Location: Diagon Alley
Time: Afternoon
Status: Open
The bitter afternoon in Diagon Alley was a rare moment of peace for Bellatrix. She had a wool cloak clasped around her throat and a well-worn sketchbook and inks held in the crook of her arm, tightly pressed to her chest . Despite the cold, she had planned to find a seat outside and paint the alley and the people. It was a not as well known hobby that Bellatrix had grown accustomed to since childhood. She drew everything, in order to memorialize it. Since the Dark Lord's death, however, she had not opened herself up to paint at all. She had no muse left, no want to complete a portrait or a scenery. But today she had woken up with the feeling that she could break herself of this. She would start with something easy, the stone architecture of Diagon Alley.
Finally she found a table outside a small cafe, and settled herself into the seat. It didnât take long for her to begin to fall back into the rhythm of her painting, outlining the bricks and the rough silhouettes of people walking by. She had laid out a nice, colorful sketch when a shadow fell over her work. She grimaced, carefully putting the brush down, and hissed, âYouâre blocking my light.â
Sirius has always been interested in muggle things, at first as a way to piss off his parents but then took a genuine shine to it. The different contraptions they invented to get around magic were quite interesting. It was while walking around muggle London, looking at their way of travel that heâd stumbled upon the motorbike. Of course, apparition was the fastest way of travel, but when he looked at it, it just called to him, it looked like freedom. He had bought one straight away, first testing it out on muggle roads but something was missing. He wanted it to fly⊠The old wind in your hair feeling could of course be achieved by riding a broom, but he had never taken quite the shine to it that James had. He wanted something different. It had taken some time, some trial and error, things misfiring as he got to know some muggle mechanics but heâd finally managed it.Â
He had taken the bike for a ride that morning, getting lost in the clouds, morning turning to afternoon as he finally set it down in Diagon Alley, needing to hit the shops for a few things and maybe pick up something to eat. It was making a bit of a sound and he leaned down to check it out, giving it a tap with his wand and inspecting it afterwards. For the moment it seemed fine but he might have to give it a tune-up later. He looked up having caught a few eyes with the unusual flying machine and probably the sound and smiled. âNever seen a flying motorbike before?â
The shops were much busier than she had expected that afternoon, and she had pulled her hood up to hide her recognizable face and wild mess of hair, as she perused the shops. On a normal day, perhaps when she was less bitter and annoyed, she would have proudly shown her face for the reactions of the general public. Some were afraid of her, as her reputation preceded her, and some were a fun little challenge for her to twist around. But today she didnât feel like having a conversation with a stranger, or even with someone she knew. After purchasing the things on her list, she would quickly make it home or to the corners of the Leaky Cauldron to have a few drinks in privacy.
The motorbike caught her attention and, despite her wanting to avoid interactions, her curiosity got the better of her. Bellatrix pushed through the few people who had stopped to stare until she found the source of the noise. Her traitorous cousin, of course. Who else would be dim witted enough to flounce a flying motorbike in the middle of a busy shopping strip. Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix pulled down her hood and stepped up to Sirius with a deepening frown. How long had it been since they had spoken? Her heart lurched. She hated Sirius with every fiber of her being, but she also missed the family they all used to be. Before he ruined everything, of course.
âDo you think you look cool?â She asked, allowing her distaste to enter her voice. âYou wear a target on your back every day and then fly around with your idiotic muggle contraption like you want all the attention in the world. Stupidity is too small a word for you.â
Remus ordered a chicken sandwich and planned to take leftovers home since his break was a little on the shorter end that day. He wouldn't voice a complaint having only been at it for a few weeks. Still, there was something a little annoying about being asked to cover for someone a few hours before his shift started and being met with a minimal break in between the two before being made to work his usual position.
"That is the last time I'm volunteering to work earlier than my usual shift," Remus grumbled and sat upright on the barstool he claimed, running both hands through his hair. Of all the things he had expected to dislike about his newest job, being asked to cover in the children's room hadn't been it. Three hours of adults occasionally gawking at him and asking for drawn-out discussions about book suggestions for their two-year-old to keep him talking had proven to be more exhausting than restocking shelves and answering questions in the adult section of the library. "That, or no more sports tees to work."
