I.
Valence is not changed at all when Bellona arrives. The sunflowers stretch south and west beyond the inner garden walls, and the scent of blooming lavender is heavy in the air. She is blessed, she knows, to have arrived on such a beautiful day, and stops a moment at the top of the path to take it all in.
"I hadn't realised how much I missed it," she says, automatically in English, and Maman wraps her arm tight around Bellona's shoulders. "Oh, Maman-"
"I know, chouette," Maman assures her, in French. "I do know, I promise. Come, your grandmother is waiting."
It has been four years since Bellona saw her grandmother, and she does not even care that the wild cry she looses before tearing down the path into Grand-mère's waiting arms is uncouth and brash. She has missed how the smooth gravel of the path crunches under her and Grand-mère's feet as they run to meet one another, has missed being near Maman and Grand-mère and even the cousins and the aunts. She has missed the camellias along the path, and the snowy clematis overhanging the archway into the kitchen garden. She's missed the rhythm of French being spoken all around her, and Maman's laughter, and the fierce strength of Grand-mère's embrace.
"Welcome home, ma petite," Grand-mère says between kisses. "Oh, welcome, welcome home."
Jeanne is sitting on Bellona's bed when she reaches her room, which she did not expect.
"I have been thinking," Jeanne says, in her voice like silver bells, "that I owe you an apology, Belle. The twins as well, but they are still as they were."
Jeanne, Bellona knows, has spent much of the past two years in Greece, with her dangerous, too-beautiful papa. It seems that knowing her other family has changed Jeanne as much as Hogwarts has changed Bellona. Jeanne looks as nervous as a pig in a butcher's, her delicate little hands clasped in her lap and her teeth digging hard into her perfect lip. She looks much the same - lovelier, if anything, growing into herself just as Bellona has grown taller and stronger and freckly - but there is a sharpness gone from her gaze since last Bellona saw her.
"No apologies," Bellona says, sitting down beside Jeanne. "But maybe we can change things a little, while I'm here. And maybe- maybe you could come to Taivolkovski with me?"
Ukki has always made more a fuss of Bellona than the others because Grand-mère didn't, but he loves all of them the same. He and Aleksi will go out of their way to welcome Jeanne, if only because her visit is unexpected and they love her.
Jeanne takes Bellona's hands in hers and smiles, and they are sharing uncertain stories of lessons in Athens and classes in Hogwarts when Anatole comes to fetch them for dinner.
Ukki and Aleksi are even more excited than usual when they see that Bellona is joined not only by Anatole but also by Jeanne. Even still, it is Bellona who is kept closest under Ukki's arm, Bellona who is given the first cut of bread, the sweetest berries, the first kisses and the longest embraces. Jeanne's Finnish isn't quite as fluent as Bellona's, but it will be by the end of their stay.
"Tell me, Bellona," Ukki says, while Jeanne and Anatole are clambering up a hill away beyond where they have laid out their picnic, "are you happier now than you were when last we ate on these rocks?"
She thinks about Blaise and Daphne, and about Harry and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, about Professor Hagrid and Remus, and about Papa. Hogwarts is not so safe as it was, but she is stronger than she has ever been, and she can bear any danger.
She looks at Jeanne and Anatole and Aleksi, away high on the rocks, and settles comfortably under Ukki's arm. She is wearing a long, thin chain of silver and pearls under her blouse, a gift from the treasury at Valence by way of Grand-mere's jewellery box. Maman gave her a bracelet as well, one that her grandmother gave her when she was Bellona's age, a delicate thing of dark sapphires and bright blue topazes set in silver.
"Yes, Ukki," she says, turning to kiss his cheek, which is smooth but somehow older than it was when last they sat here. "I am happier."
II.
Blaise's mama has them not in Russia this year but on a whirlwind tour of Eastern Europe - here Riga, there Kiev, next Tallinn, now Bratislava. Madame Sofia is radiant everywhere they go, and Daphne, unused to travel, shines with a glow of discovery that makes her even more beautiful than usual.
Blaise leans on the bench he and Bellona have claimed as their own, and together they watch Madame Sofia and Daphne flit from shop to shop on the other side of the square, fair and lovely together. Bellona would be jealous of how immediately close Daphne has become with Blaise's mama, but she knows that it is not the same as her own closeness with Madame Sophia. Daphne, after all, is normal.
"Things will be different this year," Blaise says, soft and quiet. "If what Potter said is true-"
"My papa believes him," Bellona says, leaning her head against Blaise's shoulder. "And more importantly, Remus believes him - I cannot see that they both would believe such a terrible lie if there was any reason at all to doubt."
"I will take Remus' word for it," Blaise says, grinning when she casts a sour glance up at him. "Can you blame me for being sceptical, Belle? It will change the world if what Harry says is true."
Not the whole world, necessarily, or at least - not yet. Bellona believes Harry because she cannot see a world in which he would lie, not about this. Not knowing how little anyone wants to hear it. There is no other explanation for Harry's terror, for Cedric's death, for Malfoy's terrified, terrible joy.
"Then we will have to stand against it, I suppose," she says, "and do what we can to spare Daphne those choices."
