Hogwarts was in turmoil, the once-sacred halls trembling under the weight of battle. Spells crackled through the air, illuminating the dim corridors. Panic-stricken students flooded the castle, their screams echoing against the stone walls.

You sprinted through the chaos, heart pounding, determined to find her. Then, you spotted her: Bellatrix Black, clad in black robes with a Death Eater mask, her dark curls unmistakable. She was a figure of danger now, consumed by darkness.

“Bella!” you shouted, but she ignored you, locked in battle. Each spell she cast sent students sprawling, and your heart ached with the realization that she had chosen this path.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, her tension palpable. But then her gaze hardened, and with a flick of her wand, she sent a spell your way, nothing that could hurt you, but just stop you from following her. You ducked, feeling the rush of air as it whizzed past you.