Chapter 10:

Masqurade

Bella was excited. Perhaps even more excited then she had been on her wedding day. She arrived to the annual ball with Rodolphus and Rabastan, but couldn't wait for them to excuse themselves from her company, as she knew they would do; Because somewhere in gallerias that overlooked the ballroom, the Dark Lord awaited.

Finally Rodolphus parted from her to join his master. He seemed reluctant to do so, as if he feared to leave her to her own devices. Not because he cared for her, she knew – if during their short marriage he had grown to love her, his anger at her for humiliating him in front of the Dark Lord and the Circle subsided it, even if he tried to hide it behind his unbreakable composure. No – he feared what she would do if left alone. He feared a second humiliation.

"Don't worry," she told him before he left. For some reason she was annoyed by the fact that he hadn't forgiven her yet. "You'll be proud of me yet."

Rodolphus seemed unsure as he walked away, glancing at her over his shoulder.

As soon as he was gone Bella slipped from the ballroom to the upper floors of the estate, which were forbidden to guests. Still, as she climbed the stairs, the echo of the ball thundering under her feet, she wasn't afraid to be caught wandering about the Goyle Mansion without permission. She was filled with burning excitement, like a dancer before a great show, and nothing could take that joy away from her.

She slipped into one of the guest rooms, which she know from her last visit to the mansion – an unsuccessful matchmaking attempt that ruined a very nice dinner. As she had commanded, one of the Black's house elves was waiting for her there with all the things she had asked him to bring. She didn't trust the Lestrange's house elves, not since she had discovered that each one of them was spying on her of Rodolphus' mother.

Bella dismissed the house elf, locked the door, then took off her shoes, her jewelry, disbanded her hairdo, and took off her expensive blue dress, throwing it on the floor with disinterest. Then she opened the bundle brought by the house elf and spread its contents on the guest bed. These were exactly the things she needed to create the perfect disguise; A dark silver evening dress, plain but beautiful, high white shoes, long matching gloves, a pair of long silvery earrings and her black velvet mask.

Bella ran her fingers over the stars embroidered in the silk with love. She wished she hadn't had to hide it deep in her closet since the last time she had wore it, and yet now, after the long separation, it looked even more captivating in her eyes.

She wore her disguise, including the mask, and then looked at herself in the mirror. It was precisely the simplicity and lack of ornamentation of the dress that made it breath-taking; It exposed her shoulders and back seductively, and would make her stand out like a candle in the darkness among the other women. She also left her long hair spread over her shoulders and back, in a very unconventional way for a woman in a ball.

The earrings she wore were a particularly expensive item she had bought at Knockturn Ally during the first dreary weeks of her marriage. The pair of glittering silvery rapids were enchanted to magnify her costume, so that even the most talented Legilimens couldn't reveal her true identity.

And the crowning glory – her mask. It was precisely when she wore it to hide her true identity that she felt she could truly be herself, and at the same time someone else completely. Someone more beautiful, more powerful, more cunning – the woman who had committed a shocking mass murder and didn't care. Because she wasn't Bellatrix Black, but some other woman, who saw these muggles as nothing more than annoying flies and had no trouble crushing their miserable lives to show the world her true power and status...

She smiled contentedly at the image of the mirror, which she recognized only with difficulty. Now it was time to go on stage and began the show.

The ballroom dancing was in full swing as she entered the hall. Her entry didn't receive the attention it deserved, she thought – too few noticed her and watched her in amazement as she passed them. She mustn't get lost in the crowd. The spotlight belonged to her.

She stood at the edge of the dance floor and scanned the area for a suitable mate to share the audience's attention with. At the far end she noticed her aunt Walburga dancing with Regulus.
Bella smiled to herself. Little Regulus, never able to get away from his mother's skirt... It was time for her to take on the task of finally making him a man.

She walked gracefully across the dance floor, as if walking alone was a dance in its own right, and dancing couples who almost collided with her stared. The dance was over. Bella stood behind her cousin and put her gloved hand on his shoulder. He turned to her and almost jumped back. She motioned to him that she wanted – demanded – to have the next dance. Aunt Walburga gave her one look before she realized who she was, and withdrew in surrender. Regulus looked after her like an abandoned puppy, and then the dance began.

Bella had to admit that her little cousin was a better dancer than she had expected. Agility was an advantage he had won when he had lost in all other areas. He may have matured, but to Bella his face was still the face of a frightened boy, and his thin fingers were not meant to hold a woman in any way.

The dance was over. As Bella had expected, all the eyes were now on her. She knew what thoughts were running behind all those eyes – was she the mysterious murderer whom everyone was talking about? What was she doing there? Why won't she show her face? Her performance reached its ultimate climax, filling her with a satisfaction to which she immediately became addicted.

When Rabastan approached them and passed on his master's request to speak to them, Bella felt that her plan couldn't have been realized better. It was the first time she had appeared in public appeal since she had proved herself, and the Dark Lord was already interested in her.

