Heyo! So I'm sure you can all infer by the title, our favorite insane(ly hot) dark witch makes her grandiose entrance! I'm excited, so for once, I'll just cut right to the chase.
IMPORTANT: I've recently spoken with a fellow reader (I haven't asked them if they would prefer to remain anonymous or not, so for now, mums the word), who is a part of a charity organization known as Carers Support, which helps to support those caring for loved ones who need more particular things (IV's, life support, etc.) in the Bristol and South Gloucestershire area, so if you are interested in learning more or supporting this charity, here is the link!
" . /"
For those wondering, by the way, I've sort of modeled this afterlife after the Lake of Souls from the Cirque du Freak series. I recommend it; it was a favorite series of mine when I was but a wee lass.
Anyways, enjoy!
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Bellatrix was lost in the circular motion of her fate, just another tortured soul being pulled into the empty expanse of nothingness.
She passed others, occasionally, that looked much like her: faceless, glowing orbs that floated just out of reach.
She wondered if they were aware of their own existence anymore, or if they'd already been lost to the gentle motion of invisible waves.
More than anything, Bellatrix just wanted something to happen. Where was the fire and brimstone, the hellacious torture so many people were sure she'd be destined for upon death?
Where were the big, pearly gates muggles spoke of, surrounded by winged seraphs, their trumpets blasting in a song that would drop the dark witch to her knees?
Nowhere.
Just an endless sea of nothing, her soul doomed to wander, always wondering what she could've done to prevent this.
Until something extraordinary happened.
The former death eater watched as, in the middle of the emptiness, something bloomed.
It was a small ray of light, and to say it was blooming was perhaps incorrect. It resembled a blade, slicing cleanly through the darkness, so bright that if Bellatrix had eyes, she was sure she'd be blind.
The light slowly dimmed, and she realized it wasn't just light, but an opening.
She could see the real world, just beyond the thin film of light…was that the veil?
She tried desperately to rush towards the opening, to no avail. Nothing would pull her out of the motion death had set for her.
A rope shot into her dwelling just then and flew towards her. She waited, hoping against hope that it was her this rope, this savior had chosen.
It snaked its way around thin wisps Bellatrix hadn't even noticed before, echoes of a soul, and then pulled them out of death.
It was gone, and Bellatrix was left once more to her fate.
If her soul was capable of it, she would weep. Perhaps her earlier thoughts were inadequate; this wasn't purgatory. It was Hell. Instead of pain, this world left her desolate, and gave her hope, only to rip it away once more.
She floated aimlessly along, no longer even facing the opening. Bellatrix continued her circular motion-
Wait.
Something was wrong.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Bellatrix wasn't floating in the same direction.
The soul was abuzz with energy, and her mind simply kept repeating this is it this is it this is it-
!
Hermione followed Shacklebolt to the elevators, her face ashen, her wand clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Ron and Harry followed behind, sharing the same look as the intelligent witch.
A squadron, of highly-trained and seasoned aurors followed suit, their composure grim and business-like.
Kingsley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry boarded one elevator, grasping the hand holds as soon as the minister pressed floor 9.
"Remind me why we're bringing back the worst death eater ever to exist?" Ron asked.
"Because she's the only one who can stop a goblin rebellion that, realistically, would never have happened if the Wizengamot wasn't still set in the stone ages." Hermione responded, letting a small amount of bite bleed into her words.
"I see. Kingsley, mate, after this, I'd fire all the blokes on the panel."
"And who, exactly, would you suggest replace them, Mr. Weasley?"
"Probably someone who didn't inadvertently start a rebellion, but that's just a thought."
"Mmm. Noted."
The quartet arrived at Level 9 shortly after and waited for the rest of the aurors to show up.
The Department of Mysteries. Exactly how Hermione remembered it. She hadn't been here since her fifth year, yet she could recall every crack in the stone walls like the back of her hand.
It was the first time she'd laid eyes on the dark witch.
And she was beautiful…
She stopped that thought almost before it could start, steadfastly refusing to be weakened by her feelings.
The aurors showed up shortly after, and they made their way to the Death Chamber.
