1,055A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews. I recognized many of you from years past, and it brought back such fond memories. Suggestions on plot points are very welcome. Looming right now, among other things, is the decision on what subject Harry should teach, if, hypothetically, he were hired at Hogwarts. In DE, I went with potions in an attempt to avoid the cliche of Harry doing DADA and to have fun with him being incompetent. But I am on the fence now. I can cover key plot points either way.
The sticklers among you will quickly note that Bellatrix's birthdate and other things are not canon. That is the price of the plot. And, as fan fiction, none of this is canon anyway.
Delenda Est - Rebooted
Lord Silvere
Chapter 2: Lord Black's Lieutenant
A grandfather clock softly chimed early in the morning as an owl bearing Bellatrix Black's annual Hogwarts letter arrived. Bellatrix watched from behind languid eyelids as the owl swooped through her bedroom window and landed on the back of the chair in front of her dressing table.
The owl stuck its leg out, presenting the letter it carried, but Bellatrix ignored it, remaining propped up against the headboard of her bed. Instead, she focused on the early morning sky outside the window. After a few more minutes, Bellatrix could see in the faint light of the approaching sunrise that another owl was approaching.
With a satisfied smirk, Bellatrix hopped off the bed and met the owl at the window, quickly collecting the letter it had delivered. She sent that owl on its way before retrieving the Hogwarts letter from the first owl.
The letter the second owl had carried was from Bellatrix's uncle Orion Black. He was the head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. In a time not too far gone, it would have been unexceptional for him to be widely referenced as Lord Black. However, that was no longer the fashion, even if the Blacks and various like-minded witches and wizards, for whatever reason, liked to think of Orion, and anyone else similarly situated, as being a lord in every sense of the word.
As she returned to her bed, Bellatrix tossed the Hogwarts letter onto her dressing table and broke the seal on the letter from Orion with a crisp snap. She settled back into her bed to read the letter. In it, Orion, as he did every year, offered Bellatrix congratulations on her upcoming birthday. The letter went on to explain that, as a gift for her birthday, in addition to the customary authorization for Bellatrix to withdraw 100 galleons from the Black Family vault during her Hogwarts shopping trip, Orion was authorizing Bellatrix to take possession of an heirloom hair ornament that the Black family had owned for centuries.
Considering that Bellatrix's birthday was several months in the future, the birthday letter was as kind as it was callous. Bellatrix knew that her sisters would be receiving similar birthday letters with their Hogwarts letters regardless of the proximity of their birthdates. The monetary gift was as generous as it was insulting. Money was money, but this money came with the implication that perhaps Cygnus Black did not have enough money to buy his children's school supplies or a nice birthday gift.
The backhanded aspects of the birthday gift did not bother Bellatrix. She understood that there were many hands in the pot and that sometimes this led to outcomes not intended by all. Her uncle would have had to authorize the gift. His generosity would have fallen prey to her aunt's domineering personality and social ambitions. And then, it was almost certain that a bank goblin or two was involved in the actual execution.
The news that she would be receiving the hair ornament brought a smile to Bellatrix's face. Her hints, some more subtle than others, dropped here and there over the past year, had not gone unnoticed or unheeded. The heirloom, largely forgotten by the Blacks among their vast collection of other treasures, would be hers.
She skimmed through the remainder of the letter, not absorbing much. It was mostly admonitions about how her upcoming seventeenth birthday later in the school year would make her an adult. As an adult, it was her duty to show proper decorum and not dishonor her family, especially if she was to have a chance of matching with a proper pureblood. It sounded like it had been written by Aunt Walburga.
Wasting no further time, Bellatrix began her preparations for the day, changing out of her usual nightie, doing her hair, and donning formal, if not slightly provocative, robes for her trip to Gringotts and the shops in Diagon Alley.
On her way out the door, Bellatrix grabbed the Hogwarts letter and slapped it against the door a couple of times. The lack of any clinking from the letter reassured Bellatrix that the nut who ran Hogwarts had not made her a prefect. Satisfied, she secured the unopened letter in a pocket and breezed down the stairs and through the deserted dining room, pausing long enough to snatch a small pastry from the buffet.
Soon, she was waiting on the Gringotts steps for the bank to open, pointedly ignoring the varying glances of those passing by. When the bank opened, Bellatrix was the first through the doors and was soon zipping along in a minecart toward the Black family's vault.
The minecart quickly arrived at the vault entrance. Bellatrix alighted from the cart and proceeded to the vault door as the goblin helped open it. Inside, torches burst to life as Bellatrix entered. The light that reflected on the gold coins strewn about the vault made the handful of torches seem as bright as the noon-day sun.
Having taken advantage of the family's liberal policy on vault visits, Bellatrix had already seen and ogled every item in the vault. So, she strode past the various valuables on display without a second glance and directly toward a corner of the vault where thousands upon thousands of galleons lay on the floor in careless heaps.
One of the heaps was not as careless as it looked. Alternating between climbing and wading through the other heaps, Bellatrix made her way to it and began digging around. After a moment, she triumphantly produced the hair ornament from where she had hidden it during a prior visit.
A smile on her face, Bellatrix made her way back to the main area of the vault, collected her one hundred galleons, and exited the vault. "I am finished, here," Bellatrix said to the goblin standing next to her minecart. "Now, take me to my personal vault."
After a long day of school shopping, Bellatrix had the house to herself for the evening. Her parents and Narcissa had opted to convert Narcissa's school shopping trip into a weekend at Grimmauld Place, the Black family's ancestral home in London. More mature and independently minded, Bellatrix had opted out of the communal Hogwarts shopping trip. As for Andromeda, who was also independent, if she deigned to return from wherever she had gone that evening, she would not disturb her older sister.
In her bedroom on the upper floor, Bellatrix changed into her nightclothes, lit several candles, and worked her way through her shopping bags. She packed most of her textbooks and school items in her school trunk and planned to pack clothes and toiletries closer to the beginning of term.
Having finished with her purchases and packing, Bellatrix turned her focus to the heirloom hair ornament, which she intended to be the intrigue of the night. She flopped onto her bed, grabbed the ornament from her nightstand, and spent several minutes admiring it.
