Bellatrix had been an old school friend. You’d liked her once, more than liked her, perhaps but you’d never been certain if she felt the same. Back then, it was easier to wonder than to risk finding out. Eventually, your paths diverged. She embraced the darkness, slipping further into the shadowy ranks of the Death Eaters, while you stepped away, unwilling to follow her descent.

Years passed. Then came the headline in the Daily Prophet: Bellatrix Black freed from Azkaban. The name sent a cold shock through you. Memories buried long ago clawed their way to the surface, confusion, anger, longing.

Now, the war had made your allegiances clear. You were with the Order of the Phoenix. She was everything you stood against.

It was a stormy night when your world shifted again. Rain lashed against the windows of your manor as you sat in uneasy solitude. The sharp chime of the doorbell startled you. You sent your house-elf to answer it, but the elf’s terrified cry from the foyer froze you mid-step.

You reached the door, your heart pounding, and found your elf trembling, pointing a quivering finger outside.