BLOODlight (1/?) - Harry Potter/Twilight
Story Title: BLOODlight
Chapter Title: Arrival
Fandoms: Twilight/Harry Potter
Characters/pairings: Bellatrix Black will be the main player, along with Edward, of course, Charlie, and all those other sparkly bastards and irritating tropes from Twilight WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BIASED? Oh, and Isabella Swan later on. May have some Bellatrix/Edward, but only in a manipulative-bitch sort of way.
Warnings: Violence, violence, VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE YAY! BLOOD! DEATH! MURDER! SWEARING! FUN THINGS LIKE THAT!
Disclaimers: Twilight is the property of SMeyer, who's quite welcome to it. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, who deserves it. So neither of them are mine. I'm only responsible for mashing them together in a bloody, unprofitable, and above all lolsome way.
Summary: LOLOL IZ A BELLA AND A BELLA DO U SEE WHUT I DID THAR?
...ahem...
Bella Black and Bella Swan - one's a sadistic seventh-year Slytherin, the other's a 'normal' and adorably clumsy teenage hormone-heap. What happens when they suddenly swap lives? Well, a bloodbath in Forks, to start with... Violent, bloody fun, which is TOTALLY SERIOUS in its respect for both canons!
Arrival
Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser. This would have been far more explicable if I knew why Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser, or, indeed, who Charlie was. I just knew - for whatever reason - that Charlie would be waiting for me by the cruiser.
The ‘cruiser’ turned out to be one of those vile Muggle vehicles, this one admittedly rather sleeker-looking than most of those I’d seen, and painted white, with a coat of arms on the side and red and blue lights on the top - rather negating its smoothness and any tiny redeeming factor that might have brought it. It was hideous. Hideously American, hideously poor in appearance, and most of all, hideously Muggle. Just like the man standing in front of it. Despicable. I would have destroyed them both and Apparated back to Hogwarts, were it not for the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, my wand was missing - and my comfortable, modish fitted robes had been replaced by some hideous lace shirt, sleeveless and far too loose to be flattering, and ‘jeans’. Jeans. I only knew what jeans were from a few Mudbloods in my year who I had seen wearing them, and they were no more comfortable nor flattering than they appeared. And as for the coat I was wearing - short and padded and made from something slippery and clearly artificial - well, it couldn’t have been less than fifty degrees, and I had been down to Hogsmeade and back in weather twice as cold and clothing twice as light. On the aeroplane - if that was what they were called - it had been stiflingly hot in the coat, but I hadn’t seen the use in removing it.
At least I was still myself. That was certain, anyway. This was most likely a dream of some sort - or, at worst, those blood-traitor Prewett brats had finally managed to play a sucessful prank on me. Well, if that was the case, they would quickly find out what it meant to cross me, and I would guarantee, in due time, they would come to regret it with every inch of what would be left of them.
In the meantime, though, there were more pressing concerns. I knew, for example, that I was in some godforsaken corner of America - the accents I had heard had confirmed that much - and that the place was crawling with Muggles. I knew that I had lost my wand, and that Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser. Besides that - nothing.
Gliding down the steps off the plane - which was rather more difficult in trousers than in robes - I was shocked beyond belief when this ‘Charlie’ straightened up from leaning against his vehicle, came over meet me, and wrapped one arm around me in what was most definitely a hug.
Believe me when I say that I do not experience many hugs. Oh, Cissa and Andi hug me when they are excited, of course, and Mother too. Occasionally, Father even ventures far enough from his study to spend some time with his eldest daughter, although hugs are a rare commodity from him. This, however, was the first time anybody outside my own family had hugged me, and certainly the first time a complete stranger - a complete Muggle stranger, no less - had taken it upon himself to greet me in such an uncouth way.
