10 Years Later:
It was one of the few days of the year on which Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was filled with people and noise. There was a cacophony of shouting, laughing and owls hooting, punctuated by the odd yell of pain as a heavy trunk fell on some unlucky victim's foot. Steam from the Hogwarts Express wafted around, and the atmosphere of excitement was unmistakable. The compartments on the train were beginning to fill up, and with less than five minutes until departure, you would have been lucky to not be sharing one with at least a couple of Hogwarts students who you didn't know particularly well.
However, Lena Lestrange was not one to leave things to luck, and thus had arrived half-an-hour early at King's Cross station, in order to get herself a compartment. She didn't have to worry about any students she didn't want in there asking to join her. It was one of the upsides of having a reputation. Instead, her compartment was given a wide berth, and at present, the only other occupant was something very small and very green and currently gesticulating wildly at Lena.
"You can make as many rude gestures as you like," she told it calmly, "but, as I told you this morning, Mortimer, as you were wolfing down your breakfast, you will not be having anything else to eat until lunchtime, which will be one o'clock."
Mortimer the Bowtruckle blew a raspberry at her, but Lena merely raised an eyebrow, saying, "If you continue to misbehave, I will be more than happy to put you in the pouch until you see the error of your ways."
The pouch which she was referring to was a mole-skin pouch that she had received as a Christmas present when she was twelve. Just as nothing could be removed from the pouch by its owner, nothing could take itself out. Lena had discovered early on that a period of incarceration within the pouch was the most effective threat against the Bowtruckle.
As a sulky Mortimer conceded defeat, the compartment door opened and a girl entered, lugging her trunk behind her.
"Good summer, Lestrange?" she asked as she heaved the trunk onto the luggage rack.
Lena casually swiped her hand in a horizontal direction, and the compartment door slammed shut. "Good enough," she replied. "Yours?"
"I've had worse."
The girl took a seat on the opposite side to Lena, who was leaning against the wall on the windowed side, with her legs outstretched across the seats. Mortimer perched on one of her legs, his twig-like arms crossed as he pointedly stared away from Lena.
"What's got Leaf-Man so moody?"
Lena snorted. "The greedy little bugger wanted a snack and I said he couldn't have one. Then he was rude, so I threatened him with the pouch."
The girl sniggered, then leaned across to speak directly to Mortimer. "Cheer up, mate. If I was the one who'd been rude to her, I'd be getting a lot worse than the pouch."
"Then it's probably a good thing you've never been rude to me, isn't it, Skelton?" said Lena, smirking.
"Well, I'm not batshit mental, am I, Lestrange?" Skelton shot back.
And it was true, even if most people thought that Maggie Skelton had to be at least a little less than sane to voluntarily spend time with Lena Lestrange. Particularly when it was factored in that there was a reasonable possibility that, despite being in Slytherin, Skelton was a Muggle-born.
Skelton didn't even know for sure herself, having been raised in foster care since her mother, a single parent, had died. Lena didn't know the circumstances of her demise. She had never asked. In fact, there were many things Lena had never asked Skelton, ranging from what was her favourite type of Honeydukes sweet to when her birthday was. She wasn't even sure if it was correct to refer to the darker-skinned Skelton as black (which Skelton had found very amusing when Lena had once described her as 'my ethnically ambiguous friend'). Their friendship, if it could be called that, was built principally on two things, the first being a 'no questions' policy: in particular, they didn't ask each other about their childhoods and parents. All they knew about each other was what was volunteered – in Skelton's case, that she had lived in at least six foster homes since her mother's death when she was three, and in Lena's, that she had lived abroad, under her paternal grandmother's guardianship, from the end of the war until the summer before her First Year – and whatever was common knowledge – for instance, that Skelton was not a known wizard's name, and that Lena's parents were serving life sentences in Azkaban. The other thing that the 'friendship' was built on was that Lena liked that Skelton was about one inch shorter than her five feet and nine inches– not so short that she had to bend her neck to look down at her, nor any taller than her so that she would have to look up at her. It was superficial, yet something Lena found greatly reassuring.
