mickume/harry_potter_tiny · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"No, not really," she said, washing her hands. "I never met her or heard much talk about her."
talk then," Bellatrix pushed. "What did you hear?"
Hermione paused, thinking of what to say. It was the first time Bellatrix had pushed her on any subject. And yet, she wondered herself what it would be like, to be in Bellatrix’s position, not knowing who you were or where you were from.
"I believe she was cruel to you," Hermione responded. "Your Aunt was a hateful woman, and your cousin, Sirius, said they were cut from the same cloth. I’m sorry––"
"Don’t be," Bellatrix responded, looking at her. "You didn’t make her cruel."
"It’s speculative," Hermione offered, but Bellatrix pulled away, heading downstairs with a quiet, forlorn expression.
Had it been cruel to say such a thing? Or was Bellatrix owed the truth? Hermione didn’t know, but she assumed that her words hurt the witch.
Throughout dinner, Bellatrix was quiet. Her Mum raised her brow once or twice, and Hermione shook her head each time.
When they went to bed, Hermione checked in on her the last time, watching as the witch curled up in her box seat, wand at her side as she fingered through the books. "Night," Hermione said.
"Night," Bellatrix murmured in response.
The following day, they got up early. Hermione packed their lunches with some water and took out the itinerary she’d drafted up the night before.
"You girls off then?" Her mother asked. "Have you got coins for the phone?"
"I do, and we’ve got our wands too, so you don’t have to worry," Hermione said, coming to kiss her cheek.
"Well, be safe, the both of you," Her father said, "Don’t hesitate to call––Bella, did you have our number? Did Hermione explain how the phones work?"
"Yes, Mr Granger," Bella said, though Hermione’s explanation had left Bellatrix likely more confused than anything else. She’d rattled on a bit about how the phones worked, but the principle remained the same. Hold the phone receiver, dial the number, and when someone picked up, you spoke in a calm, even voice as if they were standing before you.
"Have fun at the museum," Her mum said.
"We will," Hermione assured, waving goodbye. She checked her keys were in her bag before closing the door behind her. From the guest window, Hermione could see Crookshanks watching them leave, giving an unimpressed flick of his tail before he stretched and curled up in his favourite spot.
Checking her wristwatch, Hermione confirmed the time. "The bus should be coming in a few minutes from the park," she said. "We’ll catch it to London and from there get the tube to Russel Square and walk from there."
"And then after the exhibition, we’ll go to the other place after the exhibition?" Bellatrix asked.
"We will," she confirmed, "We can practice duelling there."
The bus was surprisingly on schedule. Catching it, Hermione paid their fare and led Bellatrix to where a spare seat was. "I brought us books in case the travel got boring," Hermione said. "I get travel sick, but if you wanted...?"
Bellatrix shook her head. "I’ll be fine," she assured as her eyes looked out, watching the streets pass. Hermione sat quietly, focusing her attention on the front of the bus as she ignored nausea growing in her belly. Bellatrix seemed to keep herself occupied, which allowed Hermione enough chance to follow the stops on the map she planned out. When they came up to their destination, she buzzed the button and waited for the bus to slow before standing up.
"How do you ride a broom if you get so sick?"
"I don’t," Hermione said, feeling nausea tighten her guts at the idea of adding
to the already uncomfortable journey. Stepping off, she thanked the bus driver and looked around. "Over there," she pointed.
"You don’t fly?" Bellatrix asked. "But flying is the best feeling."
"Maybe for you, but I prefer keeping my feet planted on the ground," she said. "I flew on a hippogriff once when I was fourteen, which was far too much for me."
"Are you afraid of heights?"
"Maybe, I––there, down these steps."
"I can help you," Bellatrix said. "With your fear of heights."
Hermione shivered, holding onto the banister as she stepped down into the underground. "It’s fine," she assured. "I don’t
to fly. There are other means of travel."
"Muggle means?" Bellatrix asked with a sneer.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It’s just that it’s...
," she said. "Flying is better. You don’t have to worry about all
