Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
"-arry Potter!"
Where is he? No, more importantly, when is he? Has it worked? Has he managed it? Harry's head is swimming, his senses barely registering. Getting his mind in order is a matter of some difficulty but takes no longer than a handful of actual seconds. In the end, it's not as though he's overwriting another mind entirely. He is who he is.
Ultimately, it's more like memories he hasn't had a reason to think about in quite a few years are suddenly much more vibrant and in the forefront of his mind. Memories of his earlier life. Memories of a cupboard under the stairs, of a letter to Hogwarts. Of years spent in the school, both wonderous and terrifying in equal measure.
The first thing he registers about his surroundings is just how many people he's surrounded by. The sheer number of bodies damn near gives Harry a heart attack. He almost goes for his wand, unused to being surrounded on every side without at least a wall at his back. But in the end, he manages to hold off as he figures out that he's not in danger.
He's in the Great Hall, which means it HAD worked. Time Travel. Helluva a drug, heh. Still, he'd spent so many of his formative years in this place. Feasting day in and day out. Knowing he was in the Great Hall and surrounded by Hogwarts Students wasn't very helpful. He needed to know what year it was. Not that he knew WHERE he was, he needed to know WHEN he was.
Slowly focusing on his immediate surroundings, Harry lets out an explosive breath… only to realize everyone is staring at him at the moment. Not just those immediately around him, but everyone in the Great Hall is looking his way. Fuck, Ron and Hermione look so young.
… It probably says something that even having everyone staring at him doesn't really narrow down the exact time period all that much. Though, the fact that it's night time at least precludes this from being an End of the Year Feast. At the same time-
"Harry! Harry, my boy! Please, up here!"
Dumbledore. Harry blinks as his eyes are immediately drawn up to the High Table where the Hogwarts Faculty normally sit. Except it's not just the High Table right now. In front of it, there's also a massive, familiar chalice. Harry blinks as he takes in the view of the Goblet of Fire, along with Headmaster Dumbledore right beside it holding a slip with Harry's name on it.
It's in that moment that he finally catches up to the end of his newly vibrant early memories as well. Oh sure, he recalls what happened in his Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years as well as the years after Hogwarts just as easily, but there's a difference between recalling something and having just lived it. The start of his dreams with Voldemort are fresh in Harry's mind now, as is the mixed bag that was the Quidditch World Cup. Great show… poor after party.
Arriving back in this moment specifically was irritating to say the least. Slowly, Harry begins to rise from his seat. It was almost as though Magic was punishing him for his hubris. He'd been allowed to go back in time against all odds, but in doing so, he'd found himself bound to this stupid fucking cup again.
He would have preferred the start of the Year instead of this, if only so that he could have chosen whether he wanted to let his name get added to the Goblet or not. But… beggars couldn't be choosers, he supposed.
Wordlessly, Harry walks the length of the Great Hall. Everyone's eyes are on him, but now that he knows where he is and has full access to his senses, he's not concerned. There ARE threats in this room, but none from the students. Not yet anyways.
Entering the side chamber where the other Triwizard Tournament Champions are waiting, Harry pays the three no mind. They all ask him questions, but their words barely even register. He's already planning out his next steps, already considering his next move.
Distantly, he's aware of Ludo Bagman entering the room right behind him and all but having a seizure over how excited he was. The man was relatively harmless though, so Harry lets him be, his mind still racing as Ludo brings the others up to speed. There's so much to do and so little time. Honestly, he's not sure he can afford to be bogged down here for too much longer. This was dealt with swiftly enough in the previous timeline, right?
The door behind him opens again and this time Harry finds himself forced to pay a bit more attention as a number of powerhouses step into the room. His hackles are unconsciously raised just by finding himself in the presence of the three School Administrators, along with Mr. Crouch, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. For a moment, Harry considers removing the Imperius Curse from Mr. Crouch… but holds off for now.
"Madame Maxime! Say it is a joke! Zis quiet little boy can't possible be expected to compete!"
Harry tilts his head to the side at that, Fleur's words some of the first to actually register and pierce through the fog of planning currently draped over his thoughts. 'Quiet Little Boy' indeed… heh, he'd be sure to show her otherwise later, but for now he wasn't inclined to rise to the bait. In fact, once he gets over the immediate fight or flight response that comes with being in a small enclosed space with this many threats, he finds he can't be bothered to rise to the occasion whatsoever. Let Dumbledore figure this out. That was what happened last time, right?
