𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗟

ACT ONE, CHAPTER TWO
the noble and most ancient
house of black . . . or some shit
like that.

SOMEHOW, PENELOPE GOT dragged into cleaning. She stood in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place after breakfast, one of her old Slytherin scarves around her nose and mouth and a bottle of Doxycide in her hand. Even though half of her fast was covered, anyone could easily tell that she was completely annoyed. All she wanted was a slow morning like she had all summer. But no. Mrs. Weasley had woken them up at promptly seven o'clock, saying there were more Doxies than she thought and that there was a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa. Lovely.

"Why the long face, Lestrange?" one of the Weasley twins asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he appeared next to him. "Do you not clean at home being the princess you are?"

The other twin appeared on her other side. "No, George. She's obviously a queen, so she doesn't have to do anything."

Penelope glared at them, bringing her scarf down so she could talk — she obviously knew they were joking, but she really wasn't in the mood. "Of course I clean at home, dumbasses. I'm just not in the mood to clean Doxies out of this pathetic excuse of a house." She then looked to Mrs. Weasley, who was telling Potter and Weasley what to do. "You know, Mrs. Weasley, I could just tell Kreacher to clean the Doxies out. He'd probably listen to me."

Granger sent her a reproachful look. "Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage—"

"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione," Sirius cut in, walking into the room with a bloodstained bag of dead rats. He noticed Potter's inquiring look. "I've just been feeding Buckbeak. I keep him upstairs in my mother's bedroom. Anyway . . . this writing desk . . ."

He dropped the bag of rats onto an armchair before inspecting the locked cabinet. It was shaking slightly like something wanted to get out.

Sirius peered through the keyhole. "Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a Boggart, but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out — knowing my mother it could be something much worse."

"Right you are, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley replied.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. Their voices were carefully light and polite. It was obvious that neither of them had forgotten their disagreement the night before.

A loud, clanging bell then sounded from downstairs. It was followed at once by Mrs. Black screeching and wailing, just like she had done last night because Nymphadora knocked over the umbrella stand. Penelope rolled her eyes. Oh, she was so over it.

"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" Sirius exclaimed exasperatedly before hurrying back out of the room.

"Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth . . ." Mrs. Black listed off.

"Close the door, please, Harry," Mrs. Weasley instructed.

Potter took his sweet time closing the door. It was obvious he wanted to hear what was going on, but he finally closed it as Mrs. Weasley stared at him.

Mrs. Weasley was bent over Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests (seriously? that guy?), reading up on a page about Doxies. "Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxies bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it."

Penelope pulled her scarf back up over her nose. Mrs. Weasley straightened up and positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains. She beckoned them forwards. Everyone gathered by her. Penelope was immediately met with the thought that her and Weasley's shoulders were touching (wait . . . why was that detail important?)

"When I say the word, start spraying immediately. They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyze them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket." She then stepped to the right, and all of them raised their sprays. "All right — squirt!"

It nearly took all morning to de-Doxy the curtains. Mrs. Weasley had removed her protective scarf when it was past midday. While she screamed about sitting on the bag of dead rats, Penelope lowered her Slytherin scarf. She breathed in the air that smelled strongly of Doxycide. The curtains were no longer buzzing and were now hanging limp and damp from the intensive spraying. Unconscious Doxies laid crammed in the bucket at the foot of the curtains with a bowl of their black eggs.

"I think we'll tackle those after lunch," Mrs. Weasley announced.

She pointed to the dusty glass-fronted cabinets that stood on either side of the mantelpiece. They were stuffed with a weird assortment of objects — a selection of rusty daggers, some claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Penelope did not understand, and Penelope's personal favorite, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper full of a red liquid she was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang once more. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley.

"Stay here," Mrs. Weasley stated firmly, picking up the bag of rats as Mrs. Black began to screech again. "I'll bring up some sandwiches."

She left the room and closed the door behind her. While everyone else rushed to the door to see who had come in, Penelope crossed her arms and leaned against the armchair of the couch. To be honest, she really didn't care who was at the door. She just wanted whoever had rung the doorbell to come inside so that Mrs. Black could shut up.

"Mundungus!" Granger exclaimed. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," Potter answered. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" one of the twins agreed. "Blimey, Mum won't like that . . ."

They pressed closer to the door. Thankfully, Mrs. Black stopped screaming. Penelope let out a breath of relief. Thank God.

"Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley. Can't hear properly . . . d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"Might be worth it," the other twin said. "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair—"

All of that was thrown out the window as Mrs. Weasley's screams traveled up the stairs. Penelope's eyes widened and she stood up straighter, her eyebrows knitting in concern. She made her way over to the door and pushed her way between the Weasley twins. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was yelling at Mundungus, who was indeed bringing in a lot of cauldrons.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," one of the twins admitted with a smile. Penelope looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, making him shrug. "It makes such a nice change."

"—COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE—"

"The idiots are letting her get into her stride," the other twin added, shaking his head. "You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry — and there goes Sirius' mum again—"

Penelope sighed at the sound of all the portraits shrieking. "I'll go calm her down."

She pushed through the crowd at the door and exited the room. Penelope passed by the old House-Elf Kreacher, who was mumbling about filth in the house or whatever prejudiced things he wanted to talk about. She ignored him and made her made her way over to the ugly portrait of Mrs. Black. Mrs. Black immediately silenced at the sight of her.

"Bellatrix!" Mrs. Black wailed, and Penelope tried her very hardest not to wince. "Get all of this filth out of my house!"

"Uh, I'm not Bellatrix, Mrs. Black," Penelope told her. "I'm actually her daughter, Penelope."

Mrs. Black let out a little sigh at the sound of her name. "I heard of your birth before I died! Surely a Pureblood like you can make this house clean once more!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Black," Penelope responded instead of saying why don't you shut the fuck up and stop being prejudiced. "But how about we have a conversation to help cheer you up? What makes you happy?"

"Obedient Pureblood children!"

Penelope blinked. "Well, that's a strong opinion. However, I think we both have something that makes us happy."

"How can I be happy in this house full of filth—?"

"Slytherin."

Mrs. Black silenced at that, her eyes softening a bit from her portrait. "The best House!"

"I agree," Penelope revealed with a small laugh. "I wouldn't have met all of my best friends if I wasn't in Slytherin."

"I expect you are only making friends with the best—"

Now that Mrs. Black was calm, Penelope took the curtains in her hands and yanked them shut. She shook her head, muttering about how stupid her ideals were. Penelope made her way back to the room they had been cleaning only to see that the door was closed. She shrugged and opened the door anyways to see Sirius and the others staring at quite a large trapesty that was hanging from the length of the wall.

Penelope closed the door and made her way over, crossing her arms as she stopped in her place next to Weasley. She felt her gaze on him and turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Just like yesterday, his cheeks turned as red as his hair and he looked away. She shook her head and looked back to the tapestry.

The tapestry looked immensely old. It was faded and looked like some Doxies had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread it was embroidered with still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling family tree. Penelope's eyes trailed to the top of the tapestry.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
"Toujours Pur"

"Of course she would have a tapestry of Pureblood families, 'cause that's completely normal," Penelope commented in annoyance, making Sirius chuckle at her.

"You're not on here!" Potter exclaimed.

Sirius pointed to a hole in the tapestry that reminded Penelope of a cigarette burn. "I used to be there. My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home — Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

"You ran away from home?"

"When I was about sixteen. I'd had enough."

"Where did you go?" Potter questioned.

"Your dad's place." Sirius' eyes got far away, obviously reminiscing on those days. "Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold — he's been wiped off here too, that's probably why — anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter's for Sunday lunch, though."

"But . . . why did you . . . ?"

"Leave?" Sirius repeated, smiling bitterly as he ran a hand through his hair. "Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their Pureblood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal."

Penelope shrugged. "I would leave too."

Sirius nodded to her and pointed to another name on the tapestry. "My idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . that's him."

Regulus Black

His name was at the very bottom of the tree. His date of death, fifteen years or so ago, was followed by the date of his birth.

"He was younger than me and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded," Sirius added.

"But he died," Potter said bluntly, and Penelope resisted the urge to facepalm.

Sirius sighed. "Yeah. Stupid idiot . . . he joined the Death Eaters."

"You're kidding!"

Sirius looked at him incredulously, and Penelope did as well. "Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?"

"Were — were your parents Death Eaters as well?" Potter inquired.

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting grid of Muggle-borns and having Purebloods in charge. They weren't alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things . . . they got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first."

Penelope looked up at him. "If you don't mind me asking, how did he die?"

"He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."

Penelope frowned. That seemed like an awful way to live, but yet again, that was how Bellatrix lived. Still to this day, she wondered how her mother went so batshit crazy.

