She hardly ever moved. She didn't twitch or scream or rock back and
forth, speaking into the ghostly silence. She merely sat staring out her
tiny, barred, window, her un-kept hair cascading down her back. It
intrigued him to no end, her peculiar manner. Even he, who had committed
himself solely to retaining his sanity, slipped once in a while and let out
a strangled sob. But she never did. She just continued to watch the sky as
it went from a fiery orange, to a pale pink, to deep purple, and finally to
pitch black, dotted with stars. Her stars.
As the years went by he became sure of one thing. She kept her sanity by staring at the stars, counting them, connecting them, and memorizing them. They were her constant and her comfort, if she ever needed one.
He vaguely remembered a conversation he had with her when they were both young, and innocent in the eyes of the world.
"Why do you stare at them like that? Are you waiting for them to speak to you or something?" he had taunted her.
"No you fool," she had answered. "You don't understand what they mean, what they hold. Have you no respect for your namesake?"
Even at the tender age of 10 she possessed an eloquent way of speaking, becoming of her pureblood upbringing.
"Well I'd rather have the moon," he stated confidently. "It's bigger and brighter."
"No it's not," she countered, "it's just closer. Besides the moon controls too much, you could never have it."
She always knew more, had seen more, and her could never prove her wrong.
He thought he had known her once. He thought he could read her, understand her. But realization hit him hard. She was a mystery to him and to all whom her presence had graced. She was beautiful but dangerous, a creature of the night, resigned to a life of darkness and she thrived in it. The darkness of the prison agreed with her. It kept her from the sun, a monster she had desperately tried to keep herself from.
He didn't recognize her when they first brought her in. She had changed so much since their childhood days. It was plain to see that her servitude to the darkness had twisted her, for he never recalled her eyes being that lidded, nor her mouth ever that thin. Hatred lined each feature and radiated off of her like an airborne poison waiting to claim its next victim.
One thing about her that had not changed was her pride. It was indestructible and would never be shattered. She laughed when they closed the door of her cell and called after the guards as they left her at the mercy of the dementors.
"I'll wait as long as it takes. You'll never break me. I will wait!" and she laughed again. It wasn't a joyous laugh, for he was sure she wasn't capable of that unless a victim had been placed at her feet. Rather it was an insane cackle of one consumed by hate.
But was it hate, he wondered as he continued to watch her stare at the night's sky? Was it really hate that drove her to such lengths? Was it hate that drove her to commit crimes that she showed no visible remorse for? Something inside him kept him from accepting the fact that she could be so wicked, so sadistic. Was is just his imagination, just his inner Gryffindor seeing a false hope of redemption and forgiveness? That must be it he thought as he turned his back on her. For in his mind there were no layers to Bellatrix Lestange. No, she was pure evil and there was no saving her now.
As the years went by he became sure of one thing. She kept her sanity by staring at the stars, counting them, connecting them, and memorizing them. They were her constant and her comfort, if she ever needed one.
He vaguely remembered a conversation he had with her when they were both young, and innocent in the eyes of the world.
"Why do you stare at them like that? Are you waiting for them to speak to you or something?" he had taunted her.
"No you fool," she had answered. "You don't understand what they mean, what they hold. Have you no respect for your namesake?"
Even at the tender age of 10 she possessed an eloquent way of speaking, becoming of her pureblood upbringing.
"Well I'd rather have the moon," he stated confidently. "It's bigger and brighter."
"No it's not," she countered, "it's just closer. Besides the moon controls too much, you could never have it."
She always knew more, had seen more, and her could never prove her wrong.
He thought he had known her once. He thought he could read her, understand her. But realization hit him hard. She was a mystery to him and to all whom her presence had graced. She was beautiful but dangerous, a creature of the night, resigned to a life of darkness and she thrived in it. The darkness of the prison agreed with her. It kept her from the sun, a monster she had desperately tried to keep herself from.
He didn't recognize her when they first brought her in. She had changed so much since their childhood days. It was plain to see that her servitude to the darkness had twisted her, for he never recalled her eyes being that lidded, nor her mouth ever that thin. Hatred lined each feature and radiated off of her like an airborne poison waiting to claim its next victim.
One thing about her that had not changed was her pride. It was indestructible and would never be shattered. She laughed when they closed the door of her cell and called after the guards as they left her at the mercy of the dementors.
"I'll wait as long as it takes. You'll never break me. I will wait!" and she laughed again. It wasn't a joyous laugh, for he was sure she wasn't capable of that unless a victim had been placed at her feet. Rather it was an insane cackle of one consumed by hate.
But was it hate, he wondered as he continued to watch her stare at the night's sky? Was it really hate that drove her to such lengths? Was it hate that drove her to commit crimes that she showed no visible remorse for? Something inside him kept him from accepting the fact that she could be so wicked, so sadistic. Was is just his imagination, just his inner Gryffindor seeing a false hope of redemption and forgiveness? That must be it he thought as he turned his back on her. For in his mind there were no layers to Bellatrix Lestange. No, she was pure evil and there was no saving her now.