Author's Note: So, hi everyone. This is probably the first Harry Potter fanfic I've written. I wrote it ages ago, but recently found it, dusted a bit and I'm now posting it here. I'm planning a longer Bellatrix story (multi-chap) but I wanted to see what people thought I've my writing first, so I'm posting this. I hope you like it and reviews would be lovely!
(Azzi)

Disclaimer: Unfortunatley I do not own Harry Potter, or Bellatrix, or any of the other assosiated characters with the Harry Potter series, or anything else thereof.


Hermione: "I hate that thing. I really hate it. It feels all wrong, it doesn't work properly for me… It's like a bit of her."

Bellatrix Black moved swiftly in front of her parents as they made their way through Diagon Alley. Having grown up in a pure blood family Bellatrix had been to the Alley many times, but this was the first time that she'd ever had a chance to go into the shop that was the object of her desire right now.

"Slow down!" her mother shouted from behind her.

Bellatrix did slow down. Stop rather. They had reached the shop. Ollivander's. Ollivander was a wand maker, the most well known in all of the wizarding world. Bellatrix had had a wand since the age of four, but it's magic was limited, and she could only use it for simple spells, like levitating, or transfiguring a quill into a tea cup. She had snapped that wand in half this morning, eager for her new, proper wand. The wand that should last her until the end of her life. Her parents caught up to her.

"Come on Bella, darling," her mother said. "Let's go in."

"No," Bellatrix folded her arms defiantly. "I want to go in on my own."

Her parents exchanged looks, then her father nodded,

"Very well, it is a very important moment. You can go in on your own."

"Good luck," her younger sisters, Andromeda and Narcissa, chanted together.

Bellatrix smiled at them, showing off her perfect rows of straight, white teeth, "Thanks Cissy, Meda."

She pushed open the door and entered the shop. A small bell tinkled to signal her arrival. A middle aged wizard stepped out from behind a shelf.

"Miss Black!" he greeted her with a smile. "What an honour to have you in my shop!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "I'm here for my wand."

"Yes, yes," Ollivander hurried along the shelves, his fingers twitching as her tapped each box.
He paused suddenly and pulled out a wand, "Try this one. Eleven inches, chestnut, with Leprechaun hair."

Bellatrix thought this wand was too soft, and apparently so did the wand. It flopped in her hand the second she held it.

She dropped it onto a table in front of her, "That one would be better suited to a Hufflepuff."

"How about this one?" Ollivander held another wand out to her. "Twelve and a half inches, oak and a phoenix feather core."

Bellatrix held the wand and flicked it towards the window. It shattered immediately. Bellatrix giggled when she heard the screams outside of her sisters and parents.

"Not that one," Ollivander took the wand off her before she did any more damage.

Bellatrix sighed in disappointment, then looked half-heartedly around the room. One box, black with a green label, caught her attention.

She pointed, "What about that one?"

Ollivander looked where she was pointing. He knew that wand. He had never liked it. From the moment he started its construction all he had wanted to do was snap it in half, but he had felt compelled to continue crafting it. It had been sitting on his shelf for the past eleven years. Unwillingly he climbed the ladder and pulled the box out. Once back on the floor he removed the lid and pulled out the wand.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked as she looked at the wand.

It was black, the handle thick, and it curved slightly in the middle, giving the impression of a bird's talon.
"Twelve and three quarter inches," Ollivander said. "Walnut, with a dragon heartstring core." He pressed slightly on the wand. "Unyielding."

Bellatrix took the wand from him. It felt warm in her hand. A spark shot from the end and onto the desk, which went up in flames. Ollivander pulled out his own wand, muttering under his breathe a jet of water sprung from it and put out the fire. Although setting fire to objects was usually a sign that the wand was not suited to a witch or wizard by the look in this girl's eyes he could tell that it was what she'd wanted to do.

"That one," he told her. "The wand chooses the wizard. This one has chosen you."

Bellatrix looked happily into the man's eyes, but instead of seeing joy at having sold another wand all she saw was fear. He was scared of her. She paid for the wand and left the shop. Ollivander watched her leave. This girl would come to no good, he could just feel it. After all, that wand was one of the worst he'd ever made, and it had chosen her. She would be a great witch, that much was certain, but at what cost?