The Diary of Bellatrix Black - October 1967

***1 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Clear skies for Cissy’s birthday, but cold. Mother sent a care package for all of us, with presents for Cissy—a silver comb, brush, and hand mirror set. Very fitting, for her long, lovely straight hair. Daddy’s present was a single budding rose, which, when touched, suddenly bloomed and revealed a set of pearl earrings. I got her a copy of Cosmetic Potioneering: Fifty Five Recipes for Your Natural Beauty by Portia Helens.

And Andie gave her a handmade card, then scampered off to Quidditch practice. That girl really ought to think long and hard about her priorities. Your baby sister only turns twelve once!

***2 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Skies still clear. I wish they would cloud over with the worst thunderstorm in history, and strike Albus Dumbledore down with a bolt of lightning. Though I suppose a natural disaster like that might not be sufficient. What could destroy the impudent wizard who defeated Grindelwald in a duel?

I wish I knew.

In Transfiguration today, Dumbledore had us break into pairs and practice cross-species switches again to “refresh our memories.” I claimed Valeria for my partner, and I could swear that any time Dumbledore wasn’t guiding another student, he was staring at me. I’m never comfortable with his piercing gaze. It’s impertinent. Grandfather Rosier says that Dumbledore’s father had the proper pro-wizard sentiments… So how is it that Dumbledore is so encouraging of mudbloods and so rude to me?

***6 October 1967, Hogwarts***

This may have been the worst week of my life.

I wrote my last entry Monday between classes and supper. After supper, the slug asked me to accompany him to the Headmaster’s office. I knew something was the matter because Slughorn didn’t compliment me once, and hardly even smiled.

Professor Dippet is still in the habit of setting famous witch and wizard names for his passwords. When Slughorn said, “Bathilda Bagshot,” the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office slid aside and revealed the moving staircase. Up the stairs and in the office, I found wispy-haired, older-than-dirt Professor Dippet in conversation with Dumbledore, Wikowski, the matron Madam Pomfrey, and the grandmotherly librarian Madam Shafiq. Dumbledore continued his impertinent stare, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

“Professor Dippet,” Slughorn started, “I really don’t think this is necessary. I’ve known Miss Black all her life, and very well indeed for the last four years. For goodness’ sake, I recommended her for the role of Prefect! I’ve never had any cause to question her integrity.”

I assumed a confused, slightly sad expression.

Dippet’s voice was weaker and more breathy than ever before. “I appreciate you vouching for her character, Horace,” he said. “Of course, I must listen to all sides of the story.”

I directed my confused pout at Wikowski. He gave me a reassuring smile and shook his head, just a little.

Dumbledore never took his eyes off me. “Miss Bagman claims that the humiliating events of last Tuesday were the result of Miss Black cursing her. Miss Black cast the cheering charm, jelly-legs jinx, and a third curse, which caused Miss Bagman to feel extreme pressure in her lower abdomen and release the contents of her bladder.”

“The Incontinence Jinx,” Madam Shafiq said gently. “It appears in three books in our collection. Two are in the Restricted Section, to which Miss Black has never been granted entry. The third has been on loan to the Durmstrang library since the second of September.” She pursed her lips with uncharacteristic severity. “It is overdue.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore added in his falsely reasonable tone, “There are any other number of ways a student can learn a spell.”

“Of course,” Dippet agreed wheezily, “But nonverbal spellwork begins after OWL’s, and I believe Miss Black does not take those until June?”

“Correct,” Slughorn said.

“That is why I invited Professor Wikowski to join us,” Dumbledore said. “I noticed that Miss Black spent several evenings last week in his office, but as I had not been informed of her receiving detention, I decided to ask about it.”

Wikowski flashed a disarming smile. “I know how this may look,” he said. “Miss Black did request additional tutelage. She wanted to put some work towards nonverbal spells a year early. But, there are no usual or malicious motives here. With your permission, Miss Black?”

I had no idea what direction he was going to take this. But he had already established his loyalty to my family, and he’s half in love with me too. He was asking me to trust him. I cast my eyes down demurely and nodded.

“Miss Black wanted to impress a boy,” Wikowski said.

It’s a good thing I was looking away. My initial reaction was a red hot flash of rage. Bellatrix Black, trying to impress a boy? Ridiculous. If they don’t see my worth, they don’t have any of their own. But, I kept myself in check. This could be a convenient lie.

