Chapter 36: Gossip

Eleanor lived in a flat in Old London, in a large, opulent building inhabited entirely by muggles – except for her, apparently.

On Thursday, Sirius looked around the entrance once more, surprised by the choice, but did not find any indication of it being an even slightly wizarding neighborhood – nothing except the engraved rune in a bottom corner of the front wall, indicative of anti-apparition wards.

He'd have expected her parents to at least insist on her living in a magical community, but obviously she'd declined...

When Sirius had bought a flat out of school, he'd chosen it in one of the mixed neighborhoods of the capital – you had to hide or conceal your more obvious magical items from the passersby, but you knew some of your neighbors were witches and wizards who lived in the same world as you did. It meant less people to lie to, but also the opportunity to see other things, other people with different lives from yours.

Eleanor's choice meant she was completely cut off from her neighbors, at least as far as telling them all about herself was concerned.

It also meant most people probably didn't know where to find her, because people couldn't gossip and give her address to strangers. Most likely only her family, a few trusted friends, and the Ministry's employee recording addresses knew where to find her at all.

Sirius shrugged – her choice, if she was happy with it; he couldn't comment because Black Manor might be all magic, but it also had no neighbors at all – and went for the doorbells.

Eleanor's was easy to identify, even before he got close enough to read the names. Her flat was obviously specifically marketed for wizarding folks – no surprise considering the Rowles' family business – entirely outfitted for a magic user to live in: less to no electricity – it could interact nastily with some spells, and anyway most wizards didn't know what to do with muggle appliances – but the magical equivalent built into the flat itself. Her doorbell, specifically, was a round copper button where the others were shining grey.

There was a Fehu rune just before her name, too. This wasn't just an Eleanor-owned flat, then, but a Rowle-owned one as well – which made sense, if they hadn't kicked a fuss about her living in an all-muggle neighborhood.

The Rowles' fortune came mainly from real estate. The family owned entire neighborhoods of wizarding flats and houses in each great British city, which they rented to the common wizards and witches, and several isolated flats and houses like the one Eleanor was currently living in. They also employed most of the specialist builders who not only built wizarding homes, but also installed permanent wards and other peculiarities into the building's bones – Emmeline worked for them, as it was. Finally, they were in charge of most real estate sales and purchases, with a property agency on Diagon Alley.

All in all, they owned perhaps 30% of the country's wizarding real estate, and had a say on 20% more. Renovating a magical home cost money and asked for expertise, changing houses was difficult when you didn't know where to look and wanted an already outfitted place, and working in those sectors wasn't easy when you didn't have the right contacts – the Rowles had all that.

There were a handful of small businesses that didn't belong to them – but they all did business with Rowle's Acres & Houses, or they didn't survive long.

The doorbell let out a melodic sound when Sirius pushed it. He just had to find the right door, now – the Fehu rune would be on it, too, so, easy to find since Eleanor was the only witch living there. One last glance at the doorbell panel – and, right, third floor.

It was custom to put a wizarding symbol on your house's name plate – or whatever passed for it – so that other wizaring folks could tell this wasn't a muggle abode, and the Rowles had decided their properties would bear the Fehu rune centuries ago – it meant wealth, you see, and the Rowles liked everyone to know it.

When he arrived on the third floor, Sirius snorted – he didn't even need the rune to know which door was Eleanor's.

Mostly because there was only one door.

The rune was on it, too.

He knocked on the door, amused – but not surprised. He lived in a manor, and had grown up in a townhouse almost as large as this building. If anything, the only place he'd lived in that was smaller than Eleanor's all-floor flat was the one he'd bought after graduation – which had still been spacious enough for two bedrooms and an office.

He did wonder what she did with all that space – Merlin knew he didn't know what to do with his, and Black Manor's rooms had their own centuries-old purposes!

Eleanor opened the door within seconds, blocking the entrance with her body – considering she was still behind her own door wards, protected from most spells, it wasn't the worst choice, though he could still force his way in if he wanted to.

Her hair was up in a bun, once again, and Sirius almost forgot, his eyes stuck on a wandering blond lock – but:

"You fed me a meat pie in Hogsmeade once."

