Written for The International Wizarding School Championship
Round 3 : Welcome to the Dungeons, it's potions time!
Theme : Felix Felicis
Word Count : 2771
School : Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Year : Year 3
Prompt : [Main] 7. Begging (Action),
[Additional] 1. Dungeons (Setting),
[Additional] 10. Drizzling - Rain (Weather)
I.
In all twenty years of her life, Bellatrix Black has only ever felt repressed. Repressed and suffocated. She's always had ambition, always had great plans for power except, as her mother tells her none-too-gently again, it would ruin their family's impression–put a damper on the Blacks' power. It's the twentieth century still, and they are, after all, the aristocrats of the Wizarding world. It wouldn't do for a daughter from the Black family to be seen working her way through the ministry, running for minister of magic. The wizarding world would never let a woman run their ministry anyway. No, she's to be married off into a respectable pure blood family and gain the Blacks another vote in the Wizengamot. Traded. As if she were a commodity.
Bellatrix wants to scream out every rebellious thought inside her head and tell everyone exactly what she thinks of their ideas of how she is supposed to behave. Instead, she blankly looks her mother in her eyes, unwavering all through her admonishment, even as Druella's lips set into a thin line, which she knows not be a good sign. Druella only glares at her icily before leaving the room in a flurry of robes. Bella relaxes, but only just, waiting for Narcissa's disapproving voice to cut the thick tension in the room as she knows it will.
"I don't understand why you feel the need to upset mother so. It'll only take a turn for the worse, you know." Bella doesn't need to turn to know that there is a dainty frown marring Narcissa's features.
She doesn't reply, afraid she'll say things she'd regret. She stares at the brightly wallpapered wall instead, reciting to herself the names of all the heavenly bodies she knows, all that her family members are named after—Cygnus, Cassiopeia, Orion, Sirius, Andromeda… She stops and exhales sharply, anger and resentment bubbling in the throat. She would never forgive Andromeda for marrying a filthy mudblood, never. But now she's finally starting to understand why Andy had always been so desperate to get rid of her aristocratic status and ties to the Black family. If it weren't for her love for Narcissa, she would've run away too. They are twins after all, they share more than just their appearances.
II.
Bella doesn't think that her distaste for the curse that is patriarchy can expand any further, but she is proved wrong yet again as she smiles almost painfully at the numerous wizards her mother has introduced her to(all of whom are leering at her unabashedly) and hopes it doesn't look like a grimace.
She finally manages to excuse herself from the gentlemen and starts weaving her way through the other guests, searching for Narcissa, whom she had lost in the crowd when her mother had gotten hold of her.
She doesn't even understand what it is that has led her to accompanying her mother and father to this Christmas ball that the Malfoys have organised in the honour of a wizard that is nowadays said to be the greatest wizard to be born. He is said to be as powerful as Dumbledore, perhaps even more so, and set onto the path to reform the wizarding world, purge it of mudbloods and overthrow the statue of secrecy. She quietens the little voice in the back of her head who tells her exactly why she is where she is, because you wanted to know if it was true. She's about to go out into the gardens to continue looking for her sister when she suddenly stops, and the door to her left opens with a bang and everyone is quiet. Lord Voldemort does make quite an entrance.
She knows of him from having heard her father speak of him during meals, such a great wizard, such great ability, such great plans. "Lord Voldemort will cleanse the wizarding world", she's heard him say, and he says it with reverence. It is through him that she'd come to know of the followers he was gathering–Death Eaters, and he had declared that he would recruit anyone who was loyal, anyone whose blood was pure, anyone who had the same thirst for power and who wanted the wizarding world to rise above the filthy muggles, to get out of the hiding they had been forced into. Anyone. Even Witches. She hadn't had to pretend to be interested in that conversation that day. Lord Voldemort radiated power. You could feel his presence in your core–something strong, powerful, and cruel. And it was this power she is attracted towards.
She finds herself wandering towards him instead of looking for Narcissa like she had set off to, and finds herself standing a few feet off a group of wizards that are quite apparently tripping over themselves to please their lord, to prove their worth. She stands for a moment and observes. Even if the Death Eaters didn't behave like over excited puppies, it would be easy to mark him as a leader. She stands there for a few more minutes as she watches more wizards arrive to greet their leader, and her father is one of them, telling him that The Ancient and Most Noble House Of Black supported his endeavours wholeheartedly.
