Dark Lady
She had always heard of the young, charismatic man who called himself Voldemort. He had only just surfaced into the public consciousness at about the time of her birth, unknown before then. He was not foreign, not with his flawless mastery of the English language. No, he came from Britain, probably near the south end of London.
Excited, the young girl could hardly contain herself. She was sixteen, though her dark and foreboding aura implied that she was much older. Moreover, she had such haunting good looks, her features so sharply defined, that one could hardly believe her to be less than twenty. And soon, she would meet Lord Voldemort.
The excitement mounted, her eyes sparkled brightly with purpose and clarity. This young leader, this Voldemort, he had taken up the mantle of Grindelwald. He was fighting for wizard supremacy. He wanted to rid the world of the Muggles, to stop the muddying of wizard's blood. Such noble ideals were always to be mocked and ridiculed by those unfortunates who did not see the value of their own blood, of the beauty that the pure blood held.
She stepped outside, into the cold, dark night. Looking around to ensure she was not being watched, she turned on the spot and vanished. The practice had paid off; she had not gone and splinched herself with the illegal Apparition. Walking cautiously, she saw the hillside in the distance, a green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth floating high above. She was practically floating above the snow, feeling more and more energised the closer she was to the hill. How she'd love to tell that young twerp Lucius about becoming a Death Eater when second term started.
At the foot of the hill, the snow was deepest. Throwing caution to the wind, she waved her wand, causing flames to engulf the snow and melt it. She looked up; he was standing there, expectantly, quite alone. He was bald, his skin white as plaster. She looked into his eyes; it was like looking into deep pools of crimson blood. He looked as if his nose had been gradually receding into his face; it was almost flat.
'You have arrived," he said, his voice high and faintly chilling. He looked down at her. Her black hair fell to her back. Her heavy-lidded eyes glowed with manic curiosity. "I assume you wish to join the ranks of my followers."
"Yes, Master," she whispered, falling to her knees. "It is my fondest wish, my dearest hope. Please."
"Lord Voldemort will require that you prove yourself, young lady."
"Anything you wish, Master," she said sincerely. "I'll do anything you ask of me."
"You see the village down in the valley, yes? You will earn your place if you go down there and kill a family tonight. Any family will do, you must only go down and do it. Will you do this for Lord Voldemort?"
"Of course! I will do it right now, my Lord!" she cried out, overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a Death Eater.
"Then go, Bellatrix. Do this favour for me and you will be admitted into the ranks of my Death Eaters."
"Thank you, Master!" she exclaimed before rising to commence the work that was to be her life's joy.