Most Faithful

Most Faithful: Chapter One

Before you get too attached to me, there's something you should know. I'm not your stereotypical main character, to some little fairy tale that you read. I'm not the hero that tries to save the world, or parades openly against the forces of evil, with the help of my pathetic friends and family standing by my side, telling me how great I am. I'm not going to tell you nice things. You aren't going to hear about fluffy love.

I'm quite the contrary of good, actually. To make a vast understatement: I am evil. So this means you aren't going to hear tales of good, my friend. You are going to hear of darkest evil, as I take you into the depths of life on the Dark Side. The heroes get so much credit for trying to fight against us. They say good will always prevail over evil. Well, those who utter such words have not met me yet. Even my name suggests darkness.

Black. Bellatrix Black is my name, and I'd like you to memorize it. One day you may be screaming it in your sleep, or screaming it as you die. Remember that my name is Black, as you fade into the darkness, and death engulfs your body and soul, pulling you down to hell. Remember that it was a Black that sent you there. The noble and most ancient house of Black has sent you to your grave.

Doesn't that have a nice ring to it? I deligting them rather, so that when the day comes that I look my cousin Sirius in the eye with my wand pointed at his heart, I can see this without mercy. Sirius is a traitor, a disgrace to the family of Black. He does not deserve life. Him and that Potter disgrace; they both need to be taken to the grave.

But I shall not go off into a malicious rant about the numerous ways I could bring death upon that pair; there are many people I would like to see meet their violent end soon. But I am not allowed to do that, not yet. I am a faithful servant of the Dark Lord, and as I am only sixteen mere years of age, I am not permitted to do anything that would draw immediate attention to myself if Lord Voldemort wants me to be of use in the future.

My desperate heart yearns to leave school behind me, to flee the place where Albus Dumbledore lets mudbloods make filthy the halls, and promotes justice and dignity in all he does. He infiltrates the filthy even more, working to destroy what Lord Voldemort is secretly trying to build upon. He knows something big is about to happen; he can foresee the massacres that will come. But to any sensible person, this should be bleeding with obviousness, staining the pool of clear water, the way the mudbloods contaminate our river of freshwater.

It brings a smile to my face to think of how Dumbledore will try and put a stop to all of the coming terror. He, and several others who have been deemed crazy, are trying to ready the world for us. But no one can prepare them for Voldemort. My Lord Is powerful and great. There will be nothing that will stop him from gaining his power and his followers. Those who oppose him will be slaughtered mercilessly.

Though I do not have a Dark Mark burning into my arm, I consider myself his most avid supporter. I am undoubtedly jealous of the glory that comes into the skin and blood of his followers as he burns into their arm a mark. His mark. They all flinch because of the around as if they had foregone a brain and nearly perilous act.

I will keep a straight face and receive my mark without wincing. I will not pretend I am brave and heroic. I will keep my loyalty within the boundaries of Lord Voldemort, not giving into the temptation to praise myself, and love myself more than I love him. I will be strong for him, even if it means I must die, or worse yet: rot in Azkaban. But I will do it for him. He will know where my loyalties lie.

For I am Bellatrix Black. I will not falter. I will not betray him.

~*~

I pushed a strand of dark hair behind my ears as I contorted my face with concentration, watching the dead body of the small black cat sitting in the middle of the well-kept lawn in my back yard. The grass was a pallid, livid green color that was most unnatural, giving the aura of being grass in a cemetery: creepy.

The cat had been dead for a few weeks or so. I had killed it myself, for an experiment. As a sixteen-year-old, I was not supposed to know the curse that sucks life out of a being, and I'm quite sure that no one is actually meant to know it, but if you can focus your hate and malicious thoughts all upon thing, then say the blessed words, killing is not a difficult task. But you have to be gifted with knowledge of the Dark Arts, and willing to take another life. I was a perfect candidate.

The stinking odors coming from the cat's carcass was infiltrating the clean air around me, nearly making me wretch. Flies and their larvae were clinging to the rotten meat of the animal, using it as a breeding ground and source of food. The cat's eyes were starting to liquidize already, turning into a pasty, glazed white sort of concoction that even I dared not touch. The black fur was starting to get matted.

All the better, for what I was planning.

I extended my long, strong hands over the carcass, and closed my eyes. Imm all my senses. I could smell the rotting of the dead flesh in the air, and hear the last moans and death cries as the dead longed to go back to their rightful places on planet earth. I could see their rotting corpses and feel the cold and clammy skin brushing up against my warmth. I could taste the putrid taste that kept filling my mouth as I opened it for a breath of air.

I had wandered into the land of Death. Death had not yet cast its shadow upon me, and I was not afraid of it. But I needed to remain kicking to properly serve Lord Voldemort. He needs us all. The sights, smells, sounds, feelings, and tastes of death were wonderful, though morbid they were, it was what I had truly loved most. If I had not been bound to serve Lord Voldemort, I would have remained forever in the land of death.

