After the duel, people's attitudes toward Arthur didn't change overnight, but the difference was noticeable. He was approached more often, and by the end of the evening, he'd received five new orders for his artifact. His performance had earned him respect, but not trust.
That would take more than a flashy duel — people needed to know what kind of man he was, what he believed, whether he was reliable, and, most importantly, what they could gain from him. So yes, they'd noticed him, and they were watching, but that was all.
No one was throwing him a parade, but Arthur hadn't expected that. All great deeds start small — with a controlled Hogwarts, and with knowledge gathered from the powerful.
Arthur simply wasn't the type to act without an escape plan. It had been that way in his past life, before the bomb, and it was the same now. Some might call that cowardice, insisting a hero should be forged in hardship and trial. But Arthur lived by a different maxim: "Hard in training — easy in battle."
"Your performance was impressive," said a voice as soon as Dorothea wandered off, drawn to the black roses. Bellatrix Black appeared at his side, her tone half-genuine, half as if she'd been forced to speak to him. Arthur had the oddest sensation — as if two people with different voices were speaking through the same mouth. It was deeply unsettling.
Madness, he mused, had always been the curse of mental mages. In Sumer, mad mages were either healed, if possible, or killed — sometimes by the whole community. Genius and madness, after all, are two sides of the same coin. A true genius can't be "normal" by ordinary standards, because if he were, he wouldn't be a genius. The main trait of genius is seeing what the other ninety-nine percent can't.
"I confess, I didn't think you could win a duel without attacking," Bella said, her eyes sharp.
"In Japan, there's a martial art called Aikido," Arthur replied, his voice calm. "It's more a philosophy than a fighting style. The idea is to use your opponent's strength against them — so even the weak can defeat the strong."
"So you see yourself as weak?" she smirked, a note of contempt slipping into her voice. Bella didn't want her feelings to show, but the Black family had beaten worship of strength and disgust for weakness into her bones.
"Me? Compared to whom?" Arthur smiled. "Strength and weakness only exist in comparison. There's a Chinese proverb: 'If you can count to ten, stop at seven.'"
She raised an eyebrow. "You like all these Eastern sayings, but I don't get that one. If you're strong, why hide it?"
"It's about making your enemy underestimate you. If he attacks, he won't know your full strength — and he'll miscalculate. And I disagree with you — even legendary archmages have been killed. Sometimes by sheer numbers, sometimes by cunning. Everyone needs to sleep, eat, let their guard down. In the end, anyone can be seduced or stabbed in the back."
Arthur spoke slowly, precisely, striking at Bella's weak points, reading her mood, and subtly influencing her with his veela aura. The calmer a person, the harder they are to sway.
"That's why only those who become hermits, or who remember that loyal people can help more than any spell, live long," Bella said, her voice softening. "I've heard there's someone like that in England now — someone gathering worthy people around him?"
"You mean Mr. Gaunt?" Arthur asked, watching her reaction. She perked up immediately.
"Yes, he's extraordinary. He's always looking for talent."
"And what do you think of him? As a person?" Arthur pressed, gently increasing the pressure of his aura, searching for a crack in her mind. Bella knew occlumency, but with her fractured psyche, it was like a house with broken windows.
"I think… he's the kind of person the magical world needs. He's truly amazing…" Bella's voice grew dreamy, almost worshipful, as she began to sing Voldemort's praises. Arthur, nodding along, used her inspired state to probe deeper.
Bellatrix's mind was a battlefield. One part was buried deep, barely alive. The other had split off, battered by the Black family's madness, mental implants, and frequent intrusions by a certain "Mister" she was now praising. That was why Arthur could slip in so easily — Bella's mind was like a thoroughfare, even with some areas blocked by obliviate.
Should he meddle? Especially here, on enemy ground, where a session of mental therapy would hardly be appreciated? But when would he get another chance? Would he even see Bella again, except at the wedding, where she'd be surrounded by family?
On the other hand, he could gain an ally right now. There was little chance anything in those blocked areas would exonerate Gaunt. Time, time — if only he had more time… But why not?
"…I think he'd accept someone like you. You could gain a lot," Bella finished, her eyes shining.
"Oh, it seems we're out of time!" Arthur said suddenly, activating the veil of secrets from his ring. He twisted the rim of his wristwatch — a time-accumulator with acceleration charms. For the next five minutes, time in their little bubble would run ten times faster than outside. Seven charges left for this kind of trick.
Before Bella could react, Arthur drew his wand and murmured, "Legilimens. Hal, I'll need your help sorting out the mess Gaunt left in her head."
"Already working," Hal replied in his mind. Arthur had never had to act so quickly before. Fortunately, Dorothea had brought the diadem, which made things easier. He'd learned legilimency from Black and Sumerian mental magic, so he could compete with many masters. The only thing he lacked was experience, which Hal helped compensate for.
