Hello people. So today I was going through some old documents and I realized I never posted chapter 10. I have no idea how it slipped my mind...seriously it's been sitting in my files for months now. So sorry for about that. Hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 10

The night sky was vast, empty. The countless stars that were up there (somewhere) hid under a blanket of city lights, artificial and cold. Snow-filled wind swept along the stretch of little town houses, scattering icy dry powder across the glowing windows, unable to reach the warmth within.

Dense, suffocating silence pressing in from every corner; there was nothing to do about it. Like an incurable disease, thinking about the pain could only make it worse. Silence was a disease that crept up without evident symptoms. But silence had never crept up on them. It had always been there. It had no beginning (and no end). Now they were so submerged in it that it was almost welcomed. Who wanted to think about a disease? Who wanted confront reality?

(Not them)

The house was colorless, lacking of personality. There were portraits and paintings on the walls but they lacked originality, familiarity. The photos hanging on the walls and sitting on shelves were too perfect, almost as if they had been taken to be placed in store frames; images of happy (soulless) families who were made up of actors who had only just met minutes ago. The walls were narrow, without color or life. If walls could talk…what story would they tell? What would they say?

(Nothing)

Three lone figures sat around a long clean polished table, a plate sitting before each of them. The man was tall and thin. His thick glasses caught the image of his wife and daughter, the glow of the candles, the steam rising from the food, the glimmer of the polished utensils, and reflected them before they had a chance to catch his attention. The woman was short and frail, lips pinched into a resolute silence. They hardly seemed to open even as she brought the fork to her mouth. She chewed in perfect silence, eyes traveling aimlessly around the room as if she were examining someone else's house. They ate quickly, methodically. They didn't want to sit there. They didn't want to be there. They didn't want to be together.

(But she did)

At the center of this family portrait sat a small girl, silently shoveling potatoes into her mouth as her gaze flitted from one face to another, pleased to be in their company. She was dressed nicely, wearing a pretty blue dress and a matching necklace she had received last Christmas. But she had to be honest with herself; nobody would have cared had she come wearing her pajamas. It was only Christmas dinner after all; the only difference was the nice ("expensive" her father would say) dinner – and the presence of her parents.

"Next year you'll be spending Christmas at Hogwarts, won't you Alice?" Her father asked mildly without tearing his eyes from his plate.

It was a conversation starter. He might as well have mentioned the weather or their favorite Quidditch team. Hogwarts was but a mere topic for them…like Christmas…like family.

Alice swallowed hard and smiled. She did not care if his interest was genuine or not. She did not dig deep into her own thoughts. She did not attempt to read unmasked emotions in their eyes. It felt so much more real that way; just believing that they really wanted to be there, that they really wanted to be her parents.

"No" She dropped her fork and prepared to make the most of the words that would be thrown at her shortly. She could gather them up after supper, alone in her room, and store them away for other days. "Marlene told me we can go home during Christmas vacation. That's what everybody does."

There was short silence during which her father processed her answer. And then his hand hovered over his plate. Hesitant…

"But you're not obliged to leave the school?"

Alice dropped her eyes back to her plate, smile never wavering. 'Pretend Alice…you're good at that…'

"No we don't have to."

xxx

Many strange things had occurred in Hogwarts over the numerous years but Rabastan couldn't think of anything stranger than Bellatrix sitting at the Gryffindor table, having a civil conversation with Alice Thompson. Yes that's right: Bellatrix and Alice were talking.

Rabastan actually froze in the doorway of the Great Hall when he had spotted them. Obviously Bellatrix hadn't seen him or he doubted that the ostracized witch would be so willing to publicly display her connection to Alice. As he stood there, he couldn't help but notice that something was different about Bellatrix. Her hair, which had once fell down her back in a fury of wild black curls, now sat one her shoulders in a surprisingly attractive new cut. Her face had changed as well. Her cheeks, always so pale and unhealthy looking, glowed pink and her eyes were lit up with a foreign gleam that might have been associated with happiness. She actually looked contented.

