◤ ❝Your father and Sirius Black were friends, Miss Erebus. The kind that would have died for one another. Finding out what had happened at the Department of Mysteries was heartbreaking. I have never seen a Gryffindor and Slytherin so keen with the other in the many years I have been at this school. It is something you never forget.❞ ― Minerva McGonagall◢
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CHAPTER ELEVEN: IPHIGENIA
February 28, 1980
Celicia Erebus knew the moment that she entered the room that something was wrong, but that didn't matter much anymore. The two men in the middle of the office were red-faced, having previously shouted their frustrations through the walls. Alastiare stepped away from the man, his eyes softening at his recently-wedded wife with a genuine smile on his face. Any tension that had once carried throughout the room was replaced with something lighter. In the arms of Celicia was a small bundle of fabric, the smallest fingers in the world sticking out of the swaddle constraining them. When the little girl inside let out a small cry, Alastiare quickly walked over with a paternal kind of haste and reached to take the infant from his wife. Celicia let out a small mutter in thanks, looking across the room at the man to give a kind smile before she was off to get a few minutes of rest.
Alastiare's heart grew twice in size when his baby let out another small coo at the comfort of his arms, completely escaping from the blanket confining her. Her arms were raised out in the air now, searching for anything to grab at. Only born fourteen days ago on Valentine's Day, the father couldn't help but understand how fitting a day it was―how quickly she had him fumbling with a love that he could not explain, even if he tried.
He glanced up at the man a few feet away and made the decision to walk over not long after, cradling the little girl so delicately in fear that she would break. Her head always faced his right arm, and never his left. The thought of something so pure next to something so heinously dark brought a shiver down his spine. Such a terrible mark would never be close to his daughter's skin if he had his way.
"Sirius..." he said, lowly. "I would like for you to meet Andromeda Athella Erebus."
Sirius Black was eradicated of any and all unkind feelings the second that he saw the little girl's head peaking out from the cloth. Her large, brown eyes were curiously aware for a newborn. However, it was not the child which initially surprised him, but the name. His eyes shot up immediately when he recognized its familiarity on his tongue. "Alastiare, that's―"
"Your cousin," Alastiare said, casually. "A peculiar coincidence, isn't it?"
If Alastiare had noticed the tears gleaming in his friend's eyes, he had said nothing about it. Both men knew the degree of meaning that just took place, and all in a name. Sirius took a step forward, looking at the child with a warmness in his heart that only grew in size the moment that Andromeda met eyes with him. Instinctively, the infant reached with small hands for him, and Sirius wasted no time to comply and hand away his pinky finger. He would have given her anything she wanted in that moment, though. A finger, a hand, his heart, anything. She had stopped her fussing the second that she had hold of him, her wide eyes lighting up with an innocence that resembled her mother's.
Alastiare hummed as he watched. "She likes you. The moment Lucius came near her the other day, she began crying. Nott got no further than a few feet before she was wailing for Celicia...so far she's only wanted to be around Athella and Narcissa. Athella's boy, Theodore, too. We thought she may not be comfortable around other men, but..." he paused with a small smile, watching Sirius, "...she is plenty fine with you, it seems."
"Maybe she can See murderers," Sirius retorted quickly, frowning once he realized that he had let his previous feelings slip through again. Alastiare went to comment, most likely mentioning his own Mark, but he was stopped. "You are not one of them, Alastiare, and through it all...I know you never will be."
The man glanced down as his daughter. "It is not what it once was, Sirius. Things are changing. I fear it will not be much longer before this ends with only one of us standing. Either your Order survives the Dark Lord's reign...or he destroys everything and everyone between him."
"You can still choose, you know. There is still time. The Order could help. You could play both sides and help us to fight him," he rushed out, desperate in his attempts to persuade him. "You have everything you need to convince him of your loyalty need it be―your Occlumency, your Legilimency...we could fight this together, Alastiare. You, me, Celicia, Dumbledore, the Potters..."
Alastiare only smiled sadly at his friend. "There is no more time for me. I have accepted my mistakes, just as I will accept whatever befalls me after this war ends...but Celicia did not choose this. This little one," he glanced down at his daughter, "does not even know the difference between her own hands and feet...that is why I have only one thing to ask of you."
