Chapter Text
Everyone knows the tale of the boy who lived. His valiant rise to stardom and eventual defeat of the Dark Lord, not once, but twice. Witches and Wizards all over the world rejoiced and celebrated, praying that such dark times would never come again. Harry Potter is the savior of the wizarding world. But what if his story had happened a little differently?
Before the young boy ever learned he was a wizard, ever learned of the world that was robbed of him, he lived in a cupboard under the stairs. Bullied by his surviving family, he wished every day that something would change, but hope died a little every day. His only friends the spiders spinning webs above his head.
Hundreds of kilometers away from the boy, something would happen that would change the boy's life forever.
A few weeks before the half-giant Hagrid came to deliver the boy his acceptance letter, far away in the North Sea, Bellatrix Lestrange escaped Azkaban. It took the combined effort of three years for her escape to come to fruition, years of planning and failure until that fateful night. Bellatrix had always been a clever witch, using her intellect and charisma to rise in the ranks of Voldemort’s army. But escaping from Azkaban took more than intelligence, it took time.
While wasting away in the small cells that made up the prison, her happiness and strength sucked out daily by the Dementors, she came to a realization. When she was younger, she remembered that her cousin Sirius had trained to become an Animagus. Supposedly it was to spend more time with his friends, but she never cared, until now. With little strength, and no knowledge, it took some time for her to figure out how to transform. Every time she got close, the dementors made her start over at step one.
Bellatrix thought of her old transfiguration professor, how she was able to transform into a cat at will. She hated her past self for not paying more attention to the lessons, hate being the only emotion allowed to fester at Azkaban. The process she followed was different from other Animagi, but it worked all the same. Magic was funny like that. Using the last of her strength, she managed to transform into a cat for five seconds. Not enough time to alert the guards, but enough time that she could gain hope. It was that hope that kept her going.
Soon, five seconds became ten, and then a minute and before long she could hold it as long as she wanted. Bellatrix didn’t get much time to taste her new abilities, due to the frequent visits from the Dementors, but she was confident that it didn’t matter. One night, during a rotation of guards, she transformed into her cat form and escaped.
Her tiny legs ran across the stone floor, weaving around corners whenever she saw someone. She absentmindedly thought about visiting her husband, or her cousin, but she didn’t have the strength. Reaching the edge, she peered over into the darkness. All that could be heard was the crashing of waves, and the sound of screaming somewhere below. Using the last of her strength, she searched for some sign of her master, the Dark Lord Voldemort.
When the news first reached her, she couldn’t believe it. The most powerful Dark wizard ever to live, defeated by a child? There was no way that could be true. But it was, whether Bellatrix wanted to believe it or not. Holding onto the hope that she was right, and the world was wrong, she magically reached out to her master and found nothing. If he was alive, he didn’t care to come for her.
Her eyes clenched shut in concentration, she wouldn’t have noticed the approaching Dementor if not for the chill that ran up her fur-covered spine. Thankfully, her efforts were not in vain. She managed to find a small trace of her master, something she could latch onto. As she blacked out from exhaustion, she Apparated toward that source. The chill of the Dementors faded away, as she succumbed to the cold of a summer's night.
The next day, Bellatrix found herself laying on the sidewalk of a small British village. Identical houses lined the road, with trimmed hedges and perfectly mowed lawns. She raised her feline head and stretched, looking around her. Bellatrix wondered why she felt her master’s presence on this street. Maybe she had failed to Apparate properly, it was nearly impossible to do without a wand. Her master could be miles away.
Using her magic to search for that presence again told her that she hadn’t failed, her master could be felt nearby. Feeling around for the source, her eyes focused on a young boy picking weeds in the front yard of his house. Many who would come to know this tale would have instantly recognized the boy who lived at number 4 Privet Drive, but not Bellatrix. She stared at him curiously, watching his thin fingers dig into the dirt.
