Echoes of Destiny: Harry and Bellatrix's Second Chance

Sirius smirked at the frown tugging at the corners of his oldest friend's mouth. "Clearly, James has the 'Bad Auror' bit down pat," Sirius said cheekily to Albus, "but wouldn't it make more sense for Lily to be the 'Good Auror'? She and Bella were roommates, albeit briefly."

"Setting aside the fact that you are actually an Auror, Sirius," Albus chuckled, eyes twinkling at James' sour face, "I daresay Lady Black would expect to find collusion between a pair of old Marauders like you and James. So we meet her expectations. And she'd be disappointed in you, Sirius, as a member of the Black family, if she suspected you lacked ulterior motives."

"Whereas a wide-eyed, guileless muggleborn like me," Lily asked disapprovingly, "would somehow appear to be a perfect confidante for Bellatrix?"

"After your rescue from Malfoy Manor," Albus said to Lily, turning serious, "you do owe her a life debt, which may make her feel that she can better afford to confide in you. Moreover, as you are one of the two most brilliant arithmeticians I've ever had to the pleasure to teach," Albus added, eyes twinkling again, "Bellatrix may see you as a useful resource."

You need a new line, Albus, Lily thought to herself, annoyed with Dumbledore's overreliance on grandfatherly flattery, the Brightest Witch of Her Age has heard that one a million times. "Perhaps, Professor," Lily replied, rolling her eyes. "But please, remind me, again. Are we planning a dinner party or presiding over a war council?"

"Both, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore said, giving his brilliant former student a knowing smile, "as you are very well aware."

"Besides," Sirius added, smirking, "in the long tradition of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, family meals have always been more a function of allegiances and betrayals than steak and roasted potatoes."

"Sharp knives and fresh meat are always on the menu, though," James muttered.

Harry and Bellatrix stood across the street from 12 Grimmauld Place as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving snow-covered London to freeze in the winter night air. A myriad of delicately cast spells concealed the couple from view while they stood watch over the house that had been left mostly abandoned since Walburga Black's suicide.

"Who would even want to have a dinner party in that place?" Harry grumbled as he clenched his fists and drove them into the pockets of his coat in an effort to keep his hands warm. His memories of Grimmauld Place from his native timeline still predominated in his mind over any other memory. It had been a miserable, dirty place that he had spent far too much time hiding in.

"I recall you attending a dinner party there," Bellatrix said lightly, reminding him that the house had seen good times-or at least times when it had been in better repair. "Besides, I think the Order members keep their houses very private and secure. I do not think I qualify as a trusted friend of the Potter family quite yet."

"Yes, you kind of burned the bridges with your mother-in-law while you shared a dorm with her, didn't you?" Harry snickered, glancing quickly at Bellatrix with a smile before returning his focus to Grimmauld Place.

Bellatrix shrugged. "You cannot deny that her precociousness drove you crazy."

Harry wrinkled his nose and frowned at his wife. "It never pays to underestimate an ingenious muggleborn witch."

"Do not look at me that way," Bellatrix retorted. "You are an orphan, for Merlin's sake. If Lily Potter had raised you, it could have been a disaster. Look at Rose-she is a total creeper. As for Sidra… Kreacher likes her. What does that say about her?"

"I'll wait until I've had the chance to more formally get to know or hear firsthand gossip about my pseudo-siblings before passing judgment," Harry said stiffly, feeling oddly defensive over Bellatrix's comments concerning his family. "Besides, I was always told that the reason I survived Tom's Killing Curse as a child was somehow because of Lily's willingness to sacrifice herself for me. If that's true, it means that Lily Potter, while in her early twenties, orchestrated the destruction of Tom Riddle's mortal body, at the very height of his power, no less. No one else who ever opposed him-including Dumbledore, and for that matter, me-managed that feat."

Bellatrix arched her eyebrow in thought, impressed despite herself, even as she replied with reflexive sarcasm, "I didn't realize that crush she had on you was so mutual."

Scowling, Harry turned to look at Bellatrix, noting the thoughtful expression on her face. Realizing that his wife's tongue had yet again gotten the better of her, Harry said in an exasperated tone, "I can see your brain is engaged and working. But your mouth still seems to have a mind of its own."

Embarrassed by her lack of premeditation, Bellatrix felt her checks grow flush, even as she glared at her husband, matching Harry's scowl with one of her own. Realizing that he'd gotten his point across, Harry softened his expression and raised his eyebrows. Bellatrix's face remained stubbornly stony, making Harry smirk while Bellatrix furrowed her brows in annoyance.

Laughing to himself silently, Harry suddenly crushed his lips against hers, making Bellatrix breathlessly stumble even as she felt her body respond. I can't control this reflex either, she thought wistfully, wrapping arms around Harry and pressing herself against his chest.

Lightheaded and yearning, Harry and Bellatrix continued to kiss one another fiercely even as the sun slowly vanished, leaving London to shiver beneath the cloudless winter sky. Finally, slowly breaking the kiss, Bellatrix took a deep breath, smirking as she exhaled. "That would be a much better way to spend this evening."

Harry smiled broadly before shrugging wistfully. "Duty calls, my darling wife." Looking at the windows of Grimmauld Place and glancing at his watch, Harry added, "In five or ten minutes, you'll be fashionably late. It looks like the lights are on inside the dining room." Pausing, Harry touched his wand to his glasses, activating an enchantment, which allowed him to perceive assorted forms of magical activity. "And if I can in fact believe my eyes, it would appear that the coast is clear."

"Wonderful," Bellatrix declared regretfully. "Where's the cake?"

"Right over there," Harry said, gesturing to a bench on the edge of the sidewalk, roughly five meters away from their position.

"Why did you put it there?" Bellatrix whined, shaking her head as she walked to retrieve the cake, before refreshing the warming charm upon it. "Someone could have sat on it."

Harry shrugged. "I guess I could have put it on the road and let it get ran over by a lorry."

"Maybe you should have," Bellatrix said lamely, wincing internally at her witless riposte. Pausing briefly in thought, Bellatrix turned back to face Harry with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Did you ever think about going back to Privet Drive and harassing the Dursleys?" Bellatrix asked.

