Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership aside from a bunch of OCs.
Edited by: Himura; Bub3loka, Void Uzumaki
Also, if you feel generous, want to support me, or read ahead, you know where to find me.
30th of November, Sunday
"Most impressive, Amy," Alfred huffed, though his voice had a tinge of concern. "Three days of sleep." Her brother showed up in her humble house soon after she awoke.
"Could use one more," Amelia admitted as she sipped from her steaming-hot mug of coffee.
"I thought… you'd be more upset." They were not sitting in the kitchen, sharing a spread of breakfast prepared by the old Mimsy.
"Oh, believe me, I'm plenty upset. But it's just that the sleep was so good, and there's this feeling of… peace." She didn't have to wake up an hour before the crack of dawn every day anymore, and there were no urgent meetings, investigations, or organisations that could pop out at any moment requiring her attention.
Yet, there was also this niggling feeling of emptiness. It felt so odd… not to do anything or be pressed for time.
Why did rest and sleep feel so weird?
"I'm glad." Her brother smiled with amusement before returning his attention to the bacon and eggs. "I can't recall seeing you so tranquil ever before. What now, though?"
Amelia stared at her coffee and sighed. "I don't know." She had tried her hardest not to think of what came after. Pride, rage, fury, and exhaustion had tangled into a searing knot that day, yet now, she had to deal with the aftermath. Worse, she had no idea what to do.
"I suppose you aren't particularly interested in another ministry job? Or perhaps the ICW?"
"I'd rather curse those gormless arse-lickers than work there ever again," she snorted, making her brother almost choke on his bacon. "Besides, ICW is even worse than our ministry. The last time they got something done was against Grindelwald, and even that was poorly wrapped up."
"That is true. Perhaps you can retire-you already have a share of the family business, and I don't think you've ever spent your salary on anything other than buying gifts."
"Perhaps." Her brother was right, of course. Admitting her social life had died in the Auror academy would bode poorly. Instead, Amelia took another sip of coffee.
Amelia could spend the rest of her life indulging in luxury and extravagance; her sizeable savings and her parents' inheritance ensured that. Joining the DMLE had been her dream, as justice was an important ideal to strive towards.
Alas, the reality was disappointing, and she had little to show after three decades. Most of the so-called dark wizards were the same respectable members of society or their proxies, and bringing them to justice was an uphill battle. Worse, favours or intervention from people like the minister or Dumbledore could void all your effort, as the Snape fiasco had proven.
Now? Now Amelia knew better. Justice was just a lie - it was all about influence and power. It rankled her to admit it, but one look at the muggle world told a similar story. The rich and influential could easily pay the hefty fines for a felony and hire the best lawyers to keep them out of jail. Or so it seemed when she had last taken a look at things.
At least the pay raked up, especially since she started getting promoted. Almost all of it was just being added to her vaults. Now, Amelia had the gold and the time to spend it.
Yet she never felt more lost.
"Why not travel some then?" Her brother's voice broke her musings. "A sabbatical around the world would do you some good, methinks."
Amelia opened her mouth to shoot the idea down by habit, but no words came out. Sabbatical… didn't sound so bad. Africa, Asia, and the Americas had plenty of interesting magics and places to offer, and she did need a break from Wizarding Britain.
"You know what? I think I might just go."
To her amusement, Alfred was completely stunned by her easy acceptance, a piece of bacon hanging from his gaping mouth.
16th December, Monday
Harry was getting swifter and his aim even more precise. While at the start, two or three of every ten spells would miss her without having to dodge, now it was scarcely one, and not always. It forced Juno to be quick on her feet.
By now, Harry had managed to master almost all of his current repertoire silently, which meant that his only bottleneck to speed was his wandwork; for every spell Juno cast, Harry did two. Her incantations and wand movements grew swifter but not good enough to catch up to the Boy Who Lived.
It was a painful demonstration of why chantless casting was something any self-respecting witch had to learn. Still, the difference in capability did not deter her but only made Juno try harder. It was good dodging practice, too.