Daphne's mama revokes her invitation for Blaise and Bellona to visit the day before they are due to arrive. Daphne is mortified and angry, but she is also helpless. There is no point in joining her outrage, though, and so Bellona finds herself merely… resigned.
"A sign of what is to come," Blaise says quietly, his arm pressed to Bellona's, their hands back to back and unwavering. Even if Daphne is forced away from them, well, she will be safer on the inside, and Bellona will still have Blaise. If she is very lucky and very careful, she will also have Harry, and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and she has her family in Valence and her family in Taivolkovski, and she has her papa and Remus. That will have to be enough to see her through. "Are you away home then, Belle? Or have you alternate accommodations here in England? Mama was afraid this would happen, so she wanted you to know that you're welcome to stay with me in Belgravia, if you wish it."
Blaise's mama keeps a beautiful house in Belgravia that she only spends half a dozen nights in each year, and Bellona would usually jump at the chance to visit it - she and Maman and Anatole spent Christmas there with Blaise and Madame Sophia just last year.
But she has a letter from her papa, with an address and an invitation, so she kisses Blaise's cheek and gets off the Knight Bus several stops ahead of him.
"Grimmauld Place!" the conductor hollers, and Blaise's scepticism is matched only by Bellona's excitement at spending some time with her papa.
III.
"The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Bellona," Remus says quietly while they're making little cheese tartlets to perk up Papa's spirits, while Harry is having his day at court. Mrs Weasley still does not really like Bellona, and now that Remus and Papa have explained to her how Mrs Weasley lost her brothers, she cannot find fault in that.
"What about them?" Bellona asks, pinching together the pastry with carefully floured fingers. "Do we even know who it will be yet? I did not think so."
"Nothing has been confirmed," Remus says, dabbing a little egg wash onto each tartlet with a deft hand - the tartlets are for him as much as for Papa, because Remus never looks to have eaten enough. Ukki has already sent huge baskets of black bread and cloudberry jam, because everyone likes Aleksi's cloudberry jam, and Anatole and Amand have promised more tempting treats. Maman has promised to bring enough food to feed a garrison when she arrives next week, and Bellona can hardly wait - she'll absolutelystuff Remus and Papa then, and Maman will help.
"Nothing has been confirmed," Remus says, "but there's enough talk that it's almost certain. The others should be fine, but you'll need to be careful, Bellona."
"Why me specifically, Remus?" she asks, not minding what he's saying all that much because Kreacher is grumbling something about dirty half-breeds sullying Mistress' kitchen, and the oven is scalding hot when she opens the door.
"Her name is Dolores Umbridge, Belle," he says, "and she's never been fond of the likes of you and me."
Maman arrives wearing all black, save for a snowy silk scarf draped artfully around her neck. She is a true de Poitiers today, with their ancestress' famed beauty and her own haughty manner. Bellona wonders what about Maman Mrs Weasley will dislike, and is not even sorry for it.
The Weasleys, after all, have made it clear to her that she is a Slytherin , and that counts more against her than Papa does in her favour. Oh, they are polite to her, and sometimes even include her in the teasing at the dinner table, but when they and Harry and Hermione are clustered together in one of the drawing rooms, they fall silent as soon as Bellona walks in. She knows when she is unwanted, and will not feel bad for wanting to flaunt her beautiful, brilliant mother at them just a little.
"This place is a hovel," Maman says to Papa by way of greeting, softening the blow with a lingering kiss to his cheek. "And you look revolting. When did you last cut your hair?"
"Direct as ever, Juno," Papa says, but his fond smile is proof - to Bellona, at least - that he knows that Maman's directness is a sign of her concern. "You're well, I trust?"
"Better for having our girl," Maman says, which makes Bellona's face heat. "Ah! Chouette! Come, come, let me see you! Has London smothered you yet?"
Bellona rises up on her toes to kiss Maman's cheek and is rewarded with a fierce embrace that she is only too glad to return. She herself is dressed all in black and white today too, crisp and sharp, and she does feel a little guilty for that. It is unseemly of her to show off that she has wealth twice over, when she knows that the shabbiness of the Weasleys' clothes is not because Mr Weasley is incapable of doing well by his family. Rather, it is because of the likes of Lucius Malfoy preventing him from doing so.
"Having her here has been more wonderful than I have words to express, Juno," Papa says, wrapping his arm around her waist when Maman releases her just a little. "I think we've gotten along well, haven't we, sweetheart?"
"Better than expected," Bellona says, more frank than usual for having Maman here. "I- that is, I only thought-"
"That I'd be as great a fool as I was last summer?" Papa says, grinning as he only usually does with Remus. "I've learned my lesson, poppet - no more of that. I've even been working on my French, haven't I?"
"Your accent is somehow worse than it used to be," Maman says, "but that can't be helped, I suppose - Bellona, mon ange, could you fetch what you need for the day? I would speak with your papa alone, if I may."
"Of course, Maman," she says, kissing them both on the cheek again before darting up to her bedroom. It shares a wall with Papa's, and for a heart-stopping moment, she'd been afraid that she had been given his dead brother's room, until she saw the plaque on her uncle's tomb.
