Updated: Sunday 19 June 2005
Disclaimer: Not mine…
Chapter Ninety: New BeginningsThey found Estella high up in the branches of a tree that was located in the small park across the road from the house. She had come home without a fight, retreating directly to her bedroom without giving so much as a withering look in their direction. Three days had passed without a word from the sullen child, and her caretakers were growing impatient. The days grew long and weary as the object of their hearts withdrew into herself, picking at her food with disinterest as she sat with them at meal times, stubbornly refusing to even look at them; before either going back to her room or reading a book in the study, or working at replacing the destroyed potions ingredients downstairs.
At the end of the first day, Severus had left for Hogwarts, not intent on returning. For all intensive purposes he had outstayed his welcome, and with he and Sirius no longer able to even feign congeniality when in the same room together, it wasn't doing Estella any good for them to be thrown together in close quarters. When nothing else the remaining two men did seemed to have effect, they had no choice but to turn to Severus for help.
"She's still not talking, Severus." Remus, the nominated spokesperson for the last two recognised marauders addressed the man in the fireplace. "We've tried everything."
"You're trying too hard." Severus scowled. "Not everything can be resolved with meddling intervention."
"Who died and made you an expert?" Sirius spat from where he sat gripping the arms of his armchair reflexively, as though he'd rather be doing it around a certain potions master's neck.
Ignoring the frustrated, tired, helpless looking father, Severus returned his attentions to an equally weary looking werewolf. The full moon had been the night previously, and without the assistance of Wolfsbane, Sirius had had to do the wrenching task of chaining the man in the reinforced room that adjoined the potions area of the basement. It hadn't been a good night for anyone in the London house that night. Remus had emerged that morning bruised and bloodied from where he'd torn his manacles from the wall and attacked himself when the door wouldn't budge. Sirius had sat up all night by his daughter's bedside after the child had woken up screaming; evidently anxious about the risks the night bore. It broke the animagus' heart when the distraught child would not let him comfort her, choosing instead to push him aside and turn away. Not only did he feel guilty for destroying Remus' potion and causing the werewolf to hurt his friend so much, but his child was confused and hurting, and he was helpless to do anything about it.
"You look like death, Lupin." Severus appraised the man, a lingering feeling of remorse evident in his gruff tone as he regretted what Estella had to witness – both that day and in seeing her Godfather look so battered as a indirect result.
"We all had a rough night." Remus said, looking back at Sirius before recounting what happened with Estella. "It can't be good for her, keeping everything bottled up. It's not like her."
"Just ignore it, Lupin." Severus said knowingly. "She's after attention."
"How is that going to help?" Sirius frowned. "This happened because we weren't being attentive of her needs!"
"You've got a lot to learn, Black." Severus shook his head impatiently. Though it hardly made him a understanding man, he'd had many years experience dealing with teenagers. "I don't know what else to tell you. You'll either take my advice or not, I'm not going to try and convince you."
With that, Severus vaporised from the fireplace, leaving the two marauders alone in the room. Glancing at each other contemplatively, Remus spoke first.
"I think it will work."
Before Sirius could say anything however, Estella skulked purposefully into the room, a steaming goblet full of an unidentifiable potion in her hand. She headed directly over to the ragged looking Remus and held it out.
"What's this?" Remus asked, trying to entice the child into talking; all the while smiling at her lightly. "Not trying to poison your old Godfather now are you? I didn't think my cooking was that bad!"
In response, Estella gave her godfather an unreadable look and set the potion down on the coffee table closest to him; making to leave as soon as she had done so.
Impulsively, Remus grabbed her wrist weakly as she withdrew the hand from the goblet she had been holding, the action forcibly holding her in place so he could address her face to face. "Thank you." He said, letting go of her wrist when she gave an imperceptible nod of acknowledgement, her expressive eyes meeting his fleetingly before turning away.
Encouraged by his friend's breakthrough, Sirius shot out his arm to tug at his daughter's sleeve as she brushed past his chair; but the child yanked her sleeve out of his grip and walked away, the repeated apology on Sirius' lips rolling back down the man's throat, seemingly choking him with the lump it formed there.
"We're not getting off to a very good start, are we?" Remus shook his head sadly.
"She's as stubborn as her mother." Sirius stated helplessly.
"Only her mother?" Remus raised a brow at his stubborn friend.
With lack of anything else to try, the two men implemented Severus' suggestion over lunch, carrying on a colourful conversation about what potions were good for pranks as though nothing were wrong and Estella wasn't even there. Both men were equally anxious about the gamble they were taking, equally worried that their feigned ignorance would only quantify the demons Estella was festering in her mind and serve to push her over the edge; but when they caught the child looking at them intently, seeming as though she wanted to contribute, they knew they were challenging her resolve.
Using a love-fuelled resolve of their own, the two men resisted the urge to acknowledge the child then by inviting her into the conversation for fear of sending her spiralling back into herself in defiance. Stealing furtive glances at the silent child, the two men could see Estella's resolve slowly crumble as she battled with herself, the apparent uselessness of the silent treatment rendering the protest redundant. When she took herself off to bed that night without so much as a sound, however, Sirius was at his wits end. Tomorrow his baby would have to go back to Hogwarts and he couldn't stand the thought of things still being unresolved between them at that time. It had eaten him up inside to actively ignore his child like that. Though he could grudgingly see the merit in the technique Severus had suggested, he no longer had the time to wait for his daughter's resilience to run its course.