Eventually, she hopped off the bed, went to her closet, and rummaged around until she found some furtively-written notes she had gleaned from slightly illegitimate visits to the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. Although the hair ornament was not so famous as to be a documented artifact, Bellatrix had carefully studied its markings. She had hypothesized that it was a copycat of more legendary artifacts.
Bellatrix's notes did not amount to a user manual. But, Bellatrix felt that she had, at minimum, compiled a collection of spells and procedures that would enable her to safely evaluate and take advantage of the heirloom as much as possible.
Notes in hand, Bellatrix fetched her wand from her dressing table and began with her attempts to exploit the magic of the hair ornament. Occasionally, she would stop to refer to her notes. However, she had largely memorized the experiments she intended to follow.
Bellatrix began with casting safety and privacy charms on herself and around the perimeter of the room. Then, she began casting various charms on the hair ornament. None of the charms had any effect. This was not unanticipated, even if it was slightly concerning to Bellatrix. It simply meant there were fewer functionalities available through the heirloom than she had hoped.
Resigned to the reality that the heirloom was not going to cooperate short of a large investment of magic, Bellatrix geared up for the next experiment. If the heirloom was anything like Bellatrix thought it could be, it seemed like it would be best if it was tied to a blood anchor before it was activated.
Hopefully, the blood anchor would lend some precision to the heirloom's magic. Unfortunately, blood anchors fell within the purview of dark magic. Although she was well versed in the Dark Arts, Bellatrix was not necessarily eager to resort to them since they often involved blood.
Embracing a strange sort of resolve, Bellatrix felt herself drawn to exit her room and make her way to the kitchen where she fetched a mixing bowl and filled it partway with water. She crept back to her room, locked the door, and set the bowl down on her dressing table. Wincing, she cast a simple but painful spell that allowed her to mix some of her blood into the water.
Taking a conjured paintbrush, she knelt and began painting the blood anchor onto the floor, breathing heavily as magic from her was drawn into the anchor. With each stroke of the brush, a dull roaring sound built in Bellatrix's ears. In the distance, Bellatrix thought she could hear lightning strikes, though no thunder followed. She assumed that the dull roar and sound of lighting was the herald of a thunderstorm. But if she had looked out the window, she would have seen the crescent moon hanging in a clear sky.
In short order, the blood anchor was drawn, and Bellatrix was back on her feet. The blood anchor comprised several runes, connected to each other by lines. It had a certain crude, hypnotizing beauty.
Bellatrix picked up the heirloom and carried it toward the blood anchor. As she did, the roar and sound of lightning increased. It was as if she was walking through an invisible thunderstorm. As Bellatrix reached out to set the hair ornament onto the blood anchor, she thought she heard the boom of thunder. Shoving aside caution, she plunked the hair ornament down onto the blood anchor.
As soon as the hair ornament touched the blood anchor, a loud bang sounded through the room. Simultaneously, the loudest lightning strike and crack of thunder Bellatrix had ever heard in her life seemed to shake the room, and she fell onto the floor. Suddenly, the hair ornament was gone. In its place sat a wizard with dark, messy hair.
Although it was theoretically possible, Bellatrix had not expected instant results of this sort from creating the blood anchor. She surveyed the wizard who she had apparently summoned. His clothing was ragged and his face a bit gaunt, but his striking bright green eyes were glowing with a magical light. On his forehead, he carried a lightning-bolt shaped scar that Bellatrix instantly diagnosed as being magic-related. Best of all, he had a presence of power and confidence belied only by his youthful face.
While Bellatrix had been assessing his appearance, this wizard had also been surveying her, his face betraying a mixture of emotions beginning with recognition and incredulity that morphed into something Bellatrix thought could only be iciness or fury. Eventually, the stranger adopted a markedly neutral facial expression and spoke to her.
"What year is it?" he asked.
A thrill shot through Bellatrix. "I-it, it is 1975," she reported, stumbling over her words and feeling almost too excited to speak as she drank in the mysterious wizard and let her imagination run wild. If he was here, then she had sent him. And, she must have sent him for a reason.
He looked at her slightly askance. "I knew you were powerful but I never realized that you were this … clever."
Bellatrix interpreted the wizard's knowledge of her as a good sign. Part of her was offended at him not knowing all along that she was clever. Though, another part of her was feeling excited to have been able to impress this wizard. "What is the plan?" she asked.
This question gave the wizard pause, and he studied her carefully from behind thin lips, pressed tightly together. Finally he spoke. "Show me the inside of your wrists," he instructed.
Caught up in the thrill of the moment and anxious to impress her visitor, Bellatrix did not even hesitate. Her hands shot out, and she twisted them to present the inside of her wrists. The wizard peered at them. "Interesting," he murmured as he looked at her pale wrists.
"What is the plan?" Bellatrix asked again, letting her arms rest. A small part of her wanted to know why the wrists were important to him. But, for the moment, she was more intrigued about the plan.
The wizard paused and continued to study her. Hesitantly, he finally divulged what Bellatrix wanted. "You told me that you would be my lieutenant and that we would conquer," the wizard said.
She is absolutely insane, Harry observed to himself as he watched the teenage Bellatrix sprawled in front of him in her nightwear begin to breathe shallowly and positively sparkle with excitement at the news that she could be his lieutenant in some random conquest. He assumed she was currently a teenager. Although her physique was quite shapely, she had the appearance of youth.
"What is your name?" she asked, standing up from the floor and walking toward Harry.
"Harry," he responded, wondering how much he should reveal to this teenage version of a prominent Death Eater.
"Harry … who?"
"Let's just stick to Harry," Harry suggested as he accepted Bellatrix's help standing up. With the barest bit of annoyance and chagrin, he realized that she was already an inch taller than he was, just like her future self. "Perhaps I should use an alias to avoid awkward questions. I assume that you lose some of the advantage of time travel if people figure it out."
"Right," Bellatrix agreed, "right," as her violet eyes lighted upon the ultimate destination of her heirloom hair ornament, which was now buried in Harry's shoulder, its color blending with his robes. "Would you like help removing that? If you do not mind, I would like it back."
Harry looked at the hair ornament and grimaced. He had almost forgotten. "Can we avoid a hospital?"
"Absolutely," Bellatrix agreed, nodding as she confidently busied herself looking for items that might be helpful with removing the hair ornament from Harry's shoulder.