"You speak like you know you are going to die―"
"No," Alastiare dismissed. "But it will happen one day. In this life or another, my daughter will lose her father and we are both familiar with the absence that it leaves. I never want her to feel that. You have been my closest friend through it all, Sirius...I know that we have turned up on opposite sides of this battle, but you always remain by my side in the end. I will make a promise to you―that I will never harm you or anyone you love as long as I fight for the Dark Lord, that I will protect you as fiercely as I can, so long as you promise to protect my daughter in the event I die."
Sirius was enraged, his nose flaring with unspoken emotion as he stared at his friend for simply accepting his own demise and not fighting it―but then there was a gentle tug on his finger, and he realized that the little girl, little Mia, was still gripping onto it with the strength of a Bowtruckle. And he nodded moments after that, their own form of an Unbreakable Vow administered on that cold and dreary February night, the small fingers of Andromeda Erebus binding the two men to a promise they would take to their deaths sixteen years later.
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November 6, 1996
"Today we are going to discuss common misconceptions regarding the Dark Arts, as most of you have been taught various concepts about this malignant sort of magic over the course of your schooling here...not everything you believe is always true. It is important to acknowledge these misconceptions to keep away blinding judgements that could, if ever in the face of them, be the deciding factor of you living or dying."
Lecture days during Defense class were becoming Andromeda's least favorite, especially since the class was so early in the morning. The practical lessons when she could actually use defensive magic were what she was best at, but the days where Snape droned on and on about a particular topic or subject were definitely not her favorite―especially knowing that he would assign a lengthy essay for homework about the day's discussion (where was she meant to find the time for that). No, Mia did not enjoy it at all. Instead, she was doodling in her journal as the boy next to her played with the loose string on her left robe arm. Had it been anyone other that Draco so close to her Mark, she would have yanked away with force. Instead, she barely flinched when he accidentally grazed its location.
Because she had gotten to class later than usual, thanks to neither Tracey nor Daphne waking her up, her usual spot next to Theodore had been taken by Daphne that day―she suspected that her extra thirty minutes of sleep had been deliberate after that. It only meant she stole Zabini's seat next to Draco, who ended up by Tracey after kicking a Ravenclaw down to the front of the class by Granger. It showed how irritated Slytherins became when something changed unnecessarily. Daphne would be getting a word or two from more than just Mia after class.
Snape continued. "Now, perhaps one of the most common fallacies about the Dark Arts goes, that because the Unforgivable curses are from this strain of magic, all other variations of it must also be unforgivable...this is not true―can anyone think of an answer as to why?"
Mia's hand was held down firmly by Draco, who had pulled away from the string quickly to pin down her wrist. Granger had already raised her hand, anyway. "Sometimes curses and jinxes categorized in the Dark Arts are necessary to protect oneself, particularly when your opposer is also using Dark magic, sir."
"Correct, Miss Granger," Snape said, although the words were cut like acid on his tongue. He hated giving any praise to students that weren't his own, and it was even more of a slap to the face that it was a muggleborn such as Granger. "In certain circumstances, there is no decision to be made. The Dark Arts are not deliberately evil, but those who preform them that lead the magic astray...that is why we teach you defense against a Dark wizard's actions, not what magic they may use."
Ignoring the lesson, Draco leaned his body over a bit more so that he could talk to Mia. "Have you spoken to Snape since...?"
"No. I suspect it won't be long now before he pulls one of us aside," she said. "Ignoring his written requests to meet with him aren't the best idea either. He is growing frustrated, I feel it. Only means he'll have more to say when he does finally corner us."
Draco frowned. "He still stares at me, but I can't feel him trying to get in my head anymore."
"Because he knows that you are trying hard to keep him out. Occlumency is...it's like parchment covering in the beginning," she started, her voice quiet as she kept her eyes on the front of the classroom. Thankfully, Blaise and Draco had chosen seats in one of the dark corners. "Your aunt Bella may have taught you well enough to get by, but there is still the chance to tear through―see through―because it is such a thin cover. You and I both need to get stronger with it because Snape is going to fix himself in my mind once he finds yours impenetrable."
"I thought your father never taught you Occlumency."
She shook her head. "He hadn't. He wanted to. I suppose because he had fears that this would happen―he was skilled in both Occlumency and Legilimency. Part of the reason why the Dark Lord kept him so close is because of that; part of the reason why he had him on such a tight leash, too, because he had to blindly believe in my father's loyalty. I had been too interested in being Legilimens to ever consider learning Occlumency first... I can't block my mind, but I can alter the thoughts of anyone who tries to read it. I just need to learn how to control it. I'm all right at it, but not perfect."
