I actually feel pretty acomplished right now. I think this is a record for me, uploading two chapters this quickly! :) Hope you guys like it! I know there are a lot of time jumps (like the two-minute kind), which is really annoying, but I promise this will not be happening as often after this chapter. I swear.

CHAPTER FOUR

At breakfast the next morning, Edward and I attempt to move on to lighter topics, starting with Quidditch. It turns out he had been the beater at Durmstrang, and was planning on trying out for the Gryffindor team.

"Oh, good luck making the team!" Ginny says, laughing. "Bella's been Harry's runner-up for team captain since first year! No way is she going to let you on!"

I elbow Ginny. "You make it sound as if I'm going to turn down everyone who tries out!"

"Oh, no. You won't turn me down," Edward says.

Ginny laughs. "Me either."

Ignoring Ginny, I waggle a finger at Edward. "I will not just let you be on the team because I like you. It will be because I like the way you play."

Ginny sticks her tongue out at me, and picks up her conversation with Emmett and Alice. Rosalie seems engrossed in her conversation with Mandy and Natalie.

Professor McGonagall stands up then, and calls us to order. "I have a reminder for all seventh years! You mustn't forget to get your N.E.W.T schedules from your house leaders before leaving the Great Hall!"

Everyone resumes talking then, and Minerva walks over to me. "Miss Potter, I believe you will be having a visitor within the next forty minutes. We will discuss your schedule then. The rest of you," she says, looking around at us Gryffindor seventh years, Alice not included, "please begin lining up!" She turns back to me again. "Miss Potter, I simply adore butter beer."

I can't help but grin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

About thirty minutes later, Minerva sends me off, saying she'll be there in a moment. I walk down the swerving corridors and up the moving staircases, until I reach Dumbledore's—McGonagall's—office. I give the password—butter beer, of course—and head up the staircase, settling in the chair opposite of Minerva's.

The door creeks open just moments later, and Minerva steps inside. "All right," she says. "He should be—"

At that second precisely, the small flames in Minerva's fireplace swell double the size, and Harry appears, covered in ashes, a small bundle in his arms.

"Harry!" I exclaim, delighted to see my brother. He smiles at me, but puts a finger to his lips gesturing with his chin to the bundle. Teddy!

I hold out my arms, and Harry gently lays Teddy down in them. Harry kisses my forehead, and hugs me from the side. "How was the train?" he asks me, leading me back to the seat. He sits down on the floor next to me. Minerva makes move to leave the room, and I smile at her, mouthing 'thank you.'

"It was all right," I tell Harry, once Minerva's gone. "We've new transfers from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. A lot of them are in Gryffindor."

"Hmm." Harry doesn't seem very interested by this.

"How's Teddy been?" I ask Harry, before he can ask me something else.

Harry sighs, shaking his head. He turns to face me. "Not very well. He slept nearly nothing, and cried quite a lot." He studies my face. "Has the scar hurt at all?"

I shake my head. "No." I brush Teddy's hair from his face.

Harry sighs in relief. "Good. And you'll tell me if it does?"

"Yes. I'll send Skeet right away."

Harry shakes his head, rubbing his forehead. "Bellatrix, I'm being serious. It hurts, you tell Minerva immediately and contact me."

I sigh. "Fine. But you're the one who gets to explain to her."

Harry laughs quietly. "Of course I am." He looks at me a moment. "How's Ginny?"

"Better than me, unsurprisingly."

Harry's expression softens. "Bella, you're the strongest person I know."

"You're just saying—" Teddy shuffles in my arms, and his eyes flutter open.

"Mummy?" he asks.

Harry stands up. "I'll go talk to Minerva."

I just nod, looking into my baby's vibrant blue eyes. "Yeah, baby. I'm right here." I stand him up on my legs, and hug him to my chest. His little arms tighten around my neck.

"Mummy no go. Mummy," he mumbles into my ear, his soft breathing tickling my neck. I put my fingers in his hair.

"I love you, baby," is all I can say, tears budding in my eyes.

"Mummy, mummy."

"Mmm." I rub his back gently, holding him as close to me as I can without hurting him.

"Wove," he mumbles.

"What, baby?"

"Wove oo," he presses.

What? Did he just say—no way.

"What was that, Teddy?

"Wove oo," he repeats.

I hold him at arm's length. He gives me a silly grin. "Did you just say you love me?" I ask him. "God, Teddy! I just want to eat you up!" He laughs, even though he probably doesn't even know what I just said. I lay him down in my lap, and give him a raspberry kiss. He flails his arms and legs, laughing. I give him another, and tickle his sides.

