Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Most Loyal Servant

The screams echoed through the corridor—the cries of those driven mad by Azkaban. They begged for forgiveness. They begged for mercy. They begged for death. In the end, no matter what they screamed, it all told Bellatrix the same thing.

The dementors were coming.

Many would rather die than be imprisoned in Azkaban. Bellatrix had seen her fellow Death Eaters betray themselves and their master for fear of it. But not her. She was the Dark Lord's most loyal servant. She would never betray him, and she would not give the dementors the satisfaction of seeing her break as well.

Bellatrix Lestrange would not scream.

One of the guards glided silently up to the door of her cell. Frost formed on the bars of the small window between them. And Bellatrix felt herself growing faint. The dementors didn't just bring pain anymore. They hadn't confined themselves to that torture for years. Now they brough visions—her own worst memories, relived over and over again.

Bellatrix stared into the darkness underneath the dementor's hood.

"One day, I will destroy you," she said.

The vision came suddenly.

"Bella! You're going to make us late!"

"Shut it, Keeley. I know where I'm going," Bellatrix said as she pulled her only friend by the hand through the twisting passageway she'd discovered.

"This doesn't seem like much of a short cut. Are you sure that—"

"I'm always sure," Bellatrix said.

"I think we're going—"

"Shush!"

One more turn and the two girls came bursting out of a tapestry around the corner from the Transfiguration classroom. Bellatrix smiled triumphantly at her friend, then sauntered around the corner and into the classroom, well ahead of the rest of their first-year classmates.

"Okay, you are awesome," Keeley said with a grin as she took a seat next to Bellatrix.

"I know."

Bellatrix gasped suddenly as the dark cell returned. Something else had drawn the dementor's attention.

Bellatrix brought a shaking hand up to wipe the cold sweat from her brow. The memory had been different from the ones that had come before. She had weathered her father's tyranny, felt the torture the Dark Lord had inflicted on her for Andromeda's treason, relived the moment that her Dark Mark had faded. Over and over again she had been forced to confront those horrible moments, but this memory was different.

In a way, it was far worse. A well of disgust and resentment rose in Bellatrix. She hadn't thought about Keeley in over a decade. She hadn't cared to.

"Filthy mudblood," Bellatrix muttered under her breath.

She lay there in the corner for a moment, trying to regain her composure. It was a failing effort. She hadn't been composed since she had entered this magic-forsaken place. Still, after a few moments, she was able to muster the strength to drag herself to the stone slab she slept on. She had no idea what time it was—it was always dark in this place—but she would take sleep if it came.

Ten years since she had been imprisoned, if the aurors who patrolled were to be believed. Ten years and the Dark Lord had yet to return—yet to rescue her.

He will return. Bellatrix thought. He will rescue me, and he will reward my devotion.

It was the only hope she had been able to cling to through these long years, and it brought her some small comfort as she fell into unconsciousness.

Bellatrix looked down at the gift and back up to her friend.

"I—"

Keeley was grinning broadly over the top of the table between them. "I know that your parents don't approve, but I thought that you could maybe… well… not tell them."

"Ha," Bellatrix swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked again at the present. "It's—incredible. How did you even get one?"

"Um, that's kind of a long story…"

Bellatrix held it up, feeling the weight in her hand. It was far lighter than she had expected. "I don't think most thirteen-year-olds get daggers for their birthday."

"First of all, you're fourteen now," Keeley said, holding up a finger. "Second of all, this is a ceremonial dagger. It's not meant for stabbing people." She looked around quickly. "Although I don't know if the professors would agree, so probably best to keep it hidden."

"I thought that you didn't approve of this sort of thing," Bellatrix said.

"Why would you think that?" Keeley said.

Bellatrix affected Keeley's customary bubbly tone. "'Have you been stealing from the Restricted Section again? It's called Dark Magic for a reason, you know. What do you mean you want a dagger?!'"

"Okay, okay, so I still think it's a little creepy, but some of it does sound really interesting."

