Chapter 31
The air crackled with uncontrolled magic as Sirius Black, still reeling from the stench of ST Mungo's and the dismissive healers, apparated directly into the bustling heart of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He landed with a thump, disrupting the measured pace of Aurors weaving through corridors. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, immediately locked onto Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, who stood speaking in low tones with a young Auror.
“Moody!” Sirius roared, his voice echoing off the sterile white walls. He surged forward, his hands clenched into fists. “Where is that Muggle bitch? She won’t get away with this! When I get my hands on her, WHERE is she?”
Moody, his one good eye swiveling towards Sirius, remained remarkably calm amidst the outburst. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a gnarled hand. “Calm down, Black. You want another round of Madame Lestrange’s…hospitality? Because acting like this will land you right back in a cell.”
James Potter, his face paler than usual, stepped in front of Moody, placing a restraining hand on Sirius’s arm, though his own anger was simmering just beneath the surface. “Calm down? Did you seewhat she’s done to us, Alastor?” James unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, pulling down the collar and then rolling up his sleeves. Scars, angry and raised, crisscrossed his arms like grotesque vines. One jagged line snaked across his cheekbone. “You can’t imagine the pain, Moody. And the healers…they say the scars are permanent. They will never fade.”
Lily Evans, her fiery red hair a stark contrast to the sterile environment, stepped forward, her green eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. “Honestly, you two should have never snuck into their wedding. I mean, come on! The excuse of ‘making sure the Muggle is safe with a Death Eater groom’ only got you both spectacularly tortured by her!”
Sirius flushed a dull red, his fury temporarily eclipsed by embarrassment. “It was a bloody stupid plan, alright? We thought we could get her out of there and save her from death eaters clutches we were wrong she as dark as they are” He shuddered, the memory of the their skins were sliced, and Polly juice were poured on their wounds still vividly burning in his mind.
Moody’s single eye narrowed, his magical prosthetic whirring slightly as it scanned Sirius and James. He sighed, the sound weary and exasperated. “Enough bickering with each other. We need you lot sharp, not squabbling. What kind of idiots go crashing a Death Eater wedding?” He sank heavily into a nearby chair, the springs groaning under his weight. He pulled out a battered pipe and began to pack it with tobacco. “We’ve got some intel. The Prewett brothers, Fabian and Gideon, were doing some perimeter sweeps around Malfoy Manor. Seems the Malfoys, Lestranges, and Blacks have been…burning something. Furniture, they said. Something big.”
Romeus, a young, fresh-faced Auror who had been listening with wide eyes, spoke up, his voice hesitant. "Forbidden magic, sir? Rituals?"
Moody shook his head, striking a match against his chair and puffing out a plume of smoke. “Nah. Wouldn’t be burning furniture for that. And we’d sense dark magic on that scale. No,” he took a long drag, the smoke curling around his weathered face. “That woman…Petunia Lestrange. Something’s not right with her. She’s up to something, and she’s hiding it from us. From everyone.”
Just then, a shimmering, silver light bloomed in the center of the room. A Patronus, shaped like a majestic phoenix, materialized, its ethereal eyes fixing on Moody. Dumbledore’s voice, calm and urgent, resonated from the magical creature. “Alistair, come quickly to my office. Now.”
The phoenix dissolved into glittering sparks, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Moody stood abruptly, his one good eye glinting with purpose. “Alright, you lot. Let’s go to Hogwarts. Looks like things just got interesting.”
Meanwhile, at the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor, wrought iron serpents snarled at unseen enemies. Inside, Petunia Lestrange, looking surprisingly composed despite the events of the past few days, walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her husband, Rabastan Lestrange. Behind them followed Druella and Cygnus Black, looking years younger than they had just days before. They were laden with large, sterile-looking bags marked with medical symbols. IV chelation bags, Petunia had learned to call them.
Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, Rudolphus, were waiting for them in the grand entrance hall, their eyes fixed on the arriving group. Bellatrix, a whirlwind of dark curls and manic energy, rushed forward.
“Muggle sister-in-law!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with a strange, almost giddy excitement. “You’re finally back! And you brought the medicine with you!” She gestured towards the bags with a flourish. “Mother, Father, you both look…healthier.”
