Bellamione - her beloved monster

5. The Wrong Selwyn

September 23, 1968

Hermione found herself at the edge of the forbidden forest.
The fine patent leather shoes full of dirt, she trudged up the hill with her suitcase.
In the distance, she could already see the Gryffindor Tower rising above the clouds.
A few minutes later she was standing in front of the still magnificent Hogwarts Castle.
Even if it was 30 years earlier, she recognized it again.
The charm, that feeling of being at home, which she left so suddenly.
She had no plan, no idea, just her mind and the certainty that no one here knew her or just referred to her as "the friend of the boy who lived."
If she was correct, Bellatrix must have been 17 and still studying at Hogwarts. The witch with the shaggy brown hair passed the gate and found herself in a huge crowd.
A crowd of young Ravenclaw schoolgirls gazing at her with wide eyes.
Hermione noticed that she was still wearing her clothes from 1998.
"By Merlin's beard!" She muttered and hurried into the school building.

She was about to turn towards the classrooms when an unknown lady grabbed her sleeve and dragged her through the corridors.
"What strange clothes are you wearing and - and you don't seem like a schoolgirl to me!" The brunette lady with the olive-green cloak put on a puzzled face.
It was a young Minerva McGonagall, probably in her early years as a teacher, Hermione thought.
"No - no." She stammered: "I want to see the school principal, I've moved. My father says I should get in touch with him -"
"Moved?" The Head of House Gryffindor led her prospective student up the massive staircase, knocked three times on the antique oak door, and they entered Dumbledore's office.
His room was bathed in a light blue, several globes stood close together on the shelves and the paintings, as always, had a life of their own.
There he sat, as alive as ever, sticking a lemon drop in his mouth.
"Who did you bring with you, Minerva?"

The headmaster looked much younger but still wore his beloved purple cloak.
"Albus, she says she's new. Her father sent her to you. "
"Really?" He searched between the candy wrappers and chocolate frog cards for documents."Then I'm sorry, my dear, I certainly have to perform a clean-up spell here. What's your name, child? "
Hermione had hardly thought about that."Hermione -" She bit her lip, "Hermione Selwyn. My family has lived in France until now, my father was recently transferred here."
Professor Dumbledore rose and held out his hand. "Welcome to our school, Ms. Selwyn."
Then he threw his phoenix a joyful look and glanced into the irritated face of his colleague.
"But Albus, what house is she going to live in?" McGonagall frowned.
"Well, how about Ms. Selwyn first making friends and being assigned to another ceremony tonight?"
Hermione nodded in embarrassment and left the headmaster's office with her wand raised.
Hermione Selwyn.

An unfamiliar name, she thought.
Now she wandered through the hallways of her school with her suitcase.
She wanted to enjoy it, enjoy that the castle was so beautifully intact.
Find friends. Choosing a house.
Gryffindor, it was in her head. Hermione had long missed the warming open fire, her fluffy bed, and the view from her beloved tower, even if it was only for a short time.

- Task - find Bellatrix Black, prevent meetings, travel back, get galleons -
Her only way out seemed her favorite place. And a little later she wandered through the seemingly endless rows of books in the school library.
She was puzzled because she had supposedly read all these works.
No, 1968 had a lot of specimens that they probably got rid of later.
Like "the best anti-pimple pastes, dancing with thestrals or the 100 best jokes" to fool the teachers.
The latter was probably only banned from Hogwarts when Fred and George arrived.
Hermione spied a book with an unknown spine out of the corner of her eye, she reached for it when -

"Take your fingers off immediately! The book is mine, doll!"
"I beg your pardon - what?"
She jumped out of her skin and stumbled against the back shelf, from which a pile of books tumbled. It was the person on the other side of the book who was also tugging at this one.
"Didn't you listen to me? This is mine! I had it first! "
Hermione tried to spot the person. She pushed aside another copy of contemporary art and the young witch stared at her with an open mouth.
She only saw her eyes, but that was enough.
Hermione got so lost in them that she only started several seconds later.

The young witch knew those eyes.
Those who last glistened with lust for murder.
But now they were softer, the eyelids more delicate.
The stranger suddenly turned and roamed through the rest of the shelves.
The brown-haired witch hurried after her, saw her back, and just grabbed her cloak.
"Who are you? Let me go!" The student turned abruptly to Hermione.
Now she was sure. This was the girl in the photo.
Her lips glowed blood red, raven-black curls fell gently over the velvet of her clothes and her skin shone rosily.

No.
This wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange.
This was Bellatrix Black.
Narcissa Malfoy was right, Hermione thought, these two were completely different people.