Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously. Otherwise Remus, Tonks, and Bella never would have died.
Author's Note: So, this spawned from my theory that Bellatrix isn't as evil as she is made out to be. Yeah, I have a strange soft spot for the insane lady—big surprise, eh? No? Didn't think so.
Oh yes, I'm also pretending that Andromeda is the oldest. Sorry if that irritates anyone. Characters are out of character, but oh well - it obviously isn't canon. Unbeta'd, because I'm impatient as hell. Feel free to point out any errors you find.
Thanks for the click, hope you like it.
Dedicated to Ishbu Girl, my fellow Bellatrix sympathizer.
-Liz
Cause and Effect
By Elizabeth Odessky
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. A rule of physics, yes, but it is not a rule of the heart. Hate is answered by equal loathing. Violence is met with hostility; abuse met with cruelty. Some would call it a vicious circle, but it is what forges and molds lives. It can either build a life up, or utterly decimate it. Bellatrix Lestrange, born Bellatrix Black, knows the cycle better than most.
She wasn't always like this. She hadn't always been confident and strong. She hadn't always thought herself superior. She hadn't always lusted for blood and violence. She hadn't always hated. She hadn't always been eccentric.
But time passes, and fate had given her a bad hand; years of abuse, betrayal, and loneliness had hardened her heart into the impenetrable steel it was formed of now.
It was all a simple case of cause and effect.
i.
"'Dromeda?"
Six year old Bellatrix Black peeked around her sister's door and into the dark room beyond, not daring to go any further without Andromeda's permission. She heard a sigh from within and the ruffling of a feather duvet, then: "What is it Bella?"
"I . . . I'm sca-" she began to say, but another boom of thunder made her jump in fear as lightning struck somewhere in the distance, outside the window; its abrupt flash of light causing even her older sister's silhouette to twist into a sinister form. Bella bit her lip, trying not to cry. 'Dromeda would never let her live it down if she caught her crying over a thunderstorm.
"Oh, just spit it out Bella, before I send you back to your own room," Andromeda huffed, shifting to sit cross-legged on her bed, staring at her younger sister.
Bella turned her gaze to the floor, contemplating whether humiliation was worth not having to be alone. After a moment of staring at the ancient floorboards, fighting back tears each time thunder struck, she looked up abruptly—only to find Andromeda a foot away, staring at her knowingly.
"You're scared. Of the thunder, aren't you?" she asked, neither angrily or mockingly, as Bella had expected, but in a caring voice. Bella nodded, lowering her gaze to the floor again, ashamed despite her sister's apparent kindness.
"Oh, bugger. Don't cry! Mum'll hear," Andromeda pleaded. It didn't staunch Bella's tears. Casting a wary look at a closed door down the hall, Andromeda grabbed Bellatrix by the wrist and tugged her into the room, closing the door quickly behind her.
"Look, Bella. Y'know what Sirius told me?" That got her attention—Bellatrix idolized her cousin. "He said that thunder is just Merlin de-gnoming his garden. You see, the gnomes are so humongous," Andromeda waved her hands in a rough outline of one's size for emphasis, "that when he tosses them, they make a big, booming sound when they hit the clouds. That's what thunder is!"
Bellatrix seemed to like that idea, for she grinned up at her sister and wiped the tip of her nose with the cuff of her nightgown.
"Thanks, 'Dromeda."
"No problem, sis. You gonna be okay in your room, or do you want to stay in here?"
"Mum will be angry if I stay here."
"Well, let her be angry. Wanna stay?"
Bella nodded before lunging forward to hug her sister. Andromeda squirmed indignantly, as a big sister was 'required' to do, but kept a smile on her face.
ii.
"Missus, Master told Kreacher not to tell anyones. Kreacher must do as brave Master Regulus says."
Bellatrix ducked around the corner just in time to avoid the crystal ashtray that her mother had hurled at Kreacher, their family house-elf, which had bounced off of the elf's forehead before flying into the hall where the twelve year old was hiding.
"Kreacher! Tell me where Regulus is now, of I swear I shall behead you early! That is an order!" Mistress Black's shrill voice echoed down the empty hallway. The tone in which her mother was yelling frightened her, for it was the tone that she so often employed when having a row with Bellatrix or Andromeda. She never used that pitch with Narcissa—their younger sister had always been their mother's favorite.
There was another smash and low voiced yelping, and Bellatrix couldn't contain her curiosity any longer—she peeked around the corner again. What she saw almost made her sick; her mother had seized their iron poker from in front of the fireplace and was using it as a club as Kreacher curled himself into a defensive ball on the floor. Her mother struck again and again—if Bella didn't do something, she'd kill the poor thing. Making up her mind, Bellatrix dashed from her hiding place.
"Mum, stop! You're hurting him!" Bellatrix placed herself between the house-elf and her mother as she stopped abruptly, mid swing, staring at her with an almost humorous mixture of bewilderment and rage upon her face. After a moment to gain her composure, Druella grabbed her daughter roughly by the arm in an attempt to clear the girl out of her path. Bellatrix stubbornly stayed put.
