Bellatrix Lestrange was not sure what to make of her emotions. The Dark Lord had disappeared, and his mark with him. At first she refused to even consider the possibility, thinking it as some kind of plot, a mirage to throw off Dumbledore and his ilk. But after three days of waiting, the black skull on her arm remained gone, yet no summon or message reached her. And now her husband and brother-in-law were plotting something with the Crouch boy. However, her head was elsewhere. Her master had been beyond compare, capable of magic beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. She had seen him duel Dumbledore, seen the spells exchanged that made everyone else look like green first-years. Ice and fire, earth and rock, dancing to his will. They had sparred, but not even her best was a challenge.

However, the Dark Lord was no more. Something had happened in Godric's Hollow, something that managed to do what even the great Dumbledore could not pull off. And she yearned to know what that was. To see the feat of arcane prowess, to be witness to what must have been the mightiest of magic. Her mind was made up, Bellatrix stood abruptly and marched out, summoning her favourite cloak as she crossed the entrance hall. Her family by marriage was used to her antics by now, so her sudden departure did not even raise an eyebrow.

As the world stopped spinning and an old village square came into focus, she cast several spells that changed her appearance. The first person who saw her just thought that another blonde clutz approaching the age of forty had joined the mourners who had gathered around the ruin. Her boots echoed across the wet pavement as she closed in on the house, the air crisp after the almost freezing night. The wet scent of fog was the only thing she smelled as Bellatrix focused on the hole in the roof, trying to sense the magic that had occurred in that place not even two days ago.

"Do you know what happened to the boy?" she asked with a faked Welsh drawl, and an old wizard next to the charmed gate turned to look at her.

"Black showed up, then Hagrid came," an old man with a patchy grey beard replied. "They talked for a moment, then Black left and Hagrid took the boy away on Black's bike. Made a racket almost as bad as when – you-know-who blew up that wall."

"Have you seen – "

"Of course not, whom do you take me for?" he asked in a harsh tone. Clearly, the locals were not yet over the whole event. Then again, history had been written next-door to them. "I felt some ward come up and then 'was hiding together with the missus. There was a racket down the street, then the roof broke apart, as did the wall. No one knew that he was gone, we waited two hours to make sure that we didn't see anything we ought not to. Frank from next door was braver than me, he went to check the ruin and found James downstairs, his wife next to the crib. Saw some tattered robes and that wand, and decided to get out in case its owner came looking for it."

"And the boy?"

"Apparently alive. 'Saw Black holding him, then Hagrid took him. Mary says that the oaf was boasting about bringing him to some Muggles for Dumbledore," a middle-aged witch threw in, her face covered by a red hood.

"And then?"

"Aurors were all over the place, then the Minister showed up and said some Hogwash about noble sacrifices and putting things right. Bloody Hag, that one," the first man spoke again and spat onto the wet road. "She left some Unspeakables behind, not sure what those did. When they left, the house was warded."

"Thank you," Bellatrix replied and said her goodbye. Whatever wards kept the visitors away clearly messed with her senses because she could not feel any magic. She needed to leave, to think.

With a huff, Bellatrix appeared in the dusty flat she had not set foot in for years. A few flicks of her wand took care of the worst, but even a house elf would need a few hours to make the place respectable again. The old tea leaves tasted odd, but in the cool flat, it had to do until the fireplace spread its warmth. She needed to think. Alone.

She conjured a new armchair and went about fluffing throw pillows to keep her mind occupied. The ugly truth was that her master was as dead as Lily Potter, who had somehow sold her life very dearly. It must have been her, because clearly no toddler could have felled the Dark Lord. Although a Mudblood was almost as unlikely.

For some reason however, everyone cheered the boy. That he had brought down the greatest wizard of their lifetime when in reality he had probably soiled his nappies, if he even understood what was going on. It was tempting to give James Potter the credit, but Bella knew her master. He always preferred his own life over his targets, that's how there were still three Bones and two McMillans left. If James had struck an unexpected blow, he would have withdrawn and returned with a vengeance. It was the smart choice, even if Bellatrix preferred to press the attack. Making smart, not bold, choices was how one became a dark wizard of great renown.

The locals had also not mentioned any signs of a lengthy fight, so whatever had happened must have been a short exchange of spells that felled both fighters. Not exactly uncommon in the duelling circle, but that usually happened when opponents were equally matched and had an aggressive disposition. And Lily Potter was not her Master's equal.

