Thanks so much for all the favorites and reviews! They really mean a lot and kept this chapter in the works even with a stressful work week. It's Spring Break now though!
Miranda was writing in her diary after her shift had ended, nursing a caffeine laden expresso behind the counter. Cathy, the night waitress stood next to her, rambling about how her boyfriend had cheated on her. It didn't matter that she had cheated on him first. Or maybe that had been the last boyfriend? Regardless, Miranda wanted to shove a sock down the other girl's throat. That was possibly the biggest difference fifty four years had made. Relationships weren't sacred anymore. There was often none of the charming courting of her days, and more single women than not would have been considered unseemly harlots.
She'd lived without incident for four torturous months in this new and confusing time. Her quiet nature kept her unnoticed, and her Papa and Claudius had always taught her to adapt to situations. The hardest thing about this time was that she had no way to get back to magical London, no way to get back to them. They'd always flooed to Diagon Alley, and she could inexplicably no longer remember exactly where Walburga's house had been. She was out in the cold. Even her wand, which had never been registered with the Ministry, meant that her use of magic went unnoticed. She had never imagined that she would regret that anonymity.
That had allowed her to confund the little woman who owned the diner to allow her to live in the two room flat above the small establishment. It wasn't much, just a toilet with a shower she'd spent two days trying to figure out how to work, a bed and a small bookshelf, but it was enough. A cushioning charm on the worn mattress made the bed actually decent. She never left anything more than a few books in the room, a tiny voice in the back of her mind always warning her to be prepared.
Her wand not being registered meant that she couldn't even count on it to alert people in the magical world of her presence so they could find her. Short of running out in the middle of London and cursing people, Miranda didn't know how she was going to get back. Or if she even wanted to. The betrayal of her Papa and best friend hurt her more than she cared to admit.
She could handle Muggle life, really, she could, but these people didn't understand her. Excluding her muggle family she'd only met once, she had only ever met one Muggleborn in her entire post-orphanage life until wandering into Muggle London.
Brennan Evans had secretly courted Walburga for her last two years of school, and he had been quick-witted, charming and engaging. With Claudius and Kreacher ordered into silence, the two girls had often met Brennan in Diagon Alley for tea and danishes. Miranda had genuinely approved of the two together.
Now, she didn't even know if they were alive, if anyone she'd known was still alive. Witches and wizards lived far longer than muggles, but there had been a war going on, a war Brennan himself had enlisted in. He was a wizard, so that gave him some protection from muggle weaponry, but she couldn't be sure he hadn't gotten killed. Surely he hadn't been aware of Walburga's treachery. No, he would have stopped her.
Of all the people from her past, Brennan was the only one she wasn't pissed at. He was also a muggleborn who had been…a muggleborn. He had understood both her and the world she'd come from, even better than Walburga had. They hadn't been just exorbitantly close, but she missed him and would have loved his help in navigating all the things she was unused to. He would have known how to dial a telephone.
Miranda was so caught up in her anger, despair, and crippling self pity, that she didn't even notice the two other teens rush into the diner. Only when her expresso was emptied and she had to drag herself out of the bottom of her cup did she realize that Cathy was actually working and no longer whining, and also found herself looking at the teenagers sitting in the far booth. A soft noise drew her gaze from them to look up the stairs leading to her flat.
Fawkes, the Pheonix who's tears resided in her wand, had found her a few days after she had woken up. He came and went as he pleased, generally content to immolate himself on her bed and eat leftover pastries. He had never come downstairs before, but there he was, sitting on the railing. He swung his magnificent head towards the group and nodded once at Miranda before flaming away.
She looked at the teenagers again, confused by the magical creature's interest in them. He was usually only interested in preening himself all over the floor during the day, which usually left her cleaning up feathers. Those days were at least better than the ones where he turned her bed into a nest and burst into flames. Those days required a great deal more clean up.
