Kassie narrowed her eyes, unsure what she was trying to achieve by arguing. It almost seemed like she was trying to convince her that she wasn’t as evil as she assumed. But she wasn’t assuming anything. She knew what she was; what she’s done to good and innocent people, just because they didn’t agree with her views. But even if she didn’t know all that, she knew now what she had done to Lee, and making one a mindless slave for over a year was no light-hearten act.
"Y—You’re not actually suggesting you have the makings of a saint, are you?” she asked. “Is..that an attempt at a joke? ‘Cause you can’t be serious.” Bellatrix, a saint? Yeah, not even if hell froze over.—It wasn’t even as if Kassie didn’t know that much about religion, either, but she was pretty damn sure saints were the complete opposite of what all Bellatrix stood for.
That did it. The scum insult was what pushed her over the edge, and Kassie was just able to put up a shield charm up in time to block most of the curse that came hurtling at her. A sharp gasp escaped the small Gryffindor, and she clutched her side where the burst of energy had broken through. Her shield hadn’t been powerful enough to withstand the stronger, opposing force, resulting in a burnt patch of skin. It hurt, but Kassie managed, knowing that the full force would have been a thousand times worse. With a clamped jaw, she straightened up her posture again, locking gazes with the dark witch as she repeated her question with more force. “Where are you keeping her?”
"Every saint is a sinner first no matter how pretty or pitiful they make themselves later." But no, she had no delusions of sainthood.And she had abandoned any pretense of caring about how the wrong people viewed her years ago. "Therefore, no one, not even saints are as good as they may claim. At least,I’ve never claimed to be what I’m not."
Gryffindors were always painted as the heroes. In reality, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, even the rare Hufflepuff could be just as loyal and ruthless and unforgiving as they tried to make Slytherins out to be. And some Slytherins could be just as spineless and traitorous as any of the others.
And Bellatrix had never fit in. She’d simply decided to stand out.She’d loved her family and her house, but she’d been born female. Too bold, too loud, too much of a temper to be a lady. If she’d been the first born male, she could’ve been a leader, but they had expected her to be a leader’s wife. She’d grown up learning the bloodlines, but she’d wanted more than merely being the bearer of the next heir. She hadn’t even managed to that.And here she was, nearly 50 still fighting against other’s low opinion of her. It was infuriating.The blast didn’t hit the girl with full force, but seeing her struggle with it was satisfaction enough.
"I never said I had her.I never said I was keeping her anywhere. You haven’t been listening. And shouting at me won’t help your defensive technique." She wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone today, but she wasn’t a fan of people wasting her time either. She shot off another curse.
Curiosity Kills, Potter |owanaminapotter |WR Verse
"You’re a steaming pile of hippogriff shit in the shape of cow’s arse. Is that creative enough for you?” Owana snapped in exasperation - her spells were missing their targets and Lestrange’s infernal spells had her jumping and hopping from place to place, pushing her so far into the flames that she often got singed.
But the dance couldn’t go on forever and finally, one of Lestrange’s whip hexes hit Owana’s foot. She let out a yell of pain and collapsed - it felt as though her foot had gotten stung by every poisonous animal imaginable all at once.
"It’s not Shakespeare and I find the scatological component to be utterly juvenile. How’s that for constructive criticism?"Bellatrix’s last crack brought Owana crashing down.She smiled and turned to the female Death Eater. "You wanted to bring her in?"
"Yes, Madame,"chirped the voice from the under the hood. Bellatrix stepped back and the younger woman conjured chains that slithered around Owana’s wrists and ankles.She turned over Owana’s wand to Bellatrix before grabbing Owana’s wrist and disapparating. The male Death Eater rolled a wheelchair in and dragged Owana into it.
" No one was asking you to, but maybe you could have self-preserved yourself off millions of TV’s basically bill boarding the fact you’re alive. You could have been out and living peacefully in the country in a few years. " Avery leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. " Have you made any progress with that lately? "
"If the people I’ve killed and multiple sightings of me over the last couple of years hadn’t convinced people I was alive then they deserved to be bashed over the head with it. I’ve done more than a few uncomfortable things for my causes. Nothing is gained without sacrifice."Bellatrix opened up a cookie tin.She plucked a chocolate chip cookie out and bit into it. "I have. Unfortunately, Slytherin’s habit of adaptation is probably the source of his survival. His first go around…According to history,he, too, was searching for something powerful and transformative that would allow him to cheat death. Clearly, he succeeded. My source on all this is also curious as to why he needed to be asleep for years. Maybe he was running low on whatever it was? Why else would you impersonate a businessman with millions of potion ingredients at your disposal?"
you could kill a man in any of these dresses, and pretty sure no jury would convict you. those are killing-men dresses, that’s what i’m saying
(Source: thedaymarecollection, via bethe-serpent-undert)
(Open to Wizard Renegades)
George didn’t understand her, didn’t know why she had to do this to so many people he loved and now criticizing him. He needed to pull himself together, dry his tears, there was no time to cry right now or any other time. He needed to focus on the duel itself.
George blocked the curses she shot at him biting his lower lip. He had to do it, he didn’t need to hold back because this was Bellatrix. Why was he holding back when he was angry and was not hesitant with his fighting.
"Crucio!" He yelled hoping it would hit her, it would hurt her because the bitch deserved it.
These people would never learn the error of their ways if they persisted in blindly refusing to see the truth. Tears solved nothing. Coddling muggles and traitors wouldn’t fix the broken world. Chaos would only be tamed by order. “Hm. Maybe you didn’t hear me—“The curse connected and pain radiated out from where it hit. She stopped mid-stride.The pain faded. A glint of anger flashed over her features, but her smile returned. “As I told your housemate Potter, you need to mean it.Crucio!"She jabbed her wand forward and twisted it."Noble intentions and righteous anger don’t burn quite as much…You have to mean it. Mean it and enjoy it."
He couldn’t decide if she was complimenting him or insulting him. It sounded like a bit of both. Either way, she was clearly someone— something— he needed to deal with. If she knew him, she was either a hunter or something unnatural. She certainly didn’t look like a hunter.
He comment had the knife in his had, out of its sheath. Habit, maybe. But he saw a dangerous glint in her eyes and that alone had him wishing to be rid of this woman.
"Not sure you’ll like this one." He admitted. "It tends to be a bit more destructive than most knives." Of course, that was only if she was a demon or something that hated silver. Which didn’t, honestly, give him a lot of hope.
"Then, I’d definitely like that knife.It’s very pretty.Did you grow your hair out to look more approachable?They never tell in the stories,"Bellatrix continued.She circled him like he was a pedigreed dog on display at a show. She drew a knife of her own from her black,leather, jacket.
"I used to have lots of knives. It was quite the collection. Knives and bows and spears and…I always forget what the spiked balls on the chains are called." She shrugged."Can’t go back now. They’d all point sticks at me.Very rude."
She smiled and gripped her knife handle tighter. “Do you want to start or you one of those ladies first types?”