," she said, gesturing to the London traffic behind them.
Hermione frowned. "I
"Honestly?" Bellatrix asked, her brow raised.
but I like catching buses and trains. There’s a certain charm to it. We even get a train to Hogwarts!" She said, giving a pointed expression.
Bellatrix didn’t look convinced but continued to follow her down to the Underground nonetheless. She watched with curiosity as Hermione bought them both tickets and showed her where to stand on the platform.
"Muggles are just as varied as witches," Hermione said, pointing to a busker, "See? There are people just as unimpressed as you."
And there, Hermione watched as Bellatrix’s eyes rose to the people in business suits, casting disapproving looks as they made their way into the train carriages. Bellatrix’s expression remained neutral, but Hermione was hoping that somehow, somewhere, she would get through to her. She hoped that the British Museum would help, at the very least.
Hermione led them into the carriage when the train arrived, grabbing a spare seat. Given the summer holidays, the train was pretty busy, with families and teenagers likely having similar plans to Hermione to visit the Museum.
"What’s in this museum?" Bellatrix asked.
"Lots of things. History, art, science. There’s so much to see."
"What’s the exhibition that you want to see?"
"Antiquities," Hermione admitted. As they arrived at the museum, Hermione paid for their tickets to gain entrance to the museum and led them both in. For the first time, Bellatrix’s eyes were wide open and amazed as they entered the space.
As they entered the exhibition, Bellatrix came to a still, looking amongst the amazement of antiquities before them. "Here," Hermione said, pulling her to a glass cabinet that held a clay plot. Starring in awe, Hermione looked over the design.
"Hydra," Bellatrix said.
"Do you know the labours of Herakles?" Hermione asked.
"No, but I know of Hydra’s," Bellatrix said, her eyes unmoving from the pattern. "I think I’ve seen one...before," she whispered, and all at once, Hermione watched as the woman’s eyes disappeared into whatever memory she had. "Or maybe not," she whispered, "Maybe it was a story."
"Let’s look at others," Hermione said. The museum was chilled to keep the antiquities safe as they walked around, admiring the different items in the exhibition. Hermione whispered bits of information that she knew, and sometimes Bellatrix would respond with another piece. They spoke of the Gorgons, of hydras and chimera’s and Pegasus before Hermione paused, staring at a sculpture.
"The rape of Persephone," Bellatrix scoffed.
"Rape used to mean kidnap," Hermione responded. Her eyes stared at the marble statue, following the line of the hand as the marble dress looked as though it would flutter in the breeze. "She looks alive."
"Maybe she is," Bellatrix said. "It’s easier to charm sculptures like this to come alive. When someone has...bled into the artwork."
Hermione looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"To make something come alive, it has to be made by someone who
it to be alive. It’s like the paintings. How do you think those paintings become alive?"
"Magic paint," Hermione said.
"Then any part of it could come to be...no. It comes alive because the artist bleeds life into it. You can make any painting alive, but...they’re hollow until they learn enough from their double. When you have one done of yourself, you must speak to it every night and give it personality."
"What happens if they don’t speak to it? If they just...left it."
"Then the painting never speaks," Bellatrix said. "It’s why charmed sculptures never speak. They only gesture and move like a photograph."
"What if I had a sculpture made and spoke with it?"
"It has to be of
, though. They’re a mirror, they’ll only learn from something that looks like them."
Hermione frowned. "So if I was to take polyjuice potion?"
"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Maybe we should test it out to know."
To that, Hermione laughed. "No, no, I had a terrible experience with it once. I don’t want to ever go through that again."
Bellatrix’s eyes lit up. "You’ve used a polyjuice potion?"
"I made it. In my second year," she responded, rather proud of herself. "But ah...I thought I had grabbed a human hair from someone, but it was actually a cat and...."
Bellatrix nodded. "Polyjuice isn’t meant for animals," she said. "At least the effects wore off."
