Last Glimpse of Innocence
The man looked into her dark blue eyes. They were alive with interest; she was clearly eager to begin her work. On the stone floor on which they stood lay a handled mirror that reflected the faint light of the chamber. He picked it up and thrust it into Bellatrix's hand. "Look into it." He spoke barely above a whisper, and his voice was far away and impersonal. She looked. Her face was a bit pale and her hair was dank and dirty. "Do you give this person, yourself, your very own soul to me? Do you sacrifice your whole being for my cause?"
Bellatrix held her breath. At that moment, all curiosity left her. She wanted to run and run, never stopping. To get away from this monster- but never had she felt this way before about him! What had happened? She wanted to vomit. "Yes, my Lord." Her voice had cracked mid-sentence. He smiled faintly and took the mirror back into his own hands.
"Good. Now come. I must make sure that you are never outside my reach."
Bellatrix, more than ever, felt disgustingly nasty and unclean. But as Lord Voldemort walked, she had no choice but to follow him. He led her to a stool and had her sit upon it. In front of the stool was a trunk, and from within it he drew a jagged blade. "Sit still," he commanded, his tone still distant and cold. He placed the point of the knife on Bellatrix's forearm. She shuddered, panic spreading through her limp body. As the tip pierced her skin, she felt like gagging. It wasn't the pain that horrified her; it was the presence of something entirely un-human sweeping through her- a raging, malevolent hatred. The desire to scream grasped her, but it seemed her voice had left. So she simply sat there on the stool, in a gloomy chamber, watching a wicked monster carve a design on her left arm. Voldemort brought the blade this way and that, sometimes letting blood flow out, pouring it into a glass vial, until finally Bellatrix recognized the image- a serpent, coming from the mouth of a skull. In her frozen terror, she had no idea how long it took Voldemort to do this, but after he laid down the knife, pointed his wand to the still bleeding arm, and whispered something she didn't even hear, she bolted out of the door and did not stop until she reached her home.
The rain pounded down on her, and dark red mixed with water. Bellatrix pulled her ruined robes around her, hiding her face, for she was unexpectedly ashamed. Arriving at her house, Bellatrix fled to her unlit bedroom and burst into unforeseen, silent tears. Stringy, wet black hair framed her pallid face as she breathed heavily, confused and unsure of what she had just done, what she had given herself to. And, without warning, she slumped into uneasy slumber, unearthly images and sounds filling her mind, things that would haunt her life forever.