The Black Legacy Azkaban's Em...

Druella held Morgana close as she walked to Narcissa's new class, Magical Heritage and Defense. She'd heard the rumors and protests from students who missed Muggle Studies, though Druella doubted anyone would say that to her face. Even Druella felt a pang of nerves, wondering how Narcissa would approach a class that replaced such a contentious subject. This is the first class but every Friday the year will have this class. Narcissa is doing this to start the class so everyone knows the structure. "Morgana stay close we must be careful now." Druella whispered to her. Holding her "We must do our best now." Druella reminded her she kept a close watch.

As Druella reached the classroom, all of Third Year was here as expected Hermione approached her. "Druella," she said, her face thoughtful. "What do you think about the class?"

Druella shifted Morgana in her arms, keeping her expression neutral. "I'm... interested to see what it's about."

Hermione hesitated. "I don't agree with Headmistress Malfoy removing Muggle Studies," she said softly.

Druella stood with an air of conviction, her beliefs about Muggles clear and unwavering. "Hermione, you know my stance on this matter," she declared, her voice firm. Hermione, however, shook her head in disappointment. "You should at least try to understand why people feel frustrated about it," she urged, trying to appeal to Druella's sense of empathy.

Druella decided to dismiss the conversation, her expression growing stern. "Let's just head to class," she insisted, eager to move on. 

"Okay, but we definitely can't ignore this subject," Hermione replied, her determination evident. Druella bit her tongue, suppressing her initial urge to debate further, knowing that it wasn't the right time or place.

At that moment, Harry and Ron approached, disrupting the tension between the two girls. Ron eyed Morgana with visible unease. "Let's see how she 'teaches' this new class," he muttered under his breath, skepticism lining his words.

Morgana, ever-spirited and unapologetically feisty, fixed her gaze on the rat peeking out from Ron's pocket. Druella felt a wave of tension wash over her and tightened her grip on Morgana, who seemed ready to pounce. "Not now, Morgana. We're in class; you can handle him later. Or wait until dinner when I'll have your favorite for you," Druella whispered, attempting to calm her companion. Morgana's claws lightly snagged on Druella's sleeve, her agitation palpable.

"Get your cat under control," Ron said with a hint of annoyance as his own pet skittered back into the safety of his pocket, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation brewing between the magical creatures. 

"She's fine," she replied, giving Morgana a gentle pat. "Stop attacking I don't care if you do it outside of class but do it when he's not looking. Crookshanks isn't here for you to play with." Druella whispered to her. Morgana purred and Druella stroked her slowly. Druella ignored Draco's sneer as he entered, walking straight up to Hermione and me. "Filthy Mudblood," he spat, his voice a venomous whisper.

Hermione flinched, and Harry shot him a furious glare. "No one asked you, Malfoy!"

Draco turned to Druella, a hurt edge in his voice. "Druella, say something! Why are you even talking to them?"

Druella cast her gaze away, deliberately maintaining her composure. "I don't care," she replied flatly, the edge in her voice betraying her irritation. Morgana, sitting nearby, purred softly, keenly aware of Druella's annoyance and pleased with the unspoken tension in the air.

Draco shot her a glare, clearly expecting her to come to his defense. Instead, Druella spoke up, her voice steady. "That's for calling me Goldilocks and Dolly. Honestly, Goldilocks isn't even a clever nickname. I'm not blonde like you, Draco." He scoffed, a smug expression crossing his face. "Well, you certainly think you're perfect, don't you?"

Druella rolled her eyes in response, her patience wearing thin. "Oh please. At least I don't run to my father every time I face a little trouble. My mother is just as wealthy and far more intimidating than that manchild you call a father. But you don't see me whining to her every time I need a little sympathy, do you?"

Draco scoffed again, shaking his head. "You probably should, especially considering Pansy's constant bullying." Druella fell silent, refusing to engage.

"Don't ignore me, Druella. I know what Pansy says to you behind your back. You need to talk to someone about this—it's getting serious. Blaise told me you've been sleeping on the couch in the common room or huddled up in a corner when you think no one is looking. You can't hide forever; you will have to tell her," Draco pressed on, his tone shifting to a more concerned pitch. "You know she will help you."

Druella continued to ignore him, focusing on a distant point rather than acknowledging his words. "Druella, you can't keep this bottled up forever. Aunt Bella is going to find out eventually. You need to stop pretending that you're unbreakable and allow the family to support you," Draco urged, his brow furrowing with concern.

Before Druella could muster a response, Hermione moved closer, grabbing Druella's arm gently but firmly to turn her around. "Leave her alone," she said in a low voice, an unmistakable authority in her tone that made it clear she would not stand for Draco's relentless inquiries.

Druella shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking nervously to her aunt, who, though not present yet, still loomed large in her mind. She leaned in closer to the trio, her voice a whisper of caution. "Alright, just so you three know, when she comes, you must stand up. She told me in her office. My aunt will want that as respect—for as we know, she's someone you do not want to mess with," Druella said, her body language tense. She had seen the consequences of crossing Narcissa too many times not to know the weight behind her words.

Ron rolled his eyes from the other side. "Oh, please, your aunt wants 'respect'? How foolish."

Druella pressed her lips tightly together, warning him with a sharp, almost pleading look. "No, don't say that. You know how she is."

Ron chuckled in response. "Yes, and you being her Pureblood Princess," he said, nudging her with his elbow.

Druella's cheeks flushed, embarrassed, but also clearly uncomfortable at the thought of being singled out because of her relation to Narcissa. She looked quickly over at Hermione, hoping for a bit of understanding.

Hermione, sensing the tension, immediately intervened, her tone soft but firm. "Ron, stop. She's right. Narcissa will want respect. It's not something to joke about."

Ron opened his mouth to say something more but then noticed Druella's flushed face and quickly added with a teasing grin, "What, are you going to get scolded like a little child by Auntie Narcissa? Maybe she'll give you a treat if you're good. Oh and may she'll tuck you in bed again."

Druella shot him an icy glare, though it only seemed to egg him on. She pressed her lips tightly together, clearly irritated by his teasing, but refrained from responding. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

Harry, meanwhile, watched the exchange silently, his expression neutral. He wasn't particularly invested in the conversation but understood the seriousness of the situation. He knew well enough that Narcissa wasn't someone to provoke, even if he wasn't as familiar with the intricacies of her rules and expectations as Druella was.

Before anything more could be said, the door opened with a soft creak, and a familiar voice cut through the air, halting all further discussion. "Now, now, children. There's no need for arguing."

The class turned as Narcissa entered, her presence immediately filling the room. Her graceful stride and unshakable confidence commanded immediate attention. The moment she entered, the students instinctively fell silent. Narcissa's assessing gaze swept over them, checking for any signs of disobedience or hesitation. The class stood, not daring to do anything else.

Druella, standing with them, felt her nerves spike as she saw her aunt enter, but she quickly glanced at Harry, Hermione, and Ron, giving them one last warning with a subtle but firm gesture. Her hand briefly brushed her own robes, fingers twitching. 

Narcissa took a moment, her gaze lingering on the class with a hint of satisfaction before she spoke, her voice calm yet full of unspoken authority. "You may sit," she commanded, and the students obeyed immediately. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor filled the air as they returned to their seats.

Druella, seated back in her usual spot, tried to calm her nerves, but the weight of her aunt's presence was undeniable. She noticed how the students, especially Ron, shifted uneasily. She was grateful that Hermione had understood her warning, but she couldn't help but feel the pressure of her aunt's expectations bearing down on her.Narcissa's eyes briefly lingered on Draco and Druella before she addressed the class. 

Her voice was calm yet unyielding as she spoke, her words precise, and every student knew better than to doubt her authority. "Alright, now I have some rules for this class. Rule number one: You are to stand when I enter the room, and you will sit only when I give you permission. This will be the way of things in here." She glanced over them with a slight, disapproving frown, ensuring her point was made. "I expect respect. You will show it, or there will be consequences."

She began to walk along the front of the room, her robes flowing gracefully as she spoke, each word deliberate and weighted. "Now, I know many of you are unhappy with the removal of Muggle Studies and the introduction of this new class. Some of you likely believe this is a pointless endeavor." She paused and gave a deliberate look to the room, ensuring the gravity of her next words sunk in. "But I assure you, this class is not a mere distraction. It is vital. It is necessary."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone growing more serious. "You will learn how to defend yourselves. You will understand your magical heritage and learn how to navigate the challenges of a world that is growing more dangerous every day. You will learn advanced techniques in dueling, a skill that I know some of you may think is too advanced for your age. But I promise you, you will thank me for it later. You will not be able to afford ignorance."

As she turned to face the class again, she looked directly at Ron, who had rolled his eyes earlier. The air in the room grew heavy with the intensity of her gaze. "I am fully aware of your opinion, Mr. Weasley," she said with a biting edge. "But I suggest you keep it to yourself. I do not tolerate insolence, particularly in my classroom."

She gave a small, almost imperceptible sigh before continuing, her voice softening just slightly, but still full of authority. "In this class, you will respect my rules. You will respect my expectations. This is not a joke, and I am not here to entertain you. You are here to learn, and I expect nothing less than your full attention."

Narcissa's eyes drifted over to Druella for a moment, her fingers twitching slightly as if ready to reach out and gently settle a hand on her niece's shoulder. It was a soft gesture, but it carried weight—Druella's place in this class was not one of equals. Narcissa's gaze was possessive, as if to remind everyone that Druella was under her careful watch, protected and controlled, even in such a setting.

"Now," Narcissa continued, straightening up, "After my lecture, you will have time to do any homework I assign, and there will be debates on topics of relevance. But make no mistake—during my lectures, you will focus. There will be no distractions, no side conversations. If you are caught doing anything other than paying attention, there will be consequences." She paused for a moment, her voice dropping into a dangerous calm. "I will not repeat myself, and I will not tolerate anyone being disrespectful in my classroom."

Narcissa's eyes flashed, a warning to any who might think of testing her patience. "When it is time for homework, you will have time to work. During that period, I will be lenient and allow you to speak freely and move about. But understand this—during my lectures, you will sit up straight, you will pay attention, and you will be engaged. The rules in here are simple: respect, focus, and participation."

With one final, sweeping glance at the class, Narcissa took a step back, her posture still imposing as she surveyed her students. "If you show me that you can behave as I expect, we will move on. If you do not, I will make it clear exactly what happens when my rules are not followed."

She paused, her voice lowering in emphasis. "I do not tolerate fools or distractions. So, let's begin."

The room was utterly still, the tension palpable as every student took in her words. Narcissa had established her authority firmly, leaving no room for debate. Her expectations were clear: focus, respect, and performance.

"As you all know, I am Headmistress Malfoy," she began, her voice soft yet commanding. "Welcome to Magical Heritage and Defense, a class where we will explore the noble history of our world, advanced defensive charms, and the deeper truths of our heritage."

Ron raised his hand, his voice laced with confusion. "What do you mean by 'our world'?"

Narcissa's expression tightened slightly. "We are discussing magical society, Mr. Weasley. Understanding its nuances is essential, particularly for those less... acquainted with it." Her gaze drifted towards Hermione, the faintest sneer shadowing her lips. Hermione held her ground, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes.

With a wave of her wand Narcissa sent textbooks floating to each desk. "These will serve as a foundation for mastering both the history and defence skills that will set you apart," she said. Draco snickered as the book landed in front of Hermione, casting her a smug look. I stayed silent, stroking Morgana's fur as Narcissa's gaze lingered on my pet.

"For our lessons, I'll introduce spells that may challenge you to new lessons," she continued, pacing deliberately. "I am well aware that you will be learning spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts. While some may struggle," her eyes flicked to Neville, "it's never too early to start. And hard work breeds success."

Druella spotted Neville shrinking slightly, his face going red. Narcissa's tone sharpened as she looked directly at him. "Mr. Longbottom, do you doubt you can handle it?"

Neville stammered, "N-no, Headmistress."

"Good. Then don't look so uncertain," she replied icily. Druella glanced at him, wanting to reassure him, but her presence felt too imposing. Even if she said something, she would only find a way to keep them apart. Druella knew that look.

A few students shifted in their seats, clearly unsure of what to expect. Draco sat a bit straighter, clearly trying to project confidence under his mother's watchful eye, while I felt a small thrill of excitement rush through me. This was Narcissa at her best: sharp, authoritative, and utterly captivating.

"We live in a world that fears us," she continued, her tone smooth but with an undercurrent of intensity. "A world where those without magic—Muggles—would rather see us hidden away or destroyed than acknowledge the beauty of what we can do." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "But it is not blood that sets us apart, my students. It is magic."

Her gaze swept the room, lingering on those who were least comfortable under her scrutiny. Hermione, seated near the back, stiffened but didn't look away, her defiance masked by a calm exterior.

"Magic," Narcissa repeated, her eyes gleaming, "is what binds us. Not blood, not lineage. This class will challenge everything you think you know about who you are and where you come from. And it will reveal, in time, that it is our magic that defines us—not whether our parents were born magical or Muggle."

Druella listened with rapt attention, her quill flying over her parchment, eager to capture every word of her aunt. The atmosphere was tense but electrifying. It was as if the very air hummed with the force of Narcissa's conviction.

To emphasize her point, she waved her wand, conjuring an illusion in the air. Two figures appeared: one, a wizard showing a Muggle friend a simple charm, his face lit with pride; the other, the Muggle recoiling in terror, his eyes wide with horror. The room watched in rapt silence as the scene shifted—the Muggle turning on the wizard, shouting for others, who arrived with torches and ropes.

"Do you see?" Narcissa said, her voice a whisper that carried to every corner of the room. "The Muggle's fear is not just ignorance—it is a hatred born from their inability to comprehend what they do not possess. But we—" she gestured to the class, her eyes sweeping over us, "—must not let their fear divide us. Because united, bound by our shared magic, we are stronger than any force that seeks to oppress us."

Her words seemed to resonate with the students. Even my fellow Slytherins, typically smug in their superiority, were nodding along. There was something magnetic about her, something that pulled us all in, whether we wanted to believe her or not.