Except, within minutes of Harry once again checking out on the conversation, there's a pair of wizened old hands on his shoulders and a grandfatherly face looking him in the eye.
"Harry."
To his credit, the Headmaster has some concern in his gaze, as though he's worried by Harry's listless reaction to all of this. He doesn't understand that it's not because Harry is shellshocked, but more because none of this truly matters.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
The question is spoken calmly, but the accusation inherent in it is… irritating to say the least. Finally, Harry actually remembers how this whole conversation went. Right, they were trying to make him out to be the bad guy here. They were trying to blame it all on him. Perhaps not Dumbledore… but everyone else wanted to pin this whole shitshow on the youngest person in the room. What a bunch of scumbags.
Slowly, Harry's emerald gaze pans over the room, taking in the unfriendly faces all around him. When he finally looks back to Dumbledore, he can't help the scoff that spills forth from his lips, leading the Headmaster to let go of him and frown as he takes a step back.
"Right, because that's the most reasonable explanation here, isn't it? It was all my fault."
Most of the people in the room bristle at his lack of respect, but Harry isn't done. Glaring now, he scowls.
"Me, a Fourth Year, managed to surpass the Age Line of the Greatest Wizard of our Age. Then, after I did so, I somehow managed to trick an ancient artifact into putting me in a Fourth School all on my own."
There's a beat of silence before Dumbledore interjects again, likely to head off any angry outbursts from the others.
"Did you have an older student put your name in the Goblet of Fire for you?"
Harry can't help the bewildered look on his face, truth be told. He vaguely remembers this question from the last time around, but now… well, he's had a long time to think about how stupid it was.
"Why would that even be an option, Professor?!"
The aged Headmaster looks taken aback by his question, and so does everyone else, allowing Harry to continue on.
"What the HELL was the point of having an Age Line if younger students could have just paid off older students to put their names in for them?! What kind of magically binding contract allows for that sort of loophole in the first place?! For that matter, what sort of magically binding contract allows for THIS to happen?!"
He can tell his words are having some effect on those in the room. Karkaroff looks like he's sucked on something particularly sour. Maxime at least looks thoughtful. Dumbledore has a grimace, and the three actual Triwizard Champions are all blank-faced and wide-eyed as Harry makes some very good points. On the other hand… there's always Severus Snape.
"And what exactly are you claiming happened, Potter? Because from where I'm standing, it's quite obvious you've done what you always do and found a way to circumvent the rules."
Looking at the man who played no small part in siccing Voldemort on him and his parents, it takes every ounce of self-control Harry has not to whip out his wand and kill Snape on the spot. But no, it wouldn't do to reveal his hand too early. He needs to be free if he wants to get things done, not locked up in Azkaban. Although, he will need to make a trip there some time soon… just not in chains with his wand snapped if he could help it.
Before Harry can answer, an unexpected savior does it for him.
"Don't be daft, Snape. You know what he's claiming. And he's right too."
Mad-Eye Moody enters the room and immediately occupies everyone's attention. But then to be fair, someone like him just had a presence to him… even when he was actually a polyjuiced Death Eater in disguise. His magical prosthetic eye spins this way and that, before focusing on Harry even as his remaining real eye sweeps over the assembles wizards and witches.
"Boy's right. What was the point of an Age Line if anyone could put anyone else's name in the Goblet, eh? But that's not even what's important. Wouldn't be a problem if he'd come out as the Hogwarts Champion, would it?"
Madame Maxime frowns at this.
"But 'e is ze 'Ogwarts Champion! A second one!"
Shaking his head, 'Moody' takes a swig from his flask. Once again, Harry is struck by the urge to Expelliarmus the man's flask out of his hand. Let the Polyjuice Potion spill all over the floor. But no… no, that would be a bit much this early in the game.
"He's unaffiliated. A fourth nonexistent school. Potter is an island unto himself in this Tournament. Which is exactly what whoever put his name in wants."
There's a beat as everyone processes that. Of course, not everyone understands what he's getting at.
"Zis is still outrageous! 'e now has a chance to compete for ze honor and glory and a thousand Galleons besides! Zis isn't fair!"
He'd forgotten Fleur was so… bratty when she was younger. Not that it makes her any less beautiful, Harry must admit. She could throw a full-blown tantrum and she'd still somehow manage to make it look sexy. That said, she's clearly wrong about some things here, and Harry sees no reason to let Barty Crouch Jr. as Mad-Eye Moody do all the talking.
