A.N.: Hi everyone! Another update.
Eldest of the Pleiades
Concerning Harry
Dumbledore started telling them a story, about a skinny, brave, neglected little boy who was collected by Rubeus Hagrid and reintroduced to the Wizarding world after a very long decade. A reasonably gifted, compassionate young boy with a flair for Quidditch and a fierce sense of loyalty; a boy who battled trolls he unwittingly locked in the girls' toilets with a classmate; became the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a century; searched the Forbidden Forest for injured unicorns, serving detention for transferring an illegal dragon hatchling to young wizards flying to a Romanian sanctuary; may have been responsible for Severus Snape catching fire during a Quidditch match; and together with his best-friends, battled through a series of frustratingly clever, creative tasks to confront a wizard possessed by Lord Voldemort…and thwarted him a second time…
And then came Harry's second year. Sirius was on the edge of his seat, staring at Dumbledore as if mesmerised, drinking in every word of Harry's escapades and adventures, stealing Arthur Weasley's enchanted Ford Anglia and flying it to Hogwarts, crashing into the Whomping Willow - it was the first time in nearly fourteen years Ellaria had heard her husband laugh.
"After your escapades, Mr Black, I've no doubt you find it amusing," McGonagall said shrewdly, eyeing Sirius, who flashed a wolfish grin at the Transfiguration teacher he had always respected above all the other professors.
"One detention and fifty points from Gryffindor, though, Professor - you've got soft," Sirius chided, teasing McGonagall, who raised an eyebrow. "You gave out far worse punishments to me and James and even we didn't dare flout the Statute of Secrecy."
"Only because you couldn't get your hands on a Muggle vehicle," Ellaria remarked, patting Sirius' knee gently. He flashed her an easy grin, then seemed surprised to realise it was her he was smiling at. "What happened after that, Professor?"
"There were attacks. First was Mr Filch's cat, Mrs Norris. She was found Petrified…" The Chamber of Secrets, a true myth, a legend passed down to anyone chosen to enter Slytherin House, was real. Ellaria jolted when Dumbledore told them that Harry was a Parselmouth: because of the scar across his forehead, he shared certain powers with Lord Voldemort. Ellaria narrowed her eyes on the professor, knowing but not bringing it up in front of the others that he was hiding something…something she suspected, after hearing the rumours that Harry felt pain whenever Lord Voldemort was angry, or close by…
Harry's friend, the Muggle-born, Hermione, had been Petrified; Sirius exclaimed at that, though he knew she had recovered without any permanent side-effects. There had been no deaths, but Fudge had carted Hagrid off to Azkaban - without any evidence whatsoever… Hagrid had been set up by Lord Voldemort while they were both still at school, to take the blame for the death of Myrtle Warren - Moaning Myrtle. Racial prejudice had gone against Hagrid, a thirteen-year-old half-giant outcast who collected monsters under his bed, especially when the finger was pointed by the upstanding, handsome young Head Boy, Tom Riddle…
It was twelve-year-old Harry who had discovered this. After a thousand years and ten times as many searches, Harry had figured out where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was, and battled the Basilisk that had lain dormant for a thousand years within it, to save Ginny Weasley, the younger-sister of his best-friend, who had been slowly but surely possessed by the diary she was pouring her heart into…the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle…Lord Voldemort…
Without even knowing what he was truly doing, Harry had destroyed Riddle's diary, using the fang of the Basilisk he had slain with the sword of Godric Gryffindor he had pulled out of the Sorting Hat.
Unwittingly, Harry had destroyed one of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes.
Sirius and Ellaria sat somewhat limply in their loveseat, heads aching from the tsunami of information Dumbledore was imparting: Something mingling deep pride, amusement and a touch of hysteria made Sirius' eyes dance the way Ellaria remembered, but he had reacted viscerally when Dumbledore told them Harry had almost died because of Quirrell, and that the next year, the Basilisk fang Harry had used to destroy the diary had in fact pierced his arm when he killed the snake, and would have died, a second time, had it not been for Fawkes and his miraculous tears.
