The Girl Who Lived

Escape

June 1st, 1996.
Twenty-nine hours, forty-five minutes, two seconds.
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Elena was free. She was free.

Her hair was billowing behind her as she sprinted through the perplexing halls. The tiles were a kaleidoscope of color and the ceiling was reflecting her figure. She limped as her bad ankle hit the marbled tile.

It had been partially easy to escape. All she needed to do was send a shadow to slip through the wards of magic that kept the bars of her cell from opening.

Once it had opened the cell, she shakily took her first steps outside of her cell. The fear had been enough to make her hesitate but without drinkable water or a healer, she would die in that cell and she needed a chance, no matter how small, to live.

The Department of Mysteries was silent, except for her footsteps. Something about this place was not right.

It felt too familiar, as if she was running in circles. From the delusion of her dehydration, she wondered if she actually was running in literal circles but chances were that Elena was running through the same places she had been.

But something just didn't sit right with her, even as she peeked her head past each corner to make sure no Aurors and Officers or the other two prisoners passed her. Before she left the hall, she found two people in that entire hall inside of cells.

The singing had stopped the moment Elena stepped out of her cell. She came near the other cell, one across from hers.

"How have you done it?" A soft voice asked from behind the bars. Her voice resembled what Elena pictured to be warm spring days.

Elena lit the lanterns near the woman's cell. She gasped and stared at the woman. It had to be impossible- bloody fucking impossible. How- Elena wished she desperately had a wand on her or her knives. They had been taken from her upon her arrival.

"You." Elena choked out. The features were the exact same... The heavy eyes, permanent pouting lips, sunken cheekbones.

Elena had seen that face on wanted posters after her escape from Azkaban. But-

Wait. Those eyes... They weren't black as coal and lifeless. They were warm and brown and kind. The hair- not raven black and tightly curled, but honey brown. Darker than Elena's but brown, nonetheless.

Not Bellatrix Lestrange... Not the woman who slaughtered her mother and tortured her to death. Not the woman who haunted her nightmares or the woman who turned her sister against the other.

"Andromeda Black..." Elena whispered to herself. She hated herself for mistaking the woman for her sinister sister. But the resemblance was so similar that it rattled Elena.

Was this another mere delusion or was this real? Real. It had to be real.

Andromeda Black stood up and gracefully came to the bars. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, and had some of her own blood stains. Seems as though she had been hurt the same way Elena had been.

"Elena Clairmont," Andromeda studied Elena's face carefully, taking in each detail. It was no surprise that Andromeda knew who Elena was on sight- the night Elena survived, Andromeda held her daughter closer to her.

"Forgive me, I thought you were-" Elena began to apologize profusely but Andromeda waved her away.

Her chapped lips curled into a pleasant smile. "Bellatrix? Yes, I always do get confused with her. Such a terrible resemblance."