Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
Beta by FedererRex
Chapter 5
Bellatrix sat alone in the boat as it steered itself across the inky waters of the lake which bore her family name. The gentle rocking and sound of the small waves lapping against the prow calmed her nerves as the lit towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came into view. The castle was the same as she remembered from her seventh year, from which she'd not yet actually graduated. This trip had been a long time coming. It had taken Kreacher's help, the spells she'd discovered in the sub-vault, and a great deal of planning and manoeuvring (and a few well-placed confundus charms) to scrape together a new identity, academic transcript, and enough galleons to pay for a year of tuition. It would all be worth it though. After Bellatrix had woken up in the sub-vault and discovered thirty-odd years had passed, and both she and the love of her life had been killed, her first instinct had been to charge right out and do... something. Thankfully, the old house-elf had stopped her, convinced she'd be hunted down and Kissed if she left the manor grounds and started blasting everything in sight. He begged her not to go, said he couldn't bear the thought of losing her again. The creature's (Being, technically, but whatever) devotion was disconcerting to say the least, but she had been convinced.
Thus had begun months of catching up on recent history and current events, whatever she could piece together from the combination of backdated Daily Prophets, 'history' books, and what snippets of news the decrepit house elf could bring her. Apparently, the world thought her completely barking mad, and she'd been imprisoned in Azkaban for over a decade. This was odd, because she certainly didn't feel insane. Once she had formed a semi-decent picture of (more or less) what had happened, she began planningfrom that accursed sub-vault, plotting her revenge. As the weeks passed, the burning rage turned into a bubbling simmer, and slowly, a plan came together. She would destroy the Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley, the mudblood Hermione Granger, and especially Harry Potter, the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, who had defeated… well… from what she recalled, he hadn't been her true love yet, but based on what she'd read, she had been well on her way.
"He'd even come back from the dead once, probably for me, and now I've returned to life for him," Bellatrix thought, "it's like poetry."
"I must be careful though, oh so very careful, before trying to resurrect him again," she thought, "I have to take Potter out first, and to do that I have to get close to him, gain his confidence, learn his weaknesses and secrets."
The only problem was there was no way she could manage extended time in front of him to gain that confidence. In fact, all three of them were constantly on the move; Granger had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, and Weasley and Potter were constantly popping up randomly at some function or interview or other, then retreating from public view again. She'd surmised the best way then to get close to Potter was through his girlfriend, the younger sister of Ronald Weasley. She was on the Gryffindor quidditch team, and Bellatrix had spent many nights practicing her broomwork above the ruined foundations of her destroyed ancestral home in a bid to get onto the same team.
"Get close to Ginny Weasley, get close to Harry Potter and the Golden Trio," she thought, "then eventually, eventually an opportunity will present itself to take all three of them out at once. Only then will I be free to search for a way to bring my True Love back to life."
One thing was clear: Harry Potter had found a way to survive the Killing Curse. She couldn't make a single mistake while hunting her quarry; if even half the stories were true, there was no doubt he was one of the most dangerous wizards alive.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the boat nudging into the sandy shore of the cave beneath the castle. Most of the other students had already disembarked, so she double checked her disguise, made sure her occlumency shields were firmly in place, and stepped onto the sandy beach. Filius Flitwick, the famed duelling champion, stood atop a set of steps leading up to the doors at the entrance to the castle. He was a bit longer in the tooth than she recalled, but still easily recognizable.
"If not for the steps, nobody'd be able to see him," she thought to herself with a smirk.
"Good evening, first years and transfer students. In a moment, the doors will open, and the start of term feast will begin, but first, you will be called to sit before your classmates and be Sorted," Flitwick said.
"Ugh," she thought, "get on with it."
He spoke for another minute about the houses and the what it meant to be Sorted, then at last, the doors opened. The half-goblin led the way into the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling lit by glowing candles. The first years followed close behind him, staring around in wonder. They were closely followed by the transfer students, some of whom had the wherewithal to not gape like codfish. The Headmistress stood at a podium as the students to be Sorted lined up, about half of them first-years and the rest transfer students roughly evenly distributed across the years. One thing Bellatrix noted as she walked through the Great Hall was the Slytherin table had perhaps half the number of students as any of the other tables, though none of the four looked like they would be anywhere near full by the end of the Sorting. After herding the students towards the front of the Hall, Flitwick climbed atop a small platform in front of the head table, and waited.
