Bathilda Bagshot
Quiet of the early morning hung on the still sleepy town. Snow tucked the little cottage houses in as blankets did their residents. Sunlight slipped into the sky of the early nautical dawn. Stars blinked within the darkness, slowly carrying off.
CRACK.
A violent purple, triple decker bus flashed into the sleepy village, right beside the church. Two benches leapt from their spots on the curb to avoid being hit. The conductor, a young man with a pimply face, stepped off as the doors opened. He did not offer a hand to the first gentleman, who looked more noble than ever with his lustrous dark hair perfectly together and in the long, black noblemen's jacket he wore. Sirius Black glared across the graveyard, as though expecting unwanted company.
The conductor didn't extend his hand to the second gentleman either. His face was covered with recently closed cuts. He wore a worn tan hooded jacket. In the fraction of space between his gloves and jacket sleeve, there were more just closed cuts. There were heavy bags beneath his kind, wrinkled eyes. Remus Lupin scanned down the narrow road, but seemed satisfied.
Remus nodded to Sirius then the bus. The conductor reached to extend his hand, but the other two gentlemen were quicker. They offered their hands to a teenage girl that laughed.
"I can get off the Knight Bus," she said as she hopped down the last step. "Honestly, dads," and she stuck her tongue out at them. Her wild, jet black hair seemed unchanged by her leap. She tightened her gold and crimson scarf, then tucked her hands into her black jacket. Siria Potter-Black stood beside Sirius and looked back to the bus.
An older woman stepped off. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head. The scarred gentleman offered her a hand, which she took. He looked away and let go the moment both of her feet were on the ground. Tonks glanced to Siria, who jerked her head away and pretended to have not seen.
"See you, Stan," Siria said. She locked arms with Sirius and beamed up at him.
"Hope the paper writes nicer stuff 'bout you, Siria," Stan said as he stepped onto the bus. "See you later." Sirius shook his head and led the party into the graveyard.
Siria rubbed beneath her eye, careful not to smudge the basil green eyeliner around them. She combed her fingers through her bangs, which tangled themselves right back. Siria scratched at her right arm. It prinkled, like the scar on her forehead, but for different reasons. Her stomach got tighter with each step.
"It's fine," Sirius assured her. "They love you," he patted her arm. Siria sighed and glanced around the graveyard. Many of the graves had been cleaned off before last night's snow.
"I should've worn flats," Siria said, "what if they think I'm too tall?"
"You're the perfect height," Sirius smiled.
"I should've worn the dress after all," Siria said, "Chloe did my makeup for the dress, but I changed and—"
"Siria," Sirius said and stopped. "We're here."
Her knees trembled into each other. She tightened her grip on Sirius's arm. Siria glanced around. Tonks had stopped two rows away, but Remus was right beside her. He placed an arm around Siria's shoulder. The white marble stone called to her.
"James Potter" and "Lily Potter" with their birth and death dates were engraved into the almost shining white marble. At the bottom, the stone read "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." [B7, 328] Their birth and death dates kept repeating in her head.
"They were only twenty-one," Siria said. Her voice was so quiet, even she didn't hear it. Six years older than her.
"We wanted to take you over summer," Sirius said. "We wanted to take you before then, even."
"It just never felt like a good time," Remus confessed. "We couldn't very well take you out of school for when we visit."
"When do you visit?" Siria asked.
"On the anniversary," said Sirius. "Lily used to love Halloween, you know, so we make them a jack-o-lantern. Once you're out of school, we'll come together." He pulled her closer. "Last year there were at least twenty, and more seem to get carved every year."
"What if…" Siria blinked. She squeezed her eyes shut. "What happens when I die younger than they did?" Sirius and Remus glanced over her head, at each other, then to her.
"You won't," said Sirius.
"Siria, why would you think that?" Remus asked. She scoffed and shook her head.
"I'm basically a Horcrux and I have to die, so someone else can beat Voldemort—" she started.
"We're working on that," said Remus.
"We'll find another way," Sirius said. "You'll outlive us all," he squeezed her arm.
