diagon alley is home to many , a direct connection to the wizarding world , right in the centre of london , many people like bellatrix black , spend majority of her time in the busy alley , people know her as the thirty-three year old who is a past slytherin graduate , now working as a unspeakable, i think the role suits them perfectly as i think they are ambitious but also they can be intolerant, but that's just my opinion . (faceclaim; Crystal reed, penned by ; laurie/24/gmt )
&. BASICS
full name: bellatrix walburga black. nicknames: bella. age: 34. sexuality: she has never really labelled her sexuality, but she’s drawn to power. birthday: august 5th. place of birth: 12 grimmauld place, islington, london. gender & species: cis female, human, witch. current location: london, england
&. MORE BASIC INFO
languages: english, french and russian,. religion: non-religious, except for perhaps blood supremacy. education: hogwarts (slytherin) - OWLs, with 6 Os and 3 Es, and NEWTs, with 4 Os and an E. occupation: unspeakable within the death chamber. drinks, smokes, & drugs: frequently, regularly, occasionally
&. PERSONALITY
zodiac sign: leo. MBTI: ESTJ-A, the executive. fears: the fall of blood purity. four positive traits: intelligent, ambitious, loyal, determined. four negative traits: intolerant, unforgiving, manipulative, arrogant
Tw: Bigotry, Violence and Implied: Murder and Torture
chapter one. childhood:
An heir. That was all that Cygnus Black III wanted. Everything he had done in his life was for The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and, with his older brother Alphard not even betrothed and sister Walburga married to their second cousin but without her own son, when Druella fell pregnant for the first time it was his duty to ensure that they raised the perfect pureblood boy to secure the family legacy. Imagine his disappointment when Bellatrix Walburga Black was born. Eventually, the new father resigned himself to the truth. He assured everybody that his daughter would be raised just as well as any son would be and that his heir would come with the next. It was years before another Black was added to the infamous family tree. Whispers circulated around high society circles, talk that perhaps this was finally the fall of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Now if Cygnus could help it. No longer were they waiting for the heir apparent, he would simply mould one from his oldest daughter.
By the time the younger two Black sisters were born, Bellatrix was already being transformed from future potential pureblood wife to successor to everything The Blacks held dear. Her childhood was filled with occlumency and legilimency lessons, and she much preferred them to the horror stories of etiquette lessons to become the perfect lady that other daughters of the Sacred Twenty-Eight told. She was permitted access to her father’s office, where they would spend hours at a time talking about the purity of their blood, toujours pur, and the threats that faced their very way of life. On many warm Sunday afternoons she chose to visit her Aunt Walburga, preferring to run her hands along the family tapestry rather than play in the sunshine with her sisters and cousins.
chapter two. hogwarts:
By the time she was at Hogwarts, proudly sorted into Slytherin just like every Black before her, she was everything that family expected her to be. Everything they could have wanted. The perfect son her father had never had.
Bellatrix had never been made to be subtle, even as a mere eleven year old she had been outspoken. After all, she had all the confidence of a girl who had been promised the world because of the blood that ran through her veins. She sneered at blood traitors and did worse to muggleborns, landing herself many a detention and building herself a reputation that made her as feared as any of the Slytherin boys she’d associated herself with. She was a favourite of her Head of House, a powerful witch Horace Slughorn couldn’t ignore her potential, but was ultimately rejected as prefect for her behaviour. Truly the young girl hadn’t been bothered. After all, why would she need a shiny badge and the power to grant detentions when she had hexes and curses to throw in the direction of people she felt were undeserving of their Hogwarts’ space?
chapter three. the war:
The summer after her final year at Hogwarts changed Bellatrix’s life. Now an adult, her mother made clear what was expected of her. She may not have been the lady that Druella had once pictured, but that didn’t stop her mother from parading eligible suitor after eligible suitor under her nose. Bella found the whole thing rather boring. Despite the birth of her younger cousins, effectively dethroning her from her once prized position as heir to their fortunes, she still very much considered herself the true heir - after all, she had done the work while they had merely been born boys over a decade later - and didn’t see why she should have to prove herself worthy of any man. Especially when it seems so clear to her she was leagues above anybody her mother suggested. Those long summer days were filled with arguments with her mother, familiar talks with her father, hiding from her annoying cousins and half-reluctantly spending time with her sisters. A routine began to settle. And then she met him. Tom Riddle.
