AUTHOR'S NOTE!
I recently realized errors in the last few chapters of this story and have been editing in new content and removing some old. This is one of the chapters that have been edited/combined, so reread for continuity! Thanks for reading!
"So, tell me one last time, what're you doing to my fireplace?" Mara asked as a bite of pancake neared her mouth, "I'd like to be aware if I'll be receiving any unwelcome wizards covered in soot."
Eliza snickered and glugged down a sip of sour juice. "The charm will reverse as soon as I use it, meaning no, no one is going to be shooting into the living room covered in soot."
"Well, that's a relief." Mara smiled. "I was worried for a second I'd have to constantly have the kettle running for visitors."
The Aunt and niece duo continued to eat their breakfast; Eliza's favorite meal of pancakes, four strips of bacon and as much orange juice as she could stomach.
It was sort of a farewell breakfast, seeing as in just a little while, she'd be floo'ing to the Weasley's for the next month.
Mara finished off her plate and took a long sip of her preferred tea. "I always miss you when you're off at that school, and now I don't even get you for the summer."
Eliza tried to interject but Mara shook her head, "I know, I know, it's a once in a lifetime event that you're still shocked you're even going to. I just…"
She sighed and smiled at her Aunt, "I really do wish I could bring you and show you all the things I love about magic. But if anyone knew that you knew," Eliza shrugged. "They'd erase your memory of me."
"Love, I'm more than aware of that, and I'm grateful for the risk you're taking in even telling me anything at all." Mara smiled, nails tapping on the side of her mug, "My sister would've loved to see the witch you've become."
It was an anomaly to hear Mara speak about her sister—Eliza's mother—but the few times that she did, Eliza always asked, "What was she like, my mother?"
And Mara always gave the same answer, "She was very kind, and I never knew her to hate anyone, no matter how cruel. Her and Eton were two of the best people I knew."
Sadness drenched the Aunt's words and it always made Eliza regret asking, so instead, she changed the subject, "Have you made any plans now that you have the place to yourself?"
Mara wiped away her watery eyes, "Not much, regular knitting and flower watching. But uhm…"
She fidgeted nervously and laid both hands on the table, "I wanted to talk to you about something before you left."
Eliza chuckled nervously, "Alright, what is it?"
"Well, I was cleaning a few days ago when you were out and I went into your room to put away some of your laundry and I know that your sweaters go under your bed. So, of course, I took out the clothes container and I really wasn't trying to snoop, dear."
Eliza felt her stomach plummet into the ground, sinking all the way to the opposite side of the globe.
"And I know, your birthday is soon and you'll be 17 and you're practically and adult and all that, but darling—"
"Mara, I can explain—."
"Who's Remus?"
The stack of letters that she had so cleverly hidden under her bed had been found by her Aunt, the letters from Remus that they'd been sending back and forth by Owl for the past month.
"Uhm… Well…" she tried to think of the best lie known to wizard kind, "Remus…Remus is…"
Mara urged her on, "Yes? Who is he?"
"Remus is a boy at my school" was the best she could come up with.
"Oh." Mara looked slightly surprised, "That's it?"
"Yep." She popped the 'p', innocently smiling at her Aunt, quickly standing and making a stack of their dishes.
"I'd love to continue this conversation but I really need to get to the Weasley's. Can't be late."
Mara slyly smiled and watched Eliza eagerly pack the dishwasher and shut it closed, "Ah, I get it, I was in love once too. But remember, don't let him—"
"I can't hear you! I'm already gone!" Eliza fled the kitchen to stand in the living room before the fireplace, grabbing her luggage in one hand and a handful of floo powder in the other.
The Aunt had her hip leaned against the doorway, smirking while waving "Don't let him touch your lady bits."
"Weasley Burrow!"
Mara watched her niece disappear in a flash of green flames, shaking her head with a snicker.
There was a noise across the way; the old house a few meters out was sure to be abandoned, as no one had lived there for ages. The lights were lit on the second floor, and the vague sound of yelling was loud enough to have the old man looking away from his kettle, glaring out the window.
"Bloody kids."
This wasn't the first time the old man had been forced to throw hooligans out from the second story house that caused more trouble than good. No one had lived there for some time now. It was a simple task of grabbing his lantern, lighting it with a match and leaving his home, shivering at the bitter cold outside.
He mumbled to himself as he crossed the grounds, the metal gate shrieking when he pushed. The front door was always unlocked; there was no point in locking a house that only he even ventured into. He heard the whispers upstairs, lifting the lantern with squinted eyes.
