Chapter 1

Introduction to an insane mind

Night shone its poisonous wrath through the dark veil of hair. Dark, hollow eyes raised to meet the twinkling fury that rose above her. It seemed silent, but she knew, she knew, that it was time, that He was truly furious now, that he might even be angry enough to kill her and her accomplice. All her sacrificed for Him had been in vain, all those years spent rotting away in that little hell hole had been nothing but a waste of time, she would have been better off relaxing with Lucius in his enormous manor, resting on a chaise lounge while sipping a mo –

A sound from behind. She whirled about, paranoid eyes searching through the darkness for someone who had come to take her away, someone who would take her without a single thought, a single care for her, someone who probably owed her his life ten times over, but was too damn much of a coward to see that it wasn't her fault, that she had been set up, time and again, that this was just a ruse by some people who wanted her position at His side….

The darkness parted to reveal a pale face in a long dark robe. She felt her breath escape in a shaky gasp. She couldn't fight this person. She could not risk hurting this person. Ever.

The pale, lipsticked mouth opened, trembling a little, for a single word to escape. "Come."

And she obeyed. There was nothing else for her to do, if she did not want this person to get hurt. He had chosen well. He always knew. It was for His service that she had dedicated her life to hell. And now He was about to kill her.

The darkness seemed to open up in front of her. She knew that she was going mad, but somehow it made her upcoming death much easier. After all, she would at least have the solace of not knowing the full extent of the crimes she had committed, the monster she had become. There would be some sort of a relief, an escape from the horrible truth that had led her to insanity.

Up ahead, a building blossomed from the darkness. Its pale marble walls seemed to glow amidst the gloom, and the pale, albino peacocks who strutted its walls only highlighted that fact. The figure in the black robe led her inside, through the dark corridors lit by nothing save an occasional flickering lamp, casting a dull light on the formerly elegant walls. This was something else she would be glad to escape – the perennial darkness. Hopefully, wherever she was going, there would a small amount of light.

There was nobody to be seen in the corridors, although she knew that they were all watching. They were hidden back in the darkness that they loved so much, unwilling to reveal themselves and be shown the wrong end of her wand. She was powerful, of course. Not as powerful as Him, but much more than any of the ones that scuttled like rats around this ancient home of one of the finest families. They were glorying in her downfall, she knew, gleefully enjoying the humiliation which she, far superior to any of them, had been put through, but she could not bring herself to care. Nothing else mattered now, now that she had failed. She had failed to protect him whom she loved most, she had failed to protect her very own flesh and blood from being harmed, she had failed to protect her beliefs from being perverted by the vile thing she called Master, and now, if she did not follow the commands given to her, she would fail to protect one of the only two people who mattered anymore.

The corridors opened out into a huge room, formerly filled with portraits and rare exhibitions of age-old and precious art, but now converted into a ritual room. A large, crude circle was drawn in the center, and a man, his pale hair practically glowing, was on his knees right at the center of it, bent forward in supplication. His quiet sobs could be heard across the enormous room.

A thing – for he could not be called a man – sat in the position of power in the room. His slit-like pupils were angled towards the sobbing, pitiful man who kneeled in the centre. As she entered, His eyes wandered towards her, and then His face rose into an expression that could only be identified as joy. The beautiful pureness of the fairest of one of the emotions, however, looked out of place on His revolting face, pulling His death-white skin even tighter over the bones, and flattening His snake-like nostrils to the point where they were almost invisible. His mouth opened, and a snake-like tongue darted out, licking His nonexistent lips eagerly, before calling out a single name coaxingly "Bella!"

Instantly, the previously empty room was filled with scores of forms in dark robes. Her own guide, who had stopped with a look akin to horror when she had seen the writhing man, now hurried forward towards the throne, carefully avoiding the ritual mark. Falling in front of the throne on one knee, she pulled the hood higher over her face as she waited for a command from her master.

The snake-like man, however, had no time for any of the others who sat on the edges, both wanting and fearing His attention. He was solely interested in one of the other sacrifices in the room. Spreading His arms wide, He stood up (the kneeling woman trembled in fear) and walked forward, gently bypassing the woman.

"You have made us wait for your company, Bella!" He called out joyfully. She shivered, not in fear, but in disgust. "But now that you grace us with your presence, I must admit that it was well worth the wait. You look lovelier than ever. The fresh air did you good."

He paused, as if waiting for a response, and when receiving none, He continued. "It is one of the greatest privileges in life to not only be awarded the purest of blood, but also such a lovely figure. The God's have indeed blessed you, dearest. You were lovely in your prime, but I must confess that there is something else, now, some sort of new light that illuminates your eyes and draws viewers to you like moths to a flame."

"At the time of escape from Azkaban, you bore all the scars that a person who has to spend time at that hellish hole has to. But now, they are hidden, and the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange is present with us again! Ladies and gentlemen who are present in the room, may I present to you the lovelier than ever, Mrs. Lestrange!"