Still, Bellatrix would get to the bottom of this mess. She could not investigate the place where the Dark Lord fell, the bodies of the Potters were out of her reach, which only left the boy. Hagrid supposedly boasted about delivering him to some Muggles, which was odd. This could have been a bit of clever subterfuge, but that was beyond the big oaf. It was however not beyond Dumbledore to play Hagrid and only make him think that's where the boy was to go and therefore spread misleading word of his whereabouts.

Even though Dumbledore was a lover of Mudbloods, he had no close ties to Muggles, at least as far as her master knew. Which meant that, if he was there at all, they had to be related to the boy. The Potters had no squibs and the Dragon Pox had culled that family like many others or noble blood . Which left Potter's wife. It was time to get in touch with some old acquaintances.

The next morning came with a surprise in the Daily Prophet. Apparently, her cousin proved himself to be a Black and smeared a street in Manchester with Pettigrew. There was some nonsense about him being a Death Eater, but the important part was that Sirius had not hesitated before he blew the rat into a thousand pieces. Well, too bad that he got himself captured, but that act of revenge was worthy of their name. And once the sun rose again, the paper carried another interesting story.

Apparently, the Lestranges and their protégé had done a thorough job on the Longbottoms, wiping out the whole line of blood traitors, and even took a few Hit Wizards down with them. The article mentioned dismemberment, which just proved to her that they had no finesse. Magic was such a wonderful tool to make people talk, not just a butcher's cleaver. Bellatrix's marriage was a political arrangement, but she had grown to respect her husband. He was – had been – powerful and had had the proper mindset, but sometimes his vision had been just too lacking. Had she gone to Longbottom Hall, the blood traitors would have spilled all their secrets and none of their blood. Instead, the Longbottoms were dead, and their secrets gone with them. The bad news did not end there, a handful of former comrades had come forward and claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse. Most notably, her other brother-in-law. The Prophet wrote that another dozen had made similar claims, but those had yet to be confirmed.

Happier news arrived a week later, just as she had been about to abandon her quest and return to Lestrange Hall, which was hers now. Her old friend Archie had managed to track down Hagrid and get him drunk enough to talk. Dumbledore had ordered the Potter boy brought to his mother's sister. She lived somewhere in Surrey, but the gamekeeper had been too deep in his cups to remember the exact location. It was enough to act on, so Bellatrix began to move anew.

She might be unfamiliar with Muggles, but a daughter of the Blacks certainly knew how bureaucracy worked. The half-squibs who worked in the Ministry knew so little about magic, they might as well be Muggles, else they would have chosen a different, more challenging career. And she knew in which pit of misery Potter's wife had grown up since that potion progeny Snape came from the same place. And that one certainly didn't know when to shut up and stop his moaning when he had a few drinks.

It was far too easy to play the estranged cousin looking for her distant kin in the home counties. The clerk did some tapping on an odd board and could see that the woman had died a few days ago, so sympathy was on her side. Then the man used that odd contraption Muggles used instead of the Floo to talk to each other, and told her whom to contact. After that, it did not take Bellatrix more than a few compulsion charms to get the name and place of residence of the Muggle sister.

She waited until night fell before she made her move. In the cover of darkness, no one noticed the translucent shadow moving down the street. She had done this many times, but this might be the first night where she was not out for blood. Finding the right house was easy even though they all looked the same, as Muggles liked to live for some reason. Far from a magical settlement, even a rune cluster to light a doorstep would have stood out. The massive wards that covered the second house might as well have been a beacon.

The protection was awe-inspiring in its strength, but had two glaring flaws. First, they only spanned the house and its garden, making it trivial to either besiege the inhabitants or wait until they left, to procure food for example. And then there was the fact that it was an intent based protection, and since she had no intention to harm the child, she could pass right through. After all, Bellatrix was after the knowledge she might gather, a clue as to what had happened to her master. There seemed to be another magic woven into the wards, but it also seemed harmless. Perhaps some sort of detection spell, which meant that she should be prepared for a quick getaway if she triggered that.

The door itself had no enchantments and it only took the tiniest burst of wandless magic to slip inside. The house was dark, only the orange glow of the lanterns outside gave Bellatrix an idea of where she was. A shadow in the night, she glided through the empty hallway. She could sense a magical child, but she walked past the door three times and swept the whole house before she even considered looking into the cupboard under the stairs. It took her a long moment to comprehend what she was seeing in the darkness, and then her wand was out. It would apparently still be that kind of night.

