Disclaimer: I am rightfully entitled to absolutely no portion of the Harry Potter series.
Author's Note: I ripped this from a composition I will not be continuing. That's right; I have no misgivings about admitting it :) The text should be straightforward enough.
:First Impressions:
Many whisper of the Black family—of its prominent features, of its wealth.
Even so, most whispers are in respect to its politics.
It is the summer of 1965 when five young cousins first hear murder.
The door providing the entrance to Orion Black's study is locked as he, his spouse and their in-laws entertain an unidentified guest.
Sirius and Bellatrix are closest to the door. The chatter is relatively low and so the children are only able to discern the phrases, "for the preservation of pureblood society," "erase the filth," and "for the greater good."
Bellatrix's ear is pressed so firmly against the door that, when she leans away, the organ is as richly colored as a tomato.
"Will you two shut up?" She violently admonishes Narcissa and Regulus. The blonde whimpers, then growls as she slaps the young boy's hand away from her pale locks.
Merlin, they were such babies!
If not for Andromeda's interference, Bellatrix would've done the sensible thing and locked the two of them upstairs, praying they kill each other.
Was it so reprehensible to hope for the best?
And, of course, the devil just had to break her silence.
"Bella, Siri, shouldn't we—"
"Why're you always so eager to ruin the fun, Andi?" Sirius laughs lightly at the brunette, who wrinkles her nose in retort.
"We—"
Bang.
Terrible screams accompany a resounding crash. Regulus wails loudly; Narcissa gasps; Andromeda shudders.
But the eldest are immune to that which has provoked the resulting cries – probably the cries themselves as well – so transfixed are they by the flash of green light that, moments ago, flashed underneath the study door.
A doorknob turns, rooting them all to their spots. Five hearts beat with trepidation. Yet, when light illuminates the dark corridors of 12 Grimmauld Place, Andromeda seizes mobility, dragging her baby sister and youngest cousin along.
Sirius' father's study has never been so crimson, but crimson is all the young Black can make out, even as raven curls fall forward, obscuring his vision.
The scarlet liquid sullies the floor, stains bookshelves and the binding of the texts. A man lies, lifelessly, upon a desk. His eyes are large, paralyzed with surprise; his face is scarred, exposing flesh that should be hidden; his mouth is agape—filled with the scarlet substance.
The navy blue suit he wears has been ripped to pieces; the veins in his arms, his temples, his throat, are palpable.
Orion and Walburga are a sickly shade of pale. It is a mystery if they've any blood left.
Cygnus' mouth has been reduced to a taut line. Druella clings to her husband for dear life, her eyes fearful, her knees buckling.
Bellatrix stares into the pallid, gaunt face of the strange person who has infiltrated the family home.
His eyes are a brilliant red.
They captivate her.
To her mother's horror, the girl's lips form a smile. It is genuine, as natural as the smile of an ecstatic child on a white Christmas morning.
The man's eyes linger on her. She is interesting, he thinks. Very interesting. Most cower before him. Abraxas Malfoy's heir certainly had.
"Bellatrix. Female warrior, are you not?"
She beams, nodding enthusiastically. Her mother nearly faints in shock.
Sirius frowns, his insides twisting.
"Just a mudblood. Nothing more." The visitor informs the youth, coldly. His voice is high, disdainful, and uncaring. Sirius notes that he is unconcerned with the corpse. The indifference is startlingly similar to how vaguely perturbed his parents were by previous weeks' weather.
Sirius backs away, cautiously. Bellatrix inches nearer, steadily.
The man stows his wand, laughs, and Disapparates.
Fin.
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