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Chapter Text

"Believe me," begged Black. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

Harry looked into the sunken eyes of the man and, for the first time, registered their colour. A stormy grey that made it easy to believe that the dirty, gaunt, angry man in front of him once ran through the castle laughing and spreading mischief. It seemed as if everything suddenly clicked into place for Harry. He saw Sirius Black, the boy, standing before him, and if he squinted, he could almost see his father next to him.

Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

"No!"

Pettigrew screamed, his face contorted in terror. He folded his shaking hands into a prayer and fell to his knees.

"Sirius—it's me... it's Peter... your friend... you wouldn't..."

Black's face showed no mercy. White hot fury emblazed him, and he kicked Pettigrew, making the kneeling man fall backward. He scrambled back up, and Harry couldn't help but think of a cockroach. Crawling, scattering, so quickly squashed by someone bigger.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew crawled to the professor. "You don't believe this. Wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" His eyes on Blacks held no accusation, only a small smile.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black in a manner Harry couldn't quite place

"I never could hold a grudge against you for too long," said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lupin grimly.

"You wouldn't... you won't...," gasped Pettigrew, "You shouldn't… I know stuff!"

Black rolled his eyes, "There you go again, no spine, whoever holds your leash has your loyalt—"

"I saw her!"

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving behind a stillness that seemed unnatural considering the last couple of minutes.

"What?" came Lupin's voice, with a dangerous edge. For the first time that night, in fact, for the first time since he had met the professor, Harry saw his ordinarily calm demeanor slip into something that made him want to take a step back. Hermione's words sank in as if on a delay, and Harry registered that the man was not just a man but a monster, too.

"I- I saw her! After… After October." Pettigrew's eyes shone at finding something that caught the men's interest. 

While Harry didn't know who the 'she' Pettigrew was talking about was, Lupin and Black didn't have that problem.

"What do you mean? Where is she? What happened," Black's breath quickened, and his manic eyes darted across the room as if searching for someone, "I looked for her. Her family," Lupin gripped his wand tighter, pointing it at Pettigrew's face, "nothing! NOTHING!"

His eyes wandered over to Lupin as if begging him to answer the questions he had asked Pettigrew. But Lupin didn't meet his eyes. His gaze was glued to the man on his knees. Harry suddenly wondered whether Lupin's lycanthropy made him able to always see a bit of animal in other people; the way he looked at Pettigrew was not how one looked upon another person. It was a look reserved for insects and maggots, perhaps rats.

"You were…" Lupin cleared his throat, and with a start, Harry realized his professor was shaking, "you were there?"

Pettigrew just nodded. His face was hopeful. Body relaxing ever so slightly.

"A couple weeks after… well after it, everyone gathered. She was there. I saw her! I spoke with her." Black looked conflicted at that, opening his mouth, but Pettigrew kept talking. "She looked so beautiful."

That was the breaking point for Lupin, who shot forward, grabbing Pettigrew by his jacket.

"YOU SAW HER THERE AND LEFT HER? YOU SAW WHAT THEY DID TO HER? WHAT HAS SHE EVER DONE TO YOU TO DESERVE THAT?"

Black had to wrestle Lupin from shaking Peter Pettigrew. Restraining him against his own chest, trying to soothe the werewolf.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at one another, Harry's and Ron's gazes holding a similar expression of expectation. Surely, Hermione could freshen their memories of who they were talking about. But her face was twisted in the same confusion.

Harry almost felt annoyed. The man had betrayed his parents, leading to their deaths, and one of his father's supposed best friends stayed calm facing him. The mention of the mysterious 'she' had set him off.

Looking back at Lupin, however, made his stomach clench. The grief he saw made him reconsider his thoughts. Perhaps it wasn't about who it happened to but rather what had happened. Harry realized he might be too young to understand what would turn a man like Remus Lupin into the twisted version he saw before him.

Black had calmed Lupin down enough to let go of him. He did stand closer to him than before, though. One hand outstretched to catch the werewolf in case he leaped at Pettigrew's throat.

"Ultimately, it doesn't matter, Peter," Lupin's voice hadn't completely regained its usual softness, a cynical edge distorting it, "Helene… she was with me afterward."

Black's head snapped towards Lupin. The two men made eye contact for mere seconds before both looked down. An understanding had passed between them. Black looked resigned, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Lupin's eyes looked haunted.

Realizing that further talking about her wasn't helping his case, Pettigrew turned to Ron, begging him for help, and Harry momentarily forgot about Helene.

In the tunnels back to Hogwarts, Harry remembered her.

Helene

He wondered who she was. In what relation did she stand with the three men? Did she know his parents? Did she go to Hogwarts? What happened to her?

He darted a glance at Sirius, not knowing whether he should ask his godfather about what had just happened. He was scared that one wrong question would make Sirius reconsider his offer of letting Harry stay with him.

"You have her curiosity and his lack of tact, you know? Just ask Harry."

"Who is Helene?"

Sirius sighed. It wasn't annoyance but a deep, grieving sigh. Closing his eyes, Sirius ran a hand through his face.

"I don't even know where to start," he opened his eyes and looked up, only to drop his gaze back down as if the tunnel of earth wasn't what he had wanted to see. "She was a friend—No, she was more than that. You know about us, I assume—the Marauders, as we'd liked to call ourselves: Remus, James, me, and… Peter.

"She wasn't a Marauder, of course; she was a year under us and a girl, and we were children, so stuff like that mattered. But still, she was my closest friend outside of our little group. Sometimes, I think she was the only one who understood me completely. Don't get me wrong, your father was everything to me, and he saved me in ways you can't even imagine, but he didn't get it. And Remus… well, it was different with Remus."

Harry looked at Sirius and saw the man lost in thought.

"She, like me, was an heir to one of the Sacred Twenty-Nine."

Harry, of course, had heard about them before, the families that were considered completely pure by wizarding standards. He remembered that it was 28 instead of 29 but dismissed it, considering Sirius's state.

"She seemed great."

"She was. Sometime else I'll tell you more about her. You should know her. You deserve to know her."

Harry and Sirius smiled at one another. Both imagine living together. Not yet knowing that their flimsy plan was about to be ripped apart by the ever-growing full moon shining outside.

Ultimately, Harry never did learn much more about her. Over the years, he'd gathered glimpses of the girl who had made such a distinct mark in the lives of the people close to her.

Sirius, Remus, and even Peter thought of her until death took them into his embrace.

When Harry went into the woods to confront Voldemort for the final time, and visions of dead loved ones surround him, he sees a girl there, too.

Dark blonde hair, opaque green eyes, and a small smile. Just a couple years older than him. She looked at him with more love than a mere stranger ever could.

He swore to himself that if he would get out of this, he would search for her. Find out who she was, ensuring she wasn't another forgotten casualty of the war.

He hasn't done so yet, dear reader, busy with his life post-war. His friends, his family, grief, and love, tearing his body in every direction there is.

That is alright, of course, for there is a stack of letters in Sirius' old bedroom in Grimmauld Place explaining parts of her story. Waiting patiently.

And if that wouldn't be enough for him, he could venture into the past even further. He might find the almost burned-down house hundreds of miles away there. In it, coated by a layer of dust, hidden in the attic, and mysteriously untouched by fire or smoke, a portrait of two almost forgotten lovers dancing round and round, never taking their eyes off one another.

Chapter Text

The constellation of Leo had haunted her since birth.

Her grandmother, Philomena Bullard née Sifakis, once told her the story of the Nemean Lion. How he was an unbeatable monster—resistant to any weaponry—kidnapping women and slaughtering men who came to rescue them. Until one day, a hero named Heracles bested the creature with nothing but his bare hands. To commemorate his efforts, the King of the Gods, Zeus, placed the lion in the sky.

Helene sometimes wished he didn’t. She felt that putting the beast within reach of the earth might anger it even more. It was so close to life, so close to flesh, but unable to touch, kill, or possess.

Couldn’t they sense his fury? The blazing light that seemed to be interwoven with her.

Couldn’t they feel the burning breath, the sharp point of its teeth? Grazing her throat, leaving its marks.

Was she the only one realizing the danger they were all in?

Philomena, Mimi, as Helene liked to call her, disagreed with her. She spoke of a strong, brave animal. Instead of kidnapping, he was protecting. The men were not slaughtered but brought to justice.

Helene never saw that. The thought of violence scared her. The smell of blood made her stomach turn. How could the lion be anything but a monster? A wild and wicked thing. Untamable.

When Helen was born on the 22 of August 1960, Mimi wept. She spoke of the intense lion and its potential. The eccentric woman wouldn’t leave the baby’s bedside for three days until Norman and Odelia Feigrhail, the baby’s parents, agreed to use her proposed second name.

She never explained it further other than saying that upon hearing the date of birth of the Feigrhail heir, it had to happen.

Helene Astrophel Feigrhail was born in the last couple of hours of the Leo and cursed that daily. If only she had been born just hours later. Maybe then the lion would have left her alone. Maybe then Mimi wouldn’t have spoken of grandness in her name. Of time running out.

It seemed to her like her life was built on ultimatums. On extremes. Never just a daughter. Never just a child. Looking up at Leo’s brightest star, she thought she might not be alone.

Alpha Leonis; Regulus.

A star that appears singular but is composed of two pairs. Two sides. One visible and one never observed. One shining bright enough to eclipse all the other stars in its vicinity. The other hiding. Weak. So easily outshined. 

Its placement at the end of the ‘Sickle’ that was the lion’s head.

Holding the blade to its throat. Or supporting its head. Both seemed true.

It was the 1 of September. In the early morning hours, Helene couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sky.

She liked the thought of being swallowed by it.

In a couple hours, a new chapter of her life began, and the anxiety that coursed through her made her want to stay still forever.

A light breeze rustled her hair, and the girl shivered. She was born cold, reaching for warmth that seemed to repel from her body. The thin blanket she had haphazardly slung over her shoulder did little to help.

Sitting on the balcony of her room, Helene could overlook most of the gardens belonging to the Feigrhail estate. She could see the pond full of Koi fish, whom she had all given names to at the age of eight despite her parents’ disapproval. The lane of trees. All perfectly symmetrical. The proud oak that bore the scratched initials of her and a pair of brothers. 

Sirius and Regulus Black.

The only children of the proud Orion and Walburga Black.

Sirius Black. The heir of the noble and most ancient house of Black.

Mimi once told Helene that, other than her parents, he was the first person to hold her. It was seen as a tradition, a good luck charm, to have the future husband of a newborn girl be given an immediate hold of her. Due to his young age—the boy was not even a year old—he was also the first to drop her.

Helene never voiced her theories out loud, but sometimes she’d speculate whether him dropping her made a more significant mark than just the scar she now bears on her left temple. Perhaps he had signed his destiny when his slippery toddler hands let her fall. He was never to become her husband.

Last year, when Sirius started his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had done the unthinkable and had been sorted into the wrong house. Four houses; only one honorable. The house he had been sorted into was the worst of all. The house of mudbloods and blood traitors. The second the sorting hat opened its mouth and declared Gryffindor to the world, the engagement was called off. Sirius was shunned.

Of course, he was still her Sirius. Her Sirius, who fell out of the tree after climbing it high enough so that the carved-in initials wouldn’t be noticed. Her Sirius, who tried in vain to bake her a birthday cake every year without the help of the house elves, failing every time. Her Sirius who owled her a letter after his sorting, apologizing for destroying the future neither of them genuinely wanted anyway.

That left Regulus Black. The spare of the noble and most ancient house of Black.

Born precisely 6 months after Helene on the 22 of February, they had been inseparable since birth.

Regulus was a quiet thing of a boy. Smaller than Sirius. Paler than Sirius. Helene sometimes wondered whether Sirius took too much during his birth. Like when he was pushed out of his mother’s womb, he stole all the greatness, leaving behind a bare wasteland for Regulus to cling to.

Helene herself never strived for greatness, seeing no reason for it.

She knew how her life would go.

School. Marriage. Children. Death.

While Sirius would tease Regulus for his lack of passion, Helene would happily stand by and watch.

She was to be a wife and the mother of the boy who would ultimately be the heir to the Feigrhail name. She was not going to be great.

A slow sigh escaped her parted lips, and her tired eyes closed without permission. When she reopened them, the stars were gone.

Shock rippled through her upon seeing the oranges and purples that now made up the sky. She hasted back into her room, jumping in bed, hoping no one had been in yet to wake her. 

The nights were for rest, not for dreaming; her mother would scold her. Helene wasn’t sure whether her mother understood the irony of that statement.

A hesitant knock on her door made her close her eyes and huddle deeper into her blankets.

“Miss?” The door opened, and the small form of Nelda, one of the family’s house elves, walked in.

Helene sat up, stretching and yawning, rubbing her eyes, “Is it morning already?”

“Yes, Miss. Mistress Feigrhail expects young Helene to be dressed appropriately in half an hour downstairs. Does the Miss need help with her hair?”

"No, that is alright."

With that, Nelda left, and Helene got out of bed. Regulus sometimes scolded her for how she spoke with the house elves. The boy had a soft spot for them that Helene never entirely understood. The house elves were her servants. She didn’t thank the horse that carried her or the birds that flew above her either.

A bleeding heart, Sirius used to call him.

Getting ready wasn’t tricky. Her robes had already been picked out the night before, and Helene’s pin-straight hair never caused a struggle in the morning.

So, with nerves fluttering around her stomach, Helene walked down the grand staircase of the Feigrhail Mansion after precisely 30 minutes.

In the dining room sat her mother, back straight, waiting at the table. She was a proud woman—stick-thin and taller than most. Her light brown hair was always up in a tight knot, and Helene had never seen her mother in less-than-pristine robes. They were always ironed to the point where Regulus and Helene used to speculate whether they would be able to stand on their own.

Upon seeing Helene walk in, she called for the house elves to serve the breakfast, and Helene sat down on the opposite side of the table.

“You look tired." Her mother took a sip of the tea that had been poured for her and gazed critically over the cup’s brim. Helene knew her mother didn’t wish for a reply, so she just filled a bowl with porridge and fruit.

“Your father had to go to work already, but he wishes you a smooth start at school.”

It wasn’t surprising, but how easily her father would let her go still stung a bit. Of course, she knew that she was a disappointment for her father.

The only heir you would ever produce being a girl would be a thorn in the side of every man.

See, the Feigrhail Family was cursed. Only one eligible child was born in every generation, one chance for an heir. For the last centuries, that child had always been a boy. Helene broke that tradition and, with that, rightfully had to live with her father’s displeasure.

While eating, her mother went over what was expected of her at Hogwarts again: good grades, Respectful behavior, no blood mixing, and a dignified appearance. Helene only nodded her head at appropriate times and silently ate her breakfast.

After that, the final preparations were made to leave the estate. The house elves brought the trunks down, and Helene and her mother put on their cloaks.

Helene’s mother was the first of the two to stride into the fireplace. They would use the floo network to get to the train station from which the train would depart for Hogwarts.

After her mother vanished into the green flames, Helene stood alone. She looked around once more. The halls that used to be all she knew would turn into memories, and she wasn't sure whether it was excitement or nerves she felt at that.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the fireplace, picked up a handful of floo powder, and threw it on the ground while clearly pronouncing her destination.

“Kingscross station, platform nine three-quarter”

When she stepped out, she was no longer in the luxurious halls of her family’s Mansion. Now, she was on a train platform among countless bustling people.

She spotted her mother a few paces away in conversation with another woman. Knowing one of the house elves would bring the luggage to the station and make sure it got on a carriage, she joined her mother.

The woman her mother was talking to was gaunt, pale, and had hair as black as coal. Walburga Black was impossible to overlook.

“Nice to see you, Helene, my dear.”

"Nice to see you too, Madame Black.” Helene curtsied to the high-class woman. “I hope you had a stress-free morning.”

“‘Stress-free’? Wouldn’t that be a trea—”

She was cut off by a head of dark hair rushing past her, picking up Helene and twirling her around.

“Sirius, let her go this instant!” The boy in question dropped Helene but did not dignify his mother by looking at her. Instead, he grinned at Helene with an almost dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Wotcha, Lenny." Sirius Black stood before her, wearing what could only be described as a slap to the face of every respectable wizard. His robes were cut in half, barely grazing his hips, his dress shirt was rumpled, and his pants were too tight, making his legs look like sticks.

Helene was speechless, which made Sirius grin harder than before.

Before Sirius could make even more of a spectacle, his mother grabbed him by the cuff of his robes, pulling him backward so that he stood right next to her.

Before Helene could greet Sirius, the two remaining men of the Black household joined the group.

“Good morning, Helena."

No one remembered when Regulus started calling Helene ‘Helena,’ they figured; he probably always had. Helene never minded it, considering it wasn’t far from her name. Sirius had created enough peculiar nicknames to last a lifetime; she was curious about why, though the younger brother had never revealed the reason.

“Good morning, Regulus.”

Soon, Walburga got sick of her older son bouncing on the back of his heels and stretching his neck as if looking for someone, so she stepped aside with her sons and husband to say farewell.

 That left Helene and Odelia to do the same.

Taking Helene’s face into her hand, her mother looked her deep into her eyes. “Listen here, my girl. This is going to be an opportunity not many have the pleasure of experiencing. Your father granted you the honor of getting this education. Don’t make him regret it. Just do what you do best and behave. Make us proud.”

With that, she gave Helene, who was beaming up at her mother, a chaste kiss on the cheek and left.

When Helene turned around, she came face to face with the two Black brothers. One was smirking so wide his cheeks must hurt, and the other was wearing what would seem for most to be a blank face. But Helene saw his masked anxiety in the way his fingers twisted around themselves and how he stood a bit too close to his older brother.

She gave him a soft smile, and Sirius stepped forward to grasp her hand, pulling her to stand next to him. With his other hand, he grasped Regulus’s.

“Ready for some fun, you two?”

Before either could respond, the boy had already dragged them through the train entries.

Chapter Text

“So, as you can see, we’re on a train. Nothing special about it,” Sirius led both Helene and Regulus through corridors of compartments. Walking at a speed that made it difficult for the younger two to keep up. “I doubt you’ll be able to get lost on it, considering it’s just one long strip, but if you do ever feel disoriented, just scream as loud as you can. Someone will probably help you.” 

Helene was tripping over her feet, trying to keep pace with Sirius, who now started to monologue about the proper evacuation orders, should it ever be necessary. She wasn’t sure where he got the information from, but the longer he went on, the surer she became; he was just making it all up as he went. 

Regulus, however, was nodding along, staring up at his brother in complete devotion. 

“—and if the unicorn starts to bow up instead of running, drop the candle and run as fast as you—oh, here we go!” a gleeful grin had appeared on Sirius’s face, looking at the compartment they were now standing in front of. 

“I don’t mean to sound dramatic,” Sirius said, pausing dramatically for a few seconds, “but the three people in this compartment will change your life.” 

With that, he opened the door and pushed Regulus and Helene inside, stepping in after them and closing the door behind himself. 

Helene looked up, eyes wide. Looking back at her, there were three boys. They all had to be around Sirius’s age and were looking back just as startled as she was. 

The first boy to collect himself sat on the right side, closest to the window. He had jet-black hair that seemed to be the nest of several baby birds—Helene couldn’t think of another reason why hair could get so messy—and a slight tooth gap showed itself when the boy grinned. Round glasses sat on the edge of his nose, too far down to be helpful. And though the fine tailoring of his robes indicated a wealthy upbringing, his posture said otherwise. 

“Blimey, mate, I was starting to worry. Thought your parents had pulled you from school.” The boy jumped from his seat and strolled towards the three. He clapped his hand on Sirius’s shoulder and smiled toothily at him,” ’course we would have gotten you to school one way or another. Pete suggested Hippogriffs.”

“I did not.” The boy who previously sat to the left of the bespectacled boy squeaked out. He had sandy blonde hair cut neatly around his head. His round face and round statue gave him a younger appearance than the others. His robes were odd and cut peculiarly in a way Helene had never seen before. 

“Yes, you did! He started scheming and everything. Remus and I were getting a bit worried, to be honest. Didn’t know he had such a sneaky streak.”

“Leave me out of this, James. It’s good to see you again, Sirius.”  The last boy, sitting on the opposite side of the carriage, spoke up. His accent was so thick that to Helene, it sounded more like, ‘Leav’ me out ov this Ja-ames. It’s go-o-ed to see you aga-a’n, Sirriu-us.’. However, upon looking at him to verify he hadn’t been hit by a curse, making him speak like that, Helene had to look twice to be sure of what she saw. His face, if you could even call it that, was covered in scars. They crawled around his face, covering it like vines. Puckered pink wounds, clearly new and itching. Flat, white marks stark against his pale skin. His face was disfigured, and the cicatrices on his neck, winding downwards, assured of more, hidden behind his wool jumper. Helene had to fight the urge to hide behind Regulus at the sight of the defaced boy. 

“Great to see you all too, lads. ‘ppreciate the plans to break me out, Peter. Your jumper is hideous as always, Remus. James, take your hand off my shoulder.” After greeting all his friends, Sirius slumped himself next to the scarred boy, releasing a content sigh. The boy Sirius had called James made to sit down too, just to jerk back, turn around, and stare at Helene and Regulus, who had been left dumbstruck by the scene before them. 

“Who are you?”

“Oh, right, blimey almost forgot.” Sirius waved his hand around, vaguely pointing in their direction, “You remember how I told you I had a younger brother, and he would start Hogwarts soon?” 

“For some reason, I have a hunch of where this is going.”

“Put a sock in it, Remus.” Sirius sighed, pinching his nose, “Where was I?”

“There is a boy, who looks like he drank a Polyjuice potion with your hair in it, standing before us. You were about to solve this great mystery.” 

For that, Sirius slapped Remus over the head. Helene wasn’t sure what she had expected as a response from the scarred boy, but hearty laughter wasn’t it. He had to be violently inclined in some sort of way; how else could he gotten so disfigured? Nevertheless, the boy seemed used to Sirius and his manners. 

“Anyway, here is the little toad. Oh, and that next to him is Lenny—lifelong friend, former fiancé. Say hello, Lenny, Regulus.”

Neither uttered a word, still too stunned to speak. 

The other boys, too, seemed a bit struck by Sirius’s brisk explanation. “What do you mean fiancé?” Remus asked, flabbergasted.

“More importantly, her name is Lenny? Who names their girl-child Lenny?” James looked almost a bit concerned. “Look, Lenny,” it seemed like uttering the name caused him a great deal of pain. “We can think of a better name for you. Promise. Lenny? No, that just doesn’t cut it.”

“Helene.”

“James.”

“No… My name is Helene.” She felt out of her area of expertise and didn’t know how to behave. On the one hand, she trusted Sirius not to let her near dangerous people, but on the other hand, being alone with five boys—three of whom she didn’t even know the blood statues—seemed like the kind of rebellious strategy her parents had warned her against. 

“Oh,” James looked to Sirius, then Helene, and then back to Sirius, “Now why are you telling porkies, mate?”

“I wasn’t. I call her Lenny. Have done so ever since we were in nappies.”

“Oi! I don’t want to hear about you in nappies, Sirius.”

“Well, James, I wasn’t even offering to talk more about my time in them, but now I might just do that.” 

Sirius looked to be getting prepared for a long-winded tale of his time as a toddler when, luckily, Remus interrupted them, “Would you two want to sit down? Sirius is too impolite to invite you to, and James has the attention span of a flobberworm.”

Both boys exclaimed at that. Nonetheless, the disruption worked, and their quarrel fell forgotten. At once, Peter and Sirius scootched to the side, making room on the seats. After a couple seconds of hesitation, Regulus sat down next to his brother. Limps stiff and eyes forward, not meeting anyone’s gaze. 

That left Helene standing. Not wanting to sit beside a stranger, she silently pleaded with Regulus to let her sit beside him. He must have heard her somehow because he pushed himself closer to his brother—widening the slight gap between him and the wall. It was enough for Helene, who took her seat. She was glad to sit after feeling like her knees might just give out after stepping into the compartment. 

That left two on one bench and four on the other. Peter seemed to not mind Helene not wanting to sit next to him. Instead, he reclined along the seat, letting his legs swing next to James’s. “Is anyone finally going to explain what’s going on?”

“What’s there to explain? My family is bonkers, Lenny’s family is bonkers; it was fated since the beginning.” 

Helene and Regulus both tensed up. There it was. Sirius’s inclination towards betraying his own blood. 

At the mention of his family, Regulus finally spoke up, having remained silent until then, “Maybe we should lea—”

“No, no, actually, it’s the perfect time to have this conversation with you two,” Sirius grinned, entirely at ease, nodding his head towards the two, “I don’t mean to startle you, but everything our parents have taught you is bullocks. See, half-bloods and muggleborns are proper smashing people most of the time. The best example of that, you ask? Well, look no further than these two stunning lads. Remus and Peter are as half-blooded as you can possibly be, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. 

“And as for blood traitors? Well, it just so happens that my dear mate, James, is the heir to generations of blood traitors. And look at him. Proud and proper as a Potter.” All four boys laughed at Sirius’s monologue, but Helene could feel the blood leaving her face. 

She was wrong about Sirius; he would put her in dangerous situations. Maybe they had brainwashed him so much that he forgot who she was and, therefore, felt no regret for what he was doing to her. That had to be it, and Helene felt a shudder run down her back, thinking of what they might do to her and Regulus. 

Having come to the same conclusion as Helene, Regulus took her hand and stood up, pulling her with him. “How could you betray us like that, Sirius?” The pain was interlaced in his question. Helene knew that while she was losing a best friend, Regulus was losing a brother. 

The atmosphere in the small carriage changed, and the boys stopped laughing. Sirius’s face frowned, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, only to close it again like he couldn’t think of what to say; that was new.  

“Bloody hell, you really believe all that rubbish, don’t you?” James’s tone wasn’t accusing. It seemed shocked. He couldn’t believe the two in front of him. Helene didn’t look up to corroborate her suspicion, too scared to meet his eyes—not knowing what she might find in them. 

Regulus positioned himself in front of Helene, trying to protect her. She was grateful for that. Remus, however, let out a bark of laughter upon seeing the defensive stance. Peter looked a bit hurt at the circumstances, “We won’t hurt you guys.”

A silence fell over the room. Both brothers looking at one another. A silent understanding passed between them; Helene saw it in their tense shoulders; this was it. 

It appeared like Sirius had deluded himself over the last couple of months. Hoping he could somehow get her and Regulus over to his side with a mere beckon of his hand. Regulus had hoped for the same. Hoped that his arrival at Hogwarts would be enough to extricate Sirius from his foolish ways. Neither boy would give up their truth. 

“Regulus, please.” 

Regulus’s breath quickened, and for a second, Helene feared he might give in. Then his fingers hardened around hers, and he lifted his chin. “I won’t let you ruin our lives too. Au revoir mon frère.” 

Helene and Regulus left the compartment feeling like they were leaving a piece of themselves there.

*

After walking through the train for a bit, regulus glimpsed an almost empty carriage and ushered Helene inside. The boy already sitting inside seemed vaguely familiar; one of the many faces that could be spotted mingling at balls and social happenings of the high-class. Therefore, Helene felt no sense of trepidation, sharing a compartment with him.   

The boy rose from his seat upon seeing, and recognizing, Helene and Regulus. “Good day. Pleased to meet you, I am Evan Rosier.”

 Evan Rosier; son of Vauquelin and Melisende Rosier. He had a cousin that had married into the Black family, Helene recalled. Light brown hair, dark eyes; heavy lids, giving him a tired look. His family was among the Sacred Twenty-Nine; a possible friend.

Helene gave him a tight-lipped smile, while Regulus introduced them.

After finishing the formalities, they all sat down. Rosier on one bench and Regulus and Helene sharing the other. The boys instantly broke out in excited shatter about the recent quidditch game between two teams, Helene didn’t care enough about to remember. Instead of joining in with them, she gazed outside at the landscape flying by.

A sunlit lake, sparkling, lay before the approaching train. It was a beautiful day, and Helene wished she could be outside. Feeling the warm sunrays on her skin. A breeze in her hair. Autumn hadn’t even slung its arms around the world yet, and she already missed summer. She felt free in the summer, more alive than the rest of the year. Winter made her sick, and spring and autumn scared her. Summer was her sustenance—nourishing her starving soul—and it was slipping through her fingers at this very moment.

 While Regulus and Rosier talked, and Helene dreamt, the sun made its way across the sky. Their arrival at the castle, future home for seven years, was signaled by the approaching evening.

 A prefect came around when the sun set and told them to put on their school robes. The boys dutifully left the carriage after pulling all the blinds shut. Standing guards outside the doors so that Helene was able to undress without having to worry about protecting her virtue. After putting on her robes, she knocked on the door, signaling to the boys to come in and get dressed while she waits outside.

 Standing in the train's corridor, she heard a familiar voice complaining about someone or something. Sirius and James practically strutted through the train. Their robes looking impeccable, if ruffled, finally giving them the look of two noble born heirs. Knowing she couldn’t just burst back into the compartment, and running away would make her seem foolish, she waited with bated breath, hoping they wouldn’t notice her.

 Despite the Potter heir’s glasses still being only a breeze away from the falling of his face, he was the one to spot her first. Stopping on the spot, he nudged Sirius in the side with his elbow and pointed at her. When Sirius saw her, he froze as well.

  All three looked at each other, not knowing how to continue. Helene was still hurt by Sirius and his endeavors, and while Potter was a pureblood like her, he was also a blood traitor, which made her queasy.

 She just couldn’t understand it. What would make someone sell out their own kind? The Potters used to be a respected family. Until the fifteenth century, they rivaled the Blacks and Feigrhails in pureness, and then, unexpectedly, they became mudblood sympathizers and traitors to their own breed. That swift change of alliances scared Helene more than she liked to admit.

 When she was younger, her father told her that the Potters were cursed. That a muggle stole the magic from a family member of theirs and with that infiltrated their ranks. The presence of that unearthly crook cursed the next generations, dooming them for eternity. All it took was one muggle. One drop of poison was enough to turn even the cleanest waters sullied.

 “Can we please talk, Lenny?” if she didn’t know better, Helene thought Sirius was close to begging. She hesitated, not knowing what to do. Wasn’t he still Sirius? Her Sirius?

Sirius noticed her uncertainty and took a step forward. “Lenny, please, I know this is scary and new, but you have to believe me.”

 “Believe you?”

 “Yes, believe me,” Sirius spoke with a hopeful lilt in his voice.

 “Believe what? Your- Your foolish and treacherous—”

 “No! No!”

 “—ideas that were cursed into you?” Helene became almost hysterical; she had hoped he would apologize. Instead, it was her childhood best friend, betraying everything they stood for. “Potter, he—he bewitched you! His family does that, Sirius, you know that. "

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lenny if you’d just listen.” At this point, the boy truly was begging. “Please, I will explain! I will show it to you! Your parents have lied to you, muggles are—”

“you’re being ridiculous Sirius. You need help. We can help, I can help, if you’d just come back into our ranks—"

“Helene!” Sirius had moved before her, clutching her shoulders in a tight grip. Helene instantly fell silent. She couldn’t remember the last time the boy had called her by her actual name. She glanced upward, shocked to find tears in his eyes.

“Please, Helene,” a wretched whisper, “I don’t want to lose you. Neither of you. You’re too good for them. I know you.”

Sirius had always been a troublemaker; a marauder, getting up to no good. While he was a good liar, he was a terrible actor—and Helene had never seen him look so sincere. The boy she had known since she was born—who had held and subsequently dropped her, who had pushed her into a lake once, and tripped her almost daily when they were growing up—was standing in front of her and Helene realized, that he had never lied to her.

That realization scared her more than a thousand muggles ever could.

“Let go of her.” A voice ripped through the silence. The door behind her had opened without Helene realizing and Regulus stepped out of it.

His agitation was clear to Helene, who felt it too. She doubted it was for the same reason.

Before anyone could make another move, she slipped out of Sirius’s grasp and pulled Regulus with her back into the compartment, closing the door quickly. He turned to her, looking her up and down, checking if she was okay. She could only nod, Sirius’s gaze lingering in her memory.

*

A cold gust of wind welcomed them when they got off the train. The train station of Hogsmeade was quaint and recognizably built by wizards. Red wood made up the surrounding buildings and floating land markers brought confused students to their next location. For most, that was a gravel path leading to the woods, but as a first year, another course awaited Helene.

A half giant bellowed for the first years to follow him, and while Helene wasn’t necessarily fond of the idea of following a half-breed into the darkness, it seemed like she didn’t have a choice. She took Regulus’s hand in hers, and together they walked along a narrow winded path. The path led to a lake that span at least half a kilometer, ending at the foot of a grandiose castle. Hogwarts.

 As they stepped into a boat, the castle, lit up with windows, glittered in the water. The lake’s ripples gave the impression the school greeted them with cheeky winks. When all the first years were seated in a boat, they docked from land, floating towards the warm yellow lights.

 Helene caught Regulus’s eyes and saw the lights reflecting in them. She was giddy, all the agitation from the train forgotten. It was just Regulus and her. Looking at him, she knew that whatever may come, they would have one another. That would be enough.

 After a couple of minutes, they arrived back on land. Now truly at the mercy of the enormous castle, as they had to scale a lengthy staircase, edged into the stone of the cliff, to get to the entrance.   

683 steps. That’s what the half-breed, Hagrid, had huffed out during the climb. Upon reaching the grand entrance and noticing more stairs leading to the great hall, Helene was ready to turn back. No school was worth this torment. But Regulus just pulled her forward with him, and together they scaled the last of the staircases. 

Finally, they reached two heavyset doors. The hallway they had found themselves in was lit by cressets attached to the brick walls. A cozy atmosphere filled the old building, warmed by the multiple flames’ yellow glow, despite the cold. a middle-aged woman stood there, waiting for them. She wore festive dark green robes, ornamented with ancient symbols, and wearing a hat crowned with a pheasant feather. With a furrowed brow and impatient scowl, she observed the students assembling at the top of the stairs.

Once everyone had assembled, she addressed them, her voice loud and clear. “Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall; you will address me as such. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house's common room.

‘‘The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. Now, if you’ll please follow me.”

With that, the doors to the great hall opened and Professor McGonagall turned around, striding ahead; the students following, slightly slower. Stepping over the threshold of the hall, Helene’s heart started fluttering in an uneven beat. At least 200 students sat there staring at her. Split up to four long tables—from left to right it was Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and lastly on the far right, Ravenclaw. The small different colored patches on the robes of the students giving it away.

Helene fidgeted with her fingers, looking up, hoping to get her attention away from the crowd. When she saw the ceiling, a gasp escaped her. She tugged at the sleeve of Regulus’s robes to get his attention and then pointed upwards. “Look at the sky.”

The ceiling wasn’t a ceiling at all. Well, it was, but it was see-through. Helene could see the dark night sky. Stars scattered around, blinking at her. The moon stood proud and at Last Quarter—about one-third visible.

When she looked back to Regulus, he was already watching her, lips widening into a smile. “You didn’t know about this?” Over the day, his combed hair had gotten loose, and tiny curls fell about, framing his face.

“I vaguely remember reading about it; but I could not have, in my wildest dreams, envisioned it looking like this. It’s beautiful.”

The group of children stopped a couple of meters away from a wooden stool. On the stool sat an old wrinkly hat. Professor McGonagall kept walking towards it, picking the hat up and turning towards the students. She explained what the hat was and how it would decide your house. Helene already knew about the Sorting Hat. Over the last summer, Sirius had tried his hardest to make her and Regulus believe in a crueler and more frightening task, to determine your house—but Regulus’s cousin Narcissa, who had already graduated her fourth year, had told them the truth.

 Sirius.

Helene’s good mood dimmed a bit, thinking about him. He couldn’t be telling the truth. It just wasn’t feasible. And still… a slight twinge in Helene’s stomach made it impossible to forget the pleading look in his eyes.

While Helene had been pondering Sirius, the Sorting Hat had sung a vaguely rhyming song about fate, bravery and a sheep, which Helene had no remorse about missing. Professor McGonagall took out a scroll and unrolled it, reading out the first name. 

“Sara Allori.”

A brown-skinned girl with long falling braids stepped forward. She sat down on the stool and that Sorting Hat was put on her head, falling over her eyes. After less than five seconds, the hat perked up, shouting out loudly, “Ravenclaw!” The girl got up and almost ran over to the Ravenclaw table, where she was welcomed with jovial applause.

“Regulus Black.”

Both Helene and Regulus winced at that, neither having expected to be called on so early. Helene could only wish a brief good luck before the boy walked away from her. Suddenly, she felt a sharp tuck on her robes. Surprised, she turned around; Sirius had thrust forward on the Gryffindor bench, now sitting behind her. He didn’t look at her though, his eyes were glued to his little brother. His lips were moving in what Helene made out to be a silent prayer, to whom she could only guess. 

She took his hand, hoping to give some resemblance of comfort. Regulus now sat on the stool. Perhaps it was the lighting, or maybe some feeling of prophecy that made Helene give the boy she had known since birth a second glance, but for the first time she realized how truly beautiful he was.

The hat didn’t even remain two seconds on his head, before its inevitable answer: “Slytherin!” Helene swore she heard Sirius whimper, his hand holding hers tighter. She caught Regulus’s gaze when he strode towards the applauding Slytherin table. While his grin towards her was boyishly joyful, she only managed a cautious smile. 

McGonagall prepared to read the next name, but someone suddenly pulled Helene down. Sirius had grasped her arms and tugged her on to the bench next to him, “Lenny, listen to me,” Sirius spoke with a tremor in his voice, “You don’t have to follow him. He’s… He is Regulus, he has always been more…” Helene tried to get up. She was certain this was against the rules, but Sirius wouldn’t let her. “You are not like him. You are not like that.” 

“Sirius, let me go.” 

“No! No, no, please. I can’t—I won’t lose you too. Don’t—”

“Helene Feigrhail.” Helene shot up from the bench and stumbled forwards. Her legs didn’t feel like they could support her much longer, so when she reached the stool, she unceremoniously slumped on it. Her final glimpse, prior to being blinded by the hat, was Sirius on the bench, watching. 