The teenagers though, they'd drawn his interest. Miranda took a moment to study them: The flame haired boy was big, obviously tall with broad shoulders. While she couldn't see his face, she imagined him to be fairly handsome. The girl had a paranoid, harried look to her, obviously uncomfortable about having her back to the door. She was pretty though, brown hair curled in the same wild way Walburga's had, framing a face she had noticeably grown into. They made a pretty couple, and had the girl not looked so panicked, her brown eyes skimming all over the place, Miranda might not have noticed the strange shimmer in the air next to the boy.
She slid the silver snake off her wrist, fighting the spirited thing a bit as it tried to cling to her before setting it on the countertop in front of her so she could look without it's assistance. Everything was black and she was disoriented for a second in the darkness, orienting herself a few seconds later. There were three magical energies sitting in the booth, not just two. Her instincts were right. Sure enough, something was there, and it was magical, shimmering green next to the red headed boy. Naturally, it was invisible, which was a fabulous sign. She put the snake back on, and color and shapes flooded into her sight when it twined itself back around her wrist happily, if a bit tighter than usual. Her Papa hadn't told her that
The couple in the booth finally spoke to each other in hushed tones, the girl's voice taking on a shrill note as she shot down something the boy had said to her. They shut up quickly, the girl looking more disgruntled than before. She was going to get wrinkles if she kept that up. Cathy took their orders, barely sparing Miranda a glance before filling two mugs and taking them back to the table.
When two men walked into the diner, Miranda felt herself stand, drawing her wand out of her purse and putting it in her back pocket, something an old friend had told her not to do. Instinct told her something was about to go down, and she wasn't going to let the young couple be harmed since they had resumed talking at the arrival of the workmen. The boy said something that caused Cathy to glare at him, before going to the other table, where she was quickly dismissed by one of the workers.
They hadn't ordered anything.
The girl reached for her bag. Miranda drew her wand up an instant before the workmen-wizards pulled theirs. One saw her, but the other kept his eyes glued on the young couple. The shimmer rose as the flame haired boy pushed the girl over in her seat from across the table with a lunge. The spells from the men barely missed him.
A disembodied voice yelled, "Stupefy!", and the bigger of the men fell to the ground.
Cathy screamed but Miranda clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her to the ground. It wouldn't do for the muggle chit to be killed on her watch. The remaining man cast a spell, covering the boy in black ropes. Cathy broke free of Miranda with a scream and headed for the door in an instant. A stunning spell hit Cathy in the back, making her fall, her momentum causing her to slide and come to rest just in front of the door. Miranda was focused on Cathy for a moment, and when one of the tables blew up, it caught her off guard. She fell back out of her crouch with a squeak.
When she recovered her balance, a black haired boy was standing behind the blown up table. The shimmer. Had to have been some kind of spell, but why had he been hiding? The girl cast a quick body bind, subduing the remaining assailant. Miranda watched as the girl obliviated the two men and Cathy after a few tense seconds of debate between the three. It seemed that none of them had ever tried the Memory Charm before. Neither had Miranda, but she knew how to, and was very aware that it was tricky business. They fixed up the diner, the flame haired boy and the girl bickering amusingly. The three then began talking about how the two men had found them.
Miranda couldn't take her eyes off of the dark haired boy, his face illuminated by a stream of light from outside in the now dark cafe. He looked so familiar, when she got a good look at his face, as he turned to face his friends, she knew why. His eyes were the same color and shape Brennan Evans' had been. He also resembled Tom a great deal, but it might have just been the hardened look he had on his face. The compulsion to stand and reach out to him struck Miranda, just to see what his pale skin felt like, to see if a creature that looked like the men from her past were real, but, just before she stood, she heard two words the dark haired boy said: "Grimmmauld Place."
His companions gaped at him and Miranda felt herself take a sharp breath. Could he be a Black? They spent a few minutes debating about someone named Snape before the boy won the argument, saying the girl's name, Hermione, with the hard expression of a leader before finishing out what seemed to have been an effective statement. Miranda was too far away to hear much more than the rich timber of his voice.
