Echoes of Destiny: Harry and Bellatrix's Second Chance

"Are you sure letting Ashworth walk away is a good idea?"

Orion glanced over the newspaper he was reading. Casting the copy of the Daily Prophet aside, the Black patriarch took a few moments to compose a reply. "I believe him when he says that he wants to fight this dark lord. And we have no reason to doubt Bellatrix's word that the dark lord exists."

"Still… he's a pretty big unknown quantity," Malfoy noted as he sat staring into the fireplace. The evening was devoid of drink, for a change, and the living room at the Black mansion had been easily restored after Orion's duel with the young wizard.

"And?" Orion prompted.

"And it's not uncommon for dark wizards to disguise themselves, to act like ordinary citizens until the time comes to strike. The smart ones, the powerful ones, anyway. They didn't get to be that powerful by being careless and stupid. That's for the masses of followers they tend to attract. No, they're usually cunning and discreet." Malfoy turned his gaze away from the flames.

"You think Ashworth may be the dark lord?" Orion chuckled. "Whatever he is, I am sure he's not… Tom. Not when Bellatrix so clearly met this dark lord character with Ashworth standing next to her."

"Not the dark lord himself, no, but one of his lieutenants. I can believe that," Malfoy admitted. "He's smart, he's mysterious. He appears on the scene right as this threat begins to rise. What if he's playing us all?"

"He's got the talent, I'll admit that, and it would make sense, of a sort," Orion acknowledged his peer's concerns. "And you're right; the scheduling is just a little too convenient for it to be entirely coincidence. But his anger seems real. You can't fake such a strong reaction. I believe him when he says that he will fight against this dark lord. However, I will keep an eye on him. There's much anger in him, justified anger, but you and I both know that that's a very fine line that's easily crossed."

"I suppose. But I'd feel better if we had a contingency plan, just in case."

Orion nodded. "Indeed, and I have a few things in mind. Rest assured that if Ashworth becomes a liability, he will be dealt with."

"All right, I'll leave it in your hands, then."

"There's something else on your mind?" Orion sounded almost amused.

Malfoy smirked knowingly. "You're not letting those fools from the Wizengamot select a candidate for Minister, are you?"

"Merlin's beard, no." Orion shook his head curtly. "They would just bicker amongst themselves about who'd be most beneficial to them . No, that entire meeting was just to ingratiate ourselves with them. However, we need to find someone to which they will not be able to object. Someone who, nevertheless, will be willing to follow our agenda."

"That's not an easy thing to ask, Orion. Any outsider we brought in on this would have to be informed about the developing situation with the dark lord. After they've passed rigorous screening, of course."

"I was actually thinking of keeping things… closer to home," the elder wizard explained quietly. "We need someone we can trust unconditionally, which excludes anyone who's not a part of our families. If things escalate with this dark wizard, then we'll be fighting another war, and I for one do not want to be relying on someone whose motives I am uncertain of to direct this war for me."

"Then I assume you had someone in mind already?"

Orion nodded. "My brother, Cygnus. He has no ties to politics or any of the politicians, no political agenda, no history they could take advantage of, either to argue for or against him. He is, however, a successful businessman, well-liked, and we can use that to our advantage."

"And he'll be absolutely loyal to our cause," Malfoy finished.

"Correct." Orion's gaze hardened. "The wizarding world cannot take another war like the last one against Grindelwald. It must not be allowed to come that far."

"I agree," Malfoy nodded. "Have you talked to him about it at all?"

"Not yet. I was planning on doing that tonight, at least until I got distracted by the matter with Ashworth."

"I see. So, what's your impression of him? Aside from the obvious question of his trustworthiness, that is," Malfoy inquired.

"Like I said, he's skilled, certainly. His fighting methods are… strange, but his reflexes and spatial awareness tell me that he's been in combat before, probably mass combat, like the kind of open warfare we fought against Grindelwald's forces. His duelling skills are atrocious, not because he lacks the talent, but because he clearly hasn't been trained, but he makes up for that with very skillful use of terrain." Orion frowned as he recalled the battle.

"Something else bothering you about him?"