She does not need much - she will be coming back here tonight, after all - but up here, where it's quiet, she can hear Harry and the others whispering to each other.
Her name comes up, and she forces herself not to be hurt that they are talking about her. It matters little - she will have Blaise at school, and Maman and Papa and Anatole and Ukki and even Jeanne are only ever a letter away.
When she returns to the parlour, Maman and Papa are sitting close together, heads close and faces dire serious.
"Your papa will accompany us today, Bellona," Maman declares - in English, for eavesdropping ears. "Just you and I and him, how does that sound?"
Papa looks ecstatic with happiness, and Bellona cannot help but feel the same. Doubtless, he will come along as a dog, but he will be there, and they will be almost normal.
"Wonderful, Maman," she says, because it is, and because she is allowed this just as much as Ginny Weasley is.
Blaise and Madam Sophia are at Monsieur Fortescue's shop, talking in low voices over enormous Knickerbocker Glories and looking outrageously fashionable. Blaise leaps out of his seat to sweep Bellona clean off her feet, and Maman and Madam Sofia exchange a more reserved hello.
Blaise sets Bellona down with a kiss to her hair and startles a little to notice the enormous black dog sitting at her feet. Papa's tongue is lolling out his mouth, very red against his dark, dark fur, and Bellona gives him her best quelling look.
"Hello, Mr Black," Blaise says quietly. "How lovely to finally meet you."
Papa stays along with her and Blaise while Maman and Madam Sofia do the serious shopping - Madam Malkin objects to his following them in the door, so he sits politely in the sunshine outside, moving only to snap at the Malfoys when they pass him by.
"Oh," Draco says when he sees them. "It's you."
He's dressed all in black, like a priest who's forgotten his dog collar, and his mother is behind him. Bellona can see her own face in Narcissa Black's, but is surprised to find that she's grown enough like Maman that she no longer looks entirely like a Black. That is a relief. It means that she might be able to escape being tied to this Dark Lord of theirs even by association.
"Nice to see you as well, Draco," Blaise says, rolling his eyes as one of Madam Malkin's assistants pins his sleeve. "Madam Malfoy, how pleasant - you're keeping well?"
"Mr Zabini, is it?" Narcissa Black asks. "I am well, thank you. And you must be Miss de Poitiers - hello, cousin."
"Madam Malfoy," Bellona says, dipping her head. "I had a letter from your sister just last week - she seemed well."
The twist of Narcissa Black's mouth means she knows which sister Bellona means, which will please Aunt Dromeda enormously. Papa, through Remus, asked her to reach out to Bellona, and her letters have been vivid and funny. Bellona had been thrilled by them, and by this new connection. She is always pleased to find more family.
"You must favour your mother's family in looks, Miss de Poitiers," Madam Malfoy says coolly, "but you remind me very much of your father in manner. He was an insolent brat, too."
Papa, outside the partly open door, growls. Narcissa Black jumps.
They are returned to Monsieur Fortescue's shop, sitting with him under one of his striped umbrellas while he tells them stories of his travels in Persia, as was, researching as much about his craft as he could - because ice-cream, he tells them, originated with the Persians - when their mothers find them. And not just Blaise and Bellona's mothers, but Ron Weasley's mother and all her assorted children.
Dora is with them as well, though, and she plants herself firmly beside Bellona with a look daring anyone to say a word.
"Wotcher, Belle," Dora says, taking a spoon to Bellona's summer berry sundae. "Good day?"
Harry smiles at her when she looks up, but she is still angry with him. He has spent plenty of time with Papa since his arrival at Grimmauld Place, but has been as silent as the Weasleys in Bellona's presence. She's made do with Papa and Remus and Dora, but Remus and Dora are often away on secret errands or at work. Papa's moods are mercurial at best, and while he has tried very hard…
Bellona has missed Blaise and Daphne more than she can say. She has missed Jeanne, too, since their reconciliation, and she has even missed being ignored in the common room, because that is better than being suspected of things she has not done.
IV.
Anatole and Amand are at the station to see her off, and she runs the full length of the platform to Anatole, leaving Maman with her trolley.
Anatole and Amand, Maman and Papa, Dora and Remus. Oh, Dora and Remus are there to see Harry safe, under orders from Dumbledore, but Dora kisses Bellona's cheeks the same as Amand does, and that is enough.
Remus presses a little envelope into her hand right before she is to board the train, names and addresses for those people who will help her if the rumours are true, and Dolores Umbridge is to be given authority in Hogwarts. He is more worried for her than anyone, terrified of what this woman might do with Bellona under her power, and so he is the only one who has thought to arm her.
She knows already that she will not be able to rely on Professors Dumbledore or Snape for aid, should she need it.
She and Blaise and Daphne are making their way toward the carriage where Malfoy and the rest are sitting, where they always sit, when a door opens.
"Hey, Belle," Harry says. "Want to sit with us for a change?"
Bellona stops, more from surprise than anything. After shutting her out all summer, he would invite her in now? When he is away from the censure of the woman he has replaced his mother with?
"My friends have already invited me to sit with them," she says, "so no."
Harry looks so shocked that she would laugh, if she was not annoyed. Can he truly be so damnably dense?
