Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Basically, yorick28 found the "X" that marked the spot. XD This is for you.

Chapter Nineteen - Reflections Of

Hermione read Bellatrix's note for the nth time, trying to make sense of each line and verse. The ink Bellatrix had used was red and Hermione shuddered at the thought that it was red like blood.

It's not blood. If it were, it would've faded to brown by now. Oxidation and all that…

Still, the color was chilling.

Further research about Bellatrix turned up documents of a false identity under the name Alberta Xenias Tilde.

Alberta X. Tilde… Bellatrix D.E. Bellatrix, Death Eater.

I should've figured it out. For God's sake, I play these games with Angelica all the time!

Hermione pounded her fist lightly against her forehead and immediately put a stop to that train of thought. How could she have known? How could she have thought that the Alberta Tilde signed at the bottom of a greeting card from long ago, with her well-meaning "Thanks for saving the world" and the seemingly benign gift would be Alberta X. Tilde, rearranged to form Bellatrix D.E.?

All these years, she's been mocking me. She's been-

Again, she ceased that train of thought. Draco had gotten the worse end of the deal. Draco had been fooled, worse of all.

Right under his nose, Bellatrix had somehow gotten him to support her financially and forced him to risk his very welfare so that she could survive.

With relatives like that, who needs enemies?

It somewhat amused her that the very reason she believed Draco wasn't lying about any of it was because he was a completely selfish asshole. Then again, she also believed him because she saw that there was sincerity behind his concern for his mother. It was all very twisted, and Hermione was amazed that she actually understood the workings of the Ferret's mind.

Under pain of suspicion, Draco was still in Auror-department custody, until it could be proven in court that he had no knowledge of his association with one of the most notorious Death Eaters of their time.

Before they left the Ministry, Draco had requested to have a moment with her. Harry had such a sour look on his face that she was sure he was going to say something.

She tightened the line of her lips instinctively, warning him wordlessly to take caution in what he was about to say. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation that made her so bitchy.

She jutted her chin to convey that she had already decided she would grant Draco's request.

"Yes?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he had grumbled.

When Hermione went to see Draco, he was already behind bars at the temporary holding area. He stood when she arrived, clutching the bars with whitened knuckles.

Draco was decidedly less threatening, especially with the sores and boils on his face, but he seemed determined to spit out what he had to. "I'd like to make sure I can get my mother back. Vouch for me and maybe they'll let me go with you."

Hermione sighed. "You know I can't do that. It's not like they put you here on a whim, you know. You're here under suspicion of associating with a Death Eater."

Draco banged his palm against the bars in frustration. "You know I'm telling the truth! I'm not helping Aunt Bella!"

"Yes, but that's not for me to decide. I'll testify on your behalf at your hearing-"

"The last time you did that, I spent a year in Azkaban!"

Never mind that he would have spent five years if it hadn't been for her testimony.

Hermione refused to be sidetracked. "And there's a multitude of proof to remove all doubt of your innocence and set you free without spending a day in Azkaban. You'll have your preliminary hearing tomorrow. Until then, you have to stay here."

Draco reddened, suppressing frustration, no doubt. He just stood there, breathing for several moments, until he finally ground out the words. "If you make sure she gets back, I'll make it worth your while. I'll pay you-"

Instead of getting angry, she felt compassion for him. She knew he was friendless, and he probably felt he didn't have much of a right to ask her for anything, but she never ever forgot what Draco had done for her, and the bits and pieces of humanity he had let her see in him the last couple of weeks had slowly, but surely began to whittle away some of her previous prejudices for him.

"Draco," she said in a quiet tone, pressing her fingers delicately to his hand for a brief moment to cease his rambling.

He stopped talking instantly, looking at her with genuine surprise. He was completely stripped of any of his seemingly unshakable arrogance.

She pulled her hand back, having gotten the desired effect. "You don't have to pay me anything. I was already planning to get you your mother back, even without you having to tell me."

His cheeks reddened. And just as quickly as his arrogance had gone, it returned. "I'd get her myself if you stupid lot would just let me go."

"I'm sorry you can't go, but you'll have to trust me this time. Can you trust me, Draco?"

He pursed his lips.

She saw a faint glimmer of what might be construed as gratitude, and just when she thought Draco would actually say, "Yes, I trust you," the hardness of his eyes returned.

He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, pulling out a chain with something dangling off it. He took off the chain and poked his hand through the bars. Hanging from the chain was an emerald encrusted ring cut in the elaborate image of a snake looped several times, its head and tail pointed outwards in both directions. "It's mother's. She used to always wear it when she was-when her mind was still whole. Sometimes, she has moments of lucidity and she always asks for it then. Take it. She might ask for it."

Hermione wondered if Narcissa's sanity would even factor into this mission, but again, she was bowled over by Malfoy's show of human emotion. She took the ring, chain and all. She wondered briefly if she should wear it around her neck. Hesitantly, she did. Malfoy made no protest.

She hid the ring under her shirt. The last thing she needed was Harry asking questions about it.

Draco's grey eyes glowed with renewed haughtiness. "You bring her back no matter what. Dead or alive, bring her back."

Dead or alive… if Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have thought Draco cold enough to feel nothing, one way or another. "I will. I promise."

His gaze on hers was intense, as if to say. "I'll remember your promise." It was almost like a warning.

She left to rejoin the others.

Harry didn't even ask what Draco wanted. He just led the way back to the house as they left Tonks to make quick preparations for the rescue operation to Skye. They took the emergency hallways to avoid the reporters. It was also a quicker way out.

Ginny followed after them. "I want to go with you."

Ron was not pleased. "No. Absolutely not."

Ginny ignored Ron and got in Harry's face as they walked towards the exits. "I won't screw up like last time, I swear."