The witch blinked – but stepped aside.

"...That was you?"

Sirius smiled at her, but his smile was a bit too sharp to be entirely real.

"I had a few less pounds to my magnificent canine body, I must admit."

He'd been half-starving himself again, because Harry had needed support and going to Hogsmeade of all places meant he had to scavenge for food as Padfoot.

Eleanor eyed him dubiously as she closed the door.

"I'm still not convinced."

Of course she was, or else she wouldn't have let him in – and besides, who else would know that she'd once bought a meat pie for an underfed stray? Maybe someone had seen her do it at the time, but even then why would they think of it as being convincing identification while passing themselves off as Sirius Black, even if he did turn into a big black dog?

"You just want to see the dog, don't you?"

Eleanor's eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and Sirius knew that he'd gotten it – maybe not right, maybe that hadn't been her complete intent, but at the very least she did want to see Padfoot again.

"Great idea, let me see the dog again."

In fact, now that everyone and their cousin knew that he was an animagus, it did make for a rather convincing proof of identity.

Not one you could use in all circumstances – asking for space to turn into an animal would give anyone a great opportunity to do something else, like hexing or taking a potshot – but still.

You couldn't fake being an animagus, and each animagus had their own, specific form.

Sirius graciously obliged his friend – girlfriend? Lover? Those sounded inappropriate for their age and situation, but significant other was much too long and partner implied a longer time together... – but not without commenting: "The name is Padfoot, if you must know."

The next moment, Eleanor Rowle was staring at very well-behaved grim sitting on his hind legs, head cocked to the side.

Padfoot did look a bit like the dog she'd fed in Hogsmeade once.

The witch reached out slowly – and the grim leaned into her touch, silver eyes wide open.

The only things that betrayed him as not-quite-a-normal-dog – aside from the fact that he'd been a wizard having a discussion with her only moments ago – was the absolutely massive size of him – she doubted he looked like any breed of dogs even if there were some as big as him – and the way his fur faded into back mist.

She had thought the dog back then looked like a grim, hadn't she?

Eleanor crouched down and hugged the do... – Padfoot. Sirius.

She felt the muscles under the wispy fur, and sighed.

"...You truly weren't in good health back then, were you?"

The grim didn't move for a moment, not until Eleanor felt his outline start to shift.

She stood back up and was met with Sirius' human face, his eyes rooted on hers, unblinking.

"I wasn't. This... body, the state I'm in right now, it's only because Bellatrix killed me and I had to make a new body from scratch. Before, I could almost feel the hunger in my bones, my flesh generally rang with aches and pain, my temper rose without warning and with little reason. I... You might not have appreciated me much if you'd met me after Azkaban."

He hadn't been likable at all – only those who already did like him for a reason or another, those who weren't convinced he was a backstabbing mass murderer anymore, only those had cared to live through his mood swings.

He doubted anyone was very agreeable right after a long stay in the high-security wing of Azkaban – but that was hardly a common problem, because most high-security prisoners were there for life and never had the opportunity to reacquaint themselves with society.

Also, they were all dangerous murderers, so people didn't like them much anyway.

Eleanor smiled – a bit sad, very understanding.

"I saw the pictures."

Sirius grimaced before finally getting rid of his cloak – light, for September weather, appropriately woven with a perception charm for muggle outings, but he'd need to buy another leather jacket still. Leather was especially practical to work protections into without having the expertise of a magical seamstress, and he wouldn't have to worry about the perception charm failing if the jacket already looked muggle.

There was a coat hanger just by the door, and he moved to rejoin Eleanor who'd moved further into the entrance corridor.

"Everyone saw the pictures."

They'd been in the Daily Prophet every day for two weeks, and even after that they had still been in every other edition, in some corner of the newspapers.

At least he hadn't been screaming like a lunatic in those – unlike some ghost he shall not name.

They walked into what turned out to be the living room, where the table was already set with lunch for two. Eleanor excused herself for a moment, disappearing rapidly into the next room – probably the kitchen – and Sirius sat down, peering at the mixed salad in front of him.

