A big thank you to Son of Whitebeard, GRandElusYon and Verity for your reviews last chapter.


Winter 1964 – 10 year old Bellatrix

With Meda at Hogwarts, Bellatrix was afraid the boredom would slay her.

She had gotten Mother and Father to buy her astronomy stuff to get through the winter. She'd learned her charts and tried to read her future in the stars. Hungry for something exciting. Narcissa played along and the stars had loads to say, but Bellatrix was no fool. Stars just sweet-talked you with vague useless promises.

"Bella, you can't."

"Mars is hiding Jupiter tonight. That means fortune favors the adventurous, come on!"

"No. We've been punished enough."

Narcissa was a slight, skinny thing; Bellatrix figured she probably could manage to bodily drag her outside. If only she could convince Cissy to let herself be tied up for a game...

"If you must go," Cissy continued with a grumpy twist to her lips, "take a pillow and the bed-covers or you shall be forced to beg a muggle for shelter. Mother will lock you out again, and this time, she won't underestimate your skill at sneaking back in."

Bellatrix smiled smugly. Skill all right. Bellatrix slept through the night nowadays; watching muggles had become a habit of the past. She nevertheless hadn't forgotten how to see.

Locked out of the manor when she'd tried to sneak in in time for supper, she'd circled the walls until she'd spied in which room their parents had stored her confiscated toy-broom. She'd tried to get the windows to open from the inside, but without a wand, subtle magic was a hopeless endeavor. It had taken her hours. She'd been starving, shivering, and all but crying from desperation. But finally, finally, her magic had answered. The mantelpiece inside had crashed against the window without making noise. Bellatrix had then whispered for her broom and flown without a noise back to her room. The anti-intruder (more accurately anti-out-of-bed-children) wards were on the floor, so Bellatrix didn't get caught. She'd found a note under her pillow, from Cissy, saying there were honeybiscuits hidden behind the stack of Meda's letters.

Fine, Bellatrix owed Cissy for the honeybiscuits. And for being all charming and perfect the next day at the Parkinson's so Mother and Father came back in a good mood and decided to not punish Bellatrix for refusing to sleep outside like a street-muggle.

It's just that Bellatrix couldn't see a way to do anything without getting in trouble these days.

Mother had lost the baby, a boy. And somehow, it was Father's fault she'd lost it. Or something. Mother had shouted about a spell. Perhaps Father had tried to use dark arts to make sure it was a boy this time and it had made the baby too weak to live. Mother's words jumbled when she was screaming, and Father had hexed Bellatrix when she had tried to listen in.

Obviously, Bellatrix wouldn't have to be an eavesdropping sneak if someone bothered to explain how long having any kind of fun in this house would be strictly forbidden.

She wished she were at Hogwarts with Meda. "Perhaps I could walk to Hogwarts from here?"

Cissy gave her that condescending you're silly smile that little sisters shouldn't have a right to give their big sisters.

"Didn't you want to practice moving objects with your accidental magic? And there are those books Meda sent. A half-blood wrote them but they're good stories."

Bellatrix was tired of accidental. She wanted magic. She wasn't like Cissy and Meda who could stay inside all day and pretend. Who hid in books and all those things that weren't solid and real. Bellatrix wanted to run and feel and touch and smell, not just escape in words, even when those words held exciting magics.

She squared her jaw and grabbed a fistful of covers off her bed.

"Bella, no, I was joking. You can't go outside!"

"It won't kill me. Anything's better than in here. Go read Meda's books and stop bothering me."

Cissy stuck her chin up. "Fine," she hissed, "but you're an idiot. You'll be in so much trouble."

"And you're so well behaved you'll sort Hufflepuff."

Cissy stiffly turned her back to Bella and went back to her own bedroom without another word.

"You coward," Bellatrix muttered, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. It was magically softened and self-warming, adapting to her body temperature. Bellatrix was pretty sure she'd sleep tight even in a snowstorm.

She hurried through the grounds and out in the streets. It wasn't yet 5 PM, but the sun had fully set already. The flickering muggle lights were too few to dispel the gloom. Close to the manor, it was all rows of glued-together identical houses with no shops, everything flat and boring, except for the two gray jug-like towers of the power station. That's why Bellatrix had gotten locked outside last time, for finally caving into her curiosity to see from up close those gaping towers that spilled clouds into the air.

