The Memories of Bellatrix Lestrange
They circled each other slowly, an evil grin spread across her face, a determined look on his.
Bellatrix had found him that morning, had cornered him. Harry knew that now was the time to finish her, once and for all. Her death would be a blow to Voldemort that he would have difficulty recovering from.
Her dark eyes glinted with a malicious hunger—a hunger to hurt him, to kill him. They captivated him, drew him in deep, deeper until he felt as though he were looking into her soul…
A black-haired baby cried in a crib, reaching her arms up to her mother, who was walking by the crib. The woman looked down at the baby with disinterest and kept walking, ignoring the screaming child…
A three or four-year-old Bellatrix sat on the ground in the middle of what looked like a forest; a little blonde girl, presumably her sister Narcissa, sat a few feet away from her. They were both screaming, and stretched between them was a large snake, Bellatrix pulling on its head and Narcissa on its tail, as if they were fighting over a slinky…
Bellatrix was a teenager now and was walking down the hall at Hogwarts, a radiant smile on her beautiful face. She was clinging to the arm of a tall, dark-haired, good-looking boy. The boy was laughing; he grabbed Bellatrix by the arm and pulled her aside into an empty classroom. The classroom was dark and still and looked as though it hadn't been used in years. They let the door close behind them, and the boy led Bellatrix by the hand to the back of the classroom. He turned around slowly, a sly smile spreading across his face. She looked back at him expectantly, her own radiant smile still in place. The boy reached out, took her by the waist, and pulled her close to him, leaning back against the wall. He kissed her slowly, and then as the kiss intensified, the boy slipped his wand from inside his robes, and held the tip to Bellatrix's side. Sufficiently diverted, Bellatrix didn't seem to notice the wand. The boy pulled back, leaned his forehead against Bellatrix's, smiled at her again. Then, suddenly, his expression hardened, his eyes darkened.
"Crucio!" he cried, and Bellatrix was blasted backward.
She hit the floor hard, writhing in pain and screaming for all she was worth, until she lay unconscious on the classroom floor.
The boy walked up, stared at her limp form, grinned evilly, and left the classroom, the door clicking shut behind him and hiding Bellatrix from view…
Bellatrix was lying in bed in the Slytherin girls' dormitory, the covers pulled up to her chin, tears falling down her face as she sobbed quietly, a heartbroken look in her eyes.
She was facing the nightstand, looking at a photograph. It was a photograph of herself with the same boy who had cursed her, probably very recently, maybe even earlier that day. The boy in the photo grinned haughtily, and then pulled Bellatrix to his side and kissed her on the cheek. The real Bellatrix continued to cry for a minute, then sat up, threw off the covers, grabbed the picture, and ran out of the dormitory, still in her white nightdress.
She ran down the staircase, emerging into the Slytherin common room, where she hurled the picture across the room with a despairing cry. It hit the fireplace on the far wall. The glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, the silver frame cracked, the picture fell to the floor.
Bellatrix was alone in the common room. With a strangled cry, she sank to her knees on the floor, her arms out, palms against the floor. Tears fell onto her hands and the carpet as she began whispering quietly to herself, though the words were meant for someone else.
"How could you? How could you do this to me?" She looked up, across at the fireplace, and her voice was no longer a whisper.
"HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME?! HOW DARE YOU HURT ME LIKE THAT WHEN I ONLY LOVED YOU!" Getting up off the floor, she strode purposefully across the common room, lit a fire in the empty fireplace with her wand, grabbed the photograph off the floor, ripped it into pieces, and threw the pieces into the fire.
Then she sank back onto the ground, seeming to sink into herself in her misery. She was whispering again.
"So many times I could have turned you in for so many things. But I never did." Her voice broke. "I stayed by your side. I was always by your side. What did I do? What did I do to deserve what you did to me?" She was in the middle of the shards of glass from the picture frame. A few of the pieces had pierced her feet, and blood seeped from under them, spreading across the carpet as Bellatrix continued to cry silently…
She was sitting in a café now, a few years later, in her early twenties, probably. She sat by the window, looking out at the bright sunshine, a solemn expression on her face. She looked at a clock on the wall, then out the window again. The bell over the doorway tinkled and a man walked in, walked over to where Bellatrix was sitting.
"Sorry I'm late, beautiful." He flashed her an unapologetic smile. Her expression did not lighten, and she looked at him with cold eyes.
"I was, um…taking care of some things."
