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A Year And a Day

By ShadowedSin

 

Arc 1 - Consequences

 

Chapter 1 - Rules From Mother

Britain in the 1960s

Bellatrix Black

"Beware sweetling, beware what wishes you make," her mother told her before her sisters were born, and before her father began his tutelage in the dark arts. Well before he took the strap of his belt to her when she asked too many questions. And before her mother stopped caring about her. Always that one warning to never make a wish without thinking. There were other rules, of course, rules for everything one could think. Being the blood of the blessed twenty-eight only made the rules more complicated. Even as she grew older all she learned were new rules and more unpleasant punishments were applied.

---

Bella grew up into the perfect little doll for her parents, well, at least until after Cissy was born. First, she was a good girl at Hogwarts and even started preparing hard for her OWLs. Problem was, that was until she kissed Genie Fitzgerald in fifth year; then it all went to shit. That Umbridge bint hadn't tattled on her or the rest of the bloody Gryffindors turned on Genie quicker than a snitch. No, instead her parents were informed and so were the Fitzgeralds. The two families had once married amongst themselves back during the 18th and their alliance was ended. A 'pureborn' woman did not kiss or lust after other women, and when she was dragged home that Yule, a week early, all she knew was pain.

It wasn't just the beatings, it was the severe depression created by the utter contempt her mother held for her. If not for Andromeda she would have likely hung herself finally after she gave into those little whispers that told her to end it. Narcissa was the one who took away her knives to prevent her from slitting her wrists. Without her little sisters Bella wouldn't have survived Yule, let alone Summer. After she was outed at school she was cast aside with the likes of Grindlewald as another 'dark witch' who was tainted by the shadow. By the end of it Genie was forbidden from being left in a room alone with her and half the purebloods in school treated her like a leper.

At least she had her sisters, and by Morgana they were stuck at her side. After fifth year ended, Summer was as miserable as predicted. The eldest black sister experienced all of her records burned before her eyes. Bella's room was rendered down to nothing but a single armoire, her girliest clothes, and her bed. Oh sure she has the illusion of luxury created by the pureblood life. Monkee, her beloved House-Elf Governess, still brought her blackberry scones with clotted cream (her favorite) when she could steal it from the kitchen. During the day her father trained her in dueling and during the night her mother schooled her on proper etiquette till midnight. Whenever she was let out of the house it was always under the eyes of a relative.

School was the only time she could be herself, but it was always under the worry that one of her "friends" would send word to her parents. She knew that toady Umbridge was against her, and she didn't trust Louis Malfoy. Another year at Hogwarts and her seventeenth birthday came and went. For more than a year she'd watched both parents speaking to other important heads of household. The worst was Alphonse LeStrange, the head of the infamous family with its Grindlewald sympathies. Dark wizards of the highest order, but had fallen on hard times since the defeat by her least favorite teacher decades before.

"Bella!" her mother barked at her one evening when she was doing needle point in the parlour. The young ravenhead looked up from the order and shook her head. Cobwebs parted from her vision and she returned to focus. After years of faking to do needlepoint and embroidery Bella was very apt at repeating the same action over and over again.

"Yes....mother?" she asked.

Druella Rosier Black let out a demonstrative sigh at her daughter's reticence. Once Bellatrix had been the apple of her eye, and now she was the literal Black sheep of the family. The tall woman's frame dwarfed her elfin daughter, of the three sisters, she was the shortest. Green eyes bore into her daughter's as the girl did her best not to flinch in her mother's presence.

"Get up you have," her mother rubbed her jaw, "-you have a guest to meet."

Bella's eyes flicked from her mother to the door. The grand parlour of Black House was resplendent in nineteenth century fashion. A grand fireplace sat at one end, its redbrick disappeared under velvet covered walls. Above it on the mantle sat the five pictures of her beloved family. Her parents each standing before the grand family tree of their family each standing quite grim and proper. The Black daughters were then featured in each of their rooms, either sitting or appearing to be doing a particular hobby. She liked to use little details around her to hide her dislike of conversation and desire by others to force her into it.

Smoothing out her skirts the young girl rose to her feet and followed as her mother beckoned her. The drab hallways of the house were just more place holders for over glorious paintings depicting the triumphs of the House of Black. Her black mary janes thudded on the ground as she tried her best to remain the appropriate distance from her mother. Druella swept her out into the large foyer of the family home, with its grand chairs, egyptian divan, and massive classical Edwardian couch. The family colors appeared in minute details with black being the primary accent of various pieces of furniture.

What she met in the foyer was one Rodolphus Aleister Lestrange, a tall pale lightly tan youth with the pallour of someone who spent too much time over a potion cauldron. His fine robes were finely kept and his hair fell in a medium length above his head. Pale blues met hers and she felt herself overcome with worry. What is he doing here? The thought swirled as she felt the worry growing with each step, her mind unable to focus or remotely slow down.

"Mother?" she forced herself to say, "Who is this?"

"Dearest, you -know- Rodolphus," Druella stated.

"Yes...but why is he here?" she snapped causing her mother to frown.

"Oh well Bellatrix, he is here as your father and his father finally agreed to your match." The words caused her entire world to freeze and the thudding of her heart to grow with each beat. Thudding consumed her hearing as all of her own internal worries rushed to the forefront.

"Bellatrix?" Rodolphus spoke and stared at the girl. Her eyes were distant, her lips slightly parted, and her breathing slowly gaining in speed.

"Merlin," Druelle cursed before snaking her hand into her daughter's thick curls and yanking hard. "Listen here dearest, you are to be married, and you will do as your father says."

Bella instantly snapped out of her decision-riddled panic. Her mind slowed back to that instant as she realized that not only was she being cast aside, she was being married off to end any scandal attached to her name.

"Ye-yes mother," she spoke before turning her gaze back to Rodolphus.

"We are to be married a year and a day after you complete Hogwarts," he replied.

"A year and a day?" she asked curious attempting to keep her mind from speeding up again.

"Yes, it has a significance in the Old Ways," he replied.

"Ah - interesting," she replied.

All she was now was a piece of property to be sold? To be given away?! By the Old Gods and the Old Magick she wished there was something better.

 But her face showed nothing of her internal turmoil, only the obedient teenager her parents hands trained her to be.

"Good, now you must return to NEWT preparation in your room," her mother snapped. And she was taken away back to her room. Back to the place where she would await a marriage she didn't want, and her destiny to disappear into obscurity.

Night, May 2nd, 1998 - Greengrass Estate

Bellatrix Black

"Beware of deals made where the roads meet."
-Gaelic Witch Proverb

It was a dark night consumed in the horror of loss and the pain of the unknowable. In a single instant a once glorious day was rendered in an instant to be ash in her hands. Her lord was dead, killed by the very boy who now stood as Master of Death. Oh how had she fallen, and how quickly she fled. Craven, she was a coward and fled in the face of the end of the Death Eater cause. Sure, there were likely others who could rise to power and claim it in the name of their Dark Lord. But no one was the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle was, nor would anyone ever claim his mantle ever again. No, all she could do was hold her little girl to her chest, and do her best to find a way to keep her away from the grimy hands of Shacklebolt's ministry!

Above her the storm clouds thundered and threatened rain. She streaked through the air on her broom as a cold wind bit her flesh and tried to kiss her daughter’s face. Delphini was only a toddler, two years maybe, just old enough to remember the barest hints of her mother's warm embrace. The rain finally started and as her black dress became sodden with the freezing rain she finally sighted her destination, Greengrass House. Home of her once love, Genevieve Fitzgerald Greengrass, and perhaps the last hope for her daughter.

By now the cold wind was shearing at her face, and her lips and nose were numb. The woman's ears hurt from the cold and as she came in to land her booted feet skipped over the top of a hedge lining the House's driveway. With her broom in one hand and her daughter in the other she leaned against the door for a breather. The wind appeared to still as she reached the House's perimeter. Perhaps a ward of some sort to redirect the weather's fury? Genie was always a good weather witch. The memory gave her a little respite in the face of what she would ask.

I could have gone to Cissy...but no...she can't know where I'm going.

It was the death of her Dark Lord that gave Bellatrix Black the clarity of mind that her actions were going to finally come crashing down around her. Consequences waiting in the wings for years were about to seize her. The aging witch knew she had her daughter to think about, but her sisters as well. Even her middle sister Andromeda mattered to her after years of silence from both stubborn sisters..

Taking a moment to compose herself and a Drying Charm to clean off her form she knocked thrice on the aging oak door. The massive iron knocker thundered as a loud crack sounded out beside her. There stood a small House Elf dressed in a piece of sown tapestry with the sigil of the House on it in a mockery of the old liveried servants of England.

"What does Misses LeStrange need?" the Elf asked. The words caused Bella to recoil in rage, but as she did she could feel eyes on her as if she were surrounded. Dammit, Genie must have hired someone to guard the House. Stupid Irish Hitwizards.

Her mind returned to calm as much as it could, and whatever eyes watching her removed themselves.

"I need to speak with Mistress Greengrass, now, if possible, for the safety of my daughter!" she said, pitching her voice as adult as she could get. Her markedly childish voice was useless now.

"Mistress Fitzgerald Greengrass will see you then in the parlour," the elf disapparated with a crack. A loud groan came from beside her as the door opened inward and a rush of warm air greeted her gaze. Unlike the interior of Black House, Greengrass House was filtered with pleasant bright cold colors. Greens of the family's generally Slytherin heritage bled through from what Bella could make out from the threshold. Delphini started to move in her arms as she held the little girl closer and the words "mumah" came out as a whisper.

"Sshh, sweetling, mum has you," she said and took a step into the foyer. A massive crested shield stood over the opposite doorway. Beside her sat a rack to doff one's hat and cloak, and the elf from earlier waited just inside. The sigil of the Greengrass Dynasty was the Or Laurel over a Vert Field. "Honor and Prestige" read in elegant calligraphy below it. Unlike many of the old Norman families that made up the golden twenty-eight the Greengrasses claimed descent from the older Anglo-Saxon and Norse families from the Danelaw. Even now as she strolled forward the Elf watched her with large liquid brown eyes. The foyer was smaller than that of Black House, but as she made her way down the hall she could feel the words of the family in the back of her mind.

In the wake of staying neutral during the war, the Greengrass family's home was stoic in its design. The usual pictures of previous family heads raced across the walls as she came to a stop in front of the grand parlour before her. Immediately she noticed how both Greengrass and Black House shared designers in some fashion. At the end of the parlour was a large fire with a massive family tree painted elegantly upon its brick chimney line. Not a single name was blasted off of it giving the idea of family unity, a strength compared to the fallen status of her own.

A circle of chairs sat nestled beside the fireplace and as soon as she entered the Elf snapped their fingers to make a large red fire appear in it. More Gryffindor colors appeared on the furniture in the form of red pillows with red accents. A twisted snake of Slytherin rested on the right of the mantle and a roaring lions head on the opposite side.

"Mistress will be here soon, please take a seat," the Elf stated in the same headstrong tone as before.

Swishing in her skirts she settled down near the fire to warm her body and Delphini's leaving her utterly alone in the massive room. Strange among all the things excluding the usual tapestries of ancestry and grand victories was a massive upright silver mirror standing near the fireplace. The mirror was large enough to fill an entire doorway which made Bella wonder what it was doing there. For a moment she ignored it and leaned back in the chair. Her mind was already racing far too much for her liking that day. Just after the battle she fled the Hogwarts ground and broke into her daughter's hiding place. Now there they were alone, hoping for help from an old flame from her schooling days.

A loud thump awoke her from her reverie, and then the creaking sound of a floor board. Her eyes snapped up to the hallway facing to her right, and she noted a lean robed figure standing there. As the clouds shifted outside a bit of moonlight bled in from a window opposite the doorway revealing pale wan skin, and dark silvery hair. Robes fitted over some sort of tactical armor similar to what she glimpsed muggle peace officers wearing, and then a long tall staff rested in the woman's hands. Bella felt her blood run cold as she glimpsed the staff and noted the scrolling knotwork carved into it. What made her blood cold though wasn't the fact it was a staff, no it was a fucking spear.

The woman's eyes were one singular color, blacker than night, and her lips were painted silver like her hair. Her hair was plaited into two long braids falling over both shoulders. A thick mjolnir hammer necklace hung from around her neck.