"I have no need for the glory or the gold. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. And my bank account at Gringotts certainly isn't hurting, even after over a decade of neglect. By comparison, competing in a school tournament isn't going to make me any more of a celebrity than I already am."
In truth, he could always use a little more gold. And a thousand Galleons wasn't anything to scoff at either. At the same time though, the truth rings in his words. For some, it sways them even more to his side. For others, like Snape, it only makes them angrier. The Potions Professor is scowling furiously now, as Harry's disguised Death Eater ally backs him up.
"Damn straight. And more than that, Potter isn't strong enough to fool the Goblet of Fire. None of your students are. Which means someone with the magic to cast a very powerful Confundus charm wanted to make sure the boy competed. They hoodwinked an ancient magical artifact, just as the boy said. You think a Fourth Year is capable of that?"
"… But why? Why sign Harry up for a fourth school like this?"
Cedric Diggory's confusion is palpable as he finally speaks up, his brow furrowed. The Hufflepuff Champion has been listening to Harry and 'Moody' quite closely, and Harry can say they've swayed him considerably already. But at the same time, he still doesn't truly understand. To be fair, he'd willingly signed up for the Tournament, so of course he wouldn't.
"Heh, to try and get him killed, of course."
The room explodes as everyone tries to talk at once. Cedric just blinks, even as everyone else reacts with disbelief or derision. Harry, meanwhile, finds himself a bit lost in thought. Even as Karkaroff derides 'Moody' as paranoid and Barty Jr. turns things back around on the other wizard in spectacular fashion, Harry is more focused on what he wants to do next.
Because… in truth, he didn't have to deal with this shit if he didn't want to. The Triwizard Tournament represented opportunity, there was no doubt about that. Even with his claims to Fleur that he needed neither the glory nor the gold, he could certainly make use of both. More than that, his participation in the Triwizard Tournament represented a clear and direct path to not just Voldemort, but his followers.
Harry knew where Voldemort currently was. He could hop over there after getting a couple of other things done and deal with the Dark Lord with a snap of his fingers. But Voldemort's followers were a little more difficult. He knew who they all were of course but getting them all together wouldn't be something he could just pull off at any time.
On the other hand, being bound to the Goblet of Fire for a year would be annoying. It wouldn't limit him all that much, but it would require him to be present for each of the Tasks when they arrived. Tasks that he could excel at, and in doing so attract the eye of many a witch.
He had to consider precisely what he'd come back for. He was here to stop the end of the world. Did he have time for this stupid school tournament? More pertinently, was he ready to deal with the fallout of breaking the contract?
Because he could do it. Without suffering any of the consequences, even. Harry knew full well how to break the magically binding contract with the Goblet of Fire without being hit by the backlash. However, there would still be fallout. There would be questions that he probably wouldn't want to answer.
As Dumbledore finally brings the debate to a close and Bagman takes the opportunity to jump in and get started on the instructions, Harry makes his decision then and there. He can't afford to be anything less than decisive. The world is depending on him.
Chapter 2: The Bitch
Chapter Text
He won't break the contract. That's the decision Harry ultimately comes to as he stands there, Bagman droning on about this and that. But that doesn't mean he's going to start listening. See, he might be bound to the Goblet of Fire for the duration of the contract, but he's not bound to their silly made up rules. Hell, they can't even kick him out of the Tournament if he breaks them. All they can do is give him shitty scores and wag their fingers and shake their heads at him.
Eventually, Harry and his fellow Champions are allowed to leave, which is how he finds himself making his way through the corridors of Hogwarts with Cedric Diggory walking alongside him. It feels strange, to be back here again. Especially considering what happened to Hogwarts in his original timeline. But he didn't exactly have time to spill tears over it. There was too much to do now that he was back.
"So… I guess we'll be competing with one another this year."
Harry's eyes dart over to Cedric as the Hufflepuff boy makes an attempt at being friendly. Snorting in derisive amusement, Harry just shakes his head.
"It would seem so."
The memories of this conversation come back to him just as Cedric leans over and gives him a nudge. Harry tenses up, very nearly drawing his wand then and there… but no, its not an attack and he needs to adjust quickly if he wants to avoid any unfortunate accidents.
"Just between you and me… how'd you do it?"
Heh, even now, even after he and the disguised Barty Crouch Jr. laid it all out for them… Cedric still thought he'd somehow snuck his name into the Goblet of Fire. Letting out a sigh, Harry just gives the other wizard a dark, amused look.