There were some bits of meat in it, but he guessed the most of it would be in the main dish, which he didn't mind at all. He'd never been a big eater, which had always baffled James and Pet... Peter during the Hogwarts feasts.

Was that a fairy dust seasoning? He could work with that – unusual for everyday meals, though.

Eleanor reappeared with a water pitcher and a bottle of red wine and sat down.

"What do you drink?"

Sirius winced.

"Water. Never really liked alcohol and what it does to unstable personalities like mine, and I overindulged during the last year. It honestly was the only thing keeping me from rushing on the field for the Order, because I knew I was impaired, so that's how it started..."

Eleanor paused, then – about to stood up and pack the bottle away, probably – and Sirius added:

"I don't mind if you drink a glass of it, honestly. It's just red wine, not firewhisky. Anyway, new body, any residual temptation is a purely mental issue, and I have a long history of wrangling dubious desires and winning."

The only obvious exception to that statement he could think of was Snape and the Weeping Willow Incident.

"...Are you sure?"

Sirius poured himself a glass of water with a smile.

"Just don't ask me next time, but yes, I'm sure."

"Alright..."

Eleanor filled her wine glass, then closed the bottle with a charm – Sirius almost commented, but "no wands at the table" was his family's rules, not hers – and put it on a round wooden tray on the side of the table.

The bottle of wine shimmered for a moment – then disappeared.

His eyebrows rose high.

"A vanishing tray. Original."

And it had the added advantage of not letting the bottle in his sight – not necessary, again, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Eleanor's smile turned a bit teasing.

"Not so much for people without a house-elf to do the serving. It helps not cluttering the table without having to get up every other minute."

Sirius leaned to the side, peering over her shoulder into the probably-a-kitchen-or-maybe-a-pantry room.

"Where is the twin tray? Right into the cold box?"

"No, just the kitchen counter. I still have to put it away later, because some things do not go into a cold box. How did you manage during those years you weren't living in your family home?"

"I had a fridge. Kept the kitchen magic free, mostly because I can't be trusted with sharp things unless the point is to get someone maimed. Also, the dining table was in the, admittedly large, kitchen, and I had a large table too, so I just put it to the side until I was finished."

Eleanor eyed him over her fork of tomato and salad.

"...You cooked, at least?"

He did just say he wasn't to be trusted with a knife, didn't he?

"I make good soups, actually. And I can do basic dishes, but, you know. There were also a few restaurants right down the street. And, when I say I can't be trusted with a sharp instrument, I'm only saying it has to stay in my hand. It's when I start charming knives to do the cooking without me looking it over that they start a sharp and dangerous dance."

Eleanor winced.

"I see. I did remember you scoring an O in Potions and an E in Alchemy for your NEWTs."

Sirius blinked.

"How do you even know that?"

She shrugged.

"I got curious in my last year, went through the best scorers in the preceding years. I found you, of course: five O's and three E's, it's impressive."

"You can talk! I heard you got straight O's on your own NEWTs."

Eleanor stopped eating for a second, her fork hanging over her bowl of salad.

"I... Well. I didn't take as many classes as you did. I had more time to focus on each course."

"Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, Arithmancy, Chants, and Ancient Studies. That's still six classes to follow. I know people who continued onto fewer NEWTs courses."

Peter had followed five classes – and failed his Herbology NEWT, but they'd seen it coming by the end of sixth year. Then again, he'd also insisted to take the remediation module in divination, and thus he'd managed to replace his OWL with a E instead of a P in that class, so technically he'd followed six courses too.

Eleanor stared at him for a moment, and then:

"Did my uncle tell you all that?"

Sirius smirked, but didn't answer.

He may, or may not, have received a letter with all the good points of one Eleanor Adelaid Rowle, signed with Theodore Rowle's lordship ring, but that would remain hypothetical for the witch sitting across from him.

Eleanor squinted at him – oh, she definitely knew. There was no way he'd found those facts in the Daily Prophet – her straight O's, yes, that had been enough of an event, there had been an article on the matter, but not her exact classes.

