Author's Acknowledgement: I do not own any of J K Rowling's characters, plot lines or any such magic she created for her novels. This fiction will be in the point of view of my original protagonist and story lines are subject to change throughout. I hope you enjoy.

x

The Stoic Ward

Chapter one: [Welcome to Hogwarts]

Lady Black hesitates before an immaculate window on the east side of Malfoy Manor. Her silver eyes set ablaze as she watches the sun rise. How appropriate, she muses, that the sky should emerge burning to her on such a day as this. Altairia has no aversion towards school, in fact she favours the living arrangement of Hogwarts more than the house she presently resides in but society is strenuous – and in the light of recent media, she should expect to be mistreated from all perspectives. Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. The serial murderer is able to prey upon wizarding England once more and of course; it cannot be coincidence that she is now to attend his old site of education, and so soon after her Mother's abrupt death. Altairia knows what they will think and they are wrong. Nothing in her life is coincidence. It is politics and that is the way of all Pure-Blood lifestyles. A constant reminder by her trembling right hand. Altairia grasps it with her left and squares her shoulders.

A familiar pop sounds from behind her but in despite of the displeasure that now twinges upon her brow – she is not stirred. Saldor says nothing as he waits patiently by the dark oak doors at the end of the corridor. Dressed in a fitting suit, he has a lifetime of experience when Altairia's silences are concerned, and his patience has not failed him now.

'Do not let this household disrespect you while I am gone, Saldor,' Altairia instructs. Saldor is as close to a family member that she has, and while he desires to remain a servant to her household, she wishes him to leave if he so wishes.

'I will not abandon you, Lady Black,' he replies, knowing her all too well. 'I have been a servant to The House of Black for a very long time. No Elf nor Malfoy will deter me from your service and your service alone.' A smile graces the youthful witch's features and she turns to view him.

'I best report to Lord Malfoy,' she says with distain. Saldor says nothing, not wishing to disrespect the owner of said Manor nor disagree with his Lady. Altairia follows him to Lord Malfoy's office and bows before leaving her alone to enter. She knocks softly on the door and is greeted by the silver haired gentleman dressed in his best robes and clutching a cane.

'Good morning, Lady Black,' he greets.

'Pleasantries to you also,' she replies, a tone of formality and nothing more. 'I apologise for my ill punctuality, Lord Malfoy. I had trouble sleeping.' Not necessarily a lie, she did not sleep well but her morning began prematurely enough to be here on time. It seems her manners are misplaced often nowadays.

'I can forgive a few minutes,' Lucius states impassively. 'However we must leave immediately.' There are no more opportunities to stall which irks Altairia but she remains mute nevertheless. Lord Malfoy assists with her ebony cloak and then apparates them to King's Cross station in London. Both persist composure as they stride through a hectic crowd under a glamour, Saldor running along behind them with Altairia's silver and mahogany suitcase shrunk down to size, and her caged owl Thorn. Lucius does not enter onto platform nine and three quarters. He bids her farewell at the station entrance, reminding her to write if she needs anything and to not dishonour the Black or Malfoy name. As if she could ever forget not to, Altairia thinks bitterly.

Waiting in the station of the quartered platform lies a picturesque train. The Hogwarts Express, a true marvel. It only hosts one carriage which is more than enough for the single student. She boards and finds a secluded compartment to sit in for her journey, her eyes cast to the window while Saldor places her belongings inside the compartment.

'Safe journey, Lady Black,' Saldor wishes.

'Thank you, friend,' Altairia says, turning her head to look at him. She drops her stoic façade momentarily. 'I will miss you.'

'I will miss you also, my Lady.' They do not say goodbye. Saldor disappears as the train commences out of the station and Altairia puts her mask back in place. She does not make a noise for the entirety of her journey and her only movement is the shaking on her right hand which she holds tightly on her lap. When she reaches her destination, she rises with grace and vacates the train. Near a lit lamppost stands an older witch in velvet green robes. Her grey hair is would up tightly into a bun on the back of her head, and she wears a stern look. Altairia speculates if this woman is trying to be intimidating and decides the question is unimportant. Nobody could conquer the only expression her Mother ever wore; it was unnerving enough to make Lord Malfoy respect Altairia more than his own son.

'Good evening, Miss Black. I am Professor McGonagall. Please follow me,' the woman orders. Altairia does as she is told and silently follows, irate at herself. The righteous part of her mind tells herself that being addressed as Lady is pretentious but it always gave her authority in her life. Growing up surrounded by only Pure-Blood families, it has been the only security she is entitled to. Lady Malfoy told her that things would be different but now Altairia worries that different may not cooperate with her at all. In the days after her Mother's passing, Altairia worried she would be sent to a children's home or perhaps she too was to die. It appeared only obvious to her that her Mother had been murdered but no conversation with Professors nor family friends brought the possibility to stand. From thence, Altairia let it go. She required no justice, she was just thankful to be free of her DADA lessons. Now an orphan and Ward to House Malfoy, she is grateful her heritage has saved her from disgrace. She may continue the lifestyle she is accustom to and pursue a proper education that does not involve precautionary measure lessons.

Her reflections are quickly diminished as the castle comes into view beyond the tops of the trees. A thrill pursues her and she quickens her step behind the elder witch. A walk to the castle did not feel so vexing now that she was excited but a singular black carriage awaits her a few yards away. Altairia harnesses her enthusiasm, silently scolding herself. A hike is no activity for a Lady.

'The Headmaster will meet you at the castle,' the Professor tells her. 'You will be sorted into your house after dinner then your belongings will be taken to your dormitory.' Altairia wishes to question if Professor McGonagall will be riding with her but does not, instead she undertakes her orders and mounts the carriage. The door shuts and locks behind her and Altairia has yet to take her seat when the carriage begins to move.