Worse was that Dumbledore had allowed it all to happen - even, Ellaria suspected, encouraged it. There were details missing from the narrative that she knew instinctively Dumbledore didn't want attention drawn to - not in front of Madam Bones, or even in front of his highly-respected deputy, Professor McGonagall.
And then came the events of last year, following Sirius' escape from Azkaban. The details were shocking; Madam Bones sat with her mouth open and her monocle dangling over her robes. It was Sirius who told this story, mostly, filling in the details where Dumbledore had no first-hand knowledge. But what Dumbledore did know, he told, including the encouragement of the use of a Time-Turner to affect the outcome of a night that could have gone very wrong, and a true accounting of Fudge's reaction to the news that Sirius Black was innocent, the evidence - Peter Pettigrew, cursed and magically chained - drifting before his very eyes.
They barely touched on it but Sirius narrowed his eyes shrewdly when Dumbledore told them about Harry's rivalry with a Slytherin boy named Draco Malfoy. Harry's time at school seemed to be marked with ever more malicious bouts of bullying - which, more often than not, and to his credit, Harry managed to rise above. Sirius mentioned letters he had received from Harry over the last year, specifically when Ron Weasley wasn't speaking to him, when the school had turned on him, wearing Potter Stinks badges, Rita Skeeter making him miserable…
"Lucius Malfoy's son," Sirius said quietly, eyeing Dumbledore. He glanced at Ellaria. "That'll be Cissy's boy."
"He's a bright boy," Professor McGonagall said fairly, glancing at Dumbledore. "Second in his year only to Miss Granger. I think it does him some good, to strive to beat Hermione's marks. He'd languish in his own brilliance, otherwise…" She cast an imperious look at Sirius, who smirked at the floor. Troublemakers, yes, but hadn't he and James provoked each other to achieving excellence? The three of them, him, James, Remus, the brightest kids in the school, consistently the top of every class throughout their seven years at school. The number of detentions they received didn't change the quality of their classwork or written assignments…
"I believe the root of Mr Malfoy's antagonism toward Harry is the rejection of an offer of friendship," Dumbledore said sadly, shaking his head. "Sadly, Draco has not been helped by his upbringing…a shame…a very talented boy…"
"Talented? He sounds vicious," Ellaria frowned.
"Weren't we all, at that age?" Sirius said quietly, and she glanced at him. Sirius hadn't been known for his contrition; over a decade in Azkaban had changed his perspective. He was looking down at his hands, the muscle ticking in his jaw. He frowned at Dumbledore. "Malfoy's son really offered Harry friendship?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. Sirius pulled a face, almost startled.
"He must have had some nerve, to put himself forward," Ellaria murmured, reading Sirius' expression, "what with his family's values."
"Lucius and Cissy's son, friends with the half-blood who vanquished their beloved Dark Lord," Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. His lips twitched toward a smile. "I almost want to encourage Harry to pursue it, just to see the look on Cissy's face."
"It will be a stretch, but it may be advantageous to all involved," Dumbledore said, which made the smile disappear from Sirius' face, perplexed.
"I was joking, Dumbledore."
"After what we saw in the graveyard, we know Lord Voldemort has already been making his plans," Dumbledore said heavily. "The Dementors, giants… He wishes to rebuild his strength; and his Death Eaters now come with that most valuable commodity - heirs to his cause. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy - these are all names of students currently studying at Hogwarts. Those men in the graveyard tonight would do anything Voldemort asks of them, to save their own lives… And what could be more advantageous to Lord Voldemort but to place his youngest, his fiercest warriors amongst impressionable, frightened children."
"Their children, Professor?" McGonagall balked, paling. "Their own children, offered up like lambs?"
