A/N: & We're off to Hogwarts! Time to shine. Let the character building roll. To clarify a review - Runation is simply the making of runes and using them for magic. I always found Ancient Runes in canon to be on the theory side of the magical branch. So I'm adding Runation/Rune Crafting to the Hogwarts curriculum to overcome this shortcoming I see - the Runes studied in Hogwarts are a Nordic/Germanic form of magic that I'd assume the Saxons & Danes would have brought along with them to the British Isles before the Norman Conquest.
AU Changes: Lestranges are twins for this fic. More OC introductions. & Hogwarts Classes
The Tragedy of Harry Potter
By. Momento Virtuoso
Edited by: BoredBarrister
A/N: I do not own Harry Potter unlike J.K.
Chapter 6
Misgivings and Misdeeds
The ancestral home of the Blacks was alive with guests mingling around in the large parlor, celebrating the engagement of Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy.
Bellatrix felt out of place as she watched her youngest sister, Narcissa greet and chat with guests while on the arm of her smirking husband-to-be; the fool was just lucky to be engaged to someone of such standing as Narcissa. Bellatrix, like many of the Blacks, considered the Malfoys to be several rungs below them on the social ladder.
The Ancient and Most Noble family was divided, of late, by all the matches for marriage being put forth. Many sided with Walburga, believing it was best for the three daughters of Black. Then there were the opposers like Arcturus, then Bellatrix and Andromeda themselves. It was only because of their grandfather that they persevered.
Walburga had been a haunting presence over her two nieces ever since Lord Black had torn up the marriage contracts in front of her, binding the woman via family magic to not propose another match for the girls.
However, Bellatrix already saw the loophole that Walburga would exploit. One way or another, she'd try to cart her and Andy off to the Lestranges.
Walburga was a bitter woman when it came to the concept of marriage. She herself had been tied to her cousin in an effort to keep assets within the family and the bloodline pure for another generation. She bore little to no love for Orion, and perhaps none for her own two sons.
But the woman was a prideful Black through and through, who did her duty to the House. A sense of duty that she had tried instilling into her sons and nieces; the lesson sticking for some more than others.
Soon, the celebrated couple made their way back around the room towards Bellatrix.
"Bella, what are you doing all by yourself, here in this corner, sister?" Narcissa asked, approaching her eldest sister first with a smile bright upon her face. The young girl was enjoying being the center of attention of the room, outshining everyone else in attendance for once.
Narcissa stood out in a satin black dress that made their younger sister appear ethereal with her pale skin in contrast. It was one of the newest pieces of high fashion coming out of Paris, the sort that many pureblood women envied each other for.
The youngest Black's betrothed, Lucius, wore a fine green robe with his long platinum hair pulled back into a ponytail. A smile rested upon his face, but did not fully reach his eyes like his future bride's. The young Malfoy was not enamored with his wife-to-be yet, but he could see the potential that the match held for them.
Bellatrix greeted her future brother-in-law with a sneer when he approached them, offering his arm back to Narcissa.
Bellatrix could practically smell the shit on his nose from whoever's ass he just had it up last.
"Bella, you look radiant as ever," Lucius greeted the raven-locked witch. His eyes passed over Bellatrix's form. While he was happy to have a bride like Narcissa, there was a small smoldering ember of jealousy for the Lestrange brother who would possess Bellatrix one day.
"And you look quite handsome yourself, Lucius — more so with a flower such as my sister upon your arm," Bellatrix with false pretense. Inside her mind, though, she was already plotting her escape from the pair.
"Quite so. Your sister is a blessing upon me and my house, Bellatrix. Women from the House of Black are some of the most coveted matches, after all," the Malfoy heir praised. Narcissa's face broke into a crimson blush at his words.
Lucius Malfoy was several years Bellatrix's senior, having been a seventh year student when she had arrived at Hogwarts in 1971. Lucius had been a mentor and early confidante back then to many of those who had found themselves immersed in the Pureblood movement now.
He was politically savvy, dangerous with his wand, and had an acumen for manipulating others. He was what many in their House had considered to be the perfect Slytherin. Bellatrix saw him for the snake he was, though. Lucius was a dangerous sort of wizard — one wouldn't want to expose their back to him for too long — but behind all his venom and fangs was a serpent reluctant to strike by himself; he needed a swarm to feel strong. He wouldn't even attack a first year by herself without a posse.
"Make sure to appreciate your blessings, Lucius. Treat my little sister wisely with care. You never know when those blessings might transfigure into curses," Bellatrix snarked at the Malfoy Heir.
"Bella!" Narcissa cried in indignation at her sister before turning to her betrothed. "I would never do such a thing, Lucius, my darling," Narcissa reassured her husband-to-be from Bellatrix's veiled threat, placing her hand against his chest in a soothing manner.
Her older sister simply shook her head at her. Lucius' eyes turned sharp at Bellatrix, his mouth a thin line of displeasure, wanting to voice his true opinion about the witch's underhanded threat but he was a guest in their home and she was to be his sister-in-law in time.
'Oh Cissy, you really took those Pureblood home-making lessons from Auntie to heart, didn't you?' Bellatrix thought. Watching her sister only reinforced her goal of avoiding a match of this sort. She was saddened to see her sister fall so quickly into line for Malfoy, more akin to an obedient pet than a partner. They weren't even married yet; she was still a Black.
Lucius, though, had heard enough. "If you would excuse us, Bella, I believe the Minister of Magic needs a word with me about a proposal my father and I are drafting," he said with a slight edge, pulling his betrothed with him as Bellatrix nodded her consent for their departure.
She stood there for a while by herself until Andromeda approached her and joined her vigil.
Arcturus watched his family interact with the Malfoys. The Black family head had tried to talk his youngest granddaughter out of the match, but the girl had insisted that this was what she had wanted. Arcturus could see the girl had fantasized the character of her betrothed in her own head. The Malfoy heir was a boy of a cruel demeanor that Arcturus could clearly see. He could only hope that the young girl would see the error of the match before it was too late.
Sipping his own wine, the old man went back to glaring at the guests who had infested his home, using his cold eyes to keep away anyone seeking to produce small talk or kiss his ass. The old man noticed his other two granddaughters huddled together, away from the Malfoy guests as well. Those two would choose better for their matches, Arcturus hoped.
Bellatrix and Andromeda wore matching deep purple dresses with green jewels sewn into the fabric. Andromeda wore a diadem upon her head, while Bellatrix's wand hand was covered in ornate rings. Each girl wore a pair of simple silver circlets on their biceps in the shapes of serpents, for their Hogwarts House.
Like many socialites in pureblood circles, the Black sisters wore the usual fashion coming from cities such as Paris or Rome.
Bellatrix and her sister watched as their aunt showed off their cousin Regulus like he was a prized show pony to anyone who passed her by in the room.
Aunt Walburga was holding Regulus by the shoulder and praising him in front of Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, Allore. The young Black looked like he wanted to be anywhere else by his eyes and stiff posture, but Regulus was a dutiful son who stood proudly with his mother, smiling and engaging in the conversation with her guests.
'Regulus, you poor sacrifice… it should have been any of us instead of you,' Bellatrix thought grimly. She nor the rest of the family weren't ignorant to what Walburga had essentially sold her youngest son to. The young boy was not even fifteen, and already one could see the pressure being mounted on his shoulders as the supposed family heir and whatever he had become for the movement his mother championed.
It sickened Bellatrix that a Black would be serving underneath someone – anyone for that matter, even if that person styled themselves as a Dark Lord.
Bellatrix believed that a wizard would have to be extraordinary to pledge her service to, and frankly she didn't see any reason to do so with the pureblood movement. While her cousin Sirius had opted for outwards rebellion within their social system, Bellatrix was content to shake things up with her own forms of inner rebellion.
It was small things she only did at first, like watching the muggles walk the streets of London out the windows on the top floor of Grimmauld Place. As she grew bolder, next came reading muggle books she managed to sneak inside the walls of her room. Bellatrix listened to an odd muggle song while out in London one time and then finally came the thought crimes; believing that perhaps muggles were potentially more than the simple creatures her aunt often painted them as.