"Er… not really," Harry said, confused by the apparent non sequitur.

"Bothering your Aunt Petunia would not be very fun, but Vernon and Dudley… that could be a barrel of laughs right there," Bellatrix observed. "Emphasis on the barrel, of course."

"Sure," Harry said, still confused. "Terrific. I'll have to take the opportunity some time."

"It may come sooner than you think," Bellatrix smirked.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked nervously.

Bellatrix held up her hand, looking at her wristwatch as shushed him, heading toward Grimmauld Place as she said, "You are about to make me unfashionably late." Kissing her husband goodbye, Bellatrix asked, "What are you going to do while I'm in there enjoying the company of your esteemed friends and family?"

"Probably stop off for dinner at your favorite restaurant," Harry responded cheekily, laughing at the annoyed expression on his wife's face. "Maybe go terrorize some Death Eaters."

"I hope your mother is a good cook," Bellatrix said grouchily.

"How should I know about my mother's cooking? I'm an orphan," Harry shot back, smiling brightly.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "See you later," she said. "And do not terrorize Death Eaters. We cannot pass it off as something I might have done if I was having dinner with a bunch of witnesses."

She turned her back on Harry, making her way across the street and up the steps to the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place. Shifting the cake and its platter into one hand, she rapped on the door of the home that should have been hers were it not for her husband's total and complete aversion to the place. If Harry thinks we are going to live in that flat forever, he had better think twice, Bellatrix grumbled silently to herself.

Bellatrix was still shaking her head as she thought of the loss of Grimmauld Place even as the front door opened to reveal Sirius Black. "Dear Cousin!" he exclaimed exuberantly. "Be welcome to our humble home."

Bellatrix stared at him blankly. "I did not sign up for dinner with you," she said suspiciously.

"I'm the deal sweetener," Sirius said before being shoved aside by Lily Potter, who had appeared from the hall leading to the kitchen.

"We're so glad you could make it," Lily declared, smiling more broadly than Bellatrix thought she ought. "It's been so long since we were together at Hogwarts, and I've also wanted to thank you for everything you did to help Molly and me."

Bellatrix held out the cake. "I thought we might all enjoy this after the meal," she said.

"It's wonderful," Lily exclaimed just as Sirius's wife, Cassie, entered the front hall from the dining room.

"Did you make it yourself?" Cassie asked.

"Of course," Bellatrix replied, silently thanking Aunt Petunia for forcing Harry to learn how to cook well.

Lily and Cassie further complimented Bellatrix on the quality of the cake before leading her towards the dining room with Sirius trailing behind. In transit, they found James Potter and Albus Dumbledore examining some of the Black family relics.

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said graciously as he walked over to greet Bellatrix.

"Professor Dumbledore," Bellatrix replied, her tone the paragon of civility.

"I hear from my sources at the Ministry that you have been busy," Dumbledore observed.

"Pardon me?" Bellatrix asked, masking her confusion.

"He's talking about the ghost of Ashworth harassing Death Eaters," James Potter snapped, sounding very skeptical of Bellatrix in general.

"Oh, that ."

"Yeah, that," James said. "Do you really think that it's a good idea?"

"Yes."

James was about to retort, but Lily intervened. "Please, James," Lily said. "We are going to have a nice dinner."

"James is jealous," Sirius told Bellatrix conspiratorially. "He always wanted to be a masked vigilante when he was growing up."

"Maybe I should teach him how to raise Harry's ghost. He could take his turn one of these nights," Bellatrix said.

"Look at her," James retorted, speaking of Bellatrix in the third person. "She's a young girl that the Death Eaters would hurt quite badly if they got their hands on her."

"Just you remember, young man, that she is older than you," Bellatrix snapped.

"How old are you?" Lily asked innocently. "It's been so long since we've seen each other that I can't remember when your birthday was."

Bellatrix paused, her face a placid mask, suddenly realizing she still thought of herself as being seventeen. Quickly, she did the math. "I'm… thirty-nine."

"Nearly over the hill!" Sirius crowed. "Next stop… menopause!"

That's the good auror? Lily thought, rolling her eyes and shaking her head slightly. "You don't look thirty-nine," Lily said earnestly. "Howsoever do you do it?"

"It is the natural beauty that runs in the Black family," Bellatrix replied, relieved that her hosts had apparently bought the lie-or at least pretended to have done so. Glancing quickly at Sirius, she then qualified her comment. "On the female side, anyway."

"Hey!" Sirius protested as Cassie and Lily laughed before leaving heading to the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the food and complete their preparations for the dinner.

"Your age is irrelevant," James pressed on. "What you are doing is quite dangerous. It would be safer if you stopped."

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself," Bellatrix said airily, dismissing James's warning.

"Look, old woman, I'm an auror, and not even I go out alone like you do." James snapped.

"Have you considered that I might be a far better duelist than you?" Bellatrix asked, a dangerous tone apparent in her voice.

"I don't believe that," James retorted sharply.

"I'll prove it to you," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand as she walked into the living room in which Orion Black had tested Harry's prowess. "A duel, right here, right now."

A pity I decided against having Remus attend, Dumbledore thought, sighing internally at the antics of his good/bad auror duo. Expecting subtly from this particular pair of Marauders appears to have been a vain hope. Stepping between Bellatrix and James as he cleared his throat, Dumbledore said, "Let us save the entertainment for after dinner." Turning to Bellatrix, he added, "Mrs. Black, we are mainly interested in what you hope to achieve by randomly ambushing Death Eaters and then allowing all but a few to escape."

"It is called psychological warfare, Headmaster," Bellatrix said with faint condescension. "I want to keep Tom off balance. Someone has to deliver the message to him, and it is far better that embarrassed Death Eaters perform that task."

"And you propose to pursue this while you are working on your other project?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes," Bellatrix replied, wondering if he had shared information about the horcruxes with those present.

"I think you have a good two-pronged strategy in play," Dumbledore said with politic approval, "but surely, it is difficult to maintain both fronts all on your own."