His high voice rang around the room, and His followers nervously began to clap. The applause was thin and halfhearted, and quickly died out, but that seemed to satisfy Him, for He soon turned around and walked towards her again. "It is your very great fortune that you look so lovely tonight, Bella. Indeed, few people have the luck to look so enchanting when they die."

There was a single, collective gasp around the room, and every one leaned forward almost imperceptibly to hear her answer. She refused to give them the satisfaction, and continued to look straight ahead, back ramrod straight. She had always known it would come to that, but to hear the words spoken, to have it confirmed that she was really going to die – it had shaken her. She had no fear of death itself – it would be a welcome relief from this life – but of what would come after it, the part which no one knew. If she could have some confirmation, some sort of insurance, that she would meet that person, then she would fall on her knees now, and beg Him to kill her, but if there was any truth in all those religious books, she was going to hell as surely as Lucius was, and that person would not be in hell – he would be in heaven, with all his pureness and goodness, living the life which he deserved after death. The person she served had snatched that person's entire life away from him while she had sit back and done nothing, despite the fact that she loved him more than could be fathomed in the present state of mind. She had murdered and cursed, tortured people to insanity, plagued them until they begged her to kill them, but there was nothing more she regretted than having simply sat back and done nothing, eager to have more presence in His mind, to hold His interest the longest, to be the most precious to Him.

And where had all those favours, all those whispers about how she was His favourite, gone now? She was standing in a room, surrounded by mindless, pathetic people who were watching her like those savage barbarian Muggles saw their own kin being torn apart by lions at the Colosseum. She was standing here, watching her nephew tremble in fear as he saw his aunt and father being sentenced to death by the Dark Lord Himself.

The Dark Lord turned once more to face her, sweeping out His arms dramatically. Earlier, when she had been foolish and looking for power, this act would have thrilled her as a symbol of His power, but now it merely resembled the act of an old, decrepit fool who had a penchant for drama.

"We will not forget you, Bella and Lucius! You will remain in my memory forever as two of my most loyal servants, who unfortunately were led aside by a bit of… thoughtlessness on their part, shall I say? We will hold out your death ceremoniously, just as you deserve. It will befit the death of some of the Dark Lord's most valuable servants."

"My Lord," Lucius finally croaked, raising his silken blond head to look at the figure in the black robe. "My Lord, I beg of you -"

"Silencio," Lord Voldemort said coldly, pointing the thirteen and a half inch yew wand towards one of his former generals. Lucius fell silent as if struck. "We have told you, Lucius, that this is a great occasion. I will be greatly… displeased, if this was to be disrupted in any way. Now, of course you wouldn't be here to witness that, but I dare say that your wife and son -" here a great sweep with one arm towards where Draco cowered " – would not appreciate it."

Lord Voldemort swept around the room once more, looking at each of his follower's individually, but not looking at them at all. "We will begin the ritual as it always starts – with penance. Bella and Lucius, I must ask you to remember all the things that you regret in this life."

Lucius closed his eyes, tears rolling out from underneath them. She had no doubt in her mind that he would do exactly as told. The Dark Lord would undoubtedly use Legimency, and Lucius wasn't strong enough of an Occlumens to go up against him yet. She was, but she would perform the ritual anyway – not because the Dark Lord had demanded it of her, but because she needed to do it, to think of all the regrets in her life, and of all the mistakes that she had made. There were so many of them that she didn't know where to begin.

The torture of the Longbottom's would make it on her list. They were good people – purebloods even. It hadn't been their fault. She wouldn't even have done it, really, if Rodolphus and Rabastan hadn't been there, along with that rat-faced Crouch boy. They had pressurized her, and because of the recent turn of events, which had left her pretty shaky and out of character, she had done it so that they wouldn't get suspicious. She had regretted it every day since then – after hearing about it in the trial – and after she had escaped with His help, each day, a bouquet of the most beautiful chrysanthemums used to find their way to Alice Longbottom's bedside.

There were so many other muddled regrets in her mind. Faces of a pleading Muggle family, the mother clutching a small baby to her chest. Images of a white room, all sides white, and a purple potion in a small diamond vial. Images of a man falling through a tattered black veil, of a hand given, but not taken, of a smiling face against the dark outline of one of the windows of the Hogwart's Express. All of the memories she had thought she had forgotten, but which still plagued her mind like rats gnawing away at it, so much pain, so much suffering.

