Echoes of Destiny: Harry and Bellatrix's Second Chance

The fire was roaring invitingly, but Harry couldn't find any comfort in the flames right now. It was nearing ten at night, and he was seriously wondering whatever madness had driven him to reply in affirmative to Voldemort's invitation. He was about to step into the home of one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time. W hat was he thinking ? A hand on his arm stilled his trembling form.

"You sure you want to do this, Harry?" Bellatrix asked softly.

"Too late to back out now," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Guess I'll find out if he's made me, or not."

"And possibly get killed." Bellatrix countered.

"I suppose."

"Keep in mind, he did chase us through the forest. I still say you should leave the spying to me," she continued, "he's marked you for interest, but chances are he wasn't following me specifically. Only reason he was, probably, because I was with you. I told you there's another meeting tonight at midnight. I could go there and find out what's going on."

Harry shook his head. "No, it's too dangerous. I told you before. Your father and uncle are going to have my head on a silver platter if I let anything happen to you."

"And this dark lord isn't?" Bellatrix's grip tightened. "Look, despite the fact that my uncle's getting himself involved now, somehow I have this feeling in my gut that no matter what anyone else does, you're the key to this, so I'll be damned if I just let you run off and get yourself killed!"

"Yeah, too bad we can't just shove a nuke through the floo and be done with it," Harry muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Harry waved her off.

Bellatrix finally let go of his arm and moved to stand in front of him. Fists stemmed into her hips, she glared at him defiantly as she blocked the way to the fireplace. "So you're just going to waltz in there, and what? Have tea with a dark lord?"

"Something like that."

"Look," she sighed in exhasperation, "why don't you just tell my uncle, and we can figure out-"

"No," Harry shook his head vehemently. "I'm not involving your uncle in this."

"If this is some kind of macho thing, Ashworth…"

"It's not."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really," she deadpanned. "So you spend however long in your time fighting this guy, being hunted by him, and then you're captured and tortured and whatnot and marked for death. And you tell me you're fine with just accepting an invitation to tea that probably is a trap ? He's probably suspicious of you already!"

"And if I don't go, he will be suspicious." Harry sighed. "Look, I don't expect you to understand, but I know him better than anyone else, even Dumbledore. I spent five years of my life fighting against him, watching friends die because of him. I know him. That's why I've got to go now. If I can get into his inner circle, I can destroy him and his bid for power before it even starts."

She stared at him in disbelief. " What ? That is your plan ?" she shrieked.

"Part of it. Let's just call it a recent addition, since he did invite me." Harry crossed his arms belligerently.

"Your plan's stupid," she told him bluntly.

"And you have a better idea?"

"Damn right I do," she replied haughtily. "One that doesn't involve you getting yourself killed for nothing."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would you stop talking like I'm dead already?" he asked in annoyance.

"Then would you care to tell me what makes you think he isn't going to kill you outright after he chased us halfway across England the last time we saw him, because someone who shall remain unnamed conveniently forgot that he shares some kind of weird psychic bond?"

"I didn't forget," Harry corrected. "There was no other way. He was going to be there, and it couldn't be avoided. I am counting on the fact that certain future events haven't happened yet, which means he will be unaware of the significance of said bond."

"Oh, and he's just going to be curious and ask you what that's all about?"

"Perhaps I can convince him I was trying to probe his occlumency shields. The sensation is pretty close to it." At Bellatrix's pointed glare, he continued. "I know him. He's curious, especially if I'm not an enemy. He's also arrogant, as long as he thinks he's got the situation in hand, he won't kill me."

"And if he doesn't fall for it? You told me yourself he's a powerful legilimens, and I'm sure he's capable of breaking through your shields, as well. Especially if he's as curious as you say he is. Why bother asking you when he can get what he wants this way, and without having to figure out whether you're lying to him or not?"

Harry shook his head belligerently. "He likes toying with people. Unless you're a threat to him, he'll have his fun messing with you first before he kills you."

"And you know him that well." It wasn't a question, and Harry almost cringed at her accusatory tone.

"Yes, I do."

Bellatrix sighed. "Tell me, Ashworth, are you willing to bet your life on that? Do you even have a backup plan in case things go sour?"

"I'll make a break for the floo, and get out."

