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Chapter Text

When she arrived in Ravenclaw Tower, all she wanted to do was sleep. Her brain was exhausted, taking in new information but not processing it. In through one ear, out the other.

However, that didn't stop her from noticing the private library. Private. Library.

Not a shelf filled with books, but a room full of magically expanded shelves. And the ceiling? Books. Hardcover, paperback, leather-bound books. Everywhere.

"So you guys finally noticed our pride and joy, eh?" said Penelope Clearwater.

Robert Hillard, the second Prefect, stepped in front of her. "Well, dear firsties, don't rush in. Like everywhere else, this place has rules."

He went to stay in front of the entrance "First. Wear slippers. They are freely provided by the older years, so don't worry about that. You'll each have a cubby that will unlock with a simple Alohomora. Do not wear your slippers outside of the library, if you do, you cannot enter until you buy another pair."

Clearwater moved in front of him "Second rule. Don't take a book off the shelf unless you want to read it. They each have a sticking charm that works only on these shelves. Why, you may ask? Because…" she went into the library -with a pair of plain white slippers on- and took a book off its shelf.

Hillard walked to an inconspicuous raven statue and said "Rotating left!" before pushing the statue to the left.

Clearwater, who was lounging on an overstuffed couch, quickly got to her feet. A few seconds after, the room began rotating, a new floor appearing on top of the shelves and the previous one disappearing to reveal more tomes. The chairs and blankets levitated gently before going to their previous position, on the floor, and Penelope tripped and fell in what was a clearly rehearsed move.

"As you can see, it's not the most pleasant experience, even if everything has a cushioning charm. So, rule three. Always announce when you're going to rotate the room at least a minute before you do, and rule three point one, only rotate the room if you're sure that the book you're looking for is there."

The other Prefect then moved to grab their attention "There's an index next to me that updates every five minutes, so you don't have an excuse if you think of trying something."

He laughed at their indignant protests "Yes yes, that's what I said, too. Last library rule, don't take the books out of the Tower. The rest is common sense: don't dogear the pages, don't crack the spines, Merlin forbid you write in them, etcetera, etcetera."

Clearwater seemed to be the only one that noticed that we were starting to fall asleep again.

"Well, chicks, your curfew is at eight and it increases by half an hour each year. If you don't know the way to class you can ask an older student for directions, never ask a portrait, and to sleep with you. Girls to the left, boys to the right."

They climbed the spiral staircases at the back of the tower, each with intricate designs made out of bronze wire. The first set of dorms is on the first floor, which is where her year will be sleeping.

Alya looked at the plaque on the door, it seems she'll be rooming with Turpin.

"Yes! Alya, we're roommates!"

Oh. Her full name is Lisa Turpin. Well, there certainly are worse choices, but at least Lisa's nice, even if she's too nice. Or maybe she's just the right amount of nice. Alya doesn't know, and neither does she care to find out.

Lisa jumped face-first into the closest bed.

"Oof. This mattress is so soft!"

She jumped up and down to test its springiness before fluffing up the pillows and smooshing her face in them "These are really soft too!" came her muffled voice.

Alya ignored her and started unpacking her trunk. She didn't have a lot of clothes so it was a quick affair.

Lisa started questioning her while she moved a few boxes under her bed "What class are you most excited about? I want to say it's Transfiguration but I heard that DADA is cursed." she wiggled her fingers to emphasise the point.

She ignored her again, organizing her inkwells in the desk drawer instead of responding.

Lisa pouted at her silence "You're not that talkative, are you? Well don't worry, everyone I know says that I'm like a leech in the friendship department, and you won't be the one to get rid of me, Potter. Mark my words! I. Will. Befriend-"

She cast a weak silencing charm on the curtains surrounding her bed. How was this girl not sorted into Hufflepuff?

Alya didn't notice when she dozed off and woke up slowly, letting her senses get adjusted to her environment, first the feeling of cotton on her skin, then the smell of lavender and a mild panic of 'where am I?' before rubbing her eyes so she wouldn't go back to sleep.

From the window, she could see that the sun was barely rising. From the quiet atmosphere, she could tell that Lisa was still asleep, it appears she’s not an early bird.

She went to their shared bathroom, grateful that it was already equipped, and took the luxury of having a long shower.

As soon as she checked the temperature of the water she was reminded of the wound that she gained yesterday.

It was doing better now, healing at a rapid pace, scabbing, even. Fortunately, the sleeves of her robes were long enough to cover her entire hand.