The Sorting hat sat on a stool and as the Hall fell silent, a crease in the Hat opened up to form something which vaguely resembled a mouth, and the artefact began to sing:
Every year for centuries untold,
I've Sorted into Houses Four,
This year seems quite different; such imbalance is a thing to behold,
It has never happened, not the year just passed, and certainly not before.
Not to worry, not to fear, a place we shall find, for you to belong,
To make friends and to grow, both in mind and in spirit, to be hardy and to be strong,
Best be prepared, no one knows what future's in store,
Pay attention now, you may be able to learn some more,
Time heals, but not all wounds, and scars can last an age,
Beware, these reminders of the past can forge your future cage,
We must learn to lean together, or surely grow apart,
Some might choose another path, to seek the loving heart,
For now's the time for second chances, or to again take trail most worn,
Surely there is risk in forging, but there's where greatest strength takes form,
Alas, I am just a Hat, and I cannot choose for you all,
Take heed my words: Learn to stand together, for alone we surely fall.
The hat fell silent, the ominous last few bars echoing through the Great Hall. Flitwick started calling students up to be Sorted, beginning with the first-years. Since her alias was near the end of the alphabet, and she was probably the oldest transfer student, she'd figured she'd probably be last.
One by one, the students sat and were Sorted. Some took longer than others, but fairly soon a trend was obvious. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw…
Not one Slytherin, not until a little blonde boy named Peter Samuel whose legs barely reached the second rung of the stool he sat on.
"Slytherin!" the hat called after a good two minutes.
Where there had been enthusiastic applause for each of the other students, there was only a smattering of claps for Peter. The forlorn child sat there and shook his head, refusing to take the hat off.
"Mr. Samuel, please sit with your house," Flitwick said, but poor Peter was frozen, eyes wide and staring at all the students staring back at him. A tittering of laughter started somewhere in the hall and threatened to grow.
Then a blonde girl, one of the only seventh year Slytherins at the table, stood up from the back of the Hall, prefect badge gleaming on her green and silver trimmed robes. She strode the length of the long table as the whispers grew.
"Tracey Davis," whispered one of the Hufflepuffs next to Bellatrix.
Tracey took Peter by the hand, helped him down, placed the hat back on the stool, and steered him towards the Slytherin table. A second-year boy patted him on the shoulder as he sat down and Peter Samuels buried his face in his hands while Tracey returned to her seat in the back.
"Thank you, Miss Davis," Flitwick said, and the Sorting resumed.
There was only one more Slytherin among the first years, a tiny dark-haired girl named Allison Wong.
"Now that the first years have been Sorted, we have, for the first time in over a century, accepted transfer students," Flitwick said, "Bennet, Wendy."
The transfer students started with the second years, but Bellatrix's gaze was focused across the Hufflepuffs, on the Gryffindor table, searching for the older redhead she knew should be there. She thought it would be easy to find her; the unsettling possibility that Ginny Weasley was not at Hogwarts this year caused her heart rate to increase slightly and her robe to become uncomfortably warm. A lot of effort would have come to naught if she wasn't here. Finally, she spotted her, across from what appeared to be another 7th year whose back was to Bellatrix. She'd missed Ginny earlier because the student's massive bush of a hairstyle was in the way and Bella only spotted the redhead once she moved up the queue and changed her angle.
"Wait, could that be Granger?" she thought.
"White, Julia," Flitwick said.
Snapping her attention back to the front at the sound of her alias, Bellatrix strode up to the stool, picked up the mouldy hat, sat down, and placed it on her head. Almost immediately, a foreign consciousness filled her mind, completely ignoring her occlumency.
Oh my, you're a familiar one, I dare say we've met before.
"Say Gryffindor," Bellatrix thought.
But you've hatched this ingeniously cunning plan, surely you belong in-
"Don't say it," Bellatrix thought.