She jerked out of the way of a red spell suspiciously looking like the disarming charm and flung a dancing feet jinx at Harry. He sidestepped it with ease and retaliated with another spell.
The back and forth was like a dance but far more dangerous and exciting.
It was hard to avoid the whole barrage erupting from Harry's wand, but Juno did not need to. She decided to dodge all but the stinging hexes and threw a Glacius under his feet mid-combination, and before he could dispel it, she managed to fling a Tarantallegra.
The combination had Harry slip on the icy floor, and Juno followed up with an Expelliarmus. But just before he got hit, a pale jet of light shot out of his wand, and she was too slow to dodge.
Half a heartbeat later, Juno felt her limbs stiffen and snap together, and she almost saw stars after slamming face-first on the floor. Thankfully, the whole room was enchanted with the softening charm, making the fall only uncomfortable, as if she had collapsed on a soft bed.
The bell rang next, signifying the end of the lesson.
"There will be no homework for the winter holidays," Quirrell announced, eliciting a deafening cheer from the students. "But don't forget the mid-year exams."
The excitement was replaced with 'aahs' and 'oohs'.
Suddenly, Juno could move her limbs again and turned around, only to face Harry above her, reaching out with a hand.
"You almost got me," Harry admitted, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. With some effort, Juno managed to tune out the clutter surrounding her, clear her mind from the disappointment, and focus on his veiled feelings—it was an odd mixture of surprise, determination… and awe, for some reason.
A moment later, the veritable sea of surrounding emotions slammed into her senses, and Juno quickly jammed her mind shut lest she get overwhelmed.
"Almost doesn't count. Thanks," Juno muttered, grudgingly accepting the offered hand. The boy pulled her up effortlessly with an almost surprising strength for his short stature. Even his palm was rather calloused for some reason. Harry nodded absentmindedly, but she didn't let up her grip on his hand and leaned in. "Wait for me after class."
That earned her a confused nod.
"An interesting tactic, Miss Lestrange," Quirrell's voice came from behind. "A smart use of taking a calculated risk to secure an advantage, have ten points for Ravenclaw. Although Mr Potter technically won, as you saw."
Indeed, while Harry had been disarmed, she could do nothing in a full-body bind. Instead, her friend managed to get up from the iced floor and pick up his wand again.
With a nod, the DADA Professor wished them all happy holidays and disappeared again into the door behind the teacher's podium as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws streamed out of the room. It was the last lesson of the day, and there were nearly three hours free before dinner. To Juno's greatest amusement, Longbottom hurried out of the room without looking at her, probably in a rush for his detention.
She almost felt pity for the boy. Almost.
Only Juno couldn't help but wonder if there was a point about Quirrell's obvious favouritism. She had checked that he wasn't in any way related to House Black, be it in connections, obligations, or blood. One had to be blind not to notice the amount of points he handed her for the smallest of things. That accounted for almost a quarter of the total Ravenclaw points, and the DADA professor was completely nonchalant about it as if it was the most natural thing ever.
It made her wary, especially with the competence, power, and control Quirrell displayed. Lord Black had taught her that such favours never came for free; there was always a repayment later. Still, school points were useless by themselves, so it didn't matter.
"God," Diana came over with a groan. "Lavender talked my ear off half the lesson, speculating if Quirrell will break up with Trelawny before the end of the school year."
"Impressive," Padma deadpanned beside her, but her face quickly twisted into a pained grimace. "I had the pleasure of fighting against Granger, who seemed dead set on winning no matter what. I think I might go to the hospital wing. Her stinging hex has gotten nasty, and she struck me dozens of times."
Morag shook her head. "She's trying too hard. Weasley and Longbottom are better than her with a wand from Gryffindor, and their duels are far more interesting."
"That is true," the short muggle-born girl agreed. "Whenever I go to the library, I find Granger there, reading or studying. If it weren't for Madam Pince, I'd say Granger even sleeps there."
