A shrill laugh escaped her throat as she duelled with Potter's bitch, a Weasley nobody, and a blonde who vaguely reminded her of someone. Spell after spell, their wands quivered - hers, or rather the spare one she'd been using since that Mudblood stole her wand, was trembling, but she'd managed to slaughter plenty of people with it already, and now wouldn't be the exception.
She had to admit, the three brats were rather skilled for their age, but she had the situation under control. She, one of the greatest witches of the age, the Dark Lord's right hand and lover, couldn't afford to lose. She wouldn't lose, not to three teenagers.
It would be stupid.
Humiliating.
Degrading.
She couldn't accept it.
Laughing again, with a wicked smirk on her face, she cast another perfect Cruciatus Curse, just the way she loved to cast them, though it ricocheted off the nearby wall after the worthless Mudblood managed to dodge it by a hair's breadth.
"How dare you..." she whispered, more to herself.
But she, Bellatrix Lestrange, was a deranged woman, and she knew it. She also knew that the more her prey resisted, the more entertaining it became, and the stronger grew her desire to torture them, abuse them, hear them scream in agony and beg for mercy.
She watched the group of girls, all casting spells at her simultaneously, dodging them effortlessly. She cackled again.
"Such insolence!" she said, before casting another spell.
A green jet shot from her wand, missing little Weasley by mere inches.
She was about to cast another spell when, amid the chaos of battle already raging in the Great Hall that had once housed seven years of her teenage memories, she heard someone shout.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH! OUT OF MY WAY !"
Her three opponents withdrew at once, revealing a short woman with red hair and murderous eyes.
A quick glance and a mocking smile towards her former opponents signalled that the break wouldn't last, and she'd finish them off as soon as she dealt with the fat hen before her. Then, she turned to face the woman in question, a shrill laugh shaking her throat.
"Oh! Mummy Weasley, how touching!"
Ignoring her comment, the woman engaged in the duel without preamble, mixing defensive and offensive spells with impressive dexterity.
For the first time in years, Bellatrix felt uneasy during combat.
She'd had countless opponents, she'd even fought the best Death Eaters, always winning and climbing the ranks, becoming one of the most powerful witches in her master's eyes.
How could a common housewife, a blood traitor, a mindless fool, throw her off balance?
Another spell from her opponent hit the floor at her feet, leaving a gaping hole in the floorboards, and her mocking smile vanished. Molly Weasley had managed to cast an Avada, which didn't bode well.
You don't successfully cast an Avada unless you're determined to kill.
And this bitch was determined to kill her.
She retaliated, casting Cruciatus after Cruciatus, Avada after Avada, then Expelliarmus to disarm her and regain the upper hand. Her fighting style became more hysterical than it already was, more chaotic, less coordinated, betraying her growing stress and the disadvantage she was beginning to feel against her opponent.
Yet this was just a common, poor little woman, and she dared to challenge the great Bellatrix Lestrange, a descendant of the noble and most ancient house of Black and right hand to the most powerful man on the planet.
Her man, her master.
A sideways glance confirmed the greatness of the man she worshipped; he was fighting three of the enemy's most powerful wizards and looked completely at ease.
After all, he was the great Dark Lord, a god descended to earth, Her God.
Refocusing on the fight, she regained her composure. She couldn't leave Lord Voldemort behind; she had to be there when he defeated little Potter and became invincible, immortal. Perhaps he would keep her by his side forever...
At this thought, she let out another shrill laugh, enough to freeze the blood of anyone within earshot. She dodged more spells cast by the blood traitor and retaliated with far more aggressive ones. Her thirst to kill, to torture, to see severed limbs and blood gushing was far greater than the panic that had gripped her seconds ago.
Some of the watching students tried to help, seeing the advantage she was beginning to gain in the fight.
"No! Get back! GET BACK! She's mine!" said the Weasley matriarch.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you (she said, cackling), when Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"
Her opponent's face darkened further, her blue eyes flashing more dangerously than her wand, as she fired off spells between each word she screamed hysterically:
"YOU... WILL... NEVER... TOUCH... OUR... CHILDREN... AGAIN!"
Bellatrix was still laughing when she felt Molly's green spell hit her squarely in the chest.
What the...
"No! no! no! I can't die, I must stay, I must fight alongside my master!"
Though she screamed these words, no sound came from her mouth, which remained frozen in the hysterical laugh she'd worn before the other bitch's curse struck her.
Her wide eyes stared unseeingly at the scene - a red-faced and breathless Molly looking at her triumphantly, victory roars erupting throughout the Great Hall, and Voldemort's horrified scream as he saw her fall.
"Master, I have failed, I am not worthy to serve you..."
And before losing consciousness completely and slipping into the abyss of nothingness, she swore that if she ever had a second chance to go back and meet this bitch who had prevented her from staying by her master's side, she would have her revenge in the worst possible way.
And then, at that precise moment, as if to seal her promise, everything around her turned black.