"What are you going to do now?" asked Andy, still holding my pinky finger.
"Take a bath, get dressed, and go to the lesson," I replied, releasing my finger from her grip and standing up.
"No, with … that," she said, standing up too and gesturing towards my bed.
"That reminds me, you need to go," I said, Accio-ing a fresh school uniform and accessories from the closet.
She said nothing, just crossed her arms and silently watched me prepare clothes for the day.
I turned around and looked at her first, raising an eyebrow, then nodding towards the door.
"Fine! Be like that," she exclaimed and marched to the door.
I waved my wand to drop the lock charm on the door and swung it open in one swift move.
"Put some robes on, for Merlin's sake," she said, leaving my room–but not before giving me the tongue. No class at all!
So what if I was naked?
I abandoned pretending to prepare for lessons, moved my clothes to the chair, and with a little jump, fell back onto the bed.
When Andy decided to come with me, I didn't have time (or energy) to argue, but it also meant I had to take a handle on myself as fast as I could.
That was not ideal, and I hoped to have more time for myself.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Even with Andy, I had to maintain a facade. She had to believe that everything was under control.
When I told her that whatever happened was a dark curse side effect, it wasn't far from the truth.
Dark curse, dark ritual—matters not. The end result was the same. It was dark, it had purpose, and it was living on my magic, deeply affecting me.
And, of course, being cursed was enough of a hit to Black's name. When they failed to find out who was responsible for it, the reputation took another hit. But if it became known that the daughter of Black started to act like a slut…
No, Nobody should know.
I would prefer that Andy didn't know either.
Fortunately, she believed that I was in control, that there was nothing to worry about. That her elder sister knew what she was doing. The irony was that I was not in control as much as I tried to show.
The curse hit me hard, way too hard. If I failed to find a way to take it under control, one day I would slip and ruin all chances not only to live freely, but to stay alive at all.
I couldn't allow myself to hope that it would all go away, that somehow it would all be fine.
That's why I locked the door again, renewed the privacy charm, and cast an analysis matrix on myself.
Quite a useful charm, that. Not only good for healers, but heavily used by curse-breakers as well. Easy enough to deal with curses when you could actually see the flow of magic, and how it interacted with living or non-living matter.
Exactly what I needed.
I watched closely for anything that might shine a light on what was happening to me, but nothing looked like an active curse.
It was supposed to appear as a shifting, moving magical construct, almost with a mind of its own, and I saw nothing of the sort.
Everything looked fine—except for the tangled threads where my womb and vagina should have been.
Even that appeared more like damage left behind by a dark curse, rather than an active curse itself.
I knew it was there, and I knew what to do to make it show itself.
Slowly releasing my tight grip on my Occlumency shields, I detached from what was about to happen as much as I could, focusing solely on the matrix above me.
Tangled threads began to pulse and shift chaotically, flaring in a multitude of colours above me.
Immediately, I felt how suppressed desire unfolded at the bottom of my gut, sending waves of pleasure down to where my vagina used to be. At the same time, my breasts became hypersensitive, my nipples painfully erect, demanding to be rubbed.
Involuntarily, I cupped my breasts and released a moan, unable to hold it anymore.
I barely stayed in control, watching, analysing, and learning the ins and outs of the working curse.
I needed to find a way to deal with it without losing my mind, without becoming a slave to this curse, to this desire.
I knew dark magic and had learned it well. Fighting it head-on was not the way to deal with it. No, you had to find a way to subvert it, to take it under your will, to channel it.
My focus was interrupted by an unfamiliar sensation, and I was surprised to realise that one of my hands was touching my fanny.
For a few short minutes, I lost myself exploring a new sensation I had never known before. In my future memories, I had never had sex willingly. It had always been forced on me, often with a lust potion, and under its effects, nothing had really mattered.
I hated it.
Now, though, I found that by touching myself there, I could get pleasure without needing a man for it, without needing that one disgusting bit they always insisted on putting inside.
I laughed, realising that even if they tried now, they wouldn't find a way to get it inside me.
In a way, it would have been poetic—if it weren't for the endless desire I now had to deal with.
