𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗘

ACT ONE, CHAPTER THREE
back to school.

PENELOPE COULDN'T SHAKE the feeling of worry about Draco for the rest of the week — which was also the last week of the summer holiday. Sure, her and her cousin didn't get along sometimes — well, most of the time — but she knew Draco. The way he was acting was very suspicious and she didn't understand what had made him so pleased when leaving Borgin and Burkes. However, she didn't settle on it for long, unlike Harry, who wanted to talk about it pretty much every waking moment. After a couple of days, Penelope, Ron, Hermione, and Venus were all pretty much past remembering it.

"Yes, I've already agreed it was fishy, Harry," Hermione said a little impatiently. She was currently sitting on the windowsill in Fred and George's room, her feet resting on one of the cardboard boxes while she read her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation. "But haven't we agreed there could be a lot of explanations?"

"Maybe he's broken his Hand of Glory," Ron suggested vaguely as he attempted to straighten the bent tail twigs of his broomstick. "Remember that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?"

"But what about when he said, Don't forget to keep that one safe?" Harry asked for what seemed like the millionth time. "That sounded to me like Borgin's got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both."

Ron was now trying to scrape some dirt off of his broom handle. "You reckon?"

"Yeah, I do." Nobody said anything for a moment, so Harry continued on. "Malfoy's father's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malfoy'd like revenge?"

Ron looked up and blinked at his best friend. "Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?"

"That's my point, I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, obviously frustrated. "But he's up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father's a Death Eater and—"

Harry suddenly broke off, his gaze fixed on the window and his mouth falling open. Venus, obviously concerned, asked what was wrong and if it was his scar hurting again.

"He's a Death Eater," Harry voiced slowly, and Penelope's eyes widened. "He's replaced his father as a Death Eater!"

"Harry, no," Penelope stated firmly. "Draco might make some questionable decisions, but I know him. He wouldn't do that." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Penelope held up her hand to stop him. "No. Trust me. You don't like him, I know, but Harry . . . this is taking it too far."

"It seems very unlikely, Harry," Hermione agreed. "What makes you think—?"

"In Madam Malkin's," Harry insisted. "She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He's been branded with the Dark Mark."

Penelope, Ron, Hermione, and Venus all looked at each other.

"Well . . ." Ron trailed off, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry," Hermione added.

Harry still obviously wanted to get his point across. "He showed Borgin something we couldn't see. Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it — he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!"

Another look was exchanged.

"I'm not sure, Harry . . ." Hermione admitted.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join . . ."

Clearly annoyed, Harry picked up a pile of dirty Quidditch robes and left the room. Venus hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to follow him. Penelope sighed as she stared at the door for a moment.

"What do you think, P?" Ron questioned to her.

Penelope shrugged. "Harry seems really convinced, but I don't know . . . it just doesn't seem right."

They were to depart the following morning, and the whole process was extremely smooth. The Ministry cars pulled up to the front of the Burrow to find them waiting. All of their trunks were packed, Crookshanks (Hermione's cat) was in a traveling basket, and their four owls (Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, Annabeth, and Aria) and Ginny's new Pygmy Puff Arnold were all waiting in cages.

After Ginny tripped Ron when he went to go say goodbye to Fleur — which made Penelope laugh all the way to the car — their group finally left the Burrow. When they arrived to King's Cross Station, they were met by two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits. They moved forward the moment the cars stopped and marched the whole group into the station without saying a word.

"Quick, quick, through the barrier," Mrs. Weasley urged. "Harry had better go first, with—"

She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors. The Auror nodded briefly, took Harry's upper arm, and attempted to steer him towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry took his arm back and walked through the barrier. The rest of the group went next, and Harry motioned to their group to follow him up the platform to look for an empty compartment.

"We can't, Harry," Hermione revealed, looking very apologetic. "Ron, Penelope, and I've got to go to the Prefects' carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Harry replied.

"I probably won't be sitting in the same compartment as you, either," Penelope voiced. "I'll most likely be with Tracey and Daphne."