"Lunch," Mrs. Weasley voiced.

Everyone turned. She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray full of sandwiches and a cake on its tip. She still looked extremely pissed off. The others went to get some food, but for some reason, Penelope couldn't bring herself to move away from the huge tapestry. She stayed with Sirius and Potter, staring at the tapestry in fascination as Sirius rambled off about his family members.

"I haven't looked at this for years," Sirius admitted. "There's Phineas Nigellus . . . my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular headmaster Hogwarts ever had . . . and Araminta Meliflua . . . cousin of my mother's . . . tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal . . . and dear Aunt Elladora . . . she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays . . . of course, anytime the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her — he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him. . . ."

"You and Tonks are related?" Potter asked in surprise.

"Oh yeah, her mother, Andromeda, was my favorite cousin," Sirius said, making a small smile appear on Penelope's face at the thought of her aunt. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look—" He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa. "Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so—"

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Penelope tilted her head in thought as she looked a little farther ways down the tapestry. She saw someone named Atlas Black, his name linked to Mary Rosier by a double line of gold embroidery. A single vertical line of gold led from their names to another, which read Venus Black. Penelope's eyebrows knit together. She had never heard of anyone named Atlas, Mary, or Venus.

"You're related to the Malfoys!" Potter suddenly exclaimed.

Penelope followed his gaze. Sure enough, a gold line led to Draco Malfoy from the names Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. Her smile widened just the tiniest bit. Sure, Draco could be an annoying git at times (okay, maybe all the time), but the two had been close ever since they both started going to Hogwarts.

"The Pureblood families are all interrelated," Sirius explained. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry Purebloods your choice is very limited, there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. But there's no point looking for them on here — if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys."

Potter was now staring straight at the name reading Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange. "Lestrange . . ." He looked over to her, but she didn't quite meet his gaze as her blood ran cold. "Your name is on here, too . . . they were talking yesterday about Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban, and you mentioned how your mother might escape."

Penelope nodded, picking at a loose string on her sweater. "If anyone's going to break out of Azkaban to aid Voldemort, it's Bellatrix Lestrange. I've never met her, though. She got locked up when I was two for torturing people to insanity with my father Rodolphus, Barty Crouch Junior, and my Uncle Rabastan." She let out a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. Just because we're related by blood doesn't mean we're family. She's done so many horrible things and I'm not proud to be her daughter whatsoever."

The two were then silent. Penelope's eyes narrowed, using her finger to trace the vertical line down from Bellatrix's name to her own name, Penelope Lestrange. She removed her hand and stared at the tapestry in disgust. Penelope didn't want to be on this tapestry. Sure, being a Pureblood could give her protection in the upcoming war (come on, whoever says that there's not going to be a war is lying to themselves), but she didn't believe in their morals. Every person on this tapestry — minus the ones who had been blasted off — thought they were so much better than everyone else, including Draco. Penelope didn't agree. Also, it was just a reminder that her actual mother was still alive and cared more about Voldemort than her.

Penelope frowned. She didn't like this at all.

・゜・。・゜。・。・゜★

FINALLY, IT WAS the last day of the summer holidays. The group at Grimmauld Place (adding Nymphadora sometimes, which boosted Penelope's mood) had finished cleaning the house, and Potter was cleared of all charges at his Ministry hearing earlier in the month (well, of course he was, he's Harry Potter.)

Penelope was currently sitting in the kitchen, writing a letter to Andromeda. She could hear the others talking upstairs, but Penelope didn't care to join them this time. Mrs. Weasley then burst into the room. Penelope looked up while placing her quill down to see Mrs. Weasley with a happy face holding a letter.

"Book lists have arrived!" Mrs. Weasley announced, handing the letter to Penelope who responded with a quiet thank you. "Ron and Hermione are Gryffindor Prefects, can you believe it?"

She could believe Hermione (first name basis now!), got Prefect — obviously, that was bound to happen — but Weasley? Penelope was so sure that it would've been Potter. Nevertheless, she thought Weasley deserved it . . . she definitely wouldn't say that out loud, though.

Penelope opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and began to read. There was the standard paragraph reminding the students that term started on September first and the list of books. However, an extra paragraph on the first piece of parchment made her completely freeze. Penelope's eyes widened as she read it over, one word sticking out to her tremendously.

"Prefect?" she whispered.

