mickume/harry_potter_tiny · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"Voldemort?" Bellatrix asked.
Hermione winced but nodded.
"Your friends aren't dead," Bellatrix said.
"You don't know that," Hermione said. "They could be dead already, and we won't know. We wouldn't know until morning, and then who knows what could happen before then." Hermione felt her panic grow, her chest tightening as she imagined the death eaters coming here, breaking in and murdering her parents as they searched the house for––
"Dumbledore has them protected, doesn't he?"
Hermione paused and then nodded. Dumbledore did, at Grimmauld Place, with Sirius and the Order. Grimmauld was impenetrable. Dumbledore had assured that, and Sirius was the rightful heir, so no one, not even Narcissa Malfoy, could enter without express permission now that Kreacher wouldn't be kicked out again.
"Thank you," Hermione said.
Bellatrix nodded, her hand coming to rest over Hermione's. The skin was cool, soothing as Hermione drew in a breath. But as quickly as Bellatrix had squeezed her hand, it was gone, and the woman returned to her bed, bidding her goodnight. Hermione felt the ache of its loss, wishing she dared to ask Bellatrix to stay for a while longer. The past few nights, Bellatrix had woken up with her and made tea before returning to bed. Hermione had become accustomed to the woman's presence, and to have her absence so quickly was...lonely.
Tomorrow they would be at Hogwarts, however. Tomorrow they would be sleeping in the Gryffindor Common Room, and Hermione wouldn't be alone in the girl's dorm anymore.
It wasn't that she didn't get along with the other girls, but that outside of Ginny, who was in the year below, she didn't connect with the other girls in the same way. Even with Ginny, it felt different.
There was something about Bellatrix that made Hermione feel like she was speaking with someone who understood her. More than Harry and Ron and Ginny. Someone who actually saw what she saw.
It wasn't like what George had inferred in the joke shop. Bellatrix was a good friend, and Hermione had grown used to being around her.
Shifting in the bed, she turned away, staring into the dark. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. She knew her own feelings on the matter. She knew who she liked, where her...romantic feelings may be, and what she felt for Bellatrix was what most girls think when they find a friend that gets them.
Hermione slept through the rest of the night without issue. In the morning, they packed the car, ate breakfast and left for Platform 9 3/4, where her parents gave a teary goodbye, wishing her well. Before Bellatrix could escape, Jean Granger had pulled her into a tight hug and told her to write should she need someone to speak to.
Bellatrix had stood, standing still as if she'd been stupefied before she gave a noncommittal noise. And then they were exiting through the brick wall, onto the platform.
It was bustling on the train, and Hermione was determined to ensure that Bellatrix didn't sit alone. She knew Harry wouldn't be suitable, who would likely sit with Neville, Luna and Ginny, but she was doubtful of where else Bellatrix should sit.
"You have to attend to your duties, don't you?" Bellatrix asked as Hermione stood in the train corridor, trying to think of someone she could sit with. She supposed that Bellatrix could sit with Patil twins and Lavender Brown, but their attitude may end up aggravating Bellatrix. If it went the wrong way, she was uncertain what would occur.
"How about––? "
"I'm not a child you need to place into someone's care," Bellatrix advised, her tone firm. "I will make my own friends and meet you on the platform at the other end if I don't see you sooner."
Hermione drew in a breath before nodding, agreeing. "I'm sorry. I only wanted you to have a good trip while I went to the prefects" cabin."
"Sweet of you. Now go, I'll find my way."
Hermione sighed, leaving her to be as she entered the prefect cabin. There, Ron sat apart from her, his face gloomy even as she took her seat to listen to Alistair Reynolds and Moira O'Riley, the Head Boy and Girl this year, lay out the meeting minutes.
"Where's Harry sitting?" Hermione asked quietly to Ron.
"Dunno, probably with Neville and Luna," he said before seeming to remember that he was cross with her. Folding his arms, he leant back and feigned interest in the meeting—which even Hermione found a bit dry.
Once it was done, Hermione ran patrols with Ron, managing to wrangle some attention from him. "I wanted to say thank you," she said. "For trying to rescue me."
"Thought you and her were best mates now," he said, shooting her a sharp look.
"It was still nice that my friends would come and rescue me. How was your Summer?"
"Boring," he said, "Mum's still got us cleaning Grimmauld. Kreacher did nothing, so it's almost as worse as when we first started there."
As Ron softened, Hermione smiled, feeling the knot in her stomach ease. Maybe, all things going well, everything was going to be okay, she thought. But that feeling didn't last. Soon, Ron was talking about how funny Harry had been over the summer since going to Diagon Alley—how they saw Draco threatening Bourkin in his store while they were there.
"Harry thinks he's a..." she trailed off, raising her brows, and Ron nodded.
"He's dead certain. I've never seen him like this, "Mione. Even I think it's a bit mental. Loads of wizards go to Bourkins––not just dark ones. With his dad in Azkaban, it's more likely they were pawning stuff off before the ministry raided them again. It's where I'd go if I wanted to get rid of stuff."
