A/N: It has been more than 10 years since I have last posted on this account, which is pretty wild. I don't even dare to look at the story I wrote here (I felt loving cringe for my profile too!)

I felt the need to write something as a relief or warm-up before I do my academic writing. This story has been sitting around on my computer in different drafts for many years now, the oldest draft dating back to 2016. So, I've taken it upon myself to challenge the ideas that I have.

I do not own the characters and world that JK Rowling created. With this piece of fiction, I wish to perhaps extend and elaborate on certain points. Maybe, and only maybe, I can slowly take back the world that I once felt like home to me. The story is planned to be a SiriusxOC story but in the process of writing it can be a number of things.

So, without furthur ado, I'll see you at the end. :D

The child stomped into the room and punched a plushie before proceeding to sweep the table of its plastic plates. Eliza, startled, quickly walked over to the child holding a tantrum.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Eliza got down on her knees and stopped a plate from falling. The child had tears streaming down her face, a flushness to her cheeks as her little hands hit Eliza's chest. Her little fists grabbed the apron Eliza wore.

Eliza said nothing as the child hit her chest once more. It felt like nothing. At some point, the anger in the child ran out and she was left sniffling.

"What's wrong?" Eliza asked.

"Ms," the small child, Ari, looked down at her shoes. "They won't let me play with them."

They being the children of the kindergarden group. Eliza had observed something off from the window today, a small ring of children and one lone figure walking by. She wondered if the other caretakers had noticed it.

"Ari," Eliza began and looked Ari in the eye. "How does that make you feel?"

"Like it burns here," Ari sniffed and point a finger to her heart. "I want it to stop."

"You are sad, which also makes you angry because you don't know why they won't let you play, right?" Eliza presumed. It was the same game each time, every week. But children didn't know any better. She picked up the plushie Ari had punched, gently handing it back. "Being angry is okay but don't let it dictate what you do and do not ever hurt things. You could hurt yourself and other people."

Eliza wiped the tears off Ari's face. Ari clutched the plushie tighter. "Remember to say how you feel, okay? It feels better that way. We can't read your thoughts."

"That's not true, missus. You can," Ari said in a small voice. "I'm sorry I made a mess," Ari looked around in shame. It wasn't much. A few plastic plates, but none of them had food on them. Thank goodness they only ever do that when the kids came in.

"Let's pick up the plates together, shall we? And if the others are mean to you again, I'll have a good talking down to them."

Her job was to make sure that little Ari was okay. They cleaned the plastic plates from the floor and stacked them back neatly onto the table. Then, Eliza took Ari's hand, and they both walked outside to enjoy the last bits of the break time. The children were still playing ring around the Rosie.

"Do you want to join them today?"

Ari shook her head and buried her face in Eliza's leg.

"That's okay, deary. Do you want to slide?"

She would keep an eye on it, Eliza thought to herself. She would not tolerate bullying, much less if it was a one-day thing. Children were great, but they were also terrible at times.

Eliza Shafiq had lived in Surrey for 10 years now. Each morning, she'd grab a cup of coffee and croissant from the bakery around the corner before setting up in the kitchen of the kindergarten. When her shift was over, she'd do the shopping for her aunt Arabella and then head back home. The evening would be filled with the silent sound of the television or soft music that would be played by her radio as she read something or planned her weak. It was a quiet life; one she chose for herself after all the disappointments she experienced.

Many of her co-workers eyed the ring on the finger, but she never answered the questions about it. Eliza paid no mind to the gossip. It was only talk, after all.

"You alright, auntie?" Eliza settled the groceries on the table. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to make stroganoff or goulash, so I bought both."

Arabella shuffled into the room, eyeing her.

"It's like you could read my mind, young dear. I feel like eating stroganoff. You don't need to run after me all the time, you know that. I am perfectly fine."

