Chapter 12

The morning sun bathed the Tonks' cozy kitchen in warm light, casting a glow that made everything feel deceptively peaceful. Andromeda Tonks sat at the table, sipping her tea, when an elegant owl swooped through the open window, landing squarely in front of her. The envelope it carried bore the unmistakable crest of the Malfoy family, and Andromeda's heart sank like a stone.

"Great, just what I needed," she muttered to herself, setting down her cup. "Drama with a side of blackmail."

With a sigh, she untied the letter, her hands trembling slightly as she broke the wax seal. The neat, elegant handwriting of her sister, Narcissa Malfoy, stared back at her, but this time it wasn't the usual snooty formality. No, this letter practically screamed desperation.

My Dearest Andromeda,

I write to you with a heavy heart and an earnest plea for help. As you know, my marriage to Lucius was not of my own choosing. It was arranged by our father, enforced by a magically binding contract that only the head of House Black can release.

The years have been long and difficult, marked by cruelty and manipulation. Lucius has used the contract to control me, to ensure that I cannot escape the confines of our marriage. I can no longer endure the darkness. I cannot bear to see Draco grow up in such a toxic environment.

I beg you, Andy, please help me. I cannot do this alone.

Yours, with hope,

Cissy

Andromeda read the letter twice, her mind spinning. Cissy, asking for help? She never thought she'd live to see the day. Narcissa was always so prim and proper, so controlled. But there it was, in black and white: her little sister was trapped in a nightmare. And it was all because of that stupid ancient family magic and their even stupider traditions.

"Well, Cissy, you've come to the right place for breaking the rules," Andromeda muttered, folding the letter. If there was one thing she'd mastered over the years, it was ignoring Black family nonsense.

But she couldn't do this alone. Andromeda might be clever, but taking on Lucius Malfoy? That required backup. Luckily, she knew just the person. Grabbing her quill, she scribbled a note to her cousin, Sirius Black, who was staying with Amelia Bones, and sent it off with her owl.

By mid-afternoon, the familiar sound of Sirius's motorcycle roaring into her driveway let her know that help had arrived. He strolled in like he owned the place—classic Sirius—with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder and a cheeky grin.

"Andy, what's going on? You sounded pretty urgent in that note. Need me to hex someone?" Sirius greeted her with a hug, but the concern in his eyes was real.

Andromeda handed him the letter. "Just read this."

Sirius's grin faded fast as he read Narcissa's plea. By the time he finished, his jaw was clenched, and the playful spark in his eyes had been replaced by a dangerous gleam. "Lucius is even worse than I thought," he growled. "We've got to get her out of there."

"Well, yeah, that's the idea," Andromeda replied, pacing the room. "But it's not exactly easy. Lucius has too much power. He's got ties to the Ministry, not to mention the Death Eaters. If we make one wrong move, he'll have us for breakfast."

Sirius slumped onto the sofa, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, we can't just walk in there and tell him to shove it. We'll need leverage—something that'll force his hand."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "Leverage? You think he has some dirty secret he hasn't used up by now?"

Sirius smirked. "Everybody's got secrets, Andy. And trust me, Lucius is hiding something. We just have to find it."

"Well, we don't have much time to go on a scavenger hunt," Andromeda pointed out. "If Cissy stays in that house much longer, she might not survive, and Draco—Merlin, he's just a kid."

Sirius stood, a determined glint in his eye. "Then we get help. Amelia Bones is solid. If we can get her on our side, we'll have the legal muscle. And Mad-Eye Moody can help us navigate the darker stuff. If anyone knows how to get around these magical contracts, it's him."

Andromeda nodded. Amelia and Moody were probably their best shot at outmaneuvering Lucius, but even that felt like a long shot. "We need to move fast. I'll send a message to Amelia. Hopefully, she'll agree to help us."

Sirius grinned again, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. "Don't worry, Andy. We've got this. Malfoy may think he's invincible, but everyone falls eventually. We'll just make sure he lands face-first."

Despite the heavy situation, Andromeda couldn't help but smile. Sirius always did have a flair for the dramatic. But underneath all that bravado, she knew he was right. They had a chance, slim though it might be.