In truth, many in the family didn't care for muggles nor muggle-borns. It was only asked that they were a benefit of some sorts to the family name if associated with. They had to be conforming to the traditions which they, and the rest of wizarding society held.
When she had begun her resistance to the expectations of society which she found stifling, Bellatrix hadn't felt much more than a curious passing interest in the muggle world outside her own — like how one would look up at the stars to fly amongst but be perfectly content with keeping their feet upon land.
Bellatrix was broken from her thoughts by her sister Andromeda, her eyes moving to the flute of champagne, pillaged from the tray of a passing house elf, pushed into her face.
"Careful sister dear, you're going to light Aunt Walburga on fire with accidental magic if you stare at her with any more loathing," Andromeda said in a sing-song manner, taking a sip from her own flute to hide her grin from passers-by.
"There'd be nothing accidental about that, Andy. Believe me, the woman deserves everything coming to her. Selling us all like she has… poor Reg more than any of us. We'd only have to marry the bastards…" Bellatrix gulped down half her drink, her tongue thrashing at the taste, puckering her face into a grimace. Bellatrix glared down at the flute of wine.
"Couldn't you have spared me, Andy, and got a flask of firewhisky instead?" Bellatrix begged, frowning harshly as her sister giggled behind her glass once more.
Andromeda shook her head with a smile at Bellatrix's perceived anger. She knew when her sister was truly angered or bitter; this was Bellatrix when she was simply having a good time of sorts.
However, Andromeda thought about her sister's words. "She really would have, wouldn't she? Sold us to those two monsters —" Andromeda couldn't finish the words, downing her own flute of wine in a gulp. Bellatrix only nodded, confirming for Andromeda what they both knew.
They were prizes for the men of their society, to bear children, and be told how to act their place; they were nothing more than decorations, to be seen rather than heard. That was what was expected of them by any suitor and their Lestrange matches would have been no exception.
The Lestrange twins were of ill repute. While their family could boast a long undiluted history of pure marriages, Rabastan and Rodolphus were sub-par wizards in Bellatrix's opinion. Both were brutish, boorish, and held a vicious streak that was quick to surface when things didn't go their way. While Bellatrix didn't mind a bit of viciousness, it was not something she would have ever wished for her younger sister, Andromeda.
"Bella… about yesterday —" Andy hesitated on her words, being stopped altogether by a hand from her sister.
"Don't, Andy. Frankly, I don't need to know, and the less I do, the better," Bella assured her sister. "Just do me a favour and be safe, ok? I don't want you to get hurt."
In truth, Bellatrix had wanted to say that she had actually approved of Ted Tonks. Despite being a muggle-born, he had put his body between a fight and a pureblood witch. He had protected their bloodline — that was a steep debt to accrue from the Blacks.
"Ted would never hurt me," Andy whispered, shaking her head at the concept. The younger sister fumbled with the lace of her dress sleeve between her fingers in anxiety.
However, Bellatrix simply glanced at her sister in acknowledgment, accepting another glass of champagne from a passing house-elf before spilling the contents onto the floor and vanishing it with her wand.
"I wasn't just referring to your muggle-born boy-toy," Bellatrix said ominously. Like all members of the Black family, there was a spark of rebellion in Andromeda. Some broke away from the family like Sirius, some simply held traitorous fascinations in their heads like Bellatrix, and others like Andy were enamored with a muggle-born.
Bellatrix's eyes roamed around the parlor and ballroom. There were several other family members and friends in attendance, gathered in small conversations lining the room while several others danced in the middle.
A quartet of enchanted instruments belled out the tune for a waltz as they floated in the air as if hung by wires from the ceiling.
Uncle Alphard was boasting over some tall tale he used to icebreak at business meetings, trying to coax a laugh out of his brother Orion, and Lord Parkinson. Off in another corner of the room, Aunt Lucretia spoke with their own mother, Druella.
What interested Bellatrix most was how Arcturus Black, the head of the family, simply sat in a chair overlooking the whole room grumpily, like a man who had seen his entire life before his eyes.
'Grandfather is usually a melancholic fellow, but this is bordering on extreme,' Bellatrix noted, not missing how the patriarch's gaze shifted to her and her sister every so often.
"Grandfather has been in a downcast mood these last few weeks, don't you think, Andy?" Bellatrix asked, shifting her sister's own attention onto the man.
Andromeda looked over at their grandfather and noticed the man's demeanor. Arcturus's expression looked much like the Bloody Baron's when he was haunting out and about the dungeons near their common room.
"It can't be an easy thing seeing your youngest granddaughter betrothed before her older siblings, even for someone like him, I suppose," Andromeda said.
Everyone in the room was aware of the faux-pas perpetrated by Walburga in keeping Narcissa's betrothal despite pausing her machinations — under order of Arcturus — for the two older siblings.
"So, what do you think about the wizard who saved you and Tonks?" Bellatrix suddenly asked, wishing she had another alcoholic drink in her hand that wasn't the piss being shilled out by the house elves. Bellatrix could do with getting blissfully drunk, but there was still the train ride over to Hogwarts she'd have to endure, and she'd rather not do so with a hangover.
"Evans? He came out like a guardian angel if I'm being honest — not a moment too soon," the brown-haired girl muttered, shaking her head. "Rabastan was getting too close for comfort — I'm sure you understand," Andromeda said with a disgusted grimace.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, a flash of anger coursing through her. She'd have to remember to geld the bastard in his sleep when they returned to Hogwarts. Bellatrix had intended to only take his hand for touching her sister and raising a wand against herself, but perhaps her aim should have been lower.
"Guardian angel, eh? At least he seemed to like you well enough to be one. He looked like he wanted to send a blasting curse to scatter my remains after cutting my head off for good measure," Bellatrix said.
Evans' anger toward her had been an interesting phenomenon for Bellatrix. The witch knew that going into the duel between him and Lestrange, wand a-blazing, hadn't done her any favors for a first impression. No wizard ever took kindly to being attacked in the back, but the target had been too tempting in the moment for her.
But the spell that Evans sent her way was a spell created to kill. It didn't attempt to restrain her nor injure to incapacitate her, but instead attempted to take her life by ripping her throat out; Bellatrix didn't want to wager on whether or not the spectral serpent would have dragged her to the wizard's feet either to be finished off more intimately. The spell had negated the physical barrier she transfigured entirely, forcing her to rely on a last second defense.
Bellatrix had tried to rub off the fear of the attack by verbally antagonizing the young man and to apologize for sending a curse his way by lifting the mind curse inflicted on his mind by Lestrange.
For her troubles, though, she had been manhandled and subjected to a glare which chilled her blood. Bellatrix knew the boy vehemently wanted her dead and he was more than willing to commit the act, despite the mental torture he was under.
There were few wizards or witches alive who could keep a singular passing thought under that curse; let alone hold a singular goal in mind to keep pushing towards. Harry Evans had definitely been out on a mission for her head in that alley.
Bellatrix wanted to — no, she needed to know why he had behaved as such. After seeing Evans hold his own against her and Lestrange in a way, he was not one to make an enemy out of. At least not unknowingly to the extent she had.
The witch made it a personal mission to know exactly who was on her shit-list or not. However, she had somehow managed to land on Harry Evans' list somehow without knowing the cause.
"Did you see Evans' wand, perchance, Andy?" Bellatrix suddenly asked Andromeda, wanting to know if her sister had noticed what she had.
Andromeda, while never one to express her knowledge nor ever possessing the desire to use it, was one of the most accomplished Blacks in the family when it came to Dark Magic. Walburga had seen it as a way of trying to stem her middle niece's soft and kind nature, hoping to turn her over to a darker leaf.
Andromeda turned her head in confusion at Bellatrix's inquiry. She hadn't been able to see much of the fight at all due to Ted shielding her with his body. Andromeda had been terrified that she and Ted would be hit by a spell gone awry.
"What about his wand?" she questioned, curious about her sister's train of thought.
Bellatrix shook her head at her sister. "It just has an interesting look. Don't think anything on it, Andy dear," Bellatrix responded with a shrug of her shoulders. If Andromeda hadn't seen what she had, then it wouldn't do any good to bring up the corruption she had noticed marring the wood.