“It’s good to see you, Bells,” he said, a smile creeping over his idiotic face. “You…”
“Bells?” I repeated, with some incredulity, and arched one elegantly-shaped eyebrow. Bella, I could stand, although even that would be frankly impertinent from somebody I’d never met before. Even Cissa, though, had never called me anything so undeniably stupid as ‘Bells’. Lifting my chin, I looked down at him with all the disdain I could muster; despite himself, he shrank back slightly. “Who do you think I am?”
“My… daughter,” he said hesitantly. “But now I’m not so sure. You’ve got a British accent…”
I hesitated. On the one hand, this man was becoming a major irritation. On the other, I was lost, wandless, and with no means of contacting anyone I knew; this seemed to be a Muggle district, and I certainly doubted that Floo powder would be an easy commodity to come by. Much as I hated to admit it, I needed somebody on my side, at least until I could find out where I was, why I was there, and, most importantly, how I could get back.
The smile, insincere as it was, came easily to my face; that winning smile which could always sway my father and which had brought more boys than I could count clamouring around my feet. I’d never had trouble summoning up the appearance of charm.
“I’m sorry… Dad.” I’d never called my own father Dad, of course, but this man seemed the sort whose daughters might. “I guess I just grew up a little.” I guess - that was an Americanism, wasn’t it? And I could only hope that the girl he thought I was had been away long enough to make that feasible.
It seemed to be enough for the moment. “Okay, Bella - Bella’s okay, right? I guess I just thought you’d be like you were last time I saw you. Stupid, really. All change in the big, bad city, right?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, trying to summon up what I knew of American culture, which wasn’t much. There’d been a half-American Mudblood at Hogwarts in my first year - I supposed she would have to do as a model. “And Bella’s fine, I guess.”
“Still, that accent’s downright weird. Renée take you over to Europe or something?”
“I guess I’ve just watched a little too much television,” I hazarded. Television wasn’t a word I’d heard much, but it popped to mind, and the words - tele-vision, ‘far-sight’, if I remembered what Father had taught us of Greek and Latin - seemed to fit something you’d watch, something that might show you England.
Again, it seemed to be enough for Charlie. He nodded, his smile returning. “Well, Bella, it’s good to see you, like I said. How’s Renée?”
“Fine.” It was a nice, multipurpose word. Fine could mean Renée - whoever that was - was in prime condition, or it could mean she was dying, but gracefully, like Uncle Alphard (not that one could call Uncle Alphard graceful, given his history with the family).
“Oh, okay.” He seemed nonplussed. “Glad to hear it. Shall we… shall we go and get your luggage?”
When that obstacle was sucessfully negotiated - I was very grateful to find that Charlie apparently knew some of which bags were mine; less grateful to find that this Bells character I was impersonating had brought less than three bags, none of which were very big - we fitted them into the space in the back of the cruiser, then climbed into the front.
“Seatbelt,” he reminded me after a moment, when I didn’t move. I blinked, not understanding, then saw the belt strapped over his chest and across his waist. Finding one on my own side, I strapped myself in and gave him another dazzling smile.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Just like always, huh, Bella?” He pushed down his foot on a pedal, making the cruiser thrum, and eased it out into a road. I’d never ridden in a Muggle car before, and I didn’t much care for the vehicle. “Wouldn’t look too good for Police Chief Swan to be driving his daughter around without a seatbelt on, huh? Which reminds me - I found a good car for you, so I won’t have to keep on driving you around. Just like you asked. Better remember to put your seatbelt on when I’m not there to remind you, okay, Bells… I mean Bella?”
I hadn’t really been listening - although I had stored that name mentally; ‘Police Chief Swan’, which I guessed would make ‘my’ name Bella Swan - but that brought me up sharply. I found a good car for you. “What sort of car?” I asked warily.
“Well, a truck, actually - a Chevy.” He turned his head to give me a bright smile, obviously expecting me to know what that meant. I didn’t. “Not a bad one, either, for the price.”
“How much was it?”
He flapped a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I already bought it for you. A homecoming gift. Billy sold me it cheap, since he can’t drive any more.”