Dolores Umbridge makes Bellona's skin crawl, but Pansy looks thrilled - a woman with the same taste and look as her at the staff table, how could she not be?
"I don't like this at all," Blaise says, shifting to rest his arm against Bellona's. "Not one bit."
Daphne looks surprised by the degree of their upset, but it's alright for Daphne - she's human.
V.
Every class with Dolores Umbridge, a teacher who does not believe in practical instruction, is a nightmare. Bellona has become used to snide comments - from Pansy, mostly, although Millicent is no slouch - but she is not used to them coming from teachers.
Dolores Umbridge treats Bellona as Professor Snape treats the Gryffindors, though, constantly picking on her, using that odd accent and old-fashioned words so that Bellona sometimes misses her meaning. Blaise and Daphne do what they can to help, but Pansy's delight in how bizarrely unfair Dolores Umbridge is to Bellona, and only to Bellona, leaves more of a mark than she'd like to admit.
And then, halfway to Halloween, it becomes worse.
"I have been told that one of our students has a special wand," she says, in her sickly sweet voice, her fat hands folded together and her ugly face twisted into something like a smile. "A very special wand, not made by Mr Ollivander."
Bellona and Blaise are the only students in the room whose wands were not made in London. Blaise's is bright, pale poplar, with a core of alkonost feather, made by a tiny old woman with the thickest glasses Bellona has ever seen in Petersburg. Bellona's, of course, is hawthorn, with a core made of one of Ukki's golden-white hairs braided with one of Grand-mère's silver, the one thing Maman insisted on having made in le vingt-et-unième arrondissement instead of Diagon Alley. Bellona can guess which of them Umbridge means.
"Step forward, Miss Black," she says, sweet like burned caramel. "Now, please."
Bellona does not step forward. She has never answered to that name before, and she will not do so now. Not for this woman.
"Now, Miss Black!" she says, a little sharper this time. "We don't like lollygaggers in this classroom, dear!"
"There's no one by that name here, Professor," Daphne says in a moment of staggering bravery. Bellona's jaw must have dropped at least as far as Blaise's, sitting on the far side of Daphne. "Perhaps you ought to check the register?"
"Thank you, Miss Greengrass, but Miss Black knows just who she is," that woman says. "She should be happy to answer to that name, rather than… the other."
"Why are you so curious about my wand, madam?" Bellona asks, giving in for Daphne's sake. "No other teacher has ever found fault with it, and I visited Monsieur Ollivander just last summer with a friend, and he thought it a perfectly acceptable example of his craft. I do not see what it matters where it was made."
"That is not for you to decide, Miss Black," the woman says, her hands white and her mouth thin. "Now give me your wand ."
"No," Bellona says, in her first ever show of rebellion against a teacher. She misses Remus painfully just then, because he would have stood at her shoulder against this odious woman. She does not trust Professor Snape to do the same, and does not think it wise to highlight Professor Hagrid to her, if he were here - no doubt Dolores Umbridge would be even more eager to be rid of him than she is Bellona.
Who else does she have? Professor McGonagall, who is wary of her for being a Slytherin and for being her father's daughter, no matter how exemplary her Transfiguration work is? Professor Dumbledore?
"You cannot refuse a direct order from a teacher, Miss Black," the woman says, giving up all pretence of sweetness in favour of venom. "Give me your wand now."
Bellona takes her wand from its place on her desk and tucks it into her hair. Then she puts her things into her bag, pushes back her chair, and stands.
"No," she says again, and leaves. Remus suggested she take her chances with Professor Dumbledore if Dolores Umbridge singled her out, and while she does not like to do it - particularly not so soon into the year! - she cannot see what other choice she has.
"Mademoiselle de Poitiers," Professor Dumbledore says, emerging from behind the great eagle leading to his office just as she raises her hand to knock. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I am here to beg protection, sir," she says, worried now that she has gone too far. "Madam Umbridge wanted to take my wand, sir, and I refused."
Professor Dumbledore's eyes are a very pale, very sharp blue. They make Bellona think of a bird of prey, and not in the comforting way of Maman and the others.
"Come this way, Bellona," he says, waving her into his office. "If you please."
She follows the spiralling stairs into his office. She's not sure if he is one of those who cannot bear to throw anything out, or if he simply likes to show off all the powerful artefacts he's collected. Some of them remind her of the things kept in the outer vault at Valence, special treasures given over to the Duchesses de Valentinois by wizarding families across France for fear of Muggle encroachment.
"Oh!" she cries, darting over to greet the beautiful phoenix perched by the desk. "Oh, monsieur, how lovely to meet you!"
She curtsies, because a phoenix is a noble bird, and is rewarded with a coo like a dove's.
"His name is Fawkes," Professor Dumbledore says. "We have been friends for a long time."
Having a phoenix for a friend improves Bellona's opinion of Professor Dumbledore exponentially. Veela are close to fire-birds, and there is no finer a fire-bird than a phoenix - no more particular, either.
"Now, Bellona," he says, motioning for her to take a seat. "Remus has given me some insight into what has been happening with Professor Umbridge. Tell me what happened today, in your own words."
