So this is my first ever attempt at fanfiction! Eeep. I won't ask you to be nice, simply honest. If you don't like it, I'm okay with that. Bear in mind that any help with grammatical mistakes will be most welcome.
To begin: I own nothing but my OC, Marcella. The plot bunny that gnawed away at me until I wrote this is technically mine, but I'm sure there are other, better versions of this kind of thing floating around. I haven't read any, so feel free to send me links!
Harry Potter and the Pure Blood Princess
"Mother, you cannot be serious!" Marcella stared at the woman standing before her, as if she did not know her at all. "What do you mean, why can I not stay and be taught at home? Why now? Mother," she felt wary of the look she was being given, "what has happened?"
Bellatrix regarded her daughter. Yes, she could tell her. "The Dark Lord has given me more responsibilities now, and I no longer have enough time to teach you what you need to know, in order to follow my footsteps. You must go to Hogwarts, and excel at your studies, if only for the sake of your family name."
"That is not all, is it?" the girl challenged back. "There is something else. Oh please, if there is something which I must do to help, only tell me and it is done. You know me, you can trust me." Her own dark eyes implored to her mother's similar ones, which refused to soften.
"I only just got you back…" the girl continued, then realised her cold mother would not appreciate a reminder of those lost years. "I mean, I have managed myself for 15 years now, with very little help. Why must I go to Hogwarts now, with only two years left? And how could they accept me, knowing who I am?"
"What do you mean "knowing who I am"? You are a Black, a Lestrange, a –" she paused. "But yes, they will accept you as an orphan, raised by the Stones, without your true last name. Severus," here her face had a pained look, "has convinced the authorities to let you in Slytherin, without trial. Although why anyone would doubt your membership to that house, not by blood alone, I have no idea."
The teenager looked pleased at this. To her mother, the attributes of a Slytherin were the only attributes worth having. Yet there was still something her mother was not revealing, something important. "You know I can teach myself, there is another reason, is there not? Tell me. If it is something I have to do, you only have to ask."
Bellatrix hesitated. On the one hand, she wanted her daughter to prove herself, but on the other, she was not sure how far the girl's part could go. An explanation was needed either way. "Sit down." Her daughter hovered for a second; unsure about why the older woman was so reluctant. She waited. Eventually the story began.
"There is a boy at Hogwarts, the same age as you, who has been entrusted with a specific task by the Dark Lord. Only last night, Severus made a promise to look after the boy, but I do not trust him. As no one knows of your existence, you would be the perfect spy. Will you help him, without ever telling anyone who you really are?"
She knew the answer before the girl spoke. "Of course. Anything to help you and my future Lord. Who is the boy? What is the task?"
The explanation had given enough already. "His name is Draco, but I cannot tell you what he must do. I can only tell you to give him what help he asks for, however strange it might seem. His family is very close to the Dark Lord, and his failure would not be tolerated. Now, go to bed, we have to get your school things in the morning. Term starts on Monday."
The girl repressed a shudder at the word "school", and went about her nightly routine. As she cast the extra concealment charms around her room, her thoughts wandered to something her mother had said earlier: "no one knows of your existence". The situation was a strange one, true enough, and as she lay in bed, the memories of finding out who she was came flying back to her.
It was the morning of her fifteenth birthday, and her adoptive father, Mr Stone, turned to her at the breakfast table, laughing. This was an odd sight indeed, for he was exactly like his surname implied, cold and hard-hearted. He had a letter in his hand, which he handed to her. She scanned the contents and then looked at him, unsure of what to say. The basic idea was that her birth mother was ready to make contact. No one knew who she was, so the only guess was that he was laughing at the timing, as only the night before, she had wondered aloud if she would ever find out her identity. The mystery of Marcella would finally be solved.
The instructions were simple: someone, preferably Mr Stone would apparate with her to a specified place, then leave. If it had been any other child, he would not even have considered abandoning them, yet this girl was gifted, particularly in defensive charms. Being associates with Death Eaters, it would come as no surprise if the letter turned out to be a trap, yet few were able to get past her shields. He would return to the same spot two hours later to collect her. Nothing about the arrangement seemed unusual to the girl herself. She was more than used to it by now, for the few things which her mother had made sure of were that her daughter was raised by a pureblood family with connections to Death Eaters, but not members themselves, that she was home schooled, and that Marcella was to be her name.
It was only now that she knew she was soon to get answers did she realise how many questions she had, but the one which felt ready to burst from her already was "why". Why was she given away? Why was this specific lifestyle chosen for her? And why were her protective charms her best ones? She was sure that was inherited somehow, and she would find out that very night.
