Okay, so Bellatrix Lestrange is one of my favorite villains in the HP series. However, JKR never really gives us very much about her background, nor does she explain what drove Bellatrix to murderous insanity. Since I refuse to believe she was born that way (what's the fun in that? ^.^), this fic is my attempt to explain all of these things. Behold, the life of Bellatrix Lestrange!

I shall warn you now that this fic may contain an odd pairing... because I love trying to make them work. Make of it what you will. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am not the A6 (Absolutely Amazing and All-Around Awesome) JKR. If I was, I would not be spending time writing fanfiction, I'd be making millions with another bestselling book. As it is, I can only offer my humble tribute to her work.

First Betrayal

"Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, and he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

The words still echoed magnificently as Bellatrix Lestrange swept out of that wretched dungeon with the others condemned to the equally wretched Azkaban, escorted by the hooded, merciless dementors. Of her companions, she alone remained utterly unperturbed by their sentence, her head thrown back in defiance, her eyes gleaming with maniacal passion as she proclaimed for all the court to hear: "THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN!"

Yes, Bellatrix reflected later, alone in her maximum-security cell. He would rise again, and he would come for them, for her… And when he did, she, and she alone, would be his most trusted, his most faithful, his favorite amongst all of his followers… She would wait for him. Oh yes, she would wait.

* * *

19 years earlier…September 1, 1962

Bellatrix Black could hardly wait! Finally, after eleven long years, she was all set to go to Hogwarts. Her trunk was packed (with robes on top, so she could change as soon as she boarded), she had all her supplies, and Mercury, her new tawny owl, was perched elegantly in a cage. What more could a first-year ask for? All around her, frantic parents dashed about with harried expressions, trying to reach their children with forgotten items. Bellatrix grinned. She didn't have to worry about that. Her mother was the most efficient person on the planet. Speaking of which…

"Mum, why can't we go too?" Her two sisters, one dark-haired like Bellatrix, the other with flowing golden locks, were pleading with their mother. Druella Rosier-Black was not impressed by this childish display.

"How many times must we go over this?" she snapped. "Bellatrix is eleven years old, enabling her to go to Hogwarts. You two are not eleven years old, and thus you cannot go yet." Druella Black said this in a manner similar to one adopted by a rather impatient teacher trying to explain something to a particularly unintelligent child.

Although neither seemed convinced, the dark-haired one turned and embraced Bellatrix sadly, trying not to appear jealous of her older sister. "Bye, Bella."

Bellatrix returned the hug warmly. "Bye, Andromeda."

Blonde Narcissa followed Andromeda's example. "It's still not fair," she whined.

"I know," said Bellatrix, smiling down at her youngest sister. "But you'll get your chance soon enough, Cissy."

Druella Black was last to bid the eleven-year-old farewell. But it was not to be at all warm or sentimental. Rather, the woman decided on a mini-lecture, delivered in her usual crisp fashion. "Bellatrix Black, you are my eldest child, a descendant of the Noble (and Most Ancient) House of Black. We are a pure family, and you are not to associate with any of that Mudblood scum and tarnish our reputations. You know what will happen if you do," she added darkly.

Bellatrix swallowed, remembering the scorch marks on the Black Family Tree at Aunt Walburga's house. Being disowned from the family, shunned forever from the people she loved, the people that she needed to love her... it would be a fate worse than death, at least in her young eyes.

Druella Black must have seen the anxiety in her daughter's expression, because she softened a little bit and added, "Just remember the family motto and you'll do fine."

"Toujours Pur," said Bellatrix, nodding eagerly. "Always pure."

Her mother smiled thinly, a rare sight to behold. "Goodbye, child, and good luck." And with those words, she all but dragged the younger girls away, leaving Bellatrix to board the train alone.

She headed off toward a compartment and attempted to lift her heavy trunk onto the train, but it just wouldn't budge. Great, she thought. Just my luck. She glanced around, but no one seemed to notice a first year struggling to board the train. Just then, a boy walked up to her. "Need help?" he asked with a friendly smile. Bellatrix nodded gratefully.

