"Miss Granger, I assume you know why you've been summoned here?"

"Yes… Headmaster," Hermione answered sombrely. Only a week into the school year, Hermione found herself seated in the headmaster's office. Flanking the headmaster on either side were the Carrow twins, both with disgustingly similar smirks over their faces. She could not help but feel like a fawn being hunted by wolves.

Behind her, Hermione felt McGonagall's presence like a guardian angel. She knew they couldn't do anything too horrible with the older witch standing watch. Or, at least she hoped…

"It has come to my understanding that it was only you who have returned to Hogwarts this year, without the company of Potter or Weasley."

"Yes, sir." She kept her answers short and to the point. She felt as if she were in an interrogation room. In the eyes of everyone in the room, she was the sole focus. Despite the soft morning light outside the few windows behind Snape, Hermione felt trapped in a dark prison. Avoiding every gaze, Hermione allowed her eyes to roam around the room, until they landed on something reflecting the soft light from behind a glass case – the sword of Gryffindor. Scrimgeour said they didn't know where it was…

"Where are they?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Hermione asked, immediately returning her focus to the new Headmaster.

"Potter and Weasley; where are they?"

"Ron is at home; he's sick with Spattergroit. I'm sure the Weasleys have informed you?" First rule of lying in an interrogation: turn the tables to be the one asking the questions.

"We have received that notice," Snape admitted in his usual monotone voice.

"Then why did you believe it was necessary to ask me?"

"That is irrelevant; however, you have not answered as to Potter's whereabouts."

"I don't know where he is." Which is the truth, he could have left Grimwald Place for the day…

"What is he up to?"

"I don't know." Well, I don't know what he's doing right now...

"Miss Granger, I find it exceedingly hard to believe that you – the most intelligent member of the Golden Trio – do not know the whereabouts of your supposed best friend."

"Believe it, sir, because I don't know where he is or what he's doing," Hermione stated again in a clear, sure voice. She was glad they could not see how profusely she was sweating beneath her collar. "I am simply here to finish my education. No war can excuse one from one's education. There is no excuse for ignorance," she repeated her rehearsed lines. Behind her, she heard her Head of House snicker in amusement.

"Snape, she's lying! Use Veritus –"

"Thank you, Alecto, but I believe that I am Headmaster here, not you," Snape snapped as if he were scolding a persistent child.

"But Lord –"

"Silence! Be reminded of your place, Carrows, before I am forced to remind you," he hissed, his dark eyes flashing with more emotion Hermione had ever seen in him. Returning his black eyes to Hermione's brown ones, Snape studied her for a moment. For a split second, Hermione felt like a deer in the headlights, caught by his gaze, and stared back, unable to turn her head. Then Snape looked down and the spell was broken; Hermione released a breath she had not realised she'd been holding. "I will believe Miss Granger's story, for now. It is true that she is an insufferable know-it-all and would return to Hogwarts simply to receive praise from her professors for her work. You are excused, Granger. Professor, please bring me Ginny Weasley next."

"Very well, Headmaster," McGonagall responded with as much disdain as she could pour into the single word. The woman, leading Hermione out the door with a soft hand to her back, slammed the door shut behind them.

The two witches walked in silence down the corridor. Hermione could feel a million questions threatening to escape the professor's mouth, but the woman kept them securely closed behind the thin, bloodless line of her lips. As much as she trusted Professor McGonagall, she appreciated the woman's restraint. There are some things that she cannot confide in the professor, for fear of the wrong people finding out.

Why was the sword missing when the Ministry went to look for it? How is it back? Why would Dumbledore leave the sword of Gryffindor to Harry?

"If we hurry, Miss Granger, you will not miss much of Professor Black's lesson. I shall accompany you to vouch for your absence, I understand the professor can be a little… strict, on some issues," she offered.

"Thank you, Professor."

Together, the two walked to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Upon nearing the class, Hermione felt a light touch to her shoulder. Stopping, she turned to look at McGonagall. "Professor?"

"Should you need anything, Miss Granger, anything at all, I would like you to know that you can always come to me. I understand times are difficult and I would like you to know that I shall be there whenever you decide to… ask." During her short speech, the professor seemed to have a difficult time meeting the young witch's eyes and wiped her spectacles on her robes as an excuse to avoid her gaze.

Hermione's heart warmed. It felt good to have someone as strong and powerful as McGonagall in her corner. Giving the professor a bright smile, she politely thanked her and they took the last few steps to the classroom.

Professor McGonagall gave a few sharp knocks to the thick wooden door and opened it at Professor Black's bark, "What!"

"Professor Black," McGonagall greeted disapprovingly. The woman stepped aside to allow Hermione room to enter and find her seat.

"Ah, Granger. So good of you to finally join us! Minerva, I assume you are here to motivate her absence?" Though her words could seem condescending to some, Black's tone withheld any usual malice when she spoke to her old professor. It was understood that though there was a rivalry between both witches, there was also immense respect and a line neither witch dared to cross.

