A/N:Written for Round 6 of the QLFC
Team: TutshillTornadoes (the team Cho Chang supported since she was six)
Position: Beater 1 (Reserve)
Prompt: The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Word Count: 2617
She knocks quietly at the door to a chamber.
"Come in!" says a hoarse voice.
And she does. He is sitting on a cot, bare-chested, healing some wounds. She gasps.
"What happened to you?" she asks, her voice full of concern.
He looks at her for a moment, then answers, "Initiation. To be fully considered as part of the pack, even as the alpha, you need to go through it. And since they are werewolves, it can get… a bit rough at times."
She feels a wave of concern for this man go through her, even though she only met him a few hours ago.
Rodolphus and Bella were flooing to her Uncle's house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, when something went wrong and they were spit out the wrong grate. The floo network had undergone an unexpected malfunction and all traffic was jammed. The engaged couple had no choice but to wait in the big, dirty mansion till it got up and running. There were anti-apparition wards on it, an indicator that it was inhabited, so they set off to find their unwitting hosts.
The host, it turned out, was a muscular man, with matted hair, rotting, yet sharp teeth, and keen yellow eyes. His nails were covered in grime, and smelled of blood and fleas. Being quite familiar with the smell herself, she immediately warmed to the man who introduced himself as Fenrir Greyback. Bella had heard of the werewolf; he bit his victims early, and manipulated them throughout childhood to hate the government and all civilized society. She didn't care much for civilized society either, finding balls, galas and tea parties a complete waste of time.
After a quick chat, Fenrir had graciously agreed to host them till the Floo network was up and running again. He told them a little more about him, that he lived in here with his pack, and that he had a special experiment underway. Then he'd stopped, like an idea had popped into his head. He said that since they were there, he could unveil it then. He led them to his dungeon where there sat a huge cauldron full of a black, bubbling potion. He then assembled his entire pack, and added the final ingredient before their very eyes, the potion rose and swirled around a black tornado, slowly taking the shape of a man.
That man is currently sitting on a cot in the dungeon with scratch marks all over his torso.
Deciding to be bold, she walks into the room.
"Can I help you with that?" she asks, softly.
Another pause later, he nods. "Thank you."
Taking out her own wand, she mutters a few incantations she remembers from her sisters that heal broken skin and bruises. Andy had always loved learning healing, and even though she thought it was useless, she had obliged to learn a few basic spells. She twists her wand in the shape of a tear of the phoenix, one of the most powerful healers. His chest glows brightly for a few seconds before dimming, looking as good as new. She smiled for a second before gracefully seating herself next to the half-naked man.
"How do you know so much?" she asks.
He quirks an eyebrow. "About?"
She shrugs, "Everything. The way you talked to me at lunch, and the ease with which you use magic isn't something I would expect from a man generated out of a potion four hours ago. Everything. You seem… very well informed. When we talked at lunch, we talked about politics, values, and the future of the Wizarding World. Now, you are very familiar with the inner workings of a werewolf pack. Seeing as you were just generated out of a potion, I am a little surprised at your worldliness. Were books part of the ingredients?"
He laughs, before saying, "Didn't Fenrir tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
He smiles tentatively, saying. "I haven't been completely generated out of a potion. The potion was made from my remains."
Shock. Revulsion. Horror. Those are all things she should be feeling right now. Instead, she is intrigued, asking, "Your remains? So you were…dead?"
"Not entirely. I chose to end my life so I could change myself. But all that has ended is simply my physical appearance. My memory remains untouched… I had some dirty Muggle blood in me, and in my features. That was unacceptable. So, I decided to rearrange myself." he says, his voice still slightly hoarse yet suddenly chilly.
She is surprised to hear of his disdain for Muggles. It is becoming more and more popular to embrace these useless nitwits, and she is glad a few vestiges of sense still remain.
"Interesting," she mutters. She has been against such filth since the beginning, hate and repulsion that was partially filtered down from her parents, partially all her own. She knows she is right, but having someone else share your belief always makes you feel validated.
"Tell me more about you, before." This time her voice is louder.
"Before I became this?" he asked coldly.
She nodded. "I am very interested in finding more out about you. You seem like a very righteous man, and I am curious as to what motivates you, what drives you."
