What had I done to deserve such a life? I thought I had it all by being a wizard. I had grown up in a foster family ever since I was very little since my parents decided to abandon me. My foster parents were the most loving parents a girl could ever have. They accepted me for what I was when I had gotten my Hogwarts letter when I had turned eleven. As a family, we discovered the world of magic.

I had been ecstatic and nervous when going to Hogwarts. I'd be away from my foster parents for a long time with the exception of holidays. My luck seemed to take a rather nasty turn when I got into a Hogwarts House that was considered to be the worst of the four: Slytherin. That's mainly where all the Dark wizards and witches were bred.

I was nothing like the Slytherins in my House. I wasn't snarky; I was just a quiet girl who wanted nothing more than to get through one day at a time without getting into trouble. For the most part, I did.

There were a few Slytherins in my first year that I got along with, as well as a few from other Houses. But for the most part, a lot of people from all four Houses gave me the oddest looks, like I was some man-eating animal or something. Ever since my first year, I had no idea why they looked at me that way.

Not until recently did I finally understand why.

This year was my fifth at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Let me tell you, it's anything but fun. We'd gotten a new tyrant in this school, worse than my Head of House, Professor Snape. Dolores Umbridge, but most students called her the hag in pink, or some variation. She came to Hogwarts with an iron fist, and boy, was she waving it around.

But she had nothing to do with why students still looked at me oddly. After all, how many students could say that their parents were Death Eaters convicted of torturing Aurors to permanent insanity? Not many, except for me.

I found this out not too long ago, when news of a massive high-security prisoner breakout in Azkaban—the wizard prison—happened. Ten were busted out, one of them my mother. My foster parents were kept up-to-date in the Wizarding World despite being Muggles. When they saw the news in the Daily Prophet, they wrote to me, telling me it was time that I knew what they suspected to be the truth.

It made sense why others would look at me that way. I sadly resembled her too much that I was just a younger version of her, only I was still sane. She wasn't. Her name: Bellatrix Lestrange. I wasn't given her last name to ensure I never had a rough time at Hogwarts.

So much for that.

I had taken my foster parents' last name, Castile. For the first fifteen years of my life, to all I was known as Renée Castile, a shy Slytherin pure-blood. Now I knew people were labeling me as Renée Lestrange, daughter of an Azkaban prison escapee.

I shut myself off from everybody because nobody ever wanted to come across me, not even my friends. It was like I was some contagious disease.

One day, I had been walking by myself away from everybody else when I discovered a room that was my safe haven. It wouldn't appear for anybody unless they really needed it for something. I needed a safe haven, and that's what the room gave me.

It's where I was now, my safe room. Even though the room was commodious, I always sat in the same area of the room, accompanied by tissues, a few books, parchment, quill, schoolbag and my wand. This was pretty much my study hall room as well, since I knew I wouldn't be welcomed to be in the same study room with other students.

I blew away a curly strand of messy, dark hair away from my dark eyes. My hair was usually a curly, puffy mess, but I contained the unruly look in a thick ponytail. I was leaning against a small blockade of mirrors. It wasn't a particularly nice backrest, but it was better than resting on the hard floor my butt sat on.

I looked at the parchment I had on the book that sat on my lap. My quill quivered in my left hand. This was about the usual time where the waterworks would start and my work would get all messy because I reminded myself of what was going on. I had written to my parents, saying that I was getting a rough time because of the recent discovery.

You'd think that bullying would get taken care of, if the school truly cared about its students. This was not the case, not with Dumbledore gone and Umbridge as the new headmistress. My parents could only give me what advice they could, and truthfully, it wasn't helping.

I gave up on schoolwork and decided it was time to head back out. I couldn't miss my first class. I had skipped breakfast because I couldn't bear everyone giving me nasty looks. It was like people thought I had known about Bellatrix being my mother when I very well didn't.

I stuffed everything in my pack and stood up, taking a look at myself in the mirror. Ick, I did look like my mother. At least I had a nice complexion and I looked groomed. I didn't spend a life in Azkaban, though I bet many students wanted me to.

The room's doors opening made me look in the reflection of the mirror. I didn't turn around, whoever it was would recognize me in a heartbeat, if not confuse me with Bellatrix.

"Did you come here to trash talk me like everybody else?" I snarled.

"I didn't even know you were in here," said the voice.

Looking in the reflection, it was Neville Longbottom, a fifth year Gryffindor. I remembered being paired up with him in Potions for the past few years. "Nobody does, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." I turned to look at him, arms folded over my chest. "I'm surprised you're talking to me. Everybody's given me the cold shoulder, including you."

"My reason is a little bit different from everybody else. You don't know what she really did, do you?"

"I know that she was convicted of torturing Aurors into insanity, that's about it." I shrugged.

"Oh there's more to it than that—for me anyway." Neville crossed the room, standing a few feet from me. This was the closest anybody had ever been without running away a second later or shooting a bad remark or glare in my direction. "The Aurors she tortured were my parents."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Gosh, I bet Neville hated me the most out of everybody. I was the heir of a pure-blood, Lord Voldemort supporting maniac. "I—I didn't know," I whispered.

"Nobody really knows, except you. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Of course not," I said immediately. "The last thing I want is for you to be dragged into what I'm dealing with." I shook my hair. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I came here to be alone, like you," he mumbled.

