Beatrice Lestrange has always been an outsider in her own story. Born into one of the darkest families in the wizarding world, she grew up under the looming shadow of her infamous mother Bellatrix Lestrange.
Despite this, Beatrice is nothing like th...
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The air in the Malfoy Manor had been heavy since the night of the Quidditch World Cup. Bea received a letter from Leanne the next day, reassuring her that she was fine and so were Susan and Hannah, that helped her calm a bit after all of the chaos but Beatrice, Mattheo, and Draco had all noticed Lucius' uncharacteristic behavior—his nerves were visible in the taut lines of his face, and his usual calm arrogance had been replaced with something closer to fear.
Narcissa had done her best to soothe them, assuring that it was nothing to worry about, but the tension was palpable.
As the morning to return to Hogwarts arrived, Beatrice tried to push the lingering unease from her mind, focusing on packing the last of her things. Dressed in her Hufflepuff uniform, she folded a few spare robes into her trunk when Mattheo walked into her room, leaning against the doorframe.
— You ready? — he asked softly, though his tone lacked the usual teasing spark.
Beatrice looked up, her hands momentarily pausing. She could tell from the tightness in his voice that he felt it too, the uncertainty. — Almost, —she said, closing her trunk with a soft thud. — Are you? —
Mattheo shrugged, walking further into the room, his eyes flicking briefly toward the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. — It'll be good to get back to Hogwarts, away from...this. — he muttered, motioning vaguely to the manor. — Lucius has been unbearable. You can feel it, can't you? —
Beatrice nodded, her brows furrowing. — I've never seen him like this before. He's scared. —
— Yeah, — Mattheo agreed, sitting on the edge of her bed. — And if he's scared, something bigger is coming. Whatever happened that night, it's not over. —
Beatrice sat down beside him, feeling the weight of his words settle in the pit of her stomach. — I just hope it doesn't follow us back to Hogwarts. —
Mattheo gave a hollow laugh. _ You know it will.— He looked at her, his expression softening. — But we'll deal with i t— he gave her a nodd.
As they got downstairs, Draco, as usual, was already talking excitedly about the Triwizard Tournament. He had been obsessed with the idea all summer, going on about how he was sure he could be chosen, despite the age restrictions. — I'm telling you, there's no way they won't pick me if they see what I can do, — he boasted, glancing sideways at Beatrice and Mattheo.
But for Beatrice, the tournament represented the opposite of what she wanted. All she longed for was a quiet, uneventful year—something that felt increasingly impossible with each passing day. The thought of being pulled into something as dangerous as the Triwizard Tournament was enough to make her anxious. It was just one more thing to avoid.
As soon as they went to the station and she stepped onto the train, she excused herself, heading straight for the Hufflepuff compartment. She needed to check on her friends to make sure they were okay. The unease from the World Cup still gnawed at her, and seeing their familiar faces would give her some peace of mind.