Eliza scoffed and got to cooking while Arabella helped with the garnish. Eliza looked out from the kitchen. Every time she saw the cookie-cutter gardens and the extremely clean houses, a part of her wished that she could have it for herself. Maybe she would have had it, were it not for the tragedies of her time.

Listen to yourself, she scoffed. Blimey, you're only 33.

She stopped Arabella when something fell down. "It's alright, Arabella. I can do it."

Arabella shook her head. "You should get out there again," Arabella had followed Eliza's gaze. "It's been years, for goodness' sake. You should move on. You have a nice life, a rather comfortable career. I think you shouldn't have given it all up and ended up like me."

"Auntie!" Eliza felt scandalized. "You are not a waste of space! Just because..." she trailed on. Arabella gave her a look to tell her.

"You will regret it one day, Eliza," Arabella told her. "All the things you thought and wanted to say."

On her way out, she took a look at Privet Drive, where in house number 4 the son of her dead best friend lived. She didn't know how he was faring, but she knew he was alive and sometimes that was enough for her.

That was her life now. Work, a visit, and nothing more. It was the routine she adhered to each day for 10 years. Always the same walk, same bus, same cup of coffee, same salary.

After the tumultuous years that took a toll on her soul, it was the best gift she could have been given.

As she walked down the streets, an unsettling feeling overcame her. Like she was being watched. Eliza quickened the pace, holding a hand around the pepper spray and swiss army knife she had in her pockets. It has been years since she carried her wand around with her and often it was enough. There was next to no crime in Little Whinging. She shouldn't be worried.

Which was precisely why she was worried.

She was almost at her door as she put in her keys and turned around, she saw a pair of eyes lurking in the bushes. They were those of an animal, so her body relaxed a little bit. It could very much still be the neighbor's dog. It looked like Mr. Johnson's staffy.

But she didn't really believe her thoughts or observations. A part of her felt uneasy. In the middle of the night, she got up to get a drink only to see that the beady, cold grey eyes still stared at her.

Uneasiness crept up on her soul the longer she saw those eyes. She wasn't going to leave the house. Instead, she locked the doors and, in her room, casted an eye on the trunk at the foot of her bed. Her wand was there. It would be fine. The house had at least some protection. When she looked out of the window, the beady eyes were gone. Eliza relaxed. No need to worry.

The next morning, while she was at home cutting up bread when the radio playing softly in the background when the news sounded with an emergency broadcast.

We are here to report that a prisoner has broken out. The population is being warned that this man, Sirius Black, is highly dangerous. Should you see him -

The hairs on her neck stood up and she nicked part of her finger by a misstep of the knife. Ouch!

She dropped it, sucking the blood on her finger. She stared at the radio. This was not happening, was it not? Her fingers went numb.

It hit her. Those eyes she saw last night. They weren't just any animal. It couldn't have been

It had been him. She should have known those grey eyes.

It had been Sirius.

She would have thrown up right then and there, calling in sick suddenly. Something, anything to keep her distracted from her thoughts.

The drive looked as calm as it had ever been. The streets were damp from the rain last night and Eliza was ready to walk her normal route.

But perhaps the predictability of her route was not the way to go. This time, she hailed a cab to work. The chopping bought her no comfort knowing that every door creak could be someone she knew walking through the door.

"Any plans for the summer, Eliza?" one of the caretakers asked fondly. "You're looking a little bit peaky. You should head up to Brighton this summer. The sun will do you good."

She stopped.

"Yes, that's it. I'll head up to Yorkshire."

"Yorkshire? That's highly questionable but, alright."

As she stood outside of the kindergarten that afternoon, waving the children goodbye for the summer, little Ari ran up to her again, rubbing her face into Eliza's leg. She felt herself calm down as she patted Ari's back.

"What is it, Ari?"

"I'll miss you, Missus Eliza," Ari muttered. "I'll bring you a stone from Turkey."

"I think that's illegal, Ari."

"I-illegal?" Ari's eyes seemed to glisten with mischief. "Wots that?"