An object then fell into her palm. She stared down at it incredulously, her mind swirling with shock. Sure enough, it was a Prefect badge. A large silver P was superimposed on the Slytherin snake while the rest of the background was an emerald green. Penelope held it up, and Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek of joy.

"You too!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, making Penelope shake herself out of her shock. "Oh, I'm so proud of all three of you! Well, I better be going to Diagon Alley. I need to pick up Ron a new broom and also get everybody's books."

She finally looked to the woman and smiled softly. "Um, if you need to get any gold from my vault, use the Tonks one, not the Lestrange one. Trust me. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

Penelope abandoned her letter and walked up the stairs. On the way, she passed Weasley, who looked immensely excited as he ran down the steps. She looked over at him, and for a moment, everything went in slow motion. Their eyes locked before abandoning each other's and going their separate ways. Penelope's eyebrows knit in confusion. That was strange.

She went to go up to her room, but something stopped her. Inside of Potter and Weasley's room was Potter, who was staring at the floor in a crestfallen manner. Penelope tilted her head and leaned against the door frame while crossing her arms.

"You're upset," she announced.

Potter's head snapped up, and his gaze went from the floor to her. "W-What?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "You're upset that Weasley got Gryffindor Prefect instead of you."

"That's not true," Potter argued. He then noticed the badge in her hand and groaned. "Don't tell me you got it, too?"

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I did happen to get Slytherin Prefect, but let's not turn the conversation on me. Potter, do you really want to be Gryffindor Prefect? I mean, no offense, but you've never had much luck following the rules."

He shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I was hoping I could get at least some recognition from Dumbledore. He hasn't talked to me at all throughout the summer. He also pretty much ignored me at my hearing."

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Potter," Penelope stated firmly. "Let Weasley have the spotlight once. Didn't you say you never wanted any of the fame?" He nodded. "So what's the big deal of not getting Prefect?"

Weasley then came back bursting into the room. His happy expression melted slightly once he noticed the two of them. He looked in between them suspiciously, not saying anything for a long moment.

Penelope offered a small smile to Potter. "Think it over. Maybe you'll realize I'm right." She nodded once to his friend. "Weasley. Congrats on Prefect."

He blinked at her, obviously dumbfounded. "Uh . . . thanks, Lestrange. Mum said you got Prefect, too — for Slytherin, I mean — so, um . . . congratulations."

"Thanks. I'll see you two at dinner."

She turned and went back up the stairs, leaving Potter and Weasley behind. Penelope entered the room she had been sharing with Hermione and Ginny (first name basis with her now, too!) and flopped on the bed, looking intently up at the ceiling. She would never show it, but she was filled with nerves. Why was she chosen to be Prefect? Well, she guesses it's better than some other fifth year Slytherin girls getting the title and abusing it (she's talking straight to Pansy Parkinson — they were friends, but God, that girl . . .), but was Penelope Lestrange really the best choice? If anyone, it should've been Penelope's very best friend, Tracey Davis. She was responsible and smart . . .

Penelope sighed. Whatever. She looked down at her trunk. It was time to pack, anyways.

A couple of hours of procrastinating, overthinking, trying to find her belongings all over the house, and talking with Hermione briefly about their Prefect duties for tomorrow, Penelope was almost done with gathering herself together. Her Prefect badge was already pinned to her Slytherin robes so she wouldn't lose it.

She was the only one left in the room now. Penelope sat on the floor in front of her trunk, packing away a folded up denim jacket, before she heard a knock. She turned her head and looked at the door.

"Come in," Penelope called. The door opened to reveal the Weasley twins holding a large stack of books. "What's up?"

"Mum's throwing a party downstairs—" one of the twins began.

"—for the new Prefects—" the other continued.

"—including you."

Penelope smiled and stood up. "That's very sweet of her. Tell her I'll be down soon, I just have to finish packing my trunk really quick." She took the books from their arms since it had a note saying Penelope on top of it. "And thank you for bringing me my books. I appreciate it."

One of the twins stared at her curiously. "You know, you say thank you more than the average Slytherin. Now that I think about it, you're the only Slytherin I've heard say that."

"Yeah, well, that's because I grew up with manners instead of believing I was superior because of my last name. It's only up to me now to break the Slytherin stereotype." She let out a breath for a second. "So, uh, I'll see you two down there."

