Author's Notes:

Thanks to voldymort for being a great beta! This fic will have three chapters. PLEASE review!

Chapter 1: A Moment in Time

I didn't know where I was, and that frightened me more than I would ever have admitted.

How did I get here? I wondered, my vision finally clearing. I still felt lightheaded, but I looked around, and I was in the midst of a field. It was grassy and beautiful, but strange nonetheless. The grass seemed unnaturally green and seemed to have an otherworldly beauty.

Where's my wand? I looked around again, and this time spotted my wand and a satchel on top of a bush a metre or two away. I stumbled to my feet, still feeling a bit dizzy. I grasped my wand and sunk back to the ground, not bothering to pick up the bag as well. Breathing deeply, I Summoned it silently.

It felt heavy, and I lifted the flap and started taking items out.

First there was a book. The cover was blood-red, but there was no writing anywhere on it. I looked to make sure it had writing inside it, then set it down to look at the rest of the contents. There was also a folded map, and as I looked at it, I realised it was completely ordinary

By this time I was starting to feel ridiculous. A book with no title and an ordinary map. How was that supposed to help? I felt ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes at myself but pulled out the last object.

It looked like a Time-Turner. It was a small silver hourglass hanging from a long chain. I wanted to flip the hourglass just to see if it really was, but I decided not to.

Well, why not? I thought just a moment later. I might as well try it out. Just going back one hour really wouldn't make a difference, after all… Then I might figure out how I got into this damn field.

I put the chain around my neck and turned the hourglass just once. I waited impatiently, but nothing happened.

So it's not a Time-Turner… That's strange. I guess it could just be a normal hourglass.

Shrugging and unwilling to devote much more time to the mystery, I put aside the empty bag and picked the book back up. Flipping past the cover, I looked at the first page and found the title I hadn't bothered to look for.

It was some sort of history of the Death Eaters, apparently. There were chapters about the Dark Lord, and all about the best spells to use for what. I didn't know why they even bothered to put anything besides the Unforgivables in there.

I continued leafing through the book in disgust, and when I got about half-way through, I found a scrap of parchment. I opened it and began to read.

Rodolphus,

I know you said you don't want to be a Death Eater, but you're wrong. You know that it doesn't matter whether you want to or not. You must

You have very little time to become a Death Eater and prove your loyalty. If you don't quickly enough, you will be killed.

If you had just agreed in the first place, this wouldn't be happening.

Rabastan

I crushed the note in my hand as I felt my anger rise to the boiling point. Why was it that just because I was part of the bloody Lestrange family that I had to become a Death Eater? I didn't want to, and I never had! I hated Mudbloods – no denying that – but I wasn't about to devote my life to killing them.

Now I remembered what happened before I woke up in this field. Rabastan and I had fought, and I had left the house, telling him I wouldn't be coming back. He'd shouted after me that I didn't have a choice.

He was right.

Now, it was either that, or death.

Sighing, I slung the satchel over my shoulder, forcing my mind to turn away from that topic and just leave this field that now seemed too bright, too airy, too beautiful.

I walked through a small group of trees, admiring the stately dignity they had. But then something in the sky up ahead caught my eye.

I rushed forward, needing to see it clearly. Because, from here, it look so familiar; I had a horrible feeling I knew what it was.

Out in the open, it burned into my eyes. It was bright, bright green, and I knew exactly what the symbol was. I had seen it glowing on my brother's arm for years. It was the Dark Mark.

It was directly over a small house, a whitewashed cottage with flowers blooming in the front and giving every appearance of happiness. Unable to stop myself, I began to walk forward to see what horrors the inside held.

At first, nothing seemed strange. The door entered right into a little kitchen. I kept walking through the house, feeling panicked at what I might see.

In the living room were the bodies. There was a beautiful woman. She had long, black hair, black eyes, and pale skin. Her eyes were open even in death, and there was a look of terror on her face. The same expression, it seemed, as the three other people in the room. In her arms was a small girl, with the same colour hair. She was so young – just a toddler.

To her right was a tall man, presumably her husband. I barely looked at him, unable to stay much longer in a room holding so much death. And last was a little boy, older than his sister. His hair was dark red, matching his father's.

My eyes found the woman's again, and I felt a strong – but illogical – surge of hatred for whoever had done it. There had been no need…

I turned away suddenly, too cowardly to stare anymore. They had obviously been hit by the Killing Curse. I wandered over to the mantel and the still-lit fire.

I sighed, unwilling to stop myself from examining the photos. There were two of them, and both contained the whole family. One seemed to be a candid shot. They were all laughing, and I could tell that it hadn't been staged.

