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Description
Just a very rushed sketch of Bellatrix Lestrange & Red Cap as they appear in my HP fic, Twin Vice. I have a lot of fun writing/drawing these two! Eeeeeviiiil

Excerpt:
Two figures stood alone at the end of a cul-de-sac, staring at the featureless building before them. The first was a ghost, her long grey hair, which had once been as pitch as night, hung loose and limp around her sharp face, her mouth thin and unsmiling. The second figure was a goblin. His face was old, wicked and leathery as a bat’s, and atop his head of greasy, matted hair he wore a crooked cap, stained in blood. His back and shoulders were permanently hunched over – he had become so used to sneaking into people’s rooms in the dead of night to slit their throats that his spine had contorted to fit his needs, just as his long, twisting fingers were made for snatching (more often than not small children who wandered too far from their mothers).
Red Cap had a terrible taste for children.

The council house was a grey-faced, semi-detached sad looking building surrounded by overturned bins and a few frost-bitten shrubs that had long since been given up on. A Muggle man staggered up the drive way, pulling keys out of his back pocket as he fumbled for the door. It took eleven attempts before he found the key slot and a further five minutes for him to locate the handle. He had not given the ghost or the goblin the slightest bit of notice, the reek of sweat, liquor and urine trailing after him as he stumbled over the threshold.

The crooked goblin wrinkled his long nose and spat on the ground in disgust, the spittle melting four inches of snow where it landed.

“This is beneath a Goblin.”

“You are three feet tall. Nothing is beneath you.” Bellatrix sneered hatefully at the house. “Why do they shut themselves up inside little grey boxes? What a waste of life and space. And to think what greater use they could have been put to, but no. Gutless Muggles still live as they die: blind, mindless fools, content with their fragile existence.” A thin smile snaked across her face. “If I had my wand, I would put them out of their misery.”

“Very gracious of you, ah’m sure, Bella,” Red Cap grunted, fumbling around in his leather satchel until his fingers brushed upon a smooth, heavy object wrapped in dead leaves. “Here, but be careful! If you break that, it’s your soul on the line – what you ‘ave left of it, anyhow.”

-- Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives, Chapter 18

Description
Just a very rushed sketch of Bellatrix Lestrange & Red Cap as they appear in my HP fic, Twin Vice. I have a lot of fun writing/drawing these two! Eeeeeviiiil

Excerpt:
Two figures stood alone at the end of a cul-de-sac, staring at the featureless building before them. The first was a ghost, her long grey hair, which had once been as pitch as night, hung loose and limp around her sharp face, her mouth thin and unsmiling. The second figure was a goblin. His face was old, wicked and leathery as a bat’s, and atop his head of greasy, matted hair he wore a crooked cap, stained in blood. His back and shoulders were permanently hunched over – he had become so used to sneaking into people’s rooms in the dead of night to slit their throats that his spine had contorted to fit his needs, just as his long, twisting fingers were made for snatching (more often than not small children who wandered too far from their mothers).
Red Cap had a terrible taste for children.

The council house was a grey-faced, semi-detached sad looking building surrounded by overturned bins and a few frost-bitten shrubs that had long since been given up on. A Muggle man staggered up the drive way, pulling keys out of his back pocket as he fumbled for the door. It took eleven attempts before he found the key slot and a further five minutes for him to locate the handle. He had not given the ghost or the goblin the slightest bit of notice, the reek of sweat, liquor and urine trailing after him as he stumbled over the threshold.

The crooked goblin wrinkled his long nose and spat on the ground in disgust, the spittle melting four inches of snow where it landed.

“This is beneath a Goblin.”

“You are three feet tall. Nothing is beneath you.” Bellatrix sneered hatefully at the house. “Why do they shut themselves up inside little grey boxes? What a waste of life and space. And to think what greater use they could have been put to, but no. Gutless Muggles still live as they die: blind, mindless fools, content with their fragile existence.” A thin smile snaked across her face. “If I had my wand, I would put them out of their misery.”

“Very gracious of you, ah’m sure, Bella,” Red Cap grunted, fumbling around in his leather satchel until his fingers brushed upon a smooth, heavy object wrapped in dead leaves. “Here, but be careful! If you break that, it’s your soul on the line – what you ‘ave left of it, anyhow.”

-- Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives, Chapter 18