The first couple weeks of term had been pleasant, although there was the pressure of taking seven N.E.W.T. subjects this year, and fending off marriage proposals. Bellatrix loathed idle gossip about which boys were cute; she found the pureblood boys her age to be unseemly, much preferring to fantasize about adult wizards in rock bands, or the fictional ones in romance novels. Lately, she did not need to stray so far from her day to day experience to find inspiration for the fantasies that her mind was so adept at conjuring. She had admitted to her friend Acantha Selwyn that she had fallen head over heels for Professor Riddle. Once, during study hall, when she was supposed to be finishing an essay for Charms, her friend had needed to prod Bellatrix with a quill in order to rouse her from a prolonged reverie.
Bellatrix currently sat beside Acantha in the Great Hall at the Slytherin table across from her younger sister, Andromeda. Andie, as she was familiarly known, was in fifth-year, and somewhat unusual in that she socialized freely with her peers in other Houses, particularly the Gryffindors. Bellatrix had never desired to get to know the riff-raff that sat under the red and gold banners. Blacks had been sorted into Slytherin for hundreds of years, at least until a couple weeks ago when their younger cousin, Sirius, had disrupted the tradition.
"But Professor Riddle must at least 40, right? And he's unmarried. Isn't that a bit odd? What if he doesn't even fancy witches?"
"Oh, Acantha, you are clueless. Professor Riddle is unmarried because he has been travelling all over the Continent for the past decade, doing all kinds of important things. He wouldn't have been able to devote himself to a wife while pursuing such rigorous academic research."
Andromeda snorted loudly from across the table. She knew that Bellatrix was hopelessly obsessed with the blood supremacist who was their parents' age. It was an inside joke among the sisters that Bellatrix would object to any betrothal that wasn't from him.
"Oh, do shut up, Andie. I was talking to Acantha."
The younger Black sister made a face, and picked at her fruit salad.
"As I was saying, our father knew Professor Riddle as a young man and has said he was not without female companions. As Slytherin Head Boy he probably had any girl he wanted." Bellatrix visualized the yearbook photo from 1945 of the young Tom Riddle that she had found in the Hogwarts library, and which was currently hidden under her pillow. "And just because he's not married doesn't mean he might not want me as his wife in the future."
A wheezing sound emanated from Andromeda, who appeared to be choking on a grape.
"Merlin's beard, Andie. Disengorgia," Bellatrix said, flicking her walnut wand at Andie's throat. "Take a sip of pumpkin juice."
"I'm beginning to think you're delusional, dear sister," Andie quipped after the spell took hold.
"I'd have said, 'thank you for saving me from the brink of death, dear sister.'" The sarcasm rolled freely from Bellatrix's tongue these days. Andie surely knew the charm and could've uttered it herself; it was part of the Basic Book of Spells they had all learned in first year.
Andromeda rolled her eyes and continued, "Even if Professor Riddle wanted to, it wouldn't be appropriate for him to do anything with you while you're still sixteen." Andromeda leaned in closer, "Though knowing what mum and dad have told us of a certain Lord something, he doesn't seem to fear being thrown in Azkaban. Thinks he's above the law. I guess you have a shot after all."
"Keep your voice down, Andie."
"Why, afraid he's going to murder me like he did all those innocent muggles?"
"I'm serious, even a peep and there will be Hell to pay for our family."
The Black sisters were now giving each other death stares across the table. While they had once been inseparably close, the past couple years saw increased strain upon their relationship. Bella was more committed than ever to the cause of blood purity, and couldn't wait to take the Dark Mark, while Andromeda had voiced doubts at the family dinner table for which she'd been punished by being made to dust all the chandeliers of the Black mansion without magic.
Acantha interrupted the weighty silence that had descended upon the table.
"I happen to know that both Rodolphus Lestrange and Nicholas Nott have been itching to ask you to the Halloween Ball. You should really think about getting to know one of them better."
"I don't really feel that way about either of them. Nott, well he's just a Quidditch jock. He kind of looks like a thumb. I don't know why so many girls fancy him. Rody's alright I suppose; his only real fault is that he's boring."
"Suit yourself. But it's foolish to throw away good opportunities just because you're hung up on a teacher you can't have."
Bellatrix knew her friend's words were meant with sincerity, although they still stung. Was she really a fool to harbour these feelings? If marriage proposals were any indication to go by, she had already fielded several since term began. Her mother, Druella, had been boasting to friends at parties since Bellatrix was barely thirteen that she had several matches lined up already for her pretty eldest daughter. But if Professor Riddle couldn't be won over by her natural beauty alone, she would have to prove to him how mature and gifted she was. Bellatrix vowed that she would show him in no uncertain terms that she was a ruthless witch with a willingness to serve in his movement.
