Chapter 27
The sterile, potion-scented air of St. Mungo’s hung heavy around Lily Evans. She sat rigidly in a hard-backed chair, the crumpled pages of the Daily Prophet clutched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her gaze was fixed on the two unconscious figures in the beds across from her – James and Sirius. The scene in the newspaper blurred with fury.
Rabastan Lestrange’s bride. Just the words themselves tasted like ash in her mouth. And the picture… the photograph beneath the headline screamed louder than any headline ever could. It depicted a woman, breathtakingly beautiful in a stark, almost predatory way, standing imperiously over a cowering Cornelius Fudge. The Minister for Magic, reduced to a trembling mess at her feet. And in another, even more horrifying image, James and Sirius, bound and bleeding, faces contorted in pain as the same woman, that Lestrange bride, loomed over them, a cruel glint in her striking, cold eyes.
“Ludicrous,” Lily hissed under her breath. “Absolutely ludicrous.” How could a Muggle… this Muggle, reduce Fudge to a whimpering fool and torture two full-grown wizards? It defied all logic, all understanding of the magical world.
Just then, a flurry of concerned whispers announced the arrival of her friends. Teresa Berlitz and Sasha Monne rushed into the waiting room, their faces etched with worry.
“Lily! We heard,” Teresa breathed, her eyes darting towards James and Sirius. “About… everything.”
Sasha nodded, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced with grim concern. “How are they? James and Sirius?”
Lily shook her head, her red hair swaying like flames. “Still out cold. Madam Pomfrey says they’re stable, but… Merlin, Teresa, have you seen the Prophet?” She thrust the newspaper at Teresa, pointing a shaking finger at the offending images.
Teresa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Sasha peered over her shoulder, her eyes widening in horror. “That… that monster!” Sasha spat, her voice trembling with indignation.
Teresa took a deep breath, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. “There’s… there’s more. I heard Professor Dumbledore, Moody, and Frank Longbottom went to Lestrange Manor to confront her. To take her into custody. They should be back by now, shouldn’t they? You don’t have to worry, Lily. They’ll sort this out.”
As if on cue, a low groan echoed from James’s bedside. Lily’s heart leaped. She was at his side in an instant, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “James? James, are you okay?”
His eyelids fluttered open, cloudy with confusion. “Lily…” he rasped, his voice weak. He blinked, his gaze slowly focusing on her face. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on Sirius’s still-unconscious form in the next bed. The memory seemed to flood back in a wave of pain.
“The wedding…” James mumbled, his voice thick with fear. “The bride… she… she sliced us. With a knife.” He shuddered, his hand instinctively going to his face, tracing the angry red lines crisscrossing his cheek. “And then… then she poured something… polyjuice, I think? On the wounds. The pain, Lily… it was… nothing I’ve ever experienced.”
Terror flickered in his normally bright hazel eyes. He looked down at his arms, scarred and bandaged. He mumbled, almost to himself, "Petunia… Noel… Evans. And now she is a Lestrange. She needs to pay for it. We need to contact Professor Dumbledore about this. He has the authority to put a stop to her madness.”
At that moment, the door to the waiting room swung open again, and Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew stepped inside, their faces grave. “Lily, James, Sirius… we heard the news about Madame Lestrange…” Remus’s voice trailed off as he saw James stirring. “Prongs? Padfoot? You’re awake! Thank Merlin.”
Peter, his round face usually cheerful, was pale and drawn. “Yeah, it’s a good thing, you guys are awake… and alive.”
Teresa seized the opportunity. “Remus, Peter, did they arrest her? Madame Lestrange? Dumbledore and the others went to bring her in, didn't they?”
Lupin and Pettigrew exchanged a hesitant, uncomfortable look. They glanced at Lily, then at James and Sirius, before Lupin finally spoke, his voice low and somber. “No, they haven’t.”
Sirius, who had been stirring and was now blinking awake, shot bolt upright in his bed, ignoring a wince of pain. “What? What do you mean they haven’t arrested her?” His voice rose in disbelief, then anger. “A Muggle! Harming 2 pure-blood wizards! Torturing them on her wedding day! It’s practically an assassination attempt! She should be punished to the highest degree. Why haven’t they arrested her?”
Lupin sighed, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Apparently,” he began hesitantly, “it’s… complicated. She’s Rabastan Lestrange’s consort. And… well, the Lestrange clan is backing her up. Even the Blacks and the Malfoys… they’re on her side too.”
Peter continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And when they tried to arrest her… she grabbed Frank’s arm, twisted it something awful. Threatened Dumbledore and Moody… said she could end Frank’s life, or paralyze him, just like that.” Peter snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Moody aimed his wand at her, of course, but… well, the three dark families were in a standoff against Dumbledore and Moody. They backed down. For now.” He shivered. “Poor Frank is still shaking like a leaf because of her.”
Lily stared at them, her mind reeling. “What? You mean to tell us… that this Muggle… is under their protection now? The Lestranges, the Blacks, the Malfoys?”
