Chapter Four
Gratitude
When Bella awoke the next morning she felt a moment's reflexive terror at waking up in a strange bed. Then, after a moment, the fog of sleep lifted and she remembered all that had happened the night before, and she climbed out of bed.
She looked around the room, and realized what an utterly alien place she was in. It was saturated with magic; she could feel it, almost smell it in the air. Do they get used to it, living here, growing up here? I wonder if I'll get the chance to...But that was wishful thinking, wasn't it? Try not to get the hopes up too high, luv, you don't know what you're hoping for yet. Rubbing her eyes, Bella rose and went to the mirror.
She stared at her reflection for a moment, and then gave a violent start and whirled round. The picture behind her had moved. She stared hard at it and took a few steps closer.
"Yes?" said its occupant, and elderly woman in blue robes. Bella jumped.
"You can...you just...oh, hell," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and staring up at the portrait. "I- I'm sorry, ma'am, I've never been in a wizard's house before. I didn't know the, er, pictures could move."
For a moment the woman looked shocked. Then, after peering hard at Bella for a moment, she laughed stiffly and said, "I'm afraid you've a lot to learn, child."
Bella plunked her chin on her fist and said, "Boy, don't I know it," more to herself than to the woman in the portrait. She looked back at the mirror, and realized that for some reason, she looked very odd. She was wearing the nightgown that had been laid out for her when she had come up to the bedroom. It looked funny, but not bad, on her. She reflected that she hadn't worn anything like this pretty, sweeping garment in ages and ages.
She looked down at her clothes. They were familiar, those ripped jeans and that ratty jacket, covered in improvised patches and pockets sewn in at every angle. That belt made of chains and bullet casing that she'd been adding to for the last year. She had worn it last night, and had thought herself another girl entirely.
The girl that looked back at her from the mirror looked fourteen. But she herself had never realized she looked so young. This wasn't Spiky Thorne, who had walked fearlessly through dark streets bedecked in chains and spikes and tatters. In fact, she seemed a far cry in every way from the girl she'd been this time yesterday, too old for her years, who had run away from home and never looked back. She, who had slept in doorways and alleys and brandished a hunting knife at anyone who thought to give her trouble. But this girl's dark red hair looked like it had never been cut in anything even resembling a Mohawk, it fell, thick and curly, almost to her shoulders, only looking a little uneven. Her green eyes might never have been ringed in thick, black eyeliner. Quite normal looking, really. But that was the joke, wasn't it? She wasn't, couldn't be if she tried.
Was this girl a witch, looking out of the mirror? She could be, just as well as anything. She wasn't going to have to live as a -what was it? - a Muggle anymore.
Just then a sharp rap at the door surprised her. She went and opened it, and looked up and to both sides before she chanced to look down and notice the house elf.
"Good morning," she said to it.
It looked taken aback for a moment, then shook its head and said, "Master would like you to join him and Mistress at breakfast, Miss."
"Sure," said Bella, and then added uncertainly, "Are you sure I'd look, um, appropriate, Lerrick?" She cast a glance back at the ripped pants and bullet belt.
"Oh!" said the little creature, "the Mistress had clothes sent up for you this morning! They is in the wardrobe, if you please."
"Wardrobe...oh, I see," she murmured. It was enormous, and she had first taken it for a part of the wall. "All right, I'll be out in a minute."
It was a monster of a thing, all made out of heavy, dark, carven wood in all manner of weird and fantastic shapes. It had handles of what looked like pewter in the shape of an intricately twisted snake that wound its way over both doors. She put out her hand to take the handle, but drew it back very fast when the little serpent turned its head toward her and hissed, flicking its small forked tongue.
"Be careful of that one," said the old woman in the portrait, in a sarcastic voice. Bella shot her a dirty look over her shoulder and then turned her attention back to the handle.
She held out her hand to it again, this time out of reach of it's little teeth, and said, "Hey, who are you?" in a sort of undertone. It regarded her for a moment out of small, glittering eyes and flicked at her hand with its tongue again. Then it turned about and slithered onto one of the doors and the wardrobe swung open.
"Humph," said the old woman. "Seems to like you."
The wardrobe was nearly empty but for some clothes that had obviously just been hung there. They were floor-length robes that looked quite new, made of some soft fabric she couldn't name, and were in several colours. She held the green one up to herself in the mirror and looked at it. Liking what she saw, she started to change, casting an eye around the room, and at the woman in the portrait who had very decently turned her head away.