The girl unlocked the door and the flame haired boy turned the lights back on by using a metal object that glinted in his hands. As the lights came back on, Miranda Disillusioned herself, walking quickly to stand behind them, making sure that her trainers made no more noise on the tile floor than the other three's did. They reversed the spells on the two men and Cathy, disapperating only a moment later. Miranda took a soft hold of the girl's bag, careful not to pull, and let herself be tugged along with them.
They landed in a square Miranda recognized instantly, as if she and Walburga had only been playing in it yesterday. She saw the old iron bench that Alphard had often read on as they had played, too shy to play with them. The three she was following didn't give her time to stop and stare at all the memories this little garden, in all it's disrepair, held. They ran to what looked like to Miranda, a seam between to of the houses. She followed closely, and breathed a sigh of relief when the house appeared in a cacophony of shaking brick and mortar. The three went inside but Miranda just let herself crumple onto the front steps. She was home, or as close as she could get to home. She'd always felt safer in the dusky, quiet halls of Grimmauld Place than at the castle in Bulgaria.
It was home: Cygnus running about, harassing the elves, Alphard shooting her glances that made her know he had a crush on her, Mr. and Mrs. Black welcoming her for dinner, Walburga casting spells in her room, where small explosions were common, and the potions room they had all let Miranda experiment in to her heart's content. The castle she had lived in with her Papa had just been the two of them and Claudius. As much as they had seemed to love her, they had kept her severely limited. Her passion for potions had been stifled in favor of studying wands, a hobby that Claudius had been better able to negate the ill results of. The castle had been a million times better than the orphanage for obvious reasons of course, but Grimmauld Place had been home during those last few years of her life before.
For the first time since she woke up, Miranda truly realized that everyone she knew was probably dead or very old. Walburga had to be dead. She knew that much, the Black heiress had always told her that no matter what, she would never leave Grimmauld Place. The only reason Miranda could think of as reason for Walburga to not be in the house was if she had gotten disowned, and that was incomprehensible, regardless of her love affair with a muggleborn. Walburga would have brought him into the house and expelled the rest of them before she would have left her beloved home.
Under her fingers, Miranda found her answer. Names etched into the stone. In a child's writing were two names, Sirius and Regulus. Miranda felt a sob catch in her throat. Walburga's children. They had to be, Walburga had always said that she would name her son's Sirius and Regulus. Brennan had been fond of the name Sirius himself:
"Brennan had the most splendid idea while we were talking the other evening. He'd like to name our first son Sirius, you know, to honor my family's tradition. I think Regulus is a fine name too though, don't you?" Walburga had prattled on, stirring a cauldron as it sizzled and steamed.
"Careful with that, Burga, you're letting it get too hot." Miranda had advised, ready at any moment to extinguish possible flames.
Walburga had rolled her eyes, "Oh, enough of that, you. Just because you're a potions genius doesn't mean I can't monitor my own cauldron without incident. Regulus: what do you think?"
Miranda hadn't hesitated to answer, "I think I like the name Sirius better. What if you two have girls?"
"I'll name my first daughter after you of course." The girl had said easily, throwing her arm around Miranda's shoulder, "But only if you name your's after me."
Miranda had raised an eyebrow, lowering the intensity of the fire, "I know Miranda is a fair name, but Walburga? Even you hate your name."
The heiress had laughed, "Well, you could name her Burga or Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes, my middle name. Walburga Elizabeth Black."
The name that had been said with a cocky flair faded around Miranda like a mist. They'd had that conversation upon the very porch she was slumped on, allowing the steam from the cauldron to evaporate while the ventilation spells in the potions room had been on the fritz. And now, Walburga was more than likely dead.
Miranda could have sat there forever, memories of a life that had been stolen away from her seeming to come alive. She didn't have the strength to go inside, she didn't feel like trying to introduce herself to the three teens who were obviously more than equipped to take her down. Taking off her black coat to use as a pillow, Miranda laid on the porch and closed her eyes.
It didn't take long to find Tom, it never did these days. He was sitting in a plush chair, watching a boy of about eighteen torture the big blond wizard from the diner. A huge snake wound around his ankles, but his angry expression pulled her attention from the reptile. She still hadn't gotten used to his new form, this grotesque man-snake combination didn't sit right, it wasn't right.
