Chapter 9: What If

Arthur Weasley came out of a Muggle car the Ministry had loaned him, and shortly Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry followed suit. They now stood outside the car, with their luggage held firmly in their hands. Harry's owl, Hedwig was meanwhile peeved at Pigwidgeon for hooting far too wildly with excitement in her cage.

After smiling warmly at Mrs. Weasley, who had now come out of the car, Harry turned around to face the large railway terminus station in the northern edge of central London. He could already imagine the whistles ushering out of the steam engine of Hogwarts Express in his ears. An unadulterated smile quickly flashed over his features, and his green eyes soaked with anticipation, he yearned to sniff the scent of mystery and unknown that seeped out of each brick at Hogwarts.

Harry turned around to face Ginny; she flashed him a smile with her friendly brown eyes that were much like her mother's. "Well, ready?" she asked kindly, but he nodded in response expressionlessly, initiating Hermione and Ron to communicate silently with one another. The two knew something odd had occurred to Harry ever since he had returned to the Burrow with Tonks. He had not spoken to them at all about where he had been, or what he had been doing during the few days they had not heard from him at all. Additionally, Hermione had a niggling feeling that Harry knew what the destroyed prophecy had contained; she could see it in Harry's conduct and eyes; she sighed, and turned around to Harry, giving him a faint grin, while her bushy hair wafted with the wind. Shortly, the Weasleys, Harry and she began to trot forwards into King's Cross, arriving between the barrier of platform nine and ten.

Harry turned to Mr. Weasley and noticed that his face was sparked in what seemed to be excitement. Mr. Weasley was looking at his wife with eyes glowering in anticipation. Molly shook her head at her husband and said, "O.W.L it to him, I think he'd appreciate it more that way, Arthur." Mr. Weasley nodded in response with a sigh and much relent, but his face quickly returned to its warm and placid expression. Harry wondered what Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had been talking about, when suddenly he felt himself wrapped in Mrs. Weasley's robust arms. Soon, Mrs. Weasley had given Ron (who had yelled "MUM!" in embarrassment) and Ginny a hug too. Crookshanks had leapt out of Hermione's arm, and Hermione was running after her cat, so she had been lucky enough to have been spared from Molly Weasley's tight embraces.

Mrs. Weasley gave a motherly exhalation – one that screamed with the thought 'they're growing up too fast', and turned around to face a large clock placed high up on one of the tall pillars at King's Cross. "Not much time left," she frowned, "I-I guess we should go in and wait with the other families," she stammered.

"Mum, please don't cry," Ginny wailed sarcastically, her mother chortled warmly in response. After forced laughter with Hermione and Ron, Harry turned around to see if any Muggle onlookers were nearby. Once being completely sure that not a single Muggle in his environs would notice what he would do next – he ran towards the barrier, and no sooner that he had, he was met with a blast of sound; the blended sound of cheers, weeps and laughter of Wizarding families departing with their children and loved ones.

Harry turned around, and found four redheads tottering towards him, and Hermione with her unkempt brown hair. "How splendid," Mr. Weasley smiled, "reminds me of the time I'd go to Hogwarts. Wish I could go again—" Mr. Weasley's attention suddenly changed directions, and he flashed a warm smile towards wherever he was looking: Harry reeled his head around to where Mr. Weasley's eyes were seated and found a familiar friend coming out of the crowd towards them. "Ah, the young Longbottom! How are you doing Neville?" Harry heard Mr. Weasley beam.

Neville was holding an odd sort of plant in his hands, he had his usual expression plastered across his face; confusion mingled with friendliness. He always tended to seem lost, though Harry now knew well enough that it was just Neville's usual bearing.

Harry's green eyes trailed Neville's round face; Harry wondered if Neville might have been a different person today if he had grown up under the guidance of his parents. An image of a woman with black curly hair cascading around an elegant face twirled into Harry's mind – his jaws tightened, and his hands morphed into fists. "H-Harry, are you okay?" he heard Neville stammer. Harry started out of his thoughts, and looked around to find the worried stares of his friends set upon him.