He stepped quietly up the stairs. His old ears could barely tell if the voices were young or old, male or female.
At the top of the steps, he stopped, watching the door that was open a crack. The voices became more clear, and he listened with a furrowed brow, "Oh no, no, my Lord. I only… if perhaps… we didn't need the boy…"
The old man nearly ran back down the stairs at the guttural, "No!"
It feels wrong, but he steps closer, eyes seeing a small round figure kneeling next to a large chair. A sickly voice growled, "The boy is everything, it cannot be done without him and it will be done exactly as I say."
The round figure shuddered but nodded, backing away as a much taller and visibly younger man stepped forward and knelt, "I will not disappoint you, my Lord."
There was something chaotic and frightening about that young man, his voice holding a terrifying madness that nearly had the old man turning back.
The rounded figure tried to back away as the younger man spoke with a desperate tone, "And the girl, my Lord? May I…?"
The old man nearly yelped as he felt something slither by his feet. It was a snake, longer than a grown man, its scales shining in the green light and effectively interrupting the three men. The crazed young man turned and looked right at him, standing up to a full height.
The old man was too terrified to run;"Nagini tells me the old caretaker is standing right outside the door."
"Step aside, so I may give our guest a proper greeting." The young man stepped aside and withered eyes watched a leathered hand grip a pointed stick, turning to his once hidden position.
"Avada Kedavra—!"
"Wake up!" The shrill voice of Hermione Granger had the nightmare ending in a pinch.
Eliza watched through blurry eyes as the fourth year stood over her with a pillow, presumably the same one that had just struck her and took her from the dream that frankly she was glad to be out of. It won't stop, she thought, they keep happening.
The dreams of the terrifying figure with a face she could not see, Peter Pettigrew, and an unknown man had run rampant all summer. She didn't know what they meant or why they were happening, but they never failed to leave chills running through her body.
Writing to Remus about the dreams had been a fleeting thought that came and went each morning and night. Their letters back and forth were safely hidden under her bed; he wrote sweet poems and confessed to craving her touch, and she wrote soft words of affection and desire.
Their time apart had done more bad than good. Except Mara's seen them, she remembered, hopefully she didn't read too much.
And she pondered if telling him about her worrisome dreams would persuade him from his hidey-hole in Grimmauld Place, Sirius' hideout, bringing him to her doorstep with a worried gaze. But I could kiss those worries away, she tried to reason.
Still, she hadn't seen him in months and missed him dearly.
When she'd received the letter to the World cup, she'd made quick work of moving into Charlie Weasley's old room. The second eldest Weasley was off in Romania studying an array of dragons. Unsurprisingly, Ron had invited Hermione and Harry.
They were fourth years, and since she was in her seventh year, they typically did not find company in each other's presence. Molly and Arthur had been on the receiving end of many hugs and thanks, appreciating the privacy of her own room and the welcoming smiles from every Weasley.
The 4th years resided in the room under Charlie's, and on nights where she couldn't sleep, or was reading another one of Jean's letters, she heard Harry's distressing whimpers and occasional groans.
Today, the day they had all been waiting for, was why Hermione had smacked her with a pillow.
"Get up you lazy bum!" Hermione's shrill voice was like nails on a chalkboard. "Molly's made us breakfast and we're leaving within the hour."
"I'm up, I'm up…" Eliza mumbled, rubbing her worn eyes and glaring at the 4th year with malice. "Anything else you need?"
Hermione huffed and made for the door. "Don't go back to sleep, I mean it."
Eliza snorted as she let the door slam shut, falling back into the warm bed with ease.
Breakfast was a quick affair; Molly had made a mountain of eggs and toast— swatting Fred's hand when he tried to sneak Ron some type of exploding something or other—and Eliza had kept small talk with Arthur Weasley, inquiring about how exactly they would be arriving at the Quidditch World Cup. He had given her a sly look but kept his mouth shut, scrambling down the rest of his breakfast, urging the others to do so.
"Alright," Arthur started with a grin. "Is everybody ready? We can't come back if anyone's forgotten something."
Eliza's bag was light; they hadn't needed to bring much. A few changes of clothes, a handful of galleons in case there were hats for purchase, and of course, some food to crunch on during the game. This was Eliza's first, and she was excited.
The rest of the Weasley's marched from the Burrow—Harry and Hermione included, and followed a golly Arthur Weasley, his head held high and a smile perched on his lips.
Fred slid up next to Eliza, "I hear we're taking a Portkey," he whispered, raising those joking brows at her surprised face, and George popped up on her other side, "He's wrong, I heard we're walking there. Hope you brought good shoes."
