"Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: for the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed."
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In the seconds following the fall of his last and best lieutenant Voldemort felt something he had never felt before. Bellatrix Lestrange, his loving and most devoted servant had died. The only person he had remotely trusted. Sure, he had lost faith in her at times, her stupidity at the Malfoy's manor had set him back, but she was still the only person who really tried to make up for the errors she made. 'This is stupid,' thought Voldemort. 'She's just another who failed in her duty. And yet…' Voldemort began to feel immense anger at Bella's killer. Never before had he felt like this over a death, usually he was the one killing, and it unnerved him. He thought of Bella in the forest after he had killed Harry Potter. Bella's words came back to him, the passion with which she said them, 'My Lord'. Voldemort had had many followers both in the First and Second wars, but none had shown this feeling, this, and though he hated to even think of the word which Dumbledore had so often used, love. 'So what.' Voldemort thought. 'She loved me. It means nothing.' This realisation, however, made him think deeply about the feelings he had for Bellatrix. He had been able to forgive her, something that he never did lightly. Yes, but surely that was only because of her consistency the rest of the time? Voldemort remembered the last time he had spoken to Bella on her own. It had been to scold her about the break in of her Gringotts account. She was sorry, so sorry, and he had, like so many times before, not blamed her. He could not.
As he began to stir from his thoughts he finally realised that Dumbledore had been wrong. It was possible for Lord Voldemort to love, although now it seemed stupid. His love had just died. Unlike him, she had no horcrux to keep her clinging to life. Bellatrix Lestrange was no more. Voldemort allowed this anger to fill him, and prepared to kill his lover's executioner.
Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley. He would kill no more tonight, only her and Harry Potter. As he began to utter the incantation that would make him feel some relief he heard a shout. 'Protego!' Voldemort stared around for the source, and he saw Harry Potter materialise from his Invisibility Cloak. 'This is it.' And as he turned to fully face Harry,
his thoughts were on Bella,
the only person he had ever loved.
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