It didn’t take long from that first meeting, where they spoke of the same things she had with her father years before with the teenager hanging onto every word while Riddle offered up his solutions, for her to become enthralled with the man. They would eradicate the unworthy, be able to break free from their secrecy and take what was rightfully theirs. Wizards would live in the light, heads held high and proud rather than forced into hiding out of fear. He had made it all sound so simple. She didn’t hesitate in joining his army, after all the victory would be so much sweeter when she’d been the one to help win the war.
She is a delighted participant in the war. She considers herself an activist, she is fighting for everything she’s been taught to stand for and is upholding values generations of her family have lived by, if the means she uses should be violent then it so be it. She’s never had a problem with squeamishness before. At her core there is anger, fuelled by a fear that the world she loves will give way to the muggle loving blood traitors and the filthy blood that dared to think they could infiltrate their sacred blood. By the time Sirius joins the blood traitors, officially removed from the tapsry she spent hours of childhood admiring, she is not surprised. Now he’s just another enemy with a target on his back as she rises through Riddle’s ranks and becomes one of The Dark Lord’s most trusted soldiers. One of the deadliest too. For those unlucky enough to run into Bellatrix Black on the battlefield it has become apparent that they are unlikely to survive.
She is exactly who she was raised to be. A proud member of the House of Black, a soldier for all she finds righteous, and with a Lestrange heirloom ring sitting on her left hand she even has the perfect pureblood fiancé. What Bellatrix wants she always gets. And now, she wants to win the war.
» tagged: pandora + open
» where: outside Madam Malkin’s , the plot drop 001
♕ — It was a miracle how she managed it, but Pandora had made her way to Diagon Alley to see what had happened. She stood in front of Madam Malkin’s shop to see it utterly destroyed. She had spent so many summers shopping for her school robes and quite recently, the dresses she needed for the upcoming events that were going to arrive that fall and winter. She knew the rumors that were spreading around the community but the reality of it all was sinking in. She didn’t know how to process what she was seeing or what she was feeling. She knew that her parents ultimately agreed with those who allegedly did all this destruction but she knew deep down, she didn’t agree with this.
♕ — Pandora knelt down and carefully picked up a tattered piece of fabric frowning to herself. She carefully took a step forward and took in a shaky breath. “This is horrible,” she murmured.
.
Madam Malkin’s. It was never a place that Bellatrix had particularly liked. From a young age she’d had rather expensive tastes, had grown used to the robes that her father would gift her from France and scoffed at the tat she’d often seen in the shop’s windows. There had been no eager anticipation as she’d went from her first set of school robes, no excited whispers or wondering out loud what her house would be. She knew it would be Slytherin, the same way she had always known she would be attending Hogwarts. A lifetime of expectation had caused the school’s glimmer to somewhat fade in her mind. Especially with a mad old bat running things around the castle. In more recent years she had been dragged their for custom made gowns, meaning boring fitting which lasted longer than she could stand still and filled with her mother’s begging that she at least try to pretend she was a lady at whatever dull event she was being dragged to. So no, she wasn’t practically upset to see the store in ruins. No more than she had been to see the body in the street.
“Yes tragic,” She agreed, although her tone was obviously indifferent. Her lips pursed before adding, “My elf is woeful at altering, can barely stitch a hem. Who knows what I’ll do now.”
“Cissy!” Bellatrix called through the apartment, freely making her way through until she found her youngest sister. Well hoped that she would anyway, after all she hadn’t technically been invited over to the apartment. However, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t entirely comfortable waltzing around Narcissa’s home as though it was her own. Some might call it barging in, breaking and entering at a push, but she simply thought it was her right as big sister. “I have the afternoon off and thought we could go for a sister lunch! Well, me and you at least.” She hadn’t extended the invitation to Andromeda. “My treat!”
status : open.
location : outside of florean fortescue’s ice cream parlour.
