Summary: "You know, I don't think you understand what it is I do." "Oh, because marauding around the place wrecking havoc isn't what you do?" Sirius' smirk deepened. "I prefer to call it having fun, and I'm going to teach you." Eloise scoffed. "Teach me to have fun?" "No, teach you how to become a rebel."
Pairings: Eventual Sirius/OC, James/Lily, possible various Remus & Peter pairing(s)
Note: Anytime a break in the sentence comes within a sentence followed by italicized words is Eloise's thoughts. In the rare occurrence that the POV isn't hers, the same rule applies. For example take this line:
"Peter simply pulled out a small rubber ball and jacks—that's a Muggle game, what if he isn't a pure wizard either, maybe that's why they said no to him—and let her be."
I don't believe I'll do this extremely often, maybe three times tops in a chapter. I promise it won't be an abundance of times, like every other line, as that's over the top in my opinion. I just want to try and show Eloise in more than just description. I apologize if you don't like this way of writing.
Also, as a fair warning, this is sort of a trial run as sorts, just to test the waters for this story. At the moment, I am still trying to finalize outlines and make sure chapters line up properly, but I wanted to get an initial wave of feedback.
Thank you for reading! Feedback is much appreciated, but not required.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any part of the Harry Potter universe, no matter how much I wish I do. I only own Eloise and her family. I also know the last section parallels Harry's experience with the Mirror of Erised, but that was intentional. As far as I'm concerned, that will be the only parallel between the books and this story. Creating that scene in the last chapter establishes key elements in both the plot and Eloise's character, so doing that was instrumental. However, I am in no way the owner of the Mirror of Erised, or that plot point of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Prologue:
23 August 1981
Dear Sirius,
Isn't it strange to think of just how much everything has changed? I mean, consider it, only a few years ago I was an unsociable geek while you were at the top of your game.
So much has changed since then, hasn't it?
Even the others show a shift in themselves. Lily despised James, and now she's married to the bloke with a bouncing baby boy. Remus is so much more confident with others now. Even Peter seems more relaxed than he used to be.
We've grown up, Sirius. We're so different now.
I'm not sure I ever truly thanked you for it. I know you don't want to hear it, especially since it's "degrading to who I am," but I can honestly say I owe everything to you. You're the reason I have what I have now. I'm eternally grateful for it.
After everything we've been through, it's weird to go back and think about the old days, isn't it? But I know I wouldn't change a thing.
I hope everything is okay where you are. Dumbledore won't tell me where you've been sent, but I understand. Just promise me you'll try not to get hurt, alright? I couldn't stand it if something happened to you because of a mission.
Please come home soon, safe and sound. The weather's been nice and sunny as of late, but without you here, or the company of the Potters and the rest of the lot, it's hard to enjoy it. Sort of contradictory then, isn't it? Not to mention how off I've been feeling lately. Something big is going to happen; soon, I can feel it. I only pray I'm wrong.
I miss you. Please be careful.
Love,
Eloise.
1 September 1971
It was a cold day, colder than most expected on the first of September. The sky was overcast, sending a dark, dreary mood over the surrounding area.
A girl, eleven years of age, grasped the strap of her bag setting on her shoulder tightly. She made her way through a busy train station alone. Her frantic parents had dropped her off at the station's entrance only minutes prior. The tears she had shed still clung wetly to her cheeks; it had been an emotional goodbye.
She hurried along the platforms. Her destination should be growing closer, if the strange man who'd visited her home was correct. Then again, she doubted he was wrong; he seemed the type that knew what he was doing. After all, he was an older, graying man, and they usually are wiser than everyone else.
People shoved their way around her, nearly making her lose her trunk. She drew it closer, hoping that someone wouldn't accidentally knock the contents loose. The man had said the train wouldn't wait for her, and she rather didn't want to give it the opportunity to. Her small fingers toyed with the tag attached to the handle, and she peered down to read her mother's messy scribe
Eloise Margaret Braddock.
