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Le Torturé

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Darkness was only interrupted by shadows cast by fluttering flames in the fireplace. A dark haired witch sat in solitary silence, the only sound coming from those very same fluttering flames. The crackling sound did nothing to break the concentration of the witch. Her long nails rapped over the wooden armrest of her chair, scratching the surface over and over. 


Waiting. She was waiting with bated breath for word from her Master. Word that he had succeeded. It was the thirty-first of October 1981 and he had gone after Harry Potter in an attempt to defeat a prophecy. 

She’d suggested in front of her peers to go with him. 

'You dare question my ability?'

"Of course not. Never my Lord." And she had shrunk back into herself

She'd nearly begged behind closed doors. 


"I just do not think it wise, my Lord." Robes fluttering around her frame as she followed behind him, just a few feet, paying no mind to the snake that seemed to try to trip her up. "What if this is a trap?" 

'While I value your loyalty, Bellatrix, do not doubt my willingness to kill you as well if you interfere.'

Doubt him, she dared not. She had been on the receiving end of his wand and his curses before. As his protege, she had learned early not to disappoint, not to defy or she would suffer the consequences. 


A some point hours later in the dark of the night, she had risen from her chair, pacing the perimeter of her sitting room. Her heels added to the sound of the crackling fire, but still the room was silent otherwise. And then she froze, the tapping of her feet silenced. She felt it. She felt it as a physical pain. She felt it as if it were her own body, her own soul with which was being torn apart. There was a shift in the air, she could feel it. The way the hairs raised on the back of her neck. It was as if the balance of energy had changed in the width of a second.


She thrived in the darkness and the powerful energy she could always feel as if it were a second skin - the power of her Lord. But suddenly.... suddenly it was not there. 

She stood in frozen silence, searching desperately for anything... anything that would convince her she was wrong... that he wasn't gone. 

But, his energy was just gone. Vanished. As if he had vanished. 

Her mind reeled at the thought. 

No, that couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible. A baby? A bloody baby could not possibly be his downfall. He was stronger than this, this prophecy, this infant. He was the most powerful wizard she knew. His power put hers to shame and by Merlin's blood she was a force to be reckoned with. 


Her silently racing mind was interrupted by the sound of her husband's voice. 

'Bella... what is it, my love?'

But the look she turned on him was dangerous, icy blue eyes turned to molten steel in the oncoming rage. How could he not feel it too? The absence in the air? She was torn between sobbing and screaming. But no, crying was weakness and she was not weak and so she did the only other thing that felt natural to her. 

"Crucio!" to Rodolphus's credit he was able to stand the damaging curse for far longer than most, he having grown used to the only way his wife knew to cope. That didn't mean Bellarix let up any sooner than his knees hit the ground though, stalking towards her husband as a mountain lion would a fawn it intended to make dinner. 


She knelt in front of him, coming nose to nose with Rodolphus as he panted, trying to regain his breath. "He is gone you fool, don't you feel it?" It was little more than a whisper, but her anger and distress filled each word. 

She was on her feet again before Rodolphus even had time to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Bellatrix hurled herself across the room, throwing open windows that had seen many lifetimes of Lestrange family members. She leaned out of the third story window and for a split second her husband thought she meant to kill her self and he wouldn't put it past her in her state of obvious distress. Just as her wand raised to the sky, painted lips shouting "Morsmorde" skyward, Rodolphus dragged her back from the window by her waist. 


"No!" She shouted, throwing her head back - smirking as the sound of crunching cartilage sounded in her ears, his grip on her instantly loosening. She turned, momentarily distracted from her distress to see blood falling down Rodolphus's face despite his attempt to wipe it away. "Such a shame." She muttered , wiping at the crimson liquid herself, before darting back towards the window to watch the green snake and skull crawl its way across the sky. She would find the Dark Lord if she had to torture the information out of every last auror herself.