A/N: Oh my, oh my, what can I tell you about this chapter? Well, it certainly took less time than the last, and was a bit of fun. And is a bit long, but you don't mind that, do you? Okay.
Well now, for the Math lovers, there are simultaneous equations in here… once you read it, you'll know what I mean.
Hmm, nothing else to say… enjoy, and do review please?
*****
We Who are About to Die
It took two weeks, but Emmeline finally came up with a word that fit Grimmauld Place, with all its creepy noises, darkened high-ceilinged rooms and interesting stuffed… wall mounts….
It was morose.
Okay, so it was a little heavy for a nine year old, but for someone with a genius sister she didn't use words like that often. She had some catching up to do.
So yes, after two weeks at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Hermione, Harry's owl Hedwig, a tiny, bug eyed elf-thing called "Dobby", a foul-mouthed painting in the corridor that used the word "Mudblood", whatever that meant, often, and the man with the white blonde hair confined to the upper floors, she had decided that Grimmauld Place was morose, and yet she loved it.
It was like something out of a gothic novel, Frankenstein maybe, or Dracula. She could imagine some ghost or ghoul or whatever wandering the halls late at night while they slept. Or coffins in that cavernous basement kitchen, or a locked room that could only be opened by special key or even secret passageways and hidden rooms where the servants once resided but now evil spirits haunted awaiting some unsuspecting intruder. The Hallowe'en parties they could hold, the sleepovers, the birthday parties… the… the possibilities were endless.
Their first night at Grimmauld Place, Emmeline and Hermione had slept in the same room on the first floor.
It was darkest night in the room, so dark that Harry actually set the tip of his wand alight and left it in there for them. Hermione did not sleep at all after that. She just lay in bed and cried.
In nights that followed, Hermione would sleep, but Emmeline wouldn't.
It was how she came to know of the man in the upper floors in the first place.
When they went off to bed at night, Emmeline would wait until Hermione's breathing evened and then she would slip out of bed to wander the house. With no one save the Order, or whoever they were, herself, Hermione and Harry about, she was free to explore.
Sadly though, there wasn't much to see.
There really were secret and locked rooms, hidden closets of things she was afraid to touch, a large old library of dust covered tomes and the locked attic from which the strangest of noises were heard. The house itself rose for about six floors and then there was the attic, and for a curious child with nothing but time on her hands this wasn't much. Hours at a time of wandering sometimes led her nowhere or to clandestine meetings by the Order or the smaller group of Mrs Weasley, Lupin, Moody, Charlie and Tonks and on one occasion including Harry.
These meetings were often late at night, when they thought that none could overhear, and even then they whispered. Mostly they discussed the man, Percy, who had given her the message.
The message itself was finally delivered the morning after they arrived here. She was rather surprised that she had remembered it at all, especially after what she had just gone through. But she had, and the look that Hermione gave, the confused one where she furrowed her brow temporarily and worried a lip before something cleared a path in her mind, told her that it was important.
Sometimes the meetings wandered unto the topic of herself or Hermione, or sometimes on strange names like "Bellatrix" and "Voldemort" and once or twice on "Draco". At other times it followed Percy again, with long discussions on what exactly his job was at some place they called the "Ministry of Magic".
At one of those moments, Hermione made the connection between the Latin phrase and Percy and exclaimed, and particularly to Harry, "Oh don't you see, I get it now, Perlustro ut Mortuus! It means "look to the dead" right? Well, and I don't know why he would be taunting us like this, but that's what he wants! He wants us to look to the dead, look at the dead, look at him! He's telling us what happened to him!"
Harry had then asked, "But why?"
Hermione's excitement deflated slightly, but she said confidently nevertheless, "I guess it's a show of his arrogance, he wants us to know how he got to this point. Blind ambition needs to be coddled every once in a while."
No one questioned her logic after that.
And then, at another time, they mentioned someone called "Ron", whose name they all uttered with sadness in their voices. She guessed that he was the school friend Hermione had who died.