"Ah yes, the craven one is here," the woman spoke in a light singsong voice.

"What did you just-" Bella started to say when a thud of the woman's spear quieted her. Stepping in closer, Bella noted the sharp features of the blonde, and the muscle rippling underneath the armor.

"She comes," the woman said while canting her head right.

"Okay, where the bloody hell IS SHE?" Bella demanded.

"I said - she -comes-, you twat," the blonde giggled.

The glass of the mirror was starting to frost over by the time she noticed the blonde jab her spear at it. A loud clink was heard as a series of Futhark runes started to appear glowing an eerie ghostly green. As the runes sorted themselves into an oval outlining the edge of the mirror the frosting effect came to an end. A single hand hit the mirror hard face down. Then the finger began to draw a swirl as the mirror's surface rippled like a pond struck by a stone. Slowly, the hand pushed through the mirror until the full body of Genie Greengrass was present. She stepped aside and out came two men including her husband, Trystan Arctos Greengrass. The other man she barely remembered.

Three pairs of eyes spied their visitor and Genie immediately scoffed before turning around to face the blonde. The two spoke in a hush of whispers while the two men simply waited. Bella noted that much like school Genie was wearing her long brown hair up in a simple bun held in place by a black emerald band. She was dressed in long sodden robes with similar combat armor underneath as the blonde. Both men however were a bit less dramatic in appearance. Trystan had a mop of short cropped brown curly hair, and a pair of curious hazel eyes. Even after losing Genie to him, Bella respected the man as he removed a cigarette from behind his ear and handed it to her.

"Really, muggle cancer sticks?" she asked not to remotely protest the action.

"He's dead Bella, its time for a fag," he chuckled.

This left the remaining man, a broad shouldered man dressed not in robes, but a pair of dark pine green fatigues. A beret sat atop his head, and a balaclava hung from around his face revealing sun tanned skin and a pair of cold green eyes. Unlike Trystan the man didn't have a wand holster or even a wand, instead making do with a long black thorn carved walking stick. Even if it was a ridiculous Irish tradition, the walking stick echoed with power as she felt the magic in the room begin to sizzle from the three of them.

Bella set Delphini down gently so her head lay against a pillow before she stepped forward and used her wand to light her gift. A smooth inhale of smoke gave her the nicotine rush she needed and helped to break the ice.

"Bellatrix," Genieve addressed her after speaking with the blonde, "-what- in Merlin's chode are you doing here?"

"Really...chode?" she coughed out some smoke.

"Yes Bella, the war’s fucking over, HOW BY WINTER are you alive?" she growled.

"I apparated just before that Weasley bint could kill me.." She adjusted the cigarette. "I didn't want my daughter to be an orphan like the Dark Lord."

"Well wonderful," Genie exclaimed, "why are you in MY MANOR and not at Cissy's or hell, your fucking mudblood loving sister?"

The words caught her on edge and a loud feral snarl erupted from her mouth. Even if Andromeda married a mudblood only a member of her family could disaparage her for it.

"Oi, hold yerself dere LeStrange," the Irishman spoke.

"Shut up Rori, no one gives three fucks about your opinion," Bella sighed.

"Well aincha finally showing some balls after you chose that noseless fucker over us," he chuckled.

"Do not call him that!" Bella snapped and reached for her wand. Immediately she found the bladed edge of the blonde's spear against her throat, and a bronze plated walking stick hovering near the opposite side of her skull.

"Careful Bella, we might hav' loved each other once, but I will not hesitate to end you if you hurt my kin,' ' Genie stated.

"Fine."

Bella holstered her wand and held her hands aloft in peace. Even as her mind raced and she tried to think of a way to fight out she reached into her head and clawed all of the thoughts together. It wasn't the time for this bollocks

"I can't involve Cissy....I've already ruined her life," she stated truthfully, and felt her heartbreak as she did. Even as the Dark Lord lived in Malfoy Manor she did her best to keep her sister and nephew safe. Lucius could burn in Tartarus all she cared about.

"Smart....but why me?" Genie asked while the men remained silent.

"Because even if I could flee to Europe they'll find me before I can cross the Urals," she replied.

"You want to hide in Ireland, don't you." Genie said flatly.

"Yes....," Bellatrix croaked.

"You are damn insane Black, you really think I can somehow convince a Taoiseach to let you live on their land?" she replied.

"No...I want you to teach me how to summon a faerie so I can make a deal."

Everyone in the room went silent, except for the blond. Her eyes widened slightly as she grasped carefully manicured fingers around the mjolnir of her necklace. A few words of Norse spilled from her lips as she appeared be in prayer.

"Now, I know you’re daft," Genie exclaimed, "you're gonna summon the Crone aren't you? Dammit Bella!"

"I -have- no choice," she bit out.

"There is always a choice. Surrender, go back to Azkaban, Cissy can care for your daughter," Trystan spoke up.

"She's the Lord's daughter, they'll never let her survive, and I will never return to that hell on earth," she shrieked.

"Dammit Bella, even after all these years you always have to be so fucking dramatic," Genevieve sighed and waved at the other woman to follow her out of the room.

Chapter 2 - Desperate Measures

Early Morning May 4th, 1998 - Western Wales

Bellatrix Black

The night gave way to early morning, and Bella could feel the remnants of her strength slowly leaving her. Even with her increased endurance after breaking out of Azkaban, she was still a shadow of her former self. But in the singular hour she had to listen to Genie she made do with what was handed to her. First, a series of items to do the ritual, and second a portkey to get her to the location to conduct it. Of all the items to choose, the portkey was made from a pageboy cap. Some sort of random item she was sure a snatcher had stolen off a muggleborn father or grandfather. The stupid thing did it's job and as she popped back into reality she found herself in the middle of no-where in Wales, a lonely outcropping of land jutting out into the Irish Sea in front of her.

"Mum?" Delphini asked as she sat down on a large boulder and watched her mother prepare the regents. Only Old Magick required this amount of preparation and all the while Bellatrix was angry she hadn't put more effort into ancient runes. Covering a piece of rock in a moss knoll with ancient Tartessian Runes wasn't easy, nor was it easy in the middle of a bloody storm. The eldest Black Sister may have been Brightest-Of-Her-Age, yet she still faced the challenge of understanding her allies queer ethnic magic.

"Yes sweetling?" she asked, looking over at the dirty blond toddler.

"Its cold," she piped up and pulled the blanket over her small body. Bella froze in the middle of her work and conjured a small fire to keep her daughter warm.

The work itself was proving far more daunting than she would have guessed. Not only was there the physical ritual component, a mental and philosophical part lay ahead of her. According to Genie any and all wishes she made before if remotely attached to the entity she desired to summon, could come up in negotiation. And, one of the few things she had learned from her mother was to always be careful what she wished for.

Making a circle of salt was easy, and then painting the runes onto the rock weren't really the hardest. What was going to be the hardest though would be snapping her own wand as part of the ritual itself. Her hand hurt from the cut to her finger to make the blood for the runes, and her small series of notes on the design were already stained ochre from keeping them out of the wind. Now all that lay were the words, the name, and the intent. The intent to snap her wand and cut herself off from British Wizardry for the rest of her life.

Her daughter was worth it.

It took nearly two hours, but after reconjuring the flames for her daughter again, she finished. A small rounded stone covered in the proper incantation in Old Irish. The words themselves she'd whisper under her breath as she broke off her connection to magic. If she was lucky, the patron connected to the ritual would answer and appear. If she was even luckier, the patron would kill her or her daughter on the spot.

She glanced one last time over at Delphini who was shivering and staring at the fire while mumbling to herself. Her daughter’s existence was perhaps the only true gift the Dark Lord gave her, and she would cherish it to the end of her days. Now, Bellatrix Black had to ensure her daughter’s survival and give her a life away from the infighting of the already corrupt new British Ministry of Magic.

"Just wait for a few minutes sweetling and I'll be done," she walked over to whisper in her daughter’s ear. Bella gave her daughter one last heartfelt hug before turning back to face the stone. Fingering her wand in her right hand she sighed. Of all the things she was going to do, she never thought it would require her to give up magick itself. For a few seconds she just stared off into space, her eyes flickering between her wand and the blood covered rock. The ring of salt itself was starting to get dislodged by the wind. "SHIT!"

The Dark Witch rushed over and knelt before the stone and set the wand atop it. Letting out a sharp breath she began the incantation and as the words came gurgling out of her throat she could feel how alien they were to her. Three times she had to repeat the words, and thrice she said them. Just as she crested the final syllable she held aloft her wand and began to gently pull down either side. As the pressure increased she could see her wand bend in protest and just as the curve became too much SNAP, it broke in half. A shimmer of bright green light filled her vision as she fell on her back in shock.

"Can't believe I broke my own wand," she croaked and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, look at tat, a feckin English witch did sometin right ta get me attention," the soft gravely voice that replied to her came from near her daughter. A quick roll and she was on her feet to see the form of a seven foot tall woman sitting beside Delphini. The small dark witchling was asleep against the woman's side and the fire had grown in size with a massive black kettle over it.

"The Morrigan?" Bellatrix asked carefully, licking her lips nervously.

"Tis me." The woman replied, her burning green eyes reading the dark witch carefully before she patted the spot on the boulder beside her.

"I seek asylum for my daughter and myself," the mother said suddenly.

"Yeah, an' if I loik yiz story I'll consider lettin ye come ta wit me." Whatever finality that existed in the creatures words, Bella wasn't daft enough to question it.

The Morrigan was a seven foot tall woman with black curled hair that fell plaited over her shoulders in thick silver-fitted waves. Her skin was pale in the moonlight, but it shone with a strange unearthly glimmer. Both of her eyes seemed to leak green fire as she leaned forward and bit her blackened lips while stirring something in the pot before her. At her side rested a long black oak spear fitted with a quicksilver color blade. Her limbs seemed almost overlong for her body as the woman opened a leather pack between her feet to toss in more herbs to the pot.

"Sa - speak yer wish mortal," the woman's voice rumbled.

"I wish for safety for my daughter and myself, a new identity and protection from the British Ministry." Her words came out rushed, and she could tell as she said them that already her wish asked for too much.

"Ye ere a fool Bellatrix Black, but I will gran yer wish. Understand dis - it will cost ye, mar than ye ever desire," the woman finished adding to her work in the pot. Gently she picked up the pot without worrying about the heat. A large wooden spoon served it into bowls for both Bella and Delphini. With an indication to eat the eldest Black sister sat down by her daughter to eat.

"What is the price?" she asked.

"You - yer entire self is the price Bellatrix." The woman's words were now darker than before as she rose to her full height, "jus like ye drove people to madness I will take fram ye an' make ye mine."

A single sharpened talon rubbed against her chin and Bella realized it was the woman's right thumb. The massive hand could have smothered her alone, and the woman began to feel horror roiling in her stomach. But she couldn't stop herself from eating the food. Steadily as she ate she could feel her body going still. Her eyes began to burn as did her skin. She wanted to scream to unleash years of pain from her mind and body, but all she could do was gasp. Delphini didn't seem to mind as her mother fell on the ground, nor that her new friend was chuckling at the woman's torture.

Late Morning, November 3rd, 1998 - The Burrow

Hermione Granger

"....Wait." Ron Weasely stated in between eating breakfast, a pile of griddle cakes disappearing at an alarming rate. "You're telling me you aren't a man or a woman?"

"Yes....Morgana - Ron it's not that hard."

"Bollocks, are you a bloke or not?" Weasely asked.

"I AM NEITHER!" Harry snapped hard, their hands resting along their hips, green eyes glaring at their friend.

"I mean it's just confusing and seems kind of nonsensical-"

"Ron - for Merlin's sake, shut up!" Ginny Weasely barked as she slipped an arm around her partner's waist.

This was Hermione Granger's morning, and by the highest powers of magic, she was watching once again as her ex-boyfriend shoved his foot in his mouth. Already six months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and Shacklebolts rise to power in the Ministry. Her parents were still missing because of her plan to obliviate them and she was living in a room given to her at the recently rebuilt Burrow. Like always the emphatic Ronald Weasely decided to speak first before using his brain, a trait she once considered genuine, before she realized it was just callous.