"She should study less and practice more," Juno scoffed. "Memorising textbooks and a few compendiums can only get you so far."
Truth be told, she disliked the Gryffindor muggle-born girl. Granger's face was mostly impassive, but her feelings were like an open book. Juno could sense the heavy dislike and the glares sent her way while she wasn't looking. As far as she could tell, it wasn't personal, which only made the matter worse.
Granger had a problem of some sort, but at least she wasn't challenging her to duels like Longbottom. Not that such a trick would work again; Juno's stamina had drastically improved in the two months since she started jogging, and even her focus and control had been refined, if slightly. The only one their year who could fight her was Harry.
"Anyway, do you guys want to hang out?" Padma asked, breaking the silence. "I heard Diggory and Slynt are organising a friendly Quidditch match for anyone who wants to join this afternoon."
Diana and Macdougal were quick to agree.
"We'll join you in a bit," Juno said, taking her bag from the desk. She threw a meaningful glance at Harry, who subtly nodded, brows furrowed.
"Alright then." Diana did not look very convinced, but she dragged Padma and Morag out of the classroom after a suspicious glance at the two of them.
"So, you wanted to speak with me?" Harry shuffled uneasily. His right hand twitched, and she noticed he was ready to draw his wand in a heartbeat.
"Yes." She walked over as the boy tensed, watching her warily. With a snort, she poked his left shoulder, eliciting a pained yelp as Harry jumped.
This was the same shoulder Juno had struck twice with a stinging hex, and he had fallen on in the end.
"What was that for?"
Juno gritted her teeth. "Because you're holding back." Rolling up her sleeve, she revealed her porcelain skin. A few small reddening spots were marring it where his jinx had landed. "It's insulting."
"I don't like hurting my friends." Harry scowled at her, rubbing his bruised shoulder. "And I'm trying to control my magic better."
Taking a deep breath, Juno tried to calm herself. He was painfully honest as usual, and even his mental shields had gone down, the air practically overflowing with his confusion, embarrassment, stubbornness and a tinge of… guilt. Was he still feeling guilty over that fight with Longbottom, or was it something else?
"You're doing yourself and me a great disservice with it," she muttered. "Enemies won't hold back on me, and a full-powered stinging hex could interrupt a spell chant when you strike. Yet when you hold back, I can just ignore them in favour of retaliating. Do you think I no longer deserve your full effort in duelling?"
"What? Fighting with you is great!" Harry took a few steps back, raising his hands defensively.
"Well then, don't hold back. Not with me," Juno hissed. "I'm not some weakling to be pampered, and the harder you fight, the faster I can improve."
A sigh rolled off the Boy Who Lived, and he skittishly ran a hand through his messy raven hair. A moment later, his jaw hardened, and his mind turned into a still pool of water.
"Fine."
"Episkey!" Juno softly tapped his left shoulder. Healing spells were not her forte, but this one would at least lessen the bruising and pain. Thankfully, Harry recognised the peace offering for what it was and nodded gratefully. "Now, let's go find the others."
25th of December, Wednesday
Harry awoke to a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. Hagrid had once again given him a roughly cut wooden whistle wrapped in brown paper and an album with photos from his parents. The usual Weasley jumpers and magical sweets from Hermione were missing, but in their place was a large box of premium Swiss chocolate packed in a colourful muggle wrap from Diana and a large roll bundled all in silk.
He cautiously removed the binding, only to be faced with a large tapestry of the Potter family tree.
It had to be unfurled to show everything, and it easily took half the wall of his room; the borders were lined with intricate twirls of gold, which looked quite good on the black background.
It started with Linfred of Stinchombe, who died in 1189, and it listed all the Potters and their spouses, including a myriad of names, all written in a beautiful silvery script. Peverell, Sayre, Malfoy, Black, Carrows, Abbott, Longbottomn, Slate, and many more. Some names even looked foreign. It was no wonder Sirius had said wizards were all cousins who had intermarried at some point.
He ran his hand through the fabric; it was soft, smooth and pleasant.