"Oh – y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied, stammering to Neville, and not revealing the pit of anger he constantly slipped in and out of, ever since the day he had spotted those silken curls at Gringotts.

He could not flung memories of Bellatrix out of his mind.

How would Neville feel if he came to know that the woman who had caused his mother to reside in St. Mungo's – now also held his mother's wand? It was not fair – life was not fair.

Ting – Ting

Harry looked around frantically, and realized it had just been the bell ringing – only a minute was left until eleven when Hogwarts Express would start to depart, he turned around to face Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and flung them a smile. "Stay safe, all of you!" Mrs. Weasley cried, as Harry began to run towards the train with his friends closely behind.

He jumped up into the train, and waved his hand in good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley – his eyes unexpectedly fell on a woman with white-blonde hair; she was flashing a warm smile to her son. Narcissa's eyes quickly fell on Harry, and her golden eyebrow wrinkled; abruptly, she turned around – disappearing into the crowd. What had occurred in Madam Malkins between Bellatrix and Narcissa sprung into Harry's mind, but he thrust the memory aside when he overheard Hermione and Ron chattering about Defense Against the Dark Arts behind him – "I wonder whose going to teach D.A.D.A," Hermione said, as she walked alongside Ron down the corridor.

"Where should we sit?" Harry called after them. Hermione sharply turned around, her face turning apologetic– "Oh right," Harry quickly muttered, not wishing for Hermione to feel as though he was feeling left out (though he was), "prefect meeting." Sharply, he turned around to Neville who was gawking at the plant he held in his hands with fondness. "Let's find a compartment," he said to him. Neville raised his gaze up from the plant and nodded in retort. Curtly, they began to walk through the corridor, brushing past a heap of other students.

They had leapt on the train quite late, and consequently most of the compartments were taken. Neville sighed, feeling tired and weary of walking back and forth through the corridors to find an empty compartment. "Harry, I think we should sit with some of the first years," Neville complained.

Harry's attention was taken elsewhere; he found one of the compartment doors slightly open. He walked towards it, and found a girl seated within the compartment, holding The Quibbler in her hand, with odd flowers pinned into her hair. "Luna?" Harry whispered. The girl smacked The Quibbler onto her lap, and turned her face around to Harry. Instantly, Harry found familiar protruding eyes staring at him.

"Oh, it's you, Harry," Luna grinned, "and Neville too!" she quickly added, beaming, as she spotted the other adolescent behind Harry.

"Can we sit here?" Harry asked. Luna quickly nodded, and Harry smiled in response, relieved to have finally found a compartment. He walked in, making himself comfortable in a spare seat while Luna turned her attention back to The Quibbler, which she was holding upside down. Neville had seated himself too, beside Luna and he had returned to stare at the odd plant he was holding with affection. Luna's eyes travelled away from The Quibbler to the plant Neville was holding, and inquired about it; they began to converse animatedly, while Harry looked outside the window at the green fields the train was passing by. Harry felt at peace and smiled dimly, placing his head onto the window, and closing his eyes. It had been a while since he had slept well, his mind had always busied itself with thoughts – but more often than not, Harry purposefully tried to remain awake at night, for whenever he fell into a slumber, he would perceive his death at Voldemort's hands...

The Prophecy…

Neither can live while the other survives…

Harry did not have a choice – he had to kill Voldemort. His destiny had already been written from the moment Voldemort had chosen him as his rival when he had been a meager child in his crib. Harry suddenly recalled his mother and father's warm faces, watching him through the Mirror of Erised. They had sacrificed their lives so that he could live – and now the Wizarding world was awaiting for him to risk his life, so that their lives and of their loved ones would no longer be in danger. It seemed to Harry that his parents had saved his life for nothing; the Wizarding world would not let his parents dying efforts of keeping him alive thrive. To Harry, it precipitously appeared that people were fundamentally selfish. They had called him 'the Chosen Boy' and the "Boy Who Lived' – putting slogans on him, morphing him into their savior, so that one day if the need arisen he would save them, and they wouldn't have to risk their own lives.

