no chance that the rat was immune to the basilisk's stare. "Are you going to let the rooster crow or are we going to completely sacrifice the rat?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix looked at Harry flatly. "It was a very ugly rat, Harry."

"I can't really say I'm fond of rats either," Harry admitted, as another roar and squeal, followed by a sickening crunching noise marked the end of the transfigured rat's life.

Bellatrix smirked, pointed her wand at the rooster, and then removed the silencing charm. Despite this, the rooster chose to remain silent. "I think you bought a defective rooster, Harry."

"They're supposed to crow whenever there is light," Harry complained.

Bellatrix glanced up at the glowing orbs Harry had used to light the chamber. "Try some normal fire," Bellatrix suggested, "or something more like sunlight, anyway. Either that or transfigure another animal. Maybe a pig, this time." A sound that sounded like it might be the basilisk's scales sliding over the stone floor of the chamber became louder. "Hurry!" she urged.

Harry conjured a very large fireball and lobbed it up in the air. The rooster stared at the fireball and then finally crowed, making the Chamber of Secrets sound vaguely like the friendly barnyard it wasn't. The basilisk shrieked, and Harry and Bellatrix were forced to cover their ears. The basilisk's death cries continued for nearly a minute before a thud marked its falling to the floor.

"Mission accomplished," Harry declared. "Let's go take a look."

Bellatrix put a hand on Harry's shoulder and held him back. "I think it would be better if we stayed here for a few minutes," she said. "We can't be sure that it's completely dead, you know. There's also the possibility that it might still spasm or that maybe its eyes are still capable of killing or stunning."

Harry winced. "With that logic, we'll never be sure whether it is safe to come out or not."

Bellatrix pointed to another small pebble. "Transfigure us a pig, Harry. We'll set it loose. If it can wander around the chamber for a while without anything bad happening, we'll call it good."

"Good plan," Harry said. He transfigured the rock into a pig of normal size and tried to set it loose. It was reluctant to move from the bunker until Bellatrix cast a few stinging charms at its rump. She also decided to send the rooster away, though it, however, was happy to leave the custody of those that had imprisoned it for the past day and a half.

Harry cast a few cleaning charms at the nasty floor and then sat down. Bellatrix followed suit and was soon leaning against the wall of their makeshift bunker with Harry. "How long do we have to wait, do you suppose?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure we can find something to talk about that will help the time pass quickly."

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"Great," said Bellatrix. "Let's talk about our upcoming marriage."

Harry closed his eyes and resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. Realizing that it was futile to debate with Bellatrix, he opted to adopt the strategy of forcing the ball to her court. "Yes," said Harry, "tell me about our marriage."

"Don't be sarcastic, Ashworth," Bellatrix said. She contemplated the subject for a few moments and then started talking. "The biggest issue that we need to keep in mind is the fact that you may already be magically recognized as the proverbial Lord Black. Or at least, 'a' Lord Black if not 'the' Lord Black."

"I thought our lack of what might be described as a romantic relationship was the issue," Harry reminded Bellatrix.

Bellatrix looked at Harry with an arched eyebrow. "Do you need another kiss, Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, looking away. Her offer was strangely tempting and at the same time, slightly repulsing. Young Bellatrix had supplanted many of Harry's memories of the older, more wicked, version of Bellatrix. However, old and wicked Bellatrix was not a memory easily erased, nor were the impressions the original Bellatrix had left on Harry. There was also the fact that romancing students was completely against the rules for Hogwarts staff members.

"Anyway," Bellatrix said, "the last thing we need is you signing a marriage contract that could curtail any privileges you might already have. On the other hand, the marriage contract could formally give you an unimpeachable identity in our society and confirm your being an English subject. You would of course take the Black surname, unless of course, your real surname is better."

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure it doesn't especially matter."

"I see," Bellatrix said, frowning. "Well, anyway, it's very fortunate that my father has become Minister of Magic . . . thanks to your manipulations."

"Your uncle's manipulations, actually," Harry corrected.

"I think you underestimate the effect you've had on our world," Bellatrix said. "You may be older than I am, but I still predate you. Thus, I still know more about some things than you."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, turning his attention from her and straining to hear any sounds signifying that the pig and rooster were still alive. A faint 'oink' from the pig confirmed its status among the living.

"As I was saying," Bellatrix continued, her voice rising just enough to draw Harry's attention back to her, "my father, the Minister, will be able to pull strings. It's just a matter of you manipulating him and my uncle. They already want to give you a position in the Ministry. It won't be hard for you to manipulate them into getting you quickly promoted through the ranks. You have knowledge about the dark lord that no one has. You'll quickly prove your value. I wouldn't advise going into Magical Law Enforcement, though. I'm sure the work is rewarding, but climbing their career ladder will be tough. Don't get me wrong, you'll certainly become Minister of Magic no matter which department you start in, but I'd like that to be before you're fifty."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, only half listening to her drone on.

"As for what I can get out of my father," Bellatrix continued, pressing past Harry's obvious disinterest in the conversation, "I reckon we could get the contract negotiated and the marriage solemnized before I start seventh-year. Summer is always ideal for weddings, and we'll have enough times to consult the goblins about your unique Black status—without my family knowing what we're doing."

Harry did a double take. "What? Are you saying we should get married this summer? They don't just let random Hogwarts students get married to former professors. And what about there being even a hint of a romantic relationship?"

"My mother is going to cause trouble for sure, though," Bellatrix said darkly, ignoring Harry's shock and statements of protest. "You're not known as being rich, nor known as being an especially prominent pureblood. Not like the Lestranges, anyway." She was silent as she ruminated upon the subject of her mother.

Harry no longer wanted to participate in the conversation, but he could also see that she was dwelling on some unhappy thoughts. "So, trouble with your mother?"

"She's a piece of work," Bellatrix said, "she and my aunt."

"I see," said Harry, thinking back to the portrait of Sirius's mother he had confronted on numerous occasions. "I always got the feeling that you weren't on the best of terms with either of them." He couldn't really say that was entirely the case, but as he thought back, he could see where he might have inferred the fact.

"You have no idea," Bellatrix grumbled.

"What did they do," Harry asked, half in jest, "beat you?"

Bellatrix gave him a very annoyed look. "The pig and rooster seem okay. Let's go look at our kill." She stood and wandered around the walls Harry had transfigured toward the basilisk.

"I'm sorry," Harry called, backpedaling as he made to follow her, "I guess that's not that funny. I'm not trying to make light of bad parents or anything. You know, my aunt and uncle raised me and they were total jerks." He rounded the wall and found Bellatrix poking the dead basilisk's head with her foot.

"Yeah, it's dead," Bellatrix said. "Its eyes are even glazed over, too, so we probably don't need to worry about that."

"Wonderful," said Harry, surveying the corpse.

Bellatrix sighed. "We got a small fortune in potion ingredients here, but I just don't have the desire to deal with it tonight."

"It's a highly magical creature," Harry said. "It'll keep."

"Good point," Bellatrix nodded. "We can leave the chamber open down here and rig the bathroom entrance to open for non-parselmouths who have the specific password. I'll come down here when I have the time and motivation to do disgusting work."

"Awesome," said Harry, beginning to be very grossed out after staring at the dead basilisk. He didn't want to have anything to do with cutting it up and turning it into ingredients for anything.

"Yep," said Bellatrix. "Grab the pig and chicken, and we can get out of here."

"You don't want to leave them here?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "They'll probably cause trouble if we leave them."

It took a little maneuvering, but Harry and Bellatrix were soon in the bathroom and being eyeballed by Moaning Myrtle. "Did you kill it?" she asked, squinting at Harry and Bellatrix in an attempt to ascertain their identities. She was unsuccessful, however. They had cast disguise charms on themselves as they had flown the broomstick up the pipe.

"Yeah," said Harry, "it's dead, but let's keep it a secret for now. In fact, let's make you the chief guardian of the secret. Do you think you're up for it?"

Bellatrix snorted, apparently finding the conversation amusing. She didn't participate because she was busy casting a number of charms on the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets so that she could open it herself later.

"Of course," Myrtle said, her eagerness clearly reflected on her face.

"Great," said Harry. "Now, the only people you can tell anything about what has happened tonight are people who already know that the monster has been killed. They can't guess that it's dead, they have to know that it's been killed."

"Right," said Myrtle. "Killed. I promise to keep the secret."

"I think that concludes our business here," Bellatrix said as the entrance to the pipe closed up at her command. She kicked the pig they had levitated up the pipe with them and nudged it toward the entrance, the chicken under one of her arms.

Harry waved goodbye to Myrtle and followed Bellatrix as she exited the bathroom with the animals. They were soon standing out in the dark, empty corridor. Bellatrix handed Harry the chicken. "I think it's up to you to dispose of the chicken," Bellatrix announced. "Maybe you can give it to the gamekeeper . . . or the house elves in the kitchen."

"All right," Harry said, accepting the chicken. "What about the pig?"

"I'll take care of it," Bellatrix said to Harry.

"What are you planning?" Harry asked, curious as to why Bellatrix would want to keep a pig.

"If you keep your ears open, you might hear about it tomorrow," Bellatrix said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Minerva McGonagall rode the stairs up to Albus Dumbledore's office, deep in thought. When she found herself facing the door to the aged headmaster's office, she knocked and entered to find Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Alastor Moody sat in a chair in the corner, lounging casually.

"Professor," Alastor said by way of greeting, standing and nodding.

"Minerva," Albus smiled, proffering the bowl of lemon drops. "Thank you for coming."

"I was intrigued by your invitation," McGonagall said, accepting a lemon drop and taking one of the many seats that had been set up around the office. "Before more of your guests arrive, I wondered if I might ask a question."

"Of course," Albus said, spreading his hands, signifying his acquiescence.

Minerva leaned back in her seat. "Do you know of any way that a male student could get into the female dorms in Gryffindor Tower by somehow bypassing the protections?"

"I personally know of no way," Dumbledore said. "Why?"

"This morning," Minerva declared, "Miss Evans woke to find herself cuddling a pig."

"A pig?" Alastor asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," Minerva said dryly, "a full-sized pig that licked her face and made disgusting pig noises, causing her great distress and consternation."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled, "How extraordinary."

"How disgusting!" McGonagall said, correcting the headmaster. "The usual suspects have denied everything, citing the fact that they are completely unable to enter the female dorms. Unless it can be established that it is possible for males to get up there, they'll walk free."

Dumbledore shrugged and looked toward his office door expectantly. Almost immediately, a knock sounded, signifying the arrival of another person. "Enter," Dumbledore called.

The door opened to admit a man who appeared to be of a similar age to that of Dumbledore himself. The headmaster smiled warmly. "Elphias, how good of you to come. Minerva, Alastor, this you may or may not know is Elphias Doge. Elphias, this is Minerva McGonagall, my deputy, and Alastor Moody, an auror held in high esteem."

Elphias smiled. "Their reputations precede them."

Before he was seated, another knock sounded, marking the arrival of Caradoc Dearborn. Introductions resume and before they had concluded, Emmeline Vance arrived. Before long, Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon arrived. With their arrival, each of the chairs in the headmaster's office became occupied, and introductions were complete.

Conversation ceased as Dumbledore stood and held up his arms to signify that he wished to speak. He smiled at those gathered. "Friends," he said, "Alastor and I have asked each of you here because of your talents, your reputations, and your personalities. More importantly, we've asked you here because we know that each of you is the sort to do what you view as being right." Dumbledore scanned the faces before him, trying to gauge the prevailing atmosphere. Some of the guests looked curious, others seemed resigned, and others were thoughtful.

Dumbledore took a breath and continued. "I think I would be correct in saying that each of you has observed in the past months, even in the past year, the increasing lack of peace and civil order our country has witnessed. The rising generation is unruly and walking on the edge of disaster. The Ministry under various administrations is partly to blame. Because of its corruption, many of these problems have been left unchecked. Because of the corruption of previous administrations, the self-styled Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has been able to seize the reins of the government."

Caradoc Dearborn's eyes widened slightly, and he coughed with surprise. "Are you suggesting that we rebel against Minister Black?" he asked, disbelief and outrage evident in his voice.

"No, I am not," Dumbledore said sharply. "I am merely stating the facts."

"Then, please, continue," Emmeline Vance said.

"In the time since being installed into office, Minister Black has been busy," Dumbledore continued. "Davian Prewitt has been appointed Director of Magical Law Enforcement, and his budget has been substantially increased with emergency funds. Minister Black's proposed budget for the upcoming year shows that Director Prewitt's funding will not only continue, but increase."

Marlene McKinnon shook her head sadly. "What is he up to?"

"War, quite obviously," Ephias Doge declared.

"But against who?" Dorcas Meadowes asked.

"That is the mystery," Alastor Moody growled. "That's why we're here."

Dumbledore sighed resignedly. "It is not entirely a mystery anymore," he declared.

Alastor looked at Dumbledore with surprise. "I didn't realize you had gotten to the bottom of the matter already."

"I apologize, Alastor," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I only came across my information very recently. I assumed that telling you tonight along with everyone else would suffice, seeing that I have been very pressed for time in the days since my discovery."

"Continue, by all means," Moody said, dismissively waving his hand to signify that he was not offended in any way.

"By way of background," Dumbledore said, "I would call your attention to the appointment of Director Prewitt to his current position. One would assume that if a Black wished to wage a morally questionable war, he or she would appoint someone else to that key position. Yet, Minister Black chose Prewitt. This led me to the question of why. My conclusion is that the Black family knows something about our present difficulties that I do not."

Caradoc shook his head slowly. "That may be, but discovering their motivation will not be easy."

"But it is slightly easier than you would think," Dumbledore told the group at large. "As a part of their attempt to manage the situation, Orion Black has arranged for a young man named Harry Ashworth to temporarily assume a teaching position at Hogwarts. Mr. Ashworth is somewhat cognizant of the inner workings of the Black family."

"I see where you're going," Marlene McKinnon said, nodding.

Dumbledore nodded. "You are as perceptive as ever, Marlene." He shared a small smile with Alastor. "I recently had the opportunity to confront Mr. Ashworth and make some inquiries."

Dorcas held up her hand to interrupt Dumbledore. "Is this the same Ashworth who made headlines during the Christmas holidays for breaking up a public disturbance?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, confirming Dorcas's thought. "After I pressed Mr. Ashworth quite firmly, he finally saw fit to admit what it is that has the Black family so stirred up—and may I note, stirred up enough to go against their grain and boldly insert themselves into Ministry politics."

"Well, what is it?" Emmeline asked.

"It has come to the attention of the Black family that another dark lord is on the rise," Dumbledore announced in a quiet, deliberate voice. "Even now, they are preparing the Ministry's defenses to wage war against this nameless dark lord."

Professor Dumbledore's announcement was met with exclamations of surprise, shock, and disbelief.

"Surely it isn't so," Minerva breathed, her horror quite obvious.

Once the noise in the room settled enough for Dumbledore speak, he addressed the comments of doubt and disbelief. "Ashworth's information only confirms what I should have logically concluded," Dumbledore said. "It all makes sense. It explains everything odd that has happened of late." He then went on to make the case for the dark lord's existence."

"Well?" said Caradoc after Dumbledore finished making his proof of the dark lord's existence. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Move carefully," Dumbledore said, "but surely. I support Minister Black's effort to defend from and put down this dark lord, but I fear his efforts may not be enough. The Ministry's experiences with prior dark lords serve as testament to that thought. I propose that we start a private association, the purpose of which will be to oppose the dark lord and provide assistance to those wishing to bring him down. I think we might suitably call it the Order of the Phoenix."

~!~!~!~!~!

Moody watched as the last of Dumbledore's guests departed the headmaster's office, leaving him and Albus alone. It was then that he spoke to the aging headmaster who was in the process of sucking on a lemon drop. "I think the meeting was a success," he declared.

Dumbledore nodded, biting down and finishing off the lemon-flavored candy. "Indeed. I only hope the Order can prove useful. It won't be enough for those employed by the Ministry to make a career of fighting the dark lord. It must become the hobby of as many people as we can recruit."

"Are you going to recruit, Ashworth?" Moody asked, half in jest. "He certainly seems to know more than anyone about our situation, excepting the Black patriarchs themselves."

"No," said Dumbledore, "not recruit, though perhaps exploit as a source of information and as a connection to Minister Black."

"You're the one who has been so willing to think the best of him," Moody said, pointing out the irony of the situation. "Wouldn't you want to bring him in the Order and give him a chance to prove himself? He could become quite an asset to the Order. He's slimy, but that could be useful for us."

Dumbledore frowned. "When I extracted the information about the dark lord from Ashworth, he did his best to leave me thinking that he was naught but a pawn of the Black family, his fortune tossed upon the winds and waves of their politics as he tried to do what was reasonable for everyone and for his survival."

"What's wrong with that?" Moody asked.

"On the chessboard, I think he ranks much higher than he would have me believe," Dumbledore observed, reaching for another lemon drop.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Ashworth! Ashworth!"

Harry blinked groggily, as he was woken from a deep sleep. Squinting, he reached for his watch on his bedside table and checked the time. It was four o'clock in the morning.

"Ashworth!"

The loud voice seemed to be coming from his main sitting room. Rolling out of bed and slipping on a bathrobe, Harry hurried into the bedroom to find Romulus Malfoy's head floating in the fire, its flames burning green. As soon as Romulus caught sight of Harry, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Ashworth," he said urgently, his eyes meeting Harry's. "You must come to Cygnus's office at the Ministry immediately!"

"Why?" Harry asked, his heart beginning to race. "What has happened?"

Romulus sighed, and looked away from Harry, almost as if he didn't believe what he was about to say. "Orion is dead. It looks like he died in his sleep; but Harry, I'm not convinced."

20. Putting Your House in Order

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. With regard to Orion, he was in fact murdered.

Chapter 19

By

Lord Silvere

The lift clanged as it came to a halt, marking its arrival at the most illustrious floor of the Ministry of Magic—that which housed of the offices of the Minister of Magic. Though Harry's heart was still pounding from the shock of hearing that Orion had died, he could not help but yawn again and rub his eyes as he stepped of the lift and made his way down the hall, trying to remember the last time had visited the Ministry of Magic. It was too early in the morning for that kind of mental exercise.

Harry wasn't entirely sure where the Minister's offices were housed, but he reckoned that the ostentation for which the Ministry was somewhat famous would lead him. Also of potential guidance were the paintings of former Ministers of Magic chronologically lining the hall—all asleep in their respective frames.

Harry walked down the gently curving hall and soon came within sight of approximately a dozen aurors, all stationed outside of an office that probably belonged to Cygnus Black. Just as Harry came within earshot, the door opened and a tall man with graying auburn hair exited, shutting the door behind himself. As Harry approached, he found himself face to face with the man.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"Harry Ashworth," Harry responded. "I believe I am expected."

"I am Davian Prewitt, Mr. Ashworth."

Harry nodded, recognizing the name, as he looked up into the man's hard, aged features. Vaguely, Harry compared Prewitt to the cowboys he'd seen on Dudley's television shows. Both Prewitt and some of the tougher cowboys had appeared to be made of old leather and nails. The obvious exception was that Prewitt was impeccably dressed and had a distinctive British accent. Harry hoped to never find himself at odds with Director Prewitt. "It's good to meet you Director."

"Indeed," Prewitt said. "Minister Black is, in fact, expecting you." He then walked away, leaving Harry staring at the contingent of aurors that were serving as bodyguards for the recently bereaved Minister.

Harry passed the aurors and walked into Cygnus's office. He found the Minister sitting at his desk, looking very pale. Romulus Malfoy was angrily pacing back and forth behind the desk, occasionally pausing to look out the windows and down to the atrium below.

"It's about time you arrived," Romulus growled, pausing long enough to acknowledge Harry's entrance before returning to his angry pacing routine.

Realizing that Romulus, in addition to his grief over his family affairs, was under great stress, Harry opted to not take offense at his grouchy temperament. Rather, he turned his attention to Cygnus, the bereaved brother. "So, what are the exact details?"

Cygnus sighed. "Walburga discovered that he'd passed away in his sleep early this morning. That's all there seems to be to it."

"Well that's not all there is to it!" Romulus thundered. "Orion was healthy and strong."

Harry thought back to what Professor Dumbledore had told him regarding the original rise of Lord Voldemort. There had been many deaths and disappearances prior to the dark lord's inauguration as a public figure. It was possible that Orion had died naturally—he had not been especially young—but Harry wasn't about to be on it being a coincidence.

"I think," Harry said, taking a chair and drawing the attention of Malfoy and Minister Black to him, "that we had better assume that it was foul play and conduct ourselves based on that thought. However, there is no point in dwelling on the issue. Send an auror team over to the Black house and have them investigate. If they find anything, we can pursue the assassin. If they do not, we still assume that Orion was assassinated."

Seeing that he had the attention of both Cygnus and Romulus and seeing that they were nodding in agreement, Harry continued. "We are fighting a large-scale war against a dark lord. Sadly, one of our own friends has become a casualty. We must move forward as we fight this war lest his sacrifice be in vain."

"That makes sense," Cygnus said, happy to accept Harry's simplification of the issue. "Don't you agree, Romulus?"

"He speaks well," Romulus agreed, suddenly seeming very tired and distracted.

"Moving forward," Harry said, pressing his agenda, "it would appear that we need to take a number of actions. I see that you've already increased the number of your bodyguards. That is good. I suggest you continue that practice. Have you informed Director Prewitt that you fear the possibility of assassination?"

"Yes, yes," Romulus answered. "Davian agreed to step up the guard around Cygnus."

"Good," said Harry. "Now, for the overall war. I think we need to step up the focus on putting the Ministry itself in order. I fear that the dark lord will attempt to subvert the Ministry from the inside. There are, I'm sure, many who would thrive in an environment in which the dark lord is influential, even if they themselves never become a part of his ranks. You need to make sure these people are not in positions of power."

Cygnus nodded. "Yes, of course." He pulled out a piece of parchment and started taking notes.

"You need to make sure the people that are in power are good people—the sort that don't really seek for high office," Harry advised.

"Yes," said Cygnus, dipping his quill and scratching Harry's advice onto the parchment.

"Even innocent people can become tools," Romulus chipped in, his tone of voice rather dark and depressing.

"Exactly," Harry said. "The Imperius Curse is one way that the dark lord might try to cause trouble in the Ministry. You must take steps to ensure that it does not become a problem."

"Good idea," Cygnus declared, "but how do I do that?"

Harry shrugged. "You may need to consult with multiple departments on that one. Perhaps both Magical Law Enforcement and Mysteries. Tell them to find a way to quickly check whether someone is acting of their own accord or not. They'll understand what you're getting at."

"Department of Mysteries," Cygnus mumbled, writing it down on the parchment.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Director Prewitt stalked down the hallway and into the main lobby of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was empty, so his theatrics impressed no one. He entered his office and found Alastor Moody waiting for him. The auror arose from his chair and offered his hand. Prewitt shook it and assumed his spot behind his desk.

"You asked for me to come in?" Alastor said.

"I did," Prewitt said. "Orion Black has croaked, or perhaps, has been croaked."

Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is foul play suspected?"

"By some people," Prewitt muttered.

Moody nodded. "I can see it both ways. What do you think happened?"

"I don't know," Prewitt admitted. "I don't really care, either. I'm more concerned about the consequences."

"Consequences?"

"As we speak, Minister Black is holed up with Romulus Malfoy and Harry Ashworth. You can guarantee those two are the ones calling the shots now. I imagine that Minister Black is happy that someone has already stepped into the vacancy left by his older brother," Prewitt said.

"What would you like me to do?" Moody asked. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Prewitt's scathing comments about the conniving of Malfoy and Ashworth. Prewitt himself was quite the conniver. There was also the fact that Dumbledore needed to be informed as soon as possible about the events within the Ministry and that wouldn't happen if Moody spent all morning listening to Prewitt.

Prewitt glared at Moody. "I want you to poke around into Orion's death and see if you can find any sign of foul play. Merlin knows that Minister Black will want to know. I also want you to poke your nose into the business of Romulus Malfoy and Harry Ashworth. I have it on good authority that Harry Ashworth is not an Ashworth. He is here in England on false pretenses. I warned Orion, but he apparently chose to ignore me.

"As you wish," Moody said. "If you would be so kind as to forward to my desk any information you do have about Ashworth, that would be useful." He then rose from his seat and exited the office.

~!~!~!~!~!

"All right," said Cygnus, "I think I can handle things from this end. Romulus, please keep your ear to the ground. You're more connected to folk who are likely to know the most about the dark lord. Harry, I think you'd better plan on leaving Hogwarts for good once the term is over. I will need you here at the Ministry. Is there anything else we should address before you both leave?"

"I think we've discussed all there is to discuss," Harry said, pulling a small watch from his pocket and glancing at it. It appeared that there would be enough time for him to make his morning class. "As long as you make sure the ranking Ministry officials are clean and direct them to ensure their underlings are clean, I think you'll avoid many problems."

Romulus stood and straightened his robes. "There is one last thing that I would like to bring up. From the experience of this tragedy, it has become clear to me that we need a better way to communicate. It took me far too long to get ahold of Harry, though it was no fault of his own."

"What do you propose?" Cygnus asked.

Romulus pulled from his pocket two gold rings. The bands were wide and looked heavy. Set in the top of each ring was a black stone or perhaps jewel. "These are family heirlooms," he announced. "I've of course had them purged of dark magic. The important thing is that they are tied to my own family ring." The Malfoy patriarch held up his right hand and displayed the ring that marked him as the Head of House Malfoy. It closely resembled the two rings he had produced from his pocket. He then gave one of the rings to Cygnus and the other to Harry. "Through these rings, we can communicate, or at least, you both can communicate with me. I haven't had enough time to figure out how to get your rings to communicate with each other."

Harry accepted the ring and examined it, pushing up his glasses and bringing the ring close to his eyes. "How precious," he commented as he held it. Close inspection revealed that the jewel was not quite what it seemed. Instead of a solid, crystalline color, Harry observed what seemed to a swirling mist inside of the jewel. It seemed rather like a foe glass. Abruptly, a figure coalesced inside of the jewel—Romulus's face.

"I would communicate vocally through the jewel," Romulus told Harry, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder, "but doing so right now would make me feel silly, what with us all being in the same room."

Harry smiled, "Of course. Now, how do I communicate with you?"

"It's rather simple," Romulus said, temporarily taking the ring back from Harry as Cygnus observed closely. "Take the jewel and twist it." He demonstrated, showing that the jewel could rotate on its setting. "It will send a jolt to my ring and I'll open up communication."

"Our rings can't open up communication to yours?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid not. The Malfoy who owned and used the rings originally didn't want the other rings to be used to spy on him. Perhaps if the system works out, we can investigate ways to improve it. For now, I think this will do for our purposes," Romulus said.

Cygnus nodded. "I like it."

Harry showed his approval by slipping the ring onto one of his fingers. "I assume I'll feel a jolt when you need to speak with me?"

Romulus nodded and tapped his ring. Almost immediately, Harry felt a small tug on his hand.

"Excellent," observed Harry. "Now, I must really return to Hogwarts. I haven't arranged for anyone to teach my classes today."

"Right," said Malfoy. He nodded to Cygnus. "I too must be going."

Harry and Romulus left Cygnus alone at his desk, exited the office, and made their way down to the elevator. While they were waiting for the lift to come and fetch them, Romulus again put his hand on Harry's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to scare you, Harry," Romulus said, "but these rings are very important—not just one of my flights of fancy. Cygnus's life could be in danger. In fact, all of our lives are in danger."

"I understand that," Harry said blandly, returning the Malfoy patriarch's gaze.

"Good," said Romulus. "Now, Harry, starting today, I want you to spend every free moment drilling on your magical fighting skills. Focus on the easiest and most potent spells you can. Develop some patterns for shooting off spells in quick succession, but don't become locked into the patterns. When you're bored, develop some more fancy spells that might be used to surprise someone in a duel. Press yourself to the limit. Understand?"

"Of course," said Harry, mentally reminding himself that he would definitely need to step things up a notch.

"Good," said Romulus. "I'm going to do some training myself. I'll see if I can't sharpen up my old dueling skills."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

The Saturday morning that arrived a number days following Orion's death found Harry at his desk grading essays. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He had obeyed Romulus's advice and had spent as much time as possible after classes each day drilling in the Room of Requirement. He had required the room to do its best to simulate some of the worst battle scenes he had witnessed in the future. The room had created hundreds of practice dummies with the ability to shoot stinging spells and had set those dummies to swarming around Harry—some of them trying to target him, others fighting imaginary targets.

The sheer volume of magic Harry had used to neutralize the dummies, the focus required to pick out specific targets or enact intricate charms, and the repeated stings from dummies that had gotten through had left Harry quite exhausted. His only comfort was that he was getting better. Admittedly, dummies weren't the real thing, but the stamina required was real, and Harry's was growing.

Bellatrix had been strangely absent for most of the week. She had greeted the news of Orion's death with suspicion and a few words that Harry though could have been sadness, but had seemed too otherwise occupied to sit down and be depressed. Harry assumed that the fast-approaching end of term had burdened her. There was a month or so left before the summer holidays. Harry knew that Hermione would be well into her revisions by this time in the school year.

Interestingly, Harry had felt rather lonely without her constantly in his office or lounging on his couch. He had even gone so far as to inviting her to a practice duel in the Room of Requirement. She had seemed pleased with his new training regime, but had declined his offer, saying that she was preoccupied for the week.

Thus, when Bellatrix opened the door to his office and strode in with a medium-sized carrying case, Harry felt rather pleased. "Ready to go?" she asked, closing the door behind herself.

Harry looked at her, feeling rather puzzled. She was dressed in black robes, though they were not the standard school robes. These were decorated with black velvet. "Go where?" he asked.

Bellatrix sighed. "I was afraid of that. Aunt Walburga didn't invite you, did she?"

Harry frowned, trying to logically deduct what Bellatrix was talking about. "You mean to the funeral?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "Orion's funeral is today. I strongly suspected that my aunt would not invite you, but there was always hope."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't want to intrude anyway."

Bellatrix snickered, "I wish I had that excuse. No disrespect for Uncle Orion, but it sounds like Aunt Walburga is going to make this a family affair. I can't say I'm excited to attend. She's going to want to establish herself as the head of the Black family—the matriarch if you will. The poor man won't have a chance to settle in his grave."

Harry abandoned his essays and sat back in his chair, thinking. "Shouldn't Sirius be the one to inherit everything?"

"Normally, yes," Bellatrix said. "However, Aunt Walburga was already a Black when she married Orion. It was a clever move on her part. By marriage she became closest, Black blooded, relative Orion had. She has every right to believe that she's the head of the Black family, now."

Harry squinted suspiciously at Bellatrix. "Theoretically, I'm a head of the Black family, or Lord Black, as some would say it. You're a Black, and you're constantly talking about a marriage between the two of us. Sounds like you're a pretty clever witch yourself."

Bellatrix shrugged, maintaining an extremely casual expression. "I won't deny it, though I would like to say that's not the entire reason I want to marry you. But moving on, there's no point talking marriage until we see how things end up with regard to the affairs of the Black family. You needn't get overly worried about marriage yet."

"I'm happy that there's no pressure," Harry said. "Good luck with the funeral."

"Actually," said Bellatrix, "I was hoping you would escort me to the funeral."

"I seem to recall that I was not invited," Harry observed, glancing at his stack of essays and reminding himself of all the productive things he should be doing.

"You aren't," Bellatrix confirmed. "I would appreciate you at least taking me as far as cemetery, though. After that, I have some errands I was hoping you'd run for me. We can meet afterward for you to take me home."

Harry mulled over his options. Did he want to grade papers or get out of the castle and spend a little time with Bellatrix? A number of months ago, the answer would have been grading. Now, it seemed like Bellatrix was a better bet for enjoyment. "All right, I'll go," said Harry.

"Great," said Bellatrix. "Let's get going. I promised Sirius that you'd take him with us. He's waiting out in the hall."

"What about your sisters or Regulus?" Harry asked. His mind flashed to the times he had taught them in class. He didn't feel any close connection to those members of the Black family, but he didn't want to leave them in the cold.

Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively. "Walburga has made arrangements. Sirius and I weren't anxious to participate, so we're leaving early."

"All right," Harry said, not minding the opportunity to spend some time with his young godfather.

It didn't take long before Harry, Bellatrix, and Sirius were walking across the Hogwarts grounds and down to the main gate. Bellatrix had foisted her carrying case on Harry and was chatting amicably about a number of topics. Sirius was silent. Harry wondered whether Sirius had gotten along with his father better than his mother. Harry couldn't seem to recall Sirius saying much about his father in the future.

They reached the gates and were ready to apparate. Bellatrix gave Harry instructions so that he could side-along apparate Sirius. She would be apparating on her own. Harry vaguely wondered why it was she felt it was necessary for him to escort her to the funeral when she was perfectly capable of going herself.

They appeared in some woods, not far from what obviously was a cemetery. The cemetery appeared to be rather rundown. Though the various graves and monuments were impressive, the plant life was abundant. Instinctively, Harry scanned their surroundings for any sign of life. There was none.

"Well, here we are," Bellatrix announced, a little too brightly. "There's enough time before other folks arrive for you to find a nice hiding spot, Sirius. Have fun."

Sirius rolled his eyes and wandered off and soon completely disappeared from sight. He seemed to have understood that Bellatrix wanted to be alone with Harry. Harry felt rather guilty for not paying more attention to Sirius at his father's funeral, but Bellatrix was running the show.

"This is the ancient resting place of the Black family," Bellatrix said to Harry, making like she was being a tour guide while Sirius was still in earshot.

"Looks like you folks put effort into the upkeep," Harry commented. "Do you visit often?"

Bellatrix frowned at him. "It has fallen into decay in recent years," she admitted. She gestured through the forest beyond the graveyard. "If you look carefully, you'll be able to spot some stone walls. More like ruins, actually. That's what remains of Ravenbourgh, the ancestral Black manor."

"I never heard of Ravenbourgh," Harry said, surprised at the new information.

"Not many people have," Bellatrix said. "The Blacks have always preferred to be city dwellers, or rather, to reside near the seat of government power. Ravenbourgh was neglected in favor of Grimmauld Place. Eventually, it burned down. Had the family been in residence, it might have been saved from the flames. Being the city dwellers that we are, no effort has been made to rebuild. Because Ravenbourgh no longer stands, there is no longer a staff of house elves to visit occasionally. Consequently, there is no one to maintain the graveyard."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever."

"I thought you wanted to know why we neglect the graveyard."

"I'm more interested in hearing what these errands you have for me are," Harry said.

"What? Do you think they are nefarious or something?"

"Well, I don't know," said Harry. "It is you."

"Ha, ha," Bellatrix said. She pointed at the carrying case Harry had been drafted into carrying for her. "You're going to take the contents of the case and sell them to the apothecary in Knockturn Alley."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You've been down in the Chamber of Secrets, haven't you? That's why you've been busy all week."

"Yes," Bellatrix said. "Harvesting that monster's venom wasn't so hard, but getting the skin and guts has been impossible. It's going to take months to get it all. Seeing as I'm the one going through all the misery of harvesting it, I think we should split the money 70/30.

"You seem to forget that you would have never known the basilisk existed without me," Harry grumbled.

"60/40?" Bellatrix proposed.

"50/50," Harry said. "You're the one always talking about us being fair partners, and let's not forget your plans for our marriage. If we do get married, won't the split be irrelevant?"

"Well, I don't know," Bellatrix shot back, "are you going to marry me or not?"

"Let's worry about that later," Harry said, hefting the case and preparing to apparate to Knockturn Alley.

"Fine," said Bellatrix, "50/50."

"Good," said Harry.

"One last thing," Bellatrix said before Harry could apparate away.

"What?"

She held up a Gringotts key. "Deposit my share into my bank account, please. While you're at it, why don't you open up an account of your own? It is a simple process. You can't keep hiding your gold in your trunk. Either you'll run out of room or someone will steal it."

"How do you know I keep my gold in my trunk?" Harry demanded, accepting the key from Bellatrix.

Bellatrix smiled mischievously and waved goodbye. "Have fun. Wait for me at that Muggle bookstore across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. The funeral and family formalities should last for about two hours, maybe more."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The clerk at Knockturn Alley's apothecary ultimately tried to take the basilisk venom and skin off of Harry's hands for far less than the actual worth. Luckily, Harry had stopped at the apothecary in Diagon Alley and had inquired after the price of said ingredients as if he himself was a potential buyer. The manager had apprised Harry of the current selling price of basilisk parts. From there Harry had gone onto Knockturn Alley, and, after some slippery bargaining, had sold the contents of Bellatrix's case for slightly less than market value, leaving a tidy, albeit deserved, profit margin for the apothecary. They, after all, didn't ask Harry where he had come across the items he was selling.

He then carried the hefty bag of gold into Diagon Alley and toward Gringotts. As usual, the goblins that guarded the front door left Harry alone and he passed inside. Harry had not had many opportunities to visit Gringotts in either the future or the past. He admired the interior architecture as he waited in line to see a teller and wondered if the goblins did their own building or had hired some other magical creature. Harry couldn't imagine them hiring witches or wizards if they didn't have to.

It was soon Harry's turn to see a teller. He stepped up to the window. "Good morning," he said, feeling a little nervous.

The goblin arched what passed as an eyebrow, "What is it you want?"

Harry set the bag of gold on the counter and held out Bellatrix's vault key. "I need to deposit half of this money into this account."

The goblin stared at Harry for a moment, but finally hefted the bag before placing it on a scale. Noting the bag's exact weight, the goblin wrote the key number and monetary amount on a small piece of parchment that Harry supposed was a deposit slip and then signed it. "And the other half of the money?" the goblin asked.

Harry fidgeted, wondering what the goblin would do if he requested that the bag be divided so he could walk out of the bank with it. Eventually, he decided that the goblin would be more than annoyed. There was also the truth that Bellatrix's advice was sage. "I'd like to deposit the second half into a new account," Harry declared.

The goblin said nothing, but wrote out another parchment deposit slip and handed it to Harry. "Speak with the goblin at the new accounts desk," he said.

Harry accepted the parchment and nodded to the goblin as respectfully as he could. "Thank you, sir. You've been most helpful."

The goblin was preoccupied with taking the bag and dropping it into a mine cart, and thus did not respond.

Harry wandered over to the new accounts desk, holding his deposit slip. A goblin sat behind it, reading a newspaper. Apparently, the bank did not see a large number of new accounts on a daily basis. Either that, or Saturday was just a slow day for the bank. Harry cleared his throat. "I'd like to open an account," he said.

The goblin sighed from behind the newspaper, set it down, and gave Harry a fake smile. "What would you like to deposit?"

Harry handed the deposit slip to the goblin.

The goblin examined it minutely as if he suspected it was a forgery, which Harry thought was rather ridiculous. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen his fellow goblin fill out for Harry only moments prior. "Very well. How much money do you anticipate holding in your account from day to day?"

"Probably about that much," Harry replied, taking into account the fact that he generally spent most of his salary on a regular basis. On the other hand, he was going to be working for the Ministry soon. "Maybe a little more."

"Any non-monetary possessions?"

"No."

"Very well. We'll need a blood sample," the goblin announced.

Having expected this, Harry held out a finger. The goblin was deft and soon had a sample of Harry's blood on a special parchment. The blood sank in and writing appeared. The goblin read the writing and then squinted at Harry, clearly not pleased. "If you'll excuse me, I must speak with the bank manager." He then stood up and stiffly walked away from the desk and down a corridor, carrying the blood parchment and Harry's deposit slip.

Harry sighed, wondering if opening an account was this difficult as a rule. The goblin soon returned with another two goblins. "These two goblins will escort you to visit with Goldspear, our bank manager," he announced.

"Right," said Harry, standing and allowing himself to be escorted down the same hall the new account goblin had disappeared into.

Harry was soon shown into the bank manager's office. The goblin Harry assumed to be Goldspear was sitting at very large, but low desk in a chair with an extremely high back. Harry would have found the sight comical if it weren't for the look of sheer anger on the goblin's face.

"Leave us," he snapped to the goblins that had escorted Harry in. As soon as they had disappeared behind closing doors, Goldspear the goblin snapped at Harry. "Sit." In front of him were the two pieces of parchment, though he was not looking at them.

Harry was confused and nervous, but he tried to make the best of the situation as he took a seat. "Good morning," he said.

"You think you're funny, do you?" Goldspear snapped.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, "but you'll have to explain why you're angry with me." Deep down, a suspicion was growing, however. The blood test must have told them more than he had expected.

The goblin clenched his teeth and then closed his eyes for ten seconds. When he opened them, he was still glaring, but his voice was eerily calm. "I am angry about the facts that you are the head of House Black, that you have travelled from the future, and that you have wandered around this time period without checking in with us. Do you have any idea how much trouble you have just caused us?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "The time travel was an accident, and I didn't know that it was correct procedure to check in with Gringotts in such a situation. How did you know I was from the future?"

Goldspear rolled his eyes. "If you were a Lord Black in the past, nobody would have inherited the title after your disappearance into time. Thus, the only way for there to be, or rather, have been, two Lord Blacks is if one came from the future."

"Oh. So what do we do now?"

"Well, I don't know, Lord Black. Had you come in earlier, we might have found a way to resolve it easily and at our leisure. As it is, I have the entire Black family coming in shortly to hear the last will and testament of Orion Black. Your existence renders the will null and void."

"Okay," said Harry thinking of the Black family. "Is there a way we can keep my being the head of House Black private?"

The bank manager scowled at him. "On such short notice, it would be difficult."

"I guess we could surprise them," Harry said.

"Yeah? And reveal to them that you're a time traveler? You seem to forget that one of the Blacks happens to be Minister of Magic. If anyone discovers your little time travel faux pas, you'll be in deep trouble. There's also the fact that many of the Blacks are murderers. How long do you think you would last?"

"I'm surprised you care," Harry grumbled.

The goblin shrugged. "It would be troublesome for us, too."

"So what do you suggest?" Harry said, his thoughts racing about he could best cope with the situation.

The goblin sat back in his chair and steepled his stubby fingers. Abruptly, he separated his hands and jabbed a button on his desk. The doors opened, and a goblin peeked in. "Fetch me the Black account file," the bank manager commanded.

He then gazed at Harry as the other goblin retreated. "I suggest that you outline a new last will and testament for Orion Black. We'll compose it into formal language and read it to the Black heirs when they arrive. When the topic of control of House Black comes up, we'll declare that we cannot move forward on putting a new person in power for a while. When Orion's widow inquires later, we'll inform her that the control of House Black was bequeathed to another. End of story. After that, you'll probably want to hire bodyguards, though we will try to prevent her from discovering your identity."

"You're too kind," Harry said.

"Indeed," said the goblin. He produced a blank parchment, quill, and ink from a desk drawer and then pushed them across the desk toward Harry. "Start bequeathing."

"I don't even know what the Black family assets are," Harry complained.

The door opened and admitted the goblin that had been sent to fetch the file. The bank manager accepted it and quickly thumbed through it, outlining the financial status of the Black family for Harry. The liquid assets, property assets, and investments were quickly reviewed. Harry was surprised at the wealth of the Black family. What he had originally inherited from Sirius had not been nearly so much.

Harry took the quill and scratched out a few brief directions and then handed the parchment over to the bank manager. Goldspear accepted the parchment and examined it critically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but you have to leave something for the widow or she will have grounds to challenge the will—not that it is a will, but I assume you don't want anyone digging into what has happened."

"Whoops," said Harry, taking the parchment back. He stared at it for several moments, reluctant to give Walburga Black much of anything. "How much do I have to give her?"

"I advise something above the official poverty level."

"What is the poverty level?" Harry asked.

The bank manager cited the current poverty level.

"That's not very much," Harry sighed, his tendency to be noble suddenly coming into play. "Let's give her double the poverty level."

"Fine," said Goldspear.

"Is that all?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Goldthirst. "I don't want to deal with your account any more than I have to. Come back some other time. Your account manager will assist you in reviewing your assets and give you advice for your investments."

"Right," said Harry, trying to sound thankful. "One last question. Is there going to be trouble with the Potter estate?"

The goblin shook his head. "No. They're not stupid enough to manage their money in the same way the ancient houses do. You can't touch their money."

Harry shrugged. "Okay. I was just curious."

~!~!~!~!

Harry was thumbing through a book when the bell on the Muggle bookshop's door tinkled, signaling the entrance of another customer. He looked up and found Bellatrix walking toward him, a bright smile on her face. The black mourning dress was gone, replaced by some Muggle-style clothes.

"You look awfully cheerful for someone who just got out of a funeral," Harry said drily.

"There was a stop at the bank," Bellatrix said, still beaming a radiant smile. "My dear, departed Uncle Orion bequeathed ten thousand galleons to me."

"How kind of him," Harry said, placing the book he had been examining back on the shelf.

Bellatrix laughed. "You should have seen Aunt Walburga's outrage, Harry. You did well, very well."

"What do you mean?"

"It was you, Harry. You now have control of the Black fortune, don't you?"

Harry frowned and motioned for her to follow him out of the store. They were soon standing out on the London street in across from the Leaky Cauldron. "You deliberately sent me to the bank for that purpose, didn't you?" he said in an accusatory voice.

"You can't complain," said Bellatrix, still sounding very pleased with herself. "We're rich, Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so. How did the rest of the family react? Is there going to be any trouble? The goblins weren't happy with the situation."

Bellatrix grinned. "Well, Aunt Walburga isn't as rich as she had previously anticipated. In fact, for the first time, my mother will have more spending money. That should change family dynamics. On the other hand, you did leave a monthly allowance for Sirius and Regulus. She may try to seize control of that."

"Not good," Harry said. "I guess I'll have to speak with the bank about that."

"Sirius can take care of himself," Bellatrix said. "As for Regulus, if he's stupid enough to let Walburga at his allowance, he deserves to be poor."

Harry shook his head, smiling.

"The family was very suspicious about Orion bequeathing me ten thousand galleons and then only a nominal amount for my sisters and parents in a lump sum," Bellatrix commented. She then grew a little more serious. "There is one thing I am curious about, Harry."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"You gave Walburga the right to reside at Grimmauld Place and then specified that her death, Sirius was to inherit it. That's the family home. Why didn't you find a way to keep it for us?" Bellatrix asked.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He sighed, wondering how much to tell her. "Suffice it to say, I have unpleasant memories of Grimmauld Place. I'd rather avoid it. I'm sure we can find a better place to live in the future."

Bellatrix shrugged. "All right."

"Shall we get back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Where is Sirius?"

"I already dropped him back at the castle gate," Bellatrix said.

"You could have saved yourself a trip and picked me up first," Harry observed.

Bellatrix smiled and wrapped her arms around Harry. She then kissed him firmly, before pulling back. "I don't want to go back to the castle yet, Harry. I want to go eat at the fanciest Muggle restaurant in London," she declared. "Then, I want to go shopping."

Harry laughed weakly. "All right."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry rose from his seat in the Great Hall and departed from dinner, nodding to the various students with which he was more closely acquainted. It had about a week and a half since Harry had assumed control of the Black estate and had then spent the rest of the day splurging on food, shopping, and entertainment in London with Bellatrix, courtesy of a Gringotts credit card ascribed as belonging to the Bank of Lower London.

He was preparing to return to his office and finish grading essays when he felt the ring on his finger twitch. Harry moved quickly to an obscure alcove and brought the ring close to his eye. Romulus's face was in it. "Romulus?" he said quietly.

"The dark lord has conducted a raid in a Scottish town," Romulus said resignedly. "Wizards and witches dressed and masked in black commenced terrorizing both magical and non-magical folk in the town about twenty minutes ago. Cygnus has dispatched the balance of the Ministry's aurors. We think it might be good if you could nip up there and investigate. The bulk of the battle will be over by now."

Harry nodded sadly. It seemed that Voldemort was beginning his campaign in earnest. "I'll go," he said.

"Good," said Romulus. "Try to see what you can learn. You're fairly observant. The auror in charge is Alastor Moody. You should probably check in with him before you start wandering around the town. The last thing you need is to get hit by friendly spellfire." Romulus then gave him the directions to the village.

It took Harry several minutes to make it to the front gate from where he could apparate to the town. When he arrived, there were a number of people swarming around: aurors, Ministry officials, mediwizards and mediwitches, and residents. It appeared that the attack had completely dispersed.

"Mr. Ashworth, what brings you here?"

Harry spun around and spotted Alastor Moody eying him with suspicion.

"The Minister thought it might be good for me to have a look around," Harry said.

"Really," Moody said.

"You can take it up with him if you want, Mr. Moody," Harry said.

Moody shook his head slightly, indicating he wasn't about to take it that far, though a twisted smile indicated he was going to continue being suspicious of Harry. "Let me show you around, then. You can tell the Minister all about the situation."

"Thank you," said Harry, placing a slightly sarcastic inflection into his voice, despite his gratitude for Moody volunteering to show him around.

Moody led Harry through the crowds, occasionally pointing out where some especially bad damage had been inflicted and telling Harry about various injuries that had been sustained. To Harry's somewhat practiced eye, it appeared the tactics employed by the Death Eaters were sporadic at best.

Moody seemed to have made the same observation. "The culprits dispersed almost as soon as Ministry reinforcements appeared," he told Harry. "I'm not sure what the dark lord was hoping to accomplish."

Harry frowned, wondering if Moody was officially supposed to know about the dark lord. "Dark lord?" Harry asked.

Realizing his mistake, Moody could only glare at Harry. He had too much dignity to try and cover up his slip ineffectually, so he continued pushed forward. "Don't try to snow me, Ashworth. I know you know, and as you can see, I know more than you would think. You tell Minister Black that this dark lord is a sly one. If Black wants to prevail, he had better attempt to get into the dark lord's mind. Bulking up the auror corps is good, but I don't think it will win the day."

Harry shrugged. "I'll of course relay your message to the Minister."

"See that you do," Moody growled.

"Mr. Ashworth," came another voice.

Harry turned his head and caught sight of Director Prewitt approaching. "Good evening, Director."

"It's anything but," Prewitt retorted, looking and sounding very crotchety.

"Of course," said Harry. "I only meant to greet you."

"Indeed," said Prewitt. "Do you have official business here?"

Harry pursed his lips. He could push the thought that he was here observing for Cygnus, but he didn't think that would go over very well. He had already seen all he needed, courtesy of Moody, and didn't want to create any unnecessary friction. "My business is concluded," said Harry.

"Then please vacate the area," Prewitt directed.

"As you wish," Harry said, nodding politely.

21. The Fall of a Great House

A/N: Your reviews are great. Thank you!

Chapter 20

By

Lord Silvere

"Events have become slightly grimmer since the Order's inaugural meeting," Professor Dumbledore declared, surveying those gathered in his office.

Elphias Doge, Caradoc Dearborn, Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, Minerva McGonagall, and Alastor Moody each sat in the same chairs they had occupied at the original meeting. However, there were now two more chairs. Edgar Bones and Dedalus Diggle had been recruited. The first business of the meeting had involved bringing them up to speed. Now, Dumbledore was proceeding with what he planned on being normal business at all Order meetings.

"It would appear that Ashworth's information was correct," Dorcas mused.

"To a degree, at least," Marlene amended. "From what I have heard, none of those who attacked that town appeared to posses the status of dark lord."

Elphias Doge shook his head. "The dark lord was not seen," he said, "but those ruffians could not have possibly organized themselves. Their disturbance fell apart almost as soon as it began. There are a handful of witnesses who even attest that many of the attackers were drunk. They could not have been organized as much as they were without someone else. The question we need to ask should not regard this dark lord's existence. Rather, the question must address his motives."

"All right," said Emmeline, "why did the dark lord choose to show his face? And, let's take it a step forward. Why was the attack staged in the first place? Nothing was achieved."

Alastor leaned forward and entered the conversation. "On the battlefield, there can be many motives, some of them having nothing to do with anything that happens in proximity to the fight."

"He's right," Dedalus Diggle said, supporting Moody.

Emmeline rolled her eyes. "Then tell me, what was achieved by attacking the town?"

Dumbledore was about to jump into the conversation and smooth things over before a heated debate could break out among the Order members, but Edgar Bones cleared his throat first and spoke in a deep voice. "Friends, we must remember that a true dark lord is more than a common criminal. He is a terrorist, a general, a politician, and a practitioner of terrible, but great, magic."

"You speak well, Edgar," Dumbledore observed. "You are also correct. The attack on the village may have been a test of the Ministry's ability to respond to such attacks."

Caradoc twisted his lips distastefully. "The dark lord would have done better to keep the element of surprise on his side. Now, Director Prewitt knows that Minister Black isn't paranoid. The aurors will be more prepared now than they would have been."

This time, Alastor did not lean forward in his seat. "The dark lord would have anticipated that the move would lose him the element of surprise," he pointed out. "What does this gain him, do you all think?"

"Perhaps if he has a weightier objective in mind," Edgar observed slowly, "knowledge of how the Ministry forces react is more valuable than the element of surprise."

"Except that we now know how his forces work, too," Dorcas said.

"Do we?" Moody asked. "Or did we see what he wanted us to see?"

Dumbledore held up one of his hands. "At this point, it is useless for us to speculate. There are many possible motives. If we focus on our favorites, we may miss the true one. The only thing we can really do is plan how to react if a similar incident occurs."

"Are you suggesting we organize resistance?" Marlene inquired.

"That may not be necessary," Dumbledore said. "Alastor, what do you know about the Ministry's preparations?"

"They're very good," Moody responded. "Director Prewitt knows what he's doing. However, he is turning out to posses a very abrasive personality. On the other hand, you can't deny that he's grabbed this challenge by the horns. Our department protocols have already been altered so as to increase our response time dramatically. Then of course, he's making full use of our budget to increase the size of the auror corps. I don't think the Order needs to worry about providing fighting power."

Everyone murmured their comments of approval quietly.

"Is there anything else of interest in the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked.

Moody hesitated. "There may be internal strife. Director Prewitt appears to feel that Minister Black may not be fit to serve as Minister now that Orion is dead. His opinion is quite evident in some of the things he has said and done."

"I should think Prewitt would seize the opportunity to fill Orion's advisory role," Emmeline commented drily.

"That's the problem, I think," Moody responded. "The post has been filled, and not by Prewitt."

"Who, then?" Edgar asked.

Moody shrugged. "By all appearances, it would be Ashworth. Perhaps Romulus Malfoy, though the man seems too distracted to do much of anything. On the morning after Orion's death, the Minister had a closed conference with Malfoy and Ashworth. Almost immediately after they departed, Minister Black started putting a new round of policies into place. The Minister seems concerned that this dark lord might find ways to infiltrate the Ministry."

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a significant glance before speaking. "It would appear that Mr. Ashworth is more than just some underling of the Black family."

"Or perhaps the Minister is desperate for advisors he already knows he can trust," Dorcas offered.

"Yeah, it would appear so," Moody said. "You may want to see whether Slughorn is ready to come back from sick leave, Albus."

"Why's that?" Dumbledore asked.

"Black sent Ashworth to personally observe the aftermath of the attack on that village," Moody informed everyone. "Prewitt was very annoyed that Black bypassed normal channels. However, I suspect that it was a sign of things to come. We may see Ashworth assume a very senior position in the Minister's administration soon."

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said quietly. He sat in his chair silently, contemplating events. The Order watched him, unsure of what to say or where to go. Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "I can't help but get the feeling that we are missing some vital information about how things are truly functioning with the Black family and their friends. The death of Orion has made things even more curious. Has the Ministry been able to discover more surrounding the events of his death? Was there foul play?"

Everyone looked to Moody for the answer. Moody shrugged. "Officially, we have been unable to discover anything. There was no evidence of foul play on the corpse, though that would have easily been hidden by magic. His widow has not been cooperative, either."

"Maybe you should arrest her for the murder until she cooperates," Emmeline said.

"Unfortunately, she's prepared for that eventuality," Moody grumbled. "She willingly submitted to a truth serum and declared that she did not kill her husband."

"What about her sister-in-law?" Minerva asked. "Everyone knows those two are thick as thieves."

Moody nodded in agreement. "It is an admitted fact that she was at the house that night. However, she too took the truth serum and denied that she killed Orion. Once they were above suspicion, their cooperation with the investigators ended."

"His death achieved little for them," Caradoc interjected, preparing to argue that their innocence made sense.. "The rumors are that when the estate was settled, control of the Black fortune did not pass to Walburga or either of Orion's sons."

"Cygnus, then?" Minerva asked.

"I don't know," Caradoc replied.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It would appear that facts are not going to give us clues about Orion's death. We should move on. We have other matters on which we must make decisions. Perhaps we can all keep our ears open for more information. I am particularly interested in knowing who now controls the Black fortune."

"Agreed," intoned Edgar. "I can make some discreet inquiries. The goblins are secretive by nature and work hard to maintain that reputation, but they may inadvertently drop some information. What do you wish to address next?"

"We need to discuss recruitment," Dumbledore said. "Our numbers need to increase, I think. It should be easier now that the dark lord has shown his hand to the public. We also need to discuss where we are to hold future meetings. I'm not sure that Hogwarts is the most practical place."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair, wishing he had not declined Romulus's offer of a glass of firewhiskey. He had wanted to avoid downing his sense so that he would be at the top of his game if he had time to practice his fighting strategies in the Room of Requirement later that night. He glanced across a short conference table toward Cygnus who was shuffling through one of many folders filled with sheets of parchment.

Romulus was up and pacing the room as he sipped on his own glass of firewhiskey. It was a rectangular room and sat on one of the upper floors of Malfoy Manor. Delicate windows lined one wall while a single fireplace sat in the center of the other wall.

"I suppose we can move on from our discussion regarding proposed tax increases," Cygnus said, making it sound more like a proposal than a decision.

Romulus waved his hand dismissively. "We can come back to it," he said. "Have your bureaucrats make up some reports about possible ways to shift the budget and free up funds. We need the support of the masses, and raising taxes isn't the best way to garner it, even if we need the funds for a good cause."

Cygnus nodded, expressing his agreement with Romulus's analysis of the situation. He sighed and shuffled through a few more folders. Finally, he came to a thin one. "Perhaps I should bring this up before we move onto the next subject." He set it on top of the stack. However, instead of opening it, he glanced directly at Harry. "Harry, I've decided that your working at Hogwarts is not working out anymore. We need you in the Ministry, now. Are you willing?"

"Of course," said Harry as he mentally reviewed his mental list of things to do. Killing the basilisk was really the only thing that he would not have been able to do from outside of Hogwarts. Spying on students was no longer practical or especially probable.

"Good," said Cygnus, sounding as if he had almost expected Harry to turn him down. "It's going to be a stretch, but I don't think I'll lose too much political capital over this. I want you to assume a position as one of my undersecretaries. You'll have broad powers, but as of yet, no specific or permanent responsibility other than being my deputy. I feel that it is broadly known that you are one of my key advisors. I think there will be less resentment if it is in an official capacity."

Harry nodded slowly, masking his surprise. "Unless Romulus sees a better step, I'm game."

"Thank you," said Cygnus, glancing briefly at Romulus who still seemed slightly distracted. Detecting no contrary opinion, he continued, "You'll have to submit your resignation to Professor Dumbledore. At the earliest possible moment you can be released from your duties at Hogwarts, you'll start at the Ministry."

"Very well," Harry said. "I'll see what can be done."

Cygnus nodded and hesitated for a moment before addressing Harry again. "On a more personal note, I wouldn't mind if you . . . continued your association with my daughter Bella." He looked down and touched his firewhiskey glass, making like he was about to pick it up and take a sip. "You've been a good influence on her."

"I've tried," said Harry, his lips quirking into almost a half smile.

Cygnus smiled, abandoned the whiskey glass, and sat back, the burden of his responsibilities evaporating for a moment. "I'd like to think that before long you two might consider marriage. An undersecretary position is a very advantageous stepping stone. You'd be able to start off well. I can't imagine myself being Minister for very long, so your undersecretary position wouldn't be permanent by any means, but it would still leave you in a very good position if you take the advantage to make friends and cultivate connections. Maybe one day you'll be Minister yourself. You've certainly got enough talent, I think."

"We'll have to see what the future holds," Harry said modestly. He wasn't sure that he wanted to pursue such a career, but he also knew that if he married Bellatrix, she would be disappointed if he didn't.

"Of course," said Cygnus, his brief daydream coming to a close. He looked over to Romulus. "It's getting late. Are you sure we're not intruding?"

Romulus waved his hand, seemingly not paying close attention to Harry and Cygnus. "We have all the time you want. My wife is in Paris visiting her family. I haven't anything better to do."

Cygnus nodded, looking relieved. He pulled out another file and was about to start the next subject when an auror entered the room and coughed, drawing everyone's attention. "Minister," said the auror, the name of whom Harry remained ignorant, "dark wizards have commenced another raid in a Scottish village. The number of attackers is double that of the last incident."

Cygnus sighed. "I suppose Director Prewitt is dispatching appropriate forces?"

"Of course," said the auror, nodding his head in agreement.

"Perhaps some of you from my bodyguard detail can apparate to Scotland and render assistance," Cygnus commanded via suggestion. "I think we'll be safe behind the formidable defenses of Malfoy Manor."

The auror nodded. "Right away, sir." He departed the room.

Cygnus shook his head sadly. "Hopefully we can get more aurors trained. Prewitt claims that he's got everything under control, but I still feel like we are being forced to stretch our resources to counter these attacks. I think we all know that they'll only increase in frequency and seriousness." He turned to the folder he had been about to address. "The Wizengamot, he said tiredly. Romulus, we'll need your input on this one."

Romulus joined them at the table, accepted several of the parchments from Cygnus and began to explain the issues before the Wizengamot, the support for and against said issues, and how they would affect Cygnus. It was exhausting, and Harry wondered how Romulus could possibly know so much about a subject so bland. As Romulus droned on, Harry's attention wandered despite his best efforts to focus on the subject at hand. If he was to be an undersecretary, wasn't his duty to pay attention to these things?

Even Cygnus seemed bored and he stood to stretch and loosen his legs as Romulus verbally sifted through the Wizengamot reports, analyzing the issues and explaining the reasons behind the stances of various factions on each issue.

As Harry watched Cygnus walk around, he finally convinced himself that he'd better listen carefully to Romulus's comments, and sit up in his chair. It appeared that Cygnus had become distracted. He was standing in front of one of the windows, pensively staring out into the blackness.

Romulus continued to drone and Harry paid attention, until a new distraction overtook him. He couldn't help but stare at Bellatrix's father. The profile view of his face helped Harry see for the first time how much the man had aged since Harry had first met him. They should have found someone else to be Minister, Harry observed sadly.

Harry sighed quietly and continued staring at Cygnus while trying to pay attention to Romulus. Abruptly, Cygnus frowned and leaned forward. His mouth twitched as if he was about to say something, but he wasn't fast enough. The window exploded, glass ricocheting across the room as Cygnus was thrown back against the opposite wall, hitting it with a thud so loud that Harry knew he could not have survived. Despite this, Harry jumped from his chair and darted over to Cygnus's prone form as Romulus drew his wand.

"He's dead," Harry gasped, looking from Cygnus's bloodied corpse up to Romulus.

Romulus set his jaw grimly and jabbed his wand toward the light fixtures overhead. The lights themselves became detached from the fixtures, taking the form of orbs. A swoop of Romulus's wand sent the lights shooting out the shattered window where they exploded like flares, one after another. Anyone outside would be temporarily blinded and very startled. It would buy them time.

Realizing that kneeling over Cygnus's dead body would do no good, Harry stood, moved across the room, and checked the fireplace, already anticipating that the floo would be blocked. He was correct. Further testing revealed that anti-apparition wards had also been erected alongside wards to prevent portkey travel.

Harry turned and watched as Romulus darted with lightning speed toward one of the unbroken windows, a glint in his eye. He arrived and parted the curtain delicately, so as not to attract the attention of the attackers outside. Joining Romulus at the window, Harry looked down at the front walk leading to Malfoy Manor. As Harry's eyes lighted upon the attackers very slowly approaching the manor' front entrance, his scar pricked. Voldemort was among them. The others were mostly indistinguishable, though Harry could tell that that they were probably not the students more recently recruited by Voldemort. They seemed older and walked with more confidence.

Though Harry did not immediately recognize any of the Death Eaters, Romulus did. "Lucius," he snarled, staring down at the approaching attackers.

Harry studied the approaching group of Death Eaters more closely and spotted Lucius, walking near Voldemort. He had missed seeing the former student because he had been lost in Voldemort's shadow.

There was a slight pause as Romulus continued to stare. Harry's instinct was to start blasting curses at the invaders, but he also wanted to see if Romulus had any better plans. "What do you want to do?" Harry asked urgently.

Romulus weighed his options silently but quickly. Quick as he was though, Harry felt like an eternity had been wasted. Romulus turned to Harry and stared him in the eye with an intensity that bordered on violence. "I'm going to distract them while you escape," Romulus announced. "I want you to go."

"I think we either both stay or leave together," Harry protested, glancing down at the attackers. For some reason, they had paused on the front walk, hesitant to enter the manor. Harry and Romulus's lack of reaction beyond the light flares had left them nervous that some trap was about to be sprung upon them.

Romulus ignored Harry's comment. He held up his hand, and without letting go of his wand, removed the Malfoy family ring. He gave it to Harry. "I've tried to disinherit Lucius, but there are complications. Fortunately, there is a loophole. You can take this ring and use it to access the Malfoy vault. There's no time to waste. As soon as you leave here, go to Gringotts and demand to see the night supervisor. Have the Malfoy gold removed from the vault and placed in another vault under you control. Every knut of it."

Harry stared at Romulus, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Romulus said quietly. "We old men seemed to have failed. Our time is long past. It's up to you and whomever you can befriend. You've already got Bellatrix Black. She isn't a witch to sneeze at."

"I still think we can both make it," Harry said, finally overcoming his shock as he limply held the Malfoy ring. He and his friends had escaped worse situations in the future. On the other hand, the odds did not look good.

"My decision, Harry," Romulus declared. "Every decision hereafter will be yours, though. Do what you must to bring this bastard down."

They both glanced out the window and saw that some of the Death Eaters were summoning enough courage to approach closer to the house and use various charms to test for ambushes near the manor's main entrance. Harry supposed that this being their first true raid, the Death Eaters had yet to master the deadly efficiency and speed they would later employ in killing countless others.

"If you leave out the back, I think you'll escape notice if you're very careful," Romulus instructed Harry. Run as fast as you can until you've passed their anti-apparition wards. They'll be quite far out, I think. Both to keep us in and the aurors out. Then remember, straight to Gringotts. You must evacuate the gold immediately."

Harry nodded slowly, trying to absorb the reality of everything happening. He began to move away from Romulus and to the room's exit.

"Wait," said Romulus. "Get Cygnus's wand and ring. The ring is valuable, and Bellatrix will appreciate having her father's wand. You might also return here when the dark lords minions aren't overrunning the place. There's a safe in the floor. The ring will guide you to it and open it."

Realizing that time was running out, Harry moved quickly and retrieved the ring and wand from Cygnus's corpse, pocketing them. He then strode to the door. As he stepped out, a thought occurred to him, and he turned back into the room and to Romulus who was still watching the Death Eaters through the window.

"If I take your money, what about your wife?"

Romulus shook his head, and as he spoke, waved goodbye to Harry, a faint smile on his face. "She has her own bank account. She might even enjoy staying in Paris permanently."

"And your son? What if the war ends and he's still alive?"

Romulus turned away from Harry and resumed his tactical study of the invading forces through the dark window. "I have no son."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Lord Voldemort let a hiss of frustration escape from between his thin lips as he surveyed his Death Eaters cautiously inch toward Malfoy Manor. Cowards. He raised his wand, swung it forward and took aim at the double doors that guarded the entrance to the manor proper. A flaming impact hex burst forward, raced over the heads of his followers and collided with the doors, completely knocking down and destroying them.

"Our goal has been nearly achieved!" he shouted. "Forward!"

Feeling motivated, the Death Eaters rushed forward, even young Lucius Malfoy who was eager to please and caught in the excitement of the moment. Voldemort smiled in grim satisfaction. The young Malfoy heir would be invaluable. His pureblood influence and gold would be invaluable in the coming months and years. His influence might even go so far as to garner the election of a Minister less hostile toward Voldemort. The difficulty of Lucius having assaulted the Black girl would have to smoothed over. It wouldn't be hard, though. A little gold in the right pockets. Her father and uncle were dead and could hardly object.

The Death Eaters approached the smoldering entrance of Malfoy Manor quickly. However, their advance was abruptly impeded when one of the windows overlooking the front walk of the manor exploded, emitting two dozen flares which zoomed toward the attackers, letting out high-pitched whines. Reflexively, they all covered either their eyes or ears and ducked, hitting the ground.

Voldemort snarled, angry both at the cowardice of his own followers and the resistance being offered by Romulus Malfoy and Harry Ashworth. It was probably Malfoy manning the upper floor or front of the house. Ashworth would have launched fiendfyre by now. The thought of Ashworth caused Voldemort to twitch slightly. Being close to Ashworth always . . . tickled his mental defenses. Thinking about him also caused feelings Voldemort did not like—mostly because he did not understand them.

The whining flares continued to burst from the window. Having had enough, Voldemort lashed out, and the stonework around the window exploded inward. For good measure, Voldemort repeated the move on each window, hoping to catch the defenders indirectly with ricocheting stone, if not directly.

Silence reigned until Voldemort barked at his followers to move forward. However, before they could recover themselves another barrage of spells emitted from one of the former windows of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort shot several spells toward the hole in the wall, but Malfoy had stopped shooting spells before they made contact. In the lull, Voldemort's followers started scrambling toward the entrance. The only safety was in the manor, below the second floor where the defenders couldn't see them.

As they scrambled toward the entrance, Malfoy began to hurl killing curses downward. Voldemort began shooting back, not wanting to lose followers so early in his campaign. Oddly though, Malfoy's spells kept missing his Death Eaters. Voldemort frowned, wondering how it was possible that a veteran dueler like Romulus Malfoy could miss so often. Suddenly, the dark lord realized what was going on. He was aiming for one specific, moving target. His own son, Lucius.

Voldemort waved his wand and summoned Lucius Malfoy through the air to safety. "Stay here," Voldemort hissed, planting Lucius behind a hedge. "Don't come out. I'll handle this."

The dark lord then swept up the path. "Fall back," he commanded. He shot a barrage of spells toward the manor, providing a distraction while his Death Eaters retreated. When they were reasonably far from Romulus Malfoy's position, Voldemort gave instructions. "Kick up a racket. Keep him distracted. Make lots of noise and light, but don't try to directly engage him." The red gleam in his eyes punctuated his words and instilled in them a motivation to follow his orders. Voldemort then disillusioned himself and slithered away.

~!~!~!~!

Panting, Harry slowed down and turned back long enough to look at Malfoy Manor. The explosions and bursts of light had intensified. Apparently, Romulus was putting up a strong fight. He turned and resumed his pace, thankful for the physical intensity of his more recent drills in the Room of Requirement. He had lost some of his physical endurance since arriving in the past, but he reckoned he would be regaining it pretty quickly.

As he ran, he felt his scar prick again. Harry thought he might feel murderous intent coming from Voldemort. Romulus had apparently become a thorn in the dark lord's side. Though the connection between Harry and the Voldemort of the past was weaker than the connection in the future, Harry could still ascertain some of the dark lord's more intense feelings when in close proximity to Voldemort. Fortunately, the mental strength Harry had been forced to develop during the war in the future dulled the connection somewhat.

Still running, Harry felt a subtle change in the air around him via his magical senses and realized that he had finally passed through the Death Eaters' anti-apparition wards. With a sigh of relief, he glanced back at Malfoy Manor and then apparated away.

~!~!~!~!~!

The elusive tickle in Voldemort's mind vanished, and the dark lord knew that Harry Ashworth had escaped. He had probably exited the manor during the racket Malfoy had raised. It's a small matter, Voldemort reassured himself. Now I will not have to worry about him ambushing me. Cygnus Black had been the primary objective of the excursion, Romulus Malfoy the secondary. Ashworth would have been icing on the cake. Without the Blacks and Malfoy, Ashworth was now a nobody, albeit a well-informed one. He could be dispatched with ease later. Clearing his head and focusing on the task at hand, Voldemort crept up the stairs toward the second floor where he could hear his Death Eaters exchanging spellfire with Romulus Malfoy.

The noise led Voldemort to the room where Malfoy had chosen to make his stand. The door to the room was open, and Voldemort peered in. He was surprised to see that the Malfoy patriarch was not directly next to the windows from where his original spells had come. Rather, Malfoy seemed to have taken refuge on the side of the fireplace opposite from the door.

Voldemort cursed his luck. He might have been able to snipe Malfoy from the darkened hallway had he still been in front of the windows. Cautiously, Voldemort observed Malfoy's actions. Apparently, Romulus was confident that none of the Death Eater spells would find him, for he was not firing defensive cures. Rather, he was hurling spells designed to create mass damage and noise outside of the windows.

Grudgingly, Voldemort admitted that Malfoy's dueling strategy was successful. No longer were spells that Malfoy needed to worry about even coming into the room, though that had not been the case for the entire duel. Strewn across the room were debris, books, the remains of glass bottles, and splintered furniture. The air reeked of potions that had spilled and soaked the carpet. Indeed, the fumes were so thick, that it was difficult to see across the entire room. Voldemort would have liked to believe his Death Eaters were responsible for the damage, but he suspected that most of it had come from his own spells.

Grimly, Voldemort used a number of spells to hide himself and then crept into the room. It took a number of minutes, but Voldemort was finally able to maneuver into a position where he could take a clear shot at Romulus Malfoy.

Malfoy was a mess, but there was a grim look on his face as he leaned back against the wall and continued to fire curses while he leaned on what seemed to be a walking stick. Voldemort's thin lips curled into a smile of glee. It was over. He raised his wand and shouted the killing curse, simultaneously allowing his illusory shields to drop. He wanted Malfoy to see the dark lord as life left him.

Malfoy's eyes widened with surprise as he saw Voldemort materialize and shoot the green light of the killing curse toward him. Voldemort relished the surprise. But then something unexpected happened. Instead of fear in Romulus's eyes, Voldemort saw triumph. The killing curse struck, and Malfoy froze and began to slump over, losing grip of his walking stick. The stick began to fall, and Voldemort's eyes traced its path to the floor. The spot on the floor where Malfoy had been standing was surrounded by a boundary of runes burned into the carpet. The stick would fall on the ground outside of the rune boundary.

Too late, Voldemort realized that he had walked into a trap. The stick had been charmed to trigger a magical reaction. Reflexively, the dark lord grabbed for the stick, but then realized at the last moment that he would not be quick enough. Hurriedly he put his hands up to shield his face, doing so just as the stick made contact with the carpet, landing crosswise over the boundary of runes.

A deafening explosion shook the entire manor as a whoosh of air signaled that the potions and fumes spread throughout the entire room had ignited. Voldemort screamed as he felt exposed parts of his head and arms burn.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The Gringotts night supervisor was not particularly thrilled to receive a visit from Harry. Neither had been the guards outside of the bank. Only after Harry had made it clear that he was a wealthy client has he been allowed in.

"Your story is rather incredible," the supervisor goblin said after listening to Harry repeat the essential details for the third time.

Harry shoved the ring in front of the goblin's face. "Yet you have already admitted that I could not have obtained the Malfoy ring without the consent of Romulus Malfoy."

The goblin scratched his chin, more out of annoyance than thoughtfulness. "Put it on."

"What?"

"I want to see you wear it," the goblin said.

Harry ground his teeth, but acquiesced, slipping the ring onto one of his fingers. He and the goblin then stood in the bank lobby watching each other. Apparently, the night supervisor of Gringotts thought that something bad might happen to Harry if he had come to possess the ring through illicit means.

Finally, the goblin admitted defeat. "Moving the entire monetary assets of the Malfoy family is not a small job," he said. "Even if we are only moving it to a new vault within the bank."

"Then, by all means, help yourself to a generous gratuity," Harry said. "Both for the bank and for the personal pockets of the goblins involved in the job."

A greedy gleam in the goblin's eyes signaled that Harry had finally struck a deal. The goblin hobbled over to one of the teller desks and grabbed a number of sheets of parchment. "Fill out these forms," he directed before disappearing from the lobby into some side hallway.

Harry accepted the forms and filled them out as quickly as he could. The Malfoy gold was to be moved to a cash-only vault. The owner of the vault wished to be known as . . . James Evans. Mr. James Evans would have broad access privileges to the money through standard means as well as through muggle and/or international banks.

After nearly half an hour, the goblin returned and accepted the papers Harry had filled out. "James Evans?" he asked. "How many names do you have, Mr. Potter?"

"Is it a problem?" Harry asked.

"I guess not," muttered the goblin as he retreated, leaving Harry alone for another half an hour. Finally, the grudging goblin returned and handed Harry a key to the vault. "Is there anything else you desire," he asked.

Even if there was, Harry did not think he would have bothered asking. Not to this goblin anyway. But he did have some informational questions. "You won't point your finger at me if anyone comes asking about the gold that used to be in the Malfoy vault, will you?"

"We will protect your fake name to the extent the law allows us," the goblin said, his lips curving into a smirk over the thought of Harry's pseudonym. "Your action in seizing the gold was lawful. If the Malfoy heirs express dissatisfaction with being deprived of their gold we may, however, advise the Malfoy heirs that any future earnings from their properties ought to be safeguarded in a vault that doesn't open for the old Malfoy ring."

"I guess that is the most I can ask for," Harry said.

He left the bank and made his way down Diagon Alley. The shops were closed. The only sign of life came from the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry sighed. Stopping for a butterbeer at the pub was very tempting, but he didn't want to be anywhere around when the news of Cygnus's death spread. I guess I'll have to go notify Bellatrix, he told himself as he trudged away from the bank and to where he could apparate.

~!~!~!~!~!

Alastor Moody glared at the snake-eating skull hovering in the sky above what remained of Malfoy Manor. Apparently the mysterious dark lord had created a calling card for use at attacks—real attacks. Not those farces up in Scotland. Moody scanned the grounds, his eyes passing over the corpses of Minister Black's late bodyguards. He cursed whoever it had been that had allowed half of them to go to Scotland to help put down the red herring attack. Not that it would have helped to have the full contingent. Based on the devastation outside of the manor alone, they had not stood a chance. They might have held out longer, though.

He was just preparing to return to the inside of the manor when Director Prewitt arrived. Despite the late, evening hour, Prewitt's clothes were impeccable, though the man himself seemed quite harried and permanently startled. "Have you confirmed that Minister Black's body is present?

"Yes," said Moody, "his death has been confirmed from the corpse, or what's left of it anyway."

"Left of it?" Prewitt asked.

"Looks like Malfoy gave the attackers hell," Moody said, quoting what one of the junior aurors had said after seeing the manor close up and in detail. He liked the thought of the older wizard holding off a bunch of ruffians. "We think he firebombed the manor from within. He may have even killed some of the attackers. We can't know for sure. They didn't leave anyone or anything behind."

Director Prewitt bit his lip absently. "You think maybe Malfoy deliberately committed suicide to take them out?"

"No," Moody said. "We found his corpse. Definitely the killing curse. He must have set some trap or chain reaction to get whoever did it."

Prewitt nodded and took a break from asking questions. The site of the ruined manor, some parts of it still smoldering fascinated him. Moody too found the property fascinating. Whatever Malfoy had done must have been spectacular to watch. The walls and infrastructure of Malfoy Manor still stood, but for the most part, the building had been completely gutted. A great deal of money and construction might restore the manor to its former glory, but not for some time yet.

"Ashworth was here tonight," Prewitt said. "Some of the Minister's bodyguards who were sent up to the attack in Scotland told me."

"Didn't find his body," Moody said. "Either he had the good fortune to leave before the attack or he managed to escape."

"If he escaped, why didn't he notify us of the ongoing attack?" Prewitt mused.

"You're assuming he didn't leave before the attack occurred," Moody said. "It doesn't matter, though. There's no way he did this. It's more than clear that the attackers came from the outside and practically had to lay siege. Further, killing Malfoy and Black does nothing for Ashworth. He has now lost the influence he had over the Ministry."

"Yes, you're right," Prewitt mused. "You might still look into it during your investigation, however."

Moody nodded. He had every intention of doing so. Ashworth no longer had influence, but he had knowledge that the Order would need. He might even be able to clearly identify the attackers.

"I'll leave you to this," Prewitt told Moody. "The Wizengamot is convening, and I must report on the situation. I think we'd better step up our guard until we can come to a complete understanding of what happened here and what the implications are. I want you to get to the bottom of this quickly and then start drafting proposals to prevent and defend from these sorts of attacks."

Moody watched his superior's retreating back and imagined what tales he would tell the Wizengamot. Though Prewitt had not seen the body of Cygnus Black, he would nevertheless tell a moving tale of the horrific death the man had experienced. He would then warn them of the dangers witches and wizards everywhere faced. He was a politician to the bone, but Moody took comfort in the fact that the wizard who would undoubtedly become Minister of Magic was a fighter.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Hogwarts was gloomy. The curfew had not quite arrived, yet an oppressive silence reigned over the castle. This told Harry that the news had arrived ahead of him while he had been waiting on the pleasure of the Gringotts goblins. Bellatrix would know by now. Harry made his way toward the Gryffindor dorms. He hoped more than expected to find Bellatrix there. It would make his job easier. He could tell the news and, if the situation dictated, could tactfully retreat, leaving her in peace to mourn her father.

It had not occurred to Harry that he might have difficulty getting into the dorm, not knowing the password and not knowing being the head of house, but upon arriving in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, it opened to reveal Sirius Black. It seemed that Sirius had been looking for Harry, probably using the Marauders Map.

"Professor," Sirius said, looking rather depressed, "were you there?"

Harry nodded as Sirius motioned for him to come into Gryffindor Tower. He climbed in, and the portrait closed behind him. The common room was mostly empty. A number of students sat silently doing their homework, Lily Evans among them. Upon sighting Harry, she made a retreat toward her dorm. Harry presumed that she was going to notify Bellatrix that Harry had arrived.

Sirius continued looking at Harry, clearly expecting details or some sort of comfort. Unable to deny his once and future godfather, Harry tried to explain briefly. "We were at Malfoy Manor. Cygnus was dead before we even knew what was happening.

"Was the dark lord there?" Sirius whispered.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"How did you escape?"

"Old Malfoy sacrificed himself," Harry said dully, movement at the stairs catching his attention. Bellatrix was descending. "You're going to have to excuse me," Harry told Sirius, nodding toward Bellatrix who was approaching.

Bellatrix made it to where Harry was standing as Sirius walked away and found a seat next to where James was quietly studying. For the first time that Harry could remember, Bellatrix was completely speechless, though her violet eyes, which seemed larger than usual, peered into Harry's own eyes expressing what Harry thought might be desperation. Harry quickly recognized that she was still in shock.

"I . . . I would have defended him," Harry told her quietly. "But it was a surprise attack. Death was instantaneous. He didn't have a chance."

She nodded and then looked at the floor. It seemed she didn't hold Harry responsible—at least with regard to the immediate events of the night. Harry could have hurled a few accusations at himself. His meddling in time had put Cygnus in the path of Voldemort. On the other hand, Harry wasn't sure how long Cygnus had survived before his jaunt into the past.

Beginning to feel very awkward, Harry put his hand on her shoulder and tried to impart comfort. "I'm sorry."

She nodded silently, and the couple stood silently as the Gryffindor students scrupulously kept themselves too preoccupied to watch the exchange, giving Harry and Bellatrix a measure of privacy. Deciding that it was the right time, Harry took his hand from her shoulder and retrieved Cygnus's wand, as well as the ring Malfoy had given Cygnus only recently. Harry proffered them to her. "I got these from him," Harry said. He couldn't bring himself to say body or corpse.

Bellatrix accepted the wand and ring, clutching them in her fist. "Thank you," she whispered. "I think I need to go rest."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

22. Grievous Consequences

A/N: Your reviews are wonderful. My thanks to Legato Deathscythe and Korval for consulting with me about this story and particularly this chapter.

Chapter 21

By

Lord Silvere

Lily was doing her best to read a book, but she couldn't help but keep glancing toward the side of the room where Bellatrix was sitting in front of her vanity. On the tabletop was her deceased father's wand and ring that Professor Ashworth had apparently delivered. Lily found it curious that Ashworth had been able to provide Bellatrix those mementos so quickly—he must have been present when Minister Black had died. She did not dwell on this curiosity, however. The matter at hand was the bottle of firewhiskey sitting within easy reach of Bellatrix.

Previous experience told Lily that trying to strike up a conversation with Bellatrix while she sat in front of her mirror would be useless. Try as she might, Lily could not think of any comforting words to share with the girl who had just lost her father. Having given up on reading, Lily watched Bellatrix reach up and configure her hair in a way that would allow her to wear her favorite hair ornament. She then put the black ornament in her hair and stared at herself in the mirror some more before pouring another glass of firewhiskey.

No longer able to watch Bellatrix or read in the oppressive silence, Lily rolled off the bed and exited the room, taking the book she had been reading with her. Upon reaching the common room she found that she had several options for seating. However, Sirius Black had spotted her and was waving her over to sit with him and James Potter.

Reluctantly, Lily joined them. "Doing your homework?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Sirius even though it was pretty clear he had not touched his parchment or quill for some time. James on the other hand seemed occupied with a transfiguration textbook, though Lily observed him peeking at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

"I see," said Lily. Normally she would have tried to come up with a pithy remark, but Sirius was being polite, and he had just lost two close family members in quick succession of each other. Feeling decidedly awkward, Lily sat down with them and made like she too was going to study from her book.

It appeared, though, that Sirius wanted to talk. "So, how is Bella doing?" he asked.

"Very nearly plastered," Lily sighed. "I think she's still in shock."

"No tears yet?" James asked quietly, looking up from his own book.

"None," said Lily.

James nodded, slowly. "I wasn't ever entirely sure she was capable of tears. She has always just seemed so . . . hard."

"It was her father who died, though" Sirius said. "They always had a pretty close bond—at least until she started Hogwarts."

"Oh?" said Lily, expressing interest in Bellatrix's background.

"Bella and my aunt have always had strong personalities," Sirius explained. "They didn't get along. When Bella got older, she would go into work with my uncle and he would look after her so that she and my aunt would not aggravate each other more than necessary."

"What about her sisters?" James asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Andromeda has always worn a mask of apathy and has managed to stay out of trouble. That left Narcissa for my aunt to focus on. She basked in all of the extra attention. She's a little bit spoiled, though I would never say bad-natured."

"So you think she's taking it quite hard, then?" James said.

"Yeah, I think so," Sirius said, leaning back and taking a break from the homework he had not been doing anyway. He nodded thoughtfully. "Think about it. With both my father and her father dead, there is now nobody in the Black family to which she feels close. When she goes home this summer her life is going to be a living hell."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You seem to forget about Professor Ashworth. She's bosom buddies with him. There's also the fact that she's seventeen and of age in the magical world. She can always just apparate anywhere she wants during the day and avoid her mother if their relationship is really that bad."

Sirius twisted his lips. "I guess you're partially correct. She is of age, and she did inherit quite a bit of money from my father. As for Ashworth, however, he may leave England entirely and go home to Australia. She'd be pretty lonely then, even if she exercised the option of moving out of her family home."

"Why would Professor Ashworth do that?" Lily asked.

"Professor Slughorn is going to be able to return and teach soon," James pointed out, half-focused on his book. "Ashworth will be out of a job. Not only that, there is the dark lord to consider. Ashworth would be crazy to stick around England."

"Dark lord?" Lily asked, feeling like she had been punched in the stomach.

"Oops," said James, suddenly studying his book very intensely and avoiding Sirius's gaze. It was an unnecessary ploy, however. Instead of being angry, Sirius was nonchalantly looking the other way and pretending not to have heard James's slip so that he wouldn't have to be the one to clarify. Seeing that he was caught, James tried to do damage control. "Don't worry about it," he muttered.

Lily looked from one to the other. "You've spilled it. Now you have to tell me."

Sirius sighed and finally turned his focus back to the group. "Apparently my old man discovered that there's a new dark lord on the loose. That's why they campaigned to make my uncle Minister of Magic. Professor Ashworth was also doing some work for them in an attempt to sabotage the dark lord. It was the dark lord that killed Bellatrix's father. Probably killed my father, too."

"How do you know that the dark lord did it?" Lily asked, vaguely frightened, but also suspicious.

"Ashworth told me," Sirius retorted. "While he was waiting for Bella, I asked if the dark lord was there when Cygnus died. He said yes."

"Thus," James interjected, "Ashworth would be crazy to loiter in England once Slughorn returns and puts him out of a job. From what you said earlier, Ashworth acted like the only reason he's alive is because Romulus Malfoy sacrificed himself. It's only a matter of time before the dark lord tries to hunt down Ashworth. You know, to tie up the loose ends."

"I see," said Lily, her mouth feeling rather dry. "Who else might this dark lord want to kill?"

Sirius looked at Lily, his young face strangely grim. "Most probably muggleborns and muggles."

~!~!~!~!~!

It was nearly a couple of hours after midnight before Harry surrendered and admitted that he had no chance of falling asleep. The death of Romulus and Cygnus still weighed heavily on his mind. Even heavier was the responsibility that was now firmly his alone. Without the Blacks and Malfoy, what could he now do that would be profitable in the fight against Voldemort? Woefully awake and alert, he climbed out of bed and got dressed slowly, pondering his options.

Harry wandered out into his sitting room, slumped onto a couch, and leaned against one of its armrests. He began to make an inventory of his assets. He had Bella for an ally, money to cover expenses, and knowledge about Voldemort and the future that was quickly losing value. It didn't sound so good, but on the other hand, the Ministry would be dead set against Voldemort, and Dumbledore had been forewarned. Perhaps the headmaster had even founded the Order of the Phoenix. Moody had let it slip that he knew about the dark lord's existence, so it was plausible to believe that Dumbledore had passed the information on to a few people.

Allowing himself to slouch a bit more, Harry closed his eyes. The key was to kill Voldemort, to cut the head off of the snake. Would the Order and the Ministry understand that? Regardless, he would need to find a way to get more information to Dumbledore. The elderly wizard was the one who stood the best chance at keeping Voldemort at bay long enough for Harry to find a way to fulfill the prophecy and kill the dark lord.

Harry was still slouched on his couch mulling over the situation when he heard the door open and then close. He cracked open his eyes so that he could detect the identity of his visitor. It was Bellatrix. He felt too emotionally spent to show much of a reaction, but his desire to be extra nice to the now fatherless Bellatrix prompted him to sit up on the couch and play the sympathetic host. "You can't sleep, either?" he asked, looking at her closely. She was dressed in a dark bathrobe, her arms crossed over her chest as she hugged herself tightly. He wondered if maybe he should order something from the kitchens—that is, if the house elves could do something this late in the night.

Rather than responding to Harry's question, Bellatrix stared at him, her eyes looking rather glazed. Noticing this oddity, Harry frowned and waved his hand in front of her face. Her eyes followed but something seemed off. "Bellatrix? Are you all right?" he asked.

"I can't sleep," she slurred, still staring at Harry with her violet eyes. Her arms dropped down and she took a few staggering steps toward the couch, but stopped and continued her study of Harry.

Immediately, Harry realized that she was drunk. He sighed softly. "We'd better get you back to bed," he said. "If we're lucky, we'll find a sleeping potion on the way. A night's rest and some hangover potion will leave you feeling much better."

This apparently was not quite the reaction Bellatrix was looking for. She set her jaw and looked away from Harry, giving him a view of the profile of her delicate, pale-skinned jaw.

Harry suppressed a sigh and did his best to sound comforting. "What do you want, Bella?"

She turned her gaze back to him. Slowly, she reached up, untied her bathrobe, and then shrugged out of it, leaving herself clad only in her underclothes. Unable to help himself, Harry stared, taking in her soft curves. This seemingly being the desired reaction, Bellatrix lurched forward and then fell onto Harry's lap. He was too startled to react. In an instant she was grabbing at him as she awkwardly placed her lips onto his for a kiss.

It was a very wet kiss and was strongly accentuated by the odor of firewhiskey. This, combined with the realization that she was a seventeen-year-old student led Harry to stiffen like a board. Bellatrix instantly sensed Harry's reaction and interpreted it as a sign of revulsion and rejection. She broke the kiss, placed her head on Harry's chest, and began to sob uncontrollably. Harry hugged her and tried to comfort her, but it was to no avail. She continued to cry.

Still holding Bellatrix and occasionally patting her on the back, Harry tried to analyze the situation. Had she really intended to come down and seduce him? Or had it been a spur of the moment action brought on by alcohol? He shook his head in wonderment as he tried to decide whether he should let her stay on his lap or whether he should go and try to find something for her to eat or drink.

In the end, Harry was just too tired to do much of anything. Eventually, her sobs became weaker and he let himself slip into drowsing for about twenty minutes. When he regained his senses, she had stopped crying completely, though she had not removed herself from her position on Harry's lap. Noticing that some of his limbs had fallen asleep, Harry tried to shift a little bit to allow his blood to circulate. The movement alerted Bellatrix that he was awake and she moved her head so that she could look Harry in the eyes. The closer proximity of her face to his was decidedly uncomfortable for Harry—that and the fact that her eyes still seemed off somehow.

"Feel better?" Harry asked.

"A little bit," Bellatrix admitted after a moment. She was still clearly under the influence of the drink, but seemed to have slightly regained her senses—perhaps because she was no longer under the influence of having bottled up her grief.

Harry nodded. "I think I have some candy stashed in this room somewhere. If you get off me for a bit, I can dig it out. It might make you feel better."

Bellatrix looked down at herself and blushed. "Of course," she said, moving quickly, though clumsily, to let Harry free. Still blushing, she retrieved her robe and put it on her. "Worst seduction ever," she confessed, her voice bordering on the edge of coming out slurred. "The least I could have done would have been to wear more sophisticated lingerie—or nothing at all."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Bellatrix in all of her forwardness was back, albeit still drunk. "You look great in anything," he said, retrieving a chocolate frog and handing it over to her. "This should help you out."

She accepted the chocolate frog and also a chair next to the coffee table on which she perched, her legs crossed beneath her. He'd never seen her sit that way before. He credited it to her drunken state. Harry returned to his couch and watched her nibble delicately on the chocolate. Harry found the sight adorable. Despite his fascination with her appearance however, the tiredness that had motivated him to drowse in the first place was returning. Harry reckoned that this was a sign that he might yet still get some good sleep before the night ended.

"Harry?"

"Yes," he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Now that my father is dead, and my uncle too, I am left without certain options. At least, I don't have very many good options."

"Uh-huh."

"When school gets out, would you mind if I went home with you?" Bellatrix asked softly.

Harry shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Every since he had arrived in the past, he and Bellatrix had gotten on fine, and he practically viewed her as being as close to him, if not closer, than Ron and Hermione ever had been. However, there was the romantic element to be considered. He wasn't quite ready to jump feet-first into a relationship, at least not to the degree on which he sensed Bellatrix was planning. "I don't really have a house."

"You've got plenty of gold to buy one," Bellatrix reminded him, her voice slow and quiet, even serious. "Further, you have enough to rent a room at a pub or hotel while you look."

"This is true," Harry admitted, his thoughts vaguely turning to the Black and Malfoy gold he now controlled. It occurred to him that he should mention the Malfoy gold to her, but now was hardly the time.

"So? Is it okay? Harry, please. It would be a mistake for me to go home to my mother and aunt, now. Besides, now that this war is in full tilt, we'll need to work closely together. I promise that I won't . . . ah . . . come onto you like I just did." Bellatrix said, a small red tinge appearing in her cheeks. "Unless, of course—"

"All right," Harry agreed, deliberately cutting her off. He realized that it was pretty much the only decent option for her. The terms also sounded good. He could hold her to the promise of not invading his comfort zone, though he strongly suspected she would continue to press her proposition of marriage or find other ways of teasing him.

"Thank you, Harry," Bellatrix said, sounding dead serious and utterly sincere.

Harry nodded. "Well, there's still some time for us to sleep, tonight. If you don't mind, I'm going to turn in."

"All right," Bellatrix said, looking very worn out, but satisfied. "See you tomorrow."

~!~!~!~!~!

The next morning, Harry stumbled into the Great Hall eagerly looking forward to breakfast. Gauging from the platters on the student tables and the number of students gathered, Harry deduced that the elves had only just barely served the food. This was good because it would give him plenty of time to hastily prepare for his first class of the morning.

Upon arriving at his spot on the professors' table, he discovered two letters awaiting him. Harry ignored them and shoveled generous helpings of eggs, potatoes, and bacon onto his plate. A little syrup to sweeten it up, and Harry was in heaven. He sipped some pumpkin juice and then turned his attention to the mail.

The first letter proved to be from Alastor Moody. The body of the letter was terse. In it, Moody requested that Harry meet with him at the earliest possible juncture regarding the death of Minister Black. Harry was to suggest a time and place. If the time Harry chose wasn't soon enough, Moody would be glad to offer an escort to the place of his own choosing.

Harry rolled his eyes. Moody or Prewitt or both probably thought he was guilty of killing Black and Malfoy. A truth potion or a magical oath could solve that. There wasn't anything that had happened that night, except for Malfoy bequeathing his gold to Harry, that Harry was not prepared to share with the Ministry. They might even be impressed as discovering I quite nearly became and undersecretary, Harry smirked. What would Umbridge think then? Vaguely, Harry wondered if the odious witch had yet begun her employment with the Ministry.

The next letter was both unexpected and puzzling. It was from Professor Dumbledore. Harry's presence in the headmaster's office was requested immediately after the conclusion of Harry's breakfast.

Harry lingered over his food longer than normal as he pondered what Dumbledore might want with him and what he would say. It could very well be that Dumbledore wanted details about the dark lord killing Cygnus Black. Harry could provide that. He had already decided to stick with and broadly disclose most of the events as they had happened. Would Dumbledore want more? Harry supposed he could drop a few tidbits. Perhaps he could even play it so that he became a primary source of information for Dumbledore and eventually the Order. At the very least, it would make him more cognizant of the Order's movements.

Realizing that the stop at Dumbledore's office would make him late to class if he didn't hurry, Harry quickly finished up his meal and exited the Great Hall. A few minutes later, he was ascending the moving staircase and knocking on the headmaster's door.

"Come in," Dumbledore called.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him. Dumbledore tiredly motioned for Harry to take a seat across the desk from him. Clearly, the headmaster was tired. His movements were slow and his blue eyes were quite dull. Harry was unnerved not only by seeing Dumbledore so tired, but by the fact that Dumbledore's dull eyes were now focused intently on him. Eventually, the headmaster reached for his bowl of lemon drops and offered it to Harry. "Lemon drop?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, accepting the lemon drop in an attempt to be very polite.

"The loss of Minister Black is a tragedy," Dumbledore said, returning the lemon drop bowl to his desk without taking one himself. "Perhaps more of a tragedy than anyone realizes," he added.

Harry nodded in agreement, though he didn't feel like saying anything—not even anything just to fill the void of silence.

"I understand that you were there when it happened," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Yes," admitted Harry. "It was pretty bad. I was lucky to escape with my life."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, his eyes now pointed toward one of the various portraits on the wall, though he didn't seem to be looking at it. "I'm sure the Ministry will want you to tell them everything you know. I hope you will cooperate. Not only do you have information about what happened last night, you also undoubtedly have information on what you, the Blacks, and the late Mr. Malfoy did to combat this dark lord."

"Of course," said Harry. "I've already been contacted. I'll make myself available."

"Good," said Dumbledore. He paused for a little bit and then pressed on. "You, the Blacks, and Mr. Malfoy accomplished more than you may realize. The Ministry has been prepared for conflict and put in the right mindset. I can assure you, Harry, that the former Director Foxe would have been a very poor leader in the upcoming difficulties. Then, there was Minister Thornton." Dumbledore frowned at Harry. "I'm not entirely sure her removal from office was as legitimate as Orion Black led us to believe. I will admit, though, having her in command now would have been inconvenient."

Harry shrugged modestly. "I can't really say that I was directly involved in that political maneuver."

"No, I didn't think so," Dumbledore said. He smiled briefly. "Had you been more involved in the political negotiations made by the Black family, you would have spent the night rallying their allies. As it is, Davian Prewitt did that. It would appear he has become the heir of the alliances the Black family forged. I think it is safe to say that he will be our next Minister of Magic, Harry."

"I see," said Harry, wondering if maybe he could have actually had an effect on who would have become Minister. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, he mused. I could have never become Minister myself, and I can't think of anyone else that would be more competent than Prewitt.

Dumbledore nodded, leaning back in his seat and staring off into space. Eventually, he put a serious expression on his face and addressed Harry. "I have another purpose for having summoned you here this morning, Harry."

"Oh?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "It is a delicate matter. I have no wish to cause you embarrassment or shame, nor do I wish you to think that I am your enemy. However, I fear that I have no choice in the matter."

Suddenly, Harry was very concerned. "What is it, headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "Please let me explain the facts and my reasoning before you interrupt me. I assure you that I will give you a chance to respond."

Feeling very confused, Harry nodded, having no choice.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "as you know, prefects are assigned to patrol the school corridors at night. Last night, Bellatrix Black was observed departing from your living quarters."

Harry winced and leaned forward to explain, but Dumbledore held up his hand, reminding Harry that he wanted to get to the end before being interrupted.

"It is not appropriate for relationships like that to exist between students and teachers," Dumbledore continued. "I do acknowledge that there are extenuating circumstances, however. First, Bellatrix is of age in the magical world. Second, you are a close family friend. And third, the family last night experienced a horrible tragedy. There is also the truth that Bellatrix Black is an extremely forward young lady. However, the fact remains that there is a boundary between students and teachers that must be maintained."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He should have been more careful.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "there is also the fact that you were hired on a temporary basis because Professor Slughorn had become ill. He has now recovered. Given that my permanent potions master is now able to resume work, and given that the temporary potions master has landed in a bad light owing to certain circumstances, it would be irresponsible of me to retain you on the Hogwarts staff. Harry, I'm going to have to let you go."

Dumbledore held up his hand again, anticipating that Harry was about to retort. "I don't do this with malice, Harry. I'll provide you good references for any job to which you choose to apply. You'll have your pay through the end of the term. There's also one happy result that will come of this. You can freely court Bellatrix even though she is still in school."

Harry was too surprised to make a proper response for a moment or two. Finally, he brought out his only defense. "Headmaster, I can prove that nothing happened between us last night. We didn't . . ."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It doesn't matter one way or the other, Harry. Her being in your apartments, dressed in such a manner, is the boundary. I'm not interested in knowing what happened behind the closed doors."

Desperately, Harry cast about his mind searching for a possible defense, but he could find none. "When do I leave?" he finally said.

"Before lunch," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry that it's so quick, but Professor Slughorn will arrive in less than an hour to assume your teaching load. He'll want to have a chance to settle in to his quarters and office before tomorrow."

"I guess I'd better get started," Harry sighed.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Really, Harry, I'm sorry that it has to be this way. Perhaps after Miss Black leaves Hogwarts and if there is an opening on the staff, we could hire you again on a more permanent basis, though not as potions master, I think."

Harry stood and turned to leave, though he glanced back. "Defense Against the Dark Arts was always my stronger area," he said.

Dumbledore quirked a smile, and his eyes even twinkled slightly. "I'm glad to hear that, Harry, for more reasons than you know."

Harry shut the door on the headmaster. "I think I could make a few good guesses," he muttered.

~!~!~!~!

It took Harry relatively little time to pack. He didn't have very many possessions, what with only having arrived in the past a few months prior. In the end, the thing that consumed the most time was making sure his student files were in order for Professor Slughorn, who, as Harry understood it, was already in the potions classroom teaching classes.

In a way, it was a relief. Harry supposed that with Orion, Cygnus, and Romulus dead, it now fell to him to spend more of his time plotting against the dark lord. Harry wasn't entirely sure what course to pursue, seeing that the game board had been drastically altered only the night before. He reckoned that he could think of a few things, though. He had helped the Order wage war against the dark lord for several years.

He was nearly finished when someone knocked on the open door. Harry looked up and discovered that it was his mother. "Lily," he said, mustering a smile.

"Professor," she said slowly, "is it true that you're leaving?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "It's true."

"What for?"

Harry shrugged, not really wanting to admit to his mother that he was suspected of having shagged Bellatrix Black. Come to think of it, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else from the future would be disgusted. Mrs. Weasley would have had a stroke. The future version of Sirius might have had a good laugh, though. "My services are no longer needed," he said carefully. "Professor Slughorn has recovered."

"They might have kept you until the end of the term," Lily said petulantly. "It isn't that far off."

Harry wasn't sure whether she was questioning the reason he was giving or criticizing the school. Hopefully, it was the latter. "Nevertheless, I have no choice," Harry said glibly. He paused a moment, studying Lily. "I do want you to know, Lily, that it has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you ever need help, you can call on me."

"Maybe you could give me a few pointers on dueling," Lily said. "Sirius and James told me about the dark lord. They think he'll want to kill muggleborns and half-bloods."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that is precisely what he will do. I can guarantee it."

Lily's eyes widened. "So you think I could be in danger?"

"Probably," Harry said, wondering whether she would ever become a target. There was little chance of her giving birth to another Harry Potter—at least that's what the time travel books had indicated. "Let's put it this way," Harry amended, "it is impossible to be too paranoid when dealing with this dark lord. Always take precautions and always stick with people you trust."

Lily nodded, accepting Harry's advice without question. Though she had already been informed of the dark lord, Harry's personal rendition of the information was disquieting.

Harry hesitated for a little bit, but decided to throw caution to the wind. "I'd also like to give you a little bit of advice, Lily. Your friendship with Severus Snape is not a bad thing. However, he has certain problems. He will easily be seduced by the dark. Perhaps you can save him, but please do not throw your lot in with him. Choose someone with the nerve to stand against the dark lord from the start."

"Isn't it a little too early for me to date?" Lily asked, smiling impishly.

"Whatever," Harry muttered. "Just stay safe."

"I will, Professor Ashworth. I guess I'd better leave you to your work." She turned around and walked away.

Before she could make it out of the door, though, Harry called her back. "Lily," he said.

"Yes?"

Harry removed the ring he had been given by Romulus Malfoy, the twin to the one Cygnus Black had possessed. He now had the Malfoy ring, and thus did not need to keep one of the other two. "Take this," he said. "If you are ever in a bad situation and need help, twist the jewel. I'll do what I can to help you. I promise."

Lily accepted the ring and slipped it onto a finger on her right hand. "Thanks, professor. I think it is a very pretty ring."

With that, she was gone. Harry quickly finished his business with what would now be Professor Slughorn's papers and records. A quick check of all the drawers and cupboards ensured that he had everything that was his. Finally, he checked his pockets to ensure that the shrunken trunks and boxes filled with his possessions were still there. He was ready to leave.

He trudged to the entrance hall and was there greeted by a very pale-looking Bellatrix. The sad expression on her face and her posture made her look very fragile. Bellatrix stepped forward and hugged Harry briefly. "It's my fault," she said quietly.

"It's all right," Harry said. "Really. There's tons of stuff I should be doing. I'll just find a place to stay and then get busy. It's not like I really need a job anymore."

"Yeah," said Bellatrix. "You do have all the Black money."

"And the Malfoy money," Harry said quietly so as not to be overheard by anyone who might be nearby. "Romulus gave me his ring and had me empty the Malfoy vault."

Bellatrix beamed a smile. "That's the best news I've heard all day. I don't suppose you got any Malfoy property, though."

"No," said Harry. "I guess he couldn't do that."

"So Lucius will still inherit quite a bit," Bellatrix mused. "He'll be able to slowly build another fortune."

"Better than him getting all the gold from the start," Harry replied.

"True," said Bellatrix. "Where will you stay?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I haven't given it much thought."

"Maybe you should stick to renting rooms until I can join you," Bellatrix suggested. "My father used to buy and sell property. I think I could find us a good deal for a flat that can be easily warded. I know a few useful strategies."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry said. "I've been thinking about communication. I can do the projection spell and meet you here at Hogwarts."

"I didn't realize that," Bellatrix said, looking vaguely excited. "It's a brilliant idea, though. You'll find me in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to finish cutting up the basilisk carcass. If I'm not there, check the Room of Requirement second."

"Actually, I have a slight idea," Harry said, remembering how he had given Lily one of Malfoy's rings. "That ring your father had, it was something Malfoy had given him. If you twist the jewel, it kind of jolts the Malfoy family ring." He held up his hand. "Give it a twist and I'll meet you in the Room of Requirement as soon as I possibly can."

Bellatrix arched one her eyebrows. "That's a special ring," she observed. "However, I'd prefer the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to be spending all of my free time there. I won't send a signal if I'm not there."

"Okay," said Harry, wondering why she'd prefer that place.

"All right," said Bellatrix.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I guess I'll see you around." It was beginning to sound like the end of an awkward date. Harry settled for a handshake and departed. Thankfully, Bellatrix did not choose to sit and forlornly watch him leave. She retreated up one of the staircases as Harry exited through the castle's main entrance.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lord Voldemort was in agony. The method by which Romulus Malfoy had attempted to strike down the dark lord had been notable for its ability to leave the victim, if he or she survived, in extreme pain. Some potions were not meant to be forcefully lit on fire. For Voldemort, the effects had been disastrous. His head and hands had received severe burns. Healing spells and potions had only been able to do so much. Now, he was left with tender, ugly scar tissue. Worse, he still felt like he was on fire. This did little for his mood.

The door to the room in which Voldemort sat alone opened to admit one of the Lestrange brothers. He approached slowly. "My lord," intoned Rodolphus Lestrange, "Lucius and Mulciber have returned from Gringotts."

"Send them in to report," Voldemort directed stiffly. He didn't want to move the muscles on his face anymore than absolutely necessary.

"As you command," Rodolphus replied, drawing back from the dark lord and moving to the door. He exited, leaving the dark lord alone for a moment.

Voldemort drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, attempting to master his feelings. Satisfied that he felt serene enough to deal with incompetent fools, he opened his eyes and stiffly turned his head to make sure his face was still in the shadows of the room. It wouldn't do to let his followers see the extent of his injuries.

Eventually, Lucius and Mulciber entered the room. Instantly, Voldemort ascertained that they were the bearers of bad tidings. This was disconcerting because Voldemort had been more than sure that they could not possibly fail to accomplish the mission on which they had been sent.

"Report," Voldemort hissed. Ruefully, he realized that he was already losing his temper, but reassured himself by clinging to the fact that hissing did not require much facial movement.'

Neither Lucius nor Mulciber wanted to be the one to break the news, so a brief contest of wills ensued. Mulciber won. He was older and more intimidating. There was also the truth that he had been connected to Voldemort for a number of years. He nudged Lucius forward.

Lucius promptly fell to his knees. "My lord," he choked, "there was no gold in the vault."

"How can this be?" Voldemort demanded. His injuries and being in the shadows prevented him from showing anger on his face, but he made sure that Lucius could hear the malice dripping from his tone of voice.

Lucius was too scared to speak. Finally, Mulciber chimed in. "My lord," he said in an oily voice, "the goblins implied that the gold had been withdrawn by one who presented the Malfoy family ring."

"When?" Voldemort demanded.

"Perhaps last night," Mulciber ventured. "They were not very forthcoming on the matter. They did assure us that the Malfoy assets and properties are intact, however."

"Could your mother be the possessor of the gold?" Voldemort asked Lucius.

"It may be a possibility," Lucius admitted eagerly.

"It's unlikely," Mulciber countered. "We already know that Mrs. Malfoy is in France. Given her personality and quirks, I doubt she would have returned home so quickly, even for the death of her husband. Romulus Malfoy apparently had a contingency plan to be executed in the event of his death."

Voldemort desperately wanted to pace. However, that would require his standing from the chair. That would require him to put weight on his hands as he pushed against the armrests. The burned state of his hands made that an unattractive option. Consequently, he was forced to remain sitting and to seethe inwardly.

"There are a number of avenues we might pursue," Mulciber continued.

"Be quiet," Voldemort snapped. "I'm thinking."

Mulciber snapped his mouth shut, thoroughly embarrassed. He didn't have to fear for his reputation with Lucius, however. The young Malfoy was on the edge of blubbering, though it was not clear whether the thought of having displeased the dark lord or having been deprived of a vast fortune was more unsettling to him.

"Harry Ashworth was at Malfoy Manor when the attack commenced," Voldemort declared.

"If you say so, my lord," Mulciber said.

"He was," Voldemort snapped impatiently, "but he left, not even attempting to help Malfoy defend the manor."

"A possible turncoat, then?" Mulciber asked.

"A messenger on an errand," Voldemort retorted. "Romulus Malfoy was a defiant sod. I suspect he sent Ashworth to arrange for the gold to be removed from the Malfoy vault. Either Harry Ashworth has the gold, or he knows who does."

"What should we do, then?" Mulciber inquired.

"Bring me Harry Ashworth, alive," Voldemort commanded. "That is our first priority. Every single person is to focus on it and work together. Even if snatching Ashworth risks showing our hand publicly, do it. We need that gold. Now, leave me."

Mulciber and Lucius wasted no time in departing from the dark lord's presence. In only a few seconds, Voldemort was left alone. As soon as this occurred, he very awkwardly rose to his feet and began pacing furiously.

He had figured Ashworth as being a stooge of the Blacks and Malfoy. Apparently, Ashworth's involvement now ran deeper. Toward the end, Romulus Malfoy had apparently viewed Ashworth as a partner, or at least successor, in their defiance against the dark lord. Did Orion Black plan that all along? Voldemort mused. Was old man Black that canny?

If so, new avenues of speculation were open to Voldemort. If Romulus Malfoy had been so bold as to leave Harry with the care of his gold, could Orion Black have been so bold? Perhaps Cygnus Black could have made a similar decision. That would solve one mystery over which Voldemort had already spent time speculating. Who was the Head of House Black, and who controlled the Black fortune?

~!~!~!~!

Guiltily, Harry was basking in luxury. He simply had been unable to resist the desire—not with all the money he now had. His deprivation under the hand of the Dursleys and the rough conditions of the war against Voldemort in the future had left in Harry a deep desire to indulge himself at least occasionally. Now, for him, the cost of a suite at one of London's more luxurious hotels was pocket change, as was room service.

Harry had checked into the hotel shortly after noon and had slept away most of the afternoon and a good part of the evening. Though he was now sorely tempted to order room service for dinner, or pay a visit to the luxurious restaurant downstairs, he had a dinner appointment that he reckoned he should honor. It was with Alastor Moody.

He quickly changed into some clean clothes and was on his way to be interrogated by Moody as they had dinner. He found the auror waiting for him, as arranged via owl, near a tube station.

"Nice of you to come, Ashworth," Moody growled in what Harry recognized as a semi-friendly voice. Most people would have been intimidated, but Harry did have the benefit of having known Moody fairly well in the future.

"It's not like I don't have spare time," Harry replied.

"Yeah, I heard about Slughorn returning to Hogwarts," Moody admitted.

Harry vaguely wondered how much the auror knew. His suspicion was that Dumbledore would have told Moody everything. Harry's relations to the Black family, and thus to Bellatrix, would be of some interest to those Dumbledore may have assembled to start the Order. "Shall we pick a place to eat?" Harry asked.

It only took them a few moments to choose a muggle restaurant once Harry made it clear that he was willing to pay for both dinners. For some reason, this made Moody rather pleased, though somewhat suspicious. They were soon settled in and waiting for their food.

"Now, Mr. Ashworth," Moody began, "the next few questions are official. Can you describe to me the events that occurred at Malfoy Manor last night?"

"Yes," said Harry. He had spent time since sending an owl to Moody rehearsing what he would say. Harry then briefly related everything that had happened, omitting only the specific details of the conversation between he, Malfoy, and Cygnus, as well as the detail about Malfoy sending him to Gringotts to evacuate the Malfoy gold.

"So Lucius Malfoy is the one that made it all possible," Moody mused.

"Apparently," Harry said. "It should have occurred to me that Lucius would have access to Malfoy Manor."

Moody shook his head. "No, it should have occurred to Romulus. Don't worry yourself about what might have happened, Ashworth."

"Aren't you going to ask me why I didn't rush to notify the aurors?" Harry asked.

Moody shook his head. "We got the alert quicker than you might think. By the time you had escaped the anti-apparition wards, we were already trying to break through them. If you want to share, though, feel free."

"No," said Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "I guess it just goes back to what you said about worrying about what might have happened."

"Indeed," Moody said.

The server arrived with their food and they were soon too busy eating for significant conversation. Eventually, their appetites were satisfied enough for them to resume and focus on the topic.

"I think we've already covered everything with which the Ministry is concerned," Moody said slowly. "However, for my, ah . . . my personal curiosity, I have some questions I'm hoping that you could answer."

Instantly, Harry realized that Moody was now fishing on behalf of the Order. Harry was willing to feed them information. He had already made that decision. He might have even brought it up with Dumbledore if it weren't for his being dismissed from Hogwarts. "What do you want to know?" Harry asked, deliberately lowering his voice as if what he might share could be very secret and very valuable.

It seemed to have the proper effect on Moody, for he instinctively lowered his voice also. "Well, Ashworth, you served as a private advisor for the Blacks. I assume that you're privy to the information they had on the dark lord. I'm even hoping that you might be privy to some of their sources."

Harry nodded slowly, thinking carefully. Quickly, this was transforming into a better opportunity than he had realized or hoped for. With Orion, Cygnus, and Romulus dead, none of them could dispute anything Harry said about what they might have known, thought, or did. Harry could feed the Order, through Moody, information of which the patriarchs had known nothing about. There was also nothing to prevent him from hiding himself as the source of information. There was even the possibility of continuing to "receive" information from the sources of the late patriarchs. Without joining the Order, Harry could have a major influence on it.

"Anything I say is officially of the record, right?" Harry said.

"I'm not going to blab about it at the Ministry, if that's what you mean," Moody retorted. "But if you give me bad information, I'm going to come after you."

"Fair enough," Harry said. He grabbed the pen that the server had provided alongside the bill for the food. Slowly, he wrote "Lord Voldemort" on an unused napkin. "This is the name of the dark lord. Please don't think I'm afraid to say it aloud—I'm not a coward—but Orion reckoned that this guy might have a way of detecting when people were talking about him. We always found other ways to refer to him."

Moody accepted the napkin from Harry and studied Voldemort's name. "Interesting," he said. "Surely this isn't his birth name."

"We can always hope," Harry said, smirking.

"I say that because it could be useful to find out more about the dark lord's background," Moody pointed out.

Harry nodded. "I see. Well, I think Orion was on the same path right before he passed away. Maybe if I poke around I can dig up some information on the dark lord's past."

"Why don't you do that?" Moody said gruffly, almost as if he were assigning Harry to do it.

"All right," said Harry, sipping his glass of water. It would be ridiculously easy of course. He would just need to arrange another meeting with Moody and then dramatically declare that the dark lord was none other than Tom Riddle, Jr. He would make a point of emphasizing the junior part. It wouldn't be all down time between now and telling Moody the dark lord's birth name, however. Harry had a lot of stuff to do, and he would of course need to continue pursuing the battle against Voldemort.

"How long do you think it will take you to find out?" Moody asked.

"A few days," Harry shrugged. He'd have to see what his schedule was like and how bored he was. "I'll owl you when I have something."

Moody frowned and Harry feared for a moment that the auror wasn't entirely satisfied with the terms of their little arrangement. It turned out the frown was for another reason. "I think we need to find a more clandestine way to communicate," the auror declared.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Moody. "I can't have folks constantly wondering from whom I am receiving owls on a regular basis. You also will want to lay low. This dark lord might want you dead. There's also Prewitt to consider."

Harry frowned. "Prewitt? What does he want from me?"

"At the moment, you're in the clear," Moody said. "However, if it becomes politically expedient, you could become a target."

Harry knew too well the sort of trouble a Minister of Magic could cause for him. Though Harry could back up everything that had happened via a truth potion, he did not want to risk being forced to admit to having taken the Malfoy gold. There was also the fact that being innocent didn't always protect one from the Ministry. "All right," said Harry, "I'll make an effort to not avoid notice. What do you suggest for communicating?"

Moody spent a few minutes considering this question. He glanced out the window and his eyes fell upon a lamppost just outside of the restaurant. "Let's get out of here," he said gruffly. "I've got an idea."

The two were soon standing out on the sidewalk next to the lamppost. "All right," said Harry, "tell me what you got."

Moody glanced around to make sure that no one was observing them. He then drew his wand and pointed at the lamppost. On a small plate attached to the metal pole, a series of numbers and letters appeared. It looked as if the number had been stamped onto the plate by the foundry itself. "It's a date and time," Moody declared. "The first number is the day of the month. The next few letters are an abbreviation for a month. Then, the next numbers are a time. When you're ready to meet with me, use your wand to set the date and time. Then, when the meeting comes, we'll meet at the same tube station we started at this evening."

"Isn't this a little over the top?" Harry complained.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody said vigorously. "We can't be too careful."

"Yeah, okay," Harry replied. "So you're going to check this lamppost every day? What if you want to meet with me? What do you do?"

"I'll change the day of the month to something higher than thirty-one," Moody said. "Let's say that the higher the number, the more urgent it is I meet you."

"Fine," said Harry. "What's the latest time of day I can put a message on here for you, assuming I want to meet on the same day?"

"Let's say five in the evening," Moody said.

"Great," said Harry.

"All right," said Moody. "I need to go. I'll be looking for your sign, Ashworth. Don't forget to check for mine."

Harry nodded and said goodbye to Moody before walking off into the dark streets of London.

23. Preparing a Cold War

A/N: I went on vacation . . . . :) Thank you as always for your reviews. They're very helpful.

Chapter 22

by

Lord Silvere

Harry visited Gringotts the next morning and made the acquaintance of Silverknuckle, the goblin assigned to manage his combined assets. Silverknuckle proved to be the friendliest goblin Harry had ever met, if not the most boring. As the goblin droned on about finance, Harry began to suspect that not even Professor Binns could have achieved among his classes such a level of boredom.

Owing to the circumstance of Harry having just recently assumed control of the Black assets, Silverknuckle wanted to review every minute detail of the Black estate with Harry and receive guidance on what priorities Harry desired the bank to pursue on his behalf. There was also the added situation of the Malfoy gold. Though Harry had placed the account under a false name, Silverknuckle knew it was Harry's and was of the opinion that the liquid capital could be used as a catalyst to increase the annual income of the Black estate.

Harry agreed with this strategy, somewhat, but he made it clear to the goblin that he expected to be able to draw on a fairly large amount of cash at any particular time. Silverknuckle assured Harry that this would be more than possible.

At lunchtime, Harry was invited to dine with approximately one dozen goblins. Glad for the opportunity to escape Silverknuckle for an hour or two, Harry was soon disappointed to discover that the invitation to lunch had been quite mercenary. The goblins who had invited him were stock brokers, and they knew he was from the future. They assured Harry that they could make a killing on the stock market with his assistance. The incentive for Harry was what they called "consulting fees."

Between bites of a mysterious casserole, Harry convinced them that "fees" should actually be "percentages." They, in turn, convinced Harry that some of his own money could be used in a number of investments, and that they, the goblins, would get a consulting fee. Harry agreed, and between their rapid-fire questions about various companies and products Harry could remember being popular, he was able to finish his lunch.

Harry was remanded back to Silverknuckle who was able to conclude the bank's business with Harry in about an hour. It was then Harry's turn, and he commenced with a number of requests related to his ability to access funds. He also made a number of other requests. The business was simple, and Harry was free to leave once his requests, including a substantial withdrawal, had been completed. He had previously planned on visiting the Black vault, but was simply so sick of Gringotts that he opted to come back another day.

The afternoon sunshine was beautiful, and Harry stopped to bask in it for several moments before making his way toward the luggage shop. It was on his way to the shop that Harry developed the suspicion that he was being followed. As he walked into the shop, he observed the reflection of the street in the front window and mentally noted the faces of some likely suspects.

"Can I help you?" inquired the shopkeeper, a middle-aged wizard.

"Yes," said Harry briskly. "I need eighteen strongboxes with enlarged interiors. They must be quite durable and weather resistant."

The shopkeeper frowned briefly, but quickly changed his facial expression to that of a helpful smile. "We don't have that kind of inventory on hand, but we can put an order in and have it forwarded directly to your home via owl."

"Excellent," Harry said, having already expected that such a small shop would not have eighteen of anything on hand.

The middle-aged wizard pulled a well-thumbed catalog from underneath the sales counter and with practiced ease, flipped to the precise section of the catalog containing strongboxes. He made a few suggestions for the sake of maintaining a helpful demeanor, but, realizing that Harry knew what he wanted, refrained from talking any further while Harry perused the options. Unbeknownst to the shopkeeper, Harry was also shooting furtive glances to the street outside. There were two wizards loitering just outside of the shop. One was of medium build and medium weight. The other was rather tall and hefty. Harry dubbed them Big and Bigger.

"These will do," Harry announced, pointing to a selection in the catalog.

The shopkeeper grabbed the catalog and rang Harry up. It was the biggest sale of the week for him. Not afraid to reveal his identity, Harry signed a draft for his Gringotts account and departed with repeated assurances from the shopkeeper that his order would be submitted to the manufacturer by the end of the day.

Harry offered a polite farewell and exited the shop, his defensive senses on high alert. The clandestine and rather inconvenient method of communication Moody had insisted upon the night previous, and the reminder of constant vigilance, had vividly revived Harry's memories of the war. He was allowing himself to be consumed by old defensive habits and instincts.

Big and Bigger followed Harry to the apothecary where he purchased a large number of ready-made potions. Seeing that he had already made arrangements for his order of strongboxes to be shipped to him, Harry also requested that the potions be owled, reminding himself that his fancy hotel room had a decent balcony. If the loiterers meant mischief, Harry didn't want to be burdened with too many purchases.

As Harry walked toward Wanda and Wandel's shop, or rather toward the shop of Wanda and Wandel's descendants, Harry mulled over a number of options that he might use to deal with Big and Bigger. Harry was somewhat confident that they weren't Order members. He was also reasonably sure that they weren't from the Ministry—Moody seemed to be in charge of investigating Cygnus's assassination, and he knew how to contact Harry. The only other feasible option was that they were agents of Voldemort.

He strode into Wanda and Wandel's cheap wand shop and rang the bell. The woman, whose name Harry recalled was Wendy, emerged from the back. She recognized Harry and seemed happy for a business opportunity. "Welcome," she breathed. "Have you decided to replace your wand?"

"Not precisely," Harry said curtly. "I wish to purchase a case of your wands."

"A case?" Wendy asked, very surprised.

"Yes," said Harry an entire case. "How many wands is that?"

"One hundred and fifty," Wendy replied. "At five galleons a piece, that comes out to—"

"One hundred and fifty galleons," Harry said.

"You're mistaken, dear," Wendy rebutted. "It's seven hundred and fifty."

"No," said Harry. "I won't pay more than a galleon for each wand. I know full well where you get them and how worthless they truly are. At one galleon a piece, you're still making a profit equal or greater to what you would during a slow month."

"One galleon for each is rather low," Wendy said, wetting her lips.

Harry knew full well that he could press his offer and back it with some well-placed threats, but he wasn't in the mood to dicker with the woman over the price. "Two hundred galleons for the case of wands," he said. "Final offer."

Wendy caved and the money exchanged hands. Harry accepted a case of wands from her and departed, resisting the urge to glare balefully at Big and Bigger who were loitering outside of the shop, waiting for Harry to emerge. Harry had been planning on one last stop to a shop in Muggle London, but he was now thoroughly annoyed with his tails and decided to delay the visit, lest they stopped following him too soon. He now wanted to nail them.

The next destination was the Leaky Cauldron where Harry set his newly-acquired case of wands on a chair, occupied another, and ordered dinner from the barkeep. The loiterers were forced to follow him in, and they too occupied a table and ordered drinks.

Harry made dinner a long affair as he toyed with the two wizards that had apparently been assigned to follow him. Whenever it seemed like he was done and about ready to leave, Harry would order a dessert or drink while he thumbed through the newspaper. Clearly, the watchers were frustrated, but for one reason or another, they were willing to stick to their prey.

Eventually, the sun went down, and Harry was ready. Neither of the wizards had left his sight, so Harry was confident that he had only the two of them with which to deal. There was little chance that they had found a way to summon other friends. Abandoning his table, Harry grabbed the case of wands and stepped into the bathroom. He pried it open and retrieved one of Wanda and Wandel's specials.

Harry secured the case, exited the bathroom, and handed it to the barkeep, requesting that the case be held until he called for it later. Then, unwrapping the wand, Harry slowly and deliberately stepped out of the pub and made his way into Diagon Alley.

Sure enough, the two watchers abandoned their own table and casually made to follow Harry. Smiling grimly, Harry discarded the wrapping from his new, shoddy wand and set a brisk pace down Diagon Alley toward Knockturn Alley as he drew his yew and phoenix feather wand and placed it in his right hand. He held the wand of indeterminate material in his left hand.

Just as the entrance to Knockturn Alley came within Harry's sight, Big and Bigger exited the Leaky Cauldron and realized that Harry had increased his pace. They began to move quickly so that they could make up for lost time.

Deliberately, Harry looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with them. Doing his best to look surprised and distressed, Harry turned his head forward and started running. Realizing that their cover was officially blown, but also feeling confident that they could chase down Harry successfully, Big and Bigger also started running.

Harry rounded the corner into Knockturn Alley and increased his pace, now paying close attention to his surroundings, looking for the perfect place to make his stand, or rather, lay his ambush. Big and Bigger were now in Knockturn Alley and were keeping Harry within view, though they were having difficulty closing the gap between them and him.

A couple of shops sparked Harry's memory of other visits to Knockturn Alley, and Harry suddenly knew where he wanted to ambush his followers. Taking a panicked look over his shoulder that was calculated to urge the pursuers on, Harry darted around a corner and raced toward a t-shaped intersection.

As Harry raced toward the dead end, he pointed his wand to the ground and whispered the spell to project his image. "Ego exertus!" Casting the spell was no problem, but moving his body and his image simultaneously proved slightly nauseating for Harry.

Harry's physical body, now invisible, took a left at the dead end while the visible image projection of Harry's body took a right. Harry stopped physically running, though he pressed his image on just a little bit further.

In an attempt to make it so he could stop the nausea and more firmly grasp his bearings, Harry quickly ensured that his physical body was about ten feet away from the t-shaped intersection, and that it had its left hand outstretched, the cheap wand aimed dead ahead toward his projected image. He then focused his senses on his projected image.

The pounding footsteps of his pursuers came within earshot. Harry made his projected image bend over as if he was out of breath and panting. Big and Bigger rounded the corner and spotted Harry's image immediately. They pointed their wands at Harry's image.

"I think you can stop right there," growled Bigger.

"Stupefy!'" yelled Big, not wasting time on smart remarks. He could see the image of Harry's wand pointed toward him. The beam of red light passed harmlessly through Harry's projected image. Confused, Big and Bigger stared at Harry.

Harry smirked at the pair of toughs. "Stupefy multiplicitus!"

Several stunners exploded from the cheap wand that Harry's invisible body was holding. Hit by multiple stunners, Big and Bigger fell to the ground, both unconscious. Harry cancelled the image projection spell and was soon fully in his own body, clutching a wand in each hand.

With both amusement and annoyance, Harry noted that the recently-purchased Wanda and Wandel wand was smoking, having been pushed to the edge of its capacity. Deciding that it might still be good for very basic spells, Harry pocketed it and then walked over to the unconscious wizards. A quick glance up and down the street revealed that nobody was around.

Harry used a spell to restrain Big and Bigger, then revived them. "Who sent you after me?" Harry demanded briskly, glaring at them.

"None of your business!" Bigger retorted, struggling against his restraints.

Harry rolled his eyes and with a couple of quick jabs of his wand vanished their sleeves. Surprisingly, Harry found no Dark Marks on their wrists. "So," said Harry quietly, "you haven't been branded yet."

"What are you talking about?" Big demanded, his voice betraying a little bit of fear.

"Tell me what I want to know," Harry commanded, doing his best to imitate Voldemort's trademark hiss. "Who sent you after me?"

"You'll never know," Bigger said loudly, looking back and forth down the alley to see if there were any bystanders that might step in and save them from Harry. There were none.

Harry examined both of them, staring at them with what he hoped was an intimidating expression on his face. He also tried to connect with his magical core and bring some of his power to the surface. His friends from the future had told them that it energized his green eyes.

Big grew very fearful, but Bigger only became more defiant, though said defiance wasn't so much bravery as it was stupid nobility. Harry realized that he wasn't going to get much out of Bigger, though the wizard could still prove useful.

Smiling thinly, Harry waved his wand and levitated Bigger. Harry walked briskly around the corner he'd been chased around, Bigger floating in the air behind him. He set Bigger down on the street, cast a sound distortion charm around them, and then hit Bigger with the most powerful tickling charm Harry could ever remember casting. Harry then conjured a number of firecrackers and set them off. For five minutes, Bigger howled with laughter, though Big, who was sitting around the corner, heard only screams and grunts mixed in with an occasional bang and sizzle.

Harry eventually stunned Bigger before returning to where Big was sitting and sweating it out. Big was ready to tell Harry everything. Without asking, he told Harry every detail he could remember.

"There's a pub down deeper in Knockturn," he gasped, almost as if Harry had tortured him instead of his companion. "It's called the Serpent's Fang. There's a wizard who goes there sometimes. He's offering a reward for anyone who can engineer your capture."

"Tell me more," Harry said.

"That's all I know! By Merlin, I swear!"

"So you just randomly decided to go into the kidnapping business?" Harry said dryly.

"The reward was good—one hundred galleons. Technically, all we had to do was find you and them summon this other bloke, but we got greedy, thought we could barter for more if we captured and held you," Big declared piteously.

"Capture, you say," Harry mused thoughtfully. "What about kill?"

"No. The instructions were specific. You had to be captured alive."

"Wonderful," Harry said. Deciding that he was not likely to get any more information from Big or Bigger, Harry slashed his wand down and obliviated Big. He then rounded the corner, performed the same spell on Bigger, and departed from Knockturn Alley via apparition as he wondered how it was that not a single passerby had appeared to interfere in the whole affair.

~!~!~!~!

Harry stopped at the Leaky Cauldron, fetched his case of wands from the barkeep, and then under disguise, made his way back to his hotel. Harry decided that he would have to start switching hotels more frequently now, though he decided that one more night of luxury wouldn't hurt anything. He entered his room, set the case down on one of the tables and went to freshen up.

Just as he was wondering what he should do next, the Malfoy ring twitched on Harry's finger. It startled him slightly, but he calmed himself, realizing that it was probably Bellatrix requesting him to come for a chat. He focused his senses on the ring, and this fact was confirmed. The scant detail available to him through the ring indicated that she was in the Chamber of Secrets, as promised.

Harry drew his wand, ensured that the door to his room was bolted and magically locked, and then went to cast the image projection spell for the second time that night. He stopped short, however, realizing that perhaps he did not have to stand while casting it. He was likely to spend as much as a half hour talking with her. To stand erect all that time, motionless, would be somewhat taxing for Harry.

Feeling experimental, Harry strode over to his hotel bed and laid down on it, shifting until he felt comfortable. He then adjusted his wand arm so that his wand wasn't pointing into the bed or trapped under a pillow. "Ego exertus!" he whispered.

Abruptly, he felt his conscious mind zoom away from the hotel room. It felt rather like he was flying, though everything around him was a blur. Effortlessly, he felt his presence weave through London. Unbidden, the memory of Moody's lamppost came to mind, and Harry realized that he had forgotten to check it. He moved his senses toward it.

As he approached it, Harry slowed down. The blur that had been his surroundings coalesced into the street with the lamppost. Wasting no time, Harry glanced at it to discover that nothing had changed. There was no signal from Moody. Without pause, Harry resumed his travel and felt acceleration as his senses zoomed toward Hogwarts.

The countryside passed by beneath him. Soon, he found the railroad tracks used by the Hogwarts Express and followed them the rest of the way. In total, the journey took him about half an hour before he spotted Hogwarts. Relying on a previous guess that the Chamber of Secrets was near the bottom of the lake, Harry zoomed down into the ground, feeling rather strange as he passed through the solid matter. Though he didn't find the chamber immediately, a little crisscrossing got him there within a few minutes.

He coalesced directly into the Chamber of Secrets where he discovered Bellatrix carving the hide off of the basilisk carcass. The sight was disgusting. Bellatrix had flayed approximately half of the monster, leaving most of the meat and guts intact. The front half of the snake didn't look like much of a snake anymore.

Bellatrix herself was too occupied to notice Harry's arrival, so Harry opted to surprise her. Remembering that there was a possibility that he could project images and sounds that weren't completely true to his nature, Harry attempted to imitate Professor Dumbledore's voice.

"I didn't expect to see you down here, Miss Black," Harry said.

Bellatrix froze before turning around, holding a rather large knife. Harry relished the appearance of her violet eyes which had widened as a result of her being startled. As soon as she saw that it was only Harry's projected image, she glared. "Hilarious," she said, turning back to her task. "It only took you a decade to get here. Congratulations."

"Apparently I can only move my image so fast," Harry said, returning his voice back to normal. Quietly, Harry watched her work on the carcass for a few moments. "So, how have things been?"

"Same as always," Bellatrix retorted.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"No," Bellatrix replied. "I hate Slughorn."

"Why?"

"He isn't you," Bellatrix mumbled, jabbing her knife deeply into the basilisk's carcass as she attempted to separate a portion of hide from the fat and muscle. "Even the other students are sad to see you go. They all think Slughorn knows potions better, but they realize that you were a lot more . . . companionable."

Harry snorted. "Did I tell you that Dumbledore says I can come back and teach someday, but not potions?"

Bellatrix snickered. "Well, you weren't that great at teaching potions. I'm pretty sure that even I know more about potions than you do."

"I know more about Defense than you do," Harry said, feeling like he needed to defend himself.

"That is true," said Bellatrix, grinning evilly, "but I know more about the dark arts than you ever will. Maybe even enough to outdo you at Defense."

"Congratulations," Harry said, imitating her prior sarcastic remark. "Why don't you use it in our practice duels?"

Bellatrix frowned. "It wouldn't be a good idea, Harry." She desisted from carving the corpse, set down the knife, and removed the pair of gloves she had been wearing. "Let's get to the business at hand. My father's funeral is on Saturday."

"Will it be private?" Harry asked, curious about the quirky practices of the Black family.

"Hardly," Bellatrix replied, grabbing her wand and transfiguring a small rock into rocking chair on which to sit. "It'll be a state affair at the cemetery next to the Ravenbourgh ruins."

"Does that mean I'm invited?" Harry asked, still feeling guilty about not attending the funeral of Orion and wondering vaguely whether there might be a Malfoy funeral.

Bellatrix nodded. "You're free to come, but I recommend against it. If you do, try to avoid being noticed by the authorities or my family."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, feeling that in order to maintain the proper balance in the conversation he too should sit, even though it was just his image standing in the chamber. His real body was resting peacefully in his hotel room.

"I'm concerned that you could become a target of the dark lord. I think it would be better if you tried to stay in the periphery. We don't need anyone wondering if you control the Black fortune. There's also the fact that unless we need to strain for political capital, we should avoid reminding anyone that you were closely involved with my father."

"The dark lord is already after me," Harry said. Briefly, he explained about the incident in Diagon Alley and how he was now going to be careful about where he stayed and for how long.

Bellatrix was not thrilled. "You're going to have to take steps to get these people off of your back," she mused. "Offensive steps—not your hiding, defensive tactics."

"I've got some ideas," Harry said.

"Oh really?" Bellatrix said, the tone of her voice making it clear that she wanted details.

"I'll tell you later," Harry said, not wanting to reveal what he had up his sleeve. She probably wouldn't approve—at least that's what his friends from the future would have felt. Harry revised his thoughts and realized that instead of disapproving, Bellatrix would insist on participating. He didn't want that.

Bellatrix set her jaw and looked away from Harry, clearly annoyed that he was making plans without her. "Yeah, tell me when you feel like it," she said quietly.

"Just don't think about it," Harry said. "You're here in school. You don't need to worry about it."

"Whatever," she said, thrusting herself up out of the rocking chair. "I want to get this job finished. I've told you what I wanted you to know. If you want, you can stick around and watch . . . or you could go home."

For one reason or another, Harry opted to stay. Maybe it was because he was lonely in his hotel room or maybe it was because he enjoyed her company. Perhaps it was because he sensed that she was lonely. He wasn't sure which it was or which he wanted it to be, but he accepted it. "I'll stay for a while," Harry said.

"Great," said Bellatrix, acting noticeably more cheerful. "Maybe you can help."

"The spell is kind of limiting," Harry reminded her. "I'm not much good except for being your eyes and ears."

"Maybe you could do the phoenix fire spell," Bellatrix pressed. "If it is similar to the image projection spell, you're already halfway here."

Harry realized that he should make an attempt at the spell. Quickly, he reviewed the steps for the spell in his head and then combined those thoughts with the information he knew about the image projection spell. If he had everything correct, there was only a few steps missing.

"All right," Harry announced, "I'm going to give it a try."

Bellatrix nodded and stepped back a little bit.

Harry closed his eyes and attempted to focus his mind on both his image in the Chamber of Secrets and his body back in the hotel. He strained to draw a stronger connection between the two, a more substantial connection. Slowly, Harry thought he could feel his body on the hotel bed moving, but he stopped straining as soon as he realized that he was closer to casting a disastrous summoning spell than making the phoenix fire work. The thought of phoenix fire reminded Harry that the fire was to be channel of transportation. He focused on causing fire to absorb his body and projected image.

Warmth enveloped Harry and he felt his head clear, almost as if his body and projected image were no longer separated. This led to the realization that he must have succeeded. Before he could open his eyes, however, several gallons of cold water splashed over him. Supremely annoyed, Harry opened his eyes and glared at Bellatrix.

"You were on fire," she deadpanned.

"Hilarious," Harry growled.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The only thing that convinced Harry to get out of bed the next morning was the abundance of owls flying around his hotel room. Upon returning late in the night, he had stumbled over to the balcony and opened the door, hoping that the delivery owls expected in the morning would drop off their packages and be done. It didn't seem to work that way, however. They wanted his personal attention.