They were Muggles. The motionless photos proved it, but it was obvious even before that. Why else would the Dark Lord kill them?

I remembered that I was supposed to hate Muggles too. But as I looked at the photo, I couldn't help but wish I had a family like that. That I was happy, carefree, laughing. That my brother hadn't sent me off on a suicide mission, consisting of unknown horrors.

I was again struck with the knowledge that I wasn't meant to be a Death Eater. If I had been, I could have forgiven this. I would have been able to laugh, maybe set fire to the house. But, strangely, I couldn't.

I had this terribly cold feeling despite the nearness of the fire, and I felt like I would be sick. I sunk to the ground, and covered my face with my hands, unable to continue looking.

Closing my eyes wasn't enough, not when I knew what was behind me. So I lurched suddenly to my feet and ran out of the house, unwilling to stay in a place that held so much death any longer. I spared one last glance behind me, but again felt the sickening horror at the thought of the Dark Lord killing those Muggles.

But as I was walking quickly away from the field and the house, I tried to bring myself to stop feeling so panicked.

I heard a small whistling noise coming from within my bag. I opened it swiftly, curious as to what the noise was.

It was the hourglass. The sand seemed to be glowing and it spun a few times, so rapidly it became a blur.

The next moment I was in the same place, but the early morning light was coming from overhead, so I knew it was a different time.

My heart was pounding. I had travelled back in time, and I knew that somehow this was Rabastan's doing.

The Time-Turner, which it decidedly was, (Rabastan most definitely tricked me into thinking it was just an hourglass) hadn't worked for me. Perhaps only a few could use it.

I looked around and saw the same house, this time illuminated by sunlight. I saw other houses as well and knew it must be some sort of village.

I looked up involuntarily. No Dark Mark. I couldn't help but sigh in relief.

My eyes gravitated to the area behind the whitewashed house, because I thought I saw someone moving. I was about to walk forward when I remembered that I was still wearing robes, and that I wouldn't fit into a Muggle setting whatsoever.

I stepped back into the surrounding forest and looked into my satchel again. I couldn't bring myself to be surprised as I pulled out some ordinary Muggle clothes. There were black pants and a plain, brown, button-down shirt. I changed quickly, unreasonably wanting to go back to the tiny village.

I ran back through the trees eagerly. As I stepped out, I saw the same Muggle woman I had seen dead only moments ago. She was hanging clothes on a rope suspended between trees to dry. I was compelled to move forward and speak to her, this woman whose fate was sealed.

She looked up when I approached her and smiled, obviously friendly.

"I haven't seen you around," she said softly, her movements fluid as she quickly continued her domestic activity.

"No," I answered, my voice cracking with anxiety. "I'm just passing through."

"Oh, that's nice. Can I ask your name?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange," I answered, not bothering to lie.

"I'm Isabelle Schwarz," she smiled, putting out her hand for me to shake.

I felt my expression soften as I took her hand in my own in such a friendly yet unfamiliar gesture.

"So where are you going?" she asked easily.

"Taking a train to London," I lied.

"Oh, are you going on the station in town?" She apparently assumed I knew where I was.

"Yes, of course."

"The morning train?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry I'm bothering you with so many questions. My husband says I talk too much." Her smile was still friendly, though.

I laughed softly, the noise sounding strange to my ears. "No, actually, I'm not leaving until five tonight."

She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but she only asked one more, "Really? May I ask what you're doing until then?"

I blinked and had no idea what to answer. But I forced myself to smile and say, "I allowed myself a lot more time than I needed, it seems. I guess I'll just wander around town for a while. My brother always says that I get to places too early… and here's obvious proof that he's right." Not that Rabastan had ever said anything of the sort, but it sounded good.

Her warm black eyes grew large when she heard that. She was a motherly woman, but far too trusting, it seemed. "Well, you'll have to visit us for a bit, okay?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I protested, but what I really wanted was to sit down and speak with her and her family, and make sure they didn't get killed. But, then again, I could have been years in the past for all I knew.

Her face became stern. "You come in now, all right? Have you had breakfast? We already have, but if you want anything I will be more than happy to–"

"No, I'm fine. But I wouldn't mind talking a bit," I added, feeling strangely reckless.

Just then, her husband appeared at the back door. "Belle, are–" he broke off, staring at me.

"John, this is Rodolphus. He's taking the train, but not until five tonight." She gave him a look that said plainly that he should invite me in. I pretended not to notice.

He came out of the door, and I noticed his appearance for the first time, since I had failed to do so before. He was tall, and his dark red hair fell in front of his eyes if he leaned forward. His eyes were brown, and he looked at me appraisingly. I could tell he was the protective one, while Isabelle was more friendly and carefree.

