Finding Rosalind Gryffindor I √

fourteen

-Rosalind Gryffindor-

Her wand twirling in her frizzy hair, Bellatrix's lips twitched quick into an unpleasant state.

"Don't they have anything with them?"

"We sent a man to search for their tent. He should be back soon," Fenrir Greyback replied, his eyes staring cold into hers. Werewolves didn't like to be bossed around, and Bellatrix's sole presence was just doing that.

"Good. Because you know what happens when I get impatient," she chirped, her motif embroidered knife pressed against his cheekbone.

"Get that off. Now," he grunted. 

"What if I don't, wolfie?" She beamed. "Incarcerous!"  With that spell, ropes wrapped around Greyback's wrists and ankles, stretching him in the air. He was about to say something but with the voice of someone's feet stepping on the ground, he turned his head in the direction of the new arrival: Gryffindor's sword. 

Shit, they had found it. 

Bellatrix shot one last look to Greyback. "I'll deal with you later, sweetie." And she left him hanging there, we unwillingly followed her into the manor. I heard him mutter "Bitch." but Bellatrix didn't even flinch.

The steel door was shut hard behind us.

"Now... who wants to confess how they stole the sword from my vault?" Her voice was sweet but deadly. It was one of those rare times I went back to being Ava Wilkins, exactly when I ordered myself not to. The lunatic woman could possess my thoughts. However, the little orphan girl hiding behind the daring, tough image of Rosalind Gryffindor was all I could think of. It was like a much hated alter ego, something I could not embrace, someone only seen by Harry the night of the Yule Ball.

"Why do you avoid the ferret?" He had asked, giving me a confused look.

"I-I..." I couldn't look in his eyes. He couldn't know about it. Not yet.

"Nevermind. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said, tenderly caressing my cheek. I had let him. He had been the only one I let my guard down to ever since I switched to being Rosalind Gryffindor. It was much easier this way, I could fake being brave till I was brave. Houses sorted us into what we valued, after all.

"No one?" She asked dryly. "Then I'll start with you, princess." Her gaze was fixed onto me. Why the fuck did I think of the past in front of a legilimency master?

She dragged me to drawing room before instructing Scabior to take my friends down. "And," she added, "Ask Draco if he knows the swollen face." 

Draco was here. Of course he would be here. I wished the ruthlessly emotionless owner of those stormy eyes would stay silent for a good cause this time. 

"Sweetie, we'll be playing a game now. You'll tell me how you got in my vault. If you won't be cooperative, I'll make you. Bellatrix Lestrange doesn't lose games."

"I don't-"

"Wrong answer! Crucio!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, later drowning in my own cries. "We didn't get in your vault!"

"Liar! Tell me the truth before I rip you into pieces! What else did you take?"

My only response was my muffled cries and my trembling body. She pinned me hard on the floor once again. "Crucio!"

I inhaled deeply. I could surely resist, at least a little, if two Longbottoms held on until they went insane. Only if I knew a bit of Occlumency. Bellatrix reached out for her knife.