Time stretched out; desire and pleasure filled me to the point of unconsciousness. Nothing mattered anymore except this endless flow of magic inside me.
I realised I had lost control only when I was already on the edge of magical exhaustion, when the pulsing calmed down, folding back and hiding in my belly, almost purring like a well-petted kitten.
My room was stinking with a heavy smell of sweat, and I was lying in the splashing puddle my bed had turned into.
Way to go, Bella. Way to go.
At least for some time, I wouldn't need to apply Occlumency anymore.
Tempus - 9:51 a.m.
Jumping from the bed, I grabbed my prepared clothes and hurried to the bathroom.
Only when I fruitlessly tried the handle did I remember I had locked the door.
Put some robes on, for Merlin's sake.
Andy's voice echoed in my mind, reminding me that I had also forgotten to put on robes. Again.
Shit.
༄
Standing in front of the full-body mirror, naked and fresh from bathing, I couldn't miss the state of my body.
Unfortunately, three months spent in St Mungo's wards had left a lasting effect on me.
I had lost any fat (if I ever had any), and my thin arms, sticking-out collarbones, ribs, and pelvic bones were painting an unpleasant picture.
Even my breasts had shrunk, and the gap between my thighs was now so wide it could fit a fist.
Fortunately, that healer—Smetwyck? Snetrick? Whatever—had given me a set of nutrition potions and explained what I should do to recover faster.
Had I had them after Azkaban, too?
Donning my school uniform, I hid all this atrocity under my clothes and walked out of the room.
It was almost time for second lesson, so I sped up, hurrying towards Potions.
But not for long.
The first stairs vividly reminded me of my condition.
Merlin, I was so weak that even now my stomach muscles hurt, and my legs were still shaking after the work with the curse.
It was a saving grace that nobody saw me in such a pathetic state.
Not after Azkaban-level pathetic, sure, but definitely on par with training under Dolohov.
Back then, when he was in charge of the training camp for future Death Eaters, he gave us a good one, turning us into a force to be reckoned with.
He not only forced us to exercise physically, but also often pushed us to magical exhaustion, stating it was the way to increase our magical power.
Humourously enough, all I needed now was to let my curse loose, and it would force my body and magic to exhaustion, giving me the exercises I badly needed.
Just for a second, I imagined telling him—just to see his reaction.
I could almost see him cursing future Death Eater wannabes to speed up their training. He had a wicked humour like that.
Smiling at my own imagination, I finally reached the Potions classroom, just on time, before the lesson started.
Back to school, Bella, back to school. Hopefully, I still remember how to make potions right. Or at least not explode.
Stepping through the door, I was greeted by the distinctly unique smell I always associated with this class. The noise of moving and talking students added a specific atmosphere I hadn't realised I missed.
Only now did I finally accept that I was back at Hogwarts, back in time, and that my life was starting over.
I was young, I hadn't been to Azkaban (memories notwithstanding), and even if I had serious issues to deal with, it wasn't all that bad. Not bad at all.
"Come, come, Ms Black. Take your seat, we are starting in a minute," said Professor Slughorn, breaking me out of my unintentional stupor.
I gave him a brief smile, and he brightened at that, clearly happy to see me here.
Slowly walking to my usual seat, I looked around with newfound perspective. The same old classroom, with wooden tables and benches, wide enough to fit two people at each.
As usual, Slytherin and Gryffindor students didn't mix, choosing sides of the room with an invisible line between them.
Only now did I realise how many students there were in my year. I counted at least forty, and that was only Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Some of them had died at my hands, refusing to submit to Him. Others were killed in raids and battles over the next decade. The lucky ones were smart enough to flee abroad, never to return.
With each step, silence spread in waves around me, especially on the Slytherin side. People were turning their heads, stopping their conversations, and silently following my steps with their eyes. They were watching me, measuring me, and, with hidden expectation, were waiting for something to happen.
Before I even reached my seat, I spotted an unfamiliar girl in a Slytherin uniform sitting at my table.
An average, round face with full lips, wide-open blue eyes, and blond hair in a long French braid. She bore no resemblance to any known family I recognised, and judging by her outfit, she wasn't from a wealthy family either.