“I didn’t ask who, but I gather he is an older student. And as Miss Black is a studious young lady, it made sense to me that her courtship would include displaying how academically precocious she is.”

“Aww.” I chanced a glance up; it was Madam Shafiq, who rested her hand over her heart.

Madam Pomfrey’s expression was more skeptical.

“Sadly, it appears that other motives do exist,” Dumbledore said.

I furrowed my brow. Confusion and hurt feelings seemed like the right display.

“I have observed a social rivalry between Miss Black and Miss Bagman over the past few years,” Dumbledore explained. “These things do happen. I’m sure every educator in this room has seen them in every year.”

Slughorn shook his head. “I can’t say I’ve noticed any such thing,” he said.

Honestly, I doubt the slug has noticed Danielle Bagman much beyond grading her potions classwork. Her connections are unimportant and her spellwork, mediocre at best.

“Miss Bagman was jinxed,” Madam Pomfrey said firmly. “I know a spell when I see it. The Incontinence Jinx was cast on her twice; once at midday, and again in the late afternoon.”

“While both Miss Bagman and Miss Black were in Arithmancy,” Dumbledore added smugly.

I locked my expression. Confusion. Hurt feelings. I refused to display that sinking feeling in my gut.

Professor Dippet nodded solemnly. “Professor Wikowski, Madam Pomfrey, Madam Shafiq: I thank you for your input,” he said. Madam Pomfrey left without further ado. Madam Shafiq gave me a confidential wink on her way out. Wikowski nodded companionably to Slughorn as he left.

Now it was just me, the Headmaster, my Head of House, and Danielle’s.

“You have a choice to make, young lady,” Professor Dippet wheezed. “You can tell us whether or not you cast the Incontinence Jinx on Danielle Bagman. If you say you did, I will take your honesty into consideration when I determine your punishment. If you say you did not, we will investigate further. If the investigation proves guilt, I will take your dishonesty into consideration as well.”

I quivered my lip and tried to make my eyes well up with tears. “I really did learn nonverbal spells to impress a boy,” I said. “But Danielle has been teasing me for weeks and weeks. She calls me bony and ugly. She says I’ll never get a boyfriend without a love potion. She said that all the pureblood families are inbred, and all sorts of things!” I covered my face with my hands and sniffled.

Slughorn immediately said, “There, there,” and made comforting sounds. He gently patted my shoulder. I leaned in to him as if I needed his emotional support. This display prevented me from looking up and gauging its effect, so I listened carefully, only sniffling here and there.

After a moment, maybe prompted by a look from Professor Dippet, Dumbledore said, “These school-aged rivalries can get cruel, and we can’t police every name our charges call each other, or every prank they pull. However, Miss Black has exerted magical control over another student’s bodily functions. I think it would be prudent to give her two full weeks of detention, to discourage a repetition of this behavior, and to deter other students from engaging in similar pranks.”

“Two full weeks?” Slughorn exclaimed. “On top of how much her own conscience is punishing her?”

“I knew it was wrong!” I sobbed. “I just wanted to make the bullying stop.” I buried my face in Slughorn’s shoulder. He patted my back with grandfatherly affection.

I slowed my display back down to occasional sniffles. Then I backed off of Slughorn, in a heroic attempt to reign in my girlish emotions. I still couldn’t make my damned eyes cooperate, so there were no visible tears. But I kept my hands over my face until someone handed me a handkerchief. Then I acted like I was drying my eyes and rubbed my tear ducts to make sure they at least looked irritated. When I “regained composure,” I gave Professor Dippet a demure look.

“Just the one week of detention, I think,” he said gently. “And we’ll count this interview as the first one.”

Again I bit back rage. A full week of punishment, for teaching a brute a lesson she needed to learn? And honestly, public humiliation was too gentle.

I nodded contritely. “Thank you, Professor Dippet,” I said, as if he had been generous with me.

“And I expect better behavior from a prefect going forward,” he wheezed.

“Of course, Professor Dippet. I promise, I will never use the Incontinence Jinx again.” That much is true—it was mildly amusing but failed to serve its purpose.

Professor Dippet looked at Dumbledore and Slughorn. “I expect both Miss Black and Miss Bagman to resolve their differences maturely. It is only natural for children to require guidance through their conflicts. I encourage both of you to provide it.”

It’s all right for Professor Dippet to call me a child. He must be over a hundred years old—to him, even the old slug is a young man.

“Naturally,” Dumbledore said calmly. He smiled.