Braddock was a fine last name, if you asked Eloise. She particularly liked the way it sounded when someone spoke it—Brad-duck. Eloise wasn't much on selfishness, but she thought her name to be a good, proper name for someone to have. The man, who'd introduced himself as Dumbledore—quite a strange name, really, like a bumblebee—had a slightly different opinion on the matter, however. During his visit on a rainy May morning, he'd explained that Braddock wasn't exactly the most appealing of names where he came from. Where he, and apparently she, belonged. In his world, men and women bent magic to their will, all through waving around a stick and saying some funny sounding words. Dumbledore had this ability, and he claimed she did as well.
At first, she'd blinked a few times. She swallowed. Then she called him a loon.
She may have had some more peculiar encounters over the years, but did that really make her a witch? Could she really fly around on a broomstick, making dishes clean themselves or houses drop on people like her fairytales said? Eloise didn't think so. Yes, there was the time that her neighbor's hair turned green after he took her toy, or the time where her broken thumb healed over night, but a witch? It all seemed a bit far-fetched to her. Yet, apparently she contained the ability to shoot sparks out of a wooden stick just like him and his people.
Eloise hadn't believed him at first, and neither had her parents. The whole idea seemed implausible. But with a twinkle in his eye and a flaunt with the ashen stick in his hand— Eloise still couldn't get used to that, a wand, really—he had her convinced. The poor daises in the dinky pot on the windowsill, which had grown twice their normal size and danced in time to inaudible music, had been convinced as well. A few negotiations and a trip to a vibrant place called Diagon Alley led up to Eloise's current position, standing at the wall between platforms nine and ten, preparing herself to run straight into a wall to get to her train.
Somewhere nearby, a clock rang. It was almost time for the train to leave, and Eloise had only just found the platform Dumbledore told her about. The aging Headmaster had told her that the wall would seem just like any other, with fading bricks and people bustling around it ordinarily, but it definitely carried the ability to send her to where she needed to go. No matter how ludicrous the thought was, Eloise cast all the last minute doubts into the back of her mind, placed full trust in the strange man who visited her, and ran straight for the wall with her eyes shut tight. If the wall was a fluke at least she wouldn't watch herself billow into the column headfirst. Eloise kept running, hoping against hope that her bones would heal overnight like her thumb did all those years ago, and sailed on through without a hitch.
Perhaps Dumbledore wasn't a loon.
The crimson locomotor before her stood tall, almost as if it were filled with pride. Steam billowed out from underneath it, seeping throughout the quickly dispersing crowd. Eloise spared a minute just to admire where she was, what she was about to do, before she moved to get on to the train to start her next seven years. She weaved her way through groups of families making tearful goodbyes, heard the promises kids made to their parents—Yes, dad, I'll be fine—I'll write everyday, mum, I promise—I'll see you at Christmas—and compared them to her own promises to her parents. They hadn't been able to make it to this point because Dumbledore explained the risk of them entering the Wizarding World. Apparently some viewed families like hers negatively, and would mistreat so-called "Muggles." It wasn't an overly large problem, but Dumbledore didn't want to risk their safety, and neither did Eloise. Still, seeing the emotional families made a twinge of sadness come forward. They would have loved seeing this.
She wished the world wasn't so cruel.
A shudder fluttered over her as she stepped onto the train, spotting several pairs of friends chatting idly. This was it. It was really happening.
She fingered the wand in her pocket, feeling the unmistakable hum grow at her touch. It wasn't the fanciest, but it was perfect to her. A grin took over her face; she was a witch. A witch going to a school for people like her. The unfathomable really was fathomable.
Eloise decided on taking the first open compartment, not minding how it was devoid of students. Perhaps then she could get ahead on reading some of her chapters from the textbooks. A head start surely couldn't hurt, right? She only just opened her Charms book to the first spell, Wingardium Leviosa, when the compartment door slid open.
"Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
At the door stood a boy barely taller than her. His eyes were small and watery, and he fidgeted with his fingers so much that they tangled together. He eyed her wearily but not nervously, as if he had already faced more than one rejection. Eloise offered a smile, and he relaxed only just.