That struck a strong chord of sympathy in Hermione and she looked to Harry for his response.

Ron looked confused. "What?"

Harry appeared to be thinking. "You can come, but no heroics Ginny."

The stubborn set to Ginny's jaw loosened for a second. She almost smiled, though she didn't. "I'll do what you and Hermione tell me to do, I promise."

"Oy!" Ron cried. "What about doing what I say? What about you staying home and-"

"Shut-it, Ron," Ginny hissed.

They continued to argue and Hermione found it surprisingly soothing. It kept her from sinking into debilitating worry, she realized. If she concentrated on their banter, she didn't have to think about the million things that could go wrong, and hopefully, by the time they got home, she'd have a calmer mind.

They Apparated to her flat and found Fleur waiting for them at the steps of the backdoor while Julien played in the small backyard.

Hermione was surprised to see her. She began to think about how to tell Fleur that this wasn't a good time.

Before she could speak, Fleur beat her to it.

"Somzing is `appening. I can feel eet," Fleur said, standing at the foot of the steps. "I want to `elp."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why don't we just call my parents and the rest of my brothers? Make it a Weasley excursion."

Ginny cast him a warning look.

Fleur glared at him in turn. "Angelica is not with you. She is in trouble, no? Is zis about Death Eaters? Bellatrix? Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed. "Fleur-"

"Zey are ze reason I `ave lost my `usband. Zey are ze reason my son `as not `ad a father ze last seven years. You, `Ermione, should understand zis most of all."

There was nothing Hermione could say to that. Her silence was consent enough for Fleur.

Fleur called Julien over as they piled into the house.

Harry, seemingly unbothered by Fleur jumping into the fray, went straight for a parchment and quill. He quickly scribbled something, signed it, and went to the window. Hedwig appeared straightaway and the Harry rolled the note into a scroll, tied it with twine, and tied it to Hedwig.

Hedwig took off and Harry watched her fly away.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"To Avalon," Harry said by way of explanation.

"Are you going to wait for them to reply?"

He looked disturbed. "There's no time. It's either they show up or they don't." With that, he left to go to his bedroom.

Hermione sighed, watching him go.

"Avalon?" Fleur demanded. "What does he mean by zis Avalon?"

Hermione didn't have time to explain. She asked Ron to fill Fleur in while she followed Harry to his room.

He was staring out the window-or perhaps he wasn't looking at anything at all, but when he looked up and saw her come in, he seemed dismayed.

"Harry-"

"You saw me," he said quietly.

She stood close to him and touched his hand. He latched on to it--gripping; clinging.

"In the interrogation room," he continued. "You saw that thing inside me. I told you about it, remember?"

And she did remember that he had told her about it; that entity that really wasn't separate from him; that extension of him that his Horcrux-restored life had awakened, and she remembered seeing him in the interrogation room, his eyes glowing that tint of red that couldn't have been a trick of the light. She had seen him smile a malevolent smile; had seen the way he gained pleasure from hurting someone else and frightening others. It hadn't been Harry. Even Tonks, standing with him in the room, referred to it as someone else.

Yet, Hermione recalled Harry's words, how it wasn't someone else; it wasn't a possession. It was him. It was that part of him that wouldn't have been so strong if they hadn't used such dark magic to bring him back. And then she remembered how Harry kept saying-had convinced Ron even-that that part of him could hurt her and Angelica.

Hermione shook her head. She had seen it, but still couldn't believe that even that thing could hurt her. "You can control it. I saw how you can contr-"

His hands tightened around hers. If he squeezed any harder, he would hurt her. "That was nothing. I've had my potions recently. The effects of the potion are still relatively strong, and that was only Draco provoking my temper. There's still Bellatrix to face; possibly even Voldemort. I don't know if I can control myself when that part of me convinces me-even proves to me, that I need its power, and that I can use it to get what I want. Right now, I want to get Angelica back safe and sound. I want her to be alive and well with you, but… but that half of me… it might twist that desire into something else-something horrible. It's how it works through me. It doesn't tell me that evil is a good thing. I would never believe it that way. It would tell me to use the power it offers to save Angelica. It would tell me I could vanquish my enemies and live happily ever after if I just used it this one time, and if I do, if I give in, it could consume me and I would be unable to fight it. Do you understand?"

Hermione felt that ingrained stubbornness jolt in her. "I've believed in you since I was eleven, Harry. There's nothing you can say that-"

"That day in the kitchen," Harry interjected, his face growing inexplicably red. "When we-on the counter."

A warm flush rose up her neck and cheeks, and it wasn't embarrassment. She smiled as she felt her stomach knot with desire. "We'll have more of them, I hope."

He swallowed. "You didn't know it, but it was that other side of me m-making love to you. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control myself. It wasn't a different man, but it wasn't the man you knew. I couldn't look you in the eyes that time, because it-it hadn't been about love. I told you it was but it wasn't."

She didn't know what he expected from her, but she felt none of the repulsion she supposed he wanted her to feel. Her eyebrow arched and she met his gaze without flinching. "And that's supposed to frighten me? Harry, whatever side of you it was, it was still you-"

"That's not the point," he growled. "The point is that I couldn't separate that part of me from who I really am, even when it's you. Even when it's for something as intimate as-"

This is ridiculous. "Then maybe I have an evil side just like you do, because that had to be the best damn sex I've had in my life. Even like that, Harry-even if you say that it hadn't been love, I felt loved. Maybe while we were doing it, it was rough and crude-a shag so bad that it was so good."

He stared at her, his jaw dropping slowly.

She went on bravely, feeling she was on a roll. "I love you, Harry, deeply, and I know you love me just as much. A two minute fuck between us isn't going to make me forget that. Do you understand?"

