A warm breeze blew through the glassless window, relieving the coldness usually occupying Bellatrix’s cell. Bellatrix smiled to herself as she leaned against the cell wall. The dementors hadn’t yet diminished her happiness that came with yesterday’s news. Her shackles seemed lighter, her hunger wasn’t bothering her as much as usual, and she was too excited to fall asleep.
My Lord has risen. He will be soon coming to rescue me, and I can return to his duty.
Last night, during a fit of blurry, terrifying nightmares swarming with dementors, Bellatrix awoke abruptly. Immediately, she knew why. Her left forearm was burning; her Dark Mark was clearer than ever and had turned the darkest black.
She jumped up and laughed maniacally, listening to her laughter echoing in her cell over and over again. This drew the attention of a dozen more dementors than her usual guard, and when they had reached her door, their presence caused her to fall back into the frightening nightmares she had just awakened from.
Now, however, it was hours later. The cold of the cell woke her, but only her usual guard of dementors remained, so she was free to stay awake and think.
How she longed to serve him. This cell had separated her from him for over fourteen years. But soon, she would be free. Free to arrive at his side the moment he summoned her. Free to kiss the hem of his robes the minute she arrived. She ached to hear his cold, powerful voice deliver speeches and instructions.
Most of all, she knew she would be honoured beyond all of the other Death Eaters. She knew she was the most loyal follower of the Dark Lord. Unlike the many others, she had been enduring Azkaban. She didn’t attempt to get out by reporting names to the Ministry. She didn’t protest her sentence during her trial. She took her imprisonment as a necessary sacrifice to her Lord.
Two hundred hostile faces glared down at them. The dementors placed Bellatrix into one of the four chained chairs and tightened the chains. Barty Crouch Jr sat to her left, and her husband, Rodolphus, and his brother, Rabastan, sat to her right. Barty was pleading with his mother and father, struggling against the chains, to avoid his Azkaban sentence. Rodolphus was cowering in his chair, looking more nervous by the minute. Rabastan’s face was blank. He seemed to think all was lost, and accepted Azkaban as the end to his life. Bellatrix, however, was sitting straight and tall, taking her imminent imprisonment in Azkaban as a mark of her loyalty to the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix watched disinterestedly as the jury raised their hands in unison, like a triumphant wave drowning its victims. Barty began to scream to his mother again. Bellatrix got up from her seat slowly with the others. She looked up at Crouch, into his livid face. He truly believed he could triumph over the Dark Lord, she thought.
“The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us in Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone are faithful! We alone tried to find him!” she shouted.
Now the Dark Lord has risen again. And he would free Bellatrix, and welcome her back into his inner circle more vehemently than before.
She ached to serve him again. She had been imagining his return again and again, making her thirst for his presence even more. Becoming his follower was the best decision she had ever made. It gave her life purpose, meaning, and fulfilled her desire to work towards pureblood domination. She felt thankful for how she first found out about the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix sat in the back of Transfiguration with a long letter in her left hand (hidden under her desk) and a ruffled quill in her right hand. McGonagall was droning on about their imminent N.E.W.T.s, but Bellatrix paid no attention. Her plans for after Hogwarts did not concern N.E.W.T. exams. The alliance she longed to join did not care about your score on some petty, Ministry-manufactured exam. The group that she craved to pledge her loyalty to was secret, determined, and soon to be very powerful.
Bellatrix had learned about this group from her mother’s older brother, Sergius. Bellatrix and Uncle Sergius regularly exchanged letters, which led Uncle Sergius to reveal his alliance with a group that aimed for pureblood domination. The letter Bellatrix had clutched in her hand described the leader of this group himself, whom Bellatrix had been itching to know about for months. She read the lengthy scroll feverishly, soaking up every fact and detail her uncle had divulged. They called him the Dark Lord and he was the most commendable person Bellatrix had ever heard of. She longed to meet him, to finally become one of his followers. When she reached the end of the letter, she yearned to know more about the Dark Lord. She knew that she would treasure this letter as the first time she discovered the him.
McGonagall began a lecture about Conjuring Spells, but Bellatrix ignored her. Under her desk, she touched her wand to the letter, which hid the words until she chose to read them again. She tucked it into the pocket of her bag that contained his past letters, which were far less exciting and informative than this one. Uncle Sergius had kept his letters very vague, to preserve the secrecy of the group, but he also wanted to tell Bellatrix everything he felt he could, because he knew what a valuable member she would be. Pretending to be taking notes, Bellatrix began to write a response to her uncle. She thanked him profusely for letting her know about The Dark Lord, and closed the letter, as she always did, with “Please let me know when I can join you.” She had been closing her letters like this for a year and a half, but Uncle Sergius still felt that she was too young to be a follower of the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix reflected on his past letters as she chewed on her quill, appearing to have taken interest in McGonagall’s explanation of the Inanimatus Conjurus spell. Uncle Sergius’s letters grew longer and more detailed with time, and Bellatrix became quite pleased that her uncle admired her enough to give her so much information. Though her interest in classes was often feigned, her interest and trustworthiness expressed in her responses to Uncle Sergius were genuine. Bellatrix knew that this group was the right place to be, and she was quite happy she had someone from the inside helping her join the Dark Lord’s followers. She signed the letter and rolled it up. The bell rang, and she left her seat and headed straight for the owlery, eager to answer her uncle.
She sighed and lay down on the stone bench in her cell. How she craved to serve him! Being a Death Eater was even better and more rewarding than she had imagined it would be when she was in school. She knew that her return to his inner circle would be honoured most highly and being a Death Eater would be more fulfilling than ever before. She stretched out as far as her tiny cell would allow, and fell asleep, with the image of her Lord’s formidable frame floating through her mind.
Toujours Pur by oliverwoodisthebest
Story Notes:
This story was developed from dancingcarrot21's plot bunny. Thank you for your plot brilliance!
Many thanks to my excellent beta OliveOil_Med.
Chapter Notes: Everything belongs to Jo.
The dialogue is taken straight from Goblet of Fire, "The Pensieve"
Chapter Endnotes: Thank you for reading! Harsh reviews are welcome!