Hermione agreed. There may be some merits if it were someone else, someone older, but what use would Voldemort have with a student? Not only would Dumbledore know immediately, but all the professors were there to keep the school safe. Even Crouch had only managed to get away with as much as he did because people believed him to be Moody.
"Maybe Draco is acting as a spy," Hermione offered. "But what information would he pull? The teachers would all be suspicious of him, and even if he began acting friendly with us, it's not like we'd say anything."
"Hardly see him able to act through that permanent sneer on his face," Ron muttered. "Look, I've said it all to Harry, but he's adamant. I wanted you to know."
"Thank you," she said, smiling at Ron. For a moment, she looked at him and felt herself take a breath. Ron was safe. Ron was a good friend.
Ron took a step as if going to reach for her hand on the busy carriage. Turning away from him, she pretended to ignore him, shifting her hair out from behind her ear. "We should keep an eye on the hall," she managed to say, directing him back to their job.
When it came for them to return, Ron invited her back to the carriage where Harry likely was. "Maybe you can talk some reason into him, hey?"
"I should check on...Bella," Hermione admitted. "But you both can come and find me?"
Ron grimaced. "Thanks, but no thanks, but come and find us when you've done checking in on the mass murderer."
Hermione's shoulders dropped. "Of course," she said. "Because why should we ever offer someone a second chance."
"She's not some girl who used to pull pigtails, Hermione. You wouldn't be offering your hand out for Pansy Parkinson, would you?"
Hermione grimaced, looking away. "If she was sincere, I would."
Ron scoffed. "Come off it, you loathe Parkinson as much as Harry loathes Malfoy."
Hermione didn't believe it was as severe as that, but she understood where Ron was coming from. "I would still try not to cut her off. But if you're going to be so stubborn, then fine. I'll see you at Hogwarts."
She turned on her heel and left to look for Bellatrix.
In the end, it didn't take her long. Bellatrix had been up, sitting in the middle of the train reading. The carriage was empty as Hermione stepped in, sighing.
"Prefect duties got on your nerves?"
"They were fine," Hermione said. "Ron and Harry are still...upset."
Bellatrix looked up from her book and raised her brow. "That's their problem." In a sense, Hermione believed that, but it wasn't so easy. She didn't want to lose Ron and Harry to Bellatrix. And she suspected Ginny would be much the same pigheadedness as her older brother, if not more so.
Though...Ginny wasn't supposed to know, and there was a chance Ron had kept that from her. So who knew?
"Any duelling happening in the carriages?"
"No, it was pretty quiet. There's a tension since...last year."
"Since Voldemort rose?"
Hermione flinched at the name but nodded. Unlike last year, Hermione wasn't able to know as much as before, given that she was no longer overhearing the Order, but she knew things were happening from the Daily Prophet, like the destruction of the bridge. Voldemort was becoming bolder, and the Wizarding World was holding its breath.
"From what I understood, you and your friends dealt quite the blow against him and his followers," Bellatrix said.
"Do you feel anything when you talk about him?" Hermione asked. "Is there some...familiarity?"
Bellatrix paused, considering the words before she shrugged. "It feels like talking about any politics," she said. "It doesn't feel familiar. I don't flinch at his name like you do. But I don't seem the type of scaring easily."
Hermione scowled at the comment. "When I met you, before you. Harry spoke His name, and you were furious by it. Like it was sacred, and Harry dirtied it by saying it."
"It's just a name to me now," Bellatrix said. "No more sacred than that Muggle god you sometimes refer to. Maybe I just wanted to frighten Harry. One man couldn't infer such worship."
"I don't know if that's true," Hermione said, looking out the window, watching as the dark sky showed glimpses of the landscape. "I wonder if those memories are just...gone."
"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Or one day it could all snap back, and then who would I be?"
A question that Hermione feared. She hoped the memories never came back because she liked this Bellatrix. The old one enjoyed torturing people's parents into insanity, and if she made a reappearance, then Hermione would be jumping ship. "There's Hogwarts," Hermione said. "We should get everything ready."
When the train finally arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione helped the first years to find Professor McGonagall.
"Is Hagrid not here?"
"Occupied," McGonagall said with a smile. "Now, first years, this way."
Bellatrix came to stand beside Hermione, looking at where Professor McGonagall stood. "Shall I be expected to follow the first years?"
"No. Dumbledore said you would follow us. You're not going through the sorting ceremony."
Hermione didn't see Ron or Harry as they headed to the carriages, but she presumed the boys would be catching it together.
The carriage they caught was with a few seventh years students who looked to Bellatrix curiously but otherwise continued their conversation, unconcerned towards the two of them. Hermione sat still in her seat, watching as Bellatrix leaned against the side of the carriage, watching as the landscape passed.
"Does it seem different?" Hermione asked. "From what you expected?"
"No," Bellatrix said. "It's exactly as I thought it would be. Even the thestrals."
