"Draco," Atria said softly as she looked at the cold face of her cousin, he had hard lines across his forehead that made him look even more unforgiving.

"What have you done," he said walking into the compartment.

"Drac-Daphne," Atria said shocked to see the third person who joined them before looking to Draco," why is she here."

"Because I'm your friend," Daphne said softly.

"To help me talk some sense into you," he said, his words stone cold.

"Atria this is not good," he said.

"Draco please don't," she said exhaustedly.

"No," he said as he stood over her holding his finger out in front of him as if berating a small child, "You don't get to talk, not after all you have done."

"I've done!" she exclaimed angrily.

She looked between him and Daphne right there was no way he had told her to the full story, she was just here under the pretence she had run away from her beautiful family like an ungrateful brat.

"Who knows?' she asked.

Daphne shook he head her long blonde hair hiding her small face, "Almost everyone."

Atria nodded before looking back to Draco, "Do they know why Draco?"

"Atria," he said impatiently.

"Do they?" she asked again, more agressively.

Obviously not by the way his shoulder dropped ever so slightly, at his loss of reason,"Then no one has the right to tell what I should and shouldn't have done."

"Come home," he said strenuously, "You will only make it worse for yourself."

"How could it be worse," she said under her breath before addressing him again, "Has he said anything to you?"

"Who?"

"Your father."

A look of shock passed him before he bgan to stumble on his words, trying despretly to voice them, "Well, he-"

"Because he said nothing," Atria said impertinently," if anything he let me go, so why can't you do the same."

Draco said nothing he just kept looking at her in the same god awful way. As if she was a puzzle piece that refused to be pushed into a place it didn't fit, "Please leave," she said turning away to look out the window.

"Atria no, not until we deal with this," he said stubbornly sitting down next to her.

"I've dealt with this!" she snapped, "the only way I knew how so please leave."

"No!" he replied, even more ferociously.

Atria looked at him, the look of plain and utter selfishness, the look of arrogance and she couldn't take another moment of it, "Then I'll leave," she said standing up.

"Atria," she heard him say, but she slammed the compartment door leaving Draco and as it turns out a rather useless Daphne inside and walking away.

She walked through the Slytherin clustered walkway head down but she felt the stares.

She kept going until she found who she was looking for, locking her gaze with the boy with glasses.

"Atria," Harry said sitting up as she opened the door.

"Can I sit here?" she asked, sounding rather breathless.

Hermione, Ron and Harry all looked between each other before Harry nodded, "Of course."

She closed the door behind her before somewhat throwing herself down in the seat next to harry and smoothing out her hair.

"Your cousin was just in here actually," Ron said, picking at his pant leg.

"What did he say?" Atria asked somewhat alarmed at the fact Draco was probably already going around dragging her name through the mud.

"I don't know, he spoke cryptically about something then left."

"Sounds about right."

Then nothing, awkwardness and she knew it was because of her.

"It's very brave," Hermione said speaking up.

"Pardon?"

"Leaving the Malfoys," Hermione went on to explain.

"Oh, thank you, it seems for the best."

"And you're staying with your cousin now."

"Yes."

It was going to be a long train ride.

She sat now between Daphne and Millicent, her reception that year was cold from most, some still polite but others flat out glared at her, like Pansy and most of the other purebloods in her circle. She could see the people whispering as they talked occasionally looking up trying to be subtle as they talked about her. They were dumb if she thought she couldn't see. The older students as well joined in, some laughing as they talked as if there was anything funny to say. But she ignored them, instead, she sat silently and pretended to be interested as the first years were sorted just waiting for the feast to begin.

A paper bird flew to her from somewhere higher up the table and landed in front of her. Atria reached out her hand taking the paper cautiously. She could see the small amount of writing that stretched out onto the wing, it was a note.

In black crooked writing, the words read out, 'Blood Traitor.'

"What is it?" Daphne asked. Atria shook her head, showing little disturbance at the note, handing it to daphne who in turn read it.

She sat with it for a moment in her hands before crunching it in her hands, "Ignore it, Just someone whose bored."

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October,"Dumbledore loud voice echoed through the hall, "and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, that portrayed the storm outside and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak.

Every head in the Great Hall turned towards the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling.

He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, then began to walk up towards the teachers' table. A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right and limped heavily towards Dumbledore.

Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen.

It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces were supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing.

But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye – and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

And this stranger, this odd man for some reason filled Atria with dread.

He reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some enquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone.

Dumbledore nodded, and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to what was left of his nose and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Dumbledore brightly, into the silence, "Professor Moody."

"The Auror?" She heard someone near her whisper.

"Who is he?" Atria whispered to Daphne.

"He was once a famous Auror," Daphne said under her breath, "a war hero even, responsible for taking down many of the Dark Lords follwers, Now he's a hermit."

