A/N: I know, I know, long update I'm sorry! But I hope this is a great treat for you guys since the movie is coming out in two DAYS!!! AHHHHHH! :D

For now, I hope you'll just enjoy this chapter and what it offers. A little shorter than the first, but everything else after this will be moving at a more dramatic pace.

Thanks!

Felicia

PS. Did I mention REVIEWS=MY LIFE????!!!!! Seriously, when you guys leave me feedback and comments it really makes my day, like you have NO idea. So please, keep them coming! I love to here from you! =]]]] The more reviews, the more likely you'll get a fast update ;)


In the Shadows of Endless Nighttime

Chapter 6

The room spins rapidly without warning. Her head aches to the point of exhaustion. Her eyes close and still she can see things moving at quick speeds, teasing her, causing her mind to churn; she can never determine which way is up. All she can do to help ease some part, if any, of her nauseating state, is to rest on her bed, her thin, worn, uncomfortable bed. Though she grows ever tiresome and frustrated with her state, she always makes a point to rise at the last show of any moon to put yet another mark on the cement walls, the barriers that prevent her from leaving forever.

It seems the only slightly rational thing about her now, is that she knows precisely when each day does indeed end, so that she can once again press stones against the wall. It calls to her. Like a haunting song, it sings to her in whispers, enlightening her with commands so that she may deface it again, so that she may leave her marks eternally on her prison cell.

Evermore, her lines shall stay, so that when she leaves, others occupying her room will understand the consequences such a place as this has on its inhabitants. They'll see the blood spattered on the ground and the walls, and faces will turn pale. They'll feel her pain when their arms and legs, chained as they already are, are bruised and tattered into the ground, as she has experienced so many times over, and they'll ask death to shed its kindness on their pummeled souls. She laughs to herself; at whose mercy does she lie at but her own? No one's, not even those who continue to eat away at her decrepit remains.

She feels as if her only purpose is but to continue with marking the wall, as if her master told her that it would help in her escape and more so, his conquest.

Four thousand and nine hundred days are currently recorded. That's almost five thousand times she has relieved her muscles of their aching on her cot to crawl over to the area she has claimed her own with the stones and pebbles she's collected. So many days, so many weeks, so many months of so many years, yet no sign of her freedom appears.

Almost fourteen years, and still not one indication of her Lord's rightful return.

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A far distance away, the cries of a man whose voice she could have sworn to be that of her husband's, catches her attention. She listens for the sound again. She calls to Rodolphus within the sanctum of her mind. Nothing.

The cries are growing louder. There are more than two people screaming now. Bellatrix does not feel tempted to contribute to them today. She plays with the straw she used to call her hair. Her fingers coil around her locks, trying to think of something other than gloomy air; she ponders freedom, of fresher air.

Her thoughts are interrupted by ever-growing sounds of shouting. She's immediately thrown back to reality. Shall they ever stop? She thinks.

She grows frustrated; she is slowly noticing the intensity of each voice is increasing more and more by the moment. There is uproar, some kind of riot, possibly. She is led to believe these now thousands of tortured souls are calling for mercy. It seems however, they are rejoicing. She thinks this quite strange.

A flash of immense light from outside the bars of Bellatrix' window and she is blinded. The earth beneath her shakes, sending her crashing, unbalanced, into her cot. A strange wind blows around her, sending shivers up her bare legs and under her boney arms. Without her sight, she's left confused. They have not adjusted fully to their surroundings yet. She squints, suddenly aware of what is happening around her.

Dementors and their counterparts run amuck as a cold unfamiliar breeze swarms around her. The hairs on her arms and neck stand up on edge, as fearful as those in other cells. She steps forward, though only timidly, for she cannot see. Her foot retorts and she cringes from the pain of stepping on many new pebbles on the ground.

Sudden realization hits her hard. There is no longer a wall around her, no longer the place where she stood recording her stay. The wall is gone, the floor full of ashes and cement pieces. In a single breath, one held back for what seemed ages, a lone screech escapes her dry lips.

Bellatrix Lestrange is free.

Wasn't that exciting?! Our litter prisoner is free. And she wants her revenge! Stay tuned for more soon!