Bellatrix never looks back. Life is about moving forward, and Bella always was desperate to hold onto life, to youth, to eternity. She's quite happy to give up every memory she possesses' just to keep moving. Just to keep up with him, her beloved leader, and the ideas that he represents.
So why is it, in the midst of the greatest battle, that she finds herself so solidly stuck in the past? She's entered Hogwarts only twice since she left all those years ago, once on the night when the bumbling fool was finally eliminated, and now, on the most important of all nights. This time, the memories are catching up with her, pouncing on her in every corner, following her down every corridor as she mutters curses like breathing and dispatches these oh-so-stupid students with almost shameful ease. Honestly, she snorts, as she sends a very nasty jinx soaring towards some Ravenclaws who cannot be older than fifteen, this used to be the best magical educating academy in the world. Under the reign of Albus Dumbledore it has obviously fallen into disrepair, and for a second Bellatrix savours the thought of after the war, of the future, when they have won and the wizarding world is once again for those who deserve it. But then she banishes the image from her mind, because life is about moving forward but it's not about running before you can jump. But then Bella always was about running before she could jump. If she could, she would go soaring far into the future, or better into her most private fantasies where Lord Voldemort is Tom Riddle and he loves her more than that dratted reptile and his ideals and anything else.
She is storming haphazardly round the castle she used to call home, apparating here, there and everywhere in the heat of battle, yet not stopping to seriously duel with anyone- they're no match for her anyway. She's unsure what she's looking for- is it him? Or her disgusting little niece? Or is she chasing the ghosts of her childhood? As much as she hates to admit it, she has a feeling it is the former.
For some reason, she finds herself, of all places, in the Gryffindor common room. It's deserted, all those courageous little Gryffindors downstairs fighting a losing battle, and instead of hurrying immediately to the heart of the fray as she normally does, she simply takes long strides towards the window and looks out, into the deep, ink black night that seems clouded with something evil. But she, of course, cannot sense that, for she is one of the ones that put that very cloud there in the first place.
Suddenly tired, she finds herself sinking onto the crimson window seat, and unbidden memories flood her minds eye. Sneaking into this common room just after Sirius had been sorted, and comforting him for the last time before forever severing the bonds with her cousin. She misses him, she realises with a jolt, that hearty, headstrong and yet entirely loveable boy that she had so cold-heartedly killed not two years before. Something that almost feels like remorse pulls at her centre, but she quickly quashes it.
Another memory hits her as she gazes at the tree that stands next to the lake. Andromeda, Narcissa and she simply talking, laughing like sisters do, before her middle (and always favourite) sister does the unthinkable and goes against everything the Black family name stands for to marry her precious little mud blood. The second memory, for no apparent reason, is of the Potter boy's parents, smiling happily at her from a photograph she found at Grimmauld Place. She couldn't bring herself to destroy the picture, and instead it is tucked up in Sirius' room, the only place she could think to leave it. When did she become such a muggle lover, she asks herself, half in disgust, half in wonderment. Honestly, she's Bellatrix Lestrange and she doesn't care.
This final thought brings her back to the senses which had been so mysteriously missing. She is Bellatrix Lestrange and she doesn't bloody care.
And that's the last thing she thinks as she heads back into the battle.