She doesn't think her father has realized yet that it is not he who is playing the Dark Lord like a fiddle, and that their roles have been reversed, but then, he doesn't realize half the things he should. But he sees her standing and he has excused himself and crossed over to her with a frown, asking her why she wasn't with her mother or with Cissy flirting with some elite wizard. He herds her towards where she knows Druella is and also away from the Dark Lord. Bella can feel eyes boring into her back, though, and she cannot help but look over her shoulder to see who it is and her eyes lock with the red of the Dark Lord's himself, but then her father is tugging her away again and she has to look away.
III.
Bella finds herself even more intrigued by the Dark Lord and his plans for power as the month progresses slowly after the Christmas Ball, the weather turning from the usual December cold to a dreadful wet and rain filled winter not usually associated with January, filled with light drizzling here and there, which, now that she comes to think of it, reflects her own emotions in a twisted philosophical way. She's now begun to actively search for any information about him and his band of Death Eaters she can get her hands on, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't finding the lure of power tempting. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out just how tempting being a death eater is to her. But she isn't going to tell them of her plans to join them, of course, if she can, that desire to throw caution to the wind and just go through with it is heightened every time she finds mention of his deeds. It reaches its peak when she sees him in flesh again at the annual charity auction her parents organize to raise funds for St. Mungos.
His arrival there is unexpected–there are, after all, ministry employees present. But he seems to disregard this as trivial and drinks in with a sort of masked pleasure as his followers, the Death Eaters, trip over their robes while rushing to greet him. She finds herself watching the scene unfold for more than a few minutes from over a wizard's shoulder who has been droning on and on about his views on the goblins and Gringotts for more than a little while. She gets quite a start when she finds herself looking into red eyes from across the room then, for the Dark Lord seems to be looking at her directly. She holds his gaze unwavering for a moment, then looks away feeling, for some inexplicable reason, completely naked before him–as if he could read all of her thoughts and she could hide nothing from him. She then begins to avoid looking in his direction at all, although her thoughts cannot help but wander still towards his aura.
IV.
She doesn't think she could ever understand why wizards we always so delusional, or why they would think she would like to engage in any sort of activity with them, but what nags her just a little as she makes her way towards outside is why she is so unnerved by it this time that the only thing that had stopped her from creating a scene inside had been Narcissa's hand upon her own, guiding her away from that absolute lunatic, who had thought he could lay his hand on her. She knows that if she had stayed, she would have forgotten her mother's strongly worded instructions telling her to be nice and cursed him into oblivion in a fit of recklessness. Instead, she lets her impulsiveness guide her to goodness knows where.
She is rather startled, however, when she finds herself in one of the numerous dungeons the Black Manor has. This in itself is not surprising–she has found herself here when she is troubled more times than she'd care to count. She is more astonished at the other occupant of the Dungeons, the Dark Lord, who seems to be looking for something amidst the forgotten mass of, no doubt priceless, objects in it. He turns around scowling before he notices her near the entrance to the chamber, and his lips curl into a smile which she by now has memorised.
She thinks about the events of the evening for a moment, none of them pleasant, and about how much she hates living a life so subdued and fancies that her reckless streak has probably now reached its peak, if what she is about to do is any indication. She feels as if she is high on Liquid Luck when she further approaches the dark lord.
"I would like to join your cause, My Lord, if I am welcome." her voice is controlled, and she tries to hide the hope in it, although he probably sees it anyway.
The Dark Lord is not surprised, not that she had expected him to be–she is sure he sees all of her, knows her intentions and all of her past, and she knows it to be true when his smile becomes larger. He studies her for a moment, and it she has to physically restrain herself from fidgeting under his scrutiny. His voice is quiet when he speaks, but it carries over to her smoothly,
"Our cause, Bella, welcomes anyone who wishes to cleanse the wizarding world, anyone who wants to take from the infiltrators of our world what is rightfully ours." he pauses slightly "And you, so young, so full of ambition and power… A true Slytherin, are a worthy addition to our noble cause."
