Post by azkabanangel on May 26, 2009 15:03:24 GMT -5
You are in my dreams. You are my sweetest and most infinite darkness, the ruler of my heart. My master. My dark and glorious Lord. And I to, my Lord, am yours. I shall wait here however long it takes, however much it hurts and however much these Dementors try to suck away my resolve. It is like torture here; I feel so apart from my master and my cause. Forced to relive my darkest and most desperate memories, I twist and writhe in my own, terrible, internal pain.
Perhaps I am near death now. Sometimes, I find myself hoping that it will come to me swiftly and take me away from this world. After all, a world in which you do not exist, is hardly worth living in. I scold myself for such imagining, you would never, never condone a willing death. Death is the ultimate failing. The ultimate betrayal of your majesty.
I feel quite clearly now, in my despair, life slipping gradually away from me. I cannot let it. I will not let it. In the darkness of my Azkaban cell with Dementors gliding silently past my cell at regular intervals, filling my lungs with deathly cold, I begin. For the millionth time, I fix my sliding mind on you. Your face, your hands, your very being are imprinted on my heart. I cast my mind back to you and remember the only time in which I, Bellatrix Lestrange, was truly happy.
And I hold on. For you.
######
I remember now, oh God how I remember, the first time I heard your name. I was sitting in the kitchen with father, mother and Cissy. Andromeda was not there. She never was anymore; a blood traitor even then she kept her distance from us.
“Of course they have the right idea, you know, those Death Eaters. I think it’s disgusting how our blood lines have been allows to become so…so contaminated” my father was lamenting.
“Naturally. But all that bloodshed. Is it really necessary?” my mother sighed, flattening out the creases of my father’s work robes with a casual flick of her wand. “I mean, surely everyone can see how undesirable it to have all those Mudbloods polluting our world. You’d think they’d be happy to just go back where they came from. They can’t think they really belong here”
“The Dark Lord is merciful,” my father replied “He is simply working for the greater good. He doesn’t want to spill blood, even that of worthless Mudbloods, just to create a better world for us.” My ears pricked. The “Dark Lord”. His name, even then, seemed exciting. Intoxicating.
“Who is he?” I asked my father “The Dark Lord”
“My dearest Bella, I should have known you’d be drawn to a cause such as this. What a good girl you are; your father’s daughter”. My father proceeded to explain to me about The Dark Lord, his vision of a supreme, pure wizarding race, his might, his power. He told me about his followers, the Death Eater and how they are loyal to the Lord before all others and how he shines down upon them and glorifies them.
It is then, at the age of only eighteen years old, that I know my destiny. I want to join the Dark Lord. I want to be a Death Eater and feel his approval. I will be his most favourite. His most loyal. I long to be his Queen.
When, a few days later, a picture of the Death Eaters emblazons the front page of The Daily Prophet, I tear the picture from the paper and pour over it by candlelight. I trace a trembling finger over the scene: the Death Eater’s black hoods, the Dark Mark lingering like a pale green ghost in the air, the tongues of flames rising into the air and crowing the noble men beneath. I wish I could step into the picture and join them.
I know I must join them so, I take the first step. In the dead of night I rise from my bed and scribble a letter on a piece of parchment. I attach the letter to my owl’s leg and send her off into the light. The name on the letter glints in the moonlight; the only one who can get my what I want. Lucius Malfoy.
######
“Bella, my dear Bella, how are you? And the beautiful Narcissa too! ” Lucius swept through the ornate mahogany door. “And Mr and Mrs Black, such a pleasure!” He inclined his head to my father and took my mothers hand and kissed it smartly.
“Lucius, old chap, it’s been too long,” my father pulled Lucius Malfoy into an embrace. “What news, what news?” Lucius smiled slightly.
“All in good time, Mr Black. I was hoping to have a word with the lovely Bellatrix first if you don’t mind.” My mother and father exchanged a brief furtive glance. Lucius was a good match. A very good match. He was a pure blood from a very old wizarding family. He was good-looking, in line to become fantastically rich, and he shared their ideals about blood status.
