Part 2 act 6 or Chapter 13
I know a man in London town
who works to tidy rooms
he's got no wife, he sweeps in strife
and curses in the gloom
but when the witch's sabbath comes
his broom's a nifty toy
then there's a lad who's very bad
yes, he's a naughty boy
See, a fellow down in Blocksberg says
he sees him once a year
he flies to fray so muggles pray
the Lord to keep their fear
for his cocoon of dark and gloom
makes witching kind go wild
he's not so sad once they've been had
and he's had one and all
'The Witch Hunter' traditional wizarding rhyme as collected by Bridget Crabbe and published in 'Lewd poems collected' in 1895, where it is noted male interlopers to Walpurgis night has been a popular erotic theme for centuries. It is also noted the poem suggests a lower rank in society perhaps being common for wizarding kind prior to seclusion.
...
November 28 2003
It seemed brighter. It was November, of course, so not very bright but still... it seemed brighter. Warmer. Her head wasn't hurting and she could feel the rumbling of her belly. When she stretched her limbs out while laying in her bed (the softness of which she could feel), the muscles and tendons seemed to quiver and stretch and... be satisfied?
She laid in bed longer than usual as the warmth of her blanket enveloped her and reached into her muscles all the way to her bones, radiating heat through her whole body. She could feel her heart beat in a pleasant sort of way, could feel her whole body in fact, and it was entirely free of any pains or aches.
What an odd thing indeed.
Her robes felt soft against her skin, lending a weighty solidity her undergarments simply did not aid her with in the chill, grounding her. Her braies were a bit large these days and she could feel her thighs touching one another when she sat down– her skin felt impossibly soft. The creases of the edge of her chemise tickled the bottom of her hips, just below the waist of the braies.
The lightness of her body followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen – where her keeper was cooking for them (the irony of which was not lost on her).
All in all, everything seemed rather well.
She could remember, if she concentrated, the sounds birds make in Spring. While sipping on a warm cup of coffee she closed her eyes and did just that. Her captor, who seemed to stand a little taller and be a bit fuller and more softly outlined to her eyes, reached a plate over to her before sitting across from her at the table. She could smell the grease in the air and almost as clearly she could smell the floral tinge of her captors shampoo – the clean smell of someone freshly bathed wafting off her in waves. It made the room seem friendly and warm. It was just a horrid morning in early winter but for all her senses told her it could be summer, really.
Oh, it was a beautiful morning to be alive, Bellatrix decided. The mudblood had come through on her end of the bargain - now Bellatrix would hold up hers.
...
January 1982, Auror Office – Azkaban division, Berwick-upon-Tweed, England
'I've gained quite the reputation and I see no reason not to capitalize on it, sir. I am guilty, after all.'
'But why the Longbottoms, eh? What're you really after, Lestrange?'
'The Dark Lord will return, Auror Proudfoot, and I am not afraid.'
'That's not an answer.' he sighed heavily, 'Fine, let's get this show started, then. Do you deny the torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom leading to their permanent incapacitation?'
'Absolutely not.'
'Well, feel free to elaborate.'
'We thought Longbottom had information. His wife was brought on as collateral when he proved... indecisive about sharing with us what he knew.'
'That simple, eh? Go on.'
'We had taken in Barty after the Dark Lord disappeared because he was so distraught. He is, after all, terribly young. So I took him on our mission.'
'You planned it?'
'I did indeed.'
'Well, go on then.'
'I kidnapped Frank Longbottom and his wife and tortured them. Satisfied?'
'Why now? You have never been indicated, you were not suspected of any involvement. I find it difficult to believe you'd just go on this mission without any decisive proof – you've risked everything for nothing. You're not telling me the whole story.'
'That is the whole story. I am loyal to the Dark Lord and I stand to gain everything. He'll come for me. I've lost nothing.'
'He Who Must Not Be Named is gone. He's dead.'
'He's alive. He'll be back. I know it.'
'Right. So. What is your involvement with He Who Must Not be Named? How long has it been going on?'
'Longer than you could possibly be thinking.'
'And the nature of your involvement...?'
'Of the utmost importance.'
...
1960 Black Family Estate
'This is our family crest, Bellatrix. Tojours Pur means always pure.' Orion pointed to the elegant lettering on the crest.
'Why is that our motto?' Bellatrix bites on her thumb thoughtfully as she pulls on her fathers' hand. Orion considered for a moment, before he gifted her a warm, bright smile.
'It is our motto because it reveals something of importance to the family. What it reveals is that you are exceptional, my darling. You see, we are a family of extraordinary magic. It is in our blood. As you grow you will notice that we Blacks tend to have remarkable ability and power. You will meet, unfortunately, a great many ignorant people who will attempt to convince you this power isn't because of our blood, that it is entirely coincidental. But let me assure you, darling, that it is not a coincidence. The Black family does extraordinary things, and we hold extraordinary power. Our motto serves as a reminder that this must be preserved. It is important to remember always that power and wealth are to be managed, Bellatrix, not used and spent for fleeting pleasure or glory. We must preserve the heritage given to us by our ancestors. We must strengthen the magical blood that flows in our veins. Tojours Pur, my darling. Always pure – in all things. It is our gift, and it is our burden, to forge the most powerful magical blood we possibly can. Whatever people say, we have put it out for all to see in our motto.'
...
