wheeeee!
Welcome aboard the flagship of the great and powerful Armada "You Must Be On Crack". I'm Kassie/amor_remanet and I'm the admiral, aka: She Who Writes All The Fics That Are Going To Go Here.
Let's get things started with what will quite possibly be the only gen fic I will ever write.
Title: Slytherin Pride
Universe: Harry Potter
Pairings: None! It's gen! :D
Characters: Bellatrix and her thoughts
Rating: PG for some swearing, radical views, and insinuations of plotting to kill Harry
Disclaimer: JK Rowling made up Bella and everything else; I just wrote the fic for hat_sorting's November House Cup.
After her graduation from Hogwarts, Bellatrix Lestrange had been described as a Slytherin through and through. She’d managed, in seven short years, to earn herself a reputation as cunning, determined, intelligent, and a thorough mistress of the fine and precise art of sex appeal - in short, as a sort of paragon of her House. In fact, it had been those same traits that had let her succeed in everything from schoolwork to attracting Rodolphus’ hard to please eye.
They had taken their marriage vows in the green and silver of their alma mater, with silver wedding rings that were shaped like snakes. If they’d had a son, they would have named him Salazar without a second thought.
And the whole of the wizarding world called that “Slytherin Pride.”
This - their “crimes” and their current situation, locked in prison cells, in Azkaban - the whole of the wizarding world called this criminal behavior. And evil manifested. And some of them even dared to lower themselves by throwing around the Muggle word “pathology.” Damn…what they didn’t know could fill even a troll’s empty head.
As usual, the Slytherin House was grossly misunderstood and misrepresented; those fools could not even think to know of the “Slytherin Pride” of which they spoke. Simple things like snakes and a love of the color green were just that: they were simple. They were superficial. They gave a fine animal a terrible reputation, and the defining traits of House members were hardly any better. All they served to do was to create an unfair stereotype of a cold, heartless witch or wizard with no human ties or any morals, but an undeniable sex appeal.
And, while the last one was the closest to being correct, it certainly didn’t fit all Slytherins. Look at Crabbe…and Goyle, and that pansy, hook-nosed, lily-livered, two-faced traitor to the Dark Lord, Severus Snape. If any Slytherin completely lacked moral, it would be him.
But Bellatrix had morals. She had standards. She did not claim bewitchment like Lucius Malfoy, nor did she run crying to Dumbledore, lover of Mudbloods and werewolves and other such filth, when being a Death Eater got difficult. She had the Merlin-damned decency to stand by her leader and defend him to the last. Only she, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and the Crouch boy had even bothered to look for the Dark Lord when that Potter brat had “destroyed” him.
He was only an infant! There was no way he could have fully destroyed the Dark Lord, who had taken more steps than any other wizard before or since to avoid death! But Frank and Alice Longbottom were members of Dumbledore’s response to the Dark Lord…they had information, even if they wouldn’t tell.
All they needed was coaxing. And Bellatrix had given it to them until they finally broke.
It hadn’t been hard for the Ministry to find the four of them, despite the Longbottoms’ rather ruined mental state. After all, they hadn’t run. Besides, the look on old Barty Crouch Senior’s face when he saw his own son amongst Lord Voldemort’s most faithful had made everything worth it. This was his divine retribution for all the fallen, incarcerated, and “cleared” Death Eaters that he’d “brought to justice.”
The son, though…Azkaban proved too much for him, and he’d died, while Bellatrix, her husband, and her brother-in-law had been left to rot.
But they didn’t complain. Soon enough, the Dark Lord would rise again and they would be honored for their great service, lauded more than the likes of those traitors who dared to wear the Dark Mark on their arms. She was not allowed a wand, of course, but, even without a Patronus, the Dementors couldn’t take this from her, this dream of praise and eternal glory beyond all the dreams of mere mortals.
This was what the whole of the wizarding world called “evil.” This was their idea of “iniquity” and “immorality,” but Bellatrix knew better. Regardless of what they thought, this was real Slytherin pride: standing by your convictions, even when incarcerated with the very opponent of human happiness. Seeking to aid your master by any means necessary, even when he had been cast from his body and sent to remote parts that no one could place. Chasing your dreams of glory by any means necessary, even when the rest of the world called your dreams sins.
This was Slytherin pride - not some pathetic idea of an innocent animal, or love of particular colors, or even the characteristic tendencies towards manipulation. No, waiting patiently in Azkaban for the return of your Dark Lord, being unable to go to him when the Dark Mark burned because of the Anti-Apparition Shield around the prison, refusing to change your stance despite the popularity of the opposing side…
This was real Slytherin Pride.