"Anyway. I'm terrific at theory, good at precision, and exams don't really care for how powerful you are as long as you're powerful enough to make the spell work. I picked my classes because I didn't want to get overwhelmed. From what she told me, your godson's friend got as many Optimal Owls as I did, and one more with a E, and she's continuing eight of these classes. Maybe she won't have O's everywhere for her NEWTs, I don't know, but she's also working more courses than I did back then. It's not entirely impossible to score like I did when you make choices."

The witch stood up – put the bowls on the vanishing tray – to go and get the main course.

"We've got roast beef next. My parents' house-elf helped, by the way. I like cooking well enough, but I don't know any recipe by heart except for apple and sausage pasta."

When she came back with the new plates, Sirius had refilled his glass of water and poured her one as well. They ate in silence for a moment – it was good, it really was – before he stopped to look at her, only vaguely uncertain of the words coming from his mouth:

"If you wish, we could dine at Black Manor one day. I hear Regulus got good at cooking during all those years..."

He finished that sentence with a vague gesture, as if it could somehow encompass the entire situation that was Regulus Black. Eleanor bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say – she'd seen Sirius' brother and had talked with his wife during her visit the day before, and it was obvious something was going on there.

Even without taking the rumors into account.

"Is... Is everything alright? With him?"

Sirius' expression then was complicated.

"You'll know tomorrow, at the Order meeting. Part of it, at least, and if you want more I'll tell you what I can afterwards, alright?"

She nodded – and jumped on the opportunity:

"About the meeting..."

"Right. First one for you, isn't it? First one for Alexander and Armand too, now that I think of it. We rarely have full-blown meetings like that one, generally it's just a few people meeting at Headquarters whenever they can, but you three are new and you need to know who you are working with. Speaking of which, Dumbledore asked if you'd be willing to arrange something with Jane Mauss? Who is she, exactly?"

Sirius had tried to remember if he'd already heard the name somewhere – "Mauss" wasn't wizarding, but she could be a half-blood or a muggleborn – but the best he'd gotten was a vague mention about an investigation while he'd been in Azkaban, something he'd read about in the Daily Prophet when he'd been surviving on gossip only.

Eleanor, he noted, only looked half-surprised.

"Dumbledore wishes to speak with Jane?"

"Yes, something about discussing ideas? He's trying to destroy a powerful dark artifact, one that has too many defenses, and he thinks she could help? At least, that's what I gathered from the circumstances when he asked. Maybe it's about something else, or not just about that in particular. As I have no idea of who she is, I can't really guess more..."

Eleanor took a moment to decide – should she tell him about Jane? About what she'd lived through?

There was no way to explain Jane without disclosing that, and it would be cruel to make Jane explain it all herself when Sirius and her would eventually meet – Jane was Eleanor's friend, like Armand, and if whatever was going on with Sirius kept happening, they would meet, the two of them.

So many people out there knew what had happened to Jane – the incident had been horrific, the first of such gravity after the last Death Eaters had stopped struggling against capture, and everyone who read the Prophet regularly knew about it.

Sirius, though...

Sirius had been in jail, then.

He couldn't know, not if he hadn't found the right articles, not if anyone hadn't told him.

Eleanor sighed, and ate her last piece of roast beef. This wouldn't be pleasant, and she might as well finish her plate beforehand.

Sirius squinted at her, but followed her lead.

It was only when they both put their plates on the vanishing tray that the witch started her – or rather, Jane's – story:

"Jane is... Well. She's a muggle. The thing is, she's brilliant. So brilliant she..."

Eleanor stopped and shook her head.

"No, wait. Let's start with the investigation. I'm used to Jane's side of the story, but you don't know anything about it, so it'll be easier with the investigation."

Sirius' eyebrows rose as he listened to her, but he didn't interrupt.

Eleanor was grateful for that, too.

"You know Alastor Moody, right?"

"Worked with him, actually. He was one of my supervisors during auror training. And he's part of the Order, he should be there tomorrow evening."

She nodded.

"Right, that's what I thought. So, just before Moody retired, about... seven years ago, the aurors were working on a lead about unethical magical experimentation. After a few weeks, they had a suspect, and they raided his house. That's when they found Jane."

No one had expected that, Eleanor believed.

"Hesleden was investigated because some of his arithmantic charts were being sold to thieves and other criminals, and they'd noticed some problematic strings in the charts, that could lead to a negative use of..."

