A/N: Bellatrix-centric drabbly thing. Strange thing, but oh well.

I do not own Harry Potter and all other affliated characters.

WARRIOR

She wants to die with her wand in hand, mouth still open from spitting curses.

Remember, remember, little girl.

Hold your head high and don't let them see any tears.

This place is cold but she isn't going to feel it, because the ice around her heart far outweighs it.

Her lord will come and save her—she doesn't think so.

She knows so!

He is the greatest of them all.

He saved her from the life of a prim, overstuffed society lady at seventeen.

They've locked us up.

And they want to forget we even exist, don't they?

Mocking laughter slips from those filthy fingers—oh gods, are those hers?

Well, by god, she'll never ever ever let them forget, for that's what Bellatrix Black is best at.

Revenge.

I will be back.

I will claim my venegeance.

I want to be remembered.

She coils those fingers around her wand, relishing after fourteen years.

At last.

When she sees that Longbottom boy, she cannot stop the smile from spreading on her face.

And, oh, god bless him, he looks just like his parents!

I'm sure daddy and mummy are missing him in heaven right now, aren't they?

Nod yes, like a good boy.

Crucio.

She doesn't realize it's her wild laughter that's echoing around the room.

It's her personal soundtrack, and she feeds on the fear and the screams of a battlefield.

Maybe she is mad, after all.

Blood paints her forearms and her robe.

Lovely, lovely red all over her body.

She smiles, and it's a ghastly thing.

They are afraid of her, and she likes it.

She is that wicked witch, the one they all fear.

And then there are the flames, swooping down to eat at the unworthy.

London bridge is burning down, burning down, burning down…

Bodies piled high in the streets, eyes staring lifelessly.

As the town is consumed, she screams, "MORSMORDE!"

Her fellows echo her, and their master's mark is drawn into the sky in a blaze of fire.

This night is hers, in all its blood and savagery.

She never wants it to end.

Because the fight is what she lives for-sweat, tears, and curses.

She is Bellatrix, and she is the lady warrior, etched in white-hot metal in the night sky.