"Yes, she was with our esteemed headmaster for a time. Good day, Professor, I must fetch another student for him."

"Run along, then; wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

Closing the door behind her, they heard McGonagall's heels click down the hall before finally disappearing.

"As we have finished the review on the most useful dueling spells, we have moved along to the Unforgivables. During your fourth year, you learned that there were three Unforgivable Curses, correct?"

The students nodded. During the Triwizard Tournament, Professor Black had been forced to teach part-time due to her involvement in planning the games and shared class-time with the Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as the Auror, Mad-Eye Moody. She had been furious the professor had refused to stick to her curriculum. The Death Eater had not only taught them about the Unforgivables, but also a number of other dark spells and creatures. At the time, Hermione had thought it very unethical and inappropriate subjects for a classroom, but as time would have it, she learned more from a Death Eater than she did the following year beneath Umbridge's tutelage.

"Would someone care to refresh our memories?" Black asked and nodded to a student at the back.

"They are the Cruciatus, Imperius, and Killing Curses," Blaise answered.

"Very good. What do they do? "

"The Killing Curse kills ya!"

"M. Finnigan, another immature outburst like that will land you a place in detention!" The snickering that had begun over Seamus's outburst instantly ceased. "This is not a joke," the professor continued, her voice adopting a dangerous tone. "This is not a game. Outside, there is a war filled with people who would not bat an eye at harming students like you lot. I am teaching you in order to prepare you, so that you all will have a fighting chance once you are no longer protected by the professors, wards, and walls of Hogwarts, understood?"

As the professor spoke, Hermione watched her eyes become more distant, like she was seeing something else and not the classroom filled with students. She, like many of the professors in the school, had lived through the first Wizarding War. Hermione quickly did the math in her head – the professor must have been a young Auror during its peak. No doubt, she saw firsthand the horror and carnage caused by the Death Eaters and what happened to underprepared civilians who got in their way.

"The Imperius Curse gives you control over your victim's actions. It can be resisted, but only strong individuals are able to do so. Finally, the Cruciatus Curse – the Torture Curse – delivers excruciating, unimaginable pain to the victim. There is no way to block it or to fight it like with the Imperius Curse."

"You don't say…" Neville muttered grimly. Hermione's thoughts flashed back to their first Muggle Studies class of the year. On Neville's other side, Professor Black – who had obviously heard Neville's hushed comment – paused her lesson and cast her eyes down towards him, but did not comment.

"That's all I have to say on the matter," she continued, "however, I will ask you to write a full roll of parchment on the creation of all three curses in history following through to when they were named Unforgivable and argue against or for their use in today's modern Wizarding World."

"So, we won't be learning them, Professor?"

"Do not mistake me for a Death Eater, Zabini! I do not condone children practicing dark magic on other students – or at all!"

"But the Ministry's legalized them again –"

"It is a dark road to fall down. Not many wizards and witches who fall into the Dark Arts ever leave them behind or are left unchanged by them. All I am doing is informing you of the basics. Since there is no real way to fight two of them, I cannot teach you to defend yourselves, only warn you to be wary. As I understand it, the Unforgivables are part of Professor Carrows' curriculum in Dueling, so why don't you ask him? Dismissed."


Hermione sat on her bed, propped up by pillows with school books surrounding her on all sides long after the other students had gone to bed. On one side, she had the schedule for the Prefects' rounds after hours; on the other, she had her Transfiguration and Potions homework and at her feet, she had her DADA essay on the Unforgivable Curses nearly completed. In her lap, she held a book she had retrieved from the library just after dinner. This, however, was not part of any of her school work or other related responsibilities.

The sword of Godric Gryffindor, she read, is made of Goblin Steel. Such steel is the most formidable of all metals used for weapons because it is never tarnished by age, rust or misuse. Goblin Steel only takes in that which makes it stronger. Throughout history, many Goblin-made swords…

Only takes in that which makes it stronger…

Suddenly, Hermione was rifling through the mess on her bed searching for the journal that kept her in contact with the boys in Grimwald Place. Usually, she was not this unorganised, but having her own room allowed her to spread her work everywhere.

Finally retrieving it with an aha! of success, she quickly opened to a fresh page and quickly scribbled her message.

We need the sword of Gryffindor! It can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made steel only takes in that which makes it stronger, so when Harry stabbed the Basilisk with it in second year, the metal was infused with its venom, meaning it is able to destroy Horcruxes!

I know it's in Snape's office. I'm going to get it out. Talk soon –Hermione.

Closing the journal, Hermione sat back against the headboard of her bed. If she could find a way to get it out of Hogwarts, the boys could find it and use it to destroy all the Horcruxes they find!

Rubbing her tired eyes, Hermione admitted defeat. Moving her mess of school work to her desk, she crawled beneath the covers of her bed and thanked the creators of Hogwarts that their wards protected the windows from the tornado-strength wind howling outside her bedroom.