Andromeda could not remove her dismayed gaze from the remains of the beloved ice cream parlour. Between arguments with her parents, spontaneous dates, and just needing the comfort during stressful times, Andromeda greatly enjoyed Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, and was quite upset that it laid destroyed on the ground. If she stood here for too long, she figured that she would start crying out of pure frustration, so she turned towards the person next to her with a forced smile. “Would you like to brighten the mood and get a Butterbeer or something else from The Leaky Cauldron?” Anything to get her mind off of both Florean Fortescue’s and Madam Malkin’s - all this destroying is only to force people into a state of fear.
.
Sometimes it was as though Bellatrix and Andromeda had lived entirely different lives. The own gaze at the ice cream shop was not one filled with sadness or dismay, but rather a smug pride at the continued reminder of their work and it’s success. While her sister held back tears, the older Black was trying to contain her smile. The invitation to The Leaky Caldron served as quite the welcome distraction, a place she could be as jovial as she was capable of and not raise too many questions. “Butterbeer Andy? What are we fourteen?” She asked teasingly, her hand looping around so that it rested on the inside of the other brunette’s elbow, gently pulling her along the way as she set off towards their destination as if it had been her idea. “I think I need at least an Ogden’s after the having to set through wedding preparations all afternoon. Do you know how long mother can talk about flowers? Much longer than I thought anybody was possible of.”
As much as Augustine loved her family, she would often imagine her life if she was just a Halfblood or even a Muggleborn. It would be more of a difficult life, she was sure of it, but the Pureblood lifestyle was undesirable. The grass was always greener on the other side. She didn’t particularly respect the Purebloods that thought that they were on this pedestal, but Augustine often unbeknownst to her, put herself there. It was hard to admit, but she thought of herself as better than most people. Perfect Augustine Burke, blonde hair and the most dreamy set of gray eyes - she could do no wrong. She walked down the corridors of Hogwarts like she was a princess, she graced people in her life like she was some sort of queen. Unfortunately, deep down, there was always something inside of her that never felt particularly right. She leaned straight back into her chair as she gazed at the older witch, knowing her all too well. Their families were distantly related, and Augustine was particularly close to Narcissa especially. “Understood, Bellatrix.” She stood up from the chair, walking towards the parcels that laid out and grabbed the one that was labeled for Druella. “How are you doing today?”
The grass was in fact not greener according Bella. Never had she wished to be anybody but Bellatrix Walburga Black, proud member of The Noble and Most Ancient house of her family. She had spent hours that turned to days and then to years pouring over their history and the same rhetoric generations of her family had been taught. Their magic was special, it all boiled down to how pure their blood was. Why would she want to be anybody else when she could be part of something so much bigger than her? Before Augustine had graced the halls of Hogwarts there had been a terrifying presence of Bellatrix Black, her confident strut may have invoked a different reaction but it was effective. And it was presence she had managed to keep well into her adult life. She was pleased that at least Narcissa’s friend was efficient, but selfishly she still would have preferred that her mother had sent her younger sister on menial tasks. “Well I am spending a Saturday running around like my mother’s house elf so I have certainly been better,” She answered, her eyes scanning over the package as she tried to work out just what her mother was blowing money on this week, “And you?” She was sure the girl’s ideal weekend wasn’t wasting away in this store.
There were not enough fingers in the Ministry alone to count the times Marlene had wandered off, and nearly not enough to round up the times that lead to cross words with Bellatrix Black. It was the unfortunate effect of having wandered these halls since she could just about walk. There was a time when Marlene would see the dark haired woman and a smirk would cross her face. She knew well enough of the Black family and knew just as well that she could poke and prod around Bellatrix in the ministry halls, challenging just enough to get a reaction of someone oh-so pristine. Marlene could not pinpoint when exactly it was that she’d stopped her process as it was. Maybe other targets had come along, but something in her jaw would tighten just after some interaction. Surely, Marlene may snuff out comments, or swipe an elevator from the woman just as she was about to get in - but maybe that was a choice of avoidance.
Nonsense, Marlene Arlais McKinnon never ran.
And yet…
She’d found that she’d much rather be in any other office at the moment.
Odd, how she could not recall why her feet brought her to this level, unfamiliar for the most part with dimly lit corridors. Few name plates or office names sat above the doors, and the footsteps that rang throughout the upper halls were no more than distant echos, resonating in short bursts.
“But darling, I’m just the grandest mystery that you’d like ever meet.” There was a fluency to the word, familiar on her tongue in a way that settled her stomach despite the push of her upper diaphragm. “So seems this is just as much my department.”