Lerrick led her down many halls, and past many other portraits that moved. They looked at her as she walked past, and she looked back at them with great curiosity. The people in them looked like kin of Lucius Malfoy, many with the same pale hair and eyes, all with the proud, cunning look about them. Many looked haughty. She saw some that looked unfriendly, even cruel.
Lerrick led her to two large, dark, wooden doors and said, "They's in there, Miss."
"Thanks, Lerrick," she said, and took hold of the handle, looking first to see whether it was shaped like anything she'd have to make friends with before she could open the door. Seeing the it was only heavy and ornate, and apparently not alive, she grasped it and turned it, pushing the door in and entering the room.
There had been a conversation of one kind or another going on a moment ago, but as soon as the door opened the room went silent.
She saw Lucius Malfoy sitting at a large table with two other people, one a very pretty blonde woman, and the other a man in dark robes with very severely cut brown hair. For a moment, Bella just stood there, not sure what to do or say. But then Mr. Malfoy rose.
"Aah, you're here. Let me introduce you," he said. He gestured towards the woman, and said, "This is my wife, Narcissa, and here," he waved his hand at the man, "is Gawain Firth, educational assessor for the Ministry of Magic." And turning to them with a significant look, he continued, "And this young lady is Bella Thorne, about whom you both know." Narcissa was looking at her in a half appraising, half inquisitive way, while Gawain Firth was staring in open curiosity.
She smiled at them all, and sat down in the seat that her host had pointed out to her. His wife Narcissa also had that same look of pride and cunning that shone from the faces of the portraits. The both of them were beautiful and cold to look at, like people who held themselves high and had no qualms about showing it. Casting a look at Mr. Malfoy, she could tell even more certainly that he had his own reasons behind letting her stay here. No act of charity, this, done out of the goodness of his heart. Then why? Did she really care? Bella was, as far as she was concerned, the one who counted in this game. They could keep up at whatever they were playing at, but she resolved then and there to come out on top.
Narcissa Malfoy turned to her then with an ingratiating smile on her face. "My, my, he wasn't joking when he said you looked like your mother," she said, in a cool voice that was just above a whisper. "It's good to know you're back among your own again." Bella smiled at her again, and looked down, unsure of what to say.
Gawain Firth spoke up then, looking shrewdly at her. "Have you really lived all your life with Muggles? Never known of the wizarding world before now?"
"No, sir," she said. "Not a clue till last night."
Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat. "Bella, er, Narcissa and I have discussed your situation with Mr. Firth. I am more than willing to arrange for your education, and he has agreed to give me permission to employ certain tutors to teach you here. Do you like the sound of that?"
"Very much indeed, Mr Malfoy," said Bella, still confused about his motives and suspicious of his generosity. Still, she was very grateful to him, and said so. "I – I don't know how to thank you...it seems you're going to an awful lot of trouble for me."
"Don't thank me, my girl," he said heartily. "Don't wear out your gratitude, or you might find it lacking when it's really needed."
Cryptic, thought Bella, and gave him a curious look. Yes, let him know I know he knows something. Let him know that I want to know too. She had a mounting desire to learn about her powers and her family, and felt that the mystery could be helped along a great deal if Lucius Malfoy thought she was worthy of knowing what the hell it was.
She helped herself to a piece of toast.
Gawain Firth was looking at her very closely again. "Miss Thorne, I don't want to make you nervous but I think it would be best to begin your schooling right away, as soon as tutors can be procured for you. I hate to be the one to inform you of it, but you're not nearly as advanced as I would like to see in a girl of fourteen."
She looked at him, still smiling. "You did hear my story, right? I don't know anything about magic, anything at all. I had never met a wizard, that I knew of, at least, in my life until last night. I know I must be horribly behind, don't worry about saying it. I'll just have to figure out how to catch up," she said, brightly.
He looked taken aback, as though he had never heard of anyone facing a program of remedial magic instruction state their case so happily. "It's good to know you're glad to learn, Miss Thorne. Would you like to know what I think would be the best course for you?"
"Sure," she said.
"The Malfoys will select private tutors to give you the material, but you will be given an education that conforms to the standard of Hogwarts, and you will be held to the same standard you would have been there. I have given them a list of the books that you'll need. Their school term at Hogwarts if half over, and I don't think you would be ready to start next September. I think that in a year and a half or so, you can take the placement exams and begin on a level with the sixth-years."
Bella nodded. "I'm sure I can handle that, sir. I'm dying to start already."
