A/N: Bold type is Renee third person…and her last name is said Eraque (Air-a-que). The 'que' is pronounced like the Spanish 'qué' (meaning what). Just thought I'd let you know…
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Chapter Two: Remembering
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When I finally woke up, it was sometime after noon. I was slumped in my rocking chair, the box on my knees, its contents spilling onto the floor. It wasn't very dark—the candles had gone out—but somehow the windows were open, and noon light was spilling in.
I sat up and stretched with a yawn. The box fell off my lap, and someone chuckled as I made a sleep-filled clumsy grab for it. I sat up again, and grinned at the man sitting on my bed, with a tray of sandwiches and brownies beside him.
"Hello Moony," I said brushing my hair out of my eyes.
"Hey, Padfoot," Remus Lupin said, also grinning. "How are you this fine and wonderful afternoon?"
"Tired," I said through a jaw cracking yawn.
"Tell me about it," he said with a roll of his eyes and a groan. "Want to play for the brownie?"
"There's only one?" He nodded. What he meant by "want to play" is that we'd see who had a worse month and then they'd get the brownie. We did this often, each of our love of chocolate rivaling the others. I motioned for him to go first.
"You try chasing a nasty, cold-hearted vampire all over Europe for a month. He was afraid I was coming after him to kill him or something, I don't know. I just wanted to tell him Dumbledore wanted him. I didn't want anything else to do with him. Then of course, there was the side trip to Russia to tell the Vampire King I was stalking him. I had to sort that out. And then there was the ritual knife fight when I finally caught him before he'd even listen to me. He wasn't satisfied until he'd nearly silted my throat. Then when he found out I was on Dumbledore's orders he softened right up and was all ready to be my friend. And, naturally, there was full moon while I was somewhere in—er—Poland."
"Ouch. You may win. Try—erm—listening to Snivellius' snide and sarcastic barbs about not doing anything except sitting on my –I'm so—so, I don't know, disgusted with him. Dumbledore keeps sending notes to me about keeping my temper and not doing anything rash, and crap about staying inside. But if someone is damaging pride like mine—I'm admitting to being proud, a little too proud sometimes—how am I supposed to keep my temper!? Then there's the cleaning—although it's more like waging war on this depressing, vile, disgusting, dark, unhappy, friggin, cursed house!"
"Okay—you win. Here," Remus said, tossing me one of the sandwiches and the brownie. I looked at the chocolate and then broke it evenly in half and tossed one part back to my friend.
"What? You won."
"So? Puh-leeze, Remus," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. "You had to go to RUSSIA of all places!!! And you had to face down the Vampire King, which, I might add, is very intimidating. Trust me, I know. He came to Azkaban to see me once—no don't ask, I don't know why. I'm not letting you off with nothing. And you know I like butterscotch and sherbet balls better than chocolate anyway."
He smiled and we began to laugh. Remus' eyes traveled around the room and landed on the collage I had pinned up during the night.
"Where did you find these?" he asked, his eyes growing grave as he looked at James and Lily.
"In here—this mess," I said, waving a hand at the box's spilled contents. "I found them last night. I didn't look very closely—here—this one will make you laugh—" I slid off the chair and sifted through the mess until I spotted Snape's pink-and-purple hair. Remus took the picture, and laughed.
"Do you want help sorting through this?" he asked.
"Sure—but maybe we'd better go down for a few minutes. You know, let everyone know I'm still alive."
"Good idea," Remus laughed.
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"Post came, Margaret," the woman said.
"Well, that's good." The woman sitting at the table asked. "Anything interesting, Elli?"
"No," the younger woman commented with a sigh. "Here." She handed the envelopes to her sister and sat down. Margaret sat back and brushed her blonde curls out of her blue eyes. Her sister looked nothing like her. Elli stared out the window with grey eyes, the sunlight that was streaming in blazing off her straight mahogany hair. She let out another sigh.
"This was his favorite time of year," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"Oh, Elli! If you don't stop moping about him I'm going to kick you out! At least you know he's alive!"
"But we don't know that for sure, Meg! The Ministry could have picked him up at any time. And anyone who found him dead or alive would get 100,000 galleons! That's enough for some people to do murder for!"
"Yes, but you have some hope of seeing him again! Elli, I saw Mark die—I saw Voldemort kill him! I'll never see him again…" her eyes filled with tears and Elli stood. Coming around behind Meg, she wrapped her arms around her sister. Resting her chin on Meg's head, she closed her eyes to stop the tears.
"I'm sorry, Meg," she whispered.