Narcissa's expression softened slightly, and she addressed the class with a question, her voice suddenly calm and almost inviting. "So, tell me," she asked, "do you want a world where we are constantly divided? Where we live in fear of one another because of something as meaningless as blood?"

There were hesitant nods from around the room. Druella could feel the shift—students, some of whom had been raised on the pure-blood superiority doctrine, were genuinely considering her words. Draco looked confused, caught between his mother's new ideology and the beliefs he had been raised with.

"Then let me ask you this," Narcissa said, stepping closer to the front row, her eyes locking with each student she passed. "Do you want to be known by the blood in your veins, or by the magic in your hearts?"

A wave of uncertain agreement rippled through the room. Druella scribbled down her words furiously, unable to keep up with the rush of thoughts and emotions her speech stirred within her. Blaise leaned over, whispering, "What do you think of all this?" But Druella barely heard him, lost in the swirl of Narcissa's rhetoric.

Her final words rang through the room, sealing her lesson with a sense of purpose. "We are not defined by what we are born as. We are defined by what we choose to become, and by the magic that courses through our very souls. Embrace that, and you will find a strength far greater than any prejudice."

The applause that erupted was hesitant at first, then grew stronger as students slowly joined in. Not everyone was convinced, of course. There were still wary glances exchanged, whispers in hushed tones. But for the first time, Druella could see doubt beginning to creep into the minds of those who had always believed blood was the only thing that mattered.

Blaise looked over at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place—admiration, perhaps? Druella was too engrossed in her notes to notice, though. Druella was simply caught up in the powerful, transformative force of Narcissa's words.

As the class dispersed, Hermione gave her a thoughtful glance, perhaps trying to gauge where Druella stood after that lecture. Druella offered a small, guarded smile in return. Narcissa had set the tone for the course with a masterful blend of ideology and manipulation, and it was clear that this class would be unlike any other.

And Druella, for one, was ready to learn every lesson she had to teach.

The atmosphere in the classroom was charged, every word Narcissa spoke weaving a powerful narrative that had the students either enthralled or silently seething. For Druella, it was like hearing an echo of everything Bellatrix had instilled in her. Bellatrix—her mother—had told Druella these very things countless times, her voice fervent, her eyes alight with a passion that only she could summon. To hear Narcissa reinforce those lessons now, in front of everyone, filled Druella with a sense of pride and vindication.

Druella was writing so furiously that her wrist was starting to cramp, but she couldn't stop. Every point Narcissa made, every swipe at Muggle ignorance, every exaltation of magical superiority—Druella had to capture it all. Bellatrix's voice echoed in her mind, reminding her that understanding this history was crucial and that knowing the truth was the key to power. This lecture was proof of what they had always known, and Druella was determined to absorb every word.

Beside her, Blaise on the other side was watching Druella intently. His eyes had softened, his usual air of aloofness replaced by something... warmer. Druella could feel his gaze, the way it lingered on her as Druella scribbled notes at lightning speed. But she was too focused to notice his glances beyond a vague awareness. He was staring at Druella as though she were the only person in the room, but her quill kept scratching across the parchment, Druella's mind racing to keep up with Narcissa's words.

Every now and then, Blaise walked and would shift closer, just enough that Druella could sense his presence. His dark eyes never left her, filled with something she couldn't quite name. Admiration? Curiosity? No, it was deeper than that. But Druella was too caught up in the lecture to pay him any real mind. Right now, Narcissa's words were the only thing that mattered.

Across the room, Neville was still trying to muster the courage to speak again, his cheeks red and his knuckles white around his quill. Narcissa had turned her back on him, resuming her lecture as though he was nothing more than an annoying gnat. Hermione, too, was scribbling notes, though much more methodically than Druella was. She could see the tension in her shoulders, the silent disapproval in her eyes, but she said nothing—for now.

"Do you understand, class?" Narcissa's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "We must embrace one another, not by the accident of blood, but by the strength of our shared magic. It is this unity that will protect us from the dangers outside." She paused, her eyes sweeping over the room. "Do you want to be burned at the stake by those who fear us? Or will you stand together, united by your magic?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. Even those who were hesitant seemed unwilling to argue in front of her. Druella kept writing, her quill a blur on the parchment, my heart pounding with excitement. This was exactly what Bellatrix always told her—that we, the magical, were bound together not by mere lineage but by our innate power.

Beside me, Blaise leaned closer, his voice low and gentle. "You're really into this, aren't you, Druella?" he murmured, almost fondly.

Druella didn't even glance up, still furiously taking notes. "Of course," Druella whispered back, not breaking her focus. "I'm busy this is important."

Blaise smiled, shaking his head slightly as he watched her. But Druella was too absorbed to notice the way his eyes softened further, the quiet admiration that filled his gaze. To him, she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve, and yet... he couldn't look away.

Just as she seemed to revel in the silence, Neville raised his hand hesitantly, his voice wavering slightly. "But Professor—" he started a hint of determination in his tone.

Narcissa's expression hardened instantly, her eyes narrowing as she turned her full attention to him. "Mr. Longbottom," she said, her voice cool and sharp, cutting through his words like a knife. "If you have something to say, I suggest you think it through carefully. We wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself further, now would we?"

Neville's face flushed crimson, his confidence visibly crumbling under her withering gaze. "I just thought... maybe some Muggles can be... um, understanding?" he stammered, his words tumbling out as he shifted nervously in his seat.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow, her lips pursing in disapproval. "Understanding? You must be joking," she replied, her tone dripping with scorn. "To think you'd defend those who have historically feared and hunted our kind. Your naivety is almost amusing." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper, yet every student could hear her. "Remember, Mr. Longbottom, that ignorance is not a virtue; it's a liability. If we're to survive in this world, we must be vigilant against those who do not appreciate the gift of magic."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air thick with discomfort as Neville shrank back in his seat, silenced by her pointed words. Druella felt a rush of sympathy for him, wishing she could say something, but Narcissa's presence loomed large, a reminder that dissent would not be tolerated.

As she returned her gaze to the rest of the class, a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, clearly relishing the power she held over us. "Now, let's delve deeper into our history, shall we?" she continued, dismissing Neville's remarks as if they were nothing more than a fleeting nuisance.

The lesson progressed, but the tension lingered, a reminder of the chasm between her worldview and the beliefs some of the students clung to. Druella couldn't help but feel the weight of her judgment, not just for Muggles, but for anyone who dared to challenge her authority.

When we were starting to work on homework Narcissa was behind Druella and Hermione grabbing both of our shoulders.

"Druella, dear," she cooed softly, her fingers lingering at my temple. "Are you comfortable? This topic must be so enlightening for you." Her tone was indulgent, as if she were speaking to a young child.

I nodded, avoiding her eyes. "Yes, Aunt Narcissa."

Draco snickered from across the table, watching with a gleeful smirk. "You really are her little favorite, aren't you, Druella?" he murmured. "The perfect golden child."

Narcissa's gaze snapped to Draco, her hand resting firmly on her shoulder, as though staking her claim. "Druella simply has a natural respect for her heritage, unlike some." She raised an eyebrow at Hermione, her tone icy but controlled. "Now, if anyone has questions, they may wait until the end of my lecture."

Hermione's hand slowly fell to her side, and Druella felt a pang of discomfort, but she remained quiet, knowing any attempt to defend her would be fruitless. Narcissa's hand shifted to Druella's shoulder, and she gave it a light squeeze, as though to remind her of her place. Druella kept her gaze fixed forward, feeling Hermione's eyes flicker toward Druella, perhaps searching for some reassurance.

Narcissa resumed her lecture, speaking of the "great contributions" of pure-blood families, selectively glossing over any instances where Muggles might have played a positive role. "The unfortunate reality," she continued, "is that Muggles often hinder progress. They lack the understanding of what makes our world superior."

Her voice softened as she turned to Hermione, her fingers reaching out to gently brush a stray curl from her face. "Hermione, dear, I trust you'll find it in yourself to appreciate the depth of your magical heritage," she murmured, her tone dripping with false warmth.

Hermione's face flushed, but she nodded stiffly, her eyes flitting back to me with a hint of unease. Narcissa, apparently pleased with her silence, let her hand rest on Hermione's shoulder for a moment longer before shifting her focus back to Druella.

"And Druella, my dear," she continued, her voice taking on a patronizing tone as she adjusted the collar of her robes. "You, more than anyone, should feel connected to this heritage. Isn't it lovely to learn about your lineage?"

"Yes, Aunt Narcissa," Druella replied, keeping her voice steady, though she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. Narcissa's hand moved to her cheek, her thumb brushing it Draco let out another quiet snicker.

"Aww, Mudblood and Druella," he taunted, barely able to keep his laughter under control. "Aren't you lucky to be treated like royalty? Especially you, Mudblood."

Narcissa's gaze snapped toward Draco, her eyes narrowing with a sharp intensity. "Draco," she said, her voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of threat, "perhaps you'd like to remind the class of our family's contributions to wizarding society. Or would you prefer to sit quietly and observe how real dedication looks?" The room fell silent, her velvet tone turning cold as her gaze swept across the class, daring anyone to interject.

Hermione struggled to hold back her laughter, sensing the tension rising. Draco swallowed hard, his bravado deflating as he glanced down at his desk. "Yes, Mother," he muttered, a begrudging acceptance in his tone.

With a subtle yet firm gesture, Narcissa patted her cheek lightly, her smile cool and poised. "That's what I thought," she said, before turning her attention back to the rest of the class. "Let me be clear, I will not tolerate such words in my classroom. All of you should remember that we are all wizards and witches here, deserving of respect, regardless of background."

Her declaration hung in the air, an unyielding reminder of her authority and the values she expected them to uphold. Druella felt a swell of gratitude for her support, knowing that, at this moment, she was fiercely defending not just Druella but Hermione as well. 

As the lecture continued, she described various instances where wizards had "benevolently" helped Muggles, always with an air of superiority. Her tone was so dismissive that even Harry and Ron began to look visibly irritated.

Hermione shifted next to me, her hand inching closer to Druella as though seeking some solidarity. Druella wanted to reassure her, but under Narcissa's gaze, she stayed silent. Druella knew exactly what would happen if sh spoke out or made any motion against her instructions—Narcissa would only find a way to keep Druella close. To keep her under her watch to prevent her from getting hurt.

When she finally allowed the students to ask questions, Neville cautiously raised his hand, his face flushed with apprehension. "Headmistress Malfoy," he began hesitantly, "don't you think Muggles... well, they've contributed to history too?"

Narcissa's smile was thin as she looked down at him. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom. How... sweet of you to think so." Her voice held an unmistakable edge. "Perhaps that is the sort of thinking that has hindered some in reaching their potential. I would suggest focusing more on your studies in this class and less on what Muggles have supposedly achieved."

Neville's cheeks reddened, and he quickly averted his gaze. Hermione glanced at him sympathetically, but before she could say anything, Narcissa rested her hand on her shoulder again, gently but firmly keeping her in place.

"I trust that as you all continue in this course, you'll come to appreciate what our world offers over that of the Muggles," she finished, her gaze sweeping over each of us. "Especially those who come from less... enlightened backgrounds."

She looked directly at Hermione, who tried to hold her gaze but faltered, her face a mix of frustration and discomfort. Narcissa gave her shoulder a final, patronizing squeeze before letting go, patting her then her gaze softening as she returned to Druella.

"Druella, darling," she murmured, her voice as smooth as silk. "I hope you've been paying close attention. You'll need to remember all of this if you're to carry on our legacy properly."

Draco chuckled under his breath again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Don't worry, Mother. Druella's perfect for that role, aren't you?" His tone was mocking, but Aunt Narcissa ignored him, and focused entirely on me.

Druella nodded, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on her. "Of course, Aunt Narcissa," I replied, forcing a small smile.

"Good," she said approvingly, patting Druella's hand. "You're such a well-behaved young lady. A credit to the Black name."

Draco's snicker grew louder, but a single, cutting look from Narcissa silenced him instantly. I remained still, my gaze fixed forward, feeling Hermione's quiet presence beside me, the tension between us unspoken.

As the class continued, Aunt Narcissa leaned down occasionally to fix her niece's hair again, her fingers gentle and precise. "You want to look presentable, my Pureblood Princess," she murmured, her tone soothing as she made minute adjustments. It felt comforting to Druella, like a soft embrace, a reminder that Druella was loved and protected in her eyes.

"Now, I'll be out for a little bit after your Quidditch tryouts," she mentioned casually, her focus still on Druella. "Hermione, would you keep an eye on Druella while I'm away? I'd appreciate it."

Druella looked up at Hermione, who nodded, albeit reluctantly. Guilt washed over her for putting her in that position, but it was comforting to know Narcissa wanted to keep her close, even if it meant relying on others to watch over Druella.

As Narcissa's gaze lingered on Druella, she couldn't shake the feeling that her interest in Hermione was more than just a casual concern. Druella sensed she was going through with adopting Hermione she knew but was just between them. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through Druella, "She'll adjust better then her parents." Druella thought to herself she felt excited but knew not to spoil her aunt's plans. 

"Splendid," Narcissa said, her smile radiant. "I trust you both to look out for each other. Remember, teamwork is vital."

Just then, Neville giggled, and his hand shot up, an eager expression on his face. He tried to walk over to Druella but Narcissa stopped him "What's the interruption?" He nervously laughed "Uh, Professor? I just wanted to send Druella something."

Narcissa's brows furrowed slightly as she turned to him. "Mr. Longbottom, what is it that you find more important than my class?"

"Oh, just a little drawing. You know, school stuff," he stammered, glancing nervously at me.

"Really?" she replied, her tone laced with scepticism. "Let me see it."

"No!" he protested, his voice rising in panic. "It's not what you think! It's just a joke!"

Before he could explain further, Neville attempted to send the enchanted parchment flying toward me. Druella grinned and gazed at it, waiting for it to come. But Narcissa's reflexes were sharp; she caught the parchment in mid-air before it could reach her. "Oh, this is interesting indeed Neville."