When someone pounded at her door at two in the morning, Andromeda did not hesitate to reach for her wand. No sane person would bother her this late at night, and after what had happened to the Longbottoms, one couldn't be too careful. Ted seemed to have the same thoughts, hurrying downstairs, and nearly stumbling down the stairs while he hastily pulled a t-shirt over his head. However, once she opened the door, Andromeda found herself face to face with the last person she had been expecting, with the one she had been dreading to meet. And most curiously, she had passed through the wards with no apparent issue. Nor did she have her wand out.

"You!"

"Hello Andi – "

"Come to finish what your friends have started?" the younger sister asked, her wand pointed right at elder's nose.

"No, I – I need your help."

"What makes you think that I would help you?"

At that, Bellatrix faltered for a moment. "You like children."

Only then did Andromeda notice that the lump in her sister's robes was more than some bag.

"You had a child?"

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't know the first thing to do with them. Which is why I need your help."

"If that's not your child – "

"His parents are dead and I killed his aunt and uncle," Bellatrix said nonchalantly and walked past her sister.

"You – what?"

"Filthy muggles left him in a cupboard and had not changed him, judging by how it reeked. These muggles were like beasts, so I put them down like ones."

"You killed some muggles because they were mistreating a child?"

"Not just any child, that is Harry Potter."

"Harry - Bellatrix, what have you done?"

"What had to be done," her sister replied defiantly. "Muggles keeping a wizard worse than those red-headed blood traitors keep their pigs."

"Why were you in Harry Potter's House in the first place?"

"I was looking for him."

"But why? Did you want to finish what your master had started?" Andromeda wanted to know, finally deciding to close the door because she clearly wouldn't leave without a fight.

"The Dark Lord is gone. My husband and I decided to go looking for him, but we disagreed about what we should do," the elder sister explained. "He wanted to track down loyal followers of Dumbledore and find out what they knew. I was trying to understand the magic that brought down the Dark Lord."

"So you decided to murder Harry Potter's muggle family?"

"I went to Godric's Hollow, looking for a clue as to what happened, but the Ministry had covered everything up. But I was told that Hagrid took the boy to some Muggles, and so I called in a few favours to see if there was any truth to the rumours."

"And the double murder?"

"You would have done the same, sister," Bellatrix hissed.

"I'm inclined to disagree."

"I know what happened to the elder Rosier, and I know that you knew he was coming because I told you so."

"He was after my daughter, why would I suffer him to live?" Andromeda asked rhetorically.

"Why should I care about the lives of some Muggles? They forfeited their existence the moment they mistreated a wizard. Keeping a magical child like that is how you get an obscurus, and that would have killed them a lot slower than the few minutes I took."

"So what is your grand plan, then? Are you going to sacrifice him to bring back your Master?"

"I don't know. I was only looking for answers. Uncover the magic that caused all of this, and then see about undoing it. But since I could not do that, I went looking for the boy, hoping that he might offer a clue," Bellatrix said and glanced down at Harry. "Dumbledore had cast some very complex charms on him to feed wards the like of which I have never seen before. Blood and soul magic, I wasn't expecting that from Dumbledore."

"So, what now?"

"Well, I don't know the first thing about children, so I was hoping –"

"That I would take him?" Andromeda asked, her eyebrows feeling as if they would fall off if they went any higher. "The boy you have kidnapped?"

"Rescued. And better you than me."

"That might be the first bit of wisdom out of your mouth yet," Andromeda replied evenly. "But it does not change the fact that I have no claim to him. I was cast out of the family, which means that pretty much every other pureblood would be preferred by the courts."

"What are you saying?"

"You killed his relatives, that makes him your responsibility. You have the best claim to him, followed by Narcissa. Then probably the Parkinsons, or the Notts."

"How can I have the strongest claim?"

Taking a deep breath, Andromeda remembered the lessons they had both hated in their youth. "You are the eldest. Charles Potter, brother to the boy's grandfather, married Dorea Black. Euphemia's family was wiped out by Grindelwald. His great-grandparents merged two family branches, the generation above had a Parkinson in the male and a Nott in the female line."

"I don't fancy where this is going."

"Too bad, Harry is your responsibility now," the younger sister replied dryly. "I can help you, Merlin knows that you will need it, but unless you want to hand the boy over to our sister or Enoch Parkinson, you will have to keep him."

"Why would I care about who gets him?"

"You killed his relatives," Andromeda pointed out, but her sister merely rolled her eyes.

