Cut Scene #1, Madame Lestrange's Howler (Chapter 7)
Things were better after that. Delphi split her time between Hermione and the boys; she and Hermione spent at least an hour every day in the library, discussing spells and books and the quirks of the wizarding world, and Delphi, Ron, and Harry explored the school at Delphi's insistence, visited Hagrid, and sometimes even did homework together in the courtyard outside. After the incident during their flying lessons, though, Harry had less free time than before; McGonagall, rather than punishing him, had put him on the Gryffindor Quidditch team (and even ordered him a Nimbus Two Thousand, which made Draco turn positively green with envy), and practice took up three of his evenings every week.
Delphi's only complaint about this new status quo was that Hermione and the boys still didn't seem to like each other—not that Delphi didn't understand why. Hermione was a bit of a nag and definitely a know-it-all, and she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Ron, meanwhile, couldn't help rising to the slightest provocation and had a tendency to pick a fight. Neither much approved of Delphi's friendship with the other, but she didn't mind that. Even if her friends weren't all friends with each other, at least she now had a few to call her own.
And so, of course, she should have been expecting what happened next.
As September neared its end, Delphi still hadn't mustered up the courage to try taking a seat at the Gryffindor table. It was Snape's wrath that her wary, not Draco's or another other student's; he clearly hated Harry Potter, as he'd proven in both his first class and every one since, and since there wasn't a single other student in the school who could get away with sitting at the table of another House, she didn't think she'd have much luck trying to skirt the rules in order to eat her meals with the Boy Who Lived.
Draco, of course, had noticed that she'd made another friend in Gryffindor. He'd made more than a few snide remarks about her newfound friendship with Hermione. Somehow, he'd found out that the Grangers were a Muggle family—he might've even heard it from Hermione herself, considering she wasn't exactly keeping it secret—and he'd taken a few occasions already to let Delphi know just how disgusting he thought her friendship was. Delphi didn't care about that... but she might have if she'd realized that Draco was still writing about her to Narcissa.
The owl that swooped down to her on the fourth Monday of September came as a complete surprise. She didn't recognize it, and she took the letter from its beak rather warily. When she flipped over the envelope, her heart dropped out of her chest.
There was no return address in the corner. There rarely was with wizarding mail, as owls almost never failed to deliver anything. What there was, though, was a single line; a name; "Mme. Lestrange".
Delphi stared down in horror at her grandmother's letter. A few rows down the Slytherin table, someone laughed.
"You've got a Howler." Delphi didn't recognize the voice, and she didn't glance up to check its owner. Whoever he was, he was clearly amused; she, on the other hand, had never been more scared of anything in her life.
She had a Howler. How the fuck was she going to get out of this?
The letter began to smoke in Delphi's hands.
"You'd better just open it," someone said in a slightly kinder voice. "They explode if you don't, you know. And everyone'll hear what it says, anyway. Might as well get it over with."
With trembling fingers and a distinct paranoia that everyone in the Hall was watching her already, Delphi opened the envelope.
"UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BRAT, MAKING FRIENDS WITH MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS AND HARRY FUCKING POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU—"
Everyone really was looking now, from students of all Houses to the teachers at the high table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione—Draco and his friends—Pansy and the rest of the Slytherin girls—even Snape and Quirrell and Dumbledore himself—they were all staring at her, listening to her grandmother recount her shame. Madame Lestrange's voice was screaming so loud that the ceiling shook; it echoed off the stone walls, making the cutlery rattle upon the tables and drinks slosh inside of shaking goblets. Delphi would've given her wand to have an invisibility cloak.
"I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE ASHAMED IN MY LIFE, NOT SINCE MY OWN CHILDREN WENT TO AZKABAN, YOU'VE DISGRACED US ALL, THROWN EVERYTHING AWAY WITHIN A MONTH, THERE'LL BE HALF-BLOOD BRATS IN YOUR FUTURE, I'M SURE, LITTLE WEASLEYS AND POTTERS AND WHO KNOWS WHO ELSE'S, I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU TO LUCIUS AND NARCISSA, THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS AFRAID OF, YOU'RE EXACTLY THE DISGRACE I FEARED, I AM SORELY TEMPTED TO DISOWN YOU RIGHT NOW—AND IF I DON'T HEAR THAT YOU'VE COME TO YOUR SENSES SOON, I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET THE FACT THAT YOU WERE EVEN BORN."
Finally it was over, and the hall fell horribly silent as the letter burnt to a crisp. Delphi was shaking all over now, furious and humiliated and hating everything and everyone. Barely breathing, she grabbed her bookbag and rose from the table. She caught Draco's eye as she passed him—and was surprised to find that he wasn't gloating.
"Thanks a lot," she muttered to him, and she fled the room.
Footsteps chased her down. "Delphi!" Ron was calling her; he and Harry had followed her into the corridor.
"What?" Delphi snarled as she rounded on them, so furious that she forgot to be embarrassed about the boys' mention in her grandmother's tirade.
For once, he seemed to know better than to rise to the challenge. "Whose voice was that?" he asked.
"My grandmother's," said Delphi bitterly. Merlin, she hated that old bat.
"That was—"
"Delphi!" Hermione had followed them. "My god, are you okay?"
"Fine."
"That was horrible," Harry said quietly. He looked far more distressed that Ron did. "Does she always treat you like that?"
Delphi shook her head. "No. She saves that for, well, all the blood-traitors and, er, muggleborns that she mentioned. I guess now she thinks I qualify as the former."
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said hotly. "What kind of person tries to humiliate their own family like that?"
"Lestranges," said Ron darkly, and he seemed not to notice that this was an insult to Delphi, too.
"It's fine," she said gruffly, though she was trying to convince herself as much as them. "I'm fine. That's just how pureblood families are. She thinks I'm doing something wrong, and I don't agree, so..." She shrugged. "So she'll disown me, I guess. I suppose I didn't plan to be a Lestrange forever anyway, and not having to marry myself off to a pureblood does give me a lot more options..." She tried for a laugh, but something about the way Harry and Hermione were looking at her kept her from managing it.
Ron, though... Even if he was a Weasley, he was still a pureblood; he, at least, understood. "Well," he said, clapping her on the shoulder, "welcome to being a blood traitor. The club's not official enough to have buttons, but that means there's no dues, either. And hey, if you do wind up getting disowned, you're welcome at my place; Mum always wanted more daughters."
The idea of being adopted into Ron's family was as touching as it was horrifying... But it actually didn't seem so horrifying to her anymore. They had to be nicer than her grandmother, if nothing else.
"Thanks," she said softly. "That's really sweet. But I—"