A/N: Hey all, told you I would be speedier, and here it is, chapter nine! Oh whoopee! Anyhoo, had a shift of narrative perspective in this one, but all in the name of getting the story across, plus, I was getting bored of Harry's mind. Waaayyyyyy too dark in that boy's head, if I didn't stop now, I might end up needing serious therapy more than I do now.
Hope you like it!
Quick note: "Excessum ut proditor" is Latin that should mean, loosely translated, "Death to the traitor". "Perlustro ut mortuus", also Latin, should mean "Look to the dead."
Okay, carry on.
Disclaimer: I must say, it would be fun to own anything save the plot of this, but I don't, henceforth, it ain't mine.
*****
From the Mouths of Babes
It was unusually quiet in the shadiest part of Knockturn Alley as Bellatrix Lestrange made her way through the grimy streets to the meeting place. The leprous vagabonds who were oft to be found wandering its streets at all times of day or night were gone. Auror patrols and curfew had taken care of most them anyway, and the many "businessmen" who were their company. But tonight, not even a starved dog crossed the narrow, near claustrophobic streets. It was something that made her uneasy.
She scoffed at that. Since Draco's capture she had been uneasy, the chance that the fool might slip up and get himself killed was too great. The nastiness of the Unbreakable Vow she had somehow managed to swear to her sister made it even worse.
Sometimes it just didn't pay to be a witch.
But the primary cause of her unease tonight lay not with her foolish nephew or the deserted streets. It lay instead, with the person she was about to meet, the person who had contacted her out of the blue with irrefutable proof of their authenticity, the person who now wanted to meet her, alone, in a derelict building in the worst part of the bad alley, and what they promised to her, was almost too much to refuse.
Harry Potter, his filthy, Mudblood girlfriend and a Muggle child all wrapped up in a neat little bow.
Well, maybe not with the bow, but all in one place so that they were easy pickings. The failure to kill her in France had annoyed Bellatrix greatly. The few she had sent, together with a French group, reported that she was no where to be found when they invaded the house. Instead there was a Muggle couple who claimed no knowledge of anyone known as "Hermione Granger", killing them was inadequate compensation.
Well, that was until they learned that they had been her parents. It was impossible not to know this after the funeral, and the rumours that ran rampant about her and Potter in the newspapers.
How could she then, possibly fathom a reason not to trust them? This was what she had waited for all along, a perfect chance for revenge for her fallen master.
But she also was not stupid.
In the shadows were her "friends", the few that remained, and if anything was amiss, the unlucky trickster would most certainly pay with his life. It was curious enough that he had come about to contact them in the first place.
No one save her nephew knew where they went to meet or hid. It was a closely guarded secret, kept by the Fidelis Charm, and even he would not be so foolish as to even allude to that to anyone. There were many loyal to the Dark Lord who could harm him, and she would see to it even at the cost of her own life. But when she had mentioned this to her soon-to-be host he had merely asked, "Who? Oh him," and laughed.
For his sake, he had better be true.
It was dark tonight. The moon was waning in the black, cloudy night sky and at these times it was hardest to see one's way in the alley. Generally, in the daytime it was hard to distinguish the time along its dimly lit streets, but tonight it seemed extra so. It was almost with a sense of foreboding that she continued on her brisk pace through the streets then. A summer chill, after that afternoon's rainstorm, had set in too, and she gathered her battered cloak round her tighter.
As her nephew so often dearly noted, they were once accustomed to finer things than this.
In less time than she would have liked, Bellatrix was at the entrance of the meeting place. A derelict old building that had once been a store with apartments above, as with many of the places in the area, it seemed to barely be able to stand as it was. It reminded her of Severus' house in Spinner's End, and that was another capture she did not want to dwell on.
Within days of it occurring months before, Lord Voldemort was dead and he was "safe" in a cell in Azkaban. All immediate plans for further attacks on the Wizarding and Muggle worlds were then thwarted at heavy prices. She imagined him then settled comfortably as he confessed, while she and the others ran for their lives. She hoped his death painful and slow.
Brushing aside these thoughts now though, she went up to the heavily repaired but nevertheless decaying front door, and knocked three times before whispering, "Excessum ut proditor."
How fitting a password.
Almost immediately, the door swung open into the deepening darkness of the house and Bellatrix actually scoffed. If her host thought he could scare her with that, he was sorely mistaken. The former right-hand mistress of the Dark Lord was above paltry parlour tricks.
