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.