The Diary of Bellatrix Black - June 1968

***1 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Last night was the slug’s last dinner party of the school year. I wore a pink dress that Mother bought for me last time she was in Paris. I let it stay pink this time.

Cissy, Edwina, Andie and I arrived at that golden moment at the beginning of the party when things are in full swing, but we haven’t yet missed out on any interesting conversation. The guest of honor was Alan McLaird’s uncle, Grant McLaird, an esteemed St Mungo’s healer. Since the hospital had so recently received a new potions laboratory, the McLairds and Slughorn spent the entire time talking about potions.

I attached myself to Bridgett McNair and her secret fiancé. Their conversation had always been the least boring at these things, anyway. Guideon seemed ill at ease. At first, I wondered if he was in love with me after all… and then I remembered what Lord Voldemort’s legilimency had revealed to me.

No one has ever been in love with me.

It feels like I’ve spent a lot of this year obsessing about “love.” By the way other girls talk about it, it sounds like I’m in love with Lord Voldemort. Impossible! The Amortentia made me smell grandeur, blood, and caves. Does that mean that Andie is right, and that I’m not even capable of falling in love?

“Bellatrix?” Bridgett was trying to catch my eye. “Dinner is about to be served.”

“Oh, right.”

I sat between Horace Hilliard and Pius Thicknesse. The last time I had even had a conversation with Hilliard, he cried about his breakup with Adelaide MacMillan. This time, his conversation was all about examinations. He grilled me about my revision schedule, gave me unsolicited advice for OWL’s, and repeated, “I can’t believe it’s almost time for my NEWT’s” ad nauseum.

Thicknesse was better company. His mother, Pacifica Thicknesse, is an Unspeakable who works under Mother and Daddy’s friend Jenkins. Thicknesse’s questions and compliments weren’t at all subtle. Still, there’s no saying if and when Madam Thicknesse can be useful to the Blacks, the Rosiers, or their friends. I flirted a little with him.

I don’t know why I never noticed it before: Bridgett and Guideon have been seated together for every Slug Club party. Slughorn obviously knows and approves of the connection.

I ended the evening drinking wine with Bridgett, Guideon, Slughorn, and the McLairds. Then Bridgett and I walked back to the Slytherin dungeon together, arm in arm.

“Are you ready for your NEWT’s?” I asked her.

“I’m ready for exams to be over,” she said. “Yes, I’m confident I’ll pass in the subjects that matter to me. I am just done with Divination, though. Not sure why I bothered to pursue it after I passed the OWL. I knew I’m not a seer.”

“You already know your future, anyway,” I pointed out. “You’re getting married. Did you set a date yet?”

Bridgett laughed. “You talk like getting married is the end of my life! I’ve got decades ahead of me to build my career. I’m heading to Berlin in July, as junior assistant to the British ambassador to the German Ministry of Magic. I’ll be gone two years. So. We’ll wait to get married until I get back.”

“Two years,” I wondered aloud. “I thought you two were mad about each other.”

“We are,” Bridgett said. “I’m head over heels in love, and looking forward to lifelong happiness as a wife, a mother, and a world-traveling ambassador.”

“That’s the spirit!” said a nearby portrait of a witch in a Victorian dress climbing a mountain.

“Thank you,” Bridgett said to her. She asked me, “Do you know what you’ll take for NEWT’s? What you want to do after Hogwarts?”

I already know my calling. I will do everything I can to support Lord Voldemort’s revolution. I will help the Dark Lord subjugate the world’s filth, and assert wizard dominance over all of humanity.

“I haven’t given my career very much thought yet,” I told her. “Professor Slughorn said he could see me do well in Magical Law. I suppose it would be exciting to work as a cursebreaker for Gringott’s Bank, but then I’d have to deal closely with goblins.”

We made it to the door to the Slytherin dungeon. Bridgett gave the password, “Sacred Trust,” and we entered the common room together. “You’ll figure it out,” she said. “Good night, Bellatrix.”

“Good night.”

Before bed, I practiced Occlumency by clearing my mind of all thought. I’ve been having fewer dreams this way, and dwelling much less on that Beltane Rite of Power fantasy.

***2 June 1968, The Sunday Prophet***

EUGENIA JENKINS SWORN IN AS MINISTER FOR MAGIC, by Betty Braithewaite

LONDON: At 9:00 this morning, Eugenia Jenkins took her oath as the Minister for Magic and officially began her service as the head of Magical Britain.

