She watched him as he laid on his side, weeping and broken. The dark news that their wardens had delivered had stolen the last of his bravado and mockery. His cries were raw and painful from the hours of sobbing. It tore at her heart. She wanted to help him. To give him the same comfort that he gave her. His counsel and witty humor were the only peace she had for the past five years. When she had first been brought to this veritable hell on earth she believed it to be the end.

As she was forcefully dragged from the leaky boat along with her husband and brother-in-law the guard had seized her head by her hair and forced it to look up.

Lightning flashed within inky black clouds turning them a mockery of grey, swirling overhead in some great flat vortex. Rain as heavy as iron battered her bruised body and through its thick veil she could see it, the silhouetted monolith jutting from the rocky jagged land on which she stood.

Her captor pressed his mouth to her ear and hissed. "Do you see it bitch? Well get a long hard look at it 'cause this place'll be all that you know from now on." His hand twisted painfully in her hair. "The two of them were my friends. We graduated together, and while I may not be able to return the favor I can at least rest easy knowin' that something else is doing it for me."

She wanted to say something back, some scathing comment that would send him into a laughable fit of rage. But she couldn't. Only five minutes on this dammed rock and she could already feel her drive fleeing, as if all her will and hate was being pushed aside. Somewhere next to her she heard a whimper.

An ear stabbing screech called out somewhere atop the jagged slope that led to the prison. Great rusted hinges burdening some massive weight, and then she saw them, black shapes gliding through the grey haze of freezing rain. Her captor's grip slacked some and she fell to her knees. The water beneath her fingers began to freeze over, spider webs of frost raced up her arms while the burlap uniform she wore became stiff. Her breath waved out like a flag of smoke. The shadows circled them and one of the guards took a step towards them.

"These three have been sentenced here by the Ministry for life without chance of bail or parole. They are each to be placed in the maximum security levels of Azkaban and separated into different sections away from each other."

Three shadows moved for them, tall terrible things clocked in tattered robes. Skeletal hands slid from massive sleeves and seized them by their arms. The spots they touched burned with cold. Coming out of whatever trance that held them the two males began screaming and thrashing, cursing and pleading, crying and promising. She stayed silent, her head lowered in expectance. Together they were dragged before the monolith, through massive rusted doors and up a tall winding staircase. The screeching of rusted hinges signaled the sealing of their fates.

She noted with some ire that the people who built Azkaban did an excellent job. It was far, far larger on the inside then it looked from the outside. Most likely done by the most powerful and complex undetectable extension charms ever cast. With each flight they ascended they passed a collective of twisting corridors that went on and on and on into the darkness. Every here and there she spotted a lone Dementor moving into one of the cells, screams would always greet them.

After being dragged up an eternity of steps they were finally separated. Rabaston went first and she watched him fade into the blackness of the tight hallway, kicking and screaming all the way. Another flight and Rodolphus went next, silent and sobbing. Another two flights and it was finally her turn. The creature dragged her through the claustrophobic corridor, the walls and ceiling seemed to press in as if trying to crush her soul. Black crags littered the walls leaking light trickles of water which fed the growing moss. It covered the walls and floor like a soft carpet. But the spaces in front of some cells were blank with rock and she could make out faint scratch marks in the stone.

They stopped before a cell, it was a small cramped thing that was covered head to foot in moss and mildew. There was a narrow barred window with no glass that allowed the islands endless storm to fly in. A dark stained mat laid against the right side, flat and slimy against the ground.

The creature opened the thick metal gate and shoved her inside. She hit the floor hard on her side and slide across the uneven ground. With a loud slam the gate closed and the creature floated away. But its coldness stayed. Shivering she wrapped her arms across her chest and rubbed her shoulders in a vain attempt for warmth. Her uniform was soaked with half frozen water and when she looked about her cell she saw nothing that could be used as a blanket, just a thin, slimy mat shoved against the wall. She scooted up to the far end of the left wall, close to the door and away from the window. Pulling her legs to her chest she shivered as her bare feet slid over the slick moss carpet of the cell.

'Damn that man.' She thought bitterly. 'Damn him and damn the others, bloody cowards. If they would have come with us we wouldn't have gotten caught, could have fought our way through the Aurors. But no, they wanted to go play politics with their tails between their legs.' She lifted the bottom of her shirt and slipped it over her knees before going back to her shoulders. 'Then that, that, bloody fool had to go on a fucking crusade against the Cult of Pigeons and get us caught.' She rubbed at her shoulders with a fury. "Wish they'd give me a bloody sheet or something!" she growled out.

"You and me both. If the Dementors ever grow a conscious, do give me a notice, I could do with a good shave." A voice called out from outside her cell.

Whirling around she stared out her cell door, squinting against the dark. "Who's there?"

"Oh, no one special. Though must admit I'm surprised they placed someone else up here with me, must not have wanted me to get lonely, or someone outside doesn't like you." The voice was coming from the cell directly across from hers. In the random flickers of lighting she could just barely make out the outline of someone leaning against the cells gate. "Word of advice, don't go eating all of your moss to soon. The guards don't have scheduled meals for us up here. Some poor bloke a few months back ate all his in the first month, had to start scraping at the patches outside his cell before he finally starved."

That voice, it sounded so familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she heard it before. She didn't reply, to tired and drained from the events of the past week to continue talking. Instead she decided to lean back against the wall and tried to catch whatever sleep she could. The rumble of thunder that shook the prison actually aided her somewhat but the cold was making it difficult. Eventually however her fatigue won out and she finally managed to slip into peaceful oblivion.

A blood curdling scream woke her some hours later. Franticly reaching out as she woke to fend off an attacker with a wand she didn't have she noticed that there was no one else in her cell. Then the cold hit her. It was a deep, horrible chill that ignored flesh and muscle and went straight for the bone, making them throb in pain. Again the scream rang out. It was coming from the other cell, but before she could move to see what was happening her cells door burst open. It glided in, trailed by a think mist that seemed to spawn from the stone itself. A hand of flesh covered bone seized her by the throat and lifted her, feet flailing off the ground and hands pulling uselessly at the cold appendage. By the gods was it cold. Simple contact burned with ice, the frost biting at her skin. The hand that it wasn't using came up to slowly, ever so slowly remove its draping hood. She had heard the stories, read accounts in the thick volumes from the families library. None of it could prepare her for the sight. The black and grey decaying flesh hugged the mockingly human skull, but instead of a mouth there was only a hole centered in a thin non jaw. Deep pits covered in callused skin replace what should have been eyes. The smell, sweet mother the smell, like a field of frost bitten corpses.

The abomination pulled her closer, the lack of oxygen and pure air making her vision flicker. Then it inhaled, a long deep breath that pulled away all rational thought. And left only madness. Then she too screamed. Every happy memory, every peaceful thought was pulled to the front of her mind and twisted, violated, smashed together and forcefully fused with every horror and regret from her life. It was maddening. Her tenth birthday that brought the long awaited letter, her first murder, the dark mark ritual, her wedding day, the death of her cousin, the Sorting Hat's decision. All of it was taken and twisted before being sucked out and replaced with more memories.

