Love and Monster Ch. 5 (Patreon)

Hermione Granger made her way down the stairs from her dorm. Her roommates, Millicent, Tracey and Morag, were getting ready, having woken up when Hermione had already hopped into the showers.

The girls had been nice. So far, everyone had been nice. For Hermione, who had struggled to make any friends in elementary school, it was like a breath of fresh air. Ever since she'd found out about magic, there had been a deep seated fear. A fear that despite being among people like her, she would still just be an annoying bookworm.

But everyone treated her nicely. No one cared that she hadn't grown up with magic.

As she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, she spotted Draco sitting by the fireplace, talking animatedly with Neville and a stocky older boy.

“I tell you, it's the same one from all those years ago. No doubt about it.” Draco said.

“It's just like we thought, Potter's probably been scurrying off to see those beasts.” The older boy said.

“In grammar school, he would always disappear right after classes. I almost never saw him around Hogsmeade.” Neville pointed out.

Draco humphed. “He's become their little pet. Pathetic. Well, we knew he was a lost cause. And to think, I once considered him a friend.”

“Still, if he's their pet, or under their thrall, then it means they won't tear him to ribbons, will they? A bit disappointing.”

Hermione's eyes went the size of dinner plates as she heard the older boy speak of such horrible things.

Draco noticed her hovering near them, and he raised an eyebrow. “Granger. Did you sleep well?”

He sent Marcus and Neville a look, and both boys had already moved away to allow Draco to deal with his ward.

“You can call me Hermione, Draco.” The bushy haired girl stepped up. “You guys… you really don't like the um… the Slytherins.”

“The monsters, you mean.” Draco said bluntly.

Hermione gulped. She'd read extensively about the creatures. Her history book spoke of how wizards and creatures used to coexist. Centuries ago, wizards cordoned off the great forest for the creatures. When the creatures would war amongst themselves, the wizards would intervene and establish order. All the wizards asked for in return was labor.

Then, there had been a war. It was all quite muddled. Hermione actually wanted to ask the history professor once she got the chance, because there were a lot of details in the books that were vague, confusing or seemed contradictory.

Still, the book had ended by saying that wizards and creatures had reconciled, and they were all building up to a bright, happy future. But Hermione had not gotten that impression at all so far.

Hermione jumped as Draco placed a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Gr-Hermione. You're new to our world, so you don't really understand. Those things aren't like us. They're vicious demons that only play nice because we've forced them to.”

“But they haven't hurt Harry Potter.”

“Potter is their toy, I'm sure of it. Besides, he's always been an embarrassment. Those same creatures murdered his parents right in front of him, and he spits on their memories by consorting with them!”

Draco realized that he'd raised his voice a pitch too high. He took a deep breath, giving Hermione a paternalistic smile. “Believe me, Hermione, it's best you stay away from them. Drawing near Potter and his creatures will only lead to danger.”

Hermione gulped. She wasn't a fan of danger. She liked to study, to expand her knowledge. She wasn't even sure why the hat had placed her in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.

Mr. Malfoy was her sponsor, and Draco was protecting her. She decided it would be best to just listen to him. Maybe later on, she could try to find out more about the creatures, but for now, she just wanted to learn.

…

In the Ravenclaw common room, similar murmurs abounded.

“You saw how comfortable he was among them? Potter knows them. Hell, he might actually be friends with them.” An older boy said.

Blaise kept quiet, deciding not to mention the incident with the fox girl all those years ago. Not for any sympathy for Harry, Blaise had long since washed his hands clean of the other boy. No, it was more out of his natural inclination to not want to draw attention to himself.

“I for one, commend Potter.”

There was a hush as they all stared at Vincent Crabbe Jr. He was a tall, stocky boy with a blocky head and prominent forehead. Vincent's father was well known for being a brilliant orator, despite his brutish looks. It seemed that Vincent was trying to follow in his father's footsteps.

“You commend him?”

“Of course. What do you think is the purpose of those creatures being here, at Hogwarts? The Ministry wants to integrate them. Potter is doing us a great service.”

