And we finally get to the part where Eliza gets a little bit more active in the story! There shall be some flashbacks to Regulus and Eliza's time. The story might have more chapters than initially planned. We have now reached the OOTP part of the story, and once Harry's parts are out fo the way (nothing against him, ily Harry but you are not really the focus here) we'll have a lil sociopolitical fun!
Song of the Day: RIIVERDANCE by Beyoncé
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Love,
Spring
They awoke to screaming. Not ones of terror but those of people fighting.
Eliza had migrated to the seat by the bedside at Madame Pomfrey's request so that Harry might have a good night's sleep. Eliza stayed beside him the entire time, whilst Sirius stood guard as Padfoot. It was the best he could do that moment, though she pitied that Sirius couldn't be himself.
There was screaming coming from the outside—Minerva, Eliza realised. It was Minerva, Dumbledore, and… the Cornelius Fudge!
Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Hermione, and Ron had already arrived to check up on Harry. However, Molly was more curious about the altercation that was happening right in front of the hospital wing's doors.
"It's as good as I did, Crouch is a lunatic!" the minister reasoned as they stepped through the door. "He cannot testify now! Were you to send a man to his death with trial?"
"What proof do we need?" the minister crossed his arms.
"What's going on?" Harry stirred.
"You let a dementor into Hogwarts?" Eliza's voice was cool. She felt unjust. Getting rid of Barty Crouch could be their downfall. The minister jumped, looking at the bed that housed Harry.
"You cannot believe what they are saying, Shafiq," the minister cleared his throat. "It's preposterous and only Potter's words can speak for what happens. It's him against a lunatic, now Potter –"
"I'm afraid you shall not question him tonight," Eliza said firmly. "I forbid it."
Dumbledore's cleared his throat. "As I told you, Cornelius."
The minister's eyes darkened, "So Dumbledore, you are willing to take his words?"
Padfoot growl. There was a back-and-forth between Dumbledore and Cornelius. Snape also spoke, showing the Dark Mark that burned on his forearm, faded but very much alive and moving. But there was no reasoning with the minister. Cornelius tossed Harry a thousand galleons – his winnings for the Triwizard Tournament – and left. He did not want to believe what Harry said about the Dark Lord. The old headmaster aged as the doors closed, taking a deep breath. Madame Promfrey's hands shook.
"Sir…?"
Dumbledore recomposed himself as if reaching a decision. Within minutes, Dumbledore sent Minerva, Bill, and Madame Pomfrey off with orders to gather people in what only could be the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Now, we need two people in this room to know – Sirius," Dumbledore called out. Sirius turned back into his form, his face grave looking as ever. Eliza did not get a proper look at his face later that night, but he looked as he did a year ago.
Snape scowled, "What is HE doing here?"
Dumbledore cut off Sirius before a fight could start. "You two are now on the same sides. Shake hands, because we will have a lot of work to do. And it won't be pretty… especially for you, Severus."
Reluctantly, the two adult men shook hands. Molly was in shock but quickly overcame it. Then, Snape left, his orders from Dumbledore so vague, but Eliza could only guess what they would be.
"But I don't want Sirius to leave," Harry muttered once it was clear that Sirius would have to leave now.
"We'll see each other soon," Sirius promised. His eyes met Eliza's, though she knew they were in for their next argument, an accusation crossing his eyes. But now wasn't the time. They didn't need a dumb lover's quarrel about her not visiting him now. So instead, he pressed a kiss to her lips. Molly let out a small sound of surprise, but Ron chided his mum. Dumbledore handed Sirius a letter.
"Stay low at Eliza and Remus' when you're done," Dumbledore said. Go ahead; I'll need to speak with Eliza, but you may leave."
She laid flowers on his grave. Mr. Manson's first name had been Ernest. She'd stayed back for the funeral, staying away from the mourning party so they may grieve alone. The coroners said that it was a heart attack and that he simply wanted to see what was happening in Moody's house after noticing a small scruffle of squirrels.
Between the funeral of Cédric Diggory and Mr. Manson, Eliza's heart felt like it could only hold much more grief. Harry's name was slandered and dragged through the mud with each Daily Prophet's arrival.
It was always an innocent life that would be taken away in the name of a senseless war. It wasn't a war just yet, but she could sense the crisis that arose. The wizarding world was wrapped up in a sense of safety, knit so tight no cracks would show. But those who lived outside of it knew better.
When the mourning party left, she wiped away a tear and laid marigolds on his grave. Ever since that night, the higher-ups had grounded her to the desk and sentenced her to endless paperwork. She knew no doubt that Cornelius Fudge was behind it all. It was a blessing in disguise, as that meant she could work for the Order. Everything needed to be in order before Harry returned to Privet Drive, where she should be keeping an eye on him with Arabella Figg, although the Order would rotate watch when she was away.