"His spells. You and I both know that there's a very specific set of combat spells that are taught to each Auror and Unspeakable. Then there's the dark spells. He knew none of these."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow in interest. "So we've got an unknown quantity who's clearly been in combat, yet has not been combat trained at all?"

"So it would appear. And somehow, he is still alive, which speaks for his sense of tactics, though I get the impression that most of it comes to him intuitively."

"I don't know if that'll make him easy or difficult to combat, if it comes down to it," Malfoy admitted.

"I would rather err on the side of caution. I get the impression that young Ashworth would prove to be a formidable enemy on the battlefield, if only because of his stubbornness."

Malfoy grinned. "Which makes him a perfect match for your niece, doesn't it? I hear he's been driving her up the wall."

"So it would appear." Though he showed no outward signs of it, Malfoy could detect the slight change in timbre of his old friend's voice that indicated his amusement.

"In any case," Orion continued, "should Ashworth turn out to be on the wrong side when this conflict begins, then we have enough official reasons to detain him."

"I'm worried, Albus."

"About what, Minerva?" Wizened old eyes stared at his colleague over silver-rimmed glasses as they sat in the headmaster's office.

"This Ashworth fellow," the witch began, "he seems a nice enough person, and he's certainly competent, but surely you've heard the rumours that have been going around the castle lately."

"Rumors, Minerva?" There was an amused twinkle in the depths of the headmaster's silver eyes. "I had not pegged you for someone who paid heed to the grapevine."

"I don't, normally," the silver-haired Transfiguration mistress acknowledged, "but this one has been persisting for a while."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded sagely as he reached for a lemon drop. Popping his favorite candy into his mouth, he enjoyed the flavor for a moment. "You're referring to the rumours about Mr. Ashworth and Miss Black having an illicit affair? Lemon drop?"

"That's the one," McGonagall confirmed as shook her head to turn down the yellow confection. The deputy headmistress only barely managed to avoid shuddering in revulsion at the thought of lemon drops - she had tried them once, fifty-odd years ago, at Dumbledore's insistence, and the memory haunted her to this day. They were just so… so sweet . Utterly, beyond-sugary, disgustingly sweet. It made her wonder why they were called lemon drops if they didn't even taste like lemons, or anything remotely sour, for that matter, at all.

"I think it's harmless."

"Really, Albus? From what I hear, Ashworth is taking leave of the castle at odd hours. And even during the day and in between classes, he seems to be spending an unusual amount of time with Miss Black. In his office, in private."

The ancient wizard noted with interest that she seemed almost offended by this idea. McGonagall had been one of the faculty who had not been particularly fond of the board appointing Harry as Slughorn's replacement for the school year. "I understand that they are spending quite a bit of time together, but do keep in mind, they are close in age, and she is the first friend he made in this country. That does not necessarily mean there's anything going on between them."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," McGonagall muttered. "They're close in age, and I've seen the way she looks at him. And even more, the way he looks at her ! He looks at her with this… this thoughtful, absent look. I know that look!"

"Do you, now?" Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Be that as it may, is there any substance to those rumours?"

"Not that I can tell, but you have to admit there's something unusual between those two."

"They're friends, Minerva. I would assume that, since the rumour has not yet faded, they are indeed closer than usual for faculty and student, but given their circumstances, I can understand that, certainly," Dumbledore noted absently. "I think we should give them the benefit of the doubt."

"I still want to keep an eye on things. I mean, I've caught Ashworth leaving the castle at odd hours at night." The witch frowned. "And he was quite evasive when I asked him where he was going. Said he wanted to get some air."

"Understandable. He's young. I imagine he feels rather constrained within the castle. And since his quarters are here, he doesn't have anywhere else to go but out."

"I still think we should do something about-" McGonagall looked up sharply. "Albus! Are you even listening?"

Dumbledore blinked and nodded automatically. "Of course, Minerva."

"Good," the deputy headmistress said, "because if you were about to doze off…" she left the sentence unfinished.

"Good heavens, no, Minverva, I'd never do that to you."

"Good," she repeated.