"I didn't. I was entered against my will. But that's not something you'll understand until after the First Task, Cedric."
The expression on the handsome Hufflepuff's face is honestly quite gratifying. Confusion and disbelief war across his features as he tries to decide how he wants to answer Harry's words. He never gets the chance of course, because a moment later they reach the end of the corridor where they part ways. Harry splits off towards Gryffindor Tower without so much as a farewell, leaving Cedric staring after him.
Still, the conversation wasn't a complete waste of his time. Talking with Cedric had been precisely what he needed to remember what else happened tonight. Namely, the way he would be ambushed the moment he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. Needless to say, Harry didn't have time to deal with the entirety of his House all clamoring for his attention. Nor, from what he recalled, did any believe him if he tried to tell them he didn't put his name in the damn cup.
But their faith in him, one way or the other, wasn't relevant at the moment. Harry was on a time table here, and he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. As such, he draws his wand while approaching the Fat Lady's portrait and turns it on himself. Wordlessly, he casts an incredibly powerful disillusionment charm, rendering his form completely invisible.
Only then does he approach the Fat Lady in her portrait. She's currently speaking with another painted figure, who's telling her all about the commotion in the Great Hall from earlier that evening. The commotion he had technically caused.
"Balderdash."
Neither painted figure actually seems to recognize Harry's voice, caught up in their own conversation as they are. But the Fat Lady still does her job at least, her portrait swinging open to reveal the Gryffindor Common Room beyond.
… As well as the multitude of wizards and witches dressed in red and gold that are waiting within. Dozens if not hundreds of eyes stare out at where Harry is standing, but no one can see him as he slips inside and the portrait door closes behind him. The tension breaks with Harry halfway to the stairs, and one of the Weasley Twins calls out to everyone.
"False alarm folks!"
Groans fill the room, even as Harry ascends the stairs two at a time, making his way to his dorm. There, he doesn't hesitate to rip open his chest and pull out his Invisibility Cloak and Firebolt. Though, he does pause for a moment as his hands run over the Firebolt. It's an old broom by his time traveling standards, but he still remembered it fondly to this day. A smile flits across his invisible features for a moment as he begins to straighten up and-
"Harry?"
Stiffening, Harry curses under his breath. Seriously? He let his situational awareness lapse for one second and he finds himself being ambushed. Though, as he turns around and dispels the disillusionment charm to properly face Ron Weasley, he has to admit… it could be worse than his best friend.
Ron blinks, looking first at him and then to the invisibility cloak still in his arms. Harry's vanishing and reappearing act have clearly thrown the boy for a loop, though he quickly recovers and plasters a somewhat strained smile on his face.
"Is that how you did it then? Was that a disillusionment charm? Had to be the strongest I've ever seen."
… Now he remembers how this conversation goes as well. More specifically, he remembers how it affects their relationship for the rest of their year. Truth be told… Ron Weasley was a man that Harry would trust with his life. He was a stalwart brother against the evils they'd faced together, and there was almost no one that Harry would rather have at his back.
It still hurt, even considering Ron's death. But at this moment, Harry didn't have the time or the emotional capacity to deal with Ron at this age.
"I know you're jealous, Ron."
The red head's eyes widen at that, but Harry is already making his way forward. He overrides the young wizard before Ron can speak.
"I know you think that I put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I know you're angry that I didn't help you put yours in as well. I won't bother trying to convince you that it wasn't me. I will ask you to recall what happened in our First, Second, and Third Years though. First Year, you almost die getting me past the Chess Board and Professor Quirrell tries to kill me. Second Year, Lockhart would have obliviated both of us if not for his poor choice of magical implement. And I had to save your sister from possession. Third Year, the Dementors tried to suck out my soul not once but multiple times."
Shaking his head, Harry sighs.
"It shouldn't be that hard for you to accept that someone is trying to kill me again, Ron. By now, its par for the course, isn't it?"
For a moment, Ron looks speechless. But… as Harry expected, he's not ready to hear it laid out in common sense terms. His best friend's face begins to contort in anger and he starts to snarl.
"You-!"
But Harry cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder and a smile on his face.
"I forgive you for being a jealous pillock at this point in your life, Ron. I know that deep down, you're my brother and you always will be. Now… I have to go. I'll see you soon."
