Chapter 43: Negotiating the Price of Betrayal

"Hello?" Sidra called out, easing open the door to Bellatrix's office. Seeing that Bellatrix was not sitting at her desk, Sidra went to leave the room, but as she turned, she noticed a foot sticking out from behind the desk. Frowning, Sidra stepped further into the room and around the desk. There, she discovered her boss lying on the floor-passed out.

"Well, I must say that I didn't take you for a drunk," Sidra said wryly, noting an empty firewhiskey bottle on the floor before bending down and lightly touching Bellatrix's face.

Bellatrix groaned and cracked open her bloodshot eyes just enough to squint up at Sidra. "Go away," she whispered. "You can have the day off."

"That's not what a dutiful personal secretary would do, ma'am," Sidra said primly, quite enjoying the situation and Bellatrix's misery. "Let's get you up and in your chair."

"No," Bellatrix whispered, "I'm fine down here." She closed her eyes.

Not really anxious to physically or magically force Bellatrix into a chair, Sidra stood up and looked around. On the desk, she spotted a Pensieve filled with memories. "Is that your husband's batch of memories?" Sidra asked.

With lightning speed, Bellatrix leapt up from her position on the floor and swiped at the Pensieve with one of her hands. The magical bowl went flying off the table and then clunked onto the floor, the liquid contents spilling out onto the carpet and evaporating into a multi-colored cloud of steam that quickly faded away.

A smirk formed on Sidra's face as she jumped back. Only needed the right motivation, she thought to herself. However, Sidra's theorized cure was proved impoten when Bellatrix let out a very loud moan as she slumped back to the floor, covering her eyes with her hands. After a moment, she began sobbing.

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and unsure about what to do, Sidra retreated from the room and made a Floo call from the reception area's fireplace to her mother.

"Mum!" Sidra called, sticking her head into the fire and getting a view of the Potter kitchen. "Mum!"

"Sidra?" Lily Potter called from another room. "Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah," Sidra said loudly, just as Lily strode into the kitchen.

"What's is going on? Aren't you at work?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," Sidra said. "Something is amiss. I came in and found Bellatrix on the floor of her office coming off a bender. I woke her up, and now she's crying. I was thinking that maybe you could get a bottle of Dad's hangover brew and bring it over."

"I'll be right there," Lily said, rushing from the room.

Lily made it to the Ministry in record time, though she ended up stopping at the Auror office to drop off a lunch treat for James. After leaving James's department, Lily made her way down the Wizengamot labyrinth, contemplating her relationship with Bellatrix Black. At Hogwarts, Lily had always envied Bellatrix's connection to the ever-fascinating Harry Ashworth. That had made them rivals-at least in Lily's eyes. Bellatrix probably had not viewed Lily as enough of a competitor to return the feelings of rivalry.

Now, it did not really matter, especially after Lily had learned that Harry and Bellatrix had aged no more than a year since they had been around Hogwarts. Yet, for some strange reason, Lily's fascination with Harry Ashworth, now Black, continued. He, and Lily supposed Bellatrix as well, were central to the fight against Voldemort. Although Lily was not personally interested in being Bellatrix's friend, she was interested in making as many connections to Harry as possible. And, of course, there was the need of the Order to keep abreast of anything concerning Harry and Bellatrix, for Harry seemed to possess the power and influence to tip the balance of the war, and Bellatrix was making political waves.

Lily eventually found Bellatrix's office suite. She stepped inside, through the reception area, and into Bellatrix's office, where she found Sidra sitting in Bellatrix's chair as she watched Bellatrix, who was lying on the floor.

"Merlin's beard, Sidra," Lily exclaimed. "Show the poor woman some common decency. Get her onto a couch or something."

"She's happy on the floor," Sidra protested.

"I suppose that is why she is moaning and holding her hands to her head," Lily said sarcastically as she surveyed the surroundings. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the upended Pensieve on the floor.

"Harry's memories from the other night," Sidra said. "I asked if they were his, and she went nuts and threw them on the floor."

"Oh, shut up," Bellatrix whispered.

"We're going to put you on a couch," Lily said, trying to sound soothing as her eyes fell on a comfortable-looking couch positioned next to a coffee table and some armchairs. The couch, armchairs, and coffee table were probably there so that Bellatrix could sit with visitors when she was trying to convey an informal impression. Lily drew her wand and cast a levitation charm on Bellatrix.

Lily and Sidra followed Bellatrix's floating form to the couch, where Lily set Bellatrix down. Sidra then sat down in one of the chairs as Lily pulled a hangover potion from her pocket and administered it to Bellatrix. The hangover potion managed to take full effect after about half an hour. Bellatrix proved its success by sitting up smoothly without any wincing or groaning. However, it was clear to Lily and Sidra from Bellatrix's posture that Bellatrix was exhausted.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Lily asked.

"Talk about what?" Bellatrix replied, her voice hoarse from the fire of the firewhiskey.

Lily smiled knowingly. "About whatever it was that sent you on a bender."