A voice emerged as her vision faded. “A female Feigrhail? Oh, you must be a disappointment to your parents.” It was a statement, not an insult, and the Hat’s tone wasn’t mean spirited. Still Helene flinched. “Let me guess: you have a planned path and eagerly await joining your friends in Slytherin?” 

She pictured Regulus; a fleeting wish—his company, their gardens, Sirius. 

Sirius .

Suddenly, all she could focus on were his eyes; the way he looked at her. Please. He had begged her to believe him.

Please. Please. Please. 

She scrunched her eyes together and shook her head. She longed for the past, before everything changed.

“Ah, I see,” the Hat chuckled, “you poor little girl.”

“What?”

“Hufflepuff!”

Chapter Text

During dinner, the excited chatter of students echoed through the hall. Old friends were catching up after the summer, and new friends told one another about themselves. A happy and relaxed atmosphere spread throughout the room. While tomorrow would mark the first day of school, this night was still free of the responsibility of education and no thoughts were wasted on homework, studying or exams. Candles flew above their heads, making the large hall feel homely.

The tables overflowed with food. Golden bowls held a variety of vegetables and mashed potatoes. Devilled eggs, vol-au-vents, steak, and kidney-pies were laid out on platters for the students to help themselves to. Prawn cocktails were scattered around the tables, though not touched by many. The chattering students passed around carafes filled with pumpkin juice, needing to rehydrate themselves after all the talking.

Helene sat in the middle of it all. Her plate was clean and unused. Her hands folded in her lap and although her head was down-turned, her back was straight as a pole. There was a bruise forming on her right thigh. She had pinched herself several times to confirm what she hoped to be a nightmare. She yearned for the possibility that by pinching herself, she would wake up in her bed at home; no sorting, no Sirius, no shame.

But she didn’t wake up. It had happened.

After the Hat had called out her house, a hush had fallen over the room. They knew her family; they knew of her. This wasn’t right. Helene had wanted to stay seated. She wanted to beg for a redo, certain that this time she’d do better. Instead, she got up and hesitantly walked over to the table, whose occupants now started cheering for her.

When she looked to her right, she caught Regulus’s eyes. He looked confused; a bit hurt. She looked away. That turned out to be even more complicating; Sirius smiled from ear to ear, easily out cheering the Hufflepuffs.

Helene sat down, Sirius’s cheering face still in her vision. An older boy tried to talk to her, congratulating her, but she couldn’t react. Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. What was she going to do? How would her parents react? Did that make her a traitor?

While Helene tried to calm herself down, six more people had been sorted; two Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws, one Slytherin, and another girl for Hufflepuff.

The girl had a round face, black hair, and upon sitting down, started talking at an incomprehensible speed. “Oh, bloody God, I’m nervous. My hands are shaking so bad. Just a couple days ago I was sitting at home in St Ann’s, y’know faffing around so that my Ma doesn’t make me babysit, when this posh lady marches in, and starts yakking about some magic school or something. We all thought she was nuts, ‘course, but then she goes, and pulls out this stick and did all the dishes! Like they were squeaky clean in seconds. My ma screamed. Dil threw up. She told us I had to—Oh, Ello!”

Another girl had joined the table and the black-haired girl, who Helene then found out was called Eileen Hirano, luckily spend the rest of the dinner focusing on someone else.

After the regular dishes vanished, and a variety of desserts appeared that the students were feasting on, Helene couldn’t sit still anymore. While she felt uncomfortable at the idea of breaking rules, and no one had specifically allowed them to leave the hall, she needed to escape. Helene got up and only just had enough decorum not to sprint away from all this. She opened the heavy doors only so far so that she could slip out, the door falling close behind her.

She was alone, and if she hadn’t had the pleasure of a respectable childhood, she would have screamed. With every step she took away from the hall, her breath came more erratic. She tried to run, but the attempt was doleful. After a couple of meters, she tripped, scratching her knees; her watery eyes filled with more tears. Now she was truly sobbing. On her hands and knees, she pushed herself into an alcove in the wall, hugging her legs to her chest.

Helene’s heart was beating so harshly, she could feel her body shaking in its rhythm. Her childish and pathetic behavior was apparent to her. She was better than that. She should be better than that. But as it turns out, she wasn’t even good enough to fulfill her parents’ one hope for her. What could she do now?

“Lenny?”

Helene jumped at the sudden voice. She didn’t expect anyone to follow her out; she had at least hoped so. But she couldn’t say she was surprised; it seemed like he was the only one satisfied by all this.

“Ma Lumière.” He lightly touched her knee, brushing the hair out of her face. “Qu’est ce que je peux faire pour t’aider?“

Helene stared at him blankly. He wasn’t gloating. After all the effort he put into corrupting her, he didn’t celebrate. He was cheering in the hall, she saw it, but there was no trace of it any longer. Now, gazing at him—his calm grey eyes, and honest expression—she wasn’t sure what to think.

“This… this is your fault! You did this to me!” Helene tried to sound angry, she really did. It came out as weak and tired.

Sirius just looked at her. He chewed on the left side of his bottom lip—a persistent habit from his childhood—and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“What am I going to do Sirius?”

“You’re going to meet new people. You’ll go to school way too often and be annoyingly good at it, and you will learn stuff… important stuff. Stuff that’s going to be new and confusing to you, but you will listen. And if you have any questions or fears or anything, you come to me. Or James or Remus or Peter, they’ll help you too. I’ve been there, you know, last year and I was just as scared. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“What about my parents?” Sirius hesitated. He looked down, and then back up. His brows furrowed. He took her hands in his and squeezed them tenderly.

“I wish I would know, Lenny.”

“I’m a disappointment. Why couldn’t I just do this one thing right?”

“Yeah, they’re probably disappointed in you, so what? They are your parents. They should either love you for who you are, or fuck off.”

“Sirius!”

“What, I’m right. Look, they manipulated you your entire childhood. I mean, bloody hell, we were engaged.” His eyes widened comically, “You were my property before you were even born. That’s not normal. They have forced all their believes in you. All their lies. Please, Lenny. Don’t feel bad for them.”   

Helene felt overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe Sirius, not with no proof. And right now, she was so tired she didn’t want to think about anything anymore. She wished she could just stay here, with Sirius, forever. No past or future.

But the present caught up with them. They heard a loud creaking and knew that the rest of the student body would soon walk right past them. Helene got up quickly, dusting off her robes and straightening out her hair. Sirius was still on the floor, looking up at her. “Are you going to be okay for the night?”

“Sirius, get off the floor.”

“Fair enough, mademoiselle.” Sirius stood up, stretching his limbs in an exaggerating fashion. “You see that older girl over there?” He pointed to a group of students walking in their direction. “Brunette hair, about as tall as a tree. She’s a prefect for Hufflepuff, just follow her, she’ll bring you to your dorm.”

Helene didn’t want to split up with Sirius, but what other choice did she have? Beg for him to stay? No, she had way too much pride for that; and his peculiar group of friends already joined the boy. They didn’t seem like the type to ignore something so unbecoming.

As she started to walk away, a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Don’t spend the night crying. Make friends. We will talk tomorrow, and I expect a minimum of four friends.”

"Mate, you made three friends—”

“Barely. I’m not sold on this whole friendship thing yet.”

“Exactly, so don’t be a show-off, and leave the girl alone.” Having said that, James turned to her—Sirius was busy hitting Peter over the head—and tilted his head, “I won’t call you Lenny.” Helene didn’t know how to react to that; she didn’t want him to call her Lenny, she barely wanted to talk to him at all. “I’ll think of something, don’t worry.” She didn’t worry and couldn’t think of a reason why he seemed to. Maybe it was a tactic, make her feel welcome and safe while his family curses her.

James, however, just smiled at her and turned around to leave, walking straight into Sirius. Sirius, who, after having hit Peter and shoving Remus—for some reason—now hit James too. Then he turned to her, still smiling, “Remember, you didn’t choose this. It’s just who you are.”

Helene didn’t tell him what she thought—didn’t tell him she had chosen this. She didn’t know how she had done it, but she did. She doomed herself; and regret ran through her like an untameable ocean.

*

Helene tried to blend in with the seven other first years that followed the prefect, hoping no one would notice her late arrival; it didn’t work. Instantly, Eileen and a girl with light blonde hair flocked to her side.

“There you are. I was getting worried.” Helene looked at Eileen with furrowed eyebrows. Why was everyone worrying about her? They didn’t know her. “You see, me and Panda, oh that’s Panda, by the way. Well, Pandora, but you can call her both. Anyway, we were talking with Aminah about how we are going to be roommates, and suddenly you were gone. Are you alright? Did you feel sick? You look a bit peaky.”

Between Eileen and James, Helene felt like she had entered another world. These people differed from ones she knew. It felt wrong, like they were planning something. Luckily, Helene wasn’t easy to trick. And who, in Merlin’s good graces, was Aminah?

“Hello, I’m Aminah.”

Helene gasped when a voice appeared behind her. There was another girl that had flocked to her, just this one was so silent, Helene didn’t even realize she had walked right behind her. She was almost a head smaller than Helene, with dark brown hair and big mahogany eyes. She was giving Helene a hesitate smile but did not dare to look her in the eyes.

All Helene could do was stammer out a hello and then hurry to the front of the group, hoping the strange girls wouldn’t follow her. They didn’t, and Helene could finally appreciate the ancient building they were being led through.

Hogwarts’ walls consisted entirely of dark stones. The colour should theoretically make it seem dreary and dark. But to even pretend the hallways were anything but incredible would be a lie. Hundreds, no thousands, of portraits hang everywhere. Most showcasing one, or several wizards and witches. Hogwarts was not just known for its exceptional education, but for the castle itself. The castle had collected some of the greatest wizards and witches of all time and they hung around for the students to interact with. Helene couldn’t think of a greater honor than to be memorialized. She wanted to be known and admired, loved and cared for. In her wildest fantasies, she could imagine a portrait of her hanging in the halls of Hogwarts. Greeting new students every year while they watch her in awe. 

While Helene had appreciated her surrounding, they had walked down several flights of stairs. Although those stairs were known to be tricky and mischievous, they had behaved themselves this evening, and everyone arrived safely in the dungeons. Helene knew that the Slytherins common room was located in the dungeons as well. However, they had lost any other students that weren’t Hufflepuffs. Helene figured Regulus was on the other side of the castle somewhere. Out of reach.

This hadn’t been their plan. They were going to go down the steps to the dungeons together. He would attempt to frighten her, but fail each time, since he’d been taught to respect her too much to humiliate her before others. She would explain to him the different paintings, and probably even share her embarrassing idea of immortality through art. They would enter the common room for the first time and see their new home for the next seven years. They would make friends and allies. They would laugh. They would be happy. They would be together.

The group paused and Helene stood alone, staring at the entrance of what was going to be her new home. A nook filled with barrels.

“Okay, here we are. Now, before we enter our basement, I think it’s important that you’re already a bit aware of our history. You see, the common room, created by Helga Hufflepuff, and decorated mostly by our lovely head of house, Professor Sprout, or Pomona as we are allowed to call her if we aren’t in class, is legendary. Like, literally, the other houses have created dozens of legends over time, because no one, and I mean it, no one, has entered our common room in thousands of years.” The students looked at each other confused, and a boy that stood next to Helene nudged her in the side, giggling. Helene stepped away from him. “No, wait, not no one, obviously. We enter, that means Hufflepuffs. That means no one who isn’t Hufflepuff has entered the common room in thousands of years, sorry.”

“Great job Rory, you sure you don’t want me to take over?” a boy had arrived wearing the same prefect pin as ‘Rory’. He had a wicked smirk and tousled cinnamon hair. He faced the group, but his eyes were on the other prefect.

“Oh, piss off, Diggory.” Rory laughed and shoved him towards the entrance. “Or wait actually, let’s use you as a warning.” Helene didn’t know what that meant, but the wicked smirk of Diggory had faded from his face and transported to Rory’s.

“No! C’mon, just tell them what will happen.”

“A demonstration is better than any theory ever could be.”

“Rory, no.” 

“Rory, yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, I hate you.” What was being demonstrated, Helene had no idea, but while the boy was getting out his wand, and walking towards the entrance—which seemed to be concealed behind several barrels—Helene, and most other students, cautiously took some steps back.

Diggory tapped his wand on one of the barrels several times, and then waited. Unexpectedly, the barrel spit something at him, dousing his clothes with a reeking liquid. Vinegar.

Diggory took a deep sigh, threw his arms up in the air, and turned to the laughing group of first years. “Happy now? One day it’s going to be one of you little saps to be humiliated like that.” Rory hit him on the arm for that, and then leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Helene could see the instant regret course through Rory, but either she was too proud to pull away, or she thought that a mouth full of vinegar was worth it.

When she turned back to the students, some boys were fake gagging, and someone, Helene was quite certain it was Eileen, made prolonged cooing sounds. Helene, however, was stunned at the public display of affection. While kisses on the cheek, and hand holding and other physical contact weren’t unusual for her, the intent behind it was. Rory didn’t kiss Diggory to symbolize their great friendship; or at least Helene didn’t think so… She wasn’t sure.

“I should probably get you kids inside now,” Rory said, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. “Where was I? Oh right, okay, so as you’ve just seen, intruders get doused. But don’t worry, you’ll memorise the right way to enter at some point, . It took me only a couple weeks—”

“And several vinegar showers.”

“—You’ll master it in no time—”

“Holger still doesn’t know it.”

“Will you shush! Anyway, the right barrel is barrel two, from the bottom, middle of the second row.” She pointed at a barrel that looked just like all the surrounding others. “You must tap it in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff. Like this, HElgAHUfflEpUff.” In that rhythm, Rory tapped on the right barrel five times. A kind of door appeared in the midst of the barrels. It swung open on its own, and Rory stepped back, inviting the first years to go inside.

Even though most students were still small, they had to duck a bit to fit through the door. After the door came a passageway that was not only quite narrow but also made from dirt, yet when Helene touched the wall, no grime transferred to her hand. Having walked a couple of meters, another door stopped them, but the student in the front, Eileen, gave it a shove, and it opened.

What welcomed the students when they stepped through the door was very likely the most beautiful room, Helene had ever seen. She had visited castles and estates, she had lived her entire life in a mansion, and spend her childhood running through rooms that were built to please Merlin himself; nevertheless, the room she was standing in now took her breath away.

It wasn’t luxurious. No, it was downright decrepit. Ripped or overstuffed armchairs, scattered haphazardly throughout the space, showed mended tears, clearly not magically repaired. Patches of random fabrics in various colors and patterns now covered what had originally been black and yellow fabric. The stitches were messy and mismatched.

The common room itself—or the Hufflepuff basement, as Rory had told them it was often called—was round. While the large size of the room should make it spacious, the low ceiling made it seem more compact. Which wasn’t a bad thing. It felt welcoming. In the middle of the room, in the ceiling, was a large circular window. From it, Helene could see the moon again, and a feeling of calmness spread through her. While she knew that she was underground, therefore couldn’t see the actual moon, and the window wasn’t an actual window, it still felt right.

Helene’s mother would hate it here, that much was clear. She preferred sleek furniture and monotone colours. The common room however, was a cluttered mess, full of plants—both standing and hanging—and several broad copper cauldrons. The enormous fireplace garlanded the earthy walls with a yellowish tint, and the fire crackled in the background, filling the place with a sort of melody. Over the fireplace hung a wooden mantelpiece, a badger. Someone had drawn robes, a tie and a hat on the badger, it looked ridiculous.

For the first time since the sorting, Helene felt something other than dread.

“I love yellow,” Aminah whispered, and Helene was once again surprised by the sudden arrival of the girl.

“Mate, it would be a disaster if you hated it. Bloody hell, look around, this place is brilliant. I’m speechless. What about you, Panda, yellow: yes or no?”

Pandora, who had been suspecting a red and purple plant, turned around when she was addressed. “Yellow is beautiful, but so is green, or blue, or red. I really wouldn’t have minded being chosen for either of them.”

“How ‘bout you, Helene? Yellow-hello? Or yellow-hell no?”

“What?” She hadn’t planned to answer, but the word just slipped out of her.

“Do you like this place, and all its yellowness?” Eileen was smiling at her; a full toothed grin and Helene didn’t know what to do. She knew that she couldn’t just talk to her. But the girl was speaking almost in riddles, it was ridiculous but not scary. How dangerous could she be, if at all.

“I- I think so… I mean, maybe? I don’t… I, uh” Helene’s face burned, and she wished she could sink into the floor and die. She had etiquette lessons since she was two years old. She had talked to the rudest grandmothers and came out on the other side beloved. She should be better than this. But then again, she should also be better than Hufflepuff.

Eileen, however, didn’t seem to notice Helene’s death wish. She just looked ecstatic that Helene spoke at all. It felt patronizing, and Helene hoped she would learn to dislike the girl, who was looking at her with promising eyes and a warm smile. She feared she wouldn’t.

“So, girls.” Rory had joined the group, clutching her hands in front of her, still smiling. “How ‘bout I show you your dorm? Diggory will take care of the boys.” Eileen, Pandora, and Aminah all nodded their heads. Helene looked down, hoping she wouldn’t also have to act like a zealous dog to be brought to their dorm. 

Luckily, it seemed like Rory had no problem with Helene ignoring her and just told them to follow her. Walking through the room, Helene had to be careful not to trip over someone’s books, or other random stuff. She was used to spotlessness and had been certain that house-elves could clean at Hogwarts as well. If this was the result of their cleaning, they should be disposed of. 

The group walked towards the left side of the room. Arches, supported by columns in front of the doors, crossed the room in beautiful designs, forming a pathway and separating the dorms from the rest of the basement. The doors they were walking past were circular and made from light brown wood. Rory stopped them in front of the second to last door, opened it, and waved them inside.

The dorm was, what a surprise, round. Four four-poster beds stood in a half circle, the girls’ trunks already at the foot of them. The beds were covered in thick eiderdowns, and a patchwork quilt—each different to the others, and noticeably handmade—lay folded on it. Each bed had a sunny yellow curtain, a nightstand and dresser on one side, and a work desk and chair on the other.

The floor was made of stone, but there was not just one big carpet in the middle of the room, but a small carpet next to every single bed, too. Copper lamps cast a warm light, and copper bed warmers hung next to them. There were a couple of half-circle windows, but they too had to be imitations, though Helene felt grateful for them, anyway. She couldn’t imagine not having sunlight, whether or not it was real.

All four girls had walked further into the room, the inviting nature of it too powerful to resist. Helene found her bed quite easily; her trunk was not only the finest but also the largest. Her bed was the furthest to the left, with Aminah on her right, then Eileen, and then Pandora.

The room also held a couple of plants, some standing and some hanging, a furnace, and a door between Aminah’s and Eileen’s bed, which likely led to their lavatory.

“Ladies, I believe I could get used to this,” said Eileen, while dropping herself face first on her bed. Meanwhile, Aminah began to sort through her trunk, and Pandora inspected more plants.

“Yeah, well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Rory clapped her hands and made to leave, only to turn around again. “Shit, forgot. Some important stuff: first, boys aren’t allowed inside the rooms. If one steps inside the plants will strangle them, so yeah, not worth it. They can stand in the entrance, hand you things, or even throw things inside, but once more than 50% of their bodies cross the threshold, it’s hunting season. Second, the quilts on your beds are all made by students who graduated last year. It’s a tradition to leave a handmade quill for the person who will get your bed next.” 

Helene looked at her quilts. It was a lavender purple, with patches of different red tones sewed to it. The stitches were made with mint green yarn. It was ugly. Still, she smiled at the thought of someone working to make something especially for her. She lightly caressed the quilt; it was soft and for some reason had a slight aroma of vanilla.

“Third and last, is another big Hufflepuff secret. You remember the fruit portrait we walked past in the corridor? Well, why don’t you just tickle the pear tomorrow and see what happens.”

“I beg your pardon?” Eileen’s face found its way off the bed, and she looked as if someone had insulted her. “What kind of dodgy advice is that? We won’t tickle any grapes, mate. Jesus Christ.”

“Pears.”

 “Yes, thank you Aminah, those neither.”

 Rory looked a bit taken aback, but quickly recovered. “The kitchens are behind the portrait. Sorry, should probably have told you that. Does sound a little barmy.”

 “No worries, kitchen makes up for your pervy way of speaking.”

Helene felt her mouth drop. Not even Sirius would use language like that in front of someone who was technically their superior—or at least she hoped so. Eileen, however, looked quite pleased with herself. Rory just looked bewildered. 

"Okay then… just don’t tell anyone outside of our house. It’s our secret. We can go there anytime if we’re hungry, and the house-elves will make us whatever we want. Now, good night and sleep well.” Rory started to close the door behind her, only to pop her head in again. "Oh, and my name is Lorraine, by the way, not Rory. Good night.”

Now finally alone, the room was basked in silence. At least for a couple of seconds.

 “Am I nuts, or did she just say, 'house-elves'?” while Eileen tried to sound as comical as ever, her eyes betrayed a shimmer of uncertainty.

Helene felt her heart rate pick up; there was only one reason how a witch could not know what a house-elf was. She had been hypnotized by the new surroundings, and completely forgot the gravity of her situation. But Eileen seemed so… so not dangerous. And even though her hands were clammy, Helene also felt a prick of curiosity, never having met one of them. She was certain that Pandora and Aminah were magical, considering Pandora’s interaction with the magical plants, and Aminah using a charm to unpack her trunk. She figured that if Eileen would attack her, she had the other girls on her side. If there ever was a chance to follow Sirius’ advice, it was now. 

“You’re a mudblood?”

Aminah’s trunk fell close with a loud thump and all three girls looked at Helene; Eileen confused, Pandora sad, and Aminah even with something like disgust. Helene suddenly felt very small. Why were they looking at her like that? Eileen was the thief, but Aminah—who hadn’t even dared to look Helene in the eyes before—moved in front of her, as if she was the one in need of protection.

“Don’t call her that.” Aminah’s voice was still soft, however, there was now an edge to it. An undertone that confused Helene even more. Why was she angry?

 “What did she call me?” Eileen’s voice was quieter than Aminah’s, something that Helene hadn’t thought possible.

“She called you an insult. A terrible, horrible and disgustingly racist insult.” Aminah’s soft brown eyes wouldn’t let go of her. Helene’s brows furrowed; this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They must have misunderstood her.

 “No, I didn’t. I—”

“You did,” Pandora cut in, “or, at least you asked her whether she was someone you would insult.” All three girls looked at her as if they were expecting something. Helene couldn’t understand what was going on.

“I... I don’t know what… I just…” Stammering like that was pathetic. Helene knew that, but she couldn’t stop it. She just asked a question. She did what Sirius told her to do. While being sorted into Hufflepuff was an embarrassment, and Helene felt guilty for that, she did think she could make some friends with them. While Pandora and Aminah weren’t her first choice for friends, they seemed acceptable—Eileen, with her obvious ‘muggleness’ being the odd one out.

 The girls, however, were looking at her as if she was the weird one. The one that was a danger to be around and should be treated with caution. Helene took a deep breath, tears gathering in her eyes. She looked down at her fingers, which were knotting themselves together.

 “Let’s just go to bed, alright?” Eileen sounded tired and her voice was barely louder than a whisper. Everyone agreed to that, and the next minutes were spent with some swift unpacking—Aminah helping Eileen by showing her the spell—and then getting ready for bed.

 Once the girls were all under their blankets, they wished each other good night. Except for Helene, who was hiding under her blanket, thick, hot tears rolling down her face. Clutching the fabric, she asked herself why she couldn’t just be normal. Be like her parents raised her to be. Be good enough to be accepted into Slytherin and live her life the right way.

 Perhaps this was punishment. Perhaps she deserves to suffer like this.  

Chapter Text

Just as she had expected, Regulus was waiting for her. The dark-haired boy stood next to the entrance of the Great Hall, arms folded and facing the floor. Once he heard the light clacks of Helene’s shoes, he perked up, his eyes finding hers. Helene halted across from the entryway; both looking at each other.

For a moment, Helene worried she lost Regulus. She betrayed him; hence, a division now exists. But then the boy hurried forward, taking her in his embrace. Helene hugged him back as hard as she could, and his arms too were tighter than usual.

They stood there, intertwined and chests heaving in the empty halls. It was too early for most students, but Helene knew Regulus liked to start his day at sunrise, and that he’d be waiting for her at the earliest convenience, so she woke up earlier too. Time stilled while Regulus was holding her, and Helene feared what would happen once he let go.

When he did, she felt the loss of his warmth to her bones. She refused to meet his disappointed eyes. Judging by Regulus shuffling his feet, he wasn’t keen on their conversation either. “Helena… what happened?”

She could now feel his gaze on her. He went deep into her skin, digging all the way to her heart. He was looking for her justification, trying to understand why she did what she did. He wouldn’t find the reason; Helene was starting to believe the reason was sleeping soundly in his bed, a couple of floors above them.

She had tossed and turned most of the night and came to the conclusion that it had to be because of Sirius. She saw him lonely, confused, and scared; naturally, Helene had wanted to help him. She had been his betrothed for eleven years; she was raised to submit to his every whim. The Hat observed and understood Sirius’s need for her, but it also realized that Helene was not a fit for Gryffindor. He aimed to put her on neutral grounds and, although she hoped for Ravenclaw, she was seemingly not intelligent enough. That was fine. She didn’t need to be smart. How far she was willing to go to support her (ex) fiancé showed what a good wife she’d make some day. Helene couldn’t deny the pride she felt at that.

It all made sense, and she was certain her parents would understand her reasoning.

She wasn’t sure that Regulus would.

“We should talk somewhere more private, don’t you think?”

“Helena, look at me.” She loved how he pronounced her name. The H barely audible, and an emphasis on a smooth second E. Even though both brothers came from a long noble family of French people and spend most summers at their house in the south of France—speaking French as their primary language—neither had an accent. Regardless, Regulus spoke the name Helena without a touch of English. She never knew whether or not he did that on purpose.

“Helena.” She kept her gaze down. She wanted to continue thinking about the nickname he gave her. About the way he pronounced things. About their friendship. Not the dark abyss they were standing in front of, teetering on the edge of falling. They wouldn’t fall together. Helene would tumble in the shadows, alone and scared. Drifting from her established life. She didn’t want to find out whether he would jump after her or let her fall.

She feared, she already knew.

“Come with me.” Regulus walked away from her, not turning to see if she was following him. She hasted after him. While she was still taller than Regulus, he was striding down the hallway at an unwavering speed. They marched along a couple of hallways, neither speaking nor slowing down.

Regulus seemed satisfied once they reached a door that led to the outside. The sun had just risen, and the air was hitherto heavy with a cool sogginess. He led them to a bench and, after realizing how the bench too fell victim to the damp air, he took off his robes and put them down for them to sit on.

They sat down, and Helene finally looked up. He was hurt. That much was clear. His grey eyes gleamed with uncertainty and pain. Her explanation got stuck in her throat and all she wanted to do was apologize. He didn’t have to decide anything. Helene already flung herself off the cliff. Of course, he wouldn’t follow her; she didn’t want him to follow her. Her selfish decisions weren’t on him. And they shouldn’t affect his life.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think this would happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Regulus eyes darted around her face; he was still searching. Helene sighed, wishing to avert her gaze once more. But Regulus intervened, catching her hand, his eyes fixed intently on hers. Grey clashed with green, and their shared gaze felt like the morning itself; heavy with beginnings and uncertain of what might happen.

“Are we still…,” Helene cleared her throat, scared of continuing her question. “Am I a blood traitor now?” The question was a copout and she knew it. She wasn’t asking about technical terms and political stances; she wanted to know whether she just lost her best friend.

Helene felt a wave of relief wash over her the moment Regulus shook his head, as if she could breathe freely again for the first time since the sorting ceremony. “I’m with you, forever. You know that.” He too took a deep breath, as if to steady himself for what came next. “Is it because of Sirius?” Regulus had always been too clever for his own good.

“What if he’s right?” Helene tried to whisper, but he heard her.

Regulus flinched as if she had hit him. He dropped her hand and got off the bench, stood staring at the sun for a few seconds, just to sit down again, “You don’t believe that.”

Helene didn’t. She understood her place in the world, and she knew that there were others beneath her. However, she wasn’t as convinced about the danger of them. Mudbloods and their kind weren’t allowed in Slytherin, because of the immediate threat that they posed. The pure-blooded families had to be protected, to make sure that they survived, so Salazar Slytherin build them a safe place.

But Eileen didn’t attack her. In fact, no Hufflepuff—and they had to have a full menagerie of lesser pure people—even speared her an extra glance. If what her parents had taught her was true, she wasn’t certain she would have survived the night.

“They don’t seem as dangerous.”

“They want you to think that Helena. To make you vulnerable and easier to control.” Regulus looked so much like Sirius at that moment. He sat before her, pleading for her to comprehend his perspective. She didn’t want to pick a side. She couldn’t pick a side, not when Regulus was looking at her the way he looked at Sirius the other day; with pure loss and childlike confusion.

“Let’s just ignore it, okay?” Helene grabbed his hands, clasping them. “I’m safe, and that is what’s important. Everything else doesn’t have to concern us, it’s just silly beliefs. It doesn’t affect us.”

Regulus smiled at her, and the relief she felt was infinite. It was just them, Regulus and Helene, sitting under the bright sky together. A delicate breeze ruffled their hair and somewhere a bird sang its song for the world to hear. They didn’t have to think about anything else. Their blissfully ignorant future felt like tender waves rolling onto the shore—continual and untouched.

*

The rest of the morning appeared less liberating. Regulus and Helene couldn’t sit together for breakfast, so once they got back to the Great Hall, they had to split up and go to their separate tables. While she could see that Regulus was welcomed at his table by a variety of students, both their age and older, no one was waiting to greet her at the Hufflepuffs’. Helene tried not to be bitter at that. She was good at making friends. Other peers had always respected her family and her superiority over them. It seemed like the Hufflepuffs weren’t aware of that.

While she was eating her porridge, Sirius and his group of friends strolled into the hall. Although their voices were loud, there was no animosity in their argument. Helene saw Sirius looking up, searching the Hufflepuff table with his eyes. Before he found her, she looked down at her porridge. She didn’t feel like explaining Sirius what happened between her and the girls.

Helene wished her inattention would deter him, unfortunately, it did not. After a couple of minutes, she felt something hit her shoulder and fall onto the table. It was a crumpled-up paper, undoubtedly thrown by Sirius. His whispering yells for her to open it weren’t hard to interpret.

Ma chère Lenny,

The ‘Lenny’ had been scribbled over by another coloured ink, only to be written above it again in its original colour.

It seems that even though I have given you all the guidance you could hope for, you are sitting alone. Now, do not be insulted. Perhaps you have chosen a life as a nomad out of simple choice.

I sincerely doubt that, though.

That is why we want to formally invite you to join us during lunch.

We will philosophize about your first night away, and the errors you have undoubtedly already made.

You cannot refuse our invitation, for it would be so severely impolite, your parent’s ears would start ringing all the way back home.

We are looking forward to your company.

Signed,

Starman, Dave Davies, Bond & Moe Howard

Helene didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t want to meet up with them. And while she knew the letter came from Sirius and his friends, she did not know who or what the signatures were. So, she sighed and put the letter into her satchel, hoping the boys would forget about it.

At some point during the breakfast, Professor Sprout, ‘Pomona, please’, came by to introduce herself and hand Helene her curriculum. Helene’s wish for numerous joint classes with Regulus came true. Except for History of Magic and Transfiguration, they shared every class. They also had separate flying lessons, but that was of no concern anyway, considering that Helene wouldn’t attend them.

Flying on brooms was not only a waste of time for someone like Helene, but it was also a very masculine trait. No respectable lady would zoom around on a broom. That’s why many parents of reputable daughters made sure that their child was exempt from those lessons. From what Helene had heard through whispers between Narcissa and Andromeda—both cousins of Regulus and Sirius—Dumbledore wasn’t happy with that. Nevertheless, he didn’t object, so Helene had the fortune of not having to disgrace herself by putting on trousers and fumbling around on a piece of magical wood.

After the bell rang, marking the beginning of the school day, Helene and Regulus met again and ventured down to the dungeons for their first Potions lesson together.

The Professor was called Slughorn, and he seemed awfully cheerful at the sight of the two pure-bloods. Regulus and Helene sat together, and after a quick introduction and safety briefing, they brewed a Boil Cure. Neither struggled with the subject. Therefore, they were the first to successfully finish the potion—Professor Slughorn was still singing their praises on the way out of the door.

The next class for Helene was Transfiguration and for Regulus History of Magic. So, he walked Helene to her classroom on the first floor, and then continued to his class.

Transfiguration, taught by Professor McGonagall, was more of a struggle for Helene. The Transfiguration Alphabet was complicated, and Helene had to scribble messier than she liked to follow along. Furthermore, she didn’t manage to perform the Match to a Needle spell they learned afterwards.

It didn’t help that she shared the class with the Ravenclaws, and the girl sat had sat down beside her continuously babbled about how simple the spell was. Her name was Ada Parker. She had light brown hair, blue eyes, and too many freckles to count. Helene vowed to herself to sit somewhere else for the next lesson.

When the class finally ended, Helene was exhausted. Professor McGonagall assigned them more homework than appropriate for a first day, and Helene felt frustrated by the thought of writing about a spell she couldn’t even perform.

So, when she arrived at the Great Hall, seeing four boys standing around, staring in different directions, didn’t lift her mood. Over the last couple of hours, she had forgotten the letter that now laid even more wrinkled under Magical Drafts and Potions and A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. They, however, hadn’t.

Peter was the first to notice her. He was crouching next to Sirius, tying his shoes, but upon seeing Helene, he struck the other boy on the leg. Before Sirius could hit Peter back, Remus spotted her too and closed the book he was reading. That made Sirius look up.

“There you are.” He walked towards her; arms open. “C’mon, I bet we have loads to discuss.” With that, he led her away from the Great Hall, the other boys following them.

Helene swiftly understood that he was guiding them toward the lake. On the way down, Sirius and James alternated in supplying what they called ‘advice needed for survival’. That included the best bench to sit on (the one on the left of the broom shed), the most difficult tree to climb (the obvious answer being the Whomping Willow, but both boys agreed that it doesn’t count, and the real answer is the pine tree next to the owlery), and what spot was the best to relax after a long school day (the one they were leading her to).

Helene only half listened to them. She was tired, frustrated and still a bit nervous of Remus.

In the night, she had reached another conclusion: Sirius’s friends were likely not as intimidating as she had thought. While she didn’t want to be left alone with Remus, and thought that Peter seemed a bit odd, they didn’t seem all that interested in her, either. Plus, they were half-bloods, not Mudbloods. Helene had always secretly believed that they weren’t as bad as people portrayed them. As long as those half-bloods had children with other half-bloods—or better yet, pure-blood’s—those children would end up pure-bloods as well. Well, kind of.

The group arrived at the lake, and the boys settled down under a tall oak, ‘perfect to climb, you’ll love it!’, while Helene kept standing. Sirius saw that, made a big gesture out of groaning, and took off his robe, laying it down for her to sit on.

“Oi, why have you never done that for me?” Considering Helene had met James only a day ago, she couldn’t be certain whether he was being serious; he looked to be, though.

“She’s a pure-blood girl, mate. It’s only polite.”

“Since when do you know anything about being polite? You can’t go an hour without insulting one of us,” Remus chimed in. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed, stretching his face towards the warm sun.

“I mean, that’s different. You’re my mates, she is a girl. I can’t very well go around insulting little girls, can I?”

“Three years ago, you called the dress I wore to your grandmother’s birthday hideous,” Helene spoke up for the first time.

The three other boys fell silent at once, looking at her as if she had just appeared out of nowhere. Sirius, however, started to defend himself. “It was a purple-red checked pattern. Me calling it hideous wasn’t an insult; it was a fact.”

“Regulus liked it.”

“Yeah, well, the boy has always been a bit of a pansy.” Remus, for some reason, punched Sirius for that. “And what else could he have said after I just made you cry?”

“Could have just not made her cry, mate.”

“It’s a wonder I didn’t cry seeing the dress, James.” Sirius’s voice was theatrical, and he widened his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I had to look at it the entire evening. For a while I considered stabbing the cutlery into my eyes, to bring an end to my suffering."

“Did you sit next to her?” Peter spoke up.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering whether the blood that would inevitably end up on her dress make it more or less hideous,” he deadpanned.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.” Remus looked a bit worried, while Sirius and James collapsed in laughter. Helene wanted to leave.

As if sensing her discomfort, Sirius sat back up, now looking at her with a concentrated look on his face. “Why did you sit alone this morning?” The abrupt change of conversation startled her. The other boys didn’t fare any better. All looking uncomfortable.

Helene didn’t know how to answer that. Merlin, she didn’t even know what she had done wrong. Without meaning to, her eyes filled up with tears. Sirius leaned forward, putting an arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”

“I don’t understand why they don’t like me.” Saying it out loud made Helene feel like a little child. But she couldn’t explain it any other way. They should like her, but they don’t. It made little sense. Everyone always liked her. She was polite, quiet, and prim.

“Okay… what did you do?” James cried out at that, Remus spat out a laugh, and Peter threw a twig at Sirius. But Sirius only looked at Helene. She furrowed her brows. She didn’t like how Sirius seemed to make her responsible for them not liking her.

“Nothing,” she huffed. “We barely talked. I just asked a question.”

“What question?” Sirius seemed to prepare himself for her answer with a sigh.

“I just asked whether one of my dorm mates was a Mudblood and su—"

All four boys interrupted her, exclaiming at the same time.

James chastised her. Peter seemed to be ready to throw another stick, and Remus just said, “That’s messed up.” In a tone that made Helene want to apologize to him, of all people.

Sirius, who at first had yelled too, calmed himself down and raised his hands to stop the other boys. Once everyone was quiet, he turned back to Helene. “I’m sorry. I feel like this is partially my fault. I should have told you. That word, you know the blood one, it’s a terrible one.”

