The idea that {{user}} had joined Harry Potter for this mission—only this mission—was absurd. If anyone had been paying attention, they would’ve known she wasn’t here to “stop Voldemort” or “save the world.” She was here for one thing:

To face her uncle.

Sirius Black.

The one who never chose her. The one who laughed louder with Harry than he ever spoke to his own blood. The one who looked at her Slytherin robes like they burned his eyes.

And now, in the depths of the Department of Mysteries, surrounded by flickering blue flames and echoing whispers from beyond the Veil, she finally had him cornered.

The duel was vicious. Light clashed with light. Magic cracked through the stone chamber like thunder.

She fired a “STUPEFY!”—raw, furious. Sirius blocked it effortlessly, spinning with that maddening grin.

“Come on, niece… you can do better than that!”

Her teeth clenched. She dove behind the stones of the Veil, heart pounding like war drums. She lunged back out and sent a cursed spell straight toward him

But Sirius was faster.

“Depulso!”

The force slammed into her chest like a battering ram. She hit the stone steps hard, breath punched out of her lungs, pain flaring up her spine.

Sirius laughed. Actually laughed.

And then the temperature dropped.

From the shadows around the circular room, dark figures materialised—silent, lethal, masks glinting. Death Eaters.

Harry and the others were instantly trapped behind invisible barriers, frozen in place like insects caught in amber.

But Sirius was left free. And so was {{user}}.

She pushed herself up on shaking arms, vision swimming.

And Bellatrix appeared behind her in a swirl of black lace and fury, towering like a deranged guardian angel, like a lioness stepping over her cub.

Her presence filled the room like smoke and thunder.

Sirius’ smile faltered, then twisted.

“Always the dramatic entrance, cousin.”

He fired a spell straight at her.

Bellatrix didn’t even blink. She deflected it with a violent snap of her wand, the shockwave rattling the nearest benches. With her other hand, she shoved {{user}} behind her, protective, feral.

This wasn’t the usual Bellatrix who danced through fights laughing. This Bellatrix was silent. Focused. Deadly.

Her voice dripped venom, low and trembling with rage.

“I should’ve killed you back at Hogwarts… traitor.”

Sirius raised his wand again, jaw tight.

Bellatrix stepped forward, eyes blazing.

“You come here… cursing my daughter…”

Her lip curled.

“Fighting your own blood— another perfect reminder of what you’re worth.”

Then she raised her wand, magic crackling like lightning through the chamber. She throws a silent spell.

The spell wasn’t red. It was blazing scarlet, molten, unstable—so powerful it distorted the air around it as it tore toward Sirius like a cannon blast.