"Eleanor, I didn't take Arithmancy. I have some basic notions, true, but me deciphering what you're talking about is probably not the most important point of your story, am I wrong?"

"Right, sorry."

Sirius gave her a smile.

"Tell me about it another time, if you want. For now, I'll just believe you when you say that the charts were dangerous."

"They were. But, the point here is that the aurors found a muggle girl shackled in Azrael Hesleden's attic, and she'd been there for eight years."

Sirius' stare was long and absolutely dumbfounded when Eleanor said those words.

"Eight years."

The witch nodded, again.

"Yes. You see, Hesleden was highly regarded in theoretical arithmancy despite his young age, even back in 1981 when it all started. Back then, he was working on a new project, those charts I told you about. But he was missing something, and he couldn't figure out what, so he thought he should change his outlook and way of working. He installed an open lab in the heart of a forest."

Sirius was already wincing – he had no idea how this all culminated into this Hesleden having kept a muggle in his attic for so long, but he could already tell the wizard lacked common sense, or at least a sense of realities. Who thought you could keep an open lab a secret, unless you lived in the middle of the taiga?

"I'm not even going to ask about the level of secrecy he put on his lab."

Eleanor gave him a dry look – and, yes, that meant there was little security going on around Azrael Hesleden's forest lab.

"It was promptly discovered by a young muggle who lived not too far. She'd sneak out of her house in the early morning and look over the written theory of Hesleden's work with a great deal of curiosity. Until one day..."

"Hesleden was there at the same time?"

"Exactly. He tended to work in the afternoon, so they hadn't crossed paths yet, but that day, he was at his lab early, and he found Jane there too."

Sirius pinched his brow. Aurors dealt with dark wizards, usually, but sometimes they stumbled upon cases that would end up someone else's problem – the Hit Wizard Squadron's on occasions, but generally it was for the Magical Investigation Unit. This sounded like such a case that had gotten out of hand after no one had known to look for it.

Eight years. Circe.

"He tried to obliviate her himself and made a mess, then refused to take her to professionals and thought he could make it all disappear if no one ever learned about the girl?"

That was a reasonable assumption – if not a reasonable course of action – but given the face Eleanor was making...

"I said Jane was brilliant, didn't I? So Hesleden quickly realized that she'd understood everything she'd read, and even if she couldn't apply any of it because she didn't have magic, she was still able to reason around the magical theory. She was young, too, nine years old, and she barely questioned how the existence of theoretical books on magic challenged everything she thought she knew about the world."

That... was unexpected.

If Hesleden really was an important academic in the field of aritmancy, that meant the books he'd kept around his lab were likely very advanced – at least NEWTs level, higher for most. That a girl younger than ten, who hadn't known magic to exist until then, could understand them was impressive.

It still didn't explain how Jane Mauss had ended up shackled in Hesleden's attic, though.

Eleanor continued:

"Hesleden was... intrigued. He started talking with her. Found that her fresh outlook and sheer intellect complemented his knowledge of magic and procedural thinking. Time passed, and Jane had to leave, to go back home."

Sirius didn't like where this was going, at all.

The way Eleanor was telling this story, it sounded like a Statute of Secrecy breach, a wizard so enamored with his search for knowledge that he'd overlook safety and the one rule that had kept the wizarding world away from muggle scrutiny for centuries. Something that could cause, potentially, a huge mess, but that also wasn't an issue for aurors to deal with – obliviators, magestigators, the Wizengamot perhaps.

The way she'd set it up, however, the facts at the end of the story, when the aurors had arrived at Hesleden's house...

"He didn't let her go back home."

That was the only possible explanation.

Eleanor looked a bit pallid when she confirmed his suspicions.

"He didn't let her go back home, no. Instead, Hesleden imperiused her..."

...And there came the auror jurisdiction. Not only dark magic, not only arm to another human being, but the Dark Arts themselves.

"...just long enough for him to find even more dubious ways to keep her by his side, and lucid enough to help with his research. Jane spent eight years with modified Azkaban shackles on her wrists and ankles and neck. She still has the scars."

