Bellatrix's death


Bellatrix Lestrange laughed, the same exhilarating laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil plummeting to his death. Molly's curse had soared beneath her outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Her eyes bulged: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, then she tumbled over. And Voldemort screamed.

My Lord, my master, my lover… or just my love, for he never returned it, and now never would.

And he screamed. Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last and best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Bellatrix smiled. That was enough. That was the last thing she heard before she finally left this world. His scream, his fury—at her death. At last, a confirmation of his feelings. While it may not have been love, at least she knew he cared. And that was enough. She left the world with a contented smile on her face.