It was best not to tell her sister that her hero had potentially cast some very nefarious magic with his wand, if its corruption was anything to go by.
Even Bellatrix's own walnut wand was beginning to show the signs of small strains of corruption, from the few dark spells she had practiced under her grandfather's tutelage. Her walnut wand was stronger with curses and jinxes than other spells. The wood was beginning to show a slight darkness to its tint. In a few more years, or a decade at most, it'd be visible to anyone who saw the wand from a small distance rather than up close.
The two sisters stood silently together for a while.
'I'll have to corner Evans when we're on the train, at some point,' Bellatrix thought glumly. She just couldn't shake the look behind Evans' eyes as he had pressed his wand against her heart. The man had looked near ready to murder, and that always interested her.
September 1st came quickly for Harry as he managed his affairs and structured his new life. In the month since his death in the Forbidden Forest and arrival in the past, Harry had become well-adjusted to 1977.
Harry had received Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, and Acceptable on all of his O.W.L. examinations. Dumbledore had let him have his pick of the classes offered for whatever N.E.W.T.s Harry wanted to pursue in his final year.
The Headmaster had also sent him a letter explaining how to get to the platform for the Hogwarts Express, and that Harry would have to undergo the sorting process with all the first years, much to his embarrassment. Not that Harry was ignorant to either of these things, of course
Harry had finished his month by passing his Apparition exam and completing his school shoppings. Harry had purchased potion supplies, herbology equipment, and even a rune kit for the new class he was going to take. Harry managed to fit all his new belongings within a personal suitcase upon which he had cast the Undetectable Extension charm, for the unlimited space.
He bound the case with a rune he had been practicing; the rune was reminiscent of two 'X's sat over the other, with a straight line through their center. The description of the mark stated that it would prevent thievery by deterring anyone other than himself from entering and rifling through his belongings.
Harry had found a passion for the branch of magic and had spent many nights studying the valuable etched craft. Moreover, the Time-traveling wizard had discovered that he had a talent for it, with many of the shapes coming to him quite easily.
Harry was curious what had happened to the class between now and 1991 for it to be removed from the curriculum of the magical institution, with only Ancient Runes being offered in Harry's previous timeline.
It was probably the class he was most excited for, next to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
While Harry held many hopeful thoughts for his upcoming final year at Hogwarts with his parents and all the figures he had only ever heard stories of, his mind was also embroiled in what he had to do with the gift he had been given by time for all of this.
Harry had been given an opportunity to stop Voldemort during his first rise to power — he could prevent so much pain and suffering. However, he couldn't just walk up to anyone and reveal his secretive origins.
He was to be alone, of sorts, in this endeavor, though at least not as the destined figurehead for the side of Light this time around. Harry would just be another foot soldier in the Order or, Merlin forbid, the Ministry.
Harry wouldn't let Voldemort know about the prophecy this time around. He would need to handle Snape when he could, Harry thought grimly, unable to decide what to do with the man who would go on to sell his childhood friend to the Dark Lord.
Harry thought of the spy who was his former potions master. When Harry had entered Hogwarts at age eleven in 1991, he had wondered who the man was. Harry had foolishly believed him to be a dark force out to see him dead. Yet, in his departure from that life in 1998, Harry thought that perhaps Severus Snape was one of the bravest men he could have ever possibly known.
The conclusion resolved Harry to save the man from his fate in the Shrieking Shack. 'Nobody deserves that ending' he thought, to perish the way Snape had in the Shrieking Shack.
The resolution brought back the parting words that Dumbledore had exchanged with him before the jump to the past, ringing loudly in his head once more, like a mantra.
"By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart, that even those beyond current redemption have a hand held out to them in their darkest moment."
Maybe this had always been his duty? Perhaps his purpose was always to die and travel back to this time. Harry considered time-travel being 'the power the Dark Lord knows not', that the prophecy spoke of, but he wasn't going to bet on that hippogriff for that race.
The lines of fate were vague for reasons that smarter men than Dumbledore had tried to untangle.
Looking over the contents he had packed for the year one more time, Harry left his room in the Leaky Cauldron for the last time, departing for King's Cross Station, to catch the train to what would be the rest of his life.
The scarlet train which delivered students to Hogwarts every year, the Hogwarts Express, sat stationary in Platform 9 ⅓ Quarters, with parents and family ushering kids onto the train in hurried, emotional goodbyes. Students waved to their families from the open windows of the train, while those left on the platform returned the gestures with fervor. The whole station was filled with a symphony of voices.
Harry moved his way through the crowds, trying not to think of the Weasleys or the Order members who had often accompanied him to the platform at the beginning of his terms at Hogwarts.
More than ever, Harry felt alone now. He had no family to see him off to Hogwarts; even in a world where both his parents were alive.
Soon the train's whistle produced the loud notice for departure, its interlocked gears began to spin along the track, picking up momentum as they went.
Harry wore simple muggle clothes — a t-shirt with trousers underneath his open wizard robe, a style that he began to favor as it was suitable among muggle and wizarding communities. Boarding the train, Harry maneuvered around students in the carriage halls, looking for an empty compartment for the journey to the castle.
Spotting a carriage solely occupied by a young man with scars upon his face, Harry's eyes widened in recognition at the boy's features. Behind the screen door was a young and slightly less drab Professor Lupin. Remus's hair had not yet totally grayed, showcasing his brown locks with blonde highlights.
Knocking on and opening the door, Harry immediately grabbed the werewolf's attention as Remus flinched at the noise from his entrance.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I join you? Every other place is full," Harry asked, opting to go the Ronald Weasley approach for his introductions.
Remus gulped and nodded his consent. The young werewolf was still nervous around people, despite all the years he had spent socializing at Hogwarts.
Harry held his hand out for the werewolf to shake. "I'm Harry Evans, it's nice to finally meet someone who didn't close a door in my face," Harry joked.
"Remus, Lupin," the scarred man said. "You're a new student, and an Evans at that?" Remus questioned in a slight shock. He had never heard of a transfer student ever attending Hogwarts, yet it was the latter which intrigued him deeply.
"Yeah, I'll be in the seventh year," Harry admitted, ignoring the question on his chosen surname. Harry set his case on the rack above both boys' heads before taking a seat across from Remus at the window.
The door to the compartment opened before Harry could ask Remus about his time at Hogwarts to learn more about the man, and Remus about whether Harry knew a certain Lily Evans.
A young man with shoulder-length black hair, high cheekbones, and a handsome jawline. The black-haired boy looked aristocratic, but held himself with a devil-may-care attitude.
Harry looked over, unable to hide the shock from his face at seeing his godfather alive and well, even if he was only seventeen now.
"Moony mate! You've bloody missed it, I just saw James snogging a fine - oh! Who is this strapping chappy?" Sirius cut himself off, looking Harry over with a passing eye.
Sirius Black was every bit as loud and boisterous as the stories proclaimed him to be in youth.
Harry was staring at his future godfather, the image of the man who fell through the veil conflicting with the one before him. He knew rationally that he would see Sirius again upon his return to the past, but he had never mentally prepared for the moment.
The Sirius Black before him was not gaunt and starved but rather lithe and seemingly muscular. He bore no visible tattoos, gray hair, or madness from thirteen years in prison residing in his eyes.
"Think he's got a permanent case of langlock, eh?" Sirius joked to Remus as he sat next to his werewolf friend across from Harry, leaning forward and waving his hand in front of the boy with glasses.
"Sorry, I just spaced out there. Name's Harry Evans," Harry offered his hand to Sirius to shake.
"Sirius Black, from the Dusty and Most Pitiful Noble House," the dark haired man smirked, grasping Harry's hand firmly.
"I'll say mate, you looked like you've seen a ghost there. You'll have some trouble at Hogwarts if that's the case, we've got more hauntings than a Ministry waiting room," Sirius smirked, his eyes darting to Remus in question at Harry's surname, the communication passing between the two marauders wordlessly.
"Behave Sirius, he's new. Probably just overwhelmed is all — especially by you at the moment. You remember how we all were that first year," Remus chided his friend, pulling the Black into the seat next to him.