It was too much. Her hands abandoned her throat and made pitiful swings at her captor. It ignored them, unaffected. She didn't remember passing out, but she must have because the next thing she knew she was laying in a tight protective ball, tears long since gone left half crusted trails on her face. The frost in the room had melted away leaving her soaked, but she didn't move to warm herself, it was too painful to try. So she laid there shivering in the dark, her long hair clinging to her face. But she must have made a noise because a voice called out to her.

"Ah good, you're awake. Was beginning to think you died on your first visit, wouldn't be the first time." Despite its hoarseness she could still make out the mockery in his voice. "But luck seems to be on your side today." A faint knocking echoed from outside her cell, like wood hitting stone. "It seems our hosts have seen fit to feed us."

Lifting her head painfully from the ground she saw a large stone bowl laying just inside the cell door, an old wood spoon stuck vertically in its contents. Joints ached and popped with each movement, her head throbbed every second so that when she finally lifted the bowl to her lap she was in too much pain to even think about eating.

"I would suggest not tasting the first bite. Or smelling it. It's not exactly solid so all you have to do is swallow." A dull scraping sounded from his cell. She was barely able to make out his words but she followed them. It didn't help. The cold left her nose stuffed and running so smelling wasn't a problem, but whatever fool said that not smelling your food would mute the taste was a bloody liar. The concoction was thick and paste like. The outside of it had crusted over from the air leaving it cold and hard and tasting like sour cheese but the inside was warm and was the flavor of stewed weeds and herbs. The first bite was hard to swallow, the second was worse, by the fourth she started gagging, amazed that she was able to keep it all down.

"Told you so. Try drinking some water, there's an indent by the window that catches whatever leaks in."

Sure enough there was, a small but deep pocket of stone that curved up to the open window. It looked deep enough to hold a gallon and a half and was so full that it spilled over into a rather large patch of moss. It tasted like the very stone that held it but did a good job of erasing the aftertaste of the 'food' she was given. The following minutes were spent between taking quick bites of her meal and chasing the taste with stoned water. The endless storm that raged outside saw that the pocket was never emptied.

Plopping down back on the dryer side of the cell she growled. "That was the foulest thing I have ever tasted."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Eventually."

"So..what are you in for?" She asked, desperate for something to do to pass the time.

"Murder." He said though it sounded more of a joke then an honest answer.

Its wasn't surprising. Most of the prisoners in Azkaban were either murderers or rapists. "And who exactly did you kill?"

He snorted. "No one."

Ah, now there was something interesting. "Oh, so your innocent then?" She mocked.

"In a way. I failed to kill someone who deserved it and was framed for his crimes. I suppose that makes me partially guilty."

"I'm sure half the people in here would say the same thing."

"And how many of them would be telling the truth?"

"Hm." Some time passed in silence before she finally asked. "So who was he, this man you failed to kill?"

"An old friend of mine."

"And does this friend have a name?"

"He does, one that I'm sure you know. You did graduate together."

A jolt went through her but she kept her voice calm. The war saw that a lot of her former classmates ended up here. Or in a grave. "And how would you know when I graduated, or where for that matter?"

He laughed. It was a hollow, mocking laugh that made her wish they shared a cell so she could throttle whoever the man was. "Because I know you Bella"

She scooted over to the barred gate and slammed a flat hand against it, making it rattle. "WHO ARE YOU?" Across the narrow hall that separated their holdings she heard him move closer to his gate.

"Come now, don't tell me you've forgotten your beloved cousin." Lighting flashes outside filling the cells but for a brief moment with light. And she saw him. Though his black hair was unkempt and his skin was paler then she remembered there was no way she would mistake that crooked mocking grin.

"Sirius?" She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Hello Bella, longtime no see."

"What-how-why are you in here?"

"I told you, I was framed for murder. Honestly girl you have only been in here for a day, you can't have gone mad already, err, madder."

"Don't you start with me!" She bite out. "Who framed you?"

"Peter Pettigrew." He Spat the words with such venom that Bellatrix shot back as if slapped or perhaps that was from the shock of the name.

"Peter? Wasn't he the fat boy in that little mischief social club you were part of?"

"Yes." His voice was hard now, lacking all of its playfulness.

She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know what to say to any of what had happened this past month. The Dark Lord, her master, vanquished at the hands of a boy, her and her dimwit husband and his brother's arrest. And now finding that her cousin Sirius was to be her neighbor inmate. She didn't know which in that list was worse. After they began their first year of Hogwarts, no, even before that the two of them had grown distant. There was a time once, so long ago that the two of them and her sisters Narcissa and Andromeda, were as close as family could be. And then the whispers came. Tales and rumors of a powerful lord that was fighting against the infection that the Magical World was suffering. Mudbloods and half-breeds twisting ancient traditions and sullying The magical world with Muggle beliefs to better suit their ideologies, because they thought that's how things should be. That they, ignorant children who where only just learning how the world truly worked, how large the globe really was, knew how the world should be better then the people that spent their entire lives as part of it. It was this that caused the split between them.

The Black family was one of the Many Pureblooded families that threw their support behind this mysterious lord. Keeping with the traditions they knew so well; alliances were made, treaties were drafted between long rivaling houses and marriage contracts were drawn, all while they were still in school. Sirius was the first to leave. Having never taken to the families Pureblood elitism already caused great stress between him and his parents Orion and Wulburga Black. After he was sorted into Gryffindor, a fact that greatly shamed the family, he took every possible moment he could to flaunt his rejections of the families ideals until his parents finally had enough and disowned him, sending him to live with his friend and distant cousin, James Potter and his family. Andromeda was disowned some years later when she married a muggle-born wizard she had been secretly dating immediately after graduating. Only Narcissa had stayed with her. The two of them were married off to two old allies of the Black family, Narcissa to the Malfoy's and her to the Lestrange's.

"So," he said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "What brings a lovely young thing like you to this shithole. Not that I can't guess. Is Muggle torturing not everything you dreamed it would be?" Gods she wished she could slap him. She couldn't, at least not with her hands.

"Oh it was everything I hoped for and more and I've gotten quite good at it. A fact that the Longbottom's could attest." She simpered.

Thunder rumbled in the storm. "What did you do?" His voice was colder then the stones that held them.

"Why do you care, beloved cousin? Knowing won't do you any good. Not in here."

"What did you do?!"

"I never knew Alice had such a pair of lungs. Wonder how she sounded in bed?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO WOMEN?!" It echoed through the empty halls louder than any thunderclap.

"We tortured them. Alice and Frank. Me, Rudolph and Rabastan raided their house and had a little fun. 'Course the party got boring after a few hours, but torturing the host into insanity tends to do that. Shame the rest of the Order of Magical Turkeys weren't there, they would have loved it."