The twins left, closing the door behind them. Penelope turned back around and set her books neatly in her trunk. She could hear people cheering from downstairs and her heart filled with a tiny bit of sadness. Penelope had never really fit in here over the summer because she was surrounded by so many bloody Gryffindors. Seriously, their courage and chivalry could get to be a little much at times.

Penelope sighed, shaking off the thought as she picked up a spare Slytherin tie off the floor. She had made good friends with Ginny and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had treated her like one of her own children. There was really no reason to be sad, but she could tell that everyone was still a little wary of her because one, her mother, and two, she was a Slytherin.

She went to go put the tie in her trunk when she heard loud sobs coming from the drawing room on the floor below her room. Penelope's eyebrows knit in confusion and she set the tie down. She exited the room and went down the steps to the first landing. Penelope cautiously approached the door to the drawing room. The sobs were getting louder. She pulled her wand out of her back pocket — okay, she knows she's not allowed to use underage magic, but it's just in case — and opened the door.

The sight nearly made her gasp. Mrs. Weasley was cowering against the wall, her wand in her hand and her entire body shaking with sobs. Ron Weasley's dead body was sprawled out on the carpet in a patch of moonlight. For some reason, it made Penelope's heart twist. Her mind raked for any possibility that this couldn't be real . . . but then she remembered Mrs. Weasley saying something to Sirius about a Boggart a couple of weeks ago . . .

"Mrs. Weasley," Penelope said soothingly. "Hey, Mrs. Weasley, it's okay. It's not real."

"R-R-Riddikulus!'' Mrs. Weasley exclaimed through a sob, pointing her shaking wand at the body.

Crack.

Ron's body then turned into Bill Weasley's body, who was spread out on his back with his empty eyes wide open. Mrs. Weasley let out a great sob and pointed her wand at the Boggart again.

"R-Riddikulus!"

Crack.

It then turned into Mr. Weasley. His glasses were askew and a trickle of blood was running down his face.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "No . . . Riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!"

Crack. Dead Weasley twins. Crack. Dead Percy Weasley. Crack. Dead Ginny Weasley. Crack. Dead Hermione Granger. Crack. Dead Harry Potter. Crack. Dead . . . Penelope Lestrange?

"Mrs. Weasley," Penelope voiced softly, stepping closer to the Boggart.

That was probably the stupidest fucking thing she could've done, because now instead of the Boggart showing Mrs. Weasley's biggest fear, it showed Penelope's. She watched as her own dead body swirled into a tall woman wearing tight black clothes. Her unruly black hair was the most prominent feature about her, and her dark, lidded eyes were staring at Penelope in disgust yet were also lit with crazed excitement. The woman cackled and raised her wand.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Penelope's eyes widened and her heart clenched with fear. She took a step back, her breaths becoming labored as she stared at her mother. Penelope's hand curled around her wand tighter so that her knuckles were turning white. She didn't even hear the door open to reveal Lupin, Sirius, and Mad-Eye Moody because she was so frozen. The next thing she knew, Bellatrix swirled into the figure of a moon.

"Riddikulus!" Lupin stated firmly, just like he had instructed Penelope to do in class two years ago.

The moon turned into a puff of smoke. Lupin went to go console a crying Mrs. Weasley, but Penelope didn't move. All she did was continue to stare at the place where her mother — even if she wasn't real — had stood.

Sirius placed his hand on her shoulder. "You all right, Penelope?"

"I don't want her to come back," Penelope admitted quietly. "She's crazy, she's so fucking insane . . . God knows what she'd do to me if she escaped." She then realized she said too much and she cleared her throat, looking around the room. "Um, I need to go finish packing my trunk."

"Penelope—"

"Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

Penelope left the room quickly, sped up the stairs, and made her way to hers. She shut the door behind her and sunk to the floor, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on some of her jeans. A multitude of thoughts swirled in her head — one of Mrs. Weasley's biggest fears being Penelope dead along with her family, Bellatrix being Penelope's biggest fear even though back in third year it was Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora leaving her behind, her admitting her deepest feelings to Sirius . . .

She wasn't even at school yet and she could already feel stress weighing her down. Not to mention Bellatrix was haunting her all the way from Azkaban ever since Potter claimed Voldemort was back that night of the third task. And who would've thought she would make friends with Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley? Her friends would definitely thing she was out of her God damn mind, but she honestly didn't care.

Penelope sighed and rested her chin on top of her knee. Fucking hell, this was going to be an interesting year.

☆ 彡

y'all I love this story stop it rn