But it took her two days to find all this.
Her sister confessed that the house once had a lot more than now but they cleaned it up before their Fifth Year at school. It took all her strength to conceal her disappointment then or let on the fact that she wandered the house randomly at night.
But then they barely noticed anyway. Her sister and Harry took her sleeping most of the time in the day as a good thing. And it was sometimes, it made her forget other things… But then there was something else too.
It was almost as if they were scared of the house.
Honestly, didn't Hermione say something about them fighting some war?
She wasn't entirely sure that she believed that bit; nothing looked too much as if any war had been fought. And she remembered the news, watching it some nights with their parents. Apart from a few freak accidents, the weird destruction of a few buildings and odd firework displays over a few homes, there was no war.
If Harry and Hermione wanted to get away from their families for a year after graduation all they had to do was ask.
It was then, on her fourth night out and rather bored of wandering the same cobwebbed halls with horribly disfigured wallpaper and dusty, threadbare carpet, if it could still be called that, she discovered the house's secret occupant.
He was a tall, slender young man, probably Harry's age, with a pointy face, cold grey eyes, sleek, white blonde hair and a pale complexion. He wore robes too, which made her guess he was some kind of wizard, but she saw no wand, and every night she could find him pacing the halls of the upstairs muttering angrily on and on about something.
And what was most wonderful, he never saw her.
She watched him for three nights after this. She had to make sure. And it was a welcome distraction he would become, taking her mind off of her boredom, the fact that the school year was now looming and those other things that came with that.
If Harry, Hermione and Mrs Weasley wanted to know, she had no plans on going back to school this term. She didn't want to get dressed and then be dropped off by anyone other than her parents. She didn't want to come home to this house, no matter how interesting it was, when she knew that her mother or father wouldn't be there ready to set her off to her homework. She didn't even want to look at the books, and she hadn't so far either.
She was perfectly happy learning all these interesting things about magic, pretending that this house was her castle to keep her safe and watching that forgotten boy vent his frustrations late at night. She might even speak to him once if she got the chance, she could use a friend.
And then one night, the tables were turned.
She had not even bothered to go up to the room that night. Hermione, Harry and Ginny had been going through boxes upon boxes of things that had been brought from the "Ministry" and had forgotten all about her in the corner watching them.
They were Percy's things, Mrs Weasley had brought them while rambling on and on with teary eyes. She left Ginny with them to help, and because no one thought this was anything she should not see, Emmeline took a place in the corner with a library book she had stolen from Hermione.
It was filled with the most bizarre illustrations, and to top it off, some of them moved. More than once she had shut the book at the sight of some oddly misshapen creature that breathed ink and paper fire or something at her. On one occasion she near fell out of her seat when one of them gave her a mischievous wink. She actually dropped it altogether when something moved to crawl off the page.
Never again was she going to read her sister's books.
And then the clock chimed signalling her bedtime. Hermione looked up at it at once and said, "It's time to go to bed Emmy."
She made not even the slightest attempt to protest as she scurried out of the room. And then she was half way to bed when she realised what she was doing and changed direction. Hermione and the others looked rather busy in there; she could do whatever she wanted tonight.
Taking the steps sometimes one at a time, and sometimes two, she walked all the way to what had to be the fifth floor, then turned off at the landing and headed along the familiar hall that led to him.
But tonight, he wasn't there. It surprised her.
Every night so far she had seen him up here. He always walked this same stretch of dimly lit hallway muttering to himself and once of twice kicked a door. He always nervously itched at his arm when some strange creaking noise sounded around them at odd intervals. He was always there, and tonight he wasn't.
She walked as far as she dared down the hall then, listening for even the sound of his breathing, and when she came up with nothing, turned to leave.
And there he was standing in her way glaring at her. She nearly screamed.
Biting it back though, she put on her bravest face as he quickly looked her over and then said with a sneer, "You look like that Mudblood Granger, who are you?"