"Do you have much medical training, then?"
"Er, no, not … really."
"Well, it is just a stab wound," Harry said, partially trying to reassure himself. "Those are not always as bad as they seem."
He allowed himself to be guided to Bellatrix's bed onto which Bellatrix eased him down. Taking steady breaths, Harry tried to relax and exude confidence while Bellatrix bustled around. Before he could quite come to grips with the idea of being nursed by Bellatrix, Harry found himself wincing as she pulled the hair ornament out of his shoulder. This triggered some bleeding.
"Merlin!" Bellatrix exclaimed with exasperation, half under her breath as she moved quickly to replace the ornament with a towel and apply some pressure to slow the bleeding. She awkwardly set the ornament down and grabbed for her wand. A couple of healing spells cleaned out and healed the wound, relieving Harry of most of the pain.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, marveling at how dramatically circumstances had changed. A former nemesis of his had just tended to his wound in her nightwear in her bedroom.
"You are welcome," Bellatrix said absentmindedly as she turned her attention elsewhere. She picked the ornament up and cast some cleaning spells on it. "How far in the future are you from?" she asked casually as she fiddled with the ornament.
"About twenty-five years," Harry answered, seeing no harm in answering the question while he marveled at how Bellatrix had tended to his wounds perfunctorily and moved on without smothering him to death with concern and instructions. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that Bellatrix could sit next to him.
"And what led me to activate the hair ornament?" Bellatrix asked as she accepted Harry's silent invitation and sat next to him on the bed.
Harry shrugged. "You were at the end of the line. I would say you had hours, if not minutes to live. I suppose you thought you may as well activate your, uh, heirloom."
"It makes sense," Bellatrix admitted. "But surely I would have given you instructions. The purpose of time travel is to have a second chance. What am I supposed to do to avoid my fate in your original timeline? How did I die?"
"You were still alive when you stabbed me with that thing," Harry said facetiously, a part of him taking pleasure at tormenting the teenage version of Bellatrix.
"You said I was dying," Bellatrix shot back, losing her composure. "What killed me? How am I going to avoid that same fate?"
Again, Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't around you enough to know much about you. I do know you made some very bad choices and … bad alliances. In the end, your associates abandoned you to your death. I stumbled upon you and was kind of, um, nursing you through your last hours. I think if you work with me, you will be better off in the long run.
"You are being vague," Bellatrix said. "How about you tell me some more specific details?"
Harry squeezed his lips together for a moment as he considered his options. "I think," he said slowly, "that I am not quite ready to explain everything to you."
Instantly, Bellatrix was furious. She stood up and faced him, her fists on her hips. "It was my magic that sent you here," she lectured. "I am entitled to know everything. If you are not going to cooperate with me, then perhaps I will send you back to where you came from." She brandished the hair ornament threateningly.
"I did not ask to be sent here," Harry said coolly. "And if you try to send me back, I think you will find me a formidable adversary. If you want more information, you will have to wait for me to sort things out. I am the one with the upper hand here. Your future self knew it would be this way. She knew that it boiled down to you working for me or working with the people who got you killed. Hence, she proposed that you be my lieutenant."
Bellatrix looked at Harry stonily, but did not respond.
"Besides, to some extent, you may enjoy not knowing everything," Harry said, grasping for other reasons why Bellatrix should accept his reticence. "I am not sure how your hair ornament works, but you went out of your way to not touch it or me when it activated," Harry revealed. "You didn't want to come. I think you could not bear to let your younger self see what you had become. If I had been in your shoes, I am not sure I would have come, either."
Bellatrix's face whitened, but she was still furious. Perhaps she did not believe Harry. Instead of responding, she moved her hands away from her hips and angrily crossed her arms into something of a defensive posture. Though she was angry, Harry could not help but note that she looked very attractive.
Concluding that he was not likely to get far with the teenage version of Bellatrix without disclosing further information, Harry decided that it was time to move on. Telling her about Voldemort and being his equal opposite would be convincing, but dangerous. Perhaps he could tell her more after he had time to evaluate the situation.
He stood slowly, careful to not seem threatening in any way. "I thank you for your hospitality," he said, nodding to his shoulder, "and for the use of the hair ornament. I should be on my way." He subtly twitched his hand, causing his holly and phoenix feather wand to appear in the blink of an eye. He carefully pointed downward and away from Bellatrix.
"No, wait," Bellatrix said, caving as soon as she saw the wand. Perhaps she feared that he was about to cast a memory charm. "We do not have to resolve this tonight."
Harry hesitated. "What are you saying?"
"Please do not leave. I swear I will be your lieutenant," Bellatrix said, sounding like she was begging.
Harry arched an eyebrow, and Bellatrix blushed, realizing how pathetic she had sounded.
She took a moment to gather her wits. When she resumed speaking, she sounded much more self-possessed. "But you are going to have to be fair, or else you will be without a lieutenant. Or, at least a lieutenant as competent as me. And … our discussion on this topic is not over. I want to know everything, but I am not going to throw away this opportunity merely because you are not telling me everything right now. And if I find out that my counterpart in the future did not sign me up to be a lieutenant, there will be consequences"
"Quite," Harry said drily, lacking anything else to say and beginning to consider that he might not want Bellatrix as a lieutenant, even if she stood to benefit from working with him.
"So, we will move forward as best we can, until further notice" Bellatrix decided, plopping back onto the bed while Harry turned to watch her. "When I was talking to you about conquering, what did I mean? What is our goal?"
Harry shrugged. "Seize power and reform society before … the other person does."
"The other person?" asked Bellatrix.
"I'll tell you about that later since it is probably not that urgent, yet," Harry promised. "For now, I am going to go find a place to sleep. I'm exhausted."
"You can stay here," Bellatrix suggested.
"I'd rather not risk running into your family, or anyone else from the magical world, until I've figured out what my strategy is," Harry said.
"A Muggle hotel, then?" Bellatrix suggested.
"Yes," Harry said, even though he had been thinking of one of the caves he had taken to frequenting as the loyal members of the Order had been killed off by traitors in the ranks. The idea of a hotel excited him. It would be nice to sleep in a bed and have a real shower. Except, hotels usually wanted money.
