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HRA# CHAPTER 135
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 22:40:03 +0000 UTC“Is it over?” Seeing Harry approach, Dias tilted his head slightly. “Faster than I expected, and, well, much calmer too. You alright, Harry?”
“Thanks, I’m fine,” Harry replied, his expression weary but resolute. He let out a deep sigh. “Let’s go… we should get moving.”
“Wait a sec,” Baldwin scratched his head. “According to protocol, we should check Black’s cell before we leave.”
“Come on, Raoul,” Dias said impatiently, clapping his companion on the back. “Take a look at who’s standing in front of you. Do you really think the Boy Who Lived would help a traitor? No offense, Harry.”
Harry shook his head, signaling it was no bother.
“Well… alright,” Baldwin nodded after a moment’s thought. “You’ve got a point. Let’s get out of here—honestly, I’d rather not come back unless I have to.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Dias sighed heavily.
The group retraced their steps toward the exit. As they passed a cell, Lucius suddenly stopped. Unlike before, a woman now stood by the iron bars.
Her hair was a tangled mess, and the bulging blue veins running from her hands to her arms were unnervingly prominent. Her filthy face was hard to make out, but her eyes were impossible to ignore—deep, dark, and hollow, as if nothing lay behind them.
“…Lucius,” the woman’s voice rasped, chillingly demonic, like something crawled up from the depths of the Nether.
“Bellatrix…” Lucius uttered her name, his expression a mix of emotions. “Are you… alright?”
“Alright?” The woman called Bellatrix let out a jagged laugh, each cackle threatening to collapse into a faint. “Of course I’m alright—I can feel the Master’s presence. He’s drawing closer, returning. The Mark grows stronger—haha, hahahaha!”
“Enough, you mad hag!” Dias snapped, yanking the wooden baton from his belt and slamming it against the bars beside Bellatrix. The baton was standard issue for Azkaban’s guards, used to silence unruly prisoners—or teach them to stay silent.
He looked ready to strike her, but Bellatrix merely raised her hand. Dias flinched, scampering back several steps like a startled rabbit.
Her laughter grew wilder, sharp and piercing. She mocked the cowardly guard, ridiculing how even in her weakened state, he feared her. “Pathetic Ministry! Pathetic justice—ha!”
“Bellatrix… Bellatrix Lestrange?” Harry’s voice cut through. The name clicked in his mind, one Neville had mentioned before—a notorious Death Eater, locked away in Azkaban.
His words drew Bellatrix’s attention. Her gaze shifted from Dias, locking onto Harry.
“Harry! Potter!” Each syllable dripped with venom and rage. Bellatrix gnashed her teeth, her voice thick with hatred. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
Her filthy nails clawed at the air, as if she could tear through the bars to strangle Harry and avenge her master.
Her outburst startled Dias and Baldwin, and even Lucius flinched. Harry, however, moved swiftly. He grabbed the baton from Baldwin’s waist as the guard stumbled back, then swung it without hesitation, smashing it down on Bellatrix’s arm as it reached through the bars.
Crack!
Louder than the thud of wood on flesh was the sharp snap of breaking bone. Harry hadn’t held back, and though Bellatrix instinctively recoiled, her left arm now bent at an unnatural angle, impossible for any human.
Jagged white bone pierced through her skin, blood seeping out. Bellatrix, defiant—perhaps refusing to shame Voldemort in front of Harry—didn’t scream. Her teeth ground together, her right hand clutching her upper arm to stem the blood.
It all happened in mere moments. The two guards and Lucius were still processing the scene, disbelief etched on their faces.
“Sorry, Mr. Baldwin,” Harry said, his tone tense as he handed the baton back to the stunned guard. “She startled me—uh, sorry.”
“…No, it’s fine,” Baldwin stammered, mechanically reattaching the baton to his belt. He patted Harry’s shoulder gently, as if afraid to spook him. “Don’t worry, just a madwoman, Harry.”
“Yeah, just a madwoman,” Dias chimed in, rushing over to check Harry for injuries. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No,” Harry shook his head. “Shouldn’t we stop her bleeding?”
After years in Azkaban, Bellatrix’s body was already at its limit. Now, with a broken arm and blood pooling beneath her, she looked paler, slumping against the floor, barely clinging to consciousness.
“Oh, right, right—stop the bleeding,” Dias said, Harry’s words snapping him out of his daze. He drew his wand and pointed it at Bellatrix. “Episkey.”
The simple healing charm had a less-than-simple effect. Bellatrix dazedly raised her left arm, still twisted at an odd angle, but the bleeding had stopped, and the wound appeared closed—though closed might be generous.
“Well, looks like my spellwork’s a bit off,” Dias said awkwardly to Harry. “But it’s fine. She’s alright, I think. Just a filthy Death Eater, anyway. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” Harry replied briskly. “I hope my actions didn’t cause any trouble.”
“Of course not, Harry,” Dias said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Right,” Harry said, glancing back at Bellatrix, who glared at him with venomous eyes. “Don’t worry, Bellatrix Lestrange—there are people out there waiting to settle scores with you.”
His tone was so calm, one might’ve thought he was inviting her to dinner.
“…Haha, hahaha,” Bellatrix paused, then licked her cracked lips. “I can’t wait…”
Without another word, Dias and Baldwin flanked Harry as they continued toward the exit, their voices echoing faintly in the corridor.
“Harry, dear Harry—I mean, you’re really not hurt, are you?”
“No, sir.”
“Good, good. Uh, I have a suggestion—or rather, an idea.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“Since you’re unharmed, when you get out, if anyone from the Ministry asks about your time in Azkaban, could you… maybe not mention Bellatrix?”