Bellatrix shrugged. "I make do. Besides, there is nothing I can really do on the other project until I have Peter Pettigrew."

"Yes, perhaps we could discuss that alone," Dumbledore said quietly, glancing furtively at James and Sirius, who now looked extremely curious. The aged headmaster stood up. "Perhaps we could discuss it right now while we wait for dinner. I believe there is small room just across the hall."

"That would be fine," Bellatrix assented as she silently rejoiced. Shooting James and Sirius a smirk, Bellatrix followed Dumbledore out of the living room and into a small study across the hall. Some quick spell work lit up the room.

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said evenly, "I would encourage you to be discreet about your other project."

"You brought it up," Bellatrix defended, the shadow of a smirk still adorning her expression.

"Yes, but I referred to it as your project," Dumbledore qualified. "Secrecy is key to the situation. Furthermore, the subject of Peter Pettigrew is a sensitive one among this particular group."

"I see," Bellatrix said, leaving no hint as to what she really thought. "Well, tell me about Pettigrew."

"My sources indicate that Lord Voldemort is also seeking Pettigrew," Dumbledore told Bellatrix.

"Naturally," Bellatrix responded. "Does Snape know anything else?"

The silence that followed was thunderous, and Bellatrix reveled in it. Professor Dumbledore jealously guarded the identities of his informants. Without the realization that Bellatrix had access to Harry's expansive knowledge of how the Order likely functioned, Dumbledore could find no possible explanation for Bellatrix to know that Snape was a spy.

Dumbledore dared neither admit nor deny Bellatrix's assumption about Snape. "Mrs. Black, I cannot speak about my sources. Access to that information is based on the strictest need to know basis." He cleared his throat. "My sources also indicate that the Death Eaters responsible for the search happen to be Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

"Indeed," Bellatrix mused. "Has the Order done anything to track Pettigrew down?"

"No, I have just told you everything I know about Pettigrew's whereabouts."

"So be it," Bellatrix said. "You and your Order may as well forget about Pettigrew. I will look into the matter on my own."

"Just what do you intend to do?" Dumbledore asked.

"That information is on a somewhat loose need to know basis," Bellatrix said, maintaining a perfectly straight face. "Combine that with a dose of my natural contrariness and the result is that I am not inclined to tell you."

"Mrs. Black," Dumbledore said with a deep sigh, somehow sounding very patient but disapproving, "you are balancing a lot of important and difficult concerns and responsibilities. Would it not be easier for you to let us know your plans and allow us to help you here and there?"

"If I have a situation that overwhelms me, I will let you know," Bellatrix replied. "For now, I feel quite up to snuff. In fact, I am going to prove it to you when I duel Mr. Potter tonight."

"I assure you, Mrs. Black, that a duel with Mr. Potter is not necessary," Dumbledore said as he moved to exit the room and return to the dining room, thus signaling that the private interview was over."

"But I want to duel him," Bellatrix said, smiling impertinently.

Bellatrix departed from Grimmauld Place feeling rather satisfied, albeit bruised and quite sore. She spotted a man sitting across the road, on the bench on which the cake had sat. Thinking that it might be Harry, she made her way across the street. The man did not look like Harry, but he was eating from a takeout container stamped with the name of a restaurant she and Harry had visited a number of times.

"So, you think that is my favorite restaurant, eh?" Bellatrix smirked, leering at him as she self-consciously felt at her face to make sure she was no longer bleeding. "What an inattentive husband you are."

The man who apparently was Harry grinned. "Well, it's your favorite restaurant that's close enough to here to bother to walk to, anyway." Noticing bruises on her forehead and cheek, Harry grew concerned. "What happened to your face?"

"I was teaching your father a lesson," Bellatrix told Harry simply.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Seeing as you are sporting a pair of black eyes, it rather looks like he may have taught you a lesson."

"At least I am still walking," Bellatrix said mischievously.

Harry stared at his wife silently for several seconds, then said, "Well, I'm impressed."

"I hate to knock your father off of that pedestal you put him on, Harry," Bellatrix smirked, "but compared to you, James Potter was just a stroll through the park."

Harry shook his head in amazement, staring for a long, silent moment into his wife's violent eyes. "Actually, Bellatrix, before I was born, my parents dueled Tom Riddle and survived, three separate times."

"Which means that the James Potter I so soundly beat tonight," Bellatrix realized, eyes wide, "has twice as much experience as your father did when he dueled toe to toe with the Devil himself."

"No surprise to me," Harry said, curling a lustrous ebon lock of Bellatrix's hair around his right index finger while stroking her left check, "After all, you are-singularly-the most talented, most powerful, most beautiful witch I've ever known."

Harry's next opportunity to terrorize Death Eaters arrived a few days later, taking a slightly different twist than previous incidents, during which he had satisfied himself with frightening and then attacking groups of Death Eaters prior to allowing most of the perpetrators to escape to tell the tale to Tom. The enhanced opportunity came because of two factors. The first was that Bellatrix and Harry had developed a spell that would allow the ghost of Harry Ashworth to terrorize Death Eaters briefly without Harry's personal involvement. The second factor had more to do with the Death Eaters' specific task for the night.

As Harry crept through Diagon Alley that late evening, he happened upon a group of Death Eaters gathering in a very small street between a small pub and a secondhand clothing store. Harry gripped his wand and prepared to have his "ghost" appear some distance down the street and then walk slowly up the street toward the gathered Death Eaters.

However, Harry paused when he realized that this group was not planning the typical arson and sabotage campaign throughout Diagon Alley that had become the most monotonous play in the Death Eaters' book. Apparently, these Death Eaters intended to go elsewhere, and were currently waiting for more comrades. With a confident smirk, Harry decided that he would join up.

With a quick wave of his wand, Harry caused a Death Eater mask to materialize in front of his face. A few other quick spells served to disguise Harry and his person further. He emerged from the shadows and took up a position on the group's outskirts.