Just around that corner…
It was like another little burst of light - probably just some spellwork, but instead it was followed by a chill which drew her gaze from Bellatrix for the moment. She’d felt it before - upstairs, in training, and some time distantly before. You don’t forget that feeling.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve grown tired of my company. Seems we have quite a few fond memories between us, don’t you remember?” Her grin, forced and not full of usual granduer, was followed by her first look back to the severe face. “Not going to offer me a tea, then? Quite rude of you darling, I was told that the Blacks were top-crop hosts, but you look like you have doxies up the arse today.”
If wondering what Bellatrix had been like as a child the answer would depend which parent you asked. To her father she had been perfect, the obedient son he had always wanted and trained her to be, and to her mother she had been unruly and unladylike everything she had dreaded in her oldest daughter. However, it could not be said that she had been a wanderer. In the times that she had accompanied Cygnus to important meetings at the ministry she had been far more fascinated by what was happening inside the office than curious about what might be occurring outside of it. So when she had first come across a young Marlene McKinnon she had been disgusted, this was clearly a child in every sense of the word. And children did not belong in such a place, where they might stumble upon things that they shouldn’t.
And of course that’s exactly what the other witch had done...many years later of course. But still, Bella’s point stood.
“I assure you I am not your darling,” She was quick to spit back, glare still firmly fixed on the auror, as though it would retroactively scare her away. That plan was proving unsuccessful so far. “And you are anything but a mystery,” She added, a small humourless chuckle following her words, “You are as predictable and pedestrian as they come I’m afraid. Reckless, disrespectful, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I would be more cautious McKinnon, those things get people in trouble you know.”
They had before. If Marlene thought that she had seen Bellatrix less since their last run in she wasn’t imagining things, it was a deliberate move on the older witch’s part. She hadn’t wanted to stir up any memories that might not be completely concealed by the charms, hadn’t wanted to risk anything. And besides, it wasn’t as though she had left the then-student completely unattended. Her little birdie had proven quite helpful from time to time. It seemed as though it were all going to plan...until that very moment. Until she saw a small flash in the auror’s eyes. Recognition - no matter how slight. It was enough to make her falter for a moment.
Memories? Had she done that on purpose? Surely not. It couldn’t take one encounter could it? All be it a powerful one, in the same corridors as though time had not moved on at all. It couldn’t be. She had been cautious by staying away yes, but she hadn’t truly believed that it would only take one meeting, a few exchanging of words, to bring it all back.
She pursed her lips, taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts and collect herself. She couldn’t let her worries be seen. “Fond? Is that what you think of them?” By her tone it was clear Bella didn’t share the same opinion. “And who did you hear that from? My beloved cousin, was he able to tell you of the marvellous hosts we make. I’m afraid we only extend such comforts to those who are worthy.” And the McKinnons most certainly did not make that list.
He never considered laying a finger on her, but Amycus blinked at her fingers curled around his arm, something about the touch grounding him back into the moment – truthfully, the man was pretty easily distracted, generally speaking, and if anyone knew how to distract him efficiently, it was Bella. “Subtlety?” he repeated, but the gruffness in his voice had been replaced with humour and confusion. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.” He gave the woman a smile, rising and stepping over and away from his victim as he knew she wished him to, and to his credit, when he shook her hand off of him a beat later, he did so gently. He also did so so he could go ahead and clean himself up, but that was beside the point. “I might have gotten here a little early,” he explained, “and this gent might have been regaling me with some wild stories about some ladies we know to keep me entertained while I waited. Something had to be done, and subtle wasn’t doing the trick.”
Bellatrix was certain that interrupting the tussle wouldn't hurt her, not that she wasn’t perfectly capable of matching the men so long as she had her wand by her side but in all the years of their friendship Amycus had never laid a hand on her. Maybe out of love or respect, maybe both. “Oh don’t I know it,” She retorted with a roll of her eyes, but seeming more amused than annoyed at the antics now that they’d come to an end. She really had been looking forward to that drink she’d been invited out for. Her hand happily dropping back to her side, a smirk began to grow. “I just wish you could fight like those of us who have learnt to be civilised, weren’t you ever taught that good pureblood boys use their wands to duel and not their hands.” The way she much preferred it if she was honest, since she was confident and had proven more than a handful of times that she was more than capable of keeping up - and wiping the floor - with her opponents when it came to magic. She was a perfect example that you could still play dirty. However, she couldn’t deny she was curious, a slight lift in her eyebrow as she asked, “But these ladies...anybody I would be acquainted with?”