Unbeknownst to both, though, Harry was indeed beginning to feel overwhelmed. He hadn't expected to make either man's acquaintance so soon; he had been fretting about this day since it had sunk in the previous month that he was in this timeline for good. There was even a part of him that feared he wouldn't even be sorted into the same house as his father and friends.
"You're right in a way, I suppose," Harry joked to the two boys, and internally to himself.
"Say Harry mate, you wouldn't happen to have a sister, cousin, or wife named Lily? Or a brother named James, perhaps?" Sirius asked with an eyebrow raised in question. Remus hit Sirius in the side with his elbow for the latter end of the question about Lily.
"Ow! Fuck you, Moony! It's a valid question. He has her last name and the same bloody eyes, for Morrigan's sake! Hell, he even looks a bit like James!" Sirius cried in indignation, pointing at the werewolf.
Harry stiffened though at the question. He should have realized he would have run into this problem when he told the current Dumbledore his name last month, but in truth, Harry had only realized the implications of his decision days after the fact.
Like Hermione had always said, Harry had opened his mouth without thinking and really put his foot in it this time.
"Sorry, the names don't ring any bells," Harry had to lie, trying to keep his nerves composed.
He didn't know how he would react to meeting James Potter, but Lily Evans was probably the person he was most anxious about meeting.
Soon, however, like the bad luck from seeing an Augurey, the girl and boy in question flew into the compartment, with Lily Evans pulling a flustered James Potter behind her.
"God— I mean Merlin, you three wouldn't believe what this dunderhead almost walked into. He practically had the Lestrange twins, Flint, and Mulciber about to claim his head for a trophy," Lily sighed.
She was halfway dressed in her uniform for school, a black standard Hogwarts robe was thrown over the muggle clothes she had arrived at the train platform in. On the crest of her dark robe was a pin labeling her as Head Girl. James wore the same pin, but on a red jumper instead of his school robes.
However, both she and James stopped when they noticed Harry, in shock.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I thought you were our friend Peter for a moment there," Lily apologized. Holding her hand out to Harry, "My name is Lily Evans."
Harry's face scrunched up at being compared to a rat like Peter Pettigrew. Clearing the expression off his face quickly, to avoid it being mistaken for something else, Harry shook his future mother's hand.
"Harry Evans; it's nice to meet you. Remus and Sirius were just telling me about you both, I think."
The redhead 'oph!'ed in shock at Harry's last name, her face questioning. "Of no relation, I'm sure," Harry said, smiling at the girl who would be his mother one day. Lily simply nodded and smiled, her green eyes shining as she laughed nervously at being caught thinking she had a long-lost family member at Hogwarts.
James looked on oddly at the man seated in their Marauders' Compartment, stepping forward to offer the newcomer his own hand in greeting. "James Potter. I'm Head Boy, and Lily's new boyfriend," he announced smugly to the whole group, his eyebrows dancing at his two friends who simply stared like water deprived fish.
Lily smacked him on the arm for the comment while Remus tried to rein his surprise and Sirius let out a loud wolf whistle that rang through the carriage compartment.
"Speaking of Peter — who is our fourth friend by the way, Harry, you'll meet him later I suppose -" James told Harry. "Where is Wormtail? Have any of you seen a hide or tail?" James asked Sirius and Remus. Both boys shook their heads at their friend. Peter was oddly absent; their fourth friend had always ridden with them to Hogwarts since second year.
"I'm sure Peter will join us eventually," Lily said diplomatically. The redhead sat down next to James, who was seated next to Harry.
"Merlin, it's like seeing double. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Polyjuice gone bad, or I was hit with a confundo," Sirius choked, looking between Harry and James.
"Who exactly are your parents, Harry?" the Black family outcast inquired.
Harry simply shrugged. Despite the two being very much alive at this time and sitting next to him, it was almost instinct for him to respond as he always would.
"I never knew them," Harry answered naturally. "They were killed by a Dark wizard when I was a baby, so I grew up as an orphan."
The whole compartment sat in silent shock at the tale of Harry's admission. Finally, one broke the eerie silence.
"Holy Harpies, that's intense," James insensitively said about his own future murder, unknowingly.
"So that explains the scar, then?" Sirius asked. Pointing up at Harry's forehead where the lightning shape rested.
Almost reflexively, Harry moved to cover the lightning shaped mark with his hair.
Harry nodded at Sirius. "Yeah, I received it the same night when I was a baby." He figured the best case was to stick as close to the truth as possible.
"Figured as much. I recognized it as dark magic as soon as you sat down, but I didn't want to judge too harshly yet. Thank Merlin I didn't," the Black laughed, thinking of the tragedy behind the boy's early life.
"How did you know what it came from?" Harry asked curiously; he always had people speculating about the mark, but never had someone immediately possessed any certainty like Sirius had. Harry couldn't even remember the older version of the man ever saying as much.
"Well, I'm a Black, you see. We make dark magic our literal family business. I was trained to notice the effects of dark magic and what it does to people," Sirius said with a lack of tone.
His face was solemn, as if he was remembering something unpleasant.
Sirius withdrew his wand and traced a rune on the windowsill. Harry saw the rune was one that distorted images - with a tap of a wand Sirius made the world outside fade behind the fogged glass. With another tap, the Scottish highlands returned to their vision.
Thinking on the man's words about his family's generality for the Dark Arts, Harry noted that it may have been why Bellatrix's face had taken such an interest in his features when he held her at wand point in Knockturn Alley all those weeks ago. She was a Black, just like Sirius, so it was entirely possible she could spot dark magic scars and potentially interpret them easier than even her cousin could.
Soon the conversation moved on from Harry's parentage and his scar, as the Marauders began regaling him with stories of their exploits while at Hogwarts, attempting to impress and humor the new seventh year.
However, the laughs from their compartment had attracted attention. The door suddenly slid open to reveal Bellatrix Black staring towards the back of the compartment, like a Roc eyeballing her prey.
She stood in the entryway, clad in a black dress, corset, and arm sleeves embroidered with constellations that went up to her mid-arm. Her hair was pulled tightly into a bun on top of her head, but curls of night still framed her face.
The witch had been stalking nearly every carriage, looking for the wizard who had saved her sister in Knockturn Alley. Bellatrix hadn't forgotten the slight fear she felt being held in his captivity.
Sirius exploded in a fury at her entrance. "YOU! What the fuck are you doing here, you black-hearted bitch?" Sirius snarled, drawing his wand on his cousin. He pointed the offending piece of wood in Bellatrix's face, just below her nose.
The witch didn't outwardly react, though, to the threat on her person, instead adopting an air of indifference which unsettled many in the carriage. Inside, however, the woman was seething at the audacity of her cousin.
"Sit down, you traitorous mutt," Bellatrix hissed with a hint of anger crawling up from the back of her throat. Sirius stiffened at the threat, his eyes sharpening at the witch.
"I'm not the fucking trai—"
Bellatrix cut the family outcast off mid-sentence. "I'm not here for you or any of your lot, cousin." Bellatrix spat the familial phrase with loathing. "I'm here for Evans back there," she said, gesturing with a wave of her hand at the new wizard in the compartment, sitting in the corner.
Harry simply stared at Bellatrix emotionlessly. 'What the bloody hell — what could she possibly want with me?' he thought.
"And what would he have to do or say with a slimy cut-throat snake like you – cousin?" Sirius sneered with equal hatred, not backing down.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at her cousin's tone. "Careful now, mutt — if this lot only knew better, that'd be quite the string of compliments you've given me," Bellatrix pushed Sirius's wand away from his face, earning a growl for her audacity. "Besides, he isn't sorted yet… perhaps I'm just here to meet a future housemate of mine? Regardless, though, I have business with him," Bellatrix proclaimed.
James, Lily, and Remus watched on warily, each one subtly waiting for Sirius to explode, each ready to rein their friend back away from his despised cousin.
"Sirius, mate, it's alright — I can handle her," Harry said, standing up. He pushed Sirius back into his seat next to Remus, from which he had leapt up.
"Wait! Harry, you don't know what you're dealing with! She's practically fucking barmy! Bellatrix is as demented and twisted as any of those lot," Sirius claimed. The Black outcast hoped the wizard he had just met would hear some sense, but it appeared not to have penetrated into Evans' thick skull.