"Ashworth, you're an idiot."

"Miss Black-"

"Don't 'Miss Black' me! You think I can't see right through you? Well, news flash, I can read you like an open book, Ashworth," Bellatrix's voice rose in pitch and volume, and Harry was glad he'd put a silencing charm around his quarters once more - a habit he'd gotten into thanks to Moody's constant drilling on constant vigilance.

"Really?" Harry shot back acerbically, irritated at her sudden questioning of his motives and her arrogance at presuming to know what he was thinking. Who does she think she is, he thought angrily.

"Yes, really," Bellatrix said flatly. "You think I can't tell you hate this guy's guts? You think I can't tell how much you're just itching to prove yourself, to get back at him for whatever shit he put you through in your time?"

"Yes, I hate him," Harry hissed angrily, "yes, I would kill him given the chance, and I would do so gladly. He's a dangerous madman, and if he's allowed to live, he'll cause everyone unimaginable pain and suffering!"

"He'll cause you unimaginable pain and suffering," Bellatrix replied quietly.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but realized he couldn't. She was right, and he knew it, as much as he wanted to deny it. He wanted revenge on Voldemort, he wanted him dead, but not for such lofty goals as saving the wizarding world, or preventing all the bloodshed Voldemort would cause. It was part of the reason, certainly, but as he'd told Orion, he wanted vengeance . He wanted Voldemort to die for all he'd done to him.

Seeing the realization flash across his eyes, Bellatrix's tone softened considerably. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened to you in that future of yours, but I can imagine it wasn't pretty. I'm sure you lost friends, maybe even family. And you want revenge for that, it's understandable. But I'm not going to let you throw your life away on some stupid plan because you think it'll get you one step closer to killing him, your life be damned, you understand?"

"Despite what you may think, I'm not suicidal," Harry muttered in annoyance.

"Could've fooled me."

"Look," Harry sighed, as he set himself to explain himself to his erstwhile partner, something he found himself doing surprisingly often lately. "I'm not planning on getting myself killed, as much as you might think so. Yes, I want to get back at him for what he's done… will do. Yes, I hate him. But I didn't fight against him as long and hard as I did just so I can die when all's said and done. You're asking me to trust you, and I do. But that goes both ways. I know things about him that no one else aside from him knows. I know his deepest, darkest secrets, his strengths and his weaknesses. I know his arrogance and his powers, his cunning and his tactics. I've duelled him often enough to know how he fights and how frighteningly powerful he truly is."

Bellatrix was silent for a long moment. "You've fought him before?"

"I have," Harry confirmed without pride.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ashworth, because I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces all the time."

"I do. Trust me." The clock chimed, and Harry stepped around her, noting that she made no move to intercept him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You just make sure you do."

"Don't worry, I will." He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace. "Gaunt Estate."

As he stepped through the flames, he turned to look over his shoulder. "And Bellatrix… stay out of trouble."

In a flash of green flames, he was gone.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace without stumbling, for a change. The room he had entered into was dimly lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The light was barely enough to illuminate the center of the room, leaving the walls in utter darkness. A coffee table and bar were set up in the parts of the room he could see, along with a seating group. A man sat with his back to the fireplace, his long black cloak shrouding his form as he sat on a barstool at the counter.

"Good evening, Mr. Ashworth," the person said, surprising Harry. It wasn't the deep, grating voice of Voldemort, but rather, the pleasant, cultured, if arrogant tones of the Tom Riddle he remembered from the diary in his second year.

"Mr. Riddle," Harry feigned nonchalance. "I have to admit, I was surprised by your invitation."

"I have to admit," Voldemort said as he turned around, "it is a bit irregular of me. I do not make a habit of asking people over to discuss matters privately. Mainly because I found I cannot trust many people."

"I know that particular feeling very well," Harry replied evenly.

"Do you, now? Interesting." Voldemort gestured towards the stool next to him. "Please, have a seat."

"I prefer to stand, thank you."

Voldemort stared at him appraisingly for a moment, and Harry raised all of his mental shields in preparation for the legilimency attack that was sure to come… but it never did. With an almost casual shrug, Voldemort returned his attention to the glass he was nursing. "Suit yourself," he said.