"As we saw in the Pensieve…I believe Voldemort would no more think of his loyal followers' children than he would their house-elves," Dumbledore sighed grimly. "Except, perhaps, to exact an excruciating revenge upon their parents for their failures and disloyalty. We saw how his faithful Death Eaters cowered before his wrath in the graveyard…we saw how Pettigrew's loyalty was rewarded…their choices have been made, were made long ago… If we are to be successful in combating Lord Voldemort this time, preventing him from ever gaining the same stranglehold of terror he had last time…we must prevent as many from joining him as possible… After what has happened between them, I find it doubtful Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy will ever become bosom companions - "
"But it just might save Malfoy's life," Sirius interrupted darkly, his eyes on the Pensieve but far away, unfocused. He was thinking of the brother he had abandoned.
"Professor Dumbledore, we'd have more success dancing the tango with one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts than getting those two boys to have a civil conversation," McGonagall said baldly, and Dumbledore's beard twitched.
"Perhaps," he chuckled softly. He glanced at Madam Bones. "Amelia, you've been very quiet."
"Why hasn't the Ministry been informed of all of this?"
"It wasn't necessary for the Ministry to be informed of what occurred at Hogwarts under my supervision," Dumbledore said plainly. "Harry Potter has ended up in scrape after scrape, yes…"
"But only because you let him end up there," Ellaria said quietly, and Dumbledore nodded his head.
"Harry and Lord Voldemort have been inextricably linked since the beginning," Dumbledore sighed. "More so, after this evening, than ever before. Voldemort met his downfall when he marked Harry out as his rival; I wished to allow Harry to test himself, to truly learn what a wizard is capable of, what he has it in himself to be, beyond Potions assignments and Quidditch practice. Mr Fudge was informed of all that occurred regarding the Chamber of Secrets; still, Mr Malfoy roams free, while Rubeus Hagrid has yet to receive a formal apology and pardon for being, putting it bluntly, one of the earliest and unacknowledged victims of Lord Voldemort. Last June, when the truth was revealed about Sirius' innocence, Mr Fudge cared only to make a quick and morally deplorable resolution by sending a Dementor to seek out and destroy Sirius' soul, for the embarrassment he had caused the Ministry… And you saw how he reacted to the truth of Lord Voldemort's return… I did not inform the Ministry, my dear Madam Bones, because I place no faith in its desire or ability to offer protection or affect change based on the information disseminated."
Madam Bones sighed heavily. Ellaria caught Sirius' eye briefly, and even McGonagall looked chastened, as if they had all been brought up before Dumbledore for wrongdoing.
"And now, Professor?"
"Now… Now Lord Voldemort has returned to a tangible body," Dumbledore said. "This nation is about to become paralysed with terror at the very idea. We few who witnessed Harry's memories are privileged to the information of his plans. We few here can do all in our power to ensure Regulus Black's sacrifice was not in vain. Regulus was the first to discover Voldemort's greatest vulnerability." He looked solemnly at Sirius, whose eyes were glittering as he gazed determinedly at the rug at their feet.
"Piece by piece, we can destroy Voldemort," Ellaria said quietly. "Rather than ignore the danger, we can be proactive, acknowledging the threat - and reassuring people that we are on the offensive this time. That we will not cower, that we will fight to the death to destroy him - because he can be destroyed."
"But - Madam Bones - it is imperative that no-one outside of this office knows the truth about Voldemort's weakness, his Horcruxes."
"Horcruxes? You think there are more, Dumbledore?" McGonagall blurted, looking stricken. Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I do believe so, Minerva. As Ellaria said, Voldemort was bragging this evening in the graveyard… But most importantly, should Voldemort realise we know his secret, it will become infinitely more difficult to track down and destroy the pieces of his soul," Dumbledore said, gazing inscrutably at Madam Bones, who nodded slowly. At length, she sighed.
"Term will end soon," Madam Bones said. "I'd been looking forward to afternoon-teas with my niece and nephews… Perhaps Potter would do better to stay here this summer, at Hogwarts."
"No," Dumbledore said, with finality. "Harry must return to his aunt in Little Whinging."