"Be that as it may, I think for now it is best if we give them both the benefit of the doubt, and carry on as usual. If there is anything going on between those two that violates school rules, I am sure we will find out soon enough."

McGonagall shook her head. "I'd rather nip it in the bud before it becomes a problem. We don't need the board to come down on us again and interfere with the way the school is being run, Albus."

"Then I am sure you will keep an eye on the situation, and let me know if something develops." Dumbledore smiled at her graciously.

"Naturally." McGonagall rose from her chair. "If you'll excuse me, I have a class I must get to."

"Of course, Minerva. I will see you at dinner?"

With a curt nod, the elderly witch departed the room. The moment she left, Dumbledore dropped the airhead façade and sagged in his chair. Part of him wanted to tell her he agreed with her suspicions, only that he didn't think Harry and Bellatrix were lovers. There were things going on in the wizarding world that he was sure were connected to the abrupt arrival of one Harry Ashworth, but he had no idea what those things were. As it was, it was too early to voice his suspicions to any of his staff, even his most trusted ones.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Moody stumbled through the fireplace, coughing and patting the soot from his robes as he entered.

Dumbledore shrugged nonchalantly and gestured towards the chair that McGonagall had just vacated. "I'm afraid you would need a small fortune, if I were to list them all."

"That bad, eh?" The auror grumbled as he sat down and made a face when the headmaster offered him a lemon drop. "No thanks, I try to stay away from those."

"Oh well." The elder wizard shrugged again.

"I assume you've heard the news?"

"Which?"

Pulling a copy of the Daily Prophet from his robes, Moody flipped the paper open and handed the page over. "These. They've named a candidate to take Thornton's place if the motion goes through."

"Hmm…" Dumbledore skimmed through the pages. "Cygnus Black?"

"There's something fishy going on there, I tell you." Retrieving a flask from within his robes, Moody took a long swig from it. "First they put forward a vote of no confidence, then this. Especially considering who spearheaded the vote."

"If I recall, that was Davian Prewitt, wasn't it?"

"Who's a friend of Orion Black's. You can bet that old manipulative bastard is pulling Prewitt's strings," Moody grumbled.

Shaking his head, the headmaster put the paper down. "Not necessarily. I know Davian Prewitt. He may be one of the old guard, like Orion Black, but he's not an easy man to fool. Nor is he easy to manipulate."

"Then maybe he's in on it. But don't you find it a little too convenient that we're running into the Blacks so much these days?"

Dumbledore took a moment to think about it, and realized that the auror was right. "Indeed. It is rather curious, but one has to wonder what they are trying to achieve with this."

"I'm willing to bet you that that Ashworth fellow is in it, somehow. I don't know how they're linked, but he must've started it all. Everything went crazy the moment he showed up."

"Now, I wouldn't exactly say things are going crazy right now," Dumbledore replied mildly. "But you are right, I wonder how everything is connected. Young Mr. Ashworth's sudden appearance and appointment to Hogwarts, and now this motion before the Wizengamot."

"You think they might be taking over? I couldn't help but notice there's nothing but purebloods sponsoring that motion." Moody glanced up from his flask. "By the way, check page three. Another couple of young purebloods causing some trouble."

"I see." Dumbleore rifled to the appropriate page and skimmed the article. "Realistically, while I wouldn't put it past Orion Black to put something like this into motion, I don't believe that he has anything to do with these incidents. Violence like this isn't his style."

"And it's mighty convenient that he's trying to push his brother into office."

"I would be careful with that," the headmaster cautioned. "While you might suspect Orion Black is behind the vote of no confidence against Minister Thornton, there is nothing you can do to prove it. Even then, he's not doing anything illegal. The evidence that was put forth is pretty incriminating."

"Nothing that'd hold up in court," Moody snorted.

"No, but it does raise valid questions about the Minister's allegiance. In either case, it would be best if she is removed from office long enough for this matter to be resolved. If it turns out to be just some clerical error, then no harm is done, but I see the wisdom in the motion."

"What do you think their position is on this whole mess their kids are getting into?"