She hesitated when opening the box containing her correspondence with the court administrators. They held a world of hurt, one of a time she barely remembered. In those months following, she only remembered in snippets. Sirius would not be let it on it until they found a new headquarters and his mind was settled once more. She spent her free hours pouring over Wizarding Law books in the hopes that she could gather the facts in the case of Sirius.
Eliza leaned back in her chair, stirring her soup absentmindedly as Cade launched into yet another round of gossip. Her best source of chatter during their lunch hours was always Cade, and today seemed no different. She sighed, her thoughts drifting to Harry.
"Oh, I don't know, Eliza," Cade said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "A lot of our troubles would be better if there were enough veritaserum to go around. I mean, can you imagine if we could just get the truth out of everyone? Especially with all this business about You-Know-Who's return. It's madness."
Eliza nodded, her expression grave. "The Ministry's stance on the matter is baffling, but I am more concerned that Crouch was kissed just like that."
Cade's eyes widened with interest. "Exactly! I mean, what's Fudge playing at? And Ignoring the warnings of Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived? Although, maybe they're both insane. That's what Rita Skeeter says at least."
Eliza sighed."They're more concerned with saving face than protecting the wizarding world from the threat that's looming right under their noses."
Cade looked around and then leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not the nephew thing you mentioned on Halloween."
Eliza tensed, her spoon clattering against the bowl as she froze. "Pardon?"
"You seem to never speak of him, that's all," Cade continued, oblivious to Eliza's discomfort. "Some people say that… well, that Harry Potter is your nephew."
Eliza's mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. But before she could respond, Cade leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"And is it true that you don't talk about it because you're secretly married to a werewolf?" Cade whispered, unable to contain her curiosity.
Eliza felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she forced a laugh, deciding to play along. "Now, who have you been talking to? Who let you into my secrets?"
Cade laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I knew those were just hearsay. But you have to admit, it's fun to entertain the rumors sometimes, isn't it?"
Eliza forced a smile though her thoughts were elsewhere. As much as she enjoyed the distraction of gossip, her mind couldn't help but think about the Order being rebuilt.
"Don't believe everything you hear."
When the day was over, she waited by the park under the fall of night. Like clockwork, a dark dog padded up to her at midnight before turning himself into Sirius. As per Dumbledore's request, she had not returned to Remus's cottage since the night of the tournament a week ago. In his short letter, he told her to come to Islington tonight. And she knew exactly why.
Grimmauld Palace was the last place Eliza wanted to be.
"It's the only thing I can do," Sirius said grimly. "Dumbledore… he practically wants me to do nothing."
"You're a good planner, and you can be here for Harry," she said. They stood there in silence for a second before she asked the question that weighed on her mind.
"Are you okay?"
Sirius swallowed hard. "Okay since I'm out of the cave, but not better."
He took her hand in his, observing his pallor skin against her olive skin. He looked like a dead man walking, with Remus' clothes hanging off him. There wasn't much Eliza could say without getting her thoughts out of the way first. There was a lot she didn't want to keep a secret from him, and they would spill out of her mouth the moment she looked into his stagnant eyes, waiting for a sign of hope.
But she promised Dumbledore to wait.
"I… didn't visit much," Eliza began. "because I couldn't take it. I couldn't see you stuck there, even if you had your reasons."
He digested what she said and only squeezed her hand to tell her it was okay.
"I gathered that," he said solemnly. "I would have been angry – I was angry, but Remus sort of got mad at me. You two like to avoid your problems but defend each other well."
She snorted at that, but he wasn't wrong.
"So bad that someone thought we were married," Eliza joked, but Sirius still frowned.
"I don't like that."
"I won't rub it on your face" was her way of lightening the mood because she didn't want to do the task at hand. They both walked closer to the muggle apartment block. Grimmauld Place showed itself to her and Sirius, clear as day to them but not to those unaware of its existence.
She took a deep breath, eying the door lock. There was a slight flicker of light the closer she got to the key slot, a sign that it had been charmed. A melting charm was placed there to keep people out of the house. One wrong move, and you wouldn't be able to open the door no matter how much you tried.
She whispered a soft counter jinx, and the door unlocked. Turning around, she gestured for Sirius to go in front of her. The next jinx would be to deter anyone who wasn't of the Ancient House of Black.
Sirius stood in front of her; his wand posed for a threat.
