AN: As stated, written for alchemyfreak42, whose birthday is today. Send them your regards!
Warnings: Slight language, (implied) character death.
Disclaimer: Don't own, of course.
The jet of light blasted forwards like a bullet; a streaming, glowing bearer of ruination, aimed directly for her heart. She knew before it landed that it would be the end of her, that of all those curses sent her way over the years, that this one would be the one to do her in for good. The knowledge that this was it, that she was going to die instilled a primal fear in her. Despite that, she laughed, throwing her head back. She knew that to the few still alive that had witnessed her cousin's death, it would be like looking into the past, as the energy struck her, paralyzing her. Killing her.
Around her, the air turned cold and her body became numb to the touch of life. Her heart jolted to a stop and her vision greyed at the edges; against her will, she fell backwards, her last glimpse of the world as she knew it before her passing of the woman that had killed her, her face concreted in righteous fury, and of the crowd around her, their hollow cheering for her demise an empty echo in her ears.
And thus, Bellatrix Lestrange died.
Before her was a set of doors. A large pair that would rival those in Hogwarts, though these would take the gold for artistic appeal. They were carved with symbols and pictures that seemed familiar to her, though she couldn't place where it was she had seen them.
"Welcome, to my home."
'No, it couldn't be–'
A cold, mirthful laugh. "Oh, but it is, Bella. Isn't it wonderful, meeting again?"
Slowly, Death Eater turned around, eyes landing on a large stone gate, inscribed with symbols irritatingly familiar to her from half-forgotten Ancient Runes classes, similar in design to the one behind her. The large entrenched swirls led down to the foot of the doors, and following it with her eyes, she found that Sirius was absent from– From wherever she currently was, in a realm she had never heard of before, where almost everything she could see shone at her with a pure colourless light.
Instead, there sat a purely white being, only visible because it was silhouetted against the portal behind it. All she could make out of its features was its grin, a wide, toothy thing that unnerved her unlike anything before. It seemed knowing, as though it had seen thousands before her and would see many more after. As though nothing she could do would ever surprise it, and no matter how hard she struggled, she would lose.
As the thought crossed her mind, its smile widened, revealing tombstone teeth.
"Do you know where you are?" it asked in a timeless voice, making her wonder how she had mistaken it for Sirius. It could have been a young boy or an aged woman, and the witch would never know.
Despite the calm tone, Bellatrix sensed an insult hidden behind its words, triggering a well-honed defensive reaction. She turned her nose up at it, reached for her wand and spat, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
The smirk turned condescending as it lazily replied, "In fact I do."
Snarling, the Death Eater whipped out her wand...
...Only to realize that it was not with her. Her eyes widened in alarm and she patted herself down, desperately searching for her weapon. She turned on the odd creature, teeth bared in anger. "Where is it? Where is my wand?"
"With your body, of course." Bellatrix curled her hands into fists; fighting without magic was a Muggle tactic, but she was more than willing to resort to the dirtier methods when it became necessary for her Lord. "Oh? Didn't you know? You died."
Slowly, the gates opened behind the being, the doors somehow passing by the silhouette without hitting it. Within the revealed blackness, a single large eye opened, focused on something behind the witch, who gasped at its unexpected appearance. Thin arms reached out from the darkness, tightly grasping onto her body and pulled her forward, into the emptiness. No matter how much she struggled against the hands, they refused to let her go.
"Goodbye," the being cheerfully called. "Try harder next time; I have your master to attend to next."
"NO!" the woman screeched. "KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HIM!"
The Gate closed without preamble, the sound echoing in the empty space, and the Truth turned around, meeting the back of the most infamous man of England's twentieth century, and beyond him was his Gate; his blank, painfully fractured Gate.
"Thomas Marvolo Riddle. What did I tell you of the dangers of splitting your soul?"