He had beautiful tiny little hands, with perfect fingernails that clenched around two of her fingers. He was sleeping, and his tiny head turned slightly in his cot. His smattering of jet black hair contrasted sharply with the brilliant white of his christening robes, and Bellatrix breathed in sharply, noticing his hair colour was the same as her own.

"He's beautiful Auntie," She whispered to the grand figure next to her.

"Yes indeed, a perfect little Black. You looked identical when you were born."

"Sirius," she breathed, looking over him once more. She had never bothered herself with Andromeda, who she considered to have ruined her life, crying constantly, having to share their father's limited attention between them. Above all however, it was her mother's new attitude to her that perturbed her the most. She had put Bella under a strict tutorship, and she was barely allowed out of her mother's sight since the incident at her younger sister's birth. Bellatrix had therefore taken it upon herself to upset the despised Andromeda as much as she possibly could. Her parents merely took it as usual sister animosity.

As Bella hung her head into the cot she caught a smell of the infusions they had used at the christening, sharp but comfortingly familiar. The whole family had been there, even the ones like old Belvina Burke who could only dribble and grunt in apparent recognition. It had been a beautiful ceremony, the huge hall was decorated with hundreds of candles; everyone had been dressed in white robes. Black Hall was always used for these occasions, as it had been for many centuries. It was much like the inside of a church and indeed that had been the pretence hundreds of years ago, when many of their family could have been caught and persecuted for their practise of magic. However it was not the religious images of muggles that were depicted in the stained glass windows, but the faces of ancient wizards, long dead, including Merlin and the founder of their family, Orion of Black. The colours of the windows would also change, merging between reds, yellows, oranges and blues hypnotically, as if a trick of the candle light, but if Bellatrix watched carefully, she could see the outlines of the sorcerers move. There were also carvings in the stone walls, gargoyles and dragons, strange faces in the beams. These wooden beams were draped in the same white cloth the family wore, embroidered in gold with the Black family crest fluttering in a magical breeze.

The family were sitting in dark wooden pews arranged in two halves divided by an aisle down the centre which was decorated with more candles floating in the air. This was where the procession walked with the baby held high by the acting head of the family. Today it had been Bellatrix's father Cygnus. The ancient christening robes were long and flowing so that they reached the floor but were still a pure glowing white, even after all their years of use. Bella's aunt and uncle, the mother and father of the child, walked behind him; heads bowed and hooded, their own white robes also dragging behind them. Around their necks hung a ring of blood red rubies that glinted astonishingly in the candle light. The oldest member of the family able to walk was behind them (Arcturus was something like Bellatrix's great-great uncle once removed), and contrasted sharply with the rest of the family as the only member wearing black. They walked to a solemn beat of faint, haunting music, which Bella could never quite place.

When they reached the front Bella's father knelt to put the baby into the cot below him, wrapping the robes around the baby. He then stood to face the family, standing behind the cot while the parents, Walpurga and Orion, went to separate sides of him. Arcturus then joined the front row. Her father then started to speak in Latin, mixed with some French. Bella let the words wash over her, she understood some of it, but was waiting for her favourite part of the ceremony to be performed. Her breath caught in her throat as her father then produced his wand, ready to name him. Walpurga, her aunt then knelt in front of the cradle and Bella's father raised his wand. As she spoke his name everyone heard her voice magnified and echoing around them.

"Sirius"

A flash of dark blue light rippled like cloth from Cygnus' wand and wrapped itself around the cot, hovered there for a few seconds then disappeared. There was a hush in the room, the late Sirius had recently been deceased, but the name was the obvious choice for his great-grandson.