The cold had the muggles walking hastily. She passed other children, of the running and play-screaming kind. Their clothes were scruffy and often too large or too small as they chased after a boy and a girl who pranced on their bicycles as if they were Lords of the county.

Filthy muggles. Bellatrix hated them. Hated their laughter. Hated their friendly rowdiness. Hated how they got to spent the whole afternoon and evening, every day, outside.

"Hey, where are you from?" That was a boy, older than her but not close to being a man. Between his lips, something like a tiny cigar. "Wanna play with them? I can introduce you."

Bellatrix bristled at been talked to out of turn. "No, you stink." She could smell them. Beasts.

"New here, huh? We moved when my Da died. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." He pulled another tiny cigar from one of his too-large coat pockets. "Want a fag?"

Bellatrix shrugged and took one arm from under her covers. The 'fag' looked filthy but she hated not knowing. At home, everything was clear and named and known. Here everything was muddy : she had no words for what she looked at.

He used a small flame-machine to set fire to the end of the fag. "Breathe, but not too much."

Something bitter and awful filled Bellatrix's lungs. She began to choke.

He laughed as she gasped for breath.

Poison. He was trying to poison her!

"Hey, I -"

Eyes blazing with fury, Bellatrix shoved the burning end of the poison-fag in the muggles' face. She crushed it against the hand he'd hastily raised in protection. He doubled over holding his burned hand with a cry of pain. Good.

"You filth!" Bellatrix shouted before running off. What a fool she was, trusting muggles. She could already picture Cissy's 'nooo, tell me you didn't' condescending stare.

Bellatrix kept running East where she knew London, the proper London, the one with a history with wizards and not just muggles, was. When she couldn't run anymore, she walked. Tiny houses and bad smells gave way with bigger, nicer buildings and shops full of colors. The muggle lights here didn't flicker and there were enough to not need to squint to see where you were going. Fewer scruffy street-muggles crowded the walking paths and the roads roared with noisy motors. Lots of muggles seemed to be just strolling instead of going as fast as they could from one place to the next.

Bellatrix grinned in relief as she spotted the Tower of London. Finally, she knew where she was. She decided to aim for Saint James' Park. Ebony Greengrass had told her it was full of squirrels. Bellatrix hated Ebony for having stables when Bellatrix was stuck with parents who loathed everything living, but she had let Bellatrix ride her horse, so they were friends of sorts. Bellatrix wanted to charm a real live squirrel to play with her. At this hour, the park shouldn't be infested with muggles.

Almost an hour later, her stomach grumbled as she stopped by the British museum and grumpily realized she should have stayed by the Thames instead of thinking she'd found a shortcut. London had looked much smaller on the maps. She resignedly dragged her feet back closer to the river, not prepared to give up on the squirrels. Her nose scrunched up as delicious smells tickled it. Places that looked like inns were packed with suppering muggles, a kind that carried themselves like they mattered. Muffled music mixed with the conversation noises. Bellatrix stopped when she realized there was a band.

Bellatrix had never seen a live band. Father had promised to take Bellatrix to see the Hobgoblins if her tutor said she had gotten better than Ebony Greengrass at the violin. Morgana, Bellatrix hated Ebony. She should have asked to learn the harp or piano like Cissy and Meda. It just that she'd stupidly thought Father would have let her play great-grandmother's enchanted violin once she'd gotten good enough and that, somehow, he'd have been proud.

Her nose was almost pressed on one of the windows when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Here, find yourself something warm to eat."

The woman wore a fat golden necklace and sparkling jewelry. Huh. A lady muggle.

Bellatrix stared dumbly at the two strange tokens the muggle had pressed to her hand. "What are those?"

The blonde muggle had a man right next to her. His face was pinched in disapproval, like Father's right before he'd order Bean to clean Bellatrix up when she was dirty from playing outside.

"Come, Beatrice, I told you it's better to give directly to the Church. They'll make sure the money isn't wasted."

The two muggles awkwardly turned away from her, hurrying back to a waiting motor. Bellatrix just stared. Then she stared at the two tokens in her hand. One pound, each read. On the back, a woman's face. Elisabeth II Regina.