A few of the Death Eaters looked at Harry for a brief moment, grunting very quietly as if in greeting or even recognition. Harry grunted back and then struck a diffident pose, leaning against a wall. The Death Eater in command was nobody that Harry could recognize, at least not with the mask and robes, though Harry was able to discern that it was a wizard-a wizard very preoccupied with his timepiece and with watching the street for unwanted arrivals.

Eventually, the leader decided that they were ready to begin. He motioned for all the Death Eaters in the group to move inward so they could hear him speak quietly. "The Dark Lord wants us to capture Percy Weasley," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "It is imperative that we capture him without leaving obvious physical marks."

"What about his wife?" another Death Eater asked, obviously disappointed that the operation involved something as complicated as keeping the target alive.

"Fair game," rumbled the leader, "so long as she stays alive."

Harry wondered whether Percy had married Penelope or someone else this time around. In so doing, he almost missed the travelling instructions, though he was able to catch on just in time for their departure.

One disapparition pop later, Harry found himself in the basement of Percy Weasley's building. He and the Death Eaters made for the lift swiftly and piled in. "No more magic without my permission until we have him in sight," commanded one of the Death Eaters. Harry supposed he was the second in command-or perhaps wanted to be first in command.

They soon arrived on the floor of Percy's flat. Harry's mind raced as he tried to plan his next move. The ghost of Harry Ashworth would not be very impressive in the well-lit hallway outside of Percy's flat. Fortunately, Harry had some extra time to plan as two of the Death Eaters quickly worked to bypass the wards guarding Percy's flat while the rest of the group-a group that Harry thought was rather large for a simple kidnapping-kept watch. Inefficient and cowardly, Harry thought, though he was grateful that the group was large enough for him to merge into without notice.

Eventually, the two Death Eaters in charge of the ward breaking signaled that the wards were down. The group stormed toward the apartment, kicking open the door, wands drawn. Luckily, for Percy and his wife, at least one of the wards had either gone undetected or had triggered an alarm because Percy clearly had been waiting for the group. A stunner caught one of the Death Eaters in the face, even as the rest rushed in, returning spell fire.

Harry passed the fallen Death Eater, pausing to kick him soundly in the crotch, before pushing on into the apartment amid the chaos. Percy had retreated, barricading himself with his wife in the bedroom. The Death Eaters were eagerly shooting spells, but not so eagerly advancing down the hallway.

Harry looked around for the fuse box, eventually finding it near the kitchen stove. He did not know whether Percy and his wife used electricity, but wanting to ensure that the apartment stayed in darkness, he shot a reducto at it, guaranteeing that the apartment would be dark enough for the Ashworth ghost.

He then turned his attention to the windows, spotting a big sliding door that led out to a balcony. Moonlight filtered in through window and the drapes. Perfect, Harry thought. Conscious that Percy was under fire, Harry moved to put his plan into action, drawing an alternate Wandel wand and casting the spell he and Bellatrix had created.

Derived in part, ironically, from Bellatrix's arthimatic assessment of the mosmordre projection of the Dark Mark, the conjured form of Ashworth's ghost manifested itself, looking as if it had entered through the window and touched down on the carpet. The Death Eaters were too focused on getting into the bedroom to notice, however. Moronic tactics, Harry thought to himself. But what can you expect from a bunch of inbred purebloods who let themselves be branded little cattle? Not even watching their own flank. Harry smirked. Unless of course they think I'm watching it.

Shrugging, Harry took a deep breath and let out a very feminine-sounding shriek. "It's the ghost of Ashworth!" Harry yelled, using the same wand both to control the apparition and to point fearfully to it. With the Death Eaters now focused on Ashworth's ghost, Harry twisted his Wandel wand imperceptibly, causing the eyes of the ghost to flare.

Then, using the yew and phoenix feather wand that had belonged to Voldemort in Harry's native timeline, Harry caused a blinding explosion nearby just before casting the image projection spell, creating the appearance that the ghost had struck Harry himself unconscious-or dead. Now invisible, Harry then stepped away to another side of the room while the Death Eaters, just getting their sight back, stared at the ghost and the apparently downed form of their comrade.

The Death Eaters were hesitant. They had heard stories of Ashworth's ghost and the fear it inspired in the Dark Lord himself, but the Death Eaters also had clear orders to bring Percy Weasley to Voldemort. Harry helped them make up their minds, summoning lightning bolts that seemed to flow from the ghost's hands. The lightning bolts, informed by the ghost's reputation, rapidly convinced the Death Eaters to flee. In short order, the apartment was empty save for Harry and the Weasley couple, who were still hiding in the bedroom.

Harry moved from the bedroom door's line of sight and then cancelled the image projection charm that had made it appear as if he was dead on the floor. Soon, cautious mumbles from the bedroom indicated that Percy was about to come out. With a vague smirk on his face, Harry gestured with his Wandel wand to send the ghost floating toward the bedroom before severing the wand's connection to the apparition. Without the connection to the wand, the ghost continued to exist for only a few short moments. However, the ghost's life was apparently long enough, for as Harry apparated away, he heard a masculine gasp of fear and a genuine, feminine shriek.

The next morning, the Daily Prophet was a hot item at the Hogwarts breakfast tables.

Daily Prophet

Death Eater Attack on Ministry Aide Foiled by Ghost?

~Rita Skeeter

Late last night, Death Eaters broke into the apartment of Percival Weasley, interrupting the domestic affairs of Mr. Weasley and his partner, a person whom this reporter will not name. Well-set wards alerted Weasley of the impending attack, and he was prepared to greet his uninvited visitors with spellfire as the door burst inward. Weasley successfully stunned one of his attackers, whom Aurors later captured.

The attack ceased abruptly at the arrival of a mysterious visitor. Closemouthed, Weasley refused to share his observations of the incident. However, this reporter has discovered facts from the Auror report. Weasley informed Aurors that he heard one of the Death Eaters yell, "It's the ghost of Ashworth!" just before bright flashes of light exploded through the apartment. The aforementioned report also details that Weasley's partner went on record saying that a ghost of what appeared to be a wizard was observed.