With that, he leaves a mystified Ron behind, slipping back out of the dormitory and down the stairs with his Invisibility Cloak hiding both him and his broom now. Though, he doesn't quite leave everything to chance. It's a very minor Confundus Charm that he casts on Ron. Nothing that will necessarily control his mind or anything like that. All it does is dissuade Ron from telling anyone that Harry left. The boy will go to bed and hopefully spend some time thinking about what Harry said, and he will not inform anyone that he saw Harry walking away with his broom and cloak.
Slipping past the party taking place in the Gryffindor Common Room, it takes Harry about ten minutes to get out of the castle, what with his knowledge of Hogwarts' secret passages. Then, he mounts his Firebolt and flies off into the night.
-x-X-x-
The stagnant air of Azkaban Prison is silent, save for the occasional howl or scream. In one of the cells however, a certain prisoner refuses to give anyone the satisfaction… for now, anyways. Bellatrix Lestrange's broken mind is a strange thing. Sometimes, she'll howl with the best of them, or even just howl to be howling. Sometimes she'll cackle madly, laughing her head off in wild insane amusement at seemingly nothing.
… And sometimes, like tonight, she huddles against the back wall of her cell, legs pulled to her chest, and doesn't make a single peep. Shivering violently there, she says not a word and lets not a sound pass between her cracked lips.
Her shivering only grows worse as a Dementor makes its presence known, slowly drifting on by. She's not unused to the dark creatures after all these years. However, she feels a momentary flick of surprise and anger when this Dementor stops in its tracks right outside her cell.
It wasn't fair. She didn't have any happy memories left for the creatures to take. Normally, they didn't even bother with her at this point. Sometimes when her insanity was at its peak, she would develop happy memories randomly, but they would always be quick to strip those away from her. Right now though, she was as clear minded as she possibly could be. There was no enjoyment of her circumstances to be had here, so why was this dementor scraping the bottom of the barrel?
Slowly, as her shivering gets worse and worse, Bellatrix Lestrange lifts her head to see what the fuck is going on. Only to stiffen in wide-eyed shock at the sight of not one, but TWO cloaked figures standing outside of her cell. There's the dementor of course, floating off the ground and looking dangerously at the other… the other who is not floating, the other who is not a dementor at all. A wizard in a hood stands there, his features hidden from her.
But of course, Bellatrix doesn't need to see his face to immediately know who it is! Scrambling off of the wall, she crawls forward, madness shining in her wide eyes as she giggles insanely.
"M-Milord? T-Truly? Have you finally come for your most loyal servant after all this time?!"
That proves to be a mistake. Her sudden surge of happiness causes the dementor to whip its head towards her, a hollow sucking sound coming from its empty 'face' as Bellatrix cries out in fresh terror and renewed fear. Still, she does not pull away. In fact, despite her happiness being sucked out of her as fast as it can be made, she crawls forward, her hands reaching the bars of her cell.
Suddenly, the hooded figure thrusts his wand into the face of the Dementor and calmly incants a spell.
"Expecto Patronum."
Bellatrix is expecting a silvery snake to burst out of the dementor's mouth and send it running, but that doesn't happen. Instead, the dementor begins to shake, violently. Almost as though it's trying to get away… but it can't. Underneath its tattered black cloaks, motes of light begin to shine through. The silver glow looks a little bit like cracks to Bellatrix's blurry vision.
Then, with a sudden whooshing sound that causes Bellatrix Lestrange to fall back on her ass, the dementor… implodes on itself. Sucked into a glittering bright point of light at the end of the hooded figure's wand, the dementor seems to permanently expire, dying a quicker death than it deserved, but also a quicker death than Bellatrix would have thought possible.
"… As to be expected of milord. Please, Dark Lord… please free your loyal servant so that I might once again do your bidding. I will-!"
It's then that the cloaked figure pulls back his hood and looks at her, shocking Bellatrix to her core. It's not the Dark Lord that has come for her. Not her darling Lord Voldemort. No, instead it's the eyes of that mudblood Lily Evans set into the face of that blood traitor James Potter. She might never have even met Harry Potter before, but Bellatrix knows her Lord's greatest enemy on sight all the same. This… this is Harry James Potter.
As the bars in front of her vanish like they were never there, Bellatrix hisses in outrage, scrambling back at the sight of her Lord's Nemesis suddenly before her. For a moment, she tries to flee… but then she remembers herself. She is an instrument of her Dark Lord's will…
Flinging herself forward, Bellatrix howls as she tries to attack the Potter boy with nothing but her bare hands. That goes about as well as can be expected, with her suddenly frozen in midair by his surprisingly powerful magic.
