A/N: Well hello everyone!

I began writing this story in 2013, on a completely different site, with only my plot figured out and three chapters written. But life happened, and I'm back here with some re-edits. For all those who have already read this once. Know that the events and plot lines have not changed. Neither have the characters but the order of narrating the events has.

For all the new readers, Welcome to Tainted!

What do you do when you come across a body drenched in a pool of blood?

What do you do if that body is of a friend?

Limbs gone askew, skin bruised in a rainbow of blacks, blues and purples.

Do you scream? Do you shout? Do you cry for help? Or stay numbingly still as if death has become you by tumbling upon such a sight.

I opted for the latter. I stayed frozen in place when I saw Edward soaked in a pool of his own blood.

My world should have crashed down; anyone's should have when they see fatality this closely. But there was no roar, no scream, no crash, nothing to pull me out of my stupor, until the pool of blood drenched me when I fell to my feet by my weakened knees. That is when the tears began flowing. That is when I whimpered for help. But who would help me in such a time? Me, the abomination. Why was Ed lying in a pool of his own blood to begin with? Perhaps I should rewind a bit.

Meet me. Isabella Lestrange.

Daughter to William Lestrange.

Granddaughter to Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Yes. My middle name is my fathers. And that right there is the perfect indicator of the amount of attention I'm given in my own home. Fate dealt me a hard blow. A mother who died during child birth. A father who as the years progressed became more and more of an addict. And an Aunt. Oh yes. The sole woman who has been the bane of my existence; controlling my life on levels that my father couldn't either, ensuring at every step that I got the 'right' pureblood upbringing.

Wait. Are you listening to me only because my name scares you or are you genuinely interested? I wouldn't blame you for the latter. My grandparents left little for doubt.

With a tainted reputation (despite both my parents and myself having nothing to do with the war; the cowards hid out in Italy the whole time) and an urge to learn, eleven year old I entered Hogwarts more curious than ever. With my aunt as cunning as ever and my father's wrath just as cold, it was only natural how I forced myself to become friends with the Pureblood kids only, despite telling the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor. Yes, my bravery comes and goes at its own convenience.

By the tender age of twelve, I'd understood my aunt's facade to some extent. The friends I made weren't mine, but her spies. The maids who nursed me weren't nurturing, but meant to drill the 'decorum' deep into my bones. It was only natural that I developed trust issues, which I why I never trusted anyone wanting to be my friend at school either. I mean, come on, have you seen who my family is? It surprises me why Harry Potter hasn't made arrests right and left. It took me six years to make my peace with the fact that I could have true friends. And it took me only a moment's realisation to know I might lose one just now.

Which is why my mind raced to work out possibilities of what may have happened. He wasn't in his room. He hadn't been in his room at all. Then where was he?

I rushed out of the Head's dorm and into the corridor. Oh, did I forget to mention, he and I are head boy and girl. Where are your manners, Isabella? We live here instead of our respective Slytherin and Gryffindor 7th Year Dormitories, the Head's Dorm. It's got a common area, a kitchenette, separate bathrooms, a book shelf, a fireplace. Unnecessary privileges, I believe.

What? You think it's a shame how I mock luxuries? Well, money is only a way to mask greater transgressions. I learned this soon enough in life.

But the Head's Dorm wasn't concealing evils. It was warm and welcoming, unlike the Lestrange Manor (though having parts of it rebuilt after the war and being stripped of most of its horrors) which was the coldest, most grotesque place I had ever known.

Not tonight though; tonight the air was still and heavy in here. My mind felt fuzzy and muddled, my brain seemed to have forgotten rationality; I could not make out where to go. My feet dragged me to the Slytherin Common Room carefully dodging caretakers and prefects. Honestly, I've wandered around the castle so often at night; it is safe to say I've mastered the art of way finding in this maze of medieval madness.

I wondered whether he and Albus went there and he decided to stay in the dungeons for the night?

Half an hour and much disturbance later I found out he wasn't there either. Then where was he? Albus confirmed they both walked back together to the castle. Then where? Where did he go from there? I did not know where I should start looking from; Albus and Scorpious however joined me in helping to find him. We checked the Astonomy Tower, the Entrance Halls; it was past curfew, the library was obviously shut too. Flinch had caught us, (those two weren't as discreet as I believed) we paid no heed to the old chap. An hour had passed. All of the Slytherins had been woken up, a search team comprising of the Slytherin prefects was already looking everywhere, through empty classrooms, hidden alcoves, secret staircases, hallways. Chaos had fully erupted, spreading like a plague from the dungeons to around the castle.

In the midst of all the commotion it struck me how no teacher had made an appearance, were they drugged on the Sleeping Draught again?

Finally, Parkinson, the Slytherin House Head, emerged from her quarters; scolding everyone back into their dorms but there was still no sign of Ed.