Groaning, Harry climbed out of bed and began untying the packages from their respective owls. Thoughtfully, he reflected on the semi-success of the phoenix fire transportation spell. He had been able to physically appear in the Chamber of Secrets, almost as if he had found a way to penetrate the famous apparition wards of Hogwarts. The downside was that it had left Harry completely exhausted. Bellatrix had theorized that it was because he had performed the phoenix fire and image projection spells simultaneously. She seemed to think that it would take Harry a lot less energy to transport himself once he could perform the phoenix fire spell without the image projection spell.

In the end, Harry has been so drained, that he had only been able to use the image projection and phoenix fire to get himself beyond the Hogwarts wards. From there, he had been able to apparate to his hotel room where he had climbed into bed and passed out.

Once the owls were relieved of their burdens, and their packages were spread across the room, Harry ordered breakfast from room service and took a shower. After his shower, he ate his breakfast and then moved onto handling his packages.

Harry unwrapped and opened each of the eighteen strongboxes as well as the cases containing the potions he had also bought. Methodically, he began dividing the potions equally between the strongboxes. Once the potions were gone, he dug out the case of wands and put five wands into each strongbox. Once the strongboxes had equal amounts of potions and wands, he retrieved a bag of money and liberally filled each box with both Muggle and magical currency.

At this juncture, Harry packed his possessions, shrunk his trunk and checked out of the hotel. Under a basic magical disguise, he proceeded to a large, Muggle toy store in London where he began wandering the aisles, looking for a specific product.

"Can I help you?" came a young man's voice.

Harry turned and spied a young store employee looking at him expectantly. "Yes," Harry acknowledged, "I'm looking for a Rubik's cube. I'd like to buy eighteen."

The employee looked dumbfounded. "A Rubik's cube?" he asked. "I've never heard of that."

Inwardly, Harry cursed the inconvenience of time travel. The puzzle probably had yet to be invented. On the other hand, the store clerk could very well be ignorant. "It's a puzzle cube," Harry explained. "It has lots of cubes that you can turn and with different colors."

"Oh," said the clerk, "a magic cube!"

"Of course," Harry said, "that's precisely what I meant." He reflected on how fortunate it was that the Muggles would never suspect time travel based on that slip.

Ten minutes later, Harry was the proud owner of eighteen magic cubes. From the Muggle toy store, he made his way to a new hotel in a less-busy part of London where he unpacked his possessions. He lined up the strongboxes on the floor next to each other. He then removed each magic cube from its packaging and lined them up on a desk. He fetched himself a glass of water and sat down at the desk in front of magic cubes. Setting the water glass on the table, Harry drew his wand and began his effort to replicate one of Hermione Granger's more ingenious creations—the multi-destination portkey.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix decided that few things were more boring and stifling than a state funeral—even if it was for her own father. Despite the threat of a rainy afternoon, droves of Ministry officials, employees, and enthusiasts had gathered at the cemetery next to the Ravenbourgh ruins to say goodbye to the remains of the late Minister of Magic.

Bellatrix was seated on the front row, squeezed in between her sisters, Narcissa and Andromeda. All three were stoic. Bellatrix had already dealt with her grief over the death of her father. Narcissa and Andromeda were stoic because neither of them had been very close to their father to begin with. On the other hand, Druella Black was shedding tears quite liberally while her sister-in-law, Walburga, put on a show of comforting her.

Crocodile tears, Bellatrix told herself. Unless, of course, mother is worried about money. In that case, the tears could very well be real.

Davian Prewitt was the chief speaker for the funeral. He had managed to resist formally assuming office until Minister Black was cold and buried, but nearly everyone there already considered him the Minister of Magic. As he droned on about Cygnus Black and the tragedy of his death, Bellatrix scanned the attendees of the funeral. Would the Death Eaters have the guts to show up? Probably not. Despite this, Bellatrix noticed a good number of aurors patrolling the perimeter of the funeral party. They were hoping.

Harry wasn't present. He had apparently decided to follow her advice to stay away. Bellatrix regretted this slightly. It would have been nice to see a friendly face. She scanned the front row, trying to avoid being obvious about it. In addition to her immediate family, her aunt and two cousins mothered by said aunt were present. Regulus Black seemed quite shaken by the death of his uncle so quickly after the death of his own father. Sirius was doing his best to sport an indifferent demeanor, but Bellatrix knew that he too was hurting.

Director Prewitt's family was also on the front row—a bold move in which Prewitt further staked his claim to be the successor of Cygnus Black. Gideon and Fabian Prewitt, famous public nuisances, but all-around decent blokes, sat next to Mrs. Prewitt, who was seated next to her married daughter, Molly Weasley, who was accompanied by her husband and children.

The Weasley clan was famous for its tendency to produce many children. It looked to Bellatrix like the former Miss Prewitt was well onto her way to continuing the tradition. If Bellatrix recalled correctly, Mr. Weasley was a low-ranked employee in the Ministry. That would probably change soon, what with his father-in-law becoming Minister of Magic.

Bellatrix continued her observations, and it helped pass the time. Eventually, the service ended. Many of the mourners remained to express their condolences to Bellatrix's mother and sister-in-law. As was proper, Bellatrix and her two sisters stood in a line near their mother looking very mournful in their dark robes. Sirius and Regulus were fortunate enough to have been returned to Hogwarts by someone going home to Hogsmeade.

As the afternoon slowly changed to evening, the mourners began to thin out. Bellatrix could see only three more people waiting to speak with Druella. It was at this moment that Narcissa opted to speak up and address Bellatrix. The two sisters had not really spoken with each other since the night Bellatrix had informed Narcissa that her romance with Lucius Malfoy was unacceptable.

"You don't want to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, do you?" Narcissa said.

"Of course not," Bellatrix said quietly.

"Why not?" Narcissa asked.

"He's an idiot," Bellatrix retorted, "among other things."

"He's a pureblood, though."

"What a relief," Bellatrix whispered snidely. "That fixes everything."

"Is Harry Ashworth a pureblood?" Narcissa asked.

"I can't say for sure," Bellatrix answered, glancing over to where her mother and aunt stood. Only two people were left waiting to speak with them. "He is very powerful, though."

"Powerful is good," Narcissa admitted. "What about rich?"

Bellatrix smirked. "He's very rich. In fact, you'd be shocked at how rich he is."

"Then why did he need a job at Hogwarts?" Narcissa asked.

"Politics," Bellatrix replied smoothly. "It was a political move."

"I see," Narcissa said, though she didn't. In fact, she was completely confused. "I guess you're planning on marrying him, then."

"That would be correct," Bellatrix said, observing that only one more person was waiting to speak with her mother.

"If that's your plan," Narcissa whispered, "I advise you to not go home or to Grimmauld Place tonight, not even for the family dinner. Get back to Hogwarts."

Bellatrix suddenly felt scared. "What are mother and auntie planning?" she asked.

"Now that father and uncle are dead and the Black fortune is tied up at Gringotts, mother and auntie are concerned about finding good matches for us to marry," Narcissa said quietly. "They reckon that the ten thousand galleons uncle left you is a suitable dowry. Rodolphus Lestrange is invited to dinner tonight. Mother and auntie want to get a marriage contract signed. You know how persuasive they can be."

"I do," Bellatrix breathed.

The last visitor had left. Bellatrix's mother and aunt were now turning their attention to the three girls. Bellatrix stood rooted to the spot, watching as her mother and aunt approached, their mourning faces looking rather imperious. Minister Black was dead, but the Black family would continue—toujours pur.

"Come," Druella said, "dinner has been prepared for us."

"I've got detention," Andromeda declared dispassionately. "I shan't be able to make it."

Druella was annoyed, but she produced a portkey from her pocket. She'd never like Andromeda very much anyway. "Then go."

"I'll go with her," Bellatrix volunteered.

"I think not," Walburga said lazily, holding back a yawn. "This is a very important dinner for you."

Andromeda shrugged at Bellatrix and then activated the portkey, leaving Bellatrix and Narcissa with their mother and aunt. Bellatrix felt rather betrayed, but she pressed on. "Why is this an important dinner for me, Aunt Walburga?" Bellatrix asked with false sweetness.

"You'll see when we get home," Druella said, producing another portkey from her pocket and preparing to activate it.

"If you're not telling me, then it must not be all that important," Bellatrix said. She drew her wand. "I'll just be on my way."

"It's time for you to get married," Walburga interjected.

"Is it?" Bellatrix asked, feigning surprise, though she had already come to the same conclusion. She glanced over at Narcissa. Her younger sister had drifted away from the group and was trying to pretend that she couldn't hear the conversation.

"It is," Walburga said. "I've taken the trouble to negotiate a marriage for you. The state of the Black family assets is in question, but I've been able to come to an agreement with a suitable young wizard—a pureblood. We've allowed you your pursuits, but it is now time for you to settle down and assume your family duties. You must marry a pureblood."

"I'll choose my own suitable wizard, thank you very much," Bellatrix replied primly.

"How dare you?" Druella demanded. "Your aunt has gone to a lot of trouble on your behalf. It is your duty to marry a suitable pureblood."

"I'm still in school," Bellatrix reminded them.

Druella sighed. "I know that, Bellatrix. However, events demand certain sacrifices. Our society has come to a crossroads. You can't afford to be in school at this important time. It is time for you to leave school and help shape the destiny of our world."

Bellatrix arched her eyebrows. "Do tell me more."

"Come to dinner and we'll tell you everything," Walburga said. "Rodolphus Lestrange will be waiting for us. You remember him. He's an excellent young man."

"Rodolphus?" Bellatrix asked, acting as if she had not known about him prior to her aunt's revelation. "You're consorting with him? Don't you realize that he's practically been expelled from Hogwarts?"

"Not expelled," Walburga said shortly. "He left, unable to bear being under the tutelage of that Muggle-loving headmaster."

"Is that so?" Bellatrix asked. Briefly, she considered revealing what had happened the night the Lestranges had left Hogwarts, but decided against it. It wouldn't convince the matriarchs of anything, and Rodolphus was sure to have already planted an explanation for anything she might say. "Have you been consorting with the Lestrange brothers often?"

"They've been around," Bellatrix's mother admitted. "Rodolphus cares a great deal for you."

Her violet eyes cold as ice, Bellatrix met her aunt's eyes. "You realize that they probably killed Orion. That makes you complicit in his murder."

Bellatrix's ears rang as her aunt viciously slapped her across the face. Her reflexes well-trained from numerous practice duels with Harry, Bellatrix brought her wand up and banished her mother and aunt away from her, following the spell with a couple of jinxes meant to miss them entirely and only intimidate them.

"I see I've found the truth," Bellatrix yelled at them, trying to hold back the tears that had come in response to her being slapped.

"You know nothing, you ungrateful child," Walburga hissed loudly, slowly bringing herself back to her feet. "Now that you can't hide behind your father, you'll learn about reality."

Bellatrix shot a couple of blasting spells at the gravestone behind Walburga to discourage her from any sudden moves. Druella, her mother, was still lying on the ground, groaning.

"You're a fool," Bellatrix yelled, unable to think of anything more poignant in the heat of the situation. "I'll marry who I please, and in time, you will have to admit that I chose more wisely than you could have." She glanced at Narcissa and tried to soften the expression on her face. "You're free to come with me."

Narcissa shrank back and shook her head after glancing at her mother and aunt who were quailing under the aim of Bellatrix's wand.

Bellatrix scowled at her younger sister. "Little idiot."

Bellatrix turned and began stalking away from the cemetery, leaving her mother and aunt quailing halfway behind a tombstone, her younger sister trying to stand apart from the confrontation.

"Do you really think Harry Ashworth is better than Rodolphus Lestrange?" Walburga yelled after Bellatrix. "He's a nobody!"

Bellatrix ignored her aunt and continued walking away from the gravestones

"If you leave tonight, I will strike you from the Black family!" Walburga shouted. "You will be disinherited. Your heritage will be nothing!"

Bellatrix, now in the tall grass bordering a stand of trees, spun around and pointed her wand in the general direction of her aunt, more than ready to cast a dangerous hex as the slightest provocation. "You don't have that power," Bellatrix screamed defiantly. "However, one day, I will be Lady Black. I will be mistress of this family. On that day, I will burn you from the family tapestry."

With that, Bellatrix waved her wand and apparated to just outside the gates of Hogwarts with an extremely loud popping noise. As she stalked through the gates and up to the castle, the incensed Bellatrix concluded that she did agree with at least one thing the matriarchs had said. It was time for her to leave Hogwarts and help shape the magical world's destiny. The House of Black will rise to power again, and I will be Lady Black, she vowed.

24. Allies Together

A/N: Many thanks for your reviews and words of encouragement.

Chapter 23

by

Lord Silvere

Peering through an inexpensive set of omnioculars, Harry grinned as he watched Bellatrix apparate away from the Blacks' ancestral cemetery. He would have loved to have heard what she had said to her mother and aunt. Perched high in the ruins of Ravenbourgh, Harry shifted his position and zoomed the omnioculars in on Walburga and Druella Black. They were now just recovering from the confrontation with the relatively whiter sheep of the family.

Harry watched from a distance as Walburga helped Druella to her feet. The sisters-in-law had a discussion. Their conversation was heated, but brief. Walburga apparated away. Druella stumbled over to where Narcissa Black was still trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She grabbed Narcissa and double-apparated the both of them away—presumably to their home.

With a small sigh, Harry lowered the omnioculars and checked the time on his watch. The formalities of the funeral had run longer than he had anticipated. He brought the omnioculars back to his eyes and scanned the cemetery and territory surrounding it. With the departure of the last Blacks, there now was nobody present. He deposited the omnioculars in a pocket and proceeded to pick his way through the ruins of Ravenbourgh, eventually climbing down to what had been the ground floor and then through a wall that had once been solid.

Harry stealthily made his way to Cygnus's grave in the cemetery. Upon arriving, he withdrew one of the strongboxes from a pocket and enlarged it to its normal size. He placed it on the ground next to him and then cast a number of spells to dig up the grave, piling the dirt on the other side of the hole from him.

When Harry could see Cygnus's coffin, he reached over with his foot and nudged the strongbox over the edge into the open grave. It hit Cygnus's coffin with a rather loud thud. Harry winced, feeling guilty for damaging the dead wizard's coffin. Shrugging away his guilt, Harry moved the dirt back into the hole and sealed up the grave, placing a number of basic wards to protect his little cache. Feeling more than a little bit obligated to pay his last respects, Harry stood in front of the grave for a few moments before indirectly apparating away to his next destination.

By the time Harry arrived at Privet Drive, the sun had dropped below the horizon. It was not yet completely dark, but it soon would be. Briskly, Harry moved through what had been the neighborhood of his childhood—or rather, what would be the neighborhood he remembered. It was still under construction. A few houses were complete, but most of the neighborhood was either houses under construction or empty lots.

Eventually, Harry arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive. It was half-built. The walls were up and the builder was in the process of putting bricks on the exterior. Harry couldn't remember whether the Dursleys had bought the house new or not, but it didn't really matter for his purposes.

Quietly, Harry walked into the construction site, ducking under the barriers meant to keep the public out. There were not yet any doors, so Harry was unimpeded as he walked into the house and stood in the front hall. He stopped and stared at his cupboard. The plasterboard hadn't been put up yet, so it didn't seem that small.

Sighing sadly at the memories of his childhood and feeling a vague tinge of anger just from thinking about the Dursleys, Harry moved to the fireplace. The hearth and chimney were already complete, though the mantelpiece had yet to be installed.

A wave of Harry's wand prompted the chimney bricks to split open to reveal the shaft. Harry removed another strongbox from one of his pockets, enlarged it, and deposited it into the chimney, about two feet above the fireplace opening. He added a few wards as well as a number of confundus charms and Muggle-repelling charms. His last spell restored the fireplace bricks to their original status. The Dursley's fireplace would never work, and they would never feel the prompting to wonder why. Harry smiled mischievously at this minor prank on the Dursley family even though it likely would never bother them. They had never used the fireplace when he had lived with them.

Harry approached the fireplace, kneeled down and stuck his hand up the chimney. He could feel the box resting just above the opening to the fireplace. Satisfied that it was accessible but protected from people who didn't already know it was there, Harry stood and stepped back.

He apparated again and found himself in a London alleyway. Quickly, he walked to a tube station and then into a public toilet. In a very dirty stall, he used his wand to alter his appearance somewhat drastically before apparating from the bathroom stall to Knockturn Alley.

Harry, disguised as tall, thin, and mean-looking wizard of middle age, appeared in front of the pub known as the Serpent's Fang, which was apparently a location from whence the occasional Death Eater recruited people to do his or her dirty work. Carefully, Harry relaxed his facial muscles and set a dispassionate expression on his temporary face. Harry then strode into the pub and up to the counter behind which the barkeep stood, a bored expression set on his face.

"Firewhiskey," Harry growled in a low voice. He had never been very good at using magic to disguise his voice and thus had opted to do without.

The barkeep looked blankly at Harry, but fulfilled the request. In but a moment, Harry had a tall glass of firewhiskey, and the barkeep had money to cover the drink and a little more.

Harry sipped his firewhiskey undisturbed for a few moments before being approached by one of the regulars, a tough-looking wizard.

"Haven't seen you around," the wizard said.

"I haven't been around," Harry said, attempting to make his voice sound slightly deeper.

"Why not?"

"Azkaban," Harry muttered, turning his back to the bar and leaning against it. "Before that, I was in Liverpool."

This seemed to satisfy his new friend for a few moments, but curiosity eventually reared its head again. "What's your name?"

"Dursley," Harry bit out. "Dudley Dursley. My friends call me Big D."

The tough-looking wizard looked Harry up and down. "You ain't big."

"Was before Azkaban," Harry said, taking a sip of his firewhiskey.

"I hear you," said the wizard.

Harry didn't respond.

"My friends call me Thorpe," the tough wizard finally admitted when he saw that Harry wasn't about to make the next move.

"Thorpe," Harry said by way of greeting, raising his whiskey glass a centimeter or two, only barely meeting the requirements of civility. He needed to establish friends, but he definitely didn't want to leave anyone with the impression that he was desperate.

~!~!~!~!~!

Firelight danced in Bellatrix's eyes as the basilisk corpse burned. Burning the carcass after removing the hide and extracting all usable potion ingredients had seemed very practical and easy in the first place, but Bellatrix was now annoyed. The stench was awful, and the carcass wasn't burning well. She cast several cleaning spells on herself and then another round of fire charms for the carcass.

Briefly, she considered fiendfyre before dismissing the thought as she glanced at her stack of potion ingredient cases stacked uniformly. If she made a mistake, they and the small fortune of basilisk parts inside would be reduced to ashes. Thus, she had been forced to settle for a less potent magical fire. At least it didn't put off too much smoke.

The potion ingredients on her mind, Bellatrix walked over and examined them again, making sure each case was secured. She then turned and sat down on one of the small stacks before casting another round of fire spells. Just as she finished casting the spells, Harry's image appeared in front of her.

"Bella, it's four in the morning," Harry groaned.

Bellatrix smirked as she examined Harry's appearance. It was clear that he was exhausted. "Stay up late?"

"I went to a pub called the Serpent's Fang and made some new friends," Harry yawned.

Bellatrix vaguely considered feeling guilty for bothering Harry, but quickly shoved the remorse aside. "You made good time," she pointed out. "It only took you a few minutes to get here. You're getting better at the image projection spell."

"Nope," said Harry. "I apparated to just outside of the Hogwarts wards before doing the spell."

"Cheater."

"You didn't have to wake up the next morning after casting that dumb thing across the country," Harry mumbled. He turned and surveyed the burning snake. "Looks like you've been busy."

"I have been," Bellatrix affirmed. "That actually brings us to the topic of why I asked you here."

"Oh, really?" said Harry.

"Yeah."

"Okay, so why am I here?"

"Well, ah, hmm," said Bellatrix. "Do you want the long story or the short story?"

"Short story, please."

Bellatrix smiled as sweetly as she could. "Today is the day I leave Hogwarts."

"The term isn't over," Harry quickly pointed out, slightly confused and suspicious.

"I take it you'll need the long story, then," Bellatrix said briskly, waving her wand and renewing the fire charms on the basilisk carcass.

Harry shook his head negatively. "I think I can piece it together. You're done harvesting the basilisk ingredients and then, this past evening, you had a big spat with your mother and aunt."

"You came to the funeral, didn't you?" Bellatrix accused him, though deep down, she was rather grateful to know that Harry had cared enough about her father and even perhaps her.

Harry shrugged. "I felt guilty at the thought of missing it."

"My mother and aunt want me to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, which probably isn't very surprising to you," Bellatrix informed Harry.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend doing it," Harry said sleepily. "However, I don't see how that means you should now leave Hogwarts and move in with me before summer even starts. You need to finish your schooling."

Bellatrix set her face into an expression of sweet, victimized innocence. "They might try to force me to marry Rodolphus," she said. "It would be better for everyone involved if I was under your protective influence."

Harry snorted.

"This is serious," Bellatrix growled. "They might try to force me."

"They can't force you. You've reached the age of majority, and I'm the head of the Black family, so they've got nothing on you there. In all honesty, I don't think that even I could force you to marry anybody."

"Yeah, well on a one to ten scale of ruthless, you're a zero and my aunt is five hundred and fifty."

"All right, so they're obnoxious," Harry admitted. "At Hogwarts, you can ignore them. When the summer comes, you'll have a place with me. Feasibly, you might never see your aunt or mother again."

"Okay," said Bellatrix. "What happens after I stay here until the end of the term and go home for the summer with you?"

"Well, I don't know. What are your summer plans? Majorca?"

"Very funny," Bellatrix said, beginning to get slightly cross. "I'm not going back for my seventh year. I'm going to be helping you fight the dark lord."

Harry couldn't argue against the merits of fighting the dark lord, and he knew that he would need help sooner than later. The Order would make an effort, and Minister Prewett would be relentless in his pursuit of Death Eaters, but Harry knew that the fight against Voldemort boiled down to him and Voldemort. Having someone at his side that he could trust would be a boon. There were still other facets of the decision to consider, however.

"What about your NEWTs?" Harry asked. "How are you supposed to pass those?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Why do people get NEWTs, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Because they should?"

"So they can get a job, Harry. Do you really think I'm going to go around looking for a job anytime soon? Harry, we're possibly the richest people in all of Britain!"

"Eh, you're still presupposing that we're going to get married."

"Aren't we?" Bellatrix asked, trying to peer into Harry's green eyes intently.

"I haven't committed to that," Harry said stubbornly, avoiding her direct gaze.

"Why not?" asked Bellatrix. "We could do it today."

"I just don't want to jump into it," Harry grumbled.

"Fine," groused Bellatrix. "We don't have to do the marriage today. However, so far, your only objection to me leaving Hogwarts is that I won't earn my NEWTs. I don't need them, and I can always get them later. Where does that leave us?"

"I don't know."

"It sounds like I'm moving in with you today," announced Bellatrix.

Harry closed his eyes and searched for a reason to deny her. In the end, he came up empty. "Fine," he said, giving in.

"Great," said Bellatrix, noticeably happier. "I'll run up, grab my trunk from my dorm, and then you can phoenix fire us out of here."

"I'm not phoenix firing anywhere," retorted Harry. "I've got better things to do than be exhausted all day. Besides, I don't have a clue how to take extra people with me."

"Spoil sport," Bellatrix grumbled.

"I just agreed to let you leave Hogwarts and move in with me, and you're calling me a spoil sport?"

"Letting me come with you was the logical thing to do," Bellatrix said airily. "It benefits you just as much as it benefits me."

"Don't even start that," Harry said.

"All right," said Bellatrix. "I can leave Hogwarts on my own. Where shall I meet you?"

"The Three Broomsticks," Harry decided. "I'll meet you there for lunch at two."

"Lunch at two?" Bellatrix asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I going back to bed," Harry announced. "See you then." His image then disappeared.

~!~!~!~!~!

Lunch at the Three Broomsticks proved somewhat successful—at least for Harry. Bellatrix had eaten lunch at the proper time up at the castle. Consequently, she satisfied herself only with a butterbeer as Harry ate. Eventually, he double-apparated Bellatrix and her luggage to the hotel he'd checked into just before meeting her. They were soon standing in front of the door to their room.

"This is your key," Harry said, retrieving a hotel room key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing into the room. "There you are. The bed closest to the window is mine." He then handed her the key.

"Aren't you going to go in?" Bellatrix asked, noticing that Harry was ostensibly remaining in the hall.

"I've got errands," Harry replied. "I'll probably be back rather late, actually. You got anything you're planning to do?"

Bellatrix pursed her lips and set her face into a somewhat annoyed expression. "Well, normally I'd prefer to accompany you on your errands, seeing that we're partners, but as it is, I think I should probably go find us a more permanent place to live."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Harry objected. "I've been moving around because Tom has apparently put the word out about me."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I know of some wards that we can use to keep him and his merry band of minions away from us. As long as we have ownership of the property, it will be relatively easy to set up the wards."

"That sounds pretty good," Harry said. He didn't enjoy moving around too much. Bellatrix's experience with the darker arts might also prove useful. She would know what they needed to defend against.

"Great," said Bellatrix. "I'll go shopping for a place to live. In order for me to do the wards, though, I'm going to need some books and possibly heirlooms from the Black family vault. You can either come with me, or you can write out a note authorizing me to visit the vault and withdraw items."

"I'll write the note," Harry said, not particularly wanting to pay another visit to the bank. He stepped into the room, found a sheet of complimentary hotel stationery at the desk, and wrote out a short note for Bellatrix before handing it to her.

"On second thought, could you specify multiple visits?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry sighed, but quickly amended the note to the bank. "Happy?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said, beaming him a smile.

"Great. I'll see you later. You'll probably be asleep by the time I get back here," Harry said. He then left the room. Automatically, the hotel room door swung shut behind him leaving Bellatrix alone.

Humming somewhat happily, Bellatrix enlarged her trunk and quickly rifled through it. Finding an outfit that seemed somewhat Muggle, she changed into it before departing for Gringotts, thoroughly enjoying her newfound freedom. She was practically independent now. There were no more school rules and no more parent or guardian figures. Turning seventeen had been one thing, but now she truly felt "of age."

She soon arrived in the Gringotts lobby. Rather than immediately visit the Black family vault, however, she made her way to a random goblin sitting at a desk. "Hello," said Bellatrix. "I need to speak to a contract goblin." A brief staring contest ensued, but Bellatrix won by tacking another phrase onto her request. "If you would be so kind."

Severely annoyed at being interrupted in such an informal matter, the goblin glared balefully at Bellatrix before leading her to a rather small office at the end of a dark hallway. The desk goblin gestured for her to enter the office before abandoning her.

The contract goblin in the cramped office was a young male. Though he clearly desired to maintain the professional, hostile aloofness that more senior goblins regularly did, he ultimately rewarded Bellatrix with his kindest smile before offering her the seat in front of his desk. The seat was designed for other goblins and thus left Bellatrix uncomfortable and practically staring at the goblin from between her knees.

"What is it that you require, Miss?" the goblin asked.

"I'm looking to buy a piece of Muggle real estate," Bellatrix announced. "I'll need a proper contract that is recognized by the Ministry and the Muggle authorities. If you could draw something up, and I'll fill in the blanks once I've decided on the property."

"You know the proper way to register the purchase and title deeds once the transaction is complete?" the goblin inquired.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, silently thanking fate that her father had regularly purchased and sold real estate. It was irregular for a customer to conduct real estate business quite so independent of Gringotts, but sometimes it was useful—at least her father had occasionally benefitted from such a situation, though the goblins were never fond of seeing potential work taken out of their hands in such a way. "I'd also appreciate if you could draw up sub-lease contracts. There's a possibility I might rent out part of the property to Muggles."

The goblin raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

"I would of course appreciate it if the bank managed the leasing side of things," Bellatrix rushed to inform the goblin. "It's just that I might need to get things signed more quickly than the bank could move."

"Very well," the goblin agreed, sounding placated. "Is there anything else?"

"Er . . . yes," Bellatrix said, hesitating slightly. Her next request was highly irregular, but she reckoned that it might later come in handy and save a great deal of hassle—at least once she brought Harry around to her way of thinking. "I'd like you to draw up a marriage contract."

"Really?" the goblin said, almost disbelievingly.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, blushing slightly in response to the goblin's surprised demeanor. She rushed on and explained the details to the goblin. "The bride in question is a scion of House Black."

The goblin held up his hand to stop her. "Let me write this down," he said as he searched out a blank parchment and his quill. "All right, go ahead."

"Like I said, the bride is a member of House Black," Bellatrix repeated.

"Okay."

"The groom's heritage is irrelevant," Bellatrix continued. "Upon the execution of the marriage, he will take the surname Black."

"Wait, so the groom takes the bride's name instead of the other way around?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix.

"What is the groom's name, then?" the goblin asked.

"Leave it blank," Bellatrix instructed. "I'll fill that in myself." She then went on to detail the rest of the requirements for the contract, specifying that it would be signed by the Head of House Black. This made the goblin happy, for the presence of Lord Black's signature on the document, in addition to the signatures of the bride and groom, would go far toward simplifying the provisions Bellatrix had requested.

"How soon do you need copies of your contracts?" the goblin asked once she was finished.

"As soon as possible," Bellatrix requested. "Perhaps before I leave the bank today?"

The goblin sighed deeply. "Very well. Would you prefer to wait here or in the lobby?"

"The lobby," Bellatrix said. "I'll meet you there when you are finished."

With that, she made arrangements to pay the goblin for his services and then exited the cramped office and found another goblin willing to show her down to the Black vault. In the vault, she deposited the basilisk ingredients, deciding that selling them too soon would inflate supply and decrease demand. In fact, she was concerned that Harry's most recent sale of the first batch might still be affecting the market. She then picked out a number of Black heirloom books before returning to the lobby.

She waited there for a time until the contract goblin appeared with her contracts in hand. She briefly inspected each contract and was satisfied. "Thank you," she said peremptorily. "Now, I have one last question."

"Yes, Miss?"

"Once the required signatures are on the marriage document, the marriage is in force, correct?"

"Well, yes, or at least as soon as you return a duplicate copy to Gringotts for us to register with the proper Ministry authorities," the goblin said.

"Perfect," Bellatrix declared, pocketing the contracts.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

At the hour dinner was scheduled to end, Alastor Moody was waiting for Professor Dumbledore at the entrance to the headmaster's office. As the auror had supposed, Dumbledore did arrive at his office once completing his meal.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling, "you've finally found the time to come and visit me."

"Things have been busy at the Ministry," Moody said gruffly, following the headmaster as the guarding gargoyle leapt aside and allowed entrance into the office. The pair ascended the stairs and the two men were soon seated within the confines of the circular office.

"What news from the Ministry?" Albus inquired, helping himself to a lemon drop and motioning for Moody to do likewise should he feel the urge.

"Prewitt is in for sure," Moody declared. "All that needs doing is to make it official."

"And who will succeed Prewitt as Director?" Dumbledore inquired.

Moody leaned back into his chair and sighed. "I'm getting the vibe that it will be Bartemius Crouch."

"Crouch," Dumbledore repeated with a frown. "Not quite the most desirable candidate."

"Prewitt is probably aiming for a zealot rather than an on-the-ground fighter," Moody observed. "As long as Prewitt looks over Crouch's shoulder on a regular basis, I think he will prove a strong influence in the coming difficulties."

Dumbledore sat thoughtfully, absorbing Moody's comments and contemplating the possibility of a Director Crouch. Finally he shook his head a little bit as if to reorient himself and refocused on Moody. "Have you any other news?"

Moody's lips curved into a smile that seemed unintentionally grim. "I cornered Ashworth the other night. Mostly it was for official Ministry business—his statement about the death of Minister Black. Off the record, though, I got him to give me a little extra information. He has revealed to me the name of our dark lord."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore said, smiling. "What is it?"

Moody produced a small slip of parchment and slid it across the table. "Ashworth is nervous about actually saying the name aloud. Apparently the Blacks feel that this fellow can hear his name being used."

"Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said out loud, reading the parchment.

"I guess your opinion differs," Moody observed.

Professor Dumbledore shrugged. "The Blacks may be correct, but one must weigh the consequences, I think."

Moody shrugged. "So should I feel nervous saying it or not?"

"Well," Dumbledore said, "maybe if you're trying to sneak up on him, you should avoid saying it." His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you should avoid saying anything at all if you're trying to be sneaky." His face turned more serious as he set the small slip of parchment on the desk. "I want you to get as much information from Ashworth as you can—even if it means asking him to stick his neck out to gather intelligence. Don't unnecessarily endanger his life, but keep in mind we've got to draw on any advantage he can give us."

"Right," said Moody as he nodded in agreement. "I've already made arrangements. He's promised to try and dig some more information up on this creep's past."

"Good," said Dumbledore, staring thoughtfully at the wall beyond Moody. "It may interest you to know, Alastor, that Bellatrix Black left Hogwarts today."

"Did she now?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She walked out while the rest of the school was having lunch."

"She isn't the first student you've had leave this term, is it?" Moody said.

Dumbledore nodded. "A number of Slytherin's left. I presume they joined Lord Voldemort's ranks. Now, Bellatrix Black, a Slytherin at heart, has left to join Harry Ashworth's ranks. The parallel is interesting, to say the least."

"How are you so sure she joined Ashworth?" Moody asked.

"I spoke with her younger sister Narcissa. She was extremely reticent, but she implied that my contacting Bellatrix's mother about the situation would be useless. Apparently, there's been a falling out. That, and other factors I am aware of, leads me to believe that Bellatrix is with Mr. Ashworth."

Moody nodded thoughtfully and scratched his chin. "So, what precisely are you trying to tell me?"

"When you sit down to chat with Harry Ashworth, remember that Miss Black's wand will likely be pointed at your back."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Thorpe, now Harry's good drinking buddy, laughed uproariously and slapped Harry on the back before tipping up a mug of ale and downing it. Likewise, Harry lifted his mug and pretended to drink its contents, having previously used his wand to surreptitiously vanish the liquid. Nearly simultaneously, the two slammed their mugs down on a table.

Slumping in his chair, Thorpe tried to get comfortable. Harry also shifted in his chair and then leaned back against the wall. Trying not to be obvious, he scanned the pub, looking for anyone new, or someone he had already observed, acting suspicious. There was no one. This annoyed Harry. If the Death Eaters had once recruited from this pub for help to find Harry Ashworth, surely they would be continuing the practice, especially seeing as they had completely failed to find Harry Ashworth thus far. Perhaps he needed to frequent a wider circle of pubs.

"Well, D, the wife is going to be wanting me home," Thorpe told Harry. He looked like he was going to cry at the thought.

"That bad, eh?" Harry said, smiling slightly at how Thorpe refused to call him Big D. Harry simply wasn't big enough to pass as the true "Big D."

"Ah, it's nothing," Thorpe said, patting Harry's shoulder as if Harry was the bereaved. "Everything will be all right."

"I'm sure it will be," Harry said, putting on a look of courageousness. He made a show of checking the time and glancing at the barkeep who was trying to be obvious about cleaning the bar and beverage glasses. "I'd better get home myself."

Thorpe nodded firmly. "All right, D. I'm going to stick around for one last round. Be careful apparating. Don't want to splinch yourself."

"Of course," Harry said, wondering how it was that Thorpe was going to get home without splinching himself. Perhaps he would use a portkey or the floo. Harry stood, settled his bill with the barkeep, and then exited the pub.

Though it was quite late at night, Knockturn Alley was still awake. Rather than bustling however, the crowds, as it were, oozed about, sticking to shadows and alleyways. Harry covertly checked to make sure he was ready to draw his wand at a moment's notice before joining with the shadows and slowly making his way to a point in Diagon Alley where he could quietly apparate away. Just in case he was followed, he made several stops, one at Moody's lamppost, before arriving in the vicinity of his most recent hotel.

A quick wave of his wand removed his "Big D" disguise, and a few moments later he was walking through the halls of the hotel, fumbling in his pocket for his room key. Keeping in mind that Bellatrix was likely asleep by now, Harry inserted the key into the door quietly with the intent to avoid waking her up.

However, upon entering the room, he discovered that the lights were on and the television was blaring loudly. Closing the door behind him, Harry surveyed the room. File folders and papers were neatly organized over the top of nearly every flat surface, the floor included. Bellatrix, wearing pajama shorts and a camisole top, was perched cross-legged on Harry's bed, holding a bag a potato crisps.

Upon seeing Harry enter the room, she broke her concentration on the television and grinned at him. "I thought you'd be later than this."

Not sure what to say, Harry glanced around the hotel room again, this time taking a look into the bathroom. The counter was covered with her cosmetic and hygiene materials. She well and truly had taken over the room. He looked back to where she was sitting on his bed. "That's my bed," he said dumbly, glancing to the other bed and seeing that it was covered with documents and folders.

Bellatrix shrugged. "There's still plenty of room for you." She smiled at him invitingly.

Harry drew his wand and used it to remove the junk from the other bed, piling it crossways over the other folders on the floor and desk. "This one will be okay," he said before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

As soon as the door was closed, he leaned back on it and closed his eyes, thinking of her violet eyes, long black hair, and beautiful legs, not to mention her curves. She was very appealing, and Harry was very tempted. How easy it would be to start up with her. The situation practically demanded it now that they were living together. However, if things went bad, ending the relationship would not be pretty. Her young age also made Harry nervous, in addition to the fact that she was Bellatrix. Though she wasn't the insane witch who had killed Sirius and whom he had attempted to hit with the Crucio curse, it was hard to disassociate her face from the situations and feelings.

Silently, Harry vowed that he wouldn't cross the line with her until he was absolutely sure that it was the right thing to do and that he was willing to commit to that path. With that, he did his business and changed into his pajamas before returning to the room proper. When he did, he found that Bellatrix had switched off the telly and was waiting for him just outside the door.

"I scouted out a number of properties we could buy and have been sorting through them," she announced, explaining all of the paperwork that had been lying around the room. "I was thinking we could go together and pick something out tomorrow. That sound good?"

"Yeah," said Harry, beginning to feel rather sleepy.

Bellatrix seemed pleased, but she wasn't finished. "What were you out doing?"

Briefly, Harry explained his trip to the pub and his plan to track down the specific Death Eater or Death Eaters looking for him.

"I hope that isn't your main priority," Bellatrix commented. "Not that it is a bad idea. It just isn't exactly something that addresses Tom directly."

"It isn't," Harry assured her. "I've got plans for Tom."

"All right," Bellatrix said, stepping past him into the bathroom and closing the door.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry stubbornly kept his eyes closed, despite the fact that it took Bellatrix nearly ten minutes to figure out how to shut off the Muggle alarm clock—the same clock she had apparently had no trouble setting to go off at six in the morning. He did not intend to get out of bed until nine. It was a noble, albeit difficult goal. She left the bathroom door open so that he could hear her hum various tunes in the shower, and then once she had dressed for the day, puttered around the apartment sorting through her real estate papers.

At eight, it became impossible for Harry to continue drowsing. Bellatrix sat cross-legged on the half of Harry's bed in which he was not sleeping. Holding her bag of potato crisps, she slowly munched on one crisp after another. Though Harry was keeping his eyes closed, he could feel her staring at him. He gave up and opened his eyes. As he had guessed, she was staring directly at him.

"Good morning!" she said brightly.

"Morning," Harry replied, doing his best to hide his irritation.

It didn't take him very long to shower and get dressed. They stopped at a small restaurant for some breakfast before Bellatrix started them on their journey to find a more permanent home. The speed and efficiency with which Bellatrix whisked the two of them to different sites throughout Britain was quite impressive.

Upon arriving at each potential location, Bellatrix would walk slowly around the property, weighing its merits in terms of how easily she could ward the place. Many of the locations were dismissed as being unacceptable on this factor alone. However, if the location did pass this initial test, they found a way to take a tour of the inside. Sometimes this involved contacting the agent listed for the property. More often, they were fortunate enough to find the seller at home and willing to show them around. Occasionally, they had to result to a simple unlocking spell.

Eventually, Harry noticed that each location they visited shared some basic characteristics. Specifically, he had realized that each of Bellatrix's proposed purchases did not initially resemble what people would identify as being a residence. They were searching through properties that were primarily commercial or industrial.

"Why haven't we looked at a normal house?" he asked. "Or even a basic flat in a high-rise?"

"The last thing I need is some nosy Muggle saying to herself that her good friends the Joneses used to live in the residence between the Johnsons and Smiths," Bellatrix said as she opened a closet and looked around. She shut the door and walked down the hall of the property they were examining. "The first step to effectively warding a property is finding one that hasn't been noticed by anybody in a while."

"I see," Harry said. "Well, I don't like this one. It smells funny."

"Yeah, I had pretty much already come to that conclusion," Bellatrix replied. She looked out the window and waved down to where the property's slightly crippled real estate agent was waiting for them. "I suppose you'll want to properly say goodbye to him, won't you?"

"He was nice enough to let us in," Harry retorted, making his way to the exit.

They stopped briefly for lunch in Leeds. The property there turned out to be a dud, so they moved on to Manchester. In a street rather close to the town center, they found a three-story building standing on a corner. It was older and made from brick. The ground floor was split into three storefronts, two of which were currently vacant. The third was a specialty book shop. Above the shops were two floors. Though only three stories, the building was quite tall because the first and second floors were one and a half times bigger than the average story. The third floor on the top was the normal height for a story.

Harry yawned while Bellatrix busied herself with calculating whether she could put wards over the place. Soon, she had determined that it was indeed possible to ward the place to her liking. Excitedly, she suggested that they find the local agency that had listed the property.

"I'm sensing that you like this one better than anything we've seen thus far," Harry said.

"It's perfect," Bellatrix told him. "We'll be able to collect rent from the tenants in the shops on the ground floor. Then, when we find tenants to fill up the two vacant shops, we can leave them with the impression that the third tenant has access to the upper floors and vice-versa."

"If the inside is worth anything," Harry said, "I guess we can go for it."

The inside did prove to be very nice. The second floor was spacious, and nearly every room boasted a large window. The third floor was quite cluttered and not nearly as attractive despite its very open space that had no walls. It had apparently always been used as storage for the former residents. Harry observed that ironically, it seemed very much like a basement rather than the top floor of a building.

Bellatrix, however, seemed to like the third floor very much. "I could keep all of my clutter up here," she declared to Harry. "It could be my workshop for different projects."

Harry agreed that this would be a very good use for the third floor. There was more than enough space on the second floor for them both to live comfortably, and he had already observed that Bellatrix had a tendency to spread out her things when working on something.

Consequently, they soon found themselves signing papers at the real estate agent's office. The agent was surprised, but agreeable when Bellatrix produced her own contract from a pocket. Harry and Bellatrix signed as co-owners of the property, though the majority of the money came from Harry's fortune. Bellatrix quietly reassured Harry that she'd pay for furnishings. Harry shrugged it off and told her that he'd reimburse her for the furniture as well and not to worry about it. This seemed to make her very happy.

~!~!~!~!

Lightning flashed across the dark sky, and in the distance, thunder sounded. Through the burned-out ruins of Malfoy Manor, Harry looked up to the sky and winced. Rain was bound to follow that, though that was not what bothered Harry. It was that the sky had darkened significantly earlier than he had anticipated. He did not want to be caught looting the Malfoy family safe by any Death Eaters at night.

The chance of meeting Death Eaters had been only a minor concern when he arrived at the Malfoy property, but discovering the presence of recently-erected dark wards had signaled to Harry that the property had not been neglected since the death of Romulus Malfoy. Fortunately, one could not ward the Malfoy property against the Malfoy family ring that Harry now possessed. However, that did not make Harry immune from other traps or obstacles—not that he had yet to discover any, but he had been wary.

Rain began to sprinkle down on Harry, and he sighed. Briefly, he considered casting a charm over the area to shield him, but decided against it after looking down into the Malfoy vault and wondering if any of the dark artifacts could be triggered. There were still enough dark artifacts to fill two more of the special cases Bellatrix had sent along with instructions for handling unknown dark artifacts and complaints about Harry not bringing her along.

Harry hopped down into the vault and ran his eyes over the remaining dark artifacts. She wouldn't be very happy about this rain, he told himself. Besides, she seemed happier arranging the new furniture across the apartment. Still, he scolded himself, he needed to utilize her or she'd become frustrated. Then, he'd risk losing her help.

Spotting a tome that was oozing blood, Harry reached out with a dragonhide-gauntleted hand and picked it up. He then threw it over the edge of the vault opening. He heard it land with a thud near one of the special cases. A gold trinket resembling something that might be found in Professor Dumbledore's office was gently set on the edge. Below some books and wooden boxes, Harry found a what appeared to be a pensieve bowl, though the substance floating in it certainly did not resemble anything Harry had ever seen. Gingerly, Harry set it on opening's edge, climbed out of the vault, and wasted no time packing the artifacts into another case before shrinking it and placing it in his pocket with the other cases he already had packed. That left one more to go. It looked like the remaining artifacts would fit in it.

Realizing that the artifacts he had just packed had been liberally rained upon, Harry opted to take the remaining case into the vault with him and pack it. Now that the vault was mostly empty, it was a viable option.

Just as he was halfway through with packing the final case, Harry heard the tell-tale pop of apparition. Silently cursing, he tried his best to calculate the location from where the popping noise had come. Guessing based on direction, Harry reckoned it was probably what had been the front hall of the manor—one of the places a normal visitor to the manor might have apparated before it had been destroyed.

Thankfully, the sky had only barely darkened, thus Harry had not had time to make himself any light. Nimbly, he finished packing the last case, shrunk it, and placed it in his pocket all while he strained his ears, listening for any movement.

"Ashworth!" a voice exclaimed.

Harry shifted his gaze just in time to see Rodolphus Lestrange hurl a cutting hex at him from above. Fortunately, the movement of his head and consequently his torso saved Harry from serious injury, though the hex did graze his size. A warm trickle told Harry that he was bleeding.

Harry deftly cast a stunner that was followed up with a number of minor jinxes. Rodolphus dodged these easily, but that had been what Harry had expected. Just when Rodolphus seemed most distracted, Harry nailed him with a severe dizziness charm. While the up-and-coming Death Eater reeled, Harry scrambled out of the Malfoy floor vault.

Though obviously still dizzy, Rodolphus managed to get off a number of stunners that Harry easily dodged before peppering Rodolphus with more minor spells. He then finished the barrage up with an "Expelliarmus!" This left Harry holding Rodolphus's wand.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry said, holding his wand steady on Lestrange.

"Where is she?" Rodolphus demanded, changing the topic.

"Where is who?" Harry replied, knowing full well the answer.

"Where did you take Bellatrix?"

Harry smiled and shrugged. "You should know by now that nobody takes Bellatrix anywhere."

"You know what I meant!" Rodolphus snarled as he glared at Harry's wand. "You treacherous blood traitor!"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "That was redundant."

Snarling, Rodolphus jerked his wand arm and suddenly, he had another wand in his hand—a spare, apparently. Reflexively, Harry cast a banishing spell which sent Lestrange flying through the air and into a pile of rubble. Not wanting to risk further confrontation and realizing that Malfoy Manor had already been destroyed once, Harry unleashed fiendfyre in the general direction he had banished Rodolphus. He then fled.

Within moments, he had escaped beyond the dark wards that the Death Eaters had apparently erected. Feeling that he was now in the clear to apparate, Harry turned back to glance at the light and shadows caused by his fiendfyre. He popped away and found himself in London. A few more pops around the country and he was within walking distance of his and Bellatrix's new property in Manchester.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Luckily for Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and all other Death Eaters vaguely associated with them, Voldemort was very mellow and pensive when Rodolphus was required to report on the fact that the Malfoy floor safe had been looted by Harry Ashworth. Or rather, Voldemort was doing his best to maintain an outward appearance of being calm. The truth was that his face and hands were still in pain from the burns Romulus Malfoy had inflicted. Consequently, showing emotion was still a costly exercise. Voldemort's new strategy for coping with the pain in the presence of his followers was to stand in the shadows near a darkened window. That way, he could pace around, give a sense of strength, and still hide his face.

"And so, I drew my spare wand on him. His reaction was fiendfyre," Rodolphus said. He then concluded his tale with an explanation of how he had struggled to extinguish the fiendfyre and then with an account of how the safe had been opened and empty.

"Fiendfyre," Voldemort repeated quietly. "Mr. Ashworth does seem to have an affinity for fire, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Rodolphus agreed, even though he didn't have a clue what would prompt Voldemort to say that.

"I wasn't talking to you," Voldemort said shortly.

Rodolphus winced, but remained silent.

"I want the efforts to locate and apprehend Ashworth doubled," Voldemort declared. "It is clear to me that he has stolen the Malfoy gold and many of the Malfoy treasures. Other facts suggest that he has meddled with the affairs of the Black family—or intends to, anyway. If he is not neutralized soon, he will become a significant liability to our cause.

25. A Pyrrhic Victory, of Sorts

A/N: Good news: I found the will to write. Good news: It's a slightly longer chapter than usual. Good news: This chapter officially puts DE at the plot's halfway point. Bad news: It's probably the nastiest cliffhanger I've ever written. Even Worse News: I start law school next week. My leisure time will be greatly reduced. News that might make you feel better: I've started a Yahoo group for Delenda Est. As I get ready to start posting part 2, I'll probably talk about some plot stuff and might post some scenes that wouldn't normally make it into the story. We'll have to see, though. The link is in my profile. Thank you for all your reviews. :)

Chapter 24

By

Lord Silvere

Harry blinked as he entered the lodgings he and Bellatrix now shared. Compared to the stormy, overcast sky outside, the inside of the apartment was very bright. Over the days since Harry and Bellatrix had bought the place, Bellatrix had busied herself with furnishing it. Part of that furnishing included a lot of stand lamps.

For the first time, Harry realized that despite Bellatrix having made her furnishing purchases at magical stores with only one exception, the main living room area could pass as a Muggle residence with few problems. The exception was a television set. Apparently she had enjoyed watching the telly while they had been cooped up in the hotel room.

Proceeding through the living area and passing the kitchen and dining area that sat across from each other behind the living room, Harry made his way into center hallway. His bedroom was on the left and overlooked the street outside. He stripped off his shirt and winced as a jolt of pain reminded him of the cutting hex with which Lestrange had hit him.

He moved back into the hallway and down to the apartment's only bathroom. Luckily, Bellatrix wasn't holed up in it as she often seemed to be. He was examining his still-bleeding wound in the mirror when footsteps heralded Bellatrix's descent from the upper floor of their residence. Apparently, she had heard his arrival and was coming down to see how he had fared.

She appeared at the bathroom door, which Harry had left open, and arched her eyebrow at the wound. "Looks like you could have used some skilled assistance during your little outing."

Harry shrugged as he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet for something to clean and patch it up. "I ran into Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Did you kill him?"

"It's possible, I suppose," Harry said. "I banished him and then sent a wave of fiendfyre after him."

"The fiendfyre is admirable, Harry, but a killing curse would have been more efficient and guaranteed."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, getting ready to clean the wound.

Bellatrix imitated Harry's shrug as Harry cleaned the cut from Rodolphus. The cleaning caused the wound to reopen and begin trickling blood again.

"It's a war, Harry. You're going to have to get used to killing people." Her eyes fell on the blood oozing out of the wound. "Let's not patch that up quite yet," she said. "I was going to need a blood sample from you anyway. We may as well collect that now." She disappeared back up to the upper floor, leaving Harry standing in front of the mirror, prepared to patch up the wound with a few band aids.

In a moment, she had returned with a small vial. "Fill it up," she directed.

"What are you going to do with my blood?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I'm setting the wards around the place," Bellatrix explained to him. "Short of a Fidelius charm, blood wards are the best protection. Unless you have someone you trust to be secret keeper that doesn't live here, we're doing blood wards."

Grudgingly, Harry irritated the cut from Lestrange until it was bleeding more freely. He then filled up the vial for Bellatrix before going back to his original goal of patching up the wound. "I'll want to watch what you do with that blood," Harry called after her as he worked as quickly as his could.

"Yeah, whatever," Bellatrix said loudly from the stairs so that he could hear her.

It took Harry only a few moments before his wound was under control. He then dashed to his bedroom, put on his shirt, and then made his way up the stairs to Bellatrix's loft. It had not taken her very long to transform the place. She had several work tables set up at various places and a number of glass cabinets against the walls. Despite this, though, the room still felt relatively open and empty.

She was in the process of filling another vial with her own blood as Harry approached the work table beside which she was standing. "That you're also using your own blood is reassuring," Harry observed as he removed from his pocket the cases of artifacts he had taken from Malfoy Manor. He enlarged them and stacked them on the floor next to another work table.

Bellatrix made no immediate reply as she patched up the cut on her arm. She then took the vials of their blood and mixed them in a larger vial before emptying the blood onto four square-shaped tiles of stone that were carved liberally with runes. Harry leaned over and examined the stone tiles as the blood mixture seeped into them.

"That should do it," Bellatrix announced. "Unless, of course . . ."

"Unless what?" Harry asked.

"You aren't actually biologically descended from a member of the Black family, are you?" Bellatrix asked.

"No," said Harry. "I'm pretty sure I'm not—at least, I don't think so."

"Well, as long as it isn't a parent, grandparent, or great-grandparent," Bellatrix said, "I think we'll be okay."

"Okay," I think we're good then."

"And I'm not descended from any of your people, right?" Bellatrix said.

"Pretty sure," Harry offered.

"Good," Bellatrix said, smiling faintly. "The wards should work then. In order to pass the wards, the person must be both a Black and, uh, an 'Ashworth' by blood, or have permission from the both of us specifically. Or a mixture. For instance, if you were dumb enough to invite one of my family members, they could pass. Otherwise, they cannot."

"What if we have a spat? Can one of us kick the other out?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix smirked. "As much as I would have enjoyed doing that to you, I didn't want to be caught on the other end. Thus, we're both keyed in whether we're on good terms with each other or not."

"Sounds fine," said Harry. "How much can the wards take from attackers?"

"Quite a bit," said Bellatrix, gathering up the tiles. "But given enough pressure over a certain amount of time, they'll break. The best defense is to make sure the enemy never figures out where to start applying the pressure. In other words, make sure no one follows you home. I've incorporated some other camouflage measures and defenses, but they're not invincible."

"Of course," replied Harry. He eyed her hands where she was holding the ward stones. "Do you need help setting them up?"

"No," Bellatrix said, declining the offer. "It'll only take me a couple of minutes. After I'm done, though, there are a couple of things I'd like to speak with you about."

"All right," Harry agreed as she left the room. He followed her down the stairs and to the living room. She exited through the front door, leaving Harry alone.

Slightly concerned for her safety, Harry proceeded to one of the windows, pushed aside the curtain and peered out into the night. The light in the room made it difficult to see out into the darkness, but he could faintly make Bellatrix out as she proceeded to one of the corners of the property and levitated one of the stones into the air. He wondered why she was putting it in the air, but then remembered that she was renting out the first floor to ambitious entrepreneurs. It wouldn't do to ward against the renters.

Bellatrix disappeared around the back of the building after cloaking the first ward stone with an invisibility spell. After about five minutes, she appeared at the fourth corner, once again in Harry's sight. She set the final stone, and Harry retreated to an armchair. A moment passed and she had returned to the apartment.

"Easier than I expected," Bellatrix commented to Harry. "Stay there, and I'll be right back." She disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. In no time, she had returned, holding a roll of parchment. She sat down in the matching armchair directly across from Harry. "Since I'm pretty sure I know how this particular conversation will go," Bellatrix announced, "we may as well get it out of the way first."

"Oh?" said Harry, eyeing the parchment warily.

Bellatrix handed the rolled up parchment to Harry. "As you will see, this is our marriage contract." She held up her hand to forestall Harry's reaction. "I've taken the liberty to sign it so that when you finally have your moment of weakness, all that we need is your two signatures—one because you're the groom and one because you're Lord Black."

Harry frowned as he unrolled the parchment and examined the contract. As Bellatrix had stated, her signature was scrawled on one of the bottom lines in bold, purple ink. Two thick, black x's marked the lines where Harry's signature was needed.

"Any chance that this is a moment of weakness?" Bellatrix asked, sounding vaguely hopeful.

Harry looked at her over the top of the parchment, but did not respond. Rather, he turned to examining the provisions of the contract. It took him a few minutes to read. When he was finished, he rolled it up and set it aside. "You're asking for quite a lot."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What specifically bothers you?" Bellatrix queried.

"Well, for starters I'm not so sure I want to take the surname Black," Harry observed, thinking of his own Potter surname.

"It's better than Ashworth," Bellatrix said. "It's not like you can resume your normal name, whatever it is, and keep your time travel secret."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, and then there's this business about you being equal to me in authority with matters of Black family business."

"Do you want to manage my miserable family?"

"Not really."

"Then you should be grateful that I'm willing to help shoulder the responsibility," Bellatrix said.

"And then you've taken the liberty to practically write out my last will and testament," Harry grumbled.

"If you outlive me, you can do whatever you want with our possessions," Bellatrix said. "However, I refuse to be left widowed and penniless."

"As if I'd do that to you," Harry said.

"Well, good. My having complete claim on everything you own after your death shouldn't bother you, then." Bellatrix said. "There are provisions that protect you. Keeping each other's secrets, not harming each other, and not coercing each other. There's even the clause that says that if I initiate a divorce proceeding, I don't get anything. Harry, it only makes sense now that we're living together. We're practically already married."

"We sleep in separate bedrooms," Harry pointed out. "We're roommates at best."

"You'll give in eventually, Harry," Bellatrix told him. "Your moment of weakness will come."

"Yeah," said Harry in a slightly sarcastic tone, "one day I'll wake up and suddenly decide I can't live another day without marrying you."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I'm not dumb enough to expect that. However, your moment of weakness will come when you suddenly decide you want some. You won't get any until you've signed that contract."

"Want some what?" Harry asked.

"You know," Bellatrix said vaguely. She gave him a seductive look and reached up to partially unbutton her blouse.

Harry caught on. "I see. Well, it's not like I've been chasing you anyway."

"You will be," Bellatrix promised. "By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be begging for the opportunity to sign the contract and get on with our marriage."

"Oh, please," Harry snorted, though deep down he felt a slight twinge of desire, though it was quickly squashed by pure stubbornness. "Let's move on. What else did you want to talk about?"

Bellatrix sighed, but because she had been expecting the outcome anyway, had no trouble jumping to the next topic she wanted to bring up. "I want to know every detail about your interactions with the Chamber of Secrets," Bellatrix told Harry. "I think the diary may be a very important part of understanding the dark lord."

"Well, of course," said Harry. "It was Tom's diary."

"It was more than a diary, Harry. It was a very complex magical artifact that I happen to think is important. I need to know more about it so that I can try to fit it in with what I know about the dark arts. If we're lucky, maybe we can find some information in some of the rarer books we now have in our possession."

"Very well," Harry sighed. "It all began on the night I attended a death day party."

~!~!~!~!~!

The next morning, Harry switched off the shower water, pushed open the shower curtain, and promptly discovered that Bellatrix had invaded the bathroom while he had been otherwise occupied. Wearing a skimpy set of pajamas, she was leaning over the sink brushing her teeth. As soon as she saw Harry staring at her, she smiled. "Good morning, Harry!"

Harry shot her a dirty look as he snatched his towel and retreated into his bedroom to dry himself and get dressed for the day. If she was going to play this way, he was sure he could withstand it. Grumbling to himself about the issue, Harry finished dressing and headed to the kitchen where he fried up breakfast for the two of them.

He had just seated himself in the dining area of the apartment when she appeared to claim her portion of the meal.

"Were you finished with that?" Bellatrix asked, putting her hand on the edition of the Daily Prophet he had been glancing at between bites of egg, bacon, and potatoes.

Harry looked up and was shocked to see that she was still in a general state of undress. He narrowed his eyes. "Would you like to put some more clothes on, Bellatrix?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, taking the newspaper and sitting down on the other side of the table.

Harry scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and stalked out of the kitchen. Quickly, he checked his appearance in the mirror before gathering a few things. He then proceeded to the front door.

"Where are you going?" Bellatrix called, still eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.

"Out," Harry announced. "See you later."

The closing of the door cut off her reply, undoubtedly a demand to accompany him. That'll show her, Harry smirked. He descended the stairs and exited onto the street. From there, he walked a ways and dodged into an alley from where he apparated to London.

The next several hours were spent wandering around to various government buildings and speaking with Muggle bureaucrats. Their inability to find information or point the way to it was infuriating. Though Harry had never really used a computer in his life, he was beginning to wish that the government of the 1970s had more computers and more digital records.

Eventually, he came across a young lady standing behind a counter who seemed like she might know how Harry could find the information he was seeking. The problem was that she didn't think that strange men lacking Muggle identification should be allowed to ask about the private details of orphans, even if the orphan in question was undoubtedly now an adult.

"Look," said Harry, "I just need to know to which orphanage this particular boy was sent."

"Why?" asked the woman, bringing her hands up to the counter surface and leaning toward Harry, a suspicious look in her eyes.

"It turns out that there is a third cousin on the father's side who passed away just recently. As far as my firm can determine, Mr. Riddle is the nearest living relative who stands to inherit."

"Oh, really? Some long lost uncle left him a fortune, eh? That's original," the woman said snidely, beginning to drum her fingers, ostensibly showing off her wedding ring.

"Actually, it's only about five hundred pounds," Harry said weakly.

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Polkiss, but we can't just give out that sort of information. It wouldn't be proper."

Harry gritted his teeth and drew his wand, quickly surveying his surroundings to make sure that no one else was watching their exchange. Muttering a spell, he jabbed it at her forehead as she stared at the stick cross-eyed.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that information is simply unavailable," the obnoxious desk clerk lady said dully. "Many records from that time period were lost or are now disorganized, assuming that the information you're seeking was ever recorded. The only option you have is to write to each orphanage in London and inquire whether they know anything of the person for which you are searching."

Bitterly, Harry restrained himself from slapping her hard across the face. If she didn't have access to the information, why had she put Harry through all of the rigmarole of identifying himself and explaining just why he had a legitimate need to know the information?

"Get me a list of and address for every orphanage that was open at the time period," Harry growled.

"Right away, sir," the woman said, retreating.

Harry felt slightly guilty for using the minor compulsion charm on her, but really, it was for a good cause. There would be no lasting effects. Eventually, Harry had the requested list and retreated. He proceeded to a stationery shop where he bought a sheet of paper. In a corner of the shop, he quickly scrawled a generic letter requesting information about Tom Marvolo Riddle.

When the shop owner wasn't looking, Harry rapidly used magic to duplicate the letter. Each copy of the letter was then imbued with a confundus charm of sorts. Whoever read the letter would be extremely cooperative. Harry then visited a post office where he bought the necessary postage and rented a box in which he could receive the replies. With that, the letters were soon on their way.

~!~!~!~!~!

That night, after scarfing down the remains of the Chinese takeout that Bellatrix had bought when it had become clear that Harry wouldn't be home in time to cook dinner, Harry returned to the familiar pub in Knockturn Alley.

Upon entering, Harry instantly sensed that the atmosphere was different than it had been during his previous visits. The barkeep was clearly doing his level best to avoid eye contact with anybody inside of his pub. Those who were typically rowdy were acting quite subdued. Frowning, Harry glanced around for his standby buddy, Thorpe.

Spotting Thorpe huddled in a booth, Harry made his way over and sat down, signaling the barkeep that he'd like ale. "What's the latest?" Harry, using the persona of Big D, muttered in a scratchy voice.

"Not much," Thorpe grunted. He nodded over to another corner of the pub where a pair of wizards clad in dark robes were speaking in low tones to one of the more disagreeable pub regulars. "Recruiting."

Harry arched his eyebrows to visually show a response to Thorpe's comments. He felt a small rush of adrenaline as he realized that this could be his change to come into contact with the Death Eaters who were recruiting people to look for him.

"What kind of recruiting?" Harry asked quietly.

Thorpe shrugged. "Couldn't say," he observed. "Time to go home, I think." With that, he stood and tossed a sickle on the table to cover his tab before leaving.

The barkeep brought over Harry's ale and then retreated back behind the bar into blissful ignorance.

Harry sat alone with a bemused expression on his face as he contemplated Thorpe's early departure from his night at the pub. He was just about to push the ale tankard away when a shadow fell over the table. Harry glanced up and found himself looking into the face of Rabastan Lestrange.

"Big D, is it?" Rabastan said.

"Yes," answered Harry coolly, sticking to the persona he had created for himself when visiting the pub. Furtively, he glanced over to where now only one wizard in a dark robe was speaking to the disagreeable pub patron.

Rabastan sat down, attempting to do so in a manner that suggested he was tougher than Harry. However, Harry could sense that the young Death Eater was extremely nervous. "Heard you did some time in Azkaban."

"I did," Harry said, reaching for the ale and taking a swig.

"Those dementors are pretty tough creatures," Rabastan said.

"Uh-huh," Harry said, eyeing Rabastan impatiently.

Harry's impatience goaded Rabastan into action. "My friends and I are looking for a wizard. If you have some time and an inclination to earn some gold, we'd like to have your help."

"I see," Harry said. "What happens when this wizard is found, pray tell?"

"Nothing. That's when the job is over for you. You find him and then summon us."

"Sounds easy enough."

"It is," Rabastan said, gaining a measure of confidence. He withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "This is the bloke."

Harry accepted the card and found that his picture was on it. The picture was a reproduction from the Daily Prophet article detailing his heroics in Diagon Alley from around the time he had arrived in the past.

"His name is Harry Ashworth. He's been avoiding public notice of late, but seeing that he is a wizard, it isn't exactly easy for him to avoid Diagon Alley. Keep an eye out. If you spot him, follow him, but do not confront him. You can tap your wand to the card and we'll come and give you gold for locating him. Simple enough?"

Harry nodded. "It is simple, but shouldn't you be trying beyond Diagon Alley? You might have more success."

Rabastan shrugged. "If you think you can trace him outside of Diagon Alley, be my guest. All I can say is that the gold goes to whoever finds him first."

"Right," Harry said, pocketing the card. "I'll keep a lookout wherever I go. He won't miss my notice."

~!~!~!~!~!

You didn't say that we were going to go meet some crazy auror," Bellatrix growled as she and Harry stood next to the tube station where Harry and Moody had originally met after Harry's discharge from Hogwarts. Bellatrix was dressed in an expensive Muggle dress and had done her hair up using the hair ornament that had brought Harry to the past.

"Does it matter?" Harry asked. "Dinner is dinner."

"I thought it was a date."

"It can be a date," Harry replied absently, looking in the crowds passing by them for any sign of the auror. He wanted to spot Moody before Moody spotted him, even though Moody clearly had the advantage.

"No it can't, not if there's some auror watching us the whole time!" Bellatrix retorted.

"Why do we need to have dates?" Harry asked. "If I want to marry you, all I have to do is sign the contract. It saves me the trouble of courtship. I don't know why I was so uncomfortable with the contract idea. It actually saves me quite a bit of effort."

"You know, I could slap you," Bellatrix said.

Alastor Moody's arrival pre-empted Harry's retort. "I see you brought Miss Black with you," the auror observed by way of greeting.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I know you probably had your heart set on that place we ate at last time, but Bella seems to feel that we should go somewhere more fancy." Conspiratorially, he whispered, "She thought it was a date."

Moody smiled crookedly, "Lead the way."

They were soon seated at a table in a somewhat posh London restaurant. Moody's attire was drawing the negative attention of many patrons while Bellatrix's attire was drawing the notice of every male. Oblivious, she was sulkily examining the menu as Moody did his best to pry information from Harry.

"What is it that prompted you to schedule our meeting?" Moody asked, sipping a glass of water. "I don't suppose you've discovered anything about the dark lord's past."

"I have, actually," Harry said. "His name was Tom Riddle."

"Tom Riddle, eh?" Moody said. "I don't recall Riddle being a magical family name. I thought we'd be dealing with a pureblood."

"Yes, one of the ironies associated with him," Harry smiled. "I think he's a half-blood, but I'll have to get back to you on that. I'll be researching his early life. In fact, I already have a couple of leads."

Harry didn't precisely. He was still waiting for responses from the orphanages. A couple had replied quickly and asserted they knew nothing of Tom Riddle, but the majority had not yet responded. "It might be helpful if you dug around in his more recent past," Harry said. "You might have access to records of what he's done once he arrived at Hogwarts, or left."

"Of course," Moody said, thinking that Dumbledore was sure to know everything there was to know of any student who passed through Hogwarts. The Ministry would also have useful records.

The server arrived and took their orders. Prompted by Harry's prior stipulation that he'd cover the bill, Moody ordered a generous portion for himself. Bellatrix, prompted by other reasons, did likewise. Harry followed suit, but felt deep down that just because one had money didn't mean that one had to spend it extravagantly.

The conversation then continued while they waited for the server to return with their meals. "There's another reason that I wanted to meet with you," Harry announced.

"Really?" Moody asked.

"How would you like the opportunity to capture some of these dark lord followers and take them in for questioning? I reckon you could learn quite a bit from them if you could find cause to administer a truth serum."

"Obviously, I'd love the opportunity," Moody said, "but they would have to be caught during or after their committing a crime. At this point, mere allegiance to this dark lord is not sufficient justification for arresting them."

"What?" Bellatrix exclaimed. "Killing my father isn't sufficient for their arrest?"

Moody grunted. "I'm not saying that the murder of your father isn't sufficient cause for arrest, but with the exception of the dark lord himself and Lucius Malfoy, we don't know the identity of anyone else who was present that night."

"Pussyfooters," Bellatrix muttered.

"What was it that you were thinking of, Mr. Ashworth?" Moody said, attempting to return focus to the conversation.

Harry withdrew the card given to him by Rabastan Lestrange from his pocket and showed it to Moody long enough for the auror to see his picture on it. He then pocketed the card. "The dark lord's followers are looking to capture me. They've been distributing these cards to some of the more seedy sorts in the magical world. If I'm spotted, they're to activate the card. The card will summon some of the dark lord's followers. They will then attempt to capture me."

"And you got your hands on one of the cards. Well done, Mr. Ashworth," Moody said.

"My thought is that we could find a nice, secluded place for an ambush. Someone activates the card while I'm walking around, clearly vulnerable, all while you and the aurors are hiding. The dark lord's minions show up and you nail them before they even know what happened. You'd then have a handful of wizards and possibly witches who have been caught in the act of assaulting me."

"I like it," Moody observed. "I like it a lot. Clearly, they would only be lackeys. We'd be obligated to investigate who it was that hired them. A little bit of pressure, and they might confess that their intent was to kidnap you. Conspiracy to kidnap is far more serious than just assault."

"You don't need to pressure them into admitting the idea was to kidnap Harry," Bellatrix said. "I think we've already got enough proof on that."

"This is true," Moody said.

Their meals arrived and conversation ceased until the server had finished placing plates on the table and had retreated. "As soon as we're done eating," Harry said, "let's go out and find a place and schedule a time for this little ambush."

~!~!~!~!~!

A couple of mornings later, Harry finished his shower, dried off, and got dressed. He then used his wand to undo the complicated locking charm he had placed on the door to ensure his privacy. He opened the door to find Bellatrix wearing only a bra and knickers. She was clearly annoyed that he had locked the door.

"Morning," Harry said cheerfully. "Don't take too long in the shower. If I have to leave without you, I will."

Bellatrix scowled at him, but said nothing. Harry had stubbornly resisted her attempts to entice Harry into a more intimate relationship. His proactive stance to avoiding her wiles had made it difficult for her to pursue the campaign without losing her dignity

Harry made his way to the kitchen where he made breakfast and served himself. Bellatrix, fully dressed, though her hair was wet, soon arrived and ate quickly. Harry had received a reply from a Mrs. Cole, matron of an orphanage, who recalled that Tom Riddle had once been one of her charges. Harry had contacted her and arranged a meeting. Bellatrix, of course, had insisted on going with him.

The pair were soon prepared to leave and promptly apparated from the main living room to a secluded alley in London. Their unorthodox arrival unnoticed by the Muggles, they stepped into the daily sidewalk traffic and walked the rest of the way to the orphanage Lord Voldemort had once called home.

They were shown from the orphanage's central reception into the private office of Mrs. Cole, who was responsible for maintaining the orphanage. She greeted them. "Mr. Ashworth," she said, addressing Harry, "it's nice to meet you. I hope I can be of help."

Harry glanced over to her desk and spotted the letter he had written and charmed. Apparently, her reading it in anticipation of the appointment had helped to make her helpful. "Yes," Harry said casually, "I think you can help. My . . . wife and I are looking for information about Tom Riddle."

Bellatrix arched one of her eyebrows at the term 'wife.' Harry mentally shrugged. He had been prepared to say business associate, but she wasn't quite dressed as a businesswoman. Wife would have to do. It gave them a certain measure of legitimacy anyhow. How likely was it that a man and his wife would be going around to orphanages and making inquiries for nefarious reasons?

Mrs. Cole nodded and they all sat down. With no further ado, Mrs. Cole began telling them everything she could about Tom Riddle with the addition of speculation and any conclusions she could infer from what she knew. She began with the basics—his name, his parents, how he had come to the orphanage, etc. Eventually, she moved onto how he got along with the other children.

"As he got older, nasty things began to happen to children he didn't get along with. It was very difficult for us to understand how some of the things could have happened," Mrs. Cole explained.

"I see," Harry said, finding this nasty nature hardly surprising. The mysterious nasty mishaps could also be easily explained by accidental magic, too.

"Was there a pattern to any of these nasty behaviors?" Bellatrix askd.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Mrs. Cole said.

"Well, for instance, was he cruel in the same way, did he have a pattern for victimizing the other children?"

Mrs. Cole shook her head as she tried to think back to the earlier days of Tom Riddle. "Every bad thing that happened tended to be different. You could say he was creative."

"Okay," said Bellatrix, "but was there ever an underlying strategy? Something that connected the things he did even though they were different?"

"He would only directly enter a confrontation if he believed he had the upper hand," Mrs. Cole said, frowning intently as she searched her mind for any helpful information. "He would also steal."

"Steal?" Harry asked.

"Trophies, I guess," Mrs. Cole said. "It seemed he often stole items from the other children he had bullied. In a way, they were his trophies. He had a twisted sort of sentimentality, you could say."

"Can you tell us anything more about this sentimentality?" Bellatrix asked intently.

"Well, items and places seemed of supreme importance to him. He was also obsessed with his parentage. He asked me on more than one occasion to help him find information about his father. I always tried, but it was difficult, especially in those times."

"I understand the obsession with items, and I already knew about his obsession with his father, but I'm not sure what you mean by places," Harry mused out loud.

Mrs. Cole shrugged. "We'd take the children to visit various places for a little holiday, you know. Lots of them would buy postcards or souvenirs. He'd buy postcards, but it would be different. It was as if somehow, the place he had visited would become his. It was the same with various locations around the orphanage. You might say he was very territorial."

"Okay," said Harry, vaguely understanding.

"Yes," said Mrs. Cole, "very territorial and possessive. Also very ambitious."

"Indeed," Bellatrix said.

"Whatever became of him?" Mrs. Cole asked.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Evening found Harry and Bellatrix at another posh London restaurant. Bellatrix had dressed in another fancy dress and had put her hair up with the familiar hair ornament. She seemed determined for Harry to court her. He had acquiesced and formally designated their outing as a date. He was even vaguely enjoying himself. The food was nice and Bellatrix's company was pleasant.

Ironically, Bellatrix could not stop thinking about the Voldemort situation. So, although Harry was prepared to engage in light and flirtatious conversation or even deep soul-searching query, her mind just was not on him or romance.

"I think," Bellatrix declared, "that the diary was a horcrux."

"A horcrux?" Harry asked. "What's that?"

Briefly, Bellatrix explained the details of how a wizard or witch could split their soul and place part of it into an object. Theoretically, any object would do, but in practice, one didn't incase a soul inside of an empty egg carton or pop can. Rather, the items were other living beings or highly magical objects.

"What you've told me about the diary and the incidents during your second year at Hogwarts point to the fact that the diary was a horcrux," Bellatrix said. "I had considered the possibility a few days ago and set it aside so I could research other possibilities, but after speaking with Mrs. Cole, I think the horcrux situation fits the dark lord most accurately."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"She said he took trophies from people. He's obsessed with objects and with places and with immortality. The horcrux is an object that can be secreted in a highly personalized place for protection. It renders the person practically immortal."

"How does it fit with taking trophies?" Harry said.

Bellatrix sighed. "To make a horcrux, you must kill someone in cold blood. If this dark lord is as evil as you say, stealing something from them, killing them, and turning the object into a horcrux would fit him exactly."

"I suppose that he did kill Myrtle," Harry observed, "though I doubt he stole the diary from her."

"I suppose so," Bellatrix said, "but it still fits, doesn't it?"

"I think so," Harry said. "I guess we'll have to find the diary, won't we?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "He probably hasn't given it to Lucius Malfoy for safe keeping yet. We should probably try to retrace some of his steps and find where he might have chosen to hide horcruxes or try to identify what objects he might have transformed into horcruxes."

"You're talking as if there's more than one horcrux," Harry said.

"Well, think about it, Harry. He's a maniac. You observed Rodolphus Lestrange making attempts to locate and purchase valuable, magic items at antique shops. Do you seriously think he'd stop at one horcrux? I wouldn't."

"Good point," Harry mused. "He'd probably hide them in locations important to him."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Harry nodded. "There's a town called Little Hangleton."

"Mrs. Cole said that his mother came from there," Bellatrix reminded Harry. "She was a Gaunt."

"Yes," said Harry, recalling that Voldemort had referred to the house Harry had visited Voldemort in as the Gaunt estate. "Did the Gaunts have an estate in Little Hangleton?"

Bellatrix snorted. "I should think not. They were a very poor, albeit pretentious family."

"Perhaps the Riddle house," Harry said, recalling his visit to the graveyard and some of Voldemort's comments. "It seemed like a ruin when I saw it in the future. If you wanted to hide something there, it would be pretty easy.

"Maybe we should pay a visit," Bellatrix observed.

~!~!~!~!~!

It so happened that the ambush plotted by Harry and Moody was scheduled for that same evening. Harry and Bellatrix proceeded directly from dinner to the dark alley the three of them had selected a few nights previous. Harry had offered to stop at their flat so Bellatrix could change into something more appropriate, but she had declined, pointing out that Moody was bound to have so many aurors there that the capture would be affected almost before the hostilities could have a chance to break out.

"You're late," Moody growled.

"No, we're not," Bellatrix retorted. "Besides, they don't come until Harry activates the card. This is completely under our control."

"That isn't the only factor," Moody complained. He turned to Harry. "All right, my men are in position." He pointed to a sidewalk. "Go there. Activate the card on my signal, and then start walking. As soon as they show up, we'll activate the preset anti-apparition and portkey wards. Once they've arrived, there's nothing they can do to get out."

Bellatrix yawned and watched as Harry followed Moody's instructions. Moody guided her down an alley and instructed her to stay in place during the attack. He then walked back to the opening of the alley from where he signaled Harry to activate the card before placing himself under a disillusionment spell.

A few moments passed and then the staccato of several apparition pops sounded, echoing down the alley. After a brief pause, the fight erupted as the aurors attempted to take custody of the Death Eaters who had come to kidnap Harry. It was over in a few moments. Once the sounds of spellfire ceased, Bellatrix emerged from the alley to find that the aurors had captured five of Lord Voldemort's followers.

Harry was standing nearly twenty feet away from where most of the fight had happened. His wand was drawn and pointed toward the fifth attacker while the aurors were securing the other four and preparing them for transportation to the Ministry holding cells. It was Rodolphus Lestrange. Feeling slightly annoyed that Harry had gotten the opportunity to participate in the fight without her, Bellatrix strode over to Harry and Rodolphus and scowled down at the wizard her mother and aunt had wanted her to marry.

"You killed Orion, didn't you?" Bellatrix said.

Rodolphus smirked at her. "It wouldn't be very wise of me to admit that now, would it? Besides, it doesn't matter if I did. Someone would have done it eventually. He was in the dark lord's way. There's also the fact that your aunt is so . . . cooperative when it comes to the dark lord's ambitions."

Bellatrix lashed out and kicked Rodolphus in the groin. Harry winced and smirked alternatively. Seeing Moody approaching from the corner of her eye, Bellatrix took the last private moment between her and Lestrange and hissed a parting message, "If you ever see my aunt again, you can tell her that I'm coming for her. Wherever she walks, she can worry that I'm around the next corner, ready to gut her."

Through the pain he was feeling, Rodolphus snickered as Moody approached, carrying a set of magic-inhibiting handcuffs. "I'm sure it will make you feel a lot better about everything."

Bellatrix went to kick him again, but Moody put a hand on her shoulder and retrained her. "Should've gotten that one in before I got closer," he said, smiling crookedly before placing the cuffs on Lestrange and stunning him unconscious.

Moody turned to Harry. "I'm surprised we got as many as five. I think they will prove very useful indeed. I can use them to try and get more information about the Dark Lord, and Minister Prewitt will no doubt use them to increase his political capital and influence the population against the dark lord's cause.

"Good," said Harry. "I might need to lay low for a bit. The dark lord isn't going to be happy about this."

Moody laughed raucously. "I should think not."

"You might also want to make sure Azkaban is secure," Harry suggested. "The dementors are the natural allies of dark lords. You wouldn't want him to break out his followers and get the dementors in one swoop."

"I don't know that these five are that valuable," Moody observed.

Harry glanced over at the other four unconscious prisoners. "I don't suppose you got Malfoy."

"No, I'm afraid not," Moody said.

Harry nodded. It looked like the aurors were ready to transport their prisoners. "I'll have to get with you later this week, Moody. We've found some clues that indicate that the dark lord may have taken certain steps to render himself nigh unto immortal. We'll poke around between now and then. Hopefully I can give you more concrete details when we next meet."

"Make sure you don't wait for a long time before contacting me," Moody growled. "I want details as soon as possible."

"No worries," Harry said. "It's not like I have all that much else to do these days."

Via apparition and portkey, the aurors departed with their prisoners, leaving Harry and Bellatrix standing alone.

"This is kind of anticlimactic," Bellatrix observed. "You'd think that after pulling off such a successful ambush we'd feel more successful.

Harry shrugged. "Small and successful battles can win the war."

Bellatrix nodded. "Yes, of course." There was a little bit of a silence before she spoke again. "Let's take a look at the Riddle house in Little Hangleton. You said that now that those five have been captured, you'd have to lay low. Maybe we can get away with a quick peek before Voldemort finds out."

"I doubt he'd come after me immediately for the ambush," Harry said. "When I said lay low, I meant that I'd probably want to avoid places like Diagon Alley for a while. They might double their efforts. Besides, I'm sure Voldemort knows by now, anyway."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Well maybe if he's distracted by this he will be less likely to worry about our visits to potential hiding places. I think it would be worth visiting Little Hangleton to see if our theory is correct."

Harry nodded, thinking back to how he had been taken to Little Hangleton during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Voldemort had sought refuse there as he waited for the opportunity to use Harry's blood in the ritual to restore him to his proper body. "Let's go then."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry and Bellatrix trudged toward Riddle Manor. Their visit to what the locals swigging ale in the pub had called the old Gaunt Shack had yielded nothing. It appeared that it was indeed the same place Harry had visited when meeting Voldemort. It was now abandoned. Apparently the hole Harry had blown in the wall or the fact that Harry knew its location or both had led Voldemort to abandon the place. On the other hand, a cursory inspection had revealed that it was not nearly as comfortable a residence as Harry had been led to believe. Voldemort had used charms to superficially remodel the place. Likely, the dark lord had used it only as an out of the way meeting place. Considering its low value and compromised nature, there was no good use for it.

Despite Harry doubting that Voldemort would hide anything in the place, he and Bellatrix had searched for any magically concealed objects. They had found nothing and had opted to proceed to Riddle Manor by way of the graveyard. Harry didn't explain the significance of the graveyard beyond showing Bellatrix where Voldemort's father was buried.

"I still think we should have stopped off at the flat and changed your clothes," Harry said, eyeing Bellatrix in her dress. She had long since removed her heels and was now carrying them. Her hair which had been immaculate at dinner was now quite nearly a mess.

Seeing Harry glance at her hair, Bellatrix reached up and tried to adjust it, removing the hair ornament and replacing it. "We're only taking a look," she said. "It's not like we're doing a major excavation here. Besides, if we're caught trespassing by anybody, we can just say that we got lost."

"Whatever," Harry said as they reached a door into the manor. Though the house was vacant and practically condemned, the door seemed to hold firm. A quick spell undid the lock. Harry and Bellatrix entered the abandoned manor, shutting the door behind them.

"Lumos," Bellatrix breathed, holding out her wand.

There was dust everywhere. The air itself was stale and dead. There had been no life in the house for a while. Harry searched his memories and recalled that Voldemort had mentioned something about killing his Muggle father. How long ago had it been? Surely not so long that the dust would be this bad. On the other hand, things did get dirty quickly. Harry realized that maybe he should have looked at the date on the tombstone when they had passed it. Perhaps he could check on the way out.

Harry and Bellatrix walked through the house. Each door they had to open creaked loudly. Harry winced each time even though he knew that there probably wasn't a soul within a mile or two to hear the noise. Eventually, they moved upstairs after finding nothing that smacked of a magical hiding place on the ground floor.

The upper floor seemed to consist primarily of bedrooms and a couple of came to a room at the end of the hall after methodically searching the other rooms. The room appeared to be the master bedroom. Harry went to enter, but Bellatrix's arm shot out in front of him.

"No," she said. "There's dark magic here."

"What do you mean?" Harry said. "How can you detect it?"

"I've used enough of it to feel the affinity—especially when blood was involved. There was a lot of blood here. I think someone may have been killed." Bellatrix said.

Harry nodded. "I guess I should have told you. Tom's father went and married someone other than Tom's mother. I guess Tom came and killed them all one night."

Bellatrix nodded, staring intently into the room. "I think we've got evidence that our theory may be correct. He could have made a horcrux and hidden it here, too. He may have even used an object that belonged to the family."

"Perhaps," Harry conceded, beginning to feel a faint tinge of excitement. If Bellatrix was right, then he had already made more progress against Voldemort than the Order ever had in his version of the future.

"I don't know if we can get past the dark magic safely," Bellatrix said, but I can cast a diagnostic spell to see what we're up against. If it's so bad that we can't do anything, we can come back later and be more prepared.

"All right," Harry said.

Bellatrix drew her wand, stepped back from the room a little bit, and delicately waved her wand at the room. A sluggish shockwave white light emanated from her wand and pushed into the room. It revealed a myriad of colors and spell weaves, as well as a number of runes on the floor.

"That's pretty bad," Harry observed, not needing Bellatrix's professional opinion to assess the severity of dark magic protecting whatever it was Voldemort was hiding.

"I think we're going to need help getting past all of this," Bellatrix sighed.

"I see," Harry said, his brow furrowed. "What does it take to destroy a horcrux?"

"I'm not sure," Bellatrix admitted. "I probably should have researched that more extensively. I can do it later, before we come back."

"I'm just thinking that fiendfyre is pretty effective," Harry observed. "I could set the house alight and it might destroy the horcrux if it is on the premises. If it doesn't, won't the fiendfyre burn through the materials to which the dark magic protecting the horcrux is anchored? Then we'd be able to retrieve the horcrux out of the ashes."

"That's a pretty good idea," Bellatrix said. "But if we burn down the entire house and the horcrux is susceptible to fiendfyre, we'll never know whether there was a horcrux."

"I didn't think of that," Harry grumbled.

"Here's an idea," Bellatrix said. "How well are you able to control fiendfyre?"

"Pretty well, if I'm not magically tired," Harry responded.

"Why don't you send a burst of fiendfyre into the room?" Bellatrix suggested. "Just enough to burn a centimeter or so off of every surface. That could destroy the wards. We then can assess whether that helped the situation any."

"Good plan," Harry said. He drew his wand as Bellatrix stepped further back from the entrance.

Harry took aim and let loose a wave of fiendfyre. Almost as soon as he cast it, Harry jerked back his wand, twisted it, and attempted to turn the fiendfyre in on itself. It proved difficult, and Harry was sweating profusely by the time he had extinguished it.

Bellatrix examined the damages as Harry caught his breath. "Looks like you may have ended up burning two or three centimeters. It was to be expected, though. Fiendfyre isn't exactly a precision tool."

"Did it do any good?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix was just in the process of casting the diagnostic charm when Harry's scar began to twinge rather intensely. Without wasting a moment, Harry grabbed Bellatrix and attempted to apparated the two of them away from the Riddle house. Unfortunately, there seemed to be anti-apparition wards in place.

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix gasped, knowing only that Harry had attempted and failed to apparate them away.

"Voldemort is here," Harry said tersely.

The tinge grew stronger. Knowing that Voldemort must be in the house, Harry looked toward the staircase and cast a reducto charm. It hurled toward the staircase and the wall beyond, but was abruptly blocked by a shield. A stunner came Harry's way as both Harry and Bellatrix dropped to the floor.

As soon as it passed, Harry shifted and aimed in the darkness toward Voldemort's apparent location. "Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled, resulting to his old standby. In the air, Harry's disarming spell met with a killing curse from Voldemort. The wands being brothers resulted in the Priori Incantatem effect. Harry and Voldemort's wands connected. Red light shot from Harry's wand and green from Voldemort's.

The spell beams lit up the hallway, revealing clearly Voldemort's position next to the top of the staircase and highlighting Harry's unfortunate position on the floor. Determination showed on Harry's face while what might have been fear and consternation showed on Voldemort's

"Who are you, Harry Ashworth?" Voldemort cried above the roaring of the spell beams and the echo of phoenix song. "How did you know of this place?"

Knowing that his focus was essential to winning the Priori Incantatem battle, Harry declined to reply, but focused on pushing the center of the beams toward Voldemort's wand.

It was not merely a duel between Harry and Voldemort, however. Bellatrix was there, too. "Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix screamed. A green ball of light zipped toward Voldemort. Narrowly, he dodged, wincing as it exploded into the wall, sending shards of plaster and wood flying back.

The connection between the two wands broke—partially because of Voldemort's dodging Bellatrix's killing curse and partially of his own volition, for he had realized that he was losing the Priori Incantatem battle to Harry.

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix yelled again and again.

Harry watched as Voldemort nimbly dodged Bellatrix's killing curses. "Keep it up," Harry told her, hoping that Bellatrix heard.

Resulting once again to fiendfyre, Harry cast it toward Voldemort. If it caught the house of fire, it would be difficult for Voldemort to dodge both the fire and the killing curses. Perhaps if one of Bellatrix's killing curses hit home, Voldemort would be left in condition similar to how he had been after having failed to kill Harry. That would give him and Bellatrix enough time to search out the rest of the horcruxes. Then, they could go straight to Albania where Harry knew Voldemort was wont to hide.

Between dodging Bellatrix's curses and Harry's fiendfyre, it was difficult for Voldemort to fire countercurses, but he was not about to give up. There was too much at stake. He began to retreat down the stairs. Harry and Bellatrix pressed forward, keeping pace as Bellatrix fired curse after curse toward the dark lord.

Seeing that Voldemort was retreating and seeing that the fiendfyre was proving very distracting for Voldemort, Harry realized that if he could distract Voldemort even more, then perhaps the dark lord would lose focus and get hit by one of Bellatrix's curses. With a faint smile of hope, Harry wildly began casting reducto curses at the wall and even toward Voldemort. Debris from the damages began to pile up. With an extremely broad sweep of his wand, Harry banished everything that wasn't human or held down toward Voldemort. Let the dark lord try to dodge that, the fiendfyre, and a few killing curses, Harry smirked as he watched the debris lift in the air and began zooming toward Voldemort.

A sudden cry of surprise from Bellatrix alerted Harry to the fact that something had gone wrong. He glanced back toward her and saw her clutching her hair. Her hairdo had fallen because the hair ornament was no longer in it. Harry gasped and spun back toward Voldemort. He spotted among the debris flying toward Voldemort the magical hairpin.

Before Harry could calculate the possible severity of what had just happened, Voldemort, no longer being forced to dodge Bellatrix's killing curses, jabbed his wand forward and let loose a shockwave blast followed by a banishing charm of his own. Harry's own charm was easily cancelled and the debris Harry had created zoomed toward Harry and Bellatrix at lightning speed.

The wood and plaster smacked into Harry and Bellatrix, cutting up their bodies while Bellatrix feebly tried to cast a shield charm. And then, abruptly, Harry gasped as he felt the hairpin plunge into his stomach. Suddenly feeling weak, he fell toward the floor. Dimly he could hear Bellatrix hysterically screaming defiance as Voldemort laughed and shouted the incantation for fiendfyre.

Bellatrix shot several more killing curses toward the dark lord, but it was unnecessary. Voldemort was retreating, already having written Harry and Bellatrix off as dead. Sobbing, Bellatrix dropped down next to Harry and grabbed the hairpin.

"No," Harry gasped weakly, instinctively knowing that ripping it out could do more damage.

Before either could do anything more, dizziness overcame them both.

END OF PART ONE

The One with the Power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall come . . . he who is marked the equal of the Dark Lord . . . he who is tied to the Daughter of the Stars and has altered her path in the heavens . . . from the seat of the Blacks he will haunt the Dark Lord's paths and have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and One must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall come . . . ~Sybill Trelawney

26. Mostly Dead on Arrival

A/N: As always, thank you for your many reviews.

Chapter 25

By

Lord Silvere

The world spun around Harry and Bellatrix as flames of fiendfyre danced about them and consumed Riddle Manor. Desperately, Bellatrix hung onto Harry, a hand on the hair ornament protruding from his gut and one of her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Bellatrix tried to fight the dizziness that was enveloping her. She had to do something to help Harry. His breathing was growing shallow. The dizziness worsened and was soon accompanied by a deep chill. For an instant, she closed her eyes, and it was over.

Surprised, Bellatrix opened her eyes and surveyed their surroundings. There was no trace of Riddle Manor. The land sprawled around them was lightly sprinkled with snow, and the sun sat ready to set just above the western horizon. Just in sight was the graveyard where Harry had pointed out the burial place of Lord Voldemort's father. There was no sign that large house had ever stood where Bellatrix and Harry were. An involuntary gasp from Harry summoned Bellatrix's attention to him.

"We've got to get you to St. Mungo's," Bellatrix breathed, gingerly removing her hand from the hair ornament that Voldemort's spell had implanted into Harry's stomach. She eased her arm from around him and gently laid him back on the ground.

"No," Harry whispered, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open.

"You need medical help desperately," Bellatrix argued.

"Time travel," Harry muttered sluggishly. "Riddle Manor isn't here. We must be in the future. Dangerous."

Bellatrix glanced around their surroundings again. The snow definitely was not right for what would have been summer. She took her wand and cast a spell to clear away the snow. The grass and vegetation continued uninterrupted. If Harry was right, they had traveled more than six months or a year into the future. If Bellatrix had not known for herself that a large house had once stood where she and Harry were, she would not believe it for a second.

"Do you think the dark lord is still about?" Bellatrix asked nervously, mentally trying to figure in her mind just what sort of situation they were facing.

"Definitely," Harry muttered. "Home. Let's go home."

Following Harry's wishes, but going against her instincts to seek normal medical attention, Bellatrix gathered Harry into her arms, doing her best to avoid making him uncomfortable. Using her wand, she double-apparated them directly into their flat. She was pleased to discover that it was still their flat. Their furnishings sat undisturbed save for an extremely thick coating of dust. Another spell levitated Harry into the air, allowing Bellatrix to move him to his bedroom.

A number of cleaning spells rendered the room habitable, and Bellatrix soon had Harry stripped of his outer garments and in his bed. He was struggling to stay awake.

"What do you propose we do now, Harry?" Bellatrix asked. He had resisted her pulling out the hairpin and had resisted the idea of going to a hospital. She wanted to know what he had that was better. If he did not know, she could improvise.

"The contract," Harry whispered.

"What?" Bellatrix asked.

"Marriage contract," Harry said in a low voice, obviously straining to retain consciousness. His face was quite pale. "I'll sign it. You'll inherit everything."

Bellatrix was struck by a violent mixture of emotion. She wanted nothing more than for Harry to sign the contract, but not like this. Not if he thought signing it would give him license to pass on and leave her alone to resist, flee from, or fight Voldemort. "No, Harry," she said. "Not like this."

"Yes," Harry said. "Please. Just in case."

Bellatrix left the room. It took her only a moment to find where she had put the contract. The parchment had aged significantly, and Bellatrix began to wonder just how far they had traveled into the future. She fetched a quill and ink and was soon at Harry's bedside. "You have to sign in two places," she told Harry, tears welling up in her eyes. "But remember, you're going to get well again."

"We don't know that," Harry grunted, straining as he made a pair of illegible squiggles on the parchment. "Guess we're married now."

"Not until I send this to the bank," Bellatrix replied, feeling very strange. She pocketed the signed marriage contract. "What are we going to do to get you help?"

"I have potions stored in caches I've hidden," Harry whispered.

"Where are they?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry began to try to explain, but his condition was becoming worse and what he was saying did not make sense to Bellatrix.

"Have you written their locations down?" Bellatrix urged.

Harry shook his head in a frustrated, yet pathetically weak manner.

Bellatrix realized that Harry was on the verge of losing consciousness. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. "Harry," she said, "look into my eyes. I can try to use legilimency. Just think of some of your caches."

Harry's gaze was very dull, but he stared into Bellatrix's violet eyes. Bellatrix raised her wand and cast the spell to read his mind. It didn't work. "You need to open your mind to me," Bellatrix urged.

She tried again, and barely, she felt her consciousness slip in behind Harry's eyes. It was as if she was looking through his eyes but at things that weren't there. Somewhat shocked, Bellatrix watched as he kicked a box down into her father's opened grave. Vaguely, she could feel a sense of embarrassment coming from Harry's feelings. He probably had not anticipated her finding out about that cache. The scene changed, and Harry was in an unfinished house. He secured another box into the fireplace of the home.

"I need to know where that house is, Harry," Bellatrix said slowly so as not to disrupt her tenuous connection with and focus on Harry's mind.

Slowly, the scene in Harry's mind changed as he attempted to draw Bellatrix a map on how to find his aunt and uncle's house. This coincided with Harry's other memories of the house. Harry's mind showed to Bellatrix the relative position of the house in the neighborhood and then the position of the neighborhood within its greater area, and the greater area's relative position to London. Unbidden, Harry's mind also showed Bellatrix some other memories.

Bellatrix was startled as a very rotund man suddenly was screaming at her. "Freak!" This was followed with a bony woman demanding that Harry cook breakfast and mow the lawn. A ridiculously fat boy was soon bullying Harry. Confused, it took Bellatrix a moment to realize that she was looking at Harry's childhood. As soon as she realized this, she also realized that she could feel shame from Harry.

Quickly, Bellatrix withdrew from Harry's mind and found herself focusing on Harry's green eyes. "Right," she said very slowly. "I think two will be enough for now. You hang on, and I'll be back shortly."

Harry said nothing, but closed his eyes.

Panic gripped Bellatrix's heart, and she reached out and took Harry's limp hand to feel for his pulse. It was there, and Bellatrix sighed with relief. He would be just resting. He had time yet.

Bellatrix rushed to her room and in a flurry changed her outfit into something more suitable than what she had worn to dinner with Harry before their fateful incident in Little Hangleton. She then apparated to Diagon Alley—onto the steps of Gringotts.

The goblin sentinels were startled enough by Bellatrix's sudden appearance that they shifted uncomfortably. Bellatrix shoved the marriage contract at one of them. "Take this to whoever is on duty. I want it processed immediately. Both of you can withdraw fifty galleons from my account for services rendered. The goblin that processes it can have one hundred if the contract is properly registered within half an hour."

With that, Bellatrix turned and glanced at Diagon Alley as one of the goblin sentries rushed into the bank. The sun had only just gone down, but the streets were completely empty save for the usual shops. The shops did not look so well themselves. They clearly were not abandoned, but some of them had suffered serious vandalism. Shaking her head to gather her wits, Bellatrix told herself that she would have to wonder about Diagon Alley later.

A quick apparition pop landed Bellatrix on Privet Drive. The street was precisely has Harry had shown to her in his mind. The thought of Harry's mind brought the memories of his childhood unbidden to the front of Bellatrix's mind. As she strolled down the middle of the street, her violet eyes began to faintly smolder.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Dudley Dursley was lying on the floor with his eyes glued to the telly while his mother gossiped with a neighbor on the phone and his father read the newspaper, letting out the occasional grunt of satisfaction at the scores published in the sports section.

"Change it to the news, Dudley," Vernon Dursley said, glancing at his watch. "We'll want to catch the stock earnings."

"Stocks don't come on until the end of the news," Dudley whined. The whining noise was hardly consistent with the sight of a beached whale stranded on the living room floor.

Vernon shook his head proudly as he stood up. "That's a good boy, Dudders. You don't give in. However, I'm the man of the house, and it's my telly." Vernon pushed the button and the channel changed. Lest he be circumvented by Dudley changing the channel, Vernon also grabbed the remote and brought it back to the couch with him.

The newscasters appeared, sitting at their customary desks in their fake office facades. "The week concluded with yet another violent incident perpetrated by the mysterious black-clad terrorists," the newscaster droned. "The prime minister has issued a reminder that police are now authorized to carry special firearms and use excessive and deadly force—especially after sundown."

"Stupid freaks," Vernon muttered underneath his breath.

A knock sounded at the front door. Petunia was too busy to notice, but Vernon and Dudley forgot about the television and stared toward the front door.

"Who in their right mind goes out visiting?" Vernon said scathingly, pushing himself off the couch and propelling himself toward the front hall.

"Don't answer, Dad," Dudley squeaked.

"Those stupid freaks don't have any reason to bother us," Vernon retorted. "It's probably that moron next door wanting to borrow my power drill again. He should hire a contractor and do his remodeling properly, if you ask me."

Curiosity overwhelmed Dudley, and he exerted considerable effort to flip himself around and scoot forward so he could have a good view of the door. He watched as Vernon opened the door. A young woman stood on the doorstep. A thick mane of raven-black hair framed her pale face, which was highlighted by gleaming violet eyes. Dudley stared, suddenly feeling lust.

"Er . . . can I be of assistance?" Vernon inquired curiously, also drinking in her looks greedily.

"Yes, you can," the young woman answered with a small grin, bringing her hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a giggle. However, before the hand got to her face, it stopped in midair and jolted imperceptibly. A black stick was now pointed at a spot between Vernon Dursley's eyes.

"You're one of those freaks!" Vernon exclaimed, drawing the attention of Petunia who had finished her phone call and had just now noticed that a strange person was in their home.

"Yes, I am," the girl whispered, walking forward, forcing Vernon to step back as Dudley and Petunia stared with fright. Vernon's backside bumped into the stair railing, and he was forced to remain standing there while the girl casually slammed the front door shut behind her, never taking her eyes from Vernon.

""What do you want?" Vernon demanded, his face reddening as he tried to be brave in the face of a crazed intruder.

Bellatrix's eyes looked past Vernon's shoulder and fell upon the door to the cupboard under the stairs. "Tell me, Mr. Dursley. Have you ever locked anybody in that cupboard?"

"No," Vernon said, shaking his head emphatically.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Vernon squeaked, staring cross-eyed at Bellatrix's wand.

Bellatrix turned her attention to the beached whale. "Has he ever locked anybody in the cupboard?"

Dudley shook his head, his eyes wide.

Bellatrix looked back to Vernon. "It's your lucky day. Or rather, your day has become luckier than it might have been otherwise." She withdrew her wand from Vernon's face and proceeded to enter the living room proper, her attention directed to the fireplace. She waved her wand at the fireplace and dissipated all of the magic Harry had placed on it to protect his cache.

"Who are you?" Petunia demanded shrilly.

"My identity isn't relevant to you," Bellatrix retorted, casting another spell to make sure that Harry had not forgotten to let her know about any extra defenses surrounding his cache. As she cast the detecting spell, she noticed the newspaper Vernon had been reading and picked it up.

Vernon was outraged. "Don't you touch my newspaper!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and shuffled the sections around until she found the main page. The date was printed beneath the masthead. December 19, 1997. "Perfect," Bellatrix mumbled to herself.

"I was reading those sports scores," Vernon Dursley barked. "I demand that you leave this house at once! You have no leave to just walk into someone's house and mess around with their newspaper."

Bellatrix casually swung her wand around and casted a jelly leg jinx at Vernon. He went down onto the floor, unable to stand while affected by the jinx. "You'll wish that messing with your newspaper was the only thing I did to you before I'm done," Bellatrix declared.

"If my sister sent you, I'll wring her neck!" Petunia shouted at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix turned to Petunia and arched one of her eyebrows coolly. "What does your sister have to do with anything?"

"She's a freak, just like you."

"You're the freak," Bellatrix retorted, "but for the sake of conversation, perhaps you could tell me who your sister is. Maybe I know her."

"Lily Potter," Petunia spat. "She went to your freaky school and married another freak."

"Lily Potter," Bellatrix said slowly, the light dawning in her eyes. "As in Lily Evans?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

Bellatrix smiled wryly. "Yes. If it makes you feel any better, I kind of thought she was a freak, too."

"Oh."

Bellatrix turned back to the fireplace and cast a spell that caused the bricks to open up and reveal one of Harry's boxes. Bellatrix grabbed the box, set it on the couch, and opened it. Petunia stepped over the look into the box, her nosy nature overcoming her fear and outrage.

Bellatrix reached into the box and smirking at Petunia, withdrew a handful of golden galleons and slowly dropped them back into the box. "Bet you didn't know that you had wizard gold hidden in your house!" She sorted through the potions contained among the money, wands, and colored cube before shutting the box. "That's all I need. Well, except for that newspaper. I'll be taking it."

"How dare you!" Vernon yelled, somehow sounding manly despite his position on the floor.

"If you don't know how I did it by now, you'll never learn," Bellatrix replied as she slapped the newspaper on top of the box. She shuffled through it and retrieved the sports section. "I'll leave you with this, however." She walked over to where Vernon was on the floor twitching, kneeled down, separated one of the pages, crumpled it up, and stuffed it in his mouth before scattering the rest of the pages around the house.

"That should do it," Bellatrix announced as she used magic to restrain Vernon's hands in order to prevent him from simply removing the newspaper gag. She turned to Petunia. "As freaky as your sister is, I'm sure she'd still be nice enough to come over and fix everything up with magic. If I were you, I would be really nice in the asking, and I wouldn't give Lily too many details about my physical appearance. If I run into her and she knows I was here, or if I hear you weren't so nice to her, you can bet I'll be back. I'm the kind of girl that only needs an excuse."

"Who are you?" Petunia asked again, her eyes fearfully darting from Bellatrix, to the hole in the fireplace, and to her husband who was on the floor chewing on the newspaper and writhing as if he was suffering a seizure.

Bellatrix looked back and giggled. "In a very twisted, roundabout sort of way, you could say that I'm your niece." She looked down to the floor from where Dudley had been ogling her. "Which means, tubby, that I'm off limits to you." She blew Dudley a kiss, grabbed the box and newspaper, yanked open the front door, and strode out, neglecting to close it behind her. From inside the house, the Dursleys heard her yell to them from the front walk. "See you at the family reunion."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix grumbled as she cast an unlocking charm on a Muggle pharmacy. The sign above the storefront had proclaimed that it was open twenty-four seven, but Bellatrix had found that the store was closed anyway. A handwritten sign on the door proclaimed that the pharmacy opened one hour after sunrise and closed one hour before sundown. It seemed very peculiar to Bellatrix, but she was not about to think about it too hard. Harry was at home and needed medical attention urgently.

She was soon in and had locked the door behind her. Using her wand to light her way through the store, she gathered anything that looked like it might be useful for Harry's situation. Bellatrix found some bags at the register where she left a more than enough of the cash she had found in Harry's box to cover her informal purchases.

Satisfied that she had gathered enough supplies to address Harry's immediate needs, Bellatrix apparated back to the flat. Harry was unconscious and running a very high fever. The hair ornament was still protruding from his stomach, but it appeared that he had possessed the fortune to avoid rolling over onto it.

Briefly, Bellatrix debated over whether she should focus on getting the ornament safely out or whether she should focus on getting potions into Harry first. Potions won, and Bellatrix spent the next twenty minutes wrestling Harry into a sitting position and trickling various potions down his throat.

The hair ornament proved to be trickier than it really needed to be. Nervous about actually touching the ornament again, Bellatrix retrieved some tongs from the kitchen so that she could remove the ornament without touching it. With the aid of some precautionary magic, the ornament came out of Harry quite smoothly, though it caused Harry to bleed profusely.

Bellatrix used the tongs to drop the ornament into the box the potions had come in—she had emptied it of its contents. She reckoned that it was sturdy enough to hold the ornament securely. When she got a chance, she would take it to the vault at Gringotts. It broke her heart to be separated from the heirloom, but it had proved to be dangerous.

Stopping Harry's bleeding was a difficult task, but Bellatrix felt that she had done it in a timely manner. Furthermore, the potions she had already managed to get into Harry would help him restore his blood and protect against infection in addition to promoting healing.

Once finished, Bellatrix settled Harry back down into his bed and cleaned up. She yawned and looked down at Harry's prone form. "You do realize that this is the longest day I've ever had, don't you? It started about twenty years ago."

Abruptly, a cold sensation wrapped itself around Bellatrix's ring finger. Stifling a yelp, Bellatrix reflexively glanced at the hand and discovered delicate band lined with diamonds and black jewels. She smiled and looked down at Harry. "It's our wedding day, too." She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'll be back soon, Harry. I want another of your boxes on hand."

~!~!~!~!~!

Stifling yet another yawn, Bellatrix summoned the box lying on top of her father's coffin to her. Feeling rather morbid, she looked down at the coffin for several moments before setting the box aside and using magic to replace the dirt in the grave. She then exerted a marginal amount of effort to conceal the fact that the grave had been disturbed.

Unbidden, thoughts of the death of her father and uncle came to the forefront of her mind. It had not been very long for her, even though they had been dead for over twenty years. Her ire began to rise as she thought back to her confrontation with her mother and aunt after her father's funeral—and Lestrange's comments from just earlier before she and Harry had happened across Voldemort.

Casually, Bellatrix moved around the graveyard that sat in the shadows of the Ravenbourgh ruins. Regulus Black had joined the ranks of the Black dead, it seemed. And her mother. Bellatrix stopped and stared at the tombstone of her mother—the tombstone that signified that Bellatrix was officially an orphan, albeit an orphan already of age. By the moonlight she read the dates of her mother's life. Druella had died relatively young—at least, relatively young for a witch. Bellatrix was not sure about the life statistics of Muggles.

At the bottom of the tombstone, a final phrase had been engraved in honor of Druella. "Beloved Mother of Narcissa, Bellatrix, and - Black." The third name had been crudely obliterated. Bellatrix smirked. Andromeda must have objected to being described as the beloved daughter of Druella. Bellatrix took her wand and blasted her name from the tombstone. She was not the beloved daughter of her mother by any means. Suddenly feeling rather angry and depressed, Bellatrix returned to her father's tombstone and sat down against it as tears came to her eyes.

In the space of the past month, she had lost her uncle and her father. She had been attacked by the dark lord. Her aunt and mother had heartlessly tried to match her up with the wizard responsible for the deaths of her father and uncle. Voldemort had nearly killed Harry and might still succeed if Harry did not get well. All of her plans had practically been frustrated.

She was now Lady Black, but for what? Her anger and sadness built upon itself, summoning other memories in which Bellatrix had been sad or angry. Her mother had never treated her well. Her aunt had always been nearly contemptuous of her, treating her as a pawn. The only people that had treated her decently had been her father and uncle—and Harry, though he had been reluctant to become too intimate. Her mother and aunt had practically taken that away from her.

It was not long before Bellatrix began sobbing. Her sobs eventually transformed into howls anger. Eventually, she remembered what she had promised her mother and aunt. When she became Lady Black, she would burn them from the family tapestry. Bellatrix looked down at her left hand. On the ring finger was the ring that made her Lady Black. Vaguely she wondered whether it was the same ring Walburga had once possessed or whether it was a different ring. Bellatrix quashed the thought. It did not matter. What mattered for this moment was the tapestry. If Grimmauld Place was undefended, and if the circumstances were right, she would alter the family tapestry tonight.

~!~!~!~!

A simple charm alerted Walburga Black to the fact that someone had entered the Ancient House of Black through the front door. Assuming that it was one of the dark lord's followers in need of aid, Walburga got out of her bed, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the front hall with her wand lighting the way. It was empty.

Frowning, Walburga turned slowly, scrutinizing everything the light from her wand made visible. "Is anyone there?" she said, raising her voice slightly. There must be someone. The charm would not go off if nobody had entered the house. There was no possibility that Kreacher had set it off, either. The charm only detected wizards and witches.

"Hello?" Walburga called.

Nobody responded.

Deciding that a follower of the dark lord had merely taken advantage of Grimmauld Place as a location to dodge into and apparate from, Walburga yawned and made her way back up the stairs. It was at the top of the stairs that she smelled smoke. It took only a moment to detect that the smoke was coming from the tapestry room.

"Kreacher!" Walburga screamed, rushing toward the room and opening the door. Inside, she found that the entire tapestry was aflame. "Kreacher!" Walburga yelled, using her wand to start shooting water at the flames. The water had no effect.

The firelight flickered and cast shadows on Walburga's panicked face as she stared at the burning tapestry. Behind her, she heard a small giggle. Walburga spun around and was startled to see her niece Bellatrix standing there, fingering her wand casually.

"You're dead," Walburga breathed in amazement.

"Who told you that?" Bellatrix asked. "The dark lord?"

Walburga said nothing.

"Your silence speaks for you," Bellatrix said, an odd smile on her face. "I bet you didn't lose a minute of sleep over it. I had planned to save the tapestry, but you have burned so many names from it that I decided we may as well get a new one. I can assure you that your name will not be on it. You betrayed the Blacks by murdering your husband and my father."

"You know nothing, child," Walburga sneered.

"Says the woman who didn't even know I was alive," Bellatrix retorted.

Walburga was furious, but she had still had a weapon about which Bellatrix had apparently failed to remember. Kreacher had finally arrived and was waiting in the shadows outside the door to the tapestry room. "Defend me, Kreacher!" Walburga screamed.

The fanatically loyal house elf used its magic to pop into the center of the room. Like a maniac, he grinned at Bellatrix and raised his hand. The house elf's fingers snapped and a flash of light and heat exploded outward from the house elf toward Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's new Black family ring buzzed and the house elf's magic bypassed her. Bellatrix glanced down at her person and saw that she was completely unscathed. "I guess you forgot that a Black house elf can't strike down the mistress of the Black family," she said. "He's also obligated to follow my every wish.

Walburga gasped. "You're Lady Black?"

Bellatrix deigned to make no reply to Walburga. Rather, she addressed the house elf. "Kreacher," Bellatrix said, "you may continue serving Walburga. However, you shall not allow her to leave the house or communicate with any person other than me. Nobody is to know I was here or that I am alive or that I am giving you orders." Bellatrix continued to tiredly rattle off instructions to Kreacher. She knew well that house elves were tricky creatures and thus did her utmost best to cut off every loophole the creature would try to find. Walburga was to be a prisoner in her own house—at least until it did not matter whether Walburga could advertise that she and Harry were alive and well. Perhaps then, Bellatrix would turn her out onto the streets penniless.

Vaguely, Bellatrix wondered whether Harry would approve of what she had done tonight. Probably not. He was somewhat cautious by nature—at least when it came to planning. However, the marriage contract had given Bellatrix latitude to deal with the members of the Black family.

Satisfied that she had properly instructed the house elf with regard to Walburga's care and that the instructions were sufficient to keep her and Harry's own presence in the future secret, Bellatrix prepared to depart from Grimmauld Place.

"Who did you marry to become Lady Black?" Walburga said loudly, demanding that Bellatrix pay attention to her.

Bellatrix smiled at Walburga cheekily. "Lord Black, of course. I'll be seeing you later, auntie. I trust that you have all sorts of information about the dark lord that I'll want to know about."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry moaned. He didn't feel good. Faintly, he heard an apparition pop. Could it be that Bellatrix had returned, or was he fever dreaming again?

"You're up," came Bellatrix's voice through the dark of the room.

"Thirsty," Harry mumbled.

"We'll see to it," Bellatrix said, obviously struggling to sound cheerful. Soon, she had a cup filled with cool water up to Harry's lips. He struggled to sip it. Once he had signified that he was satisfied, she withdrew and was soon back with some potions. "You stocked your safe boxes well," Bellatrix commented softly. "We've got enough potions to last you a few days."

Fuzzily, Harry forced himself to sip the potions she was proffering him because he knew they would help him feel better. It was not long before she finished the round of potions and helped him settle into the bed. Vaguely, he sensed her cast a transfiguration charm on the bed, making it wider.

She must have detected a confused expression on his face, for she defended her actions. "We're married now, Harry. There's no point in being shy, especially now that you're going to need me looking after you as much as possible."

In all honesty, Harry was too sleepy to care or even seriously think about the situation, but he was nevertheless very appreciative to feel Bellatrix slip into the bed and gingerly cuddle up next to him. It felt very comforting. In a matter of seconds, he fell asleep and slept peacefully—aided by some of the potions she had administered.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"My lady!" a squeaky voice demanded. "My lady!"

Bellatrix cracked open her eyes and stared blearily at Kreacher who was standing on the foot of her and Harry's bed near where her feet were under the blankets. "What is it, Kreacher?" she mumbled, still too tired to consider seriously waking up for the day.

"Mistress Walburga is dead," Kreacher announced.

Bellatrix's breath caught and her eyes shot open. "What?"

"Mistress ordered me to hang her portrait in the hall and then killed herself," Kreacher proclaimed.

"That old biddy," Bellatrix sighed, closing her eyes again. She should have anticipated that her aunt would rather die than be subjected to the humiliation of taking orders from her niece. She should have predicted it and instructed Kreacher to ensure that she did not commit suicide.

"What is Kreacher to do?" the house elf asked.

Bellatrix groaned. She really wanted to go back to bed. As she considered the options, Bellatrix absently, reached out to Harry's sleeping form to check whether he had a fever. He would need more potions sooner than later.

"Mistress?"

"Is Sirius still alive?"

"He is," Kreacher affirmed, sounding rather scandalized.

Bellatrix recalled seeing the night before that Walburga had apparently burned Sirius from the tapestry. Walburga had probably indoctrinated her house elf against her son. A lot of good it had done. Orion's "will" had provided that Sirius inherit Grimmauld Place after his mother's death.

"You'll be taking orders from him because he now owns the house," Bellatrix told Kreacher. "Go to him and inform him of his mother's passing. Remember that I wasn't there last night and that for all you know, Bellatrix Black has been dead for twenty years."

"And the portrait?" Kreacher asked.

"If you like it, you can keep it up as long as you want," Bellatrix grumbled, rolling over to find a more comfortable position in the bed. "Now, get out of here."

~!~!~!~!~!

A sheet draped over the couch shielded Walburga's corpse from view. Walburga had chosen to poison herself via a goblet of wine. Walburga had left the goblet on a side table, and Professor Dumbledore had cast a spell around the goblet to prevent it from being disturbed until appropriate Ministry officials could arrive and examine it. Sirius and his wife, Cassie, were standing in front of the couch, staring down at Walburga's covered body. They were having an argument.

"I don't care how expensive the couch is," Sirius said. "We're getting rid of it."

"It's a really good couch," Cassie retorted. "They don't make them that well anymore."

"My mother hosted Death Eaters in this house all the time!" Sirius declared. "Voldemort could have sat on this couch. Do you want to be sitting on a couch where Voldemort might have sat and where my mother offed herself?"

"Do you really think Voldemort would sit on a couch next to someone?" Cassie retorted. "If you're going by that argument, we may as well get rid of all the furnishings. We can't afford that."

"We could auction off the couch. Tons of people would want to buy it," Sirius defended. "We could turn a profit on lots of this stuff."

Cassie shook her head, but was spared from answering when her sixteen-year-old son burst into the room.

"Guess what?" Leo said loudly.

"What?" Sirius asked, returning the enthusiasm.

"Professor Dumbledore says that someone other than the elf and the old bag was in the house last night. He thinks that she might have been murdered!"

"Leo! Show some respect for your dead grandmother." Cassie scolded.

"Leo, I forbid you to refer to that thing as your grandmother," Sirius said seriously.

Professor Dumbledore entered the room and was promptly assailed by Sirius's wife. "Is it true that you think that Sirius's mother was murdered?"

"I am not entirely sure," Dumbledore said. "However, there are definitely suspicious circumstances. The burned remains of the Black tapestry are particularly noteworthy. I do not think your mother would have done that herself. I also detect a recent magical signature that was different from that of your mother's. Perhaps the house elf could shed further light on the situation. Sirius, would you summon him?"

"Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Get up here!"

In short order, Kreacher appeared with a small pop. "Master called?"

"Be a sport and answer the headmaster's questions," Sirius directed.

"Kreacher," Dumbledore said, looking at the house elf over the half-moon rims of his spectacles. "Was there anyone other than you or the late Mistress Black in the house night?"

The house elf looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Answer him," Sirius urged.

"There was another person in the house last night," Kreacher admitted to Dumbledore as Sirius, Cassie, and Leo looked on.

"Do you recall when this was?" Dumbledore asked.

Kreacher squirmed and stepped back and forth, avoiding eye contact with the wizards and witch in the room.

"Stop resisting," Sirius commanded the elf. "If you can answer the question at all, answer immediately."

"It was in the early hours of the morning," Kreacher told Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction. "Was this person an invited guest?"

Kreacher shook his head.

"Did this person light the tapestry on fire?"

Kreacher nodded.

"Did the late Mistress Black and this person speak with each other or interact?"

Kreacher nodded.

"Was Walburga Black alive when this person left the house?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes," Kreacher affirmed aloud.

"Are we playing twenty questions?" Sirius demanded, rolling his eyes. "Kreacher, simply relate everything that happened last night."

"I can't," Kreacher said.

Sirius took a threatening step toward Kreacher. "Now that my mother is dead, I am your master! I command you to tell everything about this person who came to the house last night."

Kreacher shook his head mutely.

"Look, elf, I don't care if my mother gave you orders to not speak to me or follow my commands. She is dead, and I have inherited you. I hereby revoke any and all commands given to you by my mother, father, or anyone else that owned you prior to then."

Kreacher shook his head.

"You're not his master," Dumbledore observed quietly. He looked imploringly into the house elf's eyes. "Who is your master?"

"I can't say," the house elf said.

"Is the person who came to the house last night your master?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can't say," Kreacher declared. He raised his hand, snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

"Interesting," Dumbledore sighed. "Very interesting."

"I can call him back," Sirius offered.

Dumbledore shook his head, declining the offer. "It would do no good. He has no doubt gone to this mysterious master. The mysterious master will probably alter the instructions given to the elf."

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he took a seat in an unoccupied armchair. "I think it is reasonable to hypothesize that Walburga Black's mysterious visitor is Kreacher's master. I do not think this mysterious person intended for us to discover his or her existence. Thus, I suspect the house elf was instructed to follow your instructions as if you were his master insofar as the instructions did not clash with other instructions."

"So, the house elf had no choice but to answer some of those questions because this other master did not directly forbid the elf to answer them," Cassie chimed in.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "This alternate master is no doubt fixing the loopholes in the instructions as we speak."

Three pops sounded in the hallway, heralding the arrival of visitors. There was a crash as something toppled to the floor, and suddenly, the portrait of Sirius's mother was screaming.

"We're going to have to do something about that portrait," Cassie declared.

"I think it's cool," Leo said, grinning.

The Potter clan, five in number, entered the room in which Professor Dumbledore and the Black family were standing.

"We're sorry that we couldn't come sooner," Lily announced. "Some crazy witch broke into my sister's house last night and terrorized the family. We felt obligated to go over and help fix the damages."

"She stuffed a newspaper into my Uncle Vernon's mouth!" thirteen-year-old John Potter proclaimed.

"Perfect!" Sirius grinned, walking over to his godson and slapping him on the back.

"What'd she do to your aunt?" Leo asked.

"Unfortunately, nothing," Rose Potter admitted with a faint smile as she wandered across the room and took a position next to Leo.

"The situation is actually quite serious," James sighed, stepping closer to Professor Dumbledore with Lily at his side. "We had previously thought that the Death Eaters weren't aware enough of Lily's background to know that she had family living in Surrey."

Lily nodded in agreement. "If the Death Eaters get their hands on the Dursleys, it could spell trouble for us."

"Yes, this is troubling news," Dumbledore agreed. "We also have troubling news here."

James flicked his eyes to the couch where Walburga's corpse was. "Not a simple suicide then?"

"I have no doubt that it is a legitimate suicide," Dumbledore said, "but there are other factors that we've discovered—specifically, an intruder that broke into the home and had a confrontation with Sirius's mother. I'm hoping that you can invoke some of your personal authority as deputy head auror and assume control of the investigation."

"Sirius is an auror, too," James said, rolling his eyes.

"Conflict of interest," Sirius told James magnanimously. "The Ministry doesn't like it when people investigate crimes against their loved ones. They get too emotionally involved and do things that they later regret. I have no choice but to recuse myself from this situation."

The oldest Potter daughter, Sidra, snorted from where she had taken a seat next to a window. "In your case, you'd congratulate the blighter and send him on his way."

"That's right, Sid," Sirius grinned, trying to make eye contact with his goddaughter.

Sid ignored Sirius and cracked open a copy of Witch's Weekly. The smile fell from Sirius's face and he glanced at James and Lily who merely shrugged at him.

"We need to discuss the situation here," Dumbledore said. "It would best be done privately. Other members of the Order are on their way. Sirius, do you know if there is a good room in this house where we can all sit down?"

"Perhaps the kitchen," Sirius suggested. "It's been a while since I stepped foot in here, so I can't be sure about anything."

"The kitchen will suffice, I think," Dumbledore said.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Why is Sid in such a bad mood?" Leo asked Rose as they hiked up the stairs so that Leo could show Rose the burned tapestry.

"She's still angry about the Chamber of Secrets," Rose replied. "We really did kind of humiliate her and her posse."

"It's been over two weeks," Leo said, "and they were asking for it, and we didn't even mean to embarrass them anyway. If they'd listened to us, maybe it would have been different."

"She's getting better at staying angrier longer," Rose declared. "The Weasley kid is really good at keeping her riled up." She glanced behind them to make sure neither Sid nor John was around. "Is the . . . you know . . . safe?"

"Yeah," Leo whispered.

They reached the appropriate landing and were soon standing in the room where the tapestry had once hung. Ash covered the floor, and the scent of smoke was strong. "Professor Dumbledore and the house elf say that someone broke into the house and lit the tapestry on fire," Leo explained. "They think that the person is now Kreacher's master."

"Really?" Rose said happily. "Why, that means that someone that isn't you or Sirius must be Lord Black!"

"We already knew that," Leo scoffed.

"Only sort of," Rose said.

"Whatever. We should find out who really is Lord Black. Is there any chance that you might have some . . . ah . . . insight?"

Rose sighed and looked into Leo's eyes. Determining that he really was desperate to know, she lightly took his hand and closed her eyes. Taking deep, calming breaths, she tried to imagine the burning of the tapestry. She imagined the smell of the smoke as it would have wafted through the room.

It was dark, and a shadowed figure moved through the room toward the tapestry. The figure raised one of its hands and stroked the tapestry. The figure stepped back and was suddenly wielding a wand. A fireball coalesced at the tip of the wand and was hurled toward the tapestry. The tapestry exploded in flame. And then, it was over.

Rose gasped and opened her eyes.

"Did you see something?" Leo asked excitedly.

Rose sighed. "Just the person setting the tapestry on fire."

"You couldn't see who it was?"

Rose shook her head, exhaustion evident in her eyes. "It's never that easy, Leo," she said softly.

"Let's find you somewhere to rest," Leo said tenderly, taking her by the arm.

27. Information for a Price

A/N: I'd like to express my thanks to gilgameshone for his counsel and beta reading for this chapter. I'd also like to express my appreciation for your reviews.

Chapter 26

By

Lord Silvere

Albus Dumbledore absently stroked his long, white beard while scratching at a piece of parchment with a quill, awaiting various members of the Order in the kitchen at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. At such short notice and so near the holidays, he knew a huge turnout was both unlikely and unnecessary. Albus didn't need a big turnout for this particular meeting, since he could communicate the salient points discussed with everyone who had been unable to make it.

"Kreacher!" Sirius barked, sniffing the air in annoyance, "Kreacher!"

"Will you stop that noise?" Lily asked, rolling her bright green eyes as she removed a pot of tea from the stove.

"I want to talk to that little fetcher," Sirius grumbled with furrowed brows, holding out his teacup for Lily to fill.

"Obviously, he's not going to come," Remus Lupin told Sirius. Placing his old, threadbare cloak on the back on a kitchen chair, he continued, "Wait a while before you try again."

Soon, noise outside of the kitchen signified more arrivals. A moment later, Sirius' fair-haired better half, Cassie Black, escorted representatives from the Weasley clan in into the kitchen. Molly Weasley, round-faced and flushed, entered the kitchen, escorted by the two youngest members of her ginger-haired children, Ron and Ginny, along with Hermione Granger. Arthur Weasley, his thin frame and hair foreshadowed by Ron, brought up the rear. Sidra Potter wandered in shortly thereafter, green eyes alert and impatient, attracted by the voices of her friends.

"We realize that things are a little cramped," Mrs. Weasley said to Lily. "We just didn't want to leave Ron, Ginny, and Hermione home alone."

"All of my children are here," Lily said, nodding as Mrs. Weasley joined her in preparing some more refreshments for the anticipated meeting. "It's getting so that I'm nervous to be home alone, even."

"I know," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Potter," Ginny said. "Do you know where Rose might be?"

"Upstairs, I think," Lily said to the Weasley girl. "She and Leo were doing a little exploring."

"Thank you," Ginny said, exiting the kitchen.

"Don't touch anything that looks suspicious!" Mrs. Weasley called after her. The Weasley matriarch turned toward Lily. "Some of these houses that have belonged to dark families give me the chills."

"I haven't really had a chance to explore," Lily replied, placing a number of teacups on a tray and filling them. She carried the tray over to the table and set it in front of seats now occupied by Sid, Ron, and Hermione.

"Apparently, some mysterious intruder came to the house last night and had a little bit of a confrontation with Walburga Black," Sidra told Ron and Hermione. "The result is that Mrs. Black committed suicide not long after the intruder departed."

"You're sure that the intruder didn't actually kill her?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Moody's sure she was alive after the intruder left," Sid stated.

"She might have been placed under the Imperius curse," Hermione theorized, reflexively.

"We should look into that," Sid said distractedly.

Ron gulped down his tea, impatient to speak. "We actually need to ask one of two questions. Why would a visit from a mysterious intruder result in Mrs. Black deciding to commit suicide? Or, why would someone want to kill Mrs. Black?"

Discussion ceased when Alastor Moody appeared with Kingsley Shacklebolt and James Potter. Though retired, it was apparent that Moody had been consulting with the two active aurors over the corpse sitting still in one of the main rooms of the house.

"I believe we have enough people to get started," Professor Dumbledore announced, surveying everyone in the room. He glanced over toward Sidra, Hermione, and Ron. "Miss Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid that I need to close this meeting to everyone but bona fide members of the Order."

By the expression on her face, it was clear that Sidra was not pleased with this turn of events. However, it was Ron who spoke up. "We've been attending Order meetings regularly since September!"

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore agreed, "but you were never formally inducted into the Order. The events at Hogwarts surrounding the Chamber of Secrets required your presence as much for your own safety as for what valuable insight you could bring to the table."

"I see no reason to close meetings to them after they've attended them so often," Mrs. Weasley interjected. She looked over to Lily for support, but the Potter matriarch looked away uncomfortably.

Professor Dumbledore shrugged. "Perhaps we can consider the question at the end of the meeting and come to a more united conclusion. For now, I ask that you honor my request."

Rather huffily, Sidra stood and exited the room, followed by an outraged Ron and an apparently insulted Hermione.

As soon as the trio had gone, Moody began warding the room against eavesdroppers while Mrs. Weasley rounded on Professor Dumbledore. "Is this about the Chamber of Secrets incident?" she demanded.

"No, Molly. The Chamber of Secrets fiasco is merely a symptom of a larger issue that I feel we need to discuss. What happened in this house last night is also a symptom of that larger issue," Dumbledore declared quite calmly, looking at Molly over the rims of his spectacles.

Molly looked ready to retort, but Mr. Weasley interceded. "This sounds like it could be serious."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding faintly to Moody, who had finished warding the room before taking a seat. Briefly, Dumbledore explained everything he had learned about the incidents leading up to Walburga Black's suicide. Once he laid down the facts for everyone present, he began analyzing the information and inviting the Order to help him draw conclusions.

"For years, we have assumed that the field of potential subjects of the prophecy was quite narrow. The requirements seemed very simple—our in-depth analysis of the prophecy strongly suggested that the one with the power to defeat Voldemort would have claim to the Lord Black title and that person would be tied to a 'Daughter of the Stars.' We have assumed that nobody living at the time the prophecy was delivered can possibly be Lord Black for a number of reasons. Standard, logical deduction led us to believe that the only two Lord Black candidates were Leo Black and Draco Malfoy. Fortunately, Mr. Malfoy's June birthday has put our fears about him inheriting the Black title to rest."

"Yes, we know, Albus," Moody said, rolling his eye. "And obviously, Leo Black couldn't help but fall in love with Sidra Potter, whose given name means 'of the stars.' In case you have not noticed, that is not going so well. For all her being overly willing to embrace her prophetic destiny, she has shown young Leo nothing but contempt. Leo hides behind Rose Potter's clairvoyant absurdities and does his level best to embrace a life of mediocrity."

"Ah . . . yes," Dumbledore said. "That about sums it up."

"There's nothing wrong with my son aspiring to mediocrity," Sirius declared.

"No one is saying otherwise," Remus said, smiling with faint amusement at his old friend.

"Yes, well, I wanted to bring up Rose's 'clairvoyant absurdities,'" Dumbledore announced. "Though she stubbornly maintains that she is a seer of the past, present, and future, she has traditionally limited her declarations of fact to minor, everyday things—for instance, correctly identifying people who steal from cookie jars."

"She's very logically minded," James Potter said, cutting in. "Deducing the truth behind small, everyday mysteries isn't difficult for her. I think she mostly maintains her clairvoyant persona to get under Sidra's skin and draw attention to herself."

Professor Dumbledore steepled his hands and shrugged. "I also believed the same thing about Rose. She is very clever and very logical. Growing up in Sidra's shadow has been very difficult, I am sure. It would be understandable for her to desire to compete or draw attention to herself. However, she did correctly reveal, as it were, that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was dead and had been dead for many years. Had we listened to her, we might have focused our efforts more wisely and discovered Professor Pettigrew's treachery sooner."

There was a slightly oppressive silence, which Kingsley Shacklebolt broke. "What precisely does Rose Potter's accurate Chamber of Secrets prediction have to do with the current situation?"

A small sigh escaped from Professor Dumbledore's lips. He suddenly looked very tired. "During Rose Potter's first year at Hogwarts, she declared that neither Leo Black, nor Sidra Potter by extension, were subjects of the prophecy we have held dear to our hearts. Some of us viewed it as a jealous sister's attempt to steal the limelight from Sidra. Others believed it to be an attempt to console and comfort Leo Black who shuns the notoriety of being the one prophesied. The bottom line is that we have disregarded the possibility, as voiced by Rose, that Leo and Sidra are not subjects of the prophecy."

Kingsley looked around the room. The Potters and Blacks stared glumly at the table even as everyone else pointedly avoiding their eyes. "Err . . . so what you're going to say is that based on last night's events, you think Rose Potter might be correct about Leo not being the prophesied one?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying that we should disregard the possibility that Leo Black and Sidra Potter could be the prophesied ones, but I think we need to seriously reexamine our interpretation of the prophecy and look for other possible candidates."

"And perhaps someone should consult young Rose and see if she has any thoughts to share about the immediate situation," Moody commented quietly.

"I shall handle that personally," Professor Dumbledore told the group. "I think we have nearly covered everything. I just want to highlight a couple of things we need to do and make some assignments."

~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix hissed angrily as she examined Harry's stomach wound. Rather than improving through the night, the wound from the hair ornament had worsened, becoming severely infected. His other wounds from the flying debris had not healed nearly as much as they should have, either. That, combined with the fact that Harry was not responding to Bellatrix's attempts to communicate was troubling. "Get me a bowl of hot water," she yelled, addressing Kreacher, who was in the living room cleaning. The house elf had not expected to be set to grueling work in exchange for fleeing the questions at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Muttering angrily under his breath, Kreacher fetched a bowl, filled it with water from the kitchen sink, and with a snap set it to a near-boiling state. He walked to the bedroom and found his mistress standing over his master's bed.

"It took you long enough," Bellatrix growled, taking the bowl of hot water and setting it on the bedside table as she prepared to clean Harry's wound.

Kreacher watched silently as Bellatrix tended to Harry's wounds. Although the young witch clearly knew the basic principles behind medical treatment, she had never put them to practice on such a severely wounded patient. Eventually, Bellatrix finished treating and bandaging the main wound. She briefly attended to Harry's other injuries before forcing another round of potions down his throat.

"Kreacher," Bellatrix said, "what is the state of things at St. Mungo's?"

"Kreacher doesn't understand mistress's question," Kreacher replied, suddenly feeling a bit of confidence. The mistress did not know everything. She had to rely on Kreacher. Kreacher was an important house elf.

"What I mean is, can I take Harry here to St. Mungo's and expect that he will be safe while they treat him?" Bellatrix said.

"Kreacher still does not know what Mistress Belly means," Kreacher said.

Subconsciously, Bellatrix flexed her hands, almost balling them into fists. "What I want to know is whether or not I can take my husband to the hospital and be assured that he will be safe from harm."

"Why would someone hurt a hospital patient, Mistress?" the house elf inquired.

Bellatrix's violet eyes flared dangerously. "Forget it."

"Does Mistress Belly want me to return to Grimmauld Place?" Kreacher asked.

Bellatrix stalked from the room and into the bathroom, where she took out her wand and began casting glamour charms on herself. Kreacher followed and caught up with her just as her hair flattened itself and transformed into a pale shade of brown. "No, Kreacher will stay here," Bellatrix declared, mimicking the house elf's third person speech as she used magic to change her eyes from violet to a an even paler brown. "Mistress Bellatrix will go to Diagon Alley. Kreacher will monitor Master Harry's condition and go fetch Mistress Bellatrix if Master Harry so much as moves a muscle or misses a breath. Kreacher will also continue cleaning the flat."

"As mistress commands," Kreacher said, watching as Bellatrix's face aged into that of a seemingly motherly woman.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix enjoyed her visit to Gringotts far more than the goblins did. Although they had somehow concluded that Harry and Bellatrix had traveled through time, the goblins had still been hoping that they would never see the pair again—at least not for several more decades. Harry and Bellatrix were now billionaires thanks to the goblins' wise investment schemes, and the bank had enjoyed having the Black gold on hand, free of any worries that Harry or Bellatrix would withdraw, transfer, or otherwise invest the money on short notice.

After promising the goblins that she would spend the Black fortune anyway she wished, Bellatrix walked out of the bank, her purse filled with gold, bank drafts, Muggle credit cards, and numerous other tools by which she could move or use the Black money free of the need to ever set foot in Gringotts.

Christmas shoppers swarmed quietly throughout Diagon Alley. Despite the holiday season, gloomy clouds seemed to cling to each shopper. Nobody made eye contact with anybody else, instead glaring suspiciously behind one another's backs. Idly, Bellatrix wondered if disguising herself had been a complete waste of time. Nobody would have noticed her or distinguished her from anyone else in the crowd.

Bellatrix dodged into the apothecary and purchased nearly a thousand galleons worth of medical potions and random potion ingredients. Though clearly surprised by the exorbitant purchase, the apothecary clerk maintained a neutral demeanor with regard to propriety of the transaction. However, it seemed that he recognized her purpose in making the purchases. Quietly, he advised Bellatrix of a former mediwitch who frequented the Leaky Cauldron and gave medical advice based on 'hypothetical situations.'

Upon locating the former mediwitch, Bellatrix nearly turned back, for Madame Madidus was clearly a habitual drunk. However, the realization that there were precious few options drove Bellatrix to sit down across from Madame Madidus in a booth. Empty mugs and classes littered the table coated in a sometimes sticky, sometimes greasy layer.

"I didn't drink all this," Madidus told Bellatrix, burping loudly as she gestured to the empty glasses.

"Of course not," Bellatrix said, masking her disgust. It was surprisingly easy to do so. The face Bellatrix had formed for her disguise seemed incapable of displaying any negative emotion.

"What can I do for you, dearie?" Madame Madidus asked, eying Bellatrix's purse greedily.

Bellatrix glanced around to make sure that nobody was listening or watching them too closely. "I have been informed that you are a former mediwitch and might be able to share some useful opinions."

"That I am," Madame Madidus said. "Tell me of a hypothetical situation, put some money on the table, and I will theorize about how one might medically proceed."

Briefly, Bellatrix hypothesized that someone may have been stabbed in the stomach by a dark artifact. She also hypothesized that said person was now in a coma, but had been given basic first aid. She then followed up her statement of the hypothetical situation by placing a handful of galleons on the table.

Madame Madidus grabbed the galleons and pocketed them quickly before leaning forward toward Bellatrix. "Now tell me, hypothetically, was this dark artifact designed as a weapon? I mean, is it supposed to stab people for the purpose of killing them?"

"No," Bellatrix said, "but it seems to use blood to do what it does."

"Hypothetically, dearie. I need plausible deniability in the event that someone comes looking for someone injured in a specific manner."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Yes, hypothetically, if this artifact existed it wouldn't be a weapon. Hypothetically, if it were to end up stabbing someone, it would be a freak accident," Bellatrix iterated.

"Right," said Madame Madidus. "The thing with that type of injury is that the dark artifact will have drawn energy from the victim's blood to perform the magic. That won't be helpful in the recovery process, especially if the artifact is prone to doing spells that require a lot of magic."

