"Hello, Sirius."
That voice. Like something out of a dream, yet so earthy and real he could almost reach out and touch it.
Sirius could not respond. His tongue felt numb and detached from his control, and his throat was painfully dry.
The smile had faded from her face now, and in its place was that cool marble mask she slipped on with such ease. Usually, as Sirius had learned, the calmer the surface, the wilder her emotions stormed beneath. At least, that had been the case when he'd known her before. Sirius had never seen her face so devoid of expression.
"Kl…Klara…you're…how…?" It was several heavy seconds before he found his tongue. His scratchy voice was still full of disbelief, though his rational mind had now accepted that yes, it really was her, standing before him, fifteen years since he'd last lain eyes on her. Since he'd wiped her memory, replaced her identity, and made sure she left Britain entirely.
Right.
Now dread was rapidly overcoming the relief and elation that had accompanied his first glimpse of her. He was surprised, really, that she hadn't pulled out her wand and attacked him right there—he would not fault her in the least—but then again, that was not her way.
Questions swarmed in his head, but before he could snatch one out of the tangled mass, he heard a sucking sound to his left. The tense air between them seemed to evaporate.
He and Klara both turned their heads. Remus had gathered all the oat biscuits he'd dropped back onto their tray, and he and Dumbledore seemed focused on siphoning off the dust and carpet fluff they had gathered.
Sirius cleared his throat.
Both looked up. He felt them studying his face, then Remus turned and said,
"Well, you have no idea how glad I am that you're not dead, Klara."
Klara smiled back at him, her features thawing for a moment.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, also beaming. "I am certain, Miss Montagu, that all the Order members who once knew you will be elated you have returned to us, though I expect they will react quite as Remus did. Many of us assumed the worst, as you can imagine."
"Thank you, Professor. And—" Her eyes flicked back to Sirius for an unreadable moment, though Sirius could have guessed at the accusation. "I am sorry. For all the worry."
Dumbledore looked about to respond, but just then, the doorbell rang with a muffled "ding!" Instinctively, Sirius tensed, and sure enough, before the bell had died, his mother's shrieks broke through the still house.
"WHO DARES DISTURB THE HOUSE OF MY NOBLE ANCESTORS—"
The hallway outside the dining room exploded with voices. Sirius heard Moody's growl as he tried to wrangle the curtain back over the portrait, and other simultaneous conversations drifted in through the open doors.
"It appears we are not the only early ones, Miss Montagu," said Dumbledore, and he started towards the hall as Remus moved to put the cookie tray at the centre of the table. Klara made to follow Dumbledore, appearing, as always, wholly composed despite the sudden uproar. Sirius managed to regain his senses.
"Klara, wait." Three heads turned to look at him. Sirius stared at a gash in the floorboards.
"I need—" he cleared his throat. "I'd like a moment, Dumbledore. With Klara. Can you start without us?"
"There's no need." It was Klara who responded, and she was pointedly not looking at Sirius either. "I am back for good, Sirius. If you need to say something, we will have plenty of—"
"No, Klara. Now. I need a moment." With great effort, feeling as if his eyes weighed a ton, he forced his gaze up to her face. Reluctantly, she met it.
"Please."
Her lips thinned. She had always hated being coerced into changing her mind, and she certainly made it clear she didn't want to be alone with him. Sirius knew it was with great difficulty that she didn't refuse again, but she disliked any display of emotion more than she stuck to her stubbornness. Perhaps fearing her own reaction, she seemed to prefer hearing anything he had to say in private. Sirius couldn't help his satisfaction that her acquiescence meant she was not wholly unaffected by seeing him again.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "Please do take your time Sirius, Miss Montagu. As I said, we are all early. We will enjoy those lovely oat biscuits in the meantime."
Sirius gestured to the opposite door. Stiffly, Klara preceded him across the hallway and into the darkened library he indicated. Sirius shut the door behind him. Before he could warn her, she had pointed her wand at the curtains. A cloud of dust engulfed half the room, threatening to swallow them both.