Gratitude
When Bella awoke the next morning she felt a moment's reflexive terror at waking up in a strange bed. Then, after a moment, the fog of sleep lifted and she remembered all that had happened the night before, and she climbed out of bed.
She looked around the room, and realized what an utterly alien place she was in. It was saturated with magic; she could feel it, almost smell it in the air. Do they get used to it, living here, growing up here? I wonder if I'll get the chance to...But that was wishful thinking, wasn't it? Try not to get the hopes up too high, luv, you don't know what you're hoping for yet. Rubbing her eyes, Bella rose and went to the mirror.
She stared at her reflection for a moment, and then gave a violent start and whirled round. The picture behind her had moved. She stared hard at it and took a few steps closer.
"Yes?" said its occupant, and elderly woman in blue robes. Bella jumped.
"You can...you just...oh, hell," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and staring up at the portrait. "I- I'm sorry, ma'am, I've never been in a wizard's house before. I didn't know the, er, pictures could move."
For a moment the woman looked shocked. Then, after peering hard at Bella for a moment, she laughed stiffly and said, "I'm afraid you've a lot to learn, child."
Bella plunked her chin on her fist and said, "Boy, don't I know it," more to herself than to the woman in the portrait. She looked back at the mirror, and realized that for some reason, she looked very odd. She was wearing the nightgown that had been laid out for her when she had come up to the bedroom. It looked funny, but not bad, on her. She reflected that she hadn't worn anything like this pretty, sweeping garment in ages and ages.
She looked down at her clothes. They were familiar, those ripped jeans and that ratty jacket, covered in improvised patches and pockets sewn in at every angle. That belt made of chains and bullet casing that she'd been adding to for the last year. She had worn it last night, and had thought herself another girl entirely.
The girl that looked back at her from the mirror looked fourteen. But she herself had never realized she looked so young. This wasn't Spiky Thorne, who had walked fearlessly through dark streets bedecked in chains and spikes and tatters. In fact, she seemed a far cry in every way from the girl she'd been this time yesterday, too old for her years, who had run away from home and never looked back. She, who had slept in doorways and alleys and brandished a hunting knife at anyone who thought to give her trouble. But this girl's dark red hair looked like it had never been cut in anything even resembling a Mohawk, it fell, thick and curly, almost to her shoulders, only looking a little uneven. Her green eyes might never have been ringed in thick, black eyeliner. Quite normal looking, really. But that was the joke, wasn't it? She wasn't, couldn't be if she tried.
Was this girl a witch, looking out of the mirror? She could be, just as well as anything. She wasn't going to have to live as a -what was it? - a Muggle anymore.
Just then a sharp rap at the door surprised her. She went and opened it, and looked up and to both sides before she chanced to look down and notice the house elf.
"Good morning," she said to it.
It looked taken aback for a moment, then shook its head and said, "Master would like you to join him and Mistress at breakfast, Miss."
"Sure," said Bella, and then added uncertainly, "Are you sure I'd look, um, appropriate, Lerrick?" She cast a glance back at the ripped pants and bullet belt.
"Oh!" said the little creature, "the Mistress had clothes sent up for you this morning! They is in the wardrobe, if you please."
"Wardrobe...oh, I see," she murmured. It was enormous, and she had first taken it for a part of the wall. "All right, I'll be out in a minute."
It was a monster of a thing, all made out of heavy, dark, carven wood in all manner of weird and fantastic shapes. It had handles of what looked like pewter in the shape of an intricately twisted snake that wound its way over both doors. She put out her hand to take the handle, but drew it back very fast when the little serpent turned its head toward her and hissed, flicking its small forked tongue.
"Be careful of that one," said the old woman in the portrait, in a sarcastic voice. Bella shot her a dirty look over her shoulder and then turned her attention back to the handle.
She held out her hand to it again, this time out of reach of it's little teeth, and said, "Hey, who are you?" in a sort of undertone. It regarded her for a moment out of small, glittering eyes and flicked at her hand with its tongue again. Then it turned about and slithered onto one of the doors and the wardrobe swung open.
"Humph," said the old woman. "Seems to like you."
The wardrobe was nearly empty but for some clothes that had obviously just been hung there. They were floor-length robes that looked quite new, made of some soft fabric she couldn't name, and were in several colours. She held the green one up to herself in the mirror and looked at it. Liking what she saw, she started to change, casting an eye around the room, and at the woman in the portrait who had very decently turned her head away.