Amelia Bones, a senior auror, refused to comment on whether similar incidents have previously occurred. She also refused to comment on a string of recently foiled Death Eater attacks. Other DMLE officials refused to comment as to whether the Ashworth referred to may have been one Harry Ashworth, a close, personal confidante of the late Minister Black and a former Potions professor at Hogwarts. Ashworth was last sighted in 1976 and is presumed by many to be deceased.

See Who is Harry Ashworth? on page 5

Percy's youngest brother, Ron, was naturally milking the article for all it was worth, discussing the attack on Percy with his two best friends, Sidra Potter and Hermione Granger, along with any and every gossipy student within earshot willing to tolerate Ron's smug condescension long enough to learn what little Ron knew about Harry Ashworth's history.

"Why won't Skeeter name the person with your brother?" Dean Thomas asked. "Is he cheating on his wife?"

"Skeeter was just trying to make Percy look bad," Ron said, brushing the question off as Sidra and Hermione nodded in agreement. "Penelope was the one who saw the ghost."

"So have you heard from them?" Sally Anne Perks asked.

"Well, no," Ron admitted. The Weasley clan no longer got along very well with Percy, having been estranged from Ron's ambitious older brother ever since Percy's graduation from Hogwarts, when Percy decided to reach out to his coldhearted grandfather, Minister of Magic Prewitt. Glancing knowingly at Hermione, Ron added, "But I'm sure that my grandfather-Minister Prewitt-worked closely with Ashworth at the start of the war." Glancing at Hermione again, Ron raised his eyebrows in response to her dubious expression. "In fact, I'm sure the Minister thought about appointing Ashworth to head the DMLE before Ashworth disappeared."

Finally, as the questions lulled, Ron smirked to overhear fellow students parroting his version of events. Turning to Hermione, Ron still saw doubt written across her face.

"I'm not sure you're right about the relationship between Ashworth and the Minister, Ron," Hermione said, frowning.

Ron shrugged. "The Minister may be a horse's ass," Ron replied as Hermione's frown deepened, "but he genuinely hates the Dark Lord. And besides, I said the Minister probably thought about appointing Ashworth. He probably thought it was a ridiculous idea. Nothing wrong with a little misinformation to throw off the competition."

"You're channeling Rita Skeeter, Ron," Sidra groaned, rolling her eyes as Hermione shook her head.

Ignoring Ron, Hermione mused, "I wonder if Bellatrix Black is the one responsible."

"Maybe we should ask them," Sidra said, turning her head and looking down the table at her sister, Rose, who huddled with her own posse.

Beyond an occasional shake of the head, Rose Potter, Leo Black, and Ginny Weasley had largely ignored Ron's posturing, gathering together on the opposite end of the Gryffindor table and theorizing about why Harry and Bellatrix would have been anywhere near Percy Weasley's apartment.

"He's an important Ministry official," Leo speculated in a low voice. "Maybe Harry got wind of a plot to capture him."

Ginny snorted. "He's not an important Ministry official."

Rose seemed lost in thought. "We should try to learn how he does that image projection spell," she mused.

Further musing was cut off, however, as Professor McGonagall arrived in the hall and signaled that she wished to make an announcement.

"Students, as you know, the dueling club will hold its weekly meeting tonight. The Headmaster has invited a witch named Bellatrix Black to conduct the lesson and practice exercises, instead of Professor Flitwick."

Scattered murmurs broke out at this announcement of a departure from the dueling club's routine. Instantly, the attention of Rose, Sidra, and friends focused on Professor McGonagall, who now twisted her mouth in distaste, unconsciously conveying her opinion of what she had been instructed to say.

"The Headmaster has asked me to announce this," said McGonagall, "because as a scion of the darker side of the Black family, Mrs. Black will bring a unique perspective to your dueling training. Not counting unfortunate or dangerous situations, this is your best opportunity to learn about the sort of dark magic used in dueling. Therefore, those of you who do not usually attend the club are encouraged to come. In addition, Professor Dumbledore will be on hand to assist Mrs. Black and provide increased insight on the subject. Hopefully," McGonagall added, skepticism etched deeply into her face, "this will prove to be valuable for your education."

Bellatrix stood a few feet to the headmaster's side, frowning. She had been under the impression that she would be teaching the lesson, but Dumbledore had largely taken over, asking Bellatrix to cast this spell or that spell -or any damn random spell- as they went through a slow, step-by-step mock duel punctuated with explanatory instruction, before the other Hogwarts professors guided the students through the exercises. Professor Dumbledore then concluded the dueling club meeting with a long list of instructions for how students could practice dueling techniques with each other without significant risk of injury or disruption to the school, announcing that he would be willing to take personal questions for a few minutes.

Thus, Bellatrix was a bit surprised when a number of students approached her to introduce themselves.

"Blaise Zabini," said one young Slytherin, holding out his hand in a formal manner.

Bellatrix shook Blaise's hand while her mind raced, instinctively tracing the Zabini bloodlines and relations. Before she could think of something clever to say, Zabini had been replaced by another student, and then another.

The Slytherins were the most forward, but the smallest drain on her time. They wanted to establish the connection and make the acquaintance, but because Bellatrix was a largely unknown commodity, none wanted to get too close to her as of yet absent clear purpose or need.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs generally had questions about the lesson or magic. Bellatrix directed them to the Headmaster. If he wanted to teach so desperately, Bellatrix thought, then he can answer all the questions about the lesson. One redheaded Hufflepuff wanted to make the acquaintance of Bellatrix quite specifically, however.

"My name is Susan Bones," the redhead announced to Bellatrix. "My auntie, Amelia Bones, is an auror."

"How nice," Bellatrix said, feigning sincerity while she considered the House of Bones. "An excellent career choice."

"Are you Harry Ashworth's wife?" Susan asked plainly.

Bellatrix smiled. I thought Gryffindors were the ones who charged ahead. "That or widow," Bellatrix coyly replied. "It depends on whether he is alive."

Susan was plainly nonplused, asking after a pause, "So is he alive or not?"

"I am not about to say," Bellatrix said. "I find more amusement that way."