Helene couldn’t believe it. Why was everyone saying that all of a sudden? She had gone her entire life saying and hearing it and no one ever complained.

“It’s not a bad word. It’s just what they are. I wasn’t even being mean; I just asked a question.” She wanted to seem sure. She knew what was real and what wasn’t. But looking at the four boys, she felt more confused than ever.

Surprisingly, it was James who answered, “It is a bad word, an insult even. See, you don’t realise it’s one, because I’m assuming everyone in your life uses it constantly.” He waited for her to nod, and then continued, “Your family doesn’t use it in a neutral, descriptive way. They don’t like Muggleborns, so they use a word to describe them, which is an insult in and of itself.”

“How is it an insult?”

“You’re describing their blood as muddy. You know, as if they have different blood, dirty blood.”

Helene opened her mouth, wanting to remind the boys that, of course, they had different blood, but Sirius interjected, “They have the same blood as we do, Lenny.”

At that, Helene had to laugh. Sure, it seems like James might have a bit of a point, but Sirius was being utterly ridiculous.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

Remus had rifled through his bag and was now holding something up. As he got closer, Helene realised it was a pocketknife. She recognized it because Sirius had found one outside Grimmauld Place a couple of years ago and ran around with it until he was sent to his room. The knowledge of what he was holding wasn’t comforting her, though.

The scared boy walking towards her with a knife was one of the many scenarios she had feared. However, before she could make up her mind on whether she should run, he sat down across from her, held out his left hand, and cut his palm. It was a shallow cut at best, but blood quickly pooled in his hand, dripping down onto the green grass.

“See, red. Your turn.” He held out the knife to her. Helene starred at him, wide-eyed. He was insane. Was that how he got all his scars? Constantly trying to show off his red blood. She looked at the others for help, but they seemed as stunned as she was.

Remus was still holding out the knife. His face was indecipherable. Helene took the knife of him, scared that if she wouldn’t, he’d swing it around like the madman he so clearly was. At that, Sirius snapped out of his shock.

“Blimey! Mate, what you do that for?”

“She doesn’t believe you guys. We can try to explain technicalities to her for hours, but if she thinks that there is an actual biological difference between us, it won’t matter. Let her see for herself that she is wrong. Better than letting her stumble her way through Hogwarts, head filled with different ideologies and prejudice.”

Sirius didn’t seem all too pleased with that. “Then let me cut my hand. We’re both pure-bloods. It’ll lead to the same conclusion.”

“No, it has to be her,” Remus said, and for once Helene agreed with him. “If it’s not her, she can continue to find excuses. You’re not just a pure-blood anymore, but also a blood traitor. For all she knows, that changes your actual blood, too.”

Remus turned to her. He didn’t look wrathful or dangerous. He simply looked at her.

Looking back, Helene saw that despite his revoltingly disfigured face, he had kind eyes.

“I won’t force you, obviously. But I also won’t be friends with someone who had the chance to change for the better and chose not to.” Sirius started to interrupt, but when Helene nodded her head at Remus, he went silent.

Helene looked at the knife, and for a moment she wondered how she ended up here. A few days prior, such a situation would have been unimaginable for her. And now she was about to cut her hand to inspect her own blood. Looking at the group of boys, she wasn’t sure if she was doing this to prove that she was right, or to recognise that she was wrong.

The hilt of the knife was a timeworn red wood. She gripped it tight and pointed the gleaming grey blade against the palm of her left hand. With one unyielding slash, Helene opened it up.

She had cut too heavy. Sirius, James and Peter all rummaged through their bags in search of something to stop the bleeding; she hardly noticed. Helene glanced at her hand, then Remus, then her hand again. He was holding his next to hers. Their blood flowed and met up where their hands faintly touched. Together, the droplets fell to the ground. Helene could not see any difference in the puddle. Her blood was his, and his blood was hers.

Their eyes met once again, and Helene had to swallow. Remus smiled back at her.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” James appeared by her side with something that looked suspiciously like a ripped-out page from a textbook. “Here, can we maybe tie this around your hand?”

“I’ll collect some leaves. Those could be helpful,” Peter supplied while crawling around the tree. Sirius seemed ready to tear apart his robes, on which Helene was still sitting, to stop the bleeding.

Remus sighed as James ran back to rip out even more pages. He reached into a pocket of his robes and fished out a handkerchief. Adrenaline was leaving her body, and Helene started to feel the sting of her cut.

Helene had been so sure Remus had to be violent. Decked out with scars, she couldn’t think of another reason. The cautious way in which he wrapped up her hand made her consider if she perhaps had misjudged him. And if that were the case, who else she had done the same to?

*

“Who are Starman, Dave Davies, Bond and Moe Howard?” The situation had calmed down after the boys saw that Helene, in fact, was not dying. Now they were sitting together, eating the sandwiches Peter had smuggled out of the Great Hall. Upon hearing the question, the boys all perked up.

“Right, here’s the thing.” James laid down his sandwich and turned to her. His face severe. “We’re all mates—best mates even—and mates should have super brilliant secret nicknames. Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, everyone knows that,” mumbles Remus, mouth full of bread. His accent making him almost indecipherable. Between bites he had told Helene that he’s from Wales, and most people struggled with understanding him at first. He said she’d get used to it.

James ignored the interruption, continuing in the same breath, “So obviously we also needed nicknames. Now the problem is that none of us are very good at coming up with nicknames. Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Lenny?”

Helene really felt like the boy’s constant judgment should insult her.

“What James is trying to say is that we have created a couple of nicknames last year and are now trying them out.” Peter had finished his sandwich and was now laying on his stomach. He had accumulated an assortment of different twigs and was trying to stack them on top of each other. “But none of them really stick. Which makes sense, considering they are all just random Muggle stuff.”

“Hey,” Sirius exclaimed, “They may be Muggle stuff, but they are not random. They have meaning.”

“Well, what are the meanings?” Helene didn’t want to admit it, but she liked the four boys. They all encapsulated what she had always admired most about Sirius. They were witty, tantalising, and loyal to a fault. If one spoke, the others would trip over themselves to follow along. It was like they could all read each other’s minds. They were so in tune.

“Well, Starman and Dave Davies both stem from Muggle music—”

“Muggles have music?”

“Oh,” Remus screeched out. He then fell backwards onto his back, kicked his legs in the air, and sat back up. Now sporting a grin so wide, Helene feared she had forgotten his disturbing side too fast. The other boys didn’t seem surprised by Remus’ behaviour. “You have so much to learn. No wonder you were stuck in your beliefs so long; if I hadn’t grown up with music, I would have gone barmy too.” Helene wasn’t sure he hadn’t.

“I have grown up with music.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You haven’t. Or at least not good music. Sirius explained to us the stuff you are subjected to. Don’t get me wrong, a bit of classical is never bad, and there are some magical bands that aren’t complete rubbish. But nothing else? That’s buzzing, that is. You poor, poor llances.”

“Oi, mate! Now you’ve gone too far,” Sirius exclaimed, offended.

“Shut your gob, Sirius.” While Remus had been very passionate a few seconds ago, he seemed a bit flustered now. “He always does that when I speak Welsh. Pretending like I cursed or something. I promise I didn’t insult you or anything.”

“Can never be too cautious with you. At the end of the day, we really don’t know what you’re bubbling about, so I just try to stay on the safe side.” Everyone ignored Sirius, and Helene turned back to Remus.

“Anyway, Sirius is ‘Starman’ because there’s this singer, David Bowie, and last April he released a song titled “Starman”. Then, during the summer, he released the entire album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. It’s banging! It’s about this bisexual, androgynous alien that comes to earth to save it from the apocalyp—”

“Mate, you’re scaring her.” James was out of bounds, but he was also spot-on. Helene was a bit scared.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Should have guessed that all that stuff would be new to you.” Remus squinted, looking her up and down. “We’ll get you there, though.”

“What Remus was trying to say is that Sirius got the nickname because we all love the song, and his name is also a star. So, he is literally a star-man. You want me to explain the rest, or can you contain yourself, Remus?”

“I can do it,” Remus grumbled, giving Peter a nasty look. “Anyway, I am Dave Davies, because he is the co-founder and lead guitarist of The Kinks, and they’re my favourite band.”

“He also once kicked over a stack of books while he was angry with Sirius. We had to give him the name after that.”

“You want to continue, James?”

James sat up straighter, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm in Remus’s tone. He ruffled his hair, pushed up his glasses, and said, “My name is Bond, James Bond.” He looked at Helene as if she should stand up, applaud. She didn’t, but that didn’t stop him. “You know, like the spy from the mo-ovies.”

“Merlin, you’re daft, man. How should she know who that is?”

“How can she not know James Bond? Everyone knows him. He’s the second-best James in all of Britain.” James furrowed his eyebrows, head bouncing around, looking at everyone.

“You didn’t know him until like five months ago.” Remus sounded genuinely baffled. “Plus, it’s called a movie, not ‘mo-ovie’.”

“Well.” James just wouldn’t stop talking. “We will just have to show them to her.”

Peter, whose mouth was hanging open, listening to his friend, couldn’t contain himself any longer, “We? You have never seen them!”

“That just proves my point. We will show the movi-ies,” He threw a confident wink in Remus’ direction, who let his head fall in his hands. “To her and to me, too.”

“I haven’t seen them either,”

“Ace! We will show James Bond to me, Helene, and Sirius.”

“But I also don’t want to see them.”

James pushed Sirius so hard, he did a backward somersault on the floor.

“No one is going to see James Bond.” Remus looked years older, stressed and tired.

“Why not?”

“How would we possibly watch a—and I’m correcting you for the last time, James—movie? We’re at Hogwarts.” That shut James up. The boy scratched his head, wrinkled his brows, and slowly started nodding.

“You’re right.” Remus looked so relieved at that; Helene wondered how much further James would have carried the argument. “We’ll just have to do it next summer. Meet up somewhere and go watch the mov-fies together. You in Helene?”

How was she supposed to answer that? She stared back at the bespectacled boy. “I…I don’t think my parents would be fine with that.” James opened his mouth, but before a word could come out, Helene continued, “Why is Peter called Moe Howard?”

“Oh, easy. He once made Mary laugh so hard, she compared him to Moe Howard—he’s a Muggle comedian. They also have the same haircut.”

A bizarre silence fell over the group. The leaves of the tree they were sitting under shook in the wind, and tiny ripples ran over the lake. Helene hesitated, unsure what to say next. She wanted to keep hearing them talk, even if she was only listening. But the boys as well sat in a kind of daze.

Sirius, of course, was the first to recover. “Did you know they named the lake after me?”

Remus, James and Peter all let out a loud groan upon hearing Sirius.

“No, no. I’m being,” Sirius looked around the group, a grin forming on his lips, “Sirius.”

Helene had grown up with Sirius, so the ‘joke’ was nothing new to her. And considering the overall reaction—Remus and Peter groaning again—it also wasn’t their first time hearing it.

James, however, had started laughing almost hysterically. “Oh man.” He was slapping his knees now. “‘Sirius’. That gets me every time.” While Remus rolled his eyes, and Peter dropped his face on the grass, Sirius looked quite pleased with himself.

Then, suddenly, the school bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch break.

“Thank God this is over.” Remus started to repack his bag, the others following his example. Once everyone was done, and Sirius had shaken all the grass off his robes, they started their way back to the castle.

Helene trailed behind them, trying to give them their space. When Remus noticed that, he slowed down too, walking next to her. “I know this was a lot for you. Well, I don’t know know it. I grew up in both worlds, so nothing can really shock me anymore. But I do know what it’s like to unexpectedly be forced to change your views on stuff you were sure you were morally correct about. It’s unfathomable and quite intimidating. But once you accept it, it gets easier.”

Sirius, who was in the process of tripping James, looked back at them. He winked once and then continued tormenting the others, barking out a laugh that reminded Helene of home. “Look, Sirius is probably the biggest arsehole I know; he is careless, loud, and can be downright cruel. But he is also a good person. That’s why he’s my best friend.” A soft smile appeared on Remus’ face. “I think you can be good, too.”

Helene looked at the boy walking beside her. At his left hand, now sporting a cut. At his skin, so full of scars. She realised that he hadn’t only had kind eyes; Remus Lupin had a kind face.

She smiled back at him.

Chapter Text

Helene’s head was so full with everything that transpired over lunch that she barely remembered her other classes at the end of the day. Regulus and she had Charms, and afterwards Defence Against the Dark Art. While she was present for both, she couldn’t even remember the names of the professors that taught those classes.

All she could think of was Remus’s blood. Her own blood. The puddle that formed of their combined blood.

Helene had tried to find a difference. Just a tiny sign; a small glimmer that her blood held and his did not. Several times throughout the day, she entertained the idea of going back down to the lake to find their blood again.

Maybe she hadn’t looked close enough?

But she didn’t even believe herself anymore. His blood was just as clean as hers. Their red blood creating a stark contrast to the green of the grass. 

Of course, Remus was only a half-blood. There was still the chance of Mudbloods (Muggleborns?) having different blood. But he was half Muggle, so his blood should be half dirty. If non-magical people’s blood was black and muddy, and magic blood was red and smooth, his should be… brown and clumpy? 

Helene sighed, pushing the peas on her plate around with a fork. Students and teachers were assembled in the Great Hall to finish the day with a lavish dinner, but she couldn’t appreciate the food. Dinner meant evening, evening meant night, and night meant going back to her dormitory. There she would come face-to-face with… well, with what she didn’t know yet. 

Either a Mudblood and two blood traitors who were planning on torturing and ruining her life. 

Or a girl she had insulted, and the two girls that stood up for her. 

Helene knew which one it would be, and her stomach twisted at the thought. She would have to apologise to Eileen—something she very rarely ever had to do. People apologised to her. That was the way things were supposed to go. If someone was beneath her, there was no reason for her to apologise. If the person was an equal, then it depended on the situation. 

She wasn’t even certain how to apologise to someone for something she wasn’t quite sure she did wrong. 

When Helene looked up and saw Sirius’s black curls shaking as he joked around, she figured he must be familiar with it. Now she only needed to figure out how to catch his attention. 

She knew what he would do; throw things, yell, crawl under the table to her; most likely all three. Those were out of the question, so the only thing left was a repeat performance. Helene felt awkward, yet what choice did she have? 

Slowly, Helene stood up, stepped over the bench, and walked out of the Great Hall. Once she was in the corridor, she walked a few paces and stopped, turned towards the door, and waited for Sirius to follow her.

A minute or so later, the door opened, and Helene smiled, only to stop abruptly upon seeing who stepped out of the Hall.

“Peter?” 

“You alright?” Peter looked just as perplexed at him standing before her as Helene. 

“I… yes, I guess.” Helene wondered how many weird interactions she could have with Sirius’s friends. However, when Peter turned around to leave, Helene stopped him. “Wait, why are you here?” 

The boy looked a bit caught off guard. “Uh, Sirius saw you walking out and wanted to know if you’re okay. He asked me to do it, because he and James were trying to see who’s stronger, and he was about to win.” 

The boy was odd. There was no way around it. He was standing in the corridor, scratching his nose, having followed her because Sirius said so. But then again, it seemed like Helene was odd too. Or at least, the people she had thought of as odd turned out to be correct. 

“How do I apologise?” 

Peter stared at Helene for a couple of seconds. “To me?” 

“Oh Merlin, should I?” It seemed like she had somehow insulted Peter too and now he thought she should apologise to him.

“I don’t know. Should you?” Peter’s eyes widened. And Helene thought it looked like he was slowly backing away.

“I… I mean I will. If you want me to.” Helene fiddled with her hands. She thought apologising would be easier. And quicker. “Do you?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Want an apology.”

“Not until you tell me why you think you should apologise to me,” Peter said, now panic clear in his voice.

Nuts! A trick question. He wanted her to say what she did 

“I…” Helene licked her lips, trying to think of something. “I did something. Or—Or… no, I said something. Maybe I did both.” She felt like that was a satisfactory answer and Helene looked up, expecting to see Peter nodding, forgiving her. Maybe even telling her what a good job she did with apologising. 

Instead, Peter stood with his mouth open; speechless.

“What’s going on?”

The voice startled Peter and Helene. Remus had joined them and neither had realised it.

“Mate, I don’t know.” Peter said, “I think she may have put a curse on me.” Relief washing over his face to see he wasn’t alone. 

“What? No, I did not.”

“Then why are you apologising?” The boy was almost screaming, and Helene wondered what had just transpired.

“Okay, stop.” Remus stepped between the two, looking back and forth between them. “What happened? Are you alright, Helene?”

“What? Is she alright?” Peter took Remus by the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back. “Look, I know we said that we’ll kind of take her under our wings, but I’m starting to think that is a bad idea. She’s mental! She did something bad and now is trying—very badly, might I add—to apologise.” Peter had whispered, but Helene stood only two meters away, so it didn’t matter.

“That’s why I asked for help.”

“Because you’re mental?”

“Because I don’t know how to apologise.” Helene didn’t think she could possibly be any clearer.

“Why are you apologising to Peter?” James had joined the group now too, and Helene didn’t think it could get much worse.

“What are you doing here, James? I thought we had decided that leaving Sirius alone is not a good idea.”

“She did something to me!”

“I don’t know why I’m apologising.”

All three had spoken up at the same time, but it seemed like James had no problem understanding them anyway. “I got bored. After Sirius lost, he got all moody. Oh, speaking off; You doin’ alright, Helene?”

Peter and Helene were both left speechless. With open mouths and wide eyes, they stared at James, who looked back so earnestly, Helene wondered how she ever saw a threat in him 

“Hey, why’d you all leave me alone?” 

That was it for both Peter and Helene. The two exchanged glances and then broke out in laughter. Helene couldn’t stop herself. She bent forward from how hard she was laughing, breaths leaving her in a staccato rhythm. She was clutching her side, trying to stay up. But looking at Peter—who fared little better—her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor. Peter following her.

“Bloody Hell! What’s going on with them?” Helene thought Sirius sounded concerned, but she couldn’t verify it, since the tears in her eyes made everything around her blurry.

“I don’t know, mate, I also just arrived. I think Peter said something about Helene being mental.”

“Well, if she’s mental, why’s he laughing too? Remus, you know anything?”

Helene’s stomach hurt from all the laughing, but every time she tried to calm herself down, she’d look to Peter, who would look at her, and then both would laugh again.

“Let’s just wait it out and ask them then,” Remus said, sitting down. Sirius and James followed his example.

Once Peter and Helene had calmed down, they too sat upright against the wall of the corridor. Helene took a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic heart.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Remus said. “Why did you leave, Helene?”

Helene, whose voice was still breathy, answered, “I hoped Sirius would follow me out.”

“I knew it. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t follow me.”

“Eh, I send Peter. That comes down to the same thing. I am Peter, and Peter is me.” Sirius grinned, seemingly very proud of himself. “Wait. Why did you want me to follow you? Is everything okay?”

Helene knew that the only thing stopping Peter and her from bursting into laughter again was the strict ignoring of the other they tried to do.

“I’m fine. I just had a question.”

“Ohhhhh… No, yeah, that makes more sense.” Peter nodded his head, blowing out a breath through his lips. Helene looked at him, nodding too. A silent agreement passed between them to never speak of what had happened again.

“Well,” Sirius said, stretching his legs out in front of him.” What did you wanna ask me?”

Helene hadn’t expected that she’d have to explain the situation to all of them. Her cheeks warmed at the idea of them all, knowing her lack of understanding when it came to apologising. However, when she looked to her left where Remus sat—knees pulled to his chest, lips twitching in a manner Helene couldn’t quite place—she figured she would have to get used to the three boys.

While Sirius was restless and changed moods more often than there are stars in the sky; he was loyal to a fault. From what Helene had observed over the last two days, these three strange, chaotic boys were his now. Perhaps it was the spoiled pure-blood side of him—or maybe he would have always ended up like this—but once something belonged to Sirius, he’d force his teeth in it and wouldn’t let go. Ever.

She sighed. “How do I apologise to them?”

It seemed like none of the boys had to think hard about who she was talking about. They were silent for a while, sitting next to each other. Their eyes were forward and eyebrows furrowed.

“When I first met Sirius and James, I didn’t like them very much.” Remus was looking down at his hands, blinking slowly. His voice was quiet, but not necessarily sad. “I thought they were loud and aggressive. It didn’t help that before I had met them, I had met two other students. They had told me that Sirius and James had been quite rude to them. So, the first night in our dormitory, Peter and I waited until they were asleep, and then made a promise to each other: We would stick together. We wouldn’t let those two tossers, whom we were forced to live with, ruin our school year. The next morning, Sirius and James noticed we tried to ignore them. And Sirius had the incredible idea of… well, asking us if we were jealous of them.

He noticed Peter and I were not as well dressed as he and James. He asked if we were poor, and that’s why we didn’t like them.” Helene looked at Sirius. His eyes were closed, and he was biting his lip. “Man, I was angry at that. I wanted to scream at him. Maybe even punch him.” James let out a slight chuckle at that, though Helene heard no humour in the gesture. “I wanted to defend my parents. To defend Peter’s parents, even though I didn’t know them. I had never been so profoundly insulted by someone who didn’t even know me.

“Peter and I just left and spend the rest of the day ignoring Sirius and James as much as we could. Then, after lunch, we were walking down this very hallway when a group of seventh year Slytherins stopped us. They started making fun of, well.” Remus looked at Helene and laughed a bit, “I—I, uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have some scars.”

Of course, she had noticed; it was the first thing she had noticed. It was the reason she had feared him. The wall became suddenly fascinating to Helene; she looked away from Remus, who sighed.

“Anyway, they started saying all this nasty stuff, mocking me and the way I look. When, unexpectedly, the one talking was blasted backwards. He flew at least three meters and fell on his butt in front of everyone. I didn’t know what happened, but when I looked back, I saw Sirius and James. And, blimey, they looked scary. I mean, they looked ridiculous as they marched forward trying to confront the Slytherins, who were almost double in size. But the pure determination in their faces was enough to make the boys scramble away. Later, of course, I learned that they weren’t terrified of these two scrawny boys, but Sirius’s family.

“But in that moment, I didn’t care why they had left. I was just glad that they were gone. All four of us walked to class together, and in the two minutes it took to get there, we somehow became best friends.” All four boys were smiling now. Despite a lack of eye contact, mirroring smiles brightened their faces; they had found one another, and Helene wondered, if maybe Sirius wasn’t the only one with sharp teeth 

“Did Sirius and James ever actually apologise?”

“No.” Remus smile, turning into a grin. “at least not with words.”

Helene felt even more confused at that. “So, am I supposed to wait until they get bullied and then step in?”

“You’re supposed to prove that you’re better than what you said,” Peter said gently. “Everyone can say they’re sorry. If you want to be their friend, you’ll have to show to them that you’re worth it; Worth the pain you already caused. When all is said and done, it’s their call. If they can’t forgive you, you’ll have to live with it. I doubt that, though.” He smiled at her, and Helene hoped that whatever kind of odd he was, she could become that way too.

“Thank you.” Helene looked between Remus and Peter. “I’m glad you guys came after me.”

James leaned over Remus and put his hand on Helene’s shoulder. “You are very welcome, Helene.” Remus shoved the boy away from them, and they all giggled.

The five children sat together, laughing, and Helene thought that no matter what happened later with the girls, she had found four friends already. The four boys silently shared this understanding.

Gradual but indisputable, Helene felt her canine teeth coming in.

*

The atmosphere in the dormitory was one of inaudible tension. Helene’s three dorm mates moved around the room in a deliberate manner. They never wavered in their strides or looked at what wasn’t in their path. If they talked, they did so quietly.

Helene knew she was the reason for that. Her roommates had basically done the same thing as Remus and Peter had done 364 nights ago. Helene felt conflicted. She still didn’t know how to properly apologise; something she realised long after she had split from the boys. And—no matter how small that part had become—she still felt like she had done nothing wrong. She didn’t do it on purpose and getting angry at that seemed to her a bit dramatic.

But Eileen hadn’t been angry. She had been hurt. Helene had said something which made Eileen feel hurt.

Helene had hurt Eileen.

Looking at Eileen, Helene thought of a squirrel she had met a few years ago. The brown, bushy-tailed thing had been jumping around the garden in which she had been sitting. Helene had put down her book and watched it.

The rest of the afternoon she spent with that squirrel. Throwing it hazelnuts from the nearby tree, watching in delight as it picked them up and ran away with them, just to come back empty-handed but ready for more. She remembered its eyes so clearly, full of life, full of intelligence, and she had been sure that it understood her. However, she had miscalculated her next throw, and the hazelnut landed with a smack right on its nose. It didn’t return after that, and Helene had been inconsolable.

In a sickening revelation, Helene recognised that she had thought less of Eileen than of the squirrel. The girl who had been nothing but welcoming and nice, who had tried to make sure that Helene was alright, even when she made a complete fool of herself.

Helene couldn’t sit still any longer. Her stomach twisted and for a second, she thought she might hurl. She looked up at Eileen, who was lying on her bed, legs leaning upwards against the wall, and realised that Helene had been the danger all along. But while she had become defensive and cruel, Eileen tried to ignore her; tried to keep the peace.

“I’m sorry, Eileen.”

Three heads snapped towards her, but Helene didn’t take her eyes off Eileen.

“Can you… I mean, can I… will you let me explain myself?”

Eileen nodded and sat up on the bed, setting her book aside. Helene could hear her heartbeat in her ears, blood rushing through her body. Blood, not unlike Eileen’s.

“I’m pure-blood, which means that… well, I—I don’t even know what that means anymore. What I thought it meant was that you were dangerous to me.” Helene had expected the girls to scoff at that, the way that Remus had, but they just kept looking at her. “I thought that your kind got magic by stealing it from people like me.”

“Why would you think that?” Eileen asked, hesitant.

“That’s all I was ever told. All the people in my life were telling me that. Every book I read acknowledged that. There was no doubt in my mind.”

“What made you change your mind?”

A ‘please’. A wound. Eileen.

“I think a bit of everything.” Helene could feel the two other pairs of eyes on her, but she couldn’t look away from the girl in front of her. “You, maybe.”

“Why would I change anything?” She whispered.

“I have this friend, Sirius. He grew up the same way I did, but somehow, he was never as sure about all this. Yesterday, he tried to explain to us how things really were. He kept trying over and over and then I was sorted into Hufflepuff, and it changed a lot. You were so nice and normal. I had thought that Mu—Muggleborns would be different—visibly evil—but you looked like a regular witch. You are a regular witch, I think—No, I know. I’m sorry.”

“This is all very new to you, right?” Helene nodded, and Eileen continued, “Well, it’s new to me too. Maybe we could help each other. I’ll help you with your stiff upper lip, and you explain to me why the paintings are trying to have a chat with me.”

“So, you forgive me?”

“No, well maybe. We’ll see, alright?”

“Alright.” Helene started to smile, and Eileen smiled back. Both girls grinning toothily at each other for several moments. There was no doubt in Helene’s mind anymore. Her parents had been mistaken; no monster could smile like Eileen.

“Who is the ‘us’ you were speaking about?” Aminah asked softly. All the animosity from last night vanished.

“My best friend and Sirius’s brother, Regulus Black.”

“And he still believes all of those things?” Pandora now joined too.

“I mean, I guess. It’s difficult.” Helene had the sudden urge to defend Regulus, although she wasn’t sure if that was what she’s supposed to do. “He isn’t a bad person. He has more compassion than anyone I know.” 

Eileen raised her eyebrows. “Just not for Muggleborns?”

Helene fell silent. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. What if they make you choose? She felt a shudder at the thought. She knew what she would choose, who she would choose. It wasn’t even a competition.

Regulus was a fragment of her she couldn’t satiate with anything else. He was holding her head; he was holding the sickle. He was in the sky above her and in the ground supporting her. Where he was cold, she was warm. She was lost in winter, and he sustained her through it—She served him all that she could give in the summer. If they thought it would eternalise them, they would consume each other whole. They would always carry a piece of the other. There would be no Regulus without Helene, and no Helene without Regulus.

Did that make her a hypocrite? That she knew the truth now but would never accept it entirely as long as Regulus was on the other side; waiting for her to join him.

The silence in the dormitory was oppressive. The truth of who they were was winding around them, cutting off their air. But they were children, and nothing mattered when you’re young. The world was yours and it would be as long as you wanted.

“Whatever. Let’s talk about more important stuff. Where are you all from?” Eileen’s question made them all breathe out. “Personally, I’m from St. Ann’s. It’s this shithole in Nottingham. Rubbish everywhere and more people than possible crammed together. Imagine my surprise going from sharing my room with my entire family to this posh palace.”

Helene thought about pointing out that Eileen still had to share a room with other people—something that was a big problem for herself before coming here—but she bit her tongue thinking of Sirius and Remus and how it would probably be the wrong thing to say.

“My Papa is originally from Japan, so he always says we should be grateful that we’re accepted anywhere after… y’know. Not that he had anything to do with that. He was already in England back then. My Ma always hits him over the head for that.”

Helene didn’t know what Eileen was talking about, but from the way the girl was skirting around it, she didn’t think she’d be thrilled sharing more.

Meow!

The girls all looked in the sound's direction, and for the first time Helene realised she had four dorm mates. A long-haired brown cat strutted from under Aminah’s bed. It stretched, and then jumped on Aminah’s bed, laying down in her lap.

“Salām, my pretty princess.” Aminah stroked through the cat's long fur, getting a satisfied purr. “You wanna meet my new friends?” Helene felt her heart flutter at that. She enjoyed being a friend to them.

Pandora and Eileen had already come closer to the cat, and when Aminah looked up at Helene, eyes welcoming, she joined them too. “This is Diba. My parents gifted her to me when I got invited to Hogwarts. They said that she’s a reminder of my ancestries.”

 “Were your ancestor’s cats?” Pandora massaged the cats’ ears. At first Diba seemed a bit disturbed by that, however she didn’t seem to mind it.

“No.” Aminah giggled, “My Baba is from Iran and my Mami is Palestinian. Both had to flee their homes because of Britain, so they were a bit gutted when it became clear that I would go to school here.”

“Why’d they have to flee?” Helene was glad that she wasn’t the only confused one this time. Pandora too had a quizzical gaze.

“It was Muggle stuff.” Aminah shrugged. “World War II stuff. Baba had to leave in the early 40s, because Britain cut off the shipments of food around the country, because they needed the infrastructure. And Mami had to flee during the Nakba in ’48. She was only ten back then and had to watch most of her family being killed before they had no other choice but to leave.” The gentle tone in Aminah’s voice was gone, and all that was left was a sadness Helene couldn’t even begin to understand. “The two of them met in England a couple of years after that and fell in love.”

The weight of Muggles’ own struggles and conflicts settled heavily in Helene’s stomach. To be honest, she had thought little of what Muggles were doing; she figured they were running around pretending to be important, while missing out on the real world. But hearing about what was actually happening, and the scale it seemed to take (World War II implies that there was a World War I and Helene wondered how she could have missed that) made her feel clammy in her own skin. If this were the magical world, she couldn’t help but think she’d be the aggressor in both stories.

“Oh, so Diba is a Persian Cat, right?” Eileen asked, smiling at Aminah.

“Well, here’s the thing.” Aminah lit up at the question, a slight sparkle returning in her eyes. “We don’t call it Persia, it’s Iran. The western people called it Persia and therefore also called the breed Persian Cats. We call them gorbe-ye barāq. And also, the cats probably don’t even actually originate from Iran. So, when my Mami bought the cat without consulting my Baba further, it didn’t end well. Well, no, that’s not true. It ended very well, for me because I got the most beautiful cat in the world. But my Baba was a bit frustrated.”

Helene wished she could have a cat, but her parents had never allowed pets other than the family owl and the koi fish. She lightly scratched Diba under her chin, and the cat stretched her head forward in response.

“What about you, Pandora and Helene?” Aminah asked.

“Oh, my family is from this little village near Whitehaven. I love the sea and twice almost drowned trying to follow some fish further in the ocean,” Pandora said, closing her eyes as if speaking of almost dying was a fond memory.

“Okay then, we’re all glad you didn’t, though.” Even Eileen looked disturbed by Pandora’s nonchalance. “And you Helene?”

“I don’t know.” Helene spoke without thinking, and the following silence made it clear that she definitely should have.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” At this point, all four girls sat together on Aminah’s bed—Diba in the middle—so there was no way for Helene to hide her face.

“I… well, I don’t know where we live. I’m pretty sure we live in England though, if that helps.” It didn’t.

“How can you not know where you live?” Eileen gasped. “Do your parents lock you up like Rapunzel?”

“No! No, I… who is Rapun—No! Of course not. I just… no one has ever told me where we live.” Helene couldn’t believe how often she had embarrassed herself in only a day.

“What happens when you travel? What do you see?” Aminah asked.

“We only ever apparate or travel via the Floo Network. Sometimes with a portkey.”

Silence engulfed the room, then Eileen opened her mouth, “We really need to get you out of that house, Rapunzel.” She said it like a joke, but her eyes squinted a bit. “I guess that explains it a bit more.” Helene didn’t have to ask what the ‘it’ was Eileen was talking about.

Was her life that peculiar? And was that a good or a bad thing?

The girls kept talking after that, though their topics were noticeably more light-hearted. They sat together on Aminah’s bed, petting Diba, while eating the snacks Pandora and Eileen had brought with them. Some normal, and some Muggle. And while Helene was hesitant at first with trying the Muggle sweets, she couldn’t deny their wonderful taste.

The light coming out of the windows became less and less, and the cressets on the wall ignited. The girls’ eyes got heavier by the minute, but no one wanted to break the moment apart. At the end, all four girls fell asleep on Aminah’s bed. Legs interwoven, and arms wrapped around one another. Dreaming of what’s to come.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days were as ordinary as they could be. 

Depending on the subject, Helene went to all her classes, sitting with Regulus or the girls. She met all her professors and started to like some (Professor Lurewick, Astronomy, and Professor Flitwick, Charms) while loathing others (Professor Grysoar, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Slughorn, Potions). 

Astronomy was the subject closest to her heart. The countless hours she had spent staring at the sky made her an instant favourite of the professor. While Eileen had afterwards jokingly

called her a teacher's pet, Helene couldn't contain her excitement in the following lessons. 

The lessons were held in the late evening, and the view of the sky out of Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower was breathtaking. Thousands—perhaps millions—of stars decorated the black night sky, turning the darkness into a sacred illustration of legends and heroes. 

Her lion was there, too; she tried to ignore him. 

Regulus wasn't as impassioned by Astronomy as Helene. 

Sitting next to one another, a star chart between them, Helene pointed at the stars on them. It was a broad star chart, not about any specific constellation, so only the most important stars were emphasised. 

"This is useless." They had been sitting in the library for at least an hour. While Helene tried to remain patient, Regulus was starting to get frustrated. 

"It's not useless. You're just irritated."

"Oh, yeah? How is it not useless? Tell me one good reason why we should have to learn the individual placements of stars," Regulus said, his voice tinted with annoyance.

Regulus hated not understanding something. He always had to know everything and succeed in it, too. He had always been like that, but it worsened after Sirius's house placement. He had to step up and take on the role of the perfect son. Which made his already strained nerves go wild. 

"Well, through the stars and the planets, we can foresee celestial events; that's important."

"For what exactly?"

"I don't know. It is, though," Helene said, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "They also look very pretty."

"So, what, we should have a subject about everything pretty? You sound ridiculous." 

Regulus didn't mean it. She knew that. She could see it in his averted gaze, his slumped shoulders. But Helene still felt a slight pang in her chest at his words. 

The two sat beside each other, not speaking or looking in each other's direction. Helene sighed, grabbed her bag, and got up. 

Regulus's hand on her arm stopped her. "I am sorry. I didn't mean it." He was looking at her now, and she saw his eyes shine with uncertainty. 

While Helene wished to ignore it as long as she could, she knew their relationship had changed. They had been ripped apart, and even though they tried to fit all their pieces back together, some were twisted now. They were still best friends, of course. That would never change. But there was a faint tension in their interactions—something nagging, whispering, complicating. 

They disregarded it. Everything was fine. 

"I know."

"I won't be so mean anymore."

"I know." Helene smiled.

Regulus smiled back at her. "You don't have to help me anymore. We should rather go outside and enjoy the sun."

While that sounded promising, Helene knew that the longer Regulus didn't learn the stars, the more convoluted it would become. "No, you have to learn this."

The boy groaned at that but didn't protest any further. They sat together, whispering voices passing between them. 

In the end, Helene was right. His shoulders relaxed as soon as Regulus understood the individual placements and their importance. 

From the second he was born, Regulus grappled for knowledge. At a soiree a couple of years ago, a slightly drunk Alphard Black—Regulus's maternal uncle—blathered about how when Regulus was first born, his eyes wouldn't open until his family members left his field of vision, and only a large bookcase remained. Naming it as a reason why Regulus felt the striving for knowledge he had his entire life. 

A couple hours later—and several drinks subsequent—he told a different version of the story. While he persisted in saying that there was a bookcase, he explained that Regulus didn't open his eyes out of curiosity for knowledge. An ignored Sirius chose that exact moment to take his first steps and straightaway crashed into the bookcase, throwing several books to the ground. The sound of the books hitting the ground startled baby Regulus, who opened his eyes to the sight of his big brother On the floor, crying. 

Alphard looked noticeably less joyful as he said that version. He looked at Helene, Regulus, and Sirius, shook his head, and sighed deeply. 

The evening ended abruptly when Alphard lost his balance and crashed into one of the tables. Helene and her parents went home, and when she lay in bed later, Helene couldn't stop thinking about the look Alphard gave the three of them, as if he knew something they didn't. 

Perhaps he did, but he just didn't want to burden them with it at their young age. 

"Well, can we go outside now?" Regulus asked, smiling at Helene.

"Sounds great." They both packed up their things and left the library. 

Walking through the hallways of Hogwarts, the familiar stillness engulfed them. While Regulus held his head high and walked straight, confidently, Helene stared at the portraits surrounding them. She tried to find something to talk about. They promised not to drift apart a couple of days ago, and now she felt that both felt obdurate around one another. 