Just before Mr Stone left her in the dark country lane, she cast the strongest shields she knew around herself. She was taking no risks with her own life, other lives, they were disposable. She sat down on a flat topped boulder and waited. After a few minutes, the pop of an apparition was heard. Her curiosity was stamped out, as she saw the face of a woman from an article in the Daily Prophet only a few weeks ago. She recognised her as Bellatrix Lestrange, a powerful, devoted Death Eater. She was suddenly very aware that this woman would certainly break her charm, but it was too late to hide. She froze as dark eyes stared at her. They were the exact same as her own, as was the long, dark hair, and they even shared similar noses. Seeing her now, there was no doubt that they were mother and daughter.
"So you are my mother." Not a question, only a statement. There were enough queries without asking the obvious. Before a response could be given, she blurted out "Why is my name Marcella? Is it a family name?"
Bellatrix was stunned: out of everything she could ask, she asks about her name first? At least it was the one she had chosen herself. She remembered that they would be there for the next two hours, and went to sit by her daughter. She was impressed to find that there was a shield extending out a metre from the boulder. The girl was about to drop it, when the woman shook her head. An urge to see how strong it was took hold of her. A few simple charms did nothing, yet at fifteen that was expected. The intensity of the spells increased, until a rather nasty gash appeared on the road nest to the rock. Still, to hold off that amount of hexes was intriguing at that age. She sat down.
When the silence became too awkward, Marcella explained "Shields are my best charm. I like the independence they can give you. They make me feel safe, as if I do not need to keep a constant eye on everything around me…" She waited. Her mother said nothing. "I saw your photograph in the newspaper a few weeks ago. It said you had a husband. Why is he not here?"
The mention of him startled Bellatrix; of course the child would assume he was her father. Not all of that could be told now, but she finally realised how precious these minutes were, to both of them. Once she started talking, it was almost impossible to stop, which for her was a strange experience.
"Rodolphus is not your father," she confessed. She held up her hand to stop interruptions. "That part of the story is best kept for another day, until we know enough about each other. By now, you probably know why I could not look after you, and why I had you put into the care of the Stones. I could not risk letting Death Eaters look after you, in case they were caught. Marcella is your name, as mine means "warrior", and yours means "young warrior". I had hoped you would someday follow my lead. You looked so much like me, I could see you as a tiny version of myself, and at that point, I was ready to look after you. When we were caught by the Aurors, I was able to make arrangements for you. I blame Bartemius junior for all of those years, but for my Lord, I would have served twice as long. The thought of my own flesh and blood, of you, kept me somewhat sane. Rodolphus lost his mind completely after only a few weeks, and even now, I have no idea how his body is still going. My marriage," here she sounded bitter at the concept, "was one of convenience. My very own mother sold me off like a slave to another pure blood family. There was never any love lost between my husband and me. We were apart so often, and he is so lost that I doubt he evens know I have a child. Then again, almost no one knew I was pregnant. The Dark Lord was the only person I told, and that was only so that I could stay safe for your sake. If anyone else knows, it is only because he saw fit to tell them. Not even my family knows I have a daughter. I realised that until you were old enough to bear it, you would not need to be known as Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter. What would life have been like for you if people had known who you are? As far as I know, the Stones do not know either, so if this could be our secret, I think it could work to both our advantages." She stopped, waiting for some form of response. Marcella looked indifferent. She was doing what she always did when she did not want to show emotion, just a blank face and no words to give her away. She nodded at her mother in acquiescence.
The only question that remained was where the girl was to live now. They could find somewhere to live, if she wanted, or she could stay where she had been for the past fifteen years. She could not bring herself to make any sudden decisions, as she never did. A week to think about it was agreed upon. They would do the same thing as they had done that night, and if she was willing to live with Bellatrix, she would bring her belongings with her. The prospect of finally having a family, however small, was thrilling to her, but at the same time, this woman was a cold-blooded killer, completely devoted to a man who, if the rumours were true, was more dead than alive. The question of how so many Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban burned inside her, but she held her tongue. If, by the end of the week, they were living together, she would ask those sorts of questions then.
Marcella recalled how she returned home, and how she refused to tell her "parents" who her biological mother was. They were not surprised that she was given the choice of leaving them, and told her in no uncertain terms that they would not press her to stay or go. It was completely her own decision, which suited her perfectly. She had always been an independent child, simply give her the books and she would teach herself, give her the puzzle and she would figure it out alone, and even from the age of three she was dressing herself and choosing her own robes. There were no other children in the house to play with, and Mr and Mrs Stone both worked long hours at the Ministry; so really, there was no other way for her to turn out. They cared for her in their own way, a roof was put over her head, food was on the table, educational textbooks were provided, so she had everything except time with them. But this was not resented, she appreciated them, but her emotional ties went no further. Perhaps that was partly why it took her only two days to completely decide upon moving to live with her mother.
