Lestrange

Just, Charlie

What most people forget is that karma can be a complete and utter bitch when it comes to decisions made during a war. One decision and a very large bottle of red wine led to a rather sizable mistake, as many would put it. A child born to the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange. Unwanted, but a new death eater loyal to the dark lord from birth was impossible to pass up, but raising a child while terrorizing the wizarding world wasn't exactly easy.

The young girl, promptly named Charlie, was passed from one faction of Death Eaters to another, with the occasional visit to her relatives, the Malfoys. She harbored a profound disdain for them all since her birth. Thus, when presented with the opportunity, she fled and successfully established contact with the headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute, aspiring to distance herself as much as possible from her family.

The institute quickly forwarded the information to the ministry and in record time Charlie was picked up on the streets of Diagon Alley by Selene Borovkov. The nicest person across the entire Durmstrang faculty, and was voted the only person a frightened girl would trust. The slavic woman escorted the young, timid girl to the secret location of the Durmstrang Institute which required a sleigh ride, a very long walk through the woods to a very specific pair of twisted trees, followed by another very long hike. The castle was perched on cliffs edge overlooking a vast sea with a large port with three red sailed brigantine vessels.

Charlie was given a hot meal, a warm bath and received a stack of spare uniforms tailored to her size, along with books and supplies. It was the first time she had been shown any real kindness, and her early arrival allowed her time to settle in and familiarize herself with the grounds—Charlie's new home.

As the students started arriving and the evening approached, Charlie was teaming with excitement at the opportunity to don her formal red robes only to worn on special occasions. They were crafted from finest red dyed wool, featuring an off-the-shoulder cloak lined with soft dark brown fur, complemented by knee-high boots adorned with laces. She held her head high, taking pride in the colors she now wore, standing among her fellow students, liberated from the torment she suffered throughout a significant portion of her life. They were organized in pairs, with boys on one side and girls on the other, standing at attention before the grand oak table where their professors and headmasters sat. Should a Muggle observe them, they might easily mistake them for soldiers, were it not for their gentle round faces and wide doe-like eyes.

Charlie scanned the line up and saw roughly one hundred first-years gathered together. She nervously observed the returning students, adorned in casual brown or dark grey wool sweater buttoned up with a side flap, trousers, along with a sturdy leather belt and boots.

The hall consisted of five rows of three lengthy tables, all oriented towards a grand oak table. Blue flame torches adorned the stone walls, and a vast tapestry of the institution's crest suspended above the stone archway leading into the hall. The tapestry depicted two Phoenixes, their wings unfurled, overshadowing the skull of a sizable elk, casting shadows that were as deep and enigmatic as the institution's esteemed reputation—a reputation that mirrored her own.

"Greetings, first-year students. Allow me to extend my heartfelt congratulations on your inaugural year at the Durmstrang Institute, an esteemed institution where you will delve into the profound complexities of magic and the dark arts." The headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, announced, gesturing for the first-year students to take their seats among their peers. Unlike the sorting system at Hogwarts, the philosophy here is straightforward: one must either master the art of survival or face failure.

Charlie cautiously broke formation, detaching herself from the crowd as she seated herself at a relatively unoccupied table to distance herself from the loud groups of returning friends and everyone else she held in deep suspicion. Despite her lack of trust in anyone, Charlie harbored a keen desire to call someone a friend; however, as her stomach growled, the idea of forming friendships seemed considerably less important. In light of the feast before her, it required considerable restraint to refrain from indulging with her bare hands. Months had passed since she had last enjoyed a proper meal, subsisting on scraps or whatever morsels she could procure. Even her meals before tonight were simple.