Rewritten Destiny

In her private quarters, Narcissa Malfoy stood in front of the ornate mirror, her reflection a study in contrasts. The elegant and composed exterior she maintained belied the turmoil roiling within. The journal she had shown Severus was still burned in her mind, with each word a fresh wound. Hector Dagworth-Granger had not only manipulated and tortured her sister, but he had also turned her life into a waking nightmare. For Bellatrix and her family, she would see him brought to justice.

 

Slipping out of her quarters, Narcissa moved silently through the dimly lit corridors of Malfoy Manor. Lucius was preoccupied with his latest schemes at the Ministry, giving her a precious window of opportunity. She went to a small, hidden study, one of the manor's many secrets. Inside, a desk cluttered with old letters and documents awaited her.

 

Narcissa's fingers danced over the papers, selecting a few choice correspondences. Letters from old friends, contacts within the Ministry, and former Hogwarts classmates. She needed to tread carefully; Hector was cunning and would undoubtedly have taken measures to cover his tracks. But Narcissa was a Black, and Blacks were nothing if not resourceful.

 

One letter in particular caught her eye. It was from an old friend, Marietta Greengrass, who is now married and settled in Paris. Marietta's family had always kept their ears to the ground, aware of the comings and goings within the wizarding world. Marietta was a friend, but a friend to the blacks meant they owed her a debt, and it was time to collect.

 

A soft knock echoed through the study as she sealed the letter with a flick of her wand. Narcissa's heart leapt to her throat, but she maintained her composure. She opened the door to reveal Dobby, the house-elf, bowing deeply.

 

"Mistress Narcissa," he whispered, "Master Lucius is in the drawing room. He asks for your presence."

 

Narcissa nodded, dismissing Dobby with a wave. She composed herself and went to the drawing-room, the letter to Marietta safely tucked away. Lucius looked up as she entered, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

 

"Narcissa, my dear," he drawled, "I trust you are well?"

 

"Of course, Lucius," she replied smoothly, sitting opposite him. "And you?"

 

He waved a hand dismissively. "The Ministry is as tiresome as ever."

 

Narcissa nodded, pretending to listen while her mind wandered back to her plans. After a few minutes of idle conversation, she excused herself, citing a headache, and retreated to her private chambers.

 

Later that evening, Narcissa slipped out of the manor, her heart pounding with fear and determination. She went to a secluded spot in the gardens where an ancient oak tree stood. Its gnarled branches stretched towards the sky, casting long shadows in the moonlight.

 

"Marietta," she whispered, tapping the trunk with her wand.

 

A soft pop announced the arrival of Marietta Greengrass. She stepped out from behind the tree, her eyes scanning the surroundings warily. "Narcissa, this had better be important."

 

"It is," Narcissa assured her, handing over the promised potion ingredient. "I need information on Hector Dagworth-Granger. Anything you can find."

 

Marietta's eyes widened slightly. "Hector? He's dangerous, Narcissa. What are you planning?"

 

"Revenge," Narcissa said simply. "He harmed my family, and I intend to see him pay."

 

Marietta nodded slowly. "Very well. I will see what I can uncover. But be careful, Narcissa. Hector has a way of knowing when someone is after him."

 

Narcissa's eyes narrowed, her mind racing. "Foe Glass and the like, no doubt," she muttered, more to herself than to Marietta. "If he relies on such devices, we will need to shield ourselves. Fortunately, the Black family has ways to counteract such magic."

 

Marietta looked at her, curiosity mixed with apprehension. "What do you mean?"

 

"We will perform a ritual," Narcissa said, her voice cold and resolute. "A blood ritual, one that will shield us from any scrying or detection. Hector will not see us coming."

 

Marietta hesitated, her gaze flickering to the gnarled tree. "Here? Now?"

 

"Yes," Narcissa replied firmly. "It is similar to the Fidelius Charm, but instead of hiding a place or a person, it hides a secret and locks it in the blood, by hiding the secret we're looking for Hector, his Foe Glass and other forms of divination will not work. The only way to bring someone into the secret is through a blood binding."

 

Marietta nodded, her resolve hardening. "Very well. What do we need to do?"

 

Narcissa reached into her robes and pulled out a small, ornate dagger. The blade glinted in the moonlight, its edge wickedly sharp. She handed it to Marietta, her eyes cold and determined.

 

"We will each need to make a small cut and let our blood mingle," she explained. "The ritual will bind our intent and shield us from Hector's detection. Repeat after me."

 

Narcissa began to chant in an ancient, lilting language, her voice low and rhythmic. Marietta followed suit, her voice trembling slightly at first but growing steadier with each word.

