Rhapsody | Bellatrix Black

Chosen

Bellatrix was eleven years old when she first met The Dark Lord.

It was Christmas Day nineteen sixty two, and the Black family had been blessed with his unusual and unexpected arrival for Christmas dinner. Having seen him arrive with the other children, Bellatrix had listened at the door. But you couldn't keep anything from the Dark Lord. Sensing her there, he had called her inside, told her to shut the doors behind her, and she had done just that.

The room was silent, full of people who were watching her, and at the head of the table, he sat in her father's chair. He was pale, a man with a sharp, handsome face, but somehow it looked a little....blurred. He had dark eyes, but when they looked at her they gleamed red, and his long white fingers caressed a small snake that peeked from his sleeve. It wound around his hand, its small, arrow like head sliding between his fingers, little tongue flickering. He saw her looking, and smiled with thin lips.

"His name is Anguis," he said. "You may pet him if you like."

She was too afraid not to do as he asked. Slowly, she moved forward, her shoes squeaking on the hard floor. She had never been inside the dining room before. It was kept for the dinner parties her parents held, and Bellatrix and her sisters were forbidden to enter at all times. She reached The Dark Lord's chair, and with no hesitation, she reached out her hand and touched his hard little head. She could see the little patterns that ran along the snake's body in dark greens and blacks.

"And now," The Dark Lord said, "You must tell me why you were listening at the door, child."

Bellatrix straightened. Though she was nervous, she tried hard not to show it, though her eyes flickered to her father, in fear that he would punish her later. But Cygnus gave the smallest incline of his head.

"I....I was interested to know what you were talking about, my lord," she said, her voice shaking a little.

"Indeed? Are you interested in the cause?"

"Very," she said eagerly. "Father always taught me about it, and I've done a little bit at school – you sound like a great man, my lord."

"I am more than a man, Bellatrix. I am Lord Voldemort," he looked at her with those red tinged eyes, tilting his head a little, and she almost shivered. She felt like he was looking into her very soul. The name on his lips, unspoken by anybody out loud, was almost sacred. "And should you like to become a Death Eater, Bellatrix?"

The interest in their audience doubled. Everyone knew that The Dark Lord did not have female Death Eaters. Bellatrix's insides fizzed, imagining just what the girls at school would say, how envious they would be. She would be one of the Dark Lord's soldiers!

"I should like that very much, my lord," she said, and he laughed, put his hand on her shoulder. It was a strange, light weight. "An eager child," he said. "I see your mind and I see your words are true. You will be seated here tonight, as my guest. Raise your wands for her, for Bellatrix Black!"

Bellatrix's cheeks flushed pink with pleasure as they all raised their wands – Adults! Raising their wands to her! – and they glowed bright in the dining room. And most of all she could see her parent's faces at the top of the table, glowing with pride.

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After the Dark Lord and the other guests had left, Bellatrix and her parents sat at the dining table as the house elves began to clear the plates. Bellatrix was exhilarated, her blood still racing, her cheeks still warm.

"What on earth were you doing, listening at the door?" Druella said at last. "We have told you about private conversations."

She wasn't properly irritated, however, her eyes shining like stars.

"My daughter," she said proudly. "He picked you."

"Our daughter," Cygnus said, and he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. After the lightness of the Dark Lord, his hand felt heavy and awkward.

"Chosen by the Dark Lord. You don't know how lucky you are, Bellatrix."

"I do, Father," she said quietly. "Truly, I do."

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The coming days were a shock. Her mother brought her shopping, something she never usually did, and bought her new clothes, books, anything she wanted, though there was nothing for Andromeda and Narcissa. In the evenings, her father made rare appearances out of his study, consenting even to play gobstones with her. Her life felt suddenly surreal, as though after eleven years in darkness somebody had suddenly turned on a bright and blinding spotlight over her head.

Their parent's newfound affection extended mainly to Bellatrix, but sometimes to her sisters too.

Narcissa loved pretending to be a grown up lady in her mother's clothes though the high heels kept slipping off her feet and she had to shuffle around in them, gowns practically falling off her. Those days were like a dream, but Bellatrix didn't want to be fooled. She knew deep down that her parents were only acting like this because the Dark Lord had shown interest in her, though she ached for them to truly be proud of her. She wondered if he had only been humouring her by saying she could become a Death Eater, especially when she heard nothing else about it. She asked her father, who raised his eyebrows.

"Bellatrix, he meant when you turn seventeen."

"Oh," she said, slightly disappointed, and he laughed. He was by nature much inclined to be humorous, and she wasn't sure she had ever heard him laugh before. It was a short bark, cutting off abruptly.

"That's my girl," he said. "The earlier the better, eh?"

Bellatrix hesitated. "Father....does it hurt to get the Mark?"

"A little at first," he said carefully. "Not much, and it is worth bearing. Do you want to see it?"

Bellatrix nodded, and he pulled up his shirtsleeve to his forearm, where the Mark lay, black against the white of his skin. It was a deep, dark black, a twisting snake and skull.

"You call on Him by touching it," he said, rolling his sleeve down again. "It is something you must never do unless it is something truly important. The Dark Lord does not like his time wasted."

"But Father....why do we call him the Dark Lord? Why do we not call him Lord –"

Her father slapped her wrist, stopping her short.

"You must never call him that," he said, his dark eyes burning. "Never ever, Bellatrix. We do not have the authority."

"Doesn't Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore! An old fool who thinks he has more authority than he does," Cygnus' voice was bitter. "The Dark Lord will lay waste to him."

He sat back in his chair. "Leave me now, Bellatrix. I have work to do."

"Yes Father," she said, and rose from her seat, closing the door of the study behind her.