February 1982, Azkaban, North Sea
She shouted down the hall so Barty could hear, finally, what the mistake had been. Or, at least, the mistake she was willing to divulge. Here, in a cell waiting to be taken for a hearing the could finally speak privately.
'They did not end up in the state they are now because we tortured them too much. I know they knew something. They must have passed it along to Dumbledore, they must have been under Fidelius. The incapacitation they've experienced was likely caused by the Cruciatis and the Fidelius tearing their minds apart, or some botched memory charm. No one would be able to withstand answering a question in the state they were in, but I still believe they had the information!'
...
December 4, 2003 excerpt from interview by Unspeakable Granger for mrs. Lestranges hearing and deposition, read into the record on March 15 2004
'A lot of people think it's a family matter, but let me make it clear now that it is not. My father left the Knights of Walpurgis once they started taking a firmer line. He was an isolationist through and through and believed the mudbloods posed a security threat. He thought my Aunt and Uncle were insane to not give up living in the middle of Muggle London. No, my father wasn't about to assert his right to have the entirety of Britain available for magical people. It was all about keeping us safe from the muggles by never letting our paths cross.'
'What was he afraid of, do you suppose?'
'They don't like witches, he said. They'd kill us if given the chance.
When Andromeda ran away my father showed me photographs of muggle death camps. He told me that's what Muggles do to people they don't like. They don't have magic and they make it up in violence. Historically speaking there has never been a time where they liked us. He impressed upon me to keep away from them at all times. Never show them my magic if I could help it, he said. Never show them that I existed at all, in fact, if it could be avoided. Andromeda would lead a miserable life, he said.'
'Did your father introduce you to the Dark Lord?'
'Haven't you been listening? They didn't take the same line at all. My point is simply that I grew up in a very... restricted world. The boundaries were very clearly drawn up. It was painfully obvious that I was imprisoned in the wizarding world and that muggles ruled the outside world and the Ministry only had the muggles' protection at heart, not mine. Like most of the purebloods I've met in my life, and I've met nearly all of them, I was guarded and fearful as a child.
Now, while I was growing up the Dark Lord was gaining quite a bit of influence in the Knights of Walpurgis. My father left the organization, though the resignation was mostly symbolic as the more militant branch soon after broke off into their own organization, and the Knights folded. The Dark Lord was gaining mastery over the Dark Arts, and wished to build a new world order in which magical people needn't fear the muggles at all. As I'm sure you're aware, the militant branch of the Knights therefore called themselves the Death Eaters, in reference to their joined mission of mastering the Dark Arts and gaining a larger magical homeland. They would push the boundaries of magic, and the boundaries of the Wizarding World, devouring all obstacles. The muggles would know our power, they wouldn't dare interfere any longer! They would be punished, finally, for their insolence and their ignorance and for their cruelty. I met the Dark Lord years later, through mutual acquaintances.'
...
1958 Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London England
'See, this is our family.' Aunt Walburga was smiling at her.
'All of these people are our family?'
Bellatrix stared wide-eyed at the tapestry that took up a whole wall in her aunt and uncle's house. Everyone in it was staring down at her impressively.
'How come I've never met them?' she asked while studying the portrait of a man named Arcturus.
'Well, you've met some of them, dear. And the rest are long gone. This shows people who came before us. The parents of our parents and so on, do you see?'
Auntie Walburga pointed towards the top of the tapestry. Bellatrix nodded. 'I... I think so.'
Auntie looked at her in an understanding sort of way.
'This here, see, is you.' Auntie pointed at a picture of her that had a caption Bellatrix Black 'And this is Andromeda and Narcissa.' Bellatrix nodded as her aunt pointed out her sisters, 'And this is your mother and father, this is me, there's uncle Orion and aunt Lucretia and uncle Ignatius.'
Bellatrix recognized all of them. Aunt Walburga continued, 'and you see here is your grandfather and grandmother. And all of these people', she pointed to another part of the tapestry in a sweeping motion, 'you might have seen at family gatherings. They're the brothers and sisters and cousins of your grandfather. The ones over there are your great grandparents and their siblings. You've met great aunt Belvina and great uncle Arcturus, haven't you?' Bellatrix nodded.
'Well, over them is their parents. Of course, they're dead. See, the further up the tapestry you go, the older everyone is. So once you get high enough up everyone is so old they are dead.' Auntie Walburga explained kindly. Bellatrix was sure she understood now. They had lived a long time ago. Although it certainly appeared like it at family gatherings Black family members did not, in fact, live forever.
'What about the burned parts?' she scratched her finger over a burn mark between her aunt and her father.
'Not everyone who is born a Black wishes to stay a Black, darling. So they're removed. They aren't important.' Auntie Walburga rubbed her belly thoughtfully, 'It's more important that those of us who aren't burned off stay together and keep going.'
'When is the baby coming?' Bellatrix turned to her aunt.
'Oh, it won't be long now. Will you come babysit once he's here?'
'Oh, yes, I'd very much like that! I'll bring Andromeda and Narcissa, too!' Bellatrix practically shrieked with excitement. She loved the feeling of importance that came with watching Andromeda and Narcissa, and she thought watching a small cousin might be even better. Her aunt flashed her a warm smile.
'Come on, love. It's time for lunch.'
...
April 1972 Black Family Estate
'How would you feel about marrying me?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, our parents would approve of the match, we wouldn't have to do anything we didn't want to do, and we'd be spared having to marry any of the idiots in school. We could run away together and live happily ever after and all that.'