"I told him he should come and talk with us a while. If you don't mind, of course, dear."

"Sure, he definitely should." His smile was forced as he opened the door wider. I walked past him into the little house that I had been in just minutes ago.

It looked exactly the same. There was literally no difference. I noticed the same pot that had been sitting on that thing Muggles cook on both times, and there was the same calendar on the wall and the same photo. There was even a streak on that thing Muggles keep their cold food in that had been there last time…

"Come to the family room," she offered, coming up behind me.

There was a growing feeling of unease in my stomach, but I forced my mind away from it as I followed her, and, after a perfunctory glance, noted that they were the same photos. My head turned again, and, with relief, I noticed that there was an extra photo.

"Abby's down for her nap," John said to his wife.

"Mummy!" a little boy cried and ran up to her. He tried to whisper, "Who's that?"

"He's Rodolphus," she answered softly, swiftly sitting next to him.

"That's a funny name," he commented.

I almost laughed, and couldn't help but smile at his comment. The family was so normal, so unlike my own family had been.

I heard a small cry from upstairs. Isabelle rose lightly and, excusing herself, left the room.

I began to examine the photos again. Surely they were the same ones, in the same place. But how could I know? There was one, though, that was decidedly unfamiliar.

Unable to stop myself, I walked back into the kitchen, slipping out unnoticed as John was deeply immersed in the conversation with his son. I walked swiftly to the calendar, and looked at the date. My heart seemed to stop, and I gripped the counter. It was the same day. I had only gone hours into the past.

Before I could contain myself, there was a knock at the door.

Isabelle came into the room. "Sorry," I lied quickly, "I'm just so used to answering the door that I came in…"

She smiled, then opened the door.

My eyes widened suddenly as I saw who it was. It was a Death Eater, who I heard was the youngest person ever to be initiated. And surely, as she stood there, she couldn't have been older than seventeen.

Her eyes were cold and held every bit of superiority I knew mine were lacking. "I'm so sorry," she apologised, her voice falsely sweet. "My brother is here. Rodolphus, I can't believe you."

She came to my side, her smiled plastered on but her eyes still full of hatred. "Can I speak to him for a minute?"

"Yes, of course."

I glanced quickly between the two of them, and noticed they looked very much alike. Isabella was shorter, and her face was friendlier. Her black eyes were warm and emotional, and her smile was real as I walked out.

"Bellatrix?" I asked. "What are you doing here?" Suddenly, the obvious reason occurred to me. "You're going to kill those Muggles, aren't you? Like I saw before I was sent back in time!"

I felt like I was going to be sick. My face paled. I knew I should want them to die, since they were Muggles and 'deserved' to, but I couldn't bring myself to want the beautiful, kind Isabelle dead, or the strong, cautious John.

She laughed, and her eyes glowed. "Of course not. You are."

I was so surprised I couldn't move or speak. I just stared at her.

"You mind killing the Muggles?" she asked, her voice high-pitched.

I couldn't answer, but my jaw was slack with horror. I was supposed to kill Isabelle? Isabelle, who was so sweet and trusting. I couldn't do that. Never.

"No? Why not?"

I just shook my head.

"Are you attached to the Muggles?" Her eyes were harsh, and her face was suddenly set angrily.

"No," I choked out. "I can't kill them. Bellatrix–"

"Either kill them or die."

"Anything else. Please," I begged.

"I will kill one, and you will kill the other. If not, I will kill you, do you understand?"

I nodded. "When?"

"Now."

I stumbled after her, not thinking about how much I liked the family, or how much I wanted them to live. I forced out of my mind the horror that I had felt, or the fact that I had never killed anyone. I tried not to let Isabelle's face shine in my mind, as it kept threatening to.

Without thinking, without feeling, I stood with her as she knocked on the door. "You take the woman," she ordered quietly in my ear.

I looked at her, but her face was harsh, relentless. "As soon as she opens the door," Bellatrix added.

"No," I whispered painfully. But I swiftly pushed the feelings away as the door opened. It was the little boy.

"Mum thought it would be you, so she let me open the door," he boasted.

I wished I could laugh or be amused by his arrogance, but I couldn't feel anything. I would have asked Bellatrix if she were going to kill the boy, too, but I knew that she would. Hadn't I seen it just a little while ago? Had it only been an hour? Why did it feel like years?

"Thanks," Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as her eyes grew more eager. I looked into them and knew that she actually loved to do this – that she wanted to kill this family.

