The year-end had come for Hogwarts not a day or two after her revival, and all the children holed up in the Castle had run down to Hogsmeade to catch that ridiculous red train and a slow ride home. Trepidation and ire had filled her mind during the whole of the trip, and it was with angry thoughts and apprehension that she had wandered out of the carriage and off onto the platform with a photograph (a  mundane  photograph even!) clutched in one hand and a dark form of hatred seeping in through her veins. Mud picked her up (aware as they were of the fact that their  daughter  had suffered an accident that made her different from when they had left her), Mud dropped her off back at the small domicile that was closer to the servants quarters than the grand home Bellatrix had lived in during her youth, and then Mud had left to go one about their day.