“I should think so,” Slughorn said, a little indignantly. “Now my dear Miss Black, I recommend getting some rest tonight. I’ll see you in Potions tomorrow morning, and we can discuss the timing of your detentions after class.”

“Thank you, Professor Slughorn. Thank you, Professor Dippet.” I nodded “respectfully” at Dumbledore, dabbed my eyes with the handkerchief again, and left.

I was back in my bedroom before I realized the handkerchief was embroidered with the initials APWBD. Albus-threemiddlenames-Dumbledore. Good thing I held on to it instead of giving it back dry.

Every class has been assigning longer homework assignments than ever before. I’ve got my prefect duties. I’ve got Andie and Cissy to manage—mostly Andie. Cissy’s an angel. Add to all this, four evenings addressing envelopes for the slug’s extensive correspondence as he teases me about the boy I’m supposed to like and gives me romantic advice! I haven’t had a moment to myself!

***7 October 1967, Letchworth***

Bella,

Andie wrote home about your week of detentions. Your mother has one of her headaches, so she’s asked me to write the scolding letter in her place. Do be sure to mention in your next what a sobering effect my words have had on you. Really, I have only one piece of criticism: by repeating the jinx in your afternoon class, you spoiled a good deal of your plausible deniability.

I’ve also had a letter from Guideon Wikowski. I’m very proud of the initiative you’ve taken with nonverbal spells. As to the ruse of romantically pursuing an older boy, I must recommend that you follow through with it. Albus Dumbledore is a close observer. It behooves you to show him a socially acceptable passion. It will obscure the laudable, but unfortunately unpopular, sentiments that prompted you to act against the halfblood trash.

No news here. Your mother could probably fill a page with Grandfather Rosier’s poison apple breeding, and another with her cousin Markleton’s foreign travels. As I’m the one writing, all there is to say is, “These things continue.”

All my love to you and the girls, Daddy

PS: Your mother reminds me to mention that Orion and I will be traveling with his boys next week. We’re going to Weisensteig, to visit the grave of Brunhilde Hufflepuff. Surely, an early understanding of pureblood persecution will cure Sirius of his fascination with Muggle artifacts and instill proper priories in him and little Regulus.

***7 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Well, that’s it then. I’ve got to choose a boyfriend, and tolerate holding his hand for a week or two.

Weather clear. Homework burdensome. My salmon at dinner was overdone, but Hogwarts does not allow their House Elves to self-flagellate, even when they ruin supper. It seems there is no justice in the world.

***11 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Cold and a little cloudy.

I went to Andie’s Quidditch practice Monday, and again today. She’s the only girl, and the whole team are pureblood, so I figured it would not be the worst way to choose a tolerable boyfriend. Monday, I walked back to the castle on my own while they were still changing. Today, I waited for Andie and walked with her.

“Thanks for supporting the team,” Andie said.

I helpfully pointed out that she hadn’t gotten the dirt out from under her fingernails yet.

“You’re always so critical,” she whined. “You aren’t perfect either, you know.”

“I never said I was perfect!” I try so hard to keep my patience with her. “But I manage to keep my fingernails clean.”

“I’m sure that does a lot of good when you’re in detention for jinxing Danielle Bagman,” Andie sneered.

“Danielle Bagman jinxed herself,” I corrected her. “I held the wand, but she forced my hand.”

Andie gave me an ugly look.

“What?” I demanded.

“You’re unbelievable, you are,” she declared stupidly. I raised my eyebrows at her. “You don’t have any empathy at all.”

“How dare you?” I asked, pinching her arm. She yelped dramatically, as if I had done it hard. “Of course I understand other people’s emotions. I understand perfectly how vain and cruel Danielle is. She envies me. She hates me. It’s enough to make one pity her.”

Andie made a big show of rubbing her arm. “Fine,” she scowled. “Danielle Bagman is the villain and you’re just an innocent saint.”

This made me sigh. “Andie, you can be dramatic sometimes.”

“Wonder where I learnt it,” she muttered.

I pretended not to hear that one. It made more sense to put her in a good mood.

“You fly very well,” I told her. “Gryffindor doesn’t stand a chance on Saturday.”

She waited a moment before thanking me for the compliment. Then she asked why I came to her practices this week.

“What do you mean? You’ve got a game on Saturday. I want to support you.”

“Right,” she said skeptically.

“It’s what sisters do,” I told her.

She had the gall to scoff.

“Well if you don’t want sisterly affection,” I said, walking quickly away from her.