They were coming faster now, burning her eyelids. A long corridor, made of stone, and a face twisted with pain and rage, framed by dark hair. Laughter beside the lake, dark mornings spent inside alcoves, the shrill sound of Cissy laughing. Snape's face when she had insulted him, Dumbledore's face when they had killed him, so many faces, so many words. A faceless Muggle, pleading with her with his eyes because his tongue had been cut out. A dark girl, Muggleborn, holding her baby and pleading with them to let go, to please let the baby stay alive. A dark red canopy, the colour of blood, right above her eyes as someone was on top of her, grunting, and then inside her, seeing that blonde girl, the Hufflepuff, with that man's arm around her, him ignoring her, the walk through the Azkaban cells, hearing the screams of the people, and oh god please make it stop, this pain, and feeling the Dementor's, their suckling breath's on your skin, feeling their glee at having new victim's to torture, seeing his face inside that hellhole, filthy and dirty and tired and haunted and yet oh so beautiful, standing in front of the Dark Lord, Him telling her that her nephew was going to be sent on a suicide mission, a passed note, an apology that was not accepted although it should have been, whispered words of love that were ignored, a plea for her to come, again ignored, an argument, a fight, blood, blood, so much blood, blond pummeling black, her screams, begging him to stop, please stop, or else he would get hurt, oh god, pale. long hands playing the piano, then shifting to make room for her, a face, holding her's in his hands and telling her that he loved her, walking down the aisle in a white dress, seeing the face of her husband, closing her eyes every time she and her husband made love, imagining his face their instead, a black tattoo on a white arm, the sense of something wrong, of dying, dying, falling, of seeing him fall through the veil, of trying to go through herself, but failing, Lucius holding her back, murmuring quiet words of comfort before he was caught, of a pale blond face kissing her, even though she didn't want him to, and somebody stop this GOD.

She came back to reality with a gasp, her eyelids burning with unshed tears, her chin held up by a pair of long, spidery hands. Lord Voldemort's face looked back into her own, smugly satisfied. "How does it feel now, Bella?" he asked quietly, almost curiously. "How does it feel to think of all the mistakes you made? All the things that could have been much better if only you had made the right choice, performed the right action?"

He smiled humoulessly at her, the skin stretching tight over bones, and then abruptly turned, opening his arms wide and facing his entourage once again. "Lucius," he announced grandly. "Refuses to think of his mistakes. He is confident that he has lived his life the way it is meant to be lived."

There was a murmur of discontention from the crowd. Their sadistic souls had hoped for a little more torture, blood and screams then the simple, non-magic induced recollections that were taking place. The atmosphere was thick with dissatisfaction. Ever the perceptive one, Lord Voldemort sensed it at once.

"Worry not, my friends," he said delightedly, almost as if enjoying their predicament. Which, being the twisted, evil person he was, he probably was. "All will be done in due time. For now, I am afraid, we have another visitor.

He whirled, and Narcissa Malfoy fell back on her knees as if struck, her hood falling behind to reveal a pale, terrified, tear-stricken face. Lord Voldemort walked forward, dramatically placing each footstep as he approached the small figure in black robes at the base of his throne.

"Narcissa, Narcissa, Narcissa," he crooned softly, almost lovingly. "You have performed a great task for me today, haven't you? Ladies and gentlemen," he continued, turning to face the crowd once more. "When Narcissa approached me here today, I felt sure it was to plead for the life of two of her closest living relatives. However, she surprised me with her loyalty and determination when she insisted on fetching both of them to their eventual demise. It has been a tough day for her, as today will be the last she shall see of her husband and her sister, in this world at least, but her loyalty and bravery in face of this needed act was admirable, and today I am truly convinced that she is one of my most trustworthy followers!"

The crowd roared in approval, and Narcissa's eyes searched frantically for Bellatrix's. Bella's dark eyes met Narcissa's pale blue ones, and her heart tore apart at the anguish and need written large in them. Cissy was in so much pain, poor thing, her own sister. She had so much to contend for. Her husband and sister were dying today, but she had to keep her mouth shut and ask not for forgiveness, because if she did, then her son's head would join the ranks. There was fear written in those eyes, fear for her son's life, fear that Lucius and Bella wouldn't forgive her for betraying them like this, anguish for having to see her two closest relatives being insulted and demeaned in such a way, despite their high ranking in society.

It was humiliating for Bella as well to go through this mockery that the Dark Lord had set up, but she kept her mouth shut. 'Dromeda, Cissy, and Draco's lives depended upon it. She could do nothing for Lucius, but at least he would have the safety of knowing that his wife and son's heads wouldn't be burnt alongside his because of her fault. She would never let her sisters and nephew get hurt, even if one of them was married to a Mudblood. Great Salazar, she would even protect her Metamorphagus niece, and the werewolf husband of hers too. Family, she had been taught since her very first week, was the most important thing in the universe, and her sister's relations were hers too, even if they included a Mudblood, a werewolf, and two Metamorphagus'.

The Dark Lord was talking again, but she was barely listening to him, focusing instead on the thoughts of family and friends. It was much more comforting to think of them instead of what was going on presently.

Lord Voldemort was performing some sort of ritual now, saying ancient-sounding chants so fast that they were a blur to everyone's ears but Bella's. A red light streamed from his wand, binding itself like melting iron to Bella and Lucius, just as painful, but she refused to scream. The hot metal squeezed tighter into her skin, and she could hear Lucius' agonized screams, the Death Eaters' chilling, gleeful laughs, and Narcissa's heartbreaking sobbing, but she shut herself out, trying to remember, thinking, reminiscing…

There was only one way out of this hell. She would have to go back to the past, thinking of one of the most important things in her life. It was the only way that she could forget this pain and not humiliate herself as she approached her death.

So she thought about him…

The one she loved most…

Sirius Black.