Disclaimer: Wishing on every star in the sky does not make it real... In other words, I do do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. Only the girl with chestnut hair is mine.
Words: 1,708 words before author's notes.
A/N: This is for Katheren, who asked for more. Hope you enjoy Katheren!
Promises Made And Promised Broken
Fall 1966
A small second year girl walked out of the second floor lavatory. She barely stood at average height and if someone cared enough to notice, they would see how thin she was from skipping meals. Her chestnut brown hair fell a little past her shoulders in gentle waves with a stray strand falling into her red rimmed eyes.
The second year bid her only friend, the dead fourth year that haunted the second floor lavatory, good bye and headed in the direction of the Great Hall, hoping she would be able to eat something tonight and not sick up later. As she neared the end of the hall, she heard the familiar voices of the fifth and sixth year boys that had tormented her into crying in the first place. She tried to flatten herself to the wall but the boys were already turning the corner.
"Well, if it isn't our favorite little firstie, or did they actually let you into the second year classes with all the normal students?" Rudolphus Lestrange, a sixth year, questioned the small second year. At the girl's mumbled response, he sighed and slapped her harshly across the face. "You speak clearly to your betters girl!" Lestrange yelled at her.
The girl let out a whimper as she tried to pull away from the bullying prefect. Instead, Lestrange shoved her towards one of his cohorts. The fifth year prefect held onto her arms with a vice like grip as Lestrange came to stand in front of his victim.
"No running away, you know that," Lestrange whispered as he stroked the hand print he had left on the girl's face. "Now we've got to teach you another lesson." He smiled maliciously as he nodded at Dolohov and Yaxley to hold her against the wall. Lestrange started chuckling as he pulled out his wand. He tapped it against his fingertips while he debated what to do to the girl in front of him. Finally he reached a decision and raised his wand in preparation to curse the silently crying second year.
"What is going on here?" a woman yelled from the end of the corridor. The three young men turned to look down the hall at their enraged Transfiguration professor while the girl just wished she could disappear through the wall like a ghost. "Well, are one of you going to explain?" Professor McGonagall questioned the prefects. "Release Miss Maclaurin at once and pocket your wand mister Lestrange." Dolohov and Yaxley hastily released the girl's arms but she didn't move from her position against the wall.
"Professor, I can explain," Lestrange began but was cut off by a sharp look from a fourth year girl that had alerted the Professor just in time and had followed her down the corridor.
"Professor, perhaps it would be a good idea if I took the girl to see Madam Pomfrey?" the older girl asked Professor McGonagall.
"Thank you Miss Black. You three on the other hand will come with me to see your head of house and discuss just what exactly you were planning," McGonagall reprimanded the young men as she grabbed Dolohov and Yaxley by their robes and motioned with her head for Lestrange to start walking. As they were led away by the enraged Transfiguration teacher, Black slowly approached the younger girl.
"Come on," she told the girl as she tried to direct her towards the Hospital Wing with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
The gentle touch was enough to wake the girl from her shock. She moved away from Black as fast as she could and made a bee line for the haunted girls' lavatory. She was through the door before the fourth year realized her mistake. Black hurried after the younger student, mumbling non-magical curses as she went.
"Maclaurin, you need to come out," Black called through the lavatory. Listening carefully, she heard the tell-tale sniffles of the second year coming from the last stall on the left. She slowly approached the half closed door and looked inside to see the young girl sitting on the cold unforgiving stone floor with her legs drawn to her chest. Black slowly sat on the floor right next to the door so Maclaurin would see her if she moved her eyes but also so the younger girl couldn't run past her without getting caught. The second year closed her eyes as she shivered.
"Are you alright?" Black asked the younger student hesitantly. The girl didn't seem to hear her so she tried again.
The second year slowly looked at the older girl with her dark blue eyes. She tried to speak but couldn't get the words out.
"Hey, you can tell me," Black told the girl in a gentle voice. Once again the girl looked at the fourth year. She seemed to be searching for something, maybe even deceit.
"Please don't take me to the Hospital Wing," she all but mouthed.
Black looked at the girl in front of her, wondering what could keep this girl from going to the Hospital Wing even though any observant person could see she was hurting. And Bellatrix Adien Black was a very observant, albeit outspoken, individual.