"Relax, Bella. This will only take a moment."
Bellatrix shudders. His tone reminds her so much of Lord Voldemort that it hurts. Not only that, but he called her Bella. Could it be… could the Dark Lord have possessed his greatest enemy and then come for her?
"M-Milord? Is it you after all?"
But Harry Potter shakes his head in amusement as he steps closer, killing her hope in an instant.
"No, Bella. Tom Riddle is far from here in too weak a form to possibly help you. I'm afraid you'll have to settle for me."
At confirmation that this IS her Master's great enemy, Bellatrix tries to struggle, truly she does. She fights against the magical hold to the best of her much diminished ability. In the end, without a wand and after over a decade of wasting away, she can't do anything but watch as the Potter boy brings his own wand to his temple and slowly begins to extract a memory.
No… not one memory. See, the way the memory extraction spell worked, you pulled out a memory in the form of a silvery strand and then put it into a pensieve. But as Harry slowly pulls from his temple, it's not a strand of memory he pulls forth, but an ever-growing blonde of silver. Bellatrix watches in confusion and incredulity as the young wizard removes enough memories that he should be brain dead by the time he's done. He's pulled out enough from his temple to account for someone's entire life.
Bellatrix's incredulity turns into budding horror when he finally finishes, only to turn his wand tip and the massive blob of glowing silver towards HER instead.
"W-What are you doing?! Get that away from me you foolish boy!"
Emerald eyes flashing, he just chuckles at her misfortune, once again reminding Bellatrix a little too much of her Lord.
"Sorry Bella, but according to you, this is going to hurt a lot. Still, you claim you deserve it so… here goes nothing."
Before she can even begin to parse that statement, just as Bellatrix Lestrange is starting to wonder if Harry might be just as mad as she is… he shoves the silvery glob right into her forehead, forcing the memories into her mind. And thus, Bellatrix Lestrange, eldest of the Black Sisters… remembers everything.
Chapter 3: The Bitch Pt. 2
Chapter Text
The life of Bellatrix Lestrange, born Bellatrix Black and commonly called Bella by those who knew her best, was not necessarily a nice one. And yet, as the glob of shining silver is forced into her mind, that is precisely what Bellatrix finds herself forced to contend with. An entire lifetime of her memories from both the past… and what would come next.
As the eldest of three sisters and a Scion of the House of Black, great things were expected of Bella, even from an early age. She was drilled constantly and taught all sorts of magics and secrets that other Wizarding Families could barely even dream of. As a result, she and her sisters had excelled when they finally arrived at Hogwarts, and if they didn't, their parents certainly had something to say about it.
However, the expectations on Bellatrix only grew when things began to take a turn for their family. First was her younger sister Andromeda, cavorting with a mudblood of all things and even giving up her place in House Black in order to be with the filth. That was bad enough, but salvageable. Andromeda was merely the middle sister of the three Black Sisters, and while it hurt to lose her, it wasn't the end of the world.
However, when Sirius Black turned out to be a blood traitor shortly after, things became a little more… desperate. As one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, House Black enjoyed a certain… prestige in the Wizarding World. But her cousin Sirius running away from home and cavorting with Light Families like the Potters? There was bedlam, even as his mother had struck him from the Family Tree. After all, Sirius was the oldest male of their generation. An heir.
To avoid any further embarrassments or surprises, Bellatrix and Narcissa were quickly locked down. As the youngest Black Sister, Cissy was pawned off to the up and coming House Malfoy, specifically to its young heir, Lucius Malfoy. But Bellatrix… Bella was meant for greater things. She was tasked with seducing the Dark Lord himself, Lord Voldemort.
Truth be told, it wasn't as though Bellatrix minded being told what to do in this case. She was a loyal daughter of House Black, but more than that… she'd always had a thing for power. Lord Voldemort presented quite a lot of power, all concentrated in one man. He was intoxicating to say the least, and she was happy to present herself to him as a candidate for marriage.
She had willingly allowed him to brand her with his Dark Mark, just as her parents and her aunt and uncle had. She joined his Death Eaters willingly, becoming one of his servants. And then she let herself into his quarters one night, intent on seducing him.