Yes, the perfect match.
“Yes, yes, of course!” my father boomed happily. “Take all the time you need, my dears. Bella, the drawing room’s free.” Nodding to my father and shooting a conspiratorial look at Narcissa, a took Lucius gently by the arm and led him up the spiral staircase and into the drawing room. Once inside, a drew my wand and, with a wave, lit the candles hanging in their brass candelabras round the room. I then turned to face Lucius Malfoy.
“Lucius”
“Bellatrix,” he drawled, “ I got your message. What makes you think I can help you?” He was smiling slyly now and sat down at the head of the long drawing table that stood the length of the room.
“You’re always taking, always telling me about the things you’ve done and about how you’re out there, working for a greater good and ridding us of all those filthy Mudbloods who dare to try to steal the magic that is so rightfully ours. You must know of the Dark Lord, must have some access…” Lucius was laughing softly to himself now and twirling his serpent-headed cane around in his fingers thoughtfully.
“Dearest Bellatrix. I had no idea you had so much…passion. Come here and I’ll show you something you’ll enjoy.” Hesitating for only a moment, I approached him and knelt down by his side.
He placed one thin, pale hand on my head and then ran his long, white fingers through the midnight black of my hair before gently caressing my cheek. Then, Lucius held out one arm and, removing his cold harm from my face, used it to push up the sleeve of his robes.
There, on the flawless white flesh of Malfoy’s forearm, was burned the image of a skull with a serpent protruding majestically out of its open mouth. The Dark Mark, for that is what it was, the same one I had seen rising above the Death Eaters’ figures in the Prophet, was a black stain on the pure whiteness of Lucius’s flesh. The area surrounding it was covered in harsh, red welts as if the mark had been only recently burned into his body. I reached out a trembling finger,
“Don’t touch it!” Lucius bellowed, and I jumped backwards.
“But, Lucius, it’s so beautiful” I pleaded. “I just want to feel it…please?”
“Bella, if you touch my mark, the Dark Lord will be called to us now and, believe me, you do not want to feel his wrath.”
“Yes I do, Lucius. I want to see the Dark Lord. I need to talk to him. Oh, Lucius won’t you tell him about me. I want to join him!” I was on my knees again now, begging. I had never wanted anything more than I wanted to join the Dark Lord now.
“You’re only a girl,” spat Malfoy “You’re eighteen, for Merlin’s sake. What could the Dark Lord possibly want with you?”
“I will serve him!” I cried, “I will serve him forever!” by now I was on the floor, grappling desperately at Malfoy’s feet and the hem of his robes. He looked down at me, disgusted.
“Get up, girl. You look like a filthy Mudblood lying there like that.” I stood up, shame-faced and lowered my eyes to the floor. Lucius surveyed me as if I was a disobedient child.
“Please.” I whispered. Malfoy looked at me and sighed.
“Very well, Bellatrix,” he said “I will talk to the Dark Lord and I will mention you. But don’t,” he added at my triumphant squeal, “Get your hopes up.” I nodded furiously.
“Thank you, Lucius thank you. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.” At this, Lucius smiled at me once more.
“Then I suppose, Bellatrix, that you must remain in my debt.”
######
It was a little more than a week later when Lucius, once more, arrived at the Manor. This time, however, he did not go to the trouble of utilizing the large brass knocker in the shape of Slytherin’s serpent that adorned the front door. I was reading, at the time, a bulky, faded volume detailing the darkest and most terrible curses I had been able to lay my hands on. Suddenly, a loud cracking sound, a hand was on my shoulder and a whirled around sending books, parchment and ink bottles crashing to the ground. I had my wand on him in an instant; jutting into his neck. I was ready with a curse.