Rabastan led them to the Dark Lord's booth, oblivious to the fact that the woman following him was his sister-in-law, the woman with whom he spent many hours each day in idleness.
The place where the Dark Lord's faithful had gathered was just as Bella had expected it to be; Dark, quiet, heavy with the scent of charcoal and pipe smoke. That was what the Dark Lord loved, darkness and quiet. He was a humble man to the level of abstinence.

Bella looked for him as soon as the door opened. She noticed his silhouette against the verandah overlooking the hall, and her heart made a sudden leap like a frightened doe.

The Dark Lord's supporters sat in armchairs behind him, all handsome in their dress robes. Their attention was immediately directed at her, as if she were an actress rising on stage at the opening of a play. And like that actress, Bella adopted the attention with the intent of giving her best performance.

She knew all those men who were watching her so eagerly. She was almost tempted to remove the mask at that moment only to shame Malfoy, who was examining her with unrestrained sexual interest, without any trace of shame. And Rodolphus – she knew the desire in his gaze, though it wasn't directed at his wife, but at a strange woman. But she wasn't jealous at the thought of him desiring another woman; She herself intended to replace him with a better man when the time came, it would have been hypocritical not to let him enjoy the looking at other women, especially if they were actually herself.

She was brought before the Dark Lord. She knew she was interesting to him – otherwise he wouldn't have called on her – so she allowed herself not to bow. She was going to prove to him that she was as good as he was. He had to understand that he would be nothing without her.

He wanted her, it was clear to her throughout their conversation. With all his greatness, the Dark Lord was still a man, and no man could remain indifferent to Bellatrix. His black eyes were opaque, his body unmoved, but even when he turned to talk to Regulus, Bella caught the delicate frequencies he transmitted without his knowledge – waves of confidence that told her that he was convinced he would conquer her.

After her cousin left, she allowed herself to express her curiosity about the Dark Lord's interest in him.

"That young man seems to be a loyal supporter," she said pleasantly, although she thought Regulus would be a failure as a Death Eater.

"Oh, he will be, one day. I have big plans for young Mr. Black. Would you like some wine?"

He snapped his fingers and a rich dark liquid was poured from an old bottle into two beautiful glass goblets. Bella picked up one of them, smelled it with pleasure, but didn't take a sip. He probably still thought she was a little stupid if he believed she would actually drink something he offered her.

"He looks a bit frightened, don't you think?"

"Everyone is afraid at first. But Regulus has a sharp intellect and a rare curiosity, two traits that my supporters lack. He could be a great wizard one day, if he would allow me to guide him on his way to glory."

"I am pleasantly surprised by your devotion to your followers. Each of them must be a great wizard if you have accepted him to your service."

"Certainly. I do not accept men into my Circle easily – they must first prove their devotion to wizards society, and not just to me. As for my devotion to them – I am the leader of these people. A leader is to serve his followers, as his followers serve him."

Bella was once again struck by the power of the Dark Lord's simple words. Undoubtedly, he was not only a great wizard, but an unrivaled leader.

"Do you only accept men to your Circle? No woman has ever been awarded with the Dark Mark?"

"No. I have found that women are distracting to the followers. They are cunning, and tend to have secret agendas... No, I'm afraid women do not have a place among my followers. Except that I have not yet met a woman who has satisfied me in terms of loyalty and abilities."

"No one? You have never considered taking a witch in your Inner Circle?" Bella asked, desperate to hear him mention her name. He couldn't have forgotten her request.

"No. But why do you ask, my Lady? You wish to join me?" Asked the Dark Lord with a sly grin, swirling the wine in his cup.

"Absolutely not," Bella replied, perhaps a little too sharply. She hid her uneasiness behind a grin of her own. "I thought more about... A partnership."

"A partnership, you say?" The Dark Lord replied with a slick tone. "It is a bold request to make to someone like me."

"I thought you would appreciate boldness."

"I do appreciate it, to a certain extent." His eyes focused on the mask's eye slits. "Not long ago I have met an extremely insolent young witch who demanded that I make her a Death Eater. I have never encountered such disrespect. It's odd that I've met two such witches in such a short period of time, is it not?"

For one terrifying moment, her heart told her that he had revealed her disguise. That he knew who she really was, and he was going to do something terrible to her as punishment for trying to deceive him. But he seemed so calm and calculated, not angry at all, so he must still be oblivious.

"It is a strange coincidence," she replied, forcing herself to speak steadily. "Maybe it's a sign... That it's time you should consider finding a place for women among your supporters."

"Perhaps," he said, sipping his wine. She was sure he was about to do something unpredictable, but he just sat there and looked in the direction of the hall as Fleamont Potter started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests," the speaker began. The chatter died away, replaced with tense silence in anticipation of what would be a particularly scandalous speech "It is an honor to speak to you tonight. Without unnecessary delays, I will immediately address the subject at hand: It is a particularly burning issue, especially in an evening like this, where representatives of all pure- blood families are gathered under one roof. There is an epidemic that is spreading slowly but steadily in our society in recent years. It is a deadly plague that takes many lives, the lives of those who suffer from it and those of many others, innocents. The person who is spreading this plague is sitting among us this evening. He is treated like a hero, instead of being treated as the criminal he is. Lord Voldemort is a criminal of the worst and most despicable kind."