She considered targeting some students with muggle parentage, possibly planting cursed objects in their bags, or slipping a poison into their meals. Something that would land them for a week in the hospital wing. She knew that she couldn't risk killing while she was still a student. There were too many variables and ways that could end badly—after all, she wanted to be able to serve Lord Voldemort as a soldier after graduation—and it wouldn't do if she was sent to Azkaban. She would need to plan something in the lead-up to the Halloween Ball.
"I'm sorry, Acantha, but I've got to go to the Owlery to send a letter to my mother. You know how she'll complain that she's received three owls from Narcissa already since term began, but not a single one from me."
Narcissa was the youngest of the three Black daughters, and by far the most prim and proper.
"Okay. See you in Defence class."
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
After Bellatrix exited the Great Hall, she did not head in the direction of the Owlery. She ascended to the eleventh floor, where she knew she would find Professor Riddle in the Defense classroom emptied of students. He rarely sat with the other professors in the Great Hall for meals except for occasions when his absence would be remarked upon.
Today, he was attired in ordinary black robes with the sleeves rolled up, and she eyed the mysterious black stone ring he always wore on his right hand. She silently noted how huge his hands were, and that he smelled like woody incense, leather and parchment. His cheekbones were well-sculpted, though he had some lines and scars running down his temples and a dash of grey in his wavy black hair that Bellatrix thought made him look very handsome; his presence exuded sophistication and dominance.
"Miss Black. To what do I owe this surprise visit?"
"Sir, I was wondering if you might be willing to sign a permission slip for me to do some research in the Restricted Section for my essay."
His lips curled into a devilish grin. "Oh?"
"I have eight scrolls of parchment already on the historical legislation against the use of blood magic in Dark rituals, and I was hoping to locate a book on the nature of some of these rituals in order to more fully explain why they should not be used."
"I see. I find your request to be most reasonable." He lifted a quill from his desk and signed the slip, pressing it into her hand.
"Is that all I can assist you with?"
She hadn't doubted he would grant her request, but she also hadn't thought about whether she would make any allusion to the real reasons for it. Did she actually need to conceal her intentions from him after their earlier conversation?
"I…" she didn't know what to say next, but had no desire to walk to Potions. Defence class was not until second period after lunch, and she'd have to be on her best behaviour then.
"Bellatrix?"
His use of her given name always made her heart flutter.
"Yes, sir?"
"If you have any burning curiosities, you needn't hide them from me. I think you will find I have read almost every book in Hogwarts' Restricted section, and many more that Dumbledore would not approve of stocking upon library shelves."
"Well, there was something else I hoped to ask. The Halloween Ball is a popular event, and I think it a shame that so many students of questionable blood status will be going."
"Quite right."
She knew she had his attention then, as his grey-blue eyes seemed to turn a tinge darker while his pupils widened.
"After all, the Muggles have turned Halloween into a crass mockery of our culture. It's not right that the mudbloods get to dance and have fun as if their families haven't forced us to live under the Statute of Secrecy in the first place. I was thinking it would be fitting if some mudbloods were found…incapacitated…on the night of the Ball."
His smile was the only answer she needed. He seemed to be looking at her with a mixture of pride and something resembling hunger.
"I think I have some books from my personal library that might assist you with your planning. I'll bring them along this afternoon. Now, I think you best be off—never any harm in being on time for Slughorn, eh?"
Bellatrix was somewhat surprised that Professor Riddle had memorized her timetable. After all, she hadn't told him she had potions class, had she?
"Yes…," she hesitated for a moment before adding, "My Lord." She knew that was how his real followers addressed him, and took the liberty of using his title to show that she was a fully-grown witch.
The corners of his lips turned up just like they had earlier.
"My best little pupil, and youngest follower. See you next period." He waved her off.
She practically skipped from the classroom, as if the knowledge that he considered her to be his follower might cause her soul to levitate from her body.
After an uneventful hour in Potions mostly spent waiting for her antidote to uncommon poisons to brew, Bellatrix was looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She knew that the lesson was going to be on Inferi, and had already read the chapter for homework so that she was prepared to be called upon.
Bellatrix took her seat near the front, and applied her cherry red lip gloss while making eye contact with Professor Riddle. She locked eyes with her target and gave a demure little wink. It was as if innocence and wickedness were fighting a duel for supremacy on her face, and wickedness temporarily seemed to have the upper-hand.
Professor Riddle, however, appeared outwardly unaffected by the attention that his eager pupil was giving him. He stood in front of the lectern as the remainder of the students filed in. Everyone knew to stop chattering once he tapped his elegant yew wand on the board.