It is charmed indestructible and will self-update once you press your magic into the tapestry. You can add pictures and portraits of your ancestors if you have any.
Happy Yule, Juno
Harry felt somewhat numb. The tall girl had supplied him with more knowledge of his family and its history in scarcely two moons than anyone else in his previous life. The gift looked expensive and well-thought-out. In comparison, he felt the leather-bound notebook with the stylish fountain pen he had sent was lacking.
Even the Black Family Tree in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place could scarcely compare to this.
Harry's gaze focused on the two remaining packages. One, elongated in a familiar way, could only be a broom, and unwrapping it revealed a sleek Nimbus 2001 from Sirius and a promise to meet soon. He had no idea when that 'soon' would be, as he was still stuck in Saint Mungos. But it was clear that his godfather had changed little, and Harry appreciated the gesture - the broom was not yet publicly available for buying, yet Sirius had managed to find him one somehow.
On one side of the polished mahogany handle, in golden script, was written Nimbus 2001, and on the other, Harry J. Potter.
Yet the time when Quidditch made his blood run hot had passed, and the broom was carefully placed on the wall as Harry turned to his last gift. The other package was tiny and unassuming. The silky, silvery fabric of the invisibility cloak spilt from the wrap like a waterfall, bringing a smile to his face.
With the Cloak and the Marauder's Map in hand, Hogwarts was his oyster, and he could easily move around where he wished with none the wiser.
Carefully folding the cloak and putting it in an inner pocket of his robes along with the map, Harry pulled on thick clothes for the snowy weather and made his way to the common room.
The fireplace roared with a ruddy fire, banishing the cold, but the enormous circular room was far emptier than usual. Less than a dozen students from each house remained for Christmas, Ravenclaw having the fewest. Even nearly half of the teachers had gone home for the holidays, leaving the staff table feeling empty.
Juno was predictably waiting for him, sitting by the hearth, garbed in her running quidditch robes with stylish dragonhide boots to ward off the cold and wetness from the snow. None had said anything about stopping their runs, even after snow had fallen last week. It only made things more challenging and more fun. While Diana was gone back home for the holidays, Juno, Flora, and Hestia had remained, neither seeming particularly eager to return to their guardians.
"Happy Yuletide." She looked at him calmly, with eyes that looked like two sapphires. Mrs Norris, looking better than usual, lazily sat in her lap.
Right… she didn't celebrate the muggle Christmas. Yuletide was similar enough, only older and had a slightly different tradition. To him, it seemed like the same thing, only renamed.
"Happy Yule. And thanks for the gift. I love it," Harry admitted, his words sounding too weak to describe his gratitude.
"It's a celebration of kinship and family," Juno simply said, a slight twitch in her lips. It did not escape Harry's attention that she preferred to be here rather than go home to her family. "Let's go. Flora and Hestia are probably waiting for us."
Half a dozen of them had all gathered outside in the snow-covered Quidditch pitch. A few older students were gliding across the frozen surface of the Black Lake with some muggle contraptions on their feet. It was an odd version of boots with sleek, slightly curved blades of steel attached to the bottom, allowing them to move with surprising grace and swiftness over the ice.
Ice skating, someone had called it, and Juno was tempted to try it out later. With a shake of her head, she returned her attention to her friend soaring through the skies.
"He's a madman," Hestia Carrow said, voice heavy with awe. The Slytherin twins were all wrapped in thick, fur-lined dark robes, and most of their faces were hidden behind two thick cashmere shawls of green and silver.
Juno could only agree as she watched with trepidation as Harry dove straight into the ground at breakneck speed, only to pull up just before crashing. The stunt sent a heavy gust of snow at the spectators, but Flitwick deflected it with a flick of his wand.
He did two more spins around the stadium, weaving around the goalposts effortlessly, and Juno had to admit Harry could fly. She had been to a few official Quidditch games, and while the sport did not interest her, her new friend flew no worse than many of the players she had seen.
Finally, Harry landed softly just before Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch.