As for Alice, Rabastan couldn't see her face from the entrance but he guessed from experience that she was smiling. Typical Alice; always determined to show how perfect and happy she was compared to everyone else. He could only think of the sort of things she must have made up to get Bellatrix to spend time with her. Those damned "nouveau sang", as Rabastan's parents and their friends liked to call them, were always trying to associate themselves with the ancient pureblooded families. And Bellatrix, so desperate to have friends, had obviously eaten the lies up.

'Stupid girl…' Rabastan sighed, deciding that it would be up to him to save the witch once more from her ignorance. It really was no wonder she had been placed in Gryffindor.

He strolled over to the girls with that casual air of his. He tucked his hands into his robe pockets and stuck out his disappointingly skinny chest, copying that air of confidence his brother always used when he wanted to inspire respect.

The second those intimidating onyx eyes rose to meet his, Bellatrix instantly stiffened and shut her mouth tightly in mid-sentence. Feeling something amiss, Alice glanced around, quickly spotting the object of her companion's attention. They both waited in silence as Rabastan crossed the remaining distance and stopped right in front of the Gryffindor table, wrinkling his nose in disgust as his eyes traveled over Alice's intrigued expression.

"What are you doing here, Lestrange?" Alice asked, brow creased and head slightly cocked to one side.

"I might ask you the same question." Rabastan turned to Bellatrix, ignoring Alice altogether. The pureblooded witch was also frowning, eyes carefully calculating the situation like a fox deciding whether the hunter had left or not.

"She's having dinner can't you tell?"

"Yes I can. The problem is she's having it with you."

The Gryffindor laughed.

"Why does that bother you? Jealous?"

Rabastan reeled around, glaring at his enemy.

"You better shut your mouth if you know what's good-"

"You know…I can speak for myself."

Rabastan and Alice simultaneously turned towards Bellatrix, their mouths hanging open. The witch stared back at them, surprisingly fearless in the face of the cruel Slytherin. While Alice stared at her companion expectantly, Rabastan glared at her, already irritated.

Bellatrix stared at them for a brief moment, wondering what to say and how to say it. She didn't exactly know what to say. She didn't even remember what they were fighting about. She was simply curious as to why they were fighting over her. Didn't Rabastan hate her? Or had he finally seen the error of his ways and decided to apologize? Surely that must have been it because his eyes didn't seem as sharp as cold as they had on their last meeting

"Just say why you're here, Rabastan." Bellatrix said at last.

"And then get out of here." Alice added under her breath, dropping her gaze to the plate in front of her.

Rabastan sniffed and pointedly ignored Alice's comment. "A Black shouldn't be fraternizing with someone like Thompson…even if you are a Gryffindor."

Bellatrix cocked her head and frowned, opening her mouth to question his odd behavior when he hurried to further explain.

"What I mean is that hanging out with someone like her will only make her feel self-important…and we definitely don't need that. I'm not going to suffer you're stupid mistakes."

Alice shot out of her chair, outraged, but made no move for her wand. Picking a fight was much more manageable in a crowded area where everyone had a wand and a willingness to play an innocent prank or do harm to another. The fact that they were the only people in the Great Hall made it far too risky to perform magic without a teacher catching them.

So Alice simply stood for a moment, glaring at her Slytherin opponent with bawled fists and a wrinkled nose. But when she noticed the Charms teacher seating himself down at the teacher's table, she followed his example and sat down once more.

"Leave my family out of this, Lestrange." She said. "What's the real reason you're here? What do you want from us?"

"I'm not here for you." Rabastan sneered at her.

He glanced around swiftly, his dark eyes running over the empty Slytherin table before looking back at the peculiar raven-haired witch with a smirk. He sat down next to Alice and bent forward to confide to Bellatrix in a low voice.

"There's something I want to get from the library…in the restricted section." He said carefully stretched the last words.

Bellatrix said nothing but stared at him with careful calculating eyes. There was a newfound caution in those endless black pits that had not been there before. It fascinated Rabastan just as much as it troubled him. Like it or not, Bellatrix had never been all that careful. Anyone would come to the same conclusion had they really paid attention. She built up all her naive hopes and dreams based on what others told her and remained painfully stubborn even when the world around her was proving the contrary. And in a strange unlike Black way, Bellatrix placed her trust in people before she even knew who they truly were. Rabastan knew. In some ways, they were the same.

