I'm not quite positive where I'm taking this, but most of my fics are probably going to be Harry Potter centered, involve my character Carina Black, or run into her timeline in some way, shape, or form if possible. However, I do have other stories, such as a Corpse Bride fic as well as a Pitch Perfect one called The Other Mitchell that you should check out. If all goes well with this, I'm going to delete what I have of The Time Jumper and try with this instead. In this, I suppose some characters that you know will be a bit OC, but, hey, my story. And this is also my attempt at writing with a character who has DID, or Dissociative Identity Disorder. I've done a bunch of research, but I'm not positive I've gotten it quite right yet...feedback is certainly appreciated.

Reynard Renoir had two cousins, Anais Malraux and Sam Devault. Their mothers were three English sisters who had each married a Frenchman, and each gotten pregnant around the same time; it was like fate, really.

He and his cousins had been very close for as long as he could remember, though he, being the only boy, was often the most protective of the other two. They all shared the same sharp features, pointed noses and high cheekbones, though their hair and eyes, as said, were all different. He himself had dark hair and eyes, whilst Sam had dirty blonde hair and light green eyes; Anais was the one with brown hair and strange violet eyes, which were uncommon just about everywhere. She had gotten teased for it for years.

They had had happy childhoods, needless to say, but around their seventh or eighth birthdays, things changed. There were whispers of a Dark Lord rising, and so their parents decided to homeschool them. Things worked out alright then, as well, until they didn't.

On the eighth birthday of Anais, her mother and father (Jane and Kylian) were tortured and killed; Anais had been there, hidden away in a closet, able to hear everything and see (if only partly) through the crack in the door. It had been a miracle she had not been found, had not made a sound during the whole ordeal; she did not talk about it much. They did not know who by, or why, but suspicions were that it was this Dark Lord that had been spoken of.

So, she was sent to live with Sam and her parents. However, luck was not with them, and tragedy struck again; on the twelfth birthday of Sam, her parents were murdered; "At least yours was quick," Anais often reminded her sadly.

In the end, they went to live with Reynard, whose parents Anna and Marquis decided then and there that enough was enough, and they were sending the children to Hogwarts where they would be safe. They had promised the three that they themselves would go into hiding while they were away at school, and that they would figure out why the family was being targeted; the teens could only hope they would be alright.

This was how the three fifteen-year-olds had ended up here, sitting on the Hogwarts Express together, Reynard staring out the window and Sam absently shuffling with a deck of muggle cards she had bought. Anais was laid out on her own bench, legs crossed and a book in her hands; she had been having problems since the death of her parents. She sometimes took...episodes, ones where she would not seem at all like herself and instead someone completely different. She had been like that as a child, but Sam's parents Jane and Nicholas had always assumed it was just the girl playing pretend and imagining she was another person; quiet would become loud, thoughtful would become mischievous.

Reynard and Sam had learned how to handle her by now, of course, though most of the time she was herself. They had figured out quickly by researching in some muggle books that she had something called Dissociative Identity Disorder, or Multiple Personality Disorder. When she shifted, they deemed that her other self be called Siana, which was, of course, Anais backward.

She had been fine as of late, though an episode was sure to happen sometime while they were there, and how would they explain that to everyone asking questions?

Anais knew, of course; she sometimes even muttered "yes" or "no" or "No, we can't do that" or things of that sort to herself in response to something her alter happened to be suggesting. More often than not, though (as Siana's ideas got her into a spot of trouble or two), the answer was no, and she would stop talking altogether.

It was difficult for all of them, but they managed.

"So," Reynard attempted to strike up a conversation, wishing to get out of his head and stop worrying for a few moments. He had been extremely concerned for his parents, who he did not want to end up like his aunts and uncles, and did not want to think about that right now. "what house do you want to be in?"

"I say Gryffindor," said Sam, who stopped fiddling with her cards and put them in her robe pocket. "Seems to be the most interesting, doesn't it?"

"I was thinking more like Slytherin," but nevertheless, Reynard shrugged. "House of the cunning and ambitious and all that. Besides, I heard their common room is in the dungeon and that sounds pretty wicked."

"I'd prefer Ravenclaw," Anais offered quietly, before she paused and her eyes fell upon the book in her hands. It took a moment before she spoke again, "Siana would rather it be Gryffindor."

"She can stuff it," Sam reached over and poked Anais on the temple; the girl smiled briefly.

"I'm not repeating what she said back."

The blonde huffed. "Because it was mean, wasn't it? She never liked me much."

The brunette merely smiled again and leaned back, closing her eyes. "No, not much. She likes to rile you up. Be happy it's me right now."

