Echoes of Destiny: Harry and Bellatrix's Second Chance

Peering through an inexpensive set of omnioculars, Harry grinned as he watched Bellatrix apparate away from the Blacks' ancestral cemetery. He would have loved to have heard what she had said to her mother and aunt. Perched high in the ruins of Ravenbourgh, Harry shifted his position and zoomed the omnioculars in on Walburga and Druella Black. They were now just recovering from the confrontation with the relatively whiter sheep of the family.

Harry watched from a distance as Walburga helped Druella to her feet. The sisters-in-law had a discussion. Their conversation was heated, but brief. Walburga apparated away. Druella stumbled over to where Narcissa Black was still trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She grabbed Narcissa and double-apparated the both of them away-presumably to their home.

With a small sigh, Harry lowered the omnioculars and checked the time on his watch. The formalities of the funeral had run longer than he had anticipated. He brought the omnioculars back to his eyes and scanned the cemetery and territory surrounding it. With the departure of the last Blacks, there now was nobody present. He deposited the omnioculars in a pocket and proceeded to pick his way through the ruins of Ravenbourgh, eventually climbing down to what had been the ground floor and then through a wall that had once been solid.

Harry stealthily made his way to Cygnus's grave in the cemetery. Upon arriving, he withdrew one of the strongboxes from a pocket and enlarged it to its normal size. He placed it on the ground next to him and then cast a number of spells to dig up the grave, piling the dirt on the other side of the hole from him.

When Harry could see Cygnus's coffin, he reached over with his foot and nudged the strongbox over the edge into the open grave. It hit Cygnus's coffin with a rather loud thud. Harry winced, feeling guilty for damaging the dead wizard's coffin. Shrugging away his guilt, Harry moved the dirt back into the hole and sealed up the grave, placing a number of basic wards to protect his little cache. Feeling more than a little bit obligated to pay his last respects, Harry stood in front of the grave for a few moments before indirectly apparating away to his next destination.

By the time Harry arrived at Privet Drive, the sun had dropped below the horizon. It was not yet completely dark, but it soon would be. Briskly, Harry moved through what had been the neighborhood of his childhood-or rather, what would be the neighborhood he remembered. It was still under construction. A few houses were complete, but most of the neighborhood was either houses under construction or empty lots.

Eventually, Harry arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive. It was half-built. The walls were up and the builder was in the process of putting bricks on the exterior. Harry couldn't remember whether the Dursleys had bought the house new or not, but it didn't really matter for his purposes.

Quietly, Harry walked into the construction site, ducking under the barriers meant to keep the public out. There were not yet any doors, so Harry was unimpeded as he walked into the house and stood in the front hall. He stopped and stared at his cupboard. The plasterboard hadn't been put up yet, so it didn't seem that small.

Sighing sadly at the memories of his childhood and feeling a vague tinge of anger just from thinking about the Dursleys, Harry moved to the fireplace. The hearth and chimney were already complete, though the mantelpiece had yet to be installed.

A wave of Harry's wand prompted the chimney bricks to split open to reveal the shaft. Harry removed another strongbox from one of his pockets, enlarged it, and deposited it into the chimney, about two feet above the fireplace opening. He added a few wards as well as a number of confundus charms and Muggle-repelling charms. His last spell restored the fireplace bricks to their original status. The Dursley's fireplace would never work, and they would never feel the prompting to wonder why. Harry smiled mischievously at this minor prank on the Dursley family even though it likely would never bother them. They had never used the fireplace when he had lived with them.

Harry approached the fireplace, kneeled down and stuck his hand up the chimney. He could feel the box resting just above the opening to the fireplace. Satisfied that it was accessible but protected from people who didn't already know it was there, Harry stood and stepped back.

He apparated again and found himself in a London alleyway. Quickly, he walked to a tube station and then into a public toilet. In a very dirty stall, he used his wand to alter his appearance somewhat drastically before apparating from the bathroom stall to Knockturn Alley.

Harry, disguised as tall, thin, and mean-looking wizard of middle age, appeared in front of the pub known as the Serpent's Fang, which was apparently a location from whence the occasional Death Eater recruited people to do his or her dirty work. Carefully, Harry relaxed his facial muscles and set a dispassionate expression on his temporary face. Harry then strode into the pub and up to the counter behind which the barkeep stood, a bored expression set on his face.

"Firewhiskey," Harry growled in a low voice. He had never been very good at using magic to disguise his voice and thus had opted to do without.

The barkeep looked blankly at Harry, but fulfilled the request. In but a moment, Harry had a tall glass of firewhiskey, and the barkeep had money to cover the drink and a little more.

Harry sipped his firewhiskey undisturbed for a few moments before being approached by one of the regulars, a tough-looking wizard.

