Beauty and the Beast of Malfoy Manor

Beauty

Chapter Two

Beauty

"Everyone knows her father is a lunatic. He was in here tonight raving."

-Beauty and the Beast, Disney's Beauty and the Beast

With her a stack of books and parchment in her arms, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley. The day was too pretty to be wasted indoors.

A few women by Madame Malkin's robe shop whispered and stared in her direction. One of their voices carried across the cobblestone street. "I know she's a war heroine, but you have to admit she is rather odd. Look at the state of her hair."

Another replied, "And she's always reading."

Hermione snorted. As if reading were so strange. Perhaps, if these women read more, they'd have something more interesting to discuss than her hair. Even still, she ran a self-conscious hand through her bushy mane. It had been a while since she had run out of her last bottle of Sleek-EZ's hair potion. Maybe, she should pick up another one.

She shook the thoughts from her mind. Absolutely not. She had much more important matters at hand. Besides, she should be used to this by now. Her part in the "golden trio" and at the Battle of Hogwarts had brought her lots of attention—good and bad.

She lowered her head back to her book. She didn't owe these ladies a knut.

Instead, she found a nice spot on the patio at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. She ordered a double scoop of strawberry ice cream with whipped cream and sprinkles. She didn't care if it was unhealthy. She needed some comfort food.

Mr. Fortescue, a grandfatherly man with a kind smile, took her order and asked if she'd read the paper today.

"No." She frowned. "I'm not in it, am I?"

He chuckled. "Nothing like that. But," he lowered his voice, "half of the inmates in Azkaban were killed in their cells last night. A curse of some sort."

Hermione was taken aback. "That would have to be very powerful dark magic."

"You bet. They hit the old pureblood homes too."

Her mind immediately went to the Burrow. "Not the Weasleys?" she said, her breath catching in her throat.

Mr. Fortescue put a gentle hand on her arm. "Not that sort of pureblood family. I'm sorry to have scared you." He returned with her ice cream. "On the house today," he added.

She accepted with gratitude and summoned a copy of The Daily Prophet.

NIGHT OF TERROR

Last night, while the wizarding world was asleep, a powerful enchantment swept through Britain. It appears to have been targeting supporters and alleged supporters of He Who Must Not Be Named.

Amongst the targeted properties were the Carrows, McNairs, Crabbes, Rookwoods, Lestranges, and Notts. Remarkably, each residence seems to have been destroyed in a unique way. The Carrows' home was reduced to rubble. The McNair's penthouse was engulfed in flame.

Perhaps most shocking of all, the curse was able to penetrate the walls of Azkaban itself. Death tolls are still being confirmed. "We was all sleeping," said an anonymous Azkaban guard. "There was this beautiful snow fallin' everywhere and then we was all just sleepin'. When we woke, they was dead. Nearly half of 'em."