"I assume your father hasn't told either of you how we're getting there?"
They both looked shocked, "We just said so."
She laughed whenever they spoke at the same time, "Well let's see which one of you is right."
The group of eight were passing a large tree when Arthur waved his hand up, stopping everyone in their tracks. They all waited, Ron briefly muttering 'maybe it's in the tree', to which Hermione elbowed his side rather harshly.
The eldest Weasley gave a joyous yell as two striding figures came into view, skyward down with bright smiles as they landed on green grass.
Arthur rushed forward to shake hands with the older of the two, "Amos! I was beginning to wonder if you'd gone ahead without us." He turned to the younger, taller boy. "And you must be Cedric."
Eliza watched Cedric shake Arthur's hand, noting he looked only a year or two younger than her, yet stood at least two heads taller. He looked nice enough, his brown hair styled so it rested with just enough fringe to cover, and there was a rosy tint to his cheeks that made his pale skin all the more white.
His teeth were more prominent on the top row, a flat line of perfect little squares that made his smile brighter. Arthur urged the two Diggory's over and she gave him a charming smile when his eyes met hers, shaking his hand as everyone else had. He held her gaze for a moment longer before releasing and stepping back to his father.
Arthur led them once more; the trees finally breaking up ahead to show off a cliff that showed off a marvelous landscape that had Eliza wishing she could never look away. There was nothing like this in London, and she took a moment to breathe in the fresh air.
"It's nice, isn't it?" came from Cedric, who'd strolled up to her side. "I've never used a portkey before. Have you?"
She shook her head, and then, she spotted the portkey in question. It was a musty old boot at the top of the hill, and she asked, "It's this?"
Cedric smiled, "I've heard it feels like you're being squeezed through a narrow tube. Similar to apparating, but less magic involved."
"Less magic? I'm fairly sure touching an enchanted boot is as magical as it gets." She chuckled.
When the rest of the party joined the stand around the boot, Harry asked why they were standing around a mangy old boot, and Arthur explained what was to happen.
"Now everyone, make sure you have a good grip." She gave Cedric a curious look while grabbing the tongue of the boot. Harry was the last one to grab on, taking hold of the heel as the portkey activated, sending the group into a whirling tornado. Untrue to Cedric's words, it felt more like a pressure was trying to squash her into a bug.
She was vaguely aware of Arthur telling them to let go, and a scream left her lips when she did just that, soaring out of the whirlwind she'd been swinging through, grunting as the ground came all too soon. It took a moment for her sight to clear up, and was grateful when a pair of arms lifted helped her up.
"A nasty fall there, you alright?" Cedric looked concerned. His eyes reminded her of Remus, but she shook those away, nodding to the other boy that she was indeed fine.
"We're off my boy!" Amos called over Cedric, and he met her gaze once more, "See you later, alright?"
She nodded and watched him leave. The sound of fireworks and loud cheers had her turning to the throes of tents and enthusiastic fans, eagerly running to follow a certain elder Weasley who was waving her over.
It took a little bit to find somewhere to set up, and Eliza was curious as to how all of them were supposed to fit in one itty bitty little tent. It never even crossed her mind that it was an enchanted tent, but seeing as there were hundreds upon hundreds of wizards present, it would make sense for it to be bigger on the inside.
"Hurry up, Eliza! Pick your bunk before Ron steals all the blankets!"
"I do not!" Fred and George laughed and she marveled at the inside of the tent, not really knowing much to say. She was vaguely aware of Harry walking in behind her.
"I love magic." They turned to each other with wide eyes, having spoken the same words. Hermione and Ron moved past them and she saw an opportunity, "Harry, I was wondering, could I maybe talk to you tomorrow? Or tonight, after the game?"
He looked slightly confused and leaned in with a soft voice, "If it's about Sirius or-"
But she cut him off with a head shake, "No, nothing like that." He nodded and she went on, "I just wanted to talk to you about something. It's not bad I swear."
He looked reluctant but nodded, cheeks taking on a suspiciously rosy tint. Instead of responding, he nodded again and walked over to Ron, who was telling his brothers to get their feet off the table, Ginny off in the corner rolling her eyes at her idiotic brothers.
Eliza liked the youngest and only female Weasley, though hoped she would not grow to be as loud as her brothers.
It was a long way up to their seats; the stands were as tall as the skyscrapers that rarely littered London, and walking up them was really putting a sweat in her back. "Blimey Weasley, how far up are we?"