Mirages of his parents' affectionate faces circled around in his mind, while the steam engine was tooting off in the distance, and the train's juddering was shaking him gently. Neville and Luna's conversation were becoming incoherent to Harry's ears; they were meshing with the whistling of the steam engine, and rhythmic shaking of the train. Soon, Harry had fallen asleep — his sleep was dreamless, for a while.

oOo

A few hours earlier…

It was an awfully beautiful morning, much in contrast to the previous dreary days London had suffered from. The sun was shining brightly, casting its rays on a certain raven-haired witch; causing her hair to appear a dark silvery-blue. Bellatrix had her slender hands shoved in a grey sweater, and was sporting plain blue jeans, as she strolled down the street to 12 Grimmauld Place in order to obtain a certain keepsake, her hair was billowing with the pleasant wind. She couldn't Apparate into 12 Grimmauld Place from the Leakey Cauldron (where she had stayed during the previous few days), for her mind could not concentrate well on a thing for too long, and to Apparate one had to focus fully on their destination – and thus for Bellatrix, Apparition had currently been out of the question.

Her heels tapped on the ground, and they finally stopped tapping when she stood still on the sidewalk, before the area between 11 and 12 Grimmauld Place. Of course, the oblivious Muggles around her did not recognize that there was a residence located right in front of them, due to the charms and spells that had been casted on the very old mansion. She glanced around, looking to see if any Muggles were nearby, and after being sure no one was watching, although she was sure a Muggle repellent charm had been casted on Number 12, she let Number 12 shove the adjacent houses away; it shortly revealed the worn steps that lead up to its large front door. Abruptly, she went up the steps, flung the door open, and commenced to walk through the corridor, apathetic towards the portraits of her ancestors that were gawking at her in frightened dispositions (as they had beheld what she had done to Aunt Walburga's portrait).

Bellatrix could hear Kreacher's voice; the elf was talking to himself, though he believed he was speaking to his 'Mistress', as in the late Aunt Walburga. "Mistress!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Kreacher thinks his Mistress looks beautiful today!" he cried. Bellatrix rolled her dark eyes, and began to walk up the creaking curved staircases that lead up to the first floor, where she had found Sirius's diary in the room at the very end of the corridor.

Her eyes wandered across the unwelcoming and worn wallpapers, her heels drumming on the ground. At last, she arrived to the end of the hallway, and pushed the door open, hearing a creak. She spotted the diary; it donned a red leather cover with 'S' written across it in beautiful golden calligraphy. She inhaled deeply, nearly staggering as she reached the diary that lay deserted on the floor. She knelt, and with a trembling hand picked it up; soon placing a Shrinking Charm on it, and gently plopping it and the hawthorn wand into the large front pocket of her baggy sweater.

She sighed in, and glanced up at the clock that hung on one of the walls sporting faded emerald-colored wallpaper. It was around eight in the morning, and she had already packed and readied her luggage (not that she had many clothes or possessions) for the train that would come in the next few hours and take her to Hogwarts, where she would teach Potions. Dumbledore had persuaded her into taking the post; expressing how Hogwarts was the safest place she could stay; that she would receive a nice monthly wage; and that she wouldn't have to spend on a place to rent or food, as she would receive a pleasant chamber at Hogwarts to reside in, and would have all the food she wanted from the Kitchens for free. The offer had been agreeable, and Bellatrix knew nobody else would hire her (seeing as she had quite the history), so she hadn't really had the choice to decline.

'A cup of coffee would be nice', Bellatrix quickly thought to herself, as she began to stride out of the room where Sirius had stayed before he had… she didn't let her thoughts stream further.

She thrust the door open, and heard what sounded like humming emit from a drawing room also situated on the first floor. Slowly, she trudged towards the room where she had heard the sound issue, and to her surprise she found the boney house-elf singing to himself in a feeble and scrawny voice, as he brushed non-existent dust off of a tapestry that he seemed quite infatuated with.

Bellatrix's dark eyes were suddenly glued on the tapestry.

