A/N: Written for QLFC Finals Round 2

When her left forearm began prickling, Bellatrix knew one of two things. Either Azkaban had finally done her in or her Lord was finally back. (In all honesty, she preferred the latter.) Lately, she had been prone to moments of pure madness, the days of isolation with only the occasional Dementor for company (mind you, they were not exactly known for being 'fun' creatures). Whether it was her bloodcurdling shrieks of insanity that filled the air when the loneliness began to get to her or her hour long conversations with herself, few outsiders would consider her even close to sane.

Despite the occasional outbursts, the raven-haired witch was still sharp as ever. Prior to her lockup, there was no doubt Bellatrix was a brilliant witch. After all, it was what caught the attention of the Dark Lord to begin with. However, while Azkaban had stolen many minds and souls, Bellatrix had lost neither, she was merely physically bound. There was no way to steal her mind away from her. On the other hand, most were sure she didn't have a soul to begin with.

To the unknowing eye, Azkaban had also done little to tamper her physical appearance. Despite the minor loss of weight, the dark haired woman had lost none of her beauty. Even with the grey that now streaked through her pitch black hair and the constant crazed look she sported, she could easily have her way with any man of her choosing.

Quickly, the faint prickling became a strong burn, and she was sure this was the moment she had spent 10 years in Azkaban for. Her blood red lips couldn't help but curl into a cruel smile as she peered through the bars that held her captive. The sky seemed ominously dark, a further sign what she felt was real.

A maniacal laugh escaped her lips, knowing that she would soon be free of the cage that had held her for so long. She heard a crackling noise in the far distance. After spending so long in a prison without any lighting, her other senses had become more acute. As she heard the crackling approach her, her gaze hardened like ice and fire, cold and hard, yet determined and fierce.

She pressesd her heavily lidded eyes shut as the walls around her came crumbling down. Taking a long deep breath before opening her eyes to see her much earned freedom, she couldn't help but scoff. They called Azkaban unbreakable, but now her Lord was back and she was free, no longer incarcerated inside walls of stone.

As she opened her eyes slowly, to her surprise, she found a wand: 12 ¾ inches, walnut, with a dragon heartstring core lying on some crumbled stone. (She wasn't a wand expert, but any witch could recognize their own wand when they saw it.) She couldn't help but lick her lips in excitement as she touched the wand. It had been far too long since she had touched it. Suppressing the urge to let out another laugh, she whipped the wand around a bit, warming it up. Without any sign or warning, she whipped the wand up into the air and screamed, "Morsmordre!"

With that, the Dark Mark and all its glory exploded throughout the sky. The green skull in the sky glittered as a long snake slithered out of its mouth. It seemed appropriate that the first spell she would complete after her release would be one glorifying the Dark Lord. She could just imagine the shrieks of fear that would fill the air if some lowly witches and wizards saw it. She almost hoped some stuffy and irritating ministry official happened to see it right now.

Bellatrix clearly remembered casting the Dark Mark for the first time. It was not too long after she had proven herself worthy enough for the tattoo, she was strolling down the busy streets of Diagon Alley and some extremely arrogant and entitled mudblood shopkeeper had attempted to insult her Lord. She had become quite adept with the Cruciatus curse and was more than happy to offer the mudblood a piece of her mind. After her little "argument of beliefs" she had cast the symbol above the shop. Needless to say the shop has continued to remain empty.

It was pitch black outside and Bellatrix felt a frigid breeze through the air as frantic footsteps began scurrying around. She presumed the pitter-patter of steps to belong her fellow Death Eaters who had been freed as well. As she calmly walked past a few other prisoners still stuck in their cells, a surge of energy and adrenaline flowed through her veins. As a devilishly cunning opponent, now filled with adrenaline, anyone who dared oppose her would most certainly regret it. (In simple terms, no matter who she faced it would not end well for the opposing side.)

Stepping one foot in front of the other, armed with her wand and fierce passion, Bellatrix was seemly unstoppable in the moment. Even the few Dementors that she passed by parted in her presence. She figured the Dementors were now aligned to her Lord as well, but that didn't prevent them from still trembling in her presence. Her thoughts were now back to the strong burn that filled her left arm. She could Apparate now, but she felt the burning need to let the world know she had escaped. (Most read it as narcissism, but she simply called it pride.) Unbidden, unannounced, slowly crawling into the world's conscious, she knew it was the best way to strike fear.

Another chilly breeze flew by, stinging frugally covered arms. With the flick of her wand, she conjured a long, thick black robe and slipped into it. She soon pressed two fingers to the mark on her arm and pressed her dark eyes closed and Apparated to the location of her calling. Her lips curled into another evil smile upon the sight.

"Hello, my Lord," she said, almost breathlessly, "It seems we have both returned."

A/N:

QLFC Info:

Title: The Returned

Team/Position: Kestrals/ Keeper

Word Count: 1,004

Prompts: Phrase: 'the sky seemed ominously dark'