Half-blood, maybe?
I didn't doubt that everyone—or at least everyone in Slytherin—already knew I was back at school. So her sitting in my place was no accident, but a test.
Someone was trying to set me up—to see if I would show weakness or lose face, either by taking another seat or overreacting to her presence.
Of course, I expected Slytherin to try me—after all, I had been absent for a while—but this was pathetic.
I locked eyes with the most probable culprit, with my never-to-be husband, Rodolphus Lestrange.
If not for the sadistic smile on his face, he would have looked great. Young, tall, and well-built. Too bad that his cute face, with elusive Spanish-like features, concealed an utterly dumb person.
I doubted he could come up with a plan that had more than one step in it. Most likely, he had forced the girl to do his bidding under a promise of violence, and stopped there.
To be fair, in the fifth year, a half-blood in Slytherin without patronage would take a threat like that seriously, most probably assuming the worst.
Well. Unless the half-blood wasn't planning for it from the beginning, of course.
Right, there had been some scandals I had ignored originally. Whispers about Rodolphus and a girl.
The girl had left Hogwarts after the fifth year, after the OWLs. There had been rumours that she left with a baby under her heart back then.
Could it be a coincidence?
With a wicked smile, I finally reached my table. The girl—no, the pet—lost all colour in her face, and her lower lip started to tremble.
Genius, or playing?
"Well done, pet," I said, petting her head.
She almost jumped in place and scrambled aside, leaving space for me to sit.
"I will curse you if you forget it again," I said, sitting down and pushing my school bag into her hands.
"Yes, Mistress," she said, after an almost unnoticeable delay.
Nodding, as if I expected no less, I turned around to see Slughorn looking in our direction and smiling.
Tilting my head slightly, I reevaluated the situation. Slughorn had some stakes in it, and it seemed he had just scored something.
Not a surprise, honestly. He wasn't Head of Slytherin House for nothing, and he never failed to use it for his own gain. Be it a student from a prominent family or a promising future star, he would always find a way to gain benefits.
Just then, the bell rang, and, clapping his hands a few times, Slughorn started the lesson.
"In a few months, all of you will have your OWLs. You will be thoroughly tested, and you might be asked about any potion we have brewed over the years.
Starting today, we will brew each potion once more, beginning with the fourth year potion, like…"
Welcome back to school, indeed.
༄
While Pet was setting up the station and bringing in ingredients, I looked around, trying to remember who was who.
Slytherin's girls were the easiest. I had no problem identifying Avery, Nott, Selwyn, Flint, Rowle, and the Travers.
All pure-bloods, all from prominent families, all married off soon after graduation.
I had never had more than a passing interaction with them. They kept to themselves and preferred to avoid me after I hexed the Travers girl for daring to touch my belongings in the first year, and she spent a week in the hospital wing.
Then there were the four half-bloods or from not so important families. Names? I didn't have a clue. Those were smart enough to avoid me from the beginning.
"Five more minutes," I interrupted Pet, preventing her from adding the Mandrake Root too early.
There were fewer boys in my year in Slytherin than girls. I easily recognised Burke, Montague, and Flit (and a Lestrange, of course). Others? The same, I had no clue, but two were looking familiar.
Perhaps and I saw them killed?
"Counter-clockwise, not clockwise," I commented again, and turned to the Gryffindor side.
That was harder.
Out of a dozen girls, I knew only Shacklebolt's name. She was distinct, after all—dark skin, and all that exotic look.
Three other girls I recognised as Muggle-born, purely by the way they dressed. Even after almost five years at Hogwarts, they were still missing all the cultural markers.
They were dressed as if they aimed to become whores in Knockturn Alley.
I silently put out the fire under the cauldron. If Pet had waited a few seconds longer, the potion would have lost its accumulated potency.
"Don't even breathe in the cauldron's direction," I commanded Pet, and set a timer.
Now, where had I stopped? Ah, right—Gryffindor's boys.
Twelve boys.
Two purebloods who were killed by me–Macmillan and Sallows. They were given a chance to join, but preferred to spit into an extended hand. Their loss.