Bellatrix's own mother then made her way silently to the front and Arcturus got to his feet again. Her parents and her aunt and uncle then knelt around the cradle and joined hands, heads still bowed. Her mother's fair hair looked misplaced among the sea of jet black, her distinctive Rosier family feature. The glistening rubies around the necks of Sirius's parents matched the cloth wrapped around the cradle perfectly, forming a deep red, visual bond between both parents and their child. Arcturus now raised his wand high above them and a sheer darkness fell in the hall, the haunting call of the music also stopped and everything was still as Godfather and Godmother were proclaimed. White light shot with a crackle from Arcturus' wand, swirling high above the cradle until it wrapped itself around the enjoined hands of the four adults, rope-like, licking at their wrists turning into brilliant pale flames until a great gust of screaming wind swirled around the four adults, their hair fluttering madly, putting out the fire and relighting the candles in the room. Calm settled again amongst those in the room and everyone started clapping enthusiastically at what they had just witnessed. As this happened, Arcturus silently turned to finish the christening by putting his hand into a small fountain behind him and brushed some of the water onto Sirius' head as Walpurga held up her son.

As the ceremony had finished everyone had queued up to see the little boy, the first male in the generation, the youngest member of the Black family. Some knelt beside the cot and touched him affectionately, as if for good fortune, others simply smiled down and nodded, then turned to congratulate Walpurga and Orion on such a perfect baby Black. Bella had watched begrudgingly from her seat as each member acknowledged her cousin and then drifted out of the hall. When everyone, including her parents, had left, her aunt had called her over and Bellatrix had then wandered up towards the cradle to see her baby cousin for herself.

She poked the baby softly and to her delight he opened his eyes. They were a soft charcoal grey and when they creased as he giggled Bella felt a sharp tinge of pleasure.

"His eyes aren't like mine though," She stated, frowning slightly.

"No, no they're not." Her aunt's stern voice echoed in the huge hall, high beamed and spacious. "They are the eyes of his ancestors, of the ancient race of Blacks." Her voice licked with pride and she looked down at the little girl below her through her own heavy-lidded eyes. "Come Bellatrix, let me show you."

She steered her niece away from her son towards a dimly lit corridor to the left of the hall. Bella glanced back at the ornate cot, beautiful carved mahogany, the Black crest embossed on the side, with the blood red velvet cloth, embroidered with gold, swathed around it. It was as if someone had breathed the family motto into her ear; 'Toujours Pur'. Bella shuddered with pleasure and quickly looked away as they entered the corridor.

"I know you have seen the family tree before Bellatrix, but I don't believe you have ever looked upon their faces." Her rasping voice grated the stillness of the corridor.

Bella gasped and quickly bit her finger to silence herself as she looked before her. Each side of the corridor was lined with portraits, some muttering and whispering, others merely staring and some with no occupants at all. The hallway was lit by flickering blue flames and so the whole experience felt eerily surreal. She looked up at Walpurga who seemed to glow in the torch light, as if she too was also one of the many painted faces. Walpurga was no beauty, but her regal quality and sureness of stance made her striking. She had all the typical features of a pure blood Black, but it was if they were distorted in some awful manner which couldn't quite be placed.

"Your father's portrait will hang here," she pointed with a long finger to a gold engraved plaque which read;

Cygnus Black

1914 –

"Your uncle's opposite, and mine just here. Your portrait will be here someday Bellatrix, as will Sirius's."

"Mine?"

"Oh yes indeed! But will you be remembered as some have been? Will your Black descendents think to mention you when they look upon your face? You have been given her face but will you ever become as legendary to us as she is?"

"Who's face Auntie?" Bellatrix felt her heart thud in her chest as Walpurga's words washed over her, as if reaching into her very soul.

"You will see."

They continued down the hall, some portraits raising eyebrows at her, others merely blinking. She recognised some family members as they had been at the christening, and one or two because their portraits also hung at Black Mansion. Her aunt stopped again and turned towards a portrait.

"Ah Phineas, you decided to join us after all."

The man in the portrait grinned slyly at her before turning to look at Bella.

"I wouldn't miss this little Black beauty for anything," he said after a pause. "They're quite a generation this time; they have the quality of those Blacks of old." The man in the portrait stroked his black beard thoughtfully, before looking sharply back at Walpurga. "It's almost as if something is signalled to happen to them, perhaps they will be the…ah…saviours of us all." He chuckled darkly as Walpurga nodded at the portrait and led Bellatrix away.