There was a great slam of metal on stone as Sirius threw his weight against the bars, screaming and cursing. Bellarix ignored his words. The time after his rage had died down was spent in silence, save for the clapping of thunder, the rushing of wind and the slapping of rain against stone. Bellatrix chose to make her bed on the moss carpeted floor instead of the straw mat turned slime. She laid her head on her hands and closed her eyes and mind to the world.

"Why?" The question came suddenly some weeks later. The words choked and rough. Apparently there was something about them that the dementors liked because they made it a habit to visit often. The visits where hard on her. Her once flawless creamy skin that hugged supplely to her light build had shriveled and sagged and paled like a water logged pillow. Her hair which she used to keep flowing and black with a few stripes of white was now grey and straw like. She quickly discovered that aside from a quick tour of the cells that some Auro's made once every two weeks, only the demetors patrolled Azkaban. 'Jus' checking if any o' you scum expired yet.'

She didn't know why she wanted to answer. Maybe the silent hatred between the two had grown dull.

"The Dark Lord was cast down by your blood traitor friend's son, the Potter brat. We couldn't find him so we went for the Saggyrumps."

"But why? Why them, why anyone, why didn't you just give up?"

She ground her teeth together. "What is it to you?"

"I want to know what the bloody hell is going through that brain of yours that turned you in to a psychopath! You where always hard Bella but never cruel. What happened that made you want to butcher your own schoolmates?!"

"And why do you care?" She screamed over her shoulder.

"BECASUE WE WERE A FAMILY! We did everything together, went everywhere together. But when the rumors started flying you took to them like a starved dog along with the rest of the house. It took Regulus' death to get them to come into their senses and cut ties with Voldemort but you still stayed by his side like a bloody lapdog!"

Her anger snapped something deep in her mind, so hard that it felt like a physical event. Jumping up to her feet she whirled around to glare hot death at him. The evening suns light struggled through the thick torrent of clouds to allow a grey light into the prisons halls. Despite being in here over a month longer then her Sirius hardly looked any worse for wear. Aside from his ragged look from lack of decent meals the presence of the Dementors had hardly touched him. There were even times when they would visit them and she would be the only one screaming. "FAMILIY?" She spat the word with such a fury that might have given one of their wardens pause. "That's a rich word coming from you, dear cousin."

"Me? What did I ever do to you?" He was also on his feet pressed against the bars, hands holding them white knuckled.

"YOU LEFT!" The words where a sob as much as they were a shout.

He shot back as if struck, his eyes where wide and questioning. "W-what?"

She punched at the metal, ignoring the sharp pain it caused her. "YOU LEFT. YOU FUCKING LEFT US! You strutted around and bragged how different you were from the rest of the family after you were sorted into the Kitten Club until your parents threw you out and then you just ignored us, even at school. You left me and Narcissa and Andromeda to deal with the families politics and what it meant for us in the Snake den!"

He opened and closed his mouth, like a fish in need of water. "And what does that have to do with it? From what I remember you liked the being a part of the families affairs. In fact I remember someone saying that they wanted to become Lady Black after they graduated so they could help 'put an end to the muggle filth infecting our lives'. Whatever happened to that, huh? Isn't that why you joined the Death Eaters, so you could keep the Pure bloods on their golden pedestal? You were so damn proud when they sorted you into Slytherin that you had to double the size of your cap so it could fit over your ego."

"EGO!? You were the one prancing around the school like the sun was shining out your arse! I was going to do the family proud by forging new alliances with the other Purebloods in the common room, just like the family wanted us to."

"And what? Doing that meant having to join a cult of insane murderers and rapists? Did it mean having to slaughter Muggle-borns or butcher innocent people in their homes? Did it mean having to torture women and children that had nothing to do with anything? Did it mean that you had to bend your knees and lift your skirt to some abomination calling himself a lord, the same noseless bastard that killed off our family?"

He was screaming now, almost ten years of frustration and grief that had been building up now poured from his mind and through his lips. The death of his brother, the betrayal and slaughter of his family after they disavowed Voldemort, the corruption of his cousins, and the war. So many had died during Voldemort's rise to power, faces both old and new and most of them dear had joined the fighting only to be struck down.

"IT MEANT BEING BRED AND PARADED LIKE AN EXOTIC PET!"

His mouth closed and stayed closed, not expecting her answer.

"When your parents decided to sign a marriage contract between me and Rodolphus I accepted it. Even though I knew what a dense prick he was I still accepted because I knew what it meant to the family and how it would aid us. When I heard whispers of a Lord that was fighting for the ascension of The Magical World to its proper place above the muggles I searched for every opportunity, every hint of information that would allow me to join him because I knew he was in the right. So when Rodolphus told me that he not only knew who this Lord was but was also a part of his order I thought it a blessing. Hell, I even rode the bastard for all his worth when he got several others to put in a good word for me." Her voice was so low at first that Sirius had to strain his ears to hear her.

"And then I met him Sirius. On the summer after my fifth year Rodolphus took me to a gathering of other members and I met him." Through the grey light he could see her face, head tilted back and eyes wide with wonder. "By the gods Sirius he was magnificent. His very presence saturated the air with a magical aura so thick that it choked the life out of all others. Obliterated them like a hurricane would a paper house. Rodolphus warned me before we went that the man looked like a demon who mocked human form. But that's not what I saw. What I saw was inspirational. Here was a man so powerful, that had delved into forbidden arts so dark and twisted that they had corrupted his very being, and he still conquered them. He had dived into the depths of magic and chose to show the world what a wizard could be." She was pacing now. Stalking around her cell and moving her arms around as she spoke. The same way she always did when she talked about something she was truly passionate about. Like the happy girl she used to be. "And when I was finally presented to him I thought my heart would explode out of my chest."

The air was damp and cold in the depths of the cave that she was led to. Rodolphus had visited her at her parents' house and had woken her in the dead of night. "It's time. I got permission to bring you to a meeting." It was all she needed to hear, a week prior he had told her how he convinced several of his friends to put in a word for her. She had only met two of them but apparently the rattle of gold was enough to give the others a sudden knowledge of her. It had taken them an hour of seemingly pointless travel using brooms and secretly stashed portkeys to move about the country. Whoever this Lord was he was a paranoid fellow.

When they reached the back of the cave Rodolphus took out his wand and waved it before a random flow stone mound, muttering some words in a dead language she didn't know. The mound melted away to reveal a large door made from a deep, seamless red stone. Glowing runes stained a ring around a long slithering snake that was winding its way through a human skull. Rolling up his sleeve he presented his arm to the snake, a tattoo appeared on his wrist and pulsed with a faint green light. The snakes eyes mimicked it and the door sunk into the ground. Inside was a long stone hall that stretched back some forty yards. The stone was smooth and featureless save for the mounted torches. At the back was a gathering of people, a thick cluster of men and women, young and old, garbed in black robes. And before them, raised high on elevated steps was a throne that was seemingly carved into the wall. It was carved into the likeness of a hydra with two heads coming up the sides and jutting out as arms and the top half of a giant head looming over it, sharp teeth as long as swords ready to bite down. A great number of smaller snakes slivered and twisted around one another to form the remainder of the throne while the rest spilled down the steps as if to ward off any that wished to climb them.