"It doesn't matter who it is," Reynard intervened. "because you're our cousin, all of you. Doesn't matter how many of you are in there."

Anais did not speak, but he knew she had heard, for she always did. She continued to rest her eyes, however, and listen.

"At least it's somewhere new," Sam propped her chin up on her hand, elbow perched on her knee. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "I'd really rather not be...well, you know. Things don't go well for 'Nias and I."

He knew what she meant. She and Anais had long ago concluded that they must be bad luck, and that was why their own parents had gone the way they did; they did not want to do the same to their aunt and uncle. He had been unable to convince them otherwise, and Siana was no help, despite the fact that she agreed with him; his cousins were stubborn.

"Well…" Reynard could think of nothing else to say to that, and was almost glad when the compartment door slid open to reveal three girls, one older than them, one their age, and one younger. The older had a wild mass of black curls and brown eyes, while the middle had shining blonde hair (pure, not tainted with other colors like Sam's) and gray eyes. The last girl had long, wavy, dark brown hair, and the same gray eyes as (presumably) her sister. You could tell they were related, despite their few differing features. "Er, can we help you?"

"You're the new ones, correct?" the oldest girl said stiffly.

"Yes," Sam responded, eyeing her. "Why?"

Anais's violet eyes had snapped open at the arrival of their visitors, and she was now sitting up, cross-legged, and watching warily.

"Our parents wished for us to pass along a message," the oldest girl paused, and her eyes fell upon Reynard, voice deathly serious. "You will have no one left soon."

"They're the ones doing this?" came the soft voice of Anais, and the older teen's head snapped around to regard her.

"No!" she said vehemently. "I simply came to pass along a message, and there it is. Soon, your entire family will be dead and there will be no one left but the three of you!"

Narrowed violet eyes followed her every move, and then, the brunette dove for the teen, only to be jerked back by Sam, who wrestled with her for a moment before pinning her arms behind her back.

"No, Anais!" Sam hissed.

"I want to kill her!" his youngest cousin all but snarled, and it was then that the two knew that this was not her, and Reynard knew he should have seen it coming. A situation like this happening would rile them all up, but at least he and Sam had a chance at keeping their tempers; when it came to Anais and Siana, that was not the case, not with the latter being there. "Her and her family! She lies, she's lying—" she struggled against her blonde cousin, before screaming in French, "Laissez-moi aller cet instant ou je jure que je vais—"

"You won't do anything," Sam spoke instead in English, grunting when she received a kick to the shin. "Siana, stop!"

"What the bloody hell is going on?" the youngest of their visitors muttered, glancing between them all. The oldest had stepped before the other two, teeth bared and wand out, prepared to attack, but Reynard was quick to intervene. He did not want any trouble when he knew they could not take on the oldest witch, much less all three at once.

"Don't hurt her," he said desperately. "It's not—that's not Anais—"

"The who is she, then?" the middle girl, the blonde, said sharply. "Because it certainly doesn't look like she changed her form to that of someone else."

"She's got a problem," Reynard held out his hands swallowing hard. "A disorder. That's all you need to know. Just, please, leave. We'll handle her."

"So she's mental?" the oldest girl actually laughed. "Oh, that's rich. What's wrong with her, can't stand not being with Mummy and Daddy?"

"Bellatrix!" the youngest girl scolded furiously. "Stop. Let's just go, alright? They've got it in hand, and we need to get back, before…"

The oldest, Bellatrix, stopped laughing abruptly and slowly, warily, lowered her wand. She eyed Siana, then Sam, and finally Reynard, before tipping her head in a small nod and sweeping from the compartment.

The blonde followed, but the youngest hung back, if only for a moment, to offer, "I'm Andromeda Black. Those were my sisters, Narcissa and Bellatrix. Don't mind that they're rather rough around the edges; we've not had such a good time, either."

With those words and a call from behind, Andromeda Black turned on her heel and slipped away; Reynard shut the compartment door behind her.

"Should have let me kill them," Siana muttered angrily, slumping in her seat beside Sam. "I bet their family are the ones who offed your parents. My parents."

Though they were different, she and Anais had always had one thing in common—the love for their parents. Parents who had been dead for a long time, actually.

"Anais would have been devastated if she'd come back to find she'd killed someone," Sam reminded, scowling. "You know that."

"She was angry, too, and you know it."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean she didn't try to hold it in before you took over, wand blazing!"

"Didn't even have a wand," Siana huffed and crossed her arms, turning her head. She was sulking. "Didn't draw it. Was gonna kill her with my bare hands if I had to."

"Let her back," Reynard said tiredly, sitting back down and running his hands through his hair. "Your temper will get the two of you killed one day."