Bellatrix lowered it onto the library table. There were hardly any other students around. Most of them had elected to go home for the Winter Break. Bellatrix had managed to trick her parents into 'forcing' her to stay in order to catch up on her studies by tanking her grades for a couple of weeks. She had worried that her letter begging them to come home had been too transparent of an attempt to ensure that they would see to the opposite, but she was coming to realize that her parents weren't as clever as they thought.

"I'll keep it hidden," Bellatrix said solemnly, "and only use it for ceremonial stabbings."

"No stabbing!" Keeley said, but she couldn't keep the grin off her face. "I know it's not a normal gift, but… you did say that you wanted one."

"I love it," Bellatrix said. She looked up and gave a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Keeley's beaming face faded from view as the dementor moved off down the corridor. Again, Bellatrix felt shame and disgust. Those days seemed so long ago, but the feelings came back clearly.

Fool, Bellatrix berated herself. She had been rebellious back then—she had wanted to show her parents how little she cared for their vision of purity. That naivete had almost cost her dearly.

Bellatrix crawled to her bed and pulled herself up onto the edge. She didn't remember hearing stories of dementors inducing visions, but they were understudied creatures. She doubted that anyone who had gone through the experience of prolonged exposure was in a state to record their observations. She doubted further than any of them would have wanted to. The first memory had been almost a year ago, and she had almost forgotten about it. Why was she beginning to see something different now? So many questions that she couldn't answer.

The image of the Hogwarts library that she had just seen lingered in her head as though taunting her. If only she could reach inside of the memory, the answers that she was looking for were surely somewhere in the pages of the tomes locked away in the Restricted Section.

The Dark Lord will return and reward me. Bellatrix thought, a small smile spreading across her face. The dementors still hadn't taken that from her. When he does, I'll be able to find whatever answers I want about the dementors. I'll learn everything there is to know about them: their origin, their weaknesses.

Bellatrix began to laugh.

And then I will destroy them forever for what they have done to me.

Her cackling echoed through the corridors of Azkaban. The dementors had not defeated her. The Dark Lord would come for her, and Bellatrix would have her revenge.

They came again. The dementors were patrolling more frequently now, Bellatrix was sure of it. For eleven years their visits to her cell had been infrequent—they seemed content to let their oppressive atmosphere do the work for them—but recently something had changed. She didn't know if it was something about her or the outside world, and she didn't care. All Bellatrix knew was that the dementors came more and more often now, and the terrible memories came with them.

She squinted as she struggled to make out the handwritten text of her latest prize stolen from the Restricted Section. The magic described here almost didn't sound possible. It made the transfiguration they taught at Hogwarts sound mundane by comparison. Yet, for some reason, the author of this text had felt the need to write it in such small script that it was nearly impossible to make out what he was describing, let alone how to perform it.

Her wand turned abruptly where it sat on her desk. Someone had tripped the detection charm she placed down the hallway. She quickly closed the book and snatched her wand, tapping the cover and uttering a key phrase. Within seconds, the book had transformed, inside and out, to resemble the Potions text for her upcoming fifth year. Bellatrix smiled in satisfaction and opened the book again, pretending to study its contents.

The door opened behind her.

"Bellatrix," her father said.

Immediately, her back straightened. He was using that tone. The one that he normally reserved for Andromeda.

"Yes, father?" she asked innocently, turning around.

"Don't speak to me that way," he snapped.

"Sorry, father," she said, looking down. There was no use asking exactly what she had done to draw his ire so quickly. She had learned that long ago.

"Good." He walked over to stand above her and straightened his robes. "We are going to a very important event tonight, and you are coming with us."

"I am?"

"You are," he said.

"Why?" Bellatrix asked. Her parents attended important events all the time, but she was rarely ever asked to come along. Truth be told, she was fine with that. She didn't much like the ballrooms and stilted conversations those events were filled with.

"Because, you are a Black, and you are fifteen now. It is time for you to start taking your rightful place in the world."

So it was this again. Her father was obsessed with reclaiming the glory of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Apparently the house had fallen on hard years politically, despite their considerable family fortune. Bellatrix couldn't care less. It was all boring people talking about boring things to make themselves feel important.