Bella tried to resist, but her rage was no match for her will or skill. If she'd been stronger, she wouldn't be in this mess. Couples passing by didn't notice a thing — the veil acted like a mini-Fidelius, making people ignore the spot entirely.
***
Bella opened her eyes with difficulty. She felt broken, lost, as if she'd slept for a hundred years. Where was she? What was wrong with her? Above her stood a handsome young man she vaguely recognized — Arthur Marlow, wasn't it? But what was he doing here? Had she fainted in the garden? Or was this an attack?
She reached for her wand — and realized it was gone. A chill of fear ran through her. A wizard without a wand, even one as strong as her, was helpless. Maybe she could manage a wandless lumos, but that was it.
But she'd been taught to behave like an aristocrat in any situation. "Even if you're naked and being mauled by dogs, you must act as if nothing's wrong," Walburga had once told her.
"I hope," she said coldly, hiding her fear, "that you have an explanation for this."
"There is. Look around, Miss Black." Arthur offered her his hand and helped her up. Bella's panic spiked. The world around her was surreal — the sky was a vast constellation, Orion, with the blue star Bellatrix shining especially bright. All around were fragments of a planet, smeared and held back by all-consuming darkness, like oil blots. Inside the darkness ran disgusting, pulsating white veins that made her stomach turn. And beside her, writhing on the ground, was… herself, bound and gagged, eyes wild, hair a tangled mess, face smeared with black lipstick and shadow.
"Where are we? What have you done to me?" she demanded, on the edge of panic.
"Don't you recognize it? This is your mind. Not a pretty sight, is it?" Arthur said, gesturing at the chaos.
"You invaded my mind? You know that's a life sentence in Azkaban without a warrant or a legilimens license?" Bella shot back, trying to sound ironic, but horror was creeping into her voice. If he wasn't lying, and this wasn't some elaborate illusion… but she could feel she was the master here, even if darkness had bound her. Had Marlow imposed these restrictions?
"I can leave. And then you'll end up right back where I pulled you from," Arthur pointed to the spot where she'd been lying — a cage of dead metal snakes. "You'll fall asleep, and your other self will take over again. Not a pleasant prospect, right? So, your choice: we clean up your mind together, or I erase your memory and we go back to our walk."
"Our absence will be noticed. You'll be in trouble!" she snapped. On one hand, he was right, but letting a stranger into the sanctum of her mind? With unclear motives? She wasn't stupid.
"You don't need to worry about that — I have my ways," Arthur smiled, and Bella thought, not for the first time, that he was annoyingly handsome. She'd love to mess up that pretty face, if she could.
"Fine. But what about my secrets? Or will you erase your own memory?" she smirked.
"That's pointless. I can restore anything erased, as a legilimens. But we can make a magical contract of non-disclosure. You don't sue me for the invasion, I don't reveal what I see. Mutually beneficial, and more reliable than threats."
Bella considered. If he had bad intentions, he wouldn't bother with a contract. Maybe he needed her consent for some reason.
"Alright, suppose I believe you. What's your interest in all this? I don't buy that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course not. I have my own reasons for wanting a connection with the Black family."
"By invading my mind? Interesting methods."
"It's easier to show once than to explain a hundred times," Arthur said, and with a wave, removed the gag from the bound Bella.
"Pathetic half-blood! My Lord will make you suffer! He'll cut you to pieces!" the mad Bella shrieked, then turned on her original. "What are you staring at, you weakling? Let me out and I'll drive you back into the dark. I'll destroy you, and be with my master forever!"
"You see?" Arthur said, putting the gag back. "If I leave now, she'll take over again, and you'll disappear."
"But I'm real! How could that… thing take over me?" Bella shuddered at the rage in her double's eyes. Maybe this was all a trick?
"A strong legilimens, an ancestral curse, and a lot of mental tampering. So, do you want my help or not?"
Bella hesitated. Could she handle this alone? Looking at the cage, she knew she couldn't. If Marlow tried to trick her, she'd fight back — and he'd regret it. If this was a trick, she'd figure it out later. But if it was real? She'd lose herself. The choice was obvious.
"Alright, I agree. What do I do?" she asked.
"Mostly, don't interfere. You only know the basics of occlumency, or your mind wouldn't be such a mess. Take my hand, so you don't get lost."
She took his hand, and a strange calm washed over her. Maybe it was psychological, maybe his veela aura, but she felt lighter.
"Let's start with the blocked memories," Arthur said.
***
A little black-haired girl, about five, played in a garden with a blonde girl and a white kitten. They were laughing, happy. Bella saw herself smiling — a rare sight — especially when the kitten chased her hand and nuzzled her. She picked him up and kissed his nose.
"Tom is so funny, I wish I could keep him!" little Bella said, beaming.
