Summer, 1959

'Right, Dromeda and Cissy, you be the Mudbloods, and I'll be the powerful pureblood who comes and banishes you from your home!' shouts Bella gleefully, throwing her arms wide, and we turn and run, squealing, around the grounds of our home. Bella chases us, and I turn and run backwards, watching her gallavant behind us, her clawing hands inches from our rippling hair, flying in the breeze. Her own long back locks stream out behind her, glossy, wavy and thick; her cherry red lips are pulled back in an excited grin, revealing a perfect row of pearly whites. Her raven eyes, fringed with long lashes, are like glinting in the bright light, following my every move.

Bella's always the pureblood in our game; she's the oldest, and therefore the boss. She's EIGHT, two WHOLE years older than me, and she's going to be in Slytherin when she gets to Hogwarts. I hope I'm in Slytherin when I get to Hogwarts, just like my big sister Bella. I don't want her to go though - who will look after Cissy? Who will play Mudbloods and purebloods with us? Bella talks about going to Hogwarts all the time, even though it's still three years away yet. She reckons she's going to be a prefect and Head Girl and rule over all the rest of the students - she'll be good at that, Bella will. And everyone will listen to her, because who wouldn't want to listen to my big sister Bella? She's the funniest, most beautiful big sister anyone could wish for.

I whip back around in the bright summer sunshine, willing my legs to go faster. I shriek delightedly as Bella's clawlike hands snatch at the hem of my dress; she wrenches me round, and I feel that odd thrill of something like warning, but not fear - just like I always do at this precise moment in our game. I stare into her eyes, pools of ink, and see the hunger there, the poisonous evil that sends a violent shiver rocketing up my spine. Then, it is gone, as fast as it had come, and she drops me, and streaks off after Narcissa. I lie in the grass, which is like scratchy straw on my bare legs, and tell myself adamantly, just like I always do at this precise moment in our game, that I imagined that glare full of hate that had just emanated from my big sister Bella.

***********************

I always remember those times with Bella fondly. That's how she used to be - fun, the one whom we idolised. I don't remember them with regret, or anger; I am not sorry for the loss of her. She is a murderer, or as good as - I know she is. I, of all people, should know - I was there when she first killed.

Bella was thirteen. I was eleven, and it was my first Christmas at Hogwarts. It was snowing, and we were making a snowman. It was a magnificent snowman - taller than even Bella, who was tall for her age, with coal eyes and a stony smile, and a woollen scark wrapped around its neck. The grounds of Hogwarts were beautiful; the snow glowing bright white over the trees and the hills, untouched but for where Bella and I had gathered snow for Billy, our snowman. The lake was frozen over, dotted with students skating in the distance. Otherwise the grounds were deserted.

I remember it vividly. The little robbin bobbed and stumbled on the head of Billy, and the snow crumbled slightly under his delicate weight. He chirped cheerfully, his tiny wings fluttering, his head turning this way and that.

'Stupid bird!' cried Bella, and I heard the viciousness in her tone, the sharp difference from the happy chatter we had shared moments before. I saw that same venom from all those years ago engulf her face, the same nasty need in her eyes.

It was extremely quick. Bella snatched her wand from underneath her cloak. She pointed it at the robin, eyes wide, and the words came out in a rapid stream, so quick, in fact, that I couldn't hear the words at the time. The emerald light glowed from her wand tip, eluminating our faces, Bella's entranced, mine shocked. Then the light was gone as quick as it had come, and the robin lay still atop Billy's head, the glassy black eyes staring through us. Bella's eyes, I remember, had been alight, her whole visage glowing with fascination.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Bella had stowed away her wand and flicked the robin off our snowman's head with her long forefinger carelessly, and he landed, with a dull thud, on the snowy ground. She had ran off then, to gather some more snow to smooth out Billy's head.

I had stared at the small dead bird, repulsed. Laughter floated on the chilly air back to where I stood, seeming inappropriate to my shocked brain. But then Bella had bounded back, and we had carried on with our snowman, and I put the little robin out of my mind.

I should have known, then. I should have known what she would turn into. But I loved her too much, and I pretended not to notice her change in personality. But I suppose it wasn't even much of a change; she sort of came out of her shell. She had always had it in her, really. But, stupid as I am, I pretended not to notice, I feigned ignorance. And look where that got me.


1969


'Andromeda, you are a disgrace to our family! You are not deserving of us, of your pure blood! You are no sister of mine!'

Bella screams at me, and I sob, my hands clutching at my tear-stained face as if I could hold my splintering soul together. The whole of Slytherin is crowded in the common room, wide-eyed, staring at us - Bella, the dark, ruthless beauty and me, the timid, bashful sister. As alike we are in looks, Bella always had a certain striking quality that I, so conspicuously, lacked. Whether it was her shining ebony curls, or the dark dramatic eyes, every eye was always drawn to her, as if the authority she thrived on was a necessity which was not negotiable. Now, she was standing, towering above everyone, glaring that evil, murderous glare that I had always convinced myself, as an ignorant, innocent child, I was imagining. I had become, however, over these few years, more enlightened, and gradually more disgusted at Bella's sanguinary, detrimental deeds; her dark, destructive manner.

'I am in love, Bella! I am - am -' I choke on my own words, blinded by my tears of loss and hurt and disgust.

'If you are a true Black, Dromeda, you would not fall in love with a worthless, Mudblood toerag such as HIM!' Bella screeches, screaming the last word.

I snap back to attention, any sign of weakness gone.

'DON'T YOU DARE INSULT TED!' I yell just as loud as Bella, enraged at her heartlessness.

For a moment there is nothing but shock registered on her face. I've never yelled at her properly before. Then, quick as lightening, she draws her wand. She looks demented, possessed, capable of anything, and I find that, for the first time in my life, I am frightened of her. Never in my life have I been frightened of my protector, my fearless sister. Disgusted, ashamed - yes. Never frightened. But the glower she is throwing me now severes any sisterly ties that might, possibly, have been left between us.

And in that one moment, I know that she could kill me. She will kill me.

I pull out my own wand, barely a second after Bella had drawn her own. For a second, my eyes flicker to the right, to Narcissa, who is standing in the crowd. She is still young, only fourteen - she doesn't realise what this whole thing is, that I have been disgraced by the whole family and disinherited. She will never be able to see me again without putting herself in danger. Her eyes are wide and her hair, so white compared to mine and Bella's, streams to her waist. She stares at me, her mouth slightly open. My eyes flash back to Bella. She glares at me, as if daring me to act first. We stand, under impossible scrutiny, poised to duel.

I stow away my wand, turn, and walk straight out of the common room.

I don't look round to see Bella's reaction, or Cissy's face. I walk, trembling, out onto the dungeon corridor, and sprint through the winding labyrinth, renewed tears streaming down my cheeks, splattering on my robes and shoes. I hate myself for succumbing to the terror that had engulfed me while I was standing before my sister.

I am not unable. I could duel her if I wanted; I could be a match for her. But the utter horror at the realisation of what my beloved Bella had turned into is far too much for my sincere, and, in some ways, naive mind. I could not stand there and fight her in cold blood, as she would me, knowing that no matter what she was, and no matter what she would turn into, that I still love her in my heart. Even if any love she had had for me has been abolished, I can not stand and duel her. I am a better person than her, and I still love her.

I will not stoop to her level.

You are not who I thought you were, Bellatrix Black.