Stepping in with her nose in the air but her wand drawn, she walked carefully through the ground floor to the stairs, her way lit only by her wand, and then up to the room where her host awaited.
If this was a trap it should have fallen by now. In the dusty, cobwebbed silence of the house, she strangely felt her confidence grow. When she was actually standing before the door, she almost knocked at the door impatiently. At first though, there was no answer.
What was this?
She knocked again, irritated at how her heart had seized a moment, and this time the door opened into a room flooded with light. But when she stepped in and caught the first glimpse of her host though, she paused and gasped, "You…?"
He rose from his seat at the window where he had apparently, casually observed her arrival. Taking time to sweep the wild red hair from his face, he gave a sickly smile and replied, "Yes Mrs Lestrange… Bella won't do now would it? Never mind that, yes, it's me, and I assure you, we have lots to talk about."
She backed into the door and said, and with annoyance at the fact that her voice was unsteady as she did, "This is not possible, this is a trick…"
"No… no trick… I wouldn't dream of trying to trick you, I wouldn't survive it, I don't think I did the last time either… now do have a seat, a woman as talented as you should not stand cowering at a doorway. You and your company have nothing to fear… yet anyway…" he replied coolly.
He walked to her at the door, conjured a chaise lounge and gently made to take her to it but she refused his hand went herself. He gave that sickly, almost arrogant smile again, before taking his former position at the window.
After a long silence descended without any effort to begin on his part, she asked confused, "I… I thought you wanted to talk?"
"Oh I do," he said, as if suddenly recalling this fact, "but we must be careful that we are not interrupted, and I don't trust your company too much at the moment. Why not let the Aurors do their job from the safety of this room?"
Her jaw lowered in surprise but he merely smiled at her, "Maybe I should amend my first statement, you have nothing to fear, they were not part of that arrangement."
"I could kill for this," she managed eventually, after another moment of silence had fallen, in a threatening whisper.
He nodded, "You could… you did once, as I just reminded you, but then you would be dead before you even drew your wand."
Leaving her to ponder this then, he casually turned back to the window to observe the scene about to unfold below. And all Bellatrix could do, was sit still and listen.
*****
Seated on the front steps, her new bicycle lying on the lawn, a book loosely held in her left hand, Emmeline stared lazily out at the neighbouring children occasionally riding past. Tired of sitting around in the quiet house, watching the same old shows or her sister's glum mood, she had slipped out for a bit to catch the day going by. Once she was there though, she had gone no further; she could not bring herself to completely leave the house.
Behind her, Hermione was in the study reading from a large book she had found at the bottom of the shelf nearest the window. Harry kept the blinds in the study drawn at all times now; her selection had probably been an excuse to get near it.
If it had been though, Harry had already seen her. He had been watching both their movements for the past two days now anyway, how could she expect that he hadn't?
Just before she had slipped out though, Harry was not watching her. He had gone into another room and stuck his head in the fire, the Wizarding way of making a phone call, to the Weasleys. With both preoccupied then, simultaneously watching and avoiding each other, there was no one to watch Emmeline. She was glad for that, even though Harry didn't mean to, he still had a sad look in his eyes when he looked her way.
Maybe he should have had a happier birthday.
Out here on the shaded steps, looking at the still overcast sky and listening to the air devoid of birds and wind, it was much nicer than within. She didn't have to think much about that day. She didn't want to, it was not true and she would not believe it… and not even for that small voice that was growing in volume in her head telling her otherwise.
It simply had not happened, this was all a very strange dream, that's all, and when she woke up in the morning, she would be in her own bed while her mother called her for school.
She wished she was strong enough to really believe that too.
Yawning a little, Emmeline leaned her head back against the door and felt goose pimples rise as a sudden, nippy wind blew past her. It was probably going to rain soon, great, she hated the rain, and she was not going back into the house.
With her eyes closed, she heard the sounds of the squealing links of the bikes of the others. The children were coming round again.
If this was High Wycombe she would be up and off these steps and riding with them. On her new bike she would not tear her jeans, though she was sure some injury would come to them, it always did. And Harry had spent so much to get her new clothes too.
