Harry walked through the ruins of the castle slowly, looking over the place he had thought of as his home. It was a little startling, actually, that something that seemed so incredibly invincible could turn to ashes in just a single night- just one bloody battle. But now it was over- Voldemort was dead. They had won. A small smile came over Harry's face. Victory didn't feel exactly like he had predicted it would, but the important thing was no one else would be hurt at the hands of the Dark Lord who had terrorized the Wizarding World for far too long. The Dark Lord had fallen.

As he walked, his shoe hit a stone, giving off a soft ring upon impact. Harry looked down; that had not been the right noise. A stone would have not made such a hollow sound. Bending down, Harry brushed the rumble aside to reveal a glass vial, cold to the touch, very much resembling the one he had received from Snape mere hours ago. Cautiously, he picked it up and examined it, cleaning the dusty sides with his sleeve. He furrowed his brow, walking towards a group of students who had been talking quietly amongst themselves. They grew silent as they noticed Harry, nodding their respects as he came to a halt in front of them.

"Hey- Ginny," Harry identified his girlfriend in the small crowd.

"Do you need anything, Harry?" The students parted to allow the redhead to meet him.

"Actually, yes... this vial. Do you know whose it is?"

He held it out so she could see it. Not having to examine it very closely, she shook her head. "Sorry, no. But if you found it over there..." she indicated to the place he had just been, "it could be Mum's. I'd ask her, and Luna, perhaps... maybe Hermione...?" she rattled off suggestions.

Harry gave a curt nod. Ginny hesitated before making her way back to the others, rejoining the conversation. This is wrong. These are personal... private, I'm not supposed to know whatever's in here... But at the same time, he might be able to figure out whose these belonged to and return them if he used the pensieve. He would only go in long enough to figure out whose memories these were. Then he would leave immediately, he decided.

Just minutes later, Harry was up in Dumbledore's office, pouring the memories of this unknown person into the former headmaster's pensieve. Go in, then get out, he repeated his strategy over and over again in his mind. Taking a quick breath and readying himself, he leaned forward until his face touched the liquid and he was hurdled away from the office.

He opened his eyes, finding himself in a meadow. There were thick, dark gray clouds blanketing the sky; it looked as if it would start pouring down rain at any moment. Harry's head turned at the sound of a young girl's shriek of laughter. Then the voice's owner came into his sight. She was barreling full speed over a hill beyond which the trees grew thick and became a forest, her black hair billowing behind her and her gray eyes alight with excitement. On her heels was a little boy who looked to be around the same age as the girl- around eight or so, Harry would have guessed- with tidy dark hair and eyes the same shade as her.

"See, Seer?" the girl said once her laughter had subsided. "I told you I was faster than you!"

The boy, looking exhausted, came to a halt, patting. His shoulders sagged as he watched her despairingly. "We need to go back!" he called out. "I think its going to rain!"

"Gotta catch me first!" she shouted over her shoulder.

He groaned. "Aunt Druella's gonna kill me if you get that dress wet!" he yelled. At this, the girl gave an exaggerated sigh and turned around.

"You're no fun, Sirius." Sirius. There were only so many Sirius's out there, Harry figured, and this particular boy looked similar enough... and that name. Druella. As Harry put that name with Sirius's, he realized he remembered seeing it on the Black Family Tree back at 12 Grimmauld Place. Aunt Druella. Of course, that had to be it. But Sirius was dead. Sirius had been dead for two years. So then these couldn't be his memories. This left the girl. Whoever that girl was, these memories must belong to her.

"I am too!" the young Sirius protested. "She scares me to death is all," he muttered.

The girl laughed. "Race you there!" she said, darting past Harry and Sirius both, back over the hill in the direction the two children had come. Sirius rolled his eyes, but followed, grinning playfully as he called after her,

"You're nothing but trouble, Bellatrix!"

Bellatrix. Harry's head nearly snapped off. Bellatrix. Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch with prodigeous skill and no conscience. Bellatrix Lestrange, the death eater who had mercilessly tortured Neville Longbottom's parents into insanity. Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had killed her own cousin. Bellatrix Lestrange, the criminal responsible for the death of Dobby, the free elf. Bellatrix Lestrange, the warrior who had died with Sirius's laughter on her face. Harry was viewing the memories of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was, besides Voldemort, his most hated enemy. And he no longer had any intentions to stop.


This story won't be written in Harry's point of view for very long. Within the next chapter or two, I plan on shifting it out of the pensieve and into Bellatrix's viewpoint. Also, for the purposes of this fanfic, Bella and Lucius are in the same year as the Marauders. Hope you enjoyed, please leave me a comment below! (: