Azkaban, January 1996

Things were changing, Bellatrix noticed. The dark mark on her arm, which had been dormant for fourteen years, had burned back to life last summer. That was another thing the high-security wing where she resided had been suspiciously absent of dementors for the past week. She still remembered waking up one day and not feeling trapped in her misery, for the first time since her arrest.

She knew this was a sign only her Lord was powerful enough to convince the dementors to abandon their posts. He was coming, she would be free soon, and she would have her revenge.

For the past fourteen years, she had been forced to relive that horrible November first over and over again. She remembered when the mark faded, and she knew something terrible had happened to her Lord. Then her husband convinced her that they had to find Voldemort again, ignoring their responsibilities to little Rhea. Even though torturing the Longbottoms had been wonderful stress relief, the fun ended when they were immediately put on trial and sent to Azkaban. The horror of being Azkaban when she learned that Dumbledore had the nerve to place her beautiful pure-blood daughter with muggles of all things!

Little Rhea Black Lestrange, with her black curls, who called her mama, and looked at her, like she was the most important person in the world, was stuck with muggles. Once she was out she would make the entire Order pay for daring to lay a hand on her daughter.