Chapter 4: Predators and preys

"I'm tired," Harry whispered, exhausted. He was breathless. Many drops of sweat were beading on his forehead while his voice was hoarse and rasping.

"Too bad. I don't care," Bellatrix answered nonchalantly. "Now you better continue training or I'll make you regret slacking off."

Harry sighed. Again, they had spent a whole day in the dueling room of the Lestrange Castle. Neither Rodolphus nor Rabastan were here and Harry almost missed them. Not because he particularly liked them but at least, their constant bickering would have given him a moment of rest.

And Go- no, Merlin! only knew how much he needed it.

"Again, Baby-Harry," Bellatrix tirelessly said, pointing her wand towards the training dummy. "This is the most basic defensive spell that was ever made. Any ickle firstie in Hogwarts would master it in a matter of hours. But in your case, it had been two days of training and you still can't use it."

"I'm only five!" Harry argued, feeling revolted. His cheeks were reddened by anger and his wand was pointing uselessly at the floor. "I'm only five and I'm not even in Hogwarts! I don't even know how all of this magic even works!"

Harry instantly regretted his outburst. Bellatrix' expression wasn't nonchalant or serene anymore. Her casual gaze darkened considerably; her hand holding her wand slightly shook. Unable to hold her gaze, Harry took a step back.

"You're quite lucky," she finally said. "If I ever used the Cruciatus curse on you, you'd be stuck in a bed for weeks while your body recovers. Most of the potions that can heal the effects of this curse can't be given to children. And at your age? The sheer violence of a single Crucio well executed would make horrendous damages to your nervous system. What I mean by that is that you'd be unable to walk, talk or think about anything else for a very long time. And Merlin knows why, the Dark Lord wants you ready to go hunt Karkaroff with us…"

Harry didn't feel reassured at all. A single bed of sweat that had nothing to do with his training swam down his head while his heartbeat hastened.

"However, if you disappoint Him, He'll be the one who will punish you," Bellatrix smiled grimly. "And he will not be kind. I've seen big guys with big mouths turn into broken infants after one single Crucio from Him. And you? A little five-year-old toddler? I seriously think you'll be killed on the spot."

Harry shivered. A lump formed into his throat. He never wanted to break down crying as much as in this exact moment. But he was bitterly aware that it would only irritate Bellatrix more.

Clenching his jaw with a mix of anger and fear, he lifted his shaking hand and pointed his wand towards the training dummy.

But if Harry looked at Bellatrix out of the corner of his eye, he'd see her nodding slightly in approval. With a voice he wanted confident and clear, he shouted:

"Flipendo!"

If his life was a movie, it would be the exact moment where a silver beam would come out of his wand. Then, it would hit the training dummy, burning it to the ground, under Bellatrix' shocked gaze. With his newfound power, Harry would command her to bring him back to Mum and Sirius and this wicked witch would not argue for a second, terrified from his might.

But his life wasn't a movie. Harry bitterly clicked his tongue as nothing came out from his wand. Bellatrix shook her head with contempt.

"Nothing. Again," she sighed disdainfully.

"I… I can't… use it," Harry bitterly admitted. "I don't know how to use magic… At all."

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Bellatrix deadpanned, her voice becoming increasingly irritated. "And thank you for wasting my time for two days straight. Merlin dammit, what was I thinking anyway? You're nothing more than the son of a blood-traitor weakling and a Mudblood skank. You were destined to be weak."

As Harry felt anger reddening his cheeks, Bellatrix shrugged before pointing her wand towards the training dummy. A flicker of the wand later, a red beam came out of it, hitting the dummy. Less than a second later, it burned down. Ten seconds later, it was reduced to ashes.

"You see?" Bellatrix said, turning towards Harry with an expression full of disdain. "This is magic. This is power. This is what will destroy the enemies on your way. But you can't use it. You can't reach it. And you never will. Yes, maybe being five is a decent excuse, currently. But deep down? We both know why you can't use even the most elementary magic. Because you're weak. Just like your father."

