The Dark Lord was gone.
On the night of Halloween, he planned to rid himself of his greatest, if not only, threat existent in this world. But it all backfired. What should have been a walk in the park turned out to be the very downfall of Lord Voldemort.
How a young boy, a mere infant, was capable of besting the greatest wizard of all time was anybody's guess. Many even thought he died that night but Bellatrix knew better. She knew there was no way a stupid, salivating toddler could fulfil a feat like that. Her lord was out there somewhere, she was sure of it.
When the news reached her, she had been furious. For hours on end she had hexed and cursed anyone and anything that got in her line of sight. Combined with her crying and yelling it had been a terrifying experience for everyone involved. Only when she'd calmed down a bit did her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, dare to approach her, suggesting they should find one of the Aurors and torture the whereabouts of the Dark Lord out of them.
But of course, that had been a dead end. Even after torturing Frank Longbottom and his wife to insanity they were none the wiser. That stupid Rodolphus and his idiot brother, Rabastan, had even managed to get themselves captured. Barty somehow escaped the initial ruse and almost managed to get away, but in the end was apprehended as well. And Bellatrix herself, well, she was still on the run – the authorities not far behind, however. Whenever she stayed in one place for too long, they came knocking and the chase began anew.
That was how she ended up in the town she was in right now – a small non-wizard village a few kilometres outside of London. She figured no one would ever suspect that she, the pure-blood witch of the most ancient and noble house of Black, would ever consider taking shelter in a Muggle village. But that was only part of the reason for her visit. Rumours had brought her here. Rumours of a certain being living in this vicinity – a vampire.
After all the attempts to gather information had failed she remembered something she once read in a book. It said that vampires were among the oldest magical creatures roaming the planet. Many of them said to have lived for hundreds of years already – some even more than a thousand. So, if anyone were potentially to know what happened to the Dark Lord, or maybe a way to bring him back, it would be a vampire.
And so, the dark witch made her way out of the town to take a stroll through the woods. Apparently, the bloodsucker lived in a cottage inside the forest not far outside the village – if you could trust the ramblings of some filthy Muggles.
But what choice did she have? She couldn't risk talking to anyone but them. It was frustrating, infuriating and humiliating. The mere thought made her body tense up and tremble with rage. Bellatrix was just about to throw some curses around to satisfy her anger but through the darkness of the trees she spotted a worn-down shack in the middle of a small clearing, enlightened by the pale moonlight. Curiously she stepped closer to the tiny building.
It could only have been described as scrap. The planks it was made of were perforated and mouldy, some even completely ripped out of the construct. The windows were broken – the frames hung out of place. About half of the also wooden roof had broken down and was rotting on the room's floor it had crashed down on. Dust, dirt and moss covered most of the furniture inside. The desk and matching chair even sprouted strange fungi. All in all, it appeared to have been abandoned ages ago. Nothing about it would've suggested that it had housed any kind of living creature in recent years.
But there was no doubt that it had. Bellatrix could feel the magical energy surrounding the cottage. A powerful charm lay on it. In the eyes of a Muggle it was nothing more than what it seemed, but for her, a witch, it was clear that this was only a hideout in disguise. Smirking she took out her wand. No charm could hide something from her.
"Revelio," she muttered while pointing the twig-like weapon at the crooked door. A few seconds passed but nothing happened. Her cocky grin slowly turned to an angered grimace. With a flick of her wand the shabby door was ripped out of its remaining hinge and smashed into a nearby tree. Snorting contemptuously, she stalked into the hut with huge steps. She started to scan the place vigorously. If the enchantment couldn't be broken by simple spell casting, there had to be some other way to get past it – most likely a password, hidden switch or interaction with a random object.
After a few minutes of intense searching she still hadn't found anything. The dark witch was about to freak out when a red glint suddenly caught her eye. She turned to look where it came from and found the door she had knocked away a couple moments before. Set in what looked like a doorknob two scarlet gems glistened in the pallid moonlight. When she moved closer to inspect it she recognized the shape of the stone figment to be a bat's head.
"Of course," her snort sounded through the darkness while she rolled her eyes.
Bellatrix lifted her hand in an attempt to touch the strange thing but before she could, the head sprung to life, jerked itself left and right – the red colour draining from its eyes. Surprised she retracted her hand and stared at the bodiless head, which stared right back at her. The now plain crystals eyed her intently – almost expectantly. It took a moment for her to realize but when she did, she sighed exasperatedly.
"Only a vampire would come up with something like that," she scoffed aggravated and held her pointer into the bat's mouth. Immediately the stone animal sunk its teeth into her skin and drew blood from her fingertip, gulping it down eagerly. The scarlet gleam returned to the gem stones and after withdrawing her finger, the mouth closed, and the head stopped moving again.
