บท 1: Black
Bella's breaths encroached upon the oxygen mask, their imprints leaving thick traces of fog, decreeing the closeness of her demise. She was but a child, no older than thirteen years of age, and yet most of her life took place within the confines of white walls, piercing light, and the strong smell of disinfectant.
For a while, Bella believed that she would one day become cured of her affliction, but when she graduated from hopeless naivete at the tender age of six, when she overheard the nurses discussing her condition and her limited life expectancy, she decided to at least make something of herself in her remaining paltry years. There wasn't much one could do with restricted mobility, however, thankfully for her era, the internet was a veritable goldmine.
She had started to become fascinated with all the knowledge available to her at a mere click. She was able to complete what would have been her education had she been fit enough for a real classroom environment. But that was not enough for her. Her obsession led her to continue on through her education, completing her A levels and by the time she was eight, she enrolled in an online university course in mathematics, something she found she had a particular aptitude in.
By the time she was ten, she had completed a mastery in mathematics and continued studying whatever interested her. She spent her time in the confines of the white hospital room reading interesting books, studying history or economics or whatever else she felt compelled to explore.
She found a particular interest in online chess, entertaining herself with the feeling of constant improvement in her strategies and tactics.
As an orphan benefitting from the free healthcare system, she lacked much affection, receiving it only in small doses from whatever nurse or doctor there was to complete their routine check-ups. She had not even entertained the idea of being adopted, knowing she was on an unforgiving timer. There were other children in her situation at the hospital, but she never found herself able to connect with them. Their eyes still sparkled, and their innocence remained.
Sometimes, Bella felt like she was never supposed to be as mentally aged as she was, but she was on some level grateful that she was able to make the most of her time by sinking herself into the next new piece of fascinating knowledge, or some enlightening or entertaining book, or the genuine elation of beating a higher ranked player.
The feeling of improvement, even though it was purposeless in its aim, given that she only had a few years left to live, was something at the very least to live for.
And now her time was coming to an end. If she was able to live a full life, she may have had the ambition to become rich or powerful. If she had the freedom to aspire to her desires, if she wasn't confined to the cage that was her body, she could have done so much.
Even upon her dying breath, she still felt so…
Bitter.
And that was how Bella died.
—
6th July 1961
The elves of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black scurried around, attending to their Lady. Master Cygnus was in a meeting with Lord Arcturus so the elves were the ones tasked to deliver the Mistress' third baby.
Bella felt pain as the sensation of being squeezed through a constricting canal passed through her. After what felt like hours, she could finally breathe, and yet the sound emerging from her was a high-pitched cry.
She paused at that, struggling to open her eyes, and the first sight she saw were large round eyes the size of tennis balls protruding from a face with sharp elfin ears.
And the next moment, she was passed into the arms of an exhausted dark-haired woman.
'What… is going on?'
The woman gazed into Bella's eyes and smiled.
"Bellatrix Black… Your name is Bellatrix Black, so mote it be."
And that was when things clicked for Bella, no - Bellatrix. The elves, her name, and the otherworldly something that permeated the air.
She was the third Black sister, the future insane witch and most loyal branded cattle of a sociopathic wizarding Hitler.
She was in the world of Harry Potter.
These facts zapped through her newborn neurons like lightning, and what came after was a swirl of rampant and chaotic emotions.
Fear, confusion, anticipation, excitement…
"Waaah!" Bellatrix's high pitched cry bounced through the walls of the manor, and with it a surge of magic that crashed against the wards, leaving broken furniture and upturned floorboards in its wake,
And after her mother waved her wand and the damage reversed itself with a highly powered 'reparo', there was a single emotion that thrummed within Bellatrix's core, overtaking all the others.
It was an emotion she was barred from possessing in her previous life. A need so great, it overtook her other desires.
For the first time, Bellatrix felt hope and ambition.
—
17th October 1961
'Move…' Bellatrix focused on a quill upon the desk, attempting to will and direct her magic to her whim.
'Move!' Bellatrix all but commanded, and yet still the quill was painfully stationary.
'Haa…' Bellatrix sighed in slight disappointment. The fact she could feel magic all around her, as if there was something extra that completed her existence in a way that was never there in her previous life was both exhilarating and exhausting.
She had only managed that singular feat of accidental magic upon her birth, and even when she closed her eyes, she could recall the sensation of magic flowing through her, begging to be released.
Over the past few months, she had tried to bring forth that feeling again, to direct her will to affect change around her. She had not succeeded once yet, but Bellatrix was persistent, and would keep trying.
If Tom Riddle could direct his magic as a child without a wand, there was no reason she should be unable to either.
Her magical experiments aside, she found her current circumstances… acceptable.
Living as a member of the infamous Black family was surprisingly comfortable for Bellatrix. Having had no experience with the concept of family, she did not particularly mind the lack of outward affection from her new parents. She was taken care of by the House Elves; she had only seen her parents, Cygnus and Druella, twice, but she had formed some impressions of them. The former seemed to maintain an eternal faint sneer, while the latter, though outwardly cold, possessed a kind and warm soul.
Being only a few months old, Bellatrix spent her time in her cot, thinking about the story she had read in her previous life and observing the magic about her.
The magic was thick, like a viscous fluid that swirled around her, welcoming and inviting her to understand it. It was as intriguing as it was intoxicating.
Two House Elves, Tizzy and Mitsy, were responsible for her care. They fed her, cleaned her, and entertained her with their magic or read her stories. She felt rather privileged for being the recipient of such high-end treatment.
—
4th February 1962
Half a year passed since Bellatrix was born and currently, a small figure with black curly locks draping down her neck sat still in her cot, and only the sound of measured breaths suffused the stillness.
She reached deep within herself, attempting to feel something different when compared to her previous life. She was no longer a muggle, and therefore she knew the secret to controlling her magic must be somewhere within her.
For the past few months, she meditated, trying to feel her magic, to become more familiar with its illusory ebbs and flows.
Time passed, and now…
'There!' Bella smiled as she felt a warmth in her chest, coaxing it out slowly. Magic passed through her, and sizzled at her fingertips.
She opened her eyes and directed it to that stubborn quill on the desk across from her.
'Move!' She all but commanded, and she felt the ambience shift slightly, altering some law, and the quill levitated for a second before falling.
Bellatrix smiled widely, a genuine smile. She felt elation, the same type of euphoria when she defeated an accomplished chess master or solved a particularly difficult mathematics problem. Only this time, she could feel the magic around her singing in the air, welcoming a new practitioner of their arts.
She did not think she would ever tire of the feeling.
At that moment, she felt her eyelids drooping, and a dizziness came over her as she fell asleep.
When she next awoke from her magical exhaustion, she would feel somehow slightly different.
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