Dumbledore shrugged and folded up the newspaper. "I like to believe he's too smart to involve himself with that. Also, one or two isolated incidents might be coincidence, but this many in this short a time? And all of them happening so suddenly, with no warning? I can't help but think there's more to it than that."

"And somehow the Blacks are involved."

"Undoubtedly. I am sure Orion Black knows of what's going on. Perhaps he is even involved somehow, but until we know more, we can't really plan a proper course of action. Even if they are attempting a pureblood takeover."

"Couldn't you just post your own candidate?"

"We could," Dumbledore acknowledged, gently stroking his beard. "However, at this point, I don't see much point in doing so. It would just complicate matters, and delay a new leadership from taking office. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen soon, and no matter who's in office, having someone taking the reigns will be better than having the entirety of the Wizengamot divided about whom should be sitting in that chair."

Moody growled as he realized his flask was empty. "Hrm. Need ot put a spell of bottomless bottle on this thing. What if Black's behind this whole thing? Wouldn't it be best to put someone other than his chosen one in office, just in case he's trying to play us?"

"Then we will deal with it when the time comes. I do believe, though, that Orion Black, shifty and manipulative as he may be, has, in some twisted version of honor, the good of the wizarding world at heart. He was one of the greatest supporters of the war against Grindelwald, despite the fact that their beliefs lined up exactly."

"I suppose," Moody admitted grudgingly. The Black family had been one of the leading forces in the struggle against Grindelwald, even before the conflict had escalated into outright war. Despite the fact that they were a pureblood family, Orion Black was a smart enough man to realize what was going on in the wizarding world, and he had quickly seen that Grindelwald's ambition would tear the wizarding world apart if he went unopposed. In a way, the Blacks were one of the more liberal families in the wizarding world, if such a word could be applied.

The decision to embrace all of magic, including the magicks that were in the hazy grey zone between what the Ministry labelled "good" and "evil" as well as their decision to support the involvement of muggles in the wizarding world had alienated the Blacks from many other families. Dumbledore had to admit that it was a controversial stance to take, one that raised many questions, but one that he could respect Orion Black for taking. It was quite a paradoxical view, the headmaster noted to himself; the Blacks were a typical family with their belief that their heritage entitled them to more than the average wizard, and especially muggles. On the other hand Orion knew that without fresh blood the wizarding world was doomed in the long run.

"How do you think Ashworth is involved?" Moody asked suddenly, tearing the older wizard from his thoughts.

"I think your initial suspicions of him may have been correct, and that he is, in fact, an agent of either Messrs Black or Malfoy, but I have to wonder why they would entrust such a delicate task to someone unknown to them," the headmaster replied slowly.

Moody snorted. "Maybe it's not so unimportant, after all."

"Oh, but I think it is. Neither Orion Black nor Romulus Malfoy ever does something just for the sake of doing it. If they have assigned one of their agents to Hogwarts, then they have done so for a reason." Dumbledore reached for another lemon drop.

"So, what are you going to do about the whole vote of no confidence thing?"

"I will, of course, pass my vote at the Wizengamot, along with the recommendation to resolve this matter swiftly." Another lemon drop. "And I will keep an eye on Mr. Cygnus Black once he is situated in office. As to the young purebloods who are causing all these incidents, I believe the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is capable of handling it."

"Of course," Moody grunted derisively. "These drunk hooligans are no match for even a trainee."

"Good, then so far everything appears to be under control. Please do let me know if you find out something."

"Sure." The auror stood and left through the fireplace, leaving the headmaster alone in his office.

Rubbing his temples, Dumbledore sighed in annoyance. Orion Black was a master manipulator, and trying to unravel any plans of his inevitably ended up in a headache. The headmaster reached for another lemon drop, only to find the bowl empty. With a tortured groan, he sank deeper into his plush armchair.

It was going to be one of those days.

The scratching of a quill on parchment was the only thing that could be heard in the room. Then a sigh and the flutter of paper as another scroll joined the "done" stack on the right of the desk. The next was summoned from the seemingly never-ending pile of "yet to do," and unrolled on the desk, and the laborious task of grading the essay was started anew.

