Narcissa was the first to notice the change.
Bellatrix was different.
She wouldn't admit it, of course, but Narcissa knew.
Sneaking in late, dressing nicely, not noticing for once that she had borrowed her magical hairbrush – something was off. At first, she had thought it was that Lestrange boy – everyone said they had been secretly seeing each other. And the pressure on Bella to marry into a respectable Pureblood family was immense. So she had done a bad thing.
One afternoon, while Bella was out, she had invited Rodolphus over and offered him some pumpkin juice. She just didn't tell him that it was laced with Veritaserum.
"Are you involved with my sister?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"A few months now."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know."
"Who is she with?"
"I don't know."
"Why is she never home anymore?"
"The Dark Lord has great things planned for her."
And so she found out about the Death Eaters, and Bellatrix's new allegiance. She had gone to bed relieved. After all, it wasn't as though her sister were doing anything terribly bad. It was just a phase, she was sure.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Andromeda had been her sister's confidante, before. She knew that Bellatrix secretly thought their cousin Evan was cute, and that she had broken into Professor Slughorn's office to steal some Felix Felicus on a dare. She knew that Bellatrix disdained most of her "friends", and she knew that her sister harbored a secret brilliance that she refused to show in any Hogwarts classroom in a perverse sort of rebellion.
But she watched her sister's transformation into the Darkest witch of their time with the rest of the Wizarding World in the headlines of the Daily Prophet.
Andromeda waited with silent foreboding each morning for an owl to bring her the paper, and witnessed Bellatrix's secret talent unfold itself in the form of destruction and brutal murders.
A tawny barn owl rapped smartly on her window, and Andromeda gave a start before reluctantly opening it and handing the creature three knuts.
"Bellatrix Lestrange Suspected in Triple Murder!" the Prophet crowed triumphantly.
Merlin. She must be mad.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
These days, Bellatrix lived in blissful contentedness. Days passed without a single thought, only the echo of her master's voice. She could feel him, in her very veins, her own personal drug. And he loved her, she knew. How could he not? She would risk everything in his service. She was his. And he was perfect.
"Kill them," he hissed in her ear, and with a smile, she whispered, "Avada Kedavra!" her voice dripping with venom. Green flashed, and a body was thrown across a once-cozy cottage.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the chaos.
"Very good," he murmured, and she let out a breath she had not known she was holding. Her fingertips tingled with delicious oxygen.
This is what living feels like, she realized delightedly. And she didn't know why this was funny, but for some reason she couldn't stop laughing.