Someone snorted. “Yeah, he'll be doing a great service when they find his half-eaten corpse.”

Vincent's expression didn't waver. “I guess you didn't hear the Headmaster's speech when the wards fell. You must overcome your childish fears, and see where the wind is blowing.”

No one responded, but it was clear that most of them weren't really convinced by Crabbe's words.

“Whatever, Crabbe.”

The students dispersed as they began to head out of the common room. Blaise observed Crabbe intently from his perch near the fireplace. The boy clenched and unclenched his fists a few times before adjusting his satchel over his shoulder and heading for the door.

Blaise rose from his own seat, curious about what Crabbe was playing at, though not curious enough to actually approach the boy and ask him about it.

No matter what, his first year at Hogwarts looked like it was going to be very interesting.

…

Harry stretched his arms wide as he quietly closed the door to his room.

He heard no noise, and it was completely dark out, with only the dimmest of green tinted light allowing him to pad his way over to the common room.

He wasn't surprised that none of the girls had woken up yet. He was used to getting up before sunrise to help Rosie around the bar, especially once he stopped helping her as much after school. The guilt had made him wake up extra early each morning to help her prep for the day. One might think that rising so early would have left him feeling exhausted by the afternoon, but for some reason, Harry never really ran out of energy unless he really overdid it.

He just chalked it up to magic.

As he passed by the armchairs and couches, his heart almost leapt out of his chest as he thought he saw a phantom sitting in front of the fireplace.

Harry blinked once, twice, three times, before his breathing finally settled down.

It was just Daphne, sitting cross legged on the long couch that faced the unlit fireplace.

“I startled you.” Daphne stated.

“Can you blame me?” Harry asked as he made his way over to her.

“Not at all.”

As he drew closer, Harry realized that he'd never once seen Daphne without her midnight black robe, and he cursed mother magic herself for that.

Daphne was wearing a skintight black leotard. Her long sleeves covered all the way down to her wrists, but the pale blue skin of her thighs was on full display as the black material hugged tightly to her crotch.

Harry couldn't help it, his mouth watered as his eyes trailed up what felt like miles of creamy greyish-blue flesh. He tried not to linger on her crotch, despite being pretty sure he saw a cameltoe. He was doubly surprised as he reached her chest.

Where the hell had Daphne been hiding those things?

They weren't as massive as Susan's, but they gave Lavender's a run for their money, and they were jutting out against the highly elastic material.

When he finally made it to Daphne's face was when he realized that he'd been blatantly ogling at his friend. There was no possible way Daphne hadn't noticed.

But Daphne's face remained as it always did, an impassive, neutral mask.

Harry plopped down next to her, deciding that he wasn't going to bring it up if she didn't.

“How long have you been here?”

“Around an hour or so. I don't require much sleep, and this environment helps to soothe me.”

“Been feeling nervous?” Harry asked with a grin.

Daphne shook her head. “Not at all, but I am similar to Fleur, in a way. I feed off of fear and despair, but I also siphon joy away from others. All of that concentrated happiness can mess with my head at times, so I try to spend at least an hour staring into the void to clear my mind.”

Harry was fascinated. Daphne had never been very forthcoming about her abilities. It did bring up a concern, though.

“What about all the time we've spent together? Is… is it hard to be around us, when we're all so happy?”

Daphne looked taken aback, her grey eyes widening slightly as she stared at Harry. “Of course not. Your joy is different. It… it does not bother me, not at all.”

“How?”

For the first time since he'd known her, he saw a hint of color enter Daphne's complexion. Just a hint.

“It just does, Harry.”

Harry decided not to pry any further. He looked down and found that his leg was pushing up against Daphne's, and once more he couldn't help but marvel at just how warm she felt.

“Maybe I could join you, every once in a while, we could stare into the void together.” Harry offered suddenly.

Daphne looked at him once more. Her silky black hair was cut short, reaching just below her ears, and it almost felt like if Harry went to touch it, his hand would phase right into its dark depths.

Before he could stop himself, he was doing just that. And his hand didn't disappear into Daphne's midnight black hair, instead, he felt its softness for himself.