And just now, they had managed to turn their potion into a black mess and were laughing while melting their tools in it.
How?
I quickly scanned over the others, not recognising a single face—clearly, muggle-borns and half-bloods–the lowest of the low.
Ah, no—that one. I remembered him. And only because Rodolphus blasted him into pieces, splashing blood everywhere, especially on my nice, just-bought coat. The bastard.
"Well, well, well. What an excellent Pepperup Potion you've got here, Ms Black. Truly, well done," said Slughorn, showing up at our table to test our work.
"Thank you, Professor," I replied calmly.
He gave me a knowing smile before turning to Pet, saying,
"Don't miss this opportunity, Ms Thorne,"
Little snake, innit? I might just keep her, at least for now.
I had neither the time nor the patience to do my homework, essays, or, like now, potions by myself.
Having a Pet to do so was just what I needed, so long as she wasn't a poisonous one.
༄
"Ms Black, please stay behind," said Slughorn when the second period ended.
Just a moment ago, he had finished the lesson with a lengthy list of homework we were expected to complete over the weekend. Now, everyone was moving, talking, and rushing to lunch after such a long double period.
When I reached the teacher's table, nearly all the students had gone, leaving me with Slughorn… and the Pet.
"Ms Black, thank you for staying behind," he began, and after a sigh, continued,
"I won't take much of your time."
"It is not a problem, Professor," I replied.
"Ah, Ms Thorne, you can wait outside. I won't hold Ms Black for long," he said, pretending to notice her only now.
"Yes, Professor," said Pet, before hurrying out the door, leaving us alone.
"I received a letter from Healer Smethwyck," he said in a measured voice, sighing once more.
"About?" I asked coldly.
"Nothing confidential, I assure you. He only told me what I needed to know as your Head of House," he hurried to explain with a worried expression.
I tilted my head, acknowledging information. If my condition were to become known today or tomorrow, they both would die. Painfully.
"Unfortunately, freeing you from homework is not an option," Slughorn continued, smiling a bit nervously.
"But to help you out, I've prepared this list of additional material you'll need to read to cover the missed three months," he said, extending a rolled parchment to me.
He wanted something from me—that was a given. But if I remembered him right, he would take the Highlands road to Hogsmeade, if you let him.
"And what could I do for you to repay your patronage?" I asked, raising my left eyebrow.
"Ah, don't you worry, Ms Black. It's my job after all," he said, waving a hand airily—but his body told a different story.
"I insist, Professor," I pressed.
"Oh, well. I wouldn't stop you if you sent crystallised pineapple my way, and…" He stretched the words for a second before continuing,
"Take a good look at Ms Thorne. She has potential. Although not in Potions," he added with a chuckle.
"Indeed," I said with a cold smile.
So, did you promise to look after her for someone, Slughorn? Is that your interest here?
༄
When I left the Potions class, my Pet was waiting for me in the hall.
Good.
Turning on my heel, I began walking down the hall towards the stairs.
Pet silently followed me, staying one step behind my right shoulder, once again proving she was in Slytherin not for nothing.
My mind wandered back to fuzzy memories of the future, looking for clues.
I knew nothing about the Thorne family, and this girl, Pet, had left no imprint on me at all. It was as if she had never existed, but most likely she had been smart enough never to draw attention to herself.
Her family hadn't been active on either side of the war, nor had they been important enough to attract His attention, leaving me completely clueless in this situation.
It seemed a matter for a letter to Uncle Alphard. He had taken over responsibility for information gathering in our family after his father, Pollux, had stepped down from the position last year, if I remember it right.
Reaching the dining hall, I walked to the Slytherin table, gesturing silently for Pet to follow.
Most of our classmates were already there. There was no surprise on their faces, but a few cast calculating glances at my Pet, reevaluating her standing in Slytherin.
Only Rodolphus was sulking, unhappy that I had overplayed him. I was certain that he had already received quite a few unpleasant comments about his failure to set me up.
Not only had Pet's rank changed, but Rodolphus's had as well, naturally. What a sweet revenge it was! Now all I needed was a final touch.