Lerrick led her down many halls, and past many other portraits that moved. They looked at her as she walked past, and she looked back at them with great curiosity. The people in them looked like kin of Lucius Malfoy, many with the same pale hair and eyes, all with the proud, cunning look about them. Many looked haughty. She saw some that looked unfriendly, even cruel.
Lerrick led her to two large, dark, wooden doors and said, "They's in there, Miss."
"Thanks, Lerrick," she said, and took hold of the handle, looking first to see whether it was shaped like anything she'd have to make friends with before she could open the door. Seeing the it was only heavy and ornate, and apparently not alive, she grasped it and turned it, pushing the door in and entering the room.
There had been a conversation of one kind or another going on a moment ago, but as soon as the door opened the room went silent.
She saw Lucius Malfoy sitting at a large table with two other people, one a very pretty blonde woman, and the other a man in dark robes with very severely cut brown hair. For a moment, Bella just stood there, not sure what to do or say. But then Mr. Malfoy rose.
"Aah, you're here. Let me introduce you," he said. He gestured towards the woman, and said, "This is my wife, Narcissa, and here," he waved his hand at the man, "is Gawain Firth, educational assessor for the Ministry of Magic." And turning to them with a significant look, he continued, "And this young lady is Bella Thorne, about whom you both know." Narcissa was looking at her in a half appraising, half inquisitive way, while Gawain Firth was staring in open curiosity.
She smiled at them all, and sat down in the seat that her host had pointed out to her. His wife Narcissa also had that same look of pride and cunning that shone from the faces of the portraits. The both of them were beautiful and cold to look at, like people who held themselves high and had no qualms about showing it. Casting a look at Mr. Malfoy, she could tell even more certainly that he had his own reasons behind letting her stay here. No act of charity, this, done out of the goodness of his heart. Then why? Did she really care? Bella was, as far as she was concerned, the one who counted in this game. They could keep up at whatever they were playing at, but she resolved then and there to come out on top.
Narcissa Malfoy turned to her then with an ingratiating smile on her face. "My, my, he wasn't joking when he said you looked like your mother," she said, in a cool voice that was just above a whisper. "It's good to know you're back among your own again." Bella smiled at her again, and looked down, unsure of what to say.
Gawain Firth spoke up then, looking shrewdly at her. "Have you really lived all your life with Muggles? Never known of the wizarding world before now?"
"No, sir," she said. "Not a clue till last night."
Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat. "Bella, er, Narcissa and I have discussed your situation with Mr. Firth. I am more than willing to arrange for your education, and he has agreed to give me permission to employ certain tutors to teach you here. Do you like the sound of that?"
"Very much indeed, Mr Malfoy," said Bella, still confused about his motives and suspicious of his generosity. Still, she was very grateful to him, and said so. "I – I don't know how to thank you...it seems you're going to an awful lot of trouble for me."
"Don't thank me, my girl," he said heartily. "Don't wear out your gratitude, or you might find it lacking when it's really needed."
Cryptic, thought Bella, and gave him a curious look. Yes, let him know I know he knows something. Let him know that I want to know too. She had a mounting desire to learn about her powers and her family, and felt that the mystery could be helped along a great deal if Lucius Malfoy thought she was worthy of knowing what the hell it was.
She helped herself to a piece of toast.
Gawain Firth was looking at her very closely again. "Miss Thorne, I don't want to make you nervous but I think it would be best to begin your schooling right away, as soon as tutors can be procured for you. I hate to be the one to inform you of it, but you're not nearly as advanced as I would like to see in a girl of fourteen."
She looked at him, still smiling. "You did hear my story, right? I don't know anything about magic, anything at all. I had never met a wizard, that I knew of, at least, in my life until last night. I know I must be horribly behind, don't worry about saying it. I'll just have to figure out how to catch up," she said, brightly.
He looked taken aback, as though he had never heard of anyone facing a program of remedial magic instruction state their case so happily. "It's good to know you're glad to learn, Miss Thorne. Would you like to know what I think would be the best course for you?"
"Sure," she said.
"The Malfoys will select private tutors to give you the material, but you will be given an education that conforms to the standard of Hogwarts, and you will be held to the same standard you would have been there. I have given them a list of the books that you'll need. Their school term at Hogwarts if half over, and I don't think you would be ready to start next September. I think that in a year and a half or so, you can take the placement exams and begin on a level with the sixth-years."
Bella nodded. "I'm sure I can handle that, sir. I'm dying to start already."