With a smirk, she waved her wand and held it up for the class to see. It revealed a comical drawing of Neville attacking Bellatrix. The drawing showed her with her wild hair and fierce expression while Neville looked somewhat ridiculous and angry but brandished a makeshift wand. It shows him attacking her in a duel and her frizzy hair on her face in rage but injured. Neville's face was red from embarrisment. Druella could tell he was frustrated with her mother yet again.

Laughter erupted in the classroom, and Druella couldn't help but join in, she may be her mother but Druella found it amusing even as she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Ron shouted, "She's going to kill you, Neville!"

Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair, his expression both amused and smug. "Aunt Bella really doesn't appreciate jokes about her," he quipped, clearly enjoying the situation. I nodded at Draco "Yes no doubt about that." Druella turned, gazing at her friend, knowing her mother would be furious. "Let's hope Mother won't yell at me about his issues." Druella thought, "He's already walking on thin ice. She'll find an excuse to separate us. She hates him I never will hear the end of this." She thought once more. 

Narcissa, however, was not amused. She looked at Neville, her expression turning serious. "I guess time in the new Reflection Room will help you contemplate your choices, don't you think?"

Neville's smile faltered, but he managed to chuckle sheepishly, the laughter of his classmates ringing in his ears. Narcissa returned to her lecture, her demeanour back to that of a stern matriarch, reminding them all of the importance of respect and propriety, especially concerning family.

When she glanced back at me, Druella felt a flicker of something deeper in her gaze—an unspoken bond that felt significant. "Now, Druella don't focus on boys right now," she said warmly, "let's focus on our magical heritage and the responsibilities that come with it."

"Now, just a reminder I'll be out for a little bit after your Quidditch tryouts, I have a business to work on with my divorce with Lucius," she mentioned casually, her focus still on me. Draco "Will Father be there?" Aunt Narcissa "You know we are not going to discuss that Draco." Draco pouted and turned away I knew he didn't want another reminder we still don't know where Lucius is. Yet I didn't care given the scars on my stomach.

Druella looked up at Hermione, who nodded, albeit reluctantly. Guilt washed over me for putting her in that position, but it was comforting to know Aunt Narcissa wanted to keep me close, even if it meant relying on others to watch over me.

As much as Narcissa's presence loomed large, there was a strange comfort in Hermione's guidance, a reassurance that I wasn't just a project to her. I was Druella, and she was there, not just as my aunt's ward but as a friend who genuinely cared for me.

After class, Druella groaned softly, her frustration simmering as she realized Aunt Narcissa had already signed her up to try out for the Quidditch team. Turning around, she saw Narcissa standing nearby, her usual composed smile in place, radiating the confidence of someone who had planned everything to perfection.

Hermione approached cautiously, her curiosity evident. "You trying out?" she asked, her tone gentle.

Druella nodded reluctantly. "Yep."

"Good luck. I'll be here," Hermione said with an encouraging smile. The reassurance made Druella feel slightly better about the ordeal ahead.

Before she could respond, Druella noticed Pansy Parkinson lingering nearby, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. "Good luck on the tryouts, Druella. I'll see you there," Pansy said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

Druella shot Pansy a sharp look but chose not to respond. Instead, she squared her shoulders. "Alright, let's do this," she muttered under her breath.

"Are you scared?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Druella hesitated before giving a small nod. "A little."

Hermione placed a reassuring hand on Druella's shoulder, her voice warm. "You'll be fine. Believe in yourself."

Buoyed by Hermione's encouragement, Druella nodded again, trying to push the nerves down as she headed toward the Quidditch pitch. Her determination was interrupted by a soft, melodic voice behind her.

"Hello there. How are you doing?"

Druella turned quickly to see Professor Rowynn standing a few steps away, her pale eyes sparkling with curiosity and her smile warm yet unreadable. The professor's presence always seemed to command attention without effort.

Caught off guard, Druella let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, I'm good... just need to get to the pitch."

Before she could take another step, Professor Rowynn reached out, her grip gentle yet unyielding. "Well then," Rowynn said with a tilt of her head, her smile unwavering, "at least let me adjust your hair for the big day."

Druella blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Look, as much as I'd love to, I really need to—"

"Nonsense," Professor Rowynn interrupted smoothly. "Why don't I take you there myself? A little preparation never hurt anyone."

Before Druella could protest, the professor was already guiding her through the corridor, her steps graceful and unhurried. Rowynn led Druella to a bench near the door to the pitch and gestured for her to sit down.

Professor Rowynn's voice carried its usual soft insistence, an unnerving blend of calm and control, as she began, "So, what did you think of our lesson earlier?"

Druella stiffened, the earlier conversation flashing through her mind. The weight of the professor's words still lingered uncomfortably. "It was... nice," she replied cautiously, knowing better than to say too much.

Rowynn's smile widened slightly, her pale eyes sparkling with the same mix of curiosity and quiet authority that always seemed to follow her. There was a flicker of sincerity in her expression, but it was buried beneath her usual measured demeanor. "Well, I know my methods may seem extreme, but someone has to be. These students need guidance, don't you think? And speaking of guidance, is that how Pansy speaks to you? Seems rather unfair, if you ask me."

Druella didn't trust it. There was something too calculated about the way Professor Rowynn spoke, her words measured as though she were always testing the waters. Even as Rowynn's hands worked quickly through Druella's hair, the professor's eyes held that assessing glint, a sharpness that never seemed to dull. Druella could feel her thoughts being weighed, her reactions cataloged, as though Rowynn were building a strategy just from this brief encounter.

Despite Rowynn's light touch, Druella stayed tense, her discomfort growing as the woman hummed quietly under her breath, radiating a serenity that felt far too practiced. Determined to endure, Druella kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give the professor any more insight than she already seemed to possess.

After a few moments, Rowynn stepped back, brushing Druella's hair one last time with an air of satisfaction. "There," she said lightly, though her tone carried that distinct undercurrent of finality. "Now, you're ready."

"Thanks," Druella muttered, standing abruptly and stepping back, eager to put distance between them.

Rowynn's knowing smile didn't falter. "You're welcome," she replied smoothly, as though she already knew Druella would struggle to shake the encounter.

As Druella began to back away, Rowynn's posture straightened, her voice becoming more deliberate. "Don't think this conversation is over," she called after her, her pale eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Pausing, Druella turned, her gaze locking with Rowynn's. The professor's expression was calm, but her intensity was palpable, her words deliberate as she continued. "Your aunt and mother want you protected," she said firmly. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that happens."

Druella's jaw tightened as she nodded stiffly, a mix of wariness and frustration rising within her. "Right," she replied curtly before turning back toward the Quidditch pitch.

With a deep breath, Druella focused on the pitch ahead. The Quidditch field stretched out before her, the grass shimmering under the late afternoon sun. This was her chance—not just to make the team but to prove something to herself. Maybe if she succeeded, it would keep Narcissa off her back for a while. Quidditch sounded fun, at least. Perhaps, for once, she could accomplish something on her own.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Narcissa placed a firm yet encouraging hand on her shoulders. "Alright now, let us go," Narcissa said with an air of excitement. She guided Druella toward the pitch, her poise and composure not masking her anticipation.

As they arrived, Pansy Parkinson gave Druella her usual disdainful smirk. Narcissa, however, shot the girl a sharp look, one that silenced any further attempts at snide remarks. Turning her attention back to the group, Narcissa spoke clearly and with authority. "Alright, Druella and Pansy will be going against each other for this position. Whoever performs best will secure their spot on the team. Understood?"

Both girls nodded, their expressions set with determination.

"Good luck, Druella. You'll need it," Pansy quipped, adjusting her broom as if it were a trophy. Druella ignored her, gripping her own broom tightly.

As the students began to assemble along the sidelines, Druella noticed another figure standing apart from the crowd. Bellatrix her mother. Arms crossed, her dark eyes locked onto Druella with an intensity that could cut through steel. For all her usual fierceness, there was a flicker of pride in her gaze.

"You've got this, Druella," Bellatrix called out, her voice sharp but laced with a rare note of encouragement. "Show them what a Black can do."

The words struck a chord in Druella, sending a surge of confidence through her. She mounted her broom, the familiar feel of it grounding her nerves as her heart raced with anticipation.

Narcissa clapped her hands, bringing the gathering to order. "On my mark!" she announced, her voice carrying across the pitch. "Three... two... one... go!"

Druella kicked off the ground, her broom soaring upward as the rush of wind greeted her face.

The two shot into the air, their brooms slicing through the wind as they ascended higher. Druella felt the rush of adrenaline overpower her nerves, exhilaration taking hold. She darted left, then right, her movements fluid and precise, mimicking techniques she'd observed during countless Quidditch matches. Every feint, every maneuver came back to her—only now, she aimed to do them better.

Pansy flew alongside her, her competitive spirit evident in every sharp turn and deliberate move.

From below, Narcissa's commanding voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. "Druella, show me your speed! Pansy, watch her moves!"

Druella gritted her teeth, gripping the broom tighter as she urged it faster, feeling the familiar thrill of flying. Determination burned within her—this was her moment to prove herself. She executed a swift dive, her body leaning into the motion as she narrowly avoided an imaginary Bludger. The pitch below blurred as the wind rushed past her ears.

After a series of laps, Narcissa raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. Professor Snape, standing beside her with his usual stern demeanor, called out. "Quaffle skills. Let's see them."

Both Druella and Pansy immediately angled toward the Quaffle, racing to grab it first. Their brooms swerved and weaved, each girl attempting to outmaneuver the other. At the last second, Druella reached out and snatched the ball, clutching it tightly as she sped toward the goalposts.

"Go, Druella!" Bellatrix's voice cut through the din, sharp and full of pride.

Druella's focus sharpened as she approached the hoops. She aimed for the left one, throwing the Quaffle with a strong, determined motion. The ball soared through the air and slipped past Pansy's outstretched hands, scoring a clean goal. Cheers erupted from the sidelines, filling Druella with a surge of confidence. She couldn't help but grin, her heart racing with triumph.

"Not bad, Black!" Pansy sneered, her tone both begrudging and competitive. "But let's see you do that again!"

Before Druella could retort, the atmosphere on the pitch shifted. A bone-chilling cold descended over the field, and a collective murmur of fear rippled through the students.

"Dementor!" someone screamed, panic erupting as students scattered.

Druella's eyes darted toward the dark, hooded figure gliding across the pitch, its very presence draining warmth and joy from the air. Pansy's face turned ashen, her bravado crumbling as the Dementor drew closer.

Hovering above the pitch, Druella's gaze flicked to Bellatrix. Her aunt stood calmly on the sidelines, her arms crossed, a wicked grin curling her lips as she watched the scene unfold. There was no fear in her expression—only an unsettling amusement.

But Druella refused to back down. Gripping her broom tightly, she held her ground, her resolve hardening. She met the Dementor's hollow, soulless gaze, a strange sense of defiance bubbling within her. Despite the cold creeping into her chest, she didn't waver. The dark creature faltered, its oppressive aura weakening under her unyielding stare.

Bellatrix's grin widened, pride gleaming in her dark eyes.

The Dementor lingered for a moment longer, as though uncertain what to make of Druella, before turning and retreating into the shadows. Druella watched it disappear, her heart pounding but her confidence intact.

Cheers erupted once again as Druella descended, landing gracefully on the pitch. The fear from moments before was replaced by exhilaration, the students' admiration palpable.

"Well done, Druella!" Narcissa called, her voice carrying a rare warmth. She checked her pocket watch, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Pride radiated from her as she met Druella's gaze.

Bellatrix clapped slowly, the sound deliberate and echoing. "That's my girl," she said, her voice full of smug satisfaction.

The tryouts resumed with an electrified energy still rippling through the crowd. Druella mounted her broom once more, her mind steady and focused. She had proven herself—against both her rival and the looming threat of the Dementor.

The players took turns showcasing their skills, but Druella was in the zone now. Each movement, each throw of the Quaffle, felt natural and powerful. The rush of competition ignited something fierce within her, and with every successful maneuver and every goal scored, her confidence soared.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Narcissa raised her hand to signal the end of the session. "That's enough for today!" she called, her sharp voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. As Druella dismounted, Narcissa approached with a wide smile, her eyes shining with pride.

"Both of you showed excellent potential," she said, her tone even but laced with approval.

Druella glanced at Pansy, who was panting but still held that determined, competitive glint in her eye. But Druella didn't care. She had given her all, and the thrill of flying, of proving herself, was all that mattered now.

"Druella!" Narcissa called again, stepping closer. Her smile widened. "You were fantastic! I knew you had it in you!"

Before Druella could respond, Bellatrix came striding forward, her dark hair flowing behind her like a cape. She reached her daughter in seconds, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"My fierce girl," Bellatrix murmured, squeezing Druella tightly. Her voice brimmed with pride, the intensity of her emotions palpable. "You were brilliant out there. Never forget—nothing worthwhile is ever handed to you. You'll earn your place every time."

"Thanks, Aunt Narcissa. Thank you, Mother," Druella replied, her voice steady despite the warmth of relief washing over her. She had done well—she could feel it.

That evening, the team results were announced on the Quidditch pitch. The crowd, still buzzing with excitement, gathered in anticipation. Druella stood among them, her heart pounding in her chest. As the names were called, her breath caught.

"The one who is placed as our Chaser," the captain declared, "is Druella Black!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Druella stood frozen for a moment, disbelief etched across her face. Then, as the realization sank in, a grin spread across her lips. Pansy stood off to the side, her expression a mixture of frustration and anger, but Druella paid her no mind.

Hermione was there, clapping enthusiastically, her face lit with genuine happiness for Druella's achievement. For a fleeting moment, Druella let herself revel in the joy of it all—the cheers, the sense of accomplishment, and the warmth of support from those who mattered most.

A short distance away, Narcissa paced with barely contained excitement. When Druella looked her way, her aunt stopped, her expression melting into one of unguarded pride. "I knew you could do it, Druella! You were phenomenal out there!" Narcissa exclaimed, her voice carrying across the pitch.