"Good Lord!" Klara waved her wand again, covering a sneeze in the sleeve of her cardigan. A second later, the dust dispersed, leaving only afternoon light casting beams on the moulding carpets.
"Sorry," breathed Sirius, waving a hand in front of his itching nose. "We haven't cleaned this room yet."
"I should hope not, the state it's in," she replied, surveying the dilapidated library and pointedly avoiding looking at him.
Sirius found himself chuckling, but she gave no indication she'd heard him. Finally, she turned to him.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"Sirius, you made rather a scene about speaking to me alone. What was so very urgent?"
Her face was still and devoid of expression, and the light bouncing off her cheek made her glow like a marble statue. Though Sirius was sure she'd never looked at him with this stony stillness in the past, seeing her familiar features now, he could almost imagine that no time had passed.
Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. He hadn't really needed to say anything specific to her.
Well, actually, that was not true. He had a great many things he wished to say, as well as do, the least of which might have been to clutch her to him and beg her forgiveness so he would never have to be without her again.
But even at his most baffled, Sirius was not fool enough to do anything of the sort. This was Klara, it had been fifteen years, and if he opened the floodgates to his fears and hopes and love, he didn't think he would be able to stop his emotional outburst. And in her anger, he doubted she'd have the patience for any of it. In fact, even when she wasn't angry, he doubted she'd have the patience for it—not if all that feeling was directed at her. He had seen this withdrawal in her, and he'd never tried to burden her with his innermost emotions. It would only have scared her.
In the dining room, he had simply needed more time to stare at her, to drink her in undisturbed. Now he scrambled to find a suitable question.
"I only wanted to know how you broke my charm," he said, barely above a whisper and making sure to avoid her eyes. "It was rather strong and well-polished." He tried for a teasing smile, but at the tightening in her jaw, could only manage a grimace.
Her lips thinned again.
"Yes, it was," she said. Her voice, too, was stony smooth and devoid of emotion. "I'd have never noticed a charm was in place if Silas Nott hadn't come to my home trying to kill me."
It as if someone had pulled the floor from beneath his feet.
"Silas Nott what?"
"He was waiting in my apartment one—"
"How the hell did Nott know where you were? How did he find you?" Sirius had his hands in his hair now, pacing and looking at her in horror. Nott had found her? How was that even possible? He'd put a whole slew of disillusionment and disassociation charms on her new name. No one should have been able to locate her unless they knew to look for a Caroline Müller in Vienna.
"How did he even know to look?! How did he know your other name?!" He was yelling now, but Sirius didn't care. Delayed fear and dread were clawing up his chest, and he could feel cold sweat prickle his back. He could have lost her—she could have been tortured or killed—and he wouldn't have known a thing.
"Oh, Merlin, Klara," he said, face in his trembling hands. "You know that I was trying to prevent just this from happening, don't you? Fuck, how could I have—"
"No, Sirius, I don't." He stopped. She so rarely interrupted anybody, but her low voice could always cut through the most vehement shouting. "I don't know what you were trying to do at all. How could I? You decided I didn't need to know a thing."
The irony that laced her voice was sharp and flinty.
Damn.
Amid the swirling mess of panic, fear and bafflement, it was guilt that won out. It cut through his chest, cold and damp and heavy. He almost whimpered at the sudden pang.
Sirius reached for her hand, unable to help himself. He wanted so desperately to anchor himself to her, to make her understand, even just a little, so she did not turn to stone right in front of him.
"Klara, I'm so—"
She slapped him.
His hand froze.
Sirius barely felt the sting. After a moment, he blinked down at her.
"I suppose I deserved that."
Her lips were a tight line, her eyes like cut glass. She averted her gaze.
"Don't do that," she whispered, eyeing the hand that had reached for hers. "And yes. You did deserve it."
Yet Sirius thought she looked more surprised than he felt at the blow.
