Six-year-old Elizabeth Potter stared at the dark ceiling of her new room, tears trickling down her cheeks in silent streams.
It was very, very kind of Sirius to rescue her from the Dursleys after so much abuse, but for some reason every hope she had left in the world had just… vanished. Magic? It sounded like something from a fairytale. And Eliza didn't want to live in a fairytale. All she wanted was her mum and dad back, and she knew that wasn't possible.
If only that stormy Wednesday could've come sooner. Preferably when she was a toddler, but she knew she should just be grateful for what she already had. But, as she huddled up in the corners, she wondered what did she have? Her lightning-bolt scar, supposedly a mark of survival from the Avada Kedarva curse Voldyshorts-or-other cast upon her.
And her whole life changed, on that one pouring Wednesday.
"Girl!" Uncle Vernon's voice roared from the kitchen. Eliza Potter immediately sprang up from her bed, gasping at her fast, cat-like reflexes. Trudging to the kitchen, she braced herself for Uncle Vernon's blow to the head and his rough lecture on making bacon; maybe Dudley'd get to sexually abuse her somewhere in between the day, if he managed the time. He always did.
Uncle Vernon sneered at her from the table.
"Why don't you get dressed like a normal person, freak?" He asked, his blotchy face ugly in the sunlight. Eliza looked down. She was wearing her blue flannel pajamas- what was so wrong about that? Of course, everything she did was faulted in Uncle Vernon's opinion, so she held her tongue, tears swimming in her eyes.
"Cat got your tongue?" Uncle Vernon smirked. Eliza glared at him loathingly.
"Girl, I don't care for that look in your eye," He growled angrily. "Come here."
She didn't move.
"COME HERE!" Uncle Vernon roared. She edged away from him, and he twisted his lips into a painful smile.
"What would your mother and father say if they saw you now?"
"It hardly matters, anyway." Eliza replied carefully. Uncle Vernon squinted at her, confusion evident in his beady little eyes.
"What do you mean?" He asked, his tone suspicious.
"My mum and dad can see you, all the way from heaven. They see how you hate me, Uncle- they can see that you're a monster, that you're the evil one, they can see that you're the monster, Uncle Vernon, not ME- they can see you Uncle, they can see you!" Eliza screamed, and before Uncle Vernon could slap her she whirled around and darted out the door.
"Good riddance!" Uncle Vernon shouted, and slammed the door. Eliza stared at Number 4, Privet Drive, in shock. What just happened?
Apparently, she was now homeless.
Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic, everyone was going absolutely bonkers when the story hit them.
Fudge didn't mean for the story to leak out. But, thanks to all the commotion in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, it just so happens that Arthur Weasley went absolutely mad when he accidentally overheard (so HE claims) Fudge anxiously talking to one of his Aurors about the situation. They'd been keeping tabs on Eliza Potter for months, now, and hearing she'd ran away from home wasn't exactly swell.
Everyone was going crazy; positively mad; as they ran around like blustering idiots. The only hero to defeat Voldemort had ran away from her Muggle home, and what if he came back? Those were rumors Fudge had constantly try to dispel, and not with success. After a half hour of madness, Fudge had it. He went to the nearest Auror bunch he could find and send them out to get Eliza.
And unfortunately, Sirius Black was part of the group.
Yes, as soon as Sirius had chased after Peter Pettigrew on that faithful night, the Aurors put him under Veritaserum, as one possible exception for the odorless, colorless liquid, and he confessed that they switched each others' roles, so that Peter was Secret-Keeper instead of him.
But still, Eliza was with her legal guardians, and Fudge absolutely refused to let Sirius take her; at least until she went to Hogwarts. But it seemed that Sirius's luck had prevailed for once.
Fudge had never liked Sirius. He was reckless, and impulsive, but even Fudge had to admit he was quite a good Auror. Brought in at least 50 Death Eaters a month, and, despite his irresponsibility, he was a sort of comic relief, stress-breaker at the Ministry. After a long and tiresome day, he'd crack a few jokes and invite everyone for some Butterbeer at his house.
When Fudge brought the issue up, Sirius immediately began to shout angrily.
"They'd done something to her- something horrible- that's why she ran away from her; THE FILTHY MUGGLES ABUSED HER!" He roared, and Fudge winced slightly.
"Calm down, Sirius!" He said. Sirius glared at him with utter loathing, and Fudge flinched as the steady, angry gaze of Sirius's steely gray eyes fell upon his face. The man was intimidating, to be honest. Charming, most of the time, but unnerving just as well.
"You're telling me to calm down when three horrid Muggles were abusing my goddaughter?" He said in a deadly soft voice. Fudge sighed and said nothing. Sirius began shouting orders to his fellow Aurors, and they set out for Little Whinging.
Hey, guys! Hope you like this first chapter as much as me; I think that the plotline's pretty good, but it's still a little rough.
So, basically, the night that Lily and James died, Sirius cornered Peter in a street full of Muggles, right? Well, after Peter screamed that Sirius had betrayed Lily and James and disappeared, the Aurors came, right? They put him under the strongest truth serum they had, and they found out the truth. Now they're desperately searching for Pettigrew. Oh, and Sirius became an Auror straight after. Hope that explains things!
I hope you guys can find the time to review, and with that-
-Sarcastic Clapping, A.K.A. Queen Awesome of Epic Proportions, A.K.A. Lyricalyrics A.K.A. Potterhead Enthusiast, A.K.A. Proud RavenPuff (Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, study on your Potterhead facts, people!), A.K.A. Mayor of Wackspurts and Head Chief of S.P.E.W., A.K.A. pure brilliance reincarnated into one divine form, A.K.A. President of the Sirius Black Fan Club, A.K.A. The girl with a thousand names but usually known as the way someone puts their hands together repeatedly in a snarky way