As of late, Bellatrix had found herself inhabiting the Leaky Cauldronâs darker corners to drink in privacy. No prying eyes, no whispers from the people who heard of her reputation - the patrons of this particular pub were quite fond of their own privacy. It was the afternoon, so there werenât too many people there, and she sat back in her chair and sipped at her first drink of the day. Sure, it was not the proper drinking time for a lady of her standing, but Bellatrix didnât care much for what she should have been doing. The rumors were already out there, and she knew the truth behind them, drinking alone was not going to affect her as much as it would some others.
She was lost in thought when Remus entered and only noticed when he began grumbling to himself. It took a few minutes for her to place him but her temper flared as soon as she did. Siriusâ friend, one of the group of impossible boys who thought themselves better than everyone else. Such good people they thought themselves to be. If she had been drunk, she would have spit. Instead she stood, grabbed the handle of her pint, and sauntered over to the younger man.Â
âWhat could possibly be troubling you?â She asked, faking sincerity, a slight cock of her head. âItâs so sad when things donât go your way, isnât it, rabbit?â She placed the beer on the bartop and leaned against the stool next to Remus. âSo, so sad.â With a click of her tongue, she placed her hand over her heart and furrowed her eyebrows. She did quite enjoy playing the actress, even if the man would probably not believe her performance.
People were apprehensive. Yes, the war was over, but she could see the way people in Diagon Alley eyed one another warily...the way people eyed her warily. Narcissa wished she could tell them, let them know that she wasn't like her family. Though it wasn't as if anyone would truly listen.
What she really wanted was to be able to block out all the voices that floated around on a regular basis. She could, if she was in control of her emotions well enough. Ever since she got pregnant with Lyra, though, her emotions had been unpredictable, even so that she would often end up with a jumble of passing thoughts in her mind that she really didn't want any access to.
Taking in a deep breath, she looked down at Lyra in the pram. "How about some ice cream, my little love?" she whispered to her, taking a quick turn to Florean Fortescue's. At least she could try and focus on something else for now, rather than allowing her thoughts to entertain what others thought of her after the war.
Once she had a small cup of vanilla ice cream, she sat down at a table inside with Lyra, offering her a spoonful of the creamy dessert first. She couldn't help but giggle softly at his content expression at the small spoonful of the treat. "Yes, I know you like ice cream," she said with a fond smile. Her first attempt had been humorous: the cold had surprised her, and her face had clearly reflected that. But she had grown to like it quickly.
Feeling eyes on her, Narcissa looked up, her eyebrows raising. "Well, I can't say you were someone I expected to see today," she said, her attention turning back to her daughter.
Without the Dark Lord to guide her, Bellatrix found herself either pacing meaninglessly around her home, or out at shops to avoid her husband. It was not that she didnât get along with Rodolphus, it was that she could never fulfill her duties as a wife. Perhaps he didnât care, she didnât much care to ask, but it made her feel like she was failing as the eldest daughter in the Black family. It had been her duty to marry and carry on a lineage - but she was unable to bear children. She feigned disappointment, but she had never wanted a child and the news came as a relief. She was not able to feel those maternal feelings, she wasnât sure she would be able to love a baby at all had she been cursed to birth one.Â
Bellatrix hadnât thought she would see anyone she knew, but when she saw her sister enter the ice cream shop, she was compelled to follow. She paused across the street, watching from a distance through the window as Cissa ordered ice cream and sat at a table with her daughter. The child born out of wedlock, her niece, was a creature of smiles and giggles. Bellatrix didnât quite care for Lyra, but she would never dare say that to Cissy. She was desperate to be as close as possible to her sister, considering she was the only one left.
Finally Bellatrix entered the shop and stepped up to their table, smiling slightly at her sister as she was acknowledged. âI saw you across the street, Cissy. I wouldnât have come here but for that.â She sat at an empty seat across from her sister and placed her hands in her lap. âWe havenât spoken for a bit, dear sister. Tell me how youâve been?â And this, this was as sincere of a question as could be. Bellatrix loved Narcissa with all of her heart, despite what rumors were out there about her not having a heart to begin with.