"My daddy isn't weak!" Harry snarled.

"You're wrong on every level. He was weak," Bellatrix replied heartlessly, a wry smirk rising on her face as she saw Harry's growing fury. "Too stupid to give his trust to the right person. Too stupid to face the master with a wand. And too weak to protect his family. If he was powerful, you wouldn't be here."

As the words sunk in Harry's mind, Bellatrix' grin widened.

"But there are two kinds of people in this world, kid. There are predators. And preys. Your father was weak and it made you a prey. And this is how you ended up in my cas–"

"Shut up!" Harry interrupted her, tears of rage rolling on his cheeks.

"Oh, you'll regret that outburst, you weak, stupid little half-blood!" Bellatrix thundered, every trace of her previous amusement suddenly gone from her pale face. "I can't wait to see you screw up and get the orders to go after the remains of your impure family! Which one do you want me to kill first? The werewolf? The godfather? The Mudblood skank? Or your half-blood little brother who's currently living the sweet life without you?"

The words resonated in Harry's head and echoed bleakly. His next gaze towards Bellatrix was significantly more hateful. During these last three days, he tried as much as he could to not think about the ones he loved. The ones he missed. Every time he did, he felt a mix of fear and helplessness.

'I'm sorry Harry, but you'll never see them again. Or if you see them, it will be to kill them.'

The harsh reminder of what would happen to his family if he ever opposed Voldemort's will came back rushing. While Bellatrix was bursting in laughter, mocking his despair, Harry started to cry in anger. It was all their fault. If they only left him alone, hey would've been fine. Daddy would've been alive. Mum would be here to hug him. Benjy would be here to play with him. Sirius would be here to protect him.

"What is that, Baby-Harry? Are you crying?" Bellatrix laughed, using a ridiculous baby voice. "Aaah… I think I get it. Do you miss them, little baby Potter?"

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He pointed his wand towards Bellatrix who widened her eyes in disbelief and bellowed "Flipendo!".

Bellatrix flinched. The gray beam came out of Harry's wand but she casted a powerful protecting spell at the last moment. The Flipendo came back rushing towards Harry, hitting him in the chest and throwing him off ten-feet behind. When he stood up, he felt dizzy, as if every single bit of energy he had left him. Unable to stand still for more than a couple of seconds, Harry fell, tired.

"That's more like it, don't you think, boy?" Bellatrix' voice echoed, calm. She had abandoned her baby voice, now. "So fear of torture isn't an effective motivator… But stupid righteous anger is? I would've never thought that in a million years but to each is own, I guess... Fair enough."

Harry remained silent. He felt strangely calm. Serene. Every bit of anger left him, as if using this spell against Bellatrix was so cathartic, it made him feel better. Avenged.

Or maybe after firing his first powerful spell, he simply felt too tired to continue to feel hatred towards the witch.

"You still have a lot to learn, of course... But this is an encouraging start."

Was it his imagination or her voice slightly softened? Regardless, it was the first time she ever said something remotely positive towards him. That was something Harry craved, as he came from a home where his mother was encouraging, caring and showed it every day. Unable to control himself, he grinned like an idiot. When she saw him smile, Bellatrix laughed.

"Proud of yourself?" she asked. As Harry nodded, she shrugged. "You can be. Be proud of your progress. Savor this pride as much as you can before the Master's glorified minions like Nott will try to stomp on it."

Harry simply nodded, as his previous serenity left for a bleaker mood. Should he really be proud of himself? Even though he was only five, he was more than conscious that it wasn't a game. They were trying to turn him into something worse than Nott. They were trying to turn him into a weapon for the Dark Lord. A Lestrange. As he remembered Bellatrix asking him which one of his loved one he wanted her to kill first, Harry didn't feel any pride anymore.

Only guilt.

"Now stand up, Harry," Bellatrix commanded, while she summoned a training dummy with a flicker of her wand. "Show me again the power of your Flipendo on this training dummy."

