Chapter twenty-one: Bellatrix and Snape

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Chapter twenty-one:

Hermione gasped and put a hand to her mouth; Ron gasped; Harry looked away.

"A Dark Mark," Ron whispered.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you guys earlier. . . ."

Hermione pulled my sleeve back over my arm. When I raised an eyebrows, she just shook her head. I guessed she didn't want to see it; I didn't either, but I wasn't exactly given a choice, now was I?

"Does the Order know?" Ron asked.

I nodded.

"Who else?" Hermione said.

"Draco, Dumbledore, and Snape," I said.

"Bella, why didn't you tell us?" Hermione whispered.

"I didn't want you to think of me as 'one of them' because I'm not."

"We wouldn't think that," Ron said.

"Draco did," I said, sighing.

"Malfoy's a git," Ron said, forgetting Draco was my cousin. "Oh sorry," he said hurriedly, after catching a look from Hermione.

"No, it's fine," I said.

"Harry?" Hermione said.

There was no reply from our fourth companian. "Harry?" Ron tried.

But Harry still didn't turn.

"Harry, turn around," I said.

Finally Harry turned and he was . . .  smiling?

"What're smiling about?" I snapped at him.

"You finally told," he replied, his grin getting wider (as if it could).

"You," I said, breaking into a smile, "are the weirdest person I've ever met."

Hermione and Ron finally smiled.

Twenty minutes later I had to go back to Snape's quarters, so I said good-bye to my friends and left for Snape's. As I entered the classroom (to see if Snape was in there) I heard talking in Snape's office. As I neered the door, I realized it was Snape and Umbridge.

"It is a highly difficult potion," Snape argued.

"And yet, you are a potions master and cannot make it?" replied Umbridge.

"I can make it!" snarled Snape.

"Then do it," came Umbridge's high-pitched, girly voice. I hid in the shadows as she walked out of the room, smiling the entire way. Then I walked into Snape's office.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"None of your bussiness," Snape said coolly.

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Was there something you wanted?" Snape snapped.

"Maybe," I said.

"Then what was it?" he said.

"How much trouble would I get in if I told two more people might know my story?" I stared into a jar of something.

For a second Snape didn't reply. Then he said, "Please tell me Granger and Weasley don't know."

"Okay," I said, picking up the jar.

"'Okay,' what?"

"I won't tell you."


"I said I wouldn't tell you," I reasoned.

"How many more people are you going to tell, Bella?"

"Maybe the whole school," I said sarcastically. "No one. It was just Ron and Hermione."

I was Snape was rolling his eyes. "Who next?" he asked, not being mean, but his tone hinted it. "Longbottom? The rest of the Weasleys? The club you were caught in?"

"No," I tried to say, but Snape ignored me.

"Oh I know! Why don't we just tell the entire school! It would save us a huge amount of trouble -"

"It was just Ron and Hermione!" I yelled, finally snapping. "You are always yelling at me! It's my secret! It's my life! So what if I want to tell Ron and Hermione!? So what if I want to tell the entire school!? It's not your decision!" I stalked out of his office and walked to the quarters, muttering the password, and made my way to my room seconds later and slammed the door.

The white walls just made things worse; it's not that I hate white, it's just that it made me feel . . . weird. I can't explain it. Taking a breath while pacing the room, I tore my robe off and tried to calm myself down, tried to think of something other than my life, anything.


I didn't answer back, only kept pacing.


He wasn't yelling, that was good, but he could start at any time. Again, I didn't reply.

"Bella, come out here," Snape called.



"No, and you can't make me."

I heard Snape sigh, then nothing. I sat down on the floor in front of my bed and sighed, leaning my head down. I took my wand out and placed it on the bed, then got up. I sat on my bed, moving my wand again. Then, again, I moved it to the desk in the room. Then I laid down on the bed, curling up under the covers, letting my hair fall over my face.

When I woke it was completely dark in my room and the only light was from the moon shine coming in from the window. I sat up, looking at my watch for the time: twelve a.m.

A sudden tapping on my window made me look over. I got up, walked over, took the note from the owl after opening the window, watched as the bird flew away, then turned to the note.

The writing was odd; I'd never seen it before. But it looked vaguely familiar; almost like I had seen it but hadn't thought about it in a while . . .

Then my heart stopped. I walked slowly over to my desk and picked up the note that lay on it.

My name is Bella, it read.

And it matched the writing on the note. So I could only draw one conclusion.

My mother had written to me.


So sorry for the late upload, just school's been hetic and all *deep breath* anyway, comment, vote, whatever floats your boat. Hey, that ryhmed!

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