The truly important people didn't need to broker deals or play nice in order to make people listen. Merlin, Slytherin, Grindelwald—not a politician among them.

"What if I don't want to go?" Bellatrix asked.

Her father's nostrils flared, and Bellatrix flinched reflexively.

"Then you will go anyway."

He turned and left the room, leaving Bellatrix sitting at her desk, fists clenched. Someday she would be beyond her parents' control. She would be free to study whatever she wanted without having to hide. Perhaps then she could tell her father what she really thought of him. She would enjoy seeing the look on his face when he realized that the tables had turned and that he was powerless to stop her from taking her revenge.

Bellatrix emerged from the memory tasting blood in her mouth. She must have bit her tongue when she passed out. The dementors had come quickly this time, and she hadn't had time to prepare herself. She also found her fists clenched, much as they had been in the memory.

She didn't understand why that memory had been drawn forth. It was a strange thing to relive, for as terrible as any interaction with her father had been, that evening had been perhaps the best night of her entire life: the night that she had met the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix inhaled deeply. She could still remember everything about him. He had been different then—not yet whole, and still resembling the man that he had once been. But the power that he wielded was unmistakable. When he spoke, everyone listened.

That night her life had changed. She had seen real power, seen how casually the Dark Lord had dismissed those he didn't care for, seen how her father had groveled for his attention. She had known then that the Dark Lord had everything she wanted, and it wasn't long before he offered it to her.

"Bella!"

Bellatrix quickened her pace, trying to push through the crowd and lose her pursuer. Two Gryffindors shouted in complaint as she squeezed between them, but their protest died when they realized who she was. She flicked her wand and shoved aside a young Hufflepuff who was in her way.

She ducked around a corner and into an alcove that contained a secret passageway. She heard steps as students shuffled past the entrance, and gave a satisfied smirk. It fell off of her face when the entrance was pulled back and her stalker entered.

"Go away," Bellatrix said.

"Why?" Keeley asked, face full of hurt. "Why are you avoiding me now? What did I do?"

Bellatrix clenched her fist around her wand. "It's not what you did," she said, steeling herself. "It's what you are."

"I don't understand," Keeley said.

"You're a mudblood!" Bellatrix shouted.

Keeley looked as though she had been struck. "I'm… what—"

"You're a mudblood," Bellatrix hissed. She could feel the conviction of Lord Voldemort behind her words. "You're what's wrong with the world. You're the reason that we have to hide ourselves away from the muggles. You're the reason why truly powerful magic is banned and hidden away. You're the reason—"

"Stop!" Keeley said, face twisting with anger. "What is the matter with you?!"

"Nothing," Bellatrix said. "I'm finally seeing things clearly."

Keeley shook her head, anger giving way to confusion. "No. You're not. What happened to you, Bella? You know those things aren't true."

"They are true," Bellatrix said, gritting her teeth. A few short months ago, she hadn't believed it, but Lord Voldemort had shown her the truth. He had taught her the power of purity—shown her magic that Hogwarts would never dream of teaching its students. She had been ashamed when her friendship with Keeley had come to light. Her promise to cut all ties had not been enough to redeem her standing with the Dark Lord. She had to prove herself to him, but she couldn't do that as long as Keeley was around.

"No they aren't. You're too clever to think that," Keeley said, wiping away a tear angrily. "Can you look me in the eyes and call me a… call me that?"

Bellatrix looked her in the eyes. Keeley stared at her intently, and Bellatrix felt a block of ice form in her gut. She tried to say the words, but they refused to come out.

"Bella. You're my friend." Keeley's voice softened and she took a step forward. "You're my best friend. I know you better than anyone. I know you don't believe what you're saying."

"I didn't want to have to do this," Bellatrix admitted. She felt the cracks in her composure widening. All of the shame she had felt about abandoning her friend was threatening to boil over.

"That's why you were avoiding me?" Keeley asked.

Bellatrix nodded.

"Was it your parents?" Keeley asked.

Bellatrix looked at her sharply. "My parents are fools."