Until Albus –with a slap to his forehead and an exasperated yelp- remembered that he was in possession of the map this week. I mentally punched him for realising that now. What? Why are you looking so shocked? Of course I know of the map, thanks to my association with you-know-who (Bloody Hell! Not Voldemort). We rushed back to the dungeons, successfully avoiding Parkinson who tried with fail to keep us calm and in bed. Albus quickly pulled out the map from his things to locate Ed; the old parchment coming to life in front of us. He searched for his dot, folding and unfolding the map, until it finally appeared. He was still at the pitch.

So naturally, that is where we had found him.

Lying in a pool of blood.

His own blood.

Beaten to a pulp, looking small and fragile.

A broom was on the ground nearby.

I don't know how long I stood, numbingly still, as I took in the sight. I fell to my knees soon enough. I felt nauseous as I registered him lying there, limbs twisted about, skin stone cold. I tried to find a pulse in his wrist. I kept my fingers firmly pressed onto his skin as I felt a faint beat drum against the tips of mine; I momentarily breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. I raised my wand to cast a patronus and inform the others not caring one bit of what they might say to us for defying their orders to stay put. Deduct those points for all I fucking care. It only produced a minuscule white spark.

'Liz? Let me.' Scorpious offered; a little terrified to pulling me out of this stupor. I saw Albus was already making his way back to the castle, out of the pitch.

'No. I can.' I answered determinedly. Scorpious tried to protest but I held up a hand to silence him.

I tried to breathe calmly and searched my mind for a strong happy memory. It took time but I was able to cast a patronus this time. The lioness spurred from my wand, prancing around, before it faded into the night. I looked back down at Ed. His other arm was twisted at an odd angle. Most of the blood seemed to be pouring out of his head though, contributing to the ever growing pool, the liquid warm and fresh. I pushed his shirt up to find his chest and abdomen covered in bruises. The side of his face seemed under similar effect, the skin there had also turned purple-blue. I took out my wand to start healing his wounds when Scorpious stopped me.

'Don't.' he protested. 'We do not know for sure if it is an accident or not. Plus, no offence, Liz, but you're in no state to be casting spells. McGonagall and Parkinson will be down soon.'

I lowered my wand. My eyes remained fixed onto Ed's motionless body until Scorpious pulled me to my feet.

'Come on.'

He silently levitated Ed into the air and started carrying him out of the pitch.

The rest seemed like a blur of images and voices. All I could look at was Ed's lifeless form lying in the hospital bed. His face was pale and his hand cold as I held it. The nurse for the night shift detached me from him and closed the curtains around his bed. Parkinson and McGonagall had reached the hospital Wing, with Albus behind them. They began asking us for our accounts of the events we had seen. We all shared the details with them. They informed us the other houses were not yet aware of the accident, they wanted to wait till morning before they made an announcement.

I do not particularly know when but somewhere along the line, Ed's parents seemed to have been informed and appeared beside us. They were now seated with me in the chairs next to his bed. Albus and Scorpious had returned to their dorms. McGonagall asked me to leave the wing as only family could be allowed to stay with him while arrangements were made to shift him to St. Mungo's. I obliged.

My feet dragged me back to the Head's dorm. Exhaustion was overtaking my senses now. The air in the dorm was still heavy. Robotically, I sat at the edge of my bed, my fingers gripping its edge as the sky outside turned from ink blue to an almost florescent palette of pinks and lilacs. I realised I didn't want to be in this room anymore; it suddenly felt much emptier and barren. The silence seemed to be screaming out at me, its volume fuelling me up with anger and remorse once more. Just when I thought I had cried all the tears left in my body, a fresh round issued. My feet dragged me around in the corridors; flashes of Ed lying in a pool of blood kept haunting me. Why? Why did he have to fall? Why was he still outside? Why? Why did he have to go flying? How could he be so reckless? I didn't want to be alone. I found myself sobbing again, my body betraying whatever commands I tried to give it. The emotions were hard to shut today, given how reminiscent they made me of a time as similarly horrible.

I was angry, I angry at him for being careless. I was angry at myself for not trying to find him earlier. I was just plain angry. Had I taken too long in finding him?

I vaguely remembered the nurse mentioning how he'd lost a lot of blood. A flash of how she had shaken her head when McGonagall asked her how bad the fall had been appeared at the back of my eyes. Will he make it? Will he be alright? What if... What if he does not wake up? My body felt heavy as I again thought back to where I had found him. I was filled with fear and rage once more. Energy coursed through my veins and I started running. My irrational brain convinced me that worrying more people and being in hysterics would somehow help. My sanity was lost on me in those moments, it seems.

McGonangall's words echoed in my mind. I did not care about the confidentiality of the matter in this moment. All of the Slytherins knew. In a matter of a few hours everyone would know anyway. This school would erupt in a new upheaval of rumours, as it always did. I did not understand the need to stay silent and I did not care. I just didn't care. My life was unfair, everything about it was; then why should I be playing fair? Following every rule?

