Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything in their magical world. These characters and their world belong to the talented J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

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The violent wind caused her hair to flail around erratically as she fell to the ground, trying to catch her breath. Bellatrix had been running for hours and had no idea where she was. All she knew was that she was surrounded by a deep, dark, foreboding forest. She was uncertain as to whether she could ever find her way out, but in that moment she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was escaping them and their angry, accusing eyes.

But of course, there was no escape. In her heart, she knew that. You couldn’t outrun the dead. Once you were haunted, it was up the spirits when you would regain your freedom. She knew that hers was long gone. The Longbottoms would not give her life back. Why would they? She had taken their lives—made them insane. They were only returning the favour.

However, she could be grateful for the few moments that they were not at her side—glaring at her. This was one of those few blissful moments. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees, allowing her mind to drift back to the last time she had seen the Longbottoms alive.

Her mind had been clouded with rage and disbelief. Her master was gone—killed by an infant. She wouldn’t have believed it possible, except that it happened. At the time, she had felt so lost and frightened. All her life, she had waited for pure-bloods to rise to their appropriate place in society. Without the Dark Lord, she was no longer confident that they would be able to do that. The thought of spending the rest of her days being considered equal to filth sickened her. There had to be a way to fix it.

And all the sudden, Rabastan arrived on her doorstep with Barty Crouch Jr. sprouting stories about the Longbottoms. For some reason, they were convinced that their master was not dead. Bellatrix had not questioned their ramblings or their reason. The thought of her precious master being alive was too much to give up simply for the sake of logic. So she believed their insane words, without question, as did her husband. They went along to the Longbottom’s home, desperate to find their fallen master.

Looking back on it, Bellatrix realized that there was no way the Longbottoms could have known where their lord was. They had nothing to do with the battle at the Potters. When they arrived at the house, there was a good chance the Longbottoms weren’t even aware that the Dark Lord was gone and the Potters were dead. But she had refused to see reason that day. Two people had lost their sanity because of her refusal to see logic. Soon, she would be insane as well.

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that night—remembered their screams. They had pleaded for their lives, claiming to know nothing of the Dark Lord or what had become of him. Of course, they were telling the truth, but the four Death Eaters could not see past their own grief and fear. The Death Eaters could not accept that their master was gone—the filth had won.

The screaming went on for hours. She couldn’t remember cursing them, but she was sure that she had. She would have been brutal. She would have done anything to have her master back. Their lives would have meant nothing to her; after all, they were blood-traitors.

Not wishing to think about the past any further, she raised her head from her knees, glancing around her surroundings. The darkness had settled in and she could see nothing. This didn’t bother her. She was used to the darkness. In Azkaban there had never been light. She remembered wondering if all light had been taken from the world or if she had simply gone blind. At the time, she had been too weak to really care either way.

As her eyes darted around the blackness, a gasp escaped her throat when the darkness was interrupted by two glowing, white figures. They were back. Her body began to tremble as she attempted to get to her feet. Fresh tears came to her eyes. She would never escape.

And suddenly, she felt no desire to escape. She no longer wished to run and hide. She could not hide; they would always find her. There were no choices available to her. It was time for her to face the ghosts—to face her past.

Ignoring her trembling legs, she forced herself to her feet and stood facing the spirits. She did nothing—simply waited for them to come to her. They would release their vengeance and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

The glowing figures swarmed her. Once again, her mind was filled with their screams. Only this time they didn’t stop. The screaming continued inside her mind. At first, she prayed for it to stop, but no one would listen to her prayers. It never stopped. Soon, she lost all control of her mind. There was nothing left, but the screaming.

Huddled in a ball, she heard only their screams of anguish for the rest of her life.