Ellaria glanced at Madam Bones, at Sirius, who looked like he wanted to argue, his eyes narrowed on the headmaster; subtly, she placed a hand on Sirius' thigh, and he glanced at her, understanding the look she gave him. Bide your time... "It's Lily's blood… She died to protect him, it's…ancient and complicated magic - magic Voldemort has only contempt for, otherwise he would never have dared take Harry's blood tonight…"
"Until Harry is of age, he must return to Little Whinging," Dumbledore said placidly, and Ellaria increased her grip as Sirius tensed beside her. "Lily's murder, her sacrifice to protect her son, allowed for ancient magic to be evoked, protecting Harry. He must return to his aunt, his mother's sister, to strengthen this magic. Harry is protected by Lily's sacrifice."
"Very well, then, but, Dumbledore, we will meet again to discuss alternative protection for the summer," Madam Bones said sternly. "Obscure old magic is all very well, but we need eyes on him, if everything you've told us is accurate - which I fear it is, after what Susan's told me about being classmates with Harry Potter."
"Mr Potter has inherited his father's knack for landing in mischief and his mother's fierce devotion to fighting for what is right," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Naturally he missteps on occasion."
"Missteps…" Madam Bones snorted, glancing over at Sirius with a reproving look, as if Sirius had goaded Harry into everything. Ellaria had a brief, painful vision of the life Harry might have had; she felt entirely confident declaring that in actual fact Sirius would have encouraged Harry every misstep of the way.
Madam Bones shook her head and gave Sirius another look, this one stern, bordering on McGonagall-levels of quelling no-nonsense seriousness. "And I'll be chasing you for your testimony, Black, in full, and in excruciating detail…Mr Lupin, too… I do wish I'd been able to have a moment with him. Susan's favourite teacher, you know. The first Outstanding mark she ever received in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She still talks about his lessons…" Sirius smiled, proudly, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. He stood, and swept Madam Bones an elegant bow.
"Your servant, Amelia," he said, and Madam Bones grasped hands with Ellaria, McGonagall and Sirius before making her exit.
"Minerva… Might I ask that you, Filius, Pomona and Severus assemble the students in the Great Hall? It is late, yes, but necessary; as I said earlier, understanding is the first step in acceptance. Our students must know and appreciate the very great danger we are all in… Also… I regret that Durmstrang Institute is now bereft of a Headmaster. After what has happened, and what inevitably must come next, I would like you to invite the Durmstrang students into the castle. House them in Gryffindor Tower, if you please… Tell them that I shall be inviting them here to this office tomorrow… And, if Madame Maxime consents, her own students are welcome to sleep in Ravenclaw Tower; they shall also be invited here tomorrow."
"Very good, Albus," McGonagall said, sharing a look with the Headmaster. She turned, and fixed Sirius with the kind of look that had preceded him landing detention for a term. "We will have a very long discussion later, Mr Black."
Sirius raised his eyebrows; when the professor had disappeared, he grimaced. "She can't still give me detention, can she?"
"After the ruckus you and James created in her classroom, Sirius, it may be a gesture to allow her to try," Dumbledore advised, his eyes twinkling.
They were left in the study, and Ellaria suddenly realised it was just them. Just her, and Sirius, and Professor Dumbledore. The two would-be guardians of James and Lily's son, and the one who had actually taken the mantle for himself.
Against Lily and James' wishes. Their wills.
Ellaria gazed at the professor, who lifted his eyes to her knowingly. "Ah. Now we get into it."
It was a brief but passionate discussion that bordered on argument: Ellaria's cool nature had always tempered Sirius' violent outbursts. The two people James and Lily had trusted and discussed their child's future with, whom they had trusted would raise him if anything happened to them, had reappeared in Harry's life. They were willing to share Harry, but Ellaria was adamant: Gone were the days where Dumbledore alone made decisions concerning Harry's future. They, who had known James and Lily the best, who knew how they would want situations to be handled where they concerned their son, were taking back as much of the reins as possible.