"Can you see them?" Hermione asked. A few of the older students paused, turning to listen to the conversation.
"Does it matter?" Bellatrix asked. "Whether or not I can see them, I still would know they're there. What other creature would drive the carriage?"
To that, Hermione sat uncomfortable, looking away. Hogwarts: A History had not mentioned the thestrals, so when Harry had brought it up last year, Hermione had no idea what he was speaking of last year. She still couldn't see them, and there was something strange about not knowing what they looked like. Not entirely. She'd seen drawings of them, and something was horrifying about them...like they belonged to the Four Horseman.
"What a weirdo," one of the boys in the carriage scoffed. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at the boy, but whatever glowering attempt she was going on was lost on him. Hermione didn't know the boy enough to remember his name, but she could see from his robes that he was a seventh-year Ravenclaw. The boy only gave a laugh to the girl sitting beside him. "Where are you from, then? America?"
"Who are you?" Bellatrix asked, turning back the question.
"Noel Fletcher."
"No one of interest, then," Bellatrix said before looking away. A murmur broke out, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably as the pieces of conversation she heard. A statement like that was "pureblood coded', and while it would get some recognition with the Slytherins, it was a mixed reaction with everyone in the carriage, given that half would likely have at least one muggle in their close family.
A sinking feeling twisted at Hermione's stomach throughout the carriage ride. When they climbed out, separating from the other students, Hermione asked, "Is that how you really feel? That he's a no one of interest because of his name."
"It holds no meaning behind it," Bellatrix stated. "He doesn't come from a family of worth."
"That you know of, and why should it matter if he did!"
"Why does it matter to you? He was some halfwit trying to impress that blonde next to him."
"Because I, apparently, am no one of interest."
Bellatrix paused, looking at Hermione. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've plenty proven yourself to be interesting."
Hermione felt the anger growing. "My magical ability, my intelligence? Is that the only thing that's made me worthy? And what if I didn't have that!"
"I don't know," Bellatrix seethed. "Fucking Merlin, are you so insecure about how much I care about your blood status? You're a good witch, isn't that enough?"
Hermione felt the conflicting emotions arise before she shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said, though it did. "We should go to the feast."
Bellatrix gave a look that seemed thankful that Hermione was dropping it, and a new flare of anger rose up before Hermione bit her tongue, ignoring the prick in her eyes. Whoever Bellatrix was, whatever made up the core parts of her mind after the bell jar, there was clearly some pureblood ideology persisting there.
And Hermione was determined to eradicate it, no matter what it took.
As they entered the Hall, Hermione watched as Filch ran over every student with what looked to be Secret Sensors. Hermione suspected they'd come from the Ministry of Magic and watched as the line to enter the Hall took even longer.
Bellatrix shifted impatient next to her, sighing as she crossed her arms. "You'd think they'd get more and do this faster if it was so necessary."
"They're hard to come by," Hermione said. "I think the Ministry only has a few. I imagine they're using the only set the Ministry could part with."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the response. Hermione turned away, avoiding the witch's eye as she listened to Filch warn the students that if anyone even thought about getting someone to owl any forbidden products, to be aware that all owls would be checked. Hermione passed a look to some Slytherin students who began quickly muttering amongst themselves as to what a dark object would be considered and if the puking pastries they got to get out of class would be considered. "They won't," Hermione said, "But I would be careful using them in class. Most professors know a real illness from a fake one, and if you're caught using them, you will lose your house points." She gave a stern look and watched as the students huddled in on themselves, glaring at her as they continued to mutter again quieter this time.
Bellatrix gave a soft laugh beside her, and Hermione almost forgot her anger as the woman cast her an impressed look.
As the feast began, Hermione noted that Harry wasn't present. She'd seen Ginny, who'd given a curious look at her, but was too busy talking with Alexandra Spinnet, a Gryffindor girl in the same year as Ginny. When she spotted Ron sitting with Dean and Seamus, he'd caught her eye and gave a half-shrug. Harry might have been doing something else with Dumbledore, but it was strange that Ron didn't at least know where he was.
As it was, it didn't take long to get an answer. When the Great Hall doors opened again during the feast, Harry entered with what appeared to be a broken nose. Hermione tried to speak to him as he walked past, but his mood soured, his eyes focused on the seat next to Ron.
Hermione felt her mood deflate further as she picked at her food. Bellatrix hadn't been talkative, and although multiple Gryffindors had attempted to make contact, the witch had quietly brushed them off, keeping her attention on the food she was carefully eating.
Until Bellatrix asked, "Who's that wizard," as she pointed to Snape.
"Professor Snape. He teaches potions."