Of course, there was also the matter that neither of them could stand the other six Slytherin girls in their year level. It had taken Lena approximately the first two months of First Year to persuade the two other girls sharing her and Skelton's dorm, Nicole Bletchley and Flavia Warrington, that they should make a request to Professor Snape to move into the other Slytherin girls' dormitory. It was a request that Snape would normally not even give a moment's consideration, but as soon as he realised that Lena –who he had been wary of since her first day – was somehow involved, he immediately gave them permission. So, for the last four years, Lena and Skelton had had the dorm to themselves, something that suited both of them greatly.
"So I see you weren't made Prefect," said Skelton.
"I see you weren't either. Pity, I thought that this year they might make a bold choice. You know, something a bit out of the box."
"Out of the box?" Skelton raised her eyebrows. "I think choosing either of us as Prefects would qualify as out-of-the-room-the-box-was-in."
As Lena gave a theatrical sigh, they felt the train lurch, then slowly began to move. A couple of seconds later, the compartment door opened again and a tall, gangly boy with brown hair stumbled in, dragging his trunk behind him. He shut the door, and flopped back onto a seat next to Skelton, out of breath.
"Whew, I only got onto the platform at 11:59," he panted.
"That's cutting it a bit fine," Lena remarked.
"Lost track of the time this morning. Oh, hello Mortimer," he said, noticing the Bowtruckle who was waving at him, looking cheerier than he had since his breakfast.
"If I wave at you too, do I get a proper greeting?" said Lena drily.
"Oh, sorry. How are you, Lena?"
"I'm very well, Rolf, how are you?"
"I'm good," said Rolf Scamander, leaning over and holding his palm out to Mortimer, who eagerly stepped onto it. "And how are you, Maggie?"
Skelton smirked. "Oh, I'm just fine and dandy. So, you're not a Prefect either, I take it?"
"Merlin, no. They would have had to be desperate or out of their minds to choose me. I mean, not as insane as they would be to make either of you Prefects, but still, you know, bonkers."
"That hurts, Scamander," said Lena in a mock-offended voice.
"Cuts us to the quick," added Skelton, holding a hand over her heart.
"My sincerest apologies," was Rolf's sarcastic reply.
"But you know what?" Lena swung her legs off the seat and straightened up. "I think this disappointment is the kick up the arse I need to put an end to my fiendish ways, to walk the straight and narrow path." Rolf snorted and Skelton laughed outright. Lena tossed her long hair and fixed them with a superior look. "You won't be laughing when I'm made Head Girl in two years time."
"What a terrifying prospect," muttered Rolf, as Skelton laughed again. A small smile played on Lena's lips as she settled back into her previous position of lying across the seats. Mortimer, apparently now bored with Rolf's companionship, jumped down onto Rolf's trunk, where it still lay on the floor. Lena stretched out a foot to him, and he latched on as she brought him back up to the seat. It looked like he had forgiven her for her prior threat.
"So, who do you reckon are the Slytherin Prefects?" Rolf asked the girls.
"Gemma Farley, I imagine," replied Skelton. "She's the least idiotic of the other girls. As for the boys, I'm not sure. Higgs, maybe? Possibly Kahn."
"That sounds about right," agreed Lena. "What about Hufflepuff?" she asked Rolf.
He scratched his nose, thinking. "Gabriel Truman, probably. No clue which girl, though."
"No prizes for guessing which Gryffindor boy," said Skelton, snickering.
"Oh, yeah," said Lena in a serious voice. "Definitely Oliver Wood. He's such a well-rounded individual."
Once again, there were snorts of laughter.
"Seriously, though," said Skelton, "how unbearable is Weasley going to be now that he's got a badge?"
Lena smiled dangerously. "Oh, I hope he tries to put me in detention."
"He's a pompous twat, Lena, not a sadomasochist," Rolf said matter-of-factly. "Besides, when was the last time even a teacher gave you a detention?"
