Chapter 20
Bellatrix Lestrange's Worst Nightmare
Bellatrix Lestrange was no stranger to chaos. It was often a result of her own volatile tendencies or the intricate chaos stirred by the Dark Lord, to whom she had dedicated every fiber of her being. But this? This was beyond anything she could have conjured up in her wildest, most deranged imaginings.
Sitting in bed, her hair a wild mess, mascara smeared across her pale cheeks, Bellatrix looked at her husband, Rodolphus, slack-jawed. The morning sun bathed their lavish room in garish light, as if mocking her disbelief. What was he even saying? That her “dream” about Lord Voldemort’s death, Rabastan’s marriage to a Muggle, and drinking merrily with said Muggle… wasn’t a dream?
Her manic cackle cracked through the quiet morning. “Surely, you jest, Rudi dearest! A Lestrange marrying a Muggle? Lord Voldemort dead without so much as a glorious duel or backstabbing coup? Preposterous!”
Rodolphus, looking uncharacteristically tired, handed the Daily Prophet to her without a word. The blaring black-and-white headline made her blood freeze.
"CHAOS IN MAGICAL BRITAIN! MINISTER ATTACKED BY THE MUGGLE BRIDE OF RABASTAN LESTRANGE!"
A moving picture of Cornelius Fudge cowering under a bloody knife clutched by a wild-eyed woman was plastered beneath the headline. The woman, her nose sharp and her hair distinctively Muggle-like, was unmistakably the creature from Bellatrix’s “dream.” Petunia Evans. Her new sister-in-law.
Bellatrix stared at the paper. Then at her silent husband. Then back at the paper.
Her lips twitched. Her body shuddered. And then—
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The roar of anguish shook the very foundation of Lestrange Manor, sending the family house-elves scurrying under furniture. Reinhard Lestrange, the patriarch of the Lestrange family, who was enjoying his tea in the garden, didn’t even flinch. He merely turned the page of his paper and sighed. “Ah, there she is. Always the dramatic one.”
Back in the bedroom, Bellatrix had leapt from the bed like a woman possessed, her long black nightdress billowing around her. She slammed her head against the wall in frustration, chanting, “How could this happen? HOW?!” each time her skull met the ornate wallpaper.
“Stop that, Bella, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Rodolphus exclaimed, trying to grab her shoulders.
“GOOD!” she screeched, snatching her wand off the nightstand. “Better I die in shame here than live with the knowledge that I’ve become… a TRAITOR!”
“Traitor? Darling, no one’s called you a—”
Bellatrix spun on her heel, her eyes blazing, and jabbed the Daily Prophet towards his chest. “Do you think they’ll respect me now? ME! Bellatrix Lestrange, the most loyal of the Dark Lord’s followers? They’ll call me weak. A blood traitor. A FOOL!”
Rodolphus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Bella, perhaps we’re overreact—”
“I’LL KILL HER.”
“What?” His jaw dropped as his wife stormed towards the door. He barely managed to block her path, throwing his arms out wide. “What are you doing?!”
“I’ll—find that sniveling Muggle and END her!” Bellatrix spat, wild with rage. “I’ll mount her head on a pike outside Diagon Alley. I’ll let the world see that NO ONE disrespects the House of Lestrange!”
“Bella, for Merlin’s sake!” he hissed, grappling with her arms to stop her from storming off. “You can’t kill her! Rab is—dare I say it—fond of her! Do you really think he’ll sit by and let you slaughter his wife?”
“HIS WIFE! HIS MUGGUL FILTH!” Her furious roars echoed down the hall
Meanwhile, in the garden of Lestrange Manor, their father, Reinhard Lestrange, sat sipping his morning tea with an amused smirk on his face. The dulcet tones of Bellatrix's furious screeching drifted through the windows. He chuckled to himself. "Ah, our darling Bella never fails to provide entertainment," he muttered, turning the page of his paper.
just like lightning Bellatrix used shadow traveling to appear in front of her father-in-law.He took one look at Bellatrix's fuming expression and gave her an affable nod.
"Ah, Bella," he said mildly. "I see you've read the morning paper."
"YOUR SON HAS MARRIED A MUGGLE, FATHER!" Bellatrix exploded. "What are you planning to do about it? Tell me you have a plan! Exile him! Disinherit him! Or just let me—and I suggest this in all modesty—kill her myself and rid us of this disgrace. I'll even make it quick! Relatively." She twirled her wand, her tone turning sickeningly sweet.
Reinhard blinked at her lazily and took a long sip of tea. "I rather like her, actually," he said. "She has... spunk. Have you seen the headlines? She's causing quite the stir in the Ministry." He chuckled to himself. "Cornelius Fudge that’s spineless fool looks positively terrified."
Bellatrix gaped at him. "Spunk? SPUNK? Father , we're talking about generations of pure blood, unblemished! You want to let that woman tarnish it all because she… has spunk?!"
"Well," said Reinhard, glancing toward the window, "she's certainly gotten a better reaction out of the Ministry than most of the rabble we’ve sent them in the past. Besides, it's not every day we get a Muggle who's bold enough to take on a Minister of Magic. We should appreciate the novelty."
Bellatrix let out an ear-piercing screech of frustration and stormed out of the garden and back to the Manor to find the newlywed couple. Reinhard sighed contentedly and took another sip of his tea. "Ah, mornings at the Lestrange Manor. Never a dull moment."