"Well," Bellatrix said, trying to act cheerful and sound bright, but failing because of her hoarse voice, "my bookie owled me that my Quodpot team won, so I thought I'd use the winnings to treat myself."

Lily ignored the cheap humor and opted to be perceptive. Sparing a quick glance at the upended Pensieve on the floor, she looked at Bellatrix sympathetically. "That older version of you we all saw in the Pensieve was pretty ghastly, wasn't she?"

"Nothing that a few medical procedures could have prevented," Bellatrix said.

"I think we all know that I'm not talking about old age," Lily said.

"It would be quite a shock to see such a drastically different destiny or version of what could have been," Lily said. "The important thing is that you are not what you saw in the Pensieve and you don't have to become that, either."

"I know," Bellatrix said.

"So you agree?" Lily said.

"Yes," Bellatrix said, leaning back on the couch and closing her eyes.

"Oh," Lily said, briefly deterred in her moment of perception. She turned over the problem in her head while Bellatrix rested. Finally, she reached the answer. "You're afraid that Harry spent… his entire life knowing you as an awful Death Eater and that when he sees you in the here and now he still sees that same person."

Bellatrix made eye contact with Lily, the expression on her face seeming to convey her admission that Lily's perception was correct and that she appreciated the benefit of Lily's efforts, even if Bellatrix felt they were more akin to a dose of Skele-grow than anything else.

"Harry is a smart person," Lily said soothingly. "I am confident that he realizes there is a difference between you and anything you might have been or done in some alternate future."

"Obviously he knows I am not the same person," Bellatrix said, "but at some subconscious level, he must have some sort of… reflexive thoughts or feelings whenever he sees me. Some feelings just don't die away. One little misstep on my part could send him packing and into the arms of some other tramp. Or worse, he could just be using me spitefully."

Lily twisted her lips thoughtfully. "I think the best way forward in this situation is for you to spend more quality time with Harry."

"If I thought sleeping with each other was a complete solution, I would not be concerned," Bellatrix said.

Sidra snickered, and Lily promptly swatted her. "What I'm thinking, Bella, is that you two need to spend time together-go out to eat for fun, go see movies at the local cinema or plays in London. Attend some sporting events. Sit down and talk in your flat. Create happy memories that will override any older memories Harry might have your alternate self. Not only will this ensure that Harry knows you for who you are rather than what you might have been, but it will reassure you that things are all right in your relationship.

Bellatrix pursed her lips as she weighed Lily's suggestion. Finally, she made up her mind. "I will do precisely that. Now, you will have to excuse me. There are things that need doing. Sidra, check my appointment book."

"You said I could have the day off," Sidra protested.

"Too bad you did not leave well enough alone," Bellatrix observed.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Pansy Parkinson accepted her wand back from the guard at the Ministry's reception desk and made her way through the Ministry's main floor to the lift. A blank expression on her face, she stared at the sign near the lifts proclaiming the location of the various Ministry offices until a flirty young man came her way.

"Need help finding your way?" he inquired with his most charming smile.

Normally, Pansy would have evaluated the young wizard's looks and then treated him accordingly, but she was not in the best of spirits today. "I'm looking for Madam Black's office," she announced dully.

"That would be in the Wizengamot's wing," the young wizard said, explaining what floor that was and which way Pansy should take when she got off the lift. He had apparently noticed her mood and did not offer to escort her.

Satisfied, Pansy stepped onto the lift, followed her benefactor's instructions, and found herself in the reception area of Madam Black's suite. A familiar face from Hogwarts was there to greet her-the Potter brat.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked, outraged and slightly embarrassed.

"I work here," Sidra Potter said snippily. "Where's your father? I'm pretty sure my boss had him in mind when she had me owl the invitation."

"None of your business," Pansy growled. "Just tell your boss that I'm here to see her."

Sidra gave Pansy a dirty look, but turned, opened the door to Bellatrix Black's private office, and slipped through. In a few seconds, she exited the office. "She says you can sit down and amuse yourself while she finishes what she was doing," Sidra said.

"Maybe I will," Pansy, feeling quite aggravated, but strangely, more comfortable. Trading barbs with Sidra Potter had been a large part of her life over the past seven years, after all.

Pansy seated herself far away from Sidra's desk, crossed her legs, and struck a pose of deep thought and concentration so as to communicate to Sidra that she was thinking about something very important. In reality, she was. How was she going to weasel her family out of their situation?

Eventually, Sidra received the signal to show Pansy into the office. Bellatrix sat casually in an ornate chair behind an antique desk. Bellatrix nodded toward one of the chairs in front of the desk. Correctly interpreting the signal, Pansy seated herself in the chair as Sidra retreated from the office and shut the door behind her.

"Your father must be so brave," Bellatrix said in a low voice that carried hints of hoarseness.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, regretting the question as soon as it had left her mouth. She knew what Bellatrix meant and had fallen into the other woman's petty conversational trap. She felt a blush cover her face as she looked away.