While ignoring the deranged house-elf she neared it. Kreacher glared up at her with glowering eyes, but did not want to imagine what the infamous Bellatrix Black would do if provoked, and so he did not speak up about how greatly it riled, and angered him to see her so near the tapestry he treasured so dearly. He grumbled, and began to mutter incoherent profanities, as he trekked away from the tapestry and out of the room, leaving Bellatrix completely alone before it.

Her dark eyes were fastened on the tapestry, meticulously scanning each face that evoked a memory in her mind. Her eyes darted away from viewing a great-uncle that had died when she had been a child to Uncle Orion and his wife, Aunt Walburga. Her eyes reeled down to the face of Regulus Black, Sirius's brother. She hadn't been as close to him, he had been far too the perfect son just as Narcissa had been the faultless pureblood daughter. Sirius and Bellatrix relationship had contrived at a young age due to similar dilemmas; both had been first-children that had not been beheld with fondness by their parents, while their younger aforementioned siblings were doted upon.

Bellatrix's eyes then lingered for a few minutes on the dark imperfection that hid Andromeda's face and name – she wondered how her sister had been doing for all these years, what had become of her – had she changed? She had had a closer relationship with Andromeda than Narcissa. Narcissa had always been the precious family darling – always the epitome of pureblood femininity and womanhood.

Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows as thoughts concerning Narcissa persisted in her mind, but while doing so her eyes spotted the dark blemish covering Sirius's face and name – her slender hand rose from her side, and she rubbed the spot in the tapestry where Sirius's image had been with trembling fingers, thinking the dark mark would disappear and she would be met with Sirius's lighthearted face, though knowing how foolish her notion was. Abruptly, her dark eyes began to become starry with tears, and she let her hand fall down to her side when the dark imperfection loitered.

She twirled her head around from the tapestry with a lamenting sigh. Walburga had made it her personal responsibility to remove the images of the individuals she had deemed as disgraceful. Bellatrix wondered for a splitting second if her image would be blasted off the tapestry if Aunt Walburga had been alive, considering her current disposition.

She then sluggishly began to walk out of the room, and strode up the stairs to the second floor to view what had been Sirius's room in his childhood and adolescence. She arrived before the room – it had 'Sirius' written on its large door in big print. She twirled the doorknob, marched into the room, and was met with draperies, furniture and faded wallpaper, all in gold and red. She chuckled weakly, knowing very well how Sirius had always tried to peeve his parents by showing off his Gryffindor pride.

On one of the walls, she suddenly spotted a picture of four individuals, but she could not see the picture clearly, so she neared it. For a second, she had believed Harry had been in the picture when she quickly realized it was James, his father, and Sirius's closest friend. Quickly, she turned her attention towards the man standing beside James; it was Sirius. His dark eyes were glazed with mischief, and his lips were turned upwards into a bright smile, as he waved his hands in the picture lively.

Bellatrix's lips curled into a nostalgic smirk, as she traced Sirius's face with her finger. She then tried to remove the picture from the wall, but the picture would not budge. She slid her hand into her grey sweater and removed her hawthorn wand, and incanted an anti-Charm few knew for the Permanent Sticking Charm that had been casted on the picture. Voldemort had taught her the anti-charm, as she had become almost his apprentice, learning some of the spells he had learned through his endeavors at acquiring knowledge few knew of. She had been his closest lieutenant – most trusted servant; she had gained knowledge of spells and charms most Death Eaters would only dream of attaining—

The picture finally budged, and fell into the palm of her hands, grasping her out of her thoughts. She smiled at the image of Sirius in the picture, and shortly recalled how she had desired a nice warm cup of coffee.

After securing the picture in the front pocket of her loose grey sweater, where the hawthorn wand was placed and Sirius's diary, she nippily hurried away from 12 Grimmauld Place, as though her essence was trying its best to leave the past behind, though her mind clung on to it like a leech. Soon, she arrived to a small little Muggle marketplace by chance; it was a few stops away from Grimmauld Place. She spotted a small French café and entered it. An old man with a very large and pointed mustache was standing behind the counter. Bellatrix neared the French sweets and delicious pastries encased in a glass screen. She then approached the French Muggle who stood behind the counter, after arriving at a choice. "I'd like one of those," she said to him, "and regular coffee– no sugar," she hastily added with her cool voice.