"Is it true that Ashworth was your father's confidante?"

"Spy, confidante, advisor, and son-in-law," Bellatrix said expansively, ideas suddenly unfolding in her mind as she reflected upon the Bones bloodlines and estimated Amelia Bones' relative importance in the Ministry.

Satisfied, Susan Bones thanked Bellatrix for the lesson and turned to leave, but was briefly stopped by Bellatrix. "Send Auror Bones my respects," Bellatrix added in a casual voice before turning to the next student, a Ravenclaw.

Finally, as the last of the students drifted from the room, Bellatrix realized that none of the Gryffindors had seen fit to greet Bellatrix-except for the trio of Rose, Leo, and Ginny.

"We see that you have been busy," Rose said quietly.

"You could say that," Bellatrix said, nodding.

"We could help you," Rose offered.

"From inside of Hogwarts?" Bellatrix smirked.

"You never know," Rose retorted as Leo looked around to make sure no one was picking up on the conversation.

If nothing else, Bellatrix thought, smiling to herself, involving the daughter of James Potter in my machinations will royally annoy him. "When is your next Hogsmeade weekend?" Bellatrix asked sweetly.

"Next weekend," Rose replied. "Are you going to meet us?"

"It is an option," Bellatrix said vaguely. "Keep an eye out that weekend, and maybe I will approach you."

As Leo coughed loudly, Bellatrix turned to see that Professor Dumbledore was walking towards her.

"See you later, kids," Bellatrix said quietly just before Dumbledore arrived.

"There is some refreshment awaiting us in my office," Dumbledore told Bellatrix, his expression neutral as he watched Rose, Leo, and Ginny retreat.

"Sounds great," she said with incomplete sincerity.

While he and Bellatrix walked back towards Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster nattered on about how well the lesson had gone. And how he felt that it was important to teach the students how to stand up to a Death Eater attack. And that, although it certainly was unfortunate, that it was a necessity.

Bellatrix squelched the instinct to roll her eyes, as she and Dumbledore entered the Headmaster's office. Bellatrix frowned openly, however, when she found that the refreshments had been bait for an ambush. Alastor Moody and Lily Potter had been sitting in wait.

"How did the lesson go, Albus?" Lily asked, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to the Headmaster, who murmured his thanks as he sat behind his desk.

"It was very good," Dumbledore said. "I think Mrs. Black brought an important contribution to the overall learning experience."

"You are very welcome," Bellatrix said, grudgingly accepting the cup of tea from Lily and pretending to take a sip after sitting down. No veritaserum for me, thanks.

The quartet sat in expectant silence for several minutes. Bellatrix sensed that they were probably hoping that she would say something to help move the conversation forward, but Albus's little ambush had put her in no mood to comply. Whatever it was they wanted, they would have to accept the embarrassment of bringing it up directly.

Alastor Moody, however, was immune to embarrassment. "You've been out terrorizing Death Eaters with the ghost of Harry Ashworth again."

"I never expressed any commitment to cease doing so," Bellatrix said crossly, glaring at Dumbledore as she placed the teacup atop his desk.

"We are interested in how you do it," Lily said, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I distract them with the ghost of Ashworth." Bellatrix said simply, "and wallop them from behind."

"We are wondering about the spell you use to project the ghost of Ashworth," Professor Dumbledore declared.

"Another clever ploy to determine whether he is alive," Bellatrix said, grinning as if she were on the verge of openly snickering at them.

"Yes, we would like to know whether Ashworth is alive," Moody growled. "If he is, we would rather speak to him than to you. So, why don't you tell us?"

"Wondering keeps the Dark Lord on edge," Bellatrix chimed sweetly.

"You can tell us," Lily urged. "Nobody here is working for him."

Bellatrix appeared to consider seriously their request, thinking to herself, Harry's mother did manage to deal Riddle a most bitter defeat, after all. Finally, she made an offer. "I will show you the spell that summons the ghost of Ashworth," Bellatrix demurred.

"Really?" Lily said, ever the eager student.

"Yes," Bellatrix said respectfully, directly to Lily, "really," Standing up and drawing her wand, Bellatrix cried, " Illusio spiritum !"

In a darker corner of the office, the ghostly form of Harry Ashworth instantly appeared.

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said, honestly impressed. "You developed this spell yourself?"

"Yes," replied Bellatrix smugly. "You can call up the image with the incantation. Then, as you can see, twisting the wand causes the eyes to flare. Guiding it around is quite simple, too." She then released the spell from the wand and the ghost faded away after a couple of moments. "I would appreciate it if you did not make liberal use of this. The point of creating the spell is to keep the Dark Lord on his guard."

"Quite so," Dumbledore said as Bellatrix returned to her chair and Lily took Bellatrix's place on the floor.

" Illusio spiritum!" Lily called out. The ghost appeared. She gestured her wand to bring the ghost closer, but as the form moved into the better lit part of the office, it became very difficult to see.

"What kind of arithmancy did you do to get the exact form of Harry Ashworth to respond to the incantation?" Dumbledore asked.

"Harry's form is not tied to the incantation," Bellatrix answered. "Imagine what you want to appear, and that is what will appear, albeit, in a ghostly form."

"Marvelous," Dumbledore praised. "You, Mrs. Black, have great talent. Something you and Mrs. Potter very much share."

"Thank you," Bellatrix responded, watching thoughtfully as a somewhat forlorn Lily guided Harry's ghost back into the darkness, better to gaze upon it.

Shadows cloaked the graveyard that sat adjacent to the ruins of the Black Family's abandoned ancestral manor of Ravenbourgh. A pair of apparition pops heralded the arrival of Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape. Narcissa pocketed her wand, but Snape kept his drawn as his eyes darted between the Black family's headstones.

"This way," Narcissa murmured quietly, motioning toward the resting place of her parents.

Snape glanced at Narcissa. Though she had pointed the way, she was not moving. He resisted the impulse to sneer. "You can't think your sister is so dangerous that she could overpower the both of us."

"You do not know my sister," Narcissa said quietly.