“Billy?” I needed to keep him talking. It would give him less chance to think - if a lump like this ever did any thinking - and work out that he was taking a complete stranger home with him.
“Don’t you remember Billy Black, down at La Push?” Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer before going on. “Used to go fishing with us in your summer vacations? Nice guy. Sold me the truck for next to nothing - it’s not new, but he did some work on the engine, should run fine.”
“Great.” I gave him another of those insincere smiles. “Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. I want you to be happy here.” He was looking straight ahead again, not meeting my eyes, the expression on his face very similar to the one Father or Regulus wore when they were embarassed by having to show their emotions. Good. I didn’t want to have to deal with an overly clingy, emotional ‘dad’ while I was stuck here.
There was next to no chance of my being happy here, anyway, I thought irritably, glaring out of the window at the astonishing greenness flitting past. It looked like a miserable place to be - like the back end of England, but with more dangerous animals (if I remembered rightly), more problems with gaining the respect I was used to, and no wand. True, I could use wandless magic, but nothing powerful enough to get me home. Cissa and Andi would be missing me, for one thing - so would most of Slytherin House, but they were, for the most part, unimportant - and for another, I had yet to take my NEWTs. I wasn’t about to let some stupid prank by a couple of first-year Ravenclaws get in my way, not when I knew I could make Mother and Father happy by getting good results - and if Father was happy, he was much easier to get things out of. No, I had to get home.
Besides, I’d end up missing them. Cissa and Andi, at least.
As for this Muggle, as soon as I could work out a plan of action, he could be taken out of the picture. All I needed was a little information and a knife or two, and, with or without a wand, he wouldn’t be hugging or babbling or calling me Bells much longer.
I wanted that drive to be over as soon as possible - and, as soon as I reached the house, I wished it wasn’t. This couldn’t be my base of operations! It just couldn’t! It was small - tiny compared to our estate outside Bristol - and poky, with an aggressively cheerful feel to it. I hated it on sight - almost as much as I hated the bulky red car parked on the road outside it.
“Ain’t she a beauty?” Charlie asked cheerfully, nodding to the red car.
“That’s not what I’d call it,” I muttered darkly, and was gratified to see his face fall. Now that I looked closer, I could see that it had a few good things about it - it was sturdy, for a start, and looked as if it could hold a fair bit - but on the whole, it was still a hideous object, blocky and ugly and the epitome of everything I disliked about Muggles. Being seen near it would be a humiliation - but on the other hand, so would being forced to sleep outside in the rain if I blew my chances of this place to stay. It would be temporary, at least, I thought. It would be temporary.
We made our way inside and up the stairs. Everything inside the house extruded that same air of rather desperate cheerfulness, and when I finally got to ‘my’ room, I almost vomited. It was disgusting - pastel colours, lace, a rocking chair in the corner, everything more saccharine than I had thought imaginable. Nonetheless, I gave Charlie a smile as he helped me with my bags - he really was as servile and as easy to please as a house-elf, I thought dismissively - and made a show of appreciating the room. When he was gone, I heaved a massive sigh of relief and locked the door.
This was terrible.
This was worse than terrible. It would have been terrible to be stranded, to be in an unknown place in an unfamiliar country, to have to pretend to be somebody… well, that this was her room spoke volumes. What was worse than terrible was to be in such a position among Muggles!
But it couldn’t be helped. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, sooner or later, I would be well away from here - and Charlie and his entire town would pay the penalty for upsetting me.
For now, I had to turn my mind to the practicalities. As I unpacked the bags - ‘Bells’ had lamentably few clothes, and nothing remotely like what I was used to - I considered my situation. It was September, for a start. If school hadn’t started already, it would soon - I had to be prepared for the possibility that I would have to attend. And then there was the house - I got the impression that Bells was supposed to know her way around, so asking might put Charlie’s slow mind to work. I would have to investigate while he wasn’t there. And I had to be ready for the possibility that there might be somebody who would write to check that Bells had arrived safely.
Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair - and cursed. It was brown! My beautiful, sleek hair, the hair that was as perfectly black as it was perfectly Black, was gone, replaced by this hideous, boring, brown! And so short - it was lopped off just at my ribs, ugly and graceless and…
Hissing threats and curses down upon the head of whoever had done this to me, I leapt to my feet and rushed out of the room, thankfully meeting no resistance as I rushed up the stairs in search of a bathroom, hands tangled in my horribly brown hair. I finally found the tiny bathroom at the top of the house, kicked the door shut, and glared at my reflection in the mirror.
Hideous! Hideous! There was not a feature on my face that even suggested that I was a Black; not my lovely grey eyes, not my straight, slightly pointed nose, not my slim, graceful lips or my carefully-plucked eyebrows - the girl staring back at me was as Muggle, as ugly, and as ordinary as everything else here! Brown hair, brown eyes - only the skin was elegant at all, and even that was pallid and sallow, quite unlike my own smoothly ivory complexion. This face, like my own, was heart-shaped and passably handsome, but compared to the features of a pureblood Black, dull, uninteresting, plain. Horrified, I took an inadvertant step back from the mirror.
My eyes! My hair! What had happened to me? The figure in the mirror wasn’t quite as ugly as I had thought at first, but… no. No, I could not be stuck with looks like these! This was one more indignity on top of all the others, the straw to break my back, and I would not stand for it!
They would pay! Whoever had done this to me, for whatever motive and in whatever way, they would pay!
Strengthened somewhat by that thought, I tossed back ‘my’ hair - I could get rid of it easily, after all, once I had my wand again - and started a little more serenely back to my room. “They will pay,” I repeated under my breath, my lip curling, and smiled thinly. There would be a way out of this. And whoever had forced me into this mess would regret it until their dying breath - which I would ensure was much, much later than they would ask, pray, beg it to be.
There would be vengeance.
Chapter Title: Arrival
Fandoms: Twilight/Harry Potter
Characters/pairings: Bellatrix Black will be the main player, along with Edward, of course, Charlie, and all those other sparkly bastards and irritating tropes from Twilight WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BIASED? Oh, and Isabella Swan later on. May have some Bellatrix/Edward, but only in a manipulative-bitch sort of way.
Warnings: Violence, violence, VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE YAY! BLOOD! DEATH! MURDER! SWEARING! FUN THINGS LIKE THAT!
Disclaimers: Twilight is the property of SMeyer, who's quite welcome to it. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, who deserves it. So neither of them are mine. I'm only responsible for mashing them together in a bloody, unprofitable, and above all lolsome way.
Summary: LOLOL IZ A BELLA AND A BELLA DO U SEE WHUT I DID THAR?
...ahem...
Bella Black and Bella Swan - one's a sadistic seventh-year Slytherin, the other's a 'normal' and adorably clumsy teenage hormone-heap. What happens when they suddenly swap lives? Well, a bloodbath in Forks, to start with... Violent, bloody fun, which is TOTALLY SERIOUS in its respect for both canons!
Arrival
Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser. This would have been far more explicable if I knew why Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser, or, indeed, who Charlie was. I just knew - for whatever reason - that Charlie would be waiting for me by the cruiser.
The ‘cruiser’ turned out to be one of those vile Muggle vehicles, this one admittedly rather sleeker-looking than most of those I’d seen, and painted white, with a coat of arms on the side and red and blue lights on the top - rather negating its smoothness and any tiny redeeming factor that might have brought it. It was hideous. Hideously American, hideously poor in appearance, and most of all, hideously Muggle. Just like the man standing in front of it. Despicable. I would have destroyed them both and Apparated back to Hogwarts, were it not for the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, my wand was missing - and my comfortable, modish fitted robes had been replaced by some hideous lace shirt, sleeveless and far too loose to be flattering, and ‘jeans’. Jeans. I only knew what jeans were from a few Mudbloods in my year who I had seen wearing them, and they were no more comfortable nor flattering than they appeared. And as for the coat I was wearing - short and padded and made from something slippery and clearly artificial - well, it couldn’t have been less than fifty degrees, and I had been down to Hogsmeade and back in weather twice as cold and clothing twice as light. On the aeroplane - if that was what they were called - it had been stiflingly hot in the coat, but I hadn’t seen the use in removing it.
