Bellatrix and her Master

The Tormented

"Hello, love."

A warm breath. A cold hand. Bellatrix's eyes flew open abruptly. With a painful groan, she tried to pull away from Igor Maggins' touch.

"Sleep well?" he whispered, with a cruel smile.

"Go to hell..." Bellatrix replied in a low voice.

She had screamed so much in recent days that her voice had disappeared, along with her dignity. She was naked. Her bruised and bloodied body was covered in cuts. Some of her bones were broken; others had been burned from the inside. She remained conscious for only a few minutes each day. Maggins revived her regularly, just until she passed out again. He kept her alive with a few basic healing spells – the kind every parent knew to fix everyday cuts and scrapes. None of Maggins' spells were strong enough to reduce her pain, but they were enough to prolong the torture.

"What would make you happy, doll? I've always lacked imagination when it comes to this. Lloyd usually handled interrogations... He's a good bloke, Lloyd. Jane thought he was a bit too loud... He came around a bit too often, and usually had a bit too much to drink. Didn't bother me though..."

Bellatrix felt her eyelids flutter. Maggins gave her a hard kick in her broken ribs. A long, silent scream escaped the Death Eater's lips.

"Are you listening, love? What I'm telling you is very important..."

Bellatrix had realised in the first few seconds of her kidnapping that Igor Maggins, the former Head Boy, the model Gryffindor, the gifted Auror, had gone mad. At first, he hadn't said much. He had simply tortured Bellatrix with the Cruciatus Curse for hours. She had passed out. He left her in a dark, dilapidated garage. Around her, gutted old cars spilled their insides: engines, grease, pipes... She was in the middle of a Muggle junkyard. Maggins' verbal diarrhoea began after three days. It seemed he'd grown tired of the Cruciatus Curse. He had started to ignore her and tinker with his cars, whistling children's rhymes. Bellatrix could have vomited. Sometimes she heard him laughing to himself or talking to an imaginary person he called Jane or Cassie – his wife and daughter, both murdered by Bellatrix.

At first, it had amused her. She thought she had experienced the worst Igor Maggins had to offer.

Unfortunately, she hadn't. Bellatrix's few sarcastic remarks about Jane and Cassie had enraged Maggins. He had spent the next day torturing her the Muggle way. Then came another phase of whistling and conversations with his dead family. This time, Bellatrix wisely refrained from making any comments. But now, she thought she should have. Anything would have been better than what she had endured these past two days. Anything. In a disturbing blend of hatred and grotesque emotional projection, Maggins had begun confusing Bellatrix with his wife, and then his daughter... He had tortured her in every way imaginable.

Bellatrix had lost her fight, her spirit, and her pride. Even the hope that the Dark Lord would find her had faded. Now, she only wished death would come for her as soon as possible. The Muggle hell surrounded her, Maggins touched her, and her entire body screamed.

XxXxXxX

BOOM!

It was night when the wall at the back of the garage exploded. Maggins immediately withdrew from Bellatrix. Advancing towards them were a dozen spheres of light. After a few moments, Bellatrix made out the wizards behind each glow, wands in hand. At the head of the procession stood Lord Voldemort. He glanced at his servant, then swiftly incapacitated Maggins, who collapsed paralysed to the ground. Confused, relieved, and utterly exhausted, Bellatrix could hardly believe what had just happened.

The Death Eaters spread out inside the garage. Lord Voldemort gestured to Rodolphus Lestrange, who hurried over to his wife. He gently draped his cloak over the young woman's naked body, avoiding her gaze, then turned to his master with a questioning look.