What had possessed that lady-muggle to give her money?

Suddenly, a new muggle was standing in front of her. The man was all dressed in black, with silver buttons and some weird black riding helmet.

"Alright, kid, stop hanging out here. This is a respectable place."

Bellatrix blinked. Then it hit her. She'd seen it happen before, house-muggles giving money to the street-muggles. They thought she was a street-muggle. Her.

"I'm going to my Uncle's," Bellatrix snapped, tightening her hold on her wool blanket. "I know the way."

"'course you are. Show me what's under that."

Idiot muggle. Her. She was under the blanket, what did he think? "No. It's cold."

"Don't talk back to me! Open those -" He grabbed her. The muggle grabbed her.

Bellatrix jerked her arm away with a snarl and started running.

"Stop this instant you little thief!"

Thief? Morgana, what was wrong with muggles?

He was faster. So she made a dash for the road. A black motor screeched, stopping short inches from her. The air filled with defeaning honks. She giggled at the bus driver's face as he swerved out of her way. He looked ready to hex her. Poor helpless muggle.

Her smile died and she gasped when something hit her, pushing her off her feet. Screams pierced the air. She crashed against the ground, her vision blurring.

She thought she heard a pop but with all the noise, she couldn't be sure.

Suddenly grass tickled her aching limbs. It was pitch dark and silent. But she could feel grass all around. She winced when light blinded her. Magical light. What -

"Young Mistress being very aggravating."

Bean. Bean had popped her out of the muggle road.

"Young mistress being lucky her magic protected her. Young mistress being very lucky Bean being under orders to know when young mistress be doing magic."

So that's how Mother and Father had meant to keep her out this time: Bean. Bellatrix shook her head, trying to dispel the sluggishness that invaded her. Usually her magic didn't drain her that much. It must've been a hard blow. She flexed her fingers and toes, just in case.

It was all that stupid muggle's fault. How dare he grab her and call her a thief!

"Don't take me home. They don't want me there anyway. Can't you just get me food?"

Bean stared, that Bean-stare she had whenever Bellatrix got in trouble. It was hard to know what the wrinkled elf felt or thought.

Bean wordlessly popped away.

"Bean?" she tried as seconds became minutes. But Bean didn't have to answer her. Bellatrix stared hard around her, trying to make sense of where she'd been apparated. There was nothing. Nothing but grass and bushes and the cloudy night sky.

What if Bean didn't come back?

Everything ached, especially the muscles in her legs and back, where the motor had hit her. She couldn't believe the muggles had tried to kill her. Beasts, the lot of them.

Bean still wasn't back. Perhaps Bellatrix would really have to sleep outside. She began feeling the ground with her hands, for somewhere flat and soft. The enchanted blanked was warm around her shoulders. It wouldn't be so bad. She'd have a good story for Meda, when Meda'd finally come back for Yule.

Her stomach churned once more. Bellatrix licked her lips. Perhaps she could find a rabbit, or something. Anything.

Pop!

Bellatrix grinned in relief. Her smiled broadened when Bean handed her saw some kind of fudge cake. It looked sticky and heavy and delicious. "Thank you, Bean." She took proper-sized bites despite her hunger because Bean got annoyed when they forgot their manners.

"Young Master Regulus being sick. Nobody can be coming and going. So you be going to Mistress Cassiopeia."

Bellatrix sucked in a slow breath. Not that she wanted to be around sick baby Reggie, just... She squared her shoulders and faked a confident demeanor. Her great-aunt Cassiopeia was interesting and powerful. She'd been all over the world.

It's just Bellatrix had no idea how to make Cassiopeia like her.


"So you can't go home. You were about to sleep in the dirt." Aunt Cassiopeia shook her head as they sat across each other in the spacious living room. "What have you done to make your parents hate you so?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I'm not a boy," she guessed.

The woman barked a laugh. "A boy wouldn't survive Cygnus. My dear nephew would kill him if he was weak, and kill him if he was better than him. His pride is so terribly fragile."

