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Dueling Loss.

The day had started off with Bellatrix having a row with her father Cygnus. She'd just been getting her bag ready so she could return back to Hogwarts for the remainder of her seventh and final year. She had known this wasn't going to go well, as Cygnus approached and wanted to speak to her alone. "I would like you to distance yourself from Rodolphus." "I beg your pardon?" "I am having second thoughts. The Lestrange name bound to ours...it would be seen as stepping down. He isn't fit for us. The family deserves better. Surely you see the issue, my dear." Bellatrix set her bag down, listening. The desire to laugh was strong. But she refrained from it as it wasn't a laughing matter. "It's always the 'family'. Never me. You don't give a proper shit what I want, do you? Well, I don't give a damn what's good for the family this time. I want what's good for me and I'm not going to distance myself." She didn't say she loved him. If she did, Cygnus would undoubtedly break them up. Those were words that were foreign to her father. If Cygnus and Druella were hit by the Hogwarts Express, she would not have cared. She imagined herself as the one pushing them in front of the speeding train if she was honest. But she did not speak of how she felt for Rodolphus, not to anyone, though Cissy had an idea. The words had barely escaped her mouth when his fists came at her. Bella's mind went elsewhere as she took the beating. She could very well have hexed him. She could have cast protego to shield herself. She was an excellent witch. She didn't need anyone to tell her this. She was confident in her abilities. However, to use said skills on her father would be a death warrant. And if she were thrown out, who would take the brunt of the hits for Andie and Cissa during the summer holiday? Instead, she simply thought of other things. Other places. The only motion she made was to look at her watch. "I have to get the train," she finally spoke, her sides and core aching. He would never mark her face and let everyone know he beat his daughters. Rather, Bella at the very least. Grunting under her breath, Bellatrix lifted her bag and apparated to King's Cross. Seeing Rodolphus there, she approached, leaving him unaware that she'd just received a fierce beating over him. Instead, she spoke of their match at Duelling Club later on that day with great enthusiasm. Later That Day: Stepping up onto the dais, Bellatrix grinned as Rodolphus joined her. Standing back to back, they took the requisite paces before turning around. Allowing him to send out the first spell, she easily blocked it, returning fire--quite literally--with incendio! Bellatrix was enjoying the duel until the pain in her sides began to really ache. She could manage. She'd have to. They were nearly done. A few more minutes and she'd finish Rodolphus off, and the next match would begin. But as she felt a stabbing pain, Bellatrix realised something was quite wrong. To the point where she didn't block or counter and Rodolphus's curse hit her squarely in her chest and belly, knocking her to the ground. The witch didn't even care that she was going to lose. There was something wrong with her. How could she say so though? Her father would have her head if she mentioned the beatings. The one time that she did, he'd said she was 'given to delusions for attention'.

He was untouchable, and she was suffering for it.

The room went silent as they all stared, wondering if she was going to get up. Her perfect record was broken. It seemed impossible to believe. Bellatrix attempted to push herself up, but the pain was excruciating and she could barely breathe. The silence was finally broken by the sound of heavy footfalls approaching her, and then with soft apologies as Rodolphus lifted her. "N-no…" She pleaded with him. "Shhh." She didn't have the energy to further protest, instead remaining silent as he began to carry her to the hospital wing. "Open the bloody doors," Rodolphus demanded of an awestruck second year. "Duelling Club is done for the day, obviously. Bellatrix is ill." As soon as the doors were open, he moved swiftly through the school, cursing at the moving sets of stairs and curious eyes falling upon them. Bella was indifferent to it all as she lay in his arms. Perhaps she'd die, and be past the irritation of living. As soon as the thought entered her head, she thought of her sisters and pushed it out.

"I need help please!" Rodolphus called as they entered the hospital wing. The nurse blinked before motioning to an open bed where he lay her down with great care. "What happened?"

"We were at duelling club, but there's something wrong. I hit her with a single blast, but that's nothing to her usually. "

Madame Coughlin, a strong Irish witch in a little frame, shook her head. "What curse?" "Just a single defensive blast from my wand." The young wizard replied, before leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he said brought two flushed spots to the nurse's ear and she brushed her hands over Bella's sides. As she did so, the young witch groaned. She could have screamed, but she held that back.

