Violet stared at the second owl. The first had been carrying her O.W.L. results, and had left with the ones that had been carrying Ron and Hermione's once they'd been relieved of their letters, but she didn't recognize this one.

"Can't be anything bad." Ron reasoned. "Ministry checks everything before it gets here, since Dad's a department head and, well, you're here a lot." Violet nodded, and quickly removed the letter.

To Ms. Violet Ravenna Potter,

Recent events in the world have triggered a provisional portion of your parents' will, and as such we request your presence at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Gringotts Bank

"I'm supposed to go to Gringotts apparently." Violet said, blinking rapidly. "Looks like my parents had something in their will that just got triggered by 'recent events in the world'." She frowned, wondering what, exactly, that meant. Nobody had ever said anything about her parents being seers or the like, so what exactly had they predicted that required a special portion of their will?

"I can take you." Fleur offered. "I have access to the Gringotts Floo. First two floors only, but it will get you in." Mrs. Weasley looked torn between genuine gratitude and her distaste for the French witch, and settled on nodding shortly.

"Thank you. I will have to let the Ministry know you're moving though, just a moment, I'll talk to Arthur." She said, exiting the kitchen to head towards the living room and the fireplace. Fleur gave a small smile and left as well, leaving Violet with Ron and Hermione.

"You'll let us know, whatever it is?" Hermione asked. She looked worried, though admittedly she'd been worrying about Violet since she'd told them about the prophecy earlier. Maybe even before...probably even before, if Violet was being honest.

"Of course." She said quickly, nodding. "Maybe it'll be a magic sword." She chuckled, putting a bright spin on it. Ron perked up.

"The Potter family is really old." He told her. "It might actually be a weapon or something, that they marked to bring out if a war happened while you were alive." Violet wrinkled her nose.

"I mean...what's better than a wand?" She asked. "A sword can't attack from a distance or anything." And that was how she got a lecture from Hermione and Ron about the legacy and importance of magical weapons until Mrs. Weasley came to rescue her an hour later so Fleur could take her to Gringotts.

Once at Gringotts, Fleur had led her off to meet with one of the Goblins, a rather austere looking older fellow by the name of Holhook. As she said goodbye to Fleur, Violet vaguely wondered if Ginny and Hermione were upset she didn't have the same instinctive, negative reaction to the part Veela, or if they'd expected it. She brushed that aside as unimportant in the moment, and instead focused on following Holhook.

"Thank you for coming so promptly Miss Potter." The Goblin said brusquely as he led her through a confusing and downward mass of corridors. Probably purposefully confusing, which made sense she supposed. "So few wizards understand the value of time."

"It wasn't a problem." Violet said quickly, nodding as she followed him into a small room. At the center of said room was a table, and on the table was a rather large wooden trunk the color of rust. She blinked. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this. Holhook handed her a sealed envelope.

"Your parents' will states that the contents of this letter, and the trunk, are to be viewed by you and you alone." The Goblin said as Violet turned the letter over in her hands. "Once I leave this door will be sealed, and will not be opened again until you knock on the door four times. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Violet said quickly, nodding. Holhook nodded sharply and left the room, closing the door with a loud thud. She stared at the letter, turning it over and over again in her hands. She'd never read anything written by her parents before, not either of them. She didn't blame them for not writing 'in case we die' letters. They'd been young, not a whole lot older than she was now, and there'd been no real reason to believe that she'd manage to live if they died. As far as she knew her mother's sacrifice had been a spur of the moment thing, not some sort of plan.

She shook her head shortly. She was getting lost in her thoughts and ignoring what was in front of her again. She needed to focus. Taking a deep breath, she opened the envelope.

Dearest Violet,

If you're reading this it means two things have happened. The first is that we have died, and the second is that one of what your dad termed 'Holy shit holy shit Oh Merlin holy shit' events has occurred (at the time I'm writing this there are seven, but we may think of more before you read this).

The chest before you is known as the Doomsday Chest, and is an artifact of the Potter family, created by our (well, their, I'm only a Potter by marriage obviously) ancestor, Ignotus Peverell, and his two brothers. They were all skilled enchanters, masters at magical crafting, and it is said that it is only to be opened by a member of the family in the direst of circumstances. We allowed Professor Dumbledore to examine it. He did so twice, the second time with a man named Nicholas Flamel (don't know if you've heard of him or not) and confirmed that it is still magical and should be functional, though neither were able to tell what it does.

