Part I
You desire to know how I have come to be in this situation. You look at me in a way which implies that you do not believe I did not plan to become what I have. Let me clarify something for you: you know nothing about me. Your suspicions are meaningless; I have no care for your opinion. But I will tell you the truth of the story. I will not hide anything, for, in my eyes, I have nothing to be ashamed of.
You know a little of my background, or you think you do. I am the youngest of three sisters. In a society where ancient families and pure blood are prized beyond many things, my family were privileged. Rich and proud, my sisters and I enjoyed a degree of celebrity that many were jealous of. We had the best of everything; we were the best examples of the grandness of pure blood and good breeding. We were raised to have pride in our descent, in our appearance, and in our superiority to lesser wizards and witches. Our father was an imposing, powerful man with influence in many places. Fiercely defensive of the importance of purity of wizarding blood, he impressed his views on mixing with certain types of wizard on us from a young age;
"Blood-traitors and Mudbloods are not worth your attention. You are a Black. You are the best. Uphold your family's honour."
Our father ruled his household with an iron fist, and we learned to be quite and respectful. My sisters had a harder time of keeping their actions in check and their voices restrained as we grew up, but I did not. I preferred to keep my thoughts to myself and did not care for childish games. My sisters would control themselves in the end; we knew how angry our father could get.
Our Mother was an elegant woman who had been a stunningly beautiful socialite in her youth and who still retained her looks in middle age. She was proud and conceited, and cared only for her own appearance and that of we three sisters. She came from a family of pure-blood and little wealth, and had been lucky in her marriage to our father: she was lucky in that the union brought her as many jewels and robes as she could desire, and a pure-blood wizard with whom she could preserve the blood-line. However, I imagine that having my father as a husband must have been difficult at times. It was a price that witches like my mother had to pay.
We grew from little princesses in grand young women. Our reputation was golden; we were blessed with fine blood, inherited wealth, elegance and good looks. However, we were little more than sellable commodities to our parents, who were obsessed with maintaining the bloodline and the upkeep of the proud family name of Black. Their determination that we would marry well, and marry young, was the catalyst for our downfall. Of course, all our lives we had been made aware of the idea that we would one day be the heads of other houses once we were married, but we imagined it in the way in which a child imagines a handsome prince will one day carry her off on horseback. The reality was somewhat different. Our marriages, not to put too fine a point on it, were to be arranged. There may not have been many pure blood families left, but those that remained were willing to make deals and allowances for the chance to have their sons paired off with one of the Black sisters. And our parents weren't willing to let us go off with just anyone we saw fit; after all, what did we know of the world? We had lived relatively sheltered lives, when we were not at school we were chaperoned most of the time, and our family only socialised with others deemed worthy enough. We sisters, although well known, lived tightly controlled lives. At school we made friends through the fact that we were status symbols in some circles. In reality, we only had each other, and so we were our own confidants and companions most of the time.
When the talk of our potential marriages became more frequent and pressing in our house, we three sisters became increasingly alarmed; it seemed that this was no longer a hypothetical situation, an amusing topic of conversation for our parents. It was a reality, a fast approaching reality from which there seemed to be no escape. Andromeda, my middle sister, had left school the summer previously, and Narcissa the year before that, and so our family thought it was high time they took up their destinies in life to marry and begin the next generation of noble, pure-blooded wizard children. I was still in school, and so my fate was yet to be determined, but as I saw the arrangements being made for my sisters I knew it could not be long.
Narcissa was the first to go, being the oldest and, by popular opinion, the most beautiful. Her ice-blond hair almost matched the white-pale skin we all had the good fortune of having. She was tall and elegant, and like myself and Andromeda, she had a regal sort of stature about her. She had a gentle, sweet nature and despite being the eldest she had an air of innocence which many found indearing. She was considered a fine prize for any son of a good family. My father had arranged that his eldest daughter was to marry the incredibly wealthy Lucious Malfoy, who had apparently had his eye on Narcissa since she had been introduced into society a few years previously. Malfoy was some years older than my sister, and by all accounts he was a proud, arrogant man, who held the sanctity of pure blood in almost as high regard as he did the sanctity of gold. We were afraid for my sister; Narcissa may have beautiful and elegant, she may have been able to command the attention of a room when she entered it, but she was mild and timid by nature at that time. She was as afraid of her of her own future and husband–to-be as we were, but she never dared question our parents, or voice her own concerns. As the day of the wedding approached she had only met her future husband twice, both times in engineered social situations and I do not believe they ever spoke alone during these times. They were virtual strangers on the day they made their vows to one another. I remember standing beside Andromeda as we acted as bridesmaids to Narcissa, both of us silent and appalled at the sight of our beloved older sister devoting her life to the man who stood smirking beside her, his cruel eyes betraying his glee at the acquisition of such a trophy bride.