"Haven't seen you around," the wizard said.

"I haven't been around," Harry said, attempting to make his voice sound slightly deeper.

"Why not?"

"Azkaban," Harry muttered, turning his back to the bar and leaning against it. "Before that, I was in Liverpool."

This seemed to satisfy his new friend for a few moments, but curiosity eventually reared its head again. "What's your name?"

"Dursley," Harry bit out. "Dudley Dursley. My friends call me Big D."

The tough-looking wizard looked Harry up and down. "You ain't big."

"Was before Azkaban," Harry said, taking a sip of his firewhiskey.

"I hear you," said the wizard.

Harry didn't respond.

"My friends call me Thorpe," the tough wizard finally admitted when he saw that Harry wasn't about to make the next move.

"Thorpe," Harry said by way of greeting, raising his whiskey glass a centimeter or two, only barely meeting the requirements of civility. He needed to establish friends, but he definitely didn't want to leave anyone with the impression that he was desperate.

Firelight danced in Bellatrix's eyes as the basilisk corpse burned. Burning the carcass after removing the hide and extracting all usable potion ingredients had seemed very practical and easy in the first place, but Bellatrix was now annoyed. The stench was awful, and the carcass wasn't burning well. She cast several cleaning spells on herself and then another round of fire charms for the carcass.

Briefly, she considered fiendfyre before dismissing the thought as she glanced at her stack of potion ingredient cases stacked uniformly. If she made a mistake, they and the small fortune of basilisk parts inside would be reduced to ashes. Thus, she had been forced to settle for a less potent magical fire. At least it didn't put off too much smoke.

The potion ingredients on her mind, Bellatrix walked over and examined them again, making sure each case was secured. She then turned and sat down on one of the small stacks before casting another round of fire spells. Just as she finished casting the spells, Harry's image appeared in front of her.

"Bella, it's four in the morning," Harry groaned.

Bellatrix smirked as she examined Harry's appearance. It was clear that he was exhausted. "Stay up late?"

"I went to a pub called the Serpent's Fang and made some new friends," Harry yawned.

Bellatrix vaguely considered feeling guilty for bothering Harry, but quickly shoved the remorse aside. "You made good time," she pointed out. "It only took you a few minutes to get here. You're getting better at the image projection spell."

"Nope," said Harry. "I apparated to just outside of the Hogwarts wards before doing the spell."

"Cheater."

"You didn't have to wake up the next morning after casting that dumb thing across the country," Harry mumbled. He turned and surveyed the burning snake. "Looks like you've been busy."

"I have been," Bellatrix affirmed. "That actually brings us to the topic of why I asked you here."

"Oh, really?" said Harry.

"Yeah."

"Okay, so why am I here?"

"Well, ah, hmm," said Bellatrix. "Do you want the long story or the short story?"

"Short story, please."

Bellatrix smiled as sweetly as she could. "Today is the day I leave Hogwarts."

"The term isn't over," Harry quickly pointed out, slightly confused and suspicious.

"I take it you'll need the long story, then," Bellatrix said briskly, waving her wand and renewing the fire charms on the basilisk carcass.

Harry shook his head negatively. "I think I can piece it together. You're done harvesting the basilisk ingredients and then, this past evening, you had a big spat with your mother and aunt."

"You came to the funeral, didn't you?" Bellatrix accused him, though deep down, she was rather grateful to know that Harry had cared enough about her father and even perhaps her.

Harry shrugged. "I felt guilty at the thought of missing it."

"My mother and aunt want me to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, which probably isn't very surprising to you," Bellatrix informed Harry.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend doing it," Harry said sleepily. "However, I don't see how that means you should now leave Hogwarts and move in with me before summer even starts. You need to finish your schooling."

Bellatrix set her face into an expression of sweet, victimized innocence. "They might try to force me to marry Rodolphus," she said. "It would be better for everyone involved if I was under your protective influence."

Harry snorted.

"This is serious," Bellatrix growled. "They might try to force me."

"They can't force you. You've reached the age of majority, and I'm the head of the Black family, so they've got nothing on you there. In all honesty, I don't think that even I could force you to marry anybody."

"Yeah, well on a one to ten scale of ruthless, you're a zero and my aunt is five hundred and fifty."

"All right, so they're obnoxious," Harry admitted. "At Hogwarts, you can ignore them. When the summer comes, you'll have a place with me. Feasibly, you might never see your aunt or mother again."

"Okay," said Bellatrix. "What happens after I stay here until the end of the term and go home for the summer with you?"

"Well, I don't know. What are your summer plans? Majorca?"

"Very funny," Bellatrix said, beginning to get slightly cross. "I'm not going back for my seventh year. I'm going to be helping you fight the dark lord."