At least I was still myself. That was certain, anyway. This was most likely a dream of some sort - or, at worst, those blood-traitor Prewett brats had finally managed to play a sucessful prank on me. Well, if that was the case, they would quickly find out what it meant to cross me, and I would guarantee, in due time, they would come to regret it with every inch of what would be left of them.
In the meantime, though, there were more pressing concerns. I knew, for example, that I was in some godforsaken corner of America - the accents I had heard had confirmed that much - and that the place was crawling with Muggles. I knew that I had lost my wand, and that Charlie was waiting for me by the cruiser. Besides that - nothing.
Gliding down the steps off the plane - which was rather more difficult in trousers than in robes - I was shocked beyond belief when this ‘Charlie’ straightened up from leaning against his vehicle, came over meet me, and wrapped one arm around me in what was most definitely a hug.
Believe me when I say that I do not experience many hugs. Oh, Cissa and Andi hug me when they are excited, of course, and Mother too. Occasionally, Father even ventures far enough from his study to spend some time with his eldest daughter, although hugs are a rare commodity from him. This, however, was the first time anybody outside my own family had hugged me, and certainly the first time a complete stranger - a complete Muggle stranger, no less - had taken it upon himself to greet me in such an uncouth way.
“It’s good to see you, Bells,” he said, a smile creeping over his idiotic face. “You…”
“Bells?” I repeated, with some incredulity, and arched one elegantly-shaped eyebrow. Bella, I could stand, although even that would be frankly impertinent from somebody I’d never met before. Even Cissa, though, had never called me anything so undeniably stupid as ‘Bells’. Lifting my chin, I looked down at him with all the disdain I could muster; despite himself, he shrank back slightly. “Who do you think I am?”
“My… daughter,” he said hesitantly. “But now I’m not so sure. You’ve got a British accent…”
I hesitated. On the one hand, this man was becoming a major irritation. On the other, I was lost, wandless, and with no means of contacting anyone I knew; this seemed to be a Muggle district, and I certainly doubted that Floo powder would be an easy commodity to come by. Much as I hated to admit it, I needed somebody on my side, at least until I could find out where I was, why I was there, and, most importantly, how I could get back.
The smile, insincere as it was, came easily to my face; that winning smile which could always sway my father and which had brought more boys than I could count clamouring around my feet. I’d never had trouble summoning up the appearance of charm.
“I’m sorry… Dad.” I’d never called my own father Dad, of course, but this man seemed the sort whose daughters might. “I guess I just grew up a little.” I guess - that was an Americanism, wasn’t it? And I could only hope that the girl he thought I was had been away long enough to make that feasible.
It seemed to be enough for the moment. “Okay, Bella - Bella’s okay, right? I guess I just thought you’d be like you were last time I saw you. Stupid, really. All change in the big, bad city, right?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, trying to summon up what I knew of American culture, which wasn’t much. There’d been a half-American Mudblood at Hogwarts in my first year - I supposed she would have to do as a model. “And Bella’s fine, I guess.”
“Still, that accent’s downright weird. Renée take you over to Europe or something?”
“I guess I’ve just watched a little too much television,” I hazarded. Television wasn’t a word I’d heard much, but it popped to mind, and the words - tele-vision, ‘far-sight’, if I remembered what Father had taught us of Greek and Latin - seemed to fit something you’d watch, something that might show you England.