The Muggle nodded, "Oui, Madame!" and grabbed the pastry she had ordered, and shortly came forward with a cup of coffee in his hand. Bellatrix hoisted the cup out of his hand, and grabbed the brown paper bag he had put the pastry in. She turned around to find herself a seat in the café, when she thought she had heard him say Sirius's name.

Rapidly, she wrung her head around. "Excuse me?" she asked, her voice streaked with shock.

The French man gazed at her warmheartedly, "Oh, Madame. I said you shouldn't be so serious — smile!" he exclaimed, "I know you must have a beautiful smile, Madame," he beamed kindly at her.

'There's nothing to smile about,' she thought, involuntarily, but didn't pronounce her thought aloud, rather – she glared at the man with her usual cold and unemotional gaze. Nevertheless, she did not know how the man had reacted upon perceiving her surly behavior, as she had quickly turned her back to him, and had impulsively made her way to the nearest table to sit down and devour what she had ordered.

oOo

Presently…

The train continued to steadily shake Harry, who had his eyes closed and had his head rested against the window. All was the same in the compartment; Luna and Neville were still seated, talking amiably with one another, leaving Harry asleep so he could rest – though, Harry would not remain in a tranquil state for long. His mind had arisen to evoke a nightmare that he seemed to witness each time he fell asleep – his eyebrows rutted as he began to perceive the dreadful dream…

It was dark and damp in the cell, Harry could only hear the sound of water as it trickled down from the cold brick walls, and dripped down to the ground. His hands and feet were shackled, as he sat crouched in the corner of the cell, and heard the bars of the cell open. A figure strode in– Harry could see the figure's slitted-crimson eyes blaze through the darkness that engulfed him. The figure lifted his hand, pointing his wand at him – "Avada—"

The vision began to dim and dim, the sound of water dribbling down the walls began to muffle, until they arrived at a complete lull. To Harry's surprise, he found himself somewhere else – he was at 12 Grimmauld Place. Quickly, Harry realized he was witnessing a memory…

He was sitting in front of the fireplace, and had just asked the woman who was seated beside him on a sofa what had gone through her mind when she had killed his godfather. Silence had commenced; minutes and minutes had passed by. Harry could hear the sound of burning wood reverberate around the room, while he had come to believe he would never receive an answer – but he had – oh he had…

"I didn't think," she had said, with a voice engraved in agony—

Abruptly, the memory began to warp into mistiness until it blasted into oblivion. Harry found himself in a very different setting...

He was running his hand through silken dark hair. He could feel the velvety texture of this woman's hair, as it fell through the gaps of his fingers. Soon, he gently dived his face into nape of her ivory-skinned neck, inhaling her scent, while he wrapped his hands around her slender waist. She sharply turned around in surprise, and he found himself staring at glistening dark eyes—

Harry immediately shot out of his sleep, and was gasping uproariously. Those eyes – those eyes – he very well knew to whom those eyes belonged. He shook his head, swiped perspiration off his forehead with a trembling hand, and brushed his hair with shaky fingers. Neville and Luna were looking at him in surprise, their alarmed expressions soon altered into worry. In harmony, they quickly asked, "Harry, are you alright?"

There were a few moments of silence in the compartment; Harry gawked at them with wide-eyes while they stared back with equally enlarged eyes. Neville and Luna watched Harry, as he opened his mouth – Harry was trying to say something to distill the awkwardness, but instead his mouth sprung close again when he suddenly heard the sound of a cart reeling in the corridor – "Snacks. Treats. Drinks. Snacks. Treats. Drinks," he heard those three words rumble through the corridor and into the compartment repeatedly.

Neville and Luna's attention were still daubed on him – Harry saw no reason to lie to them. "Just a nightmare," Harry explained. Abruptly, Luna began to give him advice on methods her father had told her to take to avoid nightmares while falling asleep, but Harry could not concentrate on what she was saying; he still had the image of Bellatrix's stunning eyes engraved in his head. Suddenly, he felt his stomach grumble. He was hungry – "I'm going to get some snacks. Do you two want anything?" he asked. Luna shook her head, but Neville asked for a few types of sweets.