And atop it all, he sat. Tall and skinny, his pasty white skin faintly glowing with an unearthly light and marred by a number of thin black veins. He lacked any semblance of hair, facial or otherwise. His head was strangely shaped, long yet flat with no nose or lips. His eyes were thin and sunk deeply into his face. But they glowed a fierce red. His legs were crossed high as he sat somewhat slanted in the large throne. One hand rested on an arm while other the rested easily in his lap, giving him an elegant almost feminine physique.

As she moved closer the air became thick and heavy, saturated with an overwhelming aura that made standing upright a difficult task. Her breaths came hard and frequent and her vision blurred. Sweat trickled down her spine while her hands shook. It was almost unbearable. She had practiced the darkest magic's she could find both in and outside of her families library. She had held items cursed and powerful from their vaults under Gringotts and practiced them with an expertise that made her parents sing praises. Nothing matched what she was feeling now. This creature, this man had delved into the depths of magic, not to practice or learn, but to conquer. And he had succeeded. Something that very few Wizards could ever hope to boast.

A hand on her back brought her out of her thoughts, short nails clawing into her skin. "Only speak when spoken to and don't you dare do anything to embarrass me." Rodolphus threatened into her ear, just loud enough for those close by to hear. His words did nothing to her. She knew the only reason he was acting so bold was because he wanted to look dominant in front of his 'friends'. They both knew who was really in charge.

He pushed her through the crowd and left her at its edge as he continued on before the base of the steps and knelt, head lowered in submission. The man on the throne gazed down at him impassively. "My Lord, as promised and by the grace of your permission I have brought my fiancé, Bellatrix of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black here before you. Though she is still in her youth she has shown great potential in various magical arts being at the top of her classes in Defense Against The Dark Arts, Charms, and Runes. She is also highly adept at the Dark Arts which she practices and explores whenever she is able like a true Pureblood should. As I have stated at our last meeting and will state again for all to hear, Bellatrix Black has shown not only strong interest in joining our society but has also expressed her beliefs in our cause and has demonstrated the will and passion to do what must be done for the good of all and see the tasks of our order through. This I, Rodolphus of The House Lestrange do so swear on my blood, and honor as a Pureblood, the rightful rulers of the world."

When he finished the words there was a resounding "Hear hear." From all those in attendance. The Lord raised his head to look about the gathering. "So the words are spoken before me and your gathered brothers and sisters." His voice was a light wheezing rasp that made the skin on her head and spine crawl. "Tell me, are there any here that would attest to dear Rodolphus' claims?"

A boy around the same age as her stepped from the throng and she recognized him instantly. His long blond hair fell down to his shoulders and his thin frame looked all the more slimmer in the tight fitting robes. "I, Lucius of The Most Noble House of Malfoy do here by swear in agreement with Rodolphus of The House Lestrange to the considered initiation of Bellatix of The Most Ancient and Nobel House of Black into our society." Again the gathering gave a "Hear hear" and others began stepping forward. Charles Crab, Hector Goyle, Bartemius Crouch Jr ,and Amycus Carrow.

In turn they spoke their consents and each time the Lord nodded once before looking to the next. When no more stepped forward his eyes finally fell onto her. Her entire body hummed, her breath came in short burst and she felt strangely cool. With a finger he motioned her forward. The few steps to the thrones base felt like an eternity. Not once did they break eye contact, not once did they blink. When she finally stopped he spoke. "Bellatrix Black, you are here before me at the insistence of your fiancé Rodolphus and several others, each one claiming that you wish to join us and our cause." There was a question in his voice, at least she thought there was and she answered.

"Yes my Lord." She was somewhat proud that her voice didn't shake.

He nodded once. "Then open your mind to me child, so that I may see for myself if you are truly worthy."

Rodolphus had warned her of that as well and what would happen if she refused.

The probe came suddenly but not forcefully. Her mind was still wrapped securely in its defenses. She was preparing to bring them down when something in his eyes told her not to. So subtle and calm that she doubted anyone else had noticed. Was he challenging her? Was this a test? Roldolphus never mentioned mental tests to her. Was he sworn to secrecy or was this just for her? So instead, slowly, carefully incase she was making a mistake and need to stop, she built them up, layering them with every wall and trickery that her years of study had taught her. When it was finished she gave a small, hesitant nod. The probe came down.

She expected a hammer blow, a crash of mighty thunder that would shatter her defenses and leave her mind crippled and open. She expected a forceful battle of wills. The probe came down slowly, gently brushing against the outermost defense, a solid wall of mental strength, searching testing then searching again. Then it just rested against it and the wall dissolved. As did the second and third. She didn't panic though. Despite the sickly cold that surged through whenever a barrier went down she didn't so much as flinch. The first few layers where basic defenses. The rest weren't so simple.

The Lord looked to be getting bored, disappointed that her mental strengths were so pitiful. He set a firm glare on Rodolphus and the others. How dare they lie to him and present this weakling. Angry and mock filler whispers roused up around them. She could feel her fiancés anger and shame. His probe abandoned its gentle test and began smashing down the walls like a child would a stack of blocks. He fell for her trap. Deceit is the strongest weapon when defending the mind. Then the Lord broke through the outer layer of simple defenses and touched her true capabilities.

The blow came down and her will rose to meet it. They connected and the second trick was played. A white hot blast forced the hammer back. A starburst of false memories and imagined pain.

He jumped, or at least it looked like a jump compared to the statuette like stillness he adopted since she first arrived. His arm muscles twitched, a vein in his skull bulged. Just for a second. Just for one second. He looked away from the others and focused back on her. Just a second. None of the others saw it. One instant moment. But she did, and he knew she did. She couldn't stop the self-satisfied smirk even if she wanted to.

The probe stopped. Hovering above her mind like the moon did the earth. No emotion laid in his gaze and she thought she might have gone too far. Her smile fell, an apology ready in its place. Then his lips twitched. Just for a second. And she knew. It was a game. Since the start it was a game and he thought she wasn't playing. And now he knew otherwise.

The others were forgotten.

The probe came back down. Testing then searching then testing again. Sometimes she let him, other times she lashed out. A warning. A challenge. She was playing now and she wanted to have fun. The hammer came and smashed it away. Her head twitched, his didn't. The probe took its place. Testing the new trick. The wall was round smooth, impossibly so. It tried to lay across and dissolve it like the others and slipped off. It tried again and again it slipped like water over oiled glass. There was nothing for it to grip. The hammer came next and it glided across its smoothness. A needle, so thin and perfect that she barely noticed came next. Poking and sliding again and again. What was he doing? The hammer struck and slipped and the needle went back to work. It continued like that, needle hammer needle hammer. Tap slip strike slip. She was confused until the hammer came again. Striking but not slipping. Then she realized, the needle wasn't poking, it was scouring. The doubt and confusion wasn't her, it was him, it was the needle. Scratching out her focus. She was to slow to act. The hammer came and the wall went.