“Wait!” I knew she’d call out to me. She may be an athlete, but my legs are longer. She would have to outright run to keep up with me. “Bella!” I stopped walking and stood still, not turning around. I allowed her to catch up with me and then I started walking again. “I’m sorry,” Andie said. “Thank you for supporting my team.”

I gave her a hurt little smile. “I’m here for you, Andie. I’d give my wand arm for you.”

She smiled. “I’m here for you too.”

“And I’ll be in the front row of the stands on Saturday, cheering you on as you catch the Golden Snitch.”

She glowed.

I smiled at her again. “Can I tell you a secret?” I asked.

“Of course!” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“I might also be cheering… a little bit… for Leonard Crabbe, too.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Leonard Crabbe?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her.

“You are attracted...?”

“Yes.”

“To Leonard Crabbe?”

“That’s what I said!” Somehow it didn’t seem to be sinking in.

I expected her to pester me with questions, but she remained quiet until we reached the castle door. I dragged her aside before we went in. “You aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?”

“I would never betray you,” Andie promised. She must have felt very flattered that I’d confided in her.

“Thank you,” I said.

“But, Bella…” she looked conflicted. “I don’t know if Leonard will go out with you.”

I frowned at her. “You think I’m not good enough for him?”

“It isn’t that!” she insisted. “He’s, um. He’s never had a girlfriend before.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Right…” she bit her lip.

“Would you ask him if he thinks I’m pretty?” I asked. “But don’t make it obvious.” This guaranteed that she would make it obvious.

She nodded.

“Thanks, Andie.” I hugged her. She squeezed me tightly. Then we went back inside. In the Slytherin common room, she gave me a knowing (and unsubtle) wink. Then I went to the fifth and sixth year girl’s parlor to write this, and do homework.

***12 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Light rain.

My plan worked perfectly, as they generally do. Leonard and Cole always sit together at mealtimes. This morning, Andie left her little halfblood friend, Polyxena Langston, to sit with her Quidditch captain. She artlessly tried to suss out Leonard’s opinion of me. I couldn’t hear the conversation, and pretended I wasn’t watching them. But I had Adrienne on the lookout for me, and on her subtle cue, I glanced towards Leonard. He smiled at me and waved. I smiled, looked down “bashfully,” and looked back up. He gave me a quizzical expression. Then Cole started talking to him.

The seeds have been sewn.

***14 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Steady rain and wind.

Slytherin won, 180-100. Leonard made a few good saves but our Beaters are terrible, so the Gryffindor Chasers were running circles around him. Cole only scored one goal, and that was a penalty. Our one good Chaser is a fourth year boy, Rodolphus Lestrange. He scored the other goals. All the rest of our points came from Andie catching the Golden Snitch.

As we all celebrated in our common room, I saw an opportunity to forward Wikowski’s lie. Leonard and Cole were sitting at a table near one of the braziers, a little away from the bustle of the others. I nonverbally levitated Leonard’s butterbeer up away from his left hand and set it down between them. As they looked around, I caught Leonard’s eye and smirked. Then I nonverbally levitated his drink back to its original position. He gave me a, “come over here” sort of look. I gave him a flirtatious look and turned away, asking Millicent if she had done the reading for Charms yet.

A moment later, I heard Leonard’s deep, smooth voice in my ear: “That was pretty impressive.”

Millicent and Adrienne started giggling annoyingly. They gave us space, though.

“Any first year can levitate a butterbeer,” I said modestly.

“But how many fifth years can do it without saying a word?”

I shrugged.

“It’s crowded in here,” Leonard said. “Would you like to step into the corridor with me? Get some air?”

I said, “All right.”

Our walk wound around the ground floor of the castle. It was too wet outside to wander the grounds.

Some of Slughorn’s advice proved useful after all. I asked Leonard questions about himself to show my interest. I let the conversation peter out into silence here and there, demonstrating that I was neither too eager about him nor too needy for attention. I laughed at Leonard’s jokes, and some of them really were a bit amusing. I told him a few droll stories about Andie when she was little. He calls her by the same ugly nickname that her third year friends use.

“Dromeda.” It sounds like a disease. “I can’t go to your birthday party, I’ve come down with Dromeda.” And it’s hardly even a nickname! She just took the “An” off the front of her full name.

I told Leonard that calling her Andie was just my sibling privilege, as I allow her and Cissy to call me Bella. Apparently, he calls his little brother “Skip.”

