Authors Note: This is my first story so please review! I will take flames, criticism, comments, compliments, and questions gladly! All I want is feedback. So without further ado here is my story Trix of the Trade (and yes I know tricks is spelled wrong, it is on purpose) BTW I don't own Harry Potter.
Hello, my name is Druella Bellatrix Lestrange. Everyone else in the world knows me as Trixie Black. In this book I will tell you my story, but be forewarned, it is not a pretty one. My life throughout the years was filled with revenge and betrayal. You may hate me as a character, I know that as I look back on this log (yes a log, not a diary) I certainly hate myself. Please read carefully and learn from my mistakes because the road of revenge is not for the faint of heart.
Day One
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I stared out through the glass window at the concrete garden spread out below my room. I had to keep telling myself to stay calm. I had a job to perform; there would be no use in getting excited and rushing. One small slip up and I could potentially find myself in Azkaban, or even worse St. Mungos. You see my job wasn't' easy, I had to pretend to know nothing about the wizarding world. I would not be able to access my substantial bank account at Gringotts. No, I had to play the part of a poor orphan girl who had no idea she was a witch. The hardest part was acting properly surprised, skeptic, and then delighted when Professor Longbottom had come to the orphanage.
He had arrived earlier that day to explain everything to me, and take me to Diagon Alley to buy a wand and school supplies. When I had told him my name, Trixie Black, he had acted surprised, and then frightened. I of course, playing the role of ignorant muggleborn, had to ask what was wrong. It was my last name. Thinking quickly I had to come up with the excuse, that Black was a common last name for muggles. I know it was stupid of me, but I just couldn't seem to part with my mother's entire lineage. All I had left to remember her by was the mission she had left for me. It seemed fitting for Bellatrix Lestrange (the Dark Lord's most precious servant)'s daughter to carry out this important task.
Just then, the clock chimed the hour. It was bedtime for everyone in the orphanage, but I knew wouldn't be able to sleep. There was too much at stake here, and I was excited.
The next day, I was dropped in front of King's Cross Station by a taxi hired by the orphanage. I knew where to go, Professor Longbottom had told me about the barrier in between platform nine and ten. As I was on a scholarship, I couldn't afford an owl, and had secondhand robes and books. I would remedy this later, because the daughter of Bellatrix should never have secondhand anything. All my belongings were on a metal cart that I could easily push, but it was difficult. The train station was packed with people, and I could hardly make my way through all the smelly muggle bodies. When I at last reached the barrier, it was with the utmost relief that I pushed my way through and made it to platform nine and three quarters.
There was a huge difference between this platform and all the others. Owls screeched and hooted, robes of assorted colors flapped in the breeze, and occasionally there would be a small pop as someone apparated onto the platform. I swiftly made my way to the conductor to hand in my ticket.
He looked down on me kindly and said, "Ah, a first year. Get on board and find a compartment. When the train reaches Hogwarts, you are expected to be in your robes. Your luggage will be taken off the train for you, so leave them in a compartment." With that, he hurried off to help another student control an unruly screech owl.
I hurried onto the train, dragging my trunk along with me. Students lined the hallways chatting. I had to push my way through them to reach a compartment. Inside it was roomy with big, red, cushiony benches. A window faced the platform and I pressed my nose to it, watching, and waiting. People were everywhere and I couldn't make out the face I wanted to see, and then I saw it, a face I had been taught to loathe with all my being, Harry Potter.
My head reeled and my stomach clenched. All I wanted to do at that moment was take out my wand and perform the killing curse that would rid the world of his arrogant self. My hand twitched towards my ebony wand. Then I saw him smiling, actually smiling at whom I could only suspect was his son. Harry Potter had no right to smile, no right at all, not when my mother was lying in a grave. I quickly tried to calm my breathing, but what I saw next only fueled the fire. I spotted a woman with fiery hair and brown eyes, a Weasley. I was seeing red and could barely control myself. I trembled with uncontained rage. This woman's mother had killed my mother, and it would give me the greatest pleasure to see the both of them die in the most painful way possible. I hated, loathed, detested the Weasleys, and I would do anything to make their lives miserable.
"Hey! Is this compartment free?" A low voice drawled.
Startled, I turned around. To my immediate surprise and elation, a boy my same age was standing there. He had white-blonde hair and ice blue eyes. This was my first target. This was Scorpius Malfoy.
He stared at me for several moments before I realized a reply was required. "Oh, um… Yeah this compartment is free," I stammered.
"Right then," he said. "My name's Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy."
His voice was smooth and arrogant. He flipped his blonde hair and then settled down on the bench across from me.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Um… I'm Trixie Black," I squeaked out. I was still in awe that Scorpius, my target, had chosen to sit in my compartment. Lady luck, it seemed, was in my favor. Now all I had to do was convince Scorpio that I was a kind hearted, interesting, trustworthy person. Real easy? Yeah right.
"Black eh… Are you by any chance related to Narcissa, Andromeda, or perhaps Bellatrix?"
I forced myself to take a calm breath before replying with just the right amount of bewilderment on my face. "I've never heard of those people. Are they famous?"
"You could say that they are more infamous then famous. Why do you not know of them?"
"I come from an orphanage in London. I don't know who my parents or relatives are," I replied. Scorpius studied me closely for a moment before nodding and falling silent. I didn't know what to do now. Should I engage him in conversation or just stay silent. Finally, I decided to say something that would hopefully make my alibi more plausible. "So can you tell me more about Hogwarts? Professor Longbottom didn't say much when he told me I was a witch. I still can't believe that I am you know?"
This seemed like the right thing to say because Scorpius launched into an in depth explanation of Hogwarts and all the houses. I mostly tuned him out only nodding occasionally and making noises of agreement. I knew most of everything he was telling me except for one intriguing and possibly plan ruining fact. Scorpius Malfoy didn't want to be in Slytherin.