Bellatrix had already thought of the financial need. She jumped off the bed and fetched a dragonhide wallet from her purse. She unzipped the wallet to reveal that it was full of Muggle money.
Harry's eyes widened. "Where did you get that?" he asked, shocked not only that a teenage witch had that much money available to her but also that a pureblood witch was going around with a wallet full of Muggle money.
"I might tell you some other time," Bellatrix said vindictively as she carefully sorted through and picked out some of the bills. She handed them to Harry. "I assume you can find accommodations without further help from your trusty lieutenant," she said as she put the wallet back.
"Yes," Harry said as he accepted the cash from her. Taking a handout from a teenage witch who had grown up to murder his godfather and countless others made him feel dirty and pathetic. But he could think of no practical reason to not take the cash. He and she had entered an uneasy alliance of sorts, and she clearly had plenty to spare.
"Have a nice night, then," Bellatrix said. "We can meet up later to figure out what is next."
"I will plan on it," Harry said. "But maybe you could tell me where we are right now so I can find you again."
"We are just outside of Winchester, at my family's home, which we call Blacksford." Bellatrix revealed.
"Interesting," Harry said, realizing how little he really knew about the background of Bellatrix and her sisters. From his stays in Grimmauld Place, he had gleaned some information about Sirius and his immediate family. However, he had never bothered to inquire into the history of Sirius's cousins.
"Is it?"
Harry was about to explain but stopped himself. "Good night," he said with a polite smile.
Flicking his wand, Harry apparated away from Bellatrix's bedroom. But he did not go very far. Feeling a bit sly, he had apparated to a location a couple of hundred feet away from Bellatrix's house. The terrain near the house was wooded, and Harry was easily able to position and conceal himself to observe the house without being detected.
Blacksford was a slightly dilapidated Victorian mansion with grounds that were more overgrown than not. Harry could see no lights or movement anywhere else in the house save for Bellatrix's bedroom. He pulled out his omnioculars and zoomed in on Bellatrix's bedroom window, curious to see what she would do after he left.
Hopefully she is not about to run off to a Death Eater meeting, Harry thought wryly. He had checked for the Dark Mark. But he knew that the lack of a Dark Mark was not proof that the person could be trusted. Besides which, Harry did not know when precisely Voldemort had started branding his cattle.
From his vantage point, Harry could not see much in Bellatrix's bedroom. The shadows showed Harry that Bellatrix was still in the room, sometimes moving around. After a few minutes, Bellatrix came to her bedroom window and peered out into the darkness, looking directly at Harry. Confident that he was well concealed in the darkness and foliage, Harry did not allow her penetrating gaze to scare him into moving.
Rather than retreat, Harry took a moment to study Bellatrix's appearance more closely than he would have done had he been face-to-face with her. Even at a distance, her eyes, which were set into a beautiful face, were piercing and contributed to her appearing perpetually paranoid and slightly deranged. Her hair, set in an updo at the moment, was black as the night.
After several minutes of Bellatrix looking in his exact direction and not moving an inch, Harry began to feel uncomfortable with what was beginning to feel like a staring contest. He was about to consider whether he should retreat when she abruptly turned on her heel and left the window.
A little bemused by the incident, Harry apparated to an alley in London and proceeded on foot to find an appropriate hotel.
Despite the comfort of a queen-sized hotel bed in a swanky London hotel in which every room featured a fantastic view of the skyline, it took Harry a while to relax and fall asleep. His unexpected journey to 1975 had left him with a massive opportunity, and he was not sure how to use it. The question of what to do about Bellatrix Black also unavoidable.
Harry was not anxious to work with her, closely or otherwise. She had been the enemy for so many years. Her murdering his godfather, Sirius Black, and taunting him afterward was a memory that still haunted Harry, as were others involving her. On the other hand, the teenage Bellatrix had done no such things. It was not fair to hold her actions in another timeline against her. But still, she had the tendency or capacity to do the same things again.
Unbidden, Professor Dumbledore's lesson about choices defining who you are came to Harry's mind. Dumbledore had taught the lesson to Harry when he was having doubts about whether he was truly a Gryffindor. Harry tried to squash the memory, partly because he did not like the conclusion to which it led and partly because Harry carried mixed feelings about Dumbledore.
As well-intentioned as the aged headmaster had been, his plans for how the war against Voldemort should be conducted had not resulted in victory and had left Harry feeling more like a sacrificial lamb instead of a credible threat to Voldemort or anyone else.
Moreover, as the words Bellatrix had uttered before sending him to the past had sunk in, Harry had realized that Dumbledore had, in many ways, squandered the opportunity between Voldemort's initial fall and his return, despite the best of intentions. The more Harry reflected, the more he realized Dumbledore had done too little too late.
Harry shoved the entire subject of Dumbledore out of his mind as pragmatic thoughts about Bellatrix's potential crept in. The fact that Bellatrix was a powerful witch was undeniable. The mere fact that she would be with Harry instead of Voldemort would be a significant advantage, even if Bellatrix did nothing useful for Harry. It would be illogical to reject Bellatrix's assistance. He could, of course, be careful about what he told her about the future and his plans.
Having tentatively concluded that he may as well work with Bellatrix to some degree and that he could later work out how much he told her about the future and his plans, Harry felt comfortable enough to shelve the problems facing him and fall asleep.
Harry would have slept in until noon, but the prospect of a complimentary hot breakfast lured him to the hotel's dining room the next morning. As he entered the dining room, he was surprised to see Bellatrix sitting at one of the tables stirring a chocolate candy bar into a steaming hot mug of hot chocolate. Her face completely blase, she continued stirring the hot chocolate while pointedly making eye contact with Harry.
Annoyed and embarrassed that Bellatrix had tracked him down so easily, Harry broke eye contact with her while he went to the buffet to pile his plate high with eggs, sausage, and other favorite items–some of which he might have otherwise foregone if were not for him wanting to delay his next interaction with Bellatrix.
Eventually, Harry gave in to the inevitable and took a seat across from her, feeling a bit grouchy. His mood worsened when he realized that he, in his wanderer's clothing, looked like an immature slob when compared to Bellatrix, who had dressed and done her makeup and hair as if she was attending Sunday brunch with the Queen. She was even wearing a proper hat.
Already suspecting the answer and feeling all the stupider for it, Harry asked the question. "How did you track me down?"