His voice called out again almost muffled and faded. "Shake up Hogwarts when you go little Bella… perhaps they've all been getting too comfortable since that Chamber was closed…"

The air began to grow cool, and there was a breeze even though they were deep inside. It prickled the back of Bella's neck and she breathed in deeply as if to taste and smell the magic in the air. She jumped as she heard a soft giggle, and thought she saw a shadow pass across the wall. Walpurga merely smiled; her expression hardening.

"They are expecting us."

Bellatrix felt a wave of apprehension and excitement pass through her body as the corridor opened out into a spacious room with a high ceiling, portraits covering the walls, the whispering of them almost a din in her ears. There was a huge Black family crest in front of her, made from solid silver, gold and wood. The whole room was brightly lit with four burning pillars in each corner of the room, contrasting sharply with the muted light in the corridor, and she grimaced as it hurt her eyes. The whole room shimmered and flowed with light as if in some underwater world and she could feel the tingling through her body of deep, old magic in the air. She breathed it in deeply and looked up at the central portrait.

"Orion Black", stated her Aunt's narrative voice. "Kneel in respect for your Ancestor, child".

The young girl felt the strength of her legs give way as she almost fell to the floor, overawed, almost scared. Dark faces stared down at her from their immortal paintings, some blinking, some with there lips curled in superior smiles. Some moved in a creepy sporadic manner and Bellatrix could hear that soft giggle from time to time which she was sure did not come from her Aunt. The largest portrait of Orion Black kept her gaze. His soft grey eyes looked upon her knowingly but it was not him that drew her attention. In the painting by his knee was a young girl, hardly older than herself and almost identical to her in everyway, from her tightly clenched jaw to the iron cold stare from heavy lidded eyes. The only difference was the colour; they were a deep charcoal grey, those of her new cousin's, shared by the girl's father in the portrait. She gasped and gritted her teeth. The figures in the portraits moved sporadically, drifting out of one frame and appearing in another at random. Bellatrix's eyes followed the young girl who looked like her. Sometimes she peeked around the frames, other times she actually sat down in the portraits watching Bella with an identical hard gaze.

Her Aunt watched her young niece with some kind of fierce pleasure. She could remember the overwhelming feeling herself when she had first been brought here, the realisation of the true importance of her family, of her blood, pure and full of magic. And she knew it was the most important thing for the small girl next to her to know and understand like the rest of them.

"Come and look at this one Bellatrix" she commanded, and she walked purposely towards a small frame in the corner of the room, bare in comparison to the ornate frames of the others. Bella followed obediently, but what she saw when she reached the portrait made her wish she had not.

Bellatrix gasped, she couldn't help it.

A figure was being burned at a stake in the picture, yellow flames licking at the skin of its victim, eating at the flesh. The figure's head was tossed back as the blaze ignited her long, black hair. Bellatrix gazed wide-eyed at the expression on the woman as she wasn't sure whether she was laughing or screaming. She read the plaque beneath the picture which read in gold lettering:

'The Martyrdome of Bellatrix of Black'

Bellatrix almost felt she could hear her calling out and the fact she shared this girl's name shocked her as little could it shocked her as little could.

"She was really burned then Auntie?"

"Yes," her aunt replied in an unnaturally soft voice. "It was the 13th century and they hadn't yet invented the Flame-freezing charm. She suffered at the hands of filth like no witch of the pure blood should. The great Orion's own daughter…"

Walpurga said this more to herself, Bellatrix thought, than to her.

"And this is the same person as the girl who looks like me?" Bella gasped, looking around at the other portraits

"I'm afraid that is correct, but remember she was a legend even when she lived, one of the most powerful witches of the time, and died a martyr. You should feel privileged to share in her name – your father's magnificent choice of course. Her portrait should hang somewhere in your house, empty for some time I believe. I would have expected you to have seen the plaque although... I suppose it is not obvious. Maybe now you have visited her she will now visit you…

"Anyway," she continued in a very different, brisk manner. "It's time we got you back to Grimmauld Place, there's a Christening party that I am supposed to be hosting. We will have to go through the other fireplace though I'm afraid; this one is fortunately not connected to the Floo network."