This time though, she was forced to look at the children when one of them said, "Potter? That's the house right there, with the little girl on the steps…"
They were all on their bikes near the corner leading into the street speaking with some unseen person. All of them were older than her, six boys and one girl probably between eleven and twelve. She had seen them since her second morning here and none had even bothered to come over to the house and ask if she wanted to play with them. Not that she would of course, she had nicer friends in High Wycombe, and the house was warmer to be in too. But the fact that they had noticed her existence at all had Emmeline looking anxiously at them now.
The conversation ended and the bikers all raced past the house, not even bothering to look her way, and even when she stared directly at them too. They were just stuck-up little brats, the lot of them.
She did not have to pay attention to them for long though, the stranger who had requested the address was now approaching.
A tall, thin man, with wild red hair and wearing one of those funny black cloaks Emmeline had seen while exploring Harry's closet, and one other time she pushed away, he approached her with smile. Emmeline did not smile back, she did not know him.
He stopped at the gate as if to enter, but then just stood there staring at the house around her. He seemed to be taking in every inch hungrily, and searched with his eyes at the windows. But Emmeline guessed that he must have been staring at her as well, for eventually he asked, "Doing some light reading?"
Emmeline looked down at the book in her hands and nodded.
He smiled again, a strange, sickly smile, before asking, "Are your sister and Mr Potter at home?"
"What do you want?" she asked in reply, still refusing to smile back.
"Oh nothing, aren't we suspicious, though I can understand why… it's… I was hoping that I could speak with them a bit," he replied.
"I don't think you can, my sister's reading and Harry's ringing someone," she said curtly, she wished he would leave.
"Well how about I talk to you then… not for long… just to deliver a message for them?" he asked, now turning fully to her.
She nearly gasped at the blank look in what must have once been very bright brown eyes. His skin was decidedly pale, almost tinged with green and she wondered if her were as sick as his smile. Nevertheless she nodded and rose from the steps to come to him.
He raised his hand to stop her, "No, that's fine love, you can stay there… just please give them this exact message, perlustro ut mortuus, did you get that?"
She stared at him confused, but nodded and repeated it, "Perlustro ut mortuus, yes, anything else?"
He shook his head, "No sweetheart, you're just as smart as your sister… it was only that, have a nice day now."
With one last smile then, and a "pop" he was gone; he apparently was a wizard too, though none like those she had so far seen. Or maybe, hopefully not like those she did not want to think about.
Taking a moment to make sure that he was gone, Emmeline turned and headed back into the house to deliver the message. Hermione and Harry would know who he was and whatever the message meant, it was not for her to care.
*****
Okay, so maybe she was wrong.
This was the realisation Emmeline would come to in the frenzied moments after she delivered her message to the two in the house and described the person who had given it to her.
With almost no explanation, and determinedly ignoring Hermione's protests, Harry grabbed a handful of dust from a bowl above the fireplace and threw it in. At once emerald flames erupted from it, which near caused Emmeline to fall over, and Hermione was sent in first. She actually stepped into the roaring fire as it were the most natural thing in the world. She bellowed an address before dropping a small bit of the dust into the flames that seemed not to touch her and then in a burst, twirled and was gone.
Then it was her and Harry's turn, he gripped her so tight she feared she would choke, and she shut her eyes tightly as the flames engulfed them. And when she opened them again, she was entirely in a different place.
It was the living room of a strange old house with many times patched furniture, strange objects and familiar ones too, which seemed to move of their own accord, a very curious clock with too many hands that didn't tell the time, a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, and Hermione crying in the arms of Mrs Weasley in the centre of the room as they emerged.
This must be Mrs Weasley's house; she had never been here before.
She did not have time to look around though, for Harry was walking briskly with her to the two women and asked quickly, "Where are Moody and Lupin… the Order? Where are they?"
Emmeline had never heard Harry sound so frightened, and his grip on her arm showed that it was not only in his voice. What had she said that was so bad? All she did was deliver a message.
Mrs Weasley was speaking, "They're not here, but Ginny's sending for them… what happened at the house Harry?"
Harry cast an uncomfortable look her way and another to her sister who looked away from him out the window, and then replied, "He came to the house, spoke to Emmeline, actually gave a message… he gave us a message… he's taunting us!"
"Who-who's taunting you?" she asked confused.
Harry seemed to remember that he must not have told her about this and quickly said, "There was someone at the house, someone who's been stalking us since… Ron died… he was at the funeral too, when I had to carry Hermione away. And today he came and spoke to Emmeline… I know I should have told you all about this before but I didn't think that he was dangerous until now…"
That made only one of them, apart from that horrible black cloak, of which Harry also had one, and his somewhat disturbing appearance, there was nothing about him that spelled danger to Emmeline. He had not once made any advances to her during their entire conversation.