"Thanks," he said. He sat on the bench opposite her and extended a hand. "Tried a couple compartments before and they weren't exactly keen on having a First Year sit with them." The boy shrugged, lazily placing a small sack on the bench beside him, making it jingle softly. Probably spare change. "Anyway, who are you?"
"Eloise," she stated simply, startled at his change in demeanor. This boy became confident quickly, didn't he? She decided not to voice this, as people generally didn't like something like that said about them. Instead she continued with, "I'm sorry about the other compartments."
He waved a hand dismissively. "It's all right, not the first time. I suspect it's because I'm not very confident with others at first."
She couldn't imagine that.
"But, live and learn, I guess. Oh, I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Pettigrew."
Pettigrew? Such a peculiar name. Pet-ih-groo. Dumbledore and Pettigrew. Perhaps it was a wizard thing?
She did not know how to answer him, so she offered him another small smile and stayed quiet. Peter smiled back, but seemed to understand her unspoken message. Maybe it was the book in her lap, or an unknown uncomfortable look on her face, but Peter simply pulled out a small rubber ball and jacks—that's a Muggle game, what if he isn't a pure wizard either, maybe that's why they said no to him—and let her be. She sighed and got to reading.
The rest of the journey passed peacefully. Peter didn't seem to mind her quiet nature, and they made minimal conversation. Eloise discovered that he was an only child just like her, and he was a Half-Blood, meaning that he had at least some magical blood in his family before him. She told him about the local movie theater in her town, which had just began showings of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in the previous month. All in all, Peter seemed like a nice enough boy. She had just offered him some of the candy her mum had packed for her when he jumped out of his seat.
"Oh, we're almost there!"
Only then did she notice the train's decreasing speed. Following Peter's lead, she quickly donned the robe that was a bit too large for her and they made their way out into the hall of the train. Other students had begun to emerge as well, including a lanky boy from the compartment across from where she and Peter had sat. He was alone and kept his eyes cast on the ground, so Eloise made her way over to him. Absentmindedly, she noticed Peter doing the same. "Hello," she said gently, not wanting to startle him, "my name's Eloise Braddock. Are you a first year too?"
He startled despite Eloise's caution. This boy certainly was nervous, wasn't he? "Huh? Oh, yeah, hi. I'm Remus. Remus Lupin. I'm a first year, yeah."
Eloise offered her hand for him to shake, which he did. He seemed a lot quieter than Peter was at first, maybe he was just shy?
Before she could ponder on it, Peter decided to make his presence known. "I'm Peter Pettigrew! You're quite a tall bloke, aren't you Remus?"
Remus gave a tiny smirk. It seemed that Remus would be able to handle Peter well. "I guess so, I get it from my dad."
Just then, the train gave a tiny jolt and began to slow. Eloise felt her stomach drop. They had arrived to Hogwarts. Beside her, Peter grinned and Remus fidgeted with his fingers nervously. Eloise gave him a comforting smile, for she knew how he must feel to an extent. From how he carefully handled his schooling items to what condition his clothes were in, it was easy to see that Remus was in a similar situation that she was. They were both lucky to be here. Remus may not be Muggleborn like she, but the way his eyes shone with gratitude, anticipation, and slight nerves was something she could relate to. Perhaps Remus would be her first true friend.
Once the train came to a full stop, Eloise, Remus, and Peter stepped off onto a dark platform and grouped together. Students of all ages scattered around them, all seeming to know exactly where to go. Eloise glanced at Peter, figuring he was most likely to know what to do out of the three of them, and asked, "Where are we supposed to go?"
Peter looked terrified as he replied, "I have no idea. There sure are a lot of people here, aren't there?"
"Firs' years this way! Follow me please! Firs' years over here!"
Off to their right stood the biggest man Eloise had ever seen. Perhaps ten feet tall, the giant of a man's face was nearly fully covered with long, tangled hair and a wicked beard. She could barely make out his eyes, which glittered kindly at the three of them.
"Yeh three all right? Come on now, firs' years this way!"