Shaking his head, Snape took her arm and reassuringly moved forward with her. "You two are family."

"She might not believe I am part of the family if she has concluded that I have supported the Death Eaters," Narcissa said.

"I always thought she and the Blacks favored the Dark Arts," Snape argued.

"She favors power," Narcissa said. "And vengeance for the death of her father and uncle, and possibly for the death of Harry Ashworth."

Snape nodded, his head swiveling back and forth as he watched for any risks. Just as he prepared to ask more about Narcissa's knowledge of Bellatrix and Ashworth, he and Narcissa arrived at the gravestone of the late Minister Black. Perched on a rather large tomb next to Cygnus Black's gravestone was Bellatrix. Standing next to the grave was the ghostly form of Harry Ashworth.

"Do you really think you can intimidate us with that parlor trick?" Snape sneered. Dumbledore had passed on the information about how Bellatrix had been using the form of Harry Ashworth. The Order was now largely convinced that Bellatrix was acting on her own, although they remained quite uncertain about her motivations. While Snape was unsure whether he bought the idea that Bellatrix had decided to exact revenge for her father's death-after all this time-he lacked a better explanation.

Snape's emotions about the apparent confirmation of Harry Ashworth's death were also jumbled. Vividly, he could still remember his confrontation with Professor Ashworth after he had been caught helping Narcissa in her attempt to leave Hogwarts and join Lucius. He had resented Ashworth then, but as Snape reflected back, he found Ashworth's bluntness refreshing. It would have done the Order good to have Ashworth's influence. Despite these thoughts, Snape maintained his sneer toward the apparition of the late Ashworth, since tonight, he and Narcissa dealt with Bellatrix, not their old potions professor.

Bellatrix smiled crookedly in response to Snape's jibe, raising her hand to shoo the ghost away. At her command, Harry Ashworth's ghostly form evaporated into the night air, disappearing from view.

"What do you want from me?" Narcissa demanded, fighting a tremble in her voice that she was sure Snape detected. Narcissa feared Bellatrix might have been able to detect her sister's nervousness, as well, but her nominally older sibling appeared more focused on their surroundings than on anything else. Narcissa took that as a good sign. It meant that Bellatrix did not regard her as an opponent-for the moment, at least.

"Maybe I just want family fellowship," Bellatrix defended half-heartedly.

"I do not think so," Narcissa said flatly. "The letter your house elf delivered did not bear even the semblance of familial regard."

Bellatrix slid down from her perch, walked over to Narcissa, and stared into her eyes. It was not a searching gaze-rather, it was meant to intimidate. "I want Peter Pettigrew. Alive."

"I… I do not have him," Narcissa protested.

"I understand that your son and Lucius are searching for him. Surely, you know where they can be found," Bellatrix said.

Inwardly, Snape cursed Professor Dumbledore. The aged headmaster must have told Bellatrix about Lucius and Draco searching for Peter. Involuntarily, his wand arm twitched. I will not let yet another person in Narcissa's life exploit her, he thought fiercely to himself . Before Snape had managed to level his wand arm, however, he blinked, and to his great surprise found Bellatrix's wand already pointed directly at the spot between his eyes.

"You would lose, Severus," Bellatrix growled menacingly, "and you would lose badly. I do not think you can comprehend how bad it would be."

Still pointing her wand toward Snape, Bellatrix looked at her sister. "If I can have Pettigrew, this war will end more quickly. I will make sure that it goes well for you after the war-particularly if you help me in this thing."

"The Dark Lord will kill Draco," Narcissa whispered fearfully.

"As Peter himself has proven," Bellatrix stated plainly, "Tom Riddle cannot kill someone he cannot find."

"You make it sound too simple," Narcissa fretted.

"It is that simple," Bellatrix declared. "You tell me where they are. Presumably, if your husband is not a total idiot, Pettigrew is in the locale. I, a more talented person than Lucius, will find and capture Pettigrew. I will even capture Draco. As far as everyone is concerned, Draco and Peter will be missing and presumed dead. Your precious son can sit out the rest of the war."

"What about Lucius?" Narcissa asked halfheartedly.

Bellatrix shifted her glance back and forth from Severus and Narcissa. "It does not seem to me that you two are eager to see him come home, or continue living."

"How dare you!" Snape hissed.

"You cannot just go kill my husband," Narcissa said weakly.

"Your husband helped kill our father," Bellatrix said icily. "He helped kill his own father. He is a blood traitor. To be blunt, Lucius Malfoy does not figure in my vision of our world's future."

Snape was outraged, but Narcissa put a hand on his forearm, restraining him from speaking or moving. After a bit, she spoke up. "You can do as you will, but if I tell you where they are, you have to see to it that my son comes back to England safely."

"Very well," Bellatrix agreed. "In exchange for you telling me where I can find both Lucius and Draco, I will pursue every reasonable step available to me for having your son brought back to England."

"And hidden from the Dark Lord," Narcissa added.

"And hidden from your half-blood Dark Lord, Tom Riddle," Bellatrix replied evenly.

"Your oath," Narcissa demanded.

Bellatrix shrugged uncomfortably. "Your son's welfare is at best a peripheral concern to me. I cannot afford to be bound by oaths that could interfere with my quest against Riddle."

"He is your nephew, for Merlin's sake," Narcissa pleaded. She had first viewed herself as having the upper hand in this bargain, but now she realized Bellatrix had the advantage. Refusing to help Bellatrix find Pettigrew would annoy and inconvenience her. But Narcissa now could see a way-her only way-to get her son out of the war, and she wanted it desperately. While under Voldemort's near-constant supervision, Narcissa could neither hunt for her son nor smuggle him to safety. Bellatrix could perform for Narcissa and her son a service no one else in Magical Britain-including the Order-would likely be willing to perform.

"I have never even met this nephew of whom you imagine I should be so fond," Bellatrix responded coldly.

"This nephew could very well inherit your estate, Bellatrix," Narcissa pointed out. "Even if Professor Ashworth was still alive, I do not see you having children."