The game went on for how long she couldn't say. She only became aware of the rest of the world when someone said. "Why is this taking so long? What are you doing wench?!"

Rodolphus yelled. "Bella what did I tell you about behaving? Do not waste the masters time with your foolishness!"

So this wasn't normal then? Thinking about it cost her another wall. When she heard someone come up behind her with the intent to punish her for insulting their master, the Lord made a gesture and an audible thud followed. It gave her time to reinforce the next wall.

It was an endless dance of will. Him testing her and her passing but still losing. Though some gave him pause and maybe even hurt him one by one the walls came crashing down. Mental mazes that led to gibbering madness, voids that swallowed thought and hope, mists that trapped you in your deepest desire. All fell one way or another.

A bubble of apprehension was building in her gut, an uncertain fear at what would follow his inevitable victory. One last wall. It was one loaded with desperation and acceptance. She had spent years perfecting it, ever since her father taught her metal defense when she was just a girl of seven. If anyone was ever able to make it this far she knew what the most probable outcome would be, she just refused to go down without leaving a mark.

The probe came down and hers shot out. Fast and sudden like lighting, you wouldn't register it until it struck you. As his probe buried itself into her mind hers was well on its way to destroying his. Layers of deceivingly weak barriers were pulverized, traps and tricks shattered, assaults swatted aside. The probe was lightning, always moving and destroying all in its way. Powered by all the will and magic she could and couldn't spare.

He never panicked, not openly. His face was like stone, cold and emotionless. His mind was more telling. Walls slammed down to block her way, twists and turns and false weaknesses tried to steer her astray. She burst through them. He was panicking. Triumph built in her chest. She was doing it. His probe stopped where it was while hers kept moving. She, a young school girl was about to overpower a fully realized wizard! All the torturous years of study and practice were paying off.

Then her probe stopped. Trapped and unmoving no matter how much she tried, like a bull in a tar pit. The lord smiled down from his throne calm and amused. His mind stilled, reorganizing and fixing itself as if he had cast a simple mending charm. He smiled at her and she remembered the game, and she knew. You could never beat a master at their own game.

His mental probe spread through her mind like water through a sponge. It pulled at her thoughts. Her reasons for joining them, what she wanted, if she would be loyal, what drove her, what she believed about magical society and why. It was so invasive she wanted to scream, to twist and shout for him to get out. But she couldn't move, neither her mind or her body. So she just stayed there. Knelt on the stone floor while someone that wasn't her snooped around her mind. A small part of her mind that was still hers said that it was necessary. 'It's a bloody secret order for Merlin's sake of course they were going to search your mind!' Everything else screamed that only she should know her thoughts.

He never dug to deep though. Her mind was open, her memories free for him to explore but he never did. All of the spells that she learned, the methods she used to study, the contents of the Black families vaults or the various family secrets she knew, he ignored them all. Choosing only to search her intentions. Why? Was it an act of trust? A way to avoid the ire of potential allies? Or did he just not care? Having spent years of his life in dedication to the dark arts was it possible that he knew all of these already?

Some of the memories did fall under his gaze unbidden. A side effect to the thorough destruction of her mental barriers.

Her wand lashed out, a bright red spark sent streaking across the room and striking him in the chest. The impact causing him to flip in the air and land on his chest. She snapped to the side and kicked one of his friends in the knee cap, he wailed until a second kick to the gut took the air from his lunges and he joined the heap of fools on the floor, six in all. They thought they were so freaking clever. Trying to corner her alone were the others were in bed. They knew she liked to stay up past curfew for a few hours of extra study. Why was it that boys felt the need to boast themselves above everything else so pointlessly.

Albert Hook stood clutching his chest with the aid of one of his fellow brain-dead chimps who was sporting a newly flattened nose. "Gah, you will pay for that bitch!"

She sliced her wand through the air and a new bruise appeared on his cheek. She would have made it a cut but the teachers would freak if they found out that a third year knew such dangerous spells, so she stuck to the basics. She wouldn't need anything more for this lot. The idiot whimpered from the pain. "For Hecate's sake Albert, if you didn't want to be hurt then you should have just stayed in bed. Now piss off I'm trying to read." She moved back to her cushioned chair by the fireplace, a thicvk book sat waiting for her. She whipped back around and batted aside a pathetically weak bolt of magic.

"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!" Albert yelled though it sounded more of a squeak. "I'm sick of you strutting around pretending that you better than the rest of us. Well guess what, you are NOT! You are just some pathetic girl that doesn't know her place!"

She clicked her tongue at him mockingly. "Albert Albert Albert. When will you get it through that thick skull of yours that I don't pretend to better than you, I AM better than you! And as for my place, why, I just so happen to find myself being the daughter to the brother of the head of House black, which would make me...oh a Black of course and last I checked the Blacks where a Most Ancient and Nobles House." She calmly picked up the cup of tea she had left on the side table and sipped from it elegantly, for no other reason than pissing him off further.

"Now then given the placement and structure of the Black's family tree I do believe that puts me on the main branch. And what about your family Albert, what titles do they carry?" His face was turning a very impressive shade of red. "Oh right, NONE! Zero zip nada. You come from a blood line of farmers and low class traders with blood purity as your only claim to being 'in equal standing' with the rest of us and the same goes for your toadies too." Two of them actually had the title of Noble attached to their houses but they were still filth in her eyes. "Now why don't you do us all a favor and just go back to bed. You are embarrassing our house with your nonsense."

"I won't forget this bitch." He spat at her. "One day I'm going to wipe that smug look from your face."

She waved them away absently. When they finally left she turned back and fell back into her chair. 'This is getting out of hand.' She thought tiredly. It was the sixth time that month where someone felt that she needed to be "put in her place". If it wasn't some lowborn nobody looking to prove themselves then it was a stuck up highborn fool that was trying to make a point. Jealously, disregard, hatred, sexism, she seemed to be the target of all of these things at one point or another. So she did what she did best, she proved herself. She proved herself by smacking down the high. She proved herself by stepping on the low. She proved herself by shining in her classes, by overpowering any that thought to take her place as the head of House Slytherin and she made examples out of those that threatened her friends or sisters. Not that they couldn't take care of themselves but only fools walk through a vipers den without protection.

She drank her tea and it calmed her nerves. "It sounded so much better before I came." Her parents, like all of the Blacks before them, were sorted into House Slytherin. She grew up on tales of how glorious House Slytherin was, how it was a House that only the truly exceptional could be sorted to. Cleary that was no longer the case. Instead she found only a hand full of what was promised. Buried underneath a cesspit of spoiled brats and arrogant weaklings. Hardly anyone in this house at any year could call themselves a true Witch or Wizard.

"The house is falling Bella." Her mother explained to her one winters night. "The standard for the Slytherin name has become muddled, a mirror image to the rest of our society."

"What can I do? I refuse to belong to a group of incompetent children!"

"Then become an example, an inspiration, an icon."