Upon entering, Hermione was mildly shocked at how much colder and darker it felt than before. It was as if, as the souls entered, just a bit of The Veil seeped out and into the room. Ever so faintly, Hermione found that she could hear the softest of whispers, and saw a small ripple coming from the inside of the massive stone archway.
Right in front of the archway, a small pile of ashes sat, slightly darker than the floor. She swallowed thickly when she realized that those specks of dust made up the body of Bellatrix Lestrange.
That arch sent her back, and for a second, she was a terrified child playing hero with her friends, as madmen hounded after. She'd taken a calming draught before they came, but she could feel her anxiety bubbling just underneath the surface.
The aurors fanned out into the amphitheater surrounding The Veil and took up positions all around the room. In the center, along with the quartet, stood several Unspeakables, their wands pointed at the archway. They said nothing, but Hermione could feel their magic channeling towards the center.
Shacklebolt lifted his own wand and aimed it at the middle of the circle.
"Is everyone ready?" He looked each and every person sharing the room with him for confirmation. His eyes hesitated just a moment longer on Hermione, and she gave him the best determined nod she could muster.
In all actuality, the one part of her life she thought she could someday forget would be back, and more prevalent than ever. She would never be ready.
"Qur Mortuus est Tibi,
Anima non Quiescit,
Et ego Invocabote,
Redire in Terra Viventium."
A bright light shot out of his wand, and the minister gripped it with both hands as he struggled to pull…something…out of The Veil.
Only a small wisp of smoke broke out, and quickly dissipated.
Undeterred, Kingsley threw his magical line back in, reminding Hermione vaguely of a fisherman going after a prized bass.
This time, he managed to catch a more substantial soul, one that pulled him forward until Harry and Ron managed to catch him.
The three pulled with all their might, until a bright orb emerged. It bounced frantically against its bindings, but the magical line held strong.
Slowly but surely, Shacklebolt managed to coax the orb to the pile of ashes in front of its former dwelling.
The second the orb touched the ashes, they swirled around it, as if each speck were greeting an old friend. Faster and faster they went, until a small twister stood before the mages.
Hermione's heart caught in her throat at the sight of toes, and then pale feet, then legs, the ashes travelling upwards and forming an all-too-familiar body in the process.
Legs gave way to knees, then thighs, a torso, and not a scrap of clothing in sight, much to the young witch's chagrin.
Bellatrix Druella Lestrange nee Black stood in front of her after five years and was as naked as the day she was born.
And she was beautiful…
Upon returning, every scar, every mark that Hermione had mapped out years ago, had vanished. In their place unblemished, alabaster skin. She looked healthy, as if she hadn't lived through two wars, an abusive home, and a fourteen-year stint in Azkaban.
Gone were the sunken eyes, and instead, healthy black irises darted frantically around the room. Her face was still as angular as Hermione remembered, but her skin glowed as if the sun were trapped beneath it.
Her lips were plump and full, parted in a dazed look of awe, and her teeth were no longer jagged and rotten, instead a brilliant shade of white.
Even her hair seemed to notice the change, falling in shining ringlets around her face.
Bellatrix resembled a lioness to Hermione. Looking around, she saw a few aurors lower their guard, as the dark witch had no wand, but the scars on the muggleborn's arm wouldn't let her forget just how deadly she could be.
Scared black eyes locked with scared brown ones, and Bellatrix opened her mouth wider, trying to form words.
"D-do-"
A stunner flew from Hermione's wand before she could stop herself.
Bellatrix's eyes widened, and then fell shut as she dropped to the floor.
!
And that is another chapter! I know this one was short, compared to the last one, but I liked the finality of this scene. The translation for the latin I got from google translate, and it reads:
"You who have died, your soul not at rest, I call upon thee, to return to the land of the living."
A bit of a coppout, in my opinion, but I have a rhyme and a reason for it.
Anywho, I haven't really picked a day to update this story, so I guess, tentatively, once a week? Maybe a little longer, just because I have college finals coming up.
I hope you all enjoyed, and I'd love to read your thoughts and feedback!
See ya in the next chapter!