"You ungrateful little bitch! Get out of the way, now!" she screamed, leaning in so close that Bella could smell the alcohol on her breath.
"Mum, you're drunk—you're not thinking straight. You're going to kill him! Just leave him the bloody hell alone!" she retorted, glancing sideways to see that Andromeda had heard the commotion and come to investigate. Her sister had fear and concern written all over her features—a small scar ran from her hairline down to her right eyebrow as testament to one of the many times she had invoked her mother's anger.
"Why you unappreciative, ugly little brat!" Druella shrieked, swinging the poker like a bat into the side of Bellatrix's head, knocking her to the ground. Her vision started to fade immediately as she brought her hand up to her left cheek, pulling it back to see it sticky with blood.
"BELLA!"
"Bella!"
Twin shrieks sounded from the hallway as both of her sisters rushed in—Andromeda, being the oldest and biggest yanking the poker out of her mother's slackening grip; and Narcissa, rushing to her older sister's side, trying to staunch the blood with the hem of her skirt.
Kreacher simply stared at his Mistress Bellatrix from the sidelines, face slackened in shock. Never before had a witch or wizard in this household prevented his abuse in any way. He would never forget the act of kindness, especially as he gazed upon the jagged scar that adorned his Master's left cheek for decades to come.
iii.
"Come on, just tell us where you keep your coin purse and we'll let ya go."
Bellatrix sighed. Goyle, what an idiot—cornering first years in the corridor in hopes of snatching their Hogsmeade money. She stepped around the corner not only to find Goyle, but the ham-fisted Crabbe, who lacked even more brains than his companion. Quite an achievement, she though—he had managed to purge and block five years of education from entering his thick skull.
Shaking her head, Bellatrix straightened the prefect badge on her robes and pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointing it squarely at Goyle's back. Neither of the other two sixth years noticed; they were still too busy roughing up a boy that she now recognized as Slytherin Adrian Pent. Rolling her eyes, she cleared her throat loudly.
At first, Crabbe and Goyle looked around in confusion, dumbfounded as to where the noise had come from. Eventually, Goyle spotted her and in a very unintelligent, giant-like gesture, whacked Crabbe on the arm to get his attention. They both glared at Bellatrix, obviously irritated that she had spoiled their 'fun'.
"I'd get out of here if I were you, Adrian," she waited until the boy dashed off to fix her gaze on the idiotic duo once again.
"Now, would you like to explain why you were tormenting first years for their meager pocket money?"
They looked from one to the other, as if trying to remember what exactly they had been doing just a minute previously. Pathetic, really.
"No? Already left your tiny brains?" apparently, that didn't register, for a moment later, Goyle spoke up in his awful baritone of a voice.
"Oi! Why'd you do that for? Pent's only a mudblood in Slytherin colours. We're just takin' what's rightfully ours," he said, somewhat impressing Bellatrix with the fact that he could string so many words together and still remain semi-coherent. It was more than Crabbe could do, for he just grunted in agreement.
"Stealing from a mudblood is just lowering yourself to their level, you dolts," she sneered. Years of abuse and neglect at home had begun to turn her into the very thing her parents wanted—she simply couldn't take anymore.
"Find someone more worthy of your time," she spat, glaring at them until they realized their dismissal and lumbered off.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes again as she tucked her wand back into her robes, beginning to make the trek back to the Slytherin common room.
She couldn't help but think to herself whether or no she should have interfered—Pent was only a Mudblood, after all.
iv.
It was raining again, but this time Bellatrix wasn't listening to the thunder. It hadn't bothered her since she was seven, when Andromeda had told her that ridiculous tale of Sirius' about Merlin and his garden gnomes. That was a decade ago—things were very different now. She and Andromeda had never been further apart, and it hurt. As her devotion to her pure blooded family and ideals had grown, Andromeda's had withered. Her sister had even started dating a muggleborn Ravenclaw in her seventh year, one Theodore Tonks.
That cursed boy was the cause of the argument now taking place in the next room—the git had had the nerve to ask a Black, of all people, to marry him. Bellatrix hadn't tried to intervene when her parents had all but dragged Andromeda into the adjoining room; she traced the rough scar on her cheek with the fingers of one hand, reminding herself what happened when she interfered and her mother was part of the equation.
"Incendio!"
She winced, knowing exactly what had transpired—it was the same as when Sirius had run away two years ago; the arguing, the cursing, the disowning, and finally the name of someone else she cared about being blasted off the family tree.
Bellatrix jerked her head up as Andromeda came storming out of the next room and into Bella's lurking area in the kitchen. She looked horrible; tears streaked her face, her long hair had been matted, and there was the fading imprint of a hand on her wrist—no doubt where their father had grabbed her.
They simply stared at each other for a minute before Bellatrix characteristically broke the silence.
"So, you're going to marry the mudblood?" she asked mockingly.
Andromeda didn't answer—she just continued to stare at her fuming sister, willing herself to be anywhere else in the world.