While our parents were jubilant, I believe our witnessing the marriage of Narcissa and Lucious was the beginning of a new phase for Andromeda and I, and we each knew we could not allow our fates to be the same. We waved goodbye to Narcissa that day, not realising that it would be the last time we would see her as the sister we knew and loved. In Andromeda's case, it was the last time she would see her ever again.
The wedding celebrations had hardly died down when my father announced to us that he had found a suitable husband for Andromeda, and that she was to meet him in three days time at a party my parents were throwing. That night Andromeda confessed to me that she had no intention of being there to meet the suitor; she was in love, had secretly been in correspondence with a man ever since leaving school the year before. A further shock was to come; the man was Muggle–born.
I pleaded with Andromeda to reconsider when she told me she was already making arrangements to flee with her lover, whose name was Ted Tonks, fearing that if our father ever found out he would consider allowing such a blood traitor to live a far worse crime than murdering his own daughter. But Andromeda was adamant. She would not allow her life to be controlled any longer; her spirit was not so docile as our elder sisters. It should not have been surprising, given Andromeda's nature. She was outspoken and fiery in temper, although until now she had been required to keep this side of her character hidden from our family. But after years of living under our fathers rule she had finally committed the ultimate act of rebellion; she knew as well as I did that to associate in such a way with a muggle born was, by my fathers standards, the ultimate insult to the family name and the purity of our blood. She tried to persuade me to come with her, claiming that Tonks could protect both of us from the wrath of our family. I declined; I longed to run, I couldn't bear the thought of being left alone. But I knew that if I did go with Andromeda I wouldn't be able to return to Hogwarts, something that I considered to be impossibility at the time.
On the night that Andromeda planned to flee, our entire household was caught up in the preparations for the great party that had been arranged in the lucky young mans honour. All were oblivious to my sister and I as we hastily packed a few of her possessions. She took hardly anything in the hope that her absence would go unnoticed until as late as possible the next day, although we loaded her neck and fingers with as much of the fine jewellery she had as they could take. Our family was rich, but we had no real money of our own which we could easily access, as it was assumed that one day our husbands would take care of such things. Jewels were the only currency we had.
Even after hours of trying to talk her out of her flight, Andromeda had not wavered, and so I had agreed to aid her in running away that night. My fear of being alone could not outstrip my fear of the consequences for her if she were caught. We sat together in her bed chamber, willing the hours to pass. I brushed and pleated her long auburn hair, something I had been doing for her since we were little girls. Later that night, when the last servant had finally gone to bed, we sneaked to the attic where Andromeda knew she could access the roof through the window. For a few horrendous moments we crouched shivering on the leads, thoughts racing, no sign of this Tonks who had promised to rescue my sister. But he arrived shortly after on a broom, and as Andromeda climbed on behind him she asked me once more to go with her. Ted Tonks joined her in attempting to convince me; he seemed kind and, from what I could tell, rather wild, and I could see why my sister liked him. I heard a noise below, and shooed them away in a panic that we had betrayed our presence on the roof. As their silhouetted forms grew smaller against the night sky, I realise I had secretly hoped that Tonks would not appear that night. However, the next day when my parents discovered Andromeda missing, I felt a relief that she had gone beyond anything I have ever known.
Unsurprisingly my father was beyond rage at the discovery of Andromeda's flight. I was questioned mercilessly, and although I was already a fairly accomplished Occlumens at the time, I was no match for my father, who was an expert. He soon knew I had played my part in aiding Andromeda's escape, and I was punished accordingly, although not so seriously as I might have expected. My fears and suspicions grew as the day gave way to the evening, and it seemed as though the preparations for the party were ongoing. I wondered why my parents would still consider hosting the party when the bride-to-be was so decidedly absent, but I believe at that point I already knew what was to happen. And when the house-elf entered the room with my mother to help me dress in my finest robes I knew my punishment was complete. My black hair was dressed with pearls, jewels adorned my throat, and as my mother applied ointment to vanish the bruises spreading on my pale skin which were inflicted by my father only a few ours earlier, I knew that this time I was to be the trophy bride for the rich pure-blood downstairs.