We walked through the house and the boy sprinted ahead. We entered into the room, and the scene froze into my mind. John was talking to his son, their conversation already animated. Isabelle held her daughter, singing quietly.

But Bellatrix didn't waste a second as she lifted her wand and yelled the Killing Curse. I did the same, swiftly, not allowing myself to think. I just said the words, and saw the jet of light. Bellatrix shot two more curses and killed the children as well.

I heard her laugh, and I turned away from the scene. How could I keep looking? Hadn't I already seen it? I looked toward the photos, and noticed the one I hadn't seen in the future. It was the family, talking and laughing. It was another candid shot. As I looked at it, it felt as if I were being tortured, the pain was so great. But I pulled it swiftly out and dropped the frame onto the floor. Bellatrix turned around, but the photo was already in my pocket.

"I'm ready," I said, speaking for the first time in what felt like ages. I turned and walked out of the house, emotionless.

I felt so, so alone. I had just killed for the first time. It had been horrifying – by far the worst experience of my life – and I ran without thinking into the forest. I nearly fell as I tried to sit, and leaned my head against the tree, breathing harshly as I tried to battle the terror and sorrow that I felt so severely.

I heard a voice from behind me. "Is there anything you want to know?"

She sat across from me, cringing slightly. I knew that she must have orders to follow and talk to me, or else she never would've allowed herself to remain so near Muggles without going on a killing spree.

"Why?" I forced out.

"Why what?"

I wanted so much to ask why I had to be a Death Eater, but I thought the best of it and changed the question. "Why did you become a Death Eater?"

She rolled her eyes, but only moments later they grew large, and she looked eager to tell the tale.

"Well, of course, at first I wanted it because pureblood supremacy was my greatest dream. After all, surely Mudbloods deserved to die for being what they were. Purebloods can do whatever they wanted to Mudbloods and Muggles. Half-bloods, of course, wouldn't come until later."

I nodded. I had understood and even followed this belief for so long. Now, though…

Well, anyway, the story seemed very generic. Didn't all the Death Eaters have that experience? Had I been wrong to assume that Bellatrix was different from them all?

"And you wanted power, I assume," I prodded, urging her to continue, curious in spite of myself to learn her story.

"Yes, I did. So I requested to join. I was fifteen–"

"How old are you now?" I interrupted.

Her black eyes turned threatening, and I was unnerved in spite of myself. She looked so sinister at that moment, and I was again forced to remember her killing those Muggles… And how I wanted to never think of it again…

"I'm seventeen now," she stated, her voice still angry.

Three years younger than me. "Are you still at Hogwarts?" I asked, noticing that she waited again for any questions.

"I'm in my final year," she answered.

I tried to stop myself from asking another question, but the words seemed to slip out. "I'm sorry, but did you just leave school… I mean, you're not on h–"

"No, I just left. It's the weekend, and I'll be back by the time classes start. Anything else?" Her question was harsh, and I knew it was an order to stop talking.

"No, continue please. You were fifteen…"

She rolled her eyes but started telling her story again. "I was fifteen, and I had been obsessed with the thought of becoming a Death Eater for two years by that time. It was my dream, I guess you could say. So I went with my family to see him, and he was…" she trailed off, a glazed look in her eyes. She seemed to be in another world, and her entire expression became softer, much less harsh than before. "The Dark Lord is much more perfect than I had ever imagined. I cannot even begin to describe… There was this power to him, and he knew everything about me from the first moment I met him. My Lord told me that I would be a faithful servant, which I knew as well. Surely there could be now higher honour than serving the Dark Lord. Surely no other cause could be so just, so perfect, so right… There never was anything else for me, after that. I was initiated soon after, as the Dark Lord's youngest Death Eater."

I stared as her eyes slipped back into focus, and she waited for me to speak. But I had nothing to say. I knew then that Bellatrix was, most definitely, all that the Dark Lord could want in a follower. She was cruel, loyal and strong. But it was more than that, I knew. Most people join the Dark Lord's ranks because of power or fear. But Bellatrix had joined because of something else. She wanted to, which I knew was what set her apart and made her so desirable.

She looked startled, and pulled back the sleeve of the robes she had quickly pulled on over the Muggle clothes she hated so much. I saw the Dark Mark burn, but she didn't even flinch.

"I must leave. My Lord is calling." A smile grew across her face.

She hesitated only a moment – just long enough to shout, "MORSMORDRE!"

She prepared to Apparate, but paused one more second as she told me calmly, "Rabastan has requested to be the one to kill you if you should choose not to become one of us."

With that, I heard a sharp crack, and I was alone, illuminated by the gentle light of the afternoon sun and the harsh green glare of the Dark Mark.