Stupidly, Eloise followed, barely registering Remus and Peter behind her. The giant continued to call for other first years, and the trio trailed behind. As they walked down the platform, more and more students came until a large group had formed around them. Once it seemed like everyone was there, Hagrid trekked off towards a dark path on their right. The next few minutes passed quickly until Eloise finally saw a glimpse of Hogwarts.
It was quite easily the most magnificent thing she'd ever seen. Hogwarts sat at the top of a steep mountain, and its towers and bridges alone were big enough for hundreds of her house to fit into it. For a brief moment, she feared getting lost, but then a wave of anticipation rushed through her mind and settled deep into her bones.
Maybe being a witch isn't so bad after all.
As it turned out, the inside of the castle was even more magical. Eloise and her fellow classmates stood in front of the rest of Hogwarts, waiting to be sorted into their houses. Even with hundreds of eyes upon them, Eloise felt at ease. She could see how someone could fall in love with this place.
A Sarah Booker had just been sorted to Hufflepuff—such odd names this place had—when the woman who'd introduced herself as Professor McGonagall stood again.
"Black, Sirius."
The crowd went silent. An admittedly cute boy with shaggy black hair sauntered toward the old chair. He gave a wink to the crowd before him, right as the Hat was placed atop his head.
Bl-ack. So similar to her own name, and yet so different. He seemed different. She wasn't sure what to think of him.
Finally, the Hat decided and gave a mighty cry of, "Gryffindor!" Only to be met with a silence so packed, Eloise swore she heard individual hearts thumping in the chests of the students around her.
Sirius himself didn't seem to know what to do. He stood on legs that shook minutely, gave a wobbly yet confident grin towards the wide-eyed crowd before him, and quickly made his way to his new House to sit.
Murmurs made their way across the Hall. Most sounded just as shocked as Sirius looked at first, despite his confident voice and boisterous laughter.
"A Black in Gryffindor?"
"The Hat must be batty."
"What's wrong with this one?"
Eloise blinked. What's wrong with this one? What was wrong with him indeed? Sure, he seemed a little full of himself, but surely that didn't deserve the talk he was getting? Eloise leaned over to Peter to ask him just what was so outrageous about him being in Gryffindor, but he was gaping along with everyone else, so she turned to a messy haired boy on her other side.
"The Black family is big on the Dark Arts in the Wizarding World," he explained, pushing up his rectangular glasses. "The lot of them have always been in Slytherin." He glanced at her, saw her blank stare, and added, "Most bad wizards tend to come from Slytherin; kind of like a tradition or something. There's something different about this one, though." The boy himself was eyeing Sirius with a small grin, as if remembering a secret joke. He had his head cocked, hazel eyes alight with mirth, and Eloise swore she saw Sirius glance in their direction and relax a bit. This seemed to nullify the boy, as he gave a quick nod and faced her once again. "Can't be too bad if he ended up in Gryffindor, can he?"
"No," Eloise responded slowly. "I guess not."
The Sorting Hat had just sorted Bowie, Seamus into Ravenclaw when she heard old McGonagall call her name. Eloise took a deep breath and slid forward, guided by the encouraging, "Good luck!" she heard over her shoulder from the boy.
"Peculiar, so peculiar," the hat mumbled upon being placed on her head. So it spoke in her head as well? This world only increasingly became more peculiar. "Bright mind you've got, wouldn't do bad in Ravenclaw if I do say so myself, but no, that's not where you belong now is it?"
"I don't know," the girl whispered feverently. She didn't quite understand what was happening—the Hat was supposed to tell her where to go, wasn't it? Why was it asking her? If it were up to Eloise, she'd quickly pick whatever house would get her out of the limelight the quickest. She shifted. "Isn't this where you come in here?"
If possible, the Hat laughed. Eloise thought it strange, but then again if the Hat could speak telepathically, laughing probably wasn't as far-fetched as she thought. "Quite some spunk too," it continued pleasantly, "but where to put you?"
The chair grew uncomfortable. She'd been there a decent amount of time, and people were staring. She turned away.