Ron frowned. "You're not sitting with me?"

Penelope gave him a look. "I'll see you in the castle, Ron. I haven't seen my friends all summer — no, don't look at me like that, you'll be okay." She sighed and squeezed his arm momentarily. "I'll come visit, promise."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her watch. "You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go. Well, have a lovely term, Ron . . . you too, Ginny . . ."

Penelope smiled at the woman after she said goodbye to her children. "Thank you for letting me stay for the summer, Mrs. Weasley. I loved it."

"Of course, dear. You're welcome any time. Have a good term."

She then tugged on Ron's robe sleeve. "You ready to go?"

He nodded. Together, the two of them climbed onto the train with their trunks and owl cages. Penelope was vaguely aware of the way people were staring at her — whether it be because of her mother, the way she was with Ron, or a mixture of both, she didn't care. She was used to the stares, anyways.

They got to the Prefect carriage. Ron kissed Penelope's cheek before going to join Hermione over by the Gryffindor Prefects. Penelope joined her fellow Slytherins, but ultimately frowned upon noticing Draco wasn't there. That really confused her — last time she checked, Draco loved abusing his power of giving detention. So why wasn't he here?

Penelope's confusion only grew as time went on. Draco still hadn't shown up during the period of the Head Boy and Head Girl's instructions. Penelope already knew what she had to do — show the first years to the dungeons, patrol the corridors of the train, do rounds at night in the castle, give detentions if need be. Finally, when their meeting ended, she grabbed her trunk and Annabeth's cage and left the compartment.

"Where's Malfoy?" Ron inquired.

"Not sure," Penelope answered, still very lost. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I'll see you later, all right? I'm off to go find Tracey and Daphne."

Ron leaned down and kissed her gently. "See you soon."

Penelope then set off down the corridor. However, on the way, she spotted the one person she was looking for — Draco. Inside of the compartment was Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe reading a comic, Pansy Parkinson stroking Draco's hair while he laid his head in her lap, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Millicent Bulstrode. Penelope rolled her eyes and opened the compartment, causing all of the conversations to stop.

"Hey," Penelope announced, looking straight at Draco. "Prefect duties? You're gonna make me do them by myself?"

"Yes," Draco responded simply.

She scoffed. "You're unbelievable."

"So is you dating a Weasley," Pansy said.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, was I talking to you?" Pansy didn't answer. "Didn't think so." She nodded in greeting to some of the others in the compartment. "Blaise. Theo. Millie."

She didn't let them respond before she slammed the door shut. Now completely annoyed, she continued her trek down the corridor to find her friends. It took a couple minutes, but she finally found Tracey and Daphne sitting in a compartment together. She opened the door and set down her things as they both turned to look at her.

"Hi, Penny," Daphne greeted brightly.

"Hey you," Tracey added as Penelope sat down next to Daphne. "Have a good summer with your boyfriend?"

"It was lovely," Penelope replied. "How about your summers?"

"Boring."

"Dark," Daphne admitted. "My parents aren't Death Eaters, but there's so much talk of You-Know-Who in my Manor. I despise it. Astoria and I basically secluded ourselves so we didn't have to get involved."

Penelope frowned — it was hard seeing a literal ray of sunshine like Daphne become saddened by how grim things were. "I'm sorry, Daph."

"The world's becoming so dark already," Tracey stated. "Let's talk about something more happy, okay? At least just for a little while."

Daphne nodded. "Yeah, sure. So, Penelope . . . Ron Weasley's house?"

They spent about an hour catching up and exchanging happy stories, when suddenly, the door to the compartment opened. Penelope looked over to see a breathless third-year girl step inside.

"Hi," Penelope greeted, obviously very confused.

"I'm supposed to deliver this to Penelope L-L-Lestrange," she breathed out, her voice wavering in fear on the last name.

Penelope took the scroll of parchment tied with a violet ribbon. The girl bolted right out of the compartment. Penelope's eyebrows knit in thought as she unrolled it. She quickly read it through — it was Professor Slughorn, the same one who Harry had gone to find with Dumbledore, inviting her for lunch in compartment C.

