'My Dear Alice,
I realize today how much my silence may have hurt you, and I sincerely wish to apologize for my behavior. I’ve been clumsy with my words and actions at times, and I regret causing you pain.
If you’re willing, I’d like for us to meet and talk, and hopefully clear the air between us. Nothing would make me happier than to rebuild the precious bond we share. Let’s meet at the manor. I’ll wait for you, no matter how late it gets.
With all my affection,
Your brother.'
This was the letter delivered to her by a large owl just as she had stepped through the gates of Hogwarts. She had read it, reread it, her expression darkened with a mixture of confusion and anger. Her brows furrowed, her mind spiraling—Why now? Why was he doing this? Why…?
In the deep darkness of the night, Alice found herself unable to move. The letter in her hands, crumpled under the sheer force with which she held the fragile piece of parchment. She had recognized the owl, the paper, the handwriting—nothing had changed after all this time. He hadn’t changed. So why? Why did this letter, these words, suggest otherwise?
A wave of frustration surged within her. That simmering anger she had tried to bury for so long was now ablaze. She wanted to crush the letter in her hand and throw it to the ground, a gesture of defiance. She wanted to say aloud that this changed nothing, that no apology could erase what she had endured. Her heart pounded, her thoughts torn between tenderness and distrust.
She shouldn’t go. Every instinct screamed at her to keep walking, to return to the castle, to ignore this foolish letter and act as if it had never existed. But she didn’t listen.
Her hands trembled slightly as she tucked the letter into her pocket, her heart steeling itself for whatever awaited her.
With a sharp movement, she Disapparated, determined to confront the memories and perhaps, at last, close this painful chapter of her life. Tonight, she would go to the manor—not for her brother, but for herself, to find the answers she sought and maybe, just maybe, the inner peace she had been searching for all these years.
Over at Grimmauld Place, its occupants were deep in heated discord.
“Sirius! Alice hasn’t spoken about it, and she must have her reasons! Why insist on forcing the issue?” exclaimed Molly Weasley, visibly exasperated by her host’s obstinate attitude.
“Alice this, Alice that, but we’re talking about Harry! He has the right to know!” Sirius snapped back, his voice sharp with frustration.
Harry, standing in the middle of the scene, turned to them with wide eyes. “What do I have the right to know?” he asked, caught between curiosity and unease. The argument unfolding before him clearly involved him, yet no one seemed willing to explain.
Molly shot a reproachful glare at Sirius. “You’re using Harry as an excuse, Sirius!” she scolded, her tone growing accusatory. “I’ve seen how you act around her. Nothing’s changed since those days!”
Sirius straightened his posture as though stung by her words, but before he could retort, Arthur Weasley, standing beside his wife, hesitantly intervened. “Molly, dear… Sirius may have a point. Well, yes, the subject has come up a bit abruptly, but now that it’s out in the open...”
Molly spun toward him, scandalized. “Arthur! You worked with Alice; you know how much effort she’s put into burying all this!” she exclaimed indignantly.
“Bury what?” Harry interjected, desperately scanning the room for someone willing to provide an answer. But no one addressed him directly, each too wrapped up in their own concerns.
One of the twins piped up with mock innocence, “Is she a criminal?” His brother, wearing a mischievous grin, added, “Intriguing…”
“No! That’s not what I meant!” Molly shot back, horrified by the insinuation.
Remus, silent until now, watched the scene unfold without daring to intervene. The chaos surrounding him—the raised voices, the flurry of gestures—seemed only to cloud his thoughts further. Each word exchanged, each sharp glance, added to the confusion, making any attempt at clarity feel increasingly out of reach.
Alice had Apparated far away, deep into the southwestern part of the continent, specifically to Wiltshire.
She knew the place well: it was here that she had grown up, taken her first steps. Walking along the yew-lined path, a strange wave of nostalgia washed over her. She passed the grand wrought-iron gate, which swung open silently before her, as though her mere presence was enough to trigger its mechanism.
The manor loomed ahead, imposing and unchanged. It stood as grand and pristine as she remembered. Every detail seemed frozen in time, as if this place refused to move forward with the rest of the world.
She stopped before the main door, hesitating to knock. Troubled, she took a small step back, questioning her decision. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but a deeper force had drawn her here, and she couldn’t turn away now.
