Bellatrix said to herself over and over, "The Dark Lord will rise again, he will come and you will be the most praised of his servants. The Dark Lord will rise again, he will come and you will be the most praised of his servants."

Repeating the phrase helped her remember. Helped her remember what was important. Pure bloods were pure and all else were filth. How could they, scum, trash, mud be sentient? They would melt and wither away under these conditions. But not her, not a pure blood. She would wait and be proven faithful of all the Death Eaters. None but those in Azkaban could best her in her loyalty.

So absorbed in her mutterings she failed to notice when wizarding overseers deposited a boy in her cell and left. It wouldn't matter to her. But something pleasant came to her at that time. Her thoughts were heightened in a memory of joy when filthy muggles ran from the spells flying off of her wand and their impure blood stained the streets. Staining because that blood was worthless trash.

"Does saying that over and over make it more true?"

The voice, so earnest and surprisingly loud, drew her caged mind to the surface. Bellatrix ceased speaking and raised her head slowly to look at a boy in her cell. He had propped himself up on the opposite wall and was staring at her. She replayed her memory several times before remembering that he had been brought in her cell. Despite that slow reasoning, Bellatrix was unable to form any coherent response to the boy's inquiry. She couldn't have even said what the boy had asked.

She said what she had been saying for what felt like a lifetime. "The Dark Lord will rise again, he will come and you will be the most praised of his servants."

The boy said with a light laugh, "Wow. You are really far gone."

Bellatrix didn't know, neither did she care what the boy said. Instead she repeated, "The Dark Lord will-"

"Yeah, rise again." the boy interjected. "He will come and you will be most praised of all of his servants. Yeah, I heard you and you sound like a broken record. Rule one when entering Azkaban, don't go crazy. But from the stories I have heard, you were crazy before, so I guess you can't lose what you never had."

Bellatrix didn't hear most of his words. Her fractured mind only heard her own words repeat back to her. 'You will be most praised of all of his servants.' Her heart started to thud with glee. The voice wasn't her only. Someone else said it to her. So it had to be true. She WILL be the most praised. Every bit of this misery and dread was worth it. Every scrap she felt. She would be rid of it when her master returned.

She began to laugh. Long, hard in a bitter and joyful cackle.

"Now I've pushed her off the deep end." The boy's words reached her ears but made no progress beyond that point.

Rather quickly, her mirth and delight was taken from her by a passing dementor and Bellatrix fell silent.

The boy sighed then said, "Rule two: come prepared."

He opened a portion of his robes and summoned out a growing silver snake that slithered through the still air. Bellatrix eyes widened at the soft beautiful glow. The snake's tongue flicked out. Her eyes widened examining it like it was going to do a fantastic trick. The boy shifted his hand and the snake wrapped slowly on her, slowly expunging the despair from her. Bellatrix's hand played slowly against the body of the patronus. She was reminded on how much her master adored snakes.

After several minutes, she became interested in the world outside her own head. Bellatrix's eyes met the boy across the cell from her.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my cell?" She demanded.

"She's speaking sensibly. Success!" The boy cheered.

Bellatrix blinked, wondering what was so great about this, but shook it off. "Who Are YOU!" She screamed.

The boy waved his hand as if to say relax, "Once I get her talking, she turns to screaming. Look, there's no need to flip. I'm Jeremiah Raphael."

"Raphael, a pure blood?" she asked delightfully.

"Yeah, I'm from a pure blood family. Apparently the Blacks are one too. But pure blood doesn't describe who we are. No single attribute can. We are pieced together by billion pieces, and a pure blood family would be one. There are dozens more that we can't sometimes identify ourselves. Each piece forms a giant puzzle makes up our entire being."

The boy was babbling nonsense. The only bit of information she cared about was that he was pure blood. That was all. It meant he was superior to the filth of the mixed breeds.

"As for why I am in your cell," Jeremiah continued, "It is because the overseers had made some decision that moved me from my cell to your cell. I don't know why they decided this but if I had to guess at motive it would be because I seemed to be having too much fun in my other cell."

Bellatrix didn't believe there was a real answer in that tangle of words so she didn't reply directly to it. She instead brought up the subject of the silver snake which rested in her lap.

"How are you doing this?"

Jeremiah smiled, "Oh I am just using a very happy thought to create a semi physical magical enchantment that repels dementors and their happy sucking power."

"I know it is a patronus!" Bellatrix snapped, "I want to know how you created it without a wand!"

The boy laughed. It was a strange laugh that caused Bellatrix to stare. The laugh was something like a bitter chuckle that resounded from somewhere deep inside the boy's soul. Like an irony that was only understood by him.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. I thought you knew your pure blood genealogy. The Raphael family is descendents of Morgan le Fay. She left dozens of abilities in her children's blood and bodies. With each generation, the power has grown. I am the climax of that power. I am powerful enough to use many spells without the aid of a wand."

