Julius had a bone to pick with Dumbledore.
He could excuse petrifying monsters in the walls, wacky hijinks that ended in a second year going to the medical wing for extended periods of time twice in one year, his mom becoming a teacher. Hell, he'd even excuse the headmaster keeping the school open while a murderer was confirmed to be in the castle actively trying to murder a student. Sometimes things were out of his hands and Dumbledore was just one man.
But if he was going to allow students to keep pets was it so hard to require that those pets stay in their designated areas?
Julius was having a decent night for once. Spending the last hour or so cramming for the end of year exams before having to do his Prefect rounds and heading off to bed. Nothing too out of the ordinary until a large toad outside the Gryffindor common room hopped across his feet while he was in the middle of a moving staircase.
"Merlin's tit!" He curses as he takes the harsh tumble down in an attempt to avoid stepping on it. He rolls down the flight, feeling every step on the way down, a particularly hard knock on his temple making him see stars. It's only slightly worse feeling than after a game of quidditch, but coupled with the knocked wind from his lungs and sheer embarrassment, Julius was content to lay face down on the floor till he died a swift death.
Luckily Prefect rounds were meant to not have an audience, students ideally in their commonrooms and heading to bed. When no one comes he thinks the stars have aligned in his favor for once, lifting his spinning head up to confirm that he was indeed alone. He debates for a moment whether it was worth it to go to Madame Pomfrey's or just curl up in his bed and tough the bruises out.
If he went straight to his dorm he'd have to tell Cassisus why he looked like he'd just fell down the stairs.
Julius groans as he pushes himself up and starts shuffling to the medical wing, choosing to avoid the laughing fit his 'friend' would have in his face for his misfortune.
The full moon is high in the sky, lighting up the dark hallway in a silvery light by the time he makes it to the double doors. The air is quiet on the late spring night, something Julius would count himself grateful for as the possible concussion induced headache started to make itself known.
He thinks he's made the right call coming to the medical wing when he sees his reflection staring back at him. Not from the glass window oddly enough but tucked into the corner of the wall just outside the infirmary. Merlin, he looked like a mess. His hair stuck out in every direction, robes covered in dust or dirt as his wide eyes stared back at him.
Yeah definitely a concussion. He was going to talk to Madame Pomfrey.
Julius sighs, rubbing his eyes of the hallucination before stumbling into the infirmary.
Galatea hesitates at a door she never had before. Her hand on the doorknob and key in the lock ready to be turned. She leans her head against the green painted wood and debates, not for the first time, going home. Preserving her feelings and curling into her vacant bed.
She just about convinces herself to leave when her key turns without her touching it and the door swings open to a frowning Anjali. She looked paler, slimmer than the last time Galatea had laid her eyes on her. Her hair was still short, an even bob stopped just above her shoulders, keeping her waves at a length that was manageable with one arm. She looked beautiful.
"Gala." Her lover's voice greets. Galatea's chest tightens at the coldness of her tone but it was a pain she brought upon herself.
"Anjali." Galatea bows her head in deference. "You look well. I'm glad."
The dark haired woman huffs, giving her own once over of Galatea's tired form. "You look terrible."
Galatea felt terrible. A fussing toddler kept her up at night. The realization that a life was solely dependent on her kept her up during the day. Her chest ached, her back ached, everything ached with a dull throb she tries to tell herself she's grown accustomed to. Motherhood was definitely not her strong suit.
Galatea looked up at her lover and knew her well enough to be the kind that wouldn't ever bow to anyone. "May I come in?" She asks.
Anjali steps to the side, allowing her passage. They go to the living room, a tight but cozy space. Beige carpet lined the floor, between two cushioned chairs a coffee table that faced a large boxy television. It hadn't changed a bit since Galatea had been there last but it'd been so long everything felt strange.
"Do you want tea?" Anjali says from the kitchen, reaching for her kettle anyway.
Galatea pulls out her wand to help. "I can-"
"Don't." The other woman order's in a harsh voice, so unexpected it makes Galatea flinch. "I can do it myself."
She lowers her wand into her lap, her stomach churning with unease as Anjali let her stew in silence. From the living room she can see Anjali's tall figure leaning over the stove, waiting for the water to boil and letting her dark hair shield her face from view.
After ten long silent minutes the kettle starts to screech, leaves are steeped and Anjali serves the steaming beverage in their respective mugs. Anjali's with the Fulham football team's logo emblazoned on the side. Galatea's, a faded constellation of Ursa Major.
"How's Julius?" Anjali takes mercy upon her sorry form.
Galatea sighs, thankful for the easy topic. "Good. He lost his first tooth three weeks ago. He fiddled with it too much and it came out too soon. Merlin, I thought he was dying, there was blood pouring from his mouth. You would've thought it hilarious."
Across from her Anjali's lips twitch upwards in amusement, not lingering for long.
