A.N: I wrote this in reference to the picture of Bellatrix that we see in the Daily Prophet, in The Order of the Phoenix. Please review 3
She didn't want them to come in.
She could hear them, him, the Minister of Magic, foolish fool. Talking quietly as a thousand locks clicked and three hundred bolts stirred. He was stammering, stuttering, stupid, stupid man. Dementors were taking an effect on him, as they would. She, after thirteen years imprisonment, was too used to the cold, empty atmosphere. The dementors were nothing more than ghostly friends, these days.
Of course, immunities to the Dementors didn't come with out a fair fee. She was quite definitely insane.
A streak of light shot across her cell from the heavy iron door. So used the solitude, the darkness, she leapt towards the source hungrily, unaware of the cuffs holding her back. An inaudible warning echoed from the other side of the door, but she didn't take it into consideration. As the light stretched across her face, she pulled at the chains on either side of her arms and screamed, like a child in the act of disipline, at the severe faces of her intruders.
"Now, now, Bellatrix," Fudge called out, trying to look easygoing, but his features were white and weak. "Smile, please!"
Instead, of course, Bellatrix scowled, and began screeching repressively, blinking manically as the flash of a camera went off in her eyes.
"I think you should rest!" Fudge shouted over the screaming. He flicked his wand once, and Bellatrix closed her mouth instantly, before falling unconcious, hanging limply from her imprisonment.
She just had to wait. He would rise again, soon.