Chapter 28
The air in the Lestrange Manor reeked of acrid smoke, a stark contrast to the usual musty scent of old magic and simmering potions. Druella Black coughed delicately, waving a hand in front of her face, though her violet eyes, usually clouded with a perpetual aristocratic indifference, were bright with a relieved fear. She watched the last embers of wallpaper curl and blacken in the magically contained fireplace, the ornate serpent and skull pattern dissolving into ash. Cygnus Black, a man of rigid posture and perpetually furrowed brow, stood beside her, his hand gently resting on her arm. His gaze was fixed on the dying flames, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
“I must admit,” he finally spoke, his voice a low rumble echoing in the large, now strangely bare drawing-room, “if we hadn’t discovered this poison… this arsenic thing… we would have perished.” He turned to Druella, his usual stern expression softening with a rare tenderness. “You were growing weaker every day.”
Druella nodded, a shudder passing through her slight frame. “You are right, dear. And it's all thanks to Petunia. Who would have thought a Muggle could identify my disease?” She still found it astonishing, almost scandalous to utter the word in the hushed, magically charged air of a pureblood manor. “Even the Healers at St. Mungo’s… they saw the yellowish nails, the fatigue… they muttered about ‘magical exhaustion’ and prescribed Pepper-Up potion!”
Cygnus chuckled, a dry, humourless sound. “Typical. Always blaming magic when it’s the mundane that bites us.” He squeezed her arm. “Now, all that's left is for us to convince the rest of our… dark circles… about taking Muggle medication.”
Druella sighed, the relief battling with a fresh wave of apprehension. “That won’t be easy, Cygnus. Not for this lot. But it’s worth a try. For our lives, it’s worth a try.”
At that very moment, the heavy oak doors of the drawing-room swung open, and into the smoky space strode Lucius Malfoy, followed by Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange. They had the brisk, purposeful air of men who had been out on important business. Petunia, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, who had been hovering anxiously near the fireplace, turned to greet them.
Petunia, her usually cheerful face etched with worry, moved towards Rabastan. “Did you get the money?” she asked, her voice low and urgent.
Rabastan, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering firelight, grinned and patted a heavy leather satchel slung across his shoulder. “Right here, love. Enough Muggle Galleons to drown in, thanks to Gringotts’… discreet exchange services.”
Bellatrix let out a sharp, cackling laugh, her eyes sparking with their usual manic gleam. “Aw, how sweet! My little brother-in-law is flirting with his new wife! So cute! Are you going to buy her a Muggle trinket with all that filthy currency, Rabastan?”
Petunia rolled her eyes, brushing off Bellatrix’s taunts with practiced ease. “We don’t have time for this, Bella. Madame Black doesn’t have long. Her organs will start shutting down if we don’t act quickly.” She turned to Lucius, her expression serious and commanding. “Lucius, I want you and Narcissa to look at the companies in the magical world that produced these wallpapers. Every single one of them, especially those that supplied Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange Manors in the last decade. We need to find the source, the manufacturer of this… poisoned paper.”
Lucius, ever composed, nodded, his silver-blonde hair gleaming in the firelight. “Narcissa and I will begin immediately. We can use family contacts within the Ministry’s Magical Artefacts department and discreetly inquire about wallpaper production and distribution.”
Petunia then fixed her gaze on Bellatrix and Rodolphus. “Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you two are in charge of damage control. Make absolutely sure that no one outside our circle knows what we’ve discovered. We definitely don’t want to alert the culprit, especially not the Light families or… Dumbledore himself. If this was deliberate… and I’m beginning to suspect it was… it might be them that started this poison.”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a predatory smile. “Oh, I like the sound of that. A little bit of skullduggery, a touch of paranoia? My favourite flavour.” Rodolphus nodded grimly, his hand instinctively moving towards his wand holster.
Petunia turned back to Rabastan, her voice softening slightly. “Me and Rabastan, we will take Druella and Cygnus to a Muggle hospital. She needs chelation therapy, and fast. We’ll get the chelation IVs as well, while we’re at it. For the rest of our circle, as a precaution. Better safe than sorry.”
“Muggle hospital?” Bellatrix sneered, her lip curling. “Those barbaric places? Druella Black, in a Muggle hospital? The shame!”
Petunia’s sapphire, eyes flashed, but she held her temper in check. “Shame won’t cure arsenic poisoning, Bella. Results will. And Muggles, ironically, seem to know more about this particular poison than our precious healers.”
Just as Petunia was about to issue the final instructions, a frantic pop echoed through the hall, and a house-elf, its ears drooping and wringing its hands, appeared. “Second Young Mistress! We have a problem!”