"Ah!" he giggles. "Mummy! Wove oo!"

I laugh, and stop. He's got that silly grin on again. I brush his hair back from his eyes, and kiss his forehead. "I love you, too."

I spend a twenty minutes or so just playing with Teddy. Then Harry comes back in, saying he needs to take Teddy back to the Burrow.

I hug Teddy as hard as I can, and kiss him all over. "I love you, baby."

As much as I don't want to, I hand Teddy to Harry. But Teddy grabs some of my shirt in his little fist, his face scrunching up like he's going to cry.

Tears bud in my own eyes, and I lean forward, letting my lips brush across his forehead softly, gently. His eyelids flutter closed, and I brush my fingertips against them. "I love you, Teddy. Yeah?"

He nods. "Wove oo." He smiles that adorable smile, even though his eyes are spilling over, and latches his arms around Harry's neck, resting his head in the crook of Harry's shoulder. Harry sends me a small smile and brushes his fingers against the back of my hand, before stepping back into the fire place, and disappearing in a puff of smoke. Minerva steps back into the room, eyes sad.

I let out a breath. "Harry told you, I'm guessing?"

She nods, rushing forward and pulling me into a hug. We're both quiet for a moment, and then she holds me out at arms' length, brushes away my tears, and lets out a very rare peal of laughter. It's a soft, sweet sound that reminds me of Dumbledore, and brings even more tears to my eyes. She wipes her eyes, too, and hands me my timetable.

"You have a free period," she says, her voice shaking, "during this hour, but I highly suggest taking up double Potions." She looks over my shoulder, as if she can't bear to look me in the eyes. "We have a new Professor. Here's your timetable."

I nod, and take a step back. "Thank you, Minerva."

She doesn't make any move to respond, her glassy gaze on Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. I hurry from the room, unable to watch her distraught expression any longer.

Heading to the Potions room, I take my time, hoping to miss as much of the class as possible. The hallways are eerily empty though, which abruptly changes my mind, sending me flying across the polished corridor floors, and down the steps that lead into the dungeon-like room.

The first thing I notice when I open the door is that the windows shades, which are usually drawn, have been pulled open, giving the room an odd cheerfulness. The next thing I noticed was the teacher.

She's short and stout, with thinning black hair and too-tight robes—in some ways, she is almost exactly like a fatter, female version of Snape—and, just like Snape would have, she sends me a glare when I walk into the room.

"Late, I see, Miss Potter?" she said, her voice painfully nasal. "And on the first day of classes, too? Tsk, tsk."

Not even bothering to ask how she'd known I would end up choosing to come to her class, I rushed to one of the open seats—thank goodness, it was next to Jasper. I wipe my eyes hastily, removing any leftover dampness, and take out my quill, setting my bag on the floor.

Jasper glances over at me, and to say he looked worried was an understatement. "Are you all right?" he asked from the corner of his mouth, obviously having noticed that the teacher was paying extra attention to us as she began to lecture about her expectations from us.

I wave it off, and turn my attention to the front of the room.

" . . . be judging you by your potion selection, and how the final product turns out. Remember, groups of two—this is a partner activity, and I will take note of who you select and how you work together." She looks around the room. "What are you waiting for? Begin!"

The students in the room all seemed to collectively exhale, and everyone began to talk at once. I was just glad that I had this class with Hufflepuffs, and not Slytherins, which would have been bloody awful.

"Partners?" Jasper asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Why not?" I murmured, sniffling in what I assume was not totally obvious way, and nudged his shoulder jokingly.

As Jasper leaned down to get out his Advanced Potion Making: Year II from his bag, he moved closer to me, so as to whisper in my ear. "You can brush it off all you like, but you and I both know you're not all right. We also know that I will, most definitely, be asking you continuously throughout the day, especially during our free period this afternoon, lunch, and dinner." He sat up then, and smiled at me with over-exaggerated innocence.

Taking out my copy of the painfully large book too, I turn to face him with a heavy sigh. "I was seeing my . . . godson?"

Clearly mocking me, Jasper sighs heavily as well and starts flipping through the book, looking at me sideways. "And why does that sound like a question?"

"Because I'm not sure exactly what he is, in relative to me."

"And that means . . ."