He tried to say something but apparently couldn't.

She had finally shut him up. "I know what it is you're trying to tell me. That side of you is unpredictable. I saw that. I understand it a bit better now. And yes, for Angelica, I will watch out. For your peace of mind, I promise I won't take that side of you for granted, but you have to trust my judgment the way you trust Ron's. My faith in you has made me do incredible things. So trust me. You have to. You might not have a choice."

He clamped his mouth shut and the intense look in his eyes softened. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her gratefully before he leaned back and dug something out from the pocket of his jeans.

"It's Bellatrix's note," he said, unfolding it and handing it to her. "Read it and tell me exactly what you understand of it."

She took it and read it. She understood that Bellatrix was asking Voldemort's Horcrux in exchange for Angelica, but when she looked up and saw Harry urging her further, she read the note again, letting all the words sink in, and something like pure dread began to settle at the pit of her stomach.

~~

"A fragment for a fragment asked,

Both mirrors-one dark, the other light,

Both reflects; both cleverly masked

Both hidden prettily in plain sight…"

~~

She read it and her hands grew cold. "Why is she referring to Angelica as another soul fragment? Like she was a Horcrux? She's mad, isn't she Harry? This is-This is the ravings of a lunatic."

Harry paused. "I've-I've thought of that. `A fragment for a fragment.' She calls them both mirrors. Voldemort's obviously is… but Angelica-she isn't… not literally. Anyone who sees her knows immediately who her father is. She's… I once thought of her as the best part of me; all the bad things sifted out of her. A reflection of light… hidden prettily in plain sight."

Hermione felt her heart beat faster. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"I wondered," he whispered. "Why we shared visions. I wondered how I could see her in my dreams without knowing who she was. I wondered how we could be connected between dimensions and how our visions existed all these years side by side, separated by a wall and how that one time she crossed over and my visions tried to devour her. I've only ever seen that connection once."

Hermione watched him, waiting for the worse.

He took a deep breath. It trembled. "It was between me and Voldemort, when I was his Horcrux. It was the exact same thing, except Dumbledore protected me, and my doors were kept closed until fifth year when Voldemort found a way in and I had to learn Occlumency. I learned to put up walls and barriers. Voldemort was always at the other side of them trying to get in…"

"Harry… but the sword," Hermione cried. "That's your Horcrux. You told me it was your Horcrux!"

"Yes, but… I and the priestesses only assumed… there was no way to find out for sure!"

"Snape used it to bring you back!"

"Snape used it as something to bring me back but we don't know if it was because it was my Horcrux or if it was because it was the thing that created my Horcrux. There are many ways to cast a spell, Hermione, and it just so happened Snape used the way through the sword. I've tried to call my soul from it. I've tried and tried and it never worked. I felt such horrible pain, and we all assumed it was because I intended to destroy my soul fragment and the soul was resisting my efforts. But now that I think about it-God, it's Excalibur! It makes sense, doesn't it? I couldn't call out my soul because it wasn't my soul-or whatever's in the thing-to call. Besides, why in hell would it let a mortal, measly soul fragment like mine squat in its-"

"Harry! It isn't-"

"Like that? Perhaps it worked true to its prophecies, Hermione, that it would bring a champion back to save England, but it doesn't mean it would let itself be a Horcrux. A Horcrux is a vessel. It's a glorified container! And everyone expected Excalibur would-? Good God, why didn't any of us think of this before? It reacts to me the way it always reacts to its bearer. It has nothing to do with being a Horcrux. It has everything to do with being the sword that helped Arthur create Camelot. Excalibur was never a Horcrux. It was a means to an end, just like it always was." He stopped and took several deep breaths.

Hermione realized she was crying. "Angelica can't be your Horcrux. She can't be…"

Harry didn't reply. "I can call my soul out of her. I can. Just like Voldemort-"

"Voldemort had to destroy you to call out his soul!"

"Don't say that," Harry said fiercely. "He didn't have to destroy me! He wanted to. It's different with Angelica. She's my daughter. I care about her. I'd kill myself before I hurt her in any way." He stopped and a dark cloud fell over his features. "I'm sorry. You're right. I was just telling you to be afraid of me, and so you have every right not to trust me with our daughter."

Hermione shook her head, suddenly feeling cold and shaken at a sudden terrible realization. "Oh, Harry, no… I'm scared that-oh, don't you understand? Don't you remember what the Lady of the Lake told you that night she gave you the sword?"

His expression of despair turned into confusion. "N-Not particularly-"

"She told you to bring the Unnamed Soul." Her eyes were pleading for him to understand, but he clearly couldn't. That sense of frustrated urgency became more potent in her belly.

"I can't-"

"You brought the last Horcrux with you to the lake," she said. "And you told me that the lady told you to bring the Unnamed Soul. You assumed it was Voldemort's Horcrux-you know? He Who Must Not Be Named?"

Harry hesitated but she could see that the memory was beginning to reshape itself in his mind. "Yeah… I remember now. I brought the locket with me. Expected she wanted me to use the sword to destroy it right there-"

Hermione shook her head again. He still wasn't getting it. "She wasn't talking about the Horcrux, Harry. She was talking about the soul inside me. I was already pregnant. I was carrying an unnamed soul…"

A stubborn look crossed his face. "No. No way. That meant she assumed that I knew you were pregnant, and I didn't know. That meant-"

"It means many things, Harry," Hermione said hoarsely. "And I'm not sure which is fact and which is theory, but what I'm most afraid of is the possibility that the Lady intended to set Angelica up as your Horcrux through the sword; that she knew you were going to die and needed to be brought back from the dead; and that she knew how in Angelica, that fragment of your soul would be most protected…" She finally burst into sobs, burying her face in her hands. She felt her heart twist, and she realized that she felt betrayed by Avalon. "This is a nightmare! How could the Lady do that? Use another human being like that? How could-"

He held her, his firm embrace meant to be reassuring, though he seemed as helpless for answers as she was. "I don't know. I don't know…"

"You said only good things could come out of Avalon."