Again, it seemed to be enough for Charlie. He nodded, his smile returning. “Well, Bella, it’s good to see you, like I said. How’s Renée?”
“Fine.” It was a nice, multipurpose word. Fine could mean Renée - whoever that was - was in prime condition, or it could mean she was dying, but gracefully, like Uncle Alphard (not that one could call Uncle Alphard graceful, given his history with the family).
“Oh, okay.” He seemed nonplussed. “Glad to hear it. Shall we… shall we go and get your luggage?”
When that obstacle was sucessfully negotiated - I was very grateful to find that Charlie apparently knew some of which bags were mine; less grateful to find that this Bells character I was impersonating had brought less than three bags, none of which were very big - we fitted them into the space in the back of the cruiser, then climbed into the front.
“Seatbelt,” he reminded me after a moment, when I didn’t move. I blinked, not understanding, then saw the belt strapped over his chest and across his waist. Finding one on my own side, I strapped myself in and gave him another dazzling smile.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Just like always, huh, Bella?” He pushed down his foot on a pedal, making the cruiser thrum, and eased it out into a road. I’d never ridden in a Muggle car before, and I didn’t much care for the vehicle. “Wouldn’t look too good for Police Chief Swan to be driving his daughter around without a seatbelt on, huh? Which reminds me - I found a good car for you, so I won’t have to keep on driving you around. Just like you asked. Better remember to put your seatbelt on when I’m not there to remind you, okay, Bells… I mean Bella?”
I hadn’t really been listening - although I had stored that name mentally; ‘Police Chief Swan’, which I guessed would make ‘my’ name Bella Swan - but that brought me up sharply. I found a good car for you. “What sort of car?” I asked warily.
“Well, a truck, actually - a Chevy.” He turned his head to give me a bright smile, obviously expecting me to know what that meant. I didn’t. “Not a bad one, either, for the price.”
“How much was it?”
He flapped a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I already bought it for you. A homecoming gift. Billy sold me it cheap, since he can’t drive any more.”
“Billy?” I needed to keep him talking. It would give him less chance to think - if a lump like this ever did any thinking - and work out that he was taking a complete stranger home with him.
“Don’t you remember Billy Black, down at La Push?” Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer before going on. “Used to go fishing with us in your summer vacations? Nice guy. Sold me the truck for next to nothing - it’s not new, but he did some work on the engine, should run fine.”
“Great.” I gave him another of those insincere smiles. “Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. I want you to be happy here.” He was looking straight ahead again, not meeting my eyes, the expression on his face very similar to the one Father or Regulus wore when they were embarassed by having to show their emotions. Good. I didn’t want to have to deal with an overly clingy, emotional ‘dad’ while I was stuck here.
There was next to no chance of my being happy here, anyway, I thought irritably, glaring out of the window at the astonishing greenness flitting past. It looked like a miserable place to be - like the back end of England, but with more dangerous animals (if I remembered rightly), more problems with gaining the respect I was used to, and no wand. True, I could use wandless magic, but nothing powerful enough to get me home. Cissa and Andi would be missing me, for one thing - so would most of Slytherin House, but they were, for the most part, unimportant - and for another, I had yet to take my NEWTs. I wasn’t about to let some stupid prank by a couple of first-year Ravenclaws get in my way, not when I knew I could make Mother and Father happy by getting good results - and if Father was happy, he was much easier to get things out of. No, I had to get home.
Besides, I’d end up missing them. Cissa and Andi, at least.
As for this Muggle, as soon as I could work out a plan of action, he could be taken out of the picture. All I needed was a little information and a knife or two, and, with or without a wand, he wouldn’t be hugging or babbling or calling me Bells much longer.
I wanted that drive to be over as soon as possible - and, as soon as I reached the house, I wished it wasn’t. This couldn’t be my base of operations! It just couldn’t! It was small - tiny compared to our estate outside Bristol - and poky, with an aggressively cheerful feel to it. I hated it on sight - almost as much as I hated the bulky red car parked on the road outside it.
