A/N – Yeah, so I've just started this fascination with the Black sisters after Deathly Hallows. And then the other day my two best friends and I decided to portray ourselves as the Black sisters (myself Narcissa, E.A. Cooper as Dromeda, and IsabelLilyBrown as Bella. They're on here, those are their names, look them up ). Yeah, and then I was like hmm…fan fiction time! Reviews are appreciated

DISCLAIMOR- Yeah, Harry Potter isn't mine. Cause if it was, a lot of dead characters would still be alive.


A green light flashed out of the Dark Lord's wand. It hit Potter square in the chest, and he crumpled to the forest ground. The strength of the spell had pushed its initiator to the ground as well. Narcissa Malfoy stood in her place, eyes darting from Potters limp body to the collapsed Dark Lord. On His aggravated order, they all backed away, with the exception on one. Bellatrix.

"My Lord, let me…" as she held out an obliging hand.

"I do not require assistance," said the Dark Lord icily, rejecting her aid. As he rose on his own, an anxious, almost giddy look, danced across his face. "The boy…is he dead?"

Nobody dared to go near the boy, so they settled for staring intently at his body. For a group of people who faced death such as they, every single person seemed frightened by one lifeless body.

The Dark Lord quickly grew impatient with the silence of his followers. He raised his wand, and seemed to hesitate for a moment, before pointing it straight at Narcissa. A dull bang went off, as a purple beam escaped the tip and sent a small pain through her stomach.

"You," He decided. "Examine him. Tell me whether or not he is dead."

Narcissa gave a slight glance to her husband, who gave an encouraging nod. His icy blue eyes were sparkling with anxiety and fear. Eyes that reminded her of the last time she ever saw Regulus. Regulus. The one who joined the Death Eaters to please his parents. The one who found out the Dark Lords most secret plans. The one who died trying to foil them…

Narcissa shook the thoughts of her deceased cousin. Her life was dangling by a thread, in the eyes of her Lord. Thinking of that fool, that blood traitor, definitely wasn't going to help her family regain some of their former respect and glory.

Realizing the delayed reaction to the Dark Lord's command, Narcissa stepped forward to do his bidding. As she walked towards the body, she caught a glimpse of Bella's' face. The shadows of a happy childhood once lingering in her face were long gone, replaced by a sickening thirst. A thirst for power, desire for blood. Her once warm brown eyes, rich smile, and straight black hair were stolen by years of destruction and slaughter. Her hair was now wildly curled, filled with grime. Azkaban had Placed a taunting grin where her warm smile once lie. And her eyes reflected the worst change in Bellatrix Black. Those big, brown eyes that once held as many dreams as they could. Those heartening eyes that, once upon a time, made her little sister believe anything could happen. Those eyes that were once so identical to Andromedas'. Thick in those eyes lay a lust for murder.

Narcissa reached the limp body, and a cold shiver ran through her spine. Despite her role as a Death Eater, nothing startled her more than a corpse. Unwillingly, a delicate hand shifted the body over slightly, as the other softly crept down the front of Potter's robes. She placed her hand gently over his heart, not anticipating any signs of survival.

After a moment or two, Narcissa began to register that under her hand, there was a pounding heart beat underneath her hand. And a moment after that, his warm breath began to caress her face. Her blue eyes faintly widened, her breathing became heavier. "Harry Potter", she thought. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Always Lives. The boy who always finds a way to defy death.

Fear shot through Narcissa's body. Terror rushed through her veins, horror filled her lungs. If this boy, this simple, teenage boy, could dodge death, could escape the fatal, unblockable curse (twice, even!), what other powers could he possess? The Dark Lord would have to find a different way to kill Potter. Maybe he could try some of the ancient Black curses, Narcissa thought excitedly. Yes, the ancient, dark curses formed centuries ago by her ancestors. Brutally painful, tremendously lethal. There was no escaping death once one of those was performed. And, fortunately, the Black spell book had been left in her possession after the passing of Narcissas' father. If she suggested to the Dark Lord the way to finally dispose of this Potter, all would be forgiven. The Malfoys would be back in his inner circle after all this time.

Narcissa suddenly heard a small thud. She slightly turned her head to see what had fallen. Out of the boys robes had fallen a dusty, rusted over mirror. Narcissa gazed into the mirror, horrified at what gazed back. Her reflection did not show Narcissa's face as she knew it. Staring back at her was the sick, twisted face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Narcissa clutched the boys' chest harder. Handing over Potter would make the Dark Lord forgive her family. Handing over Potter would make the Dark Lord truly unbeatable, all-powerful. Handing over Potter would benefit the man who almost had her family executed. Handing over Potter would be selling her soul to the Devil, as her older sister had done many years ago.

Mind made up, Narcissa released the boy and straightened herself. In a clear, strong voice, she exclaimed, "The boy is dead!"