But something had changed in Bellatrix. Rabastan couldn't quite put his finger on it but he knew she had reached her limit. Somewhere between the starting of Christmas vacation and now, she had finally accepted the overwhelming feeling of betrayal burning in the back of her mind.

Rabastan waited but still she did not say anything.

"So…" He sighed, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head. "If you're not a coward, you'll come too."

"Why would she? What will she get out of going with you?" Alice frowned. "You'll just betray her like your lot always does."

"Like you have any idea what "our lot" are like." Rabastan snapped, once again attacking Alice the moment she spoke.

Alice laughed. "Oh I've had plenty of occasions to see what you're like."

Bellatrix watched this exchange in silence, her black eyes riveting between the opponents with careful caution. It hardly showed to anyone around, but Bellatrix's heart was pounding at a frightening speed against her ribcage.

So this was it. This was what it was like to feel limitless. It was…terrifying. To feel like the choice was truly hers. There was nobody behind her, slipping a yoke into place and holding fast to the reigns as she fought against the bondage. It didn't feel like she was sinking without knowing what was weighing her down. For once she saw clearly.

She saw Rabastan Lestrange in his carefully tailored Slytherin robes, a green badge gleaming like cool silver under the early morning light. His eyes too, were cool. They glittered faintly with untapped potential and intelligence. In some ways, they reminded her own before she had woken up from her carefully weaved illusion and realized that she had been betrayed. They were controlled; a well-bred expression of superiority and confidence that would make any simpleton shiver. In other ways, they were nothing like hers. Never, even in the previous months, had Bellatrix reduced herself to the point where she felt nothing. She had felt anger and anguish to the point where she thought she might die from it all; but never nothing. Passion was what Bellatrix thrived on. From her earliest memories to the present moment, she had always felt that familiar hunger, whether for someone, some dream, some power. But never nothing.

Rabastan felt nothing for everything. She could see it plainly. There was nothing that made his heart beat with the same fierceness Bellatrix's did. There was nothing that could make him want to fight on his own accord. Perhaps there truly was nothing worth feeling for. Perhaps Rabastan already had everything. Or perhaps he was too afraid to allow himself to feel. Perhaps he was so terrified his subconscious was telling him he felt nothing.

She then turned to Alice and saw the young witch dressed in creased Gryffindor robes, the blazing red and gold symbol of her house shining brightly against the black sea of fabric. Her eyes, if possible, were brighter. They burned fiercely with brashness and life to the point where it was almost irritating to look at. Again, Bellatrix recognized similar traits between their looks. She saw the fire that lit up the black pupils and the desperate need to be recognized. She saw that determination to succeed in what mattered most to her. But again, Bellatrix was (thankfully) able to find differences between them as well. Bellatrix, unlike Alice, was the product of a long running line of pureblood unions. Now of course that meant enhanced magical potential but it also meant the proper breeding that came with the title. To be a pureblood meant to be never a peace, always hungry, always calculating.

Alice was constantly trusting, naïve and content with the majority of her life. She took each day as it came and was never prepared for if (when) disaster struck. It was almost as if she was willingly turning a blind eye on the evils of this world, something Bellatrix could never do, not when the world was waiting to see her fail. Alice did not notice the threats that lurked around every corner. She trusted her friends blindly, just as she was now trusting Bellatrix. It almost made the young Black laugh at the thought; Alice was placing herself in Bellatrix's hands…

Bellatrix looked upon both of them, eyes flickering from on to the other. The fight raged on between them, like flying daggers narrowly missing their marks. A warm feeling seeped into every pore in her body as she thought of her situation. It was a strange feeling but not one foreign to her, simply dearly missed. There was strength in her body. She felt power as she thought of their weaknesses. Rabastan's lack of passion and Alice's foolish naivety…

Now all she had to do was decide how she could make the most of this situation. Who would help her achieve her goals? Almost the moment she pondered that question did she have the answer. It was as clear to her as her own reflection in their wide glossy eyes.

Finally, Bellatrix spoke.

"Alice, stop nagging as if you know everything." She sighed, leaning back in her chair and bracing herself to look at Alice's expression. "If I want to go do something worthwhile of my time, I will. Stop trying to turn me into one of your kind."