Bellatrix winced internally. It was a good thing that Harry seemed to be a very powerful wizard.

"The other thing is that dark magic artifacts can give people a dark magic infection of sorts," the drunk mediwitch informed Bellatrix.

"I've never heard of that," Bellatrix said disbelievingly.

Madam Madidus shrugged and signaled the barkeep for a mug of ale. "It is what it is. Someone injured in such a way as you have hypothetically described will suffer magical exhaustion for being drained to perform whatever magic the artifact attempted. They will probably get an infection from the physical injury. They will probably get a magical infection from the uncontrolled dark magic. Furthermore, the pure energy required to overcome the injury and resulting infections will also be draining. This person will probably get worse before they get better. In all honesty, even under the care of a professional hospital, the person has a fifty percent chance of dying."

Bellatrix felt the blood drain from her face. "I don't think I can take him to a hospital," she mumbled dejectedly.

"If he's a non-entity, taking him to a hospital can't hurt," Madame Madidus said sympathetically.

"He's not a non-entity," Bellatrix replied vaguely, wanting to know more about the stay-at-home option all while wondering whether she could risk taking Harry to the hospital. It was risky. Glamour charms would be useless, and all it took was for someone to observe within earshot of the wrong person that Harry looked like their old potions professor.

Madame Madidus nodded. "You'd better keep him away from St. Mungo's then. It's too easy for people of either persuasion to get in there and target their enemies. Here's what you do."

Madame Madidus then outlined a regimen for Bellatrix to follow in caring for the hypothetical patient. Bellatrix retrieved a small piece of parchment from her bag and took careful notes, grateful for the systematic directions given to her.

Madidus eventually finished. "You should probably stop at the bookstore and buy yourself some books," she advised. "Hypothetically, you could be sitting by this patient's bedside for a long while."

"Hypothetically speaking," Bellatrix observed, tucking away her notes.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Kreacher was sure that his mistress would be pleased with his cleaning work when she arrived home, but was disappointed when Bellatrix walked through the door carrying several shopping bags, upending all but one atop the living floor. From the upended bags poured Christmas decorations of all sorts along with several strands of Christmas lights—and last, but not least, a live Christmas tree desperately in need of watering, as evinced by all the dry pine needles that fell off the branches as the tree hit the floor.

"Try to make the place look festive," Bellatrix mumbled, walking toward Harry's bedroom with the other shopping bag.

Kreacher stared at the pile of decorations in astonishment. In the background, he heard the door to Master Harry's bedroom shut quietly. "Kreacher deck the halls," Kreacher cursed, grabbing a string of lights.

Near sundown, the house elf finally finished decorating. Kreacher then proceeded to the kitchen to prepare dinner for his mistress and then popped into Harry's bedroom to deliver the meal. Bellatrix lay drowsing on top of the bed cover, a thick tome resting on her chest. The scent of dinner woke her and she looked at Kreacher blearily.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said.

"Mistress Belly is too kind, thanking her elf," Kreacher said without obvious sarcasm, setting down the dinner on a table next to several measured doses of healing potions. "Does Mistress have any other demands?"

"Go ahead and return to Grimmauld Place or to wherever Sirius is," Bellatrix yawned. "Feel free to do whatever they request, but don't give them information about me. If they try to press you on information, disappear and ignore them for a little while.

"As mistress commands," Kreacher said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"It doesn't really work that way, Headmaster," Rose Potter said diplomatically. She leaned forward as her hazel eyes peered earnestly into Professor Dumbledore's blue ones. Subconsciously, she reached back and smoothed her dark brown hair. "I need to know facts. I need to be invested emotionally. The pump must be primed."

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said, frowning faintly and breaking the unwelcome eye contact with the middle Potter child. "You have declared that Leo Black is not the subject of the prophecy. Did you not see who it was that was the true subject of the prophecy?"

"No, I did not," Rose said, leaning back into the cushions of an armchair located in James Potter's personal study. Professor Dumbledore had commandeered the room for the interview during a visit to the Potter residence.

"Would you mind telling me what precisely you saw?" Dumbledore asked.

Rose shrugged remorsefully. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel that it would be appropriate."

Dumbledore looked disapprovingly at Rose over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "Would you care to explain why not?"

Rose met Professor Dumbledore's gaze directly. "What I saw was seen on behalf of Leo."

"Perhaps I could explain the situation and then you could offer me insight," Dumbledore suggested, beginning to feel a little bit frustrated.

"Of course," Rose said, spreading her hands to signify that she was open to helping the aged headmaster with his situation.

"My priority is to gain understanding of who the subjects of the prophecy are. My secondary objective is to gain knowledge about the person that confronted Walburga Black. It is my own personal opinion that there could be a connection between the prophecy subjects and the mysterious intruder," Dumbledore explained. "Especially if it turns out that your statement that Leo is not the prophecy subject is true."

"You do realize that I have never heard the prophecy in its entirety," Rose reminded Professor Dumbledore. "I think I would have to hear it before offering an authoritative opinion on it."

Dumbledore was beginning to feel that this interview with Rose had been a bad idea, but he was desperate for any advantage or supernaturally gained fact she might offer him. Reluctantly, Dumbledore told her the prophecy on condition that she shared it with no one else.

"The One with the Power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall come . . . he who is marked the equal of the Dark Lord . . . he who is tied to the Daughter of the Stars and has altered her path in the heavens . . . from the seat of the Blacks he will haunt the Dark Lord's paths and have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and One must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall come."

Professor Dumbledore studied Rose intently. "Are you feeling anything?"

Rose shrugged. "Why did you assume that it had to be Leo?"

Briefly, Dumbledore explained that circumstances had led him to conclude that the prophesied one was a Black heir that was not alive at the time of the prophecy.

"When did the previous Lord Black die?" Rose asked.

"Orion Black passed away approximately twenty years ago," Dumbledore explained.

"And who inherited?" Rose asked.

"Apparently, nobody."

"Who should have inherited?"

"Either Orion's wife or Sirius or possibly even Cygnus Black," Dumbledore replied, "but they did not. Gringotts claimed that there were associated difficulties with settling the Black estate and naming a new head of the house. Since then, the goblins have proven reticent about the situation and have managed to shield themselves from inquiry despite the best efforts of those concerned."

"I see," Rose said.

"You do realize that I have examined all the details of this situation. I have spent years examining all of the facts." Dumbledore told Rose. "I simply want to know if your seer talent can give me any special insights in addition to what I know."

"Very well," said Rose, closing her eyes. She was slightly miffed at the headmaster. She made a token effort to summon a vision of Lord Black, but as she expected, nothing came. Rose needed more details, more investment to launch a vision. Still, logic suggested possible answers to Dumbledore's queries. Rose opened her eyes and looked at her headmaster. "Have you considered that the prophecy does not preclude people who were alive when it was given? It could have referred to someone who was on holiday or otherwise away from the situation or outside of the Order."

"Is that a vision, or are you being logical?" Dumbledore asked, internally exasperated.

"Is there anything wrong with logic?" Rose retorted almost rhetorically.

"No," Dumbledore admitted. "However, I have already considered that option. I could find no candidates that lived before the prophecy was given that are feasible or not otherwise disqualified by death or legitimate disinheritance."

Rose sighed. "Well, I'm afraid that this summer has proved that Draco Malfoy isn't the Black heir. I can further certify that Leo is not the Black heir. Logic dictates that you must again look at the possible Black heirs from before the prophecy was given. The wording of the prophecy itself suggests that the prophesied one had already been marked an equal of the dark lord as of the date the prophecy was delivered."

"My examination of potential Black heirs was very thorough," Professor Dumbledore informed Rose dismissively. "Further, my study of the language and meaning of prophecies outstrips your own study. I'm afraid that logic dictates that I must disregard your claim that Leo is not the subject of the prophecy and leave open that possibility."

Rose stood up stiffly. "In that case, I must conclude that there is no further use to this interview." She strode across the room, opened the study door, exited the room, and slammed the door shut behind her.

~!~!~!~!~

Leo was lying on his bed and casually flipping through a Quidditch magazine when he heard his father shout the house elf's name.

"Kreacher!"

Assuming that the house elf had returned from one of his walkabouts, Leo set aside the magazine and made his way up to the ground floor of the Black residence in Godric's Hollow. He found his father, Sirius, confronting the house elf.

"What do you mean there is no reply?" Sirius demanded. "Did you even deliver the letter?"

"Kreacher delivered the letter directly," Kreacher declared, glaring at Sirius balefully.

"And was the letter read?" Sirius demanded.

"Kreacher does not know," Kreacher said. He raised his hand into the air.

"Stop!" Sirius said, pointing a warning finger at the elf. "I'm not asking questions about your mysterious master. I'm asking questions about the letter. Now, go and help Cassie in the kitchen."

Kreacher made his way toward the kitchen, muttering angrily to himself.

"What's up, Dad?" Leo asked.

Sirius threw up his hands and walked into the living room. Leo followed his father and sprawled onto the couch while Sirius grabbed the current issue of the Daily Prophet.

"The Order has been trying to communicate with the mysterious intruder through correspondence delivered by Kreacher," Sirius grouchily explained to his son. "We've sent several letters but have received no reply."

Leo scratched his chin and grinned mischievously as he watched Sirius slump into a rocking chair. "What do you say in the letters? 'Come play with us or else we won't come play with you?'"

"Very funny," Sirius replied.

"Well," said Leo, "what is the enticement for the mysterious intruder and master of Kreacher to contact you?"

"If the person is opposed to Voldemort, you would think that he or she would want to team up," Sirius explained.

"Maybe," said Leo. He sat there watching his father for several moments before deciding to find something more interesting. "I'm going to Rose's house," he announced.

Sirius glanced up from the newspaper and looked outside at the early evening sky. "Hurry straight there," he reminded Leo. "Take the floo to get home."

"No need," Leo declared, pulling out his wand. "I just got my apparition license. Remember?"

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Rose was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling when she heard a pop come from inside her clothes closet. Surprised, she raised her head to glance at the closet door as a knock sounded from inside of the closet. She grinned and set her head back down on the pillow. "I wasn't being serious when I suggested apparating into my closet," she called out.

The closet door opened to reveal Leo. "Yeah, well, I'm sick of having to stare down your father and dodge your mother," he said.

Rose smiled. "What happens if they discover you up here but don't remember you being invited into the house?"

Leo smirked. "We'll tell them that John let me in. He's always quick on the draw and good for corroboration in a tight spot. Besides, I'm keyed into the wards."

"It's probably just as well you came up here, anyway. The headmaster is downstairs talking with my parents," Rose said. She was silent for a little while as she continued to stare at the ceiling and ponder. Leo said nothing in reply, and finally, Rose opted to fill in the gaps. "He wanted me to have a vision and reveal the Black heir."

"Yeah, and it wasn't that easy, I know," Leo said, pulling out a chair from Rose's small desk. He set it next to the bed.

"Logically, the only solution I see is that whoever inherited from Orion must have inherited immediately after his death," Rose told Leo. "But that doesn't explain why they haven't come forward, been noticed, or been exposed since then."

"Whoever it was took out my grandmother," Leo offered.

"Yeah, but we don't necessarily know that the person who did that is the prophesied one," Rose rebutted. "Besides, Dumbledore still seems to think that you're the one. He doesn't believe my vision that you're not the Black heir, and I doubt he suspects you of offing your grannie."

"I heard that he and my father are trying to send letters to the mysterious master of Kreacher," Leo told Rose. "He must be keeping his options somewhat open."

"How's that going for the Order?"

"What? Sending the letters or keeping the options open?"

"Don't be dense," Rose sighed, sitting up and swinging her legs over so that she was sitting on her bed and facing Leo.

Leo grinned. "Kreacher delivers the letters, but no reply has been returned. It's driving my dad nuts. I asked him if they were actually giving this mysterious person good reason to reply, but he acted like I was being silly."

"Probably because he knows you're right," Rose mused, standing up and walking to the window and looking out onto the dusk-lit street below. "Your father has interesting ways of coping with failure and disappointment."

"Uh, right," said Leo, wrinkling his noise. "Anyway, maybe we could send a letter ourselves and offer a bribe."

Rose snickered. "'If you reply, we'll give you a Honeydukes gift certificate.'"

"'And a box of dungbombs,'" Leo finished, laughing heartily.

"No seriously, though," Rose said, suddenly becoming very sober.

"All right."

"If this person controls Kreacher, then he must be Lord Black," Rose theorized.

"Check."

"This person probably inherited the Black title and rights very soon after your grandfather died."

"Check."

"If opposed to Voldemort, this person could very well be the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets and killed the basilisk."

"Huh?" Leo grunted.

Rose quirked an eyebrow at Leo and walked over to the desk where she grabbed a piece of parchment. "Boiling down Dumbledore's statements about the Chamber, it's pretty clear that it was Lord Voldemort who opened the Chamber and killed Moaning Myrtle."

"Check," Leo nodded, even though he was not really following Rose's train of thought.

"The person not only had to know about the Chamber from prior knowledge, but he had to be equal in power to Voldemort in order to open the Chamber," Rose declared, getting somewhat excited as she found herself verbally working toward a solution.

"Uh, we opened the Chamber, too," Leo reminded Rose. "And where does being equal in power come in?"

"You're forgetting what Myrtle told us once we told her we already knew the basilisk was dead," Rose said. "She said this person opened it, but then later arranged for it to be easy to open without Slytherin's special powers." Then, remembering that Dumbledore had shared the complete prophecy with her in confidence, Rose added, "As for equal in power, forget I said it."

"All right," Leo said. "What does it matter?"

"The person might know about the diary," Rose said, opening a desk drawer and withdrawing a quill and bottle of ink. "If they had enough knowledge about the Chamber to seek it out, they could know about the diary."

Leo frowned. "That's a really long shot, Rose. If you're thinking about advertising to this person that we have the diary just for the reason of checking whether he was the one who also opened the Chamber and killed the basilisk, please remember that if Pettigrew or Voldemort or somebody else figures out that we have the diary, we're in deep trouble."

"That's why we'd have to be careful," Rose said lamely, suddenly realizing that her plan was flawed.

"Further," Leo reasoned, "the chances are that this mysterious person knows nothing about the Chamber. How will writing a letter to them about it be a bribe?"

Rose shook her head and paced around the room for a bit, looking rather unhappy. Abruptly, she stopped and her face brightened.

"You've got it figured out, haven't you?" Leo said resignedly.

"Yes," Rose said. "We can send an extremely cryptic letter. If they know about the diary, or are even wondering about the diary, they will probably pick it out of what we say."

"And if they know nothing about the diary or the letter is too cryptic?"

Rose grinned widely. "The cryptic nature of the letter will rouse their curiosity and draw them out from hiding!"

"Maybe," Leo said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

A sheen of sweat shined on Bellatrix's face as she leaned over a table in her library-laboratory loft and made a number of small notations on a sheet of parchment. She picked up her wand and proceeded to the center of the room. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before opening them again. She drew her wand in a flash of motion.

"Strike, strike, shield, step left, strike, strike, strike, step right, shield," she said tersely as she sped through the exercise, motioning with her wand as if actually casting spells and dueling another combatant.

Frowning, she returned to the table and examined her notes on the parchment. She made another set of notations and returned to the center of the room.

"Strike, strike, step left, strike, major strike, step right, strike, strike, strike, step right, strike," she intoned, moving quickly and smoothly enough to make it look as though she was dancing. She repeated the pattern again, inverting the steps. After that, she started from the beginning repeating the pattern and its inversion nearly a dozen times before stopping to take a breath.

Feeling rather satisfied with the pattern and inversion, Bellatrix returned to the parchment on her worktable and used a quill to circle the set of directions on the parchment. She folded the parchment in half and slipped it into her dueling manual between the pages that detailed drills for standing ground in a duel. The drills in the book were good and Bellatrix had already mastered them, but she had long ago concluded that she needed to introduce her own patterns or else run the risk of having an opponent recognize the strategies from the well-known book—at least the book that had been well-known over twenty years ago.

She had just flipped to the drills for forcing an opponent back and gaining ground when a popping noise announced the arrival of Kreacher. Bellatrix glanced at the house elf and quickly saw that he was holding a parchment envelope in his hands.

"Not twice in the same day," she growled.

"Kreacher received the letter from someone else," the house elf announced. "Not Master Sirius."

"That makes it so much better," Bellatrix said sarcastically, accepting the letter from the house elf. She performed a number of charms to ascertain that nothing was amiss with the parchment envelope before opening it.

Inside, Bellatrix found a number of clippings from the Daily Prophet. She pushed aside her dueling manual and laid the clippings on the table, organizing them chronologically as she read them, one by one. Ostensibly, the articles reported on a series of unfortunate events that had occurred at Hogwarts between the start of term and the beginning of the Christmas holiday. Howbeit, the articles were rather short on details about the events and rather heavy on political rhetoric, apparently engineered by Minister Prewitt. The first article did not even describe the crime that had supposedly taken place to ignite the outrage.

"We will take any steps necessary to get to the bottom of this matter," Minister Prewitt was quoted as saying. "Director Crouch and I shall personally lead the investigation. Truth serums will be administered to each and every student. Not only will we root out the culprit, but we will root out anyone who has sympathies toward the dark lord."

Another article went so far as to admit that students had been attacked by a person or creature unknown, but implied that Minister Prewitt and his trusty aurors had personally discovered the occurrence of the attacks through their dutiful actions—almost as if students and teachers would not have known the crimes had occurred without the Ministry discovering them.

Thanks to the diligence of the aurors, the article claimed, it appeared that no students had died, though someone purporting to be the Heir of Slytherin had terrorized the school, injured students, and committed acts of extreme vandalism.

By the fourth article, Bellatrix realized that the Chamber of Secrets had apparently been opened. She grinned slyly as she contemplated how Voldemort must have felt when he or whomever he sent had discovered that the basilisk was already dead.

Eventually, Bellatrix got to the final article. It was very short and briefly informed readers that Professor Dumbledore and his associates had resolved the situation. At the bottom of the stack of newspaper clippings was a short note.

Peter Pettigrew was exposed as being a Death Eater. He escaped, but he lost something in the process.

Bellatrix frowned thoughtfully, staring at the note. So what? Bellatrix mused.

~!~!~!~!

Rose shook her head and reached back to tuck a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear as she waited with her siblings and Leo for her father and Sirius to finish getting ready to take them to Diagon Alley for a little Christmas Eve outing, though it wasn't quite "eve" as yet. Rose, Leo, Sidra, and John were standing in the hallway of the Black home while their respective fathers were saying goodbye to their wives and receiving last minute shopping requests for dinner.

"Go away, elf!" Sidra barked, addressing Kreacher.

Kreacher had been staring intently at Rose and Leo, but turned his attention to Sidra. Instead of going away, he merely leered at her.

"Maybe if you told him to go away, he'd go," Rose suggested quietly as John, with his messy black hair, laughed at the exchange between his older sister and the crazy house elf.

"It wouldn't do any good," Leo whispered, looking at Rose, but glancing at the elf from the corner of his eyes. "He's been doing it since he got back from delivering our letter. Trust me, it is worse when you know he is watching you but you cannot see him anywhere."

Rose gave the house elf an appraising look. "Good thing this mysterious person isn't hostile to any of us, or we would all be dead by now. Do you think Kreacher has been assigned to watch us?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Leo said.

"All right! Let's get going!" Sirius called. "I think we can double-apparate—to the Leaky Cauldron, I think."

"Come apparate with me, John," James said.

Rose grabbed Leo's arm before her father could assign someone else to double apparate with her. They were soon on their way and had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. James issued strict instructions that no one was to go anywhere without a buddy and that under no circumstances was anybody to step foot in Knockturn Alley.

Leo and Rose, already having anticipated these instructions scampered from the Leaky Cauldron and separated themselves from the rest of the group, losing anyone who might have wanted to go to the same stores with them. After a little bit, they doubled back to the Leaky Cauldron and sat down after Rose had ordered a hot cider and Leo had ordered a butterbeer from Tom.

"One of these days, I'll convert you to butterbeer," Leo declared, gazing at Rose with his warm, brown eyes.

"Probably not," Rose said, smiling broadly. "Where do you want to stop after this?"

"The quidditch shop, of course," Leo said. "You?"

"Used bookshop," Rose indicated. "I overheard my dad tell my mum that some of the families running out of money are selling their older books. I'd like to sort through and see if we can find anything that mentions the House of Black."

"Sounds thrilling," Leo commented drily.

"We can make it our last stop," Rose indicated. "Where else did you want to go?"

Before Leo could respond, they were interrupted by a girl who approached their table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Rose!" the girl exclaimed, "I didn't expect to see you here. How is your holiday going?"

"Who are you?" Leo demanded as the mysterious girl signaled the barkeep for a butterbeer.

"I'm a fellow Hogwarts student," the girl said innocently.

Squinting, Rose studied the girl intently. Her straight, blond hair was slightly longer than shoulder length, and her skin was well tanned. Blue eyes topped a rather ordinary oval face. "What year are you in?" Rose asked once she had ascertained that she did not recognize the girl at all.

The girl smirked as Tom the barkeep set another butterbeer down on the table. "Sixth year," she answered.

"We're sixth years!" Rose retorted. "I think I would remember you. What house are you in in?"

"Slytherin," the girl said, smiling rather oddly.

"You're lying!" Leo declared.

"Only sort of," the girl admitted.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Rose inquired.

The girl smiled. "Call me . . . Jane."

"All right, Jane," Leo said. "What do you want?"

"Actually," Jane replied, "the question has more to do with what you want." She pulled from inside her coat a parchment envelope, which she tossed on the table.

Slowly, Rose reached out and opened the familiar envelope. Inside it were the Daily Prophet clippings she had sent to the mysterious intruder via Kreacher. She looked across the table at Jane. "Before we speak, we need you to confirm that you're the one who entered the Chamber of Secrets and killed the monster inside," Rose said, sounding very business-like. Leo was impressed.

Jane studied Rose, her face impassionate. "All right," Jane said. "In a matter of speaking, I entered the Chamber and killed the basilisk."

"Prove it," Rose retorted.

"Why would I claim that I did it if I did not do it?" Jane asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Because you want what was stolen from Pettigrew," Leo interjected. "We don't deal unless you can prove you're the one who killed the monster by telling us the precise method by which you did the deed."

Jane looked rather smug. "You yourselves have no way of knowing how the basilisk was killed, seeing as I incinerated its corpse."

Rose and Leo looked at each other and nodded.

"Now, it's your turn," Jane said. "Tell me what it is you are trying to sell."

Rose glanced around the pub to make sure no one in particular was listening to the conversation. She leaned forward. "We have the diary that Pettigrew used to open the Chamber," she whispered. "Did you know of its existence?"

Jane looked rather surprised. "I have heard of its existence," she admitted, reaching for her butterbeer and taking a sip. "Are you here to sell it to me?"

"We're open to some sort of bargain," Rose told Jane. "Specifically, we're in the market for information. We need to know more about the House of Black and about Lord Black especially."

Jane's face became rather dispassionate, and she set down her butterbeer without taking another sip. "I would prefer to trade gold for the diary. Ten thousand galleons."

Leo's eyes bugged out, but Rose was not about to trade her leverage against the mysterious mistress of the Black house elf for gold. "Information," she said firmly, "is our price. And lots of it."

"Twenty-five thousand galleons," Jane countered.

Rose shook her head as Leo gaped, his jaw hanging open.

"Fifty thousand galleons, final offer," Jane said.

"The identity, information, and an introduction to Lord Black is our price, minimum," Rose replied.

This did not make Jane very happy, but she pressed on. "What makes you think I'm not Lord Black?"

Rose laughed. "You're no wizard. Besides, you've dodged the specific details of the basilisk killing rather nimbly. You were there when the basilisk died, and you incinerated its corpse, but you did not open the Chamber, and you did not kill it. Moaning Myrtle was very sure that a wizard was involved. I assume he was Lord Black."

Jane sighed, both impressed and annoyed by Rose's insight, then removed a small timepiece from her pocket and glanced it. "I'm afraid that it is time for me to depart," she announced. "Perhaps we will meet again." She stood and made to leave the table, but stopped and turned back to speak quietly some parting words. "Keep the diary safe. There is essentially nothing the dark lord would not do to recover it." With that, she departed the pub by way of the back entrance to Diagon Alley.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Severus Snape felt Narcissa Malfoy squeeze his arm while Lord Voldemort quietly paced back and forth in the upper assembly room of the reconstructed and heavily warded Malfoy Manor. Nearly a dozen Death Eaters stood in a loose circular formation around the room's perimeter. Each Death Eater wore the customary mask and hood.

The custom of disguising each Death Eater from another was as much for inspiring the mysterious aura that Voldemort desired among his followers as it was for protecting the identity of each Death Eater. Minister Prewitt's methods were extreme. The capture and interrogation of a single Death Eater could and had resulted in the violent decimation of Death Eater ranks and Death Eater families.

The Dark Lord's careful policy of keeping Death Eater identities secret had generally frustrated Snape's efforts on behalf of the Order. Particularly, Snape had neither been able to forewarn Professor Dumbledore that Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater, nor that Voldemort had given Pettigrew a special assignment to carry out at Hogwarts in the recent months.

Snape knew that Pettigrew had made a serious mistake and had not completed the primary objective of his assignment. In that instance, perhaps the Order had benefited from Snape being in the dark. Had Snape been informed, Pettigrew might have succeeded because Voldemort would have, at minimum, required Snape to pass reports of Pettigrew's progress to the Dark Lord. Miraculously, Voldemort had not realized, based on reports in the Daily Prophet about events at Hogwarts, that Pettigrew was failing miserably. Now that Pettigrew had been exposed as being a Death Eater and was missing, Voldemort was attempting to curtail the damage.

"I want Peter Pettigrew captured alive," Lord Voldemort told his assembled followers, pacing in their midst as if he was a predator stalking its prey—as if perhaps one of them actually knew Pettigrew's location but had not disclosed it. "There is no other priority that supersedes that of capturing Pettigrew and bringing him to me."

"Yes, milord," his various followers intoned, blatantly disguising their voices, speaking loudly enough to be heard, but quietly enough not to attract the Dark Lord's attention.

Voldemort seemed to accept their responses and continued to pace. Suddenly, he whirled and faced one of the cloaked figures. "What does the Ministry know about the death of the Walburga Black?" Voldemort demanded.

"Little, milord," the Death Eater gasped. "An intruder confronted her in her home after burning the infamous Black family tapestry. Madame Black committed suicide shortly after the intruder left, milord."

At the utterance of these tidbits concerning Walburga Black's death, Snape felt Narcissa stiffen. He was surprised at this because she would have already known about the death of her aunt and that the Ministry was classifying it as a suicide. Curious as he was, Snape could not afford to lose his focus on the matter at hand. Perhaps he could subtly probe Narcissa for information later.

"Has the Ministry no suspects?" Voldemort asked.

"None, milord."

Voldemort turned to face Snape. "Do you have any . . . insight?"

Snape knew that Voldemort was really asking whether the Order had made any discoveries but actually expected Snape to reply as if he also had information about the Ministry. The Dark Lord used this strategy to encourage his followers to be diligent lest they be found negligent in their efforts. The strategy also ensured that if the Ministry captured and interrogated anyone who had heard the report, the spy who had penetrated the more exclusive organization would not be exposed or even specifically identified.

"There is much confusion, milord," Snape said to Voldemort. "It has been theorized that Madame Black was slain by one of your followers." The second sentence was a risk. While Voldemort would appreciate knowing of the Order's theory, the other Death Eaters would not appreciate Severus for sowing yet another seed of distrust.

"That is interesting," Voldemort said, turning back to the original informant. "Could it have been a Death Eater who killed Mrs. Black?"

"I do not know, milord," the Death Eater replied, suddenly sounding very nervous.

Snape would have been scared if he were the informant. The Dark Lord had multiple Ministry spies. The Dark Lord could have already known that Severus would imply that a fellow Death Eater had killed Walburga Black. The Dark Lord could be intimating that the informant himself had killed Walburga.

Voldemort deigned to hold his audience in suspense for a few moments. Eventually, he moved on, causing those in the circle to let out quiet sighs of relief. "It so happens that Madame Black's death is very inconvenient," Voldemort informed his Death Eaters. He focused on the Ministry spy. "Inform me when the Ministry investigation moves away from the Grimmauld house."

"I will," the informant breathed.

"I have nothing more to say to you," Voldemort told the group. "You may all now depart, but you two will stay," he said, pointing to Snape and Narcissa.

Dread welled up from Snape's chest, but he shoved it down as he watched his fellow Death Eaters depart from Malfoy Manor, leaving him and Narcissa alone with Lord Voldemort. Aside from the usual double-agent situation, Snape had done nothing that would rouse Voldemort's ire, and it was unlikely that Snape had been exposed. Dumbledore was very careful about that. Perhaps the Dark Lord had observed Narcissa's shocked reaction to the details of her aunt's death. Eventually, save for any house elves, the Dark Lord, Snape, and Narcissa were the only living souls in the Manor.

"Unmask yourselves," Voldemort commanded.

Snape and Narcissa promptly removed their masks as Voldemort glided to an ornate chair. As he did so, the light in the room increased, causing Snape and Narcissa to wince as the increased light hit their eyes, which had acclimatized to the darkness in the room during the meeting.

Once their eyes had adjusted to the light, Snape and Narcissa were confronted with Voldemort's appearance. The Dark Lord's face was hideously scarred—a consequence of a battle once fought against him from within the very room in which he now sat so comfortably. Snape privately theorized that the Dark Lord's purpose in making Malfoy Manor his usual meeting location was to gloat in his victory. After the dust settled, Voldemort had been maimed, but Cygnus Black and Romulus Malfoy were dead. Even Ashworth had eventually been killed.

Though Minister Prewitt had vigorously pursued the effort against Voldemort, he had only truly been able to strike and bloody the Death Eaters themselves. Voldemort had not had reason to feel personally threatened, as the Blacks patriarchs had once made him feel, for a long while. Albus Dumbledore did not seem inclined to seek Voldemort out, and as years passed, the Dark Lord lost faith in the validity of the prophecy that in the vaguest terms suggested another Black might rise and take up the sword of Orion and Cygnus.

"Tell me, Narcissa, what news does your son send? Has any sign of Pettigrew been discovered?"

"N-no, milord," Narcissa replied, clearly on the verge of losing her composure.

Snape watched the exchange, a neutral expression on his face despite emotional turmoil deep inside. It was in fact Lucius Malfoy, accompanied by his son Draco, who Voldemort had sent in advance to trail Pettigrew. Voldemort knew that Narcissa had ceased caring for Lucius long ago, and so he inquired after Draco, reminding Narcissa that he held Draco's life in his hands. It also served to remind Snape that failures on his part would not bode well for Narcissa's beloved son.

Voldemort watched them in silence for several moments before eventually issuing a round of instructions to Snape and Narcissa. The instructions were not new. They were repeats of past directions. He then departed.

As soon as the Dark Lord was gone, Narcissa burst into tears. Quietly, Snape led her to a chair—not the one Voldemort had sat in. Snape watched her, not sure what to say. He moved toward a couch and sat down, leaning forward to signify that he was ready to listen to anything she wanted to say. He knew that Professor Dumbledore would want to know why she had stiffened when hearing the details of Madame Black's death. It could be important.

"You have been so kind, Severus," Narcissa said as her sobs subsided. "I'm sorry about all of this."

Snape nodded. "I am always prepared to help you wherever I can," he said.

"I know," Narcissa said, "and I am grateful. It is so hard to having him constantly hang my son's life on everything. I don't know how you can keep your emotions in check so well when he's around. I wish I was that strong."

Here, the road forked. Snape could ask what had upset her about her aunt's death or he could continue to console her. Loyalty to Dumbledore and the thought that Dumbledore's success would make a better world for Narcissa prompted Snape to question, rather than console her.

"What was it . . . I mean, you seemed especially surprised when that wizard talked about your aunt's death," Snape said.

"It was nothing," Narcissa said, beginning to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"It must have been something," Snape pressed.

A small smile showed on Narcissa's face. "It was just a memory, Severus. A specter from past summoned by the thought of the Black family tapestry burning."

"A ghost come to haunt you?"

"Not really, seeing as it's only a memory," Narcissa said absently. She thought about it a little more and then laughed softly. "That ghost would exhaust its malice on the Dark Lord before coming after me, I should think. It's nothing to worry about, Severus. Let's talk about something else."

~!~!~

28. Holiday Gatherings

A/N: Invaluable support was offered by my beta reader, Gilgameshone, who turned this chapter around not once, but twice in a matter days. He could have taken a lot longer, and I probably would have waited, which would have left you all hanging even longer. ;)

Chapter 27

By

Lord Silvere

A watery echo attracted Harry's attention and washed lightly against his mind before receding. Wrapped in the warm embrace of sleep, Harry dismissed it summarily—until it returned. Harry became increasingly conscious of a muffled voice, speaking indistinguishable words. However, the voice's timbre was dangerously familiar. The speaker was Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, and from his tone, it seemed he was . . . annoyed. Perhaps even angry.

An old habit led Harry to focus on Voldemort, straining to hear more, to glean more details. Perhaps he could get inside information and give the Order an advantage in the next battle. Slowly, reflexively, Harry began to raise his mental shields as he prepared to probe Voldemort's mind, but then with a start, he remembered the time travel—first to the past then back to the present. Harry withdrew from the connection as quickly as he could.

He woke up with a gasp, finding himself in a moonlit bedroom, and suddenly aware of pain flaring in his gut, as well as a warm, soft weight lightly nuzzling his left side. Bella, Harry thought to himself while clearing the cobwebs in his head. Merlin have mercy,I married Bellatrix Black. Slowed by the pain throbbing and burning from his stomach wound, Harry sat upright. Squinting in the faint light of streetlamps and moonlight, spilling through the bedroom windows, Harry glanced to his right and found a clock on the bedside table. The clock face read three in the morning.

Pausing in dark silence broken only by the faint sounds of breathing, Harry glanced to his left to gaze at the woman he now called his wife. Bellatrix had tossed the blankets off herself and was lying flat on her back, soft curves scarcely concealed by skimpy pajamas, her long black tresses spilling across the pillow she and Harry had apparently shared. That outfit might have worked that night, he thought to himself with sardonic amusement, recalling Bella's attempt to seduce him on the night Tom Riddle murdered her father. She should have followed her instincts and gone for no outfit, he mused, recalling that conversation from literally decades prior. That would have definitely worked. Pulled from his musing by the bedroom's chill, Harry shivered. Contemplating how cold Bella appeared to be, Harry wondered whether she'd tossed off the blankets accidentally. Or maybe Slytherin women are just icy.

Filled with an urge to visit the restroom, Harry moved to get off the bed, but the pain in his gut again assailed him, augmented by a slight wave of dizziness. He looked around and found his wand on the bedside table next to his glasses. Fumbling to get his glasses on, Harry then grabbed his wand, and conjured a thin cane. He paused long enough to lay one of the blankets over Bellatrix before setting off on a very slow and agonizing trip to the bathroom.

Completing his trip, Harry inched his way to the living room, leaning on the wall and furniture for support, before collapsing at last on the loveseat. Harry noted a brightly lit Christmas tree, standing in one corner and illuminating various holiday decorations hung along the walls. The light from the Christmas tree also revealed a stack of Daily Prophets on the floor next to the couch.

Curious, Harry reached for the stack and picked up an issue. By the date on the masthead, the issue had been printed nearly six months before Harry and Bellatrix arrived in the future. Harry supposed that Bellatrix had been researching the magical world's situation. He reckoned that it was a good idea and that he should probably do the same. After all, he was the one who could determine whether this future was significantly different from his own future. But, as a wave of exhaustion swallowed him, Harry decided to shut his eyes and doze just a little bit before actually reading the newspaper.

~!~!~!~!

Eventually, daylight woke Harry up—that and the pain in his stomach along with the stiffness in his joints. Harry groaned aloud and tried to shift into some sort of position that would alleviate his discomfort.

"Yeah, you should have stayed in bed," announced Bellatrix's voice.

Harry looked up to discover Bellatrix approaching him from the kitchen, carrying a tray with several potion beakers. "I needed to go to the bathroom," Harry told her.

"Looks like you got lost," Bellatrix smirked, setting down the tray on the coffee table. She selected one of the potions and handed it to Harry. "Drink up."

"I was going to read some of those newspapers," Harry said, motioning down to the floor where he had spotted the newspapers the night before. He glanced around to discover that they were neither any longer on the floor, nor apparently anywhere else in the room. "Where did you put them?"

"I think you should let me worry about that stuff for now, Harry," Bellatrix said, watching Harry drink the potion, accepting the empty beaker before giving another to Harry to drink. "You are not exactly in prime condition to be doing anything, right now."

"I'm fine," Harry protested.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Harry, you have been in a coma for nearly a week. You are not fine."

Knowing he could not trump the coma card, Harry remained silent as he gratefully downed the rest of the potions given him by Bellatrix. It felt strangely nice to know that while he had been unconscious, she had been looking after him. It was as if she was family. In fact, she was, he again remembered. She was now his wife. I had to do it,Harry remembered as a murky memory of signing the marriage contract surfaced. I was as good as dead. He then realized he would have been dead without her ministrations.

"Normally, I would interrogate you about your knowledge of the future, or rather, the present," Bellatrix said, taking away the tray of empty potion containers. "However," she called from the kitchen, "it is Christmas day." She returned to the living room and walked toward the Christmas tree. "I thought we might exchange presents and other delicacies."

Harry winced. "I haven't been Christmas shopping," he said.

"You didn't need to do any shopping," Bellatrix smiled. "You gave me a million-galleon gift certificate, and I did the shopping for you."

"Please tell me that we still have money in our Gringotts account," Harry groaned.

"I didn't spend a million galleons," Bellatrix reassured him as she grabbed a stack of small, gift-wrapped parcels. "But even if I had, we'd still be very rich."

"And that's what's important," Harry said with a straight face.

"Right," replied Bellatrix, equally straight faced, as she sat next to Harry on the couch.

Hoping she too was joking about the primacy of wealth, Harry accepted one of the small presents from Bellatrix and looked curiously at the rest of the parcels in her lap.

"The rest are mine," Bellatrix said. "We can take you shopping for some clothes or anything else you fancy later."

"Okay," said Harry amicably, "let's see what I got you for Christmas."

The answer was jewelry, and lots of it. She may not have spent a million galleons, but Harry suspected she had only fallen short of that lofty number by a measly couple of knuts. Among the haul was a stunning diamond necklace and several sets of earrings with assorted jewels—emeralds being the most popular. Harry supposed it was the Slytherin inside of her, though she had gotten herself one pair of ruby earrings.

"Your turn," Bellatrix announced, looking expectantly at the small parcel in Harry's lap.

"Let me guess," said Harry. "Jewelry?"

Bellatrix beamed at him, her smile accentuated by the necklace and emerald earrings she had donned.

Harry unwrapped the present and discovered a small ring box. Inside, he found a rather hefty gold ring with some sort of black jewel.

"It's the Black family ring," Bellatrix announced proudly. "I had it refitted and upgraded." She plucked it from the box, took Harry's left hand, and slipped it onto him. "It's both your wedding ring and your family ring."

"It's very nice," Harry said, staring at it. He glanced over at the Malfoy family ring, given him by Romulus Malfoy, on his right hand. The Malfoy ring was far more ostentatious, but the Black family ring was clearly heavier and more impressive. He hoped the Black family ring could hold a feather-light charm, or else he'd feel like he was walking around with a brick all the time.

Harry looked back at Bellatrix. She was grinning broadly, and her violet eyes were sparkling. Harry did not think he had ever seen Bellatrix so happy, either as her younger or older self. Entranced, he stared at her, and she at him, for several moments.

"So, I guess that's it?" Harry said. "We've unwrapped all the presents."

"There are still . . . delicacies," Bellatrix said somewhat huskily, smiling broader still. "And maybe some dinner later."

Harry stared at her for several moments before realizing what she was implying. He remembered their first kiss, initiated by Bellatrix on the floor of the Room of Requirement. She had been angry with him, knocking him to the floor before kissing him forcefully, lingeringly, almost violently. Her lips had tasted of bitter disappointment, but also of passion and longing. Yet even then, behind the mask of indifference he forged mostly from occlumency, Harry had thought often of the kisses he and Bellatrix shared, wishing at times despite himself that he'd surrendered to her seductions.

And now, as she leaned into him gently with her shining eyes and blissful smile and soft curves, Harry surrendered to the pleasure of kissing his wife and leaned forward slowly towards Bellatrix. This kiss was briefer, and gentler, than that very first kiss, yet felt far more dizzying to Harry, filled now with longing informed by anticipation, rather than bitterness. Wow, he thought disbelievingly before quickly compartmentalizing, I must have lost a lot of blood to feel this light-headed. After a few more blissful moments, Bellatrix gingerly reclined Harry's back against the armrest. Ever so carefully, clearly conscious of his injuries and working not to hurt him, she adjusted her position and resumed kissing her husband. Thus passed Christmas morning for the newlyweds, until Harry finally grew fatigued, smiling as he drifted off into a restful nap.

~!~!~!~!~!

Rose and Leo shivered as they stood on the back stoop of the Black house in Godric's Hollow. The Potter and Black families had shared Christmas dinner, a tradition followed by both families for as long as Rose and Leo could remember. Their respective parents were the closest of friends, and always came together to share holiday traditions.

The two families were now working to clean up after dinner—a necessity the children had hoped to avoid now that the Blacks had a house elf. However, Kreacher had disappeared shortly after serving dinner and had not been back since. Rose and Leo had managed to escape to the back porch for a quick break from the cleaning.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Rose asked quietly, hugging herself for warmth.

"As far as I know," Leo replied, wishing he'd worn a jacket or sweater that he could remove and give to Rose. He was hunched over and had his hands stuffed into his pockets in his own effort to stay warm. "If I check, that nasty house elf will see me and report the diary's location to Lady Black. He's been spying on me ever since we met her in Diagon Alley."

"I doubt she'll be able to bust into your house and take the diary for herself," Rose said. "Your father has some really good wards up."

"But she can simply direct the house elf to steal it," Leo reminded Rose.

Rose sighed. "She can do that, and I don't doubt that she would. After all, she did offer us thousands of galleons for the diary."

"I think we need to do something with the diary soon," Leo told Rose in a serious tone of voice. "We're going to be returning to Hogwarts soon. It will be hard to bargain with this witch from inside of the school. There is also the thought that the longer we hold onto the diary, the tougher it will be to keep it safe. I am also worried about how much money she offered and the warning she gave us about Voldemort. Maybe we should just turn over the diary to Professor Dumbledore and explain everything. We may very well be in over our heads."

Rose did not immediately respond to Leo, choosing instead to stare at the night sky and mull over the options. She had known Leo long enough to realize that behind Leo's very soft and suggestive words was his very strong opinion that they should turn over the diary to Professor Dumbledore. Rose had to acknowledge that his concerns were valid, but the opportunity to discover Lord Black's identity and reveal him to the Order was a strong temptation.

"One more meeting," Rose said. "We can send Kreacher with a message to Lady Black, saying that we want to meet with her and discuss the diary. She knows what our minimum requirements are. If she agrees to a meeting, that means she is at least willing to talk. If she refuses a meeting or we are unable to reach a bargain with her, I promise that we'll hand over the diary to the headmaster."

Reluctantly, Leo nodded. "That's acceptable, I guess. There are just two things. Are you sure that this person is really Lady Black?"

"She must be," Rose replied. "She is Kreacher's mistress. There's also the fact that she apparently has easy access to fifty thousand galleons. What was your other concern?"

"Are we actually going to hand over the diary?"

"I don't know . . ." Rose said. Before she could finish, the backdoor opened and they were interrupted.

"Your mother wants you back in the kitchen," Sidra announced to Leo.

"Uh, okay," Leo said, avoiding eye contact with the eldest Potter child. He slipped past Sidra into the house.

Rose made to follow Leo in, but Sidra blocked her path by stepping out onto the back porch and shutting the door. The two sisters then engaged in a staring contest, trying their level best to intimidate each other. Though slightly shorter, Rose stared defiantly into Sidra's green eyes, wondering how someone that looked so much like her mother could possess such a different personality.

"Romancing the young Black heir?" Sidra bit out.

"He's not the Black heir," Rose retorted.

"Says you," Sidra hissed. "Since the moment you were born you've been trying to hog everybody's attention. But then Voldemort returned to Britain, raided Azkaban, and rounded up a new batch of followers. Everybody's attention was on Leo and me. You couldn't handle it, could you? That's why you suddenly had a vision and declared that Leo wasn't the prophesied one. What you really were saying was that I'm not the prophesied Daughter of the Stars."

"And what is so special about being the Daughter of the Stars?" Rose said, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with her older sister. "You just want the Black family money and prestige."

"No, you do!" Sidra screeched. "You've been all over Leo since the day you could walk. Anything he wanted, you got it for him, including a supposed vision that said he had nothing to worry about, that he would not have to face Voldemort as some sort of prophesied hero. I have news for you, Rose. When he turns seventeen, he will inherit the Black estate, and he will know that you were just kissing up to him. Then he will turn to me as he should have, and I will help him end this war—the same war his family started."

"So that's what you want?" Rose asked, her hazel eyes blazing with disdain. "You see Leo becoming the great hero—perhaps becoming the Minister of Magic like Cygnus Black? Leading Britain to victory against Voldemort? Of course, he'll need a loyal wife to help him—a Lady Black." Rose laughed. "You'll never be Lady Black. If you want to be the wife of some Minister of Magic, I suggest you go ahead and marry Ron Weasley. Or better yet, marry his brown-nosing brother, Percy. I'd like to see that—you brown nosing the king brown noser." The thought caused Rose to stop her tirade and stand there laughing. She laughed until a slap across her face left her ears ringing.

Startled by the slap and the resulting pain, Rose stared at her older sister before returning the favor. However, the younger Potter sister did not satisfy herself with a mere slap. She leaned forward and put her weight behind the blow, causing Sidra to fall off the porch from the force. Without a backwards glance at her sister, now lying in the snow, Rose then opened the door, stepped inside, and locked the door shut before proceeding upstairs to her room.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

A number of days later, Sidra was still fuming, though she was somewhat cheered by the presence of members of the Weasley clan at a small holiday gathering at the Potter home. Ron was splitting his attention between her and the kitchen counter, which had been lain with sweets and snacks of all kinds. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting in the living room with Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Ginny Weasley had gone upstairs to hang out with Rose.

"Ron is interested in joining the auror corps," Mrs. Weasley was telling James and Lily as Mr. Weasley looked on quietly. "My father can of course put in a good word with Director Crouch, but Ron will have to pass his potion NEWT, among others."

James nodded encouragingly, smiling at Ron. "You've got a good mind for strategy, Ron. I think you'd do well as an auror, though I can't imagine potions is very pleasant."

"You can say that again," Ron said, holding a half-eaten cookie. "Professor Snape is a real git."

James looked like he wanted to say something in agreement, but Lily's hand on his arm stopped him. Observing that, Sidra smirked, knowing just how much her father detested Severus Snape and just how much her mother supported the man. Personally, Sidra was of the opinion that Snape was merely silly. He prowls around sneering, fluttering his cape like a bat, Sidra thought. How can anybody take that man seriously?

The conversation about Mrs. Weasley's ambitions for Ron continued with scant participation by Ron despite Mr. Potter's attempts to include the teenager. However, Sidra paid even less attention. Something else had caught her eye—Leo Black had just sneaked down from upstairs and had slipped through the kitchen and down into the basement, avoiding the attention of nearly everyone in the house. His presence in the Potter home alone was not suspicious, but his sneaky behavior was. Sidra stood, mumbled a generic excuse, and left the living room.

~!~!~!~! ~!~!

"Are you coming or not?" Rose asked Ginny Weasley. Waiting for the youngest Weasley to answer, she rummaged through her chest of drawers, searching for the wand holster her father had given her for Christmas during the year she had participated in the Hogwarts dueling club.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that meeting with some mysterious person in an empty house in the middle of the night is dangerous?" Ginny asked.

"She's not all that mysterious," Rose defended. "We've met her once."

"Obviously she was in disguise—perhaps even using Polyjuice," Ginny pointed out.

Rose finally found the wand holster, withdrew it from the drawer, and strapped it to her arm. "No point in using Polyjuice to impersonate a complete stranger," Rose said.

Leo entered the room, carrying a box.

"Did you find them?" Rose asked.

"I think so," Leo said, setting the box down on Rose's bed and opening it. He pulled out a number of old robes. "These should do," he said. He picked out two robes and laid them across the bed. "Have you decided to come?" Leo asked, looking at Ginny inquiringly.

"I'm not sure." Ginny said. "What you two are doing could be really dangerous."

Leo shrugged. "We have considered the danger. However, if you think about it, if this witch wanted to do any of us harm, she would have done it by now. Kreacher could have done serious damage without anyone identifying him as the culprit. Rose and I have thought this out extensively."

"Well, I guess I'll come," Ginny decided, giving in to her curiosity and her friends' friendly peer pressure.

"Good," Leo smiled, picking out another robe and setting it on the bed.

~!~!~!~!~!

"I'm beginning to lose my faith in you two," Ginny grumbled as she, Leo, and Rose crept across the dimly lit street to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "If you had planned this excursion out so well, you would have realized that Leo is the only one old enough to apparate and that it takes him two trips to get everyone anywhere."

"That's only a very minor flaw," Rose whispered. "Everything else will work out great."

"Except for if we have to flee and Leo can only take you," Ginny retorted.

"We thought of that," Rose replied, handing Ginny a sock. "It's a portkey. The activation word is Gryffindor's first name."

Ginny looked at the sock and then stuffed it in her pocket. "How did you get permission to make a portkey?"

"Dad keeps a supply ready for whenever we go on outings," Rose said. "They don't solve everything because Death Eaters can put up anti-portkey wards, but they are better than nothing. That brings us to the plan. We do not want Lady Black to know that we brought anybody else if possible. Once we slip into the house, we want you to duck into another room or find some way to separate yourself from us. Try to observe the meeting, but stay out of sight. If all goes well, meet us out front, and we will go home together. If something goes bad, get out of there as soon as you can and bring help."

"It sure would be nice if I had some way to disguise myself," Ginny said.

"I know," Leo whispered as the trio stared up at the front of the brownstone that was 12 Grimmauld Place, "but this is the best we can do."

They walked up the steps and put their handle to the doorknob. The door proved to be unlocked, and they walked into the Black family's ancient house, shutting the door behind them. Inside, it was dark save for light afforded from the moon and street lamps. Though the house was well maintained, it still felt as if it had been abandoned for a long time.

Quietly, Ginny slipped into the drawing room as Leo used his wand to cast a lumos spell. Warily, Rose scanned their surroundings, looking into the rooms that opened to the hallway and up the staircase. A feeling of dread overtook her as she surveyed the darkness. The alleged Lady Black they were meeting had possibly killed Leo's grandmother in this house. Perhaps meeting her here had been a bad idea.

"Do you think she's here?" Leo asked.

"Maybe," Rose breathed, "but maybe we should go home. I don't like this idea anymore."

Leo shrugged. "We already thought it through. There is no use getting cold feet now."

"You are right, I suppose," Rose said, summoning her Gryffindor courage. "Lady Black!" Rose yelled. "Are you here?"

"There no need to shout," came a wry voice from the top of the stairs.

Leo lifted his wand and revealed a cloaked and hooded figure atop the stairs. Despite the robes, hood, and charms to prevent one from looking into the hood to see the face, it was patently clear that the cloaked figure was a woman. "Lady Black?" Leo asked.

"Indeed," she said. "Come up and let us speak. You can also bring your friend who is hiding in the drawing room."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Though she knew that Rose, Leo, and Ginny had departed, Sidra knocked on the door to Rose's bedroom. When there was no reply, she entered to find it empty. Quickly, she scanned all the other bedrooms in the house before darting downstairs to the basement. They were not there either. That meant they were gone for sure—they had not doubled back. Smiling grimly, Sidra darted upstairs to find her parents and the Weasleys. Rose, Ginny, and Leo were going to be in so much trouble when their parents found out they had gone to Grimmauld Place late at night on a lark.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix watched the three abashed teenagers as they climbed the stairs toward her. That they had tried to conceal the third of their party for safety spoke of their cleverness. Their embarrassment at doing so spoke of their immaturity and sense of honor. The specially modified robes they wore spoke of their preparation, but their complete lack of proper stance and formation in a hostile environment signified that they were nevertheless inexperienced. Bellatrix smirked as the three teenagers arrived at the top of the flight of stairs.

"Did you bring the diary?" she asked, noting with satisfaction that the voice alteration charm she had cast on herself was working well.

"Yes," Rose said as Leo withdrew it from his pocket and held it up. "However, if we do not reach a satisfactory agreement, you will not get it."

Bellatrix turned her attention to the diary, still keeping an eye on each teenager and noting with amusement that the third one had faded to the back of the group and looked ready to dash down the stairs at the first sign of trouble. The diary was plain and black, just as Harry had described, but Bellatrix could not see anything else in the poor light.

"Is there a name inscribed on it anywhere?" Bellatrix asked.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Rose said in her most neutral voice.

"Excellent," Bellatrix said. "What is your price?"

"Before we even discuss price, we need to know who Tom Marvolo Riddle is," Rose told Bellatrix.

"You do not know?" Bellatrix asked, faintly surprised, though on second thought, she realized that not even Harry had realized what he was holding the first time he had happened across the diary.

"Er, no," Leo said. "Who is he?"

"You are holding the dark lord's personal diary," Bellatrix told them reluctantly, reflecting that she should have approached this transaction with a different strategy.

"Are you planning on becoming the next dark lord?" Leo asked, suddenly feeling like he did not want anybody but Dumbledore to touch the diary.

"The term is dark lady," Bellatrix informed the teenagers drily. "And no, my intent is not to follow the dark lord's footsteps. The diary is essential to his downfall."

"Then we should really give the diary to Professor Dumbledore," Rose said beginning to realize that she had perhaps been a little less than wise. She should have tried to find out more about the diary before attempting to pawn it off like this.

"I would rather that I possess the diary," Bellatrix said, beginning to see that there would not be any civil negotiations for the diary after all.

"If you want the dark lord's downfall, then you surely cannot object to turning the diary over to Professor Dumbledore," Leo said, his voice betraying that he had become somewhat nervous.

"If Dumbledore could bring down the dark lord, he would have done so by now," Bellatrix told them. "I am in a better position than Dumbledore to bring down the dark lord. My offer of fifty thousand galleons stands."

"I'm sorry," said Rose in a voice Bellatrix took to be very condescending, "but the diary is no longer on the market. If you want to help bring down the dark lord, you will have to contact Professor Dumbledore and offer your services." She turned to head back down the stairs.

Imperceptibly, Bellatrix's wand had appeared in her hand. She brought up her arm, and with a jab, a blinding flash of light bounded from her wand and struck the person that had tried to hide in the drawing room earlier causing her to fall to the ground, paralyzed, and blocking Rose and Leo from accessing the stairs. Rose had not had her wand drawn and Leo's wand had been providing light. Before Rose and Leo could even scream, Bellatrix struck them with curses that left them silenced and temporarily paralyzed from the neck down.

"Really, I did not want it to be this way," Bellatrix told them, noting with amusement the surprise, outrage, and shame in their eyes. This was a lesson they would not soon forget. "I was willing to pay you the fifty thousand galleons." She giggled a little at the irony. "Do not worry, though. I really do mean to use the diary against the dark lord. She stepped forward, bent down, and retrieved the diary from Leo's paralyzed form.

Quickly, Bellatrix examined it. It was as Harry described. She tossed it on the floor a ways away from herself and the downed teenagers. She then cast a strong incineration charm on it. When the fire from the spell subsided, Bellatrix retrieved the diary and found it to be in perfect condition. Bellatrix looked down and saw that all three teenagers were staring at her and the diary with confusion. "Just checking to see that it is the genuine article," she said, pocketing the diary.

Bellatrix then grabbed Leo Black, dragged his inert body across the landing, and sat him up against the wall. "The curse will wear off in a little bit," Bellatrix told the teenagers. "I will even send Kreacher to make sure that you get home all right." She moved Rose, and then came to Ginny. As she was dragging Ginny off the stairs, noise from the ground floor announced the arrival of some interlopers.

"Rose! Leo!" came Lily Potter's voice.

"Ginny, are you here?" Mrs. Weasley's penetrating voice echoed through the house.

Arching her eyebrows in surprise, Bellatrix looked down at the teenagers. Perhaps they had been smarter than she had realized. Triumph gleamed in the two girls' eyes and relief in Leo's. They fully expected that their mothers would overpower and apprehend Bellatrix.

Bellatrix stepped to the edge of the stair railing, keeping out of sight, and peered down to the ground floor, recognizing Molly Weasley and the former Lily Evans, now Potter. She turned back to the teenagers and in a voice just loud enough for them to hear she said, "If you think those two cream puffs can take me in a duel, you have got a surprise coming. As it is, their presence is rather convenient. I will be on my way, and you will be home sooner than you would have been otherwise. Thanks for the diary."

Smiling, Bellatrix raised her wand and made to apparate, but discovered that there was a ward blocking apparition. Her smile turned into a frown as she stared down from the upper floor to the two mothers below looking for their children. Was it possible that they had taken such extreme precautions?

Several small explosions sounding from the front of the house ended Bellatrix's speculation. She looked down to the ground floor and watched as half a dozen dark-robed and masked figures burst into the house, stunning Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Weasley. A chill passed through Bellatrix as she heard a familiar voice.

"It should be in the basement," Rodolphus Lestrange said, motioning some of the Death Eaters toward the back of the house.

Bellatrix watched as Rodolphus and all but three of the Death Eaters moved swiftly toward the basement entrance. The remaining three Death Eaters stood guard over the unconscious forms of Mrs. Potter and Weasley. Letting out an inaudible sigh, Bellatrix looked back at the teenagers who seemed to be confused and scared. She looked back down to the ground floor where the Death Eaters were standing guard over their prisoners. Her mind racing, Bellatrix tried to think of something she could do that would save the two mothers without putting the diary at risk. Before she could even form a plan, the other Death Eaters returned from the basement, one of them carrying a small chest.

"What are we going to do with those two?" one of them asked Lestrange.

"We'll take them to Malfoy Manor," Lestrange announced deliberately, preparing to leave. In another moment, the Death Eaters had departed with their prisoners in tow.

As soon as they were gone, Bellatrix let out a very frustrated sigh. She was reasonably sure that Mrs. Potter was Harry's mother. He would be rather cross when he found out about this fiasco—especially seeing as it would not have happened without Bellatrix initiating the meeting with the three teenagers. Bellatrix imagined that Harry would want to make some sort of rescue effort. It would be very difficult, although not impossible. The Death Eaters were taking their prisoners to Malfoy Manor, and Harry did have the Malfoy family ring.

Wincing, Bellatrix turned and waved her wand to release the silencing spells on the teenagers. If she and Harry were to do anything, they would probably need some help. She reckoned it would not be difficult to convince them into helping.

~!~!~!~!

Harry was slowly thumbing through a spell book when Bellatrix returned to the flat. He heard her enter through the front door and walk toward the bedroom where he was sitting on their bed, propped up against headboard. He looked up as she entered the room, noting that she seemed on edge. "Did you get the diary?" he asked, wondering if something had gone wrong.

"I got it," Bellatrix began, "but there's been a problem." Quickly, she explained about the Death Eaters capturing Lily Potter and Molly Weasley and about why they had been at 12 Grimmauld Place at all. "I assumed that you would want to do something," Bellatrix concluded.

Harry suppressed a sigh, put the book down, and nodded. "Yes, if there's anything at all we can do, we should do it."'

"It is because Lily Potter is your mother, is it not?" Bellatrix said.

Surprised at Bellatrix's guess and ignorant of how she might have found out, Harry nodded. "Yes, James and Lily Potter are my parents."

"I am really sorry, Harry," Bellatrix said somewhat quietly. "I did not mean for this to happen."

"Things happen," Harry said, already working to determine how he and Bellatrix could rescue Lily Potter and Molly Weasley. He could feel deep emotions stirring below the surface, but knew that if he drew on them and gave them expression, he would not be able to think rationally enough to launch a rescue. Drawing upon occulmency instead, Harry queried Bellatrix, "I don't suppose you have any ideas already thought up."

"No," admitted Bellatrix, "but I have brought some help with me."

"Really?" Harry replied, his astonishment apparent.

"Yes. A Potter, a Black, and a Weasley. I left them outside. The Black and Weasley are going to need your permission to cross our blood wards." Bellatrix said.

"Uh . . . permission given?" Harry said.

"That is good enough," Bellatrix said, leaving the room.

Five minutes passed before she returned with three teenagers in tow. Regretfully realizing he had been too distracted to disguise himself with glamour, Harry immediately recognized Ginny Weasley among Bellatrix's charges, but found the other two unfamiliar. Harry stared curiously at their faces as they looked at him with naked suspicion painted on their faces.

"They have been sworn to an oath of secrecy concerning your existence," Bellatrix told Harry. She gestured to the boy. "This is Leo Black, the son of Sirius Black." Then, motioning toward the girl with brown hair, "This is Rose Potter." Finally, she motioned toward Ginny. "This is Ginny Weasley."

Harry was vaguely surprised at the existence of Rose and Leo, but pleased to see that his parents had lived to have more children and that Sirius had apparently not gone to Azkaban. He also was happy to see Ginny alive and well.

"So, you're Lord Black," Rose Potter said, staring into Harry's green eyes with a maddeningly vague sense of recognition.

"I hardly think being Lord Black is the most significant thing about me," Harry scoffed, slightly put off by his quasi-sibling.

"Then what's your real name?" Rose demanded.

"Call me Harry," Harry instructed.

"Harry who?"

"Harry Black," Bellatrix snapped.

Rose turned on Bellatrix. "You still haven't told me what your name is."

"It's Lady Black, dimwit," Bellatrix growled. "Do you want to rescue your mother, or do you want to be a snot?"

"Has anyone notified the Order of the Phoenix about Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Potter?" Harry asked.

"No," Bellatrix said. "They were afraid that if they went home to sound the alarm, they wouldn't be able to return and help. I told them we'd figure something out."

"Well, let's notify the Order and give your mothers an extra chance," Harry said. "Can any of you cast a patronus?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Leo said, remembering that the Order often communicated with patroni and cursing himself for never learning the trick.

"You can," Bellatrix said to Harry.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I don't really have a lot of magical strength to spare. Didn't you ever practice it after I taught the spell to you?"

"A little bit," Bellatrix said, annoyed at losing face in front of the three teenagers, unmindful of her own teenage status.

"How much progress did you make?" Harry asked.

"Mostly white mist. One time, it looked like it might form into a bird," Bellatrix admitted.

"Try it again," Harry said. "Remember everything I told you and focus on a really happy memory. When the patronus appears, instruct it to tell Albus Dumbledore that Lily Potter and Molly Weasley have been captured by the Death Eaters."

Bellatrix waved her wand and uttered the incantation. A white mist shot from the wand, hung in the air, but eventually dissipated. Everyone in the room let out a disappointed sigh. Bellatrix looked back to Harry. "Any other bright ideas?"

"Try again?" Harry urged.

"If it didn't work now, it isn't going to work again," Bellatrix said with disappointment.

Harry locked his gaze onto Bellatrix's violet eyes and was again reminded of how breathlessly beautiful she was. Tightly channeling his admiration into his voice, he spoke directly to her. "Bellatrix, you're singularly the most powerful, most talented, and most stunning witch I have ever seen on the field of battle, and coming to truly know you has been both a blessing and a pleasure. I know that you can do it, Bellatrix, because I know you can cast pretty much any spell there is."

Bellatrix stared back at Harry silently for several moments, her eyes widening and shining so fleetingly that Harry could not be sure he had really elicited the reaction. With a small, unconscious smile she cast the spell again. This time, a blindingly bright raven flashed into existence and circled the room before landing on Harry's shoulder. Everyone—Rose, Leo, and Ginny included—stared at it in awe. Harry nodded at Bellatrix to remind her of the message, and soon the raven patronus was on its way to inform Professor Dumbledore of Lily and Molly's plight.

"It just occurred to me," Leo said slowly. "How can we be completely sure that Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Weasley were taken to Malfoy Manor and are still there?"

"The Death Eaters said that they were taking them there," Bellatrix replied, surprisingly placidly, considering that Leo was questioning her assumptions.

Harry frowned. "Maybe Lily still has that ring I gave her," he said.

"Ashworth!" Rose shouted. "You're Harry Ashworth!" She whirled on Bellatrix. "That makes you Bellatrix Black."

"I'm guessing that Lily still has the ring," Bellatrix said drily.

"Why did you two disappear and why are you here now?" Rose demanded. "What happened?"

"Rose, we need to focus on the rescue," Harry said, briefly exasperated as an image of Hermione's raised arm waving in the front of a classroom flashed through his mind. Again warding off his emotions, Harry looked down at his Malfoy ring and tried to remember how it worked with the other two rings that were subordinate to it. He closed his eyes, focused on the ring, and tentatively reached out with it toward Lily's ring. He could soon hear voices, even though he could see nothing. He listened as faceless Death Eaters viciously threatened Mrs. Potter and Weasley, trying to find out why they had been in 12 Grimmauld Place. A few more seconds of eavesdropping and Harry was able to establish through the ring's magic that the two women were without doubt at Malfoy Manor.

"They're definitely at the Manor," Harry said. "They seem to be as good as can be expected for the moment."

"Good," Bellatrix nodded. "We will need a plan."

"Okay," mused Harry. "We can't do a full on frontal assault. We'll need to find a way to sneak in and rescue them."

"It shouldn't be that hard," Bellatrix said. "You've got the Malfoy ring which can get us all past most wards—at least to the extent they're based on the property and not on other things. Really, we could probably blast in there, take them by surprise, and be gone before any of the Death Eaters know what is happening."

"That would have worked," Harry said. "But while I was listening in, the Death Eaters were telling Lily and Molly that the dark lord was on his way to question them."

"Not good," Leo Black swallowed.

"I would rather not confront Tom at the present moment," Harry said. "I'm still recovering from injuries and have a limited supply of magic in my reserves. I had also hoped to avoid notifying him that I'm around—at least until I've built up more stamina."

Not understanding why Harry wanted to conceal himself from Voldemort for the moment, but game enough to try to work in the boundaries, Ginny piped up. "You can probably do a lot of your stuff without him realizing that you're around. Maybe your wife could be a red herring and distract You-Know-Who while you do your job."

"Maybe," Harry temporized, somewhat surprising himself with his deep hesitation to place Bellatrix in danger. But the only apparent alternative, placing the three teenagers in danger, seemed to be an equally terrible idea.

Suddenly, Bellatrix's eyes lit up and she took the floor. "I've got an idea. What if Harry was the red herring?"

"Are you saying that Harry would be the red herring to distract You-Know-Who from discovering that Harry exists?" Ginny asked haltingly.

"Yes," said Bellatrix.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Rose exclaimed.

Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix began to lay out her plan. Although imperfect, with input and then agreement from everyone, Harry and Bellatrix were able to put her plan into working shape.

~!~!~!~!

Its members in a state of general distress, the Order convened at an abandoned home in Hogsmeade. Professor Dumbledore had purchased the house for the sole purpose of hosting Order meetings. The urgent nature of some meetings made it impractical to require Order members to apparate outside the Hogwarts boundaries and walk to his office. The homes of individual Order members were also out of the question because no one Order member trusted every single member of the Order with access to their homes. The existence of the suspicion was sad—but it had saved lives.

"I don't understand why Rose, Leo, and Ginny would sneak out like that," Frank Longbottom said, still aghast at the news of Lily and Molly's capture and trying to come to terms with what must have happened.

"I'm suspicious about this raven patronus that allegedly raised the alarm," Mad-Eye said gruffly, raising his voice enough to be heard over the general chatter.

"If it's a patronus the person probably isn't a Death Eater," Sirius Black said, rolling his eyes.

"Ravens are dark creatures!" Moody retorted. "I think this could be a trap."

"We went to Grimmauld Place and nobody was there," James Potter interrupted impatiently. "Lily and Molly are nowhere to be found! The Death Eaters must have captured them. We would have heard from them by now otherwise."

"The children aren't around either!" Moody retorted. "Where are they, and why didn't this mysterious patronus sender tell us about their status?"

Nobody knew, but plenty of people were willing to debate it. Eventually, Dumbledore personally arrived and the meeting began in earnest.

~!~!~!~!

Neville Longbottom followed Rose and Leo down a garden path. "Wait, so you're really launching a rescue mission?" he asked his two friends.

"Yes," said Rose as the trio walked briskly toward the perimeter of the Longbottom residence. "There's virtually no risk to us. We just need an extra wand."

"If there's no risk, why do you need a wand?" Neville asked suspiciously. He knew that Rose and Leo had a tendency to underestimate the risks—he also knew from what his parents had told him before leaving for the emergency Order meeting that Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Potter were allegedly being held at Malfoy Manor. Everyone knew that the dark lord considered that his headquarters.

"Look, you and Ginny are going to stand around with some guy. If any Death Eaters get close, all you have got to do is activate a portkey and send him away. It's that simple," Rose said. "There's practically zero chance of anything bad happening. You parents probably won't even know you left the house."

The trio reached the perimeter and apparated away after Leo told Neville the location to which he should apparate. The trio arrived in a small clearing in the woods a small distance away from Malfoy Manor. They could see the silhouette of the Manor in the moonlight. Rose, Leo, and Neville looked around and found Ginny perched on a stack of wooden crates.

"Did you find any dynamite?" Leo asked Ginny.

"No," Ginny said quietly, "but Bellatrix and I were able to ah . . . borrow something called C4."

"What's C4 and who is Bellatrix?" Neville asked curtly.

"Bellatrix is this lady, who, ah . . ." Leo tried to explain.

Rose snorted. "She's not a lady—she's a teenage girl. I bet she's no older than me."

"If she was your mom's schoolmate, and if this Ashworth guy gave your mom a ring, then she's definitely not a teenage girl," Ginny pointed out before explaining to Neville briefly what had happened and how Harry and Bellatrix were involved.

"So where are this Harry and Bellatrix?" Neville asked.

"Behind you," came a female voice.

Startled, Neville spun around and found a gorgeous, raven-haired young woman pointing a wand at his face. Quickly, Neville surmised that Rose was correct. Bellatrix was definitely a teenage girl. "Aren't we on the same side?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, "but I'm going to have to ask you to swear an oath not to reveal any information about Harry to anybody."

"I don't know if I like that," Neville said staunchly.

"Just do it," Ginny pleaded. "We need to rescue my mother, and we're wasting time."

After Neville grudgingly swore the magical oath, Bellatrix faded back into the forest, satisfied, and returned with Harry on a floating cot. Harry looked rather irate. "I can walk, you know," he grumbled for what the teenagers guessed was the umpteenth time.

"I've seen you do it, in fact," Bellatrix replied drily as she set the cot down with a gesture of her wand.

"Look at the bright side," Leo snickered. "After this is over, you can brag that you fought a battle while lying on a cot."

"I don't think that's something to brag about," Harry complained, sitting up.

"Let's get down to business," Bellatrix said impatiently. "First item on the agenda is to confirm that Harry can project his image past the wards without the Malfoy ring—or rather, with me wearing the ring and giving permission for people to project images past any wards tied to the land."

After removing the Malfoy ring from his finger and handing the ring to Bellatrix, Harry then produced his wand. Bellatrix then gave her subservient ring to Harry, who donned it as Bellatrix donned the Malfoy master ring. Harry then cast the image projection spell. The teenagers were impressed as they watched Harry's image seemingly disappear from the cot even though they could see the outline of his legs from the sheets lying on top of them. In a moment, Harry's "image" reappeared in the cot. "The coast is clear," he said. "I even appeared in an abandoned room in the basement."

"Excellent," Bellatrix nodded.

She dug through a satchel she was carrying and produced a number of small potion vials, which she handed to Harry. "Drink these and try to rest." She then pointed to Neville and Ginny. "You're on guard as of now. When we are ready to start, I will send a signal to Harry through the rings. If anything happens, you get Harry out of here." She paused and made eye contact with both teens. "If anything happens to him, I'll skin you two alive."

"You two," Bellatrix said pointing to Rose and Leo, "are with me for now."

Bellatrix and her two helpers shrunk the crates of explosives and then departed with them in the darkness. Neville and Ginny drew their wands and took position flanking the sides of the cot, peering out into the darkness as if some creature were out there waiting to pounce. Harry considered telling them that Bellatrix would not skin them alive if anything happened to him, but he didn't because he knew it would be a lie. In some small way, that made him rather happy.

~!~!~!~!

The picture of calm, icy arrogance, Narcissa Malfoy brushed her hair, focusing on her face in the mirror. Even when not in the presence of her husband or his Death Eater friends, she maintained this mask of indifference. In the beginning, it has been so that she could somehow convince herself that everything was fine. Now she did it to prevent herself from falling to pieces when contemplating her miserable life.

She was thinking about her son and his plight as he travelled with his father on a mission for the dark lord. The poor boy probably did not realize how precarious his situation was. He was not yet a major player in the dark lord's forces—he was only a pawn. However, Severus was helping her change that. If the dark lord approved, Draco would become an apprentice to Snape. The dark lord always needed potions.

Narcissa continued to brush her hair, already having surpassed the self-imposed count of one hundred strokes. She was just about to put the brush down when she saw in the mirror the air behind her ripple as a disillusionment charm faded. Standing behind her was her sister Bellatrix.

Narcissa's wand was on the dressing table directly in front of her, but Bellatrix's wand was in her hand already. A short jab of Bellatrix's wand and Narcissa was under a body bind curse, frozen on the stool and staring in the mirror, her hand having only moved an inch toward her wand.

Bellatrix stepped closer and put her head next to Narcissa's. The sisters stared at each other in the mirror. "Aunt Walburga was surprised to see me, too," Bellatrix said quietly. She saw the fear in Narcissa's eyes and moved to alleviate those fears—somewhat. "I did not kill her, though she would have deserved it. I would like to think she saw justice coming for helping the dark lord, but I think she just could not bear to continue living with me taking her place at the helm of the Black family. Narcissa stared with fascination as Bellatrix raised one of her hands and displayed the Black family ring that was reserved for the wife of the head of house.

Bellatrix stared at Narcissa's face, and for the first time felt the weight of how much time had really passed because of her and Harry's travel through time. She stared at the small wrinkles that were beginning to show around Narcissa's eyes. "Time has been far kinder to me," Bellatrix said softly, smirking as she said it and noting the confusion in Narcissa's eyes. The nominally younger sister, Narcissa, had just realized how remarkably young her older sister appeared.

"I'll be seeing you," Bellatrix said brightly, standing up straight and plucking a hair from Narcissa's head. She withdrew a flask from within her cloak, opened it, and dropped the hair into a dose of Polyjuice potion. She drank it, and a minute later, an alternate version of Narcissa Malfoy exited the room, heading toward the lower floors of Malfoy Manor.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lily Potter trembled as the Death Eaters turned away from her and Molly Weasley. That they had stopped questioning them was wonderful, but it could only mean that Lord Voldemort had personally arrived to question them. So far, the Death Eaters had put Lily and Molly under the Cruciatus curse a number of times. It had been horrible, but she knew it was about to get worse. As members of the Order, Lily and Molly could and would be forced to provide valuable information to the dark lord.

In another time, Molly might have been set aside and kept safe as a hostage to ply leverage on her father, Minister Prewitt. However, the dark lord had previously tried that tactic with the Minister's twin sons. The Dark Lord's threats against Gideon and Fabian Prewitt failed to sway the hard-hearted Minister of Magic, and so the twins had been killed. Voldemort would not suffer through another such fiasco.

"We've got to do something," Molly muttered through her quiet tears to Lily. "They'll kill us, and we'll never see our families again. We've got nothing to lose from trying."

"I know," Lily gasped through her pain. "I know. I'm just trying to think."

The two witches listened as the Death Eaters talked amongst themselves on the other side of the room. They could hear the familiar tones of the dark lord's voice, though they could not make out what anyone was saying.

"If only we had a portkey or something," Molly said.

"I know," Lily said, "but they took ours away from us." She racked her brain, trying to think of some way to break free of the ropes that had been tied around her wrists and ankles. Was there anything she had brought with her that the Death Eaters had not taken away?

Abruptly, she remembered that while being questioned by the Death Eaters, she had felt a small twinge on her hand. She looked down and saw the ring that Harry Ashworth had given her long ago, promising that if she was in trouble she need only turn the jewel in its setting and he would come. But Harry Ashworth was dead. Dumbledore had reported that he and Bellatrix Black apparently died in an inferno in the home of Lord Voldemort's father.

"Molly," Lily said very quietly as she scooted toward her fellow prisoner.

"Have you figured something out?" Molly asked.

"Not really," Lily said, "but it is worth a shot. The ring on my right hand can send a distress signal."

"To who?" Molly asked, scooting toward Lily instinctively.

"Probably nobody," Lily sighed, "but you never know who might be listening. See if you can twist the jewel on it."

It took some effort, but eventually Molly was able to get her fingers in the right position with enough grip to twist the ring. The jewel clicked, turned, and clicked into place. Silence abruptly descended over the room. Lily and Molly were horrified to see that the group of Death Eaters were moving toward them.

The Death Eaters formed a ring around the two prisoners with Voldemort standing in the ring and looking down at them. Lily's eyes slid away from Voldemort as she scanned the group of Death Eaters. They all wore hoods, to disguise their identities as much from each other as from their prisoners. Snape had reported this to the Order's inner circle.

The only exception to this, of course, was Narcissa Malfoy. Everybody, the Ministry included, knew that she was involved with the Death Eaters. The Ministry would have arrested and imprisoned the Malfoy family long ago, but Lucius and Draco were too good at staying hidden, and Narcissa was safely behind the walls of Malfoy Manor.

The Ministry was not foolhardy enough to suffer the number of casualties that would result from an attack on the Manor's defenses, simply to take into custody a pathetic pureblood woman whom Ministry officials could not tie directly to any specific Death Eater atrocities. That said, Ministry officials, and indeed most citizens of Magical Britain, agreed that she was ignobly guilty of numberless sins of omission. However, rather than risk the lives of aurors raiding the hiding places of Death Eater wives and children, the Ministry instead prioritized defending the innocent from Death Eater attacks.

Lily stared up at this cold-hearted, pathetic woman and wondered how Narcissa Malfoy could stand by and watch the horrible things the Death Eaters did to other people. The woman had a son. Did she not understand how horrible it was to torture and kill people?

Narcissa apparently felt Lily's gaze, and she tilted her head to stare at Lily, seemingly reading Lily's thoughts. In reply to them, she smirked. This surprised Lily greatly—it was out of character for Narcissa Malfoy, at least the Narcissa Lily remembered. At that, Narcissa broke eye contact, and stepped back into the group of Death Eaters, absently toying with a ring on her finger.

Lily had no more time to wonder about Narcissa's behavior because Voldemort was now speaking to them.

"What did you just do?"

"What do you mean?" Lily bit back.

Voldemort cast the Cruciatus curse on her, watching as Lily screamed in pain. He stopped and watched her convulse on the floor. "I suggest you tell me what you did. I know you did something that involved a certain amount of magic. I could feel it. Are you capable of wandless magic, perhaps?

Lily did not reply, and Voldemort raised his wand, but Molly spoke up to prevent her friend from being tortured. "The ring—it can send a distress signal."

"To whom does this distress signal go?" Voldemort inquired.

Lily refused to answer and got another dose of the torture curse. Eventually, she realized that it was pointless to hold out on that particular secret. It had been a stupid thing to do. She might as well just say and avoid suffering over it. "Harry Ashworth," she sobbed. "Professor Ashworth gave me the ring when he was the potions professor at Hogwarts. He said he would come if I was in distress."

Lord Voldemort laughed. "Harry Ashworth? Did you actually believe Harry Ashworth would come and save you?"

The Death Eaters also laughed, though they did not quite understand what was so especially funny about the poor Potter woman hoping that some former potions professor would come rescue her.

Voldemort did not bother waiting for a response from Lily. "Harry Ashworth is dead. I killed him and Minister Black's arrogant daughter over twenty years ago. They burned to death in fiendfyre."

A voice from the head of the staircase that led into the room from below interrupted the exchange. "I don't remember . . . dying."

The silence in the room was deafening as everyone turned to stare at Harry Ashworth. He stood at the edge of the room as if he had just ascended the staircase. He looked the same as he had over two decades previous, save for the fact that he seemed rather gray and almost translucent. What appeared to be smoke curled from his clothing as if his robes were slowly smoldering.

Voldemort stared at Harry in shock. "It can't be," he whispered.

"Tom Riddle," Harry said evenly, "we meet again. Do you mind if I just call you Tom? That's how I introduce you to my acquaintances."

Shock and hope rippled through Lily. She knew the voice. Desperately, she tried to shift and move so that she could see her former professor despite being bound in ropes, but the sheer number of Death Eaters, arranged into a circle around her and Molly, made it difficult to see the confrontation.

"No," said Voldemort, his voice slowly rising and almost imperceptibly tinged with doubt. "No. You are dead. I killed you!"

"No, Tom," Harry shook his head, clearly in denial. "You didn't kill me. I'm still here, aren't I? I felt Lily's distress signal. I'm here to rescue her!"

"You are dead!" Voldemort shrieked. "Dead, dead, dead!" He lashed out with his wand and sent a blasting curse at Harry, which sped harmlessly through Harry's ghostly form. Voldemort smiled, and then laughed as he spoke. "See?" he said with disdain and a hint of relief. "If you were alive, that would have hurt you! Be gone, ghost!"

The Death Eaters had sensed that standing too close to an agitated dark lord would be bad, so they had backed away, breaking the circle around Lily and Molly. Lily could now see what seemed to be the ghost of her dead former potions professor. In one way, she was gratified that he had come, but in another, she was disappointed that he clearly would not be able to do anything to rescue her as a ghost, save perhaps for tracking down the Order and giving them information. By that time, it would probably be too late, however.

Harry, meanwhile, stared down at his ghostly form as if he was just now discovering it. "But I don't remember dying," he said slowly, as if thinking through a problem. Then he smiled brightly. "I didn't die, Tom. I'm sure of it." He stepped toward Voldemort, who took a step back.

"Harry Ashworth, you're dead!" Voldemort shrilly shouted. "Leave me, or I'll send for a necromancer."

"I'm not dead," Harry argued calmly. "I can still feel things. I can feel you."

"What do you mean?" Voldemort asked, his fear now noticeably apparent.

"I can feel your mind," Harry said, walking slowly toward Voldemort who was now retreating to the side of the room, away from Lily and Molly. As Lily watched, Harry reached out his hand toward Voldemort whose eyes widened as if his mind was at that moment being touched. With lethal speed, the dark lord sent a volley of curses toward Harry, who smiled almost beatifically as the curses passed harmlessly through his grey and smoky form.

Harry drew his wand casually and grinned as he pointed it at Voldemort. "Prepare to die." Harry then lashed out with his wand in a dramatic gesture, swinging his free hand up behind him as if to balance himself against the backlash his spell would cause. However, as he did so, Harry's form began to fade, and just as he would have let the spell fly, he disappeared completely.

Before Voldemort or anyone else in the room could react, an explosion shook Malfoy Manor, and then another, and another. Voldemort began shouting for his followers to man the manor's perimeter and defend against the attackers as the explosions methodically continued. He cautioned them not to neglect the sides of the manor where there were no explosions, lest the enemy sneak in while they were distracted.

Bemused, Lily watched the chaos as the Death Eaters scurried about while Voldemort tried to retrace the steps of Harry Ashworth's ghost. Abruptly, she felt someone grab her from behind, push her against Molly and place something in her hand. A second later, she felt the familiar sensation of portkey travel.

29. Ramifications and Repercussions

A/N: Thank you for all of your reviews. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, LS.

Chapter 28

By

Lord Silvere & Gilgameshone

Impatiently awaiting the onset of fireworks, Ginny Weasley cursed herself silently. Her foolhardiness had led her into being cursed and incapacitated by Lady Black, watching helplessly as Rose and Leo lost possession of the Dark Lord's personal diary, and leading her mother into the arms of Death Eaters. Even after all these years, her mother still choked up on the rare occasions that she spoke of the fate suffered by Ginny's twin uncles, Fabian and Gideon, at the hands of the Dark Lord.

Molly had never forgiven Ginny's grandfather, Minister Prewitt, for his inflexible unwillingness to negotiate in any way for the lives of his sons. In truth, for that grievous sin against family, everyone in the Weasley clan, excepting perhaps Ginny's eldest brother Percy, avoided speaking too often with the man they all called "The Minister."

Now Ginny shuddered to realize that she herself might end up causing Molly's death—not on the basis of principle but as a result of base stupidity. Appealing truly to divinity for the first time in her young life. Ginny begged of the velvet nighttime sky, Not my mother, please! Please, take me, she pleaded, spare my mother, take me, please! Finally, as the explosions triggered by Rose and Leo ripped and rippled throughout the grounds of Malfoy Manor, Ginny held her breath, maintaining her vigil even while glancing expectantly at the cot holding the invisible form of Harry Ashworth.

Come back, she now pleaded of Harry, the explosions having been his cue to retreat. Please come back and tell me the plan worked! Suddenly, Ginny saw Death Eaters appear in the Manor's many windows, some casting shield charms, others wildly shooting stunners at the bushes around the grounds. Tell me this worked, she pleaded to no one and everyone, guide all of us home! Keep the Weasleys and the Potters and the Blacks safe and whole! Finally, expelling a breath she'd forgotten she was holding, Ginny turned to see Harry Ashworth's image reunite with his body.

"Did everything go all right in there?" Ginny asked breathlessly, her voice made raspy by a mouth dry from fear. Noting Lord Black's arrival, Neville also turned expectantly to hear Harry's answer.

"Yes," Harry smiled triumphantly, "it went nearly perfectly." Ginny swallowed despite her dry throat and placed her hands over her heart in relief. Harry added, "I suspect your mother is already in safe hands."

Ginny then noted that Harry appeared somewhat sweaty and pale, but nevertheless seemed enthused and energetic. His eyes, in particular, appeared bright and very wide. Throwing off the blankets that had covered him in the cot, Harry stood with a slight struggle and a helping hand from Neville.

"Nearly perfect?" Neville marveled. "What could have gone better?"

Harry frowned faintly. "We were aiming for a happy medium, and I'm not sure we achieved it. I don't want the dark lord to accept the idea that I'm alive, well, and back to bother him, but I don't want him to dismiss the idea either. I am not entirely sure that I persuaded him enough. In a few days, he'll convince himself that this was all was a clever ploy pulled off by the Order."

"Oh," said Ginny, now slowly drifting towards exhaustion as her adrenalized fear faded, entirely unconcerned with the subtle touches Harry and Bellatrix sought to integrate into the rescue mission.

"So, are we headed to the rendezvous point, now?" Neville asked leadingly.

"Not yet," Harry demurred to the disbelief of his teenage minders, as all three glanced at the Death Eaters now milling around the windows of the Manor. "I think I need to do just a little more to sell this."

"Your wife gave very strict instructions," Ginny reminded Harry, now apprehensive about Bellatrix's response.

"Tell her I disobeyed," Harry smirked, walking slowly and deliberately to the edge of the forest.

Ginny and Neville shot concerned glances at each other before sprinting to catch up with Harry, who had stopped on the forest's innermost margin. Instead of looking into the grounds as Neville and Ginny thought Harry had intended, Harry was studying the boundary between the forest and the manor walls.

"This will work perfectly!" Harry declared, his voice slightly brittle from his flagging energies.

Suddenly, Harry aimed his wand to the right and shot a wave of fiendfyre deep into the forest as Ginny and Neville looked on, jaws slack with astonishment. Harry then turned to his left and released yet another wave of fiendfyre into the depths of the forest. He smiled weakly, noting that the fiendfyre had caused a stronger reaction from the Death Eaters inside the manor than even the explosions had.

His satisfaction was not to be enjoyed for long, however. Ginny watched as his face began to lose color. Shoulders now slouching, Harry mumbled, "I don't feel well."

Quickly, Ginny and Neville refocused on Harry, alarmed as he slowly slumped down to the ground. More alarmingly, the teens glanced around themselves to find fiendfyre racing ravenously throughout the forest, in all directions, including their own.

"Let's get out of here," Neville stated decisively.

Ginny then pulled a Rubik's cube from her pocket, checking carefully to see that it was set as Harry and Bellatrix had instructed. She then placed the cube in Harry's limp hand, both teens placing their own hands firmly atop the cube before Ginny spoke the activation word, "Trouble."

One gut twisting portkey trip later, the three appeared on a bench at a bus stop in Ireland. No one else was there.

"So, are we late or early?" Neville asked uncertainly, looking around.

"I don't know," Ginny replied as she nervously peered into the foggy night. She pushed Harry up so that he was sitting properly on the bench, conscious if only barely.

"Any chance of just dropping Harry off at his home?" Neville urged, glancing circumferentially into the forbidding darkness, clearly uncomfortable to be sitting out in the open, easy pickings for anyone in search of foolish prey.

Ginny shrugged, brushing Harry's unruly black hair away from his eyes, noticing for the first time a lightning bolt-shaped scar across the top of his forehead. "I'm not entirely sure where his home is."

"You were there!" Neville exclaimed with frustration.

"Well, yeah," Ginny retorted sharply, "but his crazy wife made sure we didn't have a clue where it was."

"Hey," Neville said loudly, trying to get Harry's attention. "We want to take you home. Is there any chance you can set this portkey to get us there?"

Tiredly, Harry stuck out his hand, wherein Ginny deposited the Rubik's cube. Harry looked at each of them individually and smiled. "Gin, Nev, you two are the best," Harry muttered familiarly, confusing the two teens who then watched as Harry slowly turned the cube, manipulating its face into a specific design. Harry looked at the cube as closely as his exhaustion allowed, then closed his eyes and held the cube out so all three of them could grasp it.

"Trouble," Ginny whispered.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix rummaged through the shelves of a Muggle drugstore looking for something to clean wounds. "Merlin save us from dimwits who get blown up by their own C4," she grumbled angrily.

"Singed," Rose cried out, propped atop on one of the druggist's stools and holding her head in her hands, "singed. I didn't blow myself up."

"If you were only singed, you would not be bleeding," Bellatrix said acidly, finding a bottle of something that advertised itself as a disinfectant. "Blood means that you blew yourself up." She walked down another aisle, found some gauze and medical tape, and added that to her collection.

"I'm still here, aren't I? That means I haven't been blown into bits." Rose shot back, sounding very miserable. "How was I supposed to know that it was going to be that big of an explosion? And what in the world does a pureblood know about bloody C4, anyway?"

Harry mentioned plenty about Muggle explosives, Bellatrix thought, recalling technical descriptions of desperate tactics employed by the Order during the conflict Bellatrix had come to think of as the Lost War. But I wish he'd tell me all of his secrets, she added, frustrated by Harry's ongoing reticence to describe the conflict in detail. Bellatrix then rolled her eyes in the darkness of the store, as much at Harry as at Rose, while berating the younger Potter daughter in the darkness. "Your boyfriend managed to avoid getting blown up," she stated drily. "Where has he gotten to?"

"I'm right here," Leo called, emerging from a bathroom in the back of the building with a bucket of hot water.

Leo then carried the bucket over to Rose, and was shortly joined by Bellatrix, who'd grabbed a few more things off the shelves. Leo watched with amusement in his eyes as Bellatrix removed the price tag from a washcloth before dipping it into the water. Rose still had her face buried in her hands.

"We cannot do anything until you remove your hands from your face," Bellatrix observed flatly.

Reluctantly, Rose moved her hands to reveal a bloody, bruised, blackened, thoroughly dirty face.

"Maybe we should take her to St. Mungo's," Leo worried aloud.

"I do not think that is necessary," Bellatrix replied as she began scrubbing Rose's face.

"That hurts!" Rose exclaimed, pulling away.

Again rolling her eyes, Bellatrix handed the washcloth to Leo. "Wash her up," she ordered.

Leo, working more gingerly with Rose, cleaned up her face in fairly short order. Bellatrix then used a few spells to extract some of the debris that the explosion had embedded into Rose's face, before Leo washed, disinfected, and treated Rose's wounds. When they finished, Bellatrix dumped all the medicinal supplies into a bag proceeded to the makeup counter, where she selected several more items for Rose's use. "You are going to need all the makeup you can get for the next week or so," Bellatrix advised Rose, handing her the bulging bag.

After leaving enough cash next to the till to cover expenses, Bellatrix grasped her wand firmly in her right hand before silently extending her open left palm before Rose. Rose regarded her with confusion for a few seconds until Bellatrix arched her right eyebrow and shook her head, whereupon Rose's eyes widened with recognition before she produced the Rubik's cube portkey Bellatrix had loaned to Rose earlier. Able to apparate, Leo had been given no cube.

"And the spare wands we lent to both of you, worthless though they may be," Bellatrix added, sending Leo and Rose rummaging through their respective robes for one of the poorly made wands Harry long ago purchased in bulk before storing, in charmed strongboxes, along with the cubes.

Placing the colorful cube and flimsy wands within her robes, Bellatrix raised her wand and prepared to depart, prompting Rose to ask sharply, "You're leaving already?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said curtly. "Leo can get you home from here."

"How are we supposed to explain all of this to our parents?" Rose demanded.

"That is for you to figure out," Bellatrix smiled. "You can tell them the little you know about me, but remember that you are bound by oath to not discuss Harry. Do not even hint that Harry Ashworth is alive. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Leo said, resigned.

"I should hope so," Bellatrix stated smugly. "You swore on your magic, after all." With nagging apprehension, Bellatrix then quickly apparated away, appearing in Manchester outside of the flat she shared with Harry. She hoped that Ginny, Neville, and Harry had employed good sense and abandoned the rendezvous spot when Bellatrix and her charges failed to arrive in a timely manner.

Spotting Longbottom near the base of the stairs that led to the apartment, right arm at his side like someone warily palming a wand, Bellatrix was considerably—if somewhat inexplicably—relieved.

Neville spotted Bellatrix immediately. "Ginny and your house elf took your husband upstairs," he said evenly, approaching her somewhat slowly, wand still at his side, clearly not entirely trustful of Bellatrix.

"Good," Bellatrix replied, responding neutrally to Neville's defensive body language. "You're palming your wand. I approve. You seem at first blush to have a better grasp of proper dueling than Leo, Rose, or Ginny."

"Er, thank you," Neville replied uncertainly.

"I'll need to retrieve that worthless spare wand we lent you," Bellatrix added.

Never moving his right arm from his side, Neville reached under his robes and between his shoulder blades with his left hand, retrieving the spare wand and placing it into Bellatrix's extended left hand as she smiled approvingly. Mildly impressed with Neville, Bellatrix briefly considered inviting the Longbottom scion upstairs, but dismissed the idea when she saw no immediate benefit. "I'll send Ginny down, and you will be able to take her home, correct?"

"Yes, finally," Neville said gratefully, eager to end this experience.

After climbing the stairs and entering the apartment, Bellatrix found her husband asleep in their bed under the watch of Ginny Weasley, who sat on the edge of the bed next to Harry with a steaming mug of hot cocoa in her hands. Annoyed at the teenager's presumptuous familiarity with her husband, Bellatrix paused to consider the Weasley daughter. With reflective disdain— overlaid atop a thin sheen of envy—Bellatrix noted Ginny's buxom chest and full figure, pondering Ginny's long auburn tress and open face with an annoyingly elusive sense of recognition. Then Bellatrix heard Harry's voice in her head as the revelation hit her. My best mate's little sister, Harry had called her. She'd died during the course of the Lost War with Riddle. But she and Harry had also dated.

Bellatrix inhaled sharply, hissing faintly as a flood of alarm and jealousy rose rapidly within her chest, quickly drowning disdain and envy both. Startled by the sound, Ginny quickly stood and turned to look into Lady Black's glaring face. Nearly spilling the cup of cocoa as she rose and whirled, Ginny immediately began explaining herself.

"I got him into bed, and he said he might like a cup of hot cocoa, and when I got back from making it, he had fallen asleep, and I wanted to make sure he was alright," Ginny blurted before setting the mug down on the bedside table. Averting her eyes, Ginny brushed past Bellatrix, heading straight for the apartment door as she added, "I think I need to get going."

"I should say so," Bellatrix responded quietly.

Walking to a living room window at the front of the apartment, Bellatrix watched Ginny exit the entry at the base of the stairs. Ginny grasped Neville's hand quickly, and to his very apparent surprise kissed him deeply and fiercely, before both teens disappeared with the audible pop of side-along apparition.

Bloody hell, Bellatrix realized, annoyed that she had let herself be distracted, I forgot to take back that ginger hussy's cube! And the spare wand, as well! Some dispassionate Slytherin you are! Berating herself silently for several minutes, Bellatrix finally reflected resignedly, Can't do anything about the wand. Piece of garbage, anyway. Who in Merlin's name makes wands in bulk? But losing that cube could be a pain in the ass. Reviewing its protections in her head, however, she reassured herself. Good thing Harry's friend was clever enough to design those cubes with all those devilishly clever failsafe charms. Even if they still lost their war against Riddle.

With a sigh, Bellatrix turned from the window and returned to the bedroom. Spotting the mug of cocoa left by Ginny, Bellatrix sniffed it carefully. Detecting nothing amiss, Bellatrix nevertheless took the mug to the kitchen and poured the cocoa down the drain. Reflecting on the long night they'd had with a final shrug, Bellatrix locked up the apartment and slipped into bed, snuggling up to Harry.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Rose and Leo arrived at the Potter home in Godric's Hollow, surprised to find the house empty. Almost immediately, however, James Potter and Sirius Black arrived, alerted by the wards set by James to notify him should anyone come to the house.

"Rose!" James barked, as relief, anger and fear warred for possession of his face. "Where in Merlin's bloody name have you been?"

"That's a long story," Rose replied with a deep sigh, holding her breath before quietly asking, "Is Mum okay?"

"Your mother and Mrs. Weasley will be all right," James replied with evident gratitude as relief won the fight for his facial expressions. "Are you and Leo all right?" he asked, noting Rose's injured face for the first time.

"Yes," Rose replied, lowering her chin to hide her wounds from her father's eyes.

"How did your face get injured?" James asked softly.

Leo took Rose's hand. "We were at Malfoy Manor setting off explosions, and she got too close to one of them."

"You were there?" Sirius exclaimed, astonished by the apparently outrageous size of Leo and Rose's foolish prank.

Rose nodded. "We helped carry out the rescue operation."

James and Sirius looked at one another and sighed, simultaneously saying, "Marauders." After a pause, Sirius asked, "How were you able to sneak in and get the portkey to Lily and Molly?"

James held up his hand to stop the conversation. "Let's get back to the Order before we have them tell the story." With that, James and Sirius side-along apparated their respective children to the house in Hogsmeade where several members of the Order remained, even though the safe return of Lily and Molly had obviated the rescue operation.

"Where did the portkey take Mum?" Rose asked as the two fathers and two teenagers made their way up the front walk.

"St. Mungo's," James said tersely. "The hospital staff provided some basic care, but your mother wanted to speak with Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible, so she and Molly made their way here."

"It was quite the surprise," Sirius chimed in, disbelief apparent in his voice. "We were waiting for more information about the situation before we could launch our own rescue."

"What did Mum say?" Rose asked guiltily as they walked into the house.

James shrugged. "You two showed up at home and tripped the wards before we could get the story."

The group entered the house to find a meeting of only the Order's most central members: Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Lily Potter, Alastor Moody, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Remus Lupin, and a few others Rose failed to recognize.

"It was them, all right," James announced.

"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore said pleasantly, "I should like to hear their story."

Rose cringed at this, and then hugged her mother tightly before exchanging greetings with the meeting's attendants. Although Sidra and John were there, Rose approached neither of her siblings. Sidra seemed clearly uneager for a reunion with Rose, in any case.

"Their story may actually be more interesting than you would think," James told everyone gathered. "Apparently, they were involved in the rescue."

This caused quite a stir, and it took a little bit before everyone calmed down enough for Dumbledore to regain control of the meeting. "This is a very interesting turn of events," he mused. "Perhaps we can allow Lily and Molly the chance to tell their story first, and then we'll hear from you two."

There was another interruption when the Weasley twins entered the house with Ginny Weasley in tow. "She just came home," Fred and George announced.

This caused another flurry of reactions, before Moody stepped up. "All right, everyone, settle down! Lily and Molly are going to tell us everything they know, the children will fill in the blanks, and then we will ask questions as we see fit. Got it?"

Intimidated by Moody, all those present silenced themselves.

Briefly, Molly Weasley recounted how they had gone to search for Rose, Leo, and Ginny before being ambushed by Death Eaters at 12 Grimmauld Place. Slightly tearful, she recounted her and Lily's interrogation by the Death Eaters, before Lily launched into her story about the apparent appearance of the ghost of Harry Ashworth before someone miraculously portkeyed her and Molly away.

"Thank you, Lily and Molly," Dumbledore said, "To recall that experience must have been very difficult." He then turned to the three teens who appeared deeply chagrined. Looking over the top of his half-moon spectacles and directly into Rose's bright green eyes he said, "We'd like you to shed light on anything you can."

"Right," Rose said nervously. Taking a deep breath and nodding to Ginny and Leo as she spoke for the trio, Rose offered an edited version of their communications and rendezvous with Lady Black late at night in Grimmauld Place, expurgating all references to the Dark Lord's diary. She knew that Leo in particular would be uncomfortable with this, but hoped that he wouldn't call her out on it, since she preferred to speak to Dumbledore about the diary in private, rather than reveal its existence in front of everyone from the Order.

"Basically," Rose summarized, "we were hoping to learn more about this Lady Black who was Kreacher's mistress and were hoping that she would tell us about Lord Black. Unfortunately, while we were meeting with her in the house, Mum and Mrs. Weasley showed up at about the same time a bunch of Death Eaters did, though thankfully, we ourselves were hidden from the Death Eaters. We would have done something at that point, but the Death Eaters had erected anti-apparation wards, and we were badly outnumbered, so our hands were tied. Lady Black then agreed to lead a rescue. Since we knew no one in the Order would allow us to help save our mothers—even though they'd been taken while looking for us—we arranged for Lady Black to send a patronus to Professor Dumbledore."

"The raven," Professor Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, who is this Lady Black?"

"It was Bellatrix," Lily interrupted keenly, "wasn't it?"

Startled, and robbed of momentum by Lily's pronouncement, Rose admitted simply, "Yes."

"So," said Moody, his voice tinged with astonishment and eagerness, "Harry Ashworth and Bellatrix Black are alive after all."

Dumbledore frowned. "It would seem that Miss Black is alive, but what about Mr. Ashworth?"

Rose sighed. "Bellatrix made us swear magical oaths not to discuss without her permission anything about Harry Ashworth, or anything we may or may not have seen, learned, or come to know about Harry Ashworth before, during, and after the rescue."

"You should never have sworn magical oaths like that," James said sternly.

Rose shrugged. "She had the upper hand. Besides, without Bellatrix's cooperation, I doubt that any of us could have successfully breached the wards around Malfoy Manor in time to pull off a rescue. Bellatrix was able to breach them easily."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Howsoever did she do that?" he asked with surprise.

"Bellatrix happens to own the old Malfoy family ring," Leo interjected. "She was able to use it to get us onto the property. From there, she sneaked into the manor while Rose and I prepared to set off explosions at the appropriate signal. I think you can all piece together the rest."

"Not quite," Lily said weakly. "What did Bellatrix do in the manor? Was she impersonating Ashworth?"

"We didn't manage to compare notes with her about how that part of the operation actually proceeded, but the original plan was for her to incapacitate her sister, take Polyjuice, and shove the portkey into your hands when everyone was distracted," Leo said.

Lily nodded slowly. "That's what she did then. The Narcissa I saw smirked at me. I thought it was out of character for her, and apparently, I was correct."

"Yeah, she does seem the type to smirk a lot," Rose observed. "She also likes to call people dimwits."

"That's my cousin, all right," Sirius chimed in.

"Any more questions?" Rose queried.

"Yes," said Moody, "what was Miss Weasley doing while Bellatrix was in the manor and you two were setting off explosions?"

Ginny winced, knowing that Leo's explanation had left her vulnerable to that particular question. Her hopes that no one would ask were dashed. "I . . . uh," she began.

Rose rescued her, however. "Ginny was assigned to help… summon the ghost of Harry Ashworth, I guess. Unfortunately, there isn't really anything she can tell you about it because of the magical oath we all took."

"Is there really nothing you can tell us?" Dumbledore asked of Ginny, leaning forward. Lily stared raptly at the Weasley daughter, hoping for some sort of elaboration on Harry Ashworth's status.

"Not really," Ginny said, disappointedly. "But I can give you this," she added, spitefully recalling her humiliating subjugation by Lady Black's curses while pulling a small, brightly colored cube out of her robes.

"A Rubik's cube?" Professor Flitwick said aloud, to the surprise of most in the room.

"Yes, that's what Bellatrix called it. But it's more than just a cube," Ginny said. "It's really a portkey, a dangerously amazing one, actually. Bellatrix told us only a little about how to use it, and warned us about some of its safeguards. She was supposed to take it from me," Ginny continued, recalling Bellatrix's jealous hiss at finding Ginny sitting next to Harry on the bed, "but she apparently forgot."

"If we tried to decode it," Leo added darkly, "she said it would drop us in the Scottish Highlands. Or maybe over the Atlantic."

"Fascinating," said Dumbledore warily. "Miss Weasley, please place it carefully upon the table in front of me. In fact, until I have a chance to safely probe the cube's defenses, no one should touch it." Turning to Rose and Leo, he asked, "Do either of you still have one?"

"Afraid not," Leo shrugged. "Since I can apparate, she said I didn't need one. And she definitely reclaimed the one she loaned to Rose."

"Filius," Dumbledore addressed his Charms professor, "you've seen one of these?"

Filius paused before responding, amazement plain on his face. "I discussed this idea—literally, this exact idea—a few weeks ago, with Miss Granger. She called it a 'polyvalent portkey,' which she proposed completing and submitting as part of her application for an advanced Charms apprenticeship."

The room grew silent for several moments as everyone digested Professor Flitwick's words. "Then perhaps you and I should examine this device together," said Dumbledore quietly to Filius. "Miss Granger may have some helpful insights, as well." Dumbledore looked up from the cube and met Lily Potter's bright green eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

Lily slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid we don't have one of those cubes, Professor," she said. "I recognized the portkey used on us, after the fact. It was a sock, one of the socks James turns into portkeys and stores in our study for emergency family use. Bellatrix probably got it from Rose." Lily turned to her youngest daughter, who nodded.

"For a dead man," Dumbledore added drily, "Harry Ashworth seems to have been the source of a most lively evening. Is there anything else any of you can tell us that might be useful?" Dumbledore asked, now addressing Rose and Leo. While Leo shook his head fairly emphatically, Rose simply stared at Dumbledore, briefly and subtly raising her eyebrows while she widened her eyes. "Indeed," Dumbledore finished, nodding at Rose almost imperceptibly, "then it would seem this meeting of the Order is adjourned."

"Wait a minute, Albus," Moody interrupted, turning himself to address Leo and Rose. "Can you two amateur hour aurors tell us how to contact Bellatrix? We need to speak with her as soon as possible. We also need to confirm her identity."

Rose and Leo looked at one another as both shrugged, somewhat miserably. "Send Kreacher with a message, I guess?" Leo suggested.

"Yeah, we already tried that," Sirius grumbled.

~!~!~!~!

Moody stumbled out of the fireplace and into Professor Dumbledore's office. He brushed off his winter cloak, removed it, and took a seat in front of the desk. "Has Snape arrived yet?" he inquired.

"I am still awaiting his report," Dumbledore said helping himself to a lemon drop and proffering the bowl to Moody, who declined more out of habit than conscious choice.

"I can only imagine how much trouble Miss Potter and Mr. Black are currently in," Moody mused, a faint grin threatening to invade his face.

"Yes," Dumbledore said absently, "they behaved rather recklessly." Although a skilled solicitor might lay all of the blame at my feet, Dumbledore thought to himself with dismay, as a function of my misguided focus on the wrong Miss Potter. "However, they have turned up important information for us. Bellatrix Black is alive, Harry Ashworth may be alive, and they likely are the subjects of the prophecy. Bellatrix, after all, is the daughter of Cygnus and the niece of Orion. The term 'daughter of the stars' fits her more comfortably than it does Sidra Potter. As for Harry Ashworth, it is not unreasonable to suppose that Orion or Cygnus may have made provision for him to take their place should they die. Romulus Malfoy apparently took a similar step when he gave Mr. Ashworth his family ring."

Moody nodded, already having made most of these assumptions himself, but pleased to find that he and Dumbledore were on the same page. "But where have they been all these years?"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Majorca, perhaps?"

"That sounds too simple of an explanation," Moody scoffed. "Maybe we should re-examine what we think we know. Nothing like a little time travel in the pensieve to clear the mind."

Before Dumbledore could reply, the fire turned green as Severus Snape arrived, presumably from where he had been spying on the Dark Lord. "Is Lily safe?" Snape inquired immediately.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, briefly explaining what the Order had learned from Rose, Leo, and Ginny before asking Snape what he had been able to learn in the aftermath of the rescue.

"Narcissa is somewhat sure that it was Bellatrix who attacked her," Snape informed Dumbledore and Moody.

"Somewhat sure?" Moody demanded. "Either it was her sister or it wasn't."

Snape shrugged, sitting down in the chair next to Moody and ignoring Dumbledore's motion to help himself to the lemon drop bowl. "I wasn't able to get Narcissa alone for a better explanation. All I know is that she refused to confirm for sure that it was Bellatrix. There was room for doubt in her mind."

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused. "How does Voldemort feel about the entire incident?"

"It was very unsettling for him," Snape said.

"I would think that having the ghost of a former victim of yours appear a couple of decades down the road would be unsettling," Moody laughed bitterly.

"Yes," Snape agreed. "However, the fact that it was the late Professor Ashworth seemed to be particularly unsettling for the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "Did he say why?"

"No," Snape said. "After a few minutes, the Dark Lord calmed down, but then the fire started."

"Fire?" Moody asked quickly.

"Yes," Snape said drily. "Someone saw fit to burn down the entire forest surrounding Malfoy Manor. They used fiendfyre. The Dark Lord believes that fiendfyre was, or perhaps is, Professor Ashworth's trademark spell—the spell he supposedly always used in confrontations. Professor Ashworth's 'personal touch' has the Dark Lord convinced that he might be alive. The Dark Lord has assigned every spare Death Eater to research Harry Ashworth. All other priorities have been bumped down."

Turning to Moody, Dumbledore mused, "Then it would seem, gentlemen, that our need to find Miss Black and ascertain Mr. Ashworth's status has grown even more urgent, Alastor."

"I'm on it," Moody declared.

~!~!~!~!

For Rose, the arrival of Professor Dumbledore and Alastor Moody on the Potter's front doorstep, asking to see her, came as a welcome relief. Her parents had grounded her for sneaking out at night—not that Rose wanted to leave her room. She felt guilty whenever she saw her mother, who was still suffering the after effects of her capture, while her father and two siblings were not talking to her.

Professor Dumbledore's demeanor was cheerful as it nearly always was as he took a seat at her desk while Mad-Eye paced the room, his magical eye spinning as it alternated between the door and window.

"Last night, you left me with the impression that you had more to tell," Dumbledore said, launching the topic of discussion after the exchange of pleasantries.

"Yes," said Rose slowly. "You may be wondering why it is that Bellatrix saw fit to meet us after we sent a communication to her via Kreacher, even though you had done the same."

"The question had crossed my mind," Dumbledore admitted.

"There is a rational explanation, but I would very much prefer if my parents never learned it," Rose told Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded. "As long as their lives are not endangered because they do not know of this, I am willing to not mention anything to them."

"It has to do with a diary," Rose began.

~!~!~!~!

Harry awoke slowly, studying at the clock on his nightstand. Ten o'clock, he thought, did I sleep all night? Harry then noticed Bellatrix, sitting at her dressing table, dressed in a sheer black silk nightgown and combing her long, straight, lustrous ebony locks. Glancing at a bedroom window, Harry saw a sky nearly as black as his wife's hair and realized he'd slept on the order of twenty-four hours.

Hearing her husband stir, Bellatrix rose from table and moved towards their bed, whereupon Harry discovered that the nearly black translucent nightgown was at that moment the only thing Bellatrix wore. Robbed of speech by her beauty, Harry at first simply stared at the sensuous form of his wife. Finally, blinking and shaking his head, his groggily asked, "Everything go okay?"

"The rescue went off without any trouble," Bellatrix told him simply. "However, there were some slight deviations in the plan."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Like you setting the bloody forest on fire!" Bellatrix snapped, now standing at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips.

Made more alert by the sudden sharpness of her tone, Harry responded defensively. "I thought it would make a nice statement to Tom."

Bellatrix then jerked off her nightgown in a huff, causing Harry to close his eyes for fear of losing the power of thought. Harry felt Bellatrix pull back the covers on the left side of the bed. "It made a great statement, I'm sure," Bellatrix hissed. "But, it left you completely incapacitated! You were defenseless. What if you had been attacked? What would have happened if that Weasley girl or the Longbottom boy had decided to slit your throat when they saw you weak?"

"Bella," Harry said slowly, opening his eyes to meet his wife's gaze, forcing himself to ignore the reaction her bare nearness irresistibly elicited. "Neville Longbottom is as good as they come, and I trust Ginny Weasley completely."

"Why is that?" Bellatrix demanded, as she closed the space between them. "Did she always bring you hot cocoa in bed when the two of you dated?"

Harry reflexively then turned on his left side to cuddle, before Bellatrix wrapped him in her arms and shifted to her right, pulling herself completely astride her husband, wrapping herself tightly around him. Now understanding the reasons for her sharp tone, Harry gently reached up, cupping Bellatrix's face with his hands, affection flooding the forefront of his mind as he deeply peered into her beloved violet eyes.

Bellatrix was again wearing her mask, her placidly expectant, almost haughty expression, making Harry smile to himself as he realized how well he had learned to read his young wife. Beneath her imperious exterior, Harry could clearly see insecurity and yearning, emotions betrayed by her faintly dilated pupils, her scarcely raised eyebrows, her scantly parted lips. The expression on Bellatrix's face could have probably frightened Ginny and Neville to death, but beneath that icy mask shivered vulnerability and want, of which Bellatrix herself was likely barely unaware. But Harry knew just what his bride needed to hear.

"The Ginny Weasley I once knew," Harry said deliberately, "was a smart, strong, skilled witch, who could be fearsome and fearless in defense of the people she loved." He gently pulled her face closer to his, now feeling the warm of her breath on his lips. "But the most talented, most powerful, most beautiful witch I've ever met already married me. I have no wish—ever—to share my bed with anyone else."

Bellatrix blushed as she closed her eyes, lips now parted as her breathing hitched, her fingers filled with Harry's unruly hair as she kissed him desperately. With urgency, Bellatrix tugged off Harry's pajamas, tossing tops and bottoms together heedlessly onto the bedroom floor. Harry felt himself grow almost drunk, lightheaded and dizzy with the bliss of his wife's kisses, fleetingly aware that he could no longer blame blood loss. Their eager hands dueled and danced, overmatching inexperience with perceptive dexterity, now nakedly vulnerable and rich with desire as Harry and Bellatrix surrendered, each to the other.

~!~!~!~!

Warily, Alastor Moody proceeded down the London street on which sat the lamppost he and Harry Ashworth had once used as a means of communication. He soon spotted the lamppost, and with his hand fingering his wand warily, he moved toward it, his eyes only barely darting to confirm that James Potter and Sirius Black were covering him.

Bellatrix Black had seen fit to respond to the Order's message, sent via Kreacher, and she had instructed Moody that he would find the location of the meeting on the lamppost, at precisely three in the afternoon. From there, he would be given directions to the meeting place. He would have to proceed to that place immediately, and she would meet him there. If he did not show by five minutes after the hour, she would be gone. Moody grudgingly gave her credit for her caution. The Order would not be able to stake out or otherwise inspect the meeting place prior to the meeting.

Moody arrived at the lamppost and examined it. The writing on the post was the same as it had been over twenty years previous. Scowling, Moody glanced at a clock in a storefront display and found that he still had a few minutes before the appointed time. Feeling awkward, Moody stood looking at the lamppost until three, when the writing abruptly changed, giving the name and location of a small tea shop in Glasgow.

"Smart," he growled, realizing that apparating to Glasgow would take time and magical energy. Working quickly with his five minute window, Moody used his wand to copy the information onto the sidewalk next to the lamppost, so that James and Sirius would be able to follow before apparating north to Scotland.

~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix sat in the tea shop with her back to the wall of the room's darkest corner—not that the room was all that dark. It was a ladies tea shop, after all. She smirked as she observed Alastor Moody warily enter the shop, hostilely eying the clientele who were fearfully staring at his magical eye. He picked his way across the room, fending off the attentions of the hostess, and sat down at Bellatrix's table—not across from her, but to her side, so that he too had a view of the entire room.

"Miss Black," he said gruffly, "or is it Mrs. Ashworth?"

Bellatrix smiled. "It's Mrs. Black, actually. Harry was, or perhaps even is, Mr. Black."

"So you married Mr. Ashworth, eh?" Moody said, glaring at a server who arrived to take his order.

Bellatrix smiled at the server and ordered a basic assortment of tea and sandwiches. When the server left, she continued the conversation. "I did marry him," she said. "As you may have guessed, we then assumed control of the House of Black's assets. You could say that was the main purpose of the marriage. The marriage contract provided that I would have sole power over the House of Black in the event that Harry should die."

"Did Harry die?" Moody asked.

"Define die," Bellatrix said, smiling because she knew that Moody would be irritated.

Moody thumped the table. "How about you cooperate with me?"

"I am cooperating," Bellatrix retorted. "I am sitting here enduring your questions, aren't I?"

"Did you kill Walburga Black," Moody asked suddenly.

"No," Bellatrix said. "I did confront her and order Kreacher to not allow her to leave the house. I intended to milk her for any information I could get on the Dark Lord. Annoyingly, the old biddy did herself in."

"Where have you been for all of these years?" Moody inquired.

Bellatrix shrugged. "The years passed by in a blur. To be honest, I cannot account for my whereabouts."

"What did you do? Overdose on potions? Get locked up in the St. Walpurgis Magical Maladies Ward?"

Bellatrix was not amused. "Why did you want to meet with me?"

"I'm here to tell you that Dumbledore wants to meet with you and discuss things," Moody said.

"You could have relayed that via Kreacher," Bellatrix snapped.

"You are perceptive," Moody said, complimenting her, albeit a little bit backhandedly. "I'm mostly here to confirm your identity prior to us arranging a meeting between you and Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, here I am," Bellatrix said. "What more proof do you need?"

"Perhaps you could explain why it is you still appear to be only seventeen or eighteen years old at the most," Moody suggested. "If you really were Bellatrix Black, you would be about forty years old by now."

Bellatrix quirked a small smile. "The potions I overdosed on were of the de-aging variety. I was obsessed with maintaining my youthful appearance."

"Don't feed me that tripe!" Moody barked. "I can see that your body is still underdeveloped as if you were still in the very late stages of puberty. De-aging potions aren't that good."

"The maladies ward had the most wonderful skin care spa," Bellatrix continued, seemingly oblivious to Moody's anger.

"How many times did you kick Lucius Malfoy in the crotch before I stopped you, the last time I saw you and Harry Ashworth?" Moody demanded.

"It was Rodolphus Lestrange, dimwit," Bellatrix retorted. "And the answer is once."

"Very good," Moody said, desperately trying to think of obscure questions to which only he and Bellatrix would know the answers. However, he had not associated with her often enough to provide him material, so he came up dry.

"Maybe you can tell me why he's already on the loose," Bellatrix said.

"Bureaucrats," Moody grumbled absently. "I need more proof of your identity," he told her.

"Do you trust the verification methods of Gringotts?" Bellatrix asked.

Moody rubbed his chin. "Yes, at least as far as it relates to disbursement of money."

"Good," Bellatrix said, grabbing her purse and removing her wallet from inside. She wrote out a bank draft, payable to Moody and then handed it to him. "Cash that and buy yourself something nice. It should establish that I am Bellatrix Black and that I have control over the Black assets." She then removed some Muggle cash from her wallet and set it on the table just as the server returned with the tea and sandwiches.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Moody asked.

"It would be far more fun to imagine you eating alone at this table in a ladies tea shop," Bellatrix replied. "We'll make arrangements for my interview with Professor Dumbledore via Kreacher," she told him before leaving the restaurant.

~!~!~!~!~!

Moody sat at the table contemplating the tea and sandwiches. He was not alone for long, however. James Potter and Sirius Black joined him after Bellatrix had been gone for a few minutes. Sirius grabbed one of the sandwiches and scarfed it down.

"Looked like Bella to me," he commented. "She's the mirror image of the Bella I knew back then."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Moody groused, taking a sandwich and prying the bread apart. Unable to overcome his suspicion, he left it that way on the plate, having decided not to eat it. "That woman could be an imposter going off a photograph from Bellatrix's school days."

He picked up the bank draft Bellatrix had left and examined it. It was made from a stiff, gray parchment. Above the Black family crest was inscribed the phrase, "The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black." Beneath the inscription for the amount of twenty galleons was Bellatrix's signature. It was a well-practiced signature. Indeed, aside from the two B's of Bellatrix Black, there was little that was readable, except for maybe the 'x.' However, beneath the signature line, the bank draft's security protections had recognized the signature and proclaimed it as belonging to Bellatrix.

"Let's get over to Gringotts and cash this," Moody declared.

"Sure thing," Sirius said as he and James gathered up the sandwiches and prepared to depart.

30. Chasing a Ghost

Chapter 29

By

Lord Silvere & Gilgameshone

Hermione perfunctorily reached out and picked up the Rubik's cube portkey that Bellatrix Black had neglected to reclaim from Ginny Weasley after the assault on Malfoy Manor. The bright young muggleborn shrugged defensively when she saw Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick wince at her lack of caution. "If Ginny was able to carry it around without any trouble," Hermione said as she began to examine the cube. "I doubt there are any curses on it that would react, especially here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, well, you do seem to be all right," Flitwick observed, perched on one of the chairs in Professor Dumbledore's office. "It does seem to be exactly like the portkey you proposed making, does it not?"

Hermione nodded and pulled out her wand, wordlessly casting a charm on the portkey. "That should keep it from taking me somewhere should I accidentally say a trigger word," she said quietly. She then began twisting the cube into various designs whilst casting diagnostic spells, analyzing an apparent prototype for the selfsame charms thesis project she'd proposed to Flitwick only weeks earlier.

Next, under the watchful eyes of her professors, Hermione laid her wand atop Dumbledore's desk, and began twisting and turning the cube with both hands, methodically solving Rubik's puzzle. Finally, smirking almost imperceptibly, Hermione restored each of the cube's six sides to its baseline monochromatic state, returning the cube to the top of Dumbledore's desk before retrieving her wand. Performing a few final diagnostic charms on the cube, she allowed herself a small smile.

"Something interesting?" Dumbledore inquired, leaning forward while alternating his gaze between Hermione and the cube.

"The spellwork on the Rubik's cube is quite rough," she declared.

"We observed that," Flitwick offered quietly.

Hermione nodded. "Of course you did," she acknowledged. "However, you probably think the spellwork is rough in that it is a prototype fresh from the drawing board and that the maker was toying with it in an attempt to improve it."

She placed the portkey down on Dumbledore's desk. "I would suggest that it is rough either because someone wanted a multi-destination portkey and simplistically fashioned one from this cube or because someone had prior experience with a multi-destination Rubik's cube portkey and attempted to make a crude imitation. Seeing as that sort of portkey is not on the market, I would guess the former is the situation."

"I see," said Dumbledore, glancing at the portkey.

"What makes you so sure that it is either a simplistic solution or a crude imitation?" Flitwick asked.

Hermione gestured to the cube still sitting solved atop the desktop. "First of all, the cube has only charms that are strictly necessary for it to function. In light of modern advances in portkey arithmancy, travel via this portkey would seem clumsy and exceedingly uncomfortable. The person who made this was no arithmancer, and certainly not a professional."

"Furthermore," she continued, "in my more developed plan of the portkey, resolving the Rubik's cube to this monochromatic, solved state provides baseline, root-level access to its layered charm scheme, giving the user fairly fine control over the portkey's functions. In this portkey, the charms aren't layered atop one another but rather crammed next to each other. That suggests to me that the person who manufactured the portkey takes no joy from solving the Rubik's cube's puzzles. Thus, the person probably does not have an analytic mind. This wizard or witch was acting out of their element."

"Hence, while my proposed cube could be completely reprogrammed, this cube's functions are rigidly fixed. For example, I detected no more than a dozen programmed destinations. Similarly, the security wards I propose for my cube depend significantly upon deduction and subtlety, whereas the wards on this cube appear to be simple password wards, which function on the basis of pure brute force. The idea to make it was original, granted, but it was simplistically executed," Hermione concluded.

"Simplistic as it is," Flitwick mused, "it could still be the work of a more professional spell crafter."

"Yes," Hermione retorted, "except for my final observation. The crafter of the cube should have used a spell based on the Alternative Variances Theorem to allow the several programmed destination protocols to draw on the common portkey spell source as a matter of course."

Flitwick frowned and glanced at the cube with squinted eyes. "The cube doesn't work that way?"

Hermione shook her head. "It would appear that for a programmed destination to activate, the main charm on that destination has to overpower the other spells it would normally clash with. The maker cast the spells for the programmed destinations with a great deal more power than was used for the other spells on the portkey—apparently for this very purpose. It was clever, but clumsy.

Dumbledore seemed impressed by Hermione's inferences. "Well done, Miss Granger," he said, eyes twinkling on cue as he provided Hermione with both the acknowledgement she so often seemed to crave as well as reassurance about the relevance of her own research. "I daresay you need not fear that your own proposal has been rendered useless. I expect you will be able to create a prototype far more advanced than this one."

Smiling brightly, Hermione thanked her professors for bringing her into their council, excusing herself and standing as the rumble of the moving stone staircase, acting as the password warded door to the Headmaster's office, heralded the arrival of Alastor Moody and Lily Potter. While Mad-Eye scowled from habit, Lily nodded to first Flitwick—who had followed Hermione's cue and also stood to leave—and then to her fellow brilliant muggleborn witch. Seeing the big smile on the face of her pseudo protégé, Lily raised her eyebrows and rhetorically queried Hermione, "So I guess that means you'll be able to proceed with your charms proposal, after all?" Beaming, Hermione nodded before descending on the stone stairs with her Charms professor.

Now alone with Alastor and Lily, Dumbledore allowed the twinkle to fade from his eyes. He stood up wearily from his desk, exchanging greetings with the witch and wizard, before walking to the cabinet that contained his Pensieve. Removing the Pensieve from the cabinet, he said leadingly, "I have already been reviewing my memories of Harry Ashworth."

"You found something?" Lily asked, hopeful.

"Precious little, I am afraid," Dumbledore sighed, walking back to the desk upon which he placed the Pensieve. "Most of the memories I reviewed and refreshed held only information of which I have long been consciously aware. As such, the only thing that really stuck out to me was something he said in passing on the day I released him from the staff."

"Oh?" Moody asked in genuine surprise. Having been in Dumbledore's close confidence during the years Ashworth had been at Hogwarts, Moody figured he knew everything about Ashworth that Dumbledore did.

"I told Mr. Ashworth that he might one day be able to come back and teach at Hogwarts," Dumbledore told Moody and Lily. "He responded by saying that Defense Against the Dark Arts was his stronger area."

Lily pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I can't honestly say he was a brilliant Potions professor."

"Indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Before we view the memories you two have of Ashworth, I have prevailed upon Severus to provide me one of his memories. I think you will find it interesting."

Professor Dumbledore gestured for them to enter the Pensieve, and he followed. They viewed Harry Ashworth's conversation with Severus Snape on the night that he had attempted to help Narcissa run away from Hogwarts. In it, they witnessed Ashworth berate Snape harshly, telling him that he would never really be one of the purebloods and of the horrible things the Death Eaters would do to the innocent. Before long, they exited the memory.

"That is a side of Ashworth I never quite saw," Moody said faintly.

Briefly, Lily explained the situation as she remembered it and summarized her own interview with Ashworth that night. "He was quite displeased," Lily concluded.

Dumbledore sat down in his chair. "It is a valuable memory. It reveals a little of what was behind Harry Ashworth's mask. In my review of my memories, I almost never saw Ashworth express raw, uninhibited emotion. He was not necessarily an actor by any stretch of the imagination, but he would have made an excellent Poker player."

"Poker?" Moody asked, sounding both confused and suspicious.

"Forget I said it," Dumbledore said. "The point is that in an unguarded moment, Ashworth displayed that he unequivocally opposes Lord Voldemort. That is reassuring."

"But only if Harry Ashworth is alive," Lily pointed out. "As far as we know, we're dealing with Bellatrix. Regardless of how much goodness there is in her—and goodness knows there may not be overly much—she is about as mercenary as you get."

"But is also completely dedicated to Harry Ashworth," Dumbledore countered.

Having listened silently, Moody finally spoke. "Have any of you noticed that Ashworth bears a striking resemblance to James?"

Reflexively, Lily opened her mouth to deny the resemblance, but then stopped as Harry Ashworth's appearance materialized in her mind. "I guess there is a bit of a resemblance," she said, realizing for the first time how much her former professor resembled her husband.

"Perhaps the result of pureblood relations?" Dumbledore mused, removing a pair of vials from a desk drawer. "He may even be related to the Potter line. Now, if you two would be so kind to deposit your own memories of Ashworth here, we can proceed."

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix threw herself out of the path of a stunner and straight into a repelling charm. It propelled her through the air, and she collided with the ground. A familiar trickle in her nose told her that she was bleeding.

Because dodging all of Harry's spells seemed rarely to be an option, Bellatrix often found herself having to pick which hex she thought she could take and keep fighting. Thus, she had chosen pain over unconsciousness and the end it would bring to the duel. She hated short duels, almost as much as she hated easy ones.

That said, although Bellatrix remained consistently grateful for Harry's skills, and increasingly convinced of the wisdom she displayed when she decided to make him her mate, Bellatrix was also intermittently annoyed by Harry's prowess, since it meant she very rarely won their duels. In fact, only after Bellatrix forced Harry to stop holding back on her during their practice duels did she realize how truly formidable he was. Harry's spell repertoire remained slightly more limited than hers, but he learned to cast new spells very, very quickly. While the projection and phoenix fire spells with which she'd previously challenged him had taken him some time and effort to master, Bellatrix had not yet taught herself to cast either. By contrast, Harry's ability to learn from her spells she could already cast seemed almost instantaneous. Moreover, the speed of his reflexes rivaled the speed with which he acquired spells. His ability to abruptly change direction while spinning and weaving away from her spellfire reminded Bellatrix of a quidditch seeker. Add to that his raw power, and Bellatrix found herself crossing wands with the greatest duelist she had ever faced. But forcing him to stop going easy on her had taken some effort, indeed.

At first, when Bellatrix and Harry resumed their practice duels following her husband's prolonged convalescence, every spell Harry cast at her seemed so underpowered that Bellatrix feared that the injury Harry suffered to propel them both through time had permanently damaged his magical core. Watching Harry run through complements of difficult and draining spells, however, Bellatrix quickly realized that Harry was in truth back at his full magical strength—if anything, he seemed to be even more powerful after his convalescence that he had been before it—causing Harry's wife to grow more and more annoyed with her husband's kid gloved approach to their duels.

Initially, when her admonitions to Harry to challenge her elicited insufficient response, Bellatrix began throwing the magical kitchen sink at her husband during their duels. Harry bobbed, dodged, shielded, and disapparated throughout the long abandoned RAF hanger which Bellatrix had purchased and warded specifically for the purpose of training with her husband.

Still, Harry kept lobbing softballs at his wife, albeit almost apologetically. Noting that Harry's reticence seemed to increase after evenings of lovemaking, Bellatrix even considered withholding physical intimacy to make Harry frustrated and angry, but had to admit to herself, protestations aside, that she enjoyed their sex life every bit as much as Harry did.

So Bellatrix Black decided to switch tactics. Towards the end of yet another softball duel with Harry, Bellatrix stepped deliberately into the path of one of Harry's marshmallow banishers. Although the spell was barely stronger than a stiff breeze, Bellatrix cried and fell to the floor. Harry then rushed to his wife's side. As he crouched down beside her, turning her on her back to assess her level of consciousness and degree of injury, Bellatrix slapped Harry's face with all the force she could muster. Harry was shocked speechless—Bellatrix was not.

"So," Bellatrix began, her voice both cold and angry, "what do you think the vile men who form the core of Riddle's Death Eaters would do to me if they incapacitated me during a duel? What would Rodolphus—a man whose bed I spurned for yours—do? What would his brother Rabastan do? What would any twisted Death Eater have done to Lily Potter, or to Molly Weasley?"

Bellatrix paused briefly, forcing Harry to face the full weight of her words.

"Your misguided unwillingness to treat me like an equal on this friendly little battlefield," she continued, getting on her feet as she gestured at the space of the hangar, "might someday cause my death, or even expose me to tender mercies worse than death, at the hands of Riddle himself. If you love me," she briefly paused again, placing a passionate kiss on Harry's lips before adding, "and I believe that you do, then stop treating me like some goddamned flower. As you yourself have said, I'm the most powerful witch you've ever faced on the field of battle. Start treating me like it."

Throughout Bellatrix's monologue, and even her kiss, Harry's face had remained impassive, as if he were still stunned. Staring briefly into his bride's violet eyes, Harry then turned and slowly strode back towards his side of the hanger. Spinning suddenly to face Bellatrix after walking twenty odd feet, Harry wordlessly waved his wand, instantly suffusing the hangar with blindingly bright light.

Now blinded herself, Bellatrix recalled the dueling instincts drilled ruthlessly into her reflexes during training with her uncle Orion. Twisting her torso to the left to dodge the follow-up spell Harry was sure to send her way, Bellatrix nonetheless found herself spun around and knocked to the floor by an overpowered banisher which barely grazed her shoulder as it sizzled through the air to explode against the floor of the hangar behind her.

Correctly expecting Harry to cast at the spot where she landed, Bellatrix rolled to her right as Harry's spells punched the floor beside her, quickly crouching before wordlessly unleashing a deafening sonic pulse from the tip of her own wand. Using the noise to mask her apparation, Bellatrix disapparated behind Harry, still trying to blink away the spots that filled her eyes as she urgently waved her wand to throw a fireball at Harry. She'd nearly completed her incantation when she heard her husband yell "Expelliarmus!" As she felt her wand fly from her grasp, Bellatrix also felt herself flung violently backwards, losing consciousness as she collided with the floor.

The warm, rich fragrance of violet bouquets filled Bellatrix's nostrils as she slowly regained consciousness. As her eyes fluttered slowly open, Bellatrix found herself looking at the face of her beloved, his expression pained even as he warmly smiled at his wife. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor near Bellatrix's head, to her right, cradling her head in his lap while stroking her long ebon locks, curling strands of hair around the fingers of his right hand, resting his left hand gingerly atop her forehead. As Harry helped Bellatrix sit up, placing a soft kiss on her moist lips, Bellatrix noticed that the floor of the hangar was entirely covered with violet petals.

"You were right, Bellatrix," Harry said softly, "I was being selfish. It hurts me to hurt you, but by sparing myself that pain I was placing you at greater risk." He paused, smirking almost imperceptibly even as he smiled. "I'll respect your wishes and try to kick your arse every time we duel." Harry then held Bellatrix tightly, pressing his right cheek against hers and crushing her bosom against his chest as he spoke still more softly into her ear. "But how I tend any wounds I may inflict is entirely up to me."

From that day forward, Harry always dueled Bellatrix fiercely, as if she were every bit the skilled and powerful witch he remembered. But fortunately, despite her instruction to not to hold back, Harry never used inherently lethal spells against her, even though she used them against him. In a perverse sort of way, Bellatrix enjoyed throwing the nastiest spells she could at Harry because she knew he would repel them—she would help him get better at repelling them. And because it provided her with the bittersweet pleasure of being able to do something Harry could not, albeit by choice.

To further reign in her frustration, Bellatrix also rationalized her constant defeats with the thought that, although Harry was a much better duelist, she herself was by no means a poor one. After all, from conversations she had had with him about the future, she knew that she had the potential ability to fight against him nearly toe to toe. He had also said that she was the most powerful witch he had ever known. That meant that if she could only get to the point where her chance of beating Harry in a duel was close to fifty-fifty, she could easily believe that she had realized her potential to be better than any other witch. But what about wizards? she realized. Harry had never told her how she stacked up to other wizards he had known.

Pushing these fleeting thoughts from her mind and returning her mind to the present, however, Bellatrix rolled away from the point of her collision with the floor, heaving herself up as quickly as she could while ignoring the pain in her nose and the blood steadily trickling down her face. Harry was standing in a dueling pose, already preparing to cast another spell, but Bellatrix knew that the blood on her face now caused him to hesitate. Realizing that he might choose to end the duel now that she was injured, Bellatrix lashed out with her wand to prevent it. If he was busy defending himself, he could hardly call an end to the duel. A shower of small purple orbs laced with black sparks of energy sprayed from her wand and converged on Harry, spinning around him almost like a tornado.

Bellatrix knew that Harry was familiar with this spell, but she loved watching him overcome it. Harry whirled, his wand pointed from him. Once the point of wand had travelled in a complete circle around Harry's position, leaving an orange bubble around him, he drew the wand in and stabbed it down toward the ground. Yellow spellfire marked a shockwave that exploded and pushed the orange shield outward. The expanding shield met the purple orbs and Harry was engulfed in an explosion of yellow, orange, and purple light.

Bellatrix shot half a dozen spells into the cloud and heard them bounce off another shield spell. She then aimed at the ground and shouted "Reducto!" The ground upon which Harry had been standing exploded.

Suddenly, Bellatrix felt an arm wrap around her torso, catching her wand arm and pinning it down. The point of Harry's wand poked her neck and she heard him whisper, "Stupefy."

When Bellatrix awoke, she was, as usual, lying on the ground amidst a sea of violets. Touching her face, Bellatrix realized that Harry had scourgified the blood from her nose and repaired the break. Still, Harry stared into her eyes, concern written on his face. "I'm fine," Bellatrix said, disappointment clear in her voice.

"I know, Bella," Harry said, smiling down at her. "It's just that I have a hard time dueling with you when you're actively bleeding."

Bellatrix sat up. "We can continue."

"We could," Harry admitted, "but I think we've had enough."

Bellatrix suspected that he really meant she had had enough. She had come to realize that Harry hated to see her either tired or injured. "Maybe you could practice phoenix fire," Bellatrix suggested hopefully. "It may be the most useful spell you know."

"Yes," admitted Harry, "but quite exhausting."

"You said that now that you could do it without having to cast the image projection to see where you were going that it was better," Bellatrix said.

"True," Harry said.

Rather than try to argue with him, Bellatrix put an expectant look on her face and stared at Harry. Eventually he gave in. He picked up his wand, closed his eyes, and in a burst of flame disappeared. Bellatrix sat for several moments alone in their cavernous hangar. Eventually, another burst of flame heralded Harry's return, several feet from Bellatrix.

Harry trudged over and sat down next to her. "Well, I think that does it. I'm exhausted."

"Is there any chance that you could take me along when you use phoenix fire?" Bellatrix asked after they had sat silently for several minutes.

"I don't know," Harry said. "Maybe we'll have to try sometime."

~!~!~!~!~!

"It is not our lack of effort, Director," Rufus Scrimgeour argued vehemently. "You-Know-Who's attacks have increased in the recent months. With the population spread out so thinly across Britain, each call we respond to consumes more and more time. That, combined with the policy to have a minimum amount of aurors guarding the Ministry at all times during all shifts, means that we do not have the resources to respond to every attack."

"People are dying and, worse, being terrorized," Director Crouch barked, slamming his fist on the conference table that sat in the room next to his office in the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "If we cannot protect them, they will turn to You-Know-Who."

Scrimgeour rose to his feet. "What would you have us do?" he demanded angrily.

Frank Longbottom, an auror captain, took a deep breath, wondering whether he should intervene in the discussion. In point of fact, he had little to say, but clearly, the situation called for calm. The Auror Corps could ill afford any further loss of unity. At that very moment, however, the Office of the Minister made Frank's decision for him as a ministerial functionary entered the room and drew the attention of its occupants by clearing his throat.

"Yes, Weatherby?" Director Crouch barked, glaring at Percy Weasley.

"The Minister wishes to speak with Captain Longbottom," Percy announced rather stiffly.

"Fine," Crouch growled, waving his hand in a semi-offensive manner toward the Minister's favored grandchild and chief errand boy.

Hiding a smirk, Frank rose. Nodding to his fellow auror commanders, he then exited the conference room on Percy Weasley's heels as Crouch continued berating the leaders of the Auror Corps. He had seen criminals give aurors the bird with less contempt than Crouch had used in motioning toward Percy. Crouch treated most people the same way, but it was somehow satisfying to see the Weasley boy on the receiving end.

Frank was grateful for the opportunity to escape the weekly briefing, but suspected that he might be headed somewhere worse. Minister Prewitt rarely lavished praise upon his subordinates, and in Frank's experience had never called any subordinate to his private office for the sake of simple pleasantries. Mentally preparing for his encounter with Prewitt, Frank reached the soundless mausoleum of cold, dark marble halls that housed the Minister's office, scarcely noting the concurrent loss of his nepotistic escort, Percy. Given security concerns, the only people now allowed on the floor—in addition to Minister Prewitt—were his closest assistants and advisors, along with the Minister's elite detail of auror bodyguards.

As such, Frank first had to pass through two separate security checks before gaining entrance to the reception area, whereupon he was instructed to swear a magical oath that he was in fact Frank Longbottom, that he had always in fact been Frank Longbottom, and that in fact he meant no harm to Davian Prewitt. Finally, after placing atop the reception desk both his primary personal wand and the secondary tactical wand he carried as an active duty auror, Frank Longbottom entered the Minister's office.