"The money I gave you had some strings attached," Bellatrix confessed as she finished stirring her candy bar into the hot chocolate and set the spoon onto her saucer. She twisted her lips in disgust. "Too bad you have gone and spent it all in one place."
"Well, I have an idea that I might be coming into an inheritance soon," Harry said as he watched her pick up the hot chocolate and take a sip. He began eating his own breakfast.
"How do you reckon?" Bellatrix asked, pausing between sips.
Harry reached into the collar of his shirt. He fished out and showed Bellatrix a chain necklace. Hanging on it was a large golden ring set with a large piece of onyx.
Bellatrix's eyes widened as she stared at the ring. "Is that what I think it is?"
"I daresay it is," Harry said as he returned the ring-laden necklace to its place under his shirt.
Bellatrix set down the hot chocolate on the saucer and considered this new development while Harry enjoyed his breakfast and her consternation. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
It did not take Bellatrix long to adapt to this new information and follow-up on it. "Are you my son?" she asked.
"No."
"Grandson?"
"No."
"My brother?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Obviously not."
Satisfied, Bellatrix picked up her hot chocolate. "Well, that eliminates the risk of us committing incest," she said judiciously.
Harry began choking violently as a mouthful of eggs went down the wrong tube in his throat. His coughing was so violent that other hotel guests began to stare. All the while, Bellatrix sipped her chocolate as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Eventually, Harry recovered his composure. "Perhaps you would also be interested to know that I'm not your nephew or first cousin, either."
Bellatrix shrugged dismissively and took another sip of chocolate.
It was at this point that Harry realized that Bellatrix might already be a sociopath of some sort. "And the plan is that you're going to be my lieutenant, not something … else," Harry clarified, pointing his fork at Bellatrix. The very thought of having a romantic relationship with her gave Harry the chills.
"I take it you were raised by lower class Muggles of some sort," Bellatrix observed, sounding a bit disappointed.
Harry did not respond and chose to focus on his meal as he realized that she was not thinking of a romantic relationship at all. As a pureblood, she saw such relationships as pragmatic alliances.
"We will not rush anything," Bellatrix promised, her tone a combination of reassurance and mockery. "There will have to be extensive negotiations before we actually enter into a marital arrangement."
"You can say that again," Harry mumbled, not even wanting to think about how such negotiations would go.
"Fortunately, if that ring means what I think it does, we will be able to leave my Uncle Orion out of the negotiations entirely," Bellatrix prattled on. Suddenly her face brightened. "And now that I think of it, from a strictly technical viewpoint, you can act as my legal guardian. That will streamline a lot of our activities."
"Shouldn't my being able to act as your guardian concern you?" Harry asked slyly.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "You do not scare me."
"Is that so?" Harry asked.
Bellatrix nodded.
Harry shrugged, seeing no point in disabusing her of that notion for the time being. On the other hand, he was not sure what he could do or would do to convince her otherwise.
Preoccupied with new information and possibilities, Bellatrix finished her hot chocolate without further comment. Grateful for the reprieve, Harry shoved her outrageous comments out of his mind and focused on finishing his breakfast.
As soon as he finished, Bellatrix spoke up. "Shall we get to the bank without further delay? They have reduced hours on Saturday, you know."
Upon his and Bellatrix's arrival at Gringotts, Harry presented the Black family ring and laid claim to whatever that might entitle him. This triggered a meeting between Harry, Bellatrix, and several of the governing goblins of the bank. To Harry, the meeting resembled a court hearing more than anything else.
After confirming Harry's status as the owner of the ring and ascertaining that there were now two Black rings in existence, the goblins quickly comprehended that time travel had occurred. They were peeved, and a long debate ensued.
It was fortunate that Harry had brought Bellatrix along because she was the one who won the debate. Once Bellatrix pointed out that the Blacks, by owning and keeping a time travel object in their vault, had assumed liability for all risks associated with its use, the goblins were happy to turn a blind eye to Harry's activities. If the other Blacks found out, it would be an internal problem for the Black family to iron out.
Harry would have left it at that, but Bellatrix pushed for more. She pointed out that Harry would likely outlive Orion Black and become the sole owner of the account. And, in exchange for Harry revealing a few financial "predictions," to be carefully curated by Bellatrix, the goblins agreed they would go so far as to accidentally conceal Harry's activities as best they could, so long as Harry treaded lightly and did not draw attention.
In short order, Harry and Bellatrix were walking out of the bank with bags full of gold and wallets full of Muggle cash.
"We should buy you some essentials," Bellatrix suggested.
"I am still wanting to avoid meeting anybody," Harry said. "But if you wanted to pick up what you think I need, I would appreciate it."
Bellatrix looked Harry up and down with a judgmental eye. "It seems like your participation in the shopping would be more detrimental than helpful."
"Maybe so," Harry said, not sure if she was assenting to go shopping for him or not.
Bellatrix sighed and then saluted. "Never fear, Harry. Your trusty shopping lieutenant is on the job."
As Bellatrix proceeded to wander Diagon Alley, she used the time to think. The instant she had seen that Harry was in possession of the Black family ring, Bellatrix had comprehended that the opportunity for her to marry him was simply too good to pass up. The more Bellatrix thought about it, the more she convinced herself that a marriage was essential. If Harry married anyone else, it would hamstring Bellatrix's ability to benefit from Harry's knowledge of the future.
Then of course, there was money. The Blacks were among the most wealthy of the pureblood families. If Bellatrix married Harry, and negotiated good terms in the marriage contract, she would be the mistress of the House of Black and have access to all the money she needed.
"But how to pull it off," she mused aloud.
"Pardon me?" the clerk at the clothing store asked as she finished packaging up some underwear Bellatrix had bought for Harry.
"Never mind," Bellatrix said obliviously as she accepted the package and exited the store, pondering on the anticipated difficulties of convincing Harry to marry her.
Harry had already rebuffed the idea of marriage. To Bellatrix's chagrin, nothing Harry had done or said betrayed that he harbored even the slightest interest in Bellatrix. In fact, I am not sure he likes me that much, Bellatrix mused as she stepped into a luggage shop and went through the motions of selecting a suitcase for Harry.
"I am good looking and dress well," Bellatrix mumbled. "So, that ought to count for something."