"Yes. And I still want to believe it. I can't-I can't explain the reasons for what the Lady of the Lake did, but I want to-I need to believe it's for a good reason. Or else…" He sighed. He didn't know what to say. "All I know for sure is that we need to get Angelica back safely. And after we do, Voldemort's Horcrux must be destroyed. For now, that will have to do."

Suddenly, Hermione wasn't so certain. Suddenly, there was every possibility that she was going to lose everyone she loved.

If anything happened to Angelica, she would die.

Have faith, she told herself. Have faith…

But the words felt like meaningless echoes against the deep caverns of her fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron found Fleur in the Burrow's kitchen tying twine around some healing herbs and stuffing it in her small travel pack. Molly was upstairs, putting Julien to bed while Bill lay still in the room the Weasleys had set up to accommodate him in his comatose state.

Fleur had left Hermione's house to go to the Burrow and make arrangements before she could go with them to Skye. Ron had followed her shortly after.

As he observed Fleur, he saw that there was a determined look on her face, like years of suppressed vengeance was ready to explode. She was radiant with self-righteousness, and she'd only ever come close to looking that way back in Ron's fourth year, when she was the Beauxbaton Tri-Wizards champion.

She hadn't aged a day since then. Matured, yes, but she was still blindingly beautiful, as if pain and tragedy had never touched her.

He stood at the entryway for a moment, wondering if what he was going to ask of her wasn't too much-wasn't too selfish.

I need to do this.

"Fleur," he said.

She looked up, and for a moment, he was struck by the dazzle of her welcoming smile. Then the dazzle waned, and Ron had to remind himself to keep his wits about his Veela-blooded sister-in-law. She had knocked him practically unconscious during his fourth year, when he had dared (or rather didn't dare) to ask her to the ball, but since Harry's death seven years ago, she'd been nothing but nice to him. Almost felt like he was her favorite among her brothers-in-law.

He only figured out why a few years ago: Fleur found him endearing. She liked that he took care of Hermione and Angelica. She thought highly of him for staying by Hermione's side, in spite of the fact that Hermione did not return his feelings. She saw herself in Hermione: The real father of her child absent, yet her child wanting little in the matter of paternal affection.

"Ron," Fleur replied, her smile not wavering. "You look worried."

For a moment, he couldn't tell if she was joking, but she seemed to laugh at the confused look on his face and he smiled back, finally.

"Yes, well, lots of things to worry about, as you can imagine." His stomach roiled at his worry for Angelica.

She closed her rucksack and approached him, squeezing his shoulder. "Zey forget zat you are as worried as zey."

He was surprised with what she said-even more surprised that he knew exactly what she meant.

He stammered a reply. "I-It doesn't matter, really. All that matters is helping to get Angelica back-"

She squeezed his shoulder again. "You are a good man, Ron, and you `ave matured much, despite what `Ermione may think of you. I am also sure zat `Arry would have very much appreciated ze concern you `ave for `is daughter, except zat `e is understandably distracted right now."

"Understandably," he replied automatically. He struggled with himself. He didn't want Angelica's kidnapping to be about his feelings in the least. He didn't want to be thinking miserably that Harry and Hermione had each other for this-that his own worry for Angelica was irrelevant, even if he would give his life to get Angelica back safely.

Yet here was Fleur, calling him out and letting him think it was alright to have such selfish thoughts.

"'Ermione appreciates your concern, as well. I wish, for your sake, zat zey `ad not really forgotten your feelings in zis matter, but I cannot blame zem, either, so I will remember for zem." She took Ron in a comforting embrace. "Angelica will be alright. We will get through zis."

Her embrace was a comfort indeed and he closed his eyes, letting himself feel that pang of hurt-the painful reality that since Harry was there, Hermione didn't need him, and that he had no recourse but to keep his feelings to himself. That Fleur understood, without judging, was a balm, and it was so much easier to let his hurt feelings fall away.

When Fleur finally pulled away, she pinched his cheek like she would her brother. "Ah, I love Weasley men. Ze lot of you are honorable and brilliantly red-headed. `Ave you seen Gabrielle lately? She is becoming almost as beautiful as me, no?"

Ron blushed painfully. "Shut it, Fleur. I am not going to date your little sister."

"You cannot blame me for wanting ze best for my Gabrielle. Now, Julien is all settled in and we `ave made our excuses to Mama Molly. Are you ready to go back to `Ermione's `ouse?"

With that, Ron remembered what he wanted to talk to Fleur about in the first place.

His brows furrowed and he hesitated visibly.

Her brows furrowed in return. "What iz eet?"

He decided to just blurt it out. "I want you to stay here and not come with us to Skye."

All of the good will she had shown him froze like ice in her gaze. "Like I said, you are an honorable lot, but I am not blind to your flaws."

"Fleur, please listen-"

Her chin hardened. "I will not. Bill wished, too, zat I would stay `ome from battling wiz Voldemort's army seven years ago. I did not listen to `im and I `ave no reason to listen to `is little brother. I `ave a score to settle wiz zat creature-"

"Then you're doing this for the wrong reasons, don't you think? We're here to get Angelica back safely."

She nodded resolutely. "I know you do not doubt my concern for Angelica, and I am confident zat you, `Arry, and `Ermione will make sure Angelic is safe, but in ze meantime, I will administer some much needed revenge."