"I know that, but… they're still your parents. When you didn't write over the summer, I thought maybe they had finally convinced you you…"

"No," Bellatrix said, annoyed that Keeley would think that her parents were capable of teaching her anything.

"Then what happened?" Keeley asked. She reached out to grab Bellatrix's hand.

"What do you care?" Bellatrix demanded, ripping her hand away. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Keeley scoffed. "I care because I care about you. Because we're friends! And I don't want to see you become like all the other Slytherins. I always thought you were better than the rest of them."

"I am," Bellatrix said.

"Not if you carry on like this," Keeley said. "If it wasn't your parents, then what made you change your mind?"

"I… met someone. Someone powerful." Bellatrix took a deep breath. "He showed me things that I didn't think were possible, and he told me…"

"That muggleborns are scum?" Keeley said, face twisting. "That we're what's wrong with the world."

Bellatrix nodded.

"He's wrong," Keeley said.

"You haven't met him," Bellatrix said, chest filling with breath as she remembered all the times she had seen him over the summer. She had been forced to play the part of the perfect daughter in order to convince her parents to take her with them after that first night.

"I don't have to meet him to know that he's a complete nutter," Keeley said.

Bellatrix clenched her teeth. "Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"You don't know him. Lord Voldemort is going to change the world."

Keeley laughed. "Lord Voldemort? Did he come up with that name himself? Does he fancy himself the next Grindelwald?"

Bellatrix stood frozen, nostrils flaring.

"Bella, you're smarter than this."

"You're wrong!" Bellatrix shouted. Keeley took a step back. "You and the rest of the mudbloods and blood traitors! He's going to change the world, and I'm going to be with him when he does."

Keeley laughed again, this time her voice was harsh. "You've never wanted to follow anyone, Bella. What, did he promise to make you his Dark Lady? Are you really going to throw away our friendship because someone offered to show you some dark magic?"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix raised her wand and aimed it at Keeley's heart. "You have no idea the things he has already shown me." Bellatrix said, fighting to keep her voice steady, fighting to keep control.

Keeley froze, staring at the wand. Bellatrix could see the betrayal in her eyes.

"Turn around and walk away," Bellatrix said roughly.

"Please, Bella," Keeley said, voice cracking. "Please don't do this."

Bellatrix steeled herself. She had to get through this. If she wanted to become the witch that she was destined to be, if she wanted to taste true power, she would have to be willing to sacrifice far more than this.

"You were nice to have around for a while, Keeley." Bellatrix heard the emotion leave her voice, almost like a mask sliding into place. "But the truth is, I never really cared for you."

Keeley's blinked, and tears ran down her cheeks.. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Get away from me," Bellatrix said. "Never speak to me again."

Keeley gave her one last mournful look, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "I guess you're just like your parents after all."

Bellatrix felt a jolt run through her. She snarled and tried to conjure up the nastiest curse that she could, but the incantation died before it reached her lips as Keeley turned and exited the passageway.

The moment that her friend left, all of the air rushed out of Bellatrix's lungs. She leaned into the wall and slid down to the floor, her head in her arms.

I will not cry, Bellatrix thought.

She stayed there for hours.

Bellatrix awoke from the nightmare feeling cold. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. The cold refused to yield.

The nightmares had started to come more frequently now—memories in the form of dreams. It seemed tied to the increase in activity that the dementors had been showing, but Bellatrix still couldn't make sense of it. Did they control what they made her see? Was this an undocumented ability that they possessed, or a side-effect of their aura?

Most of all, she couldn't dismiss the uneasiness about what she kept seeing. Over and over she saw memories of her only real friendship, and how it had fractured when she joined the Dark Lord.

He showed me the truth. Bellatrix thought. He showed me power.

And where did it land you?

A moment passed as Bellatrix tried to ignore that thought. But, like the cold, it stubbornly refused to go away no matter how much she tried to shake it off. She rose from the slab and reluctantly began pacing her cell. She paced every day to keep her strength up and her mind sharp. She had to be ready to serve again when the Dark Lord returned.

Would you serve him again? Knowing where it got you.