Harry, was a name in progress for her best friend who'd undergone severe changes in the last six months. No longer was that mop of black hair remotely short, but instead it fell in a long cut reminiscent of her Godfather, Sirius. The young person's body had definitely become more androgynous over the months as they expressed their truerself. Hermione could understand the desire to change, and to cut out what yourself was. Trauma was like that, invisible scars that continued to sit over gangrenous flesh and memories. She stared at her and the foundation over it to cover it up. Even now she felt the shadow pain of that fucking knife slicing into her skin.

Blood leaking out of it, and the searing pain of severed muscle and tendon.

Fuck. I need to keep the images under control...

"Mione?" she heard and pulled herself back to the real world.

"Yes Gin?" she asked. Her friend's half-shaved head tilted and looked at her with slight worry. Since the Battle, Ginny had begun training to join the Holyhead Harpies with Harry while they completed their NEWTs out of school. The two had surprisingly pulled themselves together into a semblance of a relationship, which seemed healthy at least from the outside.

"Where were you at?" she asked.

Brushing aside her own bushy hair, the young woman sighed. Even outside of her preferred braids, her hair was always in her face and refused to work with her. It didn't help that while much of Wizarding Britain was multi-ethnic they seemed just as useless in black haircare as the others.

"Just trying to pull myself back together," she rolled her eyes, "plus I'm thinking of maybe getting a twist or something. Or even dying my hair red."

"Oh damn that would be hot!" Ginny replied.

"Thanks Gin," she replied and considered calling an old friend of her mom's to arrange an appointment.

"Do you miss Ron?" Ginny asked out of the blue.

"Yes and no, he's a good guy but - honestly he's too insensitive for his own good." She shook her head before rubbing her arm gently.

"I agree," she said as they watched Harry exit the room with a growl. "They're thinking of changing their name, something about all the pain they've felt over the years."

Hermione glanced at her friend and offered her a hug whom Ginny accepted wordlessly. "I wish they had told us more about those hellacious fools of an aunt and uncle!"

"Yeah me too Gin," she rubbed her arm again, nearly smearing the foundation. "But Harry's been through so much and Dumbledore manipulated them. Plus Snape didn't help one bit."

"Are they wearing makeup?" she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah some eyeliner and some mascara...you wanna go shopping later?" Ginny replied and asked.

Hermione considered her words and gave a simple nod. Shopping could easily be therapeutic and honestly getting out of the Burrow away from Ron was probably a good idea. Plus, seeing Harry explore themself was something that gave her a bit of a smile in her recently dark world.

Midday, November 3rd, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black

Six damn months of tutelage and change. Her body was remade subtly, yet still recast to the will of her new patron. Time seemed to pass slower than possible on the Island of Inish Eile, and all she could do was fucking experience it! Toddling about the island was boring as hell after the first four weeks and the realization that magical wards kept it out of muggle sight. What was even worse were the mouthy House Elves that made their home at the large ancient pre-Norman castle. Several didn't even speak English to her and instead refused to even listen to a word she said.

Delpini had flourished and fallen in love with the eerie faerie island they found themselves on. The Elves taught her fucking Irish, and she picked it up at rapid speed, far faster than Bella herself. Then there were all the potions, tinctures and worse she drank, embalmed in and bathed in. What resulted was extensive pain and honestly torture. All the while the tall form of the Morrigan would appear to remind her of all her foolish actions and follies. Every sin was recounted as the changes began and ended. First, her teeth fell out painfully and regrew as well as her hair. Then as the days passed her eyes began to gain an inner ring of energy light that seemed to always remain with them.

What was worse though was how much her body hurt. Fourteen years in Azkaban destroyed her health with a mix of physical abuse, malnutrition and steady mental decline. The mental damage still remained, rotting thoughts and gangrenous feelings necrotic from years of neglect and carefully applied suppression. Whatever trauma applied to her by her foes, and the emotions devoured by the Dementors were covered up by obvious mental irrationality. Yet, somehow Morrigan had started to heal what she could of Bellatrix's mind. For the first time as she sat on a bench facing the great Northern Atlantic. Dark water lapped at the beach just meters away from her feet, and as she leaned against the stone bench she marveled at her place of exile.

An exile she burningly wished for.

Morgana's tits I really have gone completely nutty.

Chewing on her lip Bella casually splayed her body across the bench as she felt a lonely emptiness in her hand. Six months ago she'd snapped her wand to summon her savior, and given up her magic. Today though, today her patron had informed her she was getting a new wand, or "foci' as the faerie called it. Whatever the faerie wanted, Bella was unsure what to make of it. Morrigan or "Erin" as she preferred to be called was about as approachable and friendly as her mother Druella. A stark difference between Erin and her mother was that Erin appeared to actually care about her charge.

In fact, even when she was being cold, there was a sense of carefully planned guidance behind her actions. To the tall fae, Bellatrix Black wasn't an insult or a scandal waiting to happen, she was a protégé who needed the right tutelage to prosper. For this she gave all of her patience as well as being thankful for the rejuvenation both her and her daughter felt. If there was one thing she was most surprised by, it was the fact that her daughter not only did well on the island, but that she was flourishing. Already far taller than most two-and-a-half year olds Delphini was quickly beginning the basics of Irish magicks.

"There you are," she heard the words behind her as the tall form of Erin stepped over the bench and neatly scooted her body over with faerie strength.

"I really do hate it when you do that," she protested momentarily.

"What, pick ye up, den don't be so feckin' small Black, ye bitch too much!" the Irish deity chuckled before laying six long walking sticks into the woman's lap.

"Is this where you screech about shileleighs or something stupid?" the Brit decided to dead pan.

"No ye prat," the goddess rolled her eyes, "each o' of these is made fram a different sacred wood," she stated.

"I'm supposed to use one of these idiotic Irish wanna-be wands?" she sneered.

"First, they aren't shillelaghs," she held up her massive black bronze banded cudgel in one hand, "THIS is a Shillelagh, an' I kilt more than my fair share of Sasnachai wit it!"

"So what are they?" Bella asked.

"We call 'em flescá, from an old word meaning wand," she replied and Bella picked up a blackthorn flescá in her hands and felt the warm thrumming of magic therein. For a second she wasn't sure what to do and spied Morgan's smile.

"So how do I cast with these magic sticks?" she pried.

"The center o' the focus is in the head of the flescá wit a magical core goin' down da lengt' o' it," Erin replied carefully while holding a white oak flescá. At the top of each walking-stick was a thick piece of shine and rounded stone or metal. Each metal-headed flescá bore a small series of gems fitted into them.

"So what, I hold it below the head and just use the usual motions?" Bella put the blackthorn down and grabbed a rowan flescá with a sharpened broze base ending in a point for its base.

"Yup," the massive faerie replied before snagging one of the flescá and swinging it over her hand and spat out 'bombarda' a strange snap of magic broke the air as she proceeded through the motions. However, just as the weapon spun between her hands Bella noticed the magic leaving not only the head of the flescá, but the base of it as well.

"Flescá are built for rapid battle casting," Erin stated.

"What, can't you trust the local aurors?" she asked.

"Pffft, aurors ere usually owned by the Unionists, an' the Guards ere controlled by da Republicans," the faerie sighed.

"So Ireland is one big pot about to boil over," she surmised.

"Correct, an' wit da chaos caused by the maskers, yer facing possible assassinations," Erin nodded.

"Maskers?" Bella queried.

"Oh...most fae call yer lot dat, cuz we tought Deat'eater was too damn stupid o' a name."

"Ah, good to know," Bella gave a small feigned nod of her head.

The older witch graced her hand over the edge and top of each flescá. A yew flescá wound wrapped with a handle made of lambskin and fitted with a green stone and opal at the top. The thing fuzzed in her hand and she rejected it in seconds. Each flescá felt wrong or slipped from her hands until she felt it rest upon a length of rowan a little over a meter long, and its head carved into the shape of a raven. A black hagstone was fitted into the wood under the beak to create a natural finger hold for it and just as she touched it, a arc of energy struck her hand.

"Pick one," the faerie ordered.

The Rowan wood pulsed her hand as she tossed it up and caught it with her dominant hand. She noted the wood of the ravenshead was different than that shaft, and recognized her beloved Black Walnut.

"This one," she said feeling the weight of the flescá in her hands, how it warmed instantly.

"Rowan shaft, fitted wit a obsidian hagstone, and black walnut head." The Morrigan spoke the words elegantly, "A dual core crafted fram me own hair, an' the heart string of Wallachian Blackwing."

"You put your hair in this?" Bella asked curiously.

"Yes, I made it fer ye," Erin replied before picking up the rest of the flescaí, and gestured for Bellatrix to follow her. As she did, she pulled the black cardigan she was wearing tighter across her body. The cool of winter was already coming as fall began to die. Even the Morrigan was dressed in a black a-line dress covered in an even longer pair of robes. Black boots and leggings completed it as the woman stormed up the pathway back to her fine ancient seeming manor. Coming within sight of the Castle, Bella noted the dark brown and black armored figures watching her from above. They were Fianna, wizards tied to the Morrigan's bloodline and served as her guards when she was in residence. One carried a large machine gun as the other a spear.

The doors of the great manor opened for the faerie lady on their own accord as a loud crack signalled the arrival of her majordomo, an aging House Elf by the name of Aisling.

"Does the Lady wish for tea?" the Elf asked in an aristocratic accent.

"No Aisling, I wan ye to to alter the wards on the beach to allow apparition," the woman stated just as came within the entrance hall of the great manor. The small elf's sagging ears pricked in worry as her high voice spoke, "Miss if we break the wards the Sluagh."

"Will attack, aye, I know," she stated as she took off her robes before whispering a word in gaelic and her clothes began to shift from a simple dress to the more common combat fatigues worn by the Fianna. Black tight body armor reinforced with shielding spells, and a belted holster for her flescá.

"Wait, what is going to attack the Island?" Bella asked in concern for her daughter.

"Why Irish Dementors little jackdaw," Erin cackled.

"Dementors?!" she said with a gasp. "You surely aren't going to-"

"Pit ye against them, why yes!" the deity chuckled, "the wards will take a week to falter."

"I'm useless against those soul suckers, no Death Eater can cast a Patronous," Bellatrix protested.

"Wrong," she smiled, "A lie told to ye by that fool Albus, an yer bigger fool of a master." Morgan's eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"I have no happy memories to create such a spell," Bellatric pointed out.

"Ye can, and will!" the Goddess replied leaving Bella to only think of one thing.

Was my wish really worth fighting the demons of my past?

Chapter 3 - The Important of Names

Lunch, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger

"A Faeries very essence is their name, and thus a faerie will never reveal their true name without utter trust."

"Would you please put that book down 'Mione!" Ron whined as the two waited at a small cafe on Cowley Street. It was a muggle establishment, a fairly typical place with sandwiches and coffee ready for lunch. The two of them had arrived separately and met up to have lunch. For some reason, Ron was wearing a normal pullover, and a pair of jeans. What drew Hermione's attention was the fact his hair was getting long again, longer than before. The last time it got this long was last year when they were on the run, and for some reason it appeared that the redhead was actually taking care of it.

"Ron, is there something you want to tell me?" she said after putting down the book of folklore she was reading.

"Nope," he replied far too quickly.

"Alright, well you know that you can tell me -anything-, right?" she asked.

"Yup, sure, anything - got it!" he chirped before turning around watching down the street.

Hermione let out a huff of annoyance and checked her watch, noting it was just past one o'clock and that both Ginny and Harry were late. Only five days ago Ron and Harry were arguing over gender identity. I mean I get it, but I've learned. Ron's pretty much a country-bumpkin of a pureblood. The thought caused her to smile widely as Ron was still scanning the passing crowd. Not unlike her friend she was in a dark blue cardigan, dark jeans, and a nice soft t-shirt of her favorite band. Tilting her head to the side she sighed happily at finally getting her hair properly braided and enjoyed having the mass out of her face.

"What made you so happy?" she asked her friend.

"Harry and I had a heart to heart, and they've got something to tell you."

"They....when did you evolve so quickly?" she asked him.

"Since, Ginny tore me a new one after our last debate," he said with a sigh.

"Oh widdle Ronnikins is growing up!" she chuckled.

"Shut it!" he protested.

"What are you two arguing about?" they heard Ginny a few feet away. Like before she had her new signature side shave revealing the right bare side of her head, and a dark red Holyhead Harpies hoodie on. What caught Hermione's attention though was Harry standing a bit behind their girlfriend, hiding as if they needed to. What in the world?