"Remus should be here for this," Sirius said, panting slightly, calming himself down. Dumbledore's eyes were glittering like fireworks, and Ellaria's blood was boiling, but after tonight, and what Dumbledore had told them of Harry's last few years, it had felt good to vent.
They were allowed to be afraid for their godson, and heart-broken for what he had endured.
Especially as they had been denied their right to be there and protect him from it.
"We'll fill him in," Ellaria said gently. "His perspective is always invaluable."
Dumbledore nodded. He sighed softly to himself, then his lips twitched into a smile, "Chocolate and crumpets…a shame Remus felt it was necessary to leave us. Truly an excellent teacher - and a wonderful man…"
"Then invite him back," Ellaria said, giving Dumbledore a cool look.
"He's still beating himself up that it was his transformation that cost my freedom," Sirius said, shaking his head, knowing no invitation would be tempting enough for Moony; the possibility of what might have happened that night still haunted Remus. "As if it mattered. What could be more freeing than my best-friends and family knowing the truth, after all these years?"
"Some of us already knew the truth, Sirius," Ellaria said quietly, glancing at her husband. And Dumbledore, who knew everything, hadn't believed her. Ellaria and Sirius held each other's gaze for a long moment.
"Until your name is officially cleared, Sirius, I think it prudent you resume your disguise while around the school," Dumbledore said, his eyes sharp on Sirius. "You are welcome to stay, until the end of term."
"What do you need us to do?" Sirius asked.
"Keep a sharp eye," Dumbledore said. "We are about to be surrounded by thousands of very frightened, very confused children. They will undoubtedly seek reassurance and answers…and with what Harry has revealed to us, there may be repercussions for him speaking out, even within the walls of this castle."
"I'll keep an eye on him."
"Then…I would suggest returning to the Hospital Wing. I do not wish Harry to be disturbed while I address the school. I must…think of what to tell them all…"
"We'll leave you to it," Ellaria said sadly. "I'll say goodbye to Harry, Dumbledore, and then I'll head out. I'll need to corral my contacts. If Remus hasn't reached Granddad by now, I'll let him know; if anyone's well-connected, it's him. And we'll need the Wizengamot."
"Excellent," Dumbledore nodded, though the sparkle had disappeared from his eyes. He sighed. "I shall need to speak to the Diggorys… There has not been a death at Hogwarts for over fifty years…"
"It's not your fault, Dumbledore, any more than Moaning Myrtle's was Hagrid's," Sirius said, frowning at the Headmaster. "We read the signs as best we could."
"But too late, my dear boy," Dumbledore sighed, gazing over at Sirius. "Just a little too late."
"Would it have mattered?" Sirius suddenly asked, frowning. "If Harry had taken the Cup when Diggory pressed him to? Either tonight or sometime soon… How many of our classmates were like Cedric - just, and brave? And how many of us are left?"
"You believe Cedric Diggory's death was inevitable?"
"I believe Cedric Diggory was brave and clever, and decent. And he would've fought, the same way Gideon and Edgar and Marlene and Dorcas did…and he might've died, the same way they all did," Sirius said heavily. "Or maybe he would have survived - but altered. War's been declared, Dumbledore; none of us are getting out of it unscathed."
"Perhaps don't tell the students that," Ellaria said.
"My point is - Harry will always regret Diggory's death, what he believes to be his part in it, insisting Diggory share the Cup with him," Sirius said heavily, and they all knew he was speaking from personal experience. "He'll always think it was in part his fault; Harry needs to know that it's not. That there is no sense to the devastation of war. Diggory was the first…and he won't be the last, before it's over…"
It was all true, of course; but they left the Headmaster to try and think of what to say to the parents of his murdered student, and to the thousands of frightened children waiting to be told what was going on.
Down the spiral staircase, they entered a darkened corridor, and in the distance, they heard the murmur of hundreds of subdued voices, all converging on the Great Hall. They were waiting to be told that their classmate had been killed by Lord Voldemort, who had returned after nearly fourteen years.
