AUTHOR'S NOTE! This chapter has been heavily modified, so please reread for continuity!
Enjoy!
The seat shook beneath her weight as the train trailed along the tracks, huffing smoke that billowed to the sky. It was a clear day out, and the sun shined bright through the black smoke.
Arthur had been kind enough to drop the four of them off at the platform, and Eliza had taken a cart room to herself, waving along Hermione, Ron and Harry to their own. The lock had clicked in place before she'd taken her seat, and no one had knocked to occupy the seat across.
And now the sea passed by in a blur, passing by her eyes at a speed she could hardly see. Watching the calm blue normally cleared her mind of any stress, but it wasn't so simple this time. Her nails were short and bitten, no color having donned them in months, and her curls were tamed in a tight bun that pulled back her scalp.
She tried not to pick at the loose threads of her worn jeans, wishing she could think of anything other than the night of the Quidditch World Cup. Nightmares had plagued her thoughts, and visions of the Dark Mark flashed behind her eyes like a moving picture she hadn't paid to see.
Arthur had worried for her, Molly rubbing her cold cheeks the night they'd returned, and truthfully, Eliza was glad to be away from it all. The silence was peaceful.
Knuckles hitting glass shocked her, and she turned to see Cedric Diggory waving behind the locked door. He mouthed 'let me in' and pointed to the door handle, to which she begrudgingly reached over and undid the latch, tight lipped smiling at Cedric, who eagerly entered with a wide smile.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," he smiled and sat in the seat across.
"I heard about what happened at the World Cup. Are you… are you alright?" he tried to give her a genuine smile, "I know better than to trust the likes of Rita Skeeter."
She didn't want to burden him with her troubles and simply gave a soft smile, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I'm fine. I think it was worse for Harry."
"Why?" Cedric asked.
"Someone that young shouldn't have to face death and misery, but he has. And even if people don't want to talk about it, we can't ignore what it means." He's coming back, she nearly said, but had he ever left?
"You're right," Cedric said. "My Father said the Ministry has been in a panic since Crouch returned. They sent Aurors to try and find the Death Eaters, but they left nothing behind. They're trying to keep it quiet, but like you said, we can't ignore it."
"It's easier to ignore it than face it head on. I've found that people twice our age like to pretend that bad things aren't there, hoping they'll go away."
"You don't have to pretend with me," Cedric smiled. "I believe you."
She nodded, turning to look out the window.
An awkward silence encompassed them in a suffocating air; Eliza nervously tapping her fingers on the soft cushioned seat while Cedric tried his best to meet her eyes. A few students passed by their closed door and Cedric waved with a bright smile as they passed. They weren't people Eliza had ever seen before, and it only furthered her desire to jump out of the window and swim away.
She'd fully expected him to leave, but he continued to defy the odds.
"How did you do on your O.W.L's last year?" Cedric inquired with a look of interest. It was an odd topic to bring up, seeing as he was a year under.
"I heard around that you passed Snape's with flying colors. I won't even be going near Potions when I choose mine this year."
She refused to tell him that Potions had been her last choice, and that she'd also passed Care of Magical Creatures with an Outstanding grade. It had been a shock to see the ominous 'O' next to Potions on her O.W.L. report during the summer.
"Believe me, I wasn't expecting Snape to pass me," she laughed with a smile. "I heard there was a year that he only passed one student."
"But he passed you." Cedric pondered aloud, "Strange, don't you think?"
"Not really." She shrugged. "I mean, I did the work and I was a good student, so, I guess you could say I deserved it. Wouldn't you?"
He looked to be at a loss for words, and tried to change the subject while his fingers wrung the material of his burgundy sweater. "Look, If the Cup hadn't gone the way it had, I would've wanted to spend some time with you. You seem like the type of person I could get along with."
"You barely know me, Cedric. We've talked once," she reminded him.
"I'd like to be your friend, Elizabeth. It's not a crime." His name sounded wrong on his lips. "And besides, we're in the same house. I think we can make time to get to know each other better. Don't you think so?"
Something sickly bubbled in her chest, and she wanted to claw it out. There was nothing wrong with having male friends, but is that all he wanted, or was there more he was after.
He was nicer than other boys, slightly prettier than other boys, though not that it really mattered, and seemed intent on gaining her trust. But if it was an innocent friendship, then why did it feel like a betrayal to Remus?
Her voice was strong with a shaky smile, "If I say yes, will you leave me alone?"
A full body laugh rang through the air, and she allowed a genuine smile to cross her face.
The whirring of the train continued as the two once again let silence encompass their surroundings, the black smoke billowing up into the sky.
Hogwarts hadn't changed in the slightest, though it was enough to point out that the weather had taken on the grim chill that came with September. Student's donned thick coats and warm caps, knowing the winter snow was soon to come.
