Chapter 56. Time Skip
Just as we had predicted, the ritual was a success. However, no prediction prepared us for quite how painful it would be. When we had absorbed the essence of the Ice Phoenix, it hadn't been this painful, which made us complacent. But experiencing the agony of subjugating such a powerful spell by integrating the control artifact into one's own soul...
Let's just say the result robbed us of any desire to continue self-experimentation any time soon—perhaps for the rest of this life. Especially since we could still feel a coldness within, teetering on the edge of becoming truly uncomfortable. It was also reflected in our bodies—their temperature was now noticeably lower than that of a normal human. Thankfully, not so low that touching us became unbearable. Otherwise, we'd have to say goodbye to the cozy hugs Hermione was so generous with when we met. In a way, it even made hugging her more pleasant because of her warmth.
By the way, our friend had changed a lot too. Having become a fully-fledged Metamorphmagus, while she hadn't yet gained full control over her ability—hence her hair and eyes sometimes changing color involuntarily—it was perfectly clear she was already using it to the fullest. She was cute before, but now, with a personal appearance editor in her hands... Suddenly, where it once seemed a tiny bit shy of perfection, that "tiny bit" was added. At the same time, she had enough sense not to completely erase all traits typical of her age to avoid raising too many questions. In short, yes, despite how beautiful we considered ourselves, we, contrary to our narcissism, had to admit she was at least as beautiful as Andromeda. At the very least, our raging hormones responded to her unequivocally, even though we tried to control our less-than-virtuous impulses. For now.
Our third year at Hogwarts was marked by the arrival of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the already familiar Remus Lupin, who for some unknown reason had never visited our home. Although his friend (Sirius) could certainly have used the company. And we continued to use the Time-Turner to manage bringing all our new powers under control and perfecting them. This was our final preparation, after which we would be ready to give up the Time-Turner and finally fully focus on Voldemort and his minions, preferably luring them all back under his wing to orchestrate a purge.
We didn't share our plans for such a massacre with the Headmaster. However, if we agreed on anything, it was that Magical Britain needed a little shake-up. The Ministry of Magic was too mired in complacency, banning everything left and right. Because of this, the British had long since fallen behind the rest of the world, and only the existence of Hogwarts—and with it, loopholes for studying forbidden magic—allowed them to hold any standing on the global stage.
But those were Hermione's and Dumbledore's hopes to change the stagnant country. We simply wanted to carry out a little purge, seasoned with revenge, so there would be fewer problems in the future.
Thus, by the end of our third year, thanks to the Time-Turner making us physically eighteen years old, we proceeded with the first part of our plan. Namely, spending a little money to bribe the Head of Azkaban before heading off to meet our dear cousin.
A boat took us to the rocky island surrounded by sea on all sides. It was damp, and judging by how our escort trembled and huddled in his fur coat—cold. He led us across the wet stones straight to the entrance of the dark fortress, where the prison warden was already waiting.
"Mr. and Miss Black, it is a great honor to meet such astounding young talents! I have heard of your victory over the basilisk," the man greeted us with a bright smile. Only his eyes held not admiration but greed. It wasn't hard to guess he hoped to get compromising material from our talk with Bellatrix to extort money from us. But that didn't matter.
We smiled amiably and replied:
"It's our pleasure to meet you as well. But we must apologize—Azkaban isn't the most pleasant place, so we would prefer to speak with our cousin as quickly as possible." (We didn't even try to speak separately, intentionally adding a touch of eeriness for the wizard.)
"Of course, of course! I have everything arranged. Please, follow me."
Inside, Azkaban was no better than outside. And worse—we could feel the influence of the Dementors. This cold was reminiscent of the cold of Cocytus's chains. The same cold we felt within ourselves.
"Here, step inside. I've already arranged for hot chocolate to be brought to you—it will ease the Dementor's influence—and for the inmate to be brought," the man opened a door for us. Behind it was a small room with a table and three chairs, one of which had chains and manacles attached.
"Very well, thank you," we nodded, entered, checked the chairs with magic just in case, and took our seats.
We didn't have to wait long. Barely a few minutes later, two men dragged in a severely emaciated, black-haired woman. She was so weak she couldn't even walk on her own. They sat her in the chair, which immediately came to life, firmly securing the witch to restrict her movements while still allowing limited arm mobility within a radius. Then they left us alone.
"Who are you?" the woman rasped, looking at us. However beautiful she might have been once, prison hadn't spared her.
"I am Vega Regulus Black, heir and future Head of the House of Black, and this is my sister, Vega Andromeda Black. Our father is Regulus Black."
"Little Regulus?" The woman's eyes clouded over for a moment. She seemed lost in memories. However pitiful she looked now, we felt no pity for her. She was a psychopath, and what was happening to her was merely the result of her own actions.
We cast silencing charms around us to avoid eavesdroppers.
"Auntie, do you want the Dark Lord to return?" As soon as Andromeda uttered these words, the eyes of the woman opposite seemed to ignite with fire, and her spirit revived sharply.
"He's returning? You know where he is! Yes?! Did he send you?! I knew he wouldn't forget me!"
"Calm down, Auntie. He truly is returning, but we need your help. He entrusted a very important item to you for safekeeping—the Cup. It can restore him to life. If you give us access to your vault, we promise he will be resurrected within a year. Then, when he has regained his strength, he will free all of you," Regulus tried to calm her burst of madness.
"Yes! I knew it! Of course, of course, OF COURSE! Go on, come here, dear boy, you're as sweet as Regulus. Of course, I'll help. Come on!"
"Here, you need to sign this," Andromeda handed Bellatrix a contract along with a blood quill. Unfortunately, due to her status, confirmation was required in this manner, leaving her magical signature—the best way was blood.
"Alright," surprisingly serious, the woman nodded, read the contract we offered, and finally, wincing slightly in pain, signed.
"You have aided a great cause, Auntie. Now, while we can't do much for you, at least drink some hot chocolate." We handed her the mugs brought for us, then took back the document.
"Thank you," she reached for the mug with trembling hands and took a sip of the sweet liquid, tasting something so delicious for the first time in many years.
"We must go now, bye, Auntie."
"You..." For a moment, she seemed to want to stop us, but seemed to change her mind and said, "Please, bring him back soon."
"As you wish, Auntie," we answered, feeling like complete scoundrels at that moment. Then, while the woman was distracted by the hot chocolate, Regulus, standing behind her, extended his wand.
"Obliviate." Bellatrix froze, and the memories of this meeting were completely erased. We finally headed for the exit.
"Have you finished your business?" the prison warden immediately met us, a slight disappointment on his face.
"Yes," we nodded, and then Regulus took out a small pouch full of Galleons. "This is a bonus, as well as payment for you to let her have something warm and tasty to eat before returning to her cell. That's not a problem, is it?"
"No, no! Don't worry, I'll arrange it," the man greedily snatched the pouch and immediately began counting the money with a very pleased smile.
"By the way, we don't need to explain that it's best if no one knows we were here? For your own good," before leaving, we paused briefly and released a cold that immediately coated the walls in frost as a reminder. Even though we knew that when Voldemort stormed the fortress, everyone who knew would die anyway.
"O-of course, no need. Everything will be fine," the warden stuttered in reply.
"Excellent, then good day," for a clear demonstration, ignoring the anti-Apparition charms, we Apparated home right from there.