Harry couldn't argue against the merits of fighting the dark lord, and he knew that he would need help sooner than later. The Order would make an effort, and Minister Prewett would be relentless in his pursuit of Death Eaters, but Harry knew that the fight against Voldemort boiled down to him and Voldemort. Having someone at his side that he could trust would be a boon. There were still other facets of the decision to consider, however.

"What about your NEWTs?" Harry asked. "How are you supposed to pass those?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Why do people get NEWTs, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Because they should?"

"So they can get a job, Harry. Do you really think I'm going to go around looking for a job anytime soon? Harry, we're possibly the richest people in all of Britain!"

"Eh, you're still presupposing that we're going to get married."

"Aren't we?" Bellatrix asked, trying to peer into Harry's green eyes intently.

"I haven't committed to that," Harry said stubbornly, avoiding her direct gaze.

"Why not?" asked Bellatrix. "We could do it today."

"I just don't want to jump into it," Harry grumbled.

"Fine," groused Bellatrix. "We don't have to do the marriage today. However, so far, your only objection to me leaving Hogwarts is that I won't earn my NEWTs. I don't need them, and I can always get them later. Where does that leave us?"

"I don't know."

"It sounds like I'm moving in with you today," announced Bellatrix.

Harry closed his eyes and searched for a reason to deny her. In the end, he came up empty. "Fine," he said, giving in.

"Great," said Bellatrix, noticeably happier. "I'll run up, grab my trunk from my dorm, and then you can phoenix fire us out of here."

"I'm not phoenix firing anywhere," retorted Harry. "I've got better things to do than be exhausted all day. Besides, I don't have a clue how to take extra people with me."

"Spoil sport," Bellatrix grumbled.

"I just agreed to let you leave Hogwarts and move in with me, and you're calling me a spoil sport?"

"Letting me come with you was the logical thing to do," Bellatrix said airily. "It benefits you just as much as it benefits me."

"Don't even start that," Harry said.

"All right," said Bellatrix. "I can leave Hogwarts on my own. Where shall I meet you?"

"The Three Broomsticks," Harry decided. "I'll meet you there for lunch at two."

"Lunch at two?" Bellatrix asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I going back to bed," Harry announced. "See you then." His image then disappeared.

Lunch at the Three Broomsticks proved somewhat successful-at least for Harry. Bellatrix had eaten lunch at the proper time up at the castle. Consequently, she satisfied herself only with a butterbeer as Harry ate. Eventually, he double-apparated Bellatrix and her luggage to the hotel he'd checked into just before meeting her. They were soon standing in front of the door to their room.

"This is your key," Harry said, retrieving a hotel room key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing into the room. "There you are. The bed closest to the window is mine." He then handed her the key.

"Aren't you going to go in?" Bellatrix asked, noticing that Harry was ostensibly remaining in the hall.

"I've got errands," Harry replied. "I'll probably be back rather late, actually. You got anything you're planning to do?"

Bellatrix pursed her lips and set her face into a somewhat annoyed expression. "Well, normally I'd prefer to accompany you on your errands, seeing that we're partners, but as it is, I think I should probably go find us a more permanent place to live."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Harry objected. "I've been moving around because Tom has apparently put the word out about me."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I know of some wards that we can use to keep him and his merry band of minions away from us. As long as we have ownership of the property, it will be relatively easy to set up the wards."

"That sounds pretty good," Harry said. He didn't enjoy moving around too much. Bellatrix's experience with the darker arts might also prove useful. She would know what they needed to defend against.

"Great," said Bellatrix. "I'll go shopping for a place to live. In order for me to do the wards, though, I'm going to need some books and possibly heirlooms from the Black family vault. You can either come with me, or you can write out a note authorizing me to visit the vault and withdraw items."

"I'll write the note," Harry said, not particularly wanting to pay another visit to the bank. He stepped into the room, found a sheet of complimentary hotel stationery at the desk, and wrote out a short note for Bellatrix before handing it to her.

"On second thought, could you specify multiple visits?" Bellatrix asked.

Harry sighed, but quickly amended the note to the bank. "Happy?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said, beaming him a smile.

"Great. I'll see you later. You'll probably be asleep by the time I get back here," Harry said. He then left the room. Automatically, the hotel room door swung shut behind him leaving Bellatrix alone.

Humming somewhat happily, Bellatrix enlarged her trunk and quickly rifled through it. Finding an outfit that seemed somewhat Muggle, she changed into it before departing for Gringotts, thoroughly enjoying her newfound freedom. She was practically independent now. There were no more school rules and no more parent or guardian figures. Turning seventeen had been one thing, but now she truly felt "of age."