"Is Harry wearing a skirt?" Ron asked without even attempting to clear out his filter.

"Yeah - why?" GInny replied and stepped forward to pull out a chair for her and Harry each.

"Is this about our talk?" Ron pushed further.

"Yes and no," Harry's voice cracked a little as they spoke quieter than before.

"Ron - play nice," Ginny replied and poked her older brother hard in the shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes at the two's antics as she turned to face her dear friend fully. Ron was right, Harry was wearing a skirt, a long pleated one like they would have at school, and even a standard blazer. What fascinated her even more was that Harry didn't look quite bad in one. In fact, they were kind of cute. The brunette shook her head before rubbing her jaw.

"Okay," Hermione said, "I know I've been busy working through all of preparing to catch up with what we missed out."

"But?" Harry asked.

"But, can you two please update me on what is going on?" she asked carefully. "If Ron knows more about what is going on then something is wrong. By the way Harry, you look cute in that outfit."

Her friend promptly blushed a dark red and ran a hand nervously through their hair. Hair which was far more controlled now and even appeared brushed rather than the uncontrollable mess of years gone by.

"Okay," the former Chosen One said, "Ginny and I have been doing some talking, and this included Ron."

"And you left me out of it," Hermione commented.

"We are all very sorry Hermione, it kind of just happened." Ginny said before ordering a drink for herself and Harry.

"Perfectly fine," she asked and then noticed something, "Harry, did you change the rims of your glasses?"

Wow, I really must be out of the loop.

"Yeah, I finally sat down and got a new pair recently," they said before leaning in and whispering something to Ginny.

"Okay, so you three are dragging me to get makeup right?" Ronald asked, changing the topic.

There was a general nod of agreement from the other three leaving the tallest of them frowning with a sigh. Hermione chuckled at Ron's continued antics. Does he act this way on purpose to make us all laugh or is he really that immature. I mean...I really do wonder. The thought had been creeping in her mind for a while. Perhaps all of the trauma they'd undergone had affected them in different ways. Ginny embraced the more butchy side of style of being a future Quidditch player while Harry was exploring their self expression. She considered it further as a waiter arrived with drinks for them all finally.

"So a London Fog, a Chai Latte, a White Chocolate Mocha, and a regular Cappuccino," the server said before leaving a check for them all.

Harry picked up their London Fog and blew on it lightly causing Hermione to be peppered with the smell of vanilla and bergamot. It wasn't unpleasant, but she did giggle at how childlike it appeared.

"We'll hit Boots first and then Tesco so we can do some cooking later at the Burrow," Ginny stated.

"I'll be meeting you all up later, a friend of my parents wanted to talk to me about something today," Hermione relayed.

"What about?" Harry asked quietly between sips of their drink.

"Something about their business and more, someone sent me a note about the House," she said.

"Well, okay, but if you remotely feel unsafe you're apparating out there in the blink of an eye." Ginny made the statement with a level of finality one earned from battle, and Hermione could feel it in her tone of voice.

"I'll be okay, Gin," she nodded and nursed her coffee while watching Ron sneak a cooling charm so he could gulp down his Mocha.

The foursome sat there for about thirty minutes before finishing their drinks. A quiet sense of comfort in the simple fact of being close to each other. All of them were still recovering from the Battle and from the Year of Terror (or so the Daily Prophet had coined it). Hermione felt the itch of the concealing charm on her arm, but ignored it for the moment. Even if that damn scar was still there she wasn' t going to let it dictate her actions at all. That dogged determination was one reason why she was the Brightest-Witch-Of-Her-Age, and one reason all of Noseless' 

Horcruxes were exterminated. Perhaps the itching of her scar wasn't an actual curse or even phantom pain, maybe it was the simple fact she still resented Albus Dumbledore for thinking to include her in his torments of her best friend.

Early Afternoon, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger

More than an hour passed since they arrived at Boots and made their way to the makeup section. An hour of watching Ron sit astounded as both she and Ginny showed him the power of muggle shapeshifting. Harry for the longest time sat on the edge as Hermione wove through two aisles over and over again. Finding a foundation that fit her skin tone wasn't the easiest truth be told. Sure, being on the run and the fighting related stress had caused her to pale a bit, but she was still far darker than her friends. Well, except maybe Harry, but there was always the annoyance of finding the right tone for her sepia skin. She sighed before moving to a section professing to cater to non-European women and found something close enough.

I guess I can always just transfigure it. She mused as she tossed the small round glass container in the air and caught it before fingering the black lid. Still, even the wizarding world has problems with this stuff. Hermione sighed before watching Harry staring at a mascara tube for the eleventh time while Ginny and Ron were arguing over their preferred Quidditch teams. Slowly, she drifted over to her best friend and noticed how much weight they'd lost. Harry used to be one of the fittest people she knew, maybe not muscular, but lithe and speedy. The perfect build for a seeker, and yet she could see a hollow pallor to her friends face, and how frail their frame was. Are they handling their stress at all? Why aren't they talking to me?

This was what led her to slowly stand beside her friend and just watch them fidget. It really is the same mascara. What is that? Looks like Maybelline. Harry's green eyes were locked on the strange bluish oval shaped tube with confusion.

"It makes your eyelashes longer," she told them.

"I know what it does, it's just weird that girls put this goo on their lashes to begin with," they stammered.

"You like how it looks though don't you," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah. Ginny says I have naturally long lashes and..." they trailed off before putting it back on the hook. A flash of their hands revealed the green painted nails with a silver slash across the index.

"Slytherin colors?" she asked curiously.

Harry whipped around and stared at her and a series of emotions flashed across their face.

"I haven't told you....a lot...so much has happened since....I killed....Riddle." Hermione could tell Harry was having an issue putting thoughts to words, and was biting their upper lip hard. She could tell Harry wanted to say -something-, but there was a disconnect between the actual word and the meaning they wished to express. Is this related to their death and coming back? She read more than a few medical texts on the damage caused by those who died or a lack of oxygen to the brain. What was going on though? Was it brain damage? Trauma? So many things could be affecting her best friend and she felt helpless with a lack of input on the matter.

"Harry it's-" she started.

"Raine.....my name is Raine." The words came out harder than she suspected her friend wanted to say, yet Hermione could tell the tone was because her friend finally found the words.

"It's pretty," she replied.

"Its...unisex, and it can mean Queen or Ruler," they said and mumbled, "it was a name in some old baby name lists I found from my mom at Grimmauld."

"I like it," Hermione replied and opened her arms for Raine to give her a simple nod. Suddenly, she embraced her best friend who let out a shaky half-sob of breath and crumpled into her. Another shaky breath and the hug lasted for a while as her hand extended to the small of her friends back and she let out a sigh. Fuck. Her mind slowed down as she just let herself experience the comfort of making her friend feel better.

"Uh you two okay?" she heard as she spied Ron watching them both over Ginny, who was smiling with her arms crossed.

"So they told you their new name eh?" Gin asked, "I personally love it!"

"I mean it does make sense, Raine was always a Drama Queen," Ron joked with an emphasis on -queen-.

"A mad snake-man wanting to kill me because of some stupid prophecy does not make me a Drama Queen," Raine growled.

"Hey, keep saying it mate, but admit it. You do love attention," Ron pushed further.

"When you are starved for attention because you get locked in a fucking cupboard for hours on end," Raine whipped around, "you can joke about it, RONALD BILLIUS WEASELY!"

"Sorry," the redhead squeaked.

"You were so close brother'o'mine, so close to not pissing them off," Ginny sighed before retrieving her partner from Hermione.

Raine required a few minutes to calm down before they would remotely glare at Ron without their hand forming into a fist. Hermione herself was wondering about her friend's mindset, but was busy as she decided to give everyone a bit of space. I'm happy we beat Noseless. The happiness of defeating Tom Marvolo Riddle though came with a heavy cost. She considered as she sat there in the aisle and wandered away from her friends, for just a moment. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she thought about it.

Tonks and Remus are in comas....Ted Tonks is dead. They'd beat the Dark Lord, much like the end of Lord of the Rings, but the cost to herself and she glanced at the scar hidden on her arm. Plus the cost to her friends was terribly high. Memories came back to her in small bits. A silvery knife cutting into her skin; the cackling of a dark haired elfin woman straddling her hips; and she inhaled sharply. What's wrong with me? Hermione Granger glanced around her and caught an associate watching her while facing a shelf across another aisle. But, she was quickly lost in her mind once again.

She really should speak to someone about how she felt about the aftermath of the Battle and the War. A loud bang occured behind her and almost instantly she reached for the wand hiding in her back pocket. Hermione's eyes darted around as she homed in on the possible 'threat' and realized it was just Ron bumping into and knocking over some soft drinks. Moments passed as her heart pounded hard in her chest, and cold sweat pooled on her forehead. Only six months after she watched Fred Weasley perish and she was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Months now since the War ended, but still it stayed with her. Hermione thought she could ride it out, speak to a mind-healer, and get a handle on things.

But that wasn't how mental health worked, she learned, she learned instead that she would likely live with the shadows of Bellatrix Lestrange forever.

Breakfast, November 9th, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black

"Delphini Black you will listen to me, now!" she snapped as she was on her last nerve. For more than an hour Bellatrix sat outside her daughter's room trying to coax her out for breakfast. What was annoying her so much was the young toddler seemed entire entranced by the stupid little video tape Erin gave her. After a few moments she uttered the incantation "Alohomora" and the lock clicked. What she found was her dirty blonde daughter sitting upright in her bed. Her eyes were glued to the small television screen across from her bed, and she was busily clutching some stupid little doll in her hands.

"Mum, just one more episode pleeeease!" she whined. In the months since they'd come to Inish Eile, her daughter had turned three, and was easily far more independent than a child her age. What annoyed her however was that her daughter was now completely fixated with a strange pigtailed blonde wearing some sort of skirt outfit on the screen.

"Delpi, it's time for breakfast, no more Sailor Luna for now!" she stated and watched as her daughter ignored her while singing along to the stupid theme song.

"Sailor Moon mum!" Delphi protested.

"Whatever," Bella sighed.

"No - no! She's like you mum, she fights bad people like Queen Beryl!' Delphi rambled.

On the screen the blonde was crying about something as a strange little black cat lectured her. Bella sucked in a sharp breath as she considered what her daughter said to her. Six months to think about her actions, and she stared at her hands for a moment. She betrayed the Dark Lord and fled the battle after his death. No final stands or attempts to bring him back or resurrect his cause. No, her daughter survived and that was what mattered. Cissy and Meda were alive, and even -if- Meda married a sodding mudblood, she never wanted to actually kill her. Well, deep down at least.

"I don't cry like that," she murmured.

"No well, you are definitely Sailor Mars though!" the girl pointed out as a red wearing raven-haired woman appeared to mock the blonde, who cried once again. The black haired woman was mocking the girl by calling her 'meatball head', and as the episode continued showed a strong moral ground. Bella stared at the television as she once again thought about her time recovering. What is that bloody faerie planning for me?

"Okay, her I like," she chuckled as she walked over and switched the TV off.

"MUM NOT FAIR!' Delphi whined loudly.

"Being a mum is not about being fair, it's about being right," Bella chided her as she held out her hand and Delphi took it with her own. The two walked down the hall together to hear the rush of movement and they passed a doorway leading to the kitchen. Several House Elves inside were working hard to prepare breakfast for that day and whatever aroma escaped smelled quite entrancing. Delphi immediately began to tug harder on her mother's hand. Bella tried to speak up and soon found herself giving up as the little girl bolted out of her grasp into the dining room.

Like most of the massive manor it was ostentatious and bled old money. A massive open space with ten foot high vaulted ceilings painted with a night sky. Not a wizard animated fake night sky, but an actual painted night sky that moved of its own accord. Bella spied the various paints and strokes themselves shifting on the surface of the ceiling as a series of bronze glass lamps gently floated in a steady orbit of the hall itself. The floor was made of a dark hardwood well worn, and still quite beautiful with how it complimented the massive black walnut table as the main centerpiece. At the head of the table sat Erin, the elegant fae who called herself the Great Queen, or simply, the Morrigan.