Remus and Peter nodded grimly. “Yeah.”
Sasha, her face pale, spoke slowly, almost afraid to voice her thought. “And we also heard… that Rabastan Lestrange is… head over heels for her. Madly in love with her. Agh, disgusting.” She shuddered again. Then, she turned to Lily, her eyes wide with dawning horror. “Lily… this Madame Lestrange… her maiden name is Petunia Noel Evans, right? Please, tell me… tell me she’s not… your sister. That Petunia… the Petunia we know.”
Lily’s head snapped up, her green eyes blazing with fierce denial. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sasha!” she snapped, her voice sharp and brittle. “I know exactly what my sister looks like. And this,” she stabbed a finger at the newspaper, the paper crinkling under the force, “this is not Petunia! Look at her! She’s… far more ruthless. And her hair… it’s long. Petunia is… nothing like this! And I hate to even mention it, but Madame Lestrange is… one attractive beauty.” Lily’s voice dripped with disdain. “Oh, she’s going to regret it. She’s going to regret ever stepping foot into the magical world. Just you wait, Madame Lestrange.” Her voice was low, a dangerous growl rumbling in her chest. “Just you wait.”
Meanwhile, miles away, within the imposing, gothic walls of Lestrange Manor, chaos reigned, but a strangely organized chaos. A bonfire blazed fiercely in the courtyard, licking at the darkening sky. Bellatrix Lestrange, her wild black hair flying around her face, shrieked at a gaggle of house-elves, “Faster, you blithering imbeciles! Burn those bloody wallpapers! I want it all burned! Every inch!”
Inside the manor, however, a stark contrast to Bellatrix’s manic energy, Petunia moved with calm precision. She methodically checked the house, room by room, focusing on the areas where she had recently discovered traces of arsenic in the wallpaper paste. She’d saved Walburga Black, Narcissa’s mother, from slow poisoning, and likely averted a wider disaster within the inner circle. The near catastrophe had solidified her position within the Dark families, a Muggle bride wielding knowledge that purebloods had overlooked.
Narcissa Malfoy approached Petunia in the dusty library, where Petunia was meticulously examining a section of faded wallpaper with a magnifying glass. “I must admit, Petunia,” Narcissa began, her voice cool and measured as ever, “you discovering the arsenic… and saving my mother… and likely the rest of us… I thank you.” A rare, genuine note of gratitude touched her voice.
Petunia nodded, barely glancing up from her work. “It was nothing, really.” She shrugged, her gaze intent on the wallpaper. “I’ve always been… the unseen one in my family. You learn to study your surroundings when you’re overlooked. Perhaps because of that, I became… sharp-witted.”
Narcissa’s silver-blonde eyebrow arched slightly. “Petunia, how is it exactly you are so knowledgeable about… poison?”
Petunia paused, finally looking up, her cool brown eyes meeting Narcissa’s. “I’m not that knowledgeable,” she demurred, though a hint of something else flickered in her gaze – pride, perhaps? “I just… enjoy reading chemistry. I wanted to become a chemist, a genius, when I grew older. But my sister’s… magical education… didn’t exactly foster my dreams.” A faint trace of bitterness edged her voice.
Narcissa frowned, her perfectly sculpted brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t know what ‘chemistry’ is. Mind if you tell me what it is?”
Petunia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It’s… like being a potions master or mistress. However, it’s in a Muggle fashion. Chemistry is about finding… medicine, poison… things we use in our everyday lives in the Muggle world. And sometimes,” Petunia’s voice took on an ominous edge, a chilling undertone that sent a shiver down Narcissa’s spine, “chemistry is used as a weapon. To wipe out… any living being.”
Narcissa shivered, despite herself, but remained composed, her aristocratic training holding firm.
Just then, the library doors burst open with a crash, Bellatrix storming in, soot smudged on her face, a wild grin plastered across her features. “Muggle sister-in-law!” she boomed, her voice echoing through the high-ceilinged room. “I’ve already burned all the wallpaper that had the… the ‘acidic’ in them! What’s next?”
Petunia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Arsenic, Bella. It’s arsenic. And next,” she said, turning back to Narcissa, ignoring Bellatrix’s dramatic entrance, “we wait for our husbands to get Muggle money from the bank. And when they bring it, we’ll have to buy some essentials for wiping off the arsenic from your bodies and the rest of the witches and wizards.” She turned to Bellatrix then, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. “And perhaps, sister-in-law, you can help me explain to your husband why he is going to be spending Muggle money on… what was it you called them? ‘Muggle cleaning supplies?’”
Bellatrix just laughed, a high, unsettling sound, but for once, it lacked its usual malice. Instead, it sounded almost… delighted. Petunia Evans, the Muggle bride, was changing things at Lestrange Manor and the wizarding world, in ways no one could yet fully comprehend. And in St. Mungo’s, Lily Evans was just beginning to realize that the woman she had dismissed, the Muggle she had underestimated, was far more dangerous, and far closer to home, than she could have ever imagined.