"I need for you to stay behind because if-God forbid-anything happens to me, Hermione, and Harry, you're the only one I could trust to take care of Angelica."

Fleur stopped and instantly, her eyes watered. "That is not fair, Ron. That is-"

He felt that stab of guilt; knew instantly that he was asking too much, but it had to be done. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't be asking so much from you, but there's no one else I could trust. Mum will take care of Angelica, but she's too old to be starting over with a new child. I couldn't trust my brothers for it-Charlie and George are too set in their single lives and Percy has a family of his own, and don't even get me started on Ginny. You're the only one, Fleur. And what will Julien do if something were to happen to you, too?"

For a moment, she suddenly looked outraged-that he would use her son to convince her, but the anger dissipated, and Ron was afraid she was actually going to burst into tears, but she didn't.

Instead, she took on that quiet dignity that she learned from years of caring for Bill-loving him when everyone had told her to move on. "For year I `ave told myself zat bitterness will not bring my Bill back. It eez ze mantra I live on. It eez how I can give my son ze love `e deserves and `ow I `ave managed to stay ze way I am-beautiful; not hateful. Grateful; not resentful. Now I know zat was an easier attitude to maintain when zer was no possibility of Voldemort to destroy all over again. Zis evening, wiz ze news you `ave given me of Angelica's kidnapping, I felt such vengeance inside me… at last, I can avenge my Bill-and Julien, who grew up wizout a papa."

Ron tried not to be so disheartened by her response. She wasn't going to stay. She was going with them and he would have to worry about Angelica and Julien's lives after the confrontation-about the possibility that all their parents wouldn't make it out alive.

But then Fleur nodded, setting her backpack down. "You are right, Ron. I did not think of my son. I did not think of Angelica. Bill… would never forgive me if our son grew up an orphan. And Julien will never forgive me if I leave Angelica to the mercies of uncertainty. I will stay here. I will pray you all return safe."

Ron could only breathe a sigh of relief. He gave her a grateful embrace. "Thank you."

She squeezed back and stepped away, fishing through the pocket of her rucksack. "If you need my `elp, you must summon me. `Ere."

Ron found himself palming a mirror and knew at once what it was. "It's a Two-way Mirror."

"It's for Julien and I. Ze other half is wiz Julien right now. And as you know, I love mirrors." She actually grinned at this, and Ron supposed that Fleur was entitled to make fun of her own vanity, even if the other half of the joke wasn't a joke at all.

He grinned back.

She shrugged. "It cannot be `elped. I always like what I see."

He pocketed the mirror. "Thank you. For everything."

"You come back to us wiz ze rest of zem, Ronald Weasley. You are my favorite Weasley, next to Bill and Julien."

Ron cocked a smile. "I'll give it to Julien, but Bill?"

She laughed. "Well… you are prettier, though not by much."

Ron shrugged. "Everyone's a critic."

Her laughter dwindled though she remained smiling. Melancholy settled in her gaze, her deep concern obvious. "I am serious, Ron. Take care. Just because I am `ere, it does not mean Angelica-and ze rest of us, can spare you. And even if `Ermione cannot love you ze way you want `er to, she will be ze most devastated if anything should `appen to you. Est-ce que tu comprends ce que je dis?"

His French was shaky, though better than before when he didn't have a nephew and sister-in-law to help him along from time to time, but this phrase he had heard her use a lot, usually addressed to her son after she had lectured him for his mischief.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

Ron nodded. "Je comprends."

"Bien." She kissed both his cheeks and stepped away, sending him off.

He turned and left, hoping it would not be the last time he saw her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry remembered the landscape like it was yesterday.

For one, nothing much had changed. Except maybe for the two shepherd shacks doubling as bus stops, perhaps, put up in the distance, everything was as plain and dirt-road worn as it used to be. No trace of the battle that took place there seven years marred the landscape.

He crouched to the ground, taking a handful of loose earth. There was no remaining magic. No tingling of death and destruction. There were only the mountains, the sky, the land, and them.

"We were in a circle of fire," Hermione said. "I remembered thinking it was what hell must look like."

Harry shook off the soil and it scattered in the blowing wind. He stood amidst them-Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.

The Aurors were hidden from sight, blocking off the area to make sure no Muggles strayed into the scene. Tonks had ordered the Aurors to keep out of it until they were told to get involved. Bellatrix had a hostage and they didn't know how she would react to the presence of Aurors. It was best for the Aurors to lie low until they knew more.

"Hell's a lot worse," Harry said. Before Hermione could say anything, he went on. "Listen, Bellatrix isn't just going to give Angelica up, is what I'm thinking. That would be too easy. She'd want to kill me, and-and she'd probably want to kill Angelica, too. She knows that as long as she doesn't have Voldemort's Horcrux, we have some kind of leverage and Angelica can't be harmed. She knows that if she so much as lays a finger on Angelica, all bets are off, so she'll be careful until she gets Voldemort's Horcrux in her hands."

"We remember the plan, Harry," Ginny said. "We'll stick to it, and so she'd have to go through all four of us to get to Angelica."

"All I'm saying is that she can surprise us, too," Harry said.

Ginny nodded. "We understand. You worry about Voldemort. We'll worry about Angelica. We promise not to let you down."

Harry cast Ron a meaningful look. Ron said nothing but Harry knew Ron understood. In spite of his talk with Hermione earlier, Ron was still Harry's mole. He and Ron had an understanding all their own. Ron would make sure that Harry can't hurt them.

All the bases are covered, Harry told himself. There's nothing left to do but wait and see what happens.

He felt the weight of the sword on his back and the satchel on his side. He prayed they could pull it off and get Angelica safely back. He hoped Bellatrix would not be as troublesome as they expect her to be.