They were lying on a bed in a guest bedroom, and Rodolphus was grinning at her. They'd put on matching robes and hats and shoes and taken a swig each of Polyjuice. He was looking at her through her own eyes. His body felt strange on her. It hummed and pulsed with her excitement. She wasn't used to feeling so heavy, for her chest to be so flat. He was tall and angular. It wasn't unpleasant, really, just a bit odd. Her center of gravity wasn't where it should have been.
'Would it always be as much fun as this, though?'
'Always.' he grins mischievously at her, 'We'd have a cottage by the sea and we'd travel the world and we'd attend parties and always have the most fun out of anyone because we'd be together.'
'Oh, Rodolphus,' she fluttered her eyelashes, knowing how ridiculous it looked on his face, 'you know just what to say to me.'
He laughed, 'Come off it. I'm serious, Trix. We'd get our gold together and we would be free. We'd owe our allegiance only to each other. Sod them all!'
'Are you in love with me, Rodolphus?'
'No, my darling Trix. But I do care for you, and you are by far the superior choice available to me, which is as good as it will be, I think. I wouldn't mind living out my life with you for a wife.' he smiled warmly at her in his own way, but it looked odd and rather drowsy on her face. 'I trust you enough for this' he waved vaguely between them 'to be something I can do with you. Who else would I build a life with when I have this?'
She had already known the answer, and felt, truth be told, much the same way. They had so much fun, and they'd always been the best of friends. And now that they were older things were changing. They hadn't taken Polyjuice just to lie on this bed, after all. Finding someone else so... adventurously inclined would likely be difficult.
'I'll think about it, Rod. Now,' she made her voice low and gruff to imitate his speaking voice, 'I have something pressing to show you.' They both giggled, and she felt a thrill of excitement running through her, tightening her braies in an unfamiliar way. This was so deliciously wrong.
...
December 4, 2003 excerpt from interview by Unspeakable Granger for mrs. Lestranges hearing and deposition, read into the record on March 15 2004
'Tell me about your husband.'
'It was a marriage of convenience. We were in the same year in school, met in the Great Hall at the feast, sat opposite each other on the Slytherin table. Thick as thieves, as they say.
When he suggested it I was enchanted with the idea of not being bound to have children, to be able to leave my childhood home and... well, Rodolphus promised me the world in exchange for my vows. We were more than happy to promise spending our lives together, really. We got a house, nothing too ridiculous or anything, and tried to find the freedom we longed for away from prying eyes.
I didn't know much about it at the time, but Rodolphus did have a family connection to the Dark Lord. His father and brother were Death Eaters. His brother had replaced his father after his father's death, but no one knew. People forget how secret the Death Eaters were then. But Rodolphus and Rabastan were raised with these beliefs, raised to join. Their father had followed the Dark Lord from the Knights of Walpurgis. Rodolphus didn't care much about it when we were in school, and neither did I, really. Later, of course...the Dark Lord had some suspicions about me, and wanted a chance to recruit me. My father didn't know the Lestranges were in with the Dark Lord then as no one knew who was in. My parents were thrilled by the prospect, having always liked Rod. I was thrilled I didn't have to live at home anymore, that I would have a go at a real life. All along, Rodolphus was acting on behalf of the Dark Lord without even knowing it. Rabastan had been instructed to explain to Rod how practical the marriage would be. By the time I found that out I was too infatuated with My Lord to care. It was our own decision in the end either way.
We didn't... well, magical life is just so restrictive, isn't it? All the secrecy, all the hiding. We had power and brains, but nothing much to use it for. We spent a lot of time with Rabastan, and the talk turned ever more political. My cousin was of course also an influence – Evan Rosier that is. It didn't take long until Rod wanted that glorious new world order and I started dreaming of a world where I could be free to go wherever I wanted while wearing whatever I bloody well chose and where magical creatures could roam free and I could practice my power and be my most magical self without fear of reprisal. We were already interested in the Dark Arts, being of the more intellectual persuasion, but our interest turned political then.
Rodolphus was a sweet man. He was excellent at espionage, but a spotty dueller compared to myself. I was an excellent dueller and I can throw curses with the ease of breathing at that time, frankly. Together we were a formidable team. There was much camaraderie between us.'
...
March 1966 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Andromeda Black was a Slytherin who had friends in Hufflepuff house. Merlin, she is so embarrassing sometimes, thought Bellatrix as she stamped through the corridors and into the library. It didn't really matter, of course. Andromeda was certainly a bit soft for a Slytherin, after all. She'd seemed terribly lonely until she'd started hanging about with the Hufflepuff girl Abbott, whom she had been paired with in Potions. Professor Slughorn had a knack for introducing people, Bellatrix knew. It was likely no coincidence they'd been paired.
Either way it was still annoying. Andromeda often requested Bellatrix help with her homework, and she'd always choose a table in the library with people from different houses, always with that blasted Hufflepuff girl. And now she had evidently gone and chosen a table FULL of the idiots. There were even mudbloods! Bellatrix felt a little nauseous. Those brats had no business coming here at all, she had decided. This castle belonged to witches and wizards. The mudbloods had the rest of the world, why couldn't they very well leave her little corner alone?
'Bellatrix!' Andromeda called softly so as not to annoy the bat of a librarian, Madame Billrod. Bellatrix huffed and made her way over, trying to convey her dismay as much as she could in every movement.