"I'm guessing you didn't invite me here for idle chit-chat?"

"Indeed." Voldemort seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts, and Harry was left to wonder about the dichotomy of this more casual, almost relaxed wizard, which was such a contrast to the firebrand image of himself he projected to the Death Eater assemblies.

"So why am I here?"

The glass was set down on top of the polished wood with a solid clink. "Because, Mr. Ashworth, I am… very curious about you."

"Really? And what did I do to rate this… interest?"

Voldemort rose from his chair. "You are aware of the current situation of the wizarding world, yes?"

"I am. There's quite a bit of unrest in Great Britain about the decline in pureblood supremacy. Mostly people being discontent with the loss of their wealth and status, as I understand."

"You are correct. I am… leading a movement to rectify this."

Harry was getting sick of these games of politics everyone around him was playing. It seemed unspoken etiquette that people danced around the subject as if they were in a shop full of fragile china, even if everyone knew damn well what they were talking about. It wasn't his nature.

"Let's cut the pleasantries. You and I both know you're the person who calls himself Lord Voldemort, and we both know what you want."

Something akin to a smile graced the dark lord's features. "Indeed. I see you're a person who doesn't like beating around the bush, very good, very good. Then allow me to tell you why you are here. I had hoped that by signing with my… common name would avoid trouble if you read the letter in company that is unaware of our relations."

"Please do."

"Very well, then." Voldemort took a step towards Harry, the flames from the chandelier and the fireplace casting his face in an unearthly glow, allowing Harry to see him clearly for the first time. The skin on Voldemort's face and neck was pale, even more so than the moonlight had suggested at their first meeting, and the skin was pulled taut over his bones. He still looked very human, but very different from the image Harry had of him as Tom Riddle nonetheless.

"When we met in the Forbidden Forest, I knew there was something different about you," Voldemort began. "Something… I couldn't quite put my finger on. You must have felt it, also. Tell me, Mr. Ashworth, were you trying to probe me?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. The sensation was close, very close, but not quite. Nothing like… this ."

Harry felt a searing pain in his forehead as Voldemort's mental probe lanced through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter, ramming its way through his occlumency shields. In desperation, Harry erected more barriers in his mind, only to watch in horror as one of them fell after the other. He could feel Voldemort's mind probing deeper and deeper into his mind, closing in unto the secrets he held safely locked away in the back corner of his mind: the knowledge of the future and what Voldemort would become.

A small eternity seemed to pass, though in reality it probably was only a few seconds when Harry stumbled upon one last, crazy, desperate defensive tactic. Mustering all of the skills he had of legilimency, he sent a psychic backlash through the connection Voldemort had established with him, hoping to slow Voldemort's crushing advance through his mind with a withering barrage of his own. It worked - he could feel Voldemort's probe recoil and retreat as the dark lord stumbled backwards, clutching at his head.

Harry found himself on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he tried to shake off the pain that hit him when Voldemort finally fully withdrew from his mind. "That… wasn't nice," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Impressive. I wasn't expecting that, I'll admit." Voldemort collected himself and rose to his full height as he towered over Harry. "I find it interesting that there is something in your mind you seem determined to protect at all costs. Is it, perhaps then, linked to this strange sensation I feel whenever I am close to you?"

Managing a brief grimace at the way that sounded, Harry stumbled to his feet. "I swear, if you're going to tell me you're attracted to me, I'm gonna…"

"Your humor is misplaced, Mr. Ashworth." Voldemort paused for a moment, then seemed to back off. He didn't physically step back, but his presence receeded, giving Harry some breathing space. "I am sure you understand my need for secrecy. If I recruit people to my cause, I need to be absolutely certain of their trustworthiness. There can be no secrets in my inner circle."

"Sorry, but I generally don't like people messing with my head," Harry replied. "You should see the headache I gave Dumbledore on my first day at Hogwarts."

"Curious. I can understand your desire to keep some things private, however your response to the threat I posed to you just now has shown to me that you possess an extraordinary level of talent, compared to the majority of the wizarding world your age. I am sure you can understand my puzzlement as to why you came to England. Your family is almost nobility in Australia, so why come here? Why come all alone, without a friend or contact, so alone, in fact, that you are even now relying on the Black and Malfoy families to advance your career? And how is it that the Malfoy and Black patriarchs show such generousity to what amounts to a complete stranger?"