'Merlin,' she cusses as she falls back into the chair. Her head thrusts back and she is left wincing after it hits the wooden back of the carriage. What an appalling mode of transportation, Altairia fumes as she grips onto the seat in order to steady herself. A piercing agony erupts in her right wrist but she grits her teeth and fares with it. Her Mother would have been furious to know her daughter had been subjected to travel in such treacherous conditions.

It took everything of Altairia's willpower to not vomit during the should-have-been short journey what with the knocks in the road and her throbbing headache. She essentially threw herself out of the open door once the carriage came to a stop. Steadying herself, she closes her eyes and draws in a long breath of fresh air.

'It would seem our carriages are not for everyone's liking,' a deep voice says, a twinge of amuse evident within. Altairia opens her eyes and instantaneously her poise is immovable, her twitch hidden beneath her cloak. She studies the old man in midnight blue robes. He has lengthy white hair and a beard to equal, and it is shaped by a hair tie midway. This is the Headmaster. Altairia observes that this wizard wears glasses on the end of his nose, perhaps more for a metaphor than optical assistance or merely reading spectacles. He is queer, she finds. Not many wizards or witches appear strange to her but this one did.

'I do not wish to offend, Headmaster,' she says, finally discovering her voice. 'I am simply not custom to travelling.' The man raises his hands and smiles.

'No offence taken,' he reassures her. 'I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is with gladness that we receive your entry to our school, Miss Black.'

'Thank you.'

Professor Dumbledore gestures with his hand that she is to approach him and once Altairia walks towards him, he turns and leads her up towards the castle. They cross an extensive concrete bridge and pass through a courtyard before reaching the entrance doors. Altairia keeps her eyes on the back of her Professor as they cross through the school to a large dining hall. Four tables nearly as long as the hall itself sit with perfect spacing between them and at the end there is another table upon a few steps overlooking the rest. This is the table where staff are already seated.

'Please be seated beside me,' the Headmaster says as they ascend the steps. Altairia rounds the table behind him and takes her place. 'Staff this is Miss Black. Miss Black these are some of your Professors. But please without further delay, everyone enjoy.' Food appears on the table and it is only now Altairia is staring down at the brazed chicken that her stomach twists in pain. She unties her cloak and lets it fall from her shoulders so that she is not wearing inappropriate attire to dine in. The silver dress she currently sits in, softening out any creases, is her favourite. It has a corset covered in lace and silk flows down to her ankles, beneath her corset is a thin turquoise ribbon and upon that ribbon is a metal pin showing the Black House Crest. Her Mother always spoke fondly of this dress also, proclaiming that Altairia looked like a proper Lady in it.

No matter how Altairia wishes to ravish all of the food, she takes a polite and balanced serving with a steadied left hand while maintaining the other below the table. She listens to the light chatter of her educators, taking in little. In fact, she is quite positive the meal will come to a close without her speaking a single word until the doors open and the biggest man she's ever seen trudges in.

'Sorry 'am late,' he declares walking towards the table. 'Oh er 'ello,' he says noticing Altairia sitting among the adults.

'Good evening, Sir,' she responds.

'Miss Black, this is Hagrid. Our grounds keeper,' Headmaster Dumbledore tells her. Altairia can hear the fondness in his tone and wonders if her new Headmaster is very selective when choosing his staff members. At the boarding school she attended till she was eleven, her teachers never got along. They often played students off against one another for ridiculous gains – whether they were professional or personal it was not clear.

'Black, eh,' Hagrid says loudly, taking a seat on the other side of the black haired Professor next to her. 'Sirius' daughter.' Altairia's body felt stiff for the remaining half hour that food was present. When Headmaster Dumbledore told her that she would be sitting on a stool to have a magical hat placed upon her head, she almost laughed but didn't question the system in place. She walks across to a stool where Professor McGonagall now stands and takes her seat, crossing her ankles to the side and resting her hands appropriately. "Rule number seventeen, always sit like a Lady," her Mother would recite over the years when they would actually spend time together. So it was a poised sitting or ruler bruises, and Altairia knew which she preferred. Unbeknown to her educators, she tightly holds her right hand still.

It is unsettling to her as the hat is placed upon her head however it is not a second later when it shouts 'SLYTHERIN.' Altairia is uncertain of what this means for her but is conscious that Lord Malfoy and his son have admiration for Slytherin so it shall hold well in her favour. There are quiet claps from the staff table and once she stands again, she is greeted by the Headmaster; his blue eyes boring knowingly into her.

'I do wish you settle in swiftly,' he says. 'If there is anything you require; Professor Snape is your head of house.' He gestures to the man who has been sitting silently beside her during dinner. Professor Snape has sharp pasty features and shiny black hair. Altairia finds him familiar but that is impossible. She simply tells herself that it must be their mutual stoic expressions. Gazing upon him briefly as he inclines his head ever so slightly tells Altairia that he is a man not to be bothered therefore she will deal with whatever requirements on her own. She bows her head respectfully and looks to her Headmaster once more.

'Thank you.'

'Professor Snape will show you to the Slytherin common room and your dormitory.' Professor Snape stands as he speaks and walks towards the hall entrance. Altairia gazes at the back of him for a few seconds before collecting her cloak and curtsying graciously at her Professors. She makes sure her cloak is over her right arm as she treads after her head of house.

x End of Chapter One x

Author's Note: First of all, thank you for taking time to read my fan-fiction. I hope you enjoyed it. Secondly, I am open to constructive criticism; I am a genuine believer that it makes me a better writer - as long as it is constructive. If you do not like my story, there are no obligations in place that enforce you to keep reading. Lastly, I am currently looking for a beta. If you would be interested, please PM me. | SWDD |