She then turned to look at Rabastan quickly before she could catch sight of the horrified look in Alice's large blue eyes. "I'm coming with you to the Library. I was bored anyways."

Rabastan smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, also leaning back in his chair as if he had expected this outcome since the beginning.

"Like you'd dare refuse." He said.

"Bellatrix what are you talking about?" Alice leaned forward and spoke in a low hiss. "Rabastan's not your friend! He's been treating you horribly ever since you've joined our House."

"Let it be, Thompson." Rabastan let out an exaggerated sigh, already standing to leave.

"Shut it, Lestrange!" Alice turned on Rabastan once more, her voice, if possible, containing more venom than before. "You're nothing but a filthy hypocrite! There's no way Bellatrix will go with you-"

"Whatever gave you the idea that you had the right to vouch for me? We're not friends so stop fooling yourself."

Alice mouth froze in mid-sentence and she turned to look at Bellatrix, blue eyes swimming with shock and hurt. And then, slowly, her expression of helplessness melted away. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth pulled into a thin line and she stood.

"Fine I'm tired of trying anyways." She hissed, glancing down at the witch before looking at her Slytherin companion with distaste. "You're just as bad as the rest of them."

xxxx

"You're sure you know what you're doing, Lestrange?" Bellatrix hissed for the fifth time, popping her head around the edge of the shelf.

The pair of mischief-seeking children hid in the library as the ancient, fowl-smelling librarian prowled the book-filled room, almost as if she could instinctively smell trouble-in-the-making. They crouched low behind a bookshelf, creeping around on the balls of their feet in an awkward sort of manner.

Rabastan was quick to shush her, also peering through the cracks between the volumes in order to catch brief glimpses of the woman. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his eyes were narrowed in thought. He had resumed gnawing at the inner flesh of his lip, an action that inexplicably irritated Bellatrix.

They had made it successfully into the library without its guardian catching sight of either one of them. Making it into the restricted section wouldn't be as easy. The large doors blocking students from countless dark secrets and dangerous knowledge were conveniently positioned near the librarian's desk. There was no way they could reach them without some sort of disruption distracting the old woman for a minute or two.

"Okay…" Rabastan whispered, turning his head briefly to look the witch at his side. "Here's the plan. You're going to distract the old squib long enough for me to get through those doors. Make lots of noise in the opposite direction or rip a page or something."

"What? That's your plan? How am I going to get into the Restricted section?"

Rabastan sighed, a little loudly, and ducked his head as two piercing eyes shot a quizzical look in their direction.

"You're not, obviously. I'll grab the book and bring it out so that you can have a look when I'm done."

Bellatrix's eyes blazed.

"There is no bloody way I'm doing that. Why don't you distract her and I'll go inside. I've never seen the Restricted Section anyways. I want to see what it's like."

"I came up with idea, Black. Anyways I want to see what it's like too."

Bellatrix gawked at him.

"You mean you haven't even been in the Restricted section? But you told me in detention that you have!"

The sound of footsteps instantly silenced the two purebloods, both crouching lower as the librarian made her round of the library for the second time in ten minutes. Bellatrix decided that she desperately needed to find herself a hobby. As the old woman drew closer, they stood silently and pressed their backs to the side of the shelf furthest from her, and waited until she returned to her seat.

"I did but I never got very far." Rabastan continued in a hush tone as they crouched back down. "I never got the chance to explore it properly. But my brother says it's worth looking into. He's been in the Restricted Section. Professor Slughorn lets him do whatever he likes…besides I want to find my book."

Bellatrix simply gave him another harsh look, irritated with the way things had turned out. There they were, huddled low with a filthy old squib keeping them from their goal. Why hadn't they thought out a proper plan before embarking on this preposterous mission?

Bellatrix could picture Alice in the back of her mind, laughing and saying: "I told you so." She cringed. There was no way she was not getting through those doors.

"Alright." She murmured. "I have a plan. It may not be a very good one. It may be a little risky but…it's the only one we've got so I don't want to hear one word from you."