Minister Prewitt sat at his desk—evidently preoccupied as he scribbled upon and sifted through several voluminous rolls of parchment—flanked by two aurors who stood with wands drawn. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood to Prewitt's right, while Amelia Bones stood to Prewitt's left. At the Minister's absently gestured invitation, Frank took a seat in front of the desk and crossed his legs, taking care to make his movements seem leisurely. Neither Bones and nor Shacklebolt was known as a jumpy auror, but visitors to the Minister had been accidently injured by zealous bodyguards in the past.

Sitting in silence at the Minister's pleasure, Frank glanced soberly at the panoply of portraits adorning the walls of Prewitt's office. Some of the portraits were fairly large, while others were mere miniatures. A number of the portraits featured historical figures. But most of the portraits depicted witches and wizards who had died at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Many of the portraits hung in silence, motionless, the inanimate visages of magicals in the very bloom of youth, murdered unexpectedly and absurdly, having made no provisions for the type of standard magical portrait often commissioned by mature, successful witches and wizards.

Given the morbidly related popularity of magical photography, Frank wagered that snapshots of most of these young magicals could be found in family photo albums and friends' scrapbooks. In fact, by unspoken agreement, those members of the Order friendly with one another often took photos of each other, tacitly acknowledging the mortal peril in which Order members placed themselves. (Frank had noticed that his muggleborn friend Lily Porter sighed sadly and darkly whenever a new member of the Order arrived at a social function bearing a brand new magical camera, whispering quietly to herself about something called "Kodak moments," whatever that meant.)

Frank was sure that Minister Prewitt could have secured copies of magical photos for most of these dead magicals, respecting the fact that Prewitt chose instead to surround himself with mute, unmoving witnesses to the war he had prosecuted for two decades—albeit with scant success—against Voldemort's forces. Accustomed to the animated portraits common in the wizarding world, Frank himself found the frozen portraits haunting, with none more so than that of the late Minister Black. Black's was the largest of the frozen portraits, and was mounted on the wall behind Prewitt's desk. Day in and day out, Frank mused, Minister Black gazed down on Minister Prewitt sadly, staring quietly along with all the others in their own silent portraits. Frank wondered whether Minister Prewitt pitied them or whether they pitied Minister Prewitt. Perhaps they drove the Minister—aged beyond his years—forward.

The sound of the Minister clearing his throat with evident impatience returned Frank to the present.

"Longbottom?" Prewitt croaked caustically.

"What? Sorry. Lost in thought," Frank said hastily, eying Bones and Shacklebolt who looked as if they were wondering whether or not a Death Eater could have subjected Frank to the Imperius Curse and somehow had gotten him past the checkpoints. Making sure to keep his arms relaxed and his hands in plain sight, Frank cleared his own throat. "What can I do for you, Minister?" he asked.

"Tell me what you were doing in the DMLE records room yesterday afternoon," Minister Prewitt demanded, his eyes boring into Frank's with intensity.

"The records room?" Frank asked, making his voice sound slightly confused—just as he had rehearsed previously.

"Yes," Minister Prewitt said impatiently. "You were in the records room yesterday."

"Well, yes," Frank said, eyeing Prewitt's desk. On it sat a familiar folder. "I visit the records room often as a matter of course. It is a routine part of any investigation involving a repeat offender."

"A repeat offender such as Harry Ashworth?" Prewitt barked.

"Well, no," Frank said, staring at the Ashworth file that sat in the precise center of the desk. "The thing is that as one goes through these files in repeat offender investigations, one becomes familiar with the people in the files. I saw the Ashworth name, did not recognize it, and took a quick peek to see who he was. Now I know."

"Who were you looking up when you happened to spot Harry Ashworth's file?" Prewitt asked.

This was where Moody, Potter, and Black had disagreed on the best approach should Longbottom be questioned. If Frank's visit had been routine, he should not remember anything. Being able to produce the name off a file he had only glanced at for a moment would be suspicious. On the other hand, trying to pretend he could not remember anything would be what a less clever snoop would do. And yet, the fewer details he appeared to remember, the briefer his grilling by the Minister might be.

"I don't remember," Longbottom said, shrugging. "Besides, what does some Australian who died twenty years ago have to do with anything?" he asked, deliberately referring to Ashworth as an Australian in an attempt to leave the impression that he had not looked closely enough at the file to read its proclamation that Harry Ashworth's identity papers had been false, and yet, strangely, the Ministry had issued him new, genuine papers.

"He wasn't Australian," Prewitt growled, sounding rather like a spurned lover. "He didn't even have an Australian accent, for Merlin's sake."

"Eh, okay," Frank said. He knew that, too. Professor Dumbledore and other Order members had placed every memory they had of Harry Ashworth into a Pensieve. Over the past days, they had examined each memory closely, cataloging every fact about the wizard that might be relevant.

There was silence for several moments until the door opened to admit the auror who had come to relieve Amelia Bones of duty. Now staring back at the top of his desk in thought, Prewitt gestured at the door absentmindedly as he grumbled dismissals to Bones and Longbottom both. Following the speedy and seamless changing of the guard, Frank and Amelia left the office together, walking in silence before entering the lift.

"So, Frank," Amelia asked as the lift doors closed, " is Harry Ashworth alive?"

"Is that what the Minister was wondering?" Frank retorted.

"Yes," Amelia replied. "I'm wondering, too."

Frank shrugged. "It was just a name that caught my eye," he protested.

Right eyebrow raised incredulously, Amelia favored Frank with her infamous interrogation room stare. "Longbottom."

"Does the Minister want Ashworth to be alive or dead?" Frank asked.

"Frank. Longbottom."

Frank sighed. "I do not know whether Harry Ashworth is alive or dead. That is the truth. I am not acquainted with anyone who knows the answer to that question."

Amelia now glared at Frank with narrowed eyes. "Someone in your little Order must think he's alive."

Frank shrugged. "Does the Minister want Ashworth to be alive or dead?" he asked, genuinely curious. The Order had not assigned him to discover that tidbit of information, even when they had contemplated the possibility that opening Ashworth's file would trigger alarms.

The lift clanged to a halt and the door opened. Amelia held Frank's gaze, even as her expression morphed from suspicious to dispassionate. "Both," she said before stepping off and walking down the hall.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix forced herself to maintain a smirk on her face as Minerva McGonagall led her through Hogwarts Castle towards Professor Dumbledore's office. Occasionally, Bellatrix discerned the voices of students who had either stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays or had returned to school early, even though they remained out of sight. It seemed that McGonagall was deliberately leading Bellatrix to the Headmaster's office via a circuitous route, designed to keep Bellatrix from coming into contact with any of the students. Bellatrix could see the wisdom in what McGonagall was doing. Didn't think the old girl had an ounce of Slytherin in her, Bellatrix mused with amusement.

Shortly, as they arrived at the famed entrance to the Headmaster's Office, McGonagall uttered the password of the week. "Sour pops."

Bellatrix arched her eyebrows before proceeding up the moving staircase. Noting with some surprise that the Deputy Headmistress had not accompanied her, Bellatrix dropped the smirk from her face in favor of her baseline dispassionate façade. She and Harry had agreed that they did not need to ask Dumbledore for anything—mostly. A close examination of Tom Riddle's diary had revealed one thing they did need to go forward. But with luck, she could walk out of the meeting with Dumbledore thinking she had done him a favor, rather than him believing she had come to him for help. In any case, Harry and Bellatrix could play hard-to-get.

Arriving at the top of the staircase, Bellatrix passed through the door to Dumbledore's office to find the Headmaster seated behind his desk, surveying her over his half-moon spectacles. "Mrs. Black," he said politely, motioning for her to have a seat in front of his desk.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Bellatrix replied placidly, sitting down and staring into the bowl of lemon drops speculatively before allowing her eyes to move across the desk. Aside from the lemon drop bowl, Dumbledore's desktop held nothing more than a familiar Rubik's cube. The one I forgot to take away from that hussy, no doubt.

Dumbledore and Bellatrix sat silently surveying one another for several moments—each of the self-styled master strategists waiting for the other to cave in and begin the conversation. Bellatrix smiled coyly and leaned back in her chair. She would not break. After all, he certainly had more questions than she did.

"It has been a long while since we crossed paths," Dumbledore said tactically, allowing Bellatrix her small victory.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I suppose it has."

"I don't suppose you would care to explain where you have been," Dumbledore said, indirectly positing a question.

A small smile quirked on Bellatrix's lips as Bellatrix remembered her conversation with Moody. "The years passed by in a blur," she said.

Dumbledore sighed internally and then audibly as he attempted another tactical shift. "I am quite sure that if you focus on the blur, "Dumbledore said sternly, banishing all traces of grandfatherly twinkle from his eyes, "you can give me a better answer."

Bellatrix stared off into space. "I see teacups . . . large teacups . . . moving in circles . . . always moving. And I hear something about a, uh . . . a small world."

Dumbledore again sighed internally, struck by the absurdity and obscurity of her reference. "For some reason, I cannot see you living among the Muggles, Mrs. Black."

"It was a magical place," Bellatrix said dreamily, her violet eyes dancing with vicious mirth.

Frustrated to find himself at another dead end, the Headmaster pursed his lips and picked up the Rubik's cube. "Seeing as you do not care to speak of whereabouts, perhaps you could enlighten me on this little artifact."

Bellatrix looked at it and shrugged. "It is a portkey. What more do you want to know?"

"A portkey capable of being reused to visit multiple destinations," Dumbledore clarified.

"I suppose so," Bellatrix admitted, still leaning back casually in her chair.

"If I may ask," Dumbledore inquired, recommitting himself to tactical politeness, "where did you come by it?"

"Harry bought a bunch from some Muggle toy store—probably right after you fired him. He put some spells on them, and they have been lying around ever since then," Bellatrix explained. "You can keep that one, of course," she added skeptically, in no hurry to repossess an object upon which the Order could have placed their own clever little charms.

"Thank you," Dumbledore replied with tactful graciousness.

"You're welcome," Bellatrix said with equivalent magnanimousness. "If that is all you wanted, I should probably get going."

"I would rather you did not," Dumbledore requested. "I should like to discuss three subjects, namely Tom Riddle's diary, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, and the riddle of Harry Ashworth himself."

"I see no need to discuss any of that," Bellatrix responded lightly.

"I am asking you to enlighten me," Dumbledore replied with an almost icy politeness and an unspoken 'or else,' even as his blue eyes sought unsuccessfully to lock onto Bellatrix's violet ones.

"Very well," Bellatrix replied, seeing no benefit from further provoking the Headmaster. "As a show of good will, I shall tell you everything you want to know about the diary and the Chamber of Secrets. However, I will limit my comments on Harry Ashworth."

"Am I correct in understanding that you and Harry Ashworth entered the Chamber of Secrets and killed the basilisk?" Dumbledore asked, feigning patience.

"Yes." Bellatrix said curtly.

"How were you able to open it?" Dumbledore continued.

"How were you able to open it during this past school term?" Bellatrix countered.

Professor Dumbledore took a slow, deep breath. "I benefitted from whatever it was you did to ensure that you would be able to enter more easily. But clearly, there were other original mechanisms to limit access. Please, humor me, Mrs. Black."

Bellatrix then made a tactical shift of her own. "Harry Ashworth was a parselmouth," she admitted, launching into a precise, if succinct, recitation of the basic events.

Professor Dumbledore listened closely, occasionally nodding in respectful acknowledgment of the highlights of her story. "So, Mr. Ashworth also had knowledge that the diary existed and could be used to open the Chamber."

"Yes," Bellatrix said carefully, pausing briefly to parse her words. "He knew that it was only a matter of time before the diary would cause trouble."

"How did he know the diary existed?"

Bellatrix paused again. "That particular question," Bellatrix replied, "is one I cannot answer."

"You told Rose Potter and Leo Black that Lord Voldemort would do nearly anything to recover his diary," Dumbledore redirected.

"Yes."

"Why is that?"

"I was trying to intimidate them," Bellatrix admitted.

"You misunderstand me,." Dumbledore said, frowning. "I wish to know why it is that the diary is so valuable to Voldemort."

Bellatrix lapsed into an immature smirk. "Would you want someone reading your diary?"

Dumbledore paused, overmastering his internal frustration. "Is that the value of the diary then?" Dumbledore countered politely.

Bellatrix dropped her smirk—silently berating her penchant for pointless mockery—and shook her head. "Not at all. To my knowledge, Riddle never kept that kind of a diary."

"What kind of diary could it be then?"

"The diary is a horcrux," Bellatrix explained with sudden, disarming candor. "You can appreciate why I would be willing to pay as much as fifty thousand galleons to capture it."

Dumbledore leaned forward, eyes wide with astonishment. "The diary is a horcrux? As in a dark magical object in which Voldemort has deposited a portion of his very soul?"

"That would be correct, Headmaster."

Dumbledore paused in apparently horrified contemplation. "Mrs. Black," he said gravely, "I must insist that your surrender that diary to me."

Bellatrix fought an urge to look the Dumbledore in the eye, recalling rumors rampant among her fellow Slytherins concerning the Headmaster's mastery of legilimency. Instead, breathing deeply, she steeled herself for a difficult exchange. "I'm afraid that I must refuse."

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore argued urgently, "this is a war—a war that your father started. He died in the fight against Voldemort. Your refusing to surrender the diary impedes the war. If Voldemort has split his soul, we will need to take certain actions, and your refusing to cooperate will hinder us."

The invocation of her father's death angered Bellatrix, causing her to sit stock upright, straight backed and proud. Reigning in her emotions like a true Slytherin, Bellatrix kept her composure as she mentally dissected Dumbledore's words and prepared her retort. "You assume that you are the only person capable of taking responsible action toward this diary," she said. "I was raised with the Dark Arts, Headmaster. You may know more facts, but my inherent understanding very well could outstrip your own. Even Harry deferred to my expertise when we investigated the possibility that the dark lord had created horcruxes."

"Wait—horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked, amazed, eyes now even wider.

"Yes," Bellatrix bit out, annoyed that the Headmaster had interrupted her discourse. "Tom Riddle has made multiple horcruxes. Our hunt for Riddle's horcruxes led us to the home of his Muggle father that fateful night so many years ago. Harry and I were attempting to capture another of his horcruxes."

"Did you recover it?" Dumbledore asked quickly, interrupting Bellatrix yet again as he dropped all tactical pretenses.

"No, but I think it would be very safe to assume it was destroyed in the spellfire fight that ensued when Riddle arrived to defend his interests," Bellatrix replied, pausing briefly before continuing with frank directness. "So as you can see, Harry and I were working on the horcrux project long before you ever knew it might be an issue. In fact, Harry and I were working against Tom Riddle before you even realized that your former student had become the Dark Lord." She again paused, now for effect. "We continued to do so, even after you tossed Harry out of Hogwarts. As such, you should not be trying to take over this fight from me. You should instead be offering me assistance. Riddle's horcrux is in my possession—in the possession of Lady Black, herself, Headmaster—and you will not be able to wrest it away."

"Mrs. Black, we are talking about the public good. If you are truly seeking to better the overall situation against Voldemort, you should be willing to be more open."

"I am being open. I am offering you the opportunity to render aid to the cause," Bellatrix argued.

Dumbledore studied Bellatrix for a minute before finally responding. "Very well, Mrs. Black. What is it you want from me?"

"I need Peter Pettigrew," Bellatrix declared. "He is tied to the diary, and I do not want to proceed without access to him."

Dumbledore frowned. "Surely the diary can be destroyed without Peter."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Destroying the diary is a good idea, albeit unimaginative. I need Peter so I can exploit other possible venues of using the diary against Riddle.

"I do not have Peter Pettigrew to give you," Dumbledore replied.

"You have the resources to find him."

"Resources used to help fight Voldemort."

"Perhaps you should leave the fighting to the Ministry and divert your resources to attacking the problem at its root," Bellatrix retorted, standing as she made to leave.

"We're not finished discussing this issue, Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said sternly.

"Actually, I think we are," Bellatrix stated plainly, making her way to the door. "If you get any important leads on Pettigrew, let me know. I may have some resources of my own to help capture him."

Before she reached the door, Dumbledore asked one last question. "Does the term 'Daughter of the Stars' mean anything to you, Mrs. Black?"

As Bellatrix opened the door and prepared to depart, she turned and frowned. "A clever parting insult, Headmaster?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said hastily. "Just a thought."

~!~!~!~!~!

Amelia Bones was the ranking auror on duty in the Ministry when several of her comrades arrived in the Magical Law Enforcement office with five Death Eater prisoners and a distraught victim. Surveying the scene as the aurors began going through the steps to book the prisoners and file charges, Amelia addressed the auror lieutenant. "You should have taken her to St. Mungo's," Amelia said, gesturing toward the victim. The victim—a woman, in her late 30's or early 40's with dark red hair— had sought out a chair and had slumped in it. The involuntary trembles shaking her body were a sure sign that she had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.

"It's an odd case," the lieutenant replied, paying Amelia scant attention as he kept an eye on his subordinates to ensure that they followed proper procedures in booking the prisoners. "We need a statement from her, and she volunteered to get it over with as soon as possible. You might be interested in taking the statement personally. Auror Tonks can give you more details."

Amelia was slightly annoyed at having the responsibility of taking a statement and doing more paperwork shoved on her by an inferior officer, but was amenable to expediting the process as much as possible for the victim.

"If you would come with me to my office," Amelia said, trying to inflect some sympathy into her voice.

The victim did not directly reply, but cooperated when Tonks silently offered help to get down to Amelia's office. In short order, the victim, Tonks, and Amelia were shut up in Amelia's office quietly consuming some snacks that Amelia had found in one of her drawers.

Amelia set up a quill that would automatically transcribe the interview. "If you would please state your name for the record," Amelia began.

"Sabine Lehnsherr," the witch replied, identifying herself.

"Occupation?" Amelia asked, suppressing a yawn.

For some reason, this caused the victim pause, but Tonks spoke up. "She works with Muggles, but she also used to do forgery services on the side."

"My father did," Sabine said quickly, accepting a tissue from Tonks and wiping her eyes.

"I see," Amelia said, wondering if she would be obligated to investigate Sabine's activities at a future time.

"Please tell me what happened," Amelia instructed, looking over to ensure that the quill was transcribing the interview correctly.

Sabine was a wreck, but the story, with the help of Tonks, emerged. A group of Death Eaters had invaded the house. They attacked her and tortured her while her children had hidden upstairs.

"Children?" Amelia asked. "Where are they now?"

"A trustworthy neighbor is looking after them," Tonks said.

"What about the father?"

Tonks shrugged as Sabine sobbed. "Didn't look like there was one."

"Right," Amelia said, trying to get Sabine to focus. "So is that it? They attacked you and then the aurors came and stopped them?"

"They were interrogating her," Tonks offered.

Amelia frowned. "Were they trying to obtain forged documents or something?"

"No," Sabine said, shaking her head and hiccupping slightly. "They were asking about past work I had done."

"What past work was that?" Amelia asked.

"I can't be charged as long as it happened over ten years ago, right?" Sabine asked, seeming to pull herself together.

"That would be correct," Amelia said dryly, seeing that Sabine's previous assertion that it was only her father who forged must have been incorrect.

"Approximately twenty or so years ago, my father and I compiled a forged identity for a man named Harry Ashworth," Sabine confessed.

Amelia sat up her in chair. "Harry Ashworth? Are you saying that Death Eaters, presumably under the command of You-Know-Who, were interrogating you for the purpose of learning about Harry Ashworth?

"Yes," Sabine said, nodding in confirmation. "I wanted to put my statement on the record so that the Death Eaters will have no reason to ask me further questions or attempt to hinder me from reporting what I know."

"Putting your statement on our record doesn't tell the Death Eaters what they want to know," Amelia reminded Sabine.

"You're assuming that the Death Eaters have no access to Ministry records, ma'am."

"Tell me what you know about Harry Ashworth, then." Amelia directed, brushing past Sabine's implication that there were Death Eater spies in the Ministry.

Sabine shrugged. "I don't really know all that much. He approached my father and me around Christmastime in 1975. He needed a complete identity—said he had lost his old one."

"Lost his old one?"

Sabine shrugged again. "He claimed he was not on the run from the law. He said that he had merely lost his identity."

"Continue, then," Amelia directed, wondering absently as to how Ashworth might have 'lost his identity.'

"He paid ten thousand for a complete package," Sabine said.

"I see," Amelia said. "In cash?"

"Yes, cash."

"How did he find you?" Amelia inquired.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Amelia, "that people who perform your sort of service are part of a community. Presumably this Ashworth found you through some connection or another."

"Right," Sabine admitted. "I don't normally reveal that sort of thing, but it doesn't matter now. He was referred by Bellatrix Black."

"Bellatrix Black?" Amelia echoed, a look of surprise showing on her face.

"It makes sense," Tonks interjected. "Ashworth was pretty involved with the Blacks and Malfoys right up to when Malfoy and Minister Black were killed."

"I was aware of that," Amelia said, "but wasn't Bellatrix Black a teenager at that time? When did she learn about professional crime to the extent she could refer some random wizard to a forger?"

Both Tonks and Amelia looked to Sabine for the answer. Sabine was willing to oblige. "My father and I did a lot of business with Cygnus Black."

"The late Minister Black?" Amelia asked, sounding faintly surprised. "What kind of business?"

Sabine shrugged. "Black was involved in the real estate business, except that he dealt with Muggles."

"Why would you need a forger for real estate?" Amelia asked.

"Because he was selling magically created property to the Muggles," Sabine explained. "He would go into new developments—the ones with all those flats—and magically add a few floors. He would then sell the apartments. My father and I did the forgeries that fixed up all the relevant Muggle records to reflect the extra property and floors. It's not unlike Platform 9 ¾, except that Muggles have access. It didn't hurt anyone."

"And how was his daughter tied into all of this?" Amelia asked, frowning deeply.

"She was usually with her father at work. There were days when she ran things—interacted with the Muggle customers, filed paperwork with the Muggle government, and even interfaced with my father and me." Sabine explained.

"I'm not sure I can believe that," Amelia replied. "Cygnus Black was not the sort to interact with Muggles comfortably."

"It was the only way Cygnus could eke out a living," Sabine defended. "I'm not saying the Blacks loved Muggles. I'm saying they made their business off of Muggles."

"I see," Amelia said absently. "Was there anything else you can tell me about tonight's incident, or perhaps even about Harry Ashworth?"

~!~!~!~!~!~

The report on Sabine's interview with Madame Bones earned Tonks a spot in the Order's inner circle—at least for one meeting. Dumbledore, James, Lily, Sirius, Moody, Arthur, Molly and a few others were listening with rapt attention as Tonks concluded, "And then, Madame Bones assigned me to escort Sabine to St. Mungo's."

"How extraordinary," Dumbledore commented. "When I met with Mrs. Black, she implied that she had spent many of the past years among Muggles. From your account, it sounds as if Mrs. Black would actually be able to abide among Muggles with few problems."

"Sounds like she might have had a way to make money, too," James observed.

"Theoretically, she has had access to the entire Black fortune," Lily reminded everyone present.

"If that is so, it seems like we would have seen more of the Black money moving around," Molly suggested.

"That is a good point," Lily admitted. "The Bellatrix I knew certainly would have spent piles of gold in abundance, albeit shrewdly with the purpose of making profit."

"And there aren't all that many places to spend wizard gold," Sirius added.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, taking control of the conversation. "The main purpose of this meeting is to discuss Bellatrix Black and our future interactions with her."

"What about Harry Ashworth?" Lily demanded.

Dumbledore shrugged regretfully. "We have found no significant information concerning him that we did not know already."

"We know who forged his documents, now," Lily retorted. "We've also been reminded that his middle name was Evans, too."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Spare me the long-lost relative theory."

"I think it's oddly coincidental," Lily said, glaring at Sirius. "There's also the fact that he looks remarkably like James."

"Evans isn't all that uncommon of a name," Arthur Weasley said, finally weighing into the conversation for the first time since it had started.

"Besides," James said, "if he's somehow related to me, it's doubtful he'd be going around sporting the name of Evans."

"That is all new information, certainly," Dumbledore said, cutting in. "But it doesn't really help us. I can assure you that Alastor and I are taking steps to investigate Harry Ashworth further. However, in all honesty, I must tell you that it is my opinion that Ashworth is probably dead." He raised his hand to forestall Lily's objections. "I will explain my reasoning another time. Tonight, we must address what is to be done about Bellatrix Black."

The members of the Order looked at Dumbledore with questions on all of their faces, but Mrs. Weasley spoke up first. "Must something be done?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Apparently, Harry Ashworth and Bellatrix were working together to fight against Voldemort. They made important discoveries. It shames me to admit that they made far more progress in the fight against Voldemort than we have in all of our battles with his followers."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked.

"Neither is now the time for that explanation," Dumbledore said. "Suffice it to say that Bellatrix Black has captured an extremely important object that belongs to Voldemort. She has refused to turn it over to me for proper action."

"Are you saying we're going to need to steal it from her?" James asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not think such a venture would be even mildly successful. No, we are going to have to make friends with her and hope that through our friendship she can be persuaded into doing the correct thing."

"We could just ask her to join the Order," Moody said drily.

Sirius shook his head. "No, that would be a very bad approach. If we ask her to do something, we'll be beholden to her."

"I see," said Lily. "So, we'll just be friends until we can guilt trip her into giving us this thing and cooperating. Perhaps she'll even ask for the opportunity to join the Order."

"That's the general idea," Dumbledore said.

Sirius shook his head yet again. "You're improperly assuming that she's capable of feeling things like guilt and friendship."

~!~!~!~!~!

"No—no way. I am not going to ask to join the Order," Bellatrix declared to Harry as she carefully unwrapped one of her latest purchases from Diagon Alley. "Eventually, they will realize that I have the upper hand. When they ask me to join, I will gracefully assent after they accept my conditions."

"The idea is to win the war," Harry said, watching as Bellatrix set a rather long and wide, albeit flat, case on one of her tables. "Not assert dominance over the rest of the army."

"There is no army without proper leadership and no victory without competent guidance," Bellatrix shot back airily, opening the case.

"And of course, you will join the Order and tell them how best to wage this war," Harry said somewhat facetiously, moving closer to see what was in the case.

Bellatrix gave Harry a level stare. "Only after they have displayed proper respect for our knowledge and abilities."

Harry hid a smile, looking into the open case and observed what seemed like a couple of hundred wands, albeit short and skinny ones in various sizes and assorted types of wood. "I thought we already had an abundance of those cheap wands on hand," he observed.

"These are not meant to be used as normal wands," Bellatrix informed him. "This is a high-end tool set for professionals who manufacture or repair highly sensitive magical objects."

"Please tell me there is still money in our bank account," Harry sighed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and nodded her head. "I got you something, too," she said, nodding toward another package sitting on an adjoining table.

Harry walked over and opened it to discover several items of wizard armor crafted from basilisk skin. The ensemble did not quite constitute battle robes, for it was clear that one's normal robes were to be worn with the armor. "This will come in handy in all those pitched battles I fight in," Harry said.

"It's for your stupid little excursions," Bellatrix snapped at him half-heartedly as she continued to admire her tool set. "Maybe it will keep you alive."

"Thank you, Bella," Harry said sincerely as he began to try the various articles of armor on, beginning with the boots and moving onto a special pair of dueling gauntlets.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, continuing to put on the armor and deciding he would wear it on his excursion. "It's either that or I use my connection to Tom to find him and 'haunt' him personally. I'd prefer to just find some Death Eaters and terrorize them because they'll be less likely to figure out my techniques and chase me down."

"Good point," Bellatrix admitted.

"You probably shouldn't wait up for me," Harry told her. "Unless I get lucky early on, I'll keep at it."

Bellatrix made some scarcely intelligible sound acknowledging Harry's advice as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor of their flat. He went to their bedroom and dug out a dark, hooded cloak before exiting the apartment into the gloomy Manchester night and disapparating to Diagon Alley.

Harry appeared in an unlit corner of Diagon Alley near the goblin bank. As always was the case during the evening or at night, the street was completely devoid of life. Harry stood still for several moments, confirming that all was as quiet as it seemed. He then gripped his wand tightly and cast the image projection spell. In the middle of the street, about fifteen feet away from where Harry stood in the shadows, the shadow of Harry's image appeared in the street. It resembled Harry exactly, except that Harry's face and hands were translucent, like a ghost. The other difference was that 'Ghost Harry' did not appear to be holding a wand.

The ghostly image of Harry began walking down the street slowly, staring ahead, its hands occasionally reaching forward as if to grasp something just out of sight. Invisible, Harry walked down the street flanking his image, admiring how much more intimidating his so-called ghost appeared adorned in Bellatrix's armor and his own dark, hooded cloak.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Fearfully, Igor Karkaroff glanced around the street in Diagon Alley as he and Pius Thicknesse led a group of Death Eaters toward the Weasley joke shop. The Weasley twins were purebloods, but their joke shop had skated on the thin edge of defiance against the Dark Lord for too long. While the Dark Lord did not want to kill purebloods unless strictly necessary, the joke shop had to be dealt with.

"Hurry up," Thicknesse muttered, glancing back to make sure the Death Eaters under his and Karkaroff's joint command were still following closely. Thicknesse aspired to be a politician, but under Minister Prewitt's stringent policies, he had been unable to entrench himself into the bureaucracy. However, his family did hold a seat on the Wizengamot. It was a small thing, particularly under Prewitt's regime, but he did not want to lose influence or even the seat itself by getting caught torching a shop in Diagon Alley.

"I didn't want to come either," Karkaroff muttered quietly so that the other Death Eaters wouldn't hear.

"You're the one who aspires to join the Dark Lord's inner circle," Thicknesse whispered. "The quicker we get this over with, the better. Now move."

They were just approaching the cross street that would get them to the shop when one of the Death Eaters following Karkaroff and Thicknesse spotted something. "Hey, what's that?"

Karkaroff turned his head down the street and squinted. It was a dark cloaked figure walking down the street toward them at a steady pace. "Who is it?" he asked.

"It's too far away, idiot," Thicknesse said. "It's probably another Death Eater. If it was anyone else, they would have run off by now."

The group of Death Eaters stopped and watched as the figure walked toward them, maintaining a steady pace. Eventually, it was close enough for them to discern its features. Thicknesse, who had been present when the ghost of Harry Ashworth confronted Lord Voldemort, was first to identify the figure.

"It's Ashworth's ghost!" he hissed quietly. "Let's get out of here, and maybe it won't notice us."

Karkaroff shook his head. "Ghost can't hurt people. Besides, if we run from a ghost, the Dark Lord will punish us."

Ultimately, Thicknesse and Karkaroff's debate proved pointless. One of the Death Eaters they were leading had taken it upon herself to shoot a stunner at the ghost. The beam of light passed through Ashworth's ghostly figure. The ghost stopped walking and turned its translucent gaze to the group of Death Eaters. For a heartbeat, the Death Eaters and ghost gazed at one another before the ghost's eyes suddenly flared as if on fire.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry stifled laughter as the Death Eaters collectively let out shouts of surprise and screams of terror. He had not even done anything to them yet. Focusing intently on maintaining the ghostly apparition, Harry moved his invisible physical body and drew one of his spare wands. With a cramped sort of flourish, he sent a banishing charm toward the group of Death Eaters that knocked most of them to the ground. For good measure, he followed it with a ground-shaking spell which turned out to be a disappointment to Harry—the tremors in the ground were barely detectable, but it served to further rattle the Death Eaters psychologically.

Some of the quicker Death Eaters had managed to draw their wands and were shooting spells at the apparition. Harry repositioned himself to make sure he was not on the wrong side of the spells. Positioned appropriately, Harry switched his focus to controlling the apparition.

The Death Eaters watched with horror as the ghost of Harry Ashworth raised both of its hands and brought them down, as if striking with some invisible force. Harry uttered a silent prayer that his spare wand would hold up and then summoned half a dozen bolts of lightning, striking in quick succession but not hitting any of the Death Eaters. Harry then cast several minor flame charms to make it look as if the lightning had caught the dirt or something on fire.

While the Death Eaters scrambled to avoid catching fire or being struck by lightning, Harry cast some stunners and incapacitated two of the Death Eaters. He then focused on his image projection and had it raise its arms once again. The Death Eaters who had managed to get back to their feet fled, while Harry—a wry smile on his lips—pointed his wand to the sky and uttered a spell he had once heard cast at the Quidditch World Cup, prior to his fourth year at Hogwarts. "Morsmordre!"

As the Dark Mark rose into the sky, Harry summoned a couple more bolts of lightning, cancelled the image projection charm, and apparated away.

~!~!~!~!~!

When Harry returned home, the flat was dark. He stopped at the fridge for a quick snack and then moved to the bedroom. Bellatrix was lying on the bed, apparently asleep. She had thrown off the bed covers, leaving the skin not covered by her nightie open to the cool air of the apartment. Harry shook his head, wondering again how someone could stand being cold like that.

He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed as gingerly as possible so as not to wake Bellatrix. However, as he settled in, he realized that he had either woken her or that she had not been sleeping, for she turned and wrapped her arm around him, gently nuzzling her husband.

31. Narcissa Enters a Bargain

A/N: Well, thanks to the little share links up in the top right corner, it seems I must now include author notes in each chapter or run the risk of you people concluding that I don't know how to center chapter titles.

Chapter 30

By

Lord Silvere & Gilgameshone

Sirius smirked at the frown tugging at the corners of his oldest friend's mouth. "Clearly, James has the 'Bad Auror' bit down pat," Sirius said cheekily to Albus, "but wouldn't it make more sense for Lily to be the 'Good Auror'? She and Bella were roommates, albeit briefly."

"Setting aside the fact that you are actually an Auror, Sirius," Albus chuckled, eyes twinkling at James' sour face, "I daresay Lady Black would expect to find collusion between a pair of old Marauders like you and James. So we meet her expectations. And she'd be disappointed in you, Sirius, as a member of the Black family, if she suspected you lacked ulterior motives."

"Whereas a wide-eyed, guileless muggleborn like me," Lily asked disapprovingly, "would somehow appear to be a perfect confidante for Bellatrix?"

"After your rescue from Malfoy Manor," Albus said to Lily, turning serious, "you do owe her a life debt, which may make her feel that she can better afford to confide in you. Moreover, as you are one of the two most brilliant arithmeticians I've ever had to the pleasure to teach," Albus added, eyes twinkling again, "Bellatrix may see you as a useful resource."

You need a new line, Albus, Lily thought to herself, annoyed with Dumbledore's overreliance on grandfatherly flattery, the Brightest Witch of Her Age has heard that one a million times. "Perhaps, Professor," Lily replied, rolling her eyes. "But please, remind me, again. Are we planning a dinner party or presiding over a war council?"

"Both, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore said, giving his brilliant former student a knowing smile, "as you are very well aware."

"Besides," Sirius added, smirking, "in the long tradition of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, family meals have always been more a function of allegiances and betrayals than steak and roasted potatoes."

"Sharp knives and fresh meat are always on the menu, though," James muttered.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry and Bellatrix stood across the street from 12 Grimmauld Place as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving snow-covered London to freeze in the winter night air. A myriad of delicately cast spells concealed the couple from view while they stood watch over the house that had been left mostly abandoned since Walburga Black's suicide.

"Who would even want to have a dinner party in that place?" Harry grumbled as he clenched his fists and drove them into the pockets of his coat in an effort to keep his hands warm. His memories of Grimmauld Place from his native timeline still predominated in his mind over any other memory. It had been a miserable, dirty place that he had spent far too much time hiding in.

"I recall you attending a dinner party there," Bellatrix said lightly, reminding him that the house had seen good times—or at least times when it had been in better repair. "Besides, I think the Order members keep their houses very private and secure. I do not think I qualify as a trusted friend of the Potter family quite yet."

"Yes, you kind of burned the bridges with your mother-in-law while you shared a dorm with her, didn't you?" Harry snickered, glancing quickly at Bellatrix with a smile before returning his focus to Grimmauld Place.

Bellatrix shrugged. "You cannot deny that her precociousness drove you crazy."

Harry wrinkled his nose and frowned at his wife. "It never pays to underestimate an ingenious muggleborn witch."

"Do not look at me that way," Bellatrix retorted. "You are an orphan, for Merlin's sake. If Lily Potter had raised you, it could have been a disaster. Look at Rose—she is a total creeper. As for Sidra . . . Kreacher likes her. What does that say about her?"

"I'll wait until I've had the chance to more formally get to know or hear firsthand gossip about my pseudo-siblings before passing judgment," Harry said stiffly, feeling oddly defensive over Bellatrix's comments concerning his family. "Besides, I was always told that the reason I survived Tom's Killing Curse as a child was somehow because of Lily's willingness to sacrifice herself for me. If that's true, it means that Lily Potter, while in her early twenties, orchestrated the destruction of Tom Riddle's mortal body, at the very height of his power, no less. No one else who ever opposed him—including Dumbledore, and for that matter, me—managed that feat."

Bellatrix arched her eyebrow in thought, impressed despite herself, even as she replied with reflexive sarcasm, "I didn't realize that crush she had on you was so mutual."

Scowling, Harry turned to look at Bellatrix, noting the thoughtful expression on her face. Realizing that his wife's tongue had yet again gotten the better of her, Harry said in an exasperated tone, "I can see your brain is engaged and working. But your mouth still seems to have a mind of its own."

Embarrassed by her lack of premeditation, Bellatrix felt her checks grow flush, even as she glared at her husband, matching Harry's scowl with one of her own. Realizing that he'd gotten his point across, Harry softened his expression and raised his eyebrows. Bellatrix's face remained stubbornly stony, making Harry smirk while Bellatrix furrowed her brows in annoyance.

Laughing to himself silently, Harry suddenly crushed his lips against hers, making Bellatrix breathlessly stumble even as she felt her body respond. I can't control this reflex either, she thought wistfully, wrapping arms around Harry and pressing herself against his chest.

Lightheaded and yearning, Harry and Bellatrix continued to kiss one another fiercely even as the sun slowly vanished, leaving London to shiver beneath the cloudless winter sky. Finally, slowly breaking the kiss, Bellatrix took a deep breath, smirking as she exhaled. "That would be a much better way to spend this evening."

Harry smiled broadly before shrugging wistfully. "Duty calls, my darling wife." Looking at the windows of Grimmauld Place and glancing at his watch, Harry added, "In five or ten minutes, you'll be fashionably late. It looks like the lights are on inside the dining room." Pausing, Harry touched his wand to his glasses, activating an enchantment, which allowed him to perceive assorted forms of magical activity. "And if I can in fact believe my eyes, it would appear that the coast is clear."

"Wonderful," Bellatrix declared regretfully. "Where's the cake?"

"Right over there," Harry said, gesturing to a bench on the edge of the sidewalk, roughly five meters away from their position.

"Why did you put it there?" Bellatrix whined, shaking her head as she walked to retrieve the cake, before refreshing the warming charm upon it. "Someone could have sat on it."

Harry shrugged. "I guess I could have put it on the road and let it get ran over by a lorry."

"Maybe you should have," Bellatrix said lamely, wincing internally at her witless riposte. Pausing briefly in thought, Bellatrix turned back to face Harry with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Did you ever think about going back to Privet Drive and harassing the Dursleys?" Bellatrix asked.

"Er . . . not really," Harry said, confused by the apparent non sequitur.

"Bothering your Aunt Petunia would not be very fun, but Vernon and Dudley . . . that could be a barrel of laughs right there," Bellatrix observed. "Emphasis on the barrel, of course."

"Sure," Harry said, still confused. "Terrific. I'll have to take the opportunity some time."

"It may come sooner than you think," Bellatrix smirked.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked nervously.

Bellatrix held up her hand, looking at her wristwatch as shushed him, heading toward Grimmauld Place as she said, "You are about to make me unfashionably late." Kissing her husband goodbye, Bellatrix asked, "What are you going to do while I'm in there enjoying the company of your esteemed friends and family?"

"Probably stop off for dinner at your favorite restaurant," Harry responded cheekily, laughing at the annoyed expression on his wife's face. "Maybe go terrorize some Death Eaters."

"I hope your mother is a good cook," Bellatrix said grouchily.

"How should I know about my mother's cooking? I'm an orphan," Harry shot back, smiling brightly.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "See you later," she said. "And do not terrorize Death Eaters. We cannot pass it off as something I might have done if I was having dinner with a bunch of witnesses."

She turned her back on Harry, making her way across the street and up the steps to the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place. Shifting the cake and its platter into one hand, she rapped on the door of the home that should have been hers were it not for her husband's total and complete aversion to the place. If Harry thinks we are going to live in that flat forever, he had better think twice, Bellatrix grumbled silently to herself.

Bellatrix was still shaking her head as she thought of the loss of Grimmauld Place even as the front door opened to reveal Sirius Black. "Dear Cousin!" he exclaimed exuberantly. "Be welcome to our humble home."

Bellatrix stared at him blankly. "I did not sign up for dinner with you," she said suspiciously.

"I'm the deal sweetener," Sirius said before being shoved aside by Lily Potter, who had appeared from the hall leading to the kitchen.

"We're so glad you could make it," Lily declared, smiling more broadly than Bellatrix thought she ought. "It's been so long since we were together at Hogwarts, and I've also wanted to thank you for everything you did to help Molly and me."

Bellatrix held out the cake. "I thought we might all enjoy this after the meal," she said.

"It's wonderful," Lily exclaimed just as Sirius's wife, Cassie, entered the front hall from the dining room.

"Did you make it yourself?" Cassie asked.

"Of course," Bellatrix replied, silently thanking Aunt Petunia for forcing Harry to learn how to cook well.

Lily and Cassie further complimented Bellatrix on the quality of the cake before leading her towards the dining room with Sirius trailing behind. In transit, they found James Potter and Albus Dumbledore examining some of the Black family relics.

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said graciously as he walked over to greet Bellatrix.

"Professor Dumbledore," Bellatrix replied, her tone the paragon of civility.

"I hear from my sources at the Ministry that you have been busy," Dumbledore observed.

"Pardon me?" Bellatrix asked, masking her confusion.

"He's talking about the ghost of Ashworth harassing Death Eaters," James Potter snapped, sounding very skeptical of Bellatrix in general.

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, that," James said. "Do you really think that it's a good idea?"

"Yes."

James was about to retort, but Lily intervened. "Please, James," Lily said. "We are going to have a nice dinner."

"James is jealous," Sirius told Bellatrix conspiratorially. "He always wanted to be a masked vigilante when he was growing up."

"Maybe I should teach him how to raise Harry's ghost. He could take his turn one of these nights," Bellatrix said.

"Look at her," James retorted, speaking of Bellatrix in the third person. "She's a young girl that the Death Eaters would hurt quite badly if they got their hands on her."

"Just you remember, young man, that she is older than you," Bellatrix snapped.

"How old are you?" Lily asked innocently. "It's been so long since we've seen each other that I can't remember when your birthday was."

Bellatrix paused, her face a placid mask, suddenly realizing she still thought of herself as being seventeen. Quickly, she did the math. "I'm . . . thirty-nine."

"Nearly over the hill!" Sirius crowed. "Next stop… menopause!"

That's the good auror? Lily thought, rolling her eyes and shaking her head slightly. "You don't look thirty-nine," Lily said earnestly. "Howsoever do you do it?"

"It is the natural beauty that runs in the Black family," Bellatrix replied, relieved that her hosts had apparently bought the lie—or at least pretended to have done so. Glancing quickly at Sirius, she then qualified her comment. "On the female side, anyway."

"Hey!" Sirius protested as Cassie and Lily laughed before leaving heading to the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the food and complete their preparations for the dinner.

"Your age is irrelevant," James pressed on. "What you are doing is quite dangerous. It would be safer if you stopped."

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself," Bellatrix said airily, dismissing James's warning.

"Look, old woman, I'm an auror, and not even I go out alone like you do." James snapped.

"Have you considered that I might be a far better duelist than you?" Bellatrix asked, a dangerous tone apparent in her voice.

"I don't believe that," James retorted sharply.

"I'll prove it to you," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand as she walked into the living room in which Orion Black had tested Harry's prowess. "A duel, right here, right now."

A pity I decided against having Remus attend, Dumbledore thought, sighing internally at the antics of his good/bad auror duo. Expecting subtly from this particular pair of Marauders appears to have been a vain hope. Stepping between Bellatrix and James as he cleared his throat, Dumbledore said, "Let us save the entertainment for after dinner." Turning to Bellatrix, he added, "Mrs. Black, we are mainly interested in what you hope to achieve by randomly ambushing Death Eaters and then allowing all but a few to escape."

"It is called psychological warfare, Headmaster," Bellatrix said with faint condescension. "I want to keep Tom off balance. Someone has to deliver the message to him, and it is far better that embarrassed Death Eaters perform that task."

"And you propose to pursue this while you are working on your other project?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes," Bellatrix replied, wondering if he had shared information about the horcruxes with those present.

"I think you have a good two-pronged strategy in play," Dumbledore said with politic approval, "but surely, it is difficult to maintain both fronts all on your own."

Bellatrix shrugged. "I make do. Besides, there is nothing I can really do on the other project until I have Peter Pettigrew."

"Yes, perhaps we could discuss that alone," Dumbledore said quietly, glancing furtively at James and Sirius, who now looked extremely curious. The aged headmaster stood up. "Perhaps we could discuss it right now while we wait for dinner. I believe there is small room just across the hall."

"That would be fine," Bellatrix assented as she silently rejoiced. Shooting James and Sirius a smirk, Bellatrix followed Dumbledore out of the living room and into a small study across the hall. Some quick spell work lit up the room.

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said evenly, "I would encourage you to be discreet about your other project."

"You brought it up," Bellatrix defended, the shadow of a smirk still adorning her expression.

"Yes, but I referred to it as your project," Dumbledore qualified. "Secrecy is key to the situation. Furthermore, the subject of Peter Pettigrew is a sensitive one among this particular group."

"I see," Bellatrix said, leaving no hint as to what she really thought. "Well, tell me about Pettigrew."

"My sources indicate that Lord Voldemort is also seeking Pettigrew," Dumbledore told Bellatrix.

"Naturally," Bellatrix responded. "Does Snape know anything else?"

The silence that followed was thunderous, and Bellatrix reveled in it. Professor Dumbledore jealously guarded the identities of his informants. Without the realization that Bellatrix had access to Harry's expansive knowledge of how the Order likely functioned, Dumbledore could find no possible explanation for Bellatrix to know that Snape was a spy.

Dumbledore dared neither admit nor deny Bellatrix's assumption about Snape. "Mrs. Black, I cannot speak about my sources. Access to that information is based on the strictest need to know basis." He cleared his throat. "My sources also indicate that the Death Eaters responsible for the search happen to be Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

"Indeed," Bellatrix mused. "Has the Order done anything to track Pettigrew down?"

"No, I have just told you everything I know about Pettigrew's whereabouts."

"So be it," Bellatrix said. "You and your Order may as well forget about Pettigrew. I will look into the matter on my own."

"Just what do you intend to do?" Dumbledore asked.

"That information is on a somewhat loose need to know basis," Bellatrix said, maintaining a perfectly straight face. "Combine that with a dose of my natural contrariness and the result is that I am not inclined to tell you."

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said with a deep sigh, somehow sounding very patient but disapproving, "you are balancing a lot of important and difficult concerns and responsibilities. Would it not be easier for you to let us know your plans and allow us to help you here and there?"

"If I have a situation that overwhelms me, I will let you know," Bellatrix replied. "For now, I feel quite up to snuff. In fact, I am going to prove it to you when I duel Mr. Potter tonight."

"I assure you, Mrs. Black, that a duel with Mr. Potter is not necessary," Dumbledore said as he moved to exit the room and return to the dining room, thus signaling that the private interview was over."

"But I want to duel him," Bellatrix said, smiling impertinently.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix departed from Grimmauld Place feeling rather satisfied, albeit bruised and quite sore. She spotted a man sitting across the road, on the bench on which the cake had sat. Thinking that it might be Harry, she made her way across the street. The man did not look like Harry, but he was eating from a takeout container stamped with the name of a restaurant she and Harry had visited a number of times.

"So, you think that is my favorite restaurant, eh?" Bellatrix smirked, leering at him as she self-consciously felt at her face to make sure she was no longer bleeding. "What an inattentive husband you are."

The man who apparently was Harry grinned. "Well, it's your favorite restaurant that's close enough to here to bother to walk to, anyway." Noticing bruises on her forehead and cheek, Harry grew concerned. "What happened to your face?"

"I was teaching your father a lesson," Bellatrix told Harry simply.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Seeing as you are sporting a pair of black eyes, it rather looks like he may have taught you a lesson."

"At least I am still walking," Bellatrix said mischievously.

Harry stared at his wife silently for several seconds, then said, "Well, I'm impressed."

"I hate to knock your father off of that pedestal you put him on, Harry," Bellatrix smirked, "but compared to you, James Potter was just a stroll through the park."

Harry shook his head in amazement, staring for a long, silent moment into his wife's violent eyes. "Actually, Bellatrix, before I was born, my parents dueled Tom Riddle and survived, three separate times."

"Which means that the James Potter I so soundly beat tonight," Bellatrix realized, eyes wide, "has twice as much experience as your father did when he dueled toe to toe with the Devil himself."

"No surprise to me," Harry said, curling a lustrous ebon lock of Bellatrix's hair around his right index finger while stroking her left check, "After all, you are—singularly—the most talented, most powerful, most beautiful witch I've ever known."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry's next opportunity to terrorize Death Eaters arrived a few days later, taking a slightly different twist than previous incidents, during which he had satisfied himself with frightening and then attacking groups of Death Eaters prior to allowing most of the perpetrators to escape to tell the tale to Tom. The enhanced opportunity came because of two factors. The first was that Bellatrix and Harry had developed a spell that would allow the ghost of Harry Ashworth to terrorize Death Eaters briefly without Harry's personal involvement. The second factor had more to do with the Death Eaters' specific task for the night.

As Harry crept through Diagon Alley that late evening, he happened upon a group of Death Eaters gathering in a very small street between a small pub and a secondhand clothing store. Harry gripped his wand and prepared to have his "ghost" appear some distance down the street and then walk slowly up the street toward the gathered Death Eaters.

However, Harry paused when he realized that this group was not planning the typical arson and sabotage campaign throughout Diagon Alley that had become the most monotonous play in the Death Eaters' book. Apparently, these Death Eaters intended to go elsewhere, and were currently waiting for more comrades. With a confident smirk, Harry decided that he would join up.

With a quick wave of his wand, Harry caused a Death Eater mask to materialize in front of his face. A few other quick spells served to disguise Harry and his person further. He emerged from the shadows and took up a position on the group's outskirts.

A few of the Death Eaters looked at Harry for a brief moment, grunting very quietly as if in greeting or even recognition. Harry grunted back and then struck a diffident pose, leaning against a wall. The Death Eater in command was nobody that Harry could recognize, at least not with the mask and robes, though Harry was able to discern that it was a wizard—a wizard very preoccupied with his timepiece and with watching the street for unwanted arrivals.

Eventually, the leader decided that they were ready to begin. He motioned for all the Death Eaters in the group to move inward so they could hear him speak quietly. "The Dark Lord wants us to capture Percy Weasley," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "It is imperative that we capture him without leaving obvious physical marks."

"What about his wife?" another Death Eater asked, obviously disappointed that the operation involved something as complicated as keeping the target alive.

"Fair game," rumbled the leader, "so long as she stays alive."

Harry wondered whether Percy had married Penelope or someone else this time around. In so doing, he almost missed the travelling instructions, though he was able to catch on just in time for their departure.

One disapparition pop later, Harry found himself in the basement of Percy Weasley's building. He and the Death Eaters made for the lift swiftly and piled in. "No more magic without my permission until we have him in sight," commanded one of the Death Eaters. Harry supposed he was the second in command—or perhaps wanted to be first in command.

They soon arrived on the floor of Percy's flat. Harry's mind raced as he tried to plan his next move. The ghost of Harry Ashworth would not be very impressive in the well-lit hallway outside of Percy's flat. Fortunately, Harry had some extra time to plan as two of the Death Eaters quickly worked to bypass the wards guarding Percy's flat while the rest of the group—a group that Harry thought was rather large for a simple kidnapping—kept watch. Inefficient and cowardly, Harry thought, though he was grateful that the group was large enough for him to merge into without notice.

Eventually, the two Death Eaters in charge of the ward breaking signaled that the wards were down. The group stormed toward the apartment, kicking open the door, wands drawn. Luckily, for Percy and his wife, at least one of the wards had either gone undetected or had triggered an alarm because Percy clearly had been waiting for the group. A stunner caught one of the Death Eaters in the face, even as the rest rushed in, returning spell fire.

Harry passed the fallen Death Eater, pausing to kick him soundly in the crotch, before pushing on into the apartment amid the chaos. Percy had retreated, barricading himself with his wife in the bedroom. The Death Eaters were eagerly shooting spells, but not so eagerly advancing down the hallway.

Harry looked around for the fuse box, eventually finding it near the kitchen stove. He did not know whether Percy and his wife used electricity, but wanting to ensure that the apartment stayed in darkness, he shot a reducto at it, guaranteeing that the apartment would be dark enough for the Ashworth ghost.

He then turned his attention to the windows, spotting a big sliding door that led out to a balcony. Moonlight filtered in through window and the drapes. Perfect, Harry thought. Conscious that Percy was under fire, Harry moved to put his plan into action, drawing an alternate Wandel wand and casting the spell he and Bellatrix had created.

Derived in part, ironically, from Bellatrix's arthimatic assessment of the mosmordre projection of the Dark Mark, the conjured form of Ashworth's ghost manifested itself, looking as if it had entered through the window and touched down on the carpet. The Death Eaters were too focused on getting into the bedroom to notice, however. Moronic tactics, Harry thought to himself. But what can you expect from a bunch of inbred purebloods who let themselves be branded little cattle? Not even watching their own flank. Harry smirked. Unless of course they think I'm watching it.

Shrugging, Harry took a deep breath and let out a very feminine-sounding shriek. "It's the ghost of Ashworth!" Harry yelled, using the same wand both to control the apparition and to point fearfully to it. With the Death Eaters now focused on Ashworth's ghost, Harry twisted his Wandel wand imperceptibly, causing the eyes of the ghost to flare.

Then, using the yew and phoenix feather wand that had belonged to Voldemort in Harry's native timeline, Harry caused a blinding explosion nearby just before casting the image projection spell, creating the appearance that the ghost had struck Harry himself unconscious—or dead. Now invisible, Harry then stepped away to another side of the room while the Death Eaters, just getting their sight back, stared at the ghost and the apparently downed form of their comrade.

The Death Eaters were hesitant. They had heard stories of Ashworth's ghost and the fear it inspired in the Dark Lord himself, but the Death Eaters also had clear orders to bring Percy Weasley to Voldemort. Harry helped them make up their minds, summoning lightning bolts that seemed to flow from the ghost's hands. The lightning bolts, informed by the ghost's reputation, rapidly convinced the Death Eaters to flee. In short order, the apartment was empty save for Harry and the Weasley couple, who were still hiding in the bedroom.

Harry moved from the bedroom door's line of sight and then cancelled the image projection charm that had made it appear as if he was dead on the floor. Soon, cautious mumbles from the bedroom indicated that Percy was about to come out. With a vague smirk on his face, Harry gestured with his Wandel wand to send the ghost floating toward the bedroom before severing the wand's connection to the apparition. Without the connection to the wand, the ghost continued to exist for only a few short moments. However, the ghost's life was apparently long enough, for as Harry apparated away, he heard a masculine gasp of fear and a genuine, feminine shriek.

~!~!~!~!~!

The next morning, the Daily Prophet was a hot item at the Hogwarts breakfast tables.

Daily Prophet

Death Eater Attack on Ministry Aide Foiled by Ghost?

~Rita Skeeter

Late last night, Death Eaters broke into the apartment of Percival Weasley, interrupting the domestic affairs of Mr. Weasley and his partner, a person whom this reporter will not name. Well-set wards alerted Weasley of the impending attack, and he was prepared to greet his uninvited visitors with spellfire as the door burst inward. Weasley successfully stunned one of his attackers, whom Aurors later captured.

The attack ceased abruptly at the arrival of a mysterious visitor. Closemouthed, Weasley refused to share his observations of the incident. However, this reporter has discovered facts from the Auror report. Weasley informed Aurors that he heard one of the Death Eaters yell, "It's the ghost of Ashworth!" just before bright flashes of light exploded through the apartment. The aforementioned report also details that Weasley's partner went on record saying that a ghost of what appeared to be a wizard was observed.

Amelia Bones, a senior auror, refused to comment on whether similar incidents have previously occurred. She also refused to comment on a string of recently foiled Death Eater attacks. Other DMLE officials refused to comment as to whether the Ashworth referred to may have been one Harry Ashworth, a close, personal confidante of the late Minister Black and a former Potions professor at Hogwarts. Ashworth was last sighted in 1976 and is presumed by many to be deceased.

See Who is Harry Ashworth? on page 5

Percy's youngest brother, Ron, was naturally milking the article for all it was worth, discussing the attack on Percy with his two best friends, Sidra Potter and Hermione Granger, along with any and every gossipy student within earshot willing to tolerate Ron's smug condescension long enough to learn what little Ron knew about Harry Ashworth's history.

"Why won't Skeeter name the person with your brother?" Dean Thomas asked. "Is he cheating on his wife?"

"Skeeter was just trying to make Percy look bad," Ron said, brushing the question off as Sidra and Hermione nodded in agreement. "Penelope was the one who saw the ghost."

"So have you heard from them?" Sally Anne Perks asked.

"Well, no," Ron admitted. The Weasley clan no longer got along very well with Percy, having been estranged from Ron's ambitious older brother ever since Percy's graduation from Hogwarts, when Percy decided to reach out to his coldhearted grandfather, Minister of Magic Prewitt. Glancing knowingly at Hermione, Ron added, "But I'm sure that my grandfather—Minister Prewitt—worked closely with Ashworth at the start of the war." Glancing at Hermione again, Ron raised his eyebrows in response to her dubious expression. "In fact, I'm sure the Minister thought about appointing Ashworth to head the DMLE before Ashworth disappeared."

Finally, as the questions lulled, Ron smirked to overhear fellow students parroting his version of events. Turning to Hermione, Ron still saw doubt written across her face.

"I'm not sure you're right about the relationship between Ashworth and the Minister, Ron," Hermione said, frowning.

Ron shrugged. "The Minister may be a horse's ass," Ron replied as Hermione's frown deepened, "but he genuinely hates the Dark Lord. And besides, I said the Minister probably thought about appointing Ashworth. He probably thought it was a ridiculous idea. Nothing wrong with a little misinformation to throw off the competition."

"You're channeling Rita Skeeter, Ron," Sidra groaned, rolling her eyes as Hermione shook her head.

Ignoring Ron, Hermione mused, "I wonder if Bellatrix Black is the one responsible."

"Maybe we should ask them," Sidra said, turning her head and looking down the table at her sister, Rose, who huddled with her own posse.

Beyond an occasional shake of the head, Rose Potter, Leo Black, and Ginny Weasley had largely ignored Ron's posturing, gathering together on the opposite end of the Gryffindor table and theorizing about why Harry and Bellatrix would have been anywhere near Percy Weasley's apartment.

"He's an important Ministry official," Leo speculated in a low voice. "Maybe Harry got wind of a plot to capture him."

Ginny snorted. "He's not an important Ministry official."

Rose seemed lost in thought. "We should try to learn how he does that image projection spell," she mused.

Further musing was cut off, however, as Professor McGonagall arrived in the hall and signaled that she wished to make an announcement.

"Students, as you know, the dueling club will hold its weekly meeting tonight. The Headmaster has invited a witch named Bellatrix Black to conduct the lesson and practice exercises, instead of Professor Flitwick."

Scattered murmurs broke out at this announcement of a departure from the dueling club's routine. Instantly, the attention of Rose, Sidra, and friends focused on Professor McGonagall, who now twisted her mouth in distaste, unconsciously conveying her opinion of what she had been instructed to say.

"The Headmaster has asked me to announce this," said McGonagall, "because as a scion of the darker side of the Black family, Mrs. Black will bring a unique perspective to your dueling training. Not counting unfortunate or dangerous situations, this is your best opportunity to learn about the sort of dark magic used in dueling. Therefore, those of you who do not usually attend the club are encouraged to come. In addition, Professor Dumbledore will be on hand to assist Mrs. Black and provide increased insight on the subject. Hopefully," McGonagall added, skepticism etched deeply into her face, "this will prove to be valuable for your education."

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix stood a few feet to the headmaster's side, frowning. She had been under the impression that she would be teaching the lesson, but Dumbledore had largely taken over, asking Bellatrix to cast this spell or that spell—or any damn random spell—as they went through a slow, step-by-step mock duel punctuated with explanatory instruction, before the other Hogwarts professors guided the students through the exercises. Professor Dumbledore then concluded the dueling club meeting with a long list of instructions for how students could practice dueling techniques with each other without significant risk of injury or disruption to the school, announcing that he would be willing to take personal questions for a few minutes.

Thus, Bellatrix was a bit surprised when a number of students approached her to introduce themselves.

"Blaise Zabini," said one young Slytherin, holding out his hand in a formal manner.

Bellatrix shook Blaise's hand while her mind raced, instinctively tracing the Zabini bloodlines and relations. Before she could think of something clever to say, Zabini had been replaced by another student, and then another.

The Slytherins were the most forward, but the smallest drain on her time. They wanted to establish the connection and make the acquaintance, but because Bellatrix was a largely unknown commodity, none wanted to get too close to her as of yet absent clear purpose or need.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs generally had questions about the lesson or magic. Bellatrix directed them to the Headmaster. If he wanted to teach so desperately, Bellatrix thought, then he can answer all the questions about the lesson. One redheaded Hufflepuff wanted to make the acquaintance of Bellatrix quite specifically, however.

"My name is Susan Bones," the redhead announced to Bellatrix. "My auntie, Amelia Bones, is an auror."

"How nice," Bellatrix said, feigning sincerity while she considered the House of Bones. "An excellent career choice."

"Are you Harry Ashworth's wife?" Susan asked plainly.

Bellatrix smiled. I thought Gryffindors were the ones who charged ahead. "That or widow," Bellatrix coyly replied. "It depends on whether he is alive."

Susan was plainly nonplused, asking after a pause, "So is he alive or not?"

"I am not about to say," Bellatrix said. "I find more amusement that way."

"Is it true that Ashworth was your father's confidante?"

"Spy, confidante, advisor, and son-in-law," Bellatrix said expansively, ideas suddenly unfolding in her mind as she reflected upon the Bones bloodlines and estimated Amelia Bones' relative importance in the Ministry.

Satisfied, Susan Bones thanked Bellatrix for the lesson and turned to leave, but was briefly stopped by Bellatrix. "Send Auror Bones my respects," Bellatrix added in a casual voice before turning to the next student, a Ravenclaw.

Finally, as the last of the students drifted from the room, Bellatrix realized that none of the Gryffindors had seen fit to greet Bellatrix—except for the trio of Rose, Leo, and Ginny.

"We see that you have been busy," Rose said quietly.

"You could say that," Bellatrix said, nodding.

"We could help you," Rose offered.

"From inside of Hogwarts?" Bellatrix smirked.

"You never know," Rose retorted as Leo looked around to make sure no one was picking up on the conversation.

If nothing else, Bellatrix thought, smiling to herself, involving the daughter of James Potter in my machinations will royally annoy him. "When is your next Hogsmeade weekend?" Bellatrix asked sweetly.

"Next weekend," Rose replied. "Are you going to meet us?"

"It is an option," Bellatrix said vaguely. "Keep an eye out that weekend, and maybe I will approach you."

As Leo coughed loudly, Bellatrix turned to see that Professor Dumbledore was walking towards her.

"See you later, kids," Bellatrix said quietly just before Dumbledore arrived.

"There is some refreshment awaiting us in my office," Dumbledore told Bellatrix, his expression neutral as he watched Rose, Leo, and Ginny retreat.

"Sounds great," she said with incomplete sincerity.

While he and Bellatrix walked back towards Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster nattered on about how well the lesson had gone. And how he felt that it was important to teach the students how to stand up to a Death Eater attack. And that, although it certainly was unfortunate, that it was a necessity.

Bellatrix squelched the instinct to roll her eyes, as she and Dumbledore entered the Headmaster's office. Bellatrix frowned openly, however, when she found that the refreshments had been bait for an ambush. Alastor Moody and Lily Potter had been sitting in wait.

"How did the lesson go, Albus?" Lily asked, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to the Headmaster, who murmured his thanks as he sat behind his desk.

"It was very good," Dumbledore said. "I think Mrs. Black brought an important contribution to the overall learning experience."

"You are very welcome," Bellatrix said, grudgingly accepting the cup of tea from Lily and pretending to take a sip after sitting down. No veritaserum for me, thanks.

The quartet sat in expectant silence for several minutes. Bellatrix sensed that they were probably hoping that she would say something to help move the conversation forward, but Albus's little ambush had put her in no mood to comply. Whatever it was they wanted, they would have to accept the embarrassment of bringing it up directly.

Alastor Moody, however, was immune to embarrassment. "You've been out terrorizing Death Eaters with the ghost of Harry Ashworth again."

"I never expressed any commitment to cease doing so," Bellatrix said crossly, glaring at Dumbledore as she placed the teacup atop his desk.

"We are interested in how you do it," Lily said, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I distract them with the ghost of Ashworth." Bellatrix said simply, "and wallop them from behind."

"We are wondering about the spell you use to project the ghost of Ashworth," Professor Dumbledore declared.

"Another clever ploy to determine whether he is alive," Bellatrix said, grinning as if she were on the verge of openly snickering at them.

"Yes, we would like to know whether Ashworth is alive," Moody growled. "If he is, we would rather speak to him than to you. So, why don't you tell us?"

"Wondering keeps the Dark Lord on edge," Bellatrix chimed sweetly.

"You can tell us," Lily urged. "Nobody here is working for him."

Bellatrix appeared to consider seriously their request, thinking to herself, Harry's mother did manage to deal Riddle a most bitter defeat, after all. Finally, she made an offer. "I will show you the spell that summons the ghost of Ashworth," Bellatrix demurred.

"Really?" Lily said, ever the eager student.

"Yes," Bellatrix said respectfully, directly to Lily, "really," Standing up and drawing her wand, Bellatrix cried, "Illusio spiritum!"

In a darker corner of the office, the ghostly form of Harry Ashworth instantly appeared.

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said, honestly impressed. "You developed this spell yourself?"

"Yes," replied Bellatrix smugly. "You can call up the image with the incantation. Then, as you can see, twisting the wand causes the eyes to flare. Guiding it around is quite simple, too." She then released the spell from the wand and the ghost faded away after a couple of moments. "I would appreciate it if you did not make liberal use of this. The point of creating the spell is to keep the Dark Lord on his guard."

"Quite so," Dumbledore said as Bellatrix returned to her chair and Lily took Bellatrix's place on the floor.

"Illusio spiritum!" Lily called out. The ghost appeared. She gestured her wand to bring the ghost closer, but as the form moved into the better lit part of the office, it became very difficult to see.

"What kind of arithmancy did you do to get the exact form of Harry Ashworth to respond to the incantation?" Dumbledore asked.

"Harry's form is not tied to the incantation," Bellatrix answered. "Imagine what you want to appear, and that is what will appear, albeit, in a ghostly form."

"Marvelous," Dumbledore praised. "You, Mrs. Black, have great talent. Something you and Mrs. Potter very much share."

"Thank you," Bellatrix responded, watching thoughtfully as a somewhat forlorn Lily guided Harry's ghost back into the darkness, better to gaze upon it.

~!~!~!~!~!

Shadows cloaked the graveyard that sat adjacent to the ruins of the Black Family's abandoned ancestral manor of Ravenbourgh. A pair of apparition pops heralded the arrival of Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape. Narcissa pocketed her wand, but Snape kept his drawn as his eyes darted between the Black family's headstones.

"This way," Narcissa murmured quietly, motioning toward the resting place of her parents.

Snape glanced at Narcissa. Though she had pointed the way, she was not moving. He resisted the impulse to sneer. "You can't think your sister is so dangerous that she could overpower the both of us."

"You do not know my sister," Narcissa said quietly.

Shaking his head, Snape took her arm and reassuringly moved forward with her. "You two are family."

"She might not believe I am part of the family if she has concluded that I have supported the Death Eaters," Narcissa said.

"I always thought she and the Blacks favored the Dark Arts," Snape argued.

"She favors power," Narcissa said. "And vengeance for the death of her father and uncle, and possibly for the death of Harry Ashworth."

Snape nodded, his head swiveling back and forth as he watched for any risks. Just as he prepared to ask more about Narcissa's knowledge of Bellatrix and Ashworth, he and Narcissa arrived at the gravestone of the late Minister Black. Perched on a rather large tomb next to Cygnus Black's gravestone was Bellatrix. Standing next to the grave was the ghostly form of Harry Ashworth.

"Do you really think you can intimidate us with that parlor trick?" Snape sneered. Dumbledore had passed on the information about how Bellatrix had been using the form of Harry Ashworth. The Order was now largely convinced that Bellatrix was acting on her own, although they remained quite uncertain about her motivations. While Snape was unsure whether he bought the idea that Bellatrix had decided to exact revenge for her father's death—after all this time—he lacked a better explanation.

Snape's emotions about the apparent confirmation of Harry Ashworth's death were also jumbled. Vividly, he could still remember his confrontation with Professor Ashworth after he had been caught helping Narcissa in her attempt to leave Hogwarts and join Lucius. He had resented Ashworth then, but as Snape reflected back, he found Ashworth's bluntness refreshing. It would have done the Order good to have Ashworth's influence. Despite these thoughts, Snape maintained his sneer toward the apparition of the late Ashworth, since tonight, he and Narcissa dealt with Bellatrix, not their old potions professor.

Bellatrix smiled crookedly in response to Snape's jibe, raising her hand to shoo the ghost away. At her command, Harry Ashworth's ghostly form evaporated into the night air, disappearing from view.

"What do you want from me?" Narcissa demanded, fighting a tremble in her voice that she was sure Snape detected. Narcissa feared Bellatrix might have been able to detect her sister's nervousness, as well, but her nominally older sibling appeared more focused on their surroundings than on anything else. Narcissa took that as a good sign. It meant that Bellatrix did not regard her as an opponent—for the moment, at least.

"Maybe I just want family fellowship," Bellatrix defended half-heartedly.

"I do not think so," Narcissa said flatly. "The letter your house elf delivered did not bear even the semblance of familial regard."

Bellatrix slid down from her perch, walked over to Narcissa, and stared into her eyes. It was not a searching gaze—rather, it was meant to intimidate. "I want Peter Pettigrew. Alive."

"I . . . I do not have him," Narcissa protested.

"I understand that your son and Lucius are searching for him. Surely, you know where they can be found," Bellatrix said.

Inwardly, Snape cursed Professor Dumbledore. The aged headmaster must have told Bellatrix about Lucius and Draco searching for Peter. Involuntarily, his wand arm twitched. I will not let yet another person in Narcissa's life exploit her, he thought fiercely to himself. Before Snape had managed to level his wand arm, however, he blinked, and to his great surprise found Bellatrix's wand already pointed directly at the spot between his eyes.

"You would lose, Severus," Bellatrix growled menacingly, "and you would lose badly. I do not think you can comprehend how bad it would be."

Still pointing her wand toward Snape, Bellatrix looked at her sister. "If I can have Pettigrew, this war will end more quickly. I will make sure that it goes well for you after the war—particularly if you help me in this thing."

"The Dark Lord will kill Draco," Narcissa whispered fearfully.

"As Peter himself has proven," Bellatrix stated plainly, "Tom Riddle cannot kill someone he cannot find."

"You make it sound too simple," Narcissa fretted.

"It is that simple," Bellatrix declared. "You tell me where they are. Presumably, if your husband is not a total idiot, Pettigrew is in the locale. I, a more talented person than Lucius, will find and capture Pettigrew. I will even capture Draco. As far as everyone is concerned, Draco and Peter will be missing and presumed dead. Your precious son can sit out the rest of the war."

"What about Lucius?" Narcissa asked halfheartedly.

Bellatrix shifted her glance back and forth from Severus and Narcissa. "It does not seem to me that you two are eager to see him come home, or continue living."

"How dare you!" Snape hissed.

"You cannot just go kill my husband," Narcissa said weakly.

"Your husband helped kill our father," Bellatrix said icily. "He helped kill his own father. He is a blood traitor. To be blunt, Lucius Malfoy does not figure in my vision of our world's future."

Snape was outraged, but Narcissa put a hand on his forearm, restraining him from speaking or moving. After a bit, she spoke up. "You can do as you will, but if I tell you where they are, you have to see to it that my son comes back to England safely."

"Very well," Bellatrix agreed. "In exchange for you telling me where I can find both Lucius and Draco, I will pursue every reasonable step available to me for having your son brought back to England."

"And hidden from the Dark Lord," Narcissa added.

"And hidden from your half-blood Dark Lord, Tom Riddle," Bellatrix replied evenly.

"Your oath," Narcissa demanded.

Bellatrix shrugged uncomfortably. "Your son's welfare is at best a peripheral concern to me. I cannot afford to be bound by oaths that could interfere with my quest against Riddle."

"He is your nephew, for Merlin's sake," Narcissa pleaded. She had first viewed herself as having the upper hand in this bargain, but now she realized Bellatrix had the advantage. Refusing to help Bellatrix find Pettigrew would annoy and inconvenience her. But Narcissa now could see a way—her only way—to get her son out of the war, and she wanted it desperately. While under Voldemort's near-constant supervision, Narcissa could neither hunt for her son nor smuggle him to safety. Bellatrix could perform for Narcissa and her son a service no one else in Magical Britain—including the Order—would likely be willing to perform.

"I have never even met this nephew of whom you imagine I should be so fond," Bellatrix responded coldly.

"This nephew could very well inherit your estate, Bellatrix," Narcissa pointed out. "Even if Professor Ashworth was still alive, I do not see you having children."

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, stammering in the face of Narcissa's retort. Where's that vicious tongue of mine when I actually need the damn thing, Bellatrix thought bitterly. "I . . . I . . . well . . . Sirius would inherit everything! Or his son." Bellatrix then paused, thinking of her husband's kisses. "And you never know. I might have a child or two after this war."

Having placed Bellatrix briefly on the defensive, Narcissa seized the chance to plead Draco's case. "Please, Bellatrix," Narcissa begged. "I am willing to tell you. Just promise me that you will do good by Draco."

"I guess I could swear an oath to not kill Draco and to help him when I can," Bellatrix said.

Knowing at that moment that Bellatrix would promise nothing more, Narcissa satisfied herself with her sister's proffered oath. Narcissa drew her own wand before the sisters exchanged magical oaths while Snape sulkily watched. Narcissa then revealed to Bellatrix everything she knew about Lucius and Draco's whereabouts. "They've been in Albania," she began.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix watched Narcissa and Snape apparate away. Once they were gone, she waited for her husband to show himself. Bellatrix felt the warmth of Harry's breath on her neck, marveling again at her reflexive response. Placing his mouth next to her ear, Harry whispered amusedly, "Well, I'll be a ferret's uncle."

Bellatrix turned her head and looked into his eyes. "What?"

"Never mind," Harry laughed. "Let's go."

Harry and Bellatrix double apparated back to their flat in Manchester together. Bellatrix wandered into their bedroom to change into something more comfortable before returning to the kitchen to find Harry holding the fridge door open.

"We can just have something frozen," Bellatrix suggested.

Harry grinned as he shut the fridge, opened the freezer, and selected a pair of frozen dinners. "You've become rather fond of the frozen food aisle at the Muggle grocery store, haven't you?"

"Well, if Kreacher would do some cooking around here," Bellatrix replied somewhat defensively, "maybe I could forego frozen food."

Harry smiled as he used his wand to cast a warming charm on his frozen meal. "Or, you could learn how to cook. I would rather not eat anything Kreacher has prepared."

Bellatrix warmed her own meal and followed Harry to their mahogany dining table. They sat down across from each other, the plastic frozen food trays clashing terribly with the table and the candlesticks Bellatrix had used to decorate it.

Somewhat tired, they focused on eating. However, Bellatrix eventually broke the silence. "I suppose we are going to Albania."

"No," said Harry slowly as he chewed his food, "I think I will go to Albania. It would be best if you stayed here and maintained the ghost of Ashworth's random appearances and did more research on horcruxes."

"You are the one who has been making the ghost appearances," Bellatrix said. "You should continue."

"Have you ever been to Albania?" Harry asked.

"No. Have you?"

"No."

"I guess you had better cook up another argument," Bellatrix parried.

"Peter will likely be disguised in his rat animagus form," Harry said.

"And you are a rat animagus also?"

"No," admitted Harry, "but I speak parseltongue. I can interrogate the snakes in Albania and find out if they've run across any strange rats."

"Rats that they probably ate?" Bellatrix asked, eyebrows raised.

"No," Harry smirked, "rats that strangely were able to elude being eaten."

"Whatever," Bellatrix said, conceding to Harry's proposal to go to Albania while she held down the fort. "I suppose I shall have to prepare some sort of facility where we can hold Peter and Draco prisoner. There is also plenty of horcrux research to do."

"When did we decide to hold Draco prisoner?" Harry asked, setting down his fork and using his wand to banish the fork and the empty dinner tray away.

Bellatrix gave Harry an annoyed look. "Did you really think I would just hand Draco over to my sister? I am going to hold the miserable boy prisoner and milk his mother for all she is worth."

Harry cast his mind back to when Bellatrix had sworn the magical oath. "I guess you did leave yourself quite a bit of room in that oath."

Bellatrix looked at him smugly. "Yes, I did."

"I'm not sure how much Narcissa is worth, though," Harry said.

Bellatrix finished her dinner and summoned an empty glass and a bottle of wine. "Her worth, at the moment, is inestimable," Bellatrix declared. She poured herself a glass of wine and offered the bottle to Harry, who declined by shaking his head. "However," she added, savoring the wine in sips, "that shall be my project alone for the time being."

"Great," Harry said, already dismissing Narcissa's supposed value and beginning to consider just how he would get to Albania. Magical transportation could attract unwanted attention, Harry thought, but I'm not terribly eager to ride a Muggle train, either.

"When will you leave?" Bellatrix asked, emptying her wineglass.

"Tomorrow, I should think," Harry replied.

Setting her empty glass on the tabletop for Kreacher to clean up later—assuming he bothers to appear before the next meal, Bellatrix thought—Bellatrix lifted herself into Harry's arms, again pressing herself into his chest as she kissed him deeply. "Time for bed?" she smiled.

~!~!~!~!~!

Petunia Dursley was in the process of washing her dishes when the local furniture store's delivery van pulled up to #2 Privet Drive. She paused momentarily, holding a half dried dish in her hand as the workers opened up the back and began to unload various articles of furniture before carrying them into the house next door.

Instinctively, she twisted her head to call out to Vernon that it looked like someone might finally be moving into #2, then remembered that Vernon was at work. She finished up the dishes as she watched the deliverymen carry in couches, tables, and beds. They were still at work when Petunia left the house and made her way to the nearest shop to buy some sort of welcoming gift.

When she came home from the shop, gift in hand, wrapped and ready to be delivered to the new neighbor, the van was just pulling away. Smugly, Petunia calculated that she would be the first in the neighborhood to greet the new residents. It would be she who had the first shot at determining whether these people would be an acceptable addition to the neighborhood. Or not.

Petunia practically pranced up the front steps carrying the Trojan horse gift bag. Posing carefully, she rapped smartly on the door. In a few seconds, a middle-aged woman with light brown hair answered the door and greeted Petunia.

"My name is Petunia Dursley, and I'm from next door," Petunia explained. "I thought you might like a little something to welcome you."

The woman's smile was positively predatory, but she spoke graciously, accepting the Trojan horse from her horse-faced neighbor without even glancing into the bag. "How nice of you!" she exclaimed. "Do come in. My name is Trixie White."

32. An Almost Clever Rat

A/N: As always, thank you to those of you who review. It really helps me.

Chapter 31: An Almost Clever Rat

By

Lord Silvere

Shrouded in darkness, Harry stood near the gate of a large estate, which was located near a village situated deep in the Albanian forest. Narcissa's information had proven accurate and had led Harry to where Lucius and Draco were staying—a small castle owned by the Morina family. The Morinas were Albanian purebloods loosely affiliated with Lord Voldemort and anything that seemed Dark. They did not necessarily take orders from the Dark Lord, but most Death Eaters knew that those who served Voldemort could find lodging and aid with the House of Morina during their trips to or through Albania.

From what Harry could ascertain, Wormtail had made use of the Morina's hospitality before Voldemort's orders that he was to be taken prisoner and returned to England had spread widely enough to make Wormtail's travel difficult. For the Malfoys, tracking Pettigrew this far had been child's play—especially since the Morinas had contacted the Death Eaters as soon as they had realized that they had given aid to a fugitive. Their alarm had been sounded too late, however. Pettigrew had possessed the good sense to disappear well before any Death Eaters could capture him.

Shortly after the Morinas had contacted Voldemort, Lucius had arrived with his son and promptly theorized that Wormtail must still be in the area. The reasoning behind this decision was unclear to Harry. However, Harry did suspect that Lucius's reasoning was motivated by his desire to have an excuse to use the castle as a base of operations.

Retreating from the gate, Harry faded into the forest. In the shadow of a large tree, he cast a number of shields and protective wards around himself before casting the image projection spell and guiding his incorporeal form past the castle walls, across the courtyard, and into suite of rooms that Lucius and Draco were occupying within the heart of the castle.

Harry ascertained that Lucius and Draco were both sleeping as he passed swiftly through both of their sleeping chambers. He then moved to the main sitting room where the two Malfoys did their conniving. They had spread various maps of Albania on the table along with lists of and notes on local magical families.

In the past days, Harry's tracking charms indicated that the Malfoys had not left the castle once. Given that none of Lucius and Draco's papers had been moved from their position the night before, Harry concluded that the Malfoys had made no progress in tracking Pettigrew. He even wondered whether they had even given their assignment from Voldemort a second thought in the more recent days.

Seeing that there was no point in lingering, Harry cancelled the image projection spell and found himself back with his body in the forest outside of the castle. He removed the protection spells and disapparated from the forest outside the castle to a clearing just outside the nearby village.

Careful to stay within the shadows, Harry moved through the village toward the small pub in which he had been able to rent a room despite his inability to speak the local language. Just before emerging from obscurity and into the bustle of the pub, Harry cast a number of charms on himself. His face and skin aged and hair lightened to gray while the rims of his glasses became thicker and adopted a tortoise-shell design.

Harry was now the harmless novel writer here in Albania to scope out the territory for his latest wizard/vampire novel. While publishers had not quite yet gotten around to publishing his prior works, he was sure that the manuscript on which he was working would be his big break.

Then, mostly anonymously, Harry entered the pub, shambled toward the staircase, and made his way up to his room where he warded his sleeping chambers extensively with protection charms before retiring to bed.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Announced by a faint popping sound, Bellatrix appeared in the basement of #2 Privet Drive and withdrew a small box from her pocket. Setting the box on the floor, Bellatrix waved her wand, and a quick enlarging charm transformed the box into a large trunk. Some more wand work opened the box and summoned from its seemingly bottomless depths a couple of dozen boxes of ceramic tiles along with a number of other construction supplies.

Just as Bellatrix finished unloading the trunk, the doorbell rang. Hastily, she shut the trunk and pushed it into a corner before running upstairs, casting glamour charms on herself with practiced ease. She opened her front door to find a Muggle contractor and his six employees standing on her porch.

"Mrs. White?" he asked.

"Yes," Bellatrix admitted, the timbre of her voice a little bit brighter than was normal.

"We're here for the work on your house," the contractor said, his eyes peering past Bellatrix at the inside of the house.

"Of course," Bellatrix said, swinging the door wide open and motioning for the contractor and his workers to come in. "I will show you everything, explain what I need, and then get out of your way for the rest of the day." She proceeded toward the basement, the contractor following her only after directing his workers to start unloading their equipment.

"I already explained to you what it is I want done in the kitchen, bedrooms, and living area," Bellatrix said as she stepped down the stairs, the contractor following her. "If you are faced with a decision regarding décor, use your judgment and know that I will reimburse you accordingly. I am not going to be very fussy about those parts of the house."

"Right," the contractor said gruffly, his voice reflecting a happy medium between being pleased at having free rein and annoyed at having to do more than follow precise design instructions.

"However, as I mentioned on the phone, I am going to be demanding when it comes to the basement's corner storage room over there," Bellatrix said as they reached the place where she had deposited the ceramic tiles and construction supplies.

"As long as your instructions are specific and make sense, there should not be a problem," the contractor declared as he tilted his head to catch a view of the room through the partially open door.

"Indeed," Bellatrix said, making a great show of ripping open one of the boxes of ceramic tiles. "I want you to cover the floor, walls, and ceiling with these tiles." She picked one up. "I understand that the normal practice is to allow plenty of room for grout. I do not want that. I want no space whatsoever between each tile. If the tiles are not even enough, cut, sand, or grind down the edge."

The contractor was nodding, though looking at Bellatrix slightly askance.

"However," Bellatrix continued, flipping over the sample tile, "you must not install any tile that does not have this design in its entirety on the back."

The contractor stepped closer to Bellatrix and looked down at the tile. An extremely complicated design of symbols and lines had been etched into the back of the tile near the center. "Very well," he said.

"Understand," Bellatrix said, "I will have a way of testing whether you have done this properly. If you have not done it properly, I will not be pleased."

"Never fear, ma'am," the contractor said, taking the tile away from her hands. "My boys can do a fine job of this. However," he said as he flipped over the tile and looked at the marble pattern, "if we focus on making sure your back symbol is proper, we're likely to have trouble with getting the top design lined up with each tile."

Bellatrix looked at the wavy marble design on the ceramic tile with a conniving smile. "That is perfectly all right with me. After all, it is just a storage room. It is not as if I have to stare at the walls all day."

"Of course, ma'am," the contractor said, returning the tile to the package from which Bellatrix had retrieved it.

Bellatrix nodded and motioned to several buckets near the boxes of tile. "I would also prefer if you used that material to glue the tiles in place."

"As you wish," said the contractor, looking at the buckets dubiously.

Bellatrix proceeded upstairs alone and made her exit, leaving the workers to their job. As she departed from her front yard, she noted that Petunia Dursley was watching the workers unload materials and equipment from one of the contractor's trucks. Bellatrix caught Petunia's eye and waved smarmily, knowing full well that Harry's pseudo-aunt would be embarrassed at being spotted and simultaneously jealous that she was not getting a new kitchen, bath, and basement dungeon.

~!~!~!~!

"Your husband has been slothful!" Voldemort hissed, his pincer-like fingers wrapping around Narcissa Malfoy's throat and lightly squeezing. Her eyes bugged out as she tried in vain to take a breath of air. Eventually, wanting an answer, Voldemort loosened his grip slightly.

Narcissa let out a very loud gasp. Resisting the urge the hyperventilate, she spoke. "He has diligently been searching, my lord, I swear."

"He should have brought Pettigrew back by now," Voldemort intoned. "Instead, he sits and waits."

"I am confident that he has a plan to lure Pettigrew to him," Narcissa breathed out, knowing no such thing for sure. Desperately, she realized that she needed to sell the impression that that it was only a matter of time before Pettigrew fell into Lucius's hands. If Voldemort decided that Lucius was not likely to succeed, he would send someone else or go himself. Neither alternative boded well for Draco, even if Bellatrix could be trusted to exert her full efforts on Draco's behalf.

Voldemort continued to gaze at Narcissa as if he was savoring the terror in her eyes. Slowly, he let his hand drop before suddenly bringing it up and slapping her viciously across the face. "Tell Lucius that I want results—immediately."

"I will, my lord, I will," Narcissa whispered as Voldemort moved toward the center of the circle of Death Eaters gathered in one of the rooms of Malfoy Manor.

"You," Voldemort barked, suddenly approaching one of the Death Eaters who had the good fortune to be able to remain masked in front of his fellows. "What have you found on Ashworth?"

"Little," the Death Eater replied timidly. "Bellatrix Black, his alleged wife, has been seen in public several times. Professor Dumbledore even invited her to teach a class on dueling and the Dark Arts."

Narcissa closed her eyes. Please don't ask me about my sister, she begged as she watched Voldemort stalk among some of his loyal followers.

"It could be that Mrs. Black is behind these ghost attacks," one of the Death Eaters in good standing suggested.

"Perhaps," Voldemort acknowledged. "Perhaps." He paced silently, before suddenly turning to the masked figure that Narcissa knew was Severus Snape.

"What is known of Ashworth among your contacts?" Voldemort demanded.

"Still—nothing more than is generally known," Snape said. "They have interacted with Bellatrix Black. From what I gather, she is reticent concerning her whereabouts these past years and has said little about the late Professor Ashworth."

"The late Professor Ashworth?" Voldemort hissed questioningly, his whisper slicing the thick atmosphere like a razor. "Are you so sure that Harry Ashworth has passed on?"

Snape shifted almost imperceptibly shifted his weight, somehow maintaining his cool mask in the Dark Lord's presence. "Bellatrix Black is the same brat she always was. She has set her eye on something—perhaps political influence—and is using whatever resources she has to get it. In this case, she has the mysterious past of her deceased lover with which to frighten people."

"The symptoms of your diagnosis are certainly there," Voldemort said, leaving Snape and resuming his prowl amongst the Death Eaters that had been summoned to this particular meeting. "But there are other symptoms. At times, I can feel Ashworth as if he is lurking nearby—watching me and waiting to pounce. And the fiendfyre."

"Nearly anybody with a bit of power and a decent wand can set fiendfyre," one practical Death Eater declared tiredly, sounding as if he had said that phrase dozens of times.

"But it was his trademark!" Voldemort erupted, hissing at the Death Eaters and spinning to glare at anyone who might challenge him.

"My lord," came Rodolphus Lestrange's confident and eager voice, echoing in the chamber, "clearly, this is a ploy to knock you off balance. Given what you have told us about your final duel with Harry Ashworth, there is no possible way that he could have survived. Obviously, Bellatrix did. Fearing for her life, she no doubt fled with whatever money she inherited from her father. Have you considered that the Order may have found her and recruited her in a scheme to resurrect some ghost from your past? The Order is probably behind these mysterious ghost attacks. They are waging psychological warfare against you."

"Did you not hear me?" Voldemort nearly screamed, stalking toward Lestrange. "I can feel Harry Ashworth's presence. This is his work. I know it. He is waiting, getting ready to pounce."

"Then pounce first," Lestrange said boldly, seamlessly abandoning his tact that Ashworth was dead and moving to give counsel on what to do against Ashworth.

"I cannot!" Voldemort barked. "I cannot strike against him because none of you can find him. Find him!

"As you command, my lord," Lestrange intoned.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry woke with a start, rubbing his scar and groaning. For the first time in a long while, the scar's connection to Voldemort had been clear enough for Harry to hear what Voldemort was saying and hearing. It presented Harry an advantage, though the side effects were not welcome. It also presented reason for Harry to be nervous. From the time Harry had traveled to the past until now, the connection to Voldemort had largely been dormant with the occasional exception. If Voldemort became angrier and fearful more often, Harry reckoned he might need to find a newer and better way to cope with the connection.

Despite it being quite late, Harry rolled out of bed and walked to cramped closet that the pub owner had described as the restroom. He grabbed a painkiller potion vial from his toiletry bag, downed the contents, and washed the aftertaste down with a gulp of water.

After examining his scar in the mirror for a bit, Harry toddled back to the bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. From a drawer in the room's desk, Harry withdrew a small sheet of parchment and a self-inking quill.

Dear Bella,

Still no sign of Pettigrew.

Harry stopped writing and frowned. How was he to explain the next thing he wanted to say?

If you find work for the ghost of Ashworth, be careful. I have reason to believe that Rodolphus Lestrange will be either following you directly or trying to understand the magic behind the ghost. Don't let your guard down.

With love, Harry.

Harry finished and folded up the note, leaving it on the table so that he would see and remember to mail it on his way out. Reluctantly, he got dressed and prepared for the day. If what he had seen was any sign of things to come, Lucius would be getting a sharply worded letter from his wife. It might even compel him to leave the Morina castle and make some token effort to search for Pettigrew. If that was the case, Harry needed to check his strategically placed forest wards and talk to as many snakes as possible before Lucius and Draco stirred from the castle.

~!~!~!~!~!

"And to go along with my hot cider, I shall have a helping of fried fish," Rose Potter informed Madame Rosmerta.

"Will there be anything else?" Madame Rosmerta asked, eyeing Rose sideways.

"No, I believe that will suffice," Rose declared, producing a pair of sickles and placing them on the counter.

"Very well," Rosmerta said, her eyes moving from Rose and settling on Leo. "What will yours be, sweetie?"

Leo grinned amiably as he handed over a sickle. "Just butterbeer, thanks."

Madame Rosmerta accepted the sickle and then reached under the counter to fetch a bottle of butterbeer and fill a mug of hot cider. "The fish will be out in a bit," she told Rose as she handed over the bottle to Leo and the cider to Rose.

"Good," Rose said absently as she scanned the room.

"Which way did Ginny go?" Leo asked.

"I am not sure," Rose said, frowning.

"Wait, there she is," Leo said, pointing to a booth in one of the darker rooms of the Three Broomsticks. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere."

They made their way across the room to the booth and discovered that Ginny was not alone.

"Surprised?" Bellatrix asked. She was holding a blood lollipop and grinning at them from behind white teeth stained by red streaks. Interestingly, she had donned Slytherin robes and was lounging in them just as if she was a student. Leo had no doubt that she would go unnoticed by the students.

"Do those even taste good?" Leo asked, setting his butterbeer bottle down on the table and sliding into the booth, seating himself next to Bellatrix. Ginny had sat in the seat opposite Bellatrix. Not a fan of Bellatrix, Ginny was in the process of using her own butterbeer bottle to hide the sour expression on her face.

"They are an acquired taste," Bellatrix explained as Rose sat opposite Leo.

"You fit into your old school robes remarkably well," Rose observed in a neutral voice as she stared Bellatrix in the eyes.

"I bet your mom wishes she still fit in her old school robes," Bellatrix shot back.

"For all you know, she may still fit in her school robes," Rose argued.

Bellatrix looked at Leo. "Do you think Mrs. Potter still could fit into her old school robes?"

"Uh, no comment," Leo said smoothly.

"And how is your husband these days?" Ginny suddenly cut in.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and shot a chilling stare at Ginny before lazily drawing her wand and casting some privacy wards. "He is doing well," Bellatrix replied. "For all you know, he has his wand pointed at you this very instant."

"I doubt it," Rose said. "He knows we are friends and would sit with us if he was here, though he would probably use a disguise so as to ensure that the Order and Death Eaters remain confused about whether he is alive or not. Thus, given his absence at this table, he probably is not even in the vicinity of Hogsmeade."

"To be logical is not necessarily to be all-knowing," Bellatrix said flatly. "There is always the piece of information you do not know or the human emotion that defies logic."

"It gets me far enough," Rose replied, ignoring her hot cider and not even noticing as Madame Rosmerta walked by the table and slipped her tray of fried fish onto the table. "The fact that you are here indicates that you are prepared to let us assist you in your husband's fight against the Dark Lord."

"It is my fight, too," Bellatrix snapped.

"Phrase it as you will," Rose said dispassionately, suddenly discovering the presence of her fried fish and taking a bite.

"What can we do, then?" Ginny asked in a slightly sharp tone of voice.

"I am in the market for more things like that diary," Bellatrix said.

"We don't really run across You-Know-Who memorabilia that often," Leo told Bellatrix.

"True," Bellatrix admitted. "However, you are uniquely situated. You parents are members of the Order. You might hear things that I would find interesting."

"We are not going to spy on our parents for you," Ginny declared.

Bellatrix ignored her. "You are also uniquely situated because you are inside Hogwarts. The Dark Lord spent a lot of time at Hogwarts. Some of the people you know were acquainted with him while he was at Hogwarts. Talk to those people. Try to trace his movements. Search the Chamber of Secrets more thoroughly for secrets. Keep track of everything you learn and report to me."

Rose was frowning. "Do you think there is something like the diary hidden in Hogwarts?"

Bellatrix paused for a moment. "The part of me that is a strategist says no. I am mainly interested in understanding the Dark Lord better."

"This sounds like awfully boring work," Leo said.

"Come see me in the summer, and I will see if I can find you something more exciting," Bellatrix offered. "Meanwhile, you will have to be content with what you can do from inside of Hogwarts."

"What unique characteristic will other objects like the diary possess?" Rose asked, staring at Bellatrix intently.

"Objects in which I am interested will have emotional value to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix explained. "They will also be surrounded with powerful defenses and have highly complex, Dark enchantments on them. If you stumble on one, do not even touch it. Contact me immediately."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" Ginny asked.

"What about him?" Bellatrix challenged.

"He should be the one to take care of something that dangerous." Ginny opined.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I guess that is your decision, Weasley." Pointedly, she turned her attention back to Rose and Leo. "Focus on finding information about the Dark Lord. Get firsthand accounts. Take note if anybody mentions specific locations for which the Dark Lord may have sentimental feelings. Harry and I will visit those places and search them. If it is summer by then, perhaps we will take you along."

"Fair enough," Leo said. "We'll let you know if we stumble on anything."

"Thank you," Bellatrix said, sticking the blood lollipop in her mouth and crunching down on it. "Now, if you would be so kind as to let me out of our booth, I will be on my way."

Leo obliged her, and soon the trio was alone. Sitting back down, Leo looked at Rose who seemed to be deep in thought. "So . . . is such an object located inside of Hogwarts?"

"We shall have to see if I can see," Rose said slowly as she munched on a piece of fried fish and stared off into space.

~!~!~!~!~!

Apparently, Voldemort's words of encouragement had reached Lucius and Draco, for they had departed from the Morinas' hospitality and had "tracked" Pettigrew to another village. In actuality, they had proceeded down a road leading to a village located slightly deeper in the Albanian Forest. Despite the fact that the village boasted a denser magical population than the previous village, the Malfoys were obliged to take residence in the local pub because there were no exceedingly rich families in or near the village and because these villagers were far too removed from the British conflict to have taken sides anyway.

Harry doubted that Lucius and Draco were following a trail, but he still approved of the move. The snakes near Morina Castle and the adjacent village had not seen any rats that possibly could be Pettigrew. Detection wards and visual observation of the surrounding area, town, and magical families had also failed to turn up any sign of Pettigrew. If he was in Albania, he was in some other village—possibly even this one, or nearby.

The fact that Lucius and Draco were staying in the local pub did complicate things a little bit, however. It meant that their rooms were just down the hall from Harry's room and their breakfast table was adjacent to Harry's breakfast table.

Sipping a cup of tea, Harry eyed Lucius and Draco from over the top of an Albania newspaper Harry was diligently pretending to read, though he supposed he could get away without the ruse. After all, Draco hardly paid attention to anyone else in the room, and Lucius was preoccupied with a list of magical families in the area.

"I think we shall start with the families further out and work our way in," Lucius told Draco. "Unless we detect immediately that they are kindred spirits, we shall merely satisfy ourselves with a few questions."

"What's the point?" Draco asked. "We're never going to find him."

"He cannot stay hidden for long," Lucius said smoothly. "Besides, we must be able to demonstrate that we have made our best efforts."

Harry decided that he was sick of the newspaper and promptly folded it up. Taking a last sip of his tea, Harry stood up and departed from the dining room, leaving a few extra knuts as a tip for whoever cleaned the table. With a little bit of preparation, he would be able to tail the Malfoys closely while simultaneously setting detection wards and interviewing the local snakes.

~!~!~!~!~!

"This way, ma'am," the receptionist directed, as she stood from her desk and drew a wand. Amelia Bones followed the receptionist through a door and into a circular room. The receptionist motioned with her wand and the room began to spin and descend to another floor. Eventually, the spinning stopped, and the receptionist guided Amelia through another door where they found a guard wearing battle robes on which the insignia of the Department of Mysteries was emblazoned.

"Auror Captain Bones is here to see Mr. Foxe," the receptionist told the guard before stepping back into the spinning room and shutting the door.

The guard did not say anything, but proceeded to lead Amelia through a labyrinth of dark passageways. After at least fifteen minutes of walking, they came to a seven-way intersection. The hall Amelia and the guard had used to get to that point served as one prong of the intersection. The other six prongs were six doors. The guard stepped ahead of Amelia and opened one of the doors after rapping on it smartly. He gestured for Amelia to step in.

Amelia did so and found herself in a low-ceilinged room with plain walls. Fireplaces flanked the room from the left and right, and bookshelves lined the far side of the room behind a table that was doing duty as a desk. Edward Foxe sat behind the desk in a high-backed chair made from mahogany and padded with black leather.

"Captain Bones," Foxe said, his voice belying a sense of power and agility that clashed somewhat with his aged features and white hair.

If Amelia was correct in her reckoning, Foxe had been head of the Department of Mysteries for over forty years. Foxe's position had originally been one of prestige back when the Ministry was pouring millions of galleons into research and magical development projects—as well as espionage assignments.

Now that the DMLE annually received the biggest slice of budget pie, Mr. Foxe and his department merely existed. Some said that Minister Prewitt did not have the guts to dismiss Foxe. Others said that Prewitt had forgotten that the department existed. Looking Foxe in the eye, Amelia could easily bring herself to believe the former.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me," Amelia began.

"You are welcome," Foxe replied, looking at Amelia expectantly.

"Since you have been here at the Ministry and have been in a position of power longer than most, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions." Amelia continued.

Foxe gestured his acquiescence with a brief nod.

"What can you tell me about Harry Ashworth?"

Foxe answered Amelia's question with a piercing gaze before setting his eyes on the fire in one of his fireplaces. "Is this an official inquiry?"

"Not at all," Amelia said. "Call it personal curiosity. What you say won't leave this room."

"Very well, but be forewarned. If what I say later proves inconvenient for me, I will deny that I ever said it." Foxe said. "My sources must be protected and my reasons for knowing what I may tell you must remain confidential. In the end, should you try to divulge information and tie it to me, you will only be able to prove that you believe I said what I said."

"That's fine," Amelia said. "Now, what can you tell me?"

"Ashworth appeared in our world near the time that we began to see symptoms of the Dark Lord's existence. Orion Black called on his services. It seems that Mr. Ashworth was a spy or informant of sorts. At Hogwarts, he probably spied on potential Death Eater recruits. Later, he developed into an advisor to Minister Black. After Orion Black's death, Ashworth played a part in influencing some of Minister Black's decisions . . . for the short amount of time that Cygnus survived his elder brother."

"You say he appeared in our world," Amelia said slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

"There are no records of his birth, childhood, or education," Foxe told Amelia. "There are forgeries and there are official documents later drawn up by Minister Black, but as far as anyone has discovered, there is nothing original."

"Do you have ways to discover whether Harry Ashworth is alive or dead?' Amelia asked.

"Yes."

"So, is Harry Ashworth alive?" Amelia asked hopefully.

Edward Foxe smiled. "That is a question I am not willing to answer."

"Why not?"

"I think it is for the greater good," Edward Foxe said. "You can chalk it up as my contribution to the war against the Dark Lord."

"You do realize that I can make official inquiries with Gringotts and with certain record-keeping departments in the Ministry."

"Not if I have taken steps to suppress and silence your potential sources," Foxe countered. "If I were you, I would ask fewer questions about Harry Ashworth and more questions about how the controversy around Ashworth could be used advantageously in your efforts to better our society." He stood and gestured to the door. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have things that need doing."

~!~!~!~!~!

Several of the detection wards Harry had placed in the forest near Village #5 were tripped the night before the Malfoys picked up and prepared to make their way to Village #6. Harry was quite disgusted that the alarms had not woken him, but rationalized that since the wards had been located in the forest just outside the inn, it was likely that a guest of the inn or perhaps a villager had tripped it. The day previous, neither Harry nor the Malfoys had been able to find any sign that Pettigrew had passed through.

As had become routine, Harry shared the breakfast hour and dining room with the Malfoys. In Village #4, he had been cheeky enough to share a table with them, but that had not proved productive because they had said very little during the entire encounter. Harry had ceased from using that particular disguise and had limited himself to eavesdropping from across the room while using another disguise.

The Malfoys finished their breakfast and retreated to their rooms to pack. Harry, already having packed his belongings, leisurely finished his breakfast before making his way to the front desk to pay his tab.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Dear Cousin," Sirius said, plastering a smile on his face as he and Alastor Moody approached Bellatrix in a posh Muggle restaurant located in Liverpool.

Nonplussed, Bellatrix shook her head in annoyance. "I hope that an awkward family reunion is not the true reason you asked me to meet you."

"It's the free food, actually," Sirius said, sitting down at Bellatrix's table and motioning for Moody to do likewise. "You're buying, right?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "If you can finish your meal before I decide to leave, you might be in luck." She reached for her wineglass and took a sip before picking up her fork and eyeing the steamed vegetables on her plate."

"Waiter!" Sirius called. "Waiter!"

"The ghost of Ashworth has not been very active of late," Moody said, trying to ignore Sirius and focus in on Bellatrix.

"I have been quite busy of late," Bellatrix replied. "Multiple irons in the fire, you know."

"Can I help you?" a frazzled server asked, finally responding to Sirius's demand for a waiter.

"I'll have what she's having, sans the vegetables," Sirius announced.

"Very good, sir," the server said stiffly, writing down the order and leaving the table.

"Albus surmised that you must be busy," Moody continued. "However, he is convinced that your tactic of haunting the Death Eaters with the ghost of Ashworth has been effective. He would like to see more of it."

"So," Bellatrix said coolly, "we are moving from disapproval of my actions to complaints that I am slacking off."

"No," Sirius clarified, "we are saying that we think you have been making a good contribution to the war effort even if we have been a tad concerned for your safety in the past. And," he said, pausing for emphasis, "it so happens that we have stumbled on a good opportunity for you to exercise your ghost of Ashworth skills in an eminently useful manner and from a position of relative safety. Besides, James was the only one who actually disapproved of your actions."

"Oh, really?" Bellatrix said, switching her fork into other hand and picking up the knife.

"The thing is," Moody said, "we have detected a number of probes on the wards surrounding the Burrow, which is of course, the residence of Arthur and Molly Weasley. We anticipate a Death Eater attack on that place very soon."

"And you want me to produce the ghost of Ashworth at the opportune moment and break up the attack," Bellatrix said, beginning to cut into her steak.

"That's part of it," Sirius said.

"Mostly, we would like to have an extra wand on hand," Moody said. "If you were to agree to spend a few nights at the Burrow to be on hand in case of an attack, the Order would be quite beholden to you."

"The Order already is quite beholden to me already, I should think," Bellatrix said, taking a bite of meat.

"And that's why we are giving you this prime opportunity!" Sirius exclaimed. "We're telling you where an attack will occur well before it has happened. Think of how many hours it would have taken you to hunt down a Death Eater attack and foil it."

"Yes," Moody said, "all you have to do is spend a few nights with Arthur and Molly. Maybe there is an attack and maybe there is not an attack. During the days, you would be free to attend to whatever business you have."

"And, if there is an attack, the ghost of Ashworth will break it up quicker than it began, I should think," Sirius declared. "I hear that even old You-Know-Who has been left quite unsettled by these appearances of Ashworth's ghost."

"I did teach Lily how to cast the spell," Bellatrix said, yawning. "Why do you not hire her?"

"She has to defend her own house," Moody pointed out.

"I have a house, too," Bellatrix said.

"Yes, but nobody knows what city it is in, let alone anything specific about it," Moody parried.

"True," Bellatrix said. "I think Lily could teach both Molly and Arthur how to use the ghost of Ashworth spell, however."

"She could," Moody admitted. "However, more than anything, it would be very comforting to us if the Weasleys had another wand on which they could rely in the next few days."

"I suppose I could spend a few nights with the Weasleys. As you say, it saves me the trouble of ferreting out an attack on my own." Bellatrix admitted.

"Now, you realize we are not promising that there will be an attack," Sirius clarified. "We only have a suspicion that an attack on the Weasley residence is being planned.

"Already covering your butt?" Bellatrix asked.

"Yes," Sirius said. "I don't want you to become angry if there is no attack or if you discover Professor Dumbledore's ulterior motives before the attack occurs."

"Ulterior motives like monitor my movements?" Bellatrix said.

"Yep."

"Like help me develop an emotional attachment to the Order?"

"Yep."

"Like get me in the habit of following Dumbledore's lead in the war?"

"Yep."

"Like watch me cast the ghost of Ashworth spell and confirm that I really am the one that has been terrorizing Death Eaters?"

"Actually, yeah."

"Anything else you care to divulge while you can?" Bellatrix asked, her lips quirking in amusement.

"Nope."

"What about you?" Bellatrix asked, narrowing her eyes at Moody.

"Suffice it to say that there actually is a threat to the Weasley family and that we believe your efforts would go far in reassuring all involved and possibly repelling an attack." Moody said, clearly annoyed that Sirius had been so willing to confirm all of Bellatrix's suspicions about Dumbledore's secondary purposes in asking Bellatrix to help the Weasley family.

"All right," Bellatrix said after finishing her last scrap of meat and taking a final sip of wine. "Let me stop off at my place and pack a few things."

"I need some time to eat this," Sirius said as the server appeared with his order.

"Get a doggie bag," Bellatrix said, producing a Gringotts First National Bank of London credit card and handing it to the server as soon as the woman serving had placed Sirius's order on the table.

"You'll pay for this," Sirius complained as they waited for the server to return with Bellatrix's card and Sirius's doggie bag.

"I just did," Bellatrix said.

"I mean there will be revenge for not letting me finish my food."

"Seriously?" Bellatrix said deadpan, and before Sirius could respond, she continued. "I will apparate back to my place and rendezvous with you by the lamppost."

"That should be acceptable," Moody said as the server returned, card and doggie bag in hand.

"Great," Bellatrix said. "Do not follow me."

"Try and stop us," Sirius grumbled.

Bellatrix shrugged and after waiting for Sirius to pack away his food into the doggie bag, she departed from the table, making a beeline for the women's restroom. "Ta-ta," she said as she stepped in and let the door swing shut behind her. She then shut herself in a stall and apparated away.

~!~!~!~!~!

Moody allowed the moving staircase to carry him up to Professor Dumbledore's office where he found the headmaster and Lily Potter waiting for him. Without waiting for Dumbledore's customary offer, he reached out and grabbed a handful of lemon drops while grunting a response to Albus and Lily's greetings as he settled himself in an available chair.

"Well," he declared, "she agreed to go and be on hand for the possible attack."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore observed, also helping himself to a lemon drop.

"She did see through most of your motives—particularly your theory that we might confirm whether she's actually the one terrorizing Death Eaters with the ghost of Ashworth." Moody continued.

"That was not completely unexpected," Dumbledore said, letting out a disappointed sigh. "Though, it is probably a moot point. We have not detected any sign that she is operating in cahoots with anyone."

"Now, if her performance with the ghost of Ashworth fails to meet expectations, we'll have to assume she did it on purpose to annoy us and cause us to wonder whether Ashworth might have actually survived," Moody growled.

"Yes, it is an aggravating situation," Dumbledore admitted.

"Did she show any sign of realizing that part of our motive is drawing her into a closer friendship with us?" Lily asked.

Moody shrugged. "Yeah, though her phraseology for that sentiment was quite jaded.

"Sincerity on our part will overcome her cold heart, I think," Dumbledore observed.

Lily was quick to jump in on this point. "I think she was raised without a lot of love in her family. If Professor Ashworth died, she must have been so lonely."

"And then we show her kindness and affection, eventually making her part of our loving family," Moody said sarcastically.

Lily glared at the retired auror. "That is precisely what we do."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned back in his chair. "I am not so sure Mrs. Black will allow her relationship with us to become that close. However, we must work to bring her into the Order, and then I think even into our inner circle if we can establish some sort of trust between us."

"Our inner circle?" Lily questioned. "Don't you think that is going too far?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Bellatrix Black was fighting this war before any of us. I also mentioned at a previous meeting that she has made more progress against Voldemort than all of us combined—and when I say that, I am not even taking into account the effect her ghost of Ashworth ploy is having on the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort."

Moody was nodding, though perhaps a little bit grudgingly. "I remember you saying that, but you have not yet let Lily and me into your confidence as to what Bellatrix has done that is so important."

"I am afraid, my friends, that tonight is not the right time to discuss that matter," Dumbledore said slowly. "I want to corner Mrs. Black and discuss some of the details of the situation with her before I have the Order as a whole start taking action."

"I am not sure that you should be giving her that much influence in the Order," Lily opined.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I am now convinced that the prophecy regarding Lord Voldemort's downfall relates to her."

"How is that?" Moody asked.

"Bellatrix qualifies as Daughter of the Stars," Dumbledore declared. "Her father was Cygnus, named for the constellation. Her uncle was Orion, named for a constellation as well. She carries on their crusade. Undoubtedly, she is the Daughter of the Stars."

"Well great," Moody said. "I seem to remember, though, that Lord Black is the one who is equal to the Dark Lord, according to the prophecy. The last time I checked, Bellatrix isn't a wizard."

"It is possible that the prophecy was referring to the influence Lord Black could have beyond the grave. In that instance, it could be that Orion or Cygnus is the subject of the prophecy," Dumbledore speculated.

"And what does that do for us?" Moody asked.

"Not much, other than remind us that we probably need Bellatrix firmly in our corner," Dumbledore said quietly.

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix stowed her overnight bag on Ginny Weasley's desk. She could have packed more clothes for her stay at the Burrow, but had deliberately packed only enough clothes for one day. Thus far, her lack of clothes had proven to be an admirable excuse to depart from the Burrow during the day. Bellatrix had spent the last several days preparing for Pettigrew's arrival, researching horcruxes, and gathering supplies. At night, she had slept in Ginny Weasley's room, her own wand and a couple of spare Wandel wands nearby. In effect, the Burrow was turning out to be a very nice bed and breakfast.

After unzipping the bag, Bellatrix removed a briefcase-shaped container from the bag's bottomless depths. Case in hand, Bellatrix exited Ginny's room and made her way down the stairs where she joined Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had just finished cleaning up dinner.

"You do realize that you are always invited to join us for dinner, don't you?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Of course," Bellatrix said as congenially as possible, "it is just that I have so many errands that I often just eat out as a matter of course."

"Well, there's plenty of dessert left," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Bellatrix a small plate with a slice of pie.

"Thank you," Bellatrix said, accepting the plate. "I am just on my way to work on your wards a little bit." Balancing the plate and case in one hand so as to keep her wand arm free, Bellatrix wandered outside, leaving Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen.

Bellatrix made her way across the yard to Mr. Weasley's storage shed. The Weasley patriarch's obsession with all things Muggle struck Bellatrix as rather odd, but she liked Mr. Weasley quite a bit. He would enjoy the pie more than her, and he would be able to comment on Bellatrix's proposed changes to the wards.

"I brought you some extra pie," Bellatrix announced as she entered the shed and looked around. She could not see Mr. Weasley anywhere. "Mr. Weasley?"

"Right here," Mr. Weasley called from across the garage and toward the floor. His feet were sticking out from under an old Muggle car.

Bellatrix set the pie down on a workbench and set down her case as Mr. Weasley scooted out from beneath the car.

"You really should try Molly's cooking one of these days," Arthur said, eyeing the pie.

"I have already had plenty of dessert for today," Bellatrix said, studying the car on which Mr. Weasley had been working. She had noticed it in the shed before, but it had not occurred to her that Mr. Weasley might be doing more than admiring it in a general sort of way. "What are you doing with the car?"

Mr. Weasley picked up the pie and looked around furtively before answering her question. "I'm actually making some improvements."

"What kind of improvements?" Bellatrix inquired.

"Expanding space on the inside and in the trunk," Mr. Weasley said, setting down the pie plate and stepping over to the car. He opened the trunk and waved his hand around in it. "Back in the day when we had as many as five children attending Hogwarts, we were able to get all their trunks and the whole family into the car for the ride to King's Cross."

"Impressive," Bellatrix said, eyeing the car enviously as Mr. Weasley continued to talk about the various modifications he had made to the Muggle automobile.

"Of course, I don't drive it around all that much," Mr. Weasley concluded, picking the pie plate back up and preparing to take another bite of pie. "Then, of course, there is the fact that excessive use of it could raise trouble with the Ministry, especially if Muggles were to notice."

"I am quite sure your modifications help prevent detection," Bellatrix observed. "What is it that you do in the Ministry, by the way?"

"I'm in the Muggle Liaison Office," Mr. Weasley said. "We have to keep the Muggles informed about this war, especially if and when some of them turn up dead because of Death Eater activity. We also try to discourage witches and wizards from taking advantage of Muggles, though mostly we focus on helping the aurors protect the Muggles from Death Eaters."

"I see," Bellatrix said, her mind not really focusing on Mr. Weasley's position in the Ministry. However, she let him continue describing his job for a bit before turning the subject toward where her thoughts were running. "Mr. Weasley, if I were to purchase a Muggle car, would you be willing to make some basic modifications on it? I would pay you, of course."

"Well, I suppose I could," Mr. Weasley said slowly. "But you do have to realize that a lot of the modifications I've made on my car have just been experimental. I'm not sure it would be appropriate to magically modify a car for frequent use."

"It would be no different from me buying a car and using it without modifications," Bellatrix pressed. "And, I am only asking for some very basic modifications—enlarged interiors, maybe a little bit of reinforcement in the event of an accident, that sort of thing. Very subtle."

Mr. Weasley furrowed his brow as he considered Bellatrix's request. "What kind of car are we talking about?"

"I'm not sure yet," Bellatrix said. "I can pay by the hour or just a flat fee."

"I'm not sure that pay would be appropriate," Mr. Weasley said. "After all, you have taken the time to help increase our defenses. It would be the least I could do to repay you."

"Nonsense," Bellatrix said, "being willing to modify the car and accept the money is more than enough of a favor to repay my efforts to help protect your house."

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "All right, if you get around to buying a car, I'll see what I can do."

"Perfect," Bellatrix said. She picked up the case she had brought out from the house with her. "I was hoping that I could take down some of your wards and replace them with some others I have developed."

"Can't you just put them up in addition to what we already have?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"There's a slight chance that the new wards and the wards I want to take down would interfere with each other," Bellatrix explained. "Furthermore, the Death Eaters already probed your defenses. If they arrive and find a lot more wards than originally were present, they might retreat."

Mr. Weasley tilted his head. "I thought the purpose was to prevent an attack. If extra wards would scare them away, why disguise that there are new wards?"

"My wards have zing to them," Bellatrix declared. "Merely scaring the Death Eaters with an increased quantity of wards would only stave them off for a night or week. Letting them come in, get stung badly, and scared to death by the ghost of Ashworth will keep them away for a lot longer."

"If you say so," Mr. Weasley said, reluctantly assenting to Bellatrix's plan. "I'm not sure you'll be able to take down those wards, however. My son Bill is quite a hand at that kind of thing, and I had him put them up."

"They are very good wards," Bellatrix admitted as she began to exit Mr. Weasley's shed, "but I do not anticipate any difficulty in implementing my new ward scheme."

~!~!~!~!~!

After the wards in Village #6 were not only tripped during the night, but tripped in such a way that Harry was again not woken immediately, Harry began to suspect that he, the Malfoys, or both were being followed and observed by somebody. Harry was very careful to observe his trail and the general area for followers as he followed the Malfoys on their journey to Village #7. Unfortunately, he was unable to detect anything, and he and the Malfoys arrived in Village #7 at about the same time without any sort of incident.

Village #7 was a rather dismal sort of place. Out of all the Albanian villages he had seen thus far, Village #7 proved to be Harry's least favorite. Harry stealthily made his way around the village while the Malfoys headed for the local tavern to inquire after some rooms to rent for a night or two.

The village was small enough that every resident knew every other resident. This made Harry an undoubted stranger in their midst. The village's location deep in the Albanian forest also made it so that few if any of the villagers spoke English. The language barrier frustrated Harry quite a bit, though the hostile atmosphere led him to believe that even if there was no language barrier, the villagers would not want to speak to him.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Harry made his way to the tavern to inquire after a room for himself. The barkeep did not speak a word of English and did not seem pleased to see Harry—or rather, the aged wizard's countenance that was Harry's disguise. However, Harry's gold spoke for him and the barkeep led Harry to an extremely small room. Harry tried to act grateful.

Deciding that he would rather not have his clothes make contact with any the surfaces in the grungy room, Harry skipped unpacking and made his way down to the back of the inn. There, Harry began laying out his usual array of detection wards, also adding a few extra twists to ensure that he was alerted if they were tripped.

Harry walked into the inn and headed for the front to see if he could purchase some dinner. There, he found the Malfoys conversing with the barkeep in Albanian. Wishing that he could speak Albanian, Harry took a seat and hoped that whoever functioned as the server in the place would take pity on him and offer to bring out some food.

It turned out that Harry was doomed to spend quite a bit of time waiting. Eventually, the Malfoys stopped speaking with the barkeep, apparently having been disappointed in their queries. They departed from the main room of the inn, presumably to go rest in their room. Even then, the barkeep continued to ignore Harry who was not shy about glancing at his timepiece often.

After a while, the dinner arrived. It was marked by the arrival of a few of the tavern's regulars and the Malfoys. Harry supposed that those who spoke Albanian had been informed as to what time dinner was served. He was beginning to feel somewhat resentful until the barkeep made a point of serving him first. Somewhat mollified, Harry eyed the plate of food and began to eat.

Harry was just about to pick up his fork to try an unfamiliar dish when silence fell over the room. Harry looked up to see that Peter Pettigrew was standing near the doorway of the tavern, his wand drawn and pointed at the Malfoys. Harry was surprised, but he mostly felt like an idiot. He should have been able to detect that Peter was close well before Peter could come into sight like this.

"My fellow servants," Peter wheezed, his face painted with fear. He backed away from Lucius and Draco as if they already had their wands drawn and were ready to kill him. The locals looked from the Malfoys to Pettigrew, confusion painted on their faces.

"Surrender, Pettigrew," Lucius said coolly. "You know the consequences will be worse if you don't."

"Please," Pettigrew cried, losing his composure. "Please don't kill me."

"We're here to capture you," Lucius barked. "Now put down your wand. We won't kill you."

"You don't understand," Peter said, literally beginning to break down into tears as the local Albanians, Harry, and the Malfoys watched in consternation. "Please, I swear I'll be good. Please don't kill me."

"No, you moron!" Lucius yelled as Draco alternated his gaze between his father and Pettigrew. "We aren't going to kill you! Now put down your wand and we'll talk about the situation."

Pettigrew shook his head and backed away from the Malfoys. Harry watched in confusion, his thoughts racing as he tried to understand what was going on. The conversation didn't make any sense. Why was Pettigrew talking and hysterically acting as if the Malfoys wanted to kill him when they had made it abundantly clear that they wanted to capture him? Surely, Pettigrew knew that Voldemort would want him alive.

Lucius stood up from his chair, his wand drawn. He walked slowly toward Pettigrew. "Just put your wand down and we can be on our way. You will be alive," he said in an even tone.

"No, no!" Pettigrew screamed.

Suddenly, it clicked in Harry's mind. It was a show—just like the show put on by the Peter of Harry's dimension as he killed several Muggles and disappeared, leaving Sirius Black to take the rap for betraying the Potters and murdering others. Clearly, Peter had noticed the Malfoys making inquiries in the Albanian villages. He had waited until they arrived in a village where none of the witnesses spoke English. Perhaps that had even been his purpose in fleeing to Albania. He would cast some spell that killed the Malfoys. The non-English speaking witnesses would assure later Death Eaters that Peter Pettigrew was dead and that he had been killed by the Malfoys. The Malfoys who would die would not be able to say otherwise.

Lucius was getting closer to Pettigrew. In a couple of seconds, he would be able to grab the wand away from his fellow Death Eater. Remembering that Draco was part of his wife's bargain with Narcissa Malfoy, Harry drew his phoenix feather wand and cast a summoning charm on Draco. Draco was yanked across the room just as Harry erected a shield between himself and the place where Lucius was approaching Pettigrew. Almost simultaneously, a blast exploded across the room, presumably from Pettigrew's wand.

Not even bothering to look at the aftermath, Harry shot a stunner at Draco and then raced to the street, crossing ground where there had once been a tavern wall. Unless he missed his guess, Peter would be in rat form and scurrying for the nearest hiding place—probably the forest. Coughing from the smoke that was now wafting through the air, Harry croaked out a spell, repeating it multiple times as if it were a tongue twister or limerick. "Serpensortia!"

Snakes began appearing from the end of Harry's wand. "Bring me the rat!" he hissed in Parseltongue as he began running toward the forest. "Bring me the rat!" Perhaps because Harry had conjured them or perhaps because parselmouths had inherent authority over snakes, the snakes obeyed Harry, racing forward, using their sense of smell to find Pettigrew's trail.

"Thisss way," hissed one of the snakes as it slithered rapidly in a diagonal slant toward the forest.

Several of the snakes also caught whatever scent the first snake had found and also began slithering toward the forest. Harry started running after them, and for a moment, he thought he could see Pettigrew in his rat form scurrying toward cover in the forest. However, Harry simply was not able to run fast enough.

Realizing that his tactics needed to change, Harry stopped, grabbed his shrunken trunk from his robes, enlarged it, and threw it open. Inside, he found a Nimbus 2001 that Bellatrix had acquired on one of her supply shopping trips. Initially, Harry had been annoyed that she had taken upon herself to select a broom for him—he would have rather had a Firebolt.

Now extremely grateful for Bellatrix's initiative, Harry mounted the broom and zoomed into the forest, hot on the trail of his snakes and Pettigrew. The snakes were hissing loudly enough that Harry was able to catch up with them, hindered only slightly by the necessity to weave in and out of the trees as he zoomed through the forest. Eventually, he was flying directly over Pettigrew who was desperately scampering across the forested terrain in an attempt to escape the snakes.

Briefly, Harry considered trying to stun him, but realized that a rat made a rather small target. Choosing to employ another strategy, Harry zoomed forward to ground that Pettigrew had not yet covered and began conjuring more snakes. "Bring me the rat!" he hissed loudly.

Now, with Harry's snakes surrounding Pettigrew. Harry swung around, arced through the forest and made his descent to the forest floor just as one of the newly conjured snakes lunged and grabbed Pettigrew in his jaws. "Bring him to me," Harry hissed.

The snake slithered over to Harry, and Harry accepted the rat. The markings were familiar. For sure, it was the rat that had once been Ron's pet. Before Pettigrew could transform, Harry stunned him and slipped him into his pocket. Not having the heart to destroy the newly created snakes, Harry let them be as he mounted his broom and flew back to the village where he collected his trunk and stowed the broom. From the trunk, he retrieved a bottle in which he placed Pettigrew. Anticipating that he may catch Pettigrew in his rat form, Harry had prepared the bottle with holes in the lid and an unbreakable charm on the glass. Finished with that business, Harry tossed the bottle into the trunk, shrunk the trunk, and pocketed it before making his way back to the tavern.

Confused villagers milled just outside what remained of the tavern's front. Harry slipped into the heavily damaged building to discover the barkeep and someone who must have been the local constable eyeing Lucius's blasted, dead body. Harry winced, feeling slightly sorry for the son of his old friend, though keeping that sorrow in check by reminding himself of the horrors Lucius must have committed, helping to murder his father not being the least of them.

Draco had been shifted aside where he could lay unconscious on the floor out of the way while someone who seemed like a doctor or mediwizard examined some of the people who had been injured, but thankfully, not killed by the blast. Furtively looking around, Harry discerned that nobody was watching him or Draco's unconscious form.

Harry smiled as he waved his wand and transfigured Draco into a ferret. He picked up the unconscious ferret and walked outside and to a secluded place where he enlarged and opened up his trunk to get another bottle.

33. Bellatrix Lets Out Her Inner Slytherin

A/N:As always, thank you for your reviews.

Chapter 32: Bellatrix Lets Out Her Inner Slytherin

Lord Silvere

"I hate this class," Leo told Rose, putting all the emphasis he could into a whisper, as he gazed into a professional grade, academically priced crystal ball.

"It'll be the easiest NEWT we ever got," Rose told him reassuringly as she waved her wand in a circle underneath their classroom table, using the wand to cast a spell on the crystal ball so that its insides would be good and cloudy by the time she got around to making a prediction for Professor Trelawney's amusement.

"I don't have a problem with the subject or the easy NEWT," Leo replied quietly as he eyed Ron and Sidra who were seated across the room. "But, couldn't we have taken this class with all the other students our age?"

Rose shrugged. "I thought you really liked the idea of skipping a year worth of Divination and still getting the NEWT for it."

"We should have skipped this year," Leo groused. "Ron and Sidra would have graduated. Then, you could have your little 'vision' about how we needed to take the final NEWT level of divination immediately."

"Trust me, it is better this way," Rose said, casting a calculated smirk toward Ron and Sidra who had been in the process of glaring at Rose and Leo. "If we had waited a year, selling the vision to Trelawney would have been a little bit more difficult. Even she would have been able to see our true motivations."

"Ginny refused to buy into this scheme. Maybe I should have followed suit," Leo grumbled, rubbing the crystal ball and pretending to peer into its depths.

"Yeah, well, Ginny is a wet blanket sometimes, isn't she?" Rose retorted as she sat up and grabbed the crystal ball. "I think you're done with the crystal ball. Let me have a vision and maybe I can convince Trelawney that it is imperative for us to get out of here—immediately."

By now, the fog in the crystal ball was swirling enough that even some of the students at neighboring tables had noticed and were eyeing Rose and Leo out of the corners of their eyes. Rose straightened her back and stuck her arms out horizontally over the crystal ball, having pocketed her wand. Just before she could loudly announce that she was having a vision, Lavender Brown started screeching.

"I've got something, I've got something!" Lavender exclaimed, clapping her hands and bringing her face right up to the crystal ball that was resting on her table.

Rose dropped her arms, a disgusted expression on her face. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

The whole class was gathering around Lavender's table to see what she was seeing—or at least hear about it. Reluctantly, Rose and Leo joined the throng. From what Leo could see, the fog in Lavender's ball might be genuine. Trelawney seemed to think so as well, for she had taken a seat at Lavender's table and was excitedly gripping the crystal ball as Lavender looked into its depths.

"This is a genuine manifestation!" Trelawney declared, doing her best to sound very experienced in these matters, though it was pretty clear that she was just as excited and curious as her students.

"Nonsense," Rose said a little bit too loudly.

Everyone in the class paused and looked at Rose.

"Shut up," Sidra snarled at Rose. "For once, refrain from trying to be the center of attention."

Rose glared at Sidra, but instead of retorting, she pushed through the crowd and grabbed the crystal ball, wrenching it out of Lavender and Professor Trelawney's hands. "Let's see what is in this seemingly authentic vision," Rose said sarcastically. She held the ball close to her face and gazed into it. Leo grinned nervously as he watched Rose and anticipated her next caustic comment. However, it did not come.

After several moments, Rose broke her concentration on the crystal ball. "Fascinating," she murmured.

"What? What did you see?" Trelawney asked excitedly, her belief that Rose was a true seer overriding any sense of being offended. Lavender looked on sullenly.

"Uh, in the storm clouds of fate, I saw us going to lunch immediately," Rose said lamely. Abruptly, she then threw the crystal ball down onto the floor where it shattered, causing the fog within to dissipate instantly as it escaped its glass prison.

"Let's go," she said to Leo quietly. "We have things to do."

Leo grabbed his and Rose's book bags and followed her out of the classroom while Sidra loudly consoled Lavender, telling the sullen would-be seer that Rose Potter was nothing more than a spoiled, selfish drama queen who would one day get her comeuppance.

"What did you see?" Leo asked as he and Rose descended the ladder that was the entrance and exit to the divination classroom.

"Pettigrew," Rose said.

"What about Pettigrew?" Leo asked as he followed Rose through the castle.

"Voldemort didn't send him to Hogwarts to open the Chamber of Secrets," Rose told Leo. "He sent Pettigrew here to find and retrieve one of the objects for which Bellatrix now searches."

"Did you see the actual object?" Leo asked.

"Sort of," Rose said. "It was in a very unique room in the castle. It should not take us more than a few hours to find it.

~!~!~!~!~!

Smoothing back his hair, the salesperson cleared his throat as he appreciatively eyed Bellatrix's curves from the side while she examined the newest and most expensive 7-Series BMW the dealership had on the lot. "May I take you on a test drive, ma'am?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Bellatrix declared, breaking her gaze away from the black beauty that would probably be her car before the end of the day. She opened the passenger door, dropped in the seat, and pulled the door shut.

The salesperson stared in consternation, finally walking over to the driver's side, opening the door, and peering into the automobile. "Err, ma'am, it is customary for the prospective buyer to perform the test drive."

"I am right here," Bellatrix said, looking at him with wide, violet eyes.

"Well, I meant that you are supposed to drive the car yourself, you know, to see if you like it or not," the salesperson said, though his fingers were now fidgeting with keys as if he was perfectly prepared to drive the car instead of hand them over to the customer.

"No, no," Bellatrix said. "You are supposed to show me how it works. I will watch. That way, I will know how to drive it home."

"Okay . . . ," said the salesperson, taking the driver seat and pulling the door shut as he slipped the key into the ignition. "You do know how to drive car don't you, ma'am?"

"Oh, of course," Bellatrix said, waving her hand dismissively as she intently watched the salesperson twist the key in the ignition and shift the automatic transmission into drive.

The salesperson pulled the car out of the lot, and they were soon driving through a residential neighborhood. "As you can see ma'am, this car has superb handling and braking," the salesperson said. "Even in stop and go traffic, everything is quite smooth."

"And what does this button do?" Bellatrix said, pointing to the console.

"That's the rear defogger," the salesperson informed her.

Bellatrix pushed the button and looked back. "Nothing is happening."

"There has to be fog or frost on the rear window, first," the salesperson explained.

"Is this feature optional? I do not think I need it," Bellatrix said.

"You'll need it in the winter," the salesperson protested, beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that this girl knew nothing about automobiles.

"Actually, I am planning to get an acquaintance of mine to do some alterations so that I will not require such things. Why would I need something to get the frost off if I do not let the frost on in the first place?"

"A mechanic is going to do something to prevent frost from getting on your windows?" the salesperson asked, confused.

"Yes, I think so," Bellatrix said. "If he cannot do it, I reckon that it will not be much trouble for me to do it myself."

"In any event, this feature comes with every car we sell," the salesperson said, deciding to go ahead and overlook her strange idea about frost prevention.

"Oh, well I guess I can take it anyway," Bellatrix said. "I mean, it would look strange to ah . . . normal people if I did not have a rear defogger in my car, right?"

"Yes, very strange," the salesperson said.

They drove in silence for several minutes as Bellatrix watched the salesperson and studied the car's controls. The salesperson eyed Bellatrix from the corner of his eye. She almost looked normal. The nearly knee-high black boots were not unheard of on women, though they looked a lot more . . . leathery than any boots he had ever seen. The knee-length black skirt was also normal, but her black jacket was embroidered with very distinctive and sparkling emerald and silver materials. Probably some sort of fashionista, he concluded.

"Stop the car," Bellatrix commanded.

"Huh?" the salesperson asked, slowing the car down.

"I think I know how to drive now. Stop the car, and I'll take us the rest of the way."

The salesperson brought the car to a complete stop in the middle of the street, and he and Bellatrix switched seats. Bellatrix got behind the wheel, shifted the car into gear, and sped off.

"You need to slow down," the salesperson warned Bellatrix. "There is a speed limit—especially on these residential streets where children play."

"I suppose you are right," Bellatrix said as she slammed on the brakes in order to navigate a sharp corner and merge onto a main drag. "I do not think we shall run into many people here."

"Still too fast," the salesperson squeaked as Bellatrix slammed down the gas pedal and got back up to speed.

"We are not moving all that fast," Bellatrix protested as the needle pushed 100 km/h.

"For this street we are," the salesperson declared as Bellatrix eased on the brakes as they approached a bend in the road. His relief ended as Bellatrix accelerated back to over 100 immediately after passing the curve.

"This driving thing is not as bad as I imagined," Bellatrix told the salesperson.

Abruptly, a the two-tone sound of a police siren washed over them just as flashing blue lights drew Bellatrix's attention to the rearview mirror.

"What does he want?" Bellatrix asked.

"You just got pulled over for speeding," the salesperson sighed resignedly. "Park the car on the side of the road so he can talk to you."

Bellatrix pulled over and stopped the car. "You Muggles and your stupid speed laws," she said bitterly as she opened the door, stepped out of the car, and drew her wand. "You wait here," she told the salesperson as she prepared to slam the BMW's door shut. "This will only take a moment, and then we shall be on our way."

~!~!~!~!~!

A frown on his face, Harry suspiciously surveyed his surroundings as he emerged from a stand of trees in the park near to Privet Drive. He had not believed his ears when Kreacher had told him that Bellatrix wanted to meet him at #2 Privet Drive, but how else would the elf had known of Privet Drive? Harry walked onto the street of his youth, watching as the local children trickled from their houses and made their way toward school.

Harry strolled over to #2 Privet Drive and, after eyeing the BMW parked in the driveway, walked up toward the front door. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal Bellatrix. "Welcome to our humble prison facility," Bellatrix proclaimed, a smug grin on her face. "Did you have trouble finding it?"

"Of course not," Harry muttered, wanting to ask Bellatrix what she had been thinking, but mostly glad to see her after spending a few weeks in Albania. She hugged him and he responded with a kiss.

They separated, closed the door, and found themselves standing in the hallway of a house remarkably like the house in which Harry had grown up. Though there seemed to be some furniture, overall, the house seemed quite sparse and barely lived in.

Seeing that Harry was examining the furnishings, Bellatrix spoke up reassuringly. "We still live in our flat," she told Harry. "This is just a place specially designed to hold Pettigrew and anyone else we capture, all while preventing them from knowing where we actually live."

"Probably a good idea," Harry admitted.

"Of course it is," Bellatrix declared. "You have Pettigrew?" At Harry's nod, she continued. "Let me show you where he will be living out the remainder of his days."

They went down to the basement, and Bellatrix showed Harry a room with ceramic tiles on the floor, walls, ceiling, and even the back of the door. "This will hold just about anybody indefinitely," Bellatrix told Harry, drawing her wand and blasting the walls with various spells. "As you can see, no amount of magic can break through the boundaries of the cell."

"What about blunt, physical force?" Harry asked.

"Watch this," Bellatrix said, leading Harry out of the room. From a pile of supplies that was lying on the bare floor, she withdrew a stick of dynamite. Lighting the fuse with her wand, she tossed the stick into the room and shut the door. After the big bang, she opened the room to reveal that while the explosion had made quite a mess, it had caused no damage whatsoever to the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room.

"Quite remarkable," Harry declared, withdrawing his trunk from the pocket of his robes. He drew his wand, and after placing the shrunk trunk on the floor, enlarged it, opened it, and retrieved a glass bottle in which a panicked rat sat frozen, eying Harry and Bellatrix.

"He never impressed me very much," Bellatrix told Harry, taking the jar from his hands. "Yet, here he is, an animagus."

"He had help," Harry reminded Bellatrix, not sure whether he had told her everything he knew about the Marauders.

"I suppose so," Bellatrix murmured, walking with the jar back into the basement prison cell.

"Shouldn't we clean this up a bit, first?" Harry asked, gesturing to the walls of the cell that the stick of dynamite had partially blackened.

"This is a dungeon, Harry," Bellatrix said as she cracked open the lid and stunned the rat. She opened it completely and unceremoniously dumped the rat onto the tile floor. "It would not do to have it sparkling clean."

Harry looked around and grimaced, almost feeling sorry for Pettigrew.

Bellatrix pointed her wand at the rat, casting the spell to force Pettigrew out of his animagus form. Harry had only a second to look at Pettigrew before Bellatrix had cast another spell to wake him up. Disoriented, Pettigrew sat up.

"Welcome to our dungeon," Bellatrix said primly.

"B-B-Bellatrix Black," Pettigrew stuttered, looking up at his captors. "And Professor Ashworth."

"The same," Harry said.

"But you're dead," Pettigrew responded. "Dead."

Harry and Bellatrix shrugged, not seeing anything to respond to in that comment.

"What do you want with me? I haven't done anything to you. Please, just let me go." Pettigrew begged. "You will never see me again. I swear."

"I wish it were that simple," Harry said, gazing upon Pettigrew with pity. "Even if we did not need you, I do not think I could in good conscience let you roam free."

"What is it you want then?" Pettigrew demanded.

"We will let you know soon," Bellatrix said, cutting off the conversation before Pettigrew could draw on Harry's emotions any further. She poked Harry. "Let's go."

They stepped out of the cell, and Bellatrix secured the door with both physical locks and complex locking spells. "Is Draco in your trunk as well?" she asked.

"He is," Harry declared, a little bit of a smirk suddenly developing on his face. He retrieved from his trunk the bottle in which a terrified ferret was imprisoned.

"Is Draco an animagus also?" Bellatrix asked, sounding confused as she accepted the bottle from Harry.

"No," Harry smirked.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes as she looked at Harry. "Human transfiguration is extremely dangerous."

Harry shrugged defensively. "I was careful. Besides, he would be no great loss to us."

"He happens to be my nephew," Bellatrix said.

"He's a Malfoy," Harry retorted.

"He is my key to getting leverage over my sister. Though with regard to him being a Malfoy, I suppose you are right," Bellatrix said. "But, I will make him a Black yet."

"That's tons better," Harry said with a small bit of sarcasm present in his voice.

"It is, Mr. Black." Bellatrix told Harry evenly. "I will show you where we will be keeping Draco. You can transfigure him back before you go home."

"Go home?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"Clearly, you are exhausted," Bellatrix said, leading the way up the stairs. "Unfortunately, you only have the rest of the day to sleep. You will have some errands to run this evening."

"Why can't you take care of them?" Harry asked as they reached the main floor and headed up the staircase to the second level.

"Draco and Pettigrew will be keeping me occupied for the next while," Bellatrix replied.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Draco gasped as he felt an enervate spell wash over him. He tensed his muscles as soon as he realized that he was no longer an animal nor in a glass jar. He looked up to find a black-haired beauty standing over the bed on which he was lying, peering down at him with wide and intense violet eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who do I look like?" the young woman asked, smirking vaguely.