Bellatrix took one last look at the room, her head full of half terrible sadness, half a burning hatred for the muggles that also inhabited her world, before being swept away by her Aunt. She scowled darkly at the thought of the party that awaited them.

Bellatrix stepped delicately out of the fireplace when she arrived, to see the sitting room full of people. She stood aside to allow her Aunt through who disappeared into the crowd of relatives without a backward glance at her niece who waited expectantly. Bella sighed as she looked around the room and her Uncle Alphard patted her on the head and admired her for being 'A very pretty little thing,' while old Belvina Burke sat in the corner, cackling and grunting as if the whole occasion was some large joke. Drinks of every different type floated about the room; wine, champagne, firewhisky, and some food as well, bumping gently into people's heads. Bella wasn't tall enough to reach any of it and it angered her, she hated being small and insignificant. She saw Andromeda playing on the floor in amongst the feet and was going to vent off some frustration by kicking the small child when she thought she heard a muffled yell from somewhere in the house. No one else seemed to have noticed anything; they were all too drunk or preoccupied in themselves so she slipped quietly through the door, unseen by any of them and found herself in the dimly lit hallway, a few candles floating in midair casting a kind of orange light on everything. A portrait of Walpurga raised a sharp eyebrow but thankfully said nothing. The dark wooden floor creaked slightly beneath her feet so she stopped and looked around. She couldn't hear anything against the babble of noise from the other room even though she strained to hear the yell again.

She liked this house, perhaps more than her own even though it was incomparable in size and she hadn't visited it as many times as she would have liked. It was strange and cluttered with odd trinkets embossed with the Black family crest. There were small photographs of Walpurga and her Uncle Orion. In some her aunt looked much younger, standing with Bella's father and Grandparents, all staring stoically out of their frames, blinking through identical heavy-lidded, dark eyes. Bella tried to open a locked glass cupboard that looked interesting but got distracted when she saw a large tapestry hanging majestically on the wall. It was covered in golden names and Bellatrix realised with a start that it was the Black family tree reaching high up towards the ceiling. It was huge compared to Bella so there was no way she could find the very first Blacks, all very far towards the top of the tapestry. But she could reach her own golden name at the bottom and she fingered it fondly, following the golden line that ran from her parents names to her. She wondered for a second about the small irregular burn marks that dotted the tree all the way up but this thought snapped out of her mind when she heard the yelling again, slightly stronger but still only just audible.

It's upstairs, thought the young girl, frantically biting her lip. She looked towards the staircase at the end of the hall and hesitated. The staircase ascended into darkness and Bellatrix had never been up there on her own before; her heart was pounding. She heard the shouts again and her feet and curiosity got the better of her. The voices were becoming clearer as she climbed so she sped up determined to find the source. As Bella reached the third floor landing she saw a door ajar, light was flooding out from the room into the otherwise blackened corridor. The yelling was coming from it. Bellatrix discerned two voices so instantly recognisable to her that she thought she might fall in horror.

"You're never at home anymore Cygnus! I-I want to join you! I want to help Him with you!"

"Quiet! Do not bring up the Dark Lord! Your place is to have my son!"

There was a huge crash and Bella stupidly found she ran towards the door, she wanted to look, but stopped short of running through the door. She could see the room inside was trashed, her parents were armed with their wands at opposite sides of the room, the only thing separating the two was a huge poster bed, the hangings torn. Her mother's neat hair was spilling out from its usual tight knot; her father's eyes were wild and demented like a beast's.

"How dare you try and smash that on me?!" Hissed her father.

"BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN THE DARK LORD TOO, I BELIEVE IN IT ALL AND YOU–"

Druella's scream was cut short a ripping sound as her father tore a floorboard up with his wand and sent it flying at his wife. The corner caught her forehead and she staggered backwards, her hand clutching her head, blood flowing rapidly through her fingers. Her eyes looked towards her husband, flooded with tears, her mouth opening and closing silently as if all words had abandoned her.