"I see no problem. The boy aced his flying lessons with ease months ago," the hawk-like referee said gruffly. "Although he's almost as reckless as his father atop the broom."
"Well then, Mr Potter, you have my permission to keep your broom, now that we know you won't break your neck," the Charms Master clapped cheerfully before shaking his head. "It seems that your Godfather's penchant for mayhem has not dampened with time. Only Sirius probably meant for you to hide the broom from the staff, not ask permission."
Harry bashfully rubbed the back of his head while the teachers made their way back to the castle, chatting animatedly.
Charles Slynt, the sixth-year Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and Keeper, walked over, looking at Harry as if he were made of gold.
"I still can't believe Black managed to get you an unreleased broom model. Merlin, you should have applied at the tryouts, Potter. With you being a seeker instead of Chang, the cup would be ours. A natural if I have ever seen one!"
"Eh," Harry scratched his head while a flush crept up his neck. "Flying is nice, but er… I don't have time time for Quidditch." The words earned him a relieved sigh from Flora and Hestia. Those two were far too interested in that silly sport.
"You can have plenty of time-"
"Wait up, Slynt," the Weasley twins, watching from the side with their two brothers, approached with faces filled with mock outrage. "You can't just coerce the poor firstie into slaving for you!"
"Terrible man, exploiting his juniors," the other twin nodded, face deadly serious.
"You're the ones to speak with Wood-"
Juno tuned out as the Quidditch nuts started bickering with each other, but thankfully with Percy Weasley's stern presence, the two buffoons didn't try anything but jest and provoke. Their emotions said a similar story; mischief and amusement were mixed with a healthy dose of caution, though she noticed the youngest Weasley staying some distance from his brothers.
Meanwhile, Harry coughed and subtly made his way to the three of them.
"Any of you want to try it out?"
Hestia and Flora's mismatched eyes lit up like lanterns, but Juno quickly shook her head and stepped back.
To everyone's surprise, Harry generously let everyone here take a spin with the broom, even the Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff boy from the fourth year. However, everything devolved into a snowball fight when the Weasley twins started pelting everyone, their brothers included.
Duelling with Harry and running out in the snow in the morning had proven quite effective in dodging, and by the end, Juno had far less snow in her robes and hair than most of the others. It was such a carefree endeavour, and she outright burst out in laughter when Percy Weasley's vain attempts to halt the fight only made everyone start aiming at him.
Juno couldn't remember the last time she had such fun when all the worries disappeared. Alas, like all good things, this also ended as the sun hid behind the horizon, and the air quickly turned painfully chilly.
The Yule dinner was no less merry, although half of the professors were with flushed faces, sipping on wine and other spirits.
Dumbledore was chatting animatedly with Flitwick; Hagrid and Petrov were competing to see who could drink more. Trelawney looked quite sad, possibly because Quirrell was not here; the rumour was he was visiting his grandmother. All the students and staff were sitting at the same table, and Juno was seated next to Harry, facing Hestia and Flora, who chatted enthusiastically about Quidditch. Even eating her turkey in silence felt more pleasant than usual.
When the feast ended, Juno felt empty. It wasn't anger, fury, hatred, or fear, but just emptiness, as if all the feelings had drained from her once her friends had gone to sleep. Her mood turned sour, and instead of sleeping, she aimlessly wandered around the hallways and empty, unused classrooms as her mind drifted.
This had been the best Yule that Juno had.
So why? Why did she feel so empty afterwards?
The feast wasn't anything special but it left Juno longing for more. Why?
Juno had eaten better meals in far more polite company and grander settings.
Juno had been to far more reputable events of far more importance.
Juno had received better gifts than Harry's notebook and fountain pen. Even Diana's cat toy and handcrafted muggle flute were not particularly special.
But they made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was similar to the high of success, but not quite.
It took her quite a while, but the realisation sank in. It was that feeling of warm cosiness, of easy laughter. There were no lessons, no favours, no scheming, no secret goals to be fulfilled, just a group of boys and girls having fun. It was the feeling of genuine honesty, of friendship.
