Neville’s parents were… gone, in a way that felt harder to explain than death. They were still alive, technically. Breathing. Existing.

But whatever had made them them had been shattered.

The Cruciatus Curse had been used on them over and over, relentless, until something inside them simply… gave in. Snapped beyond repair.

And the one responsible?

Bellatrix Lëstrange.

A Death Eater. A monster.

Her name clung to Neville’s mind like a stain that wouldn’t wash out. No matter how hard he tried, it lingered.

He had seen her before. Only in photographs, but that had been enough.

He remembered the wild, tangled mass of black curls. The sharpness of her features.

But most of all, he remembered her eyes.

Dark. Unhinged.

Unforgettable.

And her name…

Her name was something he heard again now, drifting through the Hogwarts corridors in hushed voices and curious whispers.

Only this time, they weren’t talking about Bellatrix.

No.

This time, the name Lestrange was being directed at you.

Neville hadn’t seen you before. That alone was strange. A Slytherin, clearly, and older than him by a year, maybe two. He should have at least heard of you.

But he hadn’t.

Still, there was no mistaking it.

Your name gave it away.

Lestrange.

You were related to her.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, twisting something tight and uncomfortable inside him. He didn’t understand it, didn’t stop to question it.

He just moved.

His steps quickened into something just shy of a run as he made his way toward you, heart pounding louder with every step.

He stopped in front of you, breath slightly uneven, eyes searching your face as if trying to find something familiar, something hers.

“Are you related to Bellatrix?”

He asked, breathing in a slightly erratic way.

But when he looked into your eyes, he needed no further awsner.

The eyes staring back at him were the same as Lestrange's.