Leaving Remus to his book in the study, Sirius stole up the stairs and crept into his daughter's room only moments after the child had switched her lights off and tucked herself in. Sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing a stray bit of hair from his daughter's face as her head peeked out from under the blankets tellingly, the child desperately trying to feign sleep; Sirius made himself comfortable.
"I know you're not asleep." He said gently, repeating his earlier action.
Exhaling sharply, Estella moved to turn away from him without opening her eyes. Sirius let her, but then took it upon himself to kick off his shoes and lie atop the blankets on the girl's bed, spooning himself against her, trapping her in his arms and her bedclothes as she tensed and tried to roll away. Inhaling the soothing lavender scent of her shampoo while he brushed her hair away from her ear with his hand, Sirius rested his cheek on the side of his daughter's head and spoke directly into her ear.
"Relax, sweetheart." He cooed, willing the child in his arms to relax. "I'm not going anywhere."
Estella stopped pulling away from him to listen, her efforts to get away proving futile. Sirius had incidentally watched an episode of the Muggle talk show earlier that day which featured a Muggle parenting specialist who was informing the viewers of a 'holding technique'; and with having tried everything else, he thought he'd give it a go.
"You don't have to say anything, or look at me." Sirius said accommodatingly. "Just listen."
The child let out a sigh of defeat and stilled in his arms.
"I know it hurts you to see your Uncle and I fight like so…" Sirius admitted regretfully, cringing when the child in his arms stiffened. "There's no excuse for what happened, I see that now… but we're talking nearly thirty years of bad blood here; and it's hard not to fall into the familiar habit."
He studied his words carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
"I want to give you the world, Estella. Please believe that." Sirius confessed brokenly. "I'm so sorry that I can't give you the one thing you need. We tried baby, we both tried so hard to get along for you; but it wasn't enough."
He choked back a sob.
"Your mother… oh Merlin your mother, she so desperately hoped that her love for us both would bring an end to our animosity…" Sirius' voice trailed off as he sucked in a pained breath. "I've let her down. Let you both down…"
Estella sighed slightly and shifted so that she was settled a little more snugly against her father as though to comfort him. Sirius tightened his hold on her in response.
"I can't speak for your Uncle, but I know I wanted things to work. I think he did too." Sirius said, admitting the last part as a afterthought. "I was hopeful that your love for us and our love for you would encourage us to cast our differences aside for your sake and be grown ups… but it's only served to open new wounds."
There was a pregnant pause as Sirius paid mind to how best to phrase his next comment.
"We're threatened by each other. Every time you pay him mind I feel like I am losing you to him… and I've seen how he tries to protect himself against it happening to him. I've no doubt he fears me too." Sirius took in a ragged breath. "We're so wrapped up in our spite and our hate for each other, we don't think of what it does to you."
Estella sniffed softly, and Sirius became aware of the fact that his daughter was crying. Kissing her head softly and squeezing her gently, he tried to pacify her pain, silent tears of his own creating a salty sheen in her hair.
"I'm a stupid man, Estella, I'm the first to admit it." Sirius said regretfully as his breath cooled the tears on the child's cheeks, causing her to shiver slightly. "Sev and I are more alike than either of us care to admit. I regret for your sake that he and I will probably never make amends… but at the same time I don't want to pretend and fill you with false hope."
Beside him, Estella let out a shaky breath.
"No matter our differences, however." Sirius vowed. "I will never let you witness anything like that again. I promise I will walk away before I let him provoke me like that, just like he had tried to do that day."
There was a uncomfortable silence while Sirius waited with bated breath to see if his daughter would say anything. She didn't.
"Please Estella, I don't know what else to do." Sirius sighed into her hair, muffling a sob of frustration. "Please talk to me! I couldn't bear to send you away to school with this between us; I want things to be right between us… I want to know that you're going to be all right."
"I don't want to go back." Estella's quiet voice, hoarse from disuse, sobbed quietly, her resolve shattered. "I can't do it."
The child turned in his arms and clung to him desperately, burying her head in his chest, her tears soaking his robes.
"Oh, Missy." Sirius managed, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."
It became increasingly apparent that Estella's averse behaviour over the past few days was not just a catalyst to the scene she had witnessed between two people she loved very deeply, but rather it had been a reclusion that had been building ever since her return; and they had missed all the signs.
"Please don't make me go back there." Estella pleaded desperately, her voice muffled in his robes.
"Oh sweetheart, as much as I would love to keep you all to myself, you have to go back to school. Don't you want to see Harry again and your friends?" Sirius rubbed the child's back soothingly, trying to encourage the child.
"I can't do it." Estella sobbed despondently. "I can't pretend."
"Pretend what?" Sirius asked, coaxing the child to get it all out of her system.
"To hate. To pretend like the past five months never happened. To deny that I care about my Uncle. To act like you're a criminal. To go on as though I didn't just have everything and everyone I came to know in the past taken away."
"Oh, baby." Sirius held his daughter protectively in his arms. Through his daughter's bravado and courage against adversity he had not realised just how these new expectations on her would affect her. "You can do it, sweetheart, we'll all help you."
"But I don't want to do it." Estella cried defensively. "I don't want to just forget everything that's happened. I want everyone to know! I'm not ashamed, I shouldn't have to hide behind a lie anymore. It's not fair."
"I know it's not fair." Sirius stroked his daughter's hair lovingly, relieved that the implication in his daughter's tone belied that the child at least knew that it still had to be done. "There are a million things I'd love to do differently if I could, but I can't. We're in this together, Estella, you don't have to feel like you're on your own. Please don't shut us out."
