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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Days passed, and with each sunrise, their lessons grew more grueling. The weight of their studies, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts, pressed harder than ever before. Professor Moody, with his unnerving magical eye scanning every corner, had begun pushing them beyond their limits. His latest announcement sent a ripple of unease through the class—each student would face the Imperius Curse. A shiver of tension filled the room as Moody explained that this was not only a demonstration of the curse's terrifying control but also a test of their inner strength.
Beatrice thought it was absolute nonsense. She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to say something out loud as Professor Moody explained the lesson. It was dangerous, reckless even—they were just students, not soldiers preparing for battle. What was the point of putting them through this now? They should be learning this years later, not in their fourth year. She wasn't the only one who felt this way either; she could sense the tension radiating from the others, their nervous glances confirming her thoughts. The entire class was uneasy, but no one dared to voice their objections.
One by one, her classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
Soon, it was Harry's turn. Beatrice watched as he stepped forward, her hands tensing around the edge of the desk. The room seemed to hold its breath, expecting some sort of reaction once Moody cast the curse. But to everyone's surprise, Harry didn't react or struggle the way the others had.
After Professor Moody congratulated Harry, the room was still buzzing with whispers of disbelief. Beatrice felt her heart rate quicken as Moody's mismatched eyes locked onto her.
— Lestrange, you're next, — he said, gesturing for her to step forward.
Beatrice swallowed hard. She hated this, hated how dangerous it was, how they were being used as test subjects for something they weren't ready for. But there was no turning back now. She stepped into the center of the room, her head held high, refusing to show her nerves. Moody's wand raised, and for a brief moment, she caught her breath.
— Imperio! — Moody bellowed, the spell flashing toward her.
For a moment, everything went blissfully blank. Beatrice's mind felt light, like a cloud floating above any worries or thoughts. There was a calm voice, deep within her consciousness, gently nudging her to relax, to let go. She heard Moody's voice, distant but clear: "Jump on the desk."
And for a second, she almost did. Her feet twitched, the impulse strong, almost irresistible. But then, something tugged at her—a defiant spark flared inside her chest, a reminder of who she was. She wasn't a puppet to be controlled. Beatrice clenched her fists, fighting back against the foreign pull on her mind.