That night was the only time I met Rudolphus Lestrange before our wedding. I barely spoke two words to him, so shocked was I by the entire situation. He was a large, clumsy and dull man in appearances, his elevated situation in life purely due to his family's wealth and ties. He seemed unconcerned with the fact that I was not the witch originally promised to him, in fact I hardly knew if he was even aware of this. After all, a Black sister was a Black sister. I was horrified. That night after the last guests left my pleas and protestations fell on deaf ears, my tears halted by a slap to the face. What did my father care that I was barely sixteen? What else could I have expected? I begged him to reconsider; I had another year of school left, I was bright and full of promise, I was academically gifted, would he throw all this away? His parting shot was that my achievements at school would only ever be passing amusements until I fulfilled my real destiny of becoming some great wizard's wife, and that I must never forget that I was basically my father's property, with which he may do as he saw fit. He left me that night with the quiet threat that if he ever heard the name Andromeda spoken under his roof again, he would ensure that I was rendered unable to speak another word for the rest of my life.
And so I was alone, both sisters gone, with no one to turn to. I felt sure that Andromeda would never have left had she known I would have to take her place, but as the days turned to weeks and I heard nothing concerning her whereabouts my desperation slowly turned to anger. She didn't seem to care about my fate. Narcissa had not returned to the house since her wedding, but when my mother announced that we would be visiting her at her new home I felt a surge of hope; surely my gentle eldest sister would be able to offer me some help and consolation.
I was suitably mollified by the grandeur of my sisters new home; Lucious Malfoy was evidently an extremely rich man. But the change I found in Narcissa was disturbing. Where once she was quiet and mild-mannered, she was now cold and aloof, even with me. I watched her cast a disdainful eye over her other guests, her smiles forced and unfelt. I eventually managed to snatch a few quiet, desperate words with her, unheard by our parents, but even as I outlined my situation she stopped me, informing me that she was completely aware of my proposed marriage and of Andromeda's flight, and that she thought it the best outcome for us all if I were simply to keep my head down and do as my father wished. The Lestrange family had a noble history, she told me, and I should be grateful for such an opportunity. At that point her husband beckoned her to his side, and she left me without another word, her eyes cold. I could see that Lucious Malfoy had made short work of Narcissa; she was as docile and obedient to him as a dog. It would be some years before I saw that spell over her broken.
Narcissa had been my only hope, and yet I was not resigned to my fate. Despite my fathers words we all knew it was impossible for me to marry Rudolphus Lestrange when I was still only sixteen, and there were some months remaining until my next birthday. With this in mind I approached my father a week before the beginning of my seventh year at Hogwarts, appealing for him to allow me to return to school. I meekly told him that I had been hasty and stupid to claim that I had no interest in marrying into such a noble family, and that I was deeply sorry for defying my father's wishes. But what other way was there for me to pass the time until the happy day when I could legally marry Rudolphus? I made my case in the hope that I could come up with some way to avoid any marriage with the few months reprieve granted to me if my father allowed me to return to Hogwarts. I am quite aware that my father could probably read all of this from my mind despite my Occlumency skills, but if he did he did not show it at the time. He allowed me to return.
I was at a lost when I did return to Hogwarts. For the first time I felt truly alone, as I no longer had sisters to speak of. A certain group of wealthy, pure-blood witches and wizards at school seemed vaguely aware of the situation which had arisen over the summer with Andromeda, but as old, pure-blood wizarding families quite often disown family members deemed unworthy, the news that my sister had fled was not taken with total astonishment. As for whether anyone was aware of my impending betrothal, I did not know. Again, many people were supposedly destined from quite a young age to marry other pureblood wizards. I think, however, some may have been shocked to discover just how soon my marriage was to take place.
I threw myself into my studies. As I no longer wished to talk to my peers, my books were all that I had left. I had always been a conscientious student who found most of the work put to me easy; I was far more advanced than probably any in my year. But in my seventh year I took it to another level entirely. Purely as a distraction at first, and then as a growing obsession, I began to push the boundaries of magic, of what I could do with it and of what I knew of it. I began to discover things, wondrous things, terrible things, things that I was unsure I was allowed to be doing. But by then I was beginning to have no care for rules or laws. I suppose I was becoming what I am today.
As I seemed to have so little control of the events in my own life, I immersed myself in the magic of control; Legilimency, Occlumency, the science of illusion, mind trickery. All of it fascinated me in a way I could barely fathom. I became adept at the magic which is required to make people bend to ones every wish. And yet, at that time, I had no real intention of using it in a way which could eleviate my current circumstances. This world of dark incantations and languages gave me a freedom I never fully expected to have in reality.