As she wrote the note to Amelia, one more chilling thought crossed her mind. If Cissy was trapped in this marriage because of an ancient contract, what about Bellatrix? Had she been bound by the same archaic magic, trapped in her own nightmare?

Andromeda shuddered. One sister was more than enough to save. Bellatrix would have to wait.

—

Andromeda had never seen her living room so full of intense, determined faces. Amelia Bones, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood like a trio of superheroes about to embark on a high-stakes mission. And given the situation, they practically were.

She wasted no time diving into the issue. "Narcissa needs help," she said, her voice steady but urgent. "Lucius has been using a magically binding contract to keep her trapped in their marriage. It's not just her life at stake—it's Draco's future too."

Amelia leaned forward, her brow furrowing. "This is big," she said, as if that weren't obvious. "If Lucius really has been using dark magic to enforce this, we're talking about serious legal consequences. The Ministry won't take kindly to this."

"Yeah, assuming the Ministry actually decides to do the right thing for once," Moody grumbled, his magical eye swiveling to take in every corner of the room, because of course, he never stopped looking for trouble. "We need evidence. Without it, we've got nothing but accusations."

Kingsley, ever the calm and collected one, gave a thoughtful nod. "I've got a few contacts in the Ministry," he said, voice smooth as honey. "I can sniff around, see if anyone knows what Lucius has been up to lately. He's too powerful to have a spotless record."

Andromeda exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She had expected resistance or skepticism, but here they were, ready to throw themselves into this mess to help her sister. Her eyes softened with gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "This means everything."

Amelia squeezed her shoulder. "We'll get her out, Andromeda. We won't let Lucius win this one."

Andromeda hesitated for a second, then added, "There's something else. If Narcissa is trapped by a magical contract... it's possible Bellatrix is too." Yeah, she was dropping that bomb on the group. The room seemed to get ten degrees colder.

Amelia's face went from "concerned" to "all business" in a heartbeat. "If Cygnus Black forced his daughters into magical contracts, we need to know. And we need to move fast."

Moody's eyebrow shot up like he was surprised by exactly nothing. "Sirius, you're the head of the Black family now," he said with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. "That means you can go to Gringotts and get your hands on those contracts. Find out what we're dealing with. If we can figure out how these contracts work, maybe we can break them."

Sirius grinned like a kid who just got handed a new Firebolt. "You bet I will. Gringotts loves me. They've only thrown me out once or twice," he said with a wink. Then, more seriously, he turned to Andromeda. "We'll get Cissy and Bella out. I promise."

For the first time all day, Andromeda felt a flicker of hope. It was still buried under layers of dread and worry, but it was there. "Thank you, Sirius," she said, voice cracking a little.

With the plan taking shape, the group sat back, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Kingsley was probably planning who to blackmail for info, Moody was already looking like he was going to start digging through Lucius's trash, and Sirius—well, he was itching to raise some hell.

This was just the beginning, but Andromeda knew one thing: Lucius Malfoy had no idea what kind of storm was coming his way.

—

Sirius and Andromeda trudged through Diagon Alley, weaving through the crowd like they were on some covert mission, which, to be fair, they kind of were. Gringotts loomed ahead, all big, white, and intimidating—like an overgrown marble security guard daring them to ask about family drama. Sirius glanced sideways at Andromeda, who looked about as thrilled as someone getting dragged to a family reunion.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Inside, the grand hall of Gringotts was all chandeliers and polished floors, goblins scuttling around with the efficiency of people who have dealt with wizards' nonsense for centuries. Sirius approached a nearby goblin teller, feeling the weight of the moment like the time he tried to ask out Marlene McKinnon back at Hogwarts.

"Uh, hey," he started, clearing his throat. "Sirius Black. Head of the Black family. I need some information about contracts involving Narcissa and Bellatrix Black."

The goblin raised an eyebrow—probably used to this kind of thing, or maybe just unimpressed with Sirius' attempt to sound all official. "Wait here," the goblin grumbled, then vanished behind some mysterious goblin door, leaving Sirius and Andromeda standing there like they were in line at the DMV.

"Do you think they know how to make the whole process more dramatic, or does it just come naturally to them?" Sirius whispered, trying to lighten the tension.