"Not here it doesn't," the shopkeeper said.
"What?" Bellatrix asked, exasperated, before realizing she had spoken aloud. "I was not talking to you," she clarified, frowning at the shopkeeper as she forked over the money to pay for Harry's new travel case. It looked like a Muggle satchel. However, its interior was magically enlarged.
Realizing that she could use it to hold her shopping bags, Bellatrix stopped on the way out and loaded everything she had purchased so far into it.
It was later in the evening by the time Bellatrix finished shopping. She had been thorough in her purchases for Harry and had done some shopping for herself, too. After an argument with the hotel clerk, Bellatrix learned Harry's room number and proceeded there, magically bypassing the lock and letting herself in.
Inside she found that Harry had turned a chair toward the window and was staring out at the London skyline. The glance he shot at her from the chair showed that he was miffed by her letting herself into his room.
"Aren't you likely to draw the Ministry's ire if you go around doing underage magic?" Harry asked.
"I take it you were raised by Muggles," Bellatrix responded.
Harry frowned. "Being raised by Muggles seems to be quite disadvantageous."
"I would not know," Bellatrix said, holding up and displaying his new travel case, already packed with all her purchases for him. "Here's everything you might need."
"Thank you," Harry said. He turned back to the window. "Be sure to reimburse yourself from my funds."
Bellatrix felt she had earned more interaction than that. She set down the travel case and her personal purchases and helped herself to another chair, positioning it near Harry.
Eventually, Harry broke the silence. "I'm still not sure how to … conquer. But I think I will need a new identity, or background, if I am to avoid people figuring out I am a time traveler and if I am to have any hope of getting into any prominent or powerful positions. Though, I would be happy to skip all that nonsense and just …" His voice trailed off.
"Just what?" Bellatrix asked once it became clear Harry would not finish his sentence.
"Nothing," Harry muttered.
Bellatrix opted not to press him to finish the sentence, hoping that giving him space would eventually entice him into sharing. Instead, she latched onto what he had shared. "Well, you are right about obtaining an identity."
"How do you think I should do it?" Harry asked.
Bellatrix shrugged. "It depends on the type of identity."
"I am not sure that I am following."
"If you were not too picky, it would be easy enough to falsify Muggle identification papers and then claim that your dearly departed mother never sent you to Hogwarts. You would say you were homeschooled on magic."
"That sounds easy enough for us to set up and hard for anyone to disprove," Harry said, beginning to sound more cheerful.
"Yes," Bellatrix agreed. "But then you will have a harder time connecting with the right people. It is not much better than a basic alias. What you need, Harry, is a pureblood identity. That is not going to be easy."
Harry did not seem thrilled, and he was also beginning to think of other difficulties without Bellatrix's help. "At some point, Ollivander will tell everyone he never sold me a wand."
"What if you got your wand from somewhere else?"
"Somewhere else?"
"You are a pureblood born in another country, and you are now coming to England," Bellatrix declared, tentatively solving both the wand and identity problems.
Harry nodded approvingly. "It would be harder for anyone to confirm or deny. But doesn't it make it hard to have influence on our Ministry if I am a foreigner?"
Bellatrix leaned back in her chair and went back to the mental drawing board. It did not take her long since she was already more than halfway there. "You are a pureblood born in another country to an expatriate family. Technically, you are British."
"I would still be an outsider," Harry mused.
"We will have to use your wealth to bridge the gap," Bellatrix said sagely as she shifted in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and pointedly looked into Harry's eyes. "Also, an alliance with the Black family would open doors and cement you into society."
"You purebloods do like money," Harry said, seemingly oblivious to her sly proposal. "I am still not entirely convinced. But if we did that, what country do you think I should be from?"
"It would need to be a country to which multiple British pureblood families have moved and then maybe stayed longer than originally planned," Bellatrix mused.
"Former colonies or where the British have been, then." Harry said. "What about the United States or Canada?"
"Moving to the UK from the United States or Canada would not be as convincing. Besides, to protect yourself from background checks, you should choose a country that is going to have a harder time confirming or denying your whereabouts or that would outright refuse to cooperate with an inquiry."
"I had a friend whose brother worked in Egypt for a while," Harry revealed.
Bellatrix stewed over that for a few moments. "I think it might work," she said. "Of course, we would have to go there and poke around to see if there is anything on which we can build a background and identity."
It was nearly noon the next day, Sunday, when Bellatrix approached her father, Cygnus Black, to broach the subject of a quick jaunt to Egypt. He had spent the weekend at Grimmauld Place and had returned after Sunday brunch to attend to personal business.
"Daddy?" Bellatrix asked as she walked into her father's study.
From the mountain of financial statements and reports lying on his desk, Cygnus Black looked up at his oldest daughter as she walked into the room. "You are out of bed early," he said teasingly.
Bellatrix glanced at the clock before scowling. "I get out of bed in the morning. In fact, I have been waiting all morning for you to come home."
"It was hard to sneak away," he said, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. He gave Bellatrix a conspiratorial glance. "Hopefully your mother will not notice my absence too soon. Anyway, what do you want?"
"Who says I want anything?" Bellatrix asked innocently.
"You only call me Daddy when you want something," he pointed out cheerfully. "And it works."
Knowing that it was true, Bellatrix did not waste time arguing the point and moved on. "My friend's family is going on holiday to Egypt, and they invited me."
For some reason, Cygnus seemed both surprised and relieved to hear that Bellatrix had a friend. "How long is the trip?" he asked.
"Maybe a week," Bellatrix answered. "The accommodations are booked, and there is plenty of room for me. I have enough saved to cover meals if necessary."
"It is fine with me if you go," Cygnus said. "Your mother may or may not notice, so long as you do not miss the last Saturday of August. In fact," he said with a wink, "out of the generosity of my heart, I will not even bring your absence to her attention."
"I will be back in time," Bellatrix promised.
"And maybe you should make a list of any eligible young wizards you come across," Cygnus suggested, a slightly cynical tone in his voice. "If your mother is angry when you get back, you can drop some names and divert her with thoughts of matchmaking."
Bellatrix smiled mysteriously. "Maybe I will bring one back with me."