'There's no need for you to join us if you don't want to. I'm sure Lyra can help me, can't you Lyra?' Andromeda arched her eyebrows at Bellatrix and then turned to look at an older girl across the table whom Bellatrix recognized from Herbology classes.
'Of course I could.' smiled the girl, jutting her chin forward ever so much – a clear challenge.
Bellatrix sat down, somewhat reluctantly still. 'Alright, alright. I just don't understand why you insist on dragging me all the way up here. We could just do this in our common room like normal people.'
'So you and Rodolphus can crack jokes at each other all evening long and ignore me? No, thank you.'
Bellatrix made a point to scowl her most petulant scowl at that.
'Not going to introduce us, are you?'
'Oh, I'm sorry. This is my sister Bellatrix. Bellatrix, that's Ted Tonks, you know Hesta Abbott of course. I suppose you also know Lyra Fawley, and this is Kendra Hidgens.' She nodded at them all in turn, silently horrified.
'Hello', she directed at Fawley, ignoring the others now. She would not speak with mudbloods. Her father would never forgive her, if nothing else. Besides, who knew what sort of twisted things mudbloods talked about anyway? Best not to tempt fate.
'Right. So, Ted, you wanted to talk to me about something?' Lyra pointedly turned away to engage with the mudblood. Unbelievable. Sodding Hufflepuffs. Though she was not entirely certain which of the two of them had been more rude. She was a Slytherin, after all. She was supposed to have impeccable manners. I could have just pretended, couldn't I? Or would that have been wrong, too?
She turned to Andromeda. 'Transfiguration, then? Or Charms?' She hoped it was Transfiguration, as Andromeda was completely hopeless at Charms. She wouldn't be able to charm her way out of a cupboard, Bellatrix was sure.
'Charms.' Andromeda grinned.
'You are as always a thorn in my side.' she sighed dramatically.
'Oh, honourable sister, have I offended thee with my ignorance?' Andromeda laughed and pulled out a heavy text, flipping through the pages. 'So, the essay is on differentiating between charmable and non-charmable wards and well, I just am not certain about this wand movement here, see this figure on page 789?'
'The hexagonal pattern is performed from east to west holding your wand at a 45 degree angle at elbow height. How is it unclear exactly?'
And so they began. Bellatrix loved Charms, really. The theory and the practice were intricate and something one needed to understand thoroughly in order to make anything happen at all once one got to a certain level. She loved the challenges offered by charms, transfiguration and arithmancy – the rest of her classes were almost background noise by comparison.
As the evening progressed it turned out Lyra had no problem sending the occasional snide remark Bellatrix's way, keeping up a strange sort of tension between them. It was rather unexpected for a Hufflepuff, Bellatrix thought.
...
December 7, 2003
'Is it very different, the way you live now and the way you lived... before?'
Hermione looked pensive for a moment, resting her hands on the kitchen counter,
'Before magic you mean? There's loads of stuff that is different. All sorts of things. You know for instance, muggles have very different names. Wizards and witches have such a sort of names that no one ever needs a second explanation of mine. Muggles aren't at all accustomed to my name. When I tell a witch of wizard that my name is Hermione they never go Excuse me? It's very refreshing to not have to spell it out. Everything else is just a difference in technology. Cooling charm or refrigerator, telephone or Floo, that sort of thing as far as daily life goes at least.'
'Muggles have different names?'
'Yes. I suppose. I mean, look at you. If you were muggle I doubt very much you'd be named for the Amazon star. It's only fitting though, for the woman warrior and all.'
'Ah, well, Alfonsine wasn't entirely reliable in his translations. It is Al Najid, the conqueror. Which isn't as fitting.'
'Well, it is a good name at any rate.'
'It sets up the expectation as all our names do. Narcissa, the beautiful flower. Andromeda, the chained lady. Bellatrix, the warrior. The daughters of Cygnus, the Northen cross, and Druella, the elfin vision.'
'All Greek except your mother. What tradition does Druella come from then?'
'German. They're very close to the elves over there. My mother caught me terrorizing the house-elves once, I thought she was going to murder me.' Bellatrix chuckles. 'They've been the guardians of magical realms there. They've got more than just house-elves in Germany. I suppose this is why she absolutely hated my aunt Walburga.'
...
May 1966 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
It wasn't the most popular of opinions to have, but Bellatrix hated Quidditch after-parties. They tended to get rather loud, and she didn't much like loudness. Or crowds, which the parties tended to attract. The Black household had always been quiet. They had fun, certainly, but quiet fun, and privacy whenever one needed it. She had never quite gotten used to loudness, even since coming to Hogwarts. She much preferred, when the after-parties happened, to pilfer some food and then bugger off to roam the castle. She was rather skilled at getting around, and she enjoyed the hours of privacy immensely. She rarely had any privacy in school at all otherwise.
'Bellatrix?'
She turned to see Lyra Fawley approach.
'What are you doing out here?'
'Oh, I've gotten some... stuff.' she grinned. 'Come with me to the Astronomy Tower!'
'What?'
'Come on!' Lyra approached and hunched over Bellatrix conspiratorially, 'I've got something fun.' she said as she briefly flashed Bellatrix the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey she was hiding in her robes.
Grinning, Bellatrix agreed and they set off.
- . - . -
'You are a horrible person. You know that, don't you?'