Bellatrix stared appraisingly at her great aunt. The witch was short and thin, with opal earrings and gray curls styled into a neat updo. Her robes were colorful, black warmed by deep reds, vibrant blues and dark greens, flirting with eccentricity yet cut in a way that made her look like the most important person in the room. Cassiopeia didn't come to see them often, and when she did, Father was never happy afterwards. But while she was there, voices got careful and respectful, and Father would talk of politics and serious things. Cassiopeia Black knew everything about everyone. She had power. More than anyone in the family, even Orion for all that he was Lord.

"Would you keep me? Until home stops being Azkaban?"

"Dramatic, aren't you? What possessed you to think I'm fine with childminding?"

Bellatrix bristled. How stupid to think a grownup would like her. Perhaps Cissy would have managed. But even Cissy didn't get fawned over by Aunt Cassiopeia.

"I don't need supervising, Ma'am," she promised, trying to be proper and polite. "I won't break anything. I'm almost old enough to go to Hogwarts."

The witch rolled her eyes. Bellatrix's own eyes were caught to a stack of long boxes in a corner. Could those be -? She jumped to her feet.

"Are those spare wands, Ma'am? Could I borrow it? Please."

"Why, don't you have magic of your own?"

Bellatrix's shoulders slumped. "I've tried to train it. It's... stubborn."

"Did you try to hurt yourself? If you make yourself bleed, your heart will race. When your body panics, your magic is closer to the surface."

Bellatrix winced, but she filed away the information for later. She'd keep her nails sharp if a few gashes were what it took to get her magic working without a wand.

"It's the key to power with dark arts, child. Strong emotions, harnessing them, staying in control without suppressing them. You want me to show you?"

Bellatrix nodded eagerly.

"Then give me your hand."

Bellatrix did. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't the sharp crack on her little finger. Searing pain shot out her arm and she screamed. She... silence.

She screamed in her mind and no sound came out.

"Come now." Cassiopeia's voice was calm. Her blue eyes gleamed. "Heal yourself. Concentrate."

The pain blurred her aunt's words. It was seconds until the ten-year-old grasped their meaning.

Stop the pain. She desperately willed. Fix the bone!

"Your father would be unable to do this. Maybe I hold too high hopes for you."

Bellatrix shook as she cradled her arm. Fix the bone!

"There's a fine line, between a willful independent child and a wild child. Prepared to sleep on the ground, seriously."

Wild child, wildling, some kind of beast. Bellatrix ground her teeth. Would they ever stop calling her names! Fix the bone!

"Well perhaps I shouldn't be upset all of Cygnus' brood will marry into other lines. How mediocre the Blacks have become. It seems I must place all my hopes on Sirius."

Tears of pain blurring her vision, Bellatrix opened her mouth. The silencing spell stole away her words. How dare she. Even Father didn't silence them.

"FIX THE BONE!" Dumb, useless magic!

Aunt Cassiopeia fiddled with her long white wand as she continued taunting Bellatrix. Bellatrix's eyes locked to the witch's hand. She needed that wand.

She WANTED that wand.

Cassiopeia's hand twisted. Shattered. The witch screamed. The wand dropped to the floor.

Oops. Then again, Bellatrix had always been better at breaking things than fixing. She did wince despite the elation rising inside her. Her great-aunt would be furious.

The wand flew back to Cassiopeia's intact hand before Bellatrix could think to grab it. A potion zoomed through the air and into Cassiopeia's lap. The witch uncorked it and lifted it to her lips. In seconds, the bones seemed to reset themselves.

"You can't heal yourself wandlessly either?" Bellatrix exclaimed. Her eyes widened as she realized the silencing spell was broken. "Then why ask me to?"

It wasn't a lesson. It was just taunting. Just Cassiopeia wanting to win. Just like Father. They were all the same.

"Because you're more powerful than me, child." Bellatrix shut her mouth, shocked to hear that, and even more shocked to hear it admitted. "But it's quite foolish to hurt your host. Not to mention unworthy of your breeding. For that I think you will be sleeping outside."

Cassiopeia flicked her wand. A gust of wind pushed Bellatrix off the ground and through the now open window. She tumbled on the muddy ground with a gasp, twisting her shoulder to protect her broken finger. Her blanket landed on top of her unceremoniously a few seconds later.

Bellatrix wrapped herself miserably. The pain shooting up her arm was duller, but it still hurt. And she didn't like the way her hand was all swollen.

"Bean? Bean!" Bellatrix whispered.

