A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

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Bellatrix was a woman who relished in the pain of others, their agonized screaming was her favorite kind of music-a symphony made by one person.

Her laughter has always been maniacal. She was a textbook example of a psychopath, feeling nothing but bloodthirst and anger and hate.

Her eyes were as dark as her soul and her greatest wish was to please her master, the man with whose beliefs she agreed wholeheartedly. She fought, killed and tortured in his name, hating anything and everything he did.

Voldemort used her, played with her as if she were a toy-and she let him. Bellatrix yearned for his attention like a starving man yearned for food, like a man in the desert yearned for water.

Bellatrix watched the Longbottoms twist on the ground, spittle flying from their mouths as they screamed and begged for mercy. Her crazy, sadistic laughter echoed in the room-a sound both beautiful and terrible.

"Mercy is not for Mudblood lovers." She spat, an angry scowl on her face. "Mercy is not for those who go against my Lord. I am not merciful."

And their screams started once again, terrible and loud until they stopped because their vocal cords could no longer create a sound, ruptured and raw as they were.

Bellatrix smirked in triumph, spitting on Frank and Alice Longbottom whose glassy, unfocused eyes stared someplace where Bellatrix could no longer reach them.

"Mercy is for fools and the weak." Bellatrix snarled, kicking Frank once in the stomach. Turning to her husband and Crouch, she added: "And I am neither."