He had jet-black hair and a wiry frame. On his face, he had circular glasses—the middle nosepiece fixed with tape—covering bright green eyes. His clothes were shabby and poor fitting, hanging off his body like rags. Bellatrix was surprised that the boy decided to wear a sweater on a hot summer’s day, but she didn’t know that he had no other clothes for outside work. As the young boy turned around and wiped his brow, her eyes locked onto the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
Anger and hatred almost overtook her. It took everything she had left not to turn back into her human form and kill him with her bare hands. Were it not for her own morbid curiosity, she might have done it. She watched as the boy continued to pull weeds, not noticing the angry cat glaring at him from across the street. Still not fully understanding what was happening, Bellatrix closed her eyes and focused on her master’s presence, but when she opened her eyes, she only saw Harry Potter.
The front door to number 4 slammed open as Harry’s aunt ran outside. She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him inside, angrily whispering quiet enough that Bellatrix couldn’t hear. Curious, she snuck closer until she was hidden in the flowers beneath their front window. Yelling could be heard from inside, but it was a useless string of insults and garbled sounds that disappointed the tired witch. Annoyed that the drama inside was boring, she found herself enjoying the cool shade she was hidden in. After curling up to get comfortable in the dirt, Bellatrix drifted off to sleep.
Snapping awake, Bellatrix felt a pair of eyes on her. She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but she still felt tired and sore. Afraid that her animagus form had dropped in her sleep, she sprang up and turned toward the intruder. But her form had stayed, and the pair of wandering eyes were more curious than intrusive. Kneeling on his aunt and uncle’s porch, Harry watched the cat spring to life. His bright green eyes were widened by fear, afraid that he had disturbed the poor creature.
“I’m sorry for waking you, kitty. But I brought you some water, sorry I don’t have any food,” said Harry, holding out a ceramic bowl filled to the brim with water. He placed the bowl in the dirt of his aunt’s garden and stepped back. Bellatrix realized for the first time how thirsty she was. The last time she had drank anything was through the cracks in her cell at Azkaban. It rained often, so there was plenty of water to be had, if you liked the taste of dirt and rust.
Carefully slinking past the flowers, Bellatrix stepped toward Harry, her feline eyes never straying or blinking. She lowered her head and scooped some of the water using her tongue. It was cool and refreshing, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day, but most importantly it was clean. Involuntarily, Bellatrix found herself purring as she drank, which caused Harry to smile.
After seeing the poor creature sleeping in his aunt’s garden, Harry made it his goal to befriend the stray cat. It reminded him of himself: dangerously thin with jet-black fur, dirty, and barely hanging onto life. He happily watched as Bellatrix finished the bowl before starting to groom herself. Her dark brown eyes curiously eyed the boy up and down, as if sizing him up for a meal.
All the anger and hate that Bellatrix felt before slowly turned to pity and confusion. Here was the slayer of her master, and he was giving her water after being yelled at by his aunt. He looked pathetic kneeling on the concrete porch, smiling at her own sorry state. Whatever trace of her master lived on in the boy, it did nothing to harm his spirit. Her master would have never looked twice at a stray cat, unless to torture it. It was as if Bellatrix’s entire life was turned on its head by the single kind action of a young boy.
Harry stuck out his hand, going slowly so as not to scare his new friend. As an animalistic reflex, Bellatrix hissed and ran into the bushes across the street. She watched as the young boy’s head fell as he stood up to go back inside. Crestfallen, Harry picked up the bowl, brushed the dirt off the bottom, and went back to his sheltered life.
Guilt filled Bellatrix as she watched the poor boy saunter inside. The first selfless kind action that had been done for her in a decade—maybe even her whole life—and she drove the one responsible away. If she wasn’t so tired and hungry, she might have done something to fix it. But as she was, she could only find another shady comfortable spot in the bushes and try to fall asleep. She dreamed about Azkaban and the Dementors, so she didn’t sleep for long.
For the next couple of days, Bellatrix spent all her time watching the boy. Since she had been in Azkaban, she hadn’t turned back into a human once, so she was becoming more used to her life as a cat. In the mornings, she snuck into the Dursley’s yard and drank out of the bowl Harry left for her. Sometimes he also left her a plate of breakfast scraps, those were her favorite days. Then she spent the rest of the day sneaking around their yard for any glimpse of Harry. She wanted to study him, see why he was so nice to her, and if her master ever showed in his attitudes.