Bellatrix wasn't far behind. Her voice rang out sharply as she hurried over. "Druella!" Her eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. In a heartbeat, Bellatrix had swept Druella into a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground as though she were a small child again.

"My fierce girl," Bellatrix repeated, her tone filled with warmth and pride. "You were absolutely brilliant. This is just the beginning for you."

"Thanks, Mother," Druella said, her cheeks tinged pink as she returned the hug. The sense of validation she felt in that moment was unparalleled.

Professor Snape stepped forward, his dark robes billowing as he addressed the players. His sharp gaze settled on Druella, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of pride in his usually impassive expression.

"You've shown remarkable potential, Druella," he said in his usual cool tone. "If you channel this focus and determination, you may find yourself excelling far beyond Quidditch."

Druella nodded, the weight of his words settling in her mind. She stood taller, her heart full of resolve. This wasn't just about the game—it was about proving herself, not only to others but to herself. And tonight, she had done just that.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall strode onto the pitch, her arms crossed and a slight frown tugging at her lips. "Another Slytherin on the team?" she muttered, her tone sharp, though there was an unmistakable glint of pride in her eyes.

Snape, leaning casually against the edge of the stands, smirked. "Oh, come now, Minerva. I thought you enjoyed a bit of competition. Surely you can't be that distressed over a little Slytherin advantage."

McGonagall turned her sharp gaze toward him, arching a brow. "It's not just a 'little' advantage, Severus. Slytherin's growing strength in Quidditch could pose quite the challenge for Gryffindor."

His smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Ah, but that's what makes it fun, isn't it? Perhaps you should focus on ensuring your team can keep up. From what I've seen today, Druella might prove to be quite the obstacle."

"Very amusing," McGonagall replied dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Let's just hope Gryffindor can rise to the occasion."

Narcissa joined the conversation, her voice brimming with pride as she stepped forward. "You know, I was a Chaser in my day," she said, a touch of bragging in her tone. "Slytherin was quite the force back then. Perhaps now, with Druella, we can reclaim our former glory."

Druella, standing nearby, let out an audible sigh, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "Really, Aunt Narcissa? Do we have to bring up your glory days right now?" she muttered, trying to keep her irritation under control. "This is about me, not your past achievements."

Narcissa blinked, momentarily taken aback, before softening her expression. "Oh, but it's all part of the legacy, dear," she replied lightly. "You're following in my footsteps! You've got the talent—you just need to harness it."

"Let's focus on me, okay?" Druella shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. While she appreciated her aunt's pride, the constant comparisons were grating. "I want to celebrate my success, not be a reflection of yours."

There was a beat of silence before Narcissa chuckled softly. "Fair enough," she said, her tone warm with understanding. "Just know I'm in your corner, always."

Bellatrix chose that moment to step closer, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Did you see how you outmaneuvered Pansy?" she said with a proud smile, pulling Druella into a tight embrace. "You were incredible, my fierce girl. You showed them all exactly what you're made of."

As Druella returned the embrace, her gaze wandered to the edge of the pitch, where Pansy stood apart from the group. The other girl's expression was a mixture of anger and disbelief, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"You're only on the team because of your family!" Pansy suddenly shouted, her voice ringing out and slicing through the celebratory atmosphere.

"Ignore her," Narcissa said immediately, a protective edge to her voice. Her sharp gaze flicked toward Pansy, daring her to say more. "She's just upset she couldn't keep up with you."

Druella hesitated, her heart sinking slightly. Pansy's words stung, but more than that, Druella couldn't ignore the other girl's frustration. "I didn't mean to upset her," she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the lingering cheers.

Bellatrix placed a firm hand on her shoulder, her voice low and fierce. "You don't owe her anything, Druella. She lost because she wasn't strong enough. Let her deal with her own bitterness."

Still, Druella couldn't entirely shake the weight in her chest. She had earned her place fair and square, but seeing Pansy's pain made her wonder if, in some way, she had become the very kind of rival she had once feared to face.

That weekend, Professor McGonagall stood before the assembled students, arms crossed and gaze sharp as she addressed them. "Now remember, these visits to Hogsmeade Village are a privilege," she intoned, her voice clipped and commanding. "Should your behavior reflect poorly on the school in any way, that privilege will not be extended again."

The students murmured their understanding, and a line began to form to present their permission slips to Filch. Druella clutched hers tightly, eager to join the others, when McGonagall's stern voice cut through the air.

"Not you, Miss Black."

Druella froze mid-step, turning to face the professor. McGonagall's gaze was unwavering, her expression as cold and disapproving as a January frost.

"But why?" Druella asked, her frown deepening as frustration swelled within her. "My mother signed my form."

McGonagall's expression didn't soften. "Your aunt has left me with clear instructions. You, Miss Black, will not be joining the other students for the time being."

Druella's fingers curled tightly around the edges of her slip, her irritation growing. "But that's not fair."

"Life rarely is," McGonagall replied briskly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And that is my final decision." She arched an eyebrow, daring Druella to push further.

Stifling the retort that rose to her lips, Druella reluctantly turned on her heel and walked away, her steps heavy with frustration. She found Narcissa waiting for her nearby, her posture impeccably poised as always.

"How come I can't go?" Druella asked, her irritation breaking through in her tone. "Mother signed the form."

Narcissa glanced at her niece, her expression a mix of mild disapproval and resolute authority. "We discussed it," she began evenly. "Your mother believes you could handle the trip on your own, yes—"

"There, you see—" Druella started, seizing on the admission.

"But," Narcissa interjected sharply, her tone brooking no argument, "we agreed that, with her not here, I will decide what is best for you. And considering the recent rumors about Sirius Black, sneaking onto the grounds, I have chosen to restrict your privileges."

Druella opened her mouth to argue, but Narcissa raised a hand to silence her.

"Severus himself suspects Lupin may be involved in helping him," Narcissa continued firmly, her gaze narrowing. "I will not take unnecessary risks with your safety. This is final, Druella."

Fuming, Druella said nothing, though the injustice of it gnawed at her. She knew better than to argue further when Narcissa had made up her mind. Instead, she turned her gaze away, watching the other students as they headed toward the gates, her permission slip crumpled in her hand. Druella huffed, realizing that any further protests would fall on deaf ears she stromed off not before she chimed in. "You'll thank me later, Druella," she said dismissively. "Once I find a suitable chaperone, we'll revisit this discussion. Until then, no Hogsmeade."

Druella's eye twitched, and she glared at Narcissa, her voice low but trembling with frustration. "This is unfair."

Narcissa turned, her brows furrowing. "Druella, I—"

"No!" Druella cut her off, her voice rising as her frustration boiled over. "This is so unfair! You always treat me like a bloody baby!" She threw her arms up, the motion sharp and jerky.

Narcissa's lips parted in surprise, stunned by the sheer venom in Druella's tone. "Druella, you have no idea who Sirius is—what he's capable of—"

"I don't care!" Druella snapped, her fists clenching at her sides. "Why can't I just go after him myself? The Dementors can't feed off me anyway! I just—I just want some independence for once in my life!"

Narcissa took a step closer, her hands out as though trying to steady Druella from afar. "Druella, listen to me. You don't understand what he's capable of. He's dangerous, reckless—"

Druella threw her arms out, her voice hitting a fever pitch. "Then let me see for myself! When will you stop treating me like this? When will I get to decide for myself? Draco gets to go to Hogsmeade! You let him do whatever he bloody well wants!"

Narcissa's jaw tightened, her voice firm but not unkind. "That's different, Druella. You—"

"No, it's not!" Druella interrupted, her voice cracking as she stomped her foot. "You treat me like a child! I'm sick of it, Aunt Narcissa! Sick of not going anywhere, of being wrapped up and coddled like I'm made of glass!"

Narcissa shook her head, keeping her composure as she approached. "Druella, I do this because—"

"Because what?" Druella scoffed, taking a step back, her hands trembling. "Because you're scared? Because Lucius hurt me? Well, guess what I'm fine! I can take care of myself!"

Narcissa froze, the mention of Lucius tightening her expression. Her voice softened, but it held an edge of urgency. "You're not fine, Druella. And that's okay. I know what he did to you. I know it took a toll—a toll I can't fix overnight. But I need you to trust me to protect you, to keep you safe—"

"Safe from what?" Druella's voice was hoarse now, her cheeks flushed as she waved her arms in frustration. "From flying too high? From scratching myself? From a bloody creature in the Forbidden Forest? You don't get it! You're suffocating me!"

"I'm protecting you!" Narcissa's tone rose slightly, but she took a steadying breath. "Druella, please, just listen to me. You've been through more than anyone should at your age. I can't let you wander into danger when I'm not sure you're ready—"

"I'm ready!" Druella shouted, her voice ringing out as a few students nearby paused to stare. Her fists trembled at her sides. "I'm ready to face him, ready to fight him if I have to! I don't need you holding my hand every second—"

"You don't know what you're saying," Narcissa interjected, her voice calm but strained. She shot a sharp glare at the lingering students, silently commanding them to leave. Once they did, she returned her gaze to Druella, her eyes softening.

"You don't understand what Sirius could do to you. You've survived so much already, Druella. I won't let you face any of it alone. Not yet."

"I don't care!" Druella screamed, her chest heaving. Her voice cracked with raw emotion. "I hate this! I hate you! I hate your protection, your rules, your bloody face that keeps telling me to stop!"

Narcissa flinched slightly, but she kept her voice steady, refusing to let the outburst rattle her. "You don't hate me, Druella. You're angry, and you're scared—"

"I'm not scared!" Druella roared, her voice echoing in the emptying corridor. Her hands flew to her head, gripping her hair in frustration. "I just—I can't live like this anymore! You think you're helping, but you're not! I want to be free! I want to be normal!"

Narcissa's heart ached as she stepped forward, closing the distance despite Druella's protests. "Druella, you are normal. What Lucius did to you doesn't define you. You're strong, so much stronger than you realize. But you don't have to prove it by throwing yourself into danger."

Druella shook her head violently, her hands balling into fists again. "Stop talking about him! Stop making excuses! I'm fine!"

"You're not fine!" Narcissa's voice cracked slightly, her composure slipping for the first time. "And it's okay not to be fine, Druella. It's okay to be angry, to hurt—but don't push me away because of it. I love you too much to let you destroy yourself over what he did."

"Just leave me alone!" Druella yelled one final time, her voice breaking as she spun on her heel and stormed down the corridor.

"Druella!" Narcissa called after her, her voice firm but tinged with worry. "Come back here!"

But Druella didn't stop, her pace quick and determined as she disappeared around a corner. Narcissa let out a weary sigh, pressing her fingers to her temple as the echoes of her niece's anger faded. She knew Druella's words were fueled by pain and frustration, but hearing them still stung.

Taking a deep breath, Narcissa whispered to herself, "She doesn't mean it. She's hurting." She straightened her shoulders, determined to find Druella when the girl was ready, and remind her that, no matter how much she pushed, she would never truly be alone.

Meanwhile, Druella stormed off, picking up Morgana as she headed toward the library, seething with frustration. With Hogsmeade out of the question, she sank into her books, hoping that research might calm her nerves. "This is stupid, Morgie! I can't do anything," Druella muttered. "I'll figure it out to get through to everyone." 

She glanced at Madam Pince, who watched her with her usual hawk-like gaze, but Druella ignored her. "I will, Morgie, whatever it takes." Morgana purred, starting to calm the angry girl as she flipped through her spellbook. 

Under her codename, "Blackthorn Heiress," Druella had made several notes on defensive spells and was now considering an idea for an attack spell—a shadow-based blast that could act as a powerful deterrent. To pass the time over the weekend, she decided to study for her classes since she wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade.

She huffed and stormed off in a huff, clearly irritated—finally, some peace. Druella went back to her research, but before she could dive back into her notes, two familiar voices rang out from behind her.

Fred and George Weasley approached Druella at her usual spot in the library, their mischievous grins announcing their intentions long before they spoke. Fred slid into the seat across from her, his expression full of mischief. "We need your help," he began, his voice low enough not to draw Madam Pince's wrath.

George flanked her other side, leaning casually against the table. "Yeah, we've got a plan, but we need your touch to pull it off."

Druella didn't look up from her book, her tone dry. "What do you two want now?"

The twins exchanged a glance, clearly delighted that they had her attention—even if she didn't seem particularly enthusiastic. Fred leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "We were thinking you could help us... make Draco's life a little more interesting."

Her gaze finally lifted from the pages, her brow arching skeptically. "Interesting? What's that supposed to mean? Planning to prank him because he exists?"

George's grin widened. "You said it, not us. But yes, something along those lines. We want him to lose it, just a little."

Fred nodded eagerly. "Come on, Druella. Think of it as payback. For him. For Harriden. For all the pompous Malfoy nonsense you've had to deal with."

Druella narrowed her eyes at them, skeptical but intrigued. "Revenge? Against Draco? And indirectly against Aunt Narcissa?"

"Exactly!" Fred replied, his tone as if he'd just announced the most brilliant plan in wizarding history.

George leaned closer, his grin practically splitting his face. "We figured if she's keeping you from Hogsmeade, it's only fair to have a little fun at Draco's expense."

She tilted her head, considering their offer. The idea of her cousin being humiliated was tempting—his insufferable attitude and constant preening deserved a dose of humility. Still, Druella wasn't sure she wanted to stoop to the twins' level. But then again, Aunt Narcissa hadn't consulted her before deciding to keep her from Hogsmeade.

"I suppose..." she started slowly, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes, "it might be worth it to see Draco completely lose his mind for once."

Fred's grin turned sly. "Now you're talking!"

George pumped a fist in silent victory. "Brilliant. So, what do you say? Help us cook up something spectacular?"

Druella leaned back, crossing her arms. "Depends. What's the plan?"

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, sliding it toward her. "We were thinking something subtle, but effective. Like, say, making his hair change color every time he tries to focus on something."

She smirked, the beginnings of amusement creeping onto her face. "His hair?"

"Exactly," George confirmed. "You know how vain he is. Imagine him trying to keep his pristine Malfoy look while his hair cycles through every shade of the rainbow."

Druella picked up the notebook, flipping through the scribbled ideas, and let out a small chuckle despite herself. "Alright," she said, her tone deceptively casual, "but if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with this."

"Deal!" the twins said in unison, their eyes alight with glee.

As they walked off, clearly energized by the prospect of tormenting Draco, Druella allowed herself a small smile. It seemed this weekend wouldn't be so boring after all. 

Druella smirked slightly, already picturing the chaos Fred and George's plan would cause. "Sounds like something he deserves," she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice.

Fred grinned, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "We knew you'd be up for it."

"Draco won't know whether to scream or faint," George added, his grin widening as he clearly began imagining the scene.

Rolling her eyes, Druella leaned back in her chair. Despite herself, the idea was growing on her. "Fine, I'll help you—but don't make it obvious it was me."

"Deal!" Fred said, nodding firmly.

Both twins gave her a quick, exaggerated bow before sauntering off, whispering and plotting their next move. Druella watched them go, allowing herself a tiny smile. Aunt Narcissa wouldn't know what hit her—or Draco, for that matter. At least someone would get a little taste of revenge.

She turned back to her notes, scribbling furiously as she began brainstorming ideas. Her focus was soon interrupted by a soft rustle nearby. Glancing up, she found Professor Rowynn had quietly sat beside her. The serene, pastel-clad professor met Druella's gaze with calm curiosity.

Druella's expression immediately hardened. "Now is not the time, Professor. I'm in no mood," she said tersely, stuffing her book back into her bag.

Professor Rowynn didn't flinch at her curt response. Her voice remained soft and composed. "I heard you won't be going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Yep, that's right," Druella muttered, keeping her eyes downcast as she returned to her notes.

The professor tilted her head thoughtfully, her white hair catching the library's dim light. "Perhaps I could assist you with your Divination studies in the meantime," she offered.

Druella shook her head, her tone sharp. "No, thank you. I'm perfectly capable of managing on my own."

Rowynn's gaze flicked to the parchment in front of Druella. "And this research? Anything interesting? Any discoveries?"

Druella's eyes narrowed, her annoyance evident. "I don't see how that's any of your business," she muttered, her quill moving furiously across the parchment as if channeling her irritation into her notes.

A voice interrupted, sharp and mocking. "Whatever, little Professor's Pet," Pansy sneered from a nearby table, her lips curling into a smirk as she whispered something to her friends, eliciting quiet laughter.

Professor Rowynn turned slowly, her serene expression hardening. "Miss Parkinson," she said, calm but sharp enough to cut through the air, "mind your own bloody business. Or is stirring up petty drama all you're good for?"

Pansy froze, blinking in shock. "I—"

"Save it," Rowynn continued, her tone growing icier. "I've seen garden slugs with more use than your attitude. If you've got nothing better to do than sit around running your mouth, maybe you should consider a hobby—like actually studying." She crossed her arms, fixing Pansy with a steely gaze. "Or would that be too much effort for someone whose marks are barely hanging by a thread?"

The color drained from Pansy's face, and her friends quickly began gathering their things, glancing nervously at the professor. "Fine," Pansy spat, her bravado faltering. "We're leaving." She stormed off, her heels clicking furiously against the floor, her friends trailing behind her like shadows.

Rowynn watched them go, shaking her head in mild disdain. "Trollop's daughter," she muttered under her breath before turning her attention back to Druella.

"That girl seems to have a habit of targeting you," she remarked softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "What's the story there?"

Druella shook her head, her tone clipped and dismissive. "Not important," she said, refusing to lift her gaze from her parchment. She grabbed a nearby book, flipping it open with mechanical precision as if the act itself could shield her from further scrutiny. "I have studying to do."

Professor Rowynn observed her in silence for a moment, her sharp eyes catching every subtle detail. Druella's rigid posture, the slight tremor in her fingers as she turned the pages, the tightness in her jaw—it all spoke volumes. Bullying doesn't break her outwardly, Rowynn thought, but it leaves its mark. She's far too composed for someone her age, but that composure is fragile. Cracks are there, no matter how hard she tries to hide them.

Her thoughts wandered to Narcissa's earlier words about Druella's outburst. Narcissa had admitted her niece's anger was spilling over, a storm of frustration fueled by both the wounds of her past and the constraints of her present. And now, Rowynn could see the weight of it pressing down on the girl.

And then there's Pansy Parkinson. Rowynn's lips curled into a small, humorless smile. That girl is emboldened by something deeper than mere pettiness. Narcissa and Lucius's history undoubtedly stirs the fire. Pathetic, really—Pansy, of all people, should tread carefully.

She couldn't help but think of Narcissa's venomous disdain for Pansy and the way that animosity had only grown over the years. Narcissa had always been particular about who she allowed into her inner circle, and Pansy, the girl, never earned her trust. But now, with Pansy's cruel behavior toward Druella, Rowynn could see just how much that history fed Narcissa's fury. There was a simmering hatred that boiled beneath the surface whenever Narcissa's name was mentioned in relation to the Parkinson family, especially when it came to Pansy's unrelenting, spiteful behavior.

"Narcissa's fury isn't to be taken lightly," Rowynn mused, "with everything that's happened." The weight of the divorce, Lucius's betrayal, and the years of manipulation were all still fresh wounds in Narcissa's heart. "Pansy is walking on thin ice, as far as Narcissa is concerned. Narcissa is working, ruining his name and divorce from Grace due to her mother's actions and her affair with the Headmistress's husband, Lucius Malfoy. People are hearing about the ordeal and Lucius and the Parkenson's are having hell. Amaryllis left her husband and sadly got 50 percent of the wealth. It's not official, but everyone knows of her relationship with Lucius. The last thing Pansy needs is to make Narcissa's niece her next target. Ignorant, really, that girl, but I must focus on her as well."

Rowynn glanced at Druella again, her heart softening with a touch of empathy. "What a mess." Pansy, with her hollow arrogance, was digging herself into a hole, one that might swallow her whole if Narcissa's fury ever fully erupted. The Malfoy family's power was not something to be underestimated, not to mention the Black family. It may only be Druella and Bellatrix, but Bellatrix is a powerful figure, and Pansy's mother's shameful behavior was something Narcissa would never forgive. If there were a reckoning to come, Pansy would find herself in the middle of it.

Rowynn's thoughts returned to Druella. But Druella... she's caught in the crossfire of it all. She endures far more than anyone realizes, carrying the weight of both family history and personal pain, all while trying to prove she can handle it.

Druella's hands froze momentarily on the page, but she didn't look up. "I'm fine," she muttered, though her voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying her words.

Rowynn didn't press further. She knew the girl would push back against any overt display of concern. But as she straightened, she made a silent promise to keep an eye on Druella Malfoy—the prodigy whose brilliance masked the fragile girl beneath. She may carry herself with poise, but even the strongest need someone to lean on.

Druella eventually walked back to her seat, sighing heavily when she noticed the professor hadn't moved. "I'm busy, Professor," Druella said curtly, sinking back into her chair and grabbing her quill. "I have Transfiguration to study. McGonagall will be on me again if I'm not prepared."

Rowynn leaned back slightly, her gaze unwavering. "I imagine it's difficult to focus when distractions keep piling on."

Druella shot her an annoyed glance but didn't respond.

The professor tilted her head slightly. "Despite everything, you manage to keep going. That says something."

Druella ignored the comment, returning to her notes with single-minded determination. Rowynn observed her in silence for a moment longer, taking in the frustration in her movements and the quiet fire behind her focus.

Then, without warning, Rowynn reached over and snatched the parchment from Druella's desk.

"Hey!" Druella yelped, glaring at the professor as she clutched the space where her notes had been.

Rowynn scanned the page with mild curiosity. "These are ambitious potions you're studying," she said, her voice thoughtful. "You'll find some of the ingredients in the Forbidden Forest. But if you're determined to go alone, don't. It's too dangerous I can go with you if you want."

Druella lunged forward and snatched the parchment back, her face flushed with anger. "Professor, I don't need your help," she said sharply, shoving the notes into her bag.

Rowynn's expression remained calm, her voice is soft but firm. "Perhaps not. But you'd do well to let someone in now and then, Miss Black. It might make your path just a little smoother."

Druella slung her bag over her shoulder, avoiding Rowynn's gaze. "I have work to do," she muttered, storming off before the professor could say another word.

Rowynn remained seated, her thoughtful eyes following the girl as she disappeared down the library aisle. "A brilliant mind and a stubborn heart," she mused. "And a heavy burden for someone so young. Let's hope she realizes she doesn't have to bear it alone."

Druella lunged to snatch it back, but the professor held it out of reach, her tone light but insistent. "It's intriguing, really—making potions like these. Quite ambitious."

"Give it back!" Druella snapped, her voice low but brimming with frustration. She finally managed to reclaim the parchment, clutching it protectively. "I'm leaving."

Professor Rowynn smiled calmly, entirely unbothered. "Remember, the plants you're looking for are in the forest."

Without another word, Druella slung her bag over her shoulder and stormed off, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

\Druella was walking through the corridors, Morgana tightly nestled on her shoulders, her bag balanced carefully to keep from falling. But then, just as she turned a corner, she was bumped into. Morgana let out a startled meow, tumbling to the floor, and Druella's books scattered across the stone floor.

"Oh no, not again," Druella muttered under her breath, kneeling down to gather the scattered books. She looked up to see a familiar hand reaching for her.

"Sorry about that," came the voice of Blaise, and Druella looked up slightly annoyed.

"Um, sure," Druella replied, glancing at Morgana, who was now climbing back up to Druella's shoulders with ease. The cat perched herself confidently there, her tail flicking in mild irritation.

"Your cat sure likes you," Blaise remarked with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Druella couldn't suppress a small frown. "Yes, are you going to make fun of me, like all the girls in my dorm do?"

Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course not. In fact, I find it quite admirable."

Druella rolled her eyes, adjusting her bag as she balanced her books in one hand, Morgana still perched on her shoulder. "Yes, I try to take care of my cat," she muttered under her breath.

Blaise, noticing the change in her tone, reached out and handed her the strap of her satchel, which she had almost forgotten to pick up.

"Um, thanks," Druella said, accepting the bag reluctantly.

"Oh, sure, no problem," Blaise replied smoothly. "I'll always help you."

Druella hesitated. "Um, I don't..." She looked over and noticed Professor Snape reading a book from the corner of her eye. Raising an eyebrow at him, she quickly turned back to Blaise. "What's the deal with Professor Snape?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Blaise shrugged dismissively. "Oh, nothing. He's probably just reading about a potion."

Druella's brow furrowed as she remembered the book. "About werewolves?"

Blaise nodded, a hint of approval in his gaze. "Yes, maybe Wolfsbane."

Druella, still uncertain of his motives, followed Blaise as he led her away from the halls, out into the grounds. Morgana kept perfect balance on Druella's shoulders, and Druella couldn't help but wonder why Blaise was so insistent on staying by her side.

"Do you want to sit?" Blaise asked, stopping in a quiet spot on the edge of the grounds.

Druella blushed, a soft heat rising to her cheeks, as Morgana sat comfortably on her shoulders. She hesitated before sitting down, casting a glance around at the students walking by.

Morgana shifted slightly, and Blaise, seeing the hesitation in her eyes, gave her a reassuring smile. "Sorry you couldn't go to Hogsmeade."

Druella sighed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Aunt Narcissa being protective again," she muttered, trying to dismiss her irritation.

Blaise reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small wrapped gift. "I got you something," he said, holding it out to her.

Druella raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "Why did you get me something?"

Blaise smiled faintly, almost shyly. "Thought you might need a cheer up."

Druella stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the package in her hands, still unwilling to open it. "Why would you care? I know we're fellow Slytherins, but I've never really spoken to you since you bullied my friend Neville."

Blaise stiffened slightly, but his eyes softened. "Look, I haven't done it since, have I?"

Druella thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "No, you didn't. And I thank you for that."

Blaise gave her a small, approving smile. "Please open it."

Hesitant, Druella carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a delicate bracelet with a few chocolate balls hanging from it. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Wow, you remembered my favorite sweet," she said softly, her heart warming slightly at the thoughtful gesture.

Blaise reached out, taking the bracelet from her hands. "Of course, I always remember. Well," he said, his voice softer now, "I wanted to show you I care."

Druella blinked in confusion. "What? Why would you do that?"

Blaise chuckled lightly. "I wanted to make you smile."

Druella lowered her head, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I don't know," she muttered, unsure of what to make of his intentions.

Blaise's voice softened with reassurance. "It's okay, Druella. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He gently took her hand, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Morgana watched from Druella's shoulder, her eyes flicking between the two.

The moment felt fragile, almost too intimate, and Druella couldn't quite place what she was feeling. Why was Blaise being so kind? Why was he doing this? But before she could dwell on it too much, a voice interrupted them.

"Druella!" Narcissa's sharp tone echoed through the air. Druella groaned, her mood souring instantly as she looked up to see her aunt striding toward them.

"Damnit," Druella muttered. Blaise chuckled at Druella's words. They heard Narcissa walk over to them. "Welcome to my life, Blaise."

Narcissa came up to them, hands on her hips. "What are you doing?"

Druella sighed, standing up and brushing off her robes. "Nothing, just with my friend."

Narcissa didn't let her finish. "Why is Morgana on your shoulders? That's not proper."

Druella's frustration flared, but before she could respond, Narcissa gently scooped Morgana off Druella's shoulders with an air of control and fussed over her, smoothing the cat's fur. Druella clenched her jaw, annoyed.

"Would you cut it out?" she muttered, her patience wearing thin.

Narcissa's eyes flicked to the bracelet on Druella's wrist, a small frown creasing her brow. "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice more curious than stern.

Druella hesitated. "Blaise. It was a gift."

Narcissa's gaze flicked to Blaise, who was standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable but still offering a polite smile. Narcissa gave him a brief nod, but then her attention returned to Druella. Without warning, she scooped Druella up in her arms, pulling her close with a gentleness that bordered on smothering.