Sirius gritted his teeth and didn't comment.

Just because a little girl had been cleverer than most, just because this wizard had been so taken with knowledge that he hadn't known where to stop!

Not all dark wizards were Death Eaters – though most, these days, were – he knew that, but he'd also grown up in such a time that you'd almost forget – but people were capable of unprompted horrors, no matter their motivations. Some wanted power, some wanted recognition, some wanted knowledge, some wanted protection, some wanted validation, some wanted excitement, some wanted...

All that mattered was that no one owed it to them, but they didn't care and still forced their way through, no matter the people they would hurt on the way.

If he hadn't been in jail, he might have worked on that investigation too.

"...What happened to her, afterwards?"

"Well. Jane was particularly bright, gifted at using muggle science and logic to dissect magical problems in a new way. When they found her and Hesleden earned himself a life sentence in Azkaban, she'd entirely adjusted to the fact that magic existed, and, in a way, she understood it better than the common wizard. Moreover, St Mungo's stated that purging eight years out of her memory would be crueler than letting her live with it, so they advised the Ministry to let her be. They had her sign a binding contract of secrecy, and now she lives in Kinhaven."

"Devonshire?"

That was the mixed village James had gone to for schooling before Hogwarts. About a third of Devon County's wizarding population lived there. The Potter Country House was about one hour away by broom, and Ottery St Catchpole was on the other side of the county.

The other inhabitants were muggles who knew about magic, like Eleanor's friend – but for much different reasons. Them, they had witches and wizards amongst their relatives – by marriage, through a squib, or perhaps they were families of muggleborns.

"She's still living in our world, then?"

Eleanor smiled for the first time in a while – since she'd started retelling Jane Mauss' story. Even though it felt a bit uncertain, there was also a measure of pride in there.

"Jane's expertise is well-sought by theoretical researchers and practicing mages, actually. Many of them contact her to test the soundness of their reasoning before actually trying a new spell, which did prevent a few major mishaps, and many minor ones. It doesn't stop every research accident from happening, of course, but apparently St Mungo's sees fewer patients due to failed experimentation than they used to. I believe she also has an open contract with the Department of Mysteries, but of course she hasn't told me much about that one..."

Which was all well and dandy, but not very safe considering the current climate. Attacks on mixed villages had been almost as frequent as attacks on all-muggles towns during the first war, and now that the Death Eaters weren't hiding anymore...

A muggle who understood magic well enough to advise actual researchers would make the blood extremists more than unhappy.

"Did... Have the two of you considered her safety? It might be prudent to do something..."

Eleanor grimaced.

"I've been thinking about it. If... If you want to meet her someday, you could help me convince her. She's... I don't think she'll rebuke us, but unless we bring her ideas, something tangible to do for her protection, she could be a bit reluctant to let us help."

Sirius blinked and didn't answer right away.

Warding a muggle house – not something that was usually done. Most wards had to be monitored in one way or another, and muggles didn't know what to look for – then again, according to Eleanor, that wouldn't be a problem for Miss Mauss. He'd have to look into wards that used permanent magical sources, and, perhaps more importantly, alarms and ways out of the house and hiding spots so that the muggle woman wouldn't have to face potential attackers. Things that worked on their own, with no need for a magical activation...

A vanishing cabinet might be of use, actually.

He could use Emmeline's help, too.

"...Next week, if you want? I need to look into a few options if we're doing that..."

"Alright. I'll see with Dumbledore about meeting Jane, and I'll ask her about you too. I'm still unsure why exactly the headmaster needs my help, it's not like Jane is hiding away, but..."

Sirius shrugged, and didn't say that Dumbledore probably considered it more polite – and that going himself in broad daylight would likely put a bigger target on Eleanor's friend. If they arranged a meeting instead of him just popping in unannounced, however, they could make it more discreet.

Eleanor wasn't yet used to minimizing risks everywhere possible, even if she was already of a cautious nature. She hadn't been an adult when the first war ended, and despite the difficulties she'd faced as Thorfinn Rowle's sister, she hadn't been an outright target like the members of the Orders had been.