"It's an invitation," Penelope explained. She looked up at her friends. "Ugh. Do I have to?"

"Hell yeah, you do," Tracey told her. "You're the inside scoop on our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now go — Daph and I will be okay here."

Penelope sighed. She waved goodbye before exiting the compartment and going out into the corridor. Finally, she reached compartment C only to find other people sitting in there. Penelope entered and felt all eyes on her again, but she didn't acknowledge it whatsoever. She could see Blaise, two seventh-year boys, and Ginny, looking very confused.

Slughorn — she presumed — jumped up from his seat, wearing a velvet waistcoat with golden buttons. "Ah, you must be Miss Lestrange! Come in, dear, come in — Slytherin, right? You must know Blaise."

"Hey, Blaise," Penelope said as she took the empty seat next to him. "Have a good holiday?"

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. Hey, sorry that Draco's acting like such a bitch."

"When is he not?"

"Fair enough."

Slughorn then suddenly jumped up again, and Penelope glanced over to see Harry, Venus, and Neville Longbottom entering the compartment. "Harry, m'boy! Good to seeyou, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!" Neville nodded, looking quite scared. "And you, Miss Black! Now, do you know everyone? Blaise Zabini and Penelope Lestrange are in your year, of course—"

"Oh, I know Penelope, sir," Harry admitted. "She's dating my best friend."

"Is she?" Slughorn then looked back to Penelope, who nodded. "Fantastic! This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other—? No?"

McLaggen raised a hand in greeting.

"— and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether—?"

Belby gave a strained smile.

"—and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!"

Ginny grimaced, making Penelope let out a small, quiet laugh.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn continued. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things . . . pheasant, Belby?" Belby accepted it. "I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles." Slughorn was now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large bite of pheasant. He tried to answer the question quickly, but he swallowed too fast, turned purple and began to choke. Penelope and Blaise shared a look.

Slughorn pointed his wand at him calmly. "Anapneo."

"Not . . . not much of him, no," Belby gasped.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy. I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose . . . er . . . he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about . . ."

Slughorn then turned to McLaggen instead, clearly done with Belby. "Now, you, Cormac, I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," McLaggen responded. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour — this was before he became Minister, obviously—"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too? Now tell me . . ."

Penelope now had the sudden realization. Everyone here was invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential — well, except Ginny. Blaise was interrogated next, whose mother was a famous beautiful witch who had been married seven times with each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold (Penelope had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Zabini once — that woman was a badass). Then it was Neville's turn . . . which was very uncomfortable. Neville's parents, well-known Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and some other Death Eaters.

The interrogation then segwayed onto Penelope. Slughorn was asking her about Bellatrix for a while, which she gave short answers to — she hated talking about her mother. He then got excited upon realizing she was raised by Andromeda and talked about how lovely she was.

Finally, the interview ended with Venus and Harry's interrogation. Slughorn had apparently loved Venus' parents when they went to Hogwarts, and Harry — well, it was obvious that was what Slughorn was waiting for.

"And now," Slughorn voiced, shifting to turn around in his seat. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer! The Chosen One, they're calling you now! Of course, there have been rumors for years . . . I remember when — well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary—"

Blaise let out a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to show amused skepticism. Even though Penelope was friends with Harry, Blaise obviously still didn't care for him at all — stupid Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry. Penelope rolled her eyes and elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented . . . at posing . . ." Ginny let out.

Penelope looked over at Blaise. "She's gonna fucking kill you, dude. Along with me if you do something like that again, bitch."

Slughorn chuckled and looked at Ginny. "Oh dear! You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

Penelope smiled. "What did I tell you?"

Blaise pushed her shoulder a little. "Shut up."

Slughorn then turned back to Harry. "Anyway. Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!" Harry nodded, and Slughorn beamed at him. "So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe — this fabled Prophecy, for instance—"

"We never heard a Prophecy," Neville cut in, immediately flushing red as he did so.