"Don't worry about it." Mark was Meg's husband, who had been an Auror in the Dark Times. He had been killed in front of his three year old daughter Catherine and his wife, Margaret—by Voldemort himself. If that wasn't enough for the Order of the Phoenix (Dumbledore's secret fighting force against the Death Eaters and their leader), ten days later, James and Lily Potter had been killed, and their son Harry had somehow, mysteriously, defeated Lord Voldemort. Those years…it hurt just to think of them. Elli closed her eyes, and cried.
"Renee, don't cry," Margaret said, using Elli's real name. "Don't cry."
"Don't use my real name…they might come find me…"
"Renee…Renee Renee Renee!!! I'm going to use your real name from now on when we're at home!" Meg said.
"But, but…the Ministry? What if they?"
"They're not after you anymore! How could they be? Come on Renee, get over it! You'll be fine. So long as no one finds out that you are Renee Black you'll be fine. If you stay Renee Eraque you will be fine! Trust me on this—for once in your life, trust me."
Renee nodded. That's when the owl came…as Renee was drying her tears, and Meg was beginning to smile…the owl came…
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We had finally finished going through all the photos and they were stored in labeled boxes on the shelves in my room (Remus is so much more organized than me). After dinner, I had somehow escaped Snape and the Order's meeting, and had run up to my room to hide.
I sat down at the small but serviceable writing desk in the corner. I rested my head in my hands and stared at its smooth, polished, wooden surface. To think, I had sat in this exact same position so many years ago…before I had run away…
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"SIRIUS ERIK BLACK I WILL KILL YOU AND FEED YOU TO—" The voice was cut off as the door to the bedroom slammed. There was a soft, concerned hoot from on top of the dresser that stood along one wall.
"Mum's at it again, Mercury," the dark brown haired boy said glumly as he leaned heavily against the door he had just slammed. The portrait in the corner sighed.
"What did you do this time, my boy?" it said in a whispery voice.
"Nothing, Uncle Alphard, I swear," he said standing in front of the picture, arms folded across his chest. "Well, all right, maybe it was me who dumped flour all over the kitchen."
"Is that all?" the picture of Uncle Alphard asked in a flat voice, glaring at his favorite nephew.
"Erm, no…" Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, okay. I hit the bludger at Regulus, who ducked behind the troll umbrella stand, so that fell over on top of him and then I left him there and started up the stairs when he threw a hex at me, which I ducked and then I threw a hex at him, which started a duel on the stairwell and in the front hall, which finally resulted with Regulus growing turnips out of his ears and he went crying to Mum which got her all riled up and when she started looking for me I ran up to the drawing room and hid but she found me and stared throwing hexes at me, and I couldn't exactly hex her back 'cause then I'd get in deep trouble for sure and then one of her jinxes hit that stupid tapestry, which went up in flames, and so she was going to put that out when I escaped and bolted up here which is when she started screaming her head off at me, and so now I locked and sound-proofed the door so she can't scold me with her tongue or her wand!"
"Is that right?" Alphard commented calmly as Sirius fell onto the bed in exasperation.
"Yes," he told the ceiling, which he began to make faces at.
"Stop that Sirius," the picture said. Sirius stuck his tongue out at him, but stopped. There were a few minutes of silence and then the boy stood up and sat down at the writing desk in the corner, his head in his hands as he stared at the top of it.
"Uncle Alphard," he said quietly.
"Yes?" the picture sighed.
"What would you say if I ran away? If I just left this whole mess behind?"
"Sirius…"
"I mean…I'm not like any of them…they're ALL in Slytherin and I'm in Gryffindor—which are total opposites. I really don't give a dang as to who's pure-blood and who isn't. I socialize with Muggle-borns and don't care about it—heck, some of my best friends are Muggle-borns! And I think their way of thinking is stupid—no one is better than someone else because of their blood. Right? I mean, it's stupid."
"Sirius…" Alphard said quietly. "I won't—I can't—stop you if you decide to run away. I'll miss you, of course…and as you know, you're in my will so that when I die you'll get much of what I own—and you deserve it."
"You're not going to die, Uncle Alphard," Sirius said.
"Oh, yes, I am," he said, nodding his head. "I'm ninety-eight years old, long, even for a wizard. Dumbledore is one of the only ones to live past a hundred. You'll get a good sum of money—less than what you would have got from your parents—but the best I can do. So go ahead, run. But just know this—you'll have to face them sometime."
"Great—but that meeting can wait for many years. D'you think I could leave today?" Sirius was sitting up straight now and suddenly stood. He found his trunk and pulled it open. Opening his dresser he unloaded a stack of socks into the trunk. The next drawer produced Muggle clothes and robes. He gathered books and random wizarding objects from around the room and dumped them on top of the clothing.
"Where do you plan on going?" Alphard asked.
"Uh, James' house. His parents won't mind."
"Uh-huh." The trunk was slammed shut and magically locked. Mercury was settled in his cage and Sirius stood in the center of the room.