She'd have to learn that lesson soon – but Alastor gave a better paranoia speech than Sirius, and the retired auror had probably been itching to get to it with the three newcomers. They'd get it tomorrow, surely, right after the meeting's end.

Eleanor, who'd disappeared back into the kitchen, came back with dessert. She put two cups on the table, and Sirius spied bread and gardan butter pudding.

"How did you meet her, exactly?"

Eleanor gestured at her flat before breaking into her dessert.

"Real estate. She was looking for a place not too far from her parents but in a mixed village, and we redirected her to the muggle-relations expert who usually handles demands from non-wizarding relatives and parents of muggleborns who wishes to relocate."

"Oh."

That made sense.

"By the way, Lady Travers asked after you."

For once it hadn't been about whether Eleanor had a thing going on with the Black lord, or asking if she could introduce them. In fact, it had been the contrary.

Sirius' countenance picked up somehow, and Eleanor was reminded of a dog with its ears raised. She wasn't quite sure of what made her think that, and wondered if that was only because she knew he was a dog animagus – so she let it go for now.

"Really? How is Rebecca?"

"Well enough, I gather. Her daughter graduated last year. Can I ask what is your acquaintance?"

Sirius went to answer, but paused a moment.

This was going to sound weird.

Then again, he didn't know how he could make it sound less weird, so...

"I... worked with her half-brother at the Auror Office. Then I executed him, and I told her the news right in the middle of the Council of Houses. We danced once?"

In his defense, Julius Travers had turned out to be a Death Eater and Sirius hadn't known who he was when he'd blasted his head off. In fact, the only reason they'd been able to identify him afterwards was that he'd been wearing his lordship ring under his gloves – his face certainly hadn't been recognizable.

Considering Sirius had also brought her a ladyship and news of the murderer of Rebecca and Julius' father – surprise, it had been Julius himself – that night, she'd taken it all remarkably well.

Eleanor looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't quite know what.

She'd probably heard about it at some point – she just didn't have all the morbid details, like Sirius Black arriving late at the Council of Houses, still in his auror trainee robes, stained with half-dried blood, and distributing notices of execution to the Flint, Carrow, Bulstrode and Travers families.

Sirius forced a smile:

"So. What did Rebecca want?"

Eleanor gave him a look, but answered nevertheless.

"She thought you might want news of your adoptive daughter?"

Sirius froze.

It made sense for Rebecca Travers to know more about Juliet. Lady Travers had quickly offered quiet support for the children orphaned by her half-brother the night of his death, and she'd probably kept an interest in Juliet, since the girl was a witch unlike her brothers. Maybe they'd kept in contact even after Juliet took herself off the owling lists.

Eleanor continued – if she was curious about Juliet, she didn't let it show.

"Apparently she's on an apprenticeship in Australia, something about her changing her mind on the career she wanted? You'll have to ask Lady Travers for more details."

...Australia would explain why she hadn't reacted to news of his trial and innocence. She might not know at all, or perhaps she didn't have the time to leave her apprenticeship right away – and his letters hadn't reached her, once again courtesy of the owling lists.

He'd have to go and see Rebecca proper – not just a shared glance at his trial.

Before Sirius could think further on the subject, something let out three long notes in his cloak's pocket. Frowning, the wizard stood up and went to retrieve the mirror he'd left there.

Eleanor followed him.

It was Frank's face on the glass, with a background of the entrance hall in Longbottom Castle. The ex-auror had a streak of blood across his jaw.

Sirius tensed. Whereas Alice had stubbornly started getting back in shape – swearing she'd never let another Death eater get the drop on her, least of all in her own house – Frank had retreated from the field, spending most of his summer with his son or reviewing a safe-houses system for the Order.

There was no reason for him to be wounded, not unless he'd been attacked unprompted – once again.

"Sirius, get your ass over here, it's Emmeline!"

You might have noticed, but if not:
I posted two separate chapters in this series, one starting the story about the alternate possibility in time where Adhara lived and not Siriurs, and the other starting a list of conversations in Dumbledore's office during sixth year. The first chapter happens right after chapter 35.

Also, I've finished the floor plans of Black Manor, but since I don't have access to an A3 format scanner...