"That's right," Ginny agreed. "Neville, Venus, Penelope, and I were all there too, and all this Chosen One rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."

Slughorn glanced between Penelope, Neville, Venus, and Ginny with great interest. "You were both there too, were you?"

Penelope really didn't have the heart to talk about the Prophecy. That was Harry's business and Harry's business only. She also didn't want to let Ginny know that Harry actually was the Chosen One. Plus, she hated talking about that night at the Ministry. It was just reminder of what had went wrong.

"Yes . . . well . . . it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course . . ." Slughorn continued, sounding a little disappointed. " I remember dear Gwenog telling me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies)—"

He then went off on a long-winded reminiscence. The rest of the afternoon was practically the same. Slughorn told anecdotes and painted illustrations of the wizards he had taught, all of whom had been a member of what he called the Slug Club at Hogwarts. All Penelope wanted to do was go back to Tracey and Daphne, eat some dinner, and then go to sleep. Finally the train emerged into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already!" Slughorn exclaimed. "I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Blaise — any time you're passing. Same goes for you, ladies," he added to Penelope, Venus, and Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

Penelope gave her friends a quick smile before going off to join Tracey and Daphne again. While she got changed into her robes in the compartment — thanks to Tracey and Daphne blocking the door — Penelope told them everything that had happened.

The train then slowed to a stop. Penelope left her things on the train to be picked up later and filed out with the rest of the students. She instructed some first-years on where to go and helped some younger years find a carriage before getting in her own with Tracey and Daphne. The Thestrals pulled them up to the school, and Penelope got out of the carriage, looking up at the castle with a fond smile. She loved it at Hogwarts.

They all gravitated towards the Great Hall for the start of term feast. It looked just the same — the four long House tables, the staff table at the front of the room, and floating candles that made the silverware glitter and glow. The three of them found a spot towards the end of the table so it would be easier for Penelope later to call out for first years.

To be honest, Penelope wasn't really paying attention to the Sorting. The Hat sang about uniting in the face of enemies, encouraging inter-House unity, and she clapped for the new Slytherins, but other than that, her mind was drifting. She just wanted to go to sleep at this point. Then, dinner came, and that made her even more tired because of all the food she ate.

Dumbledore then got to his feet at the staff table, and all of the talk and laughter in the Hall died away almost instantly. "The very best evenings to you!"

He opened his arms wide. However, once he did so, his sleeve rolled up to reveal his right hand as blackened and dead-looking.

Penelope now felt more awake. "What the fuck?"

She was not the only one to notice. Whispers filled the Great Hall about it. Dumbledore merely shook his purple and gold sleeve back over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," Dumbledore reassured them airily. "Now . . . to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you . . ."

"That's so weird," Daphne whispered. "It looks, almost like it's . . ."

"Dead," Tracey finished, her eyebrows knit in thought. "Huh. Interesting.

". . . and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Dumbledore announced. "Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn—" Slughorn stood up "—is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

Penelope's eyes widened in realization. "No fucking way." She looked to her friends. "Oh my God, there's no way."

"Did he actually . . . ?" Daphne trailed off.

Dumbledore raised his voice. "Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry audibly shouted No! from the audience. Penelope sat there in shock. Now, after all this time? Snape raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the rest of the Slytherin table, a look of triumph on his face. Penelope clapped twice. Well, that was sure to be interesting.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to gain their attention again. "Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength." The silence in the Great Hall was strained as Dumbledore spoke. Penelope, for what felt like the millionth time, ignored the gazes on the side of her face. "I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety. But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

And as Penelope called out to the first year Slytherins to show them to the dungeons alone, she couldn't shake the feeling that this year was about to be starkly different from any year she had experienced at Hogwarts.

☆ 彡

it's been two years since I went to the wizarding world of harry potter in florida 🥲 pls give me an excuse to talk about it lol I could ramble on for DAYS

also this chapter is so bad I'm so sorry I was so tired when I wrote this