Our Corrupted Souls

Part XX: The Locket & The Owner.

"I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank." 

 ~ Langston Hughes

A voice that gradually became louder echoed in the back of her mind. Daria Greengrass had thought this voice to be long gone, like the dark affinity that she'd occluded; however, Lennox had made her feel like a princess stuck in a tower. She liked to be taken care of, yes. After all, she did grow up in an accommodated household, but being smothered was something she has come to despise. And though she attempted to subside her anger, as she stepped foot into her office, the magic seeping from her was enough for the whole room to shake, intimidating an earthquake Britain had not been hit with in a long time. The only thing that stopped her rage from escalating the tremor to the entire floor had been the thick envelope gathering dust on her desk.

She ran her finger just under the sloppy handwriting, burning the first layer of the paper with her magic - what had forced her to calm down. With care, she picked up the envelope - curiosity replacing the rage - and began peeling off a piece before being interrupted by a loud knock. Daria's head perked up. Just as the door opened, she dropped the package on the floor under the desk, and casted a mild notice-me-not. Pale and slim fingers curled on the edge of the door, making her wonder who wished to see her, until she came face to face with the woman behind the door.

"Lestrange..?" Her eyebrow perked up, tone questioning. "May I help you with anything?"

As Bellatrix closed the door behind her, Daria managed to catch a glimpse of the scarring wound on her neck when her curling hair slipped from her shoulders. Intrigued, she waited for Bellatrix to step forward. "You can, actually," responded the woman whose hair, over the months, had become frizzier, as if it were reflecting the madness underneath. "I have a few questions I need you to answer." A paper she held in her hands made its way to Daria's desk. "How dare you sign off on this."

"It is my job to oversee these things," she said after examining the article carefully. She set the paper down, and as so, noticed Bellatrix slightly stubble against the chair across her. Choosing to believe this behavior to be nothing more than an act, Daria said, "it is nothing personal." She passed the paper to the edge, but Bellatrix refused to take it. Instead, she moved until her hands rested on the edge of the desk, frizzling hair falling over her face, and nose inching far too close to Daria. "I did nothing but what I thought was necessary- '' her eyes locked in with that of the younger woman. "You had no right!"

"Lower your voice," Daria returned in a whisper. "Careful, Lestrange. Remember who you are talking to."

"Oh, I certainly am keeping that in mind."

A stare that lasted years took place as Bellatrix's hand clasped Daria's. The witch's bubbling anger returned. Her knuckles became white and for the first time, she envisioned resorting to a barbaric form of violence. The ceiling that was usually decorated with a navy blue shifted to a shadowing black, almost like the room was making way for Death to come collect one of the two souls its scythe called upon. As the office absorbed the dark energy seeping through her, a dark cloud began to form on top of their heads, one that brought flashes of lightning and roaring thunder declaring the start of a war. "If you have nothing further to say," she managed to say although the words became lost through the wave of pain that flowed through her abdomen. "...I suggest you leave my office."

But Daria's words were not registered to Bellatrix's ears, for her mind was far too focused on the magic Daria was letting off to care about the words said. "I have been reminded of the great Chattox for months now and it is honestly beginning to tick me off." Her nails dug into Daria's pale hands and smile vanished, turning into a distasteful snarl. "I know it was you who gave my aurors that tracking charm-"