"Do you see something?" he said loudly, which was a big mistake, kicking up the dust. In the eerie silence of 12 Grimmauld Place, where dust motes danced in the dim light, the portrait of Walburga Black hung on the wall, its frame ornate, sprung open as a gust of wind opened the curtains. Suddenly, with a shrill, piercing scream that seemed to echo through the corridors, the portrait's painted lips parted, and it spat venomous words.
"You filthy blood traitors! Mudblood lovers! How dare you defile the noble name of Black with your presence! Get out of my house! OUT!"
Eliza covered her ears, the voice of Walburga Black sending trembles of fear throughout her body. This place had been her open prison, where she would have become Mistress Black. The months she spent listening to them talk, ignoring what was happening in their world, and the only happy memory in this house was anything that involved escaping.
Sirius cast a silencing charm, but it did not affect the portrait.
Closing her eyes, she slammed the curtain over the portrait, and it stopped. The house lay quiet once more.
"Sorry, I should haven't have said anything."
"Don't be," Eliza squeezed his hand and led him further into the house. Molly Weasely would have her work cut out for her in this house, but the least Eliza could do was make it easier. She looked around, checking for signs of any more traps, but the corridor was safe.
"The rooms may have some traps, but we should slowly work on that over the summer, make it live-able again."
"I vote we get rid of the dark interior," Sirius said gruffly. "What's the current trend, huh?"
"Colours," Eliza recounted, although she wrinkled her nose thinking about the terrible coffee-stain colour that was in. "But if we do get a new couch, I would like one of those massaging chairs – "
Eliza and Sirius Black exchanged a puzzled glance as clattering pots and pans echoed from the kitchen area. They hurried down the narrow corridor without hesitation, their footsteps echoing. As they reached the kitchen doorway, the cacophony of noise intensified, accompanied by grumbling and muttering in an unmistakable voice.
Pushing open the door, they were met with the sight of Kreacher, the ancient and grizzled house elf, surrounded by a chaotic mess of overturned cookware. His large, bat-like ears twitched furiously as he frantically ran at them, holding a pot in his hands poised to strike.
"INTRUDERS! MY MADAME –"
"MUDBLOODS -" The portrait of Walburga screamed again.
"Oh PISS OFF!" Sirius yelled and closed the curtains shut again.
The house-elf froze mid-motion, eying the two.
"Master Sirius, Mistress Black," Kreacher croaked, bowing low before them, though he seemed to do it more out of obligation than anything. "Kreacher was merely... attempting to say hello."
"What a hello," Sirius grumbled.
Eliza stepped forward, her expression softening. "Kreacher, you're here."
"Misstress Black?"
"Mistress?" Sirius scoffed. "Did my mother make him say that?"
"Yes," Eliza rolled her eyes. "Kreacher, you're still here?"
He scowled. "Where else would I be?"
"You'd think that after everyone died you would have gone to someone else."
"The house belongs to you, so I am stuck here because..." Kreacher did not say.
"Because what?"
"Master Regulus," Kreacher sounded sorrowful. "He told me to wait here."
"Charming," Sirius grumbled. "Well, Kreacher. Care to clean up a bit?"
Eliza frowned at Sirius. He had never been kind to the house elf for reasons she could only presume. Sirius was the first to say see how someone treats their inferiors, to only backtrack on it.
"Kreacher, have you eaten?"
"Maggots," Kreacher had always been meagre but looked even worse. "Water and rats."
"We need to get you something, and everyone else that should be here," Eliza looked at Sirius.
"Will Misstress be staying as well?"
She nodded. "Yes, Kreacher. I'll be grocery shopping tomorrow, if you want to come along. Can you prepare us rooms?"
The house elf nodded and left the room, mumbling under his breath about blood traitors.
"Why is he so kind to you?" Sirius grumbled. "Or less terrible at least."
"Have you considered how you're treating him?" she asked. Sirius crossed his arms and said nothing. She took it as a silent defeat until he opened his mouth again.
Sirius mumbled, "Or maybe it has something to do with you and Regulus."
"Regulus is dead, Sirius," Eliza reminded him. "Kreacher has no ties to me now. Besides, we have lots to do before Dumbledore comes here."
Sirius sighed. Nevertheless, he looked at a bottle of Firewhisky that was unopened on the shelf and opened it. Without asking, he poured Eliza a dram and a bigger amount into his glass.
"Cheers, big ears," he joked darkly. "To our home."
It was late, so they retired to sleep. They walked up the stairs to the topmost level. Kreacher was seen walking out of Regulus' room, the doors opened of the two rooms they would stay in. Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Eliza shushed him.
"Thank you, Kreacher."
The house elf disappeared to his quarters, leaving Eliza and Sirius alone.