The probe stopped and he held her gaze. There was something in him, in his eyes, in his mind. This sense of familiarity and...understanding? He retreated from her thoughts. Slow and steady so her mind wouldn't be damaged from the backlash of a quick retreat. But something slipped in or was it placed there intentionally? A memory, piece of himself, an offered payment for what he saw?

His hand burned. He held it to his chest, violent red warts beginning to spread. They stood over his spot on the corridor floor, the cold hard stone bruising his knees. "What's wrong Riddle, not so smug without this are you?" he wiggled the wand between his thumb and forefinger mocking close but still out of reach.

"Little thirdies like you should learn to respect your betters." Another said.

"And making us look bad in front of the teachers." Another 'tsked' at him.

He ground his teeth together. "Your incompetence is no fault of mine. Maybe you should try studying instead of boasting about skills you don't have."

'CRACK' The first boys palm left a growing mark on his cheek. His face was red with anger. "We are all getting sick of that know-it-all mouth of yours Riddle." The others glared their agreement.

"We, or just you?" He bit back. "You three seem to be the only ones that are failing the house." He curled into himself we the boys foot connected with his side.

"You just don't know when to learn do you? You can play teacher's pet all you want but your still trash compared to us, always will be." The third boy growled. Riddle said nothing back, choosing to focus instead.

"What's wrong, no clever quip?" The first boy asked, tugging at his collar. Bloody thing needed to be re-fitted. Riddle said nothing.

The second boy stepped up and hauled him to his feet before cuffing him. "Don't you dare ignore us!" Riddle looked him right in the eyes and smiled. "What the bloody hell are you smilin' fo-URK!" The boy was thrown back across the hall, his arms protectively folded over his gut. Before they could act the third boys legs were pulled into the air causing his head to bash against the floor. The first boys collar was yanked back by an invisible force and he hung three feet off the ground, squirming to be free of his clothes. When his face began to purple and his limbs strength began to fade the hold on his collar vanished and he crashed to the stone, gasping and whimpering along with his friends.

The sound of footsteps made him look up. Riddle stood over him, face void of fear or amusement. He bent forward just a bit, just enough to look down at them all and retrieve his wand. "I will always be better than you."

Her mouth was left ajar and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. The Lord, Riddle, stared back at her, something unreadable in his red eyes. "Bellatrix Black." Only when he spoke did she realize how quiet the room was with only the crackle of flame and breathing of the others to fill it. "It would seem the words spoken of you were greatly undervalued. You are more fitting to join our group than any I have seen in a long while."

It took her a moment to find her voice. "Th-thank you My Lord." He understood. Constantly proving themselves to those around them, pushing and shoving themselves to their limits, standing alone above their peers. 'We're the same.'

"The years after that meeting were almost to marvelous to be real. On the summer that same year, after the Dark Mark ritual, he took me on as his only apprentice. It was almost worth it just for the look on Rodolphus' face when he found out." Bella giggled, her voice and face a concoction of hysteria and delirium.

"I learned more in the first year with him then I did throughout all of my years alone. He showed me ways to use magic that I never dreamed were possible, showed me artifacts that defied the very laws of enchantment. Alchemic potions that could freeze lakes solid with but a single drop, charms that could change the weather on a whim, hexes that would hoax entire villages into seeing whatever the caster wanted them to, cureses that would run through whole bloodlines, blades that could slice through magic, armors that would endure a strike from a giant while the wearer felt nothing! Every secret, every word, every TOME that he had discovered in his time he shared with me and only me! It was incredible." She pressed her palms to her eyes, her body quacking in rapture.

Sirius sneered. But only just. There was something in her voice, in her tone that clawed at his mind. 'It meant being bred and pampered like an exotic pet!' "So what Happened?"

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her legs gave way and she sunk to the floor. "The illusion broke."

"What?"

"It was all a lie, a game to him. Teaching me, bringing me into the fold, all just a game. I wasn't a prized student to him, just a prize. Like a well trained race horse I was only there for him to show off, to say to the rest of the world 'look what I made'. I thought that he valued me, that he was raising me to be his equal, his successor if something ever happened, that he cared for me, that he..that I.. the praises he gave me. Gods, and our parents were so proud when they learned. Always encouraging me to stay close to him, to be by his side."

"But that wasn't it. I was just a prized pony, a well crafted blade. Perfectly honed, fit for showing around, parading and lording over others and using, but still just a tool. Still something dispensable. I was there to be his mindless shield from his enemies, the whip to crack over the others to keep them in line. A trained dog is valued, you want to make sure you don't lose it, that it never turns on you. But if you do.." She shrugged. "You can always just train a new one."

Sirius knelt and leaned against the bars. When was the last time he had ever seen her cry? He searched for a memory but none came.

She gave a loud sniff. "And then later, the things that he wanted done Sirius. The things he made me do. I was his right hand, an extension of his will, I couldn't be seen as weak." She was shaking now. "I hate Mudbloods Sirius, hate them. There whining children that think they know better than anyone else. I hate them and goblins and all the other lowly creatures. But-but, the things I did, the things I had to do. The screaming and nightmares, and horrors. I couldn't stand it! I thought Mum and Dad would help but they couldn't care less. 'It's needed Bella. These thing must happen Bella. You are doing the family proud dear.' I couldn't find you or Andromeda and I just couldn't bring myself to ask Cissy for help, not after all the hard work she did to stay out of things. But then Regulus, oh gods I talked him into it, I didn't want to be alone anymore. He was so happy and hopeful when I came to him and after he joined I stayed by his side. I told him it was to keep an eye on him but I was just being selfish. And it got him killed! Oh gods Sirry it's my fault. I could have warned him, I could have stopped him, oh gods! I could have warned the whole family. I could have stopped all of it, oh gods!" she collapsed into a heap of sobs and wails.

His grip on the bars was so tight that it set them rattling, his skin tight across his knuckles to the point of splitting. His emotions and thoughts a hurricane in his mind. "Why Bella, why didn't you stop, why didn't you leave?"

Through the sniffs and sobs he could barely hear her. "Because I was afraid."

The time that passed after that day was a trial for Sirius. Bellatrix's confession, her admittance to everything she's done, he didn't know how to handle it, how to handle her. A damn broke in her mind that made her spill years of horrors and pain for only him there to hear, for only him there to comfort or damn her. Her pain was like a pyre to the Dementors. Drawing them constantly to their cells, feeding off their pain, off her suffering, and at times when they came and he was safe in his small furry form he would watch and listen in horror to her broken please for salvation. Watching as what was left of her mind slowly chip away.

Part of him wanted to let it go on. To let her feel the pain and torment that she had unleashed upon countless others. So that she might feel just a fraction of their pain. Another side of him couldn't stop hearing his poor cousins screams.

"Bloody hell." He pushed himself from the ground, his arms sore and weak. His throat felt frozen and impossibly dry. Standing was too much work so he pushed and pulled himself to the water basin only to cure its height. The body needs proper motivation to do something it is so against but the lure of cold water was enough to give him the strength to stand for a drink, albeit needing to lean against the stone for support.