Bellatrix steepled her fingers and peered at Pansy. "If your parents had spent more time raising you and less time gallivanting across the countryside with the Dark Lord, they might have found themselves the proud parents of a proper, pureblood scion. As it is, they are losing the war and have lost you, too."

"Did you summon me here to insult me?" Pansy snapped back. "I don't have to stand for that."

"Actually, I summoned your father here, and my insults are directed to him," Bellatrix clarified. "Admit it girl, your father is such a wimp that he had to send a teenage witch to shield him from me."

"My father isn't stupid!" Pansy hissed. "He knows which way the wind is blowing."

"Does he now?" Bellatrix inquired. "Tell me, which way is the wind blowing?"

"If he had come here today, you would have given him the choice of acceding to your requests or being sent to Azkaban," Pansy said, sounding very disgusted with Bellatrix. "And, if he had somehow found a way to walk out of the Ministry after refusing you, he would found your husband's personal squad of Aurors knocking at his door at midnight."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow and reached out to open a folder that had been sitting on your desk. "I am not an Auror who can arrest people, and I do not see any arrest orders for your father in his file."

"See!" Pansy said, pointing to the folder with a trembling finger, "the fact that you've had his file pulled is proof of your diabolical plans. And, if there is a file, there is probably enough suspicion over his head to have him arrested. It is only a matter of your husband deciding that my father is a person of interest. Well, guess what? My family is going into hiding. Your husband won't find them anywhere after today."

"Well," Bellatrix said slowly, "if your father is clever enough to divine my methods, perhaps he is also clever enough to understand what it is I want from him."

"Even I can figure that out," Pansy said. "You want his vote when you attempt to launch your coup against Minister Prewitt."

"Your powers of observation astound me."

"Well I have news for you, Madam Black," Pansy spat, "my father won't cast his Wizengamot vote in favor of a power mad, manipulative… bitch like yourself."

Bellatrix giggled softly. "Did your father really tell you to say that to me?"

Pansy's cheeks colored.

"I did not think so," Bellatrix said as her laughter subsided. "No, your father expected you to serve as my messenger. Did he not make that clear to you?"

"What are you saying?" Pansy asked.

"It seems your father is also aware of your woeful lack of education in politics and pureblood matters. He knew that you would not be able to bandy words with me. Your presence here today is the message he wished to send. Anything that crossed your lips in our conversation was extra. And now, I shall send you back with my answer. Tell your father that I will give him the opportunity to vote my way at the crucial moment and receive a measure of leniency if and when he and his fellow Death Eaters help bring this war to a satisfactory end when I signal them to do so."

Pansy's mouth dropped open, and she attempted to say something, but Bellatrix held up her hand.

"I am not interested in what you have to say. If your father does not like the idea, you can tell him that if the Dark Lord's defeat does not come about the easy way, my husband will have no choice but to cut down every last foot soldier on his way to striking down the Dark Lord."

Pansy tried to speak again, but Bellatrix stood up, produced a sealed letter from her sleeve, and handed it to Pansy. "Deliver that to your father."

"What makes you think my father will cooperate?" Pansy said rapidly managing to squeeze in a question before Bellatrix could cut her off.

"He is too much of a coward not to do so," Bellatrix answered simply.

Repeatedly, the scenes Harry had seen in Voldemort's mind flashed before Harry's eyes as Harry slept. As unpleasant as the dreams were, Harry was still eager for any information that might lead him to discovering the nature and location of the final horcrux. He focused intently on everything, but was frustrated as the dreams moved too quickly and with too scant detail. And then, there was every reason to believe that his dreams were not a completely accurate reflection of what he had seen. After all, they were dreams.

Before Harry had the opportunity to really learn anything he did not know, sleep fled from him, and Harry's senses were suddenly reminded that he was sleeping in his bed. He sighed and rolled over, trying to deny that it was time to wake up and letting himself be fooled into believing that his morning fuzziness was a good enough sleep substitute.

Eventually, a delicious aroma emanating from the direction of the kitchen pierced through Harry's reluctance to start his day. After a stop at the bathroom for a quick shower, Harry dressed and made his way through the flat to the kitchen and discovered that Bellatrix had ordered takeout. This was not unusual-anytime that Bellatrix was in charge of a meal, she went for frozen or takeout. But this time, she had invested time into formally setting the table and serving the food on their own dinnerware.

"What gives?" Harry said curiously as he slipped into his usual seat at the table.

"I thought it would be nice if we had a little bit of a date night," Bellatrix said brightly, coming over and giving Harry a quick kiss.

Instantly, Harry's senses were on high alert, but he opted not to ask any questions-he doubted that she would give him any straightforward answers.

Taking her chair, Bellatrix picked up a fork and began outlining the agenda as she and Harry ate. "As soon as we finish dinner, we will attend a Muggle cinema. Afterward, we will Apparate to a nice park and walk together, ending with a visit to an ice cream shop."

"You do realize that I have a job, don't you?" Harry said, enjoying the meal despite his trepidation.