"'Many spells without a wand?' You are indeed powerful to do that, especially at your age." Bellatrix praised in a purr, pleased in the power that still raced through the pure blood veins.

Jeremiah leaned in and asked with a small smirk on his face. "Out of curiosity, do you really believe the Dark Lord will return?"

Bellatrix screamed, "You doubt it?! Of course he will return! How dare you will think otherwise!"

She rose fully intent on strangling the boy for his impudence and doubt when the patronus flickered and despair flowed into her. She froze, the pleasure that would be hers at the boy's death slipping from her. Jeremiah turned his eyes lazily towards it. No expression but boredom appeared on his face as the silver snake solidified.

"You need to control your temper." The boy commented. "Very few would be willing to help an animal that is only going to hurt them."

Bellatrix scowled but was currently too fond of the absence of despair and hopelessness that she was not going to contradict Jeremiah.

"So the Dark Lord will return." Jeremiah said in a musing way, and then added almost jokingly, "Don't kill me for pointing this out, but how exactly will he rise again to power?"

"He will rein fire on all who oppose him and make all fear him. He will be and icon of-"

"Okay, okay stop." the impotent boy interrupted, "Miscommunication. I didn't mean in what manner. Fire, destruction, and epic running and screaming were expected for the Dark Lord's triumphant return from death and oblivion." The boy paused. Then he continued more slowly, "I want to know what steps will be taken for the Dark Lord to get his power back."

Bellatrix glowed in the praise that Jeremiah lavished on her Lord. He did believe that the Dark Lord had power. So consumed in the bit of praise she had forgotten she had been rudely interrupted.

She said in a delighted whisper, "He will rise with his own power, he is strong enough to do that."

"So where is all the devastation and trembling in fear? Where is the Dark Lord?" He said the first phrase goofily and playfully but the second was deliberate, serious and strangely like a threat.

"He will come." Bellatrix defended, "He will. He will!"

"It's been ten years. Whatever happened at Godric's Hollow stripped the Dark Lord of his power. He probably needs some help."

Bellatrix said calmly but added an undertone of warning. "The Dark Lord has other servants who will help him if he does indeed need help."

"Aren't his most loyal ones here?" He asked.

Bellatrix gasped realizing it was true. The ones who had tried to find the Dark Lord were showing their loyalty in Azkaban. All the others were cowards and more or likely had forgotten their lord and master and were leading plump cushy lives while the valiant ones were imprisoned unable to reach the master they adored.

Bellatrix couldn't believe her folly. Now she knew why Barty Crouch Jr. appeared to back out at the trial. To still search for the Dark Lord. She sat back against the cell wall. Not even the patronus could pull her from her own depths of despair. Her Lord, out there waiting for one of his followers. Alone, powerless. How could she be as stupid as to go to Azkaban when her Lord needed her?

"Pity, the use of the Cruciatis Curse is unforgivable when used on a human. One way ticket to this dump." The boy commented whimsically. Mockingly even.

She screamed, "You boy! You have come here to mock me in my weakness! To be a nuisance! A pest! I will-"

She rose taking several steps towards him when his hand jerked up and a harsh force thrust her back into her corner. His face had lost its smirk it had worn during his taunt, it was now blank with a slight frown.

Then Jeremiah smiled, not a smirk but an honest fond sort of smile. "Bella, Bella, Bellatrix Lestrange. I didn't get myself two months in Azkaban to amuse myself by torturing a broken woman, no matter how fun it is to see your passing emotions."

Jeremiah said very slowly in an earnest manner, "Bellatrix, I want to see the Dark Lord rise to power and his loyal servants gathered beneath."

"How can I trust you?" Bellatrix asked.

"You don't. How can you trust someone you don't know? You don't know if I'll turn traitor, or if I'll leave and do nothing or if I'm just playing with your mind. You'll never know for certain. You can never know what I will do. The only thing you can do is have faith that I will do what I will promise to do."

"Then swear to me," Bellatrix finally, "On your pure blood family that-"

"All dead."

"On your ancestry-"

"They're dead so what do they account for?"

"On your wand-"

"I can use some magic without a wand."

"Then on your power-"

"Power? What is power than the ability to get others to do what you want? And since you never know if people will do what you want then what is power?"

Bellatrix was running out of plausible things that might hold the boy's word. His contradictions and reasoning against everything she held dear was creating a massive headache and made her feel weak and tired.

"Then swear to me on your philosophy that you will help the Dark Lord rise."

The boy smiled hauntingly with a strange inhuman delight dancing in his eyes, "I swear. Now tell me where to start."

Bellatrix stared at Jeremiah still trying to decide and actually convincing herself to trust the boy. She would be leaving her master in the care of someone she didn't know.

"Tell him that I am his most loyal."

"Just tell me where I can find him."

"Albania, the forests of Albania."


Here's the second chapter. I hope you like it!