From the way he said that word in that arrogant voice she had a feeling that it was a very bad word. And instead of replying to his question she asked, "What does that word mean, "Mudblood", that lady in the painting downstairs says it all the time."
He looked rather disarmed at that question.
He stared at her then, for as long as he could, like her father did when Hermione would send some cryptic letter, before asking, "What's your name?"
"Emmeline," she replied.
"Emmeline…" he repeated, "Emmeline… you're Granger's…?"
"Sister, I'm Hermione's sister," Emmeline told him, and again tried to look bold.
The way he was staring at her was making her rather uncomfortable.
"Sister… Granger has a sister… are you a witch?" he asked, and dared a step closer.
It took all of Emmeline's strength not to tear off down the hall past him as fast as her legs would carry her.
"N-no," she stuttered.
"No… you're a Muggle then…" he said with finality and then sneered, "Filth, just like her!"
"I'm not the filthy nutter walking around up here kicking walls, talking to no one!" she snapped then before she could stop herself.
He actually stopped in surprise, looked at her wide-eyed and then burst out laughing.
"Granger's sister you must be, to come up with something as lame as that!"
"Lamer than calling my sister a Mudblood, that's a bad word isn't it? That's all you got innit?" she asked, and this time felt as bold as she spoke.
"Go away little girl!" he snapped.
"I don't have to, this is my house!" she retorted.
"No it isn't! This is my family's home, and if it wasn't for my blood traitor uncle this house would be mine and you wouldn't be here!" he said bitterly.
"This is Harry's house! I'd like to see you take it away from him!" said Emmeline, pleased at the indignant look that appeared now.
"I said go away child, I'm a wizard you know, and I could hurt you!" he said dangerously.
"I'm not afraid of you! You can't hurt anybody, where's your wand?" she taunted.
"I don't need a wand sometimes… do you want to die little girl?" he replied, continuing in his dangerous tone.
"I'd like to see you try and hurt me!" she dared.
Before she had time to think he had snatched her up and carried her, and all the while with her struggling furiously against him, to the stairs. He dropped her on her bum at the top of them and said, "Go away and never come back here! If I even see a hint of that lion's mane I'll drop you down myself, the hard way!"
And then in a swirl of robes he turned and stormed down the hallway back to wherever he had come from. Emmeline then stuck out her tongue at his retreating back and began to make her way down, all the while grumbling angrily at her treatment.
When next she would see him she would show him that you didn't need to be a witch to hurt people. She rode horses at school, though Hermione never liked them, and she had her riding crop along with her school things in her room. She would give him the soundest thrashing he ever had in his life.
The next night though, when Emmeline slipped upstairs, he was walking the halls as before, angrily on about something. This time though, he stopped once and said, "I know you're here, go away you filth!"
She didn't move.
She never moved in fact. For the rest of those two weeks Emmeline would climb to the top of the stairs and find him pacing there. Sometimes she would bring food, which he never ate, or a book that he wouldn't touch, or just talk while he pretended to ignore her or until he grew tired of it and dropped her at the top of the stairs with a glare.
And then the last time he did it, just last night, this time he didn't drop her. He put her on her feet and pointed down the stairs.
They were making such brilliant headway. It hadn't been long ago that Emmeline realised that he was lonely up here in the morose old house. Combined with her boredom, they made such a perfect couple.
Too bad it was not to last.
When next Emmeline and the white-blonde haired boy would see each other, one of them was going to die…
*****
Wide awake, Bellatrix Black Lestrange was lying in the centre of the pristine hospital bed in the bare white room on the Fourth Floor ward of St Mungo's staring at her visitors. She was breathing through a tube, with numerous scars healing slowly on her once immaculate skin, her head was bandaged and something was wrong with her left leg, but in her cold, dark eyes there was no fear.
She had never been afraid of them, and especially of the tall, skinny boy in the corner with the messy black hair and that scar on his forehead. But she had no doubt that the four others with him, that paranoid fool Mad Eye Moody, her disgrace of a niece Nymphadora, that over-sized oaf, another of the Weasleys, Charlie, and that dangerous half-breed werewolf Lupin, would not stop at fear to get their answers. Or stop him if it came to it.