"What? But I just showed you that I can do it!" Harry protested.

"I call it sheer dumb luck," Bellatrix opposed with a wry smile. "Prove me wrong."

As Harry tiredly pointed his wand towards the dummy, her grin widened.

"You'll be perfect, kid," she said.

A promise. An order. A prediction.

Or maybe all three?

"Y-Yes," Harry answered hastily. "Of course."

If he wanted to last long in this world of hardened killers, executioners and blood supremacists, Harry had to learn the art of deception and pretense, and quickly.


Three weeks of training.

No two days were ever exactly the same, although Harry was always woken up at half past five in the morning for a "one-hour warming up session with uncle Rabastan" which consisted to listen to him rant about various subjects while Harry was training on the spells he was taught the day before.

Then, it was followed with a good breakfast at half past seven. It was served in a gorgeous dining room of the Lestrange Castle, with a fourteenth-century tapestry on the wall where it was written "La dynastie des l'Étrange.". Under the wry smile of the persons represented on the numerous paintings, Harry would wolf down the food served to him. Rodolphus and Rabastan would argue about a random subject and Bellatrix would chime in sometimes to support one side and aggravate the other.

The breakfast was followed with his training sessions with either Rodolphus or Bellatrix but never Rabastan as he would always mysteriously be absent when it was time to train seriously. Harry learned about first year defensive and useful spells: Flipendo, Alhomora, Wingardium Leviosa… Harry was getting better but spellcasting never truly became easier. It usually took him three tries before being able to cast a single spell, and he rarely managed to touch his target.

'Focus more, little half-blood!' Bellatrix would loudly shout. 'Spell casting is a question of focus, will and movement! Focus, visualize the spell, do the right movement and aim at the damn target!'

'The age or the training is nothing! The will is everything!' Rodolphus would passionately answer when Harry would complain about being too young or inexperienced. Then, when Harry would successfully cast a spell, Rodolphus would simply nod in approval and mutter 'The will to act…'

Was he getting better? Was he living up to the potential they saw in him? Maybe. It was pretty hard to know when Bellatrix was genuinely angry or disappointed, as she perfected passive aggression into an art form. Rodolphus may have been more laidback and nonchalant but it was just as impossible to receive genuine feedback from him.

Then, after that, it would be noon. They would go eat in another dining room with a large bay window overlooking the surrounding forest. Right after that, Bellatrix and Rodolphus would leave. If Rabastan stayed with Harry, they would go to the library and his uncle would teach him how to read, write and count. It was actually one of the rare moments Harry genuinely looked forward to. Aside from snarky comments or quips that Harry was too young to understand anyway, Rabastan would take his time to explain to him the basics, show him what he got wrong and teach him how to never do the same mistake another time.

'Now Harr… -sorry, Valerian, I always forget that's your new name-, just focus on the letters. You remember what the "R" looks like, right? C'mon kid, read me this sentence.' Rabastan would say patiently.

'R-Ro… Rodolphus… is… a… mo… Rodolphus is a moron?' Harry would answer uncertainly.

'There you go!'

But the days when Rabastan left with his brother and his sister-in-law, Bellatrix' sister would come. Harry would never forget the day he was introduced to the unsmiling tall blonde woman. She insisted he called her Lady Malfoy and not "Cissy" or "Narcissa" like the other Lestranges did. Maybe it was because she was a real aristocrat: regardless, she certainly behaved like a real one. Her tone was icy and condescending, her smiles were nonexistent and her posture was impeccable.

About the same age as Bellatrix, Lady Malfoy was always divinely dressed, wearing expensive jewelry and showing perfect manners. She read Harry The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly and a plethora of other wizard-celebrity magazines then often talked about the people in the photographs, expecting him to remember them. She always brought with her expensive clothes and commanded Harry to wear them. When she was here for dinner or lunch, Harry and would usually eat in another dining room, where Lady Malfoy would criticize every move Harry made.