"Voldemort?" Bellatrix asked.

Hermione winced but nodded.

"Your friends aren't dead," Bellatrix said.

"You don't know that," Hermione said. "They could be dead already, and we won't know. We wouldn't know until morning, and then who knows what could happen before then." Hermione felt her panic grow, her chest tightening as she imagined the death eaters coming here, breaking in and murdering her parents as they searched the house for––

"Dumbledore has them protected, doesn't he?"

Hermione paused and then nodded. Dumbledore did, at Grimmauld Place, with Sirius and the Order. Grimmauld was impenetrable. Dumbledore had assured that, and Sirius was the rightful heir, so no one, not even Narcissa Malfoy, could enter without express permission now that Kreacher wouldn't be kicked out again.

"Thank you," Hermione said.

Bellatrix nodded, her hand coming to rest over Hermione's. The skin was cool, soothing as Hermione drew in a breath. But as quickly as Bellatrix had squeezed her hand, it was gone, and the woman returned to her bed, bidding her goodnight. Hermione felt the ache of its loss, wishing she dared to ask Bellatrix to stay for a while longer. The past few nights, Bellatrix had woken up with her and made tea before returning to bed. Hermione had become accustomed to the woman's presence, and to have her absence so quickly was...lonely.

Tomorrow they would be at Hogwarts, however. Tomorrow they would be sleeping in the Gryffindor Common Room, and Hermione wouldn't be alone in the girl's dorm anymore.

It wasn't that she didn't get along with the other girls, but that outside of Ginny, who was in the year below, she didn't connect with the other girls in the same way. Even with Ginny, it felt different.

There was something about Bellatrix that made Hermione feel like she was speaking with someone who understood her. More than Harry and Ron and Ginny. Someone who actually saw what she saw.

It wasn't like what George had inferred in the joke shop. Bellatrix was a good friend, and Hermione had grown used to being around her.

Shifting in the bed, she turned away, staring into the dark. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. She knew her own feelings on the matter. She knew who she liked, where her...romantic feelings may be, and what she felt for Bellatrix was what most girls think when they find a friend that gets them.