'Me? I am not anything of the sort!'
'You're a filthy rich blood purist.' a stern look follows this pronouncement, 'Don't imagine for a second that I am not aware of your leanings. Or that I approve.'
'Look who's talking, Fawley. You are no paragon of good yourself, running around with all sorts of filth, smuggling drink into the school.'
She is angered by the hostility, but it feels fun and dangerous to argue now that she is undoubtedly tipsy, perhaps even drunk. It is easy now. Her body is tingling with firewhiskey and excitement.
'They're not like us, you know. They're from a different culture, and no matter how much we all pretend that they don't try to pass on their Muggle ways to us, they are still doing it. I simply wish to keep my own culture. I don't want them here, ruining it.'
'Supremacist.' Lyra throws it at her, almost playfully.
'Perhaps.' she shrugs, 'Muggles don't have magic. Magic is better than not having magic. I have magic, and I refuse to consort with anyone who might take my magic from me. It isn't really that prejudiced to recognize that having magic does indeed make me superior.'
She hasn't seen anything yet to suggest her father is wrong about these things. She sees the mudbloods in the corridors on weekends in their muggle costumes, she sees their bizarre footwear poking out of their school robes. Mundane tasks done by hand rather than wand. They forget what they can do. They're more muggle than magic, she thinks, and while she may not be perfect she is certainly not as hateful as a muggle, nor as stupid.
'Not even trying to deny it? For Merlin's sake, Bellatrix. This isn't 1748, you know. They aren't so bad, really.'
'They know nothing of our world and seem wholly intent on destroying whichever part of it they are granted access to' her father's argument rolls off her tongue now, 'and if you hate me so much you should not have invited me here.'
Childish again. It does feel like rejection, being told off like this.
'Since it seems I am stuck studying with you I was hoping I could sort you out a bit. Find some redeeming quality in you. You are wound so awfully tight all the time that I occasionally fear you might burst.' she gives Bellatrix an unmistakably drunken smile, 'You are really very clever, at least, so there's your redeeming feature. I was simply hoping there was more to you than excellent completer of homework assignments.'
Bellatrix doesn't quite know why she does it, but she leans in and kisses Lyra ever so softly. When Lyra kisses her back, it isn't soft at all, but powerful. Her lips are soft and she tastes like firewhisky but also something indeterminable and wonderful the Bellatrix suspects has something to do with Lyra herself. After a while they pull back, and Bellatrix eagerly accepts the offering of another swig of firewhiskey, and she drinks as much as she can stomach before throwing herself again into the arms of her companion.
...
February 1972 Lestrange house, near Tywyn, Wales
Bellatrix apparated directly into Rodolphus' bedroom, having never been more relieved he had arranged the wards for her so that she could.
'Well, she's gone and done it, hasn't she?'
'What?'
'She's had the baby! She's had his bloody child!'
'Disgusting.' Rodolphus wrinkled his nose.
'It is! Revolting is what it is!' she almost screamed and cradled her body, continuing quietly 'Father is so upset, mother cries all day long. We haven't seen her, of course, since she married the bastard. And now we know she is never coming back. A mudblood child! Aunt Walburga has blasted her off the tapestry, barmy old coot.'
Bellatrix slumped on the bed, pain etched on her face. 'I'll never see her again. It isn't just about blood. She chose him over all of us. She chose his side. Why would she do this to us? It isn't right, mixing with muggles! We've spent our whole lives in hiding because of them and now she's diluting the magical properties of our blood in order to join them? It's not right! She was my sister!'
She cried silently for a while, before finally regaining her composure. Rodolphus eventually reached for her hand. It had not occurred to her before to do it now, but she decided this was the time to finally settle the matter.
'Do you still want to marry me, Rod?'
'Certainly. There aren't too many available girls out there for me, to be honest. My father insists it has to be a pureblood Slytherin with the right kind of family. Most of the people who are those things and our age are also blokes.'
She giggled.
'Well, I mean, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? Maybe we could salvage the Black name.'
'I think a nice pureblood wedding might indeed take everyone's mind off what has been going on.'
At last, there was something she could do. She'd thought about this for years anyway, long before Rodolphus had brought it up. As he rightly pointed out, there weren't too many appropriate candidates available, and out of the boys in school she couldn't think of anyone she liked better than Rodolphus. He was her best friend. At least a life with him would be fun, if devoid of romance.
'Alright, Rod.' she made a grand show out of getting on one knee, wiping the last bit of tears off her face with her sleeve.'My good sir, most honoured gentleman. Would you do me the honour of being my husband?'
He grinned, and fluttered his eyelashes at her, mirroring her from happier times, delicately giving her his hand. 'Why, my lady, the honour would be all mine!'
They fell to the floor, enveloping each other in an embrace. This, Bellatrix thought, was a great idea. He was the safest place she could ever be.
...
June 1957, Black Family Estate
Bellatrix and Andromeda generally agreed that the most boring thing in the world was when one of them were ill, although they could not quite agree whether it was worse to be ill or worse to be left to play alone – and as Andromeda had been stricken ill with dragon pox, Bellatrix was now certain she was the most bored person in the whole world.
So, since she couldn't go in and see Andromeda, she had tried to ambush the house-elves. Their huge eyes and flappy ears were ever so amusing when they jumped back in fright.
But then her mother had caught her throwing a vase at a house-elf, giggling wildly as the elf ran for cover under the dining table.