Bellona is telling him how afraid she felt, knowing Dolores Umbridge's ministry record, when the woman herself walks through the door. She seems even more outraged that Bellona beat her here than that she refused an order.
Papa's letter is proud, when she tells him of her detentions, but Remus' is wary. If Bellona were being a little less optimistic, she might even say that Remus sounds afraid.
Maman threatens to come to Hogwarts and slap sense into Dolores Umbridge, but that would only make things worse.
Dora writes that she will speak to Fol-Oeil Moody, and see if he cannot find something to use against that woman. Dora shares in Remus' worry over her, but Dora's worry is tempered with a fury that Bellona can feel stirring in her own belly.
She left her wand in Blaise's care before coming here, and hopes she will not regret it. Some part of her is sincerely afraid that that woman will turn on her, and she would rather not be defenceless. She would rather be hurt than lose her wand, though. Hurts will heal, but her wand, the way it combines all the best parts of her? That cannot be replaced.
"Come in, Miss Black," and Bellona does not flinch at that even a little bit. She's proud of herself for it. "You will be doing lines tonight. Take a seat."
Bellona decides not to tell Maman or Papa or Dora or Anatole about the blood quill. She does not tell any of them about this horrible new scar.
She tells Jeanne, though. And Remus. And Madam Sofia. And Isoseta Aleksi, but not Ukki.
Blaise bandages her hand with the dittany potion Daphne brews for bumps and scrapes, because the basic healing magic they know doesn't seem to be doing anything to the wounds.
Toujours Pur. Something Bellona has no interest in being. Dolores Umbridge seems intent on punishing her for her dirty blood nonetheless.
VI.
Speak to Harry, Remus writes. Ask him his plans for the first Hogsmeade visit.
Bellona hasn't spoken to Harry since the train, too preoccupied with being afraid of Professor Umbridge, of the way her hand never quite seems to stop bleeding, of the way none of the other teachers seem to care. She's afraid of the favour and confidence her housemates find in that woman, more than she feared Draco and Pansy being made prefects. She's afraid that Blaise will get detention next - that he's only been spared this far because no one else seems to have met Sofia Nikolaevna, and so they don't know her secret, not even the fringe of it like Bellona does.
She's afraid, because Harry's hand is bandaged too, and she does not want to invite more horror into her already falling-apart world here at Hogwarts.
But because Remus asks it of her, and because she trusts Remus, she goes to Harry in the library the day after Blanchfleur's latest arrival - already sent off again, to Taivolkovski this time because Aleksi has cracked and revealed her secret to Ukki. His hand is seeping very slightly through his bandages as well, and that makes her feel brave. They must stop this terrible woman, and Remus seems to think Harry has a way to do it.
"Remus says I ought to ask you about Hogsmeade," she says, by way of hello. "Why would he say that?"
Harry blinks up at her, smiles just a little, and scrawls something on a scrap of parchment. By some miracle, it's legible - his writing often isn't - but that leaves her no less confused.
"Keep it quiet," he says. "I'll explain all later."
Bellona cannot help but hold up the hem of her dress when she steps into the Hog's Head, even though her dress only comes to her knees. It's instinct to protect against a floor that dirty.
The whole pub goes quiet at the sight of her and Blaise, and there, of course, in the centre of things, is Ginny Weasley and her brothers.
"Marvellous," Bellona says, planting herself at the table with Ron and Hermione and Harry out of sheer annoyance. "Do you plan on treating me like a villain now as well? There isn't much point in my being here if you're going to refuse to speak, Weasleys."
"Belle," Harry chides. "Please."
"Why should she make nice if they won't?" Blaise asks, returning with what smells very much like ginger wassail in two tall tankards. "Just because we aren't sainted Gryffindors, doesn't mean we're always wrong, Potter."
A murmur goes through the clutch of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws sitting nearby, and Bellona wishes she hadn't come. She promised Remus, though, so she's going to sit through whatever discomfort the Weasleys want to visit on her, and-
Hermione squeezes her hand, startling her. Her smile is a little uncertain, but it's there and it's genuine, and it's a start. Oh. She hadn't expected that at all.
"I've a salve that might help your hand," she says, nodding to Bellona's already staining bandages. "I'll bring it to dinner tonight for you, if that's alright?"
Bellona might be relying on whatever paltry protection Professor Dumbledore is giving her, but she still doesn't like or trust him very much. She says as much to Blaise, who shrugs, because everyone else adores him. It sticks in her throat to belong to something called Dumbledore's Army, but it isn't as though they'll be attending every meeting to which Hermione summons them. She can endure if for Papa and Remus' peace of mind.
"We do what we must," Blaise says. "Come on, before Honeydukes runs out of the aniseed biscuits."
Daphne still looks a little hurt that they left her out of their adventure today, but what are they to do? They cannot ask her to choose between them and her family - neither of them is that cruel.
VII.
Christmas comes, and Bellona finds herself uninvited from Grimmauld Place.
Papa is furious - Remus and Dromeda both write that he's been bullied into place by Dumbledore, who Remus is sure has the best of intentions. Dromeda is a little less sanguine about it. She thinks it's absurd that Bellona should be kept away from her own home, and it takes Bellona and Dora together to convince her that she doesn't really mind.