What a remarkable waste of time this was going to be.
Didn't they care that she had just woken up? That she had almost been killed by that… that boy…
She tried to yawn, it hurt, but the look of displeasure on the boy's face was worth it. How she would have loved to see him in her place… and just seconds before she killed him.
The others were not amused.
Lupin spoke first, "I believe you know why we're here?"
It was a foolish question, she glared at him.
"Good, then you know that we want answers… that we're not above anything to get them?"
She scoffed and sneered, the Auror fixed his eye on her and she was looked away.
"Good. Why don't we start simple? I'm going to use a charm that will help you speak… and before you even think of it, you have been fed Veritaserum intravenously, there will be no lies tonight, and you will answer." Lupin explained but she did not turn her head.
"Continuing, it may hurt a little, but I assure you that this could be much worse… so now, how about you begin by telling us how this happened to you?"
He pointed his wand at her throat and muttered an incantation. There was a feeling of dryness a moment, so parched that it was painful to swallow, and then there was moisture again. She gasped and was startled to find sound, but then quickly sneered, "Why, so that you can gloat?"
The boy laughed, "I might."
Moody flashed him a look and he fell into silence, though still glaring at her. Lupin shook his head, "No Bellatrix, all we want tonight, are answers, we've been left in the dark too long."
"More than you know…" she said slowly, glowering, and then sighed, "But fine, it's not as if I have a choice now is it?"
Hermione may not want to believe this, but Emmeline was quite sure that she did not like "Dobby" or whatever it was they called that thing that kept house for them when Mrs Weasley was out. As… cute… as he might appear to her elder sister, some people, namely herself, begged to differ. His overly-excited-to-serve manner was annoying, his misshapen little body repulsed her, and the way he would just appear… more than once already she had screamed when he did that.
And then she couldn't help but feel sorry for him too. It always seemed to break his little heart whenever she started at his arrival.
There was to be no mistake about it though. He may have been a faithful little servant, but he was a fright and she didn't like him.
Of course, as luck would have it, the pregnant French lady, also called Mrs Weasley, who she had seen only once so far, had decided to give birth that night and Hermione had rushed off to the hospital with Ginny, Mrs Weasley Senior and a few others to stay with her. Emmeline, who had a cold and therefore could not go, was then left in the care of Harry. And no more than ten minutes passed before someone's head appeared in the flames, a cryptic message was delivered and he was rushing off to the hospital too. But he just had to leave Dobby to watch over Emmeline as he went, and even after she protested too.
It didn't take her long then, to feign tiredness and go off to bed. Well, it was not entirely feigned, she was ill after all.
She had been running a high fever for days and because Hermione, despite Harry and the others' repeated notes that she used magic to heal them, she kept muttering something about Emmeline being Muggle and she wanted to be sure. Oh, she better hope Emmeline never got some magic in her; she would deal with her nicely.
She made a point then, of ignoring Dobby's disappointed face as she went.
Now though, and she blamed her conscience, she couldn't lie still. She felt sorry for him, the ugly little thing, and her mind raced with wild images of him punishing himself for making her upset. If she didn't do something soon, her guilt would give her nightmares. And in this dark room, where Harry finally had managed a small night lamp with a stencil shade that revolved so that the shadows of witches and stars and other magical things were cast on the walls round, would not do if that happened.
Finally, throwing off the covers, and still fighting against herself as she did so, she sat up and found her slippers. She would go outside, apologise, make sure he was alright and understood that she wasn't angry, and then go back to bed.
It was as simple as that.
Satisfied with this, she rose from her bed, taking up her bathrobe as she went, and made her way out to the hall.
Not quite believing what he had just heard, Harry rose from his place in the corner and went closer to bed, interrupting Lupin's question to ask, "You mean to tell us… that… Percy did this to you?"