But it's where you were before! I couldn't possibly Sort you into a different house.
"What was that you were just singing about taking another path?" Bellatrix thought.
Touché. Alright then, I see here you consider yourself incredibly clever and witty. What about…
"Don't say it. And it's not that I'm incredibly clever, I'm just surrounded by morons most of the time," Bellatrix thought.
She suspected she heard a snorting sound coming from the Hat.
"Say Gryffindor," she thought.
Wouldn't you rather be a Hufflepuff? Nobody ever suspects a Hufflepuff.
"Say Gryffindor, or I swear by all that's unholy I will burn you to ashes with Fiendfyre and then spread your remains across the bottom of all the world's oceans!" Bellatrix thought.
No need to get personal, I was just having a bit of-
"GET ON WITH IT!" Bellatrix thought as hard as she could.
"Well, it is rather brave of you to walk into the lion's den after all, better be… GRYFFINDOR!"
Julia White smirked and stood up, placed the hat back on the seat, then remembered she should be grinning instead. She plastered a smile on her face and half walked, half skipped over to the red and gold table. By the time she sat down, the trim on her robes had changed colour to match those of her new housemates. She received a few nods and waves and it looked like a few of the older students were about to introduce themselves, but with the Sorting finally finished, Flitwick had returned to his seat at the right of the Headmaster's, and McGonagall herself started speaking from the podium.
"Welcome, first years and transfer students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," McGonagall said, her voice magically enhanced, "and welcome back all returning students."
As McGonagall started going on about rules and out of bounds areas, Bellatrix tried to peer down the table to determine if it really was Granger, but the girls were too far away and there were too many people in between. If it was Granger, she'd have to change her plans. Harry and Ginny could always break up, but Granger was the Golden Girl for life, however long or short that might be.
"I have a few introductions to make as well," McGonagall said, having finished with the warnings, some of which Bellatrix already knew she would be violating within the first few weeks, "first, taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position and new head of Gryffindor house, please welcome Professor Frances Winthrop."
McGonagall turned and applauded as a fair skinned man of about average height and build with short brown hair combed over to one side stood up from his seat at the head table and briefly waved to the students. He looked to be in his late 30's and wore a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses. Before he sat down, he waved his hand over his robes and charmed them into Gryffindor crimson and gold to a smattering of applause and hoots from the lions' table.
"And taking over Transfiguration is Professor Anna Collins," McGonagall said, and a slim freckled woman with flaming shoulder length red hair and green eyes stood up and waved to the students. She looked slightly younger than Winthrop, but healthier and more vibrant somehow. The students gave her polite applause as well.
"Now, I know we're all hungry, but let us first take a moment of silence, in remembrance of those who cannot be with us at this start of term feast," McGonagall said.
The Hall fell quiet; there was not even a rustle of clothing. Bellatrix might have suspected a silencing jinx had been placed on the entire Hall if she didn't hear the younger girl sitting next to her stifle a sniffle. Bellatrix looked over to see a third- or fourth-year brunette biting her lip and fighting against tears.
"We owe it to all of them to be the best version of ourselves we can be, to live as fully as we can, so their sacrifice will not be in vain," McGonagall said, "now without further ado, please tuck in, and enjoy the Welcoming Feast."
Dishes appeared on the tables, roasts and gratins and soups, all steaming and delicious. Bellatrix felt her mouth watering at the cornucopia of fragrances, especially after her lengthy confinement in the sub-vault. She started with a carrot soup and had barely taken her first sip when a boy, young man, really, across from her waved to get her attention.
"Hullo, welcome to Hogwarts, and Gryffindor," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "my name's Longbottom, Neville Longbottom."
He had dark hair, a strong jawline and a hint of stubble on his face.
"Really rather dashing," Bella thought.
Bellatrix definitely recognized the name; he was from one of the pure-blooded houses she'd had drilled into her from age three. She thought she might have read about him in one of the Prophet articles as well but couldn't really recall the details.
"White, Julia White, you can call me Julia," Julia said, "pleasure to meet you Longbottom."