Hermione slept through the rest of the night without issue. In the morning, they packed the car, ate breakfast and left for Platform 9 3/4, where her parents gave a teary goodbye, wishing her well. Before Bellatrix could escape, Jean Granger had pulled her into a tight hug and told her to write should she need someone to speak to.

Bellatrix had stood, standing still as if she'd been stupefied before she gave a noncommittal noise. And then they were exiting through the brick wall, onto the platform.

It was bustling on the train, and Hermione was determined to ensure that Bellatrix didn't sit alone. She knew Harry wouldn't be suitable, who would likely sit with Neville, Luna and Ginny, but she was doubtful of where else Bellatrix should sit.

"You have to attend to your duties, don't you?" Bellatrix asked as Hermione stood in the train corridor, trying to think of someone she could sit with. She supposed that Bellatrix could sit with Patil twins and Lavender Brown, but their attitude may end up aggravating Bellatrix. If it went the wrong way, she was uncertain what would occur.

"How about––? "

"I'm not a child you need to place into someone's care," Bellatrix advised, her tone firm. "I will make my own friends and meet you on the platform at the other end if I don't see you sooner."

Hermione drew in a breath before nodding, agreeing. "I'm sorry. I only wanted you to have a good trip while I went to the prefects" cabin."

"Sweet of you. Now go, I'll find my way."

Hermione sighed, leaving her to be as she entered the prefect cabin. There, Ron sat apart from her, his face gloomy even as she took her seat to listen to Alistair Reynolds and Moira O'Riley, the Head Boy and Girl this year, lay out the meeting minutes.

"Where's Harry sitting?" Hermione asked quietly to Ron.

"Dunno, probably with Neville and Luna," he said before seeming to remember that he was cross with her. Folding his arms, he leant back and feigned interest in the meeting—which even Hermione found a bit dry.

Once it was done, Hermione ran patrols with Ron, managing to wrangle some attention from him. "I wanted to say thank you," she said. "For trying to rescue me."

"Thought you and her were best mates now," he said, shooting her a sharp look.

"It was still nice that my friends would come and rescue me. How was your Summer?"

"Boring," he said, "Mum's still got us cleaning Grimmauld. Kreacher did nothing, so it's almost as worse as when we first started there."

As Ron softened, Hermione smiled, feeling the knot in her stomach ease. Maybe, all things going well, everything was going to be okay, she thought. But that feeling didn't last. Soon, Ron was talking about how funny Harry had been over the summer since going to Diagon Alley—how they saw Draco threatening Bourkin in his store while they were there.

"Harry thinks he's a..." she trailed off, raising her brows, and Ron nodded.

"He's dead certain. I've never seen him like this, "Mione. Even I think it's a bit mental. Loads of wizards go to Bourkins––not just dark ones. With his dad in Azkaban, it's more likely they were pawning stuff off before the ministry raided them again. It's where I'd go if I wanted to get rid of stuff."

Hermione agreed. There may be some merits if it were someone else, someone older, but what use would Voldemort have with a student? Not only would Dumbledore know immediately, but all the professors were there to keep the school safe. Even Crouch had only managed to get away with as much as he did because people believed him to be Moody.

"Maybe Draco is acting as a spy," Hermione offered. "But what information would he pull? The teachers would all be suspicious of him, and even if he began acting friendly with us, it's not like we'd say anything."

"Hardly see him able to act through that permanent sneer on his face," Ron muttered. "Look, I've said it all to Harry, but he's adamant. I wanted you to know."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at Ron. For a moment, she looked at him and felt herself take a breath. Ron was safe. Ron was a good friend.

Ron took a step as if going to reach for her hand on the busy carriage. Turning away from him, she pretended to ignore him, shifting her hair out from behind her ear. "We should keep an eye on the hall," she managed to say, directing him back to their job.

When it came for them to return, Ron invited her back to the carriage where Harry likely was. "Maybe you can talk some reason into him, hey?"

"I should check on...Bella," Hermione admitted. "But you both can come and find me?"

Ron grimaced. "Thanks, but no thanks, but come and find us when you've done checking in on the mass murderer."