Rabastan instantly straightened and narrowed his eyes, preparing to contradict her. But Bellatrix was quick to continue so that he couldn't interrupt her without raising his voice and alerting the librarian.

"You see that boy studying over there? Well he's going to cause the distraction for us. Don't look like that! It's simple! We just have to use a simple levitation spell, that's all. The moment she leaves her desk, we hurry to the door. Got it?"

Rabastan nodded, glancing nervously at the library's guardian.

Bellatrix pulled out her wand from her robes pocket, holding it carefully in her hand for a moment as if she were afraid the sudden presence of the magical tool would draw the librarian to them. But after a moment of total silence, nothing had happened and the young witch felt slightly more confident about her plan.

She turned on her heels so that she could get a better view of the older Ravenclaw who was poured over a spell book further to the back of the library. Mentally going over the steps, Bellatrix narrowed her eyes in concentration.

"Wingardium Leviosa." She murmured, ending the spell with a sharp flick of her wand.

She immediately felt a subtle tension in her wand as it took an invisible hold on the first book to catch her attention. She nearly let a laugh escape her mouth as she sent the book flying off the Ravenclaw's desk and onto the floor with a loud thump. That alone would have been enough to have the librarian red with furry but Bellatrix decided that it couldn't hurt to take extra precautions. She swiftly began targeting every book on the shelf behind the boy, pulling them off their perch and letting gravity do the rest.

Bellatrix and Rabastan sprinted for the restricted section the moment the librarian brushed past them, her eyes fixed on the boy gapping incredulously at the pile of books lying on the floor. All they heard was her hysteric screeches and the student's desperate pleas as they shut the door behind them. The poor Ravenclaw never stood a chance.

xxx

The restricted section, at first glance, was like the other half of the library. Shelves upon shelves of ancient books were sitting, waiting to be discovered. Some of them were so old that even the librarian could not save them from a slow death; jackets slowly falling apart, pages hanging dangerously from the binding, dust accumulating on the ominous titles. But when one looked closely one could easily tell that this was no ordinary library. Titles promising horrendous dark secrets whispered to them from every shelf and Bellatrix felt the irresistible pull of their promises. More than once did she stop to inspect a book more closely, ignoring Rabastan's impatient complaints.

As they made their way through the dark room, Bellatrix could feel her heart pound with increasing strength in her chest, almost like the strong steady beat of a war drum drawing closer with every step. All the untouched magic…the potential hidden between those decaying pages! It hurt her to think that none of these books would find an owner worthy of their content.

Once again a deep burning hate churned in her stomach as the thought of how Dumbledore was keeping all those books locked up and hidden from the students, almost as if he wished them to remain ignorant for their entire lives.

Now Bellatrix realized that she had past some unspoken test, she hadn't given in and ignored the pull of knowledge and power even though the world around her had tried to keep it from her. And she would employ it to her own benefit.

"Here it is."

Bellatrix looked behind her at the frozen figure of Rabastan Lestrange, a large volume in hand. He was scanning through the pages, his look of exasperation and ennui suddenly replaced with an intent stare that reminded Bellatrix of his older brother.

As Rabastan drew closer to the center of the book, he slowed down, carefully reading the title of certain pages before flicking the page. At last, he came to a full stop.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked in a low voice, drawing up behind him and peering over his shoulder at the page that had caught his attention. A single word written in elegant calligraphy struck her attention: Occlumency.

"Occlumency? That's what you're going to study Lestrange? Why on earth would you need that?"

Rabastan, pulled from his silent pondering, snapped the book shut so that the title gleamed golden under the soft candle light: "Practical Spells for the Great and Powerful, Vol. I"

Bellatrix froze for only a fraction of a second, her heart twisting into a knot at the sight of the promising title. Jealousy bubbled in her chest like some great leviathan clawing to be freed. The great and powerful… That was meant to be her dream. Rabastan had no right dreaming the same dreams. He shouldn't be allowed to believe that he could beat her in anything. Even if he was a Slytherin and she a-

"The Great and Powerful?" Bellatrix laughed scornfully, ceasing the book from Rabastan's grasp. "You're a powerful wizard?"