Daphne's eyes widened once more, but she didn't stop him. She put her hand up and placed it over his own.

Time froze as the two stared at each other, the darkness both fading away and enveloping them.

A door slammed open and they jumped.

“Time to get up, bitches!” Susan yelled as she stomped into the common room. “Why is it so dark?”

Susan took a deep breath, collecting it deep in her lungs until she started to feel a burn. Her auntie had been coaching her on this all summer.

She pursed her lips and aimed at a torch as she let out a mighty blow from her mouth, concentrating her magic.

A few orange sparks sprang from her mouth, flickering in the air before quickly fading into nothing.

“Oh poo.” Susan pouted. “Still don't have the hang of it.”

“I hope that's not going to be our daily alarm.” Harry said as he and Daphne stepped over towards her.

“It better not be.” Vulpie growled from her door, her fur on end as she'd clearly been startled awake. “Some of us have sensitive hearing, you overgrown gecko.” She slammed her door shut once more.

Soon, Lavender, Delphi and Fleur joined them in the common room.

“Why is it still so dark in here?” Lavender asked.

Everyone else was wondering the same thing. The Slytherin common room had no place for natural light to filter in. They weren't sure if they had to do something to light the torches.

Fleur sighed. “I guess we'll have to make do with this.”

The blonde concentrated and her halo began to brighten up, intensifying gradually until the entire room was bathed in bright golden light.

Susan harrumphed, “Show off.”

Delphi, for her part, was inspecting the torches, which all sported carved snakes somewhere in their design.

She hissed something in parseltongue, and all the torches and the fireplace instantly lit up.

“I guess that makes sense,” Fleur commented as she dimmed her halo.

Lavender looked at Delphi a bit wearily. “We're not trapped in your own personal playpen, are we?”

Delphi shrugged, though a slight smile was curling on her face. “I guess we'll just have to find out, Lavlav.”

Harry grinned at Delphi, happy that she was loosening up a little.

The children settled into the couches. They'd all woken up relatively early, so they had plenty of time before they needed to head up to the great hall.

Even then, when thirty minutes passed and Vulpie had yet to leave her room, the girls shared looks.

“I want to eat already.” Susan complained.

“We can't leave Vulpie behind.” Delphi told her softly.

“I'll go check up on her,” Harry offered, jumping off the couch as he headed over to the room next to his own.

He knocked on the door. “Vulpie?”

“Yes?” Came her annoyed voice from the other side.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Harry cracked the door open and slipped into the room.

Vulpie was sitting on her bed, running a brush down her snow-white hair while she looked at the mirror.

Harry closed the door behind him as he tried not to get too many indecent thoughts. His best friend had a towel wrapped tightly around her torso while her tail, still frazzled, swished behind her.

“The others were wondering when you'd be ready.”

Vulpie glared into the mirror. “I'll be ready when I'm ready! I'm a Black, I have standards to uphold! I can't just get out of bed looking like I was swept up in a cyclone.”

Harry absently ran a hand through his windswept hair. “I thought you liked my hair.”

She turned away from the mirror to stare at him. “It suits a barbarian such as yourself.”

Harry chortled as he plopped down on the bed next to her. He saw another brush laying a few feet away, and he reached out and grabbed it.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping out.” Harry said. “Otherwise, I think the girls are going to just drag you out of here in a few minutes.”

Before she could protest, Harry grabbed her tail by the base. Vulpie let out a little yelp. “You… you cad!” She flushed completely red. Harry rolled his eyes as he began to brush her fluffy tail. Vulpie grumbled a little bit before she resumed brushing her hair.

Harry felt he'd done a good job of brushing her tail, but once she was done with her hair, Vulpie insisted he was an idiot who was doing it all wrong. She snatched the brush away from his hand, but didn't say anything as Harry's other hand kept a firm grip on her tail.

Harry found himself mesmerized as he watched her brush. A sweet scent kept wafting up his nose with every minute twitch, and he wondered if she'd sprayed her tail with perfume.