"Can I visit him?" the blonde girl asked, feeding the kitten a bit of sausage.
"I don't know," Bella's face fell. "My relatives are strict, especially my aunt."
"Bella! Bella, where have you run off to now?" called her mother, Druella Black.
"Oh, they're looking for me!" Bella realized, scooping up the kitten. "I'm not supposed to be friends with strangers, but I'll come back, I promise."
"Okay, I'll wait," the other girl said, smiling.
"I don't remember this," adult Bella whispered, watching the memory.
"It'll get clearer," Arthur replied. The scene shifted. Five-year-old Bella, head down, stood before Walburga and Druella, being scolded in the Grimmauld Place living room.
"You're a pureblood witch, Bella! Playing with a muggle is beneath you! Did you want to disgrace us?" Walburga raged, suspending the kitten with Levioso. "And you brought this flea-ridden thing too. If it were a magical creature, maybe, but a common cat? Kreacher, get rid of it!"
"It will be done, mistress," the house-elf said, snapping his fingers. The kitten vanished.
"No! Tom!" Bella sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
"And I don't want to see you near muggles again! You're grounded for three months!" Walburga snapped.
Bella, leaving the room, stamped her feet, pretending to go, but crept back to the door. Even as a child, she was clever.
"Mrs. Black, aren't you being too strict?" Druella asked, powerless before Walburga.
"Toujours pur," Walburga intoned. "And it's too late — I've already erased that muggle's memory."
Little Bella didn't believe it. She ran out, scraping her knees and face on the bushes, and made it to her friend's house.
"Jessie, Jessie!" she called. "I'm back. Let's play?"
"You know my name?" the girl asked, confused. "Who are you?"
Bella couldn't take it. She hugged her friend, who didn't remember her, and burst into tears, unleashing a storm of accidental magic. Walburga and Druella barely managed to break through. Jessie fainted, and Bella rocked her, sobbing.
"She'll be a strong witch," Walburga said, almost proud. "But you'll have to forget this. It's not right to be so attached to a muggle. Obliviate."
***
"You see, you didn't always look down on ordinary people," Arthur said gently. "It's hard for a child to understand why some are better or worse than others."
Bella was crying silently. Arthur offered a handkerchief, but she slapped his hand away.
"I don't need your pity," she said, her voice raw. "Let's keep going."
"I'm not pitying you. But everyone deserves sympathy," Arthur replied, leaving the handkerchief in her hand. Of course, all this was just imagery, but it felt real.
The scene shifted. Bella, about fifteen, walked hand in hand with a Slytherin boy by the Black Lake.
"I remember him — Mark Summertime, a half-blood. I liked him. He wasn't as snobbish as the others, but I don't remember walking with him," Bella said, frowning.
"I think you don't remember a lot, Bella," Arthur replied.
"Bella," Mark said, stopping. "I know your family will never let us be together, but I have to say it — I've never loved anyone like this. Since you returned my feelings, I've been the happiest person alive."
"We can run away! Like my sister Andromeda!" Bella exclaimed, her voice fierce. There was a saying among the aristocracy: "Stubborn as a Black."
"They won't let you go. You're already promised to Lestrange and—"
"I don't care!" she cried, hugging him. "Even if I have to fight the whole world, I won't let go of my love."
"I know, love, I know," he whispered, kissing her forehead. Then, behind her back, he drew his wand. "But they threatened my family… Forgive me. Obliviate."
"I remember now," adult Bella said, trembling with anger. "I dated Mark for a year and a half. How could he do that? How could he leave me? I loved him!"
"Because he was weak. He knew he couldn't protect you. Couldn't fight the Lestranges and the Blacks. That's probably where your worship of strength comes from," Arthur said. "Obliviate can block memory, but not emotions. The feelings linger."
"How do you know?" she hissed.
"We're in your mind. Did you think I wouldn't look for you?" Arthur said, not enjoying this at all. "Ready to go on?"
"Don't think I'm weak," she snapped. She hated a stranger digging through her memories, but it was easier than showing this to someone she cared about. Trusting a stranger is sometimes easier than trusting a friend.
***
The next memory was her first meeting with Mr. Gaunt at a Rosier reception. The ballroom was like the Blacks', but in gold and beige. Bella stood alone, watching the dancers.
"Rodolphus never liked dancing," she said, her voice sad. "He never loved me. I never loved him. It was all calculation."
"Why so honest?" Arthur asked.
"What's the point of hiding, when you're already digging through my underwear and memories I didn't even know I had?" she said, tired of being angry.
"For which I apologize," Arthur said, watching Gaunt approach her in the memory.
"Don't. You do what benefits you, I do the same. Don't pretend you don't care," she said, but part of her wanted him to care.
"Who left such a beautiful rose alone?" Gaunt asked the younger Bella, offering her a glass of champagne.