Andromeda snorted, a small smile playing on her lips. "They probably take a course on it."

Finally, after what felt like hours (but was probably just five minutes—goblins aren't that slow), the teller returned with a scroll so old it might as well have been written by Merlin himself.

"Here you are," the goblin said, sliding the scroll towards Sirius with all the enthusiasm of a history professor handing out pop quizzes. "Feel free to take your time."

"Thanks," Sirius replied, feeling like he was about to open Pandora's box, or worse—an Ancient Runes homework assignment.

Unfurling the scroll, Sirius scanned the text, his brow furrowing in concentration. The writing was old-fashioned, but unmistakable. Narcissa and Bellatrix's names stood out like beacons among the labyrinth of legal jargon.

"Found it," he muttered, pointing out the passage to Andromeda.

She leaned in, her eyes widening as she read. "Magically binding contracts. Of course, Dad would've gone for something this controlling." She shook her head, her voice dripping with frustration. "This is why we can't have nice things."

But as Sirius continued reading, his expression shifted, a small grin creeping across his face. "Wait… look at this." He tapped the parchment, the grin turning into something more triumphant. "These contracts were enforced by the head of the family, but that authority ended when he died."

Andromeda blinked. "So…"

"So," Sirius continued, practically bouncing on his feet now, "as the new head of the family, I have the power to challenge these contracts. Meaning, Narcissa and Bellatrix aren't stuck forever."

Andromeda's eyes widened, the spark of hope reigniting. "You're telling me we can break them?"

"Yup," Sirius said, grinning like a kid who just discovered chocolate frogs were buy-one-get-one-free. "The contracts are as good as gone if we play this right."

Andromeda let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "That's brilliant!" she exclaimed, her earlier tension finally easing. "So, what's next?"

"Well," Sirius began, leaning against the nearest pillar with what he probably thought was casual charm, "we'll need evidence that these contracts were forced on them. Narcissa's tricky—anything we do could tip off Lucius. But Bellatrix… she's in Azkaban. We can dig around her trial without raising too many eyebrows."

Andromeda nodded, her mind already racing. "If we can get Amelia to start an inquiry into Bellatrix's trial, maybe we can uncover something about these contracts without drawing too much attention."

"Exactly," Sirius agreed. "We'll hit them from the legal side, and if we find anything fishy, we'll free both of them from this mess Dad put them in."

Andromeda's expression softened, a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. "I can't believe we might actually pull this off."

Sirius gave her a cocky grin. "Come on, Andi. You're talking to a Marauder. We specialize in pulling off the impossible."

And with that, they left Gringotts, heads held high and ready to take on whatever came next. As Sirius mentally mapped out their next steps, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The plan was in motion, and for once, it felt like things might actually go their way.

Now all they had to do was outsmart a dead father's magic contracts, free two sisters, and maybe not get cursed along the way. Easy.

—

Azkaban. The place where happiness goes to die and where even the walls seem to be plotting your demise. Bellatrix Lestrange, once the terror of the wizarding world, sat on a cold, crumbling bench, looking more like a wet cat than a fearsome Death Eater. Honestly, this wasn't how she'd imagined her retirement.

As she sat there, a twisted smile creeping onto her face, she reflected on her life. Yeah, okay, she'd done some bad things—like, really bad. But it wasn't all her fault, right? She had her reasons! Her family was like the pureblood version of a soap opera gone terribly wrong. Her father, Cygnus Black, had bound her and Narcissa into a magically airtight contract that made even a goblin lawyer seem friendly. Thanks, Dad.

And it all started with Andromeda. Ah, sweet, rebellious Andromeda. Bellatrix could still picture her little sister's defiant smirk as she eloped with a Muggle-born. Talk about family drama. That one move set off a chain reaction of over-the-top rage from their father, who decided the best way to keep control over the rest of them was by signing away their free will with a magical contract. How dramatic. Cygnus was a classic overreactor—he probably grounded them for sneezing too loudly.