“There, now I am presentable for a lady of my station.”

They finally left her room. The other girls had been lounging around, and Harry wondered why none of them had checked up on them after Harry hadn't immediately returned.

“Anyone remember the way?” Delphi suddenly asked with a bit of worry.

“I've got it.” Harry assured her. He took the lead, and the seven of them made their way out of the common room.

Breakfast was a quick affair. Fleur and Delphi glared at Vulpie, as she'd delayed them to the point where they barely had any time to eat. Susan and Lavender ate so quickly it didn't matter to them, and once again, Daphne didn't feel the need to eat.

There was a lot of anxiety flying around, and not just aimed at the Slytherins. It was the first day of classes, and many people were nervous.

Fawkes handed them their time tables, as well as a helpful map of the castle with colored lines marking out the paths towards their classes. On their first day, they had Transfiguration and a double period of  Jinxes and Curses before lunch. After lunch they had Charms, and then they ended the day with Creature History.

The trip up to transfiguration was their first time fully out in the open, amongst the rest of the student body. Everyone was giving them a wide berth, but since many of them were headed the same way, there was really only so much distance that could be kept.

There was fear in some of the eyes of their fellow students, but there was also a lot of hatred, and once again, Delphi seemed to be the focus of it.

Harry grew angrier at whispered insults that were hurled by every group they passed, but Delphi was keeping her head up, not letting any emotion show as she slithered along.

“I took what you guys said to heart.” Delphi whispered at his glance, adjusting her glasses as her yellow eyes looked as determined as he'd ever seen them.

It was them against the world, and there was something liberating about that sentiment. If everyone else hated you, then what did they matter? What did their words matter? All that mattered were the people that cared for you.

They entered the classroom, where the stern figure of Professor McGonagall was standing behind her desk. The professor gave them a nod in acknowledgement.

The room was composed of four rows of continuous, long tables. Being the first to arrive, the Slytherins made their way to the back of the class, settling in with Susan on one end and Daphne on the other.

They shared this class with the Gryffindors, who began to filter in and immediately gravitate towards the front row, wanting to keep as much distance between themselves and the Slytherins. The small class sizes helped them along, as by the time everyone had sat down, the second row was only half full, providing a one row buffer between the wizards and the creatures.

McGonagall frowned slightly at the way the seating arrangements had worked out. It was disappointing, but not at all surprising.

Class began, and they were all soon staring down at matchsticks, which they were supposed to turn into needles.

It seemed straightforward enough, and Harry had been decently practiced with his wandless magic over the years. And so, he waved his wand over the matchstick, muttered the incantation, and waited for the results.

Nothing happened.

He glanced to his left, seeing that Vulpie was in the same boat.

He cracked his neck, stared back down at his matchstick, focused a bit harder, made sure to clearly enunciate his incantation, and tried again.

The wood turned a paler colour.

This was very frustrating, though as Harry glanced around, he saw that everyone in the classroom was in the same boat.

Hermione had managed to make her matchstick pointier, but besides her, no one had made much progress.

The class progressed like that, with everyone growing increasingly frustrated, though none as much as Susan.

“This is stupid.” The redhead dragon huffed. Since she used her horn to channel magic, it meant that to follow the instructions, she needed to move her head around in an imitation of the wand movement, it left her with a very sore neck.

“Dragons have never been good at transfiguration anyways. Our magic is all about destruction! Fire and brimstone!”

“There's gotta be more to this.” Harry said under his breath. “I'm following the stupid instructions from the book, why isn't it working?”

“I-I think I got it.” Delphi said in a low voice.

The group glanced over at her desk, where in place of a matchstick there now sat a perfect needle.

“Delph! How'd you do it?” Lavender asked in an awed voice.

She'd said it loud enough for McGonagall to hear, and the professor walked over to them, picking up Delphi's needle.

“Excellent work, Ms. Gaunt, ten points to Slytherin.” The Deputy Headmistress said before placing the needle back on the desk.

Draco and Neville glared at their Head of House as if she'd betrayed them simply for awarding the Slytherins points.

