Going back to Hogwarts had never been the same. Though the ride there had been normal (I sat alone and snacked on Chocolate Frogs the whole time), arriving felt too strange. It was immediate  -as soon as I got off the train, people stared, some glared, and a few first years even gasped when they saw my face.

I tried to ignore this, but it made me angry, which probably didn't help. The fierce look on my face that increased each time someone gasped or glared probably made the resemblance even more obvious.

Filch greeted us grumpily at the entrance and began to scan each individual student for Dark objects. I felt like we would never get in. When it was my turn, he glared menacingly as he ran the sensor over me. I glared back and proceeded to the Great Hall.

The feast was relatively normal, though I felt isolated the whole time. Dumbledore announced the usual, including staffing changes - Professor Slughorn, whom everyone had assumed would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, was announced as the new Potions teacher. Professor Snape had received D.A.D.A., the job he always wanted.

I went to the dormitory after the feast as usual. Lavender and Parvati were already there. Parvati smiled at me, but she had obviously forced it. Lavender looked apprehensive.

"Hi, Lavender. Hi, Parvati," I said dully. "Had a good summer?"

"Not bad," Parvati said, not bothering to keep the slightly nervous tremble out of her voice.

I tried to smile but it didn't work so well. I went and sat on my bed.

"So, uh ... " Lavender said. "Is it really true?"

"Is what true?" I asked.

"Are you really ... you know ... the Lestranges' daughter?"

I rolled my eyes and said sharply, "Don't you read the Prophet?"

Lavender looked shocked and turned away. I felt bad, but wasn't in the mood to apologize. Instead, I turned away from them and got off my bed, went to my trunk, and opened it.

Get it under control, I told myself. If you want people to see you as the same person, you can't act like a Death Eater's daughter.

I opened my trunk with more force than necessary and began to unload the books I would need for tomorrow. It wasn't really needed, but I needed something to occupy me.

At the bottom of the trunk was my broomstick. Something was different about it, though. I pulled it out and examined it.

Oh, no. It wasn't my Comet Two-Sixty, it was my Firebolt! I had grabbed the wrong one. I was determined to keep the Firebolt at home so thoughts of Sirius would stay away.

At least I won't need a broom, I thought. It's not like I play Quidditch or even fly at all for that matter.

I shoved the broom to the bottom of my trunk and buried it in my robes.

Schedules came out the next morning. I was scheduled to take the classes I had chosen for N.E.W.T. level - Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, D.A.D.A., Herbology, and Potions. It was great not only because I finally got to drop Divination, but because sixth years also got free periods.

Arithmancy was my first class, and I was particularly pleased - that is, until I got there. I had always liked Arithmancy, Professor Vector, and my classmates, but as soon as I walked in I received several hateful glares. The only one who wasn't giving me a look was Hermione, so I sat next to her, hoping it would be all right. We had, after all, sat next to each other in Arithmancy since third year.

"Uh ... hi, Hermione," I said cautiously.

"Hi," she said with a smile. She didn't seem intimidated by me like everyone else was.

Professor Vector turned around from the blackboard and faced the class with a clipboard in her hand. She began to go around the room and take role.

"Miss Granger, nice to have you back," she said. "I was very pleased with your ‘O' on the exam."

Hermione beamed, and Professor Vector moved on to me. "Miss Tonks, I see you're back."

"No," I said. "Miss Tonks won't ever be back." I was attempting at slight humor, but my voice came out cold.

Professor Vector stared at me for a moment before finally saying, "I've heard you are Miss Lestrange now, are you not?"

"Yes," I said.

She gave me a simple nod without looking at my face and walked off. I rolled my eyes, beginning to feel cross again.

"So ... it really is true?" Hermione asked carefully. "Well, I mean ... I know it is, but ... "

"Yeah," I said glumly. "Everything is true. The Lestranges' had a daughter before they were arrested, they were sent to Azkaban while their daughter was shipped off to her aunt and uncle ... there she was raised under a false name ... now she's sitting in this room. That's about all there is to say."

"Lyra," Hermione said softly. "Honestly, I don't see what the deal is ... I mean, you're the same person you were before everything, so I really think it's stupid that everyone is looking at you like this. I don't see you any differently."

"Thanks," I said, and I really meant it.

After Arithmancy, it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione and I walked together to the classroom on the third floor.