"Likewise, and you can call me Neville," Neville said, "so where'd you transfer from, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Time to test out the cover story," Bellatrix thought.
"I was home schooled," she replied, "and for the last few years I was living abroad."
Neville nodded.
"On the Continent?" he asked.
"Yes, staying away from all the… unpleasantness," Julia replied.
Neville frowned.
"Yeah, last year was rough," he said.
A pained expression crossed his features and he looked down at his plate. The conversation effectively died a quick death right there as Neville focused on eating, and Bellatrix was more than glad to follow suit, even as she surreptitiously attempted to steal glances down the other end of the table. She ate a great deal more than she probably should have and topped off the meal with a slice of treacle tart, picked just before the platters and serving utensils vanished back to the kitchens.
McGonagall once again took the podium.
"I trust everyone has eaten their fill, and if not, the house elves are more than willing to bring snacks to the common rooms," she said, "breakfast will begin tomorrow at seven o'clock."
"Prefects, please escort the first years and transfer students to the common rooms, then report to the Prefect's Lounge for this week's duty schedules," McGonagall said, "Tomorrow is the first day of classes, and curfew is in thirty minutes."
A great shifting sound echoed up from the tables as hundreds of students stood up and began crisscrossing the hall, some to meet old friends, some to head to their common rooms. Bellatrix gave up trying to identify her quarry and instead walked over to the nearest prefect, a stocky boy with curly black hair, calling out for first years and transfer students. She waited until the Hall was mostly empty and followed him along with the rest of the group of first years and transfers out of the Hall and up several staircases to the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Bellatrix followed the others up the mahogany steps and listened as the prefect gave the password 'hope springs eternal', causing the painting of a fat lady to swing open.
The common room was much as she expected, all cosy reds and oranges with a fireplace crackling merrily, several overstuffed couches and armchairs, along with tables for reading or relaxing. Several of the younger students had apparently raced ahead to claim prime floor space and were already engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap.
"My name is Michael Karume," the prefect said, "and you can ask any of the prefects for help getting around, or anything else; that's what we're here for. I suggest you head to your dormitories now, boys on the left, girls on the right, and get settled in and meet your roommates. The professors will not excuse being late on the first day, so if you want to avoid points taken off or detentions, I suggest you turn in early."
Bellatrix checked around the common room, and not seeing Weasley there, traipsed up the steps to the 7th year girls' dormitory. It took a moment to identify the correct door, which she pushed open once she found it. The room was yet more red, with the same four poster beds she was used to, but with heavy crimson curtains instead of green. Also different were the windows looking out onto the grounds as they were up in a tower instead of beneath the lake. Other than that, it was much the same as the Slytherin room she'd stayed in for nearly seven years, except there were only three beds in this room even though it was large enough to house five. From the marks on the floor, two of the beds had been removed recently, and replaced with reading desks and chairs, one of which already had a school robe folded across the back of it.
Cross-legged on the floor with a racing broom set across her lap, white polishing cloth in hand, sat Ginny Weasley. A few wisps of bright red hair escaped the ponytail she'd put up while she worked. She paused mid wipe to look up.
"I still can't believe Harry lent it to you," a voice from inside one of the four posters said.
"Hello," Ginny said, propping the broom carefully against her bed and standing up, brushing off her robes, "I'm Ginny Weasley, you can call me Ginny."
"Hi, Julia White," Julia said with a smile and a small wave, "Julia is fine."
"Oh good, you're here," the voice from the four-poster said.
The bushy haired girl from earlier pulled back the curtains and stepped out. Now that she was up close, it was clear, Julia would be rooming with the Golden Girl. Bellatrix couldn't fully suppress a smile. Granger had already taken off her robe and was wearing muggle trousers and a long-sleeved brown t-shirt, far too big and definitely a man's.
"Hi, call me Julia," Julia said.
"I'm Hermione," Hermione said, "pleased to meet you."
"Oh, I think everyone knows who you are," Julia said with a smile, "very pleased to make your acquaintance."
Hermione smiled at that and a bit of pink coloured her cheeks.
