The Daughter of Darkness

The Great Hall fell into an eerie silence, the kind that hummed with shock and disbelief. The Sorting Hat’s shout echoed in the vast space and it felt as though time itself had frozen. All eyes were on Joa Lestrange.

Joa blinked, her pulse racing in her ears. ‘Gryffindor?’ The word felt foreign, impossible, hanging in the air like a misstep. She had expected anything but this. Slytherin was where she had assumed she'd go, where her family’s legacy would lead her. But now... now she was on her own.

Joa’s gaze shifted and caught Draco’s as Professor McGonagall removed the hat from her head. He sat frozen, his mouth slightly open, his grey eyes wide with shock. He was stunned- truly stunned.

Joa’s heart sank like a stone, her stomach twisting in tight knots. She didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know what he must be thinking. She’d betrayed him, hadn’t she? She’d betrayed them. The Malfoys. Aunt Narcissa. Even if it wasn’t her fault, even if she hadn’t asked for this, it would be seen that way. Aunt Narcissa had always been kind to her, and now... what would she think? Would she feel betrayed too?

‘I didn’t choose this’, she thought desperately, hoping Draco could somehow hear her. ‘It wasn’t my decision.’

But he just stared at her, his expression unreadable now, his shock morphing into something she couldn’t decipher. Was it disappointment? Anger? Hurt?

Her legs felt like lead, but Joa forced herself to move, to walk away from the stool and the Sorting Hat. Every step toward the Gryffindor table felt heavy, her feet dragging as if she were walking through water. She could hear the murmurs- sharp, judgmental, disbelieving. They were all about her.

Her feet finally carried her close to the end of the table, where a tall boy with flaming red hair and a shiny prefect’s badge on his chest was sitting. He looked slightly startled as she approached but quickly put on an official, if awkward, smile.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” he said, his voice slightly too loud as if trying to compensate for the tension in the air. “I’m Percy Weasley, the fifth-year prefect.”

Joa nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her throat felt too tight, her words stuck behind the lump that refused to budge. Percy seemed to sense her discomfort, and his smile faltered slightly, unsure of what to say next. Sitting next to Percy was a girl who also wore a prefect’s badge. She had long, dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail and soft brown eyes. Her face was kind, and when she noticed how Joa seemed to be shrinking into herself, she gave her a reassuring smile.

“Hi there,” the girl said, her voice gentle. “I’m Florence Smallflower, also a prefect. You can call me Flo, if you like.” Her tone was warm and genuine, without the awkward formality of Percy’s greeting. “You must be feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, but don’t worry. Gryffindor’s a good place to be.”

Joa managed a small, shy nod, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of her robes. Flo’s kindness was a relief, but the tension in the hall still pressed down on her like a weight. She felt every gaze, every whisper. The Gryffindors around her were still murmuring quietly, exchanging glances, clearly wondering how a Lestrange could possibly belong in their house. Joa slid onto the bench next to Flo, keeping her head down, trying to ignore the glances and the soft whispers. Flo, sensing her discomfort, shot a glance at the nearest group of whispering students- a warning look that seemed to silence them, at least for the moment.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Flo said, leaning in slightly, as if sensing Joa’s turmoil. “Sorting can be… unexpected sometimes. But Gryffindor will be good for you, you’ll see.”

Joa nodded again, still too shy and overwhelmed to speak. Her hands twisted in her lap, and she focused on breathing, trying to calm her racing heart. The last thing she wanted was to draw more attention to herself. The weight of everything pressed down on her. She felt out of place, sitting at the Gryffindor table. She wasn’t one of them. She didn’t belong here- not really. How could she? Gryffindor was supposed to be for the brave, the noble, the good-hearted. What was she? A Lestrange. A name steeped in darkness, a family bound to The Dark Lord's legacy.

‘Why did the hat choose me for Gryffindor?’ she wondered. The doubt gnawed at her, relentless. Was it a mistake? Maybe the hat had been wrong. It had to have been one. Maybe she didn’t belong anywhere.

She glanced down the table, catching snippets of conversation here and there, but her mind was too clouded to make sense of the words. Everything felt distant, as if she were watching it all unfold from behind a pane of glass. 

She cast another glance at Draco, hoping for some sign that he didn’t hate her, that they were still… family. But he had turned away now, his gaze fixed somewhere else. Joa’s heart sank further.

‘I haven’t betrayed you’, she thought desperately. ‘Please understand…’ 

But there was no way to know if he did.

But something that was a lot worse than being forced apart from her cousin was about to happen for Joa. She already felt awful for not being sorted into Slytherin but the next two words that came from McGonagall’s mouth made her heart plummet. 

“Longbottom, Neville.”