Everything about the other woman left Sybill feeling more than on-edge. Naturally, she’d been dealing with a feeling of menacing, of foreboding, of dread all day, but the energies she sensed emanating from the other witch only amplified every emotion already coursing through her veins. Taking in the smallest of smirks and the undertone in the others’ voice, Sybill could feel her own blood beginning to boil. Historically, she had never been known to be one with an overarching ability to control her emotions, but the exhaustion, the excess energy, and the sheer bitchiness the other gave only served to press her further. Shaking her head she leaned forward, looking the other square in the eye as she narrowed her eyelids and set her jaw. “What a privileged position it must be, possessing such a delusional sense of self-importance while also honing the ability to be such a frigid bitch. It must be exhausting for you, looking like such a prune all the time. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that if you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that? They should have. From the looks of things, you are already well on your way to being a frontrunner in next year’s Homeliest Witch competition.”
.
Bellatrix had struggled with a problem her whole life. She never knew when to stop. Getting what she wanted had never been enough for her, she always had to push and push until something broke. And usually that something was someone. And when she pinpointed the moment it happened? Well that was where her satisfaction came from. It was clear to her that Sybil had in fact been dragged over the edge of emotional control, and while perhaps she would have preferred slightly more of a challenge it didn’t mean she hesitated in continuing on. She seemed amused as the other woman got closer, a chuckle raising in her throat as eyes narrowed and jaws tightened. She didn’t see anybody as a threat, hubris she had been told more than once, but she most certainly didn’t think some lowly little girl was any match for her. “Oh I don’t think you should be worrying about my looks, The Blacks do age well.” It was one thing her mother could at least be proud of, beautiful daughters. If Bella had never learnt to speak perhaps her and her mother would have even gotten along well. “Maybe your time would be better spent worrying about yourself. I mean, if you’re not going to do your job you might as well fill your time another way.”
Her dedication to their shared cause was something that Rodolphus actually found attractive about Bella - one of the many, given that considering the fact that their marriage was arranged, actual attraction in the romantic sense was never a guarantee, but he knew that he had found in Bellatrix a partner who understood him and shared his belief system. They were partners both in battle and at home, and thus far it had proved to be a system that worked well for them both. “Well they were fools then as they still are now. Only difference is they’re scared shitless now and there’s nothing they can do about it but pray that they aren’t next. It’s how they should be, it’s the respect of it all at the very least.” he said, not minding that she’d taken a sip from his coffee, amused when she had demanded her own cup. “Bella we are so far from any finality in all of this. This attack was a drop in the bucket, and I’m sure the dark lord has much more planned. What we must do is wait for further instructions, and be ready for those instructions when they are sent.” Rodolphus believed in what the dark lord promised - a world where they didn’t have to deal with people in classes that never should have mingled to begin with, and as much as he was looking forward to living in that world he also knew that the struggle to get to that point had only begun. “Tell me more about what horrible things you’ve already plotted though, as I’m sure you’ve figured out several plans and are just waiting to unleash them into reality. As your soon-to-be husband, color me intrigued.”
.
