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

Part 26

We move far enough away from the corpse of the creature that we can breathe clean air. The walk is slow and quiet, neither of us prepared to expend any more energy than absolutely necessary. We haven't found any traces of Bellatrix in this wing - not even hints of her magic - so our goal is just to get out as safely as possible.

It's very likely that this eventually leads back up into the central room where we found Bellatrix's journal. The main pathway is slanted very slightly upwards, with branching suites and rooms off to either side. I'm not sure where else this would be going, though the construction of this place is confusing enough that I wouldn't be overly surprised should we come out in a different area entirely.

"What do you think? Is it really dead this time?" It'll be a long walk - may as well fill the time with conversation.

"If it somehow survived that, I fear it may be entirely indestructible." I can't say I disagree, but I think I'll be keeping some silver on me from now on.

I hum my agreement, then retrieve Bellatrix's journal from my robes. These pages are the key to this whole mystery. I can feel it in the very core of my being, some magical force seeming to draw my attention to it with a gentle tug. "This is it, then. Our step forward. The big break we've been searching for."

"Is it?" Cissa eyes me curiously. "You seem oddly convinced."

"Can't you feel it? It's like the world wants me to open these pages." I do open the journal, though it's still blank. "Les sœurs avant le sang," I whisper, only slightly disappointed by the lack of response. My pronunciation wasn't the best since I'm just emulating what I've heard, and even Cissa got nothing last time she tried.

"No, I cannot say I feel much of anything, though you do seem to be much more sensitive to magic than I." I shrug, not sure how to feel about that. "If you say it is calling to you, then I believe you. We just need to figure out the password."

"Any ideas for a possible second half?" We haven't exactly had much time to think about it, much less discuss it, but it's possible that Cissa has come up with something. "You know her better than I do."

"Only vague guesswork. Nothing I would even bother trying." She moves a bit closer to me and continues, "Now, your pronunciation needs work. We should start with..."

By the time the path changes from the same generic, abandoned rooms on repeat, I actually have a decent grasp of the basic sounds of the language. With coaching, I'm sure I could learn a phrase or two, even though I'd be lacking in practical skill. I'd like to try using Bellatrix's password. It should be a good test of my pronunciation. "I never did ask, what does her password mean?"

It takes Cissa several long moments to speak, and when she does her voice is tinged with sorrow. "Sisterhood before blood." She takes a deep breath, presumably deciding how she wants to continue. "When we were young - so young that I can only just recall the moment - we swore that we would take care of one another over all else. Against suitors, against the cruelties of schoolchildren... even against the weight of our family's expectations." The rest of her breath is let out in a deep sigh. "Clearly that did not stand the actual test of life. When Andie left, she had already been gone for some time - living with Rodolphus. I was not sure whether she would uphold our promise. Even I struggled to decide whether to protect Andie, or abandon her.

"The news reached the Lestrange estate eventually, and I do not need to tell you that she took the news poorly. It was, without a doubt, the most significant spark of rage that I had ever seen from her. To be perfectly honest, that was the moment I should have known that they were not good company to keep. You know that I did stay, despite that."

Sisterhood before blood... but purity before sisterhood, apparently. I can't help but feel a wave of sadness - for Andromeda, so quickly isolated from those she surely thought would support her. For Cissa, torn between her promise and the expectations forced upon her. For Bellatrix, though, all I can muster is a twinge of melancholy, for being so rigid as to lose those that may have saved her from her eventual fate.