"Today, we delve into the fascinating topic of Inferius, or Inferi as they are known to most of the magical community. There are several known historical instances of their usage, as well as some modern applications. I will be teaching you how to render Inferi immobilized and prevent them from harming you, should you ever be in the position of encountering them. Who can give me a definition of Inferi?"
Bellatrix waited a moment, so that she wouldn't be seen by her fellow students as overly keen, but then held up her hand.
"Miss Black?"
"An Inferius is the corpse of a murder victim that has been reanimated using Dark magic to perform a wizard's bidding. They can be assembled into groups or even armies, as the world saw with Grindelwald's army of Inferi in 1927. They have no independent will and are technically soulless, which separates them from the zombies found in Africa."
"A very comprehensive answer, Miss Black. Yes, multiple Inferi can be commanded simultaneously by a highly skilled practitioner of Dark Magic."
Bellatrix was sure she saw Professor Riddle's lips quiver slightly as he made eye contact with her again. Was he trying to tell her that he had made an army of Inferi, something only Gellert Grindelwald had done?
"So now you may be wondering, how can I protect myself from an Inferi that has been commanded to attack, say, an intruder upon a property? If I have unknowingly stumbled into such a situation, how do I get rid of it?"
Bellatrix's hand shot up again.
"Someone other than Miss Black."
There was some snickering from the opposite side of the room, but Bellatrix paid the others no mind. She was well-liked for the most part among her fellow Slytherins, and didn't care what Hufflepuffs like George Macmillan and Stephen Bulstrode thought about her.
"You. Avery."
"Um, well you could perhaps perform the counter-curse so that it goes back to being, um… the normal kind of dead?"
"The normal kind of dead?" There were more snickers.
"Avery, an Inferius cannot be destroyed by any spellwork or incantation. It appears that reading one chapter of a textbook is beyond your present capabilities, yet somehow here you are in my advanced Defense classroom."
In actual fact, Avery Senior had pushed for his son to be in his old schoolmate Tom's class. He hoped studying under Riddle would be the making of the boy.
"Perhaps Miss Black can tell us."
"Only fire can destroy the Inferi. Although fiendfyre is incredibly difficult to control, it is the surest way to destroy it permanently."
"Very good. Now, the theoretical principles behind the reanimation are not covered in your textbook, but it bears keeping in mind that such a feat requires an inordinate amount of magical capability. Even a very powerful wizard would feel their magic temporarily deplete for several hours. Do not ask me in any further detail what this process involves, as I would not tell you even if I knew."
Tom remembered Slughorn saying something very similar to him when he had asked his former professor as a sixteen-year-old about the ritual of Horcrux-making. Let them wonder, he thought.
"But we will practice setting controlled fires as part of our arsenal for defensive spells. You should be continually adding each spell we cover in class to your notes, as they will appear on the practical exam."
The students were instructed to practice on various targets in front of them. Mostly everyone was able to perform the basic spell, but when it came to controlling taller flames and widening their blazes to specific dimensions, some struggled. Bellatrix had enthusiastically lit her target, a skeleton that had been enchanted to behave like a groaning, angry Inferius, and it crumpled in agony on the floor of the classroom. Professor Riddle watched as Bellatrix cast a series of curses on her skeleton, blue and red sparks shooting from her wand as if she was leisurely painting a canvas. He was quite impressed by her control. He had detected a propensity to theatrics in previous practical demonstrations, and was pleasantly relieved she had been able to reign in her impulsivity.
But Bellatrix wouldn't be who she was without that spark inside her, he thought. Just then, the flames formed a serpentine curve that solidified into the shape of a basilisk. Its fangs protruded ominously and sunk into the skeleton as it writhed and twitched, until it lay motionless, effectively incinerated. Now she was just showing off to him, Professor Riddle thought. He couldn't help the smirk on his face.
"Finite incantatem." Bellatrix flicked her wand, and the flames vanished. "Scourgify." The ashes of what had formerly been a skeleton were swept up into the air and vanished.
"Very impressive spell work, Miss Black. Masters Avery and Nott should take notes."
The boys exchanged slightly annoyed looks at each other, embarrassed that the Master whom their fathers served had praised a girl whom they now realized was their main competitor in winning Voldemort's approval and being inducted as Death Eaters themselves.
"You are now dismissed." He looked at Bellatrix. "Not you, Bellatrix. I've got those books you've requested."
"Yes, sir."
As her classmates filtered out of the room, Bellatrix couldn't help but beam from pride. She had managed to impress the only man whose opinions mattered to her, and who she knew was destined for greatness.