The sound of water droplets didn't seem to stir her roommate, so she quietly tiptoed out of the room.

Other early risers were doing their thing in the common room, half of them in the magically expanded walls of the library, none of them her age.

She's sown as many pockets in her clothes as she could get away with, in case she needs something on the spot.

Alya sat down on the hardwood floor, pulling out a self-inking quill -and it turns out that it's not a quill with infinite ink, but capable of storing as much ink as you dip it in- and the messy scrap of parchment, she then started practising writing lines and dots. Like a toddler.

Soft footsteps were coming her way, Alya didn't think anything of it until their owner sat down in front of her.

"Up early, I see. Too excited to sleep?" asked Hillard, the Prefect looking curiously at her.

Alya straightened her back, basic manners drilled into her by her aunt kicking in, "No, I'm just an early riser."

Hillard raised an eyebrow as he watched her practice drawing shapes on her parchment. "Interesting choice of activity," he remarked.

Alya glanced up at him, trying to read his expression. "I'm just practising my writing," she replied, trying to sound casual.

Hillard nodded, but there was a hint of scepticism in his voice as he asked, "And what exactly are you writing?"

"Just… stuff," Alya replied, feeling a bit self-conscious now. She didn't want to seem foolish in front of the older student.

Hillard leaned back slightly, his demeanour was carefree, not at all bothered by her oddity. "It's a self-inking quill, right? Kind of like a Muggle pen? I remember using one when I was younger. Makes things a lot easier, doesn't it? No ink blotches."

Alya nodded, relieved that Hillard wasn't criticising her. "It's convenient."

Hillard smiled and then grimaced a little, "Do you mind if I take a look? Maybe I can give you some tips on how to grip it properly."

Alya handed him the quill, she was planning on adjusting her grip based on what she saw of her classmates throughout the day, but she won't deny the opportunity to learn now.

"There you go, that should make your handwriting a lot neater. If you need any more help, just let me know."

She was grateful that he hadn't asked about her obvious lack of knowledge, maybe that’s why he was made Prefect. She was also suspicious of her luck; besides that bushy-haired girl from the train (Greger? Grudger? Granger.) nobody has asked any uncomfortable questions so far.

Maybe it was because of the spot she chose. It's quite secluded, and what younger years were here now probably avoided it because of the Prefect's presence.

Speaking of, she once again thanked Hillard and walked to breakfast early, not wanting to be the target of Lisa's overwhelming optimism.

As she turned a corner of a staircase, Alya heard voices coming from an adjacent hallway. Curiosity getting the better of her, she decided to investigate.

As she approached, she recognized one of the voices as Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff student, one she overheard about from gossip at the Feast. Alya couldn't make out the other voice, other than the fact that it belonged to a girl.

"...so I was thinking we could host some BSL courses," Diggory was saying.

The other person made a confused noise.

"British Sign Language," Diggory clarified. "One of the first years is mute, and I thought it would be a good idea to offer some lessons so we can communicate with her better," he said.

"That's so kind of you, Cedric! I had heard that Muggles sometimes speak with their hands, but I never bothered to learn any of it. There's no need, since defects like that are healed immediately after discovery…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, poor girl. Can you spread the word?" he asked, and the girl must have nodded, because there was no other sound than their fading footsteps.

The mute first year was no doubt Bones, but Alya was stuck on something else. Why would they need to know sign language if Bones is the mute one?

She refused to believe that they didn't know the difference between not being able to talk and being deaf.

But, then again, the boy is in Hufflepuff. They do pointless things out of the kindness of their heart just because they're in the house of badgers. And she's a Ravenclaw, spending time on pointless things is a common stereotype, one she has no reason to prove right.

Alya tripped on a false step, before regaining her balance.

Then again, who knows when she might need it? And it's not like there aren't sign language users in the Muggle world.

Yet she has nothing to do with the Muggle side of things, she barely gets out of the neighbourhood and based on how her relatives acted around her before coming to Hogwarts she'll be lucky if she can step foot outside of the garden.

Still, if almost nobody in the Wizarding World knows it, she could use it as a code. You never know when a bit of trivia might come useful…

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw the reader amusing sight of an older student leading the younger ones up the stairs, the first years following like ducklings.

She was directly in their path, so Abbott and Bones saw her and immediately rushed out of the formation to greet her.

The brunette signed what had to be a greeting, which the other witch translated.