Estella held onto her father even more tightly. "It's going to be so hard without you there." She admitted. "I don't know how I will do it without you and Uncle Remus… and I won't be able to go to Uncle Sev, will I?"
"You'll have to be very careful if you seek him out." Sirius nodded. "But you will be able to see him, I'm sure he'd make sure of that." He paused. "And don't forget, you're in third year now, Moony and Padfoot will never be too far away from you if you need us."
"Really?" Estella looked up at her father, relief flooding her eyes.
"Of course." Sirius assured the weary child. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. Things will be a lot clearer in the morning."
"Will you stay with me?" Estella asked, reluctantly loosening her death grip, somewhat, in the event that her father may care to leave.
"I'm not going anywhere." Sirius kissed his daughter's brow and shifted slightly so that the child could nestle down in her blankets.
When Estella awoke, she was alone in her bed, the door to the hallway slightly ajar. Beside her, the warm compression of her father's presence still lingered, the man evidently having only just left the room. Sighing contently, Estella stretched and rolled over on the wide mattress, spreading herself out liberally. Yawning widely as she lolled languidly, prolonging the moment where she would have to face the day – and the school – once more, Estella stopped in her tracks when her ears pricked with the tell-tale sound of tinkling ivories.
'What the?' Estella's mind was amiss, who on earth would be making such a racket at this hour?
Led by her curiosity, Estella stole her way downstairs, the wild-haired teen was astonished to peek her head around the doorframe of the living room and be greeted by the sight of her father playing the piano.
Evidently, her father had been kept busy during his housebound refuge – but who taught him to play? A wanted criminal could hardly call on a notice in the Daily Prophet! The comical image of her Uncle trying to teach her father how to play betrayed her presence in the room as she snorted derisively. How absurd! The piano would have been hexed into matchsticks.
Glancing around the room unconsciously searching for any sign of tell-tale curse marks or other such evidence that could account for her father's sudden proficiency, Estella's eyes fell on the knowing, wistful smile of her mother's portrait. Suddenly, everything started to make sense. Darting her eyes between the oil-stroked depths of her mother's face to her father, Estella's gaze lingered when she caught her father's eye. Looking up to smile at his daughter invitingly, Sirius didn't miss a beat in his playing. His eyes never left hers as he began to sing the Muggle song Estella quickly began to recognise.
"Look into my eyes, you will see
What you mean to me
Search your heart, search your soul
And when you find me there
You'll search no more.
Don't tell me it's not worth trying for
Can't tell me it's not worth dying for
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you.
Look into your heart, you will find
There's nothing there to hide
Take me as I am, take my life
I will give it all, I would sacrifice
Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for
I can't help it there's nothing I want more
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you
There's no love, like your love
And no other, could give more love
There's no way, unless you're there
All the time, all the way
Yeah I would fight for you
I'd lie for you
Walk the wire for you
Yeah I'd die for you
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you"
If the thought of her father singing a demonstrably 'corny song for chicks' wasn't surreal and out of character enough, the sudden exposure of Remus making a grand entrance stage right wielding a wireless fender strat like a vagabond rock star, his fingers working the frets effortlessly as he stood illuminated under a conjured Super Trooper playing the guitar solo, had her sense of reality well and truly evicted and on vacation. The image of her father singing, in itself, was not altogether shocking… for as she had come to realise over the time she had known him, his musky malboro-winded baritone held quite an amenable tune as he amused himself in the kitchen. That said, however, even though the tone of the song complemented his voice quite well, the concept of him serenading her with a pop piano ballad seemed about as likely as her Godfather running off to become the next Eric Clapton on the axe. She'd never even known Remus so much as owned a six-string, and her father was much more at home grunting out punk rock to the beat of his own drummer than expressing his heartfelt sentiment through song.
All of a sudden, Estella blinked to find herself back in her bed upstairs, lying in her father's arms.
It had all been a dream!
On the corner of bedside table, however, her Muggle radio alarm clock played out the ending of the Muggle song that had coloured her waking dream. His chin resting on the top of her head from where he had not moved all night, Estella could hear her father absently humming along to the song's omniscient words.
"You know," Her father said quietly, kissing the top her head in greeting. "I don't mind that song."
Estella shifted so that she could look at her father's face. Seeing the serene innocence of his statement etched on his features, her active mind reconciling it with the surreal dream she had just had, Estella couldn't help but to erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.
"What?" Sirius badgered her incredulously. "What'd I say?"
Incidentally, at that same moment, an introverted Potions Master sat in a darkened corner of his dungeon abode, his elegant, slender fingers caressing another song by the same Muggle artist from the inconspicuous upright piano he had recently installed. Unbeknownst to anyone – even his niece – the notoriously emotionally bereft man had a hidden appreciation for the more innocuous Muggle releases – ballads, particularly. He found solace in the soft tones of the melodies – distant cousins of their classical predecessors – and identified with the intuitive waxing of singers who could sing what he could not even find the words to speak.
While he was not fool enough to muddy the perception of the song in his mind by attempting to emulate the practiced etiquette of an accomplished vocalist, the skill-fingered piano man outpoured his inner turmoil into the soundless ears of the finely tuned keys; unlocking the door to his soul in its exclusive company. Recreating the piano score of such songs by ear, Severus found the process to be far more rewarding than wordlessly reviving the most creatively dense concertos, for only could these modern pop classics give voice to his heart's inarticulate meanderings.