The name hit her like a physical blow, and her body instinctively tensed. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot, and she shrank into herself, wanting nothing more than to disappear. She knew the name, of course. Everyone knew the name. Longbottom was a name that carried with it a tragic story- one her own mother had played the cruel villain in.

As Neville Longbottom shuffled forward to the stool, Joa’s face burned with shame. She felt sick, the very air around her suddenly oppressive, as if the walls of the Great Hall were closing in on her. Her throat tightened, and her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.

‘What did I do to deserve this?’ she thought desperately, as the weight of her mother's legacy bore down on her once again. She could hear the whispers already spreading through the hall like wildfire, could feel the eyes of her new housemates on her, and knew without a doubt that they were all thinking the same thing.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her mother had tortured Neville’s parents into madness. It was one of the most infamous acts committed just after the last war had ended, a crime that had left an indelible mark on the wizarding world. And now here she was, sat not too far away from the boy who’s life had been shattered by her mother.

The whispers grew louder, and though she tried to block them out, they seemed to seep into her mind, each word a fresh wound. 

“Longbottom’s parents… she was involved, wasn’t she? The Cruciatus Curse…”

“Can you believe it? A Lestrange and a Longbottom…”

“In the same year too…”

Joa bit her lip hard, trying to shrink even further into herself, but it was impossible. The shame was overwhelming. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone could see right through her- see all the darkness that came with her name. Her head dipped lower, and she curled in on herself, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

She dared a glance at Neville, who sat on the stool now, his nervous face illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He looked as anxious as she felt, his round cheeks flushed with worry. He was waiting, just as she had waited moments before, for the Sorting Hat to decide where he belonged. She clenched her hands into fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady her breathing. The shame felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to look away from Neville, to pretend this wasn’t happening, but she couldn’t. Her gaze was fixed on him, as though she were waiting for some inevitable moment of confrontation, a moment where he would look at her and know.

‘He’ll know’, she thought. ‘He’ll know what my mother did. He’ll know it was her… and he’ll hate me for it’.

Joa felt a pang of guilt pierce her heart. She had barely been born yet when her mother had tortured Neville’s parents, barely a year old. But it didn’t matter. She carried the weight of that horror in her name, in her blood. How could she ever face him? How could she ever be in the same class as him, knowing that her mother had destroyed his family?

The Sorting Hat still hadn’t spoken, and the tension in the hall seemed to thicken with every passing second. The whispers hadn’t stopped. They were swirling around her, as if the entire school was fixated on the unspoken connection between Neville and her as the minutes ticked by.

“Her mother did it, didn’t she? To his parents?”

“I can’t believe they’re in the same year... Poor Neville.”

“Do you think she’s like her? Like Bellatrix?”

Joa’s breath hitched. She wanted to scream at them to stop, to tell them that she wasn’t her mother, that she wasn’t like her, that she didn’t even know her mother. But the words stayed trapped in her throat, suffocated by fear and shame. No one would listen. Why should they listen? He was the real victim in this. Why should people care to hear her thoughts?

And then, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, she felt something- a warm, comforting weight draping across her shoulders.

“Don’t listen to them,” Flo whispered softly from next to her, her voice gentle but firm. “They don’t know you. They don’t know who you really are.”

Joa swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. Flo’s kindness, her simple gesture of comfort, was enough to make tears prick the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t used to kindness like this, being raised alone in the dark halls of the Lestrange Manor hadn’t allowed her much real comfort. But here was this stranger, this girl who didn’t know anything about her, offering her kindness without judgement.

“They’ll get bored of talking,” Flo continued quietly, her arm still resting gently on Joa’s shoulders. “People always do. Just focus on you, alright? You’re not your family. You’re not your mother.”

Joa nodded, but the shame still gnawed at her, persistent and relentless. She knew that Flo meant well, that she was trying to help, but it didn’t change the reality of who she was. She was a Lestrange. She was the daughter of Bellatrix, and that would follow her for the rest of her life.

She looked back at Neville again, her heart sinking even further. He was still sitting on the stool, still waiting. The Sorting Hat was silent, as if it was taking its time, weighing its decision carefully. It reminded Joa of how long it had taken to sort her, how it had hesitated, how it had struggled with her own divided nature. Neville shifted slightly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his nervousness clear for everyone to see. Joa felt a surge of sympathy for him, despite the overwhelming guilt. He looked so scared, so unsure of himself.

‘He deserves better than this’, she thought. ‘Please put him in any other house. It’d be better than being in the same house as me. Better than being reminded every day of what happened to his parents’.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the whispers, trying to block out the noise in her own head. But it was no use. It was all too much. The fear, the shame, the guilt- it was suffocating her, crushing her beneath its relentless weight.