The door suddenly creaked open, breaking her hesitation. She hadn’t even knocked. He already knew she was there.
“Come in; you are welcome here…” a deep voice called from the grand entrance hall. He wasn’t right behind the door but somewhere deeper inside the house, likely in an adjacent room.
Alice slipped her hand into her coat pocket, gripping her wand tightly, before stepping over the threshold. Her eyes scanned every shadow, every detail of the vestibule. Nothing had changed, and that was the most unsettling part of all.
“Clara... My dear Clara...” The man’s voice echoed again, laced with a feigned tenderness.
“You got my name right in your letter,” she snapped, her tone sharp as she advanced cautiously. “But why now?”
A soft chuckle drifted from the depths of the hallway, tinged with amusement and a hint of disdain. “I would never call you by that ridiculous name, my dear sister,” he replied. “I prefer the one our parents chose for you...”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she interrupted, fixing him with a hard stare, “but if you start by insulting my name, I’m not sure I’ll stick around to hear you out.”
Lucius Malfoy finally emerged from the shadows, clad in his signature black suit, exuding an icy elegance. He gestured lightly with his hand, as if attempting to diffuse the tension. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his tone attempting to sound conciliatory, though his gleaming eyes betrayed his arrogance. “I’m slipping back into teasing you... Come. Let’s talk in the drawing room.”
Alice crossed her arms, her right hand firmly gripping her wand. “What do you want from me, Lucius? I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me why I’m here.”
He hesitated, carefully choosing his words, as if trying to construct the perfect response. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, almost pleading. “I wanted… to introduce you to my son.”
Alice raised an eyebrow, a look of unmistakable disdain crossing her face. “I have no need to know your bloodline, Lucius.”
Lucius’s lips thinned slightly, his irritation evident, but he pressed on, undeterred. “The conflict that separated us doesn’t concern him,” he said seriously, fixing her with an intense stare. “Please, I’d like my son to have the right to know his aunt, just as Potter has the right to know his godmother.”
“She was called Clara. Clara Malfoy, before she changed her identity,” added Remus in a hesitant voice, as though the words burned on his tongue.
The Weasley twins, who had been sipping butterbeer, promptly spat out their drinks in perfect synchronization, spraying the table in front of them.
A heavy silence descended over the room, broken only by the awkward throat-clearings of Remus, who immediately buried his face in his hands. He looked mortified, already aware that he had betrayed Alice’s trust and revealed a truth that was never meant to come to light.
Molly, visibly furious, left the room in a huff. Her frustration was palpable; she had repeatedly emphasized the importance of respecting Alice’s privacy, but no one had listened. Now even Remus, the last person she thought would remain neutral and just, had succumbed to the mounting questions.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, Sirius wore a triumphant, almost predatory smile. He made no attempt to hide his amusement. He had gotten exactly what he wanted.
“Alice is a Malfoy?!” Harry exclaimed, nearly choking on his own breath. His eyes widened in shock as he looked back and forth between Remus and Sirius for confirmation.
“That’s why she isn’t in the records,” Hermione concluded in a calm yet unsettled voice, her mind already dissecting the revelation. “Well… she is. Under a different name.”
Ron, on the other hand, remained gaping, his brows furrowed in an expression of profound disbelief. “Wait a second… You mean Alice is… Lucius Malfoy’s sister? Draco’s aunt?” He spoke as though struggling to wrap his mind around the concept, his tone a mix of astonishment and indignation.
Alice followed Lucius into the small sitting room, after he had assured her that he wasn’t carrying a wand. Despite her reluctance, she sensed neither aggression nor malice in his words or actions, which convinced her, for the moment, to lower her guard slightly.
Upon entering, three faces turned toward her. Narcissa, seated elegantly in an armchair, immediately stood, prompting her son, Draco, to do the same. The young man looked hesitant, almost uncomfortable, as if unsure of where to position himself. In the corner of the room, Bellatrix Lestrange leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression cold and hostile. It was clear she didn’t want to be there.
Alice scanned the room quickly before locking her cold gaze with Lucius's. “What is all this about, Lucius?” she asked in a frosty tone.
