Author's note and disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own any of this EXCEPT Bellacine, and any unique situations involving Bellacine. NOTES: 1.Bellatrix is not her mom(god, no.). Her mom is Lucius's little sister, Rocella Malfoy, who I invented for this story. 2. It's pronounced Bella-seen, not Bella-sign. Seen. Not sign. As in Justine.

I'm sorry it takes me so long to update these, but I do have a lot more chapters written. Patience, people, patience.


To DannyPhantomPhanatic, who reviews all my stories and puts up with me in real life. And has done so for a very long time. And will continue to do so, because you are a good person and not at all like Peter the Professional Idiotic Traitor ...but I'm getting carried away here.

That night, she followed Fred Weasley into Gryffindor tower. He couldn't see her over the stack of Zonko's merchandise he clutched. Thankfully, when Bellacine entered the common room, it was completely empty. Then again, it was past midnight.

When she reached the dormitory, all the beds but one had their curtains drawn. With a small sigh, she climbed into the bed farthest from the door, the only empty one. Sleep was immediate; the nightmares came later.


-A flash of red light- he was falling, and there was nothing she could do- the night chill and windy and his broom without a rider- the clouds drew back- there was light- and from the forest, from the forest- she knew what to do, she did, they had only learnt last year- but she couldn't remember, and he was dying here on the ground like her mother- her own wand forced out of her hand-

"No…no…not…."

"Bellacine! Wake up!" Hermione shook her, hard. "What's wrong? What is it?"

"No…."

"It's okay! You're just dreaming!"

There was someone leaning over her, someone still shaking her. Bellacine finally woke up. There, her head between the curtains, was Hermione. Groggily, she asked, "What's going on?"

"I- I think you were dreaming. You were moaning in your sleep, but I don't know what you said." Hermione sat down on the floor. "Come on. Let's go down to the common room," she said.

"No."

"What? But Bellacine-?" Hermione stood again.

"So this is it? You'll talk to me now, when no one else is around? You talk to me when everyone is asleep, when there's no one to see you talk to the Black girl? You talk to me now, now you stop ignoring me? Is that it?" She was standing too now, facing Hermione.

"No, I just-"

"Is that it?" Bellacine repeated. "Ignore me then, I don't care, but answer me this: why? Why do you do this? I thought you, you of all people would understand- but you're all the same, aren't you? First with the surname, last with the person, eh? Because at Durmstrang- at Durmstrang it was like this too.

"You go back to bed. I'm all right. I- well, thanks. But seriously, go." And with that, Bellacine strode to the door. "Well. Go on then."

Hermione remained next to the empty bed. "Um," she hesitated. "I'm sorry." She glanced at Bellacine, then, as if she was embarrassed, stared at the floor.

"Are you? Then act like it." And she swept from the room.

The clock in the common room showed four o'clock in the morning. After only a few hours, it would be time for lessons. A fist of nervousness clenched her stomach. But how could she sleep? That dream- it was part of the reason she left Durmstrang and came to Hogwarts. The memory of that last night at her old school, playing Quidditch over one of the practice fields, one of the practice fields you could see from almost any window in the school,; the memory of what happened there was part of the reason. So long as she needn't fly here, it would be manageable.

Then the murdered Sirius Black- her uncle- escaped from Azkaban, and she had second thoughts. At Durmstrang, it was bearable; everyone there had a few relatives of that ilk, though none so many as Bellacine Black: Sirius Black, her godmother Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Lestranges, her godfather Lucius Malfoy and his family, even her own father had supported Voldemort, until he died before she was even born. But here it was so much worse, although perhaps if she had been in Slytherin it would have been less so.

Bellacine had lied when Ron asked her what house she wanted to be in. Her uncle was in Gryffindor.

As long as I don't turn out like him, she thought.

What if?

There Bellacine sat, staring into the fire. She would not- she would never go over. Not ever.


Already dressed, she left for breakfast before anyone else came downstairs. She ate breakfast so fast that no one else from Gryffindor had the time to make it down to eat. She preferred it that way, but hesitated to leave. Perhaps she ought to wait for Hermione; she hadn't meant to be so harsh. Though she did mean every word of it.

Other students began to straggle in to the Great Hall after a quarter hour. Bellacine saw Neville glance around and sit at the far end of the Gryffindor table, as far away from her as he could possibly get. The magical ceiling- she remembered reading about it in Hogwarts, a History- was light blue with scattered wisps of white.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron came in. They passed by the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy did an odd impersonation of…something, she couldn't tell what. Possibly involving train rides, dementors, and teachers who really needed new robes. Harry sat down by a Weasley twin- probably George- who handed down the course schedules. Hermione, who sat down next to Bellacine, grinned.

"Let's see your schedule," said Ron. "Hermione- they've mucked up your schedule. Look- they've got you down for about ten classes a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage, Ron. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." However talented Hermione might be, she wasn't a very good liar.