And so I ran. I broke every decorum related norm that had been drilled into me. In retrospect, when I'd look back at this day and moment, I knew my actions were irrational and made no sense whatsoever. But I wasn't in my senses in that moment. I was awake beyond comprehension. My mind was too restless to sleep. My body coped up with its absurdity. It seemed to have a mind of its own. If it couldn't sleep, it went to do the exact opposite. Over-exert.

My crying had taken a full on hysterical mode now, though no tears flowed. Sobs wrecked through my chest. My eyes burned and my feet continued to race forward. I ran down corridors. I ran as numerous portraits shushed me up. I ran up the stairs and then down them. I ran through the portrait hole as I cried out the password and I ran up the Seventh Year Boys Dormitory stairs.

My body eventually felt drained as a reached the last step, trembling from fear, exhaustion and lack of sleep. I used the last of my remaining energy to bang the door. I kept banging its surface even though it made my fist hurt. There was only one person I wanted to see right now. Only one person whose presence might calm me.

Finally, the door opened, I came face to face with Matt as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked onto me confusedly as I pushed past him into the dorm.

I stared around the crimson room for a while. He had emerged from his four poster, the hangings left open, perched beside a bed post, legs thrown over the edge, the bare muscles in his torso tense in the dim light of the moon, gaze penetrating me through and through. I saw his vision cloud with worry and concern, palms balled into fists by his sides as his eyebrows furrowed over his intense stare. I allowed myself to lock eyes with him for only a moment. One gaze. One gaze is all it took from Potter for me to break down all over. One gaze that gave me hope and made me vulnerable. One look and my walls were infiltrated. A new burst of strength pulsed through me.

'Mike? Charlie?' I cried out. I wanted one of them to appear in front of me. Potter's head moved away as he began staring at a wall. Resignation finding its way again; buried underneath the hurt and disappointment. He remained unaware of how he had already healed a part of me. Seeing him had done that.

Everyone in the dorm seemed to have been woken up by my banging, six boys staring intently at me, some in horror, some in petrifying confusion and worry and one refusing to move his eyes from the ceiling mouldings. Is this too bad a time to point out that one way or another I was terrifying them all? I'm sure I'm making a couple of my family members happy in hell.

I saw Charlie first, standing beside his bed, his expression worrisome. Then Mike was beside me too, his hand on my shoulder. I wanted them to tell me what I knew James could not, because I could never ask him. I wanted them to tell me it will be alright. Tell me he will be fine. I looked from Mike to Charlie, I was still trying to catch my breath from all the running I had done. I turned towards Mike and stepped closer to him, I realised I could no longer stand up, it hit me how much the night really had drained me, my body wanted to rest now even though my mind was wide awake.

A frustrated scream escaped my lips as Mike's arms supported me and held me upright. My hands were balled into fists as I clutched Mike's shirt for support. The dull pain inside my chest had now become a thunderous pounding, I could no longer breathe properly. I was hyperventilating, my throat felt scratchy and my eyes dry. The tears were long gone, leaving a void behind.

'Isabella? Liz, what's wrong?' Mike held me at arm's length. 'Where are you hurt? What happened? Who did this?'

I shook my head as I looked down at my clothes. I was still wearing my uniform; the white fabric crumpled and streaked with mud and blood; Ed's blood. Every occupant in the room had their eyes fixed at me. Waiting for me to answer.

'It's not mine.' I managed to say finally, my voice was still heavy from all the crying I had done. 'It's not my blood.' I explained. A slight frown graced Mike's face.

'It's Ed's. He.. was.. He was... down... at.. at the pitch... in... in a pool of... of his own blood.' I managed to tell Mike as my voice came out muffled against his chest.

Mike held me against himself, in fear that my legs would buckle and make me fall if he let go. He escorted me out of the dorm, followed by Charlie. We went down to the common room. I saw the first rays of light start to enter it. He placed me at the sofa, waiting for an explanation as to what had happened. I told them everything.

They both sat by me as I continued staring into space ahead. My eyes felt heavy and itchy from all the crying, my cheeks must have had dried tear strains along them, my throat felt scratchy so I refrained from saying anything. I stayed numbingly still. I stayed still until Charlie started pacing around, until my body began to shiver and until Mike came back down to the common room and wrapped me in a blanket.

I stayed the same until my body caught up to its fatigued state once again and I fell asleep.

'Add the Sopophorous bean's juice now. And stir counter clockwise. Eight times.'

I numbingly followed the instructions given out to me by Emilia Heart and began stirring the potion mechanically.