Today the seven foot tall woman appeared as a more normal person at only six feet two inches. Her eyes no longer glowed or appeared as green flame. Instead, they were just the same brilliant green that irritating Potter child possessed. Wait...why DID that little prat have green eyes. We all knew about his mother, but she was a powerful ritualist. Bella stood in the doorway of the dining hall and watched Delphini trot over to the faerie and promptly push the faerie queen into a prattling discussion. Erin appeared to be listening intently to the child like any experienced mother.

If she's as old as she says she is, that woman is at least two thousand years my senior.

"MUM! MUM!" her daughter was jumping up and down to regain her attention.

"Wot?" she asked, finally gliding over to take a seat on her Patron's right hand.

"You're going to fight the Sluagh today right!?" Delphi was far -more- excited about this than her mother.

"Yes, she is," Erin said solemnly. Bella gave an uneasy smile as her daughter began to pester her further about fighting the Sluagh. An entire swarm of soulless shapeshifting birds. The daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black was completely unsure what in Morgana's name she was going to do. Training under a war goddess was a strange and eye opening experience. Flescaí were heavier and much larger than a standard wand, meaning a new flow of movement for Bella to master. Where once she moved with the fast paced allegro of a violin, she spun and whirled with the strength of a cello.

If Bella hadn't been given basic armed combat training in her dueling classes she wouldn't have had an idea how to fight with a walking stick. The dual sided casting ability of the Flescá was her favorite feature of the foci. It meant that not only could she snap off a quick curse to one target she could now more easily apply counters and react. The movement of battle was far more continuous and fluid. Honestly, the other nice thing was that her heavy black oak Flescá was hard enough to snap or shatter most normal wands in a single hit.

Hey I'll club those fucking souless buggers to death. The thought was pretty appetizing to her. There was one little hitch though; her attempt to use a charm similar to a patronus required her to face the worst and best of her memories. Images of torture, and much more. Actions she partook in and where she left the Longbottoms nothing more than useless husks of their former selves. Her mind twitched a little, the begging and screams of the Longbottoms weren't going to ever leave her, but she sat there and felt her hands fidget as she considered a few things. Thoughts  oppressed and ignored for so long that ripping the bandage off to free them up was proving harder than she thought.

Sodding little mudblood. Why did she just have....

"Bella," Erin addressed her as the food was served. An elf placed a dish in front of her consisting of a standard country breakfast, a few rashers of bacon, fried egg, and some puddings along with sausage. The strange orange tinged sausages were still a little too much for her which meant Bella ended up eating the bacon and egg first. Actually eating blood pudding to her even if it was a "British staple" was not something the pureblood heiress found appetizing.

"Hmmm?" she hummed in response.

"Ye know tat no matter 'ow hard ye to try ta scare da House Elves, they'll just ignore you." Erin was once again bringing up another random topic. She's done this so many times I've lost count.' But she was right, Bella attempted to frighten or intimidate the House Elves of the manor more than once. What she discovered was that the Faerie paid them in a mix of actual currency and magical energy. The elves got a boost to their health from the faerie family magic and then gold to provide themselves with a life outside of servitude. An utterly alien concept to a pureblood British wizard like herself.

"Why are you telling me this?" she inquired.

"Because ye are spendin' mar time feckin about," she said finishing her breakfast and sipping a bit of white wine, "when ye should be practicin."

"I am practicing, Erin." Her voice rose slightly in volume as her frustration increased.

"Good," the deity scoffed before turning to her food. Compared to the two mortals, the six foot tall ate three times the portioning. There was some sort of potion smelling of vegetables sitting placed beside Bella's right hand. Likely another concoction to further make up for years of malnutrition. Delphini was busily sitting in her high chair babbling on and on about Sailor Moon. Or more appropriately 'Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon. It was one of several cartoons and television shows the deity gifted to the little girl, the worst being some series called 'Xena: Warrior Princess.’

Bellatrix LeStrange had changed physically, though not much mentally. The daughter of the House Black still considered muggles to be only slightly better than beasts. Her short experiences seeing the pollution and the war of the 1960s and 1970s had jaded her. Growing up in the shadow of Grindlewald's anti-muggle campaign easily tainted her views from the start. The witch mused over all of the destruction she caused, and felt a strange feeling starting to curl in her gut. An unsettling kin to nausea, but it burned harder. As she tried to push it away in her head, she felt an assault of flashes of memory - sounds and images. A staccato rush of information. First, the keening and screaming of a woman. '’Please anyone but my son!'' - then Rod's voice cackling out the crucio with her own incantation in tow.

'Please mummy, I just wanted to play in the fountain!’' her own voice as a child while her mother slapped her face. The hard impact caused the witch in that moment to visibly flinch, a hand rising to touch the cheek.

"Mumuh, what's wrong?" Delphi inquired, snapping Bellatrix back into the here and now.

"Nothing sweetling," she felt the tension in her bones and her muscles increase. Pain from years of abuse, and agony as bile rose to her gorge. Erin's eyes bore into her own, and the deity's face quirked into a frown.

Afternoon, November 9th, 1998 - Hampstead

Hermione Granger

Even after more than a year, the House was still in good shape. A small solace to the girl who illegally obliviated her parents to save their lives. Walking over the still clean cut lawn, the girl noticed that a `for sale’ sign still hung outside the decently sized two story home. Her trainers skidded against the curb of the cul-de-sac as she slowly made her way out from an alley where she apparated from. Dressed in her favorite pair of jeans the teen made her way through the gate and past the hedge. Leaves were already gathering at the base of the shrubbery as the tree growing on her property already clawed its leafless branches to the sky. She sighed as she checked the note sent to her.

"Dearest Hermione,

Your mother spoke of you at length before our falling out years ago. I would like to meet with you about the state of the home and about your family's sudden disappearance. I have a few gifts for you and something urgent we can only speak of in person.

Sincerely,

Your Aunt Perdita”

A note riddled with queer assumptions and outright confusing information. Her mother didn't have a sister, especially one named for the same Shakespearean play as herself. Worst even yet, was the fact that the owl who delivered the note itself was definitely a magical creature of some sort. It appeared like any standard barn owl, but appeared to have red burning eyes when it appeared the night before. The human-like screech it let out after leaving was even more frightening.

So, as she walked toward the porch of her old abandoned home Hermione Granger fingered her wand hidden in a coat pocket of her red anorak jacket. The same jacket she received on her 17th birthday the year before from her parents. As she reached the first step she turned around and scanned the cul-de-sac itself. Not a single car was parked outside at first, and then her eyes spied a blue mini cooper with a red dragon painted across its hood. Squinting she could make out the style and blinked.

Why is there a mini with a Welsh dragon on it?

She kept the thoughts in her head for now and turned around. Hermione climbed the rest of the way, and checked the knob. Unlocked, so someone was waiting for her inside. Music reached her ears as she opened and closed the door behind her. She tried to place the music as she walked past the entrance hall into the small well furnished living room. A cd player sat on the coffee table plugged into the wall nearby. Beside it sat a fairly large portable speaker filling the entire room with a mix of reggae beat and the whirling of a saxophone. Glancing at the walls she admired images from her family's vacation to Paris, Marseille and later to Barcelona. Each of the pictures were arrayed along the pastel lavender walls.

Her eyes lingered on a particular picture, this one moving noting it as a wizard picture. One she sent her parents after Fleur and Bill's wedding. Her hair was pulled into two large twist buns, done by her mother that same day. Smiling, she leaned in and kissed Ron's cheek as Harry smiled, dressed in formal wizarding robes. The simple airy dress she was wearing that day moved around her as the wind kept kicking it up at random intervals.

"You were beautiful that day," the words caused her to turn around. Immediately her hand was on her wand and she drew it while her muscles relaxed into a defensive stance. Standing a few feet behind her was a woman straight out of a fairytale.

What caught her attention was the woman's eyes, they were the color of burning embers and seemed to reach into her own. Her visitor was a little over six feet tall and sat at one of the couches near the coffee table. A dark green jacket over a slightly dark orange tank top, fitted green trousers, and a pair of shined italian loafers. Her lean frame spoke of years of training; each movement was precise as a cat. Now having Hermione's attention the woman sat up, as Hermione tried to remember if she'd been sitting there seconds before.

No. She just appeared...is silent apparition possible?

The woman's hair - like her eyes - was red with highlights of orange in it. Pulled back into thick cornrows it sat in a high pony and shook with each moment. Her skin was a warm russet tone. A triskelion tattoo was visible on her upper shoulder as well as a silver necklace and chain around her neck.

"Who are you?" Hermione implored.

"Oh...I'm Perdita." The woman said, shining too white teeth at Hermione making the teen feel even more unsettled. She's not human, her face is too perfect. Hermione side-stepped so her right side was closer to the door.

"I'm assuming you were whoever sent me the letter."

"Yes, indeed I did," the woman replied, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"Why did you call me here?" Hermione queried.

"Oh yes," she said and rose slowly to her full height and let out a loud laugh. "I need to finish tea first before we continue. Do you like Mint?"

Hermione visibly flinched as the tall figure loomed over her causing the woman to frown. Flashes of another woman in darker clothing pinning her to the ground and holding a knife caused her to shake. The scar on her left arm started to burn hard causing her to wince. She took another slow step back toward the doorway before she felt the air around her still.

"Can you sit down please...." she requested as the tall woman acquiesced. Hermione stared at the door before the entrance hall briefly before adding, "Why should I stay?"

"Because I can help you get your parents back," she replied. This caused Hermione's hackles to rise as she stepped closer and hovered behind the couch to the right of the one where the woman sat.

"You're lying" she retorted, "Or there's a high price to it."

"Of course there is, Hermione Granger," she smiled and flicked her wrist and a teapot came sailing in from the kitchen. A series of saucers and cups floated in behind it.

"Do you remember in Wales, when sharing Salazar's Locket?" she asked plainly. The floating teapot served tea as the two cups landed gently on their respective saucers.

"No, not really, all I remember was running over a hill along a road," her eyes blanked as she realized, "that was Offa's Dike."

"Correct, and as you dashed into the woods you made a wish," the fae replied. Her lips cresting the cup as she drank the still steaming tea without nary a wince of pain.

"A wish, this is all about a wish?" Hermione gripped the top of the couch in her hands and leaned forward defiantly.

"Yes, you made a wish on my land, and thus the wish was mine to grant." The red haired woman finished her tea and let the teapot drift over and pour her another cuppa.

"You're here over one errant wish to see my family again?" Hermione asked.

"No Hermione, I'm here because you've been making wishes since you were a little girl at Hogwarts." Hermione felt bits and details starting to fall into place. A wish to pass her first exam as a child and suddenly having a greater focus for studying. Another for Harry's health during the tournament, and without fail his broom arrived far faster than it should. This makes no sense. She blinked as she stared at the woman before climbing over the couch and taking a seat. Hermione stilled her mind for a moment as she inhaled slowly, picked up her cooled tea and took a sip.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Chapter 4 - Training

Sunset, November 11th, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black

Cool moist sand felt good after a long day of training. Even after napping for a few hours and a large meal of roast beef the Dark Witch still enjoyed the feeling of the sand on her bare feet. Standing on the shore of Inish Eile facing the mainland, she felt the wind whip up across the eastern edge of Galway Bay and come dancing past her. The long black dress she wore streaked past her bare legs as the water was busily falling low for an unnatural low-tide. Just farther up on the edge of the beach beside a series of large rocks and driftwood sat her Patron, Erin. Both Dark figures standing on the beach awaiting something terrible as the sun set appearing as if from legend. Something straight out of the Ancient Cycles told by the Early Christian Gaels. Today, however wasn't something straight from a fairytale or from some tragic legend; no it was a fight straight out of a horror movie.

They came at first as a simple cry of birds, first ten then a hundred then thousands. Small specks on the horizon flowing out from the dark rock filled bogland and moors of County Galway and streaming past Connemara. Some darted into the water and disappeared as ethereal sharks hunting prey of dead sailors. More came flying as massive black shapes swarming towards the Inish, towards the Island. Immediately, a loud keening sound erupted from the castle centered on Inish Eile as several cries in Irish were heard. Erin was busily holding aloft her Flescá as the green pulsing gem at the top began to increase its brilliance.