He smiles, and his face looks even more… distorted. It fascinates Bella to no end. When he smiles, his dull skin brightens, in a stark contrast to the rest of his body. A hint of his yellow teeth peek from his lips, and… even a dimple graces his left cheek.
"I lead a simple life. All I want is to purify all magical bloodlines. By any means possible. Too long have we wizards, gifted with such power, downplayed our abilities for Muggles. We do not need them. Not even as slaves, as we have house-elves for that. They have absolutely no purpose other than impeding our lives from embracing our abilities and not being afraid of the Statue of Secrecy. The purer the blood, the stronger the magic." He speaks with confidence, head held high. In that moment, he shines. The dirty dungeon is not a very glamorous place, filled with cobwebs and dust, but in that moment, Bella feels like she is witnessing the birth of a glorious revolution.
Another chill runs through her. This time, it is triggered by the assertiveness of the wizard before her. To have survived death proves he is a remarkably skilled and resilient sorcerer, and his ambition lights a similar desire within her to help him. He had just expressed what she had been feeling for a long time. That fire of conviction she had let go of after her engagement, comes back with a vengeance. She is eager to fight; to fight for what she believes in.
She lets her eyes trace his features. He does not look human. Gleaming scarlet eyes, pale skin, smooth scalp, hints of a long nose, lips that are drained of all colour. No, he is not human. He is a God.
"May I?" his questions shakes her out of her thoughts. He is pointing at a thin black piece of cloth behind her. He wants to get dressed.
Silently she hands him the fabric, which he wears with fluid movements.
"I am pleased to know what you think of me," he says, once dressed.
She is startled. "I did not say a word."
He smiles that inhumane smile again and remarks, "Yet I know you think of me as a God."
Her breath catches in her throat. "I have never met a Legilimens that could break through my barriers." She has been trained since a young age to bar inquisitive idiots from her mind. Her parents warned her how many powerful wizards were skilled Legilimens and desired to bring down the Black family for doing what they believe in. "You must be truly formidable."
"I am., he says with utter certainty. "Your barriers were the strongest I have ever come across. What is your family name?"
"Black. I was Bellatrix Black, daughter of Cygnus Black."
For a split second, she sees a flicker of surprise in his scarlet eyes.
"Black? Well it seems I stumbled upon a member of the purest family of all," he says, sounding interested.
She rushes at the opportunity, eager to please "Our family motto is 'Toujours Pur'. I have a sister who married into the Malfoy family."
"The Malfoys are one of my most loyal supporters. If you were to join me, you would have very useful ties."
She stops for a second. "J-Join you?"
His gaze sharpens. "Yes. Join me. You would be doing your family and yourself a great favor. I would be pleased to have both your husband-to-be and you to join me. We would make a formidable team, bringing vengeance on our enemies and letting nothing stop us from our goal. And when we inevitably win, you will be rewarded most of all for believing early on."
Suddenly, she remembers Rodolphus, having a chat with Fenrir in the lounge. Feeling guilty, she widens the gap between her and the man before her. Rodolphus. Her family wants him for her. And she is already promised to him. She is a woman of honour. She cannot be swayed by annoyingly attractive super wizards.
He seems to sense her change in mood. He inches forward. "You would be…invaluable to me."
She is paralyzed; elated at the thought this man is talking to her in such a suggestive manner. She feels completely drawn in. As he inches closer, her mind draws up justifications for the deed she is about to commit. Who is she? Cattle? She will not be promised to anyone. Her whole life she listened to her family. It is time she does something for herself. Besides, no one expects Rodolphus to be faithful. Why should she?
He keeps moving closer to her till their faces are only inches apart.
"You have already shown your magical skill by healing me," he whispers. "I want to see what else you can do."
She closes her eyes, completely swept away by the charm of the man. At this point, he could ask anything of her, and she would oblige. He however, makes no further move. After realizing that, she opens her eyes again.
"What do you want to me do?"
He licks his lips. "Joining me requires certain… parameters. Mudbloods and filthy Muggles will be eradicated. Show me what you would do to them. Show me how much pain you can bring scum. Can you bring them to their knees? Can you make them beg? Can you torture them to hell and back without any aggressive behavior from them?"