"I hope you are planning on us using a portkey to get home," Bellatrix groused as she peered out the window of the Pan Am aircraft she and Harry had boarded in London.
"That will depend on whether I have the requisite identity papers to obtain portkey clearance," Harry said evenly, looking at a magazine instead of his seatmate.
He had spent much of the flight reading to remain sane while Bellatrix nattered about the slowness and inefficiency of their flight. She had at least avoided topics that should not be overheard by other people on the plane and been surprisingly cooperative about dressing up as a Muggle. Although, she had opted for business attire, which, paired with her age, made her stand out more than if she had just dressed as she normally did. As for Harry, his clothing was more nondescript. Bellatrix had bought him a wide variety of clothing, including Muggle outfits.
Harry let out a sigh of relief as the pilot announced their imminent arrival in Cairo. He snapped shut the flight magazine and stuffed it in the seatback pocket as Bellatrix peered out at the ground below and suspiciously observed the landing process as best she could in the fading light of dusk.
Upon exiting the plane, luggage in hand, Harry and Bellatrix apparated themselves past Muggle customs and made their way to the hotel unofficially known as the Cairo Palace. There, Harry shepherded Bellatrix toward the front desk, where it was soon their turn to speak with the clerk.
Harry decided to be facetious. "My daughter and I are wondering if you have any last-minute openings," he announced.
Bellatrix glared at Harry and stepped forward to insert herself into the conversation. "Do you really think he looks old enough to have a daughter my age?" she asked, smiling at the clerk and striking a pose designed to emphasize her business attire, height, and maturity.
The middle-aged clerk shot Harry an appraising glance. "He does look young. But the eyes betray his age, dearie. As for you, well …. you look very mature for your age." She shook her head, shot Harry a sympathetic glance, and directed the remainder of the conversation exclusively toward him. "What kind of suite were you hoping for?"
"Just two modest rooms," Harry said before the peeved Bellatrix could respond.
The clerk thumbed through the ledger. "We don't put minors in their own rooms," she informed Harry. "How about a small suite with two bedrooms?"
"That would be fine," Harry acquiesced.
The clerk checked them in using the pseudonyms Harry proffered and gave Harry the room keys. Harry and Bellatrix then proceeded toward their suite, with Bellatrix fuming the whole way. As they approached the room, Bellatrix snatched one of the keys out of Harry's hand and used it to open the door. As soon as they were inside with the door shut, she vocally expressed her displeasure.
"Daughter? Really?"
"You are a minor," Harry yawned as he explored the suite and poked his head into each of the bedrooms. "And you did point out that as Lord Black, I can pass myself off as your guardian." He picked one of the bedrooms and tossed his travel case onto the bed.
Bellatrix glared at him before stalking over to the other bedroom and inspecting it. Apparently satisfied, she went in and shut the door. From the sounds Harry could hear through the door, he surmised that she was unpacking. Pleased to have a break from interacting with Bellatrix, Harry shifted a chair toward the window and took up his traditional position.
When Bellatrix finally emerged from her bedroom, she was wearing a swimsuit. "I will be at the swimming pool," she announced with studied casualness.
"Fabulous," Harry said, sparing Bellatrix no more than a quick glance and resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her attempt to assert her independence and maturity. "Don't wake me up when you get back."
The next morning, Harry and Bellatrix had breakfast in the hotel dining room and then struck out toward the local Gringotts branch, hoping that the goblins could at least point them in the right direction. This turned out to be a fortunate move on their part since the bank happened to offer the exact thing Harry needed.
The local goblins were less scrupulous than their British counterparts, and they had a list of wizards whose deaths had gone unnoticed and whose estates had been dormant, leaving their money unclaimed in Gringotts vaults. For the right price, the goblins would allow Harry assume the identity of one of these dead wizards. The process was complicated, as one might expect, considering the illegality of it all.
Harry could negotiate with and pay the bank for the name of one of these people. He would then find a forger to draw up proper documents sufficient to "convince" the bank Harry was their long lost customer. The goblins would then pocket the money in the deceased wizard's vault and turn the vault over to Harry. If Harry needed further "assistance" to replace "lost or stolen" or "inaccurate" documents, the goblins could also provide those services at the standard prices.
Harry's initial reaction was that it was all too much of a scam. "What do we really get out of this?" he whispered tersely to Bellatrix as the goblins looked on. "We will literally be paying them to rip off another customer."
"A dead customer," Bellatrix shrugged. "The value is that they curate the name. That saves us countless hours searching for the perfect name and background. Having an older and more established bank account really will make you seem legitimate." She glanced furtively toward the goblins and lowered her voice even further. "Besides, if the person whose name we buy had a vault in London, we will have the rights to that vault, too, except that these goblins will not be able to seize that vault."
"I am guessing that will be included in the price," Harry whispered back. He grumbled for a while but eventually informed the goblins that their proposal was agreeable.
This launched a long and complicated negotiation between the goblins and Harry and Bellatrix. The goblins were not about to disclose the entire list of names, and Harry and Bellatrix were not about to accept any random name. Again, Bellatrix proved immensely useful as they went back and forth on the minimum identity attributes and price. It was akin to buying a car sight unseen based only on year, mileage, and hints as to the make and model.
Eventually, they settled on a wizard born in 1940 in Aswan, who would now be thirty-five years old. The wizard and his parents had died about the time of the war with Grindelwald, and Gringotts had been only too happy to watch as information about their deaths fell through the cracks. At this point, relatives cognizant of their existence and potential heirs had aged and died. The goblins assured Harry and Bellatrix that the mother had a magical background, that the father had been born to British expatriates from a pureblood family, and that Harry should have no trouble entering British society as a pureblood without running into anybody who actually knew anything about the dead wizard or even his parents..
Harry and Bellatrix paid the goblins for the name, and the goblins delivered the name to them in a sealed envelope with instructions on what to do next. Harry and Bellatrix then left the bank and stopped at a charming cafe with a good view of the pyramids and ordered themselves lunch.
"Ready to find out your new name?" Bellatrix asked gleefully as she waved the envelope at Harry.
Harry nodded, feeling a mix of resignation and intrigue.
Bellatrix ripped open the envelope and looked at a piece of parchment from within. She began to laugh mischievously. "Your name is now Caesaronnicus Finkledinkerston."