"But if I don't—"
"You will!" Sirius said. They stood, huddled in silence, before the grave.
"Did you want to go back?" Remus asked Siria after a few minutes. "We can always come back. Godric's Hollow will be here." Siria shook her head.
"What do you want to do?" Sirius asked.
"Can I see it? The house?" Siria asked. Sirius nodded. Tonks trailed behind a few paces as they walked to the Potter's old house.
It was easy to spot. The hedges were overgrown and wild from their fourteen years without care. Snow blanketed the cottage and its ivy. While the cottage itself was mostly intact, part of the top floor was blown apart. Even though the ivy that had grown over it, it was easy to see. The spot plucked at Siria's heart. That was where Voldemort's Killing Curse failed. [B7, 332]
"When you're ready," Sirius said, "touch the gate." Siria could see no point in delaying it. She grabbed onto the thickly rusted gate (B7, 332). A sign rose from the ground, like a strange rapidly grown flower, it pushed through the weeds. Golden letters were carved into the sign.
"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 2001, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Siria, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family (B7, 332-333)."
Various people had carved their initials into the sign, or else written their names in Everlasting Ink. A few wrote small messages like "Long live Siria Potter" or small thanks yous. Beneath years of graffiti, Siria could make her mother's name out of a message. Siria let go of the gate to hold the sign. There were bits of messages to James or Lily. Mostly apologizes.
"Should we go meet them?" Siria asked Sirius and Remus, "Their friend?" She released the sign to link her arm through Sirius's. He nodded. "Tonks," Siria called over her shoulder as they walked along, "you can walk with us."
"I's fine, 'Ria, family matters and all," said Tonks.
"But you're taking part of your Holiday to help look after me," Siria said. Though she didn't feel like she needed one chaperone, let alone three, it was because of Tonks they were able to visit Godric's Hollow today.
After several houses, Sirius turned them to a gate. The wrought iron made an elaborate "B". Even in winter, the garden was beautiful. Pale, lavender and white violas were scattered through the edges of the garden. Patel yellow english primroses were clustered between other plants, which were bare in the snow. Just left of the garden path, a swing was hung on an old apple tree.
"James hung that swing," Remus told Siria. He smiled at it. "You loved it. Lily put you in her lap and you knew it was coming, so you'd start laughing."
"If we were lucky, Lily would jump off and you'd go wild," said Sirius. "She'd almost fly, for moment and land softer than if she stepped off." He paused and smiled at the swing like an old friend.
"I used to love jumping off swings," Siria said. "I suppose that's why Snuffles got so excited when I did."
"It was like watching Lily."
The wooden door of the cottage opened. A small, thin woman, hunched over and covered in layers stood in the doorway. She beaconed them with her gloved fingers. Sirius led the way and Tonks followed at their rear.
Stacks of books and magazines cluttered the cottage. A narrow path between the mountains of words twisted and turned to the living room. The woman hung her coat over a fuzzy armchair and sat down. Sirius and Remus sat with Siria between them on a fluffy blue sofa and Tonks took another fuzzy armchair.
"Bathilda Bagshot," Sirius gestured to the old woman. Her cheeks were maps made of wrinkles that filled when she smiled. Bathilda Bagshot's eyes were glazed with cataract, but found Siria at once.
"Sirius," she said. Her voice was hoarse and quiet as though not often used. "I know Lily Potter." Bathilda stuck her arms out and waved with her fingers. "Lily, dear, what has that fool of a husband done to your hair?"
Siria glanced to Sirius, then the outstretched fingers. Sirius patted her on the back. She bit back a groan and rose up. The woman's hands found Siria's face. They trailed over Siria's cheeks, around her eyes, and brought her close.
"What new injustices have you seen?" Bathilda chuckled. "The yellow of your eyes is especially bright today, though it may just be mine growing old."
"You're not that old," Siria said. Bathilda laughed. She smoothed Siria's cheek beneath her thumb then let go. Siria eased back into her spot, between Sirius and Remus.