"It doesn't feel like last time," Sirius said finally, and Ellaria looked over at him. He was watching through a window, and she approached, seeing tiny lights bobbing across the grounds; moonlight shimmered off the lake, and she could just see the shadows of a few dozen people approaching the castle.
"No… We have the advantage…and the best part is, he doesn't even realise it," Ellaria said grimly, her stomach hurting. It had been a long time since she last thought about Regulus' final act. Since she had taken Maia to the cave, they had both made an effort to put the fate of her brother-in-law, Maia's uncle, out of their minds. Maia's nightmares about Inferi had only recently started to abate… But dredging up the past was uncomfortable; and Sirius was experiencing this trauma for the very first time.
"Harry shouldn't have survived tonight." An arm crept around her waist, drawing her closer, and Ellaria wondered if Sirius was even aware of doing it, but he rested his head against hers, holding her close, the way he used to. It was so intimate and so familiar, and so strange, after all these years… She relaxed in his arms, savouring the feeling. His voice was hoarse when he told her, "This isn't what they wanted for him."
"No," she agreed, her eyes burning. James and Lily had both been alive tonight, not in Priori Incantatum, but in their fierce, brave boy, the boy who didn't back down to Death Eaters, the boy who had not abandoned his friend, even after his death. "But they would be fiercely proud of him, for getting on with it…and he enjoys Quidditch, at least." A miserable chuckle.
"You should see him fly, Ell…he's mesmerising," he sighed. Slowly, hands on her hips, he drew away from her; his eyes glowed in the moonlight streaming through the windows, the shadows cutting his cheekbones, carving his lips. Grief and guilt played across his features, something closer to shame…she knew him too well, still, even after all this time. His face had matured, but it was still Sirius. "Where are they, Ell? You weren't there… Where are they?"
She stared up into those familiar, mercurial eyes. The last time she had seen them, they had been maddened, vibrant, and drenched in tears. He had sat gasping and sobbing on the edge of the tiny little bed in the second bedroom, cuddling the warm bundle that was their sleeping daughter; before he had left, he had bent over the cot and kissed their son, lingering to gaze and watch their baby boy squirm and snuffle in his sleep.
"They're at Granddad's," she said gently.
"You weren't… When I got out - I tried to find you. When I heard about Frank and Alice, I thought - "
"We're alright. Sirius, we're all alright." She gripped his face in her hands, gasping softly, and pressed her forehead against his, nose-to-nose. Because they were.
"Moony told me…" He broke off, tears dripping from his chin as his lip trembled, and Ellaria knew exactly what Remus had told him.
"Sirius - we're alright. They're exceptional," she whispered fiercely.
His jaw worked, he licked his lips, and he asked tremulously, his voice breaking, "Can I meet them?"
She beamed, telling her husband honestly, "They're your headache now."
He could barely meet her eye, the rare exhibition of contrition. Grief flickered across his face, darkening those mercurial eyes. "I left you…"
"I could've stopped you," she interrupted, placing her fingertips over his lips. "And you would have hated me for it forever…" She had understood that more than she understood anything else in the world. Stop him from trying, or let him go after the monster that had betrayed them all, either way, she would have lost him.
He closed his eyes, reaching for her wrist, to hold her in place as he tenderly brushed kisses against her fingertips, regret heavy in every line of his face as his eyes glinted with fierce, almost angry tears. "I… I am sorrier than you can ever know," Sirius told her solemnly.
Holding his gaze, she told him, "I believe you."
He pulled her closer, and Ellaria's eyes burned as she reached up to sift her hands through his hair, clasping the back of his head, nuzzling her nose against his. His voice hoarse, he told her, "I've missed you."
And they embraced, holding each other in their arms for the first time in nearly fourteen years, just holding each other close, as if they had just returned from another raid, another mission, another close call in a duel with former schoolmates who had chosen a different path. Thrilled and relieved to be in each other's arms again, to be home.
