Author's Note: Theoretically, Harry shouldn't know anything about the flashback dated September 01, 2004. I realize that. But I wanted to put that scene in there. It was inspired by a story I read once upon a really long time ago on quizilla (unfortunately I don't remember the title or author).

Also, I adore the scene between Pansy and Alana. I wish I could've done more with that relationship, because it was so much fun to write.

Finally, I realize that JKR never mentioned anything about Hogwarts students hunting and torturing Muggle-born students. I added that, but it seemed in character for the characters who are doing it. Plus, I wanted to give Alana a chance to be the good guy, for once.

Disclaimer: No copywrite infringement or plagiarism is intended with the Sept. 01, 2004 flashback. Please don't track down the author of that quizilla story and have her Avada Kedavra me.

November 17, 2018

He wasn't sure why he'd suddenly awoken at dawn, but Harry found himself completely unable to go back to sleep. Giving it up as a lost cause, he got up, showered, and dressed.

He was going to go down to the kitchens for breakfast when a trunk caught his eye. It was made of strong yew, with brass hinges and trim. Emblazoned on the lid, he knew, was the Slytherin crest. Harry looked at the chest, which was ducked into an alcove under one of his many bookcases, biting his lip. It was insanely early in the morning to open that can of worms…

But something was drawing him to it. He sighed, defeated, and used his wand to bring the trunk into the middle of the room. Might as well face the memories now, rather than be plagued by them all day.

After Alana had been sent to Azkaban, this trunk had arrived in Minerva McGongall's office. The Headmistress had never opened it, and Harry had inherited it upon his appointment as Headmaster.

Tucked into the trunk were school robes, old textbooks with copious notes and caustic commentary written in the margins, Unmentionable robes, packets of pictures, notes and letters that he and Alana had sent each other during their Ministry days. A million memories were connected with every artifact of this previous life, a thousand images of Alana that contradicted and complemented each other.

He reached into the trunk and pulled out a green and silver tie, the tie that had once marked Alana as a Slytherin. He closed his hand around it, smiling bitterly. What the tie didn't signify was her rank within the close-knit, secretive world of Slytherin House. Her family name had quickly elevated her to a position of honor within the House, not unsimilar to Draco Malfoy's rise to power. As the years rolled on and Voldemort became more and more powerful, stories of the deeds of the Sinclair and Montblanc families became infamous, and Alana's status grew until she was feared nearly as much as the Dark Lord himself. The students of Hogwarts had fashioned for her a new identity- the Princess of Slytherin.

September 01, 2004

The start-of-year feast had just gotten underway when the huge double doors opened, and a single figure glided in.

The seventeen-year-old girl's raven black hair was pulled into a demure ponytail at the nape of her neck, tied with a green satin ribbon. Her chin was parallel to the ground, her back as straight and unbowed as any princess', her jade green eyes sparkling in confidence and challenge.

She walked at a steady, even pace, completely unconcerned by the hundreds of eyes feasting on her. She headed towards the chair that had been reserved for her in the middle of the Slytherin table. A place of honor, where the ruler of the House could survey her subjects.

She had no need to hurry to her seat. It had become tradition in her first year to signal her fellow Slytherins to begin eating. Their meal wouldn't begin until she was seated.

Alana looked perfectly composed as she took her seat and nodded once, allowing her housemates' meal to begin. But it took all of her training to appear impassive as her eyes alighted upon the empty chair opposite her. Draco's chair.

Pansy Parkinson was in her customary seat, to the right of Draco's chair. The two girls stared each other down in nearly open hostility. Pansy had always tried to rub it in Alana's face that she was Draco's acknowledged girlfriend, the one to whom he always returned, no matter how many dalliances he indulged in. But it was Alana who wore Draco's ring, it was Alana who was and always had been Draco's equal partner in ruling their House, and it was Alana who both girls knew was the only one who could truly hold Draco's interest, and his heart. Pansy had only been a cover, a distraction to keep attention off of Draco's love for Alana, and all three had known it.

Alana held her gaze steady as she considered Pansy, but she made sure that the pugfaced pretender noticed when she began playing with her engagement ring, rubbing it into Pansy's ugly face that it would be Alana, not Pansy, who bore the name of Malfoy when the year was over. It was a reminder, as powerful as it was subtle, that it had always been Alana who would marry Draco. Alana and Draco had been bred for each other, after all; Pansy had never stood a chance, however much she wanted him. Pansy's glare darkened, but there was absolutely no way that she could attack Alana either physically or verbally- either Alana would outduel or outwit her in two seconds, or the entourage that fawned around Alana would take her down- and she knew it. So all she could do was remain silently angry.

Alana nodded once in recognition of Pansy's silent capitulation, then leaned back in her chair, only picking at her food as she gazed out over the hall, her mind wandering.