No answer. Black elves couldn't interfere in other Black houses without the house-owner's permission. Because some ancestors had used elves to kill each other. Bellatrix had dared hoped that since Cassiopeia had no elf of her own (she'd overheard that the woman had killed her last one years ago and didn't trust them), Bean would be able to come.

She tried to concentrate. Fix the bone!

'Did you try to hurt yourself?'

Bellatrix shuffled to the closest bush and snapped a branch off. Seated on the ground, she clamped her teeth shut and stabbed at her hand. Blood burst out of the wound as she whimpered.

'Strong emotions, harnessing them'

Bellatrix didn't know what she was supposed to feel to heal her stupid finger She only felt rage. Rage at her parents, rage at Aunt Cassiopea. Rage at Meda for being gone. Rage at Cissy for being happy to stay at home. Rage at herself, for being so helpless.

Bellatrix screamed in the night. She stabbed herself again. To shut up her thoughts as much as to try to get her depleted magic to respond once more.

More pain shot through her. More blood. It covered her hand and wrist. It dripped on her lap. Bellatrix's breathing quickened as new panic welled inside her. What was she doing? On her knees now, she frantically wiped her hand on the blanket. Her head spun from hunger, exhaustion and pain.

This had to stop. She'd... what if this was all a big joke? Cassiopeia trying to see if Bellatrix would kill herself? She pressed her good hand against her wounds to staunch the flow but blood kept oozing out. Her teeth chattered in fear.

Stop! Just stop!

A new wave of dizziness had her pitch forward. Suddenly, she felt nothing. Frowning, she moved her bloody finger. It moved wrong. I wasn't healed. But it was silent. Everything was silent. The pain was gone. The blood on the back of her hand had gone still. Like frozen in the moment.

Her knees under her chin, she wrapped herself once more tight under her now bloody blanket. Shivering in fear and exhaustion, she soothed herself. The blood's stopped. I'm not going to die. I didn't heal, but I made the pain go. Her eyelids were heavy. The blanked warm on her back. She lowered her head to the ground, too tired to go anywhere.

Bellatrix blinked, confused, when she woke up in a soft bed. It was light outside. She couldn't remember falling asleep. She immediately examined both her hands. Clean. Bloodless. No outside wounds. No trace of dirt. She moved her fingers. Her right little finger twitched oddly. Still broken.

There was a potion on her bedside. It looked identical to the one Cassiopeia had drunk the night before, so Bellatrix gingerly took a swallow. Her broken finger tingled. The girl sighed in relief and gulped the potion down.

"It gets easier when you learn to harness your wandless magic without needed pain or panic."

Bellatrix froze as her great-aunt appeared by the bedroom's door. The woman looked smug. Like she was proud. Like Bellatrix should be grateful.

Should she? She had managed to do magic in less time than – It hurt! another, fierce voice whispered – But still, it had worked. Aunt Cassiopeia had taught her something.

"Will there be another lesson today?" Bellatrix said cautiously. Pain didn't last. Power did.

The gray-haired woman eyed her appraisingly. "You're a hotblooded child. Perhaps it can be made into a strength. I have a present for you."

Oh? Bellatrix pushed herself out of bed. She belatedly realized she wore a satin nightdress with a neckline that plunged ridiculously low on her flat chest. She blinked, realizing what a mid-thigh length for her meant about the dress' cut on a grown woman. She stared back at Aunt Cassiopeia, who looked much too old to be engaging in that kind of adult fun. "You still wear this, Ma'am?"

Cassiopeia laughed, a cheerful laugh with no edge. Bellatrix found herself relaxing. She almost never made her parents laugh like that.

"Good girl, you bounce back fast. Call me Aunt Cassie. It'll be easier if you don't fear me too much."

Why should Bellatrix fear her? She'd never leave her room if angry grownups and a little pain scared her.

She smiled tentatively. "You said a present, Aunt Cassie?"

Breakfast was first, and Bellatrix honestly wouldn't have minded had that been the present. Yesterday's fudge had been the only thing she'd eaten since lunch and magic always left her starving.

The two witches then went into an unusually bare, rectangular room bathed in light by four windows. Cassiopeia pulled out a reddish-brown wand from her robes and handed it to Bellatrix. Eyes wide, her mouth suddenly dry, Bellatrix gingerly took it, marveling at its warmth and smoothness. It pulsed faintly under her palm. Magic. Proper magic.