"You're going to have to get used to it eventually, Hermione," Ginny said, "you're famous now."
Hermione rolled her eyes and retrieved a heavy book from her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress to continue reading. Ginny went back to polishing as Julia moved to the unoccupied bed. She opened her chest to make sure all her belongings were intact, pulled out her nightclothes, and set out some robes for the next day on the back of her desk chair. With Ginny focused on tuning up her broom, Julia took a moment to watch Granger. She didn't look like much, slightly shorter and slimmer than Julia herself, and she obviously didn't care much about her appearance with her out of control hair and completely uncharmed face without a hint of make-up. Looks could be deceiving though; she was supposedly one of the keenest minds of her generation, despite her dirty blood.
"What are you reading?" Julia asked.
"The Rise and Fall of Tom Riddle Jr. aka Lord Voldemort," Hermione replied, and she held the book up in both hands to display the cover. Emblazoned on the spine was the snake in skull symbol, the Dark Mark.
Julia blinked as the snake slowly withdrew into the skull before Hermione set the volume back on her lap and continued reading.
"Is it… accurate?" she asked.
"That's why I'm reading it; to make sure it's accurate," Hermione said without looking up, "so far it is, but I'm only about halfway through."
"Do you mind if I borrow it after you're done?" Julia asked.
"Not at all," Hermione said, looking up and making eye contact, "the more who read it, the better. As I see it, it's every witch and wizard's obligation to know what really happened, so it never happens again."
"I feel the same way," Julia felt herself say with a smile.
Hermione smiled back and gave her a small nod, then went back to reading. Julia put a mental tick in a box for having made a good impression on Granger. Ginny finished polishing with a final flourish and placed her broom on a rack at the top of her bed, then packed up the broom polishing kit.
"Where'd you transfer from?" she asked as Granger turned another page.
"I was home schooled," Julia said, "lived in France for the past few years. But with everything that happened, and with Hogwarts taking transfers…"
"It is one of the best wizarding schools," Ginny said, "I didn't even know they ever took transfer students."
"The last time was in 1849," Hermione said absently, "incidentally the last year of the Great Irish Famine but that's not the reason Hogwarts accepted those transfers."
Julia waited for Hermione to expand on the bit of trivia but when she simply kept reading, Julia looked to Ginny questioningly.
"She does that sometimes," Ginny whispered.
"I can still hear you, Ginevra," Hermione said with semi-faux annoyance.
Ginny chuckled.
"You play quidditch?" Julia asked, figuring she would earn some points with Ginny as well.
Ginny nodded.
"I'm captain," she said, "we definitely have our work cut out for us this year. Do you play?"
"A bit," Julia said, "I might be somewhat rusty."
"You should come to try outs next week," Ginny said, "it's a big year and there are a lot of open spots."
"Sure, I'll come," Julia said, "although being new here and with how much I'll probably have to learn, I don't know if I'll have time, assuming I even make the team. Do you play, Hermione?"
Hermione snorted.
"Brooms and I have come to an understanding," Hermione replied without looking up, "I leave them alone and they leave me alone. I'll come support the team though."
The lights flickered three times.
"That's curfew," Ginny said, pulling out a class schedule from her trunk, "I have Defence first thing tomorrow. Do you know anything about Professor Winthrop?"
Julia shook her head.
"His father is a member of the Wizengamot," Hermione said, finally closing the book, "he's been living in Europe for the past decade or so. We're in the same class, by the way."
"Are you in NEWT Defence first period too?" Hermione asked Julia.
"Yes," Julia replied.
"Alright, tomorrow morning we can head to breakfast together and then show you where the classroom is," Hermione said.
"If you don't mind, thanks," Julia said.
Ginny pulled out a fluffy bathrobe and nightgown and padded to the adjoining bathroom to shower first while Julia set up her bed to her liking and laid out some of her accessories on her night table. By the time she was done, both of the other two had already changed and prepared for bed. Hermione wore long sleeved pyjamas and Ginny wore a dark pink witch's nightgown.
"Alright you two, see you tomorrow," Ginny said, drawing her curtains closed and putting up silencing charms around her bed.