She and Draco had been formally engaged that past summer. It hadn't come as a surprise to anyone (save possibly the Parkinson family); they'd been betrothed since the age of seven. Their parents considered it a joining of money; the Dark Lord, a joining of power that he had engineered long before they were born. Draco and Alana saw those as convenient covers for their reason to marry- the fact that they loved each other.

Alana sighed quietly. She hadn't heard a word from Draco, with the exception of the night of their engagement, since May, when he and Snape had disappeared into the night. It had been hard for her. For seventeen years, Draco had been her best friend, the only one who could see into those parts of herself that she hid so well. Over time, he had grown into her partner, her protector, her lover. Now she didn't have a clue whether or not he was even alive, let alone safe.

Blaise Zabini looked up from his plate to see how unusually pale Alana was, how tired her eyes looked, how unhappy she seemed. When he caught her eye, he gave her a reassuring smile. He was still there for her, watching out for her, as he had promised Draco he would do. Draco had written to Blaise the night after he fled Hogwarts, practically begging Blaise to keep Alana safe from all harm until Draco could come back to take her away. Blaise had promised to guard her with his life, and he would do so.

Alana gave him a small smile before turning to chat with Blaise's girlfriend Emily, pulling herself together and putting on her game face. The distant, confident face that the world knew so well. The face of a daughter of one of the oldest and most aristocratic Pureblood families in the world. The face of a princess of steel and ice. The emotionless mask that the world thought was Alana Montblanc.

The face of the Princess of Slytherin.

Harry sighed, sitting on the ground. Yes, Alana had been an ice princess. But he'd seen another side to her the very first time they spoke…

November 21, 2001

Hermione Granger ran through the halls of Hogwarts, frantically trying to escape the trio of Slytherins pursuing her. This was the one part of her experience at Hogwarts that she and her two best friends never discussed- the Mudblood hunting.

Adrian Flint, a seventh year, his brother Marcus, a fourth year, and Draco Malfoy, a third year like she, were the hunters today. Even though she was abnormally intelligent and talented for her age, there was no way Hermione could fend off three attackers at once.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from a dark side hallway and pulled Hermione. Another hand covered her mouth to stifle her yelp. Hermione turned to find herself face-to-face with none other than the one who Ron had pointed out to her as Lady Alana Montblanc.

"Stay here. Be quiet," Alana hissed before stepping out to meet her housemates. "Evening, gentlemen. What's afoot?"
"Hello, Princess," Adrian greeted her, smiling on her lasciviously, to Draco's disgust. "We're hunting that Mudblood bitch Granger. Care to join us?"
A small, emotionless smile flitted across Alana's face. "Ah. Makes sense now- she ran through here a while ago. Headed toward the library, I think."
"Thanks, Princess," Adrian said. "Sure you don't want to come?"
"No, I'm on my way to speak with Professor Snape about my Potions homework," Alana lied smoothly. "I'll see you later, boys."

When they were gone, Alana turned to see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley running towards Hermione. When they saw Alana, they whipped out their wands and trained them on her.

"What do you want, Montblanc?" Ron snarled. "Come to go Mudblood hunting?"
Alana indulged in an eye roll, but made no move to reach for her wand. "I love how you automatically assume that I'm hunting Granger, Weasley, even though no one in this school has ever caught me putting down any of the Muggle-borns. But I have no intention of explaining myself to you. You won't step out of your bias to listen, so I won't waste my breath."

She turned on her heel and started walking away, only to be stopped by Hermione calling her name. Alana turned, but didn't return to the Trio.

"Thank you," Hermione said simply.
"Wait," Harry said, confused. "You saved Hermione just now? Why?"
"Because I don't condone Slytherins putting others down," Alana replied evenly. "Our House wasn't set up to foster elitist blood fanatics who justify murder and barbarism."
"Why are you in Slytherin?" Harry asked, nonplussed. "No Slytherin ever cared for anyone but themselves. You should be in Ravenclaw, Gryffindor maybe."
A mirthless smile quirked her lips. "How much do you know of the wizarding world, Potter?"
"I know enough," he replied defensively.
"How much do you know of my family, then?" Alana asked. "Ask Weasley. He could tell you all the stories of what my family's done. Ask Granger to tell you all the varieties of Dark witches and wizards my family has bred. Then you'll understand why I can't be anywhere other than Slytherin, and why I can't change what's already been done."

She turned on her heel and walked away again. Harry shook his head and called out.

"Just because your family's Dark doesn't mean you have to be. Their choices don't have to be yours."

Alana paused, but didn't turn. For a moment she just stood there silently, before she sighed.

"Yes they do," she said softly, before walking away.

Harry shook his head as he came out of his memories. He'd come to know her incredibly well in the years following that conversation… But in the end, she'd just become more of a mystery than she had been when they met.