Chapter 1: And So the Lights Flicker

Everyone had always told me I was the best, and I had no trouble believing them. Even as a child I was nothing short of completely charming, with my appearance as well as my easily-moulded personality pleasing to what seemed like everyone. Being an only child, I had to compete with no one. Even my mother had died very soon after I was born, so my early life consisted of just me and my father.

I know of some who hate their fathers, but I was never one of those people. I loved my father thoroughly and without reserve, and although he raised me with every intent to follow in his footsteps as a Death Eater, I never truly felt pressured or as if it were a bad choice.

Other than my father, there was one other I cared about, and that was my best friend — Rodolphus Lestrange.

---

As a first-year, I stood waiting as all the other students were Sorted. I knew a few faces, and a couple names. I had been introduced to all the pureblood children my age, so I recognised Rodolphus as he went to be Sorted.

For some people, the hat barely had to touch their head for it to know where to place them. For others, there was a short wait. But none had to wait as long as Rodolphus. I noticed that when the hat was first placed on his head, he looked startled for a moment, but then it was as though his face were wiped clean. All I knew was that it took at least twice as long for him as it did everyone else.

I was one whose head the hat barely had to touch. I was a Slytherin, completely.

I found myself seated next to the Lestrange boy, the one I figured did not belong at this table.

"Where did it try to Sort you?" I asked quietly, when the table's attention was elsewhere.

His large brown eyes grew even larger, and he turned his gaze slowly on me.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sorting Hat — it took so long that I thought that you had to force it to put you here or something. I was just wondering where it thought you belonged." For once all my superiority seemed like it was gone and his face changed from hostile to hopeless, just for a moment, until he composed himself.

"I belong here," he told me firmly.

"You're lying," I answered.

"I know," he whispered after a long pause.

That was my first impression of Rodolphus Lestrange. He intrigued me from that moment forward, though, because I knew he was different.

---

"Rodolphus!" I called as I always did, walking into his house.

"For a pureblood, you're very uncouth," a silky voice responded.

I looked towards the stairs, and, sure enough, there was Bellatrix. Her black robes made her pale skin look even more so, and her fingers looked as though they had a delicate grip on her wand, though I knew no one could defeat her in a duel. She walked up to me slowly, giving the appearance of floating instead of walking.

"Ah, Bella, always so kind. Not doing the Master's bidding at the moment?"

"I see you're not, either. Aren't you usually sleeping with Muggle women at times like this as a prelude to murdering them?"

"I suppose I am," I answered easily.

"Yes, well, with your appearance it's probably a simple job, is it not?"

"Are you saying I'm gorgeous, my dear Bella? …Or are red eyes more your type?" I quickly deflected her curse, laughing. "Remember when you were going to marry me instead of Rodolphus? Remember how your family wanted you to?"

"But of course you refused."

"Feeling rejected?… But, honestly, Rodolphus was in love with you: I had to refuse."

Her expression hadn't changed whatsoever from her bored expression. "Oh, I know," she answered. "It's rather revolting, isn't it?"

"You distracted me — where is he?"

"His study — which is rather ill-named if you ask me, since it isn't as though he ever works; he just seems to read."

"You're a terribly supportive wife, aren't you?"

"If you don't like the way I treat him, then perhaps you should've married him instead."

"Always so hilarious, Bella." I began running up the stairs two at a time, and as I passed her I gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, purely to annoy her. It seemed to work — I felt a spell just miss me. "You should take this time to work on your aim!" I called, knowing that later I would suffer dearly for my mockery.

I didn't know why I always acted like that in front of her, when in truth I hated her more than anyone in the world. Perhaps it was because I always tried to escape, and treating her as though I liked her almost made me forget the reason for my depthless hatred.

I opened a heavy wooden door, but did not go in at first. Something didn't feel right.

"Rod?" I called.

There was no answer.

It looked wrong. The room was much darker than usual; the only light came in through the window, where the heavy black shades were pulled apart. The small desk where Rodolphus usually sat with a book was empty.

The room had an ominous feel. Usually it seemed a fairly friendly room, for it was the only place Rodolphus could really be himself; he belonged anywhere he was surrounded by books.

I fumbled for a light, wondering if anything would be there — or, indeed, if I truly wanted to see it.

I gasped and fell to my knees in the corner — where the body was lying. I examined it just enough to confirm that he was truly dead. There were no markings on it, and I knew it had to have been the Killing Curse.