"Focus on wha' I taught ye Bellatrix," she said and the Dark Witch glared over her shoulder. What came riding on the wind was her worst nightmare from one of the foulest of the Nine Hells. Her eyes fixated on a particular creature gliding over the surface of the water. It's long skeletal hands swept back as the long tattered cloak covering its body flowed behind it in a lazy trail. The cloak covering its head clung tightly to the top of the Dementor's skull as it stopped and let loose a ear shattering screech.

Immediately, the sound sought out her ears and she felt the energy being drained from her. It was so similar to how the creatures fed off of her at Azkaban. Memories long since locked away from the trauma resurfaced. Her father stood in the doorway as she tried to hide under her bed after transgressing. His hand twisting into her hair as he reached under after using an unknown hex to rip it in half. Harsh words flowed into her head a she remembered him demanding why she'd kissed a Gryffindor, let alone a fucking woman. She pled for mercy, telling him it was just a phase.

He didn't care, immediately he used legilimency to rip into her mind.

The headache felt like someone had driven a burning red spike through her right eye. Letting out a loud cry she felt her legs buckle from the stress and the Dementor drew closer. 

"Jooooiiiinnn uusssss, feeeeeddd ussss." The harsh inhuman whispering of its voice. She closed her eyes as she felt all that anger from years ago surging up again. Bile rose in her throat as she vomited up a bit of her dinner. A loud zap behind her and the smell of ozone showed that whatever magic the Morrigan was using was starting to destroy the Sluagh swarming them.

Carefully, she pressed her eyes closed harder. She fell to one knee as she heard the sound of the Dementor's cloak dragging across the grass. Bella shoved the butt of her Flescá into the soft blackened sand. She knew where it's head was right in front of her. As it spoke she smelled the putrid breath which exuded a scent of rotting flesh, gangrenous sea life, and sewage.

"Belllaaaatrix. Why did you run!" She raised her head to face the creature as she looked into its face The cowl settled firm around the creatures face leaving only its toothless gaping mouth open to her gaze. What made her look into its lipless maw was the voice of her Lord. THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE. It cocked it's head, the mouth forming into a toothless smile. "JOIN US AGAIN BELLATRIX! JOIN THE DARK!"

She shuddered at hearing that command, and like so many from her former Lord she almost followed it. But, not this, not when her daughter's safety rested on her shoulders and not when Erin had given her so much to expect. Dark eyes watched as the creature leaned closer, its corpse-moist hands moved to grip her jaw as it opened its mouth. NO NOT THE KISS!

"DAMMIT BELLATRIX, USE TAT RAGE O' YIZ AND STAB TAT CUNT!" roared the Goddess. 

The words reminded her of her one repose in the attack and as the creature drew even closer enough for her to feel it's breath on her lips she growled.

"Exspecto TELUM!" she barked the words out as she felt her magic jump to life. Her Flescá twitched in her hands as she rammed the ravenshead end into the creatures jaw. Just as the head connected a bright blade of burning white energy impaled it's skull. The Dementor clawed at her as she shoved the spiritual sword harder into its skull and ripped it up tearing the face in two. As it did the creature proceeded to implode, its magical heart beat its last as black oily blood flowed from the wound and into the water. It's very touch burned Bellatrix's hand and she stepped back before slicing off its head with one hard cut.

"Well done," the Morrigan stated as she released three massive arcs of lightning causing ten Dementors to scream as their bodies were obliterated.

"Fuel yer rage inta the weapon, demand justice, demand payment!" she growled and Bella could only nod. She stared at the weapon in her hand, what had once been her Flescá. It was a sword, shaped like an ancient Celtic broad sword, a leaflike blade fitted to a rounded pommel and handle. It was short, but light enough that it flowed easily with her movements. Six months of hard drills and practice sprang to life as she lashed out and hacked into a second Dementor. 

The creature scrabbled at the ground and tried to fly away. Bella replied to its terror with a cackle before pulling both arms over her head and driving the sword down into its blackened heart.

Another implosion and more black acidic blood spashed across the ground and started to eat away at the sand. The flurry of motion around her began to lag off as the Dementors realized it was a trap. The keening call of the Sluagh suddenly ceased, and she could make out their dark forms littering the sky as they retreated from the island. Casting her glance across what made up her kills she felt a smile come to her lips. For once her skill in murder had been used for more than just cold blooded massacre. For once she did something - right.

"Do ye ken why I told ye ta demand justice?" Erin was by her side, the moon making her pale inhuman skin glow.

"I don't deserve justice," she replied morosely "I've killed hundreds. Beasts...muggles, and mudbloods and...."

"Horseshit," Erin rounded on her and she felt a cool burning sensation enter her mind, "ye've told yerself for years tat yer actions were because ye necessarily wanted dem. Yes, ye did Bella."

The Dark Witch sat there confused and waited for an explanation. Erin didn't say a thing though, she simply reached into Bellas head and ripped off the scar tissue which held her worse memories. As they filled her eyes, more of her father hurting her, of Voldemort punishing her plea filled attempts after she froze too quickly in killing a muggleborn.

"Yer just as much a victim Bellatrix Black. Abused fer years, an' den groomed as a teen an' manipulated by idiot who was tryin' to runaway from deat" the Morrigan spoke.

"I AM NO ONE'S VICTIM," she bellowed in the deity's face causing her to smile.

"Good....take that rage - anger - tat passion Bellatrix Black, an' harness it. It be time fer ye to make yer own destiny," Erin spoke as Bella beheaded an escaping Dementor, sweat dripped down her face and slicked her hair to her head. A new sense of invigoration filled her while she lifted the Flescá over her head and the spiritual sword dissipated.

"I...feel." The ravenhead tried to put it all into words she could understand. Staring at her hands a wet sensation struck then as the coppery smell of flesh blood met her nose. Something large and flesh bumped against her legs as she realized she was standing in the water. How had I not realized I'd waded out into the water? The thing bumped against her leg again and this time she looked down. Who she saw frightened her. The ashen faced form of her cousin, Sirius Arcturus Black, his face was pale from a lack of blood. His hands drifting under the water as his nose and lips barely crested the top of it. She shivered as she watched the eyes open and show the clouded half-rotten lack of life within.

"You killed me."

Shaking her head she stumbled back as she felt something behind her. Whipping around she saw the face of another victim that stupid little House Elf who had dared to attack her at her sister's manor. But still, she felt more fresh blood on her hands as she found herself holding her now lost knife. Rolling its handle in her hand she heard.

"You SLAUGHTERED ME!"

The Dark Witch blinked, her body froze, as she saw someone standing on the beach. Really, it should have hit her right away who the woman, more accurately the girl was. No though, it took her a few moments to remember her name, Hermione Granger. The feel of her begging and squirming beneath her set her skin ablaze, and yet as she thought about it now she could only lean forward and vomit. It came rushing from her mouth and splashed out onto the cold sand. Her stomach heaved as she felt the guilt rise up resulting in another wretch and a hard unsettled sense of equilibrium. Sweat covered her body as she felt someone place their hand on her shoulder.

Reflexively she spun around and aimed the end of her Flescá against Erin's left temple. The glowing green eyes of the faerie queen simmered in the now dark night as the stars twinkled above her. She shivered in the cold as that hand started to burn her skin. What have I agreed to? Bellatrix's mind attempted to bring it all into focus or at least make sense of it. A glance over her shoulder revealed the forms of several bodies floating in the water, legs and arms limp at their sides. Faces peering up from the dark water and staring at the sky and the stars.

"What did I just see?" she demanded from Erin.

"Yer victims an' da consequences o' yer actions Bellatrix Black," the deity replied. Her head tilted to the side owl-like and her eyes didn't blink. "Ye 'av nevarr felt remarse fer wha' ye did, or guilt."

"I spent fourteen years in Azka-" she ceased as Erin raised her hand to ask her to wait.

"Injustice fer injustice -does nae even da balance- Bella," she felt the hand release her shoulder, "ye must tink on wha yiz seen."

She stared at the back of the Morrigan, of her Patron. When she served as the Right-Hand of Lord Voldemort, she had done his wishes and tried her best to learn from him. In all her time with Tom Marvolo Riddle she'd only learned what he deemed important. But did he teach me anything? Bellatrix drew her gaze up at the moon which shown above and the stars. The light of the open night called to her in a fashion it never had. Even with the ghostly bodies of her victims behind her she began to feel something dawning on her.

When I came here, it was my choice. Just like it was to serve the Dark Lord. Her parents had stolen choice and agency from her. Magic is might. That was the philosophy pushed forward by Lord Voldemort. But really was it anything but propaganda? A bit of needling doubt struck Bellatrix and as she felt it she did what she did best at the moment, ran and ignored it. Tonight was not a time for complicated philosophy thought Bella. No, it was a time to go watch Xena with her daughter.

Early Afternoon, November 12th, 1998 - Diagon Alley

Hermione Granger

Hermione was unsure why she was putting off returning to Hogwarts. There truly wasn't any good reason for her to not join Ron and Raine in completing their seventh year and graduate. But something was holding her back, or more appropriately many somethings. Everytime she sat down with Ginny to speak about the subject she always found an excuse for why she was at the Burrow studying independently. Or training with Andromeda in between keeping tabs on both Tonks and Remus. Where one might say Hermione Granger lived no life at all, one would ignore a few things. Hermione Granger was the Brightest-Witch-Of-Her-Age, one of the few to hold the title exactly in a generation. If there was any witch worth her salt who could take the NEWTS standing on her.

If anyone could do it she could. Hermione didn't even need to think about it as theory. Raine was fairly blunt in their opinion of what Hermione could do if she set her mind to it. Ron even agreed with their best friend, and appeared to be mending the bridge he almost burnt with them. She felt a bit off though, questioning her decision to go it alone just seemed a bit too rash for her. Usually she sat down, and spent hours researching and thinking over the results of anything before making a decision. Rarely did she make any movement without consideration. Yet, where had that gotten her.

Her parents gone, and her life filled with nothing. She woke up, she studied, and she went to St. Mungo's to check on Remus and Tonks. That was it, sure she studied in between, but that wasn't a life was it? A little thought at the back of her mind, that self deprecating stance which had led to her falling into depression from Draco Malfoy's bullying pushed this agenda. She was just running in place. Hermione Granger should be back at school where she could properly learn how to do things.

That thought existed until a few days before when Hermione walked into her family home in Hampstead and met a faerie. Not just any faerie, but one powerful enough to have a name in legend. Brigid, she called herself, Queen of the Four Flames, and a powerful edifice of ancient Britain. At first, Hermione didn't believe anything about the so-called Goddess, only that she was powerful sorceress. Over time though, the more she looked at it, and as Brigid began to show her bits and pieces of her own memory via a strange quicksilver pensieve, she knew the truth. For more than a decade, the ancient goddess of crafting, magic, and life had watched over her. And every wish the little girl of the Granger family made within reason she granted.

The weight of this realization struck hard, but what was even more confusing was the price Brigid (or "Brigitte" as she preferred) required of her.

"I want you to become the greatest witch you can be, graduate and demolish the NEWTs." Her words still rang clearly in the Brunette's mind. "For in a year and a day, you will begin your apprenticeship with me."

Whatever that meant, it was frightening to hear. Frightening and yet, exhilarating. A Goddess, wanted to train Hermione Granger the Muggleborn daughter of Samuel and Irie Granger. Tom Riddle could sod off claiming to be the most powerful wizard of his age. Who better to demolish that notion than being the apprentice to one of the most powerful sorcerous entities in all of Britain?

Truth be told, she was utterly terrified.

"Do you know what a Warlock is Hermione?" she heard from behind her as she turned around to face Brigitte as the goddess waited. They were sitting in a cafe on the slowly rebuilding streets of Diagon Alley. Her hands were around a warm cuppa and her ageless mentor was talking to her about philosophy.

"It's a title in the Wizarding world," she replied, "Headmaster Dumbledore held the title of Head Warlock..."

"Ah yes...Lord Albus Dumbledore," Brigitte stated with derision. "The so-called leader of the Light."

"Please show respect for a man I-" again she was interrupted.

"I respected Albus Dumbledore, Hermione, but I also realize that his actions were foolhardy at best," she replied.

The young witch considered the woman's words and sighed. It wasn't the first time she considered the dangerous convoluted plans of Albus Dumbledore. A former master of the Elder Wand, and the man who defeated Gellert Grindlewald.

