Ch. 61

They walked on for a bit in silence, Bellatrix hoping that Harry might talk more about his time at school without realizing that she was essentially interrogating him about his past. Unfortunately, Harry simply was not in a talkative mood at that moment and ultimately did not volunteer any new information.

"Here's a good place," Bellatrix announced, pointing to a small café. The café had a wooden sign hanging in front of the door. Painted on the sign was a wizard in blue. There didn't seem to be a name though. Bellatrix explained this. "Ownership of this place has passed through so many hands that no one ever bothers to name it anymore."

Harry nodded and the two of them walked in together. There were a few customers: a man drowsing at a table with a Daily Prophet, a few old ladies gossiping with each other, and a couple of wizards that looked like they might be having a small business meeting. The server eventually noticed them and gestured for Harry and Bellatrix to have a seat. She soon came over and asked what they would like to eat.

Harry wasn't sure what to say because no menu had been provided. Bellatrix noted Harry's hesitation and ordered soup and sandwiches for both of them. The server left, but returned with two glasses and a pitcher of water. After she left again, Bellatrix took it upon herself to push the conversation along. "Did you ever have a girlfriend, Ashworth?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, deliberating in his mind whether he wanted to answer the question. "Sort of," he finally admitted. His first thought was Cho-the wintery Hogsmeade weekend and the sighting of the tea shop had reminded him of his unfortunate outing with her. But then his thoughts turned to Ginny. He looked out the window to the street as he dwelled on Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family.

Bellatrix didn't say anything for a moment. After a little bit, she opted to prod Harry for more. "Sort of?"

"My best-mate's little sister," he admitted forlornly. "We started dating for a bit, but then things got busy. Eventually, she died… I guess. Perhaps we should have dated anyway. Some would have been better than none."

"I see," Bellatrix said quietly, turning to the pitcher to fill up her glass with some water. It was probably time to change the subject. "Maybe you could give me more details about what I'm looking for with regard to the Lestrange slugs."

Harry was happy to talk about something else. "I'm pretty sure that Lestrange is acquainted with or will be acquainted with certain persons of interest. Establishing that the connection exists and with whom it exists is important."

Bellatrix sighed. "Hogsmeade weekend is the perfect opportunity for the Lestranges to meet up with whoever you're interested in. I really did try to stay with them."

Harry shrugged. "We all do what we can."

"I'm sure that there will be more opportunities as time passes," Bellatrix said optimistically. "I'll just have to gain their trust a little bit more and maybe they'll start talking."

"They don't already trust you?" Harry asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I have the family name and a reputation as a sharp witch, but I can't say that I've ever really been with the in-crowd."

Harry frowned. Bellatrix's statement didn't seem to align with his impression of how things had worked with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Bellatrix had practically been Voldemort's second-in-command. On the other hand, Harry couldn't particularly say that he was cognizant of the Death Eater social situation from the future. Though, the more he thought about it, Harry realized that there was a difference between evil Bellatrix and the rest of the Death Eaters. She was actually devoted, the others had other motivations for following Voldemort-everything from social pressures to hopes of cashing in on Voldemort's promises.

"Do you think I'm lying?" Bellatrix asked.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I was just trying to process that information."

"Process the information?" Bellatrix snickered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Harry said.

There was silence during which the server arrived with a platter of sandwiches and two bowls of soup. Harry nodded graciously while Bellatrix picked up her spoon and began stirring slowly as she thought to herself. Eventually, she came to a conclusion. "You were trying to reconcile what I said about myself to what you know of me from the future."

"Well… ah, hem," Harry sounded, trying to think of something to say.

"What was your conclusion?"

Harry sighed. "What you said fits with what I remember."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

More silence.

"Did we know each other well?" Bellatrix asked.

Had Harry not been so emotionally tied to the war against the Death Eaters, he would have laughed. However, it was hard for him to summon any mirth over anything tied to that subject. "We were acquainted," Harry admitted.

"Well of course we must have been," Bellatrix mused. "After all, you inherited the Black estate somehow. You probably were acquainted with a lot of Blacks."

Harry shrugged. Depending on how one looked at it, the answer could be affirmative or negative.

"How did you obtain my hair ornament though? I must have trusted you a great deal to let you even touch it. Most people don't even know that it exists."

"Suffice it to say, you died and it fell into my hands-sort of." Harry stated. Technically, it had already been in his hands during the moments before her suicide.

Bellatrix gasped and her face paled. "I died? Are you saying that in less than twenty-five years I will, or rather, could have died?"

Harry wanted to say that her death had not come soon enough, but felt that it probably wasn't an appropriate thing to say. This Bellatrix had not yet done anything to merit his hate-at least, he didn't think so. "When I was taken to the past, you were dead," Harry said blandly.

"How did it happen?" Bellatrix demanded, her spoon lying forgotten in the soup.

"I'm sure it's irrelevant," Harry said.

"Not if knowing can prevent it from happening in this timeline," Bellatrix growled angrily.

Harry smiled. It's easy. Don't take your bloody hair ornament and shove it into your chest, he thought. He said something different, however. "The exact situation is unlikely to reoccur," Harry said.

"I want to know," Bellatrix said.

"I'm not going to tell you," Harry said. The expression on her face caused him to change his mind-slightly. "Perhaps I'll tell you another time. You've got lots of time before it even matters," Harry assured her. "It's a very simple thing to prevent."

Bellatrix stared at Harry coldly for several seconds before nodding. "All right, but I'm going to hold you to that."

"No problem," Harry said, smiling weakly.

He reached for his own spoon and began eating his soup. Bellatrix, however, seemed to have lost her appetite. Instead of eating, she was staring at Harry with a blank expression on her face.

"Are you my son?" she asked.

Harry began choking on his soup. "No," he sputtered.

"Are we related by blood?"

"Given that purebloods interbreed incessantly, I'm sure we're related somehow," Harry replied.

"You're a pureblood then?"

"Half-blood," Harry said.

"I see," Bellatrix said, her hand reaching toward a sandwich.

Silently, Harry hoped that she would take one, put it in her mouth, and stop talking. His wish was granted and Harry was blessed with silence. His eyes were drawn to the window and he began studying the shops and residences across the street, wondering if paying a visit to any of these shops he'd never seen before would be worth his while. As he watched, something caught his eye.

"Isn't that Lestrange and some of his cronies coming out of that alley?" Harry asked, craning his neck and squinting to get a better look.

Bellatrix was still chewing her sandwich, but she turned and looked in time to see their retreating back as they walked down the street. She nodded and swallowed. "So they ditched me to come to this part of town, eh?"

"Looks that way," Harry said. "I wonder if they were meeting someone."

"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Whatever they did, they didn't want to be seen. Both the shop and that house have perfectly good front doors."

Harry nodded, studying the shop and house next to it. The house was well-kept, and the shop advertised itself as being an antique store. "Neither of those places appear to be… shady," he commented to Bellatrix.

"Probably nothing," she said dismissively.

Harry doubted it, but he didn't really have any better ideas as to what Lestrange and his buddies could have been up to. He allowed his thoughts to wander. Should he tell Bellatrix more about the future and himself? It probably wouldn't hurt. On the other hand, he didn't really want to. Did he need to though?

"Uh, Ashworth?"

"What?" Harry grunted.

"I think I figured out what Lestrange was doing." Bellatrix announced.

"What?"

Bellatrix gestured toward the antique shop. "He just set that place on fire."

....

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