Blaise and Sofia Nikolaevna are invited to Valence instead, to make up the lack, and Bellona is sure that that will make it better. It will.
Papa writes her reams and reams of letters, and sends as many presents as he can find owls to carry - Harry's Hedwig among them, laden with a long black cloak lined with deep purple satin. He's furious that their first chance at Christmas together has been stolen, and he cannot seem to decide who he's angriest with.
Sense says it ought to be Lord Voldemort, whose snake attacked Mr Weasley. Bellona is much, much angrier with Dumbledore, though, because he is the one who has banned her from her father's house so that he can give its use over to Molly Weasley and her brood.
Jeanne comes out onto the roof with three cups of mulled wine the night after Christmas, and Blaise follows after with blankets and a little fire in a bell jar.
"I hate them," Bellona says. "Why do they have so much more claim to him than I do? What have I done to earn exile?"
Perhaps Blaise should not have been told the full details of why this is Bellona's Christmas. She doesn't care. He's given up Christmas in Helsinki with his stepsisters for this, and she is so grateful to him she could cry if she weren't so angry.
"The great Dumbledore proves himself a disappointment once more," Jeanne says, and Blaise raises his cup in salute. "Oh, Belle, there must be something we can do! Some way to get you to your papa?"
"Not unless we fly to London and somehow spirit him out of his prison-"
"We are not breaking your father out of his house, Belle," Blaise says gently, "but getting you to London… That we can do. Easily. Mama and Madam Juno will surely help."
Jeanne doesn't like London, which makes Blaise laugh and Bellona roll her eyes, and they march across Grimmauld Place with Maman and Madam Sofia behind them. Bellona and Maman are the only ones who can see the house, because they know that it is there, and Jeanne gives a delicate little huff of distaste when it is revealed to her.
"Most wizards are a little cleaner," Blaise whispers, lightening the mood just enough for Bellona to recover her bravery so she can knock on the door.
Papa answers before she's knocked three times, and heaves her into his arms without a word. She thinks he might be crying, but she isn't going to draw attention to that - especially not since she thinks she might be crying too.
"We'll stay out of your way, Molly," Papa says, icy cold, when Mrs Weasley confronts him about Bellona and the others visiting. "Don't worry, you still have complete control of my house."
He herds them into the sitting room with the family tree on the wall, where nobody really likes to sit, and disappears down to the kitchen for food and drinks. Kreacher hovers, spitting near Maman's feet, near Jeanne's and Sofia Nikolaevna's and Bellona's, but for some reason not near Blaise's. Papa kicks him away when he comes back, trays and baskets floating before him, and for once Bellona feels no sympathy for the little creature.
"Arthur is in a bad way," Papa says, "but there's no reason for- I'm so glad you're here, Belle. I'm so glad."
Bellona tucks herself under his arm, Maman on her other side, Blaise and Jeanne and Madam Sofia arranged around the other side of the fire. All that is missing is Remus and Dora, and Daphne, and perhaps Dromeda and her husband of whom she tells stories filled with a gentle, sunny warmth that Bellona does not know but would like to encounter.
"How old were you, Sirius?" Maman asks quietly. "When you left this place?"
"Sixteen. James' parents - Harry's grandparents, that is - they took me in. Left it so I didn't ever have to think of this place as home again. I didn't think I'd ever come back, except to pull it down."
"We could remake it," Bellona says. "Mrs Weasley spent all summer trying to clean it, but we could… We could change the whole house. Make it a better place."
Papa's arm tightens around her shoulders. He looks thoughtful but already defeated. Bellona decides that when all this is done - when he is free, and the war is won, she will have Maman take him away for a while, and she can bring Blaise and Daphne here and they can make it so that he won't even recognise it.
"Belle, chouette," Maman says. "The wall, ma chere!"
The wall under Bellona's palm, where once there was some near-forgotten Black ancestor, is singed away to nothing.
"Well," Papa says, "maybe we'll test Veela fire against my mother's portrait next, what do you think, poppet?"
Papa asks to see her hand, and then he locks himself in his room for two hours. She hears things breaking, and does not ask, but she thinks that maybe he is the angriest she has ever known him.
He tries to heal it, even though he is terrible at healing magic. Maman kisses him on the mouth as a reward, which makes him blush.
There is an army of the Order arrayed to get Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys safe to King's Cross. Bellona feels quite safe knowing that she will have Maman and Madam Sofia - and Jeanne, who when her temper is up has her father's razor-edged teeth - and tries very hard not to mind when Papa is assigned to Harry's care, rather than hers.
But then there comes a knock on the door of Grimmauld Place, and a woman who looks as much like Bellona as Maman does is standing on the step when she answers.
"So you're Bellona," Andromeda Tonks says, with a smile just like her daughter's. "You're much prettier than your father, sweetheart."
"Thank you, Dromeda!" Papa calls. "Make yourself at home, we aren't leaving yet!"