Hoping that she was joking, Harry cracked a smile and took the parchment from her. On it, he found written the actual name of the identity he and Bellatrix had just purchased.
Henry Ptolemy Ashworth
Harry wrinkled his nose. It was not terrible, but it was a bit old-fashioned for Harry's taste.
"I have heard the name Ashworth before," Bellatrix said brightly. "It is on a lot of pureblood pedigrees, but usually closer to the nineteenth century. Everyone you meet will think the name sounds familiar. And, you can tell everyone that your nickname is Harry."
"Well, Harry Ashworth sounds okay," Harry admitted. He poked at the local ethnic food they had been served and braved a couple of bites. "So, now we get some random forger to cook up paperwork."
Bellatrix was examining a list from inside the envelope. "The goblins have provided options. I vote that we go to one of the ones in Aswan since they will be closer to where your namesake lived. But first," she said, nodding toward the pyramids, "we should look at those."
After an afternoon and evening of pyramid inspecting, Harry and Bellatrix apparated to Aswan the following morning, where hiring the first forger on the list the goblins had provided proved to be startlingly simple. It was as if Gringotts had primed him ahead of time. Or, perhaps he had helped them investigate the name prior to them marketing it. The only difficulty was that it would take him several days to work everything up.
The forger promised to meet Harry and Bellatrix back in Cairo with identity papers and a biography of the mysterious Harry Ashworth that Harry could use to talk about his past without foreclosing any options. Harry and Bellatrix paid him half upfront and promised to pay the rest upon delivery.
Having nothing better to do, Harry and Bellatrix shopped around in the local open market, looked at a few ancient monuments, and, on impulse, bought tickets for a Muggle river cruise back to Cairo.
Bellatrix handled the booking. The ticket agent laughed off her attempt to claim that Harry was her son. On the other hand, she did not peg Bellatrix as a minor. So, she and Harry had adjoining cabins to themselves.
Harry thoroughly enjoyed the cruise. It proceeded at a leisurely pace, stopped at major tourist attractions, and had fine dining and entertainment in between. For the first time in a couple of years, aside from the occasional interaction with Bellatrix, Harry could feel himself relaxing.
Fortunately, for the sake of Harry and his ability to relax, Bellatrix was enamored by the tourist sites and scenery and stayed out of Harry's way. Though, when given the opportunity, Harry would discreetly observe her as she shopped or explored. He concluded that the cruise was as beneficial for her as it was for him. Out of her natural habitat, Bellatrix seemed less calculating. Instead of plotting, she was enjoying.
In Luxor, Bellatrix went on a shopping spree for souvenirs while the boat was docked. Somehow, she stumbled upon an ancient Egyptian spellbook in the Muggle market and brought that back to the boat, triumphant, to show Harry her great find and tell him about how it could have forgotten spells in it. Harry was a little startled at the relief he felt when instead of ciphering out the spells and practicing them, as Hermione Granger would have done, Bellatrix tossed the book in her luggage. If she was going to actually study it, she would do it on her own time without harassing him.
The cruise ended with the boat docking in Cairo. Harry and Bellatrix made their way back to the original hotel and booked a two-bedroom suite like the first. The next morning, their forger friend from Aswan met them for breakfast to deliver the papers and receive the second half of his payment.
Harry spent the morning reviewing the history the forger had gathered and created. That afternoon, he and Bellatrix went back to the local Gringotts and "claimed" the Ashworth vault.
The goblins were "surprised" that Harry had grown up so much since the 1940s. They helped him update his account details and bring everything current. They accepted a handful of galleons as Harry's deposit into the vault to keep it active.
In a gesture that would be considered generous, were it not for the thousands of galleons already paid to them, the goblins arranged all of Harry and Bellatrix's travel paperwork for their journey back to the UK and booked them a portkey.
Upon arrival in the UK, Harry would need only report to the Ministry of Magic to domesticate his apparition license. If he chose, he could check with Gringotts in London to see if there was an Ashworth vault there to which he was entitled. From thereon forward, Harry would have a pureblood identity difficult to disprove, especially if he was careful to say very little about his background.
That night, Harry and Bellatrix splurged on dinner in the overpriced restaurant at the Cairo Palace. The food was sublime and the ambience enchanting. Apparently excited for the experience, Bellatrix had dressed up in a lavender-colored formal with black trim and gone overboard with her eyeshadow and eyeliner. As she vivaciously chattered and luxuriated in the fantasy of their surroundings, Harry tried to maintain a façade of interest and contentment.
However, feelings of dread and disbelief dominated Harry's mind. Tomorrow, they would be returning to the UK, where it would be up to Harry to stop Voldemort and conquer society so that Voldemort or some other dark lord would not gain traction again.
Harry feared that people would die no matter what he did. But he reckoned he had to try. He knew he would not be able to bear standing back what would inevitably happen and knowing that he could have done something but had not. He also doubted whether he could avoid Voldemort forever. Surely, the prophecy applied somehow, even in the past. But as it was, Harry was still not sure how to best take advantage of his time travel opportunity.
Meanwhile, Harry's only ally, and biggest liability, at the moment, was a teenage witch whose natural tendencies had, in the original timeline, led her to be a high-ranking Death Eater. To top it off, he was pretty sure she was, to some degree, already mentally ill.
Over the last few days, Harry had settled into an uneasy acceptance of Bellatrix's quirks and constant presence near his side. He believed that she had not yet made and might never make the reprehensible choices she had made in the future. Despite knowing that this Bellatrix was not the same one from the future, Harry still found himself having to keep reminding himself of that fact.
Harry was also aware that in exchange for the time travel opportunity, he owed Bellatrix something. Her future self had demanded that he be kind to her. And her younger self had been helpful upon his arrival in the past, sparing him cash for a hotel, shopping for his necessities and personal effects, and dealing with the goblins. If he wanted to continue to benefit from her help, he was going to have to make sure she felt it was a good investment.
Looking across the table, Harry caught Bellatrix's violet eyes with his own, and forced a smile onto his face. "I think we are well on our way." His words did not mean much, but it conveyed the impression that he was engaged in the conversation.
Bellatrix looked back at Harry and grinned, almost like a violet-eyed maniac, as she brandished a large steak knife and cut into a sizable medium-rare steak. "Yes, I think so."