"It'll be interesting, won't it?" Hermione asked. "Snape teaching us."

"Yeah," I said. "Especially since he's been after the job for years."

We arrived just as Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were approaching. I caught Neville's eye and immediately turned my face, letting my hair hang over my eyes. He stopped upon catching my eye and froze. I turned for the door but couldn't get myself to move.

It was Luna who broke the silence. "Hello, Lucy. Had a good summer?"

Me? Was she seriously talking to me like that? Weird as it was, I had to admit her casualness was a nice change to all the glares I had received.

"It's Lindsey - uh ... no, it's not," I said.

"I'll be in the classroom," Hermione muttered to me as she turned to walk away. "Um, Luna, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Oh, yes, Care of Magical Creatures. I hear we might get to study Blibbering Humdingers this year. I should go now. Bye, Neville. Bye Lacey."

"It's Lindsey! I mean, Lyra!"

"Oh, you're Lyra, now? Why must you continue to change your name on me?" With those last words, she left.

"Don't mind her. She reads The Quibbler, not the Prophet," said Neville, who had finally found the courage to speak.

I nodded. "Well, ignorance is bliss."

More silence. I wondered if we even needed to address the issue that was glaring us in the face.

"Well, Neville, we should get to class - "

"Did I ever tell you that my mother collects Best Blowing Gum wrappers?" he said suddenly. I turned to stare with shocked confusion. "Um, no," I answered.

His face was so distant. I felt the only way I would make it to class on time - not that that was the most important issue at hand - was if I started this.

"Neville, look, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how hurt and scared and confused you feel right now. I understand if you feel angry at me, or betrayed, or lied to, but I promise you I had no idea that your parents were the reason mine were in prison."

"I should have known," he said, almost like he didn't realize I was standing there. His face looked as dreamy and distant as Luna Lovegood's. "You look so much like them. I had never really seen their faces until last year, when their pictures were in the Prophet. Still, I had no idea you ... " He broke off.

I breathed a quiet sigh. "Neville, I can't do anything about them, but I can promise you that I'm not like them. I would never do such a terrible thing." That's a lie, my conscious yelled at me. You've performed the same curse that sent your parents to prison and his to St. Mungo's for eternity. "I would hate to lose you as a friend because ... " A lump was now forming in my throat. "Because you're one of the few people who actually saw me as more than an outcast."

"I believe you," he said. "You were in Dumbledore's Army, right? You never knew your parents. You went with us to save your cousin when he was in danger. You saw me as more than an outcast, too."

"Neville ... it means so much to me that you still value our friendship even after you know who I'm related to, but I really don't feel worthy of being your friend anymore ... "

"Why? I still want to be your friend."

The lump was growing. "I'm not the greatest person out there - "

"Neither am I. Nobody is."

"You don't understand."

"Nobody understands anything right now."

"Well ... " Nobody had to find out I had used illegal curses before. As long as I never did it again, I could let the past be the past. I decided right then that I wasn't going to tell Neville. Why lose one of the few friendships I had? "All right. You have nothing against me?"

"No, not at all."

I nodded. "Thanks, Neville. We should get to class."

"Yeah. Professor Snape's teaching Defense this year. We'll see how that goes."

We entered. The fact that Snape now used this classroom was easy to see. I said goodbye to Neville as he went to sit with Dean and Seamus. It was all right with me; after that talk I could have used some time to think on my own. I took a seat in the back corner as far away from Snape as possible. It was the perfect spot as nobody sat next to me and the desks to the front and left of it were unoccupied.

Snape began to walk around the classroom and take role, his black cape trailing behind him. When he approached me, he smiled grimly and said, "Ah, Miss Tonks ... or should I say, Miss Lestrange ... "

Anger boiled inside me as usual, but it was easier to feel this toward Snape than anyone else. Three seats in front of me, I heard Draco Malfoy snigger. I glared at Snape.

He glared back and said, "Move closer. You're too far to the back."

So much for my perfect seat. I glared at him again, though he couldn't see it due to the fact that he was already moving to the front of the class.

Snape addressed the class and talked about the course objectives before he showed us a few pictures of the Dark Arts being performed - the Dementor's Kiss, an Inferius, and the Cruciatus Curse (my stomach lurched uncomfortably), all of which we would learn about in the coming year. He then told us that we would be working on nonverbal spells throughout the year. We paired up to practice jinxing and blocking in silence.

