The Visit

A week had passed since the battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort had thought it was to be the last battle and that it would end with his victory. He couldn't have been more wrong.

He was currently in hiding along with some of his faithful Death Eaters that had escaped. But he had lost her. The moment of her death was played over and over again in his mind. The expression of her face as life was taken from her would haunt him forever. And the rage... He didn't think himself capable of feeling such rage over someone like her. After all why should gods care about mere mortals?

This woman was now constantly on his mind which was strange since he had not paid much attention to her when she had been alive. Another thing that was beyond his comprehension was the reason why he was now standing on the doorstep of an old and wretched house polyjuiced as a Muggle so as to not shock the old woman living there. He knocked.

After a while (he was getting rather impatient) a tall, grey haired woman of almost 70 opened the door. The resemblance was indeed striking. Her grey hair had surely once been black and her thin figure could easily be an older version of Bellatrix's.

She didn't say anything, but just looked at him waiting for him to speak and state his business.

"I am a friend of your daughter's. Can I come in?" he asked coldly.

She let him in without a word. The drawing room was over decorated and she wasn't a very tidy woman. One of the two green armchairs was buried under a pile of robes. The shelves were covered by candles, black and white photos, but mostly dust.

She wasn't used to visitors. They both remained standing.

"Why are you here?" she eventually asked in a slightly patronizing voice. Voldemort did not appreciate being talked to like that nor was he used to it, but continued nonetheless in a polite manner.

"I'm here to talk to you about your daughter."

"Which one?"

"Bellatrix."

"Ah," was all she said. Then she sat down on the sofa and gestured towards the pile-free armchair.

"I don't where she is," Druella said lighting a cigarette.

"I'm not interested in her whereabouts," said Voldemort even though it bothered him that he didn't know where Bella's body was.

"Then what are you interested in?" the old woman asked impatiently.

"Her. I would like to know more about her upbringing, for example."

She laid back and crossed her legs, looking pleased.

"Then I should tell you all about it."

She put out her cigarette and began.

"As I am sure you know she comes from a very noble family. My husband and I were really happy when she was born, purebloods are encouraged to reproduce. But don't think for a second she wasn't loved. Oh, her father adored her. He indulged her every whim and it was obvious she was his favourite child. Daddy's girl," she spat with a laugh.

"My husband was very ill; he had been so almost his entire life. I was furious with my mother for making me marry a withered old man in the body of a young one. So I certainly refused to waste my youth taking care of him when he got worse. Bella was then ten and she took the chore upon herself. Not that it helped much. He died when she was eleven. Oh, the tragedy! She was more upset than the other two. She loved him. And she hated me."

Druella was quite enjoying having an audience for this tale of woe and looked at her visitor waiting for a reply but Voldemort said nothing and she proceeded.

"After that it was the usual. She went to Hogwarts and got top grades in every subject. To her sisters' disappointment she only came home during spring breaks. I think it was because she was avoiding me. You see, I was never modest and I'm not going to start being that way now. I was a beauty when I was young. After Cygnus's death I became... available and men wanted me. The girls didn't like that at all and Bellatrix could go as far as to call me a... well you know, not something you say in decent society. I would get angry and hurt her."

"She and Andromeda were very close. Narcissa was often left out. I don't know why. Such a lovely child, my favourite. She still visits me sometimes. Now, Andromeda married a mudblood but Bellatrix wasn't much better either. Proud and haughty, she always thought she was special even though I constantly assured that it wasn't the case. She was very beautiful though, looked a bit like me and I advised her to use her looks to her advantage but she wouldn't. A woman who put no value in beauty, can you imagine that?"

He could. The information didn't surprise him and it certainly explained Bellatrix's fondness for him despite his beastly appearance.

"There was a war going on then," Druella continued. "A noble wizard was trying to rid the world of Mudbloods. Bellatrix was always talking about him with admiration and telling us that she will someday join his ranks, that she would be "where the action is" as she put it."

Voldemort smiled.

"I of course, tried to dissuade and told her that this was a most improper thing for a lady and that she wasn't powerful enough to pull it off anyway. She got very angry. Oh, she looked terrifying. The things she spat at me I will not repeat. Needless to say she left home at 18 and I have not seen her since. I heard all sorts of rumours about her but I didn't believe them. The thought that people feared her was laughable to me."

She laughed. Voldemort didn't.

"The rumours were true," he said. "Your daughter was a great witch, you should be proud."

She raised her eyebrows. "Was?"

Voldemort decided to tell her, wondering what reaction the news would produce.

"She is dead, I'm afraid. She was killed a week ago."

"I see," she said after a while without emotion.

"But I shall revenge her!" he said staring at her.

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," she said indifferently.

He got up, and spat angrily. "Have you not understood me? Your daughter is dead, is that all you have to say?"

She was amused at his outburst and not at all as scared as he had hoped.

"My dear sir, I have no love for her. She refused to accept it a long time ago, when I offered it."

"I think you never offered it."

He walked about irritated refusing to look at her. This was better than a sentimental weeping mother but I hadn't quite met his expectations either. He was now near the bookshelves. A picture had caught his attention. He picked it up. Three girls were smiling at him. A blond, a brown haired and a brunette. She couldn't have been more than 16 when it was taken. She was laughing happily with her arms around her sisters. He could almost hear her laugh.

"I am the noble wizard you mentioned," he said in a grave voice."It was me your daughter joined. She was my student, my follower, my..." He stopped. "She was brave, cunning and loyal. I could not have asked for a better servant. And now she's gone."

She wasn't very touched by his speech but made an effort to appear that way and said:

"I'm sure she would have been very happy to know you miss her."

He put the picture down and let himself out without another word. The chilly air of the evening helped to calm down his emotions. There were so many things about her he hadn't known, he hadn't bothered to find out. What he hoped to be a closure had been nothing more than a re-opening of wounds which hadn't quite healed anyway.

He had envied her so much. For her pure blood, for her noble inheritance. Never would he have thought that her legacy was nothing more than a legacy of pain and troubled family relationships. Despite the emotional turmoil he was now going through (because for him having one emotion was having one too many) he was glad he had paid this visit. It made him feel closer to her, something he had never wanted before. She was nothing more than a memory now, but one that would be treasured forever.