"How should I know?" Draco shot back.

"A fair question," she admitted, smiling in a slightly predatory way. "I am your aunt."

"Aunt Andromeda?" Draco asked, eyeing her closely.

"Surely you can do better than that, dimwit." Bellatrix encouraged. "Andy does not look anything like me."

"Aunt Bellatrix?" Draco asked slowly, clearly in disbelief as he tried to remember whether he had ever seen a photograph or heard a physical description of his other aunt.

"Correct," Bellatrix said.

"But you're dead!" Draco exclaimed, pushing himself up and backing away from her until his back hit the bed's headboard. He looked around the room and was surprised to find that the bed was the only piece of furniture in a bare room.

"Dead?" Bellatrix asked. "Or missing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Did your mother tell you that I was dead or that I was missing?" Bellatrix clarified.

"She said you were dead," Draco said, taking stock of her features and determining that she met the physical description of his Aunt Bellatrix save only for her apparent youth.

"You are positive she said I was dead?"

"Yes, my mother always said you were dead." Draco reiterated.

"Now, did she say I was dead or killed?" Bellatrix inquired, now looking extremely curious.

"What does it matter?" Draco demanded.

Bellatrix paused for a moment, arching her eyebrow as she apparently took some time to compose the answer. "To you, it matters little. But for me, I happen to be curious. Now tell me, was I described as dead or killed?"

"She might have said you had been killed, but I cannot remember," Draco said.

"Please try to be more exact."

"She alternated between saying that you were dead or killed. I think she just assumed that you were killed." Draco said, trying to elaborate on his answer.

"Fascinating," Bellatrix declared. "Well, with that behind us, let me explain some basics to you. Your dear, sweet mother has made it worth my while to look after you for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"It means that she got sick of you being involved in the war. For you, the war is now over. Until it ends for everyone else, you shall be living in this house and restrained to remaining in the general vicinity of the neighborhood."

"You cannot keep me here," Draco declared.

"Oh, I can," Bellatrix reassured him. "If you are particularly daring, you will soon discover that whenever you travel a certain distance away from this house, you begin to feel sick. The further you travel, the sicker you become. At a certain point, you will no longer be able to maintain consciousness because the pain will be so bad."

"And if I floo or apparate away from here?" Draco asked.

"Instant death," Bellatrix replied. "If I were you, I would resist any and all attempts that anybody might make to take you away from here. As well-intentioned as they might be, you will die if you leave the boundaries I have set around this house for you."

"What if I accidentally go too far?" Draco inquired, now trying to understand the extent of his imprisonment.

"If you are walking, you will lose consciousness before you pass the point where death occurs. However, keep in mind that a well-meaning Muggle might take you to a hospital outside of the allowed radius." Bellatrix said, smiling and tilting her head a bit. "Then you would die en route to the hospital."

"My father will have your hide for this," Draco declared.

"You father is dead," Bellatrix informed him rather bluntly. "The wizard you and your father were hunting in Albania ambushed you. Luckily, the fellow I hired to find you was there and saved your life."

"Then my master will hunt you down," Draco declared boldly.

Bellatrix reached out and grabbed Draco's arm, twisting it so she could see the inside of his wrist. "It would appear that you have not quite yet been branded as the dark lord's own. Did not quite make it to the rank of Death Eater, did you?"

"I would have made it after coming back from Albania," Draco snarled. "You screwed that up for me."

"Pity," Bellatrix said, smiling thinly.

"So, basically, I am in Azkaban. Is that what this is?" Draco demanded, angry, but also a little bit scared, now.

"Not quite Azkaban," Bellatrix told him. "Your mother can visit you, and you will certainly not be confined to this room."

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do outside of this room? Frolic with the Muggles?"

Bellatrix let out a laugh that devolved into a giggle that made Draco very nervous. "The Muggles will be frolicking, I assure you," she said. "But, you will be otherwise occupied. Get out of bed," she directed, motioning with her head. "We have places to be."

Draco watched as his long lost aunt turned her back and made her way out of the room. "Also keep in mind," she called, "that if anything bad happens to me, there will not be anyone to deactivate the magic that keeps you imprisoned in this general area."

Still rather shaken, but curious enough to find out more, Draco climbed out of the bed and discovered that he was wearing Muggle clothes. Idly, he wondered if she had stripped him and dressed him. Finding a pair of shoes on the floor near his bed, he put them on and then stood to follow Bellatrix. He found her down the stairs and near what appeared to be the front door of the house in which they were located.

"Come along," Bellatrix said as she raised her wand and began casting glamour charms on herself.

Confused, Draco watched as she transformed herself into a middle-aged woman and lightened her hair. As disappointment rose in his mind, Draco realized that he had been rather attracted to her original looks. "So, ah, is this what you really look like?" he asked.

"No, this is my disguise," Bellatrix told him as she opened the front door and led him out.

They walked down to the end of the drive, over one house, and up to the door of #4 Privet Drive. Apprehensively, Draco watched as Bellatrix pasted a false smile on her face and rapped smartly on the door of #4.

After several minutes, a rather surly looking man answered the front door, though he quickly placed a genial smile on his face as soon as he saw who his visitor was. "Mrs. White, how are you?" he inquired.

"I am very well, indeed," Bellatrix told the man as Draco looked on in consternation. Bellatrix motioned toward Draco. "This is my nephew. Remember? The one that was just released from the juvenile center. Davey, this is Mr. Vernon Dursley."

Draco stared stupidly at Bellatrix and Mr. Dursley for a moment before realizing that his aunt had renamed him Davey.

"He has always been a little slow," Bellatrix told Mr. Dursley as the large and beefy man shared a sympathetic glance with her. "My husband and I have tried to help his parents, but there does not seem to be much hope for anybody."

"Very unfortunate," Mr. Dursley said to Bellatrix before looking Draco in the eye. "Davey," he said, "do you know how to operate a lawn mower?"

"No," Draco replied, feeling very confused.

"I am sure it will not take much time to teach him," Bellatrix assured Mr. Dursley. "If you would be so kind as to teach him the basics, I am sure he would be glad to mow your lawn free of charge for the next four weeks."

"Sounds like a bargain to me," Mr. Dursley said.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"I'm not sure this is worth skipping dinner for," Leo grumbled.

"The only options were the dead of the night and dinnertime," Rose told him. "Bellatrix chose dinnertime."

"Easy for her," Leo retorted good naturedly as he and Rose rushed to Gryffindor Tower. "She can have Kreacher serve her dinner any time she wants."

"I am not entirely convinced that Kreacher serving dinner makes anybody's life easier," Rose said as she and Leo entered the Gryffindor common room and walked toward the fire. "What time is it?"

"I think we only have a couple minutes," Leo told her.

"Great," Rose said. "Why don't you run up and check to make sure nobody is in the boys' dormitories, and I'll check the girls'.

After a few minutes, the pair concluded that they were alone in Gryffindor Tower. Satisfied, they set some small wards to alert them if anybody approached the common room and then sat down on the couch in front of the fire, waiting for Bellatrix to floo call them.

The appointed time came and went without Bellatrix appearing in the fireplace. "Where is she?" Rose wondered, frowning.

"She is otherwise occupied," came a voice from an armchair to their right.

Startled, the two teens leaped to their feet and stared at the armchair, surprised to see Harry Ashworth, or rather, Harry Black, smiling at them over steepled hands.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I couldn't resist the temptation."

"Merlin!" Leo exclaimed. "Are you actually here or are you using that spell?"

"The spell, of course," Harry said.

"But you don't appear ghost-like," Leo said.

"The spell is quite flexible," Harry said, raising his hand and causing it to become transparent for a moment.

"Maybe you could teach it to me sometime," Leo said enviously.

"Maybe I will," Harry said. "But for now, perhaps you could tell me what you've discovered."

"Of course," Leo said, glancing at Rose who was in the process of studying Harry intently. "Rose?"

Rose cleared her throat. "Professor Ashworth-Black—," she began.

"Please, just call me Harry," Harry directed, interrupting her as politely as he could.

"Very well, Harry," Rose conceded. "We believe that one of Voldemort's magical objects is inside of Hogwarts."

"Of course," Harry said slowly. "He always viewed Hogwarts as his home. It is only logical that he would hide one here. After all, the castle's defenses are formidable."

"Bellatrix didn't seem to think we would find one in the castle," Leo pointed out and impliedly asking for an explanation as to the differing opinions.

"Bellatrix does not know Mr. Riddle as well as I do," Harry said, brushing Leo's confusion aside. "Where is this magical object?"

"We are not entirely sure," Rose confessed.

Detecting a slightly annoyed expression on Harry's face, Leo piped in. "But we do know that it is hidden inside a room full of lots of junk."

"Junk?" Harry asked.

"Yes, junk," Rose said. "Furniture, books, sculptures, that sort of thing. There are acres and acres of piles and piles of this junk all inside of a room in Hogwarts."

"But we can't find the room," Leo cut in. "We've spent days searching for it. We're beginning to wonder if the room actually is in the castle, but we are very sure that an object belonging to Voldemort is in that room, wherever it is."

"How did you discover the location of this object without seeing the room in person?" Harry asked, sounding a little bit confused.

"That is something you do not need to know," Rose said coolly, apparently not willing to inform Harry about her seer abilities.

Harry leveled his gaze at her, focusing the green orbs that were his eyes on Rose's own eyes. "Very well," Harry said. "I thank you for your efforts. I would appreciate it if you would continue to gather any information you can regarding Mr. Riddle."

"Wait," Leo said, "we're not done yet, are we? Do you know where this room is?"

"I do know where the room is located," Harry admitted.

"Is it in Hogwarts?" Leo asked.

"Yes," Harry said, turning his head to watch the flames in the fireplace. It seemed he was prepared to reward reticence for reticence.

"Harry," Rose said, "it would appear that you fail to realize that we are your best option to retrieve this object. Obviously, you cannot enter Hogwarts, but we are already here. You should tell us where this room is."

Harry continued to look into flames. Eventually, he smiled. "I think you underestimate my abilities, Miss Potter. Besides, even if I could trust you to give me the object rather than handing it over to Professor Dumbledore, I fear that Mr. Riddle will have placed unique defenses around the magical object in question. In that room, his options are, I think, endless. Though, I will concede that there is a small chance that Mr. Riddle never realized the sheer power that the room seems to possess."

It took Rose a few moments to muster a reply. "Is not handing over the object to Professor Dumbledore the best option? If you truly are fighting Voldemort, you should be more willing to contribute to the cause."

Harry looked again at Rose, focusing his emerald eyes on her. "Miss Potter, I have contributed more to the cause than you can possibly know.

"Then what is a little bit more?" Rose said boldly.

"I was not implying that I do not wish to contribute more to the cause," Harry said evenly. "I was implying that at this moment, it is I who is best situated to decide what ought to be done to effectively combat V . . . Mr. Riddle. When I am ready, I shall personally access the room you have seen and retrieve Mr. Riddle's magical object. And then, at an appropriate moment, I will involve Professor Dumbledore in my plans."

"Right," Leo said, jumping in and trying to douse any further sparks between Harry and Rose. "In the meantime, we'll continue to research Voldemort and let you know if we find anything important."

"Excellent," Harry said, smiling at Leo. He then, without any further comment, faded away.

Rose and Leo stared at the empty chair for several moments.

"I really want to learn that spell," Leo said.

"I really want to learn more about Harry Ashworth-Black," Rose said quietly. "In case you did not notice, he just told us that he thinks he knows better than Dumbledore."

Leo grinned at Rose teasingly. "Or was he really saying that he knows better than you?"

"There is nothing he knows that I cannot know, and endless things I can know that he cannot," Rose said sulkily.

"If you could really see that far, you would be able to find the room in question," Leo pointed out gently. "And then, we must remember that knowledge is not necessarily wisdom."

"Are you saying that Harry Ashworth has more wisdom than I do?" Rose demanded, beginning to sound quite angry.

Leo held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I am merely saying that we should not be so quick to discount the wisdom behind Harry's decisions. If you haven't noticed, the Death Eaters have been running scared these past months. And don't forget that he and Bellatrix whisked your mother out from under Voldemort's nose almost effortlessly. What he does may very well end this war once and for all."

"I suppose you're right," Rose said, still sounding rather unhappy. "I guess I just wish that I could play a more pivotal role in all this as well."

"Let's satisfy ourselves with researching Voldemort," Leo encouraged. "If we're in Harry's good graces come summer holidays, we may get a chance to help terrorize Death Eaters."

"Yeah, and how are we going to do that while we're under the watchful eyes of our parents?" Rose asked.

"I think you underestimate his abilities," Leo said, a slightly mocking smile on his face.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry released the image projection spell and found himself back in his body, looking at the trees in the Forbidden Forest. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, signaling to Harry that he had little time if he was to make it to his next stop in time. Glancing around to ensure that he was alone, Harry withdrew a flask from his robes. He uncapped it, and, wrinkling his nose at the awful smell of Polyjuice, downed a few gulps.

The transformation was as unpleasant as he remembered, but the effect was perfect. Looking into a mirror that he had just conjured, Harry determined that he looked precisely like his wife, Bellatrix. Harry then grabbed the small satchel he had brought along and changed into the set of clothes Bellatrix had provided him. Grimacing as he pulled on a pair of her boots and tried to balance on the heels, Harry wondered if she had designed this all to torment him.

Once he was dressed, he used one of his Wandel wands to place an illusion spell on his phoenix feather wand so that it would resemble Bellatrix's own wand. Harry then determined that he was officially ready to impersonate Bellatrix. Hoping that Bellatrix had correctly modified the wards around the Burrow, Harry disapparated.

He appeared just down the drive from the Burrow's main entrance. Still trying to master the use of Bellatrix's boots, Harry picked his way up the drive as he mentally attempted to condition himself to act like Bellatrix. Snide remarks, Harry told himself silently, snide remarks. He reached the front door of the Burrow and let himself in. At least one person in the room is a dimwit.

"Bellatrix!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We were so worried when you didn't arrive after your normal time."

Harry's instinct was to apologize, but he well knew that Bellatrix would not be likely to do so, at least, not to Mrs. Weasley. He tried to think of a snide remark, but had to settle for something in between. "I guess you have a new normal time," Harry said glibly, turning toward the stairs. He hoped that he would be able to shut himself up in Ginny's room and depart before breakfast without any further interaction with the Weasley family. It would not do to make a mistake and be identified.

"Normally, we wouldn't take note of the time of your arrival," Mrs. Weasley admitted hurriedly, seemingly nervous that she might have offended Bellatrix. "It's just that the Order is holding a meeting in a few minutes, and Professor Dumbledore hoped that you might accept an invitation to attend."

Harry froze near the staircase as he considered whether he wanted to get Bellatrix inducted into the Order. She would not like it, but it would be a good way to get information. Once again, Harry made a compromise. "I wouldn't mind coming tonight," he said slowly, "but I don't want to make you feel like I will come all the time."

"That's fine," Mrs. Weasley said, rushing to reassure the person she thought was Bellatrix. "As soon as Arthur gets down here, we can leave, unless you need a couple of minutes."

"No, no, I can leave when you're ready," Harry said.

~!~!~!~!~!

Suspiciously, Lily eyed Bellatrix as the younger woman, who still claimed to be older than Lily, took a swig from a flask. Bellatrix had surprised everyone by assenting to attend the Order meeting and had been astoundingly cooperative since arriving . . . even after Professor Dumbledore had carved time out of the meeting to solicit a monetary donation from Bellatrix's coffers to help aid the Order's efforts to rehabilitate and care for the Death Eater's victims.

Putting away her flask, Bellatrix answered a query posed by Professor Dumbledore. "I think fifteen thousand galleons should be more than sufficient for the time being. I am willing to be liberal with my money. But, I also want to be prudent."

"I assure you, Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said, "we are beyond grateful for the generosity you are already offering us. Let me point out, though, that we do have immediate needs and outstanding debts. It is not as if we would stockpile your money. We have actual victims in need and many people who would be willing to work with these victims if we could but cover costs they have already incurred. Couldn't you find it in your heart to give us a bit more up front?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "How about twenty-five thousand galleons? If you can provide me a report detailing how it was spent and another report detailing further needs, I could then offer an additional amount later."

"We are greatly indebted to you," Professor Dumbledore said, apparently accepting twenty-five thousand galleons as Bellatrix's best offer.

"I'll send you a bank draft by owl later," Bellatrix said, putting away her flask. "I don't happen to have my purse with me tonight."

"How could you forget to bring your purse? Sirius chuckled. "I didn't know there was a witch in this world who would leave home without money."

Despite harboring the same question herself, Lily shot Sirius a glare and was about to reprimand him, but was cut off when Moody decided to voice his own paranoid suspicions.

"I did not realize there was so much liquidity in the Black holdings," Moody commented.

"The goblins have intimated to me that there is plenty of liquidity in the Black holdings," Bellatrix countered. "Howbeit, you should probably know that this money is not strictly coming from the Black family."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes peering curiously at Bellatrix over the rims of his spectacles.

"In his final moments, Romulus Malfoy turned over the Malfoy family's liquid holdings to my husband," Bellatrix informed the Order. "For some reason, he took offense when he saw that his son was among the Death Eaters who had just assassinated my father and were about to kill him as well. Remember that not all purebloods are evil. It was Romulus Malfoy, my uncle, and my father who took the first steps against the dark lord. To this day, their resources are being used to counter the Death Eaters."

"We will of course remember that," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"I wonder what Lucius would say if he found out that every person he has killed will result in increased expenditures from the Malfoy fortune," James snickered.

"We shall probably never know," Professor Dumbledore declared. "Mr. Malfoy happens to be our next topic of conversation. I think it also relates to Bellatrix."

"Oh?" Harry, doing his level best to impersonate Bellatrix, asked as the gathered Order members stared at him.

"The details are still extremely vague at best," Dumbledore said, "but it sounds like Lucius Malfoy may have been killed. There has been no news or word of his son, Draco. My sources tell me that you probably are involved."

For Harry, calculating the appropriate Bellatrix-like reaction was simple. He quirked Bellatrix's lips and put on a smirk. "What if I am?"

"It means that we will have things to discuss privately," Dumbledore said. "But perhaps for the sake of the Order, you could tell me how you were able to arrange the events in Albania and confirm the status of Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

"Lucius is dead and Draco is none of your business." Harry declared. "How did I manage it? Simple. You can buy nearly anything with gold."

"It was my understanding that mercenaries have not been reliable of late, particularly when they are engaged to perform work against the Death Eaters," Frank Longbottom said slowly as he peeled apart Harry's attempt to make a vague explanation. "It would seem to me that once you sent your hired wands to Albania, you would never hear from them again."

Harry stared back at Frank Longbottom as he raced to formulate a Bellatrix-like response. Finally, it came to him, and Harry pasted a smirk on Bellatrix's face. "I paid cash-on-delivery."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Apparently times were not so desperate for the Order so as to preclude them from having refreshments at meetings. Harry had only enough time to grab a small slice of one of Mrs. Weasley's cakes before Professor Dumbledore had taken Harry aside for a heart-to-heart conversation with Bellatrix. The house the Order used as a meeting place had a small room that had once probably served as somebody's study.

Dumbledore fetched a chair from one side of the room and set it down for Harry, who was still impersonating Bellatrix. Harry took another swig from his Polyjuice flask as Dumbledore brought another chair over for his own use.

"Am I to understand that Peter Pettigrew is in your custody?" Dumbledore inquired as soon as they were both seated.

"That is correct," Harry said, using a fork to cut off a small piece of cake. He supposed that Bellatrix might have foregone the cake entirely, but at any rate, if she had taken a slice of cake, she would have definitely been dainty about eating it.

"And what of Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Also enjoying my hospitality," Harry said, taking a small bite of cake.

"I am not convinced that you taking it upon yourself to hold prisoners is the best thing for all involved," Dumbledore said.

"And how would we all benefit from you assuming the safekeeping of Mr. Pettigrew?"

"He no doubt has information about the Death Eaters and Voldemort," Dumbledore said.

"More information than Snape?" Harry said, taking the liberty to roll Bellatrix's eyes. He was pretty sure she would have done it.

"Any information is useful," Dumbledore countered.

"But I think not more valuable than what I will be able to do with Pettigrew and his connection to the only horcrux I have actually captured," Harry said.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, giving up. "What about Mr. Malfoy?"

"That is between me and my sister," Harry said, internally cringing at having to refer to Draco's mom as his sister, though he supposed she was his sister-in-law.

"There are more things I would like to talk about," Dumbledore said, "but I think you need to get back to the Burrow with the Weasleys for tonight. We are still nervous about what those ward probes they sensed might mean about the future. Perhaps we could more formally meet in the near future?"

"Of course," Harry said, trying to fit in a couple of more dainty bites of cake before the conversation ended and he returned to the kitchen to depart in the company of the Weasleys. "I will let you know an appropriate time to meet when I send you the bank draft for twenty-five thousand galleons."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"How many more stops do we have?" Draco snarled as he and Bellatrix cruised down a street near Privet Drive in her BMW.

"Just one more of the kind that you dislike," Bellatrix said in a faux sweet voice. "Then we've got one that you will positively loathe."

"Why can't you be satisfied to chain me up in a room like a normal jailor would?" Draco grumbled.

"It may be the stubbornness in me, but I just do not see why I should pay to feed you," Bellatrix said as she slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt in front of a house that depressingly looked like every other house in the entire neighborhood. "If you want to eat, you have to earn the money to buy food from that shop I showed you earlier."

Draco glared at her.

"Now," Bellatrix said. "I am going to let you do this one alone. Go up to the front door, knock on it, ask to see the lady of the house, and negotiate for how often you will work on the lawn and how much you will get paid."

"Do I have to offer to edge the lawn and get the weeds in the flower garden like that Dursley monster demands?" Draco asked sulkily.

"Of course not," Bellatrix said, "but that would be passing up an opportunity to increase your income, or in other words, you would be choosing to have less and worse food to eat. Now get going before I hex you."

Draco exited the car, slammed the door shut, and walked up to the front door. While he talked to the homeowner about her interest in having him work on her lawn, Bellatrix fiddled with the air conditioning, still not having been able to figure out how it worked. Her learning experience ended when Draco returned.

"I'm hired," Draco grumbled as he climbed back into the nice car.

"Wonderful," Bellatrix said. "That makes eight houses for which you do lawn care. That should cover your food bill. Luckily for you, I pay the utilities and even bought you a mower and lots of yard tools."

"That's actually only seven houses," Draco grumbled. "You signed me up to do that Muggle moron's lawn for free."

"But think of all the referrals and training he gave you," Bellatrix said, shifting the car into gear and jerkily pulling away from the curb. "Besides, you can start charging him after the four weeks are up."

"What if this isn't enough money to get me food?" Draco demanded. "And what about clothes? I can't wear these things every day."

"If your clothes wear out, you shall have to take the initiative to find more clients," Bellatrix said, yawning tiredly as they came to an intersection at which she turned.

"Where are we going now?"

"I actually bought another one of these houses," Bellatrix told Draco as they turned down another street in the Surrey neighborhood. "It's what the Muggle real estate people call a fixer-upper. The idea is that you fix it up, and I'll sell it for much more than I bought it, making a handsome profit, particularly because the labor was so cheap."

"Oh, so now we're onto slave labor?" Draco demanded. "You're not even trying to pretend that it is for my own good or upkeep?"

"I will share the profit with you," Bellatrix said. "Thus, you will be motivated to make the best out of this opportunity. The more work you put into this house in between lawn mowing, the more money you will get when I sell the house. Simple enough?"

"I guess," Draco sulked as they stopped in front of a house. Forlornly, he looked out the car window at the house. Even from the outside, it appeared to be in poor repair.

"Here is the key," Bellatrix proclaimed, dropping a key ring with a single key on Draco's lap. "Inside, you will find a list of projects that must be completed before I can sell it. I have even stockpiled some of the supplies you will need. Shall I drop you off and let you get started now, or shall I take you home for the night?"

Draco looked at the house and then eyed the storm clouds gathering to the west. "I suppose I'll have to walk home later if you drop me off now."

"Probably," Bellatrix said in a matter of fact tone.

"Maybe tomorrow then," Draco said.

"So be it," Bellatrix said, letting off the car's brake and zooming down the road back toward Privet Drive. They arrived quite quickly, and Bellatrix pulled into the driveway.

Without speaking any further to each other, Bellatrix and Draco exited the car and made their way inside. There, Draco stomped up the stairs and to his room. Bellatrix watched this, and as soon as she heard his door close, she drew her wand and unlocked the spells that secured and hid the basement door.

Bellatrix made her way down the stairs. In the part of the basement that was not devoted to being Peter Pettigrew's holding cell, she had set up a small lab in which she had tried to work on the diary now that Pettigrew was around and presumably would be able to provide the key for Bellatrix to access the diary's inner workings. Unfortunately, the mysteries of the diary were still as inaccessible as ever before.

Eyeing the table on which the diary sat, Bellatrix came to a decision. Grimly, she checked her timepiece and ascertained that Harry would already be at the Weasleys and would not likely be stopping by Privet Drive for some time.

Grabbing the diary, Bellatrix took it over to Peter's cell where she unlocked the door and let herself in. Fearfully, Peter Pettigrew sat huddled in a corner. Bellatrix's interactions with him in the past twelve hours had been few, but they had been enough for him to know that he should be afraid.

Bellatrix tossed the journal onto the floor near her feet. "Mr. Pettigrew," she said, "it would seem that we have come to a crossroads. I had hoped that capturing you would prove to unlock the mysteries and powers of this diary."

"W-why me?" Pettigrew said, sounding as if he was weeping.

"You wrote in it, did you not?" Bellatrix asked. "You are familiar with its power, are you not?"

"Yes," Pettigrew said, "but I didn't mean to. I swear. I was just using it as a place to take notes."

Bellatrix refrained from asking him if he thought she was a dimwit. "It would seem that your writing in the diary partially activated its powers. Because of that, I am unable to do what I want with this diary. Not a single one of the spells I prepared in anticipation of working with the diary are proving effective." she explained.

"So are you going to kill me?" Pettigrew asked nervously.

"That is an interesting proposition," Bellatrix said. "However, I am not entirely sure that it would solve my problems. It may be that my spells would have been ineffective on the diary even if you had never touched it."

"What do you want from me?" Pettigrew demanded, his tone of voice at odds with his pathetic demeanor.

"The thing is," Bellatrix said, "I could keep you around here and keep experimenting on the diary for weeks and months, but I do not think it would be useful. I am going to offer you your choice of three options. First, I can hand you over to the Ministry and have them prosecute you for any crimes you have committed. Second, I can hand you over to your friends in the Order of the Phoenix and let them decide how best to deal with you. Third, I can keep you here and let you see if you can unlock the powers of the diary for me."

"I'm not sure," Peter said.

"If you choose one of the first two options, I shall destroy the diary," Bellatrix said. "If you choose the third, I expect your full cooperation in helping me access the diary's power."

"And if I help you unlock its power?" Pettigrew asked, suddenly sounding curious.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I will think about it."

"Very well," Pettigrew said. "I choose the third option."

"So quickly?" Bellatrix asked, bending over to pick up the diary.

"The third choice is the only good choice," Pettigrew said, seeming to warm up to the idea, but nervously watching as Bellatrix made like she was about to leave the room with the diary. "I can even start working on the diary tonight. By tomorrow morning, we could have made significant progress."

"Really?" Bellatrix asked. "By tomorrow morning?"

"Well, it could take longer," Peter said, "but why not start as soon as possible?"

"I suppose I could leave the diary with you tonight," Bellatrix said slowly.

"Yes, please, and some ink and a quill," Peter begged anxiously. "I promise you, I'll help you unlock the diary's powers."

"All right," Bellatrix said, leaving the cell long enough to fetch a bottle of ink and a quill from her purse. She returned to the cell and placed the ink and quill on the floor along with the diary.

"Okay," said Pettigrew. "I-I'll see you in the morning then?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said slowly, taking one last look at Pettigrew. "Remember to keep me fully informed of everything. I shall expect a full report tomorrow."

"Of course," Pettigrew said eagerly, looking as if he had had new life infused into him.

Bellatrix nodded silently and left the cell, making especially sure to secure the locks on the cell door. Suddenly feeling depressed, she leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. Harry would not be pleased at all. But, could Harry truly argue that Peter did not deserve what he was about to get? She had offered Peter plain and simple justice. She had offered him the mercy that his friends might give him. She had even offered to let him work with her against the dark lord.

But, Bellatrix knew that Pettigrew was even now scribbling in the diary, hoping to conjure the Tom Riddle therein so that he could use Riddle's power to overpower her and escape from Privet Drive. Hopefully, the Tom Riddle inside the diary would not be able to perceive that such escape was impossible before it was too late for him to retreat from Bellatrix's trap.

34. Stormy Atmospheres

A/N: Thank you for your continued reviews. Whoever spots the nursery rhyme allusion wins a proverbial gold star.

Chapter 33: Stormy Atmospheres

Lord Silvere

It was the pricking sensation in Harry's scar that first alerted that him that trouble might be on its way toward the Burrow. With the aid of a little burst of adrenaline, Harry roused himself from his drowsy stupor. Swiftly, Harry sat up, pushed himself up from Ginny's bed, and grabbed his flask of Polyjuice potion. He was confident that it had only been about half an hour since he had last roused himself for a swig of the potion, but he took another swig to ensure that he retained Bellatrix's form throughout any attack that might occur.

Securing the bottle onto the belt he had secured around his waist, Harry stepped to the window of Ginny's room and peered out, taking care to move slowly to prevent anyone outside of the Burrow from detecting his presence and alertness. He could see nothing even after charming his eyesight to pick up magical frequencies.

Harry let out a small sigh, wondering if perhaps he was overreacting to the sensations in his scar. In the Lost War, as Bellatrix was so fond of calling it, a slight pricking sensation was something well below Harry's notice. However, Harry was not prepared to gamble in a world where he had not yet established the meaning of every sensation he felt through the scar.

Almost effortlessly, Harry drew his wand and flicked it, casting a silencing charm that would prevent anyone outside of the Burrow from hearing what was happening inside. He stepped out of Ginny's room and onto the staircase landing. "Weasleys!" Harry screamed toward Molly and Arthur's bedroom. "Trouble!"

Feeling slightly disconcerted at hearing Bellatrix's relatively high-pitched voice coming out of his mouth, Harry trotted down the staircase to the main level as he listened to Arthur Weasley bound out of bed.

"Where?" Arthur demanded as he rushed down the stairs in his pajamas with his wand.

"On its way, I think," Harry said, trying to inject a certain amount of diffidence in his voice as he knew Bellatrix naturally would have done.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, peering out the windows and into the darkness of the Burrow's yard.

"Not completely," Harry said, realizing too late that Bellatrix would not have admitted that. "Let's just call it a sixth sense. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Of course," Arthur said.

"I think I will be most effective outside from outside the Burrow," Harry said, moving through the main floor of the house toward the kitchen. "You and Molly should stay in here. Erect shield charms on the inner sides of your walls. Some sound shields for the first part of the battle would not be amiss, either."

"The inner side? Doesn't that leave the structure exposed? And why the sound shields?" Arthur questioned, following Harry to the Burrow's kitchen and wondering precisely what strategy was dictating Bellatrix's strategic advice.

"Trust me on the sound shields. As for the shield charms, their purpose is to save your life, not your house," Harry explained as he surveyed the Weasley's yard from a kitchen window. "If you have extra time, erect shields on the outside, if you wish. Believe me, you will be grateful you started with the inside in the event that things get that bad."

"And what if we get trapped inside?" Arthur demanded, still not buying the peculiar strategy.

"That's why I'll be outside," Harry said quietly as he slipped out the back door and crept through the garden. As he reached the garden's perimeter, he disillusioned himself and brazenly walked across the open yard to a copse of trees that stood relatively near the perimeter of the property.

The prickling in his scar remained, and Harry wondered whether Voldemort would personally lead the attack this evening. Voldemort or no, however, Harry suspected that there would be more than a few Death Eaters. Methodically, he began reviewing the spells he had once been trained to use in large fights against Death Eaters. He had gotten a little bit of practice using them when masquerading as the ghost of Ashworth to haunt Death Eaters. But, he reckoned that he would have been better off if he had found a way to practice them more often in the past. He did not blame himself too much, though. Without the Room of Requirement, it just was not feasible to rehearse attacking and defending against large numbers of hostile combatants.

After as much as a half an hour had passed, Harry began to hear faint popping sounds. It seemed that he had been correct. The popping noises lasted for about five minutes. Sighing silently, Harry estimated that there might be as many as fifty Death Eaters. Gingerly, Harry reached out with his mind to ascertain whether Voldemort was near. He was not. This only partially relieved Harry, for Harry knew that Voldemort could very well appear mid-battle.

Perhaps the only way to ensure that Voldemort did not decide to intrude was to make sure that the Death Eaters never felt they had the upper hand. It seemed to Harry that Voldemort's style was to only show his face and associate himself with the situation if it was going well for him. On the other hand, if Voldemort felt the objective was important enough, he might appear if it seemed his Death Eaters were about to fail.

Realizing that he would just have to wait and see, Harry shifted his position so that he could see the direction from which the pops had come. The wards Bellatrix had modified and erected would be useful, he reckoned, but he knew that no ward could indefinitely hold anybody back.

It took a few minutes and couple of vision-modification spells on Harry's eyes, but eventually, Harry spied a group of Death Eaters gathering together en masse near the ward boundaries on a side of the Burrow that did not have many windows. It appeared to Harry that the Death Eaters intended to combine their efforts to breach the wards. Harry further suspected that other Death Eaters had taken positions at different parts of the ward boundaries to move inward after their compatriots breached the wards.

Normally, those players in a battle would have concerned Harry immensely, but Bellatrix had explained her wards to Harry, and he knew that it was infinitely more practical to focus his efforts on the group that would bring down the wards. Additionally, Harry took comfort knowing that Arthur and Molly would probably be able to pick off individual stragglers that tried to sneak about, particularly when the Weasley couple did not have to fear the main group and could observe the attackers from relative safety.

The skin on Harry's arms prickled as the large group of Death Eaters collectively gathered their magic. Steadying his breathing, Harry gripped his phoenix-feather wand with one hand and eased one of his Wandel wands in its holster. It was a little too early for the ghost of Ashworth, but that strategy would be needed reasonably soon.

Abruptly, the large group of Death Eaters let loose with their wands and at least two dozen spells simultaneously bombarded the wards Bellatrix had erected. The wards held, but the explosion of light and sound that followed stunned Harry, and he faltered back a couple of steps, covering his eyes with his left arm. Before he recovered his full faculties, Harry heard another bombardment. The wards held again. His eyes watering, Harry forced himself to glance at the wards so that he could assess them. The Death Eaters had succeeded in all but destroying the wards. It would take one more good hit to bring them down. Even as Harry made this assessment, he saw that the Death Eaters were preparing that one last hit.

Rapidly, Harry erected sound shields around himself and then used his hands to shield his eyes. He knew that in more ways than one, the third time would bear results. The third barrage came and the wards shattered. Although it was the nature of such wards to disintegrate once breached, Bellatrix had taken steps to alter the way of things.

To begin with, she had ratcheted up the magical tension of the spells and energy holding the wards together. A professional ward maker would have disapproved. Such ward makers knew that until spell makers had found ways to reduce the tension level in wards, wards were equally dangerous and protective to those shielded by them because a failing ward that imploded could very well kill the people it had been protecting.

Bellatrix, too, was well aware of the disaster that could follow the destruction of a high-tension ward. However, rather than avoid disaster, Bellatrix had opted to merely redirect it by erecting a passive inversion field that activated itself only upon being faced with a certain amount of force—about the same amount of force that would be present at the failing of the ward.

Consequently, the third time proved to be the charm for Harry and the Weasleys, for rather than imploding with a great deal of force, Bellatrix's wards exploded. Harry still was not looking and could not hear because of the sound shields, but he literally felt the sonic shockwave from the explosion thump against his sound shields. Harry peeked out from behind his arm and saw that a good portion of the Death Eaters responsible for bringing down the wards were now dead or incapacitated. Those unlucky ones had shielded several of the others from the brunt of the force, however.

Harry reckoned that at least a dozen Death Eaters had survived and hoped that none of the stragglers who had taken positions around the perimeter of the wards had found a way to shield themselves in time. Realizing that he needed a better vantage point, Harry started running for the Weasley's broom shed, wishing that he had been given more time to strategically plan for a battle at the Burrow and desperately hoping there was a spare broom or two in the shed.

The Death Eaters spotted Harry moving across the yard and started shooting stunners and hexes at him. Harry ducked low, but did not slow his run toward the broom shed. He did, however, swing his wand out toward the larger group of Death Eaters and repeated a spell incantation five times in quick succession. Small, but extremely bright, orbs of light shot out from his wand and zoomed toward the Death Eaters. Whining loudly and crackling with what seemed like deadly amounts of magical energy, the orbs started dancing above and among the Death Eaters.

The orbs disoriented the Death Eaters, temporarily putting them on the defensive while Harry made it to the broom shed. He threw open the door and found that he had a choice between two regrettably old Cleansweeps. A moment of déjà vu overcame Harry as he grabbed one of the brooms and realized that in his own version of the future, he had ridden that very broom a couple of times when playing Quidditch with Ron and his brothers.

Fluidly, Harry mounted the broom and kicked off, flying relatively fast. Most of the dozen or so Death Eaters were focused on shooting destructive hexes at the Weasley's house, but there were enough standing around aimlessly who spotted Harry, or rather Bellatrix as Harry appeared to be, zooming out of the shed and into the airspace above the Weasley's land.

They began shooting stunners at Harry and he soon found himself dodging beams of red light almost as if he were dodging bludgers. If it were not for the fact that they were trying to kill him, Harry would have found the challenge to be exhilarating. He freed one of his hands from the broom handle, got his wand into the hand, and started firing back at the Death Eaters, though he did not content himself with mere stunners. He let them have exploding hexes.

Feeling a little adventurous as he wove in and out of the red stunners on the Weasleys' Cleansweep, Harry even used summoning charms to throw some of the Death Eaters into the air. This tactic proved quite terrifying for the Death Eaters, but they soon realized they could apparate back to the ground or cast spells to cushion their falls. Seeing that this tact lacked effectiveness, Harry ceased it.

Eventually, Harry realized that he was going to have to bring more firepower to bear if he was to repel the attack sooner than later. He also suspected that the ghost of Ashworth might be the best trick up his sleeve. Unfortunately, he did not think he could do it while flying through the air and dodging spells.

A plan formed in Harry's mind and he took a moment to iron it out as he continued to zoom about the Weasley's property and exchange spells with the Death Eaters. Hoping that he had enough coordination to pull it off, Harry zoomed toward the perimeter of the property and then looped back, heading toward the back of the Burrow, where the Death Eaters could not see him, and drawing level with the roof. Harry stuck out his legs and landed on the roof, simultaneously using his wand to cast the image projection spell.

Harry did not cast out his true image, though. He formed an image of Bellatrix riding the Cleansweep and sent it zooming over the roof to continue the line of flight Harry had commenced with the loop around the back of the house. Once he was confident that he had a firm footing on the roof of the Burrow, Harry let his mind go to the image he had just projected where he continued his fight with the Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters could see no difference between Harry and the image projection that was now zooming around the property shooting and dodging spells. The only difference that was possible to observe was that the spells the image projection cast never seemed to hit their target or anything in particular. In the heat of battle, though, the Death Eaters did not notice this.

Given a little time, they might have noticed, but Harry was moving through his plan rapidly. Suddenly, the image of Bellatrix became a kamikaze as it zoomed toward one group of Death Eaters. Reflexively, they shot several spells at the projection. Falling short of having the image appear to collide with the Death Eaters, Harry directed the image into a fiery crash about five yards from them.

Ecstatic, the Death Eaters cheered as they watched flames explode around what appeared to be Bellatrix's bloody body and the broken broom she had been riding. Feeling somewhat repulsed at the sight of his wife's body burning, even if it was only an illusory image of it, Harry drew his Wandel wand and jabbed it fiercely toward the Death Eaters who had gathered around the image of the dead body. Suddenly, they were engulfed in a cloud of blackness.

With his phoenix feather wand, Harry cancelled the image projection spell, causing Bellatrix and the flames consuming her body to disappear. Then, rapidly, while still maintaining the cloud of blackness around the Death Eaters with his Wandel wand, Harry used the phoenix feather wand to extinguish as many light sources as he could. He then released the blackness spell from his Wandel wand and cast the spell that would summon the ghost of Ashworth.

The ghost appeared a ways down the lane that led out to the main road from the Burrow. It took only a moment for the Death Eaters to spot it.

"It's Professor Ashworth!" screamed one of the Death Eaters, the voice of whom sounded vaguely familiar to Harry. Harry reckoned that it might have been one of his former students. Not very many people would have much reason to refer to him as "Professor."

The Death Eaters were clearly conflicted as to what they should do about the ghost, for they had heard enough stories about it. Given enough time, they might have thought to do something practical, like run away, but Harry was not giving the Death Eaters much time.

Harry twisted the Wandel wand and the ghost's eyes flared, the flaming eyes easily visible from where Harry was standing. Smiling grimly, he flipped his phoenix feather wand so that he was holding it like a dagger. Harry then began stabbing down with it. In response, bolts of lightning began showering down on the gathered Death Eaters, though they did not stay gathered for long.

As the onslaught continued, the Death Eaters scattered in complete disorder, but the bolts of lightning followed them relentlessly. Harry supposed that it was not a very efficient way to fight the battle, but it seemed sufficient, and he was enjoying himself. Eventually, every Death Eater that Harry could see had been downed and was very likely in need of medical attention. It was doubtful that more than a few had died, though, for Harry was not quite so powerful as to be able to cast lightning with killing power at every stroke. But, he was sure that those he hit would remain stunned for a day or two and could expect to wake up with some awful burns. Such burns were probably far better than the punishment those who had fled would face when Voldemort got his hands on them.

From the now strong prickling sensation in Harry's scar, he got the feeling that Voldemort already knew of the failed attack. Smiling grimly, Harry ceased his storm of lightning on the Weasley's yard. Before apparating down to the ground to inform the Weasleys that he indeed had survived, Harry took a moment to ensure through his scar that Voldemort was not nearby or on the way.

Just as Harry's delicate attempts to scout out Voldemort's mind had revealed that Voldemort was indeed far away and probably not about to come to the Burrow, an assailant thudded against Harry from behind and knocked him to the roof, sending both of Harry's wands clattering over the edge and down into the Weasley's garden below. Gasping, Harry rolled over and tried to push the attacker off, but it was no good. Bellatrix's body did not have the muscles to which Harry was accustomed.

"Bella," the attacker rasped, "oh, Bella!"

Harry's eyes widened as he recognized Rodolphus Lestrange. Not good, Harry thought. Should have been more careful about those Death Eaters who went around the perimeter. Still pinned beneath Rodolphus, Harry tried to find a way out of the situation. Flexing his leg, Harry brought his knee up and into Rodolphus's crotch.

Rodolphus's breath came out of his lungs as if Harry had kneed him in the stomach or lungs. Seizing upon the moment, Harry hit Rodolphus and knocked the Death Eater's own wand from his hand. Struggling, Harry tried to reach for the wand, but it rolled off the roof before Harry could get to it.

Recovering, Rodolphus addressed the person he thought was Bellatrix from behind eyes that shone and watered fiercely. "You bloody witch, you'll pay for that."

"You should have seen it coming," Harry muttered.

This seemed to anger Rodolphus. Still lying atop Harry, he brought his fist up and pounded down on Harry's face a couple of times before grabbing Harry's throat and beginning to squeeze. Harry brought both of Bellatrix's hands up and wrapped them around Rodolphus's throat, hoping that perhaps he could squeeze harder and hold his breath for longer.

Unfortunately, Harry found once again that Bellatrix did not have Harry's muscles. To make things worse, Harry's arms and legs were beginning to hurt fiercely. Rodolphus released his chokehold on Harry and slapped Harry's arms away. "You think you're a match for me?"

Harry did not respond because he now felt pain all over his body. His silence seemed to anger Rodolphus even more, and the Death Eater grabbed Harry by the throat and began choking him again. Feebly, Harry reached up and tried to choke Rodolphus as well. Suddenly the pain engulfed Harry and he felt like his skin was on fire. It was then that Harry realized that it had been more than an hour since his last dose of Polyjuice.

Rodolphus continued choking Harry, but he was now staring in consternation at his assailant. The transformation seemed to last forever, but as soon as it passed, Harry secured a chokehold on Rodolphus and squeezed much harder than Bellatrix's hands had been able. Then deciding to change strategies, Harry released his hold on Rodolphus's neck and delivered a blow to the Death Eater's nose, breaking it.

Harry then wrapped his arms around Rodolphus and rolled, bringing himself to the top. He punched Rodolphus a couple of more times and then began choking him. Rodolphus was barely fighting back as he stared with shock into the face of Harry Ashworth.

Thoughts were racing through Harry's head as he watched the life drain from Rodolphus. Though he was no stranger to killing enemies on the battlefield, Harry was not accustomed to staring the victim in the eyes as he did so. Should he kill Lestrange even if he thought he could capture the wizard alive? Surely, Lestrange had done many awful things deserving of death, but Harry did not see himself as a judge or jury.

On the other hand, if Harry left Lestrange alive, he would expose at least one of Harry's secrets. Were Harry's secrets so crucial to the war efforts that he should feel justified in killing to preserve them? And what of Bellatrix? Harry knew that Lestrange would always come after her if left alive. Once again, though, was it Harry's duty to kill someone because they would probably go after his wife? Could he condemn someone for what they might do in the future?

Before Harry could decide one way or the other, Rodolphus sensed Harry's hesitation and with a sudden surge of energy, pushed Harry off of him, shooting to his feet and preparing to jump on Harry. Harry's defense instincts kicked in, and he rolled toward Lestrange. He then shot his foot up toward the Death Eater and planted it squarely in his crotch, effectively giving the Death Eater another dose of pain, but more crucially, pushing him from the roof.

Screaming, Rodolphus Lestrange fell from the abnormally tall roof of the Burrow where he landed head first on one of the stones that made the path that led to the Weasley's back doorstep. The sound of Lestrange's impact should have been sufficient to signal that the Death Eater was dead, but Harry still peered over the edge of the roof to confirm that Rodolphus Lestrange had suffered a severely broken neck.

With a sigh of relief, Harry fumbled around his person until he found the bottle of Polyjuice potion. Taking a dose, Harry laid back and endured the transformation back into his wife's body. He then lay there, contemplating the death of Rodolphus Lestrange.

~!~!~!~!

Harry was weary when he returned to his and Bellatrix's flat. Happily, he discovered that Bellatrix, in anticipation of his coming home from the Weasleys, had ordered some breakfast from a local restaurant and brought it home for them to share.

"I take it the attack happened," Bellatrix observed drily as she sat down across from Harry, who still was under the effects of Polyjuice. Save for the fact that Harry looked like he had flown through a fiery briar patch, the couple looked almost identical.

"You could say that," Harry said, popping the cap off his orange juice and taking a long sip. "But, I think it would be more accurate to describe it as a battle or a war."

"Oh?" Bellatrix asked, pausing as she waited for Harry to elaborate.

"Your booby trap wards took out a lot of them at the start, but there were still plenty to fight after that," Harry explained, pausing long enough for a mouthful of egg. "All in all, there were about fifteen for the morgue and twenty for Azkaban at the end. The rest escaped."

"That many Death Eaters participated in the attack?" Bellatrix questioned. "I would have expected no more than ten."

"That's about what the Weasleys thought," Harry agreed. "By the time Arthur and Molly realized that we were facing so many, it was too late to send for the Order or Aurors."

"Why send so many Death Eaters to kill the Weasleys?" Bellatrix wondered.

"Moody thought that maybe they were trying to capture the Weasleys immediately after an Order meeting so that they could interrogate them, or worse, impersonate them at the next meeting," Harry said.

"Interesting," Bellatrix said, putting down her fork and taking a sip of orange juice from her own cup. "The Order and Aurors arrived to clean up afterward, did they?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "They were pretty impressed with your skills."

Bellatrix quirked a smile. "As they always should have been."

"There's just one other thing," Harry said after a brief lull in the conversation. "Rodolphus Lestrange was there. He died."

"Well done, Harry," Bellatrix said, smirking. "Did he die a dimwit or did he go down fighting?"

"Err, he was fighting," Harry admitted.

"I guess you can take satisfaction from that, too," Bellatrix said.

Harry nodded awkwardly, not wanting to talk about the subject anymore. The couple continued to make their way through the breakfast, alternating between eating and perusing the different sections of the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

"I suppose you will want to get some sleep," Bellatrix said, finishing the last sip of her orange juice. She set it down and pushed the cup and plate to the side for Kreacher to clean. "I was planning on running some errands. Later today, there is something with which I probably shall need your help."

"All right," Harry said, suddenly remembering the Order meeting the evening before. "Before you go, I was hoping you could make out a check to the Order."

"Say again?"

"I attended the Order meeting last night," Harry said. "I promised to donate twenty-five thousand galleons toward helping Death Eater victims. I'll probably need you to sign and owl the check, seeing as I can't duplicate your signature."

"You just went and dropped twenty-five thousand galleons on the Order?" Bellatrix asked, her voice raising half an octave.

"It's for a good cause," Harry defended. "Besides, it's my money."

"It's our money," Bellatrix retorted in a heated tone of voice. "Couldn't you have consulted with me before doing that?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Harry said. "Dumbledore promised to give an accounting of it."

"Oh, great."

"It will be spent responsibly," Harry reassured her.

Bellatrix sighed. "Maybe I am overreacting."

"No, I understand," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

Bellatrix shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I have spent plenty of galleons when you were not around."

Harry nodded slightly, though he agreed immensely. He searched around for a way to change the subject. "What was it you wanted my help with later?"

"Ah, yes, that," Bellatrix said, seeming suddenly nervous. "All my horcrux tests failed," she admitted. "The only thing left to do was to give the diary to Pettigrew and let him write in it."

Bellatrix did not have to say anything more than that for Harry to get the lay of immediate plans. Harry knew all too well what the inevitable result of letting the diary take over Pettigrew would be. Vaguely, he could understand the strategy and how it could outweigh even the risks posed by keeping Tom Riddle prisoner. Despite this, Harry felt uncomfortable with having had to sacrifice Pettigrew for the sake of the greater good. Unbidden, memories of his third year came to his mind—when he had spared Pettigrew. On the other hand, he also remembered his fourth year . . . and all the other things Pettigrew had done in the war that followed.

"You don't approve, do you?" Bellatrix asked boldly.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "It's just that it is so sudden."

"You think you can go spend a bunch of money on the Order, but when I do something else on my own, you fall apart," Bellatrix said, her voice again rising to that unpleasant half octave step.

"I thought I already apologized for spending thousands of galleons without forewarning you," Harry retorted, now feeling rather irritated.

"So, now you think I should apologize for taking the next logical step in this war?"

"Well, if we're going to start killing prisoners in cold blood, then yeah, I would like to be involved in the decision beforehand," Harry declared angrily. "Or alternatively, if you're going to be killing people without consulting me, then maybe I would like to donate money to charity without consulting you."

"Well, then, be my guest," Bellatrix screamed before her voice dropped into a deathly cold tone. "Only, if you expect me to write the check, forget it. Go to Gringotts and get a cashier's check. Or perhaps, sign your own bloody name." With that, she stood up and stalked out of the room. A moment later, Harry heard the door slam.

Letting out a sigh, Harry reckoned that he might as well go take a shower and then sleep it off. He only wished that he could have the comfort of knowing that Bellatrix was sleeping it off, too. Harry looked around for a clock to check the time. With any luck, he could be fast asleep by the time the Polyjuice wore off and thus avoid the awful transformation back into his own body.

~!~!~!~!

Professor Dumbledore was sucking on two lemon drops when Moody arrived straight from the Weasleys to report on the aftermath of the battle. The aged ex-auror exited from the green floo flames in the fireplace and sat himself down in a chair across the desk from the headmaster.

"I hear that it was far worse than any of us anticipated," Dumbledore said.

"Pretty much," Moody said.

"No casualties, though?"

"None," Moody said, suddenly grinning viciously. "That girl wiped the floor with the Death Eaters. I reckon Voldemort is still punishing the ones that escaped."

"Did Arthur or Molly describe the battle for you?" Dumbledore asked, curious to hear just how well Bellatrix did in a battle against a large number of assailants.

"Even better," Moody said, reaching into his robes and retrieving a small vial. "Arthur gave me the memory. I think you'll want to see it."

The pair was soon inside of Dumbledore's Pensieve, watching as the wards violently exploded outward. Dumbledore eyed the events carefully and very analytically. Moody, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the show more than he was analyzing events.

"High-tension wards, I should think," Dumbledore observed.

"Clever, wasn't it?" Moody said, his tone of voice completely absent of anything grudging. It seemed that Bellatrix had won a fan in him.

"Dangerous, I think," Dumbledore replied.

"Yes, but executed flawlessly."

The wards fell and they watched as Bellatrix disappeared from sight only to remerge on a broomstick. "I find it odd that Mrs. Black suddenly has developed an affinity for flying," Dumbledore commented as he watched Bellatrix weave in and out the hexes being shot her way all while firing of her own spells.

"It's never too late to learn," Moody observed as he used his wand to take control of the memory and speed it up.

"Except that I've found that those who don't take to broomsticks in their childhood often do not take it up as adults," Dumbledore countered. "I do not think Mrs. Black ever rode a broomstick while at Hogwarts. Don't you find it odd that she is now riding a broomstick with the skill and precision of a professional Quidditch player?

"Perhaps," Moody said, brushing off the observation. "This is the important part right here," he said, slowing down the memory just as Bellatrix disappeared from sight yet again.

Dumbledore and Moody then watched as Bellatrix disappeared before suddenly shooting over the top of the Burrow and crashing into the ground. Surprise showing in his twinkling blue eyes, Dumbledore stared at Bellatrix's burning corpse.

"An illusion spell, I should think," Moody declared, pausing the memory and stepping forward. He leaned down, sticking his head through the fake flames around Bellatrix's body.

"It would appear that Bellatrix did not share everything she knows about illusion spells with us." Dumbledore concluded.

"That's a pity," Moody said. "This particular illusion spell is very good, but not perfect. If we could use this illusion spell, we could use the Ashworth ghost ploy almost whenever we wanted."

Where are imperfections in this illusion?" Dumbledore asked, moving closer to the illusion.

"The illusion of blood is everywhere, but there are no open wounds," Moody explained. He then straightened himself and pointed to the roof of the Burrow that faded into obscurity. "I assume that Bellatrix stationed herself up there. We won't see her anymore because Arthur's line of vision was completely cut off from there."

The two aged wizards then observed as the battle proceeded with the appearance of Ashworth's ghost and the storm of lightning. When they exited the Pensieve, Dumbledore returned to the chair behind his desk and sat down heavily. "Perhaps I have estimated Mrs. Black's prowess," he said by way of conversation.

Moody did not take a seat. "Gives us something to think about. We should increase our efforts to recruit her to working directly in our ranks."

"You're probably right," Dumbledore agreed. "I was already planning on speaking to her about other matters."

"Hopefully your meeting with her happens soon and goes well," Moody said. "I'm afraid that I promised Arthur that I would go and help erect new wards as soon as I finished talking to you."

"They aren't going to ask Mrs. Black to re-erect her high-tension wards?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Though highly satisfied with the results, Arthur and Molly feel like they would prefer less . . . exciting wards," Moody observed, grinning crookedly as he existed the room and shut the door behind him.

Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle as he stared off into space for several moments. He was just about to push himself out of his chair and make his way down to breakfast when a knock at the door announced a new visitor.

"Come in," Dumbledore called.

The door opened to reveal Rose Potter. "Hello, Headmaster, I was hoping you might have a moment."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said very solemnly, rising to invite her in to take a chair. "What can I do for you this morning?"

Rose took offered chair and leaned forward in it. "Leo and I have been in communication with Bellatrix Black," she began. "She's searching for more magical objects like the diary."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Dumbledore said, not entirely sure how much he wanted to reveal to Rose.

"I know where one is," Rose announced.

This got Professor Dumbledore's attention. "How did you come to know where it is?"

"I had a vision in our Divination class," Rose explained.

"When you broke the crystal ball," Dumbledore interrupted, suddenly having caught onto the reason behind the story of Rose's stranger-than-normal behavior that had circulated among the staff during the past few days.

"Err, yes," Rose admitted.

"Then I must applaud you for taking steps to protect the secrecy of that vision," Dumbledore said, a slight note of approval in his voice.

"Thank you," Rose acknowledged. "I thought that the fewer who knew, the better. Leo and I did take steps to inform Bellatrix, though. We were hoping that she might be able to tell us more about the hiding place."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and regarded Rose with thinly veiled consternation. "You took steps to keep the vision a secret, but then immediately informed Mrs. Black? I thought that given your past history with her and these magical objects, you might at the very least be hesitant to associate with her."

"We have had our differences, but I know she's on the right path," Rose admitted, speaking quickly as her façade of maturity fractured while she tried to explain an illogical act.

"All right, so you have overcome your differences," Dumbledore said, accepting the proposition for the sake of the conversation. "Now, why would you need to consult Mrs. Black about the hiding place if you saw it in vision?"

"The thing is, I had a vision of the room where the object is, but Leo and I cannot find the room anywhere in Hogwarts even though we know that the room is in Hogwarts. We contacted her to see if she knew anything."

"Did she?"

"I think so," Rose said. "But, she would not tell us anything about the room."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps if you told me about the room I might recognize it."

Rose described the room and everything she had seen in detail for Professor Dumbledore, who listened with rapt attention. "Once we find and enter the room, I suspect it will take quite a bit of time to hone in on the object itself considering how much stuff is in the room."

"I am afraid that I do not know anything about this room," Dumbledore admitted, speaking slowly as he mentally reviewed his memories for anything that might ring a bell. "There are many rooms that are not always accessible and that have been forgotten. Perhaps the room you saw in vision is one of those rooms. Or perhaps, it is a room like the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes, that was what I was thinking," Rose said. "What do you suppose we should do?"

"Do?" Dumbledore asked.

"We will want this magical object for ourselves, will we not?" Rose asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed hesitantly. "Obtaining these objects is now one of my utmost priorities for waging the war against Voldemort. However, Mrs. Black seems to be more effective at accomplishing this task than I or anyone else."

Rose looked at Professor Dumbledore quizzically. "So, what are you saying then?"

"I think," Dumbledore said slowly, "that it would be helpful to the Order, and the war effort in general, if you offered Mrs. Black any assistance that you are willing to offer should she ask."

"So, help her find and capture these objects?" Rose asked.

Dumbledore nodded slowly as he looked past to Rose and stared into space. "Yes. Please do not speak of this to anybody, however. Even Order members. The capturing of these objects is a highly sensitive operation. Secrecy is imperative."

"There is little I do not tell Leo," Rose replied. "And what about my parents?"

Dumbledore was silent for several moments. "I think that you can involve any of your young friends that you feel you can trust and towards whom Mrs. Black is not averse. As for your parents, that will have to be your concern when you decide what aid you can offer Mrs. Black if she asks."

"Why do you not ask other adult members of the Order to help Bellatrix?" Rose asked, frowning.

Professor Dumbledore shrugged, and slumped forward, leaning on his desk. "I am afraid I do not have much choice in the matter. I think Mrs. Black needs assistance in her endeavors, but she has so far refused to accept any save for, on occasion, you and your friends."

"Why would she only take assistance from my friends and I?" Rose wondered.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I suspect it is because she feels she can manipulate and overpower you easily. Working with older Order members involves too many discussions where people express their own opinions about how something should be done."

Rose did not seem to appreciate the suggestion that Bellatrix viewed her as someone easy to manipulate, but she pushed past that. "And if Bellatrix captures an object with our help? What then? Do we allow her to take it to wherever she hides? Or do we attempt to capture it for you?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Do not try to subvert Mrs. Black's efforts. For the time being, I will let her decide what is to be done with these objects."

~!~!~!~!

His cloak billowing behind him, Snape retreated from breakfast in the Great Hall and made his way down through the castle and into the dungeons to his office so that he could make last minute preparations for his first class of the day. To his surprise, he found the door of his office open and the light on. Whipping out his wand, he stalked into the office, prepared to verbally abuse whichever student he found there. Inside, he found Bellatrix Black sitting at his desk in the process of thumbing through a rare potions text.

"How did you get in here?" Snape barked.

Bellatrix looked up from the text and locked her gaze on him. "Hello, Severus."

Snape stood silently, glaring at her, the question still in the air.

Seeing that he was not about to back down, Bellatrix snapped shut the potion text and stood up. "Surely you remember the time when my husband was potions master at Hogwarts," she said. "This was his office, and I spent a lot of time here."

Snape leered at Bellatrix as she returned the book to its rightful place on one of the shelves. "Professor Ashworth may have been the potions instructor, but he was by no means a potions master."

"I think my husband would have had no qualms in agreeing that you were always better at potions than he," Bellatrix said. "I, too, think you are a marvelous potions mater. In fact, that is why I have come to see you."

"What do you want?" Snape hissed.

"Veritaserum," Bellatrix answered.

"For what?"

"Pettigrew," Bellatrix said, retreating to visitor side of the desk as Snape slithered in and established ownership over his chair. "Most potions are for sale in the right places, but not Veritaserum. Seeing as I have not yet cozied up to the Ministry, I thought of you as the next best opportunity."

"I am not really inclined to assist you in your shenanigans," Snape said. "Particularly, I am not inclined to help because while you have captured Pettigrew, you have yet to produce Draco for your sister and have failed to send her word about his condition."

Bellatrix smiled. "Fear not, lover boy. Draco is safe."

"Then hand him over to his mother," Snape ground out angrily as his nostrils flared. "Keep your oath."

"I never promised delivery," Bellatrix replied, smirking. "I promised to not kill him and help him when I can. I have not killed him and arguably, you could say that I am helping him."

"What does it profit you to keep custody of Draco?" Snape bit out, trying to hide rising emotions.

"It will profit me quite a bit," Bellatrix said calmly. "In fact, I think it is about to profit me this very moment."

"How so?"

"Well," Bellatrix said slowly. "If you give me a small vial of Veritaserum without further fuss, I promise to contact Narcissa within the next seven days and arrange for her to have the chance to visit with Draco for a few hours. There is a half-decent Muggle restaurant not far from where Draco has taken up residence. He and his mother could have lunch. Draco would love it. After all, I do not really go out of my way to feed him. You could even come along, if you wanted."

"How dare you," Snape hissed.

"It is for a good cause," Bellatrix reminded him. "You know? As in ending the war? I could turn you and Narcissa into war heroes."

"The end does not always justify the means," Snape tried to argue.

"Look Severus, if you make this any more difficult, I will go upstairs and convince Professor Dumbledore that I need Veritaserum. If I have to do that, Narcissa does not get to see Draco this week, and you will still be handing over a sample of your Veritaserum," Bellatrix declared.

"I'm going to inform Albus of this," Snape said as he stood and unlocked his potions cabinet.

"Be my guest," Bellatrix said irritably.

~!~!~!~!~

Scowling even though she had gotten precisely what she wanted, Bellatrix stalked through the Hogwarts dungeons. The Veritaserum was for a good cause, and surely, Professor Dumbledore would have given it to her had she but asked for it. She just did not want to talk to him today—not about horcruxes, not about Pettigrew, and certainly not about sizeable donations to the Order. A vague thought crept into her head that maybe she should just go up to the Headmaster's office and write the check Harry had promised. It was for a good cause, after all. Harry had not meant to offend her.

Bellatrix shook her head and quashed the thought. Of course he didn't mean to offend me, she thought furiously. He just seems to think that he can make important decisions independently while I cannot. How dare he question me about Pettigrew! How dare he be offended! I know what I am doing. Doesn't he trust me?

"Bellatrix?" a small voice asked, intruding on Bellatrix's thoughts.

Realizing that she had let her guard down while thinking about Harry, Bellatrix spun around to identify who had addressed her. It was Ginny Weasley, and she suddenly looked like she regretted interrupting Bellatrix's train of thought.

"Hello, Ginny," Bellatrix said very formally while attempting to regain her composure.

"I just wanted to thank you," Ginny said rapidly, her face heating up in embarrassment. "My mum told me about how you have been sleeping at the Burrow, and then of course, last night."

Silently, Bellatrix regarded Ginny for a moment before answering. "I will be sure to pass along your gratitude."

Ginny looked shocked. "But . . . if . . . then how?

"Polyjuice," Bellatrix said, suddenly smirking. "Remember though, that little tidbit is still protected by the oaths of secrecy you took." She was about to turn her back on the Weasley girl, but suddenly another voice was hailing her.

"Mrs. Black," came Rose Potter's voice.

Bellatrix suppressed an annoyed groan.

"Mrs. Black," Rose said again as she approached the spot in the hallway where Bellatrix and Ginny were standing. She was carrying her satchel, seemingly on her way to her morning class. "What are you doing here?"

"Making social calls," Bellatrix said. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to let you know something."

"What?" Bellatrix asked.

"On this hunt for magical objects, my friends and I are willing to help you," Rose said. "If we can do anything, let us know."

From the look on Ginny's face, this seemed to be news to her.

Bellatrix allowed the smirk to return to her face. "Yes, well, the next time I need to invade Hogwarts and need someone on the inside, I will let you know. Otherwise, you shall have to wait for summer." Bellatrix said.

"You are too kind," Rose said somewhat sarcastically.

"Aren't I, though?"

"But," Rose said, lowering her voice substantially, "I reckon we could sneak out of Hogwarts if it was important enough."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I can see it already," she declared. "The tide of the war turns because Hogwarts students start cutting classes."

"Let us know should the need arise," Rose said blithely, overlooking Bellatrix's sarcasm.

"Oh, I will," Bellatrix said, a false grin on her face as she casually waved goodbye and walked away from the two younger witches. She hoped that she could find a less-travelled path that would take her to the secret entrance she had employed to get into the castle unnoticed.

~!~!~!~!~!

"So, let me see if I have this straight," Amelia Bones said to Arthur and Molly Weasley as she reviewed the notes she had taken in a small notebook. "You were asleep in bed. Suddenly, this attack happens. Your wards suddenly explode. You are exchanging spell fire with a rather large force of Death Eaters, and then suddenly the ghost of Harry Ashworth appears at the end of your lane, walks on up to the house, and lets loose with rapid-fire lightning strikes."

"The lightning came after the ghost's eyes flared," Arthur corrected, looking at Amelia with an extremely bland expression in his eyes.

"Right," Amelia said, noting it on the parchment. She shut the notebook, placed it on the table, and picked up the cup of tea Molly had provided at the beginning of the interview. "It may be just me," she said, "but I find it a little odd that this ghost, who has only ever shown itself in London, suddenly showed up here for a Death Eater battle in the countryside."

"Well, everywhere the Death Eaters go, the ghost is sure to follow," Molly suggested.

"That's feasible enough," Amelia admitted, sitting there and casually sipping tea as if the matter had been settled. Just as Arthur and Molly relaxed, Amelia struck. "Now, tell me. Who was sleeping in your daughter's bedroom last night?"

"What makes you think someone was sleeping in Ginny's room?" Molly demanded.

"The blankets were rumpled," Amelia pointed out.

"Ginny could have rumpled them at Christmas," Arthur said.

"Yes," Amelia said, "right after dying her hair black and leaving some of it on the pillow."

"Are we the ones on trial?" Molly demanded.

"No," Amelia said, "but I have a strong personal interest in certain current events."

"Well, how about you do everybody a favor and keep your theories to yourself," Arthur said.

"Notice that I waited to broach the subject until after my colleagues finished cleaning up your yard," Amelia said. "Be assured that I will be the soul of discretion." She stood up, took her notebook, and slid into her cloak pocket. "Give Bellatrix Black my regards, if you will."

35. The Chicken, Wizard, and Firebolt

A/N: As always, please accept my gratitude for your reviews.

Chapter 34: The Chicken, Wizard, and Firebolt

Lord Silvere

After a refreshing morning and partial afternoon's worth of sleep, Harry stirred from the flat he and Bellatrix shared and made his way to Diagon Alley under a disguise constructed with a few basic cosmetic charms designed to lighten his hair, push back his hairline, and darken his eyes. The goblins at Gringotts readily provided Harry with the latest status of his and Bellatrix's accounts, a small collection of magical and Muggle credit cards with the name of Harry Ashworth Black stamped on the front, a hefty moneybag full of galleons, and a cashier's check for 25,000 galleons made out to Professor Dumbledore.

Harry proceeded to the Owl Post Office where he parted with the cashier's check and then wandered over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. After about an hour of flipping through Quidditch magazines, perusing playbooks, and eyeballing the latest Quidditch gear, Harry approached the clerk.

"I'll take one . . . well, make it two, Firebolts," Harry announced.

The clerk who had long given up on making a sale to Harry spluttered in surprise. "Two?"

"My wife can't complain if I get her one, too, can she?" Harry said, winking. If getting her one did not work, Harry reckoned that he would just have to start itemizing all the junk she had bought in the recent months—starting with the crafter's wand set.

His bag of galleons almost completely empty, Harry walked out of the shop carrying two Firebolts under his arm. He was about to apparate away, when he caught sight of the Weasley twins' shop. Figuring that it would not hurt to go take a look, Harry sauntered over that way and stepped through the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, smoothly dodging a flying rubber chicken that was wont to prey on the shop's visitors.

"You shape like someone who has been here before," said Fred, or George, from behind the counter. "But, I can't say that I've ever met you.

Harry smiled, feeling somehow thrilled to see the Weasley twins. "The reputation of you and your brother precede you both."

The twin eyed Harry and took note of the two brand-new Firebolts under Harry's arm. "Quidditch lover, are you?"

"It's been a while since I played," Harry admitted, "but I still enjoy a fast broom—particularly these days."

"These days, most people can't afford Firebolts," the other twin declared, emerging from a room behind the counter.

"A truly unfortunate circumstance," Harry noted, approaching the counter and deciding to push past the pleasantries. "I'm in the market for a case trick wands, a few packs of Canary Creams, and several bags of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

"A party animal, eh?" said one of the twins.

"It'll be a smashing party," Harry declared, producing several dozen galleons as one of the twins went to fetch his order.

After that side stop, Harry made his way home and was relieved to see that Bellatrix had not yet arrived home from her errands. Harry stashed the supplies from the Weasleys' shop upstairs with his main stockpile of things he liked to keep on hand, and then proceeded back downstairs to his and Bellatrix's bedroom with the idea that he could hide the Firebolts under the bed until Bellatrix cooled off.

However, to do this, Harry found himself having to extract from underneath the bed a dozen pairs of Bellatrix's shoes and boots before he could push the broomsticks under the bed. Then, once he had hidden the broomsticks satisfactorily well, Harry attempted to squeeze all the footwear back under the bed. Unfortunately, he found himself left with a pair of heels, a pair of formal slippers, and a pair of winter boots when he heard the flat's door open. Panicking, Harry tossed the leftovers into the back of one of the closets and went out to meet Bellatrix.

"Hello, Harry," Bellatrix said frostily upon spotting him in the hallway.

"Uh, hi," Harry said, leaning against the wall and then changing direction to follow his wife in her uninterrupted march to the bedroom where she unloaded her purse and a number of books. From the bedroom, she proceeded to the bathroom where she shut the door, leaving Harry out in the hall.

"So," Harry called just loudly enough for Bellatrix to hear him through the door, "were we planning on visiting young Mr. Riddle tonight?"

After the passage of several awkward moments, Bellatrix finally deigned to answer. "You had better be planning on it."

"I always was," Harry wheedled, trying to find a way to patch up the relationship. "You kind of just caught me off guard this morning. I've thought about it. It was probably the sensible thing to do."

"Obviously, it was the sensible thing to do," Bellatrix shot back through the door. "Now, will you leave me alone?"

"All right," Harry said, "I'll go cook dinner. Okay?"

"Fine."

Harry cooked dinner, all the while trying to think of ways to thaw out the air between him and Bellatrix. Ultimately, he did not come up with any brilliant ideas and consequently suffered through dinner in silence with Bellatrix limiting the subject of any conversation to salt, pepper, and the obnoxious noises coming from the workers remodeling a shop building across the street.

To Harry, it seemed an eternity before dinner ended. In silence, he and Bellatrix apparated to the doorstep of #2 Privet Drive. Upon entering, they found Draco indolently sitting on one of the couches with a bag of potato crisps at his side and a deli sandwich in his hands. The remains of his lunch and breakfast were also sitting on the couch.

"If you are going to live in my house, you have to keep it clean!" Bellatrix snarled as Harry looked on with thinly veiled amusement.

Draco blinked. "Isn't that what the house elves are for?"

"You are the house elf!" Bellatrix snapped. "How many lawns did you mow today?"

"Enough to eat," Draco groused. "Speaking of which, I have a complaint."

"Oh, really?" Bellatrix said, arching he eyebrows dangerously.

Privately, Harry hoped that this would be a good fight. It might help Bellatrix let out her stored up anger on someone other than him.

"Yeah," Draco said somewhat angrily. "The Dursleys' entire yard is infested with garden gnomes."

"So?"

"So? So?" Draco yelled. "Obviously you introduced them into the Dursleys' yard to make me miserable, as if it isn't bad enough that I have to mow that foul Muggle's lawn for free!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Bellatrix said coolly. "Where would I have even gone to find garden gnomes? They are not all that easy to find. You probably brought them back from Albania."

"Do you think I am going to buy that?" Draco responded, becoming even angrier. "Somehow I had garden gnomes in my hair and spread them to the neighbor's yard? You did it on purpose!"

Bellatrix glared at Draco. "That's it. You are going to clean up this mess, and then you either are going to go and lock yourself in your room upstairs or you are going to go work on remodeling my house a few streets down."

"What if I do neither?" Draco sneered, leaning back on the couch.

Harry thought he could see the steam coming out of Bellatrix's ears.

Bellatrix pointed to Harry. "If you don't, Ivan, here, will fetch some blood pudding and a box of salt. He will then use the pudding and salt to teach you a lesson that you will never forget, boy."

Draco's mouth dropped open as he contemplated the possibilities while staring at Harry. "W-who is Ivan?"

"Ivan is my personal, private hit-wizard," Bellatrix snapped. "Now what will it be?"

Draco leapt up, gathered up his garbage, and scurried out the back door.

"So . . . ," Harry said casually, "just what would I have been doing with the pudding and salt?"

"How should I know?" Bellatrix groused, using her wand to reveal the basement door. "You might want to be thinking, though. If young Mr. Riddle has come out of the diary, we might be doing something up that alley.

"Wouldn't you say that Veritaserum might be easier?" Harry asked as they walked down the stairs together.

"I was joking," Bellatrix admitted, producing a vial of what Harry thought looked like Veritaserum.

They found themselves in front of the door to the cell where Bellatrix had left Peter the night before. They stood there for several moments before Bellatrix finally broke the silence, speaking quietly and very casually. "So, you are the only one to have met this version of the Dark Lord. How should we handle it?"

"I assumed that you might already have some ideas," Harry said truthfully, but not wanting to sound snippy.

"I did not really think about it," Bellatrix confessed.

"I see," Harry said. "Well, he is clever and would likely anticipate the kicking open the door and letting fly with stunners routine."

Bellatrix shook her head. "That routine is effective whether or not you expect it."

"It can't hurt to be careful," Harry countered. "I think I have just the thing. The Order of my future used to experiment with potential battlefield spells. I've got one that didn't ever go anywhere, but will work in this situation."

"Fine," Bellatrix said. "I will get the door."

Bellatrix took position at the door, while Harry got down on his knees next to the door where he could point his wand into the room as soon as the door cracked open. Young Tom Riddle would not be expecting the spell Harry had up his sleeve, nor the direction from which it would be coming from.

Once Harry signaled that he was ready, Bellatrix rapidly undid the enchantments on the door and began cracking it open. As soon as Bellatrix had gotten the door open to about an inch, Harry poked his wand toward the crack, being careful to keep the wand from passing the door's threshold. A small red orb floated into the room. After getting about two feet into the room, it abruptly exploded, letting out the equivalent of a stunning charm in all directions.

At Harry's signal, Bellatrix threw the door open all the way, and Harry burst into the room to find Peter Pettigrew's corpse toward one end, and a moaning Tom Riddle on the other end, close to the side of the door. Harry shot Tom with an actual stunner and then gave Bellatrix the all clear.

"Well, I can see why that spell never went anywhere," Bellatrix commented. "It could not even stun a single wizard in a small room."

"An astute observation," Harry declared, summoning some leftover remodeling supplies from the main basement area and transfiguring them into a chair and shackles. Taking a minimal amount of time, Harry and Bellatrix moved the unconscious Tom Riddle to the chair and restrained him with the shackles and a number of spells.

Then, while Bellatrix took the opportunity to put a hefty dose of Veritaserum on Tom's tongue, Harry scanned the room and found the diary. He retrieved it from its place on the floor and placed it outside of the room. By that time, Bellatrix announced that they were ready.

Harry returned to the prison cell and watched as Bellatrix revived Tom Riddle. It took several moments, but eventually, Tom had regained full consciousness and was looking at Harry and Bellatrix, who were watching him silently.

"Bellatrix Black and the inestimable Professor Ashworth, I assume," Tom said. "Peter told me so much about you."

"I assume that you are speaking relatively," Harry said drily. "He knew very little."

"It was enough to intrigue me," Tom said. "The story of a young wizard assuming a post at Hogwarts and then from there becoming a close, personal advisor to the Minister of Magic. Surely you are interested in continuing where you left off. I could be of use to you."

Harry smiled. "Your information about me is quite dated, and your conclusions are incorrect. However, you shall be of use to us."

"Tell us about your plan to make horcruxes," Bellatrix commanded.

Tom sat silently for a moment and then frowned. "You've given me a truth potion, haven't you?"

"Yes, now start speaking," Bellatrix said.

Tom smiled thinly. "Truth potions are not Imperius curses."

Bellatrix's eyes flared angrily, and she produced the vial of Veritaserum. "You speak truly. However, given the right dosage, an observer cannot tell the difference. She uncapped the vial, holding both the vial and stopper in one hand. With the other hand, she pinched Tom's nose until his mouth opened wide, at which point, she poured half the vial down his throat. Smugly, she capped the vial and stepped back as she and Harry watched Tom's eyes fog over.

"Tell us about your plans to make horcruxes," Bellatrix said.

In a monotone, young Tom Riddle detailed how he had discovered what a horcrux was. He concluded by detailing a conversation he had shared with Professor Slughorn. "After the conversation," Tom said, "I determined that I would make seven horcruxes because the number is magically significant in Arithmancy."

Harry let out an unhappy sigh. "How many horcruxes do you know of?"

"This diary," Tom Riddle answered.

"What about the horcruxes you were planning on making in the immediate future?" Bellatrix asked. "Did you have objects in mind?"

"My family ring," Tom said.

"Blast," Bellatrix muttered to Harry. "I had hoped for more. All we have accomplished is confirm the existence of the two horcruxes we have destroyed or control. There are five still out there."

"Actually," Harry admitted, "Rose thinks there is one in the Room of Requirement."

"So, four, then," Bellatrix said. "That does not really put us ahead, here."

"Indeed," Harry said. "But, there is one question we can still ask." He looked at Tom who still looked beyond stoned. "Tell me, Tom, if you had a horcrux right now and needed to keep it safe, where would you hide it?"

"There is a cave I visited in my childhood . . . ," Tom said slowly.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry was in bed, nearly at the threshold of sound sleep, when Bellatrix jabbed him with her fist. Lifting his pillow off his face, Harry looked up at Bellatrix, who was sitting up in their bed reading a book with the aid of a lamp on the bedside table. "Just go to bed, Bella," Harry pleaded. "Surely it can wait until the morning."

Bellatrix ignored Harry's comment and proceeded with her own train of thought. "The cave will be very well protected if the Dark Lord has hidden a horcrux there."

"I thought we already decided that," Harry mumbled, shifting his weight and trying to settle down in the bed. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the lamp light.

"That means we probably will want to take Tom with us when we visit," Bellatrix said.

"I would rather not," Harry said, considering whether he could get away with putting the pillow back over his head. "It's too risky."

Keeping the book open, Bellatrix set it down on her chest and leaned back against the headboard. "The risks of taking Tom along would be eliminated if you were to use the Imperius Curse on him."

"I don't know how to cast an Imperius," Harry demurred. "If you want to cast it on him, be my guest. But, I should warn you that there is a fair chance that he is immune to it."

Bellatrix picked up her book and studied it for several minutes. Hoping that she was finished with him, Harry placed the pillow back over his head and savored the darkness. It was not to last long, however.

"No, Harry," Bellatrix said, putting the book back down, "it will have to be you who casts the Imperius. If the cave is heavily protected, I will have to use my expertise in the Dark Arts to unravel the defenses. It is better that you learn one new spell than try to be as competent as someone who has a lifetime worth of training and knowledge of Dark Arts lore."

"Putting aside my doubts that you really have a lifetime of experience," Harry said, his voice muffled through the pillow, "there remains the fair chance that Tom is immune to the Imperius Curse, just as I am."

Bellatrix reached over, grabbed the pillow covering Harry's face, and tossed it across the room. "That's all the more reason why you have to cast the Imperius Curse," Bellatrix declared. "You are far more powerful than I. As for his potential immunity, you forget that he has split his soul. How hard could it be to overwhelm a fragment?"

"How hard could it be to find a different plan?" Harry retorted, blinking owlishly at the light.

"Reasonably difficult," Bellatrix replied. "Besides, I think you will have to learn Imperius, anyway. It figures in to my plan to help find the other horcruxes."

"I didn't realize you already had a plan to find the other horcruxes," Harry said, still annoyed at not being allowed to sleep, but also curious to see what Bellatrix had cooked up after spending months studying horcruxes and other Dark Arts subjects.

Bellatrix nodded. "Yes, I have a plan. For now, though, you need to learn the Imperius Curse."

Harry sighed. He supposed it made sense—and the Imperius curse could be useful so long as he did not earn himself a lifetime in Azkaban for using it. He reached over and grabbed his glasses from his nightstand. Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his wand. "All right, let's get started," he said.

"Just on what were you planning to use the Imperius Curse? Bellatrix asked.

"You, of course," Harry said, yawning. "Now, tell me, what is the precise wand movement?"

"You can't use it on me!" Bellatrix said, sounding very surprised and almost panicked.

"Who else am I going to practice on?" Harry asked. "I don't want to get caught in a mistake when I'm casting it on Tom. If it is necessary for me to learn the curse, you will have to be my guinea pig. Besides, it is beginning to look like the Imperius Curse may be the only way I can get you to bed so I can sleep."

Bellatrix glared at him for a long moment, but finally did explain the intricacies of the curse.

Harry succeeded on casting the curse on the fourth try. He could feel Bellatrix resisting it, but for all her effort, her success was much akin to one trying to break down a wall of stone with a feather. With a grim smile on his face, Harry directed her to get out of bed, skip out the bedroom door, and down the hall. Once she arrived in the living room, Harry directed her to switch on the wireless and dance wildly to the music.

Satisfied that Bellatrix was now otherwise occupied, Harry grabbed her book from the bed where he had directed her to leave it, and placed it back on the bedroom shelf. He then transfigured the lamp into a pillow. Harry then took off his glasses and slipped back in bed smirking as he listened to the music echoing down the hall.

After about twenty minutes, Harry was back to feeling sleepy and was confident that Bellatrix would also be feeling ready for bed. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and cancelled the spell. Almost immediately, the wireless music ceased and then there was ominous silence. Just as Harry was beginning to wonder if he should do something to protect himself, he felt Bellatrix jump on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs.

As Harry wheezed, she grabbed her pillow and started beating him savagely with it.

"You were practically begging for it," Harry protested, beginning to laugh in between the thump-thump of the pillow hitting in the face and chest in the dark.

For some reason, the laughter stilled Bellatrix. Harry wondered why, but in the dark he could not see the expression on her face so as to judge her attitude. Suddenly, she was kissing him, albeit somewhat violently. After realizing that she was not going to stop to let him breathe, Harry started fighting back. He rolled them over so that he was on top, tickled her, and when she gasped, he broke free and took a breath before going back to kissing. It was going to be a long night, but Harry supposed he had practically begged for it.

~!~!~!~!~!

The next evening arrived before Harry and Bellatrix felt prepared to visit the cave about which Tom had told them. Trial and error had revealed that Harry was capable of putting Tom under an Imperius. However, Tom was just strong enough that if Harry did not focus the spell on him constantly, he could overcome the spell. This had led to the problem of figuring out how to transport Harry and Tom while maintaining Harry's control over Tom. Apparition was not on option.

Bellatrix had proposed Veritaserum, but Harry had pointed out that not only were they nearly out of stock, but that if they put Tom under enough Veritaserum to eliminate the need for the Imperius during travel, the younger version of Voldemort would be completely unable to help them assess the defenses that might surround the cave.

In the end, Harry provided the solution by digging out one of the Rubik's cubes. One of the cube's destinations could be reprogrammed without having to actually create a new portkey, an act which the Ministry might or might not be able to detect. It had been easy to make numerous portkeys in the 1970s, but now, Harry suspected that manufacturing portkeys would draw unwanted attention. Reprogramming a current portkey was effective enough for anybody's purpose, and if the portkey in question was not one of the Rubik's cubes, one could accomplish the task quite quickly. But, it was a Rubik's cube.

"Any hour now," Bellatrix said sarcastically as she used a pair of omninoculars to peer out one of the windows of #2 Privet Drive.

"You couldn't do it any faster," Harry shot back as he sat on a couch, hunched over the cube, which sat on the coffee table.

"True," Bellatrix admitted, adjusting one of the knobs on the omnioculars and leaning forward, "but I am not the one who manufactured the cube, either."

"The manufacturer is not the designer," Harry snapped.

"Obviously, you knew enough to make it."

"I was trained to mass produce them," Harry replied. "This is a newer design that was never quite refined before we had to get them out to the Order. It is a lot more complicated because my friend integrated her new double repulsion portkey into the design. If you make one change, you have to make it in several places or the portkey begins to experience severe malfunctions."

Bellatrix began to giggle wildly as she simultaneously adjusted two more of the knobs on the omninoculars.

"Yes, I thought my statement was hilarious," Harry said as he continued to prod at the cube and cast spells.

"I am not laughing at you," Bellatrix said, "I am laughing with you . . . at your aunt and uncle."

"Great. What are they doing? Or should I ask, what did you just do to them?"

"Well, it appears that their roast chicken dinner just got up out of the baking pan and is making a run for it," Bellatrix commented.

"Should have cooked it longer," Harry said, deadpan. Bellatrix continued to watch the Dursleys through her omninoculars as Harry cast spells on the Rubik's cube. Finally, Harry could resist it no longer. "Now what's happening?"

The omninoculars pressed right up against her eyes, Bellatrix grinned. "The chicken is atop the sideboard dancing provocatively, your aunt is on the telephone, and your uncle has run upstairs . . . oh wait, here he is again. He's got one of those Muggle blasting wands."

Harry winced as he heard the report of a shotgun from next door.

"Oh dear," Bellatrix said, shifting so that the omninoculars were in one hand. She eased her wand out of its holster. "I think the chicken should probably make for the street if it wants to get anywhere in one piece."

Fortuitously, Harry finished with the Rubik's cube portkey and joined Bellatrix at the window just in time to watch the chicken cross the road. Just then, a large black dog bounded up to the chicken and attacked it.

"Of all the things!" Bellatrix grumbled, getting ready to do something with her wand.

"Stop!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes widening. "That's an animagus."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's Sirius."

"Meddling family members," Bellatrix grumbled. "At least I put some defenses into the chicken ahead of time."

The couple watched as the chicken double slapped Padfoot across the snout with one of its stubby wings before spinning and waddling down the road as fast as it could go. Padfoot seemed to be simultaneously shocked and thrilled at this turn of events. Letting out a loud howl, he bounded excitedly down the street to tussle with the chicken.

"At least somebody is enjoying himself," Harry said, cracking a smile.

"Your mom isn't," Bellatrix snickered.

"What!"

Bellatrix pointed. "She just arrived—there on the porch with your aunt and uncle. She looks pretty fried."

Harry looked over and spotted Lily Potter standing on her sister's porch. Wincing, he turned to Bellatrix. "You should probably hold off on this sort of entertainment for a while."

"Yeah, for at least a week," Bellatrix agreed.

"Maybe when their son gets home for the holidays we can get Draco to plant some Canary Creams over there," Harry mused.

"I've never heard of those," Bellatrix said.

Harry smiled. "A product of the Weasleys' joke shop—worth every knut. Shall we get going? Can we get out of here without Lily and Sirius noticing anything?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "It won't be a problem. The wards will shield any magical activity that stays in the house from detection."

"Well, let's get going, then," Harry said, grabbing the portkey from the coffee table.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry, Bellatrix, and Tom stood at the entrance of the cave as spray from the waves breaking on rocks dampened their robes and hair. The scenery of the water and cliffs was stunning, but Harry did not dare to let his mind wander as he pointed his wand at Tom, who was standing blank-faced between Harry and Bellatrix.

"Give him a wand, and tell him to check for alarm wards," Bellatrix told Harry.

Harry extracted one of his Wandel wands, handed it to Tom, and relayed the command via the Imperius enchantment.

Harry and Bellatrix watched as Tom performed a number of spells. As Tom performed the spells, Bellatrix pulled out a small notebook and took note of each spell the young Voldemort used.

"How many alarm or detection wards are there?" Bellatrix asked.

At Harry's urging, Tom answered. "Three."

"Are there any other wards of any type?" Bellatrix inquired.

"No."

Bellatrix nodded and began performing the same spells Tom had performed while Harry retrieved the Wandel wand. After about ten minutes had passed, Bellatrix seemed satisfied that she could see each aspect of the three wards, and she slowly began to dismantle them. Beginning to feel a little tired, Harry silently urged her to hurry up. After a good half hour had passed, Bellatrix let out a sigh of relief.

"Is it safe, now?" Harry asked.

"No, I only got one ward," Bellatrix said.

"Is it really that hard to take down a ward?" Harry asked, feeling somewhat grumpy from standing and holding the Imperius Curse active on Tom.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and conjured one of the rocks into a chair that looked like one from their dining room set. "It is far better to open a way past the ward while leaving it intact. Even if Tom, Sr. comes through here while we are in the cave, he will not detect that the cave has been compromised.

"That's a pretty good idea," Harry admitted, taking a seat.

"It was my idea, so obviously it was good," Bellatrix declared, going to work on the other two wards.

"Of course, dear."

"Fear not, Harry, the last two will go a lot quicker now that I understand how to do it." Bellatrix declared.

"Wait, you've never done it before?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling like they were on shakier ground.

"I have read about the process before," Bellatrix retorted.

"And that makes all the difference."

"Yes, it does." Bellatrix said smugly.

True to her word, Bellatrix was able to dispatch the last two wards quickly. Harry and Tom followed Bellatrix into the cave. It turned out to be a shallow cave, and they found themselves at a dead end well before the light from the setting sun had been blocked from their view.

"So much for that," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, the cave was warded," Bellatrix said. "There's more than meets the eye." She then began to perform the same batch of spells Tom had performed at the entrance and then moved onto several rounds of her own spells.

"At least we haven't wasted our time and energy," Harry muttered.

This time the process was much faster, and Bellatrix was able to reach a diagnosis quickly. "It is just a simple blood magic defense," Bellatrix finally declared.

Bellatrix reached into a bag tied to her belt and withdrew a small knife designed for blood magic purposes. She cut herself and sprinkled a small amount of blood on the rocks of the cave. Harry could feel the magic in the air as suddenly the cave's dead end disappeared and revealed a passageway that opened up into a large cavern.

Following the light provided by Bellatrix's wand, the trio proceeded toward the center of the cavern until they reached the shore of what seemed like a large, underground lake that sat in perfect tranquility in contrast to the raging ocean just barely out of earshot.

"Water," Bellatrix said slowly.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"This is not good."

"What does it mean?" Harry inquired, looking around quickly, but returning his attention to holding the Imperius Curse.

"It means an impossibly wide range of defenses and traps," Bellatrix explained, using her wand to conjure an orb of light.

Harry watched as she guided the orb of light out over the still water. Slowly, it moved over the surface of the water, illuminating its surroundings, but not piercing the blackness of the water. Eventually, the orb reached an island far out into the lake. Faintly, they could see on the island some sort of pillar or stand. Clearly, if Voldemort had hidden a horcrux here, that was where it would be. Still, though, Bellatrix urged the orb on past the island to reveal that the lake stretched beyond the island until it reached a wall just as sheer and impenetrable as the cliffs outside of the cave.

Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, Harry watched as Bellatrix guided the orb in a spiral over the lake, establishing that there was nothing on the lake or on perimeter except for the island. Then, she arced the orb of light and covered every square inch of the ceiling. Finally, Bellatrix gave her diagnosis. "The danger lies beneath the surface of the water, I should think."

"Well, transfigure one of these rocks into a rat toss it into the drink," Harry suggested.

Bellatrix smiled grimly as she cut the orb off from her wand's guidance, leaving it hovering about two hundred feet away from the shore of the underground lake. "I think a rat might be too negligible to trigger any defenses," she said before looking around and finding a very large rock. She screwed up her face in concentration and then with a certain amount of effort transfigured it into a cow.

As the cow mooed in panic, Bellatrix levitated it out toward the orb of light before dropping it into the lake. The reaction was swift—well over a hundred creatures surfaced from the lake and began attacking the cow mercilessly.

"Inferi," Harry observed grimly, still making sure that his focus was on maintaining the Imperius Curse.

"No, not Inferi," Bellatrix said. "Hundreds of Inferi. The Dark Lord must be awfully short on free time if this is his usual way of doing things. It is not as if making a single Inferius is quick process, let alone making hundreds."

"Well, he is defending his immortality," Harry said tiredly.

"He is doing an excellent job, too," Bellatrix declared, waving her wand and cancelling out the transfiguration spell. The cow transformed back into a rock and promptly sunk to the bottom of the lake. Confused, the Inferi followed, and soon, all was silent again.

"Any suggestions for our next step?" Harry asked, wondering if maybe they would just have to go home and think about it before returning again, ready to fight Inferi.

Bellatrix let out a sigh as she summoned the orb of light toward them. "To be safe, I think we shall have to drain the lake and burn the Inferi. As long as they are in there, I will not be able to detect any other defenses that might be in place, and as long as the water is there, we cannot know whether all the Inferi have been killed"

Harry winced. "That sounds like a lot of effort."

"I daresay we shall have to go home until we can recruit some people to help us put forth that effort," Bellatrix said. "Fortunately, I happen to know of some eager candidates."

~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix's BMW came to a screeching halt next to the sidewalk on which Narcissa Malfoy stood waiting. Bellatrix rolled down the window. "Get in," she instructed.

Clumsily, Narcissa stepped off the curb and fumbled with the door handle before figuring out how the Muggle contraption worked. She scrambled into the passenger seat of Bellatrix's car and pulled the door shut just in time for Bellatrix to let off the brakes and zoom down the road.

"Where is Draco?" Narcissa asked, clearly trying to sound tough all while on the emotional breaking point from having Bellatrix use her son as a bargaining chip and from having to endure the unfamiliar anxiety of being in a Muggle car as it sped dangerously down the road.

"He's at a small pub where you two can have lunch," Bellatrix answered. She reached back and down into her purse, which was sitting on the floor of the back seat. From the purse, she withdrew a small wad of Muggle cash. "You can use this to pay the tab, but make sure not to let Draco know that I provided the funds."

Narcissa accepted the cash with a frown. "What's the catch?"

Bellatrix smiled wickedly. "No catch. I promised Severus that I would arrange this meeting for you and Draco."

Depositing the cash into her purse, Narcissa continued frowning. "You are smiling. That means there is a catch somewhere. What do you want?"

"There is no hidden price for this meeting with your son," Bellatrix averred. "It is just that if you want to meet Draco another time, you will need to help me out."

"What do you want?" Narcissa asked, the dread clear in her voice.

Bellatrix smiled as she simultaneously hit the brakes for a traffic signal and flipped on the turn signal. "I need a list of all your Death Eater acquaintances."

"My Death Eater acquaintances?"

"Well . . . just any acquaintance you have with anybody," Bellatrix amended as the traffic signal turned and she sped through the intersection. "I was just assuming that you only associate with scum bags."

"It was not my choice," Narcissa defended. "The non-Death Eaters are not exactly willing to socialize with me."

"Yes, but who decided to marry a Death Eater?" Bellatrix asked. Not waiting for an answer, she continued. "I will set the time for your next meeting with Draco. Before that meeting, I will pick you up the same way I just did now. If you have a list of everybody you know, you will be able to see Draco. I will even cover the cost of your meal."

"How well do I have to know the people I put on the list?" Narcissa asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "Well enough that they would not find it amiss to receive a letter from you."

"What are you going to do?" Narcissa demanded.

"There is no need for you to worry about it," Bellatrix said sweetly, stomping on the brakes, causing the car to halt before a small pub. "Out you go, now. I will see you and your list next week or the week after. Just keep in mind, that if you do not have your list in time for the next opportunity to visit Draco, you will regret it sorely."

Narcissa exited the car, awkwardly pushing herself out of the seat and climbing onto the sidewalk where she stood in front of the pub looking defeated. Feeling slightly guilty, Bellatrix used her wand to summon the passenger side door shut before zooming away from where she had left her forlorn sister who was standing on a sidewalk contemplating her miserable life and trying to summon the courage to put on a good face for her son.

~!~!~!~!~!

Rose and Leo sat in the Gryffindor common room doing Divination homework on one of the tables while their friend Ginny sat cuddled in an armchair reading one of her charms textbooks.

"Your turn," Rose said to Leo.

Leo reached to a small box on the table from which he drew a small slip of parchment. He unfolded and read it. "I will be gored to death by a rabid, pink unicorn."

"Oh dear," Rose said.

"Indeed," Leo said gravely, using some glue to stick the slip of parchment to the square on his calendar reserved for the sixteenth of August.

"My turn," Rose said, grabbing a parchment from the box. "I will be diagnosed with testicular cancer."

"Do you really think Trelawney is going to buy that?" Ginny asked from behind her textbook, sounding exasperated.

"Do you have any idea how serious testicular cancer is?" Rose said somberly as she glued the piece of parchment to her own calendar. "It is more important to be forewarned than to rely on past experiences or preconceptions."

"The only reason that prediction exists is because Leo wrote it down and put it in that box!" Ginny pointed out.

"I know," Rose said. "That's part of the game. But, don't worry. There is a fifty percent chance that ovarian cancer is in his future. By the end of this, we could be even."

The conversation stalled when John Potter, Rose and Sidra's younger brother hurried down from his dorm and rushed across the room to where Rose and her friends sat. "Have you been in my trunk?" he demanded.

"Not lately, no," Rose said.

John shot Rose a dirty look before he made a beeline for where Sidra and her friends were sitting on the other side of the common room.

"I wonder what has got him all excited," Leo mused.

"Ron or Sidra probably had a scathingly brilliant idea and tested it out on him," Ginny said.

Further speculation was cut off when a Gryffindor student opened one of the windows to admit an owl. It promptly flew to Rose and Leo, dropped a small piece of parchment on their table, and flew back out the window.

"I love getting mail," Leo said, grabbing the note. Leo read the note silently, crumpled it up, and looked around furtively.

"What did it say?" Rose asked while Ginny set down her book.

"Harry is here—in the dungeons," Leo whispered.

"Let's go then," Rose said, swiftly packing up her schoolwork.

Leo and Ginny did likewise, and after a brief stop in the dorms to drop of their schoolbags, the trio was on their way down to the dungeons. After searching around for a bit, they found Harry Black waiting for them in one of the unused potions classrooms.

"I take it that you are physically present if you felt that it was necessary to hide in a secluded part of the castle," Rose observed.

"This place was not always secluded," Harry said offhandedly. "I taught potions in this classroom."

"I wonder why Snape changed classrooms," Ginny said.

Harry shrugged. "The one he uses now is probably more damp and chilly and thus fitting for his personality."

Leo snickered. "Was he that bad when he was a student?"

"Oh, I suppose," Harry replied absently as he nostalgically surveyed the room.

"So, are you here to hunt for the magical object that is hidden inside the castle?" Rose asked, sounding eager for the possibility to help locate the object.

Harry shook his head. "Not tonight. I think I will save that particular task for another day."

"Then, what is it you're here for?" Leo asked.

"Bellatrix and I have located another of these magical objects," Harry explained. "The thing is, it is located in the middle of an underground lake that happens to be infested with a few hundred Inferi."

"A few hundred Inerfi!" Ginny exclaimed, her face looking ashen.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "Bella and I feel that the best way to proceed is to drain the lake and burn the Inferi so we can check for any further defenses that the Dark Lord may have put in place around the magical object. It is a pretty simplistic plan, but we need a few extra wands. Bella mentioned that you might be willing to help from time to time. We wonder if now would be one of those times."

"We're definitely in," Leo declared.

"But," Rose said, "tonight is not a good night, or the night after, either."

"The weekend then?" Harry said.

"Yes, the weekend is good," Leo agreed. He looked over at Ginny. "You're coming, too, right?"

"Err, yes," Ginny said, sounding a little bit like she would prefer not to. She looked over at Harry. "Did your wife mention that I was very grateful for what you did at the Burrow?"

"It must have slipped her mind," Harry said. "I was glad to help."

"Okay," Rose said. "We need to make some plans if we're going to pull this off."

Harry looked at Rose queerly. "Bella is taking care of most the planning."

"I know," Rose said, "but I'm talking about us getting out of the castle."

"Oh," Harry said, "right. I actually know of some good ways. Leo is the only one of you that can Apparate, though, correct?"

"Correct," Leo said.

A severely annoyed expression suddenly appeared on Harry's face.

"We can use those Rubik's cube portkeys," Rose said, rushing to reassure him.

"I'm not worried about that," Harry whispered in a low voice.

"Why are you whispering?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

"For now, just whisper like I am doing," Harry directed. "I can give you several options for getting out of the castle. The worst-case scenario is that you will have to go into the Forbidden Forest. Bella will meet you and take you to the place from where we will launch our little adventure. We'll have portkeys for most of travelling. The same portkeys will also be our emergency exit in the event that things go bad."

"What about the trace?" Rose asked in a whisper.

"I have a lot of spare wands that you should be able to use. They're not very good, but they should be sufficient for what Bellatrix has in mind for you." Harry explained.

"Freeze!" someone shouted.

Rose, Leo, and Ginny whirled around to find that Ron, Sidra, and Hermione had crept into the room and were now pointing their wands at the group. "I said freeze," Ron bellowed again when he saw Leo and Ginny's hands twitching as if they might be contemplating resistance.

"Go suck on an egg," Ginny snapped back.

While Ron focused on Rose and her friends, Sidra had turned her attention to Harry. "Professor Ashworth," she said.

"The name is Harry Black," Harry said, his voice sounding wooden and disjointed. "Or, in more formal settings, perhaps Harry Ashworth Black. What is your name?"

"My name is Sidra Potter," Sidra said. "Mr. Black, I think that it is time you stop sneaking around with my sister and her little friends. I think that Professor Dumbledore will be quite interested to know about you being in the castle making dangerous plans with under-aged sixth years."

"Plotting with sixth-years usually works out for me," Harry said, still sounding unnatural. "As it is though, as much as I would like to visit with the Headmaster, it will not be tonight. And, you shall not be telling him that I was ever here."

"And why would we not tell him?" Ron smirked.

A gust of air suddenly ripped through the room. It threw Ron, Sidra, and Hermione to the ground, simultaneously ripping their wands out of their hands. The unnatural wind carried the wands to the doorway where Harry suddenly appeared, a wand in each hand. He caught the three wands he had seized from the teens with his left hand, and deposited his own wand and the three others into a pocket in his robe. "You will not tell Dumbledore anything because you have no choice in the matter," Harry said simply.

"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded, scrambling to get back to her feet as Rose and her friends looked on gleefully. "You can't Apparate within Hogwarts."

"I assure you, Ms. Granger, I did not apparate," Harry said, reaffirming Hermione's great faith in the Hogwarts apparition wards.

"What are you going to do to stop us from telling Dumbledore?" Sidra demanded, also rising to her feet.

"Either you take a magical oath or I cast a memory charm on you," Harry said.

Rose rolled her eyes. "You had better make it a memory charm."

"Shut up," Sidra hissed. "Naturally, we'll take the magical oath."

Rose and her friends looked on as Harry methodically gave Sidra, Hermione, and Ron their wands and administered the magical oaths which would make it impossible for Sidra and her friends to reveal or hint about anything they might know about Harry. Once the process was complete, Harry motioned toward the door while Rose, Leo, and Ginny held their wands on Sidra, Hermione and Ron.

"It was nice meeting you three," Harry said. "I have not yet completed my business with your friends, so if you would excuse us . . ."

"Mr. Black, you forget that we overheard quite a bit of what you were saying," Hermione said.

"Yeah, we can help fight You-Know-Who, too," Ron said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rose said dismissively. "You don't know anything about this."

"Oh, yeah? What do you happen to know that we don't?" Sidra questioned.

This seemed to cause Rose to hesitate. "Well . . . we already know what we are hunting."

"You are hunting a magical artifact that belongs to You-Know-Who," Hermione said. "Mr. Black has not even told you what it is." She glanced at Harry who was smiling. "Have you?"

Harry shook his head.

"We've worked with Harry and Bellatrix before," Rose retorted. "Leo, Ginny, and I are more experienced."

"Experienced? Really?" Sidra bit back. "We're a year older than any of you. You're just trying to hog the glory. It was the same thing with the Chamber of Secrets. You are more concerned about discovering the answer first than in actually helping the cause."

"I told everybody who would listen that the monster was dead," Rose said evenly. "But, none of you believed me. It's your own fault that I got to the bottom of the situation while you and everyone else were still scratching at walls."

"Well, here we are," Sidra said, her voice raised quite high. "We're offering to help, and you're trying to keep us out of it—glory hog!"

"Oh? You want to go there?" Rose yelled back.

"That will be enough," Harry said, using his wand to cast a silencing spell on both Sidra and Rose. He offered Sidra, Ron, and Hermione a small smile. "I will be glad to have you come along. Our task will require a fair number of wands. As for glory, you can count coup after the war is over. For now, what we do is necessarily secret. Furthermore, I cannot have any of you fighting with each other. If I detect that one of you is not cooperating, you will be going home alone well before the task is finished. Do you all understand that?"

Each of them nodded.

"Good," said Harry. He then described the secret passage out of the castle that led to the Honeydukes cellar and set a time to meet them there. "You must come alone. If you do not, Bellatrix will know it. If the passage to Honeydukes is blocked, go into the Forbidden Forest, but stay near the Hogwarts boundary. Either way, Bellatrix will find you."

"All right," said Leo, speaking for Rose, Ginny, and himself because Rose still was under the effects of the silencing charm. "We'll be ready."

"There's one last thing," Harry said. "Once our escapade begins, we have to move smoothly and quickly. Leo, I'm putting you in charge of Rose and Ginny. Hermione, I'm putting you in charge of Ron and Sidra. The both of you will answer to Bellatrix. She is the one in charge of engineering precisely what will happen that night."

"All right, Mr. Black," Hermione said. "Should we do some research on Inferi before then?"

Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry smiled. "That is a great idea, Hermione. You might even want to practice some spells ahead of time." With that, Harry lifted his wand and brought it down with a mighty swish. Flames exploded, and in an instant, both Harry and the flames were gone from the Hogwarts dungeons.

"He's quite powerful, isn't he!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Either that or a great showoff," Sidra muttered sullenly after Ron had removed the silencing charm Harry had cast on her.

36. Steals and Deals

A/N: Many thanks to those who review—especially those who hit me with the "update update" reviews.

Chapter 35: Steals and Deals

Lord Silvere

"I think it would best to leave the Hogwarts boundaries via the secret tunnel Harry told us about. Then we can Apparate away," Leo suggested to Rose, Ginny, Sidra, Ron, and Hermione as they all stood in an isolated corner of the Gryffindor common room.

In his hand, Leo clutched a crumpled note that Harry had sent to him via owl that morning. In it, the former Potions professor had informed Leo that he had realized that the addition of Sidra, Ron, and Hermione to the group obviated the necessity for Bellatrix to meet them and help double Apparate the group away from Hogwarts. He had further instructed Leo about where the students should meet Harry and Bellatrix.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just sneak out into the Forbidden Forest?" Ron said as he adjusted his wand holster, an accessory that he was not yet accustomed to wearing.

"Yes," Hermione admitted from where she stood next to Leo, "but I think it would draw less attention if we depart from within the castle."

Rose rolled her eyes. "It doesn't really matter. I practically have permission from Dumbledore to do this sort of thing."

"Then why don't we go talk to him about it?" Sidra suggested in the spirit of calling what she perceived to be a bluff on Rose's part.

Rose shrugged. "We could. But, he might not approve of you and your friends going."

That effectively silenced Sidra.

"If we are going to be on time, we should use the tunnel," Ginny pointed out.

"I think you're right," Leo said, glancing around to confirm that everyone was ready. "I guess the decision has been made. Let's go." With that, he made his way to portrait hole and exited the Gryffindor common room, followed by the rest of the group.

"I don't understand why Harry moved the time up to earlier in the evening. I thought this was going to be a dead of the night sort of thing," Ron muttered as they made their way to the hallway that held the statue, which served as the entrance to the secret passageway.

"Well, Ron, if you really want to know, ask Mr. Black when we see him," Hermione said waspishly.

"Maybe I will," Ron retorted.

They found the statue with little trouble, and were soon able to open up the entrance to the secret passageway. In short order, they had made their way down the dark corridor toward the candy shop. From there, they referred to Harry's note for Apparition directions. Leo and Ron volunteered to double Apparate Rose and Ginny, respectively. With a quick succession of pops, the group found themselves at a secluded bus stop just outside a smallish sort of city. Seated on a bench next to the bus stop sign were three people. The students immediately recognized Bellatrix and Harry, but the third, a young wizard, was unfamiliar.

"It looks like you have successfully made it," Bellatrix said dryly.

"I hope you were not overly concerned." Sidra said, her voice sounding a little too sweet.

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at the oldest Potter child before standing, drawing two wands from her right sleeve, and handing one wand each to Rose and Ginny. "Those will allow you to avoid the trace," she informed them.

"Where did you get these wands?" Rose asked, examining the one Bellatrix had given her.

"From a wand shop that deservedly went out of business," Bellatrix said before moving on. "We are going to ride the Muggle bus through the town and then out a bit into the country. We will then approach our target on foot. We will do this to prevent anybody or anything from detecting the magic we would be using to travel and so that I can watch for any wards that may have been put up since we last visited. Seeing that we will be riding the Muggle bus, you might consider employing some minor illusion charms to help fit in better."

The students commenced doing as Bellatrix had directed. Hermione, who had finished first, eyed Harry and the strange wizard, both of whom had remained on the bench, silent. "Who is that wizard?"

"It's better if you don't know," Bellatrix said.

Hermione frowned at Bellatrix and then looked back at Harry and the wizard, studying the pair intently. Noting the dazed look in the anonymous wizard's eyes and the wand in Harry's hand, Hermione frowned. "Is he under the Imperius Curse?"

"Yes," Bellatrix admitted.

"That's highly illegal," Hermione hissed.

"Welcome to the war," Bellatrix said. "If it makes you feel any better, our anonymous wizard deserves far worse than he is getting." With that said, Bellatrix refocused her attention on the entire group. "Once the bus drops us off, we will move efficiently, but not necessarily swiftly. At all costs, we do not want to draw attention. Do not use magic unless I tell you to."

"Is there a chance of us running into Death Eaters?" Ron asked, sounding almost eager.

"Probably not," Bellatrix said. "But, we will want to be careful. I do not want any of the locals particularly remembering us. Once we reach our destination and once I have ascertained that it is safe for us to proceed, we will have two goals: first, we will want to avoid notice of those who might be using magic to watch from afar; second, we will want to finish what we are doing as quickly and efficiently as possible."

"Right," Hermione said, nodding in a show of support.

Bellatrix then produced two Rubik's cubes, handing one to Hermione and one to Leo. "If anything bad happens, you need to flee immediately. The activation word is 'trouble.' You two are responsible for your friends. Harry and I will fend for ourselves. As we travel, I will lead and be with Hermione and her two friends. Harry and our anonymous guest will travel in the middle. Leo and his friends will follow behind. Understand?"

~!~!~!~!~!

The bus had dropped the group off at an edge of the road a ways on the other side of town, and Bellatrix had then proceeded to lead the group off the road and through the wild growth, but not before taking Leo aside for a moment and having a word with him. The smell of the sea permeated the air, and from the noise of waves against rock in the darkness, Rose was confident that they were approaching a cliff.

Bellatrix, Hermione, Ron, and Sidra were quite far ahead of the group, setting a brisk pace that Harry and the anonymous wizard were not matching. Leo, Rose, and Ginny were following Harry and the anonymous wizard at a short distance. For the teens making up the rearguard, their little journey felt particularly eerie, particularly with Harry's disconcerting silence. Rose wished that somebody would say something.

"What did Bellatrix want to talk to you about back there?" Rose whispered, quietly enough that Ginny would not be able to ascertain the gist of the conversation.

"She wanted to know if I can cast the Killing Curse," Leo whispered back.

"What?" Rose exclaimed, nearly forgetting to whisper. "What for?" she asked, making sure to keep her whisper low.

"She said that if Harry so much as stumbles, I need to incapacitate or kill that other wizard," Leo informed Rose quietly.

"Who is he?" Rose asked, shocked and now realizing why Bellatrix had arranged for a rearguard.

"Probably a Death Eater of some sort," Leo muttered.

Apprehensively, Leo watched each step Harry made across the uneven ground while Rose frowned at the back of the mysterious wizard. They made progress slowly, and by the time they reached the edge of a seaside cliff, Bellatrix and the vanguard had been there for some time.

"I've done both general and specific detection spells," Bellatrix said, apparently speaking to Harry. "There's nothing, but it would be good if our friend did some checking."

"Right," Harry said in a rather low voice.

The teens watched as Harry withdrew a wand from a pocket with his free hand and handed it to the mysterious wizard. Slowly but surely, the wizard began casting numerous charms as everyone watched with bated breath—particularly Rose who suspected that the wizard would try to kill them if Harry lost control.

"Coast is clear," Harry said after he had reclaimed the wand from his prisoner and pocketed it again.

Bellatrix nodded. She withdrew what seemed to be a piece of cloth from within her robes and laid it on the ground. An enlarging spell revealed that it was actually a Persian rug. "All aboard," she said quietly.

"Wicked!" Ron and Leo exclaimed as they stepped on the rug.

"What is it?" Sidra questioned.

"Flying carpet," Hermione responded quietly, glancing nervously at Bellatrix. "It's slightly illegal."

Bellatrix ignored Hermione, and as soon as everyone was standing, she poked her wand at the carpet, which promptly floated into the air.

~!~!~!~!~

Leo gaped as a tidal wave of water gushed toward the entrance of the large cavern into which Bellatrix had led the group. With a roar, the water splashed with terrific force up against the wall of the cavern, much of it pouring out the entrance to the cave and into the ocean outside, some of it splashing back onto the shore where it trickled back into the cavern's lake. Once the water had drained back into the lake, Leo could see that the tidal wave had left about a dozen Inferi on the cavern lake's shore.

He could hear Hermione shrilly yelling for Ron and Sidra to incinerate the dark creatures, which were still slightly stunned from having been slapped against the cavern wall by the wave and left on the shore. Fire exploded on the sand, and the rancid smell of burning flesh ascended to the cavern's ceiling where several of Bellatrix's magical light orbs floated.

In short order, the Inferi that had washed up on the shore were nothing but smoldering heaps of ash. Hermione darted forward to confirm this. Then as she jogged back to where Ron and Sidra were standing, she gestured to Bellatrix.

"Again," Bellatrix called to Rose and Ginny.

Rose glanced at both Leo and Bellatrix resentfully before she and Ginny pointed their wands at the lake's surface where they cast charms that caused the water to begin to swirl until there were two whirlpools stirring in the lake. Gritting their teeth, the two witches held the spell until Bellatrix jabbed her wand at the swirling water and with a sweep of her arm sent another violent tidal wave toward the cavern's entrance.

Soon, Leo could hear Hermione calling for Ron and Sidra to cast incendiary charms. Leo made eye contact with Rose and shrugged sympathetically, before looking back to where Harry and the mysterious wizard had sat, well out of the way of the splashing water and burning Inferi. Upon arriving in the cave, Bellatrix had appointed him Harry's bodyguard with the same orders as when they had hiked to the cliff—kill or incapacitate the anonymous wizard if anything were to go amiss.

Satisfied that Leo was looking after Harry and the other wizard, Bellatrix had then assumed direct command of Rose and Ginny, while allowing Hermione to remain in charge of her friends and assume responsibility for the burning of all the Inferi.

By all accounts, it appeared that Leo had gotten off easy. Moving the water appeared to be exhausting for Rose and Ginny. As for Hermione, Ron, and Sidra, while burning Inferi did not require quite as much magical energy, they still had to deal with the stench the burning.

Leo felt that maybe it should not be this easy. "Is everything all right?" he asked Harry quietly as Leo listened to Bellatrix direct Rose and Ginny to begin the next tidal wave.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said.

"Okay, then," Leo said, glancing suspiciously at the mysterious wizard and then glancing back to watch another round of burnings.

"Why don't you open that satchel, there," Harry said after several more wave and fire cycles. "There's some sandwiches and butterbeer."

Eager to be helpful, Leo grabbed the satchel and found that someone had enlarged the inside and filled it with over a dozen sandwiches and two dozen butterbeer bottles. "Shall I open a bottle for you, or unwrap a sandwich?" Leo asked.

"Both, please," Harry said, still pointing his wand at the prisoner.

Leo did as requested, handing the sandwich to Harry who accepted it with his free hand. "I'll just put the butterbeer here where you can reach it," he said.

"Good enough," Harry said.

Leo watched intently as Harry ate his sandwich and sipped his drink with one hand. During the entire time, the mysterious wizard sat with a dazed look in his eyes, not moving at all. After the refreshment, Harry looked quite invigorated.

"Is it all right if I go give some to Rose and Ginny?" Leo asked.

"Go for it," Harry said, focused on the prisoner.

Leo grabbed the satchel and picked his way through the rocks of the cavern to where Ginny was standing. "Here," he said, handing a sandwich and bottle to her.

"Thanks," Ginny sighed, popping the top off and taking a sip. She finished her sip and put the bottle down on the ground just as Bellatrix called for another tidal wave.

Leo then made his way over to Rose where he distributed a sandwich and butterbeer. "Looks like you need this," he observed as soon as the next tidal wave smacked against the wall.

Rose put the bottle on the ground, but unwrapped the sandwich. "These wands are horrible and the whirlpool spell is difficult!" she complained. "How did you get so lucky?"

"I don't know," Leo shrugged. "Maybe Bellatrix wants her husband to have a friend," he said, grinning. Deep down, he suspected that Bellatrix was not overly fond of Rose or alternatively, just did not trust him. "I'd better get going," he said. "Bellatrix is giving me a disapproving look."

Rose sighed as Bellatrix called for another tidal wave.

The wave crashed against the wall just as he reached Bellatrix with the satchel. "Refreshments?" he offered.

"Maybe later," Bellatrix said, only half-paying attention to him. "Check on Harry."

Leo scrambled back toward Harry's position and discovered that all was still well. Sitting down so that he could keep everyone in view, he let out a sigh.

"Bella has great confidence in you," Harry said, motioning toward the satchel to signal that he wanted another butterbeer.

Leo fetched another butterbeer for Harry and one for himself, as well as a sandwich. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't know enough about me to even begin formulating an opinion."

"You're a Black, though," Harry said slowly, clearly not completely devoted to the conversation, for he continued to maintain his wand's aim on the mysterious wizard. "Bella is biased in favor of most Blacks."

"How did you become a Black?" Leo asked as he unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.

"I married Bella, of course," Harry said woodenly, taking a swig from the bottle of butterbeer.

"I mean, how did you become Lord Black? If I have my history right, you were Lord Black while you were still an Ashworth."

"Adoption, to put it shortly," Harry said.

"Old Orion must have had a lot of faith in you," Leo said.

"Something like that," Harry said distractedly.

Silence set in between Harry and Leo as Leo intently observed the rest of their group drain the lake and burn the Inferi. Bellatrix and her helpers had made significant progress. Although there was still water in the lake, the small island in the center of the cavern now stood as if it was a mountain in the middle of the lake.

"I've always felt a little guilty for preventing your father from becoming Lord Black," Harry said suddenly, sounding sincere, despite focusing on his prisoner and declining to make eye contact with Leo. "It wasn't something I sought out. I will take care of your father's family and your family as best I can. Don't tell your father to quit his day job, though."

"That's very nice of you," Leo said. "I noticed that you didn't take possession of Grimmauld Place and that you share Kreacher with our family."

"It isn't much of a sacrifice for me," Harry admitted. "I loathe Grimmauld Place and am not overly fond of Kreacher."

"You and my father would probably get along," Leo said.

"I'll probably end up burning through a lot of the Black gold during the war," Harry mused, still intently focused on the prisoner and thus making the conversation seem one-sided even though it was not. "Or Bella will, anyhow. And, if I survive the war, I'm afraid the Lord Black title stays with me, so your father will probably never inherit it. You might inherit, though. I'm not so sure that Bella will want children."

"I'd really rather not be Lord Black," Leo said.

"I wouldn't mind," Harry said quietly. "I consider you family; I consider everyone here family."

"Everyone here?" Leo asked, looking queerly at Harry.

Harry got no chance to respond, for an awful roaring noise had suddenly erupted from the bottom of the lake in response to the latest tidal wave.

Leo jumped with surprise.

"Bloody hell!" Ron's voice echoed through the cavern.

Cursing, Harry shot the prisoner with a stunner, twice, before jumping up and making his way to the edge of the lake where Bellatrix stood, peering down into the depths of the nearly empty lake. Leo followed Harry, sparing a glance behind to confirm that the prisoner was still stunned. Just as Leo arrived at the edge, a burst of flame erupted from the pit. The flame hit and spread across an invisible shield that Bellatrix had had the presence of mind to cast.

"What is it?" Leo demanded. "What's going on?"

"Apparently, when the Dark Lord went to the cemetery for his Inferi, he found the tomb of a dragon," Bellatrix said, sounding rather irate.

Squinting in the poor light, Leo could see that there was indeed an undead dragon crawling around in the shallow water and snorting flame.

"Can't you burn it?" Rose asked, as she ran up to Bellatrix, Harry, and Leo.

"No, the hide is impervious to flame," Hermione said informatively as she, Ron, and Sidra joined the rest of them.

"The fact that it is shooting fire at us is fairly indicative that fire isn't going to be much of a weapon for us," Bellatrix said, glaring at the dragon as if it were some sort of personal insult. She pointed to Hermione and Leo. "You two—start shooting cutting hexes at its wings. The rest of you should probably develop your shielding skills. Harry and I will discuss our options."

Leo nodded, grateful to have finally been given a useful job. He swished his wand and let fly a powerful cutting hex, but it missed. Wincing, he followed Hermione's example and took more careful aim, but at the expense of power. His hex hit the undead dragon's left wing and made a small rip on the edge. This small injury incensed the dragon, and it howled, shooting flame toward them as it began to move more erratically and flap its wings as it awkwardly tried to get in the air.

"I think that we should just try to get as many cutting hexes as we can and then hope one hits," Hermione yelled over the noise. "Its wings are big enough that our odds are pretty good."

This tactic proved effective. Soon, Harry and Bellatrix returned. "We'll try to melt the stone beneath it," Bellatrix informed the teens. She taught them a heat spell while Leo and Hermione continued to shoot cutting hexes, which were having the desired effect of destroying the dragon's chances of flying up at them.

Everyone but Harry, Hermione, and Leo began shooting heat spells aimed to hit the rock bottom of the lake. At first, it did not seem like much was happening, but eventually, the water remaining in the lake began to steam and then to boil.

Bellatrix then decided that the dragon's wings were in bad enough condition that Hermione and Leo could join in the heat spell casting. This they did, and after each person excepting for Harry had cast the heat spell several dozen times, Bellatrix called a halt, her voice echoing through the hot steam that had risen from boiling the lake.

"It's Harry's turn," Bellatrix announced, sounding rather exhausted.

Everyone else was exhausted as well, so they backed away from the lake and slumped into sitting positions on the various rocks. Leo, however, opted to step forward and watch Harry.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then let loose with a different sort of spell—it seemed rather like he was shooting pure magical energy down into the stone beneath the undead dragon. A beam of white, hot magical light arced between Harry's wand and the stone. Harry gasped and clenched his teeth as he continued the connection. Through the steam, Leo watched with surprise as the rock began to turn red.

As it scurried about on the lake floor, the dragon howled and shot a burst of flame upward, but it came nowhere close to hitting Harry or anyone else. The power continued arcing between Harry's wand and the floor until the floor began to bubble. Slowly, the dragon began to sink into the stone as if it was quicksand.

When its feet were completely covered, Harry gasped and ended the spell. He surveyed the dragon, stuck by its feet and still roaring fiercely. "More heating spells, directly beneath the dragon," he panted.

At Bellatrix's signal, the others resumed shooting heating spells, but limited them only to where the dragon had become stuck. Leo was disappointed to observe that their heating spells were only maintaining the heat Harry had put into the floor. The dragon sunk no further. After Harry had enjoyed a quick breather, everyone ceased the heating spells and let him try again. The magic arced between Harry's wand and the stone and the dragon sank deeper into the floor. They repeated this process twice more, and finally, the entire undead dragon was imprisoned in the stone.

Exhausted, everybody slumped to the flood, breathing hard.

"Did I see you passing out sandwiches?" Ron asked Leo.

~!~!~!~!~

Some way or another, Hermione earned the signal honor of accompanying Bellatrix on the magic carpet across the empty lake to the island that now towered over the lake bed. Stepping from the magic carpet onto the island, they discovered a basin filled with some sort of liquid. Next to the basin was a cup with which one might drink the contents of the basin.

"It's like an elaborate drinking fountain," Hermione observed, "perhaps modeled after some sort of depiction of the fountain of youth."

"You may be more right than you know," Bellatrix commented tiredly as she eyed the basin suspiciously.

Hermione frowned and watched in the dim light of the magical floating orbs as Bellatrix walked around the basin and examined it from every angle. Finally, she pronounced her assessment. "The magical object we seek is at the bottom of the basin—beneath this potion. Fishing it out will likely prove to be impossible or costly."

"Perhaps the cup can be used to drain it?" Hermione said, voicing the next logical thought.

"I suspect it won't be so easy," Bellatrix said, taking up the cup, dipping it into the basin, and then taking the cup over toward the edge of the island. Before she got there, she stopped. "The potion is gone. We won't be able to pour it over the side."

Hermione nodded, having already suspected as much. "I think the only way we get to the bottom of the basin is if somebody drinks the potion," she told Bellatrix.

"I agree," Bellatrix said.

"But what will the potion do to whoever drinks it?" Hermione mused. "It must be some sort of poison or tranquilizer."

Bellatrix regarded Hermione from behind hooded eyes. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, why put the Inferi under the water?" Hermione said. "I almost wonder if the Inferi were placed there to trap people on the island."

"You may be correct," Bellatrix admitted. "Even if somebody flew to the island, the potion might lead them to try to take a drink of the water."

"Right," Hermione said. "We have been forewarned and have already dealt with the Inferi. So, I think we'll be safe. We just need to figure out who should drink the potion . . . unless it is likely to kill whoever drinks it."

Bellatrix smiled. "We happen to have an excellent potion-drinking candidate with us tonight." She stepped over to the edge of the island. "Bring our anonymous friend over here!" she called loudly.

~!~!~!~!~

"Mr. Black, your wife wants your anonymous wizard to join her and Hermione on the island," Sidra informed Harry, who was leaning against a rock and holding his head in his hands.

Harry moaned and did not respond immediately.

"Should we use an enervate?" Leo asked.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Harry replied. "I need to get him back under the Imperius Curse."

Noting that Rose, Sidra, and Ron, looked hesitant about what Harry had said, Leo pushed the exchange forward. "Right. Maybe one of us revives him while the rest of us are ready to stun him, and then you cast the Imperius?"

"Good enough," Harry said, standing up and clutching his wand.

Leo assumed the role of enervating the mysterious wizard while the rest of the teens watched apprehensively with their wands pointed at the wizard. As soon as the wizard regained consciousness, Harry cast the Imperius Curse. The wizard stood and made his way to the edge of the lake with everyone following. The magic carpet floated back from the island to the edge of the lake.

"Let's have only Leo, Harry, and the anonymous wizard come over," Hermione shouted across the empty lake. "There isn't a whole lot of room on this island."

Dutifully, Leo followed Harry and the wizard onto the carpet, which then promptly floated back while Rose, Sidra, Ron, and Ginny watched, squinting in an attempt to see what was happening on the island. The carpet arrived at the island, and its passengers disembarked.

"There's plenty of room on here for everyone to have come over," Leo muttered to Hermione, taking in the island and looking at her suspiciously.

"I know," Hermione admitted, "but this isn't going to be pretty."

Leo's gaze darted to Bellatrix, Harry, and the anonymous wizard. "What is she going to do to him?"

"Force him to drink the potion in the basin," Hermione whispered. She gestured for Leo to move closer to the basin with her.

"Ms. Black?" Hermione asked.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked as she waited for Harry to guide the wizard into a position next to the basin.

"I just want to be reassured that we're doing the right thing," Hermione said, sounding rather fearful.

Bellatrix shrugged. "Suffice it to say that if the Dark Lord is to be stopped, we must retrieve whatever this basin is hiding. As for our anonymous friend, rest assured that he is a murderer and in a certain sort of sense, responsible for this basin's existence. Ironically, he has been and will continue to help us clean up this mess—assuming the potion doesn't kill him"

"And if it does kill him?" Hermione asked.

"Then he becomes yet another casualty of the war," Bellatrix said, beginning to sound impatient.

"He's not some innocent victim," Harry piped in, gesturing to Bellatrix that he was ready.

For one reason or another, Harry's words proved extremely reassuring to Hermione, and she nodded. Bellatrix moved to pick up the cup they had found next to the basin, but Hermione stepped up and grabbed it. "I'll do it," she said somewhat shakily to Bellatrix. "It might be better if you were free to cope with any trouble that might arise."

"A practical suggestion," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand, and glancing around the island. "Begin."

"Just hold it up to his lips, and I'll get him to drink it," Harry instructed Hermione as Bellatrix and Leo paced back and forth, glancing outward to the cavern walls and back at the mysterious wizard.

Hermione nodded, and dipped the cup into the basin, bringing it out full of the potion. She held it up to the wizard's lips and he began drinking it. It had an immediate effect, and when Hermione brought up the second cup, not even the Imperius Curse could disguise the wizard's aversion to the potion. However, he had no choice and drank down the second cup. Its effect began to render him weak, and by the fourth cup, Harry had been compelled to signal Leo that he needed help holding the wizard upright while he kept his wand trained on the wizard.

Eventually, the bottom of the basin appeared, and as the last cup washed down the throat of the anonymous wizard, a locket appeared in the basin.

"And Bob's your uncle," Leo muttered, staring at the locket.

"Excellent," Bellatrix said as Harry shot the wizard with a stunner and eased him to the ground with Leo's help.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione asked, setting down the cup.

"I'll let you know in the morning," Bellatrix said drily as she removed the locket from the basin and eyed it closely.

"Is it what we're looking for?" Harry asked, sounding utterly miserable from exhaustion.

"It has the right aura," Bellatrix declared as she cast a fire torch spell with her wand. A short and narrow, yet powerful white flame lighted at the end of her wand. Holding the locket by its chain, Bellatrix exposed the body of the locket to the torch flame coming from her wand. After several minutes, the flame had had not effect on the locket. "This is what we're looking for," Bellatrix said conclusively.

Harry, Hermione, and Leo let out breaths they did not even know they had been holding.

Harry smiled weakly at Leo and Hermione. "You and your friends have just helped deal Voldemort a very grievous blow. If we can get this to a safe place without having to destroy it immediately, we will have gained an important strategic advantage"

"So what is it that makes this so special?" Hermione asked.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that explanation," Bellatrix cut in as she pocketed the locket and gestured toward where the magic carpet was waiting for them. They all boarded the carpet and made their way back to the shore where everyone else was waiting for them.

"We have what we came for," Bellatrix announced. "We need to set Muggle explosives at the entrance of the cave so that we can open a way for the ocean to come into the cave and bury everything underwater. If we do it right, the Dark Lord won't realize that anybody has been here until he finds a way into the cavern."

The hardest part of setting the explosives involved drilling down into the rock beneath the passage into the cave, but that only took Ron and Sidra a minute or two for each hole. Bellatrix then deposited a fair amount of explosive in each hole before they loaded the unconscious wizard and themselves onto the magic carpet, which floated them out of the cave and into the night air.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Bellatrix said, smirking at Rose.

Impassively, Rose accepted the detonator and pressed the button. In the dark, they could barely see the water below or the cliff, but they all heard a dull thud and then the rush of water as it gushed into the cavern.

"I hope none of you left behind anything important," Bellatrix said as she gestured with her wand, directing the carpet to soar out over the ocean where they would be able to apparate away without leaving an accessible trace of their presence.

~!~!~!~!~

Several hours after the house elves had served breakfast the next morning, and after the students had dispersed to pursue their weekend amusements, Hermione and Rose made their way up to Professor Dumbledore's office. They gave the password to the statute standing guard at the entrance and climbed the moving staircase.

"Enter!" Professor Dumbledore called in response to their knock. When they entered, the headmaster smiled at them benignly. "What brings you two up here, today?"

"Bellatrix took us on an excursion last night," Rose informed him as she helped herself to a chair.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, looking askance at Hermione who had followed Rose's lead in taking a seat. "How is that she was convinced to take Miss Granger along with you?"

"Sidra, Ron, and Hermione found out about our plans," Rose said. "Bellatrix ended up inviting them to go along after they swore all the appropriate secrecy oaths."

"Including one about not revealing anything you might learn about Harry Ashworth, I assume," Dumbledore said, looking at Hermione.

"That topic is indeed included in the oath," Hermione confirmed.

Dumbledore looked rather disappointed in this news, but his eyes continued to twinkle. "May I ask what you, Bellatrix, and your friends were doing?"

"We raided a cave, burned a few hundred Inferi, and drained a lake. Bellatrix and Hermione did some other stuff on their own, but the net result is that Bellatrix has captured another of the magical objects for which she has been searching."

"Well done," Dumbledore said, sounding extremely happy. "Please tell me more about what happened."

They quickly recounted the events of the night, carefully omitting any part that had anything to do with Harry, though they did mention the mysterious prisoner and the fact that he had been acting under an Imperius Curse.

Surprisingly, Dumbledore moved past the Imperius Curse and Hermione forcing the prisoner to drink the potion to focus on the interactions between Bellatrix and Hermione. "So, you are saying that Mrs. Black actually treated you as a peer as she contemplated this basin?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted.

"She put Hermione in charge of burning the Inferi, too," Rose offered.

"How extraordinary," Dumbledore said. "Have you heard whether this prisoner survived the effects of the potion?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, feeling slightly guilty for that part of the escapade. "She did say that he was a murderer. He got stunned immediately after drinking the potion. For all we know, he was okay before we even left the cave."

"Is there any chance that this mysterious wizard was Peter Pettigrew, or perhaps a Malfoy?" Dumbledore inquired.

"No," Rose said. "I did not recognize him at all. He had dark hair, and was quite handsome, though."

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly, looking quite concerned. "You two have done well. I still have questions about this mysterious wizard that Mrs. Black seems to be holding prisoner, but I do want you to know that your actions last night represent astounding progress against Lord Voldemort. You would rise to the top of his target list if he had any idea about your actions last night, so I would suggest that you not advertise."

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Very well, then, I'm sure you have better things to do on a weekend than chat with me," Dumbledore said, smiling at them over his spectacles.

The girls rose from their chairs and made their way to the exit.

"Oh," Dumbledore said, "and fifty points to Gryffindor—for worthwhile rule breaking."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Amelia Bones totaled the sums on her numerical Death Eater attack analysis report and signed the bottom line with a flourish. She stood up, stretched, and then carried the report out of her office. Down the hall a ways, she found one of the department secretaries. "Get this sent in, would you?" Amelia said.

"Yes, ma'am," the secretary said briskly, accepting the report and putting it in one of the document trays on the desk.

Amelia returned to her office, where she quickly scanned some of the interoffice memos that had come in while she was finishing the report. Satisfied that there was nothing urgent, she grabbed her purse, exited her office, and wove her way through the Auror department until she arrived at the elevator bay.

As an unusually long wait for the elevator progressed, James Potter and Sirius Black joined Amelia in front of the elevator doors. "Captain Bones," both James and Sirius said simultaneously, hiding mocking grins with stiff voices.

"Special Aurors Potter and Black," Amelia said with a straight face.

"Everything is well, I trust," Sirius said, also very formally.

"There are no Death Eaters storming the front doors, so that bodes well," Amelia said.

"Aye," James said, affecting an Irish accent.

Amelia rolled her eyes as the elevator clanged, opening to reveal an Auror returning from an early lunch.

"Mr. Crouch," Sirius said, still using his overly formal tone of voice.

Barty Crouch, Jr. smirked at James, Sirius, and Amelia, offering them a mock salute as he exited the elevator. James, Sirius, and Amelia stepped on the elevator and watched Auror Crouch's retreating back as the door shut and began its perilous journey to the Atrium.

"Working on anything interesting?" Amelia asked casually.

"Never a dull moment," James said. "But top secret, too."

"Indeed," Amelia said. "How are you families?"

"Doing great," James responded. "My children are excited for the upcoming summer holiday."

"Leo is the same," Sirius offered.

"So is my niece," Amelia said as the elevator arrived at its destination. "I'll see you later, I suppose."

"Right," Sirius said as he and James split from her and went their own way.

Amelia then proceeded to the massive fireplaces that served as an entrance of sorts for the Ministry. A little bit of Floo powder sent her the Leaky Cauldron. From there, she exited the famous pub onto the Muggle street and found a restaurant a few streets down—within easy walking distance. She stepped in and approached the host. "Reservation for Johnson," she said.

"Your party has already arrived," the host informed Amelia, leading her through the restaurant and into a dark corner where he seated her at a table with Bellatrix Black.

"My, my," Amelia said by way of greeting, "I never thought I'd see the day where a scion of the Noble House of Black condescended to having lunch in a Muggle restaurant."

"I could say the same of the Bones family," Bellatrix parried, picking her menu and glancing at it only long enough to check what the daily special was. "After all, you are more like the Blacks than say . . . the Weasleys."

"Yes, the Weasleys," Amelia said, also picking up her menu, but perusing it carefully. "You were over to their house quite recently, weren't you?"

"They asked me to do some security consulting," Bellatrix admitted.

Amelia peered at Bellatrix over the top of her menu. "I think the Ministry might be able to use your sort of security consulting on a regular basis."

"I'm not seeking employment," Bellatrix said, placing the menu back on the table.

"I suppose you have all the gold you need," Amelia admitted, making her selection and placing her menu atop Bellatrix's discarded menu. "But I know that there are some things that you wouldn't mind acquiring, and I know that there are people who could provide those things in exchange for some . . . effective, positive results."

"You're becoming a little too vague for me to follow," Bellatrix said just as the server arrived to take their orders.

As soon as the server left, Amelia pushed on. "I think that you wouldn't mind having some political influence."

"Influence might tempt me," Bellatrix said, effectively informing Amelia in not so many words that she wanted something more than just influence—power, for instance.

"Well, consider this," Amelia said. "If the ghost of your dear, departed husband were to become more persistent and regular in its efforts to terrorize Death Eaters, it might become quite a symbol for our society."

"And what am I going to do?" Bellatrix asked. "Collect royalties in exchange for command performances?"

"Well," Amelia said, "consider this. If the ghost of Harry Ashworth were to become a staple in this war, an effective one, mind you, anything connected to it could become quite famous. You, for instance, as the widow of this ghost would be thrust in the spotlight. You could emphasize that you are the daughter of the late Minister Black, who had the foresight to prepare the Ministry for these dark times before his tragic assassination. If there were to be an opening on the Wizengamot, you could use your family title to claim a seat."

Bellatrix smiled. "That sounds like a pretty good theory."

"Alternatively, if it turns out that your husband is alive, he could claim a seat on the Wizengamot," Amelia continued.

"If he is alive," Bellatrix said.

"Of course," Amelia said, not particularly interested in trying to pin Bellatrix down on whether her husband was alive or not.

"The thought occurs to me that it would take more than a single vote from a Bones to get the House of Black instated onto the Wizengamot," Bellatrix said.

"The Bones family still has influence and plenty of friends," Amelia said. "So, do you think the ghost of your dearly departed might be motivated to make more strikes against Death Eaters?"

Bellatrix shrugged noncommittally. "The ghost of my dearly departed does have trouble finding just the right opportunity to make an appearance. It is not that he does not want to make an appearance, mind you. It is just that it does take a certain amount of effort for him to find an opportunity.

"And what if somebody were to take the time to arrange a way to ensure that opportunities are more easily found?" Amelia asked.

Bellatrix did not answer immediately, but Amelia was patient as she watched Bellatrix take a sip from her glass of ice water while looking at Amelia intently. This went on for nearly a minute before Amelia realized that Bellatrix was looking at something behind her. With reflexes born of her Auror training, Amelia spun around in her seat just in time to watch the ghostly form of a man fade away. She turned to look back at Bellatrix, who was now smirking at her.

"I think I might be able to persuade the ghost of my dearly departed to take advantage of this opportunity," Bellatrix announced.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Madam Pince approached Hermione in the library. "Professor Dumbledore has requested that you meet with him," she informed Hermione.