"You're not coming to mine?" Sirius asked.
"I need my own space, you know," she said. "When the kids come and they need more space, we can talk about it."
"But..." Sirius clenched his jaw, struggling.
She raised her eyebrow. "I'm not saying I won't come into your room to sleep sometimes."
"Alright." He briefly eyed Regulus's room before disappearing into his own, shutting the door behind him slightly forcefully.
Eliza's teta always told her to ask for forgiveness when approaching the dead. If you wear their clothes or enter their room, their ghosts will take offence and visit their dreams. She prayed Regulus wouldn't be mad at her for sleeping in his bed.
The room seemed frozen in time, a silent sanctuary filled with echoes of the past. The walls were adorned with faded tapestries depicting noble Black ancestors, their stern gazes seeming to pierce through the veil of time. A grand mahogany bed dominated the space, its canopy draped in rich velvet curtains that whispered secrets of forgotten dreams. A polished oak desk stood against one wall, cluttered with parchment and quills. A photo of their Quidditch team rested in a frame, their young faces smiling back at them.
Closing her eyes, Eliza let out a heavy sigh, the weight of grief and longing settling upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She wanted to turn around and sleep in Sirius' room, but she feared he wouldn't let her in.
Kreacher laid a fluffy blanket for her and left the window open for the fresh air. Hours passed in a blur as Eliza lay in the cocoon of Regulus's room, her mind adrift in a sea of memories. And as the moon rose high in the night sky, casting its gentle glow through the window, she knew that, for now, this was where she needed to be—finding solace in the quiet corners of her memories.
The heavy oak door of Grimmauld Place creaked open the next day.
"Professor Dumbledore, it's good to see you," Sirius greeted, though he still sounded pissed.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with warmth as he returned the greeting, his gaze shifting to Eliza with a nod of acknowledgment.
"There weren't any troubles?"
Eliza shook her head. "No, the place should be ready but we can't seem to take down the portrait of Walburga."
"It's a small inconvenience," Dumbledore said solemnly. The others will come next week, and so will all of the Weasley children."
Dumbledore inclined his head in appreciation before turning his attention to Sirius, his expression growing more serious as he eyed the escaped convict.
"Sirius, there is a matter of great importance that I must discuss with you," he began, "It concerns your future."
Sirius's brow furrowed in confusion, but he remained attentive as Dumbledore continued.
"I intend to petition the Ministry of Magic for a trial for you," Dumbledore explained, his voice unwavering. "I believe there is a chance to clear your name to help Harry."
Sirius's breath caught in his throat at the revelation,
"A trial?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dumbledore nodded solemnly, his expression sympathetic.
The facts as it were after Sirius left the Hospital Wing the night Cedric Diggory died. Dumbledore had hushed Eliza out of the infirmary. She had a sinking feeling about what it would be about. The Ministry does not believe Harry; they assemble what is left of the Order, and the Dark Lord is back.
But above all, Harry was crumbling.
"I need you to return to Privet Drive to keep an eye on Harry, but don't –"
"No," she cut off Dumbledore. "I will not only watch him from afar."
"He may know nothing until we've assessed everything," Dumbledore said gravely. "Anything we say and write will be under scrutiny. He is best off at the Dursley, and you and Arabella shall be alright."
"If you think," Eliza warned. "That I will leave him alone after what happened tonight, you are mistaken. I don't want to believe for one second that you don't know what isolation can and will do to a person. He doesn't have any family in Privet Drive. Petunia doesn't want him, and you are willing to let him go back to that accursed household?"
"You know exactly why he has to," Dumbledore said gently. "We'll collect him as soon as possible."
"No," Eliza crossed her arms. "I want to be there."
"It would blow Arabella Figg's cover."
Eliza breathed heavily. "You won't hear the end of this, Dumbledore."
"I need your wits and minds on Sirius," Dumbledore reasoned. She felt the graveness in his voice. Once more, the old headmaster sounded as he looked. " We… I made a mistake years ago not speaking for him as a member of the Wizengamot. I couldn't have contradicted Crouch then, but I most certainly could have spoken up more when you called for his trial. I could have gotten the court to let him confess under veritaserum. Cornelius acted rashly, so we must work quickly, and I need you to be of sound mind when this happens."
It finally dawned on Eliza what he meant. They should reopen the case of Sirius, which had been constantly denied to her years ago. No reasoning, no nothing.
"Now? Of all times?"
He nodded.
"And you know precisely how to play the game. You've always known."
Dumbledore left her alone in the corridor, dread creeping up on her. Whatever grief would come, and whatever anger left in her will burn tenfolds.