Mrs Weasley's eyes though, widened in apparent horror, with still a bit of the anger that had arisen when he told her about the funeral, and she went to Emmeline at once and clasped her to her chest and began to cry, "Oh dears… you poor, poor dears…"
Through a mass of wild, red hair that reminded her of the man she had spoken to earlier, Emmeline saw Harry speaking to Hermione. She could not hear them clearly but the snatches she got pieced into a broken sentence, "Tell me… he's real… does he want… do you remember?"
But before Hermione could reply, a short, but pretty red-haired girl with brown eyes and slight reddish scars on her hands and one on her neck entered and said, "The Order's coming… oh hello Harry… um, what's going on?"
Mrs Weasley released Emmeline from her embrace but walked on to the girl and said, "We'll discuss that when the others come, let's go into the kitchen, all of us, and get something to eat."
Hermione turned back into the room, and said quietly, "I'm not hungry."
To Emmeline's surprise, Harry glared at her.
Almost at once she amended her statement, "Um… I don't think Emmy's had anything since breakfast, whatever Moody and the others are up to could take a while…"
That was new, since when did Hermione take orders from him, and why?
Moments later, they were all seated uncomfortably round a battered old long table while Emmeline bit into a large sandwich. Mrs Weasley made it almost before they were all seated and though offered one, Hermione refused it politely. Seated between them, Emmeline felt it when Harry, and rather childishly at that, kicked her beneath the table. Hermione had had the grace then, to drop her head and bite her lip, and no one else seemed to notice a thing.
The four adults, despite the fact that they were each surely bursting to say something, sat silently. Mrs Weasley and the girl who was apparently Ginny, facing her, Hermione and Harry and she wondered how long they would last like this until someone cracked. Just to test them further, she began to drum her fingers on the table as she chewed.
Hermione reached up and closed her hand around Emmeline's and said, "Stop that."
Then Mrs Weasley spoke up, "Harry… why didn't you tell us about this before… you could have all been hurt…"
"I know," said Harry, looking every bit like a child being scolded by his mother, "but I didn't realise the danger until now, all the time he was just staring at us, I forgot about it after the… the funeral… and now he comes to the house and speaks to Emmeline…"
Mrs Weasley gave him a look that was somewhere between disappointment and concern, before Ginny spoke up, "You know that we're here for you, you didn't have to go through this alone."
Harry gave what was surely a half-hearted snort, "This wasn't about me, my parents weren't killed recently, I'm not the one keeping secrets, I don't know what happened in the graveyard and I didn't try to run away instead of telling someone like I encouraged everyone else to."
It sounded like a reprimand and partly directed to someone else. In his voice, and strangely, the air around them, Emmeline could feel his anger and frustration. And at the same time, she could feel something else, equally as strong as the first two, but she didn't know what. From her sister though, all she got was stubbornness even before she snapped, "Come off it Harry!"
He retorted immediately, "Come off what, Hermione? He's very real now isn't he? He was standing in front of the house talking to your sister while you sit inside pretending that he doesn't exist and if you stare at him long enough he'll go away! Unless you haven't noticed, I don't think he's leaving love!"
She gave a half sob and turned away from him to look out at the strange door with the window above it. Neither Mrs Weasley nor Ginny said a word.
Mrs Weasley had become completely concerned now, and was staring at them both with a worried and yet curious look. Ginny however, seemed to have a slightly smug look on instead, Emmeline wondered what she had to be so happy about.
And just as an awkward silence once again threatened to fall, the roaring sound of the flames in the living room, rescued them. The Order, or whoever they were waiting for, had arrived.
At once Harry was up and heading back into the living room. Hermione did not move, but Mrs Weasley and Ginny rose to follow him. Unimpeded by her sister, Emmeline went too.
To her surprise, though she shouldn't have been by then, out of the flames now stepped three people.
The first was a tall, greying man with straggly hair and haggard look and a shockingly mobile eye. Once he was out he fixed this eye on Emmeline with a directness that made her rather subconscious. She stepped back a bit to the kitchen thinking slightly, that she had met him before somewhere.