Her heart beats wildly. Her hands are trembling. Her eyes are bright, excited. "Bring me a target, and I will."
He backs away, and pulls up his sleeve. For the first time, she notices a giant red snake tattoo on his forearm, coming out of a skull. She feels incredibly aroused at the thought of being branded like cattle by this dream of a wizard, even though she had just objected to the same treatment from her parents and from Rodolphus. He presses one long pale finger to it and it burns black.
"What is that?" she asks.
"A method of communication between me and my… friends," he answers.
No later than a minute later, Fenrir rushes through the door. "You called?"
The man looks at him and commands, "Bring me your least useful beast."
Fenrir looks uncertain for a second, but the harsh look sent him cowering to find him.
Bella guesses why that command had been so specific. She will kill the beast, and prove herself to be worthy to join the formidable wizard beside her.
"What about Rodolphus? How shall he prove himself?" she asks.
He glances at her, saying. "He doesn't need to. I am convinced a formidable witch such as yourself would have been promised to an equally formidable wizard."
She laughs. "Oh no. My family decided he was a perfect suitor based on his stellar bloodlines, and he is a great wizard, but he comes nowhere close to me. To put it into perspective, the most creative curse he can come up with is Diffindo, because he loves seeing blood spurt from his victims. He can barely hold the Cruciatus for a minute. I have for twenty."
He is barred from replying by the arrival of a pale, thin and undernourished girl.
"I'm Astrid. Fenrir said you asked for me."
Bella turns to face her. "Oh hello, Astrid. Why don't you come in?" her voice is a perfect mix of friendliness and charm.
And she does, slightly timidly. The girl settles herself in a chair as Bella silently locks and wards the door to prevent the noises from going out. She doesn't seem to notice.
"You are really pretty, Astrid," says Bella, standing up from the cot and walking towards her prey, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"Erm…thanks?" she says uncertainly.
Leaning in, just as the wizard had done a small while ago, her voice changes. "That wasn't a compliment." And with that, she slashes her wand across the girls face and makes several deep cuts along her nose, lips and forehead. The gashes start bleeding heavily as she shouts in pain.
"Not so pretty anymore, are you?" mocks Bella. When Astrid doesn't answer, she gets angry and inflicts a few more cuts on her body.
The girl is crying, trying to shield herself with her hands, but it was useless. No one was safe from Bellatrix. Not the girl who had dared to make fun of her at Hogwarts, or the boys who called her names behind her back, and especially not the innocent bystander to any evil thing she planned in public. Do not even get her started on all the Ministry officials that tried to restrain her that one time.
Seemingly getting bored from the blood, Bella dials it up a notch with her specialty, "Crucio!"
The girl starts screaming and writhing, only kept in place by the metal constraints that Bella had conjured.
A manic smile spreads across the face of the dark haired woman as she listens to the screams. Bella feels a rush through her body, an exhilaration that nothing else could provide. She remembers her excitement when her parents taught her the curse. Cissy and Andy had also learnt it with her, but she was the best at it, took the most pleasure. Cissy had done well, Andy had barely passed, but she, she excelled at it. Her favorite time is probably the current moment, but beside that, it would have been the time she accidentally drove a First-Year insane after challenging herself to keep it up as long as possible.
She lifts the curse and turns to the wizard, an eyebrow raised.
He looks at her, his lips stretched in a smile, gleaming eyes. "Finish it."
Her grin broadens. "With pleasure."
She then turns back to her panting victim with a flourish and waits till the girl looks her right in the eye. "Avada Kedavra."
The green light shoots from her wand, hitting the girl who immediately goes limp.
"Well done." She hears him say. Bella faces him again as he continues. "You are truly a find. Worthy of my mission. You shall receive my mark."
She bows her head slightly in gratefulness. "What can I call you?"
"Whatever you like, Bella," he says in that high voice of his.
"Thank you… my Lord."
A twitch of his lips betrays his stoic expression as his lifts his wand and engraves the skull and snake into her skin. "Mordsmordre!"
A/N: This is my first take on Bellatrix/Voldemort. Hopefully the prompt is clear. Never written anything so dark before.