Her lack of vision is her fatal mistake. Bellatrix refuses to adapt, she refuses to believe that the cause as it was is dead. Even if she somehow manages to bring Lord Voldemort back from whatever abyss he is, the world is not the same as before. The alliances have shifted; power has to be achieved some other way. What his wife doesn’t want to see is that she is the only one clinging onto a past no one even wants anymore. “Your ideas are only clearer because I want it that way, because I don’t care. You’re chasing a dream, Bellatrix, and no one’s following you. Who do you have on your side, realistically? Fenrir Greyback, he will betray you if he sees a better deal. The Carrows? They’re children. My brother, maybe? You think you can sway him? You know how useful he is, you saw his behaviour during the trial. You’re alone. And you’re lost.” He huffs. “Can’t you see? This power you say I can’t handle is meant to be mine, and you could share it with me; but you stubbornly refuse.” He glares, but a little smirk appears across his lips. “You are too predictable. If you knew anything, you would be bragging right now.” 

Rodolphus’ stare is icy as he meets her gaze. Fire and ice, as always, wrestling one another. In a swift movement he takes hold of her wrist, gripping it a little too tightly. “Oh but you do. You know you do, and it kills you.”

His abandonment of the cause is what she cannot wrap her head around, his constant inability to remain loyal is laughable. “How will you maintain followers if they are all content on hiding in the shadows like you? The second you turn your back, they’ll be conspiring against you already. You’re talking of numbers being the indicator of success, but yours are far more disposable than they’ve ever been before.” Despite his grip on her, she presses forward, unflinching as her free hand pushes him back. It’s an assertion of dominance if anything.  “I will not be telling you anything, regardless.” Her words are attempted weapons, hoping to shove into his open eyes. 

“In this instance your sympathies aren’t required. At least this match isn’t my mother’s doing.” Antonine replied, unable to stifle the bitterness in her voice at the mention of her mother. Celeste Dolohov had always been far too greedy when it came to the engagements that she orchestrated for her daughter, she expected too much of the young men that presented themselves and had made quite a few enemies out of highly respected families for the sheer amount of disrespect she had shown. This was just another mess left for Antonine to build as she mended bridges and weaved through the rejected suitors to find one worthy of her. As it turned out many of the young boys that had been cast aside had actually become respectful members of pureblood society. Antonine had no interest in someone too smart or powerful though she wanted to be the one in control and pulling the strings in the marriage. Goyle made the perfect candidate.

“I’m here to see Goyle. He and I are seeing each other.” She admitted, knowing full well this would earn some disbelief from her companion. Goyle was about as appealing as a toad.

“Then where has this match come from? If it’s your own doing you should hardly be whining to incessantly about it. You’re about to give me, as well as Goyle a monstrous headache.” Her words feel like they are forced out from between her teeth, making it obvious that she was about to steer the conversation into a topic that held weight. She personally could not find the will to care about the witch’s romantic companions. As long as he was not about to convince her to give up the fight, his presence was irrelevant. “Are you aware of the crisis dropping around this place? Or have you stopped all ambitions on the prospect of a match?” 

His smile suddenly turned borderline sinister. Didn’t she understand, that the only thing she was going to get if she kept this up was cruelty? Not violence, but stinging, rotting, toxic poison. “Isn’t it funny? Now that you mention it, I don’t think you have idea what he left behind either, Bellatrix. Have you found anything inside all those books? You say I’m being too passive, well what are you doing? Sitting inside a library like an oversized mouse. Have you even found a way to reach them, or do you go to our family vault to whine to a relic about your daily troubles?”

There was a moment of silence, the tension in the room sharp, like an icy knife - a spectre lurking in the shadows. Rodolphus could feel his jaw clench, his hand turned into a fist that he slammed against the wooden surface. The sound resonated inside the empty room as the books on the table trembled slightly. He didn’t even bother to stand up, but when he spoke again, his voice was filled with contained anger. “You will take orders from me if I please. You would be dead if it wasn’t for me Bellatrix. Every little bit of your soul sucked in by a different dementor. You would be nothing. You better remember that.”

His change in demeanor excited her, whispered to the person he once was --the man who had the ability to take victories. The anger was all that provoked his terror. She can feel his words attempting to shove her off her feet, make her stumble into his plans. Plans that hauntingly surrounded the entire room. “You have no idea what I know --as we have already established. My ideas of his remains are clearer than yours, instead of looking you have chosen to abandon them. A courtesy I will surely continue once you inevitably fall out of your Minister chair, choking on the power you can’t handle.” She is about to brag but chooses the further malicious route. “What business do you have knowing what I have found?” 