Of course, there was an odd number. I was left standing in the corner.

"Miss Lestrange," Snape said with that same smile. "It appears that you are left ... alone. Which means you will have to practice with me."

Oh, joy.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Get ready. I will try to jinx you, you will block it. You must do it nonverbally."

"Yes, sir."

It happened in a split-second. He flicked his wand and mine fell from my hand-Disarmed.

"I told you to block it," he snarled.

"You were too quick for me."

"What's that?"

"I said you were too quick for me."

"You may have noticed that I went easy on you. Disarming is not a jinx. However, I thought ... for a first timer ... well, we'll try this again."

He flicked his wand. In my head, I said, Protego! and Snape's jinx rebounded off my invisible shield.

"Yes," he said. "But you could have been quicker. Now, why don't you try to jinx me?"

I tried to think of a good jinx. The only one that came to mind was the Impediment Jinx, which Harry had taught in the D.A. last year.

Impedimenta, I thought. Snape was obviously quick enough to block it. With a lazy flick of his wand, the jinx rebounded.

"Surely you could do better than that!" he snapped.

I glared at the ground and muttered, "You're the teacher. I don't have a chance."

"What's that?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Tell me!"

"I said I don't stand a chance against you because you're the teacher!" I yelled.

"Detention, Miss Tonks ... ah, no. Miss Lestrange. "Eight-o-clock tonight, my office."

"Right," I groaned. "I'll be there."

"Now, let's try again. Obviously you're still not getting the hang of it, so I'll continue to go easy ... " He Disarmed me again.

As I bent down to pick up my wand, he said, "It would be nice if you would put forth some actual effort."

"I am!" I exclaimed.

"Apparently not! Try to jinx me again. I assure you I will block it, because I, unlike you, am actually trying."

"I am trying!"

"Then prove it!"

I pointed my wand at him. My anger had reached its max; it would be easy now. The consequences really didn't matter ... Cruc ... Cruc ...

"Get on with it!"

Cruci ... no. This was the wrong choice by far. Impedimenta.

He blocked it and thundered, "I told you to give effort!"

"I gave effort!"

I was now aware that everyone in the class was staring at the scene. My wand was still pointed directly at Snape. He looked at me menacingly with his wand pointed too. He seemed too preoccupied looking at my face - which, when I was glaring with extreme hatred, looked exactly like my mother's - that he missed my jinx.

Impedimenta.

It hit, and Snape said, "Well, well ... it appears you got it correctly ... once. Next time I won't go so easy on you. It's a shame you felt the need to make a scene in order to distract me so you could perform."

"Ugh!" I roared in rage, and began to insult him with as many profanities as I knew.

"Make that a week of detentions, Miss Lestrange," Snape said without bothering to hide his amusement. "There's no need for that kind of language in my class. Remember, eight-o-clock."

"I know!" I snarled, and began to stomp out of the classroom as I called him more names. I reached the door and grabbed the knob, turning it forcefully. I kicked the door angrily and began to step out. I looked back once, only to see Snape shake his head and say, "Like mother, like daughter."

I slammed the door and ran off, trembling with rage and thinking about how much I wanted to curse him, to inflict as much pain on him as possible. He deserved it.

You did what?

I was in the dormitory alone after leaving D.A.D.A. early. I decided to vent my feelings to Dora through our journals.

I told you! I said a bunch of stuff to him and nearly cursed his head off! What part of that don't you understand?

You really, really need to stop. You need to get things under control. Imagine what could have happened if you did curse him.

I know what would have happened, Dora; I'm not an idiot! I know what happened to my parents when they used that curse!

All right! But listen, Lyra ... you really, really, really, really

Get on with it.

You really need to get this under control. I know it's hard, but there are ways.

What kind of ways?

Well, you need to vent your anger into something else. This journal, for instance. However, I won't always be around for you to write. Why don't you get a regular journal?

I don't write. I don't have time, anyway. I only had time for this because I cut class.

Forget it, then. If you're not willing to take my advice, I'll just leave.

The words faded on the page, indicating that she had closed her journal. Or slammed it shut. I wrote one quick message to her, not caring if she got it later.

I want to talk to you next Hogsmeade weekend.

Dora was being stationed in Hogsmeade due to Auror duties, so I would have a chance to see her then. I just wasn't sure when the next trip would be.