"Ariana," her mother scolded. "Don't pester Ms. Eliza. I'm sure she doesn't have time to listen about our travels."

"I'll always have time for them, Ma'am."

Ari went off to say goodbye to the other caretakers and her friends. They were being nice to her again, which lifted a weight of Eliza's shoulder.

"Do you have any?" Ari's mother asked. "Children I mean. You are good with them."

"I took care of a lot of children when I was young," it had started out for bad reasons. "I don't have any of my own."

"You're still young," Ari's mother noted. "You have time."

Eliza shrugged. She didn't really care for that now.

When the cars left, she looked around and, as hastily as she could, packed up her things in the Kindergarten and leftfor her house. She ran up to the house door and just as she was about to make it to the front door, she heard a crack behind her sound.

Someone was there.

Sh –

"You know, Ms. Shafiq, I was expecting a more fascinating arrival." All the tension melted from her body, and she slumped against the door frame. She was ready to pass out right then and there. The man in question, with his half-crescent book glasses, looked at her with humor. "Did your old hideout not have so many jinxes a curse breaker needed to come in?"

"Different times, Albus," she cleared her throat and opened the door. She had some manners. "Tea?"

Albus Dumbledore had not aged a single day, but it was hard when you were already ancient looking. The man must be at least a century old, a grand age for a wizard of his calibre.

"Gladly...you don't happen to have any lemon sherbets, do you? You always had a jar of them in your old place."

It did not escape her how Albus mentioned the old place twice.

"Take off your shoes while you're in the house, Albus," Eliza called out.

Thoughts raced through her mind, wondering how easy it must have been for him to find her. Unless… Arabella Figg told him. Which she wouldn't be surprised about.

Eliza went on to make a teapot of Albus' favorite tea, also lemon-flavored. She noted her old professor looking around the house. There was her muggle education diploma, a picture of her hand her father, along with a picture that she had taken in the summer of '79.

"Nothing is moving," he noted. "This is..." he pointed to a picture.

"My father and I," she finished his sentence.

"Fine man he was, Mr. Luna," Dumbledore nodded. "Never met a muggle so fascinated by wizardry. I see you're honoring him a lot."

"Mhmm," Eliza agreed, not wanting to get into it too much. Dumbledore had not visited her in person in the past 10years, only sent the occasional letter and, upon her move to Surrey, lectured her on how to keep an eye on Harry without keeping an eye on Harry.

"To what do I owe this visit, Albus?" she asked.

"I think you already know," he raised an eyebrow. "You've always been observant. I'm surprised you can't read minds."

"I am not harboring Black if that is what you're on about," Eliza frowned as she sat down across from him.

"I don't doubt that after the betrayal that you experience," Albus held his hands up. "But this is on the topic of Sirius. I think he'll come for you."

She thought of the dog outside of the house the night before and a shiver went down her spine. He was already here with a chance to kill her, but he didn't. He could have killed her right then and there.

Dumbledore stood up and went to the mantel over the fireplace. He picked up the picture of Eliza and her father. "Fudge thinks that he has gone mad in Azkerban. He will come after Harry, one way or another. And as you mayknow, you are standing between him and Harry. If he knows you are here, he will come for you first."

Eliza took a sharp breath. "He wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore tapped the picture and just like that, it came alive. The face of Eliza's father came to life as he spun Eliza around in the picture. Her heart clenched. The picture had been taken at the wedding of Lily and James. From the corner of the picture, a hand showed up. It showed Sirius catching her from the spin and the two of them nearly falling over. "Hmm, a freezing charm."

He tapped it again and it froze, this time in a different position. Eliza was mid-spin between her father and Sirius. She wished that Dumbledore would turn it back to its original state.

"I see that you're not carrying your wand with you. You didn't use magic for tea, though."

"I've had no use for it, Albus."