Harry shook his head at Sirius.
"I've had the privilege of meeting her before. She knows better than to cast an unwarranted spell my way. Isn't that right, Bella?" Harry prodded with a grin, goading the witch a little. Perhaps it wasn't his brightest idea to poke the wild cat that was Bellatrix Black, but Harry had been accosted and survived maulings by some of the worst the magical world had to offer.
Besides, Harry knew he had thrown the girl off balance in their last duel. It wasn't everyday anyone managed to get one over the witch, so throwing salt in her wound was an experience he was basking in. Yet, Harry also knew that was a one time event with Bellatrix. She was not the kind of witch to be taken by the same surprise a second time — at least, her future self wasn't, by any means.
"Quite right, Evans," Bellatrix conceded with a smile on her darkened lips. "But don't you fret, you'll deserve the next curse I launch at the back of your head. I assure you," Bellatrix flirted easily enough, but her eyes showcased her annoyance at Harry for subtly alleging he had got the better of her.
She had an image to maintain, especially in front of her traitorous cousin and his squad of goons. Bellatrix turned away and beckoned Harry to follow with the wave of her hand, as if she was signaling a dog to obey.
Harry sighed, but allowed the petty witch her small self-conceived victory. "I'll be right back," Harry nodded to everyone before following Bellatrix out of the compartment.
Sirius looked at James in a pleading. "Get the cloak, mate, we're following them. She's going to poison him or just torture the poor sod, I swear," Sirius accused.
James shook his head at his life-long friend. "Sirius – let's wait a minute, eh? Let's give Harry a chance here. I say we see what the new guy is made out of." James suggested, looking at his friends and new girlfriend.
Sirius reclined back against Remus, who simply looked down at his friend questioningly.
"Stupid git — bitch — hope he curses her if she tries a damn thing," Sirius grumbled under his breath, causing everyone watching to shake their heads at his antics.
Bellatrix felt like she was slowly walking across the thin tautness of a tightrope, edged nerves coursing through her as she led Harry to an empty compartment; She had scared the occupants out of its walls earlier.
The pair entered the compartment and stood facing one another, neither wanting to take the risk of exposing their back nor be seen as weak by sitting down in front of the other.
Bellatrix had thought of everything she had wanted to ask the boy over the last few weeks, but now that the moment had arrived, she drew blank thoughts on how to approach anything subtly with the wizard.
Bellatrix stood there,just watching Harry Evans for a second that seemed to last forever between the pair awkwardly. Bellatrix for why she was feeling the nerves she was, and Harry for being cooped up with a person he only knew as an enemy.
"So, what's this about, Black?" Harry asked, opting to use her surname to distance himself from the witch. The images of her madder, older self and the vibrant girl in front of him clashed like two wildly contrasting colors.
"I don't like leaving things unsettled, Evans," Bellatrix started, choosing her words carefully. "You saved my sister, and nearly murdered me in the process. I'd like some answers as to why," Bellatrix requested, returning the favor of name choice.
"I didn't nearly murder you. You wouldn't have gone down like that," Harry said. He had always pictured Bellatrix Lestrange taking a whole army down with her as if destined to go down in a blaze of gore and glory.
"Oh? And you'd happen to know how I would go down, then?" Bellatrix asked, with a raised eyebrow, intentionally hinting at the double entendre that Harry had unwittingly put forth. The witch took some inner glee at stumbling Evans, watching him sputter and blush.
"Not — I—I didn't mean it like that!" Harry scolded the witch, trying to maintain his decorum. "Look… you spooked me was all, and I just had a lot of adrenaline going through me. So when you lifted the curse, I chose fight instead of flight. It wasn't personal," Harry lied.
'It was personal — you killed my godfather you psychotic fanatic," Harry thought, as he fought against his body's every response to curse Bellatrix, to take advantage of the moment of weakness he was in with her.
'He's lying, he can barely stand my presence, even now. He's barely holding it together,' Bellatrix summarized, looking at the hints all around her, from Harry's eyes to his posture; even to the fist he was making which showcased a few faint white scars across his knuckles.
"Yet you could stomach my little sister's wand near your body, but not my own? I know we had just fought a little, but an it was a bit of an extreme reaction, no?" Bellatrix asked, poking Harry once more with a sharp rod, intending to gain a reaction out of him.
"She's nicer than you," Harry said simply, glowering at the girl and wondering what the hell was up with all the questions.
'She's after something — but what?' Harry thought. The Bellatrix he knew wouldn't approach anyone for small talk, not even if it was a form of torture upon them, like it was him. Harry had to remind himself though that this was not the Bellatrix he once knew — not yet at least.
"Look, Black — I don't need a reason to give Lestrange a beating, any day of the week, for that matter. He had it coming, and I'd like to think we are of the same mind on that matter. So let's cut the bullshit with one another, Black," Harry growled, growing tired of the woman.
"Your wand and magic," Bellatrix said simply.
Harry was taken aback, shock clear on his face. He had not expected that line of questioning to occur.
"My wand and magic?" he repeated stupidly with wide eyes, though after a moment they narrowed in suspicion. After his visit to Bulgaria to purchase a second wand, Harry had decided on not sharing the gorgon-wand's explanation with another soul.
No one could know of the twin cores. It was a shield and a crutch that he had to manage. If Voldemort learned of it, then he would seek the Elder Wand out sooner than he did in the last time. Harry didn't need the powerful Hallow to fall into the Dark Lord's hands a second time.
Bellatrix studied the wizard in front of her. "You were able to cast lethal magic, and even some of a dark variety. So you've been able to study dark magic. Your wand bears the markings of such," Bellatrix informed Harry of her pondering.
Harry pulled out his wand and studied the magical medium in his hand. He could feel the cold aura of dark magic exuding from the wood's blackened tip, but there was also the gaze of the gorgon eye. The feeling of the abyss looking back at him was omnipresent. Even Bellatrix could feel its dead gaze too, despite being a few feet away. Harry covered the eye with his hand and the aura lifted from the room as if a tense musical note had ended its vibration through the air.
"No wand should do that…" Bellatrix said quietly, shaking away the crawling feeling she felt hovering over her skin. The witch took a deep breath before continuing her inquisition on the wizard.
"You can do dark magic… so, are you affiliated with any pureblood family, then?" Bellatrix asked, wondering just what Harry's origins were.
Harry shook his head, sliding his wand up his sleeve back into its holster.
Bellatrix breathed through her nose, trying to cover up her sigh. 'So he wasn't there for Andy… she was right. Nor is he potentially a blood traitor, then,' the daughter of Black thought.
"No, I'm not. Nor would I want to be," Harry said. Oddly enough, Harry could have sworn he saw Bellatrix relax slightly. "Why are you so blatantly asking me all of this?" Harry asked, wondering just how a Slytherin like her could be so — un-cunning.
"I looked you up. I wanted to know if you would be willing to lie in front of me again," Bellatrix said with sharpened eyes staring at Harry, looking for any slight tell that he was withholding information.
Harry simply nodded his head, accepting the answer, until Bellatrix's words sunk in. "Wait – hold up! You looked me up? And what do you mean, again?" Harry asked, offended, and questioning what the witch had caught him lying about in their first meeting. His mind played through their initial meeting, Harry was sure he hadn't given anything away… 'I need to be very careful what I say around her — who knows what she might know,' Harry thought with a dread setting in his stomach.
"You… researched… me?" Harry asked slowly. He was uncomfortable at the idea of someone like Bellatrix or any Black asking questions about him. It was already bad enough that he was effectively the second lord of the family and usurped their heirs.
Harry was especially wary of a witch like Bellatrix learning absolutely anything about him.
"Yes, and a fat lot of good it did me, too — you're practically a ghost. All I got was an angry goblin in my face, and a hushed up Ollivander," Bellatrix grumbled, crossing her arms. "I know you visited Gringotts and bought a wand later. Which isn't the corrupted one, because Ollivander would have never sold you — that fucking thing," Bellatrix nudged her head towards Harry's sleeve still trying not to show how disturbed she was by the dark wand; but, as much as she was wary of it, she was curious as to why a wizard like Harry even possessed such a thing.