She soon arrived in the Gringotts lobby. Rather than immediately visit the Black family vault, however, she made her way to a random goblin sitting at a desk. "Hello," said Bellatrix. "I need to speak to a contract goblin." A brief staring contest ensued, but Bellatrix won by tacking another phrase onto her request. "If you would be so kind."

Severely annoyed at being interrupted in such an informal matter, the goblin glared balefully at Bellatrix before leading her to a rather small office at the end of a dark hallway. The desk goblin gestured for her to enter the office before abandoning her.

The contract goblin in the cramped office was a young male. Though he clearly desired to maintain the professional, hostile aloofness that more senior goblins regularly did, he ultimately rewarded Bellatrix with his kindest smile before offering her the seat in front of his desk. The seat was designed for other goblins and thus left Bellatrix uncomfortable and practically staring at the goblin from between her knees.

"What is it that you require, Miss?" the goblin asked.

"I'm looking to buy a piece of Muggle real estate," Bellatrix announced. "I'll need a proper contract that is recognized by the Ministry and the Muggle authorities. If you could draw something up, and I'll fill in the blanks once I've decided on the property."

"You know the proper way to register the purchase and title deeds once the transaction is complete?" the goblin inquired.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, silently thanking fate that her father had regularly purchased and sold real estate. It was irregular for a customer to conduct real estate business quite so independent of Gringotts, but sometimes it was useful-at least her father had occasionally benefitted from such a situation, though the goblins were never fond of seeing potential work taken out of their hands in such a way. "I'd also appreciate if you could draw up sub-lease contracts. There's a possibility I might rent out part of the property to Muggles."

The goblin raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

"I would of course appreciate it if the bank managed the leasing side of things," Bellatrix rushed to inform the goblin. "It's just that I might need to get things signed more quickly than the bank could move."

"Very well," the goblin agreed, sounding placated. "Is there anything else?"

"Er… yes," Bellatrix said, hesitating slightly. Her next request was highly irregular, but she reckoned that it might later come in handy and save a great deal of hassle-at least once she brought Harry around to her way of thinking. "I'd like you to draw up a marriage contract."

"Really?" the goblin said, almost disbelievingly.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, blushing slightly in response to the goblin's surprised demeanor. She rushed on and explained the details to the goblin. "The bride in question is a scion of House Black."

The goblin held up his hand to stop her. "Let me write this down," he said as he searched out a blank parchment and his quill. "All right, go ahead."

"Like I said, the bride is a member of House Black," Bellatrix repeated.

"Okay."

"The groom's heritage is irrelevant," Bellatrix continued. "Upon the execution of the marriage, he will take the surname Black."

"Wait, so the groom takes the bride's name instead of the other way around?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix.

"What is the groom's name, then?" the goblin asked.

"Leave it blank," Bellatrix instructed. "I'll fill that in myself." She then went on to detail the rest of the requirements for the contract, specifying that it would be signed by the Head of House Black. This made the goblin happy, for the presence of Lord Black's signature on the document, in addition to the signatures of the bride and groom, would go far toward simplifying the provisions Bellatrix had requested.

"How soon do you need copies of your contracts?" the goblin asked once she was finished.

"As soon as possible," Bellatrix requested. "Perhaps before I leave the bank today?"

The goblin sighed deeply. "Very well. Would you prefer to wait here or in the lobby?"

"The lobby," Bellatrix said. "I'll meet you there when you are finished."

With that, she made arrangements to pay the goblin for his services and then exited the cramped office and found another goblin willing to show her down to the Black vault. In the vault, she deposited the basilisk ingredients, deciding that selling them too soon would inflate supply and decrease demand. In fact, she was concerned that Harry's most recent sale of the first batch might still be affecting the market. She then picked out a number of Black heirloom books before returning to the lobby.

She waited there for a time until the contract goblin appeared with her contracts in hand. She briefly inspected each contract and was satisfied. "Thank you," she said peremptorily. "Now, I have one last question."

"Yes, Miss?"

"Once the required signatures are on the marriage document, the marriage is in force, correct?"

"Well, yes, or at least as soon as you return a duplicate copy to Gringotts for us to register with the proper Ministry authorities," the goblin said.

"Perfect," Bellatrix declared, pocketing the contracts.

At the hour dinner was scheduled to end, Alastor Moody was waiting for Professor Dumbledore at the entrance to the headmaster's office. As the auror had supposed, Dumbledore did arrive at his office once completing his meal.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling, "you've finally found the time to come and visit me."

"Things have been busy at the Ministry," Moody said gruffly, following the headmaster as the guarding gargoyle leapt aside and allowed entrance into the office. The pair ascended the stairs and the two men were soon seated within the confines of the circular office.