"So?"

"You care for him."

"Maybe a little. But I was curious about the protection on him. Soul and blood magic is far darker than I would have thought Dumbledore capable of," Bellatrix said.

"Mhm."

"And it was quite tricky to dispel. I wasn't sure what exactly the components of that spell were doing, so it was a challenging bit of magic."

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Andi!"

"What? Even if the boy was the greatest academic challenge of the century, you did not have to take him with you."

"Was I supposed to leave him next to the dead Muggles?" Bellatrix shot back, and Andromeda grimaced.

"Wouldn't have been the first time, would it?"

"Ladies, please. The hallway is not the place for such conversation. Come into the kitchen, at the very least, I'll put the kettle on," Edward cut in and pointed behind him. He had always feared the day his wife's sister would appear at their door, and frankly, out of the many possibilities he had envisioned, none came close to this. As they made their way inside, he cast a silencing spell on the first floor, least Nymphadora woke up and walked into this mess. "And for someone who supposedly does not care, you are holding him just as any mother would."

Bellatrix glared at her brother-in-law as she marched past him, but did not change how she cradled the bundle in her arms.

"Why even come here instead of Wiltshire?"

"I may not like the choices you made, sister, but I can respect you for staying true to yourself. You never hid, you never cowered when someone looked down at you after you were cast out," Bellatrix replied as she strode through the sitting room. "Meanwhile, Narcissa and her husband are throwing around gold by the cartload to make everyone forget what they were up to."

The Tonks' kitchen was almost entirely Muggle, other than some enchanted knives and cutting boards. Dark woods at least made it a little more respectable, but still very strange to her tastes. Bellatrix had to fight the urge to say something. She still needed her Andromeda's aid with this whole childcare business, and maybe a place to leave the boy for good. At age 29, she had no idea what to do with little brats, whereas her sister had got herself knocked up before leaving Hogwarts. And managed a proper NEWT result despite being in the pudding club.

"So, what did you find out? Other than Dumbledore dabbling in the dark arts?" Andromeda asked once they all sat at the kitchen table, her sister and husband glaring at each other.

"There is the rumour that the boy survived the killing curse and vanquished the Dark Lord. Utter nonsense, if you ask me, Lily Potter must have been done it."

"Oh?"

"The girl was talented, otherwise Flitwick would not have taken her as his apprentice. She was also a favourite of Professor Slughorn, and the old man has a very keen eye for talent. For the most part at least," Bellatrix said with a pointed look at Edward. "But while the girl had some skill, she was not the Dark Lord's equal."

"And yet, he is dead."

"There are certain rituals that ensure your killer goes with you. I think she must have cast one of those."

"And the scar on his forehead?"

"Funny how accurate the information is, given that anyone who witnessed the events is dead. Well, anyone other than this 15-month old baby," Bellatrix said and pulled some fabric aside to reveal an ugly, fresh scar on his forehead.

"It looks fresh."

"That is new," Bellatrix admitted with clear bewilderment. The scar had been ugly when she picked up the toddler, but it had already healed over.

"What did you do to him?" her sister asked and pulled Harry from her arms.

"Nothing. I dispelled the wards, set the house on fire and left."

"You know what that means?"

"That Dumbledore used blood magic on him," Bellatrix replied immediately and flashed a dangerous grin. "Not something I would have expected from the dear Headmaster."

"So what, Dumbledore used Harry for a ritual, and blamed the resulting scar on him?" Edward asked as he carried a steaming tea set.

"I went looking out for the boy to find out what happened to the Dark Lord, and possibly reverse it," Bellatrix replied with undisguised reverence. "Lily Potter must have been the one who dabbled in dark magic and obscure runes. That's how she got the Dark Lord. Dumbledore then used her spellwork as a foundation for whatever wards he wove. And once I cancelled the protection anchor, that must have caused the wound to bleed again. It's the only explanation that fits the facts."

"You said that the Muggles were mistreating him? Then let me have a look at him. I am no healer, but I picked up a few things over the years."

"Don't worry sister, I shan't expose your bootleg potion brewery to the Ministry."

Albus Dumbledore had thought he had everything under control. Harry had been left with Lily's sister, and two years later, when his conscience plagued him, he sent someone trusted to keep an eye on the boy. Many would have dismissed Arabella without second thought, but a squib had never known magic, and she could therefore blend in with Muggles a lot easier. She had reported that builders had been working on the house, which warmed his heart. It was good that Petunia put effort into housing her nephew.