What Bellatrix said about the old wand maker interested Harry. While the goblin had been paid off, so to speak, what would have kept Ollivander from talking about his purchase? 'Something is afoot there,' Harry wondered.
"I'm just a man who likes his privacy. You won't find much about me, Black," Harry replied diplomatically. Harry opted to just be seemingly disinteresting.
He didn't want to threaten Bellatrix off the chase; it wouldn't work. Doing something like that would only be sending up a flare to the witch that she was nearing information she sought. Harry suspected the witch would give a bloodhound a run for its money in sniffing out inconsistencies and potential threats.
"And your wand?" Bellatrix asked, pointing at the wood that was holstered on his arm. "What have you done to corrupt it, or did you receive it that way? That thing has been practically tortured into performing dark magic…" the witch said eerily. Bellatrix unveiled her own wand making Harry stiffen at the action.
Immediately, Bellatrix watched him warily, wondering if they were about to have a repeat performance of their meeting. Harry forcibly relaxed his body and cooled his features, but inside he was ready to physically overpower the witch if need be. He wasn't sure if he could magically, but Harry had almost a foot on the girl in height, and more mass.
His body was fit from the Horcrux Hunt in '97 and '98, but he had only just begun to retrain himself physically.
"It's corrupted. It happens to every wand naturally over time, but some wands need to be forced to perform the magic. Birch wands are this way, and so are wands with unicorn hair. They'll have it worse — the damage it wreaks upon them quickens the corruptive decay almost tenfold," Bellatrix explained the nature of his wand by holding up her own wand in front of Harry for his inspection.
Harry could see the slight black marks blemishing the already naturally dark wood. It was as if her wand had freckles.
"I didn't corrupt it, if that's what you're asking. Nor am I affiliated with any of the darker pureblood families, once again – I'm not practicing dark magic in my free time," Harry claimed innocence, but his scarred fist was held tight once more. "I simply bought it after it chose me. That's all," he said with a growl.
Bellatrix noted the now obvious body-tell for when he was lying to her.
"I'm just curious as to how a wizard like you came to have a wand as such. Wand relationships are quite interesting, don't you think, Evans?"
"Like all our wands — it just chose me, is all," Harry restated once more, firmly and not elaborating on his answer, his tone snappish. Harry's whole body was tense, no longer appreciating Bellatrix's interrogation by any means.
He didn't understand her motive. What was she trying to do? Get to know him? Learn his secrets? Scout the potential threat he was? The Bellatrix that he knew was devoted to the Pureblood movement and to Voldemort on an absurd level. She didn't do small talk, and while she didn't know his origins; Harry knew Bellatrix would rather cut her own tongue off than speak a civil word to a half-blood like him.
However, the tension in his shoulders finally reached breaking point before Bellatrix could ask the next question upon her lips.
"Look, Black — I don't know what you're looking for, or expecting from me, but stop!" Harry exclaimed, his agitation pouring off him waves.
Bellatrix stopped herself and simply watched him, quietly waiting for Harry to finish.
"I only saved your sister because it was the right thing to do… I'm not a dark wizard, nor do I perform dark magic. I'm not even a pureblood, for crying out loud!" Harry shouted at the raven-haired girl, restating the claim once more.
However, the flinch that he was expecting from Bellatrix at his final confession never came. She simply watched him, albeit a little darkly at having exploded in her face.
"I wasn't expecting anything from you — not for any of that. You saved my sister from Lestrange in a way, even if I finished that fight for you; that puts me in your debt –" Bellatrix started, shuddering at the idea of being beholden to anyone.
"Don't," Harry insisted, interrupting the girl quickly. "You nor your sister owe me and I don't wish for you to be in my debt – in any way," he stressed firmly.
While holding the girl to her supposed debt would be a large benefit to Harry, he didn't want anything to do with the eldest Black sister. The image of the older and more crazed Bellatrix still rested behind his eyes most nights.
Bellatrix saw the wizard standing before her, who had been emotionally closing himself off throughout their conversation, finally fully erect whatever walls he had been building. Nodding her head, Bellatrix turned around and made for the door, but not before the entrance to the carriage compartment opened itself behind her.
Six boys, already dressed in their Slytherin robes, blocked the doorway. Each one held a sneer or grin for the two they held cornered in the train compartment.
"Bella! My darling, what a ravishing sight you are…" Rodolphus grinned as he stepped into the small carriage towards the witch.
"Rodolphus, what the fuck are you and your ilk doing here?" Bellatrix asked sternly. Her posture was straight as her demeanor shifted into the pure blood princess she had been raised as. As a Black, she was above all others, especially within her own house where such standing was celebrated and respected.
"Well, my brother here saw the upstart who stepped between him and his betrothed-to-be — at least before he swore off her for touching a muggle. I imagine that won't sit well at the next family dinner when word gets out, hmm?" Rodolphus asked, his gaze shifting to Harry next. "So, you're the bastard who assaulted my brother behind his back a few weeks ago," Rodolphus Lestrange sneered. Next to him stood his brother Rabastan, Harold Flint, Josephius Avery, Brutus Mulicber, and, tucked in a corner behind all the others, nearly missed by Harry, was Severus Snape.
However, Snape seemed not to care for the shakedown that they had come to give Harry. He simply looked off to the side, unbothered. For once in Harry's existence, Snape wasn't invested in his torment.
"I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find, but if it took six of you looking, then I'm glad you went through that trouble," Harry said sarcastically. "Next time I'll actually try to hide, and we can make a game out of it?" he mocked.
Seven future Death Eaters in a carriage with Harry Potter — it felt like the beginning of a bad joke to him.
The tension could be felt hanging from a chord across the train's carriage. Harry felt the reassurance of the gorgon wand within his sleeve, his holly wand safely tucked in its holster along his leg. He slipped the latter into his hand, hidden in his robe.
"What's your fucking name, you cunt? I want to know exactly whose grave I'll be pissing on this year," Rodolphus growled. He was a curt man, with the beginnings of the beard that Harry had seen his older self with.
The Lestrange Brothers both dressed the pureblood part, with fine robes hanging over their bodies; the Slytherin crest embroidered into the dark material.
Rodolphus' wand was resting casually in his hand now. When the man had pulled the magical medium out, Harry hadn't noticed.
"My name is Evans, if you must know. Now, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone," Harry said tersely, his green eyes sharpening on the figures before him. He had fought every one of them at one point or another during the war. He wasn't afraid of their schoolboy selves, but he was wary of their current numbers.
Bellatrix too had pulled her wand out, standing alongside Harry. He looked over at her with surprise on his face, 'Why is she standing up to them? I know she isn't keen to be betrothed to him, but they're allies, aren't they?' Harry thought in confusion.
"Standing up for this fool, Bella? Didn't peg you to be a blood traitor," Avery sneered, but was soon silenced by Bellatrix's wand leveled at his face, her eyes ablaze at the insult.
"Not – another – word. Call me that one more time, Avery, and I'll paint over your family tree with your blood. We'll see how pure it really is, eh?" Bellatrix snarled, incensed to a degree of maddening anger that Harry had yet to see on her youthful face. She radiated the same aura now that she had in several battles against the Order.
Harry held his breath, waiting for the explosion of magic that he knew a crazed Bellatrix would release. His ears were already filling with her cackling, mad laugh of glee at wielding flames like Fiendfyre or holding innocents under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Ever call me that again, and I'll leave you for the trolley-maid to sweep up," the witch hissed, pushing her wand forward. Harry's hand twitched at the girl's sudden change of demeanor, almost instinctively drawing his wand on her, but Rodolphus mistook his intentions.
With a snap just as fast as Bellatrix's, Rodolphus had his wand drawn on Harry.
Taking the initiative and advantage of their close quarters, Harry quickly closed the distance between him and Rodolphus. He revealed his own gorgon wand, pressing its blackened tip hard against the Lestrange twin's neck. Neither could cast without significantly damaging themselves and those around them now.
Immediately, Mulicber, Flint, and Rabastan had their wands bearing down on Harry and Bellatrix. Snape kept his wand holstered and took a step back from his comrades, opting not to get involved in this confrontation.
Harry and Bellatrix could feel the weight of their situation at once. They had their backs to the wall, outnumbered and in disadvantageous surroundings.