Dumbledore cleared his throat again, "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

And then the night may have well been over for Atria, all the talk that filled the great hall and after they left was about the tournament.

Most of the boys, of course, were in a rage about it. Well, what would the ministry be today if they where allowing boys of eleven and older to try and compete in a competition that would get them killed.

She heard the older group of Slytherin boys whining, as they walked down the stairs towards the dungeons. "Seventeen how ridiculous."

"Just as well," Atria said to Daphne, "that way no stupid little boy can get himself killed," Well she must have said it not as softly as she thought because the next thing she knew.

"What was that Blood Traitor," she looked up to the boy who had spoken, up the stairs to where Adrian Pucey now stood glaring at her.

She shook her head before continuing up the stairs ignoring the group who now glared, and she would have made it if.

"Miss Black," she heard the familiar deep voice call.

She turned to see Snape on the stairs, he stood still making it obvious that she was meant to go to him. She rolled her eyes as she made her way to him.

"Causing trouble Miss Black?" he asked, ever so politely.

"No sir," she said platonically.

"I would hope that maybe you were trying to start afresh not only at home but at school I would hate for you to prove me wrong."

Atria nodded, chin high, "Of course sir."

Her first day of classes had begun.

She sat now anxiously at the Slytherin table, picking at a piece of toast as the girls gossiped around her.

"I wonder when they will arrive," Daphne asked excitedly.

"Who will arrive?" Atria asked not looking up from her toast.

"The other schools of course," Millicent said, "all those new boys."

"That's it? You care about the boys?" Atria asked.

"And you don't?" Millicent asked as if the fact she couldn't care less about the opposite sex was so shocking.

"Of course she doesn't, not like anyone would ever take notice of her," Pansy said obnoxiously before flipping her hair behind her shoulder and giving Atria a smug smile.

"Your so right Pansy," Atria said, putting her toast down as she eyed the other girl, "and it makes me so distraught."

Pansy huffed, "I bet it does."

Viola laughed as if it was all banter, but it had never been between Pansy and Atria, it was always meant as it was said, "Victor Krum will be coming," she said.

"How interesting," Atria said not trying to hide her disinterest. And just think, she had to get through the year.

Her first potions class was odd, unlike any other she had witnessed, while Snape had returned this year seemingly worse then he had ever been with a new rage within him, Atria seemed to be the least of his concerns. Not a comment or an approach, the only words having been said to her the other day being it. She worked through the class effectively with no attempt on his behalf to stop her, as if her life was not his problem anymore.

Her third class of the day was defence against the dark arts and she was not excited about it.

She didn't like him, something about this man, this war hero made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. His presence filled her with dread something about him menacing, a sense snape didn't even fill her with and one that should never be in a classroom.

He stood at the front of the classroom after aggressively stomping in and turning the whiteboard before turning around without a single address to the class.

"So – straight into it, Curses, They come in many strengths and forms," he said his large eye turning wildly in its place, scoping the class. "Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it 'til then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking." he said rather angrily.

Lavender jumped and blushed.

Apparently, Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

"So ... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Atria knew, she knew all three, but unlike almost everyone else she didn't put her hand up.

Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one ... is it called the Imperius curse or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar.

Three large, black spiders were scuttling around inside it.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it.

He then pointed his wand at it, and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backwards and forwards as though on a trapeze.

It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles.

Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose into the air started to fly.

Everyone was laughing – everyone except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled, "You'd like it, would you if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly, as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over, "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats …"

Atira shivered at his words.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius curse," said Moody, he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it, Better avoid being hit with it if you can."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

A hand went up and Atria sat back a little shocked, The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject.

Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one, the Cruciatus curse," said Neville, in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes. "Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further enquiries.

Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus curse," said Moody, "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,'" he said, pointing his wand at the spider.

He wouldn't, surely he wouldn't.

"Engorgio!"

The spider swelled.

It was now larger than a tarantula.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

Atria cringed at the sound of the word, her body freezing up as her finger twitched.

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; It rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side.

She was frozen, her body went stiff and she felt the blood rush from her face as her heart thudded so loudly she thought everyone could hear it. Had she twitched like that under the curse, had her mother, had they twisted in the same way as if possessed by some demon. Had her mother done it as she begged for her life? She looked up at him, Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently and could it be, was he enjoying it, was enjoying the way the creature cringed and cried. His eyes glowed with a life she had not seen as he had passionatly spoken moments ago.

"Stop it!" She heard someone cry.

But nothing stopped, She looked back at the spider, she continued to listen as it screeched and it only stopped when a loud crack echoed through the room.

She looked up all eyes on her.

She looked down to where her hand rested on the table. A large crack had splintered through the wood beneath her palm, she hadn't even noticed.

Without a single word she grabbed her bag and walked quickly from the room, her hand clenched into a fist.