When she looked back up at him, the brittleness in her features had softened. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he thought that her eyes seemed shinier than normal.
"Klara…"
"I don't wish to answer any more questions, Sirius. I've spent the entire morning doing that with Dumbledore. If you want answers, I suggest we return to the meeting."
She turned away, not waiting for his response. At the door, her fingers on the handle, she looked back over her shoulder.
"I know you're relieved I'm safe. Just as I'm relieved you're not out there running for your life. Or still in Azkaban. You could never deserve either."
Then she pushed open the door and glided out into the darkened hall.
O~O~O~O~O
Sirius had stayed glued to the carpet for some bewildered moments before he could fully comprehend what Klara had said. When her memory had returned, did she truly never believe…?
Not allowing himself to fully dwell on the hopeful possibility, he followed her back to the dining room, where Dumbledore was standing at the head of the table.
"Ah, and here she is now. Just in time, Miss Montagu."
He motioned for Klara to join him, his words drawing to the doorway the attention of all those seated around the table. There was a stunned pause, and then the room erupted in gasps and exclamations.
Sirius barely had time to think before he threw himself between Klara and a Mad-Eye Moody who had launched himself towards her, wand raised. He needn't have bothered, of course. She had already slipped to the other side of the table, completely unflustered. Naturally, she'd been expecting this sort of reaction, and if Sirius hadn't been so sure from first glance that this truly was Klara, he was certain he'd have reacted the same way.
"Please, everyone, take a seat and allow me to continue." Dumbledore's voice rose over the din, and after a flurry of robes and shocked mutterings, everyone returned to their seats. Moody still held his wand, however, and glowered at Klara, both eyes trained on her.
"She's either an imposter or she's betrayed us," Moody growled. "No one innocent is assumed dead for fifteen years and just shows up one day as if nothing happened."
Sirius' eyes widened, indignation swelling. He hadn't realised Moody had thought Klara a traitor, and in a flash, he was out of his seat again, his chair toppling behind him.
"Now wait a second, Mad-Eye, you can't just accuse—"
"Sirius, please. Sit down," Dumbledore cut in. Sirius felt a tug at his arm. He glowered at Moody, but after a moment fell reluctantly back into the chair Remus had righted for him
"Alastor, I assure you. Miss Montagu is neither imposter nor traitor. I will, I promise, explain the circumstances of her return in detail if you will allow me. Please."
Moody only nodded, though his expression did not soften. Klara looked unfazed. Smiling her quiet smile, she reached into her pocket and produced her wand, which she rolled across the table towards him.
"You can return it when you feel it safe to do so, Alastor."
Moody narrowed his eyes, but made no move to confiscate it. Sirius felt the corner of his mouth twitch, and beside him he heard Remus breathe a soft laugh.
"Wonderful," said Dumbledore. "Now then, as many of you know, this is Miss Klara Montagu, a member of the first Order of the Phoenix. Fifteen years ago, Death Eaters attacked her while she was with her muggle family. They burned their entire house to the ground. There were no bodies found, and officially it was put forth that there had been no survivors."
At this, Sirius heard several sharp intakes of breath from the new members, as well as choked sounds of recollection from those who were suddenly reminded of the precise circumstances surrounding Klara's "death."
From the depths of his own mind rose unbidden images, stained in horror, of the night he'd heard the news. Of the weeks he'd spent looking for her, dreaming of her dead form at his feet, refusing to beleive her gone Sirius dug his nails into his palms and tried to focus on the cadences of Dumbledore's voice. She was alive. She was safe. She was right here across the table from him. Get a hold of yourself. He tightened his fists, and the memories did not fly out of control in his brain.
"Of course, Miss Montagu did not perish with her family," Dumbledore continued. "When she was rescued, it was determined that it would be infinitely safer for her and more beneficial to our cause if she were to go into hiding, away from the potential reach of Voldemort."
