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xlii. FORTY-TWO
OPHELIA'S TALE
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THE TRAGIC TALE OF OPHELIA CROUCH WAS ONE THAT MIGHT BRING TEARS TO THE EYES, IF THE LISTENER WAS FEELING PARTICULARLY SYMPATHETIC. There was no selfish side to her story, and nothing that she did ever really happened due to a cruel and sadistic manner that people may have suspected she have. In fact, it was mainly her troubled and complicated childhood years that drove her to break the law in the way that she did. And that is where her sorrowful story starts.
Like any other regular pure-blood couple, Charis Black was married to Caspar Crouch shortly after graduating from Hogwarts in 1937. The two of them then produced an immediate heir to their fortunes, before having their first daughter three years after. The two Crouch children grew up in the same, traditional manner that all of the other pure-blood families portrayed, and each began showing signs of magic from young ages.
It was as the son entered his second year at Hogwarts that Charis Crouch became pregnant again. The third child, and second daughter, was a puny baby when she was born, and therefore was constantly mocked for her weakness. Around the same time as this Crouch's birth, came another arrival from the Black family. However, Narcissa Black was considerably more important than little Ophelia Crouch, and everyone was more than aware of that.
Surprisingly, the youngest girls from both families became close friends almost immediately once reaching Hogwarts, and as they were sorted into the same house of green and silver, just as expected. However, they were drawn closer once the other Slytherins began to tease Ophelia, and Narcissa willingly stood up for her friend, acting as loyal as ever.
The second person whom Ophelia had ever witnessed defend her, was Rabastan Lestrange. And despite the fact that his parents were well aware of the rumours over her supposed weakness, they were willing to arrange a marriage between their second son and the third Crouch child. Whilst Ophelia wasn't too fond of these marriages, she came to adore Rabastan quite fondly, and the two were incredibly close friends by the time they reached their final year.
But she was merely eighteen when both of her parents were pronounced dead by the Healers from St Mungo's, in the early months of 1973. Ophelia had barely seen her siblings during her childhood, and neither of them wanted anything to do with her. After all, why would they want to associate themselves with the weakest Slytherin to ever exist? Nobody wanted to talk to Ophelia, besides Narcissa Black and Rabastan Lestrange, both of whom were (surprisingly) influential people.
It was due to her loneliness as an adolescent, that she struggled immensely with the loss of her parents. Following the deaths of Caspar and Charis Crouch, came frustration, sudden outbursts of fury and violence, or substantial amounts of tears from Ophelia Crouch. It was shocking to see a change from her usual shy, introverted nature, but students still managed to mock her for it all.
"Back off, Rowle," Rabastan Lestrange sneered, his eyes pulled into a cold glare as he warned off the blonde Slytherin boy in their year. "She's lost both of her parents, and she isn't speaking to her brother or sister. She's eighteen and completely alone, she doesn't need you acting like a child around her."
"Ooh, what a great boyfriend you've got, Crouch! He's such a hero, isn't he?" the boy called, swooning mockingly. But then, his eyes flicked over to the girl who stood beside Ophelia, and his lips twitched upwards into a nasty grin. "How are you doing then, Black? My parents were talking about you in their letter the other day, actually. Does Narcissa Rowle sound any good to you?"
"I don't think that's any way for you to talk to my fiancée, Thorfinn," another voice said, and Narcissa glanced over her shoulder, a proud smile on her face.
Ophelia was pleased that Narcissa had been engaged to Lucius Malfoy, not least of which because they actually loved one another. Lucius towered above Thorfinn Rowle as he spoke. "Now, like Rabastan said, you should be going. Ophelia doesn't need to hear your foolish comments anymore."
As Thorfinn stormed off, apparently defeated, the four students were left to smirk at their achievement. However, as Rabastan pulled her into a hug, Ophelia reflected on what the Rowle boy had said to her. She knew that she'd always loathed these arranged marriages because of how protective and powerful the husbands became, yet she'd never imagined Rabastan to be like that. However, the words echoed in her mind repeatedly, and she started to wonder: Perhaps Rabastan Lestrange would turn out to be what she'd always despised so strongly?
Ophelia pushed him away from her fiercely, untangling herself from his arms, and promptly yanking the ring off of her finger. Within seconds, the piece of jewellery that she had cherished for so long had clattered to the floor in front of Rabastan's feet. And then, she was running out of the Great Hall, a mix of enraged and sorrowful tears streaming down her cheeks.
It was just as they knew it: her emotions were everywhere. She didn't know what to do with herself anymore, and it was more than evident to everyone who watched her flee the Hall.