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, stammering in the face of Narcissa's retort. Where's that vicious tongue of mine when I actually need the damn thing, Bellatrix thought bitterly. "I… I… well… Sirius would inherit everything! Or his son." Bellatrix then paused, thinking of her husband's kisses. "And you never know. I might have a child or two after this war."

Having placed Bellatrix briefly on the defensive, Narcissa seized the chance to plead Draco's case. "Please, Bellatrix," Narcissa begged. "I am willing to tell you. Just promise me that you will do good by Draco."

"I guess I could swear an oath to not kill Draco and to help him when I can," Bellatrix said.

Knowing at that moment that Bellatrix would promise nothing more, Narcissa satisfied herself with her sister's proffered oath. Narcissa drew her own wand before the sisters exchanged magical oaths while Snape sulkily watched. Narcissa then revealed to Bellatrix everything she knew about Lucius and Draco's whereabouts. "They've been in Albania," she began.

Bellatrix watched Narcissa and Snape apparate away. Once they were gone, she waited for her husband to show himself. Bellatrix felt the warmth of Harry's breath on her neck, marveling again at her reflexive response. Placing his mouth next to her ear, Harry whispered amusedly, "Well, I'll be a ferret's uncle."

Bellatrix turned her head and looked into his eyes. "What?"

"Never mind," Harry laughed. "Let's go."

Harry and Bellatrix double apparated back to their flat in Manchester together. Bellatrix wandered into their bedroom to change into something more comfortable before returning to the kitchen to find Harry holding the fridge door open.

"We can just have something frozen," Bellatrix suggested.

Harry grinned as he shut the fridge, opened the freezer, and selected a pair of frozen dinners. "You've become rather fond of the frozen food aisle at the Muggle grocery store, haven't you?"

"Well, if Kreacher would do some cooking around here," Bellatrix replied somewhat defensively, "maybe I could forego frozen food."

Harry smiled as he used his wand to cast a warming charm on his frozen meal. "Or, you could learn how to cook. I would rather not eat anything Kreacher has prepared."

Bellatrix warmed her own meal and followed Harry to their mahogany dining table. They sat down across from each other, the plastic frozen food trays clashing terribly with the table and the candlesticks Bellatrix had used to decorate it.

Somewhat tired, they focused on eating. However, Bellatrix eventually broke the silence. "I suppose we are going to Albania."

"No," said Harry slowly as he chewed his food, "I think I will go to Albania. It would be best if you stayed here and maintained the ghost of Ashworth's random appearances and did more research on horcruxes."

"You are the one who has been making the ghost appearances," Bellatrix said. "You should continue."

"Have you ever been to Albania?" Harry asked.

"No. Have you?"

"No."

"I guess you had better cook up another argument," Bellatrix parried.

"Peter will likely be disguised in his rat animagus form," Harry said.

"And you are a rat animagus also?"

"No," admitted Harry, "but I speak parseltongue. I can interrogate the snakes in Albania and find out if they've run across any strange rats."

"Rats that they probably ate?" Bellatrix asked, eyebrows raised.

"No," Harry smirked, "rats that strangely were able to elude being eaten."

"Whatever," Bellatrix said, conceding to Harry's proposal to go to Albania while she held down the fort. "I suppose I shall have to prepare some sort of facility where we can hold Peter and Draco prisoner. There is also plenty of horcrux research to do."

"When did we decide to hold Draco prisoner?" Harry asked, setting down his fork and using his wand to banish the fork and the empty dinner tray away.

Bellatrix gave Harry an annoyed look. "Did you really think I would just hand Draco over to my sister? I am going to hold the miserable boy prisoner and milk his mother for all she is worth."

Harry cast his mind back to when Bellatrix had sworn the magical oath. "I guess you did leave yourself quite a bit of room in that oath."

Bellatrix looked at him smugly. "Yes, I did."

"I'm not sure how much Narcissa is worth, though," Harry said.

Bellatrix finished her dinner and summoned an empty glass and a bottle of wine. "Her worth, at the moment, is inestimable," Bellatrix declared. She poured herself a glass of wine and offered the bottle to Harry, who declined by shaking his head. "However," she added, savoring the wine in sips, "that shall be my project alone for the time being."

"Great," Harry said, already dismissing Narcissa's supposed value and beginning to consider just how he would get to Albania. Magical transportation could attract unwanted attention, Harry thought, but I'm not terribly eager to ride a Muggle train, either.

"When will you leave?" Bellatrix asked, emptying her wineglass.

"Tomorrow, I should think," Harry replied.

Setting her empty glass on the tabletop for Kreacher to clean up later- assuming he bothers to appear before the next meal, Bellatrix thought-Bellatrix lifted herself into Harry's arms, again pressing herself into his chest as she kissed him deeply. "Time for bed?" she smiled.

Petunia Dursley was in the process of washing her dishes when the local furniture store's delivery van pulled up to #2 Privet Drive. She paused momentarily, holding a half dried dish in her hand as the workers opened up the back and began to unload various articles of furniture before carrying them into the house next door.

Instinctively, she twisted her head to call out to Vernon that it looked like someone might finally be moving into #2, then remembered that Vernon was at work. She finished up the dishes as she watched the deliverymen carry in couches, tables, and beds. They were still at work when Petunia left the house and made her way to the nearest shop to buy some sort of welcoming gift.

When she came home from the shop, gift in hand, wrapped and ready to be delivered to the new neighbor, the van was just pulling away. Smugly, Petunia calculated that she would be the first in the neighborhood to greet the new residents. It would be she who had the first shot at determining whether these people would be an acceptable addition to the neighborhood. Or not.

Petunia practically pranced up the front steps carrying the Trojan horse gift bag. Posing carefully, she rapped smartly on the door. In a few seconds, a middle-aged woman with light brown hair answered the door and greeted Petunia.

"My name is Petunia Dursley, and I'm from next door," Petunia explained. "I thought you might like a little something to welcome you."

The woman's smile was positively predatory, but she spoke graciously, accepting the Trojan horse from her horse-faced neighbor without even glancing into the bag. "How nice of you!" she exclaimed. "Do come in. My name is Trixie White."