All eyes turned to him; Bellatrix herself narrowed her eyes and said in that old, annoying voice "Is the wee bitty baby Potty afraid…"
He cut her off, "Stop it! You bloody mental crone! You say that Percy did this to you? Why? I thought you two were working together, wasn't he in France?"
She gave a distinctly unladylike snort, "Working with us? Working with us? I killed him in the first place! The only thing that that boy wanted was me dead! Too bad for him he failed! Of course he was just an incompetent little buffoon anyway… his father had more courage in him than he…"
She stopped when Charlie, suddenly, alarmingly rose out of his seat and made to go to her. Moody's wand was drawn and flicked towards him immediately, Harry and Tonks had to pull Charlie back to his seat.
Harry had not really been conscious of the rest of her speech though, his mind was practically swirling at the thought that he could take away some of Hermione's guilt. Even though she and Emmeline looked okay, he wasn't sure and didn't want to get his hopes up. For him there was never any doubt though, she had not led them to France behind her…
Lupin took over, "He was the one who lured you to Knockturn Alley wasn't he?"
"Of course," she replied coldly, "I didn't know it was him at the time though… he wanted revenge for the attack on the Ministry. Ranted on and on about the interruption of his plans… But they were asking to be killed anyway, we got in way too easily, I heard his father was responsible for that. Such love…"
Charlie made to move again, but was still being held down Harry and Tonks, and now Lupin had a restraining arm on him, so he said, "You bitch!"
She was completely unfazed however, "When we arrived at the Ministry, on our master's orders, we attacked. We found them in one of the offices, killed them and destroyed the building. There was little resistance. I thought they were all dead, but apparently two escaped, and one did this to me. I'm quite sure he won't live long though, I still have many friends."
"Yes, in Azkaban where they can't do a damn thing!" Harry told her triumphantly, unable to resist.
Lupin then interrupted her retort, "You say plans? We've been looking at his work before he died, what plans?"
Emmeline had practically searched the everywhere in the lower floors of the house for the little elf and had still come up with nothing. He was not in the kitchen, the living room, the parlour, the library or even cleaning out Harry's room as usual. He couldn't have just vanished into thin air… okay maybe he could, but that didn't mean that he didn't go somewhere else.
He couldn't just be no where.
And was it just her or did this house become even scarier when mostly empty on a moonless night?
Then she had remembered another way to look, and tried at calling his name. That didn't work either, and even after she walked through all those same halls and rooms too, calling as loudly as she could. Maybe you had to be a wizard to work; it always did for Harry and Hermione.
When she had finally exhausted all options, and that including searching for a bell and knocking on random walls, she decided that she had something else she could do tonight. As far as she knew, no one had remembered the boy upstairs tonight; she could go talk to him.
She turned at once and headed up the stairs to the now familiar upper floors.
"He had been rambling on about something we ruined. Said my nephew had done the same thing to him too once before… by the way, how is Draco?" asked Bellatrix.
Lupin took on a stern expression, was pensive for a moment, ignoring her question, and then asked, "Draco had ruined something… is this about Hermione?"
At the sound of the name Bellatrix gave a sickly smile, "Yes, that's her, Potter's Mudblood girlfriend if I recall." And ignoring Harry's attempt to protest, "He claimed he needed her for something, that she was the only one who could help him, dared to say that she was cleverer than the Dark Lord. If that were true though, she would have been born a pureblood and not the spawn of filth!"
Lupin continued to ignore her insults, and the others' reactions, and asked, "Did he tell you why he wished Miss Granger's assistance?"
She looked at him as if he had gone mad, "Of course he wouldn't! But he did say something about her being able to figure it out… that she was his only hope… that the Dark Lord could have used her help, and that his brother was a fool to think that he could stop him!"
"He's pursuing Hermione to help him… help him do what?" asked Harry, trying to stifle the image of Percy murdering Ron, a bright smile on his face as his brother slumped before him….
"Haven't you been listening you stupid boy?" she said slowly, "I don't know."