What happened next was too fast even for the dark witch to fully fathom. In a sweeping motion the mouldy door picked up the Death Eater and carried her back into the scrappy shack, locking itself in the threshold. All the furniture she'd disassembled only a few minutes earlier was magically put together, rearranged, and cleaned. The collapsed roof swiftly floated upwards and repaired itself. The dust, mould, and mushrooms disappeared without a trace and the wooden planks fixed themselves, now, again, looking as good as new. In the end she was standing inside a hut that appeared as if it was just built yesterday – warm, inviting, cosy.
But Bellatrix didn't care about that. All she wanted was to finally end this farce, so she could confront this vile creature and hopefully find out how to bring back her Dark Lord. Vigorously she wrapped her hand around the bat-head-shaped doorknob and violently swung the door open only to stop dead in her tracks, frozen in astonishment.
Contrary to her expectations she didn't find herself out in the dark of the forest, but inside a magnificent entrance hall. The floor was carpeted in red and silver fabric. It even covered the palatial stairs. A chandelier made of beautifully crafted glass-crystals hung centrally from the ceiling, the room ablaze with the lights of its dozens of candles.
"My, my, what do we have here," a calm voice resounded through the room, "I wonder how long it has been since someone found their way here." There, on top of the T-shaped stairwell, stood a slender man. He had smooth black hair, fair, pale skin and yellow eyes, which shone almost menacingly into Bellatrix'. The little smirk the guy wore faded away as he slightly tilted his head, "Or should I say, 'lost their way'?"
The raven-haired woman sized him up suspiciously with narrowed eyes. "So... You are the vampire, I suppose," she finally said, not breaking eye contact.
"Indeed, I am," he answered while making his way down the stairs, smiling softly. The man came to a stop on the landing that marked the staircases halfway point. "And what, if I may ask, brings Bellatrix Lestrange of all people into my tranquil quarters?" the vampire inquired curiously while said witch was climbing the steps, now sporting a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, so you've heard of me." A wicked smile followed.
"Well, Madame Lestrange, I think there is no soul left in all of wizarding Britain who doesn't know your name. Not after what you did to poor Alice and Frank Longbottom."
"Now that's flattering," the witch cackled gleefully as she reached the landing to finally see the man eye to eye. Though she had to look slightly up, for he was a bit taller. "I really did well there, didn't I?" She gave a playful wink, still smirking wickedly.
The smile he'd worn to that moment vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a cold, stern stare. "What do you want?" His calm and pleasant tone had become harsh and icy. "Why are you here?"
Her amused features now made way for a serious expression as well, "I want to bring back the Dark Lord."
"I figured as much," he spoke matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes, "but I wonder why you came to me."
"Because, presumably, you lived long enough to have seen or heard of a solution to my wittle pwobwem," she ended in a child-like manner and a downright heart-warming puppy-eye-pout. But the vampire gentleman didn't let himself be distracted by that. He just gazed at her with an unchanged expression.
"Lord Voldemort is dead," his cold voice sounded, "you are wasting your time."
For a brief moment she just stood there bewilderedly.
"No. No, he is NOT DEAD!" Bellatrix shrieked, grabbing her wand and pointing it at him. She was breathing heavily, tears forming in the corner of her eyes, "And you will tell me how to bring him back."
The vampire narrowed his eyes even further and just kept staring at her for several seconds. The witch returned his gaze challengingly, daring him to not meet her demands. She tightened the grip around her wand, ready to strike any time.
After a few more moments his unreadable face turned into a questioning one, "Why do you want to bring him back so badly?"
"Because he is the greatest wizard in our world," she stated much calmer than a few seconds ago, "we need him." A short laugh escaped his throat.
"No one needs him. He is nothing but a scared child mad with life because it—" His words got cut off by a spell the dark witch threw right in his face. He groaned uncomfortably while closing his eyes in pain.
"Don't you dare insult him!" she yelled, breathing heavily, staring at him with a mad glance, "he is the greatest man alive. He is all I need."
"It really is a shame," the vampire spoke while he returned his gaze on her, "that you can't see yourself through my eyes." Slight confusion washed over Bellatrix' face for a second after that remark, but she quickly caught herself again and continued to glare at him.
"Just tell me what I want to know," she muttered in a low, menacing voice. He has to come back. I need him. I'm nothing without him, she added in her thoughts, clenching her wand even harder.
"You know, you are so much more than what you make yourself believe you are. But your blind adoration for that man prevents you from seeing it."