Alya wished she could slap herself for missing the obvious, but since there were too many people around, she settled for a smile "Hi."

"Have you seen Lisa around? Is she behind you?" Abbott asked, the last sentence was Bones'.

She shook her head "No, she was sleeping like a log and I didn't want to bother her. I think she set up an alarm last night, anyway." she didn't, but neither of them called her out on her lie.

"Yeah, she does like to sleep in a lot. Probably didn't get over the fact that she’s at Hogwarts until midnight." Bones signed the first sentence, with Abbot finishing the statement.

They've definitely known each other for a long time if the blonde can incorporate the other girl's words so well into her own opinion.

The Hall was relatively empty, only the yellow-clad table was anywhere close to being full. Most of the older Slytherins were also there. Almost none of the Gryffindors were present and the few Ravenclaws she saw were too busy reading to eat.

“Wow, it sure is empty at your table. Do you want to sit with us?” Abbot offered, tilting her head in the direction of her house’s table.

She shook her head and revealed the old book she kept in the secret pocket she’d sewn in the hood of her outer robe with a sheepish smile “I’m good, thanks.”

Bones snorted at her apparent tendency to keep books on hand in the most random places, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like ‘Ravenclaws’. She took Abbot’s hand and tugged her to prevent her friend from insisting she joins them.

Alya took a seat on the far left, picking a bowl of what looked like oats with fruit and yoghurt, and began to read.

< center>The backstitch is a simple, yet versatile embroidery stitch that has been used for centuries. It is believed to have originated in ancient China and was later adopted by other cultures. In Europe, the backstitch was used during the Middle Ages and Renaissance to create elaborate designs on clothing and textiles.

"Say, you're Potter, aren't you?" a boy asked, standing behind her.

She put a finger on the page to mark where she was at, before turning her head at him.

He looked around her age, wearing Slytherin robes. His voice matched his stance, confident with an underlying arrogance.

"So what if I am?" it was bound to happen sometime, and ignoring the questions will most likely start rumours, which will bring other questions she doesn't have answers to.

"Where were you all this time? Nobody has heard anything since you defeated the Dark Lord. Well, except for the storybooks, but any wizard worth their salt knows they're rubbish."

She nodded even if she had never actually read any of them, only checking if she was getting a share of the profits, which she was, thankfully.

From what Alya knows about Slytherin (which is very little, "Hogwarts, a History" is more of an architecture book), 'with Muggles' is not an acceptable answer, so she deflected "Who are you?"

The boy's cheeks reddened. He tipped his head in apology "I seem to have forgotten my manners. My sincerest apologies-" that part sounded slightly rehearsed, and a bit forced "-my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir and only child of House Malfoy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. May I ask for your name?"

The formal apology sounded odd coming out of the child's mouth. The entire thing was spoken in a tone that indicated he had memorised it word for word.

And Alya was worried that she needed to say something equally formal, she hoped there would be a convenient interruption that would save her from an inevitably embarrassing situation. Maybe Lisa bursting through the doors, making a ruckus thinking she's late.

Unfortunately, nothing happened, and she settled for an awkward "Alya Potter."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow "Alright, I guess the full textbook apology was a little too much. Still, yours was overly informal. Though I'm not that surprised the ones who raised you didn't do so with manners." the last part was supposed to be muttered, but it came out louder than Malfoy intended.

She was a little embarrassed but she pressed her lips in annoyance at the insult. "If you're done, I'd like to go back to my reading."

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by another voice.

"What's taking you so long Draco?" the question came from a brunette boy with sharp features. He looked, well, not friendly, but approachable.

Malfoy's expression turned to annoyance "Theo! I thought that we established that I'll be the one who greets Potter first!" he whined.

The boy's expression also turned annoyed at his friend. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't supposed to do that.

The time must have flown by because the owls started gathering, dropping mail and newspapers; demanding a treat from every student.

One landed directly into her food, getting coated in yoghurt and grains. The sudden texture caused it to panic and tip the bowl over, landing on her lap with an angry squawk.

Alya glared at the bird, who was still squirming in her lap, carrying a now dirty newspaper.

"I don't get why they still let that bird deliver stuff." Malfoy said despite nobody asking "The thing's missing an eye."

The owl was, indeed, missing its left eye. Alya unwrapped the twine holding the paper rolled up, she figured that whoever this should have belonged to wouldn't want it now.