When they turned the next corner, Helene's eyes fell on a painting she hadn't seen in person before, only having read about it. 

The Reformation 

The painter is unknown. Legends say the painting just appeared one day. Some argue it's magical, and others are convinced it was painted by a Muggle. Helene has been fascinated with it since she first read about it. 

The painting—about two meters tall and one meter wide—depicted a scene out of Ancient Egypt. The Goddesses Sekhmet, Hathor and Wadjet and the Deity Apep were portrayed in a fierce battle. The three Goddesses trying to defeat the Personification of Darkness and Disorder. Wadjet was coiled around the shoulders of Sekhmet, who held the Goddess tight to her chest. Hathor held her staff out in front of the two, her back to the viewer, face hidden in the shadows. The three Goddesses were in such close proximity that if you weren't looking closely, they might seem like one entity. Apep laid in a spiral around the three with his head held high. Tongue out, defensive, but seemingly not yet ready for the final strike. 

The background of the painting was so dark you could barely make out where the fight was supposed to take place. However, upon closer inspection, you could perceive the stone cliffs of the Duat. A lake of fire laid before them, throwing a red gleam on the scene. 

There were many interpretations of what the painting was supposed to signify. Were the Goddesses attacking Apep without sense or reason? Did Apep fight back, or did he already plan their demise by encircling them, luring the three into his trap? Or, perhaps, the Goddesses weren't fighting Apep but one another, the Deity looking on in satisfaction at their self-indulgence. 

Helene felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Helena, are you alright?" Regulus's voice was low. 

Without having realised it, Helene had stopped in front of the painting. Regulus stood behind her, his hand on her arm. Helene took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. Regulus tried to keep a neutral face, but she saw his eyebrows twitching. 

"Yes… Yes, sorry. Come on." Helene smiled and took his hand. She wanted to get away from the painting. She had been so excited to see it and now wished she hadn't. 

Helene could have sworn that out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Apep shift his head. 

*

"Okay, so why no pens?"

Helene and Eileen lay on the floor in their dorm. Helene held a piece of parchment and a quill, and Eileen had something she called a 'notebook' and a quill. The two girls had been swapping advice and information for about an hour. 

The Muggle world was a confusing mess for Helene. Their jobs seemed useless, their 'technologies' complicated, and their politics dangerous. But, worst of all, Muggles seemed advanced in a way that the magical world wasn't. Or, at least, they weren't as useless as she had been let to believe. While many things were undoubtedly much more difficult without magic, Muggles found a way to triumph over them all. 

Helene had been dizzy since Eileen had explained 'cars' to her. Eileen had only laughed at that and said something about explaining 'aeroplanes' later. 

"What is a pen?" Helene furrowed her eyebrows. She was lying on her stomach, legs crossed in the air. 

Eileen's eyes lit up at that. "Ahh, wait." She jumped up and walked to her trunk. Eileen opened it and rummaged around, throwing various pieces of clothes and some books on the floor. Suddenly, she exclaimed loudly, grabbed something, and crawled back to lie before Helene. 

"This." Eileen brandished a thin, round object in Helene's face. "Is a pen. Muggles use them to write. Here, hold it, try it out."

Helene took it, curious by this very Muggle invention. She twisted it in her hand, looking at every side of the grey item. 

"How does it work? Where is the ink?" She tentatively shook it. 

"It's inside of it. You have to press down on the top, and then the ballpoint tip comes out on the other side. That's what holds the ink."

Helene did just that and was delighted to see that it worked as Eileen had described it. She held the pen like a quill and scribbled lines on her parchment. It worked even better than quills, and Helene's eyes widened. "Wow! This is brilliant."

"You can keep it if you want; I have enough." She smiled, and Helene thanked her, putting the pen on her bedside table. "So, whadda ya think about all this? Is it still beneath you?"

"I don't know what to say. I didn't know about any of this," Helene said. She looked down at her hands, scratching the side of her nails, when suddenly, Eileen's hands caught Helene's.

"Hey, don't feel weird about it. I mean, as long as you, you know, do better now and continue to learn and work on yourself, there is nothing to be ashamed of."

Helene looked up into Eileen's dark eyes. The girl was so earnest and accepting. She had every right to dislike Helene or at least to stay away. But she didn't. In fact, she took it upon herself to help Helene recognise the lies she had been told. 

Helene switched their hands, now being the one holding Eileen's hands. "I know you don't agree with how I was raised."Eileen huffed, but Helene continued. "But I was raised to be an admirable young woman. I was taught proper etiquette in every possible matter. I speak four languages, can dance in all the classical styles, and, most importantly, I know how to be the perfect wife. I do whatever is expected of me to maintain my appearance, and I gladly submit myself to those above me. And I know you weren't raised with all these standards, but I promise I will not see you as less because of that. I will treat you the way I would a pure-blood girl."

While Helene beamed at the other girl, Eileen's smile slipped off her face. She was pursing her lips, her head tilted towards the side. If Helene hadn't known it better, she would have guessed that Eileen looked despondent. 

"Helene…," Eileen sighed. "I don't want you to treat me like a pure-blood girl. I want you to treat me like who I am; a Muggleborn. If you pretend that I am a pure-blood, you will still maintain the idea that only pure-bloods should be respected."

Wanting to retort, Helene opened her mouth. That wasn't what she had meant. She didn't mean that only pure-bloods should be respected. She just wanted to treat Eileen with the same respect she held for people with the same standing as Helene. 

Oh

Ultimately, Helene closed her mouth and nodded her head. "Okay."

"Great! Now, what was that you were talking about with this whole marriage thing? You don't actually mean that, right?"While Eileen's voice sounded light-hearted, her eyes told a different story. 

"What do you mean?" Helene asked. Eileen seemed opposed to preparing for marriage, which confused Helene. Maybe Muggles had different ways of preserving honour in girls.

"Well, are your parents really already preparing you for marriage?"

"Yes, of course. They have done so since I was born." Eileen let out a gasp, and the self-conscious feeling returned to Helene. "Why? Is that not… Do Muggles not do that?"

"I mean, they have… like a thousand years ago. I don't think that's happening anymore, or at least not with regular people."

"Oh…"

Helene's head was spinning. She could believe most of what Eileen had told her. She could believe that Muggles invented these incredible things and that they were just as complex as magical people. But Helene knew for a fact that marriage was an essential part of her future and that preparation for it was only reasonable and for her benefit. 

Her parents could have easily prevented her from gaining her current knowledge. Without it, Helene would have suffered without any understanding of how marriage is supposed to work, and it would have made her life infinitely more complex. However, her parents loved her enough to guarantee a comfortable and painless transition from being a girl into being a wife.  

"It's—It's a good thing. Really! It will help me tremendously once I am married."

"Once you're married? And when will that be? And with who?"

"Well, I hope to finish Hogwarts before getting married, but it can happen whenever my husband decides. And I don't know yet who that will be. It was planned that Sirius and I'd get married. Still, my parents called off the engagement after everything that happened with his sorting. Now they're looking for someone else." Helene bit her lip. "Which I have obviously made more difficult. My value has probably significantly decreased, so I must be satisfied with whoever accepts me."

"Value?" Eileen asked, her voice shaking. At some point during the conversation, both girls had set up. While Helene's spine was straight and her hands folded in her lap, Eileen sat leaning forward, hands in her hair. 

"Yes. I'm lucky because most of my value comes from both my looks and my good breeding—"

"Breeding?"

"I—yeah." Helene faltered. "I come from an ancient and revered line of noble people. Only the purest families would ever be considered to cross lineage. And the looks thing is obvious. They are men; they want a wife who gives them a couple of sons and can be shown off. Most pure-blood men don't want to admit it, but they want to be admired by their fellow men, and the best way to do that is to have a desirable wife."

Silence engulfed the room. Helene could feel Eileen's eyes gawking at her, and she started fidgeting again. She understood why Eileen reacted awkwardly. It did sound a bit weird said out loud, but that's just because Eileen kept interrupting and asking for clarification of certain words. Of course, they sound boorish without context. 

Helene looked up after Eileen hadn't said a word for a minute. The other girl was staring at her with an intensity so overwhelming that she had to look away. 

"Don't look at me like that." Helene got up. She wanted to get away from this conversation. From the look that Eileen gave her, that couldn't be interpreted as anything other than pity.

"You wouldn't get it. Of course, you don't get it."

"Oh, no, no, no. You don't get to do that now, Helene." Eileen stood up as well, taking a step towards Helene. "You can't throw me being a Muggleborn in my face just because you're realising that there is something wrong with the way you were raised."

The worst part was that Eileen didn't sound angry or offended. Her voice was gentle, and she held her hands out in front of her as if trying to pacify a startled animal.  

"There is nothing wrong with the way I was raised." Helene was almost yelling now. 

Over the last couple of days, she had to relearn most of her beliefs, and she did so without complaining. Helene could accept that what her parents taught her about Muggles was wrong because her parents, too, were victims of misinformation. They had lived their entire life in a culture that taught them they were superior, and no one had taken the time to show them the truth. But now, Eileen was insinuating that Helene's entire childhood had been flawed. That everything she was taught over the years was not for her benefit. 

Eileen was calling Helene's parents evil, and that wasn't true. 

"Helene, you are more than just your blood and appearance."

"No."

"No?"

"No—Well, yes, obviously. That's not what this is about."

"Yes, it is. You are a person, but you have been reduced to nothing but a future wife."

"No! That's not true. And even if so, what's so bad about being a wife. I will be a wife, and I can't wait for that. One day, I will make a man very happy, and you're just jealous because you know that you'll never be as good of a wife as me."

Suddenly, Eileen appeared right before Helene and threw her arms around her. That's when Helene realised that she was close to crying. In the arms of the other girl, she couldn't contain herself anymore. Thick, warm tears fell down her cheeks, and her breathing became irregular. The girls sank to the floor, Eileen holding Helene even closer. 

Eileen had mentioned that she had several younger siblings and how she tried comforting Helene substantiated that. She was grasping her in a tight grip, quietly whispering reassuring things. 

For now, Helene stopped questioning. She ignored everything that had happened, everything that she had been taught. Helene just wanted to stay here with Eileen. The girl smelled like strawberries, and the hair brushing against Helene's skin was soft. 

Helene felt so safe at that moment.

There was no going back. 

*

There was a dull thud as a large book fell on the table at which Helene sat. Sitting in the library trying to finish her Transfiguration homework, the girl looked up at the sudden interruption. Remus Lupin's scared face greeted her. His mouth was straight, his eyes unreadable. 

Realising that Remus wouldn't be the first to talk, Helene looked down at the book the boy had tossed on the table. It was bound with black leather, and the gold inscription read 'Great Expectations, Charles Dickens'. 

"What is this?"

"A book."

Helene got up to leave, but Remus sat on the other side of the table and gestured for her to sit down again. 

"It's a book written by a Muggle. One of the best, probably. It's very easy to read but a good start into Muggle literature."The book was at least four centimetres thick, and Helene questioned Remus's version of 'easy'. "The story is about growing up, poverty and the basic principles of good and bad. I want you to read it."

Helene furrowed her brows and opened the book. She liked to read, but she had never read a book written by Muggles. Until about two weeks ago, she didn't even think they could write books. Her curiosity was piqued, but Remus's sudden appearance confused her. 

"Why?"

Remus sighed. "You won't unlearn all your prejudice just by talking to and about Muggleborn people. You have to actually understand Muggle culture, and literature is the best way to start without leaving the school."

Helene hummed at that and slowly flicked through the pages. Then she realised what he had said. "Wait, 'start'?" She made quotation marks with her fingers. 

"Yeah, it's a start. After you finish reading it, I will give you another book. And so on and so on. While James's idea of watching James Bond was idiotic." He emphasised that, and Helene had to giggle, which made Remus smile. "He wasn't totally wrong. Even if he didn't mean it. Broken clocks and all."

Helene didn't know what clocks Remus was talking about, but she didn't want to interrupt the boy, so she made a mental note to ask the girls later.

"We should show you as many Muggle things as we can. If what Sirius says is true, you've been completely isolated from anything outside of what your family deems acceptable. So, we'll just have to familiarise you with the rest of the world."

While Helene didn't love the assumption that she had been isolated, she could see how educating herself on other cultures would be beneficial. She started nodding, and Remus's shoulders relaxed a bit. Helene wondered why Remus felt so passionate about helping her understand this new world.

"So, I was right all along, like always?"

The sudden presence of a third voice made Helene jump and her heartbeat exhilarated. She turned to the side and came face-to-face with a grinning James Potter. 

The boy leaned forward, his arms holding his weight on the table, and his head swivelled back and forth between Remus and Helene. 

"Alright, mate?" he addressed Remus. Then he looked back at Helene, the grin on his face widening into a manic contortion. "Hello… Nell."

Remus leaned back, mumbling a quick, "Oh, God."

Helene felt almost paralysed under James's jittery gaze. She wasn't sure about what the boy was talking about, but she was scared that any questions would just encourage him further. 

James—seemingly unsatisfied by the prolonged silence—leaned even more forward, wiggling his eyebrows. "You get it? Nell? You get it?"

"You're scaring her, James."

"No, I'm not. Tell him I'm not scaring you."

Helene did feel a bit scared, and it wasn't the first time that James's antics had scared her. 

A couple of days ago, during dinner, the boy stood up, got on the bench and started singing at the top of his lungs. 

And the day before that, she had heard that he had ended up in the Hospital Wing after he fell out of a tree. (Which confused Helene, considering his passionate introductions about all the perfect climbing trees.) 

James seemed satisfied by her not answering and just continued. "After I heard Sirius's atrocious nickname for you, I promised you I'd devise a better one. And, voilà, I got Nell.”

"Wait," Remus interrupted him. "You think that Nell is better than Lenny?"

"Obviously. Why? Do you actually believe that, Lenny," James made a grimace. "Is better than Nell?"

"No, I think both are stupid, and you could just call her by her actual name."

"I…" James drew out the word. "Never even thought of that. Ne—Helene, what do you think?"

Both boys now looked at her. Helene didn't know what to say. She didn't mind Sirius's nickname for her because they had known each other their entire lives. James was new and very weird. Helene had been raised with the mandate of always addressing people in the proper and formal way instilled in her. And while James was also a pure-blood, he evidently hadn't been taught that.

However, Helene had to admit that she didn't hate the nickname—or at least she didn't hate what it symbolised. It didn't escape her notice that the four friends wanted to create nicknames for each other to strengthen their friendship. 

James put actual thought into creating a nickname for her—although that must have been at least partially because something was wrong with the boy—and the gesture meant a lot to her. 

"If you want to call me that, I'm okay with it."

Remus sighed while James screamed an "Aha!" in Remus's direction. A loud shush came from somewhere behind a bookcase, and James bashfully ruffled his hair. Then James sat down next to Remus, only to focus again on Helene.

"You're twelve. Why?"

Remus let out another sigh. "He means to ask why you didn't start school last year."

"Oh." Helene herself wasn't sure. 

While she would have only turned eleven a couple days before starting Hogwarts, it was planned that she would be in the same year as Sirius—something Regulus had always been jealous of. But on her eleventh birthday, she got a letter from Albus Dumbledore, telling her she wouldn't go to school this year. There was no explanation, and her parents had been furious. They tried to go through the Ministry to enrol her. Still, ultimately, it was the headmaster's decision, and they could do nothing. Helene had conflicting feelings about it. While she was sad that she wouldn't be in the same year as Sirius, she liked being in the same year as Regulus. 

Eventually, Regulus convinced her that she would spend enough time with Sirius once they were married, so it was for the best that Regulus and she could spend the next years together. Of course, that was before Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, and the engagement was called off. And then when Helene went to school, she, too, was sorted into the wrong house and got separated from Regulus. 

Nothing went as they had planned, and Helene wondered what would have been different if she had gone to school when she should have originally—with Sirius. 

"Professor Dumbledore thought I was too young last year," Helene replied. From the looks on the boys' faces, she could see that they had hoped for a more elaborate response, but she didn't give them one. Helene wasn't sure if that was because there was no elaborate response or because she didn't know it. 

The boys accepted it, though, and started discussing what they hoped would be served for dinner. Helene should have continued with her homework, but without even realising it, she took the book Remus gave her and opened it. 

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip. 

When Helene looked up for a second, Remus and James flaunted pleased expressions. 

Chapter Text

When the green leaves on the trees began to fade, and the light summer breeze became biting, Sirius Black chose never to talk to James Potter again. 

James Potter, however, disagreed with that assertion, for he himself had already sworn to halt all forms of communication with Sirius Black. 

And it all started with one rainy day, two zealous boys, and three broken brooms. 

"We are going to be the best Quidditch players Hogwarts has ever seen!" 

Helene heard James before she saw him. She looked up from her book—still Great Expectations. When she came to Remus to give it back after finishing it, he interrogated her about it. Afterwards, he told her to reread a few chapters. Helene didn't love Remus's commanding tone, but then again, he hadn't loved her answer on whether poverty was a choice. 

When Helene saw the four boys walk around the corner of the passageway she was sitting in, she knew that her peace and quiet was over. She had chosen this spot because she figured not many people would walk by. The passageway encircled a small courtyard, with only low walls and columns hiding students from the elements, and the heavy rain sent even the pluckiest soul inside—well, most of them. 

"Oh, they are going to tell legends of us in hundreds of years." Sirius looked halfway between ridiculous and arrogant. He had changed his regular robes with clothing that covered almost his entire body. It was skin-tight, and only his arms were bare. Two thin stripes of fabric running over his shoulders, clinging to his skin. 

Sirius looked outrageous, and James—who wore the same—didn't fare much better. However, their upturned noses and usual behaviour made it almost seem normal. For a second, Helene considered whether she had missed some new robe style when she skipped this week's Witch Weekly. 

Furthermore, both boys were soaked. Water was dripping out of their hair and running down their bare arms. They had to be freezing. When all four boys noticed her and turned to walk her way, her inkling was confirmed. James's lips were turning blue, and Sirius's was shaking like a dog. The thrilled look on their faces stayed uninterrupted, though. 

"Lenny!" Sirius exclaimed. His volume was unnecessary but not unexpected. "Look at us. What do you think?"

Helene was speechless, and both Sirius and James seemed to take that as encouragement. 

"I know, right?" James bounced on the heels of his feet. "This is exclusive Muggle fashion. All the greatest sports stars wear it."

Helene would have believed him. There was no way for her to corroborate the statement, and everything she learned about Muggles made her want to believe him. However, while James was talking, she caught the look Remus and Peter threw one another. While Peter bit down on his lip to stop his grin from getting bigger, Remus turned away for a second, clearing his throat. 

"Can you believe it, Nell?"

Helene's eyes fell back on the two boys behind James. She raised her eyebrows, trying to ask them whether James and Sirius were being genuine. Remus staunchly shook his head, and Peter made fast-cutting gestures across his throat.

"No. No, I really can't believe it," Helene said, smiling as wide as she could. 

Sirius nodded his head up and down. "Your support means a lot to us, Lenny. Don't worry, we won't forget you even when we become the most famous Hogwarts students ever."

If Helene knew one thing in the world, it would be Sirius. The boy had been with her from the instant she was born and, since then, hadn't given her many moments of solitude. And after spending a lot of time with James, she realised that both boys had quite similar mannerisms. So, she knew straightaway that the large matching grins the two were sporting meant that they were dying for her to inquire about what they were talking about. 

She let out a short sigh. "Why are you two going to be so famous?"

"Oh, I am so happy you asked. You see, today is a monumental day." Sirius looked to James, and James looked back. A quick nod passed between them, and then both yelled simultaneously.

"Quidditch tryouts!"

"Tryouts for the Quidditch team!"

They stopped and looked at one another again, and James groaned.

"We'll work on that." Sirius seemed to wave the embarrassment away with his hands.

"Nonetheless, in a couple of hours, we will be proud members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Last year, we both decided not to try out, as we wanted to ensure that we would be in perfect shape when we eventually tried. We trained, and trained, and trained. Now, we're finally here. The day has come."

James sneezed in agreement. 

"And with these groovy outfits—provided to us by the two most upstanding lads I know." Sirius turned towards Remus, putting his hand on the other boy's shoulder. At that, Remus let out a noise that sounded like a mixture of exhalation, squeak, and wheeze. Remus turned away to, once again, clear his throat. "We will emerge from the tryouts victorious." 

"Speaking of," James said, sniffling. "We really should go now. It'll begin soon, and while they should, they won't wait for us."

"Good luck." Helene wasn't sure if it was luck the boys needed. Instead, some appropriate robes. 

Both Sirius and James scoffed. 

"We don't need luck. Luck is for tossers. We have talent," Sirius said. 

"And those clothes." Peters's voice was several octaves higher than usual. 

"Exactly! When you guys see us again, you will look at the newest Chaser and Beater of the Gryffindor quidditch team." 

The next time they would see Sirius and James again would be during a heavy screaming match that would later be known as 'the great grippe gripe of' 72'. 

But for now, Helene, Remus and Peter watched as James and Sirius walked away—Sirius coughing a bit. 

"That's not Muggle fashion, is it?" 

"Not directly, no," Remus answered, a gracious smile on his lips. When Helene looked at

Remus, she noticed that he, too, seemed sick. His skin was pallid, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"Well, technically, some Muggle athletes do wear those." Peter, too, seemed very pleased with himself. 

"They are going to catch their death, dressed like that." Helene didn't really believe that. In fact, she thought that all of it was exceptionally funny. Nevertheless, a part of her felt the need to at least partially defend Sirius. And, considering he was there (and seemingly now her friend), James, too. 

"Nah, don't worry. Even if, those two mitchers would love that."

"And let's be honest," Peter said. "We would save the world a lot of trouble if James and Sirius died now by freezing to death." 

"There's that," Remus agreed. He made to turn around only to stop and look back at Helene.

"You wanna come inside with us? It'll be a while before the two are done with the tryouts, and I don't fancy listening to their boasting twice because you weren't with us the first time."  

Spending time alone with two half-blooded boys really wasn't something Helene was allowed to do. But it was getting cold. And they were in school. And they had always been nice to her. And her parents didn't even know them—and if they had, they would like them too. And, well, why shouldn't she? 

"Sure."

"C'mon then. We're going to the Great Hall to play Wizard Chess." Helene got up from her spot on the wall and followed Remus and Peter as they went inside. 

"Hey, hold on," Peter said. But he didn't actually stop walking, so Helene figured it was just another expression. "What do you call Wizard Chess? Like, pure-bloods, do they also call it Wizard Chess?"

Remus also seemed interested in her answer, turning towards her and looking at her quizzically. 

"No. We just call it Chess." In fact, Helene was pretty confused when she got to Hogwarts, and everyone was calling it Wizard Chess, even the pure-bloods. However, she noted that the Slytherins seemed adamant about still only using the name Chess. 

"Huh. Who would have thought?" Peter said, throwing his arms in the air. 

Helene and Remus giggled at Peter's antics, and the trio kept walking through Hogwarts' ancient corridors towards the Great Hall. 

An hour—and two Wizard Chess games—later, the peaceful atmosphere of the Great Hall was disturbed by ear-piercing voices. The shrieking, high-pitched sounds travelled from the hallway into the Great Hall and found their way directly into the ears of Helene, Peter, and Remus. 

Identifying the owners of those voices wasn't tricky. When Remus and Peter looked at each other in realisation, Helene could have sworn she saw dread. They instantaneously started to pack up their stuff. Helene, too, stood up, ready to go wherever they would go. When the three scrambled out of the hall, Helene wasn't sure whether they were planning to look for James and Sirius or avoid them. The choice, however, was taken from them because the two obstreperous boys were right outside the entrance. 

"—hadn't lost control, I would have been fine!"

"—almost pushed me to my death!" 

They were yelling over each other, and Helene doubted they could hear the other one's arguments and claims. The boys looked horrible, and unlike an hour ago, it wasn't just because of their outfits. While Helene had been joking about their possible deaths, the two downright looked the part. Pale skin, blue lips, and dark shadows under their eyes. 

Sirius was shaking so hard that it looked like his voice reverberated through his entire body, and even though James wasn't moving anymore, he was vaguely swaying on the spot. 

"Helene," Peter whispered. He pinched the fabric of her robes and pulled her closer to him. "If you don't want to be part of the most horrible argument you will ever hear, you have to back away slowly, now." 

It seemed that wasn't the first time Peter and Remus had been through this. Remus was already pressed to the wall, backing away slowly but surely. 

Helene nodded and let Peter pull her backwards. However, before they could reach the wall, Helene tripped. She had miscalculated Peter's steps and accidentally stepped on his foot. She tried to sidestep him so as not to hurt Peter, which left her foot tangled in her robes. Peter caught her before Helene could land on the floor, but the damage was already done; James and Sirius snapped their heads towards the struggle. Their eyes found all three, and there was no stopping the inevitable. 

"Perfect! You guys are here! You can tell Sirius that he ruined everything!"

"I ruined everything? You tried to kill me!"

"You tried to kill me first!" 

Remus now stood behind Helene and Peter, his forehead creased and lips pursed. Helene looked back at the two boys behind her. "Do you think we can still run?" She whispered.

"No, we can't. Be faster next time," Remus answered, and Peter nodded in agreement. 

Sirius and James's attention snapped from bickering with one another to the trio. They stepped forward, and Helene, Remus, and Peter automatically took a step back. 

"James has turned into a total nutter, and I need your help to snap him back to reality." Sirius eyes were glassy, and his voice sounded scratchy. 

James scoffed at that—though it came out as more of a cough—and took another step forward. "You're off your trolley, Sirius. Listen, Remus—" Remus groaned. "—you are sensible; you will see what's happening here. Sirius has been consumed by jealousy because I was going to be part of the team, and he wasn't. So, he sabotaged me."

"I sabotaged you? There was no way you would be part of the team, so you tried pulling me down. Lenny—" Helene exhaled, and Remus put a consoling hand on her shoulder. "—you believe me, right? You know me. You know how sensible I am."

"You can't ask Nell." While both boys were genuinely angry, they also looked like a strong gust of wind could take them out any second. 

"And why is that?" Sirius put his hands on his hips, and Helene guessed it was less out of outrage on her behalf and more to stop them from shaking. 

"She isn't impartial. You have been coaxing her into liking you for years. I only had the last couple of weeks."

"She wouldn't prefer you over me even if you had thousands of years to sway her."

Both boys continued to bicker, but their volume had gone down drastically. It was unclear whether that was because they were starting to calm down or because their voices were fading. 

Helene didn't know what to do. They were still standing only a couple of meters away from the entrance of the Great Hall, and several students had already passed them, throwing them confused looks. She didn't like the attention they drew on themselves and, in association, her.

She wished she knew how to stop them, but even Peter and Remus seemed helpless. 

"Why are they suddenly arguing about me?" she whispered, leaning closer to the boys beside her. 

"Oh, well, Sirius didn't love that James made up a nickname for you," Peter answered. "Had this whole speech about it. Blablabla."

It made sense. Sirius had always been proprietorial and easily provoked. While he spent the last years proudly unlearning pure-blood behaviour, Helene had always suspected he hadn't yet let go of one sentiment. 

The doctrine that Helene was his.

It wasn't out of a twisted sense of romance. Helene and Sirius had confirmed several times that neither saw each other as anything but friends, and that wouldn't change; Helene knew that for a fact. 

It was just that Sirius had been promised something. He was given something, and for years, he was told that it was his. When that unexpectedly changed last year, he felt robbed. 

Helene wasn't certain that Sirius would ever accept it.  

"Oh, well, that's stupid." 

"It is, isn't it?" Remus sighed. 

But it seemed that Sirius and James had already moved on from her. They were now yelling about their respective brooms. 

"He is never going to let us on the team, now! You just had to do an absurd manoeuvre. Well, try to do an absurd manoeuvre." At this point, James had to support himself by leaning against the wall to avoid falling over. Yet, the shivers that ran through the boy every few seconds jeopardised that strategy.

"I didn't do that on purpose! But you then deliberately tried to sabotage me!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you—" Sirius cut himself off when an outburst of coughs escaped him. It sounded hoarse and painful, and his previously pale skin turned red. 

James didn't seem relieved at the halt of their argument, though. Helene thought his eyes looked more closed than open, and she seriously doubted he'd remain upright if he started shivering again. 

"I think you guys should go to the hospital wing," Helene said. Peter seemed ready to catch James if it came down to it. Remus—who himself had spent the afternoon clearing his throat and groaning a bit—looked like the symbol of health compared to James and Sirius. 

"No," James whispered and stopped for a second to sneeze. "We're fine." His voice gave out before he could finish saying 'fine'. 

"Yeah, mun, that wasn't a question," Remus said. His tone was serious, and neither boy had the strength to defend himself anymore.  

Peter stepped forward and slung his arm around James's waist. The relief was instant, and James slumped against Peter, his feet becoming more useless than not. James was a bit taller than Peter, so Peter could support him without much struggle.  

Remus took over helping Sirius. When he, too, draped his arm around Sirius, it was a bit more complicated. Remus was taller, so instead of supporting the other boy, it seemed more like carrying—or hauling. 

Helene trailed between both duos. She felt a bit useless, but neither Remus nor Peter had asked for help, so she figured they didn't need her. 

Unexpectedly, Remus stumbled a bit. Luckily, Sirius seemed more lucid than James, so he could still support himself for the most part. But when Helene looked at Remus, she wasn't sure he wasn't the one in need of the matron. 

She fell in step next to him. "Are you okay, Remus?" Helene whispered. She didn't want to embarrass him. Remus hadn't complained about his symptoms the entire day. He seemed to not want to talk about it. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it," he whispered back.

It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't actually answered her question. Still, she figured that as soon as they were in the hospital wing and the matron saw him, she'd know that he wasn't well. 

When they did arrive, they caused quite a stir. As soon as they crossed the border of the hospital wing, the matron—Madam Pomfrey—was at their side. She saw James and Sirius's state and began to fuss, ordering Remus and Peter to put the boys down on two beds. While they did that, Madame Pomfrey fetched some potions, which she then forced down the throats of the sick boys. Both spluttered and coughed and when they started to claim that the matron was trying to kill them, Helene knew they would be alright. 

Remus, however, looked paler and paler by the second. Helene hadn't asked him again if he was okay, but she wasn't confident in that decision anymore. He was leaning against the wall between James's and Sirius's beds. While the circles under his eyes suggested it was from fatigue, the way he stretched his limbs and his face twitched made it seem like he was in pain.  

Before she could probe him again, Sirius shot up in bed. 

"James ruined every chance we had at ever joining the quidditch team."

All three non-sick students groaned at that. Peter was leaning next to Remus while Helene had sat down at the end of Sirius's bed. They had all hoped the two boys would either forget the whole argument or be too drowsy to fight for at least the rest of the day. It seemed they were out of luck because James, too, shot up. 

"You started it all." While they had calmed down a lot in the last hour, their accusations were still the same. Helene knew it would return to screaming if they didn't exploit the temporary calmness. 

"What happened?" She continued before both boys could open their mouths. "don't say what you think happened. Just tell me what you did. Calmly. One after the other. Sirius, you start because it seems like it began to derail with you."

While Sirius looked offended at the idea of him being the catalyst, it appeared he liked the idea of him going first enough to not argue. At the same time, James seemed hurt at not going first but was satisfied at the acknowledgement that Sirius had started it. 

"Everything was fine at first. McColl made us fly some laps, shoot and catch some quaffels, and all that. We were doing really well, and everyone was envious of our attires. Then, McColl asked everyone to gather to play a mock game. We did that, but while I was in the air, I started to cough a little. Well, my legs were dangling, and before I knew it. My foot connected itself with something."

"My head!"

"Mate, how could I have known you were flying under me? You, on the other hand, knew that I was above you when you flew upwards to try to push me off my broom."

"I sneezed!"

At that, everyone paused. All eyes fell on James, and his cheeks turned a dark red. His arms fell into his lap, and he moved his head around as if looking for something to distract them. 

"Jesus Christ, you're telling me this all happened because you both were sick?" Peter looked to get ready to walk out of the hospital. His eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs, and he ran his hands through his hair.

Helene had realised a couple weeks ago that any interaction with all four boys (or any with either James and/or Sirius present) would leave her bewildered, and it only got worse over time. She shuddered, thinking about how they would behave once they were adults and had access to the entire world; they were only adolescents and already self-proclaimed kings. 

Then again, it seemed impossible for Helene to picture an adult version of Sirius. The boy was reckless. He had no sense of self-preservation. Sirius would easily get carried away, leaving a wake of destruction behind wherever he went. Sometimes deliberate and sometimes not. Helene dreaded what would happen once he would have to face reality. The reality is that, while he could have as much fun as he wanted during his schoolyears, afterwards, he would have to grow up to fulfil the duties he still had. 

Sirius liked to think of himself as a liberated maverick. Still, sooner or later, his parents would put a stop to his behaviour, and then there was nothing left that he could do.

At least, nothing realistic.

"But that's not all, is it?" Remus asked, his eyes narrowed. 

Sirius, too, was looking around the room, trying not to look at Remus. 

"We might have…" James mumbled, but his voice was almost too silent to hear. "Well, we, uhm…"

Helene looked at Sirius. When he looked back at her, she took his hand in hers. "Sirius?" He might have picked up on her tone if the boy wasn't still feverish. The tone she had used ever since they were children. The tone that meant that Sirius had done something wrong. A tone Sirius was all too familiar with. Most of the time. 

Sirius sighed and tried unsuccessfully to widen his grey eyes into a picture of innocence. "We tried to shove each other off our brooms. McColl intervened, and then we all crashed into one of the stands, and all our brooms broke."

When Sirius looked up, three open mouths greeted him. They were speechless, and Helene was sure that Remus and Peter felt the same way she did. Exasperated but not surprised.

Sirius and James felt the need to fill the silence because they started arguing again. However, this time, Helene wasn't listening anymore. Their words fused together and became only background noise as she let her head fall in her hands. 

Remus sighed and pushed himself off the wall. He took some steps away from both beds and then stopped in the middle of the room. There was nothing else she (or anyone) could do now for Sirius and James, but Remus was still sick. 

Helene got off the bed and walked up to Remus. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, but when her fingers touched his jumper, he recoiled as if he hadn't noticed her standing beside him. That didn't help her concerns towards him. 

"Perhaps we should ask Madame Pomfrey to have a look at you now." Helene smiled. That smile faded quickly when she saw Remus's head snap in her direction and the subsequent look on his face. 

"Could you just leave me alone? I don't need your pretend care that you only give out to make up for your disgusting beliefs," Remus snapped. 

Helene felt like someone had taken her heart and thrown it against a wall. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, and while she'd like to pretend it was because of the presence of the thick sulphur odour in the room, it wasn't the truth. His words hurt her more than she would have ever guessed. 

Remus's face fell the second he'd finished speaking, but Helene had already backed away. She had already turned around and was running away when he started to splutter. Helene could faintly hear the three other boys yelling something, but she wasn't sure whether they were shouting after her or at Remus. 

*

The orange glow of the sunset should have warmed Helene's skin. Still, a bitter chill had enveloped her ever since yesterday afternoon. Autumn was creeping towards the grounds of Hogwarts. Though it brought undeniable beauty, it also brought an all-consuming heaviness. 

At least, it brought that for Helene. 

She was born in the sun's lap, and in return, the celestial Divinity had given her its rays, weaving them in her hair, running them through her skin, and making her part of it. On sun-kissed summer days, Helene couldn't be sure if she was still solid. Perhaps the sun had taken her in fully. On those days, she floated around as if she were mere light and warmth.

Her first winter was spent in agony. The lack of her Helios made her fade away, and she was lost in the opaque. Then, another star was begotten, and Helene could breathe again. 

Ever since, she could endure the two dreaded seasons, although they still made her feel breathless. 

The coldness made her shudder, but she didn't want to get back in the castle. For the first time, Helene associated autumn with something other than the dread of what was to come.

Sitting on the shore of the Black Lake, partially hidden behind some rocks and a breeze making her hair flutter around her head, all her thoughts were consumed by Remus Lupin. 

The boy had ensnared himself in her psyche, and she had subconsciously intertwined him with her feelings about autumn. 

A half-barren scenery. 

A mellow wind. 

A mild hue. 

A bite.  

Helene wasn't angry towards Remus. She was just upset. His words sting not just because of who said them but also because of the truth they hold. While she cared about his well-being, she couldn't deny that some of her wanted his approval. She wanted him to realise the kindness she was given and praise her efforts. 

Helene tugged her knees closer to her chest, resting her chin on them. Another breeze made ripples dance across the lake, and the sound of leaves rustling filled her ears. 

The serene atmosphere was disturbed by the sound of twigs snapping behind her. It was as if the next gust whispered to her. The wind caressed her ears, and she knew who was approaching her. 

While her eyes didn't stray from the cerulean water, she knew when he was standing right behind her. Helene didn't want to disturb the silence yet, so she just wordlessly scooched over, giving him space to sit beside her. 

Remus sat down with a faint groan. 

He was looking at her, and she knew he wanted her to do the same. Helene nibbled on her lower lip and tightened her arms around her knees. She didn't want to look up yet, too scared of what she'd find in his face. 

Helene liked Remus—really liked him. When he gave her a book to read to better understand Muggle culture, she did it so that he would eventually be her friend. His jumpers were soft, and he smelled like cinnamon. There was a tranquillity surrounding Remus that made Helene want to close her eyes and succumb to it. 

A sigh escaped Helene's lips. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was facing Remus. His jumper was made of different shades of brown, and he was holding a book she didn't recognise. The colour of his clothes made the green in his eyes appear distant, the brown engulfing it. Distress clouded his features. 

"Helene," he began, furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm really sorry for what I said." 

The furrowing of his brows made his scars move. Helene couldn't decide whether he looked like the half-barren scenery surrounding them or the rippling lake before them. 

"It's alright, Remus." Helene saw that he opened his mouth and continued. "I am being honest, I promise. I was hurt by your words, but you weren't entirely wrong."