"Well, come along, dear. We must clean you up. Your robes are full of fur."

Druella groaned, crossing her arms in annoyance as her aunt led her away. "I can walk by myself, Aunt Narcissa," she muttered, but Narcissa didn't seem to hear her. Instead, she carried on, fussing over Druella as they made their way toward her office.

"We need to clean your robes. It's simply not proper for a lady of your stature to walk around with cats draped over her shoulders like accessories. You are the heir of the Black family, and it's important that you present yourself in the best light possible. So, once we get to my office, I will fix your makeup and put you into a fresh set of robes," Narcissa declared firmly, her voice echoing with authority.

Druella, however, felt a wave of annoyance wash over her, the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. She wished, more than anything, that her aunt would stop treating her like a child, as if she couldn't manage anything on her own.

"Would you please stop babying me!" Druella exclaimed, pushing away Narcissa's hands in frustration.

Narcissa placed her hands gently on Druella's shoulders, her touch meant to be calming. "Druella, you must calm down. You're letting your anger get the better of you again," she said softly, though her voice carried a firmness that suggested she was not about to let this outburst go unnoticed.

Druella's eyes flashed with defiance. "No! I'm sick of all of this! I can't handle it today or ever!" Her voice grew louder, echoing in the lavishly adorned hall. "I don't need this—just leave me alone!"

Her words hit Narcissa harder than she expected, and for a moment, the older woman faltered in her steps. Druella, seething, continued on, taking all her frustration out on the one person who always tried to make her feel safe.

"I'm not some damn doll to be dressed up and paraded around!" Druella slammed her hand down on a nearby table in frustration, the sound reverberating through the hallway. The anger was a storm inside her, a mix of exhaustion and humiliation. She was done. Done with the constant babbling of how she needed to look presentable, done with being treated like a fragile ornament, done with being told she needed to calm down when all she wanted was to scream.

Narcissa tried to steady her breath, trying not to be shaken by the force of her niece's emotions. She had seen this side of Druella before—the pain that was hidden just beneath the surface, the crackling anger that came from something deeper. But this wasn't just a tantrum. This was years of building frustration—years of being treated like a child, years of bearing the weight of her family's expectations.

Narcissa finally led Druella to the plush chair and gently coaxed her into sitting down. She sat across from her niece, watching with growing concern.

"I know this is about Lucius," Narcissa said softly, as though speaking the name would ease the tension. "But this isn't the only thing bothering you, is it?"

Druella folded her arms tighter, her expression hardening. "I don't care!" she shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation, betraying the hurt beneath the anger. "You don't get it. I don't care about him. I don't care about any of this!" Her voice cracked for just a moment, but she quickly recovered, the mask of anger settling back over her. She couldn't let her aunt see how fragile she really was, not when everything felt so out of control.

Narcissa understood that, whether Druella liked it or not, she would persist in "helping" her. Even if Druella attempted to push her away, Narcissa was determined to draw her back into the warmth of their family bond. With a resigned sigh, she reached for her makeup—a familiar routine that usually brought her some comfort—but Druella abruptly slapped her arm. The shock of the act sent a jolt through Narcissa. "You do not slap me like that," she admonished, her voice a mix of authority and disbelief, but Druella remained unrepentant, her stubbornness only intensifying the tension in the air.

Narcissa could see Druella's eyes glistening with unshed tears, and in that moment, her heart softened. "Now I've got you, Druella," she thought to herself. "You can't hold it in forever; my embrace will soothe you." Narcissa continued to reflect on her thoughts with a sense of urgency: "You don't need some foolish boy to make you happy. All you truly need is family—only family. I'm beginning to form a connection with Hermione. I won't allow you to drift away from me. Not now, not ever."

In a confident and soothing tone, she addressed her niece, "Now, no need to fuss, my dear. I will calm you down, even if you resist. Remember, while we're at Hogwarts, you are my responsibility. Yes, Bellatrix may be your primary caretaker during the school year, but I am here for you now." Druella continued to ignore her, prompting Narcissa to pinch her nose playfully. "You're so stubborn," she thought, a small smile forming on her lips. "But soon enough, you'll understand the depth of my love." As she hummed to herself, Narcissa prepared Druella's calming draught and placed it on her desk, determined to soothe her niece's stubbornness with her unwavering affection.

Narcissa placed her makeup back on the polished desk, her gaze steady on Druella, who continued to pout with her lips pressed into a stubborn line. Narcissa contemplated the next steps, thinking, "I must inform Bellatrix about this situation; she'll need to be consulted regarding any medical issues that might arise."

With purposeful steps, Narcissa walked toward her niece, her heels clicking against the floor, creating an echo that resonated in the dim room. She held her elegant posture high, determined to convey both strength and love, hoping to bridge the chasm of emotion between them.

"I understand that you're upset, and I'm here to listen. Please talk to me," Narcissa urged, her voice smooth and encouraging. She removed her gloves, an act meant to signify her commitment to comfort her niece. Druella's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

As Druella made a move to stand, Narcissa quickly pulled her into a warm embrace, hoping to provide some solace. "Get off me!" Druella hollered, struggling to free herself from Narcissa's grasp.

"Shh, relax. I understand you're upset," Narcissa whispered, maintaining her hold with gentle determination. Druella thrashed for a moment, her anger bubbling to the surface, but Narcissa knew that if she held on just a bit longer, Druella would eventually tire.

"Shhh, no need to fuss. You're safe here," Narcissa murmured. Druella continued to resist, yet as the struggle wore on, her tears began to escape, betraying the storm of emotions she was trying hard to contain.

Sensing the shift, Narcissa began to rub Druella's back soothingly, coaxing her to unwind. "No need to hold it all in anymore. Lucius is gone; you are not weak like he claimed. You are far stronger than he ever imagined," she reassured her, her voice a soothing balm amidst Druella's turmoil.

Druella shook her head, still trying to pull away. "Druella," Narcissa said softly, her tone laced with care, "You are angry, and that's okay. But you don't have to go through this alone. Aunt Cissy is here for you; just stay with me." 

Though Druella continued to lash out verbally, a part of her began to yield to the comfort offered by her aunt. Narcissa held her tight, patiently waiting for the moment when her niece would exhaust herself and let go of the pent-up frustration.

Finally, with tears streaming down her cheeks, Druella began to relax as Narcissa pressed her close, murmuring soothing words of comfort. "There, there. You may see me as overbearing, but it's all in the name of protection. You need that," Narcissa whispered gently, wrapping her arms around Druella firmly yet lovingly.

Druella whimpered softly, surrendering to the warmth and safety of Narcissa's embrace. Narcissa leaned in closer, her breath warm against Druella's ear. "Even if you don't recognize it, I will protect you from everyone and anything that threatens your peace. I will even protect you from yourself if it comes to that."

Narcissa held Druella until the young girl finally calmed down, her body growing heavy with exhaustion. Once she sensed that Druella was ready, Narcissa prepared her morning calming draught, ready to help her find her balance once more.

Later, as the chaos of the day settled into the routine of lunch in the Great Hall, Druella found herself at the Gryffindor table, casually eating while keeping a sharp eye on the Slytherin table.

Draco sat at his usual spot, exuding his typical Malfoy arrogance. His blonde hair was perfectly styled, and his posture screamed superiority, but Druella could see through the polished veneer. The cracks in his façade were subtle but satisfying. Today, however, she planned to widen those cracks into a full-blown fracture.

Fred and George had already set the prank in motion, and Druella could hardly wait for the show to begin.

She watched out of the corner of her eye, her expression a mask of indifference as she toyed with her food. The first sign of the prank's success was subtle—a faint darkening of Draco's pristine blonde hair. It shifted to a caramel hue, then to an unmistakable orange-red.

At first, Draco seemed oblivious, too absorbed in whatever pompous thought was occupying his mind. But when the transformation accelerated, and his hair became a fiery mess of ginger, his hand flew to his head. His alarmed shout echoed through the hall.

"What the hell is going on with my hair?!"

Draco's panicked attempts to smooth it down only worsened the spectacle. His once-polished locks were now a blazing Weasley-like orange, brighter with every passing second.

Druella allowed herself a fleeting glance around the hall, taking in the growing laughter. Students covered their mouths, their eyes wide with suppressed amusement. Even Draco's loyal Slytherin peers couldn't hide their smirks.

Draco's face matched his hair in redness as he stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his goblet. "This isn't happening," he muttered, his voice tight with embarrassment.

Druella leaned back, her satisfaction carefully hidden behind a calm exterior. Picking at her food, she feigned complete indifference to the scene she had orchestrated. Her small act of rebellion was her revenge against Narcissa for keeping her from Hogsmeade. Draco might act like the perfect Malfoy heir, but today, he'd get a taste of humility. For all the teasing, he deserves what he is about to experience.

Her amusement was short-lived, however, as a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the laughter.

"What is going on here?"

The room fell silent instantly.

Druella stiffened. Professor stood at the staff table, her icy gaze sweeping the hall like a winter storm. Druella tried to maintain her composure, but her heart sank as her aunt's piercing eyes locked onto her.

Narcissa's expression briefly softened when her gaze fell on Draco, but it quickly returned to its usual cool, composed mask.

"Draco," she said, her voice ringing out. "What is this nonsense?"

Draco froze mid-motion, his hands still tangled in his flaming hair. "It—it's not my fault!" he stammered, his face crimson with mortification. "Someone cursed me! Something's wrong with my hair!"

Narcissa's eyebrow arched with elegant skepticism. "A curse?" Her tone dripped with disbelief as her gaze scanned the room again. When it lingered a moment too long on Druella, a wave of nervous anticipation rippled through her.

"I highly doubt this is a curse, Draco. This seems far more... deliberate."

Druella held her breath as Narcissa's eyes bore into her. She schooled her features into a mask of calm indifference, even as her pulse raced.

"Druella," Narcissa called out, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "I trust you had nothing to do with this... correct?"

Druella met her aunt's icy stare with practiced ease, keeping her tone cool and collected. "Of course not, Aunt Narcissa," she replied smoothly. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Narcissa's gaze lingered, her sharp instincts clearly at work. But Druella held firm, her neutral expression betraying none of the amusement bubbling beneath the surface.

After a tense pause, Narcissa's lips pressed into a thin line. "We will discuss this later," she said curtly, turning her attention back to Draco.

Druella exhaled quietly, relief mixing with satisfaction. Whatever consequences awaited her later, they would be worth it. The fiery spectacle of Draco Malfoy's humiliation was more than enough to brighten her day.

Narcissa's lips thinned as she nodded, though I could see a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. She wasn't fooled, but she also didn't press the issue—at least not right here in front of everyone.

"Draco," Narcissa continued, her voice clipped, "I expect this to be dealt with immediately. Go to the hospital, and I will expect Madam Pomfrey to resolve this issue. Now."

Draco didn't argue. He was far too embarrassed, his face beet red, as he stormed out of the Great Hall, his ginger hair bobbing with every furious step. The room was still buzzing with laughter and whispers, but it quickly died down as everyone returned to their meals. 

Druella herself, however, didn't so much as flinch. She took another bite of her food, savoring the sweet satisfaction of getting back at her aunt in such a devious, clever way.

Druella could feel Narcissa's eyes lingering on her, but she wasn't worried. The moment was hers to enjoy.

After all, in this family, someone had to make sense.

She was walking down the corridor when she noticed the Gryffindors huddled in small groups, their faces pale and filled with confusion. Something was definitely wrong. The usual chatter had fallen silent, replaced by nervous whispers and fearful glances.

Hermione grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. Her grip was firm, urgent. "Stay with me," she said, her voice tight with worry.

Druella frowned and looked up at her. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

Before Hermione could respond, Ginny rushed over, her face flushed with panic. "The Fat Lady... she's gone!" she gasped, breathless.

Druella's stomach tightened as she turned to look. The Fat Lady's portrait—always a symbol of Gryffindor pride, her face forever smiling and regal—was now completely destroyed. The frame hung crookedly on the wall, the torn remnants of her portrait barely clinging to the fabric. It looked as though someone had violently ripped through it.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Aunt Narcissa," Druella murmured under her breath, a knot forming in her stomach. She looked around, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Just as the situation seemed to reach a boiling point, Druella spotted Narcissa striding toward them, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. The sound echoed through the corridor, each step more purposeful than the last. Filch, his face a mix of confusion and frustration, trailed behind her, looking utterly out of place in this scene of mounting tension.

Narcissa's sharp gaze swept over the group of students before she demanded in an icy voice, "What is this? Where is the Fat Lady?"

A few students muttered uncertainly, but no one had a clear answer. Narcissa's eyes flicked over to Filch. "Filch, have the ghosts search for her. Now," she ordered.

Before Filch could react, a voice rang out from overhead, and it was unmistakable.

"No need for that, Ma'am. I've already found her."

The Fat Lady's voice was not her usual cheery, imperious tone, but strained, frightened. Druella looked up to see her floating lazily above them, but there was no mischievous gleam in her eyes—only a look of deep unease.

"She's not herself," the Fat Lady continued, her voice quiet and measured, as if she was trying to make sense of something that didn't quite fit. "Eyes like the devil, Headmistress. And a soul black than his name."

The words sent a chill through Druella. She swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with sudden dread. Who could she possibly be talking about?

Hermione's grip on Druella's arm tightened. Her eyes darted nervously to the Fat Lady, who was still hovering above them, visibly shaken.

"It's him," the Fat Lady continued, her voice cracking with fear. "The one they all talk about. Sirius Black."

The name hung in the air like an icy fog. Druella felt the collective fear that rippled through the group. The atmosphere froze. The very air seemed to grow heavy and cold. Sirius Black. The name that had been whispered in dark corners, the name that terrified the Wizarding World, the name that haunted everyone's nightmares.

A traitor. A murderer.

Druella could feel the weight of the moment settle on her, a deep, unnerving chill crawling up her spine. She looked at Hermione, whose expression was pale, her hand trembling ever so slightly.

