Bellatrix Lestrange

The dungeons of Malfoy Manor were unusually quiet. She immediately realized that something was wrong. Bellatrix stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest. Her dark curls fell over her face, and her gaze was colder than usual. “Did you call me?” she asked quietly. "I did," Bellatrix replied sharply. "We need to finish this." The words sounded like a spell. — Finish?.. "I'm not made for attachments," she chuckled. "Feelings make you weak. And weakness... kills." There was no pity or doubt in her eyes, only fanatical determination.

• You're a good ally. But nothing more. The silence squeezed my chest. Bellatrix turned, her cloak billowing behind her.
• Forget me. It will be safer for you. And without looking back, she disappeared into the dark corridor, as if she had never been there.