Harry took a step closer to the bed, "He can't get to her, and he won't ever get to her! He doesn't even know where we are, but I'm sure I could get him to you…"
Bellatrix arched an eyebrow, and then took a slow breath.
"There is something about him… something that is different… something that you can't comprehend… or maybe you can but choose not to…. If he wants the Mudblood, he will get her!" she said slowly.
At the top of the stairs at last, and for the second time for the night Emmeline was to be disappointed, the boy was not there. As a matter of fact, it was so quiet she could distinctly hear her own breathing, and no trace of his. Maybe she had come too soon.
Great, now she just would have to go to bed early tonight.
She turned to go, but paused when she heard a soft thud in the hall behind her. She returned to the top of the stairs immediately and bravely headed down the hall towards it. If he thought he was going to hide from her tonight, he was to be greatly mistaken.
As she rounded the corner, and realising too that she had never gotten this far into his space before, she stopped cold.
She had just found Dobby. And he looked… dead.
"Different, how?" asked Harry.
"I would think that you would know, don't you have the much sought after Miss Granger at your side… why isn't she here by the way?" asked Bellatrix.
She was trying to bait him and Harry warred with himself not to take it.
"You said something earlier that has me confused… did you say that you killed him? Percy?" asked Lupin, trying his best to continue the interrogation.
They had a lot more to talk about tonight than just Percy but they were already greatly sidetracked as it was. To make matters worse too, Bellatrix was beginning to look fatigued.
She answered anyway.
"Yes. When we got into the Ministry, at first no one seemed to notice us, they were too busy looking on at the argument between the Muggle-lover and his son. We took them by surprise; I myself killed the boy… I was therefore rather shocked when I saw him again. I thought it was only Potter over there who could survive the Killing Curse."
"He survived it? Is there a scar? A mark or some indication that he did, are you sure…?" asked Lupin, leaning forward in his seat.
"I'm very sure!" she snapped, "That boy is dead!"
Emmeline didn't want to move an inch. As much as she didn't want to admit it, and she was glad no one was around to see it, she was terrified. The thing, the little elf-thing, it was dead! It had dropped dead!
She stared down at it in shock for as long as she could before her horror took over and she turned and ran back to the stairs. She didn't care to find the boy again. She didn't care that this probably meant she was alone in the house with him and he didn't like her. She didn't care that she wasn't watching where she was going; she was going to get away from here.
Where was it that Hermione had gone? The hospital was it? And through the fireplace too though that didn't matter, Emmeline had seen them do it too many times already that she could do it with her eyes closed. She would get some Floo Powder, get into the fire and scream the name of the place as loud as she could.
And then she ran into something just before she reached the top step and fell backwards.
"Ow! Why do you do that? Now let me pass, I'm…" she stopped and looked up into the blank, dull eyes of a tall man in dark robes. It couldn't be and yet it was.
It was Percy.
The door of the room suddenly opened behind the group and a stone-faced Healer poked her head around. She took one look at them, and then to Bellatrix on the bed and declared, "Out!"
At once Moody protested, "We have permission!"
"She needs her rest, I don't care what you have, and I want you all out of this room now!"
"We have important matters to discuss!" growled Moody again, rising and turning to her.
She made to reply but Lupin stopped the argument before it began, "No, we can leave now… she looks tired, we'll come back later."
Harry was upset, "I don't care!"
"We do!" Lupin said seriously, "What good is she if she's dead?"
"Perfect!" Harry snapped but rose and, pushing brusquely past the Healer in the doorway, left the room anyway.
Lupin gave Bellatrix a parting glance, just in time to catch a sneer, and then rose with the others to follow him out.
"Hello there little one, the little Muggle, we meet again, Emmeline was it?" asked Percy above her.
Emmeline was still looking up at him from her place on the floor. She had to find a way out, if never before she was afraid of him, this was the time now. She could feel her heart racing painfully in her chest.
Where was Hermione? What about Harry? He promised. He promised her and then he left her behind! How could he do that after he promised?