Harry shrugged passively. "Maybe they were feeling charitable?" He made sure to avoid mentioning Bellatrix's name, tried to avoid thinking it, even.

Voldemort chuckled. "I highly doubt that. No, there is something about you that makes them believe you may be of value to them."

"If you're implying I'm being used by them to further their goals, whatever their ulterior motives are, then I am well aware of that. Likewise, I am merely using them as a stepping stone to see that my own goals are realized."

"Good, that is very good. Intelligent people are so rare among our kind these days." The dark wizard nearly grinned toothily. "Whatever the case may be, I am interested in why you came here, when you could have lived comfortably in your home."

Thinking fast, Harry replied with what he figured Voldemort wanted to hear. "Things aren't exactly all happy sunshine down under. This… muggleborn rights movement is gaining popularity, though it took longer for it to take hold in Australia than it did here, since we didn't get hit nearly as hard by the fallout of the war as Europe. But there is talk of bringing more equality to our society, and frankly, it disgusts me. I had heard that there was an opposition to that forming in Britain, so I came here. That I crossed the Blacks and Malfoys on the way is mere coincidence, though a fortunate one."

"I see…" Harry could tell Voldemort was weighing whether to believe him or not. Deciding to up the ante, he added one more piece of bait.

"Especially since I am sure that I can bring considerable leverage to your position in the decisionmaking process of both houses. Like you said, for some reason they have decided to trust me. My position there… could benefit you. Greatly," Harry offered.

"A tempting offer, if I were inclined to take the risk you would pose to me in such a position." The dark lord inclined his head in contemplation. He raised his head, staring Harry in the eye. "I have to decline, I'm afraid. You see, Mr. Ashworth, if I have learned one thing, then it is to never surround myself with intelligent people… because intelligent people inevitably will find a way to stab me in the back."

Voldemort's hand slipped into his robes, and Harry had no doubt that he was going for his wand. "Besides," the dark wizard continued, "I know that Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy are not so easily swayed. They may not like muggleborn, but their belief that they are the salvation of the wizarding world is unshakable. That alone would be reason for me to be suspicious of your offer, but now I notice it comes on the heels of a motion to put the Black family in power."

"And if I can convince them to support you, that would be all the more help for your cause."

Voldemort laughed as his wand cleared the sleeve of his robe. "No, Mr. Ashworth, I did not come this far by being stupid. My life, my cause is built on the premise of obscurity. In the shadows we hide, in darkness we move, in anonymity we act, until the time is right. This place you see here has not been seen by mortal eyes for decades. The Ministry has all but forgotten about it. It belonged to a mediocre wizard who used to believe in his own superiority because of his bloodline. He was proven wrong, and in the end, he died a sick, lonely old fool. I know better. Our bloodline is only one thing, but power, true power, has to be earned . It has to be earned by walking the path everyone else fears to travel. It has to be earned by delving into the deepest secrets. But I will not jeopardize my cause by bringing it into public view."

Harry shrugged as he tried to reach for his own wand as secretly as possible. "Your loss, I guess."

"No, Mr. Ashworth, it is your loss. I know Black and Malfoy are aware something is going on. They are far too sharp not to. Maybe they even know there's malcontent spreading amongst our youth over the way things are. You would be a threat to me, as close to them as you are." Voldemort's wand was out now, pointing straight at Harry, who gulped in surprise as he stared at the piece of wood his nemesis was wielding. It was a familiar eleven-inch long piece of holly.

"Then why bring me here?" Harry asked, trying to stall for time, and thinking to himself that Bellatrix had been right - coming here had been a colossally stupid idea. "Just so you can kill me? You never had any intention of talking about recruitment, did you?"

"Oh, but I did. I did until I realized how powerful you were in resisting my probe. Having someone around me who can keep secrets and is willing to defend them so violently is never a good thing." Voldemort flicked his wand, and the fire in the fireplaced died down to glowing embers. "Now you have a choice. Live or die, it's easy as that. I do see the wisdom in having you as an ally, Mr. Ashworth, but having you as an ally with free will would be much more of a risk than I am willing to take. I am, however, not a bloodthirsty barbarian. You're free to leave, if you will consent to be put under the Imperius spell."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will die."