Only… Lord Voldemort was above such plebian desires. As handsome as the Dark Lord was, he was also asexual. More than that, as he would eventually confide in her, he intended to live forever and thus had no need for heirs OR spares in order to carry on a legacy he saw no reason to concern himself with. His reign would be eternal.
And so, for her impertinence that night in sneaking into his quarters and baring her naked body to him, Bellatrix Black was tortured with the Crucio Curse from dusk until dawn. The Dark Lord did not let up for even a single moment, for he sought to break her… and in the end, he did precisely that. Bella would never be the same again after that night. But rather than turn her into a fearful whipped dog shying away from her Master, all the torture did was tie her to him more closely.
A combination of her own innate mental instability, her fetish for powerful men, and the chains Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark intwined in her soul left Bellatrix eager to serve in any way she could. Her Lord did not desire a wife… he desired a tool, and Bellatrix endeavored to be the best one of all. She'd even gone so far as to marry Rodolphus Lestrange on the Dark Lord's orders. By comparison, Rodolphus could not hold a candle to her Lord, but he had done well and pleased Lord Voldemort, so she was given as a gift to her husband and told to obey him in all things a wife should.
Those days had been the height of Bellatrix's life. Mad and crazed as she was, she loved being Lord Voldemort's toy. She put up with her husband for the sake of the Dark Lord, and exulted in being able to carry out her Lord's orders.
And then, just like that, it all came to an abrupt end one fateful Halloween Night, and an already broken, insane Bella spent over a decade in Azkaban, becoming even more broken and more insane. Until finally, the Dark Lord returned. He saved her and her fellow Death Eaters, letting them free to play once more. In that time, Bellatrix had certainly played. She'd killed her blood traitor of a cousin. She'd killed many in the Dark Lord's name, in fact.
… But Lord Voldemort's Second Rise lasted only a scant few years when compared to his first. And then his great nemesis, a boy a quarter of his age, defeated him yet again. Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived.
Bellatrix survived the Battle for Hogwarts by the skin of her teeth, going to ground and obsessing over killing Harry James Potter to get revenge for her Lord. Unlike the other Death Eaters, her Dark Mark didn't fade with Lord Voldemort's final death. As she would eventually learn, this was because he'd set her up as his final instrument of vengeance in the event that the worst came to pass. She was to be his weapon, his blade in the dark.
That, of course, was before everything started to go to shit. Even Bella, as crazy as she was, could see the world ending all around her. More than that, she could see Harry Potter working to try and stop it. As she watched from afar, hiding from his gaze and plotting his downfall, Bellatrix Lestrange recognized in the man, no longer a boy, a power she'd only seen once before. The green-eyed wizard was just as powerful as her Lord had been. No… more so.
Perhaps that had awakened something in her. Perhaps that was why, when the time had finally come, her attempt on Harry's life had been half-hearted at best and doomed to fail. Either that, or the state of the world itself had sucked the strength from Lord Voldemort's last gambit. After all, magic in general was dying by that point along with everything else. It could be argued that her Lord's hold on her mind had begun to wane at long last.
Either way, Bellatrix failed. She failed so badly that she didn't even die in the attempt, instead ending up captured. And when she woke up? Her Dark Mark was covered in chains and her soul belonged to a new Lord. Instead of killing her for all that she'd done against him and his, instead of taking vengeance for his godfather… Harry Potter repurposed her.
Bellatrix was never anything but a tool… and after that, she was Potter's tool, the Dark Lord a fading memory. Harry had used her to her fullest extent to, extracting every ounce of value from her. At times, it had seemed likely he would expend her life in one of his plans… but it never happened. People closer to him fell like flies, and somehow, Bellatrix, collared and shackled hound that she was, had survived.
When the time finally came for Harry Potter's last gambit, she was the only one he confided in as well. To be fair, there weren't many left by then. But those who were left, he knew he couldn't trust. They might try to stop him. They might convince him to change his mind. After all, his plan was… insane, to say the least.
It'd been right up Bella's alley. She'd happily gone along with it, helping him to gather the resources necessary for the ritual. There was no helping it, and if they'd waited much longer, even sending him back would likely not have been possible any longer. Magic was growing weaker by the day, and a ritual like the one Harry wanted to perform would probably fail if they had stopped to smell the roses, so to speak.
That was why, when the end came, Bellatrix had gathered her courage and asked a boon of her new Lord… of her TRUE Master. She was loath to think that he would go back in time without help, without assistance… without HER. She was even more loath to think that he would go back to a time where her old self would be an enemy of his, and a loyal pet to the Dark Lord.