"When was the last I got caught breaking the rules?" Lena pointed out. "And are you going to put that on the luggage rack or not?" She indicated to his trunk.
"Oh, well, I thought maybe you could do it," said Rolf sheepishly.
"That's not fair!" cried Skelton indignantly. "I put mine up by myself!"
Lena rolled her eyes, before focusing her attention on the trunk. She put her hands out in front of her, palms facing upwards, and slowly began to raise them. At the same time, the trunk started to levitate off the ground. Ignoring the ill-concealed looks of fascination and wariness from Skelton and Rolf that she'd gotten used to over the years, she steadily guided the heavy trunk up onto the rack, and slid it neatly between the other two.
She looked back at Skelton. "You didn't ask."
As they resumed their conversation, Lena couldn't get the image of their faces watching her do wandless magic out of her head. At least Rolf didn't stare at her open-mouthed anymore, she thought. That was some small consolation.
It was a little over an hour into the journey to Hogwarts when Lena and her two companions began to notice a small but steadily growing group of students, all Slytherins, hanging around outside their compartment.
"Flint, Burke, a couple of Sixth Years," listed Skelton, watching them out of the corner of her eye, "a few Seventh Years, some of the Third and Fourth Years – ugh, Selwyn and a few of our other skanky fellow Fifth Years are making their way towards us too. What have you done that you're not telling us, Lestrange?"
Lena grimaced. An idea had begun to form in her mind. It had been ten years, she thought as she started to twirl her hair around her fingers. Either he was showing up this year or the next. "I have a suspicion," she told Skelton and Rolf, "and it's not about what I've done, it's about what I might do."
"What is it?" asked Rolf curiously.
Lena sighed, letting her hair go. She wanted to get this over with. "You'll see in a moment," she answered, and swiped her hand.
The door to the compartment flew open, evidently startling the dozen or so Slytherins outside. Lena stood up and strode over to the doorway, leaning against it. She surveyed her nervous-looking housemates before speaking.
"The fuck are you all doing out here?" she said calmly. A couple of Third Years flinched.
They all looked around at each other, silently trying to select a spokesperson. After about five seconds, a Seventh Year called Blishwick appeared to have won the nomination. He cleared his throat.
"There's a rumour going around the train, Lestrange," he said, attempting to affect a bored tone, but failing. "A rumour that you might be interested to hear."
The other Slytherins watched her closely, some with bated breath and others with an unmistakable bloodlust, like she was a beast moments away from tearing the throat out of another creature.
Lena simply quirked an eyebrow at Blishwick. "Could it be possible," she began, effortlessly mastering the bored tone that he had attempted and failed, "that this rumour is about a boy called Harry Potter being on this train?"
Their stunned reactions were enough to confirm her suspicions.
"How did you know?" demanded Aloysius Burke, one of the boys in her year. "Did somebody already tell you?"
Lena opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Dahlia Runcorn, another Fifth Year.
"No," said Runcorn in a hushed voice, "she probably read our minds before she came out."
Lena barely held in a long-suffering groan. "No, Runcorn, I did not read your minds. I made a rather simple deduction based firstly on the fact that it's been ten years since the end of the last Wizarding War, so Potter would possibly be old enough to attend Hogwarts, and secondly on the sight of you lot congregating outside my compartment like a pack of hyenas."
The Slytherins' expressions were a mixture of impressed and offended.
"Now," continued Lena, "was that it, or was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention?" She watched as the Slytherins looked around at each other, and back to her. They appeared to be wanting a bigger reaction. Lena rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she deadpanned, "were you waiting for me to hunt down Potter on the train and do him in?"
The Slytherins shifted uncomfortably.
"We just..." Burke began to mutter, but Lena cut him off.
"What, expected me to go challenge 'the Boy Who Lived' to a duel?" she snapped. "Write 'Let's Kill Mudbloods' in large, red lettering on the train windows? Send up a Dark Mark to show my undying support of Lord Voldemort?"