'Bellatrix Black! What do you think you are doing?!' Druella screeched.
'Playing.' she tried hesitantly, striking her most petulant pose.
'Are you under the impression that our servants are to be treated this way by insolent brats such as yourself?' her mother roared.
'They're only house-elves...' she tried, uncertain where her mother was going with this. 'They don't mind, surely...'
She had thought mother would be angry about the mess, not the house-elves. She was, after all, the master of house-elves, wasn't she? She'd do with them as she pleased.
Her mother seemed to deflate at her answer, a tired expression creeping into her stance.
'They are not only house-elves, Bellatrix. They are our responsibility, not our playthings.'
She considered Bellatrix for a second before bending down and grabbing her daughters' hands, looking directly at her.
'In exchange for their service we keep them safe, warm and fed. We protect them from the world, and they give us their loyalty. Why should they owe any loyalty to you after the way you've treated them?'
Druella held a squirming Bellatrix still, though her voice was less harsh. Bellatrix stared at a spot next to her feet. This was a question of moral failing, she knew it now. She detected it in her mother's voice, the embarrassment Mother felt at Bellatrix's lack of kindness. Her mother sighed loudly.
'Bellatrix, the house-elves wear the Black family crest not only because they are our property, but because they are in our service and under our protection. They are living beings, and we must treat them with respect and kindness. One can tell a lot about a person from how they treat their servants. I expect you to apologize to the elves and' she pressed on through Bellatrix's groans of protest 'I also expect you will treat them better in the future. If nothing else you'd at least do well to remember that the house-elves are the ones who prepare your food and you'd rather not give them incentive to poison you.'
'They can't poison me, the Ministry would kill them!' Bellatrix protests, outraged.
'And I'm sure that will be a great comfort to you, seeing as you'd be dead before the Ministry could step in.' Druella remarks sharply. 'You are my property, you know. Would you like to be treated the same way wizards treat their elves or would you prefer for me to treat you... not as badly as I could?'
Bellatrix stared at her mother.
'Power, my darling, isn't everything.' Druella marches out, leaving Bellatrix rather speechless.
...
November 1981 Lestrange House, Coventry England
'Hello. How may I help you this evening, gentlemen?'
'Mr. Lestrange, we are here to interview yourself and your wife-'
'My wife is indisposed at the moment.' he swiftly cuts the Auror off with an air of finality.
'I'm sorry, sir, but I really must insist.'
He sizes them up, before he sighs deeply. 'Come in, then. She's through here.' he leads them to the sitting room where she is flung on a chair sobbing.
Bellatrix cannot stop herself, the distress she feels is as acute as a knife in the gut. The pain from losing her future and her whole world all at once is wretched. She tries to whimper a pathetic greeting, and the Aurors look uncomfortably to Rodolphus.
'What's wrong with her?' one asks bluntly. Rodolphus puffs up indignantly and clears his throat.
'We've just had a family tragedy.'
The Aurors seem to hang to his words. The moment is thick with anticipation for Rodolphus to explain. Everyone in this room, Bellatrix included, knows why they are here.
'You needed to see her, and so you have. Now, let us continue this without her. As you can see she is in no fit state to be interrogated.' He throws a menacing glare at the Aurors when they don't move. 'Come with me or leave.' he hisses.
The Aurors shift uncomfortably. They suspect, of course, why this is a house in mourning. Bellatrix has never pretended her sympathies lay anywhere but where they were (if not altogether a supremacist, she's certainly officially a staunch separatist), although she has kept up her facade of being a passive supporter of going about everything the Ministry route. Of course, being somewhat sympathetic to the cause might be enough to land one in Azkaban these days. However, Rodolphus comes to the rescue.
'My wife recently suffered a miscarriage, alright?' he whispers it loudly, angrily shielding her with intensity and ferocity behind every syllable. Of course, the fierce protectiveness shields him, as well. 'I won't have you harassing her! I know why you're here and you are wasting your time. We haven't done anything wrong.'
They finally seem to move on, embarrassed with their display of suspicion now. When they have concluded their interview and leave, Rodolphus has managed to not deny anything nor admit to anything. Bellatrix wants to smile, wants to praise her husband for a job well done, but she cannot bring herself to do anything more than squeeze his hand in gratitude before he again retreats to his office to read.
...
1978 Lestrange cottage, Kielder forest, England
'My Lord?'
'Do not pretend you have not heard me, Bellatrix. You know I can always tell when you lie.'
'It is... well, are you certain, my Lord? He seems a bit... young.'
'And so he is, but we must not let that count against him. He is a boy of extraordinary talents, ones we may use for our advantage. And he is devoted to the cause.' Lord Voldemort smiled.
Bellatrix wrinkled her nose at the scrawny boy before her. Severus Snape, was it? He seemed haughty, and even slightly rude as he stood uncertainly behind their master. Greasy hair, black robes, long nose... certainly not a man of charm.
'I will employ him as a spy, Bellatrix. He is also a most accomplished potions maker, which I am certain will benefit us greatly. Test him and teach him whatever he needs.'
'What is this Snape name? Half-blood, are you?' she directed at the boy. He shot her a brief look of disgust before her Lord intervened.
'Bellatrix, darling, do you have anything particularly against half-bloods?' She blushed furiously.
'No, my Lord. Of course not.'