I sat on the other side of the table, right across from him, bringing Pet with me. If, before today, the best place she could hope for was among the lower-year students, now she sat at the same table as a high-standing member of our society.
Just a bit of salt in his wound.
Pet began to serve me food, the one I liked the most, while I sweetly smiled at Rodolphus, waiting for him to make even more mistakes.
Oh, I knew him so well.
Everyone around us silently watched the development, pretending not to, yet ready to capitalise on it. A few bids were made in the seventh-year corner. It seemed I was once again in the race for Slytherin Queen, and my performance today had moved me up the ladder.
Rodolphus was forcefully cutting his steak at first, pretending not to see me, but quickly gave up, angrily dropping his utensils and opening his mouth, ready to dig himself an even deeper hole.
"Rodolph, come. I got a letter from Father—we need to discuss it urgently," said his younger (and smarter) brother, saving him just in time.
I didn't let my smile slip, giving a polite nod, just to poke him a bit more. But alas, his brother's tight grip on his shoulder didn't let him say a word before he was whisked away.
I dismissed them from my mind, focusing on my food, another little play on my side.
Not visibly showing it, I cast a magic detection charm silently and wandlessly. Accepting food from my Pet's hands without checking it was a demonstration of trust I didn't have, and I doubted I ever would.
Just another little trap if someone decided to exploit it. And a test. After all, she could be a poisonous pet, looking to bite me.
༄
Since I had woken up in St Mungo's wards, I had been in a rush.
At first, I had to figure out what had happened to me, where I was, and—most importantly—what day it was.
Waking up back in 1968, in the middle of March, had been surprising in itself. Flashes of memories, heavy emotions, and a constant, overwhelming sense of wrongness added their own flavour on top.
The increasing desire to mate was like a wrong ingredient in an already screwed-up potion, spilling out of the boiling cauldron.
If not for the Calming Draught, I would have failed.
If not for Occlumency training, I would have become a raving mad, soon-to-be-dead witch.
Still, it had only been a few days since I woke up, and Cygnus had deemed it fit to return me to Hogwarts as soon as possible.
No matter how I looked now, I wasn't sixteen years old anymore, nor was I Bellatrix Lestrange, a broken and insane woman.
I felt aged.
I also had habits I didn't have before, which I used casually without a second thought—like non-verbal or wandless casting.
I needed time to sort myself out, and I needed it badly. But instead, I had to deal with school and everything that came with it.
At least it was Friday, the last lesson of the week. I was already looking forward to the weekend, hoping to just sit Charms out.
But no. Professor Quilby decided we should review all the charms we had learned over the years.
At first, I was just annoyed. I had better, more urgent matters to deal with than waving a wand around casting childish spells like Leviosa.
It made sense, of course. Three months were hardly enough time to prepare for OWLs, and it was better to start earlier, but I really didn't want to do it.
Until I realised I had a serious issue. No, I had no trouble casting charms–I had trouble casting them verbally.
The last thing I needed now was to attract attention, to out myself as a non-verbal caster. Especially not now, with "being cursed" still fresh in people's gossip and memory.
So when the lesson ended, I walked out, exhausted from all the mental struggle I had gone through, and it, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed.
Before long, it would be known that Bellatrix Black, famous for her fierceness and relentless nature, had been left a little under the weather after a simple Charms lesson.
Merlin, I had to be smarter than that.
Unhappy with my slip, I took my steps towards the Slytherin common room.
I would prefer to go to the library, better yet, to the Restricted Section and dig into books about dark curses.
Instead, I had to go and play politics. Disappearing into the library right now would be taken as a weakness, and then I would have to deal with the fallout the hard way, attracting exactly the kind of unwanted attention I couldn't afford.
I have no time for that.
Pausing in my steps, I really considered the idea of just going to the library.
What was the worst that could happen?
Sharply turning, I found Pet patiently standing there.
Right.
"You are free until tomorrow," I said, stepping around her and heading for the library.
"Thank you, Mistress!" she replied with surprise behind me, but I had already forgotten about her.
Alright, I need a plan.
༄