Bellona brings Dromeda into the family tree room, which she and Jeanne have been steadily burning their way through for the past two days. Bellona didn't know she could produce even a little heat in her hands, because that's something only true Veela are supposed to do. While she can't manage much more than to slowly smoulder the cursed wallpaper away, she's been glad to have such an ugly canvas on which to practice her art.
Blaise thinks it's terrifying, and tells her so with a smile on his face.
VIII.
Sybil Trelawney is a Seer. Bellona is sure of that - Albus Dumbledore, who Dromeda terms a collector, would not have scooped her up if she was a charlatan.
That does not prevent Dolores Umbridge's tyranny from catching her unawares, though.
Bellona and Blaise hold back a wave of jeering Slytherins who would rejoice in the poor woman's grief and terror, simply for its existence. What will they say when Professor Hagrid is taken away? Professor Sprout, who has something of a dryad in her spectacular hands? Professor Sinistra, with stars in her hair? That little girl in Ravenclaw who sings so sweetly and sorrowfully that no one can look away?
Bellona?
The school is hollow now, exams and teetering-on-the-brink classrooms and decrees echoing down halls over which Malfoy reigns like a malignant tumour. Bellona is spared his malice only by dint of being in Slytherin, and she has quite enough to concern herself with, now that her hand is cut so deep she's starting to get pins and needles in her fingers.
Marietta Edgecombe is marked by Hermione Granger's fury, and Bellona cannot help but sympathise.
If Dolores Umbridge was threatening her family, she might give Harry over as well.
Blaise and Bellona seem to escape suspicion, more or less, for their role in Dumbledore's Army - perhaps because their companions have always suspected them as spies, perhaps because their house protects them. She doesn't know, but she is weak enough to be relieved that she has no more detentions for a week or two.
Choosing subjects means choosing a career means a private meeting with Professor Snape.
One attended by Professor Umbridge.
"Alright, de Poitiers-"
" Hem hem."
Professor Snape looms like no other man Bellona has ever met, and he does so now. He rises ponderously from his seat and rounds on her like the night, with his great black robes swirling just enough.
"De Poitiers is my very last fifth-year student, Professor," he says, which is true. Every other time he's scheduled this appointment, Professor Umbridge has engaged Bellona in an evening of carving her father's family motto into the back of her hand. "I have suffered your interruptions through every single one of these interviews . You have generally allowed me to go further than their names, so if this is a sign of how you intend to conduct yourself during de Poitiers' time in my office… I would ask that you leave."
"I'll behave, Severus," Dolores Umbridge says, far more flirtatiously than Bellona can stomach. She swallows back bile as Professor Snape retakes his seat, and passes her half a dozen leaflets, so incongruously colourful in the gloom of his office.
"I assume you're looking to become a curse-breaker for Gringotts?" he says, surprising her with his insight. She's talked about it a little with Maman and Papa, and that is what she's been leaning toward - her skill with languages, her natural talent at Transfiguration, her knack for Charms, it seems the best fit. She's just taken aback that Professor Snape knows this, and wonders if he overheard her speaking with Papa or Remus at Grimmauld Place over Christmas. "Might I also suggest writing to the Ministry to inquire about their curse-breaking needs, and…"
Professor Umbridge coughs many times over the course of Bellona's interview. Professor Snape ignores it every time.
IX.
Dearest Bellona,
My stinky cousin tells me he hasn't had proper word you in weeks - are you well? Your letters have been very short since Christmas, and I'm worried for you. Dora hasn't had word from you since Easter, and I know the two of you were playing chess over your letters. It's very rude to leave in the middle of a game, sweetheart. You should write more often.
Harry begins to scream during their History of Magic exam. Bellona has only one question left, and so she is with him even before Hermione Granger.
Belle-
I've asked a few friends who I thought might be able to help, and they all say the same - Umbridge's authority is coming straight from the Minister. The only way around it is by appeal, but since she still sits on the Wizengamot…
Tread carefully. Your father will never forgive me if I let you die.
"I have to go to the Ministry," Harry says, wild with panic. Bellona is so afraid that she cannot even speak, but she knows that she may well be more useful here than there - there, Papa will put himself in harm's way for her sake, even if Harry's vision is true. Here, she might stall the Umbridge bitch and her demonic little band long enough to get Harry and his friends to London. She wants to go to London, but her being a Slytherin might give her just enough leeway to halt any pursuit a precious few moments longer.
"Then we'll find a way," Bellona says. "But first, we must check if Papa is at home. He would not thank us for putting ourselves needlessly in danger. He's never far from a fire - he thinks the house terribly cold."
"The only fire that's still connected to the Floo is in Umbridge's office," Ron says. "We'll need a bloody great distraction to get in there."
Bellona cannot ask Blaise to involve himself in this, not when she knows how lethal the punishment they draw might be - she knows how much Filch is looking forward to making the most of Professor Umbridge's decrees. But she cannot excuse herself from this, even if Papa is not in the Ministry. The time for standing by has passed, passed long ago, passed when Professor Umbridge started using those evil quills on even the first years.
Bellona just hasn't been brave enough to step forward until now.
Little one,
Please, won't you consider coming home? Even if not to us, then to your grandfather. We are all so afraid for you. Please, my darling, please come home. You will be safe here. You are not safe there. You will be safe here, where we have been safe through every war and every difficulty.