Remus shook his head. "No. No, I wasn't right. I was tired and in pain, and I wanted you to leave me alone, so I lashed out at you. That's not okay." 

Their eyes met, and the next few seconds were spent studying one another. When her eyes became glossy, Helene looked heavenward. Before he could comfort her, she held out her hand. Remus looked down at it, and he scrunched up his face. 

The cut had finished healing, and all that remained was a pink line that would soon turn white. "I didn't think it would scar. That wasn't my intention; I didn't want to do that to you." Remus sounded bothered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

"I hoped it would." Helene, too, talked in a quiet tone. She looked down at the palm of her hand. Remus put his next to her. You could still see the cut on his palm, but it was a lot fainter, and Helene knew that while hers would stay as a mark on her skin, his would vanish. 

"Why would you want a scar?" Remus didn't look up from their palms, and his voice became quieter. 

"We bled the same." Helene shrugged. She tried to seem nonchalant, but she feared how he'd react. Afraid that he would call her crazy. "I don't see it as a scar but as a reminder. A mark of loyalty, of sorts." 

"Loyalty to who?" Remus looked up. 

Helene looked back. She had the answer on the tip of her tongue but couldn't bring herself to say it. 

The corners of Remus's mouth turned up. 

"Okay." 

It felt like something heavy had lifted from her chest. 

Remus took her hand in his palm and put his other on top. His fingers were thin, long, and surprisingly calloused. The heat that radiated from his skin made Helene let out a shaky breath. 

When he eventually released her hand, the warmth stayed with her. 

"Are you guys fine?" 

Although her question was vague, Remus understood what Helene meant. "The evening ended in chaos, which at that point was my fault. They weren't exactly happy with my behaviour towards you. And Sirius and James were still barking at each other when Peter and I left," Remus trailed off, and a line appeared between his brows. It looked like he was thinking about how to continue. "Overnight I… I got sicker. When James and Sirius woke up in the morning, I was already there."

Helene paled at that. The urge to interrupt him to ask how he was doing and why he was venturing outside in the cold when he should be resting inside was strong. But she didn't. Partly because Helene tried to learn from her mistake and partially because she assumed that if she had interrupted Remus now, he wouldn't have started talking again. 

"Peter joined us once he woke up in an empty dorm. They had figured me out before I could think of what to say. I have this… illness. Had it ever since I was a child. I don't like talking about it; it's embarrassing. It gets worse from time to time, and I'm in a lot of pain when that happens. I make up stories to explain why I'm missing sometimes during these times. I say that my mother is ill or something along those lines. Anyway, they figured it out." At that point, a sob escaped Remus. The boy was shaking, and a few tears left streaks on his cheeks. Everything in Helene screamed to comfort him however she could, but she didn't. She just listened. 

"I was so scared how they would react. I never, ever wanted them to know, and I was so sure that they would leave me the second that they recognised what I am—I mean who I am with this illness. But they didn't care. I—I don't know what to do with that." Remus paused. Then he wiped the tears off his face and cleared his throat. "Anyway, all that was enough to forget about their stupid argument, so we're all back to being friends." Remus smiled, but his eyes had a peculiar, cautious look. It was as if he was analysing her. If Helene didn't know any better, she'd have guessed that he just told her a secret without meaning to. 

She just couldn't figure out what it was. Ultimately, it didn't matter, so she did the next best thing. "Can I give you a hug?"

Remus looked relieved and hesitantly opened his arms. Their hug only lasted a few moments, but Helene hoped it was enough to transfer some of his cinnamon smell onto her. "Did you know that we'd call this a cwtch in Wales?" Remus mumbled into her shoulder. "You're good at this. Giving cwtches, I mean." 

Helene couldn't contain her smile. "You, too." 

When they separated, her elbow bumped into the book in his lap. 

"Oh, almost forgot. I got your next book, if you're done with Great Expectations." He handed it to her. 

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

"It's a bit different. I… I want you to read it because…uhm. I don't even know."

The dark cover and eccentric title intrigued her. "I'll start it tonight. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Remus smiled. "Now, let's get back inside. It's getting pretty cold."

She agreed, and together, they made their way back up to the castle. 

Helene, however, didn't feel the cold Remus was talking about. It was autumn, and for the first time, warmth tinged in it. 

Chapter Text

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Eleven years old. 137 cm tall. A lack of childish fat giving him a small frame and an angular face. Raven dark hair in stark contrast to his pallid skin. Deep grey eyes reflecting everything they catch. He had a sprinkling of freckles on his left shoulder, and two moles on his back.

Regulus loved literature, clouds, pears, and organza.

Regulus hated newspapers, fog, raspberries, and tweed.

If he had to decide between never stepping outside again, or never speaking again, he'd happily take the quiet. But if he had to decide between staying or leaving, he'd always pick to remain.

Needless to say, that Helene knew Regulus. She knew about the diary he hid from his older brother. She knew about the shirt he hid in his closet from his mother because he spilled ink on it. She knew about his desire to one day write a novel on his own.

Helene knew all his secrets.

Ever since Regulus was a toddler, he was a dreadful liar. If he tried to lie to his parents, his cheeks would turn rosy. If he tried to lie to Sirius, he would stutter.

The one time he tried to deceive Helene after he stole a book out of her room, he started to cough so severely, tears were spilling down his cheeks. Helene—seven years old and suddenly aware of the huge age gap between her and Regulus; the poise it gave her—teased him for it. She sang about how Regulus couldn't bring his own body to lie to her. Sirius—newly eight years old and therefore the most erudite one—later continued mocking Regulus for it. He stated that the younger boy should learn how to lie properly, or any future romantic situation would be ill-fated. ("See, Reggie, Lenny doesn't know when I lie. If I wanted to, I could only speak in fabrications, and she'd never know. That's what makes her the perfect bride for me.")

Regulus looked even more conflicted at that. He turned to Helene, his eyes wide and perplexed. She waved him off. There was no need for her to feel offended by Sirius's bragging; while it might be true that the boy could lie to her, he wouldn't. While Sirius might tell a fib, or try to convince her of some outlandish tale, an actual lie would never cross his lips in conversation with her.

The two brothers and the girl had made a pact that day. They would never share lies among themselves. Sirius could equivocate. Regulus could mumble. Helene could avoid. But they wouldn't lie.

They defined a lie by three characteristics; one from each of them.

Perfidy (Sirius). Dissension (Regulus). Anguish (Helene).

If the thing said or not said would derive from or lead to one or more of those, it was a lie.  

So, when Regulus turned to Helene and told her that he was keen to meet her friends, his throat was clear, and his voice didn't waver. Even though there was not a modicum of truth to that assertion.

It was a couple of days after Halloween. The school-year was in full force, and all the first-years felt as if they already spend all their life at Hogwarts.

Helene had fallen into a pleasant routine. During the week she'd eat all her meals at the Hufflepuff table with her dorm mates, and on weekends—when Hogwarts students were allowed to mingle between tables—she would sometimes switch to the Gryffindor table to sit with Sirius and his flock, or they would come to the Hufflepuff table to sit with Helene and her friends.

(It had taken a while to convince James that eating a couple of meals at a different table wouldn't be a betrayal to his ancestors. Peter and Remus had recently explained what that 'hell' was that they would mention from time to time, and since then, James had been obsessed with the idea. It had taken all afternoon for Peter and Remus to explain that James's ancestors had no authority to send him to 'hell', nor did the two boys actually believe in its existence.)

Classes were likewise organised. If Regulus was in her class, Helene would sit with him. In History of Magic, she sat next to Aminah, and in Transfiguration next to Eileen. Regulus would walk with her through the halls between classes, but when her other friends joined, he'd politely excuse himself.

The afternoons after classes she met up with Regulus in the library to do homework, and after that she would either spend more time with him or be whipped away by the boys or the girls.

During the times where Sirius was present to steal her away, Regulus would linger around for a while, though he never left the library with them, no matter how much Helene begged.

On Saturdays Sirius—and James, if he felt like it that day—would help her with Transfiguration; while Helene struggled with it quite a bit, the two boys were naturals. And on Sundays, she'd meet up with Remus for what he called 'mind meld'. There they would discuss whatever book Helene was currently reading, or he'd answer some of her questions about Muggles. Occasionally, Peter would join them.

The evenings she spent with her dorm mates who had coaxed her into hanging out with other Hufflepuffs, too. It had become apparent early on that for the Hufflepuffs, they weren't just a house, but a family. During the day and until bedtime, the dorms were more or less empty, all the students choosing to spend their time in the common room.

The Hufflepuffs didn't care about what year someone was in; as long as they wore a yellow tie, any student was welcome to join in any activity going on. They swabbed clothes, shared homework, and freely gave out advice.

While that created a welcoming and safe atmosphere, it could also become overwhelming. Not just for the students but for their headteacher too. One evening all 73 Hufflepuffs had gathered in the common room because not only was it the birthday of two students, but a fifth-year girl had been dumped by her boyfriend just for him to make out with her best friend the same day.

The common room was alight with yelling, singing, cursing, and some dancing—though no one was certain whether that was because of the birthdays or the dumping. Around midnight their headteacher Pomona interrupted them and ordered all of them to bed. They all groaned and complained. When one student yelled "Hufflepuffs of the world, unite!" most of the older students laughed, and Pomona threatened to hex all their ties red if they weren't in their dorms in the next five minutes. The next evening a group of seventh-years created a banner saying 'From each Hufflepuff according to his ability, to each Hufflepuff according to his needs'. When Pomona saw it, she just shook her head and walked away. The banner, however, stayed up, although Helene did not know what it meant.

All in all, Helene felt at ease. Any leftover fears concerning Muggleborns had slowly but surely disappeared over the weeks, and even the grief she had due to not being sorted into Slytherin had faded for the most part. She liked her house, and she liked its students. She really liked her new friends.

That's why Helene decided that Regulus should get the privilege of getting to know them. And Regulus had decided that he wanted her to meet his new friends, too. They struck a deal and now Helene was on her way to the Black Lake, dragging Regulus by his hand with her.

"Helena, slow down. You're going to trip." Regulus tried to sound annoyed, but his voice never could sound harsher than the slightly agitated around her.

It was a Saturday and while November brought a harsh chill, on that day the sun still provided some warmth. Helene had changed out of her uniform—though Eileen kept insisting that changing out of uniform only to put on another pair of skirts and blouses was useless—and her hair was falling freely around her shoulders. Pandora said that she wanted to try braiding flowers into their hair, and Helene felt bubbly at the idea. She held Regulus's hand securely in hers and the boy had to match her quick pace as to not stumble.

"Come on!"

"I am, Helena," Regulus laughed.

While Regulus seemed calm at the prospect of meeting Helene's dorm mates, Helene felt like her stomach was in knots. Since yesterday, when Regulus and she decided to do this, her nerves had been strained. He wasn't just going to meet her new friends; he was going to meet a new version of Helene.

In two short months, the three girls had taken over Helene. They had changed her beliefs, they had changed her routines, they were trying to change her clothes—although Helene adamantly objected to that, and when Eileen tried to put a pair of pants on Helene while she slept, she had hexed the other girls' eyebrows off. (After a minute, Helene felt guilty enough to hex them back.)

Helene had got used to, and even charmed by, the rather extroverted behaviour of her friends. She feared how Regulus would react to it, and even more, she feared how Regulus would react to their blood status. He knew, obviously, but he had never interacted with them, and Helene could think of a million ways that the meeting could go wrong.

And while it was a selfish thought, Helene feared the outcome of the worst-case scenario. If Regulus reacted poorly to them, insulted them, degraded them. If that would lead to both sides demanding of her to cut the other off.

Helene knew—she knew—her answer.

It hadn't yet changed, and she doubted it ever would. But it had become so much more than she thought it would be a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't only about friendships and loyalty to a group of people she barely knew anymore. Helene had accepted that she had been wrong about her beliefs, and subsequently adopted new ones. These new beliefs were now tied to her. Remus and Eileen had filled her brain with it, and both the girls and the boys had filled her heart with it.

If she now had to give up these beliefs—which she would do if he asked it of her—it would feel like abandoning a part of her soul. An unknown part. A young and curious part that had been carefully nurtured and fed to one day reach its full potential. A part that she now got to explore, and learn from so, so, much more than she ever knew possible.

Except, while abandoning her new believes would feel like losing a part of her soul; leaving Regulus would be losing all of it.

It had scared her when she realised just how much she would give up for him. And it had scared her even more when she realised how much he already kept of her. The only thing that calmed her down was the knowledge that this possessionwent both ways. Helene held Regulus's soul in her hands and would never let go of it. It would have to be clawed out of her dead still hands while she laid in her grave. And even then, Helene doubted anyone would be able to reach it.

It had calmed her enough to get through the day. But when she lied in bed at night, a sudden, quiet voice whispered to her a shattering question; would he give it all up for her?

Helene knew—she knew—his answer.

And it wasn't because he loved her less than she loved him.

It was that he believed in his truth more than he believed in hers.

And if it were the other way around—if Regulus had been sorted into a different house, someone had challenged and proven him wrong, and Helene had never seen the truth—she would behave the same. Or at least, that's what she feared.

Helene and Regulus had always bonded over their shared lack of courage. While Sirius would climb trees, fight creatures in the woods, or even defy their parents, Helene and Regulus had only ever watched from the side.

Helene hadn't changed her views because she got the courage to look beyond what she knew. No, they forced her into those views. Helene stood by while the surrounding people helped her to change. Regulus didn't have that. No one ever required him to think outside of what his parents taught him. Sirius tried in his way, but both brothers were too stubborn and emotionally driven to have an actual conversation.

When Helene looked down at their shared hands, she felt affirmed in what she was doing. She was going to teach him. She was going to prove him wrong and then help him settle. Helene would save Regulus, and the first step was to show him the mistaken beliefs of his parents.

Helene wouldn't lose Regulus. Not now, not ever. And especially not over something as mundane as ideologies.

Suddenly, Helene did stumble, but not due to her own walk, but because Regulus had stopped in his tracks. He began rifling through his pocket, and when he didn't find what he was looking for, he let go of her hand to search in the other pocket with his right hand.

Helene looked at him, waiting for Regulus to explain why he was doing what he was doing. Then his hand stilled, and his eyes found hers, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "I've got something for you."

Helene started smiling as well. She remembered when they were younger and would collect rocks and other objects around the lake behind the Feigrhail estate. Regulus would always proudly show off his most treasured finding, boast about it a bit, and then eventually gift it to Helene. Subsequently, she had a windowsill decked out with various stones, dried flowers, some pretty twigs, and something that Regulus swears up-and-down is a jewel. (When Sirius got back from Hogwarts, one of the first things he did was explain to Helene and Regulus that the 'jewel' wasn't a jewel at all, but a Muggle thing called plastic. Regulus didn't speak to Sirius for three days and spend the time trying to convince Helene that Sirius was wrong.)

"Here." Regulus pulled his hand out of his pocket. In it, he held a dandelion. "I got bored in Transfiguration because I had already mastered the match-to-needle spell, so Professor McGonagall showed me how to turn my match into a dandelion."

Helene reached out and Regulus laid the flower into the palm of her hand. The petals of the dandelion were a bright yellow, and the stem slightly curved and green.

"Thank you." Helene and Regulus stood still for a second, beaming at one another. "Let's go," she said and once again took his hand, tugging him with her.

Their hands were dangling between them as they strolled across the grounds of Hogwarts. Soon they got close enough to see Helene's friends in the distance, sitting on a blanket on the ground.

This time it was Helene who halted. Regulus turned to look at her, but she could only stare ahead. Helene's heart was fluttering in her chest, her throat dry. She considered just turning around, walking away. None of the girls had seen her yet, and there was no doubt in her mind that she could convince Regulus to just drop the whole thing. He didn't need more friends, and neither did she.

Helene went to turn around but had to stop when Regulus didn't budge. Their eyes met. "Come on, Helena," he whispered. Now it was he who was leading Helene towards her friends, squeezing her hand the whole way.

When Aminah saw them approach, she nudged both Pandora and Eileen. All three girls turned to look towards them and quickly snapped their heads back again. Helene took a deep breath and closed the rest of the distance between them.

"Hi," Helene said. A chorus of greetings welcomed her, and after Helene nudged Regulus to say hello as well, he too was welcomed, though noticeably less thrilled. It wasn't like the girls were being cold towards Regulus, but the cautious way they were looking at him showed their lack of trust in him.

The girls made space on the blanket, and Helene and Regulus sat down with them. No one spoke for a while. The silence fell over them like a heavy blanket, and Helene felt her throat close up. Everything in her screamed at her to leave; run away and never look back. Regulus was still holding her hand, and as if he knew her thoughts, his grip tightened a bit.

"Where did you get the dandelion?" Pandora's head was tilted. Her voice soft. Helene had made sure to sit Regulus closest to Pandora. It seemed like the safest choice, but when Pandora leaned forward to examine the flower in Helene's hand closer, Regulus tensed up slightly. Helene stretched her hand toward Pandora, hoping that it would make her sit back a bit.

When Pandora's fingers touched the flower, Regulus spoke up, "I made that for Helena." To most, his tone would sound proud, but Helene caught a slight lilt of concern.  

"You made this?"

"Wait, your name is actually Helena?"

"I had a cousin who once turned his pet fish into a dandelion."

Regulus's eyebrows shot up, but Helene's body relaxed at the familiar jumble of voices. "My name is Helene," she giggled. "Regulus just calls me Helena."

"Why?" Eileen's focus was now on Regulus. Her squinted eyes were drilling into his face. Regulus looked at Helene, eyes wide, but Eileen had now directly addressed Regulus, and Helene thought that if she started mediating between them, neither party would appreciate it. While Regulus looked nervous, he was way too prideful to not feel insulted by the notion, and she didn't want Eileen to think that Regulus didn't want to talk to her; even if there was some truth to it.

"I just do." Regulus had straightened his back, and he spoke in the same cadence as if he were talking at one of his parents' gatherings.

"Okay, but why?" There was a gleam in Eileen's eyes, and Helene knew she wouldn't let Regulus go. Eileen wanted him to look into her eyes and give her a satisfying answer.

If Helene had found out one thing over the last two months, it was that Eileen was persistent. The girl had learned more about the prejudice against her—its extend—and it had made her bolder, tougher. It wasn't that her goodwill vanished, it was that the more Helene let go of her beliefs, the more Eileen judged those who didn't. She had declared Helene's so called 'isolation' (even though Helene didn't agree with that term, since Eileen always tried to imply that it was done to her on purpose) as the reason for her predisposition towards Muggles. But Hogwarts wasn't isolated. Students of all backgrounds mingled together, and it was impossible for anyone to not have contact with Muggleborns, whether as friends or only as classmates.

While Helene had realised the wrongness of her beliefs by spending time with new people, the same didn't happen with some of the other students. Helene always pondered whether she should tell Eileen her opinion on that—from what she had gathered, the Slytherins didn't actually meet new people, or at least not to the extent that all the other students did. Almost all students in Slytherin were purebloods. Those few that weren't were half-bloods, and they tried their best to hide that fact from their classmates.

Helene figured that it was likely that not every Slytherin believed in blood supremacy. They just knew better than to speak up against the majority in their house. While there was a sort of give-and-take environment in Hufflepuff, it was a kill or be killed one in Slytherin.

But then, Helene would remember that she had heard of the same prejudice coming from students of the other houses. That even if Ravenclaws should be smart enough not to, some of their students still believed in false theories. How certain Gryffindors would ignore their chivalry towards some, only to believe in ascendency. And now and then, there would even be a Hufflepuff who, despite their strong loyalty, would disregard some of it. Still, Slytherin undoubtedly had the most, but the problem certainly didn't start and end there.

Helene didn't understand why the other students felt that way. Sure, she too acted like they did only weeks ago, but then she understood the truth. She was willing to give the Slytherins a bit of leeway considering she knew the situations of the students and their families, but Helene couldn't understand what was going on with the students from the other houses. Why did they not understand that they were wrong?

A faint part of Helene told her that perhaps the issue was bigger than she could understand. She was too young and too naïve. If it were possible, she would just ignore it; and maybe Eileen should just do the same. When Helene ran that thought by Aminah, the girl silently looked at her until Helene's cheeks warmed. She remembered Remus's story about the conversation with Sirius and James during their first morning at Hogwarts, and Helene figured that her idea was similarly distasteful, even if she didn't quite grasp why.

Ultimately it was about Eileen, and she was here now as a favour to Helene, and Regulus would have to prove himself to her.

Helene looked at Regulus. The boy's eyes darted around Eileen's face, and Helene knew him well enough to recognise the look of analyzation on him. He was trying to figure out what she wanted from him. 

"I," Regulus started, only to pause for a second, "I cannot give you a better explanation than that."

"You didn't give me any explanation."

"That is true."

Eileen hummed. She stared at him for a while longer, and then conceded, "Fair enough."

"Oh." Regulus's brows drew together. His eyes once again found Helene's and now there was a clear helplessness burning in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

All four girls had to snicker at that, although Helene tried her best to stifle hers. Regulus's grip on Helene's hand tightened further, and she feared that he would permanently damage her hand if he continued. She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb, and his grip slackened a bit.

"Look, you don't owe me an explanation for the nickname. I don't even care that much as to bite your arm off over it. Just wanted to see if you'd be straight with me or tell fibs, y'know."

"I don't like lying," Regulus said. Helene considered that a polite way of saying he was unable to lie.

"Ah, that makes this easier, lets crack on then." The look in Eileen's eyes concerned Helene. "What do ya think about me, hm? Or, no, not me specifically; Muggleborns."

Helene gulped, Aminah laughed, and Pandora let out a squeak. But Eileen just lifted one eyebrow and wouldn't let Regulus evade her gaze.

Regulus was silent, and the more time passed, the tenser the atmosphere got.

There was no going back now. Helene looked between Eileen and Regulus, and she wished to all the stars in the sky that the moment would pass. The tension would resolve itself. Regulus and Eileen would become friends, and the rest of the school-years would be she joyful and exciting. Her friends would join her and the brothers in the south of France over the summer. They would go to the beach, play games, stay up all night making up stories. They would—

"Helena and I grew up with the same principles and beliefs. I'm sure you already know what I think." His voice was firm, his gaze steadfast, his spine rigid, and his face blank.

Helene felt Aminah's eyes on her, and she knew that she was supposed to step in now. Scold him and defend her friend. But Helene was paralyzed. Her voice had been stolen away by the wind, and she wished she could disappear with it. Slowly, Helene let go of Regulus's hand and wrapped her arms tight over her chest.

"Then you're a bloody muppet," Eileen declared. Before Regulus could react, she continued, "And I don't even mean that as an insult. You're gullible and naïve. You are a spoiled little boy who believes exactly what his parents tell him to, not because you truly believe it, but because it's easy. If you just believe what they tell you—Ignore all the obvious evidence against it, or any kind of human decency—you will live a perfect life. Or at least that was the plan, right? Well, what are you going to do, now that both your brother and your best friend realised the truth? What is more important to you? A hollow but comfortable life, or Helene and Sirius?"

Most of the colour had drained off Regulus's face, leaving only angry red splotches on his cheeks. "Don't say their names," he snapped.

"Their? Sure, whatever, your brother is off limits, but Helene is my friend, too. Which means I want what's best for her."

"You have no idea what is best for her!"

"Marrying your brother is what's best for her?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Regulus groused.

"I think I do." Eileen's tone sounded sweet as sugar, and a smile grazed her face.

Helene's head was spinning, and she could see Regulus's chest heaving. She tightened her arms and pulled her knees up to her chest. If Helene concentrated hard enough, she could pretend to smell the salty air of the sea and feel the rough texture of sand sticking to her legs.

"I also think that you don't believe that I'm a danger to Helene, or any wizard. And if that's not true, how can you believe the rest?" Eileen's posture rivalled Regulus in its rigidness. While the girl pretended to be nonchalant, her stance was defensive, and her hands pressed close to her chest.

Without another word, Regulus stood up. When he didn't walk away, Helene realised he was waiting for her to join him. Helene's head sunk towards her knees.

She couldn't look up. And for the first time, it wasn't because Helene was scared that she would side with Regulus; this time Helene was scared she wouldn't.

"You don't get to look at her like that, Regulus. Helene did nothing wrong," Aminah spoke up. Her warm brown eyes looked over Helene's head and up to Regulus. "If you want to, you can stay, but first you must look in Eileen's eyes and tell her that there is another reason why you think she is inferior to you, other than because your parents told you to. She appreciates honesty, and if you truly believe that you're superior to her, have the nerve to say it to her face. If not, you have almost seven more years to come back here and sit with us, but only once you made your own opinions."

After a second, Regulus turned around and walked away, his fingers grazing over Helene's left shoulder.

The silence in the group prevailed for another minute, until Eileen, too, stood up and made to leave.

"Eileen." Helene's voice was barely above a whisper. "I… please don't…" Helene sighed. There was no way for her to finish that sentence.

"It's alright, Helene. I figured this would happen. Just… give me some time."

"I'm sorry." Helene's voice broke off at the end. A part of her had hoped that Eileen would yell at her, be angry. Helene wanted to be punished for it. For everything. She had so much to make up for. A dark thought had been swimming around her brain the last couple of days. What if Helene gave Eileen the permission to hurt her—torturous, unforgiving—in whatever way she wanted? Would it atone for some of her depravities?

Eileen and Aminah began walking back to the castle. When Eileen passed Helene, she brushed her fingers hazily over Helene's right shoulder.

Helene turned her head to watch the two girls walk away. When she saw Pandora's light blonde hair moving in her peripheral vision, her chest tightened into a tiny knot. But Helene would not plead with Pandora to stay. Helene had put herself in this position, so now she had to deal with it.

Surprisingly, once Pandora stood up, she didn't leave. She walked around Helene and sat down behind her. She took Helene's head, which was still turned back in her hands, and turned it forward. Then she began to run her fingers through Helene's hair.

Silence reigned between the two girls, but as Pandora spent more time entangling knots and braiding strands, Helene felt increasingly relaxed. Her eyes grew heavy, and her brain went quiet.

Once Pandora was done, she took Helene's hand, and they stood up together.

It wasn't until the evening, when Helene opened the coiffure, she realised Pandora had weaved the dandelion into it. Before she went into her bed, she put the delicate flower into a small chest she had previously used to store some jewellery.

Now, the only treasures it held were Regulus's dandelion and Eileen's pen.

Chapter Text

The landscape flew by behind the cool glass, yet its appearance became more and more distorted the longer Helene’s breath hit the window, fogging it up. After a couple minutes, instead of fields and hills, she saw a fusion of whites and greys. A slight burn arose on Helene’s cheek, but she didn’t lift her head from the icy window.

Winter holidays started today, and she was sitting alone in one of the compartments on the train back to Kingscross. All her dorm mates went home for the holidays as well, but Helene had already said goodbye to them and left their shared compartment. They would arrive in London soon, where her parents were waiting for her. Helene’s arrival would already be quite troubling. There was no reason to agitate her parents more by actively associating with people they deemed unacceptable.

The train jolted, and the door to her compartment opened. Helene ignored it, figuring it just fell open, but when soft steps resonated through the expanse, she looked up.

The two black brothers looked so similar, when they were younger, people had problems telling them apart. Their matching black hair and grey eyes. High cheekbones and pale skin. They looked like a pair of beautiful and frigid twins to the eyes of many. Over the years, both boys started to grow into their looks differently, though childhood remained written across their faces. Although, something had transpired that made differentiating them quite easy.

A red tie hung around Sirius’s neck. It was loose and Helene wondered why the boy still wore it, considering the dress code was rescinded for the day of their travels. Sirius’s eyes—normally filled with mischief—seemed dull, mirroring the gloomy December skies.

“Comment vas-tu, mon soleil?” Sirius’s voice felt like a warm blanket, and Helene couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Je m’inquiète de ce qui va se passer.”

“Stop speaking French, Lenny. You’re horrible at it.” Sirius grinned back and sat down next to her on the seat. “So, worried, huh?” Helene hummed quietly in agreement. “Because of your parents?”

Helene hummed again, but this time it seemed like Sirius wanted to hear more from her. “I don’t want to see them disappointed.” Without having realised it, Helene had picked the skin around her nails. When she looked down at them, a tiny drop of blood had gathered on her ring finger. The blood had the same colour as Sirius’s tie.

After noticing it too, Sirius slapped her hands away. “Don’t do that.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And don’t worry about them being disappointed. That’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Helene murmured.

“Yes, yes, it is. You still believe in their innocence, which was fine during school, but Lenny, you have to face reality now. It’ll be worse if you don’t.”

Helene pulled her legs to her chest and turned back to the landscape slipping past them. A thick layer of powdery white snow covered the world, and lonely snowflakes danced through the air. While the Hogwarts Express kept most of the frostiness out, Helene could feel the bite of winter through her woollen stockings.

“Why would they lie to me?” When Sirius didn’t answer for a while, Helene looked back at him. His eyebrows were scrunched up and he was biting his lip.

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, and his voice sounded tired. “I don’t understand it either.”

Helene took Sirius’s hand and let her head rest on his shoulder. The boy sighed again, rested his head on hers, and lifted their intertwined hands. “Quoi qu’il arrive, nous sommes là l’un pour l’autre.” In the air, he shook their hands back and forth between them. “Au moins, je t’ai, et tu m’as. Quoi qu’il arrive, tu es la lumière de ma vie.”

“Ne nous séparons jamais, mon bonheur.”

“I told you to stop speaking French, Lenny. You sound ridiculous,” Sirius replied, his gaze fixed on some spot outside. After a second, he lifted his head and gave her a kiss on the hair. “But, yes, I agree.” His voice was nothing but a faint whisper.

Silence once again fell over the compartment, but this time it wasn’t oppressive. It felt warm and familiar, and Helene closed her eyes.

*

Helene cautiously moved through Platform 9¾’s bustling crowd, preventing herself from falling. Excited students and joyful parents, falling into each other’s arms, filled the air with loud exclamations. The cold weather seemed to be of no concern; everyone had arrived to pick up their loved ones.

A blond student bumped into Helene, pushing her aside while he ran towards an elderly couple. Helene tried to sidestep the next frenzied person, only to collide with a middle-aged witch. She, however, paid Helene no mind, too busy fussing over an embarrassed teenager.

Helene was sure that she even heard the rowdy voice of Eileen over all the commotion. At that, the corner of Helene’s mouth twitched a bit. Eileen’s yelling felt like an appropriate farewell.

Helene was looking around, searching for her parents, yet no matter how long she looked, or where she went on the platform, her parents were nowhere to be seen. It seemed that they were too busy to come pick her up in person—so they were likely waiting for her back at home—which was understandable. Helene knew that one of the house-elves would take care of her luggage, so the girl strode towards the fireplaces, located at the back-wall of the platform.

When she was only a few meters away from them, a hand grasped her wrist, pulling her to a stop.

“Helena.”

Regulus looked stately in his festive robes, but the look of nervousness etched into his face made him look younger than he was. Since October, Helene and Regulus had been… different. They met up, conversed, and laughed together, but where there was only an uneasy edge in the beginning of the school-year, a sharp abyss had appeared. After the disastrous meet-up with Helene’s friends, she hadn’t wanted to meet Regulus’s friends. They were back at their self-imposed dual isolation, but now it was charged with tension.

Regulus had apologised to Helene for his behaviour, but when she asked him whether he’d apologise to Eileen, the boy had pursed his lips. Ultimately, like everything else, they had chosen to ignore what had happened. It was easier, and it hurt less than the alternative.

Nonetheless, Helene had not forgotten Aminah’s suggestion to Regulus, and she hoped to all the stars in the sky that he hadn’t as well. Meanwhile, Helene had fallen into the habit of always leaving a bit of space next to her, whenever she met up with her friends—a spot, a possibility, a promise. If her friends had noticed it, they didn’t question her about it.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” Regulus asked, his eyes fixated on hers.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Helena.” Regulus sounded serious, but her name came out more as a plea than a reprimand.

“It’s… Of course, I’m going to be okay. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled at him, but Regulus only tilted his head slightly. His hand was grasping her wrist, fingertips pressed to her pulse point.

“You’re all I ever worry about,” Regulus breathed.

Both stood there for a moment longer, basking in the mutual understanding flowing between them. When Regulus let go of her wrist, he pulled her into a hug. Helene’s arms wrapped tight around Regulus’s torso, and she breathed in his familiar scent of foxgloves, honey, and sea salt.

They parted ways slowly. When Helene arrived at the Floo point and looked back, Regulus was already looking at her. Helene took one last deep breath, stepped into the fireplace, and picked up the Floo powder.

“Feigrhail Estate.” She threw the powder on the floor and was promptly engulfed by emerald flames.

Helene stepped out into an empty entrance hall.

Everything looked the same as when she left, almost four months ago. Tyrian purple drapes hung from the high ceiling, partially covering the windows, turning the light in the hall dim. Never used loveseats with velvet upholstery stood near the front door. The teak hardwood floor was spotless, and even the maroon-coloured rugs manoeuvring throughout the many halls, and up the many staircases, had not one speck of dust on them.

Helene looked up the central staircase, expecting one of her parents—most likely her mother—to stand there waiting for her. But the staircase—leading to a balcony overlooking the entrance hall, which then leads to the solar, their bed chambers (and their ensuite garderobes), the library, studies, and so on—was empty.

Helene wasn’t sure how to proceed. The polite thing would be to greet her parents before entering the estate, but if they were not waiting for her, chances were that they had left for the time being. However, the idea of walking around without her parent’s knowledge felt odd.

She was at a standstill, and just when Helene made the decision to wait in the entrance hall until one of her parents arrived, Nelda—one of their house-elves—apparated into the room. The grey-haired being ran towards Helene, Nelda’s oversized eyes widening even more. “Miss! Miss! Miss has arrived back from Hogwarts.” In her spindly arms, Nelda hauled Helene’s luggage.

“Do you know where my parents are?” Helene asked, silently inspecting her luggage for any potential damage from the travels.

Nelda hesitated for a second, and Helene’s eyes shot back towards the house-elf. “Master and Mistress have… they have asked Nelda to ensure Miss Helene’s trouble-free entrance back at the estate. They will join the Miss later for dinner.”

“But where are they, Nelda?” Helene furrowed her eyebrows. A headache was forming, and Nelda’s squeaky voice wasn’t helping.

“Nelda believes the Mistress has retreated to her chambers while Master is occupied in his study.”

Helene froze. “They are here?”

“Yes,” Nelda replied, and though house-elves were supposed to maintain a formal and impersonal façade, her voice sounded dejected.

“Oh,” Helene said. She didn’t know how to proceed. She, of course, had expected her parents to feel disappointed—Hufflepuff wasn’t a very respectable house—but the last couple of months had eliminated all doubts in Helene’s mind toward the House. It seems that she had forgotten that her parents hadn’t yet heard about her experiences and therefore, understandably, still felt apprehension.

Still, the idea that her parents wouldn’t greet her after almost four months of no communication—her parents hadn’t sent her any letters over the months at Hogwarts. Another notion that confused Helene—created a deep pit in her stomach.

Ultimately, there was nothing she could do about it now. Helene would see her parents at dinner. They would smile at each other, Helene would explain the benefits of Hufflepuff, and the misunderstanding they had towards Muggleborns, and then they would eat a delicious meal in the familiar glow of the chandelier hanging above their dinner table.

Without another word, Helene brushed past Nelda and walked up the staircase. Once she arrived on the first floor, she followed the maroon carpet until it split into two hallways. If Helene were to turn left, she’d enter the west wing of the estate, which was her parents’ private quarter.

The last time she had entered the west wing, she was eight years old and running after an overexcited Sirius who had spontaneously decided that he needed to see her parents’ bedrooms. Once she had caught up to the boy, Helene had quite literally dragged him out by his hair.

She had hoped that their endeavour went unnoticed, but during dinner her parents confronted Helene, and consequentially she wasn’t allowed to eat the meal, and had to endure a flogging with a bound bundle of Whomping Willow branches. The branches were a useful tool for parents to help them in disciplining their children—they had to only hold the bundle, the branches doing the striking on their own. The bundles were sold in many stores throughout Diagon Alley; however, the availability dwindled over the last couple of decades. Helene realised that it was because many parents didn’t believe in corporal punishment for their children anymore, when Aminah and Pandora both got confused over Helene’s whopping jokes.

Helene wasn’t mad at Sirius for his behaviour. She did, however, stay far away from the west wing since then. So Helene turned to walk down the right hallway, entering the east wing.

Helene loved the east wing. Not only did it hold her chambers, but also the library, a gallery of paintings, and a terrace overlooking the nearby lake. There were other rooms too, though most were of little significant to Helene, whether that was because of a lack of interest on her side, or a ban from her parents for her to roam around in them.

When Helene opened the door to her room, she felt an instant relief. The florid tapestry on the wall felt familiar and calming. Though its colours were a mix of darkish brown and green tones, it always lifted her mood. The taupe drapes—there to cover the French doors leading to her balcony—were pulled back, showcasing the orange colouring of the setting sun. And a bouquet of red poppies and spider lilies, edelweiss, and sweet scabious stood in a vase on her bedside.

With a sigh, Helene slumped on to her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the pleasant smell of the flowers, but her thoughts kept drifting back to her parents.

Both Sirius and Regulus had expressed concern about the reaction her parents would have to seeing her again. But Helene didn’t understand why. Or at least, she didn’t agree with them. Their concerns stem from the assumption that Helene would somehow suffer upon her arrival back home, but why would she? Her parents couldn’t possibly punish her for something that wasn’t in her control.

(Sure, Helene did still believe that she was responsible for the Hat’s decision, but her parents didn’t know that.)

Helene spent the next hour reading the current book she got from Remus—Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The marvellously fantastic world of ‘Wonderland’ that the protagonist Alice had found took Helene’s mind off the future. Tales of talking animals, mad royals, and peculiar individuals enthralled her. Helene hadn’t been sure about whether she should take the Muggle book with her but had eventually decided that the book could be a good illustration for her parents to understand the intelligence of Muggles, after she’d explained to them the reality about their situation and culture.