Bellatrix scowled as she picked up a glass of water. "You will have plenty of time to go to your job."

"Oh good," Harry said, daring to wink flirtatiously, "because I really like my job."

Bellatrix ignored the joke and pushed forward with conversation unrelated to Harry's job. "Have you ever thought about our future-you know, what we might be doing after the war? For instance, where we might want to live?"

Harry shrugged and grinned at her mischievously. "I was thinking we'd just keep living here. We could kick out the tenants in the shops below us and convert the place into some sort of inner city mansion."

"It would be the tackiest place in the neighborhood, Harry," Bellatrix said.

"You're not going to call me a dimwit?"

"Not during our date night, anyway," Bellatrix said.

"I think I like date night," Harry mused as he speared a potato slice with his fork. "Can we do this more often? Like every night?"

"It wouldn't be a special occasion if we did it every night," Bellatrix pointed out. "Besides, there is your job to consider."

"I will probably get laid off after the war," Harry predicted. "So maybe we should set a weekly date night, and I will be content to suffer the inconvenience of romancing you on the same nights I go to work until I can be unemployed."

"I would not feel comfortable forcing you to make such a drastic sacrifice," Bellatrix countered, "but if you insist, I suppose we could have another date night next week."

"Or sooner," Harry amended, a playful smile on his face. "I mean, if we're free tomorrow night, we should probably take advantage of it. You never know what could come up."

Bellatrix put a thoughtful expression on her face as she chewed. After an extended pause, she swallowed and announced the verdict "I think we'll have to see how this date night goes. Now eat faster, or we will be late for the movie."

Despite the movie being a shameless chick flick and the theater being filled with giggly girls and only the occasional dating couple, Harry enjoyed the movie far more than Bellatrix did, though Bellatrix did find other avenues of entertainment. Bellatrix's amusements embarrassed Harry more than anything else, but he did roar with laughter when a teenaged girl who had been unabashedly talking during the movie shrieked as the icy contents of Bellatrix's drink found their way into the collar of her shirt and from there down into her pants.

As soon as the credits began rolling, Bellatrix grabbed Harry's hand and, in the darkened back of the theater, double-apparated him away to a nice city park with a long walking path. As they walked, they talked, and soon, Bellatrix turned the conversation back to the future.

"I think it would be wonderful to rebuild Ravenbourgh," Bellatrix told Harry. "We have plenty of gold, and my investments will soon be bringing in good returns."

"What would two people do with a really big house like that?" Harry asked.

"We would have one or two children, maybe," Bellatrix suggested.

"So, four people in a really big house," Harry said, indicating that he still thought Ravenbourgh would be excessive.

"We could invite Sirius and Leo to live with us," Bellatrix hypothesized, "or any Blacks in general. After all, it would be the ancestral home. I lived with my aunt and uncle in Grimmauld Place often."

Harry appeared to be in deep thought. "I know how we could get more people to live with us! We could convince Leo and Rose to elope and then give them sanctuary."

"Your mother would strangle you dead," Bellatrix said as they happened upon an ice cream vendor and purchased cones. Slowly, the made their way to a park bench and sat down.

"It would be too tame anyway," Harry said, returning to the elopement conversation. "I think everybody knows that those two will get married. It would be funnier to convince Sidra to elope. Now, who is a guy we both really hate?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Deciding that she had eaten enough ice cream, she tossed the remainder of the cone to the geese gathered nearby, produced a self-inking quill, and began sketching on the napkin. "We would not have to rebuild Ravenbourgh as it was originally," she told Harry. "It can have a slightly more modest size."

"Can it have a Quidditch pitch?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"All right. Build it, and I will come."

Later that night, Harry cheerfully made his way into the DMLE suites and found Amelia in her office, poring over maps of Britain and lists of potential targets for their Auror squad. Harry took a seat and leaned back. "Got anybody special in mind?" he asked.

"Not really," Amelia said. "What about you?"

"Nope," Harry said.

"Oh."

Amelia returned to studying the papers on her desk. "What about the Parkinsons?" she asked casually.

"Isn't he on the Wizengamot," Harry asked.

"For the time being," Amelia said. "If we were to discover that he is a Death Eater and get him convicted for any crimes, he would of course be dropped from the Wizengamot."

"Yes, but I was hoping that as a general matter we would try to avoid the Wizengamot members who don't make a habit of being too much of a public nuisance," Harry said. "They could be more useful later on. You know, if we happen to need high-profile arrests or some sort of leverage over other Death Eaters."

"I see," Amelia said casually. "Tell me, does your wife ever suggest potential targets for our squad?"

Harry shook his head. "We don't really talk about my job here that much."

"Interesting," Amelia sighed, looking away from the maps and staring blankly at a framed painting on one of her walls. "I bet your wife is really good at chess."

Harry smiled as he thought about that comment. "I used to play chess with one of my schoolmates. It never occurred to me to try it with Bella. Maybe I'll go buy a set."

