𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗟

ACT ONE, CHAPTER SIX
the defense of penelope lestrange.

PENELOPE KNEW SHE was the cause of the rift in her friend group.

Her, Pansy, Millicent, Tracey, and Daphne — they had been pretty much inseparable since day one. She means, they were practically forced to be because they shared the same dorm. Penelope was so excited to branch out and make new friends that she was sort of blind to the bullshit Pansy, and Draco for that matter, were putting everyone through.

But now that Penelope was older, she knew that the things Pansy and Draco were saying weren't right at all — stupid prejudiced bitches — and it just caused arguments whenever she told them to stop. It wasn't her fault that they just wanted to bully people for fun. Maybe her short stay at Grimmauld Place opened her eyes a lot.

Nevertheless, the group of five still traveled together throughout the corridors of Hogwarts despite the air of tension — except for those times when Pansy was still hanging off Draco's arm. Conversation didn't flow as easily as before. Mostly, all of them were just practically waiting for another argument to start up again. It definitely didn't help that Penelope had given detention to both Pansy and Millicent after the incident at the Quidditch pitch. Millicent had kind of accepted it, but Pansy? There was no way she was going to let that go.

Daphne was the first one to break the silence. "What do you think we're gonna do in Charms today?"

"Not sure, Daph," Tracey answered. "Could be the summoning charm again."

"Hopefully Umbridge will get her head out of her ass soon and actually start teaching," Penelope voiced bitterly. "Merlin knows what kind of shit the Ministry is actually putting her up to."

Pansy shrugged. "I quite like her lessons."

"Wouldn't put it past you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Guys," Millicent interrupted. "Can't we just walk to Charms in peace? Or maybe we can lock you two in a broom closet and let you scream it out yourselves?"

Daphne nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should all just have a large talk, settle our differences—"

"Lestrange," the familiar voice of Weasley suddenly called out.

Penelope stopped in her tracks and turned around with a polite smile on her face. Her smile grew just a little bit bigger at the sight of Weasley — shut the fuck up, she doesn't need anyone teasing her right now — and Hermione standing a little ways behind him.

Pansy scoffed. "Go away, Weasley. She doesn't need a blood traitor like you talking to her."

Penelope elbowed her harshly, making the girl hiss in pain. "Pansy, stop." She looked back to Weasley. "Hi, Weasley. What's up?"

"Can I — um, can I talk to you?" Weasley asked, glancing nervously at her group of friends. "Alone."

Penelope's eyebrows knit in confusion. She glanced over at Pansy and Millicent — who were giving her some weary looks — and to Tracey and Daphne — who were subtly nodding their heads to encourage her on.

"Go on without me," Penelope encouraged to her friends. "I'll catch up."

Pansy gave Weasley a harsh glare before being dragged away by Daphne. Penelope turned back to Weasley and approached him to get closer, her heart racing at the way his ears were turning as red as his hair. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and tilted her head curiously at him.

"What's going on?" Penelope questioned, her tone slightly concerned. "You okay? Did something happen with—" she lowered her voice "—Sirius?"

"No, no, he's fine," Weasley reassured her. "Uh . . . you remember how in our first Defense lesson, you said a theory wouldn't help you if your mother broke out of Azkaban?"

"Very vividly, yeah."

"Hermione and Venus came up with this idea . . . well, they were thinking . . . what if Harry taught us Defense?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Not sure if Umbridge would be too happy about that."

"We would meet in secret," Weasley revealed. "We're extending invitations out to whoever wants to hear what Harry has to say. Venus said we should invite you. Harry agreed, and I do too, so . . ."

"I was literally just saying that I hoped Umbridge would start teaching us soon, but honestly, we're probably better off with Potter as a teacher." Her smile widened. "I'm so fucking in. Where are we meeting?"

Weasley seemed relieved, because all of the tension released out of his body. "Wicked. Uh, the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade on the first weekend in October."

"Hog's Head?" Penelope repeated. "Interesting choice."