“I’d like to make a long speech, thanking all the witches and wizards who believe in me, and inspiring you all with my vision of our future,” she said after the ceremony. She rolled up her sleeves and added, “But, I’ve got work to do! Excuse me.”

“She’s going to shake things up around here,” asserted Pacifica Thicknesse, Undersecretary to the Chief Unspeakable. “[Jenkins] has plans for staffing changes that will make the Ministry more efficient, and thus, more effective.”

When asked about the rumors that Jenkins hated Minister Leach for his muggle parentage, Thicknesse rolled her eyes theatrically. “I assure you, we can lay those old rumors to rest. Minister Jenkins is here to serve the entire wizarding community. Her work has never shown the least prejudice for or against any blood status.”

When asked if Thicknesse had any personal preference for political leaders who hail from established wizard bloodlines, Thicknesse replied, “I have a preference for leaders who are fair. Minister Jenkins will do a superb job.”

***2 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

I wonder how many galleons Mother and Daddy donated to Jenkins’ campaign after all.

Pacifica Thicknesse sounds like a self-aggrandizing sycophant. So, she may be useful.

After breakfast this morning, I decided to take advantage of the brighter east-facing windows in the library. Sylvia, Millicent, Adrienne and I headed up there with our Astronomy and Potions textbooks to study for our OWL’s. We got a good table by the windows and quizzed each other. Millicent doesn’t have much of a head for rote memorization, but she understands most of the theories all right and will make up for the rest with her practical exams.

About an hour before lunchtime, I noticed Andie and some of her friends come in to do homework together. I decided to share the Jenkins article with her and waved her over. The little brat responded by waving a friendly greeting, and then sitting with her back towards me.

“Be right back,” I said to my friends, grabbing the paper and walking over to her. “Andie, did you see this morning’s headline about—”

“Bella!” Andie scolded. “Did you even notice that you interrupted Teddy? He was in the middle of saying something.”

“Who?”

“Teddy!” Andie repeated. She gestured at one of her friends. “Edward Tonks. My year, Hufflepuff. You have bullied him all year.”

He was a perfectly nondescript boy. “It’s fine, Dromeda,” he said quietly.

“It is not fine,” Andie insisted.

“Knock it off,” I told her. “I’ve never even seen this boy before.”

Andie got a little pink in the face. “You refused him a seat in your carriage at the beginning of the school year. You usurped his table at the Three Broomsticks. You knocked his books off the library table. You tripped him in the hallway. You mocked his haircut. And now you’re interrupting him when he’s talking to me and you’re acting like you don’t even know who he is!”

I looked at her friends, trying to remember which one she meant. One of them was Polyxena Langston, who is also in Slytherin. There was another girl. Of the four boys, one of them was black and one was Patrick Gamp. The remaining two both looked vaguely embarrassed.

“You’re unbelievable,” Andie said.

“Look, I didn’t come over here to pick on third years,” I said. I dropped the newspaper in front of her. “I just wanted to show you things are going well for Daddy and Mother’s friend. You’re welcome.” I walked back to my table, ignoring Andie’s mutters.

“No, really, Dromeda,” the boy said. “She didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t want to make this into a thing.”

Whoever Edward “Teddy” Tonks is, at least he’s got some common sense. Even if he does call Andie by that ugly nickname.

The rest of the day was just spent studying.

***5 June 1968, Letchworth***

Bella,

This one didn’t make it to Wizarding publications. Mitchell’s keeping an eye out for me for notable Muggle headlines near the Bering Sea right now. He clipped this from the Anchorage Daily News, and I thought you’d like to add it to your collection.

Best love to you & the girls, Daddy

***31 May 1968, Anchorage Daily News***

FISHING VESSELS GONE MISSING DESPITE UNUSUALLY CALM SEA, By Bradley Lipshaw

ANCHORAGE: The Coast Guard is on the lookout for six fishing vessels that have gone missing in the past two weeks. The Tweedle Dee, the King’s Bustard, the Alimony, the Patricia II, the Purple Albatross, and the Fortitude each stopped checking in or responding to radio inquiries.

“The Bustard’s last check-in said she was by Scotch Cap Light,” said Glen Starbuck, skipper of the King’s Bustard’s sister ship, the Golden Goose. “She was going for rockfish. She shouldn’t have strayed too far from shore.”

A press release by the Coast Guard claims, “The search has focused so far on the waters between Unalaska and Unimak Islands. We have no reason to suspect foul play in any of the six disappearances.”