"It took some coaxing," Hermione admitted. The experience had haunted her. For weeks after the event, she would wake up in bed, terrified the fur had grown back, and her hands would be some malformation of paws instead.
They continued through, looking at the sculptures and then when it was time, they left, catching the train to Central Station, where they switched to a country train. Sitting down in their seat, Hermione pulled out their food, and they ate, watching as the country passed.
Here, at least, Hermione could read though she kept an eye on the stations they passed until they were well and truly out in the countryside. Then, they stepped off into a small town outside of London, and Hermione pulled out another map, leading them out to the woods on the outskirt. While it wasn’t the Forest of Dean her and her parents had been to once, it was a forest known for camping.
"Like we practised," Hermione said, taking out her wand. They cast the look-away and keep-away charms in a large enough circumference to give them room to practice, and then Hermione paused, looking at Bellatrix.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bellatrix asked, "You look nervous."
"I made a promise. You attended the British Museum with me, so now it’s my turn."
Bellatrix nodded. "Shall we do this fairly then? Ten paces and then duel."
"We need ground rules first. We shouldn’t do anything that could hurt each other––we’re too far away from the city. I brought some dittany, but––"
"Relax, we’ll keep to stunning spells and basic jinxes. Nothing you wouldn’t use in a classroom," Bellatrix said. "Now...are you ready?"
Hermione swallowed, nodding as she cleared a pathway for them and drew a line. "Ten paces?"
Bellatrix nodded. They walked to the line and bowed to one another, wands to their side, open and visible before they took their ten paces. Hermione’s heart began to hammer. What if this was all a trick? What if Bellatrix had...what, lured her out here?
It was a ridiculous notion. If Bellatrix had wanted to torture and kill her, she had ample opportunity before now. No, it was only because they were so far from anyone else that the illusion of safety had been crushed.
Swallowing, she drew her wand and went to turn––
" Hermione squeaked. The spell was barely cast in time, bouncing the stunning jinx off, but as quickly as it bounced, Bellatrix threw another, and then another and another. Her tongue slipped over the words, slinging the spells as her feet danced forward, leaving Hermione on the defensive.
Falling backwards, Hermione rolled behind a tree before she leaned out and cast her first spell, which was easily deflected.
"You’re better than that!" Bellatrix cackled. "Come on, play fair."
Hermione swallowed her fear and jumped out, casting, "
" With a cry.
Bellatrix deflected, laughing, "Better, come on," she urged.
Stupefy––Stupefy––Stupe––"
Hermione froze, stunned as a spell deflected into her chest. There, Bellatrix stopped, coming up to look at her. "See? You don’t even need to be on the attack to win. If you know how to deflect, it’s just as easy to win."
With a wave of her wand, the spell disappeared, and Hermione eased a breath, looking at her. "You’re much better at this than me."
, remember. Even if I don’t," Bellatrix teased. "Let’s do it again. Try your hardest this time."
Hermione grumbled, loosening her sore muscles as she manoeuvred into place. "Fine, we’ll try again." They practised over and over. Twice, Hermione managed to get Bellatrix. The first time she yelped, squealing with joy before she stopped to undo it. The second had been a fluke. She’d tripped on a branch and accidentally struck her, but it counted nonetheless...against the ten times Bellatrix had won.
"You’re too good," Hermione said, panting as they stopped to drink water. "I’m not as quick as you."
"Your stance is off," Bellatrix said. "You need to plant your feet wider apart. You also aren’t aware of your surroundings. You should always know what’s behind you and on either side."
It sounded impossible to Hermione, who gave a weary look. And yet, Harry had once told her the same thing. She had a feeling that with the coming war, she would need every moment of practice she could get.
It began to rain as they went home. Pulling out the brolly that she packed, Hermione opened it up so they could both stand underneath it as they waited at the station, though Bellatrix didn’t seem to mind the rain. She stood, uncaring in the shower pouring down.