A hand was then placed on her arm, and Penelope turned to see that it was Tracey. Weasley cleared his throat and averted his gaze down to the ground.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Pen, we have to get to Charms," Tracey admitted.

Penelope nodded before glancing back to Weasley. "I'll see you there, Weasley. Bye, Hermione."

Hermione waved to her as Penelope and Tracey turned around to leave. Penelope couldn't help the way the smile wouldn't rub off her face. An invitation to a secret club from Weasley herself? It was so fucking idiotic, but she was basically over the moon.

Tracey nudged her playfully. "What was that all about?"

"Promise me you won't tell the others?" Penelope pleaded.

"Your secrets are always safe with me, Pen."

"Well, apparently Potter's having a secret club where he teaches us Defense, and they wanted me in it . . ."

"No fucking way, tell me everything . . ."

・゜・。・゜。・。・゜★

HOGSMEADE WEEKEND DAWNED upon Penelope very quickly. It was a bright and sunny day, yet a little windy, so she wrapped a Slytherin scarf around her outfit — she looked fucking great, by the way, fishnet tights underneath a green plaid skirt paired with a black turtleneck and some black combat boots — and put on her winter coat before leaving the common room.

Pansy, Tracey, Millicent, Daphne, Draco, Theodore, and Blaise — no Crabbe and Goyle, but Penelope didn't care — were already waiting for her. After a very unnecessary comment from Draco about her taking too long, their group headed off to Hogsmeade. None of them were really hungry for breakfast, so they just decided to head straight for the Three Broomsticks . . . well, besides Penelope, of course. The only one who knew where she was going was Tracey.

They walked through the village of Hogsmeade, Penelope smiling happily at the thatched cottages and shops. There was nothing quite like the village of Hogsmeade.

Tracey suddenly nudged her arm and leaned her head closer to Penelope's. "Don't you have to get going?"

"Yeah, thanks," Penelope replied. "I'll be back soon."

And, of course, nothing in Penelope's life had to go right, because all of her friends noticed her starting to wander from the group.

"Where are you going, Penny?" Daphne questioned.

The girl stopped in her tracks. She turned around to see everyone staring at her expectantly.

Penelope smiled, her excuse fresh in her mind. "I just have to go pick up a couple things for Dora. She asked me to get sine stuff for her since she's busy with the Ministry. Might take me a while, so if I don't see you at the Three Broomsticks, don't worry. It'll probably be because I took everything back and brought everything to the Owlery for Annabeth to take."

"Want one of us to come with you?" Theodore suggested. "You know, just the two of us—"

"No thanks, Theo. I'll be okay." She glanced over to Zonko's Joke Shop — where the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were standing outside — since she knew the Hog's Head was behind there. "See you all later."

She locked eyes with Tracey. Tracey merely winked and grabbed Pansy's and Daphne's arms, pulling them into the closest shop which just so happened to be Honeydukes. Millicent trailed after them, followed by Theodore and Blaise. Draco sent Penelope one last suspicious look — which she responded with a raised eyebrow — before following them as well.

Penelope let out a sigh of relief. She stuffed her hands in the pocket of her jacket and headed up the road, the fall leaves crunching underneath her boots. Just past Zonko's, she turned up a side street where a small inn stood at the top. Penelope stopped in front of the bar and stared up at it warily. The battered wood sign above the door — hanging from a rusty bracket — depicted a very graphic image of a severed boar head leaking blood onto a white cloth. Freaky. Penelope merely shook her head and entered.

However, once she entered, it suddenly felt like everyone's eyes were on her. Sitting around a table was Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley (Penelope kind of noticed him more than the others), Venus Black, Elijah Rogers, and Charlotte Thomas. Also gathered around was Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho Chang, her friend Mariette Edgecomb, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ginny Weasley, Zacharias Smith, the Weasley twins, and Lee Jordan. The only ones who really seemed to be happy Penelope was there was Hermione, Potter, Weasley, Black, Thomas, Rogers, Ginny, and the Weasley twins.