The Owlery was located on the top of a grim standing tower that had owls flying in and out. Upon first glance, the stairway looked as though it was never ending and could wear down even the strongest most juvenile legs, which is why Eliza left Jean at the base before trekking up, sighing in relief once she reached the top.
As expected it was empty aside from a few snoozing owls that she made sure not to wake. Old stone bricks that had seen better days held the roof together, and the cubbyholes for the owls seemed to be falling apart. This tower must have been as old as Hogwarts itself, except no one had taken the time to restore it a bit.
Three letters donned her name—one in the cursive that belonged to Mara, and the other she recognized as Remus's—while the third was a mystery. Her nail gingerly ripped through the top seam of the envelope, pulling out the dusty sheet full of his handwriting.
My Darling Elizabeth,
There was something about him calling her darling that made her feel warm inside. But as her eyes continued down his writing, the smile fell from her face.
I'd initially planned to write this letter to ask how your trip to the Quidditch World Cup had gone, but the headline from the Daily Prophet has informed me of more than enough. I am beyond furious that such a thing happened, and that you were a part of it, and I hope that upon your next visit we may be able to discuss the events that transpired in detail.
He was making fair points, but her heart still stuttered in her chest at the prospect of him being furious.
Aside from that, I hope that you are getting settled into your final year at Hogwarts with ease. While I mourn the fact that I will not be teaching, a good friend of mind, Alastor Moody, will be taking my place as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He's a man I trust with my life and I do hope you trust him with yours. I'm unsure as to whether you will be taking his class, but I can guarantee that speaking to Dumbledore will land you in his class, if that is what you wish.
Lastly, I would like to ask something of you. The first Hogsmeade trip is coming up quite soon, and this would be a perfect time for us to be alone. Would you be willing to spend the day with me, Elizabeth?
I hope to hear from you soon, my darling.
Yours,
Remus
It was simple to picture his voice in her head, his arms around her waist as he softly whispered those sweet words into the crook of her neck.
"Are you almost done?" Jean hollered up the winding staircase, her tapping foot echoing off the walls. "It's chilly down here, you know!"
"Coming!"
The letter folded up nice and easy into her coat pocket, and she held the other two and flew down the stairs with a breathtaking smile, shocking the shivering Jean.
"What happened up there? Wait, let me guess." Jean pretended to think, "Was it a certain furry lover boy?"
The two left the run down tower and stepped out into the cold sunlight, strolling past Hagrid's hut and up the grassy hill, back into the Castle. It was surprisingly empty, aside from the few slackers in the Courtyard. The sun allowed for slight warmth to reflect in the halls, warming up the two girls.
"Can you believe it?" Jean exclaimed. "We're already in our last year. It feels like just yesterday we were first years. Soon enough we'll be done with all these and out into the real world. Having jobs and… I don't know, paying taxes?"
The two of them chortled at the prospect of their uncertain future, strolling past a few old portraits in the middle of a nap. Their dull-heeled school shoes clap against the stone floor, the high pitch echoing through the wall.
"It's crazy but it makes sense." Eliza nodded along. "It feels like we've been here forever. It'd be nice to have a new home for a change. Not that I don't like sharing a room with you and four other girls almost all year."
Jean pouted, "But then how will we ever live together in a little hovel in some attic in London?"
Eliza snorted as her friend rambled, "I can see it now; the two of us having adventures in the rain and living our best lives while the Wizarding World crumbles to pieces."
Eliza halted and gawked at her friend, "You almost sound like you'd rather leave behind magic once we're done with schooling."
Jean didn't back down, brows strong and lips pursed as her feet sped up, "And? Is that a bad thing?"
She let out a deflated sigh and slowed her pace, "I'm not saying that I don't like magic…I'm just saying that maybe it's something I won't always need."
"So, you'd be alright doing your dishes by hand and folding your own laundry?"
Jean smirked, "Yes, I would."
The doors of the Great Hall opened before them and they strode to their regular seats. Desmond had grown out his hair over the following summer; the once trimmed cut not thick and wavy locks that lingered on his forehead. Daisy had cut her long hair into something short of a bob, the ends of her locks just reaching her pointed chin. They changed their look up every little while, and Jean and Eliza—who never changed much, made sure to always point it out.
"I almost didn't recognize you both." Jean sat and wiggled her brows. "I think you two look absolutely lovely. "
Desmond gushed, "I know, I look amazing. That horrendous cut I had last year was the worst mistake of my life, and you two—" he jabbed two fingers across the table, "—let me walk around like that and I don't think I can forgive either of you."
"I'm guessing you don't remember the ponytail from 4th year." Eliza remembered with a grimace, "You basically cried when we offered to cut it for you."
Desmond gasped, "It was fashionable!"