"What news from the Ministry?" Albus inquired, helping himself to a lemon drop and motioning for Moody to do likewise should he feel the urge.

"Prewitt is in for sure," Moody declared. "All that needs doing is to make it official."

"And who will succeed Prewitt as Director?" Dumbledore inquired.

Moody leaned back into his chair and sighed. "I'm getting the vibe that it will be Bartemius Crouch."

"Crouch," Dumbledore repeated with a frown. "Not quite the most desirable candidate."

"Prewitt is probably aiming for a zealot rather than an on-the-ground fighter," Moody observed. "As long as Prewitt looks over Crouch's shoulder on a regular basis, I think he will prove a strong influence in the coming difficulties."

Dumbledore sat thoughtfully, absorbing Moody's comments and contemplating the possibility of a Director Crouch. Finally he shook his head a little bit as if to reorient himself and refocused on Moody. "Have you any other news?"

Moody's lips curved into a smile that seemed unintentionally grim. "I cornered Ashworth the other night. Mostly it was for official Ministry business-his statement about the death of Minister Black. Off the record, though, I got him to give me a little extra information. He has revealed to me the name of our dark lord."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore said, smiling. "What is it?"

Moody produced a small slip of parchment and slid it across the table. "Ashworth is nervous about actually saying the name aloud. Apparently the Blacks feel that this fellow can hear his name being used."

"Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said out loud, reading the parchment.

"I guess your opinion differs," Moody observed.

Professor Dumbledore shrugged. "The Blacks may be correct, but one must weigh the consequences, I think."

Moody shrugged. "So should I feel nervous saying it or not?"

"Well," Dumbledore said, "maybe if you're trying to sneak up on him, you should avoid saying it." His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you should avoid saying anything at all if you're trying to be sneaky." His face turned more serious as he set the small slip of parchment on the desk. "I want you to get as much information from Ashworth as you can-even if it means asking him to stick his neck out to gather intelligence. Don't unnecessarily endanger his life, but keep in mind we've got to draw on any advantage he can give us."

"Right," said Moody as he nodded in agreement. "I've already made arrangements. He's promised to try and dig some more information up on this creep's past."

"Good," said Dumbledore, staring thoughtfully at the wall beyond Moody. "It may interest you to know, Alastor, that Bellatrix Black left Hogwarts today."

"Did she now?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She walked out while the rest of the school was having lunch."

"She isn't the first student you've had leave this term, is it?" Moody said.

Dumbledore nodded. "A number of Slytherin's left. I presume they joined Lord Voldemort's ranks. Now, Bellatrix Black, a Slytherin at heart, has left to join Harry Ashworth's ranks. The parallel is interesting, to say the least."

"How are you so sure she joined Ashworth?" Moody asked.

"I spoke with her younger sister Narcissa. She was extremely reticent, but she implied that my contacting Bellatrix's mother about the situation would be useless. Apparently, there's been a falling out. That, and other factors I am aware of, leads me to believe that Bellatrix is with Mr. Ashworth."

Moody nodded thoughtfully and scratched his chin. "So, what precisely are you trying to tell me?"

"When you sit down to chat with Harry Ashworth, remember that Miss Black's wand will likely be pointed at your back."

Thorpe, now Harry's good drinking buddy, laughed uproariously and slapped Harry on the back before tipping up a mug of ale and downing it. Likewise, Harry lifted his mug and pretended to drink its contents, having previously used his wand to surreptitiously vanish the liquid. Nearly simultaneously, the two slammed their mugs down on a table.

Slumping in his chair, Thorpe tried to get comfortable. Harry also shifted in his chair and then leaned back against the wall. Trying not to be obvious, he scanned the pub, looking for anyone new, or someone he had already observed, acting suspicious. There was no one. This annoyed Harry. If the Death Eaters had once recruited from this pub for help to find Harry Ashworth, surely they would be continuing the practice, especially seeing as they had completely failed to find Harry Ashworth thus far. Perhaps he needed to frequent a wider circle of pubs.

"Well, D, the wife is going to be wanting me home," Thorpe told Harry. He looked like he was going to cry at the thought.

"That bad, eh?" Harry said, smiling slightly at how Thorpe refused to call him Big D. Harry simply wasn't big enough to pass as the true "Big D."

"Ah, it's nothing," Thorpe said, patting Harry's shoulder as if Harry was the bereaved. "Everything will be all right."

"I'm sure it will be," Harry said, putting on a look of courageousness. He made a show of checking the time and glancing at the barkeep who was trying to be obvious about cleaning the bar and beverage glasses. "I'd better get home myself."

Thorpe nodded firmly. "All right, D. I'm going to stick around for one last round. Be careful apparating. Don't want to splinch yourself."