He knew that she knew, of course. He knew it added to her attraction to him. It lent him an air of scandal and debauchery, and with that a whole other dimension of danger which she found very seductive indeed.
'See that it is done, Bella. Do not disappoint me.'
He stalked out, leaving the boy behind.
'What did he mean?' the boy asked, incredulously.
'Never you mind, Snape. Let's see what you know, shall we?' she spat and plunged into his mind without allowing him any more preparation.
...
January 1982 Lestrange House, London England
He has been gone for two months. Two unbearable months. The world has been filled with the shrieks and howls of greedy mudbloods and filthy blood traitors who wish for nothing more than subservience to muggles. Those who wish to punish the magical for being so. It is disgusting, it is a sort of self-loathing, it is a bloody shame, she chants furiously to herself whenever she is forced to leave the house and witness the atrocity unfolding.
She has been to Gringotts a few times since her Lord's fall into exile. She believed him to still be alive before she visited her vault, but since then it is not belief. It is certainty. Holding the Cup her master has given her for safekeeping was really all she needed to find the truth. It has a heartbeat. She cannot be sure what it means... but he had always spoken of immortality. It seems he got his dearest wish.
Bellatrix has always been a special kind of Death Eater, found most often in the background researching and practicing, training, setting wards to protect them. It had been the work of a lifetime, an unexpectedly demanding magical task – preparing for the second coming of the founders as the Dark Lord often puts it. She is perhaps the most skilled witch in all of Britain. Almost none of the Death Eaters know her. They will not reveal her to the authorities, even if they find her. No one who isn't a Death Eater knows either. No one else has ever seen her in any setting that could implicate her. Now, she is in a unique position to find her Lord and bring him back, she realizes, because she can go about it without much scrutiny. But where to begin?
...
1979, Dartmoor England
'I think it's brilliant, Master. He's the key to everything you want.'
'Bellatrix, don't be fooled. The boy is an idiot.'
'The boy is brilliant, I tell you. He's an Animagus, he's got every connection he could ever need already cemented and everyone fooled – he'd be an excellent addition.'
'Peter Pettigrew?' he looked at her incredulously. Drawing a deep breath he finally said, as if explaining something obvious to a child, 'He doesn't believe in any of this, Bella. He's only in it for himself.'
'Which's what we will exploit, my Lord. He will constantly try to prove himself – until such a time that we can offer up the wolf in sheep's clothing for the public. Who will suspect me when they can suspect him?'
...
July 1976
Bellatrix has certain... skills the Dark Lord appreciates. Most of the time it seems he merely wishes to keep her as a trinket, a lovely example of what he could have had himself. Bellatrix is everything Merope Gaunt should have been, but wasn't. She's Pureblood, beautiful, strong, vibrant and talented. She believes in fighting for what's right, and what's more Bellatrix's idea of what is right sits far better with the Dark Lord than Merope Gaunts ever did.
'I grew up among muggle filth, Bellatrix. I have seen it first hand, the way they are. They are no more than animals, desperate for power and prone to violence.' he confesses one night as they sit quietly beside the fire in her sitting room. Rodolphus has gone to bed, Lucius and Narcissa have left.
'So war is truly necessary then?' she asks, almost absentmindedly.
'War is inevitable.' he smiles decisively, and she implicitly trusts the handsome man she has grown to respect so much. It doesn't frighten her, the war he speaks of.
'Bellatrix,' he starts after a stretch of silence,' you are an extraordinary witch. I believe you would be of the utmost use to me as a Death Eater. Why have you not taken the Mark yet?'
'My Lord, ' she blushes. He knows how long she has waited for him to ask. 'I did not know it was what you wished of me. I thought my place was outside.'
He nods thoughtfully, and stares at the fire.
'I will train you myself. War is always ugly, and you are... precious to me.'
Her heart thumps and her face flushes. 'Thank you, My Lord. Of course I will take the Mark. I will never fail you.'
'Good. I do not have much tolerance for incompetence.' he grins, an expression that always leaves Bellatrix somewhat unsettled. His teeth are brilliant, and his face is wide open, but there isn't any humour in it. Only savage triumph.
...
December 4, 2003 Excerpt from interview by Unspeakable Granger for mrs. Lestranges hearing and deposition, read into the record on March 15 2004
'Of course, the oppressiveness of Pureblood customs and the difficulty of isolation has made these sorts of movements very popular before. The Ministry never lets the wizarding population centralize enough for us to live comfortably in isolation. We're always outnumbered and hiding. It's not so bad for the muggleborns, really, as they can hide in plain view, and easily slip across the border. They have muggle ways and muggle customs. Purebloods aren't so lucky. It feels like living in a cage, and everyone admits it. The only real difference between wizards politically is how to solve this problem. We all agree it is a problem. The Dark Lord wanted to return overground again, for us to use magic whenever we damn well pleased. He wanted us to experiment with Dark Magic. He wasn't as interested in witches magic, weather-working and elementals and all that, but he certainly was interested in other parts of it. He was obsessed with death, which I admit I found unnerving at first. However, I soon accepted that the Dark Lord needed to survive the revolution at all costs, as he was the one who would build our new world order. My loyalty shifted slowly to him and only him. I had been infatuated with him, but when he took me under his wing and trained me in the Dark arts... well, as it turns out that was His plan all along, but I was flattered. We trained and trained, he taught me so much. Of course, by the time I'd mastered Occlumency, he knew me like the back of his hand. I became indispensable to him. The man who came back from death was not the man I knew back then, however desperately I hoped for it.'