"Teddy . . . his dad was my godfather. Remus Lupin. Remus died last year, when Teddy was barely three months old. And since he—and his wife—haven't been around, I've sort of been . . ." I pause, and take a deep breath, reining in the tears. ". . . taking care of Teddy." I stop again, and Jasper, subtly, slides his hand across the tabletop to squeeze mine. "He thinks I'm his mum. And . . . he's sort of been taking my being gone—badly, I guess you could say. So Minerva"—he looks confused, so I elaborate—"Professor McGonagall—has arranged for him and Harry to travel here by floo at least twice a week."

Jasper rubs his eyes with the hand that isn't holding mine. "And so you just saw him?" he clarifies.

I nod, dropping my gaze from his . . . and onto a set of nine—yes, nine, not ten—fingers that were clutching the side of mine and Jasper's table.

"I'll have you know, Miss Potter," the voice came from over my head, and I nearly fell from my chair from the shock of seeing my mildly creepy-looking Potions teacher leaning over me. "I do not allow my students to simply stray from the lessons during my class. Outside of this classroom, I don't have a care for how you view things, flaunting that scar of yours"—she ran her long nail along the scar on my forehead, sending tingles down my spine and igniting a fire on my forehead—"as if it excuses you from your responsibilities as a student at this school. It may fool the other teachers, and your friends, but not me, Bellatrix, and I would love for you to realize that you're not as special as you seem determined to think."

I open my mouth to respond, but the teacher walks away before I have the chance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Afterwards, I have a ten minute break which I decide should be spent raiding the Great Hall for any leftover food—and run into Emmett, who seems to have gotten the same idea. He seems startled when I sneak up behind him and poke him in the back, but gets over it quickly.

"A bit wired up there, Emmett?" I tease, as we head out of the Great Hall and down the corridor, giving up on our pointless search.

He sighs. "A bit. It's just that awful class—double potions, I think they call it . . ." he glances down at his schedule in his hand, and shakes his head. "And we've got another double-class—History of Magic—next."

"Oh, that class is pretty bad, too," I tell him cheerfully.

"And," he continues, "I was lost on my way to potions, and I was with Jasper, who, of course, is painfully incapable of reading maps, so . . ."

"Well,"I told him, trying to rein in my smile. "History of Magic is over by the Transfiguration Corridor."

"Great."

We step outside into the courtyard between the grand staircase and the west wing, and make our way up to the Owlery, where I am greeted by the Weasley's family owl, Errol, who flies to rest upon my shoulder happily, dropping a letter into my hands.

"Hey, Erroll," I say, nudging him with my knuckle. "I wonder who this is from," I say sarcastically, while Emmett watches on with barely contained amusement. I tear the letter open.

Bellatrix,

I hope you know that, in spite of our weekly visits, you still better be writing me letters.

Love,

Harry

PS: Keep Errol. Mrs. Weasley wants us to send our letters through him. Not sure why.

Awesome, I think, and run my fingers through Errol's feathers. "Guess you're stuck with me, buddy," I tell the owl, and slip Harry's letter into his beak. "Take this to my room, 'kay, Errol?" I say, sticking out my arm. He flies away.

Emmett laughs loudly, this booming sound that radiates with joy. "Errol?" he inquires.

I raise an eyebrow. I start to head out in the direction of the Transfiguration corridor, leaving Emmett to chase after me, our laughter trailing behind us.

The class, History of Magic, isn't nearly as awful as the previous one, but it's not very great, either. It's always been a ridiculously boring class, but Professor Binns seems keen on making the day's lecture even more lengthy and dull than usual. Which is sort of sad, because the material itself—usually having to do with vicious goblin riots and rebellions, and giant wars—isn't so dreadful; its Professor Binns horrifying teaching style, which normally consists of him droning on endlessly for the extent of his hour-and-a-half long class.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dear Harry,

Thanks for the awesome letter. I loved how much feeling you put into it. Classes are pretty awful, if you're wondering. We have this terrible new Potions teacher. She has nine fingers. And, I swear to you, Harry, Professor Binns gets worse every year. I almost fell asleep, which I guess wasn't super surprising, considering that I barely slept at all since I've come back from my "vacation". No, to be honest, I haven't slept since last year. Since before everything happened.

And I know you didn't really seem to care this morning, when I mentioned the transfer students, but, I just thought you'd want to know that I'm . . . branching out? Never mind the fact that one of them, Jasper (yes, three of the five that I know are boys. Deal with it.) ran into me on the express and I started crying—but that's not relevant.