Then came Rodolphus, the human version of a bad hangover. Their marriage was less a match made in heaven and more a lifelong sentence to the wizarding world's worst reality show. He was cruel, controlling, and took "Death Eater" way too seriously. Bellatrix had joined the Dark Lord's crew partly because, well, what else was she supposed to do? But mostly because Rodolphus made it clear there weren't many other options. So, she dove headfirst into the madness, because what better way to deal with a rotten life than by making things worse?

But—and here's the kicker—Bellatrix wasn't entirely gone. Not yet, anyway. Somewhere in that dark, twisted heart of hers, there was still a flicker of something that wasn't all evil. Like that time with the Longbottoms. She'd been caught up in the madness of it all, throwing curses left and right, but when it came to the baby—Neville—something clicked. Maybe it was a bit of rebellion against Rodolphus, or maybe she just couldn't bear to see an innocent suffer the way she had. So, she hid him. A tiny act of mercy in a sea of darkness.

Now, as she sat in her cell, she clung to that one moment. Sure, she had done some awful things, but that single act? That was hers. She'd saved the kid, and no one—not her family, not Rodolphus, not even Voldemort—could take that from her. It wasn't much, but in Azkaban, you learn to hold onto whatever scraps of humanity you have left.

The thing about Azkaban is that it's like being stuck in a dementor-infested fridge with nothing but your worst memories to keep you company. But Bellatrix, ever the stubborn one, refused to let it break her completely. Oh, she knew she was teetering on the edge of madness—probably had been for a while—but there was something almost freeing about it. It was like being so far gone that you stopped caring about the little things, like whether your socks matched or if your evil overlord was a giant snake-obsessed weirdo.

Of course, none of that changed the fact that she was still stuck in the most miserable prison known to wizardkind, but hey, at least she had some fun memories. Like that time she almost made Snape laugh. That had been a good day.

Bellatrix sighed, leaning back against the damp stone wall, her dark curls tangling like ivy. She wasn't out of the game yet. There was always something brewing, some new opportunity to flip the script. And if there was one thing Bellatrix Black Lestrange was good at, it was making chaos work in her favor.

Even in the darkest corners of Azkaban, she wasn't about to let anyone—least of all herself—forget that.

Now, if only she could figure out how to get out of here without accidentally blowing something up.

—

Sirius Black didn't like the Ministry of Magic. Too many bad memories, too many people who still gave him the side-eye as if expecting him to whip out his wand and start causing mayhem. But today wasn't about him. It was about his family—his real family.

"Andromeda, let's move," Sirius muttered, practically dragging his cousin through the Ministry's overly polished corridors. The place was buzzing with witches and wizards who looked way too important for their own good.

"You're walking too fast," Andromeda huffed. "I can't hex Lucius from here, you know."

Sirius slowed down, but only slightly. "Sorry, but this is too big. We've got to get to Amelia before anyone else catches on."

Amelia Bones, head honcho of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and possibly the only sane person left in the Ministry, was waiting for them. And yeah, she wasn't the kind of person you made wait. So when Sirius knocked on her office door—more like pounded—it swung open almost immediately, revealing Amelia herself, looking like she hadn't had a decent cup of tea in days.

"Sirius. Andromeda," Amelia greeted, her voice as calm as ever, though her eyes held a seriousness that said, This better be good or someone's getting hexed. "Come in."

The two of them shuffled in, and Sirius plopped down in the chair, his knee bouncing nervously. "Amelia, we've got something big."

Andromeda, more composed, handed over a stack of parchments. "It's about Bellatrix and Narcissa. The contracts our dear Uncle Cygnus forced them into. They're more binding than Dobby to a sock drawer."

Amelia raised an eyebrow as she scanned the documents. "You mean to tell me these contracts—" She flipped through the papers. "—are why Bellatrix is in the position she's in? Forced into a marriage and, what, coerced into serving You-Know-Who?"

"That's the idea," Sirius said, crossing his arms. "If we can prove she was forced into this mess, it could change everything. We might even be able to get her out of Azkaban."

Amelia's eyes narrowed as she studied the fine print. "These contracts are… ancient. Not easily broken, and definitely not by a simple spell or loophole. But if this holds up—" She looked at Sirius and Andromeda, her face more serious than usual. "It could shift things."