"You want to practice again," Draco deadpanned.
Mia's mouth went dry. She knew what she was asking him. "Not if you―"
"No," he interrupted, and his hand went tighter around her wrist. She forgot it was still there. "We need to get stronger. We can start tonight."
She only gave him a small nod, and then returned back to listening to the rest of Snape's lecture. It was not as interesting as it was in the beginning of the year. The Dark Arts used to be one of her favorite topics of discussion, but now it only made a vile taste to build in her mouth. She had seen every side of the Dark Arts, and now that she had finally accepted that she was a Dark witch herself, the conversation just made her feel ill knowing that she was around people learning the skills to duel against her kind. With every lesson came a greater defense for these students when the Death Eaters came, though.
Transfiguration Class was not too long after Defense ended (with an 11-inch essay on that day's lecture), and the entire way there, Daphne was getting reprimanded by Blaise and Tracey who went back and forth complaining about being stuck next to one another. They never had liked each other much. Mia kept quiet, surprisingly, because she noticed that Theo was flustered after Tracey spouted on about how Daphne "...just had to sit next to him, didn't you, Greengrass? Haven't drooled at him enough the last six years?" Rest assured, when they were finally seated in McGonagall's class, everyone had returned back to their rightful partners.
"Ever going to tell her that you like her as well or should we continue to act like she doesn't exist anytime she's near?" Mia asked casually, playing with the end of her wand with interest as McGonagall set up the lesson. "Maybe you can learn a spell in here to turn you into a tree so it will be easier to avoid detection anytime she speaks to you. You only need the branches, you've already accomplished its height."
Theo wasted no time turning to glower at her. "Mind yourself and wipe the smirk off your face before I turn you into a shrub, seeing as you are short enough."
"Well that's not nice. My own flesh and blood. I was only curious!"
Theodore got her back for her curiosity by turning her hair a deep shade of green for the day. McGonagall had them trying to transfigure using the hair changing incantation Crinus Muto, and of course, Theo was perfect at it. Mia, on the other hand, would rather stab herself in the eye with her wand than use it for Transfiguration class. She did manage to knick a piece of Bulstrode's eyebrow off on accident, but they were already so bushy that it was a kind service more than a problem. With her house pride burning darkly on her head, Mia sent a final glare at Theodore as she walked up to McGonagall once class had ended. Her housemates were already departing, Draco flicking her green hair with a snort as he exited alongside his lackeys. She hated both of them.
"Professor McGonagall," she said, grumbling as she did so.
The older woman turned around, and her eyes lit up in surprise when she looked at her green hair. "Miss Erebus! Well done! I hadn't even noticed you were able to accomplish the spell."
"Not my doing. My cousin thought it would be funny to show off, though," she explained and watched as McGonagall's mouth opened in understanding. "Is there any way you could lift the spell? Both of us tried, but it only made the color darker."
"I'm sorry, Miss Erebus. The spell is enchanted to lift after twenty-four hours. If you attempt to use the incantation twice, it will only darken or slightly alter the state of the spell. I mentioned that at the beginning of class. However, Mister Nott did a very good job of transfiguring your hair, even if he was meant to focus on his own self. Ten points will be awarded to Slytherin because of it, although I know that does nothing to ease your troubles..."
"No, but thank you for trying, Professor." Mia was even more annoyed now, huffing under her breath about how she was going to take one of her cousin's eyebrows off in his sleep that night. Just as she went to turn around, McGonagall was calling out her name again. She turned to see that the woman's humor was changed to apprehension. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I have intended on asking you this for a while now, but I could never find the right opportunity. Are you well? When I heard about your father..." McGonagall's eyes drifted away from her then. Mia had never seen that dreadful emotion on her before, and it only made it harder to watch. "I taught Alastiare in this very classroom for seven years. He was such a bright student."
Andromeda had noticed something in the coming months―everyone seemed to know her parents, and not one of them ever mentioned all of the bad things that surrounded the Erebus family name. McGonagall hadn't mentioned that her father died because he was a Death Eater. Slughorn hadn't mentioned a few weeks ago that Celicia was married to one either. They only spoke of them when they were teenagers, students here themselves, as if their lives stopped the moment they graduated. Maybe they had. After all, her father joined the Dark Lord only a year after he left Hogwarts.
