There was a moment when I believed that everything would be okay. There was a moment when I thought that we could have it all, that we could reach up past the stars our family idolizes and touch the burning flame of perfection. For a moment, I closed my eyes and wished that we would make it through unscathed. Prayed that our luck would not run dry, not here, when we needed it most. For a moment, I believed in miracles. I needed to. I cast the doubt and fear from my mind and let myself believe that we would be okay. I thought that the path of failure would not appear for us – not again, not now. Maybe not ever. We had come so far and endured so much – to much, to fail again, at the time when it mattered most.
But my beautiful sister fell with victory on her lips and a promise in her heart. She saw the hopelessness and felt her mouth dry with defeat, saw that there was no way that we would come through. So she let down her defenses and welcomed death with open arms, laughing as she died because she would not let herself be taken unless she called the shots. My sister always liked the last word. And she would rather it be said before her Lord fell. Bellatrix never wanted to live to see destruction. She reviled in glory and bathed in opulence; the blaze of power that ran through her veins was to strong for her to stomach defeat. And proud as she was, Bella always knew when she – or, in this case, her cause – had been defeated. She could not go on without her master, and so she choose to follow him – or, rather, proceed him – into oblivion. She always had good timing.
I stood on the sidelines, hidden behind a cloak of sadness and pain, and watched as the Dark Lord fell. I shed not a tear for him, although my face was still wet with the legacy of my sister. I had given up of the Dark Lord a long time ago. It was very clear that he no longer held the power to shoot us up into the sky where we belonged. I cared not for that white-faced snake of a man who dealt in false promises and empty hands. I had no use for mediocrity. I alone of my sisters strived for pure perfection.
I watched as chaos ensued, and I watched as the remaining Death Eaters fell. Somehow, my husband appeared at my side. It was not that I loved him, though I cared for him and his son deeply. Alone, I was more powerful, more complete. My family depleted me, somehow. Ant yet loyalty was a quality I learned very young. And I had love them, once, when my heart was not as frozen, more smile not as cold. Once – not long ago – they had been my life.
Now with the smoke and fervor of a battle almost over all around me I felt something akin to peace. I watched tears and laughter and smiles and hope. I watched as dreams were shattered and solace was found. I was not a child; I was almost forty-five years old. but I felt something stir within me that I had not felt for a very long time. Hope.
Maybe there was a place for me after all.