And then, as if sensing her turmoil, Flo squeezed her shoulder gently, offering silent support. Joa took a shaky breath, grateful for the small comfort, even if it didn’t erase the pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Sorting Hat spoke.

“Gryffindor!”

The word rang out across the hall, breaking the silence like a clap of thunder. Neville blinked in surprise, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe it. He stood, awkwardly fumbling with the hat before handing it back to Professor McGonagall.

The Gryffindor table erupted into applause, but it wasn’t as loud or enthusiastic as it had been for others. The whispers hadn’t fully died down, and Joa could feel the weight of them still lingering in the air. People were still watching her, still talking about her, and now, they were watching Neville, too.

Neville made his way toward the Gryffindor table, his steps slow and hesitant. Joa shrank further into herself, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know where he would sit, didn’t know if he would come near her. The idea of being so close to him made her stomach churn with guilt. She didn’t deserve to sit beside him, not after what her family had done. 

But as Neville neared the table, his eyes flicked up, meeting hers for the briefest of moments. Joa’s breath caught in her throat. His expression wasn’t angry, wasn’t hateful- it was just… uncertain. Nervous. Maybe even a little scared.

Joa looked away quickly, her face burning with shame. She couldn’t bear to keep his gaze, couldn’t bear the thought of what he must think of her.

But Neville walked past her, choosing a seat a little further down the table. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any comment about her, didn’t even seem to react to her presence at all. He just sat down quietly, his head ducked low as he tried to blend in with the other first years.

Joa let out a shaky breath, the tension in her chest loosening ever so slightly. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t confronted her. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.

“Malfoy, Draco.”

She was wrong. 

Her head snapped up as her cousin made his way up to the stool with that familiar cool confidence he always carried, like he knew exactly how the world would treat him and how he was going to handle it. She watched him carefully as he sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Joa knew, deep down, what was about to happen. She knew where Draco belonged- there was never any question. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys went to Slytherin. It was as natural as breathing. Though that should’ve been true for her…

But it was for Draco as the hat barely touched his head before it shouted, “Slytherin!”

Draco smirked as he took off the hat, casting a glance in Joa’s direction as he headed toward the Slytherin table. It wasn’t a cruel smirk, just a confident one, like he had been sorted into exactly the place he knew he was meant to be. To be fair, he was. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, a flicker of curiosity there and maybe a slight hint of empathy, but he didn’t say anything as he walked to the other side of the room. He just sat down where the Slytherin table exploded with applause, welcoming him with the kind of enthusiasm a Malfoy should expect.

Draco was in Slytherin, where he belonged. And Joa was in Gryffindor, where she was sure to be an outcast. 

Joa couldn’t help but think of her family, well, Draco’s family. They were related to her but they were Draco’s family first, never mind the letters she had exchanged with them. Now she’s become a Gryffindor, what would they think? Joa swallowed hard, trying to ignore the gnawing fear that was creeping up her spine. What if her aunt and uncle were furious? What if they saw this as a failure, as a disgrace? 

Her chest tightened at the thought, and she dared a quick glance back at the Slytherin table. Draco was sitting there now, already surrounded by his new housemates, but his eyes briefly flicked toward her. She met his gaze for a split second before looking away again, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. 

The Sorting continued around her, but she barely registered the names being called. She didn’t even notice when Parvati Patil, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sorted into her new house, though their entrances into the hall had sparked an excited buzz of whispers that rippled through the students. Joa was too wrapped up in her own thoughts, too consumed by the fear of what her sorting meant for her future, for her place in her family, for her relationship with Draco.

‘What if I’ve betrayed them?’ she thought, her heart sinking. Sitting here at the Gryffindor table, she was surrounded by strangers who probably knew more about her mother’s crimes than they did about her, making Joa felt a horrible sense of displacement. It was as though she no longer fit anywhere- not with the Gryffindors, who would surely be watching her with suspicion, and not with the Slytherins, who would surely see her as an outsider now, family name be damned.

She could feel Flo sitting beside her, still offering that quiet, gentle support, but even that felt distant now. Joa’s mind was swirling with too many thoughts, too many fears. She didn’t know how to handle this. 

‘What will Aunt Narcissa say?’ The question loomed in her mind, sending another wave of anxiety crashing over her. Aunt Narcissa had always been the most kind to her, but her loyalty to the Malfoy name, and the ideals it represented, was unquestionable. Joa had always been aware that she wasn’t quite one of them, but she had tried so hard to be worthy of their respect. And now… now she was a Gryffindor. 

‘The Malfoys don’t go to Gryffindor’, she thought bitterly, her heart sinking even further. ‘The Lestranges certainly don’t go to Gryffindor’.

