Despite the Past
A/N: This could be considered a missing scene to Deathly Hallows, before the Trio used the Room of Requirement correctly. And I tend to use Greek translation for spells…just because Latin seems boring to me. The epitaph comes from Siege of Valencia, by Felicia D. Hemans. Enjoy.
A gust of warm night wind blew her sweaty hair out of her eyes, and Bellatrix breathed deeply- the air held other smells that excited her; dust, burning, chaos… it infused her blood and made her grin wickedly.
In a wild effort to keep the smell in the air, she took off in a sprint down the hall, dragging her wand across the portraits and setting them aflame. They shrieked and floundered on the floors, trying to put themselves out.
In a huff, Bellatrix stopped and tried to get her bearings; the castle halls were confusing, but her master gave her enough information. Second floor- a room that would present itself when she focused on finding what she truly wanted. Which, if her loyalty truly lay with the Dark Lord, would give her exactly what he needed…the diadem of Ravenclaw.
She swelled with pride at the memory of him requesting her for such a task. It would give her the one chance to redeem herself and what was left of the family name. Everything was left up to her, and her family angered her to no end.
It's just like before, she thought angrily. Malfoy screwed up everything…first her master's diary- no, Bella reminded herself that she had no idea, no control over that…then the prophecy. She had unwittingly left that up to Malfoy as well. But no, she had to go give Sirius a piece of her mind…
She wished that she could go back and do everything over again. Then she wouldn't have be roaming these halls while missing the battle- missing all the fun… Had she realized all those years ago what she had to do, she wouldn't have been in Azkaban and things wouldn't have gone all wrong… and she wouldn't be left to pick up the pieces of what was left to the Black family name.
Giving into her sixth sense, she spun around and noticed an ornately carved door with a curious portal that glowed like water dancing on a ceiling. Off in the distance she could hear the battle, going strong for hours now, and she had slipped inside from the grounds; undetected in the frenzy of war.
Bellatrix went inside, closing the door behind her. She found herself in a disused classroom, with dusty windows and cauldrons stacked pell-mell along the back walls. No, this must not be the room, she thought. She was about to leave until she saw the mirror, as dusty as the windows, but sending back a strange reflection.
She could see figure faintly, but while walking closer, she could also see herself diminish in age. Bella was feet away when a large field of red poppies came into view. Her hands twitched at the memory, and a terrible feeling- something close to regret held her to the mirror's image.
"Plaisio Econa!" and with a snap of her wand, images the Mirror of Erised surrounded her.
The field she had recognized immediately; it was where she and Narcissa used to come to when they were little…usually to visit their mother. It had been some thirty odd years since Bellatrix had been there, and as she trudged through the poppies, the little wooden chair that stood sentinel to the plain tombstone was still standing.
It was a cloudy day, and it almost looked as if the skies were about to open up with rain. It was a strange feeling; looking at her twelve-year-old hands as she stood next to the chair.
"I'm wasting time. It's not here," she said angrily, cursing herself for making a stupid decision on using the mirror. Bella took out her wand, about to cancel the charm when an old but familiar: "So you're not going to stay and talk?" reached her ears.
"Why should I?" she barked. There was more anger bubbling up inside of her. The feeling was from the temptation of staying to talk with her mother, and the weakness and heartache that came with it. She was failing again, and she knew it. Now she had to stop before it was too late.
"Why should I?!" she nearly shrieked again. It was all pouring out now: "You left us! You left us! And I was left to pick up the pieces!"
Bellatrix realized that she may have imagined the voice. It certainly was disembodied; there was no way that her mother was talking to her from the grave. She straightened her back and looked down loathingly at the tombstone.
"I made the same mistake, all those years ago…all those times wasted coming here," Bella's lip curled in disgust at the thought of her Achilles' heel, her voice was dark and cold. "Thinking that you would come back, thinking that we weren't left to a life of living amongst muggles and half-breeds. I learned long ago that dirt and bones were the only thing that you would ever give me… and look at where I stand. I'm not surprised that you ended up in drowning in your own pure blood. But that's where we're different, aren't we Mother?"
Her impressively tall, dark adult figure now stood over the tombstone. "I was the strong one. And you died alone. And here you will stay- alone. Because I am not coming back." She said the last few words with defiance, and canceled the charm.
Bellatrix was standing once again facing the mirror. The tombstone sat forlornly in the poppies, and the sky began to pour. Then that helpless feeling began to creep back into her skin, and she watched with dread as the flowers were pounded into the grass by the rain. Little by little, she could see the faded etching at the base of the tombstone:
There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fountain
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother's heart.
With an almighty howl of emotional pain and anger, Bellatrix snapped her wand at the cauldrons. They tumbled and fell in a deafening clamor of iron and as she whipped her cloak about her and ran, she heard the satisfying sound of shattering wood and glass.