"Hi," one of the Weasley twins began (Penelope thinks it's Fred . . .) "Could we have . . . twenty-six butterbeers, please?"

The barman — who looked oddly familiar — gave him a very dirty look before proceeding with the order by grabbing dusty butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," the same twin continued, beginning to pass out the drinks. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these . . ."

Penelope dug into the pocket of her coat. She pulled out a couple of Sickles and slid them over to the Weasley twin.

"Good to see you here, Lestrange," the twin commented, handing her a butterbeer.

"Thanks, uh . . . George?" she guessed.

He placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "You've wounded me. After spending the summer together, you still can't tell us apart?"

"Sorry," Penelope apologized. "I'll make sure to get it right from now on . . . Fred."

Fred grinned at her. "That's better."

She smiled back at him and took her butterbeer over to the table. Penelope settled herself into the seat next to Chang. She crossed her leg over the other and took a sip of her butterbeer, almost sighing in content. There was nothing quite like butterbeer. However, that content began to dissipate when she felt Chang's eyes burning holes into the side of her face.

"If you want to tell me something, you might as well just say it to my face, Chang," Penelope told her casually. "Don't just stare, it's not very polite."

"Who invited you?" Chang demanded.

Penelope nodded her head at one of the Gryffindors in the front of the room. "Weasley did, but he was extending the invitation from Potter."

"Harry invited you?"

"Yes, I did," Potter stated quite strongly, making Chang's face turn scarlet as she sunk back into her chair. "If you have a problem with that, you can all leave."

No one moved. Everyone had pulled up a chair at this point around the original table with Potter and his friends. The chatter died and everyone was looking at Potter — or Penelope, but she wasn't even the only Slytherin here, so why weren't they staring at Thomas? Ugh. Nevertheless, she sent Potter a gracious smile before taking another sip of her butterbeer.

"Er," Hermione said, her voice a little high from nerves. "Well — er — hi."

Penelope nodded to her in greeting.

"Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you're here. Erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea—" Penelope saw Potter throw her a very harsh look "—I mean — I had the idea — and Venus, kind of — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us—" Hermione's voice began to get much stronger and confident "—because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts—" Goldstein let out a hear, hear, and Hermione looked pleased "—well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands." She quickly glanced at Potter before continuing. "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" Corner asked.

"Of course I do," Hermione answered immediately. Penelope looked over at Corner with a confused expression. Of course Hermione Granger wanted to pass her O.W.L.'s, anyone with eyes could see that. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ." Hermione paused to take a deep breath. "Because Lord Voldemort's back."

A very predictable reaction then occurred. Edgecomb spilled her butterbeer down the front of herself after letting out a shriek, Boot's eye twitched, Patil shuddered, and Longbottom yelped before crouching at the look Thomas was giving him. Everything made Penelope roll her eyes. How pathetic, it was just a name.

"Well . . . that's the plan anyway," Hermione admitted. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to l—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" Smith questioned.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it—"

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," he corrected, pointing right at Harry.

Black's eyes narrowed at him. "Sorry, who are you?"

"Zacharias Smith, and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look, that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—" Hermione began.

"It's okay, Hermione," Potter reassured her. He looked at Smith straight in the face, and Penelope smirked a little to herself at how she could practically tell Black's mind was going haywire. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts," Smith responded dismissively. "He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"So you don't know how an Avada Kedavra works?" Penelope inquired bitterly. "Maybe you should read up on it, then. And if you've only come here to discuss Cedric Diggory, you can get your ass up and leave. I've come here to learn defensive spells to protect myself, not to talk about death."

Silence rang throughout the bar.

"So," Hermione voiced after a couple of seconds in that same high-pitched tone. "So . . . like I was saying . . . if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"

"Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?" Bones interrupted, staring right at Potter.

"Yeah," Potter confirmed, slightly defensively, over the murmurs of interest.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

Bones grinned at him. "She's my auntie. I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes."