This was my last class of the day. And each class during the day had brought me closer and closer to having a breakdown. Each time I had fought back tears as they threatened to spill out, masking my inner turmoil by a false display of indifference. Each time, I'd collected myself before returning back to worrying. The day had seemed to drag on ever since I had left Edward in the hospital wing, ever since McGonagall had confirmed the horrifying truth behind his accident.

I had been called in by the headmistress herself during my Herbology lesson. She asked for my memory from the night of the incident. I had placed my wand against my temple and retracted the memory into a vial for her.

Hesitantly, I asked her why she needed it. She considered my words gravely before answering.

'We have reasons to believe that Mr. Lowell was under the Imperius curse when the accident happened.'

I could only stare at the headmistress in return. An Unforgivable. That was the level they had chosen to stoop down to. The target had been miscalculated. The arrow had missed its aim, though it baffled me why. Why make Ed a pawn in this sick game of theirs? Why use him for cover? Why harm him? To the extent that would cost him his life? But I had to feign disbelief, act baffled to find the truth and confirm my previous doubts.

'Why would someone cast the Imperius curse on Edward?'

'It appears that the attack wasn't meant for Mr. Lowell. The broom we found next to him had the initials J.S.P marked onto them, the broom we believe he was flying on when he fell; the broom that was cursed to make him fall.'

I treaded through the pitch, the air was cold today, the chilly weather of the October wind was settling in.

'Why are we here James?'

I asked as he came out of the Gryffindor locker room. He held two brooms, one in each hand.

'Remember when you told me how you weren't good at flying.' I nodded.

'Well. I am about to give you your first lesson.'

James tossed one of the brooms in my direction, the shabbier one. I missed it and it fell to the ground. My attention was on James broom as I picked it back up.

'How come you get the fancier broom?' My aunt's upbringing had not fully worn off till then.

'Because it's mine.'

'Says who?' Yes, twelve year old I didn't have the soundest of arguments.

'Says me. It has my name on it. See?'

James pushed the handle of the broom under my nose for examination. My eyes caught the engraving in the wood. A simple, crisp italic font.

'J.S.P?' I asked.

' Yeah. James Sirius Potter. Mum has her initials on her broom too.'

'Wow.' Dumbstruck, I ran a finger over the expertly polished wood.

'You can practice on mine once you learn.'

I blinked as I reminisced about my first flying lesson with him.

Many had joked about my importance in his life. He cared enough to share his broom, I remember how the thought had warmed my heart back then as well.

J.S.P.

I had to find Amalthea.

I had patiently been waiting for the moment I'd find her alone. My anger was bubbling like lava inside me, hot and boiling, ready to burst.

So naturally, my wand was pointed right at her as I spotted her alone in a deserted corridor, dismissing a third year, watching the boy leave. Her back was turned towards me; I lingered around the corner until sure that the third year was out of earshot, for that's when I lost it all.

'Amalthea!' I screamed.

I waited for her to turn before I threw a hex. I do not attack behind one's back. I revenge head first. She stepped out of the way, dodging it easily. I threw another spell her way, she stepped away again, taking out her wand and pointing it in my direction, similar to how mine was pointed at her.

'What the fuck, Lestrange?' She questioned, irritated.

'You said you'd keep him safe!' I screamed back, sending another hex her way, she deflected it with her wand. 'You said it was the only way to keep him safe! Yet, the attack happened and Ed suffered!' I was bellowing now, 'I TRUSTED YOU.'

'That was before Goyle saw you chatting with Potter by the edge of the lake that night.'

Her eyes were cold, I deflated at her words.

'I tried Isabella. Even I didn't know he saw you two then.'

I lowered my wand, Amalthea did the same.

'I'm sorry.'

'How?' I took a pause, gathering myself. 'How did it happen? What exactly happened?'

'He threatened a third year to cast the Imperius. And then obliviated him and broke his wand, replacing it with another identical to it. All proof has been erased. The third year though was able to cast the curse, preyed on the wrong victim. James Potter had already left the pitch when Edward and Albus came. The third year confused the boys with one another; thought Albus was James, but still aimed wrong and cast the spell on Edward instead.'

'What about this third year?'

'I talked to him; the poor thing does not remember a word of what he had done. He's a loner; naturally, he had no friends that would have come looking for him.'

I numbingly nodded, processing all the information. A thirteen year old had almost committed murder, unknowingly, all for a petty rivalry he wasn't even aware of.

'Now what?'

'Now everyone thinks I'm protecting yours and Potter's secret relationship.' Amalthea hissed.

'What?' I asked baffled. I wasn't expecting this one.

'They saw me with you two by the lake, remember?'

'Fuck.' I wanted to pull my hair out and scream in frustration.

'Exaclty. Fuck.' Amalthea concurred.

A/N: Woah! Was that too intense a first chapter? I know I added a lot into one but I wanted to establish my plot, or I'm hoping I did. How about you let me know in the review section? :D