"I asked you a question, 'Dromeda! You're just going to up and leave!?" Bella yelled, fighting back her own tears.
"I-I'm sorry. I love him, Bella. Why don't you understand?" Andromeda all but pleaded, taking a step forwards in an attempt to close the gap between them. Bellatrix simply took a step back and Andromeda came up short.
"I hate you."
"W-what?'
"I said I hate you!"
Her sister seemed to take her words like a physical blow, staggering back until she bumped into the wall, never breaking eye contact with Bellatrix.
"Why?"
'What do you mean 'why'?" Bellatrix took a step forward, subconsciously raising her hand to strike her sister. She stopped dead in her tracks when Andromeda flinched, closing her eyes as if it would stop the coming blow. Her movement stopped the physical assault, but not the verbal.
"Why, you ask? Because you're just up and leaving. No warning, no nothing. I should be asking YOU why! How can you choose a filthy mudblood freak like him over your family?" Andromeda tried to protest, but Bellatrix continued her rant, cutting her off. "We're family, 'Dromeda! You can't leave! We need you! Cissy needs you! I nee-" Bellatrix stopped short, realizing what she had said.
It finally hit Andromeda—Bella wasn't angry because of who she was leaving for, but because she was leaving her. Her big sister, the only person who had stood up for her and cared for her, was leaving her. Betraying her. It was like a blow to the gut.
"I'm so sorry, Bella. I love you, I really do—you'll always be my sister," Andromeda supplicated, silently praying that Bellatrix would calm down. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
"You just love Ted more. I get it. I'm obsolete now, I've been replaced," she laughed bitterly. "To think that freak could replace me."
"Bella, why don't you und-" she tried to reply, but was cut off by a tearful Bellatrix.
"JUST BLOODY GO!"
Andromeda paused for a moment, then nodded and moved forwards to give Bella one last embrace—her sister stood stock still, as if she were being forced to endure torture if she twitched a muscle. She released her, without a word she smiled halfheartedly at Bellatrix, hoping that she would return the gesture. She didn't.
"Well, I guess this is goodbye."
"Just leave, Andromeda. I don't want to hear it."
Andromeda nodded yet again. She paused to pull her cloak off its peg next to the door, wrapping it around her in an attempt to keep out the rain. Bellatrix watched her emotionlessly until Andromeda had vanished into the dark and Disapparated, leaving her alone.
Letting a sob break though, Bellatrix rushed outside, glancing around frantically for her sister as lightning struck nearby.
"I HATE YOU!" she hurled into the night.
v.
If anyone ever asked her what hell was like, Bellatrix would be sure to tell them to visit Azkaban. Never-ending darkness dulled her senses and screams of pain reverberating from god knows where echoed within her skull. She clung tightly to her last remnants of sanity, for it was the only thing keeping her focused and alive.
The Dementors were like Death himself, gliding to and fro, inflicting perpetual horror on their victims. She hated it when they would drift past her cell—in reality, there were only in her vicinity for mere moments, but is seemed much longer in her mind.
It was raining, when they floated past.
Always raining.
It was in these Dementor-induced nightmares that she was transformed back into the seven year old who snuck into her sister's room for comfort—no longer was she the cruel and fearless first lieutenant of the Dark Lord. Reduced to a fearful child, she called out for her older sister in terror, but Andromeda never answered.
One moment she would be sitting in her cell, the next she would be twelve again, braving the wrath of her mother to protect a lowly house-elf. The confrontation had left her with a scar and memories she would never forget, the continued wrath of her parents would push her down her current path.
She was a sixteen year old again, telling off Crabbe and Goyle for tormenting a muggleborn first year, and then questioning herself for letting the boy go. It was then when she began to unravel.
Then there was the breaking point: seventeen for a second time, tearfully watching the only person who had ever loved or stood up for her walk out the door without a backwards glance, never to return. "I HATE YOU," she had yelled into the bleary night. How she wished things would have gone differently.
Then she was in her forties again, alone in a dank prison cell in the closest thing she could define as hell on earth—alone, abandoned, betrayed, replaced, and abused.
It was then that her last bits of sanity, the last part of her humanity left her. It was in cell 1284 that the naive girl Bellatrix Black died.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Bellatrix Lestrange dodged spell after spell, her smile of amusement at Molly Weasley's initial attack faded and a look of determination too over. She threw every insult and spell she knew it the woman, from The Cruciatus Curse to insulting her ancestors—nothing could touch the woman.
It was then that she realized it was over, the long thought dead Bellatrix Black rearing her head once more.
"End it now," her twelve year old self said. "If you can take a fire poker in the face, then you can surely take one painless curse."
Hurling one last hex at Weasley for her to dodge, she threw her head back and laughed. It was a laugh made equally of madness, hatred, despair, and solitude. Laughter at what had become of her life—laughter at what she had become.
Then a flash of green, and it all went black.
FIN
Not too bad, was it? Please leave me a review and let me know—cookies shall be rewarded. No flames please - I already know it was out of character. :D
Eh, not too happy with the ending – but I never really am . . .
-Liz