Time flew by, and after what felt like minutes, Helene heard a knock on her door. “Miss, dinner is being served in the dining room.”

Gradually, Helene lifted herself off the bed. Before exiting her room, she stopped in front of the cheval glass standing in the corner of her room. Helene brushed her fingers through her hair, and straightened out her robes, making sure she looked respectable before stepping in front of her parents.

When she descended the stairs, the queasy feeling in her stomach returned, but it was too late to think about its implication; Helene was about to face her parents.

Stepping into the dining room, Helene felt the air around her shift. Candles were standing around the room and their smoke, which was usually a pleasant scent, now felt suffocating. Their large dinner table was set meticulously, as always, yet its predictability felt jarringly abnormal. At the head of the table sat her father, and on the opposite side of the table sat her mother.

Helene’s parents were embodying nobility. A rancorous father and an austere mother raised Helene. Her upbringing included straight backs, polished shoes, and heavy jewellery. So, their rigor posture wasn’t a surprise.

Her father’s moustache was well groomed, and his burning blue eyes were staring ahead. Helene’s mother wore dark blue robes and had her hands folded before her on the table. Both were already nursing a drink. Whiskey—probably Swott Malt Whiskey, his preferred brand—for her father, and Wine—Superior Red, her favourite—for her mother.

When they heard the clacks of Helene’s shoes, her mother turned her head in her direction, and her father took another sip of his whiskey. Helene stopped in front of her seat, which was the same distance away from both her parents. She didn’t yet sit down, though, awaiting a reaction from her parents.

The reaction never came. All three of their house-elves (Nelda, Tinno, and Klaggy) walked in and served the first course of dinner, so when her parents didn’t protest, Helene sat down to eat the potage parmentier.

The silence in the room felt deafening, and while Helene knew that the food was full of delicious flavours, she could barely taste it. The scrap of spoons on porcelain was the only noise disturbing the quiet, accentuating the tension in the room.  

Helene’s parents had finished their food, and the plates vanished, including hers, which was mostly uneaten. The house-elves walked back in to serve the main course, and Helene felt like she was going to be sick. She couldn’t do more than pick at her roasted ham and vegetables, while her parents ate as if nothing unusual was going on.

All the confidence Helene had had vanished. She hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know how to proceed and, most importantly, she wasn’t sure whether their reaction was positive or negative.

After a while, the main course vanished as well. Her parents had both emptied two more glasses of their respective drinks, and now displayed flushed complexions. Helene’s mother's rosy cheeks turned hollow when the woman pursed her lips, and, finally, her eyes once again found Helene’s. Her eyes, normally a light brown, were dark, and the light coming from the chandelier above threw harsh shadows over her face. Helene knew that her mother was intimidating. However, for the first time, something like fear crept into her mind while looking at the woman.

“So,” her mother started, her voice like a knife. The woman took the cloth napkin off her lap and put it on the table. “You have nothing to say for yourself?”

Helene gulped. “I… Yes, of course I do. I wasn’t sure whether you wanted me to.”

“You didn’t think we would like an explanation?” Her mother lifted a thin eyebrow.

“No—no… I just didn’t want to disturb dinner,” Helene tried to clarify.

“You’re telling us that you were too hungry to explain yourself to your parents?”

“No! No—no, I...I thought you—”

“You thought that we cared more about this pathetic dinner than our family’s reputation?” Now, her father had spoken up. “A reputation that you have carelessly jeopardised.”

Helene’s world was caving in on itself. Something had gone wrong, and she didn’t know what or how to fix it. “I didn’t want—” Helene started, but she was again cut off by her father.

“No, Helene. We are done with what you want. Your selfish desires have taken over this family, and I will no longer permit it. Not only have you joined a house that is neither academically nor socially beneficial, and in fact, is an embarrassment to our family’s noble name, but you are also willingly associating with Mudbloods and blood traitors.”

Helene had to suppress a wince at her father’s harsh words. She also didn’t overlook how it sounded like someone had reported to her parents about her behaviour at Hogwarts.

“I wanted to talk to you about that, too.” Helene knew that now wasn’t a good time. But if she could just explain her experiences and new knowledge to her parents, they would be more understanding and less volatile concerning her Hogwarts house. So Helene took a deep breath and continued. “Muggleborns, and Muggles in general, aren’t actually dangerous. There has been a huge misunderstanding.”

In that moment, it seemed like the world around Helene had frozen. Her parents were unmoving, eyes locked onto her. Helene wanted to look up. She wanted to look outside the window to see snowflakes twirling through the air, or a trees’ twigs careening in the wind; she needed to make sure that life was moving forward, even if she was stuck.

But she couldn’t do it. Helene’s gaze remained downcast on the table.

Wood scraped on wood. Her father had pushed his chair backwards and casually stood up. “What are you talking about?” His voice was surprisingly calm, and Helene took that as a good sign.

“Well, my new friends, they have shown me that all those things we were scared off, aren’t actually a problem. No one stole my magic. In fact, I asked my headteacher, and she said that no one ever has stolen magic from someone else. That’s not even possible. And turns out our blood isn’t even different. Muggleborns don’t have muddy blood, theirs is the same as ours. The whole ‘Mudblood’ thing is an insult and not a description.” Helene had said all that in one breath. Once she was done, a smile appeared on her lips. It felt like an instant relief. Finally, her parents were aware of everything, and now they can move forward in a, hopefully, positive direction.

Her father picked up his glass and hurled it against the wall. In an instant, he stood before Helene’s chair, grabbing her arm, forcing her out of her seat. Helene stumbled, and the only thing keeping her upright was the crushing hold on her bicep. “You stupid, good-for-nothing, savage little girl.” He was now shaking her, and Helene felt tears form in her eyes. “How dare you spew this foolery in front of your mother? In front of me!”

Helene was wringing her hands, trying to think of something to say that would placate her father. But her mother had already joined them, now starring down at Helene, nose, somehow, still held high. “Why are you doing this to us?” she asked, and while she looked as composed as ever, Helene could have sworn she’d detected a hint of vexation in her mother’s voice.  

Her father released her, and Helene toppled back down onto her chair. Her chest was heaving. Helene’s parents were standing over her, looking down; the girl had never felt smaller.

“I…,” Helene began, her voice nothing more than a whisper. But a tear had escaped her eyes and was making its way down her cheek, leaving a warm and salty trace behind. She closed her mouth, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to explain herself. Helene just hoped that by being silent and compliant, her parents would be satisfied enough to let her go upstairs.

After the longest minute of her life, her father released a growl and turned to the bar cart. He poured himself another drink, and the movement made Helene look up. She saw her mother joining her father at the cart, to refill the wineglass she was holding. Her parents’ eyes met for a second, before their gazes fell back on Helene.

Her mother took a sip, and her father opened his mouth. “We have already inquired about switching your house, but Dumbledore has proven himself uncooperative. Beauxbatons doesn’t accept students from England no matter how much money we offered, and while Durmstrang enforces the correction you so desperately need, they don’t accept transfer students.” He paused, took a sip, and continued. “It seems we have no other choice than to either let you keep attending Hogwarts or withdraw you from that school.”

Helene felt like her heart was beating out of her chest. They couldn’t do that, could they? Helene was falling, and it was only a matter of time until she hit the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

“I let you go to school because I care for you and wanted to grant you the privilege of an academic education. I see now that I was imprudent. Your lack of pride in this family has caused immense mortification. Potential nuptial contenders have expressed worry, and we have become the focus of gossips.” Another pause. Another sip. Helene felt dizzy. “Ultimately, I have decided that withdrawing you now would cause even more of a commotion. The Blacks haven’t withdrawn Sirius either, and their situation was worse. The focus is still on them in that regard, and while your sorting is an embarrassment, it’s a less traitorous act than of that boy.”

All the tension left Helene’s body at once, making her slump in her chair, head bowed down. No matter how the conversation would continue, she was allowed to go back to Hogwarts. Helene squeezed her eyes shut and released a shaky breath.

“Look at us when we’re talking to you, girl,” her mother said, and Helene raised her head again.

“You will cut off any contact with Mudbloods and blood traitors, and you’re going to have to do a lot of work to make up for this.”

“What?”

“We have framed this as you being a naïve and meek child. A Mudblood had approached you and manipulated you into joining Hufflepuff. You are beautiful but foolish, and any future husband would be lucky to have you. He, however, will have to be iron-fisted with you. To accomplish that, you will take more lessons while you’re at home, particularly in subservience, graciousness, and how to organise social events. While good marks are not needed for this, your mother and I do expect them of you. From now on, you will do what you’re told, and any misconduct will have consequences.”

Her father stopped talking, and in one swig emptied his glass. Helene’s tongue was tied. The ‘what’ hadn’t been a question concerning any atonement. It was an exclamation upon hearing the demand of her father. She had to cut off contact with her friends. Helene’s head was spinning. Too much was happening at the same time. She just wanted to leave the room, maybe leave the country, and run somewhere far away. ‘Wonderland’ popped up in her mind and Helene felt a kind of longing, she hadn’t before. She wished the White Rabbit would show up and guide her away.

“Do you understand?” Her father’s voice snapped Helene out of the Queen of Hearts’ croquet court, and back into the dining room.

“Yes.”

“Good. You also won’t accompany us to the Lestranges annual winter solstice soirée on Thursday. Now go to your room. We don’t want to see you for the rest of the holidays.” Her father’s words were final, and Helene didn’t hesitate in getting up, thanking her parents, and finally, leaving the room.

Helene’s walk upstairs was accompanied by tears rolling down her face, but she was too fatigued to think about what had just happened. The second Helene’s head hit her pillows, her eyes fell close and sleep engulfed her, leaving behind only small stains on the duvet from the tears still trickling out of her eyes.

*

Helene woke up with a thumping headache. She let out a groan at the persistent knocking and turned around to reduce the plight. Her eyes were half-lidded, and she had to blink a few times to clear the sleep out of them.

Someone was standing on her balcony.

…

Someone was standing on her balcony!

Helene shot up and released a sharp gasp. She scrambled backwards and before she could stop it, fell off her bed. That wasn’t that bad—except that her elbow now hurt—because she could hide behind the side of her bed and figure out what to do. Helene sat up in a crouched position and was just about to peer over the edge of her bed when the sound of a muffled cackle reached her ears.

Helene could recognise that gleeful sound anywhere, and promptly stood up to walk over to her French doors. Sirius’s grinning face greeted her, and though Helene should feel annoyed at the boys’ rejoicing, she too started smiling.

She opened the door, and once she was outside, Sirius swept her up in a hug. When he let her go, Helene noticed his eyes roaming over her body. He seemed satisfied with what he found—or more likely didn’t find—and focused his attention back on her face. But when Helene opened her mouth to ask him why he was here, he started speaking. “Come with me. We shouldn’t talk so close to the house.” He pointed to a broom laying on the floor. “Here, I’ll fly us down.” Helene tried to interrupt to remind him that she didn’t know how to fly, but Sirius once again got there first. “It’ll be fine. Just hold one to me and nothing will happen to you.”

Sirius was right. While Helene had been anxiously clutching Sirius all the way down, the boy flew safe and slow. They landed about a hundred meters away from the house, near the koi pond. They settled down in the round, white gazebo overlooking the estate's grounds.

“I had been knocking at your door for an eternity. You are a heavy sleeper, Lenny.” Sirius, like Helene, was still wearing his daytime clothes. Considering the waistcoat the boy wore, it seemed that the Black family had had a formal dinner.

“You are ridiculous,” Helene replied, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sirius said and draped his arm over Helene’s shoulder. He hesitated before continue talking, when he did, his voice had lost most of its elation. “How did it go?”

All the memories of the evening crashed back into Helene, and her heart sunk. She couldn’t bring herself to do more than shake her head.

“But you’ll come back with us, right?” Sirius’s hand around her shoulder had stiffened, and the other had settled somewhere in his hair.

She breathed, “Yes,” and a trembling laugh accompanied her words.

Sirius let out a long breath and the hand that had previously been in his hair now snaked around Helene’s front. He was still facing forward so as to alleviate the awkward position a bit, Helene leaned herself against his shoulder and chest. His hold increased even more, and he placed a kiss on Helene’s head.

“That’s good. That’s… we can work with that.”

For a while, the two just sat there, closely intertwined, on the floor of the gazebo, gazing out at the small sliver of sky they could see. It was cold, and the ground was covered with snow, but Sirius was warm, and Helene knew that outside with him was more comfortable than inside without him.

“Oh, I’ve got something for you.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a posy of dandelions. “The little chap had already paced a hole in the ground, so I told him to focus his attention on something else. Regulus asked me to give them to you.” Sirius slowly twirled the flowers between his fingers, inspecting them. “He’s pretty talented.”

Helene knew little about the current relationship between the two brothers. She knew that it had changed over the last year, but she didn’t know to what extend and was too frightened to ask. The pride clear in Sirius’s voice felt like a gust of fresh air, blowing her worries away.

Helene took the delicate yellow flowers in her hand, caressing some petals. “Thank him for me, will you?”

“Eh, I’ll think about it.”

Helene nudged Sirius with her elbow, and he exclaimed as if she had jinxed him.

“Wait,” Helene said, looking at Sirius. “How did you even get here?”

“Broom.” Sirius had lifted an eyebrow, squinting his eyes.

“No, I mean, how did you find your way here?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want to shock you, but this is not my first time here.”

“Does that mean you know where I live?” Helene asked, excited.

“Hold on… Lenny, are you telling me you don’t know where you live?” His eyes had widened. When Helene didn’t answer him, he exclaimed. “Bloody hell!”

Helene’s cheeks reddened. “Can you just tell me where?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” The boy was vehemently shaking his head, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Just wait until the boys hear about this.”

“You can’t tell them!” Helene cried.

“Oh, you just watch me. Remus is going to faint when he hears this.” At the mention of the scarred boy, Sirius’s gaze drifted back to the sky. Every year, on December 19th, Hogwarts releases its students for the winter holidays. This year it was a Tuesday, and only one day before the moon would fulfil his cycle. The moon stood proud and enchanting in the sky, and Helene couldn’t look away from it.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sirius didn’t reply, only frowning up at the moon, his head tilted.

They stayed that way for a little while longer, not speaking, only appreciating the company. When Sirius made to leave, Helene informed him that she wouldn’t attend the upcoming soirée, and the boy spent another five minutes complaining. But even that ended, and eventually, Helene was back in her bed.

Helene didn’t know what to do.

Helene didn’t know what to think.

She fell asleep with her mind full of concerns. Nevertheless, this time, no tears collected on her duvet. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland laid on the bedside table. Regulus’s dandelions were tugged in with her other flowers. The drapes to her balcony were still pulled back, and the moon was looking through the glass, watching the young girl sleep.

Chapter Text

Helene often wandered the castle. If she could, she would meander around Hogwarts for hours to explore every square metre of the ancient building. Every corner turned revealed a new, one-of-a-kind sight, making the building a marvel of uniqueness.

Which was precisely what Helene had been doing for the last half hour.

She turned another corner on the third-floor and walked past the Trophy Room towards the next staircase. While walking up, she wondered how long they would keep up the pretence.

Turns out it was for another two storeys.

The shuffle sound that had followed Helene for the last 45 minutes came to a sudden halt. Hearing that, she stopped in her steps and turned around, looking at the empty corridor. Nothing happened for a couple of seconds, and Helene tilted her head while pursing her lips. A disturbance happened in the seemingly unfilled space, and after another second, the corridor wasn’t looking so empty anymore.

Sirius Black and James Potter weren’t nearly as sneaky as they thought they were. The two boys stood in the hallway looking chagrin. James was clutching the cloak they had used to disguise themselves in his hand, his gaze down-turned. Sirius, though initially sharing in James’s embarrassment, recovered quickly, and an enormous grin appeared on his face.

“You were messing with us, Lenny?” he asked, and his voice held a certain amount of satisfaction.  

“What are you two doing?” Helene asked back. She chose to ignore Sirius’s question, afraid of what her answer might spur in him. It seemed too late, though. Sirius’s grin was widening by the second, and James, too, had looked up now.

“How did you know we were following you?” while the boy had adapted a more nonchalant stance, his voice had a whiny cadence. James must have realised what he had said, after he had said it, because he backtracked straightaway. “Not that we were following you, of course.” James tried at a charming smile, but his eyes were a bit too wide, and he was still fiddling with the cloak.

Helene sighed. “You guys are not exactly inconspicuous. I could hear you talk several times, you were laughing every couple of minutes, neither of you know how to pick up your feet while walking, and on the second-floor one of you ran into a statue, knocking you both to the ground.” That was also when she had seen that it wasn’t a charm they were using, but an Invisibility Cloak. Although Helene had no idea where they got the very exclusive garment from.

While she was talking, both boys’ cheeks had turned bright red. Sirius was pouting, and James was running his hand through his hair again and again. Ultimately, Helene didn’t care so much about them following her, or at least not more than about how they had done it.

“Where did you guys get the Invisibility Cloak from?”

Sirius and James exchanged a hasty glance. The next moment, James hid the cloak behind his back, and Sirius walked towards Helene, slinging his arm around her shoulder to turn her around. After pushing her a bit, so that Helene would walk with him, he turned to look at her, a toothy smile once again on his face. “What cloak?”

Helene didn’t reply. Instead, she slipped from under his arm, walking back to James. The boy, who was looking for a place to hide the bunched-up cloak in his hands, didn’t see her coming, so, when she plucked the garment from him, he didn’t resist.

Walking backwards, Helene inspected the cloak. “Well, would you look at that,” she said, now being the one grinning. “A cloak. Which turns its wearer invisible. Some might call that an Invisibility Cloaks. But what do I know? I’m not the one owning it.”

Sirius strolled toward her, still maintaining a calm demeanour. James, on the other hand, had realised the situation they were in, and when Sirius passed him, he gripped the boy's arm. He whispered some words in his ear, and then both boys were tense. James lifted his hands, palms upwards, facing her. He was slowly slinking toward her, Sirius at his back, following. “Nelly.” His second attempted at a charming smile was a bigger failure than the first. Not only was his mouth barely turned up, but his eyes held an obvious level of nervousness. “You are very smart, you know. You are right, this is an Invisibility Cloak.”

James’s habit of being condescending without meaning to was one of his many flaws.

“If you want to, I can show you how to use it. You just need to give it back to me. I’ll even let you borrow it if you want.” His strained smile slipped, and he bolted forward, trying to grab the cloak out of her hands.

James’s over confidence in his ability to succeed, no matter the circumstances, was another one.

Helene jumped back, and before the boy could try again, she swung the cloak over her head, and covered herself in it.

“Bloody hell!” both boys exclaimed. They started looking around frantically, whirling their arms through the air, grasping into the empty. Helene just tiptoed to the side of the hallway, watching the boys tripping over themselves.

“Mate, we are so screwed,” James said, moving his arms in a circular motion from side to side.

“We?” Sirius replied while looking around as if hoping that with enough effort, he could see through the cloak. “You let her grab the cloak. It’s yours, anyway, should have taken better care of it.”

James hit Sirius’s shoulder without looking at him. “You think we should go up or downstairs?”

“Nah, she’s still here, watching us. Lenny’s a little monster if she wants to be. One time she made me and Regulus wander through the woods for hours, searching for a glove she supposedly lost. Meanwhile, that child.” Sirius loudly emphasised that word, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Was enjoying the sun, her glove hidden under her blouse.”

“Why did she do that?”

“They were being bothersome, and I wanted a bit of quiet,” Helene answered. Both boys jumped at that, turning in her direction.

“Ha ha, hilarious, Lenny. You had your laugh. Now give us back our cloak.”

“Our?” James looked at Sirius, but Sirius ignored him.

“Come on,” Sirius continued, holding out his hand expectantly.

Helene sighed. There wasn’t much to do while being invisible, anyway. And, though she had grown more at ease with pushing boundaries in the past three months, resisting the two boys for an extended period was still a challenge.

The winter holidays had been dull, to say the least. Although Sirius and Regulus sent her daily letters, Helene explicitly forbade them from visiting, and she specifically told Sirius not to attempt it. She had spent her time rereading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland several times until she knew it from heart.

“Who in the world am I? Ah, THAT’S the great puzzle!” Helene stumbled over that passage every time. And with every reread, she saw more of herself in Alice. Coaxed and stumbled into a new world; a world where everything is chaotic and queer, but somehow, it’s so much better than reality. Over the two weeks, Helene pondered over who in the world she was? 

When she realised her answer, Helene hated it. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to sit around for two weeks because her parents said so. And most importantly, she didn’t want to not spend time with her friends anymore, no matter what blood statues.

So, when she got back to school, she told herself she would try as hard as she could to become a new person—a better person.

Even though ‘better’ was, in that case, quite subjective. Letting herself succumb to the chaos that was Eileen and the four Gryffindors, wouldn’t be seen as a good thing by most. But it was the right thing. (Probably.)

Helene took off the cloak, smiling. James jumped forward and practically ripped the garment out of her hands, clutching it to his chest. Sirius shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” His smile remained unchanged.

“Are you going to explain to me now why you were following me?”

The boys exchanged another glance, and when they turned back to face her, their eyes had a gleam in them that made Helene nervous. “Do you know what day it is, Nell?”

With a manic grin, and dilated, wild eyes, James Potter might be the scariest thing in all of Scotland, if not Great Britain.

(Remus had taught Helene a bit of geography after Sirius told everyone that she didn’t even know where her own home was located. Remus tried to insist that it wasn’t embarrassing that she didn’t know ‘the basics’, but he did have a look of vague amusement on his face, every time Sirius pointed at another spot on the map, showing where the estate was supposedly located. When Sirius insisted that it was situated in a country Remus identified as Tanzania, he was banned from their table.)

“The first of March, Thursday,” Helene replied, although she wondered whether she should want to know what they were up to.

“Exactly. You see, March is a very important month here at Hogwarts. It holds not one, but two major celebrations.” James paused for a second. “Mine and Remus’s birthday.”

Helene waited for further explanation. When the boys didn’t continue talking, she raised her eyebrows. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, you’re our friend, aren’t you?”

Helene hesitated for a second, but then a small smile threatened to appear on her face. “I… yeah, I am.” She saw Sirius smile wide enough for dimples to appear on his cheeks.

James continued, undisturbed. “Then you will want us to have a good day, am I right?”

Helene felt like she was walking into a trap. “Yes…?”

“Especially considering how much we have helped you this school year?”

“Get on with it, mate,” Sirius chimed in.

“Shut it. Helene?”

At this point, she was sure she was walking into a trap, but there was no way out of this now. “Yes,” she sighed.

“Ace! Take us into the Hufflepuff Basement.” The boys were peering at her eagerly.  

“No,” Helene said, and turned around to walk away. The boys scrambled after her.

“Oh, c’mon. We won’t do anything; we just want to have a look.” Sirius had overtaken her and was walking backwards, facing her. “It would be the perfect present for Remus. You know how much the lad loves knowledge.”

Helene just shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips. But Sirius wouldn’t accept that. He stepped right in front of her, forcing her to a stop. Then he grabbed her shoulders with both hands, shaking her a bit. James joined in by grabbing her shoulders from behind.

While Sirius was taller than Helene, James was at least two centimetres shorter, and both weren’t holding her in a tight grab, so she just shook them off and stepped to the side to walk past Sirius. However, after a couple of steps, she stopped. Turning around, she asked the question she had been wondering for a while. “Where did you get the cloak?” A startling thought crossed her mind, and Helene’s eyes widened. “Did you steal it?” She had whispered the question, cautious of any other people under Invisibility Cloaks lurking around.

“Yes!” James shouted with a smile on his face.

“We’ll tell you if you show us the Basement,” Sirius said, eyes narrowed.

The boys exchanged yet another—Helene started to wonder whether they had somehow found a spell to share a mind, making them so homogenous—glance. She could have sworn to hear a quiet ‘what?’ escaping Sirius’s mouth, but then both just shrugged and turned back to her.

“Yeah, like I said, show us the Hufflepuff Basement, and we’ll tell you how and where.”

“It wasn’t by committing a crime, was it?” After seeing James’s reaction to her prior question, she was almost certain that it wasn’t. Still, she had to ask to make sure.

“I mean…” Sirius put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet. “Technically, no.”

“But I wasn’t allowed to take it with me, so it’s still forbidden,” James said, sounding like he was proud of doing something that was almost forbidden.

“Now then, your parents gifted you the cloak?” James’s mouth dropped, and he had to stumble a few steps to the side, when Sirius punched his shoulder.

“Thanks, you blighter. You botched it.”

James returned to them, rubbing his arm, looking at the floor. He mumbled something incoherent, and then fell silent with a slight scoff, and a punch to Sirius’s shoulder, though much lighter in its force.

“Can you tell me now?” Helene was afraid that she was being a bit too annoying, but her curiosity eclipsed any concern. Invisibility Cloaks were extremely rare. Even her family didn’t own one, which was uncommon, considering they owned many—if not most—rare objects. Helene had never even seen one in person until this day.

“Eh, might as well,” James said. His eyes were still avoiding both Helene’s and Sirius’s. “Let’s go to the East Wing.”

Unlike at the Feigrhail Estate, Hogwarts ‘East Wing’ wasn’t an actual section of the castle, but a singular room—although its size surpassed that of a regular room greatly. Portraits bejewelled the walls, and armour stood proudly around the room, ready to guard the door after sundown. The highlight of the room was the enormous fireplace in the centre of the room, endowing visitors with heat and comfort.

The three students sat down on one of the sofas scattered around the room. There, James explained how the cloak was a family heirloom, passed down to the firstborn of every generation when that child turns thirteen. While James’s birthday was still a couple of weeks away, his parents wanted him to have it before the summer. From his telling’s of how he ‘smuggled’ the cloak to Hogwarts, Helene wasn’t certain that James’s parents weren’t aware that their son had taken the garment with him. And the appalling sneaking Helene had been subjected to only minutes ago only supported her suspicion.

But even in her wildest fantasies, Helene couldn’t figure out why his parents would be okay with that. She had been aware that James’s parents were quite lenient, but they were still a wealthy pure-blood couple, and part of the aristocracy Helene was born into.

While the Potter’s weren’t usual invitees of the frequent pure-blood gatherings, every now and then, they would join an event. Their liberal views on Blood made them ostracised by many, but even in the elite, there were some families who were tolerant, or at least ambivalent regarding Blood politics. Helene’s parents, however, had always made sure to keep their distance from anyone they deemed befouled.

After James had finished explaining, the three spent another hour sitting in the East Wing chatting about anything that came to mind. The sizzling fire burning before them lit up their faces, and Helene wondered whether the shine on her face looked just as proudly red as Sirius’s and James’s did.

*

Like always, the noise level in the Hufflepuff common room was at a critical level. A group of students were playing round after round of Exploding Snap—though at the insistence of one girl, they used the Bavarian rules. To the side, a cluster of girls were doing some sort of arts project, and there were several loud discussions spanning throughout the room. A record player was playing in the background, completing the chaos.

In the middle of it all sat Helene and Aminah at one of the tables scattered around the room, doing their homework. Their shared lesson in History of Magic on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 had left them both confused, so the girls had decided to spend their afternoon helping each other complete their homework.

A first-year boy had joined them. Glenn Hushes was half-blood, and a rather nifty boy. His dark skin matched his dark hair, which was cut into a pompadour and exposed his rather large ears. He sat at the table, twirling a quill around his fingers in hypnotisingly quick movements, while pondering over what to write next.

“Did either of you listen to Professor Binns’ explanation of why the gargoyles were winning before that group of goblins hijacked the movement?” Glenn asked, stretching his arms.

“No, I was confused the whole time why he called them gargoyles sometimes and, other times, wildcats.” Helene in general enjoyed History of Magic. While most students dreaded the subject because of the deceased professors’ lacklustre teaching—which Helene did agree was gruelling—she wanted to learn as much as possible about history. It absolutely fascinated her, and she couldn’t wait for third-year, where she would be able to take Muggle Studies as a class.

Aminah let out a groan as she scratched something off her parchment. “With ‘wildcat’, he means the gargoyles participating in the strike. The strike was a ‘wildcat strike’ which is a stopping of work by unionised workers without authorisation from the union.”

“So, gargoyles mean wildcats, and wildcats mean gargoyles?”

“Yes,” Aminah sighed. “I don’t understand why Professor Binns says things so complicated sometimes, but yes.”

“Why, in Merlin’s name, did gargoyles have unions?” Glenn looked dismayed at the idea. “Stone things have more rights than 80% of the magical world.”

“Isn’t that why the goblins tried to hijack? They wanted a union for themselves, right?”

“Yes,” both Aminah and Glenn said at the same time. The group giggled a bit at that, but their mood dimmed once they looked down and saw that their homework hadn’t been magically completed.

“Can’t we just ask Nigel for his essay? I’m sure he’s already finished it, that little swot.” Though she sounded exasperated, Aminah held a smile on her face when she mentioned their classmate. Most people did when talking about Nigel Morris. He was generally described as nice, in the best way possible. While his small statue made him seem unassuming, his flashy smile and wide brown eyes made up for it. The pearly white of his teeth standing in stark contrast with his tanned skin. He would lend a hand where needed and provided a sympathetic audience for anyone who required one. His only fault, however, was a peeving one; although he was always the first to complete his homework, he was rigorous in his stance on not sharing it with anyone.

“He won’t even share it with us. There is no way he will give it to you guys, no offence.” With ‘us’, Glenn meant he and his two other dorm mates: Alexander Buttin and Tony Walker.

“Then what do we do?” Helene asked, and let out a groan.

Glenn looked around the Basement until he found what he was looking for. “Hey, Lorraine,” he yelled. “Could you help us for a second?”

The prefect, who had been the one to introduce them to their new home about six months ago, heard Glenn, and got off the sofa she had been lounging on to walk over to the three. When she stood in front of their table, she put her hands on her hips, tilting her head. “What’s up, Doc?”

“What do you know about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911?” Aminah asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Lorraine shrugged.

“You mind elaborating a bit on that?” a trace of humour was clear in Glenn’s voice.

“Look, the thing is, with History of Magic, the best thing to do is to write your essays, learn what you need to learn, and then immediately forget it afterwards. I can’t tell you anything about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911, other than that it happened in 1911. And even that I had forgotten.” If it weren’t for the grave expression on her face, Helene would have thought Lorraine was joking. “You’re on your own with that one, sorry. I doubt anyone here can help you.”

All three groaned at that. Upon noticing their unhappy expressions, Lorraine scrunched up her nose. “Look, you can try to talk to some of the gargoyles here at school. Maybe they know something. Or go to the library. Although…” Lorraine tugged on her ear absentmindedly. “I think most books on gargoyle history have gone lost over the years. I guess a lot of students struggled like you guys and turned to the library for help.”

“And what, burned the books afterward?” Aminah let her head fall into her hands.

“Let’s just try talking to a gargoyle,” Helene spoke up. She wanted to finish that stupid essay, because there was still other homework to complete, and she had hoped to walk around outside for a bit with Aminah.

Over the winter, both girls had become stir-crazy, which resulted in them pacing around their dorm while animatedly chatting. After a while, Pandora and Eileen got sick of it, and threw them out—even if they had no authority to do so, which Helene had pointed out to Aminah—so that the two would pace around the halls.

They did that and got into the habit of walking around the castle. Most of the time they did so together, but if one of them didn’t feel like it, or had other things to do, they would stroll through the corridors alone. Once it had stopped snowing and/or raining, and it wasn’t freezing cold, the two would venture outside too.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Aminah sighed. She then smiled at Lorraine. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. Even though I didn’t really help.” Lorraine smiled back when her long-term boyfriend, who was waiting on the sofa, called for her to come back. With a quick goodbye, she left the three, who packed up the various parchments laying before them.

Once finished, they got up and left the Hufflepuff Basement. They had agreed to try the two gargoyles sitting near the Entrance Courtyard, first. So, they walked up the stairs to get to the Ground Floor. As they were walking past the South Courtyard, James, Peter and Remus exited it. They stopped once they saw the three Hufflepuffs.

“Merlin! Can’t turn a corner without running into you, Nell,” James exclaimed, smiling and throwing his arms in the air.

Aminah, who through Helene had already spent some time with the four boys, rolled her eyes at James’s antics. Glenn, however, didn’t know the boys, and stood a bit to the side.

“You were following me.” Helene shook her head. Seeing the confused—and quite frankly, concerned—looks, Peter and Remus shot James, who let out a brief cry in return, she let out a chuckle.

“It’s not what it sounds like.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Eh, fair enough.” James shrugged. “We did do that.”

Remus just shook his head, while Peter and Aminah looked at each other in defeat. Helene noticed Glenn was just staring at his shoes. “Oh, this is Glenn.” She turned between Glenn and the trio before her. “Glenn, meet Remus, Peter, and James.”

“Hey, mate, nice to meet you.” James stepped forward and took Glenn’s hand, shaking it formally.

Peter kicked James in the leg, interrupting their greeting and causing James to stumble.

“Don’t be chopsy, James,” Remus said, and pulled the boy back by his robes. James grumbled under his breath, while Remus and Peter both greeted Glenn—though without a handshake.

Once everyone had become acquainted—and James had stopped grumbling—Peter noticed their parchments and quills. “What are you up to?”

At that, the three let out a harmonised huff. “You don’t happen to know anything about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911, do you?” Helene asked, hopeful.

James and Peter both shook their heads, but Remus said, “Yeah, a little bit. We learned it only last year.” The last part was directed at his two friends.

The three Hufflepuffs all jolted at that. With no hesitation, Aminah stepped forward and grasped Remus’s arm. “You are coming with us.” And without another word, turned around and walked back to the stairs, pulling Remus with her.

“Oh, thank god,” Glenn said, and he and Helene both turned to follow. Helene could hear two more pairs of steps behind them as Peter and James followed. Aminah walked them all up to the third-floor library entrance, and only let go of Remus’s sleeve once they had reached a table.

Remus, who had been humouring Aminah and let himself get dragged by his sleeve, sat down at the table snickering a bit.

“Blimey, Remus. You’ve just been kidnapped by a girl.” James sauntered over to the table; delight written on his face.

Aminah, who looked to be ready to rip out her hair at his antics, turned to James, eyes narrowed. “You want me to kidnap you next?”

James’s smile fell off his face. “What?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

“I…I don’t know. Just shut your gob.” While the girl tried to sound annoyed, Helene saw the grin she tried to hide, and grinned back at Aminah.

They all took a seat at the table, and Helene noticed that someone was missing. “Where’s Sirius?”

“Ah.” Peter scrunched up his face. “We lost him.”

“Lost him?”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get him back, but you never know in this cruel, treacherous world,” Peter said, and both he and James let out forlorn sighs.  

“He’s got detention,” Remus deadpanned.

“Argh!” James threw himself down on the table, only to bounce up again. “The unjustfullness,” he cried, wringing his hands.

“Injustice,” Remus sighed.

“That too.” James now turned away from them. Glenn and Aminah had started to snicker, but Aminah tried to hide it by burying her face in her hands. “I miss him.”

“You’re upsetting him, Remus,” Peter said and stroked James’s back in soothing motions.

Remus closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. “Yeah, he’s upsetting me too.”

They came to do homework and in less than a minute, it had gotten derailed. That must be some kind of record. Helene leaned over to Remus and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “I regret asking.”

“Oh, Helene.” Remus let his head fall to the side, shooting her a smile. “I am so glad you do. It gives me hope.” He sat back up. “You want me to explain it to you now?”

They did, and finally, the three continued their essays. While Remus was helping them, James and Peter more or less behaved themselves, though that had probably less to do with a general respect for others, and more with the cross looks Madame Pince kept sending them. With Remus, they finished their homework in less than 20 minutes, though they found another discussion topic quickly.

In which of the divisions created by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, gargoyles fit in. Beast, Being, or Spirit.

“Beast is the only one making sense,” said Glenn. The debate had been going on for some minutes, and the boy was adamant in his belief. “Most of them aren’t even sentient.”

“But we were about to talk to one to ask it about gargoyle history.” Helene, too, felt quite passionate about the topic. Over the winter, she had read a book about the history of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and thought of herself as a sort of expert now. “They had unions.”

“I never understood that. How did they have unions? What are their jobs?” Peter asked, and James nodded his head, humming aloud. But the group ignored the two boys, too swept up in the argument. Remus contributed nothing, but he listened keenly.

“Right, they had unions. They are obviously Spirits.” Aminah crossed her arms when Helene and Glenn exclaimed in disagreement. “They aren’t alive.”

“But they have a physical body.”

“And are affected by gravity,” Helene agreed with Glenn.

“Not being alive kind of trumps all that. You can’t be a Being, or Beast, without being alive.” With her arms still crossed, Aminah sat proudly with gleaming eyes. She wore a winning smile, as if she had just given the conclusive argument. Disgruntled, Helene thought that she kind of did.

However, she didn’t want to give up quite yet. An idea emerged in her head, and Helene mirrored Aminah’s grin. “Werewolf.”

“WHAT?” The table shook when all three Gryffindors shouted at the same time. Peter had flinched hard and was now gaping at Helene with eyes wide like saucers. James had pushed himself away from the table, and consequently fell backwards over his chair. Remus had tensed up and looked like he was in a state of paralyses, all the colour had vanished from his face, and he was gripping the table with both hands.

The Hufflepuffs exchanged glances, and Glenn got up to help James off the floor.

“Are you guys alright?” Aminah asked, eyes trailing between the boys.

James and Peter nodded zealously, although their quickened breath and James running his hand through his hair repeatedly, told another story.

When Helene looked back at Remus, the boy still hadn’t moved. He was just staring down at her with shining eyes. Their eyes met, and Helene felt like the air had been pulled from her lungs.

Remus Lupin’s soft, hazel eyes had been overtaken by terror. The boy who had been so reliable, so helpful, and so understanding was looking at Helene, and she did not know what he was trying to say.

Helene had to rip her gaze away from his eyes, scared she might drown in them otherwise.

She would ignore what had happened, because she owned Remus a lifetime of consideration.