Her eyes widened at that blunt statement, Did he just read my mind? A smirk appeared on her counterpart's face. But... how? There was no sign of legilimency.
"Well, we vampires have our tricks," he said nonchalantly and turned his smirk to a soft smile.
Bellatrix took a step forward and pressed her wand into his throat, "Stay. Out. Of. My. Head." The words came slowly over her lips, giving her an even more menacing aura than she'd already surrounded herself with.
For a few seconds the two of them only stared stubbornly into each other's eyes. With a voiceless sigh the vampire gave in and lowered his head.
"Alright, then." He turned around and made his way up the stairs. Bellatrix followed him cautiously, wand still at the ready. "You are right. The Dark Lord is not dead."
Her heart jumped at his words.
"But he is not really alive either," he continued as he came to a stop in front of the giant, beautifully crafted double door, "he is a bodiless essence, a mere shadow of himself."
The witch scowled at him and felt her anger rise again. "If you want to look for him, I'm afraid I can't give you guidance. I think no one knows where he actually fled to."
Bellatrix briefly interrupted him with a curse through clenched teeth.
"But I do know this: As long as he has even the tiniest thread of life to hang on to, he will rise again someday. So, all you need to have for now is patience," he closed his speech and gave a mirthless smile.
Deep in thought she slowly lowered her wand as she kept eyeing him intently.
"And if I find him," she raised her voice again a few moments later, "what would I have to do to restore his power?" The question didn't catch him by surprise, according to his facial expression, but he did seem to ponder the answer. Whether he tried to find one, or if he was unsure of telling it to her, she didn't know. But it wasn't long before he opened his mouth again.
"You will need—"
A loud explosion interrupted him. The impact sent him flying directly into Bellatrix. She got the wind knocked out of her as they both collided with the wooden banister behind her. It broke under their momentum and the witch crashed down on the landing losing her consciousness. When she came to a few moments later her whole body felt numb – not able to even move a single muscle. Her vision was blurry and there was a constant ringing in her ears. The only other thing she could hear were muffled voices. Though impossible to understand what they were saying she could clearly tell that they were furiously arguing vociferously.
Bellatrix blinked a few times to clear her eyes, but it didn't work. Moving her body proofed impossible as well, as someone or something held her in place. The muffled voices had also died down, so she just kept lying there – the ringing in her ears her only companion.
But then she felt something. It was very light, barely touching her, but it was there – a hand on her shoulder. One of the dull voices returned and was very close to her. Slowly the witch turned her head towards the noise and after blinking again a few times, the face of the vampire came into focus.
Her other senses followed soon after and the first thing she noticed was a searing pain right beneath her ribcage. She cast a glance toward it and saw a wooden stake sticking out of her midriff. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath quickened as the wood gradually soaked itself with her blood.
"Shhh. Calm down," she heard the pale man's soothing voice and returned her gaze to him. She hated how he looked at her, full of concern and sympathy, and attempted to growl, but a burning sensation inside her chest stopped her instantly. "The wood splintered quite a bit on the impact and punctured your lungs," he explained the pain she'd just felt and offered her a compassionate smile, "I'm afraid you will not survive this. The wound is too severe."
Tears started to form in her eyes. Not out of fear of death, but because she was absolutely livid with herself. Because she was a failure and disappointment to her Dark Lord and out of regret that she wouldn't be there to see him rise again. Her breathing grew faster again, which became increasingly harder to do. Also, she felt her consciousness slip away little by little.
"And yet there is one thing I could do to save you," the vampire spoke and watched her intently, as his soft smile turned into somewhat of a grin to reveal his vampiric fangs, "one bite is all it would take. One bite and you'll live. It is a desperate measure, of course – one that I'd never suggest lightly. Your life would drastically change – most likely for the worse." The pale man placed a hand on her right cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb, "Therefore, I need your consent." He bent over her, lowering his head, "I need to hear you say it." His lips were now almost touching her ear, when he asked in an enticing whisper, "Do you want to live?"
Bellatrix wasn't really sure what the vampire was saying. She had witnessed the last few moments through a murky haze. But the last question cut through it like a knife. Her half-closed eyes fully reopened again while she drew a deep breath. A burning pain shot through her lungs, her throat scratched as if she had just swallowed a load of dry sand. Her vision was starting to fade – soon she would drift off into eternal slumber.
With every fibre of her body she mustered up all the strength she had left to squeeze out the one word she desperately wanted to say.
"Yes."
Her raspy voice was barely audible, but she knew he had heard. Because the last thing she felt, before losing consciousness, were his sharp teeth breaking the skin on her neck.