The corpse of a woman opened her eyes, and the dull sunken orbs gazed out at nothing.
"Mad," Bellatrix muttered in a cracked voice, "It seems that little Bella is going mad..."
Professor Quirrell had instructed Harry, calmly and precisely, how he was to act in Bellatrix's presence; how to form the pretense he would maintain in his mind.
You found it expedient, or perhaps just amusing, to make Bellatrix fall in love with you, to bind her to your service.
That love would have persisted through Azkaban, Professor Quirrell had said, because to Bellatrix it would not be a happy thought.
She loves you utterly, completely, with her whole being. You do not return her love, but consider her useful. She knows this.
She was the deadliest weapon you possessed, and you called her your dear Bella.
Harry remembered it from the night the Dark Lord killed his parents: the cold amusement, the contemptuous laughter, that high-pitched voice of deathly hate. It didn't seem at all difficult to guess what the Dark Lord would say.
"I hope you are not mad, Bella dear," said the chill whisper. "Mad is not useful."
Bellatrix's eyes flickered, tried to focus on empty air.
"My... Lord... I waited for you but you did not come... I looked for you but I could not find you... you are alive..." All her words came out in a low mutter, if there was emotion in it, Harry could not tell.
"Sshow her your face," hissed the snake at Harry's feet.
Harry cast back the hood of the Cloak of Invisibility.
The part of him that Harry had placed in control of his facial expressions looked at Bella without the slightest trace of pity, only cool, calm interest. (While in his core, Harry thought, I will save you, I will save you no matter what...)
"The scar..." muttered Bellatrix. "That child..."
"So they all still think," said Harry's voice, and gave a thin little chuckle. "You looked for me in the wrong place, Bella dear."
(Harry had asked why Professor Quirrell couldn't be the one to play the part of the Dark Lord, and Professor Quirrell had pointed out that there was no plausible reason for him to be possessed by the shade of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.)
Bellatrix's eyes remained fixed on Harry, she said no word.
"Ssay ssomething in Parsseltongue," hissed the snake.
Harry's face turned to the snake, to make it clear that he was addressing it, and hissed, "One two three four five ssix sseven eight nine ten."
There was a pause.
"Those who do not fear the darkness..." murmured Bellatrix.
The snake hissed, "Will be conssumed by it."
"Will be consumed by it," whispered the chill voice. Harry didn't particularly want to think about how Professor Quirrell had gotten that password. His brain, which thought about it anyway, suggested that it had probably involved a Death Eater, a quiet isolated place, and some lead-pipe Legilimency.
YOU ARE READING
Harry Potter And The Methods Of Rationality
FanfictionSince on I have only seen two different reposts of this story here on wattpad (neither of which are completed) I decided to take matters into my own hands and do it myself. Credit where credit is due: Less Wrong
