(A/N hello. I've been MIA for a while, as some of you may know. Liquida Tenebris and Thank You and Hired help and every other story I've been writing for here have been pretty much abandoned. I do plan to someday finish them. I've been writing my own books and publishing them. Which is exciting :D If you're interested in learning more about them, shoot me a PM and I'll gladly tell you more. :D Anyway, this is an idea that's been swaying around in my head for ages, but I've mostly ignored it till now. I've been missing my HP/LV :P)

"And you think this will work?" Narcissa asked, dubious.

"Of course, Cissy. I can't imagine why no one's ever thought of it before. Won't it be grand?" Bellatrix laughed and the Malfoy matriarch flinched. Of course she wasn't going to stop her sister. That was a fool's errand. Trying to stop her would only spur her on.

Besides, what did it matter? If she failed, oh well. And if she was successful, then things might change.

Or, they most certainly would, given what she had planned. Narcissa didn't know how they would change, there were so many variables.

Of course, her curse might just be stopped, before it could really alter the boy saviours mind.

The blonde woman wasn't sure what outcome she wanted.

"You aren't studying, Harry?" Hermione asked, watching her friend closely. He hadn't spoken about his godfather's death, or the inheritance left to him. He seemed to be pretending that it had never happened. Hermione didn't know whether she should force him into it, or leave it all alone.

"Not really," He replied, staring blankly at his textbook.

"Wanna play chess then?" Ron asked, eagerly putting down his own homework before the boy who lived could answer.

"Sure, okay," He said, not wanting to disappoint his best mate. Hermione scoffed but there was humour in her eyes.

"I think she's still peeved that she didn't get all O's on her OWL's." Ron muttered, and his bushy haired friend threw a quill at him. It didn't hit, it spun in the air and fell to the floor, well before it was in range of the red head.

An owl tapped at the common room window not long after Ron had pulled out the chess board. Hermione stood and opened the window and the bird swept inside with more speed than was necessary, dropping a black envelope on Harry's lap. It looked like a howler.

"Don't touch it!" Hermione said, and Harry put his hands in the air and stood quickly. He didn't like the look of it any more than she did. Ron watched with wide eyes as the bird flew out the window as fast as it had come in.

As soon as Harry thought that he had escaped whatever magic the envelope held, it came to float in front of his face. He tried to step back but the sofa he'd been sitting on was in the way. He stepped to the side quickly, coming to stand behind it. He never took his eyes of the letter.

Hermione and Ron came to stand beside him.

"Go get someone Ron," Harry said, his tone wary.

The Weasley was quick to do as he was asked, but as soon as he left the room, the envelope opened. Black smoke poured from it, like ink in water. It began speaking, and the black was heading right for him.

"Run! Harry!" Hermione yelped, pulling on his arm. But he stood stock still. It was as if his legs had turned to concrete.

'May your hatred turn to lust in your chest. May all you fear become all you want. May those you love become those you most despise. May you only find solace at the side of your enemy. May all you hold dear turn to ash by your own hands. May you happily burn every bridge you've ever built.' It said, the blackness had reached his face and he couldn't breathe.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, but it seemed as if she was far away, hard to hear from the ringing in his ears.

The Boy Who Lived collapsed to his knees as the envelope fell to the ground, just as inconspicuous as it had once been.

"Are you okay? Harry?" She had come to kneel beside him. His head was still swimming, and a deep fear was settling in his chest. What was that? Who sent it?

Ron burst into the room with Professor McGonagall close behind him.

"What's going on?" She asked, and that was the last thing Harry heard before he face planted into the carpet.

"Harry? Harry!" Ron shouted as soon as the boy saviour's eyes twitched.

"Ron?" He mumbled, sitting up and searching for his glasses. He was in the hospital wing for the first time that year. He was sure there would be more.

"It's okay. Professor Dumbledore said it was likely a joke. Probably sent by Malfoy or someone. He said there was no way any real harmful magic could get through the wards so easily." Hermione said with confidence, her arms crossed.

The Boy Who Lived nodded along with her, but something felt wrong about all of it. He was frowning, and he knew his bushy haired friend saw it.

"Harry really. He said you were fine. They ran some tests while you were sleeping, and all they found was a hex to knock you out for a few hours. He told me to tell you that he'd be keeping a close eye on you though, just in case."

All through this, Harry tried to recall exactly what the howler like letter had said. And found that he couldn't.

"Hermione, do you remember what it said?" He asked her, and she bit her lip.

"I do. You don't?" She guessed.

"No I- Not really." He confessed, wondering if it was because he hit the ground too hard, or something else.

"Well it's probably best to just forget about it. It was probably some Slytherin messing with you, anyway." She told him. He did want to remember what it said, but he also wanted to dismiss it as easily as she and Dumbledore had.

"You're certain?" Dumbledore asked, his chin in his hands. Both Slughorn and Severus were in his office. Horace, because he hoped he might have something to fix it, and the new defence teacher because he was the one to find it.

"Yes. It was deep in his mind, barely there at all, at this point." Severus answered, his head bowed. It was unusual for him to bow his head in a conversation that involved the young Potter, but there it was.