...
June 1976 An unknown location, Britain
'Tell me, Bellatrix, how do you think one would most efficiently go about bringing down the Ministry of Magic?'
'Well, my Lord, I believe it would depend on the purpose of bringing it down. If one simply wishes to see it crumble that is all well and good, but if one wishes to merely prune away the undesirable parts so that a structure is left to take over and... mould, well that is quite another matter. Transition or revolution, there are obvious benefits to both. There are of course benefits to taking a middle road, as well.'
'So you understand our purpose, then?'
'I think I do, my Lord, but I do not wish to be misinformed simply for fear of admitting ignorance.' She grinned at her Master.
'Ah, Bellatrix. You are as always a delight. Very well, I trust you see that we are achieving our objective splendidly?' a smile cracks his face and as she smiles her most radiant smile back at him he raises a finger at her, 'But a warning: Lord Voldemort no longer has time for mere social calls. I shall require a service from you.'
'Anything my Lord wishes.'
'I have taught you many of our Darkest Arts already, Bellatrix. I wish for you to oversee the work of the others from now on and guide them in any skill where they might be... insufficient. It is of the utmost importance that my Death Eaters have impeccable skill in the areas I need them to, and alas I have no time to be a teacher to all of them. The success of our plan hinges on this.'
Her heart swelled with pride. She was his student, and now he would trust the rest of them to her. She was his only student. She felt acutely – a surge in her chest of sorts – the great honour of it.
'Of course, my Lord. I seek, as always, only to serve you.' she briefly bowed her head in reverence, but caught herself and looked up, directly in his eyes. She felt as if there was a raging fire ignited between them as she let her mental walls fall. He roamed through her mind, seeking out her loyalty, her love, her reverence. She was his, completely, and the thrill of having submitted herself to someone so thoroughly... it burned in her blood. He need never touch her physically, for he had already taken her mind for his own.
'Very well.' he pulled back, and she braced herself a bit in her chair, panting. He always sought the parts of her that longed for him, bringing them out in her so clearly.
'I expect you to be ready soon, Bellatrix. I need you to have every skill if you are to teach every skill, so master them all. I will call on you again before long.'
The recent invasion still hummed in her. Oh, the way he said her name! The thrill of it shot straight through her. I seek only to serve him, she reminded herself. What she wanted wasn't important. Only he was. She would be his most faithful servant, someone he could trust to keep an eye and a wand at the ready to enable everyones success.
'Oh, and Bellatrix? This is of course a sensitive issue. You will know, by necessity, every one of my Death Eaters. They need not know you, or if they do, they need to be unable to pass your name on. If you are caught, it will be most... inconvenient for me.'
'Of course, my Lord. No one will know.'
...
December 29 2003
'I hate to revisit this, really. I haven't found any memory of the incident yet – did you really do it?'
Hermione was chewing on a quill, trying to keep any sense of unease out of her voice as she took notes. If Bellatrix's original conviction went out the window this process would prove quite a bit more complicated. The outcome, she suspected, would not.
'I was there. I didn't plan it or anything but the process... Everyone else had their wits about them, having already escaped Azkaban. I didn't care about Azkaban. Our loyalty was with our Lord, I felt.'
Bellatrix looked tired, dejected.
'I was such a fool I didn't realize that everyone else had pledged loyalty to a cause, not a master.'
'Well, more's the pity as the cause was never pursued.' Hermione arched an eyebrow at her captor, trying to convey some levity – the pursuit the Death Eaters were after had been doomed from the start.
'That isn't true at all, Granger. You don't understand our cause.'
The healing had really changed Bellatrix's perception of everything she'd fought for surprisingly little, in Hermione's opinion. The views she held were ridiculous and for an intelligent woman like Bellatrix to hold them were almost incomprehensible.
'How did you know Voldemort wasn't dead? You're not... well, you're not guessing. You knew.'
'Ah, well, it's really rather simple. You see, there was the up until recently unknown matter of the Cup that had been placed in my vault. I knew the Dark Lord was alive because the Mark hadn't faded or disappeared entirely, and I had been informed the Cup I had been entrusted with had something to do with my Lords safety, though I did not tell anyone about that. The Dark Lord had instructed me that so long as the Cup was safe I was never to cease searching for Him should anything happen. I visited my vault so that I could be around something of My Lord after his disappearance, and it had a heartbeat. The Cup of Helga Hufflepuff had a heartbeat and just... felt like the Dark Lord to me. I was certain He was alive then. My Lord was never one to divulge information unnecessarily, so if he had a hideout, he wouldn't have told us. Not even me, I realized. All the same, as time passed on it seemed likely that something had gone much more awry than I had thought at first. But he was alive, of that I was sure. My Mark reacted to the presence of the Cup. As for the Longbottoms, that whole mess was started because what we wanted was information on the Horcruxes, however little we realized it at the time.'
...
A/N: Oh, boy. This one's a doozy - my computer was recently hospitalized but luckily my documents have been saved. I have been unusually busy - as such I hope the structure of this is not completely confusing as it makes sense to me but I've looked at it for long enough that I'm not sure if it's just me or it makes actual sense outside my head? Anyway I apologize for this update being so long overdue and hope at least this chapter makes up for it a little. Have a wonderful day, darling reader :)