One morning, while heading to drink her daily bowl of water, Bellatrix was surprised to see Harry waiting there on the porch. He watched as she stepped through his aunt’s flowers and graciously drank from the bowl he provided. She still looked worse for wear, but at least she was alive. As she drank, he tried to pet her again, slowly inching his hand towards her. Bellatrix tried to casually drink her water, attempting to ignore the boy, but her loud purring betrayed her emotions. Finally, his hand met her fur, causing Bellatrix to purr even louder.
His fingers ran over her spine, occasionally scratching along the edges, brushing her filthy fur into something presentable. Harry smiled as the stray cat he had spent so much time caring for stepped onto the porch and rubbed against his legs. Although Bellatrix told herself that this was a ruse to gain more information about the boy who lived, she couldn’t help but feel joy at how good his hand felt on her. Maybe it was the fact that she had been a cat for so long, but she could have stayed like that for the rest of time.
Carefully, Harry scooped Bellatrix into his arms. Any normal cat would have freaked out at such a brash action, but Bellatrix stayed calm as Harry brought her into the house. Apparently the Dursley’s were gone, as they had no trouble heading upstairs to the bathroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it before placing Bellatrix in the empty bath. If Harry had any idea what a normal cat acted like, he might have been suspicious at how nonchalant she was acting, but he was just happy that he was able to bring her inside.
Bellatrix was delighted to be able to get a proper bath, so excited that she almost turned back into a human. Luckily, she kept her nerves and watched as Harry pulled down the shower head and let the water turn warm. Using an old brush and warm water, Harry cleaned all the dirt off Bellatrix and fluffed up her coat. He didn’t have cat shampoo, so he used his own shampoo, hoping that it would be okay. It seemed to be, as Bellatrix was purring louder than she ever had before.
“What am I going to call you?” asked Harry. “I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl. Maybe Midnight? That sounds like a neutral name for a black cat…”
Bellatrix slowly shook her head, her eyes looking directly at Harry. “Alright, not Midnight. Panther? I read about them in a zoo book once, never seen one before, though. No? Not a Panther? Well, we have to pick a name,” said Harry. Suddenly his eyes grew wide as he looked at the cat, confused. “Are you shaking your head? Can you understand me?”
The blank expression on the cat’s face told him that she didn’t. But he still had some hope. Bellatrix was nervous she had revealed herself, but Harry didn’t seem scared that she was an Animagus. He was excited to have a friend that could understand him, unlike everyone else in his life.
“Are you a boy or a girl?” asked Harry.
After a couple of seconds, Bellatrix blinked twice. Though she wondered how little this boy knew if he couldn’t tell the difference between a boy cat and a girl cat. Did she mess up with her transformation? Or was he just stupid? How had the vanquisher of the Dark Lord turned out like this?
“A girl? You’re a girl? Yes? Alright then, I need to find you a proper girl’s name.” Harry thought for some time. He ran the brush through Bellatrix’s coat as he did, causing her to start purring again. The brush felt so good running through her fur that drool started to drip out. Thankfully it was in the bath, but Bellatrix was disgusted with herself for losing to her emotions so quickly.
“I don’t know many girls, other than my aunt of course. I did hear a nice name on the news yesterday. Some news reporter retired; I think. So, how about Bella? Do you like Bella?”
Bellatrix was shocked that Harry had come up with something close to her name. It was the same nickname Voldemort used. She was worried that Harry suspected something, and what would happen if anyone made the connection to her human self. But she was too happy to care. It was the first time anybody had called her Bella since she last saw her sister Narcissa. It gave her a nostalgic feeling that crushed any worries. Purring as loud as she could, Bellatrix rubbed against Harry’s arm to show that she picked the name.
Harry laughed. “Bella it is then. Would you like to stay with me, Bella? It might be better than living on your own. As long as you're quiet, I don’t think Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will mind. Dudley might even be jealous of you, but I’ll protect you from him. You’ll just have to stay quiet until I ask them, okay?”
She nodded, continuing to brush against his arm. In all her years in Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange would have never imagined coming to stay at the home of the boy who lived. The one who killed her master and saved the wizarding world. Especially not as a pet. But since she left, he was the one source of joy in her life.