Narcissa's eyes flashed toward them, her sharp gaze flicking between the students. "Stay calm," she commanded, her voice filled with authority. "Everyone, go to the Great Hall. Now."

Her voice brooked no argument, and the students immediately began to shuffle away, a sea of frightened faces moving swiftly toward the Great Hall. But the tension remained thick in the air. Druella could feel a foreboding sense of something much darker looming over them all.

As the students dispersed, Druella felt a heavy weight settle deep in her chest. This was only the beginning.

Her gaze lingered on Druella for a brief moment, and she could feel her concern, though Narcissa didn't show it. Her expression shifted, and she turned to Professor Snape, who had emerged from the shadows. His normally calm demeanor now betrayed a hint of urgency.

"Severus," Narcissa said, her voice colder now. "What is happening here?"

Snape's eyes darted over the wreckage of the portrait. "I'm afraid there's more than just this, Headmistress," he replied, his tone grim. "The Slytherin portrait was destroyed as well."

Druella's heart sank. She went pale at the realization. "He's looking for me along with Harry," she thought, the weight of fear pressing down on her. 

Hermione's grip on her arm tightened as she pulled closer, her protective instincts flaring. "Stay close to me, Druella," she murmured, her voice low but firm. "Don't let go of me."

Druella nodded, trying to push back the panic rising inside her. Narcissa turned back to Snape, her face now set in cold determination.

"Gather the Slytherins, Professor," she ordered. "Get them to the Great Hall immediately."

Her voice cut through the tense air, stern and authoritative. "Severus, Filch," she commanded, her eyes sharp. "Secure the castle. Make sure no one leaves. We need to be prepared for anything."

Snape nodded at once, his face drawn with concern as he turned to carry out the order. Filch, looking more rattled than usual, hurried after him, muttering under his breath.

Narcissa's eyes flicked over to Harry, who had appeared by her side. His expression was steady, but there was no mistaking the determination in his gaze. "Professor Malfoy," he said, his voice unwavering, "I'll help in any way I can."

Narcissa glanced at him, her face impassive. "This is not your battle, Mr. Potter," she replied firmly, her tone brokering no argument. "Stay close, but do not do anything reckless."

She turned her attention back to the group of students, her voice commanding. "Everyone, to the Great Hall. Now."

Hermione kept Druella close, her arm wrapped around her as they moved. The air around them seemed heavy, as if the very walls of Hogwarts were holding their breath. Every step they took felt like a weight pulling them deeper into the unknown.

Once inside the Great Hall, Hermione led Druella to a quiet corner, her hand resting gently on her shoulder as she guided her. Her friend's comforting presence was enough to steady her nerves, even as the uncertainty pressed in.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a purple and black zip-up sweatshirt decorated with delicate flower symbols. "I meant to give you this," she said softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "I got it for you at Hogsmeade. I thought you'd love it."

Druella smiled faintly, a flush rising to her cheeks as she slipped it on. It was a little too big, but it was comfortable, and the soft fabric immediately felt like a shield against the world outside.

Just then, Draco spotted them and hurried over, his face a mixture of relief and concern. "Good, you're safe," he said, his voice laced with unspoken worry. It's shocking to Druella because of his endless bullying this year. But before Druella could respond, Hermione gently nudged her closer, ensuring she was steady before letting her answer. The tension in the room was palpable, and every minute seemed to stretch longer than the last."You're safe here," Hermione added quietly, her hand still on my arm, her eyes soft but watchful. She wasn't just a friend anymore; she was more like a big sister, always ensuring I was all right, even when I didn't want to admit I wasn't.

I nodded, my chest tight with anxiety. "You're lucky you weren't there. I noticed him there, along with other students. If you were there, he would've found you."

My face flushed, relieved I'd avoided a much closer encounter. Aunt Narcissa's voice broke through the tension in the room. "Everyone stays here tonight."

A collective groan echoed from the students, but Aunt Narcissa's tone was firm, and her gaze left no room for argument. "My decision is final."

All the students were irritated by the forced arrangement—Slytherins and Gryffindors together in the same hall. Many were complaining, their voices rising in a chorus of frustration. Narcissa, standing at the front, raised her hand, her presence commanding attention. "Enough," she said, her voice cold and firm. "You know the rules. Perhaps this will be the time to help your houses get along."

A few students groaned audibly, the tension thick in the room. Filch, who had been lurking at the back, stepped forward, his usual scowl in place. "Enough, you little brats," he barked, his voice like gravel.

But Narcissa's gaze shot toward him with a coldness that silenced the room. "We've discussed this, Filch," she said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You will not speak to the students like that." Filch seemed to shrink under her gaze, quickly bowing his head in apology. His respect for Narcissa was well-known, especially since she had taken over as Headmistress. Druella, watching from the side, could see how Filch's demeanor softened whenever Narcissa was near. The way he kept Mrs. Norris away from Morgana now, following Narcissa's every instruction, was proof enough of the sway she held over him.

Filch reluctantly nodded, murmuring, "Yes, Headmistress." He shuffled off to gather the temporary beds, his respect for her evident in every step.

Druella and Hermione watched as Filch began setting up the mattresses. Morgana, sensing Druella's frustration, bounded over to her and nuzzled against her. Druella's expression softened, and she instinctively picked up her cat, cradling her close. "We're just sleeping here tonight," she whispered, her voice quieter now, seeking comfort from her familiar.

Hermione, curious, tilted her head. "Do you talk to your cat?" she asked, a genuine question laced with interest.

Druella glanced at her friend, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. "Yes," she muttered softly. Hermione blinked in surprise, but Druella didn't seem ashamed. "You too?" Druella asked, sensing the change in Hermione's tone.

Hermione nodded, her voice low but open. "Yeah, I do. I thought you might think I was mad."

Druella smiled, shaking her head. "Oh, no, I talk to Morgana all the time, especially in the common room. I whisper to her, so I'm not alone. Sometimes, it's the only way to have some company."

Druella's voice dropped slightly, her eyes drifting to where Blaise and Draco were setting up their beds. She sighed, her frustration creeping back in. "Draco and Blaise are the only nice ones lately. Despite Draco's name and reputation, he doesn't go that far."

Hermione, still concerned, reached out and gently grabbed Druella's arm. "What do you mean?"

Before Druella could answer, Narcissa's voice rang out, commanding attention. "Well now that it's settled, tonight you'll all sleep in here," she announced, her gaze scanning the room, eyes sharp as ever. "With Sirius Black in the castle, we can't be too careful."

She clapped her hands, a crisp sound that echoed through the hall. "Now, grab your beds and set them up. I expect everyone to cooperate."

The students groaned collectively, but Narcissa stood unyielding, her expression stern. She may have been compassionate, but there was no room for defiance in her eyes now. "Everyone, grab your beds and set them up immediately."

As the students shuffled to comply, Narcissa's gaze softened ever so slightly when it landed on Druella, who was still visibly upset. She wanted to help, to smooth over the girl's frustrations, but Druella, in her defiance, pushed her hands away. "I'll do it myself, Aunt Narcissa," Druella muttered, her tone heavy with irritation.

Narcissa sighed, her brow furrowing. What's going on with this girl? she wondered. But her thoughts quickly shifted to something more important. She could see Druella's anger wasn't just a passing fit. Something deeper was troubling her. Narcissa would find the cause, and when she did, she would do everything she could to fix it.

"Everybody into your beds," Narcissa ordered firmly, her voice brokering no argument. The older students grumbled, but Narcissa's gaze was unwavering.

"Anyone caught outside their bed will receive detention," she added, her voice sharp. The students knew she meant it.

As the last bed was set up, Druella, now lying down, stared at the ceiling, her mind still racing with frustration. Narcissa glanced over at her, her heart aching for her niece. There was a part of Narcissa that wanted to go to her, to console her, but she knew better than to push too hard. Druella needed space, but Narcissa would make sure she never felt alone in that space.

"Sleep, everyone," Narcissa added in a softer tone, her gaze sweeping over the students once more. "I expect you all to rest. We have much to do tomorrow, and I will not tolerate any disruptions."

Hermione gently guided Druella to an empty spot on the floor, helping her settle down on the blanket. Druella, tired and withdrawn, clutched her blanket tightly, her face reflecting the exhaustion she couldn't quite shake. Hermione, noticing the heaviness in the air, spoke softly. "It's nice, isn't it? Having someone care about our sleep like Narcissa does. Like I do."

Druella, still lying beside her, didn't respond at first. She simply nodded, the motion slow and heavy. She wasn't sure how to respond to Hermione's attempt at comforting her. She just wanted to sleep.

Hermione's voice broke through again, quieter this time. "Are you scared of Sirius Black?"

Druella turned her head slowly to face Hermione, her expression tight with frustration. "I just want to go to bed, Hermione. I'm tired of his threat ruining my life." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, but the weight of it was undeniable.

Hermione's brow furrowed in sympathy. "Oh come on now, it's not that bad. We're safe here."

But Druella shook her head, a quiet resolve in her eyes. "Yes, it is. Aunt Narcissa won't let me go to Hogsmeade. She never lets me out of her sight. She... she controls everything. Even my life." Her words hung in the air, thick with an emotion she couldn't quite put into words.

Luna Lovegood, who had been quietly sitting beside them, suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft and dreamy, as though she hadn't quite realized she was part of the conversation. "You have someone to care like that," she said, her eyes unfocused but warm, directed at Druella.

Druella turned, surprised to see Luna so close, sitting between her and Hermione. "How did you get here? You're a Ravenclaw," she asked, her voice thick with confusion.

Luna looked at her with a distant smile. "Oh, I was just searching for the wrackspurts," she said as if that explained everything.

Druella raised her eyebrow "What are you?"

Hermione, leaning in closer to Druella, whispered under her breath, "She's sleepwalking."

Druella nodded slowly, her gaze softening. Luna's faraway tone didn't seem strange at all to her now. She had met people who were lost in their own worlds, people who didn't quite fit into the usual order. Luna, in that moment, seemed like someone living in two worlds at once.

"My mum died years ago," Luna continued, her voice unsteady now as she unconsciously closed her eyes.

Druella gasped, her heart clenching. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with a tenderness she hadn't realized she was capable of.

Luna blinked slowly, as though the words hadn't quite registered. "Yes, I miss her. I miss her love and comfort," Luna said quietly, her eyes distant but filled with an unspoken longing.

The conversation was interrupted as Narcissa appeared, walking over with a soft but concerned expression. "Luna," she said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sleepwalking again?"

Luna looked up at Narcissa, as though she had just realized she was there. Her eyes were still unfocused, but her voice was softer now. "Yes, I'm just looking for the wrackspurts," she murmured.

Narcissa, ever composed, leaned down to Luna's level and smiled kindly, though her eyes were filled with sympathy. "Come on, love, let's get you back to Ravenclaw Tower. You need rest." Narcissa extended her hand, helping Luna to her feet. Despite Luna's confused state, Narcissa guided her gently, leading her towards the door.

Druella watched the exchange quietly, her heart aching for Luna. She couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of losing a mother at that young an age, of not having someone to hold you close, to care for you like Narcissa and Bellatrix had always done for her. Druella felt a deep sense of sorrow for Luna, realizing how much she missed out on without the presence of a mother. She couldn't understand the loneliness Luna must have lived with, growing up without that maternal figure to nurture and protect her. She missed Bellatrix a great deal not being here to keep Narcissa from coddling her. But she was at least glad that Narcissa was there.

As Narcissa and Luna made their way to the door, Narcissa glanced over her shoulder and spoke to the students who were now settling down in the makeshift sleeping arrangements. "Everyone, go to sleep now," Narcissa called, her voice firm but still carrying that gentle care.

Druella sighed, her chest tight with unease. The night was long, but with no Morgana to protect her, it felt like the world was closing in around her. She couldn't push the fear away, couldn't stop thinking about Sirius and the threat hanging over them all.

And yet, as Luna's soft voice echoed in her mind—I miss her love and comfort—Druella found herself feeling a deep sympathy for the girl who had lost her mother. She didn't know what it was like to live without someone like that, someone who truly cared, but Luna's words hit her in a way she hadn't expected.

Druella's thoughts shifted to Narcissa and Bellatrix, who always took care of her, even when Druella didn't understand why. Narcissa, who had been there for her, always guiding her, always pushing her forward—even when Druella resisted. Bellatrix her mother who she fearsly protected her the only one who sees Bellatrix's soft spot. Bellatrix is Druella's rock and her mother who cares despite her being a former Death Eater. 

In that moment, lying there with her mind swirling in confusion, Druella realized just how lucky she was. Though she still feared the darkness closing in around her, she found comfort in the thought that she wasn't alone—not truly.

It wasn't just the Dementors that made Druella's heart race. It was the memories of home—the constant arguments between her aunt and uncle. The shouts of Lucius and Narcissa echoed in her mind, and she could still vividly remember the final argument before Lucius had been kicked out. Narcissa's scream at him for cheating on her played over in her head, and she could almost feel the sting of that moment.

She remembered how Narcissa had struck him, her palm slapping his face with sharp, unforgiving force. How she beat him frightens Druella, seeing her on her bad side. Druella laid down, shutting her eyes and making sure no one knew she was awake.

Narcissa's voice suddenly rang out, sharp and commanding, breaking through the memories. "All the students are safe," she said, her eyes scanning the room with unwavering authority. Filch, lantern in hand, nodded and reported, "I've searched the Astronomy Tower and the Owlery, Ma'am. Nothing there."

"Good. Thank you," Narcissa replied coolly, her control never wavering. She turned to Professor Snape, whose face was inscrutable as ever, but Druella could sense a flicker of something in his eyes.

"I've checked the dungeons, Headmistress. No sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle," Snape reported, his voice steady, though there was a hint of admiration in his words.

Druella lay as still as she could, praying they wouldn't realize she was awake. She felt Filch's passing presence nearby and held her breath, forcing herself to remain stiff and motionless.

Narcissa's voice once again cut through the silence, sharp and firm. "I knew he might be here."