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said, confused that Madam Pince was delivering messages on the headmaster's behalf. Wondering what it was Dumbledore wanted, Hermione finished a notation before packing up her books and leaving the library books to be re-shelved.

In short order, she found herself sitting across from Professor Dumbledore and accepting a lemon drop. "What can I do for you, Headmaster?" she asked.

"I wanted to speak with you more about Bellatrix Black," the headmaster answered. "I've wanted to do so since hearing the report on your excursion, but felt that it would be unwise to say what I need to say in front of Miss Potter."

"You don't trust her?" Hermione asked, feeling very confused. After all, the headmaster had given Rose permission to leave the castle and gallivant around the countryside with Bellatrix at will, if Rose was to be believed.

"It isn't that I don't trust her," Professor Dumbledore said. "The information I am about to share with you is very sensitive and dangerous to possess. The only reason I am willing to share it with you is that Mrs. Black's recent behavior toward you suggests that she may be willing to confide with you in the future, or at least seek your opinion."

"All right," Hermione said, still confused.

"Have you wondered what it was that you and your friends helped Mrs. Black retrieve from that cavern?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted. "I mean, how could a magical object be so important to You-Know-Who that one could justify such extreme measures to capture it."

"The locket you found in that cave was a horcrux," Dumbledore announced. "In it, Lord Voldemort has placed a portion of his actual soul. So long as the horcrux exists, Lord Voldemort cannot die."

"Oh my word," Hermione breathed.

"If we are to believe what Bellatrix wants us to believe, Harry Ashworth Black died in an attempt to capture one of these horcruxes back in the year 1976. Mrs. Black claims that that particular horcrux was destroyed in the fight that ensued between her, her husband and Lord Voldemort. Since appearing in recent months, Bellatrix has captured two more of these horcruxes," Dumbledore explained.

Hermione frowned. "Is Bellatrix taking steps to destroy these horcruxes?"

"I fear not," Dumbledore said.

"Why isn't she destroying them?" Hermione asked.

"Mrs. Black seems to think that she can exploit the horcruxes somehow."

"And what do you want me to do?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I would appreciate it if you were to do extensive research on the subject of horcruxes and related magic. If Bellatrix avails herself of the opportunity to bring you in on anything she is doing, I would like it very much if you were able to provide her a 'neutral' opinion regarding whatever she might consider doing with the horcruxes. In fact, you should pursue any opportunity whatsoever to associate with Mrs. Black. Additionally, I would appreciate it if you would provide me with regular reports of what you have discovered—anything about the nature of horcruxes, anything about how they can be destroyed, and anything regarding how they might be corrupted or otherwise exploited."

"Very well," Hermione said willingly. "From time to time I will need permission to access the Restricted Section of the library. Is it all right to approach you at these times?"

"I have instructed Madam Pince that you are to have free access to the Restricted Section," Dumbledore announced. "I would appreciate it if you visited me on a weekly basis with reports of what you have learned. We can discuss your findings."

"Okay," Hermione said, standing up from where she had been seated and already ecstatic about her new free access to the Restricted Section.

"If you are so inclined, Miss Granger, you may register an apprenticeship declaration with the Ministry," Professor Dumbledore said. "With this and a little extra work after you take your NEWTs in the coming weeks, I think you would be a quick candidate for a Mastery certification, especially with my sponsorship."

"My owl will be en route to the Ministry today," Hermione said effusively as she hastily exited the office.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Grouchily, Draco Malfoy pushed Bellatrix's lawnmower across the Dursley's yard. Not only was it hot and miserable out, but that obnoxious kid from down the street was watching him work again. Glancing around to make sure that neither Mr. or Mrs. Dursley were watching, Draco yelled out at the kid. "What are you looking at, Shorty?"

Shorty took this as an invitation to come over and talk. "Is this your job?" he asked.

"No, I do this for fun," Draco said bitterly, stopping the lawnmower and leaning on it.

"Oh."

"Why, do you think it looks fun?"

"Looks like a decent job. What do you do? Go around and ask people if you can mow their lawn?"

"Something like that," Draco said, thinking back to how Bellatrix had practically indentured him to the Dursley family for a month. That month was nearly up, though. Soon, he'd be able to charge Mr. Dursley good money to mow his nasty lawn."

"How much do you get paid?" Shorty asked.

"A fair enough amount," Draco said, thinking of the other lawns he mowed and not ready to admit that he was doing this one for free. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Draco. "I could pay you to mow this lawn and others," Draco offered.

"Really?" the kid asked. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of mowing the lawn to make money?"

"Well, no," Draco said. "What I could do is that I would find you lawns to mow. You mow them, get paid, and I take a small cut. You don't even have to think or interact with the people. Just mow the lawns I tell you to mow."

"Where do I get a lawnmower?"

"You can use this one," Draco said generously.

"All right," the kid said. "But what if you find me too many lawns to mow?"

"Then I'll find one of your friends to help," Draco said.

"Sounds like a plan," the kid said. "Do I start right now?"

"Sure," Draco said, handing over the lawnmower. "I can pay you only half for this lawn today because I've already done so much."

"Fair enough," the kid said.

Walking down the street, Draco chuckled darkly as the noise of the lawnmower on the Dursley's law faded into the background. He reckoned that he could knock a few doors and get some more customers before the end of the day. If he could find enough lawns for the kid to mow, and enough to bring on some more kids, he would be able to make enough to eat from the cut he got from their wages. He would frustrate his aunt's plans yet. Gleefully, he picked a street and began knocking on doors, happily anticipating being able to laze on his aunt's couch while earning money.

37. Lessons, Duels, and Plots

A/N: Many thanks for your reviews.

Chapter 36: Lessons, Duels, and Plots

Lord Silvere

"Captain?" Barty Crouch, Jr. said inquisitively as he stepped into Amelia Bones's office.

"Yes, come in and close the door behind you," Amelia said, trying to be as welcoming as possible without accidentally selling the impression that she wanted to be anything more than a close acquaintance of the department head's son.

Barty shut the door and then helped himself to a seat in Amelia's office. "What can I do you for today?" he asked.

Amelia steepled her fingers and stared off into space, not answering immediately. She did know what she wanted to talk about, but she did not want it to seem to him that this was something she was doing as a matter of course.

"Captain?"

"Ah, yes, Barty," Amelia said, bringing herself out of her self-imposed reverie. "The thing is that I am thinking about making a bit of a political move. In order to get the desired effect, I need some help to see to it that your father ends up with a little bit of egg on his face. Nothing too permanent or serious, you understand. Naturally, I thought of you."

"Is that so?" Barty asked cautiously.

"Yes," Amelia said casually. "You are quite the model son, but everyone around here has noticed that your father doesn't really appreciate you all that much. You have quite a bit of talent that old Crouch and Prewitt have overlooked. If things go well, I might have the power to give you more opportunities to excel. At worst for Crouch and Prewitt, they will have a bit of embarrassment to deal with. Nobody gets hurt in the end."

"What did you have in mind?" Barty asked.

"Well," Amelia said hesitantly, as if she was having second thoughts about bringing him into the plot, "the easiest way is to make some sort of policy or procedure approved by your father look stupid. Maybe if a couple of prisoners were to escape . . ."

"Prisoners in the Ministry cells and Azkaban don't just escape because of a slightly bad policy," Barty pointed out.

"True," Amelia agreed, "but perhaps in transit?"

"Yes, I think there is always room for mistakes there," Barty said.

"So, if you were to be assigned to a prisoner transport detail sometime in the next few days, there is the hypothetical possibility that all the prisoners might escape, and that somehow, the reason for their escape will be tied to Director Crouch," Amelia said.

"A very good chance, I should think," Barty agreed. "Chances would be increased if the transport detail was moving at night and maybe on a weekend."

"Prisoner transport has been known to occur on all days of the week and all times of the day," Amelia said. "There's nothing odd about that."

"Nothing at all," Barty concurred.

~!~!~!~!~!

"I appreciate you coming this evening," Professor Dumbledore said to Bellatrix by way of greeting.

"Always a pleasure," Bellatrix said with false brightness as she walked through the doors that served as the main entrance to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore walked with her through the doors and gestured toward the Great Hall. "We will be hosting our dueling club meeting in there. If you would accompany me, there is a room behind the staff table where we can briefly discuss certain matters while we wait for the students to gather.

"Lead the way," Bellatrix said despite the fact that she and Dumbledore were already making their way toward the Great Hall.

Soon, they entered the Great Hall to discover that a number of students had already gathered in anticipation of the meeting. Among them was Sidra Potter and Ron Weasley, neither of which Bellatrix particularly liked. However, she spared them both a respectful nod as she passed with Professor Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid that this dueling meeting will be our last for this academic year," Dumbledore told Bellatrix. "The summer holiday is fast approaching, and most of the students want to focus on preparing for their exams."

"Of course," Bellatrix murmured, not caring about whether there was another dueling meeting any time soon.

They entered the room behind the staff table, and Dumbledore secured their privacy in the room with locking and anti-eavesdropping spells. "I was hoping, though, that you might consider dropping by to do individual tutoring with some of the students with which you are already acquainted," he said, continuing the conversation.

"Tutoring? Really?" Bellatrix responded, not hiding the fact that she was not particularly warm to the idea.

"If you are going to be taking my students out on little adventures, it would serve both you and them if they had a little bit of extra training," Dumbledore suggested, his eyes twinkling perhaps a little coolly. "I'll think about it," Bellatrix said, actually intending to approach Harry and see if he wanted to do it.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, seeming very pleased. "As the next order of business, I was wondering if you received my owl detailing how we have spent the money you kindly donated."

"Err, yes," Bellatrix said, remembering a letter that Harry had examined but that she had not really paid any attention to.

"Have you decided whether you can spare any more money for the charitable efforts?"

"Not yet," Bellatrix said. "Things have been eventful of late."

"Naturally," Dumbledore agreed before flitting onto the next subject. "I was hoping to get a bit of an update on your horcrux project. I understand that you captured another one."

"Yes," Bellatrix said.

"So that means you have possession of two horcruxes and have destroyed a third, if I have been kept up to date."

"I have two horcruxes, and one was destroyed," Bellatrix confirmed.

"There's also one somewhere in this castle, correct?"

"Correct."

"So that means that Lord Voldemort made at least four horcruxes," Dumbledore mused. "Do you know if he made more than that?"

Bellatrix yawned and did not attempt to hide it. "The information I have indicates that there are three horcruxes that have yet to be discovered. That makes a total of seven. My limited knowledge of Arithmancy and my extended study of horcruxes in general suggests that the Dark Lord will not have made more than seven horcruxes."

"When are you going to begin searching in earnest for the fourth horcrux?" Dumbledore probed.

Bellatrix cracked a mischievous smile. "The search is ongoing."

"Very good," Dumbledore said despite it being obvious to both him and Bellatrix that he did not really comprehend quite what Bellatrix had meant. Nevertheless, he pushed on. "And what of the remaining three horcruxes? Have you had a chance to make any efforts there?"

"I am preparing to begin my efforts there," Bellatrix said, admitting that she had not really done anything to identify the remaining horcruxes. "Perhaps you can pass on information to me if you hear that the Dark Lord at one time or another acquired any valuable or famous magical objects."

"I will do that," Dumbledore agreed readily. "Now, just so you are not taken by surprise, I want you to know that I have told Hermione Granger about the horcruxes. She has been doing a lot of research since then. She is a smart witch, even if she is young. If you give her the chance, she could prove useful to you."

"I will keep that in mind," Bellatrix said.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "There is one last thing I wanted to bring up. While I do hope that you agree to give some of your new friends some tutoring on dueling, I was especially hoping that you might give Hermione some tutoring on the Dark Arts and horcruxes."

"You want me to teach the Dark Arts?" Bellatrix asked in a surprised tone of voice.

"Well, not teach the Dark Arts per se," Dumbledore said, "but at least bring Ms. Granger up to speed. If anything happened to you, we would be very sorry indeed if you took everything you have learned to the grave before you have a chance to use it against Lord Voldemort."

"I will see what I can do," Bellatrix said half-heartedly.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, smiling brightly. "I believe it is time for your lesson to start."

"My lesson?" Bellatrix asked. "Don't you mean your lesson? You essentially usurped me last time I taught at this sort of gathering."

"Fear not," Dumbledore said with an undecipherable smile, "I will allow you complete, uninterrupted freedom this time." He then led Bellatrix out to the raised platform where the staff table normally was placed at meals. After silence fell among the students present, he introduced Bellatrix and turned the time over to her.

Somewhat bemusedly, Bellatrix surveyed the group of students who had gathered to learn dueling skills from her. Near the front, she spotted Rose and Leo. The rest of their friends had spread themselves out in the crowd.

Bellatrix drew her wand and cast a minor voice amplification charm. "Tonight, I will not focus on teaching you specific spells. You should be learning individual spells in your classes and on your own time. Tonight, I will teach you how to cast rapid combinations of spells. At the end of this lesson, you should be able to begin crafting your own spell combinations. You will then practice them until you can do them quickly and without thought."

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry's heart pounded in the eerie silence that permeated the Room of Requirement. His wand drawn, he patrolled the small lanes in between each towering pile of rubbish and treasure that the room had apparently collected during the length of its existence.

Although his general detection spells had detected nothing, Harry was now methodically walking among the piles of junk, casting multiple detection spells on each pile. It was a long and tedious process. At one point, he spotted a broomstick. Grabbing it, Harry took off into the air and surveyed the contents of the room as he slowly flew in circles near the room's ceiling, still casting detection spells.

Eventually, he satisfied himself that the room was devoid of wards or spells that he might accidentally trigger. With that behind him, Harry turned his attention to figuring out how one might find the proverbial needle in the haystack. The room had failed to honor his request to produce only the horcrux. Perhaps it did not understand the nature of the horcrux enough to produce it, or perhaps there were spells protecting the horcrux from magical manipulation. Feeling rather like he was searching for the snitch during an indoor Quidditch match, Harry patrolled back and forth over the piles of junk both looking for anything that seemed obvious as well as trying to think of any possible way he could use magic to detect the horcrux.

The thought of burning the contents of the room occurred to Harry. He strongly suspected that the horcrux would survive such a fire, but the thought of destroying all of the treasures in the room held him back. In theory, the Room of Requirement drew on the contents of this room when producing other rooms requested by those who needed it.

So, Harry continued to fly, both racking his brain and watching for anything unusual among the piles of discarded books, furniture, and other items.

~!~!~!~!~!

Hermione watched the persistent purebloods, social climbers, and overambitious politely mob Bellatrix as the rest of the students who were wont to attend dueling club meetings melted away—heading back to their common rooms for the night. Not wanting to leave Bellatrix with the impression that she was a part of that crowd, but afraid that Bellatrix would find an opportunity to slink away, Hermione approached the group and took a position on the outer fringe, trying to make eye contact with Bellatrix.

Bellatrix never returned eye contact, but when the final student departed the Great Hall, Bellatrix gazed at Hermione with a somewhat blank stare.

"I . . . uh, wanted to ask you some things," Hermione said.

"Yes," Bellatrix said, absently fiddling with a ring on her hand. "Professor Dumbledore told me that he would like for me to teach you the Dark Arts."

"Not quite the Dark Arts," Hermione corrected hastily. "I know about your special project, and the headmaster thought it would be a good idea for us to work together. Mainly, you could tell me enough so that I could have more solid base for my research on the magical objects you have been collecting."

As Hermione waited for a response, Bellatrix continued to touch the ring. Finally, she began walking to the entryway of the Great Hall, letting her hands drop to her sides. "It appears that I have plenty of time," Bellatrix said, not sounding overly pleased, but resolute. "Let us find an empty classroom."

"You mean you want to start tonight?" Hermione asked, feeling quite surprised as she moved to catch up and walk beside Bellatrix.

"Why not?' Bellatrix countered. "I am here; you are here, and it would be a bother for me to come back here any more often than necessary."

"There's curfew to be considered," Hermione said. "We might go over."

Bellatrix pointedly gazed at the badge on Hermione's robes. "Surely that is good for something."

"Well, I suppose," Hermione said aloud, silently telling herself that it would probably be okay to stay out late with Bellatrix. Professor Dumbledore had practically assigned her to associate with Bellatrix as much as possible. Then of course, he had approved of her going with Rose and the others to that cavern well after curfew as well.

Hermione noted that Bellatrix's memory of the school seemed to serve well for quickly finding an empty classroom on one of the upper floors. Hermione watched as the other witch shut the door, locked it, and erected wards to protect against eavesdroppers and intruders. Bellatrix then levitated a desk to the middle of the room and transfigured it into something that resembled more of a worktable.

"So," Hermione said, trying to fill the silence, "my research led me to Heclades's treatise on the Dark Arts. He mentions horcruxes."

"Does he?" Bellatrix asked, taking position at one of the sides of the work table.

"Yes," Hermione said, not sure whether to sound confident or whether to take Bellatrix's comment some other way.

"And what did Heclades say about horcruxes?" Bellatrix inquired, watching Hermione dispassionately.

Hermione, not sure what Bellatrix had in mind, stepped across the room and took a position at the opposite side of the table.

"Well, he outlined some of the more mainstream rumors," Hermione said, wondering if she should recount the specifics.

"The term mainstream and the Dark Arts do not mix," Bellatrix informed Hermione. "Your first lesson regarding the Dark Arts will focus on how the Dark Arts passes through time. You will learn that the Dark Arts pass through time both as a culture and as an art passed from masters to apprentices. When we are finished tonight, I expect that you will be able to conduct research on the Dark Arts far better than you have in the past.

Hermione frowned. "What is wrong with looking to Heclades for background?"

"When I finish presenting my lesson, you should be able to tell me the answer to that question," Bellatrix said.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry cast a banishing at one of the piles of junk and watched as the precariously balanced contents of the pile scattered across the floor with a loud crash. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Instead of being in a pile, the junk was now merely in a worse mess. Wondering what Bellatrix had been thinking when she suggested this course of action, Harry nudged his broom and flew slowly to the next pile of junk, also wondering how he could have bent the timeline to the point that Bellatrix Black was now teaching Hermione Granger the Dark Arts.

Harry had been surprised when he had learned from Bellatrix via the Malfoy ring connections that Professor Dumbledore had requested that she take Hermione under her wing. Bellatrix had not been enthusiastic, but Harry had supported the idea, even resorting to pointing out that Bellatrix may as well stay at the castle until he was done poking around the Room of Requirement for the night. Hopefully, Dumbledore would be so focused on monitoring Bellatrix's movements through the castle that he would continue to neglect the upper floors where Harry now was.

Shaking his head with a faint smile, Harry walloped the next pile of junk with a banishing charm. To his surprise, an extremely large horde of pixies burst forth from the center of the stack and flew for Harry. Not having dealt with pixies in such a long time, Harry was not quite as quick with his wand as he might have been if faced with a Dark wizard.

The appropriate freezing spell came to mind, and Harry thrust his arm above his head, about to cast it. Just then, he spotted three Dementors emerging from the pile of junk. Gasping, Harry forgot about the pixies and began the movements for a Patronus spell, summoning the happiest memory he could despite the rushing torrent of bad memories—his mother screaming, the death cries of Order members in various battles of the Lost War, his friends mourning for others who had fallen.

The familiar stag that was Harry's patronus burst forth from his wand and Harry watched with satisfaction as the stag trampled the Dementors, but his satisfaction was short-lived. The pixies had continued to attack him, and before he could right himself, he found himself separated from the broom and falling into the junk below.

He landed on his wand arm funny and felt the bone snap. Cursing as pain exploded through his arm and trying to shield himself from the attacking pixies, Harry grabbed his wand with his left hand and let off a banishing charm. The pixies were pushed across the room, and some of them smacked into the far wall. The Dementors had dodged the Patronus and were still coming for him. Confused, Harry tried to direct the Patronus back toward him, but it faded.

Bewildered at this strange behavior, Harry quickly realized that he was dealing with boggarts. In quick succession, he cast the spells to kill the boggarts. They dissipated, but just as soon as they did, another danger presented itself. A diadem that had been mixed in with the junk had sprouted silvery legs as if it was some sort of spider and was rapidly rushing toward where Harry was lying. Trying to move himself but finding it difficult while holding a wand with his only good arm, Harry hit the diadem with a blasting charm. Seemingly immune to the blasting, the diadem continued forward. Harry cast a banishing charm at it. The banishing charm had no effect. The spidery diadem then jumped on Harry and went for his throat with some of the legs. Harry dropped his wand and began one-handedly wrestling with the diadem, trying to push it away from him as it alternatively tried to strangle him and draw blood.

Realizing that he was in over his head, Harry squeezed his ring and sent a message to Bellatrix. "Help me!"

~!~!~!~!~!

"The Dark Arts were probably far more prevalent in ancient times than they are now," Bellatrix droned on, "but that is attributed to the general ignorance and superstition of the magical population. Everybody had an idea of how Dark Magic might work, but few truly understood, and even fewer had the luxury of being able to study uninterrupted by the cares of eking out a living under feudal lords. If somebody learned about Dark Magic, it was because they had found somebody to teach them. The founding of Hogwarts led to a decline in the Dark Arts because more standard and practical forms of magic were being taught to a broader base of people. Do you understand that dynamic?"

"Yes," Hermione said, looking up from the parchment on which she had taken notes.

"Good," Bellatrix said.

Hermione resumed her note taking before Bellatrix could continue lecturing. The depth of Bellatrix's knowledge had taken Hermione by surprise. Only now was Hermione realizing the complexity of the assignment she had been given. The horcruxes fit into this somehow, and of course, the Dark Arts had enjoyed considerable influence over society. To Hermione, it seemed like what Bellatrix was saying melded in with nearly everything she had learned.

Suddenly, Bellatrix grabbed her wand and cancelled the charms protecting the empty classroom.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded.

"Harry's in trouble," Bellatrix hissed as she rushed out the door.

Dropping her quill, Hermione took off after Bellatrix. As she made her way into the hall, she saw that Bellatrix was running at full tilt. Drawing her wand, Hermione also began running. Quickly, it became apparent that Bellatrix was faster and had more stamina than Hermione, but still, Hermione was able to keep Bellatrix in sight until she disappeared into a door down a hall that Hermione had previously thought devoid of any rooms.

Panting, Hermione reached the door and paused for only a moment to catch her breath before pushing her way into the room. Inside, it was chaos. Random objects were strewn all over the floor, and hundreds of pixies were swarming over something near the back of the room. Bellatrix was ahead of Hermione, climbing over furniture and weaving her way through an obstacle course. Every couple of seconds, she released a powerful shocking curse from her wand that caused an electrical-looking orb to zoom into the middle of the pixie swarm and explode.

"Target those bloody pixies," Bellatrix shouted, looking back for an instant to confirm that Hermione had followed her.

Not bothering to reply, Hermione began blasting stunners at the pixies. Because there were so many, each stunner eventually hit a pixie. But, realizing that this was not going to help Harry if he was the target of the swarm, Hermione conjured a whirlwind and let it rip across the room. This had the desired effect of driving the pixies away, but it also caught up some of the junk, and Bellatrix got hit in the head.

Wiping blood from her forehead, Bellatrix glared back at Hermione. "Be more careful!" she yelled before turning back to her objective and pushing forward.

"Sorry," Hermione called back remorsefully, already summoning a more carefully tailored whirlwind.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry gritted his teeth as he tried to summon strength to force the diadem away from him. So far, he had kept it from cutting his throat open, but it had gotten a strong chokehold around his neck. Suddenly, he felt someone else tugging at the diadem. Opening his eyes, Harry spotted Bellatrix kneeling above him. Just as he realized this, the diadem's grip on his throat loosened enough for him to breathe a bit more than he had been. "I think this is the horcrux," Harry gasped.

"No, really?" Bellatrix shot back, pulling on the diadem with her free hand as she braced herself against the floor with her feet.

"Yes, really," Harry said, adjusting his hand so that he could get a better grip on the diadem.

"What's wrong with your other arm?" Bellatrix asked.

"Broken," Harry said. "I've had worse in Quidditch, though."

"Didn't know you had those sorts of escapades in Quidditch," Bellatrix grunted, moving so she could get more leverage on the diadem which was doing all it could to hang onto Harry's neck.

"Forgot to mention those parts," Harry said.

"Forgot, yeah," Bellatrix said sarcastically. "All right, I think I can use a spell to stun this thing."

"A stunner?" Harry said, still having to struggle a bit for his breath. "It's a diadem-horcrux!"

"It's like short circuiting something that uses electricity," Bellatrix said. "Of course, it will quickly recover on its own before long, but it should be long enough for me to get it in an unbreakable container."

"Do it," Harry directed.

"I think I'd better stun you first," Bellatrix said. "Just in case part of the spell hits you, too. It wouldn't kill you, but it would be more than just unpleasant for a conscious or sleeping mind."

"Fine."

"I'll wake you up as soon as possible," Bellatrix promised before hitting Harry with the stunner.

For Harry, everything went black.

~!~!~!~!~!

Hermione's original plan to stun the pixies would have been kinder, but in the chaos, she had resorted to banishing charms, exploding hexes, and fire. After several minutes and several spells, There were several hundred pixie corpses spread across the side of the room where Hermione's whirlwinds had brought them.

Hermione made her way over to where Bellatrix was kneeling just in time to see Bellatrix raise her wand with a dramatic flourish and let loose a burst of crackling energy that looked like red and purple lightning. Whatever the spell was supposed to do, it had apparently worked, for Bellatrix stood up, holding a silvery diadem in her free hand. "Accio glass jar!" she called. Nothing happened. "Accio glass container," Bellatrix tried again.

A crystal globe floated over to her. "It will have to do," she sighed, glancing at Hermione. "Levitate the ball for me, will you?"

Hermione levitated the ball and watched as Bellatrix used some delicate magic to melt the top of the glass ball open. She deposited the diadem therein and melted the ball again to reform it into a globe. She then cast about a dozen separate spells on the ball, including an unbreakable charm. "Hold it," Bellatrix directed Hermione.

Hermione grabbed the ball as Bellatrix returned to where Harry lay unconscious on the ground.

"Enervate," Bellatrix said.

Harry's eyes opened. "Did it work?" he asked faintly as he sat up and tried to reorient himself.

"Yes," Bellatrix said, motioning toward the ball that Hermione was holding.

"Good," Harry said. "All's well that ends well. I'm going to need to get my broken arm looked after, though."

"It's a simple break," Bellatrix said, assessing it without actually looking too closely. "I should be able to take care of it at home."

"All right," Harry acquiesced, glancing around, but staying where he was sitting on the floor.

Bellatrix looked back to Hermione, who was clutching the crystal globe, and held her hands out after depositing her wand in its sleeve holster. "I can take it now."

Hermione handed the ball over to Bellatrix. "Is that another horcrux?"

"Yes, and apparently a dangerous one at that," Bellatrix said.

"What are you going to do with it?" Hermione asked, perhaps a little too casually.

"Put it in my curio cabinet," Bellatrix said sarcastically.

"So, destroy it?" Hermione asked, attempting to interpret the sarcasm.

"Eventually," Bellatrix acknowledged.

"How is a horcrux destroyed?" Hermione asked.

"Fiendfyre or basilisk venom," Bellatrix said impatiently, looking around absently. "We have access to both."

Seeming to know what was going through Bellatrix's mind, Harry piped up. "I can just do the fire spell to get home."

"I know that," Bellatrix said. "I think maybe you should take me with you. I don't want to stroll through the castle and the grounds carrying the horcrux."

"I'm not sure how to do it for two people," Harry said, looking a bit nervous.

"It's probably like double Apparating," Bellatrix said, bending down and taking a seat next to Harry. Holding the crystal ball nestled in one arm, Bellatrix wrapped the other around Harry. She looked up at Hermione. "I have no doubt that you will inform Professor Dumbledore that I have captured the fourth horcrux. Feel free to do so, but do not mention Harry."

"Right," Hermione said, feeling at a loss for words.

Bellatrix nodded to Harry, who had retrieved his wand from the floor while Bellatrix was speaking to Hermione.

Using his unbroken arm, Harry awkwardly swished the wand from his sitting position. Flames exploded, and Harry and Bellatrix were no longer in the Room of Requirement.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry stood on the catwalk that ran around the edge of the hangar, which Bellatrix had bought specifically for their practice dueling sessions. After Harry and Bellatrix had arrived at their flat via the fire travel, Bellatrix had dosed Harry with a bone knitting potion and had immobilized him arm with an invisible cast. Then, at Bellatrix's urging, they had proceeded to the hangar for one of their normally schedule practice sessions.

Despite not having use of the arm, Harry had cast his image projection spell with his left hand before transferring the wand to his right hand while maintaining the spell. Then, he had drawn a Wandel wand and now held it in his left hand as he watched Bellatrix stand near the center of the hangar's floor.

"Come on, Harry," Bellatrix called loudly. "You cannot just spend the whole night hiding."

Harry frowned and used the image projection spell to make himself invisible and project his voice to another part of the catwalk. "In case you didn't notice, I happen to have a broken arm."

"So what?" Bellatrix retorted, shooting a flare to where she had heard Harry's voice. The flare revealed nothing. She had apparently expected that, for she had not followed the flare with any hexes.

"You're practically forcing me to duel left-handed with a Wandel wand!" Harry grumbled, projecting his voice and a non-image to the hangar floor right behind Bellatrix.

She whirled, letting of a shockwave blast from the tip of her wand. Realizing that Harry had not been behind her, she sighed. "It's good for you, Harry. Dueling left-handed can be valuable in certain situations—for instance right after you've broken your right arm in a duel."

"I've never broken my arm in a duel," Harry growled, making it seem as if he had spoken from the ceiling, right above Bellatrix.

"There is also the small matter of your favorite spell to consider," Bellatrix said.

"What about my favorite spell?" Harry asked, not really sure what spell she was talking about or how it was relevant to getting a broken arm in a duel and having to duel with the other one.

Scanning the area around her, Bellatrix slowly backed toward a wall, apparently having decided that it would be better to have her back against the wall so that Harry could not sneak up behind her. "You use the image projection spell every chance you get, Harry," Bellatrix pointed out. "If you are to use that spell safely, you must keep a wand dedicated to holding the spell. You should realize, Harry, that you are well on your way to perfecting a two-wand dueling style. You may as well embrace it and take this opportunity to develop your style further."

Harry decided that she was right, but he was still unhappy about having his right arm in a cast. "The last time I broke my arm, the bones got vanished and a dose of Skelegrow had everything healed by the next morning," he said accusingly, causing his voice to echo around the hangar as if he had spoken it from multiple locations.

"If you would like me to vanish your arm bones and dose you with Skelegrow, I would gladly do so," Bellatrix said, maintaining her guard, but no longer bothering to try to find where Harry was located.

"If you can restore bones like that overnight, why am I going to be wearing this cast for the rest of the week?" Harry demanded.

"Because I am not a professional healer," Bellatrix said, rolling her eyes. "I promise you, Harry, I know of no way to fix your arm any sooner. Skelegrow is the only other option, and I know you do not want that.

"Fine," Harry said sulkily, finally turning his attention to actually winning the practice duel now that he knew that Bellatrix had not deliberately done anything unfair. He caused his image to appear in front of her. Predictably, she reacted, and while she was glancing at the image, he shot a spell at her from where his body was standing. Without waiting, he drew his attention away from the image spell so that he could see from his body and swiftly moved to another position on the catwalk as she sent a barrage of spells toward him, following his progress along the catwalk.

At that point, he used his Wandel wand to cancel all the lighting in the hangar, leaving both him and Bellatrix in the dark. Knowing that the dark helped her as much as it did him, Harry used the image projection to make faint noises suggesting that he might be moving to another part of the catwalk. He then jumped down to the floor, softening the fall and masking the noise with a cushioning charm.

Using the light from the spellfire generated by Bellatrix's assault on the catwalk, Harry crept to a new position from where he would pursue the practice duel in earnest.

~!~!~!~!~!

Harry and Bellatrix practiced throughout much of the night. Exhausted from his encounter in the Room of Requirement, and still trying to master the regular use of his left hand for dueling, Harry had been disadvantaged and lost more often than usual to Bellatrix. Eventually, they ceased and made their way to the first open restaurant they could find to order breakfast and enjoy it at a leisurely pace.

From breakfast, the couple wandered to a grocery store where both Harry and Bellatrix fetched a shopping cart and went different ways. He fetched the eggs, milk, sausage, and other assorted items. When finished, he found Bellatrix reading a magazine near the checkout stand. She had filled her shopping cart to the rim with frozen meal boxes.

"You do realize that Kreacher doesn't know how to use the microwave, don't you?" Harry muttered as they began the checkout process with the half-asleep cashier.

"I have determined that it would be better for Kreacher to limit his talents to household tasks not involving cooking," Bellatrix said primly as she unloaded armfuls of boxes onto the conveyor belt.

"What happens if we have company?" Harry asked. "Are you just going to heat up frozen meals and plop the plastic tray down on the table in front of them? That would be some dinner party."

"First off," Bellatrix said as she stepped back and let Harry put his items on the belt, "we would take guests to a restaurant. However, in the event that we do bring them home, if plopping plastic trays in front of them offends you, I am sure we could transfer each meal to a proper plate after microwaving it."

"Perfect," Harry said, giving up on that fight.

When they returned to their flat with their magically enlarged grocery bags, Bellatrix proceeded to put the food away while Harry trudged to the bedroom, changed, and slipped into bed, feeling quite exhausted. Bellatrix followed about five minutes later.

"Daily Prophet came," she said as she stripped off her robes and exchanged them for her customary sleeping garb. "Looks like a couple of Death Eaters escaped custody while on their way to Azkaban."

Were they important Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"No, just small fish," Bellatrix said as she climbed into the bed. She grabbed an alarm clock from the bedside table and set it to wake them up in time for dinner.

"Do we have to be anywhere this evening?" Harry asked after watching her set the clock.

"No," Bellatrix said, "but seeing as many of our activities are going to be nocturnal for a while, we may as well make it a proper routine." She used her wand to make the curtains more opaque before settling down next to Harry. Together, they fell asleep while the rest of the world went to school and commuted to work.

~!~!~!~!~!

Neither Harry nor Bellatrix thought more of the escaped prisoners until Amelia asked Bellatrix to meet her for dinner one night. Physically, Bellatrix went alone to the specified restaurant, though Harry used the image projection spell to accompany her. As Bellatrix strode into the restaurant and was shown to Amelia Bones's table, Harry projected his image into the shape of a common housefly and made it appear on the cloth of booth seat on which Bellatrix took a seat. He did not try to make the fly move, but he could hear as if he was there in person.

"Looks like you started without me," Bellatrix commented as she sat down and noted the plate of food in front of Amelia.

Amelia pushed past Bellatrix's comment without giving an explanation. "I've got a little gift for you," Amelia announced, pushing a detailed map of the U.K. over to Bellatrix.

The server came over, and Bellatrix shooed her off by declining a beverage beyond the water already on the table, handing her the menu, and ordering the special. She then picked up the map and surveyed it. On it were two dots. "What is this supposed to be?" Bellatrix asked.

"Those two dots are the prisoners who escaped from Ministry custody a few nights back," Amelia said. "The ghost of your dearly departed can use this to track them and follow them to the next Death Eater raid or gathering. Then, instead of the usual show of lighting and mystical ghost figures, your dearly departed can stun every Death Eater in sight, memory charm them, and put the same tracking charm on them. Do that once or twice and it will be possible to track Death Eater movement so that you can begin a more serious ghost campaign against the Death Eaters."

"This map barely tells me what city they are in," Bellatrix observed just as the server arrived with a take-home box for Amelia.

"Tap the dot, and the map will show the city itself. It won't give exact street plans, but the geography should be enough, I think, to put you in the right neighborhood. Tap it again to zoom out. If you tap it four times rapidly it will give you instructions for how to add more people to its tracking mechanism."

"It seems very useful," Bellatrix said, frowning as she eyed the map and watched Amelia load her entire meal into the takeout box. "Why hasn't the Ministry employed this method until now?"

"I didn't really think of this idea until I was racking my brains for a way to help your dearly departed increase productivity," Amelia admitted. "Then, there is also the fact that we've approached this from a law enforcement perspective. We arrest Death Eaters and keep them arrested. I'm not sure Crouch would have the guts to let somebody go and wreak havoc in an attempt to get a profit out of it."

"Okay, then," Bellatrix said.

"It would be better if we did not meet like this again," Amelia said, finishing up and preparing to leave. "Secrecy, you know. When your dearly departed starts doing things, I'll talk up you, Harry Ashworth, and the Black name as much as I can with the reporters and coworkers."

"And then I just assume that you will be in the wings, prepared to subtly give me help as a secret ally when I come out in the open as having helped the Ministry and publicly start a campaign to further my political ambitions?" Bellatrix said, sounding quite suspicious.

"Yes, count on it," Amelia said, standing up, saying farewell, and leaving the restaurant.

Bellatrix sat alone in the booth with only Harry's projected housefly image as company. Thoroughly nonplussed, she accepted her meal from the server and stabbed the steamed vegetables fiercely. Noticing the fly still on the seat next to her, Bellatrix decided to bring him in on the loop.

"Basically," she said, "Amelia Bones wants to be Head Auror or Director of Magical Law Enforcement. No doubt, the people who currently hold those positions are highly embarrassed because of the prisoner escape. This embarrassment will turn to public humiliation when Aurors under Amelia's direct command start hauling in Death Eaters by the dozen, courtesy of the Ghost of Ashworth. If she's honest enough to throw credit our way, I might find my way onto the Wizengamot because of this, but largely, the profit and glory will belong to Amelia Bones."

"Sounds complicated," came Harry's quiet voice.

"Oh, no, it actually is quite simple," Bellatrix said, picking up her dinner knife after switching her fork into her other hand. "The complicated part is what I plan to do about it."

"Just remember that the most important goal is to take Tom down," Harry's voice intoned. "Also remember to order me something and bring it home."

~!~!~!~!~!

"Today was going to be special! It was Didders's first day home after completing his schooling," Petunia wept. "And then this!" She gestured to Dudley, who had been transformed into an extremely large, yellow canary and was now sitting on the loveseat, making it look like a smallish armchair. Occasionally, he would flap his small wings and chirp.

"This is a very common prank among witches and wizards," Tonks informed Mrs. Dursley as she sharply elbowed Sirius Black, who was snickering uncontrollably. "It's my understanding that it automatically wears off after a few minutes."

"It's been more than a few minutes," Petunia wailed.

"Quite," Tonks said, glancing at Dudley. "Well, let's wait a few more minutes. If he doesn't change back on his own, we'll undo it, and all will be well."

"Not all will be well," Lily said darkly from where she stood at the front window. "Somebody is harassing Petunia and her family, and I suspect it's to get at me. I intend to find who it is and give them a piece of my mind!"

~!~!~!~!~!

"Mrs. Black," Professor Dumbledore said as he passed out of the Great Hall and found Bellatrix standing there waiting for him, "what brings you back to Hogwarts so soon after your last visit?"

"I was so enthused about giving Dark Arts lessons to Granger that I could not keep myself away," Bellatrix said, smiling snidely. "There is also the matter of a small favor I need to ask of you and your Order."

"Let us talk about it in the privacy of my office," Dumbledore suggested, passing over Bellatrix's sarcasm and gesturing for her to follow him toward his office.

They made their way to the headmaster's office swiftly, making small talk. When they arrived, Dumbledore took his customary seat while Bellatrix chose one of the chairs across from his desk.

Dumbledore proffered the lemon drop dish as he smiled benignly. "What is it you have in mind, Mrs. Black?"

"With my other activities, I have been too busy to pursue my Ghost of Ashworth counter attacks," Bellatrix said, ignoring the lemon drop dish.

"And you would like for the Order to pick up that task?" Dumbledore said, returning the lemon drops to his desk.

"I only need help from the Order for one night," Bellatrix said, "but I will not know what night or what time until the very moment."

"How many people would you need?" Dumbledore asked.

"Two or three," Bellatrix said.

"So, what you really need is to have two or three Order members on call for several nights in a row."

"Yes," Bellatrix said. "They would need to be ready for departure at a moment's notice."

"And what would they be doing?"

"I've got a tracker on a couple of Death Eaters," Bellatrix explained. "Hopefully, they will lead us to the beginnings of a Death Eater raid. My goal is to stun and obliviate all the Death Eaters involved in the raid and place tracking charms on them so that I can more easily interfere with future raids in which those Death Eaters might participate.

"It sounds like it could be a very successful plan," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"But?" Bellatrix asked.

"But what?" Dumbledore said.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I am waiting for you to start spouting conditions and prices."

"Well," Dumbledore said slowly, "the thought occurs to me that you better would be able to pursue these attacks against Death Eaters if you were to open yourself to receiving more help on the horcrux front. I understand that you now have three horcruxes in your possession."

Bellatrix was already shaking her hand. "The horcruxes are perfectly safe."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed. "I must say that I feel that you are taking extraordinary risks by working on these horcruxes alone and by being the only person responsible for their safekeeping. It would be far better if you brought the horcruxes to Hogwarts and let me help keep them safe. I would allow you full access and let you retain primary responsibility for using them against Lord Voldemort."

"Your concerns are duly noted. Now, how about you assigning two of your Order members to camp with me at Grimmauld Place tonight until it is clear that nothing will happen tonight—and then the same for every night thereafter until I can get trackers on more Death Eaters?" Bellatrix said.

Professor Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Tonight is short notice, and committing two Order members does draw on my resources."

"Are they doing anything better?"

"Many of them have families."

"Families that would benefit from Death Eaters being terrorized and captured," Bellatrix countered.

"What if you reassured me that you will be willing to continue giving Ms. Granger lessons on the Dark Arts and that you will provide dueling instruction to Rose Potter and her friends?" Dumbledore proposed.

"Whatever," Bellatrix said, standing up and signaling she was finished with this conversation. "Have your Order members meet me at Grimmauld Place shortly before sunset. If you have relevant questions, I will be in an empty classroom teaching Granger—assuming she is available."

"I am sure she will make herself available," Dumbledore said to Bellatrix as she slipped out of the room.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"One of these days, your fashion sense will kill you," Harry grumbled to Bellatrix as he dug through her collection of footwear looking for some boots he could wear to Grimmauld Place and then hopefully to the Death Eater raid that the Order would help him subdue. He had just dosed himself with Polyjuice and had undergone the transformation into his wife's body. Now, he was on the final stage of his quest to dress himself in clothes in which he could duel in best form. His last battle experience in Bellatrix's body had not been as pleasant as one might hope.

"What's wrong with my shoes?" Bellatrix asked, standing with arms crossed as she watched Harry go through her footwear.

"Every last one of them has high heels!" Harry complained. "You know what? I give up." He stood up and glanced at the clock. "The shops in Diagon Alley should still be open for another half hour. I'm going to go buy you a new pair of boots that you can duel in."

"What if you cannot find any boots without heels?" Bellatrix smirked, stepping aside as Harry, looking like her mirror image, stalked past her and made his way to the main room of the flat after having put on a pair of slippers.

"Then I'll get wizard boots in your size," Harry resolved.

"Don't you dare!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "And if you buy a pair of boots that is not black, I will beat you senseless for every person who sees you wearing them and thinks it's me."

"I'll be sure to not let you know what happens," Harry said, taking out his wand, which he had disguised to look like Bellatrix's wand.

He apparated and found himself in Diagon Alley. Swiftly, he made his way to a shoe shop. It took a thorough search of the shop, and the shopkeeper had to stay ten minutes past closing, but Harry finally settled on a pair of black, dragon hide boots. The boots did have heels, but they were small enough to not give Harry any trouble. Satisfied, and wearing Bellatrix's new boots, Harry apparated to Grimmauld Place and hoped that the Order members assigned to assist Bellatrix this night were people who did not know Bellatrix overly well.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

For the first night, Dumbledore had assigned Frank and Alice Longbottom to be on call, and they had been waiting outside of Grimmauld Place when Harry arrived. After Harry had explained everything, they had told him they intended to sleep in Grimmauld Place for the night and that he could wake them if the opportunity to foil a Death Eater raid presented itself. However, it did not.

In the early hours of the morning, Harry left Frank and Alice at Grimmauld Place and made his way to Hogwarts. Taking a quick gulp of Polyjuice to renew his disguise, Harry then used the fire transportation spell to take him to an empty classroom. From there, he made his way to the Room of Requirement.

Leo Black was waiting for Harry in the hall outside of the Room of Requirement. He frowned when he saw Harry approaching. "Bellatrix?" he asked.

Harry shook his head in the negative and rapidly paced back and forth to summon a room in which he could teach some dueling. The door to the room appeared, and Harry opened it, gesturing for Leo to step in. As soon as the door closed, Harry explained to Leo how he was using Polyjuice.

"Wicked!" Leo exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely. "So, I thought I invited all of your friends to this thing."

"You gave us really short notice," Leo explained. "Last night we had a party for winning the Quidditch Cup. Getting up early wasn't going to work out for them."

"Well done," Harry grinned. "But, please tell me you still enjoyed the party."

"Oh, I did," Leo said. "I feel exhausted, but I didn't want to miss an opportunity like this. Besides, I told them all that you would probably do more sessions. Summer is coming, so it will be easier to meet up."

"For sure," Harry said, fiddling with his wand. "Let's get started then. Bellatrix said she taught your dueling club about spellfire patterns. Have you worked on any?"

"Yes," Leo said. "Would you like to do a one-on-one thing?"

"Sure," Harry said. "Give me everything you got. Once I know where you are, maybe I'll start throwing some spells your way to see if you've got enough flexibility in your routine."

"Great," Leo said, drawing his wand.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

It was hard work, but Leo was thoroughly enjoying his session with Harry. In the dueling club class, Bellatrix had explained things very clearly, but had not done so well helping students put the dueling skills into practice. Harry seemed to believe in learning by doing. He had Leo show him what he had learned from studying on his own, and then practiced with him. Occasionally, Harry would pause the dueling and explain to Leo how he needed to change some aspect of his posture or spell casting, and then instruct Leo to focus on that during the next spell set. Leo already had a long list of things he wanted to work on in between lessons.

Eventually, Harry broke off this mode of practice. "I think that's enough of that for today."

"Oh, are we done then?" Leo asked, feeling disappointed.

"Not quite," Harry said. "I've got a different exercise for us to try. It will be for my learning as much as for yours. I want to develop some of my stealth skills. You'll benefit from learning to defend yourself from hidden enemies."

"Okay," Leo said, willing to try this out. "How do we know who wins if this isn't a normal duel?"

"One of us gets stunned?" Harry suggested, smiling and infusing warmth into Bellatrix's normally dispassionate face.

"I don't want to get stunned repeatedly," Leo said, pushing back. "Besides, you're so powerful that you can probably just zap me with a stunner from anywhere, no matter how many shield spells I have. It should be harder for you to win."

"All right," Harry said cooperatively. "What if you win the round by stunning me, and I win the round if I can . . . take away your wand?"

"You can still blast me with a disarming charm," Leo sighed, "but I guess it doesn't leave me stunned over and over."

"I'll try to be more subtle than that," Harry said. His wand twitched and something behind Leo flashed.

Reflexively, Leo glanced in the direction of the flash. When he looked back to where Harry had been standing, there was nothing there. Surprised, Leo spun around and in a complete circle. Despite being able to see the entire room clearly in good lighting, he could not see Harry anywhere. "Are you even in here?" he called out.

From the corner of his eye, Leo spotted a flash of light. Instantly, he threw himself to the ground and rolled, coming up and shooting a stunner in the general direction from where Harry had fired. The stunner hit the wall and cancelled out.

Annoyed with his inability to even see his opponent, Leo shot stunners in several random directions before erecting a shield spell to make a bubble around his person. Almost as soon as the shield coalesced, a yellow beam of light came from above Leo and shattered the shield.

Then, Harry appeared right in front of him, reaching out for his wand. Leo shot a stunner with lightning speed, but it passed harmlessly through the illusion. Panting from the adrenaline in his system, Leo turned slowly trying to find some sign of where Harry might be.

"I win," Harry declared suddenly standing about two feet to Leo's left.

"What?" Leo exclaimed. He looked at his hand. His wand was no longer there, although he still had his hand clutched as if it was there.

Harry also looked surprised as he observed Leo's consternation. "You didn't even feel me take the wand away?"

"No."

Harry handed Leo the wand. "Close your eyes, hold out your wand like you're dueling, and concentrate on trying to feel me take away your wand."

Leo closed his eyes and gripped his wand, waiting. The sensation of the wand beginning to leave his hand was very slight. "I feel it," he said, opening his eyes, clutching the wand tight, and finding Harry standing right next to him with his hand on Leo's wand "I guess I was just so caught in up trying to find you that I didn't notice what was going on next to me."

"Indeed," Harry said. "You will want to learn how to focus. In a situation where you don't know where your enemy is and where you are alone, you definitely should focus on the safety of your person."

"Right," Leo said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Now humor me," Harry said. "Hold your wand like you're in a dueling stance, but don't fire any spells. "Tell me the instant you feel me taking away your wand."

Leo closed his eyes and assumed a dueling posture, clutching his wand so tight that his knuckles were beginning to whiten. A moment passed before Harry tried.

"Feel it," Leo said as he felt a tug on the wand.

"You're holding your wand quite tightly," Harry said. "Try to hold it normally as if you don't expect me to steal it."

"Fine," Leo said, relaxing his grip.

Another moment passed, and then, Leo felt the slightest sensation against his flesh. "Feel it!" he exclaimed

"Again," Harry said, sounding a bit disappointed.

This was repeated several times with Leo being able to feel the wand moving each time, no matter how subtly or delicately Harry tried to do the deed. At one point, Harry did a switching spell.

"Definitely felt that!" Leo exclaimed, opening his eyes and gesturing for Harry to return the wand.

"Blast," Harry muttered. "It seemed like it would work." He handed Leo the wand.

"You did get the wand away from me," Leo said encouragingly.

"Yes," that is good, Harry admitted. "But think how much more amazing it would be if the person doesn't realize for several moments that the wand has gone missing."

"Try something new," Leo suggested, holding the wand out and closing his eyes.

He stood there for several moments, but nothing happened. "Harry? Are you going to try?"

"I already did," Harry declared.

Leo opened his eyes and found that his wand indeed was gone. He flexed his hand, and rubbed it. "I could swear I felt it still there."

Harry smiled victoriously. "Let's try it a few more times."

They did, and each time of ten more attempts, Harry was able to slip away the wand without Leo noticing.

"Are you going to teach me how to do that?" Leo demanded after Harry declared that they had probably done enough and that Leo should probably make his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"You would need to learn more than just a couple of spells to make that work in a real situation," Harry said. "Maybe later on I can teach you. I still need to develop and test it out some more. Doing it in these circumstances is a far cry from doing it in a normal duel."

"Are you going to try it on your wife?" Leo asked mischievously.

Harry smirked, suddenly looking more like Bellatrix than he had all morning. "Oh, yes. I'll let you know how it turns out."

38. The Price of a Wizengamot Seat

A/N: Reviews as always, are accepted with a grateful heart. Flames are tolerated, though I wish you'd have the guts to not be anonymous. That way I could flame you back and let you know what chapter you obviously didn't read or poke holes in your advice. ;)

Chapter 37: The Price of a Wizengamot Seat

Lord Silvere

Harry emerged from the bathroom after taking a shower, dosed himself with Polyjuice, and made his way up the stairs to where Bellatrix had set up shop. Over the weeks, the upper floor of Harry and Bellatrix's flat in Manchester had gradually evolved into what looked like a fully functioning lab, not unlike the rooms in the Department of Mysteries that Harry had passed through during his fifth year at Hogwarts.

The main difference between Bellatrix's lab and the Department of Mysteries was that Bellatrix seemed to be working on only one project, whereas in the Ministry labs, various specimens and experiments had littered all the free space.

Bemusedly, Harry surveyed the dozen or so lab tables that Bellatrix had laid out precisely in a grid-like fashion with plenty of room between each table and either the next table or the wall. Some tables were empty or mostly empty while others were stacked high with magical tomes and packets with sheaves of old parchment written on in barely legible writing. The center table had extra space around each of its sides. Nothing appeared to be on it, but above it in the air hovered the diadem and the locket that served as horcruxes for Voldemort.

The room itself was a little bit dim, but light shone down on the horcruxes as they slowly rotated in the air. The casual observer would have concluded that the diadem and locket were valued possessions on display as if in a museum. Harry knew better and gave the table a wide berth as he made his way across the room to where Bellatrix had set up a wing-backed chair and side table to serve as her desk.

The horcruxes appeared to be unprotected, but anybody who tried to touch them would probably lose a hand when Bellatrix's defenses were triggered and the would-be thief found their hand and the horcrux it held suddenly forced down into one of the invisible bowls of basilisk venom that sat undetected on the table's surface. And that would mark only the beginning of the thief's troubles.

Bellatrix detected Harry's approach and broke her gaze away from the window next to her chair. She looked at Harry wryly. "You know, Polyjuice isn't getting any cheaper or plentiful," she said, "and we certainly do not have the time to brew it ourselves."

"I suppose we can worry about that when the time comes," Harry said lightly.

"I suppose we can," Bellatrix said. "But, we really should start making plans for how we will reveal that you are in fact, alive and well."

"Simple," Harry said deadpan, "I show up at the Ministry, make a scene, and walk out before anybody can ask too many questions."

"Obviously," Bellatrix said, seemingly annoyed that she was on the wrong end of the sarcasm and even receiving it from somebody who looked exactly like her and was wearing her clothes. "But, we should really be making plans so that you are revealed on our own schedule and in a way that reaps us the best advantage."

"Well, seeing as we're focused on the Ghost of Ashworth project for now," Harry said, "I'm sure we have plenty of time to think of something."

"Well great," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand and summoning a book from one of her lab tables. "You start thinking."

"I will if you will," Harry said. He turned to leave, but was stopped.

"Do you know Legilimency?" Bellatrix asked.

"We're acquainted, but I wouldn't say that we're quite on a personal level yet."

Bellatrix glared at her mirror image.

The mirror image finally gave in. "No, I do not know how to perform Legilimency."

"Great. We shall have to find a guinea pig."

"Why a guinea pig?" Harry asked.

"Because you will not be practicing it on me."

"Who says I have to practice it?"

"Who do you think?"

Harry shot a glance at the horcruxes. "Does it have to do with those things?"

"Yes."

Harry shrugged resignedly, but was wearing a smile as he exited the room via the staircase. Something about transforming into his wife affected his behavior. After several nights of practice, he felt that he was almost passable as his wife in not only appearance, but demeanor as well.

He exited the flat and was soon on his way to Grimmauld Place. He appeared on the street in front of the ancient Black town residence and proceeded to enter after checking the security charms. He observed that several interior lights were switched on as he shut the door behind him. Wondering whom Dumbledore had sent to be on call, Harry followed the light to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he found James and Lily sitting at the table eating dinner together.

"Bellatrix," Lily said, standing up, "it's good to see you."

"Likewise," Harry said, doing his best to sound neutral. Despite his experience teaching his parents at Hogwarts, he still was not used to having them around.

"Have you eaten?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Harry said.

"If you get hungry later, we do have extra," Lily said.

"Right," Harry said, nodding to Lily and James. "I'll just set up shop upstairs. If anything happens, I'll let you know."

"Excellent," Lily said brightly as she looked at James and tried to get him to share her apparent enthusiasm. "Professor Dumbledore told us all about your plan, and I think it will work out well if we can only get trackers on more than a couple of Death Eaters."

"Yes, it should," Harry said, leaving the kitchen and moving to the room where he had spent the last few nights with various Order members wishing and hoping that the Death Eaters they were tracking would lead them to more Death Eaters.

Harry was sitting in a padded rocking chair staring the map Amelia Bones had given to Bellatrix when Lily came upstairs.

"Is that the map?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry said, not breaking eye contact with the dots on the map that represented the escaped prisoners. Over the past few days, they had not stirred from their locations.

Lily used her wand to summon over another chair. She set it next to Harry's chair and sat on it. For several minutes, she and Harry watched the dots on the map do nothing.

"When precisely did you marry Harry Ashworth?" Lily asked suddenly.

Harry was surprised, but gamely fumbled for an answer. "A few weeks after I left Hogwarts."

"Is that why you left Hogwarts?" Lily inquired. "I mean, you did leave before completing even your sixth year."

Harry grinned, knowingly precisely what Bellatrix would say to this. "I was seventeen and did precisely what I wanted in those days. As for Ashworth, he certainly was involved in my motivations."

"Do you think now that leaving Hogwarts was a good idea? And marrying Harry?" Lily inquired.

"There were worse options," Harry said truthfully, yet evasively. Vaguely, he wondered how Bellatrix would have answered that question, though he realized it had been less than a year for Bellatrix since she had left Hogwarts. In fact, as far as Harry could calculate on short notice without having to go through the exercise of calculating how the time travel affected dates, Bellatrix was probably still seventeen.

He was spared from further questions when Lily suddenly noticed that one of the dots had moved a significant distance across the map. "I say, it looks like that one just apparated somewhere."

Harry watched the dot's movement excitedly. "We'd better check it out," Harry said.

"I'll get James," Lily said, standing up and walking briskly out of the room.

Harry kept his eyes on the target, and Lily soon returned with James in tow.

"Where are we going?" James asked, sounding very businesslike.

"West Devon," Lily answered, taking the map from Harry and showing James.

Harry reclaimed the map. "I'll apparate alone."

"Right," Lily said, taking James's arm.

Two quiet pops later, the trio were standing just outside a town in West Devon.

"Better put on some disillusionment and stealth charms," Harry said quietly, doing so himself and beginning to pick his way toward the town in the dark while checking the map to try and get his bearings.

Gradually, the map led them to a pub that sat on a small street nowhere close to the main drag. Despite being a pub and the night being relatively young, it stood quiet.

"I think this is a magical establishment," James declared quietly.

"Perhaps Death Eater establishment would be a more appropriate," Lily observed.

"Could it be some sort of base or hangout?" Harry wondered aloud.

"We'd be a bit too lucky if it was," James said pessimistically.

"I could take care of the Ghost of Ashworth spell," Lily offered.

"Oh, right," Harry said, overcoming his unfamiliarity with anybody but himself producing the Ghost of Ashworth, "but maybe that won't be necessary. We will be memory charming everybody so they don't realize that they have even been marked with tracking spells."

"It will be a good distraction if we want to get the drop on them," Lily declared.

"I suppose so," Harry assented as they quietly made their way toward the pub. "James, if you'll put up some anti-apparition wards, we'll slip in while Lily's illusion spell distracts them."

James was quick about putting up the wards, and Lily summoned the Ghost of Ashworth at Harry's nod. Within seconds, manly shrieks of terror broke out inside of the forlorn pub. The trio moved to rush into the pub, but they were repelled when the occupants of the building, four in total, rushed out wearing the dark robes, but lacking masks.

"We surrender," one of the Death Eaters called, falling to his knees and putting his hands up. The other three hung back in the shadows, not bowing, but certainly not seeming aggressive.

"I want to see wands!" James barked, stepping back and aiming his wand at the group of Death Eaters. "No sudden movements."

The four prisoners produced their wands and dropped them on the ground. While James pointed his wand at them, Lily gathered the wands.

"I'd better check to see that the building is clear," Harry said.

"Are you sure you can do that alone?" Lily asked as she assisted James in restraining the prisoners.

"Yeah, I got it," Harry said, stepping in the building with his wand drawn and immediately stealthing himself.

As he moved through the pub, it became relatively clear that the place had not been functioning as a business for several months, if not years. However, there was evidence that the building had been used as a meeting place or overnight resting place for assorted people—Death Eaters, probably. After performing a cursory check for dangerous enchantments, Harry used his image projection spell to search the area around the pub for any hostile parties. Finding nothing but the occasional person asleep in their bed in nearby homes, Harry concluded that the pub was safe for the moment.

Cancelling his stealth charms, Harry stepped outside the pub to find that James and Lily had been asking their prisoners questions.

"Let's go in and get comfortable," Harry said. "I reckon we'll be okay if we don't stay overly long. We can put up temporary wards and keep our portkeys nearby. I want to ask a few questions before we get to the reason we came."

"Good idea," Lily said. "They've just been telling us that there's nobody else already here or expected in the near future."

Harry had been feeling disappointed that they had bagged only four apparent Death Eaters, but his disappointment became more acute when he discovered that the four prisoners constituted two married couples—Mr. and Mrs. Scabior and Mr. and Mrs. Rowle. It was Mr. Scabior that had escaped and had been the Death Eater they had tracked on the map provided by Amelia Bones. It had also been Scabior who had been so vocal in his surrender.

At Harry's request, Lily lit up the room while Harry and James arranged some of the tables and chairs to accommodate them. As soon as they were settled in, Mr. Scabior launched into explaining his escape while his comrades looked on, looking rather disenchanted.

"I'll surrender myself," he averred, "honestly I will. It wasn't my idea to escape."

"Wasn't it?" Lily asked, not about to admit that Bellatrix Black and Amelia Bones had plotted to make the escape possible and that she knew it.

"The aurors abandoned us; it wasn't even a real escape," Scabior insisted.

"Did they now?" James asked, his eyes hooded and not revealing anything.

"Yes, it was Barty Crouch, Jr.," Scabior insisted.

"What?" Harry asked sharply.

"It was Auror Crouch who was in charge of transporting us. He abandoned us." Scabior explained.

"Bartemius Crouch, Jr.?" Harry repeated.

"Why are you the one asking questions, Mrs. Black?" Mrs. Rowle demanded. "You're not part of the Ministry."

Harry moved to make some explanation, but Mr. Rowle cut in. "You're Bellatrix Black?"

"Yes," Harry answered, "I am Bellatrix Black."

"The widow of the late Professor Ashworth," Mrs. Scabior commented quietly. "He was my professor at Hogwarts for a bit."

Looking at the Mrs. Scabior, Harry remembered vaguely teaching her in one of his upper-year potions classes, though neither her maiden name nor her given name came to mind. Realizing that he could not admit to recognizing her because he was posing as Bellatrix, Harry changed the subject. "What were you doing here tonight?" Harry asked.

"None of your business," Mrs. Rowle snapped.

"What was it?" James asked. "Death Eater date night?"

"You seem too few to launch a proper attack or raid," Harry commented, still feeling disappointed that he would not be adding very many Death Eater names to his map.

"All it takes is one to cause a little havoc," James opined, not doing much to hide his contempt of Death Eaters.

"True," Lily said, "but none of them appear ready to go out for a raid. I think it was just a meeting."

Harry frowned at the thought of a four-person Death Eater meeting. It did not seem like Death Eater protocol to him. Though perhaps if they were senior Death Eaters, it might make sense. But, Harry couldn't remember the Rowles or the Scabiors being among the Death Eaters high on the chain of command in his original dimension.

"Maybe we should see if we can find a truth potion before we obliviate them," James suggested.

"Obliviate us?" Mrs. Scabior asked quickly.

"What for?" Mr. Rowle demanded.

"You're not taking us in?" Mr. Scabior asked, sounding almost as if he was disappointed.

"Err, no," Harry admitted, reckoning that it did not matter what they said to the prisoners if they were going to lose their memory anyway.

"You're going to lead us to other Death Eaters while going about your business as if this meeting never happened," James announced, relishing this small victory against the Death Eaters.

"Oh, please no," Mr. Scabior begged. "Just turn me in to the Ministry. Let me serve my sentence and be done."

Harry began to feel a conflict beginning to brew deep inside of him. The plan had seemed so good when they had been operating on the assumption that the escaped Death Eaters would gleefully resume their atrocities. Now, he was facing a Death Eater who did not want to commit any more atrocities. Harry looked to the Rowles. "And what would you prefer? Going to Azkaban or continuing your Death Eater atrocities?"

"Neither," Mr. Rowle said.

"I'll cut you all a deal," Harry said, glancing at James and Lily and hoping that they would not see fit to interject. "Allow us to put you under an Imperius and a memory charm. You will end up doing what I need. Once you have accomplished what I need over a relatively short amount of time, I will see to it that you are removed from the conflict."

"Perhaps to out of the country?" Mrs. Scabior said hopefully.

"I am not sure that I would feel comfortable helping you escape the demands of justice," Harry said slowly. "I will try to arrange it so that nothing you do after tonight counts against you, and I will even try to work it out so that you might be spared Azkaban because of your cooperation. But, I don't think I can help you escape paying reparations for anything for which you are adjudged culpable."

"You talk quite expansively for somebody who doesn't hold a whit of influence in the Ministry bureaucracy or even the Wizengamot," Mrs. Rowle said.

"I anticipate that I will be able to approach Minister Prewitt and reason with him," Harry said. "I'm taking steps to help end this war favorably. If I am successful, it will cost the Ministry little to grant a few concessions to those who made victory possible."

"And if Minister Prewitt is not reasonable?" Mrs. Rowle questioned.

"Then, I shall become unreasonable," promised Harry. "You have my assurance that I will strive to honor my promises to you, even if I have to push the envelope beyond what might seem acceptable."

"Your promises seem empty," Mr. Rowle commented, sharing his wife's cynicism.

"You won't find a better deal," Harry said.

"I think we could just leave the country right now and forget about you and forget about the Dark Lord, too," Mrs. Rowle said. "That's a better option."

Harry arched one of his, or rather, Bellatrix's eyebrows, for dramatic effect. "Let me re-phrase the bargain for you. You can either go to Azkaban after a brief stop in the Ministry holding cells or you can work for me and use the extra time before judgment is passed over you to do some things that might earn you some leniency."

~!~!~!~!~!

Naturally, the Rowles and Scabiors both agreed to Harry's terms. After that, it took about an hour for James to work out a way for them to add any fellow Death Eaters to the map without actually having the map. James then taught them his process, Harry put the Imperius Curse on all four of the prisoners, and Lily memory charmed them.

The two couples would go about their business, adding Death Eaters to Harry's map without even realizing what they were doing or why. After they had done as many as it seemed they would be able to, Harry would go to them, collect them, and arrange for them to sit out the war in seclusion. Once the war ended, they would be handed to the Ministry along with a glowing letter of recommendation from Harry—or some such.

After their work was completed, Harry and the Potters separated. The Potters presumably went home and to bed. Harry went on the prowl in Diagon Alley, pausing only once from the routine for a few minutes to change his clothes once the Polyjuice potion wore off. Finding no activity during the balance of the night, Harry travelled to the hangar where he and Bellatrix were wont to practice dueling. After a thorough magic workout, Harry headed home and found Bellatrix waiting for him in their bed.

"Productive night?" Bellatrix asked from where she sat against the headboard.

"You could say that," Harry said as he launched into a full explanation.

Bellatrix listened quietly, a thoughtful expression on her face. When Harry finished, she responded. "The Scabiors and Rowles do not hold any Wizengamot seats," Bellatrix mused. "But, the fact that Death Eaters are holding unauthorized meetings bodes well."

"I wouldn't think any Death Eaters would be holding Wizengamot seats," Harry said as he removed his clothes and put them along with the clothes he had borrowed from Bellatrix in the laundry hamper. "And what precisely do these unauthorized Death Eater meetings bode?"

Bellatrix lifted the covers for Harry as he slipped into bed next to her. "You'd be surprised about the Wizengamot," Bellatrix said. "A lot of placement on that body is based on life tenure. If you are a pureblood or at least connected to a pureblood family, you are a permissible appointee when a vacancy occurs. If you happen to have enough money and influence or are tied to somebody with money and influence, you might be appointed to the Wizengamot. You then remain on the Wizengamot for life unless you are removed for bad behavior. There are plenty of minor Death Eaters or Death Eater sympathizers that have managed to cling to their Wizengamot seats."

"I would have thought that Minister Prewitt would be more thorough than that," Harry commented, feeling distinctly annoyed to discover that low-ranking Death Eaters probably represented a sizeable portion of the Wizengamot.

"Purging the Ministry employees is one thing," Bellatrix said, "cleaning out the Wizengamot is quite another. I am quite sure that any Death Eater group in the Wizengamot represents only a minority."

"Yeah, well I found out tonight that there is a Death Eater auror," Harry grumbled.

"Who is it, and what are you going to do about it?" Bellatrix asked.

"Barty Crouch, Jr.," Harry answered. "He was a Death Eater in my future. I imagine he's one here. As for what I'm going to do, I don't know yet."

"Not everybody who was a Death Eater in your future is one now," Bellatrix reminded Harry quietly.

"I am well aware of that," Harry said, reaching out his arm and wrapping it around her waist.

They sat silently for several minutes, enjoying each other's company. Harry eventually broke the silence, however. "I bet you want a seat on the Wizengamot," he said.

"Want is a strong word," Bellatrix replied. "I do not necessarily want a Wizengamot seat. Rather, I need a Wizengamot seat to get what I want, I think."

"That means there is going to have to be a vacancy soon," Harry said.

"Yes," Bellatrix agreed.

Harry smiled to himself as he thought of Bellatrix's ambition. "I wouldn't mind removing a Death Eater from the Wizengamot."

"A Death Eater generally would be a good candidate for removal," Bellatrix agreed. "There are additional things to consider in making such a decision, though."

"Quite," Harry said, beginning to not want to be completely informed regarding Bellatrix's political machinations.

"Yes, quite," Bellatrix agreed. "As soon as you can, Harry, have the Ghost of Ashworth do something big—something that Amelia Bones can really play up to the press."

"I'll do my best," Harry said solemnly, hiding a smile.

Once again, silence reigned as Harry and Bellatrix sat in their bed, both leaning against the headboard and Harry with his arm wrapped around Bellatrix's waist. Suddenly, Bellatrix scooted a lot closer to Harry. She swung her legs over his lap began kissing him. Harry gladly reciprocated.

~!~!~!~!~!

"Those were indeed bold promises," Professor Dumbledore said, agreeing with James and Lily early the next morning. "I think though, that they demonstrate a fair amount of wisdom on Mrs. Black's part."

"Wisdom?" James scoffed. "She promised Ministry leniency when she could have just slapped on the Imperius curse and been done. And, let's not forget that she was making promises based on powers she doesn't have."

"The strange thing was that she bargained instead of using the Imperius curse outright," Lily commented.

"Yes, that does seem out of character for Mrs. Black," Dumbledore agreed. "But, James, it doesn't seem unreasonable that the Wizengamot and Ministry would find leniency for Death Eaters who cooperated in helping end the war. The most encouraging thing I see is that Mrs. Black is not only taking steps to end the war but seems to be thinking about rebuilding."

"Rebuilding?" Lily asked.

"Requiring reparations rather than punishment for the sake of punishment," Dumbledore said.

"Bah," James scoffed, "she was just saying what she had to say to get those Death Eaters to do what she wanted."

"And when it works, perhaps she will continue to sing the same song," Dumbledore declared. "After all, that is the difference between a good politician and a bad politician."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James retorted.

"Time will tell, I think," Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes twinkling from behind his glasses.

~!~!~!~!~!

"What precisely are you planning on doing?" Petunia demanded as her sister, Lily, and her husband, James, wandered about the Dursley residence on 4 Privet Drive.

"We're going to put some wards up so that the next time somebody decides to prank you, we'll be able to nab them," Lily said.

"Wards? What are wards? I do not want a bunch of magic things staying around here. They could be dangerous." Petunia said shrilly.

"You won't even know they're here," James groused. "Maybe you could even show a little gratitude."

Petunia did not say anything, but followed Lily around, noticeably cringing as Lily drew her wand and started muttering strange things. Lily's efforts were interrupted, however, when James suddenly let out an exclamation from where he had been standing near the front window.

"Merlin's beard!"

"What is it?" Lily demanded, ceasing from casting the spells as she looked in James's direction.

"It's Draco Malfoy!"

Lily rushed to the front window with Petunia on her tail. "It is!" Lily confirmed, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Oh my word!" Petunia exclaimed, after having joined James and Lily at the window. "That delinquent and his little friend are trying to force a filthy lawn mower into the boot of his aunt's brand new BMW! Somebody stop him!"

"His aunt?" Lily asked, her voice now a deadly calm.

"A wonderful woman," Petunia declared. "Eminently respectable. To think that she would have to be saddled with that ungrateful lout of a nephew. It makes me sick."

"What is her name?" Lily said quietly.

"Trixie White," Petunia answered, still focused on watching Draco and his friend secure the lawn mower in the trunk of the BMW.

"Trixie White? Really?" Lily said, sounding quite outraged.

"That is her name," Petunia confirmed as the three watched Draco and his friend hop into the BMW, back it out of the driveway, zoom down the street, swerving left and right in order to miss as many mailboxes as they did.

"That's one bad driver," James commented. "We should do something to get him off the street."

"Hang Malfoy!" Lily said. "It's Bellatrix I want."

~!~!~!~!~!

The mists of time, prophecy, and charlatans swirled in the crystal ball against which Rose had her face squished. Wishing that her nose was less well-defined, Rose tried to get one or both of her eyes as close to the surface of the ball as she could. Deep in the fog, Rose thought she could see a duel. The fact that spellfire was being exchanged was clear to her, but the duelists themselves faded into the fog as if they were the ghosts of ghosts.

Suddenly, above the duel, near the top of the crystal ball, the Dark Mark appeared . . . sort of. It was vague enough that only someone who had seen it in real life would identify it in the mists—kind of like seeing animals while cloud watching. The Dark Mark expanded, and Rose flicked her gaze down to the duel to discover that all but one of the duelists had disappeared. Within seconds, the Dark Mark had grown to fill the crystal ball, pushing the prior scene away. Suddenly, a lightning bolt seemed to explode in the midst of the crystal ball, and the Dark Mark died . . . sort of. It was still there.

Abruptly, the comforter covering Rose and her bed was stripped away, leaving Rose crouched on her bed and looking rather silly in faint light of the early morning.

"Gazing in your crystal ball?" Sidra demanded, dropping the edge of the comforter and allowing it to fall off the end of the bed.

"No, I was sucking on it," Rose retorted.

"Isn't that one of the school crystal balls? Stealing from Trelawney are we?" Sidra said.

"A great seer such as herself knows precisely where the ball is. Obviously, she didn't mind me borrowing it," Rose said.

"Fun," Sidra said. "We're late, and Leo and Hermione won't leave without you."

"I'm coming," Rose said, sliding off her bed. "I was ready before I got slightly distracted." She grabbed her wand from her bedside table and followed Sidra out of her dorm and down the Gryffindor common room where Hermione, Ron, Leo, and Ginny were waiting.

"Everything all right?" Leo asked.

"Pretty much," Rose said to him quietly as Hermione excitedly led the procession out of the common room and into the hall. "I was looking into the crystal ball."

"Did you see anything important?" Leo asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Yes, but none of it made any sense," Rose said. She then quickly recounted what she had seen.

"A lightning bolt, eh?" Leo said. "I bet it has to do with that scar on Harry's forehead."

"Scar?" Rose asked.

"Yeah," Leo said. "Harry has a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. It's not too easy to see what with it being not very pronounced. The way he keeps his hair doesn't help either."

"Have you ever asked him about it?" Rose inquired.

"No," Leo said. "I reckon he's been in enough fights that he came by it naturally."

"Quite," Rose said.

"What are you two talking about?" Ginny yawned. She had noticed Rose and Leo falling behind and had slowed up for them.

"Harry's past," Rose replied. "He said something to us a while back that got Leo and me wondering."

"What was it?" Ginny asked.

"He basically implied that he's been fighting this war longer than we can possibly know." Leo said. "We were hoping that Rose might be able to take a peek into the past and see something. It hasn't been working too well."

"Sounds like it might have worked pretty well this morning," Ginny said pointedly.

"Well," Rose said slowly, "I think I could safely say that he's fought in a lot more duel or battles than are actually on the record."

"Ahem," Hermione said from where the rest of the group had stopped in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

"What?" Rose asked.

"We're already late enough. We should go in," Ron said for Hermione.

"So go on in," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"Leo knows Harry better than I," Hermione said.

"Oh, please," Rose said bitingly as she strode forward, opened the door, and walked inside, followed by the rest of her comrades.

Inside, they found an "open air" dueling arena. Rather than the normal platform for a formal one-on-one duel, the room was strewn with portions of wall, rubble, fake trees, and other obstacles.

"Oh, Merlin," Leo groaned. "I can't ever catch sight of him in an empty room during a duel."

"Unfortunately for you, this is closer to reality," came a voice.

The students all looked up and found somebody who appeared to be Bellatrix Black standing atop one of the walls. It was probably Harry using Polyjuice. Rose's eyes flickered to the boots. According to Leo, low heels marked Harry.

"Yeah, Death Eaters lure their victims to obstacle courses before killing them," Sidra said sarcastically.

The friendly smile that graced Bellatrix's face was definitely not a genuine Bellatrix characteristic. "This is the last time until school starts again that we'll be using this room. Perhaps my wife will find us a genuine house we can practice in."

"So, let's get started," Ron said, breaking his normal routine and smoothing a Sidra situation over. According to Hermione and Ginny, he had been eager to learn some of the stuff that Leo had been learning.

"Not quite yet," Harry said. He withdrew a Rubik's cube from his pocket and tossed it to Hermione. "The activation word is 'silver.' It will take you and only you to our front doorstep. Bellatrix says she wants you to visit every night at ten beginning tonight. Incidentally, you have my permission to enter the apartment. Bellatrix has also given you permission."

"Dual blood wards, is it?" Hermione said thoughtfully, as she eyed the cube closely and her friends looked on with varying degrees of interest. "But, ten at night?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "That's just the way it is. Our schedule might change a bit after a while. But for now, you'll just have to count on being nocturnal."

Hermione giggled.

"What?" Ron asked, confused.

"I was just thinking about what my parents would say, but then I realized I am now an adult and am graduated from school." Hermione said. "Though I can't quite afford my own place, yet."

"Terrific," Sidra said. "Any other delays?"

"Nope," Harry said. "Let's get down to business. Since for all of you but Leo, this is your first time in a formal training session with me, I'd like to get to know your skillsets better." He gestured toward the back of the room, which seemed a lot farther away than normal and had been obscured by all of the obstacles. "I've placed a number of 'flags' down at the far end. Your task is to fetch one back here."

"As a team?" Ron asked, sounding intrigued.

Harry shrugged Bellatrix's shoulders. "Teams or individuals. I want to see what you'll do—whether you opt for a team or not and how you do on your own or in the team. Leo will have to be alone, though. I'll be harder on him because this is a training exercise for him rather than an evaluation."

"So you're going to be fighting us then?" Ginny concluded.

"Yes, my job is to stop you from getting a flag to this side of the room," Harry said.

"What does the winning team get?" Sidra inquired.

"You won't beat him," Leo said with a smile.

Harry also smiled as his image faded away and left the teens alone.

"Want to be a team?" Rose asked Ginny.

"Sure," Ginny said, watching as Leo used his non-wand arm to cast a sticking charm on the hand that he would be using to hold his wand.

"I think we should do likewise," Rose said, anticipating Ginny's question as Sidra stalked off into the obstacle course alone and was soon trailed by Ron and Hermione who had apparently decided to pair with each other rather than go it alone.

"What will happen if we don't?" Ginny asked.

Leo grinned at Ginny and Rose. "Your wand could slip away in the dark. Hurry, though. It's safer for everyone if there are more teams to divide Harry's focus."

~!~!~!~!~!

That night, at ten sharp, Hermione rapped on the front door of Harry and Bellatrix's flat. In short order, the door opened to reveal Harry, sans Polyjuice, smiling at her. "Welcome to our flat," he said.

Hermione stepped in and looked around curiously as Harry shut the door. "Your furnishings seem slightly more Muggle than I would have expected for your wife's tastes."

"When it comes to furniture, it's the money that counts in her eyes," Harry said, still smiling. "How was your train ride home?"

"Uneventful," Hermione said. "Sidra sulked the whole way home, though.

"She didn't really think she'd get a flag and make it all the way back, did she?" Harry asked, grinning crookedly as he led Hermione to the back of the apartment and up the stairs toward Bellatrix's lab.

"Probably not," Hermione said as she eyed every detail of the apartment. "But, she wasn't expecting to lose her wand and be chased mercilessly through an ever-changing landscape."

"I was trying to see what she'd do without a wand. I'm afraid she'd be in trouble."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said. "I get the feeling you're sympathetic to Rose's camp."

Harry shook his head as they reached the top of the staircase, entered Bellatrix's lab, and stopped for a moment. "I don't like Sidra or Rose better than the other at this point. And, I don't see camps. I see individual friendships. I'm rather fond of Leo, and I hope to get to know you and Ron better. You two didn't do too badly this morning, you know."

Hermione blushed. "You whipped us pretty good," she said.

"You would have done well against the average Death Eater with Ron's strategy and your clever use of spells," Harry said.

"I think you're too kind," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged and then pointed to the other side of the lab. "She usually camps over there. Give the tables a wide berth . . . especially the empty ones."

"Not staying?" Hermione said.

"I got other things that need doing," Harry said. He exited the lab and left Hermione to face Bellatrix alone.

Staring at the tables—especially the ones with parchment and ancient tomes—Hermione made her way across the room to find Bellatrix seated in a chair, a composition notebook of parchment open on her lap and a self-inking quill at hand.

"I'm here," Hermione announced.

"So I heard," Bellatrix said, all but ignoring Hermione. Eventually, she lifted the book up, blew on the page to dry the ink, and then shut it. "We need to locate the last horcruxes sooner than later. To that end, I am suspending our formal lessons. I will give you reading assignments, but your interactions with me will focus on the project at hand. If you're especially quick and do a lot of background reading, you just might learn by doing."

"All right," Hermione said, not particularly pleased. Bellatrix's methods seemed awfully like Snape's teaching methods. On the other hand, they were working on a real project to find answers unknown to even the experts.

Bellatrix stood and walked to one of the walls of the room. Using her wand, she revealed several blackboards. They were all blank, save for one that had three Arithmancy formulas scrawled on it. Bellatrix pointed to one of them. "This is the spell I want to cast on the horcruxes . . . sort of."

Hermione looked at it. "Some sort of mind altering curse?"

"Close," Bellatrix said. "It's a homegrown version of the Imperius curse."

"Have you tested it yet?" Hermione asked.

"Not precisely," Bellatrix confessed, "but it seems to work on parchment." She pointed to the next equation. "That's the defense mechanism on the horcruxes. We need to find a way to neutralize or bypass it with the first spell. Then the last equation is the horcrux itself. When you mix the third equation with the first, the desired effect will allegedly occur. The second equation is in the way, however."

"All right then," Hermione said as she eyeballed the complicated formulas and wondered how it was that a student fresh out of Hogwarts was supposed to make the jump between NEWT-level coursework and this complicated mess of Arithmancy and unfamiliar Runes.

"For the sake of foundation, I will show you how the first and third equations interact," Bellatrix said, slipping into a teaching role despite her declaration that there would be no formal lessons. "Then, I will want you to duplicate the process from memory. Think of it as a test."

"Okay," Hermione said.

Bellatrix picked up a piece of chalk. "Watch very carefully," she said. "All three of these spells are Dark. That causes the rules of Arithmancy to change slightly. We'll also be dealing with Arithmancy concepts you did not cover in class."

~!~!~!~!~!

Disguised as a mild-mannered office worker fresh off the job for the day, Harry wandered through Diagon Alley for a while before stepping into the Weasley twins' joke shop. Harry nodded to whatever twin it was standing at the counter and proceeded to browse, smiling every here and there at the familiar Weasley creation. After he had been at this for about five minutes, Harry heard the door to the shop open and a pair of familiar voices.

"You ever been here? It's my brothers' shop, you know," echoed Ron's voice.

"Yeah, it's my dad's favorite shop," Leo said.

"I would try to get you a discount, but not even I can get one from them," Ron said, sounding a bit sulky.

"Uh-huh," Leo said, clearly not focused on the conversation.

Harry grabbed a box of assorted "treats" and headed to the counter to make his purchase, nodding to Leo and Ron ever so slightly. Fred, or perhaps George, rang Harry up, and soon, Harry was out on the street, headed in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Not long after, Leo and Ron emerged from the shop. They followed Harry down Knockturn Alley a bit and then into a dark corner.

"Harry?" Leo said quietly, looking at Harry's disguise with suspicion.

"Yep, it's me," Harry said, drawing his wand and using it to shrink his purchase and tuck it away in his robes.

"That was pretty smooth," Ron said. "I doubt the twins suspected a thing."

"No reason why they should," Harry said. "I take it your parents won't be worried, will they?"

"As long as we have a good story for what we supposedly were doing, we should be fine," Leo said. "We've already got that covered."

"If this goes past midnight, we'll have to figure something out, though," Ron said. "My mom will be suspicious enough as it is, even if I do say I was at Leo's house."

"You could say you were having a sleepover at Bellatrix's house," Leo snickered.

Harry smiled. "I might be able to get Bella to corroborate."

"That would go over great," Ron remarked with a mischievous grin. "My mum is grateful for what your wife supposedly did, Harry. But, she does suspect that she might be a scarlet woman."

"I think Bella would find some sort of a perverse delight if you mum held that view," Harry commented

"Speaking of your wife and perverse pleasures," Leo said, "she'd better watch out. I hear that Mrs. Potter is on the warpath."

"Oh?" Harry said.

"Apparently Bellatrix has been pulling pranks on Mrs. Potter's sister," Leo said. "My dad and Mr. Potter think it is hilarious, but Mrs. Potter isn't amused. You should warn your wife."

"I'll mention it," Harry said, hiding a grin.

"Why would your wife be pulling pranks on some Muggle?" Ron said, frowning.

"My wife and Lily have an interesting relationship," Harry said, knowing full well that this was only a part of the true explanation and failing to mention that he had himself had performed some of the pranks in question.

"So what are we doing, and why are we the only two who get to come along?" Leo asked.

Harry used his wand to transform his clothes from robes into a more Muggle style. "I thought we might try to terrorize some Death Eaters. I asked you two specifically because I only have two spare brooms and because you two are the best at fighting." He removed two miniature brooms from one of his pockets and handed one to each to Ron and Leo. "I think we'll camp at a Muggle pub while we wait for an opportune moment to get to business. That way, you'll have a cover story for where you were, and we'll be able to slip out without anybody there wondering why."

"A Firebolt!" Ron exclaimed as he eyed the broom Harry had handed him.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I bought it for Bella, but I've since realized that she'll probably never use it."

"Wicked," Ron said as he admired the broom and with Leo followed Harry out of Knockturn Alley, up Diagon Alley, and out the front of the Leaky Cauldron.

~!~!~!~!~!

Maintaining only a few feet between themselves and the ground, Harry, Leo, and Ron sped across a moor on their broomsticks. After only a few hours in the Muggle pub, the map provided by Amelia Bones and since enhanced by the efforts of the Scabiors and Rowles over the past while had revealed that about fifteen Death Eaters had gathered in an isolated location. They had since moved their activities to a small dwelling just outside of a small English town.

"That's a nifty map!" Leo called out, having to speak up because of the wind whipping past the trio. "Where did you get it?"

"A friend thought it might be useful for me," Harry replied, also in a loud voice. "Up until now, I've been randomly patrolling and hoping to find attacks happening or about to happen. With the exception of the Burrow, I've never been able to do anything about wizard dwellings. They're too spread out for me to patrol."

"We could help you do this every night," Ron declared.

"We'll see how this goes," Harry said, not committing to anything. "We're getting close, now. When I give the signal, you two separate from me and watch from afar for opportunities to do the spells I told you about. After casting any spell, change location. When it's over, do not reveal yourselves to anybody at all unless I give the all clear signal—even if you see me wandering around in the open."

"Yeah, you already told us that," Ron said.

After a few more seconds, Harry and his partners could hear the faint sound of spellfire and the loud, raucous laughter of Death Eaters. A few seconds beyond that put them within sight of the spectacle itself. Harry signaled Leo and Ron to halt as he surveyed the scene.

The Death Eaters seemed to have targeted the dwelling of a magical family. The house, while not overly tall like the Burrow, still had the look of being supported here and there by the grace of magical spells rather than the hard science of Muggle architecture.

From the magic in the air, Harry could see evidence of wards that the Death Eaters had forcefully breached within the past few minutes. Harry was happy to see the remains of wards. The necessity of spotting the Death Eater activity on the map and then having to find a way to get to the location quickly and without detection had delayed Harry, but the necessity of breaching the wards had also delayed the Death Eaters, though it seemed they had made some progress beyond that. Three people had been dragged to the front yard. The wizard of the house was either unconscious or incapacitated. His wife and daughter were still conscious and being tormented by the dozen or so Death Eaters.

Suppressing his urge to lash out immediately, Harry signaled Ron and Leo to break off. Harry himself used his broom to zoom straight up into the air. Once he reached a goodly height, Harry leveled off the broom and drew his phoenix-feather wand and one of his Wandel wands.

First, he cast his own anti-apparition and anti-portkey spells so that the Death Eaters would not be able to escape. Then, breaking from the tradition of using his phoenix-feather wand to do the image projection spell, Harry cast Bellatrix's version of the Ghost of Ashworth spell with his Wandel wand so that it appeared a small distance away from where the Death Eaters were having their sport.

The effect was immediate. But, instead of the Death Eaters noticing the ghost spell first, it was the wife below. "Save us, Professor Ashworth," she shrieked just loud enough for Harry to make out what she had said.

The Death Eaters turned, saw what had become known as the Ghost of Ashworth, and began cursing as they debated whether to continue with their assignment or run for their lives.

"Not very smart, are you?" Harry mused quietly as he wondered why they did not attempt to escape the scene immediately, given what the "ghost" had done to other Death Eaters. Using his primary wand, Harry conjured a thick fog and sent it streaming below so that to those on the ground, it appeared to be coming from the ghost and then surrounding the area. Soon, the fog completely surrounded the Death Eaters and their victims, and Harry took the opportunity to fly down and take a position in the fog near the ground—but not near the ghostly apparition.

Ron and Leo had apparently determined that the fog was the appropriate time to begin the work Harry had assigned them. Thunder sounded from spells the two had cast. This contributed to the Death Eaters' terror, and Harry smirked as they began to try to escape. Were it not for the victims being among the Death Eaters, Harry would have resorted to the lightning bolts for which he had developed a fondness.

But, this time, capturing Death Eaters and preserving the victims' lives was priority, so Harry pushed the fog closer in to the Death Eaters. As magical thunder sounded again, Harry flew a bit higher and into the fog, cast a sight enhancement spell on his eyes, and began stalking the Death Eaters from above.

~!~!~!~!~!

"This is so wicked!" Ron breathed to Leo as they quietly flew in the dark around the boundary wall of the fog Harry had conjured.

"What do you suppose he's doing?" Leo asked, frowning at the fog.

"Looks like he's resorted to taking them out one by one. Too bad we can't go in and cast a few stunners ourselves."

"I'd be too nervous about Harry mistaking me for a Death Eater," Leo said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "We should watch for any Death Eaters that try to run out of the fog."

"Good idea," Leo agreed. "I'll fly around to the other side and keep watch there and maybe do some more of those thunder spells."

"All right," Ron said, watching as Leo flew off. Ron then flew away from the fog a bit so that he would have a better view.

~!~!~!~!~!

Emma Dobbs could not move because of the magical ropes that had bound her arms and legs, but she could see the fog that had enveloped the front yard of her family's house. With wide eyes, she watched the Death Eaters that has been abusing her as they scattered and tried to escape the Dobbs residence. They ran in complete disorder, yet they all scrupulously avoided running toward the ghost.

Visible even through the fog was the apparition recognized by the magical population as the Ghost of Ashworth. Though the ropes binding her made it difficult, Emma did her best to stare at the ghost. The ghost itself was a popular topic of discussion at Hogwarts. None of the students had known Harry Ashworth, of course, but his supposed widow had taught two dueling classes. Bellatrix Black's aura of power and mystery had sparked the imaginations of most Hogwarts students, and that interest had stretched to the Ghost of Ashworth.

Abruptly, a Death Eater screamed in the fog. The scream was cut short, perhaps by a stunner or even a killing curse. In response, the eyes of the ghost flared orange as if it had just fed on the Death Eater, and thunder sounded close by. The flame in the eyes of the ghost died out, and it began to drift to and fro, almost fading into the fog as Death Eaters continued to search for a way to escape.

"Don't leave us!" Emma heard her mother scream from where the Death Eaters had tied her down.

Her parents viewed the Ghost of Ashworth differently than the younger generation. Mrs. Dobbs had been a Muggleborn student at the time Harry Ashworth had taught Potions. None of his students had doubted that Professor Ashworth was a nice man. But, he had not been special, either. At least, not until his ghost had appeared in the past months and started terrorizing Death Eaters. That had sparked conversation and reminiscences about the past. The smallest memorized fact about Harry Ashworth suddenly became significant . . . even a sign that he had known secrets or that he was very powerful or that the Dark Lord had feared him.

Another scream was cut short in the fog. The ghost was now difficult to see, but Emma thought she had seen some orange light in the fog from the ghost's eyes flaring.

Suddenly, one of the Death Eaters decided to take a hostage. Leaping out of the fog, the Death Eater grabbed Emma roughly and dragged her against the wall of the house. He jerked her to her feet and placed her in front of him. Emma wondered whether using her as a human shield was worth the bother. After all, it was a ghost allegedly attacking them.

The fog nearest to Emma and the Death Eater began to thicken noticeably and drift toward them. Emma began to hope that something was going to happen to the Death Eater holding her. The Death Eater himself was apparently expecting something. He was holding Emma so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat accelerate.

With lightning speed, somebody or something flew out of the fog. Emma and the Death Eater screamed as the dark figure zoomed toward them. An explosion of red magic blinded Emma and silenced the Death Eater. Emma continued to scream as the unconscious Death Eater, who was still holding her, toppled to the ground with her beneath him.

~!~!~!~!~!

Light flared, waking Amelia Bones. Gasping, she sat up in her bed, clutching her bedsheets to herself. Surely, her wards had not failed in the face of a Death Eater attack without waking her first. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see standing in her bedroom a ghostly figure. Gaping at it, she quickly figured that it must be the Ghost of Ashworth.

"What is it?" she asked, wondering whether Bellatrix or whoever was controlling it could hear her.

"Send Aurors to the Dobbs house and a couple of Mediwizards, too," rasped the ghost's voice.

"Which Dobbs?" Amelia asked. But, it was too late. The ghost had disappeared.

Cursing, Amelia scrambled out of bed and grabbed her Auror uniform.

~!~!~!~!~!

"At approximately 11:37 last night, I received an anonymous tip that the Aurors were needed at the Dobbs residence," Amelia explained to the members of the press gathered in the Ministry atrium near the central statute. "I immediately gathered a response team and travelled to the Dobbs residence to discover that an unknown assailant or assailants had rendered unconscious fifteen Death Eaters who had been attacking the Dobbs family. Those Death Eaters are now in custody. The members of the Dobbs family are expected to make a full recovery."

"The Ghost of Ashworth was responsible, was he not?" inquired one reporter, who Amelia thought represented the Daily Prophet.

"Mrs. Dobbs and her daughter have reported that they saw somebody or something that they describe as the Ghost of Ashworth," Amelia admitted.

"These Ghost of Ashworth occurrences are becoming more frequent. Some have opined that such occurrences are the product of a covert Ministry program. Do you have a comment on that?" the Daily Prophet reporter demanded.

"I can offer you no official explanation concerning the frequent occurrence of the Ashworth incidents." Amelia said, leaving the question unresolved. With any luck, the reporters might believe that what had happened was the result of an official Ministry program under Amelia's leadership.

"Has the Ministry consulted Bellatrix Black concerning these occurrences?" a reporter from one of the wizard wireless stations asked. "There are rumors that she was married to Harry Ashworth, and that she has been seen in public during the last few months."

"The Ministry has not directed official queries her way," Amelia said, trying to think of a strategy for this line of questioning.

"That seems pretty lax of you," said a reporter from Witch Weekly. "After all, we're talking about the ghost of her husband. And, we're not talking about just any hapless widow. We are talking about Bellatrix Black, daughter of the late Minister Black. She is a pureblood, and by all reports from her former classmates, her magical skills are formidable. Have you considered that maybe she's your vigilante?"

"I have better things to do than chase vigilantes," Amelia said, now on the defensive. "Wouldn't you prefer that I chase Death Eaters?"

The reporters paused for a moment to consider this. Before they could resume, flames from one of the Ministry entrance fireplaces flared and out walked Bellatrix Black, who proceeded to stride toward the entrance guard's desk to have her wand checked prior to entering the Ministry offices.

"Ms. Black!" called the Witch Weekly reporter. "Ms. Black! Do you have a comment on the recent Ghost of Ashworth incident or any other prior incidents?"

Bellatrix paused long enough to glance at the Witch Weekly reporter and all the other reporters who, while still gathered around Amelia's podium, were staring at Bellatrix. "I am sorry," she said, "but I have an urgent meeting with Minister Prewitt."

~!~!~!~!~!

After surrendering her wand at yet another security desk set up on the Minister's floor and submitting to various identity tests and enchantment tests, an Auror escorted Bellatrix into Minister Prewitt's office. The Minister sat in his desk, flanked by two Auror bodyguards and surrounded by portraits of various people, some of whom Bellatrix recognized—particularly her father. The Minister did not stand from his chair and greeted Bellatrix rather curtly.

"Ms. Black," he said.

"Minister," Bellatrix said politely, nodding her head and helping herself to one of the seats in front of Prewitt's desk, "what can I do for you?"

The Minister of Magic glared at Bellatrix for at least a minute. Finally, he gestured at his bodyguards. "Leave us," he said.

"I don't advise that," one said. "Ms. Black is an unknown commodity."

"I said I wanted you to leave! I didn't ask you whether you should leave!" Prewitt barked, his rage at being questioned causing him to tremble visibly.

The Aurors left, leaving Prewitt and Bellatrix to stare at each other while Prewitt regained his composure and his breath.

"You know why I summoned you here this morning," Prewitt said.

"Maybe I do, maybe I do not," Bellatrix said. "Would it not be better to put it out on the table?"

"Very well," Prewitt said, now all false kindness. "This Ghost of Ashworth nonsense has been going on. And now, Amelia Bones is downstairs holding a press conference after having captured fifteen Death Eaters in a single night, thanks to the Ghost of Ashworth. Why are you two conspiring against me?"

"Conspiring against you? Really?" Bellatrix retorted.

"You're trying to discredit me. You're trying to discredit Director Crouch. Obviously, Bones is trying to make a power grab, and you're helping her."

"So, what if I am?" Bellatrix asked.

"Is Harry Ashworth alive?" Prewitt demanded.

Bellatrix nearly gave a yes or no answer because the question had caught her off guard. However, she was quick enough to parry Prewitt's sudden stab. "Maybe he is, maybe he is not."

"This is a war, Ms. Black," Prewitt said, his voice becoming progressively louder. "The Ministry cannot afford your games. Not at a time like this. If you want to get involved in the war effort, I am happy to have you aboard. And, if Harry Ashworth is alive, I want him on board, too. All of this politics and games and power grabs are unacceptable. Your father would not have tolerated it if he was still Minister."

"I fear you give my father too much credit," Bellatrix said.

"I suppose your father would have had a tough time dealing with you," Prewitt said. "But I reckon your uncle would have set you down hard if you muddled up his plans. He was the power behind the throne, wasn't he?"

"For as long as he lived, anyway," Bellatrix replied, perfectly willing to let him wander off topic. At the very least, it would help him calm down. The way he was getting worked up, Bellatrix wondered if he was going to have a heart attack or something.

"And then Ashworth was the power behind the throne," Prewitt said.

"I think you mean Malfoy," Bellatrix said.

"No, I think it was Ashworth, short as was his reign between the deaths of Orion and Cygnus," Prewitt said.

"I am quite sure you know better than I," Bellatrix conceded, not really sure herself about what would have happened if her father had survived longer.

"What do you want, Ms. Black?" Prewitt said, now seemingly calm. "I'm willing to pay for your help. Anything you can do to . . . control this Ghost of Ashworth. Anything you can do to rally support for me. Any sort of ingenuity you can bring to the table. Surely you realize that had you remained in England during the past years, you would have risen high in the Ministry. We're in this war together, you know."

Bellatrix smiled. Screw you, Amelia. Now, you will rely on my good will, she thought to herself. Deciding that boldness was the best move, she spoke. "I want a seat on the Wizengamot."

"A surprisingly low, but difficult price," Prewitt said slowly. "I can't make a Wizengamot appointment if there is no vacancy. I can put you in my administration, if power is what satisfies you. A special deputy to the Minister, perhaps. Or if you're patient, I could arrange for an undersecretary position."

"A position in your administration lasts only as long as you do," Bellatrix noted. "An appointment to the Wizengamot endures for the remainder of my life. If you want me to function in your administration, it is indeed common practice for Wizengamot members to accept bureaucratic responsibilities."

"I'm not unwilling," Prewitt said. "But as I said, there is no vacancy."

"There will be just as soon as one of the Wizengamot members is exposed as being a Death Eater," Bellatrix said. "Then you can appoint me."

"Only if I have seen some token of your cooperation before then."

"Count on it," Bellatrix said. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"For now, no," Prewitt said, leaning back in his chair and looking quite pleased with himself.

"Very well," Bellatrix said, standing up and moving to leave.

"I suppose Harry Ashworth must be dead," Prewitt said to her back. "I think that he would have kept you on tighter leash if he were alive."

Bellatrix turned around and was quite nearly prepared to retort, but she restrained herself. She smiled at Minister Prewitt and departed, propelling her thoughts forward to the issue of whether she was going to talk to Amelia or not on the way out, perhaps only to ensure that the Auror knew that Bellatrix did not intend to leave her out in the cold. She was too valuable for that.

39. The House of Black Rises

A/N: Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, or any other holiday greeting you prefer, even if only Happy Tuesday Eve. ;)

Chapter 38: The House of Black Rises

Lord Silvere

Evening came, and Harry and Bellatrix were woken not by Bellatrix's alarm clock, but by the sound of a chime that Bellatrix had charmed on the door and connected to the wards. Hermione's frequent visits had led Bellatrix to conclude that it would be nice to have a little more warning than the knock on the door for when they had guests or intruders.

"Your friend is a zealot," Bellatrix mumbled from her spooning position next to Harry. "Doesn't she realize that we're nocturnal?"

"That's just Hermione for you," Harry grunted. "I'm surprised you haven't cooled her ardor yet."

"We need her enthusiasm, or rather, cooperation," Bellatrix said, unwrapping her arm from around Harry, climbing out of bed, and slipping on her bathrobe. "Especially for tonight."

"About to make a breakthrough?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

"The breakthrough has already been made," Bellatrix said as she left the room and walked down the hall to let Hermione into the apartment.

Wondering what Bellatrix had planned for the night, Harry rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom where he began to shower. Not long into his shower, Bellatrix entered the bathroom. "Do you mind?" Harry grumbled as she began her morning ablutions.

"Not at all," Bellatrix said as Harry finished his shower.

"That wasn't what I was asking," Harry mumbled as he toweled himself off and after dressing, left Bellatrix to complete her own morning routine. Harry found some juice in the refrigerator and poured himself a glass. Deciding that he was not in the mood to fry up his own food this once, he opened the freezer and examined Bellatrix's assortment of frozen meals. Opting for a dinner selection even though he technically was having breakfast, he picked a box out of the freezer, removed the plastic tray from within, and slid the tray into the microwave.

While his meal cooked, Harry fetched the Daily Prophet from the living room and proceeded to thumb through it until the microwave timer beeped. Bellatrix stopped by the kitchen to grab a couple of snack bars before proceeding upstairs to work with Hermione.

"As soon as you finish, I need you to come up and assist us," Bellatrix told Harry as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Sure," Harry said, eyeing the Quidditch scores and trying to remember if the Chudley Cannons or any Quidditch team for that matter had been able to play during the season after his seventh year. He supposed it did not matter. It was likely that if they had played, they would have lost, and they were losing now, too.

Satiated by Quidditch scores and his first meal of the day, Harry cleaned up and found his way to where Bellatrix and Hermione were working. From what he could observe, they had been mostly making small talk in Bellatrix's corner while waiting for him. The corner, in addition to Bellatrix's own wingback chair, now featured a chair very much like the armchairs from the Gryffindor common room. Apparently, Hermione had earned enough standing to have her own piece of furniture in Bellatrix's lab. The two witches stood as Harry approached.

"I have concocted a way to discover the location of the remaining horcruxes," Bellatrix said to Harry. "But, you shall have to perform the magic yourself."

"Sounds great," Harry said, drawing his wand and conjuring a red wingback chair for himself and sitting in it.

Hermione and Bellatrix followed suit before Bellatrix continued her explanation. "Tonight, you need to practice Legilimency because that is an important part of the magical process. Hermione has kindly assented to let you practice on her mind."

"But only if you promise not to hurt me or reveal anything you learn to anybody. Not even Bellatrix," Hermione said. She blushed and looked at Bellatrix. "Sorry. It's just that letting Harry in is necessary for the cause, and his knowing my thoughts is unavoidable, but you don't really need to go in."

"I understand," Bellatrix said, seeming to accept Hermione's feelings.

Harry arched one of his eyebrows at Bellatrix. "Necessary, huh?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said smoothly, "you need to practice on a mind that has had no preparation against such invasions. It will be more like the real thing."

"I'm pretty sure Tom is competent at Occlumency," Harry said.

"His Occlumency shields will be irrelevant," Bellatrix said.

Harry frowned and glanced at his watch. "I really need to get going if I'm going to have a chance for a . . . profitable night."

"You will have plenty of time for that project," Bellatrix assured Harry. She then proceeded to explain Legilimency and some of the more subtle nuances associated with casting the spell as Hermione looked on.

Eventually, Harry felt prepared enough to attempt the spell. Looking into Hermione's somewhat naïve eyes, he began practicing. After several attempts, Harry felt his consciousness slip inside of hers, and he began seeing a rapid succession of images beginning with Hermione's arrival at the door of the flat and then in reverse chronological order. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Harry cancelled the spell as soon as he got to her having dinner with her parents.

"Looks like I've got it down," Harry said.

"He definitely saw some of the things I've done this evening," Hermione confirmed.

"Good," said Bellatrix. "Now, the next and final step this evening will be an exercise where you search Hermione's mind for specific memories. Over the course of the past few evenings, I had Hermione hide a number of small objects throughout this room. You will want to focus on discovering how many objects there are, what they are, and where they are."

"I'm not sure how to do that," Harry said, trying to think of a way that he could accomplish what Bellatrix wanted using the instructions she had just given him.

"I am about to tell you," Bellatrix said before launching into a detailed explanation about a number of methods one might use to sort through a person's memories.

The explanation took longer than the initial learning of the mind-reading spell and involved a good bit of give and take as Harry tried to process and remember Bellatrix's instructions. Several times, she required him to repeat the methods back to her, claiming that he only had one shot at Hermione because once he had found the memories, he couldn't practice finding them again.

Finally, Harry declared that he was ready and cast the spell on Hermione. This time, Hermione's mind was different to Harry—she seemed to be resisting his attempts as he scanned hundreds and even thousands of memories. Most of her memories were rather mundane, though there was the occasional tidbit that caused both him and her to blush. Eventually, Harry found the right path, and he had to crack a small smile. Bellatrix had been clever. She had asked Hermione to hide some of the objects before telling Hermione why.

Harry cancelled the spell and rapidly summoned each and every object, displaying a knowledge of where and what and how many had been hidden.

"Well done, Harry," Bellatrix said, rewarding Harry with a smile that reached to her violet eyes. "We shall be able to rehearse the next step of our plan very soon."

"Are you going to let me observe that when you do it?" Hermione inquired.

"Perhaps," Bellatrix said vaguely, apparently not prepared to include Hermione in everything they did as a matter of course. She looked at Harry. "If the rehearsal is successful, it would be . . . irresponsible for us to not carry out the actual performance as soon as possible."

"Of course," Harry agreed.

"The thing is," Bellatrix said giving Hermione a sidelong glance from behind her long, dark hair and then looking at Harry, "once we do it, things are likely to become tense for a bit. It would be good, I think, if you were to find success tonight."

"I suppose I can be more aggressive than usual," Harry said with a small smile, wondering why Bellatrix was trying to be so circumspect around Hermione. Perhaps Bellatrix had sensed that Hermione was uptight about some things.

"I will be waiting for word from you," Bellatrix said, subtly gesturing toward her right hand, which bore one of the Malfoy communication rings.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"I thought the Ghost of Ashworth waited for raids to happen and then struck from the shadows," Ron said as he, Harry, and Leo hovered on Harry's broomsticks in a part of London filled with fancy townhouses. They had found a rooftop area that was not particularly well lit.

"Yeah, well, the Ghost of Ashworth normally doesn't really care about which Death Eaters will be headed to Azkaban as a result of his efforts," Harry said. "This time, Bellatrix has decided that it would be worthwhile to expose somebody on the Wizengamot as being a Death Eater or something else bad."

"Why do that?" Leo asked.

"Clearly, Harry's wife is hoping that she'll get appointed to the Wizengamot," Ron, ever the strategist, said to Leo.

Leo grinned. "I get it. So, who are we going to sacrifice on the altar of Bellatrix's ambition?"

Harry smiled, knowing that Leo's humorous characterization of their mission was spot on. "I have a list of candidates. Bellatrix and I think that most of them are Death Eaters."

"So, whose house is this then?" Ron asked, pointing down to the townhouse that Harry had been observing while Ron and Leo had watched to make sure the coast was clear.

"The name is Umbridge," Harry said.

Leo arched an eyebrow. "My dad has mentioned her as working at the Ministry, but she doesn't sound like the Death Eater type to me."

"She probably isn't," Harry admittedly candidly. "She's worse. With a little bit of luck, I might be able to prove it tonight."

"And if you can't?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "We'll select a real Death Eater from my list."

"Oh, goody," Leo said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The sound of a loud, magical gong shook Amelia Bones from her sleep. Without stopping to think, she leapt from her bed, threw on her Auror robes, and used the fireplace in her room to Floo directly into Auror office's special fireplace. Hastily, she made her way to the command desk. "What is it?" she asked the on-duty coordinating Auror.

"Some sort of Ghost of Ashworth spectacle, Captain," the coordinating Auror said respectfully. "Minister Prewitt and Director Crouch are already on the scene with their personal guards and personnel from other Ministry offices. The situation is under control, but there needs to be an official investigating officer to file a report and take any prisoners into custody. The night captains are otherwise occupied, and you have previous experience with the ghost. I'm sorry to have woken you."

"It's all right," Amelia said as she accepted a portkey from the coordinating Auror. "Feel free to call me in for any sort of Ghost of Ashworth activity."

"If you're that anxious to work extra hours, I'm sure nobody would have objections."

Amelia nodded, her thoughts already racing as she activated the portkey. Why had the ghost not come to her first? How could it be that Minister Prewitt had arrived at the scene before an initial response team from Auror corps? Surely it must have to do with whatever Bellatrix Black had discussed with the Minister.

The portkey took her to the street outside of a London townhouse. Magical orbs lit the entire street while workers from other Ministry departments maintained blockades at the ends of the street and worked to place memory charms on Muggle witnesses. From what Amelia could overhear, the Muggles would be left believing that some sort of gas explosion had occurred. She found the Minister and Director Crouch in front of the townhouse in question. They were surrounded by their guards and a mob composed of news reporters. Amelia managed to elbow in and get close to the guards just as it was announced that Prewitt and Crouch would be taking questions.

"Is this or is this not another Ghost of Ashworth incident, Minister?" demanded a Daily Prophet correspondent.

Minister Prewitt smiled. "The initial emergency call indicated that this was a Ghost of Ashworth incident. However, it now appears to us that the alleged Ashworth sighting was the result of a panicked mind. There is no Ghost of Ashworth involvement here."

"A panicked mind. Really?" the reporter demanded. "This Ghost of Ashworth has been striking willy nilly and now you're claiming that somebody merely saw an illusion? The ghost's existence is practically an established fact!"

"We are not denying the ghost's existence," Director Crouch said. "About an hour ago, the resident of the townhouse, Dolores Umbridge, became the victim of a household accident. In the confusion that followed, Madam Umbridge suspected she was the victim of a Death Eater attack. At some point, she became convinced that she had seen the Ghost of Ashworth and so indicated when she contacted the Ministry for assistance. So, you see, the frequency of the Ghost of Ashworth occurrences led Madam Umbridge to incorrectly assume that this also was another Ghost of Ashworth occurrence."

"Since when does the Minister of Magic and the Director of Magical Law Enforcement respond personally to magical accident situations alongside the reversal squad?" a wireless reporter asked suspiciously, seeming to have accepted the magical accident story and now finding an oddity to the new spin on the situation.

"Director Crouch and I happened to be at the Ministry when the call came in, and knowing Madam Umbridge to be the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, we decided to accompany the initial response team," Prewitt explained. "It is fortunate that we did."

"Yes," Crouch said, suddenly butting in, "while Ministry personnel rescued Madam Umbridge and brought the situation under control, evidence was discovered among her effects that implicate Madam Umbridge in serious . . . misdeeds."

"Such as?" asked the Daily Prophet reporter.

"Suffice it to say that Madam Umbridge has been undermining Minister Prewitt's policy objectives and has been associating with Death Eater sympathizers. Additionally, we have reason to believe that she has used her office to advance Death Eater interests. We also discovered a number of illegal Dark artifacts on the premises," Minister Prewitt declared.

An international correspondent perked up at this. "Is not Madam Umbridge also a member of your Wizengamot?"

"Not any longer," Minister Prewitt said.

"Doesn't she need to be first convicted before you can remove her?" demanded another reporter.

"She has agreed to resign," Prewitt said. "In exchange for a measure of leniency, Madam Umbridge will be cooperating to help us repair many of the things she did wrong. If there is anybody out there who has been victimized by this witch or is aware of anything she has done that could hurt the Ministry or other people, I strongly urge them to come forward immediately."

"Do you believe there are victims?" a reporter inquired.

"Absolutely," Director Crouch said. "If anybody is aware of any misdeeds by her, we need to know what you know. We intend to begin to immediately screen all foreign diplomats that Madam Umbridge appointed or influenced. This cancer will be removed immediately."

"Who will replace Madam Umbridge in her post?" asked the international reporter.

"I'm not prepared to say at the moment," Minister Prewitt replied. "Obviously, I am looking for somebody with diplomatic experience who is unlikely to have been . . . unduly influenced by Madam Umbridge. I should have a name for you within about an hour if the person I have in mind accepts."

"And the Wizengamot vacancy?" another reporter asked.

Minister Prewitt paused. "Well, it so happens that in the past weeks I have been actively recruiting a certain witch for my administration. However, this new Wizengamot vacancy has given me an opportunity to capitalize on this witch's talents in a bigger way. Given her prior willingness to join the administration, I do not think it would be inappropriate to announce that I intend to appoint Bellatrix Black to fill Madam Umbridge's seat on the Wizengamot. Madam Black is powerful and talented. Her own father is a martyr of the war we are fighting. I am confident that she will prove to be a powerful influence for good. And, I think I can fairly say that her acceptance of the appointment is a foregone conclusion."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Amelia sighed as she used her fork to poke at her breakfast. Rather than go home and fetch her subscription copy of the Daily Prophet, she had purchased a copy in Diagon Alley before making her way to the Leaky Cauldron and ordering breakfast.

The front page screamed that the Ministry had arrested Madam Umbridge and very well might prosecute her for treason. A small square on the bottom right of the page announced that Minister Prewitt had recalled Andrew Foxe from his exile as the Ministry's ambassador to the U.S. Department of Magic. He would be Umbridge's replacement.

Foxe had been demoted from being Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when Minister Black had assumed power. It had seemed a black mark on his record then. Now, it was a sterling recommendation and badge of honor. Minister Black had trusted Andrew Foxe, and Minister Prewitt, who had replaced Foxe in the DMLE, could say that Foxe ran an honest ship.

Then, of course, the entire second page of the newspaper was devoted to Bellatrix Black's appointment to the Wizengamot. Nothing there was new to anybody, except for news of the appointment, of course.

"I really ought to send them a good stock photo of myself," came Bellatrix's voice.

Amelia lowered the newspaper and watched as Bellatrix sat down at her table. "So, the great Madam Black has seen fit to respond to my request for a meeting."

"Why would I not?" Bellatrix said, leaning back in the chair. "It was you that originally implied that we should keep our distance."

"I would have kept my promises," Amelia said. "The Ghost of Ashworth would have done a great good, I would have been able to lift myself to a position where I could help move this war forward and out of its stagnation, and you would have gotten your precious Wizengamot seat."

Tom came over to take Bellatrix's order, but she motioned him away. When he was gone, she responded to Amelia. "Prewitt contacted me and practically threw the seat in my hands. The price was relatively small. The Ghost of Ashworth merely must avoid undermining Minister Prewitt's authority."

"Nice bargain."

"It is a nice bargain," Bellatrix agreed. "And, it does not have to hurt you. In about a week or two, I will return the map to you. On it, you will find the many Death Eaters being tracked. From there, you will be able to wage war against those Death Eaters whenever they start a raid. I will even do my best to provide assistance for you in exploiting the map, but the alleged Ghost of Ashworth cannot be overly involved unless you are okay with supporting Minister Prewitt. Eventually, you will be the star auror, and I will be waiting in the wings to advocate on your behalf if and when advancement opportunities arise. You cannot find a fairer situation than that. After all, it is what you offered me. So, what do you say?"

"Fair enough," Amelia said, seeing for the first time that morning that her ambitions were still mostly intact.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix and the night arrived almost simultaneously on Privet Drive. She was standing in the driveway of #2 examining her BMW when Lily Potter almost literally popped out of one of the bushes marking the boundary between #2 and #4.

"How are you this evening, Mrs. White?" Lily said in a rather accusing tone of voice.

"Fine, thank you," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand and using it to cast several minor repair charms on the BMW. "I was wondering when you were going to come visit me."

"Who told you that I was on to you?" Lily demanded.

Bellatrix shrugged as she looked at Lily with a small smile. "Word gets around. Would you like to come in?"

"I suppose," Lily said.

Bellatrix led Lily into the house. It was a mess. Bellatrix sighed.

"Your nephew isn't about to win any awards for good housekeeping," Lily commented.

Bellatrix nodded in agreement and cast several cleaning charms to clear enough space for her and Lily to sit comfortably. "I never expected him to be tidy. Mostly, I am impressed that he has managed to keep himself alive."

"So, you don't actually live here," Lily deduced.

"Err, no," Bellatrix said as she took a seat on the couch and motioned for Lily to help herself to a chair.

"So, then, why do you own this house, and why are harassing my sister and her family?" Lily inquired rather pointedly.

Bellatrix smiled winsomely. "I needed a small house in which to keep to Draco and any other potential detainees. When I moved in, lo and behold, your sister showed up on my doorstep to welcome me to the neighborhood."

"And you've repaid her kindness handsomely," Lily said.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. She is a singularly unpleasant person who deserves to have a little harmless fun in her life. Besides, think of how your relationship with her has improved. You have rescued her from some of these incidents like a proper sister. You have probably interacted with her more in the past month than you interacted with her in the past five years. I gave you an opportunity, Lily. And, let us not forget that I have not limited my interactions with the Dursleys to pranks only. I did force Draco to mow their lawn free of charge for a month."

"Well, when you put it that way," Lily said, her voice clearly sarcastic.

"Yes, that is the way I put it," Bellatrix said. "Now, it is fortunate that you are here because you can save me the trouble of visiting Professor Dumbledore."

"Don't change the subject," Lily snapped.

"I already did," Bellatrix said. "Tell Dumbledore that I have reached a point where I should be able to divine the location of the last three magical objects for which we are looking. When I have divined their location, as it were, it will be essential that we act immediately to recover these objects. To that end, we will need the Order to form strike teams to recover the objects. If the Order does not want to participate, I will go to Minister Prewitt and arrange for action through the Auror Corps. Dumbledore is free to choose whether the Order does it or the Aurors do it."

"What are you saying?" Lily asked, clearly confused.

"Just relay the message to Dumbledore," Bellatrix said. "He will understand. Tell him that I will send him an owl with the date, time, and location. From there, I will do my divining and we will move to capture the magical objects. I will expect confirmation from him that he is willing to help."

"Are you expecting that the Death Eaters will cause trouble when we try to capture these objects?" Lily inquired.

"Almost certainly," Bellatrix answered as she stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go give Draco a spanking for driving my car without my permission."

Lily stared at Bellatrix as she also stood up. In the silence, the two witches heard the back door open and then slam shut. "It looks like you'll have to catch him first," Lily said.

A feral smile crossed Bellatrix's face, "He will find it difficult to hide from me."

"Well, I guess I will give Dumbledore your message," Lily said stiffly. "But, I don't want you to bother my sister anymore."

"I will do my best to refrain," Bellatrix said as she showed Lily to the door.

"See that you do," Lily said as she left.

Bellatrix shut the door behind her and went to work cleaning up the house with a few brisk cleaning charms. After a few minutes, the back door opened to admit Harry, Hermione, and a levitated, unconscious Draco.

"We saw him running out the back and thought we should stop him," Harry said.

"It is a good thing you did," Bellatrix said. "He probably overheard too much. Obliviate him and dump him in his bedroom."

Harry and Hermione did so, and afterward, Bellatrix led the way down to the concealed basement where Bellatrix had built Tom's custom prison cell. "If my method fails to work on him, we do not need to be overly concerned," Bellatrix said. "He is not the perfect match for what we want to do. But, if it does work, it would be very comforting."

"Right," Harry said, seeming to have mostly caught onto what Bellatrix had planned for discovery of the horcruxes.

"Did that potion from the cave cause any complications?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he is still alive," Bellatrix said. "I did not actually check up on him. I have been having Kreacher feed him and administer various potions. Given that Kreacher continues his job, Tom is probably still alive."

"I hope you gave the elf very specific and complete instructions," Harry muttered as they reached the cell door.

Inside they found that Tom was awake, but lying on the floor in a drug-induced stupor. His blankness was complete enough that he did not seem to realize that he had any visitors.

"If he's all messed up like this, won't that make it difficult to perform our experiment?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "Before we go to all the bother, let's find out. Harry, see if you can perform the Legilimency charm on him and get into his mind.

"Right," Harry said. He stood above Tom and looked down into his unseeing eyes. Then, he cast the spell. For some reason, it did not work. Harry tried several more times, but he could not find a way into Tom's mind. "Nothing," Harry said.

"Try it on Hermione," Bellatrix suggested.

"I'm pretty sure I was doing it right," Harry said, glancing at Hermione. He did not want to continue making her the guinea pig.

"It's all right," Hermione said. "Just do it quick. There's nothing you haven't already really seen."

Harry performed the spell on Hermione successfully, but only stayed in her mind for a few seconds. "See? I can do it on her, but not on Tom," Harry said.

"Okay," Bellatrix said. She drew her wand and performed the Legilimency spell on Tom as well. "All right," she conceded, "I do not think we will have to take steps to completely revive him—unless we cannot get into his mind using our experiment. From her robes, she pulled out a satchel, enlarged it, and set it down. Hermione removed the diadem and locket horcruxes from within, and Bellatrix transfigured the satchel into a table onto which Hermione placed the horcruxes.

"I decided that it would not be profitable to attempt to reduce this to a single spell word," Bellatrix said, withdrawing a piece of parchment from her robes and showing it to Harry. "Although you will not be able to cast this quickly, you will be able to cast it correctly very easily. There are practically no wand movements."

Harry took the parchment into his hands. "So, I'm assuming this helps get me past any Occlumency shields. But explain precisely what it is doing."

"You touch your wand to a horcrux," Hermione explained, "and then perform the spell."

"Yes," Bellatrix said, "and you will gain complete control of the horcrux as if you were the horcrux. Then, you do the same spell on the other horcrux, and it is as if you are two horcruxes combined. Then, when you try the Legilimency on Tom, you will find that you are easily able bypass any shields he has. In fact, you may be able to get in and out without him noticing your presence in his mind at all."

"Brilliant, Bella!" Harry said. "You've outdone yourself."

"Let us wait and see whether it actually works before passing around the accolades," Bellatrix said.

"Shall I do it now, then?" Harry said.

"Yes," Bellatrix said, gesturing to the table.

Harry set the parchment down on the table, held out his wand to the diadem, and began uttering the long incantation that Bellatrix had written. As the last word left his lips, an ethereal mist puffed out the end of his wand and sunk into the metal of the diadem. Suddenly, Harry felt different. It was as if his head was being shared by two separate entities, even if one did not seem active. Harry decided to move on to the next diadem. Now familiar with the words of the spell, he went through it quickly. The ethereal mist was absorbed into the locket and the second awareness in Harry's head grew larger and more powerful.

Having this new awareness in his head was strange enough, but as the effects of the spell on the second horcrux settled, Harry became aware of a buzzing or resonance on his head. His scar. It was beginning to tingle painfully. Blankly, Harry stood trying to assess what was happening. In the distance, Harry thought he heard Hermione commenting about his eyes and his scar.

In a further abstract distance, Harry thought he could hear another person's thoughts. Curious, he allowed his mind to wander that way, but after a moment stopped, realizing that it was the real Voldemort. Pulling away from those thoughts and being careful not to go in that direction, Harry turned his focus to Tom. Woodenly, Harry walked across the room, attempting to ignore his now throbbing scar.

Resisting the urge to support himself against one of the walls, Harry looked down into Tom's eyes and cast the Legilimency spell. Instantly, Harry was inside Tom's head and cruising through all of his memories, many of which were disgusting. Realizing that this was his chance to get to know Voldemort's mind before invading Voldemort's mind, Harry held on and tried to thoroughly examine Tom's mind despite the throbbing in his scar, which was quickly becoming unbearable.

Eventually, Harry could stand no more. He cancelled the mind-reading spell and then cast the strongest "Finite incantatem !" he had ever cast in his life. The throbbing and strange feelings ceased, but Harry still felt horrible.

Harry looked over at Bellatrix and Hermione, who wore expressions of deep concern on their faces.

"Did it work?" Hermione asked.

"Perfectly," Harry said thickly. "I need to rest." Intending to walk out of the cell and apparate home, Harry started walking, but suddenly, he was looking at the floor and hearing an exclamation of shock from Hermione or perhaps Bellatrix as blackness overcame him.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry awoke in his own bed feeling much better. That was encouraging, but the small collection of potion flasks next on his bedside table signified that he had not recovered on his own. Harry climbed out of bed. Glancing at one of the clocks in the room, he concluded that he had been unconscious only for about five hours. He wandered upstairs and found Bellatrix and Hermione in their respective armchairs discussing something about the Dark Arts.

Hermione noticed him first. "You've recovered!"

"Yep," Harry said, leaning against one of the tables. "So, when are we going to actually try that on the Dark Lord?"

"I do not know if it is a good idea anymore," Bellatrix hedged, eyeing Harry carefully, though her concern was not readily apparent.

"Why not?" Harry pushed back. "Everything went great. I recovered soon enough. No permanent harm done."

"I really am not sure," Bellatrix said. "I think it could have gone better."

"We're sure that you were able to get into Tom's mind just fine," Hermione said. "But, when you were casting those spells, your eyes turned red, and it looked like that scar on your forehead was on fire."

Bellatrix sighed. "The effect on your eyes was not totally unexpected, but the scar concerns me. I was not expecting that sort of physical reaction."

Harry shrugged as his mind raced to find an explanation. "I don't think we can avoid problems with the scar," he told Bellatrix and Hermione. "It's a part of how I can sense the Dark Lord's presence."

"Is it—" Bellatrix said, but then glanced at Hermione, remembering that they had not fully briefed Hermione on Harry's past. "I mean, did you experience the effects before we met . . . back at Gringotts?"

"Yes," Harry said simply, feeling guilty for the curiosity and suspicion that was now blooming on Hermione's face.

Bellatrix sat silently as she pondered this information. "It could be a resonance of some sort. Like repelling like."

"Sounds about right to me," Harry said. "There's no reason to hold back."

"Well, if you are completely sure," Bellatrix said.

"Yes," said Harry. "I am sure. Arrange it with the Order."

"They might not be willing," Bellatrix said. "But, I could bring Minister Prewitt in on it if necessary."

"I think the Order will be willing to help," Harry said. He looked at Hermione. "I will expect you to confirm to Dumbledore that we will be able to invade the Dark Lord's mind."

"I'll do my part," Hermione agreed.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Why not?" Leo demanded. "I've been taking dueling lessons from Bellatrix for several weeks. I could hold my own. I'm not afraid of any Death Eater."

Sirius gritted his teeth as he pulled on his Auror-grade dueling gauntlets. "You will stay home and safe because I told you to."

"You're letting Mom go," Leo retorted. "I bet I'm better at dueling than she is."

"I'm not the boss of your mother," Sirius bit back. "Look Leo, you're young and inexperienced. Besides, Bellatrix was never a battle-level duelist. Her training is traditional for one-on-one competitions."

"Are you questioning my dueling abilities?" came Bellatrix's voice.

"No, not really," Sirius said, startled to find that Bellatrix had arrived at his house via Floo. "I'm just trying to explain to my son, here, that just because he's taken a few lessons from you doesn't make him qualified to go into a situation that could turn into a full-fledged battle.

"Just my teaching abilities, then," Bellatrix said.

"Sure," Sirius said. "Now, why are you here?"

"I'm the one telling you where everyone is supposed to meet," Bellatrix said. "I presume Dumbledore has assigned you to relay the message onto a number of people."

"Oh, yes," Sirius said. "Where are we gathering to wait for word of where we'll be attacking?"

"Ravenbourgh."

"Oh, please," said Sirius. "What's wrong with your flat?"

"Too small, and I do not want a whole lot of strangers traipsing around it. Besides, that is where Ms. Granger will be working the magical process to help me divine the location of what we are after."

"And, your flat isn't pretentious enough."

"Quite."

"Well, thank you for bringing me the information. I will promptly relay it and probably see you at Ravenbourgh." Sirius said.

"Just one last thing," Bellatrix said.

"What?"

"Seeing as your dear Leo is not likely to be allowed near Ravenbourgh, I thought he might like the opportunity to sit in my flat with Hermione and supervise, as it were, the whole operation. It will help him feel like he was involved," Bellatrix said.

Sirius grinned. "Well, Leo how about it? Cousin Bella has been smashing enough to offer to let you feel like you were involved tonight."

"I will gladly go to Cousin Bella's flat," Leo said, grinning at Sirius.

Sirius looked at Leo suspiciously, and then to Bellatrix. "What's so special about your flat?"

"I have a lot of firewhiskey," Bellatrix said.

Sirius frowned. "I remember you always drinking wine, though."

"It is the only way I can lure handsome young men to my flat," Bellatrix said, completely deadpan.

"Having an incestuous relationship with my son would not be appropriate," Sirius said, also completely deadpan.

"There is a widely recognized exception for purebloods," Bellatrix said, winking at Leo.

"Will you sick people stop that!" Cassie Black, Sirius's wife, called from another room. "Take the boy and be gone."

Bellatrix shook her head. "I have other stops to make. Leo, just apparate there. Your arrival will be expected."

"Awesome!" Leo said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"I don't like meeting in the open like this," growled Moody to Dumbledore as they stood on a raised platform that had been erected on the grass between the Black's ancestral cemetery and the ruins of the Black's once impressive manor. "Nor do I fancy dividing us into three strike teams, only one of which will have anybody who knows anything about these horcruxes."

"Actually," Dumbledore said as his twinkling eyes surveyed the lay of the land and the few Order members that had gathered, "we have at least two if Madam Black and I go in separate teams. We could have three, if we can convince Madam Black to revise her plan to allow Miss Granger to go with a team."

"If you're confident that Black and Granger know enough," Moody said.

"Yes, I am," Dumbledore said. "I am thinking that I will lead a team. You, I think, will lead the team that goes with Bellatrix. And, I think James and Sirius could lead a team with Miss Granger. If she cannot come, then, I suppose we will put James and Sirius in your place with Bellatrix, and send you with Lily on the third team. She's clever enough to pick up on this horcrux magic quick enough, and you have more than enough experience fighting Dark magic in general."

The two friends sat quietly as they watched the most dedicated and talented members of the Order trickle in and break into small groups to talk with their friends. Moody and Dumbledore could also see in their memories many of the Order members who had fallen or merely gotten too old to be involved.

"To think," Moody said quietly, "that Ashworth knew all along. If only he could have passed the information along before being killed."

"I think we all underestimated Harry Ashworth," Dumbledore said quietly. "But now, we are left to wonder why his widow did not see fit to pass that information sooner. Why is she only now prosecuting her husband's crusade against our enemy?"

"No use in wondering why at this stage," Moody said gruffly.

"You are correct," Dumbledore said, "but I think we should prod more at a later time, if only to ascertain for ourselves that Madam Black will not use her newfound political influence irresponsibly."

The Potter, Weasley, and Black families came up to where Dumbledore and Moody were standing. Dumbledore noted the presence of Sidra, Rose, and Ron, but not Leo or Ginny. Seeing that Dumbledore had noted their composition, Lily defended herself.

"Rose has used her Seer abilities to assure us that no harm will come to her if she accompanies us," Lily said.

"And, she has assured us that she very likely will play a role that could mean the difference between victory and total disaster," James said drily.

"But she saw that Leo would come to harm? Is that it?" Moody inquired, wondering why the Potters would risk Rose while the Blacks held Leo back.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "We do not consult Rose before making parental decisions."

"Bellatrix offered to let him come to her flat where the first stage of the plan will be carried out," Cassie clarified. "He'll be safe there, but still involved in what is happening.

Lily looked at Rose. "Leo isn't going, dear. Wouldn't you rather be with him and safe in Bellatrix's flat?"

"I would rather see the battle," Rose said. "I stand by my forecast that no harm will come to me."

"Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked. "How about staying with Leo in Bellatrix's flat?"

"Hermione will be there," Sirius said, offering Ron an enticement.

"I'll ask Bellatrix what she thinks," Ron said, a calculating look in his eyes.

Dumbledore was still looking at Rose, intrigued by her recent glimpse of the future. "Tell me, Miss Potter, did you merely see that you would not be harmed, or did you see that there would be a battle from which you would emerge unscathed?"

Rose looked into Dumbledore's eyes. "There most assuredly will be a battle, Headmaster."

"How many battles?" Moody demanded. "Did you see who will be involved? There is going to be three separate strike teams, you know."

Rose looked around at everybody who was gathering as if seeing them for the first time. "I saw only one team and one battle," she declared.

"And who will win?" Dumbledore asked.

"Logically, if I emerge unscathed, we will have won, won't we?" Rose replied.

"Yes, but at what cost?" Moody wondered.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry sat on his bed and watched as Hermione fidgeted with the small table on which she had set up the horcruxes. "Nothing bad is likely to happen here in my flat," Harry said reassuringly.

"You're probably going to be in a lot of pain and might lose consciousness if you have to spend as much time in You-Know-Who's mind as you spent in Tom's mind," Hermione said.

"I am no stranger to pain," Harry said encouragingly. "This will be the first time I've had the luxury of passing out in my own, comfortable bed. Really, I'm ahead of the game, you know."

Leo entered the room. "Will this do?" he asked Hermione, proffering a small table.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, taking the table and setting up directly next to Harry's bed. "I'm going to go get some extra potions that we can dose you with in case something out of the ordinary happens or we need more than expected."

"All right," Harry said, even though he had no reason to believe the potions would be needed. If it made Hermione more comfortable, he was all for it.

Hermione left the room, and Leo grinned at Harry. "So, you really can get into You-Know-Who's mind, then?"

"Yes," said Harry, also smiling. In his own future, Voldemort had invaded his mind many times. Now, it felt like he was going to be repaying the favor. The return favor was overdue.

Harry and Leo heard the flat's front door open and close, signifying that Bellatrix had returned and that they were probably ready to begin. In few short seconds, Bellatrix had arrived in the bedroom with Ron Weasley in tow. "Ron is going to be on hand if you or Hermione need anything," Bellatrix announced.

Harry smiled at Ron. "Glad to see you, mate."

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely. "Where's Hermione?"

"Right here," Hermione said, returning from Bellatrix's lab with a tray of potion flasks.

Bellatrix stared at Hermione's preparations. "You do realize, of course, that we will be sending casualties to St. Mungo's?"

"It never hurts to be prepared," Hermione declared piously.

"Whatever," Bellatrix said to Hermione. She then turned her attention to everybody in the room. "At this moment, Professor Dumbledore is splitting the fighters into three teams. I am about to leave to join them. When I do leave, wait about ten minutes. Then, Harry should do the deed. Hermione, I want you to monitor Harry closely. Leo and Ron, you will be the ones to write down what Harry says about the location of the things we are looking for. I want you to both write and then compare notes. Then, I want one of you to apparate to Ravenbourgh and deliver the most accurate copy to me. Do not try to alter or make sense of what Harry says. Leave the interpreting to me if there happens to be an ambiguity that Harry cannot correct. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Good," Bellatrix said. "It might interest you to know that Rose Potter has predicted that we will be the winners."

"If there can be winners in a war," Harry said sadly, memories of his own future coming unbidden to his mind. Even if he had miraculously defeated Voldemort the next day instead of traveling to the past, he doubted that he would feel like he had won any war.

"Do not be so shortsighted, Harry," said Bellatrix before she left

"Be safe," Harry said as she walked out the door.

As soon as the door to the flat shut behind her, Hermione scurried to fetch notepads for Ron and Leo. The two young wizards accepted the notepads and self-inking quills, and Hermione spent the next ten minutes wringing her hands. Finally, she informed Harry that it was time for him to begin.

Harry picked up his wand, reached out to the table Hermione had set up, and began the incantation.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix stood on the platform with Dumbledore, Moody, James, Sirius, and Lily. Feeling slightly sulky, she wondered why it was that Dumbledore had insisted that James and Sirius would be the leaders of her team. She was the one who had engineered this entire plan. She was the one who would be telling them what would be necessary as they attempted to capture and destroy the horcrux their team went after. On the other hand, she did admit that she was not so experienced in battle situations as were Sirius and James, who were Aurors.

She scanned the crowd. It looked like they had about ten people for each team. The members of each team stood together on the side of the platform closest to where their leaders were standing. They were now silent, standing with wands drawn, waiting for word to come from Bellatrix's flat. Bellatrix did not know any of them well enough to predict how they were feeling, but she thought she detected both nervousness at the risks involved and excitement for the opportunity they might have to deal Voldemort a major blow. That was how Dumbledore had described it to them. Capture the magical object and we will have dealt the Dark Lord a major blow.

An apparition pop sounded in the graveyard. Those gathered could only see that it was a witch, but Bellatrix knew it was Hermione. The young witch ran quickly up toward the platform. Bellatrix frowned as she watched Hermione run. She was not carrying a piece of parchment. Was something wrong?

"Well?" Bellatrix asked after hopping off the platform and running about ten yards to meet Hermione. "Tell me it worked."

"There's only one you can attack," Hermione panted.

"One?" Bellatrix demanded, feeling furious that her efforts had not netted all three.

"Maybe two," Hermione said. "One is hidden in the statue display thing in the Ministry of Magic atrium.

"The other?" Bellatrix demanded.

"His familiar—a snake," Hermione replied, still out of breath. "Maybe if he comes to fight, he'll bring the snake."

"What about a third. Is there a third?"

Hermione was about to answer, but she paused as Dumbledore and Moody trotted up.

"Well?" Moody demanded.

"There's a horcrux concealed in the statue in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic," Bellatrix snapped. "Combine the teams. The Dark Lord's snake is also a horcrux, but that's not something that our teams can target."

"What about the third?" Moody demanded.

"No third to go after tonight," Bellatrix said shortly.

"Does the Dark Lord know we're after the atrium horcrux tonight?" Moody demanded.

"Absolutely," Hermione breathed. "You've got to hurry as fast as you can."

Moody spun and ran back to the platform, already shouting orders. Dumbledore remained with Bellatrix. "So," he mused aloud," one team and one battle."

Bellatrix wished that Dumbledore would leave so that she could speak to Hermione in private, but there was not enough time. "Is there a third?" Bellatrix demanded of Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said, now having caught her breath. She looked at Dumbledore and tried to find a way to explain without violating the oaths she had taken about keeping Harry secret. "The horcrux was seen, but apparently it has been transformed since it was originally made. There was a lot of confusion. Maybe later, some sense can be made out of what was seen. But for now, all you've really got is the atrium."

"Can't you tell me what was said?" Bellatrix asked looking over her shoulder to see that she had only seconds before the strike team departed.

Hermione squirmed as she looked between Bellatrix and Dumbledore, who was making no secret of nosing into the conversation. "I'm sorry, but we were left the most explicit impression that you should be told to seek out only the atrium horcrux and nothing more tonight."

"Dumbledore!" Moody yelled, "thirty seconds."

Finally, Dumbledore left Bellatrix and Hermione alone.

"Is Harry all right?" Bellatrix said quietly.

"It was a lot shorter, but perhaps more painful," Hermione whispered. "He didn't lose consciousness, but I sedated him anyway because it was clear he was pretty miserable. I promise, he said explicitly to go after only the atrium horcrux."

"Okay," Bellatrix said, "go back and keep an eye on him."

"I will," Hermione said.

Bellatrix turned and ran quickly back to the platform, arriving just as the first batch of Order members apparated to the Ministry.

"You can come with, Madam Black," Dumbledore called, offering his arm for Bellatrix to side-along apparate with him.

With a pop, they appeared in the Ministry's atrium. Already, Moody had sent various Order members running to secure all possible entrances to the atrium, though there was only so much that strategy could do. Hundreds of office windows overlooked the atrium. Theoretically, one could apparate into any of those offices and cause mayhem from up there. Perhaps if they could involve the Aurors, they would have more wands to stand guard. But, by the time they could rouse the Aurors and explain what was going on, it would be too late. Maybe some of the Aurors on duty would be able to help.

Dumbledore led Bellatrix up to the fountain. Moody and several other Order members had already sloshed through the fountain and were casting diagnostic charms on the stone, attempting to ascertain if the horcrux within was protected by any special spells. Feeling rather useless and out of place, Bellatrix stood on the edge of the fountain with Dumbledore, watching as the Order members worked.

"There doesn't appear to be any curses or shields that we can see," one of the Order members called to Moody.

"Blast away then," Moody said after looking to Dumbledore and getting a nod.

"Reducto!" shouted a group of Order members simultaneously.

