Prologue
It was dark. All she could hear were her own screams. The knife. The wretched.
Bellatrix's curly black hair traced her skin. It was cold. So cold.
"Cower before me mudblood," Bellatrix cackled. Nearby, the Malfoys stayed quiet, shivering in fear.
Hermione's voice intoned, "Please. Please! I don't have it! I don't have it." Her voice trailed into sobs. More screaming. Would it ever stop?
Bellatrix brought her head down, suckling sharply on the blood seeping from Hermione's arm. Her back arched, before seizing.
Hermione gasped, her consciousness seemingly swirling. She moaned, her voice echoing through the wall. The Malfoys were already fleeing. The cowards. Hermione cried out loud, yelling, "Harry! Ron!" A dark voice in her head said, They're dead. An even darker voice in her head told her, They left you. They gave up on you.
She raced across the room. Her body felt weird, unfamiliar. She passed a room of mirrors, only stopping at something peculiar. Standing close to the mirror, she gasped. "What? Bellatrix?"