At first, it was difficult for both of them to trust the other, and know how to act around them. Bellatrix was seldom home, which suited Marcella just fine. They lived in a small house in the middle of nowhere, so there were no neighbours of either muggle or magic blood to notice their sometimes strange behaviour. It was understood by both that there was no need to draw attention to themselves. Occasionally they talked about what was happening in the outside world, as they had the Daily Prophet delivered under the girl's name. Marcella soon found out that the Dark Lord was truly back, and it was thanks to him that she had her mother. Along with being raised on respect for his name, it was evident that she would join him when she became of age.
But firstly, she had to go through with the exams which her old carers had set for her. She visited them for long enough to take her OWLs, then left again. They asked no questions, for they knew there would be no answers. She returned for the last time only a few weeks earlier to collect her results. She felt as though she could have done better in some, yet her seven "Outstanding" and four "Exceeds Expectations" grades were satisfactory to Bellatrix. And now, at the prospect of going to Hogwarts, she remembered that she would need to decide on her NEWTs soon.
In the morning, a list was made out of what Marcella would need, and she set off for Diagon Alley alone. The paperwork for school was sent through the Stones, and she had applied for seven subjects: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Defence against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Astronomy. For some of them, all she needed was textbooks, while for others; she needed what seemed like a mountain of equipment.
It was Saturday; the train would leave the next day to drag her away to a new lifestyle yet again, so she took her time, revelling in the freedom of being able to walk down the streets at her leisure. Granted, she saw posters everywhere of her mother's face, along with what she referred to as her "work colleagues", and people looked nervous to stall for more than a few seconds. The only place which appeared to have any life about it was a joke shop. Tacky, she thought, and tactless too. Posters mocking her allegiance were spread across the brightly coloured window displays, dissuading her from entering. She was above petty pranks anyway.
A quick visit to Borgin and Burkes before she left was mandatory, the wares always held some sort of fascination for her, and whichever attendant was behind the till was always pleased to see her, and general conversation about this necklace or that skull was engaged often enough. Nothing caught her eye at the time, so she left just as a pale blonde boy, looking as though he did not want to be seen, entered. She took no notice, for if he did not want attention, she would not give it to him. Walking back up, she could have sworn she heard voices muttering in the air. However, she was in Knockturn Alley, and she had heard stranger things there many times before. She collected her uniform, including the silver and green tie, and returned home. There was a lot of work to be done before she left in the morning.
She spent most of the afternoon packing her clothes and school things into a wooden trunk, painted black, with her first name engraved on top. She enjoyed tracing the hollowed out letters, it made it feel more like it was her own property, like she had branded it. That was something she did often when she was bored or nervous, she would write her name on spare parchment, carve it into surfaces, or even use her long nails to trace into her palms. She cast her eyes around her bedroom, and summoned various objects, candles, her jewellery box, books, along with the remaining clothes folded on her bed. There would be no need for goodbyes before she left for the train, as her mother would not be there. She had to leave that evening on urgent business, so the girl had her last night at home to herself. It gave her a chance to let go of any regrets she had while she was there, Hogwarts was a fresh start, like Bellatrix had said. It was easy for her to leave, having no emotional ties to the place.
The next morning, she shrank her trunk to the size of a shoe box, and flooed to the station. She was ready to go, and without a backwards glance, she stepped onto the train. Her mission was clear, and that was all the information she needed.
Part II
Marcella was on her way, to what she did not know. Having never been to school before, she had no ideas about how to act, what to do, or what living with so many other people would be like. She strode along the corridor, stopping to enter an empty compartment. Taking a book out of her still tiny trunk, she spent the entire journey alone, just as she liked it. A few times, people came into the room, but seeing her unfamiliar face coupled with a Slytherin crest stopped them from staying too long. She did not expect anyone to be stupid enough to try and talk to her, as she knew quite well that the aura of hostility around her was not their imaginations. With her dark features, prominent cheekbones and cold stare, she was not an approachable person in general. It would be tolerable if the year continued like this for her.
The coach ride up to the school was slightly amusing. She managed to jump into one just before it took off, silencing the chatty second year Hufflepuffs inside. Her book was still in her hand, so she was able to occupy herself, while the others looked at each other with wary glances at her, when they thought she could not see them. She was the first to disembark when the carriage stopped.