*"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time... You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure... Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"
Miranda felt anger surge in herself and a log fell in the fire, pushed by the power she channeled in these vision-dreams, lighting up the face of the tortured torturing boy, pale and afraid, but ultimately handsome. It also lit up Tom's face, but in a shadow, hovering just in front of his distorted reptilian features, Miranda saw the black haired boy that was currently in Grimmauld Place. The face was only there for an instant before it disappeared completely.
Miranda stood next to the fire for another hour, watching the brother she had once known force another to torture. When he finally sent the others away, the snake included, she approached him, "Tom."
His slit eyes grew wider, "Who dares speak that name? Show yourself!"
She knew he couldn't see her, in these dreams she was nothing more than a shadow, a disembodied voice. Even looking at his horrid face, she still couldn't forget how handsome her Tom had been, before this creature had taken him over.
In her dreams, Miranda had watched the darkness seep into him. She had been convinced that he was just curious like she was and unheeding of boundaries, at least she had been until the Basilisk in his sixth year. Before that girl had died, Miranda had believed the lie he showed everyone in his school. She knew what he had done to himself. The first time she had seen him after she had woken up she had recognized the deterioration of his body and soul. Horcruxes. Her Papa had told her about them, but only under the condition that she never attempt to do anything like that to herself. After hearing the revolting requirements, Miranda had put the concept out of her mind. Tom was fractured, parts he had wished to suppress had been taken and stored in someone or something else. He wasn't her brother anymore, not really, but she couldn't help how she felt.
Miranda stepped closer to her mutilated twin, and whispered, "I love you, Tom," before forcing herself into her own realm of dreams.
When she woke up, she nearly screamed, standing right over her was a house elf. She blinked once before throwing her arms around him, "Claudius!"
The elf squeaked, "Mistress!"
His bony arms around her were a much missed comfort. "Where have you been?" She said, sitting up, letting the bedraggled elf go.
He smiled, stroking the side of her face, "Claudius was in Hogwarts, but Master told Claudius to check here for Mistress when Headmaster died. Claudius has come every day since, Mistress. Claudius missed his Mistress."
"Master? Where's Papa?" Was her Papa alive? Miranda hadn't expected that. He'd been old before, well into wizarding middle age, and over fifty years had passed.
The elf shook his head, "Claudius shouldn't have said that. Claudius hasn't seen Master since Mistress did last. He sent both of us away the same day. Master is so thoughtful, to keep Mistress safe. Yous was supposed to have been in Grimmauld Place, but only Kreacher was there when I's got there. Claudius must get Mistress inside."
The elf tried to pull Miranda to the door but she wasn't small anymore, and she knew better now than to take anything he said at face value. He, Walburga, and her Papa had thoroughly killed that naive girl when they'd locked her in that room. She had a horrible feeling in her stomach, "Claudius, where is Papa?"
The elf looked to his feet, "Master is in Nurmengaurd, a prisoner. Put there by his love. Master did not wish you to know of his illicit doings, and still wishes for you not to know the details. Claudius is only to ensure that you are unharmed and to tell you to stay far away from Nurmenguard. He doesn't want you to see him that way. You're also to continue to use the name Peverell and stay alive."
Miranda couldn't catch her breath, her papa was alive, but he didn't want her to be with him. It made sense, he was in prison after all and she was likely to strangle him for trapping her if she saw him, but it still hurt. Maybe the naive girl wasn't as dead as she'd like to think after all.
"Claudius?" Miranda said, crouching next to him, "Are you alright? At Hogwarts?"
Claudius nodded, his eyes welling with tears. "Claudius is a free elf now, he was given a hanky!"
Miranda let him steady himself before requesting softly, "Go back there then, and I will call for you if I need you, old friend." She hesitated, "If you see my Papa, tell him I don't agree with what he did, but… I still love him."
The elf blinked, tears in his tennis ball sized eyes, "I will, Mistress. Oh, Claudius doesn't want to leave Mistress, but I will. Please, call for me, even if all Mistress needs is a hanky or a hug. One word, and Claudius will come to Mistress."