Another shiver ran through her, but this one had nothing to do with the cold.

Bellatrix exhaled slowly, her breath frosting in the frigid air. The dementors were coming for her again.

They were pure evil. She knew that now. From the moment that she had arrived at Azkaban, they had played tricks on her mind, warped her perception, made her relive the worst moments of her life.

I will remain strong, Bellatrix thought. When the Dark Lord returns, he will destroy you, with me by his side. It was harder to believe it now, after so many years of waiting and so much torment.

A horrible noise came from the corridor outside her cell—like a giant taking a deep breath, sucking the air out of the room—sucking the life out of her. She could see the silhouette of one of Azkaban's guardians through the bars of her cell.

"No," Bellatrix said. "Please…"

She scrambled away until her back was pressed up against the stone wall. She pressed herself into it, trying to squeeze into the gaps between the stones—trying to escape. The smell of smoke filled her nostrils and the cell around her was shrouded in darkness.

She walked alone through the battlefield. That was how she preferred it, and that was how it had been for the past five years, since she had discarded her only friend.

Her parents were fools, and Andromeda was a blood traitor. Narcissa was far too young and naive for her own good. Though Bellatrix cared for her sister, she held no delusions about Narcissa ever understanding her. Not even Rodolphus stood beside her.

Bellatrix scowled as she thought of her husband, the 'perfect pureblood gentleman.' She had married him out of duty only after the Dark Lord had personally encouraged the union. She found him with another woman less than a month later, but her resentment of him had begun long before that. Both of them knew that he had never been her equal. It was only their mutual devotion to the Dark Lord that kept them civil.

The rest of the Death Eaters regarded her warily. Bellatrix knew that they were jealous of her, and she didn't care. They were cowards who hid themselves behind masks, afraid to show their allegiance to the Dark Lord. She spat on them for it and dared them to answer back. None of them did. Even as young as she was, they knew to fear her, and while fear would bend them to her will, none of them was her equal.

She was alone, as she had been for years.

The battle was over. The aurors had been routed long ago, but they had put up far more of a fight than the Dark Lord had expected. More than one Death Eater's corpse joined those of the blood traitors scattered across the rolling field. They all looked like nothing more than dark boulders under the moonlight. That was, until you got close enough to see the truth.

Bellatrix walked through them all, reveling in the destruction. More than one of the bodies who marked the field had fallen victim to her. The thought brought a cruel smile to her face. In battle, she could let herself go and feel the devastation that her power could bring.

She stepped over an auror's corpse. Glancing down at it with contempt.

The corpse was a harbinger. The Ministry would fight and claw, but ultimately it too would die. Bellatrix would bring the Dark Lord's vision into fruition one traitor and mudblood at a time if that was what it took.

One of the bodies near her stirred.

In an instant, Bellatrix had drawn her wand and pointed it at the survivor. She took a few cautious steps closer and squinted. They weren't wearing auror robes, nor did they have a Death Eater's mask.

Strange.

As she got near, Bellatrix could see that the survivor had been struck by a nasty-looking curse that left a gash in their side and a pool of blood beneath them. From the look of things, they wouldn't be a survivor for more than another moment.

"Help…" they cried softly.

Another cruel grin split Bellatrix's face as she closed the distance between them. She placed a foot on the survivor's forgotten wand and knelt down.

"The Dark Lord does not forgive your treachery," she said.

The breath left her chest as the survivor slowly turned their head to look her in the eyes.

Keeley.

"Bella," Keeley whispered.

Bellatrix stared at her, shocked. What was she doing here? Without thinking, Bellatrix looked down to the wound again. Up close it was even worse than she had thought. A tear nearly the length of Bellatrix's forearm seeped blood with every shallow breath that Keeley took.

"Please…" Keeley said. She swallowed hard and gasped. Her eyes were full of pain and fear.

"I…"

I don't know how, she thought. She hadn't studied healing magic beyond the very basics, and Keeley was too far gone for that. Bellatrix doubted even Saint Mungo's best healers could have saved her now.

"You won't," Keeley said.