"I can see that, but I bet you didn't come to cry your eyes out and be isolated from the angry mobs waiting to take a shot at you."

"How many times have you been in here?"

"A few ever since I found the room. It's the only place I know nobody will bother me. How do you know about this place?"

"I stumbled across it one day, like you. I thought I was the only one who knew this was here."

"I better go." I brushed past Neville but he grabbed my arm, stopping me. I looked at him.

"Hold on a second," he said. "You need someone to talk with; you might as well talk to me."

"That's not such a good idea," I said uneasily.

"Why?"

"If we become friends, people will notice, and like I said before, I don't want to drag you into this mess that I have to deal with," I huffed.

"Nobody will know if it's just in here. We've got time, Renée."

"It's nice to hear someone say my name," I sniffled. I blinked back tears. "I always get names thrown at me nowadays. And when that doesn't happen, I just assume people forget my name because nobody talks to me. Of course, how can they when they know my mother?"

"Not even your friends talk to you anymore?"

"No. Tara and Amelia don't anymore." Tara and Amelia were both in my year, two Slytherins who at times acted snotty, but around me they were perfectly fine. But now they walked by me as if I was just the wall. I thought that some Slytherins would like me because there were rumors that some students were descendants of Death Eaters. Yeah, not even they paid attention to me. "I've got nobody, Neville." I pulled my arm back from him to hug myself.

Right now, I was grateful that Neville was here. He could actually stand to be near me and talk to me. If he's willing to stick around, I better vent. It might help. It's better than the other options I've considered.

When I learned of my parentage, since people gave me such a hard time, I took a dark turn. I considered terrible things that nobody in their right mind would think about. The only reason why I hadn't done anything was because I was afraid of what my foster parents would think.

"I don't get why I'm the one getting s-s-such a h-hard time," I whimpered, my lower lip quivering already. I looked down at the floor, afraid to meet Neville's eyes. "I mean, I n-never k-knew about this until the Prophet released the s-s-story about the p-prisoners escaping." I rubbed my eyes that were becoming wet with tears. "Ev-everyone looks at me as if they t-t-think I knew I was her d-d-daughter." I hiccupped.

Neville rubbed one of my arms. I still couldn't look at him.

"I just feel so cut off from e-e-everybody. I just want t-things to go back to the w-w-way they were, b-before all this. I-I want to be able to t-talk to p-people without having to w-worry about them talking about m-me behind my back. I just w-want to finish sc-school and get out of here, so t-that I can be aw-away from all this."

"Well, if this makes you feel any better, I'm here if you need to talk," Neville whispered.

"R-really?" I sniffed. "How do I know you won't stab me in the b-back later on?"

"I don't want this to make you do something that you can't take back in the future, Renée. I would feel horrible, knowing that I could've helped you out, if you did something bad."

"You know...I'm glad you're here, Neville." I looked up at him. "It's nice to be able to vent to someone."

"I'm not going to be like them, I promise you. If you come talk to me in the halls, I won't run away. I won't care if they talk about you, because I've been bullied myself, and I know it's not fun."

"But you don't have a Death Eater for a mother."

"True, but for the first few years here, I could barely do any magic. Even though I wasn't bullied for the same reason you currently are, I know what it feels like...in a sense."

Though he was very cautious in doing so, Neville grabbed me into his arms. I burrowed my face in his chest; the only people I knew who would do this for me were my foster parents, not a fellow Hogwarts student. "You don't know how much this means to me, Neville," I sniffed.

"You need help, and that's what I'm here for."

I sniffled, trying to calm myself down. If I was going to head out of this room soon for my first class, I didn't want to look like I had been crying.

I was startled when careful lips pressed against mine. They were extremely light, barely lingering for long. I sniffled, flinching when fingers wiped away tears on my face. I fluttered my eyes open, gazing into Neville's accidentally. Had I been dreaming what just happened? There's no way that seriously just happened. That sort of thing happens to girls who have guys like them. I'm the most hated girl in all of Hogwarts.

When the door creaked open, I jumped out of Neville's arms, hastily grabbing my things. I was glad he didn't apologize for that kiss, because I sure wasn't sorry about it. Of course, it wasn't exactly the proper time to kiss a girl. I guess Neville thought it would help cheer me up.

If that was the case, I commended him on his efforts.

As I was heading out the door, Harry Potter was walking in. Geez, he knew about this room, too. Maybe it was time to find a better safe haven.

I didn't meet Harry's eye as I passed but I got the feeling his gaze was following me out the door. I hustled out of my safe haven, befuddled and sort of content about what just happened. What would Neville tell Harry? Harry was bound to ask for details. I wasn't sure what Neville would tell him, but I hoped it'd be something that didn't make my life worse. What could, really, at this point? I was the most hated girl at Hogwarts and I had a bad bloodline.

Neville was a small ray of light poking a hole through the dark cloud that hovered above me ever since the truth got leaked. He was willing to be my friend, no matter what others thought. Was Neville befriending me a sign that things to come would get better? I wondered now if things would be awkward between us after he kissed me.

If there was anyone in this school who would be able to bring me out of this horror story and bring me back to a normal school life, Neville would be the one.