Hermione's shoulders dropped. "Of course," she said. "Because why should we ever offer someone a second chance."

"She's not some girl who used to pull pigtails, Hermione. You wouldn't be offering your hand out for Pansy Parkinson, would you?"

Hermione grimaced, looking away. "If she was sincere, I would."

Ron scoffed. "Come off it, you loathe Parkinson as much as Harry loathes Malfoy."

Hermione didn't believe it was as severe as that, but she understood where Ron was coming from. "I would still try not to cut her off. But if you're going to be so stubborn, then fine. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

She turned on her heel and left to look for Bellatrix.

In the end, it didn't take her long. Bellatrix had been up, sitting in the middle of the train reading. The carriage was empty as Hermione stepped in, sighing.

"Prefect duties got on your nerves?"

"They were fine," Hermione said. "Ron and Harry are still...upset."

Bellatrix looked up from her book and raised her brow. "That's their problem." In a sense, Hermione believed that, but it wasn't so easy. She didn't want to lose Ron and Harry to Bellatrix. And she suspected Ginny would be much the same pigheadedness as her older brother, if not more so.

Though...Ginny wasn't supposed to know, and there was a chance Ron had kept that from her. So who knew?

"Any duelling happening in the carriages?"

"No, it was pretty quiet. There's a tension since...last year."

"Since Voldemort rose?"

Hermione flinched at the name but nodded. Unlike last year, Hermione wasn't able to know as much as before, given that she was no longer overhearing the Order, but she knew things were happening from the Daily Prophet, like the destruction of the bridge. Voldemort was becoming bolder, and the Wizarding World was holding its breath.

"From what I understood, you and your friends dealt quite the blow against him and his followers," Bellatrix said.

"Do you feel anything when you talk about him?" Hermione asked. "Is there some...familiarity?"

Bellatrix paused, considering the words before she shrugged. "It feels like talking about any politics," she said. "It doesn't feel familiar. I don't flinch at his name like you do. But I don't seem the type of scaring easily."

Hermione scowled at the comment. "When I met you, before you. Harry spoke His name, and you were furious by it. Like it was sacred, and Harry dirtied it by saying it."

"It's just a name to me now," Bellatrix said. "No more sacred than that Muggle god you sometimes refer to. Maybe I just wanted to frighten Harry. One man couldn't infer such worship."

"I don't know if that's true," Hermione said, looking out the window, watching as the dark sky showed glimpses of the landscape. "I wonder if those memories are just...gone."

"Maybe," Bellatrix said. "Or one day it could all snap back, and then who would I be?"

A question that Hermione feared. She hoped the memories never came back because she liked this Bellatrix. The old one enjoyed torturing people's parents into insanity, and if she made a reappearance, then Hermione would be jumping ship. "There's Hogwarts," Hermione said. "We should get everything ready."

When the train finally arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione helped the first years to find Professor McGonagall.

"Is Hagrid not here?"

"Occupied," McGonagall said with a smile. "Now, first years, this way."

Bellatrix came to stand beside Hermione, looking at where Professor McGonagall stood. "Shall I be expected to follow the first years?"

"No. Dumbledore said you would follow us. You're not going through the sorting ceremony."

Hermione didn't see Ron or Harry as they headed to the carriages, but she presumed the boys would be catching it together.

The carriage they caught was with a few seventh years students who looked to Bellatrix curiously but otherwise continued their conversation, unconcerned towards the two of them. Hermione sat still in her seat, watching as Bellatrix leaned against the side of the carriage, watching as the landscape passed.

"Does it seem different?" Hermione asked. "From what you expected?"

"No," Bellatrix said. "It's exactly as I thought it would be. Even the thestrals."

"Can you see them?" Hermione asked. A few of the older students paused, turning to listen to the conversation.

"Does it matter?" Bellatrix asked. "Whether or not I can see them, I still would know they're there. What other creature would drive the carriage?"

To that, Hermione sat uncomfortable, looking away. Hogwarts: A History had not mentioned the thestrals, so when Harry had brought it up last year, Hermione had no idea what he was speaking of last year. She still couldn't see them, and there was something strange about not knowing what they looked like. Not entirely. She'd seen drawings of them, and something was horrifying about them...like they belonged to the Four Horseman.

