No, I don't own HP. This was written for the Misunderstood Challenge. I was assigned Bellatrix... and then I wrote this, haha. Enjoy!
Be Ambitious
Wizarding society had locked her up. Her, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, a woman born and raised in the most respectable circles of Wizarding Britain. They had called her a murderer. A torturer. It just wasn't true. And how dare they call her insane? How dare they, when she was the one who stayed faithful to her words, who followed when she had promised that she would, instead of hiding like swine among mud?
Sometimes, she felt too sane in today's world, where wizards could sully their magic with the tempting touch of those mudblood whores. Their children were half-blooded monsters, yet people seemed to think that it was proper for them to attend school with the children who were, to put it simply, better. Bellatrix couldn't understand why no one said a word about it. She herself had held her tongue only out of necessity — she was the wife of a Lestrange, and it was only proper that she be seen, and not heard.
And then she heard of him, the Dark Lord. At first it was only whispers of his deeds in the darkest corners of Knockturn, but soon, his presence was everywhere. He was someone who mirrored her beliefs, who knew the feelings she locked deep down inside, reverberating in her veins like a song waiting to burst forward. That intense hatred she felt for mudbloods was something they shared. He was willing to split his very soul for his cause. She followed him to a life she had only dreamed about.
Some claimed that she was in love. Bellatrix would laugh.
Love?
Love was not strong enough a word. (Indeed, not many things were strong enough for Bella.) Fervour, more like it. Veneration. Selfless adoration. These descriptions suited her feelings more. Once she had found him, she had found everything. No one else could come close to understanding the release she felt. Bellatrix could be herself. No longer did she have to hide her disgust behind a quiet mask of indifference. No longer did she have to bow before a lesser wizard, or pretend that it was acceptable for her family to tolerate the presence of filth.
So she could not comprehend the dismissal that fellow purebloods showed her. It was infuriating. Did they not see what had become of their world? A world without order was a world of chaos. The Dark Lord was just the answer they had needed. He was, simply put, their saviour.
Bellatrix was his most devout follower.
And that was how she wound up in Azkaban.
She paced in her cell like a panther pacing the entrance of its cage. The chill that passed her when the Dementors drifted by was a welcome change to monotony — the visions they brought were visions of her past failures. She would pay rapt attention to each memory, noting everything that had gone wrong, and she would remember her shortcomings for the next time. Because she knew there would be a next time, one where she would be able to do her job right, and bring every witch and wizard a step closer to deliverance. It was her duty.
When another human passed, she would snarl in hatred. She knew that she did not deserve this jailing, not when there were so many mudbloods destroying their pristine world. Bellatrix glowered them when they stopped to stare, and she would hiss, "All of you are wasting my time. He needs me."
They used to tell her that he was dead. She would laugh until they left her alone. The Dark Lord could not die, not like a common human. No, she knew he was still alive, alive and waiting.
And she would wait, as well, until she could reach him . . . .
I know, it's kind of short and everything, but I thought that it did Bellatrix some justice. I mean, I'm not going to say her character was 100% all there... but she was probably justified in her mind...
Anyways, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!