She watches her sister cut through the crowd like a freshly sharpened blade all but singing for blood. It’s not a pretty sight, but Narcissa knows better than to look away; to flinch and show weakness. It is an awareness of all that Bellatrix is doing incorrectly that causes the younger sibling to intervene. “Bella.” She steps forward and ushers the victim away with a dismissive flick of her hand, their mouth still agape in shock at the sudden confrontation. Or horror. “Bella,” Narcissa says again, softer this time as she holds a gaze that she almost didn’t recognise upon her sister’s release from prison. It is angrier, deadlier, and it is no longer the one that she remembers from childhood.

“You know how risky it is for you to be causing a scene here of all places.” Narcissa doesn’t mean to chide, but it is concern that prompts the words – surely Bellatrix was meant to be convincing people that she didn’t belong in Azkaban. She reaches out carefully, fingertips grazing the back of her sister’s hand in a small show of comfort as if to soothe an otherwise snarling, distressed creature. “That poor soul will certainly remember to look where they’re walking in the future,” she adds, a hint of amusement toying across her lips.

“Cissy, this is hardly a scene.” She could hear her little sister’s teeth scratching into judgment, attempts at climbing above her to finally be able to gain a listener. Bellatrix couldn’t let her ears out to hear anything other than her own thoughts lately, her thoughts which were consumed with Voldemort’s words. Narcissa, she could tell, was reaching her pale arms up as high as she possibly could trying to get a jump on her older sister. Bellatrix was immune to budging. It was her goal alone that was pushing her forward, no matter how many times she felt Narcissa want to pull her away. 

“Of course,” he nods in mock sincerity. “I mean you’re doin’ them a favor in the end really.” He flashes her a smirk of his own as he follows her through the atrium. The act is so effortless he doesn’t put much thought behind it, he would follow the witch much further than through a crowded government building, and he isn’t exactly quite sure how he should feel about that. She thus far has been the one constant in this whole alliance, no matter how many times he disagreed with Rodolphus, she was always there. Her mere presence reminding him the importance that he stay in their ranks.

“No, but he did yesterday,” he replies quietly, making sure no prying ears could be listening in as they moved away from the crowd. “It seems like he may be finally willin’ to get his hands a little dirty for once. At least through me anyway.” His eyes remain forward as they make their way to their destination, not wanting to appear too suspicious. When it appears they are fully out of earshot from anyone else he speaks again. “He asked me to do a hit on Doge’s daughter and her family. ‘Clean, but chaotic’ are the words he used. It’s supposed to go down later tonight.” 

She nods, thrusting them both out of the open space, through the long halls to stop in an empty room. It was small enough which she could review all entrances and possible peepholes, a green light loaded to end any prying ears. “He’s willing to delegate violence, as he always does. He wants to sit up in his desk chair while the rest of us attack where he points like rabid dogs.” Her anger bubbles upon her tongue, spitting out distaste the more she speaks. “Rodolphus is capable of fighting his own battles, he’s being a coward making you fall into the dirty work.” 

Cassius has no interest in being caught up in the firestorm that is Bellatrix’s wrath and so he waits until she has vented her spleen and the poor soul has scuttled away, squeaking obsequious apologies, before cutting through the crowds to intercept her. “Bellatrix….What a surprise seeing you here…” For once he was almost being genuine. Bellatrix had always been someone he’d assumed shared his distaste for the Ministry. For a moment he wondered if she’d heard about Rodolphus’s pretty little secretary and intended to descend upon the poor girl in a flurry of rage….it would no doubt be quite the show but somehow Cassius felt he would be derived of such entertainment. The set of her jaw seemed to indicate a more serious, more subtle business.

“I assume I owe the pleasure to this latest revelation about our mutual friend.” It’s not a reference to Rodolphus but an old code, one that dates back to the war, when they had all been brought together by one man. The Dark Lord.

“I was under the impression that it took far more to surprise you Cassius. Is there a problem?” Her tone is poking, not light enough to be considered a mock but far enough from her sharp glare that she was not trying to dig into his beating chest. She had shown her presence in the Ministry to track down her own soldiers, it was lucky that a potential one appeared immediately before her. “You do, yes.” 

“I couldn’t do that to my brother, unfortunately.” She respected Bellatrix, perhaps more than most people, but Amycus was where she drew the line. She only hoped the other woman could understand that sort of loyalty, the one you’d have for your family. “But we could ask him. He’s as dedicated as we are and I don’t doubt he will prove his loyalty.” If he wasn’t going to do it for Bellatrix, she was sure he was going to do it for her. That was how her and her brother worked 

Alecto titled her head, suddenly curious. “Did he know? About Doge. He seemed baffled when the whole situation happened. At first I thought it was because he thought their envelopes were going to have pictures of him inside them.” A little smile crept up her face, imagining that situation. “Of course we will. People like Doge are nothing but traitors. Spies are easily turned. That’s why we need to keep a close eye on them. Take Pettigrew, for example. He could become a liability.”