"But look…." continued Ron.

Bellacine turned away and examined the schedule in her lap. Herbology…P. Sprout. Care of Magical Creatures…R. Hagrid. History of Magic…C. Binns. Potions…S. Snape. Charms…F. Flitwick. Astronomy…A. Sinistra. Transfiguration…M. McGonagall. It all seemed similar to Durmstrang until she came to Defense Against the Dark Arts…R. Lupin.

"Hey, Hermione? What's Defense Against the Dark Arts supposed to be?"

Hermione, who was now steadily working her way through a full plate, coughed. "What do you mean, what is it? Don't they teach English at your old school?"

"Eh…just that. I do actually speak English, for your information. Would you rather I did the accent? The really weird accent-don't give me that look, you know what I'm talking about. Good, cos I still can't fake it without sounding like Adolf Hitler with a bad cold."

"Do you now," Hermione muttered sarcastically. "Never would have guessed you even knew what English was when it hit you in the face."

"Shut up, will you? Lovely. So what is Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Ron muttered something that may have been very derogatory about Durmstrang, Germany, German, Russia, Russian, people who didn't go to Hogwarts the whole seven years, and people who were related to random evil people(through no fault of their own)altogether. If that was even possible.

Icily, Bellacine retorted, "So now you talk."

"Oh, this is silly. Ron, Harry, Bellacine's perfectly all right. Just- drop it, will you?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look and Bellacine got the feeling she shouldn't be there. "I'll go find where" -she consulted the schedule- "Divination is."

"See you there," said Hermione.


"Ron, what is it with you? Why do you think-"

"Well, just look at her, it's obvious she's-"

"No she's not; you just think she is, because apparently you have a thing about giving people chances. You just-"

Bellacine, who was at the top of the ladder to Divination, paused. At least Hermione was trying to talk to them. She went into Divination.

While the other three climbed the silver ladder, she examined the room. It was dim and smoky, and filled to bursting with puffy armchairs. Together with Hermione, she sat down at one of the small tables.

Trelawney's mental.

No really. What's she doing with Harry's cup again?

How would I know? None of this makes any sense, and the only time I see anything is if I go cross-eyed.

I know. So mental.

Oh god, what'd she see in his cup now?

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," said Hermione.

Professor Trelawney sneered at Hermione. "You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Bellacine looked at the china cup. "It doesn't look like a Grim," she said. "It looks more like a…a wolf?"

Professor Trelawney ignored her.

"Please pack away your things…leave the cups on the tables…until we meet again…."

The four descended the letter in silence; then on to Transfiguration. She sat in the back of the room, in a row with Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Professor McGonagall called roll and began to lecture on Animagi- not a good subject, especially considering certain details of certain people's lives. Bellacine stared straight ahead at the board.

"Really, what has gotten in to all of you today?" asked Professor McGonagall as she turned back into herself. For lack of a better term. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not gotten applause from a class."

Everyone swiveled to stare at Harry, except Hermione and Bellacine, who rolled their eyes at each other. Very dramatically.


Bellacine, Harry, and Ron walked outside to Care of Magical Creatures. The sky was overcast but bright and the grass was tat bright shade of green of after a storm. They drew nearer to the Forbidden Forest; only then did Bellacine recognize Draco Malfoy standing at the head of a group of third-year Slytherins.

"Great," said Harry. "Slytherins. My favorite."

Hagrid led them around the edge of the forest to a fenced-in yard, completely empty, and asked them to open their books. Paging through her book, Bellacine wondered what today's lesson would be- thestrals? No- she'd be able to-

If she moved her head a bit to the left and angled the right way, Draco became visible. He muttered something in Crabbe's ear with the air of an evil schemer. After twelve years she ought to know.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Draco. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him-"

"Oh, why don't you do us all a favor and shut up," muttered Bellacine.

"Shut up, Malfoy," added Harry.

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you-"

Lavender Brown pointed to the far side of the yard. "Look!"

Hagrid had returned, along with a round dozen of very bizzare creatures. They seemed to be part horse and part eagle, though much bigger than either of the two. Each talon on their front feet was as long as a hand, steel grey, and viciously sharp.

Bellacine recognized them from the previous yeat at Durmstrang. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "Hippogriffs."

"Beau'iful, aren' they," Hagrid shouted a little too happilly.

They really were, if you ignored those great talons. Midnight black, blue roan, the grey of winter sky, their coats gleamed in the afternoon light.

"Now firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Don' never insult one, 'cos it might be the las' thing yeh ever do," said the gamekeeper.

Beside her, Harry winced.

"Yeh always wait for the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. Polite, see?" he continued. "Yeh walk to 'im, and yeh bow. But if he doesn' bow back, get away sharpish, 'cos those talons hurt. Righ'- who wants ter go firs'?"

Everyone else, probably being very wise, backed away to the fence. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Bellacine stood their ground. Hagrid glanced about nervously- no one stepped forward- then Harry did.