This time, all the Slytherins visibly flinched, and several gasped.
Tara Selwyn, another Fifth Year who Lena despised, hissed, "You dare say–"
"Yeah, Selwyn, I do," interrupted Lena. "Now, as much as I've enjoyed this little chat," she said, addressing the entire gathering, "could you all just bloody well piss off?" And with that, she turned back around, and once more slammed the door using her wandless magic.
Lena settled back down on her seat and closed her eyes, her head falling back against the cushioned seat. She heard Skelton say, "Looks like they're all pissing off."
Something brushed against her hand. She opened her eyes and looked down to see Mortimer sitting on her left hand, staring up at her with a concerned expression.
Lena smiled at her little friend and lifted him up closer to her face. "I'm fine," she murmured. "Don't worry about me."
The lack of change in his expression showed that Mortimer clearly didn't believe her.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
While Mortimer napped in one of her robe's pockets, Lena watched as a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the Sorting Hat, and a moment later was sorted into Hufflepuff. She made her way to her new house's table, and sat down. Lena's eyes flicked over to the very end of the table where Rolf sat, at least two feet away from the nearest person. She felt a small pang of discomfort. In Rolf's first couple of years at Hogwarts, he'd had lots of friends in Hufflepuff. But after he and Lena had begun spending time together during their Third Year, all those housemates had been quick to cut their ties with him. Rolf became ostracised by the rest of Hufflepuff, the house reputed for its loyalty and fairness. All because he had fraternised with Lena Lestrange.
Lena was pulled out of her reverie when the rest of the Slytherins started clapping and cheering. She looked at Skelton, a question in her eyes.
"A Bulstrode," was Skelton's reply, and Lena let out a depressed sigh. 'Oh joy,' she thought dryly, 'another one.' One of the Slytherin girls in their year was called Olivia Bulstrode, and in Lena's opinion, she had the mental capacity of a troll, and a striking physical resemblance to one as well.
As the Sorting continued, Lena felt her anticipation grow. Harry Potter, the boy who had apparently vanquished Lord Voldemort, was at Hogwarts now, and was soon to be sorted. She felt sure he was going to be in Gryffindor, but there was a small what if at the back of her mind: what if he was put into Slytherin...
"Longbottom, Neville."
It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over Lena. She froze, her hands gripping the table so hard her knuckles went even whiter than usual. She only just managed to keep her face impassive, but she felt as though somebody was squeezing and twisting her insides. A lot of the older Slytherins were staring at her, and so were a few students from the other houses. She could even feel Snape's gaze from the teachers' table drilling into her. However, she didn't acknowledge any of their stares: her eyes never left the small, slightly pudgy boy that tripped over on his way to the Hat.
Longbottom. She'd never even realised there had been a child...
"Your parents and Rabastan have been arrested, Lena. They were caught torturing a married couple, the Longbottoms."
"Tortured?"
"To insanity, that's what people are saying. They were Aurors, purebloods too."
"But why–"
"It doesn't matter, Lena! Your parents and uncle and the other one who was with them, they're going to Azkaban, undoubtedly for life. And you can bet that right now the Ministry is doing everything they can to find you. The wards around this house will hold for a little while, but not forever. We have to go now, get out of England, before that happens!"
"What about Aunt Narcissa–"
"The Malfoys are doing everything they can to distance their selves from the Dark Lord, the last thing they're going to do is take in the child of his biggest supporters. Now, go get whatever things you need. We're leaving in five minutes."
"Grandma–"
"I said go get your things, Lena! For Salazar's sake girl, for once in your life, listen to someone other than the Dark Lord and do what you're told!"
The Hat was taking its time to decide where to put the Longbottom boy. Lena couldn't tear her gaze away from him. What did you say to someone whose parents' lives had been utterly destroyed by your own?
It took a few minutes for the Hat to finally shout, "Gryffindor". Longbottom ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to 'MacDougal, Morag'. Lena didn't join in with their mirth. She just watched as he took his place among the Gryffindors. She presumed he knew the names of his parents' torturers, and wondered if any of the older Gryffindors would tell him that the daughter of the Lestranges was currently attending Hogwarts.