When the world had ended, they had made a home together. No matter where they were, when they were with each other, they were home.
They hadn't been home in nearly fourteen years. His eyes burned bright in the moonlight as they broke apart, and she swallowed, and nodded, her stomach cramping with excitement, anticipation, and she was already reaching for him when he snatched for her hand, striding to the now-empty Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
The last decade barely mattered; they were together now. They were home.
His kisses were as fierce and fiery as she remembered, passionate and teasing, aggressive, lingering, breathless; the door locked, they fumbled out of their clothes and met with an anguished groan against the wall, his arms locked around her waist, her hands gripping his hair, and they came together for the first time in fourteen years, exploring their bodies, familiarising themselves after all these years, re-learning every tiny detail… They communicated more in those fierce thrusts and hissed gasps than could be said in hours; tender kisses, sharp thrusts of powerful hips, delicate teasing of special spots…he felt her scars, learned the changes of her body, as she did his; she understood his grief, his trauma, and his regret, and shared her own. And when they were done, and she shivered and trembled on weak knees, she wasn't the only one. He threw his robes on, his thick body heaving with pants, wide-eyed; he helped her dress, his hands shaking, and drew her unexpectedly close, for a deep, lingering kiss, cradling her face in his hands, savouring their kiss, their closeness, the renewal of an old intimacy.
"I wasn't expecting that," he whispered tenderly, gazing almost mournfully at her.
"Always play with their minds," she murmured, and Sirius flashed her a wolfish grin, kissing the tip of her nose. She smiled softly, gazing back, and told him, almost teasingly, "I think I'll let McGonagall rake you over the coals."
"She'll enjoy that," Sirius said, smiling, and he glanced around the office, still panting softly. His eyes landed on Mad-Eye's trunk. "You still have those keys, Ell?"
"In the lock, see," she pointed out, but he was already turning the key, squatting in front of the battered old trunk. Poor Alastor… "What are you looking for?"
"This…" Sirius said, a moment later, reopening the trunk a third time, and with a look of relief mingled with triumph, he fished out a bit of old parchment.
"The Map that Crouch mentioned?" she asked, curious, and she was reminded again of the secrets between them as Sirius flashed her a wolfish grin, slamming the trunk lid shut and locking it again, replacing the key in the first lock where he had found it.
"Wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands," he said, with a mischievous grin. "Come on, we should get up to the Hospital Wing." He tucked the Map into his robes, and transformed after giving her another deep, lingering kiss that warmed her from the inside out, and making her realise that she had been cold and uptight for longer than she could remember. He had always teased out the warmth in her, the…the fun, the gentleness and the charisma…the girl she had been before her family was murdered; he reminded her who she truly was. She had trusted Sirius; around him, she allowed herself to be that woman, even after her family's murder, even in the midst of war.
They had been so intimate with each other; they were the only people in the world they had trusted implicitly not to judge, to allow themselves vulnerability and grief and moments of doubt. They had picked each other up, put the pieces back together, loved one another. Loved the children they had chosen to bring into the world in spite of all their grief and loss and a war with next to no hope on the horizon…
The Hospital Wing was quiet when they reached it. Only four beds were occupied - Fleur Delacour, cursed by Crouch, had several potions bottles glinting on her bedside table; Krum, who had been placed under the Imperius Curse, was nursing a bandaged head; Alastor Moody was shrouded by a glinting restorative healing charm; and Harry, who was tucked behind folding screens, with the plump, red-haired Mrs Weasley holding vigil at his bedside with her knitting out, gazing into nothingness as her fingers flew.
She didn't hear their footsteps, and jumped out of her skin when Sirius gently touched her shoulder.
"Oh! You gave me such a fright!" She used her knitting to mop her face, which they tactfully ignored was shining with tears. "Oh, what must you think of me? I - I've just b-been thinking about…about Gideon and F-Fabian…"
"Your twins look very like them," Sirius muttered, remembering the stocky, grinning boys on Harry's Quidditch team. Mrs Weasley looked startled, and Sirius remembered he was a convicted murderer on the run; he shouldn't know what her children looked like.