Here he gave Sirius a piercing blue look, and Sirius realised that Dumbledore had decided it best not to broadcast the specific details of Klara's disappearance and rescue, or the fact that he, Sirius, had acted on his own and altered her memory. Just as well. He could imagine the way some Order members—Molly Weasley in particular—might look at him for weeks if they found out.
Dumbledore continued.
"Her muggleborn status and specific set of skills made her a particular target, even after the fall of Voldemort, and she has therefore been living under an alias in Austria for the past fifteen years. However, given the recent escalation of events, Miss Montagu has agreed to return to the Order once more."
"I did wonder…hope…rather foolishly I'd thought, but…"
Two seats down, Filius Flitwick, (who, until today, Sirius had not even realised was in the Order), was staring at Klara with a mix of delight and relief. Tears glistened in his eyes. He accepted a handkerchief from McGonagall, who was also dabbing her eyes, and Sirius was reminded what a teacher's favourite Klara had been at school. Even though she'd hung on the edge of failing Transfiguration every year, she'd somehow managed to remain in McGonagall's good graces and her NEWT class.
He'd teased her about it incessantly, always trying to get a rise out of her, but now Sirius couldn't remember a single Charms exam in which Klara hadn't come top of their class. Add to that her natural talent for duelling and her Ravenclaw tendencies, and she must have been Flitwick's dream student come true.
"Blimey, so you've been living as someone else for fifteen years?" Tonks piped in, eyes huge. "I would have slipped up in a day or two."
Sirius looked to Klara, and though her smile had faded as Dumbledore detailed her family's death, she managed to soften her face again as she turned to Tonks.
"It helped that no one knew my real identity, of course," she replied. "Were you in my circumstances, I'm certain you would have maintained the cover just as well."
Tonks still looked impressed, muttering something under her breath that garnered another whispered chuckle from Remus.
"You haven't said, Dumbledore, how you can be sure she is who she says she is." It was Moody again. "It has been fifteen years."
He was still glaring, though less malice showed on his scarred face, and Sirius saw that his wand was back in its holster.
"Ah, yes, of course. Just this morning, Miss Montagu obligingly opened her mind to Legilimency and shared with me some of our shared memories from her childhood. I then invited her to attempt Legilimency on me, and she determined the nature of my most recent knitting project in a matter of seconds, despite my very best efforts at Occulmency."
There were gasps from those who hadn't known Klara before, and Sirius felt a ridiculous surge of pride. It was said Voldemort himself couldn't penetrate Dumbledore's mind, but from the first time Dumbledore invited her to try, Klara had been able to slip past the headmaster's mental defences.
Dumbledore looked around the table at those who had been in the original Order, his eyes finally settling on Moody, whose face had lost its scowl altogether.
"I trust that I have convinced you? Unless, in the past fifteen years, there has appeared in the world another witch or wizard capable of breaking through my Occulmency shields, I'd say we have solid proof of Miss Montagu's identity."
With an acknowledging nod, Moody rolled her wand back to her, and Klara gave him another quiet smile.
The meeting moved on then, Dumbledore explaining about the Weasleys' moving in the following week, about guard duty shifts and precautions at both the Ministry and the Dursley's, and finally ending with reports on known Death Eaters still at large.
Sirius tuned in and out, his eyes fixed unabashedly on Klara, who, after meeting his eyes the first time, turned away and never looked his direction again. She had so shocked him before, standing in his decaying dining room like some flower growing out of a swamp, that he hadn't seen the inevitable changes time had left on her person.
Now he studied her face, noticing the little lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth that told him she had smiled often in the intervening years. Her eyes were deeper set, her eyelids even more heavily lidded than before, and her cheeks were thinner, making her single dimple appear even when she didn't fully smile.
Her mass of curly hair seemed darker now, and tamer, though golden streaks still caught the light when she moved. She had tucked her wand behind her ear liked she always did, but now she had it in her hand, absently twirling it between her fingers in that achingly familiar way as she listened to each member speak.
