CHAPTER ONE: THE BATTLE
…
"How much do you really know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?"
-Tyler Durden(Fight Club)
...
Bellatrix: warrior. It was in her name; it was who she was; it was her true destiny.
For him.
Always for him.
"Petrificus Totalus!" One of the children screamed. She deflected the feeble spell with a flick of her wand. Her own silent stunner knocked the Weasley girl back into a shelf that held several old, thick books which fell open as they tumbled onto her, revealing some odd runes which almost seemed to move on the page. But Bellatrix didn't stick around to watch. She turned on her heel and dashed away.
She turned a corner and spotted an open door.
One of them must be in there.
She heard a scuffle behind her and turned. A few order members had followed her; her cousin was among them.
It truly was a shame she had to fight Sirius. She hadn't minded his company, all those years in Azkaban. She probably would have gone insane without someone to talk to, and all the others ever did was scream.
Oh, face it, Bella. You are insane, and it happened long before Azkaban…
She ignored the voice, darting through the open door with a small laugh and a smirk.
The tapping of her boots echoed through the empty room. Not empty as in no people; not empty as in no objects. Empty as in nothing. Not even black or white. Nothing.
This is what it must be like to be blind. To see nothing. This is why you can't explain color to a dog, or warmth to a polar bear cub who's never seen the sun. There is no light or darkness here. No power or weakness. No good or evil. Nothing.
She shivered despite the lack of a temperature.
Is this what it's like to be dead?
She looked down. Nothing. Why did her shoes clack against the lack of a floor?
There was another noise, too, suddenly. A monstrous one. Behind her. She didn't look back. She ran. She ran until, through the nothingness, she saw a glint of light. A door. She ran, panting, towards it. She stopped.
There was a door, but it was made of nothing. No handle or frame. Just that tiny sliver of light coming from under the door.
It suddenly occurred to her that there was no air.
She wasn't breathing.
How she hadn't noticed till now, she didn't know: the nothing was excruciatingly painful. Her lungs were empty. No oxygen. It wasn't like being poisoned. It wasn't filling her lungs, it was draining them, sucking out the air. Choking, she fell to her knees and scratched at the crack, the thin ray of light that was her last hope.
The horrible sound grew closer.
…
Sirius made to follow the rest of the order through the door after his deranged cousin, but something caught his eye.
Through an archway at the other end of the room was a cage hanging down from the ceiling, black bars enclosing a beautiful silver creature, scales glistening in the dim light. Curious, he approached.
I shouldn't be doing this…
He walked through the archway and reached out to let his hand trace the intricate markings carved onto the cage. It almost looked like writing; words in some ancient dead language, symbols no longer used. Spirals and triangles and squiggly lines came together to form surprisingly elegant script.
There was a handle on the cage. The creature's sapphire-like eyes begged him, and he could not resist grasping the handle. The cage door opened, and it unfolded skeletal wings. Its small claws made small, musical noises on the bars as it crept towards him.
It opened its mouth to reveal black teeth, and a tiny blue flame escaped its jaw. The flame touched his hand, but it didn't burn. Instead, he felt the gash in his palm that he had gained earlier—Bella's husband's handiwork—disappear. The creature raised its wings, and a thin gold skin seemed to appear out of thin air, covering the silver bones of its tiny wings. The wings fluttered, then closed around the creature. And then it was gone.
Sirius blinked. The sounds of battle filled his ears, muted slightly. He turned, noticing flashes of light from a partially opened door to his right. He gripped his wand more firmly and threw open the door to re-enter the fight.
…
Luna ducked just in time to dodge the green jet of light hurled at her by one of the Death Eaters. She grasped her wand tightly and sent a stunner at the masked man. She heard a yell from that direction, and assumed that her spell had hit its mark. She turned, ran to the nearest door, threw it open, launched herself inside, and slammed it shut just in time for it to absorb another killing curse.
She looked around the dimly lit room.
The room was stone and largely empty. But around the edges were rows of seats, and in the center was a stone archway, a tattered black veil hanging in it. Voices-whispers-seemed to emanate from the arch.
There was another noise, too, from the other side of the room. A small noise. Something scratching, choking, desperate. She walked toward it.
The noise seemed to come from another door on the other side of the room. She ran toward it and put her ear to the black wood. It almost sounded like someone… dying…
Luna hardly hesitated before pulling the door open. There, behind it, was a woman clad in black. The same woman who had taunted Neville earlier. What was her name? Bella… It started with Bella, didn't it?
She supposed she ought to regret saving a Death Eater.
She didn't.
The woman was only on the ground in the other room for a split second before she looked up at Luna and pulled herself quickly to her feet. Before she knew what was happening, the woman had her pinned to the wall by the door, a strangely curved wand to her throat. And, with sudden and inexplicable clarity, Luna knew exactly what the witch's name was.
"Bellatrix!" She exclaimed, and the woman in question cocked her head to one side, confused as to why the girl had said her name when she had a wand—her wand—to her throat. Luna almost laughed. "Sorry," she said, "I only just remembered your name."
Her captor must think her quite insane, she realized.
But then again, almost everyone else does.
She could have sworn she saw the corner of Bellatrix's mouth twitch up into a slight smile before there were crashes and yells from across the room and both witches' heads turned.
The battle had entered the room.
…
The battle had consumed the souls of all those involved. Even some of the children were aiming to kill. Not that they would actually cast the spell, but Neville could see it in their eyes. There was a burning hatred there. He was sure that it was reflected in his own. At least, he was sure it was when he went after her.
This woman—this monster—was the reason he had never heard his parents say his name. This bitch—no, that wasn't good enough—there was no insult he could throw at her that would ever be enough to describe her other than pure evil. And if he told her that, she would likely take it as a sincere compliment.
But she laughed.
She laughed.
She laughed when he tore her away from Luna when he had first entered the room. She laughed when he cast spell after hex after curse at her, all the time deflecting each one with apparent ease. She laughed as she dueled her cousin. She laughed.
A jet of red light seemed to shine brighter than everything else in the room for a moment, and everyone's eyes were fixed on Sirius.
And she laughed as he fell through the thin veil that Harry and Luna, earlier, had insisted they heard voices behind.
She laughed, too, as Harry wrenched his arms free of Remus and ran at her, grabbing her, pushing her through the black veil in the arch.
Somehow, death did not seem punishment enough for her.