"Try it. Come on, Lestrange," Harry growled, leaning closer to the man's ear. "What does a little Death Eater like you got up your sleeve?" Harry whispered in an aggressive, low tone, like a wolf snarling at its dinner. His eyes flicked to the man's left sleeve, intentionally letting him in on his knowledge.
The air got tenser at Harry's words, barely overheard by the few close to Rodolphus.
However, Bellatrix was none the wiser. "The broad daylight approach fellas…" Bellatrix mocked, clicking her tongue in a tsking sound. "You lot wouldn't know subtle even if it stuck a wand up your noses," she cooed at hers and Harry's adversaries.
The witch was just as skilled at goading her opponents as she was taking them down. Her wand hand never solicited even as much as a subtle twitch as her mouth broke into a grin.
Everyone waited for the first spell to be cast. However, none came to life.
"Oi, you lot! Break it up! Or you'll be in detention before you even attend class," Lily Evans shouted at the group, making her way through the train.
She was followed closely by James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black, each one subtly toying with their wands, ready to step in at a moment's notice and support their friend and new acquaintance in Harry.
However, the time-traveler was unmoving in his grip on Lestrange's collar. He wouldn't be the first to blink in front of any Death Eater. Not again. His green eyes drilled a hole through Rodolphus' own.
Soon, sneers and laughs had sounded at Lily's requests. Finally, a realization hit one of the Slytherin boys on the head.
Turning his head at the sound of the red head's voice, Avery asked Harry, "Evans? Are you related to this mudblood?" keeping his wand trained on Bellatrix but straining his neck to look at the newcomers in the carriage hallway.
Immediately, the three Gryffindor boys brought their wands up with a fury written across their faces. Snape flinched at the slur leaving his fellow housemate's mouth.
"If I was, would that be such a bad thing?" Harry said angrily at the boy who had unknowingly insulted his mother.
"You're a dirty fucking mudblood too then, ain't ya?" Rodolphus jibed, grinning at the boy who still had him by wand point at the throat and hoping to goad him into attacking first.
Harry didn't take the bait Rodolphus dangled before him.
"Harry, let him go. I can't let a full on magical brawl break out on the way to Hogwarts," Lily said, her tone stern with the authority of her newly granted position.
"Hell, sounds like the best way to start the school year if you ask me," Sirius chuckled, his eyebrows dancing in mirth. Even James cracked a smile at his friend.
"I still have to pay you lot back for earlier — what was the deal with preventing us from patrolling the Slytherin carriages, anyway?" James asked, his eyes boring into the boys who had tried to draw their wands on him earlier.
Harry pulled his wand from Lestrange's throat and shoved it into his chest instead. Harry focused on his magic as he quickly placed a rune that glowed a low light and disappeared. No one but Bellatrix noticed; the witch only tilted her head at the sight, her eyes widening in amazement at the efficiency with which it was performed.
"Any other day, Lestrange… any other day," Harry promised the future Death Eater, pushing him back into the bodies of his companions, who caught the stumbling boy.
The Slytherins cursed Harry with their gazes, barring Snape. However, the odds were even against them now, and they weren't willing to take on two people like Bellatrix or Sirius Black, who, as Blacks, had learned to duel since the moment they could effectively walk.
"You watch your fucking step, Evans. You won't always have your Gryffindor friends or attack bitch to help you out," Rabastan spat at him and Bellatrix.
It seemed the man had taken his beating in the alley extremely hard. However, Harry could see the warm glow of his hand which had been cursed. He had unfortunately not lost the limb to Bellatrix that day.
"I'll fucking carve your tongue out of your head Rabbie. Perhaps I should send it to Andromeda for a present this Yule?" Bellatrix said with a smirk, tapping her wand against her chin. Her eyes had adopted a crazed look in them once again.
Harry kept his eyes firmly away from her, not able to stomach the resemblance once more.
Flint, Avery and Mulicber held the Lestranges back as they pulled them out from the compartment and hallway. Severus Snape followed closely behind them. The entire time during the exchange, the young man's eyes never left the intertwined hands of Lily Evans and James Potter.
Bellatrix turned to Harry but stopped her train of thought at the glare the boy was now leveling at her.
"Really, Evans, you need to stop sending me those death glares every time I assist you against a snake. You'll send the wrong signals to a girl," Bellatrix flirted with a grin, trying to be off-putting and not show the slight hesitation that she felt when those green eyes stared through her once more.
"Save him from a couple of snakes before then, have you? I find that hard to fucking believe," Sirius barked, his wand now pointed at her with the departure of the other Death Eaters.
Bellatrix glared at her relative, but didn't make a move against him as she had done to Avery. He was still her blood, and that was important. She couldn't stand the sight of the family traitor, but she would not harm him.
"He saved Andy from a compromising situation with Rabastan Lestrange in Knockturn earlier last month," Bellatrix told her cousin, hoping that would get him to lower his wand.
It had worked, as she planned. Sirius shared a look with Remus and James, all their eyes moving towards Harry.
It was no secret amongst them that Sirius and Andy were in contact despite his excommunication from the family. The two cared deeply for one another, as they felt like outliers in the House of Black.
Harry's hard stare soon turned into one of indifference rather than its previous venom. He had too many questions rolling around in his head about the girl's strange actions.
Why did she stand against her housemates? Harry knew that was tantamount to political suicide in Slytherin. He had seen it before in a few of the Snakes of his own timeline.
"You're welcome for me having your back again, Evans," Bellatrix said flatly, crossing her arms.
'What is this guy's problem with me?' the Slytherin witch thought. First he's murderous, then self-righteously angry, and now indifferent? Evans was running out of emotions to use upon her.
Alongside Harry's glare, though, she could feel the hard looks from Sirius and his friends, barring the scarred boy in drab clothing.
"Ok, ok, I'll go. I can see that being a snake too myself, I'm not wanted. And Sirius, oh cousin dear, please write to Andy when you get the chance," Bellatrix requested her cousin, looking over to Harry one last time.
"I'll be seeing you Evans. I'll be most interested in your sorting; prove me right, why don't you?" she added.
With a twirl on one heel, Bellatrix turned and departed to her own carriage with Andy and her beau, Ted. Harry Evans indeed had an impressive character about him in a few ways. She was curious about his ambitions, though — his wand spoke of dark ones, but the boy seemed to be a bit too moral yet. He hadn't even singed Lestrange's robes with any ambient magic when he had him at wand point.
Bellatrix hadn't missed the rune he had placed on Rodolphus, though; while she hadn't seen the mark to discern its purpose, the rune had definitely glowed with magic before disappearing entirely onto her housemate.
After Bellatrix departed from their company, Harry looked down at his wand before placing it back in his robes. The entire time, Sirius's eyes were watching him.
Lily dragged all the boys back to their compartment of meeting, sitting down next to James with a huff.
"Who the hell does she think she is?" the redhead grumbled.
"The princess of Slytherin," Sirius said, rolling his eyes, leaning back against Remus who simply looked down at this friend, attempting to push him off. Sirius' face held a dark look, as if agitated and angry.
"Well, she did just hold a student at wand point without getting into any trouble – that's sort of princess behavior," James said sheepishly, ignoring the fact that everyone in the carriage had done exactly the same thing.
They had all been worried about Harry being alone with someone of Bellatrix's reputation. They had heard several rumors over the years of people who had got on the wrong side of her for one reason or another.
Lily and Sirius had about damn near dragged them all to find him when they had come across the two in a stand-off of sorts with some of the darker-natured Slytherins in their year. James had felt the need to step in with Lily as Head Boy, but he also wanted to see the kind of man Evans was. The Potter wasn't disappointed in what he saw.
The Head Boy in question had started to play with a snitch he had stashed in his pocket for lulling moments like these. The small golden ball would zoom around the cabin before it came too close to its owner, who quickly snatched the quidditch ball from the air, only to be released again when he opened his palm.
Sirius, however, held a sober face as he looked over at Harry sporadically, who was back in his seat by the window and watching the Scottish countryside pass them by.
