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LOCATION: Somewhere in the North Sea, Azkaban high Security Wing...

~ 24th June 1995 ~

~ Bellatrix's POV ~

The chill of the northern wind bit at her skin like thousands of tiny insect stings all at once and all she could do was bring her knees up tighter against her chest as her body shook, its own frantic attempt at generating some warmth.

Merlin knew she had forgot what warmth felt like as she shook and shivered in this blasted cell. Fourteen long years she had sat in this same bloody five by five foot cell, where she barely had enough room to pace or lie flat on her back.

It was enough to drive even the sanest mad. Not that she had ever been particularly sane, such was the curse of being the eldest Black. Her bloody descended ten? Maybe eleven? Generation's back had gone and bloody got their whole family cursed. A curse of madness they called it and oh she could be quite mad. The crazy witch is what they called her, her mind tainted by a madness that only finding her magical soulmate could ever stabilise.

It had been oh so nice to feel that peace, she was certain of that. Her witch had been everything while she had her. Even more delicious was the fact Bellatrix had been able to steal her away from the blasted 'light' right under the nose of their disgusting saviour Dumbledore.

But that was the past and this was now and Bellatrix could not afford to let herself think of her. That only led to aggravating the madness in her mind and she couldn't have that. Not when she could finally sense her Lord growing stronger. The dark mark burning and pulsing gently as if to remind then all that their Lord was still put their. A little indisposed right now but still there and oh she couldn't wait for the day he arose again. He'd reward her greatly for her loyalty. That she knew.

He'd praise her and hopefully, hopefully he'd allow her the revenge she so desperately wanted. Needed. Craved. The buffoon had killed her witch and she wouldn't rest until Albus Dumbledore lay a shrivelled waste of decaying flesh and bones at her feet.

She cackled at the image that thought provoked. Oh she'd show them mad alright. Merlin knew it would be so easy to let the madness induced haze she felt whenever she used her magic, slip forth and encompass her. It would make things so much more interesting she was certain. The madness made her unpredictable, and the darkness she could channel when that happened was the most addicting feeling she could remember. But none could ever say the unpredictable nature she possessed made her careless, sue wasn't the brightest witch of her generation for nothing. No, she knew how to use the madness, more than her ancestors had, never fully letting herself get lost in it. Always finding a way to remain on this side of sane. She had let them all make their assumptions about her.

Blame her evil on the madness, they didn't need to know that her cruelty wasn't a result of the madness. She didn't need the madness to enjoy the pained screams and pitiful begging of her enemy's. She revelled in them. But she always had enjoyed the more sadistic things in life. She wouldn't be a Black if she hadn't been brought up as such.

Her ability to enjoy others pain and destruction had served her well in life, especially as her Lords most loyal, she was his right hand. For good reason. She hadn't met anyone yet who was so equipped at getting the more destructive jobs done. Except her witch but that wasn't a thought she could entertain not if she wanted to keep her head as clear as possible. Her witch would be avenged. All in good time.

As suddenly as she thought about that her arm burned fiercely and the dark witch hissed, whipping her arm out to examine her mark and oh!!! She cackled, a bright gleeful if somewhat menacing sound that for once was echoed by those around her, confirming what she could see with her eyes.

The mark once a faded grey now stood a startling bold black against her pale skin and that only meant one thing.

Her Lord was back.

She would have her revenge.

~ unknowns pov ~ 24th June 1995 ~

LOCATION: Azkaban solitary confinement wing...

She shivered curling herself up as small as she could possibly get in the singular metal bed. It's mouldy threadbare mattress hardly enough to soften the press of cold metal against her too thin frame.

She wondered how long she had been here, locked in this cell below the surface of Azkaban's residents. A cell that often filled with stagnant water, leaking in from the sea and dripping down the cracks of the eroded stone surfaces that made the prisons walls. The magical cuffs around her wrists suppressing her ability to even feel her magic were heavy but her body had decreased in such a way that she knew if she just had a little more patience she would be able to slip them off.

