The students scurried from the classroom. Afraid of Claire, she didn't know, but she had a feeling it had something to do with it. She was a powerful witch, perhaps too powerful for her own age.
"Miss Malfoy, when did you learn to do that?" Professor McGonagall scowled. "That is far advanced magic that only experienced witches and wizards can achieve. I know your mother and father are not Animagus' themselves."
"I haven't done it before," she explained. "That was the first time I've ever tried."
"Well it takes a powerful witch to pull that off," she glared down at the teenager. "Not even Harry Potter showed that ability in his first year."
"Professor, I've been raised by some of the most powerful wizards of their time. I've seen it done before," Claire answered.
"What else can you do?" Professor McGonagall asked. "I take that statement back. Show me what else you can do, Miss Malfoy. Meet me in my office in twenty minutes."
Claire nodded and left the classroom, swinging her satchel over her shoulder. Waiting for her outside was Magnus Potter, a smirk spread across his face.
"Nice work in there. The whole school is buzzing about it," he said.
"It just happened ten minutes ago," she scowled, walking the opposite direction.
"That's quite a long time for news to spread," he smiled. "Impressive, I'll give it to you. Perhaps you should've been placed in Ravenclaw."
"I'm intelligent not clever," she retorted.
"You're a little bit of both," he shrugged. "Incredible, nonetheless."
Claire sped up her walking until a boy from her grade crashed into her. "Watch where you're going!"
"I'm sorry, rodent," he laughed, followed by his friends.
"What did you call me?" she whipped him around, making him face her. Her wand was pointed against his neck.
"I-I didn't say anything," he stuttered.
"I heard you," she scowled. He towered over her, but she didn't care. Her size didn't amount to her abilities. "Get lost before any damage happens to you."
"Y-You got i-it," he stumbled, scurrying away from her.
"You're more like your father than I thought," Magnus joked.
"Look, I don't have time for your witty jokes about my father," Claire turned to face him.
Magnus stared at her in disbelief.
"Talk to you later," she smirked. He had finally shut up about her family - he was always going on and on about her brother or her father, and she was annoyed with it.
She made her way to Professor McGonagall's office and knocked on the door. It swung open, revealing the woman at her desk.
"Miss Malfoy. Right on time," she grinned slightly.
Claire sat down in a chair in front of the professor. Professor McGonagall intertwined her fingers. "I've called in someone to watch over our meeting."
From the shadows stepped out her father. His arms were crossed, but a smile rested on his face.
"Let's find a nice location first," Professor McGonagall stood up and led the two Malfoys to an empty classroom. "Miss Malfoy, do you know how to cast a Patronus Charm?"
Claire nodded. "Yes, Professor."
She swished her hand, informing her to begin.
Claire pointed her wand toward a corner in the ceiling. "Expecto Patronum!"
A silver, wispy otter appeared, swimming around their heads before disappearing through a window.
"Where have you sent it?" Draco asked her.
"To my mother," she smiled.
Draco returned it, impressed with his daughter thus far.
"I hear you are practically an expert in potions," Professor McGonagall paced around her. "Advanced potions that only seventh years should know."
"They're basic knowledge," Claire argued. "Knowing how to make Polyjuice Potion can come in handy when you're-"
"Miss Malfoy, it is dangerous that you know how to make that potion," Professor McGonagall stopped in front of her. "Where could you have learned such a thing?"
"I read a lot of books," Claire scowled. "My father has them in his office."
Professor McGonagall attempted to read through Claire's thoughts, but she was well-practiced with Legilimency.
"Mr. Malfoy you have trained your daughter exceptionally well," Professor McGonagall began.
"She inherited most of it, Professor. Her mother was skilled in every subject," Draco said.
"But you were the powerful wizard, hm?" she raised an eyebrow at him.
Draco didn't reply, but stiffened physically. She knew of his prior Death Eater days and they still haunted him. But it took a certain ability to be able to produce one of the three Unforgivable Curses - Draco had performed all three.
"I suggest we place her in fifth year classes and see how she plays out. Unfortunately, she must complete at least six years of schooling in order to hold a job at the Ministry of Magic. What profession would you like to proceed in, Miss Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall turned to her.
"I'm not sure yet," she frowned. "I haven't really thought about it."
"Well then. Tomorrow morning you shall begin more advanced classes. The more you learn, the more advanced your classes will become. Perhaps you can strengthen your herbology skills with your brother, Orion."
Claire groaned. Plants were her least favorite thing to learn, and everyone in her family knew it. Orion seemed to be obsessed with them, and held almost every book on any plant in existence.
Professor McGonagall smiled. "You have not yet realized all of your abilities, Miss Malfoy. I suggest until you can control them, you don't use them."
"Yes, Professor."
"And Mr. Malfoy," she turned to him. "Tell Mrs. Malfoy we send our best wishes."
"Thank you, Professor," Draco sighed, approaching his daughter as the woman left the room. "How did she find out?"
"I was in Advanced Potions with Magnus, and we had to create Amortentia. I was the only one to complete it…" Claire trailed off. "Then it was Transfiguration, but I already knew how to transform cups and jars. I turned the weight into a dragon. She asked me if I could turn into an Animagus, and I tried it."
"Claire, you are supposed to take first year classes: not fifth," Draco frowned.