The clock tower of the castle chimed midnight, loud enough that it was clearly heard even deep in the Forbidden Forest. When nothing happened, and no one appeared, the students slowly started muttering amongst themselves. Bellatrix pulled her cloak tighter around herself and stood off to one side, trying to make out as much of the ongoing conversations as she could. Her solitude didn't last long, however, because a broad-shouldered cloaked figure strode up to her, easily recognizable as one of the Lestrange brothers.

"Well, well, well… who do we have here?" the voice revealed it to be Rudolphus. "I see you're not in the company of that git of a teacher today. What happened, dear Bella? Lover's spat?"

She decided to not grace that with a reply, and remained silent, knowing it would irritate Lestrange. It worked, and she could see his shoulders tense.

"What's the matter, Bella? No witty comebacks tonight?"

"Just decided you weren't worth one, Lestrange," she shot back quietly.

"Ohhh, feisty," Rabastan said as he approached from the side. The elder Lestrange brother smirked under his hood. "Her father's appointed candidate for Minister, and she's already letting it go to her head. Aren't you, Bella?"

"Screw you, Lestrange."

"Wouldn't you just like to?" Rabastan grinned, then looked over at his brother. "Say, maybe you should hit up Mother and Father to see if they'll arrange a marriage with her for you. It'd be great for the family standing!"

Bellatrix decided to respond to that in a mature fashion: by kicking his shin. Lestrange's howl of pain was drowned out by the rustling of the leaves in a strong breeze. A chuckle from behind them drew Bellatrix's attention. Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight.

"As if Orion Black would ever consent to a daughter of his house to marry into someone of as low a standing as a Lestrange," he commented with a smirk.

"Say, do you know what we're doing here, blondie?" Rudolphus asked in irritation, and was rewarded with a baleful glare from Romulus Malfoy's only son.

"As far as I know, there were a few matters to resolve with regards to the membership of our little group," he replied haughtily.

"Hey, listen up, folks!" A student's voice rang out across the clearing as two figures moved to stand in the center of the grassy field. Eventually, all conversation around them stilled.

"Okay, so listen. You heard what the big man said last time, and you've all had time to think about it," the same figure spoke, and Bellatrix tried to match a face to the voice. Gretchen Goyle, she recalled, a brute from Slytherin who never amounted to much intellectually, but certainly had more brawn than half of their Quidditch team put together.

"And we've decided to sign up with him, so he's told us to hold this meeting," the other figure announced, and Bellatrix matched it to Cannabo Crabbe… another muscleman from Slytherin, and she idly wondered how these two idiots had somehow made it to the top of Tom's recruitment list.

"Get on with it, already!" Rudophus shouted impatiently, earning himself what would've been a withering glare from anyone else. From Crabbe, though, it was just a look of mildly depressed stupidity.

"Now, the first thing on the list," Bellatrix barely managed to suppress a groan when Crabbe, good goon that he was, pulled out an actual list, "is some admonis- adminos-"

Goyle elbowed him in the ribs. "Administrative, ya git!"

"Right, ad-mi-nis-tra-tive," Crabbe enunciated carefully, "matters. Before each of you can get the boss's approval and earn yourself your badge, you'll have to prove your loyalty to him."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy asked.

Goyle lit up his wand tip and pulled back his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of black ink on his pale forearm. "This. All of us who are with the boss are marked like this, so we know who's loyal."

There was a muttering amongst the students, which was quieted by a shush from Goyle. "Look, the first thing it says we gotta do is weed out the real deals from all of ya's who're only here for kicks. Because this isn't a game we're playing, this is serious. So we're gonna use this."

The vial glinted in the silver moonlight. "That's veritaserum," Crabbe provided helpfully.

Bellatrix spied a small group of students out of the corner of her eye that made an about face and left the clearing.

"If you're not serious about joining up and doing what the boss says, then just go now and save yourself the trouble," Goyle added, "but if you take it and your answers ain't to our liking… you won't be liking them consequences."