"Hold it tight. We'll duel." Duel? For real? "What spell do you want to learn first?"

First. There were so many. Flying was at the tip of her tongue, but it was advanced magic of the kind even Mother and Father couldn't cast. What if Bellatrix failed, and Aunt Cassie decided she wasn't worth teaching?

"Incarcerous," she finally whispered. Father's favorite punishment. She was eager to see how it felt to be the one casting it instead of the one trapped in the chafing ropes.

Aunt Cassie gave her an appraising look. "That spell is a conjuration, girl. It was part of my practical transfigurations NEWT."

"Father can cast it. You said I was more powerful."

Bellatrix's confidence withered at her aunt's new smile. A smile that said that she would fail."Or," Bellatrix decided. "I could first learn with ropes already there. Without having to conjure them."

"Wise."

Cassiopeia flicked her wands and a bundle of ropes appeared at their feet.

"I can teach you the light spell, where you must levitate the ropes and then twist them around your target. You'll have to visualize the ropes' movements for it to succeed. Or I can teach you the dark spell, where your focus is not on the ropes, but on the entrapment. The ropes will twist by themselves to achieve the result you intend, as long as your intent is powered by suitably strong emotions."

The dark sounded much easier. Who cared about how exactly the ropes were to twist? Nevertheless, Bellatrix wasn't ignorant. Nobody warned anybody about excess light magic.

"What's dangerous about the dark?"

"Oh, the usual. Spend too much time hating your target to get the proper intent and you become a hateful person. Your magic will encourage it. It will thrive on Dark Arts, but, like a child in front of a bowl of candy, it won't know when to stop. If your magic wins against your mind, it'll be a question of whether you get yourself killed or if aurors shut you in Azkaban first. Your emotions will be less in tune with events and reality, constructed instead by your mind and magic as fuel for your spells.

Bellatrix blinked. It was right there, tickling her mind, realizations regarding her family and many of the families the Blacks were closest to. Understanding how Cassiopeia Black could so dispassionately break her great-niece's finger and throw her out one day, and the next day happily teach her magic. But the prospect of learning a spell, with a wand, dispelled them all.

"The light sounds harder, though," Bellatrix said, conflicted.

"Well, light doesn't require a specific mood or mindset, it's just visualization and rational focus. The more spells you learn, the easier it is to learn a new one. But at your age, especially a little girl boiling with feelings like you, dark will come easier." Her hand reached out to Bellatrix's face. Bellatrix winced but Aunt Cassie's fingers just cupped her chin softly. The woman smiled thoughtfully. "You don't have to hate the target. Hate consumes. I prefer curiosity when the two can be substituted. Only, everybody has the ability to hate. Curiosity is harder to summon if it is not in your character."

"Oh, I'm curious, Aunt Cassie!"

"So I've seen." This new smile held no promise of failure. Aunt Cassie looked as eager to start as Bellatrix was. "We can try the dark spell."

The target was a doll. It looked like Father, with a mop of curly black hair, an angry frown and everything. Aunt Cassie smiled knowingly at her. Their secret. Bellatrix laughed in delight.

It wasn't easy to make the long length of rope obey. It twitched like a bothered snake. Curiosity. Bellatrix took a deep breath and concentrated, an eager smile on her lips.

What would doll-Father look like with a rope tightened around it? Would the stuffing explode?

It took almost ten tries to get the ropes to fly in the dolls face. But finally, after close to half-an-hour, the rope wrapped itself around doll-Father's neck. Bellatrix grinned when the stuffing did explode.

"Perfect," Aunt Cassie said once Bellatrix had succeeded three times in a row. "Now we can duel."

Bellatrix's proud smile faltered. Now she realized why light spells could be preferred. Ropes were always ropes. But Aunt Cassie wasn't Father-doll and yet Bellatrix had to muster the same intent. She concentrated. Curiosity. Aunt Cassiopeia was powerful. Could Bellatrix successfully trap her? Could she prove to them all that she wasn't helpless?

Beneath the curiosity, the familiar fury stirred away. The ropes flew clumsily forwards, so clumsily the older witch just stepped aside.