Gods, how Sirius had missed her. Those years in Azkaban had faded all the memories he'd held of her, but seeing her in the flesh, here again, mere feet away, had the effect of lifting the Dementors' fog.
Memories from their youth flashed through his mind, vivid and bright, made more beautiful by the view of her now, sitting before him, thirty-five and lovelier than he'd ever seen her. Sirius realised he hadn't felt this sort of elation since he'd thought, a year ago, that Harry was going to come live with him. And before that—well, it had been a long, long time indeed.
"Elphias?" said Dumbledore when the current updates had all been addressed. "I understand you must have nothing to add about your subject. Nonetheless, would you mind repeating some of your most important reports from the past three weeks? I think we could all use a reminder of the situation and movements of Silas Nott."
O~O~O~O~O
A/N about Legilimency as used in this story: Before you come up with a hundred questions about the plot holes surrounding Legilimency use in my story, I'd like to say that mind magic is going to be a pretty important part of my plot, and so I almost guarantee that your questions will be answered later on.
If you don't want to wait, however, here is my basic structure theory for how Legilimency works in the HP world in general. Yes, I made most of it up and some of the theories diverge from canon, but that is the point of this entire endeavour, isn't it?
There are two types of thoughts—current thoughts and memories. Current/top layer thoughts are essentially one's stream of consciousness.
There are two types of Legilimens—natural and learned. Of course, everyone who learns have to have some type of natural ability, but some people are just born like Queenie Goldstein. Natural Legilimens can read the top/current thoughts of minds in passing, without evening meaning to, but learned Legilimens must deliberately perform Legilimency in order to access anyone's thoughts.
There are two types of Legilimency—detectable and undetectable. Within these two categories, there are distinctions and subtleties.
With detectable Legilimency, the Legilimens will either use a wand and say the spell, in which case, duh, or they will simply enter the victim's brain. If the Legilimens is only reading the top thoughts, the victim will feel unease and anxiety, sense another presence in their minds, and sort of "know" that someone is invading their usually private thoughts. The Legilimens can also make their presence known by drawing up memories in a way that makes it clear to the victim they are having their brain messed with.
With undetectable Legilimency, the Legilimens will subtly enter the victim's mind and look at just the surface thoughts. Very practiced Legilimens would be able to coax thoughts to appear in the mind as if naturally, seeing deeper thoughts without alerting the victim to their presence.
Note that a practiced Occlumens will be much more sensitive to a Legilimens' subtle presence in their brain when their Occlumency shields are not up, and it is impossible to penetrate through erected Occlumency shields without being detected.
Though Legilimency is most commonly (and most easily) performed through eye contact, very practiced Legilimens (and those with born Legilimency ability) are able to access a mind without eye contact. A slightly less skilled Legilimens might need only a brief moment of eye contact to get into an unprotected mind. Once they're in, the victim can look away and the Legilimens will still be able to stay in their mind so long as they keep their eyes trained on the victim's head.
If one is not a natural Legilimens, it is nearly impossible to access a person's mind both undetected and without making eye contact, (Voldemort and Harry's connection notwithstanding.) When this is fleetingly possible for a very skilled Legilimens, they can usually only see the top layer/current thought of the victim, in the way of a natural Legilimens.
When inside a brain, a Legilimens usually looks for emotional threads to follow, as these usually lead to strings of related memories that may be relevant to the Legilimens' purposes. As Queenie tells Newt, people are easiest to read when they're hurting, meaning the closer to the surface one's emotions, the easier it is for a Legilimens to access the memories associated with this emotions.
Both natural and learned Legilimens have to specifically train to get around Occlumency shields. This requires a (sometimes natural) mental focus and flexibility that is different from natural Legilimency ability. When Snape is going on about "discipline" to Harry in OotP—yeah, that's sort of this.
If this little blurb was at all entertaining to you please lmk and I'd be happy to share my theoretical structure for Occlumency as well.