As loathe as Dumbledore was to admit it, he'd never heard of this kind of magic. It was old. And Dark. So old in fact that it was all but forgotten. Except, as it was becoming clear, by Voldemort and his followers.

That was another reason Severus was there.

"And there is no way to remove it?" The headmaster asked, holding his breath.

"Not that I'm aware. Though," The ex-Potions master trailed off.

"If I may, this really doesn't seem like something the Dark Lord would do. It's very, binding, magic. It's not deadly. It is altering, but not life threatening or even painful. It just doesn't seem… right." He said, giving a side glance at Slughorn.

"Horace, if you could please research what Severus has said. If you find anything pertaining to it, I would like to hear from you right away." The Headmaster told him, and he gave a sharp nod, exiting the room.

"I've heard nothing of this. Most times, most times there are whispers of his plans. Now, nothing. Either he didn't tell a soul, or it simply was not him." Snape said when he was sure Horace was gone.

"I agree that this seems unlike him. But if not, then who?"

"Cissy! Cissy the birds back!" Bellatrix shouted, though it was the dead of night and her sister was sleeping.

She was looking out the open window, as she had been for hours now, waiting for this particular owl.

"And it's got nothing! I think it worked!" She yelled as the bird got closer. Her sister descended the stairs then, her hair mussed and a frown on her face.

"Bella, what is going on?" She asked wearily, afraid to know.

"It's back! And it's got nothing!" She cheered, waving the bird around like a trophy.

Narcissa pursed her lips, not expecting this outcome. Her sister planned to make the
Potter boy fall in love with her. Or at least, worship her. She fancied herself his greatest enemy. Which just might have been true, after she slaughtered his godfather.

But Narcissa was almost certain that she was not, in fact, his worst enemy.

The boy would, in time, crawl to the Dark Lord on his hands and knees begging to be petted like a regular old housecat.

And then he would be killed.

Bellatrix factored into this almost exactly none. The Boy Who Lived would not go to her. She would not get the glory of bringing him to the Dark Lord herself.

She might even be punished for taking matters into her own hands. Like so many others when it came to Harry Potter.

She gave her insane sister a nod and a half smile anyway.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked the next morning. He'd been released from the hospital wing.

"I feel fine." He said, shrugging. Hermione smiled as if this proved everything was okay. But Harry couldn't shake the dread in his stomach.

One of the first things he'd done was confront Malfoy. Who seemed genuinely confused by the accusation that he had anything to do with the weird letter. Which was new, for the Slytherin. Usually he'd admit to his misdeeds in a roundabout way, not confessing but close, then he would gloat.

If it wasn't him, then who? Sure, there was probably a lot of people who wanted to mess with him. But surely most the people who wanted to 'mess with him' also wanted to cause damage.

But then there were the wards. The headmaster had said that nothing malicious could come through them.

He was sure that this was true, or he would have received hundreds of cursed items a day.

If there was nothing wrong, why did he feel like there was?

Later that night another owl came. Everyone in his dorm was sleeping, except for Harry. It tapped on the window beside his bed. He stood up, almost afraid to open it after the last letter he'd received.

But Dumbledore said there was nothing wrong.

So he opened it, taking the letter from the bird's beak with trepidation.

Hello little Potter.

I hope my last letter made it to you safely. It won't be long until you're begging to fulfil my every whim. But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I, Dear? I bet you don't even know what I'm talking about.

The words were written with ridiculous swirls and spirals. Which made him think it was a woman who sent it.

He knew that the person was talking about the black envelope. But he still couldn't remember the wording of said envelope.

This letter made him wonder if it was some sort of love spell. But then the way it was written seemed malicious somehow. He chewed his lip and debated between taking it to Dumbledore at such a late hour, or leaving it until morning.

The churning worry in his gut made him walk out of the dorm room and the portrait hole.

Harry had just left the headmasters office, sent back to bed and told not to worry.

Dumbledore decided it was time to put a stop to any letters addressed to one Harry Potter. Which was obviously something he should have done much sooner.

He rapped his fingers on his desk, staring at the letter intently. It was not from Tom Riddle. That was clear. He wasn't prone to dotting his I's with a love heart. He wondered if this was the work of a woman, and if it was, it was one of his enemies.

There was a short list of women that fit that bill. And an even shorter list of women insane enough to do this.

"Hermione, you need to tell me what that envelope said." Harry said the next morning. He hadn't gotten any sleep that night, instead, he replayed the incident over and over in his head. For the life of him, he couldn't remember.

"Professor Dumbledore said it was best to just forget about it," She said, chewing her lip.

"How did he even know I wouldn't remember? And if it was no big deal, why not just tell me?" He pressed, and she shook her head, silently refusing him.

Whatever the howler like letter had said, it was nothing good. Which made Harry sure that there was more to this.

If it was a harmless joke, why was Dumbledore trying to prevent him knowing the truth?

Again, the thought of the wards came into his mind, making him second guess himself. What if there really was nothing wrong? Was it so hard to believe that for once, something was easily explained and harmless?

Yes, yes it was hard to believe.