Their silence is still awkward, still making Galatea shift in her seat. Keeping her on the edge of her seat enough to blurt, "I miss you."
There's no reaction to her words like the ones before. The two of them leave their tea untouched, Anjali staring carefully between them in this chess match of a conversation, picking her next words with deliberation.
"I…miss you too." The woman admits like her teeth are being pulled.
"But…" Galatea encourages knowing that the answer could only hurt. Sheneeds it to. Like how her actions had hurt Anjali during her brother's trial. Eye for an eye. Tooth for tooth.
"I'm still angry."
"Yes."
"I've tried to forgive and forget, because that's what we've always done. You go to your family, you be like them, you blend in and you come back." Anjali succinctly recalls. "Maybe it's always been like this, I just willingly chose not to look too closely because of my feelings. But seeing you up there. Watching you cry your heart out for him."
Anjali stops with a disbelieving shake of her head, looking away from Galatea with the same disgust from the trial. "It made me wonder if I knew you at all."
"Of course you know me." Galatea quickly presses. "You know me the best out of anyone alive."
"So then why did you do it? Why did you testify for him, Gala? I trusted you."
Galatea's hands squeezed around her mug, uncaring for the heat of it that burned her fingers. "Narcissa asked me to."
A scoff makes Anjali shake her head. "So just like that you throw us away?"
"No, I wasn't throwing away anything-"
"You got your brother declared innocent because your pureblooded sister-in-law asked you to."
"I-"
"Do you know how many people used that Imperious excuse to get off scot-free? Knott, Crabbe, Goyle, Yaxley. Death Eaters roaming free because Narcissa Black 'asked' you to."
Anjali leans back in her chair, hand gripping the end of the armrest as she tries to calm herself down.
"We lost a lot of good people, Gala. Friends that I cared about, because of them."
Galatea watches Anjali's jaw flex with the effort of trying not to let tears fall and wishes for nothing more than to stand and embrace her. But her heart's sunken into her stomach, keeping her stuck to her chair as she tries to find the words.
There were ones she had in mind, maybe even a justifiable excuse that would endear her, allow her forgiveness. Galatea reaches over to her right arm, rubbing at her wrist as it starts to itch.
"Tell me what I must do." She says instead. "Anything. I'll do it. Whatever it takes for you to know how truly sorry I am."
Anjali looks at her for a long while, from her face to her wrist and back again. Galatea closes her eyes regretfully because she already knows the words to fall from her lover's lips.
"Leave the Black family."
From wrist to ring finger Galatea's hand starts to twist the golden band she still wore on her right hand. For such a small piece of jewelry it weighed like a ton of bricks.
"I can't." She mutters.
Anjali clicks her tongue, gathering her tea cup and moving to stand. "Of course the title of 'Madame Black' too good to give-"
"Anjali!" Galatea emotions slip unbidden. "I can't." She tries to get the woman to understand, raising her arm, baring her wrist in hopes she could see the magical ties that kept her bound. Like fire on her skin she still felt the heat of her promise.
But her skin was just skin, her pale wrist innocuous to the naked eye.
Realizing the futility Galatea bows her head, blonde hair curtaining her face. "Please." She begs in a shaking voice, at her wits end and grasping for whatever she could. "Believe me when I say, Anjali Greele, I love you. More than magic, more than stars.
"I'm sorry your comrades died. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry that after everything I defended Lucius. I am weak and cowardly and so so tired."
She raises her head to look one last time upon Anjali's pensive face. "I will spend the rest of my life with regrets that I can never fix. I can only hope one day I'll be worthy of your forgiveness."
Galatea stands, her hand reflexively going to hold Anjali's but thinks better of it. It had been a mistake to come here, she knew that for fact now.
"That's all I wanted to say. My apologies for disturbing your evening, Miss Greele." She manages to say, nearly choking in her words.
She almost makes it to the door in her hurry to not cry in Anjali's home. She had promised herself to not use her tears to influence the woman she loved, like she did the Wizengamot. Anjali deserved more than that. Her hand turns the door knob, swinging the green door open and makes to run into the night before a hand closes around her wrist.
When she turns to look back, Anjali's lips press against her face, split between Galatea's lips and cheek, just on the corner. It's chaste and done quicker than Galatea had time to process what was happening. She still feels that jolt of electricity even now.
"I love you too." Anjali whispers just over the beating of Galatea's blood rushing in her ears. She desperately wants to lean forward, press a proper kiss goodbye to the other woman, but Anjali's hand is on her chest, pushing her the slightest bit away.
"Not now, but one day." Anjali promises. "One day I'll find it in me to forgive you, Gala."
She doesn't feel any full body relief, her body still aches, her eyes still sting, but she does feel lighter than she has since the trial.
Tentatively Galatea places her hand over Anjali's and squeezes a little harder than she intended, but the woman doesn't flinch.