[Article]

Alya scowled and threw the paper on the table, not bothering to read any further praise. Why would they think that they know so much about her because she did one thing as a toddler? It was ridiculous, she was being portrayed as the next coming of Merlin because she had a hawthorn wand!

There were several intakes of breath and murmurs from the tables. Some students were looking at her because of her unreasonable reaction.

Alya ducked her head slightly embarrassed before raising it again when she heard someone clear their throat.

"I'd say that it was a pretty reasonable reaction… honestly, if it were me, I'd immediately owl my parents to sue the Prophet." Said the brunette.

"Sue?" Alya asked, running the word through her head again to make sure that she heard correctly.

Sue? Like sow? Why would she need to do that to someone? It sounded… well, she didn't know but it made her uncomfortable.

"Yes! Nothing to go to the Wizengamot about-"

Wizagawha?

"-but contacting a professional to determine the qualities of a wand of a minor? And putting the information on the first page, for everyone to know? It's- it's- ugh!!!" he huffed, looking like he was about to clench his fists and stomp.

The door was looming ominously above her. It was ordinary, oak with a polished finish, but who waited behind it was the one she was worried about meeting.

Three short knocks sounded in the empty hallway before she could find a reason to back out.

There was a bit of shuffling before her teacher's voice answered.

"Enter."

Her voice had a bored quality to it, with an undertone of annoyance. Alya's heart skipped a beat before she reminded herself that there was nothing to fear. Plus, she told Theodore where she was going.

Well, she told him the floor where she was going.

The door did not creak when it opened as she half-expected it to.

Walking into the office felt like she was walking in Knockturn, an instant feeling of unease compared to the relative harmony of the castle which was quickly smothered by the familiarity of the particular shade of amethyst the walls were painted and the lack of sound her footsteps made on the black plush carpet.

"Ah, Miss Potter!" Professor Black said, previous boredom gone, replaced by a wide grin "Do you need something? A pass for the restricted section, perhaps?" she asked, not mockingly but not teasingly either.

"No, professor. I-" her voice cracked, she was crazy for coming here, she had to be if she thought that this was the appropriate course of action "I have a question."

Any playfulness Bellatrix's voice had was replaced in an instant by a scowl, her bad mood returning "Spit it out then, you know better than to beat around the bush."

"It's about Lisa," she said quickly.

At that her professor raised an eyebrow "Trouble in paradise?" she leaned forward "Alya darling, you should know by now that I'm not interested in teenage gossip, especially when it comes to that mudblood spawn of yours."

She didn't react to the slur, the endearment making her relax slightly. Besides, she’s used to everyone's quiet and not-so-quiet disapproval when it comes to her dating choices. But that wasn't why she was here.

She kept her hands on her lap, making sure not to fidget with the fabric of her robe.

"No, no. Some things… came up. I don't want to elaborate but she keeps on hinting at knowing things that she shouldn't, and disappearing for long periods of time."

She took a moment to organize her thoughts, to find a way of putting them into words. She didn't want to think about it, she was going to break down crying if she did so and this was not the time nor place.

"I… I think that I'm being rash about it. Extremely rash, but- but the only way I can think of taking care of the problem is-"

"Taking care of her."

Alya was grateful for not having to finish her sentence, she didn't think that she could, anyway.

Professor Black was watching her intently, probably sneering inside at her obvious display of weakness.

She did not look down, nor did she flinch when a perfectly manicured hand reached for her, black claws coming close to her face and shifting a lock of hair from her neat bun to her eyes.

Gray shifted to stare into slightly damp hazel-green, an emotion behind them but not one she could name.

"Do what you think is best." she said, her tone conveying a thousand different things.

Lisa woke up with a cuddly Ally pressed against her chest. She's not sure if her girlfriend realizes how cute she is when she nuzzles something. She's so cute she might have thought she was secretly a Veela if she hadn't met one last year. Ally’s overprotectiveness was touching, even if she hadn't liked it. She still remembers how freaked out the wavy-haired girl got when she first got caught in the allure.

Speaking of Fleur, it's been a while since they exchanged owls. Her studies in French have been coming along nicely, even if her accent is dreadful.

Ally moaned sleepily, her feet kicking out the covers and going back in at the change of temperature.

"G'mornin', Lisshy" she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her gorgeous eyes free of sand before her absolutely beautiful thick lashes fluttered open.