“Ever think of picking your own nickname?” he asked.

I laughed. “Like what? Do I look like a Trixie to you?”

He’s got a handsome grin. “Maybe a Trix.”

“Call me that again and I’ll call you ‘Nard.’”

Most of our chat was flirtatious nonsense like that.

We looped back to the Slytherin dungeon, and he asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him on the first weekend in town.

So, I’ve got a boyfriend. A handsome, well-connected pureblood boyfriend. And “Bellatrix Crabbe” has a very respectable sound to it.

***15 October 1967, The Sunday Prophet***

DARK WIZARD MAKES AURORS NERVOUS WORLDWIDE, By Alexis Smith

BRUSSELS: A British wizard has been traveling around the globe, amassing international secrets of the Dark Arts, says a source close to the International Auror Association who chooses to remain nameless. Reports of one or several British wizards suspiciously visiting ancient temples have surfaced in Sudan, India, Mexico, and China; each report correlates to a rise in injuries, disappearances, and alleged deaths of local muggles.

The IAA’s first indication of dark magic came 5 years ago, when a band of British men who claimed to be on holiday near Wadi Halfa, Sudan uncovered an ancient temple to Apep, Egyptian snake god of chaos. The source reports that one of the men, reportedly the leader of the group, emerged from the temple “with snake-like eyes.” The source did not speculate on how or why this transfiguration took place. Four Sudanese citizens, all of whom worked together in the muggle field of “telecommunications,” have been missing ever since.

Wizards in Calcutta reported a “man with snake eyes” who studied with the wizard priests of Kali from approximately April 1963-October 1965. During this time, authorities noticed a 67% increase in muggle injuries and apparently accidental deaths.

The man’s travel was traced to Oaxaca, Mexico in December 1966, where several companions joined him. Alerted to possible mischief by the IAA, Mexican Aurors kept tabs on the party, which disappeared for 2 weeks and reappeared with ancient Aztec artifacts which they were forced to surrender at customs. The artifacts were described as coming from a temple of Tezcatlipoca. It was also noted that the British travelers’ 2-week absence correlated with 3 unexplained explosions in Muggle households, resulting in a total of 2 deaths and 17 injuries.

Last month, a group of witches in Hangzhou, China reported that their celebration of Mid-Autumn Day was disturbed when Caucasian, likely British, wizards stunned everyone present at the festivities and removed thousands-of-years-old objects from their altar to Chang’e.

“None of the reports have hit the press yet,” the source says. “No one wants to incite panic. The International Confederation of Wizards’ official stance is that nothing so bad as the rise of Grindelwald can possibly happen again.”

When asked why the source was speaking out against the ICW and IAA’s wishes, the source said, “This man is dangerous. He could pose a real threat to wizardkind and muggles.”

Neither the ICW nor the IAA responded to the request for an official comment.

***15 October 1967, Letchworth***

Bella,

I’ve enclosed a clipping from The Sunday Prophet. As I said in my last, your cousin Markleton Rosier’s travels continue. Smith has got it wrong—Markleton and the others didn’t join Lord Voldemort in Mexico; they’ve been with him this whole time.

“Snake-like eyes.” Doesn’t it make you wonder? There must be some benefit to this magical transformation.

Weisensteig was lovely. Little Regulus behaved very well, and seemed properly impressed with the witch burnings. Well, the witch burning, and the numerous muggles burned for “witchcraft.” He even realized without prompting that Brunhilde Hufflepuff could only have been captured by muggles because she tried to interfere in their desire to burn each other up.

I won’t hesitate to be frank with you, Bella. Regulus is rather more intelligent than Sirius. The latter was more interested in climbing monuments and pranking his little brother than in learning.

Everyone here is healthy. No need to convey our congratulations for Andie’s Quidditch victory. Your mother is writing her a very long letter. If you want particulars about Grandfather Rosier’s poison apples, or Ethel Greengrass’s benefit concert for the Orphans of Grindelwald’s Works, you can ask Andie.

Oh, and I approve your choice in the elder Crabbe boy. If he hurts you, I’ll Cruciate him until the last shreds of his sanity slip away, of course.

Love to you and the girls, Daddy

***16 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Sunny and brisk.

What a treat in this morning’s mail! The article Daddy sent me is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

All my life I’ve heard there is no such thing as perfection. “Nobody is perfect, but the Blacks come close.” It’s almost as much the family motto as Toujours Pure.