Andromeda, always the voice of reason, spoke up. "Narcissa is still under Lucius's thumb. We can't go near her, not without risking everything. But Bellatrix… she's in Azkaban. If you send someone in under the pretense of reviewing her case, we might be able to talk to her. Discreetly."

"Discreetly?" Sirius barked a laugh. "We're talking about Azkaban here, Andromeda. Nothing's discreet."

Amelia raised her hand, silencing them both like a Hogwarts professor. "Actually, it's not a bad idea. We've been reviewing older case files anyway. I could slip Bellatrix's in, call it an internal review. That gives us the excuse we need to talk to her."

Sirius leaned forward, eyes blazing. "We're running out of time, Amelia. If we don't move fast, Lucius will tighten his hold on Narcissa, and Bellatrix will rot in that hellhole."

"I'm aware," Amelia said, standing up. "I'll get Kingsley and Moody on this. They'll handle security and keep it quiet. But we need to be very careful. If word gets out, we could be walking straight into a Death Eater trap."

Sirius grinned, but there was no humor in it. "We've walked into worse, haven't we?"

"Unfortunately," Andromeda sighed. "But at least this time we've got a plan that doesn't involve blowing something up. Yet."

"Yet," Amelia echoed, giving them a small, tight-lipped smile before turning back to the parchments. "I'll handle this, but be ready. The moment we get clearance, we move."

Sirius nodded, his heart racing. They were one step closer to giving his sisters something they hadn't had in years: a chance at freedom.

—

Within hours, the wheels were turning faster than a Quidditch snitch on espresso. Amelia Bones wasted no time, setting up an official review of Bellatrix Lestrange's case files, citing "procedural irregularities," which was basically Ministry-speak for 'We need to talk to her, and this is our best excuse'. It worked. The paperwork flew through the channels, and suddenly, Bellatrix was on the interview list.

Meanwhile, Sirius and Andromeda were stuck doing the least fun part of any plan: waiting. And boy, was it torture. They were sitting in one of the Ministry's sterile waiting rooms, which smelled faintly of old parchment and bad coffee, and Sirius could practically feel the tension in the air.

"You know," Sirius muttered, running his hand through his hair for the thousandth time, "for all the running and danger we've been through, this might actually be worse. How long does it take to read a few case files?"

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "Sirius, if we can't handle a little waiting, we're not going to do so well with what comes next."

"Yeah, well, patience isn't exactly my strong suit," he grumbled. He started tapping his foot like a hyperactive house-elf. "I'm just saying, I'd rather be up to my elbows in a Death Eater duel than sitting here."

"Pretty sure the last time you got what you wanted, you ended up in Azkaban," Andromeda pointed out, not unkindly.

Sirius groaned. "Okay, fair. But this time, at least, I'm trying to keep people out of Azkaban."

Andromeda gave him a half-smile, though her eyes were still clouded with worry. They both knew this wasn't just about Bellatrix. It was about fixing the past, about redeeming what was left of their family. Heavy stuff.

Time ticked by slower than a sloth on a lunch break, but finally, there was a knock on the door. Amelia Bones stepped in, looking as composed as ever—serious, but with a glimmer of something in her eyes. Hope, maybe? It was hard to tell. The Ministry wasn't exactly the place you found optimism lying around.

"It's done," she said. "The review's in motion. We've got clearance to talk to Bellatrix."

Sirius stood up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. "And?"

"And," Amelia continued, "we'll need to approach this carefully. We get one shot at this interview. If we don't get what we need, there's no second chance."

Sirius cracked a grin, his anxiety morphing into adrenaline. "One shot, huh? Guess we better make it count. No pressure or anything."

Andromeda sighed, shaking her head. "You've always had a flair for understatement."

Sirius winked. "What can I say? I'm just that good."

As Amelia headed out, the weight of what was coming settled over them. The hope for redemption was there, sure, but so was the possibility of failure. Either way, this mission wasn't just about paperwork—it was about family, second chances, and possibly, just maybe, saving Bellatrix from the dark path she'd been forced onto.

And really, no pressure. None at all.

—

Amelia Bones walked into the dimly lit interrogation room, her shoes echoing off the cold stone floors like she was about to make some kind of dramatic entrance. Which, to be fair, she was. Sitting there, shackled to a chair and looking as if she'd bitten off one too many lemons, was Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes were wild, like a cat that had just been told it couldn't knock something off a shelf.

