Exhaustion weighed Bellatrix down. Whatever she had imagined about being Harry's informant, it certainly did not involve as much work as this. He had demanded that she provide nearly every detail she could think of about every member of the Wizengamot and their family, former occupations, and associates. He had even extracted from her an educated guess at the loyalties of nearly every person mentioned. That had led in to a discussion about the warring factions in the Wizengamot and among the Ministry bureaucracy.
Bella had begun with broad, sweeping statements, but she had quickly learned that those would not suffice. Harry wanted to know everything there was to know, even about people who weren't in politics. It almost led her to think he came from an entirely different world, belied only by the fact that he seemed to know so much about the players in the game.
Harry tried to hide it while he was asking the probing questions, but she was no slouch at reading between the lines. The way he asked pointed questions, asked again, and asked some more about specific people until he was satisfied told her that he knew them, or knew of them, at least. And then there was the intimate knowledge he held about a select few people in this time - including her. In addition to a number of other things, Harry's behavior signaled to Bellatrix that he was playing for keeps.
Thus, Bellatrix had come to realize that if she really was going to be his partner in his venture, she would have to do more than just contribute little pieces of information here and there. Sassing him for fun and tossing him the occasional tidbit of information because it was convenient wasn't going to cut it anymore. He wanted hard information, the kind of knowledge needed to win both a physical and political war. Despite what she might have thought about him, he wasn't dumb. He clearly was crafting his plan as they went along, but he wasn't stupid enough to go into an unknown battlefield with the proverbial wands blazing.
With a huff she realized that he wanted a lot more information than she could give him about her fellow Slytherins. The Lestrange brothers seemed to be high on his list of persons of interest, for some reason, which led her to suspect that he had fought against them in the future he came from.
Spying on her fellow Slytherins wasn't going to be easy. Especially not since Harry wanted explicit details about their daily lives. A thought seemingly occurred to her as he sat back in silence, trying to process all the information she had given him.
"So, Ashworth, you say your future doesn't matter anymore, because you're now in a different timeline." Bellatrix grinned almost ferally. "That means you can tell me all about your future, because it's not going to change anything in it, right?" Gotcha, she thought with no small measure of satisfaction.
Harry glanced up sharply. He seemed to consider her point for a moment, and she could almost see the thoughts flashing across his eyes. "No," he finally said.
"What?" Bellatrix thought she hadn't heard correctly. "You've got to be kidding me! We have an agreement, Ashworth!"
"An agreement which includes only you being my informant."
"You agreed to let me know all vital information!"
Harry glared at her. "And the information about my future is not vital to you. As you so aptly phrased it, my future no longer matters. Therefore, whatever I tell you about it also no longer matters and cannot be vital information."
"That's not fair!" Bellatrix protested, annoyed that Harry had worked around her cleverness.
"Life is never fair. Take it as one of the only things I'll tell you about the future."
"But-"
At this point, Harry turned around in his chair stared at a bookshelf. Bellatrix glared back at his profile for a moment, but he seemed utterly unfazed by her eyes boring into him. She knew a dismissal when she saw one. It stung her pride, and a part of her wanted to scream and throw a hex at him, but she realized that would not get her anywhere. She knew now what he wanted, and if she didn't provide it, he would likely find someone else to play informant for him. While it was yet too early to tell what kind of benefits she would earn by remaining on his side, considering the fact that he seemed on the verge of waging a country-wide battle against a certain group of people, she figured the benefits would not be inconsiderable.
With one last huff, she stood and departed Harry's office to return to her dorm. She wouldn't get anything more out of him now, but she vowed to herself to not let up until she had gotten the full story from him sometime later. Trudging through the door of the Slytherin common room, she carelessly tossed her book bag to the side and slumped down into a chair. Most of her fellow Slytherins were either in bed or sneaking about, pranking unfortunate Hufflepuffs. That was fine with her because she didn't want to interact with any of them right now.