 

"Sanctus Sanguis Nigrum,

Custos Arcanorum,

Obscura Visio,

Defende nos ab insidiis.

 

Hostes nostri occulti,

A nobis procul maneant,

Nostra voluntas fortis,

Sine timore perseveret.

 

Sanguine nostro ligamus,

Arcana et secreta,

Nobis soli patere,

Perpetua in tenebris."

 

 

As they chanted, they each made a small cut on their palms, letting the blood drip onto the ground at the base of the tree.

 

The air around them seemed to shimmer and pulse with energy. The gnarled tree's branches swayed in response to the woven magic. Narcissa felt a surge of power flow through her, a connection forged between her and Marietta, their intent solidified and protected.

 

As the final words of the chant left their lips, a bright, pulsing light enveloped them, then faded into the dropped blood surrounding the tree, leaving the garden in its usual darkness. Narcissa looked at Marietta, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

 

"It is done," she said quietly. "Hector will not see us coming. Now, go and find what you can. We have work to do."

 

Marietta nodded, her expression grim but determined. "I will. Be careful, Narcissa."

 

Narcissa gave her a cold, calculating smile. "I am always careful."

 

Marietta disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Narcissa alone in the garden. She stood there momentarily, the weight of the ritual and her resolve settling over her like a cloak. She would see Hector Dagworth-Granger brought to justice. Nothing would stand in her way.

 

---

Narcissa walked back through the dimly lit corridors of Malfoy Manor, the moonlight casting shadows on the walls as her footsteps echoed softly. The ritual's lingering power pulsed within her, but a heavy sadness settled over her heart as she neared her private quarters. The house was quiet, with only the occasional creak of the old wood and the distant hoot of an owl breaking the silence.

 

She entered her room and locked the door behind her, leaning against it momentarily. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. Hidden beneath layers of silk scarves and velvet gloves was an ornate keepsake box, its lid inlaid with delicate silver filigree.

 

Narcissa knelt on the floor and lifted the box onto her lap, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns. With a soft click, the lid opened to reveal a treasure trove of memories. On top lay a photograph of Bellatrix and herself, taken years ago at a family gathering. They were both smiling, their arms wrapped around each other. Bellatrix's eyes sparkled with a fierce joy, a stark contrast to the haunted look she wore in recent years.

 

Gently, Narcissa picked up the photograph and held it close, her heart aching. She remembered that day vividly—the laughter, the warmth of the sun, the feeling of being invincible together. But those days were long gone, and Hector's cruel machinations had twisted the sister she had known.

 

Beneath the photograph were other mementoes: a silver comb Bellatrix had given her on her seventeenth birthday, a pressed flower from the garden at Grimmauld Place, and a small vial of perfume they had made together one summer. Each item carried a memory, a fragment of a past that seemed like a distant dream.

 

Tears rose in Narcissa's eyes as she reached the bottom of the box, where a bundle of letters lay tied with a ribbon. She untied it and unfolded the first letter, recognizing Bellatrix's elegant, looping script. The words on the page were filled with affection and sisterly love, but as the letters continued, the tone darkened. The joy and laughter were replaced with confusion and pain, signs of the torment Bellatrix had endured at Hector's hands.

 

Narcissa's tears fell onto the parchment as she read the final letter, dated just before Bellatrix had become thoroughly enmeshed in the Dark Lord's service. The letter was filled with anguish, a cry for help that Narcissa had not seen—or perhaps had chosen to ignore.

 

"I'm so sorry, Bella," Narcissa whispered, clutching the letter. "I should have seen it. I should have been there for you."

 

The guilt and sorrow threatened to overwhelm her, but she took a steadying breath. She could not change the past, but she could avenge her sister. She could make Hector Dagworth-Granger pay for the suffering he had caused.

 

With a renewed sense of purpose, Narcissa carefully placed the letters back in the box and closed the lid. She wiped her tears away, her expression hardening. Bellatrix's torment would not go unanswered. Narcissa would ensure that justice was served, no matter the cost.

 

Standing, she felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She was Black, and Blacks always paid their debts. For Bellatrix, she would see this through to the end for her family. Nothing would stand in her way.

 

However, as she placed the keepsake box back into the drawer, another thought struck her, which had been buried deep in her mind but was now clawing to the surface. Andromeda. Her estranged sister, who had been cast out of the family for marrying a Muggle-born, might be the key to finding Hector. Andromeda had always been resourceful and fiercely intelligent. If there was anyone who could help uncover Hector's hidden life, it was her.