Mia watched McGonagall, curious. "Things would be easier if the Daily Prophet stopped bringing up his death, but I was able to spend the summer mourning him. Mother keeps his memory alive...though she mentioned the complete opposite about him in your class. Apparently, he and Sirius Black were troublemakers?"
It was difficult to say Sirius Black's name without spitting it in malice, but she managed because her curiosity was overwhelming her hatred. She always wanted to ask McGonagall about her father's friendship with the Gryffindor since she discovered it. No one spoke of them much, aside from Celicia in her letters and Narcissa briefly in Twilfitt and Tattings back in August. Even then, it remained a mystery to her. McGonagall looked pained for a moment, having to sit down at the chair behind her desk to collect her thoughts as the memories resurfaced. Mia waited, patiently.
"I sat Alastiare and Sirius next to one another after they got into a mindless duel their fifth year, throwing jinxes just outside of my classroom. I thought that it would settle the feud...and it had, between them, although I suspected that their houses were not happy with their becoming companionship. James Potter had not been too fond of it, as I remember...but they remained close. They continued to sit alongside each other sixth year, and then again in my seventh year class."
Mia bit down on her tongue, but it didn't stop her words. "Must have been a great Transfiguration partner."
"Your father and Sirius Black were friends, Miss Erebus," she urged the girl to understand, her eyes wide and full of emotion as she spoke. "The kind that would have died for one another. Finding out what had happened at the Department of Mysteries was heartbreaking...I have never seen a Gryffindor and Slytherin so keen with the other in the many years I have been at this school. It is something you never forget."
"Then why did he kill him?"
Andromeda's outburst had been unexpected to both her and Professor McGonagall, who glanced up in surprise when she heard the gravel that curved around Mia's words. She was gritting her teeth together hard, unaware that the resentment had grown hotter the longer that the woman talked so fondly of a friendship that ended up with one killing the other. The look of despair on McGonagall made her even more upset, but even she respected the professor too much to dare speak out against her again.
"I believe there is more to it than that," McGonagall said, softly.
That made Mia step back in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Only that I do not believe Sirius would ever cause intentional harm to Alastiare," she explained. "And I believe just as similarly that your father would have―that he very well had―done everything possible to protect his friend that night. Even if it meant the cost of his own life."
Her throat had gone dry, and she was trying to soak in the information that McGonagall was telling her. "Why are you...professor, why are you talking to me about this?"
"Under any other circumstance, I would have never spoken any of this with a student," McGonagall said, shaking her head in disapproval. "As it so happens, I see a remarkable amount of your father in you...but I also see that you are building up a hatred for a man that Alastiare would never have wanted out of you."
"If Sirius Black was so important to him, why was he never mentioned?" Mia asked with raised brows, accusingly. "Never once had I heard that name spoken in any regard other than as a madman in Azkaban. As far as I see it, my father lost his friendship with Black sixteen years ago. Maybe you are wrong, and Black killed my father with every intent to do so after sitting in a cell for so long."
McGonagall was frowning, but her face was considering it. "It is possible, but..."
"No," Mia dismissed, hard. She shook her head and stepped away. "I will not believe in the hope of a dead man. Thank you for telling me this and for all of your help, professor, but I should be getting to my break now. My cousin will wonder where I've been."
Although she had said her parting words, it didn't look like they took. Professor McGonagall still retained the same far-away look that she'd had the entire time, recalling the past like it was yesterday to her. Mia ignored it, and she moved off the few steps at the front of the classroom. She wanted to get out of there before any more theories and alternative deaths played into the conversation. She was perfectly fine settling with the reality that Sirius Black killed her father, and that in turn meant she would spend the rest of her life hating someone who was already dead―that she would channel all of that rage onto his precious godson, and wither in that wrath until the day she died herself.
She got to the exit of the door before she was interrupted by Professor McGonagall. "Miss Erebus. I encourage you to speak with your mother or the headmaster about the events that happened regarding your father's death...they may provide closure that you do not realize you yet need."
Mia wanted to scream that she had long since found closure, and McGonagall had only reopened that wound. No! she wanted to cry out, but all words were lost to her as she paused in her steps. Bearing the thoughts that were overtaking her no more, Mia set off and left her professor and her assumptions behind. Sirius Black would not receive any compassion from her. He held as much importance to her as her pinky finger.