Bellatrix pushed her chair back, stood up, yanked a diamond engagement ring off her finger, threw it down on the table in front of the man, whose boyish grin faded, and stalked out the door…
She was in a crowd of people now, not much older than before. They were all dressed in black cloaks, some with masks on their faces. She seemed lost in the crowd, shunted along as they moved around, a curious, excited expression on her face.
"That's him, I'm sure it is…" a voice said.
"Where? I can't see him."
"Move over. Let me see."
They were all talking at once, growing louder. Bellatrix spoke to no one, but her eyes lit up, growing brighter with curiosity and interest the more they talked. She strained to see around people and over the tops of heads.
"Silence." A commanding voice. All talking ceased abruptly. The crowd stopped moving. Voldemort stood in front of the crowd, a small circle of Death Eaters around him.
"Some of you know me, some of you have seen me before, and for some of you, this is your first encounter with Lord Voldemort. But no matter, I speak to all of you now. I invite you to join me, join me in a glorious crusade like none that has been seen before. I have powers like you have never seen, never imagined. Serve under me, and you will live to see a new world, a world in which wizards rule Muggles, Death Eaters rule wizards, and I will be at the top of it all, and you…all you gathered here today, you can have great power in the new hierarchy of the world. Serve me faithfully, and you will be rewarded beyond your grandest dreams. Join me…"
Bellatrix watched the man who would become her master with a captivated expression, her eyes brighter than ever before...
Bellatrix knocked on the door of a beautiful, sprawling mansion. The door opened, and a little blonde head poked around the corner, looking up at her. The boy was no older than five or six years old.
"Draco!" Bellatrix cried in delight, stepping into the house and sweeping the little boy into her arms.
"Look how big you're getting! Is Mommy home?"
Narcissa Malfoy came into the foyer from the sitting room. She shrieked in delight when she saw her sister. Bellatrix set Draco down and crossed to her sister's open arms, and the two embraced.
"It's been so long," Narcissa said. "Why haven't you come to visit sooner?"
"I've been busy, as you well know. I've worked with your husband a bit." She flashed Narcissa a smile, as if the two were schoolgirls discussing a crush. "He's really quite a catch. I always knew you'd do well. You always did have the guys running around in circles at Hogwarts, chasing after you."
Narcissa laughed. "Only because they knew they couldn't have you."
Bellatrix smiled back, scooped Draco up in her arms again, and followed her sister into the sitting room…
Bellatrix stood at the altar at her wedding ceremony, smiling across at her soon-to-be husband, Rodolphus Lestrange…
Voldemort sat at the head of a large table. Bellatrix sat just to his right, a haughty, self-important expression on her face, and the two appraised the other Death Eaters seated around the table, she and Voldemort seeming almost as equals. At least, the faces that looked back at her looked at her with great respect…
Bellatrix was in the Department of Mysteries, dueling Sirius, while other Death Eaters and Order members, as well as Harry and his friends, dueled around her. There was a furious look on her face, but he was laughing, taunting her. The curse hit him, the laughter died from his face, and he fell backwards, into the curtain, as a triumphant smile spread across Bellatrix's face…
"STOP!" A tremendous force hit Harry, knocking him off his feet as Bellatrix's spell sent him flying backwards. He hit a tree and slid to the floor, very conscious that reality had resumed around him. He hadn't meant to do Legilimency, certainly he'd hardly ever been able to do it before.
He'd hit his head on the tree, and now he felt lightheaded, disoriented, all the memories he'd just seen still whirring in his mind. He didn't notice Bellatrix rushing toward him until she was directly in front of him, towering above him, a twisted snarl on her face, her wand jammed into his neck.
"Who do you think you are, you little wretch?!"
That, Harry couldn't help thinking, as his head continued to swim, was a very good question.
As Harry stared up at her, her expression changed into a sneer.
"Did you like that last one, though? I remember it so clearly. The laughter dying from his face, the way he fell backwards, the way you screamed his name like a little child screaming for its mother."
Harry's mind seemed to clear instantly. He jumped up, pointing his wand at Bellatrix.
"At least when I cried for my mother as a baby, she didn't ignore me. Don't know that feeling, do you, Bellatrix?"
Her smile faltered. "You remember nothing. And then the Dark Lord killed your mother, so she didn't come to you then, when you cried, did she?"
Harry could feel the anger building in him.
"So who was he? The guy who cursed you and broke your heart? Didn't seem like you had too much luck in your love life. Your boyfriend curses you, you break off one engagement, and then you end up married to a loser, anyway. I almost feel sorry for you."
The snarl was back on her face. "Shut up. SHUT UP, LITTLE BOY. You know nothing of my life."
No one really knew…