Arthur shot her a bright smile as he continued to trail up the endless rows of stairs. She was lucky that a small booth had been selling hats, and it protected her sensitive curls from any mist or rain.
"Any higher up and we'll be in the clouds," joked Fred, and everyone agreed.
"Wouldn't be a surprise; not all of us can sit with Cornelius Fudge." Eliza wanted to growl like a dog as the slimy voice of Silas echoed through her ears, and even worse, the pale blonde hair of the Malfoy's came into view.
Lucius Malfoy was a snake, and his son was no better, and it was no shock that Silas was with them.
"Let's just say, if it rains, you'll be the first to know." The 7th year refused to even acknowledge him and made to turn away, wanting to be in her seat already, but a solid hand wrenching her own palm back had her frozen.
It was a strong grip, and a shout from Harry had the cruel fist of Lucius Malfoy pulling away. He looked like a rotten stench had penetrated his nose, but she was quick to catch the ways his eyes darted to the hand he'd grabbed before strutting away, his son and Silas following after.
"Are you okay? Should I get Mr. Weasley?" She shook her head and stuffed the hand he'd grabbed into her pocket, whatever he'd given her staying hidden from sight and ready to be seen when alone.
The two of them made their way to their seats up top, greeting the rest of the Weasley's with ease.
"Everything all right?" Arthur gave her a concerned look that she waved off, standing and cheering when the team sporting Irish colors flew in, a dancing Leprechaun appearing in their wake. It was amazing to watch, and the music was loud while the screams of all the fans fueled her own even more.
The Irish festivities lasted for a few minutes, and then the music changed to a much darker and rougher sound, a heavy beat echoing through the field as the Bulgarian team flew in. She wasn't all that aware of Quidditch players, or really how to play the game, and nudged Harry to see if he knew who the player was that was being projected on a magical screen.
Harry shrugged, but the crowd chanted "Krum! Krum!" so she assumed that was the star player. They had their introduction much like the Irish, and then Ludo Bagman took to the front of the high box, wand at his own throat,
"Good Evening! It gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the 442nd Quidditch World Cup. Let the match…begin!"
Eliza lounged on her bunk bed above Ginny Weasley and chuckled as Fred and George taunted Ron about his love for the famous Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum. "There's no one like Krum; he's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist!"
Fred and George danced around him, singing, "Viktor, I love you, Viktor I do!"
Even Harry joined in, "When we're apart, my heart beats for you!" They all joined in on the laughter, though quieted down, as the noise outside the tent grew louder and more chaotic.
"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on." Fred snickered at his comment, turning as Eliza sat up in her bed, muttering, "That doesn't sound like the Irish…"
The small note that Lucius Malfoy had slipped in her hand felt like a weight in her pocket. When no one was around she could open it, if it is who I think it is, no one can know.
Before Eliza could lean back and join in on the joke, Arthur Weasley burst into the tent. "Stop! It's not the Irish. We've must get out of here. Now!"
Harry, Eliza, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley's left the tent, faltering at the sight of burning tents and screaming wizards. There were people firing spells, some twirling in the air, others covered in black coats with silver masks. Death Eaters, she knew.
"Everyone," Arthur commanded. "Get back to the Portkey!"
Fred and George, along with a fearful looking Ginny ran away from the threat that was moving forward, and Eliza watched in shock as Harry ran towards the flames.
"Harry!" She yelled, quickly turning back to Hermione and Ron, "I'll get Harry, get to the portkey. Now!"
They nodded and fled, leaving Eliza to run against the crowd, trying to find Harry Potter.
Quick thinking was the only thing keeping her alive; green spells came for her head and went soaring right past, setting tents ablaze. There was chaos around her as bodies ran in complete disarray, and she watched as some people were actually hit with spells, falling to the ground and lying still.
A handful of Death Eaters in full robe and mask were setting fire to the tents, and causing general mayhem. The thought that maybe one of them could be her parents was gone in a flash, as another spell was a shot her way, barely moving out of the way in time.
She turned, seeing a Death Eater, fully robed and masked, watching her.
She bolted, pushing past people and avoiding spells that would no doubt have her as dead as the bodies surrounding her. Their steps were fast but so were hers, still keeping an eye on the surrounding destruction as the figure grew closer, wand at the ready.
From the side, a body crashed into her and they both went down, kicking up dust in the air. There was no time to look at the perpetrator as a harsh kick to her skull had the world turning black.
Hands shook her shoulders, pushing away the dreamless sleep she'd fallen into, and the worried face of Harry Potter stared back.