“Merlin, Bella, it’s only me!” Lucius’s voice brought me back to me senses and I slowly lowered my wand. Indeed, it was him, in all his pale and slender magnificence. “Good reactions, though,” he chuckled dryly. I sneered at him.
“There really was no need…”
“Oh, really. Well, if you think Mummy and Daddy want to hear the news that their precious little Bellatrix is going to be joining the Death Eaters, then be my guest. We’ll go back down now,” he spoke in a low, drawling voice and it took a minute for his words to sink in.
“Lucius, you mean…” He nodded.
“The Dark Lord believes that he may be able to find a use for you. As of yet, there are no female Death Eaters and he believes that you may have certain…shall we say “talents” that may prove valuable to him.” I could barely speak, barely breath, at this point. I was in complete rapture. I, Bellatrix Black, was going to serve the mighty Lord Voldemort. I would be his most loyal, his favourite, the Lady to his Lord. “When am I to meet him?” I asked Lucius as soon as I recovered my voice.
“We have an appointment with his Lord within the hour,” Lucius replied. “And I warn you, Bellatrix,” he said harshly, “You are to be on your very best behaviour. You are to be given the opportunity because of my intervention I shall not have you showing me up, understand?” I raised my eyes to his.
“Completely.”
“Good. Then we shall go.” With that, Lucius offered me his arm, which I took and squeezed hard in appreciation. He turned then, slowly on the spot, and the unpleasant sensation of apparition gripped me. I closed my eyes tight against the sensation and held onto Malfoy’s arm even more securely.
When I next opened my eyes, Lucius and I were standing in the lobby of what seemed to be a large and ancient castle which was not unlike Hogwarts, the school I had left only a year ago. “Where are we?” I whispered to Lucius with a strange mix of excitement and fear in my voice.
“Bruxmere Castle,” Malfoy replied. “It’s an estate in Kent that the Dark Lord has brought under his control. It’s protected of course, by many complex enchantment and only us Death Eaters can get here.”
I gazed around in awe. The room was magnificent. The floors were of a dark brown wood that shone almost black, the walls were made of glinting black stone and were generously adorned with silver and emerald Slytherin coats if arms. However, the feature of the room that really caught my attention was the ceiling. Like at Hogwarts, the top of the room was not covered by plaster or stone or even, in fact, anything remotely solid. Instead, rising above the room and into what seemed like the endless black night, was the ghostly form of a green skull that grinned down menacingly onto us.
“The Dark Mark” I breathed, and Malfoy nodded.
“This way,” he said, and took my arm once more. Malfoy led me to the door at the far end of the hall and proceeded to rap upon it smartly. “My Lord, it is I, Lucius. I bring Bellatrix Black as you requested.”
The voice that responded to Lucius’s words seemed to come, not from the room on the other side of the door but echoed around the room we were already in as if it came, at once, from everywhere, and at the same time, from nowhere.
“Send in the girl, Lucius. You may stay where you are” I exchanged one last look with Malfoy and pushed open the door.
Tentatively, I stepped into the room in which sat the man, who was, even though I had not yet met him, my everything. I glanced around me. This room was smaller than the last but was made of the same black floorboards and black stone walls. A fire stood at one end of the room but it was not like a normal fire. For one thing the flames were not orange but a strange emerald green as if someone had just thrown floo powder into them.
The second abnormal thing about the fire was that it was not crackling the characteristic tune of fires but was completely and eerily silent. The curtains, also black, were drawn against the light of the day so that no sunlight could penetrate the room. This lack of sun meant that the only source of light in the room was the silent, ghostly fire and the green glow that emanated from it.
“Bellatrix Black,” a high, cold voice said behind me. I turned slowly; careful not be betray any fear. This was my Lord, after all, and he should not see any weakness in me.
“My Lord,” I whispered keeping my eyes fixed upon the floor; sure that I was not worthy to gaze upon him. “It is such an honour…” Voldemort chuckled coldly.
“Why thank you, Ms Black. It is always a pleasure to meet those who share my vision. Master Malfoy tells me you wish to join my ranks.”