Your mother is afraid for you, Bellona. We all are.
She leaves Harry and the rest to their business and marches right to the storeroom nearest Professor Umbridge's classroom. There are protective charms on the door, but since Bellona is not afraid of being caught - is interested in it, even - she doesn't bother with finesse.
Her first curse shimmers against the outermost shield. The next shatters.
A crowd is beginning to gather, pouring out of the classrooms nearest her, but she ignores it. She focuses on cursing the door, and on the heat gathering in her left hand. Jeanne explained what it ought to feel like. She thinks she's nearly there.
Three layers of shielding charms crack under Bellona's anger, and the scars on the back of her left hand seem to burn just as bright as the fire gathering in her palm.
The final charms break open. The door is not even locked underneath them. Bellona does not look at her left hand, does not look at anything except the shelves of those heinous, evil things behind the door.
They catch alight easier than she expected.
Belle,
Your Blaise writes to me that you are being tortured by one of your teachers - does Tante Juno know this? Does your papa? If they do not act soon, I will round up the twins and we will rescue you from that English shithole.
Flint is the one to catch her, taking her down with a tackle around the waist. Too late, Marcus, too slow! The bitch's quills are gone and the others, if they've done their job, will know soon enough whether or not Papa is safe!
"Always wondered if you were as pretty up close as you seem," Flint leers, pinning her to the floor by her wrists, and she lifts her knee as hard into his groin as she can just for the joy of it. She wonders if this is the Black madness of which Dromeda warned her, or the malice Remus warningly remembered in Papa. She doesn't know, and she doesn't much care. All that matters is that she wins - and she will.
Marcus Flint rolls off her, whining like a dog, and she's on her feet before whichever fool crony of his is nearest can make a grab for her. She hasn't lost her wand, either, so she throws up a Shield Charm against whatever hexes they hurl her way, and runs as fast as she can for the kitchens - Papa told her the way in, and she bets none of the others even know where they are.
Before she gets there, Professor Snape catches her by the neck of her robes and throws her into a classroom.
"You will remain here," he says, "until I come back for you."
"No! No, Professor, he has my father! Harry is going-"
"You will remain here," Snape says dispassionately. "It is for your own good, de Poitiers."
Whatever it is he does to the door on his way out, she cannot break the spell. Even her fire won't burn through it.
X.
Belley-
If Snivellus doesn't step in to help against that woman, ask Minerva. She's stern and she's fierce, but she'll stand for you. You can trust her.
We'll settle all this nonsense about the Quidditch Cup over the summer. You can outfly every one of them, and we'll have Blaise and Jeanne on your team, against Harry and Ron and Ginny. I know Jeanne said she's never been on a broom before, but she's a Veela - your mother had never flown without wings the first time I brought her out and she was fine.
I've been thinking about what you said, Belley. About changing the house. I think it could be a good idea. We'll need to burn my mother out of it first, but after that, you can decide whatever you want. I don't doubt you've better taste than me, and it will be your house for longer than it's been mine.
I miss you, Belley. Write back to me, sweetheart.
- Padfoot.
Professor Snape looks worse than usual when he finally arrives to let her out, early the next morning. She has not slept, so doubtless she looks no better, but there is something about him that makes her itch.
There have been feathers in her hair all night. Pinfeathers in her temples and primaries in her plaits, and her hands have been aching with fire under her skin since midnight came alone.
"There was a fight in the Ministry last night," he says. "Your little friends all survived. Your father was… Not so lucky."
He is gone before his words have fully registered, and Bellona thinks - this is a lie. He hates her because she is her father's daughter, and this is a lie engineered to hurt her.
She decides - it is morning. She will go to breakfast. Blaise will be there, and Daphne.
The great hall is full when she gets there, and Blaise and Daphne come running from the far end of the Slytherin table when she steps through the door. After breakfast, she will reply to Papa's latest letter, and they can start to make plans for the house.
"Where've you been, half-breed?" Pansy asks, popping up like the weed she is. "When all your dirty blood-traitor friends were trying to kill the headmistress last night, where did you end up? Marcus says he had you, but-"
"Belle," Blaise says, his arm sliding around her shoulder on reflex. "Belle, we've been so worried-"
Pansy has Belle's wand. Why does Pansy have Belle's wand?
"Marcus says you set fire to the headmistress' quill store with a fireball you made in your hand," Pansy says. "A thing like you doesn't need a wand."
Snap.
Grand-mère and Ukki's hairs shine like starlight between the dark hawthorn of the two halves of Belle's wand.
Pansy's blood is dark red on Belle's hand. Her nose makes a low, satisfying crunch under Belle's knuckles, and she's screaming shrill as a siren when Blaise catches Belle under the arms and heaves her away. Daphne gathers her legs to stop her kicking at Pansy, at Draco, at Vincent and Gregory and anyone else within her reach.
"Belle!" Daphne shouts as they drop her on the floor of the entrance hall, and drop with her to stop her from running back in to kill Pansy Parkinson. "Belle, stop! Tell us what's wrong!"
But she cannot speak, not when her wand is broken and Papa is dead and she is crying so hard.