His breath was puffing in her face, "Are you alright? I thought…" He gulped and helped her up.
It was deserted all around them; tents were burnt to a crisp and a few bodies littered the ground. The smoke had finally cleared from the air, but the two of them were alone.
She turned on him with a ferocious snarl, "What the bloody hell were you thinking? You could've been killed. Those were Death Eaters, Harry, and they would've done anything to get their hands on you."
He looked ashamed, "I.. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. We should've all stayed together. I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I really am."
She kept a hard look but nodded, looking around, eyes squinting to try and see if anyone was around. "Are we alone?"
He nodded while doing the same, both of them eventually starting to move in the same direction. Eliza came to an abrupt halt when the crunching of burned wood entered the air, turning sharply with a deep breath.
"Do you hear that?" She whispered and he nodded once more, turning to look over her shoulder.
She did the same and put Harry behind her, trying to hide her fear as a tall man stood in the distance, coat billowing around his shoulders. The two teenagers stood still, not knowing if running was really the best option, and something in Eliza said that this was no friend.
It was hard to make out a face in the dark, only seeing a brown fringing hair that desperately needed a cut.
It was an electric shock to her core when the man started for them, pushing Harry and yelling, "Go!"
The 4th year stumbled but ran, not looking back at Eliza, who reached for her wand and stood her ground. There wasn't even a moment to cast a spell as he yelled one of his own, ropes wrapping around her legs and dropping her to the ground, hands scrambling to untie them as he grew closer.
"Stupefy!" Her aim was abysmal and he dodged it with a loud laugh, finally standing before her with a staunchly grin. She tried to squirm away, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins as the unknown man stood before her, licking his lips in a nervous twitch.
He knelt before her, holding eye contact and laughing when tears pooled in her eyes. "How I've missed you."
His hands were too strong and he pulled her up, pushing off any feeble attempts to throw him off balance. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, trying to push him away, but he overpowered her. "I think you'll enjoy this."
She watched in horror as he grabbed her wand, hissing like a snake when she tried to stop him, and turned to the sky. "Morsmordre!"
A green bolt of light shot from the tip of her wand, exploding in the sky and taking the shape that had tears streaming down her face. It was the Dark Mark; the horrific skull with a snake slithering from the gaping screaming mouth.
He watched with fascination, licking his lips, and she took the moment of distraction to punch him in the cheek, smirking when he went down and let go of her wand.
It was a trial to stand as the man stood himself, spitting blood from his mouth with a smirking grin as Eliza effectively unwound her legs. She stood with her wand pointed at his chest, ready to spell him with a fiery rage… but she paused, "Who the hell are you?"
He had the gall to look offended at her question.
"Shame on you Elizabeth. We're practically family." He contemplated simply taking her, but his task was complete for tonight.
"We will meet again." He disappeared just as another 'Stupefy' left her lips, breath coming out in huffs that turned the air white. She leaned over, hands on knees and tried not to vomit as the rush of fear and anger ran to her throat.
She'd never felt so weak before, so unable to protect herself. You're weak, she cursed herself, and you should've killed him when you had the chance. She had to assume he was a Death Eater who had stayed behind to prove that this was their doing, and he had never intended to find her or Harry.
She stood tall and screamed the 4th year's name, running the way he had gone, not caring if any other Death Eaters were still lurking. A lone cry of her name had her stopping and running into the arms of Arthur Weasley.
He held her close, observing her dust and dirt covered for, frowning at the tear tracks on her face. "What's happened?" he asked, voice laced with concern.
"Stand aside!" Arthur turned with her in his arms, watching Barty Crouch Sr. run forward, black cubed moustache a dominating feature on his face. "Did you conjure this?"
She shook her head but he ignored it, "Do not lie! You've been discovered at the scene of the crime."
"She's barely an adult Barty, you know none of them could've cast that."
Harry asked what crime had been committed, to which Hermione told him just who's mark it was. "Those people tonight, in the masks…they were his followers weren't they?"
Eliza gave him a hard nod as Barty ordered them to follow him but Eliza stopped him with a hand on his arm, "There was a man here tonight, he was one of them, I'm sure of it."
Barty raised a brow before turning to Harry, "Did you see him?"
He shook his head and Barty frowned before continuing to walk away. Arthur turned her to him and asked in a hushed voice, "Did you know him?"
She wanted to say no but just shook her head, wishing she knew why he'd known her name. Arthur gave a grim look and led her after Barty and the group of 4th year, not giving into the urge to take one last look at the horrific sky.