'No, no, no, Valerian!' Lady Malfoy would shout obnoxiously. Strangely enough, she was the only one who remembered Harry's new name. Maybe because she loathed the idea of calling him by the name his 'Mudblod mother' gave him. 'I told you countless times that this spoon is a saucier spoon or a French sauce spoon! You're supposed to use it to put sauce in your dish but not sugar on your tea! This is the demitasse spoon's role! Did your impure parents taught you any manner?'

'Sorry Ms. Malfoy…' Harry would answer tiredly.

'This is Lady Malfoy, young man! You better remember it!'

At first, Harry had absolutely no idea what type of training she was giving him. When he asked Bellatrix, she laughed before answering. Of course, it was to teach him manners and make him a better pureblood… But the other reasons were more insidious.

A Death Eater was not just someone who waited outside with his wand, waiting for his prey to walk out of the Ministry. Sometimes, it was necessary to be inside that Ministry. To kill an Auror, a politician or an Unspeakable, Harry would have to get close to him. Wear the right clothes, walk the right way, know the right news about the right persons. Who knows? He may have to go to dinner with his target. He'd have to choose a good restaurant, demand a good table, understand the food and the wine. No one should ever think he is out of place.

That was the true goal behind Narcissa Malfoy's excruciating lessons.

Three weeks…

Each day left Harry so tired that he couldn't think about something else than sleep. Then, Rabastan would wake him up and the similar -but never identical- routine would play again. Harry would wake up, Harry would train, Harry would eat breakfast, Harry would train again, Harry would eat lunch, Harry would get lessons taught by Rabastan or Narcissa, Harry would train some more, Harry would eat dinner, Harry would train even more, and only then, Harry would be allowed to sleep. He saw nothing of the world beyond the Lestrange Castle except what was shown on the newspapers Narcissa would bring with her.

And even if he could see it, he was so tired that it wouldn't interest him that much anyway.

Then again, the horror of his situation wasn't in the drudgery of the training or the exhaustion he felt each evening. It was in the dawning realization that he might be stuck in this castle for the rest of his life, leaving it only to kill enemies of the Dark Lord. And, worse still, that he might feel grateful towards Voldemort, like Bellatrix does. Maybe he would end up feeling that way. Maybe it would make his future life easier. Who knows?

But when he casted a spell, he shivered thinking he would be sent someday to cast a violent curse towards Sirius. When he wrote his first words, he only wanted to write a letter to Mum, telling her how much he missed her. When he read newspapers about people he didn't care to know, he bitterly remembered the countless times Benjy and him read comic-books their mother would buy from the Muggle supermarket. What would they feel, seeing him right now?

Finally, the day came. When Harry fully mastered the Flipendo and was capable to fire it at will, Bellatrix nodded in approval. She wouldn't congratulate him – the universe would implode. But she couldn't hide her little smirk of satisfaction.

"Well, finally," she sighed before making the training dummy disappear. "Let's go eat dinner. After that, you'll go straight to your room to sleep."

"N-No training after?" Harry answered, his eyes widened by the surprise.

"No training after," Bellatrix confirmed. "You'll need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow. We are going to Belgrade. Hunt down a traitor called Karkaroff."

Harry was so tired that he didn't immediately understand. Then, he remembered where he heard this name the first time. Unable to control himself, he shivered.

"The m-mission?"

"The mission," Bellatrix nodded. "The moment has finally come. The Portkey is ready, the target is ready and last but not least… You are ready, Baby-Harry."

Was she joking? Was she serious? Again, it was impossible to tell. He looked at her, searching for the truth in her cool expression. When she met his gaze, Bellatrix smiled and brushed some imaginary dust from the sleeve of her dress.

"I'm sure you'll be perfect. Not that you have the choice," Bellatrix smiled. "I won't allow anything short of perfection anyway."

If Bellatrix was trying to make Harry more confident, she clearly failed. Harry felt mortified. But he knew better than show a sign of weakness to his "mother". Holding back his tears, he simply nodded and watched impassively as she left the dueling room.