"I'll do it."

Bellacine knew the lesson wouldn't end well. As it turned out, Harry managed fine. Draco didn't. Neither would Hagrid.


They returned to the common room of Gryffindor Tower after supper,although none of them could even pretend to focus on their Transfiguration homework. Eventually, Ron, Hermione, and Harry left to go check on Hagrid, but not before an akward what-about-Black-no-let's-not-mention-it-here-we'll-be-fine sort of pause.

She wrote her essay on Animagi of this century- according to the textbook. According to the text. People aren't as honest as some like to think.

Bellacine watched the small square of light in the grounds that was Hagrid's house. The door swung open...shut...open...shut...open...shut. Around her, the common room slowly emptied as students finished their work.

Neville hadn't even come down to the common room that night.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs as soon as they returned, but she and Hermione sat down in the two chairs closest to the fire.

"So, how is it here? Compared to Durmstrang, I mean?"

Bellacine thought for a moment. "I...I like it here. It's really different, but in a good way. Some of the classes are different, though. We never had Defense Against the Dark Arts there."

"Did- did you have many friends there? It must have been hard, leaving and coming here. Well, that is- you weren't-"

"Expelled? No." She stared at the flickering fire for a few moments. When she turned back, her eyes glimmered strangely with the reflection of fire on...

"Some friends, yes. But...it doesn't matter. And- well, I wanted to leave. You know who Karkaroff was- is?"

Hermione nodded, then seemed to catch on. "You mean he-?"

"He only got out of going to Azkaban because he turned a load of other people in. I don't know if he ever really changed- he probably won't be going back, though, I doubt he'd get a warm reception."

Hermione finally yawned and headed up the spiral staircase to bed. Exhausted, Bellacine sat back in her chair...she really ought to go up, she'd barely slept last night...but she sank into sleep without dreams before anything else could happen.


The next morning, Bellacine yanked a crumpled piece of parchement from her bag. "Potions today,and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whatever that is."

Harry grimaced from across the table. "Potions is bad enough on its own, but of course somebody was brilliant enough to stick the Slyhterins in with us. Not what we need in a class that bad, especially with Snape."

Bellacine flinched. She liked Potions, it came naturally to her. "Who's Snape?"

"Head of Slytherin, does Potions. Greasy black hair, weird nose, looke like a goth," said Ron, more than a trace of hatred in his voice. "In the running for Most Evil Teacher Ever award."

Fred- or George- Weasley came over to where they sat and pulled a cellophane bag out of his pocket. "Lemon drop?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all familiar with Fred and George's pranks, grinned at each other. Bellacine unwittingly took one. "Thanks, eh...random Weasley twin person."

"Sure."

A few seconds later, Bellacine ate the sweet. Apparently something seemed wrong, because she frowned at Fred and said, "Od uoy did lleh eht tahw?"

Everyone cracked up laughing; unfortunatley, Bellacine's laughter sounded like Mrs. Norris being asphixiated.

"Fred, what do you think you're doing?" asked a tall, freckled boy with red hair (not again) and glasses. "You know what Mum said-"

"Get out, Percy. You're a prefect, you're dammned Head Boy. We've heard, guess what? We really don't care." Fred scowled at his older brother.

"I don't care if you are my brother, talk to me like that again and I'll-"

"Shut UP, Percival."

Percy went pink. "Do. Not. Call. Me. Percival. It's Percy. Not Percival. Not Perfect Prefect Percival. Do you hear me?" His face was redder than his hair from yelling.

"Tolecnal referp ouy od?"

Fred smiled. "Oh, all right...Reversius."

Bellacine grinned, her mouth felt normal again. "Thanks, um...Fred?"

"How do you know all of us?" asked a boy identical to Fred- George.

"Do you want the inside sources answer- all very vague, but generally speaking quite a bit more enjoyable- or the Malfoy answer?" Bellacine replied.

Fred, George, Percy, and Ron all said "Malfoy?" at the exact same time. Hermione glanced at Harry, who glanced at Ron, who looked at Fred, who looked at George, who glanced at Percy, who stared at Bellacine, and swore under his breath. "What are you talking about?"

Bellacine sighed resignedly. "Oh, fine then. Draco's my cousin."

"Draco Malfoy is your cousin?" said Ron, looking shocked. "He's your cousin?"

She nodded.

George frowned. "Then Lucius Malfoy-"

"-Is my uncle? Yeah."

"God, that must be awful." Fred shuddered. "Remember last fall, George?"

"What happened?" said Bellacine.

"Oh, nevermind." Percy left to go visit with his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, and Fred and George drifted away to find more victims: "Reckon Lee'd eat one?" "Well, yeah, but he'd only speak in palindromes then on out."

Bellacine looked at her schedule again as the Great Hall slwoly emptied. Well, today's sure to be interesting. The only question is, is that a good thing?