"Death is a mirror which reflects the vain gesticulations of the living."
-Octavio Paz
~~~~Bellatrix~~~~
It was fitting to see one so bold and defiant in life receive a meek and condescending death. Molly Weasley, to her, was always a woman of lesser value, one to be placed below her pureblood ideal. Yet this supposedly weak blood traitor delivered the blow that was the end of Bellatrix's living.
Crazy, the Wizarding world called her, and they were certainly right, proved when I paid our dear Bella a visit. Death had changed none of the reckless spell-casting and wild shrieking routine that she constantly performed, the one that usually ended in the death of one or more people in her vicinity. But now, it was the caster of the curses who had received her toll at last: avenged were the many who had died or suffered by her wand.
I pinched her between my twisted fingers, trying to ignore her raucous screaming as I flicked her, literally, out of this world. Watching her floating away, further and further, until she was just a loud-volumed speck (for she had not ceased her yelling) among the clouds, I was shocked that one could resist the end of life so much, even after it had already come. Bellatrix Lestrange, that day, had given a new meaning to a battle fought after it was already lost.
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