“More than anything, my Lord,” I replied, shaking in anticipation. At that moment, I felt the hand of Lord Voldemort upon my own arm in the place that Lucius’s had been earlier on that same day. This, I realised, was not the same. The pure power and might that radiated from the Dark Lord’s hand so far superior from the sudden, superficial thrill I had felt from the presence of Malfoy’s flesh on mine. As our skin, mine and Voldemort’s, made contact, the pleasure and joy that coursed through my body and into my very heart was like nothing I had ever felt before. I knew then that I had fallen for this great man, I had fallen hard and fast and irrevocably and there was no coming back from it. I would follow him to the ends of the earth and, if he so wished, into hell itself.
That hand, that glorious hand, helped me to my feet and, for the first time, I looked into Lord Voldemort’s eyes. They were like no eyes I had ever seen. They were little more than slits in the white flesh (oh, to touch that flesh!) of his cunning snake-like face and their ruby red depths seemed to be reaching into my very soul and reading the script of my heart. It occurred to me then that if my Lord was to now cut open my chest and pull forth the slithering red organ of my heart, he would find, engraved on it, his own name living forever within me.
Voldemort seemed to be studying me, drinking in my being. At last, he seemed to find what he had been looking for and he turned and began walking away from me. I drank in his full figure now; the elegance of his midnight black robes and the pure whiteness of his skin, paler and more beautiful even that Malfoy’s and emitting and moon-like radiance.
“I see true loyalty in you, Bellatrix,” Voldemort told me. “I think you can be of great use to me. In fact, I do rather think it will play to all our advantages if I tutor your in the Dark Arts myself.” At this, I truly felt that my heart might explode with happiness. The Dark Lord, teaching me the ancient arts himself! It was more than I had even dreamed of.
“My Lord, thank you,” I gasped. “It means so much.”
“Not so fast, Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord smiled. “First you much prove you are worthy.”
“Anything,” I breathed, and I knew it was true. For this man, there was no limit to what I would do. Voldemort seemed to know what I was thinking and smiled again.
“Lucius!” he cried, and at once the pattering of footsteps was audible in the lobby and the silky blonde heads of Malfoy appeared round the door.
“You called, my Lord?”
“Yes, Lucius, I did. Stand over there, please,” he ordered, and pointed with his wand to a spot in the middle of the room. Lucius obeyed immediately and took up the position.
“Now. Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord addressed me. “Before you join me and learn my secrets I must be absolutely certain that you will be loyal to me before all other and that you are willing to follow me and do my bidding whatever it may be. Once you become a Death Easter there is no backing out and, seeing as I am a kind and merciful Master, I wish to make sure you fully understand this before you make the commitment. You are a pretty little thing Bellatrix,” he said, touching my face gently with his wand, “It would be a pity if you had to be…disposed of.”
I heard his words but did not register them. All I concentrate on was his wand on my face and the sense of him that flowed through it. Whatever test me wanted me to complete, would be easy. No matter how difficult of dangerous, I would be able to complete it because I had felt his power in my heart and his might now ran through my veins.
“I will do it, my Lord,” I told him.
“Good girl,” he breathed. “I knew you were loyal. Now, what I want you to do, Ms Black, is to stand over here,” he pointed again with his wand to the spot in front of where Lucius was standing. “Raise your wand…” I did as I was told and lifted my wand level with Lucius’s chest. There was fear in his eyes now as he stared down the wand I was pointing at his with such trembling conviction. “…And say ‘crucio!” Voldemort finished.
I smiled at Lucius, my eyes never leaving his. I saw the terror in his eyes and the anticipation of pain. I saw the sweat shining on his brow and hear the murmured “Please” that sprung from his lips. I saw us a children, playing together in the garden of the Manor and us, again, in Hogwarts laughing together coping each others Transfiguration essays. And I did not care.