"Blimey, Harry!" Jordan exclaimed, looking very impressed — Penelope agreed, she was also impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," Fred (Penelope's fucking got it now, go her!) explained. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," Potter mumbled, and Penelope shook her head while smiling amusement — trying to ignore the weird stares she got (oh my God, a Slytherin like her, smiling?)

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Boot demanded. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . ."

"Er — yeah, I did, yeah."

"And in our first year, he saved that Sorcerous Stone—" Longbottom announced.

"Sorcerer's," Hermione corrected.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who."

Cho smiled at Potter prettily, which made his cheeks turn a slight shade of red — Penelope frowned upon noticing how Black's mood deflated at this. "And that's not to mention, all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past dragons and Merpeople and Acromantulas and things . . ."

Talk of excitement filled the Hog's Head. Penelope didn't engage in that conversation and continued to drink her butterbeer. Might as well enjoy it here if she was going to the Three Broomsticks.

"Look," Potter voiced, and everyone fell silent. "I . . . I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but . . . I had a lot of help with all that stuff . . ."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," Corner countered. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying . . ."

"Yeah, well—"

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," Bones added.

"No, no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Smith inquired.

At this point, Penelope had enough of this bitch. She slammed her empty butterbeer glass on the table — not hard enough to break it, of course — and gave him a harsh look, making everyone jump.

"Why don't you shut up?" Penelope asked loudly. "I've had enough of your bullshit for probably the rest of my life."

Smith glared back at her. "Who are you to say anything? You're the enemy, anyways."

Penelope crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm someone who can kick your ass in the span of five seconds, but I'm not going to because I'm nice. But here's one question for you — are you against only or me or against my House as a whole, Smith?"

He sent her a confused look. "What are you talking about, Lestrange?"

She rolled her eyes. "You think I'm evil because I'm a Slytherin — which doesn't make sense, because you don't have a problem with Thomas — or because of my last name. Maybe a little bit of both, even. But let me tell you one thing — I am not Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson or anyone else who has given any of you a hard time, I am not my mother because Bellatrix is a fucking psychopath, and I am most certainly not Voldemort." Penelope chose to ignore the collective student from everyone around her and continued. "Every one of those people have given Slytherin House a bad representation, but you're basing your perception on me just because of a stereotype you've created in your head. Have you ever met me personally, Smith? Because I don't think we've ever engaged in a conversation before the one we're having right now. So before you go running your mouth about how I'm the enemy, you should think again, because you know nothing about me."

Smith's face turned red from anger. "It seems like you're all buddy-buddy with everyone now, but not me. Why are you even here? I mean, you're a Lestrange. You'll probably abandon our side once your mummy breaks out of Azkaban."

Penelope froze, her eyes turning as hard as steel as she stood up slowly from her chair. "Say it again." Her teeth were gritted, and Smith's eyes were wide as he watched her. "Say it again and see what happens."

"Lestrange—" Weasley protested, his voice panicked.

Smith scoffed, obviously trying to get over his fear. "You can't do anything, you're just a girl."

This time, Penelope didn't respond. It was actually the Weasley twins who intervened.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George (she's got it now!) offered, pulling a long and lethal metal instrument out of his Zonko's bag.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," Fred continued.

"Yes, well, moving on . . ." Hermione stated quickly, and Penelope sat back down, obviously annoyed now. What a dick. "The point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

Everyone gave out a murmur of general agreement. Smith crossed his arms and said nothing, but it was more because he was trying not to look at Penelope and was keeping an eye on the instrument in George's hand.

"Right. Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

"Hang on, we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice," Johnson revealed.

"No, nor with ours," Chang agreed.

"Nor ours," Smith added.

Hermione looked very impatient now. "I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters—"

"Well said!" Macmillan shouted. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.'s coming up!" Penelope saw Rogers give out a little shudder — Merlin, that boy was so obsessed with studying. "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—"

"Hermione and I were discussing this the other day," Black admitted. "The two of us think that Umbridge has this crazy idea that Dumbledore could use the students at Hogwarts to create a private army and mobilize us against the Ministry."

Penelope blinked. Well, wasn't that just bullshit.