“I meant that,” Helene had to clear her throat. Her voice hoarse. “Gargoyles could be sorted the way werewolves are.” She didn’t miss how Remus once again tensed up, but she ignored it. “When they are transformed, they are counted as Beasts, and when they aren’t, they are classified as humans, ergo, Beings.”

Aminah pursed her lips until she began slowly nodding. “I can see that, yeah. But they are part of two divisions without reforming. Exception proves the rule.”

“Okay, alright,” Glenn agreed. “But now the question is, Beast or Being?”

Aminah groaned, but sat up straighter, ready to argue. Peter and James, who had previously been busy soothing Madame Pince, so that the librarian doesn’t kick them out, joined the argument, a lot calmer now.

Helene sat back, watching the others, feeling Remus’s stare at the side of her head. She looked up to give him a brief smile, but turned back forward before he could do or say anything. He didn’t need to.

She understood that something had happened to Remus. Something so harrowing, Remus’s fingers were still shaking minutes later. Most importantly, that something somehow involved werewolves.

A shiver ran down Helene’s spin at the thought. Kind, gentle Remus having an encounter with one of the most vicious and blood thirsty beasts ever. It was unimaginable.

But she would ignore it. Remus had ignored so much for her. Now it was her turn.

Still, Helene felt deep admiration for Remus’s resilience. If she had an encounter with a werewolf, she wouldn’t know how to go on.

Luckily, she was certain that she never would.

Chapter Text

It was the last week of school before the summer holidays. The blazing June sun heated the long corridors slithering through Hogwarts, and a general ambiance of excitement embraced the students.

Well, most.

Helene and Peter ran through the castle at a lightning speed, cursing their friends, and promising that, once this was over, they were going to kill them. They hasted around another corner, and Peter grabbed Helene’s arm when she started stumbling. They didn’t slow down, though—there was no time.

Almost tripping over each other, they ran down the stairs and arrived in the dungeons. There it was only a couple more hallways before the two boys who had gotten them into this mess greeted them.

James and Sirius were standing in front of the Potions classroom trying their best at pretending to be nonchalant. Each boy stood against one wall, but where Sirius was fiddling with his robes, James was moving his head from side to side while whistling.

Peter and Helene stopped once they reached the boys, trying to catch their breath. They had run all the way from the Great Hall, while Sirius and James just stood around. “What are you guys doing?” Peter gasped, putting his hands on his knees.

“Uh, waiting for you?” Sirius scoffed. “Being inconspicuous?”

“Why didn’t you,” Helene started, but stopped to take a breath. “Use the cloak? We only went with Remus because you said that you would be able to not be noticed.”

“Yeah, and we weren’t.”

“We thought you meant you were gonna use the cloak,” Peter said, slowly getting into an upright position.

“Hm.” James had wandered over to them. “You’re right. Well, next time.”

Peter and Helene looked at each other. They were definitely going to kill Sirius and James after this.

“So? Did it work?” James asked, tapping his feet.

“Remus is keeping Slughorn away from the dungeons. They’re talking near the Great Hall.”

What Peter didn’t mention was that Professor Slughorn had seemed rather impatient when Remus approached him, so there was a good chance that the professor’s return was imminent. They had agreed on not telling the two boys though. The only thing worse than hyper Sirius and James was jittery Sirius and James.

“Alright,” Sirius said and clapped Peter on the back. “Let’s do this.”

All four turned to the door leading to the Potions classroom. With a quick spell Sirius opened the door—why a spell that first-years learn was being used to lock the door was a conundrum—and they filed into the room, closing the door behind them.

Without hesitation, James strode over to the supply cupboard. Another quick spell, and that door fell open too. “Bingo,” James said, and then turned to Peter. “Did I use that right?”

“Yes,” Peter answered, although he was distracted by the materials displayed before him. Once he found what he was looking for, he reached out and took a handful of red mushrooms. “I’ve got the bursting mushrooms.”

Helene turned to the shelves on her left. During Potions class earlier in the day, she had spotted one of the ingredients they needed. “Here,” she pointed at the wartcap powder. “How much do we need?”

“I don’t know. Just take the entire box,” James told her, and then let out a triumphant sound. “Found the salamander blood.” He took out two vials, weighted them in his hands, and pocketed the bigger one, putting the smaller back on the shelf.

The three left the supply cupboard where Sirius was waiting for them, holding a cauldron. The other materials they needed poking out the top. “You got everything?”

James shook the vial he was holding. “Extra gross blood, just like you wanted. You?”

“Yup. Put everything in here.” Sirius put the cauldron on the floor, and they put in the ingredients. “One of us should carry it while wearing the cloak.”

“How did you come up with that brilliant idea?” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“Okay, so it won’t be Helene, of course.” She scrunched up her nose at James’s words. That seemed like something Eileen told her she shouldn’t agree with, but then again, she didn’t want to carry the heavy cauldron.

It seemed like Peter disagreed with her docility. “Mate,” he said, shooting James a glance.

“Not because she’s a girl,” he scrambled.

“Then why else?” Sirius asked, clasping his hands behind his back. Helene knew for a fact that Sirius wouldn’t have let her carry the cauldron either. And, that if James hadn’t spoken up first, he would have said something similar. Sirius tilted his head, and she could see how much he was enjoying James being flustered.

“I…” James sighed. “It’s because she’s a girl.” Peter started booing, and James continued quickly. “My parents taught me to never let a girl carry something. I’m just being a gentleman.” With a satisfied nod, he turned to Helene.

That argument made sense to her. It resembled what she had learned. If Helene hadn’t seen James throw a book at a girl from his class last week, she might have believed him.

““How different the reasoning is that men adopt when they are discussing the cases of men and those of women”-Emmeline Pankhurst.” Peter was met with three bewildered stares. “I have three sisters.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it should be one of you two. Some of the teachers get a bit nervy seeing you together.”

“Fair enough. I vote for James. It’s his cloak, after all.” Peter and Helene nodded in agreement, but James took a step back.

“You’re always blabbing about being taller and stronger than me. You should do it.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’ll let you do it,” Sirius said.

“I don’t want to, though.” James crossed his arms in front of his chest. But Peter and Helene were over their bickering, and there was still the risk of professor Slughorn showing up any minute.

“You’ll both go under the cloak, so you can share the weight of the cauldron,” Peter said, and he sounded so final, there was no room for the boys to complain. (They still did, though. But quiet and between their teeth.) The two picked up the cauldron together, and Helene draped the cloak over them, making them disappear into thin air.

James having the cloak was a thrill for the four Gryffindors. It was a curse for the rest of the castle. In the last six months since winter holidays, they had become bolder and bolder. Where they used to mouth off a bit, they were now full-on, causing trouble. Terrifyingly, James and Sirius got much better at sneaking around unnoticed, and Peter and Remus had been natural at it from the start.

Their current plan was amalgamating months of mischief. If Sirius had told her she would be tiptoeing through the corridors, having just robbed the Potion classroom, she never would have gone with him. But he hadn’t. He had said that there was an emergency with Remus and that they needed her help. Remus was fine and not very amused by Sirius’s lie. They didn’t even need her help. Sirius just thought it would be fun to drag her along.

An invisible foot stepped on her heel, and she cringed away. “Be careful, Sirius.”

“Sorry,” he said, and she heard some rustling. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Educated guess,” Peter chimed in. The next second, the boy tripped forward. “Hey!” Peter tried to dodge any other attacks, but it seemed Sirius was always one step ahead. Peter resigned to jumping in zigzag motions, while punching the air at random.

Though their plan was to be undetected, Helene couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her mouth. Suddenly, James appeared in the hallway, holding the cauldron—Sirius still not visible—with his mouth open, blinking. Helene had to lean against the wall, her legs starting to wobble from how much she was laughing. James, while still holding a look of bewilderment, started laughing too, and soon Peter joined them.

Sirius was probably laughing with them, but she couldn’t be certain because the boy still wouldn’t reveal himself.

They could have stayed laughing for hours if they hadn’t heard the echoing steps coming towards them. In an instant, Sirius appeared, only to throw the cloak over James as well. Both boys were gone, which left Peter and Helene to sort themselves out so that they looked as innocuous as possible.

When Professor Slughorn rounded the corner, Peter and Helene were pretending to be in a profound and very serious conversation about the materials used to build Hogwarts.

“The front doors are definitely oak. At first, I thought maybe pine or birch. But, no, definitely oak.”

“I agree. I agree.” Peter nodded. His face straight, lips pursing. “I also like the grey stony walls. Oh, greetings, Professor Slughorn.” From the void, a suppressed cackle sounded, but Helene stepped forward, clearing her throat.

“How are you, professor?” She smiled as wide as she could, and it took everything in her not to glare into the empty space.

“Ah, Miss Feigrhail. Mister Pettigrew,” the professor said, though he sounded much more delighted about Helene’s presence. “I’m doing splendid, thank you very much. Although I do have to haste back to the classroom. School isn’t over yet, and I’ve got a fun lesson planned for the second-years.” He winked at Peter, and after a quick goodbye, kept walking through the dungeons.

Once the professor was no longer in their view, both exhaled. They felt relief for all of five seconds, before their peace was interrupted. “Stony walls?” Sirius giggled.

“Definitely oak doors?” James almost couldn’t get the words out, and the feet of both boys momentarily became visible at all their bobbing around.

Helene furrowed her brows, pouting a bit. “The front doors are oak.”

Peter put his hand on her shoulder, nodding his head. “I know. Come on. They’ll either follow us, or we find Remus and go down to the lake without them.” Helene agreed, and the two started walking away from the still spluttering, concealed boys. It was only when they reached the bottom of the staircase that they heard the complaints of Sirius and James, and their hasty pace to catch up.

They continued on their way, and after another minute, they finally reached their destination. Remus was already waiting for them in the Transfiguration Courtyard. He was standing with his arms crossed, looking around in quick motions. A bulky brown bag was slung over his shoulder. When he noticed them approach, his shoulders dropped.

“What’s taken you guys so long? Decided to go on a ling di long stroll around the castle, or what?” Helene was glad Sirius was still invisible, because if Remus had seen Sirius’s inevitable amused face after hearing the Welsh phrase, he might have left.

“Sorry, there were some complications,” Peter said, grimacing at Remus. “Did you open the entrance yet?”

“Yes, it was surprisingly easy, seeing as it’s supposed to be used as a prison.” It seemed like Hogwarts had a general security problem; or just way too much trust in its students.

The Dark Tower was looming before them, tall and narrow. The tower was one of the many built on to the castle, but the element setting it apart was that it stood empty. From Hogwarts: A History, they had learned that the tower was seven floors high, with several cells surrounding the spiral staircase leading up to the main cell at the top.

“I see no issues with that. Better for us, and better for all the poor, innocent criminals getting locked up in here,” Sirius’s disembodied voice sounded, and the large door opened with an ominous screech.   

“Innocent criminal is an oxymoron,” Remus said, but they followed into the tower, the door falling shut, letting the darkness engulf them. There was some rustling, and after a whispered spell, Sirius stood before them, illuminated by his glowing wand.

“You’re a moron,” Sirius replied, and with a wink he turned around to walk up the staircase, leaving the others to deal with the cauldron.

Getting the cauldron up the seven floors took a while and was strenuous. At least, that’s what Helene assumed. James had kept true to his words, and not let her help. Peter ridiculed him for that all the way to the top. Remus—who was helping by telling James and Peter how they should carry the cauldron, and when they should move—couldn’t keep in his laughter upon hearing James stumble his way through another explanation.

When they reached the top, they had agreed that while Helene (and girls in general) could do everything boys do, they shouldn’t have to. Peter and Remus didn’t seem overtly impressed at that conclusion, but it was beyond than what Helene had believed, and she was sure that the girls would be satisfied with it.

While Remus and Helene started a fire, and set up the cauldron, the others prepared the ingredients by slicing the bursting mushrooms into thin pieces. James opened the box of wartcap powder, smelled it, scrunched up his face, and set it aside.

Once they were all done, they gathered around the cauldron. Sirius grabbed Remus’s bag and took out several jugs. Seeing Helene’s confused face, he explained, “It’s the base for the potion. It has to be brewed in advance.” With that, he poured the brown liquid into the cauldron. A loud hiss sounded when the elixir touched the hot bottom, and a putrid fume amassed in the air.

“We should have chosen a place with better ventilation.” James coughed in the crook of his elbow.

“Too late now,” Sirius said, though his voice sounded nasal. “I’ll add the mushrooms, and then someone has to stir clockwise.”

They had already drawn her into this, so she might as well help. Helene took the stick, and after Sirius had put in the mushrooms, started stirring. It only took a couple rounds before the potion took on an icy blue colour.

“Looks alright. Now the salamander blood, and then stir anti-clockwise until it turns green.” Remus handed the vial of blood to Sirius, who dumped it in without measuring.

“Sirius!” Peter punched Sirius’s shoulder.

“I eyeballed it. Don’t worry, it’ll work.” Sirius shrugged, unbothered by his friends’ incredulous looks.

“This is not something we should leave up to chance, mate.” James’s voice held a hint of tension, though that could also just be his voice being muffled by him covering his nose and mouth with his discarded robes.

Helene, who had been stirring, stopped at that. “What even is this potion?” The thought should have occurred to her much earlier, but everything had happened so quickly, and the boys sounded excited enough, putting her at ease. Except, now, upon realizing the general feeling of caution concerning the potion, she felt on edge.

Remus let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, um…” He scratched his head. “You should continue stirring or it’ll explode.”

“What?” Helene shrieked and jumped back from the cauldron. Sirius leaped to grab the mixing stick before it submerged in the potion. He took her place and continued stirring, throwing a look over his shoulder.

“Will it actually explode?” To Helene’s horror, Sirius didn’t sound alarmed. His voice held a tone of genuine curiosity, while he moved his wrist in relaxed little circles.

Remus nodded, humming in agreement.

“Ironic,” Sirius snorted. He peered into the cauldron. “It isn’t turning green.”

“Give it a second,” Peter said. He had wandered over to Sirius’s side, watching the boys’ movement.

Helene couldn’t believe it. The boys were acting completely normal, knowing the danger they were potentially in. Even Remus, who seemed nervous when telling her, was leaning against the wall, drumming his fingers on it in an offhand beat.

With scrunched eyebrows and a high voice, Helene asked again. “What potion are you making?”

“We, Lenny. What potion are we making.” Helene could have kicked Sirius down all seven floors of stairs.

“Sirius!”

He must have realised by the sound of her voice that Helene wasn’t up for joking. He sighed and looked back over his shoulder at her. “Ask James. It was his idea.”

“And it’s a brilliant idea,” James said. Helene raised her eyebrows at him, and he continued, letting his robe fall to his feet. “Y’know how Gryffindors are brave, and noble, and stuff?” She did know that. She also knew that the more time she was spending with the four Gryffindors, the clearer it got why it wasn’t called the house of the sagacious. She didn’t voice that aloud, just nodded. “So, I thought that we should somehow prove our loyalty to each other. I pondered and pondered about how to do that, when, suddenly, Peter mentioned a very interesting Muggle saying. ‘To walk through fire and water for someone’.” James noticed Helene’s widening eyes and started talking faster. “And, well, water is not really our thing, and Gryffindor and fire belong together, and I mean, what better way to—to show everyone what good mates we are, and…”

Slowly, Helene turned to look back to Sirius. He was avoiding her gaze. “What potion is this?”

Ironically enough, James was the only one brave enough to answer her. “Fire-Protection Potion.”

From outside, the faraway voices of students could be heard. Joyful sounds stemming from them playing games, hanging out with friends, and thinking about the upcoming summer holidays. The tower, however, was submerged in silence, only the irregular sounds of five people breathing in and out, while musing about what they were doing, considering they were still here and not down there with their classmates.

A loud pop sounded, startling them, and snapping them out of their contemplations. “Sirius, stir!” Remus yelped. Sirius, who was still holding the stick, but had halted his movements, winced, and started stirring. Now, with much less relaxation than before.

Faster and faster, his hand whirled around, making the potion almost spill over the side. When the colour changed from blue to green, he stopped abruptly, turning to James, who was the closest to their supplies. “Wartcap powder! Quick! Quick!”

James’s general disregard for safety precautions directly caused what happened next—it didn’t make it any less horrific. At Sirius’s exclamation, he picked up the box of wartcap powder, and bolted forward. He didn’t even manage an entire step before his feet had gotten tangled in his robes. His arms moved around to find something to catch himself with, but he was in the middle of the tower, so his efforts were futile. The opened box flew out of his hands, and James fell to the floor. Not a second later, the box dropped down onto him, all its contents spilling over his entire body.

Time stood still. Some sunrays had found their way into the gloomy tower, shining through the window high above them. They fell on the lying figure of James, on his stomach and motionless, and for a second, his entire body was shimmering like he was a delicate piece of art.

Then the screams began.

James was reeling on the floor. A brown crust appeared on his back, and it quickly expanded. Before anyone could intervene, James was nearly entirely covered by the spreading crust. As if coordinated, all the other four lurched toward the screeching boy at the same time.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Sirius bend over James looking as if he was trying to protect the boy from anymore harm. Helene had frozen by his side.

“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” Peter repeated over and over, switching between whispering and shouting.  

Remus tried to keep James’s head from hitting the floor, but it seemed that was all he could concentrate on. He was breathing heavily and shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“Remus, please.” The terror in Sirius’s voice made Helene stumble. The last time he sounded like that, everything had changed, and she didn’t even want to imagine what the worst-case scenario now would be, elucidating his fear.

“I don’t know!”

They couldn’t do anything… They couldn’t do anything!

Helene grabbed Peter by the hood of his robes, pulling him up. “We’ll get help. Come on, Peter.” And with that, the two found themselves running side by side for the second time that day. However, this time, their motivation was much more extreme. Spurred on by James’s screams echoing down the tower, their speed accelerated, and it was a wonder that neither tripped while hasting down the spiral staircase.

When they reached the Transfiguration Courtyard, they paused, looking around for help. But the only people around were fellow students lounging on the grass. They kept running, but didn’t come far, because almost immediately after entering the school, Professor McGonagall’s familiar stony expression greeted them. Helene could have wept at the sight of the witch.

Peter rushed forward and grasped the arms of the shocked professor. “You have to come with us, quick.” Professor McGonagall looked from Peter to Helene, who was fervently nodding her head. With a stern nod of her head, she followed the two back to the Dark Tower.

When they reached the door, Professor McGonagall stopped, opening her mouth. But when the ricochet of James’s screams reached them, she rushed up the stairs with them.

The sight that greeted them in the topmost cell was harrowing. James had stopped rolling around, a thick crusty layer covering him. He was only twitching, the screams he let out stifled by the coating over his mouth. Sirius and Remus kneeled next to him, wearing matching expressions of helplessness, tears streaming down their faces.

Professor McGonagall didn’t hesitate and took out her wand, pointing it at James. “Wartcap powder?” They all answered, quick and frantic, and she got to work. The witch cast several spells, and slowly, the crust disintegrated, revealing the boy underneath. It seemed he was lucky that he wore a long-sleeved shirt; the parts of his skin that had been directly exposed to the powder were inflamed and swollen.

In a brief, shameful moment, Helene thought it amusing that this all started because of James’s wish to traverse fire unharmed, and it ended with his skin seared red.

James’s chest was heaving, and he was still twitching, even though Professor McGonagall had finished her healing. She stood up, and for the first time, let her gaze wander the room. “What happened here?”

The question hung in the air, no one answering. Their focus was on James, and it felt impossible to talk. Helene’s hand brushed Peter’s, and she found that they were both shaking.

The quietness didn’t satisfy Professor McGonagall. “What potion is this?”

A shaky laugh escaped Helene, and she could feel tears gathering in her eyes. All the adrenaline was deserting her body, leaving her swaying on her feet.

The Professor sighed. “Alright, I’ll bring Mr Potter to the hospital wing. While I’m away, you will not leave this cell or touch the potion.” With a start, Helene realised they had never finished the potion. But one look was enough to see that someone had extinguished the fire, leaving the potion incomplete and still.

James stood up with the help of professor McGonagall, and together they shuffled out of the cell, though not without another warning look thrown by the witch.

That left Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Helene in the cell. Peter gently pushed Helene forward, and they sat down, leaning against the wall. The other two boys joined them, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, not speaking, not moving, eyes fixed ahead.

After a while, Sirius broke the silence. “Innocent criminals.” He let out a brief chuckle, but it sounded more like a scoff.

*

Getting the first detention of her life so close to the summer holidays felt like a joke. Helene had been tricked into joining the group. She hadn’t carelessly disregarded safety precautions. And she hadn’t even known what they were doing. Still, she ended up right next to the four boys, who must be some kind of punishment from the universe, sent to make her life difficult.

Another wad of paper hit her shoulders, and her grip on her quill stiffened.

On the whole, they had gotten away lucky. James had not sustained any serious injuries, and after a night in the hospital wing—the third one that year—there was no trace left of what happened. In fact, afterwards, he told them that it wasn’t even that painful. He had just been shocked and scared.

They had, however, gotten a harsh reprimand from their headteachers. Helene had burst into tears, halfway through the scolding, the harsh tones reminding her of whats to come. The summer was almost there, which meant going back home, and she did not know how her parents would react. Sirius—who also seemed quite unnerved—took her aside, calming her down. When they re-joined the group, he just told them that Helene was sensitive, and to ignore her. The looks on the Gryffindors’ faces made it clear that they weren’t convinced, and the two teachers too seemed sceptical, but they let it slide.

Ultimately, because of the nearing holidays, they were let go with only three hours of detention.

Helene hadn’t thought about it more until she sat in the classroom. That’s when she realised she was actually a bit mad at the boys. So, now, she was ignoring them, hoping that it would signify her displeasure at being deceived, and make sure that something like that wouldn’t happen again.

It had taken about three minutes for them to notice her cold shoulder. They had agreed on the strategy of ‘throwing stuff until she was so annoyed she would turn around’ to get her attention. The professor that was tasked with watching them had fallen asleep as soon as they sat down, and while Helene would love some help, she would not wake him.

Another object hit Helene’s arm, falling on the floor in front of her. Her jaw dropped, her carefully constructed plan dissolving into stunned disbelief as she reacted instinctively.

“Where did you get a Vanda Miss Joaquim?” Four blank faces greeted her.

“What in Merlin’s name is a Wanda Miss Wuhakim?”

“This flower,” Helene said, and picked the pink flower off the floor.

“Huh.” Remus blinked. “I was trying to make an orchid, but Sirius interrupted me.”

“This is an orchid. A type of orchid.”

“Oh, cool. It worked. Orchids are difficult.” Remus shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

Helene made to turn back around, but Sirius clamped his hands on her shoulder, hindering her movements. “Why are you ignoring us, Lenny?”

“I’m not,” she said, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Yes, you are.” All four boys spoke simultaneously, and Helene’s cheek heated up. Confronted with her behaviour, it seemed kind of silly.

She cleared her throat and took a strand of her hair between her fingers, focusing on it. “It’s your fault that I’m here.” She had expected some sort of protest, but the boys were nodding in agreement. “You guys are reckless.” Still no protest, and Peter shrugged. “You’re all just enabling each other, even you, Remus.” The boys looked rather proud at that, and Helene couldn’t believe it.

“That’s called, being cracking mates.” James’s proud statement, and the subsequent playful jabs exchanged between the boys, was more than Helene could take.

“No! That’s called being a group of mischievous and unruly marauders!”

All four boys looked at her, astonished at the outburst. Slowly, Sirius and James turned to face each other, and when their eyes met, a matching set of dangerous grins formed on their lips.

For some reason, Helene got the distinct feeling that she had made a colossal mistake.

Chapter Text

Marauders. Marauders. Marauders…

She really should have kept her mouth shut.

The Marauders.

Of course, they took her insult and turned it into a label. Now they were strutting around, letting everyone know—whether or not they wanted to know—that they were from now on to be known as the marauders.

Ultimately, though, it had been a welcome surprise when she boarded the train that took her mind off the unpleasant summer she had.

Summer had been… different. During the first month, her parents had more or less pretended nothing had happened. Helene spent her days reading, learning, and waiting. Waiting for the only relief in her bleak days.

That relief would come in the form of the two Black brothers. Well, most of the time only in one of them. It seemed that their parents had made some sort of agreement to keep Helene and Sirius apart as much as they could.

Usually, their summers were divided into the two months. The first month, they would spend most of their time at the Feigrhail estate, because, while it was magnificent, Grimmauld Place 12 wasn’t made for the energetic adventures they pursued. The second month, Helene often joined the two brothers in their villa in the Calanques de Cassis. It was hidden away from any Muggles and located right by the water. Every now and then, a Muggle boat would float past them, but no one ever noticed the old ivy-covered estate.

This summer, however, Helene didn’t go with the Black family. Sirius and Helene were only allowed to see one another during formal dinners or other social gatherings. A month away with the boy they had officially named as one of the many ruining factors that led to Helene’s latest inclinations was unacceptable for her parents.

So, instead of spending her days lying by the water and feeling the tender ocean breeze on her skin, she had to endure lectures on etiquette and social principles. The already dreaded month had taken a turn for the worse when her parents started talking about the future. More specifically, her future.

While Helene was present for the conversations—although she’d wager that there were many more without her—she wasn’t an active participant. Her parents either spoke with each other, or toward her. The topics would range from what societal appearances would benefit them, to possible betrotheds. That topic had alarmed her the most. Helene felt smaller and smaller the longer her parents talked and the more options they presented.

Hence, while it did seem like this marauders business wouldn’t be good in the long term, she didn’t mind their current shenanigans that much.

When Helene looked to her right, and saw Sirius tackling James for the third time, she realised she did mind a little that it seemed like they had lost the ability to sit still over the summer.

It was the dusk of their return to Hogwarts, and they had all gathered around a bonfire. The next day was a Sunday, so they decided to spend the evening outside, basking in their reunification without the impending threat of school. They weren’t the only ones with that idea, and while the disappearance of the sun cast shadows on the school grounds, the evermore budding pyres shone enough light to turn the nightfall golden.

They had started off with only the four Gryffindor boys, and other classmates had soon joined the four Hufflepuff girls. Two Gryffindor girls who had introduced themselves as Mary MacDonald and Lily Evans giggled to themselves on Helene’s left. Nigel Morris was in deep conversation with Aminah, and Alexander Buttin and Tony Walker seemed to be entranced by James’s and Sirius’s tiff—Glenn had already excused himself to go to bed.

Helene sat with Remus and Peter. The boys were telling her about their summer. It had been Peter’s birthday in July, and his family had celebrated by spending the day at a local amusement centre called the Clacton Pier. His anecdote took a dramatic turn when he revealed that the roller coaster standing on the pier burned down only two weeks after they visited it.

Helene’s heart beat faster at the tale of scorching destruction—and the concept of ‘roller coasters’—but Peter just shrugged her off. He was satisfied with having been able to ride it one last time.

Remus had been rather vague about his summer, but Helene couldn’t really call him out on it, considering she, too, kept her account short. After a while, the two boys had entangled themselves in a discussion about what roller coaster was the best—Peter swore on Belle Vue’s Bobs, while Remus vehemently defended Figure Eighth from the Coney Beach Pleasure Park—Helene wasn’t much interested in the topic, so her gaze strayed back forward.

Over the flames, a pair of familiar eyes greeted her. Regulus was standing a couple of metres away from the group. She hadn’t seen him yet that day, having shared a compartment with her dorm mates. So Helene got up and walked around the fire, meeting Regulus just outside of the glow’s reach.

“How was your ride here?” Regulus’s raven dark hair blended in with the shadow, leaving his pearly grey eyes to stand stark in contrast. Mirroring the Waxing Crescent moon above them, he watched her utterly.

“It was fine. How was yours?” During the summer, their relationship had felt like it always had—how it was supposed to be. When together, nothing else had mattered. There was no concern about the things that had divided them over the last year, and no surroundings tearing them apart. Now, they were back at Hogwarts, and the abyss between them tore agape once more. Helene stood in front of the boy she had known her entire life, but it felt like she was looking at a stranger.

“Fine, as well.” A light breeze ruffled the leaves above them, and Helene could hear the elated voices of her friends behind her. Helene couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stand here with her best friend and simultaneously wish that she was somewhere else. With determination in her eyes, she took his hand in hers. “Do you want to join us?”

It seemed like Regulus took a step back at her idea, but their hold tightened. He sighed and looked up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Be serious, Helena,” he scoffed. “I’m not exactly welcome with your friends.” Regulus wasn’t meeting her eyes, blinking rapidly.

“And who’s at fault for that?” It had slipped out before Helene could stop it, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. She was hurt. A year had passed, and while she had found an entire new world, he wouldn’t even look at it. Helene tugged at their hands, and Regulus moved his head in surprise. “I know you. Please, you’re smart… smarter than this.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Why are you here?”

“What?” His brows furrowed. This time he did take a step back, but Helene wouldn’t let him get away, and crossed the distance between them, leaving them in the same position as before.

“You could have approached me at any point, but you did it while I was with the others.” She paused for a second and realised that it was not only when she was with her friends but also the one instance when Eileen had left the group to get something from the castle.

Regulus put his free hand in his pocket. “I—I don’t… That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t pretend like I’m stupid. Just admit that you want to join. I understand this is difficult, but I can help you. Let me help you,” Helene said. She tugged at his hand again, but this time it was to stop Regulus from rocking on his feet.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” She couldn’t believe him. Helene understood him wholly. She might be the one person who understands it just as much as he does. Well, she and the shadow slowly approaching them. Another pair of grey eyes glanced out from the darkness, and suddenly Sirius stood before them.

Sirius had told Helene that, while in France, he had snuck out to a Muggle town several times. The last time, he had bought the t-shirt—although he had been very dodgy about how he had bought it and with what money—which he was currently wearing. Dirt had stained the shirt, but the reflective writing on it was still visible. Que dit un narcissique en se noyant? “Au secours, moi!” Sirius and James had cracked up over it, but then they started brawling, and the shirt apparently became an afterthought.

Helene couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Time stood still, and the stupid joke was running through her head over and over. Her stomach twisted, and she looked back up in the faces of Regulus and Sirius.

“Is everything okay?” Sirius said it with a laugh, but his voice didn’t quite hit the note of amusement usually to be heard in it.

Helene glanced at Regulus, but he avoided her gaze. “We’re fine,” he answered, neither looking at Helene or Sirius.

She scoffed. “Yes, we’re fine. Everything is fine.” Helene wasn’t sure where all the annoyance suddenly came from. She just knew that it felt like a rope tightened itself around her lungs, and if she didn’t scream it off, she’d choke.

“Woah.” Sirius raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands up. “What happened to the Helene we know, and who are you?”

Tears prickled in her eyes, and before they could see them, she turned and walked away. Helene didn’t want them to see her cry. It wasn’t like she was actually crying. She wasn’t—she was just frustrated.

It only took a couple of steps until the sound of scrambling feet followed her. Helene sped up, but Sirius with his long legs caught up to her in no time, with Regulus not far behind. “Oh, Lenny, come on. It was just a joke.” He overtook her and forced her to stop. She tried to wipe her cheeks with her sleeve before they could notice her tears, but it was too late. Sirius’s smile dropped. Regulus raised his arm as if to put it around her, but then dropped it again, his eyes darting across her face.

Helene exhaled slowly. She made to turn her body away from them, but Sirius grasped her shoulders, so she put her hands in front of her face. She didn’t want to see them, and most importantly, she didn’t want them to see her. Sirius wasn’t satisfied by that and pulled her hands down. His thumbs were gently rubbing her palms, and Helene thought she might throw up.

“Can you just—” She ripped her hands out of his and stepped back. The two brothers wore a matching set of confused expressions. A mocking gasp escaped Helene’s mouth. “I mean… What are you two going to do, huh? What’s the plan here? Who is ultimately going to give in?” Once she had started, she couldn’t stop herself. Words were spilling from her tongue, like water from a burst dam. “You wanna know what the outcome of all this will be? Nothing! It all goes back to normal. You go back to your family, Sirius, and they will choose to ignore your little rebellion; chalk it up to temporary insanity, or something. They need an heir, after all.

“And—and who else would it be? It won’t be Regulus, not in a thousand lifetimes. No, they will drag you back into their ranks.” Sirius, who had turned ashen, opened his mouth, but Helene wouldn’t let him get a word in. Unfamiliar rage had clouded her mind, and she knew that her next words would go too far, but any sense had left her. She continued, “And you will let them.”

A heavy, uncomfortable silence engulfed them. The shine of the moon couldn’t make its way through the thick branches hanging above them, shadows taking over the scene. The only light came from two bonfires in the distance, red scorching, glaring at Helene. A sole tear rolled down her cheek, and she watched as it fell and hit the ground. Her shoulders dropped.

“Can you just do us all a favour and not drag it out any longer?” At this point, her voice wasn’t more than a whisper. Helene didn’t dare look up, too scared to see their reactions. She wrapped her arms across her chest and turned away; this time, Sirius didn’t stop her.

After a couple of seconds, Sirius walked away.

Helene dug her fingers into her arms. The ground was swaying under her feet, and she needed something to hold on to. She inhaled sharply. Helene felt the red eyes staring into her soul, and it took everything in her not to stare back.

A gentle voice broke her out of her paralysis. “Come on.” As Regulus ambled past her, he trailed a finger down the arm of her thin robes. When he reached the end, he gave the fabric a soft tug, and then let go of it. Helene didn’t know where he would lead her, but without hesitation she went with him. Every couple of steps their hands would brush, and she felt the warmth of his hand.

Regulus lead them to the shore of the Black Lake, and they settled down on one of the many large rocks. They hadn’t spoken while walking and their silence persisted now that they were sitting. The many magical creatures housed in the lake made splashing sounds, and the moonlight made the water glimmer.

“My parents are already evaluating options for another betrothal.”

Helene felt Regulus tense up next to her. He turned his head to face her, eyes wide. “I… Who are they considering?”

“I don’t know. They haven’t shared any names with me. But they have made it clear that I have limited my options, so I should be grateful for whatever match they make.” Helene felt her eyes fill with tears again.

“What… what does that mean? Do they mean a less favourable ancestry, or an inferior fortune, or what?”

“I doubt that; I still have my family name. From what I have gathered, there is still interest in me, even from the noble families.” Helene was fidgeting with her necklace. It was a gold chain holding a citrine lavaliere. It had been a gift from her grandmother Mimi for her sixth birthday. At the memory of Mimi, she had to dig her nails into the palm of her hands.

Mimi had been her favourite relative ever since she was a child. She had been an eccentric and superstitious woman, always proclaiming something with enough confidence to convince Helene without fail, no matter how outlandish. (They only ever disagreed about the li—) When Mimi died at only 63, it devastated Helene. The rest of her family had never held the love for her the way that Helene did, so when she died, not much changed. The funeral was short, and the widower, her grandfather Oswald, stood stoically by while his late wife was buried. Mimi had always talked about wanting to be cremated.

“Hey.” Regulus reached for her hand, and Helene relaxed her hand. Four crescent marks had been dug into her palm. This time, he clasped her hand in his. “Don’t do that.” He paused for a second and then tilted his head. “Isn’t what you said good? They haven’t completely ostracized you. What are your parents worried about?”

Helene twisted her mouth in something that might have resembled a smile, and said, “I don’t think they’re worried. It’s my punishment.”

“Your punishment?” Regulus laughed. “What torture it is, to marry rich and aristocratic.”

“Rich and old. Aristocratic and vicious.”

“Oh.”

She sighed. A light breeze made her hair fly, and Helene thought about jumping into the lake. To feel the cool water consume her, and then to dive into the great depth until she was forever lost in the quietness.

Que dit un narcissique en se noyant? “Au secours, moi!”

“And there is nothing you can do? What if… I—We… I mean…” Their eyes met and Regulus stopped speaking. A shiver ran down Helene’s spine, and she couldn’t reply. But it didn’t matter; it wouldn’t happen. Her parents wouldn’t settle for a second born, and his couldn’t afford anymore relatives with questionable beliefs. She shook her head, and Regulus nodded. “Yeah, I know… I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

Helene smiled at Regulus, and he mirrored the gesture. For a while, they just sat there, hand in hand, looking at the water and the evermore appearing stars, scattered across the night sky. Helene’s breath evened, and the warmth radiating from Regulus cleared her head.

“Will you join me at the bonfire?”

A brief pause, and then, “Yes.”

They got up and walked back through the darkness, not letting go of one another. Once they arrived back at the fire, they split up. Regulus walked over to his brother, who waved at him excitedly. Eileen had returned while she was gone, so Helene made her way over to the girl.

Eileen had cut her hair over the summer into a what she called pageboy cut; shoulder length with bangs laying along her forehead. She was standing near the fire accompanied by Pandora, handing out candy.

Once she spotted Helene approaching her, an enormous grin appeared on her face. “Ah, Helene, perfect timing. We found everything we need to make s’mores. C’mere, you’ll love ‘em.”

“What are s’mores?” Helene asked.

“They’re these cracking snacks you eat with your friends while sitting around a fire. My brother introduced me to ‘em while we were camping. I ate so many I spent the entire night honking.” While Helene didn’t think that that sounded like a great memory, Eileen’s eyes shone while talking. “First, roast a marshmallow. Best way to do that is by skewering it on a stick and holding it over the fire. Then, when it’s all gooey, you have to very carefully transport the marshmallow from on the stick to between two chocolate digestives. The heat of the marshmallow will melt the chocolate, and while it’s a bloody mess to eat, my God does it taste smashing.”

Helene wasn’t convinced about the Muggle recipe, but she trusted Eileen and her sweet tooth enough to follow along with her and Pandora when preparing it. Eileen and her split away from the ever-growing group of student swilling to try a s’more, to collect enough sticks for everybody.

When they had collected a handful each, Helene made to walk back, but Eileen stopped her. “Your friend is sitting with us.”

Helene’s heart skipped a beat. Eileen didn’t have to elaborate on who she was talking about. Feeling relieved that Regulus had joined them made Helene forget about what her friends might think about it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping Eileen believed her.

