Disclaimer: I don't own Bellatrix Lestrange or any characters related to Harry Potter. Those honors all belong to the queen J.
It's been 19 years since the fall of Lord Voldemort, and the wizarding world is at peace. All of the Death Eaters scattered so not to be sent to Azkaban for life. Bellatrix Black, now back to her maiden name skulked around in the shadows somewhere in Iceland, waiting for her moment to strike.
Rudolphus the coward went and offed himself by jumping from a cliff… the muggle way for the worthless scum. He was never truly loyal to the Dark Lord, not like Bella. Oh, Bella.
Bellatrix stalked through a muggle village in Iceland, sick to her stomach that she's been living amongst them for almost two decades. It's what the Dark Lord would have wanted, although Bellatrix wanted to apparate into Potter's room and kill him in his sleep… it wasn't right. She got back to her house and the Daily Prophet came through her chimney, somehow still coming to her.
"Hogwarts Looks for new Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor"
"Oh-ho-ho this is too good" Bellatrix laughed to herself. She checked the calendar on the wall. "And if I'm not mistaken, this is the year Albus comes to Hogwarts! I shall carry on where the Dark Lord left off!" She cackled and Bellatrix burst out of her house to the nearest beauty salon.
The receptionist, without looking up yawned and asked, "Do you have an appointment?" Bellatrix didn't say anything, but glared at him long enough that he put down his magazine and looked up. His eyes bulged out of his head at the mere sight of her. Bellatrix Black was talk of the village. People claimed to see things floating around her house, some say she's a witch, and it doesn't do one well to anger a witch. Bellatrix smiled at the man's thoughts.
"I guess it's good I'm leaving this festering wound called a village." She thought to herself. "I need red streaks, crimson, like blood. Can you people do that?" Bellatrix glowered at the receptionist.
"I-I-don't think it will be a p-problem madam." He jumped out of his chair and ran into the back, reappearing a moment later. "Right this way!"
I know what you're thinking, why is Bellatrix Black tainting her notorious tresses with muggle chemicals? Because no one expects it, that's why. Everyone thinks she's dead, but someone's bound to recognize that stark black head of hair. The notorious Bellatrix Black, would never dye, which is exactly why she had to.
Bellatrix sat down in an uncomfortable leather chair while some Faux-French stylist raked his fingers through her hair. "I hear you want crimson hmm? Nice choice. I was thinking we could straighten it, cut off some of this length an-" Bellatrix was up in a flash with her arm around his neck.
"Don't. Cut. My. Hair." She said fiercely. "Okay? And it stays curly."
"Y-yes mam, I'm sorry for suggesting it!" He stammered.
"Good. Now, what's your name anyways?" Bellatrix mentally kicked herself for asking; he's going to think she actually cares.
"Jean-Luc madam." He said quietly.
"Hmm… okay John. And please don't call me madam, Ms. Black will suffice." She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes.
An hour and a half later Bellatrix was admiring her reflection in the salon's dingy mirror. Her hair was shinier and more full of life than it has been since before Azkaban all those years ago. Somehow she looked younger too. She smirked and dropped some Icelandic Króna on the counter and strolled out the door. Bellatrix walked back to her house and walked into her room. "Accio Luggage." Her truck shot out of her wardrobe. "Pack." All of Bellatrix's clothes came out of her closet and folded themselves neatly into her trunk. Bellatrix smiled to herself. "Wonderful."
Bellatrix spun in place and a dark cloud came around her as she apparated to the airport. She strutted up to the IcelandAir desk and stated "London, the next flight."
"England or Ontario miss?" Bellatrix scoffed.
"Listen to the sound of my voice, do I sound like I'm from-" she shuttered "Canada?"
"No, no I'm sorry miss! The next flight is in 45 minutes, do you have your passport?"
"Of course I have my passport you half-wit!" She opened up her carry-on bag and smacked her burgundy passport on the counter. "Now, if you're done with your ridiculous questions, I want a first class seat with express check in." The IcelandAir representative stared at Bellatrix with a mix of fear and disgust.
"It isn't a straight flight, you'll have to go through Newfoundland Canada, is that okay? The direct flight is booked."
Bellatrix glowered; she didn't have time for this. "Then kick someone else off!" She dropped 1000 Icelandic Krónas on the counter. "Does that help?"
The attendant looked down. "Oh, it seems a first class seat has just opened up on the direct flight. Will that be cash, cheque or credit?"
"Cash."
"That's 685 Krónas." Bellatrix flipped through the rest of her Icelandic Currency and dropped it all on the counter.
"Keep the change, I don't plan on coming back."
"Alright miss, have a good flight!" The attendant shouted as Bellatrix walked away. "What a vile woman…" she said to herself.
Bellatrix heard her and said under her breath "Crucio" and heard the IcelandAir attendant scream out in pain and she reached the gate.
She sat down in row 2B and asked the flight attendant for a glass of champagne. She returned promptly and gave a slight curtsy. "Word travels fast I guess." She muttered to herself.
She raised her glass to no one in particular "Here's to new beginnings." She whispered and knocked back her champagne.
The plane took off and Bellatrix instantly got a headache. "Damn muggle travelling." She thought and murmured "Silencio" and mercifully it worked on the jet engines, making the cabin quiet as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
A/N: Please R&R, let me know how I can improve and if I'm staying true to character. Really, any feedback is welcome. The next chapter should be up by the middle to end of this week.