From the second row, Hermione was looking back with curiosity. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut almost immediately, remembering Draco's words from earlier.

“How did you do it, Delphi?” Daphne inquired from her other side.

“It's kind of hard to explain.” The lamia said, wringing her hands. “At first, I tried just picturing the matchstick turning into a needle, but well, that wasn't working, and having to focus on the wand movement and the incantation kind of threw off the image in my head.”

“Same issue we've all been having, I'm sure.” Fleur commented.

“Well, I started to think that maybe appearance wasn't enough. I thought about the texture-” Texture and feel were always more at the forefront of Delphi's mind than for the others, a result of her exposed underbelly constantly slithering across rough stone floors and up wooden stairs.

Daphne nodded in understanding. “So you must consider the feel as well.”

Delphi nodded back. “Well, it's more than that. I know needles don't exactly have a smell, but you have to taste the iron in your tongue, you have to hear the ping it would make if you tapped it against the table, think of how it would feel if it prickled your finger… at least, that's how I figured it out.”

The others understood Delphi completely, and they all went back to their matchsticks, now more determined than ever to get it right.

It was a lot harder than it seemed, since they needed to keep all of those disparate sensory inputs in their heads while performing the spell.

In short order, though, they all managed to successfully perform the spell. Even Susan, who had been adamant that dragon magic and transfiguration did not mix, managed to almost complete the change.

Two rows ahead, Hermione Granger managed it too, exclaiming with glee as she held her needle up.

“Well done, Ms. Granger, ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Transfiguration is going to be an absolute pain if it's always gotta be like that.” Lavender groaned.

“I don't know, with the Delphi method, we didn't even have to use a wand movement. I think, if we keep at it, we'll continue to improve till it's no longer as difficult.” Harry said.

“I-I wouldn't call it the Delphi method.” The lamia blushed as she stared down at the table.

“Nonsense, you taught us a way better method than the book, you deserve the credit.” Fleur told her friend.

As the group talked, they didn't notice the bushy haired girl who would periodically glance back at them, biting her lip nervously.

They made it over to their next class, Jinxes and Curses with the Hufflepuffs. The classroom had auditorium style seating with a big stage in the middle where the professor stood. The seven of them found a nice little corner for themselves away from the other students, with Delphi stretching her lower half out over several empty spaces.

Their professor was a tall, gruff looking man with dark hair and a shabby beard. He was also blind in his left eye. The large scar that ran across his face and right over his eye hinted at how he'd been blinded.

“My name is Rodolphus LeStrange. You know the name of the course, its aim is to teach you spells which are mainly meant to impede or cause harm to others. This is my first time teaching, and the curriculum has been changed, along with the name of the course-” His good eye swept over their little corner at that statement, “Which is good news, because it is my opinion that my predecessors weren't teaching you anything worth crap.”

“Finally, someone who speaks my language.” Susan said with a grin.

“I know who that is.” Harry said. “All the old timers at the pub would talk about him, he was one of the more dangerous wizards during the war.”

Professor LeStrange continued on with his speech, always keeping a rough, no-nonsense tone. He went over many of the spells they would be learning, with the stupefying charm being the highlight of the curriculum that mostly contained harmless prank jinxes.

“From your second class on, we will be alternating. You will have one class to learn a new spell, and then the next class I will be calling you up here for duels, where you may only use the spells you've learned so far. My hope is that you will learn practical applications for even the most seemingly harmless of spells, as well as how to chain spells together.”

That piqued Harry's interest. The group left the class with a grudging respect for the professor, who had not seemed to harbor any obvious hostility towards the girls.

The same could not be said about their Charms professor. Professor Prewett gazed upon them with contempt from the moment he saw them. The middle-aged ginger did not hide his disdain for them as he read their names off the roll. He chose to just pretend they weren't even in the room as he directed his entire lecture towards the right side of the room, where the Ravenclaws were sitting.

Harry and the girls just sat there, taking notes here and there but not daring to talk. Every once in a while, the man's eyes would drift towards them, and his eyes would light up with pure hatred.