That was why she'd asked him to do what he'd done. To take her entire mind and suck it right out of her head, leaving her body an empty husk. It wasn't quite the same as a soul death at the hands of a Dementor, but it was close in a way. It was the only way for him to bring her back with him though, so he could shove her memories into her younger self.
An insane idea, of course. One that Harry had warned her was likely doomed to failure. But Bella hadn't cared. She was dead either way. That was probably what had ultimately convinced him. His choice was to either leave her behind to meet oblivion with the rest of the world, or try and take her with him and likely lose her anyways. Only one option had any hope of keeping her around, so why not give it a try, right?
There was practically no hope of it working though. There was… except it had, hadn't it? Bellatrix slowly blinks, her foggy and glazed over eyes finally snapping shut and then reopening as she realizes it had actually worked. Clawing her way out of the depths of her mind, she moves about in the real world once more, finally unfreezing from her long extended stay processing her new memories.
Coming out of memory lane fully, Bellatrix looks around and sees herself in a nondescript hotel room. She has no idea where she is, only that she's sitting on a bed with her back against the wall… and her Lord is looking at her with some small amount of concern in his glowing emerald eyes. A quick check of her bared arm shows that her Dark Mark is once more covered in chains, so even if the memory transfer hadn't worked, she would still be enslaved to his Will… as was right.
"Bella? Are you with me?"
She was. She was with him, just as she'd been in the future that never was and hopefully would never be. But of course, Bellatrix doesn't just say that. Instead, she lunges across the bed and takes Harry to his back, pinning him down right then and there. Not that he's at all bothered by her sudden aggression. In fact, the expression on her Master's face is one of pure exasperation as he looks up at her with a sigh and places his hands on her hips.
"… Yeah, you're with me."
Bellatrix can only moan as she grinds her crotch into his, humping him rather wildly. She loved that he could just tell. After all, she was still just as insane as she'd ever been… but she was HIS insane, leashed Dark Witch. No one else's. After a moment more of thought, she begins shuffling backwards, sliding down off of his crotch so she can kneel between his legs instead. It's been barely a day since she last did this, and also far too long, and also it's never happened at all. She has to, heh, make up for lost time~
-x-X-x-
When Bella begins going for his belt, Harry considers stopping her for a moment before ultimately just letting her do it. Truth be told, only her innate magic had kept her from looking downright awful. He might have his Bella back, the memory transfer managing to work against all odds, but at the same time, she was still inhabiting her old body… the one that had spent a decade and a half locked up on the Isle of Azkaban.
Still, there WAS something incredibly sexy about her subservience. Harry could admit it… circumstances had made him not a very nice person in the future he and Bella had come back from. When she'd finally made that attempt on his life, he'd been desperate. So desperate that he hadn't put down Sirius' killer like the rabid dog she was.
… He never told any of the others that he let her live, or that he had her under his thumb. There'd been a few near misses where some of his closest friends and allies had almost found out, but in the end, it had never come to pass. Harry didn't know what it said about him that of everyone he'd brought with him into the past, it was Bellatrix. Then again, he's not sure if it would have worked with anyone else.
There was really only room for one set of extra memories in his head, and that was solely because of the damage Voldemort's soul shard had done to him over the first portion of his life. Said soul shard was currently quarantined in this new timeline, as Harry still intended to use it very shortly. Regardless, he could only take one additional 'mind' back with him… and in the end, it could only have been Bellatrix.
Inserting an entire mind's worth of memories into someone, even if they were technically their memories… was foolhardy in the extreme. Even if they were technically compatible because it was the same person, it would be enough to drive anyone insane. Except… Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black was already insane. She was already a broken husk of a woman barely held together by first Voldemort and then his control over her soul.
In the end, she truly was the only one who could have survived the journey with him. And now she was sucking his dick, having pulled it from his pants and wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock while her hands fondled the lower half of his shaft as well as his balls.
Sitting up on the bed, Harry grimaces as he considers whether to let her continue on for the moment… or stopping her. They were, after all, on a time crunch. And they still had other things to get done tonight, things far more important than Bellatrix's fine, witchly ass giving him some head.
At the same time though, her desperation and subservience spoke to something inside of him. Something hungry.
With a sigh, Harry reaches out and places a hand atop Bella's head, opening his mouth to speak as her eyes flick to his, clearly waiting to hear what he has to say.