Then she thought of her parents. They'd surely be proud to see this moment, whether they could understand what was happening or not. Eloise herself didn't fully understand. However, she knew they would want her to be brave, so that's what she did. She took a deep breath, relaxed, and lifted her eyes to the crowd with the bravest face she could muster, waiting for the hat to decide.
It quickly did. "Ah, I see now," said the Hat gleefully. "Gryffindor!"
The applause that followed was thunderous.
The next few months passed swiftly for Eloise. She settled into her classes nicely, and she could finally make her way around the school without getting lost (the portraits hanging about the place were absolutely no help, it's like they wanted to see her struggle). The first night she was Sorted into Gryffindor alongside Remus and Peter, and while she did not quite understand what made the House so special, the boys seemed pleased with it, so Eloise tried to be as well. She found that she rather liked it at Hogwarts, though it got rather lonely at times. Remus and Peter had stuck with her for the first few lessons, but slowly drew away to two boys she had seen at the Sorting; a brown haired boy with glasses and a contagious laugh and a cute boy with grey eyes and a wicked smirk. After a few days she learned their names were James and Sirius, and while her only two friends leaving saddened her, she could not help but smile at the natural chemistry between the foursome. Those boys would bring trouble, Eloise was sure of it.
One night, when winter was just beginning to fade from the Hogwarts grounds, Eloise found herself wandering the halls of the castle. It was after hours, and though she tended not to stray from Dumbledore's rules, (Filch, quite frankly, scared her and she admired McGonagall too much to anger her) it was a night where she simply could not turn her mind off. She kept her wand downcast, a hand over the light so as to not disturb the slumbering portraits. She crept along the path, humming a lullaby softly under her breath, when she came along an opened door.
Inside, Eloise spotted a glorious, looming mirror. Across the top, a fading inscription read "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi."
"Well, that's peculiar," she murmured. Feeling drawn, she moved closer only to jump back again.
"Mum?"
There, in the glass of the mirror, stood her mother. Her eyes crinkled kindly, giving Eloise a tender look. Astounded, Eloise placed her hand lightly on the glass just as her father meandered his way to her mother's side. Together they smiled at her and waved, but something was different about them. Their faces shone with something unfamiliar—they looked less troubled, healthier.
Just what was this mirror?
Before she could ponder on it for long, a voice arose. "Ah, I see you've found the Mirror of Erised."
Oh, no. Eloise felt her knees shake. Surely she'd have her first detention now, for none other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood behind her.
"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I got lost."
"No need to worry, young one," said Dumbledore. "I assume you have realized what this mirror does?"
Eloise peered more closely at the glass. This mirror certainly was different than most by showing something other than her reflection, but it did not seem to be the full truth. The people standing within the mirror were without fail her parents, but they also were not.
"It's like an alternate reality," she offered. "Something possible, a dream maybe?"
"Ah, not entirely untrue," said Dumbledore. "In truth, the Mirror of Erised shows our deepest desires, what our innermost self wants more than anything in the world."
Huh.
It became more obvious once Dumbledore laid it out for her. Her parents' faces shone. They were plumper, wore newer clothes, were carefree.
The years of poverty were no longer evident in their features.
Eloise smiled. For as long as she could remember, her parents had prioritized her over themselves. They were not the wealthiest of families; she saw just what affects certain things had on them. When she broke her leg at age six, the costs had set them back for weeks. To see her parents so happy and healthy filled her with warmth.
"I must warn you," Dumbledore continued, breaking her revere, "that it is easy to lose yourself in the Mirror's mirage. I strongly encourage you to forget what you saw here today. Desire may be hard to ignore, but it does no good to dwell on it endlessly. I hope you may experience Hogwarts to your content, Miss Braddock, and not for mending things that have already been done."
Part of Dumbledore's words resonated deep within Eloise. What's done is done, just what could she do to alleviate her family's past? Perhaps she should forget what she saw, move on quietly to her studies.
But the look in her parents' eyes. They were happy. There was nothing Eloise wanted more for them.
"Are you ready, Miss Braddock?"
Absolutely.