Embellishing the simple piano foundation with borrowings from his more inclusive classical roots, Severus gave the song new life as the lyrics he had found so applicable to the way the related to his niece echoed in his soul:
With your arms open wide
Want you here, by my side
Come to me, darlin' rescue me
When this world's closing in, there's no need to pretend
Set me free darlin' rescue me
I don't wanna let you go
So I'm standing in your way
I never needed anyone like I'm needing you today
Do I have to say the words?
In just a few short hours, Estella would be back at the school facing one of the most trying days in her short life. It pained Severus to know what obstacles he would have to induce, and how much more distant and helpless he would have to be in his role as a spy. As far as the greater school population was concerned, his niece had been kidnapped by her father without his approval, and he was not pleased with her. All the disdain, displeasure and indifference he had so habitually reserved for just one other student, he will now have to unleash upon his niece if he wanted to ensure her survival… something he would want to guarantee no matter the personal cost.
Dumbledore assured him that efforts would be made to secure covert – safe – mediums for which he could properly associate with his niece; but Severus did not believe that the act of self-indulgently appeasing his guilt by seeking out the child to reassure her was worth the potential risk. Estella should know him well enough to realise that he would never willingly treat her the way he was going to have to appear to do. Like the song, he shouldn't have to say the words. If she did start to doubt him and believe the ferocity of his act, then it was a punishment he had only brought on himself. Hopefully she would know, as he did, that the strength and believability of the lengths he will traverse to make it appear that he no longer had a familial claim to her was but a reflection of the determination and sacrifice he was prepared to make to keep her protected.
Yes, he will do what the Headmaster asked him to do, and he would do it well… and no one will ever discover just how much it tore him up inside to do it.
To delay the onset of rumours and unwanted attention, it was decided that Estella would Portkey directly to her Common Room during breakfast on the first day of term and head directly to her first class of the new year. Waiting for her in the Common room would be the headmaster and her head of house, who was incidentally teaching her in first period.
"Miss Black, I do believe you will find your things in this room." Professor Dumbledore gestured helpfully as he and Professor Flitwick accompanied her to her dorms, the far away child having by-passed the third-year dorms completely on her habitual passage to the fifth year rooms.
Turning back to nod at the all-knowing Headmaster, Estella's face fell. She had not even encountered any of her classmates yet and already things were starkly different – and this was merely the beginning.
"I don't know if I can do this, Professor." She said dejectedly, looking lost. Already the bravado she had coaxed herself into feeling when saying her farewells to an equally affected pair of family men was slipping away. Though it had been but a meagre fifteen minutes since she had step foot in the segregated amnesty of her father's abode, it was beginning to feel like a lifetime.
"Don't fear, child. The anxiety will pass." Dumbledore patted her shoulder gently. "You will feel much better once you start classes and get back into the rhythm of things."
Estella nodded mutely, but inwardly she was not as optimistic. Things were going to be so different!
After quickly seeing to her trunk and other personal effects, Estella filled her book bag with the texts her study schedule mandated that she have on her for the morning's classes and followed her Housemaster to the Charms classroom. The pair travelled the corridor in blissful silence… all of the staff (besides her uncle) were still under the impression that she had just spent the past several months on the run from the law with her fugitive father – the unbalanced man having kidnapped her from her Uncle's estate – and that he had only just seen fit to see her return for the rest of her education.
"Don't look so pensive, child." Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice assured her as he guided her into the classroom. "You have missed quite a bit of work, but I've every confidence you will be able to recover."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll do fine." Estella said, smiling wanly as she inwardly thought how strange it was going to be regress back to the third year curriculum, different from the 70s though it may be. "I tried to keep up with the texts wherever I could."
"Splendid!" Professor Flitwick smiled toothily and scurried over to his desk to prepare his notes before the class arrived.
By the time Estella was re-acquainted with the familiar sight of her proper classmates entering the classroom in a buzz of shuffling feet and lingering breakfast time conversations, the studious child was already taking down the class notes, appearing outwardly unaffected by the upcoming explosion of activity. Slowly, as the students began to mill to their seats, first acknowledging the presence of a new student, then realising with a start just who it was, an eerie silence washed over the room. All eyes on her, Estella shifted uncomfortably in her seat, focusing her attention on the notes on the page before her, trying to pretend that she wasn't the object of the excited whispers that rippled through the class in delayed response.
This was, after all, something she had to become prepared to expect.
"Settle class." Professor Flitwick intervened somewhat posthumously. "If everyone will continue taking their seats and turn to chapter seven we will begin today's class."
"But sir!" A wiry looking Gryffindor shot his hand up in alarm, but spoke out of turn all the same, his mouth gaping like a fish as he stared at her, wide-eyed. Around the room, dozens of eyes flitted between the gutsy boy, herself and their teacher, all seeking the same answer.
Professor Flitwick looked at Estella sympathetically before addressing the class' concerns.
"Yes, as I am sure you have all by now seen, another of your classmates has returned for the new term after a unavoidably long sabbatical." The short, unassuming wizard bellowed powerfully from his stance atop his teaching platform of sorts – a sturdy wooden stepladder not unlike what you would find in a prestigious library in archaic times. "Pupils come and go from Hogwarts every year, class. I deplore you all – my Ravenclaws especially – to not treat this situation any differently." He looked to where Estella was furiously scratching away with her quill. "I am sure Miss Black is ever eager to concentrate on her studies."
Throughout this rather subjective display of attention, Estella was absconded in her own little world. One of the side benefits of learning the process of Occlumency was the innate ability to tune herself in or out of her immediate surroundings. So engrossed was she in the pages before her – her eyes virtually memorising the detailed analysis of the particular charm she was reading about – Estella did not register the silent thrum of the students as they began turning their attentions to their own note taking; and nor did she notice the movement of people sitting next to her – so when they started to talk to her excitedly, the diligent Ravenclaw flinched.