Bella had made a promise to herself two years before that she would be a prefect in her fifth year, and not one of the bullying prefects but a prefect that looked out for her housemates and caught the bullies. To do this she knew she had to be good at seeing others' problems or tendencies. Bella had started watching Maclaurin a few days ago when she saw how she was looked at by her housemates, especially Lestrange. She also saw how little the girl tried to interact with her housemates and how little she would eat in the Great Hall. Perhaps there was more going on here than what Bella had seen and heard in the corridor.
"Why don't you want to go to the Hospital Wing?" Bella asked the second year quietly. She watched as the girl slowly looked at her again, the surprise at her question evident in her eyes.
"Because I don't want Madam Pomfrey to see what they do," Maclaurin finally confided. She absent mindedly rubbed her arms where Dolohov had gripped them.
"Did Dolohov hut you?" Bella questioned.
The younger student slowly nodded as she rolled up her sleeves to see if there was any bruising yet. To her dismay there were already coloring handprints on both her upper arms. At least the older bruises were almost gone now. Maclaurin looked up quickly as Bella gave a short gasp at the number of bruises, both faded and livid. The second year began to roll down her sleeves but Bella reached forward to stop her. With slow movements, the concerned fourth year pushed Maclaurin's sleeves up to her shoulders. The girl's arms were a patchwork mess of new and healing bruises. It was no wonder the girl had run when Bella touched her shoulder.
"They don't hurt so much now," the second year said as Bella sat back. "As long as I'm careful, I barely notice they're there." Again she rolled down her sleeves, being careful to avoid the newer bruises.
"Why haven't you told anyone about this?" Bella asked while already planning what Lestrange, Dolohov, and Yaxley would have to deal with. No one should be treated like this, especially by authority figures.
Maclaurin bit her lip. "Mother says it will straighten me out," she finally confided in Bella. She tugged at her sleeve to make sure it covered one of the bruises on her wrist.
"Why would your mother think you needed straightening out?" the older Slytherin inquired, thoroughly bewildered. Maclaurin bit her lip again and shook her head, not wanting to answer and loose the only person that was being nice to her. "Alright. Can I ask some other questions?" At the younger Slytherin's nod, Bella started asking more questions.
"What's your name?" was the first question.
"Maia Per-," Maia cut off with a grimace.
"What is it?" Bella asked her quietly.
"Did you want to know my whole name?" she replied. At Bella's nonchalant shrug, Maia came up with an idea. "If I tell you my full name, will you tell me yours?"
"Alright, sure. I'll go first. Bellatrix Adien Black, pleasure to meet you," Bella told the younger girl with a smile as she held out her hand.
"Pleasure to meet you too. I'm Maia Persephone Maclaurin," Maia answered as she shook the offered hand. She gave Bella a shy smile as she withdrew her hand and looked down.
"Next question then," Bella slowly adjusted her position so she was leaning against the stall. "Do you have any other friends?"
Maia shrugged with a frown as her bruises protested at the movement. "Only if ghosts count," she answered with a grin. "Myrtle, there's someone here you should meet," she called up to the ceiling.
Bella looked at the other girl, wondering if Lestrange had ever hit her on the head with more than a slap, or worse, Crucio-ed her. Maybe she would show him some of her family's favorite curses sometime soon. Her musings were interrupted by giggling coming from directly above the stall across the aisle from the Slytherins. A girl that looked her age shimmered into being as a semi-transparent ghost. On the ground, she would have stood a few inches shorter than Bella; she wore large glasses and had her hair pulled back into low pigtails.
"Myrtle, this is Bellatrix Black," Maia told the ghost as she slowly stood.
"Hello. Are you going to visit me now too?" the ghost asked Bella in a voice that suggested she had been crying before she died. At Bella's nod, the dead girl gave a shy smile and then drifted away, becoming transparent as she did.
"Will those boys hurt me if I go with you?" Bella turned to the second year in confusion. "I mean if I go to the Hospital Wing," Maia explained to the ebony haired witch.
Bella gave her an encouraging smile as she held out her hand. "They won't hurt you again, I promise." And it was a promise she kept.
A/N: I've been working on this since last May so I probably won't update this for quite a while but I promise this story will never be truly abandoned.