Black Sword
She knew when she was eleven years old.
September the 1st had been the same for her as it was for every other new Hogwarts student. She had been dropped off at the train station at ten thirty that morning by her doting and proud parents and her sad but slightly jealous little sister, Cissy–
Narcissa! Blacks were too dignified for nicknames, her mother had said.
She had followed Andi – Andromeda! – onto the Hogwarts Express and quickly found a compartment with Severus Snape, a half-blood whom she had met many times in the past few years. It seemed that his mother was hoping to match them up, and that would suit the Blacks just fine – their daughter married to a member of the Prince family! – if it weren't for the boy's father.
Others entered their compartment – Walden Macnair, Rabastan Lestrange, Theodore Nott, Evan Rosier, and a small boy named Matthias Wilkes – and sat with them. They spent the train ride bemoaning the loss of leaders with a true vision for the future.
When they arrived at Hogwarts, she was sorted into Slytherin, as her parents had hoped, rather than Ravenclaw, like And – Andromeda. She sat with Snape, Macnair, Lestrange and a group of third years – including Rabastan's older brother, who watched him with pride – sniggering and belittling the dotty old man at the center of the head table.
And when he rose to give his start of term speech after the feast, she was just a bit slow to fall silent before he spoke.
Father had always said that Dumbledore was a bumbling old fool, after all. He'd never been able to outsmart the Dark Lord, had he?
She'd sneered throughout the old man's entire speech, chuckled with the other Slytherins on the walk to the dungeons, then thrown herself into a chair in the common room and longed for home.
Frowning slightly, she wondered what An – Andromeda was doing in the Ravenclaw commons. Her sister was a sixth year now, and maybe now that she was here she'd be able to find out what her fights with her parents had been about in the previous year. When And – Andromeda had come home for Christmas the year before, their parents – and Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion – had been furious about the letter they'd received from Professor Slughorn.
Bellatrix was insatiably curious, but she wasn't worried. After all, And – Andromeda was a Black. There was no way she was doing something so terrible as dating a Mudblood.
Reassured, her mind turned to home once more, and she wondered if Cis – Narcissa was asleep yet. Would she be holding her stuffed frog, which she always insisted would one day become a prince? Would she have missed Bellatrix at all?
Did she cry?
They had sat together and cried when And – Andromeda left, she remembered. Bellatrix had been six years old, her sister only four, and they had huddled together on Andi's bed and cried themselves to sleep.
Andromeda! Blacks are too dignified!
Yes, Mother, she thought dutifully.
Mother.
All of a sudden, she missed home with a vengeance. She wanted to run and hide in the treehouse in their backyard again, pulling Cissy along to play dollhouse as Andi made their excuses. She wanted to be sweet little Bella again, curled up in her big sister's lap, reading a story about princes and princesses and happily-ever-after that she would have to hide as soon as her mother woke up. She wanted to forget about Dark Lords and wars and blood and status and just be.
The tears broke free and she curled up in the armchair, her head pillowed on her arms as she wept.
"Hey, little Bell," a voice interrupted, and Bellatrix looked up to see a black-haired boy watching her with a smile. "Miss your parents?"
Bellatrix Black was far too young and sheltered to recognize the smile of a predator.
Looking up at Rodolphus Lestrange, the boy she'd idolized since she was six, she knew.
She knew she'd do anything to have him look at her with pride in his eyes.
In that moment, sweet little Bella Black died. And Bellatrix was all that remained.