“Ain’t she a beauty?” Charlie asked cheerfully, nodding to the red car.
“That’s not what I’d call it,” I muttered darkly, and was gratified to see his face fall. Now that I looked closer, I could see that it had a few good things about it - it was sturdy, for a start, and looked as if it could hold a fair bit - but on the whole, it was still a hideous object, blocky and ugly and the epitome of everything I disliked about Muggles. Being seen near it would be a humiliation - but on the other hand, so would being forced to sleep outside in the rain if I blew my chances of this place to stay. It would be temporary, at least, I thought. It would be temporary.
We made our way inside and up the stairs. Everything inside the house extruded that same air of rather desperate cheerfulness, and when I finally got to ‘my’ room, I almost vomited. It was disgusting - pastel colours, lace, a rocking chair in the corner, everything more saccharine than I had thought imaginable. Nonetheless, I gave Charlie a smile as he helped me with my bags - he really was as servile and as easy to please as a house-elf, I thought dismissively - and made a show of appreciating the room. When he was gone, I heaved a massive sigh of relief and locked the door.
This was terrible.
This was worse than terrible. It would have been terrible to be stranded, to be in an unknown place in an unfamiliar country, to have to pretend to be somebody… well, that this was her room spoke volumes. What was worse than terrible was to be in such a position among Muggles!
But it couldn’t be helped. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, sooner or later, I would be well away from here - and Charlie and his entire town would pay the penalty for upsetting me.
For now, I had to turn my mind to the practicalities. As I unpacked the bags - ‘Bells’ had lamentably few clothes, and nothing remotely like what I was used to - I considered my situation. It was September, for a start. If school hadn’t started already, it would soon - I had to be prepared for the possibility that I would have to attend. And then there was the house - I got the impression that Bells was supposed to know her way around, so asking might put Charlie’s slow mind to work. I would have to investigate while he wasn’t there. And I had to be ready for the possibility that there might be somebody who would write to check that Bells had arrived safely.
Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair - and cursed. It was brown! My beautiful, sleek hair, the hair that was as perfectly black as it was perfectly Black, was gone, replaced by this hideous, boring, brown! And so short - it was lopped off just at my ribs, ugly and graceless and…
Hissing threats and curses down upon the head of whoever had done this to me, I leapt to my feet and rushed out of the room, thankfully meeting no resistance as I rushed up the stairs in search of a bathroom, hands tangled in my horribly brown hair. I finally found the tiny bathroom at the top of the house, kicked the door shut, and glared at my reflection in the mirror.
Hideous! Hideous! There was not a feature on my face that even suggested that I was a Black; not my lovely grey eyes, not my straight, slightly pointed nose, not my slim, graceful lips or my carefully-plucked eyebrows - the girl staring back at me was as Muggle, as ugly, and as ordinary as everything else here! Brown hair, brown eyes - only the skin was elegant at all, and even that was pallid and sallow, quite unlike my own smoothly ivory complexion. This face, like my own, was heart-shaped and passably handsome, but compared to the features of a pureblood Black, dull, uninteresting, plain. Horrified, I took an inadvertant step back from the mirror.
My eyes! My hair! What had happened to me? The figure in the mirror wasn’t quite as ugly as I had thought at first, but… no. No, I could not be stuck with looks like these! This was one more indignity on top of all the others, the straw to break my back, and I would not stand for it!
They would pay! Whoever had done this to me, for whatever motive and in whatever way, they would pay!
Strengthened somewhat by that thought, I tossed back ‘my’ hair - I could get rid of it easily, after all, once I had my wand again - and started a little more serenely back to my room. “They will pay,” I repeated under my breath, my lip curling, and smiled thinly. There would be a way out of this. And whoever had forced me into this mess would regret it until their dying breath - which I would ensure was much, much later than they would ask, pray, beg it to be.
There would be vengeance.