Narcissa tore after her, following the girl down corridors until the reached the Slytherin common room. Apparently, Ophelia was oblivious to the few second-years who were scattered across the seats, as she started crying hysterically, shouting and yelling at Narcissa whenever she offered her help. Shortly after the girls had entered, both Rabastan and Lucius hurried in.
"No, just go away!" she shouted, and several of the second-years shot both irritated glares and terrified glances over in their direction. "For goodness sake, Rabastan, I'm not marrying you! Why won't you accept that? My parents can't do anything to stop me, and neither can yours, or you! Bloody hell, leave me alone!"
Narcissa blinked. She quickly glanced at the two boys beside her, who looked equally as shocked. Lucius backed away a little in surprise at her outburst, but Rabastan stayed rooted to the spot. There was no anger on his face at all, which was surprising. Normally, when confronted like this, he would fight back immediately. Instead, he sighed and raised his hands in some form of surrender. Ophelia glared at him.
"What are you doing?" she spat.
"I'm not going to fight back, Ophelia. If you don't want to marry me, then that's how it'll be," he said, shrugging a little. "I really do care about you, Ophelia. Just don't do anything stupid, will you?"
Ophelia sniggered. "The only stupid thing I ever did, was play by the rules of my family, and let them get me engaged to you," she hissed at him, which he flinched at, although the movement wasn't too obvious. "The wedding is off, Lestrange. For good."
She stormed towards her dorm room, enfuriated. Narcissa exchanged a worried glance with both of the students beside her, before hurrying after her friend.
"What are you doing, Ophelia? You didn't mean that, surely? He's still your fiancé!" Narcissa shrieked. "Alright, forget the fact that you're technically still engaged to him, it's fine. But he's still your best friend, and you've just broken him apart!"
Ophelia burst into her dorm room, the door slamming against the wall as she forced it open. Narcissa flinched as she walked in after her.
"We are not getting married," she said sternly, and Narcissa coughed uncomfortably. She'd never seen Ophelia be in so much control, or act so bitterly. She hated it, and she wanted her friend back. Her calm, sweet-natured, and amusing friend. Not this one. This wasn't Ophelia Crouch at all. "Get out, Narcissa. I don't want to talk to anyone right now."
But Narcissa didn't leave. She watched, slightly heartbroken, as Ophelia began packing her belongings into her trunk, apparently oblivious to the tears that were streaming down her face. But when they became too much, she stopped forcing clothes into the case, and slumped down onto her bed. Hesitantly, Narcissa made her way over to where her friend sat, sobbing, and wrapped her arm around the girl.
"Maybe just think about this whole wedding, before jumping to conclusions," Narcissa suggested hopefully as Ophelia slowly leaned into her side. "This might just be one of those moments when you're so emotional you can't think straight."
"No, it isn't," Ophelia denied quickly. "I shouldn't have shouted at him like that, you're right. But I'm not marrying him, Narcissa. I'm not marrying anyone."
Narcissa sighed heavily. "Perhaps you'll meet someone nice later? But please, don't let your relationship with Rabastan end like this. He's a good friend to you, I promise that. He doesn't need to be your enemy, just because you're not marrying him."
Ophelia stood up again, and Narcissa smiled. She presumed that the girl had come to the end of her breakdown, and would go out to talk to Rabastan. But she was left to stare in horror and Ophelia sniffled, and continued packing her clothes away.
"What-?" Narcissa asked, confused. "What are you-?"
"I'm going to join him," she stated blankly, before her dreamy expression turned into pure determination. "If they still all think that I'm weak? Well, we'll see what they have to say when I become the most powerful Death Eater, shall we? When I'm the most wanted criminal; feared for my ruthless murders and torture techniques? I will not be laughed at, Narcissa, you'll see!"
And then, it was Narcissa Black who felt like crying.
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MELORA BLINKED BACK at Narcissa.
"So, what does my mother have to do with it all?" she asked, confusion swarming her brain.
"It's complicated," her aunt sighed. "She was heavily involved in her disappearance, like I said. But I'm not sure if now is the time to explain all of that. I don't want to fill you with too many details."
Melora shrugged. "I'll be fine with it. I'd like to know."
But Narcissa only shook her head. "You know most of the story now. I'm sure I can tell you the rest of it at a later date. Just please, don't ask your mother about it, Melora. I don't think it would go all too well."
She knew exactly what she'd be doing soon.
Melora was a stupidly ambitious child, and she would find out the full story for herself. Even though Narcissa was the one who knew it best - other than Ophelia herself, of course - so she figured it would be the most logical solution for her to get the information from her aunt. After all, if she went to Bellatrix for answers, she knew she would receive anger, above all emotions. For Bellatrix Lestrange and Ophelia Crouch had never been on good terms with one another. But it seemed as though she had no choice, since Narcissa continued to refuse to elaborate on the tale she had told so far.