Petunia’s brow furrowed. “What is it, Pip?”
“Lady and Lord Longbottom are at the gates! They say… they say they want you to pay for what you did to Heir Longbottom! They are very angry, Mistress!” Pip wrung his hands, his voice trembling.
Bellatrix’s cackle erupted again, louder this time. “The Longbottoms? Here? Now?”
“Forget about them,” Petunia commanded, her voice decisive. “That can wait. Pip, prepare the car. We need to get Madame and Lord Black to the Muggle hospital immediately. Malfoy, get to work. Bella, Rodolphus, you handle… them.”
Petunia nodded curtly to Lucius and Narcissa, who swiftly stepped into the Floo, disappearing in a swirl of green flames. Then, turning to Rabastan, she took his arm. “Come on, husband. We have lives to save.”
As Petunia, Rabastan, and the anxious house-elf hurried away, leaving through the back entrance to avoid the Longbottoms, Bellatrix and Rodolphus turned to each other, their eyes locking in a shared, unsettling grin. The tension of the arsenic discovery, the urgency of Druella’s health, seemed to melt away, replaced by a familiar,
“Darling,” Bellatrix purred, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, “it’s been a while since we’ve had this kind of… dance, wouldn’t you agree?”
Rodolphus’s own smile mirrored hers, equally predatory and eager. “Indeed, my love. And the Longbottoms, bless their naive hearts, have unwittingly provided the music.”With a shared, bloodthirsty grin, they strode towards the front gates, ready to greet Augusta and Harfang Longbottom.
The Longbottoms stood rigidly at the wrought iron gates, Augusta’s usually placid face a mask of frosty fury, and Harfang, tall and imposing, stood beside her, his hand gripping his wand. “Lady Lestrange!” Augusta’s voice, though controlled, vibrated with barely suppressed rage. “We demand retribution for what that Muggle creature has done to our son!”
Bellatrix sauntered towards them, her movements fluid and unsettling. “Retribution?” she echoed mockingly, stopping just a few feet from the gates, Rodolphus a silent, menacing presence behind her. “And what exactly did my lovely sister-in-law do to your precious son?” She leaned closer to Rodolphus, her voice loud enough for the Longbottoms to hear. “Did she offer him a cup of tea that wasn’t quite to his liking? Did she perhaps… critique his dreadful robes?”
Rodolphus tapped his chin thoughtfully, feigning recollection. “Oh, wait a minute, darling, I remember! She… twisted his arm, perhaps? Terrorized him – was that the right word, my love? – with her… Muggle dueling techniques. Honestly, was it really so tragic that Heir Longbottom was… easily handled by a Muggle, whimpering from a little pain?” He feigned a look of mock sympathy.
Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, piercing sound that grated on the Longbottoms’ nerves. “Oh, the irony here is rich! You’ve wasted your lives for the so-called ‘Greater Good’ that the old goat has planted in your thick heads, protecting… Mud-blood rights!” She spat the word “Mud-blood” like a curse. “while we, the supposed Dark Arts devotees, are the ones being saved by a Muggle’s… common sense.”
Harfang Longbottom’s face grew dangerously purple. “Enough, Bellatrix! You, a blood scion, who prides herself on being a pureblood witch, hating Muggles to the core! And now you’re protecting a Muggle and treating her like royalty! I think this is a lot more ironic than anything we’re going through!”
Rodolphus waved a dismissive hand. “Petunia is an… unexpected, delightful gift to the Lestrange clan. She has more backbone, more brains, and certainly more competence than your entire Longbottom line put together. What about you, Harfang? Didn’t you and Augusta parade your son’s fiancée – what was her name again? Alice, wasn’t it? – babbling around, boasting about her being a Mud-blood Auror? And we’re the ironic ones?”
Rodolphus leaned closer to Bellatrix, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, darling, imagine what happens if my brother and Petunia have a child? Where do you think he or she would end up?”
Bellatrix’s smile widened, sharp and predatory. “Of course, darling. Slytherin or Ravenclaw. The best of both worlds, wouldn’t you say?” She turned her attention back to the sputtering Longbottoms, her voice dripping with condescension. “Now, unless you have anything truly important to say, I suggest you remove yourselves from our property. We have rather more pressing matters to attend to than listening to your pathetic whining about a bruised arm and a dented ego.”
With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix sent a burst of red sparks into the air, a clear, magical dismissal. The Longbottoms, outmatched and outmaneuvered, glared at the Lestranges, their fury boiling over, but they knew when they were beaten. Muttering threats under their breath, they turned and stomped away, leaving Bellatrix and Rodolphus to exchange another look of shared, dark amusement. The night was young, and the game, it seemed, had only just begun.