"Of course," Harry said, wondering how it was that Thorpe was going to get home without splinching himself. Perhaps he would use a portkey or the floo. Harry stood, settled his bill with the barkeep, and then exited the pub.

Though it was quite late at night, Knockturn Alley was still awake. Rather than bustling however, the crowds, as it were, oozed about, sticking to shadows and alleyways. Harry covertly checked to make sure he was ready to draw his wand at a moment's notice before joining with the shadows and slowly making his way to a point in Diagon Alley where he could quietly apparate away. Just in case he was followed, he made several stops, one at Moody's lamppost, before arriving in the vicinity of his most recent hotel.

A quick wave of his wand removed his "Big D" disguise, and a few moments later he was walking through the halls of the hotel, fumbling in his pocket for his room key. Keeping in mind that Bellatrix was likely asleep by now, Harry inserted the key into the door quietly with the intent to avoid waking her up.

However, upon entering the room, he discovered that the lights were on and the television was blaring loudly. Closing the door behind him, Harry surveyed the room. File folders and papers were neatly organized over the top of nearly every flat surface, the floor included. Bellatrix, wearing pajama shorts and a camisole top, was perched cross-legged on Harry's bed, holding a bag a potato crisps.

Upon seeing Harry enter the room, she broke her concentration on the television and grinned at him. "I thought you'd be later than this."

Not sure what to say, Harry glanced around the hotel room again, this time taking a look into the bathroom. The counter was covered with her cosmetic and hygiene materials. She well and truly had taken over the room. He looked back to where she was sitting on his bed. "That's my bed," he said dumbly, glancing to the other bed and seeing that it was covered with documents and folders.

Bellatrix shrugged. "There's still plenty of room for you." She smiled at him invitingly.

Harry drew his wand and used it to remove the junk from the other bed, piling it crossways over the other folders on the floor and desk. "This one will be okay," he said before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

As soon as the door was closed, he leaned back on it and closed his eyes, thinking of her violet eyes, long black hair, and beautiful legs, not to mention her curves. She was very appealing, and Harry was very tempted. How easy it would be to start up with her. The situation practically demanded it now that they were living together. However, if things went bad, ending the relationship would not be pretty. Her young age also made Harry nervous, in addition to the fact that she was Bellatrix. Though she wasn't the insane witch who had killed Sirius and whom he had attempted to hit with the Crucio curse, it was hard to disassociate her face from the situations and feelings.

Silently, Harry vowed that he wouldn't cross the line with her until he was absolutely sure that it was the right thing to do and that he was willing to commit to that path. With that, he did his business and changed into his pajamas before returning to the room proper. When he did, he found that Bellatrix had switched off the telly and was waiting for him just outside the door.

"I scouted out a number of properties we could buy and have been sorting through them," she announced, explaining all of the paperwork that had been lying around the room. "I was thinking we could go together and pick something out tomorrow. That sound good?"

"Yeah," said Harry, beginning to feel rather sleepy.

Bellatrix seemed pleased, but she wasn't finished. "What were you out doing?"

Briefly, Harry explained his trip to the pub and his plan to track down the specific Death Eater or Death Eaters looking for him.

"I hope that isn't your main priority," Bellatrix commented. "Not that it is a bad idea. It just isn't exactly something that addresses Tom directly."

"It isn't," Harry assured her. "I've got plans for Tom."

"All right," Bellatrix said, stepping past him into the bathroom and closing the door.

Harry stubbornly kept his eyes closed, despite the fact that it took Bellatrix nearly ten minutes to figure out how to shut off the Muggle alarm clock-the same clock she had apparently had no trouble setting to go off at six in the morning. He did not intend to get out of bed until nine. It was a noble, albeit difficult goal. She left the bathroom door open so that he could hear her hum various tunes in the shower, and then once she had dressed for the day, puttered around the apartment sorting through her real estate papers.

At eight, it became impossible for Harry to continue drowsing. Bellatrix sat cross-legged on the half of Harry's bed in which he was not sleeping. Holding her bag of potato crisps, she slowly munched on one crisp after another. Though Harry was keeping his eyes closed, he could feel her staring at him. He gave up and opened his eyes. As he had guessed, she was staring directly at him.

"Good morning!" she said brightly.

"Morning," Harry replied, doing his best to hide his irritation.

It didn't take him very long to shower and get dressed. They stopped at a small restaurant for some breakfast before Bellatrix started them on their journey to find a more permanent home. The speed and efficiency with which Bellatrix whisked the two of them to different sites throughout Britain was quite impressive.