It couldn’t be denied, Rodolphus had always been Bellatrix’s preferred match. She had long shut down the rumours of any crushes that she might have had during the years they’d spent at Hogwarts, whether she had or had not developed an admiration for one of the only boys who had treated her as an equal from the beginning of their friendship was nobody’s business but her own, but when it had came time for her to find a betrothal she had been very clear of who her first and only choice was. When her mother had been unconvinced she threw a temper tantrum that last all of her twenties and began to plant her own ideas into Rodolphus’ head. Was it a tad manipulative? Perhaps, but she liked to think that she had just done what was best for both of them. She dared anybody to find him someone as well matched as they were. “They have nobody to blame but themselves.” They had forced the group’s hand when they didn’t take them seriously. It wasn’t as though she was uncomfortable with the idea of blood on her own hands but she was sure the blood traitors and the mudblood sympathisers should feel the guilt of it. “It was time that we gave them a proper warning.” Because he was right, this was far from over. What had happened to Diagon Alley, she was sure it should only be considered a message of caution. This was only the beginning. Her grin grew impossibly, a tongue reaching out to lick her lips before she gladly endulged him in her ideas. “Well it will have to be bigger. I understand that one was enough this time, it had enough impact but if we want to keep the fear we have to target them as a group. And not just the mudbloods, we need blood traitors to know we won’t just let them come crawling back.” Her eyes were shimmering as she reached for the coffee cup she’d just been presented with, clearly thrilled by her own thoughts as she added, “I wouldn’t be opposed to pruning my own family tree you know.” It wasn’t exactly a secret that she was willing to place a rather big target on her cousin’s back.
Keeping up with the Daily Prophet was very much like remembering to do a Potions essay. Knowing the news was not something she could wing, however, like an exam. In the shared office space, feeling much like the pariah she’d made herself into at home, Marlene shoved into a corner with the paper. Nothing had changed in the last day, the headlines were repeating as even inside the ministry, little seemed to be going into making efforts. She wanted desperately for the order to contact her, tell her something. Anything was better than this.
Her eyes scanned, not really reading since this was all the same and clenching her jaw was causing pain. But every so often, her eyes past a phrase, ‘dark wizards’ ‘new alliances’ ‘potential corruption’ And maybe, it was from spending the last few days, hidden away somewhere uncharted on a training exercise, but her eyes squinted at the words. Squinted until they blurred, and something like blue light flashed across. It was someone’s wandwork, noted as she looked up.
Blue light, broken glass, frayed rope, and a headache.
Dark room, silent steps, shelves, and hushed voices.
All in no particular order, just tidbits across her already tired mind. Suddenly, Marlene could stay in the room with her co-workers no longer. Screw meetings and regulations anyway, it was getting her no where right now. And what Marlene needed most of all was to just go…
..into the hall along, a busy ministry floor. Her sister’s office maybe? She rarely turned that corner, but her spine was chilled and her fists dug into her balms, and a particular heat could be felt on her inner sleeve where her wand rested.
The corner was sharp and fast and so were the bones she brushed against “Sorry, so-” She cut off, landing between shock and a grin. “How unspeakable of you to not apologize.” So a little grin did land upon Marlene’s wide lips. But there was something else, metallic hidden in her tongue that she tasted when meeting Bellatrix’s eyes. @blackofheart
Bella’s heels clicked against the marble floors of the ministry’s lobby, not bothering to make way for the other participants in the morning rush but instead knowing that they would step out of her way. Her eyes flicked to the copies of The Daily Prophet on the news stands, watching as the headlines flipped between each other and waiting with bated breath to see the same images that had been splattered across the front page the day before. She already knew they’d be there again, her owl had delivered her subscription that morning as she’d gotten dressed for work. However, she knew just another glimpse would get her through the day. It was like an addiction, that small surge of pride through her veins when she thought of the chaos she’d had a hand in causing.
She stepped into the elevator, a red painted nail reaching out to hit the button that would take her down to the department of mysteries after the other occupants had left the small cage. She hated this bit, being forced into a confined space with people she felt uncomfortable sharing air with, almost enough to start another campaign for a private entrance for unspeakables. Again. At least nobody had been foolish enough to attempt talking to her. It was well known she wasn’t exactly receptive to a well meaning good morning.
As the other ministry officials stepped off the elevator one by one she became more comfortable, already mentally scanning through her to-do list for the day. It would be even harder than usual to concentrate on her work knowing that just floors above the aurors must have been pulling out their hair. Completely unaware that they were sharing corridors and elevators with the very people responsible for the attack.
She spent hours at her desk pouring over official ministry business, refusing to let herself become distracted by her own smug thoughts of the personal research that sat in the bottom drawer she had locked and protected against any magic but her own. She decided she needed a walk if she wanted to get any more work done, fighting off the burning need to take a peak into her own drawers. It was important that she attempt to keep some sort of low profile for the next few days, she didn’t want to make anybody suspicious.