If it has lasted this long it should still be functional when you read this. Please believe us when we say that we planned this out carefully, and would not have recommended this if it were not something we believed to be truly safe, and the circumstances driving this part of our will to be activated truly dire.

Be careful, be safe, and know that we love you, my darling daughter.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Violet swallowed as she read the letter a second time, rereading her mom's words, giving a weak chuckle at the description of her father's name for the 'event'. She closed the letter, folding it carefully and putting it in her pocket, then turned to the chest, looking it over. It was rather large, but otherwise it seemed normal enough to her. Still, with magic being what it was that didn't mean much. The tents Mr. Weasley had borrowed for the World Cup had looked normal even when setting them up.

There was no lock, just a simple latch, which Violet flipped open easily enough. She took a deep breath, then opened the lid and leaned in to look. She blinked at how deep the thing seemed to be, even more so than the prison cell in Moody's trunk. But there was a light at the bottom, she could see it. She frowned, leaning in closer, then let out a loud yelp as she suddenly started to fall! She hadn't been leaning that far forward, it was like the trunk was sucking her in!

Then, suddenly, she was opening her eyes, lying in a bed, gasping for breath and shaking beneath the bedspread. "What...the fuck?" She yelped, sitting up and looking around. She glanced down. Instead of the Muggle jeans and t-shirt she'd been wearing, she was clad in soft, smooth pajamas (silk she thought, but she'd never owned anything silk so couldn't be sure), that were a cool silver with a red lining. She frowned and took stock of the room. It wasn't very big, not much more than her room at the Dursley's, and she was in a four poster bed not unlike her bed in the Gryffindor Tower. She frowned, noting the wardrobe and the half full and haphazardly organized bookcase full of textbooks, the former next to a vanity that looked not well used but well stocked.

"...the fuck am I?" She murmured. This wasn't the Burrow, it wasn't St. Mungo's, it wasn't the Leaky Cauldron, and it wasn't the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. That was pretty much every place she could think of that someone would take her after an accident at Gringotts so where…

She let out another yelp as a flood of images and thoughts and information rushed into her brain all at once. The flood continued for...a good while longer than she'd have liked, honestly, but finally it faded, leaving Violet to shake some more as she processed what now felt like a very overfull brain. She didn't think she'd forgotten anything, but there was suddenly a second set of memories, pushing and budging for space in her mind.

As clearly as she remembered living with the Dursleys, she remembered living in the Potter Mansion. As clearly as she remembered having to deal with Dudley she remembered helping her little brother Ja...James, with her parents Lord Fleamont Potter and Lady Euphemia Potter. As clearly as she remembered rejecting Slytherin at her Sorting she remembered the Hat chuckling and telling her she'd get the joke later before putting her in Slytherin, and the shock at being the first Potter to go to that House in decades.

Now she...she was Ravenna Violet Potter, heir to the House of Potter, Sixth Year Slytherin student, as much as she was Violet Ravenna Potter, the Girl Who Lived, Sixth Year Gryffindor student. And as surely as she knew that, she knew the date. Saturday, September 2nd, 1967. She groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. "Why me?" She murmured weakly, staring up at the canvas top of the four poster.

At least the trunk, and it had to have been the trunk, had sent her back on a weekend. She wasn't up for classes, she'd likely throw baby Lucius Malfoy off a tower if she had to try and learn shit right now while dealing with this.

That thought made her stop and think. She was in Slytherin, while Voldemort was still recruiting for his first war. Oh dear hell that was complicated. She thought about it for a long moment, sorting through her new memories. Strangely enough, everyone seemed to be...fairly neutral? Ravenna didn't seem to have any rivals, let alone enemies, but she also didn't seem to have any friends. Even the Professors seemed to take a neutral stance on her. Only her family had a definite, firmly positive bent towards her. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but she pushed it aside. At least she wouldn't have to fake any strong feelings towards anybody. The hardest part would not being calling her dad, well, Dad, or Lupin Professor. And resisting the urge to throw baby Peter off a tower.