"You do that," Amelia said drily. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"Can we do dark artifact raids even if we don't have a lot of evidence that a family has a Death Eater member?" Harry asked, thinking back to how the phantom horcrux had previously been located in Walburga Black's residence.

"I suppose we could," Amelia mused, "though we'd have to do a little bit of legwork to establish suspicion for each house we want to raid."

"Let's try some of that tonight-or at least get the groundwork going," Harry decided. "Death Eater raids have decreased, and we've been finding fewer and fewer Death Eaters at home. Right now, I think our priority should be recovering one of the Dark Lord's magical objects that I've probably mentioned to you before."

Probably because he returned from work earlier than normal, Harry found Bellatrix in the living room and still awake when he returned home. Somehow, she had obtained maps of the Ravenbourgh property as well as some old designs of the original manor. Harry was not particularly interested in discussing Ravenbourgh, but he plopped down on the couch next to Bellatrix where he could watch her consider the options for Ravenbourgh's future.

"I think the original manor was a little too old-fashioned," Bellatrix said to Harry by way of greeting. "Once we eliminate the stone walls, the size of the manor shrinks considerably without losing any of the living space of the original."

"Okay," Harry said, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and luxuriating in the comfort. "You do realize, though, don't you, that if you have this thing built while the war is still going on, it is likely to become a target?"

"The war will end well before we need to actually bring in on-site construction crews, though I wonder if it would help to start clearing away the old rubble sooner than later," Bellatrix mused.

"Whatever you think is best," Harry mumbled, feeling a little sleepy and thus relishing the feeling of sitting on a nice couch with his eyes closed listening to the rustling of Bellatrix's parchment.

Harry had nearly dozed off when Bellatrix abandoned her sheets of parchment and cuddled up next to him. She kissed him, and he sleepily reciprocated.

Harry woke up alone on the couch the next morning. Assuming that Bellatrix had gone into work, Harry summoned Kreacher. "Find Rose Potter and Leo Black," Harry requested as he yawned widely. "Discreetly tell them that they're invited to a little meeting I am going to hold with Professor Dumbledore. They can meet me at Hogwarts in about half an hour."

"Yes, master," Kreacher said before disappearing.

Swiftly, Harry went through an abbreviated version of his morning ablutions and found something to eat in the kitchen. Once he was satisfied that he was prepared for an outing, he went to one of the cupboards in the kitchen, cancelled the magical locks on it, grabbed the vial inside, and used his phoenix fire spell to instantly transport him to the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry was not surprised to see that Rose and Leo were already waiting there for him. "It never ceases to amaze me how it is that you two are able to get away from whatever you're doing whenever I call."

"I'm usually with Rose anyway," Leo admitted.

"I see," Harry said as he led the two teens toward the castle's entrance.

"Do you already have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore?" Rose asked.

"No," Harry admitted. "But, I think he'll be willing to drop whatever he's doing for me."

"What if he isn't here today?" Rose asked.

Harry shrugged. "I think we'll be able to do what I was hoping to do anyway if the Room of Requirement cooperates."

"What is it we're doing, then?" Rose asked, being persistent.

"Attempting to identify the final horcrux," Harry said as they all entered the castle. "Once we know what and where it is, we should be able to begin planning the Dark Lord's funeral."

"You want me to use my Seer powers," Rose observed.

Harry nodded. "That is one optional part of the strategy." He withdrew the vial from one of his pockets. "I am going to share my memories of what I saw when I invaded the Dark Lord's mind. Perhaps then, we can all discuss what I saw. And, perhaps you, Rose, can use that as fodder to have some sort of vision."

With a strange expression on her face, Rose stared at the vial. "Wait, is that the same vial you put all your Pensieve memories into?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Oh," Rose said sounding a bit apprehensive, "okay."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"Shouldn't you be showing this to your wife and Hermione, too?" Leo asked.

"Bella feels that she has done all she can on the horcrux front," Harry said. "As for Hermione, I am guessing that we will find her here already."

Harry proved to be correct, for when they were admitted to Professor Dumbledore's office, they found that Professor Dumbledore and Hermione had been discussing some magical theorems as part of Hermione's post-Hogwarts education. Despite the interruption, both Dumbledore and Hermione were eager to assist Harry.

Dumbledore quickly produced the Pensieve. Harry uncapped the vial and poured the contents into the Pensieve. Rather than swirl around, however, the contents of the vial disappeared.

"Is this supposed to happen?" Harry asked, looking at the Pensieve.

"You must have gotten the wrong vial," Dumbledore said, frowning.

"No," Harry said slowly as he looked into the vial and then back toward the Pensieve, "this is the correct vial."

"Maybe somebody stole it," Rose suggested in a very small voice.

Harry shook his head. "Impossible. My flat is very well-warded-especially after Bellatrix started storing the horcruxes we've found."

"Well, maybe Bellatrix borrowed your memories," Leo suggested.

Rose gave Leo a distressed glance.

"Bellatrix… ," Harry said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes as his thoughts raced.