"Miss Lestrange," Amelia said, keeping her voice cool and businesslike. "I'm here to discuss a matter of utmost importance regarding your family's affairs."

Bellatrix gave her a look that screamed, I dare you to make this interesting, then curled her lips into a sneer that would've made Snape proud. "What could you possibly want from me, Bones?" she spat, her tone thick with disgust, like Amelia had just suggested a game of Gobstones.

Amelia, though, was having none of it. "I believe you're aware of certain magical contracts your father enforced on you and your sisters," she said, her voice as steady as a metronome.

That got Bellatrix's attention. Her sneer faltered just a smidge, replaced by a flash of something Amelia might've called unease. "And what if I am?" Bellatrix countered, suspicion dripping off her words like a leaky cauldron.

Amelia leaned in, her eyes narrowing as if she were about to lay down a Full House in a particularly intense game of wizard poker. "We need your help to confirm the existence of these contracts," she said. "If we're right, these contracts have been controlling your actions for years. And if we can prove it, we might be able to help you."

Bellatrix responded the only way she knew how—by laughing. Except it wasn't the ha-ha kind of laugh; it was the I'm going to laugh at your funeral kind. "You think I'm going to betray my family's secrets to you?" she taunted, her voice practically hissing.

Amelia sighed inwardly. This was going to be fun. "Look, I get that you're big on family loyalty, but these contracts? They're not doing anyone any favors, least of all you."

There was a long, tense pause where Bellatrix's sneer battled with something that looked suspiciously like thoughtfulness. After what felt like an eternity—seriously, Amelia swore she could hear the clock ticking in her head—Bellatrix finally nodded. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms like a petulant teenager. "But don't think for a second I won't protect my family."

Amelia nodded back. "Noted," she said, summoning a quill and parchment with a flick of her wand. "Now, let's get started."

Bellatrix glared at the parchment as if it had personally offended her, but eventually, she began to speak. "The contracts were crafted by our father, Cygnus Black," she muttered, her voice dripping with bitterness. "They were designed to make sure we did exactly what he wanted—who we married, who we served. Everything."

Amelia leaned forward. "Did those contracts influence your actions as a Death Eater?" she asked, her voice steady, like she was asking what Bellatrix had for breakfast.

Bellatrix hesitated. Then, in a move that surprised even Amelia, she pulled up her sleeve to reveal a shockingly pale arm. No Dark Mark.

"The Dark Mark had to be taken voluntarily," Bellatrix said, her voice quieter now. "Rodolphus wanted me to, but the contract didn't go that far. Everything I did was because of him. Not because I wanted to."

For a second, Amelia wasn't sure what to say. This is huge, her brain was yelling. Bellatrix Lestrange—the woman who had supposedly served Voldemort with terrifying loyalty—didn't have the Dark Mark. And she was claiming her actions had been forced.

"You realize," Amelia said slowly, trying to process this new information, "that if this is true, it could expose everyone who claimed they were under the Imperius Curse. People like Lucius Malfoy."

Bellatrix nodded, her lips curling into something that was almost satisfaction. "Yeah, I know. I'm not the only one who's been lying."

Amelia let out a slow breath. "Bellatrix," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "this could change everything."

Bellatrix's expression shifted—there was still bitterness there, but also something softer. Hope, maybe? "What about me?" she asked quietly. "Will this get me out of here?"

Amelia looked at her for a long moment, feeling the weight of her duty pressing down on her like a hundred stacks of Ministry forms. "If we can prove this," she said, "we'll do everything we can to annul your marriage contract and revisit your case. But we need your help."

Bellatrix stared at her, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I never thought anyone would believe me."

Amelia stood, offering a hand to Bellatrix. "We have a long way to go," she said, her voice firm. "But we'll do what we can."

As Amelia left the room, her mind was spinning with the weight of what had just happened. She had come in hoping for answers, and now she had more than she'd bargained for. One thing was clear: the fight for justice had just become a whole lot more complicated.

And maybe, just maybe, Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't the villain everyone thought she was.

---

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