Harry Potter hated grading essays.

It was part of his daily grind as a faculty at Hogwarts; a boring reprieve from reading up on current and past events and trying to figure out how to best approach the situation. Harry was used to waging war - what he wasn't used to was having to lead it. The quill stilled, and Harry suddenly realized his hand was shaking as the reality of the situation hit him. Here he was, trying to change the course of history and attempting to take on one of the most feared dark wizards of all times, in a battle of magic and wits. And if that wasn't enough, then there was everyone else whom he would have to outmaneuver - Dumbledore, the Blacks, the Malfoys… and Bellatrix.

The thought of out-manipulating any one of these master manipulators alone would have been ludicrous, but here he was taking them all on at the same time. What am I thinking? he thought to himself as he forced his hand to stop shaking. Did he really think he could succeed? What was he even trying to accomplish? Now that things were in motion and he had the time to think things through, Harry realized that he had no idea what he was doing in the past. Was he trying to kill Voldemort, prevent his rise to power?

And then what? With Voldemort dead, where would that leave him? He was stuck in a time he knew nothing about, in a universe that was no longer his own. Alone. What would he do then? Harry held no illusions that once his usefulness ended, so would his affiliation with the Blacks and Malfoys. How was he going to live, earn a living? Was he even willing to? Aside from Bellatrix, he had no real friends, no one he could fully trust.

That thought brought him up short. Trust? Bellatrix? It was a notion that would've been utterly laughable to him just a few months ago, before his trip back in time. She was the enemy, then. See Bellatrix, exchange witty (and sometimes childish) insults with Bellatrix, shoot at Bellatrix, disengage. Lather, rinse, repeat. Harry sighed wearily. Back then, everything had been so easy. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the bad guys, Dumbledore led the war, and the Ministry was incompetent. Harry went out, blasted a few Death Eaters, and ran back into hiding, and that was that. Simple.

And now he was playing games of politics and intrigues that he was completely unfamiliar with, in the hopes that he could somehow out-smart Voldemort. If he could be defeated, at all. Voldemort in Harry's time had been… incredibly, insanely powerful. More so than even Albus Dumbledore, despite the fact that Voldemort resided in a magically crafted body. Would he be able to deal with Voldemort when it all came down to it?

"You quite done moping, Ashworth?"

"What?" Harry's head shot up from where he'd buried it in his arms. "Oh, it's you."

"And a good day to you, too," Bellatrix responded with mock cheer.

Harry decided not to grace that with a retort. "What do you want?"

"That any way to talk to someone bearing news?" Bellatrix snorted in disdain and carelessly tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table. "My uncle's moving things ahead."

Picking up the paper, Harry skimmed through it briefly, one eyebrow arching curiously. "He nominated your father for Minister?"

"Yep."

"And they're going along with it?"

"Yep."

"And you're going along with it?"

"Yep."

Harry sighed and put the paper down. "Are you going to tell me the rest of it, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

"Well… since you asked so nicely," Bellatrix smirked and polished her nails on her robe. "Since my uncle met with you last week, he's been in almost constant meetings with Malfoy, senior, and my father, I think they're up to something. That's probably part of it - since it's Prewitt sponsoring the motion, you can bet my uncle's got his fingers in there somewhere."

Harry leaned back and resisted the urge to tell her that he had already suspected as much. He had a feeling that she knew that he knew, and that she was just looking for an excuse to come talk to him, presumably to…

"By the way, Ashworth," she continued, "it's been a week, and you still haven't gotten off your butt and done anything."

"And how would you know that?" Harry replied evenly.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to reply, but closed it when she couldn't really think of anything to say. With a huff, she crossed her arms. "You haven't done anything but show up to class," she finally said.

"As far as you know," he said.

"Fine. Have you done anything, then?"

"I-" Harry just managed to stop himself from saying 'no,' knowing full well that she'd smugly give him that 'I-told-you-so' look of hers. It was almost as aggravating as her future self's insane laughter. He was saved, however, by the proverbial bell in form of an owl that entered through his window and made a smooth landing on his desk. "I've got mail, apparently," he finished lamely.