"Do you think it was her?" Hermione asked.

Harry suddenly smiled. "Of course it was her. That would explain a lot."

"Explain what?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Her behavior," Harry said.

"Did you have any secrets you were trying to keep from her?" Dumbledore asked swiftly, his blue eyes staring intently into Harry's green eyes.

Harry shrugged. "I was hoping to spare her from having to know certain things about my future. There is no harm done to anybody but us"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Rose asked.

"Milk it for all it is worth," Harry declared vaguely as he pulled his wand. He glanced at Professor Dumbledore. "I assume that I can just repeat the same basic process for getting the memory I want to show you."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed.

Harry used his wand to withdraw the memory from his head and placed it in the Pensieve. At his signal, the group entered the Pensieve. To their dismay, they discovered that viewing the memory of what amounted to Harry's thoughts was very difficult. Although they were clearly in the memory, the colors swirling around refused to form into anything anybody could recognize. The sound was a little bit better, but still, nobody could make out any real words.

"How were you able to identify the horcrux in the Ministry and the snake through all of this?" Leo asked.

"I saw more than this," Harry said slowly as he spun around and tried to get his bearings.

"There are some things that just do not translate into a Pensieve," Dumbledore observed, also seeming disappointed.

"I guess we'll have to think of something else," Harry sighed.

"Let's not give up so quickly," Hermione said. "Harry, are you able to remember what it is we are supposed to be looking at?"

"Mostly," Harry said. He swished his wand and their surroundings shifted and stopped. "This is where I started looking to find the horcrux. The Dark Lord and some Death Eaters are in a room together. The original form of the horcrux is here in the room."

"Well, let's go through the memory, then," Hermione said. "Stop it when the scene, as it were, ends."

They played through the memory nearly two dozen times as Harry tried to match parts of the memory to the details he could remember and then explain it to them. Eventually, they honed onto the exact moment that Voldemort had transferred a portion of his soul from one horcrux to another.

"This is hopeless," Harry finally declared, pausing the memory.

"I am afraid that I must concur," Dumbledore said after a moment.

"Perhaps we have been focusing too much on what we can see with our eyes," Rose said, stepping closer to Dumbledore and Harry. Start the memory again and let me try some things. Replay it every time it reaches the end."

Dumbledore shrugged, and Harry nodded as he swished his wand. Rose stood in the center of the memory scene and closed her eyes. For the next hour, the group watched as Rose stood silently with her eyes closed while Harry played the memory repeatedly.

Harry was ready to quit when Rose suddenly spoke for the first time since she had closed her eyes. "Stop the memory now!"

"Do you see something?" Leo asked.

"In a way," Rose said, obviously trying to sound mysterious.

"Then do explain," Harry said tiredly.

"Is this not the exact moment that the horcrux changes hosts?" Rose asked.

"Yes, we established that already," Hermione said, sounding very exasperated.

"I had no way of knowing that," Rose defended. "I was focused on my inner-eye."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, sounding very convinced.

"Just tell us what you saw," Harry cut in.

"It's not the same as actually seeing," Rose tried to explain.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said sternly.

Rose sighed. "I think that the horcrux is now in one of the Death Eaters."

"Is that even possible?" Harry wondered.

"Of course it is!" Hermione said. "You have already seen that one of the horcruxes is in the snake."

Harry shrugged. "I thought it would be easier if you were dealing with a familiar. I mean, it isn't as if a snake is the same as a completely different wizard or witch."

"Seem like a brilliant idea to me," Leo offered. "It's hard to catch a horcrux if it can run away and fight back."

"I suppose so," Harry said dubiously. "But, it seems to me that it would be safer to keep portions of your soul in objects that you can lock away without having to worry about it running away or deciding it needs to nip out for a drink or something."

"And still, the inanimate object strategy does not seem to be working for You-Know-Who, does it?" Leo snickered.

Dumbledore spoke up. "Can you be completely sure that the horcrux now resides in a Death Eater, Miss Potter?"

"Yes."

"But which Death Eater would You-Know-Who trust to be the horcrux?" Hermione wondered.

"Or what Death Eater could possibly be that dedicated?" Leo said, turning the question around.

Lily plunked the final serving dish for dinner on the table as her husband and two youngest children looked on eagerly. She sat down, and the family was just about to begin when the front door opened to admit Sidra.

"You're just in time," James said, smiling at his oldest daughter.

"I'm so exhausted," Sidra complained as she kicked off her Muggle-style heels and joined the rest of the family at the table. "That witch is out of her mind! She never stops."

"Well, she is younger than you," Rose snickered.

Sidra grabbed her fork and pointed it at Rose. "Don't you dare bring that up."

"She already did, dear," Lily said, grabbing the pea bowl, scooping some peas onto her plate, and passing the bowl on to her son who furtively passed it onto the next person without partaking.

"What did you and Bellatrix do today?" James asked.