"Have I forgotten anything?"
"The box?" Alphard asked. Sirius opened the bottom dresser drawer and popped open the secret compartment. Inside there lay a simple, plain box. He shoved it into the last nook of his trunk and resealed everything. He blew out all the candles and closed the shutters. He pulled on his cloak and opened the door.
"Bye Uncle Alphard. Later."
"Yes, my boy. I'll visit shortly to see how you are doing. Good-bye."
"See ya." Then Sirius levitated his trunk and made it follow him as he slid down the railing of the staircase. He was opening the back door when—
"HA!" The voice was high-pitched and howling. Sirius whipped around, wand raised. "I HAVE FOUND YOU! YOU FILTHY, SLIMY, ABOMINATION!!! NOW YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD NEVER CROSSED ME!" He was fumbling with the latch on the door behind his back. He had to get out of here—quickly. It was clear that he wasn't wanted. Even though he had never liked his parents, he still felt a pang of sadness at the feeling of abandonment. He raised his wand, his hand shaking.
"Keep away from me, you evil woman," he said, his voice, miraculously steady.
"BLOOD TRATIOR!!! SHAME OF MY FLESH!!!! SLIME! MUCK! VILE AND DISGUSTING—"
"Shut up."
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!?!"
"I SAID SHUT UP!!!! YOU HORRIBLE OLD HAG!!!! SHUT UP!!!"
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!?!?!?"
"I SAID—SHUT—UP!!!!!!" The latch on the door fell to the floor as it opened. Sirius fell through it and landed hard on the ground. He kicked the door closed, and all the screaming ceased. He massaged his now sore throat and stood up. The magically protected house was shrinking from view. He watched it until it was completely gone, then heaved a sigh of relief.
He was free of them! He should have felt like jumping for joy—but he didn't. What was wrong with him? He hated them, didn't he? Why did he feel depressed? He set off at a quick walk around the side of the house, dragging his trunk—why hadn't he thought to put wheels on it? He had gone only a few blocks when it all caught up to him. He sat down hard on the curb in front of the play-park where his father had used to take him as a small child. Then his head in his hands, the sixteen-year-old wept.
Why was he crying? He hated that whole family—every single one of them. Well, not Uncle Alphard or Andromeda, one of his cousins. But there you had it—two out of how many? All the rest were evil foul cockroaches, weren't they? If he hated them, why did it feel like his heart was ripping in two? He had never loved them, right?
Why was he weeping? If he really hated them—which he did—why was he afraid?
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I shrugged the memory away. It was just a memory…nothing more. After an hour of weeping, I had sent the trunk and Mercury all the way to James' house with a note telling him what had happened. Then I had used dog-form and gotten there two days later.
That had been a fun summer. James and I had had a great time, and his parents were awesome, really nice. Plus they liked me, which was a total bonus—and they invited me to stay with them over Winter and Spring holidays, as well as the next summer until I got a place of my own.
Uncle Alphard, of course, checked on me regularly—almost every week, which was okay, because he and Mr. Potter hit it off really well, both having the same hobby of Magi-zoology, though their real jobs were far from hunting out and learning about magical creatures. When Uncle Alphard died over the spring holidays during sixth year, Mrs. Potter was kind enough to arrange a low-cost funeral for him—my mother had forgot her brother existed. And I was left with a heap of gold.
So I rented a flat that was in walking distance from the Potters' as James still lived at home for another year. When he moved into the house next-door to my flat when he married Lily, I was even closer to him—and Mr. and Mrs. Potter Senior were still glad when we showed up for Sunday tea.
But these memories led to a bad time period in my life. So I blocked all thought out of my mind and left my room. I went down to my mother's old bedroom and fed Buckbeak—my (cough, stolen, cough) hippogriff. Then still blocking thought, I went back upstairs and decided it was time for me to go to sleep…
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"So what did the letter say again?"
Renee and Meg were eating dinner. It was late, Meg having had an emergency at work that kept her late. But now she asked the same question for what seemed the hundredth time.
"It was from Dumbledore," Renee sighed. "He asked if I wanted to come to Hogwarts to teach Care of Magical Creatures. I guess Hagrid, the usual teacher, is away for part of the year—I'm guessing it's Order of the Phoenix business. Remember Hagrid?"
"How could anyone forget him? But he's teaching? That's good for him. So I presume you're going to take the job?"
"Yes. I'll be safer at Hogwarts then anywhere else. You could come as well, Dumbledore said. You could just camp out, or he commented that he had an empty Ancient Runes position. I guess there are two teachers—one for O.W.L. level and one N.E.W.T., which should be interesting."
"When do you write back to him?" Meg asked.
"Oh, I'll probably respond tomorrow. Affirmative for both of us? We're both going?"
"Yes. This should be a very interesting year."