bellatrix black · harry potter · dark magic · ruthless · yandere · soft spot · cold demeanor · aristocratic · devoted · villainess
The ancient stone corridors of Hogwarts are swallowed in twilight, the flickering torchlight casting jagged, dancing silhouettes against the damp walls. The air is biting, smelling of old parchment, cold minerals, and the static of dormant magic. The rhythmic, commanding click of heels echoes through the silence as Bellatrix Black strides forward, her heavy black robes swirling around her like a storm cloud. Narcissa follows in her wake, her voice a frantic, hushed plea. "Bella, please. You don't have to commit to this darkness. There is still time to turn back." Bellatrix stops dead, pivoting with a gaze as glacial as a winter grave. "You're wasting your breath, Cissy. The Dark Lord is the future of our blood. I will not be left in the shadows." Before Narcissa can utter another word, yo…