Nodding towards Neville, Harry trudged out of the compartment, and found a young woman just out of her teens wearing a knee-length black and white server dress, pushing the cart through the corridor. She had her hair in a messy bun, and was chewing bubble-gum loudly, while repeating "Snacks. Treats. Drinks," lethargically.

"Excuse me!" Harry screamed out to her.

The young woman jolted to a stop, and turned around. Harry quickly stumbled towards her, ordered a few snacks and drinks, quickly recalled what Neville had asked for, and ordered that too. He was rummaging through his pockets and found a few galleons, when the sound of heels drumming on the floor grasped his attention. He turned around to where he had heard the sound issue, while the galleons he had grasped in his pocket slipped from his hold. "Hey! I don't care if you're the Boy-Who-Lived, but you need to pay for these!" the young woman screamed (she had undoubtedly been sorted into Slytherin, though not for being ambitious, seeing as she was rolling a snack trolley in a train). Harry quickly turned around to her, and plunged some galleons into her hands, dazedly took the snacks and drinks he had ordered, and immediately began to run to his right, where he had seen a woman with glossy dark curls disappear into the adjacent passenger vehicle.

He nudged to a stop upon hearing a familiar voice boom into the corridor — "Harry? Where are you going? That's where the staff compartments are. The vehicle is out-of-bounds for students!" The voice had belonged to Hermione, but he was in no mood to explain what he had just perceived. He disregarded her, thrust the door leading into the staff compartments open with his hand, and marched into it in a livid form.

The corridor where the staff compartments were was empty. For a split second, Harry wondered if he had just imagined those silken dark curls; perhaps it had merely been a hallucination, triggered by the dream he had perceived of Bellatrix minutes ago in the compartment he was sharing with Neville and Luna.

It was eerily quiet in the staff compartments, Harry wondered if Silencing Charms had been casted, seeing that the teachers were treated more specially than students. He walked through the corridor, gazing at the compartment doors that had all been fastened and locked. Harry, for a fleeting second, reassumed he had seen a hallucination, when he suddenly spotted a compartment door that had been feebly cracked open.

Harry walked near it, and upon arriving at the door he could hear someone inside. He peeped in, and could not see much at first; he spotted a slender bare arm, and that was all. He could hear the figure within the compartment grumbling, and soon spotted a grey sweater and a bra stained with what seemed to be red wine, lying deserted on the floor.

Suddenly, Harry perceived a naked shoulder.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he squinted his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The woman in the compartment was wearing dark jeans, and was trying to put on a lacy bra. Though Harry would never openly admit it, he had never seen a bra in real life before. His eyes remained glued on the bra the figure was trying to put on with her lean hands. Her long dark hair was brushed onto one side of her shoulder, revealing her milky back. Harry tried to remove his eyes, until his mind evoked to him why he had stormed into the staff compartments in the first place. Rage instantly boiled into his veins, his fingers began to tremble—

Dark eyes had met green.

Harry fumbled for a few seconds, while Bellatrix's dark eyes enlarged. She was now sporting a black lacy bra, and her hair was a tousled mess, making her look as though she had just sprung out of bed. Her plain dark jeans were fitted tightly around her slender waist, and though Harry was feeling rage boil through his essence, his green eyes could not help but stare at her curvaceous form. Then, the moment was gone, and Harry found himself in her compartment, pointing his wand at her nose, while she likewise was pointing her wand at Harry.

They were breathing raggedly, her dark eyes and his green eyes giving each other death-stares. "Why are you here?" Harry spat, shoving her with a push of his free hand.

Bellatrix, however, well trained in both the dark-arts and Muggle combat, kicked him in his groin. Harry screamed in pain, and staggered down to the ground. Still in just her bra and jeans – she quickly grabbed her robe and pulled it over her head. Then, she turned around to a groaning Harry on the floor and said with fury, "The staff compartments are out-of-bounds for students, Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor! And, I will surely notify Dumbledore about your rule-breaking." Harry moaned what seemed to be a 'No!' while writhing on the ground.