"I won't?" Bellatrix tore her eyes away from the wound.

"Won't… help," Keeley grimaced in pain as she choked on the last word.

"I can't," Bellatrix said. "I'm sorry."

Keeley cried out and tried to force a hand down to her side to cover her wound. Bellatrix caught it on the way.

"Sorry?" Keeley asked. She coughed and groaned in pain. Dark specks of blood marked her lips. "Me too."

"For what?"

Keeley cried out again, and Bellatrix felt her heart wrench.

"Keeley…" Bellatrix said. She shook her head, forcing down a stubborn lump in her throat. What was she doing? This was her sworn enemy. This was the scum that Lord Voldemort would eradicate.

"I'm sorry…" Keeley exhaled hard with each word. "I'm… sorry."

Keeley heaved two more breaths and fell still.

Bellatrix stayed unmoving, looking into Keeley's eyes, knowing that they weren't looking back. The only person who had truly known her and cared for her. The only one who hadn't been intimated by her, who had never questioned her until the moment she became a Death Eater. Gone.

Bellatrix unclenched her hand and realized that she had been holding Keeley's. She placed it by her side and looked at the dark blood smeared over her hand..

"Mudblood," Bellatrix tried to say. But she choked on the word when it was halfway out.

She stayed there for a long time, looking at Keeley's face, thinking about her final words. Finally, Bellatrix rose and turned away from the sight.

Keeley had been dead to her for a long time, but somehow knowing that she was actually gone was different. Somehow it was worse. Her devotion to the Dark Lord was all that Bellatrix had left now.

She was truly alone.

Bellatrix awoke with a start and clenched her left forearm. She drew her hand away from the arm and stared at it in bewilderment. The Dark Mark stared back at her—jet black, just as it had been the moment that the Dark Lord first blessed her with it, and it burned with wonderful fury.

Lord Voldemort had returned.

Bellatrix began to laugh. The sound of her deranged cackling filled the cell and spilled out into the corridor. Some of the other inmates began to join in as well—some screaming for her to stop, some laughing along. They were inconsequential.

The Dark Lord had returned, and soon he would come for her. She would be rewarded for her faith. He would elevate her above all the rest, show her power that few ever dared dream of, and then…

And then what?

She felt the urge to apparate, a feeling in the pit of her stomach pulling her toward the Dark Lord's location. Long ago, she had yearned to feel that sensation. She had dreamed of being summoned to the Dark Lord's side to do his bidding. But now…

Why had she started down this path? For as long as she could remember she had wanted power, enough power to not be bothered by the desires of her parents or the Ministry or anyone. Enough power to do what she wanted without having to plead anyone for permission first.

Now where was she? Rotting in hell on Earth because she had put her faith in the Dark Lord. She had mindlessly followed him, just like Keeley said. She had adopted her parents' foolish views. She had allowed herself to be married off to a man so far beneath her that she found the thought of being with him revolting. All in the name of power.

And what power had she got from it?

This is the dementors' influence, Bellatrix thought. I know who I am. I am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant. His most trusted servant. His most…

The train of thought died as the dark mark flared. Wherever the Dark Lord was, he was furious. Whichever of his Death Eaters had returned to him would feel his wrath. But those who hadn't would suffer far worse.

Bellatrix rose from the slab and began to pace. She wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that the Dark Lord had risen. How long would it be before he came for her? How much longer until he freed her from this hell and destroyed the dementors? She knew that they were eroding her resolve. The doubts were coming more and more frequently now. Once she was away from this place, she would be herself again, and all doubt would be erased.

As she paced, Bellatrix imagined it in her head. The Dark Lord striding down the corridor, throwing the door open. Rewarding her faith by allowing her to watch as he burned the life out of the prison's wardens. They must be made to suffer for what they had inflicted on her.

But even as she thought through it, the questions began to creep back in. Why had she devoted herself to the Dark Lord in the first place? How had her desire for freedom from shackles led her to become a servant?

And as Bellatrix questioned, she tried to ignore the fact that there were no dementors nearby.