The disappearances are particularly surprising, given the unusually calm weather that the Aleutian Islands have enjoyed of late. The area is known for its intense winds, which have seen the calmest May on record.

***5 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Fascinating. Could Lord Voldemort have something to do with the unusual weather, or the mysterious disappearances? It could all be coincidental, of course.

I wonder how long he’ll stay out there. What could possibly attract a wizard of his caliber to such a remote, strange corner of Alaska? Markleton said it’s beautiful out there, but there are beautiful scenes in more habitable places, too.

***7 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Andie has been short with me all week. I checked in with her about how her homework has been going tonight, and she snapped that she didn’t need me to mollycoddle her.

“What has gotten into you?” I demanded. “I’m trying to look out for your well-being. I want you to succeed.”

“No, you want to be connected to people who succeed,” Andie snarled. “Unfortunately for you, I’m your sister, no matter what. We’re connected, and we’ll stay connected, even if I don’t obey your every command.”

This was too much. But, we were in the common room, and people were starting to look over. “Let’s discuss this in your parlor,” I said quietly.

“No!” Andie said. “I don’t care if I made a scene! You’re the one who’s unreasonable!”

“Do you have cramps again?” I kept my voice low. “You know that’s no excuse for rudeness.”

Andie laughed. “I’m rude? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re only polite to other people when you want to use them,” Andie said. “Don’t you think it behooves you to show respect to people? Don’t you think people notice when you’re gracious and generous with well-connected purebloods, but you treat everyone else like trash? Don’t you think it reflects poorly on you, a Prefect, a well-bred pureblood, when you act like your underclassmen don’t even matter?”

I blinked at her. “What are you even talking about?”

“Teddy!” she shouted.

I didn’t remember the name at first.

“Edward Tonks,” Andie clarified. “My year? Friends with Patrick Gamp? Friends with me?”

My gut wrenched unpleasantly. I said, “You’re joking. You’ve got to be. I knew you’d been associating with Gamp, and that’s fine. But Tonks? Andie, he’s…” I paused. Andie’s friends, Cissy’s friends, and numerous other young students were watching. I lowered my voice. “He’s a mudblood.” Louder, I added, “He’s beneath you.”

She slammed her textbook shut and stood up, “This conversation is beneath me,” she said. She stormed off to the third and fourth year girls’ parlor. She probably just cried herself to sleep.

It must be cramps. She’s out of her mind if she really considers someone with two Muggle parents a “friend.” What has such a person got to offer? He’s barely even a wizard.

***11 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Today was the last double Arithmancy before OWL’s. Professor Vector split us into teams of four and had us compete in an Arithmancy trivia game as a playful way to revise. My team and Danielle’s were the two best, probably because I’d helped her so much with studying. It was even kind of fun, “competing” with her for right answers when half the questions reminded us of conversations we had had on the topic. My team won, of course, but hers did come close—all because of me.

Danielle, her friend Mavis, and I all went to the library after class to keep the revision going until suppertime.

“You’re not going to paralyze and threaten us, are you?” Mavis asked me nervously.

“Don’t be stupid,” Danielle told her. “Bellatrix was just being protective of her little sisters. Rita’s the one who overstepped a line.”

“Thank you, Danielle,” I said.

Rita and a few other Gryffindor gossips saw us on the way to the library. Rita dramatically cast Tergeo on her rhinestone-covered glasses. “No, I’m really seeing this. Danielle, what has gotten into you? Just a few weeks ago, you were calling her a greasy hag.” Rita pointed at me.

Danielle hesitated.

I didn’t. “It’s Danielle’s right to choose her own friends. She doesn’t have to settle for a half-wit with no fashion sense if she doesn’t want to.”

Danielle and a few of the other girls giggled. Rita pushed her gaudy glasses up further on her nose, indignant.

“Shall we?” I asked Danielle.

“Definitely.” She led the way to the library, passing an astounded Rita without a second glance.

Cissy was right. Danielle is desperate for a sense of inclusion. It’s a bit pathetic, but not without its uses. Her new hairstyle really does soften the effect of her strong jawline. Also, it turns out that she isn’t completely devoid of worthwhile connections: a friend of her father’s works as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries.

***14 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Last day of classes! OWL’s begin on Monday.

Wikowski told me Appolyon Pringle is retiring at the end of this year. I don’t expect anyone is sad to see him go. Still, it’s a staffing change at Hogwarts. I’m telling Markleton.

