𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟕 - 𝟏𝟏

Finally, after one desperately long week, we had finished planning. We were breaking into Gringotts, and it was too late for any doubts or questions. It was happening.

On the day we were leaving, I had to admit that I was more than a little disappointed. I felt bad leaving Luna, I loved living in a real house with warm beds and full meals, and I'd felt so safe with Bill and Fleur, if not downright grateful they had let me into their home at all. I knew suspicion was everywhere, and when your entire family are Death Eaters during a Wizarding War against the Dark Lord himself, that doesn't usually come off very well to the other side.

Still, I had known we were going to have to leave at some point. I just wasn't ready for it to be today.

We had all gathered in Potter and Weasley's room, two wands and Polyjuice Potion in a small cup on the bedside table, and a single hair from Bellatrix's head held in Hermione's fingers. Just looking at the one strand of her hair made my stomach disappear.

"Are you sure that's hers?" Weasley asked hesitantly.

"Positive," Hermione replied, glancing at me.

"It was still on my clothes when I— when— when we came back," I stumbled out. They looked at me sympathetically, and I hated it. Potter's face had gone very hard, like it always did when we mentioned Malfoy Manor.

"So I'll take this," Hermione began again hastily, "and then I'll just slightly transform Alexandra and Ron. Harry will be under the Cloak with Griphook so we won't have to worry about him... and... yes, I think that's it," she finished with a heavy breath. 

"I'll go take the potion and change. You three get Griphook and bring him outside with you. We have to hurry before the whole house wakes up." And then with a grimace, probably imagining who she was about to transform into in a few minutes, she stood and left.

Potter, Weasley and I tiptoed down the hallway, and, not bothering to knock, slipped into Griphook's room. It was small, dark, and stuffy. The only light was coming in from the window, but it was tinted a sort of blood red because Griphook insisted on keeping the curtains closed at all times. 

The second he saw us he stood—already fully dressed—grabbed the Sword we had allowed him to keep, and wordlessly followed us out. I waved my wand so the door wouldn't creak, and we stepped out onto the windy beach. The first rays of sunlight were starting to peak over the horizon, and I willed Hermione to hurry.

When we finally heard her footsteps in the sand we turned around, but it wasn't Hermione. I froze. Bellatrix was walking up the path, over the sand dunes and through beachgrass, her hair whipping around in every direction. I wanted to run as fast as I could in the other direction, but my legs seemed to have locked.

As she got closer she must have noticed my petrified expression, because the face she made was not one I thought I would ever see on Bellatrix. She looked almost apologetic. "How... how do I look?" She asked.

"Hideous," Weasley muttered in horrified awe.

"This is terrible," Bellatrix—Hermione—said, wincing at her own voice. "Well I'll do you two now," she sighed, gesturing to me and Weasley. She stepped closer and raised her wand, and I involuntarily flinched. 

"Maybe I should have changed you both before I took the potion," Hermione mumbled.

"No, I..." I began, but there was nothing to say. "Just do it." I screwed my eyes shut so I wouldn't have to see her pointing her wand at me again, but I felt it. It was very strange, almost like my skin was reforming or my bones were shifting inside me. I felt my hair shorten until it was brushing my cheeks, and I swear I grew a little taller.