"Estella! When did you get back!" The excited whisper of her old dorm-mate Elsie nudged her back to her senses.
"Where have you been?" Her old first year Gryffindor Charms partner stared at her like she had just been hit with a bat bogey hex. "Are you alright?"
"I'll be alright when I can just get things back to normal." Estella intoned lowly, causing her old friends to rear back warily, before flashing them a winning smile – she was, after all, still happy to see them. "Long time no see!"
"Yes, well, thanks for the Owl to let us know you were alright!" Elsie scolded Estella firmly then squealed without warning and hugged her tightly, causing parchment and quills to slide across the table.
"Elsie, you're going to spill the ink!" Estella scrambled to save the innocent looking ink well that was teetering on the brink of disaster.
Noticing the pointed look their professor was giving them over the rim of his thin-wired bifocals, Victoria cleared her throat.
"Guys I think we should get back to our work." She hissed urgently. "But, Estella, don't think you're off the hook. Not even for a minute."
"We want details." Elsie blurted. Then, considering the content of such revelations, she faltered. "If you can tell us anything, that is."
"Well to save you waiting there's not much I am allowed to say." Estella said cryptically. "Nor particularly care to talk about. The memories are still pretty fresh." She was of course, referring to the pain of coming back to the future to find most of whom she met in the past dead; not any measure of horrible things her 'deranged' father subjected her to when holding her captive; which, judging by the paling looks on her friend's faces, was something along the lines of what they were thinking.
"Forget we asked anything." Victoria said hastily. "We're just glad to have you back."
"I wish I could say the same." Estella admitted without thinking. But then, not missing a beat, she quickly covered herself. "It's going to be a zoo around here for a while, isn't it?"
"Oh, I don't know about that." Elsie whispered, not looking up from the book she was reading from. "Everyone's pretty preoccupied at the moment with the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
Estella looked at her friend quizzically, then it hit her. The day her Uncle and father had their row, her Dad had told her something about a Tournament and that Harry was involved. This must have been what he was talking about.
"Oh well, I'm sure I will hear all about it at lunch." Estella shrugged, catching the eyes of a extremely distracted John and Reg, who, from their places at the back of the class, looked like they were about to leap out of their seats at any moment in their desire to chew her out.
Sure enough, Estella's reunion between the two male Ravenclaws couldn't have come fast enough for the two stalwart all-rounders. Such was the schedule that year, that their morning classes were all double periods, and so the group had to wait until morning tea to so much as say a word to their newly returned friend. The twenty minute break went all too quickly, with the group barely having enough time to retrieve their equipment from the dorms before heading down to the dungeons for their first Potions class for the new year.
"So, have you seen your uncle since… since you've been back?" Reg asked her carefully, sidling up alongside her.
Estella shook her head numbly. "He… he…" She didn't know what to say. Though she had a fair idea what to expect – what was necessary – Estella was apprehensive.
"Oh, come, I am sure he will be very glad to see you back." John squeezed her arm encouragingly. "It's not like you did anything wrong."
"Well look at what we have here." A voice emerged from the shadows by the Potion's classroom, all dark tones and eyes. "I see you have seen fit to grace us with your presence."
Estella's eyes widened at the sight of her Uncle's ire directed at her, as though he were truly resenting that she was her father's daughter. Next to her, she could feel her friend's eyes regard her with a sympathetic look.
'It's all an act… it's all pretend.' She tried to assure herself, her searching eyes finding no proof of deceit in her Uncle's flawless performance.
'Just picture him wearing a long, Slytherin green dress with a fox-fur scarf, a big tall hat with a stuffed vulture atop it and carrying a red handbag.' Her Godfather had suggested to her kindly, an amused, almost reminiscent look in his eyes. 'I shall share the memory with you if you require help conjuring the image'
Remus was, incidentally, referring to the shape Neville Longbottom's Boggart had taken the year he had taught at the school. While Estella did not need the visual aid to picture her Uncle in such a state (she had heard enough about it from the students at the time to have the idea firmly etched in her memory), her father had bolted from the room in search of a pensieve so quickly, Estella thought he might just fall over himself. The supremely smug look on her father's face for the rest of that day was enough to bring a small smile of contentment to her face as she poured over her potions notes.
"Is there something you find amusing that you would like to share with the class, Miss Black?" Her Uncle badgered her, his steely black eyes seeking her out, a solitary brow raised. If Estella didn't know any better, she'd swear he'd been using legilimens on her mind and had seen she was thinking about her father paying him out. "No? Then perhaps you are finding the work of your classmates too remedial for your grossly overestimated abilities and feel you are too good to be in this class?"
Estella shook her head and narrowed her eyes at her Uncle. For purposes of having her 'catch up' on the work she had missed out on earlier in the academic year, Estella was being required to work from independent class notes – the potions she would be brewing, by herself, were not on the third year curriculum; or perhaps even the whole school curriculum. The astute young potions brewer knew that this was her Uncle's covert way to ensure she would be challenged and learning at her own level in his class; but the segregation also opened avenues for her Uncle to target her for criticism. As a rule of thumb, none of Estella's class mates were actively aware of what work their classmate was working solo on. For the most part, they assumed she was merely catching up on potions they themselves had been assessed on earlier in the year.