Standing in front of the hearth nursing a tumbler of Firewhiskey, Bellatrix stared into the flames, watching as the bright light played with her vision and the embers glowed like rubies.

Her beautiful face, which had aged extremely well, was set in an annoyed frown. She didn't like being confused. She hated it, which was why she had all the top marks in every class while she had been a student here. Confusion lead to misunderstanding and ignorance, and ignorance was a fatal flaw. But here she was, at two o'clock in the morning with a glass of Firewhsikey – confused. All because of one student.

Earlier, she and Minerva had discussed Granger's and Weasley's trips to the headmaster's office. Neither girl admitted to knowing where Potter was and both claimed Ron was home sick. Obviously, they were lying. Bellatrix had no doubt that either one or both of them had a secret way of communicating with the boys through the walls of Hogwarts.

No way was she going to buy the "I'm here to learn" bullshit Granger spouted to Snape, no way in hell.

No, Granger was definitely up to something – something that would get her into serious trouble if she wasn't careful.

With a loud sigh, Bella sunk on to her comfortable couch. That girl better watch her arse…

You should help prepare her… help her succeed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Sometimes the voices in her head asked her to do some pretty stupid things. Some days she listened, other days she chose to ignore them. Today was an ignoring day. Why should she go out of her way to help Granger? Teach her enough to watch her back, fine – that was her job as a professor. But to endanger herself by being a willing accomplice to whatever scheme was going through the young witch's head? Forget it.

Since when do you avoid danger?

Since it's not my problem.

You want to help the girl.

She's not my problem.

She could finish him once and for all… the three of them have a plan… they could destroy him… revenge for –

ENOUGH!

Putting her glass to her lips, Bellatrix drained the liquid in a single gulp. The burning whiskey helped chase away the more persistent voices.

Bellatrix watched as the fire continued to die until only the embers and ashes were left to light the room and keep her warm. Her empty glass long forgotten, Bella's head fell back onto the couch and she finally fell asleep.


"NO! Please, please don't kill him, please! Have mercy on him!"

"Why should I?"

"Because…"

"No… can it be true? A Pureblood in love with a Mudblood! DISGUSTING!"

Beneath closed eyelids, Bellatrix's eyes flicked rapidly from side to side, watching the memory that played on their backs.

Flash of green… endless screaming… crying… children crying… flashes of red…

"CRUCIO!"

"NOOOOO! LEAVE HER ALONE!" someone screamed… nothing stopped the torture…

Bellatrix watched the barely breathing heap of flesh and clothing on the floor. Eyes empty. Skin deathly pale, covered in sweat. Pale lips speckled with blood whispering a simple wish like a sick mantra…

"Kill me… kill me… kill me…"

"Watch children… you see… I am a merciful Lord…"

"AVADA KADAVRA!"

Bellatrix flew off the couch screaming and trashing in fury and pain at the memory that plagued her dreams. Her impact on the floor jarred Bellatrix into the present. Eyes wild, they searched around the room, taking in every corner, every shadow, and every shape hiding in the shadows; the black depths of her eyes held a mad glimmer that normally was kept contained beneath layers of sarcasm and intimidation.

Running a hand through sweaty hair, the witch groaned and shook the remnants of the dream from her thoughts. Turning her head, she checked the clock over the mantelpiece.

5:39. Damn. Looks like it's an early morning…

Rising to her feet, she padded over to her bathroom in the darkness, shedding her clothes and dropping them to the floor along the way.

She flicked her wand at the shower and instantly, hot water spouted and rained down. Steam filled the room and Bellatrix felt herself being wrapped in a warm blanket. Again, the water was too warm for any normal person, but she withstood it, letting the scalding water turn her pale skin pink. Her hair created a dark curtain around her face and she leaned against the tiled wall.

Huh?

Looking up and parting the veil in front of her face, Bellatrix saw the fist-shaped crack in the tile.

Guess I forgot to fix that… placing her hand over the broken tile, Bellatrix willed the magic flowing through her veins to course down through her arm and out her hand, repairing the tiles. Repairo…

Removing her palm, Bella smiled at the newly repaired tiles. Normally, the house-elves would be the ones to magically repair anything broken, but by now they knew better than to disturb anything amiss in Professor Black's private quarters. It satisfied her to see the destruction she caused during her fits of anger. She always eventually repaired the brokenness she caused before Minerva showed up for a surprise visit as she occasionally did.

A wave of her hand shut off the water and she wrapped a towel around herself. Exiting the bathroom, she glanced at the clock again.

6:26. I guess it's time to go down to breakfast…

Dressing in her usual black dress, corset, high heels, and robes, she lazily piled her curls into a messy bun without magic and applied her crimson lipstick.

Her heels clicked ferociously down the hall. Every human and creature could recognize the sound of the professor on a mission and instantly created a path for the imposing woman in black. Entering the Great Hall, it always boosted her already enormous ego to hear the hush that fell over the crowd of early-bird students spread about amongst the four tables. She grinned. She would be sure to keep today interesting; anything for a pleasant distraction.