And yet, here she was.

She glanced down the Gryffindor table again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the whispers would die down eventually as Flo said. But the looks they kept giving her, the curious, wary glances, told her otherwise. She wasn’t like them. She would never be like them.

Once the sorting was complete, capped off by a regal looking student whose name was something like Zablina, Zablim or Zabini, the headmaster, adorned in rather peculiar purple robes, rose to address the hall. 

“Welcome!” Dumbledore’s voice carried a warmth that spread throughout the hall, a stark contrast to the tension Joa felt simmering in her stomach. His eyes twinkled as he looked over the students, both new and returning, with a mixture of pride and gentle mischief. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have only two words for you before we begin the feast- Tuck in!” 

The simplicity of the headmaster’s words brought a wave of relief from the students, and then, suddenly, the empty tables transformed, filling with platters piled high with food. Joa blinked at the sudden appearance of so many dishes, feeling her mouth water despite the knot in her stomach. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was, and the comforting aroma of roast chicken and buttery potatoes reminded her of just how much she had been holding back all night.

A chorus of delighted laughter and chatter erupted around her as everyone began to serve themselves. Across the hall, she could see Draco already surrounded by Slytherins, lounging with a self-satisfied smirk that was so distinctly him. A pang of something she couldn’t quite name, jealousy maybe, ran through her, and she forced her eyes back to her own table, focusing instead on the food in front of her.

Flo was already piling mashed potatoes onto her plate and didn’t hesitate to turn and nudge Joa, offering her a spoonful. “Here! You’ve got to try these- they look delicious!”

Joa hesitated but nodded, managing a small smile. Flo’s eagerness was infectious, and it was strangely comforting to be next to someone who wasn’t judging her based on her family name. Joa reached out and took a spoonful, trying to let herself be swept up in the excitement around her.

Yet, even as she began to eat, the words she’d overheard earlier continued to echo in her mind. Each bite of food felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the whispers and glances that lingered around her. She could feel her housemates’ eyes on her, and though none of them said anything outright, the unease in their expressions was unmistakable. It was the same look she had seen in adults who had known her mother, the look that said they didn’t see her- they saw Bellatrix.

She glanced up, her eyes briefly meeting those of a red-haired, freckled boy a few people further down the table who was sat next to a bespectacled boy with an oddly shaped scar right in the middle of his forehead. The boy looked away quickly, but not before she caught a glimmer of suspicion in his gaze. She felt herself shrink under his look, wishing for the hundredth time that the Sorting Hat had sent her somewhere else- anywhere else.

Flo must have noticed her discomfort because she leaned closer, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about them,” she whispered, nudging her shoulder gently against Joa’s. “They’ll get used to you. They’re just…not used to anyone like you, that’s all.”

Joa forced a nod, trying to believe Flo’s attempt at comforting her. But even as she continued to eat, her appetite began to fade fast. The food was delicious, yet it felt tasteless, each mouthful more like sand than the last as she reached out for a small roll of bread. As she bit into the bland food, a glimmer of sweetness caught her eye. A golden jug filled with thick honey sat at the end of the table. Joa’s heart skipped. Honey had always been a particular delight of hers, though she could never explain why she craved it so much. She reached for the honey, its warm, floral scent filling her senses as she ladled a bit onto her bread, relishing the taste that brought a small, grounding joy. Flo caught her eye and smiled warmly, nudging her again.

“See, it’s not all bad. And you’re officially one of us now, Joa.”

The truth of that statement made Joa pause mid-bite. She looked down the Gryffindor table at the faces of her new housemates, each in various stages of laughter, conversation, or determinedly piling their plates. The energy was infectious, vibrant in a way she’d never felt back at Lestrange Manor. As much as her mind reeled from the Sorting Hat’s choice, she couldn’t deny the intrigue this new house stirred in her.

"Joa," Flo continued, her voice gentle as though reading her friend’s mind, "Gryffindor is good. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see."

Joa barely heard her, she was too busy with the honey. But Flo anyway kept talking beside her, pointing out various Gryffindors and explaining who was who from Joa’s year, but Joa could barely keep up with the names. She caught a few- Ronald Weasley, the red haired boy who looked suspiciously at her; a loud boy named Seamus who kept everyone laughing; a girl named Lavender who seemed to have a fascination with Flo’s pet kitten, Mittens. There were others too but Joa would learn their names later. 

Hopefully she would find a place here. As Flo said, it’s going to be fine. 

With that thought in her head, Joa’s spirits were lifted just slightly, but enough to make her give a small smile. After all, she was at Hogwarts. Who knows what is going to happen next? She’d dreamed of being here for so long. And as she drizzled some more honey onto some yoghourt, she felt just a little bit happier.