Melora rolled her eyes as her aunt left the room, sighing as she heard her mutter something about 'sorting out that Mudblood in the cellar'. Of course, Dillan's questioning had come to an end, and their uses for him no longer existed. Submitting Mudbloods like him to the Ministry provided rewards, which the Malfoys clearly desired.
She felt horrible for not putting a stop to it. But equally, if she did turn on her family, she wouldn't be safe from them. Bellatrix would kill her in a heartbeat. And even if she somehow managed to get away, she would be hunted down - she would be their most wanted prey. Besides Harry Potter, though. She wouldn't ever be quite as desired by her family as he was.
In the brief moments that she had spent thinking about her selfishness and life threatening scenarios, she came to realise that her aunt had actually been bringing visitors through to the room directly beside the one that Melora was seated in. She could hear their voices if she listened carefully enough, so that was precisely what she did.
"My son, Draco, is home for the Easter holidays," she was saying, which worried Melora enough in itself. Why did everything seem to happen to Draco? She was grateful, to some extent. She wouldn't have wanted to kill Dumbledore. But then, she felt incredibly guilty that her cousin seemed to be receiving all of the negativity from it all. Narcissa spoke again, and what she said seemed to pique Melora's interest a little. "If that is Harry Potter, he will know."
More muttering came from the room beside her, and she couldn't quite pick up on anything. Her heart was hammering through her chest, tearing through her ribs, itching to get out. It wanted to view the action for itself. She wanted to go and view the action.
"Well, boy?" a voice said, wheezing slightly. She didn't recognise the sound of it, and couldn't name the person without seeing them.
A moment of silence passed, and Melora was desperate to go and find out what was happening. She refrained from doing so.
"Well, Draco? Is it Harry Potter?"
"I- I can't be sure," her cousin stammered. She, if no one else was able to, could hear the panic in his voice. She could tell that he feared what would happen if Harry Potter was identified before him, within his home. He didn't want it to happen, yet everyone surrounding him desired it so much more, so it seemed stupid to not participate with the excitement.
For a long while, there was silence as Draco presumably inspected someone's face, before insisting he didn't recognise them. Melora had rolled her eyes more than once during this time period. To hear her uncle's excitement, to listen to her cousin's terror, it was all so pathetic. What was she part of?
She nearly screamed when a loud POP! echoed around her, and she was left to stare, terrified, at the being who had just appeared in her home. But she shouldn't have been terrified. Not at all. She smiled at the elf who stood before her, still wearing her jacket, and laughed as it happily squealed her name.
"Miss Lestrange!" Daize cried, a smile plastered on her tiny face as she met Melora's eyes. "Daize said that she is always here to help Miss Lestrange, whenever she needs her!"
Melora's smile dissolved into a frown, which she fired at the elf immediately. Help? I don't think I need any right now, Daize, but thank you."
Daize shuffled her feet awkwardly. "B-but Daize thought that Miss Lestrange would need her, because Harry Potter is here, and-"
"So it is him?" she smirked. But she wouldn't turn him in, like her family expected her to do. In fact, she would do the exact opposite. The elf before her mirrored her smile, and she laughed lightly. "There's definitely going to be some sort of catastrophic fight soon. I need you to do something for me, OK?"
The elf nodded excitedly.
"Right," she sighed, pausing to think about what it was exactly that she wanted to happen. "I need you to take Dillan Medhurst to his girlfriend. He'll tell you where to go. Then, once you get there, take both of them to Ilia Nyxeris. When that's done, Daize, come back to me." She paused again. "Come with me into that room beside us, and go to get Dillan when I tell you to. He's in the cellar."
She then walked into the room where a rather large meeting appeared to be ongoing, playing the part of a confused resident of Malfoy Manor. She pulled her brows together, her eyes began flicking between the three supposed prisoners, and then over at all of the Death Eaters and Snatchers who were surrounding them. Again, she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.
"What's happened?" she asked as innocently as she could, her gaze turning to her aunt, whom she had been having a regular conversation with, not much earlier. She gestured to the people who were inside her home when they were not supposed to be, "Who are these people?"
"Melora," Lucius smiled, and she shivered a little at the sight of him. It was a horrible grin, she realised. It wasn't cruel like her mother's, or cold like her aunt's could be. It was sickly, and so obviously fake. She loathed Lucius Malfoy almost as much as he loathed her. "You went to Hogwarts with Potter a few years ago, didn't you? Why don't you come over and see what you think?"