"Maybe the rose wants to be alone?" she replied, eyebrow raised.
"I love girls with thorns," he said, lips curling.
"Should I care about your love?" she shot back, but suddenly her eyes glazed over, and she took his hand, beginning to dance.
"What is this? Why erase my memory of this?" Bella asked, confused.
"Obvious, isn't it? Your Dark Lord works crudely. He bypassed your amulets, hit you with a mental attack, and started working on you during the dance."
"You're not much better," Bella jabbed.
"Touché. But I didn't have much choice, given our positions," Arthur said.
"Gaunt didn't have much influence then either. He probably thought the same as you," she said, noticing Arthur's distaste for Gaunt.
"Here's what's more interesting," Arthur rewound the memory, pointing to Rodolphus standing aside, watching, while his brother Rabastan held him back.
"They all saw!" Bella's voice shook with rage. "I was just a pawn!"
"More like a bargaining chip. Politics is like that. If your fiancé really loved you, he'd have challenged Voldemort to a duel and—"
"Died," Bella muttered, realizing she'd never thought of it that way.
"Now, I have to warn you. The next memory is hard, even for me. Are you sure you want to see everything?" Arthur asked.
"You won't scare me!" she said, but her knees trembled.
"I'm not trying to scare you. Just warning you," Arthur said softly, and Bella's fear deepened.
***
The next memory was a burning village. The air stank of blood and fire. Bella looked at her hands, covered in blood, horrified. Before her lay a man, cut in half, entrails spilling out. She'd done it with Sectumsempra. She vomited, again and again, until only bile came up.
"Broke down again?" Voldemort said, his voice cold behind a skull mask. "Big deal, you killed a muggle."
Nearby, Rodolphus and Rabastan dragged a sobbing woman, binding her with Incarcerous. Rabastan began to pull down his pants, Rodolphus undressed the girl with charms. Bella raised her wand and blasted them away from the woman.
"Protecting a muggle? Then take her place — Crucio!" Voldemort screamed. "Rabastan, Rodolphus, finish with the muggle — we have a defender of mudbloods here."
What followed was madness. The girl was gang-raped and tortured with Cruciatus until Bella's mad half surfaced, beginning to take pleasure in the pain. Bella watched, horrified, as she, covered in filth, licked Gaunt's boots, feeling a twisted happiness.
Voldemort himself, aside from casting Cruciatus, didn't participate. He erased all traces and memories so no one would talk. Arthur realized Gaunt's torn soul could only feel a narrow range of emotions — and enjoying others' suffering was one of them.
Bella couldn't take it. She clung to Arthur, sobbing like a child. He wasn't used to comforting girls, but his veela aura helped.
There were more memories like this — times when Bella's true self surfaced, and Voldemort did everything to crush her, sometimes with mental attacks, sometimes with torture.
"No one is born a hero or a monster — they're made," Arthur said, as he unraveled the mental implants and unblocked her memories. He couldn't remove all the damage.
"Just kill me," Bella whispered, empty. "How can I live with this? After all the humiliation? That thing branded me, defiled my mind and body."
"Don't you want revenge?" Arthur asked, trying to give her a reason to live. Sometimes ignorance is better than knowledge.
"I want that more than anything," she said, her eyes burning with a new, controlled madness. "But who knows better than me how strong he is? Neither you, nor I, nor my whole family can defeat him."
"Then become stronger. Help me find allies, and we'll destroy him. You haven't seen all my strength yet," Arthur said, taking her hand. This time, she didn't pull away.
"He'll take me over again," she said, exhausted.
"Not this time. I'll give you protection even he'll struggle to break. And there's one place he can't reach you."
"Hogwarts?" she guessed.
"Hogwarts," Arthur confirmed. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts job is always open. Getting rid of the current teacher won't be a problem."
"The Lord told me to watch you. So I will. I'll help you in everything. Merlin, I'll even marry you if I have to. But you must promise me that bastard will die. The worst death possible," she said, her gaze fierce and unwavering. Arthur knew — if he refused, she'd put a wand to her own head.
"With my help, you'll be able to do it yourself. But if not… I promise you, he'll die," Arthur said, not yet realizing he'd just gained his most loyal ally after Dorothea.
When he left Bella's exhausted mind, he cast healing and clarity charms, then placed the diadem on her head. He couldn't remove her "mad" side — it was part of her, and destroying it would break her mind. Obsession was in the Black blood — Walburga with blood purity, Sirius with rebellion, Orion with family, and so on. Bella was obsessed with strength, her own or others'. Voldemort had used that, tying his image to absolute power. Bella simply couldn't imagine anyone stronger than Gaunt. If someone did defeat him, she'd call it trickery, not strength.
Arthur couldn't erase that image — the mind abhors a vacuum. But he could substitute his own. Now, all that remained was to wait for the two cleansed personalities to finally merge.