Afterwards, each time he asked, she had said that there was nothing to report, just an ordinary family of four living an ordinary life. He rested easy on the knowledge that Harry Potter was having a normal time growing up, far from the fame that was bound to overwhelm him. It never occurred to him to ask for the last name of the family at Number Four, or else he would have learned that it was inhabited by the Grangers, a family of two dentists who had two daughters called Hermione and Helena. So even the reports about accidental magic made sense, much to his detriment.

When Harry's Hogwarts letter returned, he did not think much of it. Clearly, Petunia had grown beyond the animosity and put the past behind her. It was only the day before the year was about to begin when he pulled out that letter again, and then stumbled across the signature at the bottom. Andromeda Tonks, Praefecta Black.

Now, Dumbledore knew that Andromeda had been reinstated into the family, and even more curiously, she was the one who represented the Blacks in the Wizengamot. That much he knew, given he presided over the assembly. Andromeda had been voting moderately for the most part. She was sound on any legislation regarding Muggleborn and Muggles, which was not surprising given her husband. She also made no friends voting for guilty verdicts, if anything she was one of the most bloodthirsty members in that regard. He never had reason to think much about her, other than some mild curiosity regarding her appointment in the first place. Except now, she somehow was the one to respond to Harry's Hogwarts letter.

Had she found the Dursleys? Andromeda and Lily had not been friends as far as he knew, but perhaps they had met through Sirius and James. But even that would only explain her name, not the title she put onto the letter. Which reminded Dumbledore of the mess surrounding Sirius Black, and the curious announcement his family had made afterwards, stating that Sirius had not betrayed the Potters, but blown up the man who did. Which did nothing to get Sirius out of Azkaban, but the announcement had come with an odd sense of pride between the letters, as if blowing up a wizard and twelve Muggles proved his true colours. In the end, it changed nothing but pull the rug from under the push for Pettigrew's posthumous Order of Merlin.

He took out an envelope, cast the charm to address it to Harry, and frowned when it merely read Harry Potter-Black, Powys. Which was odd in two ways. As far as he knew, the Tonks family lived near Faversham in Kent, not in Wales. And the unspecified address meant Harry was under an unplottable charm at the very least. A visit to the Department of Records clearly was in order. Only there, Albus Dumbledore realised the magnitude of his mistake.

Bellatrix Black was not a witch often seen out and about. Whispers followed her everywhere she went, about her role in the War, about her ascension to the head of the Black family, and the seemingly miraculous reconciliation with her younger sister after Andromeda had been cast out. Many suspected her of terrible crimes, and they would be right, yet they lacked the evidence to prove anything.

Not that she did anything to quench those rumours. Striding through King's Cross in a black suit of dragon leather, she appeared to wear both an elegant dress and duelling robes at the same time. Bellatrix radiated a mixture of confidence and an aloof sense of superiority. She knew she could win a fight against anyone, and she was not afraid to show it. Nor was the witch at her side any less dangerous.

However, the boy at her left disturbed the show of strength, not that anyone would dare to state this fact. In fact, his presence drew a lot of stares, leaving people wondering just who he was. His position far from her made it clear he was not Andromeda's, yet there was no Lestrange or Black birth on public record to match the boy with the mop of hair as black and messy as his apparent family. And the young women with spiky blue hair put a nail through any threatening aura this curious group might have had. Although just because she looked like she stepped out of the cover of a punk album, that did not change the fact that she had learned curses at the knee of Voldemort's enforcer, and her only slightly less formidable mother.

"And remember, do not go seeking out my sister's spawn, but do not hesitate to put him in the hospital wing if you get the opportunity to do so. Lucius and Narcissa are corrupt cowards, and little Draco is the worst of them combined."

"Yes Auntie, I remember what he said about Auntie Andi at Hestia's and Flora's birthday."

Andromeda opened her mouth, but dismissed her reply and instead settled on what she considered the more important advice. "Remember, do not get caught."

The boy wrapped an arm around each sister, and Andromeda Tonks felt like pinching herself when she saw the tears in Bellatrix's eyes. Then her own daughter wrapped them all into a group hug, and Andromeda felt her own tears forming. She had thought that she was safe after Nymphadora had graduated from Hogwarts, but saying goodbye to Harry was just as painful.