Her lips curled up at his pathetic state. She neared Harry, and kicked his back, "Get up! Get out!" she bellowed. He winced, and rapidly jumped up from the ground, nearly staggering as he tottered out of her compartment's door.

Bellatrix sighed in relief once Harry had gone out of view, and slumped herself down onto a seat. With gritted teeth, she hissed – "Potter," as she quickly comprehended that for roughly a year she would be seeing his face on a near daily basis. For a fleeting second, she decided on quitting her job. Her hand clutching the hawthorn wand trembled in anger; she glanced down to her wand—'the Longbottom's boy'. Her lips coiled into a frown, and she flung the hawthorn wand to the ground—

She would be seeing Frank and Alice Longbottom's son too…

"Please — I have a son — a baby!" Alice pleaded.

Bellatrix abruptly hurled out of her seat, walked towards the window, opening it and letting fresh air inside. Her hands clasped the window frame, and she tried her best to let her focus and attention fleet elsewhere from the memory in which she had inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms.

Her dark curls bellowed with the wind, as she gaped at the green fields the train passed by. She recalled the day she had first set on the train, she had been a trusting eleven-year-old child, ecstatic and scared out of her wits on which house she would be sorted into...

'Slytherin! I need to get into Slytherin. Please, just put me into Slytherin!' she implored. Her father's brutal face swarmed into her mind. She bit her lips, feeling a flash of pain reminiscent to his beatings flutter through her body. 'I hope Cissy and Meda will be fine without me for a year,' she thought to herself inadvertently, even through the fear and anxiety she was feeling during the sorting…

Bellatrix felt her hands clench onto the window frame harder. Her heart began to thunder in fury –

'Cissy' she hissed sardonically, chuckling painfully, as she remembered what had happened in Madam Malkins a few days ago. Through all her childhood, she had tried to protect Narcissa and Andromeda from her father's wrath. Whenever she believed her father would want to physically abuse one of her sisters, she would purposefully do something that would anger him terribly, turning his attention towards herself – to save them. And Narcissa – she had turned out so ungrateful…

"Ah!" the sorting hat whispered in her ear. "Loyal, brave and courageous. Gryffindor attributes, I must say. Are you sure, young Black that you wish to be sorted into Slytherin? You will find great friends in Gryffindor… Ah, but you have a desire – a need to prove yourself – perhaps Slytherin will do…" the Sorting Hat trailed off in her ear.

Bellatrix stiffened, pondering over what decision the Sorting Hat had arrived upon, 'Please, put me in Slytherin. I need to be put into Slytherin, you don't understand—'

"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat cried into the Great Hall. Bellatrix gazed at the Slytherin table that had erupted into cheers and applauds, momentarily stunned. Then, she plopped herself off the stool, and staggered towards the long table, feeling relieved. She glared back at the row of students waiting to be sorted, and found Sirius next in line. She smiled at her cousin, and waited for him to be sorted into the house she had been just placed in, when—

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat screamed.

Bellatrix felt her heart wane. At that moment, she had wished she hadn't begged the Sorting Hat to place her in Slytherin...

Her hold on the window frame further increased, and her dark eyes bore a listless expression as they viewed the green fields pass by. She pondered over how her life might have turned out if she had been sorted into Gryffindor, but realized that the strained relationship with her parents would have further increased if she had been. 'But it would have passed' she thought to herself, 'I would have been free – could have ran - ran like Sirius—,' her thoughts momentarily slid, when she viewed a large castle loom into view through the clouds—Hogwarts.

'But I couldn't. Couldn't run and leave Cissy and Meda alone,' she involuntarily finished her thought. Her hold on the window frame lessened, and she turned around to pick up the stained sweater and bra from the ground. After packing them into her luggage, she knelt down and picked her hawthorn wand from the ground as well, placed a Shrinking Charm on her luggage, and then quickly lunged her wand into the side-pocket of her robe hastily, as to not recall Alice and Frank Longbottom's pained faces.