 

Narcissa paced the room, the idea both unsettling and oddly comforting. Andromeda had been cut off from the family for so long, and their relationship was strained, to say the least. But this was about Bellatrix, about family. Could she put aside years of resentment and reach out to her sister?

 

She crossed to her writing desk and sat down, pulling a piece of parchment towards her. She dipped her quill in ink and paused, the nib hovering over the blank page. How could she begin to ask for help from a sister she had shunned for so many years? The words felt heavy, but she forced herself to write.

 

"Dear Andromeda,

 

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been many years since we last spoke, and I know there is much that stands between us. However, I write to you now not as an estranged sister but as a desperate one.

 

Something terrible happened to Bellatrix, something that I believe can be traced back to Hector Dagworth-Granger. He has caused her unimaginable pain and has twisted her into someone unrecognizable. I am determined to bring him justice, but I cannot do it alone.

 

This is a great deal to ask, but I need your help. You have always been resourceful and intelligent, and together, we can find him and make him pay for his actions.

 

Andromeda, if any part of you can find it in your heart to help, I beg you to respond.

 

Yours in hope,

Narcissa"

 

She sealed the letter with the Black family crest and placed it aside. Her heart pounded with anxiety but also with a glimmer of hope. Andromeda would respond; perhaps together, they could succeed where she might fail alone.

 

Narcissa stood and walked to the window, looking out over the moonlit grounds of the manor. The night was quiet, the air cool and crisp. She wrapped her arms around herself, thinking back to the days when she, Bellatrix, and Andromeda had been inseparable. They had been so close, and it pained her to think how far they had drifted apart.

 

As she stood there, memories flooded back—of late-night talks, shared secrets, and laughter. She remembered Andromeda's fierce independence, her refusal to be bound by their family's prejudices. Narcissa had never understood it then, but now, in the quiet of her room, she could see the strength it took. She envied that strength and hoped it had not dimmed over the years.

 

She turned from the window and returned to her desk, taking out another piece of parchment. There was more planning to be done and more letters to write. She needed to gather all the allies she could if she was to have any hope of defeating Hector. But now, there was a new determination within her, a sense of purpose that had been absent for far too long.

 

Narcissa spent the following few hours writing letters to old friends and contacts, seeking information and assistance. Each letter was carefully worded, revealing just enough to pique interest but not so much as to give away her plans. She knew Hector was cunning and would have eyes everywhere.

 

As dawn approached, Narcissa finally set down her quill, exhausted but satisfied. She had laid the groundwork for what was to come. Now, she could only wait and hope her pleas for help would be answered.

 

She gathered the letters and made her way to the owlery. The cool morning air was a balm to her tired mind. She selected a robust and swift owl for Andromeda's letter, attaching it securely before sending it off into the early light. She watched as the owl disappeared into the distance, her heart a mix of hope and fear.

 

Returning to her quarters, Narcissa felt the weight of what she had set in motion. This was only the beginning. There would be challenges ahead, dangers she could not yet foresee. But she was a Black, and Blacks did not shy away from a fight.

 

She prepared herself for bed, her mind racing about what lay ahead. A sense of calm settled over her as she slipped under the covers. She had taken the first steps towards justice for Bellatrix. Now, it was a matter of seeing it through to the end.

 

The following days were a blur of preparations and waiting. Narcissa kept busy reviewing old contacts and planning her next moves. She kept her activities secret from Lucius, knowing he would not understand her need for vengeance. This was her burden, and she would do it alone if necessary.

 

One evening, as she sat in her study, there was a soft knock on the door. Her heart leapt—could it be a response from Andromeda? She opened the door to find Dobby, the house-elf, holding a letter.

 

"Mistress, this just arrived for you," he said, bowing deeply.

 

She took the letter and closed the door. She recognized Andromeda's handwriting on the envelope. With trembling hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

 

"Dear Narcissa,

 

Your letter surprised me, and I hesitated before responding. Despite everything, Bellatrix is still my sister, and I cannot ignore her suffering.

 

I will help you, Narcissa. I am still determining what we will find or if we can succeed, but I will stand by you in this. I will be available at The Enticement, a Café in Muggle London, on April 26th at 9AM.

 

Yours in hope,

Andromeda"

 

Narcissa let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Relief and gratitude washed over her. She had yet to determine if Andromeda would respond, let alone agree to help. But now, there was a chance to avenge Bella and perhaps to earn Andy's forgiveness.

 

Three days. In three days, her sister would be seeing her, and they would face this challenge together. Narcissa folded the letter and placed it in the keepsake box alongside the memories of Bellatrix.