Act I: I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

Part 20

"Alright, Hermione, you should be good to go." Andromeda flicks her wand to dismiss the diagnostic spell. "You may still experience some discomfort during extremely powerful spell casting, but even that should be slight to a witch of your caliber." I stand with Andromeda and glance down at myself. There's no difference, of course, but it is nice to know I'm whole again. "Are you two still going into the manor?"

"It's necessary if we want to get to the bottom of this."

"Have you considered any alternate interpretations of the prophecy?" I look at her curiously - she hasn't offered any direct opinions of our search since we introduced it to her.

"We've been focusing on this one because the possibility is too significant and dangerous to ignore." I shrug. "The possibility that we're entirely off track remains, of course, but unless some definitive proof that she isn't alive comes about," Like a body, "we'll have to keep tugging at this thread."

"That's... understandable. I just don't like the idea of you two traipsing around Black Manor." Andromeda sighs deeply, eyes distant.

"We'll be careful. No more cursed trees, promise." I know it's an empty comfort. Andromeda grew up there, she knows things about Black Manor that I don't yet. It is the truth, though. If we see any more trees like the first ones, we're finding a different solution.

"I'll hold you to that. I hear anything from Narcissa about more cursed trees, I'm taking your wand away for a month." Andromeda laughs as she says it, but I still get the sense that she's not joking.

I look out over the grounds of Black Manor, taking in the scenery. It's beautiful, of course. The gardens are incredible displays of magical horticulture - hedges arching high above the pathways and terraces, out-of-season flowers blooming in stunning arrangements, and well-kept despite the lack of maintenance.

I've been at the manor for some time - since the sun rose here - just wandering. It's peaceful, and I'm supposed to be meeting Cissa for our trip underneath the manor regardless.

Looking out through the gardens, it's like I can see fragments of their childhood - Cissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix. The furniture is still in perfect condition, and as I step into one of the gardens it adjusts the air around me a bit warmer, fighting off the morning chill. I can imagine the three of them as children, darting around the marble pathways, playing in the gentle warmth of the enchantment. Bellatrix probably started whatever game they were playing. I stop and sit at one of the tables dotted around this particular garden, unsurprised to feel magic tingle through even the chair itself as it adjusts to put me at the correct height to the table.

More and more, I find myself thinking of Bellatrix in two different eras. By all accounts, she was rambunctious as a child - to put it lightly. Even as a teenager, she was mischievous, fiery, and quick-tempered... but never violent.

"When did you change...? What happened?" Was it Andromeda leaving? She cared so much for her sisters, was one of them leaving really so significant as to throw her off course so sharply?

I can imagine her lost, betrayed and hurt by Andromeda's actions, seduced into revenge by Voldemort and his vile rhetoric. He was, if nothing else, an exceptional manipulator, and I have no doubts that he would have sprung at the chance to recruit a powerful witch like Bellatrix by whatever means were necessary.

I let my gaze wander as my mind does the same, looking out over the garden, into the windows of the manor. From beyond the fences, you can't even see the windows, much less see through them, but this close it's easy to see into the building. From here, I'm looking into one of the many sitting rooms on the first floor, and several portraits of Black family ancestors are looking out at me - some with disdain, others with confusion. They've returned in recent days, but not all of them seem to know who I am. I count myself lucky that Cissa silenced them, and that we haven't stumbled upon any portraits of Bellatrix. I doubt she would be so easy to quell.