Right Hand Woman
Magpies
Seeker
A/N: This is the Seeker from Montrose Magpies writing for QLFC Round 9.
Prompt: Golden Snitch: Write about a witch or wizard displaying undying loyalty to someone.
Word count: 991
For many craving the prestige and rewards that came with being the Dark Lord's metaphorical right hand, it was difficult to see exactly why Bellatrix Lestrange was the chosen one. She was intelligent enough, but they didn't think she was any better than the rest of them. In fact, it bred a lot of jealousy — an emotion the Dark Lord had previously punished his Death Eaters for expressing.
The Dark Lord did not simply punish those who whined about not being high up in rank or in favour with him. And, contrary to popular belief, he did not punish everyone and anyone who ticked him off — no, he was not that unhinged. His punishments were saved for those who were weak of mind and of spirit. Those who envied his choice of Bellatrix as his most trusted displayed a lack of trust in his decisions, and that could only ensue in in-fighting. That was not something he could afford. It would breed disunity and division, undermining everything they were working towards.
Bella had, on multiple occasions, displayed her undying loyalty to him. She had killed, and had even been willing to be killed, for his cause — and more importantly, him. The others all said that they would lay their lives on the line for him, but there was always a sense of hesitation, as if they were saying it because they should rather than because they wanted to. She, however, said it without the slightest hint of hesitation.
There was one such occasion that had cinched his belief in the witch, and it was the very reason she was his most trusted servant to date.
In July of 1975, there had been multiple raids on the offices of those suspected to be involved with the Dark Lord or even those who simply voiced vaguely similar opinions. They were dangerous times for those who supported him, and many were put on trial with the harshest of judges to set an example to all those who were even thinking of entertaining the Dark Lord's message.
Bellatrix Lestrange was already a part of the Death Eater ranks. She was marked, and she had been on multiple 'trips' with the Dark Lord himself, punishing Muggles and dissenters from their cause. She had been young, but she had showed a ruthlessness combined with a tasteful thirst for blood that surprised and impressed him. The Dark Lord had moulded it into what would result in her insatiable appetite for it.
It was on one of these trips that the Dark Lord got to witness, firsthand, the cunning the young woman possessed.
Barely twenty-four years old, despite her years of servitude to the Dark Lord, Lestrange had never cast an Unforgivable. It was something that took skill; controlling rampant emotions was never an easy task. But Bellatrix had been working hard on her iron resolve. She remained unmoved by anyone who stood in the way of her serving her Dark Lord, by their pleas and screams for mercy. A trait which set her up nicely to cast them.
It was mere days after her birthday that she accompanied the Dark Lord on one of those trips that would ultimately cement his trust in her.
It was a visit to a Muggle family's home. Simply put, the aim of the trips was to breed fear and unease within the wizarding community; fearful subjects were subordinate subjects in his eyes. Bella was the one to knock, and the rhythmic tap of a walking stick accompanying a shuffling set of footsteps took exactly seven seconds to reach the door and begin turning the handle. From there, Bellatrix looked up at him, searching for his permission to make her next move. His expression was unchanged — a yes. He only ever intervened when he disapproved.
A wicked sort of grin stretched across her face, the image of a predator sighting its prey, and she shoved the door open. The brute force caused the old man on the other side to fall backwards, his arms and legs sprawled out like a spider. His walking stick clattered to the ground far enough out of reach of his hand that it might as well have been miles away.
Bellatrix cackled and removed her wand from its holster. Wordlessly, the Dark Lord closed the door behind them; he could taste the fear oozing from Muggle before them, and he could see the way the click of the door caused the hairs on the back of Bella's neck to raise. She was enjoying herself.
"Wingardium leviosa," whispered Bellatrix, her eyes, and wand, trained on the stick as it began to float upwards.
He couldn't contain his smile when she let it drop.
The cracks and thuds and screams that ensued were enough for multiple complaints to be made to the police, no one daring to enter the residential home themselves. The wizarding authorities had been closely monitoring calls to the Muggle emergency services for any hint of magical interference, and the spike of activity in the area raised enough alarm to have an Auror immediately dispatched. Four more were meant to follow him, but they would find the Floo networks disabled and an anti-Apparation ward in place.
By the time they finally broke through, the intruders were gone, and the body of the Muggle man was the only thing left to greet them. They found the body of Orpheus Black only minutes later, and two of the four Aurors fell to the ground in sorrow at the state of their colleague's body.
This was the event that ultimately made the Dark Lord trust that she was undyingly loyal. He had watched as she pretended to be remorseful in order to lower her cousin's guard and then, as his back was turned, released her very first Unforgivable with an easy smile, not even needing to look at him for encouragement — and all hell followed.