"What a weirdo," one of the boys in the carriage scoffed. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at the boy, but whatever glowering attempt she was going on was lost on him. Hermione didn't know the boy enough to remember his name, but she could see from his robes that he was a seventh-year Ravenclaw. The boy only gave a laugh to the girl sitting beside him. "Where are you from, then? America?"

"Who are you?" Bellatrix asked, turning back the question.

"Noel Fletcher."

"No one of interest, then," Bellatrix said before looking away. A murmur broke out, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably as the pieces of conversation she heard. A statement like that was "pureblood coded', and while it would get some recognition with the Slytherins, it was a mixed reaction with everyone in the carriage, given that half would likely have at least one muggle in their close family.

A sinking feeling twisted at Hermione's stomach throughout the carriage ride. When they climbed out, separating from the other students, Hermione asked, "Is that how you really feel? That he's a no one of interest because of his name."

"It holds no meaning behind it," Bellatrix stated. "He doesn't come from a family of worth."

"That you know of, and why should it matter if he did!"

"Why does it matter to you? He was some halfwit trying to impress that blonde next to him."

"Because I, apparently, am no one of interest."

Bellatrix paused, looking at Hermione. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've plenty proven yourself to be interesting."

Hermione felt the anger growing. "My magical ability, my intelligence? Is that the only thing that's made me worthy? And what if I didn't have that!"

"I don't know," Bellatrix seethed. "Fucking Merlin, are you so insecure about how much I care about your blood status? You're a good witch, isn't that enough?"

Hermione felt the conflicting emotions arise before she shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said, though it did. "We should go to the feast."

Bellatrix gave a look that seemed thankful that Hermione was dropping it, and a new flare of anger rose up before Hermione bit her tongue, ignoring the prick in her eyes. Whoever Bellatrix was, whatever made up the core parts of her mind after the bell jar, there was clearly some pureblood ideology persisting there.

And Hermione was determined to eradicate it, no matter what it took.

As they entered the Hall, Hermione watched as Filch ran over every student with what looked to be Secret Sensors. Hermione suspected they'd come from the Ministry of Magic and watched as the line to enter the Hall took even longer.

Bellatrix shifted impatient next to her, sighing as she crossed her arms. "You'd think they'd get more and do this faster if it was so necessary."

"They're hard to come by," Hermione said. "I think the Ministry only has a few. I imagine they're using the only set the Ministry could part with."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the response. Hermione turned away, avoiding the witch's eye as she listened to Filch warn the students that if anyone even thought about getting someone to owl any forbidden products, to be aware that all owls would be checked. Hermione passed a look to some Slytherin students who began quickly muttering amongst themselves as to what a dark object would be considered and if the puking pastries they got to get out of class would be considered. "They won't," Hermione said, "But I would be careful using them in class. Most professors know a real illness from a fake one, and if you're caught using them, you will lose your house points." She gave a stern look and watched as the students huddled in on themselves, glaring at her as they continued to mutter again quieter this time.

Bellatrix gave a soft laugh beside her, and Hermione almost forgot her anger as the woman cast her an impressed look.

As the feast began, Hermione noted that Harry wasn't present. She'd seen Ginny, who'd given a curious look at her, but was too busy talking with Alexandra Spinnet, a Gryffindor girl in the same year as Ginny. When she spotted Ron sitting with Dean and Seamus, he'd caught her eye and gave a half-shrug. Harry might have been doing something else with Dumbledore, but it was strange that Ron didn't at least know where he was.

As it was, it didn't take long to get an answer. When the Great Hall doors opened again during the feast, Harry entered with what appeared to be a broken nose. Hermione tried to speak to him as he walked past, but his mood soured, his eyes focused on the seat next to Ron.

Hermione felt her mood deflate further as she picked at her food. Bellatrix hadn't been talkative, and although multiple Gryffindors had attempted to make contact, the witch had quietly brushed them off, keeping her attention on the food she was carefully eating.

Until Bellatrix asked, "Who's that wizard," as she pointed to Snape.

"Professor Snape. He teaches potions."