"I need the Skelegro. Miss Black, lay down!" Bellatrix grunted. She'd rather have broken ribs than a taste of the wretched stuff. She could smell it as the nurse opened it, making her ill. Any medicine that came out of a bottle steaming ought to be banned. Bellatrix felt Rodolphus take her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. He was trying to comfort her. He really was too good for her and her family. She sighed, opening her mouth and taking a sip, nearly spitting it out. It was the vilest thing and it burned going all the way down.

"You're safe here, Miss Black. Please rest," Madame Coughlin urged her. "Mr. Lestrange, you have to go now."

Rod looked down at her and Bella nodded. "Go take your victory lap," she murmured as the nurse gave her a sleeping draught.

When she awoke the following day, there were flowers from Cissa beside her on the table, and chocolate frogs from Andie. Beside her though, in a chair sat a tired Rodolphus.

"The winner!" she smirked, watching his face change as he registered that she was awake. Raising her hand to his lips, he shook his head. "No. You weren't in any condition to fight, my sweet Bella." "Take the win." "No. Now, what did you and your father fight about this time?" "I don't want to talk about this." "Bellatrix." His voice was soft, but firm. He wasn't going to let her off easily and she sighed.

"He said…he regretted putting us together. That….you aren't good enough for the Black family. I told him I didn't care what was good for the family and that you only had to be good enough for me." Bella's heavily lidded eyes fixed on his face. He had to know that he meant something to her now if she was brazen enough to state it to her father. "After he so eloquently told me what he thought about that…" She sighed. "It was time for me to get to King's Cross. I didn't realise how badly I was hurt. I've had broken ribs before. Madame Coughlin says I need another night in here, as she wants to make sure everything has healed up alright. At least I don't need more Skelegro."

Hurt was written on Rodolphus's face. His name was nearly as respected as Black within their world. They were purebloods with a long history. And considering that his parents were of a similar mind as her own, they were a fine match. Bella couldn't really imagine being stuck with anyone else. Merlin knew she wasn't easy to deal with and he did so without question or hesitation. He knew how to calm her rages down, and he understood what it was to live with overbearing parents who dictated every thought and action in their lives. He defended her when some were brave enough to dare insult her. But as his dark eyes met her own, the expression melted away. It was as if he realised what she'd said. That she had stood up for him. And not only had she stood up for him, but she had also made it clear that her mind would not be changed no matter what her father wanted. Bella had chosen him, as he had done for her time after time. She watched him quietly, her hand still in his. It was only a year and a half more until they were free to do as they liked. Break away from the chains that were their families. It would be a glorious day. But for now, they had this. They had Hogwarts, and they would manage.

The cemetery in Hogsmeade was very quiet. The whole of Hogsmeade was very quiet, in truth. Large funerals tended to have that effect. Witches and Wizards had descended upon the small village as a show of respect to Elphinstone Urquart, who had died from the bite of a Venomous Tentacula. They had also come to show their respects to his widow.

Minerva McGonagall stood there alone, draped head to toe in black. Her hat had begun to droop and yet, she could not move. She stared blankly at the new headstone and the fresh mound of dirt was covered in flowers. For three years, they had been married and it had been some of the happiest years of her life. She found herself regretting that she hadn't taken one of his earlier proposals.

Faces flashed through her mind as she stood there. Dougal McGregor, her first love. Her brother, Robert, had been killed by Death Eaters. James. Lily. Marlene McKinnon. So many of her students had been lost. And friends. But the weight of the entire war still weighed on her shoulders, despite it being four years over. But Phinny. She dared not leave this spot, not yet. The idea of returning to the cottage they shared here in Hogsmeade was too much. His presence was all over it, imprinted there for always. She would go back to Hogwarts. As soon as she could will her feet to move. She didn't want to leave him in the cold wet Earth alone. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. This was ridiculous. She was going to catch her death of cold if she remained here.

