A/N: I still don't own Harry Potter or the song This I Promise You. I don't own any of these characters, or the last sentence in this chapter. That one comes from whoever wrote Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1. I'm trying to get chapters up pretty quickly. But since I don't write ahead (which I should probably start doing), it might be one- two per week. Also, thanks to Proud Mudblood, I have become aware that in the first chapter I never actually address what happened to the bit of Voldemort's soul that had possessed Quirrell. I'm trying to figure that one out, since JK Rowling never actually explained it. For now, just know that the two bits of soul- the one from the diary and the one that never actually died all the way- have merged into one, and are using the body of young Tom Riddle. So, Tom Riddle has the body and limited power of his teenage self, but the memories and knowledge of his adult self. Also, still no beta. So any mistakes belong to me. If you'd be interesting in being a beta, feel free to PM me. And thanks so much for all the reviews!
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"Headmaster, there's something you need to see." Severus Snape never particularly liked his job as a double spy. However, his job had recently become infinitely more difficult with the return of his previous Lord, who, if he ever found out that Snape was a double spy, would kill him 'faster than you could say quidditch,' to borrow a phrase from Madame Hooch. That still didn't mean that Severus relished the prospect of showing the front cover of the Daily Prophet to the elderly, but still quite powerful Headmaster.
"What is it Severus? I trust it is important, as I do recall you are supposed to be terrifying some young students right now in their Potions lessons," Dumbledore commented blandly, but with a twinkle in his eyes.
Snape thrust the front page of the Daily Prophet into the Headmaster's face, nearly knocking over the bowl of lemon drops that had been sitting before the Headmaster. Across the page, in bold, unmoving letters, it read, "Mass Breakout from Azkaban."
The Headmaster quickly scanned the following text, although he had already learned everything he needed to know from the moving pictures accompanying the article. The grimy and screaming faces of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange were side by side. But the most contradictingly recognizable but yet unrecognizable face on the page was the image of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Her striking good looks had faded into the gauntness created by Azkaban, but it was the maniacal glint in her eyes that made her one of the most recognizable witches in England. The eldest Black sister had been the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts during her school years. Most surprisingly, though, her personality was what had changed most. When she was young, Bellatrix had been disarmingly charming to those who mattered, had been the top in all her classes, had viscously protected her younger sisters, and often her lips were quirked up in a small smile. She was not unlike Sirius Black, if not for her unhealthy interest in the Dark Arts.
Albus knew that this news complicated things quite a bit. Most, if not all, of the Dark Lord's avid followers were now free, and many, such as Lucius Malfoy, enjoyed prominent positions in the Ministry. And with the crude and rash Lestranges now on the loose, the war would escalate rapidly. However, the Headmaster also knew that after eleven years in Azkaban, the escapees would need time to heal and gain their strength back.
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Bellatrix Black Lestrange had always considered herself the most beautiful girl, no matter whose company she was in. The visage reflected back at her in the dirty mirror, however, told a different story. Her thin, frail hands traced the sharp lines of her now very prominent cheekbones, before falling into the gaunt hollows that once were her cheeks. Her lips, once full and rosy, were now thinner, and were cracked and slightly bleeding. Her hands fell from her face to rest in her lap. Her hair, the long, dark, tangled mass of curls that fell down between her shoulder blades, hadn't seen conditioner or a brush in years. Bellatrix Black Lestrange stared at the monster in the mirror, and was surprised to see one lone tear fall slowly down its face.
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Lord Voldemort had always known that his followers would never be completely classified as sane or normal. That didn't mean he was not surprised to find that the Ministry had classified his most loyal Death Eater as officially insane. Lucius Malfoy had been ever-so-kind enough to retrieve some documents pertaining to Bellatrix Lestrange that the Ministry had been very adamant about keeping private (after a little harmless threatening of the use of either the Cruciatus or Imperius, of course). The papers were the official Ministry health reports of all the Death Eaters that had been tried before being sent to Azkaban. While awaiting their trials, the Death Eaters had been screened for any contagious diseases and also underwent mental assessments, as was normal for all wizards and witches awaiting trial.
Bellatrix Lestrange's examiner had apparently classified the witch with the muggle disorder of disordered schizophrenia. "Mrs. Lestrange exhibits many of the symptoms associated with schizophrenia. She appears to have troubles with sleeping, making friends (although this could be due to her unparalleled support of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named), and paying attention. During my examination of Mrs. Lestrange, she had troubles expressing her desires correctly (except for her wishes relating to 'Her Master,' as she referred to him), and exhibited disordered behaviors. By this I mean that she would be child-like in one moment, speaking is a sort of baby-ish voice, before snapping back into a cold, cruel demeanor, which only lasted until she would begin yelling and screaming in rage. This cycle was exhibited repeatedly."
At this Lord Voldemort paused, thinking back on his interactions with the witch in question. While these behaviors were the case, he believed it to simply be proof of her dedication to the cause. He knew she was an intelligent, brave woman who was also one of his best duelers. There was no way Bellatrix Lestrange could have schizophrenia, a disease which plagued muggles.
However, Voldemort was curious as to why these documents were kept top secret. He knew who would know, or would be able to find out. With one press to the Dark Mark now burned into his forearm, he summoned Lucius Malfoy.
"My…my Lord?" Voldemort did not ever think he would not be annoyed with Malfoy. The man was too slimy for his own good, and had absolutely no courage.
"Lucius. I would like to know why these… documents… were kept hidden. Surely there was no need to keep this information from the public; releasing them would have only done the Ministry good, nobody would have questioned placing Bellatrix in Azkaban had they known this information."
Lucius paled. He knew his master would not appreciate the Ministry's actions. "My Lord, in the Wizengamot, there is a stipulation that if a witness is found 'clinically insane,' their testimony in the court can be struck from the record and not taken into consideration when it comes time to find the witness guilty or not. And as Bellatrix was -is- not mentally…stable, her testimony declaring that she had tried to find you, My Lord, by torturing the Longbottoms, could have been… unusable, in declaring her sentence. Her classification also, had she been made aware, could have given her the opportunity to claim that she was mentally unstable, and, as such, not responsible for her actions. And the Ministry could not have that."
"Lucius, you and I both know Bellatrix would never have denied her actions, nor her responsibility for them."
"Yes, my Lord, but the Ministry underestimates her loyalty to you. They do believe it to be due to her… disease."
Voldemort clearly was struck by this statement. "And you, Lucius? Why do you believe Bellatrix is loyal to me?"
"One may never know, my Lord. Motives are complex, and Bellatrix's more than most. But I suspect she will forever be loyal to you and your cause, as she has already demonstrated."
"Ah, Lucius. Spoken like a true politician."