Lucius moved slightly forward, his hands open in a calming gesture. “I haven’t lied to you, Clara. I simply wanted to officially introduce you to my son. Of course, you’ve met at Hogwarts before, but I thought formal introductions were in order...” He gestured lazily toward Bellatrix. “And please, don’t mind Bella. She’s only here to accompany her sister.”
Alice raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between Lucius and Bellatrix, whose disdain was evident in every line of her face. She chose not to respond to the comment, merely letting out an irritated sigh. “I know Draco. And he knows me, now. This meeting is pointless. I’m leaving,” she declared, already turning toward the door.
“Wait!” Lucius exclaimed, his voice more insistent now. “Please, Alice. I spoke to Draco this morning. I told him who you are to him, and he had so many questions. About you, your past, your talents... Didn’t you, Draco?” he asked, turning to his son, his tone ambiguous, shifting between encouragement and subtle manipulation.
Draco, clearly caught off guard, stammered, avoiding his aunt’s gaze. “Yes… Professor McG—Aunt Clara… What my father says is true…” he murmured, though his tone betrayed his lack of conviction. His eyes briefly flickered toward Bellatrix, perhaps seeking support or an escape, but she remained impassive, her disdain directed at both him and Alice.
Alice crossed her arms, her expression one of cold skepticism. “I seriously doubt your intentions to rebuild any kind of relationship, Lucius. Manipulative as you are, this is probably some trap to try and win me over to your cause.” Her voice grew sharper. “Father tried to convince me, and I refused. Nothing has changed since then.”
Lucius's face twisted into a wounded expression, but it felt insincere to Alice. “I’m your family, Clara. Your departure affected me deeply. Yes, our ideals differ, but that should not divide us.”
Alice let out a bitter laugh, but before she could respond, Narcissa stood up. She approached Alice slowly, her movements calculated, radiating an almost disarming serenity.
“Clara...” she murmured softly, placing a light hand on her sister-in-law’s arm. “We could be a family again, Clara. I’ve always wished to have you as my sister... It’s never too late…”
“This accident was dreadful, but it made me realize how much I love you, my sister. The near loss of you terrified me...” Lucius added, his voice laced with a calculated emotion.
“Lies…” Alice whispered.
“Lies…” she repeated with bitterness, clenching her fists.
“I’m not lying, Clara!” Lucius exclaimed, his voice trembling, teetering between sincerity and calculated expression. “You are part of this family, whether you like it or not. You are my sister, Draco’s aunt. You come from the Malfoy bloodline! Father and Mother would have wanted to see you return to us…”
The words hung in the air like a plea, but Alice felt nothing but visceral rejection.
“I didn’t leave willingly!” she cried out, her eyes blazing with fury. “You drove me away!” Her voice rose further, each word laden with anger that had been held back for far too long. “I refused to adhere to your twisted ideals, and you hated me for it!” She punctuated her sentence with a sharp gesture, her eyes burning with barely contained rage.
In the corner, Bellatrix, who had remained still up until then, suddenly stood upright. The mention of “twisted ideals” seemed to strike her like a gong.
“They never asked you to!” Lucius shouted, his voice heavy with reproach. “You didn’t have to be an active member! You could have lived a peaceful, protected life, as a mother! But no, you chose the path of your so-called justice!”
He stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You left like a fury, you renounced your family, changed your name! All for some absurd ideological conflict!”
“My ‘so-called justice,’ as you call it, is what guides me every day, Lucius,” Alice retorted. “I fight for people to live in peace, for hatred and cruelty to no longer be weapons legitimized under the guise of greatness! Don’t you see the harm this cause inflicts on those who never asked for it? Every curse cast on the innocent, every family shattered—do you really think that’s a fair price to pay? You can close your eyes, but I cannot.” She paused, taking a breath. “Find reason, look beyond your narrow and destructive beliefs. Lucius, opening your eyes won’t weaken you; it could even free you from this burden.”
He stared at her, his gaze cold, shaking his head with a mixture of disdain and unyielding conviction. “You don’t understand anything, Clara. We have chosen a path that goes beyond simple human values, the narrow views of what you call ‘good.’ What we are doing is creating a world that will be pure, guided by strength and order. If some sacrifices are necessary to achieve this balance, then it’s a harm that deserves to be done, a step toward something greater, more powerful. We are defending a cause, a vision that you and your weak-minded friends cannot even comprehend!”