Harry stepped towards the clearing, the mirror in a sack slung across his body by its straps.

Hermione stepped back in line with the rest of their companions, her lips pursed. Her wand was grasped tightly in her hand-he could tell by the whiteness of her knuckles.

Ron stood close beside her.

As he walked farther away from them, he felt more and more alone. He only dared to stand exposed for so far. He didn't want to be such an easy target that they would lose any chance they had at getting Angelica back unharmed.

The sun was just about ready to rise in the horizon, and in a few minutes, it would be bright as day, but when it began to grow colder, Harry was brought back to that forbidding darkness seven years ago.

The sharp, icy freeze of Dementors was unmistakable. They brought shadow and gloom wherever they went and Harry could feel the happiness seeping from his fingers. The fog came with them and it crawled along the ground like a serpent before spreading, knee-deep around them.

On instinct, he raised his wand, poising himself to cast a Patronus, but the gloom held steady, its heavy atmosphere near, but not getting any nearer.

The Dementor-brought fog parted and Harry could see several hooded figures.

It surprised him, that Bellatrix should have companions at all, then again, the last war couldn't have possibly wiped out every single Death Eater in existence. The key leaders and followers, yes, but it was reasonable to suppose that there were many quiet supporters of Voldemort's cause who simply bled back into society at the defeat of their Lord. Perhaps those few finally found the seeds of active revenge, having possibly lost relatives to battle and prosecution.

Bellatrix, appearing at the center of the flock, was not hooded. She held her head up uncovered and proud. She looked slightly older, but she still reeked of the same manic loyalty that had made her so valuable to Voldemort before.

"Did you bring the mirror?" Bellatrix asked.

"Where's Angelica?" he demanded.

Bellatrix smirked and made a summoning gesture.

A figure hobbled out from behind the row of dark robes. In front of the figure a little girl struggled futilely against the hands that held her. It was Angelica.

Angelica looked up and Harry saw the tears streaking her cheeks. She looked unharmed, but Harry could see the fear and misery.

She's only six… and it broke his heart to think that. His little girl was brave and intelligent, but to deal with the likes of Bellatrix could not have been easy, especially not when the only adults Angelica knew were caring and kind.

The figure holding her was a familiar face. It was Narcissa, older and much less elegant than Harry remembered her to be. Her eyes were blank, but her grip on Angelica was strong.

Imperius.

"Daddy!" Angelica cried, trying to break free. Narcissa yanked her back roughly. Angelica gave a yowl of pain.

"Easy!" Harry yelled, shooting Bellatrix a threatening glare. "You don't have to hurt her!"

"Show me the mirror," Bellatrix said.

Harry reached into his sack and pulled out the decorative pouch the mirror came in. Careful not to touch the Horcrux, he peeled back the pouch to expose the mirror and its unique design.

Bellatrix's eyes glowed.

Angelica gasped. "D-Dad, no…"

"It's going to be alright," Harry said, snapping the pouch back securely around the Horcrux.

"Give it to me," Bellatrix commanded, holding out her hand and waving her wand.

Harry whipped out his own wand and deflected the summoning charm Bellatrix had cast. "Give me my daughter first."

Bellatrix glared at him and stepped forward a few feet before looking to Narcissa. "Cissy, make the exchange."

Narcissa's eyes glowed green for a moment and settled back to its zombified blankness. She began to walk forward, bringing Angelica with her.

Angelica feverishly began to pull them towards Harry and he felt the urgency to hold Angelica in his arms; to have her safe.

Harry walked towards them, keeping a firm eye on Bellatrix as he did so.

He reached and Angelica was there, her arms clinging to his neck even as Narcissa kept a firm hold on the scruff of her shirt.

"Gerrof me!" Angelica yelled at her.

"Give her the mirror, Potter," Bellatrix said.

Harry held the pouch tight in his hand and gazed intently into Angelica's eyes. It pained him to do what he had to do, but he had to make sure she wasn't some polyjuiced version of his daughter. "What was that first nickname I called you?"

Angelica blinked in surprise.

"Quickly," Harry said.

Angelica smiled through the streak of tears. "Baby girl. You called me baby girl."

His heart leapt.

He slipped the mirror back into its pouch and held it out to Narcissa, and as soon as her hand touched the pouch, she let Angelica go.

"Open it, Cissy. Look into the mirror's glass," Bellatrix said.

He stepped back, Angelica in his arms. Her grip on him would have choked him breathless if she were any stronger.

Narcissa did as she was told and opened the mirror. The glow that emanated from the mirror's surface was dark and putrid and Harry had to turn away, wrapping a protective hand on Angelica's head.

Angelica stiffened in his embrace, gasping. "Daddy…"

She feels it, too.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It's alright…"

The feeling grew dense and Angelica squirmed, her restless twitching slowly building to violence. The grip of her fingers on the back of his shirt dug into his skin and he had an irresistible urge to turn and run-to take her away from the oppressive darkness of the magic, and just when he was about to tell Narcissa, "You have the mirror! Now leave us alone!" she turned to her sister who nodded. Narcissa clapped the mirror closed.

He felt the dark presence ebb to a manageable annoyance and Angelica settled down in his arms.

Bellatrix seemed satisfied, gesturing for Narcissa to head back. Narcissa lumbered back to her sister, mirror in hand, and Bellatrix fell upon it, taking it greedily into her hands and opening it to look into its reflective surface.

Bellatrix's smile was malevolent with glee, and as she looked up at Harry in satisfaction, he felt a chill run down his spine.

Harry knew he couldn't let her have it and he wasn't planning on letting her get it that easy. He just needed to hand Angelica over to her mother and he could put his plan into action.

"Dad?" Angelica whispered.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"No…"

"Good. You're going to have to go with your mother now, alright?"

