A/N: I imagine that though Bellatrix is pure evil, she didn't have to start that way. Her becoming a death eater may have just exacerbated it. So this fic is about Bella first getting the mark and then going on her first death eater raid. RxR. FxF.

Submission for:

Hogwarts Fair 2014 Challenge/Competition: Dunk-the-Death Eater. Death-Eater - Bellatrix (my fav!) (Word count: 896)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

She ran the sponge over the arm back and forth, up and down, scrubbing as hard as she could, but it wouldn't go away. No matter how clean she tried to be, that black mark would show through the white suds on her arm. Then she would look at it, stare at it, effectively getting lost in black holes of the skull's orbs, their depths pulling her under and she would shudder. And then she would continue scrubbing with no results.

She had stolen away from her home to attend the meeting and if it hadn't been for Dromeda seeing her leave, she wouldn't have had these doubts. Stupid Dromeda with her caring words, 'Just don't do anything you'll regret, Bella,' for she knew she couldn't stop her sister, and Bellatrix had still gone. She stood before the man with the silver tongue and held her arm out dutifully. She bit back the scream that begged to fly from her throat as the mark was burned in her skin. She swallowed the bile that rose when she looked down on it and realized there was no going back. As soon as she had gotten back, she jumped into the bathtub. She felt dirty and scrubbing wasn't working. She could still see it and it could still see her.

In the few days that followed, she wore long-sleeved dresses, always making sure to never expose her left arm too much. She was careful not let it brush against anyone or anything. She glanced nervously about, paranoid that someone knew of her cursed appendage, and Dromeda's constant worried looks didn't help much either.

She was lying in bed, her long sleeve dress thrown off in favour of a light nightgown. The offending limb was thrown to one side as from her body as possible. She was trying to forget that it was there, that she even had a left arm, but she found her gaze constantly drifting back to it.

She loved being the oldest sister, which led to a love of power and being in control. She loved knowledge of all kinds, the dark arts intriguing her more than the others because its mystery and great potential to do all things imagined. She was sharp with persons and demanded her way for she believed that her way was the true way. She was callous for she did not suffer fools lightly or forgive mistakes easily. She was harsh for she saw the logic rather than the emotion in making decisions, even if that meant someone's death. Did all those things equal enough to have actually become a Death Eater? Should she have listened to the handsome Tom Riddle who promised her the world under his command, with her on his right?

Her arm burned and she clutched it to her chest in pain. This was the first this had happened and she knew what it meant. She sprung to her feet like a cat, trying to ignoring the squirming feeling under her skin as she threw on something to wear. This time when she left, she made sure there was no Dromeda to give her knowing looks.

She appeared on the outskirts of a small town amidst the others like herself. Avery, who would be overseeing her and other new recruits, stood at the front of the group and explained the situation: run in there, kill the muggles, leave.

Bellatrix hated muggles, just like her family, and agreed that were lower than her and all wizards. She had never actively held a hatred against them but this would be her first time killing one. She walked forward, the others behind her and the other recruits. This was their 'initiation', the older ones merely there as babysitters.

They blasted down the door to the first home and Avery pushed her through first. In front of her were three cowering muggles, a woman and her two children. A sneer fell on Bellatrix's face. She couldn't deny the feeling she got when she saw muggles - a feeling of disgust and loathing, like seeing a cockroach. Without thinking, her wand shot out towards them, the curse that would become her trademark flowing past her lips. The evil energy engulfed each one, turning them into bouncing ragdolls. Her cackling laughter filled the air, drowning out their horrid screams. She smiled gleefully at the scene before her and she was sure she looked like a madwoman but she did not care. She lost herself in the moment.

She was back in the bathtub that night, her heart still racing from the adrenaline rush and all the visions replaying in her mind. In total, she had tortured 10 muggles and killed 5, not all the same ones. She ran the sponge across her body and then moved to her arms but stopped.

A large splash of blood had seeped through her dress' sleeves and coated her arm. The red colour completely masked the horrid mark beneath it, the snake seemingly satiated with a fresh meal. She scrubbed the blood away but it had somehow quelled the gnawing feeling within her upon seeing her mark since she had gotten it. Now it showed power and would instil fear in her victims and not her. She smiled to herself, the first true one in a long time. She could get use to this kind of life.