The brunette snorted and looked out the window. "Whatever. Like I'd let anyone kill us."

He sighed, and from the straighter posture and primly crossed legs of his cousin, he knew that Siana was not ready to give control back just yet.

Sam leaned back in her seat with a groan.

~~~xxx~~~

Siana leaned over the edge of the boat, rocking it as she peered over into the water; the one nervous first year they shared it with squeaked, eyes wide.

"There's a squid in there somewhere," the girl whispered, her own eyes staring down at the water as though transfixed. "A giant one. And merpeople. Think I could learn mermish?"

"If you tried," conceded Reynard, happy that her previous anger had dissipated. He yelped when the boat rocked again and hastily leaned the other way to steady it. "Oi, get back in the boat before you send us over, will you?"

"Oops," Siana turned to flash him a toothy grin, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Is the poor Rey-Rey scared of falling into the water?"

"Anyone would be, if they couldn't swim," Sam remarked, reaching over to trail her fingers through the water. The little first year boy beside her looked positively terrified as the boat lurched again at her action. She glanced at him, looking a bit guilty. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't thinking."

A tentacle reached up and snaked around the arm of Siana, who grinned and breathed, "Wicked!" as she stroked it. Then, every so slowly, much to the horror of the first year beside them, two large eyes peeked up out of the water and blinked at them.

Reynard felt Sam seize his hand, her own eyes wide as she stared at it, and he was nearly positive that the first year in the boat had soiled himself.

"I like you," Siana told the squid, and leaned over to pat the top of its slimy head. "We're gonna be friends, alright?" It only blinked at her again, retracted its tentacle, and sank back into the water, unable to be seen; the girl looked satisfied. "Think that was a yes. Anyhow—" She stopped suddenly and pressed a hand to her temple, hissing in pain. "Argh! Why can't I experience the sorting?"

There was a pause.

"I don't care if you're the host, this has to be fun for me, too!"

Another pause. "You wouldn't."

A third moment of silence. "Okay, you would, I'm going, Merlin…"

As the boat moved along, Siana closed her eyes and reopened them as Anais (no more than a blink), who wiped her arm disgustedly on Reynard's robe.

"Hey!" he protested as they reached the shore, though nevertheless clambered out and helped his cousins out as well. The poor little first year boy could not get away from them fast enough.

"What did you say to make her leave so quickly?" Sam asked as they followed a stern looking witch, Professor McGonagall, into the entrance hall. They towered over the first years, who were all eyeing them warily and had given them a wide berth the moment they got off the boat. "Normally she'd argue more."

"I told her I'd shove her to the frontlines and let her listen to all the lectures we get in class," Anais replied, and with her naturally quiet voice and the loud chattering of the eager children around them, Reynard and Sam had to huddle closer. "Needless to say, she bolted."

"Good one," Sam laughed, and they turned their attention to the sorting when the professor came back.

Reynard, needless to say, did not pay attention to any of the names before, between, or after theirs, too anxious about their own sorting to care.

First up came Sam.

"Devault, Sam!"

The blonde glanced back at her cousins and plopped down on the stool. The hat had barely been lowered onto her head before it screamed, "Gryffindor!"

She looked immensely satisfied with herself as she made her way to the table, though she did turn her head amidst the congratulations, catch her cousins' eyes, and mouth, It'll be fine.

I hope so, he thought.

"Malraux, Anais!"

Anais slipped her hand from Reynard's (when had she grabbed his hand?) and carefully ambled her way up to the stool, perching herself just on the edge, as though she were ready to take off at any moment. There was a long silence, one that lasted at least two minutes or more, and Reynard felt his anxiety building; Anais herself fidgeted uneasily on the stool, lips moving silently.

He could only guess the mental battle going on right now, and he did not envy her for it; in fact, he felt bad that he could not help.

However, after the longest time, the hat finally, exasperatedly, called out, "Ravenclaw!"

The relief on Anais's face was obvious as she ripped the hat from her head, handed it to Professor McGonagall, and made a mad dash for the Ravenclaw table. Nearly everyone there was clapping politely and congratulating her, but when it stopped, they were staring at her as though she were a bug under a microscope, so to speak.

"Renoir, Reynard!"

His attention was ripped away from his youngest cousin when his name was called, and he strode up as confidently as he could manage and sat on the stool; however, his shaking hands gave him away as the hat was placed on his head and covered his eyes.

"Your cousin was a hard one," the hat whispered. "Her second fought quite furiously for Gryffindor, but as Anais's name was called, she got the final say. I do believe she'll have a headache later—be sure to call for a House Elf and have them send a potion from the infirmary up to her."

Thank you, Reynard thought back, wincing in sympathy at the mental lashing Anais was surely receiving now; oh well. Siana would get over it eventually—she always did.

"You're welcome. Now, let me see...you're certainly no Slytherin, you know, no matter how partial you are to it. Not Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, either. No, I think you'd be best suited for HUFFLEPUFF!"

As the hat was removed from his head, Reynard made his way to the Hufflepuff table, which was cheering loudly, in a daze. He had had a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that, perhaps, he might not even be sorted at all; it occurred to him now that he should have been more worried about Anais in that aspect.

However, he seated himself between his new housemates and cast his cousins a smile, which they (earnestly and contentedly respectively) returned.