A hand suddenly rested on her shoulder, and the rain stopped pouring down on her. Turning her head, she found herself looking up at Albus Dumbledore. He'd been there earlier for the funeral and burial, then had returned to Hogwarts. But he was here now. He didn't have to be. She wasn't an overly emotional woman, preferring to keep herself stoic and composed. But with Albus, she needn't do that. He had known her for most of her life. His eyes met her own and her tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't find her voice. But if she had, she would have simply spoken his name.

"Come," was all he spoke, apparating to the castle, specifically arriving in his private chambers, where he had a small sitting area. A thin brow raised, but this was Dumbledore. Of course, he could apparate here. He had put up the spells to prevent it. Why shouldn't they apply to him? Closing his umbrella, he used his wand to remove their jackets. The fire in the fireplace roared, warming the room and he dried them both off with ease. Minerva allowed this. She had no inclination to do much of anything beyond exist.

"I didn't imagine that you wished to go home this evening," he spoke gently, preparing some tea for them. He knew how she liked it. She felt a whisper of a smile pull across her lips as he drew out a tin of shortbread biscuits. She hadn't much of an appetite, but she nibbled at it.

Sitting down beside her, Albus said nothing. The floor was hers. But Minerva felt weary. Down to the bone tired. She instead leaned her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to cry. It was a quiet way to spend the evening, but one that was needed. She was exhausted. All day, she had thanked people for their kind words. Appreciating that they had travelled to celebrate Phinny's life. He'd had so many friends! People from the Ministry had come in force. Her hand ached from how many she had shaken. Grief was not only emotional but physical. She had comforted his friends and co-workers. Their grief had come before her own. Now that she was facing her own, it seemed horribly overwhelming. The witch felt almost like she might not rise from the spot she was sitting in. What she appreciated was that Albus wasn't forcing her to speak or do anything that she didn't want to do. He was simply there. He had always been there.

And that was a greater magic than any spell she could cast.

Mourning.

Albus Dumbledore walked into Hogwarts looking…old. Behind him walked the trio--Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter, who were surrounded by their friends. It was a sober scene and it set Minerva on edge. She was rarely at a loss for words, and whatever they were discussing, she couldn't overhear. Words were softly whispered, and tears were streaming down their faces. Harry's face was stone. Resting her hand on his shoulder for a moment, she gave him a sympathetic look before following after Albus. She would talk to Harry--and any student who wished to speak--later. Whatever had occurred must have been horrific. She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. However, she kept herself the portrait of calm.

"Albus?" Minerva spoke as she fell in line beside him, taking hold of his arm. The pair had been friends for many years by now. There was an intimacy between them that few understood or appreciated, a trust that had been built over the ups and downs that years brought. They walked together quietly, up the winding stairwell behind the large phoenix statue. As they entered his office, Fawkes let out a cry. "Hush you," Minerva remarked tersely. Normally she would give him a treat, but at the moment, it seemed there was much to discuss. Getting him settled into his chair, Minerva looked to a house elf that appeared. "Will you please bring the Headmaster some tea and something to eat?" she inquired. She'd never felt comfortable ordering them about. The elf snapped, disapparating. Tea always made heavy topics a little more tolerable.

"Minerva," his voice was raspy. Calm, but raspy. Looking at her over his half-moon glasses, his eyes wet from tears that threatened to fall. "I will begin by saying, tomorrow, everyone will know the truth." "What do you mean?" "Voldemort is, indeed, back. However, we have believed Harry when he's spoken of it. So the world will come to see what we have known. Minerva, I'm afraid what I'm about to say will hurt you." "Get on with it then, Albus." "Sirius Black is dead." "What-?" "He was duelling…" "Who did it?" "Bellatrix Lestrange."

The mad bitch had killed her own cousin. Minerva's blood boiled and she silently seethed. She had always been an excellent duellist, as was Sirius. But to kill her own… The world seemed to stop for a few moments. Everything went silent. The only thing she was certain that she could hear was the cracking of her heart. Of every student that she had ever had, Sirius Black had been the one who she had always loved dearly. The son she never had. Her eyes closed for a moment. Albus took hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knew she would not want to be fussed over a lot. But this was his way of acknowledging the deep pain she was feeling.