She hesitated, before heading over to where the boy stood. Tentatively, she glanced at his face, before shrugging slightly. Suddenly, she understood exactly how her cousin was feeling. Why would she hand Harry Potter over so easily? And to betray George like that? To betray Ilia, Fred, Lee and Ginny? She wouldn't. Melora shook her head after a while.
"No idea," she stated blankly, "It's difficult, when his face is all like that."
There was a cold laugh from the end of the room, and Melora felt colour rushing to her cheeks as her mother joined them all in the room. She glanced back at the boy whom she could barely recognise as Harry Potter, and briefly noticed his fear as well. Bellatrix slowly made her way over to the centre of the room, where the group had gathered.
"What's happened, Cissy?" she asked, but Melora could tell by the smirk on her lips that she knew exactly what had happened. She looked away from her daughter, who still stood before the boy whom they suspected to be Harry Potter, and let her gaze fall upon the girl. Her grin widened. "But surely... this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"
"Yes, yes! It's Granger, and this is Potter!" Lucius exclaimed, his excitement barely contained anymore. Melora sighed quietly. He might as well start jumping up and down and clapping his hands together like a young child; he wouldn't look any more ridiculous than he already did.
"Potter?" her mother shrieked. She stepped away from them quickly, as to take in the boy's appearance better from a distance. She grinned after a while of horrible silence, and dragged back her sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark that Melora also brandished on her forearm (although she was considerably less proud of doing so). "Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed!"
"Yes, and I was about to do that!" Lucius said sharply, grabbing her mother's arm to stop her from calling the Dark Lord. Melora's heart genuinely couldn't beat any faster than it already was.
There was struggling as both Bellatrix and Lucius fought over who should call the Dark Lord to them, since they now had hold of Potter. It was pathetic to watch, and in any other circumstance she probably would have laughed at them, but she was feeling far too stressed to even care. Just as long as he didn't turn to her when he got there, she didn't mind...
"WAIT! STOP!" her mother yelled, quite suddenly. "Do not touch it, or we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"
Bellatrix moved over to one of the Snatchers who stood behind the three who were now officially named as Harry, Ron and Hermione, her eyes narrowed. She scowled at the man, her voice a hissing noise as she spat out her anger.
"What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the object that he clasped tightly in his hand. "Where'd you get that from?"
"It was in her bag when we searched her," the man replied smugly, his mouth tugging into a smile in the corners. "I reckon it's mine now."
Melora was fully aware of just how much power her mother had when she used Non-Verbal spells, but she seemed to have forgotten. For when she witnessed it happen again, the Snatchers each collapsed to the floor, either writhing in pain, or lying still. For one short moment, she could remember the first nightmare of her mother, from when she escaped the manor and Bellatrix became violent towards people for it. She desperately tried to shake the memory, but it was near impossible when the scene was replaying before her eyes, too.
"Get out! GET OUT!" Bellatrix screamed at those who remained on the floor, and she watched, full of fury, as they scampered away. As she turned to the three who still stood before Melora, she could truly see the rage that her mother was feeling. She'd been set on fire, yes, but it fueled her. Bellatrix turned to her sister. "Put them in the cellar!" she said, pointing to Harry and Ron, before she turned to Hermione, and her evil grin returned to her face. "I'd like to have a little conversation with this one... girl to girl."
Daize had moved to stand behind Melora now, and during the scramble to get the boys down into the cellar with the other prisoners, she glanced back at her house-elf in order to speak to her, as quickly as she could.
"Now, Daize," she said sternly, but the elf was only nodding with glee. She was still willing to serve Melora Lestrange, regardless of whether or not she was free.
Once Harry and Ron were safely locked away, and the others had moved away from the cellar, Daize Apparated inside to take Dillan Medhurst away. Melora turned to where her mother now stood with Hermione, a knife drawn, and its tip pressing against the girl's skin. Melora inhaled one, single, shaky breath.
"They'll be safe with Ilia," Melora muttered to reassure herself that she'd done the correct thing. "If I can do anything for Dillan, it's get him out of the mess that I put him in."
She watched, guilt swarming her stomach and climbing into the back of her throat threateningly, as her mother tortured the girl before her.
"I didn't take anything!" Hermione pleaded.
Bellatrix's voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but Melora heard it. "I don't believe you."
The knife sunk into Hermione's arm, and her first scream rang in Melora's head. She could almost relate to the pain that the girl was feeling, for she too had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. But this time, it wasn't magic. Perhaps that was better, or perhaps that was worse. But either way, it didn't block out Hermione's agonising cries of pain.