For the first time in her life, she was forced to follow a crowd, as she did not know where to go. Somehow, in amongst all of the other students, a teacher with sallow skin and dark hair was able to find her, pulling her to one side. She could tell immediately who he was, and regarded him silently. He spoke in a low voice. "I have had to make some very special arrangements for you. I believe you know who made the request for you to come here, and although I do not question him, I will make these next two years painful for you if you draw unwanted attention to yourself or me."
The girl tried not to laugh; did he think she wished for attention? "Of course, Severus, whatever you say. Now where do I have to go?" She tried to brush past him, as he had cornered her against the cold stone wall.
He grabbed her arm. "Firstly, you will address all staff as "sir", "miss" or "professor". Secondly, have some respect for the chain of authority, including my position as your Head of House. And thirdly, when you enter those doors, sit at the first table you reach. After the feast, you have to come to my office. The headmaster wishes to talk to you in the morning, and it seems that I need to instruct you on how to behave."
Marcella did not see anything wrong with her behaviour, yet apparently she did not have a choice. He was giving her the opportunity to ask questions about the next two years of her life, and she was going to make full use of that time. Following the crowd of students, she did as instructed, sitting down at the end of the table. As expected, she was not spoken to, only looked at curiously. She ate silently, observing her fellow Slytherins with mild interest. It was interesting to watch them interact, as they clearly were not on good terms with the rest of the school, and she could see why. The different conversation she heard almost all contained some sort of insult aimed at one of the other houses, or about what trouble they got into over the summer. Once it was evident that she had no interest in talking with any of them, the other students eventually ceased to look at her.
At one point, a dark haired boy sped past the table, clearly not wanting to be seen. From what she could make out, it was the famous Harry Potter, the one boy she was keen to avoid, for the obvious reason that, although he clearly would not know it, they were enemies. Not long after, the headmaster stood up again. She had decided that she could respect him as a powerful wizard, yet at the same time, had no desire to like him as a person. When he dismissed the pupils, she had barely stood up and Snape was standing behind her. They exchanged a look and she followed him, to his office as she came to learn.
"Now, although the Dark Lord was asked not to reveal your parentage, I know that until recently, the Stones were indeed your adoptive your parents. I also know that you live with your birth mother. Miss Stone, who is your mother?" He studied her carefully, and surely enough, she felt a sensation that Bellatrix had warned her against. Rather than making it seem like she was blocking his occlumency, she fixed her thoughts on her adoptive mother. He gave up after a few moments. "I see you are not willing to give up your secrets easily. Sit down." She resented being ordered around, but then remembered that this was how it would be like for months to come. She sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, and rather than taking his own seat, Snape perched himself at the edge of his desk, directly in front of her.
"Breakfast is served from 8 every morning. Classes begin at 9; lunch is then from 12 until 1. Classes in the afternoon run from 1 until 4. Dinner lasts until 5. You will spend most of your time in your dormitory or common room. Students are obliged to not be wandering around the corridors after 10. Do you understand?" She nodded once. "After breakfast tomorrow morning, I am distributing all sixth and seventh year Slytherins with their timetables. I suggest you find out who is in which of your chosen subjects, and accompany them to class until you know your way around." He leaned further towards her, looming over her disinterested face. "If you ever need any assistance, my office door is always open to any pupil from my house, especially the older ones." His eyes finally left her own, instead looking her over.
Marcella ignored the scrutiny. "Are you insinuating something, sir?" She asked the question with a raised eyebrow.
He appeared momentarily shocked, as if he had not realised what he had just said, but recovered quickly. "Only that sometimes it is the older, rather than the younger students, who have more difficulties." He stood up, and striding over to the door, he motioned for her to follow. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and went along to her common room. She made a mental note of how to reach the office from there, and vowed to avoid that corridor.
Stepping inside, she glanced around. She remembered her mother telling her that all the girls from the same year group had to share a room, so she took a guess at who she thought may be the same age as her. Strolling up to the armchairs by the fire, she addressed a pale blond girl, who did not appear to be pleased to be interrupted in her conversation with a few other girls, who looked much younger than herself. Marcella decided she ought to be polite, enemies could be made later. "Excuse me, but are you in sixth year? This is my first day here, and I do not know where my dormitory is." The other girls sniggered, and the one on the receiving end of the question looked annoyed.
"Yes I am, but who is asking?" She eyed Marcella, trying to make out if she was a threat to her or not.
"Marcella Stone. And you are…?"
"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. Go down the left staircase, and it is the room at the very bottom. Now if you do not mind…" She continued talking to the other girls, and seemingly forgot that Marcella was there at all.
