TᕼE TᖇIᗩᒪ Oᖴ ᑭOTTEᖇ

Chapter 6

Harry closed his eyes, almost as if he was in pain. It was a strange reaction to be sure, but most people were more interested in the answer to the question than his reaction to it. Little was actually known about the girl. She graduated with honors from Durmstrang, but she didn't join the Death Eaters until two years later. Like Harry, she had rarely participated in raids, but unlike him she had not survived the war. Rumors swirled that Bellatrix Lestrange, jealous of Harry's attentions to the girl, had killed her in rage, or that Harry himself had killed her in an effort to advance his position in Voldemort's ranks. No one knew exactly what was true anymore.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, opening his eyes and looking at Daphne.

"What was your relationship with her?" Daphne pressed.

Harry gave her a look. She interpreted the look of him asking exactly which side of her was asking, the lawyer or the girlfriend. Daphne supposed that it was a little bit of both. There was no separating her personal from this case. It was the whole reason she had taken it.

"We were friends," he answered quietly. It was such a loaded sentence, and Daphne knew that he knew that.

"Friends?" she repeated, crossing her arms.

"Surprised?" he asked, smirking. "Did you think Death Eaters sat around and hated each other?"

"Well, you certainly don't sit around and braid each other's hair," Daphne quipped.

Harry's ghostly smiled made another appearance. "Being in that place is what I think being in Hell would be like. Aimee and I were friends because otherwise it's possible we both would have lost our minds." Pausing for a moment, he added, "I trusted her."

"Why?" Daphne asked. It was rare for Harry to say he trusted anyone. The last time he said he trusted someone, he had said it to her.

Harry shook his head. "It would be easier to show you." Three memories were given and deposited into the Pensive.

The first memory started to play. It looked like Voldemort's throne room. The inner circle stood to the side of his throne. Harry was next to Bellatrix while Aimee stood next to Rabastan. There was a young women, probably only nineteen, on her knees in front of her.

"Bella," Voldemort said smoothly. "Teach this Mudblood a lesson." Bellatrix cast a Curcio, causing the girl to spasm on the floor in pain. Harry seemed to look on impassively, but those who knew him saw a hint of fear and revulsion in his eyes. After the girl had screamed so much that she had lost her voice, Voldemort had dismissed the meeting.

Harry walked down a hallway and turned into a bathroom. Closing the door and casting a locking charm on it, he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Daphne watched with horror until Harry stood up, flushed the toilet, and washed his face. He remained there for a while, clutching the countertop tightly.

The door opened, and Harry turned, wand gripped tightly in his hand. Aimee Yaxley stood in the doorway. Her black curls were pinned back, and she could easily be mistaken for Bellatrix except that she was more gentle looking.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, his voice harsher than usual.

Aimee shrugged, twirling her wand in her fingers. "Nothing," she answered casually.

"Well, you know the way out." Aimee didn't respond to that. Instead, she just stood there observing him. Annoyed, Harry turned to face her.

Before he could say anything, she said, "I had been wondering why a Gryffindor Golden Boy would join the Death Eaters. I guess I have my answer now."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You don't know anything," he challenged.

"That's true," Aimee agreed. "But I can guess some things. You don't like killing or torture. I could see it in your eyes. In fact, it disgusts you. Your cover is good, Mr. Potter, but it isn't perfect."