He turned towards Hermione who was already walking towards them, Ginny and Ron covering for them both with their wands.

"I'm so sleepy, dad…" she said, slowly going limp in his arms.

Bellatrix's laughter shot through him like a spear, terror spreading from his chest.

They'd done something. Harry knew in his heart that something was terribly wrong.

"Angelica?" he cried in alarm, shaking her lightly-harder when her eyes began to close. "Angelica!"

Hermione voice was frantic as it reached him. "Harry? What's wrong? Harry? Harry!" She broke into a run just when Harry began to understand what was happening.

Harry fell to his knees, shouting for Angelica to stay awake, for her to fight the lulling effects of whatever potion they had given her. He half laid her on the ground, holding her as he listened for the beat of her heart.

She was breathing; her heartbeat was strong, but she had fallen completely asleep now, which was what he feared.

He looked up at Hermione as she ran towards them.

Harry could barely register the events. He was so numbed with terror-that something awful had happened to his daughter.

He saw Hermione, Ginny, and Ron rushing to get to them, just before they were engulfed in flames.

No. Not them. Us…

Fire erupted all around. It was an all-too familiar ring of flames, thick and consuming. It was a fiery cage that kept all hope out while keeping death close in its burning embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny screamed as she felt the rush of heat lick at her cheek. She felt someone yank her back and she fell on the dusty earth. She instinctively began to kick with her heels to get away from the wall of inferno rising higher as it raged.

Someone grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, pulling her to her feet so they could move even further away.

Her eyes watered and smoke began to cloud her lungs. She coughed and covered her nose as they backed up, away from the flames.

It was only when her mind cleared from the shock of it that she realized what had just happened.

She stared at the spectacle in horror, wondering if Harry and Angelica were still alive beyond these gates of hell. She could feel that familiar presence; remembered the feeling of being in the presence of evil disguised as good; remembered those nights she was roused from sleep because Angelica was dancing with the devil in her dreams. Ginny also remembered what it was like to lose her soul, one promise at a time to the innocent seductions of Tom Riddle, to give and give without realizing that she was getting nothing in return.

He's got her. We have to get through the fire. We have to help Angelica.

Hermione's scream snatched Ginny out of her thoughts. Ron had his arms around Hermione, holding her lest she jumped heedlessly into the flames.

Ginny felt her eyes fill, watching the painful despair on both their faces. They had seen this happen before. They had told the same tale countless times.

Hermione's screaming died down, her heavy breathing the only indication that she was fighting back tears.

Death Eaters and Aurors clashed around them and Ginny ducked at wandfire. When the Dementors began to close in, Patronuses rose out of thin air and galloped through the darkness. She looked frantically around for shelter and grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his shirt.

"We can't stay exposed like this!" Ginny cried above the rising din.

Ron nodded, following her lead and turning back only once to grab Hermione who was seemingly rooted to the ground.

Sheer panic drove Ginny to help Ron drag Hermione with them as they rushed for cover.

Hermione was not going to go easy and Ginny thought that if she kept on this way, she would get herself, and perhaps even all of them killed.

"Hermione, please!" she cried forcefully. "Neither Ron nor I could think this through. We need you, dammit!"

Though Hermione's breathing remained rapid, she had stopped struggling and held Ginny's gaze. When Hermione finally nodded, Ginny sighed with relief.

Ron looked beyond their hiding place. "Death Eaters are holding out better than we anticipated. They're determined to prolong this…"

"We need to get through that wall of fire," Ginny said. "Think, Hermione. How are we going to do it?"

Hermione tore her gaze from Ginny. "I-I need-" She squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to remember something. Succendo Obvallo… "The anti-apparition wards are thick and heavy. We can't pop through the other side. Water-"

"Tried that before. Didn't work," Ron said, lips pursing.

"God, I need a book," Hermione said senselessly.

Ron nodded. "Which one?"

Ginny frowned. "Quit being stupid, Ron. What, are you going to just summon the book out of thin air-"

"Yes." He dug into his pocket and fished out a mirror. "It's a Two-Way-to Fleur. She can look up whatever it is for us."

Ginny was impressed with his quick thinking in spite of herself.

"Good man!" Hermione cried. "Get Fleur on and tell her to look for counter curses to Succendo Obvallo…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry held Angelica close as he turned from the flames. Across them, from the other end of the circle, stood Bellatrix and Narcissa. Bellatrix's wand was out and her grin was one of anticipation. Narcissa stared blankly at nothing, awaiting orders.

Hatred roiled in his stomach. "I'll kill you."

"I expect you'd want to," Bellatrix said. "Did you like the poem I sent you? I've had it for years and I was counting the days until I could send it to you."

"You and your stupid Dark Lord poison everything. You're insane and he's an abomination-"

Bellatrix grinned. "Abomination, is he? Not like you-such a pure example of a blessed existence."

The sarcasm grated on him, but it hit home. "I don't claim to be better than anyone else-that's the difference between me and your boss."

She laughed and her gaze turned to Angelica.

Harry's hold on Angelica tightened protectively, and before he could say anything more, Angelica stirred in his arms.

His heart stopped, and keeping a cautious eye on Bellatrix, he looked down at Angelica's face.

She was waking, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"Baby girl," he said, keeping his panic at bay. "Are you alright? Speak to me."

Angelica looked up at him and for a moment, all she could do was give him a blank stare, but then a smile began to spread on her lips.

Harry was struck by the oddness of it. A smile had been the last thing he had expected, and yet…

"This… isn't quite what I expected."

Her voice. It was hers, but a deep, demonic tone overlay the childish one.