“You want me to cover up that she attacked me?”
“Well, it was an—yes! An attack! The higher-ups probably don’t want to hear about it, so…?”
“No problem at all. I’ve caused you both enough trouble today.”
“That’s fantastic, Harry.”
“…”
Their voices faded as they moved on. Lucius lingered, glancing back at Bellatrix. Her unsettling gaze met his, sending a shiver down his spine. He turned and hurried after Harry, not looking back.
No further incidents occurred. Harry and Lucius left Azkaban on the same boat that brought them, with Dias and Baldwin escorting them back to the mainland.
“Well done, Lucius,” Harry said as the boat faded into the distance.
“It’s my honor to serve you, my lord,” Lucius replied with a slight bow. “Hardly any trouble.”
“No, I mean the Ministry’s actions,” Harry said, turning to him. “I read in the papers—Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and the Auror Office searched Malfoy Manor?”
“Yes, that Arthur Weasley, the blood traitor!” Lucius’s temper flared at the mention. He gritted his teeth. “It’s not even about Muggles—he’s just out to get the Malfoys. That power-abusing fool, with his brood of—”
“Ron’s my friend,” Harry interjected coolly.
“—children, who are all quite fine,” Lucius pivoted smoothly, his tone softening instantly. “I hear their eldest, Bill, is gifted with charms, highly regarded by goblins. And Charlie’s an excellent dragon tamer. We met him at a dragon reserve in Romania—fine young man.”
Harry: “…”
Lucius’s shift was so swift it left Harry momentarily speechless. Truly a product of Voldemort’s training.
“No need for that, Lucius,” Harry said, exasperated. “I’m not Voldemort. I don’t need your fear or reverence—nor do I need you openly siding with Dumbledore.”
At the mention of Voldemort, Lucius flinched—a common reflex in the wizarding world.
But Harry’s latter words caught his attention more.
“The Malfoys stand with you, always. There’s no siding with Dumbledore,” Lucius said, pledging loyalty before cautiously adding, “What do you mean by—?”
“In the eyes of most British wizards, the Malfoys are Death Eater scum who bought their way out of justice after Voldemort’s fall. Don’t bother denying it,” Harry cut in before Lucius could protest. “And I need you to keep it that way.”
“…As a spy?” Lucius’s heart skipped a beat, his mind flashing to his friend Severus Snape, a spy who’d faced countless dangers.
“No, not a spy,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t need you infiltrating Voldemort’s ranks for information. Your task is simple: operate in the shadows as a Death Eater, gathering those still loyal to him, unwilling to let his cause die—individuals or families.”
In essence, Harry wanted Lucius to draw out the enemy, setting them up for a single, decisive strike.
“No true evil acts, no killing innocents, and no harming the innocent,” Harry stated calmly, laying out strict boundaries.
“That… might be difficult,” Lucius said with a wry smile. “The few who remain don’t exactly trust the Malfoys. Twelve years ago, to clear my name, I turned over evidence against some of them.”
He hesitated but didn’t dare hide anything from Harry. Despite Harry’s kindness and justice, Lucius never doubted his instincts—Harry, like Voldemort, was powerful and uncompromising when crossed.
“That’s fine. Just do your best,” Harry said, unconcerned. It was a minor move in a larger game. “Most importantly, while rallying these Death Eaters, look for signs of Voldemort—or anything unusual that approaches you.”
Lucius’s face paled.
“The Dark Lord… isn’t he dead?” he forced a weak smile.
“I can tell you plainly, Lucius, Voldemort isn’t fully gone,” Harry said, locking eyes with him. “Last year, I captured his main soul fragment—but that doesn’t mean he’s gone for good.”
“Great! My loyalty is yours forever!” Lucius dropped to one knee without hesitation, shouting his devotion.
Harry: “…”
No wonder Voldemort tolerated the Malfoys’ duplicity. Lucius was sharp—too sharp. Before Harry could even process the implications, Lucius had already weighed his options, choosing the stronger, closer power to serve.
Especially after hearing Voldemort’s main soul was captured by Harry—a first-year Hogwarts student at the time—Lucius lowered his head further, awed and convinced of Harry’s truth.
“Is this the Malfoy survival instinct?” Harry muttered, half-amused. “You don’t need to be this cautious. I’m not Voldemort… Never mind, you’re not listening.”
Lucius remained silent, head bowed even lower. Harry sighed.
“Voldemort split his soul into who-knows-how-many pieces and hid them,” Harry explained. “He might approach you as you gather his old followers. Your job is to keep him at bay and notify me. Understood?”
“Understood,” Lucius replied respectfully.
“Good,” Harry nodded. “Also, actively seek out anything that might hold a piece of Voldemort’s soul. Notify me when you find something, and I’ll reward you accordingly.”
“Serving you is reward enough,” Lucius said quickly.
“Enough with the flattery,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Do well, and I’ll reward you. That’s all.”
Even the Old Gods offered incentives to their followers; Harry knew the value of rewards.
“Yes, my lord,” Lucius stood, bowing again. “But to gain their trust, I may need to… act in ways that align with them. For instance, Arthur Weasley has searched Malfoy Manor multiple times. I’ll need to retaliate…”
He trailed off, hesitant.
“Then retaliate,” Harry said after a moment. “But don’t break my rules. Clear?”
Given Harry’s understanding of the wizarding world, any retaliation, bound by his restrictions, would likely amount to petty Hogwarts-style squabbles—Slytherin versus Gryffindor corridor spats. Every British wizard who’d survived seven years at Hogwarts was well-versed in such games.
“Of course not,” Lucius said, relieved.
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T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
