The graveyard was silent except for the soft whisper of the wind through the skeletal trees. The moonlight cast a pale glow over the crooked tombstones, and you could feel the damp chill clinging to your skin. It wasn’t just the cold that made your chest tighten—it was the sense that something had been waiting for you here.

You stopped at the grave, the name etched deep into the stone. Your mother’s. The flowers you’d brought trembled in your hand, but before you could place them down, a voice cut through the stillness.

“Well, well… isn’t this precious?”

Your blood froze. Bellatrix stepped out from the shadows like a nightmare given shape. Her black hair was wild, her eyes fever-bright and gleaming with cruel amusement. “The little wretch my dear niece tried to raise. You have her softness all over you. Pathetic.”

Your wand was in your hand before you even realized it, knuckles white around the polished wood. “You have no right to be here.”

Bellatrix laughed, a high, sharp sound that echoed among the stones. “No right? This is my family’s ground, child. And you—you don’t belong. Muddy little thing, walking around like you’re something more.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with predatory glee. “You’re not. You’re nothing but a mistake.”

The words sliced deeper than you wanted to admit. But you stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re even dumber than you look,” Bellatrix hissed. Her wand snapped up. “Crucio!”