"Well, that makes sense," Lovegood voiced. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" Potter inquired.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, he has."

Longbottom looked positively blank — as did Penelope, but she never was prepared for anything that came out of Lovegood's mouth. "What are Heliopaths?"

"They're spirits of fire," Lovegood explained, her pale eyes widening. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—"

"They don't exist, Neville," Hermione cut in tartly.

"Oh yes they do!"

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?"

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—"

"Hem, hem," Ginny interrupted — imitating Umbridge — before laughing. Penelope definitely had to give her props on her Umbridge impression, because it was nearly spot on. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes, yes, we were, you're right . . ." Hermione responded.

"Well, once a week sounds cool," Jordan agreed.

"As long as—" Johnson began.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," Hermione replied, her voice tense. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet . . ."

This was clearly more difficult. Penelope stared at the floor in thought, thinking about this whole thing. Her friends would definitely get suspicious . . . maybe she would just say she's studying by herself. Yeah, that would work.

"Library?" Bell suggested after a couple of moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," Potter countered.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" Thomas (Dean, not Charlotte) questioned.

"Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard . . ." Weasley responded.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," Hermione told them. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag before hesitating. "I — I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."

Hermione signed the list first. Then it was Weasley, then Potter, then Black, then Thomas. Thomas offered the parchment to Penelope, who took it. She stared down at it for a moment. Was this really the right choice?

Eh, Penelope thought to herself. Fuck it. Aunt Andromeda, Uncle Ted, and Nymphadora would be proud.

She pressed the quill onto the parchment and signed Penelope Lestrange.

Penelope handed the parchment to Fred. He cheerfully signed his name, but as more people signed, several of the others looked not very happy about the idea of putting their names on a list.

"Er . . ." Smith trailed off slowly, not taking the parchment George was attempting to pass to him. "Well . . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

Macmillan also looked hesitant. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I — well, we are Prefects," Macmillan insisted. "And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out . . ."

"Hey, Ernie, Prefect to Prefect," Penelope interjected, leaning forwards to look at him better. "Didn't you say that this group was the most important thing you'd do this year?"

"I — yes, I do believe that, it's just . . ."

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" Hermione questioned testily.

"No. No, of course not." Macmillan looked less anxious now. "I — yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised any objections after Macmillan. When the last person — Smith, naturally — had signed, Hermione slipped the piece of parchment carefully into her bag. There was an odd sort of feeling in the group now. It was almost like they had just signed a contract . . .

Oh wait, Penelope thought to herself. We literally just did.

Fred was the first to get to his feet. "Well, time's ticking on. George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

Slowly, the group left in twos and threes. Penelope stood up from her chair and walked up closer to the table, wanting to say something to Potter and maybe Weasley before she left.

"Hey, Potter," Penelope voiced, making him turn his head away from looking at Black, which made her smirk a little. "I just wanted to thank you, for doing this whole thing. Seriously, I mean it. I think it's really cool how you're agreeing to teach us. Even a Slytherin with a last name like mine."

"Don't worry about it, Lestrange," Potter replied. "And it's just like you said this summer. Just because you're related to Bellatrix by blood doesn't mean you're family."

She smiled at him. "You know what . . . you can call me Penelope, Harry."

His green eyes glittered. "Will do."

"And Weasley," Penelope continued, turning to the boy, her heart racing slightly. "Thanks for extending the invitation. I think you shocked Pansy a little by coming up to me like that in the hallway."

Weasley chuckled, his cheeks turning a little red as he looked down at the floor for a moment. "Yeah, but I think you shocked everyone by telling off Smith like that. Bloody hell, it was incredible."

"Appreciate it. Stone cold bitch Penelope can make an appearance sometimes."

"You're not stone cold." Weasley finally looked up at her. "Far from it, Lestrange."

She grinned, her heart beating erratically against her chest in an infuriating way. "I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

Penelope waved at him and his friends before leaving the Hog's Head, completely unaware that the smile on Weasley's face was as big as hers.

☆ 彡

go off penelope ig