The Dementors were becoming more insistent with their feeding. They had taken to coming in groups. Sliding back to the ground he took to scraping the frost from his clothing and hair. Their cold had yet to fade from his cell, his breath was thick in front of his face. He shifted gingerly to his side, preparing to grow some fur and warm himself. But a whimper caught his ear. Biting his lip he tried his best to ignore it. To ignore her. But it came again, louder, harsher, hitting the note that strikes at the heart of all good men. Difficult to forsake impossible to ignore. That it was her making the sound, that he still wanted to care. He cursed himself, and crawled to the gate.

Her cell was dark, night on Azkaban made everything darker then should be possible and the lightning only served and making shadows thicker. He couldn't see her but he could hear her. Hear her whimpers and moan, her sobs and begs. He wanted so damn much to leave her to her suffering, leave her to the hell she brought herself to. Conjuring images and stories of all of the horrors that she had committed. All of the death and suffering, the loss and mutilation and fear and unforgivable atrocities that could be placed right at her feet. Part of him wanted to damn her.

Another part, a stronger part of himself was unable to remove the echoes from his mind. Echoes from the past eight mouths of her screaming and crying and begging for release. Release from the pain, from the hopeless despair, from the endless nightmares that her own broken mind forced upon her. Crying to anyone, to him, that someone would forgive her. That someone would understand her plight.

He couldn't. he shouldn't. you can't just wash away that much blood with a few tears and apologies.

'Why Bella, why didn't you stop, why didn't you leave?'

'Because I was afraid.'

'Damn me.' Part of him couldn't forget his cousin.

"Bella." He called. Nothing.

"Bella!" Only more subs and the crackle of the storm.

"BELLY!" His old nickname for her. She always hated it.

"Sirius?" She sounded surprised and he didn't blame her, it was the first time he spoke to her in months.

His mouth felt dry again. Doubt scratching at his mind. 'Because I was afraid.' "Do you remember that one summer when we went to Moscow, on a visit with my parents to meet with the Goldaxe patriarch?" It was an old memory but one from a better time.

He saw her crawl over to her cells gate and he had to bite back a yelp when a flash a light showed her face. 'She's getting worse.' Her eyes were sunk deep into her head, her sick sagging loosely from every spot. She looked like someone that gave up on living. "Mmh, you mean that old bearded ox of a man?"

"I think that might have been his wife." He joked. The darkness didn't allow him to see if she smiled. "Remember his daughter? She most have been ten years older than us but I swear she had the mind of a toddler. Remember?"

The was a pregnant pause before. "I remember. Why are you talking about it?"

He licked his lips, cracked and scabbing despite the constant moisture. "In Azkaban happy memories are hard to come by. The Dementors toke most of them, perverting them into twisted fragments of themselves. The secret to not losing yourself if to find a memory any happy memory or as many as you can and hold onto it. Hold it in your heart and make it yours. Make it your center your core. Keep it with you like a fire and feed it so that it can only grow brighter and stronger."

"Like the Patronus charm?"

"Yes, exactly like a Patronus. Now think Bella, think of something happy, that made you happy. A memory of friends or an accomplishment."

"...why?"

"Why? Because it will help keep you sane that's why! Do you want to lose yourself to your own mind?!"

"No, why are you helping me?" Her voice was weak, to weak.

'I couldn't find you..'

'Because I was afraid.'

He bit the inside of his cheek. The taste of copper covering his tongue. 'Because I'm a damn fool.' "Because I want to believe in you." And he found himself wishing it true. He wanted there to still be some spark of the old Bellatrix still alive. Still shining under the monster that she became. '...the things I did, the things I had to do. The screaming and nightmares, and horrors. I couldn't stand it!' No, he wanted to save what was left of her.

"I don't want to be sane. I want it to end. The water basins, I can't keep my head under. Something won't let me and those things won't let me starve."

He slapped the bars, pain rippling his hand. "Don't you dare talk like that! You've never given up on anything before don't you dare start now. Now think damn you, think of something bloody happy!"

"I can't, I can't think straight anymore Sirry."

"If I can do it in this place then you definitely can!"

"...what's yours?"

"What?"

"Your thoughts, your happy memory, what s it?"

She was staring at him from the floor. Eyes small and void of life, of hope. He licked at his lips more to out of habit than anything else. what was his happy though, the one thing that kept him sane even in the heart of hell? "My god son." It came as a whisper, soft and peaceful. The very act of saying it was enough to bring him comfort unimaginable to any other that stayed rotting in this waking terror.

"What?"

"My god son, Harry. James and Lilly's son."

She saw how his shoulders sagged, how the stress melted from his face. The Potter boy, the child that ended Voldemort. That was where he found his peace? "Tell me about him."

He rested against the bars, eyes looking away into a long past time. "I was there when he was born." He started, allowing his mouth to work while his mind wandered. "James and Lilly were hectic for weeks leading up to the delivery. They fretted and fussed about every little detail even after he was born. From the color of the nursery to what clothes he should wear. The way they talked you would forget that there was a war going on. And when he was born James was so proud he started to cry like a damn fool. He-he was a mess. Sniffling and shaking, I was half afraid he was going to drop Harry when he was handed to him."

"They had to go into hiding before he was born because of the..because Dumbledore said it was for the best. They hated it, hated the thought of hiding away while old noseless was still running around but me and Dumbledore managed to talk them into it, and once Harry was born they finally stopped bitching about it. I bought his this broom." He started to laugh. "A little toy broom with a built in seat that he could sit on and fly around without falling. Oh Lilly hated me for that but him and James loved it. We would invite Andromeda over and she would bring little Nymphadora and I would spend the day just chasing them around the house."

"Only a few months old and he already had James' love for flying. Doesn't look a thing like him though. He has his nose for sure but that's about it." He leaned back with a loud sniff, running his hand through his hair. "About a month before...before they died. They had a get together with the Longbottoms. I still don't know how but somehow Harry managed to squeeze himself and Neville into the broom and fly themselves onto the roof. The bloody thing wasn't suppose to go more than a foot from the ground but somehow he got it up there. I thought Augusta was going to have a heart attack. The little idiots sat at the edge and waved down to us. None of us had our wands on us either so we were clustered under them trying to tell toddlers how to fly a broom back down safely. Then they just decided to walk off the edge. Lilly screamed James screamed Alice and Augusta cursed. But Harry just grabbed Neville and yanked him back onto the broom with him and the two just floated down. Lilly broke the thing over my head after that."

There was silence for a time. Those memories were a double edged blade for him. The joy they filled him with came with the reality that his two friends were dead and their son was placed wherever Dumbledore thought was a good place.

"I didn't kill him."

"What?" Bellatrix was sitting up now, looking at him with slumped shoulders.

"The Longbottom boy. Rodolphus heard about the prophesy. That's what you were going to say right, they had to hide because of the Prophesy?"

"How did.."

"I am, was, Voldemorts right hand. He told me everything. Rodolphus wanted to kill the Longbottom boy because of it, because we couldn't find Potter. I told him it was a stupid idea but he was insistent."

"Then why did you go?"