Once the trunk, the owl, and Bellatrix were safely in the compartment, the boy hopped in with his own trunk. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" When she shook her head, the boy sat down opposite her.

"I'm Kingsley," he said, holding out a hand.

"Bellatrix," she replied, shaking it.

There followed several moments' worth of awkward silence. Kingsley turned to stare out the window of their compartment, quietly observing the chaos as students hurried to board the train. Bellatrix glanced at her watch. It was getting closer and closer to eleven o'clock…

Now, when meeting others, people tend to be overcome by a usually dormant, ancient and primordial human instinct: sizing up your opponent. In less-civilized times, this usually meant something along the lines of: Is this person dangerous? Do they pose a threat to my well-being? If they attack me, can I defend myself? Our modern version is quite different, as our lives do not usually depend on this impulse. Still, it is only natural that most people want to know what they're dealing with when getting to know strangers, and Bellatrix was no exception.

The girl had pulled out her pristine copy of "The Beginners Guide to Transfiguration (Grade 1)", but she wasn't really reading. Instead, she was shooting covert glances at the compartment's other occupant.

He was fairly tall for his age, and of a lean and wiry build. His face was nondescript, really; no comment there. Bella didn't find him particularly handsome or anything, but there was something about him… It took her several moments to figure it out. It wasn't so much his facial features, it was his expression. He seemed so friendly, so open, like you could tell him all your problems and he would have the answers. An intriguing quality.

Kingsley, did he say? Bella smiled. It was a nice name. Kingsley, she mused. I don't think I've heard my parents mention a Kingsley before… She froze suddenly. Not unless… No. It couldn't be.

Kingsley, unaware of Bella's scrutiny, turned to face her. He glanced at his watch, looking uncomfortable.

The stillness of the compartment was becoming too much to bear. Bella decided to take the initiative. "So… are you a first year, too?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. It's so exciting, you know? I mean, actually coming here and all. My mum practically cried for joy when we got my letter…"

"Really? Mine didn't," said Bellatrix. "Then again, she doesn't ever really cry. Or laugh, for that matter. I guess she's just not the emotional type."

"Yeah, neither is my dad. He's more the 'strong and silent' type," said Kingsley, laughing.

Bella grinned. It looked like she was making a new friend already, and the train hadn't even left the station yet! "I think they're happy for us, though. In their own ways."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Say, did you hear the news? Puddlemere United crushed the Montrose Magpies in the match last night."

"What?" Bella couldn't believe her ears. "No, I didn't hear…" To tell the truth, she had been so excited about going to Hogwarts that she'd forgotten to check the Prophet for the match results.

"Yeah, it was humiliating." Kingsley shook his head. "Man, they're my favorite team, too. How could they get pounded like that?"

"Wait… you're a Magpies fan?" Bella asked, a small smile forming on her face.

"Yeah, why?"

"So am I!" Bella practically screamed. "I have all their posters, and the little collectable action figures, and two of their autographs, and…"

Kingsley was grinning, too. "No way! Autographs?"

"Yeah, my dad took me to a match when I was younger. I can't believe this! I didn't know they had very many fans under the age of thirty."

"You're looking at one!" said Kingsley with a laugh. "You're right, though, a lot of people our age are gravitating toward the Chudley Cannons for some reason. I don't get it."

"Neither do I," Bella said, shaking her head. "I mean, 'We shall Conquer'? And let's see… the last time they won the Cup was in, what? 1892?"

Thus began a lengthy conversation about Quidditch, broomsticks, and the Magpies' chances of winning the Cup. That lasted them until the food trolley rolled by. Bellatrix was amazed. Sitting here with Kingsley, surrounded by heaps of food they had bought, laughing at the stupidest things… it was like they'd been friends forever, as opposed to a few hours. They talked about anything and everything: their families, their lives, their hobbies… But eventually, there came a point where the two children finally ran out of things to say, and they came in desperate need of another topic. So, logically, the subject passed to something on both of their minds: school.

"So, what House are you hoping to get Sorted into?" asked Kingsley, munching on a Chocolate Frog.