She recalled the first time she'd met him, as a wide-eyed little boy awaiting his turn to be sorted. She'd called his name out and he'd looked nervous as he sat on the bench. "It's alright," she had reassured him with a warm smile. "Wherever you end up is where you're meant to be." She'd been so delighted when the old wizened hat called out 'Gryffindor!' He had also looked pleased, whilst the Slytherin table had all looked at one another in awe and shock. The Black family was almost exclusively Slytherin. However, there was Sirius, who moved over to the Gryffindor table with a giant smile on his face. She recalled wondering if that was the first time he'd felt any real happiness. She was very familiar with that family and their ways. Narcissa had been one of her favourite students. Her eyes wandered over to her, and her face revealed nothing. But her eyes--dare she think that Narcissa was happy for her cousin?

Through his time at school, despite how dark things were swiftly becoming, seeing him always brought a smile to her lips. She couldn't get mad at him as he warmly winked at her and called her 'Minnie.' The cheeky sod. But for as much trouble as he got into--how many detentions he and James Potter had, she'd lost track--he was a genuinely good young man. Wise. Kind. Smart-alecky. He could rebound an insult almost as quickly as he could a curse. He was a duellist with a wand and words. When he'd confessed to her that he had become an animagi, she had endeavoured to really teach him about it, make him understand it. His form suited him, a big shaggy black dog. It had also saved him in Azkaban.

This wasn't to say he always pleased her--his torment of her now fellow professor, Severus Snape, had always earned him her ire. And when he and James had blown a poor student's head to twice its normal size for 'amusement's sake', she'd given him detention for a month and made him write two parchments length apology to the young man. But overall, he had matured and become an admirable man. When she'd heard he was sent to Azkaban, she hadn't wanted to believe it. Not her Sirius. Privately, she never lost faith in him.

After leaving the Headmaster's office, Minerva moved to her own chamber. Moving to the mantle, she looked at a photograph that had been sitting there for ages. It had been taken in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks. She was mid-laugh with Sirius beside her with a wide grin on his face. James Potter sat to her left also laughing. The picture was even sadder now. She had never anticipated that she would outlive them both. She had known so much loss in her life now. The saddest part was that with this coming war--she would lose more. She had attended many funerals. Written hundreds of condolence letters. She had been the stoic figure in the back of the room, holding back her own tears so she could comfort others.

How many students wouldn't return to school? It was similar to the first war--but this was far more dangerous now. How many of them would sacrifice their lives for the greater good? Minerva's shoulders slumped as her tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. Her hand balled into a fist and she slammed it against the wall, her anguish at the entire situation overwhelming her. Turning from the photograph, she sighed. She hoped he would find the peace that he so desperately deserved. What she wouldn't give to hear him greet her one last time. "Evenin', Minnie! Where's the biscuits?"

But Minerva McGonagall wiped her tears. Tears did nothing. Action would be needed and if she could aid in that somehow, she certainly would.

In private, she would weep. In solitude, she would rage. For her students and Hogwarts, she would be brave. For Sirius and all of those who had died previously, she would fight. And for future generations--she would win.

Traitor.

"I am marrying Ted Tonks." Bellatrix's chocolate-hued eyes landed on her sister and she blinked. For once, words failed her. There was silence in the Black family parlour, where they had been sitting and playing cards. It was a rare pastime that all of them seemed to enjoy. Andromeda may well have dropped a bomb because, for a moment, they had no idea how to respond. Andromeda was always unique. It wasn't a trait appreciated in their household. On more than one occasion, it had been beaten into them. Divergence wasn't appropriate. The most ancient House of Black had their 'ways' and all were expected to follow them. If they did not, there were consequences. In such cases, Cygnus chose violence. Bella had been beaten so much that after a while, she would laugh when he raised his hand. While she did fall in line for the most part, she ensured her parents knew she wasn't always happy about it.