If she could slip them off then maybe she had a chance of connecting with her love or even her baby, to let them know she was alive and where she was. She knew Bellatrix would come for her if only she knew she was here.

Albus had told her that her witch believed her dead, that the whole wizarding world believed her long dead. But she had been there since February 1979 and she had no idea what day it was now, let alone what year. She had lost track of time somewhere around the year mark, staring at the same four walls, with no contact from anyone apart from a house elf who delivered meals irregularly. Ensuring she got enough food and water to stay alive but nothing more.

It had been hard, more difficult than she liked to admit to hold on to her sanity. It would have been so easy to give in completely. To let the drip drip drip carry her mind away, to lock her kind down safe and sound and escape this reached place, at least escape it in her mind. But she couldn't, she wouldn't. She had to get free.

And if she had any hope in doing so she had to remain sound of mind. She had to, for the sake of her baby, her witch, her family. They were out there. Albus had said as much.

At first he had told her he killed her baby the night he stole her little infant from her arms but over time he had let slip that she was out there, alive and well. It had been in the little things he said when he visited occasionally. How he spoke of her child in the present tense and not in the past. How he mumbled under his breath sometimes when he thought she had finally drifted off to sleep about how much trouble this all was proving and how he liked to remind himself to be vigilant less she discover the truth.

But still she played along, letting him believe she thought her child dead, while she secretly filed away all the witch ways she would make that man suffer when she got free because for her it wasn't if she got free but when. She had two witches that needed her. Her family needed her. They didn't know she was there, trying to get to them but she needed to get to them.

A sudden blinding burning sensation on her arm had her gasping and choking on her breath all at once. Her body so malnourished that she couldn't deal with much outside stimuli in the slightest, every movement she made was painful so this burning on her arm was excruciating. Through the haze of magic she felt a burst of magic pulse through her, so strongly it almost knocked her over and suddenly she wasn't in her own mind anymore.

She was in the stands of what looked to be some sort of competition gazing at a young boy who was sobbing and screaming, clutching a body to his chest and if she hadn't already known he was dead she would have swore that the boy she could see was James Potter. Just a James Potter a few years younger than she remembered him.

And Fuck if she didn't know better that was James Potter's child. So Lily did stop her torment of the lad and spread her legs for him. That wasn't much of a surprise. She would have felt bad for thinking so derogatively of them, they had been her best friends at one point, that was until she knew better, until her witch had found her, made her see sense about the mud bloods and their sympathisers. Those that would see their traditions fall, label what was natural as abnormal, trying to eradicate that which they were proud of.

And Albus fucking Dumbledore was the worst of them, spouting his bullshit about equality of blood status when he knew perfectly fine it wasn't about that. The bloody war wasn't about blood status though those her witch and she thought of as mud bloods may have non magical blood in their families, it was about them trying to eradicate generations of tradition with their own prejudices.

But she would get her revenge. She could feel it now, taste the lapping jaws of freedom that were just within her reach. Especially now she knew she was connected to either her child or her witch if only she could get the bloody connection to work properly between them. If only she were strong enough to push through whoever's shields and access their mind she would be able to speak with them properly. As it was the burst of magic only got her mind to make the initial connection so Merlin knew it would be a miracle if who ever it was on the other end sensed her.

She knew if it were her witch she would. Her witch was the brightest of their generation of course so she would know straight away that she was alive if she had connected with her witches mind, she would even have known how to connect their minds fully. So it had to be her baby, her little girl. But Godric she couldn't get the connection to strengthen enough to talk to her, to have her child seek out the truth, to let her child know that Albus Dumbledore was the vile man who had taken her from her mama and mother before her mother ever got the chance to know about her.

But it was only a matter of time, now that their Lord was back and she knew she had a connection with her child she knew she'd be freed and then she'd get her revenge on that vile idiotic man because no one messed with her family and got away with it. She'd make sure of that.

Her Lord was back.

She would be freed and she would have her revenge.