The perfect wizard does exist. He walks the world now, diving fearlessly into the depths of forbidden knowledge. He uncovered a forgotten Temple of Apep of Ancient Egypt, and learned the ancient secrets of chaos. In India, he infiltrated the wizard-priests of Kali, and mastered the Dark Art of annihilation. In Mexico, he found the ruins of a temple to an unpronounceable Aztec god and acquired long-forgotten blood magic. And he was spotted last month in China, no doubt on his way to grow even more powerful.

He’s English. He’s devouring the knowledge of the world, and if he returns, he could lead Great Britain, even the world, into a golden age of wizard power. He is smarter than Dumbledore, more capable than Grindelwald. Lord Voldemort is perfect in every way.

And my cousin knows him! Travels with him, learns from him. Markleton Rosier is the intimate acquaintance of Perfection.

I think I’ve come to understand myself better today than ever before. I can never hope to attain the same level of perfection as this new dark lord, but I will become my most perfect self. I will master the Dark Arts, I will serve the perfect cause, and if necessary, I will take by force the authority and honor that is my birthright.

I’m already worth twelve Markleton Rosiers. Surely, when Lord Voldemort sees me, he will recognize my value.

***19 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Overcast, humid, not very cold.

I’ve taken to sitting with my boyfriend at mealtimes. Wherever Leonard goes, so goes William Cole, and he’s said several things about me that were supposed to be witty and cutting. He resents seeing me so close to Leonard. The only reasonable explanation is that Cole is attracted to me, too, and jealous that Leonard and I are together.

I’ve pressed Sylvia Reid to sit with us, too. If Leonard is always going to have a best friend with him, then I ought to as well. Adrienne won’t do, because ideally, I would set my best friend up with Leonard’s, and Adrienne is still dating her Ravenclaw boyfriend. Millicent is available but atrocious to look at—the sort of companion who is certainly valuable, but doesn’t complement my looks. That leaves Ganymede, Valeria, and Sylvia. Valeria would be my first choice—she makes the least boring conversation—but she always leaves dinner early because she is President of Transfiguration Club and Treasurer of the Wizard Chess Club. Ganymede is very pretty, but she has that awful high-pitched laugh. So, Sylvia is my best friend.

I intend to transfer Cole’s affections from me to Sylvia, which should quiet his resentment over my relationship with Leonard, and give me and Leonard more time to walk around together, holding hands and looking like the perfect couple.

***20 October 1967, Lhasa City***

Dear Bellatrix,

I was surprised but very pleased to receive your letter. Congratulations on your early mastery of nonverbal spells.

My travels have been pleasant and instructive. Did you know that the wizards in Tibet never wear orange or red robes? I wore my red robes on our first day here, and everyone thought my friends were dragging a muggle monk around! As soon as we figured out why they kept their distance, I transfigured them to black and begged the Dark Lord’s forgiveness. He is generous, and instructed everyone else to switch to black too.

The Dark Lord took an interest in your letter, too. He is always so kind and attentive whenever any of us receive news from home. “Rosier, I must say, I’m pleased with your family,” he told me. “Your lot have the right priorities.”

He even wrote up a list of books in the Hogwarts library that he found useful when we were studying there. You’ll find it enclosed.

Lhasa City has some lovely architecture. Local wizards here have enchanted an entire block to look like muggle tenements in disrepair, when really, it is a venerable old temple. We’re studying permutations on the Protean Charm which work on any surface, not just parchment.

I look forward to hearing from you again. My regards to your parents and sisters. Remember me to Professor Slughorn, too. The Fatigue-Forestalling Potion he taught me has been invaluable on our long broom rides.

Warmly, Markleton Rosier

***Book Recommendations***

General Access

• Blood and Woad: a History of Wizardry in the British Isles by Bathilda Bagshot
• Apples of Avalon, Chalice of Immortality by William Caxton
• Eleanor Gwynne’s Expulsion from Hogwarts by Ferdinand Harpsichord
• The Wandless Charms of Anne Boleyn by Ferdinand Harpsichord
• Curses and Counter-Curses by Vindictus Veridian
• Incense and Incantations by Empress Theodora, translated by Haverford McGonagall
• Three Muggle Religions Mistakenly Based on Real Wizards by Donald Prince
• Taino Magic Before Spanish Rule: an Oral History of Jamaiqua by Friar Pablo de Sevilla la Nueva
• There are Already Wizards Here: Magic and Colonialism by Draxibald Shafiq