Cygnus raised his decanter of firewhisky whilst Druella closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. Cissy's eyes filled with tears, but beyond that, there was a lack of emotion shown. Inside Bella, turmoil mixed with loathing and betrayal. They would never be the same after today. She clutched her wand and was tempted to send a few blasts at Andromeda's head. Andromeda stood tall, her Black bearing apparent. She had to know that this wasn't going to be well received. The silence lingered and Bella hopped up from her seat, glaring at her sister. "You can't do that!" She spat out, pointing her wand under her sister's chin. Red sparks sputtered from the top and Narcissa gasped. "Expelliarmus!" Andromeda hissed, and Bella's wand flew across the room. Their eyes met and tensions in the room were so thick, the family house-elf could have cut it with a butter knife. "I can, and I will. You cannot stop me. None of you can." "You've got an hour to pack a bag," Cygnus declared in a cold, emotionless voice. Standing up, he looked at Andromeda, his eyes narrowed. Druella simply looked at the smoke rising from her cigarette as if that were the most interesting thing in the world. Bella's eyes narrowed. She could detach from anything--except her social parties where she paraded over everyone about her esteemed pedigree. That she did not defend her daughters was nothing new. "From such point, you are no longer a Black. We do not know you. We will not acknowledge you. If people ask about you, you are as good as dead." "I expected nothing less," Andromeda replied, stepping away from Bella and heading up the winding stairwell to her room. Following her, with hatred etched on her features, Bella simultaneously fought her anger and the burn of tears. Her younger sister was on the unemotional side. She was resigned to it. There was no fire, no fight. There was only acceptance. Bella's jealousy surged. To choose her own marriage would be grand, but it was not allowed. (And if she was honest, she didn't want to get married.) But at least she knew that her marriage would be pure. A muggle-born. Why couldn't Andromeda at least have chosen a pure-blood? Narcissa seemed more torn. Loyal to her family, upset by the events. Bella sniffed. She was a soft touch sometimes, but it wasn't something Bella minded, so long as she did her duties to the family. Andromeda was quiet as she waved her wand, packing her clothes into her suitcase. She took nothing beyond what was her own, nor to state who she was. Or had been. Not a single photograph. Nothing. Bella would scratch her out of every photo later. The only problem was, anytime she looked in the mirror, she would see Andromeda's face. It was a curse she would carry--one that would affect her more than even a Cruciatus curse.

"Blood Traitor!" Bellatrix screeched venomously, following Andromeda as she marched down the stairs. She took notice of their similarities once more. Knowing she would never again set eyes upon the little sister that she had once loved so much. It was like looking at herself if she took this path in life. There was some tiny voice in Bella's mind that kept nagging her to stop with the insults, but her anger was far too volatile to be ignored. Stopping at the front door. Andromeda looked back at Bella, leveling a gaze at her. There was pity in that stare. The older witch scowled and shoved her out the door. Their parents were talking in the parlor, no doubt planning to discuss how to go forward. Bella looked beside her as Cissy took hold of her arm. As much as she wanted to wrench it away, she didn't. Not to Cissy. If there was any softness left in Bella, it was reserved for her baby sister.

"Goodbye, Bella. Cissy. Mother. Father," Andromeda uttered calmly, before turning on her heels and beginning to walk away. Her shoulders were squared as she walked, her head held high. Why did it seem like there was a weight off her shoulders? "If you two ever escape...this. I hope you'll find me."

"Toujours Pur!!" Bellatrix shrieked as Andromeda walked down the long stone pathway from the Black estate. She never would admit it to anyone, but she would miss Andromeda. But it also fuelled her hatred of muggle-borns. Stealing her sister away like this? May they all burn and writhe in the hottest of fires.