"I'll wait till then."
Because nothing in his life is easy, when Julius enters the infirmary three faces each with their own degree of guilty shock turn to look at him.
"Julius?" Hermione Granger asks the air in disbelief. She stands in the middle of the room looking like she just got caught with her hands in a cookie jar.
"Granger?"
"Julius Black!" Ron Weasley squeaks from a cot, leg wrapped in a cast, and looking like he'd just been mauled by a wild animal.
"Weasley…"
"Black?" Harry Potter stands next to Granger, the two sharing a necklace between them. He looked worse for wear, wild hair a mess and clothes smeared with dirt stains.
"Potter." Julius' head starts to pound as a sense of dread falls upon his shoulders. He should turn back now. Maybe if he ran quick enough in the other direction he could avoid whatever the hell the three Gryffindors have gotten themselves into this time.
Their stand off is timed to the chime of the clock tower hitting midnight. Each ring of the bell resigns Julius to a long night. Granger opens her mouth, hand on the golden chain around her neck and lifts it, intending to invite him into their escapade.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Potter fails to whisper quietly.
"He has a right to know too." Hermione insists.
While they bicker back and forth Julius walks over to the chilled cabinet that held cold compresses for quidditch mishaps. He sighs in relief, drowning out the bickering kids with the angel choir that was ice on his forehead.
"He could help."
"I don't even know what he'd be helping with."
"Hush. Julius." Hermione ignores her friend in favor of throwing what's left of the chain over the older boy's bowed head.
"Do I have a choice in the matter?" He tiredly asks.
"Yes." Harry answers.
"No." Hermione confirms as she gives the necklace's hourglass pendant three spins.
When Julius raises his head, feeling Hermione swiftly take the necklace off of his neck, sun shines through the window of the infirmary and Julius thinks maybe he didn't have a concussion.
Maybe this was his fever dream as his head bled out on the moving staircase.
When Galatea reads about the fate of Sirius Black, she'll admit that maybe she wasn't making 'great' decisions.
Her first mistake was leaving Julius with his grandmother. Fortunately for her the woman loved her grandson. Spoiled him to bits when she wasn't filling his head with horror stories about muggles and how they were coming for his tiny fingers.
Galatea's second mistake is asking Anjali to let her visit Azkaban.
"Are you insane?" Anjali asks her point blank as soon as she does.
"I only need a moment. Anjali." She pleads. "If this man is to completely tarnish my name, I at least deserve to speak to him face to face."
"Sister to almost Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy visiting Order of the Phoenix traitor Sirius Black, who just so happens to be her brother-in-law, in Azkaban. And you think he's tarnishing your name?"
Galatea pretends she's not put out by the sound argument. She reminds herself with a sigh that she was practicing being less deceitful, hiding her true intentions behind pretty words to those she cared about.
"I've known him since he was seven, Anjali. He was the last person to ever do something in the name of a Dark Lord."
Galatea looks up to honey brown eyes, trying to express just how important this was to her.
"Something about this doesn't sit right with me. I need to make sure for myself."
Anjali's gaze is stern, unwavering as she lets Galatea's words hang in the air. After a beat or three the dark haired woman sighs, fingers rubbing the corner of her eyes before giving in.
"Fine." She concedes, but is quick to recover with a held up pointer finger. "You follow everything I say. To The Letter. When I say we leave, we leave."
Galatea nods, pretending not to like the authority in her lover's voice.
Azkaban is as rotten and terrible as the rumors said and more. Stepping onto what barely constituted for an island, already feeling any warmth her floor length cloak offered stripped away by the wind, it was easy to see why many a witch and wizard went mad during their time incarcerated.
Overhead the billowing cloaked figures of dementors circled the dark tower, each window echoing the scream of a tortured tenant. Galatea feels herself being pushed forward by Anjali's protective arm.
"C'mon Gala, the sooner we're in the sooner we're out." Her voice is a comfort in Galatea's ear.
They climb crumbling step after crumbling step the infrastructure less than sound. Every so often they have to stop at a hallway, Galatea huddled behind Anjali who held her wand tightly in her grip as dementors passed them on their patrol.
Sirius' cell is as terrible as the rest of the prison. A tight three stone walled cell that had a slanted view of the stormy grey sea. There's a threadbare cot in one corner and chains that kept him shackled next to it. Galatea would've passed it by, not knowing that a person could inhabit such a place, had it not been for Anjali nodding her head towards the cell.
"Five minutes." She reminds Galatea, squeezing both hands tight before letting go and stepping back five paces, allowing them what privacy she could.
Galatea nods, taking a deep breath before looking into the dark cell. Her curiosity is rewarded with a gut churning emotion when she sees the man inside.
