Chapter 1
Rain poured torentially over the streets of muggle london, the busy streets making the dark witch's face curl with disgust at the vermin scurrying around her. Half covering her face with her large hood, she walked briskly towards the alleyway entrance into diagon alley desperately trying to avoid touching any muggles as she pushed herself between the building and the wall. She was in a rush, she knew she should hurry but as fate would have it she glanced around at the streets behind once more, eyes catching on a small girl in her mothers arms - large amber eyes taking in the scene around her with childish wonder. A dreadful sense of recognition passed through the dark witch as she stared at the girl, she'd know that type of magic anywhere. Odd though, that it would show up when the girl was so young. She fought down the revulsion she felt at being connected to this mudblood brat, it was a problem for the future, if she survived she'd find her and kill her. It was inconvenient that she couldn't just do it now, get it over with and suffer the consequences that would no doubt come along with it, but she couldn't risk drawing attention to herself, especially not now. The child's eyes locked onto hers and as they did the child smiled at her, stretching out her small hand in a wave that Bellatrix mimicked, a mocking grin playing around her lips. She saw the child about to say something and she shook her head, putting a finger to her own lips to silence the girl before she drew attention to her, and then slid round the corner out of sight and into diagon alley.
She couldn't work out exactly what it was, but something like recognition dawned on her as she looked down at the image printed in the daily prophet laid out in front of her. Terrified and frantic mutterings filled the hall around her, and she thought she heard a shocked gasp come from where neville was sat a few seats down from her but she blocked it all out, desperately trying to place the feeling she had that she had seen the woman before. Rationally, she knew that she couldn't have ever met her, she'd been locked up for years - since she herself had been just 2 years old and not even aware of the magical world yet. A picture then, perhaps, before this one? Still that didn't seem right either, she seemed too familiar to be only recognised from a picture she'd seen in passing.
She was pulled out of her musings by Ron, eloquent as ever, muttering "Bloody hell, a mass breakout?! this has to be you know who's doing, right mate?" and nudging harry in the ribs. Her best friend just gave a distracted nod, looking grave in a way that should have been unnatural for a 15 year old boy but that she was all too used to seeing on him. "Merlin, it's mental isn't it?" he said, turning his attention to her but she was too distracted by the image, too disturbed by the haunted look on her friend's face too give anything more than a noncommittal mhm in response.
The woman, it turned out, was Bellatrix Lestrange. Mad cousin of Sirius' and Voldemort's most loyal supporter, allegedly. She supposed she must have just remembered her face from the tapestry hanging at grimmauld place now she thought of it, but she still couldn't help the small doubt that told her that wasn't what it was. Nor could she stop the unfortunate feeling of needing to know more about her. She'd always been an inquisitive person, ever since she was a baby but this felt different somehow. She knew the woman was evil, that much was evident from her sentence to Azkaban and her devoted support of the man who had made it his mission to try to kill one of her best friends, but she still couldn't help but be intrigued. She also couldn't help but silently notice how astonishingly beautiful the woman must have been before her time in Azkaban, but kept this to herself as she felt guilty even thinking such a thing about someone so awful.
The guilt only grew tenfold at Christmas, after finding out that the two people Bellatrix had been imprisoned for torturing into insanity were Nevilles parents. She couldn't imagine the horror her friend must have felt upon realising the woman was on the loose, and she vowed to put a stop to her newfound obsession with the woman.
She found that she was mostly successful, until months later when it was decided that they would be travelling to the ministry to rescue Sirius from Voldemort and she felt a jolt of excitement at the prospect that Bellatrix would be there. She felt repulsed at herself for even feeling this, and tried desperately to tell herself that it was just the thrill of a mystery solved - that if she could just see the woman then the obsession would disappear and would be replaced by the hatred she knew she should feel towards the person who had caused so much pain to someone she loved.
She had a terrible feeling that this was all going to be some sort of trap, and that feeling only intensified as she followed harry and the others through the hall of prophecies, wand raised and a feeling of dread settling in the pit of her stomach as she heard the sneering voice of Lucius Malfoy echo around the hall.
She had always prided herself on her ability to remain level headed, but a sense of panic overtook her as she took in the reality that she had been right all along and that they had indeed been led into a trap. She mentally cursed Harry's Gryffindor boldness, wishing that for once logic had won out with him as she took in the reality that at any moment they could well come face to face with you know who himself. The panic was short lived however, as Hermione looked up and saw emerging from the darkness, the figure that had been haunting her every waking moment since she had seen that damned image in the prophet. A loud cackle echoed around the hall and a swooping sensation fell through Hermione's stomach, and suddenly broken images flashed through her mind of a rainy afternoon in London with her parents, a cloaked figure across the street smirking at her before disappearing around a corner.
She gasped as a mocking voice called out "My, my, haven't you grown?"