***16 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard and his name is Lord Voldemort.

I had a strange encounter with Rita Skeeter this evening.

I had prefect duty with Margaret Spelling, who has about as much personality as dry toast. I tried asking her about her interests, her family, any interesting news from her fellow Gryffindors; I couldn’t pry more than two words out of her at a time. Our conversation died out, and I thought that maybe I’d hex her just to keep myself entertained. But, Spelling wouldn’t be as easy to manipulate as Danielle has been, and I’ve served more than enough time in detention for this year.

We passed by Rita on a seventh floor corridor. I’ve no idea what brought her there—maybe she just needs to look at the Troll Tapestry to feel pretty by comparison.

Rita looked excited when she saw me. I knew that couldn’t be a good sign. She fell in step with us, talking at Spelling for a bit and then trying to chat me up. “Do you ladies feel prepared for OWL’s? I know you’re both very smart. Any idea what you’ll take at the NEWT level?”

I started out with an imitation of Spelling: I brushed Rita off with as few syllables as possible.

Then Rita pushed on with, “Got any exciting plans for summer? Going anywhere interesting? Bellatrix, I know your family is well-traveled.”

I briefly considered Confunding Spelling and Cruciating Rita. But, I have too much at stake. If I’m caught using Unforgivable Curses, I won’t face a life sentence in Azkaban. The Rosiers will get me before the dementors do. Besides, I have to stay at Hogwarts, and stay in good standing, to fulfill my duty to the Dark Lord.

“We’re going to the States,” I told her. “Daddy went with my uncle and cousins to the Wiesensteig witch trial memorial a few months ago. Now we’re all wild to get to Salem.”

“Fascinating!” Rita said. “Are your family’s travels usually educational?”

I shrugged. “If you can go pretty much anywhere you please, you may as well get your sickle’s worth. Will you look at the time? Almost curfew. Margaret and I still have a few more corridors to patrol, but Rita, you really should head back to your common room. We’d have to put you in detention if you were out, after hours.”

Rita considered me for a moment. Her gaudy, rhinestone-covered glasses couldn’t hide the calculating expression.

“Have a nice night,” Rita said. She walked away.

It almost feels like she challenged me to a game of chess. I could have burnt the board and slit her throat. Instead, I watched my pawn run hers through and drag its corpse to the sidelines.

***17 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Madam Marchbanks was my examiner for the practical portion of the Charms OWL. She greeted me politely, as if the one time we’d met before had been no more interesting than waiting in line together in a shop. I did well.

***18 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Got bored during the Transfiguration written exam and started daydreaming. I’m sure I still passed all right, and my practical exam was perfect.

***19 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Herbology OWL was fine. I’ll do Grandfather Rosier proud.

***20 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts written exam was harder than I’d anticipated. I answered the questions about the magical theory behind counter-curses all right, but there was an entire section on “deescalating encounters with dark creatures in the wild.” I’ll have to give Guideon an earful about that. He taught us all about vanquishing ghouls, but nothing about coexisting with one.

Who would want to, anyway?

The practical exam was easy.

***21 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Ancient Runes OWL went all right. Definite Acceptable grade. If I get Exceeds Expectations, I’ll continue to NEWT year.

***24 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Potions OWL was fine.

Andie whined at me again this evening about “being rude” and “bullying” younger students from other houses, just because I gave two little Hufflepuffs detention. It isn’t my fault Inana Savage and Edward Tonks broke school rules. I found them trying to get into the kitchen for extra pudding.

***26 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

No exams or prefect duty for me yesterday. I spent a luxurious morning under a tree by the lake, rereading Ancient Rites. I’d ordered my own copy from Flourish and Blott’s.

Today’s a double exam. Arithmancy went fine. Danielle even thanked me again for being “study buddies” after it was over.

Astronomy written exam went fine this afternoon. The practical is tonight.

***27 June 1968, Hogwarts***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Astronomy practical was perfect. I finished before anyone else, and now I can be done with the subject forever.

Similarly glad to see the back of History of Magic. It’s an interesting topic when I’m reading on my own, but another two years of hearing Professor Binns drone on might have made me use the Killing Curse on myself.

***29 June 1968, Letchworth***

There is a perfect wizard, and his name is Lord Voldemort.

Yesterday was the last day of term. The only remaining OWL was Muggle Studies, so the only people in my year who weren’t free are the ones who don’t matter anyway.

