Who: Bellatrix What: Reflections on Voldemort and Regulus and her family and then she finds her wand. When: today Where: Her home Status: Complete Rating: R for implied animal cruelty and brief mentions of abuse/molestation.
Regulus. Damn him. Damn him for finding what looked like their family home. Damn him for stirring something inside of her that had made her want to confess. As if she were guilty of a crime! Or at least that particular crime. She paced through her home, upending furniture and trashing art in a right temper tantrum. She's protected her sisters, even Caprica. Sacrificed her body and her mind so they wouldn't have to go through that. Did they know? Of course not. Did they suspect? She never asked and she'd become estranged from Andromeda and tended to not speak to Cissy all that often any more either.
It made her feel isolated. Perhaps that was it. Regulus had made her feel like she wasn't isolated. Even if he'd turned his back on his family he'd at least done it in a way that could be worked around. She could look the other way, unlike Sirius.
It had felt good to tell someone about Voldemort. She hadn't mentioned the L-word. That she'd loved him there. That she'd loved him here. He was locked away for his crimes. For the cult he'd ensnared her in when she was younger and stupid. Her parents had eventually gotten her out, and she'd testified against him.
But now..now that she knew who he was, she felt guilty. Part of her wanted to take it all back, get him set free...She'd defended and loved him so vigorously there that she felt like a horrible person here. He was just doing what he was meant for, wasn't that all it was?
That woman..Bellatrix wasn't sure if she wanted to be her. There was power, but with that power was also suffering, and madness. Would it be worth it, to extract a pound or six of flesh from her father? To lose herself completely? She was already lost.
Upending an expensive vase, something tumbled out of it. It was walnut wood, twelve and three quarters inches in length, and it called to her. Squealing in delight, she picked it up and flicked her wrist. Light illuminated the room at her silent spell and she bounced around on both feet for several minutes until she calmed down.
She flicked it some more, and frowned. It was like trying to send a command through a fog. She spoke spells aloud and it was almost as difficult. Jinxes, healing spells, it didn't matter. They were weak, useless. Her Kedavra was a burst of green fog that probably would have just tickled. Bellatrix shrieked, tipping over a bookcase in her frustration.
Panting for air, she found her corset too constricting and unlaced it until she could breathe again. There was no way she could torture her father, or anyone else, like this. She could barely make light.
No matter. She just needed to practice. That was it. The neighbor had this annoying yappy dog. Lets see if it still dug up her flowers after a good long crucio practice session.