Prologue

„Gin it is, thank you."

It was already late at night when I entered the small pub at the end of the busy road. The air was stuffy and the room was filled with hot breath and the medieval smell of alcohol and sweat, so nobody seemed to recognize my arrival. I made my way through the crowded area and took a seat in the blindest angle, where nobody had the chance to sneak a peek at my skinny silhouette, which was wrapped into an ebony coloured cape. Now, sitting in front of the smirking barkeeper I felt a little misplaced, but only because it had been a very buzzing day, while the noise and smog began to make me dizzy.

"You know what a really good drop is like, huh?"

"Indeed." He shook his head in amusement, his ice-blue eyes fixed on mine.

"There are a lot of strange guys around here, but you Sir, are one of the weirdest I got to see for a while. "

"I feel very honoured." I wasn't interested in a profounder conversation for, as I may have mentioned, I felt very weary.

"You know I'm running this business for a donkey's years by now, but you Mister, are one of the most ominous faces I've seen in what seems to be a decade." I began to wonder whether this establishment would be going to survive another decade, since its owner seemed to be a true grandmaster in penetrating his guests. I had been quite relieved by catching this seat, so I was invisible for most of the customers. But it seemed like this man and his overbearing babbling was increasingly arousing their interests. He passed me my well deserved glass of gin, while he was getting on with his announcement: "Only yesterday I thought I saw a man as tall as a house, I didn't believe my eyes. This is really curious, what do you say?"

"Yes, it is." I nodded. I was glad of him starting to talk of something different than my all too uncommon appearance.

"And there were a lot of other men, wearing great, dark huts, long cloaks, like yours, Sir, and I swear I heard them speak in what seemed to be a different language at times. But the oddest thing is..." he lowered his voice, "I swear I saw some of them disappear in a split second. It's a little scary, so I decided to tell no one about it." I grinned.

"Of course not", I rejoined to him, I too had my voice lowered to a whisper by now, "one could think it's been some kind of magic."

"Well, yes. That's exactly what I was about to say. Magic..." I turned away. A strong urge was dragging me outside, but I immediately decided against, as it was just too much fun listening to this excited muggle's reports. Muggle. Had I actually pronounce it? It had been more like a memory, flashing through my mind. I never really appreciated the strict separation of wizards and humans. I didn't like this term, either. Nevertheless it seemed like I just added it to my vocabulary. Well, I have to confess I'm a little lazy currently. But I'm generously allowing myself this laziness from time to time. I needed a break, only a few days. Lying in the sun... Stop! This is silly. The company would collapse if I weren't present to handle all these complex tasks. So I kept on doing this goddamned job, kept on fulfilling my purpose. No vacations, no beach, no hula, oh how much I loved hula dance.

"...can you believe that?"

"Certainly, Sir", I just said, without minding his widening eyes. "So you've seen them, too?"

"Well, this is a secret, all right?" He nodded hastily. "You have to make me this promise; you're never going to tell anyone about it, all right?"

He crossed his heart.

"Fine." I smiled eagerly. And so my story begins.

There have been only a few persons in world's history, which staved off death successfully for more than a few years, even if lots have tried desperately to delay their personal appointment with destiny. Some of them very wise, some of them impudently lucky, some of them evil and cold. People who bring trouble upon their fellow human beings and their own souls. But they do accept it for the price of immortality, which is a cursed one. But not uncommonly their hollow like dead wrappers, for they've already sold their souls to the devil. As I said before, lots have tried; very few have made it, temporary. In the end they belonged to death, a fact that no spell in the world could ever change.

Voldemort was one of them. Oh, excuse me, he who mustn't be named. But I don't think I have to explain myself for speaking his name, which he actually created for only one purpose- for making people pronounce it in terror. Believe me; I know many creatures of his kind. You don't like to doubt my judgment, right?

So, Voldemort was one of the more critical cases, from a purely negative point of view. He was the only one I never got to categorize in one of the classes mentioned above. He was driven by a forceful yearning for might, power above both worlds, the magic and the human. And once again there were lots of people, who had the same desire, but no one was ever closer to succeed in it than him. Which gets me to the next point; I have to tell you something about souls like his- they're weak. Weak and wounded, left children with flames of revenge in their unfathomable eyes. I saw these flames in his, too, ruby red and piercing.

But there was another protagonist catching my eye, a girl. If Voldemort was ice, she must have been the fire. They were infinitely different, but so familiar souls at the same time. Strangers to the world, highly talented and impressionable. I would like to tell you a story about a witch called Bellatrix. Black or Lestrange, it doesn't matter, for she never changed her heart, loving one person- her master. They had to meet eventually and if I may say so they were destined to get together, to gather a greater circle around them.

By the way, I like playing oracle, well I like playing destiny at all. Bellatrix was the embodiment of an well-educated, lofty girl when they first met, but he made her discover her darkest spiritual abysms, which was how he took over her all the time. And they spend a lot of time together. But let's start at the very beginning. I will be going to introduce you into a world of glamour and pain, of vengefulness and thirst of power, to cut the matter short; Welcome to the world of the noble and most ancient manor of Black.