Lena could feel Skelton's gaze still on her, but before she could say anything, Professor McGonagall called out another familiar name: "Malfoy, Draco."
Lena's cousin, who she hadn't seen in ten years, swaggered forward. She noted his clear physical similarities to his parents, and had more than an inkling that the shared qualities would go far deeper than that – which was confirmed when the Hat screamed "SLYTHERIN!" after barely touching his head.
The small blonde boy with a pointed face practically strutted over to the Slytherin table that was cheering and applauding him. As he sat down next to two fellow First Years, his eyes swept along the table, and Lena had a suspicion that he was looking for her – presumably his parents had told him about her. Malfoy's gaze finally found hers, and he appeared to immediately identify her, his eyes slightly widening. Lena maintained the eye contact, keeping her expression bored. After a few seconds, an uncomfortable Malfoy turned away, back to the Sorting. Lena turned to Skelton, who was watching her curiously.
"My cousin," said Lena, answering the unasked question. "Haven't seen him since he was a baby."
"So he knows you're related?" asked Skelton in a low voice.
"Looks like it. I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to introduce himself to me when we get back to the common room, so I'm going to head up to our dorm straight away."
There was one more First Year sorted into Slytherin – Pansy Parkinson – before the name that Lena had been waiting all night to hear was called out.
"Potter, Harry."
Lena saw a bespectacled boy with black hair step out of the line as whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. Lena ignored them as her eyes, like they had done with Longbottom, closely followed Potter as he made his way to the Sorting Hat, which was placed on his head, dropping over his eyes. The Hall went silent as everyone waited for the pronouncement.
It took a little less than thirty seconds for the Hat to shout "Gryffindor!". A clearly relieved Potter shakily walked to his house's table, and Lena wasn't at all surprised to hear that he was receiving the loudest cheer yet. She could distinctly hear the Weasley twins yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
So her prediction had been correct – Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor. But Lena couldn't help feeling curious about what the Hat had said to him. She smiled wryly, remembering her own Sorting.
"Lestrange, Lena."
There was a momentary silence, then the heated whispering began as Lena made her way up to the stool where the Sorting Hat stood. She ignored the noise, looking straight ahead without a hint of emotion; her Great Aunt Valeriya had told her to expect this sort of reaction. She would be entering Hogwarts with a reputation attached to her name, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall – who couldn't quite conceal an apprehensive look – placed the Sorting Hat on Lena's head, just covering her eyes.
Lena waited to hear the voice that Aunt Valeriya had told her about, but nothing happened. A small panic began to grow inside her, until about ten seconds later, when something finally happened.
It was as though somebody was standing outside the protective barrier around her mind, and politely knocking on it, like they wanted her to open a door. Surprised, Lena tried to detect where it was coming from. After a couple of seconds, she pinpointed its origin, and hesitantly knocked back. The knocking from outside stopped.
A small voice, like a whisper, spoke: 'You need to let me in.'
'What?' asked a confused Lena.
She heard a noise like an impatient sigh. 'Your mind, you need to let me in. I can't get in at the moment, your defences are too strong.'
Lena hesitated. She never took down the barrier. 'Why do you need to come in?'
'So I can sort you. I need to see inside your head in order to figure out which house you are best suited to.'
Lena was still wary. 'What kind of things do you actually need to see?'
'I need to see your entire mind, child. That's how it works.'
'But what if there are things I don't want you to see?' she inquired.
The Hat was beginning to sound quite aggravated. 'What, you want me to sort you based on only the best aspects of your personality? Don't be ridiculous.'
'I'm not concerned about my personality,' replied Lena. 'I'm talking about memories.'
'Why?' said the Hat, its interest piqued. 'Got some particularly juicy ones?'
Lena mentally frowned. 'I've got some that I'd rather keep to myself, yes.'
