To Mr. Masper, who loves stories. To Mr. Nova, who loves them too. And to Mr. Moony, who heard this one first.

---

Bellacine Black wandered down the Hogwarts Express, finally stopping at the last compartment. She glanced inside and, very nervously, slid open the door. “Eh- hi. Mind- I mean, can I –eh- sit here?” The three occupants of the compartment turned to face her.

After an eternity of seconds, a girl with bushy brown hair smiled faintly at her and stood. “Hi, I’m Hermione. This is Ron-“ she pointed to a tall boy with very red hair “-and Harry” –a boy with black hair and a lightning-shaped scar across his forehead.

“I’m Bellacine. I’m new at Hogwarts, but I’m in third year as ve- well.” She sat down on a bench seat near the door, brushing her long black hair out of her eyes.

“As well? What do you-?” Ron stared at her. “Are you stalking us or something?”

“Okay, first off. There are five Weasleys here. Percy is in the prefects’ compartment. Fred and George are outside the compartment, chucking Dungbombs at it. You’re obviously not Ginny, so you’re Ron. Harry is obvious enough on his own and I suppose you’re Granger,” she said to Hermione.

“Exactly. You know who we all are, but you said yourself this is your first year here,” finished Ron.

Bellacine rolled her eyes. “I, unfortunately, have inside sources.”

“Such as…?” queried Hermione. “You know, you look kind of familiar….”

“I’m sure that I- I don’t, I can’t think where you’d’ve seen me before,” said Bellacine. “Inside sources? My cousin Dr-“

Just then, the compartment door slammed open, and in walked Draco Malfoy. “Well, speak of the devil,” said Bellacine, one hand in the pocket of her robes. “Get out. Get out of it now.” She pointed her wand straight at him.

“Talking to the Mudblood?” sneered Draco.

Behind her, Harry and Ron pulled out their wands.

“Shut up and get out of it, Draco, or I swear I’ll hex you,” Bellacine began threateningly.

What actually happened was far more entertaining. A ginger-colored cat that had been prowling the luggage rack above their heads suddenly slipped and fell right on Draco’s head. Apparently, he thought it actually was a hex. He yelled and ran down the train corridor. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Bellacine cracked up laughing and returned to their seats.

“So, where did you go to school before?” asked Hermione.

“Durmstrang.”

“Isn’t that in Russia or somewhere?”

“Or somewhere. But yeah.”

“Wow, then, do you speak Russian? I mean, isn’t that what language it’s in?”

“Actually it’s German, but everyone speaks Russian too. That’s why I went earlier- if you aren’t from Russia or Germany or some country like that, you go two years early to learn the language and Grindelvald, stuff like that.” Bellacine placed her trunk on the luggage rack with a flick of her wand. “Whose cat is this, anyway?”

“That’s Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat,” said Ron. “And he’s out to get Scabbers.”

“Um- who’s Scabbers?”

“Scabbers is Ron’s pet rat. He thinks Crookshanks is out to get it, so…yeah. My owl Hedwig is up there,” said Harry, pointing to a cage on the luggage rack. Bellacine sighed and turned to face out the window at the Scottish countryside rushing by…this time last year she had been on the Hesperus with Anya and Vasily Gnedich, Poliakoff, Krum, and….

---

The train was almost to Hogsmeade Station when it ground to a stop, brakes creaking. It would have been pitch black outside, if not for the waning moon.

Then the lamps suddenly hissed and flickered out.

“What the- where are we? Ow! Who are you?” Someone stumbled in and fell on top of Bellacine. Just as Hermione- for Bellacine could see her outline in the moonlight- stood to re-close the door, someone else stepped in.

“Hermione?”

“Who- Ginny?”

“Would whoever fell on my foot please get up very very quickly?”

Over in the far corner blue flames crackled into existence, illuminating the tired, lined face of a man. “Stay where you are,” he whispered, and withdrew his wand.

Just then a hand reached out to close the half-open door. It looked as though it were rotten through; like the hand of a man drowned and decaying in water. An icy cold doused the compartment, and suddenly Bellacine could remember nothing bright, nothing beautiful, nothing happy, as if it was always winter and never Christmas. Across from her, she heard a gasp like someone suffocating, and a dull thud.

“Go,” said the man. “None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks.” His voice was as hoarse as the voice of another man she had met last summer, before everything….She heard screaming, far off….

The dementor (for Bellacine recognized its long grey robes and that icy, penetrating bitterness) remained framed in the doorway.

The man raised his wand. “Expecto patronum,” and something silver-white shot out the end. Finally, thankfully, the dementor turned to leave and glided away.

She could still hear screaming…somewhere….

---

They had just reached the entrance hall at Hogwarts when a stern-faced witch called out, “Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!”

Harry and Hermione immediately left, leaving Ron and Bellacine behind. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Oh- right, that’s Professor McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration and she’s head of Gryffindor- you know, the houses. Gryffindor is what me, Harry, and Hermione are in.”

“Yeah, that’s right, the Houses.” Bellacine looked rather nervous.

“What House do you think you’ll be in?” asked Ron.

Bellacine blushed. “Well, my whole family has been in Slytherin. Nice, lovely people, the lot of them.”

“Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!”

“Hey, what’s tradition for if not to be broken? I certainly intend to.”

Just then, Professor McGonagall reappeared and ushered Bellacine off to the room where the first-years waited. Ron stared after her, positive she looked familiar-

Why?

---

The new students had all been sorted but one when Harry and Hermione rejoined Ron at the Gryffindor table. Professor Flitwick looked down at the next name on his list and shuddered slightly.

“Black, Bellacine….”

So that was it: with her long black hair and gaunt face, her expressionless grey eyes, she looked very similar to Sirius Black. Whispers broke out in the Great Hall:

“D’you reckon….”

“…Black, he said….”

Nevertheless, she walked to the Sorting Hat with her head held high. Bellacine must have heard the whispers, but she gave no indication of anything out of the ordinary.

She put the Sorting Hat on her head- it did not slip over her face as it did with the first-years, but she was older than they.

You’d do very well in Hufflepuff- loyal, and you’re fair. Not many can say that.

No-I want to be-

Or Ravenclaw, you’ve got brains, great brains. Never seen a mind like yours in all my days. And plenty of talent too.

I want to be in-

Slytherin, then, why not? You’re made for Slytherin, girl. So much power- ambition- cunning- brains. You could be great. You’re a Black. Slytherin is where you belong. Your parents were in Slytherin- did wonderfully, if I do say so myself. What do you say to that?

I want to be in Gryffindor. I’m not like them.

Very well then, sighed the Hat, sounding like a small child that didn’t get what it wanted on Christmas morning. Gryffindor it is.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Silence. Bellacine stood up, slowly, gleefully, and removed the Hat. She walked to the Gryffindor table, her head still held high.

“Hey, Hermione.”

Hermione, Ron, and Harry stared at her. She bit her lip and moved farther down the table. There- by a short boy with brown hair- an empty seat.

“Eh- hello, may I sit here?” If she didn’t find a seat soon- the Slytherins were starting to stare-

From a few seats down from the boy: “Oy, Neville, hand that down, will you?”

Only after the boy handed down a platter did he face her. Then it hit her.

“Oh my god- oh my god- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize- oh my god,” stammered Bellacine. Then she turned and ran all the way out of the Great Hall and through the school, till she found a small broom cupboard over a rather ugly tapestry of several dancing trolls, where she sat down, and finally allowed the tears to come.