Bellatrix almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of this question. "Slytherin, of course, like all the rest of my family!" As if I would even dream of being in another House, she thought.

"Oh," said Kingsley, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Why?" Bella asked, puzzled by his reaction. Hadn't he told her he came from a pureblood line? She was sure he had. "What House do you want to be Sorted into?"

"Erm… Gryffindor," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Like all the rest of my family."

Bellatrix nearly choked on her Cauldron Cake. Gryffindor?! But he's so… nice! Bella was in shock. How was this possible? Gryffindors weren't supposed to be nice! Gryffindors were supposed to be rude and full of themselves, not nice and… and friendly. Bella groaned. All her life she had been raised by her parents to loathe Gryffindors. Gryffindors- who, according to her parents, were nothing but Mudbloods, mutts (half-bloods), and blood traitors! But what was she supposed to do now, having met and befriended one?

"Does it matter?" Kingsley asked, uncertain. "My wanting to be in Gryffindor?"

Oh, God. What was she supposed to say to that? Yes, it makes a difference, she wanted to scream. Of course it makes a difference! My parents would disown me for being friends with a Gryffindor! But he was nice… and he made her feel like someone. Not like yet another member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, just another pawn whose only role in life was to uphold the family reputation… but like Bellatrix Black, a person in her own right. Bellatrix Black, whose entire view of the world was crumbling around her ears.

Bella's mind was in utter turmoil. She could picture Aunt Walburga scorching her name off the family tree…

He's your friend, said a strange new voice within her.

But he wants to be a Gryffindor!

But he's your friend, the voice persisted.

I've only known him for a day! Less than a day!

Bellatrix Black, chided the voice. Look at yourself. Have you ever laughed this hard with anyone else? Ever had a real conversation like this with anyone else? Be honest, now.

Of course I have! Erm… with Andromeda and Narcissa! And my parents! And… um…

Really?

Bellatrix paused. Looking back, she couldn't recall even one real conversation she'd had with anyone in her family, or with anyone else for that matter. With her parents, it was just lectures about the importance of upholding the family name and reputation. And her sisters? She smiled bitterly. Not with them either, she realized. I don't even really know them. I never noticed before, but I couldn't tell you what they like, or what their hobbies are… It's like we're total strangers. Bella sighed. She had never really ever thought to talk to her sisters. Maybe because I didn't see them as people, only competition. Competition for my parents' love. And outside of her family, she had no one.

Tears started to well up in her eyes. The realization had struck her like an arrow of truth, and needless to say, it hurt. I've never had a friend before, she thought. Not before now.

And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

"No," she whispered. "It doesn't matter."

It was a scene straight from a sappy children's story. Kingsley's face lit up with a smile, and Bella couldn't help it: she smiled back. And as though nothing had happened at all, the two plunged right back into an animated conversation.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set. Kingsley had just finished a story about one of his brother's mishaps on a broom when the compartment door opened and two tall, dark-haired boys swaggered in. Bellatrix remembered them from one of her parent's parties: The Lestrange brothers, Rabastan and Rodolphus. They weren't twins, since Rabastan was a year older than his brother by a year, but they were almost always together. In fact, they were both going into their fourth year at Hogwarts, so Bella could only assume that Rabastan had gotten held back (or something along those lines). The Lestranges, it seemed, were a prominent pureblood family, and Bella's parents had encouraged her to talk to them. However, given the age difference, these conversations had mostly been rather dull and mechanical.

"Hey, look who it is," said Rabastan with a condescending smile.

"Isn't that little Bellatrix Black?" Rodolphus' manner was equally patronizing. "We've been searching the train for you, Bella. We promised your parents we'd watch over you…" His gaze fell on Kingsley, who shifted uncomfortably. A cold, cruel smile began to form on his lips. "What're you doing sitting with a Mudblood, Bella?"

Bellatrix flushed. "He's not-"

"Of course he's not, can't you see that, brother?" Rabastan interrupted. Bellatrix felt a sudden rush of affection towards Rabastan… until he added, "He's a Shacklebolt." The boy said this with an expression of pure contempt.

