(A/N): Hi everyone! I know it's been a while, but I needed a nice big break after Time-Turner and I was very busy getting ready for the holidays! Hope you didn't find the last chapter of Time-Turner a bit too OOC. PM me if you have any questions, or review any of my stories! Here's the first chapter of The Luckiest and I hope it's long enough to make up for the big break! Enjoy!

I always knew it was a bad idea. I had no clue why; I just felt it. Undoubtedly, I was concerned about attempting murder under the noses of a talented witch and wizard. Or perhaps I was worried about extra security precautions that had been taken, but whatever I was thinking, I never thought, never expected that the threat would come from the target itself. He was so small, so young, barely one year old. Yet it was he. That boy, that filthy, dirty child was the reason our lord, the greatest master, the most powerful man to ever rule, disappeared.

I had begged him not to go. I told him there would be other chances to kill him, that he should focus his attention on bigger threats, but he went after the boy anyways, and that Halloween night, he vanished forever.

I went looking for him, of course. Me, my husband, my brother-in-law, and a quiet spy who was the son of an important Ministry official, we all went looking for him. I was the most loyal, though; it was I who decided to search for him, I was the one who persuaded the others to join me, and I was the one who inflicted pain upon those who had gone against him. I was forced to believe that the scum were hiding him, for how could I grasp the fact he was truly gone? Leaving my enemies apparently dead upon the floor, I fled to search for him elsewhere. Unfortunately, they survived the Cruciatus Curse, and were somehow able to tell of their attackers before becoming completely insane from the experience. Two days later, the Aurors caught us. They shot at us from all sides, having surrounded us. I fell to my knees, dropped my wand, and put my hands up. What else could I do? I would never find my master if I died like my idiot husband. Showing loyalty for once, he did not stop fighting until they had no choice but to kill him. Idiot. He was never the brightest. I was constantly told I deserved better than him, even by his own brother.

Our brief trial was immediately after our capture. I openly admitted to having committed the crimes. I would never stoop as low as to deny being a follower. I was not such a coward and I would never deny my wonderful master, who had given us all so much. Even if I had tried, it wouldn't have worked. I had never tried to hide my loyalties, and I definitely made the front page countless times. I was known notoriously for being a cold-blooded murderer, and I prized that reputation.

My brother-in-law, much quieter after the death of his brother, also admitted simply that he had done all the crimes stated, though he was very subdued, and he did not laugh, nor did he hold his head up high with pride, like myself. The boy, though, who I had believed to have much potential, completely denied us. He cried to his mother and father, saying he had never done such things, he had never murdered or tortured or even stole anything, but the boy's father was probably more cold-blooded than ourselves and he denied that he had ever even had a son. Despite the grim situation, I could not help smiling at the news that he would suffer the same fate as us. If Rabastan and I were to go to Azkaban, at least Barty Crouch Junior would rot in prison as well.

As we were dragged away by the dementors, I felt a dull hopelessness spread through me that had nothing to do with the foul creatures. Nobody had ever escaped from Azkaban and lived to tell the tale. How was I supposed to find my master if I was shut away in a prison cell? I can't say that I didn't attempt to, either. I was unable to jump out the small, unbarred window, for they had taken away my wand, and there was not the slightest chance that I would survive the great drop without magic. The walls were smooth and there was no way to scale them. As I starved, sometimes intentionally, I tried to squeeze between the bars, but even my slight figure was unable to slide through the unyielding metal poles. Even when I felt there was no possible way to escape Azkaban, I would try to picture his whereabouts in my mind, but all I got were fuzzy images that became more blurred as time went on, or I became tired. My most common method, though, was screaming. I would call for him, hollering, sobbing uncontrollably, pleading to be free and serve my lord, screeching for forgiveness for anything I had ever done wrong to him. I would even yell as I slept uneasily, up until my voice became hoarse. Sometimes, when I was even more desperate, I would continue until I could only whisper, and even up until I could make no sound at all, and it would be many days before my voice returned to me, and my tears would stream only silently down my face. As the years passed, all hope I had left was drained from me. He would never set me free. I was forced to admit my beloved master, the Dark Lord, was dead. He would never come for me; he would never free his most loyal servant. The only woman in his ranks, the female warrior, would be stuck in this prison cell forevermore, and her precious master was gone. All this I admitted to myself, yet my screams continued to echo far into the night, and all around the dark prism, in dungeons and cells, the criminals of the wizarding world would mutter to each other, "Poor, poor Bellatrix," as my desperate voice traveled miles wide.

(A/N): So?... How did you like it? Do you want me to continue? Please review and story alert if you like it! I'm already starting the second chapter!