Upon arriving at each potential location, Bellatrix would walk slowly around the property, weighing its merits in terms of how easily she could ward the place. Many of the locations were dismissed as being unacceptable on this factor alone. However, if the location did pass this initial test, they found a way to take a tour of the inside. Sometimes this involved contacting the agent listed for the property. More often, they were fortunate enough to find the seller at home and willing to show them around. Occasionally, they had to result to a simple unlocking spell.

Eventually, Harry noticed that each location they visited shared some basic characteristics. Specifically, he had realized that each of Bellatrix's proposed purchases did not initially resemble what people would identify as being a residence. They were searching through properties that were primarily commercial or industrial.

"Why haven't we looked at a normal house?" he asked. "Or even a basic flat in a high-rise?"

"The last thing I need is some nosy Muggle saying to herself that her good friends the Joneses used to live in the residence between the Johnsons and Smiths," Bellatrix said as she opened a closet and looked around. She shut the door and walked down the hall of the property they were examining. "The first step to effectively warding a property is finding one that hasn't been noticed by anybody in a while."

"I see," Harry said. "Well, I don't like this one. It smells funny."

"Yeah, I had pretty much already come to that conclusion," Bellatrix replied. She looked out the window and waved down to where the property's slightly crippled real estate agent was waiting for them. "I suppose you'll want to properly say goodbye to him, won't you?"

"He was nice enough to let us in," Harry retorted, making his way to the exit.

They stopped briefly for lunch in Leeds. The property there turned out to be a dud, so they moved on to Manchester. In a street rather close to the town center, they found a three-story building standing on a corner. It was older and made from brick. The ground floor was split into three storefronts, two of which were currently vacant. The third was a specialty book shop. Above the shops were two floors. Though only three stories, the building was quite tall because the first and second floors were one and a half times bigger than the average story. The third floor on the top was the normal height for a story.

Harry yawned while Bellatrix busied herself with calculating whether she could put wards over the place. Soon, she had determined that it was indeed possible to ward the place to her liking. Excitedly, she suggested that they find the local agency that had listed the property.

"I'm sensing that you like this one better than anything we've seen thus far," Harry said.

"It's perfect," Bellatrix told him. "We'll be able to collect rent from the tenants in the shops on the ground floor. Then, when we find tenants to fill up the two vacant shops, we can leave them with the impression that the third tenant has access to the upper floors and vice-versa."

"If the inside is worth anything," Harry said, "I guess we can go for it."

The inside did prove to be very nice. The second floor was spacious, and nearly every room boasted a large window. The third floor was quite cluttered and not nearly as attractive despite its very open space that had no walls. It had apparently always been used as storage for the former residents. Harry observed that ironically, it seemed very much like a basement rather than the top floor of a building.

Bellatrix, however, seemed to like the third floor very much. "I could keep all of my clutter up here," she declared to Harry. "It could be my workshop for different projects."

Harry agreed that this would be a very good use for the third floor. There was more than enough space on the second floor for them both to live comfortably, and he had already observed that Bellatrix had a tendency to spread out her things when working on something.

Consequently, they soon found themselves signing papers at the real estate agent's office. The agent was surprised, but agreeable when Bellatrix produced her own contract from a pocket. Harry and Bellatrix signed as co-owners of the property, though the majority of the money came from Harry's fortune. Bellatrix quietly reassured Harry that she'd pay for furnishings. Harry shrugged it off and told her that he'd reimburse her for the furniture as well and not to worry about it. This seemed to make her very happy.

Lightning flashed across the dark sky, and in the distance, thunder sounded. Through the burned-out ruins of Malfoy Manor, Harry looked up to the sky and winced. Rain was bound to follow that, though that was not what bothered Harry. It was that the sky had darkened significantly earlier than he had anticipated. He did not want to be caught looting the Malfoy family safe by any Death Eaters at night.

The chance of meeting Death Eaters had been only a minor concern when he arrived at the Malfoy property, but discovering the presence of recently-erected dark wards had signaled to Harry that the property had not been neglected since the death of Romulus Malfoy. Fortunately, one could not ward the Malfoy property against the Malfoy family ring that Harry now possessed. However, that did not make Harry immune from other traps or obstacles-not that he had yet to discover any, but he had been wary.

Rain began to sprinkle down on Harry, and he sighed. Briefly, he considered casting a charm over the area to shield him, but decided against it after looking down into the Malfoy vault and wondering if any of the dark artifacts could be triggered. There were still enough dark artifacts to fill two more of the special cases Bellatrix had sent along with instructions for handling unknown dark artifacts and complaints about Harry not bringing her along.

Harry hopped down into the vault and ran his eyes over the remaining dark artifacts. She wouldn't be very happy about this rain, he told himself. Besides, she seemed happier arranging the new furniture across the apartment . Still, he scolded himself, he needed to utilize her or she'd become frustrated. Then, he'd risk losing her help.