Half of Hogwarts had snickered at his short ponytail that donned the back of his skull; one Slytherin even had the gall to tug on it during one of his Potions exams. Needless to say, he'd been trimming his hair ever since.
Jean snorted as she turned attention to the quiet Daisy, "You look really good, Daisy. Not too short, not too long. I like it."
Eliza interjected with a wink at Daisy, "Same here. It looks nice."
Mindless chatter started up between them, topics from how they spent their respective summers. Desmond had traveled with his father through Nova Scotia, and Jean had spent the summer trying—and failing, to help her father find a new job. Daisy had spent it with her Mother.
"Did you two find anything?" Eliza questioned her downtrodden friend, setting down the steaming Yorkshire pudding with two bites missing.
Jean nonchalantly shrugged, "No other department in the Ministry would even look at him. Arthur Weasley tried to offer him a position but the Minister overrode it."
She stabbed a bright green stem of broccoli, "We ran out of places to look in the Wizarding world after a few days but luckily, Arthur asked his eldest Charlie if he could help out. So now—"
"He cleans the stables for the dragons. Isn't that right?" Silas' slimy voice slithered into the conversation, her hair a stark change from that of the World Cup. The now dark locks hung down to her shoulders in a curtain over her ears, shimmering with every head swivel.
"My father saw him mopping up their shit at the last Dragon Match." Her words were knives in Jean's back. "A bit pathetic, isn't it?"
"No one asked you." Jean spat like a viper, "In fact, why don't you run back to your gang of psychopaths?"
Silas's dashing face morphed into a grotesque rage, and her hands planted on the brown table, nails digging into the old wood. "I'd watch how you speak to me," spittle flew from the Slytherins's lips, "I'd just love it if something untimely happened to your father."
"Enough."
The looming figure of Severus Snape appeared behind Silas like a being of death, scowling down at his own student with unhidden disgust. The regular black robes covered his form from neck to the ground, his hands delicately placed behind his back. The curtain of dark hair created a veil around his aging face, and Silas defiantly stared back, not cowering before her head of house.
Eliza watched the stare down between the two Slytherin's, not feeling a shred of remorse as Snape raised a brow with question.
"Unless your intention is to join the Hufflepuff House, I would advise you to return to your seat."
Silas looked like she wanted to talk back, but huffed and stomped away, muttering curses under her breath. Eliza turned to look up at Snape, nodding lightly in thanks, to which he silently strolled away.
Jean turned to her best friend with an incredulous look, "How did you ever think he didn't like you?"
"Shut up!" Eliza softly snarled, slapping her friend's shoulder and directing the conversation back to her friends.
Four letters were stuffed into the pocket of her skirt; the open and read one from Remus, the two that were unopened from Mara, someone who's handwriting she didn't recognize, and the Hogwarts letter that held her final year schedule. Sadly, since the events of last year, Care of Magical Creatures would no longer be a taught class. They needed a Professor that was more 'qualified' than Hagrid.
As a result, she'd been switched to Herbology with Professor Sprout, which had made her less than pleased. It wasn't that she hated the class, but working with plants and saplings was less than pleasurable. She wanted to try her luck convincing Dumbledore to switch her somewhere else; besides, it was the last year, he had to be slightly more lenient, right?
Standing before the Griffin, she gulped. Eliza had only been to the Headmasters Office, which was only accessible by Dumbledore's request, one other time. In second year, she had been requested to this office, and she'd received a right scolding for transfiguring Jean's head into that of a cats.
"I'd like to speak to the Headmaster, please." Her voice came out surprisingly confident.
The Griffin didn't move, only stating that to enter only those requested by Albus Dumbledore may enter.
"I'm aware of that," she said. "I shouldn't take more than five minutes of his time. Please.""
But the Griffin held its ground. "Only those requested by Albus Dumbledore may enter."
She breathed a sigh of agitation and scratched her forehead, not knowing how to get past the Griffin. Down the hall, a low voice yelled.
The floor trembled as a man the size of a tree trunk trudged down the dim hallway, one of his legs taking the brunt of every step. In his thick meaty grip was a tall thick wooden staff, one perfect for balance with a man such as he. He wore a thick black coat, and had thin blonde hair that had seen better days.
As he drew nearer, she took notice of his most terrifying feature. On his face was one real eye, and strapped across his head was an eyeball, one that looked her up and down, then stared, hard.
"What're you doing here, girl?" he grunted, standing tall in front of the Hufflepuff.
"I just wanted to talk to the Headmaster—"
He sneered down at her, the false eye twitching, "Then why in the blazes are you still out here? Loitering is a crime in some places."
"I wasn't loitering," she explained, trying not to shiver under his gaze. "I don't know the password. If I did, I wouldn't be out here."