"Indeed, in a place like Surrey where only a Squib and the Boy who lived reside," Dumbledore sighed. "It seems you got the peace and quiet you wanted."

"For a high price," Eliza reminded him. "Albus, tell me. Do you know how he did it? How did he escape?"

"We don't know. Cornelius Fudge is in outrage. I was hoping you might know something I don't."

"I know as much as you, Albus," Eliza did not like thinking about Sirius. "I was as shocked as you are."

"You used live in the same apartment as him," Albus noted. "Did you really not know?"

Here we go again. "Any information about Sirius the ministry already got out of me years ago," Eliza said forcefully. "Where I was, if I knew, what I was eating that day – I don't know anything more. Please, we were all mistrustful of each other then. He mistrusted both Remus and me. You could give me the truth serum and I would tell you the same."

Albus took a sip of his tea. "And yet you still argued for a trial."

"Because people deserve JUSTICE, even if someone is guilty," Eliza let out in frustration. "I don't care what Barty Crouch was doing. Some Death Eaters got trials, but those are just the families with money. I'm sure that they would have allowed someone from the Black family a trial," she grumbled.

But Eliza had dropped the protests for a trial. Everything had crumbled in those days. She was left to deal with the funeral arrangements for Lily and James, bringing the Order of Merlin to Peter's mother, and running around looking for Remus who didn't speak to her anymore. By the time it was the third of November, she had nearly broken down and left the country to live with her father.

Dumbledore let out a small smile. "Good to see that you're still there."

"What?" Eliza blinked. She felt the tears that were on the verge of spilling over disappear in a blink.

"I needed to see where your loyalties lie. I apologise."

She leaned back in her chair, absolutely dejected.

"Albus, I did not leave the country and come back to keep an eye on Harry only to make a 180 for Black."

"Love can be a terrible motivator," Dumbledore said apologetically. "I fell in love once. He was not the person I loved in the end. Facing him was the hardest thing I had ever done. If anyone knows what it's like to love a dark wizard, it's me."

The information came as a shock to Eliza. The old man in love? She couldn't see it. She always just knew him as Professor Albus Dumbledore. But he had been young once, too.

"I have a proposal," Dumbledore made his voice louder.. "We have a vacancy at Hogwarts - our Muggle Studies teacher is doing a sabbatical this year and seeing as you have lived as a muggle for a long time, I think you are up for the job."

"Is the only criteria knowing things about muggles?" Eliza inquired.

"Yes, but you have lived among them, too. I see you work at the Kindergarten. Think of it as…" he gave it a moment of thought. "Teaching baby wizards."

Eliza laughed. She liked the thought of it and it was very much true. Teaching wizards about muggles was to start from the very basics and at times going against everything the ministry of magic had told them about the muggle world.

"Is there another reason why you want me at Hogwarts? It does not escape me that we find ourselves in, uh, state of emergency."

Albus nodded. "I would sleep a lot better knowing that you're safe at Hogwarts. A man who has been locked up in Azkaban for 12 years will cling to any reminisces of his old life, anything that can give him a small edge."

"And if I say no?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "Then, I'll find a different way."

If she said no, Dumbledore would still return. He only left people alone if it wasn't needed, but the old man came all the way from Hogwarts to visit her.

She thought about all of the paperwork that needed to be done while she was away, along with what she needed to do for her job.

"Give me ten days."

"I'll give you ten hours," Dumbledore stood up. "I'll tell Minerva - she'll love having you around again, perhaps you could also help Poppy out now that we have Dementors on the grounds." He sounded rather disapproving of the dementors. A shiver went down her spine. She hated those creatures.

"I'll deal with everything then," Eliza grimaced. At least that would give the Kindergarten the summer to find a replacement.

"If you need anything, just send me an owl – if you still do owls, of course." Dumbledore stood up and made his way to the door after finishing his tea. He at least had the decency to not apparate in the house. "And Eliza?"

"Yes, Albus?"

"Welcome home," he said solemnly.