Spotting a tome that was oozing blood, Harry reached out with a dragonhide-gauntleted hand and picked it up. He then threw it over the edge of the vault opening. He heard it land with a thud near one of the special cases. A gold trinket resembling something that might be found in Professor Dumbledore's office was gently set on the edge. Below some books and wooden boxes, Harry found a what appeared to be a pensieve bowl, though the substance floating in it certainly did not resemble anything Harry had ever seen. Gingerly, Harry set it on opening's edge, climbed out of the vault, and wasted no time packing the artifacts into another case before shrinking it and placing it in his pocket with the other cases he already had packed. That left one more to go. It looked like the remaining artifacts would fit in it.

Realizing that the artifacts he had just packed had been liberally rained upon, Harry opted to take the remaining case into the vault with him and pack it. Now that the vault was mostly empty, it was a viable option.

Just as he was halfway through with packing the final case, Harry heard the tell-tale pop of apparition. Silently cursing, he tried his best to calculate the location from where the popping noise had come. Guessing based on direction, Harry reckoned it was probably what had been the front hall of the manor-one of the places a normal visitor to the manor might have apparated before it had been destroyed.

Thankfully, the sky had only barely darkened, thus Harry had not had time to make himself any light. Nimbly, he finished packing the last case, shrunk it, and placed it in his pocket all while he strained his ears, listening for any movement.

"Ashworth!" a voice exclaimed.

Harry shifted his gaze just in time to see Rodolphus Lestrange hurl a cutting hex at him from above. Fortunately, the movement of his head and consequently his torso saved Harry from serious injury, though the hex did graze his size. A warm trickle told Harry that he was bleeding.

Harry deftly cast a stunner that was followed up with a number of minor jinxes. Rodolphus dodged these easily, but that had been what Harry had expected. Just when Rodolphus seemed most distracted, Harry nailed him with a severe dizziness charm. While the up-and-coming Death Eater reeled, Harry scrambled out of the Malfoy floor vault.

Though obviously still dizzy, Rodolphus managed to get off a number of stunners that Harry easily dodged before peppering Rodolphus with more minor spells. He then finished the barrage up with an "Expelliarmus!" This left Harry holding Rodolphus's wand.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry said, holding his wand steady on Lestrange.

"Where is she?" Rodolphus demanded, changing the topic.

"Where is who?" Harry replied, knowing full well the answer.

"Where did you take Bellatrix?"

Harry smiled and shrugged. "You should know by now that nobody takes Bellatrix anywhere."

"You know what I meant!" Rodolphus snarled as he glared at Harry's wand. "You treacherous blood traitor!"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "That was redundant."

Snarling, Rodolphus jerked his wand arm and suddenly, he had another wand in his hand-a spare, apparently. Reflexively, Harry cast a banishing spell which sent Lestrange flying through the air and into a pile of rubble. Not wanting to risk further confrontation and realizing that Malfoy Manor had already been destroyed once, Harry unleashed fiendfyre in the general direction he had banished Rodolphus. He then fled.

Within moments, he had escaped beyond the dark wards that the Death Eaters had apparently erected. Feeling that he was now in the clear to apparate, Harry turned back to glance at the light and shadows caused by his fiendfyre. He popped away and found himself in London. A few more pops around the country and he was within walking distance of his and Bellatrix's new property in Manchester.

Luckily for Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and all other Death Eaters vaguely associated with them, Voldemort was very mellow and pensive when Rodolphus was required to report on the fact that the Malfoy floor safe had been looted by Harry Ashworth. Or rather, Voldemort was doing his best to maintain an outward appearance of being calm. The truth was that his face and hands were still in pain from the burns Romulus Malfoy had inflicted. Consequently, showing emotion was still a costly exercise. Voldemort's new strategy for coping with the pain in the presence of his followers was to stand in the shadows near a darkened window. That way, he could pace around, give a sense of strength, and still hide his face.

"And so, I drew my spare wand on him. His reaction was fiendfyre," Rodolphus said. He then concluded his tale with an explanation of how he had struggled to extinguish the fiendfyre and then with an account of how the safe had been opened and empty.

"Fiendfyre," Voldemort repeated quietly. "Mr. Ashworth does seem to have an affinity for fire, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Rodolphus agreed, even though he didn't have a clue what would prompt Voldemort to say that.

"I wasn't talking to you," Voldemort said shortly.

Rodolphus winced, but remained silent.

"I want the efforts to locate and apprehend Ashworth doubled," Voldemort declared. "It is clear to me that he has stolen the Malfoy gold and many of the Malfoy treasures. Other facts suggest that he has meddled with the affairs of the Black family-or intends to, anyway. If he is not neutralized soon, he will become a significant liability to our cause.