His head jerked to eye the Griffin, and she vaguely heard him murmur something about 'stupid kids', but didn't comment as he stepped closer to the Griffin, staff digging into the floor.
The Griffin repeated, "Only those requested by Albus Dumbledore may—"
"Lemon Sherbet."
The spiral staircase to the Headmaster's Office began to turn, revealing the passage.
"Thank you so much," she said, turning to the glaring lumbering man. "Who are you exactly?"
He held out one thick hand and grunted, "Alastor Moody, at your service."
The Alastor Moody from Remus's letter, she remembered. If he was a friend of Remus, he was someone she had to trust.
"I'm Elizabeth Jones." He grunted while she gave a tight-lipped smile. "I'd love to chat but—" she motioned to the spiral staircase, "I really wanted to speak to the Headmaster."
"Fair enough." He tapped his staff with a grunt, "I'll be seeing you, Jones."
The floor shook as he stalked away, and she fled up the Griffin's steps.
Inside, the Headmaster's Office was wide and open, large portraits of old headmaster's donning the walls, bowls of strange sweets lingering on tabletops, glass doors that hid bookshelves- at least, she assumed they were- and on the raised portion of the office floor sat Dumbledore, and before him, sat Snape.
"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm so sorry, I can leave."
Snape turned in a flurry of black cloth, staring hard with thin lips in a hard line. His hair had grown longer over the summer, the tips now hanging to his shoulders. But aside from that, he still donned his dark cloak and signature sneer. Some things never change.
Dumbledore smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "Nonsense, my dear. As it is, Severus and I were nearly done." He waved her forward, "What is it you've come to discuss?"
"I wanted to ask you if I could possibly change one of my classes, Headmaster." She pulled forward the letter containing her schedule. "I have nothing against Professor Sprout, but I'm not particularly fond of Herbology."
Snape grunted, making no move to leave.
"And how am I to remedy this?" Dumbledore asked.
"Since this is my last year here, and I know that seventh years are meant to take higher levels of their previous years classes, I just hoped that I could possibly be moved to a class that I hadn't been in before." She wrung her hands.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Divination or… Defense Against the Dark Arts." She nearly slapped herself for saying Trelawney's class. Anything was better than sitting and staring into crystal balls all day.
"Hm," Dumbledore said. "And If I'm correct, your only other time dedicated to classes would be with Severus, yes?"
She nodded, shooting a small smile to the grim faced Potion's Professor at her side.
"I've had the luck of knowing only a few students to pass under the teaching of Severus. Even I did not excel in Potions, but the few who have, have gone on to be some of the greatest wizards of our time. However, the path that follows with the darker arts is one less taken. It would bring me great pleasure to see you thrive under the care of Severus. Perhaps, one day, you could take his place."
She smiled and shook her head, "That's very kind of you, Headmaster, but I've a long way to go."
"Not if you took a position following your graduation," Snape added with a dull tone. "There is one open at the moment."
"I…" She gulped, nearly stuttering. "I'd have to think about it, Professor. But thank you for the opportunity."
Dumbledore clapped his hands together, smiling at the Hufflepuff. "Then it's settled. You're to be removed from Herbology, and your only commitment will be under Severus' care. I don't think you'll have a problem finding something to do with your newfound freedom."
She nearly jumped for joy, grinning with full teeth at the Headmaster. This was beyond what she'd wanted; only half her week would be inside the dungeons with Snape, and the rest belonged to her. Perhaps keeping in touch with Remus would be more likely than she thought.
"Thank you so much, Headmaster. I won't forget this." She turned to Snape and nodded, skirting out of the office.
Once neither man could hear the young girls footsteps, Dumbledore sighed, "Severus, please-"
"You're a fool, Albus," snarled Severus. "You know she'll run into the foul mutt's arms. He should've been put down when we had the chance."
"And where would that have left us? To destroy either of them would drive the other mad. You'd condemn her to a life in Azkaban. Perhaps your old friend, Greyback, could keep her company."
"I'd never allow harm to come to her, you know this."
"Do I, Severus?" Albus asked, leaning forward with his hands planted firmly on his desk. "I understand you made a vow with her Mother to protect her at all costs, but Remus Lupin is not our enemy. We both know the World Cup was just the beginning. His followers were not as small as we thought."
"As you thought," Severus corrected. "Lucius is not one to take lightly, nor his son, Draco. Their loyalty for the Dark Lord has not faltered."
"And I would suspect your loyalty to the light has not either. I trust you and your judgment, Severus, but you cannot be blind to reason. Your hatred cannot guide you."
Severus abruptly shot out from his chair, marching for the door.
"Do not turn your back on her, Severus." Albus called out, "She'll need you to guide her, when no one else can."
The Headmaster sighed as his friend stormed down the spiral staircase.