"So you do," Bellatrix deadpanned.

Taking the letter from the owl's proffered leg, Harry noticed that it hopped over to the corner of his desk and settled in, obviously waiting for a reply. He rooted through one of his drawers for an owl treat, and fed it to her, patting the bird on the head as it crooed in contentment.

"Are you going to open it?" Bellatrix asked, pointing at the envelope whose front merely declared Mr. Harold Ashworth, Hogwarts Potions Master's Chambers in an elegant green script.

"I think my mail's none of your business," Harry shot back, but picked up the envelope, anyway. Turning it over in his hands, he noticed that there was no return address, and the handwriting was unfamiliar. He didn't especially feel like reading through his mail in front of Bellatrix - for all he knew, this was a prank love-letter from her just so she could see him blush and stammer - but somehow he had the feeling it was important. Tearing it open, he unfolded the letter.

Dear Mr. Ashworth,

I am a scion of one of the less prominent pureblood families, who is concerned with the current state of affairs. My sources inform me that you may be sympathetic to our cause, and I would very much like the opportunity to speak with you in private. If you would be so gracious as to accept my invitation, please send your reply by owl. I will be expecting you on Saturday by ten at night, at the Gaunt Estate, reachable by floo.

Harry frowned as he skimmed the letter then froze as he reached the signature. His face paled and his hands trembled slightly.

Instantly, Bellatrix noticed. "Ashworth?" Bellatrix leaned over the desk in concern. "Hey, Ashworth, don't freak out on me now! What's wrong?"

Stuffing the letter into the first drawer he managed to claw open, Harry tried to force himself to calm down. "Nothing," he replied shakily, "nothing at all."

"Don't nothing me, Ashworth, you look like you've seen Madam Pince's underpants! Spill it, what the hell was in the letter?"

The mental image of the phrase so close to a similar muggle phrase that Harry knew was so utterly ridiculous he couldn't help but choke out a helpless laugh. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

The look in Bellatrix's eyes told him she wasn't buying a single word that had just come out of his mouth. He'd expected that, and waved her off. What he hadn't expected was for her to reach over, grab a hold of his lapels, and haul in across the desk to stare right into her eyes.

"Dammit, Ashworth, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that I'm on your side?" she spat angrily. She looked like she was about to say more, but opted for shoving him back violently. The young witch stood and walked over to the window, her shoulders heaving in restrained fury. Harry could tell from the way she stood and the tension in her back that she was fighting with herself to keep calm.

When she finally turned back around, her violet eyes had narrowed almost to slits as her gaze bored a hole into him as she stood, looking for words. A storm of emotions crossed her eyes before she re-asserted her mental control and schooled her features into stoic indifference once more.

"Look, Ashworth, aside from me being on the bad side, I don't know what happened between us in this future of yours. You even said you knew the way I fight inside and out, so I assume we were enemies, and that we've fought sufficiently often. I know that the future you come from is probably anything but pretty, and that you're used to this whole fight-or-flight thing. I'm probably not one of the people you'd ever have thought would be on your side, but fact of the matter is, I am ." Bellatrix intoned slowly, carefully.

"As you said yourself, I am not who I was in your time. Or will be. Whatever. I'm not her, not yet, hopefully not ever, if I'm reading what you told me correctly," she appealed to him, "and this time, I'm with you. I'm on your side. If you don't want to believe me, then at least believe that I have as much reason as you do to want to avoid the future you were in. We're in this together, Harry. I can help you. I want to help you, but you've got to let me. I'm not letting you fight this war by yourself."

She'd taken a few steps toward his desk, and had leaned forward, placing her hands on the polished wood as she leaned down to look at him. He could see the honesty in her eyes, so clear of the deception and madness that marked her future self. It was ironic, he mused, that one of his most hated enemies would become his confidante. And he did trust her, he realized with a start. Harry had no idea how it had happened, but somehow, despite their ceaseless bickering and her superior attitude, he'd come to trust her, even rely on her. Since he'd appeared in the past, she'd been a constant presence by his side, refusing to leave him alone by sheer stubborness on her part.