Of all the fights Bellatrix had witnessed between them recently, this one shocked her to the very core, her mother's loss of control seemed absolute and she had never seen it happen before. The usually self-composed, cold woman who could watch someone almost get strangled in her own home without apparent bother was completely disturbed now by her own husband.

"Now you listen," Cygnus began, slowing approaching his wife, his wand outstretched. "You listen to me! You are not to get involved, you do not understand as I do! I'm a Black, you are a Rosier, you are my Rosier wife! – My cousin gets my sister and he gets a perfect Black son! My last child was a runty little girl, plain mousey hair – all my family are whispering she is illegitimate! Is she?! ARE YOU A WHORE?! You know what I think about whores! I'll send you to a brothel, slut, where men can rape you and you can continue to have all their disgusting bastard babies! –"

"– H-how dare you!" she gasped, her tears frozen momentarily in shock. "How can you speak like this t-to me!? You love me, you're supposed to love me… W-what's happened to you? We have been married for nearly ten years!" she spat, her anger returned. She pointed her wand at a picture frame on the wall which went flying at Cygnus' head. With a snarl he flicked his wand smashing it away easily. In turn he pointed his wand directly at his wife and she flew against the wall behind her with a sickening thud. Druella's head lolled forward obscenely as her body crumpled into a heap. Her wand rolled away from her. Trembling violently she attempted to push herself up, blood was still running down her face and now staining her blond hair from the wound in the back of her skull. Barely awake she pawed at her husband's robes in front of her, blood from her face smearing their pure white, all dignity forgotten.

"…Cygnus…Cygnus please…you know Andromeda is yours…we can prove the paternity…" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hardly discernable above Cygnus' heavy breathing.

He looked down upon his wife, his face blank of emotion.

"I-I am no whore," she breathed "You-you know this…B-but you've changed recently Cygnus… I want you back, back from Him-"

With another snarl Cygnus knelt down, grabbed a handful of hair and smacked her viciously across the face with his own hand. Then grasping her roughly around the shoulders he pulled her upwards bending his head towards her ear.

"Don't you dare, don't you dare tarnish Him," his voice was soft, dangerous, alluring. "I never want to hear you even speak of him again. I want to protect you but you make it so very difficult for me. You cannot join him, I forbid it." Cygnus stood again, pulling up the limp body.

"The way you can help is by obeying me! Now I want an heir!"

"No…n-no," she stuttered, feebly trying to push him away. "I will not…I will NOT!"

Druella's efforts were futile; her husband was much larger than her and she was already in a severely weakened state. He shook her violently then spun her around and flung her onto the bed in front of him. Cygnus threw his wand to the side and then moving sharply, pinned his wife down with his knees as she tried to crawl away. She started to scream her husband's name as she found her voice but he hit her again, knocking away her breath. Violently he then ripped away her own white christening robes, exposing her heaving chest. His face was alight with desire entwined with anger, perhaps verging on madness in this moment. He hungrily unbuckled his own robes with one hand, ignoring his wife's weak sobs as he pinned her down with the other. With every thrust she murmered but her protests became feebler as her body started to respond to Cygnus astride her. Her cries obscenely started to turn to pained laughter through tears and a bloodied face…

Bellatrix stood limply at the door as she felt firm hands press onto her shoulders; she crumpled like a marionette to the floor, lifeless, as if someone had cut her strings. She barely felt the strong arms pick her up but she could smell her aunt's scent, taking her away. Her vision was black; she couldn't hear anything except her mother's screams of pain mixed with some masochistic pleasure which vibrated through her skull. Her senses were numb except for some unbearable pain which seemed to rip through her stomach, piercing her, as if she had been gutted. A sharp tap across her face brought her back to some consciousness, but the taste of vomit in her mouth made her vision swim again and she retched. From far away she could hear the echoing voice of Walpurga as she was laid onto a bed.

"Kreacher, I want you to watch her and guard her, probably from herself – I've heard she has a destructive streak. If anything happens there won't be enough of you left for decapitation."

"Mistress," answered a croaking, ugly voice.

Bellatrix felt a finger placed onto her lips and her aunt's whisper; "Never tell. Never speak of it." And the darkness was the last thing she remembered.