Mr. Potter paused in order to soothe a wave of angry murmurings that didn't come come. A tense, terrible silence stood in the hall.

"He is poisoning the well from which we drink," he continued, not letting the frightening response undermine him. "He send our sons into a hopeless battle, where they will die in the hand of other wizards. We all know his ambitions well, the white cloak of hope he dons when he appears in public. But his disguise mustn't fool us, and his true face mustn't be forgotten – the face of a cruel, uncompromising monster, thirsty for blood.

"As we all know, our society has been in a standstill for almost a thousand years. There is no point in denying that. Some blame the muggles who once persecuted us. There is truth in that – once the unmagical have halted our development. But it is not the case today. We are to blame for out lack of development. We are a conservative society, uncompromising and rigid – we continue to enforce the cage in which we are imprisoned, by hating anything innovative, rather than breaking through it by progress. Ladies and gentlemen, what is called the Muggle's Iron Fist is only a vision of people who had been lost in darkness for centuries. We are the ones who are afraid to turn on the light and see what the world has to offer us, out of fear that this abundance will be new and unfamiliar.

"Magic is might, on that Lord Voldemort and I agree. But why use this power to cause suffering, to provoke hatred and fear? Why not use it to thrive? Why do we insist on shunning wizards and witches that have muggle blood? We continue to tell ourselves that they are inferior, wretched, when the truth is we are afraid of them. Yes, we are afraid of the possibility of a world where muggles and wizards can live side by side, because that is what fathers and mothers taught us. We mustn't live in fear of losing our fortune and prestige. We must embrace every wizard and witch. That is the only way we can restore out society's glory, shake off the dust of centuries, and realize our true power.

"Some say that our society is dying. I think they're wrong. A body that does not create anything, and instead is only consuming itself, is already dead. My friends – our society is dead."

Mr. Potter scanned the audience with a grave look, and the spark of his eyes could be seen from far away.

"But like the phoenix, it could rise again from the ashes, if we only let it. We cease the internal wars, stop following wizards who call themselves lords and promise to bring back the glory of the past. Each and every one of us must shed the burden of the past and march bravely toward the future."

He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at the audience with a sad look.

"The last enemy to be destroyed is death. Life cannot exist without death, as light cannot exist without darkness. Death, failure, destruction – they'll always be there. But this is no reason to be enslaved by them, to make them a way of life. Everyone loses in the end in the battle against death, but it is not such a terrible loss – not as terrible as the loss that will be our lot if we follow a person who fear and terror are his way. Thank you for your time."

He descended the stage without applause. Only then did people began to murmur in dissatisfaction. Bella looked toward the Dark Lord, who was watching the people talking about the speech with a blank face, unreadable. She yearned to know what he was thinking. His Death Eaters looked at him expectantly.

Finally he mentioned with his finger, and Malfoy came up to him quickly.

"Gather all the followers," his master told him, not taking the his eyes off the dispersing crowd. "Mr. Potter has crossed the line."

"Of course, my Lord, immediately," Malfoy fawned. "Who will command the operation?"

"I will."

"My Lord..." Malfoy looked at his master in confusion as he got to his feet and straightened to his full height.

"Are there any questions, Malfoy?"

"No, my Lord." Malfoy bowed and walked away.

Bella rose and stood beside the Dark Lord. "His insults were shameful," she told him passionately. "Let me join and help you regain your honor – "

"Regain my honor? I must me confused, my Lady," said the Dark Lord, towering over her. He was looking at her with a snaring amusement, somewhat offensive, as if he was talking to a child. "My honor remains intact. But the words Potter has said to these respectable people are unacceptable to me. Each and every one of them is the scion of an ancient and noble house, and they do not deserve the criticism of a delusional old man. It is their honor that I'm defending tonight, not my own."

Bella found herself nodding. She was so touched, as if he had promised to protect her own honor personally.

"The Dark Lord is... So noble..." Her voice trembled uncontrollably. Not knowing how to express her gratitude, she knelt before him with the dignity she had insisted on not giving him before.

"Rise. It is not the time for that."

The Dark Lord stepped up to the verandah, looking down at the agitated people. Bella got to her feet and came to stand beside him hesitantly.

"You said you were interested in a partnership," he said to her, looking at his men as a shepherd looks at his sheep. "I will consider it, if you could prove to me that besides defeating a few muggles, you are devoted to these people as much as I am."

Bella nodded, her throat choked with shame and gratitude. For the first time since what she had done, a spark of remorse came to life in her heart that had turned dark and numb since that day. The Dark Lord was so wise – no wonder he refused to take her to his Circle. She had acted like a spoiled brat. She had killed all these people for nothing...

But there was still hope for her. She would prove him her worth, this time in the right way.