Moonlight

A heavy storm pounded on the wooden roof of a manor in the middle of the forest. The wind howled in irregular patterns of rhythm as it passed through the nearby trees. The house was built in ebony, and no light was visible from the outside, making the entire picture a mixture of dark shades.

The sound of the pouring rain and occasional thunder dominated the environment, rendering any other sound around powerless. But inside the house, the sound was completely different. Graciously performed by skilled hands, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the corridors of the old and dark Lestrange Manor.

After the arrest of its owners, Lestrange Manor and its contents were auctioned and sold to antique collector Frank Danvers for half of its price. Danvers had lived there ever since, later married and had two sons. A couple of years ago, when the news was spread about the Lestranges and other Death Eaters escaping Azkaban, Danvers made the decision of reinforcing the wards around the house.

Sadly, they proved ineffective.

Following the sound of the music, on the floor of the Main Hall were the corpses of Danvers and his wife; no visible scarring, and no blood anywhere on sight-just the reflection of intense fear on their faces. In the upper landing, their two children were lying motionless on their beds. After all, she had never liked visitors, much less those she didn’t personally invite… even less, Half-Bloods.

Back inside the Main Hall, she had put a glass of wine, a bouquet of black roses, and her wand on the piano. She played with her eyes closed, for she knew the piece by heart. She had been victim of some attacks over the years, from those who allege that Beethoven was a Muggle. But she knew they are wrong: a man without magic couldn’t have written such music.

Music… that’s the only time she allowed herself to be relaxed. When she played her piano, which she hadn’t done in so many years, she momentarily let her defences down, she let her spirit soar. For a few moments, the tranquillity depicted on her face briefly reveals the beauty that had been ravaged by Azkaban.

Thanks to Beethoven, even if it was for a few seconds, Bellatrix Lestrange was like any other human being on the world.

But it doesn’t last.

Her cleared mind soon began to dwell on darkness again, as she recalled her past experiences. It was beyond her: how was it possible that a bunch of kids had interfered with her business and managed to get out with their lives?

Last time, they almost got her killed, when the Dark Lord, in his rage, ended the life of everyone not fast enough to leave the room once he found out the cup had been stolen… from her vault. It was simply impossible… how could three kids, a Half-Blood, a Blood Traitor, and… a Mudblood mock ancient protection measures, devised by Purebloods, pass through them, get the cup, and fly away riding one of the very guardians of the depths? It simply made no sense.

But that wasn’t the first time those abominations to the Blood had gotten away with their lives at her expense.

A couple of years ago, when they had first met in the Department of Mysteries; they had won. Or at least, had made sure to be troublesome enough to keep her and her companions from reaching their goal, and what was worse: they conjured the Dark Lord’s wrath upon her and her fellow Death Eaters. The anger that memory brought almost made her lose the rhythm.

Yes, that would have been fun time if things hadn’t got out of hand. Longbottom was there, also another Weasley, and that other Pureblood blonde… who, by now, was a proven Blood Traitor. How sad… Wizarding society is going down the gutter, there are more Half-Bloods and Mudbloods every day, and if that wasn’t enough, all the Purebloods are becoming Blood Traitors.

At least, that night, she had taken out her frustrations on her deranged cousin, Sirius. Another traitor.

Yes, how dreadful that night had been. But not more than the second time she encountered Potter and his two friends. There was no worse failure than losing what you’d grasped in your hand already… because she had had them. She had had Potter and the ginger Blood Traitor locked in a cell.

And she had had the Mudblood in her hands; she had tortured her, enjoyed her panicked screams… and she had lost her. Somehow, Pettigrew had ended up dead, and all the prisoners had escaped just before the Dark Lord arrived.

And that brat had driven her mad with his screams. Why did he care about the Mudblood so much anyway? It is not like Mudbloods are that imp-

Bellatrix, you fool!

The music stopped, her eyes shot open and she remained frozen in place, staring at emptiness for several minutes.

For months she had been trying to figure a weakness in the team of teenagers that, so far and against all odds, had come out with victories, in certain ways at least, against her and her fellow Death Eaters. For so long she had searched for a weak link, for a spot to strike; and it had been in front of her this whole time. She had not been able to see it because she had never tried to understand them. She had analysed everything from her perspective the whole time, and that had been her mistake.

How many times had she been told to get into the mind of her enemies, to understand them, to decipher them, to find out how to beat them? It was just that the idea of a Pureblood being in love with a Mudblood was… abhorrent.

But that was her line of thinking. How could she have been so blind? Weasleys were Blood Traitors for a reason!

In fact, it had been her own nephew, Draco, who had once told her that Weasley boy had ended up belching slugs for trying to defend that Mudblood.

As another bolt of lightning lit the sky and dispelled the darkness inside the Manor, Bellatrix took a deep breath. She eased herself in a more comfortable position, and reached her glass of red wine.

Bellatrix relaxed her muscles and clacked her fingers. Then the music began again, quickly reaching its pace, becoming wordless poetry.

Bellatrix closed her eyes again. She had her answer now. As an experienced warrior, she knew a key spot in every rival was the heart. Now, she knew the team’s weakness, which had been, ironically, also its main strength. She knew where to attack next to cause Potter and his friends to bend, and finally, break down.

Because those two are in love.

She also remembered how that scumbag Pettigrew had once mentioned the great deal of closeness they both showed towards Potter. Yes, as a shark that smells blood, she now knew where to attack.

Bellatrix smiled widely, not losing the rhythm, and began humming along the music.

The End