A thin and ashen skinned figure sits listlessly with his back to the wall, ankles and wrists chained together to restrict attempts of escape. Long black waves are matted together touching bony shoulders that could barely hold up his striped prisoner's uniform.
Galatea hadn't laid eyes on her ex-fiancé since he was sixteen, on the cusp of becoming a young adult. From her memory he should've been tall, proud, and lithe. Tanned from days in the sun and the foundation of smile lines on his cheeks. Whoever is in front of her is not that at all, a pale imitation of the boy she once knew. But the imitation still had his eyes, blue grey and slightly down turned. His nose that crooked just to the left from a bludger injury when he was foutteen. The way his eyebrows rested when he pretended to be disinterested.
Sirius Black had been tried and sentenced nearly six months ago. Was that time all it took to reduce the man to this husk?
"Sirius." Her breath catches with disbelief. "What happened to you?"
He doesn't so much as turn to her, resolutely staring ahead at the opposite wall. She would've thought him dead if not for the way his fingernail tapped at the stone floor, his grown out facial hair moving with his lips as he counted out the seconds.
"Why did you do it? Was Peter not one of your closest friends? Tell me so that I can understand."
Sirius shifts in his cell and for a moment she thinks she'll receive an answer til he turns his back to her, drawing his knees in close and curling into the wall. The chains clink as he moves, one last tug of his arm slides metal against stone, out of sight the tapping begins again.
Galatea's lips purse, hurt forming in her chest at the rejection. She should've expected nothing less. There's been more than enough time for him to have forgotten her, for resentment to fill every interaction they'd had over the years. Even more so after having fought a war against people she willingly chose to hide behind.
She had been foolish to think she could've pulled a different reaction from Sirius Black.
Galatea stands straight looking down at the boy she once cared for, a small part of her heart mourning the loss. She opens her mouth, maybe to say something akin to a eulogy, something scathing, something kind.
The tapping pauses just as Anjali returns to her side, hand gentle on her shoulder as she whispers in her ear. "Time's up."
Galatea nods before looking back to the cell, closing her mouth and deciding to say nothing. She squashes the guilt in her chest as she walks away with Anjali, hearing the choked gasping of a dementor warden completing its round.
The afternoon sun was doing nothing for the headache behind Julius' eyes, Actively making it worse was the thirteen year old holding his wrist and making him run down the hallways towards Hagrid's.
"Hermione what- is- going on?" Harry pants when they make it to where the castle ends, a grassy hill between them and the groundskeeper's hut.
"I would- also- like- an explanation." Julius isn't much better than him. Quidditch player's rode brooms for a reason. They had nothing on a girl who has apparently been running to classes all year when she wasn't traveling through time.
There was dedicated to your studies and then there was Hermione Granger.
The three of them peer around the wall, just in time to see the past version of the girl hit the familiar head of platinum blond hair of Draco.
"Nice hit." Harry compliments.
"Thanks." Hermione quietly accepts with pride.
"Hey." Julius defends his cousin even as they have to make a break for the window and hide behind the corridor wall to hide from him and his friends.
"He deserved it." Potter insists, his friend nodding along. "He was there to watch Buckbeak get executed."
"The creature that clawed his arm open?"
"Malfoy insulted him."
"So he deserved to get his arm clawed open?"
"...Hagrid warned us what would happen if we weren't careful."
Julius gingerly rubs a his temple, holding the cold compress in his other hand. "Listen, I know you two are close to him, but maybe he's capable of making a mistake that ended with my cousin having to go to the hospital."
"Well, does Malfoy's injury mean it's okay to sentence Buckbeak to death?" Harry shoots back defensively. Him standing at full height still only allowed him to reach Julius' nose, making the older boy realize he was fighting a losing battle with a stubborn newteen.
"First of all, learn what muggles do to dogs when they bite people. Not saying that it's right, but this isn't exactly a rare unprecedented decision. Second, that wasn't Draco's fault. My uncle is the one that escalated this whole thing to executing Buckbeak. Not the most pacifistic guy if you've ever met him."
Harry scowls, turning his head away as they start their descent down the hill to follow the Gryffindor trio's past selves.
"I have and he's not."
It's a tumultuous journey to Hagrid's hut, Potter focused on the destination rather than being made to interact with Julius at all.
"Regretting bringing me along yet?" He asks a nervous looking Hermione that still deemed him worthy of walking with.
Her frizzy head of hair bounces as she shakes her head. "No. It's important you're here. You wouldn't believe us otherwise."
Julius had a sinking feeling about what it could possibly be, but he asks anyway. "Believe you guys about what?"
Dark brown eyes take a moment before meeting his gaze, earnest and pleading, nothing but true belief behind them. "Sirius Black is innocent."
Author's Note
Woof guys, here we goooooooooooooo!
Also as of posting this chapter some edits have been made to make the story make a little more sense/meld with canon
Everybody say thank u to Brillodorado ;3c