"Expelliarmus," Cassiopeia said, her quiet confidence quite at odds with Bellatrix's red-faced efforts. A jet of red light that shot from her wand.

Bellatrix tried to duck, but it was like the spell twisted to hit her. An invisible hand ripped the wand out of her hand, so violently she fell forwards. Her knees slammed against the marble floor. Ow.

Bellatrix pushed herself up, equally thrilled (her first duel!) and annoyed at herself. Her wand was in Aunt Cassie's hand.

The witch's eyes went pointedly from Bellatrix to the wand. "Oh, well, that's too bad, I'll keep it now."

Bellatrix's face fell. Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiftly willed them back. Willed the crushing disappointment to not be visible. Of course. Aunt Cassie wanted to show she had won. Perhaps the woman was different, but not that different. At least Bellatrix had learned a spell.

"Bella, my dear, you're a witch. You smothered your disappointment instead of using it like a hook to summon the wand back to you. Emotions are fuel, remember? Now that you're all walled off, the wand's lost to you."

Merlin's balls. Why couldn't Aunt Cassie have said -

"Next time: Thursday. I'm taking you home and I'll have a word with your Father. Don't forget to grip your wand harder, next time."

Bellatrix nodded, her disappointment replaced by giddiness. Next time.


Bellatrix hadn't gotten punished. Whatever Aunt Cassie had told her parents, it had worked better than the best shielding charm.

"Why can't she be our mother?"

Cissy pulled a face. "She's Father's aunt. It's too close. Can you imagine, marrying Uncle Orion?" Bellatrix shoved her, because ew and that was not the point. "Careful," Cissy teased, "he married a Black once already." The mischievous glint in her eyes vanished. "I'm glad she's nice to you, Bella. What did you learn?"

"Well, first she broke my hand -" Cissy flinched. She was still frowning when Bellatrix had explained it all.

"So how is it done, then?" Narcissa said, her eyes wide and serious.

"What?"

"Healing. If anger or fear were enough, it should have worked for you. Perhaps..."

"What?"

"You were calling your finger dumb a lot, but it's not its fault. You and your finger are allies. Healing is supposed to be, well, nice."

Bellatrix bit her lip. "If I get a bone-knitting potion just in case, I could try again and be nice." Just the thought of feeling that pain again made her stomach tighten. Still, even Aunt Cassiopeia couldn't manage that kind of healing. If Bellatrix did and showed the witch she could manage it-

Cissy shook her head slowly. "I want to learn it. Face it, Bella, you're not nice. It's okay. If it works for me, I'll teach you."

Bellatrix frowned. A feeling she couldn't name welled inside her. She wasn't sure she wanted Cissy to try. Imagining her on the ground, blood all over her- Anger welled inside Bellatrix and she pushed the thought away. She couldn't find a good reason to forbid her little sister, though.

Next Thursday, she asked Aunt Cassie if she could teach Cissy too.

"No. You are a Black. Look at her, with her blonde locks, fake innocence and her flower name. She's a Rosier just like your Mother. She'll marry into another line and forget us. She's not as powerful as you are. She'd hold you back."

Bellatrix frowned. Sure, Cissy was little and everything, but she wasn't weak. She wasn't disloyal. And – Bellatrix recognized the warning gleam in Aunt Cassie's eyes.

Bellatrix changed her expression and nodded. "You're right. I don't want Narcissa here either," she said. Not that it was wholly a lie, only -

"She's jealous of me," Cissy said later, looking annoyed. "She wants you all to herself so she can be your favorite. You just teach me and don't tell her. We'll duel together in secret. It's alright."

Bellatrix sometimes marveled at Cissy's ability to just know why people acted like they did. Cassiopeia wanted her, like Bellatrix was this precious thing. A nice, warm feeling filled Bellatrix's chest.

"You have the bone-knitting potions?"

"Yes." Bellatrix answered, smiling at her little sister. Too bad Aunt Cassie didn't like her. "Four vials."


AN: Next up, Bellatrix's Hogwarts years.

Of the Black sisters, I'm finding Bellatrix the hardest to write. I needed more setup than with the other sisters to get a solid feel of what kind of child/teen she could have been and what set her on the path she took. I hope this didn't disappoint.