Bella saw Kingsley tense out of the corner of her eye.

"A Shacklebolt?" Rodolphus snorted, the sneer on his face marring otherwise handsome features. "A bunch of blood traitors, the lot of them! Always sympathizing with the Muggles, befouling their pure blood… and, of course, the only heir to the family name just had to go and marry some Mudblood-"

"My mother is not a Mudblood!" Kingsley cried furiously. He looked ready to attack the Lestranges, despite his smaller size and lack of magical training.

Bellatrix grabbed his arm to restrain him. "Don't," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. It would be suicide for Kingsley to attack Rabastan and Rodolphus, no matter how much he wanted to. He was no match for them, and they all knew it.

"Now, there's no use in denying the facts," Rabastan jeered, fully aware that Kingsley was powerless, and taking advantage of the fact. "Your mother is a Mudblood, polluting the magical world with her filth… Magic was meant for the elite, the pure, like us. Your mother and her kind should be eradicated like the weeds they are." His face had contorted into a mask of hatred.

Kingsley was struggling against her grasp, tears of anger streaming down his cheeks. Speechless with rage, he was doing everything in his power to free himself so he could hit Rabastan. It took all of Bella's strength and determination to keep him in check.

Rodolphus grinned, enjoying himself immensely. "Now Rabastan," he said, his voice mockingly reproachful. "You can't lay all the blame on his mother. His father is equally at fault."

"But of course," Rabastan agreed, nodding. The loathing in his expression had faded. Now he adopted a calmer, matter-of-fact tone to match his brother's. One might have thought they were merely talking about the weather if it hadn't been for the ugly words pouring out of their mouths. "His blood traitor father is certainly to blame for marrying below his status."

"Really, a pureblood clan dating back to the Middle Ages! Quite like yours, I believe, Bella," Rodolphus told her with what he obviously thought was a pleasant smile. "And then, what do you know? The only heir to the family name goes and marries a stupid, filthy, rotten, second-rate-"

"-Mudblood bitch," finished Rabastan. "And the sorry product is that mutt standing right there in front of you, brother," he added with a contemptuous glance at Kingsley.

Though he had been vehemently fighting Bella's grasp this entire time, this comment finally drove Kingsley over the edge. He broke free and launched himself at Rabastan, the closer of the two brothers.

"Naughty, naughty," said Rodolphus with a sardonic smile. He lazily flicked his wand in Kingsley's direction. There was a loud bang and a flash of blue light, followed by a scream and a thud. Then silence.

As the smoke cleared, a horrified Bellatrix saw Kingsley cowering by his trunk, his left arm bent strangely. Even Bella, who knew nothing about healing, could tell it was broken. She turned to face the Lestranges, who, she was appalled to see, were laughing like it was all play to them.

"That'll teach you not to get above your place, you filthy little blood traitor mutt," Rabastan cackled. "You should know better. Are we to believe that Mudbloods are our… equals?"

Rodolphus snorted derisively. He looked at Bellatrix expectantly and said, as though nothing had happened: "So, Bella, we're off to find a better compartment. You coming?"

Bellatrix was stunned. Coming? They wanted, no, they expected her to go with them after she had just watched them enjoy breaking Kingsley's arm, and only because he wasn't a pureblood? Only because his family didn't believe in pureblood supremacy like them? How could she do that to Kingsley? The Lestranges weren't her friends; he was. How could she abandon her only friend? How…

"Come on, Bella," said Rabastan, starting to follow Rodolphus out of the compartment. "Unless you want us to tell your parents about your new blood-traitor friend," he added, smirking.

He'd hit a nerve. Clearly torn, Bellatrix looked from Rabastan to Kingsley and back again. She couldn't leave Kingsley. After all, it was partly her fault that he had been injured in the first place. And yet, she couldn't bear to be cast out of the family, either… which was exactly what would happen the instant her parents heard she had defended a Mudblood. Rabastan strutted out of the compartment, clearly pleased. Bellatrix looked sadly at her fellow first year. "I'm sorry," she whispered, before following the Lestranges out the door, leaving Kingsley behind, hurt… and not just physically.


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