Every day from the Dark Lord's return felt as long as the decade prior. Bellatrix waited for her faith to be rewarded. She waited for the Dark Lord to come and rescue her. But months passed with no sign of any change. Not even the dementors' movements seemed affected. The only sign that Bellatrix had of Voldemort's return was the burning in her Dark Mark.

Every day that she waited, Bellatrix felt herself slipping more and more. She saw Keeley's face every night in her dreams. First when they had been friends at Hogwarts, but always ending with her eyes staring sightlessly into the sky as Bellatrix watched her draw her final breath. Every night Bellatrix awoke cursing her dreams, and the dementors, and Keeley for testing her resolve and trying to lead her astray.

She had spent more than half her life wrapped in pain, gleefully doling it out and receiving it in turn. How many lives had she taken? How many children had she orphaned? How much suffering had she created in the world? If following the Dark Lord had taken her down the wrong path, then all of it had been for nothing.

In her worst moments, Bellatrix thought of the crime that had landed her here in the first place. The vengeance that she had taken on the Longbottoms. She could see their faces, twisting in pain as she tortured them again and again. She saw herself through their eyes—a monster who served the whims of a madman. She saw herself through the eyes of the other Death Eaters: devoted, yes, but mindless. Nothing more than a tool for the Dark Lord to use and discard.

Through it all, Bellatrix raged at her captors, screaming that she would take her vengeance. They had dared to pry into her mind, and she would make them suffer for it. The moment the Dark Lord came for her, she would see them destroyed.

But months passed, and the Dark Lord did not come.

"Someone should stop them," Keeley growled.

"You do it," Bellatrix said, not looking up from her book.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Keeley huffed. "Because they wouldn't listen to me."

"So make them."

"I can't! They're fifth years and I'm just a third year."

Bellatrix turned a page. "I don't see what that has to do with it."

"Would you put that stupid book down?!"

Slowly, Bellatrix closed the book, noting the page that she had stopped on. She placed it down next to her and looked at her friend.

"Do you even see what your friends are doing?"

Keeley glowered at the group of Slytherins lounging on the opposite side of the courtyard. Bellatrix followed her gaze to find that one of them had trapped a rabbit inside of a magical barrier. It looked like they were taking turns trying out hexes on it while the rabbit tried to escape.

Without saying a word, Bellatrix rose and crossed the courtyard. One of the fifth years saw her coming and motioned to the rest of them. They rose and faced her: five fifth years boys staring down one third year girl.

"Something you need, Black?" one of them asked.

"Maybe she wants you to show her how to—"

Whatever the boy had been about to say was cut off by Bellatrix's striking hex connecting with his face. There was a crack and a spurt of blood. The boy clutched at his nose and fell to the ground howling.

"What in Merlin's—"

Bellatrix hit the one next to him in the stomach, and he doubled over dry heaving. The third one she hit with a jelly-legs jinx. He crumpled to the ground, waving his arms frantically as he fell.

The last two scrambled for their wands.

"Don't," Bellatrix warned.

They froze, staring at her in shock. She moved her wand between the two of them, daring them to try to fight back. They remained still.

"Leave. Now," Bellatrix hissed.

The one closest to her nodded and nearly tripped over himself as he turned and walked quickly out of the courtyard. The one with the broken nose was hot on his heels, while the unharmed boy and the one who had been struck in the gut grabbed their friend with the jelly legs under the arms and dragged him out of the yard.

Bellatrix didn't give them a second glance. She waved her wand quickly to release the trapped rabbit, then walked back over to Keeley, resumed her seat, and began reading again where she had left off.

"You're mad," Keeley said. "You're absolutely mad."

Bellatrix snapped the book shut. "That's the thanks I get for taking care of your problem? First you insult me by calling them my friends, then I do what you want and you call me mad."

To her surprise, Keeley was grinning widely. "Bella, you've always been a little mad."

Bellatrix harrumphed and buried her face in her book.

Keeley hummed happily and watched the rabbit go bounding away. She traced a pattern on the boulder next to her with her wand, leaving a groove behind in the stone.

