Bella knows she is everyone's favourite. And not just any favourite, she is the favourite. Sure, Dromeda is smart and Cissy is pretty, but they love her for something entirely different. She acts like the perfect lady she was raised to be. She believes everything Father teaches her.
She keeps her nose up, her back straight, her hands folded and footsteps light. She is brilliant at her studies, and embodies the Slytherin house spirit. She respects her place in the blood hierarchy. She knows she is from the House of Black, she knows the power she possesses. She intends to use it.
'Cygnus, she is just a child!' her mother screeches. Her mother never raises her voice. Bella stops in the hallway. She is outside her parents' room. 'She is just fifteen! Don't do this.'
'War won't wait to see who is a child and who is not. The Dark Lord doesn't discriminate with age. This is her place, and this is where she should be,' her father's heavy voice silenced every other sound. Without meaning to, she enters the room. Father doesn't seem to mind. He smiles at her. She could do anything to have him smile at her like that.
'I accept whatever you want of me, Father,' she says, her eyes shining. Her mother whimpers. Father strides towards her and puts his great arms around her small frame. She hugs him back. 'I am very proud of you, Bellatrix.'
She never gave him a reason not to be proud of her again.