Walking away, she thought to herself that at least she got an answer out of the girl. Her miniscule trunk was sitting on top of her bed, which she then returned to its normal size. She could not bear to be in the uniform longer than necessary, so she changed into one of her many t-shirts with a skull motif on front, and a pair of loose jeans which sat low on her hips. She was relieved to be able to dress however she wanted when she moved away from the Stones' house. They used to make her wear matching sweater and skirt combinations constantly, which irritated her. When Bellatrix saw her clothes, she promptly told her to burn the lot and buy more appropriate clothes. Marcella found that muggle clothes, denim and leather items in particular, appealed to her. They were the only things from the muggle world that she would admit she liked. Her mother approved of her daughter's fondness for black, although could never understand why she hated robes so much. Robes were fine every once in a while, or if they were necessary, but jeans were much easier to move in.
She unpacked and collapsed onto the four-poster bed. Her thick dark hair splayed across the emerald material of the pillow. After only a few minutes of lying still, she could take it no longer. Sitting up, she practised opening and closing the curtains, summoning her belongings and snooping around her roommates' things. Nothing interesting was to be found. By the time someone came into the room, she had conjured a snake out of a piece of rope, and was watching it slither around her limbs and through her hair. She glanced up when she heard the door open, and immediately turned her attention back to the toy.
The other girl spoke. "I saw you talking to Pansy earlier. You're Marcella, right? I'm Daphne Greengrass. Did you bring that snake with you?" She looked wary, as she knew it would be impossible to get the animal into the school.
There was silence for a while, finally a response was given. "No, I made him. It is only a toy, a piece of rope. Do you want to see him? He will not bite," she explained with a grin. She may as well be friendly with some of the others. Daphne walked over to inspect the animal. Soon he was entwined in her fingers, as Marcella explained the charm. "And a simple finite incantatem will stop it." Surely enough, a length of rope fell onto the bed.
For a while, the girls talked about Hogwarts, as there was much to learn about life there. They briefly discussed the teachers, at which point Snape came into the conversation. Daphne admitted that he was a creep, but he always had a soft spot for his own students. She was shocked to hear what he had said earlier in his office, and agreed that it sounded like he was indeed insinuating something pretty much illegal, not to mention, as she put it, "gross". The girls were in a few of the same classes. They spent a lot of time discussing the other pupils. Apparently Harry Potter had attracted a lot of attention since he started at Hogwarts, but Marcella did not really care, and Daphne did not like talking about him. However, the former had not known that he was the same age as her, and would most likely end up in some of her classes. This was an irritating piece of news to her. From the descriptions, she was sure she would be able to recognise the rest of the sixth year Slytherins, including Draco, who she was eager to meet, if only for the sake of finding out what her mother had meant.
When the other girls came into the dorm, they stopped talking and instead went to bed. Marcella asked them to make sure she woke up in the morning, as she was not used to getting up early. She did not realise that she was a rather light sleeper until later that night.
The room was ebony black, as dark as Marcella's eyes. She stirred and gripped her wand under her pillow, as she thought she could hear movement, but said nothing. Male whispers echoed through the otherwise silent room. Someone stumbled. They must have bounced off her shield charm. She bit her lip to stifle her laughter as one of them cursed. Casting a silent disillusionment charm on herself, she crawled to the end of her bed to watch the boys. The only thing she could make out was shining white-blond hair moving around, everything else was too dark. It passed close to the end of her bed, and she blew where she guessed the back of its neck would be. It jumped and swerved to look in her direction, but could see nothing. Had she not been under the charm, she was sure her porcelain skin would have been seen. They appeared to have finished what they were doing, and she heard the door close softly.
Curious, she dropped her charms and lit her wand. The ground was moving? Her wand grew brighter and her eyes grew wider, as she realised the floor was covered in bugs. Cockroaches. The dark eyes narrowed. Calling the other girls' names softly, they woke, and she asked them to stay in bed, light their wands and try not to scream. They did as she asked, except Pansy could not help but scream for a split second, before she was hit with a silencing spell. They could not give the boys the satisfaction.
Marcella gazed at the floor, then at Daphne, with a sly grin. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?" inquired Daphne. They both carefully slipped out of bed and hovered the entire swarm of bugs into the air. Walking behind the floating mass of black, they made their way to the sixth year boys' dorm, where they could hear voices talking, but no light could be seen through the cracks in the door. They eased the door open as the cockroaches crawled through. For added effect, the two girls took control of some of the bugs, and made them crawl into the beds and trunks. As they hurried back to their own room, they could hear yells of "kill them" and various swear words from the boys.
Well, how bad was it? Don't spare my feelings!