For some reason, it only made Juno angrier. Too angry to go and sleep. She knew how to deal with such feelings. Yet she did not want to. She did not want to turn to Occlumency and let go of the anger.
It would mean the day was over, and her newfound happiness was gone.
Yet it was dark outside, and Juno stubbornly refused to turn to the Ravenclaw tower and go to sleep. So, she aimlessly kept wandering through the classrooms, looking for something.
Most were dusty and messy, with the desks and chairs strewn around the rooms randomly.
Juno lost track of time as her mind grew pleasantly numb until something finally caught her attention on the second floor. The room she had just entered was swept clean; all the furniture piled up haphazardly near the walls to make space for a magnificent mirror as tall as the ceiling.
Bound by an ornate golden frame and standing on two clawed feet, it seemed like something her grandfather would buy, along with the weird inscription carved at the top.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Unable to suppress her curiosity, Juno slowly approached the mirror before stopping right before it.
The crowd of people behind her made Juno spin. Her wand was drawn and ready to fling spells behind her, but the classroom was empty.
There was nobody behind her.
Juno slowly turned around to inspect the reflection as her trepidation rose. A dozen figures were behind her and smiling, but a second glance over Juno's shoulder confirmed they did not exist.
She was older and more beautiful, garbed in ornate robes, her eyes glowing with power. A shadowy figure of a young man was by her side, smiling.
Behind her stood her parents, pride blooming on their smiling faces. Lord Black and grandaunt Cassiopeia were also there, and her grandmother Druella, who, instead of having dull, drunken eyes, looked full of energy, happy, and smiling, along with the rest of the family.
They all looked joyful. Under Juno's dragonhide boots, a dark shade with glowy red eyes lay dead.
Everything was perfect. Too perfect.
Juno Bellatrix Lestrange took a step back, scowling fiercely. This genuine, heartfelt happiness was impossible. She had gotten a taste of it tonight, and this felt even more hollow.
The mirror had to be cursed, for her parents had chosen their devotion to a dead man and a foolish cause over their daughter and were rotting in Azkaban.
The Blacks were incapable of smiling with such unbridled, pure joy, let alone gathering in such numbers without quarrelling. Juno had never seen Arcturus Black smile even once. Her grandfather, Cygnus Black, and the rest of the Lestranges had been long dead.
After taking a deep, shuddering breath to control herself, Juno's eyes settled on the inscription above again, not daring to look at the crystal surface again. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
She stared at it pettily for what felt like forever, trying to decipher the writing. A scoff rolled from her throat when she finally read it backwards.
I show not your face but your heart's desire.
"What a load of bollocks," Juno cursed. Killing Voldemort had been a childish dream of hers. But a dead man could not die twice, and she did not even want to see her parents ever again.
They deserved to rot in Azkaban for abandoning their daughter. And for what? For some stupid lunacy.
What good was blood purity when you killed so many purebloods? Her grandfather had shown her the numbers after the war - by the end, over seven times more purebloods had died than muggle-born.
Swallowing her fury, Juno stormed out of the room and returned to the Ravenclaw Tower.
26th of December, Thursday
When she awoke, Juno's feet led her before the mirror again.
She hated her parents, but there was something almost soothing in seeing them healthy, proud, and happy together with her. Her family was here; they were nice, happy and friendly like never before. An impossible dream come true. Juno couldn't help but look at it more and more, no matter how hollow it felt.
"Here you are," a voice turned her insides to ice. She spun around, only to face Harry beside her, green eyes filled with concern. "I got worried after you didn't show up for the morning run."
"I…" Her throat was dry, and for the first time, no words left her mouth. Juno had nothing to say for herself; she had never missed the morning runs before, no matter how tired. Yet now, it had been just pushed to the wayside of her mind.
"A cursed mirror," Harry said understandingly, frowning fiercely at the ornate golden frame. "They can enchant even the wisest of wizards and witches."