And as much as he might not have liked it in the beginning, he was grateful for it now. He had none of his friends with him in this past that magic had thrown him into, but he had Bellatrix. Bellatrix, who had helped him, who had taken it upon herself to involve herself in his schemes and who refused to be shackled by the idea that her future was going to be written for her by someone else. Bellatrix, who even now wanted to remain by his side even though she knew that he was going to do something that any sane person would've deemed a lost cause, leading a resistance against a dark wizard by himself.

Her presence had been something constant at least throughout all the whirlwind of action and chaos his life had been in the last few months, something he could hold on to. And Harry suddenly found the thought of not having her by his side nearly unthinkable, knowing that it would leave almost as gaping a hole as Sirius's loss had left him with. She deserves to know, he decided, not everything, for now, but at least the gist of it.

Straightening in his chair, Harry gestured for her to sit back down and placed a locking and privacy charm around his office. "What I'm going to tell you is not to leave this room under any circumstances, is that understood?"

Seeing that he was dead serious, she nodded curtly. "Got it."

"First of all," Harry began, "you have to know that there's things I can't tell you, because it would simply be too risky. Tom is an expert legilimens. I'm not putting down your abilities, but I've seen him break through even the best occlumency shields. I can't risk having him scan you and find out that you know too much. It would be too risky for you and for this whole effort."

"I understand," she replied.

"Good. All right, then, where to start." Harry ran a hand through his hair in thought. "In my time, Tom is a dark wizard who managed to rise to power once before. That time is now. There was a war, which I don't know much about, because apparently it was so bad that everyone refused to talk about it-"

"Typical," Bellatrix snorted in disgust.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Right. Anyway, by some freak accident, Tom managed to get himself killed. Ten years the wizarding world spent rebuilding, recovering. And then, he rose again."

"Wait, what?" Bellatrix interrupted. "How'd a dark wizard just 'get himself killed'? Did Dumbledore kill him? And how in the world did he manage to come back?"

"How he got himself killed is… complicated. Knowing how he got himself killed is extremely sensitive information, so I'm not going to tell you the details. Let's just say that when it happened, his physical body was destroyed, but his soul, somehow, survived."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're involved in this somehow, aren't you?" She could see the way he was shifting uncomfortably, and decided to relent just a little. "I won't push any further… for now."

Harry continued with a grateful nod. "The first person he ran into while he was trying to stage his return was… me. I'd just started Hogwarts, and he'd just started scheming on how to get a physical body back. I foiled his plans several times over the following four years."

"You're telling me that you," the witch looked Harry up and down appraisingly, "screwed with a dark wizard's plans for resurrection for five years, and lived ? And you expect me to believe you?"

Harry shrugged. "I reckon he was just a shadow of his former self by then, and looking back on it, I really had more luck than I deserved. Fact of the matter is, me and my friends kept him from getting a physical body back for four years."

"I take it then that things went downhill from there?"

"Right. In my fourth year, he succeeded. He managed to finish a blood ritual that created a new body for him."

Bellatrix smirked in amusement. "I'm also guessing he was pretty miffed at you for messing with him for the past couple of years."

"That's putting it mildly," Harry muttered under his breath, knowing that her keen hearing had picked it up, anyway. "With his return, things quickly degenerated into open warfare. And yes, he was pissed. Little old me managed to make the number one most wanted spot."

"And then what? I take it the war went badly?"

"It actually went okay at first, we were doing pretty well," Harry recalled. "At least, until Tom decided to send out kill-teams to target anyone important enough to rate one. Dumbledore rated three. A couple of the other leaders got one or two."

"And you?"

"I rated five." Harry sighed. "That's how I got captured. And you know the rest about how I ended up here."

"That I do," Bellatrix agreed. "Now, not that I find all of this back-story enlightening, but how does that tie in with the letter that had you white as a sheet?"

"I know Tom's real identity."

"I gathered that," Bellatrix said, "and?"

Harry pulled the letter from his drawer, and showed her the last three lines.

I look forward to meeting you in person.

Sincerely,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

"And he just sent me an invitation to meet with him."