As I jabbed my wand and cried “Crucio!” into the stale black air, there was no pity in my heart, no remorse. As I saw Lucius writhe in pain from my curse I felt nothing. Now, there was no room in my heart for anything other than my Lord and Master: Voldemort, the man who held my heart.
Perhaps I am near death now. Sometimes, I find myself hoping that it will come to me swiftly and take me away from this world. After all, a world in which you do not exist, is hardly worth living in. I scold myself for such imagining, you would never, never condone a willing death. Death is the ultimate failing. The ultimate betrayal of your majesty.
I feel quite clearly now, in my despair, life slipping gradually away from me. I cannot let it. I will not let it. In the darkness of my Azkaban cell with Dementors gliding silently past my cell at regular intervals, filling my lungs with deathly cold, I begin. For the millionth time, I fix my sliding mind on you. Your face, your hands, your very being are imprinted on my heart. I cast my mind back to you and remember the only time in which I, Bellatrix Lestrange, was truly happy.
And I hold on. For you.
######
I remember now, oh God how I remember, the first time I heard your name. I was sitting in the kitchen with father, mother and Cissy. Andromeda was not there. She never was anymore; a blood traitor even then she kept her distance from us.
“Of course they have the right idea, you know, those Death Eaters. I think it’s disgusting how our blood lines have been allows to become so…so contaminated” my father was lamenting.
“Naturally. But all that bloodshed. Is it really necessary?” my mother sighed, flattening out the creases of my father’s work robes with a casual flick of her wand. “I mean, surely everyone can see how undesirable it to have all those Mudbloods polluting our world. You’d think they’d be happy to just go back where they came from. They can’t think they really belong here”
“The Dark Lord is merciful,” my father replied “He is simply working for the greater good. He doesn’t want to spill blood, even that of worthless Mudbloods, just to create a better world for us.” My ears pricked. The “Dark Lord”. His name, even then, seemed exciting. Intoxicating.
“Who is he?” I asked my father “The Dark Lord”
“My dearest Bella, I should have known you’d be drawn to a cause such as this. What a good girl you are; your father’s daughter”. My father proceeded to explain to me about The Dark Lord, his vision of a supreme, pure wizarding race, his might, his power. He told me about his followers, the Death Eater and how they are loyal to the Lord before all others and how he shines down upon them and glorifies them.
It is then, at the age of only eighteen years old, that I know my destiny. I want to join the Dark Lord. I want to be a Death Eater and feel his approval. I will be his most favourite. His most loyal. I long to be his Queen.
When, a few days later, a picture of the Death Eaters emblazons the front page of The Daily Prophet, I tear the picture from the paper and pour over it by candlelight. I trace a trembling finger over the scene: the Death Eater’s black hoods, the Dark Mark lingering like a pale green ghost in the air, the tongues of flames rising into the air and crowing the noble men beneath. I wish I could step into the picture and join them.
I know I must join them so, I take the first step. In the dead of night I rise from my bed and scribble a letter on a piece of parchment. I attach the letter to my owl’s leg and send her off into the light. The name on the letter glints in the moonlight; the only one who can get my what I want. Lucius Malfoy.
######
“Bella, my dear Bella, how are you? And the beautiful Narcissa too! ” Lucius swept through the ornate mahogany door. “And Mr and Mrs Black, such a pleasure!” He inclined his head to my father and took my mothers hand and kissed it smartly.
“Lucius, old chap, it’s been too long,” my father pulled Lucius Malfoy into an embrace. “What news, what news?” Lucius smiled slightly.
“All in good time, Mr Black. I was hoping to have a word with the lovely Bellatrix first if you don’t mind.” My mother and father exchanged a brief furtive glance. Lucius was a good match. A very good match. He was a pure blood from a very old wizarding family. He was good-looking, in line to become fantastically rich, and he shared their ideals about blood status.
Yes, the perfect match.