Then all the logical thoughts flew from my mind. This was my best friend — he was truly my only real friend. And now he was lying here, dead.

Why? Who had killed him? Did Bellatrix know?

Did Bellatrix do it?

No, I didn't believe that. "Who killed you, Rod?" I asked softly.

I stared at him, knowing it would be perhaps the last time I saw him.

He looked so normal. His eyes were lightly closed, and his body was in such as normal position, as if he laid himself down. His hair fell partially in front of his eyelids, as I had seen it so many times before. That was when I looked away, closing my eyes at the same time, as though looking at a different area of the room weren't enough.

First my father, and now my best friend. Things always went wrong for me.

When my father had died, I was filled with revenge. I felt the same feeling build up inside me again. It was a burning, desperate feeling, one that I knew from experience wouldn't go away until I had murdered someone.

"I'll find who killed you, Rodolphus — and I'll kill them for you."

Rodolphus had never approved of revenge, but I didn't think of that. All I knew was that I wanted someone to suffer for killing the only person I had left.

"I see that you found my husband. I thought you'd want to see him before I cleared the body."

"You knew? You knew this whole time?"

"Of course, Evan."

"You killed him, didn't you?" I was up in an instant, and I had my wand securely in my hand. Then it was at her throat. "Answer me!"

Her eyes looked bored. "Crucio!" she said, and it sounded like a response.

No one's Cruciatus Curse held more power than Bellatrix's. The pain never lessened, and a scream tore out of my throat. And yet something about the physical pain was bliss, because it made me forget everything.

I felt the curse lift, and I lay panting.

"Don't you dare accuse me of murdering my husband, Evan. It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to you." I heard her footsteps retreat to the door.

"Oh — by the way — I think my aim's improved, don't you?"

---

"You're such a baby," Bellatrix sighed.

I didn't feel the need to look up from where I was sitting against the wall outside the library. My entire body felt weak from the curse, and I really had no desire to look into the eyes of the one who'd done it to me.

"The body's gone, so you can go back in now. I don't really know why you want to, but of course it's no concern of mine."

Her voice was so bored, indifferent. I felt a familiar feeling of rage well up inside me. It reminded me of the time my father had died.

---

Rodolphus and I were fourteen at the time and in our fourth year. His brother Rabastan was in his seventh year. The three of us were called to Dumbledore's office in the middle of the day.

I remember what was happening before so clearly. We were in Charms, and we were practising the Summoning Charm.

"What's even the point of Charms class?" Rodolphus muttered under his breath as he made object after object fly across the room while the majority of the class was still struggling with wand movements.

"Believe it or not, not everyone's a genius, Rod." But my motions were lazy as well, because I got things nearly as quickly as he did.

"Speaking of which—"

"'Speaking of which?'" I laughed. "God, you can be so arrogant."

"No — this is important," he protested. "Though, I suppose I am rather arrogant," he added. "I was researching yesterday—"

"So unusual."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am a nerd. Anyway, Rosier's the name of a fallen angel — the angel of love and seduction," he told me. "This angel was extraordinarily beautiful, but, of course, evil."

"You found this interesting?"

"Isn't it perfect?"

"Are you saying it fits me?"

"I'm saying it fits your image, doesn't it?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Always."

I grinned. There was always something so natural about being with Rodolphus. I could always forget that I was going to be a Death Eater around him — could forget that I wasn't normal. Everything seemed to fall into place with him.

I found myself staring at him. Though the Lestranges were complete purebloods, of the most excellent lineage, of all the pureblood families, they looked the least like it. His hair was a nondescript brown, not too dark or light. It was long, too, and frequently fell in front of his eyes. His skin was tan from our Quidditch practises, and the only thing that made him stick out was the fact that he was very tall, towering above the rest of us, even me, and I was far above average.

I was considered the best-looking. I had dark red hair always perfectly in place. My skin was pale — regardless of the amount of time I spent outside — and my eyes were the strangest colour. They were bright blue, but there were hints of green in them — the colour was usually teal. People said I had a presence, and my father said I was so popular because I could instinctively mould my personality to match someone else's. I supposed that was true, since I never truly felt like I was my own person.

Except with Rodolphus.

I didn't notice that I was staring at him until the faintest blush coloured his cheeks. I had never seen him blush before, and my eyes snapped to his. They seemed larger than usual.

"Why are you staring at me? Tired of looking at your own reflection?" Next thing I knew, Rodolphus Summoned a mirror and handed it to me. "You're a fallen angel, after all. Shouldn't you only care about yourself?"