"She started the morning furthering her political machinations by meeting with more shady Wizengamot members," Sidra commented as she helped herself to some potatoes. "Then, for lunch we went out to some Muggle clothes shop so that Bellatrix could buy more Muggle clothes. Then we went to a restaurant, ordered, and she went in to the restroom to change. When she came out, she announced we'd be taking our food to go, and I had to eat from a take-home container while we visited Muggle real estate brokers and bankers."

"Some of the Order members have speculated that she might be angling to replace Minister Prewitt," Lily said as she held her spoon absentmindedly.

"Sounds like she's too busy building the Black fortune," James said drily as he waited for a food dish to come his way.

"Minister of Magic? Her?" Sidra said, sounding outraged. "She's younger than me! And she didn't even finish Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake!"

""We're not supposed to mention that!" Rose said gruffly.

"Shut up!" Sidra barked.

"Calm yourselves," James sighed as he poked at the meat platter with a fork before choosing a slice to move to his plate. "Did anyone else do something interesting today?"

"I helped Harry find the location of the final horcrux," Rose said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, where is it?" Lily said, sounding very interested.

"I can't say for sure," Rose admitted. "But we made significant progress. And you might be interested to know that Harry found out about Bellatrix stealing his memories."

"How did he take that?" Lily asked.

Rose shrugged. "He didn't seem overly concerned."

"Harry must be a saint," Lily mused, finally using her spoon to begin eating. "John? Anything interesting for you?"

"I ate a chocolate frog and found my first Harry Ashworth Black card!" John volunteered.

"Whoopee," Sidra said grouchily.

Amelia Bones paced back and forth in the small private dining room that the barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron had made available for her use. Seated at the dining table were a number of her most influential political allies.

"Can't we start already?" Amos Diggory sighed, clearly not excited to be present.

"It isn't good to be out so late," Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed, glancing significantly at the clock. "And, in a public place, no less."

"Just a few more moments," Amelia said, continuing to pace as her thoughts roiled. "I'm sure he'll show up."

Amelia's prediction proved true, for the door opened abruptly to admit Andrew Foxe. "Sorry that I'm late," he said brightly as Amelia shut the door behind him.

Diggory rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Where is Edward?" Amelia asked, frowning slightly.

"He doesn't generally leave his office these days," Andrew said. "It wasn't until I returned from my diplomatic post that I realized how reclusive he has become."

"It seems like a wise lifestyle to me," Kingsley Shacklebolt commented. "As the Head of the Department of Mysteries, he surely is a high-profile target. He knows things that You-Know-Who would surely want to know. And, as the most senior Department Head, he becomes Acting Minister if Prewitt becomes incapacitated."

"Yes, quite," Andrew said, not quite making eye contact with Kingsley as he made his way to the table and took a seat among Amelia's half dozen or so political allies.

"Let's get down to business," Diggory insisted.

"Fine," Amelia said. However, instead of sitting down at the table, she merely altered the path of her pacing. "I have recently discovered direct evidence that Bellatrix Black is planning a coup at the Ministry. I believe she intends to buy the votes of Death Eater Wizengamot members with promises of clemency after the war."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "So, what? If the Dark Lord's followers betray him and help install Madam Black as Minister, the war likely ends and we have an extremely virile Minister who is likely to outlive all of them. She'll be there to enforce the bargain and keep them in line."

"Coups are not a good idea during a war," Kingsley commented, sounding concerned.

"Prewitt is getting old, though," another of those present commented. "Is there any heir apparent?"

"Crouch," Amelia said.

The silence that permeated the room served as a good commentary as to what those present thought about Crouch being Minister.

"So really, we should be thinking about a potential replacement for Prewitt anyway," another present observed. "That is, if we don't want a Minister Crouch."

"I've counted the votes," Amelia announced. "Crouch is the heir apparent, but in fact, Madam Black seems to have enough to block him, even if she doesn't have enough to install herself. That leaves us and those we usually are able to influence to be the so-called independents and choose the lesser of two evils."

"All right," Andrew said, spreading his hands innocently. "Let us consider the two 'evils.' On one side, we have Barty Crouch, who has been working his way up the ladder for his entire career. He has his enemies and… enemies. As head of the DMLE, he is essentially the Ministry's field marshal in this war. His rhetoric shows that he vehemently opposes the Dark Lord, but in practice, he seems to be a gutless weenie. He hasn't lost the Ministry a lot of ground, but he sure hasn't gained any. His views and practices are narrow, and he is incapable of developing new strategies."

"Andrew, I think we already get the picture," Amelia sighed.

"Fine," Andrew said. "Now, what's the other evil? Bellatrix Black-also adamantly opposed to the Dark Lord."

"Really?" one of Amelia's friends called out. "She's actually just a mercenary. Somehow, Harry Black managed to buy her off."

"Exactly!" Andrew said, grinning. "She's a mercenary who had been paid to adamantly oppose the Dark Lord. You pay her with money, power, and prestige, and she will get you results. Since joining the Wizengamot, she's done more than some have done while sitting on it for decades."