Bella feels as if someone is gently guiding her left hand forward and slipping her sleeve backwards, until the smooth skin of her left forearm is exposed, and then, suddenly there is pain so sharp she can barely think around it. It doesn't even occur to her to scream. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain stops and there is a black mark over the expanse of her inner forearm that shows a snake protruding from a skull. She has been branded.
V.
It probably would've done her some good to see if she were being followed, but Bella hadn't bothered to do so in her angered state and this fact is increasingly being made clear by her mother's scream, which is more terrified and outraged than she has ever heard it to be, and suddenly, it seems that Bella is finally coming down from her high streak and reality is finally starting to sink in again. She has gotten herself branded. Father would skin her alive. The Dark Lord merely looks vaguely amused and walks out of the dungeons, saying something to her father who has just arrived at the scene and who is only half listening to whatever his wife or his master are saying to him, his eyes transfixed to the mark on her left arm.
The party is cut short after this, and Bella sees her mother collapse on the staircase which connects the dungeons to the upper floors, pretty sure that by now Parkinson and Greengrass would already have spread the word and all of the aristocratic wizarding families of Britain know of her deed. She doesn't try to go talk to anyone, opting instead to sit down where she is, not caring about her expensive robes. She doesn't feel as horrified by her actions as everyone is making them out to be, infact, as she sits there waiting for her parents to come punish her for what she had done, which she knows she will, she feels better than she had in a long time. She's their own daughter and blood after all–pure blood. What is the worst that they'll do?
VI.
She finds out quickly enough that the worst that they would do is nothing to be laughed at, all without spilling a single drop of blood. Her family, including herself, all dabble in dark magic. What is she expecting, really? Her father fires a number of curses at her that she cannot name, all of which are undeniably all dark, and the pain she feels at this instant is like the pain she felt at the time of being branded, except ten times stronger, powerful enough to cause serious damage to her body and mind. When it seems to her that her father is through with torturing her, she is lays curled up on the floor and breathing heavily, trying to find the energy to stand and take herself to her bedroom.
It is because of this pause in her torture that when it first hits her, she is taken by complete shock and surprise, her body feeling like every part of it is on fire. She had been so preoccupied by the pain that she hadn't even heard the incantation, the Crucio her mother sends her way making her collapse and wither on the ground of the dungeon, reduced to begging for mercy. She thinks it is bad the first time, but her mother promises her it's only a small portion of what is yet to come. She isn't lying. The second and the third and the fourth, and however many number of times Druella curses her daughter it feels as if a hundred, thousand knives are being used to cut her body, to stab it, and then as if those are all being twisted in for good measure.
Bella thinks that by the time it ends, early in the morning, she might've been reduced to begging not only for mercy, but for her life. She still has all of her limbs attached, although moving them even slightly causes destructive amounts of pain, and all she does is lie on the floor of the chamber, hardly moving or making noise. All of this pain at the cost of one decision that she had taken for herself, but it is a decision she refuses to regret, a decision that will feed her hunger for power and ambition for the rest of her life. She is a Death Eater now, and she is going to be following Lord Voldemort's footsteps, going through a path of death and destruction. But now that she's felt what it's like to be on the receiving end of all those curses she has only before fired in her head at any who try to patronize her, she knows that this is what she wants for all of who try to objectify, trade, or try to use her, to feel. She wants them to beg to her for mercy much the same way she had, every last one of them, and now that she's seen in between bouts of pain how much pleasure it gives to the caster, she knows that she'll feel this euphoria every time she casts these spells.
One thing Bellatrix Black does decide while still lying on the ground of the Dungeon is that it is this euphoria she wants to know and feel every time, like she had felt about the feel of liquid luck running through her veins the previous night. And she will stop at nothing to satiate this bloodlust or to reach those much greater levels of power. She has carved out a path of Ambition and Power, and nothing could stop her from following it anymore.
A/N: I know this isn't much, but I think I still like this little piece. And I tried to show(although I don't think it's all that obvious) that the slightly maniac version of Bella that we see sets in after she is tortured by Cygnus and Druella, as a result of her being Crucio'd. Yes. Like she did to the Longbottoms.
Tell me how you like it, though. :)