"Morning, honey whiskers," she whispered, chuckling at her grumble at the nickname. For all of her rough and tough persona, she was as sweet and gooey as a marshmallow once she warms up to you.

Ally sat on the bed, stretching out her arms and yawning "I love you, but what's up with all of the cat nicknames?" she asked.

Lisa just shrugged her shoulders, content with the peaceful silence.

Seeing that she was getting no response, Ally went to the bathroom first. Lisa huffed at the petty revenge and then rolled her eyes in amusement. If she was going to be stuck in their room for the next hour she might as well continue working on her earrings.

The girl got up, stretched all of her sluggish muscles and reached under her bed, feeling blindly for her material boxes, specifically the one with unfinished projects. Its distinct dodecagonal shape made it an easy task.

Getting on her knees and dragging the large box with both of her hands, she opened the compartment closest to her and pulled out a pair of earrings made out of silver-coloured wire, with complicated twisted patterns, but clearly unfinished.

Opening the top of the box reveals an interesting looking contraption. On its base, she put one of the pieces of almost complete jewellery and inserted the thin wire into a tube on the first try.

Lisa could hear the shower in the background, but she was more focused on the current task.

Slowly, she bent each finger in a specific position, causing the joints of the machine to imitate her actions and slowly bend the metal.

She has worked on this project for years now and wanted every last detail to be perfect. This will be her present for their one-year anniversary, after all.

The fragile silver was looped in delicate circles and bent into sharp angles, leaving strategic gaps to be left alone or filled later.

She heard the shower turn off, and switched the earrings, repeating the process with a few minor differences.

After hearing the distinct poof of the curl-defining cream doing its job, Lisa packed her supplies and rehid them.

Grabbing her bathrobe, she made her way to the door just as Alya opened it, her freshly painted nails red, instead of the usual dusty purple or dark blue.

Unlike her partner, who took over an hour to get ready, she quickly freshened up and applied basic cosmetic charms in a quarter of that time.

Lisa opened the door leading to their shared room, curious about Ally's outfit of the day, she turned to look at the messier side of the room and saw her lover fixing her signature hairpin-needle into a low side bun.

Her day robe was more of a Renaissance-inspired dress, corset and all, as usual. It was a reddish-brown that complimented her nails and the ruby, with near-invisible stockings and her favourite black pull-on boots.

Alya walked up to her lover "I know I look stunning, Liz. Close your mouth before flies find their way there," and then pressed her palm under her chin to close it.

The brunette turned away to put her clothes on "It's not my fault that you're beautiful, kitten." she replied. Even with her back turned she could hear a small scoff at the nickname.

Her own outfit was much simpler, black jeans, an orange sweater and her white trainers. In any other situation, she would be underdressed for the occasion, but when it comes to Ally's decision of what 'casual clothing' is, showing up in your pyjamas won't make that much of a difference.

Alya nodded and began to revise the plan "Alright, we have a full day to explore the castle. From breakfast to lunch we stay together." she said, her tone leaving no room for questions.

"After lunch, we split up. You get any areas we didn't cover and I get the dungeons. We meet up at dinner and discuss until curfew." Lisa continued, and with a pointed look from her girlfriend she added with a pout "And leave any objects or books we may find alone…"

They both got out of the dorm and into the common room. It was mostly empty, everyone already went to the Great Hall or library.

It was obvious to the others that she took her time. Slowly walking in a circle, letting her heels click on the marble floor, she brushed one of her curls away from her face.

Alya cancelled the silencing charm, the man stopped his mumbled prayer and instead looked straight at her, straight through the obscuring charm placed on her thin veil.

"What…" he coughed "you, you shouldn't do this. It's never- never too late to seek redemption!" he said in a raspy yet desperate voice, indicating that he hasn't had a drink of water in a long time.

He kept on going, kept on begging and she kept on listening, twirling her wand in between her fingers so as to not zone out. His pleas eventually became more erratic as he started to sob. That's her signal.

She approached him and started dragging her burgundy nails down his cheeks, the action providing her with a few beads of blood.

The man continued to babble nonsense, and she was getting tired, so she conjured a needle and a thin, metal thread to do what she does best.

A small chuckle escaped her lips, amplified for the whole room to hear by a charm she didn't realise was there. The man stopped his preaching, if it can be called that, his eyes drawn to the two small objects, sudden realisation painted on his face, soon followed by horror.

That was fine, she wants this, doesn't she? Alya even asked specifically for this man.

