Now Crucie was really crying. She held the letter to her chest while tears ran over her cheeks. There was one thing left in the envelope. An old photograph in faded colours of a posing group. She recognized Crabbe and Goyle, Amycus Carrow –who turned uncomfortably from side to side and indeed remained ridiculous looking no matter what he did- a much younger looking Lucius Malfoy who had the proud father grin, next to Narcissa who was holding a small blonde child, some death eaters she only had very vague memories of, they had probably died or gotten captured when she was still very young, Antonin Dolohov, Igor Karkaroff, Severus Snape, Alecto Carrow, the Notts and their son, the Averys, and there, in the middle of the picture, her parents. Bellatrix with her tousled curls –Crucie immediately felt her hand reach out for her own hair- was smiling while holding a little child on one arm, and with the other arm she was trying to smooth Rodolphus' collar. The whole group was like that, for a moment they posed and then they resumed all kinds of activities, like trying to find a good stance, smoothing their hair, saying something to their neighbours… It wasn't that she hadn't seen magical photographs before, but this made Crucie cry even more. It was the first moving photograph of her mother she ever saw...
"Hey… Are you okay?"
Crucie turned, and saw a brown-haired, not unfriendly looking girl. She quickly hid the photograph.
"I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't be like this."
"Oh no, it's okay. Are you homesick? Millicent, that's one of our roommates, she's homesick too. She's hiding in the toilet and Tracey is trying to talk her out of it."
"I missed the tour, so… I don't know anyone…"
"Oh, you're that girl that got detention right away, aren't you? Pansy told us."
"Just a stern talk, not detention."
"Snape is creepy, right? I'm Daphne Greengrass, by the way."
"I'm Crucio Black. Please call me Crucie."
Daphne looked a bit uncomfortable now.
"Is it true what they say, about you knowing how to do unforgivables?"
Crucie didn't know what to say. Daphne facepalmed.
"I'm so unthinking, I'm questioning you while you're homesick! You must think me a terrible person."
"It's okay, really."
"No, I'm so sorry. Please, tell me a bit about your home. It may seem strange but it really helps."
"It's… complicated. It's just… I haven't seen my parents since I was very little. They… they had an accident. But my mother left me a letter for my first day at Hogwarts, and I just found it in my trunk. That's why I cried…"
Daphne now sat on Crucie's bed, and she had put an arm around her.
"I know it doesn't help, but I'm really sorry. Where do you live then, if your parents…"
"My uncle took me in. He has this pad in London…"
"Wow, you live in the city? That's so awesome! I live with my sister and parents in the Greengrass Manor and it's terribly far away from everything."
"It's not always fun, my uncle is a total slob, he even leaves dirty underwear on the couch."
"Urgh, that sounds horrible! Don't you have house elves to clean up for you?"
"No, he says there's not enough work for an elf in our apartment."
Daphne laughed.
"I can see you would disagree!"
Crucie laughed as well.
"He's not the greatest housekeeper, but he's nice. He spoils me rotten, and then I mean mostly my teeth."
She held out the bag of candy for Daphne.
"Please save my denture from an early death and help me eat these!"
They both ate candy, while exchanging little bits of information. Crucie heard about Daphne's little sister Astoria, the long history of the Greengrass Family in herbology and related disciplines, and their family's shopping trips to Paris. They compared their wands and Daphne was greatly impressed when she heard the story of the Yew Wand and the flaming dustbin.
"Did you know Yew is one of the most powerful woods for wands? It is fierce, angry, dark and strong, and yew wands only choose the most fearsome owners…"
"How do you know that?"
"Herbology family, remember?"
"Oh yeah."