Druella smiled, a genuine warmth softening her usually sharp features. “Yes, darling. We are back, and we are healthier. Right now,” she added with a slight undertone of caution. “I hope you haven’t done anything…unnecessary while we were gone?”
Rudolphus shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his mother-in-law’s piercing gaze. Bellatrix, however, waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, Mother dearest! We haven’t done anything to anyone…except maybe jinxing a few Aurors here and there.”
Rudolphus snorted. “More like you Crucio’d them, Bella.”
Cygnus, ever pragmatic, cut through the familial bickering. “Did Reinhard and Abarax gather the Dark witches and wizards from our circle to receive the treatment?”
Bellatrix’s grin widened, sharp and predatory. “ They’re on the process as we speak, and dear sister Cissy and her girly look-alike husband Lucy have got five families targeted for the purge!”
Petunia shivered, despite herself. Bellatrix's casual cruelty was always unsettling, even now. “I really don’t want to know how you lot handle your pure-blood feuds. Utter nonsense.”
Bellatrix’s smile sharpened, taking on a predatory edge. “Oh, but you should be interested, muggle sister-in-law. Because you’re going to be a part of it, whether you like it or not. In fact,” she leaned closer, her breath ghosting across Petunia’s cheek, “I think you should be the first.”
A bead of sweat trickled down Petunia’s temple despite the cool air of the manor. Fear threatened to paralyze her, but a spark of defiance ignited in her chest. An idea, audacious and risky, flashed through her mind. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t mind being the first to take the medication, right, Bella?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady, almost sweet.
Rabastan, standing beside her, stiffened, sensing the shift in the air. He knew that tone. It was Petunia’s “playing-dumb-but-about-to-pull-something-clever” tone. The Black parents instinctively backed away slightly, bracing themselves for the inevitable explosion that typically followed any interaction between Petunia and Bellatrix.
Bellatrix’s eyebrow arched in haughty amusement. “Oh, please. How hard can it be to drink your… muggle medicine?”
Petunia’s smile widened, a genuine, unsettlingly sharp smile that mirrored something she’d seen in Rabastan’s eyes on occasion. “Oh, Bella, darling, I never said you had to drink it.”
The Black couple recoiled slightly, bracing themselves. They knew that tone. This wasn’t going to be a simple argument; this was Petunia, cornered and dangerous, and Bellatrix was about to walk right into her trap.
Bellatrix’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Okay, if I don’t drink it, how do I remove the arsenic poison from my body, then, clever muggle?”
Petunia opened one of the bags, revealing the clear plastic pouch of fluid, the tubing, and the glint of a needle nestled within. “Oh, my darling Bella, we’re just going to have to insert it into your veins.” She held up the needle, letting the light catch on its sharp point. “Now, if my dear sister-in-law would be so kind as to roll up her sleeve.”
This time, it was Bellatrix who felt beads of sweat prickling her skin. Her confident laughter faltered, replaced by a strained, almost nervous chuckle. “Of course, muggle sister-in-law. How hard can it be?” But the bravado in her voice wavered for the first time.
They settled in the opulent painting room, surrounded by portraits of austere Malfoy and Black ancestors. Bellatrix, her usual swagger diminished, sat stiffly in a plush armchair, her sleeve rolled up to reveal the pale skin of her forearm. Petunia, surprisingly calm and efficient, swabbed the area with alcohol, the sharp scent momentarily cutting through the heavy air.
“This is going to hurt a little bit,” Petunia said, her voice devoid of any malice, simply clinical. She positioned the needle, took a steadying breath, and inserted it with a practiced flick of her wrist.
A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the Manor. “BLOODY MERLIN!” Bellatrix shrieked, her body jerking violently. “NARCISSA! MALFOY! SOMEONE HELP ME!”
Narcissa and Lucius, who had been observing from the doorway, exchanged a look. Lucius chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound. “Ah, Petunia really does know how to handle her sister. What do you think, Cissy? It’s rather… wonderful to see someone finally give your sister a much-needed dose of reality.”