"Fine, Brigitte, you are so intent on educating me about what a Warlock is, then tell me." Hermione's tone was harsh, but she cut to the point.

"You're right, I'll play the fools own game if I don't explain myself." The Goddess took a sip of her tea and tapped her right index finger against the table. "A Warlock is someone who breaks the covenant they make with others."

"I've heard that definition in some of the Muggle neo-pagan circles," Hermione nodded, "It applies to magic as well."

"The strong forms of magic are those based upon agreements bonding more than one individual to another." Brigitte began to trace her finger more elaborately on the top of the table.

"Romans called it Comitiatus, the retainer of a lord, or more appropriately the sworn family of someone," she smiled. "Through common cause, and common agreement comes the most powerful of magicks."

"So like the Death Eater cause then," Hermione said deciding to poke a few holes.

"Yes - in the most basic terms. A hemocist would argue that blood creates the strongest bonds of magic, and they are correct." Brigitte said as her finger drew out a spiral.

"Which is the basis for the Pureblood Philosophy," Hermione countered.

"The corruption of the hemocist philosophy, puritanical hemocists argue that through blood magic remains strong." Brigitte continued.

"But you're arguing that magic is stronger in the bonds forged in friendship rather than family." Hermione completed.

"No...it's more complicated than that, but you're starting to get it," her amateur teacher laughed. The two spoke for another hour before Hermione finished off a sandwich she ended up ordering. Brigitte was eating her third bowl of mac and cheese as the two were nearly finished with lunch. Hermione considered the subject of their discussion. Never in History of Magic did Professor Binns actually mention the formation of the pureblood philosophy. Nor did any class except Ancient Runes really cover the indepth bonds of magic.

Really, it was sad to see how badly her upbringing had been sanitized. She considered asking Brigitte more about it, but the tall woman was already standing and offering her hand to the young woman. What drew her attention however was the fact that much like Tonks, Brigitte appeared to be a metamorphagus. Her height lowered by a few inches till she was the same height as Hermione, and then her less than perfect face took on a few small imperfections. A scar graced just below her lip, and freckles started to dot her cheeks. The faerie's signature red eyes shifted to a common hazel before she offered Hermione a smile.

"Where are we going?" the brunette asked.

"Oh, we're going to the Wizengamot archives," she smiled and offered ahand to her ward.

"Why, exactly?" Hermione said.

"Your training starts - now," she stated. Reluctantly, Hermione took the woman's hand and in an instant she felt herself being pulled through space. It was like a great rubber band was dragging against her middle only for her to snap back into space. The sudden change from the sunny fresh air of Diagon Alley to what Hermione could only describe as musty magic filled one caused her stomach to lurch. Side-along apparation was always like that, but for some reason it felt even harsher than before. Hermione's eyes adjusted to the sudden change of light with relative ease as Brigtte snapped her fingers and a row of floating lights appeared.

The small will'o'wisps revealed over two stories worth of written records towering well above them. Each shelf was constructed of thick black wood with bits and pieces of metal scaffolding built around it allowing workers to retrieve the necessary records. She wondered why they simply didn't use brooms or perhaps summoning spells in such a massive place, but she then noticed a severe lack of ladders. Plus a group of people was sitting on one of the scaffolds and appeared to be doing careful repair of several long lengths of parchments.

"Why are we here?" she inquired as Brigitte promply began strolling down the main aisle of the shelves. As she ran to catch up they passed what felt like ten rows before coming to a small tight little desk sitting in the middle of the aisle. The desk itself was perhaps a meter wide and came up to Hermione's chest. A woman smartly dressed in a light blue blouse and pencil skirt was busily checking over a series of records. A dicta-quill sat by coping over notes from a paper to her right, and as the two waited for a minute the quill finished and flew back into its inkwell. Automatically the paper folded itself into a small paper airplane and sailed off into the air.

"We are here to ask miss Brown here for a particular record," she stated before turning to the archivist.

"Wait, Brown," Hermione froze as the witch finally acknowledge the two of them and smiled. She eyed the two of them behind a pair of thing rimmed round reading glasses, and tapped her quill on the desktop.

"Yes, and you must be Hermione Granger," the woman replied and gave a genial smile.

"Are you related to Lavendar?" she asked carefully.

"Yes, she's my younger cousin, I'm Hyacinth Brown," she nodded.

"I'm sorry for Lavendar's passing...."

"Oh, Lavendar's alive, but she asked we let most people think she died....she's ashamed of being a werewolf," Hyacinth sighed as she reached over and grabbed a ledger as they spoke.

"Wait what?" Hermione asked.

"Aye, your friend's family while being purebloods were more concerned with her health than with her new status," Brigid stated.

"Miss Brigitte Lyoncour has been helping a lot, she's a talented therapist and mind healer," Hyacinth said.

"Where is she living right now?" Hermione wondered.

"She's at our family estate on the Isle of Mann," Hyacinth stated before asking, "And what are you doing here today Miss Lyoncour?"

Hermione was a little bit stunned that one of her class mates would be so extreme as to fake their own death. Even if it was only done by ignoring a ministerial error. The revelation that Brigitte was masquerading as a mind healer wasn't entirely surprising. She was a goddess of various subjects including healing according to some legends.

"Oh, for one thing, though I want to just live here honestly," the red haired woman laughed.

"You do seem to be here - a lot recently," Hyacinth commented as she began to tap her quill again quite loudly.

"I need a few things actually. first, the only copy of 'Magical Europe: A Complete History'," Brigid began before adding, "Oh, and I need the designs for a wizard's staff."

"Oh....that book was Thickness' least favorite since it openly questioned his fascist sympathies," Hyacinth sighed.

"Thank you it's been annoying me since this entire thing started!" Brigid chuckled, "Everyone around Magical Britain dances around calling those Nazi wannabes anything but Nazi Wizards!"

"Well, if you were to take in their need to wear cloaks and masks while scaring people at night," Hermione added up, "Which is similar to a very poorly named white supremacist group in America."

"Death Eater is a stupid enough name to fit right with those cunts," Brigid said causing both other women to glance at her.

"What? It's Britain!" the Goddess protested.

"Sure, because everyone just says it in polite company in a professional setting," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Anywho," Hyacinth stopped her finger in the ledger and pulled out her wand and with a quick few moments of wordless magic and without warning a shuffling could be heard a few shelves down and a story or two above. In seconds a small book came flying out of the air and landed gently in front of Hyacinth.

"That's a small book for an entire history of Europe," Hermione mused as she took the book after Brigitte picked it up to hand it to her.

"It's a condensed magical tome, basically you select a section and the pages replicate as you need," smiled Hyacinth as she tapped her quill again. "Now - what wizard staff designs do you need exactly?"

"Oh, I need the 'lost' records Richard Ollivander's investigation on Morgana Le Faye's staff," Brigitte chirped as she smilled and gave a thumbs up.

"You're kidding me...you realize lost means means it's not findable here at all right," Hyacinth rubbed her brow, "As in never coming back."

"See, I've been thinking about that. I think everyone's been trying to locate it under the wrong name," Brigitte offered.

"You are always such a bundle of joy aren't you Miss Lyoncour," Hyacinth shook her head before breaking her quill in half and tossing it into the trash at her side.

"How about you give her the name instead of antagonizing the nice Ministry official," Hermione moaned.

"Because this is far funnier and enjoyable than the easy route!" Brigitte giggled as a strange eerie red light flashed in her eyes.

"Manann's balls, fine, give me the bloody title, geeze," Hyacinth grit out as she seemed to be aware of the more inhuman elements of Miss Lyoncour's nature.

"Invoking family how wonderful," Brigid groaned before stating, "Alexandra Lovegood's 'The Relics of Avalon."

"That's not even related to the works of Richard Ollivander," Hyacinth said before snapping out the name in a summoning charm. For a few seconds nothing happening, before a loud cry of alarm came from above. A wizard on a broom dodged a large scroll which came zooming at high speed directly for Hyacinth. Just as it was about to strike the witch she caught it three inches from her head and set the two foot wide scroll down upon the desk. Several runes covered the scroll with the seal of the Lovegood family on a bespelled lock.

"Well, looks like we get to visit your friend Luna!" Brigitte said as she glanced over at Hermione. The younger witch gave a sigh as she rolled her eyes, yet again. Hermione was uncertain where Brigitte's 'training' was going to take her. First, books and now a visit to Luna. What else is going to happen a jaunty trip to Mount Doom while we're at it?

Late Afternoon, November 13th, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black

Bellatrix was always a fighter and a preeminent duelist. She was the Right-Hand of the Dark Lord and one of the most feared warriors of the New Alliance movement! She fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and killed several members of the order. What she learned though during the War was a few things. First, while magical combat was deadly, it was completely useless compared to someone who was a master of magic and martial war. This was a fact she learned the hard way when the Flescá's haft struck her jaw and she felt the bone break all of her experience was realized to a few simple facts.

It was shit.

The Morrigan was beyond the ken of herself and even her Master. Lord Voldemort was capable of powerful acts of magic and was a peerless warrior in combat. When the tall woman morphed into a smaller, but still muscled version of herself to equalize the training for Bella the Dark Witch assumed she had a chance to at least draw first blood. Oh by the Old Gods she was learning it the hard way. When Erin blocked the first two strikes of her walking stick focus effortlessly and then tripped her on her ass. A first of many impacts that would fall upon her aging body.

"Da grea' Bellatrix Black cannae even land a feckin' blow on me, nae even a punch!" the woman cackled. Her green eyes were blazing with power, the pure magic leaked from her eyes as she offered a hand to Bellatrix and when the Dark Witch took it an arch of energy traveled up her arm. Almost instantly she felt her jaw muscles knitting themselves back together to fighting shape.

"If ye can heal so well why didnya heal my teeth?" she asked her voice slowly taking on a similar accent to the deity.

"Me magic isn't unlimited," Erin commented as a flick of her wrist sent a Scroungify Charm across the floor to clean the blood.

"So ye just have a bigger magical connection?" Blella asked.

"Aye an' nay," Erin thumbed her nose and indicated with her hand that they would continue.

"Its either that or you are capable of tapping directly into the leylines," Bella said.

"Yes, that's it actually," Erin nodded before dropping low and driving a kick into Bella's right foot. The Dark Witch was ready this time and rolled with the fall and brought up her Flescá in an upward strike. Momentum and the hard firmness of the black walnut walking-stick hit the deity's ribs with a fine crack causing Erin to let out a groan of pain. She countered the hit by snapping out a hard Depulso. Bella found herself flying back two feet as she rolled the Flescá over her hand and crack two hard disarming charms at Erin.

"Gettin' bettar, quick castin' be the strengt o' the Flescá," she blocked each spell with a shield, and used the Maxima modification to expand it into three triangular green panels. Each panel existing as an extension of magical energy slowly flowing from the head of the emerald bound Flescá.

"Not, bad....DIFFINDO TERNĪ!" Each movement of her free hand derived three crosswise cuts against the shields. A loud scraping sound emerged and reverberated off the shields. "FUCKING HELL! SECTUMSEMPRA BINĪ."

Twin waves of cutting energy sailed out from her hands and like great blades drove themselves into the shield. Fractures began to crack and spider web their way along each of the shields. She finally growled, "AVADA KADAVRA!"

"Pffff......Exspecto Telum," she heard Erin mock as the green flash just barely missed her, sailing just past her right arm. "I didna giv ye permission fer the Killing Curse."

"You never said I couldn't!" Bellatrix snapped back with a giggle.

"Fiiiiiine." This time the Goddess jumped forward as a spectral spear emerged in her hand. A massive spear six feet long came swiftly toward her ribcage. The hard thrust forced Bella to twist out of the way, but the right edge of the spear-head sliced into her right underarm.

"BUGGER!" she screamed as blood seeped from the wound.

"FIGHT BETTER BELLA!' the Goddess slammed her secondary weapon into Bella's face causing a spray of blood and gore to come from her mouth.

"You bloody bint, you made me loose a fucking tooth!" the Dark Witch countered.

"All I hear is BOOHOO YER NEEDS!' the War Goddess spun around and the spear spun around and sliced right into the woman's chest.

