Chapter 1
Bella looked at the picture of her son Harry, the one taken on the day he was born. Young Harry sleeps in his mother's arms as the photographed Bella smiles at whoever was taking the picture. She shifted restlessly in her prison cell. It had been 14 years since she'd been sent to Azkaban, and she still missed her son.
-flashback-
Bellatrix Lestrange looked down at her newborn son, cooing. Pure joy filled her brittle, broken, and hurting heart. She'd been hurting for so long, but this child, her child, gave her a strange sense of hope. The father's green eyes peered over her shoulder, and he said, "This boy will be a terrific Death Eater."
And it was then that Bella realized that she could not keep her own child, for her son could not be a Death Eater. He couldn't go through what she went through. Her son had to remain hidden.
For a few weeks, she kept her son, Harry, hidden in her own house. But eventually she realized with a pang of sorrow that she had to let her son go. So she went outside and searched for someone, anyone, who could protect him. That's when she found a couple that seemed just right. The father looked quite a bit like Bella, and the mother had her son's green eyes. She went up to them and explained the whole story. They were very understanding and even introduced themselves as Mr. James and Mrs. Lily Potter. They accepted the baby, promising to write at least once a month and saying that the woman, Lily, had in fact been pregnant, but the child was stillborn. That was the last time Bella ever saw her son.
-flashback ends-
Bella opened her secret pocket on the inside of her clothes and stared at all the pictures of her son. She'd gotten one once a month, just like the Potters had promised. Bella wept openly, remembering how she'd been sick the day the Dark Lord had told his followers he was going to kill the young Harry Potter. If only she'd been there, she could have saved him! Perhaps she could have convinced the Dark Lord that he had the wrong wizard, anything! When Harry had died… That was when Bella decided she wanted nothing to do with killing, never again.
Bella had never liked killing anyways. She remembered her father, training her to join 'the Dark Lord's noble army'. He'd captured a stray cat and demanded that she kill it. Poor Bella had tried to refuse, but her father pestered her so much that she cried out the curse, just to get him to stop talking. She remembered how she'd sobbed then, clutching the dead cat in her arms and rocking back and forth as her father spat at her, calling her an idiot. Suddenly a cold, dead sensation came over the woman. She knew that feeling. That was the trademark of the dementors, the guards of Azkaban. A dementor unlocked her door and Bella ran out, free at last, laughing crazily.