"Aside from my concerns about hiring a 'mercenary' to be Minister, there is the fact that Madam Black seems remarkably immature and unseasoned," Diggory commented.

"Oh, please," Andrew said, "she's got to be at least forty years old by now."

"Well Andrew, I do see potential in Madam Black," Amelia admitted. "But," she said, holding up her hand to forestall Andrew from commenting, "it is yet undeveloped. If Madam Black continues to participate in the Wizengamot and perhaps even takes up a Ministry position, she could be well qualified to serve as Minister in about ten or fifteen years."

Andrew arched an eyebrow. "Are you voting for Crouch, then? Because I don't think anybody else here is going to join you."

"Not at all," Amelia said smoothly. "I propose that we select our own candidate. Then, we can try to solicit votes from either Crouch's camp or Black's camp by promising high Ministry positions."

"Very clever," Kingsley sighed.

"What?" Diggory asked.

"Amelia thinks that she should be Minister," Andrew said for those who had not picked up on Amelia's subtleties. "I imagine she thinks she can get Madam Black to help her if Amelia promises Madam Black that she can be heir apparent."

"I'm certainly more qualified than Madam Black," Amelia said defensively.

"Isn't this all hypothetical?" another person in the room demanded. "I mean, if Madam Black doesn't have enough votes to make herself Minister outright, and if Prewitt isn't about to retire, what's the point of all this rigmarole?"

"Well, we have to be prepared," Amelia said. "I think big changes are coming to our country. Harry Black is likely to defeat the Dark Lord."

Andrew Foxe jumped on that. "Then why don't we throw our support behind Harry Black to be Minister?"

"How about we just not worry about it!" one witch said grouchily. "I don't foresee any power changing hands anytime soon. Amelia, if something does happen, you can count on our support for you or for whomever you wish to nominate. I'll leave it to you to round up votes from the Black or Crouch camp. As for me, I'm going home."

Most of those present murmured their agreement, and before Amelia could say anything else, the meeting had adjourned.

The question of the final horcrux still buzzed faintly in the back of Harry's mind, but he was too busy thinking about his marriage to focus on it. When he had come home from Hogwarts and some of the extra errands he had run afterward, he had discovered that Bellatrix had sent out for an early dinner. Over that dinner, he and Bellatrix had talked a lot-or rather, Bellatrix had talked a lot. Her topic had been the future. Harry had responded agreeably and contributed to the conversation, knowing that it had been inspired by whatever she had seen in the Pensieve.

As much as Harry had enjoyed the topics they had discussed, it had also saddened him somewhat. When she had talked about making Ravenbourgh a little smaller, like Harry had wanted, or when she had casually hinted in so many words that Harry could have as many children as he wanted when Harry knew full well that she originally had not wanted very many, was she trying solicit Harry's love? Or was she sweetening the deal of what she viewed as an essential business partnership?

The former alternative made Harry feel guilty, for he thought he had shown her love, and he hated to see her beg for it. The latter also depressed Harry. He hoped that it was the former, though he knew that her nature made the latter more likely. Maybe he could do better. He could reassure her by doing spontaneous things, perhaps. Like the surprise dinner tactic that she was already employing.

After dinner they had retired to bed. Harry was now lying on his side with Bellatrix spooning him from the back, her right arm wrapped tightly around his torso as she slept and Harry thought. Eventually he used a bit of wandless magic to shut off the lights and drifted asleep.

After several hours, nightmares of Harry's past began creeping into his head. It felt like one of the dreams of Voldemort's thoughts with which Harry was overly familiar, but it was different-the scenes playing in his head were of his own future, a future that this future's Voldemort could know nothing about.

For some reason, memories of the Triwizard Tournament were prominent in his head. Although the third task had been the only truly miserable part of the whole thing, Harry had never enjoyed looking back on the Tournament because of the shadow Cedric Diggory's death had cast upon the entire thing.

Dreamily sighing at his stupidity, Harry watched as the Alastor Moody imposter hauled him into the castle after Harry had escaped from the graveyard. And then, Harry knew the answer. Harry gasped and begin to hyperventilate, eventually waking himself as he shot upright in bed despite Bellatrix's firm grip around his middle.

Cursing at himself angrily, Harry hopped out of bed and began dressing.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked sleepily, sitting up and looking unusually innocent and adorable with her state of undress and mussed hair.

"The horcrux," Harry said. "It's in Crouch!"

"Wait, Director Crouch?" Bellatrix asked.

"No, his son!" Harry said as he put one of his feet into his best dragonhide boots and stomped to settle his foot in it.

"Fortunately, he's in Azkaban," Bellatrix pointed out.

"No, no, no!" Harry said, stomping to get the other boot on his other foot. "It is not fortunate! It's a disaster! Don't you realize that half the reason they put so many guards at Azkaban is that they are trying to keep Tom away from the Dementors?" Cursing, Harry ran out of the room and began rummaging through the supplies in the spare bedroom.

Bellatrix yawned. "I knew I was doing the right thing by not voting to send him to Azkaban."