Juno shook herself, trying to clear her mind. It took even more effort than usual as if her thoughts had all turned into a sludge, something sinister seeping into her mind without her notice. It felt like forever, but she finally gathered herself while Harry waited patiently.
"What do you see?" She challenged, not daring to look at the reflection anymore.
Slowly, he stepped right before the cursed mirror with a hint of reluctance and sighed.
"My parents are alive." His voice was hoarse and sorrowful. "My grandparents, too, and we're all standing with me and my godfather. I am older, with a family of my own."
"A wife?" Juno asked, perking up. "Who's she?"
"Dunno, it's just a vague womanly shape beside me, holding a baby," his voice turned ponderous. "There's also Voldemort dead at my feet."
"The Dark Lord is vanquished," she noted. "So that part is true."
"Vanquished does not mean dead," Harry said ominously, sending chills down her spine before coughing. "Forget it. What do you see?"
A pair of two soft emeralds gazed earnestly at her. Juno could just remain silent, but she had already asked and received an honest response.
"I am jealous," she confessed sadly, not bothering to control her emotions anymore. "Your parents are great. To the death, they fought for you. Mine? Mine chose to devote themselves to a dead fool than take care of their daughter."
"What… do you mean?"
"Bellatrix and Rudolphos Lestrange could have avoided Azkaban, you know? They could have raised me, but no! Even cruel beasts take care of their young. Yet, mine didn't even hesitate-" A flood of long-suppressed grievances erupted from her tongue as Juno cursed her family, her parents, the Dark Lord, and everyone and everything that had wronged her, and all the ways the reflection had infuriated her.
Harry listened with rapt attention, and before Juno knew it, she was sitting on one of the desks. Her friend was consolingly patting her on the shoulder and nodding in all the right places, the cursed mirror forgotten.
By the time she finished, Juno had to wipe the angry tears from her eyes more than once.
She felt light, so incredibly lighter than before, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulder. Then, the mortification set in, and her whole face flushed, probably making her look like a tomato. Juno had laid herself bare in a way she never did before, making her feel vulnerable.
Yet Harry was nothing but understanding in all the right ways, not a single shred of judgement in his emerald eyes. His feelings told the same story as always, if a bit muted.
"Let's take a walk and at least find Flora and Hestia," he proposed kindly. "They are probably wondering why we bailed on them. There's breakfast in half an hour, too."
A tinge of guilt made her insides twitch, but her friend was right as usual. With some struggle, Juno cleared her mind again; it would not do for anyone else to see her like a sobbing wreck.
"Sure, let's go. Hey…" Juno paused as they entered the hallway. "How did you find me so quickly?"
He shrugged, but an amused smile found its way to his face. "I have my ways."
Juno huffed but let the unsaid challenge go; it didn't matter in the end; she would find out sooner or later, or Harry would simply tell her. So this was what having real friends felt like?
Aunt Cass had described it before, having bonds that could grow stronger than steel without any favours or blood involved, but Juno couldn't understand it before.
Now, though, the Black heiress could finally understand it, and Juno couldn't help but feel glad for approaching Harry that fateful morning after leaving the hospital wing.
24th of December, Tuesday
The ministry had grown sloppy.
Midnight was approaching. There had been no defence but a middling locking charm, a small alarm, and a muggle-repelling charm in the muggle entrance, both easily bypassed. Sure, the building had been completely closed off for the holidays with the portkeys, apparition, and floo-travel disabled, but this was far easier than he expected. The atrium was empty, and he glided unimpeded through the polished, dark wooden floor.
The security desk at the bottom was also empty, and nobody impeded his entrance through the golden gates leading to the lift.
"Level Nine - Department of Mysteries," the cold feminine voice echoed as soon as the lift halted and its doors slid open.
The hallway before him was completely bare and unassuming, lacking windows and only illuminated by enchanted torches. Ignoring the powerful urge to turn around and go somewhere else took some effort.
"What a strong repelling charm," he muttered.
He disregarded the staircase to the left leading to the courtrooms on level ten, gazed at the plain black door before him, and spread his senses to the absolute limit.