Looking up she found herself staring at the floor-length mirror that adorned part of the west wall of the common room. Violet eyes set into a pale white face, framed by straight, ebony hair, stared back at her. She was beautiful, her face unmarred. She knew she could turn heads and wind men around her fingers with ease if she wanted to. She got the unsettling feeling that if Harry's plans came to fruition, there would be fighting, and lots of it. She didn't know what would happen to her in the future or what had been her fate in Harry's future. Idly, she wondered what had happened to her in Harry's future.
Then there was one more question on her mind. "Do I really want to do this?" she whispered at her reflection. Was she willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure her side won? That thought brought her up short. Her side? When had she started thinking of Harry as "her side?"The mirror had learned long ago not to answer her questions. As she expected, there was no reply, no wise words of advice for her. The thing that bothered her the most was that Harry hadn't given her anything but the vaguest of hints as to what he was planning to involve her in.
Thoughtfully, Bellatrix began to compile everything she knew about Harry. He appeared powerful, that much was for certain. His magic potential was greater than the average Slytherin, but he didn't seem to flaunt it. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she would consider him beneath her notice, consider him almost… normal. He didn't seem the heroic type, like Merlin or Dumbledore. Well… his scheming did remind her of the headmaster, but he appeared to be more like a Slytherin in that regard. He was, however, not that sneaky. He was just… Harry, she concluded with a miserable sigh, and she didn't even know his last name. But, apparently, he had a plan - and there was room in it for her.
"Well, it can't hurt," she told the mirror, for some reason feeling like she had to defend her reasoning to herself. "It's not as if there's anything else for me to do right now, and Father and Uncle are interested in him for some reason. Besides, if things don't go my way, I can always call it off, right?" That was the point that had her worried the most. Her family had taught her early to always have an exit strategy - a backdoor out of any situation if things got sticky. Best to avoid fighting when possible, and work from the shadows - that was the Black way. Of course, that didn't always work out, and her family had earned a reputation for being vicious fighters, but fact was, if a fight could be avoided, then it was. It was considered a waste in time and energy to fight when one could back out easily.
But Harry had given her no hint as to what she was about to involve herself in, hadn't given her enough to work out an exit strategy with. She didn't know if it was even possible for her to pull out once his plans were set into motion. For all she knew, she could be stuck with him for better or for worse through it all if she made the wrong call now.
Of course, there was the unspoken promise of power and wealth. Harry hadn't exactly come out and said it, but the way he had so easily accessed the Black vault on the day she met him meant that he had access to practically her family's entire fortune. To Bellatrix, this was significant. He didn't have to even succeed in whatever it was he was planning to become rich or powerful. It was already within grasp.
Her mind paused, and she briefly wondered about what she could really expect to inherit from her parents. Her sister was likely going to marry Malfoy - she was cared for. However, even with her out of the picture, that didn't leave much for her. Orion Black controlled he majority of the Black fortune and assets, as the head of the family. While her father had done well in his business, her mother regularly spent most of what he earned in order to match pace with other pureblood socialites.
With a grimace, she remembered that both her father and her uncle had married rather late in their lives, and younger women, no less. This meant that both their wives were likely to outlive them, inheriting their fortune while Bellatrix went empty-handed. The thought caused her mood to sour. At this rate, she would be an old spinster before she inherited anything-if there was to be anything left. Not wanting to wallow in these depressing thoughts anymore, she forcefully shifted the center of her attention to Harry Ashworth.
Slowly, almost of their own accord, her hands rose to the top of her blouse and began undoing the buttons, finding them almost by instinct. She reached in and retrieved her precious hair pin from its hiding place. Bringing it up to eye-level, she frowned at it. "You're the one that started this," she scowled, unsure of whether she should be angry or grateful, and not quite certain if she meant the pin or herself. Angry that recent events had made her doubt her own place in her family and grateful that there was a way out, however uncertain it may seem.
Like the mirror, the pin, too, remained silent, unable to answer the accusation. After a minute, Bellatrix sighed and rearranged her hair, twisting it into a loose bun and sliding in the hair ornament to keep it in place. With one last look at the mirror, she reached for her bag and retrieved a piece of parchment. If she was going to do it, she might as well do it right. And she knew just where to start.
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