The other two—the ones who aren't boys—their names are Alice and Rosalie, and they're all right. They both seem to think I'm a pretty messed up kid, which bugs the crap outta me. The guys—Edward, Emmett, and Jasper—are sweet (Edward and Jasper are complete gentleman, and I wouldn't worry about Emmett—he just likes to mess around). We're at lunch right now, and I'm about to go to Divination, then double defense against the dark arts (I wonder who the teacher is. Our timetables don't say. Oh, by the way, I've decided you're going to see if you could be the DADA teacher in a few years, which would be awesome—im sure Minerva would be delighted!)

Give Teddy a hug and a kiss from me, and tell him his mummy says hi and misses him so much already, and can't wait to see him again. Tell Mrs. and Mr. Weasley and George I say hello, too. (Ginny's doing good, too, if you're curious. She's reading this over my shoulder as I write, and says hello!) If you can, will you bring flowers to Remus and Tonks and Sirius for me? I don't want them to think I've forgotten about them. Give them my love, too.

Well, I think that's all. Love you loads, Harry.

Bella

PS: For Quidditch: what should I go for? I have to decide before holding tryouts this weekend.

PPS: And no, my scar hasn't been hurting. But I've got something to tell you; don't freak out, okay, but . . . you know the creepy potions teacher I was telling you about? She started talking to me about how I think you and me are "better than everyone else" and I need to stop "Flaunting around my scar" . . . well, when she said that last thing, she sort of, well, TOUCHED my scar with her fingernail, and it kind of stung. Like a zap through it. Weird, right? Tell me what you think.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

After Divination (which was awful, by the way: we had it with the Slytherins; Jasper, Ginny, Edward, and Emmett, who were taking Muggle Studies at the time, weren't there; Professor Trelawney was acting just as odd as always, and she kept on prophecising my imminent death.), I'm heading towards my double-Defense Against the Dark Arts class, preparing for the worst . . . but when I walk through the door, it's just the opposite.

First of all, the room looks different. There are no desks, and the room looks like a larger more open version of the Room of Requirement when we used it for DA meetings when I was in my fourth year. Lastly—McGonagall is standing in the middle, looking impatient as she waits for us to settle down, and form a loose circle around here. I stand next to Ginny, eyeing Jasper, Edward, and Emmett, who are standing close together in the back of the room while I listen as the rest of the students whisper about the sudden change. I recognize a few people, and determine that we have the class with Ravenclaw.

Professor McGonagall clears her throat, and we all quiet down.

"I'm terribly sorry but, for the moment, all Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been cancelled until further notice." The class groans in unison, but Minerva ignores it. "Unfortunately, we have had no luck over the break in finding a new professor."

There are exclamation of outrage, and surprise. I hear someone shout, some Ravenclaw, "But You-Know-Who's gone!" Minerva catches my eye after this exclamation, but nods slowly.

"For the time being," she says, "all DADA classes will be moved into the library for a sort of free period. You will all be notified when someone has taken up the position." We all groan again, but Minerva makes her way through the clumps of students, and out the door, clearly signaling that it's time for us to all change gears and head over to the library. I bite the corner of my thumb for a moment, listening to some students murmur about ditching the library altogether and simply heading to their common rooms for the hour, before breaking into a run and taking the winding halls in the direction I assumed Minerva would have taken. I catch up after a few minutes, and marvel at how quickly she'd moved.

"Minerva!" I exclaim, and she turns around, raising her eyebrows, entirely unsurprised that I'd showed up behind her.

"Yes, Bella?" she asks, tiredly.

"Well . . . I was, erm, thinking . . . maybe you should offer Harry the position?"

Minerva's eyes light up. "I thought about it, dear. But I really couldn't—"

"It wouldn't hurt to ask." I walk a little bit closer to her, and lower my voice. "And you talked to him earlier, how much he was freaking out about me and Ginny being here without him. It'd be good for him," I muse. "He needs to do something."

All the while, my mind is repeating one word, and one word only: please, please, please, please . . Although I probably wouldn't admit it to anyone, having Harry here would make me feel so much better—I wouldn't be so worried all of the time.

Minerva smiles a bit. "I agree. I'll write him immediately."

I exhale in relief. "Really?"

Minerva nods. "Yes. Now, run along. This free time can cut a lot of your homework load tonight, Miss. Potter."

I laugh a small, shaky laugh. "Oh, and I was wondering—can we go and do our homework in our common rooms?"

"For Gryffindors, yes. For the other houses, the students must take that up with their house leaders."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem, dear." Minerva squeezes my arm before turning back around, and continuing to make her way back to her office.

Now she just has to convince Harry, I think, smiling to myself. And he won't take much convincing.

Not too bad, I hope! :D I'll upload soon!

REVIEW, PLEASE!

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