"Lily, dear, you know," Bathilda said, "I found the letters we talked about last week. Don't judge them too harshly. They were still boys." Bathilda felt around the stand beside her chair until she found her wand.
A worn, brown pocket file folder zoomed into the room. Siria eyed Sirius before she accepted it. Bathilda smiled. "It was such a shame," Bathilda said, "he was so handsome… he just made all the wrong choices."
Back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, in the depths of her trunk, Siria rocked in a hammock with Bathilda Bagshot's pocket file folder. Two young men, just older than Siria, stood beside each other. One looked sheepishly to the other, who smirked at Siria. He had a smug look, not unlike Malfoy, though Siria supposed they both were proud. Their postures were tall, like Sirius.
Siria put the photo down. She rummaged through the letters on her stomach for the one that troubled her… well, the one that troubled her most. Seventeen-year-old Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. The sweeter letters were private and, as Bathilda thought Siria was Lily, made Siria feel like Rita Skeeter. This one though…
"Gellert," young Dumbledore wrote the name with such care. The way he curved the "G" with such attention in a late night writing, showed care. Siria scanned the letter again "...power gives us the right to rule," Dumbledore told Grindelwald. "We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD," Siria put the letter against her chest and stared up at the ceiling. [B7, 357]
Obviously, Dumbledore had a change of heart, Siria thought. She draped her arm over her eyes and squeezed them closed. Rather than the letters on the greatness of magic, Siria prefered the ones she knew she shouldn't read, even if they hurt. They reminded her of the letters she wrote Lily Moon, but didn't have childish, juvenile language about appearance. "I must confess the fire in your eyes devours my breath and I find myself longing for your warmth in the short hours we are apart," Siria blushed at the letter. She folded it up as footsteps echoed into the trunk.
"What are you doing still cooped up in here?" Hermione asked with a playful air. She tugged on the hammock, so it swung. Siria shifted to make room then helped Hermione in. "Who did you go see?"
"My parents…" Siria said. "And my mum's friend."
"Did she give you these?" Hermione asked and picked up the photograph. She cuddled up to Siria's side.
"She thinks she gave them to Lily," Siria smiled at Hermione. "She asked what new injustices I'd seen and told me to stop letting James play with my hair." Siria sighed a small laugh. "I can't tell if her memory is great or terrible. She remembered to give me a crumpet recipe that Lily asked for, then remembered Lily and James died, that I was Siria 'all grown up,' and brought me a photo of my mother and I then called me Lily again."
"I'm sorry, Siria."
"It's fine. Mostly I'm sorry I couldn't help. Sirius says it happens sometimes, but is more common in Muggles," Siria shrugged. "St. Mungo's apparently doesn't have a cure right now."
"Oh my," Hermione smiled and picked up the photo. "Your mum's friend is sending her handsome boys?" She gave a weak giggle. "They're probably much—" she paused as she read the back of the photo. "Siria, who did you say you saw?"
"Bathilda."
"Bagshot?"
"Yeah," Siria nodded. Hermione sat up in the hammock, which rocked it. Siria sat up to help Hermione stay steady.
"Siria Potter-Black, you saw A History of Magic's Bathilda Bagshot and only just told me?" Hermione asked. "Can you write her— oh," Hermione sighed and looked at the front of the photograph. "I suppose she wouldn't be able to remember, but… do you suppose you could write her, for me?"
"For you, I'd write anyone," Siria smiled. Hermione smacked her hand to Siria's face. Siria laughed.
"You're a shameless flirt, I hope you know."
"You should read these letters, then," Siria said as she pulled Hermione's hand from her face. "Some of them make my poems look like a joke."
"You said your poems are a joke yourself," Hermione shook her head. She picked up a few of the letters to scan over them. Her cheeks flushed with red. "I see. Well, they've certainly gone above 'cute at mutton'. You know, I imagine Professor Dumbledore would like these back."
"When he mans up and looks me in the eye, I'll consider," Siria stuck her tongue out. "I'll write Bathilda, whatever you want."
"I want the moon," Hermione sighed, dismissive, but a smile peeked from the corner of her mouth.