She slowly clambered out of bed, thinking things over. She...she might have a chance here. The majority of people who'd wind up being Death Eaters weren't just here with her, they were children. Growing, learning, changing, children. For all that they had prejudices and issues, nobody was actually a Death Eater yet. Some bullies, sure, but no murderers, no torturers, just...children. Maybe...just maybe...she could help some of them be better? It was a long shot, she wasn't a therapist or an orator, she was a student like them still. But there was a chance, and it seemed to her like it was a better route to go then treating her house mates with distrust and dismay.

Then there was a knock on the door. "Potter, you up? Breakfast!" A feminine voice called from the other side. Violet blinked. Right, other people.

"Just woke up!" She called back. "Be right out!" She began slipping out of her pajamas, kicking them into a corner as she walked towards the wardrobe. She caught sight of her reflection and paused to consider it. There were some changes. She wasn't wearing her glasses, something that she supposed should have been obvious but hadn't occurred to her until just now. Her breasts and hips seemed bigger than before, perhaps a result of a more consistently good diet. And...no scar on her forehead. She stared at the unblemished spot, then at the back of her hand and then her arm. The marks of Umbridge and the Basilisk were gone too.

She shook her head, shoving the mixed feelings about...pretty much all of that down for later, and got dressed, still a little weirded out by the silver and green trim to her robes and of her tie, then hurried to the door, hopping a little as she pulled her trainers on. She opened the door, and blinked at the sight of the other girl waiting for her. She was younger, not as worn, and maybe a bit happier seeming, but there was no mistaking that mane of black curls, or her purple eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange...no, Bellatrix Black was her 'wake up call'.

Three thoughts immediately ran across Violet's mind. The first was that there might not be anyone better to try and sway away from Voldemort than this young woman. The second was the panicked realization that the young, pre-Azkaban Bellatrix was gorgeous. And the third was that she'd like to be Bellatrix's friend if she could, fueled by the first two realizations in equal measure.

No sooner had the third thought crossed her mind than did a new wave of memories hit her poor, befuddled brain. The formerly present, purely neutral interactions with Bellatrix vanished, and instead she remembered sitting with the girl on the Hogwarts Express at age 11, remembered Bellatrix grinning when she sat down next to the other girl after being Sorted, and then another four years of friendship after that. Classes, Hogsmeade trips, studying for O.W.L.s together and more.

With a jolt, Violet realized that the trunk hadn't given her neutral standing with everybody, it had given her a chance to decide what her relationships were like. Rather than putting her through what Ravenna had done, or what she would have done in this time, it was letting her make the most of her knowledge and goals. What the fuck kind of gods of magic had Ignotus Peverell and his brothers been?

She pushed those thoughts down too, and focused on Bellatrix. Fortunately everything going on in her head seemed to have happened very fast on the outside world. "Potter?" She asked simply, raising an eyebrow playfully in an effort to test if the new memories were real to this strange new reality. "After all this time?" Bellatrix smirked.

"Felt like it, not sorry. Tomorrow I'll purr your name through the keyhole, Ravenna." Bellatrix drew Violet's middle/first name out with a wicked look in her eyes, and Violet entirely failed to suppress a shiver, something that the suddenly triumphant look in Bellatrix's eyes made clear.

"I don't know if I'd go that far." She said, clearing her throat awkwardly as she stepped into the hallway. Much to her dismay, Bellatrix didn't step back, staying firmly in Violet's personal space as she closed the door. It did help clarify that Bellatrix was, in fact, tiny though. She'd seemed so big in the Ministry, but Violet would guess she was actually 18 centimeters taller than the other girl. "I'd settle for you calling me Violet." Bellatrix wrinkled her nose cutely.

"Violet's a simple name, doesn't suit you." She said firmly, then turned around and walked away. Violet blinked and huffed, following Bellatrix into the common room, glad that her wave of memories included knowledge of how the Slytherin Dungeon was laid out.

"It's my name, excuse you." She protested. Part of her was screaming to be less nice to the girl, less friendly, to remember Neville. Another part of her was reminding the first that none of that had happened yet. And a third was the part that was firmly stuck in the questionably real memories of her friendship with Bellatrix.

"Your middle name, nobody cares about that." Bellatrix replied dismissively.

"I like it."

"That's because you're silly, and befriending me is the only time you've ever shown any taste." Bellatrix retorted, though there was a smirk on her face that made Violet's knees weak. "Now c'mon, before everyone else eats all of breakfast." She stepped through the portrait hole, and Violet shook her head before following. This...was going to be an experience.