“Of course, approach him with it. The hassle would be far too large to go behind his back for such a simplicity. I see no reason for him to turn us down, though I am not positive of his loyalty to my goals. I would appreciate you to be sure of his intentions before asking him for favors.” She wanted others to follow her, but she didn’t have time for them to stray out of her vision. Watching over immature children was essential when they had a leader, but she could not afford their mistakes this time around. “No.”

With every step, the atmosphere clouds, a storm brewing over-head. She knows that it’s silly, she knows that the sun is shining outside, but here, it feels as if doom is upon. People stand in huddled groups, whispering to one and other, unyielding and untrusting. Others accuse with open suspicion - casting aspersion upon the natures of the many. The murder has shaken them all. No one is the same anymore. Alice herself can hardly believe it. She had trusted him…they all had. One of Dumbledore’s oldest friends. 

The darkness truly was near when the love of someone important turns to hate.

Seeking Frank and lost along the wandering paths of her mind, Alice scarcely notices where she’s going - doing her best to weave in out and between the throngs of people. Had she, she would have taken more care. She would have done anything she could to have avoided Bellatrix Lestrange.

The voice, usually soft but strong, fades, the words dying at her lips. Suddenly, the world disappears and there is only the two of them. Fear creeps up her spine, breath growing heavy. “What..” Alice almost asks why she’s here, until she remembers. The world forgave her. They pardoned her. And then, she’s furious. But in the war between terror and anger, the former wins. “I - I’m going.”

She lived to frighten, to push potential shrieks underneath the skin.  Bellatrix did not regret her damage she had done to innocents. The apology drawn out from the Ministry for their accusation of the Longbottom’s torture was akin to having a winning trophy snatched from her grasp. She earned the fear from their screaming pupils. It was a betrayal of authority’s part to take that from her. Though the jump she knew the other witch itched to make backward once seeing her was an adequate consolation prize. “Are you?” 

He chose to ignore Bellatrix’s comment, not wanting to lose control any further. He knew what she was doing, she knew her game perfectly well. She was trying to wind him up, lead him to take a rash decision that could damage his objectives, but be beneficial for her. She wasn’t going to get it, though. He already had a plan, he knew how to handle this. “I could have taken him down myself if you had told me about him, Bellatrix. Instead, you chose to keep the secrets of your school sweetheart. That’s why I’m recommending you to tell me now if you know of any others, and if you have any idea of what that note is talking about. Believe me, it’s in your best interest to do so.” If his last words sounded borderline threatening, it was because he had intended them to do so. 

“Not only me, us all. Who do you think people will suspect first if they think there are people still working for Lord Voldemort, huh? I don’t need to remind you where we were, where we came from.” He nodded quickly. “I intent to. But I need you to stay put, at least for a while. I’m planning on gathering the families together, talking about how they should act for now.”

She wanted him writhing, desperately clinging to his precious self-control. But --he’d grown accustomed to blocking her out, as well as any prying, pushing, words she attempted to nudge under his skin. That hardly meant she was going to stop trying. “You obviously cannot be trusted with these matters any longer. Look at you, thinking that you’re in charge when you don’t have the slightest idea of what he left behind.” 

For weeks now Antonine had been pursuing her latest venture which unfortunately had to do with a man who had come very close to earning her hand in marriage when they were only teens. It had all been her mother’s doing back then and Antonine had for once fought the elder woman’s capricious whims and refused. But now that Goyle had become a man of considerable power she was reconsidering even if each second spent in his company was dull beyond belief and made her more murderous than amorous. Today, she had once again found herself in his office for a quick rendez-vous.

Just as she figured the day would be just as grim as the last half hour had been she was treated to a scene. Wherever Bellatrix Black passed she made a point to terrify with her glares and poisonous words and it was always a most envigorating sight. Rather than put the poor woman who had stepped in Bellatrix’s way out of her misery Antonine watched on in amusement and when the woman as expected ran off she walked over to her friend.

“This place is positively crawling with half wits, Bellatrix. Be glad you don’t have to court one of them.” She said, smirking although the thought of Goyle was enough to make her want to hurl. How was it possible for one man to be so boring and yet so vile at the same time?

Bellatrix had absolutely no care for marriage politics. The parties, the fuss over flowers. tea arrangements, it all caused her eyes to fall back into her sockets praying for the nonsense to end. However what she may care about even less, was other people’s marriage talk. If there was no substance when it was happening to her --what made someone believe that she would have anything to add in a less selfish setting? Still; her still arms remained at her sides, hands twitching with the need to potentially slap the younger witch in the cheek --for the headache she already had been granted. “I had no need to court anyone, I’m a Black. Unfortunately my sympathies are lost.”  She utters the words as if she had a human emotion in the first place, quick, a statement of fact.  “What brings you here today?”