"No, not really," she said, washing her hands. "I never met her or heard much talk about her."

talk then," Bellatrix pushed. "What did you hear?"

Hermione paused, thinking of what to say. It was the first time Bellatrix had pushed her on any subject. And yet, she wondered herself what it would be like, to be in Bellatrix’s position, not knowing who you were or where you were from.

"I believe she was cruel to you," Hermione responded. "Your Aunt was a hateful woman, and your cousin, Sirius, said they were cut from the same cloth. I’m sorry––"

"Don’t be," Bellatrix responded, looking at her. "You didn’t make her cruel."

"It’s speculative," Hermione offered, but Bellatrix pulled away, heading downstairs with a quiet, forlorn expression.

Had it been cruel to say such a thing? Or was Bellatrix owed the truth? Hermione didn’t know, but she assumed that her words hurt the witch.

Throughout dinner, Bellatrix was quiet. Her Mum raised her brow once or twice, and Hermione shook her head each time.

When they went to bed, Hermione checked in on her the last time, watching as the witch curled up in her box seat, wand at her side as she fingered through the books. "Night," Hermione said.

"Night," Bellatrix murmured in response.

The following day, they got up early. Hermione packed their lunches with some water and took out the itinerary she’d drafted up the night before.

"You girls off then?" Her mother asked. "Have you got coins for the phone?"

"I do, and we’ve got our wands too, so you don’t have to worry," Hermione said, coming to kiss her cheek.

"Well, be safe, the both of you," Her father said, "Don’t hesitate to call––Bella, did you have our number? Did Hermione explain how the phones work?"

"Yes, Mr Granger," Bella said, though Hermione’s explanation had left Bellatrix likely more confused than anything else. She’d rattled on a bit about how the phones worked, but the principle remained the same. Hold the phone receiver, dial the number, and when someone picked up, you spoke in a calm, even voice as if they were standing before you.

"Have fun at the museum," Her mum said.

"We will," Hermione assured, waving goodbye. She checked her keys were in her bag before closing the door behind her. From the guest window, Hermione could see Crookshanks watching them leave, giving an unimpressed flick of his tail before he stretched and curled up in his favourite spot.

Checking her wristwatch, Hermione confirmed the time. "The bus should be coming in a few minutes from the park," she said. "We’ll catch it to London and from there get the tube to Russel Square and walk from there."

"And then after the exhibition, we’ll go to the other place after the exhibition?" Bellatrix asked.

"We will," she confirmed, "We can practice duelling there."

The bus was surprisingly on schedule. Catching it, Hermione paid their fare and led Bellatrix to where a spare seat was. "I brought us books in case the travel got boring," Hermione said. "I get travel sick, but if you wanted...?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "I’ll be fine," she assured as her eyes looked out, watching the streets pass. Hermione sat quietly, focusing her attention on the front of the bus as she ignored nausea growing in her belly. Bellatrix seemed to keep herself occupied, which allowed Hermione enough chance to follow the stops on the map she planned out. When they came up to their destination, she buzzed the button and waited for the bus to slow before standing up.

"How do you ride a broom if you get so sick?"

"I don’t," Hermione said, feeling nausea tighten her guts at the idea of adding

to the already uncomfortable journey. Stepping off, she thanked the bus driver and looked around. "Over there," she pointed.

"You don’t fly?" Bellatrix asked. "But flying is the best feeling."

"Maybe for you, but I prefer keeping my feet planted on the ground," she said. "I flew on a hippogriff once when I was fourteen, which was far too much for me."

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"Maybe, I––there, down these steps."

"I can help you," Bellatrix said. "With your fear of heights."

Hermione shivered, holding onto the banister as she stepped down into the underground. "It’s fine," she assured. "I don’t

to fly. There are other means of travel."

"Muggle means?" Bellatrix asked with a sneer.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It’s just that it’s...