“So, how was that first day of classes?” Fawkes asked them as they arrived for their final class of the day.

They all shared a look. Classes had honestly been fine, up until Professor Prewett had left them feeling disturbed.

Fawkes’ smile fell. “That bad?”

“It wasn't awful. It's just, I think we're worried Professor Prewett's going to send a killing curse our way.” Lavender said.

“I could sense nothing but pure hatred from that man.” Fleur said, arms wrapped around her shoulders.

Fawkes sighed. “Yes, Professor Prewett, he's, well, more than a bit hostile. But, you can all rest assured, he won't do a thing to harm you.”

“How can you be so sure, Fawkes?” Harry asked.

“That's Professor Fawkes, Harry.” The phoenix said with a cheeky grin, “Anyways, the staff all swore an unbreakable vow, they cannot harm you in any way. It was one of the conditions for putting this whole thing together.”

That set them at ease, but only slightly.

“Now, let's get started with the class!”

“Wait, this is an actual class?” Vulpie asked. “I thought this was just a space for us to unwind, or talk to you about how we're doing.”

“Of course it's an actual class!”

“You didn't even assign a book.” Fleur pointed out.

“There are no history books where we're concerned. Thankfully for you, it's all up here.” she pointed at her temple. “Now, it all started about five hundred years ago-”

“Why five hundred?” Harry asked.

“Huh? What do you mean, Harry?”

“It's just, my history class back in grade school was the same, it covered stuff from five hundred years ago to now.”

“What, you want more, Harry? I think five hundred is more than enough already.” Lavender said.

“It's not that, it's just, beyond those five hundred years, all we get are names. They'd always say Merlin and the founders were great wizards and witches who achieved incredible things, but we don't know any details at all.”

Fawkes looked impressed by his line of questioning. “Well, I wasn't expecting that, Harry. The truth is, we just don't know anything beyond that. There are no sources. Either people weren't recording history up until that point, or it has all been lost.”

That didn't make sense to Harry. It left him with more questions, but he knew he wouldn't get the answer any time soon, so he dropped the matter completely.

“Now, as I was saying, this all started around five hundred years ago. I was just a hatchling then, on my first cycle, so I don't remember much from those early years, but the elders would tell me stories. Back then, the wizards were warring with the Goblins, and we were being drafted by both sides to take up arms for them. Of course, we weren't exactly a unified group in those days, far from it…”

As Fawkes launched into her tale about the murky days of the past, days that she remembered more as a haze of images than a solid timeline, part of her mind couldn't help but drift off into more recent memories. Memories that were much more vivid in her mind.

She could still smell the burning bodies.

…

Fawkes soared through the air, watching in horror as she saw more and more plumes of smoke rise up from the village.

This quiet little wizarding town had been set ablaze, and it had been burnt down by dragon fire.

In a burst of her own flame, she was suddenly on the ground, in the town square, the only part that had been spared the fire.

She quickly saw that it was by design. There were bodies piled up on the square. Wizards and witches, young and old.

She even saw a baby, unmoving, placed atop its dead mother.

She felt bile rise up from her stomach, but she fought down the urge to vomit. Just a few meters to her left, the culprits were gathered around their final victim.

They were a mixed bunch. Dementors, felids, canids and dragons, and at the center of it all was a large lamia, her green and black scales glistening in the bright orange light of the fire.

Tamara Gaunt.

Her black hair was long and wild, her yellow eyes full of hatred as she stared down at the male dragon.

The male dragon was on his knees, forced down by chains that were being held by a dark skinned dragoness.

“I am granting you release. You may thank me when you reach the other side.” She said in a high, cold voice.

The male dragon roared. He did not understand. Wasn't capable of it.

Tamara nodded towards a canine female with raven hair just as wild as her own. One of the Blacks.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The killing curse struck the male, and in a flash, his life was torn away from him, his body crumpling to the ground.

The female dragon, her white, half-moon wings spread wide behind her, bowed her head to the lamia. “Thank you, mistress.”

“Tamara!”