They chatted for a while, respecting the unsaid things that hung between them. Crucie could feel the questions Daphne wanted to ask, but the girl didn't and Crucie didn't encourage her. For now she would keep her secrets, until she knew where these people's loyalties lay. She would heed her uncle Lucius' advice and be careful with who she trusted…
(Pagebreak)
Time passed, and days became weeks. Crucie managed to solidify her position within Slytherin… The rumours spread by the death eater children made sure that she became a notorious face, and her name only helped with that. The Black family had a long history in the dark arts after all, and with a first name like hers you just couldn't be up to any good. The girls, led by Pansy Parkinson, formed a clique that Crucie became part of, but only reluctantly. She couldn't afford to lose their alliance, but they weren't friends either. Between her and Pansy there was a constant rivalry over nothing in particular, and only the rare personal conversations with Daphne made it a bit better. It was truly exhausting… Neville Longbottom avoided her more than anything, and guessing he was just scared Crucie hadn't started to stalk him. Between the Ravenclaw Tower and the Slytherin Dungeon there was quite a distance, and the houses had barely any lessons together, so she didn't see Luna that often either. Sometimes, at night, she looked at the magical photograph, taken after a death eater meeting somewhere around her first birthday. Everyone looked so… happy. The memories of her childhood were fading fast, but the sense of content and happiness had always stayed with her. Remembering that made the coldness of her current relations all the worse. To avoid having to be around people too much, she started looking for secluded corners and deserted classrooms to spend her time with her books and homework. One corridor, half blocked, she liked especially because it had a chair and a table and an empty portrait frame and most of all because it looked like a dangerous place no one ever came there. It was there where she decided to write a letter to Rabastan. Unfortunately, her only quill broke when she wanted to start writing.
"AAARGH!"
"Pleassssse… you are dissssturbing the quiet."
Crucie looked around her, but didn't see the source of the unusual hissing voice.
"Above you…"
She looked up and saw the portrait of a strict looking man with a pointy white beard and black robes. He looked inquiringly at her, and Crucie felt like she had to apologize.
"Oh. I'm sorry. My quill broke. And I… I guess I just lost it a bit. I'm… I'm a tit bit on edge lately."
"Why are you not in your common room to ssssstudy?"
"I… I don't like people too much. And when I lose my patience with them I hurt them and I don't want to get expelled."
"Underssstandable… What isss your name, young lady?"
"Promise you won't laugh."
The portrait raised eyebrows.
"I thought ridiculoussss names were a part of the passssst…"
"It's Crucio. Crucio Carina Lestrange."
She didn't know why she said her real name, but somehow she knew the portrait wanted the truth and the truth only. The bearded man slowly nodded.
"Ah… That nose indeed…"
Crucie frowned.
"Is that seriously the first thing people notice?"
"It issss very noticable…"
The man smiled, but it looked uncomfortable, as if he didn't smile too often. Crucie carefully asked.
"So… you knew my parents?"
"Twould be unbecoming ssssshould I not know ssssuch notable members of my own housssse… Don't you think?"
Crucie was a little shocked, as she suddenly recognized the man in the portrait from a picture in her Hogwarts History book.
"You… you are Salazar Slytherin?"
"The one and only. Thissss is my ssssecluded portrait… I come here not to have to talk to those otherssssss…"
Crucie smiled.
"Oh, so you don't like people either?"
Salazar rolled his eyes.
"They gossssip. All. The. Time. Assss a portrait, there issss not much elsssse left to do…"
"The girls in the common room gossip too. Mostly about boys, or about me, or about Harry Potter."
The Slytherin founder chuckled dryly.
"Issss Harry Potter not a boy?"
Crucie blushed.
"Well, the gossip's slightly different. He's a boy, but he's also the Boy-Who-Lived and stuff… And he's a Gryffindor so the Slytherin girls don't exactly drool over him."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"As in like-like? Of course not! And… well, I don't think I like him in general either. Draco is a bit very much obsessed with him, it's all the time 'Where is Potter? What is Potter doing?' but that's not the reason. He… I know I shouldn't but I think I blame him for what happened to my parents."
Salazar nodded comprehendingly.
"It'ssss all ssssooo political… I have sssince long decided not to mingle anymore… Yet I ssseeeee where your sssentiment hailsss from…"
"Thank you, Mr Slytherin."
"For what, Misss Lestrange?"
"Just for listening. It's been a while since I last talked to someone like that."
"Ssssame here, Misss Lestrange… I must sssshow up in my principal portrait now, but feel free to visssit anytime…"
Salazar walked out of the portrait, but Crucie felt a whole lot better. She would go write her letter in the library; the thought of seeing other people now didn't bother her so much anymore.
(Author's Notes)
So, Crucie sees the first photograph of her mother. I imagine that most of the photographs of Bellatrix and Rodolphus were left behind in their old house when "disaster struck", and the ones they did have were hidden away.
And well... Yeah. The portrait of Salazar Slytherin. I imagine him being a total grump, reserved and perpetually annoyed and stuff, but also rather broadminded. (Say whut? o_O) Since he's a portrait he's been around for hundreds of years already and time makes anyone's opinions soften. At least, so I think. He must have had a very good portrait painter, since he didn't become a caricature of himself, or so I imagine ;)
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