Restricted Section

• An Elegant Solution by Capella Black
• Draughts that Will Surely be Banned by Libatius Borage
• Moste Potente Potions by Phineas Bourne
• Ancient Rites by Ariel Durant
• Merman Scales and Centaur Hooves: Alchemical Properties of Ingredients Harvested from Creatures with Near-Human Intelligence by Ambrosius Gaunt
• Charity, Kindness, and Other Lies by Niccolo Machiavelli, translated by Remy Lestrange
• The Beat of Giant Hearts by Gulliver Pokeby

Happy reading. -V

***24 October 1967, Hogwarts***

“Happy reading.” A note to me, in his own hand. Guidance from a true master of Dark Arts. I will read them all, and I will do so happily.

I’ll start with the general access books, and then find my way to the others. Except for An Elegant Solution, since I read Daddy’s first edition copy so recently. I think he’s got the Machiavelli, too.

I have also subscribed to The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Interesting Travels, and Transfiguration Today. I wanted to cast a wide net of periodicals which may mention Lord Voldemort.

***28 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Freezing rain.

First Hogsmeade weekend of the year. It broke my heart to leave Cissy behind. But I’ll be there for her first parent-free trip to the village in her third year.

It was my and Leonard’s first real date, and for once, Cole left us alone. Leonard cast a strong, wide Bubble Charm around us, so we walked around the village unhindered by the weather. He bought me a few dark chocolate newts from Honeyduke’s. We scolded some third years who were daring each other to eat Cockroach Clusters. To my severe mortification, Andie was among them. Her first ever Hogsmeade weekend at school, and she’s already behaving like a child.

Then we went to the Three Broomsticks, which was rather busy. There was only one table open, near the door, where there would be an awful draught. I did spot a third year Hufflepuff boy sitting alone at a good table in the back corner, between a fireplace and a window.

“I’ll get us some butterbeers,” Leonard said, working his way through the crowd to the bar.

I took a seat across from the Hufflepuff boy. He smiled nervously and said, “Oh, um, hello. I’m actually waiting for my, um, friends.”

“But there won’t be room for them,” I chided him. “This is such a small table, and my boyfriend and I are already settled in here. You’d do better by your friends to take that big table over there.” I pointed out the available one.

“But…” he objected weakly.

I let my handbag thud as I put it on the table and pulled out a few books. “Of course, if you want your friends to be uncomfortable…?”

He stood up. “Right.” He walked to the available table.

“Good choice,” I said after him.

A moment later, Leonard placed a hot butterbeer beside me and took the seat the Hufflepuff boy had just vacated.

“Good table,” he said. He looked at my books. “I wish I had thought to bring something to read. There’s nothing like a book and a warm fire on a day like this.”

“Do you like histories?” I asked. “Biographies? Philosophy?”

“I gravitate to philosophy,” Leonard said. “Have you started Incense and Incantations yet? Theodora’s take on the hierarchy of blood status was centuries before its time. Purebloods rule, but benefit from ensuring the prosperity of halfbloods and even some civil rights for mudbloods. Radical thinking, but the economic prosperity of her reign can’t be denied.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Civil rights for mudbloods?”

“Yes,” he said. “No authority, of course. No access to ancient teachings, and no way to accumulate wealth. But if mudbloods are given the semblance of being more important than muggles, they become a most effective tool for controlling muggles.”

I shook my head. “An inelegant solution. Bureaucracy and lies. It makes me wonder how that book even made it to my reading list.”

Leonard smirked. “It’s also got three chapters dedicated to how she ruthlessly dispatched her political foes—before she married Emperor Justinian, while she reigned by his side, and after she replaced her husband with a more pliable lookalike.”

I shrugged. “I suppose I’ll start that one tonight, when I’ve done with the Nell Gwyn biography.”

He gave me a handsome smile and picked up Three Muggle Religions. I picked up Eleanor Gwynne’s Expulsion from Hogwarts. We wordlessly toasted our butterbeers and spent the afternoon reading, occasionally sharing well-turned phrases or interesting passages with each other.

If this is having a boyfriend, it suits me just fine.

***31 October 1967, Hogwarts***

Partly cloudy and cool.

Danielle Bagman didn’t quite ruin my birthday, but she certainly put a damper on it.

After I woke and dressed, I found Cissy and Andie in the fifth and sixth year Slytherin girls parlor. They told me their birthday presents were together, but I’m sure Andie made the card and Cissy chose the ring. It’s a lovely opal, and the setting opens up to reveal a hidden compartment just big enough to hide a capsule.

