𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘂𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

The wind clawed at the windows of the old attic like something alive, desperate to get in. Vivienne sat unmoving before a dying candle, her fingers curled tightly around a brittle piece of parchment. The note had faded, but the words still burned:

 "If I must watch you become what we once feared, then I will no longer watch at all. "

— V.

She stared at it, lips pressed in a hard line, as if the paper still had something left to say. But it didn't. It never did.

The scent of firewhisky clung to the air, mingling with the salt of the sea outside. And then, unbidden, the memory came.

---

Flashback – The Last Night at Hogwarts

It was late. The halls of Hogwarts were empty, carved in moonlight. Vivienne moved through the shadows like a thought unspoken, her robes whispering behind her. She found Bellatrix in the abandoned Charms classroom. Alone. As always, exactly where Vivienne knew she'd be. Bellatrix stood at the window, her back turned. Her reflection in the glass was pale and sharp-edged, like a ghost that hadn't yet decided if it wanted to be seen.

Vivienne closed the door behind her. "You missed dinner."

Bellatrix didn't turn. "I've had my fill of school feasts."

"You've barely looked at me in days."

Now Bellatrix turned, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Perhaps I was looking elsewhere."

Vivienne's expression didn't change, but something behind her gaze sharpened.

"Don't do that," she said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Pretend you're not terrified."

Bellatrix scoffed. "Terrified? Of what? Of finally having purpose? Of shedding this cage and becoming something—greater?"

"Of becoming a weapon for someone else's war."

Bellatrix moved toward her slowly, the candlelight glinting off her hair like black fire. "You think you know everything, don't you? Just because you read faster than the rest of us and keep your robes neat and your emotions folded like handkerchiefs."

Vivienne stood still. "I know you."

"No, Vivienne," Bellatrix whispered, drawing closer. "You don't. You know the girl who followed you around this castle like a curse. You know the girl who gave you her secrets, who—who felt too much." Her voice cracked. "But she's dead now."

"She's not," Vivienne said, her voice steel beneath velvet. "She's standing right in front of me, and she's scared out of her mind."

Bellatrix's lip curled. "You're such a fool. You're a filthy little half-blood who got lucky with a green tie and a clever tongue. Don't pretend you belong in this war."

"And you think you do? You think Voldemort cares if your soul burns in the process, so long as you're loyal?" Her tone turned harsh. "You're not loyal. You're his. You used to be mine."

Bellatrix flinched.

A long silence stretched between them like a blade.

Then Bellatrix said, quieter: "Come with me."

Vivienne blinked. "What?"

"Come with me," Bellatrix repeated. "Leave this. Come now. Join us. I'll protect you."

Vivienne looked at her for a long time. "You already left me," she said.

"I didn't—" Bellatrix stopped herself. "I'm offering you everything."

"You're offering me chains," Vivienne said. "I'd rather die on my feet."

Bellatrix laughed then—bitter, hollow. "I should've known," she spat. "You were always too proud."

"And you were always too afraid of what you felt."

A flicker of something — pain, maybe — crossed Bellatrix's face.

Before either could speak again, footsteps echoed outside the door.

Rodolphus.

Bellatrix's face hardened instantly, composure snapping back into place. "You should go."

Vivienne didn't move.

Bellatrix added, low and bitter: "Before I change my mind and make you."

Vivienne turned, her face unreadable. "Goodbye, Bellatrix."

She left the room without looking back.

---

Back to Present 

In the house, the candle flickered as Vivienne held the note closer to the flame. It curled, blackened, and disappeared. The words were ash now. But the scar remained.

The old stone cottage was tucked deep in the Cotswolds, its ivy-covered walls hidden beneath enchantments only blood could undo. The kind of place that had seen too much, remembered too little.

Vivienne stood at the hearth now, back straight despite the aches. Her eyes still burned with the ghost of the past. But she didn't look up when the fireplace roared green.

Two women stepped out of the Floo.

Andromeda was the first — sharp eyes, grey as snowfall, her wand already in hand, gaze sweeping the room like a hawk. Narcissa followed a second later, her robes immaculate despite the urgency, her expression a complex tapestry of worry and guilt.

"You're late," Vivienne said flatly.

"You're alive," Narcissa answered, dropping the pretense of formality.

Andromeda was already moving across the room. "You shouldn't be standing."

"I'm fine," Vivienne lied.

"No, you're not," Andromeda snapped, kneeling before her and conjuring a glowing poultice. "I can see your ribs through your shirt."

Vivienne hissed as the salve touched skin, but said nothing.

Narcissa stood a few paces away, arms crossed tightly. "Do you even know how close it was? Bellatrix nearly—"

"She didn't," Vivienne cut in, eyes locking with hers.

Andromeda glanced between them, quiet for once. "What happened between you two?"

Vivienne hesitated, then looked down. "She almost let me go."

"Almost," Narcissa repeated bitterly. "She's still hers. You know that."

"No," Vivienne said. "She's still divided. That's worse."

Silence fell. Then Narcissa sat, for the first time allowing herself to sag under the weight of it all.

"You shouldn't have come back to London," she said quietly. "You knew it would pull her in again."

Vivienne gave a soft, humorless laugh. "She was never out, Narcissa."

Andromeda stood, wiping her hands. "So what now?"

"I recover," Vivienne replied. "Then I end this."

Narcissa looked at her sharply. "By doing what?"

Vivienne lifted her eyes, and for the first time in days, there was fire there.

"By going back," she said. "By facing her. One last time."