Lucius’ words sliced through the thick air of tension. Alice felt her heart race. “If you can’t see how wrong your ideals are, Lucius, it’s because you’re as rotten as Father,” she shot back, determination fueling each syllable.
In a swift motion, he slapped her, like a father punishing a child for a monumental mistake. “I’m not like Father,” he seethed, his anger mixed with a quiet frustration.
“You’re exactly like him,” she retorted, her cheek now bright red.
She began to walk away, her heart heavy with disappointment and rage. “Clara, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, forgive me, Clara…” Lucius called after her, as if realizing his action, but his plea seemed useless.
But Alice didn’t turn around. She was determined to leave this room, this manor, this prison.
“Professor Snape has returned, though,” Draco said, trying to catch her attention, his tone full of hope.
Alice stopped suddenly, a wave of emotions overwhelming her, as if a storm were raging inside her. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice barely audible, anxiety twisting in her stomach.
“Draco’s right, your friend Severus has returned among us,” Lucius confirmed, his piercing eyes studying her carefully. He saw that his words were beginning to affect her, and he continued, his voice softening, almost persuasive. “He didn’t tell you? You two were inseparable when you were younger... He chose our cause because he knows it’s the right one. Despite all that Dumbledore did for him, it is to the Dark Lord he has returned.”
Alice trembled, her breath shallow, unable to contain the storm of emotions roaring inside her. “I will never join your stupid cult!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the silence like a cry of despair. “I’m not like you, I’m not crazy, I don’t advocate some so-called superior blood, I don’t manipulate anyone!” The words came out with fierce intensity, each syllable carrying the weight of her indignation.
Bellatrix gripped her wand tightly, a palpable tension radiating from her. Lucius was visibly enraged, his features hardening. Narcissa, aware of the rising tension, pushed Draco into a corner of the room, trying to distance him from the verbal storm.
"You must be insane to follow a man as vile as Voldemort!" Alice’s final exclamation echoed in the air, her eyes shining with fierce determination. "You’ve all become puppets, blinded by power and hate! Following a man who only thinks of destruction and suffering is the height of stupidity!"
That was all it took for Bellatrix. With a swift motion, she drew her wand and cast a first curse at Alice, immediately followed by a second. Soon, a flurry of spells rained down on the young woman in a frenzied assault.
Alice, her wand held firmly, was ready. She deflected the first spells with skill, raising shields and counter-curses in a deadly dance. The flashes of magic shot through the air, illuminating the room with fleeting bursts of light. Bellatrix, her face twisted with devouring madness, attacked relentlessly, her eyes gleaming with carnivorous malice. Alice, breathless, fought with fierce determination, dodging and retaliating with all her strength.
"Bella! Let her go, enough!" Narcissa implored, her voice trembling with concern.
"Bellatrix! He asked us to bring her back among us, not kill her!" Lucius shouted, helpless without his wand.
"Do you really think that after what she said, he’ll want to keep her alive? I’m buying us time!" Bellatrix retorted in a shrill voice, her frantic movements amplifying the madness of her words.
"No, Bella!"
But Bellatrix, calculating and skilled, saw an opening. She stopped casting complex and powerful spells, which were too slow to launch. Instead, she switched to a barrage of simple, rapid curses—just as dangerous.
The spells flew faster than Alice could deflect them.
"Crack!"
One of the curses hit her squarely. Alice desperately dodged, but in her haste, she missed one among many.
"Diffindo!"
The magic sliced through the air and struck her violently. Alice felt a searing pain explode in her arm. She let out a cry, a mix of surprise and agony, as a sharp heat spread through her body. Her arm, mutilated, was gushing a flow of bright red blood, staining the floor. She staggered, breath caught, her eyes fixed on the gaping wound.
Bellatrix didn’t give her a moment’s respite. Renewed with vigor, she relentlessly unleashed a series of spells, each one more insidious than the last. The beams of light and energy darted through the air like serpents, striking Alice over and over again. Her left arm was soon battered by curses, wounds forming like black stars on her pale skin. Most of the spells grazed her bone, leaving painful burns that made her grimace with each impact.
Lucius then threw himself at Bellatrix, shoving her to the ground.
The pain was unbearable for Alice, but she had to escape; now was the time… She ran, clutching her arm tightly, feeling as though if she let go… No, it was probably just an impression...