Something brushed up against my ankles, hissing and spitting like the world was coming to an end. I looked down at my feet and saw a cat. A black cat with glazed eyes, matted fur, and flies, maggots, and larvae inhabiting its putrid flesh. This was what I had come for, and I might as well have taken it then and there and have finished my mission. But as a Black, my curiosity was running away with me, and I had to have a look at the dead human beings, who groped for me, occasionally making contact with my skin. It sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

Taking in my final breath of death, I wrapped my hands around the soul of the diminishing cat, feeling its insides squish as my hands encased it. I closed my spiritual eyes, and willing my physical ones open. I was again looking out at my backyard, seeing the serpentine statuettes of snakes spitting water into fountains, as a black whirl of smoke hovered near me.

A raspy noise at my feet indicated that the cat was stirring. No change in its appearance had come about, which was exactly what I had intended. The cat was now a member of those dead among the living, a slave to my will, do sere best of its abilities. It was after all, just a cat.

"Find Narcissa," I said to it, enjoying the way my voice was low and somewhat raspy, not at all innocent sounding. It had a definitely dark touch to it, just the way I liked it. The cat trotted off dismally, leaving pieces of itself behind as it left me. Even in the summer I donned black garb, but the heat would not bother me. I had always used charms to repel heat when I wanted to, even in the summer, when magic was supposedly forbidden.

"Don't be silly, Bella!" Mother had always said to me. "You needn't mind that nonsense! You're a Black, and therefore are above the law. Use all the magic you please, child, and keep peacefully in mind that we are friends of the Ministry; they will not take your wand away!"

And what mother had told me that summer I turned seven was true. The Ministry of Magic had yet to even send me a warning for using magic in the summer. And worse yet, Dark Magic. But being seemingly above the feeble group of wizards that call themselves the government, their minds can easily be swayed, with a charitable contribution of the great sort. It was great to have money.

"What are you up to, Bella?" Came a smooth voice from behind. Instead of my sister, Narcissa, I had turned calmly to face none other than Sirius Black, my least favorite relative. I crossed my arms and glared t him, watching. He was leaning against the wall of my house, with his arms crossed, and one foot crossed over the other with his toe on the ground.

Though I never would have dreamed I would admit it to myself, at that moment, I found something incredibly attractive in my abhorrent cousin. His dark hair fell neatly atop his head, and his dark eyes shone with all they had, like freshly polished wood. His face was not as thin as mine, but chiseled perfectly to match his body and eyes. A cordial smile lit his features, making the shard of evil that I prized in people.

Part of me wished I were not related to Sirius at that moment. I wished that he were a dark stranger showing up at my doorstep to seduce me, and whisk me away with him to join the Dark Lord and faithfully follow him. The part of me wishing this was rattling around in my heart, banging against my chest to get out.

The sensible, correct part of me, which did not believe in incest, kept telling me that I hated him. I hated the way that he grinned at me, without a trace of evil, but of humor and amiability. I hated the way he did not support the Dark Lord, and how he had started fraternizing with mudbloods, and the way he deserted the house of Black. I hated the way he ran away from home last year to live with that wretched Potter kid, and I hated the way he hated me.

The sensible side of me won out by far, bleaching out all thoughts of seeing Sirius as attractive. I hated him so much that he was no better looking than the living dead cat.

"What business is it of yours?" I snapped maliciously, throwing a sheet of dark hair venomously behind my shoulders, as I slid my hands into my pocket where my wand was concealed. "And by what foul reason have I had the misfortune of speaking to you?" I added, throwing my nose in the air.

"I'm looking for your sister." He said simply, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Unless you wish to see Narcissa, I have no other sister," I retorted. A fury rose inside me, thinking of the sister that had also betrayed the family, as Sirius had done. "If I correctly assume who you wish to speak to, you should perhaps try visiting a Muggle by the name of Tonks. You will find the traitor has married him. She betrayed the family name, and wrought shame upon us all, as you have, Sirius!" I spat. "Now get out before I hex you."

Heaving a sigh, Siriuommand, oh favorite cousin of mine," he said, with a mock bow, in the voice of a house elf. He stood up straight, saluted me in another mocking fashion, and before I could draw my wand to hex him, he disappeared into the thin summer air. He had turned seventeen already, and could legally apparate. Not that the law mattered, anyway.

"What do you want, Bella?" Came another voice, this one cold and drawling. My younger sister, Narcissa was standing but a meter away, with my dead servant at her feet, pacing back and forth. I could not have looked less like Narcissa, and the strange thing was that we were sisters.

Her hair was long and blonde, shining in the sunlight, catching all the light and causing her to look as if she were glowing. Her eyes were a light slate-blue color, unlike my dark ones. Her face was more pointed than mine was, as if someone had hurriedly chiseled out her features, rather than taking their time, leaving points here and there. This left her with the look of a-what do you call them? Supermodel. Her cheekbones were much higher than mine, and she looked slightly malnourished.

"Just wanted to show you my newest minion," I snapped at her, as if she were stupid. "Raising the dead. He's been dead for a few weeks, I think now."

"Oh, impressive," Narcissa droned. "Anyone can kill a cat and bring it back," she said to me. "But I'd like to see you try it to a human being."

I took that as a challenge. Narcissa didn't know what had hit her.