The group turned, and Tamara's lips curled into a sneer as she saw the auburn haired phoenix approaching.

“Fawkes!” She snarled. “Of course you would try to interfere.”

“Do you realize what you've done? What all of you have done here tonight?” Fawkes asked them frantically.

“We have gained our freedom!” Bellatrix spat back.

“You've started a war! What do you hope to gain, by massacring these innocents?”

“Innocents?!” Tamara's yellow eyes, with those gold, concentric rings around her sclera, glowed malevolently. Fawkes did not falter, her eyes did not work on her.

“There is not a single wizard that is innocent. To the man, they are implicit in our slavery. Your way has not worked, Fawkes. You've been a passive failure for centuries now.” Tamara looked around at her followers, who were getting riled up by her speech.

“We will not gain our freedom through words, we will only do so at the end of a wand.”

Fawkes shook her head. “Tamara, don't you realize what you've done? Think about Delphi-”

“Delphi will grow free! Or she will proudly perish along with her mother!” The lamia's eyes narrowed, “I will gladly choose death over bondage, Fawkes. And you will find that many of our people are willing to make that choice.”

The village burned, and Fawkes could do nothing but turn in place and disappear. The fierce young woman she'd once thought of as a daughter had changed, and she'd just sparked a war that would destroy them all.

…

Tamara awoke.

She dreamt about that day again. The day where she announced herself to the world.

Only a few days later, the Wizards would begin calling her Voldemort. She encouraged it, let them fear her.

But she never lost grip of who she was.

She was Tamara Gaunt, the Queen of the Lamia, and she was going to bring an end to Wizardkind.

It didn't quite appear so now. She was trapped in her prison, a glass tube, barely wider than she was. She was floating in a strange liquid that both allowed her to breathe through her skin and fed her nutrients.

She had not left this prison since she'd been placed here, three thousand five hundred and eighty-nine days ago.

There was a silver band over her eyes. She had not been able to see anything in a decade. The wizards were confident that their prison would negate any magic from being used, but they were not willing to take any chances. They had her trapped, with no means of escape.

Or so they thought.

In a year, Tamara would be free, and she would be able to resume her efforts. This time, she would not fail.

She thought of her daughter. Delphi. She was sure that Amelia would have raised her, she was far too honorable to not have. And Fawkes, that traitorous bitch, would feel herself magnanimous in allowing her daughter to live.

She would reunite with her daughter, once she escaped, she would make up for lost time.

But first, she would need to go to Hogwarts.

The boy was the same age as her daughter. He would be in his second year by the time Tamara escaped. She would find him.

Harry Potter.

He was the key to her victory.

Just one more year. She could endure another year of solitude, another year without speaking a word. Another year with nothing to accompany her but memories of the past, some joyful, most bitter.

Bellatrix. Andromeda. Bethany. Marie and all the others. The countless males they'd had to put down. None of their deaths would be in vain.

Tamara's thoughts were filled with emerald green eyes as she waited patiently in her prison.

…

The Forbidden Forest was vast. Much bigger than even its inhabitants considered.

Its massive stores of natural magic made it so that, just like a magically expanded trunk or tent, the forest contained much, much more than even its borders would imply.

And not all of it had been explored. Or at least, not for centuries.

It was a narrow cave, covered in thick, hanging moss that obscured the dark maw of its entrance. It had remained undisturbed for a millennia, unchanging with the passage of time.

When the wards had fallen and the earth had shaken, a large tree had fallen over, crashing onto the ground with a massive thud, covering up the entrance to the cave.

That had been several days ago.

There were no signs of sentient life for miles on end. No one had been around to hear the tree fall, and no one had been around to hear the low rumblings that would periodically ring out from inside of the cave.

No one was around now, as a massive, furred paw punched through the trunk of the tree, splintering the thick trunk into clouds of dust as thick, razor-sharp claws dug into the ground, finding easy purchase in the soft soil.

The claws dragged backward, leaving deep marks on the ground as they slowly disappeared back into the darkness of the cave.

Next chap will have lemons, maaaybe smut, as it'll have the first full moon.