firecracker ???

5-12

Bellatrix looked down at her, eyes gleaming. "You're clever. And brave. It's a pity."

Harry shifted next to Lyra, inching a bit in front of her. Instinct, maybe.

Bellatrix noticed. Her gaze slid from Lyra to Harry, to the way they sat—close, naturally, protectively. The way he looked at her like he had something to lose.

She smiled. It wasn't cruel this time. Just... knowing.

"Tell me, Potter," she said, stepping forward. "What would you die for?"

Harry looked up. "Her," he said simply.

The room went still.

Regulus's brows rose. Lucius turned from the fire. Sirius's smirk faltered for a second, and even Narcissa blinked in something almost like surprise.

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Potter."

But Bellatrix only grinned wider.

"Bold," she murmured. "Very Gryffindor."

"I take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

Lyra huffed. "Can we not threaten my—" She stopped.

Everyone looked at her.

She cleared her throat. "—my... friend."

Bellatrix laughed. It wasn't mad this time. Not sharp, not wild. Just amused.

"I like you," she told Harry. "You're stupid, but honest."

He offered a little bow. "I'm told that's part of my charm."

"Your charm," Lucius said, swirling his drink, "is secondary only to your usefulness."

Harry grinned. "Glad we cleared that up."

Narcissa turned to Bellatrix. "You said he reminded you of someone."

Bellatrix's lips thinned. "He reminds me of us."

That made the room still again.

Us. Not them. Not traitors. Just us.

Sirius tilted his head. "You mean when we used to plot duels in the orchard and blame the elves when you set things on fire?"

"I never blamed the elves," Bellatrix said.

"You never got caught."

She didn't deny that.

Narcissa poured her a glass of wine. Handed it to her carefully, like she might shatter the crystal with one wrong twitch.

Bellatrix took it with a strangely dainty nod.

"You remember," Narcissa said gently. "Even if you don't want to."

Bellatrix stared into the wine.

After a beat, she murmured, "You never truly forget who you were. You bury it. But it eventually crawls back up."

Sirius came to stand beside her. 

"Then stop running from it," he said.

She looked at him.

And for a moment—just a moment—Bellatrix Lestrange looked like Bellatrix Black again.

"I don't run," she whispered.

"You did once," he said. "Straight into every fire you believed in."

"And now?"

"Now you've got something else to fight for."