With a twirl of his wand, he poked at the intricate alarm and locking enchantments woven into the door, creating a small gap that would right itself within an hour. With an amused smile, he walked forward, the door swinging open as he approached.
A dark circular room followed, walls littered with identical handle-less doors at equal intervals, with ominous dead man candles flickering in between. The blue flames let off an almost invisible smoke, rendering one's mind more pliable.
A slew of dark whispers appeared at the edge of his consciousness, making him freeze. It was so subtle yet insidious, but something started nibbling persistently at the edge of his mind. With a sharp breath, he walled the outer edges into a solid, silvery mirror, letting the malignant touch slide off like water over stone.
The whole chamber was inert, and even his magic felt sluggish here. If nothing else, it showed the Unspeakables were capable of interesting enchantments if only they did not pour their efforts into useless mystique.
With a scoff, he headed for one of the doors before the entrance could close, and the circular room started spinning.
A push and he stepped into complete darkness. His feet instantly separated from the floor as his body floated up, and the door behind him slammed closed.
With a flick of his wand, a ghostly lantern appeared above him, banishing the surrounding darkness with an eerie red glow. Everything was misty here, and man-sized dark planets drifted ominously into space, drinking in every scrap of light.
Once again, he had to suppress his interest and sailed through the air, looking for an opening in the polished walls. It must have been a couple hundred yards when he finally chanced on a small arch at the side.
It swung open, and Quirrell found himself in a dimly lit large rectangular chamber reminiscent of a Roman theatre. The soft nibbling at his mind grew far more vicious and persisting, and he could hear the voices that were not there. Even his senses were completely muddled here, and there was a sense of unease.
His gaze shot down, seeing the ominous crumbling arch on the stage, and the whispers grew rabid, even when he completely emptied his mind.
The Veil of Death.
Of course. With a decisive spin, he turned around and reached the door amidst the climbing stone benches. He found himself in the circular room, which spun as soon as his door closed behind him.
It took him another half an hour of wandering through the accursed place before he finally found himself in the Hall of Prophecies.
An enormous, cold chamber filled with towering rafters and dusty shelves heavy with prophecy orbs was again only illuminated by the tricky blue-flame candles from before. Most held a bright, misty flicker that swirled within, but some were dull and lifeless.
Quirrell approached carefully, inspecting the nearest glass orb, trying to force his mind and senses to focus through the quagmire produced by the candle smoke. The wand in his hand helped, if slightly. Ah, if only subterfuge was not required. Alas, he had to leave no imprint of his presence here.
The orb itself was cursed, so very cursed, and it took him some time to ascertain how—only those mentioned in the prophecy could pick it up without having their minds shattered.
Vicious and Clever.
After another hour of wandering, Quirrell finally found what he was looking for on row ninety-seven.
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D.
Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter
To his greatest surprise, the crystal sphere above the label was dull and turbid, just like the handful of fulfilled prophecies.
A hint of red crept into his eyes as Quirrell reached out to touch the orb with his hand, uncaring about the lingering curse.
He grew still for a long minute as the familiar words popped into his mind before nodding to himself; the contents had told him nothing new. But the confirmation was indispensable. It would have been a waste to shift his efforts towards Harry Potter when he had more significant and urgent matters.
The boy was surprisingly skilled.
But so what? Being a good eleven-year-old meant nothing.
Half an hour later, Quirinus Quirrell left the Ministry Building, leaving no trace of his presence behind.
Author's Endnote: Quirrell's POV reads far better at the end, so I had to break the chronological order to improve the flow. Let me know if you prefer it that way or if it irks you.
As you see, many things happen in this chapter.
We get to see more of Juno and her backstory, which isn't anything particularly surprising.
Another OC inevitably finds his way to the story - Charles Slynt, the 6th-year Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and keeper.
I update a chapter every two weeks(Thursday or Friday)! You can find me on my discord(dgj93pNeAD), where you can read ahead or simply come chat or ask me or others some questions.