She shook her head of distractions and started working on the bottom lip, only registering what the muggle was saying as background noise.

A simple whip stitch should do.

Her own threads tugged at the skin of her arm at the thought. She needs to replace them soon.

The soft flesh posed little resistance to the cold metal, blood making the needle slippery, and he was still trying to talk. Yell. Whichever. And cry.

…He better not get any snot on her.

She pushed that thought out of her mind. She was going to get dirty anyway. Instead of thinking about it, she distracted herself by humming a random tune under her breath.

The needlework was done before she realised it. Alya vanished the props and took a small moment to admire the result.

He was crying, his lips tugging at the wire in an attempt to talk. The man’s lower face was a gory mess and he looked up at the sky in a silent plea for mercy.

It was pathetic. It's a wonder that his progeny didn't end up a religious nut. Small mercies.

She cast the metal heating charm. Silently thanking Lisa for that one…

The guy flinched. Why would he… oh, she was baring her teeth at him. She supposes that this isn't the best moment to be thinking about her ex.

Whimp.

Alya didn't think ahead on what she should do. It seemed so far away at the time and so she couldn't bring herself to plan.

Well, it's not the first time that she had to improvise. Ten precise cutting curses cut off the top knuckle of each finger. His screams were much louder now, yet muffled by the blood in his mouth.

Then she transfigured the fleshy subs into wooden skewers and levitated each one under the nailbed of a toenail.

This was it. No masks, no pleasantries. Just her and a soon-to-be-dead body.

Her arm was trembling slightly, and her wand was covered in blood that might stain the already reddish wood.

The smell of his body fluids was making her dizzy, so she draped herself over the muggle in a suggestive way, a façade so she wouldn't lose her balance, but not making it seem that she was expecting some form of reluctance. That would be beyond stupid.

The girl tilted her head a little and took a moment for herself, and to take in his expression. Horrified confusion and something else.

Something else that she recognised. It was the same look that Hillard gave her when she followed him in that blasted. Bloody. Corridor!

She forced a laugh to hide her anger. Dirty boy, eyeing an innocent and defenceless girl like that? What would his wife say if she knew? His child?

He's still looking at her. She didn't like that. She wanted to tear his eyes out for even thinking of her like some cheap whore.

"You seem to be forgetting your position, mister." She all but snarled as she slowly dragged her thumbnails to his eyes.

His eyes widened with a new barrage of tears. She didn't give him a chance and pressed a nail under the squishy organ. It was uncomfortably warm and felt like gelatin.

A gruesome pop made the muggle scream and trash, trying to get away from her.

For the second she somehow managed to pinch the optic nerve and slowly pull it out.

She’s never held someone's eyes like this.

Alya carelessly tossed the eye mush somewhere, not caring where it landed and wiped her hand on a relatively clean patch of his shirt.

Getting up, she waved her wand in seemingly nonsensical patterns, before holding it an inch from the muggle's spine. The skin slowly started separating from his muscles.

"You know, I met your daughter," Alya said, like they were talking about the weather.

The man panicked more, proving to her that he could still hear her over the pain.

The moment before the skin gives away it gains a blackish tint from the magic. It won't let him bleed out.

"She's a bitch, honestly. Thinking that she knows better than everyone because she read it in a book once."

His screams reached a ridiculously high pitch and he was giving her a dirty look. The bastard should be glad she hadn't castrated him.

"She's made a looot of enemies, but she's too occupied being used as a fucktoy by other students to notice," she whispered in his ear.

The man was a mess. The beard that might have been immaculate at one point was matted with blood, dirty clothes and wailing into nothing like an animal on the brink of death.

-

Did she bite her tongue? Oh, the muggle finally lost his voice.

Someone was cackling, making the hairs on her neck rise. She knew that laugh.

Why was Bellatrix laughing? Well, she always laughs, but there's always a reason for it. Most of the time.

The muggle was in a worse condition than she remembered. He was still breathing, somehow, but his vocal cords have up on him at one point.

Oh. Oh dear.

She laughed under her breath—a hysterical tinge to it. Memory lapses happen under intense emotions, a side effect of accidental magic but not always accompanied by it.

Thoughts surfaced in the front of her mind, accompanied by a gentle yet firm pressure on her scar.

Do it. Do it.

He's as good as dead.

He won't provide any more entertainment.

Do it. You know how to. Do it.

Prove yourself.

"Ava-"

Her trance was broken by a loud boom coming from the hallway.