Epilogue
The battle wasn't going as planned. Fellow Death Eaters were dropping like flies, and Bellatrix knew she had to choose. Follow him, or save her own skin. Children, literal children were defeating them. Mudbloods were winning. How embarrassing. She frustratedly clenched her jaw, her porcelain face burning in shame. Gripping her wand, she scanned the area. A pureblood girl, with average features and plain hair, was fighting with an in-bred Weasley. She beckoned, and the girl made her way over. Casting a rather strong glamour, and putting the young Death-Eater under the Imperius Curse, the girl was now Bellatrix's pawn. But not the kind in the barbaric Wizard's chess, because if this was Wizard's chess, her head would have already been chopped clean off.
"Fight to the death. Make sure to die. If you somehow survive, I'll kill you myself. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Her own face stared back at her. Blank, eyes glazy. It was delightfully horrible. Nevermind that, the real problem was that Bellatrix had to escape. Leave no trace behind. So, she did. Minutes later Bellatrix Lestrange was declared dead.
But we all know the truth.
Bellatrix's life was literal hell. Children were annoying. Muggle children were even worse. The reason why she is in this hell? She deserted. She deserted the war twenty years ago. Merlin, has it really been that long? Sometimes she wondered how she could have ever tolerated this dirty, muggle existence. Luckily she still had a wand, granted, not hers, and the past twenty years have done very little to her….looks. Magic fixed everything. Magic fixed everything. Magic was her only constant in this world that she loathed. The Muggle world was dull, disgusting and muggles were vile. Every now and then she wishes she could strangle a Muggle child. Get it out of her system. Almost like a juice cleanse.
Was it a mistake to go into hiding? Not really. Was it stupid getting a job in this horrible world?...Yes.
But she had to get a job. This world required it. Luckily, magic could get her the things she needed for a simple teaching job. Teaching music and choir wasn't hard. Any educated pureblood knew how to sing and play instruments. Her next class seemed small, and she saw them recoil a tad when they saw her. Bella knew she has a reputation, strict, emotional and crazy. She remembered when she saw an older child whisper quite indiscreetly to another one that she was sadistic. Which is mightly rude, she thought. Bellatrix thought she acted rather nicely to the brats.
Glancing at the call sheet, she rolled her eyes. What is it with people naming their children Axel or Ryder? Bellatrix hopes the wizarding world isn't filled with these idiotic names. Knowing mudbloods, she wouldn't be surprised. At the very end, a singular name caught her eye.
Scarlett Granger-Weasley.
Looking back to the kids in her classroom, there was a child who looked like the Mudblood. Same scraggly brown hair, but with the pudgy cheeks, freckles and blue eyes of a Weasley. It disgusted her. The only reason it startled Bellatrix so much was that the girl shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be in a private teaching institute for Muggles.
Unless, no, it couldn't be. Unless the Mudblood and the Weasel made a Squib. That made her cackle internally. The girl was staring at her intently, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. From what she could remember of the Mudblood, this girl would be a brat. A disgusting half-breed, Weasley, and Mudblood mixed together.
Before she could start her stupid little presentation for the first day of school, a gleam of ruby stopped her. A rather old-fashioned necklace hung around the girl's neck. The ruby pulsed with some sort of enchantment, and she knew that something was off.
``
Hermione had to suppress the urge to give someone a very irritable call. Instead, she slowly drummed her fingers on her steering wheel. Ron was supposed to pick up Scarlett from her school an hour ago, and yet here she was, driving to the Muggle school while she had very important Ministry work to do. Pulling up to the school, she saw the familiar hunch of her daughter. Luckily, it seemed like a teacher was still there. You never knew these days, and Hermione had plenty of fears for her children. The moment Scarlett saw her car, she scowled. She said goodbye to her teacher and ran towards the car.
"You're late." She deadpanned as she entered the car. Scarlett slammed the door, making the old car rattle.
"Stop slamming the door, you know what we have-" Hermione paused. The teacher that was watching over her daughter was the spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange. She blinked, her mouth agape and memories of the certain witch flooding her mind. All she could even think about was her own screams and the witches maniacal laughter as she carved Mudblood into Hermione's arm.
"Mother?"
Her daughter's voice broke her out of her shock.
"What? Oh, okay." Hermione started the car. "Rose got into Gryffindor. Isn't that great? Al got sorted into Slytherin, which was a big surprise."
But before her daughter was able to respond, the Bellatrix doppelgänger knocked on her car window. Hermione made sure to make eye contact as she rolled the window down.
"Mrs. Granger-Weasley? I know it is only the first day of school, but we would rather have the children picked up as soon as possible. Not only for their safety but since us, the teachers have things to do." Her tone was sweet, but her body language showed more. Her face held a scowl, and her hands were white around her books.
She hasn't seen a picture of the witch in a long time. Maybe since the war, but from what Hermione could remember, this woman was her.
"Just Miss Granger, please." Hermione stuck her arm out. Unease was crawling up her skin, so palpable she thought the other woman might see it.
The woman now had a wolfish grin on her face. She grabbed her hand in a vice-like grip. Her hands were surprisingly soft and almost velvety. She only dropped it after shaking it for an extremely long time. Her coal black eyes shimmered. Was she looking for the scar?
"Just keep it in mind, Miss Granger." The chilling teacher stepped back, prompting Hermione to roll-up the window. Her hands felt shaky as she put her hand on the gear shift.
There was no way she would still be alive. Nor would she work in a Muggle school. The Bellatrix that she remembered would've scooped her eyes out with a rusty spoon rather than do that. Pressing on the gas pedal, she sped forward.
"Is that one of your teachers?" Glancing over, her daughter was blasting music from her headphones. Deafening, brash, and crude music. Something finally made her reach over and yank them off. Scarlett yelped in surprise.
"What the hell?"
"Is. That. One. Of. Your. Teachers?" Hermione irritably repeated, slowly enunciating every word.
Scarlett rolled her eyes and nodded.
"She is my music and choir teacher. Miss Ridley. Kinda weird. Some of the older kids said she murdered a kid once." Scarlett spoke, with a bored tone.
Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. She can't be teaching in a Muggle school. Hermione repeated those two sentiments as she drove them home.