Valeria and I played chess on a blanket in the shade of a tree. Adrienne alternated between exuberant joy at “finally being free of Michael” Bernstein, tears over how he “broke her heart,” and confidence that they would “get back together” soon. Millicent and Sylvia sat nearby, providing the sympathetic ears Adrienne was so desperate for.

Adrienne was mid-sentence about Michael’s “dreamy eyes” when Millicent unexpectedly interrupted her.

“Isn’t that Andromeda?”

We all followed her pointing finger to the sight of a boy and girl walking together, holding hands. The couple were walking away from the castle, towards the Quidditch stands—where I know some students go to snog. I sprang to my feet. Millicent and Sylvia moved to follow.

“I’ve got this,” I said. “Enjoy the weather.”

The couple didn’t notice me as I closed the gap between us; nor did the other person following them. Anger flashed through me when I realized that Rita Skeeter was spying on my little sister. How dare she snoop on the House of Black? Impertinent mudblood!

The couple disappeared beneath the stands, and Rita stepped in, a few yards behind them. I started with Silencio on Rita, then the disarming spell. Her wand flew through the air towards me, and I let it fall unceremoniously to the ground. She whirled at me, balling up a fist.

Is that the fighting Gryffindor spirit? Attempting to punch when you’ve been disarmed? Or is it just that her filthy muggle parents are such uncouth barbarians they’d taught her to resolve her differences like a gorilla?

I used the body bind curse on her. She fell to the dirty ground beneath the stands, silent and unmoving.

I could have done anything. I could have stabbed her with my silver knife, or kicked her in the face. I could have struck her with phantom bites or paranoia. I could have used the Cruciatus.

Instead, I stood over her and said quietly, “This is a new experience for me. I’ve never bothered to give a second warning before. But it’s a nice day. My OWL’s went well, and I’m looking forward to the end of term feast.” I levitated her with my wand, repositioning her magically rigid body to lean against the stands like a wooden board. “I suppose I’m feeling generous. I’ll leave you unscathed today.” I finished with a disillusionment charm on her. “Leave the Blacks and Rosiers alone.”

I left her silenced, disarmed, paralyzed, nearly impossible to see, stashed beneath the Quidditch stands. Then I moved on in the direction I saw Andie and her boyfriend sneak.

They were sitting side by side with their backs to the support structure of the stands. Tension drained out of my shoulders when I realized they weren’t snogging. They were in a rather intimate position, though, with his arm around her waist and her legs curled up so her knees rested on his thigh.

He was reading out loud from a book she held.

This may have been the most unexpected sight I could encounter under the Quidditch stands. For a moment, I wondered if Andie had admired my progress into the Dark Arts so much that she decided to imitate me with extracurricular reading. Then I realized the book was a novel.

“Suddenly his hand met what felt like a tiny ring of cold metal lying on the floor of the tunnel,” the boy read. ”It was a turning point in his career, but he did not know it.”

I circled around quietly, choosing not to disillusion myself. The boy was Patrick Gamp, just as I had suspected.

Gamp continued reading: “He put the ring in his pocket almost without thinking; certainly it did not seem of any particular use at the moment.”

Another step of mine caught Andie’s eye. She startled with a theatrical gasp. “Bella! You frightened me!” She shut the book and rested her hands defensively over the title.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“What are you doing, following me back here?” she demanded. Her face flushed with surprise and annoyance. Gamp had the good grace to look embarrassed, but he kept his arm around Andie.

I pointed at the P badge on my robes. “A prefect who sees two fourteen-year-olds sneak off together under the Quidditch stands ought to follow them.”

“We aren’t doing anything wrong here,” Andie snapped. “We’re just reading.”

“You’re reading a book you want to hide,” I pointed out.

“I’m following your example,” she snapped.

“Accio book,” I cast, but Andie clutched it tightly.

“What’s the fuss about, Dromeda?” Gamp asked gently. “It’s just a book.”

“It’s none of her business what I read, or where I go with which boy,” Andie wailed. “Leave us alone, Bella!”

“Accio book.” It twitched in an attempt to fly to me, but Andie held on tightly.

“No! Go back to your friends, Bella! Didn’t you read that advice Dear Daffodil gave you? Let your younger sisters have their own social lives!”

It was as if a cold, dark wind had seized the beautiful summer day.