She kissed the elf on his aged forehead, "Thank you, Claudius. Now, go." The elf disappeared with a pop.
Miranda looked at the door of Number Twelve forlornly. Taking a breath, she entered. It hadn't changed much. It had just gotten dustier and darker, less warm. This was no longer just a home that was happy past the strain of madness, it was madness. There was no life in it anymore. The home was gone, the house was all that remained, and it absolutely killed her.
The three others were no where in sight, so, wand drawn protectively in front of her, Miranda walked up the stairs, mindful of the sixth step that had always creaked. She couldn't bring herself to look at the portrait that had hidden her impromptu tomb, but the door to the tapestry room was open and Miranda couldn't resist taking a look, trying to glean more knowledge of the new Black family from the portrait. Perhaps the boy with Brennan's eyes was a Black. Walburga's grandson, perhaps?
Her childish theories were dashed when she examined the cloth. Walburga's magic was all over it, angry unfamiliar magic Miranda didn't want to recognize. People were blown off the tapestry entirely. It hadn't been scorched like that before. Miranda traced the name below one of the scorch marks, "Alphard." Her first love. She pressed a kiss to it, "Oh, Al, what did you do to anger her?"
Cygnus' face, on the other hand, was unharmed. It didn't make sense, Alphard had always been Walburga's favorite brother. She had all but hated Cygnus. Walburga had loathed how tediously petty her youngest brother was, but she had loved Alphard's quick wit. She couldn't have blown Alphard's face off the tapestry. Others were gone too, from those that hadn't been there when Miranda had seen the tapestry last, Black's she'd never gotten the chance to meet. Miranda held her hand over the charred face of Sirius, Walburga's son. "Revelio."
Her magic cast a mist out that solidified, playing like a moving picture show around her, obscuring reality as the past played over the dust in the air:
She was in the same room, but the green chair was back in the corner and years had been taken off the tapestry. Walburga was standing next to her, looking at the tapestry. She traced the handsome face of her son. He was handsome, his eyes the same silver color of Walburga's, his wild black hair could have come from either of them, but his smile, the way the corners of his mouth turned up lopsidedly into a mischievous grin, that was Brennan through and through. The tapestry may have claimed him as Orion's, but to Miranda, it was obvious that Sirius Black was Brennan Evan's son.
Walburga was older, her hair had gray in it and Miranda's heart broke to see it pulled up in the same severe bun that Irma had always kept her own hair in. She had aged poorly, her still beautiful face lined with stress induced wrinkles. "Sirius." She whispered, staring with wild eyes at her son's magically embroidered face, "Why? You had everything. Why did you turn your back on me? What can they give you that I can't? Filthy blood traitors."
"Walburga, he thinks you hate him." Alphard was standing behind her. He looked like Pollux Black, his father, but the kindness and softness on his face made the severe lines of his features seem handsome. And Miranda could have grown old right beside him, she would have, actually. Everyone had assumed they would marry, even they had assumed so. But others had conspired against that future, and Miranda hadn't had a clue until that door had clicked shut behind her.
Walburga turned to him, distraught, waving her hands and wand about, "I don't! I don't hate him! I never could, he's just so stubborn. It's them I hate, filthy muggle lovers." Walburga had changed since Miranda had seen her last, a lot.
"Burga..." Alphard began.
Her face contorted in disgust, "Stop calling me that. I hate when people call me that. I'm not a child. I'm fifty years old, Alphard. You don't hear me calling you 'Al' any longer."
Alphard snorted and Walburga stared at him, "You know, you haven't liked anyone calling you Burga since Brennan died. I think you still love him. You wouldn't hate muggleborns as much if you didn't." He sighed heavily, "You always swore that we would never become our parents."
"We didn't, Alphard. I did. You didn't. I am the matriarch of the Noble House of Black. When mother died, I took up my rightful place. I live to make good the name of the house of my forefathers. My son is a stain upon our noble family." She gave her own heavy sigh, "Regelus, he is a good son. He makes me proud." She set her jaw, still looking at her sons on the family tree.