His shock and dread paralyzed him and all he could do was stare. Her eyes glowed distinctly red and on instinct, he tried to scramble away, but before he could do so on his own, a force pushed him away, sending a bolt of electricity shooting from his chest to the rest of his body.

He fell back several feet and stumbled, doubling over on the ground as he moaned in pain. As the agony waned, he cracked his eyes open to see what had become of his daughter.

She stood by Bellatrix as Bellatrix handed her a wand. Angelica's glee was nothing like he had ever seen before. It was full of intent-evil and twisted. She pointed her wand at him and fired. He used all the strength he could muster to jolt away from the spell's path. It missed him by mere inches and a cloud of dry earth burst into the hot air.

Angelica giggled. "I suppose I'll need practice. It has been quite a few years after all."

"Angelica," he cried, pushing himself up to his hands and knees. He wouldn't believe Voldemort had her completely. Angelica was better than Voldemort; better than Harry. If anyone could fight evil, Angelica can. "Sweetheart, don't listen to what he says…"

"Quiet, boy." Angelica fired another curse and this one caught him on the leg.

His leg twisted beneath him and he heard the crunch of bone. He howled in pain, falling to the ground again, but he refused to be defeated so soon. He looked up, trying another tack. "Angelica, can you hear me? It's your father. Your dad!" he rasped as forcefully as he could.

Something-perhaps that reference to father, brought something down in Voldemort's defenses. The malevolent gleam disappeared from her eyes and Harry knew it was Angelica again.

She dropped the wand and she tried to run to him. "Daddy!" But the dark light returned and took her in a heartbeat. She froze and twitched violently as she screamed "Silence! No more of this!"

Harry took advantage of this momentary weakness. "Sucks, doesn't it? Never knowing how it is to have a father like she does. Yours didn't want you."

Tears pooled in Angelica's eyes as anger filled them. Bellatrix tried to go to her-perhaps to soothe her, but Angelica shrugged Bellatrix away violently, breathing in outrage at the indignity Bellatrix had almost dealt her. Bellatrix cowered in fear.

Harry thought with amusement that though Angelica's mind was possessed by a powerful, aged dark wizard, Voldemort now had to deal with the fact that biologically, he possessed the body of a six-year-old little girl.

The amusement must have shown on his face because Angelica began to look dead angry.

"You laugh," she said, her voice now calm. "But she grows weaker by the minute. I have her, and soon I will own this vessel completely. I will own part of you, as well. I would have that old connection we used to have-without the bother of being inextricably tied to you. She is your Horcrux. You wouldn't dare destroy me."

Harry felt revulsion at this thing inside of his daughter that couldn't comprehend emotion if it bit him in the face. "If I could, I would destroy my Horcrux in a heartbeat. It never was and never will be about my Horcrux."

Angelica's eyebrow arched in mild surprise. "Oh, of course. How silly and unfeeling of me. It's my face…." All traces of evil melted from his features and were it not for that pinprick of red in the pupils of Angelica's eyes, it would've been Angelica again, looking innocent and malice free. "My voice." She had spoken without the demonic second-tone, and Harry feared it was because Voldemort was beginning to gain more control of her.

"Were it not for your weaknesses, Potter," said Voldemort, his voice returning with barely a hint of Angelica's tone left. "You would've destroyed me already." He almost sounded like a mentor, driving a lesson home. "I know you've seen what I've seen-immeasurable power and its desirability above everything else. Only those of us who dared to harness the dark arts in its highest form would ever understand what it is like to be immortal."

Oh, yes.

Harry blinked back that horrible voice inside of him. He recalled this Voldemort-the one who was intelligent; practically sane-the genius who held him in that castle by the sea speaking to him like a reasonable, brilliant man.

You see, he can help you. It's why he hasn't destroyed you.

"No!" Harry cried, growing more frightened. "I was and never will be like you, Tom. Our parallel circumstance in life doesn't necessarily mean we're the same-or can be; your choices and mine make us leagues and leagues different from one another."

Voldemort took a deep breath, as if to control his temper. "Resisting will only drive you mad. It's too much to lose for something that could have been a gain of enormous proportions."

"Like I said-we're not the same."

Voldemort's lips pursed a moment before the determination on his face returned. "Then you are left with a choice, Potter. Destroy me and your daughter, or I will destroy you. I have no doubt that you will choose your daughter above yourself."

"Always. I will always choose my daughter over myself," Harry said in a quieter tone. The fires and its intense heat roared in his ears.

"Pity." Voldemort raised his wand.

"Pity yourself, Tom. You will never know where true power lies."

Voldemort's eyes glowed with momentary bitterness, then decision. "Love bears false promises. It has never served me."

Harry refused to speak about love with someone who thought it should serve him. All Harry could do was tighten his grip on his wand as he tried to think of a way to defeat the monster inside Angelica. The problem being was that Bellatrix was there. Even if somehow, he managed to destroy Voldemort without hurting Angelica, Bellatrix would very gladly finish him off for her master-worse, she wouldn't hesitate to hurt Angelica, either.

He was in an impossible situation and he seriously thought that tonight was the night he would die-for real, this time. It might not have been so bad. He knew how it was to die.

But he couldn't afford to think only of himself.

To die would be to abandon Angelica. He had to do something to ensure her survival.

But what?

He was at a complete loss.

Let me… said the voice inside him. Let me take over.

It may be the only way.

Yes… the only way.

Harry saw the firing end of Voldemort's wand point his way. Harry could already smell the building odor of Avada Kedavra. Death was imminent.

A green glow begun to illuminate the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Say yes… whispered the voice. All you have to do is say yes…

"Avada…"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Angelica smiled through red glowing eyes. "Kedavra."

It was a sight Harry had seen before.

A bright green light headed straight for him.

TBC

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