It was an quiet night for the bar. It wasn't that unusual for a night in January. So it didn't worry Alecto. She supposed if her bar was constantly quiet it would be a worry. But she had no concerns that that would ever happen. She'd taken the little run down bar and make it into a successful business. She might have left school with barely any qualifications, but Alecto was a good business woman. And she'd made the bar successful. And if she was honest, a break from some of the more rowdy nights, was a good thing.
She'd sent one of the bartenders home, and was sat behind the bar herself. She was mostly going through new cocktail ideas, whilst being on hand to serve if needed. She looked up as someone approached the bar, and she smirked a little. "Didn't expect to see you here tonight"
This evening was filled with melancholy and boredom and, no matter how hard she tried to amuse herself, Bellatrix found that nothing at home would suffice. Rodolphus was somewhere in their home and the thought of hearing his sounds or entertaining him made her skin crawl. Occasionally she quite enjoyed her husbandâs company, but more often than not she found herself feeling claustrophobic and itching to escape. At the end of the day, she didnât quite care for companionship in the way most did and she certainly did not respect the bounds of their arranged marriage.
She found herself at the Delirium Bar not long after feeling like she needed to escape. Wrapped in a thick wool cloak, the hood covering her wild hair, she stepped up to the bar with a bit of a smile. Alecto Carrow greeted her, one of the few people she actually enjoyed spending time with. It was rare for her to find people she could speak with for hours without being annoyed, and Alecto was one of those people. It certainly helped that Bellatrix had taken the younger girl under her wing. Hard to be annoyed with someone who reminds you so much of yourself. âAh, I didnât think Iâd find myself here either,â Bellatrix responded, pulling her hood off and unclasping her cloak to swing it over a nearby stool. âAlecto, how have you been? Howâs business?â
Dahlia was looking for new herbs for her potions, just perusing to see what Dogweed and Deathcap had to offer that they didnât have at the apothecary. She loved playing with new things and experimenting. It was one of those things that people never knew what could work together. Dahlia wanted to be the person who created something new â particularly something to cure her illness. How she had made it to twenty-one she had no idea but she was feeling more and more weak. She was scared but would never admit it. She even tried hiding it from herself.
So far she wasnât having the best of luck finding any herbs so moved on to the many full grown plants. They were interesting, especially the active ones. She almost wanted to get them for her flat out of her amusement. Though maybe they would be helpful.
She heard someone come into the store and she rolled her eyes. Sheâd enjoyed the quiet of no one bothering her. Not even a worker had come out to see her. It was perfection. But not now. She was approached and said a simple, âYes?â
The afternoon breeze carried a brisk chill that had Bellatrix pulling her cloak closer to her body as she walked the cobblestone streets. There was a parchment scroll curled between her fingers, the smudged ink depicting the items she needed to purchase before returning home. On a usual day, where she felt melancholy and boredom, she would have commanded the house elves to make these purchases. But today she had felt a rise in her emotions, an almost giddiness that overcame her, and she decided to shop for herself. The walk among the streets, among the people she often despised or taunted, would quell the antsy feelings brewing in her chest.
The first two shops were useless - they didnât have any of the items she had requested - and she was beginning to become infuriated. It didnât take much these days, not without the Dark Lord there to give her meaning. She didnât want to admit it but, without a clear mission, she was bored. She was trying to bring the cause back but without their leader, her words were meaningless. Bellatrix had never commanded an audience quite like the Dark Lord had. She just struck fear, usually, or anger in others. No one wanted to follow her unless she threatened them first. And a scared army was not nearly as loyal or effective as one who believed in their leader first.