The second man out of the fire was a bit younger than the first, but not entirely. His dark brown hair was greying with an age he did not seem to entirely possess and his face was wearied, though he formed a slight smile for her. She recognised him at once, he had been there on Harry's birthday, and Remus Lupin was his name. But he had not been alone, and then the final person appeared.
A woman who looked not much older than Hermione, Harry and Ginny, with a shock of pink hair today, she had a heart shaped face and greeted, "Hey there kid!" She smiled as before though Emmeline didn't return it. She seemed to be able to change her hair colour a lot more often than most people Emmeline knew.
The three stood dusting themselves free in the middle of the room and when satisfactorily clean, Lupin asked, "What's the matter Harry? We came as soon as we got your message, but there's some trouble in Knockturn Alley…"
Harry cut him off, "Something's happened, I need your help, it's about that man Draco described, the one he saw in the graveyard…"
Someone in the doorway gasped and Emmeline turned to see Hermione standing there trembling slightly, mumbling, "No… no… no… not true… no… it isn't true…"
Harry spared her the slightest of glances before turning back to them and saying, "He's real, and he's stalking us."
"No he's not… no…" Hermione continued even weaker than before, but Harry still ignored her, and Emmeline, in looking at him, suddenly caught her gaze on something.
It was a picture on the mantle above the fireplace. There were many there in fact, and shockingly, all moving, but just the one, just this one, held her attention. As Harry began to explain something that involved letters from her mother, she walked absently to the fireplace and reached up as best she could to get it.
The pink-haired woman, the one called Tonks, turned and asked, "What are you looking for?"
Emmeline pointed to the one she had seen first and Tonks took it down, though knocking over a few in the process, ("Whoops, sorry,") and handed it to her. Looking it over a while, puzzling over it a bit, and especially when the figure within flashed a haughty look and turned his nose in the air, she asked, "Who's this?"
Tonks shrugged, "Don't know, must be one of them," and then lowering her voice conspiratorially, added, "too many of them to know for sure."
Emmeline offered a small smile to show she understood the joke, though she didn't, and then walked across to Mrs Weasley, picture in hand, and asked, "Who's this?"
Mrs Weasley and all in the room stopped at once to look at Emmeline. Mrs Weasley took the picture from her hands and gave a sad sigh, and then explained, "That was one of my sons, Percy Ignatius Weasley, but he… he died some time ago…"
Emmeline looked down at the picture again and found that picture-Percy was now polishing his glasses on his sleeve. That action though, connected to what had drawn her to it in the first place. At once she looked up to Mrs Weasley and shook her head saying, "That's not true."
The shocked silence that followed was quickly broken by Ginny, asking amusedly, "And how do you know that?"
Emmeline turned to look her straight in the eye and replied plainly, "He was the one who met me at the gate this afternoon."
And then finally, it was then that Hermione could take it no more and screamed, "No… no! It's not true! NO! IT'S NOT TRUE!"
The first to her side was Lupin, who looked at Harry confused and then down to Emmeline was as lost as he was. Mrs Weasley and Ginny were staring between Hermione and Emmeline in what could only be bewilderment and disbelief and neither saying a word. Moody was once more staring over Emmeline with his strange eye and Tonks was staring at Hermione as if entranced.
After what seemed like forever, Harry made his way over to Hermione and pulled her up from where she had now slumped to the floor in the doorway behind her sister. He stooped before her, and asked in what had to be the gentlest voice Emmeline had ever heard him use, "What… what's not true Hermione?"
His eyes told that he was having a hard time believing what Emmeline had just said himself, but his concerns at the moment, were fully towards Hermione.
She was now crying softly, "It's not true… it can't be true… Harry… I made it up… I made him up… it's not true… he didn't do it… I made him up… Percy… Percy's dead… it's not true… Harry…"
He drew her tightly into his arms and let her cry onto her shoulder. The rest of the room though, was still largely left out of this conversation. Who was Hermione talking about?
But before the questioning could begin, a head appeared in the flames behind them. It was Charlie, Emmeline remembered him as the big man who had taken her from Hermione when they had come from France and put her in the room. But he did not look as worried as he had had that night. Instead, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding at the moment, he called, "Lupin, Moody… all of you… they've caught her! They've captured Bellatrix Lestrange!"
A/N: Oh dear, another cliff-hanger I suppose, so sorry about that, really I am. You should consider yourselves fortunate though, I was going to cut this somewhere else. Three guesses where. *grins evilly*
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