"But they're so easy!" she whined. "I'm not learning anything."
"And you're not doing yourself any good by being a know-it-all," he retorted. "Your mother was the same way."
"You still fell for her," Claire scowled. "I'm not a know-it-all."
Draco sighed. "Take it easy, okay? If anyone of those kids find out about what you can do, it'll be madness."
"They already have," she breathed. "I was called a rodent today."
There was a silence between father and daughter. She was Draco's only daughter, and only Hermione knew about her special training. Draco had been preparing her since she was young. He knew she was just like her mother when she was reading chapter books at the age of three.
"Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow. I really want to try out for the team," Claire stated.
"You're a first year. You have to be incredible in order to make the team," Draco told her.
"Dad, I beat my own brothers. I'm sure I can handle a Hufflepuff," she smirks.
"Maybe you should wait until your third year. I think it'll be good for you," Draco worried.
"I'm fine, dad. Honest."
Draco sighed and hugged his daughter goodbye. It was useless trying to get anything through her head - she was stubborn like both her parents, a dangerous combination. He flooed back home to Hermione.
"Our daughter is going to end up just like you," Draco breathes, slouching onto the couch. It was rare to see Draco in a distressed state.
"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.
"McGonagall is placing her into fifth year classes. I guess she's too smart for her own age," Draco glared at Hermione.
"Don't act like it's all my fault!" Hermione retorted. "You're the one who wanted to teach her things beyond her years!"
"It was for her safety, 'mione. It's not exactly the happiest place out there for a Malfoy - a girl at that!" Draco scowled. "Why couldn't she just remember things, but not raise her hand."
"Because I'm her mother," Hermione smirked.
"I think her mother should have a conversation with her," Draco inquired. "It'd do her some good."
Hermione sighed. "It's alright that she's advanced, Draco. Let her learn as much as she can."
"I'm just worried. Not even you were that good when you were eleven years old."
"I'll send her a letter," Hermione decided.
That night, Claire took to her room, eating dinner by herself. She didn't want to be with her brother or Magnus - she didn't even want to be around her friends. Everywhere she went, people stared at her, whispering behind their hands. She hated the attention she got for just being smart.
The more she thought about it, the more Claire decided that she would be better off in a fight than anyone her age. It was true she was gifted and highly intelligent, but her father wanted it that way. It was easy for her to soak in new information, and she never forgot it - a trait given to her by her mother.
A pecking noise brought her out of her thoughts, as she glanced toward her window. A snowy white and brown owl stood shivering in the cold.
Claire opened her window and brought the owl inside. She recognized it immediately - it was her mother's. A note was tied to its leg, as the animal extended it for her.
Claire-
I know it's the last thing you'd like to hear today, but you ought to listen to your father. He's right - being a know-it-all isn't the always the best. But it's good to be smart; just keep it to yourself. Don't always raise your hand in class for every answer. Don't show off your abilities to your peers. They'll know your strengths and weaknesses faster than you will yourself. I know McGonagall can be quite demanding at times, but she's just doing what's best for you. She knows what you're capable of. Practice when you're alone - not in front of your friends.
With love,
Mum
Claire wiped a few tears away from her eyes. She missed her mother, and normally it was her father giving her life-saving advice. Even though the wizarding war ended over twenty years ago, there was still a threat of another uprising. Her father warned her about almost every day. But her mother would remind her that she would be safe, no matter what.
She stored the letter in her trunk and wrote her mother back, letting her know she would take the advice, and that she really didn't have many friends.
It wasn't a lie - Claire mostly kept to herself with the exception of Magnus nosing his way into her business whenever she could.
Taking a deep breath, she left the comfort of her room to return her dishes to the kitchen. She was stopped in the common room by a familiar voice.
"You're not supposed to be out of bed after nine, you know," Magnus Potter's voice echoed in her head.
Claire scoffed, ignoring him, and continued through the portrait hole.
The hallways were dark as usual, and she lit her wand. By now, she knew her way around pretty well, and made her trek to the kitchens.
"It's dangerous for little girls like you to be alone," a voice called out from behind her. She turned around and threw a ball of light towards the voice, watching as it exploded in front of a woman's face. Scars covered every inch of it, making her seem like a distorted monster.
Claire didn't reply to the woman and instead, let her approach her.
"Who are you?" Claire demanded.
"I could ask you the same question, although I can already tell your last name by your exceptionally white hair," the woman snickered.
Claire thought back to the books she had read over the last ten years, a specific book about Death Eaters coming to her mind. The woman looked familiar, and she couldn't figure out why.
"Your father was quite the traitor, wasn't he?" she laughed. "Disobeyed the Dark Lord in his most opportune moment."
Claire scowled but kept her mouth shut. She didn't know why a Death Eater was inside Hogwarts.
"What's the matter? Afraid that your daddy won't come to save you?" the woman cackled. "I think it's about time we get a little revenge on your father."
She ripped her sleeve up off her left arm, revealing a snake writhing around a skull. Claire knew exactly what it was - the Dark Mark. Her father had the same one covered up years ago.
That's when Claire realized who she was. Alecto Carrow, the woman who watched her brother be killed by Draco Malfoy when he threatened to kill Hermione Granger. Now she was back to get revenge…