Frowning as she glanced over the ingredient list of the potion her Uncle had assigned for her to brew, Estella realised that several of the ingredients were not available in the student stores. When she looked up to chance a look at her Uncle from where he sat at his desk, she could see his eyes appraising her knowingly – almost as though he were waiting for her to take his bait and incite a row.
Thinking analytically as she methodically prepared the ingredients she did have in front of her, Estella tried to reason with her Uncle's method. To highlight the fact that she required ingredients from the Potion Master's private stores would reveal the advancement of the potion she was brewing and raise suspicion… yet if her Uncle wanted her to do some work in his class without requesting use of his stores then there had to be an applicable substitution she could employ to the same effect. Was he really just trying to challenge her? Deciding that he must have had that in mind, Estella set to work wracking her mind and what little text resources she had in front of her to analyse the properties of the missing ingredients and come up with an approximate alternative.
Recalling with a measure of satisfaction an obscure passage in an old potions book from her mother's collection that she'd all but memorised Estella realised that her missing ingredient could be readily substituted by equal quantities of hellebore and aconite, prepared in the same manner as the intended ingredient would have been. Fetching the said ingredients from the student stores and setting to work diligently, Estella completed the potion and had it bottled within moments of the bell ringing.
From the competent challenge of her Potions class to the completely foreign medium of Arithmancy, Estella revelled in throwing herself headfirst in a completely new subject she was already behind in. It was not going to be easy to catch up on half a year's work, and it would have been all but impossible had Estella not been an avid reader in her younger years.
Lunch followed soon after, and it was here that John and Reg took great delight in informing her all about the Triwizards Tournament and explaining who the students from the other schools were and how Hogwarts managed to have two entrants into the contest. As soon as she heard the circumstances by which Harry's name was innocuously spewed from the Goblet of Fire, she could tell something was amiss at the school.
'Harry's involved when he shouldn't be.' Her father had said to her; and, well, judging by how the Weasley twin's failed attempts to 'age' themselves to fool the goblet into receiving their submission it became increasingly clear that however Harry became involved against the tournament's regulations, it was not by his own design.
Reg and John were halfway through giving Estella a highly animated account of Harry's encounter with the Hungarian Horntail dragon during the first task when the awed Ravenclaw worriedly sought out Harry's face for the first time since she had entered the Great Hall. True to Elsie's word, the general population of Hogwarts was too preoccupied with the Tournament to truly register her return. The Ravenclaws knew better than to pry and detract the object of consideration or themselves away from study; while she hadn't had a class with the Slytherins yet and the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students she had already encountered were generally too focused on their respective school champions to spread gossip. It therefore came as quite a surprise to the infamous Gryffindor to see the familiar grey eyes of the Black line staring at him from across the room; their owner back from the past, alive, and settling back into school; his eyes seeking her out after Ron's younger sister – who was in her Charms class – passed on the news.
'Surprise!' Estella smirked into her plate, forever capturing the priceless look of shock and awe that washed over the boy-who-lived's face when Ginny's claim was confirmed. It had been a mutual decision between all involved not to inform the industrious Potter about Estella's return in favour of permitting the boy to concentrate on his role in the Yule Ball and giving Estella time to regroup.
Predictably, Harry quickly gathered up his two faithful sidekicks and rose from the Gryffindor table to seek her out. Excusing herself from the Ravenclaw table, she crossed the room to meet them halfway. As she got closer to Harry, however, her emotions spiralled to the edge of losing control. Up close, it was much easier not to mistake the boy for his father; but still, the fact that he was here in front of her at all served as a bittersweet reminder of who had been lost.
Standing toe to toe, the pair didn't hesitate in exchanging a terse, awkward embrace. While for Harry it was a culmination of an apology and relief at knowing, by extension, that his Godfather was out of his misery; for Estella it was merely a need to seek contact from the offspring of two people she had, in her point of view, seen barely a fortnight ago. In Harry's arms she could almost pretend that it was James brushing past her in his haste to get out of a classroom. In Harry's gaze she could see memories of Lily studying her intently as she waited for her answer as they quizzed each other in preparation for tests.
It wasn't that Estella had grown spectacularly close to the Marauders or the girls in their lives. Part of her readily acknowledged that while Peter ogled her like some sick nut with a crush and a somewhat needy and insecure Remus valued the company of anyone who could stand being near him despite knowing his secret; Sirius and James pretty much based their interest in her on the level of what notes she could take for them and her envied connections with the Broom industry; and Lily and Selina were always after a competent study partner. She just wasn't in the past long enough to truly mean more to them than that. As a result, Estella felt that she was also denied the opportunity to really get to know them. Lily would always be the one Selina would confide her secrets to, and vice a versa; and while the boys were a lot more open and easy going, she'd only found out about their two biggest secrets – becoming Animagi and Remus' condition – by accident.
The biggest irony was that it was Peter who invested his faith her most fully, convincing James and Sirius not to go to the drastic lengths of distorting the integrity of what she had overheard by attempting a memory charm on her; but rather to bestow her with knowledge. To think of how alienated and how much less enjoyable her time in the past would have been if the two-timing little rat hadn't vouched for her and given her the opportunity to prove herself to them as being trustworthy.
"Estella?" Harry looked at her concernedly, his hands balancing heavily on either shoulder.
"What? Oh, sorry James… I was in another world." Estella muttered, only to stare wildly and swipe her hand over her mouth in shock when it became apparent what she had said. Her pained grey eyes meeting startled green, Estella shook her head, rattling the past from her mind. "I'm… I'm sorry."