Her walk was practically over before it had become, she had walked perhaps ten feet from her now locked office before she collided into somebody that most certainly shouldn’t have been there. Marlene McKinnon.
“What are you doing here?” She hissed, her eyes narrowing in her outrage. There was a sense of deja vu that hit her, layering on the dread that was beginning to grow in the pits of her stomach. “This is the department of mysteries. You should have even been able to turn that corner.” This was of course McKinnon’s fault, how she had managed this again Bella wasn’t certain but this time she would make sure it was the last.
The moment Sybill’s eyes met those of the woman before her, her stomach began to knot immediately. Dropping herself back against the wall, she crossed her arms over herself protectively, studying the woman as she attempted to discern just what it was about her that made her uncomfortable. Flashes of darkness clouded her vision, though that was a state she’d been in since she’d arrive this morning to the chaos. The witch attempted to steady herself with a breath, though suddenly it seemed that the air around them both had turned icy, leaving a feeling similar to inhaling frozen shards into her lungs. “Yes, closed.” She repeated, doing her best to keep the sneer from her voice. “Have you looked around, lately? Our fellow shop owners were attacked. A boy was killed. I’ve never been the most couth person on the planet, but eve I have the good sense to understand what poor taste conducting any form of business today would be.”
.
Most people changed in the presence of Bellatrix, she was used to catching the more subtle glimpses of it by now. From she was a child she had carried around an air of superiority that was capable of making people feel small just from one look in their direction, the darkness she held inside often seeped out and warned the more innocent to stay far far away. However, she was still amused by Sybil’s obvious reaction, a smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth as she watched the other witch take a breath before continuing on. That small dose of power that surged through her every time she was reminded just how well her reputation travelled? Well it never got old. “Well that’s hardly reason to shut down the whole alley. If a house elf can manage a few cleaning spells I’m sure even the most moronic of wizards can. And I’m certain they have gotten rid of the body now - they’re not letting it just rot in the street, are they?” Although perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, let it serve a real warning to the others.
Regulus had many other things he’d rather have done on a day off, but Amycus had kept going on about cleanup and the Mulcibers’ shop and the owl shop. Next thing Reg knew, it was evening and he’d spent the entire day casting repair spells and healing the ten thousandth person who’d tried to pick up broken glass with their bare hands. The pint in his hand was well-earned, goddammit.
“At least it was only the one man, right?” he said, making a face once he realised how that sounded. “I mean, I heard about the attack and thought it’d be all hands on deck at Mugo’s. Diagon Alley, y’know? But the worst thing I healed today was a broken toe– someone dropped a brick on their foot.”
Bellatrix did not lower herself to manual labour. She most certainly didn’t partake in cleaning up a mess that she had a hand in. And frankly she thought any Black working on their hands and knees was a disgrace....and they had thought her cousins would be more appropriate heirs than her, the very thought of Sirius or Regulus being up to the task made her want to roll her eyes.
She slithered into the seat facing him, her head turning as she motioned to the bartender for a fire whiskey and a look on her face that told the man to be quick about delivering it to her before swivelling back to look at her cousin. This time her face let him know just how disappointed she was. “Idiots, honestly. Some bloody wizards, it’s taken them all day to clean this place up.” She shook her head at the incompetence she saw all around her. “I don’t see why they are expecting us to help with this wreck anyway.” As though she hadn’t been at least partially to blame for the chaos lining the street. “That’s what house elves are for.”
♕ —- Mary had wished that she hadn’t opened her mouth the moment she heard Bellatrix be the one to reply to her. She had never met the oldest Black– they didn’t exactly run the same social circles and Mary was certain that Bellatrix wouldn’t normal choose to interact with the likes of Mary. And personally, Mary would rather avoid speaking to Bellatrix but here they were. “I doubt anyone would ask for your help anyway,” Mary commented and had to stop herself from calling the other woman, her highness. “But feel free to walk over the mess and debris, since you’re not volunteering to help.”
Mary was right, it wasn’t as though Bellatrix went out of her way to play nice with people she thought to be below her - which was the majority of the wizarding world’s population and everybody outside of it - however that didn’t mean that she didn’t like getting her two knuts in. Of course those were usually in the form of insults. She always had liked to play with her food before she eat it. “This alley was in terrible need of a renovation anyhow,” She said with a shrug, as though being bothered about the destruction of Diagon Alley and the lose of an innocent life was a frivolous thing to be wasting energy on. Her eyes flickered to the other witch’s, catching them deliberately as she continued, “After all, they keep forgetting to take the rubbish out.”