"Harry, mate. Though you don't know the kind of person she is, if Bellatrix is interested in you, that means trouble for you. I should know, she's my cousin. The girl is as mad as a Victorian hatter. I wouldn't be surprised if she tortures Bowtruckles for fun. She's absolutely barmy," Sirius warned the new student.
He nodded in agreement with the Black. Harry didn't need to be warned away from Bellatrix;he knew just how crazy the woman could be.
'I watched her kill you in cold blood. She murdered her cousin and gloated about it. She cheered it on and reminded me of it every time I saw her,' Harry thought grimly at his godfather.
He knew just the kind of woman Bellatrix was. He didn't know what her act was currently, but he would never be fooled by the dark witch.
"Alright you lot, get out. I need to get changed into the rest of my robes, and so do the rest of you afterwards. We're almost to the castle," Lily ordered them out of the compartment.
James looked over at Harry and Sirius with a grin, "Nothing like an inter-house spat to make a train ride pass, eh fellas?" he joked as his new girlfriend pushed them all out of the compartment to preserve her dignity.
Earlier & Elsewhere on the Hogwarts Express
Peter Pettigrew was not the bravest there ever was. At this moment, though, he wished he had been a true Gryffindor, standing up for himself before being pulled into a meeting with unsavory characters such as those before him.
Pettigrew was sat in a compartment with Regulus Black, Brutus Mulicber, and Jaxian Parkinson. Despite only being a fourth year, Regulus seemed to hold the silent respect of his older peers in the compartment.
The two latter Slytherins were in their seventh year at Hogwarts, but unlike all their contemporaries, they were not worried about exams.
"You understand what we're asking of you, Pettigrew? Are you sure you can make good on your promise?" Mulicber growled, eyeing the shaking boy in front of him and seeing no value in the Gryffindor.
Brutus wasn't informed of why Nott and Lucius had wished to coerce Pettigrew into turning for them. He had simply only been told to make the short boy comply, and did as he was told.
"Yes … yes. I u-u-under-st-and," the cowardly Gryffindor uncontrollably stuttered. Peter kept his gaze from turning towards Regulus, who simply sat in silence watching the whole affair stoically, as if resigning himself to what was being plotted.
"You'll be happy with what I deliver — I can get it for you without anyone knowing," the rat animagus assured the Slytherins.
Turning to his housemates, Regulus nodded his head in agreement. The young assumed Black heir didn't want to use his estranged brother's friend for his mission or the cause that was the movement he had been sold into, but Pettigrew was too valuable.
Both Mulciber and Parkinson grunted, shaking their heads in disgust, each not voicing their opinions on Regulus' decision out loud but obeying their command to follow his lead for the time being.
It was an essential and unwilling alliance on both their ends. They needed Peter's knowledge of the castle and ability to smuggle information and other items to them.
"You'll have to begin delivering next week then – since you're so confident," Parkinson sneered in contempt. "We're on a tight timeline. Failure is inexcusable – to do so would have the Dark Lord's wrath to come down on all of us," the Slytherin reminded his accomplices and their unwilling partner.
Peter nodded in confirmation, gulping in fear at the threat. "I'll begin immediately – moment we're in the castle. I-I swear."
"You'd better… or else we'll have Lucius or Tiberius visit your mother while she's recovering. It'd be a shame if there was another accident involving your family, Pettigrew," Mulciber threatened.
Peter's eyes widened. He had only seen his mother the other day in St. Mungo's Infirmary and Intensive Care Unit, weeks after the potion supply store she operated had been ransacked and invaded. That same day, Peter had come home to Lucius Malfoy and Tiberius Nott waiting for him.
The pair had made clear their desires for Pettigrew, and the young man had complied — albeit not before attempting to escape. They had threatened more than just his person after his brief stint of bravery.
The tension of the compartment was broken by the voice of the youngest in attendance.
"And what of my estranged brother and your wild friends? Will they be suspicious of you?" Regulus asked, breaking his long silence.
Regulus's dark gray eyes bore into the seventh-year Gryffindor across from him. Despite their difference of age, Regulus was already the height of Pettigrew, but bore the handsome features of his bloodline compared to Peter's rat-like appearance. The young Black looked down on Peter, maintaining the noble façade which had been trained into him since his earliest memories. It unnerved Peter how much Regulus looked like his older brother at that moment.
"N-no, They won't be. They n-ev-never notice me any—more. They'll t-think I'm doing some project for myself — they'd never suspect the information I pass over. They'd never assume I was working with an-any of you. Your v-venture would be safe," Peter stuttered.
"See that they don't Rat. Or else," Regulus said, emphasizing the word for the animagus.
Peter visibly paled, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a cork. 'They know about the forms — how do they all know?'
"Get out of here Pettigrew. Return to your own carriage. We'll be in touch," Regulus said, dismissing the Gryffindor from their presence.
Peter scurried from the compartment quickly, not wanting to stay a moment longer with any of the snakes. Fleeing down the carriages, the cowardly Gryffindor was broken inside. Peter didn't want to betray his friends — but what choice did he have? His mother was in danger. Peter, like many other purebloods in their society, had always been taught that blood was the most important thing…
The Sayre Journal
Chapter 13 - The Magicke of Runes
Runes are an olde and ancient branche of magicke which many believe cannot be expanded upon. That we aſ a ſociety have discovered, transſated, and unearthed every rune known to the worlde.
Theſe are the words of fools who are contente. They do not ſeek to push the boundaryes of magicke becauſe they believe they can existe comfortably within its current walls.
There are those like myſelf who know otherwise, that the cure to the next aylmente is ſimply hidden inside the mind of a witch or wizard and waits to be released into the world through the tip of a wand.
It is ſimply old and outdated writing ſyſtems that we have progreſsed from. However, this is not all. Runes are magicke. They are the words of our magickal language made manifeſt.
To write a rune is to ſpeak a ſpelle. Runes, however, are timed, triggered, and nearly everlaſtinge. There are tombs in this world from the dawne of civilisation, with their runes ſtill actively feedinge the wards they hoste.
Runes can be used for a multitude of ſtudies ſuch as wand lore, curſe breaking, and most definitely enchantment.
Runes can be first categorised by their alphabet of origins. Magickal ſocieties in Northern Europe generally use a Proto-Germanic or Nordic base, while ſocieties around the Mediterranean use ſcripts ſuch as Egyptian Hieroglyphs that the priests formulated or even Minoan Linear A from the wizards of Ancient Crete.
Once memorisation of a runic alphabet hath been completed. It is ſimply up to the imagination of a wizard, what they can produce magickally with the knowledge.
There are few runes which do not tranſend between the various languages. However, there is more variety within the Germanic and Nordic rune ſyſtems. While those of Alkebulan, the Orient, and even further in the Far East would poſſeſs more powerful and ſpecificke runes for their ſyſtems.
A wizard, from then on, will only be limited by the method in which they produce their runes.
Moſt wizards will never advance paſt a runic table in which they carve the rune into a ſtone to enact the magicke. Some will be able to produce the rune through their wandtippe onto the ſurface of what they want to enchante.
Very few will learne the arte of inſcription, writing multiple runes on media ſuch as clay or parchmente. This method can quickly lead to disaſter if the practitioner is not careful with the power that they embed. Runes that are overloaded with magicke become bombs larger than even a muggle gunnepowder engineer could fathom.
If one day thou dost achieve the talent which I have achieved in thy lifetime, then thou canst produce a rune anywhere. I could write a rune in the air with mine wand using the inckantation, 'Flagrate'. When one can use one's owne magicke to stabilise the baſe of the rune itſelf as the medium for its area of effect inſtead of a physical object — then thou hast maſtered this branch of magicke.
The limits to this branch of magicke are few. The only rules that exist are thoſe of the natural worlde, and even they canst be negotiated with if one is ſufficientlie determined.
Many believed that it was my transfiguration and charm work where my danger and power resided but it was within this magical branch that I crafted out the image that so many feared visiting their villages, cities, or kingdoms.
A/N: I've split the chapter I was writing into two smaller halves, but furthermore I've written out the entire plot for Hogwarts at least. Like always, if any of you see any mistakes please let me know and we'll edit them out. It's still a Harry/Bellatrix story - but you folks are in for a long burn — I couldn't make these two get along in a few chapters even if I wanted to.