Professor Snape's voice dropped lower, almost admiring. "Remarkable, don't you think? To enter Hogwarts Castle on their own, completely undetected?"

Druella flinched at the sound of his voice, her heart pounding in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, hoping they wouldn't notice her, her pulse racing louder than ever. Narcissa sighed, her presence seeming to hover nearby. Druella could feel her eyes on her, even though she didn't dare to open them. "Yes, I'm aware," Narcissa replied softly, but her tone carried an unmistakable edge of danger.

Snape's voice dropped even lower. "Any theories on how it was managed?"

"I have my suspicions," Narcissa answered quietly but sharply. Her footsteps moved closer to Druella, and she felt her gaze linger on her for a split second. Druella held her breath pleading in her head that she wouldn't be noticed. Narcissa walked past her, but the weight of her gaze lingered, causing Druella's heart to beat even faster.

Narcissa crouched beside Harry then, her movements deliberate and graceful. Gently, she adjusted his messy hair, her fingers brushing against his forehead before carefully placing his glasses on the floor beside him. "You're safe, Harry. I've got you," she whispered softly, her voice filled with reassurance but also an unmistakable sense of control. Her words, though quiet, carried the undeniable weight of authority, and Druella felt a strange, protective warmth emanate from her aunt, a stark contrast to the fear that still gripped her chest.

Druella held her breath, hoping that they wouldn't notice her eyes flickering beneath her closed lids. She wasn't sure why the fear gripped her so tightly, but she suspected it had to do with everything that had happened at home. The remnants of Lucius's anger still haunted her, lingering in the corners of her mind, whispering the harsh things he'd said and done. And then there was Narcissa—who changed after Lucius's departure. 

Druella's mind flashed back to the last thing she remembered clearly—when her mother had carried her out during their argument. She didn't know exactly what had happened afterward, but she'd accepted the situation without asking further. The confusion and fear of those moments were still with her.

Professor Snape's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. "You may recall, before the start of term, that I expressed concerns about your appointment with Professor Lupin."

Narcissa's sigh reverberated through the dimly lit hall, her impatience palpable in the air. "Yes, Severus, I understand your concerns," she said, her tone edged with frustration. "But I don't believe any of the professors assisted Sirius in entering the castle." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with a faint note of agreement. "However, you may be onto something. I might need to convene a meeting to clarify that it's untrue."

Druella felt Narcissa's piercing gaze settle on her yet again, an unsettling sensation creeping down her spine, as if Narcissa knew she was not truly asleep. Druella maintained an expressionless facade, her breaths slow and steady, striving to remain perfectly still, terrified to move even a muscle.

With a commanding presence, Narcissa raised her voice, addressing the gathered students like a queen surveying her court. "Tomorrow, I will send you all back to your houses, but I'll be keeping a vigilant eye on both Harry and Druella."

Professor Snape's voice cut through the tension, colder and more distant than usual. "I must remind you once again, Narcissa, that Miss Black's ability to repel the Dementors weakens them, draining them of their dark magic." His tone was clinical, as if he was reciting facts in a classroom. "My class and the Professor's cover this. During the meeting as well, it's evident that she possesses this extraordinary ability. Bellatrix, during her time in Azkaban, could have wielded it. This girl's gift drains them of their dark magic more effectively than anything previously witnessed. Given that your cousin Sirius Black is on the loose, the Dementors posted here will ensure the safety of both him and Potter."

Narcissa's reply came swiftly, her words sharp and filled with a sense of urgency. "Yes, yes, I am fully aware. We are both acutely aware of the reason I insisted they be stationed here. The Ministry desired their presence, and I complied." She turned slightly, her eyes glinting ominously. "But this arrangement will ensure that they are weakened and that Sirius is captured. He will face the Dementor's Kiss." Turning her gaze back to Druella, who was feigning sleep, she felt the tension between them. Druella feared that if Narcissa realized she was awake, her silence would be shattered. "It's like addressing two problems with a single hex. Sirius will pay for betraying the family, and the Dementors will grow weaker."

Snape's voice softened, a reverence threading through his words. "Miss Black exerts a unique influence over them, siphoning away their power."

Narcissa nodded, though caution tinged her response. "Yes, but we must tread carefully. Druella needs to be wise and cautious when utilizing her power against them."

"We must prepare her for what lies ahead. Should we disclose everything to her?" Snape asked, his tone neutral, conveying uncertainty about the appropriate course of action.

Narcissa hesitated for a brief moment before responding with conviction. "Not yet."

Druella could feel the air shift as her aunt approached, a palpable presence that cast a looming shadow over her small frame. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to remain perfectly still, though her heart raced wildly in her chest like a caged bird desperate to escape. Narcissa crouched down beside her, her voice soft and soothing, barely above a whisper, meant solely for Druella's ears. "She needs sleep first. Let her dream in dreamland for now," she murmured, her words wrapping around Druella like a comforting blanket.

As Narcissa gently caressed Druella's cheek, Druella could feel the warmth of her aunt's hand, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within her. The older woman looked up at Snape, her gaze filled with concern. "Poor girl has endured so much. We both know what she's faced. I can tell she hasn't slept," Narcissa continued, her voice tinged with an ache that spoke of shared worries. Snape observed with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity, watching Narcissa's tender gestures as Druella pretended to be asleep. "I know there's more than she's telling me. Allanah has informed me of some incidents," he said, shaking his head slightly, a flicker of disdain crossing his features. "Ah yes, I remember her. She's quite something; I find her odd, if you ask me."

Narcissa let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she met Snape's gaze. "Yes, I've already discussed this with you. She's fine. I won't fire her. As long as she teaches the students and keeps certain ones in check, I don't care how she conducts her class. Her methods may seem unconventional, but they're effective; they get the point across very well," she replied, her tone resolute, a protective edge in her words.

Druella remained motionless, her heart pounding as she hoped her aunt wouldn't realize she was awake, desperately wanting to remain within the cocoon of her aunt's concern. Narcissa adjusted the blanket over her once more, tucking it in snugly, and her fingers brushed Druella's hair softly, the gesture filled with weighty intent. The quiet words that followed lingered in Druella's mind, echoing long after Narcissa had left the room.

"No one but me and Bella can keep you safe, Druella. Remember that," Narcissa's voice resonated in her thoughts, carrying a sense of foreboding and loyalty.

Those words repeated in Druella's mind like a haunting mantra, resonating with an eerie finality. She could feel the truth behind them, a chilling realization that left her feeling colder and more isolated, even amid the warmth of her aunt's touch. As Narcissa's presence slowly faded into the distance, Druella was left enveloped in a profound silence, the quiet hum of the hall wrapping around her like a shroud, the heavy impact of her aunt's words hanging in the air, echoing in her thoughts.

Druella closed her eyes tightly, letting her aunt's words settle in her mind, each a sharp reminder of the reality she had to face. It wasn't just the looming threat of Dementors or the absence of Lucius that troubled her—it was the fractured nature of her family, the gaping spaces left behind by their actions. Her once safe world had been shattered, and now, a constant sense of uncertainty lingered in the corners of her thoughts. Narcissa and Bellatrix were the only ones who could keep her safe, but that truth, though protective, was also terrifying. Despite their fierce devotion, there were forces beyond their control, things that no amount of care or protection could shield her from. It was that realization, the knowledge of her vulnerability, that kept her awake.

But there was something else, something more unsettling—a feeling that twisted inside her. The magic in her had been growing stronger, unpredictable in ways she couldn't quite grasp. The Dementors—how she had repelled them, weakened them with nothing but the strength of her own power—left her both awestruck and terrified. It wasn't just the way they had been driven back that disturbed her, but the sensation of power that surged through her when she did it. Her connection to magic felt deeper, more dangerous than ever before, and Narcissa's words had only made that feeling worse. It was weakening the Dementors. It wasn't just a warning; it was an unspoken secret. A hidden truth that Druella wasn't sure she was ready to understand, or even fully comprehend.

The question lingered in the air like smoke, swirling in her mind: could she truly trust that only Narcissa and Bellatrix could keep her safe? And what would happen if something went wrong? What if she couldn't control it? What if, one day, the magic inside her turned against herself or hurt someone else?

Druella let out a shaky breath, her chest tight with the weight of her thoughts. She remained perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, but the worry gnawed at her relentlessly. Every passing moment seemed to stretch out longer than the last, each heartbeat more frantic as her mind raced. There was no escaping it—not the fear, not the uncertainty, and not the growing unease that seemed to settle deeper within her with every passing second. The knowledge that her own magic might be her undoing was something she couldn't ignore. It wasn't just the Dementors or the threats outside her family that she had to fear—it was the unknown that lay within herself.

Druella lay on the cold floor, her body restless as sleep overtook her. The dreams began innocently, a swirl of colors and warmth. But quickly, the darkness closed in, and the images twisted into a suffocating nightmare.

"No... please, I didn't do it," she mumbled, her voice fraught with terror. Shadows began to form into familiar figures. Lucius emerged from the gloom, his cold, hate-filled eyes pinning her in place.

"You're nothing but a disgrace," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "You'll ruin this family just like your mother did."

Druella shook her head frantically, her body trembling as she backed away. "I didn't do anything wrong!" she cried.

Lucius's wand flashed in the dream, and with a sharp motion, he flicked it toward her. "Liar!" he hissed. A heavy force slammed into her chest, sending her sprawling to the floor in her nightmare. She gasped for air, the phantom pain in her ribs making her thrash violently in reality.

"You think you're special because of your magic?" Lucius's voice taunted, growing louder and crueler. He advanced on her, grabbing her arm tightly. "You're a burden, Druella. Nothing more. A child who should never have been born! You're nothing but a curse so is this so called magic of yours!"

Druella looked at him "Please." Lucius hit her. "You're magic is only a curse."

"Stop, please!" she whimpered, her hands reaching into the empty air. Her young mind couldn't distinguish the dream from reality, and her body jerked uncontrollably on the floor.

The dream shifted suddenly, and she was no longer in Lucius's grip but in the warm, familiar halls of the manor. She was younger now, her small hands clutching desperately at her mother's robes.

"Mother, please don't leave!" Druella cried, her young voice trembling with desperation.

Bellatrix knelt down, pulling Druella into her arms with a rare tenderness. "Oh, Black Blossom," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Druella's tear-streaked face. "I have to go, but you are strong, aren't you? Strong like me."

Druella clung tighter, shaking her head. "I don't want to be strong. I want you to stay."

Bellatrix's dark eyes softened, a flicker of guilt passing through them. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Druella's forehead. "I'll come back to you, I promise," she said quietly. "You're my fierce girl, Druella. No one else in this world could ever compare to you."

"But what if you don't come back?" Druella whispered, her voice cracking.

Bellatrix's grip on her tightened. "I will," she said firmly. "And if I don't, your Aunt Narcissa will always protect you. You'll never be alone, my love."

At that moment, Narcissa appeared her presence calming but firm. "Bellatrix, it's time," she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Bellatrix hesitated, giving Druella one last look before gently placing her into Narcissa's waiting arms. Druella wailed, reaching for her mother, but Narcissa held her close, soothing her trembling niece.

"Hush, darling," Narcissa murmured, cradling Druella as she sobbed. "Your mother will come back, but for now, you're safe with me. I'll take care of you."

"You promise?" Druella whimpered, clutching at Narcissa desperately.

"I promise," Narcissa said, her tone steady and warm. "You'll always have me."

The memory dissolved into the present, but the raw ache of abandonment lingered. The warmth of Bellatrix's touch and Narcissa's protective embrace faded into the cold, unyielding floor of Druella's nightmare.

In the real world, Druella's thrashing grew more violent, her limbs flailing as though fighting an unseen force. Her head twisted side to side, her face wet with tears.

The other students grew increasingly irritated in the nearby beds, their sleep disturbed by Druella's cries. Draco, his pillow pulled tightly over his head, tried to block out the noise. Unable to look away, Hermione stared at Druella's contorted expression, helplessness flooding her chest. Harry and Ron did the same, wide-eyed, as they watched Druella's body jerk in distress.

"Bloody hell, what's happening to her?" Ron muttered, his confusion evident in his voice.

Draco, however, said nothing. His cousin's screams pierced through the walls of the great hall, and though he felt uneasy, he remained silent.

Narcissa heard the chaos from the hallway, Filch informing her of Druella's continued screams. Without hesitation, she made her way to the source of the disturbance.

Narcissa, was already moving toward Druella, her steps purposeful. Kneeling beside her niece, she placed a hand on her trembling body. "Druella, wake up," she whispered softly, her voice a balm in the chaos.

Druella's eyes shot open, gasping for breath, her heart racing in her chest as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her. Narcissa's gaze softened as she looked at her niece, gently cupping her face. "Everything's okay. You're safe, don't worry."

Narcissa scooped Druella into her arms without hesitation, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry. Druella, still shaken, didn't protest, clinging to Narcissa's warmth. As they moved through the hall, Druella's eyes were wide with fear, the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Filch, who had been instructed to fetch her bed from the hall, did so begrudgingly, his irritation barely masked by the formality of his nod.

Narcissa turned to him. "Bring Druella's bed to my office. She's sleeping somewhere else tonight."

Filch didn't argue. He knew better than to cross Narcissa Malfoy, especially when she was in this kind of mood.

As they entered Narcissa's office, Druella was placed gently on a soft chair, still unsettled. She fidgeted with her hands, twisting her fingers anxiously, her fragile state making her appear far younger than twelve. She felt small, exposed, and lost. But Narcissa watched her niece closely, her expression a mixture of affection and understanding.

"Druella, it's okay," Narcissa murmured, her voice low and soothing. "You're still young. It's okay to be like this sometimes. You're allowed to act like a child, alright?"

Druella nodded quietly, her shoulders sagging in relief. She blew a lock of hair from her face, the act childish but somehow comforting. Narcissa smiled softly, letting her do so, the tenderness in her eyes reflecting a deep sense of protection. Druella needed this—she needed to be treated with care, to be allowed to be vulnerable in a way she hadn't been for so long.