Rodolphus was the kind of person who enjoyed the quiet of the mornings - often waking up long before the sun came up as it was his preferred time of day for a long walk and contemplation. This day however, he knew that there would be a buzz of news and gossip about the events that had occurred in Diagon Alley, and as he sipped on his morning coffee spiked with fire whiskey holding the daily prophet as his fiancee appeared with a green flash of floo powder surrounding her. He chuckled darkly and tossed the extra copy of the paper for Bella to read it all for herself when he saw the excitement on her face, smirking as he didn’t think he had ever seen so much elation appear on her features. “And it’s happened at the perfect time too. Now more than ever people know that they need a healthy dose of fear and terror in their lives, and it was good to show them all that we are not afraid to take necessary action,” Other couples would probably talk about the horror of the attack, the life lost, the violence, but Rodolphus and Bella appreciated the art of a well planned strike, and to them this was light conversation to be had over breakfast, so he waved over one of their house elves to serve her some of the breakfast spread the house had prepared.
.
Bellatrix made a grab for the paper thrown in her direction, not even thanking Rodolphus before she began pouring over the inked words. She’d been too excited to fully read it before she’d seen him, merely allowing her eyes to scan over the article in the hopes that they had included everything. There were perhaps a few additional details she herself would have added but she supposed that it was adequate. It was attention, and that’s what they had wanted. “They should have been afraid before,” She added, her eyes barely leaving the page as she walked around to take the seat facing him, ignoring the house elves as they worked around her. They weren’t worth her attentions, especially not when there was more pressing issues at hand. She lifted her fiancé’s mug, taking a sip of the coffee, as she finally put The Prophet down with her other hand. She raised one eyebrow as her eyes caught his, as though she were amused to be within some inside joke. “I want more of that,” She demanded of the house elf beside her, already seeming impatient to be obeyed. It was never a request or a question, not to anybody. Bella said what she wanted and she got it. “We’ll have to keep up the momentum,” She stated as she picked up the toast on her plate for a bite, “We can’t allow them to become comfortable again.” While she could bask in the glory of their small victory for the morning, maybe even allow herself the full day of satisfaction, she had no doubt that this would not be the last time that such acts were necessary. A war was not won through one battle.
VIOLENCE TW / BLOOD(Y GIF) TW
who: Open (but you are a witness, no victims thank you)
where: outside the White Wyvern, Knockturn Alley
The scene he was creating was a pretty familiar one - though, perhaps, maybe, possibly, this version of it hadn’t really come out in a while. Though no one would ever accuse Amycus Carrow of preferring to take the high road, it had definitely been several months since he’d sent someone out of the window of the Wyvern … and followed after them – vaulting (mostly) cleanly through the shattered glass – to continue delivering the merciless beating the poor bastard was on the receiving end of. And because it had been a while since he’d had a scrap** like this, it was several minutes until Amycus registered that someone was speaking to him at all, though he didn’t recognize the voice; the blond was elsewhere mentally, and all but entirely checked out. “I’m uh… I’m a little occupied at the moment, did you need somethin’ or..?” he asked, a little gruffly, but not actually rudely - and to be fair to Amycus, he was exerting himself quite a lot just then.
**Summer note: it only technically counts as a scrap cause guy swung first
This was a scene Bellatrix had witnessed more than once or twice in her life-long friendship with Amycus Carrow. It was like deja vu, she knew exactly what was going to happen with all the confidence in the world. She would know exactly the right moment to make herself know, uncross her arms from their place over her chest and let the closest person she had to a brother know that play time was over. She watched the blood spill for a moment of two, eyes following the red strained trail it made with a shine of hunger, before shaking her head and snapping herself from the faze she’d wandered into. “Amycus!” She cried, repeating her call until he turned to her. She shook her head, this time in frustration, before making a grab for his bicep to pull him up. “Honestly Amycus, a little subtly wouldn’t go amiss,” She muttered as though she was an expert in anything subtle, “One day I am going to start refusing your invitation for drinks you know.”