I met Leonard and Cole in the common room. Leonard’s present was a thin book, tied with a green ribbon in an attractive bow. The Greater Good: Reflections From Nurmengard by Gellert Grindelwald. I rewarded him with a warm smile. We waited for Sylvia to join us and wish me a happy birthday, and then Leonard and I held hands on the walk to the Great Hall for breakfast.

When the mail came, our eagle owl arrived with a sizable package for me. Mother had chosen a new set of dress robes for me. The cut and fit are perfect, but she does insist on putting me in pink “to warm up my complexion.” I’ve taken a leaf from Markleton’s book and transfigured them to black. Mother included a long letter with tedious details about Kassandra Greengrass’s benefit luncheon for some underprivileged wizarding school in Peru. I won’t bother attaching it in here.

I knew right off that Daddy’s present was the copy of the Ambrosius Gaunt book. His note confirmed it, so I left it wrapped and summoned a House Elf to bring it and the dress robes back to my bedroom for me.

Cole gave me a strange look. “What?” I asked.

“I didn’t know students were allowed to give Hogwarts House Elves orders,” he said.

“They like it,” I responded.

Cole shook his head in confusion. He may be the Quidditch captain, but he is rather dim and impersonable. I don’t think I’ll foist him off on Sylvia after all. It may be better to just separate Leonard from him.

“The Coles don’t have their own House Elf,” Leonard explained gently. “He didn’t grow up with their servility, so he just isn’t very experienced with it.”

Sylvia gave me a pleading look. I decided to let her off the hook.

“Oh, Sylvia, I just remembered. Millicent has mentioned having some trouble with the divination homework. You’re in it with her, right?”

I could see the relief and gratitude in Sylvia’s eyes. “Yes, I better go clear that up for her,” she said, rising. “Excuse me.” She went back to Millicent, Ganymede, Adrienne, and Valeria, and joined in their gossip and giggles.

“Strange girl,” Cole said, which was a bit rich coming from him.

That’s when Danielle Bagman and one of her ugly Gryffindor friends came over to the Slytherin table.

“Many happy returns, Bellatrix,” Danielle said cautiously. At least she didn’t have her usual saccharine enthusiasm.

I looked from Danielle to the girl with the stupid rhinestone-studded glasses and back to Danielle. They seemed to be waiting for something.

“Cheers,” I responded flatly.

For a moment, Danielle looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she walked away, mudblood trailing behind her.

“What was that about?” Leonard asked.

“I think it was supposed to resemble an olive branch,” I said.

“That’s how you respond to an olive branch?” Cole demanded.

“It wasn’t sincere,” I clarified. “She’s the kind of person who pretends she is very nice to your face, and then she says horrible lies about you behind your back. She thrives on attention and petty conflict. It’s rather sad, actually.”

“Ah, so she’s the source of all those rumors last month, then?” Leonard said calmly.

“I think so,” I answered.

“Well, I’ve got Divination,” Cole said. “I’ve got to walk all the way to North Tower.” He stood up, leaving his toast points untouched. He gave Leonard an expectant look.

“See you at lunch, then,” Leonard said with a casual wave.

Cole looked at me and walked away in a huff. It really would be kinder to him to separate him and Leonard. That way, he wouldn’t have to constantly see the object of his affection holding hands with someone else.

Speaking of unkindness, Dumbledore selected our partners for group work in class today, and stuck me with Danielle. He said something about fostering inter-house cooperation, but I know he’s just trying to antagonize me. I can’t believe the school governors would allow such petty behavior from a teacher. But, I suppose they’re too impressed with his Famous Defeat of Gellert Grindelwald for them to look at Dumbledore critically.

Defence Against the Dark Arts redeemed the day, though. Wikowski had us practice expansions and permutations of the shield charm. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. He gave Slytherin ten points when I cast a Reflection Shield, which sent Adrienne’s disarming spell back at her. Then, as we were leaving, he subtly told me, “Happy Birthday, Miss Black,” and slipped a small, thin package between my books.

His gift was a real treasure: a handheld Foe-Glass. I can keep it in my pocketbook and use it like a compact, or I can use it to look at the shadows of my enemies, which get distinct when they are close.

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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. For goodness’ sake, she wrote seven novels about a boy whose biological family reviles his true identity, and even tries to abuse him into conformity; she should be able to grasp that the boy deserves validation and support.