She was not going to walk into Dogweed and Deathcap, too convinced they would also not have the items she required, but she spotted Dahlia through the window when she peeked in. Perhaps this was what she needed to get that giddiness back, a chat with the younger girl. It was rare, but she quite liked Dahlia. âAh, here I thought youâd be happy to see me.â She replied to the simple conversation starter Dahlia had given. It was clear she didnât know who entered the shop, or she was in a mood and didnât fancy a conversation. Either way, Bellatrix was there to stay for the time being. âHow are you, darling Dahlia?â
Character name: Bellatrix Lestrange
Age & Birthday: 29 & May 10
Gender & Pronouns: Cis-female & she/her
Occupation: Socialite
Blood status: Pureblood
Previous house: Slytherin
Previous Affiliation:Â Death Eater
Face claim: Janet Montgomery
Traits:
+ intelligent, resilient, ambitious, protective
- abrasive, impulsive, temperamental, volatile
TAKEN BY BIRDIE
CHARACTER SUMMARY:
Bellatrix Black was born on May 10th, 1952 during a thunderstorm that raged for two straight days. She was swaddled in fine cloth and held close to her mothers breast, but the baby screeched as though she was not ready to be born. Or, perhaps, as though she was ready to be grown. For hours she screamed and cried and fussed, until Druella and Cygnus handed her to a handservant to be cared for. Her father boasted that a good set of lungs meant a strong child, that though she wasnât the son they had wanted, she would grow to be calloused and tough. Druella may not have believed that, but she never did dote on Bellatrix as if she were a daughter.Â
The bond Cygnus and Bellatrix had was unbreakable from the moment she entered the world. While she was taught the elegance of being a sophisticated woman, her father also taught her the valuable lessons of a cruel world. He taught her who to hate, how to fight, how to pretend to be something they werenât to move up in life. While they had money and power, Cygnus understood that there was a fragile ecosystem in pureblood society. Bellatrix would eventually need to marry someone else of power, and she may not love the man she was designated to bond with. As she grew, he realized she may never love anyone. Their lessons became more and more necessary the older she got, when her disposition for hatred and violence was more prevalent.Â
During her time at Hogwarts, Bellatrix was well liked and excelled in her classes. She knew how to fake niceties so that no one could see through the facade. Her fellow Slytherins enjoyed her company, and the other houses feared her enough to avoid her but not enough to bring it up to a professor or headmaster. In her fourth year she began taking out her frustrations on classmates who excelled more or excluded more confidence. It began with talking over them and apologizing sweetly, or tripping them in the hall and then offering to pick up their things. Most people knew it was on purpose, but from the outside looking in, it was a mere accident.Â
It was during her sixth year that she became more cruel. It no longer mattered who did better than her, if someone looked at her the wrong way she would torment them. Placing small hexes, following them and taunting them through the halls - always with a group of classmates so she could easily blame someone else if they were caught. No one dared speak out against her, not even the fellow Slytherins being blamed for her actions. Bellatrix had a nasty reputation by the time she left Hogwarts, but she also had a few close friends. Other purebloods who she respected, who stood up to her or proved themselves to her, a small group of people she enjoyed being around.Â
After leaving Hogwarts, Bellatrix was designated to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. She didnât particularly care for him but she had been well prepped during childhood to understand that she had no say in this. They married two years after their engagement was announced and were expected to have children to expand their bloodlines. Bellatrix was not maternal and it came as quite a relief when she found out she could not have children.Â
Bellatrix became enamored with the Dark Lord shortly after learning she did not fit into society's plans for her. Voldemort was everything she wanted to be. Cruel, intense, and fiercely loyal to his cause. She pledged her life to him and in return she was given the opportunity to explore that dark side that had begun to manifest during her school years. She was the most alive that she had ever felt in the years she followed the Dark Lord. Her reputation became rumors of the cruel deeds she performed in the name of Voldemort, but she was good at hiding. No one would be able to prove them true. Not yet, anyway.
When Voldemort was defeated, she cracked. His cause was the only thing that made her feel free, and there was so much left to do. She had been his right hand servant, his most loyal follower, and now she was alone. It was just pureblood society again, living a life she despised, with no clear direction. For this reason, she refused to give up the mission. Even without Voldemort, she would make the world pure again. It was the only thing she lived for.Â