“Yes, yes, of course!” my father boomed happily. “Take all the time you need, my dears. Bella, the drawing room’s free.” Nodding to my father and shooting a conspiratorial look at Narcissa, a took Lucius gently by the arm and led him up the spiral staircase and into the drawing room. Once inside, a drew my wand and, with a wave, lit the candles hanging in their brass candelabras round the room. I then turned to face Lucius Malfoy.
“Lucius”
“Bellatrix,” he drawled, “ I got your message. What makes you think I can help you?” He was smiling slyly now and sat down at the head of the long drawing table that stood the length of the room.
“You’re always taking, always telling me about the things you’ve done and about how you’re out there, working for a greater good and ridding us of all those filthy Mudbloods who dare to try to steal the magic that is so rightfully ours. You must know of the Dark Lord, must have some access…” Lucius was laughing softly to himself now and twirling his serpent-headed cane around in his fingers thoughtfully.
“Dearest Bellatrix. I had no idea you had so much…passion. Come here and I’ll show you something you’ll enjoy.” Hesitating for only a moment, I approached him and knelt down by his side.
He placed one thin, pale hand on my head and then ran his long, white fingers through the midnight black of my hair before gently caressing my cheek. Then, Lucius held out one arm and, removing his cold harm from my face, used it to push up the sleeve of his robes.
There, on the flawless white flesh of Malfoy’s forearm, was burned the image of a skull with a serpent protruding majestically out of its open mouth. The Dark Mark, for that is what it was, the same one I had seen rising above the Death Eaters’ figures in the Prophet, was a black stain on the pure whiteness of Lucius’s flesh. The area surrounding it was covered in harsh, red welts as if the mark had been only recently burned into his body. I reached out a trembling finger,
“Don’t touch it!” Lucius bellowed, and I jumped backwards.
“But, Lucius, it’s so beautiful” I pleaded. “I just want to feel it…please?”
“Bella, if you touch my mark, the Dark Lord will be called to us now and, believe me, you do not want to feel his wrath.”
“Yes I do, Lucius. I want to see the Dark Lord. I need to talk to him. Oh, Lucius won’t you tell him about me. I want to join him!” I was on my knees again now, begging. I had never wanted anything more than I wanted to join the Dark Lord now.
“You’re only a girl,” spat Malfoy “You’re eighteen, for Merlin’s sake. What could the Dark Lord possibly want with you?”
“I will serve him!” I cried, “I will serve him forever!” by now I was on the floor, grappling desperately at Malfoy’s feet and the hem of his robes. He looked down at me, disgusted.
“Get up, girl. You look like a filthy Mudblood lying there like that.” I stood up, shame-faced and lowered my eyes to the floor. Lucius surveyed me as if I was a disobedient child.
“Please.” I whispered. Malfoy looked at me and sighed.
“Very well, Bellatrix,” he said “I will talk to the Dark Lord and I will mention you. But don’t,” he added at my triumphant squeal, “Get your hopes up.” I nodded furiously.
“Thank you, Lucius thank you. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.” At this, Lucius smiled at me once more.
“Then I suppose, Bellatrix, that you must remain in my debt.”
######
It was a little more than a week later when Lucius, once more, arrived at the Manor. This time, however, he did not go to the trouble of utilizing the large brass knocker in the shape of Slytherin’s serpent that adorned the front door. I was reading, at the time, a bulky, faded volume detailing the darkest and most terrible curses I had been able to lay my hands on. Suddenly, a loud cracking sound, a hand was on my shoulder and a whirled around sending books, parchment and ink bottles crashing to the ground. I had my wand on him in an instant; jutting into his neck. I was ready with a curse.
“Merlin, Bella, it’s only me!” Lucius’s voice brought me back to me senses and I slowly lowered my wand. Indeed, it was him, in all his pale and slender magnificence. “Good reactions, though,” he chuckled dryly. I sneered at him.