The large monument exploded, and then, it exploded again, but extremely violently. A large chunk of marble caught Bellatrix in the chest and carried her halfway across the atrium. The pain was so deep and startling that Bellatrix hardly even felt the smaller shrapnel-like pieces whiz toward her face and cut it in several places. Before she could even tighten her grip on her wand, Bellatrix smashed into the floor and was consumed by blackness as pain exploded in her head.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Get somebody up to the Auror desk!" James shouted. "If those morons haven't noticed us yet, tell them we need to make sure we keep intruders out of here while we work!"

"I'll go," Sirius volunteered. "They'll at least recognize me."

"Great," James said, just as an explosion ripped through the center of the atrium. He spun around and watched with horror as Bellatrix and Dumbledore were thrown across the atrium and pounded into the floor. Many of the Order members who had been working on the statue were dead, with the noticeable exception of Moody, who had been spared by a combination of luck and really good reflexes.

"Bloody hell!" James cursed, running toward Dumbledore. He saw Moody looking like he might go that way, but he shook his head and gestured. "I got them!" James shouted. "You work on the statute."

"Get over here!" Moody yelled to some other Order members. "We need to sort through this rubble. Use shield charms while you work! Try not to touch anything with your hands!"

James reached Dumbledore, who was bleeding badly. The aged wizard was unconscious, pale, and breathing shallowly. Reflexively, James grabbed a medical portkey from a pocket, shoved it into one of Dumbledore's hands, and triggered it. Instantly, Dumbledore disappeared.

"Was it bad?" Frank Longbottom yelled, coming up to James.

"He'll be fine," James declared, already moving toward Bellatrix's prone form.

"The Ministry personnel on duty are helping us," Frank said, following James. "I saw you send Sirius up to the Auror floor."

"Good," James said as they reached Bellatrix. He looked down at her. "Seems in slightly worse condition." He knelt down and put a portkey in her hand and activated it, but nothing happened.

"Not good," Frank observed.

"Moody! We've got company on the way!" James shouted loudly.

Instantly, Moody began barking orders to the Order members who had been assigned to guard the various entrances. Moody's orders were followed, and in the moments that followed, silence fell on the atrium with the exception of the Order members working through the rubble of the atrium statue.

"I've found something!" yelled one of them. "A golden cup."

"Give it to me," Moody yelled, reaching his hand out to catch it.

"No, do not give it to him," echoed Lord Voldemort's angry whisper throughout the atrium as several explosions marked the arrival of dozens of Death Eaters who began streaming through the entrance fireplaces.

The Order members did not need any signal to start fighting. They got off the first volley of spells and several Death Eaters fell. But then, the Death Eaters started fighting back. Among the Death Eaters and Order members fighting, Voldemort appeared and began striding toward Moody. Despite the chaos, both Order members and Death Eaters managed to stay out of Voldemort's way.

"Give it to me!" Moody yelled at the Order member who had found the cup. The Order member complied and tossed the cup to Moody, who promptly shot several spells at Voldemort as he turned and began dodging in between the combatants.

James, meanwhile, was fortunate enough to not be particularly close to where the Death Eaters were pouring in through the fireplaces, but he was still taking the opportunity to shoot stunners toward the black robed fighters.

Suddenly, Rose ran up to him. "Dad! Can't we leave? Is everything blocked?"

"Yes," James said as he shot a succession of several spells, hitting a couple of Death Eaters, but mostly making others dodge. "We're trapped for now, unless we can scare Voldemort into retreating."

"You've got to send a patronus message to Leo!" Rose exclaimed. "Tell him we're in trouble."

"There's nothing he can do," James told Rose, mostly focused on the fighting. "Nobody goes in, nobody goes out. Not even worth the bother of alerting Aurors outside the Ministry."

"Just do it!" Rose demanded. "Do it now!"

~!~!~!~!~!~!

An ethereal stag burst into the living room of Harry and Bellatrix's flat, where Ron, Hermione, and Leo were sitting and wondering how the horcrux recovery effort was going. Leo leapt to his feet as the stag approached him and emitted James Potter's voice. "Order trapped in Ministry in battle with Voldemort. Dumbledore and Bellatrix neutralized. Not looking good for us."

"Merlin!" Ron exclaimed, looking at Hermione who looked deathly pale at hearing the bad news.

Leo was already thinking. "Harry is only unconscious because you gave him a potion, right?" he demanded.

"Yes," Hermione admitted.

"You've got to revive him, now!" Leo practically shouted. "He'll know what to do."

Hermione got to her feet and rushed down the hall to the bedroom with Leo and Ron hot on her tail. Upon arriving in the room, she began looking through the potion bottles she had brought down from Bellatrix's lab. She held two of the flasks up. "I think these two will neutralize the potion that is keeping him asleep."

"Force it down his throat," Ron advised, getting into the spirit of the situation.

"He could be in a lot of pain when he wakes up, though," Hermione said.

"Believe me, he'd rather be in pain than wake up and find his wife and tons of others dead without him having the opportunity to do something," Leo said, grabbing one of the potion bottles and moving toward the bed.

In short order, the potions were down Harry's throat, and he was sputtering and choking. Eventually his eyes opened and the young wizards and witch hastily explained the situation.

"All right, I understand," Harry said, jumping out of bed and grabbing onto one of Hermione's tables to support himself. He took several deep breaths and then used his wand to summon his dueling attire.

"What are you going to do?" Leo demanded as they watched Harry get properly dressed.

"You might be able to scare away You-Know-Who with the Ghost of Ashworth," Ron advised.

"I doubt it," Harry said. "He felt me assault his mind and thus knows that I am alive. That means that the Ghost of Ashworth has outlived its usefulness. Follow me."

Ron, Leo, and Hermione followed Harry across the hall to an empty bedroom cluttered with random supplies. "I'm looking for a box with a bunch of cheap wands and maybe a shopping bag with several bags of Peruvian instant darkness powder."

"Here's the powder," Ron said, bending down and pulling the bags from under a bunch of empty shopping bags.

"Here's a box of wands," Leo said as Ron handed the darkness powder to Harry. Harry glanced at the box of wands. "Those are trick wands," he said.

"Oh," Leo said, going to put them back.

"Actually, hand me a few trick wands," Harry said.

Leo handed a handful of the trick wands to Harry, who promptly placed them in his robes. "There's the real wands," Harry said pointing to another box. "Hand me a lot of those."

Soon, Harry was all stocked up. "All right," he said, holding out his phoenix feather wand.

"Can't we come with you?" Leo asked.

Harry got a faraway look in his eyes. "Umm . . . okay, but just one of you. That's all I will need."

"Me," said Ron. "I won't get in trouble with my parents."

"So?" Leo demanded.

"Ron it is," Harry said hastily, handing the bags of Peruvian darkness powder to Ron. "You've probably seen this stuff in action before. What's going to happen is that we're going to go into the battle. I'll drop you off in a Ministry office overlooking the atrium. Then, I'll go down and pick a fight with the Dark Lord. When I explode a bunch of the windows in the atrium, I want you to use this stuff to make the atrium pitch black. And then, in the blackness, see if you can find a way to make some noise without drawing attention to yourself. Got it?"

"Yep," Ron said.

Harry grabbed Ron, and in an explosion of fire, the two disappeared from the flat.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lily gritted her teeth as she shot off a volley of stunners toward random black-robed shapes with her left arm. A Death Eater curse had caught her and broke her wand arm. Now, she was trying to keep fighting vigorously without aggravating the injury too much.

The battle was going poorly for the Order. The Death Eaters outnumbered them, and they had not been able to get reinforcements in to help. Apparently, Voldemort had found a way to prevent people from apparating or using a portkey to get in. Normally, Lily knew that Voldemort would have retreated by now. He had incapacitated or killed several Order members, but he was also losing his own people, too. It was harder to replace Death Eaters. But, apparently the horcrux they were after was what kept Voldemort on the field.

Moody had it. He had been unable to leave the Ministry with it, but so far, he had dodged Voldemort and kept it out of the Dark Lord's hands. That was what was keeping many of the Order members alive so far. Voldemort was so focused on Moody that he was unable to personally fight the Order. Lily found it ironic that the horcrux would be what kept the battle going, yet protected the Order members.

A shockwave suddenly rippled through the atrium's floor, and Lily was knocked over as was everybody in the atrium. In a matter of seconds, the battle had practically ended. The shockwave stopped, and Voldemort's voice echoed through the room. "The first non-Death Eater to move will be killed on the spot."

Unmoving, the Order members watched as the Death Eaters regrouped on one side of the Ministry. "All of you throw your wands over there," Voldemort demanded, gesturing with his wand. "If you cooperate, I will probably let you live."

Some of the Order members threw their wands, other did not. Voldemort smiled at them. "It does not matter if you still have your wand. If any of you so much as twitch, you will be killed on the spot." He backed toward his Death Eaters and cast an amplification spell with his wand. "Alastor Moody, you have five minutes to produce my golden cup. If you fail to do so, I will kill half the prisoners now alive."

Lily wanted to cry, but not for herself. Within view, both her daughters sat frozen on the floor. They would be dead before they had even truly reached adulthood, having never known a world that was free of Voldemort.

Another voice echoed through the atrium and interrupted Lily's thoughts.

"Do you really think that Moody is going to respond to that sort of threat?" came Harry Ashworth's voice.

Everybody in the room except Voldemort stared toward where the voice had come with shock. Having been in a similar situation before, Lily had not been quite so shocked at hearing Harry's voice, but she was surprised to see that he seemed to be physically present.

Slowly, Voldemort turned around, smiling almost gleefully. "Professor Ashworth," he said, "how kind of you to drop in." With lightning speed, he shot a stunner at Harry, who merely sidestepped it. "Your reflexive movement indicates that you might be physically here. That's rather out of character for you, isn't it?"

"Well, I did tip my hand when I raided your mind this evening, didn't I?" Harry said, casually gripping his wand and slowly stepping to the side a bit and watching Voldemort carefully.

"That you did," Voldemort agreed. "But, tell me, Ashworth, or is it Black, now? Why all this bother of a charade? Why pretend to be dead?"

"It was convenient," Harry confessed. "The injuries you inflicted on me in our last meeting were quite grievous. I've only recently recovered enough from them that I feel comfortable letting you know that I am alive."

"You don't do things halfway, do you?" Voldemort said. "You've fallen into the snake pit. I do not think you will get out alive. It would have been better for you to hide and wait for the battle to end and for me to depart."

"Perhaps so," Harry said, moving yet again and watching as Voldemort also moved to remain opposite Harry.

"I know so," Voldemort said, suddenly bringing his wand up and rapidly shooting several curses at Harry.

Harry disappeared in a blink of an eye, and suddenly a shockwave curse burst toward Voldemort from the other side of the fountain. The pure energy picked up some of the stones and slung them toward Voldemort, who pushed them aside with a mere flick of his wand.

"So," Voldemort said as he cast a shield charm on himself, "you fancy yourself a master of illusion. Do you think I am so inexperienced that I will shoot curses at you every single time your illusion appears? Or that I will randomly shoot spells in hopes of hitting you? Two can play your stalking game."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Ron sat on the floor behind the desk of a rather grungy office. Harry had advised him to shield himself from the impending window explosion. That meant that he did not get to watch what was happening in the atrium below. It was quite disappointing for Ron, but on the other hand, he had only heard the occasional thud or explosion since Harry's duel with Voldemort had begun. It did not sound like there was much to see, anyway.

From below, Ron could hear a long exchange suddenly taking place. Explosion followed explosion rapidly. Finally, a shockwave explosion came up toward the windows in the atrium and struck hard, causing glass to explode everywhere.

Once he was sure he was not about to get cut by a flying shard, Ron jumped up with the bags of Peruvian instant darkness powder and started launching them. With satisfaction, he watched as darkness descended on the atrium below.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

With the darkness came a thick silence. Lily's heart pounded as she wondered who had caused the darkness and what would happen in it. She did not have to wait long—explosions started sounding from above. Were Harry and Voldemort fighting? Or was it something else? The explosions sounded much higher than ground level.

The explosions ceased after a few minutes, and the oppressive silence returned. Unexpectedly, a whirlwind ripped through the atrium, and instantly, the darkness was gone, revealing Harry and Voldemort standing near the center of the atrium not overly far away from each other.

Harry swished his wand and cancelled the wind spell, smiling as he let his wand arm drop into a non-threatening position.

"You gave up your advantage a little too easily," Voldemort commented, looking a tad surprised.

"It outlived its usefulness," Harry admitted. "Now, why don't you do us all a favor and get out of here?"

"The duel isn't over, Ashworth," Voldemort said. "Since you can't leave, you must either fight or be killed."

"I'm done fighting for today," Harry said. "Go ahead and kill me."

Voldemort raised his wand and shouted the killing curse. Rather than emitting the sickening green light of the killing curse, however, the wand emitted an impressive fountain of pink sparks. Voldemort stared at his wand in horror. "What have you done to my wand?" he yelled at Harry while his slit-like nostrils flared.

"Your wand is safe and in excellent condition," Harry said, holding it up in his left hand. "But, it is now mine." With a smug cheeky grin, he tucked Voldemort's wand into his right sleeve holster.

The expression on Voldemort's face was one of pure hatred, and his glowing, red eyes only made it more intimidating. "I'll see to it that your death is long and painful, Professor," Voldemort snarled before activating a portkey and disappearing. The Death Eaters took this as a signal and also activated their emergency portkeys, causing the Order members still conscious to let out a collective sigh of relief as all but the dead or unconscious Death Eaters disappeared.

Lily looked at her former professor with increased respect and admiration. He had forced Voldemort to retreat with seemingly little effort. Suddenly, Lily realized that he had walked over and was speaking to her.

"Lily, does Moody actually have the horcrux?" Harry asked, looking at her with his piercing green eyes.

"Yes, M-moody has it," Lily stuttered, still trying to get her head wrapped around the situation.

"Good," Harry said. "Tell him to take it to Hogwarts. I will send my house elf to him with a vial of basilisk venom. That should help destroy it."

"Okay," Lily said, trying to think of something else to say, but it was too late because Harry had walked away.

Lily watched as Harry found Bellatrix unconscious on the floor. He sighed as he knelt next to her, and suddenly, Harry looked exhausted and frail. Slowly and gingerly, he lifted Bellatrix up and wrapped one of his arms around her before disappearing in an explosion of flame.

40. The Leaders' Leader

A/N: Thank you for your reviews.

Chapter 39: The Leaders' Leader

Lord Silvere

Hermione jumped from her seat in Harry and Bellatrix's bedroom as a flash of fire appeared on the bed and vanished to reveal Harry holding Bellatrix in his arms. With a sigh, he let her unconscious form slowly fall back onto the bed before allowing himself to slump and lie down beside her.

"Harry's back!" Hermione yelled to Leo, who had been pacing throughout the flat since Harry had left for the Ministry and the battle raging there. She turned her attention directly to Harry. "Is everything all right? What do you need me to do?"

"Dark Lord retreated," Harry said in between rapid breaths. "Casualties did not seem too bad from what I saw, but I'm not entirely sure on that front. See to Bella. She might need to be taken to St. Mungo's."

Hermione rounded the bed and performed a cursory inspection of Bellatrix while Harry sat on the bed fighting to stay awake. After a few diagnostic spells, Hermione was able to offer her opinion. "It's mostly just bruising, I think. Probably some cracked or broken ribs. All the blood is from minor head wounds. Was there glass or something?"

"Exploded marble, maybe," Harry said.

"I think she could avoid St. Mungo's," Hermione opined. "You two certainly keep enough potions on hand. Between sleep, pain, and regenerative potions and me cleaning her up, I suspect she would be mostly recovered within twenty-four hours and completely recovered within seventy-two."

Harry nodded sleepily. "See what you can do, then. If she wakes before I do, please ask her what she would prefer and then do what you can to honor her requests."

"Naturally," Hermione said.

"There's going to be a whole lot of confusion and questions now that everyone knows I'm alive," Harry said slowly. "I'm putting you and Leo in charge. Answer what questions you can, but mostly just hold everyone off. Maybe take notes of anything Bella or I will need to deal with later. Remember that currently, only you two and Ron are allowed past the wards on this flat."

"We'll take care of everything," Hermione reassured Harry. "Now does this mean that we're released from our oaths?"

"Yes," Harry said. "You have permission to tell everybody anything you happen to know. I don't know about you, Leo. You gave your oath to Bellatrix, not me."

Hermione nodded. "I'll be the one telling things, I think. She rounded the bed again and mixed up a potion cocktail. "Here, why don't you drink this? It will help with your pain and make you sleep better."

Harry accepted the potion gratefully. "Oh, and when you get a chance, see if you can find a vial of basilisk venom in Bella's lab."

"Okay," Hermione said, watching Harry.

"Kreacher!" Harry called, trying to make his voice carry. The house elf appeared with a pop. Harry gave it instructions. "Do whatever Hermione, here, wants." Harry looked at Hermione. "Have Kreacher deliver the venom to Alastor Moody. He's supposed to destroy the horcrux. You might have to help him if he needs it, but I should think it would be easy."

"Of course," Hermione nodded as Harry downed the potion and fell asleep.

Hermione took the potion glass out of Harry's limp hand and cracked a smile at Leo. "If I was smarter, maybe I would have had him get under the covers before knocking him out."

"That's easy," Leo said. "Just kind of roll him over and we can pull the covers out from under him.

Hermione shook her head and drew her wand. "How about I levitate, and you pull out the covers?"

"I guess that would be even easier," Leo admitted as Hermione levitated Harry. He pulled back the covers, and soon, Harry had been tucked into his side of the bed.

Then, Hermione surveyed Bellatrix before looking at Leo. "That's going to take some more doing. Fetch me some hot water and towels. Then, we'll see about getting her washed and patched up.

Leo blushed, but departed to fulfill Hermione's requests speedily.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

By the time Ron made it to the atrium from his perch well above the battle, most of those involved in the battle had wandered home or had been taken to St. Mungo's. Only higher-ranking members of the Order and Aurors who had been called into work to handle the aftermath stood in the atrium. He found his mother standing with the Potters. They were busy talking to Amelia Bones about what had happened.

"How did you get here?" Molly Weasley asked, clearly surprised to see Ron. Her exclamation drew the attention of the Potters and Amelia Bones. They looked at Ron expectantly.

The oaths that bound Ron to secrecy were now causing him a problem. "Uh . . . I was brought here," he said lamely.

"By who?" Molly demanded.

"I can't really say because of magical oaths," Ron hedged.

"Harry brought you here, didn't he?" Lily said excitedly, holding her arm gingerly and wincing every time she moved. Ron thought the arm looked broken.

Ron shrugged. "It's a fair conclusion."

"Where did you find Harry Ashworth?" Molly asked, clearly confused about this new turn of events.

"At Bellatrix's flat, no doubt," James said. "Rose must have known about Harry, too. That is why she demanded I send the patronus signal to Leo in the middle of the battle. She must have known that Ashworth could break through the wards."

"Yeah, we got the patronus message," Ron confirmed. "Hermione made liberal use of certain potions that can force people to wake up. And then, at some point I volunteered to be the one to launch the instant darkness powder into the air. The breaking of all the windows was my cue."

"Where is Mr. Ashworth now?" Amelia Bones asked, butting into the conversation.

"I cannot answer direct questions like that," Ron said.

"Do you know where Leo is?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Ron said. "He's at Bellatrix's flat."

"We'd appreciate it if you would go and inform him that he's needed at St. Mungo's," James said, his voice sounding a little heavy. "His mother got caught in the explosion. It's not looking good for her."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The number of casualties of the recent battle at the Ministry was overwhelming the emergency ward at St. Mungo's. To add to the burden, the ward and hospital lobby was full of Aurors, Ministry officials, and news reporters who were demanding answers from anyone who looked like they could have participated in the battle. Each minute brought more and higher ranked Ministry officials.

The triage nurse had been kind enough to put a temporary cast on Lily's arm until the mediwizards and mediwitches could finish with the more seriously wounded. It left Lily feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but it was about as good as the cast she had been given when she had broken her arm as a child.

Avoiding eye contact with everybody in the room, Lily pushed out the door and made her way down the hall to the room where the staff had placed Professor Dumbledore. Inside, she found that he was awake and listening to James's report on everything that had happened since the explosion had knocked him unconscious.

"So, he took Voldemort's wand?" Dumbledore chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "He once told me that he was far better at Defense than he was at Potions."

"It would appear he was not exaggerating," James said drily.

"And how are you faring, Lily?" Dumbledore asked.

"A sight better than you, I should think," Lily replied, taking a seat.

Before Lily could properly involve herself in the conversation, Minister Prewitt rushed into the room, escorted by Amelia Bones. Lily also noted that a pair of Aurors that remained outside the room, serving as sentries. "I need to know precisely what happened," Prewitt said firmly.

"We've already explained to your Aurors that everything is under control," James said, barely maintaining a mask of respect for his ultimate superior.

"If that's the case, then you can start by telling me precisely what started tonight's spectacle," Prewitt said, addressing his comments to Dumbledore.

If the Minister had annoyed Dumbledore, it was not obvious, for the headmaster disguised it well as he sat up in his bed. "Tonight, I and a number of other concerned witches and wizards were conducting an operation in conjunction with Madam Bellatrix Black. The objective was to take possession of a valuable object Voldemort had concealed in the Ministry atrium. I do believe we succeeded, despite Voldemort making a personal appearance in an attempt to thwart our efforts."

"And how did Harry Ashworth fit into all of this?" Prewitt demanded.

"It would seem that Mr. Ashworth, or rather, Mr. Black, was the one directing the operation," Dumbledore said. "When Voldemort showed up, Mr. Black took it upon himself to appear and force Voldemort into retreat."

"I am going to need to speak with Mr. Black," Prewitt said, having absorbed the information and already moving on to map and accomplish objectives. "I also want that object you captured."

"It has been destroyed," came Alastor Moody's voice, "as per Mr. Black's directions."

Prewitt glared at Moody as the retired Auror entered the room and shut the door behind him. He addressed his next comment to Dumbledore, still. "I hope that was the correct course of action."

"I think Mr. Black knows what he is doing," Dumbledore said. "Now that we know he is alive, I am hoping to meet with him and get some answers. It has been clear to me for some time that he can see the path toward Voldemort's defeat far better than any of us."

"We've had access to Bellatrix," James commented. "Surely she's told us just about everything."

"I am not completely sure of that," Dumbledore sighed. "It is my observation that even Madam Black was blindly following orders tonight. I was there when Miss Granger was conveying Mr. Black's instructions that we attack the atrium and only the atrium immediately."

Prewitt frowned. "Wait, so this Miss Granger was relaying Mr. Black's orders to Madam Black?"

"Miss Granger is a recent graduate of Hogwarts," Dumbledore informed Prewitt. "She has been assisting Madam Black in the past little while. Though, it appears that tonight, she was functioning as a part of Mr. Black's personal detail."

A knock sounded on the door, and it opened to reveal Hermione, who entered and pushed the door shut behind her.

"Ah, the very witch appears," Dumbledore said, smiling at her over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

Prewitt wasted no time. "Miss Granger, I need to know everything that you know."

"I will be happy to oblige," Hermione said, eying the Minister nervously. She looked to Lily. "I brought Leo to the hospital. One of the nurses directed him toward his mother's room. Is it very bad?"

Lily looked at James for the answer. "I think so," James said. "She suffered a lot of spell damage atop injuries from the explosion. It seems that too much of her life bled out before we could get her here."

"That's very sad," Hermione said.

"It is," Dumbledore acknowledged, alternating between giving Hermione sympathetic glances and Minister Prewitt a stern warning gaze. "We were rather hoping that you could give us more information about Mr. Black."

"Yes," Hermione said, "the oaths I took have been removed. Harry has put me in charge of answering any questions and making any personal arrangements until he or Bellatrix are more able to take care of things for themselves."

"And how is Harry?" Lily demanded before even Minister Prewitt could say anything.

Hermione eyed Lily curiously, plainly wondering how it was that she was so interested in Harry. "The events of tonight were quite exhausting for him. The magic to discover . . . where we should attack tonight drained him considerably. I sedated him, but later had to revive him so that he could rush to the Ministry and do what he did. I have since re-sedated him. Bellatrix is fine, too, by the way."

Prewitt looked like he wanted to say something, but Dumbledore help up his hand and silenced him. "Tell me, Miss Granger. Tonight, Harry told Voldemort that in their last duel, Harry had suffered grievous injury at Voldemort's hands and only just recovered. Do you know anything that you can tell us about that?"

"No," Hermione said. "Harry has always struck me as being an extremely powerful and healthy wizard. I haven't sensed any weakness that could be attributed to an injury. Rose or Leo might know the answer to that, though. They've been acquainted longer." She withdrew a sheet of parchment and a self-inking quill. "I'm sure Harry would be happy to answer a lot of your questions in person. Perhaps I'll just take down your names and let him know to visit with you. I doubt that he's going to stay in hiding like he has been lately."

"Yes, put my name down," Dumbledore said.

"And mine," Lily said.

"Well, I'm sure I could arrange something for the entire Order," Dumbledore said.

"I would think that he owes me more of an explanation than the rest of the Order deserves," Lily grumbled.

"She has a little bit of a crush on him," James whispered loudly.

Moody laughed raucously. "Send him my congratulations for a well-fought duel," he directed Hermione. "Though, I sure hope he can fight better than that when he isn't exhausted."

"Right," Hermione said, quickly scribbling on the parchment. She looked up at Minister Prewitt. "Shall I put your name down, Minister?"

"Yes," Prewitt said. "Tell Mr. Ashworth, or Black, or whomever he is, that I want him in my office the instant he is able to come and visit. Anytime will do. My people will show him in the instant he arrives."

"His formal name is Harry Ashworth Black," Hermione said as she jotted down Prewitt's name and instructions. "Mr. Black will do, I think."

"Very good," Prewitt said glancing around. "I am about to hold a press conference. Once the newshounds have their story, they will be able to leave the hospital in peace, I hope. Would you be so kind to join me, Miss Granger? The Blacks would probably appreciate your answering some questions on their behalf and giving directions for how correspondence to them should be handled."

"I suppose I could do that," Hermione said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Once Minister Prewitt had carried out the formalities of saying goodbye to Dumbledore, the Potters, and Moody, Hermione found herself being whisked by Prewitt and his Auror bodyguards back down the hall to the main lobby of St. Mungo's.

Ministry officials had cleared a space and set up a platform and podium for Minister Prewitt's press conference. Without wasting any time, Prewitt trotted up the stairs to the platform and made his way to the podium. A wave of questions were suddenly directed his way, not only by reporters, but by concerned citizens who had happened to already be at the hospital.

In the clamor, Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Amelia Bones looking at her.

"Miss Granger, would you mind putting my name on that list?" Amelia said quietly.

"Of course," Hermione said, already moving to scrawl Amelia's name down for Harry's later attention.

"Is there any chance that you will be giving the list directly to Mr. Black rather than to his wife?" Amelia inquired.

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "Harry was the one who asked me to keep track of things."

"All right, then," Amelia said, sounding a bit reassured.

Prewitt raised his arms and signaled that he wanted silence. "This evening, a number of witches and wizards under the personal command of Albus Dumbledore and Bellatrix Black engaged a large number of Death Eaters in battle at the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione listened suspiciously as the Minister droned on and gave a rather convoluted and cloudy tale of the events without actually telling the reporters that the Order had been trying to steal something from Voldemort. Dumbledore and Bellatrix were praised, but somehow, the Ministry came off looking just as heroic as anybody who had been in the battle, though Hermione did have to admit that Prewitt emphasized the sacrifice of those who had died or been injured in the fight.

"What about Harry Ashworth?" one reporter hollered. "I've had multiple witnesses tell me that Harry Ashworth personally appeared, dueled You-Know-Who, and took his wand."

"Yes," Prewitt said. "It has come to our attention that Harry Ashworth is alive and well. The operation against the Dark Lord in the Ministry tonight was personally overseen by Madam Black and Headmaster Dumbledore, but it is my understanding that Harry Ashworth was the mastermind behind the entire thing."

Prewitt's statement launched off a tidal wave of noise and questions as the reporters tried to get information from him, each other, and anybody that looked like they knew something. Silence eventually reigned after Prewitt raised his arms. "Harry Ashworth has appointed Miss Hermione Granger to serve as his personal representative. She has kindly made herself available to answer any of your questions. But first, let me emphasize to all of you that the Ministry will be working with Mr. Ashworth extensively in the near future."

This launched another wave of questions, but Prewitt forestalled them by using Hermione as his shield. Her knees wobbling slightly, Hermione made her way up onto the platform and to the podium, which seemed to have some sort of voice amplification charm on it. The press was annoyed with Prewitt's dodge, but they were equally pleased to have Hermione at their disposal.

"Let me emphasize," Hermione said, struggling to master her voice and trying to be heard over the commotion, "Mr. Ashworth's legal name is Harry Ashworth Black. It would be proper to refer to him as Mr. Black."

"Mr. Black is married to Bellatrix Black, am I right?" yelled a reporter.

"That is correct," Hermione said, squinting through the camera flashes.

"And he is in fact Lord Black—the head of the Black family and controller of the Black estates and fortune," demanded another reporter.

"Err, yes, I think that is accurate," Hermione said.

"He succeeded Orion Black, didn't he?" another voice called. Hermione was not sure that one was a reporter, though.

"As far as I know," Hermione said slowly, realizing for the first time that she did not actually know all that much about Harry or Bellatrix.

"Is he Orion Black's illegitimate son?" a reporter from Witch Weekly called out.

Hermione blushed. "I don't know anything about Mr. Black's parents."

A reporter that Hermione recognized as Rita Skeeter asked the next question. "But it is entirely possible that Mr. Black is in fact the bastard son of Orion Black and that he married Bellatrix Black to secure the family fortune, isn't it? It would not be the first time the Blacks have intermarried to consolidate their power and wealth."

"I don't think that question deserves a response," Hermione said tightly.

"Where was Mr. Black all these years?" demanded an Auror who had somehow become a part of the crowd.

A reporter seized on this. "Yes, where was he? As a former advisor to Cygnus Black, didn't he realize his counsel would be needed at the inauguration of Minister Prewitt's administration? Surely Mr. Black was cognizant of information that could have been invaluable to Minister Prewitt."

"No comment," Hermione said, now wishing that she had asked Bellatrix or Harry this question herself.

Minister Prewitt stepped over to the podium. "It is my understanding that Mr. Black has been indisposed for many years as a result of a duel he lost against the Dark Lord in the seventies. Only recently has he made a full recovery."

"He was indisposed for twenty odd years?" a reporter exclaimed indignantly. "And then he just waltzes in and duels You-Know-Who into retreating?"

"Obviously, he got better at dueling," Hermione stated in a waspish tone. "I think I've answered enough questions tonight. If you want more information, you can send an owl, but do not expect an immediate reply."

"I am quite sure that an official information packet outlining information about Harry Black will be prepared," Prewitt said, reclaiming the podium in its entirety. "We'll excuse Miss Granger so that she may attend to her duties."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry snickered as he eyed Hermione's face displayed on the front cover of the Daily Prophet alongside an older picture of him leftover from the seventies. In addition to those two photographs, pictures of Orion Black, Cygnus Black, and Bellatrix filled the first three pages of the newspaper alongside articles detailing the events of the night previous and relaying information about the Ministry's actions. The Prophet also featured a special written by Rita Skeeter in which she speculated about Harry's parentage and about whether he might be having an affair with Hermione.

"It's outrageous!" Hermione voice came from the kitchen. "How dare she?"

"It's par for the course," Harry said, setting down the paper as Hermione entered the dining area carrying on a plate a sandwich she had made for Harry.

"Aren't you going to do anything about it?" Hermione demanded, drawing her wand and summoning a bottle of butterbeer for Harry as she sat down at the table to watch him eat.

Harry shook his head as he picked up the sandwich and began to eat. "I'm sure Bella will take care of it."

"Revel in it, more like," Hermione retorted. "Are you going to respond to any of these people?" she asked, gesturing to the large stack of correspondence that had begun gathering at sunrise. "Professor Dumbledore is most anxious to speak with you as is Minister Prewitt. Prewitt said that you should feel free to drop by at any moment."

"Yes, I imagine they both would be," Harry sighed, staring at his sandwich before taking several bites. "I think I'll have another look in at Bella and then toddle over to the Ministry. I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore will have to wait. But, you can report to him that I intend to tell him a great deal when I do get around to seeing him. I think he'll find some of my revelations startling."

Hermione did not look overly pleased to discover that Harry was assigning Prewitt a higher priority or that Harry understood that whatever he said was likely to be reported to Dumbledore. "Are you sure that Prewitt is the best person to cozy up to? Last night he tried to twist things to make himself and the Ministry look awfully good."

"He is a politician, after all," Harry acknowledged as he finished the sandwich. "But, he's also the Minister of Magic. I cannot expect the Order to fight the war alone. We're feeling the cost of that today, what with Leo's mother, among others. I suppose that's another stop I'll make on the way back. But, in any instance, it is far better that I try to get the Order and the Ministry pointed in the right direction and on the same page. It'll make the Dark Lord's job harder."

Hermione followed Harry into the kitchen and watched as he dropped the plate in the sink and washed up. "What if Prewitt decides he doesn't want to cooperate with you? What if he shuns you?"

"I would be surprised if he did that," Harry said as he led Hermione down the hall to his bedroom. "If he does, I am sure we can sic Bella on him."

Bellatrix was still unconscious in bed. Hermione had informed Harry when he woke up that she had further sedated Bellatrix until her injuries could heal more fully. "If we let her wake up later tonight, she will escape experiencing all but the pain from the initial impact," Hermione now informed Harry. She pulled back the sheets and bared Bellatrix's chest for Harry. "As you can see, the bruises have faded quite a bit."

"You've done wonderful, Hermione," Harry said as he reached out and gently stroked Bellatrix's face while Hermione replaced the covers over his wife. "I would appreciate it if you stayed while I was away. If you have to leave, see if you can get Ron to step in."

"Of course," Hermione said unselfishly.

"Thank you," Harry said, trying to sound sincere. "If you don't mind, now, I've got to change into my political battle robes." Hermione smiled wryly as she left Harry alone in the room with Bellatrix. As soon as she had exited and walked down the hall, Harry went through his closet and drawers searching for some of the fancy robes Bellatrix had helped him buy not long after he had arrived in the past.

Eventually Harry concluded that he would be wearing black with red, green, or purple. Unfortunately, the black and red set of robes was plainly a product of the seventies. That left green and purple. Not wanting to convey the impression that he was a Slytherin, Harry settled on purple and donned the black and purple robes along with some of the dueling accessories Bellatrix had purchased for him since their arrival in the future.

Harry completed the ensemble by strapping a wand holster to each arm and reminding himself that he needed to check with Ollivander about whether he could safely use Voldemort's holly wand. Finding that the black and purple robes featured a hood concealed in the lining, Harry brought that out and shielded his face as he left his flat and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, he used the Floo to take him to the Ministry atrium.

Stepping out of the fireplace and into the corridor leading to the central portion of the atrium, Harry removed the hood and strode purposefully to the main desk, noting that nearly all the damage from the night before had been repaired, the notable exception being the central fountain.

The guard at the desk was not really paying attention to traffic in the atrium, but seeing Harry's shadow loom over the desktop, he made his cursory inquiry. "Name and business, please."

"Harry Black," Harry declared. "I'm here to see Minister Prewitt."

Eyes bulging, the guard jerked his head up and stared into Harry's green eyes. Harry did his best to make them look intimidating, hoping that maybe he could eventually discourage people from staring at him. At least he's not looking for my scar, Harry thought to himself.

"Mr. Black," the guard said, scrambling around for a badge. "Of course, of course. Uh . . ."

"Ahem," came another person's voice.

Both Harry and the desk guard looked over to find Percy Weasley studying them.

"Minister Prewitt has sent me to escort Mr. Black up immediately," Percy said in a rather formal tone as he handed Harry a badge.

"Should I check his wand?" the guard asked.

"I believe protocol requires that," Percy said stiffly.

The guard nervously accepted the yew wand from Harry and looked relieved when his machine declared that it was registered to Harry Ashworth Black. He handed it back and gestured to where Harry had the holly wand holstered. "The detector says you have one there."

"I think we all know where I got that wand," Harry said.

The guard looked to Percy who nodded and motioned for Harry to follow him. It was in the lift that Percy decided to address Harry directly. "Were you the one who was at our flat that one night?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm sorry if I unduly distressed your wife."

"You bloody well saved us," Percy said, his overly formal façade breaking for a moment. "Any distress was well worth it. Were you specifically eyeing our flat like you were probably eyeing the Burrow when it was attacked?"

"I'm afraid it was just mere luck that led me to your flat that night," Harry admitted. "You should be careful. I don't think they were just randomly targeting you."

Percy nodded. "We figured that out. The Ministry sent out a crew to bolster the security on our flat soon after."

"Good," Harry said as the lift dinged an announcement that they were on the Minister's floor.

After a bit of clamor, Harry found himself in a chair in Prewitt's office with both his wands, despite the strenuous objections of Prewitt's bodyguards. Prewitt, who had been forced to rise from his perch at Harry's arrival, returned from where he had conversed with his bodyguards at the door and sat down behind his desk. "Harry Ashworth Black," he said, eyeing Harry has if he was seeing a ghost.

"Feel free to call me Harry, Minister," Harry said, sounding perhaps a bit impatient.

"And me Davian," Prewitt responded.

"Very well, Davian," Harry said. "What can I do for you today?"

"I want this war to be over," Prewitt said. "I want victory. I want the next generation to know peace."

Harry nodded sympathetically, though his response seemed a bit cold. "Just about everybody wants that."

Prewitt arose from his seat and wandered to one of the windows behind his desk that overlooked the atrium. He stared out for a moment, perhaps pondering the events of the night before. "But do you want to see the end of this war, Harry? You are the one surviving member of the cabal that pushed things in this direction. You started this war."

"The war was inevitable, Davian," Harry said. "The Dark Lord would have launched his activities sooner or later."

"I suppose you are correct in that regard," Prewitt admitted, walking back from the window and slumping into his chair. "Would you be so kind to explain to me how precisely things played out between you and the Blacks?"

Harry shrugged. "Orion assigned me to nose around Hogwarts for clues about the source of the unrest we were seeing in society at that time. I discovered the Dark Lord's existence and reported everything I could learn to Orion. At that point, Orion and Romulus took steps to put Cygnus into power. I think you know how everything else played out from there."

"You were a spy for the Blacks, then," Prewitt observed. "And now you are Lord Black. Would you care to explain how that happened?"

"Sorry, but no," Harry said. "It was an unanticipated consequence of my more private interactions with the Black family."

"So, the story about you being Orion's bastard son might be true," Prewitt said, bringing his withered face into a smile.

Harry frowned. "I cannot deny that the bastard theory is logical even if it is not true."

"At least reassure me that you legitimately gained control of the Black wealth," Prewitt said.

"It was completely legitimate," Harry said. "But, I do not want to explain to you or anybody."

"How much did you know about Cygnus's administration? Particularly after Orion died?" Prewitt asked, moving on.

Harry shrugged yet again. "I knew some things. He wasn't really Minister long enough for anything major to happen."

"True," Prewitt agreed. "It seems odd that he would leave you teaching at Hogwarts when he could have drawn on your talents more directly.

Beginning to feel irritated by Prewitt's suspicious nature, Harry still managed to be civil. "If you must know, Cygnus announced his intention to make me one of his undersecretaries on the very night he died. Obviously, his death nixed that plan. I do wonder, Davian, are you planning to discuss the war here and now?"

"Yes, the war here and now is what I want to talk to you about," Prewitt said. "But first, I just have one last inquiry about the past."

"And that is?"

"Where have been all these years?"

Harry sighed. He was not prepared to admit to time traveling, even if he could trust Prewitt to keep his mouth shut about it. "I dueled with the Dark Lord in the past. During the duel, I was seriously injured. The result is that I was recuperating until I started the Ghost of Ashworth ploy to scare the Dark Lord away from some of my friends."

"An injury that took that long to recover from?" Prewitt asked, disbelief plain in his voice.

"I am willing to swear a magical oath that because of a duel with the Dark Lord, I was unable to do anything productive until this past December," Harry said.

Prewitt eyed Harry shrewdly for several moments before nodding. "I'll accept that, as well as an oath that you consider yourself an enemy of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters and that you have no intention to harm me or other innocents."

"Fair enough," Harry said before performing the oath to Prewitt's satisfaction.

"Now, Harry, how do you think I should proceed in advancing the cause against the Dark Lord?"

"I think now might be an opportune time to start aggressively bringing in Death Eaters," Harry said.

"We've been trying that," Prewitt retorted.

"I've developed more effective methods just recently," Harry said diplomatically. "My Ghost of Ashworth ploy forced me to get good at locating Death Eaters in the act of causing trouble."

"Well done, then," Prewitt said. "All right, if we start bringing in Death Eaters by the bushel, that still doesn't solve the Dark Lord problem."

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm getting to that. As you might know, Professor Dumbledore and some of his associates helped to capture and destroy a magical object precious to the Dark Lord. I know of two other objects the Dark Lord values very much. If you were to exert some effort to capture and destroy those objects, the Dark Lord would find himself in a rather vulnerable position."

"Vulnerable to capture or death, perhaps?" Prewitt inquired.

"Yes," Harry said solemnly.

Prewitt leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "So, you fancy that perhaps I send out my Aurors and we gradually bring in lots of Death Eaters and that we somehow get our hands on these objects and destroy them."

"Roughly, yes," Harry said.

"And then when the Dark Lord is vulnerable, you will duel him to the death. Is that it?" Prewitt demanded.

"Well," Harry hedged, "fate seems to have led me into multiple duels with the Dark Lord. But, I imagine that Dumbledore would likely be able to kill the Dark Lord in a duel once he is at his most vulnerable state."

"Quite," Prewitt mused. "He is after all, the most powerful wizard of our age, though rumors are starting to go around about you."

Harry shrugged, doing his best to look non-committal. Dumbledore was powerful and far more educated than anybody alive, but Harry knew from hard experience that Voldemort had more sheer power than Dumbledore. Then, there was of course, the prophecy that had declared Harry to be Voldemort's equal and the only person able to kill Voldemort. Something told him that the essence of the prophecy was still applicable.

"Well, Harry," Prewitt said, finally removing his gaze from the ceiling and focusing on Harry directly, "I am not about to make good on Cygnus's offer to make you an undersecretary. I don't need you wasting your time trying to navigate the bureaucratic channels that have been dug around me. But, I am going to make you a Special Deputy. You'll have whatever authority I want to give you, and you'll answer only to me."

"I see," Harry said slowly, a little bit surprised and wondering what Fudge and Umbridge from his own future would think. They would probably be appalled.

"The Special Deputy position can only be temporary," Prewitt informed Harry. "But, if you help bring this war to a good conclusion, I will see to it that you're appointed to a good position in the Ministry before I retire. If you keep your nose clean and your Wizengamot wife happy, you can be assured of a bright future in Ministry service. In fact, I would not be surprised if you became Minister of Magic one day."

"I do not think I would enjoy being Minister of Magic," Harry said. "I mean, it does seem like a very tough job."

Prewitt nodded. "When this war is over, I'm going to retire. I'm far past retirement age, you know."

"It seems like you were very close to it already back in the seventies," Harry commented.

"Quite," Prewitt said. "Is there a particular part of the Ministry that is attractive to you? You know, for when I appoint you after the war to a position."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I've never really been able envision myself in a world free of the Dark Lord. I used to play Quidditch. It would be a lot of fun to go professional."

"You're too old for the professional leagues," Prewitt said eyeing Harry, "though you certainly have retained an appearance of youth."

"Perhaps you're right," Harry said.

"There's always Magical Games and Sports," Prewitt said to Harry. "Not a bad department to work in, you know."

"We shall see," Harry said. He withdrew a pocket watch from his robes and made a bit of a show of examining it. "I think it is nearly time for me to leave. Before I go, perhaps you could tell me what authority you will be giving me as Special Deputy."

"Your authority will pretty much come in the form of commanding Aurors, for now," Prewitt said. "At the moment, all I can spare you is an Auror squadron under the command of an Auror captain. That's the way it will be unless you can change the balance of this war. If you had any formal Auror training or familiarity with the Auror Corps, I could simply make you a captain and skip this Special Deputy nonsense. But, it seems I must assign a captain to follow your orders for now."

"Very well," Harry said. "I shall make use of the Aurors and set to capturing Death Eaters. If events develop favorably, I might even use them to help me capture the two objects that the Dark Lord will not want destroyed, though I might need more than a squadron in those instances."

Prewitt shrugged. "If you need more, for a specific situation, contact me anytime. We will discuss your needs."

"Very good, then," Harry said. "I should also let you know that I will not bring in every Death Eater I capture. In some cases, it will be more profitable to let them go."

Prewitt sighed. "Don't broadcast that policy to the public, but do what you feel is necessary. Just keep in mind that if you go off your rocker, the Aurors will be letting me know."

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less. And, I am wondering. Could I choose the Auror captain that will be helping me?"

"Who did you have in mind?" Prewitt asked, arching one of his eyebrows.

"Amelia Bones," Harry said.

A slight smirk covered Prewitt's face. "Done."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

When the door to his mother's room at St. Mungo's opened, Leo was surprised to see Harry enter instead of his father. Bravely, Leo tried to summon a smile as Harry shut the door. "You look pretty spiffy, Harry. Who dressed you in that?"

"I did, I suppose," Harry said, sparing a deprecating glance for his black and purple robes. "As impressive as they are, I think I would prefer something a bit more subtle. I only wore them today because I was meeting with Minister Prewitt. How are things here?"

"Not too good," Leo said from where he was sitting in a chair as Harry sat down in the chair Sirius had occupied while in the room. He jerked his head to where Cassie Black lay unconscious on the hospital bed. "She's already dead, really. It's just a few potions keeping her hear beating and whatnot."

"I see," Harry said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence while Leo struggled to keep his composure. Harry, recognizing Leo's emotional state, refrained from speaking.

"Are either of your parents dead?" Leo asked.

Harry took a breath as if to speak, but then paused for a moment. Eventually, he answered. "I was orphaned when I was a very young child. I don't remember very much of it, really. My childhood was difficult at times. It wasn't quite like you losing your mother. You'll always remember her and remember how she died."

Once again, silence permeated the room. After a while, Harry stood. "I should probably leave."

"All right," Leo said.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "Look, if there are any hospital bills or funeral expenses, I would be glad to pay them. You are family, after all."

"I think we're okay," Leo said. "You'd have to speak with my dad, anyway, and I'm not so sure that it would be good to do that right now. He's pretty unhappy, you know. Not quite rational. It's lucky he's off getting dinner, now. I wouldn't say that he blames you for this, but the timing is awkward with you showing up and being head of the Black family and doing some things that could be construed as high-handed."

Harry stared off into space as an expression of deep sadness passed over his face. "To be honest, I think I have been high-handed, Leo. In some ways, at least. Well, maybe not. I was trying my best. War is tough, Leo. I hate it."

"I believe in you, Harry," Leo said.

Harry smiled. "You're very kind. I'm going to be telling some of the members of the Order a lot of information. If you can't be there when I do that, I'll see to it that you learn everything they know."

"I'll look forward to it," Leo said, smiling wanly. "Say, could I see the wand? You know, the one you took from You-Know-Who?"

Harry grinned, drew Voldemort's former holly wand from his holster, and showed it to Leo. "If it wasn't for you, I would never have even thought of stealing his wand, and I would not have been able to do it so smoothly."

"Wicked!" Leo said, eyeing the wand.

Harry holstered the wand. "I'll be seeing you around," he said to Leo before departing from the room. "Give your father my condolences if you think it wise."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

On the way home, Harry stopped at one of Bellatrix's favorite restaurants. There, he ordered one of everything on the menu as well as a copy of the menu while the cashier at the counter eyed his attire with a critical eye. Eventually, Harry received his order in neat take-out boxes, which he managed to shrink into a single bag before apparating home to his flat.

There, he found Ron and Hermione sitting on the couch and looking as if they had been snogging. "Entertaining ourselves, are we?" Harry grinned as he walked into the kitchen and methodically reversed the shrinking spells on each takeout box.

Ron easily overcame his embarrassment and followed Harry into the kitchen. "Planning on having a party?" he inquired as he eyed the takeout boxes that Harry was organizing on the counter.

"It's Bella's welcome back party," Harry said. "Once we figure out what she wants for dinner, you can help ourselves to anything that looks good."

Harry left the kitchen and found Hermione waiting for him in the hall. "Are you ready to wake up Bella?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding very business-like. "There haven't been any complications."

"Excellent," Harry said, motioning for Hermione to lead the way into the bedroom.

Soon, Harry and Hermione were watching Bellatrix clear her throat as she sat up in bed and tried to get her bearings. "What happened?" she asked, sounding a bit weak.

"You became a casualty of war," Harry said. "But it seems you've survived." He handed her the copy of the menu from the restaurant. "What do you want for dinner?"

Bellatrix eyed Harry and Hermione suspiciously. "What are you trying to cover up?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "I just thought it would be nice to get you something for dinner."

It seemed that Bellatrix recognized the menu, for she requested a specific shrimp dish after glancing at the menu for only a second. Harry handed the menu to Hermione. "Would you be so kind?" He pointed to another dish on the menu. "I think I'd like that one. You and Ron can have all the rest if you like."

Hermione obliged, leaving Harry and Bellatrix alone.

"Tell me what happened," Bellatrix demanded, still sounding suspicious.

Harry found a chair and sat down on it backwards, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "It seems you and Dumbledore managed to get taken out of the game early on. Then, the Dark Lord paid a visit just as Moody found the horcrux and ran off with it. Fortunately, Rose had the presence of mind to send a distress signal to here to the flat. Hermione woke me up, and I rushed to the Ministry where I stole the Dark Lord's wand and sent him packing until the next time. I even brought you back here with me," Harry concluded slyly.

At that point, Hermione returned with the meals for Harry and Bellatrix. The conversation resumed once Hermione had retreated from the room and after Harry and Bellatrix had a chance to begin eating.

"So, you stole the Dark Lord's wand?" Bellatrix asked curiously.

"Yes," Harry said as he gave a detailed explanation of how he learned to steal wands and how he had done so during the duel with Voldemort.

"Bravo, Harry. Bravo," Bellatrix said softly. "And the horcrux?"

"Destroyed."

"Good," Bellatrix said. "I suppose everybody knows that you're alive now."

"Yes," Harry said, smiling. "The dining room table is groaning with all the mail we've gotten."

"I will handle all of that," Bellatrix volunteered.

"I'm grateful."

"As long as you promise to let me sign you up for interviews or meetings that I feel would be advantageous."

"I'd prefer not," Harry sighed.

Bellatrix shrugged as she poked at a small shrimp with a fork. "It's a small price, Harry, really.

"Whatever."

"Did you do anything today?" Bellatrix asked.

"I got appointed to be a Special Deputy to the Minister," Harry said, finishing his meal and yawning. He then launched into an explanation of his meeting with Prewitt and answered Bellatrix's questions.

"This is a very good development," Bellatrix declared. "Do try to avoid arresting Wizengamot members if you can, though. They could be valuable later on. Save them for last unless they are likely to become, as an individual, a serious public nuisance."

"I'll see what I can do," Harry promised, eyeing Bellatrix askance. "I take it you already have plans for the Wizengamot."

"I intend to set up shop as a fully active Wizengamot member," Bellatrix said. "I have done all I can with the horcruxes, I think."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I'm sorry about not figuring out the third horcrux. I saw some things, but it will take me a while to sort them out, I think."

"Let me know if you need help," Bellatrix said as she too finished her meal. She then sat there staring at Harry.

Harry set aside the takeout box that had held his dinner and took care of Bellatrix's as well. "You know Bella, when I saw you on the floor of the atrium, I was very . . . sad. It was horrible having to think that I might lose you."

Bellatrix looked at Harry tenderly. "That's very sweet of you, Harry. But, I am quite sure you would have gotten along without me eventually. I wouldn't want you living out your days as a grieving widower."

"I don't think there is anybody who could replace you," Harry said. "Don't you feel the same about me?"

"Of course," Bellatrix said, perhaps a little too quickly. She grinned impishly at Harry. "Why don't you give me a kiss and show me how much you missed me? Just be careful on my ribs, though."

41. The Phantom Horcrux

A/N: As always, many thanks for your reviews and support.

Episode 40: The Phantom Horcrux

Lord Silvere

Severus Snape maintained a mask of cool indifference as Voldemort waved his arm and wandlessly banished a table across the room. The assortment of wands that had been on the table clattered as they fell to the floor near three Death Eaters that were kneeling in front of the Dark Lord. "Unacceptable!" Voldemort hissed.

"There are precious few wands available, especially on such short notice," one of the Death Eaters said, in effect pleading for her life from beneath the hood that covered her face.

"Stop robbing secondhand shops!" Voldemort barked as he paced back and forth in front of the kneeling Death Eaters. "Wands found in secondhand shops are categorically unacceptable! Because Ollivander and every other wandmaker is too well protected, you must seek heirloom wands. Old, valuable wands kept by the pureblood families. Wands buried with their master or mistress."

"You told us to limit our raids," one of the other Death Eaters mumbled. "Which of your orders are we supposed to follow?"

"Both!" Voldemort said, nearly on the verge of shrieking. "You must be sneaky. You must display finesse! And whatever you do, do not get captured by Lord Black!"

"It shall be—"

"Leave." Voldemort said coldly.

The three Death Eaters scrambled to their feet and exited the room through the metal door that had been magicked into the wall of an underground cavern.

Snape had the great pleasure of remaining alone in the room with Voldemort. Eventually, Voldemort saw fit to resume the conversation that the three Death Eaters had interrupted. "What of the basilisk's corpse, Severus?"

"Destroyed," Snape said, "by fire. Dumbledore thinks it was done by Ashworth."

"His name is Lord Black," Voldemort hissed.

"Forgive me Great Lord," Severus said. "I did not think you would want me to . . . embellish your enemy's status any more than necessary."

"Lord Black dueled with me and took my wand, Severus. He is the head of an ancient and noble house. Though he is a blood traitor worthy of death, he stands at my level."

Snape bowed his head deeper. "It shall be as you say."

"As it should," Voldemort said. "What of the basilisk's venom? Was it harvested?"

"Very likely so," Snape admitted. "Had it merely burned with the corpse, it would have left signs of corrosion on the floor of the Chamber."

Voldemort's nostrils flared as he internalized his anger and displeasure. He stewed this way for several minutes before a knock at the door signaled the entrance of one of the Death Eater guards. "My lord, you have another visitor."

"Leave me, Severus," Voldemort said immediately.

Severus was surprised by this turn of events. "But, my lord, I have my weekly report on the Order."

"I have matters more urgent than the Order's activities with which to concern myself," Voldemort said, gesturing for Snape to leave.

Feeling both slighted and relieved, Snape left the room as another hooded Death Eater sauntered into Voldemort's sanctuary.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

On the morning of Cassie Black's funeral, an owl from the Ministry found Harry and Bellatrix eating breakfast together in their flat. When Harry opened the envelope, a gold badge fell out from among the folded stack of parchment sheets.

"You made head boy!" Bellatrix exclaimed.

"You're so funny," Harry said sarcastically. "I can't even stop laughing." Ignoring the gold badge, he unfolded the parchment sheets and examined them.

"What do they say?" Bellatrix inquired.

After skimming the first sheet, Harry flicked it toward Bellatrix. "That's Minister Prewitt making nice to me." He examined the second sheet. "As Special Deputy to Davian Prewitt, Minister of Magic, I am entitled to the services of an Auror captain and a squadron of Aurors. By default, Amelia Bones will be that captain. The number of Aurors in the squadron may not exceed ten. Should Captain Bones be unavailable, I am entitled to assistance from a captain of equal or lesser value . . ."

"Blah, blah, blah," Bellatrix said as she used a knife to cut her sausage. "What about the rest?"

Harry shrugged and shuffled through the rest of the materials Minister Prewitt had sent him. "Looks like he has a list of Wizengamot members he thinks are Death Eaters but who he would rather not see go to Azkaban."

"Give me that," Bellatrix said, reaching across the table and grabbing the papers away from Harry. She examined them rapidly, having abandoned the remains of her breakfast. "He's one step ahead of me," she mused.

Harry rolled his eyes and speared an extra sausage link with his fork. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Worry not," Bellatrix grumbled. "There are many ways to milk a hippogriff."

Harry choked on his sausage. "I didn't know you could milk a hippogriff."

"Try not to be so literal," Bellatrix advised Harry. She looked at his clothes appraisingly. "You need to go refresh your wardrobe this morning. You have nothing decent to wear to work, and you are going to need to look your best at the funeral."

"Right," Harry agreed, already having suffered through a wardrobe inventory prior to meeting with Minister Prewitt. "I was going to stop by Ollivander's shop this morning, too."

"Excellent," Bellatrix said as she continued to eye the papers Prewitt had sent Harry.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry's stop at Madam Malkin's proved to be profitable for Harry and the seamstress. He walked out of the store with a set of robes suitable for both work and the funeral, a promise that a few more robes would be mailed to him by the next morning, and the assurance that he could order more robes via owl without having to be measured again.

The wand shop turned out to be more complicated, for not only had the war caused Ollivander and the Ministry to take safety precautions, but the events of recent days had prompted the Ministry to heighten security further. Harry's new gold badge got him past the security relatively quickly, and he was soon speaking to Ollivander.

"Mr. Black," Ollivander said by way of greeting, his eyes gleaming strangely. "I assume you wish for me to examine your recent acquisition."

"Yes," Harry said, drawing the holly wand and handing it to the aged wandmaker. "Can you tell me whether I will be able to use it safely?"

Ollivander examined the wand for several long minutes. "It is in good condition," he declared. "After all, it has seen regular exercise."

"Quite," Harry said feeling reminded of the speech Ollivander had given in the alternate future about great and terrible things.

Ollivander continued to study it and eventually frowned. "Stealing the wand from the Dark Lord's hand has not properly won you the wand's allegiance, Mr. Black. However, it would seem that you are . . . potent enough to command its full cooperation."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry wondered. "Should I ever use it?"

Ollivander nodded. "You can use it safely, but it still recognizes the Dark Lord as its proper owner. You'll have to defeat him legitimately before you can ever rest assured that the wand is yours and yours alone." He handed the wand to Harry. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to test my words. I have never seen a wand owned by two people."

Harry shrugged and cast a bluebell flame charm on the counter. After a few seconds, he cancelled it out.

"It works," Ollivander said. "Perhaps it is because the phoenix feather in your own wand comes from the same phoenix that made this wand."

It occurred to Harry that he was supposed to act impressed or surprised at hearing this news, but he did not feel up to it. "That could be a good explanation," Harry said before saying farewell and departing.

At the Ministry, Harry was once again compelled to have his default wand weighed, but the guard was able to take Harry's badge and magically connect his wand to it. So long as Harry did not lose his wand in a duel or interfere with the identification charm, he would be able to flash his badge and bypass security whenever he visited the Ministry.

Past the guard desk, Harry found a lift and made his way to the floor that housed the Magical Law Enforcement offices. The staff members in the DMLE lobby recognized Harry immediately. His gold badge added to their surprise at his visit, but upon his request, they showed him to Amelia Bones's office.

"Mr. . . . Black," Amelia said by way of greeting, scrambling to pull out one of the spare chairs for Harry.

"Captain Bones," Harry said, accepting the proffered chair and watching as Amelia straightened up the papers that were littered across the top of her desk. "You could just call me Harry."

"Harry, then," Amelia said. "Call me Amelia."

Harry nodded, signaling that he would do so.

"So," Amelia said, "I guess you're now my superior officer."

Harry shrugged. "Let's just be partners."

"That's awfully generous," Amelia said neutrally, only letting a small display of her appreciation past a blasé mask of collegiality. "I mean, I don't think your wife would so easily surrender an advantage like that."

"Yeah, well, Bellatrix is Bellatrix and not me," Harry said. "Her political machinations are her own. If I were you, I wouldn't get involved. If you're concerned about moving up the ladder in the Ministry, I think that will happen naturally. If all goes well, the two of us are about to be instrumental in ending this war."

"Let's do it then," Amelia said briskly, leaning forward and resting her arms on the desk. "But before we get started, could you tell me how you did all that Ghost of Ashworth stuff?"

"Just a simple illusion spell and some stealth," Harry explained. He reached into his robes and withdrew a sheet of parchment. "I've made a copy of the map you came up with." He handed it to her. "I got a couple of Death Eaters to allow me to use them to add more Death Eaters to the map. I made some promises—protection, leniency, etc."

Amelia studied her copy of the map. "So, we're going to start going after Death Eaters."

"Yes, I think that would be our next step," Harry said. "I think by night."

"It would be easier to strike by night, though I could imagine the occasional exception," Amelia mused. "The only problem I see is that Death Eaters are generally spread out in ones and twos. Once they realize we're coming for them, they're likely to become more difficult to deal with."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "I'll let you think about that. I'm going to be spending plenty of my time thinking about two magical objects the Dark Lord has. We'll need to go after those, eventually. I know what one is, but I need to think about the other and figure out where that is."

"All right," Amelia said. "When were you thinking of going out on our first raid?"

"A few nights from now," Harry said. "We probably shouldn't make too much of a pattern out of it, so consider that when scheduling. Do you have a squadron already set up?"

Amelia shook her head. "We're a little bit informal on squadron organization. I'll have to organize one and get approval for it to be essentially permanent and subject to our erratic schedule. It won't be difficult, though. Once word spreads the information that you are involved, I think plenty of Aurors will jump aboard. I do wish we were staring up sooner than a couple of days, though. I could have something thrown together by tonight."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I have some things that I need to do. Coming back from the dead is a little bit complicated."

"I see," Amelia said.

"But," Harry said, not wanting to disappoint, "I think we could make one arrest immediately."

"What do you mean?"

"I have reliable information that Barty Crouch, Jr. is a Death Eater. If he's here at work, let's arrest him, right now," Harry said.

"Do you have proof?" Amelia said, clearly shocked at the accusation. "I mean, it does make sense to a certain extent, but we would be moving against Director Crouch's son. If you were wrong, we would be in a lot of trouble, even if you are a Special Deputy."

Harry smiled and stood up. "I am extremely confident. Let us go pay him a visit. Where might we find him?"

Amelia led the way down a maze of halls until they found another office door that was propped open. She pointed silently. Harry nodded and drew his wand. Amelia followed suit. They approached the office, and Harry used his foot to nudge the door open. Inside, Barty sat at a barren desk, staring calmly at his two visitors, hardly fazed by them pointing wands at him.

"Captain Bones, and Mr. Black, is it? What brings you here?" Barty inquired.

"Captain Bones is going to arrest you on suspicion of you being a Death Eater," Harry said, feeling a little bit smug.

Crouch's eyes narrowed. "That's a bold accusation. My father will not tolerate this."

Harry found it ironic that Crouch was hiding behind the father he despised. He was tempted to hone in on that and tease Barty a bit, but he just wanted to get it over with. "Do you deny the accusation?" Harry asked.

"Of course I do," Barty said, smiling as he pulled back both his sleeves. "As you can see, I do not bear the Dark Mark.

Amelia let out a depressed sigh. "Look, Barty, this was just a misun—"

"No, it is not a misunderstanding," Harry said. He stepped forward and reached out to grab Barty's arm.

With lightning speed, Barty drew his wand and coiled as if preparing to leap across the top of his desk, but Harry had been expecting it and Amelia herself had good reflexes. Two stunners hit him, one after the other, and Barty was unconscious in his chair. Harry holstered his primary wand and drew the holly wand. With it, he prodded Barty's arm, hissing various phrases and spells in Parseltongue. Eventually, a revealing spell caused the Dark Mark to appear on Barty's arm.

"There we are," Harry said.

Amelia stared at it. "How did you know?"

"I just did," Harry said, not wishing to explain his knowledge from the alternate future or that he had seen confirmation in Voldemort's mind during the horcrux search.

"That doesn't fly," Amelia said doubtfully.

"What does it matter how I knew?" Harry asked. "He's a Ministry employee, subject to us checking for the Dark Mark."

Amelia sighed. "Well, now we have to deal with his father. Any ideas for that?"

Harry pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "I suggest that you ensure that there are as many witnesses as possible. We don't want Crouch sweeping this under the carpet. I'm afraid that I am due at a funeral. But, if you go out and yell down the hall that you've arrested Barty for being a Death Eater, I'm sure you'll have plenty of support."

"You speak more truly than you know," Amelia said before Harry made his farewells and took off down the hall.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Although overcast, the weather was accommodating enough to allow Cassie Black's funeral services to be held in the graveyard next to Ravenbourgh. Not wanting to join their parents and Rose on the front row with Sirius and Leo, Sidra and John Potter found seats for themselves near the back. They sat there alone until Harry and Bellatrix joined them.

"Greetings, Potter munchkins," Bellatrix said as she and Harry sat down.

Sidra glowered at Bellatrix. "You're hilarious."

"I know," Bellatrix said, peering around and noting that several empty rows separated them from the rest of the guests that had arrived. "You do know how to pick seats."

Sidra sighed. "You are perfectly free to move up. In fact, I encourage it. Though, I suppose Harry can stay, if he wants."

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling at Sidra and winking at John.

"But I specifically sat here so that I could speak with you," Bellatrix said to Sidra.

"About what?"

Bellatrix's smile seemed somewhat foreboding. "I would like to offer you a job as my secretary."

"Your secretary?" Sidra spluttered. "What makes you think I'm looking for a job? And, for your information, old lady, the term is executive assistant, not secretary."

There was a glint in Bellatrix's violet eyes, but her tone of voice remained the same. "You just completed your seventh year at Hogwarts. Why would you not be looking for a job? Surely, you do not want to embarrass your relatives by remaining home and setting up shop as sulky smart aleck. I am giving you the opportunity to be a productive, respected member of society. As personal secretary to a powerful member of the Wizengamot, you would learn much, gain respect from others, and have access to many opportunities."

"Really? You, a powerful member of the Wizengamot? You haven't even shown your face at a Wizengamot meeting let alone cast a vote," Sidra retorted.

"I am rich. Therefore, I am powerful," Bellatrix said simply.

Harry cleared his throat. "Really, Sidra, this is a good opportunity. Bella would pay you a salary equivalent to that of somebody who has five years of seniority at the Ministry. You could afford a flat for yourself, and many of your meals would be covered by an expense account."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at Harry, but focused back on Sidra. "If you are going to have expense account meals, you will have to be on call nearly every hour of every day."

Sidra, while often disagreeable, did have the ability to recognize something good when she saw it. "Well, I suppose I could consider it. When would I start?"

Bellatrix looked toward Cassie's coffin. "How long is the funeral likely to last?"

Harry coughed and shot Bellatrix a stern glance before looking at Sidra. "I think tomorrow morning will be soon enough."

"Fine. Tomorrow morning," Bellatrix acquiesced. "You will go to the Ministry and inquire at the front desk. By that time, I will have acquired the use of one of the vacant Wizengamot office suites. As a further display of my generosity, I shall allow you to choose your job title. You have a choice between personal secretary and personal peon."

"I haven't accepted just yet," Sidra said, thoroughly outraged over the job title situation.

"Accepted what?" came Lily's voice.

Unfortunately for Sidra, this was when her younger brother decided to chime in. "Madam Black has just offered to let Sidra work as her personal peon!"

"She said personal secretary, you dolt!" Sidra barked.

"That's wonderful!" Lily exclaimed as Bellatrix smiled.

Sidra sighed, not sure where to feel cheated or blessed.

Not noticing her daughter's distress, Lily focused on Harry and Bellatrix and changed the subject. "I was hoping to invite you two over to a dinner later this evening, but somebody else has insisted on hosting the funeral meal. Is there any chance that you could come to dinner in a day or two?"

"Actually," Harry said, "we ourselves were planning to invite you and a select few to dinner in a day or two. I think it is time that Bella and I offered some explanations about what has been happening."

"That would be good as well," Lily said. "Who were you thinking of inviting?"

"Professor Dumbledore, of course," Harry said, "and a few others. Much of the information we will discuss is confidential information, so I am afraid the guest list will be somewhat restrictive."

"We'll look forward to that invitation," Lily said. "But I must insist that you two come for dinner another time."

"Of course," Bellatrix assented.

Lily nodded, seemingly pleased. "The service is about to start. Hopefully, I'll be seeing you soon." With that, she returned to the front to sit by James, who was sitting next to Sirius.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"We set the custodial staff to cleaning as soon as you submitted your request, Madam," one of the administrative clerks of the Wizengamot said, informing Bellatrix of the status of her office suite as she and Bellatrix made their way down one of the halls on the same floor as the Ministry courtrooms. "Unfortunately, it still is not ready."

"I hope you can have it completely ready by tomorrow," Bellatrix said, frowning slightly as she eyed the hallway. The light from the courtroom and clerks' office hallway spilled into the corridor down which Bellatrix and the nameless clerk were walking. The corridor's own lighting was quite dim. "I think it would also be appropriate if you were to have this hall cleaned and lighted better. Décor probably is not in the budget, but you should have what furnishings there are repaired."

"If you think it is necessary, Madam," the clerk said hesitantly, continuing to lead Bellatrix down the hall.

"Why would it not be necessary?" Bellatrix asked. "These hallways house the offices of sitting Wizengamot members. Presumably the Wizengamot still functions."

The clerk stopped in front of a pair of elegant doors as tall as the ceiling. "Most of the active members of the Wizengamot hold Ministry positions," she said. "Thus, they have offices on the upper levels."

"And the inactive ones?"

The clerk sighed. "With You-Know-Who on the loose, many do not want to risk doing business or being seen in public—especially not in a place that could be a target. And then, there are the Wizengamot members of questionable status . . . you know, potential Death Eaters. Nobody wants to see them appear at Wizengamot proceedings, and they fear that if they come, they will be arrested or questioned. In the end, it's usually just Minister Prewitt's administration that conducts the Wizengamot's business."

"Fascinating," Bellatrix said, somehow squeezing her opinion of the situation into one sarcastic word. She looked at the elegant doors. "I presume that these mark the entrance to my offices."

"I realize it isn't as close to the courtrooms and meeting rooms as others," the clerk said, "but it is bigger and nicer than many of the rest."

"It will do," Bellatrix said. "If I need help, I will come and find you."

"Um, okay," the clerk said, nodding deferentially and taking her leave as quickly as possible.

Wondering how long Minister Prewitt had been profiting from the Wizengamot's apparent willingness to let him do as he pleased, Bellatrix pushed open the doors to her new office and strode in. She found herself in a musty anteroom that featured a couple of faded armchairs and a coffee table. In one corner sat a desk set for a receptionist or secretary. Beyond the secretary desk, another pair of double doors marked the entrance to Bellatrix's office proper.

Bellatrix entered and found an overly ornate desk, which featured a straight-backed chair not unlike the sort in the Grimmauld Place dining room. Bellatrix walked around the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down in it, wincing at the poor condition of the cushioning, but silently expressing gratitude that it at least had arms.

After several minutes of acclimatizing to and examining her new domain, Bellatrix removed a satchel from her robes, enlarged it, and began unloading the contents into her desk. Following that, she retrieved a sheet of parchment and a quill from her desk and began making a list of renovations she would be making to the office at her own expense.

Bellatrix had completed the renovation list and was well into an extremely long to-do list for Sidra when a chime echoed through her office. Frowning, Bellatrix drew her wand and stood to investigate. She proceeded to the anteroom and into the hall, but found nobody. Deciding to inquire at the clerks' office, Bellatrix strode down the dim hallway, into the main corridor, and into the clerks' office. The clerks on duty looked up at their new visitor.

"I just heard a chime. What was it?" Bellatrix asked.

"It means a proceeding in which Wizengamot members may participate is being convened," said one of the clerks who apparently had been appointed to deal with Bellatrix while the others returned to their tasks.

"There are no scheduled Wizengamot meetings," Bellatrix countered.

"Must be last-minute," the clerk said.

"Well, where is it?" Bellatrix demanded. "Take me there."

"Yes, Madam," the clerk said, abandoning her desk and preparing to lead Bellatrix.

"You need robes," called another clerk.

"I hope you have some spares," Bellatrix said.

Relatively quickly, the clerks had provided Bellatrix with a set of black robes and a black hat, and one of them was showing Bellatrix toward the Wizengamot entrance for courtroom in which the proceeding was being held.

"It's just through there," the clerk said.

"Thank you," Bellatrix said, restraining her irritation at lack of notice of the meeting and unfamiliar costume she was now wearing. The clerk left, and Bellatrix entered the door, walked up a set of stairs, and entered the courtroom through an open archway.

Slightly more than a dozen Wizengamot and Ministry bureaucrats were mingling among the Wizengamot seats. Bellatrix's arrival caused a little bit of a stir. Ultimately, it was Amelia Bones who emerged from the crowd to greet Bellatrix.

"I'm surprised you're here," Amelia said.

"I happened to be in the Ministry," Bellatrix said. "Is it customary to hold these impromptu sessions?"

"Actually, yes," Amelia admitted. "They used to schedule big meetings and send out urgent notice for these smaller, unscheduled meetings, but very few who were not already at the Ministry for work ever came."

"I see," Bellatrix said as she watched several more Wizengamot members stream into the courtroom. "What is this meeting for?"

"It's the trial of Barty Crouch, Jr.," Amelia answered.

Bellatrix was about to reply, but a silence had fallen over the room. Looking around, Bellatrix was able to discern the reason for the silence. Director Crouch had arrived. Apparently, he was to preside at his son's trial.

"You haven't formally been sworn in," Amelia whispered to Bellatrix, "but I think I can take care of that before the trial begins."

"Isn't Minister Prewitt going to come?" Bellatrix asked, also whispering, although the volume of the crowd had returned to its normal level.

"He doesn't come to these unpublicized trials," Amelia said. "I don't think Director Crouch would prefer it today anyway."

The sound of Director Crouch banging his gavel served as the signal for the Wizengamot members to take their seats.

"Sit with me," Amelia invited Bellatrix.

Bellatrix followed Amelia and sat next to her on one of the benches that overlooked the lower part of the courtroom from the side. Turning her head, Bellatrix surveyed the turnout. While the Wizengamot members were not completely sparse, Bellatrix did notice a large number of empty seats.

"This meeting of the Wizengamot is called to order," Director Crouch said loudly. "We will hear—"

"Point of order!" Amelia called out.

"Yes, Captain Bones?" Crouch asked, looking quite irritated.

"My esteemed colleague, Madam Black, has only recently received her appointment to the Wizengamot. I move that the oath of office be administered to her immediately so that she may cast votes and participate in all further Wizengamot proceedings.

"Your motion is acknowledged," Crouch said. "Is there anybody to second it?"

There was an awkward silence.

"It's customary to arrange this beforehand," Amelia whispered apologetically to Bellatrix. "They're not being rude, they just assume someone else is supposed to do it."

"I second the motion," called a voice from the other side of the courtroom.

Crouch nodded to the wizard who had seconded the motion. "Director Foxe, perhaps you would be so kind to administer the oath."

"Very well," said Andrew Foxe. He looked across the courtroom at Bellatrix. "Madam Black, please draw your wand and repeat after me."

Bellatrix then uttered the magically binding oath. Without further ado, she sat back down and the meeting progressed.

"Interesting ally you have there," Amelia said, eyeing Andrew Foxe, who had focused his attention on Director Crouch.

Yes, quite," Bellatrix said, also looking across the courtroom. "Who is that man sitting next to him? The one still staring at me."

"That would be Edward Foxe," Amelia whispered. "He's the chief Unspeakable. Now that Andrew has returned and can actively exercise his Wizengamot privileges, I would not be surprised if they begin mounting a power grab. From the look of things, this war will be over soon, and there will be plenty of vacuums to fill."

"Quite," Bellatrix said quietly as Director Crouch finished whatever he was saying and directed that the actual trial begin.

A frost that materialized near the center of the floor signaled that the Dementors, and presumably, their prisoner had arrived in the holding cell beneath the courtroom. The main doors of the courtroom then opened to admit a number of Aurors that would stand guard around the perimeter of the room.

"They don't actually let the Dementors in the courtroom," Amelia said to Bellatrix.

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Bellatrix muttered back to Amelia as the floor opened and Barty, strapped to the witness chair, rose through the floor.

Without any apparent feeling, Director Crouch read the indictment that accused his son of being a Death Eater, resisting arrest, and a slew of associated crimes. He then inquired how Barty, Jr., wanted to plead.

Barty grinned crookedly. "I plead guilty, father."

"You're no son of mine," Crouch said without emotion.

"That's always been the case, hasn't it?" Barty snarled.

Crouch ignored the comment. "Since you have seen fit to plead guilty, the Wizengamot's judgment regarding your guilt is unnecessary. The statutory punishment for your crimes is—"

"Excuse me," Bellatrix called out.

Director Crouch glared at Bellatrix. "Yes, Madam Black?"

"The hastiness of this proceeding concerns me," Bellatrix said. "Wasn't he arrested only this morning? And now, we're already sentencing him and presumably sending him to Azkaban tonight?"

"He admitted his guilt!" Director Crouch retorted. "What else is there to do?"

"I think there should be a more extensive investigation, more interrogation, and a more detailed indictment," Bellatrix said, scrambling to find reasons for why the trial should not be over so quickly.

"Do you doubt his guilt?" Crouch demanded.

"Well . . . ," Bellatrix said, at a loss for words.

Barty leered up at Bellatrix. "It was your husband who personally gave the order for me to be arrested. Perhaps one day, he will realize how serious a mistake it was."

"Madam Black," Director Crouch said, sounding like he was addressing a small child, "quite simply, the prisoner has been indicted for a number of crimes to which he confessed after being arrested. It is entirely possible that he is guilty of other crimes. But, that does not matter. What he has pleaded guilty to qualifies him for a life sentence in Azkaban. The other things he might have done are now moot. If you wish, you can move to have these crimes investigated and prosecuted at another date. But for now, I suggest that you let us proceed."

Seeing no other alternative, Bellatrix sat back and watched as Director Crouch declared that the statutory penalty Barty faced was life in Azkaban. The Director then called for a confirmation vote on the sentence from the Wizengamot.

"Seems pointless," Bellatrix grumbled to Amelia.

"This is where the Wizengamot can argue for a more lenient or severe sentence," Amelia whispered as the vote got underway. "Because Barty did not confess to any specific murder, the Kiss is not the automatic statutory penalty, but it is technically still possible."

"Oh, great," Bellatrix said, almost forgetting to keep her voice low. "Apparently you can be arrested at breakfast and get Kissed before dinner."

"Ideally, only if you're guilty," Amelia defended. "As it is, I think your objection may have spared Barty from the Kiss. You forced Crouch to declare that if further punishment is warranted, we can always launch an investigation and prosecution later."

"This must be the most awful debut a Wizengamot member has made in decades," Bellatrix sighed.

"It's not bad," Amelia said. "You merely insisted on a more organized approach to Death Eater prosecutions."

"It's about to get worse," Bellatrix said.

"How?" Amelia whispered, but it was too late for Bellatrix to answer.

The Wizengamot official responsible for counting the vote had reached Bellatrix. "Madam Black, do you vote for or against sentencing Barty Crouch, Jr., to a life imprisonment in Azkaban?"

"I decline to cast a vote in this matter," Bellatrix said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Wow," Harry said, "you made the front page after only an afternoon, evening, and half the night on the job." He looked up from the Daily Prophet and grinned at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix scowled at Harry as she refilled her glass of orange juice. The exhausted look in her eyes intensified the scowl. Harry had been asleep by the time she had come home from the office. "Are you sure he was a Death Eater, that this wasn't some elaborate scam by Director Crouch?"

"In my future, he was one of the Dark Lord's most devoted followers," Harry said.

"Apparently I was, too," Bellatrix said.

"Yes, but I didn't see you in the Dark Lord's mind while I was horcrux hunting," Harry replied. "Fear not; Crouch deserves life in Azkaban. I do wonder what the point of you not voting at all was, though."

Bellatrix sipped her orange juice and watched sullenly as Harry flipped through the newspaper pages and settled on the comics. "It was politically expedient. Something did not smell right yesterday. Obviously, I could not vote against punishing him, but neither could I vote in favor if I want to draw attention to any irregularities at a later time."

"You're gambling on finding irregularities," Harry said.

"Well, you are the one with the figurative crystal ball," Bellatrix retorted. "Tell me, is it possible that Barty Crouch is doing something improper?"

"I think it is highly likely," Harry said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed, abandoning the newspaper in favor of his own glass of orange juice. "In many ways, he is more concerned about power and prestige than winning the war, I should think. But please, don't try to oust him unless you have a better candidate in mind."

"I am not out to oust anybody," Bellatrix said. "I merely was displeased with what happened yesterday. Something seemed wrong about it."

Harry shrugged. "Well, it wasn't wrongful conviction."

"Whatever," Bellatrix said. "What time are we meeting the Order?"

"Seven," Harry said. "I rented out a room in a Scottish pub. I'm sure Moody will be able to take care of the security wards. I'll apparate back here and pick you up."

"Very good," Bellatrix said, pushing back her chair and standing. "Don't forget your interview with Witch Weekly."

Harry let out a very put-upon sigh. "Is it really necessary?"

"You need good press," Bellatrix called as she strode down the hallway. "Please be absolutely sure to emphasize that you are not a bastard—at least not the bastard of anybody to whom I am closely related."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The Witch Weekly interview proved to be relatively painless, but as Harry departed the magazine's offices, he was still blinking rapidly as his eyes recovered from their exposure to excessive camera flashes. Despite the distance between Witch Weekly and his next destination, the Weasleys' joke shop, Harry opted to walk.

Ignoring the passers-by, who occasionally slowed their own pace to stare at the wizard who had humiliated Lord Voldemort, Harry lost himself in his thoughts. The snake horcrux was both simple and difficult. As he understood the nature of horcruxes from Bellatrix, all he had to do was get in the same room as the snake and unleash some fiendfyre. Unfortunately, Harry was not sure he would be able to get close to the snake—at least, not now that Voldemort knew that Harry knew about horcruxes and the snake being one.

Harry's thoughts then turned to the other horcrux. It had been stored in the basement of Grimmauld Place. The Death Eaters had removed it the same night that they had kidnapped Molly and Lily. Voldemort had merely wished to move it to a new location, but after seeing the Ghost of Ashworth, Voldemort had taken additional steps. He had transformed the essence of the horcrux into a new container—a painful process for a number of victims, and even Voldemort himself.

While probing Voldemort's thoughts, Harry had reflexively flinched at the pain and horror of the process. Unfortunately, Voldemort had expelled Harry from his mind before Harry had the chance to return to that memory and see the new horcrux. Harry felt like he was still missing something. I saw enough, he fumed. I should be able to work it out!

There was only one Weasley twin standing at the sales desk when Harry stepped in and walked straight to the part of the store where the twins kept the instant darkness powder. Grabbing several bags, Harry returned to the front of the store to find both twins standing at the desk.

"You're the bloke who bought the trick wands and Peruvian instant darkness powder and was carrying two Firebolts," one of them said accusingly to Harry.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "I did say it would be a smashing party, didn't I?"

The twins grinned. One of them spoke. "It was brilliant, mate. We've sold out of trick wands."

"I've still got plenty, fortunately," Harry said as he dug out some money.

"Were you thinking of that exact use when you bought the stuff?"

"No," Harry said. "I'm not that good of a prankster. When the opportunity came, I was desperate and was lucky enough to have it all work out."

"Extensive pre-planning is key," one of the twins observed. "But, still, we think you have the makings of an excellent prankster."

"I think you're right," Harry said with a wan smile. After saying farewell, he departed the shop. Outside on the street, he summoned Kreacher, who appeared promptly at his side. "Kreacher," Harry said, "go to Leo and ask him if he and Rose would like to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch."

Without saying anything, Kreacher disappeared, and Harry began his walk down toward the Leaky Cauldron. Before he got there, Kreacher returned and reported that Leo and Rose would meet Harry at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as they could. And they did, for Harry found them waiting when he arrived.

"How are you, Leo?" Harry asked, trying to show sympathy, but not wishing to cause embarrassment.

"Good enough," Leo said.

"His father is taking it the hardest," Rose said, moving toward the dining area of the Leaky Cauldron and helping herself to a seat.

Harry and Leo followed her, and the group was soon ordering from the familiar menu that just about every witch and wizard in Britain had committed to memory.

As soon as the server had moved away, Rose jumped into the formalities of things. "What is it you wanted to discuss, Harry?"

"Quite forward, aren't you?" Harry asked, drawing his wand and casting some subtle privacy charms around their table. The only way anybody would be able to hear them was if they came and stood right next to the table.

"You invited us here," Rose parried.

Harry nodded as he glanced around the inside of the pub. "I'm in the market for another one of those magical objects. I was hoping you might be able to give me some special insight on the matter."

"What makes you think I would have special insight?" Rose asked innocently as Leo looked on uncomfortably.

"I've been around long enough to know that you claim to have seer abilities," Harry replied, frowning at Rose. "Now cut the nonsense and tell me if you're willing to help."

"What do you know about this magical object?" Rose inquired.

Harry explained everything he had seen in Voldemort's mind—where it had originally been stored and that Voldemort had recently seen it. "Is that enough for you?"

"I suppose," Rose said dubiously.

"You've gone on much less in the past," Leo said.

"Yes," Rose admitted, sounding a little bit too serious. "I will attempt to see what it is you seek."

"You have my gratitude," Harry said as the server arrived with their orders.

They ate in silence for a moment before Leo found another topic of conversation. "So, tonight is that big meeting where our parents and Professor Dumbledore get to formally meet the mysterious Harry Black," Leo said. "What are you planning to say?"

Harry grinned. "What should I say, do you think?"

"You will want to establish that you are firmly on our side," Rose said solemnly. "There has been a lot of speculation about your motives, especially considering your wife's naked political ambition and your unexplained absence over the past couple of decades."

"And of course, there is you being Lord Black," Leo said. "I don't know if my father believes it, but some think that there must have been something suspicious going on for you to be able to take control of the House of Black from my grandfather, completely bypassing my father."

Harry stirred his food around on his plate and then smiled at the two teens. "So, I've just got to convince everybody that my motives are pure and that I legitimately came by the Lord Black title?"

"That's putting it a little too simply," Rose said. "If you stick to those two things, you will be able to dodge explaining where you were. Some of the Order feels almost like you abandoned them, especially my mum. Even if you were injured, surely you could have sent word."

"And told us how to end this war," Leo said quietly. "Before so many people died. I'm not blaming you; I'm just saying what some say."

Feeling the weight of the situation, Harry let out a sigh and dropped his fork.

"It's not that bad," Leo rushed to assure him.

"They have to support you," Rose said. "They know that because of a prophecy."

This piqued Harry's interest. "A prophecy? Do you know what it says?"

"I promised not to disclose it," Rose said. "But I will say that because of it, the Order does not have a whole lot of choice about believing in you as the person who could defeat You-Know-Who."

"Does it involve someone being marked equal of the Dark Lord and neither being able to die except at the other's hands?" Harry asked, pressing on.

Rose looked shocked, but she said nothing.

"I see that I am correct," Harry said, feeling a little bit smug at having surprised the young clairvoyant.

"How could you possibly even have a clue about what the prophecy said?" Rose demanded. "You were gone when the prophecy was given."

Harry smiled and waved at the bar, signaling that he was ready for the check. "I have been fighting this war for a very long time, Rose. There are things I know that not even Dumbledore could guess at."

"It seems odd to say that you've been fighting this war for so long," Leo said, looking around to make sure the server wasn't already on the way with the check. "You seem so young, and Bellatrix, too. Our parents always comment that Bellatrix looks like she's still seventeen years old."

Harry smiled as the server approached and laid the check on the table before retreating to the bar. "Bellatrix is, in fact, still seventeen years old."

"What!" Rose exclaimed.

"Wicked!" Leo exclaimed as Harry examined the check and deposited a couple of galleons on the table. "You must be time travelers. How old are you?"

"I've lost track," Harry said as he stood up and drew his wand and prepared to apparate. "Like I said, it's been a very long and stressful war for me. Please hold off on telling anybody about the time travel. You can always brag later that you knew first."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Sidra watched as the decorators placed her new desk to its rightful place in the reception area of Bellatrix's Wizengamot office suite. Upon arriving for work at eight in the morning, Sidra had discovered that Bellatrix already had a long list of tasks for her to accomplish. Bellatrix had also hired decorators for a rush job, and Sidra had been tolerating their presence all day as they transformed the office suite into an elegant, yet utterly daunting space.

The last decorator departed after informing Sidra that the bill for services rendered was forthcoming. Sidra made a notation of that and then sat down in her desk, luxuriating in the new chair that came as part of the renovation.

One of the doors to Bellatrix's office opened, and Bellatrix came into the reception area to examine the decorators' handiwork. "Very nice," she commented, eyeing Sidra after surveying the room.

"The bill is on its way," Sidra informed her boss.

"I am quite sure it is," Bellatrix said drily.

"Have any of those people responded to the invitations?" Bellatrix asked, referring to the long list of invitations she had directed Sidra to write and owl first thing. It seemed that Bellatrix wanted to sit down and visit with each member of the Wizengamot—active on the body or not, suspected Death Eater or not.

"Pius Thicknesse responded and will be here before the end of business hours," Sidra said, checking the note she had made.

"Thicknesse? Today?" Bellatrix asked, sounding skeptical. "He is being oddly cooperative."

"I suppose so," Sidra said, unsure as to what made him overly cooperative.

"Very well, send up to Captain Bones in Magical Law Enforcement for a copy of their file on Thicknesse. If she resists, tell her she can send it down now, or she can wait for Harry to come in and instruct her to send it down."

"What if they ask what you want with it?" Sidra said.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Then tell Bones it is none of her bloody business. Send off the note and then come into my office. I need you to run some errands."

Writing the memo took only a couple of minutes. When it was on its way, Sidra stepped into Bellatrix's office and found the other witch hunched over some papers on the desk. "What do you need?" Sidra asked.

Bellatrix looked up and eyed Sidra's clothes. "You will have to stop somewhere and put on some Muggle business clothes." She then gestured to a pair of manila folders. "Then, you will take the top folder to the Muggle government's land registry office and register these deeds. From there, in the second folder, you will find a list of property management firms and notes about what I am willing to pay for their services. If you find a firm that will agree to my price, have them mail me a contract to sign. Hopefully, by now, you have figured out what address should be used when mailing letters to the Ministry via Muggle post."

"Of course," Sidra said stiffly.

"Once you have done all that," Bellatrix said, "you can head over to #2 Privet Drive in Surrey and look in on my nephew. I have a Muggle car there." Bellatrix produced a set of car keys and handed them to Sidra. "Seeing as the little wanker has been off using the car for his entrepreneurial ventures, I want you to take it away from him and drive it up to where the Weasleys live. Arthur Weasley has agreed to do some work on it."

"I don't know how to drive a Muggle car!" Sidra protested.

"You had better learn, then," Bellatrix said.

"And I don't have enough time to drive the car up to where the Weasleys live tonight," Sidra pointed out.

"Then take it to a car park for the night and finish the job on the weekend," Bellatrix suggested. She produced her purse from a desk drawer and withdrew a plastic charge card. "You can use this to pay Muggles for anything you need while doing work for me. Incidentally, Draco probably does need a vehicle for his little business. Take him to a vehicle dealer, purchase an economical vehicle that he can use for his business, and tell him it is a birthday gift for all of his birthdays that I missed . . . and the next one, too."

Sidra sighed.

"I am paying you handsomely," Bellatrix reminded her. "Also, you can buy meals as needed with the charge card. Just keep in mind, if I detect any irregularities in your expenses, I will scalp you."

"Whatever," Sidra grumbled, grabbing the folders and departing Bellatrix's office.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Although Harry sat at the head of the table, Professor Dumbledore called the meeting to order after those present had finished eating their meals. "It appears that we are prepared to move toward the main purpose of this gathering," the headmaster observed after clearing his throat. Ignoring the dirty look Bellatrix was giving him from her place to the left of Harry, Dumbledore continued. "The Blacks have promised us a full explanation, but condition it on none of you revealing what they share tonight."

"I think we should commit to keeping their secrets only after we know what they are," Mrs. Weasley interjected.

"Anything we share is shared as a courtesy and as a gesture of good will," Bellatrix said firmly, leaning forward and staring down the table at Mrs. Weasley. "Harry and I are fully capable of concluding this conflict against the Dark Lord without giving you any explanation whatsoever."

"You need the help the Order," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "You cannot expect us to follow you blindly."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "In case you haven't been paying attention, Minister Prewitt is cooperating with Harry. We command the Aurors. We can win this war without you. And we will."

"You command an Auror squad only," James Potter interjected.

Bellatrix seemed ready with a comeback to that, but Harry cleared his throat a little more loudly than necessary and interrupted the flow of conversation. "Bella and I want to be friends with all of you that are here," he said, glancing at those gathered around the table. The Potters and Blacks were all present, with the exception of the youngest Potter child. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat with the twins, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Professor Dumbledore, Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin were also spread in among the crowd. "There are even some not here with us tonight whom I would like to call friends," Harry continued. "But, I think it would be best to wait a little while to tell them everything."

"We are not entirely sure what you are trying to say," Professor Dumbledore said, looking toward Harry with twinkling blue eyes.

Harry sighed. "Tonight, we want to come clean about certain facts. We hope to convince you that you can trust us. We want to work with you. What Bella said about us being able to win this war without the Order is true, I think, but I would rather do it with your cooperation. So, I'm going to tell you some stuff, but we need you to take oaths to keep it secret."

"And why does it have to be secret?" Sirius inquired, sounding quite skeptical.

Harry had possessed the foresight to consider this question before the meeting. "To be perfectly honest," Harry said, glancing around at the members of the Order, "some of the information I will share tonight will detract from my public image and even Bella's public image. The Death Eaters and much of the public view me as a very imposing sort of wizard. If they learn the truth, I will become a lot less scary and a somewhat less effective participant in this fight. The same goes for Bellatrix."

"Strategic necessity, then," Moody muttered. Harry could not tell from the former Auror's tone of voice whether he approved of Harry's first reason.

"Basically, yes," Harry said, ready to push on. "The second main reason is that part of this explanation includes information that must not reach the Dark Lord. If he were to find out and use it to his advantage, it would be disastrous."

"I think Mr. Black's reasons are sound," Dumbledore said, taking control of the discussion and quashing the debate before it could begin. "Let us make our magical oaths and hear what it is that the Blacks are going to share with us."

It was not as simple as that, but eventually, everybody had made magical oaths to Harry, vowing that they would not reveal anything they learned from Harry or Bellatrix that night. Silence enveloped the room as Harry stood and began pacing at the head of the table. "I think the easiest way into this would be for me to explain where we were for twenty odd years."

"It is as good a place as any to start," Dumbledore encouraged, his attention riveted to Harry.

"Quite, simply," Harry said, "Bellatrix and I were nowhere—we didn't exist. You see, Bellatrix happens to own a special heirloom that occasionally causes people to time travel. On the night we confronted the Dark Lord at Riddle Manor, the heirloom was accidentally activated. We arrived shortly before Sirius's mother offed herself. So, for us, it has been less than a year since I taught Potions at Hogwarts, less than a year since Bellatrix was a student at Hogwarts, and so forth."

Everybody but Rose and Leo were stunned. Harry could see that those two were enjoying the looks on everyone's face almost as much as he would have liked to enjoy them himself if he weren't so nervous about not offending those present but not telling more than he felt obligated to share.

"Wait, so you're younger than me!" Sidra exclaimed, glaring toward Bellatrix.

Bellatrix smiled triumphantly at the eldest Potter child.

"That explains a great many mysteries," Dumbledore said slowly. "Your apparent youthfulness and your disappearing without a trace. But it also raises another question."

"That wasn't the first time you time traveled, was it?" Moody asked gruffly, jumping in.

Harry smiled at Moody. "It was Bellatrix's first time, but my second. My first time travel was also an accident—I think. At least it was unintentional on my part. So, before any of you accuse me of irresponsibly meddling with the timeline, just let me say that I have never willfully traveled through time. I have only ever tried to make the best out of whatever situation fate handed me."

"So, did you come from the past or the future, originally?" Lily asked, sounding very intrigued.

"The future," Harry replied.

"So you knew about Voldemort," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "And, please believe me when I say that I attempted to sabotage his rise to power, but it was too late. The ball was already rolling by the time I had arrived. Bella and I had just commenced with our theory about how to bring him down when we were catapulted to the future. I was planning to tell you everything, Albus, and you, Moody, as soon as Bella and I confirmed the existence of what we were looking for on that night we disappeared."

"Wouldn't you say it was kind of arrogant of you to take the battle against You-Know-Who into your own hands without consulting anybody?" Sirius asked, not sounding terribly impressed with Harry.

"I don't think so," Harry said slowly. He was not used to Sirius being critical of him, so Sirius's comment and demeanor had shaken him somewhat. Fortunately, he had taken the time to think everything through, and he was able to press on after pausing only briefly. "Firstly, I took steps to relay information about You-Know-Who to people in power, even if I did not explain fully how I had come across the information. Secondly, dealing with the Dark Lord has always been my business and responsibility. You see, in my version of the future, there was a prophecy foretelling my birth and the hazards that I would present to the Dark Lord."

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said. "Now, I think we could all debate about how well you handled the situation based on how we would have done in your shoes, but perhaps you could provide us with some objective measures."

"Objective measures?" Harry said quizzically.

"How long did it take to defeat Voldemort in your future?" Dumbledore asked.

"We lost," Harry said. "Everybody in this room was dead or as good as dead when I departed my version of the future."

"So you knew us in your future, didn't you?" Lily jumped in.

Harry cringed. This was not going to be simple. He was not yet prepared to admit that he was a Potter. "I knew some of you," Harry admitted. "But some of you were already dead by the time I was old enough to remember anything. And, some of you did not even exist. Honestly, I think I can say that we are better off now than we were at this same time in my future."

"Did you know me?" Lily asked.

"Not really, no," Harry said, doing his best not to fidget as he told a half-truth. "I never really had a conversation with you until I taught you in Potions."

"This sounds plausible," Moody said suspiciously, "but there is one thing that concerns me."

"What is that?" Harry said, extremely grateful that somebody had interrupted Lily.

Moody sat back in his chair and smiled. "If you came from the future, why is there not another one of you wandering around now?"

Harry shrugged. "As far as I can tell, I never existed in this version of the future. Apparently, I changed the timeline enough to prevent myself from being born."

"That is not a sign that his story is bogus," Dumbledore said. "The universe does not appreciate having duplicate people running about. That is why time turners are so severely limited. In fact, if Harry was claiming that his double was in this future or would soon be born, I would doubt his story."

James and Sirius leered at Dumbledore suspiciously. James spoke for the two of them. "That is some strange logic, Professor. At least so far as you claiming that what Harry is not doing is in fact proving the truth of what he is saying."

"Well said, sir," Fred (or George) Weasley declared.

"We can resolve this quite simply," Dumbledore declared. He looked at Harry. "Would you be willing to show us some snippets of the future in a Pensieve? I would of course allow you to be selective."

Harry glanced at Bellatrix. Seeing no objection in her countenance, he nodded to Dumbledore. "I don't see a problem with that."

Dumbledore stood. "I could bring my Pensieve here, but I wonder if anybody would mind adjourning this meeting and gathering again in my office as soon as possible."

Bellatrix did not look thrilled at this prospect, but Harry could see no problem or inconvenience in gathering at Hogwarts. "Let's do it," Harry said, already trying to think of the various memories he could show.

42. The Ghost of Bellatrix's Past Future

A/N: Thank you for your reviews.

Chapter 41: The Ghost of Bellatrix's Past Future

Lord Silvere

The journey to Hogwarts went quickly, especially for Professor Dumbledore, who could apparate through the Hogwarts wards, and Harry and Bellatrix, who could use Harry's phoenix-fire traveling spell. While the rest of the guests straggled into the headmaster's office, Dumbledore brought the Pensieve out from its cabinet and began explaining the intricacies of its use to Harry. Once he had covered the basics, Dumbledore moved to explaining a more advanced technique that Harry might find helpful for what he wanted to show.

"Instead of dropping each memory individually into the Pensieve, you can simply copy your entire memory and drop it in. Once we're in, you can move from memory to memory as if you were merely thinking about your memories," Dumbledore explained.

"And then you can keep the Pensieve and review each of my past actions very easily," Harry said, frowning suspiciously and eying Dumbledore. While he did want to come clean about some things, Harry did not want other people knowing too much about his past experiences or about secrets that could be crucial to the war.

"As much as I would love to examine your memories in their entirety," Dumbledore said, "I will respect your privacy. You will be able to destroy the memory copy before we leave. Or, you could keep it in a container for later—in case you ever want to show us more without having to re-copy the memories. The sensation, while harmless, is not precisely thrilling, either."

Harry shrugged. "Your suggestion seems reasonable, then." Following directions from Dumbledore, he copied his entire memory and dropped it into the Pensieve. It took several minutes, and when he was finished, everybody was standing around the Pensieve, staring at him and the Pensieve silently, anticipation etched into their faces.

"All right, let's do this," Harry said, feeling a bit awkward and escaping from the environment by sticking his head in the Pensieve. Instantly, he found himself alone in a blank, watery atmosphere until Bellatrix joined him, and then Dumbledore, Moody, the Weasleys, the Potters, and everybody else.

"Okay," Harry said, lifting up his wand and drawing everybody's attention to him with it. "I guess I'll show you the moment I departed from my original future and arrived in the past that we all have in common."

Instantaneously, the crowd found themselves in a dungeon, watching Harry interact with a very miserable, foul, and aged Bellatrix. Knowing that his wife would not be pleased to see or have other people see her alternate self, Harry glanced apologetically at Bellatrix who was staring horrified at her alternate, future self. Bellatrix met Harry's gaze and shrugged resignedly.

"Uh, I should explain that the Bellatrix I originally knew had not time travelled, was significantly older than me, and had become a Death Eater," Harry said, beginning to wish deeply that his wife could be spared this view of the future. "Although, as you might surmise from this scene, she had fallen into the Dark Lord's disfavor."

"Why isn't there sound?" one of the Weasley twins demanded as they watched the Pensieve versions of Bellatrix and Harry trade verbal barbs.

"The sound is controlled by Harry," Dumbledore said, turning to Harry and peering over his spectacles at him.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't want to share some of the things being said in this conversation."

Those present seemed a little bit annoyed with Harry, but their curiosity drew their attention to what was going on.

"As you can see from our body language," Harry declared, "we are mostly just being rude to each other. Let me move us forward to the actual moment that I get sent to the past." The scene flashed and the group watched with morbid fascination as the former Bellatrix removed the hair ornament from the bodice of her dress. A few people gasped as Bellatrix grabbed Harry's hand and used it to force the ornament into her chest. Very soon, the group was watching as Harry interacted with teenage Bellatrix in the Black vault at Gringotts.

"You'll want to pay close attention to this," Harry said. "This is what proves that I did not do anything underhanded to inherit the Black estate. I'll even make it so that you can hear what we said to each other."

Silently, the group watched as Harry and young Bellatrix interacted for the first time and discovered that Harry had the ability to withdraw gold from the Black vault. Harry and Bellatrix then struck a bargain, which ended with both Harry and Bellatrix exiting the vault with a lot of gold for each of them.

"It looks like it is as you said to Bellatrix in that vault—you inherited the Black title while in the future," Dumbledore said as the memory paused. "Such titles pass in a way that leaves a magical mark on a person. So, it seems that you and Orion simultaneously held the Black title without Orion ever becoming aware of that fact. The magic controlling the Black fortune and title probably did not even formally recognize that any Lord Black had died when Orion passed."

"That is the way it worked," Bellatrix confirmed.

Sirius frowned. "Then how is it that my father's will was still executed as if nothing was out of the ordinary?"

"I sent Harry to the bank during your father's funeral," Bellatrix said. "He made up a new will and had it 'executed' so as to retain his anonymity."

"Smooth," one of the twins commented.

"Quite," Harry said, still feeling a little guilty for that underhanded ploy, though it had in fact largely been engineered, or at least inspired, by Bellatrix. And of course, no real harm had been done. "The memories I have shown you establish that I traveled through time and that I legitimately came by the Black fortune. Was there anything else you wanted to know or see? If not, I think I have shown enough."

"What about more of the alternate future?" Lily asked.

Harry shook his head. "I think I have shown you enough to prove that I came from an alternate future." He glanced at Professor Dumbledore for support. Wouldn't you agree professor?"

"I agree that you have shown us enough to establish your claim of time travel," Dumbledore conceded. "But, I was hoping you might give us more extensive glimpses of the future."

"Maybe another time," Harry shrugged. "After all, I will have my memories on hand should the occasion arise."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well."

"But then how are we supposed to know for absolute sure that Ashworth is on our side?" Moody demanded.

"If we were not on your side, we would not be here with you," Bellatrix said.

Harry smiled. "I'll gladly show you all anything you want that has happened since my initial time travel."

Dumbledore nodded. "That would be greatly appreciated. Let's start with the night Cygnus Black died."

Harry winced, thinking of what it would do to Bellatrix to see her father killed firsthand. He glanced at her and saw steely resolve in her countenance. Seeing that she seemed prepared, Harry waved his wand. Instantaneously, those in the Pensieve found themselves in Malfoy Manor as Harry, Cygnus, and Romulus enjoyed their final moments together.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Yawning, Harry trudged through his flat, carrying the big vial that contained the liquid copy of his memories. The tradeoff in escaping the meeting without showing the Order extensive portions of the future had been his promise to consider showing them more in the future. Thus, it had been necessary to preserve the memories. There also was the fact that Harry was not overly fond of the sensation he had experienced when copying so many memories in the first place.

The rest of the journey into the Pensieve had proceeded without too much incident. The Order members had demanded to scrutinize many of Harry's actions since arriving in the past. Though they were a little irritated that he had not immediately spilled everything he knew about the future to more people while still in the past, they ultimately had found little in his actions for which they could fault him.

After all, Harry had provided appropriate warnings to Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy. Harry had even kept Dumbledore in the loop with the information he actually needed to know. And, it was clear from the memories that Harry had intended to tell Dumbledore and Moody a lot more and would have done so if it were not for the second instance of time travel.

Surprisingly, Dumbledore had even deflected some of the criticisms directed toward Harry, theorizing about fate and the time balance while suggesting that greater powers may have subtly prevented Harry from having a good opportunity to change the timeline drastically.

Finding an empty cupboard in the kitchen, Harry stashed the vial of memories and locked the cupboard door so that Kreacher would not accidentally access it and so that the casual visitor to the flat would not have occasion to discover it.

Already turning his thoughts to what he would do the next day, Harry made his way down the hall to his bedroom and found that Bellatrix had changed into her night attire, slipped into bed, and fallen asleep. Being careful not to disturb her, Harry climbed into bed and killed the lights.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Bellatrix feigned sleep as Harry entered the room, slipped into bed, and shut off the lights in the bedroom. After what seemed like an hour, Bellatrix finally felt comfortable with the assumption that Harry was sound asleep. Moving slowly and quietly, she slithered out from beneath the covers of the bed and made her way to the kitchen. There, she discovered the locked cupboard. Opening it proved easy for her.

Leaving the cupboard open, Bellatrix fetched a glass and filled it with water. She placed it in the cupboard and transfigured it into a duplicate vial filled with what appeared to be Harry's memories. Satisfied that her substitute would pass a casual, visual muster, Bellatrix removed the vial with Harry's memories, locked the cupboard, and left the kitchen.

Bellatrix then proceeded upstairs to her laboratory and hid the vial. Sitting down in her chair next to one of the windows, she began composing a letter on the subject of Pensieve bowls to a well-known acquisitions agent.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Draco eyed Severus Snape suspiciously as the two of them and Narcissa Malfoy attempted to blend in with the Muggles as they sat in a Muggle restaurant near Privet Drive. Draco wondered whether his aunt Bellatrix would approve of Snape coming to one of his visits with his mother.

Mostly, though, he worried that his mother might be trying to find a way to get him out of Bellatrix's custody. As much as he would have liked the freedom to leave Surrey and even England, Draco doubted that anybody could safely transport him beyond whatever spell Bellatrix was using to hold him prisoner. He had already made a few tentative attempts and had resolved never to try again. Shoving the thought aside, Draco attempted to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Severus and I have developed an . . . understanding," Narcissa informed Draco nervously. "Now that your father is dead, it is time for me to move on with my life."

Miraculously, Draco was able to prevent his face from blanching. "Do you mean that you're planning to get married?"

"Not until the war is over," Narcissa hedged. "It would not be ideal if the Dark Lord discovered that we have deep feelings for each other. But, Severus and I wanted you know."

Draco arched an eyebrow. He was not particularly interested in learning anything more about his mother's social life, but he was interested in the implications of her actions. "So . . . you believe that the Dark Lord is going to lose the war."

Narcissa nodded, but did not meet her son's eyes. "Your newly discovered uncle has proved his prowess on the battlefield. Even the Dark Lord's actions suggest that some part of him fears what Harry Black might do to him."

Snape gave Narcissa a warning glance.

Narcissa noted Snape's glance. "And of course, your aunt has been making strides of late in her political career."

An awkward silence followed. Draco did not want to comment on his mother's new relationship, and Narcissa did not really have anything to say.

Snape finally spoke up. "How often do you see your aunt, Draco?"

"Why?"

"I am curious," Snape said.

"Not often," Draco said. "She seems to have delegated my care to her new secretary. Why are you interested?"

"I would like to get a better feel for what your aunt has in mind," Snape said. "Bellatrix has been using you as leverage to get your mother to help her access many of the families known to sympathize or perhaps directly support the Death Eaters—especially those with Wizengamot seats."

"Sounds tiresome," Draco commented. Politics had never particularly interested him—particularly when he had no direct involvement.

"It is very concerning," Snape said. "If I am reading your aunt's actions correctly, she is beginning to broker a political deal that will result in her very soon becoming Minister of Magic."

"And how would that be bad thing?" Draco questioned. "Maybe she could pardon you two."

"That's precisely the problem," Snape said. "How else do you think she will get votes from your mother's connections? She will not find very many votes among Prewitt's crowd."

"Whatever," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"We need you to keep you ears open," Snape said. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would pass on anything you learn about your aunt's plans or intentions to me."

"I'll think about it, but don't get your hopes up. It isn't as if Bellatrix is likely to host cocktail parties on Privet Drive," Draco said as he glanced at his watch. "It's time for me to get to work, so you will have to excuse me."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

It was late in the afternoon when Draco and the young teens he employed completed their last yard for the day. After dropping the last of his employees off at home, Draco drove his new Ford Ranger toward #2 Privet Drive. Upon pulling into the driveway, he was surprised to find Sidra Potter standing on the doorstep.

He turned off the engine, checked his hair in the rearview mirror, and casually hopped out of the truck. Seeing that Sidra was coming down from the porch, Draco leaned against the truck. "Come to supervise me?" he asked, a hint of smile appearing on his lips.

Sidra seemed nonplussed by Draco's question. "Your aunt wants me to inspect the house she asked you to work on a while back."

"Well . . . hop in," Draco said, gesturing to the truck.

Sidra obliged, Draco did likewise, and the pair were on their way. En route, Draco explained that up until Sidra had purchased the truck for Draco with Bellatrix's charge card, he had not really had a good way to get to the house and thus had done relatively little work on it. When they arrived, Draco showed Sidra around.

"So, basically you have done nothing," Sidra concluded after inspecting the premises.

"I don't even know how to do most of the stuff she put on the list," Draco complained irritably, kicking a stack of building supplies that Bellatrix had apparently had delivered.

Sidra rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should have tried to learn."

"As if I can just learn how to do Muggle stuff," Draco shot back.

Sidra threw up her hands in exasperation and made her way back to the truck out front.

Draco followed. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Maybe you should hire Muggles who know how to do renovations," Sidra said.

"But then I would have to pay them," Draco complained.

"Well, duh," Sidra said. "I thought you had that figured out with your stupid lawn mowing business. You get the job, you hire the work out, and then you charge enough to cover their costs and give you a little bit money for what you actually did.

Considering the situation, Draco remained silent for a minute as he and Sidra climbed into his truck.
Eventually, he had worked out a solution. "Maybe you could talk to my aunt and tell her that if she advances me some money, I could hire out a lot of the work and then turn a profit. And then, you could come back with that charge card . . . and supervise me."

Sidra arched an eyebrow at him. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Malfoy."

"What?" Draco protested innocently. "My aunt can afford it. Surely she wants the money to be rolling in sooner than later."

"You know what I was talking about," Sidra shot back.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

With Sidra having long-gone for the day and her last visitor of the day having departed, Bellatrix closed the doors to her personal office to prevent any disturbance—not that she expected one. Sidra was not likely to find a reason to come into work before morning. And fortunately, Harry was already in the DMLE offices helping Amelia Bones plan out a number of raids to be conducted through the night, so he would have little occasion to wonder why his wife was spending the entire night at the office.

Confident that she was alone, she opened one of her desk drawers and retrieved her recently bought Pensieve. Wasting no time, Bellatrix produced the vial that contained a copy of all of Harry's memories and poured it into the Pensieve. She paused a moment to watch the swirls and ripples move across the surface, took a deep breath, and plunged in.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Astoria Greengrass knew that her parents were unlikely to approve of the glittery, green nail polish she was applying to her toenails, but she was sure they would not notice so long as she avoided going barefoot around them. Capping the nail polish bottle, Astoria returned it to her bedside table and began blowing on her toenails to help the polish dry faster. Satisfied that the polish was well on its way toward being dry, Astoria reclined on the bed and was considering the possibility of picking up a book to read when a dull thump reverberated through the manor.

Astoria's mother shrieked loudly. "The wards are gone!"

"Apparate out!" Astoria's father yelled.

Knowing that she was not yet capable of apparating, Astoria allowed her curiosity to lead her to one of the bedroom windows where she could look down onto the manor's rear terrace. It was dark, but it did not take Astoria long to spot a pair of witches in Auror uniforms waiting near the backdoor, ostensibly to prevent anybody from escaping.

"Oh, Merlin!" Astoria's mother wailed. "They've erected anti-Apparition wards!"

Having already concluded that escape was both futile, and at least in her case, unneeded, Astoria backed away from the window and made her way toward her bedroom door just as Daphne opened it and rushed in.

"We have to hide!" Daphne said, a twitch in her eye betraying the terror she was feeling.

"It's the Aurors," Astoria breathed as Daphne's demeanor finally broke the dam of logic that had held her emotions in check. "You haven't done anything illegal have you?"

"Well, no," Daphne said as she looked around wildly. "But we have a lot of Death Eater friends."

"There's nowhere good in here to hide," Astoria said.

"Come on!" Daphne grabbed Astoria's hand and led her toward the main staircase.

Heading toward the main staircase seemed illogical to Astoria, but by the time she had formulated an alternative route to a good hiding place, the sisters were at the staircase. And, before Astoria could make any of her suggestions, the front entrance doors to the manor swung open to admit half a dozen Aurors.

"Don't move!" one of the Aurors shouted as the Greengrass sisters found several wands pointed at them.

"Search the house for the parents and any possible guests," another commanding voice shouted while one of the Aurors advanced toward Daphne and Astoria.

In a few short moments, Daphne and Astoria had been escorted down the stairs, where, to the great embarrassment of the sisters, the Aurors determined that they had no wands on them. After several tense moments passed, the Aurors responsible for searching the house yelled that they had Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass in custody and that nobody else and no traps had been found.

This message was relayed out the door to the Aurors standing guard to prevent escapes. As the Aurors rearranged their deployment throughout the property to reflect the change of circumstances, the Aurors who had been searching the house escorted the Greengrass parents to the front entrance hall where they were held under guard with their daughters.

"Who is in command, here?" Mr. Greengrass demanded angrily, doing his level best to maintain every ounce of dignity he could muster.

"Define 'command,'" responded Amelia Bones as she walked into Greengrass Manor.

"Whose idea was it to raid us?" Mr. Greengrass retorted, obliquely responding to Amelia's request.

"The credit for that belongs to me, I suppose," came another voice, belonging to another person that had just entered the manor.

Astoria's eyes widened as she recognized Harry Black. She had seen his picture in the newspaper and in Witch Weekly. The teen magazine had made him out to the a stylish, sexy pop culture icon, but he was now wearing imposing, black and purple battle robes and holding his wand ready for action. Even more chilling to Astoria was the wand he was not holding but that everybody knew he possessed.

"Lord Black, the Minister will hear of this!" Mr. Greengrass hissed, preparing to draw on every whit of political capital he possessed.

"So will the Daily Prophet's readers," Harry said, his lips quirking with amusement as his blazing green eyes swept across the room, cataloging everything present before settling on the members of the Greengrass family.

Mr. Greengrass did not seem to appreciate the humor. "Nobody here is a Death Eater," he insisted. "It is true that we hold to our pureblood beliefs and traditions, but we have not broken the law. This is an attempt to harass us and score you points with the public. It will not be tolerated in the Wizengamot or even by Minister Prewitt. You have no call to bother law-abiding subjects."

Harry shrugged. "Were you all innocent, I am confident I would face severe repercussions. As it is, one of you is not innocent. I regret to be the bearer of this news, Mr. Greengrass, though I do hope for your sake that you have been ignorant of what I am about to tell you."

"Nobody here is a Death Eater," Mr. Greengrass insisted.

Harry raised his wand arm and shot a spell at Astoria's mother. "We have information that your wife has been participating in some extracurricular activities." The spell that had emitted from Harry's wand floated toward and enveloped Mrs. Greengrass, numbing her senses and abilities completely. A wave of Harry's wand summoned her to drift slowly in the air toward him where Amelia promptly grabbed her arm, pushed the sleeve, and revealed the Dark Mark.

Astoria's heart sank as Daphne audibly gasped. It was one thing to vaguely believe that the Death Eaters might ultimately be right in their views, if not in their more extreme actions, but it was quite another to learn that someone in your family was involved personally.

Mr. Greengrass made a strangled sound in his throat.

"We're arresting your wife on suspicion of committing the sort of crimes Death Eaters are wont to commit," Amelia announced. "We will not level formal charges until we have ascertained what crimes she has personally committed. Incidentally, Mr. Greengrass, we will also be detaining you until we've cleared you of committing any Death Eater crimes."

"Surely you don't have any information that I've been involved with the Death Eaters," Mr. Greengrass said hollowly.

"We don't," Amelia admitted, "but your intimate connection with a known Death Eater makes you subject to our inquiries."

"That doesn't seem fair," Astoria said, finding her voice.

"Welcome to the war, missy. The Death Eaters' victims didn't find anything fair, either," Amelia said, gesturing to some of the Aurors to restrain Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass and prepare them to be portkeyed to the Ministry holding cells.

"What about Astoria and I?" Daphne asked.

"That's up to Mr. Black," Amelia said. "He and the Aurors are going to search your house for Dark artifacts. If no further problems are discovered, you are old enough to live alone with your sister." She then turned her attention away from the Greengrass daughters and issued a number of instructions to the Aurors before using the Portkey to depart with her prisoners, leaving Harry and most of the Aurors standing in the entrance hall with Daphne and Astoria.

Astoria and Daphne stared at Harry, who was looking at them with a calculating gaze on his face.

"Where do you want to begin your search, Mr. Black?" Daphne said, trying to put on a brave face.

Harry smiled. "Let's start with the lowest level of the manor and work our way up. And, I am afraid that it will be necessary for you to remain with us while we search."

"It would be good if you asked them to send away the house elves," an Auror suggested to Harry.

Harry nodded approvingly. "Yes, be so good as to summon your house elves and instruct them to stay away from the house for a few hours."

Daphne did as requested with regard to the house elves, and the two sisters then proceeded with Harry and the Aurors to search the entire house. The Aurors proved to be quick, efficient, and even polite enough to return everything inspected to its proper place. Ultimately, for the Greengrass sisters, it proved to be a painless experience with the exception of having to present every last item of their clothing to the Aurors for diagnostic spells.

While Daphne looked to ensure that the Aurors returned everything to its proper place, Astoria thoughtfully observed Harry Black. Through reading the newspaper and assorted magazines she had familiarized herself with his story. She had found the story intriguing as it slowly unfolded through the Ghost of Ashworth incidents and developed into the situation where he now seemed to wield considerable political and magical power.

Tonight, Astoria's interest was not strictly academic, though. Harry's germane manner throughout the arrest of her parents and the search of the house had suggested to Astoria the possibility that she might be able to talk to him about her parents' situation—or rather plead for mercy. She just needed the right moment—it would not be ideal to beg in front of the Aurors.

Eventually, the last diagnostic spell had been cast on the items and architecture in the attic of the manor. The attic had been messier than the rest of the house, so Daphne took the opportunity to have the Aurors rearrange things a little instead of putting them back the way they were. At first, the Aurors were resistant to the extra work, but Harry had pointed out that it would not be an unreasonable inconvenience.

"I think that concludes my business here," Harry said, nodding politely to Daphne and Astoria. He glanced at the Aurors. "Make your way back to the Ministry together when you finish here."

"Got another target?" one of the Aurors asked, sounding hopeful.

"I think so," Harry said as he turned and left the attic. "At least, if Captain Bones and I can take care of the paperwork for Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass quick enough."

Seeing her chance, to talk to Harry in private, Astoria swiftly followed Harry down the stairs and caught up with him as he was making his way down the main staircase in the entrance hall.

"Mr. Black!" Astoria called.

"Yes?" Harry said, turning and looking at her.

Astoria suddenly felt embarrassed and could not quite meet Harry's eyes. "How . . . much trouble is my mother in?"

"I do not know for sure," Harry said. "It depends on what she did."

"You don't even know what she did, but you're arresting her?" Astoria said, beginning to feel a little bit angry.

Harry sighed, but still sounded patient when he spoke. "We know with absolute certainty that she is a marked Death Eater. Once we discover what she did, we will figure out how much trouble she is in."

"How long will that take?" Astoria asked.

"It's out of my hands, now," Harry said, even beginning to sound sympathetic. "I am sure it won't take more than a few days."

Astoria could not see a way out of that box, but she clung to the next best thing. "And my father? You don't know that he's a Death Eater, so he will be released quickly, right?"

Harry looked at Astoria silently.

"Right?" Astoria repeated, as a sense of dread washed over her.

"Prior to our visit tonight, there was no sign that your father was a Death Eater . . . ," Harry hedged.

"But?"

"But, he referred to me as 'Lord Black' when we spoke to each other. It is something I have found to be indicative as we have been conducting these raids," Harry said.

Astoria was at a loss for words. She was now facing the possibility of having both her parents in Azkaban. It also did not help that Harry did not make a whole lot of sense.

"But you are Lord Black," Astoria retorted. "Does that make me a Death Eater, now that I've said it?"

Harry smiled. "Your father would have been brought back to the Ministry for questioning, regardless of how he had addressed me, Ms. Greengrass. I am only making a prediction of what Captain Bones will discover as a result of interrogating him."

"I think Captain Bones will find that he's innocent of any wrongdoing," Astoria declared.

"Then, I will hope that you are right," Harry said, trying to give her a friendly smile. He turned to leave, but Astoria was not yet done with him.

"Why don't you attack the Dark Lord?" Astoria demanded. "He's the real enemy. None of the Death Eaters would dare move against the Ministry without him."

Harry stopped, turned, and then looked at Astoria. "That's something I have thought about extensively, Ms. Greengrass. I fear though, that the Dark Lord is more a symptom than the true problem. I need to cure the illness in addition to extinguishing the symptoms."

"So, to cure the problem you intend to go around punishing people?" Astoria demanded.

Harry shrugged. "To be frank, I've never thought overly much about the punishment aspect. What I have done tonight is prevent your mother, and possibly your father, from doing further harm to the rest of our society. At minimum, they will have to make restitution to those they wronged. After that, I hope they can be . . . rehabilitated."

"So, you'll be fair?" Astoria said, demanding a very vague sort of concession more than asking a question.

Harry spread his hands reassuringly. "I will do everything in my power to be fair to Death Eater and non-Death Eater alike, Ms. Greengrass. If you feel that the Ministry is treating your parents unfairly, you have my permission to approach me about the matter. If it is in my power to do anything, I will do it. If it is not, we can go have a chat with my wife."

"Good," Astoria said.

"The Aurors will restore your wards, though I think you will have little to fear from the Death Eaters," Harry said by way of farewell as he exited the Manor and left Astoria alone in the entranceway of her family's manor.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Navigating Harry's unfamiliar memories in the Pensieve proved difficult for Bellatrix. It was easy to call up memories of which she had been a part because she knew they existed. But, those were not the memories Bellatrix wanted to see. After some fumbling around, Bellatrix eventually concluded that she could find her way to memories by thinking of specific places or people—at least most of the time. The figurative index of Harry's memory did not always take note of the place or every person appearing in each memory.

The topic of Hogwarts and the Dursleys proved to be strong talismans, though the memories associated with the latter topic seemed rather jumbled and intermixed. Bellatrix supposed that Harry tried to avoid thinking about his childhood. She did not blame him, and avoided those memories. Harry's memories of Hogwarts, on the other hand, proved to be quite distinctive, and Bellatrix dedicated several hours to observing some of Harry's exploits at Hogwarts and reveling in his greater achievements.

Naturally, she watched Harry rescue Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets, having previously speculated to herself how Harry had approached the Chamber the first time around. Harry's Quidditch games also proved somewhat diverting, though Bellatrix herself had never found herself excessively fond of the game. For Bellatrix, it was the Triwizard Tournament that intrigued her the most—or rather, the events surrounding it. She found herself watching and laughing hysterically as Harry muddled his way through the disaster that was his experience at the Yule Ball.

Oh, Rodolphus, you never held so much as a candle to him, Bellatrix smirked to herself as she watched for the second time in a row Harry complete the Triwizard Tournament and escape from Voldemort. The conclusion of that memory marked the end of Bellatrix's interest in Harry's school achievements.

Feeling no small amount of trepidation, Bellatrix then decided that she should call up Harry's memories of her future self. It would be good to know more about us, Bellatrix told herself. The image of her future counterpart sitting in that dungeon before Harry had traveled to the past still haunted her. She did not want to see more of herself, but she needed to understand.

She closed her eyes and focused intently on herself. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a memory that she had lived in herself. Closing her eyes again, she redirected her focus to imagine herself, but instead focused more on the image of the Bellatrix Harry had showed the order prior to him time travel to the past.

She opened her eyes and found herself at the edge of the forest outside of Hogsmeade. Spellfire and flames from thatched roofs eerily lit the night sky. Harry and a number of Order members were standing there, fighting the battle from afar.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Mask your spells, you fools!" Alastor Moody shouted to Harry and the young Order recruits. "If you don't, all those Death Eaters will be up here before we realize it and we won't be able to do anything more."

"It would at least draw them away from the village," Harry grumbled as he rapidly conducted a magical core focusing exercise the aged ex-Auror had taught him in a private lesson. After successfully focusing his core for a number of practice spells, Harry had instantly realized that it was the most effective way to duel and use magic in general, but it slowed Harry down. Moody had assured him that he would eventually do it subconsciously, and that for now, Harry would just have to focus on doing it when he could and skip it if he was in an actual duel.

"Perhaps one day you'll be the one giving commands," Moody told Harry gruffly, "but for tonight, you'll just have to follow my strategy."

Harry made no response, but finished focusing his core and letting lose with a spell that would neutralize the flames on the roofs of Hogsmeade without making it immediately apparent to the Death Eaters that somebody had interfered to prevent damage.

"See what he did?" Moody snapped at the other fighters positioned at the edge of the forest. "Keep doing that. Now, Potter and I have got to move on."

Harry grabbed his broom and mounted just in time to zoom after Moody.

"All right, Potter," Moody growled, "see what you can do to target the bigger groups with those big spells I taught you. Then, get the bloody hell away before you strike again."

"I'm not stupid," Harry said as he zoomed down toward the town, carefully avoiding any light that would make him visible.

The Order members in the town and villagers had apparently been apprised of Moody's strategy, for they had fought in such a way as to force the Death Eaters to retreat into circular formations, thus making it easy for Harry to incapacitate or injure them en masse with his large, powerful spells. Feeling a particularly vicious stab of anger, Harry swooped from the sky and shouted an exploding spell at one of the circular Death Eater formations. The ground exploded, throwing Death Eaters in every direction, knocking many unconscious and even killing one or two.

Harry continued this pattern until the battle had descended into complete chaos as the Death Eater lines broke and the defenders took the opportunity to harry the Death Eaters. Normal wizards and witches would have retreated in the face of such a disaster, but the Death Eaters feared punishment from Voldemort. On the other side, the villagers and Order members were eager to do what they could to reduce the number of living Death Eaters.

Unfortunately for Harry, his pondering over the matter caused him to miss a spell that threw him from his broom. Landing with a dull thud on a Hogsmeade street, Harry groaned as he thought of what Moody would say when he found that Harry had allowed himself to get caught in the middle of a battlefield. The sound of giggling spurred Harry to scramble to his feet faster than he otherwise might have.

"Did little Potter fall off his broom?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked.

"Lestrange!" Harry snarled, unleashing several rapid-fire spells.

Bellatrix blocked them deftly. "Still angry at me, I see."

"Avada kedavra!" Harry screamed. Green light exploded from his wand.

Bellatrix dodged the Killing Curse, allowing it to crash into and obliterate a lamppost.

"Yes, keep on doing that, you'll save us the trouble of killing everybody in the vicinity," Bellatrix mocked.

Harry cursed and sent flurry after flurry of spells toward her, trying to think of spells he could use that would not damage the entire area and endanger the innocents around him. Despite Harry's best efforts, Bellatrix was able to block or dodge nearly every spell, though she was unable to get any of her own off. All in all, the duel was a draw.

Eventually, the rest of the battle seemed to have turned in favor of the Hogsmeade defenders, for several Order members joined in Harry's duel. Seeing that she was outnumbered, Bellatrix activated a portkey and fled from the village.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Methodically, Bellatrix proceeded to watch nearly every duel she and Harry had engaged in against each other during what she and Harry now referred to as the Lost War. The carnage occurring around each of these duels, or at least around the duels fought during big battles like the first she had seen, sickened her. But, she was able to observe the duels between her counterpart and Harry with a somewhat detached attitude. After all, it was no strange thing for her and Harry to duel—they had practiced with each other frequently since coming to the alternate future.

There was one thing that stood out to Bellatrix and concerned her, though. Harry always approached her alternate self with an extreme amount of anger and venom in his demeanor. As she reflected back to the first time she had pushed Harry into practice dueling with her in the past, Bellatrix remembered that the same venom had still been there for that duel—he had, in fact, done his level best to kill her. Admittedly, it had been more of a reflex on Harry's part than an actual desire to kill one of his students, but the reflex was evidence of just how deeply Harry's hatred of Bellatrix's future self stretched.

Curiosity got the best of Bellatrix. She wanted to know why Harry had harbored such ill will toward her. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling she had seen on Harry's face—the anger, hatred, bitterness, and venom. Instead of a face or a place, she focused as best she could on the feeling.

The sound of spellfire and shouting indicated that she had successfully summoned a memory. Bellatrix opened her eyes just in time to watch herself murder Sirius Black via a spell that sent him plunging through a dangerous-looking archway. She spun as Harry's memory of himself shouted angrily. And then, with a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach, Bellatrix watched Harry chase the alternate Bellatrix to the atrium where he attempted to use the Cruciatus curse against her.

"Oh, Merlin," Bellatrix breathed as she shut her eyes and forced herself out of the Pensieve, gasping as her head came up. She backed away and leaned against the wall of her private office as her mind raced to find a way to differentiate herself from her future self. The shock proved too much for her to cope with, though. She was soon kneeling on the floor behind her desk and retching into her waste bin.

Once the physical sickness passed, Bellatrix, still on her knees, fumbled to open one of her desk drawers. Blindly, she groped around in the drawer until her hand closed on the cool, glass surface of a bottle of premium firewhiskey. Bottle in hand, she sat down on the floor and slumped against the wall. Not bothering with a glass, she uncorked the bottle and took a long draw. Gulping the firewhiskey down and somehow keeping herself from choking on the liquid fire, Bellatrix clutched the bottle and stared at her desk blankly before bringing the bottle back up to her lips.

43. Negotiating the Price of Betrayal

A/N: As always, thank you for your continued reviews on DE.

Chapter 42: Negotiating the Price of Betrayal

Lord Silvere

"Hello?" Sidra called out, easing open the door to Bellatrix's office. Seeing that Bellatrix was not sitting at her desk, Sidra went to leave the room, but as she turned, she noticed a foot sticking out from behind the desk. Frowning, Sidra stepped further into the room and around the desk. There, she discovered her boss lying on the floor—passed out.

"Well, I must say that I didn't take you for a drunk," Sidra said wryly, noting an empty firewhiskey bottle on the floor before bending down and lightly touching Bellatrix's face.

Bellatrix groaned and cracked open her bloodshot eyes just enough to squint up at Sidra. "Go away," she whispered. "You can have the day off."

"That's not what a dutiful personal secretary would do, ma'am," Sidra said primly, quite enjoying the situation and Bellatrix's misery. "Let's get you up and in your chair."

"No," Bellatrix whispered, "I'm fine down here." She closed her eyes.

Not really anxious to physically or magically force Bellatrix into a chair, Sidra stood up and looked around. On the desk, she spotted a Pensieve filled with memories. "Is that your husband's batch of memories?" Sidra asked.

With lightning speed, Bellatrix leapt up from her position on the floor and swiped at the Pensieve with one of her hands. The magical bowl went flying off the table and then clunked onto the floor, the liquid contents spilling out onto the carpet and evaporating into a multi-colored cloud of steam that quickly faded away.

A smirk formed on Sidra's face as she jumped back. Only needed the right motivation, she thought to herself. However, Sidra's theorized cure was proved impoten when Bellatrix let out a very loud moan as she slumped back to the floor, covering her eyes with her hands. After a moment, she began sobbing.

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and unsure about what to do, Sidra retreated from the room and made a Floo call from the reception area's fireplace to her mother.

"Mum!" Sidra called, sticking her head into the fire and getting a view of the Potter kitchen. "Mum!"

"Sidra?" Lily Potter called from another room. "Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah," Sidra said loudly, just as Lily strode into the kitchen.

"What's is going on? Aren't you at work?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," Sidra said. "Something is amiss. I came in and found Bellatrix on the floor of her office coming off a bender. I woke her up, and now she's crying. I was thinking that maybe you could get a bottle of Dad's hangover brew and bring it over."

"I'll be right there," Lily said, rushing from the room.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lily made it to the Ministry in record time, though she ended up stopping at the Auror office to drop off a lunch treat for James. After leaving James's department, Lily made her way down the Wizengamot labyrinth, contemplating her relationship with Bellatrix Black. At Hogwarts, Lily had always envied Bellatrix's connection to the ever-fascinating Harry Ashworth. That had made them rivals—at least in Lily's eyes. Bellatrix probably had not viewed Lily as enough of a competitor to return the feelings of rivalry.

Now, it did not really matter, especially after Lily had learned that Harry and Bellatrix had aged no more than a year since they had been around Hogwarts. Yet, for some strange reason, Lily's fascination with Harry Ashworth, now Black, continued. He, and Lily supposed Bellatrix as well, were central to the fight against Voldemort. Although Lily was not personally interested in being Bellatrix's friend, she was interested in making as many connections to Harry as possible. And, of course, there was the need of the Order to keep abreast of anything concerning Harry and Bellatrix, for Harry seemed to possess the power and influence to tip the balance of the war, and Bellatrix was making political waves.

Lily eventually found Bellatrix's office suite. She stepped inside, through the reception area, and into Bellatrix's office, where she found Sidra sitting in Bellatrix's chair as she watched Bellatrix, who was lying on the floor.

"Merlin's beard, Sidra," Lily exclaimed. "Show the poor woman some common decency. Get her onto a couch or something."

"She's happy on the floor," Sidra protested.

"I suppose that is why she is moaning and holding her hands to her head," Lily said sarcastically as she surveyed the surroundings. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the upended Pensieve on the floor.

"Harry's memories from the other night," Sidra said. "I asked if they were his, and she went nuts and threw them on the floor."

"Oh, shut up," Bellatrix whispered.

"We're going to put you on a couch," Lily said, trying to sound soothing as her eyes fell on a comfortable-looking couch positioned next to a coffee table and some armchairs. The couch, armchairs, and coffee table were probably there so that Bellatrix could sit with visitors when she was trying to convey an informal impression. Lily drew her wand and cast a levitation charm on Bellatrix.

Lily and Sidra followed Bellatrix's floating form to the couch, where Lily set Bellatrix down. Sidra then sat down in one of the chairs as Lily pulled a hangover potion from her pocket and administered it to Bellatrix. The hangover potion managed to take full effect after about half an hour. Bellatrix proved its success by sitting up smoothly without any wincing or groaning. However, it was clear to Lily and Sidra from Bellatrix's posture that Bellatrix was exhausted.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Lily asked.

"Talk about what?" Bellatrix replied, her voice hoarse from the fire of the firewhiskey.

Lily smiled knowingly. "About whatever it was that sent you on a bender."

"Well," Bellatrix said, trying to act cheerful and sound bright, but failing because of her hoarse voice, "my bookie owled me that my Quodpot team won, so I thought I'd use the winnings to treat myself."

Lily ignored the cheap humor and opted to be perceptive. Sparing a quick glance at the upended Pensieve on the floor, she looked at Bellatrix sympathetically. "That older version of you we all saw in the Pensieve was pretty ghastly, wasn't she?"

"Nothing that a few medical procedures could have prevented," Bellatrix said.

"I think we all know that I'm not talking about old age," Lily said.

"It would be quite a shock to see such a drastically different destiny or version of what could have been," Lily said. "The important thing is that you are not what you saw in the Pensieve and you don't have to become that, either."

"I know," Bellatrix said.

"So you agree?" Lily said.

"Yes," Bellatrix said, leaning back on the couch and closing her eyes.

"Oh," Lily said, briefly deterred in her moment of perception. She turned over the problem in her head while Bellatrix rested. Finally, she reached the answer. "You're afraid that Harry spent . . . his entire life knowing you as an awful Death Eater and that when he sees you in the here and now he still sees that same person."

Bellatrix made eye contact with Lily, the expression on her face seeming to convey her admission that Lily's perception was correct and that she appreciated the benefit of Lily's efforts, even if Bellatrix felt they were more akin to a dose of Skele-grow than anything else.

"Harry is a smart person," Lily said soothingly. "I am confident that he realizes there is a difference between you and anything you might have been or done in some alternate future."

"Obviously he knows I am not the same person," Bellatrix said, "but at some subconscious level, he must have some sort of . . . reflexive thoughts or feelings whenever he sees me. Some feelings just don't die away. One little misstep on my part could send him packing and into the arms of some other tramp. Or worse, he could just be using me spitefully."

Lily twisted her lips thoughtfully. "I think the best way forward in this situation is for you to spend more quality time with Harry."

"If I thought sleeping with each other was a complete solution, I would not be concerned," Bellatrix said.

Sidra snickered, and Lily promptly swatted her. "What I'm thinking, Bella, is that you two need to spend time together—go out to eat for fun, go see movies at the local cinema or plays in London. Attend some sporting events. Sit down and talk in your flat. Create happy memories that will override any older memories Harry might have your alternate self. Not only will this ensure that Harry knows you for who you are rather than what you might have been, but it will reassure you that things are all right in your relationship.

Bellatrix pursed her lips as she weighed Lily's suggestion. Finally, she made up her mind. "I will do precisely that. Now, you will have to excuse me. There are things that need doing. Sidra, check my appointment book."

"You said I could have the day off," Sidra protested.

"Too bad you did not leave well enough alone," Bellatrix observed.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Feeling sick to her stomach, Pansy Parkinson accepted her wand back from the guard at the Ministry's reception desk and made her way through the Ministry's main floor to the lift. A blank expression on her face, she stared at the sign near the lifts proclaiming the location of the various Ministry offices until a flirty young man came her way.

"Need help finding your way?" he inquired with his most charming smile.

Normally, Pansy would have evaluated the young wizard's looks and then treated him accordingly, but she was not in the best of spirits today. "I'm looking for Madam Black's office," she announced dully.

"That would be in the Wizengamot's wing," the young wizard said, explaining what floor that was and which way Pansy should take when she got off the lift. He had apparently noticed her mood and did not offer to escort her.

Satisfied, Pansy stepped onto the lift, followed her benefactor's instructions, and found herself in the reception area of Madam Black's suite. A familiar face from Hogwarts was there to greet her—the Potter brat.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked, outraged and slightly embarrassed.

"I work here," Sidra Potter said snippily. "Where's your father? I'm pretty sure my boss had him in mind when she had me owl the invitation."

"None of your business," Pansy growled. "Just tell your boss that I'm here to see her."

Sidra gave Pansy a dirty look, but turned, opened the door to Bellatrix Black's private office, and slipped through. In a few seconds, she exited the office. "She says you can sit down and amuse yourself while she finishes what she was doing," Sidra said.

"Maybe I will," Pansy, feeling quite aggravated, but strangely, more comfortable. Trading barbs with Sidra Potter had been a large part of her life over the past seven years, after all.

Pansy seated herself far away from Sidra's desk, crossed her legs, and struck a pose of deep thought and concentration so as to communicate to Sidra that she was thinking about something very important. In reality, she was. How was she going to weasel her family out of their situation?

Eventually, Sidra received the signal to show Pansy into the office. Bellatrix sat casually in an ornate chair behind an antique desk. Bellatrix nodded toward one of the chairs in front of the desk. Correctly interpreting the signal, Pansy seated herself in the chair as Sidra retreated from the office and shut the door behind her.

"Your father must be so brave," Bellatrix said in a low voice that carried hints of hoarseness.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, regretting the question as soon as it had left her mouth. She knew what Bellatrix meant and had fallen into the other woman's petty conversational trap. She felt a blush cover her face as she looked away.

Bellatrix steepled her fingers and peered at Pansy. "If your parents had spent more time raising you and less time gallivanting across the countryside with the Dark Lord, they might have found themselves the proud parents of a proper, pureblood scion. As it is, they are losing the war and have lost you, too."