I stayed for the entire year at Hogwarts, such was my fear of returning home to a wedding over Christmas or Easter. But my parents put up no protest, and even as I sat tense and cringing on the day of my seventeenth birthday awaiting some letter calling back home to my 'destiny', my fears were unfounded; one solitary owl arrived that evening with a birthday card, signed from the distant-sounding 'Most Ancient and Noble House of Black'. Such was the correspondence from my family.
My formal education was almost at an end. While I had immersed myself in my work over that year, I had not been totally unaware of the troubles in our world, the rumours and whispers that had been circulating with growing fervour over the months. The Dark Lord Voldemorts grip had been tightening for some time, but during that period the wave of violence and fear had reached a crescendo. Our family, unsurprisingly, had been quietly supportive of Voldemorts stance ever since his emergence some years before as a champion of the superiority of pureblooded witches and wizards, however they had not been active in his campaign. That year, however, the old families were beginning to feel pressure from his existing followers to act on their supposed loyalty to Voldemort; in short, there was a recruitment drive. The great households had so far been unwilling to allow themselves to be publicly ousted as supporters of the dark side, even though most of the wizarding community suspected allegiances. But the time had come to prove themselves worthy of Voldemorts mercy and favour. People were dying every day, and even families like mine could no longer be certain of their safety.
The time had finally come for me to return home, fully qualified and bolstered by the magical discoveries I had made. Although I was as withdrawn and silent as before, I had felt a quiet strength emerge in me. My fears remained; I tiptoed around my father's anger as I always had before, although I was confidant in my ability to defend myself, if need be.
My return was somewhat different to what I had expected. Our household had become a tense, jumpy place, my parents constantly on edge and awaiting news of other families in similar positions to our. As I was by all account still considered a child I was not included in whispered discussion that took place almost constantly in the house, although this did not stop me from listening. Voldemort was closing in, his power at its greatest, the number of his followers growing by the hour. Gruesome stories which at one time had been found amusing by my family were no longer so when they were occuring so close to home. I listened as my parents fretted over whether one family member was enough to placate the Dark Lord; my cousin Regulus had already been recruited, and little had been heard of him since. I listened and listened; every moment my conviction growing that I had found a way out, a perfect escape route from a life of drudgery as the wife of well-bred wizard. My powers would not be wasted this way. They would be tested.
Of course, I was incredibly naïve. In my view becoming a Death Eater was a career choice. I had no idea of what the reality of working for Voldemort would be at that time. I had been intrigued by the idea of a wizard who knew more about the nature of magic than anyone else in the world; the politics behind the actions did not particularly interest me. Obviously I believed in that a superior wizard was more likely to be a pureblood, but the truth was that I had never mixed with any witch or wizard who was not of an ancient bloodline, and so I had no real comparisons to make. My own ideas of right and wrong were already disintegrating after my year of magical experimentation, and I no longer held with the idea that there was such a thing as 'dark' and 'light' magic; there was only Power, and what you chose to do with it. In fact, this is what I still believe, but only a superior witch or wizard can fully understand it. In addition to this I truly believed that I would finally be granted freedom from the watchful eye of my family if I were to put myself forward for the cause. Perhaps they would see me as selfless and dedicated to the preservation of my bloodline.
My father, of course, laughed at me when I put my proposal to him. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that my marriage to Rudolphus Lestrange was to go ahead as planned just as soon as my husband-to-be had returned from a business trip he had been obliged to make. My father told me that I need not worry about the safety of the family; it would none of my concern once I was married. I longed to tell him that the safety of my family was the very least of my concerns. I longed to tell him that I hated him, and that I hated every single member of my family, and that I would kill him given an adequate chance. But I said none of these things. I kept quiet.
My time came eventually. We had word of Rudolphus Lestranges return, although the nature of his travels had of course been kept from me. On the morning of my wedding day I sat in silent contemplation of my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognised the dark haired girl who stared, blank-eyed, back at me. As my mother lowered the white veil of delicate lace onto my hair I felt the shackles of my future life tightening. I was a sacrifice, dressed in virginal white and adorned with ornamentation, about to be led to the slaughter. All very melodramatic, but these were my feelings at the time, the fear and horror of a child forced against her will to abandon her ambitions. I barely knew what I wanted from life, but I had an idea of what it would involve; power, magical power beyond anything I knew then, a lifetimes worth of learning and discovery. As my father walked me down the aisle towards the stranger who stood awaiting me, every step took me further away from my dream. My sister Narcissa sat next to her husband at the front, more beautiful, more proud, and colder than I had ever seen her. Her eyes did not meet mine.