"Night," Julia and Hermione responded.
Hermione stayed up to read while Julia showered and changed into pyjamas. The lights were out but Hermione still read by the light of her wand as Julia stepped across the thick carpeting.
"It was nice meeting you Julia," Hermione said, drawing the curtains closed, "see you tomorrow."
"Good night," Julia said.
"All in all, a fairly successful first day," Julia thought, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
She was awakened sometime in the middle of the night by a sharp hissing sound. Julia opened her eyes to see a small flame flickering around a hole about the size of a galleon in her bed curtains, just inches above her right foot. She leapt up, grabbed her wrist holster from the shelf above her head and ripped the wand from it. Quickly she twirled the wand about herself, disillusioning and obscuring her form, then casting a wordless extinguishing spell to take care of the flames before they spread.
"Homenum revelio," she whispered.
It was just herself and the two other girls in the room. Quietly, she crept out the side of her bed. The room was almost pitch black, except for a small flame licking at Hermione's bedcurtains. A fire jinx had gone straight through both her curtains and Hermione's. Julia extinguished the flame on Hermione's curtain as well and pulled the heavy cloth back. Hermione lay there, gripped in the throes of some nightmare, twisting and turning and murmuring in her sleep, clutching her wand tightly. Julia barely got a shield up as another spell fired from the tip of it, an underpowered reductor by the feel of it impacting the ceiling.
"Bloody hell Granger, wake up!" Julia shouted, dropping her disillusionment and firing a bright Lumos above the top of Hermione's bed.
Hermione sat up straight, eyes wide in the bright light and hair even wilder than usual, pyjamas damp with sweat. She squinted around and hyperventilated for a moment before her eyes settled on Julia, who by now was standing with one hand on her hip and her wand arm holding the curtain open.
"You just set both our curtains on fire!" Julia said, pointing to the smouldering hole, "and almost blew me up with a reductor!"
She cut herself off before she called Granger a stupid mudblood even if she was; that definitely would have been counterproductive to her long-term goals.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Hermione said, visibly flustered, "that hasn't happened in weeks. I thought I was over it um… there were these photographers earlier today… and being back at Hogwarts, and just now reading about… I'm sorry."
Hermione gave a trembling sigh, closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, and took deep, calming breaths. Bellatrix likewise got a grip on her temper and realized this was a prime opportunity.
"No harm done, really," she said quietly, trying to put as much empathy and concern into her voice as she could, "it must be difficult for you Hermione, with everything you've seen. Are you alright?"
Hermione shook her head, her unruly mane growing even more wild.
"I'm fine, really," she said, opening her eyes again, "today was just especially tough being back where…, everything happened. I'll put up some wards so… we don't have to worry about that again."
"I think I might do that as well, but you know, there's a shelf, just up there," she said, pointing to the cubbies built into the wall, "You probably don't need to sleep with your wand under your pillow. It's Hogwarts. It's safe."
Hermione gave off a half-scoff, half-giggle at that.
"If you only knew," she said, shaking her head.
"It sounds like there's a story or two there," Julia said, absently twirling her wand between her fingers, "but maybe we can save that for another night?"
"Yes, sorry again for waking you up," Hermione said, shivering and pulling her sheets up to her neck, "and almost setting you on fire."
"At least now I can say I traded spells with Hermione Granger," Julia said with a smirk.
"I suppose there is that," Hermione replied.
Julia nodded and stepped back to let the curtain close, then saw the tell-tale bubble of a protective ward shift the lines around Hermione's bed until they faded to invisibility. She returned to her own bed and sat cross-legged in the centre of the mattress, fixed the hole in her curtains with a quick reparo, then cast her own protego totalum protective enchantment using the curtains and bedposts as a base.
"Should be good enough to last the night," she thought.
She placed her wand back in her wrist holster in the cubby, then lay down on her back and stared up at the inky blackness of the canopy above her, fingers laced behind her head. What a day! Granger's nightmares were a weakness, certainly. She just needed to figure out a way to exploit them. Various possibilities flitted through her mind until she finally drifted off to sleep, this time uninterrupted until morning.