"More powerful than you'll ever be, filthy Gryffindor scum." Rabastan spat as he yanked the book out of her hands. But she was quick to hold on to the end once more before it was out of her reach. And now both students held part of the book, glaring at each other. Both were unwilling to let go.

And then, like the ominous calling of a crow in a blood-red dawn, Bellatrix began to cackle, almost as if she knew something Rabastan did not. The Slytherin could not keep his skin from tingling at the sound of that strange laughter.

"Fine." She snarled, pushing back the book harshly and slamming it into Rabastan's chest. "Learn you're pretty little magic trick if you like. Too bad magic such as Occlumency will be associated with the likes of you or I might have studied it myself. But as it happens, I do not follow the ideas of others. I'll just have to find my own powerful magic to obtain, something that can be used for other uses than simply defence."

"Oh like what?" Rabastan sneered, wrapping his arms around the book and holding it to his chest in an almost protective manner. "All you know is petty 1st year magic because no one, not even your family, bothers to teach you more. The fact that you're in Gryffindor simply seals your fate. There's no bright future for the likes of you. Why waster energy when you will never achieve greatness?"

Bellatrix laughed again, the sound was tainted with scorn and her eyes blazed with hate.

"I don't need others to teach me things I can learn on my own."

She turned towards the bookshelf and yanked out the book that had been sitting peacefully next to Rabastan's: "Practical Spells for the Great and Powerful, Vol. 2"

"Just wait, I'll learn an amazing spell that you could never dream of mastering."

Bellatrix looked down at the heavy bounded book and knew she was on the right track to recognition.

xxx

Bellatrix lay in bed, a warm woolen blanket pulled up to her chest. Her body was slowly being pulled into a living sense of peace as the heat and comfort of her bed worked its magic. Her mind, on the other hand, was hard at work, buzzing ceaselessly with hundreds of thoughts.

Oddly enough, her fight with Rabastan did not bother her in the way it would have a couple months ago. She could hardly say that she was angry with him nor was she angry with herself for expanding the space between her and her rightful house. Somehow she was beginning to understand that the more noise she made – the more present she was, the more they would think of her and come to fear her.

Alice had thought her that. Alice who would not let and insisted on being constantly kind to the brooding Gryffindor, was the same Alice Bellatrix found herself thinking of as she entered the Common Room, the same Alice she looked for as she entered their bedroom. And as much as it infuriated her, she couldn't help but feel that Rabastan, Evan and soon the others would think of her looming shadow, they would come to accept her as one of their own.

"No...no...pathetic...how is that even practical?"

But to be accepted as someone worth paying attention, she had to first prove herself. Nothing like some ancient dark magic to do the trick…

But, she skimmed through the book; her newfound excitement was slowly disintegrating into the cold winter air. Most of the spells found within the pages of this book were nowhere near as amazing as Rabastan's. She couldn't beat him with such simple magic. But the ones that made Bellatrix's skin tingle with fear and fascination were impossible without Dumbledore or a teacher noticing. She doubted the Headmaster wouldn't start asking questions if one of the students mysteriously lost a limb.

And then, as she was just about to shut the book, an image caught her eye and the exasperated sigh froze in her throat.

"That's it." She murmured, eyes scanning the title and leaning forward. "That's what I'll learn..."

Small images, printed in old black and white, danced across the pages, inspiring Bellatrix and filling her dreams. At the foot of the first page, three tiny men chased another one, wands in hand. As the hunted man reached the other side of the page, cornered against the page number (258), he began to change, slowly growing in size with hair sprouting from his arms and face. The clothes ripped under the strain and he burst free from the fabric. And before the attackers knew what had happened, a great black bear was slashing at them with its mighty claws.

Another image showed a witch being tied to a pyre by an angry mob. They brandished crude weapons and torches in their hands as they watched the witch standing passively. One man brought a torch to the stack of wood on which the witch was standing on and lit the wood, setting the whole on fire. The flames slowly began climbing the stack, drawing closer to the witch, almost shielding her from the mob's eyes. And then suddenly a great black crow sprang forth from the flames and flew up high into the sky. The mob turned to watched it disappear on the horizon. Only when they looked back at the flaming pyre did they realize the witch was gone.

"Animagi…"