"They weren't my friends." Bellatrix muttered. "They're beneath me."

"I know," Keeley said.

"You're my only friend."

Keeley reached out and grabbed Bellatrix's hand, squeezing tightly. Bellatrix lowered the book, surprised.

"And I'm all you need," Keeley said, grinning.

Despite her best efforts, Bellatrix felt herself grinning too.

"Shut up."

Bellatrix opened her eyes. She was lying down by the back wall of her cell, finger tracking the same pattern on the stones that Keeley had been tracing with her wand.

No dementors had drawn that memory from her. Ever since they had forced her to watch her only friend die over and over, she couldn't stop thinking about Keeley, even when they weren't nearby. She couldn't stop thinking about that moment in the secret passageway in their sixth year, and what her life would have been like if she had chosen her friend over her master.

She couldn't stop wondering if she had made the wrong choice in the end.

Something was different.

It took a moment, but Bellatrix realized: the dementors' aura was gone. No, not gone, but fainter than before.

Bellatrix rose and moved to the door, peering out through the small barred window. The corridor was empty—not an auror or dementor in sight. In fact, there was no sign of activity whatsoever. The air was still.

There was an explosion.

Bellatrix half-stumbled half-dove to the ground as the entire prison shook around her. Another explosion rocked the structure, and another. Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut, rolling herself to be up against the interior wall.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

They were getting closer to her location.

BOOM!

Dust and rock fell on top of her. It sounded like the cells on her row were being torn apart, one-by-one. Perhaps the Ministry had decided to remove the Dark Lord's most ardent followers.

Bellatrix slowly opened her eyes, just in time to see the outer wall of her cell ripped apart. She instinctively recoiled, but the wall exploded outward, away from her and into the air above the roaring sea.

The wind from outside ripped through her immediately, but Bellatrix hardly noticed it. She climbed to her feet unsteadily and stumbled toward the newly-created gaping hole in the wall.

Then she saw him.

Lord Voldemort floated a hundred feet above the ocean, wand pointed at the wall of Azkaban. A sphere of pale blue light shot from the wand into the wall to her left, and it exploded out into the ocean, just as hers had.

The Dark Lord had come for her.

Bellatrix started laughing madly. After almost a decade and a half, she had finally begun to doubt, but now her faith would be rewarded. Now she would claim her vengeance on the Death Eaters and rejoin her master in her rightful place by his side.

The dementors swarmed upward from the ocean as though rising from the depths of hell. They spiraled up toward the Dark Lord—at least two dozen of them.

Destroy them, Bellatrix thought, gleeful. Burn them! Kill them!

The Dark Lord glanced down, as though not even inconvenienced by the swarm of evil creatures. They rose until they were surrounding him, and Bellatrix felt her grin widen as she prepared to see her captors suffer and die.

Then the Dark Lord pointed toward Azkaban, and the dementors turned to fly in her direction.

No…

The Dark Lord hadn't destroyed the dementors. He had commanded them. She backed away as two of them approached, landing at the edge of where her cell fell into the abyss beneath.

"No," Bellatrix said. "No, no…"

The dementors came anyway, and her heart felt as though it were being incased in ice.

The Dark Lord had come to Azkaban, but he had not come to destroy the dementors as she dreamed. He had come to recruit them. The most wretched creatures in the world, the ones Bellatrix knew were the true manifestation of evil, now served the Dark Lord the same as she did.

And in that moment, Bellatrix saw herself through Keeley's eyes: the fool whose lust for power had led her to forsake their friendship and sell her soul to darkness.

The dementors reached for her, and Bellatrix laughed. For years she had waited and held faith. She had believed that the Dark Lord would return and come for her. Even as the dementors worked to swallow her hope, she had believed. Now he was finally here.

But the Dark Lord had come too late. The dementors' work was finished.

The last thing that Bellatrix heard as she passed out was the screaming. The sign that the dementors were coming. The lament of the broken souls of Azkaban.

This time the screams were her own.

(A/N): Thank you for reading. This story was conceived as the first chapter of something longer, but I think it works well as a oneshot. I might revisit it in the future.