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"Again."
"Draco―"
"Again, Romy."
Andromeda sighed heavily, running her hands through her green-tinted hair as she readied herself for the tenth round of trying to break into Draco's mind. Immediately after dinner, they headed towards the Room of Requirement with their henchmen in tow. Ever since Potter's obsession with them had grown, Draco decided to put the two buffoons through more torture and steal Polyjuice Potion to wean off any suspicions. In the door outside of the Room, they were currently wearing the faces of two seventh year Ravenclaws, Cordelia Gifford and Sylvia Harecross, while she and Draco suffered on the other side of things.
Draco had been blocking all of Andromeda's attempts to get into his mind with ease, but he insisted to continue because he 'wanted Mia to build up her own strength.' She knew the truth without even needing access to his thoughts; he was terrified of Snape discovering what he was doing, and that resulted in a new resiliency to form in order to keep their mentor away from his brain. He was breaking a sweat trying to keep up the block, but Mia could feel the tears on the edges. His Occlumency was thinning, and she started to see flashes before he thickened its ends again.
Mia looked directly at Draco, making eye contact with him from her place in the chair and his on the stool. "Are you ready?"
"Get on with it," he urged, impatiently.
She hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Legilimens."
Very quickly, the feeling of a band being snapped sucked her into Draco's head. The first thing that she felt was the tug in the back of her mind, connecting her with his as she kept up the eye contact. Then, she hit the all-too-familiar wall like a ton of bricks. The urge to recoil away from it and back into herself was severe that time. Gritting her teeth, Mia pushed herself to find an edging that was frail, ignoring the way that his defense was causing pain in her brain. She found it before he even had the opportunity to see that there was a minor flaw in his shield, and the sliver of access had been all she needed before she was digging through the multiple layers of Draco's brain.
"He is my father! What do you expect me to do, dishonor his name and put you in harms way by defying what the Dark Lord asks of me?" Draco was screaming at Narcissa, his eyes filled with a sense of impenetrable fear. His emotions shuddered through her body like they were her own. "Father is incarcerated, Mother! So many of them are gone, and those roles will have to be filled with someone! I must do this!"
That memory slipped from her mind, and she could tell that Draco was starting to find the errors in his defense, as well. Too late, as she was already being forced into another memory that her mind grabbed at with eagerness.
Draco was with his mother again, but this time, there were remnants of tears on his angry face. "What do you mean he's asked her to be one, as well? The other Death Eaters already question their family name, Mother! The Ministry is out to get them all the same! Are you prepared to watch your friend die in the same manner that her husband did? And what about Andromeda? Has no one considered her in ANY of this?"
Narcissa was sobbing, her words in broken English. "...never meant for any of this, sweetheart...we promised we would protect you both...this is all wrong..."
With a sickening snap, that memory had disappeared as well when Draco built a layer around it. She dug deeper, hitting walls left and right as she looked for something else. Pulling her in one direction, she was submerged all over again. This time, she was staring at herself.
She was younger, wearing a dreadful purple dress that her mother had stuck her in when she was seven. It was odd to look at herself through another person's eyes. She could feel the sense of innocence that radiated around her and Draco as they were cornered at one of the pureblood parties. Theodore was off to the side, curled up into himself as he waited for his mother to return from the bathroom―Mia remembered her feeling ill that day. They hadn't known it was a fatal sickness at the time.
"And-Romy-Duh," Draco said, his syllables stretched out as he frowned at her. "You never answered my question...do you think we'll like being in Slytherin? Father says there's no other house for me! I am going to win us the House cup and the Quidditch cup every year! I'm an expert flier, you see."
The younger her rolled her eyes. "Stop saying my name like that, and stop being bigheaded, Draco."
"Fine then, Romy," he emphasized the new nickname with a triumphant grin, "when I win the House cup and you are stuck in Gryffindor, don't come running to share in my glory."
Mia scoffed. "As if I want to share anything with you."
"Just you watch! One day you will come running to my side, Romy!"
She had slammed into a mental wall as hard as stone without warning, strong enough for her to jerk back and break eye contact with Draco. The strain it caused made her lean forward in agony, cradling her head in her hands to find any relief from the pain. Moments after, hands were grabbing a hold of her shoulders and the faint, indistinguishable sound of Draco yelling her name hummed in her ears. It was a few minutes of sitting like that, curled up into her knees as her blonde counterpart tried to ease the pain in her head with his hands soothing her hair.