"Oh...fucking hell." She moaned as she fell onto her back, her vision starting to waver. Bellatrix counted to three and felt the creeping pain of that same arc of energy from earlier. Now, it was causing each of her muscles to spasm in pain, a gurgling scream came out of her mouth as she grit her teeth before sitting up and glaring at Erin. The Deity was sitting across from her a small worried expression on her face and she fell on her back with a loud sigh.

"Okay, yer getting bettar," she said, "soon we can begin trainin ye ta be Chief."

The words went flying over her head as the Dark Witch considered her request for live combat. I just had to challenge her to a fucking duel. She sighed as she rolled over on her left side and glanced at the mirrored wall. She appeared younger at a glance, her skin far tauter and fewer scars. Her teeth were already healing better than whateer Cissy did back after she was out of Azakaban. In fact, she appeared to be only in her late thirties now rather than her fifties.

"Are you healing my Azkaban damage as we fight?" she asked.

"Mmmm? Aye, it's easier ta replace damaged flesh when ye punch it out," the deity stated.

"How wonderful, what was this about training me to be chief?" she asked.

"Good, now onta tat!" Erin clapped her hands and jumped to her feet. The two were wearing barely a thing except for sports bras and a pair of leggings. Bella's were almost entirely destroyed with cuts and missing fabric all over her leggings. Her bra on the other hand was almost sliced in two with one of the bands on her shoulder barely holding it all together. Meanwhile nary a thread nor bit of fabric of Erin's outfit was cut, she appeared to just fix it as they fought using her excess magic to maintain a false air of perfection. What a fucking Prima Donna. Always has to be peeeerfect.

She used a towel sitting near the door to wipe her face off and it was at that moment Delphin decided to rush in. She was wearing a dark red celtic dress with those ridiculously long cuffs along with a silver belt with a Raven buckle. The tiny dirty blonde's hair was looking darker than a few months ago and as she walked in her eyes widened a little at the bits of blood still on the floor.

"Mummy, whats all that stuff?" she said pointing widely as she rolled on the tips of her toes.

"Tomato sauce," she replied without thinking making the child squint in disbelief.

"Oh yes, your mother and I were secretly making spa bolg, I gave the Elves the day off today," Erin said from down the hall.

"OOOH! I adore spa bolg, is it ready yet mummy?" she asked taking Bella's hand as they started to walk out of the room.

"No I spilled the can everywhere in the gym and so Erin's heading out -now- to start over in the kitchen." She yelled down at the deity who gave a nod before sprinting toward the kitchen.

"Okay mummy," Delphi smiled as she was coaxed to chase after the older witch leaving Bella the hard job of cleaning up.

Luckily there wasn't much blood left on the ground, nor the training matts. What had once been a medieval armory had been transfigured into a training room by Erin about six months ago. It was where Bella first regained some of her lost dexterity and she worked to return the strength given up during Azkaban. Now, she staredat the room and flicked her hand to wandlessly scroungify the entire bloody place. Sitting there for a moment all she could think about was the training ahead of her and what she would soon face.

Dinner that evening and every evening after consisted of spa bolg or for the layman, Spaghetti Bolognaise. Or as American's call it Spaghetti. It was a strange treat for Delphini who much like her fixation with Sailor Moon had an unhealthy love of the red sauce and noodles. During the third night after she was nearly disembowled by her teacher she found her daughter demanding the same fucking dinner again and again. By the fourth night, Erin began to bribe the elves to innovate on the noodle dish and thus started little Delphi's exploration of Italian cuisine. To Bella it was a mixture of some old favorites and several dishes she never tried. Having food prepared for her wasn't unusual for the Dark Witch with her families well established large estate in Southern Scotland. Even if Black House had been there since time immemorial her palatte didn't have to be.

Mayhap this was one of the few things Druella allowed her daughters, a simple love of food. But, even with exploring dishes from other parts of Europe, there was that hawkish ready to abuse voice and mind waiting in the wings. Eating too much food or appearing just a bit too lazy was a quick way to lose any sort of meal privileges for days or even up to a week at its worst. Perhaps it was this reason now and then that Bellatrix had to fight the oncoming desire to tell Delphini not to eat too much. Or to avoid gorging herself on the food. The big difference she started to notice was unlike her parents, Delphini enjoyed an active mother and a life filled with not just television. On sunny days on the Inish she would dare Bella to games of hide and seek, but including Erin placing a strange illusionary charm on the little girl with an hour limit.

Really, it were these games that really let Bella release her inner child and play for the first time in a safe environment. Safe in that she was able to relearn skills such as tracking, and fairness through play. Whenever she did any sort of entertainment or sport as a Death Eater it always involved her unhealthy fixation on the Dark Lord. In truth, she felt guilty over abandoning him during the battle when she realized one crucial thing; Bellatrix Black cared more about her blood than the cause. She cared more about Delphini than her Lord and Master. Even as she thought about it, it sickened her. How could I abandon him?! I should have let Cissy raise Delphi...but...I'm her mum I can't do that. Frantically as she was at the moment sitting on a blanket on the lawn before the castle she began to search for her daughter.

Delphini was last seen running around with a few House Elves who'd taken a liking to the young "Miss" as they called her. Even more so a young faerie child from a nearby estate had also joined in under the watchful eyes of Erin herself. What scared her was that as she glanced around the various tall oak and walnut trees littering the grounds, she saw neither hide nor hair of her only child. Dammit. I'm a worse mother than fucking Druella. She cursed the name of her mother to the high hells and the summerlands, and rose to her feet. The Flescá instantly stood up as she grasped for it and felt the magicks creep along its length. Before she even know what she was doing she uttered the command for a location charm. Instantly a pulse of energy expanded in a wave as her vision notated it as a bending of light flying across the ground.

"Delphi?" she called aloud, and adjusted the Flescá so her hand was resting just below the ravenshead. She gave the incantation this time vocally with a hard command in the tone, "Appare Vestigium." And to finish the action she slammed the butt of her walking stick into the ground sending the spell deep into the clan magicks that seeped throughout the earth around the Inish. Immediately, a line of small greenish footprints outlined by the charm appeared to her sight and in the blink of an eye she was off. Unlike before Bellatrix no longer wore her heeled boots and instead stuck to simple hiking shoes transfigured to fit her feet. The extra grip gave her the needed traction to race across the ground far faster than even she thought she could run.

Outside the first hundred yards of space the castle itself was surrounded by thick deciduous wood made up of oak, rowan, and ash. Trees important to the creation of wands and who had magical implications for the fae. The line of Delphin's footprints led her far past the outer pale of the castle's line of sight until she was just inside the forest line. Upon entering the light from above was instantly turned to darkness and Bella cried out her daughters name once more, "DELPHINI!"

"MUMMUH?" she heard a few feet away and noted that her daughter sound a little fearful. Noting the tone she crept along a deer path as she used a modification of the tracking charm to focus entirely on Delphi's breathing. From what Bellatrix could tell from her daughters increased heart rate she and her little faerie friend were both pinned by something large and rather dangerous against a massive hawthorne tree. Whatever the creature was, she could smell it well before she saw any hint of it. The thing smelled of rotting flesh and seaweed. Her eyes widened immediately as she whipped around a bush to see the form of a dead woman, squat on the ground, barely covered in a long black rough-spun cloak. She was staring with one burning eye at Delphini, who was bravely holding out a stick to keep the creature at bay.

"....Inferius." Bella spoke the word aloud as the creatures head cracked and spun around unnaturally to stare at her. Or what was left of its head. The right eye was completely gone, a massive bite wound having removed even a part of the skull. Another wound tore away at the neck of the creature revealing the things tongue hanging down through it.

"Hellooooo Bellatrix." A voice said as the Inferius rose to its feet and the body rearranged itself til it was inline with its own head.

"How did you find me." Bella’s eyes glanced over at her daughter and the faerie child. The child was clutching his right arm, where a bite wound was bleeding badly.

"We tracked the Master's scent to this Island. Strange, how did you come to a faerie Broch?" the thing asked.

"It's mistress is training me as her apprentice," she replied, her hand resting harder on the Flescá.

"You betrayed the Dark Lord only to serve some creature?" it stated, it's eye glowing red with blood-lust.

"The Dark Lord is dead," she stated, "Potter slew him, and now the entirety of the cause is heading to Azkaban." Her words were filled with rage, as she eyed her daughter one more time.

"We will bring him back, using the body of the girl," the voice replied, "The Lord's Hand will do so via Consumate Anastasia!"

"The Dark Lord's Horcrux's are gone, his soul was taken BY death." She glared, as rage began to build even further.

"We'll use her soul to power the spell!" it cackled.

"No one touches my daughter," the words came out of her mouth, as she felt her rage overpower her and she cried out, "DEPULSO!"

The words forced the creature back as a hard wave hit it. ZIpping through the air fourteen feet, it struck a tree as Bellatrix then uttered, "Exspecto Telum."

She ran the short distance between her and the creature.

"This shell is merely one of many ready to come here again, you can't stop them all Bellatrix Lestrange," the words finally confirmed to her who it was.

"Rookwood...you are always a shit Necrotic Sorcerer," she smiled swinging the Telus in her hands, the glowing white sword burned with the light of her rage.

"How....how are you using Spiritual Necrosorcery!' the Inferius demanded, its burning eye widened in shock, "No Death Eater can use it! It requires a touch of the LIght!"

"Oh you fucking moron," she jumped forward and feinted to the right as the creature moved to grapple her. Dancing to the things left she brought the weapon down and severed one of its arms. "You think we served a powerful Wizard?"

"He was the most powerful!" Rookwood countered through his meat puppet, "He was the true master of the Elder Wand!"

"Pfft!" she sighed as the thing swiped its long dead bone hands cutting into her side. She brought the weapon up and cut off the things remaining hand. Now, without both an arm or a hand, the monster leaned back. Rookwood could be heard groaning as though trying to make it move with the aetheric bindings frayed.

"I SERVE THE MORRIGAN! MISTRESS OF DEATH AND WAR," she bellowed and as the Inferius made one last leap she used both hands to drive the Telus straight into its heart.

"How!?" it cried, as it struggled, it's black ichorous blood pouring down onto Bella's chest.

"I am a Black, the Most Ancient and Noble House of the Isles. I made a wish," and she twisted the blade, "And she answered."

"Fool. No one can serve one of the Powers in such way!" it replied.

"I do not serve," she growled, and pulled out her weapon. "I am her apprentice."

"The Fae do not take apprentices! Nor does one of the Old Ones take one as tainted as you." It laughed, Rookwood appeared to have regained his footing.

"I'm sick of your blathering," she shook her head and motioned for her daughter to run back to the House. Delphini now a little less terrified and a bit more in awe of her mother becoming an actual "Sailor Scout" obeyed. She and her little friend quickly took off, the creature eyed them while Bella recalled the Telus and stood over the now nearly destroyed Inferius.

"We know where you are Bellatrix, we will send more," she heard it say.

"You've shown your hand Rookwood, the wards of the Inish will prevent you from returning." She wondered how Erin would react to something so foul upon her home. The ire of the Phantom Queen was not one anyone would truly want.

"Fuck you - you stupid fucking cu-" he was cut off as Bella growled, "Depulso Manes!"

At the words, there was a loud chime, like the striking of midnight of Big Ben in London. Or more appropriately, the sound of a churchbell tolling. A weird blue flame appeared in Bella's right hand as she held it over the Inferius before repeating the incantation. At the recitement the flame jumped to the ground and burned a ring around the creature. Fire spread faster making the ground itself seeming to burn away until nothing except a glowing chasm remained. How the Inferius didn't immediately fall through was an act of magic itself. An unnatural suction, however, started yanking the severed hand and arm from the ground and pulling them into the chasm.

"...I serve a Necrosorceress you mudminded fool," her eyes narrowed as an almost deadly green glint appeared, "I was foolish to think the Dark Lord didn't have anyone his equal or his superior."

"But you found her," Rookwood said as the Inferius attempted to fight the pull.

"Yes...so consider this your one and only warning...stay away from my family." She hissed at the steadily deteriorating corpse.

"We'll be waiting Bella, and when you leave your little Island. We will find you and take her." The voice gasped as the last of its body was pulled into the abyss. As it disappeared into the great maw of the circle the fire died instantly. Bella was alone in the darkness of the forest, and covered in sweat. Her shoulder and side hurt. The witch considered the future. If those fools wish to test me, I'll teach them why it is wise to fear the House of Black.

 

To Be Continued