A/N: This is something different from what I normally write, but it's been thrashing around inside my brain since book six. This won't have any spoilers, don't worry, but I became curious about the Black sisters for some peculiar reason. Now, most of you hate anything I write that isn't Lily/James, but I want to try something new. You can love it or hate it (although I'd prefer the former), but at least I gave it a shot. Now please, be kind and leave a review. I'd love to hear what you all think.
Summary: Connected by a name, the Black sisters take on three different roles in the magical community. This three-chapter installment takes you into the minds, hearts, and souls of three very different women.
Paint It Black
Part One: Bellatrix
Sadistic is an adjective that has a very colorful meaning. It describes one who finds pleasure in other's pain. Some acquire this characteristic over time; some are merely born with it. I, however, am a little bit of both.
The eldest of my siblings, I was supposed to be their leader. I was supposed to guide my sisters through life, sharing the wisdom and virtues I was to supposedly possess. My parents, two pureblooded wizards, explained this to me twice. First when Cissy was born, then again when Andromeda joined our family. They never counted on my lack of cooperation. They never knew whom they were dealing with.
As a little girl, my mum and my aunt would meet once a week for tea. I would be given the chance to explore my surroundings. I was given the freedom most children craved. The children refused to play with me, somehow sensing that there was something unusual about me. Their parents merely laughed it off, saying, "How bad can a seven year old girl be?"
My mother would hold Narcissa in her lap while I would seek revenge upon my tormenters. They were right to sense something about me. I won't deny that. Even as a young child, I instilled a certain amount of fear; something I am proud of to this day.
My first memorable incident happened right after my seventh birthday. A small girl of the name Doris Crockford, blonde, bland, and boring, held her pet toad in her arms as she walked down the street. My dark eyes focused on her, contemplating whether or not she was a worthy candidate for playtime.
"Hello," I had said politely, grinning down at her toad.
"Hi," Doris mumbled quietly. I could already tell I was making her nervous.
"Can I see your toad?" I inquired innocently.
"Um, I don't know. I'm supposed to be walking to my Auntie's right now," Doris explained, walking off quickly. "Bye!"
Although I was usually immune to emotion, at seven years old I felt my hurt. I was rejected, something that rarely ever happened to me. Instead of dwelling on it in sorrow as most children would do, I swore to make Doris Crockford pay.
Even at a young age, I was already showing signs of being a sadist. I found out where Doris lived from my aunt, who spoke badly of the Crockford family in general. She pointed me in the right direction. That was all I needed.
One afternoon, I hid behind a large willow tree in the Crockford's back yard. A small pond with goldfish lay off to the edge and Doris was splashing her feet merrily.
"Doris!" an older woman called from the window. "Supper time."
"Coming," Doris groaned. She set her pet toad into the pond and walked into her house for dinner.
I grinned in delight. I casually walked over to the pond, not wanting to frighten the toad, and scooped him up stealthily. I walked out of the Crockford's yard and back to my own home. I couldn't let my mum or aunt see the toad, as they were very old fashioned and wouldn't approve, so I decided to hide him in my backpack.
I took that toad into my room and sat for what felt like hours. I wanted to hurt the toad, just as Doris had hurt me. I sat and plotted for the longest time, skipping my own dinner to concentrate on my task. I watched the green amphibian crawl around on my desk and I thought of Doris' face. Somehow, magically, I managed to destroy the creature.
My parents had always found me to be rather intelligent, which was the truth. I knew that with a lot of concentration and emotion, I could make things happen. I knew that the Black family was pureblooded and that I was destined to go to Hogwarts and study magic when I was eleven. I knew that there was magic within me. I used this for my own advantage.
The children of the neighborhood grew fearsome of me. My first taste of power was satisfying. With their fear, I felt stronger. This didn't change when I turned eleven and started my journey to Hogwarts.
Narcissa was two years behind me and a very quiet girl. She was as pale as I was dark and was into keen observation. She watched my every move when she could, seemingly studying me. As an older sister, I intrigued her.
The Black's were infamously known as a prominent pure blood family, all having been sorted into the house Slytherin at Hogwarts. I was no exception. Although it took me some time, I found my family at school. I was not the only individual that craved power. We all had certain amounts of stealth, ambition, and cunning within us. Together, we learned to use this power.
In my seventh year, I was introduced to my master. The Dark Lord had only just started his reign and was hardly well known, but he entranced me. His proper name was Tom Riddle, but he called it a 'fool's name'. We were to call him master. There was about six of us altogether, including my future husband, Rodolphus. Out of all six, he chose me. He worked with me for two years, training me to become proficient in the Dark Arts. Those two years taught me more than Hogwarts ever had. I became a notorious dueler, a match for even my master.
My master taught me that I should embrace my destiny and seek out the power that was rightfully mine. He knew how strongly I felt about the same issues Salazar Slytherin himself had once spoken on.
As a Black, I am conscious of the fact that the magical community was turning to scum before my eyes. Mudbloods and muggles were roaming our streets, infesting our schools, and practicing our magic. Their blood was not pure, was not good enough, for Hogwarts or the Ministry. The fact that Dumbledore was allowing muggleborn into the school infuriated me. My master knew that I was becoming the warrior I was destined to be. He knew that with all my beliefs and virtues, I was a fit fighter and his most loyal servant.
Narcissa has refused on several occasions to join our ranks. She does not, however, openly disapprove of our cause. She was there beside me when I was branded with the Dark Mark. Her husband, Lucius Malfoy, is a good friend and an honored member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. She has not disgraced our name, but she also has not embraced it.
Andromeda wouldn't even look me in the eye when I offered her the opportunity of a lifetime. We could share something other than a name and she blatantly refused. Not only that, she is promised to marry a mudblood of the surname Tonks. Her behavior disgusts me and brings shame upon our family.
I don't understand how the two of us were spawned from the same two people. She isn't worthy of the name Black and she never will be. Only I, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, am honored. I made the proper marriage, I joined the most elite cause, and I am devoted to the Dark Lord.
I am the only true Black in this family. We consist of a sadist, a ninny, and a rebel. The Black women may share the same last name, but we definitely don't share the same loyalties.
A/N: This was short and it was meant to be. They're not going to be long. There will be three chapters total. I hope you liked it. I thought I could expand a bit more on the three Black sister's personalities. Tell me what you think.