," she said. "Flying is better. You don’t have to worry about all

," she said, gesturing to the London traffic behind them.

Hermione frowned. "I

"Honestly?" Bellatrix asked, her brow raised.

but I like catching buses and trains. There’s a certain charm to it. We even get a train to Hogwarts!" She said, giving a pointed expression.

Bellatrix didn’t look convinced but continued to follow her down to the Underground nonetheless. She watched with curiosity as Hermione bought them both tickets and showed her where to stand on the platform.

"Muggles are just as varied as witches," Hermione said, pointing to a busker, "See? There are people just as unimpressed as you."

And there, Hermione watched as Bellatrix’s eyes rose to the people in business suits, casting disapproving looks as they made their way into the train carriages. Bellatrix’s expression remained neutral, but Hermione was hoping that somehow, somewhere, she would get through to her. She hoped that the British Museum would help, at the very least.

Hermione led them into the carriage when the train arrived, grabbing a spare seat. Given the summer holidays, the train was pretty busy, with families and teenagers likely having similar plans to Hermione to visit the Museum.

"What’s in this museum?" Bellatrix asked.

"Lots of things. History, art, science. There’s so much to see."

"What’s the exhibition that you want to see?"

"Antiquities," Hermione admitted. As they arrived at the museum, Hermione paid for their tickets to gain entrance to the museum and led them both in. For the first time, Bellatrix’s eyes were wide open and amazed as they entered the space.

As they entered the exhibition, Bellatrix came to a still, looking amongst the amazement of antiquities before them. "Here," Hermione said, pulling her to a glass cabinet that held a clay plot. Starring in awe, Hermione looked over the design.

"Hydra," Bellatrix said.

"Do you know the labours of Herakles?" Hermione asked.

"No, but I know of Hydra’s," Bellatrix said, her eyes unmoving from the pattern. "I think I’ve seen one...before," she whispered, and all at once, Hermione watched as the woman’s eyes disappeared into whatever memory she had. "Or maybe not," she whispered, "Maybe it was a story."

"Let’s look at others," Hermione said. The museum was chilled to keep the antiquities safe as they walked around, admiring the different items in the exhibition. Hermione whispered bits of information that she knew, and sometimes Bellatrix would respond with another piece. They spoke of the Gorgons, of hydras and chimera’s and Pegasus before Hermione paused, staring at a sculpture.

"The rape of Persephone," Bellatrix scoffed.

"Rape used to mean kidnap," Hermione responded. Her eyes stared at the marble statue, following the line of the hand as the marble dress looked as though it would flutter in the breeze. "She looks alive."

"Maybe she is," Bellatrix said. "It’s easier to charm sculptures like this to come alive. When someone has...bled into the artwork."

Hermione looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"To make something come alive, it has to be made by someone who

it to be alive. It’s like the paintings. How do you think those paintings become alive?"

"Magic paint," Hermione said.

"Then any part of it could come to be...no. It comes alive because the artist bleeds life into it. You can make any painting alive, but...they’re hollow until they learn enough from their double. When you have one done of yourself, you must speak to it every night and give it personality."

"What happens if they don’t speak to it? If they just...left it."

"Then the painting never speaks," Bellatrix said. "It’s why charmed sculptures never speak. They only gesture and move like a photograph."

"What if I had a sculpture made and spoke with it?"

"It has to be of

, though. They’re a mirror, they’ll only learn from something that looks like them."

Hermione frowned. "So if I was to take polyjuice potion?"

"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Maybe we should test it out to know."

To that, Hermione laughed. "No, no, I had a terrible experience with it once. I don’t want to ever go through that again."

Bellatrix’s eyes lit up. "You’ve used a polyjuice potion?"

"I made it. In my second year," she responded, rather proud of herself. "But ah...I thought I had grabbed a human hair from someone, but it was actually a cat and...."

Bellatrix nodded. "Polyjuice isn’t meant for animals," she said. "At least the effects wore off."