“There really was no need…”
“Oh, really. Well, if you think Mummy and Daddy want to hear the news that their precious little Bellatrix is going to be joining the Death Eaters, then be my guest. We’ll go back down now,” he spoke in a low, drawling voice and it took a minute for his words to sink in.
“Lucius, you mean…” He nodded.
“The Dark Lord believes that he may be able to find a use for you. As of yet, there are no female Death Eaters and he believes that you may have certain…shall we say “talents” that may prove valuable to him.” I could barely speak, barely breath, at this point. I was in complete rapture. I, Bellatrix Black, was going to serve the mighty Lord Voldemort. I would be his most loyal, his favourite, the Lady to his Lord. “When am I to meet him?” I asked Lucius as soon as I recovered my voice.
“We have an appointment with his Lord within the hour,” Lucius replied. “And I warn you, Bellatrix,” he said harshly, “You are to be on your very best behaviour. You are to be given the opportunity because of my intervention I shall not have you showing me up, understand?” I raised my eyes to his.
“Completely.”
“Good. Then we shall go.” With that, Lucius offered me his arm, which I took and squeezed hard in appreciation. He turned then, slowly on the spot, and the unpleasant sensation of apparition gripped me. I closed my eyes tight against the sensation and held onto Malfoy’s arm even more securely.
When I next opened my eyes, Lucius and I were standing in the lobby of what seemed to be a large and ancient castle which was not unlike Hogwarts, the school I had left only a year ago. “Where are we?” I whispered to Lucius with a strange mix of excitement and fear in my voice.
“Bruxmere Castle,” Malfoy replied. “It’s an estate in Kent that the Dark Lord has brought under his control. It’s protected of course, by many complex enchantment and only us Death Eaters can get here.”
I gazed around in awe. The room was magnificent. The floors were of a dark brown wood that shone almost black, the walls were made of glinting black stone and were generously adorned with silver and emerald Slytherin coats if arms. However, the feature of the room that really caught my attention was the ceiling. Like at Hogwarts, the top of the room was not covered by plaster or stone or even, in fact, anything remotely solid. Instead, rising above the room and into what seemed like the endless black night, was the ghostly form of a green skull that grinned down menacingly onto us.
“The Dark Mark” I breathed, and Malfoy nodded.
“This way,” he said, and took my arm once more. Malfoy led me to the door at the far end of the hall and proceeded to rap upon it smartly. “My Lord, it is I, Lucius. I bring Bellatrix Black as you requested.”
The voice that responded to Lucius’s words seemed to come, not from the room on the other side of the door but echoed around the room we were already in as if it came, at once, from everywhere, and at the same time, from nowhere.
“Send in the girl, Lucius. You may stay where you are” I exchanged one last look with Malfoy and pushed open the door.
Tentatively, I stepped into the room in which sat the man, who was, even though I had not yet met him, my everything. I glanced around me. This room was smaller than the last but was made of the same black floorboards and black stone walls. A fire stood at one end of the room but it was not like a normal fire. For one thing the flames were not orange but a strange emerald green as if someone had just thrown floo powder into them.
The second abnormal thing about the fire was that it was not crackling the characteristic tune of fires but was completely and eerily silent. The curtains, also black, were drawn against the light of the day so that no sunlight could penetrate the room. This lack of sun meant that the only source of light in the room was the silent, ghostly fire and the green glow that emanated from it.
“Bellatrix Black,” a high, cold voice said behind me. I turned slowly; careful not be betray any fear. This was my Lord, after all, and he should not see any weakness in me.
“My Lord,” I whispered keeping my eyes fixed upon the floor; sure that I was not worthy to gaze upon him. “It is such an honour…” Voldemort chuckled coldly.
“Why thank you, Ms Black. It is always a pleasure to meet those who share my vision. Master Malfoy tells me you wish to join my ranks.”