"Did you summon me here to insult me?" Pansy snapped back. "I don't have to stand for that."

"Actually, I summoned your father here, and my insults are directed to him," Bellatrix clarified. "Admit it girl, your father is such a wimp that he had to send a teenage witch to shield him from me."

"My father isn't stupid!" Pansy hissed. "He knows which way the wind is blowing."

"Does he now?" Bellatrix inquired. "Tell me, which way is the wind blowing?"

"If he had come here today, you would have given him the choice of acceding to your requests or being sent to Azkaban," Pansy said, sounding very disgusted with Bellatrix. "And, if he had somehow found a way to walk out of the Ministry after refusing you, he would found your husband's personal squad of Aurors knocking at his door at midnight."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow and reached out to open a folder that had been sitting on your desk. "I am not an Auror who can arrest people, and I do not see any arrest orders for your father in his file."

"See!" Pansy said, pointing to the folder with a trembling finger, "the fact that you've had his file pulled is proof of your diabolical plans. And, if there is a file, there is probably enough suspicion over his head to have him arrested. It is only a matter of your husband deciding that my father is a person of interest. Well, guess what? My family is going into hiding. Your husband won't find them anywhere after today."

"Well," Bellatrix said slowly, "if your father is clever enough to divine my methods, perhaps he is also clever enough to understand what it is I want from him."

"Even I can figure that out," Pansy said. "You want his vote when you attempt to launch your coup against Minister Prewitt."

"Your powers of observation astound me."

"Well I have news for you, Madam Black," Pansy spat, "my father won't cast his Wizengamot vote in favor of a power mad, manipulative . . . bitch like yourself."

Bellatrix giggled softly. "Did your father really tell you to say that to me?"

Pansy's cheeks colored.

"I did not think so," Bellatrix said as her laughter subsided. "No, your father expected you to serve as my messenger. Did he not make that clear to you?"

"What are you saying?" Pansy asked.

"It seems your father is also aware of your woeful lack of education in politics and pureblood matters. He knew that you would not be able to bandy words with me. Your presence here today is the message he wished to send. Anything that crossed your lips in our conversation was extra. And now, I shall send you back with my answer. Tell your father that I will give him the opportunity to vote my way at the crucial moment and receive a measure of leniency if and when he and his fellow Death Eaters help bring this war to a satisfactory end when I signal them to do so."

Pansy's mouth dropped open, and she attempted to say something, but Bellatrix held up her hand.

"I am not interested in what you have to say. If your father does not like the idea, you can tell him that if the Dark Lord's defeat does not come about the easy way, my husband will have no choice but to cut down every last foot soldier on his way to striking down the Dark Lord."

Pansy tried to speak again, but Bellatrix stood up, produced a sealed letter from her sleeve, and handed it to Pansy. "Deliver that to your father."

"What makes you think my father will cooperate?" Pansy said rapidly managing to squeeze in a question before Bellatrix could cut her off.

"He is too much of a coward not to do so," Bellatrix answered simply.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Repeatedly, the scenes Harry had seen in Voldemort's mind flashed before Harry's eyes as Harry slept. As unpleasant as the dreams were, Harry was still eager for any information that might lead him to discovering the nature and location of the final horcrux. He focused intently on everything, but was frustrated as the dreams moved too quickly and with too scant detail. And then, there was every reason to believe that his dreams were not a completely accurate reflection of what he had seen. After all, they were dreams.

Before Harry had the opportunity to really learn anything he did not know, sleep fled from him, and Harry's senses were suddenly reminded that he was sleeping in his bed. He sighed and rolled over, trying to deny that it was time to wake up and letting himself be fooled into believing that his morning fuzziness was a good enough sleep substitute.

Eventually, a delicious aroma emanating from the direction of the kitchen pierced through Harry's reluctance to start his day. After a stop at the bathroom for a quick shower, Harry dressed and made his way through the flat to the kitchen and discovered that Bellatrix had ordered takeout. This was not unusual—anytime that Bellatrix was in charge of a meal, she went for frozen or takeout. But this time, she had invested time into formally setting the table and serving the food on their own dinnerware.

"What gives?" Harry said curiously as he slipped into his usual seat at the table.

"I thought it would be nice if we had a little bit of a date night," Bellatrix said brightly, coming over and giving Harry a quick kiss.

Instantly, Harry's senses were on high alert, but he opted not to ask any questions—he doubted that she would give him any straightforward answers.

Taking her chair, Bellatrix picked up a fork and began outlining the agenda as she and Harry ate. "As soon as we finish dinner, we will attend a Muggle cinema. Afterward, we will Apparate to a nice park and walk together, ending with a visit to an ice cream shop."

"You do realize that I have a job, don't you?" Harry said, enjoying the meal despite his trepidation.

Bellatrix scowled as she picked up a glass of water. "You will have plenty of time to go to your job."

"Oh good," Harry said, daring to wink flirtatiously, "because I really like my job."

Bellatrix ignored the joke and pushed forward with conversation unrelated to Harry's job. "Have you ever thought about our future—you know, what we might be doing after the war? For instance, where we might want to live?"

Harry shrugged and grinned at her mischievously. "I was thinking we'd just keep living here. We could kick out the tenants in the shops below us and convert the place into some sort of inner city mansion."

"It would be the tackiest place in the neighborhood, Harry," Bellatrix said.

"You're not going to call me a dimwit?"

"Not during our date night, anyway," Bellatrix said.

"I think I like date night," Harry mused as he speared a potato slice with his fork. "Can we do this more often? Like every night?"

"It wouldn't be a special occasion if we did it every night," Bellatrix pointed out. "Besides, there is your job to consider."

"I will probably get laid off after the war," Harry predicted. "So maybe we should set a weekly date night, and I will be content to suffer the inconvenience of romancing you on the same nights I go to work until I can be unemployed."

"I would not feel comfortable forcing you to make such a drastic sacrifice," Bellatrix countered, "but if you insist, I suppose we could have another date night next week."

"Or sooner," Harry amended, a playful smile on his face. "I mean, if we're free tomorrow night, we should probably take advantage of it. You never know what could come up."

Bellatrix put a thoughtful expression on her face as she chewed. After an extended pause, she swallowed and announced the verdict "I think we'll have to see how this date night goes. Now eat faster, or we will be late for the movie."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Despite the movie being a shameless chick flick and the theater being filled with giggly girls and only the occasional dating couple, Harry enjoyed the movie far more than Bellatrix did, though Bellatrix did find other avenues of entertainment. Bellatrix's amusements embarrassed Harry more than anything else, but he did roar with laughter when a teenaged girl who had been unabashedly talking during the movie shrieked as the icy contents of Bellatrix's drink found their way into the collar of her shirt and from there down into her pants.

As soon as the credits began rolling, Bellatrix grabbed Harry's hand and, in the darkened back of the theater, double-apparated him away to a nice city park with a long walking path. As they walked, they talked, and soon, Bellatrix turned the conversation back to the future.

"I think it would be wonderful to rebuild Ravenbourgh," Bellatrix told Harry. "We have plenty of gold, and my investments will soon be bringing in good returns."

"What would two people do with a really big house like that?" Harry asked.

"We would have one or two children, maybe," Bellatrix suggested.

"So, four people in a really big house," Harry said, indicating that he still thought Ravenbourgh would be excessive.

"We could invite Sirius and Leo to live with us," Bellatrix hypothesized, "or any Blacks in general. After all, it would be the ancestral home. I lived with my aunt and uncle in Grimmauld Place often."

Harry appeared to be in deep thought. "I know how we could get more people to live with us! We could convince Leo and Rose to elope and then give them sanctuary."

"Your mother would strangle you dead," Bellatrix said as they happened upon an ice cream vendor and purchased cones. Slowly, the made their way to a park bench and sat down.

"It would be too tame anyway," Harry said, returning to the elopement conversation. "I think everybody knows that those two will get married. It would be funnier to convince Sidra to elope. Now, who is a guy we both really hate?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Deciding that she had eaten enough ice cream, she tossed the remainder of the cone to the geese gathered nearby, produced a self-inking quill, and began sketching on the napkin. "We would not have to rebuild Ravenbourgh as it was originally," she told Harry. "It can have a slightly more modest size."

"Can it have a Quidditch pitch?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"All right. Build it, and I will come."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Later that night, Harry cheerfully made his way into the DMLE suites and found Amelia in her office, poring over maps of Britain and lists of potential targets for their Auror squad. Harry took a seat and leaned back. "Got anybody special in mind?" he asked.

"Not really," Amelia said. "What about you?"

"Nope," Harry said.

"Oh."

Amelia returned to studying the papers on her desk. "What about the Parkinsons?" she asked casually.

"Isn't he on the Wizengamot," Harry asked.

"For the time being," Amelia said. "If we were to discover that he is a Death Eater and get him convicted for any crimes, he would of course be dropped from the Wizengamot."

"Yes, but I was hoping that as a general matter we would try to avoid the Wizengamot members who don't make a habit of being too much of a public nuisance," Harry said. "They could be more useful later on. You know, if we happen to need high-profile arrests or some sort of leverage over other Death Eaters."

"I see," Amelia said casually. "Tell me, does your wife ever suggest potential targets for our squad?"

Harry shook his head. "We don't really talk about my job here that much."

"Interesting," Amelia sighed, looking away from the maps and staring blankly at a framed painting on one of her walls. "I bet your wife is really good at chess."

Harry smiled as he thought about that comment. "I used to play chess with one of my schoolmates. It never occurred to me to try it with Bella. Maybe I'll go buy a set."

"You do that," Amelia said drily. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"Can we do dark artifact raids even if we don't have a lot of evidence that a family has a Death Eater member?" Harry asked, thinking back to how the phantom horcrux had previously been located in Walburga Black's residence.

"I suppose we could," Amelia mused, "though we'd have to do a little bit of legwork to establish suspicion for each house we want to raid."

"Let's try some of that tonight—or at least get the groundwork going," Harry decided. "Death Eater raids have decreased, and we've been finding fewer and fewer Death Eaters at home. Right now, I think our priority should be recovering one of the Dark Lord's magical objects that I've probably mentioned to you before."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Probably because he returned from work earlier than normal, Harry found Bellatrix in the living room and still awake when he returned home. Somehow, she had obtained maps of the Ravenbourgh property as well as some old designs of the original manor. Harry was not particularly interested in discussing Ravenbourgh, but he plopped down on the couch next to Bellatrix where he could watch her consider the options for Ravenbourgh's future.

"I think the original manor was a little too old-fashioned," Bellatrix said to Harry by way of greeting. "Once we eliminate the stone walls, the size of the manor shrinks considerably without losing any of the living space of the original."

"Okay," Harry said, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and luxuriating in the comfort. "You do realize, though, don't you, that if you have this thing built while the war is still going on, it is likely to become a target?"

"The war will end well before we need to actually bring in on-site construction crews, though I wonder if it would help to start clearing away the old rubble sooner than later," Bellatrix mused.

"Whatever you think is best," Harry mumbled, feeling a little sleepy and thus relishing the feeling of sitting on a nice couch with his eyes closed listening to the rustling of Bellatrix's parchment.

Harry had nearly dozed off when Bellatrix abandoned her sheets of parchment and cuddled up next to him. She kissed him, and he sleepily reciprocated.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry woke up alone on the couch the next morning. Assuming that Bellatrix had gone into work, Harry summoned Kreacher. "Find Rose Potter and Leo Black," Harry requested as he yawned widely. "Discreetly tell them that they're invited to a little meeting I am going to hold with Professor Dumbledore. They can meet me at Hogwarts in about half an hour."

"Yes, master," Kreacher said before disappearing.

Swiftly, Harry went through an abbreviated version of his morning ablutions and found something to eat in the kitchen. Once he was satisfied that he was prepared for an outing, he went to one of the cupboards in the kitchen, cancelled the magical locks on it, grabbed the vial inside, and used his phoenix fire spell to instantly transport him to the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry was not surprised to see that Rose and Leo were already waiting there for him. "It never ceases to amaze me how it is that you two are able to get away from whatever you're doing whenever I call."

"I'm usually with Rose anyway," Leo admitted.

"I see," Harry said as he led the two teens toward the castle's entrance.

"Do you already have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore?" Rose asked.

"No," Harry admitted. "But, I think he'll be willing to drop whatever he's doing for me."

"What if he isn't here today?" Rose asked.

Harry shrugged. "I think we'll be able to do what I was hoping to do anyway if the Room of Requirement cooperates."

"What is it we're doing, then?" Rose asked, being persistent.

"Attempting to identify the final horcrux," Harry said as they all entered the castle. "Once we know what and where it is, we should be able to begin planning the Dark Lord's funeral."

"You want me to use my Seer powers," Rose observed.

Harry nodded. "That is one optional part of the strategy." He withdrew the vial from one of his pockets. "I am going to share my memories of what I saw when I invaded the Dark Lord's mind. Perhaps then, we can all discuss what I saw. And, perhaps you, Rose, can use that as fodder to have some sort of vision."

With a strange expression on her face, Rose stared at the vial. "Wait, is that the same vial you put all your Pensieve memories into?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Oh," Rose said sounding a bit apprehensive, "okay."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"Shouldn't you be showing this to your wife and Hermione, too?" Leo asked.

"Bella feels that she has done all she can on the horcrux front," Harry said. "As for Hermione, I am guessing that we will find her here already."

Harry proved to be correct, for when they were admitted to Professor Dumbledore's office, they found that Professor Dumbledore and Hermione had been discussing some magical theorems as part of Hermione's post-Hogwarts education. Despite the interruption, both Dumbledore and Hermione were eager to assist Harry.

Dumbledore quickly produced the Pensieve. Harry uncapped the vial and poured the contents into the Pensieve. Rather than swirl around, however, the contents of the vial disappeared.

"Is this supposed to happen?" Harry asked, looking at the Pensieve.

"You must have gotten the wrong vial," Dumbledore said, frowning.

"No," Harry said slowly as he looked into the vial and then back toward the Pensieve, "this is the correct vial."

"Maybe somebody stole it," Rose suggested in a very small voice.

Harry shook his head. "Impossible. My flat is very well-warded—especially after Bellatrix started storing the horcruxes we've found."

"Well, maybe Bellatrix borrowed your memories," Leo suggested.

Rose gave Leo a distressed glance.

"Bellatrix . . . ," Harry said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes as his thoughts raced.

"Do you think it was her?" Hermione asked.

Harry suddenly smiled. "Of course it was her. That would explain a lot."

"Explain what?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Her behavior," Harry said.

"Did you have any secrets you were trying to keep from her?" Dumbledore asked swiftly, his blue eyes staring intently into Harry's green eyes.

Harry shrugged. "I was hoping to spare her from having to know certain things about my future. There is no harm done to anybody but us"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Rose asked.

"Milk it for all it is worth," Harry declared vaguely as he pulled his wand. He glanced at Professor Dumbledore. "I assume that I can just repeat the same basic process for getting the memory I want to show you."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed.

Harry used his wand to withdraw the memory from his head and placed it in the Pensieve. At his signal, the group entered the Pensieve. To their dismay, they discovered that viewing the memory of what amounted to Harry's thoughts was very difficult. Although they were clearly in the memory, the colors swirling around refused to form into anything anybody could recognize. The sound was a little bit better, but still, nobody could make out any real words.

"How were you able to identify the horcrux in the Ministry and the snake through all of this?" Leo asked.

"I saw more than this," Harry said slowly as he spun around and tried to get his bearings.

"There are some things that just do not translate into a Pensieve," Dumbledore observed, also seeming disappointed.

"I guess we'll have to think of something else," Harry sighed.

"Let's not give up so quickly," Hermione said. "Harry, are you able to remember what it is we are supposed to be looking at?"

"Mostly," Harry said. He swished his wand and their surroundings shifted and stopped. "This is where I started looking to find the horcrux. The Dark Lord and some Death Eaters are in a room together. The original form of the horcrux is here in the room."

"Well, let's go through the memory, then," Hermione said. "Stop it when the scene, as it were, ends."

They played through the memory nearly two dozen times as Harry tried to match parts of the memory to the details he could remember and then explain it to them. Eventually, they honed onto the exact moment that Voldemort had transferred a portion of his soul from one horcrux to another.

"This is hopeless," Harry finally declared, pausing the memory.

"I am afraid that I must concur," Dumbledore said after a moment.

"Perhaps we have been focusing too much on what we can see with our eyes," Rose said, stepping closer to Dumbledore and Harry. Start the memory again and let me try some things. Replay it every time it reaches the end."

Dumbledore shrugged, and Harry nodded as he swished his wand. Rose stood in the center of the memory scene and closed her eyes. For the next hour, the group watched as Rose stood silently with her eyes closed while Harry played the memory repeatedly.

Harry was ready to quit when Rose suddenly spoke for the first time since she had closed her eyes. "Stop the memory now!"

"Do you see something?" Leo asked.

"In a way," Rose said, obviously trying to sound mysterious.

"Then do explain," Harry said tiredly.

"Is this not the exact moment that the horcrux changes hosts?" Rose asked.

"Yes, we established that already," Hermione said, sounding very exasperated.

"I had no way of knowing that," Rose defended. "I was focused on my inner-eye."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, sounding very convinced.

"Just tell us what you saw," Harry cut in.

"It's not the same as actually seeing," Rose tried to explain.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said sternly.

Rose sighed. "I think that the horcrux is now in one of the Death Eaters."

"Is that even possible?" Harry wondered.

"Of course it is!" Hermione said. "You have already seen that one of the horcruxes is in the snake."

Harry shrugged. "I thought it would be easier if you were dealing with a familiar. I mean, it isn't as if a snake is the same as a completely different wizard or witch."

"Seem like a brilliant idea to me," Leo offered. "It's hard to catch a horcrux if it can run away and fight back."

"I suppose so," Harry said dubiously. "But, it seems to me that it would be safer to keep portions of your soul in objects that you can lock away without having to worry about it running away or deciding it needs to nip out for a drink or something."

"And still, the inanimate object strategy does not seem to be working for You-Know-Who, does it?" Leo snickered.

Dumbledore spoke up. "Can you be completely sure that the horcrux now resides in a Death Eater, Miss Potter?"

"Yes."

"But which Death Eater would You-Know-Who trust to be the horcrux?" Hermione wondered.

"Or what Death Eater could possibly be that dedicated?" Leo said, turning the question around.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lily plunked the final serving dish for dinner on the table as her husband and two youngest children looked on eagerly. She sat down, and the family was just about to begin when the front door opened to admit Sidra.

"You're just in time," James said, smiling at his oldest daughter.

"I'm so exhausted," Sidra complained as she kicked off her Muggle-style heels and joined the rest of the family at the table. "That witch is out of her mind! She never stops."

"Well, she is younger than you," Rose snickered.

Sidra grabbed her fork and pointed it at Rose. "Don't you dare bring that up."

"She already did, dear," Lily said, grabbing the pea bowl, scooping some peas onto her plate, and passing the bowl on to her son who furtively passed it onto the next person without partaking.

"What did you and Bellatrix do today?" James asked.

"She started the morning furthering her political machinations by meeting with more shady Wizengamot members," Sidra commented as she helped herself to some potatoes. "Then, for lunch we went out to some Muggle clothes shop so that Bellatrix could buy more Muggle clothes. Then we went to a restaurant, ordered, and she went in to the restroom to change. When she came out, she announced we'd be taking our food to go, and I had to eat from a take-home container while we visited Muggle real estate brokers and bankers."

"Some of the Order members have speculated that she might be angling to replace Minister Prewitt," Lily said as she held her spoon absentmindedly.

"Sounds like she's too busy building the Black fortune," James said drily as he waited for a food dish to come his way.

"Minister of Magic? Her?" Sidra said, sounding outraged. "She's younger than me! And she didn't even finish Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake!"

""We're not supposed to mention that!" Rose said gruffly.

"Shut up!" Sidra barked.

"Calm yourselves," James sighed as he poked at the meat platter with a fork before choosing a slice to move to his plate. "Did anyone else do something interesting today?"

"I helped Harry find the location of the final horcrux," Rose said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, where is it?" Lily said, sounding very interested.

"I can't say for sure," Rose admitted. "But we made significant progress. And you might be interested to know that Harry found out about Bellatrix stealing his memories."

"How did he take that?" Lily asked.

Rose shrugged. "He didn't seem overly concerned."

"Harry must be a saint," Lily mused, finally using her spoon to begin eating. "John? Anything interesting for you?"

"I ate a chocolate frog and found my first Harry Ashworth Black card!" John volunteered.

"Whoopee," Sidra said grouchily.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Amelia Bones paced back and forth in the small private dining room that the barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron had made available for her use. Seated at the dining table were a number of her most influential political allies.

"Can't we start already?" Amos Diggory sighed, clearly not excited to be present.

"It isn't good to be out so late," Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed, glancing significantly at the clock. "And, in a public place, no less."

"Just a few more moments," Amelia said, continuing to pace as her thoughts roiled. "I'm sure he'll show up."

Amelia's prediction proved true, for the door opened abruptly to admit Andrew Foxe. "Sorry that I'm late," he said brightly as Amelia shut the door behind him.

Diggory rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Where is Edward?" Amelia asked, frowning slightly.

"He doesn't generally leave his office these days," Andrew said. "It wasn't until I returned from my diplomatic post that I realized how reclusive he has become."

"It seems like a wise lifestyle to me," Kingsley Shacklebolt commented. "As the Head of the Department of Mysteries, he surely is a high-profile target. He knows things that You-Know-Who would surely want to know. And, as the most senior Department Head, he becomes Acting Minister if Prewitt becomes incapacitated."

"Yes, quite," Andrew said, not quite making eye contact with Kingsley as he made his way to the table and took a seat among Amelia's half dozen or so political allies.

"Let's get down to business," Diggory insisted.

"Fine," Amelia said. However, instead of sitting down at the table, she merely altered the path of her pacing. "I have recently discovered direct evidence that Bellatrix Black is planning a coup at the Ministry. I believe she intends to buy the votes of Death Eater Wizengamot members with promises of clemency after the war."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "So, what? If the Dark Lord's followers betray him and help install Madam Black as Minister, the war likely ends and we have an extremely virile Minister who is likely to outlive all of them. She'll be there to enforce the bargain and keep them in line."

"Coups are not a good idea during a war," Kingsley commented, sounding concerned.

"Prewitt is getting old, though," another of those present commented. "Is there any heir apparent?"

"Crouch," Amelia said.

The silence that permeated the room served as a good commentary as to what those present thought about Crouch being Minister.

"So really, we should be thinking about a potential replacement for Prewitt anyway," another present observed. "That is, if we don't want a Minister Crouch."

"I've counted the votes," Amelia announced. "Crouch is the heir apparent, but in fact, Madam Black seems to have enough to block him, even if she doesn't have enough to install herself. That leaves us and those we usually are able to influence to be the so-called independents and choose the lesser of two evils."

"All right," Andrew said, spreading his hands innocently. "Let us consider the two 'evils.' On one side, we have Barty Crouch, who has been working his way up the ladder for his entire career. He has his enemies and . . . enemies. As head of the DMLE, he is essentially the Ministry's field marshal in this war. His rhetoric shows that he vehemently opposes the Dark Lord, but in practice, he seems to be a gutless weenie. He hasn't lost the Ministry a lot of ground, but he sure hasn't gained any. His views and practices are narrow, and he is incapable of developing new strategies."

"Andrew, I think we already get the picture," Amelia sighed.

"Fine," Andrew said. "Now, what's the other evil? Bellatrix Black—also adamantly opposed to the Dark Lord."

"Really?" one of Amelia's friends called out. "She's actually just a mercenary. Somehow, Harry Black managed to buy her off."

"Exactly!" Andrew said, grinning. "She's a mercenary who had been paid to adamantly oppose the Dark Lord. You pay her with money, power, and prestige, and she will get you results. Since joining the Wizengamot, she's done more than some have done while sitting on it for decades."

"Aside from my concerns about hiring a 'mercenary' to be Minister, there is the fact that Madam Black seems remarkably immature and unseasoned," Diggory commented.

"Oh, please," Andrew said, "she's got to be at least forty years old by now."

"Well Andrew, I do see potential in Madam Black," Amelia admitted. "But," she said, holding up her hand to forestall Andrew from commenting, "it is yet undeveloped. If Madam Black continues to participate in the Wizengamot and perhaps even takes up a Ministry position, she could be well qualified to serve as Minister in about ten or fifteen years."

Andrew arched an eyebrow. "Are you voting for Crouch, then? Because I don't think anybody else here is going to join you."

"Not at all," Amelia said smoothly. "I propose that we select our own candidate. Then, we can try to solicit votes from either Crouch's camp or Black's camp by promising high Ministry positions."

"Very clever," Kingsley sighed.

"What?" Diggory asked.

"Amelia thinks that she should be Minister," Andrew said for those who had not picked up on Amelia's subtleties. "I imagine she thinks she can get Madam Black to help her if Amelia promises Madam Black that she can be heir apparent."

"I'm certainly more qualified than Madam Black," Amelia said defensively.

"Isn't this all hypothetical?" another person in the room demanded. "I mean, if Madam Black doesn't have enough votes to make herself Minister outright, and if Prewitt isn't about to retire, what's the point of all this rigmarole?"

"Well, we have to be prepared," Amelia said. "I think big changes are coming to our country. Harry Black is likely to defeat the Dark Lord."

Andrew Foxe jumped on that. "Then why don't we throw our support behind Harry Black to be Minister?"

"How about we just not worry about it!" one witch said grouchily. "I don't foresee any power changing hands anytime soon. Amelia, if something does happen, you can count on our support for you or for whomever you wish to nominate. I'll leave it to you to round up votes from the Black or Crouch camp. As for me, I'm going home."

Most of those present murmured their agreement, and before Amelia could say anything else, the meeting had adjourned.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The question of the final horcrux still buzzed faintly in the back of Harry's mind, but he was too busy thinking about his marriage to focus on it. When he had come home from Hogwarts and some of the extra errands he had run afterward, he had discovered that Bellatrix had sent out for an early dinner. Over that dinner, he and Bellatrix had talked a lot—or rather, Bellatrix had talked a lot. Her topic had been the future. Harry had responded agreeably and contributed to the conversation, knowing that it had been inspired by whatever she had seen in the Pensieve.

As much as Harry had enjoyed the topics they had discussed, it had also saddened him somewhat. When she had talked about making Ravenbourgh a little smaller, like Harry had wanted, or when she had casually hinted in so many words that Harry could have as many children as he wanted when Harry knew full well that she originally had not wanted very many, was she trying solicit Harry's love? Or was she sweetening the deal of what she viewed as an essential business partnership?

The former alternative made Harry feel guilty, for he thought he had shown her love, and he hated to see her beg for it. The latter also depressed Harry. He hoped that it was the former, though he knew that her nature made the latter more likely. Maybe he could do better. He could reassure her by doing spontaneous things, perhaps. Like the surprise dinner tactic that she was already employing.

After dinner they had retired to bed. Harry was now lying on his side with Bellatrix spooning him from the back, her right arm wrapped tightly around his torso as she slept and Harry thought. Eventually he used a bit of wandless magic to shut off the lights and drifted asleep.

After several hours, nightmares of Harry's past began creeping into his head. It felt like one of the dreams of Voldemort's thoughts with which Harry was overly familiar, but it was different—the scenes playing in his head were of his own future, a future that this future's Voldemort could know nothing about.

For some reason, memories of the Triwizard Tournament were prominent in his head. Although the third task had been the only truly miserable part of the whole thing, Harry had never enjoyed looking back on the Tournament because of the shadow Cedric Diggory's death had cast upon the entire thing.

Dreamily sighing at his stupidity, Harry watched as the Alastor Moody imposter hauled him into the castle after Harry had escaped from the graveyard. And then, Harry knew the answer. Harry gasped and begin to hyperventilate, eventually waking himself as he shot upright in bed despite Bellatrix's firm grip around his middle.

Cursing at himself angrily, Harry hopped out of bed and began dressing.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked sleepily, sitting up and looking unusually innocent and adorable with her state of undress and mussed hair.

"The horcrux," Harry said. "It's in Crouch!"

"Wait, Director Crouch?" Bellatrix asked.

"No, his son!" Harry said as he put one of his feet into his best dragonhide boots and stomped to settle his foot in it.

"Fortunately, he's in Azkaban," Bellatrix pointed out.

"No, no, no!" Harry said, stomping to get the other boot on his other foot. "It is not fortunate! It's a disaster! Don't you realize that half the reason they put so many guards at Azkaban is that they are trying to keep Tom away from the Dementors?" Cursing, Harry ran out of the room and began rummaging through the supplies in the spare bedroom.

Bellatrix yawned. "I knew I was doing the right thing by not voting to send him to Azkaban."

44. The Night Darkens

A/N: Thank you as always for your fantastic reviews.

Chapter 43: The Night Darkens

Lord Silvere

Before Harry could depart from the flat, Bellatrix had insisted on accompanying him. Harry took the time to send a Patronus messenger to Amelia and then chafed as he waited for Bellatrix to follow his example and don robes suitable for dueling and battle.

When she was finally prepared, Harry rolled his eyes and held out his arm so that Bellatrix could take it and double apparate with him to a public Floo. From there, they made their way to the Ministry lobby, past the curious reception guards, and up to the DMLE's floor.

"About time you got here," Amelia said as they stepped off the lift. She was leaning against the reception desk. "What's the emergency?" she asked as she motioned them toward a private room near the lobby.

Harry hesitated as he tried to find a way to explain the situation while they walked.

Bellatrix detected the hesitation and spoke up as soon as the door to the private room closed behind them. "We believe that the Dark Lord has implanted a portion of his own soul into Barty Crouch, Jr."

Amelia looked shocked, but she took it well. She focused on Harry. "And you are nervous that Barty will cause trouble in Azkaban?"

Harry shrugged. "I think it is a possibility. I am actually amazed that the Ministry has prevented the bulk of the Dementors from defecting to the Dark Lord. With Barty in Azkaban, the Dark Lord has indirect access. That could lead to trouble. Mostly, though, we need to destroy this portion of the Dark Lord's soul as soon as possible—while we know where it is."

"How do you destroy a portion of someone's soul?" Amelia asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Harry hedged, trying to hide that he suspected it would involve a killing curse.

"Worry about that later," Bellatrix suggested. "You should just get him into more controlled custody for now."

"Well, yes, I agree with that plan," Amelia said.

"Summon up the normal squad or any spare Aurors on duty, and let's go," Harry said.

Amelia winced. "We can't just remove a prisoner from Azkaban without authorization. Ministry policy requires approval from Director Crouch."

Harry suddenly had an urge to strangle all bureaucrats everywhere.

"That is really inconvenient," Bellatrix observed.

"I thought I had a broad grant of authority from Minister Prewitt," Harry said.

"Not that broad," Amelia said. "If I can't do it, I don't think you can do it either. Shall I contact Director Crouch and have him come here?"

"If that's the only way," Harry said, beginning to pace impatiently. "While you're at it, summon Minister Prewitt. And while we're waiting for them, start gathering a team of Aurors."

Amelia lips twitched as she mock saluted. "I'll let you do the talking when they get here." She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Harry," Bellatrix said, "if we take a bunch of Aurors and raid Azkaban, the Dark Lord's agents are going to notice."

"If we move fast, we can have Crouch barricaded in the Ministry or some other safe location before the Death Eaters can move," Harry said.

"I suppose so," Bellatrix said.

Several moments passed while Harry paced and Bellatrix stood still, her arms folded and lips pursed.

"Do you think he knows we have the other horcruxes?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry stopped. "I hope not."

"He might suspect, seeing as we went after the one in the Ministry. He might have checked his hiding places." Bellatrix said.

"If Amelia scares up enough Aurors for my visit to Azkaban, perhaps you could go and destroy the horcruxes we have," Harry suggested.

"My thoughts exactly," Bellatrix said.

"How are you going to deal with the walking and talking one?" Harry asked.

"Killing curse," Bellatrix said shortly.

"Great. That's probably our only option with Barty, too, isn't it?" Harry said.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I am sure I could spend a lot of time cooking up a way to separate a horcrux from a person. But, why bother? We can just arrange for an accident when Amelia is not looking."

"It might be more graceful to let him nearly escape so we can at least have an excuse for the dead body," Harry grumbled.

"What makes you think I would even leave a body anywhere to be found?" Bellatrix said, rolling her eyes. "I am an aspiring politician, not a lazy murderer."

The door to the room suddenly burst open to admit a red-faced Director Crouch. Despite being a relatively frail person, anger lent him a more imposing presence. "What is the meaning of this Black? What makes you think you can just walk into the Ministry in the middle of the night and start issuing orders to have a prisoner transported from Azkaban to the Ministry?"

"My husband has given no such order, dimwit," Bellatrix said. "He is politely requesting that you issue the order."

"I see no reason to order a condemned prisoner to be transported back here," Crouch barked.

"If you already knew of a reason, I am sure you would have already done it," said Minister Prewitt, his voice heralding his arrival in the room. "Perhaps we should find out what Mr. Black and Madam Black have in mind before we pass judgment."

Amelia followed the Minister into the room and closed the door.

Harry smiled gratefully at the Minister. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your sleep," he said, feeling a twinge of guilt as he noted that the Minister looked tired and pale.

"You are not the first and will not be the last," Prewitt sighed. "What is it we need to do?"

"What I say needs to be kept confidential," Harry said.

"Of course," Prewitt said, nodding tiredly. "Everything said here is to be confidential."

"We strongly believe that the Dark Lord has implanted a portion of his soul into . . . the prisoner," Harry said, deciding that it would be best not to emphasize that said prisoner was Director Crouch's son.

"Preposterous!" Crouch said.

"Somehow, I doubt that you are well-researched on the subject," Prewitt said, trying to sound as reasonable and non-accusing as possible for Crouch's sake. "I think we should accept this assertion at face value."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"The key to this inquiry is why we need to move the prisoner on short notice and with such little preparation," Prewitt said.

"Exactly!" Crouch said, moving to stand at Minister Prewitt's side and, in physical effect, trying to cut Harry out of the loop.

"I feel that it is more risky to wait," Harry said. "If we can capture a portion of the Dark Lord's soul, our footing in this war improves dramatically. We've been looking for this for months. It has taken a lot of effort to discover this portion of the soul, and I'm afraid it could slip away."

"Even if what Black says is true, the prisoner is going nowhere," Barty said, suddenly sounding reasonable and cool headed. It seemed that he was gathering his wits and getting past his base reaction.

"If I may, Minister Prewitt," Bellatrix said. "Surely it is dangerous to let a portion of the Dark Lord's soul be in such close proximity to the Dementors."

"Do you even know anything about Dementors?" Crouch asked coolly.

"No," Bellatrix admitted. "Somehow, I doubt that you do, either."

Minister Prewitt smiled. "I think we should get an expert opinion on the matter." He looked toward Amelia. "Summon Edward Foxe."

Amelia left the room, and an awkward silence descended upon it. After about ten minutes, Amelia returned with Edward Foxe in tow. Despite the late hour, the white-haired head of the Department of Mysteries looked as if he was at the top of his game.

"Greetings, Minister," Edward Foxe said. "It has been long since we crossed paths."

Minister Prewitt frowned. "Some of that is your fault."

"I suppose so," Foxe said as he took a seat. He looked at Minister Prewitt expectantly.

Realizing that Foxe was not going to ask what he wanted, Prewitt finally caved in and posed the question. "Do you have any expertise on the subject of Dementors?"

"I would be a poor Chief Unspeakable if I did not," Foxe said.

"The Blacks claim that a portion of You-Know-Who's soul has been embedded into a prisoner," Minister Prewitt said.

Harry, who was watching Foxe, thought he detected a startled twitch in the man's composure, but he might have imagined it.

"Obviously, the Blacks want to get their hands on this prisoner. The question is whether we should move him immediately or whether we should wait."

"Or whether we should let them near him at all," Crouch interjected. "This is a hare-brained theory and a knee-jerk reaction."

Minister Prewitt continued, ignoring Crouch's interruption. "The Blacks say there is danger to allowing a portion of You-Know-Who's soul so close to the Dementors and that we should move the prisoner sooner than later. I am interested in your opinion."

Foxe sat still for a moment as everybody waited for him to render a verdict on Harry's proposed plan of action. "Minister," Foxe finally said, "I know of no spell or method that the prisoner could use to cause trouble for us with the Dementors—"

"Thank you," Crouch said. "Min—"

Foxe's stern gaze silenced Crouch. "I was not finished, Crouch," Foxe said firmly. "Minister, despite my not knowing of any specific danger, it would be reckless to leave any . . . portion of the Dark Lord so close to the Dementors or even anywhere not closely supervised by actual wizards. I suggest that you give orders for the Aurors to assist Mr. Black."

"And take the prisoner where?" Prewitt said, waving his hand to silence Crouch.

Foxe shrugged and stood up. "Let the Blacks figure that out."

"Very well," Prewitt said, heaving a sigh as he used the table to push himself up. His deep breaths indicated how much effort it had taken. "Harry, take as many Aurors as you feel is necessary and take care of this."

"You are forgetting something," Crouch said very calmly.

"What is it, Barty?" Prewitt asked.

"A prisoner cannot be moved without my ratification."

"Then your give your approval, Barty," Prewitt said.

"But, I do not approve," Crouch said curtly.

"Look, Barty," Prewitt said, his voice getting rising, "I've made a decision, and I expect you to support me."

"I am not going to let the Blacks convince you to remove that prisoner from Azkaban! It could be a trick. He was a Death Eater, he was convicted, and now he's in Azkaban. That's where he stays." Crouch said tersely.

"We don't doubt that he's a Death Eater, you moron!" Prewitt said, practically now yelling. "We think he's too dangerous to keep in Azkaban. I want him moved."

Harry, Bellatrix, and Amelia were glancing at each other uncomfortably. Even Edward Foxe had turned from his retreat toward the door to stare at the confrontation.

"The Blacks are talking you into making a mistake," Crouch hissed. "I am not going to give the authorization."

"Then I'll fire you," Prewitt yelled. "In fact, consider yourself relieved of duty as of this moment!"

"Think again, Minister," Crouch said, his composure breaking as he yelled. "If you allow Harry Black to carry out this foolhardy plan, I will summon the Wizengamot for an emergency meeting and call for a no confidence vote."

"You impertinent bastard!" Prewitt exploded. "You think you can replace me? I have led this war since the moment Cygnus Black was assassinated. I have sacrificed everything to fighting this war! My sons, my time, my health, my well-deserved retirement . . . . How dare you even suggest a no confidence vote against me? Barty, you stand down, or else—"

Suddenly, Minister Prewitt was clutching his chest as he slumped to the floor, gasping as he tried to reach for the table to support himself.

"Oh, Merlin," Amelia breathed.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Well, someone must have stepped in it good," the Auror standing opposite of Captain Frank Longbottom snickered as she and Frank listened to Minister Prewitt shout at somebody from the other side of the door.

"I hope he cusses them out good," Frank yawned. "Worst thing about being captain of the bodyguard is that you have to go on any field trips. If it weren't for this fool, I'd still be asleep."

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Amelia Bones ran out. "We need a medic!" she screamed.

Instantly, Frank pushed past Amelia and into the room and stared in horror at the Minister's prone form on the floor. A wizard he recognized as Edward Fox was kneeling over him.

"Forget the medic," Frank heard himself yell. "We've got to get him to St. Mungo's."

Edward Foxe shook his head as he got to his feet. "It's too late. He's dead. Heart attack, I should think." He looked around the room at those present. The only one who did not look particularly stunned was Amelia Bones, who was anxiously sharing glances between Prewitt's body and the lobby.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked.

"As per Ministry policy, I am now the Acting Minister," Edward Foxe announced.

"Not so fast," Crouch said. "I'm the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We're in a war!"

"Policy is policy, Mr. Crouch," Minister Foxe said smoothly. "I have been a Department Head for longer than you. As it is, I am affirming Minister Prewitt's decision to relieve you of duty. And, I am going to instruct Captain Bones to take you into custody until we understand fully why you have been acting so strangely this night. Mr. Black, until further notice, you will be the Acting Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Gather as many Aurors as you need, and do what you feel you must. Captain Longbottom, remain with me. The rest of you, leave."

In less than fifteen seconds, Frank Longbottom was alone in the room with Minister Foxe. Confused, Frank watched as the Acting Minister pulled out a chair from the generic desk and extracted writing supplies from a drawer.

"What is it you need, Minister?" Frank asked.

"I have a special mission for you," Foxe said as he began to scratch on a sheet of Ministry stationery with a self-inking quill.

"Okay," Frank said slowly.

"Acting Director Black is about to lead a contingent of Aurors to Azkaban to take possession of the prisoner Barty Crouch, Jr. I want you to be one of those Aurors," Foxe said, still writing on the stationery.

"Okay."

Foxe did not speak, but focused on writing. Eventually, he finished, signed his name, put away the quill, and folded up the stationery before handing it to Frank. "This is, in effect, a carte blanche. It absolves you of all responsibility for what you are about to do."

"I think you had better explain what you want and give me a good reason for why it is necessary," Frank said, not bothering to mask his suspicion.

Foxe leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers as his eyes bored into Frank's. "I want you to ensure that an unfortunate accident occurs during Director Black's mission to Azkaban."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Her thoughts racing at the speed of panic, Amelia watched Harry and Bellatrix converse briefly in a quiet corner while Amelia's lieutenants organized the usual squad and recruited other Aurors to join. Harry, now Acting Director, would still be expecting her to accompany him to Azkaban. But, would Bellatrix be coming, too? With bated breath, Amelia watched.

Her fears were realized when Harry and Bellatrix's conversation ended. Bellatrix was making for the lift doors. Amelia knew she had to act. Swiftly, she crossed the lobby and overtook Bellatrix. "We need to talk," Amelia said, perhaps too urgently.

Bellatrix turned around and arched an eyebrow. "About what?"

"I know what you're planning," Amelia said.

"What am I planning?" Bellatrix asked, her lips quirking a small smile.

"Before the sun rises, you will have summoned the Wizengamot for an emergency meeting and attempted to have yourself installed as Minister of Magic." Amelia said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But, you don't have enough votes. I've counted."

"You have far fewer," Bellatrix said dispassionately. "In fact, you are not even a plausible candidate."

"How dare you?" Amelia retorted, letting her pride get in the way.

"You do come from a respected pureblood family," Bellatrix admitted offhandedly. "But your career has left you as nothing more than an Auror captain. Nobody really thinks of you as any sort of administrator or public figure. As for votes, I think I can get enough from Crouch's crowd. Foxe has him detained, so he can hardly do anything. An emotional account of Prewitt's last moments coupled with the fact that my husband is even now on the front line of the war will convince sway enough of Crouch's would be supporters to sweep me into office before anybody else can mount a campaign. They won't even have buyer's remorse. My husband and I will end this war quickly and begin rebuilding our world.

Amelia knew that Bellatrix was bluffing about the strength of her momentum. In most cases, Amelia could have taken comfort in that and proceeded to mount a campaign or support another campaign against Bellatrix. But, Amelia knew, or at least strongly suspected, that the Foxes were on Bellatrix's side. With Edward Foxe as Acting Minister, Bellatrix's victory was inevitable. If Bellatrix did not realize that, perhaps Amelia could redirect the momentum to an option both she and Bellatrix could live with.

"I realize that I don't have enough support to make a bid to be Minister," Amelia admitted, trying to sound bold, candid, and as mercenary as Bellatrix, "but I have enough votes to give you an easy and quick victory. If I don't support you immediately, the vote will be delayed. Crouch and Prewitt's former supports will regroup, probably behind Edward or Andrew Foxe. You will still have the supporters you have now, and I will still have my supporters. The people now in power will want to stay in power, so they will vote for the other guy. That makes myself and my allies the swing-vote. Basically, you don't win without me. The question is, do you want to win sooner or later? And let me add, if you wait, I might get a better offer from the other side."

Amelia could feel the anger emanating from Bellatrix, even though the violet-eyed witch was masterfully retaining her composure.

"If my husband doesn't want to work for the Ministry, you can be Director of the DMLE," Bellatrix offered in a terse voice.

"It will cost you more than that," Amelia said.

"Name your price, then," Bellatrix said.

"Two things," Amelia said. "I want it to be your husband who is installed as Minister of Magic, and I would expect to be named his Senior Undersecretary."

Seeing the fury in Bellatrix's eyes, Amelia rushed to explain her reasoning. "Bellatrix, if you were more mature and if we were in the middle of a peaceful time, I think the magical community would prosper under your leadership. But we're at what is hopefully the end of a war. Your husband is an inspirational opposite to You-Know-Who. If we win, he is the one who can set the best post-war tone. I have seen him interact with both our most dedicated Aurors and the Death Eaters we have arrested. If your husband is the one to end the war, it will stay ended. And then, in ten or fifteen years, you can be Minister. I promise that I will vote for you then."

"My husband has no political prowess whatsoever," Bellatrix bit back.

"But you do," Amelia said. "You can protect him while he does what he thinks is best."

"And, how do you expect to be able to vote for me over a decade from now?" Bellatrix demanded. "It will be kind of hard to vote for me if my husband is Minister."

"I think we both know that convincing Harry to become Minister will be hard enough. Convincing him to remain so for more than a couple of years will probably be impossible," Amelia said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

As the lift carried her to the Ministry atrium, Bellatrix let out a scream of anger and pounded one of her fists against the side of the lift. She pounded again and again. The clang of a bell announced that Bellatrix had arrived at the Atrium. As she stalked toward the exit, Bellatrix's rational mind came back online.

Amelia's observations and motivations were probably correct. Bellatrix was still angry, though. She did not like to be defied. The unfairness galled her as well. She was confident that Harry had no desire whatsoever to be Minister. Politics was her dream. And then there was her father, Cygnus Black. As he had unknowingly eulogized himself, Minister Prewitt had emphasized that he had fought this war. But, it was Cygnus Black who had had the guts to start the war. Would it not be appropriate for his own daughter could be the one to end the war? A Minister Black II, as it were?

Harry is a Black, now, a small voice reminded Bellatrix. Your father did not want to be Minister, either. In fact, Harry might well be the actual heir to the legacy of Cygnus Black, Orion Black, and Romulus Malfoy.

Just as Bellatrix reached the Ministry Floo portal, her unconscious mind finally was able to produce Bellatrix's consolation prize—the new plan for Bellatrix to be Minister. As soon as the war ended, she could take strides toward building the Black financial empire, rebuilding Ravenbourgh, and constructing strong ties in the Wizengamot. When Harry stepped down, Bellatrix would be ready.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"This does not make me comfortable," Harry commented as he stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean adjacent to the northern shore of Scotland. In the dark, he thought he could see the menacing form of Azkaban rising up from the ocean.

"That's the point," Amelia said. "Nobody is supposed to be comfortable with approaching Azkaban. Fortunately, we're official Ministry personnel and can pass the defenses without any problems." She waved her wand, and a staircase instantly materialized in the rock of the cliff.

Harry moved to follow, but a couple of Aurors slipped in front of him, forcing him to follow. Since departing the Ministry, Harry had noticed that the Aurors were behaving differently in his presence than they had been during the nights when he had accompanied them on raids. Most notably, they were making it impossible for him to take two steps without some of them taking those same steps first. He had complained to Amelia, but she was unsympathetic. Apparently, it was an inconvenience the Director of Magical Law Enforcement was expected to endure.

Harry and his cohort descended the staircase revealed by Amelia and emerged onto a stone dock that sat in the shadow of the cliff. In short order, Harry and his Aurors were boarding a pair of boats and then floating toward the prison.

~!~!~!~!~!

"I would prefer if I could accompany you upstairs," Professor Dumbledore said to Hermione as they arrived outside Harry and Bellatrix's flat in Manchester.

"I would not mind your company," Hermione said as she surveyed the street. "But, the fact of the matter is that the flat is extensively warded, and you are not keyed in."

Dumbledore looked around, too. "Do you know of these wards for a fact? Or are you going on what Madam Black has told you?"

"I'm going off of what Bellatrix told me," Hermione admitted. "I don't think she'd tell lies about wards, unless she was downplaying them. It will only take me a couple of minutes, Professor. She has the defenses around the horcruxes set to destroy them. The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can meet Bellatrix and the rest at Privet Drive. That's where the real action will be."

"I know," Professor Dumbledore said. "I shall wait out here. Make as much noise as you can if you encounter trouble. I will do my best to come to your aid."

"Okay," Hermione said, leaving the Headmaster and climbing the stairs to the flat and then letting herself in. Within a minute, she had walked through the flat and then up the stairs leading to Bellatrix's so-called laboratory. From the looks of things, it had been a while since Bellatrix had been doing anything up there.

The diadem and the locket hovered over one of the empty laboratory tables, slowly rotating under an unnatural light source, reminding Hermione of a museum at night. Not normally afraid of the dark, Hermione waved her wand and brought light to the room. Satisfied that she was the only person in the room, Hermione commenced the procedure that would trigger Bellatrix's destruction wards but not trigger any of the other wards designed to maim or kill whoever might try to steal the horcruxes.

Casting spells as carefully as she had as a first-year student barely learning wand motions, Hermione attached shield charms to each corner of the table. As they touched the table corners, the charms changed color, indicating that they had connected with Bellatrix's ward scheme.

Taking a deep breath and hoping that Bellatrix's calculations were correct, Hermione cast the spell that no thief in his or her right mind would cast while trying to steal the horcruxes or protect themselves from Bellatrix's ward. "Reducto!"

The table absorbed Hermione's spell and for a second, all was still. Then, a curtain of magic swooped around the table powerfully enough that Hermione felt her skin prickle. As she watched, two bowls appeared on the table below the horcruxes. In them, according to Bellatrix, was basilisk venom. The two horcruxes then plunged into the bowls. Steam and sparks erupted from the bowls as the horcruxes died. Now, there was only Tom on Privet Drive, Barty Crouch, Jr. in Azkaban, and the snake Nagini.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she departed from the Blacks' flat.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

In the dark, Harry's boat docked at Azkaban's harbor. As his self-appointed bodyguards disembarked, Harry listened to the water in the harbor lap quietly at the stone walls and mentally contrasted the sound to the roaring of the ocean around the prison. As dangerous as the ocean sounded, Harry decided he liked its sound better.

Soon, Harry was able to get off the boat. He followed the Aurors who were more familiar with Azkaban up to the looming entrance. The main doors were probably at least three stories tall. Harry wondered why the extravagant architecture was necessary, but quickly dismissed the question from mind as he realized he could potentially be in hostile territory.

"Halt! Who goes there?" called one of the guards near the main doors shouted as soon as they came within hearing distance.

"Captain Bones, Captain Longbottom, and a large squad of Aurors escorting the newly appointed Acting Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Ashworth Black," Amelia yelled loudly.

The guards at the doors were silent for a few moments. "What is the nature of Director Black's business?" the guard shouted back.

"Official, confidential, and formally sanctioned," Amelia called back. "Now let us in before your new boss gets annoyed."

"You may approach," the guard called.

"Couldn't they have just asked us this when we get closer?" Harry said as he and the Aurors approached the doors.

"It would be too late if we're hostile," Amelia said.

"And how do they even know that I'm legit?" Harry continued, wondering about Azkaban's security procedures.

"They have all sorts of dark magic and dishonest testers. Your Ministry position is news to them, but the detectors will have confirmed that I'm telling the truth," Amelia explained.

Harry thought it all sounded kind of old-fashioned, but he supposed the system had been working for long enough. They approached the doors and watched as the guards went through a laborious process to unlock the doors from both the inside and outside and then open them.

Shivering at the thought of being so close to Dementors, Harry stepped into the prison and loosened his wands in their holsters. The guards shut the doors, and those that had been stationed on the inside escorted Harry, Amelia, Frank, and some of the Aurors to the warden's office.

The warden's annoyance at being awoken was offset by his eagerness to rub shoulders with not only the new Director of the DMLE, but Harry himself. Apparently, Harry's fame as the Ghost of Ashworth had found its way to Azkaban's bonnie shores via new prisoners and the occasional Auror.

"Yeah, we have Crouch locked up on the top floor," Warden McGayle declared once pleasantries had concluded and Harry had stated his business. "It's the highest security, of course. The higher the floor, the more Dementors we have on it. The guards sleep on the bottom floor during their week-long shifts."

"The top floor?" Amelia questioned. "That seems odd. He wasn't convicted for nearly as many crimes as the other prisoners up there."

"Direct orders from Crouch, Sr.," McGayle explained. "I guess he was pretty angry at his son."

"Let us hope it was anger," Harry said, remembering Crouch's odd behavior less than an hour previous. "Please be so kind as to have your guards fetch Crouch from the top floor. We'll take him and be on our way."

"Just where are you planning on taking him?" McGayle asked.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said vaguely.

The warden looked at Amelia and then to Frank before focusing back on Harry. "I don't want to defy you, Director, but I can't sanction you taking prisoners out and making them conveniently disappear."

Harry sighed. "Look, Warden, this isn't some sort of secret execution squad. This is us removing a prisoner from the influence of the Dementors because we believe he has undergone some dangerous magical transformations. I'm taking him to a heavily guarded Ministry holding cell. Now send your Aurors for him so we can be on our way."

"All right, sir," the warden said, suspicion still in his voice. He gave the command, and the group waited for Crouch to be brought down to the office.

About twenty minutes passed before the Aurors returned, empty-handed.

"Where is he?" McGayle demanded.

"The Dementors won't allow us onto the top level," the ranking guard present announced.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Every Muggle that lives on this street is probably staring at us," Alastor Moody groused as he yawned and glared suspiciously at the dark houses on Privet Drive.

"No, just Aunt Petunia," Rose said as she made a rude gesture in the general direction of the Dursley house. "The rest are all asleep."

"Rose!" Lily exclaimed as she surveyed the group. Everybody present was tired and a little grouchy, but when Bellatrix had sent her house elf to summon them to a horcrux destruction mission, not one had hesitated to volunteer their services. All of the Potters except John had come. Sirius and his son, Leo, were there, as was Alastor Moody. Now, they were just waiting for Bellatrix, Professor Dumbledore, and Hermione.

Moody's wand was already out. "I say we stun and obliviate her."

"Alastor," Lily said, "whether we were here or not is irrelevant. And, I'm not even sure Petunia is watching us. Rose is merely commenting on my sister's propensity for snooping on her neighbors. I'm sure she's in bed, too."

The debate was interrupted when Bellatrix appeared next to them with a faint pop.

"Where have you been?" James Potter demanded.

"Here and there," Bellatrix replied. "Mostly there, though."

"You're hilarious," Sirius Black said. Nobody could tell whether he was doing deadpan humor or was just completely un-amused. His emotions had become difficult to read since his wife's death.

"What does it matter?" Bellatrix asked. "Do any of you really want to proceed without Dumbledore being present?"

"She's right," Rose observed.

"We can at least go into the house," Lily suggested.

Bellatrix motioned for them to follow, and the group silently made their way across the street and up to the front door of #2 Privet Drive. Bellatrix let them in, and the group gathered in the living room.

Sidra reached for a light switch, but was stopped by Moody. "No lights!"

"Erect barriers at the windows if it bothers you," Sidra said snippily. For all her defiance, though, she waited until Moody had cast charms on the windows before actually flipping the switch.

In the lighted room, Bellatrix was examining the surroundings. "You are going to have to remind Draco to clean house more often," Bellatrix said to Sidra.

"I'm not his babysitter!" Sidra whined.

"You are whatever I ask you to do," Bellatrix said blithely. "I want you to spend at least a couple of hours a week nagging Draco to clean the house or do something to improve whatever businesses he has going on. You are going to be his surrogate aunt. And, right now, I also would like you to go upstairs and cast a stunner on him so that he's none the wise we were ever here."

Sidra was not pleased, but she was not about to defy her boss. Muttering angrily, she drew her wand and crept up the stairs to where Draco's bedroom was located.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Hermione and Professor Dumbledore. James opened the door to admit the two latecomers.

"Were the other horcruxes destroyed smoothly?" Alastor asked as soon as Professor Dumbledore entered the room.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "There was no difficulty. We can now focus on this horcrux. Perhaps, Madam Black, you could give us more details." He said this last sentence loudly, so that Bellatrix, who had left the room, could hear.

"Why do you need details?" Bellatrix asked, returning from an inspection of some of the other rooms of the house. "Suffice it to say I activated the horcrux for certain purposes. Because of that, I think it is safer to have more than a few people on hand to destroy it. A simple Killing Curse will do, I think."

"I think it would be better if you were a little more upfront with us," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you should explain how it is that Draco came to live here and how Peter Pettigrew has completely disappeared."

Bellatrix shrugged evasively. "Peter Pettigrew was an idiot. The Dark Lord's enemies have benefitted. As for Draco, my family matters are none of your business."

"So you did not force Mr. Pettigrew to do anything?" Dumbledore inquired, looking over his half-moon spectacles into Bellatrix's face.

"What does Peter have to do with this?" James asked sharply.

"Madam Black?" Dumbledore asked. "You did not force Peter to do anything."

"He did nothing against his will," Bellatrix said, mentally splitting hairs.

"What do you two know that we don't?" James demanded again.

Dumbledore looked away from Bellatrix and toward James and Sirius. "As part of the search for horcruxes, Bellatrix activated one of the horcruxes. But to do that, she needed somebody to sacrifice themselves."

Lily gasped.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

"That person was Peter Pettigrew. I suspect he had already done part of the process before Bellatrix came across him. I imagine that he chose to finish the process in an attempt to escape from Bellatrix, and perhaps Harry. So, the being we are going to kill tonight is only half Peter."

"The idiot is totally gone. He's all Tom, now," Bellatrix said.

Lily was looking at Bellatrix, her eyes narrowed.

"Sounds fair to me," James said, apparently not begrudging Bellatrix whatever she had done to Peter. "I'd like to volunteer to do the honors, even if Peter is completely gone. He betrayed us and put my children at risk."

Sirius drew his wand. "I'll help."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will escort you. Alastor? Perhaps you would help us. Madam Black, if you would explain the wards on the cell, we can take care of this for you. And then, someday, I would appreciate it if you gave me more information about how 'Tom' came to be."

"You can buy my memoir from Flourish and Blotts like everybody else shall," Bellatrix said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Sound the alarm!" Warden McGayle commanded.

"Wait," Harry said. "Are you sure you want to inform all your prisoners that there is trouble?"

"It isn't as if the prisoners can riot," the warden said. "We have specific procedures for a Dementor uprising."

"Then follow your procedures, and we will alter them as we later find necessary," Harry directed.

The warden nodded to the guard that had brought the bad news. He left the room, the warden following closely behind, and within a few seconds, a deep horn sound echoed loudly through the walls of the prison.

"What are these procedures?" Harry asked loudly, looking around at his own people to see if any of them knew.

"Each prison level is accessed via the stairwell inside one of the thicker walls of the prison," Amelia explained succinctly. "There are multiple gates between the stairs and each level. Any guards on the prison levels will retreat to the stairwell and shut the gates, locking the Dementors in. If there are no guards on the floor, the gates shut automatically. The same happens if the guards are killed and no guards are thus left on the floor. If the Dementors are already past the gates when they shut, the guards will be able send Patroni through the stairwell and force those Dementors into the tower above the staircase."

"What about the prisoners?" Harry demanded.

"They're locked in their cells," Amelia explained. The Dementors cannot open gates or cell doors. They have no keys, and the gates and doors are warded against them. They'll be trapped on the floors."

"Basically," Frank Longbottom declared, "now that the alarm is sounding, it will only take two or three minutes to contain the Dementors. Your problem, now, is getting onto that top floor."

"It may be better to come back when the Dementors have calmed down," Amelia speculated.

Harry shook his head as he paced back and forth. Finally, he stopped and looked at those who had come into the office with him. "Send to the Ministry for as many Auror reinforcements as can be spared without leaving the Ministry itself vulnerable. I want them stationed all together at the part of the shore closest to the prison. Tell them to bring brooms, too."

"Are you expecting a battle?" Frank asked, clearly aghast.

"Yes," Harry said. "We've been forced to move too slowly. The Dark Lord's spies will have reported of our expedition. Not only will he be willing to sacrifice much to protect Crouch, but he will see the advantage of breaking out the most dangerous of Azkaban's prisoners and taking some of the Dementors with him."

"You forget that Azkaban is a fortress!" Frank retorted. "I think you're overestimating the Dark Lord. Just how do you think he's going to achieve all of what you just said?"

"Simple," Harry said. "He and his Death Eaters will fly in and blow off the prison's roof. Hence, I want Auror reinforcements stationed together on shore to harass the Dark Lord's forces as they arrive and try to siege the roof. Meanwhile, we shall be fetching Crouch and moving all the other prisoners off that top floor as fast as we can. Hopefully, we can contain the Dementors, too. If the Death Eaters show up, we fight and get Crouch out of here and to a Ministry holding cell.

"How are you so sure this is what is going to happen?" Amelia asked.

That's how he did it in the Lost War when he went after Azkaban, Harry thought to himself. But, he was not prepared to explain that to anybody. "It doesn't matter how I know. I gave orders. Now follow them!" Harry said sternly.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Rose Potter stood on the front lawn of #2 Privet Drive as everybody slowly filed out onto the driveway and prepared to depart. Rose had assumed that they would all go home after the horcrux destruction festivities, but Moody and Dumbledore had been asking Bellatrix several questions about the abrupt change of power in the Ministry hierarchy and about Harry's mission to Azkaban. It sounded as if they wanted to be at the Ministry when Harry and the Aurors brought Crouch there. And then, Bellatrix had been making ominous hints that something big was going to happen within the next few hours and that the Order might want to gather. Rose knew her mother well enough to know that she would want to be in on all this action.

The final points of discussion between Bellatrix, Rose's parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Moody had concluded, and everybody was preparing to apparate away when they were interrupted.

"You!" Petunia Dursley shrieked, suddenly coming into view from the darkness surrounding #4 Privet Drive.

"Obviously, it is I," Lily said crossly. "We were minding our own business, so why don't you buzz off?"

"No!" Petunia said, "not you. Her!" She was pointing at Bellatrix.

Everybody stared at Bellatrix. Despite the group's focus on her, Bellatrix seemed oblivious to the attention of everybody else as she glared balefully at Petunia. Then, quite deliberately, Bellatrix dragged her thumb across her neck before suddenly disappearing with a loud pop.

"What was that?" Lily demanded.

"Nothing," Petunia said, now looking very scared. "I'll just go home now."

"No, you tell me!" Lily said, stalking up to her sister and grabbing her by the arm. "How do you know her?"

"I was mistaken," Petunia said lamely.

"I saw her threaten you," Lily said. "You've both seen each other before. I promise, she can't touch you, even if she wants to."

It took a great deal more persuading on Lily's part as the Order members present looked on, but Petunia finally felt safe enough to give expression to her vindictiveness. "Right before last Christmas," Petunia said. "She is the witch who broke into my house and stuffed the sports section into Vernon's mouth."

"What?" Lily exclaimed. "Her? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Petunia said. "It was her. She busted in, stole some box of gold that had been hidden in the fireplace, and then left."

"Why would she have gold in your house?" James asked, sounding very confused.

"It would explain why she ending up buying the house next door," Rose said offhandedly as her mind raced to find the explanation for Bellatrix's strange interaction with the Dursleys.

"I get that, now," Lily said. "But why the connection in the first place? Why would Bellatrix hide gold in my Muggle sister's house?"

"I thought you would already understand," Petunia said.

"Err, no," Lily said. "Why would I know about that witch's unhealthy fascination with you?"

"Before leaving the house with the gold, she said that in a roundabout way, I was her aunt," Petunia said.

"That's absurd," Lily said slowly. "She's pretty much an inbred member of the Black family. There is no possible way that she could be related to us."

"Bellatrix could be an in-law," Rose suggested, her logical mind allowing her to plow past the improbabilities of the situation.

"What?" Lily said, turning and staring at Rose.

"I think it is time we ask Harry more about his future," Rose said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

The Azkaban guards did not have a pre-planned policy for removing the Dementors from a floor entirely because the strategy of the standard plans relied on the floors themselves as being the holding places for Dementors during an uprising. However, there were enough guards, Aurors, and Patroni to make it possible for a contingent of Aurors and guards led by Harry to go to the top of the staircase, open the top floor's gates, run to the far wall with the Patroni escorting them, and then turn around and drive the Dementors into the stairwell. Harry had stationed the other contingent of Aurors and guards on the stairwell just below the top floor. When the Dementors fled the top floor, they used more Patroni to drive those Dementors into the tower above the stairwell. The process had been safe, but exhausting.

Harry was still leaning against the far wall of the top floor catching his breath when Amelia came to him with a chunk of chocolate. "Looks like you need this," she said.

"Thanks," Harry said, not even bothering to argue. Eagerly, he bit into the chocolate and closed his eyes as it melted in his mouth and replaced the strength the Dementors had taken from him via only minimal contact.

Frank Longbottom walked up. "Everything is locked down and safe," he announced. "The Warden will have a jolly time getting things back to normal, but we should be safe to get Crouch and leave."

"Good," Harry said, suddenly becoming aware of faint laughter coming from one of the cells. "I am guessing our boy is locked up in that one."

Both Amelia and Frank looked at Harry quizzically.

Harry wondered why neither of them were volunteering to fetch him out. "Well, let's get him and go home," Harry said.

"Right," Frank said slowly.

Suddenly, an explosive thud shook the prison to its foundations. Harry looked up at the ceiling, where the sound had originated. "Not good," he said.

"You were right," Amelia gasped as another thunderous explosion crashed into the roof.

"I hope our reinforcements are here," Harry sighed.

"Guards!" Frank yelled. "Open the cell doors and hit every prisoner with a bludgeoning charm. I don't want them waking up without medical attention."

"Do it!" Harry yelled, ratifying Frank's orders.

"I'll get Crouch," Frank said already moving toward the cell.

"All right," Harry said. "Amelia, organize the Aurors to cover our retreat. We'll try to get off this floor as soon as we can. Once we're deeper in the prison we can assess whether to hold our position or make a run for it back to shore—unless we can bring down the wards."

"They'll have wards keeping us in," Amelia said shortly as she dashed away to take command of the Aurors.

Harry decided to help Frank. He jogged over to the cell just in time to watch Frank open it. Inside, Barty Crouch, Jr., sat, grinning like a maniac.

"Bravo, Lord Black," Barty said. "I wondered how long it would be until you realized your mistake. However, it is too late for you to do anything. It became too late the minute you arrested me."

"What is he talking about?" Frank asked.

"It's simple," Barty said. "If you had left me in Azkaban, Lord Voldemort would have won eventually. But now that you have come to remove me, Lord Voldemort will win sooner. There is no good outcome for you."

"I can't say I was ever impressed with your logic," Harry said. "I don't see how you find serving the Dark Lord more fulfilling than being an honored Auror."

Barty snarled. "You'll never understand."

"I think I understand more than you realize," Harry said. He looked to Frank. "Secure him, and let's get going."

Harry turned his attention to the guards who were assaulting the prisoners and the Aurors who were preparing for the roof of the fortress to be breached. "Guards," Harry yelled, "each of you take a prisoner hostage and begin your retreat to the lower floors of the prison. Aurors, hold as long as possible or until the guards and prisoners are clear. Then retreat and block access to the stairwell."

A particularly loud explosion thudded against the roof, shaking even the floor, and a large portion of the roof caved in. Behind Harry there was a muffled shout and then a flash of green light. Harry spun around, wand at the ready, to discover Frank Longbottom standing over Crouch's dead body.

"What happened?" Harry demanded.

"It was the explosion and shaking ground," Frank said quickly. "He lunged at me, and I thought he was going to get my wand. My reflexes kicked in, and I shot the killing curse at him. Normally I would have just shot a stunner or something, but we're in the middle of a battle here."

Harry frowned, the expression on his face depicting suspicion.

"I'm sorry, Director." Frank said. "It was an accident."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

The instant Alastor Moody apparated into the Ministry, he could tell that something was amiss. "We need to get upstairs!" he yelled to the other Order members who had also appeared.

The Potters and Blacks were breathlessly trying to draw conclusions about Harry relation to Petunia Dursley, but they followed. Moody, who could not care less about Harry's origin, rushed to a lift, and not bothering to hold it for anybody else, punched the button for the DMLE's floor. He arrived in the lobby to find Aurors rushing everywhere.

"What's going on?" he demanded as he grabbed the first person he recognized.

"The Dementors are revolting, and they think You-Know-Who is going to attack Azkaban," the middle-aged witch told Moody urgently. "Director Black has ordered reinforcements be sent to the shore off Azkaban."

Moody spun around to see the Potters, Blacks, and Dumbledore emerge from the lift. "It looks like there is going to be a battle at Azkaban," he said curtly. "I'm going."

"I will gather Order members," Dumbledore said, already walking toward a fireplace from where he could send Floo messages.

"No doubt there are already orders for us to go as well," James sighed as he and Sirius made their way deeper into the department offices and left Lily with her two daughters and Sirius's son.

Not wasting another second, Moody filched some Auror-issue equipment and used a Ministry portkey to travel to the shore of Azkaban. Explosions were echoing in the air and light was flashing as he appeared about thirty yards away from a group of Aurors stationed on the shoreline. He rushed over to find that Kingsley Shacklebolt was in command.

"What's our status?" Moody asked.

"Death Eaters are trying to breach the roof of the prison," Shacklebolt said, sounding calm despite the chaos around him. "We're giving them plenty of trouble. As soon as I get enough forces, we'll take to the air and engage the attackers directly."

"What about Director Black?" Moody demanded.

"We don't know. He hasn't communicated to us since sending for us." Kingsley answered. "He might not even realize we are here."

"I'll see to that," Moody muttered, casting a Patronus.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry was not satisfied with Frank Longbottom's explanation, but now was not the time to quibble. "Get his body. We're taking it with us," Harry said, turning to supervise the situation. Having a second thought, he turned around. "We're taking it with us, but if anything happens to prevent us from making it back safely, it is your job to ensure that the body is destroyed with Fiendfyre. Do you understand?"

"As you command," Frank said agreeably.

Harry spun around again and observed that the guards had removed the prisoners from the floor. "Aurors, retreat!" Harry yelled, trying to be heard over the explosions. Not only were the attackers firing barrages against the quickly failing roof, there seemed to be additional explosions in the air outside. Perhaps reinforcements had arrived.

"We don't retreat until you do," Amelia said, coming to Harry's side.

"I'm on my way out," Harry said curtly, striding to the stairwell and making his way down. He rushed as quickly as he could to the ground floor where he found the prison guards with their hostage-prisoners from the top floor. "Find a room, lock them in, and conceal the entrance," Harry directed. Warden McGayle was standing there, looking surprised. "Help them," Harry directed.

Harry was trying to think of what the next step should be when a familiar Patronus burst into the prison through one of the narrow slits near the front. With it came Moody's voice. "Harry! At my next sending we will have enough reinforcements to cover your retreat from the island. Signal us when you are ready. We'll cover you from the air, but be prepared to return spellfire."

It seemed like a good enough plan to Harry.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Come on, Mom, everybody else is going," Rose wheedled. "You let me come to the Ministry battle."

"You had a vision guaranteeing your safety," Lily said curtly. "And, I don't want to put Leo in danger without Sirius knowing."

"We'll have a portkey and can leave at the first sign that things are getting too dangerous, Mrs. Potter," Leo said.

Lily pursed her lips. "All right, but you both hang onto the portkey at all time, and Leo is the one who decides when to activate it."

"Deal," Rose said, even though she looked slightly annoyed by the conditions.

Sidra smirked, inwardly congratulating herself on being old enough to go into the battle without begging permission. While Lily was occupied with ensuring that Rose and Leo would be safe, Sidra went to grab one of the Portkeys provided by the DMLE for volunteer fighters. Halfway there, she was intercepted when somebody grabbed her arm and dragged her into a private room. It was Bellatrix.

"Well, well, if it isn't cousin Bellatrix," Sidra smirked.

"Is that what she told you?" Bellatrix asked.

"Is there something you'd like to tell us about Harry?" Sidra asked smugly.

"I have nothing to say," Bellatrix said shortly. "Except that you are not going to the battle."

"What?" Sidra exclaimed.

"I've got work for you," Bellatrix said, producing two folded parchments from her sleeve. She held up one of the parchments. "This is a list of certain Wizengamot members." She held up the other parchment. "This is a letter I want duplicated and sent to each of them. When they receive this letter, they will come to the Wizengamot wing. I want you to put them in a room and keep them there until I need them."

"I can't just lock a bunch of people in a room!" Sidra retorted.

"Well, you will," Bellatrix said. "Perhaps you can recruit some of your friends—for instance, the ones who will not be allowed to the battle."

"And what are you going to do?" Sidra asked.

"Go to the battle," Bellatrix said. "I'll let you know how it goes."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

After considerable debate, Harry, Amelia, and Frank agreed that they would have to be satisfied with packing everybody into the two boats they had brought to the island with them and a third boat that had already been at the island. Opening the prison doors proved to be a laborious task, but somehow, it was achieved without the Death Eaters flying in the air above noticing. Using all sorts of concealment charms, the large group ran to the dock, boarded the boats and cast off.

"Who here has a really small Patronus?" Harry asked.

One of the guards admitted to having a guinea pig for a Patronus.

"Great," Harry said. "You're sending a signal to let the Aurors on shore know we're coming." Briefly, he explained the procedure, and concluded by asking the guard to try his best to direct the Patronus to move under the water until it was a considerable distance away from the prison.

The guard cast the patronus, and in seconds, it was on its way. Even if one of the Death Eaters above had been looking for it, they easily could have missed it. Two minutes later, the spellfire coming from shore intensified, and Aurors were suddenly flying over heard and targeting Death Eaters.

"Get these things moving faster!" Harry commanded.

The boats were soon moving fast enough to skip over the water. Satisfied, Harry looked back and watched as the reinforcement Aurors completely overpowered the Death Eaters attacking the prison. With satisfaction, Harry observed that many of the Death Eaters were already retreating. They had been expecting only a standard prisoner transport escort and the Azkaban guards, or maybe a few more Aurors if there was a spy in the Ministry. But, they had not expected a show of such force from the Ministry so quickly.

Harry was feeling rather pleased with how a nearly disastrous situation had righted itself when he watched with horror as one of the remaining Death Eaters targeted the tower that sat over the prison's stairwell. The explosion did not destroy the tower, but it breached it enough to set free the Dementors locked in.

Harry gritted his teeth as he saw the swarm of rebel Dementors head for the Aurors. He held up his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Merlin's beard!" Moody shouted as an explosion of white light erupted from the water near the shore and rushed toward Azkaban and the Dementors that had just swarmed out of the breached tower.

The Aurors on shore gaped as the white light pulsated and drove the Dementors back toward Azkaban. When their eyes adjusted to the spell light, they were able to make out the form of a stag galloping across the water.

"Increase spellfire, laggards!" Moody yelled, hoping that the Aurors would be intimidated enough to take orders from him.

"The Death Eaters have retreated, I think," came Dumbledore's voice.

"Better safe than sorry," Moody said, allowing himself to be distracted. "Did you see that Patronus?"

"Yes," Dumbledore commented, "it was quite powerful. This confirms that Mr. Black is indeed a wizard with which to be reckoned."

"Was that Harry Black's Patronus?" James Potter asked as he approached the group with Sirius in tow. Both he and Sirius had a strange look on their faces.

"Yes, sir!" Moody said triumphantly. "Now if only we can convince whoever becomes Minister to keep Director Black in place. With him in charge, the Death Eaters will surrender and You-Know-Who will drop dead!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I don't know that Harry will be the Director for long, Alastor. But I think you will be satisfied with the results, anyway."

James and Sirius did not respond, but disappeared in the crowd.

The boats had docked below the cliff and the Aurors and guards were making their way up. Last up was Harry and Frank Longbottom. Longbottom was levitating Crouch's dead body. When he was a few feet away from the edge, he allowed the body to drop.

Meanwhile, ranking Aurors surrounded Harry to give reports on the situation.

"I know, I know, I was here," Harry said, motioning for them to back away. He stepped to the edge of the cliff and squinted at Azkaban. His Patronus could still be seen hovering near the breached hole in Azkaban's tower. Apparently, it has driven the Dementors back into the prison.

"I need an Auror Lieutenant and a couple of volunteers who can cast Patroni," Harry called. Several people stepped forward, and Harry picked out a pair of witches and a wizard. "I think you can probably use your Patroni to keep the Dementors in Azkaban. You might have to spread out a bit and use three Patroni. I don't think the Dementors can travel very far over water. Maybe if I keep my Patronus up until yours are in place, you can prevent them from getting out of there entirely."

"We might need more than that," Amelia interjected. "The Death Eaters could come back and try to spring the Dementors."

"That would be regrettable," Harry said, turning to focus on the prison. "Yes, we'll have to come up with a more long term solution."

Moody and Dumbledore stood apart from the Aurors and Harry, observing.

"He seems to fit into this battlefield leadership role pretty easily," Dumbledore said. "Not too controlling, not too weak."

"Probably experience from the alternate future," Moody said. "I don't know how he's about to handle the Potters and Blacks, though."

Dumbledore smiled as he watched Lily, James, and Rose Potter make their way through the crowd to Harry. Bellatrix was also coming toward Harry from another direction. "Maybe Madam Black can get him out of here before the Potters can launch that discussion."

"She can try, but Lily is awfully persistent," Moody said, grinning sardonically.

A small cry sounded in the crowd, and then someone shouted. Startled, Moody watched as the once dead Barty Crouch, Jr., leapt up from the ground, holding a wand that he had apparently stolen from an unsuspecting Auror. Grinning triumphantly, he pointed the wand at Harry and screamed. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry turned around just in time to collide with the flash of green light head-on. The force of it propelled him into the air and off the cliff. With horror, Moody watched as Harry Ashworth Black died and his body plunged toward the ocean below.

On the next Delenda Est . . . . The Potters egg Bellatrix's house after they discover she bought Harry's coffin from Costco, Draco launches a neighborhood lemonade cartel, and Harry has a reunion with certain characters that died in earlier chapters.

45. The Sun Rises on Minister Black II

A/N: Thank you for your reviews—even the ones with cussing in them. Also, many thanks to those who zealously took care of the goober who tried to plagiarize Earl of the North but forgot to delete my name from the second and third chapters . . .

Chapter 44: The Sun Rises on Minister Black II

Lord Silvere

Harry did not even have enough time to be startled. Green light from the killing curse consumed him, and when the light faded, he found himself part of an eerily familiar scene. He was sitting at the end of a long table in a large rectangular room. Delicate-looking windows lined one of the longer walls of the room, and outside of the windows, Harry could see white fog swirling slowly. Frowning, Harry wondered why dying would bring him to a past incarnation of Malfoy Manor.

A few moments went by as Harry tried to understand. Eventually, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sarcastically slow applause. Harry twisted around to look behind his chair and discovered the identity of his fan. It was Romulus Malfoy.

He grinned at Harry and then let out a little chuckle. "I thought my death was dramatic, but taking a killing curse and then falling off a cliff is pretty impressive."

Harry stared at his old acquaintance and realized for the first time how much he had missed his conversations and meetings with the pureblood patriarchs. "So, I'm dead, then?" Harry asked slowly.

"Not quite," came the voice of Orion Black.

Harry turned and found the Black patriarch standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he faced out of one of the windows and seemed to ponder life. Harry wondered if Bellatrix's father would appear, and suddenly, Cygnus Black was sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the table, the same chair he had sat in immediately prior to his assassination.

Harry was not sure what to say by way of greeting, but he did have questions and opted to press on with those. "How could I not be dead?" he asked.

Romulus came around to where Harry could see him without having to look around the back of the chair. "It seems that the Lord Voldemort of your original future left a horcrux implanted in your scar, Harry. Tonight, that horcrux died. We won't stop you from passing onto the next life, but we're here to tell you that you are perfectly welcome to stay among the living until death comes to you again."

"So you know about my time travelling, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Orion said, sounding a little bit disapproving. "We know . . . everything."

"Oh," Harry said, not sure how he felt about that.

"There are some things you could have done better," Orion said.

"But we realize that you were . . . are young. Nobody is perfect, Harry," Cygnus said, rushing to reassure Harry before his older brother could get too stern. "You've done so much. We know about the alternate future. You've made a better future."

"I suppose you are right," Harry mused. "Perhaps it would have been better to tell more people about my time travel, or perhaps I should have moved to do certain things sooner."

"What might have been is not something that even we can see," Romulus said, leaning against one of the chairs as he looked at Harry happily. "But I can tell you that no matter how well your moves could have been, there are simply some things that Fate would not have allowed you to change."

"That seems rather cruel of . . . Fate," Harry said, not understanding to what or whom the word referred.

"Fate helped you," Orion said. "It reshuffled the deck and gave you some good playing cards to use in our time. Of course, you would not have been able to realize that you were benefitting from a slightly different timeline. You did not know your history of our world very well."

"I suppose I cannot hold much of a grudge against Fate," Harry acknowledged.

"The means justifies the end," Orion said, "but I suspect you already know that."

"In some ways, you are so far ahead of where we were when we died," Cygnus said, sounding sad. "You're a good wizard, Harry. One of the best."

Harry felt heat in his ears as the patriarchs regarded him silently. "What now?" he asked.

"We will make our final requests of you and then wish you farewell until you join us," Romulus said.

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll do what I can. I probably owe you that."

"I don't think you really owe us anything," Romulus said. "But, we will ask anyway. If you do what we ask, I think you will find yourself in happy circumstances."

"Well then, request away," Harry said.

Orion finally turned away from the window. "The House of Black has been one of the pillars of the magical community for centuries," he said. "It shames me that you found the House in such disarray. Please allow Bellatrix to help restore it. Let her rebuild Ravenbourgh. Let her find ways to replenish its coffers so that you can be generous to those in need. But that will not be enough. For there to be greatness, there must be goodness. I depend on you to ensure that there is goodness in the House of Black."

"Of course," Harry said. He had already let Bellatrix know that he did not mind if she rebuilt Ravenbourgh. And, he could help build the Black name. There was one thing that concerned him, though. "Orion, I realize that my inheriting the title of Lord Black was legitimate in my future, but now, your son lives. I feel like I am an usurper. What would you have me do?"

"Show my son every courtesy and accord him every privilege you feel is wise," Orion said.

"And what about when I die? Who becomes Lord Black?" Harry asked.

Orion smiled. "Fate has already seen to that. Bellatrix will give birth to only daughters. Leo's son will inherit the title. Treat Sirius, Leo, and their families as your own."

"I will," Harry said.

"Thank you," Orion said. The window next to him opened, and Orion faded away as if the swirling fog outside had reached in and consumed him.

Harry blinked and then looked to confirm that Romulus and Cygnus were still with him. They were.

"I guess I am next," Cygnus said, drawing Harry's focus to him. "Harry, I want you to understand that Bellatrix is not entirely normal in the head. She has always been . . . cold. Her mother only made the situation worse. As your alternate future suggests, she has a predisposition toward insanity. Somehow, you have found your way into her heart. You are her most valued possession. Please continue to take care of her. Show her love and help her find constructive ways to exercise her ambition. If you do that, you can always rely on her to defend your interests ardently, and you can rest assured that her mind will retain its strength."

This was sobering to Harry. "I will do my best."

"Tell Bella that I am proud of her," Cygnus said, smiling as he faded away.

The room silent as Harry looked at the place where Cygnus had been sitting and pondered what his father-in-law had said.

"Now for me," Romulus said, walking over, drawing out the chair next to Harry, and sitting in it. "As you can see," he said, gesturing around the room and drawing Harry's attention to the fact that the fog was now coming in through the windows and consuming the room, "our time grows short."

Harry sighed regretfully. He would have liked to spend more time with Romulus. "I suppose you want me to restore the Malfoy fortune to your grandson."

"I think he will be better off without it," Romulus said. "Your wife has already set him on a better path. No, what I want is for you to set the magical world on a better path. If you end this war right, you can prevent the next such war for a long time."

"Obviously, I need to make sure Voldemort is dead for sure," Harry said slowly.

"Voldemort is only a symptom, Harry. You must cure the illness, too. You have to make sure that creatures like werewolves and giants are welcome and cared for, for they will always be among you. If they are not your friends, they are your enemy's friends. And, you've got to reassure the purebloods that they have nothing to fear from the Muggleborns," Romulus explained.

"I think I get the picture," Harry said. "I'm not sure how to go about doing that."

Romulus grinned. "Within the next few hours, your wife is going to have you installed as Minister of Magic."

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

"Try to act pleasantly surprised when she tells you," Romulus said. "And be grateful. She will be bitter if you spurn this. Very, very bitter."

"I can't be Minister!" Harry exclaimed. "I hardly know anything. It isn't a very fun job, either."

"The bureaucrats will take care of the minor details. Set policies that will go toward healing the magical world and have your underlings carry them out."

"And somehow I'm supposed to think up these policies?" Harry asked.

"You should probably consult with people—particularly those whose suffering you're trying to alleviate. Or even some of the older members of our society who have gained wisdom," Romulus suggested. "And, Harry, you don't have to be Minister forever. Just a few years or until you find someone who will be faithful to your legacy."

"Even after Voldemort dies, the war continues," Harry grumbled.

"You'd be bored to tears if there wasn't some war going on," Romulus laughed.

Harry squinted. The fog in the room was so thick that he could barely see Romulus. "Will I see you again?"

"Of course," Romulus said. "But only after you've lived a long and happy life."

"Is this what dying will be like? Will you be there to lead me to where you go after?" Harry asked, suddenly curious.

Harry could no longer see Romulus, but he could hear his voice. "Harry, when you die, Bellatrix will come for you. Unless she goes to hell." A dry chuckle echoed through the fog, slowly fading.

Eventually, there was silence and the fog had thickened to the point where Harry felt wet—very wet. The chair was gone. Harry was lying on his back. He was cold, too. Involuntarily, he convulsed. From somewhere above him, he heard a startled gasp. Feeling like he was waking up from the deepest sleep he had ever experienced, Harry forced his eyes open and discovered that he was lying on the ground next to the dock at the bottom of the cliff. A very small crowd stood a ways away near the cliff's staircase. Bellatrix was sitting on the ground next to him. He looked up into her face and saw that it was wet with tears.

"Bella," Harry croaked.

Bellatrix was startled. "H-how did you not die?" she demanded, staring at Harry, her violet eyes wide and suspicious.

"Apparently I was a horcrux from the Lost War," Harry said.

Harry had expected her to demand more details, but instead, she fell on him and began kissing him unrestrainedly. Harry found that he had very little strength, but he managed to bring his arms up and wrap them around her as her fervor continued undiminished for several moments. Eventually, she was content to lie atop of Harry in his embrace.

"Merlin's beard!" came the voice of one of the Weasley twins. "She snogging that corpse!"

Harry felt Bellatrix stiffen.

Before Bellatrix could react, though, Rose Potter's voice interceded. "If you had paid attention, you would have noticed that Harry suddenly came back to life. And, even if she had been snogging a dead body, it would be very rude to call attention to it!"

"Well, it wouldn't be very humorous to point it out if Harry was actually dead, would it?" one of the twins retorted. "Thus, the fact that we pointed it out is proof that we knew that Harry was alive."

Bellatrix sighed and pushed up from Harry. "Rose, go up and tell everybody that Harry is alive. Try to explain that Crouch's former horcrux status rendered his magic less potent or something like that. If they have not already killed Crouch, tell the Aurors to haul him to the Ministry. We might need him later. Also tell them that Harry says that the Auror Corps needs to regroup at the Ministry, call in and deputize every able Ministry employee, and prepare for battle."

"Are you going to tell me the real story later?" Rose asked.

"If you insist," Bellatrix growled. "Harry and I will be up shortly. Now take the peanut gallery and get out of here." She then fell back on Harry and gave him a long kiss.

Despite being cold, wet, and curious about why Bellatrix had borrowed his authority to marshal troops, Harry let himself enjoy the moment. He was grateful to be alive, grateful to be married to Bellatrix, and grateful to know that peace might be imminent.

Ultimately, it was Bellatrix who opted to adjourn the proceedings after several enjoyable minutes. "We need to get back to the Ministry," Bellatrix said. "I've set certain things in motion. We can defeat the Dark Lord before the sun sets again."

"That would be nice," Harry said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

There were few people remaining at the top of the cliff by the time Bellatrix had dried Harry off and hauled him up to meet his future. Alastor Moody had remained and insisted upon certifying Harry's identity through several spells and tricky questions. Moody finally left for the Ministry when Harry designated him as a Chief Auror Deputy, or some such, and asked him to go to the Ministry and help organize the extremely large Auror force that was now gathering.

Once Moody was gone, Harry found himself alone on the cliff with Bellatrix and Amelia Bones.

"You are about to be elected Minister of Magic," Bellatrix informed Harry.

Harry acted pleasantly surprised.

Bellatrix continued explaining the situation to Harry. "Almost all of the darker pureblood families that have Wizengamot seats will be voting for you. Amelia assures me that her people will vote for you. Hopefully, we'll get some other people voting for you, too, now that Crouch has been detained and considering that Prewitt's supporters have not had time to find another candidate. Once you are formally installed as Minister, certain purebloods will betray the Dark Lord into our hands. After we defeat the Dark Lord, your administration will show these purebloods that supported you every consideration reasonably possible."

"I'm not issuing simple pardons," Harry said.

"They understand that," Bellatrix said. "The other thing is that you will be appointing Amelia, here, to be your Senior Undersecretary."

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, smiling at Amelia. "Who gets to replace me as the DMLE Director?"

"I would like to nominate Frank Longbottom," Amelia said.

"What about James Potter or Sirius Black?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix smirked at Harry.

Amelia shook her head. "The Director of the DMLE is basically your hired wand. Right now, a significant amount of the populace interacts with the Ministry through the DMLE. You need somebody who is strong, inspiring, and well-liked. Potter and Black are good wizards and excel at what they do in the DMLE. But, Frank Longbottom is just as good at his job and more inspiring to the public as a whole. Everybody in the DMLE respects him. Purebloods will see him as a proper leader. Muggleborns will see him as a good and fair-minded wizard. Everybody will see a wizard who is mature but reasonably young and strong. They will also see somebody is untainted by politics. You will have strong support putting you in as Minister, but you will need to surround yourself with good people to keep that support so that you will have the political power needed to prove yourself a good leader."

"Longbottom it is," Harry said. "Shall we go to the Ministry?"

"Not yet," Bellatrix said. "You need to change your clothes." She looked at Amelia. "My secretary is putting things into motion. Perhaps you could go make sure she's doing things right and then organize the rest."

"Consider it done," Amelia said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Changing Harry's clothes quickly turned into a frustrating debate.

"You cannot walk into the Wizengamot chamber wearing nothing but your battle robes," Bellatrix argued. "You are going to be the Minister of Magic."

"I'm also apparently going to lead a lot of people into a battle against the Dark Lord," Harry rebutted as he put his recently cleaned and dried battle robes back on.

Bellatrix stepped back form Harry and surveyed Harry's appearance with a skeptical look on her face. "Well, the overall black theme goes well, but you need more color. I want people to be able to look to the front of the room and know who the Minister is . . . or should be."

"I guess we can charm my gloves to be a bright color," Harry said.

"No," Bellatrix said. "I think that it would be best to get a modest cloak of some sort that can go over your battle robes. You can get rid of it easily, even if the battle comes to you unexpectedly. What color do you like?"

"Red."

"You are being supported by Slytherins. You should not suggest to them that you are more Gryffindor than not. Come to think of it, you probably should not wear green either. We do not need you going down in history as a being too sympathetic to these people."

Harry had already gone through this debate with himself once. "Purple," he said.

"That suggests royalty," Bellatrix said slowly. "I like it."

Harry rolled his eyes, but decided that it would be better not to comment on her apparent vainness.

"You need to write a speech, too," Bellatrix told Harry. "It is customary for the newly installed Minister of Magic to make some comments."

"If we're about to face down the Dark Lord, we will need to run some errands before I sit down and write some speech," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Bellatrix said.

"I want to take him alive. That way, we can make sure he dies permanently and possibly even mine his mind for any information we need. It also helps us give mercy to those who might actually deserve it if we have a visible scapegoat. To take him alive, there will have to be some preparations before we launch the attack," Harry said.

"Taking him alive would be very dangerous," Bellatrix said slowly. "I suppose you could heavily dose him with potions and keep him unconscious most of the time. But, his supporters would try to break him out and might even fail to disband as quickly as you would hope."

"We can make sure we take him away to a secret place," Harry said walking through their flat and making his way into the supply room.

"His most loyal supporters will find a way to track him when you transport him," Bellatrix said as Harry rooted around in the piles of equipment he had accumulated since he and Bellatrix had taken the flat.

"Magical tracking was always a problem during the Lost War," Harry said. "But Hermione invented an untraceable portkey." From a pile of equipment, Harry produced one of the Rubik's cube portkeys.

"I am pretty sure those are traceable," Bellatrix said.

Harry smiled and then tapped his wand to the cube, muttering something under his breath. The plastic Rubik's Cube suddenly became a semi-opaque cube of dark glass. "Hermione's final invention," Harry said sadly. "The anti-portkey portkey."

"The what?" Bellatrix demanded.

"It does not travel with the person whom it transports. It sends them to their final destination. And then, it portkeys itself to an ocean and self-destructs," Harry explained. "Hermione wanted to make it so that the person's destination could not be divined from the portkey itself, but she was short on time and opted to also make it a normal portkey that went away and self-destructed. We're going to need to dig up my other emergency boxes as quickly as possible so that we can have a lot of these on hand.

"All right, so maybe we can keep the Dark Lord under control, and maybe you can transport him via untraceable means, but people are going to eventually figure out where we are keeping him," Bellatrix said.

"Secrecy spells," Harry said. "And, if we have the Dark Lord, truth potions are going to force him to spill everything he knows about every Death Eater. Nobody will have time to mount any sort of rescue attempt before we capture them. I can have him convicted and executed before the end of the year."

"If you are quite sure that is the way you want to do it . . . ," Bellatrix said.

"Very sure," Harry said. "Now, let's get moving."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Dressed in finely tailored Wizengamot robes, Bellatrix passed through one of the portals that led into the Wizengamot chamber. She stopped to survey the room. The benches were about half full—an impressive showing for a pre-dawn government gathering. Of course, Bellatrix had made attendance mandatory for those under her thumb. The Dark-leaning Wizengamot members present were nervously eyeing both Bellatrix and the Aurors positioned at each exit.

Bellatrix made her way through the aisles toward the front of the room, where she had spied Amelia Bones seated very close to the spot where Harry would sit once he was installed. Feeling slightly grouchy that Amelia would be Harry's right-hand in the Ministry bureaucracy, Bellatrix took a seat next to her.

"Everything is in order," Amelia said. "There are enough gathered to make this legal—if only barely."

"What about the vote count?" Bellatrix asked.

"If your band of miscreants is all on your side, there should be enough. Let's hope that this thing gets started before too many unknowns realize that this meeting is happening." Amelia said. "I think we'll be okay, though. Foxe is being strangely accommodating. I didn't have to force the meeting at all. He issued the summons himself."

Bellatrix shrugged. The Foxes had never been the most predictable or reliable political family.

After only a couple of brief moments, the Wizengamot session was called to order as Acting Minister Foxe and Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock, entered and took their seats.

"The chair recognizes Acting Minister of Magic Edward Foxe," Professor Dumbledore said after going through the initial formalities.

Edward Foxe stood from where he was sitting. Interestingly, instead of taking a spot at the head of the room, he had taken his customary spot at one of the sides of the room next to his brother, Andrew. "Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, there is a vacancy in the office of the Minister of Magic. As the senior official of the Ministry, I am Acting Minister. It is my right, as Acting Minister, to summon the Wizengamot to fill the vacancy. That is the purpose of this meeting." He then sat down.

"That was anti-climactic," Amelia whispered to Bellatrix.

There was silence in the chamber as everybody waited for somebody else to do something. It was customary for the Wizengamot to debate the status of the country and go through a process that involved the vetting of multiple candidates. But, everybody present knew that this meeting was for everybody present to offer a yea or nay vote on a pre-selected candidate. Moreover, the vast majority had already decided to vote yea.

Dumbledore eventually broke the silence. "I think we may as well begin the nominating process."

Amelia nudged Bellatrix.

Bellatrix stood. "I nominate Harry Ashworth Black."

"I second the nomination," Amelia called out.

The Foxes were staring at Bellatrix, confusion on their faces. It seemed they had been expecting Bellatrix to be the next Minister of Magic. The realization dawned in Bellatrix's mind that she might have been able to win a more protracted bid for the position.

Almost immediately after Amelia seconded the nomination, Amos Diggory motioned for the nominating process to end. It was seconded by another of Amelia's allies, and Dumbledore mechanically began the formal vote.

Well played, Amelia, Bellatrix thought. Well played, indeed. For some reason, Bellatrix could not summon anger. Harry was going to be Minister, Voldemort was going to be defeated, and Bellatrix would have the luxury and time to do nearly anything she wanted. Her turn would come—probably during easier time, too. When Dumbledore asked for Madam Black's vote, Bellatrix said "Yea."

Professor Dumbledore continued down the roll, calling the name of each member of the Wizengamot. Eventually, he reached the end. Harry was elected by a unanimous vote. If those who were not present had been present, Bellatrix supposed it would have been much closer, if an election had been able to proceed at all. Harry now needed to avoid giving cause to be removed. He would also have to be careful in making appointments to the Wizengamot when vacancies occurred.

At the conclusion of the vote, Dumbledore sent an Auror to fetch Harry from Bellatrix's office, where he had been waiting and, hopefully, writing a good inauguration speech. Harry eventually entered through one of the portals, looking strangely impressive in his black and purple cloak that did relatively little to hide the fact that he wore battle robes.

"The Wizengamot has elected you as Minister," Dumbledore informed Harry. The Headmaster, acting as Chief Warlock, then proceeded to formally install Harry into the position. At the conclusion, Dumbledore asked the new Minister Black if he had any words to offer.

"I do," Harry said as he scanned the room. "But I would like to address more than just those gathered here. A large number of Aurors and Ministry employees are gathering. I would like to address all those as well."

"I'm not sure there is enough room in the Ministry for such a gathering, Minister," Dumbledore said.

Bellatrix caught Harry eye and gestured at him. He looked at her questioningly, and she picked her way through the aisles and walked up to the podium. "Perhaps you can give a speech at the staging area where we launch our attack on the Dark Lord," she whispered. "But first you need to meet with the Death Eaters that have just elected you to give them your assurances and to get the information we need from them so that we can launch the attack. That's part of the bargain. They betray the Dark Lord to you for your mercy. You also need to appoint Amelia to be Senior Undersecretary and Frank to be the Direction of the DMLE. That will grease the skids."

Harry nodded, and Bellatrix returned to her seat. He then stood silently as he contemplated his next move.

"Minister?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Harry said slowly. "My wife has reminded me that if I am not to give a speech immediately, I should probably take care of some matters of business before too much time passes. I hereby appoint Amelia Bones to be Senior Undersecretary. I also appoint Frank Longbottom to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Somebody find Director Longbottom and notify him of his appointment. Tell him I want him to gather the Aurors and fighting volunteers at the ruins of Ravenbourgh. Undersecretary Bones and my wife will request that some of you present remain here. If they do not request you to stay, please go to Ravenbourgh and await my arrival.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Frank Longbottom was answering difficult questions.

"If you killed him, then how is it that he suddenly came alive and tried to kill Harry?" Moody asked.

Frank and various Order members were occupying a section of the lobby on the DMLE's floor. Frank glanced around nervously. "Look," he said quietly, "Acting Minister Foxe told me that I absolutely had to hit Crouch with a Killing Curse before he left the island. He said it was too dangerous to even allow him to live because of what You-Know-Who had done to him. He said to make it look like an accident. I swear that I hit him with a Killing Curse." He produced a piece of parchment from his robes. "This absolves me."

"I don't dispute that killing Crouch was a good idea," Moody said. "But if you hit him with a Killing Curse, he should have been dead."

"He was a horcrux," Lily Potter said. "That may have somehow rendered him immune."

"That sounds ridiculous," Moody said.

"Not if you think about it," Lily said. "The nature of a horcrux, apparently, is that—"

The group was spared from Lily's scholarly explanation when an Auror arrived via the lift. "Harry Black is now the Minister!" he yelled.

This caused excitement among many of the Aurors, and some of them even cheered.

The bearer of the exciting tidings continued. "Minister Black has appointed Frank Longbottom to be Director, too."

"Well, I guess that resolves the question," Lily said, grinning at Moody as many of the DMLE staff came over to congratulate Frank.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"Well?" Harry asked as Amelia Bones and Edward Foxe returned from forcefully interrogating Barty Crouch, Jr.

"His information matches what Bellatrix was able to get out of the Wizengamot members," Amelia said. "I realize that you want to make a formal speech to those that are gathering, but you need to make it short. We don't need You-Know-Who realizing that you're about to make a major attack on his lair and escaping the country or moving to a new hiding place while you're running your mouth. Everybody who knows about your election is firmly under our control. I've seen to that. But leaks happen eventually. "

Harry nodded. "It needs to be to a big audience, and it would not be very effective if I gave it after the battle. I also want the Wizengamot Death Eaters who elected me there. I want them to feel like they were part of a big movement to do this. I want them to hear what I say and then see what I do."

"You're not explaining it very well, but I get the picture," Amelia sighed.

"I might have a solution," Edward said.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I can send Unspeakables to put heavy anti-transportation wards in the area. Very heavy. The Department of Mysteries has some very powerful tools."

"What happens if the Dark Lord notices that portkey and apparition does not work?" Harry asked.

"He'll know you're coming," Edward said. "But there is nothing he can do about it."

"He can prepare for a siege," Amelia said.

"Yes, but I don't think that will make much difference," Edward said. "The Dark Lord has chosen his position well."

"We don't have to make it hard," Harry said. "We just communicate to the Death Eaters inside that they can kick him out the front door into our hands. If they don't, we blow the place to bits and burn the rest with Fiendfyre."

"I would discourage Fiendfyre," Edward said.

"I'm afraid it is necessary," Harry said. "But don't worry. Edward, see to it that those wards are put up as soon as possible. I will go and help Director Longbottom organize the finer points of the attack and then give my speech."

Edward nodded. "It shall be as you wish." He departed, ostensibly heading for the Department of Mysteries.

"Let's go up to the DMLE and check there before heading to Ravenbourgh," Harry said to Amelia.

"I was hoping we could talk about something else first," Amelia said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You don't want people to think that you're taking orders from your wife," Amelia said.

Harry looked at Amelia questioningly. "Are you talking about when Bellatrix reminded me to appoint you and Frank?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Amelia said. "The last thing you need is for anybody to suspect or think they have proof that you are a puppet of your wife. The pureblood families would no doubt be thrilled, but you would lose the confidence of those who have survived this war."

"I'm not afraid to take good advice when it is offered," Harry said.

"But the public needs to be able to see for sure that you are taking good advice—that nothing else is happening," Amelia said. "The fact that you are going to be giving some sort of leniency to former Death Eaters will also have to be handled carefully."

"What do you suggest then?" Harry asked. "You can't just raise concerns to me without having something in mind."

"I suppose it will be okay if you and Bellatrix make bargains with former Death Eaters. Compensation for damage they did, public service, etc. But you also have to be seen as throwing the book at some of them. It has to be clear that you are willing to punish some Death Eaters to the full extent of the law."

"Good cop, bad cop, then?" Harry said.

"What?" Amelia said.

"It's a Muggle thing," Harry said slowly. "So, you're concerned that Bellatrix is going to be seen as having too much influence over me and that she risks making my election look too much like some sort of twisted pureblood victory. You're also concerned that the leniency thing could blow up in my face."

"Sort of," Amelia said.

"So, we're going to have to have public trials for these Death Eaters," Harry said.

"Yes."

"How about I appoint Bellatrix to be the Chief Prosecutor of Death Eater Crimes," Harry suggested. "It will be her and her underlings' job to accuse Death Eaters, investigate them, and argue for the harshest punishments possible. Regardless of her feelings, I know she can come off as being rabidly against all of them. These Death Eaters will have defenders who will make sure that we aren't unfairly sticking it to people and who can help these Death Eaters perhaps bargain for lighter sentences. If Death Eaters bargain, I could make bargains that are subject to approval by the Wizengamot. Nobody would find fault there, would they?"

"Well, something like that could work," Amelia mused. "The only problem is finding someone who will be willing to help defend Death Eaters that everybody already knows are guilty."

"We'll make it a Ministry job," Harry said. "Easy."

"Yeah, and what bureaucrat is going to be so exacting about his or her extremely unpopular job and see the grand importance of it?" Amelia said.

"I believe his name is Percy Weasley," Harry said.

There was a long pause. "I do believe you are right," Amelia finally said.

"I'll see to it that he gets a good promotion after the bulk of the trials are over."

"Well, let's focus on taking down You-Know-Who first," Amelia said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Under the supervision of Director Longbottom and Professor Dumbledore, an army gathered at the ruins of Ravenbourgh. Aurors, Ministry employees, Order members, and the occasional family member made up the crowd. Rose Potter fit into the latter category. She and Leo were with Sidra and Lily. James and Sirius had been called away to help supervise some groups of Ministry employees.

"Well, Harry is certainly taking his time, isn't he?" Sidra grumbled.

"I'm sure he's doing his best," Lily said.

"If you did not actually give birth to him, he's not your son," Sidra said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, you don't even know for sure that the you in the alternate future gave birth to him."

"It's the only logical explanation," Lily said serenely. "Once this is all over, we'll have a family dinner with Harry and Bellatrix to sort this out."

"Besides," Sidra continued, "if Harry is our family, why didn't he appoint Dad to be the Director of Magical Law Enforcement instead of Longbottom?"

"Your father loves fun a little too much," Lily said. "Or at least, he used to. Harry gave him a detention once, you know."

Rose and Leo looked at each other and laughed.

"That would explain why Dad wasn't eager to buy the theory that Harry could be his son," Rose said, still snickering.

Further conversation was cut off when a ripple in the crowd signified that Harry had arrived. Rose and her family strained to see him, but were not able to see him through the crowd until he climbed up onto one of Ravenbourgh's ruined walls with some other witches and wizards. The sun was not entirely up, but there was just enough light to make out the people standing on the wall. Harry was especially obvious. His battle robes and the bright purple of his outer cloak made him look different than those standing near him.

"Attention!" came Frank Longbottom's amplified voice. "Minister Black has arrived. He wishes to say a few words before we march to end You-Know-Who's reign of terror."

After a brief moment, Harry's amplified voice washed over the crowd. Rose strained her eyes to make Harry out as he stood on the ruins of the once impressive manor of the Blacks.

"Many years ago, the Dark Lord Voldemort made himself known to those who were dissatisfied with the state of the magical world. I think many of those people were hurting for what were perhaps valid reasons. But Voldemort did not come to heal. He rubbed salt into both real and imaginary wounds and, from those angry with the government, raised an army to conquer."

Harry paused for dramatic emphasis and then continued in a more docile tone. "He failed to conquer, however. And, many of those in Voldemort's army have realized that Voldemort cares little for their welfare. Had Voldemort been successful, he would not have made a world that anybody could enjoy, for his only goal was self-gratification. He dictated that people who disagreed with the goals and visions for society set by his lusts were to be tortured, killed, or otherwise ostracized. Anyone who impeded his progress was to be killed—even loyal followers who fell short. Let us be grateful that the Ministry was able to hold its ground as well as it did and mourn for those who were senselessly killed or otherwise put under Voldemort's power."

Harry continued his speech, speaking more loudly now, and gesturing with his hand that was not holding his wand to his throat. "This morning, I have been elected to serve as your Minister of Magic. Those who elected me include both those who realize they made a mistake in supporting Voldemort and those who have suffered these many years. In large part, I feel that you have elected me because of your perception of my prowess on the battlefield. I vow to you that I will end Voldemort's reign of terror. Moreover, I vow to you that I will help rebuild the magical world. Victims of this war will be cared for. Those who wish to do anyone harm will be prevented from doing so. The Ministry will do its best to honor the claims of justice."

"Our magic is our universal birthright," Harry declared, now sounding conversational. "Those who have it belong in our community. That fact is paramount. To the descendants of pureblood lines, I promise that you shall be able to preserve many of your traditions so long as they do not harm the community or exclude those entitled to inclusion by their magic. To those of you with a non-traditional magical heritage, I promise to preserve your place in this world, but you must realize that while we welcome your ideas and innovations, you have much to learn before you can demand certain changes. For those of you who are not average wizards or witches or who are not wizards or witches at all, I also promise you a place in this world and accommodations for what burdens plague you so long as you are good citizens. Most of all, I promise that I will pay attention to your needs. That which is important to your welfare and to the future of our community will be what guides me."

"Now," Harry declared as the sunrise finally made it easier for many in the crowd to see him. "let us bring an end to this bloody and tragic chapter of our community's history and lay the foundation for a world in which everybody with magic is welcome and in which they can happily find a niche with their friends and family."

46. Harry & Bellatrix Make Good & Epilogue

Update-9 July 2014: A big thanks goes out to Hidden50 for compiling a very long list of typos found throughout the story. I have taken his list and made corrections.

A/N: Well, this is the end. Thank you so much to all of you who read and offered support during the past four years. Also, a special thank you to those who served as co-authors and advisors. I have a number a business matters to take care of before launching the chapter. I realize some of you think some of this stuff is silly, but I really do get contacted about it, so I thought I'd just take care of it upfront:

Sequel: I have adamantly declared for four years that I intended to write no sequel. Well, I did not know it then, but I guess I am a dirty liar. A couple of weeks ago, I took few minutes from working on the plot of the Harry/Helena story to wonder what a DE sequel would look like. The result? Para Bellum. A story I am already in love with. Add me to your author alert list so that you will receive notification when the first chapter of Para Bellum arrives. In it, you will find three separate dimensions, Harry/Bellatrix, Harry/Ginny, cross-dimensional political intrigue, and some pretty legitimate battles, among other things.

Reposting DE: I hereby grant license for people to repost this story elsewhere. I only ask that you notify me so that I can read reviews.

Translating DE: As with Earl, I am willing to allow anybody to translate DE into another language, though I think you would be crazy to embark on such a task. It is your duty to figure out whether somebody is already translating into that language. I only ask that you notify me so that I can read reviews.

DE in One, Big File: I will download the story and compile it into one big file, sans A/Ns for your enjoyment. It will eventually be available on DE's Y! Group. But not tonight. I've already spent enough of my Saturday on this.

Altering DE: I got a lot of extremely rude reviews when I sent H/B to the future. You have my permission to take everything up to that chapter and try to write your own version of how I should have written it. We'll see who gets more positive reviews . . .

Story Image/Avatar: I'm not so good at visual art. If anybody wants to propose an image for this story or even Para Bellum, I am willing to post it. The Yahoo! Group has a place to upload suggestions. I'll warn you, though, I am a little finicky, so I do reserve the right to just stick to no image.

Once again, thank you for all of your support.

Chapter 45: Harry & Bellatrix Make Good

Epilogue

Lord Silvere

A Death Eater burst into the room in which Lord Voldemort had secluded himself. He rushed forward and knelt, not making eye contact. "My lord! Lord Black has seized control of the Ministry. He has discovered our location and has mustered an army and is sending it against you, here. We have at best minutes before the force arrives."

Voldemort struggled to control an overwhelming wave of surprise, anger, and even fear. To show any other emotion other than calm would be weakness. "Erect extra wards around the hill and reinforce the defenses at the cave entrance. We will then retreat using apparition or emergency portkeys."

"Some of your followers have already tried escaping, milord," the Death Eater admitted. "All forms of transportation are blocked. Minister Black must have sent an advance force."

Voldemort stared into the Death Eater's eyes and used magic to read his thoughts. The Death Eater's thoughts revealed that he had been among those who had made an escape attempt—without notifying his Master of the impending danger. Saying nothing more to the Death Eater, Voldemort summoned his wand to his hand and hurled a Killing Curse. It struck the Death Eater, killing him instantly.

"Faithless servants," Voldemort whispered as he strode from the room to his innermost sanctuary in the caves. His familiar, a large snake, was resting on his bed. "Come Nagini," Voldemort hissed, "we must hide. If Lord Black wants to find us, he will have to come and get us."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

The sunlight of early morning poured down on a green field in front of the entrance to Voldemort's cave. Aurors, Ministry workers, and other volunteers with battle training gathered—some spreading out into defensive positions while others clumped together in big groups. Even members of the Wizengamot had come. Harry took a position on a grassy knoll, surrounded by his principal deputies and advisors.

"The wards my people have placed are holding," Edward Foxe informed Harry. "The Death Eaters also have wards. I am fairly confident that the Dark Lord is within."

"Do your wards block escape routes, such as a path through to another cave?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Foxe said. "The wards penetrate deep into the ground."

"Good," Harry said as he surveyed his attack force and assessed its relative strength.

"Is that hole in the ground the entrance?" Director Longbottom asked.

"No," Foxe said. "That's a decoy. The real entrance is about ten feet up and beyond. It's behind some camouflage spells. It's a doorway. About six feet tall. It can only fit one abreast."

Alastor Moody shook his head. "Defenders could hold that indefinitely. And, there could be all sorts of spells that get triggered by one of us walking through the door."

"Is there a place we can break into the cave without going through that doorway?" Harry asked.

"Our sensors say that there is a tunnel beyond the doorway. It would take a lot of spellpower to carve a new tunnel and fend off a defending force," Foxe informed Harry. "You might consider using that amount of magic to completely destroy and collapse the caves."

"That would be a lot of dead people," Amelia Bones cut in. "And, you might never know for sure whether you got You-Know-Who."

"Quite," Harry said slowly, suddenly distracted by Bellatrix's arrival on the knoll via apparition. Instead of coming over to the group, she held herself back while Harry conversed with the group. "Frank, have your Aurors cast a barrage of spells against Voldemort's wards. Mostly, I want there to be a lot of noise and ground shaking. I don't necessarily want anything to penetrate and harm the Death Eaters inside, but I wouldn't be sad if some of the wards fell. Keep that up until I call a cease fire. The rest of you, stay here while I talk to Bella for a moment."

Frank nodded and spoke to some of his aides who then carried his orders to the Auror force stationed on the field. Harry walked away from the group and approached Bellatrix. She handed him a cloth bag.

Harry accepted the bag and looked inside. "You've anticipated my needs," Harry said, reaching in and withdrawing a number of potion vials.

"I fear that a duel between you and the Dark Lord is unavoidable," Bellatrix said. "He will not surrender himself. If he has his way, every inch you gain will be with blood."

Harry nodded as he took all the potion vials from the bag, sorted them, and placed them in various pockets in his battle robes. He then withdrew a single Rubik's cube from the bag and slipped it into one of his pockets.

"Only one?" Bellatrix asked.

"I've decided that it will be me and nobody else," Harry said. "I would prefer numbers on my side, but I don't think I will be able to get that many fighters close to Voldemort. I'll have to sneak up on him."

"If that is what you feel is best," Bellatrix said, taking the bag with the remaining Rubik's cubes back and holding it. "What do you want me to do, now?"

"Find Dumbledore. Take him to Voldemort's final destination to help ensure safety and security. Also take anyone else he nominates to assist. Perhaps you can use the cubes to take you there in an untraceable manner." Harry said.

"I will be expecting an Order of Merlin, First Class, for all of this, you know," Bellatrix said, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.

"Let's not pat ourselves on the back yet," Harry said, turning to go back to where the others were standing.

"Wait," Bellatrix said.

Harry turned back, and she stepped forward and embraced him, hugging him tightly. "Do not be a dimwit," she said before kissing him.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Using the spell Bellatrix had challenged him to learn, Harry projected his image into the cave and appeared as an extremely colorless and dim version of the Ghost of Ashworth. The passageway he initially found himself in was empty and lit by only one magical torch. Cautiously, he made his way to another passageway, and then another as explosions shook the caverns. In one large cavern, he found the bulk of the Death Eaters, quietly cowering.

Harry moved on and found other groups of Death Eaters. Eventually, from eavesdropping on the hushed whispers of some of the smaller groups, Harry learned that Voldemort had seemingly abandoned his followers and taken refuge deep in the earth.

Realizing that Voldemort might find some way to escape if left alone for too long, Harry quickly surveyed the essential layout of the cave system before cancelling the spell and returning to his body. He opened his eyes and found Frank Longbottom and Edward Foxe looking at him expectantly.

"Cease fire," Harry said.

Frank passed the order on, and the explosions stopped.

"I am going to go in alone," Harry said, raising his hand to forestall the objection already on Frank's lips. "I'll drive the Death Eaters out. They would have already surrendered, but they are afraid that the Dark Lord is watching and will kill them if they do."

"Do you think that is what will happen?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. But as I drive them out, I will certainly watch to see if the Dark Lord tries to do something," Harry said. "And, forcing them to pass through the entrance will help you see what wards there might be. Take them prisoner as they exit. Then, once you have ascertained from the prisoners that all the Death Eaters that want to surrender are out, advance into the caves using whatever amount of force you think is appropriate. Systematically secure each cavern or room and slowly progress inward. I will be stalking the Dark Lord."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry used phoenix fire to transport himself into the cave undetected. Holding both of his phoenix-feather wands, Harry cast a stealth charm on himself and made his way to the largest gathering of Death Eaters. After some careful calculations, Harry discovered that if he stood near the edge of the cavern and cast his image projection charm to the opposite end of the room, he would be able to see from his image well enough to cast with his physical body.

He took his position at the edge of the cavern, cast a number of protective spells around himself, and then cast the image projection charm. On the far end of the cavern the Ghost of Ashworth appeared. It was a ghostly version of Harry, slightly taller than Harry's actual height.

Within seconds, a young Death Eater was shouting the alarm.

"Shut up!" snapped a witch who seemed to be one of the senior Death Eaters in the group. Angrily and fearfully she stared at Harry's ghostly form, her eyes darting nervously back and forth to check her peripheral vision. It seemed she understood that she was looking at an illusion. "What do you want, Minister Black?" she snarled.

"Your immediate surrender," Harry said. "Leave the caves and surrender to the Aurors."

"You haven't won yet," another Death Eater called out.

Mostly for the theatrical effect and partly to give himself enough time to think of what he would say next, Harry stared at the Death Eater who had spoken without saying anything. Harry had hoped that the Death Eaters would see reason and surrender when invited. However, it seemed that such a conversation would take too long. He could not afford to give Voldemort much more time. After a long moment had passed, Harry used the magic of the image projection spell to make his eyes glow.

Harry then cast a spell to amplify his voice. His words echoed through the caverns, reverberating loudly. "Death Eaters: This is Harry Ashworth Black speaking. As of this morning, I am the Minister of Magic. Your status as Death Eaters makes you enemies of the magical government of Britain. I am ordering you to proceed immediately to the entrance of the cave and surrender your wands and yourselves to the Aurors."

"And what if we don't?" yelled that same Death Eater.

Harry directed a ghostly glare at the Death Eater, but deigned to answer the question anyway. "If you fail to surrender immediately, you will probably be killed." Finished speaking, Harry cancelled the sound spell and watched the Death Eaters in the main cavern expectantly.

Some of the Death Eaters were fidgeting and moving more than they had been before. However, the crowd mentality seemed to be holding them back. Harry decided to take advantage of the crowd mentality. With a regretful sigh, he cancelled the image projection spell. Ensuring that his stealth spells were still in effect, Harry took aim at the end of the cavern and summoned Fiendfyre. It sprouted from the floor where the Ghost had stood and blazed into a rotating column before transforming into a giant basilisk.

The Death Eaters began to run.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lord Voldemort had secured himself in a secret chamber near the large chamber in which the bulk of his Death Eaters were cowering. As soon as he realized that Lord Black would likely waste a lot of time trying to convince the Death Eaters to surrender and then even more time dealing with any Death Eaters that did surrender, Voldemort decided to flee deeper into the caves and attempt to break through the wards that the Ministry had cast deep into the ground to prevent his escape. It was easier to physically pass anti-transportation wards because they were mostly targeted toward transportation spells. And, if the Death Eaters were going to leave the cavern, the Ministry might have to alter the wards.

"Stay, Nagini," Voldemort hissed as he left the chamber. She would be his insurance policy. If Lord Black was to be victorious, he would have to find and kill both him and Nagini.

Voldemort exited the chamber and sealed it carefully to disguise its existence. He then rushed deep into the caverns as Lord Black's voice reverberated throughout, demanding that the Death Eaters surrender.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Dispassionately, Harry guided the Fiendfyre basilisk with subtle wand movements as the Death Eaters screamed and ran. He made a point of looking at as many of them directly as possible so that he could later use a Pensieve to remember their faces. No doubt there would be lengthy trials with these Death Eaters claiming all sorts of things to get themselves off the hook.

Harry flicked his wand a couple of times and a phoenix and a griffin sprouted from the fiery basilisk. At his direction, the three fiery creatures began rushing down the passageways of the caves. Keeping control of the Fiendfyre was exhausting, but it was working. The Death Eaters in the caves were all rushing toward the entrance. Harry plodded onward, keeping his focus on his spells.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

"It appears that the Minister has made a convincing argument," Edward Foxe said to Amelia Bones as they watched Death Eaters spawn from the entrance of the cave and surrender in droves.

"That's good and great," Amelia sighed, "but what happens when he comes face to face with You-Know-Who? Minister Black II's reign could be shorter than his father-in-law's. Where does that leave us?"

"Not in a bad position," Foxe said. "You would have every Death Eater in custody and the memory of a martyr capable of inspiring all sorts of things. You could probably put a price on You-Know-Who's head and have him dead within a year. That would be victory for the good guys."

"No, it would not be I," Amelia sighed. "It would be Bellatrix Black. Having lost both father and husband to assassination, she would be elevated to the Minister's office on a wave of public sympathy. She would even have the money to personally put a price on Voldemort's head."

"She would not be a bad Minister," Edward Foxe observed.

Amelia wanted to argue otherwise, but was interrupted by an Unspeakable who had rushed up to them.

"Mr. Foxe!" the Unspeakable exclaimed. "Somebody is trying to break through the wards."

"Reinforce them immediately!" Foxe commanded. "Make them bigger and deeper."

"We are doing that as subtly as possible so that the person does not realize it," the Unspeakable said, "but don't you think it might be appropriate to cast additional wards to perhaps box him in?"

Edward Foxe stared at the Unspeakable with an expression of shock on his normally sedate face. "Your suggestion is excellent. I should have thought of it before. We will cast an entire grid of wards on the area, working inward. No matter where he is, You-Know-Who will be trapped in a small area, unable to move. And, if he breaks any of them, we'll know where he is. We'll of course key the Minister into the wards. Amelia! Find me some people who can cast the requisite spells."

Amelia did not appreciate taking orders from someone who technically ranked lower than her, but she could see the good sense and rushed to find Frank Longbottom to see who could be spared.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

After about half an hour, Harry was convinced that the Death Eaters had completely evacuated the caverns. Focusing carefully, Harry extinguished his final Fiendfyre creature and let out a sigh of relief. The spells had drained his magic. Casting a couple of small stealth spells, Harry moved to another passageway and settled down to rest for a moment.

From the bag Bellatrix had brought to him, Harry withdrew a number of potion vials and drank the contents. After returning the empty vials to the bag, Harry leaned his head back against the stone wall and waited for the effects of the potions to manifest themselves.

After about five minutes, Harry was planning to stand up when a magically amplified voice echoed through the cave. "Minister Black! Edward Foxe needs to speak with you. He's at the entrance of the cave."

Harry frowned suspiciously, wondering if it was a ploy to get him to reveal himself. He dismissed the thought quickly, though. Even if it was a trap, he had the image projection spell. Quickly, he cast the spell and sent his image to the front of the cave. There, he discovered Edward Foxe.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I believe that we have pinpointed You-Know-Who's location," Foxe said quickly. "I had more wards cast to block him in. You should be able to pass through all the wards and do what you need to do."

"Well done," Harry said, smiling at the news and at the sensation of the potions taking effect. "The caves seem to be empty. Tell Frank that he can begin moving his Aurors in."

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Lord Voldemort cursed as he gave up on his attempt to move through the wards. They simply were too powerful, and it seemed that his tampering had only given them more energy with which to resist him. There was another passage. It was not as deep in the ground, but it was off from the main passages. The Aurors might not have warded that far out. Voldemort whirled around and began stalking back up the passage. Abruptly, he was repelled. Somebody had placed a new ward.

Instantly, Voldemort realized that the Ministry had been slowly strengthening the wards as he fought against them. The thought that he should have realized this and fled before the Ministry could erect the new wards floated to the surface of his mind. Voldemort quashed it. He was going to have to find a way around.

He whirled yet again and unleashed an explosion charm at the side of the passageway. Perhaps he could tunnel around. The Dark Lord continued to blast holes in the side of the wall, trying to protect himself from the shards of flying stone and also taking steps to prevent the passageway from caving in.

A long while had passed, and Voldemort had made substantial progress when he felt the back of his neck prickle. He realized that somebody was watching him.

Wand pointing straight in front of him, he looked down the passage beyond the wards that had trapped him. He could see nobody. Keeping silent, Voldemort strained his eyes, attempting to see past any disillusionment or stealth charms, but to no avail.

"Come out and face me, Lord Black!" Voldemort demanded.

There was no answer.

After a while, Voldemort determined that it had been a false alarm. But, instead of continuing on his tunneling project, he began casting wards to protect himself.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Harry watched as Voldemort began using his wand to carve Dark runes into the floor of the cave. You're losing your touch, Tom, Harry mused. You should have been doing that sooner. Either that or you should have lured me in and allowed me to kill you so that your disembodied spirit could flee.

Holding in a sigh, Harry strengthened his stealth charms and crept away from where the wards had trapped Voldemort.

After a few minutes, he arrived in the cavern where Frank Longbottom had set up his mobile headquarters. Amelia and Edward were watching as Frank directed the Aurors and other Ministry volunteers.

"Well?" Amelia asked.

"He's down there," Harry said. "He's getting ready to make it unpleasant for anybody who tries to pull him out."

"Shouldn't you get moving, then?" Frank said.

"The snake isn't with him," Harry said. "It needs to be found and killed. Amelia, see if you can get any of the prisoners to confirm that the snake was around before our attack began. Edward, start thinking of ways to find it."

"Finding a reptile in an isolated area like this will be relatively simple," Edward said. "I might even find it before Amelia confirms that it was here."

"Good," Harry commented. "Now, tell me, if I'm keyed into the wards, can I throw an object through them?"

This led to some discussion, and Edward ultimately had to summon some of the ward casters. Eventually, they were able to cast a number of spells on Harry that would ensure that he and anything he had recently touched could pass through wards they had cast to trap Voldemort. While the ward casters cast spells on Harry, he inquired whether Foxe could cast Fiendfyre.

"I can," Foxe admitted, "but am not well practiced."

"I can help," Amelia volunteered.

"Find the snake," Harry directed. "Once you have it cornered, use some sort of sound charm to signal to me that you're about to kill it. Make it loud enough that it will confuse and surprise Voldemort. Summon the Fiendfyre and kill it five seconds after the noise."

"We will do that," Edward said.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

Voldemort was quite pleased with himself. He had etched a complete circle of runes around himself and had used emergency vials of blood to power the circle. Anybody who tried to cross would fail. There were also some other surprises in store for that person. Now, he could begin work on the tunneling again.

"You're very creative," echoed a voice.

Slightly startled, Voldemort turned around and found Harry standing on the other side of the wards that prevented Voldemort from returning to the main parts of the caverns.

"Do you really think you can kill me?" Voldemort hissed, gesturing angrily and carefully taking note of where his runes were so that he would not inadvertently step over them and lose their protection.

"Certainly," Harry said. "And I will, eventually."

"I'm more powerful than you, you know," Voldemort said.

"No, you're not."

"Then try to kill me," Voldemort said defiantly, spreading his arms wide and leaving himself open.

"I think I'll get more satisfaction from watching you stand trial for murder, torture, and destruction of property, among other things," Harry said. "After that, I think I could convince the Wizengamot to have you put to death. Perhaps we could even find a Muggle method and tailor it to you."

"You'll never kill me. I am too powerful. I am immortal. Even if you manage to kill me, you will always have to wonder if I will find a way to come back. I have made many preparations through the years"

"I wish I could let you live long enough to learn how absurd your outlook on life is," Harry said. "Unfortunately, it would be too risky. Once you outlive your usefulness, you will die."

"Then come and get me!" Voldemort screamed.

Harry grinned, produced his wand, and summoned Fiendfyre. Because it was Harry's magic, it moved effortlessly through the wards and filled the room. After a few seconds, Harry cancelled it, and the flames subsided to reveal Voldemort standing in the passageway, unharmed.

"Nice try," Voldemort observed sarcastically as he released the spell that had protected him.

"Perhaps you misunderstand my intent," Harry said. He gestured to the floor. "All your pretty runes just died."

"Coward," Voldemort snarled. "Come and fight me like a real wizard."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but a clanging sound of a loud bell echoed through the chamber. Reflexively, Voldemort put his hands to his ears and watched as Harry withdrew a Rubik's cube from his robes. A tap of Harry's wand transformed the cube into an opaque glass cube. Voldemort was about to ask what it was when he suddenly felt a shockwave ripple through his being.

Harry had apparently expected this, for just as Voldemort's began to spasm, Harry hurled the glass cube at Voldemort. It made contact. Through his disorientation, Voldemort thought he heard Harry utter a word. Instantaneously, the cube was pushing him away. It was a portkey of some sort. With a thump, Voldemort landed on a hard floor.

Before he could react, Voldemort felt himself become paralyzed. He fell to the ground, and looked up. Standing above him were three people—Albus Dumbledore, Bellatrix Black, and Hermione Granger.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore said as Bellatrix cast a stunner.

Everything went black.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Dumbledore arrived in the Ministry Atrium via the Floo in the late afternoon. Nearly three days had passed since Harry had captured Lord Voldemort and ended the war that had raged for so many years. Celebrations had erupted all throughout Britain. The Muggles had noticed, of course. In a few weeks, the Muggles would likely look back and realize that the celebrations had marked the end of random acts of mysterious violence that hard plagued the country for so long.

But for now, the Muggles would have to remain confused and free of memory charms because Harry had ordered all Ministry personnel to help sort out the aftermath rather than attend to their normal jobs. Eventually, the Ministry would begin to function like a normal, peacetime Ministry should. Dumbledore wondered if anybody remembered what that was like.

Although it was past work hours, there were several dozen wizards and witches gathered in the Atrium. In the days since Voldemort's defeat, the Atrium had become a sort of gathering place for the older witches and wizards who were not quite up to participating in some of the more raucous gatherings in Diagon Alley.

Dumbledore took time to greet some of his friends briefly, but steadily made his way to the lifts and to the floor that housed the Minister of Magic's office suite. Behind an unguarded door, the Headmaster found Harry standing in his office near the windows that looked down into the Atrium.

"Hello, Albus," Harry said without turning around.

"You are quite perceptive," Dumbledore said.

"I saw you coming when you were down there," Harry said.

"I suppose you would have," Dumbledore admitted as he glanced around the office. It seemed that somebody had found time to redo the decorating scheme. In the past, Minister Prewitt had decorated his office with dozens of portraits, but Harry had only two portraits on the wall—one of Prewitt and one of Cygnus Black. The portraits seemed to be the only artistic touches. The furnishings were equally simple. Other than a long table functioning as a desk and a high-backed chair that looked like it belonged to a dining set, there were no furnishings.

"I hope you plan to get some more furniture," Dumbledore said as he conjured himself a comfortable, purple armchair.

"Oh, I suppose I will eventually," Harry said, sounding a little moody. He left the window and took his seat behind the table. "What can I do for you?"

"I've come with news that you and your wife have both been selected to receive the Order of Merlin, First Class," Dumbledore said.

"Won't it look like I'm awarding it to myself?" Harry said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "For several years, the selection process has not involved the Minister. Everybody knows that. Besides, nobody would begrudge you it."

Harry nodded.

"You deserve it, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You've managed to change the course of history, quite literally by saving lives and restoring peace. Equally amazing is that you have become Minister of Magic at a younger age than any past Minister."

"Quite frankly, I would rather not be Minister," Harry sighed.

"You won't be Minister forever, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Good," Harry said, seeming to take cheer from Dumbledore's prediction. "Now, what is it that you've come here for?"

"I wanted to ask if you've had time to consider my proposal regarding Voldemort."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't had a chance. And, to be perfectly frank, the answer will likely be no."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Very well. I had one other suggestion."

Harry gestured his willingness to hear Dumbledore's suggestion.

"The war saw a lot of the Dark Arts surface—particularly the horcruxes. And of course, you and your wife's time travel. I think you will need to ensure that the Department of Mysteries works to ensure that these spells and magical discoveries are well controlled."

"Good point," Harry said, opening a desk drawer and retrieving a piece of parchment. He produced a self-inking quill and began writing.

"Might I also suggest that you appoint Hermione Granger and your wife to be Unspeakables? They are intelligent and trustworthy, and thus qualified to help handle many of these concerns. I would of course warn you that I hope to recruit Miss Granger to teach at Hogwarts, but you could make use of her talents until that time."

Harry's quill stopped moving, and he looked up at Dumbledore, his green eyes boring into the Headmaster's own blue eyes. "I can see Hermione as an Unspeakable, but putting Bellatrix in is kind of stretching it."

"Please consider it," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I think it would be an ideal job for her. She would only have to be part-time."

Harry finished writing. "I will think about it, but I make no promises." He returned the parchment and quill to his desk and looked at Dumbledore. "Was there anything else you wanted to bring up?"

"No," Dumbledore said, "but if you're in the mood, perhaps we could nip out for a bite to eat somewhere."

"I'm afraid I already have dinner plans," Harry said. "I would enjoy it another time, though."

"Good enough," Dumbledore said with a smile as he stood up. "I will look forward to that time."

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

Draco slammed the door of his truck shut and made his way into the house his aunt had asked him to renovate. He scowled at the drywall dust on the bare floor and made his way toward the areas that served as the kitchen to find something to eat.

"This would be a nice place to live if you had started working on it when your aunt told you to," came Sidra's voice.

Draco looked over his shoulder and saw Sidra standing in the portion of the house that would someday become the living room. He shook his head and made his way to the fridge, where he found a bottle of juice. "Why did she kick me out of Privet Drive?"

"She found better use for it," Sidra said.

"Did you actually have a reason for visiting me? Or are you just trying to be annoying?" Draco asked before taking a swig of his juice.

"Your aunt wants me to tell you that she has removed the spells that were keeping you in the area. But, she thinks that given the announced future nuptials or your mother and Snape and given the relatively bad financial state of your mother, you should probably consider staying here and being productive," Sidra said.

Draco grimaced. "What makes my aunt think that my mother is so poor?"

"If there is any Malfoy money, the Ministry will likely take it to help recompense the victims of the war," Sidra said. "Your mother won't go to Azkaban, but she won't get off without penalties."

"I can't stay here and mow lawns forever," Draco whined.

Sidra grinned wickedly. "Then you'll appreciate my second bit of news. Your aunt has started a Muggle company and named it Black Corp. The president is a nice witch named Sabine. Your aunt is giving you the opportunity to be Sabine's personal secretary."

"I refuse to be a secretary," Draco said, returning the juice bottle to the fridge.

"You'll be a secretary, and you'll like it," Sidra said in an intense voice. "Besides, if you get involved with Black Corp, it can take over your lawn mowing business and get this house renovated."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, then," Draco mused.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

At Bellatrix's invitation, the Potters, Sirius, and Leo joined Harry and Bellatrix for dinner in Harry and Bellatrix's Manchester flat. They were all sitting around the dining room table as Kreacher served the dinner.

"Please tell me that Kreacher did not cook this meal," Sirius said as he glared at the house elf.

"We do not allow Kreacher to cook," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly as she sipped from a wine glass. "I cooked this dinner myself."

"Cooked? Really?" James said doubtfully as he eyed the main dish.

Lily swatted James and gave him a warning look.

Despite the warning, James pressed on. "It looks like you microwaved some Muggle frozen meals and dumped them on the plate."

"I will take your opinion that my cooking looks like that of professional food preparers as a compliment," Bellatrix said coolly.

"You can still see the lines where the food compartments were divided," James continued morosely. "And the chicken is upside down. All the herbs and spices are on the bottom."

John, the youngest Potter child, snickered.

Harry chose to intercede. "I can assure each of you that this is Bellatrix's cooking at its best."

"If you say so," James grumbled.

"Why don't we discuss something less controversial," Lily suggested.

"Yes, why don't you tell us about how you're actually a Potter," Rose said to Harry.

Harry shrugged and, after swallowing a bit of chicken, spoke up. "It sounds like you've already figured out the gist of it. My name is Harry James Potter."

"Congratulations," Bellatrix said, "you now know his deepest and darkest secret."

Lily was not satisfied with this. "Surely there is more to it. What were we like in the alternate future?"

"I was an only child. You and father both died while I was still a baby. The Dursleys half-heartedly raised me. I escaped to Hogwarts, and ever since my first year, have been dodging Voldemort and foiling his plans until three days ago. At some point in all that, Sirius became my beloved godfather until he died and made me a Black in his will. As far as I'm concerned, I met you, my parents, for the first time when I taught you Potions at Hogwarts," Harry said.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I think you can spare them more than that, Harry. And for the benefit of the younger part of our audience, I would like you to tell the story of your mother competing with her daughter-in-law for your affections back in the day."

Lily glared at Bellatrix as John made disgusted noises, Rose giggled, and Sidra sighed. James was still making faces at the dinner plate.

"Let's talk about politics!" Sirius said.

"By all means," Harry said, welcoming the topic change.

"So, what are your plans?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know," said Harry. "What particular Ministry post are you angling for?"

"I've always wanted to go to America. I hear that there is an empty ambassador post, there." Sirius said.

Harry shrugged. "I'll talk to Andrew Foxe and think about it."

"What!" Leo exclaimed. "I don't want to go to America."

"You can stay with Harry and me," Bellatrix said. "I'm going to buy a townhouse in London, and we will live there until Ravenbourgh is rebuilt. Rose can even move in if she wants."

"No, she won't!" Lily exclaimed.

Sidra rolled her eyes. "It's inevitable, mother. Rose has planned to marry Leo for years."

Rose blushed.

"Let's stay focused on politics," Harry pleaded. "If any of you want Ministry jobs, write me a note telling me what job you want. Also, tell me if you know anybody who would be good for a position. If your qualifications are good enough, you'll have yourself a paying job."

"How soon are you going to be making your decisions?" James asked, finally pulling his attention away from Bellatrix's sub-par "cooking."

"I'm going out of town for a few days," Harry said. "When I get back, I'll start moving things forward."

"Where are you going?" Lily asked.

"To an undisclosed honeymoon location," Harry said, smiling in Bellatrix's direction.

Bellatrix was also smiling.

"I don't want to know about it," John said. He gestured to his empty plate with a fork. "Is there any second helpings?"

"Check the freezer," Bellatrix said offhandedly.

"I knew it!" James exclaimed.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

As soon as the last guest had departed from their flat, Harry and Bellatrix gathered up their luggage and prepared to depart for their honeymoon. Instead of directly departing to their honeymoon destination via portkey, they first apparated to the ruins of Ravenbourgh—or rather, what was left of them. Bellatrix had already set construction workers to clearing away the rubble from the crumbling manor.

"The construction manager said that they will be able to use the old foundation," Bellatrix said to Harry. "It was in good enough condition that they need only do a few minor repairs. I have told the architect to base his plans off it. The interior floor plans and materials will be different from the original manor, though."

"You should have them incorporate electricity and other Muggle things we might like," Harry suggested.

"Yes, I had already thought of that," Bellatrix said.

Harry nodded, and the couple stood, surveying the once and future manor and its neighboring cemetery. "It'll be a lot of work."

"Yes, but I think I will relish the challenge and opportunity," Bellatrix said as she produced one of Harry's Rubik's cubes.

"Let's get going, then," Harry said.

Epilogue

Approximately fifteen years after Harry and Bellatrix's honeymoon . . .

DAILY PROPHET

Bellatrix Black Inaugurated as Minister of Magic

Astoria Greengrass, Special Correspondent

In a ceremony anticipated by many throughout these past years, Bellatrix Black, the Chief Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries, was elevated to the Ministry's top office yesterday morning. She succeeds Amelia Bones, who last week announced her intent to retire and accept a teaching post at Hogwarts.

Minister Black is the third Black to hold the post in recent history. Older readers will recall Cygnus Black's tragically short tenure in the 1970s, and all readers surely will recall with fondness the two-year tenure of Minister Black's husband, Harry Ashworth Black, who retired from the Ministry prior to embarking on a brief, but highly successful, Quidditch career with the Chudley Cannons.

Harry Black and his daughters, the infamous Black Triplets, were present at the ceremony but unavailable for comment. Leo Black, speaking for Black family, declared that the Blacks are pleased to once again be able to contribute to the public good.

Minister Black III has yet to set a clearly definable public agenda, unlike Black I who sought to stop Lord Voldemort and Black II whom the Wizengamot elected with a mandate to end the war and rebuild magical society. Black III's silence has not prevented political commentators from speculating, however.

"The economy," said Andrew Foxe, a retired politician. "Bellatrix's natural talents and inclinations tend toward increasing wealth and financial stability."

Foxe's comments are likely accurate. The Black family's financial holdings have increased dramatically in past years as Minister Black, acting through various financial managers, built and expanded powerful corporations in both the magical and Muggle communities.

Minister Black III is not without critics. "We're looking at a Minister who will be incredibly corrupt," Amos Diggory commented. "Ostensibly, she has entrusted the welfare of the Black financial empire to Leo Black and Draco Malfoy, but she will be conscious of their actions and likely will not be able to resist using her power to interfere."

Others have expressed concerns that Black III's pureblood background will result in her walking back many of the reforms enacted during the tenures of Black II and Bones. But, Arthur Weasley, Head of the Muggle Commission, was positive. "She doesn't have an agenda to take us backwards. She has always zealously enforced and upheld the law. I've already spoken with her and am excited about many new developments that you will soon hear about."

See page 5 for a history of Ministers Black I and Black II.

See page 8 for opinion pieces.

FIN