Let's get things started with what will quite possibly be the only gen fic I will ever write.
Title: Slytherin Pride
Universe: Harry Potter
Pairings: None! It's gen! :D
Characters: Bellatrix and her thoughts
Rating: PG for some swearing, radical views, and insinuations of plotting to kill Harry
Disclaimer: JK Rowling made up Bella and everything else; I just wrote the fic for hat_sorting's November House Cup.
After her graduation from Hogwarts, Bellatrix Lestrange had been described as a Slytherin through and through. She’d managed, in seven short years, to earn herself a reputation as cunning, determined, intelligent, and a thorough mistress of the fine and precise art of sex appeal - in short, as a sort of paragon of her House. In fact, it had been those same traits that had let her succeed in everything from schoolwork to attracting Rodolphus’ hard to please eye.
They had taken their marriage vows in the green and silver of their alma mater, with silver wedding rings that were shaped like snakes. If they’d had a son, they would have named him Salazar without a second thought.
And the whole of the wizarding world called that “Slytherin Pride.”
This - their “crimes” and their current situation, locked in prison cells, in Azkaban - the whole of the wizarding world called this criminal behavior. And evil manifested. And some of them even dared to lower themselves by throwing around the Muggle word “pathology.” Damn…what they didn’t know could fill even a troll’s empty head.
As usual, the Slytherin House was grossly misunderstood and misrepresented; those fools could not even think to know of the “Slytherin Pride” of which they spoke. Simple things like snakes and a love of the color green were just that: they were simple. They were superficial. They gave a fine animal a terrible reputation, and the defining traits of House members were hardly any better. All they served to do was to create an unfair stereotype of a cold, heartless witch or wizard with no human ties or any morals, but an undeniable sex appeal.
And, while the last one was the closest to being correct, it certainly didn’t fit all Slytherins. Look at Crabbe…and Goyle, and that pansy, hook-nosed, lily-livered, two-faced traitor to the Dark Lord, Severus Snape. If any Slytherin completely lacked moral, it would be him.
But Bellatrix had morals. She had standards. She did not claim bewitchment like Lucius Malfoy, nor did she run crying to Dumbledore, lover of Mudbloods and werewolves and other such filth, when being a Death Eater got difficult. She had the Merlin-damned decency to stand by her leader and defend him to the last. Only she, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and the Crouch boy had even bothered to look for the Dark Lord when that Potter brat had “destroyed” him.
He was only an infant! There was no way he could have fully destroyed the Dark Lord, who had taken more steps than any other wizard before or since to avoid death! But Frank and Alice Longbottom were members of Dumbledore’s response to the Dark Lord…they had information, even if they wouldn’t tell.
All they needed was coaxing. And Bellatrix had given it to them until they finally broke.
It hadn’t been hard for the Ministry to find the four of them, despite the Longbottoms’ rather ruined mental state. After all, they hadn’t run. Besides, the look on old Barty Crouch Senior’s face when he saw his own son amongst Lord Voldemort’s most faithful had made everything worth it. This was his divine retribution for all the fallen, incarcerated, and “cleared” Death Eaters that he’d “brought to justice.”
The son, though…Azkaban proved too much for him, and he’d died, while Bellatrix, her husband, and her brother-in-law had been left to rot.
But they didn’t complain. Soon enough, the Dark Lord would rise again and they would be honored for their great service, lauded more than the likes of those traitors who dared to wear the Dark Mark on their arms. She was not allowed a wand, of course, but, even without a Patronus, the Dementors couldn’t take this from her, this dream of praise and eternal glory beyond all the dreams of mere mortals.
This was what the whole of the wizarding world called “evil.” This was their idea of “iniquity” and “immorality,” but Bellatrix knew better. Regardless of what they thought, this was real Slytherin pride: standing by your convictions, even when incarcerated with the very opponent of human happiness. Seeking to aid your master by any means necessary, even when he had been cast from his body and sent to remote parts that no one could place. Chasing your dreams of glory by any means necessary, even when the rest of the world called your dreams sins.
This was Slytherin pride - not some pathetic idea of an innocent animal, or love of particular colors, or even the characteristic tendencies towards manipulation. No, waiting patiently in Azkaban for the return of your Dark Lord, being unable to go to him when the Dark Mark burned because of the Anti-Apparition Shield around the prison, refusing to change your stance despite the popularity of the opposing side…
This was real Slytherin Pride.