She shrugged. "I was angry, lost, the world I forced myself to except was just torn down by an infant I wanted some way to hit back. When we raided the house Rodolphus and Rabaston were dueling with Alice and Frank so I went to find the brat. He was there in his nursery crying his head off. I pointed my wand at him. Held it right to his throat." She stopped, pulling her legs up to rest her head on them. "But I couldn't do it. I have killed children before, it was nothing new, some younger some older then he was. But I just couldn't do it."

Sirius stared shocked at her. He was certain when she first told him that they attacked Frank and Alice that Neville suffered with them. "Why?"

"I don't know. I guess it was because of what he was. There was a chance that this squealing pink thing could have done what your god son did. Ended Voldemort. I guess some part of me felt that if I didn't kill him then in some way, in some asinine way, it would be me that caused his downfall. So I placed him under a sleeping charm and stuffed him into the closet with a few temporary shields. By then the others finished with his parents and I told them that he wasn't there. So they took out there frustration on the two. I was confused and pissed so I helped them before the Aurors showed up."

"You wanted to strike back a Voldemort, that's why you spared him?"

"Yes."

"But, then why? If you hated him that much, if you hated what he made you do that much then why did you still serve him the way you did? Why did you torture Frank and Alice?"

She thought for a moment. "When people are forced into something, when they are weighed under a pressure that they can't escape, like this place, there are really only two things they can do. They can give in and die or they can adapt. By the time I realized what his goals were, when I learned what kind of man he really was I was already in too deep to back out. The dark mark was on my arm and I was too much of a coward to fight back. So I adapted. I was told to do horrible things and I learned to love them forced myself to love them, and with each task I completed I placed myself in a better light with him. For a time I was ok with it. He would teach me and praise me more and I would fulfill his every order just to please him. But the more I did for him the more horrible the next task would be and I saw the cycle I damned myself to and that's when I realized, that's when I finally saw him for what he really was. He never cared about the Magical world, about me. All he cared about was his own status, his own power. He only said he cared about pure-blood supremacy because he knew it would gain him a powerful following. But it was too late for me to do anything. My hands were to red for anyone to forgive me and I soaked myself in too many horrors, and learned to love them too much to try and be anything else."

"But now, in this place I just can't bring myself to adapt anymore. I don't have it in me. I don't have any happy times to fall back to like you do, none that I didn't screw up with my own hands. There nothing I can do in here."

"...do you have an animagus form?"

"What? Yes, why?"

"The Dementors can't sense animals like they do humans, there almost blind to them or maybe they just can't feed off of them so they don't bother. A week after they threw me in here I morphed in a panic. Wasn't sure why though, I guess I thought I would just bite the bastard that was going to make me a meal but when it floated in it just glance around like it was lost before it left. As did the next two and it seems that the ghouls aren't to bright because they never cause a fuss over it. That our they just have too much food laying about to care"

"You're an animagus, why didn't they place wards around you?"

He cleared his throat. "It's not exactly public knowledge."

And for the first time in a long time Bellatrix let out an honest laugh. "Only you would do something stupid and illegal and have it work in your favor."

"Yeah well what can I say, I'm amazing."

"Sure. If transforming works like you say then why don't you just stay that way?"

"I don't know if they would still bring up food if I did and it takes to much energy to change consistently. So I would suggest eating some moss and changing now until our next meal. Hopefully it won't be to long away."

"Why are you telling me this now? Why are you helping me Sirius?"

He didn't need to think this time. 'I couldn't find you..' "Because I abandoned you once before, I won't make that mistake again."

"...thank you."

He nodded even though she couldn't see it. "Now shut up and eat your floor salad."

"Prick."

"Scathing. I sure hope your animal form has fur like mine does, it's oh so comfortable, and warm."

"Gods you are such an arse!" Her voice was muffled he guessed she was speaking around a mouth full. "What is your form anyway a donkey? It sure would fit."

"Nope, it's a dog."

"You mean you're a mutt?"

"Shut up and change!"

There was silence for a moment and he wondered if she had done it yet or if she was still eating. A bolt a lightning flashed and he saw her. Tall pointed ears on a large angled face resting on a small furry body. Wide eyes shining in the light and glowing in the dark. "You would be a bloody cat wouldn't you?" She hissed at him. "What even is that a bobcat or something, a lynx?"

REEOOWW

Scoffing he moved onto his hands and knees before feeling his bones shift and his body shrink. He barked at her once and curled up to sleep.

He crashed back to the floor, his sides felt like fire. He struggled for breath before a boot connected with his ribs. "Where is he Black, who took him!"

"I told you I don't know!" It didn't make sense. It wasn't possible. Harry, the Dursleys, gone, attack, missing. His mind couldn't grasp anything. How did this happen? He looked back up to the Aurors, the team that was sent to interrogate him. Vaguely he could hear them doing the same to Bella. "Please you have to believe me I would never hurt him, any of them. I didn't kill James HE WAS MY FRIEND! Please just let me help look for him, please he's my god son please!" His eyes were burning, hysteria overtaking his rationality. Harry couldn't be gone he just couldn't. Dumbledore was suppose to keep him safe, why was he at the Dursleys? Did other Death eaters find him? Was it... "Peter, it had to be Peter! Please you have to let me out I have to find him!"

Pain exploded across his jaw his mind went blank for a moment. When he came back to himself he was held against the wall again. "Don't you fuck with us! Pettigrew is dead, you killed him! Now I'll ask you again. Which one of your accomplishes kidnapped Potter?"

"Please you have to believe me please, PLEASE!" His cries fell on deaf ear. It went one for hours. Nothing he said would convince them, would make them believe his innocence. In the end they left he a blooded mess on the floor. Still crying. "Please you have to believe me, please."

XxXxX

A gurgle of colors and places sounds sights and smells.

The forming storm made the night sky dark, cloudless, perfect. A wind picked up around him and he let it push him on, as if the gods themselves sanctified his mission.

The world around him was mounds of dust in the wind.

He saw the house now. Now that he knew where to look, how to look. It was such a simple thing. Two stories in a cape cod style. Striding up to the door he flicked his hand. It exploded into dust.

"Lilly it's him take Harry and run!"

The people were blurs. Shadows being cast from a flame.

He watched the women run up the stairs taking them three at a time, a bundle held to her chest. The man sent a bolt at him but he slapped it aside with his wand. Normally he would play with him, a small token for their stupidity for facing him. But the matter at hand was too precious to afford the luxury.

"Avada Kedavra." With a flash of green he fell dead.

The women barded herself behind a door with only a set of pitifully weak barriers.

"Please, please not him, not him take me, please!"

He growled hate her. "Step aside women!"

She didn't move. More yelling followed, more screaming more begging.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He turned to the crib.

A boy was in it. Sitting. Looking up at him with large green eyes. Red hair on his head.

He pointed his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

"Ah!" Harry bolted up. Sweat drenched his face as he gasped for breath. Rays of light shown through the cracks in the walls and boarded windows.

'A dream.'

He wiped the sweat from his brow and his hand came back bloody.