His friendly smile frozen on his face, Albus Dumbledore was the picture of a kind great-grandfather. Behind the mask however, his stomach felt like an iron pit as he watched Harry Potter walk up to the Sorting Hat. The boy-who-lived, the child of prophecy, the one with the power Tom knew not. He wore very fine robes, made to fit much better than the standard fare at Gladrags. And the boy carried himself confidently, although more reminiscent of his own father rather than Tom Riddle. Still, Harry had been raised by Bellatrix Lestrange, who somehow had adopted him less than two weeks after his parents' deaths. She has had a decade to twist him into a puppet for her purposes, a decade to teach the dark arts. Who knew which black rituals she had carried out on the poor boy, what lies she filled his head with –

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Sorting Hat had barely touched Harry's head, who promptly jumped up again and made his way to his assigned table, his steps echoing through the cavernous hall while everyone else was trying to process what just had happened. With two parents from Gryffindor, everyone had assumed he would follow in those footsteps. Or be sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore thought darkly. Then all hell broke loose as the Hufflepuff's broke out their stupor and began cheering enthusiastically, as if they had already won the house cup.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose further when the boy walked past the scions of old families and sat next to a muggleborn girl with auburn hair. Megan Jones, the enchantment on his glasses provided, from Swansea if his memory was correct. Filius had bitterly complained about the awful weather when he had been down there.

All of this left Albus with more questions than it answered. Bellatrix Lestrange had been a Death Eater, Severus had told him as much. Tom's right hand even, who only avoided Azkaban because anyone who could testify against her was dead, or keeping their mouth shut lest she would drag them down with her. And yet, despite that past, she reconciled with her banished sister, reinstated her even, but not with the one married to another Death Eater. It could all be a plot of course, but with which purpose?

Andromeda had been a misfit Slytherin, but both her husband and their daughter had been in Hufflepuff. Had those two been the real influence on Harry, and Bellatrix just a smokescreen? Was the sorting a ruse de guerre? But why, and to what purpose? He had snubbed some of the more prominent families in favour of a Muggleborn with whom he was whispering in rapid Welsh, even if he was not as fluent as the girl. So the Welsh address had been his actual residence, but probably not since 1981. Another piece, another riddle.

The term was over, and Albus thought once more about what laid most heavily on his mind. The Prophecy that had caused so much suffering. At first, it could have applied to two children, but Voldemort had marked one, and the other had been dead for a decade. And Harry had then been stolen away from his aunt.

Stolen presumably by Bellatrix Black, who was nothing but an enigma. She had been Tom's right hand, but after the events of that fateful Samhain, she changed. Barely batted an eye at the death of her husband and his brother, the reconciliation with one sister, her caustic disdain for the one married to her former comrade, it all made no sense. There was even a rumour that Narcissa had been cast out by the Blacks, but that seemed as likely as Rita's article about Bellatrix falling into bed with her sister and poor Edward.

Harry Potter on the other hand was by all accounts a normal boy, with a love for Charms and for flying. He would undoubtedly join the Hufflepuff Quidditch team next year, and was unremarkable in the other subjects. Much to Minerva's dismay. Aurora also had nothing but praise for him, but Astronomy would not help with fulfilling the Prophecy.

Harry's friends were nothing to worry about, he was inseparable from the Jones girl, and according to Pomona, those two spoke Welsh with each other, mostly because it got a rise of everyone who did not understand them. That had to be James shining through. Terry Boot was the scion of a grey family, but overall a genial boy, and the two Ravenclaw girls were equally harmless. He also got along well with Fay Dunbar, who was as eager to go flying as Harry was, each preparing for the tryouts of their house team. He and Hermione Granger were an interesting pair of academic rivals, with her beating him on the theoretical side, and Harry being better at casting most spells. Still, as serious as this little feud was to the two children, the teachers found the whole thing amusing and commendable, as it pushed the pair towards excellence, and Ravenclaw to win the House Cup. Unlike the constant fights between the Gryffindor and Slytherin boys, which only ever ended in detentions and lost points.

Albus felt the urge to reach for a bottle of his brother's most potent moonshine, even though the Hogwarts Express had barely left Hogsmeade station. Everything had gone wrong, Harry was in the hands of a Death Eater while Tom escaped his trap after he left his host to die. And yet, did he not believe in second chances? Did he not think that love triumphed over everything else? That there was no greater love than a parent has for their child?

Albus just never expected that the one to prove him right would be Bellatrix Black.

AN:

Beta'ed by doenerkint/Babidibupi.

Just a bit of crack to make fun of the "Harry raised by a Death Eater" fics.