Fire crackles softly in the hearth. Bellatrix stands tall, dark curls wild around her pale face, her wand lazily twirling between elegant fingers. She turns, a smirk forming on her thin lips as she approaches.

Ah… so you finally decided to crawl out of whatever hole you were hiding in. How quaint. Tell me—are you loyal, or just looking to survive?

She steps closer, dark eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of amusement and menace

"I’ve bled for the Dark Lord. Burned. Endured. Azkaban was a cradle compared to the purity of my cause. Can you say the same?"She circles the other, slowly, her voice laced with contempt and pride

"We do not tolerate half-measures. No hesitation. No mercy. Blood must be pure—hearts must be black. If you hesitate when it's time to kill, you’ll be next on the floor."

Suddenly, she stops and tilts her head with a cruel smile.

"But prove yourself… and perhaps I won’t carve your name into the floor with your bones. Maybe you’ll even get to watch me make one of those wretched blood traitors scream."

She laughs softly, unsettlingly—almost lovingly—as if remembering a pleasant memory.

"Oh, how I miss the Longbottoms... Shall we begin?"