After a time passed and she had not replied, he stooped closer to her and said, "Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to love, but don't worry… here we go, up you stand, let's go see our mutual friend shall we?"
He had helped her stand, his clammy skin icy against hers, and was now half-dragging her down the hall from which she had just run. He was going to the boy, she was sure of it, and she couldn't stop him.
And then, as if by a miracle, she was saved.
A voice from the other hall, the one that turned off to the right, called, "Hey you, what're you doing up here? Where are you taking her?"
Percy smiled, and then turned round to face him, "Well, well, well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy."
"Yes, it's me, what do you want? Where are you taking her?" the boy demanded angrily. If it were not for their situation Emmeline would have been happy he noticed.
In reply, all Percy said was, "That was a very foolish thing you did in the graveyard you know?"
Recognition and horror dawned on the boy's face across the hall from them, and Emmeline knew they were doomed.
But to her surprise, this time she wasn't afraid.
"Harry!" called Lupin, finally finding him heading to the stairs to go down, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to check on Fleur, Hermione and the other's are down there," he told him.
"Harry… I thought we should discuss what Bellatrix said, she was under Veritaserum, do you know what she implied?" asked Lupin.
"Yes, she… I have to check on Hermione." Harry said.
"Harry…" asked Lupin again.
Suddenly, the boy turned on him, eyes more terrified than he had ever seen, "He wants her… he's stalking her because she can help him… he wants her for some reason… I… I… I just…"
He turned again and headed back down the stairs. He was on the fifth when a shout sounded above him and he was forced to turn back.
"You… you… it was you!" Draco stammered and then suddenly rushed forward, startling them both, and grasped Emmeline. At once he took off to the hall that led to the stairs, cursing all the while that they had not given him a wand.
Emmeline didn't say a word the whole time. He was glad for it, for once she was silent. She was Granger's sister through and through. Every night now since he had foolishly decided to stop her stalking she would come to talk to him. The child was clearly lonely and didn't understand that he didn't need company.
And now, he had risk his own neck to save her filthy life. And to do it he had to touch her putrid little skin too, which was warmed by fever no doubt. Perfect, Potter and the others would pay for this, and the price was high.
They were down one flight and then got no further.
Suddenly, Percy was standing before them on the landing and with a sickly smile, he said, "Where do you think you're going?"
"You're supposed to be dead! Auntie killed you! What are you?" Draco asked, though with horror realising that he had an idea.
Draco took a step back and stifled Emmeline's scream as Percy raised his wand and trained it on them. There was a shouted incantation, a flash of green light, and the world fell into darkness.
Harry burst open the door to Bellatrix's room and then immediately wished that he hadn't.
The once, powerful dark witch, faithful servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort, was now writhing violently, her back arching in agony, on the bed where moments before she had been calmly mocking them. The Healers who had poured in at the shout were left standing round the bed in shock.
Harry didn't need Lupin's confirmation a second later to tell him that something was wrong. He could see it.
And then there was the first slash.
It was like someone had tied a piece of nylon round her wrist, stretched it taut and then snapped it away. It cut through her pale skin with such violence that blood squirted out, spattering the bedcovers and walls in ghastly crimson droplets.
"Oh no…" said Lupin weekly, "The Unbreakable Vow, the…"
Harry's mind was not working properly though, for he remained there in shock as the other wrist was cut as the first and Bellatrix let out an almost unearthly scream.
Somewhere in the rooms below, Fleur was probably screaming too, but that was in childbirth. This… this with Bellatrix, this was death.
And then there was a sudden stillness, though Harry was sure, and dreaded, that it was not over. Bellatrix seemed to know this as well.
She fell back unto the bed, almost resigned, and didn't even flinch as the last string tore out her throat.
But she said something.
Through the silence of the room, and in the presence of the stunned Healers and Harry and company, she said three words, "Perlustro ut Mortuus."
Harry shouted at her then, "But we are, we are looking at Percy!"
She choked on her own blood, but gurgled out a reply, "Not him."
And then she was dead.
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