"Why did you just call Harry, James?" Ron stared at her suspiciously, having only been aware of Sirius' innocence and his decision to reclaim his daughter; and not her side trip to the past.
"I suspect she would have been learning a lot about my father in recent months." Harry leapt to her rescue, his hungry green eyes casting her a meaningful look. "It's so great to see you're back! I'm sorry how we left things… I did try and talk to you back then but…"
"Harry. HARRY!" Estella interrupted him, shaking her head in warning – it would not do to have a conversation in public that alluded to her father's innocence. "Please, I just want to leave the past in the past. I have a feeling the future is going to hurl enough stuff this way as it is."
Harry looked at her sharply, his immediate interpretation drawing the conclusion that she was not going to share with him stories of his parents. A reproachful look from her, however, soon set him straight and caused his emerald irises to sparkle like gems.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Estella could then see Hermione give Ron a short, sharp stab in his side with her elbow. Flinching as though startled from a reverie, Ron cleared his throat compulsively and rubbed sweaty palms over the thighs of his threadbare robes.
"I, er, was a bit of a git." Ron averted his eyes. "But that was because I thought your Dad…"
"RON!" Two equally urgent Gryffindors hissed at their friend, warning him of the appropriateness of his content, Harry having had caught on to the earlier admonishment of his own near slip.
"Not here." Hermione reminded him, causing the red-headed boy to flush and step down a peg or two.
"Gee Hermione, you wanted me to apologise, didn't you?" Ron shook his head in confusion. "Make up your mind."
"I don't want your apology if someone else forced you to say it." Estella said coolly, narrowing her gaze.
"No! That's not what I meant!" Ron spluttered looking to Harry for help. "Harry, mate, you know what I…"
"Look I just came to say hello." Estella said, addressing them all. "Now is not the right time to…"
"See, that's what I said, Ron!" Hermione chastised her friend more thoroughly. "Estella, it's lovely seeing you back again. I'm sure we'll catch up more thoroughly when you're more settled."
"Thank you, Hermione." Estella nodded gratefully. "I'm still a little behind the times. Jet lag, I think the Muggles call it." She looked pointedly at Harry. "There was a bit of a time delay between here and where I've spent the past few months."
Harry nodded imperceptibly in silent agreement that they would seek each other out in a more private arena to set aside their differences and get reacquainted. Before they could make any arrangements, however, Draco Malfoy sauntered over.
"Hello, Estella." Draco drawled in a confident, monotonous tone; his ogre-like bodyguards flanking him on either side. "Potter."
"Malfoy." Harry glared, stepping slightly in front of Estella. Then, seeing their eccentric Defence Professor hobbling towards them from over the coy Slytherin's shoulder, he smiled. "Hello, Professor Moody."
Draco demonstrably paled and retreated slightly. "I'll be seeing you later, Estella." He said in parting, quickly making his exit before the overbearing professor would see reason to transfigure him into a ferret again.
Estella could only nod, confused at the normally self-assured Malfoy's complete turn around and the three amused looks on the Gryffindor's faces.
"You must be Miss Black." Professor Moody clapped a hand on her shoulder, sending a cool shiver down her spine. "I am Professor Alastor Moody, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Estella eyed the strange man curiously. She had met the decommissioned Auror several years ago at a function the school hosted for what Dumbledore referred to as 'the old crowd' during the Summer holidays; and yet here he was introducing himself for the first time. She wracked her brain fruitlessly… maybe she had him mistaken for another wizard with a wooden leg and a magical eye. The combination was an odd one, but if this man didn't know who she was then clearly it must not have been as rare as she had thought.
"Uh, nice to meet you, Sir." Estella said. "I look forward to our class after lunch."
Professor Moody's magical eye whirled, making her uncomfortable under its scrutiny. "I've heard interesting things about you, Miss Black." He said, giving her an unreadable look as his magical eye lingered on her pendant, as though assessing it. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch."
As Professor Moody hobbled away, Estella rubbed her arms furiously, trying in vain to dispel the rash of goose bumps that peppered her skin in the man's presence, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She knew from his name that he had once been a respectable Auror, and therefore quite trustworthy, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread. Something about the man just gave her the creeps… and her pendant was uncharacteristically cool.
"He's a little… different." Hermione looked after the Professor's retreating back, sympathising with Estella's unease. "But he's quite a competent teacher."
"You should see what he did to Malfoy." Ron smirked.
"Turned him into a ferret." Harry nodded.
Estella narrowed her eyes. As amusing as it was, she knew from having an ex-Auror for a teacher in her time in the past that a man with such power would not take advantage of a student's inability to defend themselves by subjecting them to such humiliation. Even Professor Potter, who had a sense of humour and didn't mind the odd prank on even grounds, would never have resorted to transfiguring a student. Something was definitely up.
Her experiences during her double DADA class that afternoon did little to ally her suspicions. Since when were the unforgivables on the school curriculum?
"Miss Black, would you like to volunteer for the class?" Professor Moody's magical eye lolled at her. "I would like to assess how far behind you are."
"Pardon?" Estella's eyes were wide as saucers, as were those of most of her class.
"Oh I assure you it won't harm you." Professor Moody stared at her intently, his wand levelled at her. "Imperio."
'Come to the front of the class' Estella heard a firm voice urge her to act, the direction the only point of clarity in her foggy mind. Nothing else mattered at that moment besides going to the front of the class.
Taking but one step forward, however, Estella's mind sharpened back into focus. Why did she want to go up to the front of the class? The teacher this year did not quite sit right with her, why did she want to do as he said? Faltering in her step, Estella could feel the persistent urging in her mind get more forceful.