Narcissa sighed, her gaze torn between amusement and concern. “Really, Lucius? You were utterly delighted when Rabastan married Petunia because she was a muggle, a supposed weakness in the family line. And now you’re happy because my sister is being tortured, for Merlin’s sake, by Merlin knows what Petunia is doing to her!” Despite her exasperation, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of Narcissa’s lips. She was still preoccupied, however, flipping through a thick parchment in her hands, the list of families marked for ‘elimination’.
Suddenly, a series of sharp cracks punctuated the air – the pops of Apparition. Narcissa glanced towards the window, her eyes widening slightly. “They’re here.”
Through the leaded glass, she saw Reinhard Lestrange and Abarax Malfoy striding towards the Manor, their faces grim and severe.
As the two elder patriarchs entered the painting room, their imposing figures dwarfing everyone else, they stopped short at the sight before them. Bellatrix, still hissing curses under her breath, had an IV drip attached to her arm, the clear fluid slowly trickling into her veins. Petunia stood beside her, a small, serene smile playing on her lips.
Petunia turned to face the formidable men, her composure unwavering. With a perfectly pitched voice, she announced, "Isn’t the muggle cure wonderful, Lord Malfoy and Father-in-law?"
Reinhard and Abarax exchanged a look. Abarax, his gaze sharp and assessing, finally spoke, his voice gravelly with age. “Well… it doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as it works. This arsenic… it’s a serious matter. Cygnus informs us you have a… plan?”
Druella stepped forward, her regal bearing restored. “Indeed, Abarax. Within three days, we will assemble the heads of the dominant Dark families at Malfoy Manor. They need to be informed, and… measures must be taken. We will discuss strategy then.”
Bella, who had been momentarily silenced by the arrival of the elders, found her voice again. “That muggle bitch is poisoning me!” she screeched, gesturing wildly at Petunia with her free hand, nearly yanking the needle out of her arm. “She’s going to kill me!”
Petunia’s sweet smile widened, unperturbed by Bellatrix’s outburst. “Oh Bella, darling,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of steel that even Bellatrix couldn't miss. “Don’t be so dramatic. If anyone’s going to be doing the killing around here, it certainly won’t be me. Not when there’s a list to finish, is there?”
Bellatrix huffed, examining her arm as if Petunia had committed some unspeakable offense. "It pinched! And you called me 'darling' like I'm some… some house elf!"
"Well, you're certainly acting like one," Petunia muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Rabastan, standing nervously beside her, to stifle a chuckle.
Druella cleared her throat. "Bellatrix, dear, be reasonable. This is important. You were complaining just last week about feeling… lethargic."
"Lethargic is not the word I would use, Mother. I felt like I was being constantly pricked with a thousand tiny needles!" Bellatrix corrected dramatically, conveniently omitting the part where her ‘lethargy’ involved almost setting Kreacher on fire for undercooking her toast.
"Arsenic poisoning, Bella. It has many delightful symptoms," Petunia said dryly, reapplying alcohol to a fresh swab. "Now, arm again. Unless you prefer the 'thousand tiny needles' feeling?"
Bellatrix grumbled, but reluctantly extended her arm, her eyes narrowed at the needle as if it were a venomous snake. This time, Petunia was swift and precise. The needle slipped in smoothly, and Bellatrix only flinched slightly.
"There you go," Petunia said, taping the IV line to Bellatrix's arm. "Now, just relax. It will take a while."
Bellatrix sat stiffly, staring at the IV bag dripping slowly beside her. Rudolphus, ever the diplomat, tried to lighten the mood. "So, Bella, about those families… Narcissa and Lucius have given us the lists. Quite a… promising selection, wouldn't you say?"
Bellatrix's eyes lit up, momentarily forgetting her discomfort. "Promising? Rudolphus, darling, they are exquisite! The Bones family, the Abbotts, even the Longbottoms, those pathetic blood traitors! Imagine the message we’ll send." A cruel smile spread across her face.
Petunia listened to their conversation, a cold knot forming in her stomach. She knew about the pure-blood supremacy nonsense, of course, Rabastan had explained it with the zealousness of a convert. But hearing Bellatrix talk so casually about wiping out families, about causing such widespread terror… it chilled her to the bone. She was doing this for her survival, for her… surprisingly comfortable life here. But the cost… the escalating violence, the casual cruelty… it was becoming harder to ignore.