Crabbe cracked his knuckles as if to emphasize the point, and more students broke off from the meeting and returned. Bellatrix felt torn; part of her brain was urging her to leave, knowing that there was a good likelyhood that she was going to be found out when they administered the serum to her. Another part wanted to stay, knowing deep down that this was important and hoping that either she could fool the serum, or somehow avoid being asked questions that would compromise her.

The remaining students began to file themselves into a line, and she suddenly found herself at the rear, wedged in between Malfoy ahead of her, and the two Lestranges behind her. Her mind kept churning over the matter, until Bellatrix realized with a start that there were only two students ahead of her. Then it was Malfoy's turn.

"Name?" Crabbe asked.

"Lucius Amadeus Carolinius Thaddeus Malfoy," he replied blankly, oblivious to the chuckles around him.

"Are you a pureblood?"

"Yes."

"What are your intentions in joining this group?" Goyle read off yet another pre-written sheet of parchment.

"To gain power and prestige by any means necessary, and restore the Malfoy family name in the eyes of the wizarding world."

It was apparently a satisfactory answer because Crabbe and Goyle nodded after a brief moment of muted conference. Then came a question that caused Bellatrix's blood to run cold.

"Do you know of anything about Lord Voldemort that could pose a threat to him, or are you spying for anyone or any organization?"

"No."

"Okay, you pass." Goyle, as the slightly-more-intelligent of the pair, waved Malfoy forward, while Crabbe turned to Bellatrix.

Panicking slightly, Bellatrix forced herself to calm down as she took one slow step forward. Okay, think, Bella, think… how am I gonna get out of this one? She eyed the bottle of veritaserum apprehensively, forcing her legs to move at a steady pace and hoping no one was noticing how much she was trying not to shake in growing terror as she realized that the questions were standardized, obviously written by Voldemort to ensure utter and complete loyalty among those chosen to serve him.

Dammit, Ashworth was right, she thought as she realized she was in over her head, and that she should have left when she had the chance. Then it was too late, and Crabbe was holding the bottle over her as she opened her mouth. The droplet of truth serum hit her tongue, and she felt the sensation wash across her body instantly. It numbed her thoughts, fogged her mind, and she could almost see herself answer automatically to the questions through a haze.

"Name?"

"Bellatrix Estella Black."

"Are you a pureblood?"

"Yes."

"What are your intentions in joining this group?"

"I…" Bellatrix fought the haze with all her might, and managed to still her tongue before replying. The urge to answer and say I am infiltrating this group to bring about its downfall grew stronger with each passing second. The strain on her grew, as did the pain. It must have shown on her face, because Crabbe was backing up and looking at her strangely.

"Get a grip, Bella," Lestrange - she didn't know which one - said from behind her and shoved her forward.

"She's not looking too good," someone commented from the side, followed by a chorus of agreements.

"I think she's fighting it…" Malfoy, now recovered from his own brief stint with a small dose of the truth serum, noted.

Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to just let go and let her body say what it will, but she knew that if she did, she was dead. She had to hold on at least till the serum wore off, any illusions she had that she could fight it and somehow reply with a lie had gone up in smoke and wishful thinking.

"Why's she…" Rabastan broke off abruptly. "Of course, her daddy's set to become Minister! It's a shoe-in, so daddy's little girl here is spying for him!"

Crap, was the only thought that shot through Bellatrix's mind as she heard that. The next thing that caught her attention was the rustle of many hands reaching for wands. She managed to stumble to the side, away from Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the students, but her body refused to move any faster than that.

"Oh no, you don't," Rudolphus reached out and grabbed her arm. "So, what do we do with her?" he asked Goyle, who checked his list of instructions and hurriedly conferred with Crabbe. Leering at her, Lestrange couldn't resist copping a feel as he held her fast.

Before anyone could answer, though, Bellatrix's mind cleared enough for her to act, and she thanked whatever deity would listen that Voldemort had picked the stupid ones as his executors, because they couldn't seem to decide what to do with her quickly. She lifted her leg and stomped down hard.

Rudolphus's scream of pain echoed in the clearing as he let go of her in favor of dropping to the ground and nursing the foot she'd just stomped on. The rest of the group looked on in stunned silence as Bellatrix reared back and kicked the younger Lestrange right where it hurt the most, then whirled around and disappeared into the forest at a dead run.

"Get her!" Goyle shouted angrily, and the students started running after her.