With shaking hands, she hesitantly lifted them away from her head and glanced up. Draco was right in front of her, his eyes stricken with worry as he immediately reached for her face in both hands to check and see if she had any visible injuries. When he had settled that they were only mental, he returned back to facing her only to notice that she had flinched when they made eye contact. "Romy, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to―I could feel all of the corners you were trying to go to. I tried to stop them, but I never meant to hurt you..."
"No," she croaked out, squeezing her eyes shut as she sat up and away from his hands. "You did really well. I just forgot what it felt like to have someone resist...I hadn't been prepared for it with the last memory. I know why your Occlumency is weak in some places now, though."
Draco leaned back, swallowing hard as he kept a close eye on her. "Why?"
"The memories that hold the most emotion," she began, opening her eyes with some hesitation to look at him again. "They are the ones that are hardest to hide. You can read someone better when they are upset or overwhelmed with one single emotion. Your mother is a trigger for you..."
She paused, and he knew why. He finished for her. "And so are you. So all of the memories with you and my mother are susceptible?"
"I don't think so. Not all of them. I could only reach certain memories―you were angry or afraid in most of them, upset. You need to find a way to compartmentalize those strong emotions into their own area and hide that part more than the others...that's where Snape will go for first. It's a small opening, like a folded corner, but it is just big enough for me to have seen through."
It made sense. The first day back in the Great Hall, when she had accidentally used Legilimency on the first-year Natalie, the girl had been so overwhelmed with emotions that it was easy to get into her mind. In Defense with Theodore, he had been too focused on his nonverbal spell to pay attention to his rampant emotions. Even with Vaisey in the hall, he was thinking about his feelings for her―it made sense. Of course it did. Mia slipped into the minds of those accidentally because they were vulnerable to her in that moment.
"And I can fix it?" he asked, desperately.
The dull pain in her head spoke for itself. "I think you already have."
They didn't attempt any more that night. Draco had insisted that Mia go to bed and that he would return to the Vanishing Cabinet, but the sweat and exhausted building on his face made Mia tug him along with her out of the Room. Neither one of them spoke again of the memories that she had seen in his mind that night, thankful that they were not as invasive or brutal as the ones she had seen that past summer. Still, Mia worried. She knew what Draco's privacy meant to him, and to have her invade every bit of that was a cruel torture to him.
However, that night he seemed like he was more worried about the pain he had unintentionally caused her rather than the access she had into his mind. Andromeda didn't have the heart or the words to tell him that she had seen one more memory just before he was pulled out from her brain. A memory that stuck to her like a vat of poison, leaking slowly into her bloodstream.
Draco was quietly sitting in the corner of the room as Bellatrix stampeded around the room in a fit of rage, spouting on to Narcissa with such fury the windows of the manor rattled. "That no-good, lying, impotent, TRAITOR! HE DARE SAVE THE LIFE OF SIRIUS BLACK OVER ONE OF HIS OWN? I would have skinned that man from his neck to his toes for betraying us! WHAT A COWARD HE WAS! Died alongside our dear cousin, though! Showed him right! Traitors to everything, they are! HA! They were! Ought to go after that filthy little daughter of his next―sharing a name with our traitor sister too!"
Narcissa had shot forward before Draco even had the chance to look up in horror. "You will not, Bella. Alastiare Erebus may have been a coward, but his wife and daughter are friends to us―to this family. No harm will come to that girl so long as I live, sister, or you will find that we are more similar than you expected."
"You would protect THEM?" Bella glared, screeching at her sister. "The Erebus name is tainted, poisoned! The Dark Lord will destroy them if I don't get to them myself, Cissy―she'll end up just like her father! Betraying you! Betraying this family! TRAITORS, ALL OF THEM!"
Traitors they were indeed.
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Author's Note:
More is being revealed about Alastiare's death, and that it was not as black and white as everyone wrote it off to be. There are a lot of things that happened that night that we don't yet know about it, and I happen to adore Sirius. The little flashback at the beginning warmed and broke my heart all the same.
What do YOU think may have happened at the Department of Mysteries?
Did you like this chapter, do you love the story? Please let me know!
I still haven't decided who Vaisey's face claim would be. Any ideas or opinions?
IPHIGENIA: SACRIFICED BY HER TRAITOROUS FATHER TO ARTEMIS