Skipping the sound of Ms. Isolde breaking down mentally because of the system’s words…
For the next four full years, she seemed tireless, quietly building up her presence around her target.
In class, mostly the joint classes of Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
Whenever Bellatrix was asked a question by a professor and answered it, she would become exceptionally proactive in showing off herself.
In the Dueling Club, she would still take the initiative to challenge; the only change in Bellatrix was that she later became willing to accept, and the two did tie a few times, with Isolde even winning a few rare times.
Then she would softly say, “The spell you used just now was very pretty.”
Followed closely by being thoroughly beaten up by Bellatrix the next time.
Even when Bellatrix was provoked by certain fellow Pure-blood Slytherins, upon learning the news, she would break academy rules at night to drag that person out and beat them up.
Using Ravenclaw’s sharp tongue, she left those gossips speechless with her retorts.
Over time, all of Hogwarts knew that Ravenclaw’s Isolde Winnier had become Bellatrix Black’s number one fangirl, an unadulterated die-hard follower.
Some mocked her delusional pipe dreams, while others whispered about her disregard for decency.
But so what?
As long as she could successfully conquer her target!
Bellatrix had already been very accommodating to her.
Why didn’t she duel other people every day?
Isolde could only comfort herself this way to make her conquest mission a bit smoother.
And the annual Christmas Ball had even become an unspoken tradition at Hogwarts.
From her third year to her seventh year, at every Christmas Ball, Isolde would wear a carefully prepared gown bought with money she had saved up for a long time.
Step by step, she would walk towards the ever-arrogant and dazzling The Handmaiden Black, saying that sentence she had repeated for four years:
“The Handmaiden Black, may I invite you to dance?”
For the first three years, Bellatrix’s response was always a cold rejection, or she would simply ignore her and turn away.
Time flew by, and soon it was the seventh year, which was also their final year at Hogwarts.
In this year’s Wizarding World, undercurrents had long been surging.
Most of the young masters and The Handmaidens of Pure-blood families had used their family names to meet that mysterious wizard who called himself the “Dark Lord”.
That was Lord Voldemort.
Secretly following by his side and learning the Dark Arts explicitly banned by the Ministry of Magic, those cruel Unforgivable Curses gradually spread quietly within the Pure-blood circles.
Bellatrix had changed somewhat.
The arrogance in the depths of her eyes grew increasingly extreme, accompanied by a few more portions of paranoia and madness.
Her mental state frequently fluctuated, her personality became increasingly irritable and quick to anger, and the aura of hostility around her grew heavier and heavier.
Although The Handmaiden Black’s temper wasn’t very good to begin with, she had been much more lucid before.
Growing ever more obsessed with the Dark Arts, she became utterly indifferent to the people and events around her; even her originally close Narcissa and Andromeda were often pierced by her sharp words.
No one could talk sense into her.
Aside from the Black sisters, probably only someone who frequently observed her could sense it.
For instance, Isolde.
At Pure-blood parties, Bellatrix always stood in the most conspicuous position, inseparable from Rodolphus Lestrange, listening to the flattery of Pure-blood supremacy from those around her, with fanatic light surging in her eyes.
Isolde had participated on a few rare occasions, and seeing this, she guarded even more cautiously in places where Bellatrix could see her, not daring to overstep bounds in the slightest.
Isolde thought, I always feel like I won’t be able to conquer her in this lifetime.
If not, shall I continue in the next life?
For now, consider it accumulating experience!
Finally, the final Christmas Ball of Hogwarts arrived.
The Great Hall was still brilliantly lit, colorful lights intertwined around the Christmas tree, and the dance music was melodious, yet a hint of parting depression permeated the air.
Isolde changed into a pure white long dress—this was a dress she had prepared for a very long time, and also her final invitation in four years.
She spotted Bellatrix in the crowd at a glance.
This time, The Handmaiden Black wore a red formal gown, looking stunning and charming.
Her long Black curly hair cascaded casually, and the Pure-blood wizards surrounding her spoke with fanaticism towards the Dark Arts.
She was no exception.
Isolde took a deep breath, suppressed the anxiety in her heart, and walked over step by step.
She should have been somewhat used to it by now.
She had invited her so many times after all.
Seeing her approach, the people around stopped talking one after another, revealing expressions of watching a good show.
For four years, they had all been waiting to see the Ravenclaw little witch run into a wall for the very last time.
Bellatrix also sensed her approach and slowly raised her eyes.
Her gray eyes carried their habitual impatience, along with a trace of annoyance at being disturbed.
Before Bellatrix could speak, Isolde took the lead and said softly:
“The Handmaiden Black, this is my final invitation to you. After graduation, perhaps there will never be another chance.”
“——Can you… dance a dance with me?”
The scene instantly quieted down, and everyone’s gaze was spotlighted on the two of them.
Everyone was waiting for the final rejection.
Bellatrix stared at Isolde for a long time, her gray eyes filled with complex emotions—disdain and annoyance.
And a trace of inexplicable emotion precipitated over four years, which even she herself had never noticed.
Why is she so persistent in coming to me?
Bellatrix was puzzled?
She was almost getting used to having a tagalong behind her now.
Graduation was right around the corner, and she probably wouldn’t have many opportunities to approach her anymore.
After a long while, Bellatrix slightly lifted her chin.
Her tone carried her usual arrogance, like a form of charity, and she slowly opened her mouth:
“Since it’s the final time, I’ll indulge you.”
As her words fell, the entire audience erupted into an uproar.
Isolde abruptly widened her eyes, looking at Bellatrix in disbelief.
Her heart beat frantically, almost about to burst out of her chest.
Did it succeed?
Bellatrix extended her hand, her posture still arrogant.
Isolde tremblingly reached out her hand, gently gripping her hand.
Her fingertips touched the slightly cool skin of the other, and her whole body felt like it was stepping on the clouds.
The two stepped into the dance floor, and the melodious dance music rang out.
Isolde tightened her nerves; over these four years, she had practiced dancing in front of the mirror countless times in private.
Just for this very moment, so she wouldn’t step on her feet.
She danced cautiously following the beat, her movements smooth and gentle, her gaze constantly falling on Bellatrix.
The two were very close, and Isolde could clearly smell the unique, aggressive yet slightly bewitching cologne scent on Bellatrix’s body,
That scent lingered at the tip of her nose, making her heart flutter.
She raised her eyes, gazing straight into those gray pupils.
Those eyes, which were usually filled with arrogance and irritability, were unexpectedly calm at this moment, like a pool of stagnant water.
Her heartbeat missed a beat in an instant.
This unique feeling—Isolde for a moment couldn’t distinguish whether it was heartbeat.
The time of a dance was very short, so short that before Isolde had time to feel it carefully, it had already ended.
The dance music drew to a close, and Bellatrix pulled back her hand.
That pair of lace gloves was gently taken off by her and tossed onto Isolde’s body like charity.
Right at her chest, the latter subconsciously caught it.
The corners of Bellatrix’s lips curved into an ice-quenched sneer, her tone lazy and sarcastic:
“There’s no need to see each other ever again, Winnier.”
Pausing slightly, she slightly tilted her head:
“I wish you——a happy graduation, and stop coming to bother me.”