The Hat sounded incredulous. 'And what, you're afraid if I see them that they're somehow going to get out to other people?'
'Well, you're going into a lot of people's minds–"
The Hat interrupted her. 'Are you that self-centred that you think I'm going to start discussing you with the other First Years instead of fulfilling my purpose of Sorting them? Or do you think,' the Hat continued, its voice laced with sarcasm, 'that sometimes throughout the rest of the school year, while I'm sitting up there in the Headmaster's office, that Dumbledore gets worried that I'm feeling lonely and puts me on to give me some company, and we gossip about all the students I've sorted?'
There was a pause.
'Actually, I was more worried about what you'd say at the next Sentient Hat Convention.'
'You,' growled the Hat, 'are far too snarky for someone of your age.' Suddenly, its tone changed. 'Anyway, why do you think what you've got in your mind is so much more interesting than anyone else's? Maybe I've already sorted someone this year whose mind is far more fascinating than yours.'
Lena mentally snorted. 'Nice try, but I do understand the principle of reverse psychology.'
'Of course you do,' muttered the Hat. 'Look, are you trying for the record of the longest Hat Stall? Because they're not taking me off your head until you're sorted, and I can't sort you until you let me look around your head. Even if,' the Hat added, 'I already have a decent suspicion about which house you belong in.'
Lena considered this for a moment, before acquiescing. 'Fine, you can come in. Just wait a second.'
The Hat made a sound of relief, as Lena did the mental equivalent of throwing a sheet over some of the memories she didn't want seen under any circumstances. She then made a door appear in the barrier, and opened it, tensing at the intrusion as the Hat flooded inside.
She felt it look around for a moment, before saying accusingly, 'You're still hiding some of your memories.'
'Believe me, you've got more than enough to work with here.'
The Hat looked around for another few seconds, before admitting in a begrudged voice, 'You are very impressive.'
Lena smirked. 'So I've been told. Often.'
The Hat, however, snorted. 'There's no need to put on that arrogant act in here. I can see that it's just a way of concealing your insecurities.'
The smirk was wiped off her face. 'Well?' demanded Lena. 'Are you going to sort me or not?'
'I was patient with you before,' scolded the Hat, 'so I think you can afford me that same privilege.'
Lena rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
'Yes,' murmured the Hat. 'Exceedingly intelligent, and eager in the pursuit of knowledge. Yet... no. Hmm, an interesting sort of bravery, and a desire to walk your own path. But still...you have such a true cunning that it would be a shame not to place you...not to mention your ambition...'
At the mention of ambition, one of the memories Lena had been hiding inadvertently resurfaced for a moment, before she viciously shoved it back down.
But the Hat had seen. 'What's Hecate's Orb, then?' it asked slyly.
'Fuck off,' snapped Lena, furious with herself for the slip-up.
'Ooh, you have got quite the potty-mouth on you,' sneered the Hat.
'You were created for one purpose,' snarled Lena, 'so why don't you just do your bloody job, and sort me?'
The Hat appeared to sense that it had entered dangerous territory. 'Fine. Well, it's been a pleasure, Miss Lestrange. Now, let's see how you do in SLYTHERIN!'
The Hat shouted the last word out loud, and it was pulled off Lena's head. She blinked as applause of varying levels of enthusiasm began, and stood up. She steadily made her way to the Slytherin table, where her new housemates watched her keenly. Lena didn't acknowledge any of them, she was too busy thinking about her conversation with the Sorting Hat.
"Zabini, Blaise."
The Sorting of the final First Year into Slytherin brought Lena back to reality, and she politely applauded as the boy joined the rest of his house.
Dumbledore got up to say a few words before they ate, and Lena quite liked the literal approach he took. Then the food appeared.
"You know," said Skelton as she began to fill her plate, "I reckon the food is one of my top three favourite things about Hogwarts." She took a mouthful of sweet potato. "Top two, actually."
In response, Lena gave her a small, distracted smile, as she helped herself to a bread roll. It had certainly been an interesting first day of the new school year.