~~~xxx~~~

Anais ran into Bellatrix Black the next day when getting lost on the way to her Potions class, which she shared with the Slytherins. If she shared it with the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs, it would have been much easier to just follow her cousins, but right now, she had no idea where she was going or what she was doing.

Siana was not helping.

Go left, she suggested. Or right. Or left again. Or you could go straight. Or just go back to the Great Hall. Maybe send off sparks?

"I already tried all that," Anais muttered. "Remember? Your advice is the reason I'm here in the first place.

Shouldn't have let me take over, then. She could see in her mind's eye Siana crossing her arms defensively.

"I thought you knew where you were leading us."

Well. You thought wrong.

"Shut up."

"Little Mad Malraux is talking to herself now?" came a mocking voice, and Anais whirled to see the older girl from on the train, Bellatrix Black, standing only a few feet away. "How sweet. Got an imaginary friend?"

Anais did not speak, merely looked away. She had had her first class with Reynard, and it was in Transfiguration that he had told her what Siana did yesterday. To be quite frank, she even remembered some of it; the blinding anger, the fuzzy snatches of furious screaming. She was positive the older girl hated her now, possibly even more than she had (if she did at all) after the incident.

A flash of Siana's anger hit her, and she clenched her jaw. You heard that warning she gave us. Her family are probably the ones behind the whole thing, followers of that stupid Dark Lord Voldy-whatsit!

Voldemort, the brunette thought back. She doubted it, though. The girl had so furiously denied it, so immediately, that it had to be true. However, that did not mean that they did not know about it or had warned her out of a sense of kindness; she had a feeling they supported the Dark Lord and what he stood for, and were happy to be rid of her entire family, who, from her memory, refused to join a side.

"I was talking to you," Bellatrix spoke again, and she eyed her, wand out. Anais did not bother reaching for her own; she could never have defended herself from a witch such as this, who radiated power, no matter how extensive her homeschooling had been. The older witch circled her. "What're you doing out here all alone, Malraux? Should be in class, you should; perhaps I ought to report you if you're skipping."

"I'm not," Anais finally defended. "I got lost. And I wasn't…" She faltered, "I wasn't talking to myself. I was…"

"Talking to yourself." Bellatrix nodded as if that was what the younger teen had said all along, wand tapping her chin as she finally came to a halt. "Going to kill me now, while you've got me? Going to go after my sisters next?"

"Wasn't me," the brunette looked away, turning her attention to the floor beside her.

"Ah, yes," the raven haired witch tossed her head. "The disorder. What is it? Are you just mad, or is there something really wrong with you?"

Anais shrugged.

"Come on," Bellatrix advanced, and her wand twirled between her fingers. Her voice was low and commanding, however, not particularly sweet like anyone else would have used to get what they wanted in this situation. "Tell me."

"So you can use it against me?"

"And who said I'd do that?"

"It's a high probability. Why do you want to know?"

Bellatrix snorted and rolled her eyes. "Call it curiosity, brat. Now, are you going to tell me what I want, or what?"

"What do I get out of it?" Anais watched her, knowing it was a daring move, and she could feel Siana's approval at her words.

The Slytherin scoffed at her. "You don't get cursed."

"Show me to my class," the Ravenclaw folded her hands behind her back. "That's all I want. I'll tell you about it, then. Only then. In the meantime, feel free to curse me however much you want—I'm not telling."

"Incorrigible little bugger, aren't you?" Bellatrix's brown eyes gleamed as she took another step closer, but, to the girl's surprise, put her wand away and straightened, jerking her chin. "Come on. What've you got?"

Anais knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how much Siana kept vehemently repeating, We can find another way there, don't you dare follow her, don't—

Anais tuned her out, though she still had a pounding headache from her alter's constant lashing out over being placed in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. "Potions."

"Fine." Bellatrix turned on her heel and stalked away, mass of curls flying behind her, and the younger teen had no choice but to follow.