Bellatrix Black was an anomaly, even among the notoriously peculiar Black family. Where her siblings and cousins chased status, ambition, and dominance, Bellatrix veered onto her own path of obsessive passion and endless curiosity. She wasn't interested in bloodlines or power plays. She craved mastery—whether it was gardening, music, or the perfect sourdough loaf.
Her Hogwarts years cemented her as an outsider to her family's ideals. Sorted into Hufflepuff to her shock and her relatives' horror, Bellatrix discovered a different kind of power: the joy of loyalty, fairness, and hard work. She found her sanctuary not in the library or the dueling club but in the castle's kitchens, where house-elves taught her the subtle magic of baking. By the time she graduated, Voldemort's rise was in full swing, but Bellatrix had no interest in the dark arts. She was too busy perfecting her lemon tart recipe.
Years later, after cutting ties with her family, she set up The Puff and Whisk above the Leaky Cauldron, transforming a neglected backroom into a cozy patisserie. Her shop was a hit. Wizards and witches from all over Diagon Alley flocked to taste her buttery croissants, delicate éclairs, and pillowy loaves of bread. She had crafted a life far removed from the Black family's shadows.
For years, Bellatrix lived quietly. Then, one hot July day in 1991, a boy with wild black hair and striking green eyes walked into her bakery, changing her life forever.
An Unexpected Guest
The morning had been busy, with customers clamoring for fresh pastries and Bellatrix juggling orders with her usual flourish. As the rush began to fade, the bell above the door jingled softly, and a boy stepped inside.
He was small and thin, with messy black hair and oversized glasses that slipped down his nose. His clothes were far too large, hanging off his frame like hand-me-downs meant for someone twice his size. Despite this, his wide green eyes sparkled with curiosity as he took in the shelves of bread and trays of pastries.
Bellatrix watched him linger near the counter, hesitating. She put down her rolling pin, wiped her hands on her apron, and approached. "Can I help you, dear?"
The boy startled, his eyes darting to hers. "Um, yes. Please." He pointed at a tray of cookies. "One of those?"
"Chocolate chip," she said, her tone warm. "Excellent choice." She placed a cookie on a small plate. "Two sickles."
The boy fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small handful of coins. His hands trembled slightly as he counted them out. Bellatrix noticed the faint shadows under his eyes and the way he hunched, as though trying to make himself smaller.
"What's your name, love?" she asked as she handed him the plate.
"Harry," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Harry Potter."
Bellatrix froze. Her sharp eyes widened as realization struck. The Boy-Who-Lived, here, in her bakery? "Harry Potter?" she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "The Harry Potter?"
Harry flushed, his face growing redder. "Um… yes."
"Well, I'll be," Bellatrix said, her astonishment melting into a grin. "You're a proper celebrity around here, but don't let it go to your head. Tell me, Harry—how are you with a rolling pin?"
Harry blinked. "I've never used one."
Bellatrix laughed. "Well, there's a first time for everything. Do you live nearby?"
Harry hesitated, unsure how much to share. "Not really. I'm… staying for a little while."
How Harry Found the Bakery
Harry's presence in Diagon Alley was temporary but life-changing. After Hagrid had delivered his Hogwarts letter and helped him purchase his school supplies, the groundskeeper had gone to deal with other business, leaving Harry to explore for the day. Hagrid had arranged for Harry to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the night, sparing him a return to the Dursleys just yet. It was during this brief reprieve that Harry wandered into Bellatrix's bakery, drawn by the comforting smell of freshly baked bread.
"What brings you here alone?" Bellatrix asked gently as Harry nibbled his cookie.
Harry shrugged. "Hagrid's helping with something. I'm staying upstairs until tomorrow."
Bellatrix's eyes softened. She had heard whispers about Harry's relatives—the Muggle family who begrudgingly raised him—and she felt a pang of sympathy. "Well, Harry, if you're around tomorrow, why don't you stop by? I could use a hand in the kitchen."
Harry's eyes lit up, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Really?"
"Absolutely," Bellatrix said. "You've got the look of someone who could appreciate a good loaf of bread."
Flour and Friendship
What started as a single visit quickly turned into something more. That summer, Harry spent much of his time at The Puff and Whisk, learning the art of baking under Bellatrix's patient guidance. She taught him how to knead dough, shape pastries, and pipe frosting. Though he fumbled at first, Harry's determination—and Bellatrix's sharp wit—made the process as fun as it was rewarding.
For Harry, the bakery became a sanctuary. The warmth of the ovens, the smell of cinnamon and sugar, and Bellatrix's lively humor made him feel safe and valued in a way he never had with the Dursleys. He began to confide in her, sharing stories of his life at Number Four, Privet Drive, and his excitement about going to Hogwarts.
Bellatrix, in turn, found joy in Harry's company. His curiosity reminded her of herself at his age, and she quickly grew fond of the boy who seemed to soak up every bit of knowledge she shared.
"You've got a natural knack for this," she told him one day as he shaped dough into rolls. "Maybe there's a baker hidden in that wizard heart of yours."
Harry grinned. "Maybe."
A Bond Forged Over Baking
When September arrived, Harry returned to Hogwarts, leaving Bellatrix with a rare pang of sadness. She had grown used to his presence in the bakery, his laughter filling the quiet afternoons. Still, she smiled as she watched him leave, knowing he would be back.
And he was.
Every summer, Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron and to Bellatrix's bakery. Their bond grew deeper with each passing year, built on trust, laughter, and the shared magic of baking. For Harry, Bellatrix became more than a mentor—she was family. And for Bellatrix, Harry was the proof that a little kindness and a lot of flour could create something truly special.
A.N. The chapters are written as one-shot. There will be time jumps back and forth as we go. It's a collection of collected one-shots.