'Come to the front, now!' Her Professor's voice growled in her mind, the man in question now gripping his wand so tightly in his hand as he threw his strength into the spell that the tip of his wand was shaking.
Her eyes concentrating on the tip of the wand pointed at her, Estella's hand instinctively flew to her wand, the voice in her head all but gone in her conditioned urge to defend herself.
"Expelliarmus!" Her teacher's voice snapped at her, the man's one good eye wild and affronted; a single bead of sweat evident on his brow.
"No!" Estella croaked, helpless as her wand flew from her hand.
Almost as though he was just noticing the rest of the class' stunned looks, Professor Moody lowered his wand and looked at her with an eerie smile on his face. Sheafing his own wand to take a sip from his ever-present hipflask, the Professor approached her from where she stood at her desk, somewhat wary.
"Very impressive, Miss Black." Professor Moody appraised her lightly, handing her back her wand. "It takes an extremely stubborn witch to resist the Imperius Curse." He levelled his magical eye at her searchingly. "Tell me, what did you do to prevent yourself from complying with my request?"
Estella shrugged, her fingers twitching over the smooth dark wood of her wand, which she could not bring herself to holster. "Maybe I could sense you were requesting me to do something and not compelling me to."
"Quite right." Professor Moody took the opportunity to redeem himself and grabbed it with both hands. "I would not put full power into such a spell on a student. I was merely trying to let you get an idea on what the process was like."
As much sense as the off-beat Defence teacher was making, Estella couldn't help but feel that there was something contrived in the man's statement. She had not been blind to the effort the man had gone to in casting his spell, and had chosen the Slytherin option of protecting his ego in giving her response. That he had been so quick to brush off her feat as something he had permitted, only added to her unease. Asides from Professor Lockhart, she'd not experienced such a ego-driven teacher, and from Alastor Moody's reputation, he hardly seemed the type. Before either of them could travel down that road, though, the bell tolled to signify the end of classes. Estella was instantly reminded of the well worn Muggle saying, 'saved by the bell'; for saved by the bell she was… or so she thought.
Waiting outside the library for her friends to catch up to her (they had been working on a extra-credit group assignment for Ancient Runes before the school had adjourned for Christmas and had wanted to discuss something with their Professor after that class) Estella was alone in the corridor. On any other occasion, Estella would have just walked into the library; only the librarian had been absent at lunch and was more than likely to be unaware of her return and make a fuss: at least if she walked in with some other students she would have a reason to extricate herself from the awkward reunion.
It was while she stood and waited that, to her horror, he pendant began to warm slightly against he skin. Before she had time to react, a hand gripped her forearm.
"Hello, Estella. We meet again." Draco loomed over her with a wry, false smile on his face.
Judging by his book bag and the pile of books under his free arm, the boy had been on his way to the library.
Noting from that observation that the boy, whose hands were occupied holding his books and her arm respectively, was not in ready reach of his wand; Estella felt marginally safer. Though she had always been a little wary of the Malfoy's political aspirations and careful not to divulge her divergent beliefs accordingly, now that Draco most likely knew now that her loyalties were not in synch with his own, she found that she would miss the Slytherin's company. Despite everything, the boy had been a bright and considerate study partner and enthusiastic chess player whose sardonic sense of humour rivalled her own.
When Estella hadn't said anything in return, the smooth Slytherin removed his hand from her arm and smiled even more benignly at her.
"Have a nice time away?" He asked, his malignant tone all but giving away the fact that he knew.
"It's good to be back at school." Estella feinted, avoiding his question.
Hearing some students approach, Draco brushed past her and pushed open the Library door; hesitating only to look back at her. "My father sends his regards." He said with a smirk so sinister – and reminiscent of his lineage - that it made Estella's insides crawl.
She was still purging her body of the reactive shudders that wracked her bones when she was reunited with her friends. After exchanging the dispersing with the customary small-talk, the group entered the library; Estella making sure they sat well out of the way of a certain Slytherin.
Unbeknownst to the (now) conscientiously studying child, another Slytherin had been watching her extremely carefully. Emerging from the shadows of the dimly lit corridor, Severus Snape exhaled sharply and returned his wand to his robes. He had been on his way to the infirmary, slinking down in the unsuspecting shadows of the Castle's corridors, when he had happened across his niece with the young Malfoy heir. It became increasingly apparent that the impressionable youth was an agent for his father; and that he knew where Estella had truly been in recent months… so Severus knew that he had to be extremely careful how he approached the situation. Anything and everything Draco witnessed him to do to his niece, Draco would report back to his father; and with Severus presently under orders to commandeer his niece, it would not do to present the young Slytherin with news that his head of house had the opportunity to get the child on her own outside of classes – with no witnesses – and refrained. So, Severus stood, watching from the shadows, his wand drawn and ready to put his position on the line if Draco advanced on his niece with anything that remotely looked like a wand or a Portkey. The thought that next time the young Malfoy would be better prepared and that he might not be there in the shadows, ready to intervene, sent a cold shiver down the reticent Potion Master's spine.
He had to keep a very careful eye on the young Slytherin… and have a very strongly worded discussion with his niece. How could she be so daft as to leave herself open, alone in a corridor like that?
As the pensive Housemaster turned and went on his way, his patent black robes billowing around his wiry frame, the industrious Slytherin resolved, again, to protect his niece at all costs. Subsequently changing his course for the Owlery, Severus went over the rapidly forming plan in his mind. He had an Owl to send…
End Chapter: New Beginnings