“More than anything, my Lord,” I replied, shaking in anticipation. At that moment, I felt the hand of Lord Voldemort upon my own arm in the place that Lucius’s had been earlier on that same day. This, I realised, was not the same. The pure power and might that radiated from the Dark Lord’s hand so far superior from the sudden, superficial thrill I had felt from the presence of Malfoy’s flesh on mine. As our skin, mine and Voldemort’s, made contact, the pleasure and joy that coursed through my body and into my very heart was like nothing I had ever felt before. I knew then that I had fallen for this great man, I had fallen hard and fast and irrevocably and there was no coming back from it. I would follow him to the ends of the earth and, if he so wished, into hell itself.
That hand, that glorious hand, helped me to my feet and, for the first time, I looked into Lord Voldemort’s eyes. They were like no eyes I had ever seen. They were little more than slits in the white flesh (oh, to touch that flesh!) of his cunning snake-like face and their ruby red depths seemed to be reaching into my very soul and reading the script of my heart. It occurred to me then that if my Lord was to now cut open my chest and pull forth the slithering red organ of my heart, he would find, engraved on it, his own name living forever within me.
Voldemort seemed to be studying me, drinking in my being. At last, he seemed to find what he had been looking for and he turned and began walking away from me. I drank in his full figure now; the elegance of his midnight black robes and the pure whiteness of his skin, paler and more beautiful even that Malfoy’s and emitting and moon-like radiance.
“I see true loyalty in you, Bellatrix,” Voldemort told me. “I think you can be of great use to me. In fact, I do rather think it will play to all our advantages if I tutor your in the Dark Arts myself.” At this, I truly felt that my heart might explode with happiness. The Dark Lord, teaching me the ancient arts himself! It was more than I had even dreamed of.
“My Lord, thank you,” I gasped. “It means so much.”
“Not so fast, Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord smiled. “First you much prove you are worthy.”
“Anything,” I breathed, and I knew it was true. For this man, there was no limit to what I would do. Voldemort seemed to know what I was thinking and smiled again.
“Lucius!” he cried, and at once the pattering of footsteps was audible in the lobby and the silky blonde heads of Malfoy appeared round the door.
“You called, my Lord?”
“Yes, Lucius, I did. Stand over there, please,” he ordered, and pointed with his wand to a spot in the middle of the room. Lucius obeyed immediately and took up the position.
“Now. Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord addressed me. “Before you join me and learn my secrets I must be absolutely certain that you will be loyal to me before all other and that you are willing to follow me and do my bidding whatever it may be. Once you become a Death Easter there is no backing out and, seeing as I am a kind and merciful Master, I wish to make sure you fully understand this before you make the commitment. You are a pretty little thing Bellatrix,” he said, touching my face gently with his wand, “It would be a pity if you had to be…disposed of.”
I heard his words but did not register them. All I concentrate on was his wand on my face and the sense of him that flowed through it. Whatever test me wanted me to complete, would be easy. No matter how difficult of dangerous, I would be able to complete it because I had felt his power in my heart and his might now ran through my veins.
“I will do it, my Lord,” I told him.
“Good girl,” he breathed. “I knew you were loyal. Now, what I want you to do, Ms Black, is to stand over here,” he pointed again with his wand to the spot in front of where Lucius was standing. “Raise your wand…” I did as I was told and lifted my wand level with Lucius’s chest. There was fear in his eyes now as he stared down the wand I was pointing at his with such trembling conviction. “…And say ‘crucio!” Voldemort finished.
I smiled at Lucius, my eyes never leaving his. I saw the terror in his eyes and the anticipation of pain. I saw the sweat shining on his brow and hear the murmured “Please” that sprung from his lips. I saw us a children, playing together in the garden of the Manor and us, again, in Hogwarts laughing together coping each others Transfiguration essays. And I did not care.
As I jabbed my wand and cried “Crucio!” into the stale black air, there was no pity in my heart, no remorse. As I saw Lucius writhe in pain from my curse I felt nothing. Now, there was no room in my heart for anything other than my Lord and Master: Voldemort, the man who held my heart.