"It took some coaxing," Hermione admitted. The experience had haunted her. For weeks after the event, she would wake up in bed, terrified the fur had grown back, and her hands would be some malformation of paws instead.

They continued through, looking at the sculptures and then when it was time, they left, catching the train to Central Station, where they switched to a country train. Sitting down in their seat, Hermione pulled out their food, and they ate, watching as the country passed.

Here, at least, Hermione could read though she kept an eye on the stations they passed until they were well and truly out in the countryside. Then, they stepped off into a small town outside of London, and Hermione pulled out another map, leading them out to the woods on the outskirt. While it wasn’t the Forest of Dean her and her parents had been to once, it was a forest known for camping.

"Like we practised," Hermione said, taking out her wand. They cast the look-away and keep-away charms in a large enough circumference to give them room to practice, and then Hermione paused, looking at Bellatrix.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bellatrix asked, "You look nervous."

"I made a promise. You attended the British Museum with me, so now it’s my turn."

Bellatrix nodded. "Shall we do this fairly then? Ten paces and then duel."

"We need ground rules first. We shouldn’t do anything that could hurt each other––we’re too far away from the city. I brought some dittany, but––"

"Relax, we’ll keep to stunning spells and basic jinxes. Nothing you wouldn’t use in a classroom," Bellatrix said. "Now...are you ready?"

Hermione swallowed, nodding as she cleared a pathway for them and drew a line. "Ten paces?"

Bellatrix nodded. They walked to the line and bowed to one another, wands to their side, open and visible before they took their ten paces. Hermione’s heart began to hammer. What if this was all a trick? What if Bellatrix had...what, lured her out here?

It was a ridiculous notion. If Bellatrix had wanted to torture and kill her, she had ample opportunity before now. No, it was only because they were so far from anyone else that the illusion of safety had been crushed.

Swallowing, she drew her wand and went to turn––

" Hermione squeaked. The spell was barely cast in time, bouncing the stunning jinx off, but as quickly as it bounced, Bellatrix threw another, and then another and another. Her tongue slipped over the words, slinging the spells as her feet danced forward, leaving Hermione on the defensive.

Falling backwards, Hermione rolled behind a tree before she leaned out and cast her first spell, which was easily deflected.

"You’re better than that!" Bellatrix cackled. "Come on, play fair."

Hermione swallowed her fear and jumped out, casting, "

" With a cry.

Bellatrix deflected, laughing, "Better, come on," she urged.

Stupefy––Stupefy––Stupe––"

Hermione froze, stunned as a spell deflected into her chest. There, Bellatrix stopped, coming up to look at her. "See? You don’t even need to be on the attack to win. If you know how to deflect, it’s just as easy to win."

With a wave of her wand, the spell disappeared, and Hermione eased a breath, looking at her. "You’re much better at this than me."

, remember. Even if I don’t," Bellatrix teased. "Let’s do it again. Try your hardest this time."

Hermione grumbled, loosening her sore muscles as she manoeuvred into place. "Fine, we’ll try again." They practised over and over. Twice, Hermione managed to get Bellatrix. The first time she yelped, squealing with joy before she stopped to undo it. The second had been a fluke. She’d tripped on a branch and accidentally struck her, but it counted nonetheless...against the ten times Bellatrix had won.

"You’re too good," Hermione said, panting as they stopped to drink water. "I’m not as quick as you."

"Your stance is off," Bellatrix said. "You need to plant your feet wider apart. You also aren’t aware of your surroundings. You should always know what’s behind you and on either side."

It sounded impossible to Hermione, who gave a weary look. And yet, Harry had once told her the same thing. She had a feeling that with the coming war, she would need every moment of practice she could get.

It began to rain as they went home. Pulling out the brolly that she packed, Hermione opened it up so they could both stand underneath it as they waited at the station, though Bellatrix didn’t seem to mind the rain. She stood, uncaring in the shower pouring down.