I laughed. "If I'm a fallen angel, what're you? A normal angel?"

"Why wouldn't I be a fallen angel too?"

"You really think God's going to exile you out of heaven?"

"If He sent you out, you think I wouldn't go too?"

My heart seemed to jerk a little. Why did he torment me with responses like that? "You're a freak, Rod. You would really leave? Just because I wasn't there?"

He laughed. "Evan, you take everything too seriously. You're not nearly as evil as your fallen angel counterpart."

"Maybe you think so," I muttered.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the door burst open and a girl gave a message to the Professor.

"Evan Rosier, Rodolphus Lestrange — you need to see Professor Dumbledore immediately."

We stared at each other and shrugged. "At least we get out of class," Rodolphus muttered, smirking. It was a bit of a relief to be done with that topic of conversation. Talking about things like that made me… anxious.

In Dumbledore's office, we were seated with Rabastan.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm sorry to inform you that both of your fathers have… died," Dumbledore told us, staring kindly into our faces.

"My father? He's dead?"

I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. My father — my wonderful father. He had been so kind to me, such a great man. He had raised me on his own and taught me everything I knew.

I stared blankly at the dazzlingly happy expression of Rodolphus's face, but it was gone an instant later. I went even colder; it must have been nice for Rodolphus to hate his father. But my father… No, I didn't want to think of him.

A strange feeling moved inside me. Was it tears? Did I feel like crying? I didn't know if that was it — I couldn't remember crying ever.

Then I felt an arm around my shoulders, and I didn't need to look up to know it was my best friend. "Hey, I'm sorry Evan, really. Your dad was great."

"Did they both die at the same time?" Rodolphus asked, and I easily picked up the suspicion in his voice.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered simply, and I knew he was also confirming his answer that our fathers had died on Death Eater business.

I felt heavy steps and the door slam. Rabastan had to be torn as well — as much as Rodolphus hated his father, Rabastan loved him.

"I'll leave you two," Dumbledore offered, and I heard the footsteps retreat in a different direction.

"You okay, Evan?"

"Yeah, sure," I answered, and looked up. His large eyes were etched with concern, their appearance making my heart lurch again. I looked away.

"I loved my father. He was the greatest father in the world."

"I know."

"I'll kill them — I'll kill whoever did this," I said simply. Death was such a normal solution for me at the time.

"Evan — no. Your father wouldn't want that."

The sadness was replaced with a thirst for revenge. Anger built up inside me where the sadness had been. "Someone took my father from me, and I'll take his life for it."

"Evan—"

"Rod, I need this. Don't say that."

"Someday you won't want it — I know you, Evan."

"Well, aren't I a fallen angel? Maybe I really am more evil than you thought."

---

"God, snap out of it," Bellatrix called, kicking me a little with her foot. "Do you need me to curse you again?"

I pulled myself out of my memories, and at the same time I tried to spring to my feet without remembering that I was still a little weak. I grasped the doorframe for support, feeling like I was going to collapse for a moment; the world spun.

"Don't bother to come and talk to me again once you've searched that room. I don't care, and I don't want to see you—"

"You really don't care, do you?"

"About Rodolphus?"

"About your husband," I clarified.

"I might be married to him, but he's nothing to me. He's never been important."

"He was in love with you."

"So?" That indifferent, infuriating voice was back. How could she be so terrible? She had everything — she had Rodolphus! And yet she didn't care — not the tiniest bit.

"So he was important—"

"To you."

"Yes, he was. My best friend."

"That's all?"

An image flashed in my mind. His calm, large eyes, partially obscured by his frame of hair. Even thought it wasn't real, my heart lurched.

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking it's been a secret, Evan… Oh, and by the way, this book was found next to him. I thought you might want to see. Didn't you lend this to him?"

I walked into the library silently, and I let the book fall open. The page that came up was stained with blood.

I had given him that book. I found it at an old Muggle book store that some woman I was to kill dragged me along to.

Fallen Angels — it was as though I couldn't escape them.

This wasn't Rodolphus's blood — there hadn't been a cut on him. Perhaps there had been a duel? Perhaps—

Then I saw it. In the corner, next to the angel "Rosier" that was the reason I had purchased the book, there was an "Im" written in his hand, and yet it wasn't his normal script. It looked rushed, as though he had been writing it with no time. I stared at it. What did it all mean?

Who had done it? Who did I have to kill?