And Rudolphus. Plodding and dull as I had remembered him from our one and only meeting, my heart sank further still as I observed my husband. I greeted his smile with a curt nod. I would give him no sign of affection.
After the ceremony and its accompanying celebrations I found myself alone with my husband. He told me he had a gift for me, one which he had been arranging for some time and which he was sure I would appreciate, being from such a fine family. On raising the robes from his left arm, he revealed to me a new looking mark, red-raw and painful looking. It was of course the Dark Mark; a sign that, from that day forward, I would associate with freedom, with the knowledge that such freedom was possible. He mistook the tears that spiked my eyes for some unfathomable emotion, perhaps joy at his obvious devotion to the annihilation of impure blood, or fear for his own safety. I did not correct him, and could only nod mutely when he condescendingly explained that his allegiance to the Dark Lord would mean I would have to endure his absences at times.
From that point my life changed in innumerable ways. As I settled into my new home as Mrs Bellatrix Lestrange I further distanced myself from others; my contact with family became minimal, my friends long since cut off from me. But I was quite content to be left to my own devices, and I worked harder than ever to advance my knowledge of magic. My husband was indeed absent most of the time. I gathered from his brooding silences when he was at home that his time spent with his fellows and master was not going so well for him. We talked so little, Rudolphus and I; I was there for the soul purpose of hanging off his arm when we went out in society, his bride, a Black sister. And eventually I was expected to provide him with an heir; a disturbing thought for me at 17. Our wedding night had allowed him the opportunity to 'enjoy' me, but those occurrences had been minimal once married life began. I was unspeakably grateful for his absences on that account.
And yet Voldemorts grip on the wizarding world was tighter than ever, the effects of his reign visible everywhere now. Violence and death were an hourly occurrence. People crept in fear, terrified to draw any attention to themselves, or make their allegiances apparent. It was a foolhardy time to be experimenting with magic in the way I was, for it was well known that both the ministry and the Death Eaters were constantly on the look out for evidence of large acts of magic. I was unmoved. I felt oddly unconcerned for all that was happening around, and I certainly felt no fear for my own safety; to me the idea of Voldemort was still a rather abstract one, and not a force I should be particularly afraid of. Of course I had not encountered him in person then. I believe the magic was beginning to take its hold on me; certain forms of magic can do that, claim you from the inside out, and raise you to a level of consciousness and knowledge beyond the comprehension of others. This is what sets apart certain witches and wizards, Voldemort being the furthest reaching and most prominent example. I respected him for that then. Indeed, I still do.
But I was growing increasingly aware of my husbands burgeoning powers. He was evidently gaining access to magical knowledge that I could not, his payment for services to his master. I could not tell much, but I was attuned enough to magical power to tell that he had something, something which I would have given anything to have. Voldemort was teaching an unworthy wizard, in my opinion, and I wanted to be the student. My jealousy grew, silently and steadily, as I watched Rudolphus expand his repertoire. He had no idea of my own interests and work, for him I was still his silent, seventeen year old bride, dutiful and elegant. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Resentment, hatred and jealousy had hardened me. I had only one goal, and I was greedy for it, my lust for more power, more knowledge growing daily. Others had controlled me in the past, and perhaps they were controlling me now, but with this magic I was the one in control. Like a jewel, I held my knowledge hidden inside me, taking a dark comfort in the thought that I could kill if wanted to, control if I wanted to, become something powerful and beautiful and free. But most of all, I wanted to know what Voldemort knew.
Rudolphus tried to refuse my command to lead me to his master, but he submitted before very long, as I knew he would. He was shocked that I could command him do anything, or show such determination, so well developed was my daily façade of meek wife.
The first meeting will always be the sweetest memory. In his presence I felt a magic like nothing I had ever experienced; he radiated force and power, the air around him practically undulated with it. It was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling to be so close to someone so powerful that first time. But here, in his actual presence, I was afraid, though I was convinced I would not be. I do not believe anyone can be close to him and not feel some level of fear. It did not matter; I knew, there and then, that I would work for this wizard, that I would do things for him in order to gain just a fragment of his power. I knew that petty questions of morals, of right and wrong, of supposed ideas of 'good' and 'evil' would never hinder my actions, just as they never had before. And as I met Voldemorts gaze for the first time, I knew that he was aware that such questions would never trouble me.
As I was initiated in the circle of Death Eaters I felt an excitement beyond anything else; my future lay before me, endless and full of possibilities, all of the magic and knowledge in the world awaiting me. Voldemort himself applied the Mark to my skin, and as the exquisite pain burned through my flesh he stared into my eyes and told me that he expected great things from me. For me, it was the begining of my life.