"Sometimes it's as if - as if they open their mouths, and my brothers sp-speak," Mrs Weasley gasped, wiping her face again, smiling tremulously. "Th- the children are gone, a Prefect came for them…"
"They've all been asked down to the Great Hall. Dumbledore's…going to tell them what's happened," Ellaria said gently.
"You can go to your children, if you like; I'll stay with Harry," Sirius said, gazing down at his godson. He truly was a small, skinny little thing - just like James had been. Perfect for Seeking: Not advantageous against grown Dark wizards. But here he was… The fourth time he had escaped Voldemort's attempts to murder him… That was more than many adult wizards had managed, Lily and James included…
"Oh, no, really, I should - I should stay…"
"There are going to be a lot of very frightened children, without their parents to comfort them," Ellaria said gently. "A mother's presence may do a world of good."
Mrs Weasley gazed at Ellaria for a moment, then sniffed, wiped her face one last time, and nodded. For a startling moment, Sirius saw her brothers in the resolute, stern set to Mrs Weasley's expression. He had never known much about Gideon and Fabian's sister, though he knew they had one…she was the first to be told when Gideon and Fabian were murdered - it had taken five Death Eaters, four of whom they took down before Dolohov overpowered the wounded brothers.
His hand shook, curled around Ellaria's, and his eyes burned, but he focused on Harry. He focused on Harry, and the warmth of Ellaria's skin and he pushed away the memories.
He remembered Gideon and Fabian. He remembered the day they died.
He and James had cried. Moony had been underground; he'd smashed a teapot against the wall when he resurfaced, and they could finally tell him, one of the rare reactions to the many deaths that had truly shocked his friends.
Ellaria squeezed his hand gently; and he knew she was remembering, too, when she peered into his face. She leaned in, giving his cheek a gentle kiss, lingering for a moment.
"I'll just say goodbye to Harry…" Ellaria sighed, approaching the cot, where Harry was curled up, his expression utterly content.
"A Sleeping Draught?"
"Dreamless Sleep," Mrs Weasley nodded, gazing down sadly at Harry. "He's ended up here at the end of every year…first the Philosopher's Stone, then that dirty great Basilisk…" She cast a very shrewd look Sirius' way. "And now this…"
"Brave boy," Sirius murmured, as Ellaria approached, tenderly stroking the untidy hair from Harry's forehead. In sleep, he looked even younger, small and skinny for his age, with a dirty great scar hacked across his forehead like great forks of lightning, raised and pink and ugly. He would always have that scarring… Sirius remembered the first time he had seen the curse's damage, felt his knees buckle under the weight of his grief, his guilt, seeing the still-fresh cuts glaring at him from under a tuft of untidy black hair. He tilted his head, and with his eyes closed, and the scar out of view, Sirius could almost believe it was James lying there, as if he was just recuperating from another broken limb during Quidditch against the Ravenclaw team in their fourth year.
Ellaria bent down and kissed Harry's forehead where it was unblemished from scarring, caught Sirius' eye, gave him a tender kiss that made his toes curl, and escorted Mrs Weasley out of the Hospital Wing.
Sirius sighed, transformed, and climbed onto the end of the bed to curl up at his godson's feet.
A.N.: I want to show the difference between Mrs Weasley's style of parenting and that of Ellaria, and the inevitable clash that will come when Mrs Weasley tries to take control, as she always seems to. I'm rethinking Mrs Weasley throughout the series, and she's… I love her, alright; but she's actually not the nicest person when she disapproves of you, for whatever reason. I'm actually quite disgusted that she believed Rita Skeeter's article about Hermione, giving her a tiny Easter egg as a passive-aggressive way of conveying what she thought of her son's friend; I'm also horrified by her attitude toward the twins and their passion and lifelong ambition; and her below-the-belt comment to Sirius about being in Azkaban.