Unhinged laughter filled the corridors of Hogwarts, along with blasts from a wand that was far too capable and skilled at the Unforgivable Curses. Dainty feet in heeled shoes danced along the famed hallways, the heavier sounds of boots following behind her. There was no need to hide her face. Everyone knew her and they knew her alliance. They knew she'd done terrible things and she relished in each and every single one. Her years in Azkaban were spoken of as a child might speak of a playground. Her name was spoken with fear and disgust, by some. And with reverence by others.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

"For The Dark Lord!!" She screeched, almost girlish giggles escaping her, a twisted grin settling on her face. Turning in a circle, her black skirt twirling about her legs and her unkempt chocolate stresses bounced with every step. Her dark brown eyes were alight with mischief and the joy of trouble. The idea that she might be scaring children didn't put her off in the least.

Nodding her head, she motioned to the doors of the Great Hall. The Death Eaters charged forward, wands pointed and the large wooden doors burst open, unable to resist the multiple blasts. Charging ahead, the witch recalled for a brief moment, her years at the Slytherin table. Settled in with her sisters, and the other Purebloods. Always a hellion, she had always been proud of being a Black, but didn't feel she quite fit in with them. Narcissa was the perfect daughter. Andromeda was...different. Bellatrix huffed as she thought of the youngest Black sister. Where had the family gone wrong with her? Marrying that mudblood Tonks.

An anguished yell left the deranged witch as she pointed towards a bench and destroyed it, the memory of the sisters being vanquished. She had no need of that. The past was in the past. Cissy was married to Malfoy, whom Bellatrix viewed as weak and pompous, likely to turn on anyone if it would save his own skin. She had never liked his snivilling and fake airs of importance. He was rich and pureblood. But he would never be like those who had come from The Most Noble House of Black.

"Rodolphus!" She sneered, settling her gaze on her husband as he removed his mask, watching the chaos unfold. "Make yourself useful. Find someone for me to play with," she finished, her tone leaving no room for it to be misinterpreted. She wanted to duel, to fight, to kill. If Rodolphus had any objection, he was wise enough to not voice them. Knowing full well that at this point, Bellatrix was wild enough to turn her wand on him as well. With Voldemort at full strength, his goals attainable and in reach, Bella was far too thirsty on power and the possibility of what may lie ahead. Her life was inextricably bound to the Lord formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

All for him. The Dark Lord was everything to Bellatrix. Even her husband knew this. But he also appreciated that her obsessive loyalty was what was keeping them in such high regard. The few occasions that Bellatrix had failed, it had been her obsession and devotion to his cause that had kept her from being killed. Rodolphus turned and focused on the task, knowing he would find staff and students attempting to save their home. Because Hogwarts was not only a school, but a home to them. However he felt about it, he kept to himself. He suspected that Narcissa did the same, but put on an act to keep safe.

"Disgraceful," she snarled, blocking yet another attack, looking through the students for Harry Potter, but also for her nephew, Draco. Despite what many thought, Bellatrix did care very much for the boy, and she knew that if a bit of harm came to him, Narcissa's heartbreak would doom them all. She'd never felt that love of children. But she would surely avenge or maim anyone who hurt dearest Draco. He was a bit like his father, unfortunately, but perhaps there would be hope for him yet. The white blonde hair didn't pop in the crowds and thus, Bellatrix continued to focus on the others. Reminding herself that this was all for him. For The Dark Lord. The thought of him made her heart skip a beat. Perhaps it was madness, but she truly did love him. He did not feel the same for her, but Bellatrix had dedicated her life to him.

Whatever happened today, she hoped that he knew, she did it all for his glory and his power. When he took over--and he simply had to--she would be at his right hand, she knew this. Her place was beside him, to be sure. Turning sharply, Bellatrix's smile twisted upwards as several of her knives landed into the flesh of a few who were determined to be the ones to take her down. Stupid children. Now, they were dead. Skipping towards them, she looked down at them and plucked her knives out of their bodies. Gryffindors. Not surprising. "Idiots," she snarled before looking over the beautiful chaos of it all. Pointing upwards, a spark shot out from her wand. Time seemed to have suddenly stopped as eyes all follow the shot. A moment later, the sky darkened and a large Dark Mark appeared in the sky. Gasps and yells filled the air, along with a renewed need of beating Voldemort's crew. Bellatrix only laughed.

"This is the Dark Lord's time, you stand NO chance!" she squealed, dancing around anew, laughing as the battle raged on.