Alphard shook his head in frustration, lips pursed, "What happened to you, Burga? We used to be alike. I always had my travels, looking for new magic and you, Burga, you were a brilliant spell mistress." He paused, staring at her, and Miranda knew he was dying for his big sister to look at him. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, "I haven't seen you create a spell since Sirius was born." Alphard looked like he knew that this would be the last time he would see his sister.
"It's only been sixteen years. I've gotten old, Alphard."
"Walburga, you haven't created a spell since he was born the first time, in nineteen forty five, thirty years ago. You don't have your drive anymore. We could have been great. We could have brought great fame to the House of Black. We said we would change the world. The three of us..."
If possible, Walburga went even more rigid, "Exactly, Alphard, three. Miranda is gone. We will never see her again. None of those old promises mean anything. I'm content to make my son the best he can be. He will serve the Dark Lord." Walburga's silver eyes were colder than Miranda'd ever seen them. It felt weird to hear them talking about her when she was standing right beside them. It felt wretched that her chance to be there in real life had been stolen from her by her own father and best friend.
"The Dark Lord, Burga, exactly, Miranda's brother. We run the risk every time you bring him here that he might suspect something, that he might look inside our minds and see where you hid her. It's too dangerous to be around him. Our mother died because she served the first Dark Lord, and he will be your downfall too if you let him."
"I'm not our mother, Alphard. You need to leave." She sounded defeated.
"Why? So you can blow your son out of the family because he went to spend the weekend with his best friend? Be rational. He'll come back." Alphard wouldn't let her let her son go without a fight. He was Brennan's son, the only part of him left in the world since his muggle family had removed themselves from the magical world by having their memories of Brennan altered upon his death.
The corner of her mouth twitched up, almost a smile, "He won't. He won't come back, he's gone for good this time. I know it. I am his mother after all." She touched her son's face on the wall, "It's better for everyone this way. He'll be happier there. He never was happy here. I think he knew, somewhere deep down, that he wasn't Orion's son and that I hated him for that. I won't have to look at him everyday and be reminded of Brennan. This will be best for everyone."
Alphard sagged against the wall, his age showing, "You might be right there. I never understood though, why you can't handle Brennan being gone. Father killed him. You shouldn't blame yourself for that. Our father was a self-righteous mad man. He went nutters when Mum died. But you, when he killed Brennan, you died too."
"I lied to you, Alphard. Father didn't kill Brennan, I did. This needs to be done." She stepped back from the wall, and Miranda flinched as she scorched her oldest son from the tapestry.
Alphard was looking at his only sister in horror. "You are mad, aren't you? I'm going to Sirius. I'll get him sorted out. But I'm not bringing him back here. You would kill him now, wouldn't you?"
"If I see him, yes. Unless he's coming to take those awful pennants off his walls." She said coldly. "If you go to him, you will meet the same fate."
Alphard stuck his chin out like Miranda had seen Walburga do so many times in the past. "So be it, because I will not abandon the son of my sister and my best friend. Have a good life, Walburga, I hope you're happy with how this all turned out." He turned on the spot and was gone. Walburga sank to the ground, her face in her hands, large skirts looming around her.
As Miranda returned to the present, she could still hear Walburga's sobs echoing in the room, chilling her to the bone. Miranda closed her eyes, her best friend had been gone for a long time, but Brennan's son, he must still be alive. She made up her mind, she would find him one day, and show him how she had seen his mother, the young, happy Walburga he had deserved to have as a mother, and would have had if fate hadn't gone so horribly wrong. "I'm sorry, Burga." She'd lost a lot in those days, and she had never recovered, not even for the sake of her son, her Sirius.
"How did you get in here?" A voice said from the door and Miranda gasped, turning to face it, her wand up.
The shimmer, the boy with Brennan's eyes, was standing in the doorway, the other two behind him. Miranda opened her mouth to explain herself, even though she had meant to stay hidden, but the only thing that came out was, "Bugger."
This chapter did quite a bit of history revision from canon, but now we finally have Harry! was it worth it?
-Jenn