I petrified Gamp. I aimed my wand and Andie, but she was already on her feet and ready. She cast, “Expelliarmus!” With a red flash of light, my wand flew in the air, and Andie caught it with a little hop.

I knew she wouldn’t dare to jinx me. I walked right up to her and grabbed her by the ear, twisting it, dragging her down and up with me while I picked up the book that had fallen to the ground.

She squealed with pain. I released her as I looked at the book.

“What’s a ‘hobbit?’” I asked.

“It’s a made up kind of person,” Andie said. Her eyes were glassy with pain and humiliation. “It’s just a story, Bella. It isn’t worth us fighting over.”

“I’ve never heard of J. R. R. Tolkien before,” I commented. “Did you get this from Flourish and Blott’s?” I looked at the publisher name and address, and didn’t recognize any of this.

Andie handed me back my wand. I accepted it, and didn’t prevent her from releasing Gamp from my spell.

“I borrowed it from Teddy,” Gamp said. “Its a good story, but there’s more to it. Tolkien’s a muggle, and he wrote all kinds of wrong things about wizards and goblins in there.”

I dropped the book. It landed neatly on its back. “A muggle book?” I gave Andie a look that showed every ounce of my disdain. “The kind of propaganda they used to justify hanging us and stoning us to death and all that?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Andie pleaded. “It isn’t malicious. It’s just wrong, in a romantic and fantastical kind of way. And if they’re so wrong about us…” She allowed the sentence to die in the air.

I pointed my wand at the book. “Incendio.”

“No!” Gamp dove at the book, trying to smother the flames with his robes, but I kicked him hard in the shoulder and pointed my wand in his face.

The three of us waited, quiet and still, until the fire died out. I kicked the ashes to scatter them, gave Andie a scathing look, and left them to cry over it.

Rita missed the end-of-term feast. The lamb had been roasted to perfection with onion and rosemary. The green beans came in a light garlic butter sauce with slivers of almonds. Pudding was an assortment of fruit tarts; the cherry one was best.

This morning, our compartment on the Hogwarts Express was relatively quiet. The landscape was gray and green as rain pelted the grass. Ganymede rode back to London with Pius Thicknesse and his friends, so she wasn’t with us. Valeria borrowed my copy of Merman Scales and Centaur Hooves and dove into it. Adrienne devoured the latest Witch Weekly with similar zeal, filling out a quiz titled, ”What Kind Of Girlfriend Do You Make?”

Sylvia and Millicent, my loyal henchwomen, stared out the window for most of the morning. Sylvia looked thoughtful. Millicent looked as if she had never had a thought in her life.

We talked a bit more after the lunch trolley came through. Then, there was a polite knock at the door. I waved it open with my wand.

It was Danielle. I wonder if Cissy told her exactly how to style her hair, because the new way she wears it really does soften the squareness of her jaw. I smiled to see her. “Hi.”

“Hi, Bellatrix.” She held out a chocolate frog box. “I wound up buying more than I actually want. Do you like these?”

I accepted it. “That was very thoughtful of you. I generally prefer dark chocolate newts, but I’m touched. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Danielle said. She hesitated. “Have a good summer.”

“You too.”

Danielle closed the compartment door and left.

Adrienne grinned at me. “She has been much less annoying lately.”

I smirked. “Danielle? She’s got potential.”

Sylvia looked confused.

I handed her the chocolate frog. “You like milk chocolate, right?”

Sylvia smiled gently. “Yeah. Thanks.”

We all chatted comfortably for the rest of the ride, mostly about the OWL’s and what subjects we hope to take next year.

Back at King’s Cross Station, Mother greeted Cissy and Andie with affectionate hugs. She clasped my shoulder with a warm, motherly smile, in a flawless display of maternal love and respect. Blinker popped in and out to collect our trunks; she had her baby strapped to her back so that both hands were free to work.

“How did exams go?” Daddy asked.

Andie and Cissy answered. I looked around the platform and noticed that a few of the students left through the barrier between Platform 9¾ and the muggle world unaccompanied by adults. Of course, Rita Skeeter’s parents couldn’t come to our side without help.

“And OWL’s?” Daddy asked me.

I smiled. “It was easy."

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This work of fanfiction was based on characters and settings created by JK Rowling for her Harry Potter series. I'd like to note that my fair use of this popularly known source material does not in any way represent an endorsement of Rowling's harmful public statements against the validity of trans identities. Please consider supporting the Human Rights Campaign at https://www.hrc.org/