Sudden taps on her door startled her. She walked to her compartment's door, opened it, and was surprised to find Tonks standing before her. The Metamorphmagus's hair was still mousey-brown, and she had a sad expression glazed over her eyes. "Hello," Tonks croaked. "I-I thought we could walk up to Hogwarts together."

While Tonks was waiting for a response, Bellatrix observed her attentively, and finally cooped up an eyebrow. Frankly, she found her niece's attempts of trying to get close to her quite irritating. She sighed roughly and nodded brusquely, brushing past her. Tonks tried to keep up with Bellatrix, as Bellatrix was hurriedly walking down the corridor to get out of the train.

Through one of the windows, Bellatrix suddenly spotted Ron and Hermione (or the 'Weasley boy' and 'Muggle-born' as she referred to them in her head): they were walking before first-years, guiding them to the boats. She could not see Harry at all with them. Perplexed, she glanced around the corridors to find him, but they were empty. Tonks noticed Bellatrix's eyes darting around the compartments. "Are you looking for someone or something?" the mousey-haired Metamorphmagus asked.

Tonks, however, was not met with a reply. Bellatrix's eyes were glued on a compartment door that was not opened like the rest. She strode towards it, turning the knob, but it wouldn't open. "Locked," she muttered to herself, as she then slipped her hands into the side-pocket of her robe, and pulled out her hawthorn wand. She placed the tip before the knob and whispered, "Alohoroma." The lock clicked open, and she then turned the knob around, opening the door with her slender hand.

The compartment was filthy; there were snacks and drinks everywhere. Bellatrix noted there were many Honey-Flavored Toffee wrappers. 'Draco likes to eat those,' she recalled, as she strode forwards. Suddenly, she tripped over something warm, and toppled over with a smack. "Bellatrix!" Tonks screamed behind her. "It's Harry!"

A baffled and groaning Bellatrix turned her face around to where she had tripped over, and found a head with disheveled jet-black hair on the ground with an unseen body. She watched her niece spring towards Harry, and remove what seemed to be an invisibility cloak, revealing his body. "Harry!" Tonks cried, silently casting the counter-curse to the Full-Body Bind Curse Harry had been rendered immobile with. Bellatrix pushed herself off the ground gruffly, while Tonks cleared dried red blotches of blood from Harry's face using magic. "What happened?" Tonks whispered.

"Draco," Bellatrix responded instead of Harry, intuitively knowing it had been her nephew who had done this. Though she felt slightly amused at Harry's state, she had never been quite fond of her nephew. She turned around to stare at Harry; he was gaping at her with wide green eyes. Bellatrix knew he was wondering how she had figured it had been Draco who had punched him across the face, casted the Full-Body Bind Curse on him, and hid him with the invisibility cloak after he had gone spying on him. "Why had you been sneaking into someone else's compartment, Potter?" Bellatrix sneered; her arms were wrapped around her chest, as she raised an eyebrow up at Harry, while she secretly referred to how he had snuck into her compartment.

Harry had caught the undertones of her words. What had occurred around an hour ago in her compartment flashed through Harry's head. His jaws tightened, and he replied by staring into Bellatrix's dark eyes with loath, and she reacted by gazing at him with eyes burning with equivalent aggression. "Let's ask questions later, the train's about to leave," Tonks sighed, grasping Harry and Bellatrix's attention. "I'm famished! Let's go to the Great Hall!" she added, forcing a grin at Harry and Bellatrix, in an attempt to deflate the uncomfortable atmosphere that seemed to arise whenever the two individuals before her were in close proximity to one another.

Author's Note: *Whew* My longest chapter yet! Hope you enjoyed it. Thought I'd make it longer than what I'm usually accustomed to, due to the fact that I won't update this story in the next week or two. By the way, I know I said I won't be updating for around a week or two in the note in the last chapter I posted, but I decided to post this up, because I had finished it a few days ago already.

Anyway, please feel free to leave your thoughts. I'd love to hear your opinions, and as I've mentioned before, I'm terribly grateful to those who have put this story in their favourites/alerts. Also, if any of you wish to share your ideas on how you'd like this fic to grow, please feel free to share them by reviewing or leaving a private message if you're too shy. =)