She walked out down the stairs until she reached the bottom until she was far enough away and just sat on the bottom step, no one would come this way their next classes where all on the top floor. And that is where she stayed for the next hour, closing her eyes as she leant against the stone wall. willing herself the entire time to stop thinking about it even though it was all she could think about.

"Feeling a bit twitchy Black," she heard a voice grumble as it approached her from behind.

She turned around to see the mad eyed freak behind her on the stairs, but she didn't bother to stand up. "Sir," she greeted.

"So you're Mckinnon's girl?" he asked, his methodically moving over the top of his walking stick.

So he did know, "Yes I am."

He bowed his head nodding in thought as his eye moved up still looking at her, "I apologise for the display," he said, "but you must learn these things. Con-"

"Constant vigilance," Atria finished standing up, "of course sir, if you'll excuse me," she said before turning and walking away not in the least bit interested in what he had to say.

"So like your mother," she heard him say under his breath.

She turned around, "excuse me."

There eyes locked, his hand moved to his waist before taking a flask of something and swigging it down, A creep and an alcholic who knew, he returned the flask to its place, "You're a lot like your mother, she was a spitfire too."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, was that an insult or a compliment.

"Nothing, but in the end that might have been what got her killed," he more growled at her as he limped passed her.

She glared, her eyes burnt into the back of his head, she was hoping his other eye was watching as she did.

She heard steps growing closer to her.

"Atria," she heard Harry's voice as he approached her, but her eyes remained stuck on the back of Moody's oily head.

"Hey are you okay?" he asked, looking up to see her glaring at the retreating figure of their professor.

"Yes I'm fine," she hissed.

"Atria," he said placing his hand on her arm, "You split your desk in half and you're going to tell me you're fine."

She shook her head in disbelief, "It was barbaric using that curse."

Harry nodded, "It was a bit intense."

She turned to him," A bit intense," she repeated back to him, "He tortured that creature."

"It was a spider," Harry said as if that fact mattered.

"And he loved doing it," Atria said viciously, "It was disgusting, just remember Harry it takes a certain kind of person to cast that curse," she said it because she knew what kind of wizard it took to cast that spell, "you have to mean it."

She wasn't going. Severus Snape could come up those stairs and drag her from this bed, and she would still not walk into that classroom. She would not sit while that man tried to imperious her. Her new 'Professor' if you could even call him that had made the mistake of warning the class what he would be doing and she vowed that no power on earth would ever move her to do it.

There was something wrong with this man, maybe his years of war had driven him mad. But she knew the look of someone with dark intent, and he had that.

She rolled over quickly, closing her eyes when she heard steps coming up the stairs, pretending to be asleep for when Snape got up the stairs. Surely he wouldn't wake her up.

She heard a lady clear their throat, "Miss Black", she heard the crisp accent of professor McGonagall.

She turned more in shock than anything else, Greengrass eye with the older lady, "Professor," she said trying to make herself sound as sick as she could, "I thought you where professor Snape."

"So you weren't sleeping?" McGonagall asked strictly.

If she wasn't being stared down by the intimidating women she would have slapped herself across the face, "No professor."

McGonagall tipped her head, looking at stria over the top of her glasses, "Professor Snape had a class he asked me to check on you after miss Greengrass mentioned you weren't feeling well."

"Yes professor," Atria said sitting up.

"A small cold," the older women asked sitting down on the side of Atria's bed.

Atria nodded, "Yes professor."

The older women reached out her hand pressing the back of it to Atria's forehead were she held it for a moment before nodding, "Alright," Atria blessed the day someone taught her how to put a heating charm on her blankets.

McGonagall reached into her pocket pulling out a small vile, "Here we are then," she said handing it to Atria, "I just hope you are not doing this to avoid a class or anything, this potion will bring about a cold if the taker does not have one."

They sat still. It was a dare, it was a question of commitment, how far would she go. And Atria no longer believed in limits. She uncorked the bottle before taking it in one gulp and looking back at up at the women confidently, McGonagall even seemed a bit shocked.

"Thank you, professor," Atria said handing the vile back to her.

"Alright then Miss Black," she said rising to stand, "I hope you feel better soon," she said before turning.

Atria slumped in her bed thinking she was safe, but McGonagall turned around swiftly facing her again, "oh Miss Black."

"Yes professor," Atria said before she could release the breath she had been holding.

"No tissues."

"Pardon?"

"You have no tissues, a person with a cold always has tissues," the older women said giving Atria an all knowing glance over the edge of her glasses.

Atria nodded before speaking in a pitch she didn't know her voice was capable of, "thank you, professor."

And then she was gone. Atria once again slumped in her bed, breathing out deeply. She could already feel her throat growing dry and her nose beginning to run.

A small price to pay.

Please, follow, favourite and review.