“Why are you apologising?” Over the school year, Helene had noticed a very frustrating habit of Eileen’s. For more serious topics, the girl would adapt a monotonous voice, not indicating what she herself believed. She had used that voice now, and Helene fiddled with her necklace again.

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” Remus had told her that, when in doubt, it was a good question to ask.

Eileen hesitated, and then sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. I probably should, but it’s… complicated,” she said. “I guess I pity him, but then I feel weird about pitying him, because he’s a spoiled, conceited boy, and I’m… well, this.” At that, she pointed at herself.

Helene didn’t know what to say. She wanted to reassure Eileen that what she thought made sense, but in truth, Helene did not know if it did. She grew up like Regulus, she was living like Regulus, and until recently, she thought like Regulus.

But… she didn’t want to be like Regulus. Not anymore. (Mostly)

“If you want me to, I’ll ask him to leave.” Helene’s voice was thin, but steady. Eileen looked up at that, eyes wide.

“Would you?”

“Yes.” What was meant as a statement came out more as a question, and Helene scrunched up her nose. “I would go with him, I wouldn’t… I don’t think I’d tell him to leave.”

“What if I’d want you to stay?” Eileen tilted her head, and her voice once again took on the sound of a neutral observer, not that of an active, polarising factor.

Words fled Helene, and her mouth went dry. She didn’t answer.

“I want you to stay,” Eileen said after a while. “He can, too. But he has to eat a s’more.” She said the last part in a voice that sounded way more serious than the silly request needed.

Helene nodded. “He will. I’ll make sure of it.”

As they’re walking back, matching conspiratorial smiles were gracing their faces. They handed out the sticks to the group of students waiting for them. Regulus—standing close to Sirius—was there, too. Helene handed him a stick.

“Oh, no, thank you. I don’t want—”

“You will try one. It’s the least you can do.” Regulus’s eyebrows furrowed, but seeing the look in her eyes, he nodded his head.

Suddenly, Eileen appeared next to them. She was holding a bag of marshmallows in one hand and a stick in the other. “Here, take one.” She held the bag out to Helene, and after she had grabbed one, to Regulus. The boy had tensed up a bit at the arrival of Eileen, but after a strained second, he, too, grabbed a marshmallow. “You won’t regret this; these are my favourite Muggle snacks.” Eileen was sporting a large smirk, but her eyes were steady on Regulus.

“Yes,” Regulus said, paused, and then hastily added, “My cousin had the same haircut as you.”

“What?” Eileen seemed so surprised, she let out a genuine laugh. Helene was confused as well. She was pretty sure she knew which cousin he was talking about, and the casual mention wasn’t something his family would agree with.

It looked like Regulus had even surprised himself. His mouth hung open before he quickly shut it and composed himself. “She wore her hair a bit shorter the last time I saw her, in a similar favourable style as yours. Her hair is much lighter, though.”

“Favourable? Are you saying that my hair looks beautiful?” Eileen lifted an eyebrow.

“Huh? No… I didn’t say that,” he sputtered.

“So, you’re saying my hair looks ugly?”

“No! I definitely didn’t say that.” A deep blush appeared on Regulus’s pale face.

“So, you are saying that it looks good?” Watching the dialogue between Regulus and Eileen was fascinating to Helene. While a bit timid, Regulus in general was a proud person. The only one able to discompose him in an instance was Sirius, and he was family. However, with only two conversations, Eileen had gained the same knack.

Regulus hesitated, and it was as if Helene could hear him ponder over what to say. His eyes, narrowed, roved over Eileen’s face. She noticed when he decided on what to say, by how he straightened himself up. As he opened his mouth, his eyes held an audacious glint. “Andromeda always had a decent sense of style. It’s a fine hairdo, and it suits you.”

Eileen narrowed her eyes, but nodded slowly. Then she let out a light hum and shook her head. “Alright. Roast your marshmallow, and then eat a s’more,” she said, and with a wink in Helene’s direction, walked away.

As they turned to the fire, placing their marshmallows on the sticks, Helene tried to hide her smile from Regulus. He must have noticed though, since he lightly elbowed her in the side. Standing next to each other, Helene watched Sirius across the fire. He was throwing biscuits at James and Peter, who tried their best—but failed—at catching them in their mouths. At the sight of the unruly Black, she remembered Regulus’s earlier words.

“Have you heard anything from her?” she asked.

“Yes, she wrote Sirius a letter, and he showed it to me.” He cleared his throat. “She had the child. It’s a girl, and she named her Nymphadora.” Regulus’s eyes looked glassy, reflecting the glow of the fire.  

“That’s a pretty name.”

“It is.” He paused. “Andy’s going to be an exceptional mother.”

They remained that way, standing side by side in silence. When their marshmallows turned a light brown, they got two chocolate digestives each, and with a bit of a struggle and a lot of hesitation, they were able to construct s’mores. They bit in at the same time, and the sweet taste of chocolate and the gooey sensation of the marshmallow melted on Helene’s tongue.

It tasted incredible, and seeing Regulus’s wide eyes, she was sure he enjoyed it as well. They ate quickly to make sure that the chocolate didn’t drip down on their fingers. Once finished, Regulus took Helene’s hand, and pulled her over to Sirius.

Sirius had stopped throwing biscuits in favour of eating them instead. Peter and James sat next to him while Remus had wandered over to the two Gryffindor girls. The three boys noticed them approach but didn’t comment on it. Regulus settled down next to Sirius and pulled Helene down with him.

“Ay, Helene, Regulus, have you tried these s’mo-ores things?” James asked, bending forward to look past Peter and Sirius.

They both nodded in agreement, and James continued talking with Peter and Sirius about his new strategy on how to get on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Regulus seemed content listening to the three boys talk, but Helene couldn’t sit still. After a couple of minutes, she got up and walked to Eileen, who was talking to Tony Walker. Helene knew the two were good friends, mainly based on Eileen’s ability to talk incessantly, which was a pleasant contrast to Tony, who sometimes struggled with a stutter and therefore mostly kept quiet.

Tony acknowledged Helene with a nod, and Eileen dug her finger in her cheek without looking up. Helene waved her hand away and collected what she came for. Walking back to the four boys, she skewered the marshmallow on a stick. Regulus looked at her curiously but said nothing as she prepared and constructed another s’more.

It was a bit messier than the first time, and Helene accidentally touched the marshmallow, burning her finger. But it looked good, and it smelled delicious, so she turned to the side, and after a second of hesitation, tapped on Sirius’s back.

Sirius, who had previously been listening to Peter and James arguing about the top ten fantastical creatures, looked over his shoulder. When he met her eyes, Helene held out her hand, holding the s’more. His forehead wrinkled, and he stared at Helene. The more time passed without Sirius taking it, the more she faltered.

Just as she was about to pull her hand back, he held his own hand out. A weight lifted off her chest, and as she handed the treat over, Sirius chuckled. He took an exaggerated bite, but had underestimated the heat. His mouth was barely closed, before he spit out the food, coughing and flapping his arms. At his wild movements, the s’more flew out of his hand, landing a couple of meters away in the grass.

James and Peter broke out in laughter, and Regulus, too, chuckled. Sirius walked over to the s’more, but when he lifted it, it was covered in dirt and grass. At that, James and Peter laughed even more, and Sirius threw it at them. The two boys dodged it, and it landed in the bonfire. After that, Helene didn’t pay it anymore attention, her eyes focused on Sirius. It hadn’t really gone the way she had hoped, but the boy was smiling from ear to ear, and as he sat down, he gave Helene a light shove.

“It’s the thought that counts,” he said, and shrugged.

The evening ended soon, with only several piles of ash remaining, as the students of Hogwarts returned to their familiar dorms. It was a new year, and as the moon stood high in the sky, the students fell into a slumber, dreaming of what’s to come.

Chapter Text

Halloween 1973 started off with a bang.

Literally.

The explosion that happened Wednesday mornings could be heard throughout the castle; perhaps even throughout all of Scotland.

Helene—who had until that moment eaten her oatmeal peacefully—jumped so hard, she dropped her spoon. Aminah accidentally hit Pandora in the face, and Eileen even toppled over the bench, landing on the floor. The students around them didn’t fare much better. The clatter of cutlery, along with the smash of porcelain, followed the bang.

Afterward, silence. It was as if the entire population of Hogwarts held its breath for a couple of seconds. Then the smoke appeared. Dark billows rose from the ground, enveloping the hall, and eclipsing any and all light.

The sudden loss of sight was enough to galvanise the students, who began screaming and pushing toward the exit. Helene pulled Eileen up by her elbow, and then the crowd propelled them both forward. Helene didn’t know what was going on, and her heart was pounding. The smoke was so thick, she could barely make out Eileen next to her; she pulled the girl closer.

A rasping cough crawled its way up Helene’s throat, and tears stung in her eyes. All she could focus on was getting out of there and not losing Eileen. She was Helene’s anchor in all the chaos, and Helene would have guessed that she was also Eileen’s.

Through the chaos, Professor Dumbledore’s sagacious voice sounded, but no one reacted. Suddenly, Eileen stumbled. She had tripped over an abandoned bag, and while Helene tried, she wasn’t able to stabilise her. Eileen went down and pulled Helene with her. Her knees hit the ground hard, but before the student behind them could trample the two, Eileen pulled Helene with her under the table.

They huddled together. Their intertwined hands laid between them, and Helene wasn’t sure who was shaking more.

A yell forced itself over the commotion, and in a flash, all the smoke was gone. The screams dimmed down, and Professor Dumbledore spoke calmy, “Students, please, there is no need for alarm or hullabaloo. While I can’t yet tell you the source of all this, I can assure you it is of no danger to you. Hogwarts stands safe and protected and I will always ensure that it stays that way. Now, sit down and continue with your breakfast. If you haven’t done so already, try the mini croissants.” With that, the old man turned around and sat back down, the rest of the teachers following along, albeit hesitantly.

Helene and Eileen looked at each other. Eileen took a deep breath and exhaled a quiet titter. “C’mon,” she said, and crawled out from under the table, Helene in tow. The rest of the students—most of who had left the Great Hall—returned to their seats. Some laughed, some talked, but a majority was silent. Pandora had slung an arm around Aminah, who was looking around wide eyed.

“Are you okay?” Helene asked, when Aminah and Pandora sat down in front of her. Pandora smiled and nodded. Aminah let out a sound of agreement and then looked down at her bowl and continued eating.

Helene looked to her right and caught Eileen’s eyes. She lifted her eyebrows, but Eileen shook her head. “Give her a second,” she whispered.

While Helene wasn’t certain, she listened to Eileen; the girl hadn’t been wrong yet. Helene had always considered herself emotionally intelligent, and although that was still true in some respects, she realised that most people had different upbringings.

Helene had been raised around boys, and more importantly, she had been raised to not just respect those boys as her betters, but to provide for them however they desired. Boys didn’t talk about their feelings, so she had to ask. Boys didn’t admit weakness, so she had to support.

Helene was a good at being a wife and mother; As it turns out, being a friend was neither of those.

When Helene asked Eileen why this was all so new to her, the girl just replied by telling her that it was because Helene never had any friends. Although it was a joking statement, it gnawed at Helene over the next couple of days.

It had to be wrong. Of course, she had friends. But then why couldn’t she think of any?

There were the many acquaintances she made at gatherings and festivities, but those were fleeting, and never based on equal interest. At festivities, she was never alone, because she was the heiress of a renowned bloodline, not because people wanted to get to know her.

The realisation that Eileen was right, that Helene didn’t have any friends, stung deep in her chest.

Sure, there were Sirius and Regulus, but that was different. Their relationship built upon their parent’s arrangement, and Sirius hadn’t been her friend, but her betrothed. Now, he wasn’t that anymore, but giving him a fleeting title such as ‘friend’ felt wrong, too. Especially after what had happened over the last year.

And Regulus… he had always been something. Naturally, he was less important than his brother, but he was, without a doubt, more than a friend.

The three of them had spent their life together, and the bond between them felt beyond explanations.

So, Helene had to come to turn with the fact that having friends was an unfamiliar experience for her. Looking at her three dorm mates, she thought it might not matter that much; she had them now.

Helene looked past Aminah, trying to spot Regulus at the Slytherin table. When she found the dark-haired boy, he was already looking at her. He sat with a straight spine, hands folded before him on the table. Regulus raised his eyebrows in question, and Helene nodded. A look of relief crossed his face, and he nodded back when she raised her eyebrows.

Helene had to stifle a giggle at the action, and Regulus, too, grinned. Over the years—and long boring dinners—they had perfected the art of nonverbal communication. Sometimes Helene thought they might understand each other more when they weren’t talking.

The boy sitting next to Regulus leaned forward and started speaking to him, and Helene picked up her spoon, ready to finish her breakfast. The spoon had just touched her lips when she felt a tug at the back of her robes. Helene threw a quick glance over her shoulder but saw nothing, so she chalked it up to her imagination. She tried to continue eating, but another sharp tug halted her movements. After another second, she felt a steady but frantic tapping on her back. A slap followed the tapping, and Helene jolted forward.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and someone behind her sighed. The girls looked confused, but Helene just stammered out an excuse about having forgotten a book, and then hasted out of the Great Hall. Once the heavy doors fell closed behind her, someone yanked on her arm, dragging her down the corridor. While the person was invisible, Helene was quite certain about who it might be. Or, at least, she could narrow it down to four people. They turned another corner, where the pale faces of Remus, Peter, and James greeted Helene. Sirius threw off the invisibility cloak and released Helene’s arm. He wore a matching, concerned look.

Before Helene could open her mouth, Peter stepped forward. “Are we expelled?”

“Huh?” The question caught her so off guard, Helene almost started laughing, but seeing Peter’s wide eyes, and hunched shoulders, she refrained herself. “What are you talking about?”

“Are we expelled?” Remus asked, and a sinking feeling began in Helene’s chest. The normally calm Remus was running his arms over his chest repeatedly, and his voice was filled with desperation.

“My parents are going to kill me,” James moaned. He paced back and forth, stopped, laughed hysterically, and then continued pacing.

“Your parents? My parents are going to kill me.” While Sirius tried to sound like he was joking, Helene saw the way he was twisting the signet ring on his left pinkie finger. “If I’m going down, I am taking all of you with me.”

“What does that even mean?” Remus asked.

“I will kill you all,” Sirius said, and his voice had lost all its humour. “If I get killed by my parents because of you tossers, I will rise from my grave and drag you with me to heaven.”

“Hell,” Peter corrected.

“I’m an optimist.” Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, my point stands.”

“Hold on,” Remus said. “What do you mean, because of us? This was your idea?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. Yours and James.” Peter pointed at the bespectacled boy, who was still pacing in small circles.

He now stopped, and with a forlorn look, nodded his head. “I’ll go with you to heaven, mate.”

“Hell!” Peter shouted.

“He’s an optimist, too,” Sirius said, throwing an arm around James.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Helene threw her arms in the air. Every interaction with any combination of the four boys always took twice as long as it normally should. The four would lose the focus of the conversation and start banter between them. They dragged her here, and now they were practically ignoring her in favour of bickering between one another. Although, from what she had caught of their outlandish exchange, she had a pretty good guess as to what they were talking about.

The boys stopped and turned toward her. All of a sudden, none of them wanted to talk anymore. Helene sighed and ran a hand over her face. She didn’t want to ask them about it, and she certainly didn’t want to hear their answer. But the genuinely anxious faces looking back at her left her with no choice.

“Are you four responsible for what just happened in the Great Hall?” The whisper broke through the quiet of the chilly morning air. None of the boys reacted. They stood stock-still, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes,” James said.

From what Helene knew about James’s family, she figured Sirius was right. His parents had always been described as nice people. They were older than most parents by about two decades, but made sure that James lacked in nothing he could ever desire. One hour with the boy was enough to realise that he was raised as not only a very beloved child, but as the centre of the universe. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter would not kill James. They wouldn’t hurt him in any way.

James had nothing to worry about. He was rich, loved, and had the backing of generations of deep running affiliations with high-ranking people from across the world. No, Helene recognised that while James was, of course, concerned about the consequences of his actions, the sheer nervousness radiating off him wasn’t for himself, but for his three friends who would fare much worse if they were caught.

“How did you… Why would you… what happened?” Helene asked, sighing at the reluctant faces before her. She didn’t like this. The boy had been causing more and more mischief over the last couple of months, and their pranks were only escalating.

Most were harmless, like turning the soup purple, or handing out papers with random (made up) facts about their professors written on them. But every now and then, they took it a bit too far. Three weeks ago, they barricaded the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon, or at the beginning of the school year they had spent a day hexing the tie of every student they came across, changing the colour.

Sirius had assured Helene that it was all in good fun, and that it wasn’t really meanspirited, but she didn’t quite believe him. It seemed that the Slytherins fell victim to their pranks more often than any other house, and that its students were always treated just a bit harsher than any other. The boys were especially focused on one student, a black-haired, scraggy second-year called Snape. When Helene asked them about it, Sirius and James laughed it off, and told her that it didn’t matter, and that he deserved it.

All of it didn’t quite sit right with Helene.

Remus eyes darted from side to side. “I think it’d be best if we talk outside.”

“It’s cold outside,” Helene said, and frowned.

“You’ll survive,” Sirius said. He put his hand on her back and shoved her forward. The five made their way outside into the South Courtyard. The sun had already started shining, albeit without radiating any warmth. A stiff breeze made Helene’s hair flutter around her head, and she hugged her arms to her body to protect herself from the bitter sting provided by the autumn morning.

The group stopped in the middle of the courtyard. The surrounding trees had already lost most of their leaves, turning the grass into a mosaic of orange and brown. James stuffed both his hands deep into his pockets, while Peter rubbed his together, occasionally blowing on them.

Class would start in a little while, and Helene wasn’t planning on disappointing Pomona by being late. She cleared her throat and looked expectantly at the boys.

Remus sighed and started explaining. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. We thought the smoke would be red.”

“Red?”

“Yeah, y’know, like Gryffindor,” Peter said.

“We also didn’t know that it would be so loud. It was a diversion spell. We found it in an old book. It seemed harmless enough and was described as cardinal.” Remus shrugged and looked down.

“Why didn’t you try the spell beforehand?” Helene asked. She wanted to be upset with the boys, and while she definitely wasn’t happy with what they had done, they looked so lost standing in the barren courtyard, all avoiding eye contact, that she couldn’t bring herself to feel truly angry.

James sucked in a breath and exhaled an attempted at a laugh. “We only found the spell yesterday and came up with the plan in the night.”

That level of carelessness startled Helene. The spell could have been anything. They had been lucky it was only a scare and not anything worse. She was stunned into silence. Sirius had always pushed boundaries, but his behaviour only seemed to escalate.

On their own, the four boys were reasonable enough, (some more, some less), but together it seemed as if they lost all rationality. It was Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter against the word and nothing or no one would stand in their way, consequences be damned.

“How could you be so reckless?” No one answered. Another breeze blew, stirring the barren twigs of the trees, hurtling the cold deep into her bones. Autumn had arrived as vicious as ever, and winter was approaching at an alarming rate. For a brief moment, she hated Sirius for dragging her out of the castle, out of the warmth. “What do you want me to do about this?”

The silence that followed her question was unsettling. It was rhetorical. She didn’t think that they wanted her to do anything. Seeing the looks on their faces, Helene realised that she should have known better.

While Peter and James kept their gazes to the ground, Remus was pointedly looking at Sirius. His eyes narrowed. Sirius met his gaze, and whatever silent argument they had, he lost it.

He poked Helene’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“I need to go to class,” Helene said, and followed Sirius, leaving the others behind.

“I know,” he said, and slung an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll walk you.”

Normally, Helene would have liked that. Today it felt off. They entered the castle again, and she twisted out from under his arm. Surprised, Sirius turned his head, but upon seeing her face, closed his mouth. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“We need you to return the book to the library.” His grey eyes mirrored the cloudy sky, and Helene thought that they looked a little too boundless. She bit her lip, looking away.

“Why can’t one of you do it?” She would do it. Of course, she would do it. Helene just wanted to make sure that they only asked her because they didn’t have another choice. She hoped that the reassurance would eradicate that sinking feeling in her stomach.

Sirius looked away. Helene knew that he knew that she would do it. No matter what, she would always help him. “The professors aren’t stupid; they probably already know what spell it was and where one could find it. If they have realised that the book is gone, we need to be in their line of sight when it reappears. Our reputation is starting to build, and we can’t give them any reason to suspect us of doing this.”

“But you did do it,” Helene mumbled.

“Yeah.” Sirius grinned, but his arm stayed wrapped around his torso, his shoulders slumped.

A couple of students hasted past them. They were older, at least fifth year. What would she be like at that age? What would Sirius be?

“Doesn’t this scare you?”

“Does what scare me?”

“That you need an alibi.”

Sirius didn’t answer. They walked the rest of the way to the greenhouses in silence. Once they arrived, Sirius turned toward her. With wide eyes, he was staring at her. She wasn’t sure if it was an apology for what he had done, for what he was asking her to do, or for what he was planning to do in the future. Perhaps it wasn’t even an apology at all.

Without another word, he walked away, and Helene was glad he hadn’t asked her again. They both knew her answer, and it felt cruel to pretend they didn’t.

She walked into the greenhouse and fell into her seat. Regulus looked at her, but Helene didn’t say anything. He nodded and turned back forward. A small smile formed on Helene’s lips.

“Oh,” Regulus uttered. He bend down, and retrieved her schoolbag from under the table, handing it to her. “Your friend… Eileen brought it with her. She said that you left it at breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Helene turned around, spotting Eileen near the back next to Aminah. The two girls were laughing, but when Aminah’s eyes wandered toward the front and she spotted Helene, she elbowed Eileen in the side.

When the girl was looking at her, Helene mouthed a quick thank you. Eileen responded with an exaggerated shoulder shrug, followed by wild movements with her arms as she pretended to throw away Helene’s gratitude. Aminah had to force down the frantic arms before they could hurt anyone, and Eileen looked so offended by the gesture, Helene had to giggle.

She turned back in her seat and saw that while Regulus had stayed forward during the interaction, he, too, wore a smile. She bumped her shoulder into his, and he looked at her. Like his brothers’, his eyes caged the heavens. But where Sirius’s were infinite, Regulus’s were veiled.

Pomona entered the classroom, and the lesson began. Halfway through, Regulus took her hand into his, and squeezed it. He let go after that, and both pretended like it didn’t happen. Outside, the sun peeked through the clouds, shining the last warm rays of the year.

*

The soft material of the invisibility cloak brushed against Helene’s hands, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She clutched the book she was holding closer to her chest, as she slowly made her way through the ancient halls of Hogwarts. James had told her once that walking around invisible was an incredible feeling of freedom and possibilities; Helene just felt unsettled.

It was the lunch time when the four Gryffindors had approached Helene. James was holding the cloak, and Peter was holding a timeworn book titled Prodigious spells of 4000 BCE, latest edition. They handed both over, avoiding eye contact as best as they could. Afterwards, they hasted inside the Great Hall, where they would stay until Helene had returned the book. That left Sirius and Remus in the hallway with her.

Sirius had looked as uncomfortable as Helene felt. With only some reassurance, he left as well. It seemed that Remus wanted to say something, but Helene didn’t feel like talking, so she pulled the cloak over her head, and made her way toward the library.

Every step she took was meticulous, and still she had already almost run into several students. She couldn’t imagine how the boys did it, especially when what they told her was true, and they often snuck around, covering all four of them with the cloak.

She turned another corner and almost ran into another person. Helene quickly darted left, but when she looked up and saw who was standing in front of her, her breath faltered.

Professor Dumbledore stood there, not moving, looking over her head out of the window. In the grey hallway, his bright purple robes made him a beacon, and his long white beard, so long it reached the floor, flowed freely. With a start, Helene realised that she was standing on it.

Just as she lifted her foot as gentle as possible off the headmaster’s facial hair, he began to speak, and Helene feared she would have a heart attack. “What a nice day for a stroll through the castle. I myself have always been extremely partial to long hours of pleasant solitude. But it is important to remember that most walks are much easier with a sense of camaraderie.” The old man stopped, and his eyes twinkled with knowledge Helene couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “And, perhaps, a better understanding of the circumstances of those around us.”

While he was talking, the professor’s gaze stayed focused on the window, a smile playing on his lips. He made a sound of contentment, and carried on, on his way, muttering into his beard about something that sounded suspiciously like pudding.

Helene was frozen in place. She didn’t understand what had just happened. He knew she was there. He even knew about the prank. Still, he let her go without any talk of punishment. Whilst Helene couldn’t wrap her head around the reasoning behind the professor’s actions, she continued marching to the library in a hurry, before he could change his mind and come back for her.

Once she arrived, it didn’t take long to find the right placement for the book. She shoved it into the bookshelf, and without looking back, ran out of the library. Helene didn’t stop running all the way to the Great Hall. It was a wonder she didn’t collide with another student, but her head was too full to think about being careful.

Seeing the large open doors of the Great Hall, she slowed down. How was she supposed to notify the boys? Sirius’s approach seemed impossible, considering students were partially blocking the path between the tables. Not to mention the Gryffindor house was a lot more physically expressive. Being accidentally hit by a flaying arm from an overexcited Gryffindor wasn’t uncommon, and the student population had quickly adapted a sense of caution while walking past the table.

Helene’s head was still spinning, and she just wanted to end this whole situation. So, without thinking about it too much, she walked to the nearest floor candelabra and pushed it over.

She had hoped for a bigger reaction. Most students didn’t even glance in her direction, only continuing with what they were doing. Just as Helene was getting frustrated—ready to push over something else—there was a rousing at the Gryffindor table. In a manner of seconds, Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus all got up from the table, yelling out a variety of excuses.

Helene was about to turn around when she noticed something behind the boys. Well, someone. Professor Dumbledore sat on his throne at the High Table, but instead of eating his food like the rest of the staff, he was looking at her. Helene turned, looking for something the professor might be focused on, but there was nothing behind her. It was just her. His eyes didn’t wander. They stayed on her, and if she didn’t know any better, Helene would have thought that he was even maintaining eye contact.

However, before she could think about it any longer, the boys trailed past her, very suspiciously looking around, trying to spot where she was. Quickly she followed them out of the Great Hall, and away from the watchful eyes of the headmaster.

In the corridor, she grabbed Sirius’s arm and pulled him with her. He yelped, but collected himself hastily, motioning for the others to follow them. Helene didn’t lead them far. She only walked around a couple of corners before she stopped and ripped the cloak off of her.

“The book is back in the library,” she said.

The sense of relief was immediate; shoulders dropped, and faces lit up. Peter laughed and slumped against the wall. “Blimey, Helene. We owe you.” The others agreed with him, and Helene smiled. While she didn’t like doing it, it seemed it had been worth it.

She handed the cloak back to James, who tucked it close to his chest. “Thanks, Nell. If you ever need to borrow the cloak, just ask. Or, better yet, we’ll give you some lessons with it, so that next time you will be flawless at sneaking around.”

James offered it friendly enough, but Helene could only blink. Next time? Sirius must have noticed the look on her face, because he jumped in. “There won’t be a next time, mate. If you want to, we can teach you to sneak around, Lenny. But only if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it.” Helene knew that she’d most likely not take them up on the offer. Nevertheless, it was a kind, and she saw that Sirius was trying.

Sirius, James, and Peter soon left. Their next class started soon, and all three had forgotten to take their books with them from the Great Hall. That left Remus once again behind.

“Are you done with Treasure Island?” Remus had been shocked when he had realised that she didn’t know what a pirate was. So, the next book he had supplied her with was what he described as ‘the perfect adventurous overview on the topic’. He had been right. Helene had enjoyed the story a lot and had made it a new goal in life to meet an actual pirate.

Helene told him that she had finished it, and Remus pulled another book out of his bag, handing it over.

She looked at the cover and paused. It was a beautiful painting depicting a luscious green jungle with a group of people walking through it. The book looked like another adventure story, and it wasn’t like Remus to give her two similar books in a row. Then again, the title seemed bizarre.

“Lord of the flies?”

“Yeah,” Remus chuckled. “I know it’s a bit on the nose, but I figured it would be an interesting read for you.”

She hummed and placed the book into her bag. Remus had intrigued her now, and she couldn’t wait to open the book later.

Silence settled between them. Transfiguration class would start soon, but Helene didn’t want to leave just yet. And considering Remus, too, stayed in place, she figured he felt similar.

“Helene?” he asked, disrupting the quiet. She looked up at him and saw that his face was scrunched. “I’m sorry we made you do this.”

“You don’t have to apologise; you didn’t make me do anything.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Remus murmured. “The others are sorry as well.”

“Are they?” Remus and Helene both pretended like it wasn’t hope sounding in her voice, but just curiosity.

“In their own ways.” He grimaced. Helene figured he was probably right.

Helene didn’t like the way Remus was looking at her. She didn’t want to think about it anymore, so she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I think Professor Dumbledore can see through the cloak.”

“What?”

Briefly, Helene explained to him what had happened. When she was done, Remus seemed as befuddled as she felt.

“Maybe he could feel the magic coming off the cloak.”

“Is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But if someone could do it, it would be Professor Dumbledore.”

Remus’s explanation sounded logically enough, but there was one flaw with it. “Then how did he know it was me under there?”

“Well, did he know it was you? Maybe he thought he was talking to one of us.” Remus shrugged, and she could see that he was satisfied with the explanation.

They said goodbye after that, both now having to hurry to get to class on time. Later, when she lied in bed, her thoughts once again circled around her interaction with the headmaster. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Remus was wrong. The professor had known who was under the cloak and had specifically spoken to her.

Perhaps that was a narcissistic thought. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

Helene reached over to her nightstand and grabbed Lord of the flies. She opened the book and started reading.

Chapter Text

“If we run as fast as we can, we might be able to escape.”

“You think?”

“Maybe. It would definitely be more fun than this.”

Helene had to agree with Sirius. But then again, he could have said anything else, and she would have still agreed. Everything would be better than what they were already doing. She sighed and looked down at the glass in her hand.

“We’d never get away,” Helene said. In a quick motion, she took a sip of her drink, letting the bubbly and slightly acidic taste of champagne linger on her tongue before swallowing it.

It was the annual Lestranges winter solstice soirée. About a hundred wizards and witches from all around the world attended the exclusive event every year, and sadly, this year, Helene had to attend again as well. She had arrived back home for the winter break, finding a festive dress floating in her room, waiting for her. It was dove blue-grey with sloping shoulders and a full bell-shaped skirt. The bertha was made of white lace, which also decorated the skirt along with some delicate white ribbons. It was a beautiful dress, and Helene hated how much she loved it.

Getting ready for the soirée had been tedious work. Her mother wouldn’t let Helene leave the room before making sure not a hair was out of place, and the usage of various creams, potions and powders was needed to achieve that. With several combs and years of experiences, her mother tied Helene’s hair up, leaving a cascade of ringlets fall in front of her shoulders. The hairdo was crowned with an inwoven band of gardenias.

Once everything was finished, Helene was able to look into a mirror. She looked beautiful, but the longer she stared at herself, the more the person before her warped and mangled itself into something else. Something that could barely be called a person, though she wasn’t sure what it was. A queasy feeling settled in her stomach.

The feeling stayed with her the during their entrance, and only amplified when she looked into the many faces staring at her. For the next three hours, Helene was handed around, from person to person. Polite greetings, coquettish behaviour, fleeting touches, and made-up tales. Her parents stayed close, observing everything, and passing her on once they were satisfied. There was a peculiar atmosphere omnipresent over the evening; a modest anticipation, although Helene didn’t know what for.

By the time Sirius found her, Helene’s feet were aching, and her skin was crawling. So, when no one looked, Helene and Sirius had taken the opportunity to hide behind one of the large curtains covering most of the windows of the Lestrange’s ballroom.

There they were now, each nursing a flute of Blanc de Blancs, hoping no one would go look for them, and enjoying the fresh air coming from the open window.

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Sirius said.

Helene didn’t answer. They both knew he was wrong.  

As she went to take another sip, someone grabbed the curtain they were hiding behind. Both Sirius and Helene tensed, awaiting the bared teeth of one (or worse, both) of their mothers. Instead, Regulus’s curly head appeared. His eyes widened when he spotted them, and he stepped forward, joining them in their hideout.

“I’ve been searching for you all night,” Regulus said. “Both of you.”

He wore matching dress robes with Sirius, but where the older brother looked entrapped in his, Regulus looked as if he had been born wearing it. The dark fabric fell around his shoulders in an elegant cut, with a line of silver buttons accentuating his grey eyes. The only quality disturbing the look was how the robes weren’t sized correctly; the material lightly dragging over the floor behind him.

“Sorry about that, Reggie. It was a classic ‘every man for himself’ situation.” Sirius shrugged.

“A what?”

“Helena is not a man.”

Sirius waved off Helene’s question but answered Regulus. “Yeah, I guess, but she was there and in need of help, so I just took her. Women and children first, you know.”  

Helene giggled, almost spilling some of her champagne. “What are you talking about? First for what?”

“Saving.”

“Saving?” Regulus sounded mystified. “Saving from what?”

Sirius hesitated. He took another sip, giving himself more time to come up with an answer. Regulus didn’t have a drink, so Helene offered hers to him. He took it with a nod. Finally, Sirius opened his mouth again. “Ships… Perhaps water, too.” It sounded more like a question, and seeing the disbelieving expressions of Regulus and Helene, Sirius gave up. “Ah, alright. I don’t know. It’s a muggle expression.”

Without meaning to, Helene turned to Regulus at the mention of muggles. But he just looked at Sirius, amusement dancing in his eyes. When he noticed that she was looking at him, Regulus looked back, and both started smiling simultaneously. After one last sip, Regulus handed her the flute back. Their fingers brushed, and through the thin material of her gloves—white lace, what a surprise—Helene sensed the chill radiating from his skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

“You look very beautiful.” Helene had heard that compliment dozens of times that evening, but Regulus’s tone, which was so completely sincere, made her cheeks glow. Regulus looked down at her skirt, and before Helene realised what he was doing, he reached out and caressed one of the ribbons. She only noticed that she was holding her breath when he let go and took a step back.

“Wow,” Sirius whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. “What a suck up.”

Regulus cleared his throat, and looked at Sirius, his eyes shining with annoyance, although that expression faded quickly. “I’m being polite. You should try it some time.”

“Just because I’m not showering Lenny in compliments doesn’t mean I’m not polite. I’m always polite. Matter of fact, I’m the gentlest of men in all of Gryffindor. But the girl already has an ego the size of this country. I don’t wanna feed into that.”

Helene had to roll her eyes at that. Sure, she knew she was beautiful. It’s what she had been told her entire life. Her future depended on it. But knowing something differed from feeling it.

Helene knew she was beautiful, but she disliked the way she looked. Her skin felt strange, her eyes seemed lost, and she felt as though her body was torn.

The only part of her she wholly loved was her hair. When she was younger, Mimi would spend hours brushing through Helene’s hair. ‘Spun gold’ is what her grandmother used to call it. While the soothing motions of the comb ran across Helene’s head, Mimi would tell her stories of all kinds. Tales of sleeping princesses, three clever goats, and, of course, Heracles.

So much about Heracles.

Then there were the Nereids, Achilles, Daphne, Alcestis, Hecuba, Medea, the Trojan War, and countless more.

Helene could never tell what was a warning, a threat, or a promise.

“Sirius,” Regulus scolded.

Sirius was about to defend himself when the curtain was once again pulled away, revealing the swaying body of Alphard Black. With his high cheekbones, and the ancestral Black family looks of dark hair and grey eyes, it wasn’t a reach to call the middle-aged man handsome. But the dark circles under his eyes, and the ever-present smell of liquor on his breath, had hindered any romantic prospects. His family had given up hope on Alphard ever finding a match, and to Helene it seemed that the man’s loneliness wasn’t seen as a tragedy, but a comedy.

In some twisted way, Helene envied Alphard.

“You three are hiding,” Alphard slurred. It wasn’t a question, so no one answered. Alphard didn’t seem to notice the tense silence and continued undisturbed. “Badly, might I add?”

They needed to get rid of Alphard as quickly as possible. The longer it looked like he spoke to a window, the more attention he’d catch. Sirius stepped forward and threw his arm around his uncle.

“No, no.” Sirius grinned from cheek to cheek, but Helene could see his frustrated expression. “I was just showing the youth the wonders of the night.” With a grandiose gesture, Sirius pointed out of the window.

“Sure, boy,” Alphard said, and hiccupped. “Show me one star.”

Without hesitating—or looking out of the window—Sirius spoke in his most sophisticated tone. “That over there is the Orion constellation.”

“Of course, you chose the constellation you’re named after,” Regulus said, and rolled his eyes.

Helene was about to agree with Regulus, but as she looked at where Sirius was pointing, she found the hourglass shape of Orion.

“He’s right.” The statement burst out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Sirius grumbled, but he, too, looked slightly bewildered at his correct guess.

But Alphard wasn’t impressed. “I asked for a star, didn’t I? Can ya name one of those?”

Sirius pursed his lips and squinted out of the window. “I wanna say… Alpha Leonis?”

Alphard scoffed. “Your brother isn’t hundreds of miles away; he is right in front of you. And Regulus was never part of your constellation, anyway.” It was the rambling of a drunk man who could barely form a coherent sentence. Nonetheless, the grim sound of his voice made Helene’s heart speed up. But Alphard wasn’t finished yet. He took another drink and then chuckled. “If you want to survive in this family, you should become a better liar. Now get out from here and mingle.”

It seemed like their brief refuge was over. With their feet dragging, all three stepped from behind the curtain.

The ballroom of the Lestrange laid before them in all its glory. Polished mahogany floor, high ceilings, and at least twice as many candelabra as there were guests. One side of the room was filled with tables holding a rich and colourful variation of food and drinks. A steady stream of platters was floating around, holding champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres.

The dancefloor was filled with people, although most weren’t dancing. Instead, the guests promenaded between each other, the sound of their voices and occasional laughter harmonising with the striking melodies from an orchestra of instruments playing themselves on a balcony overlooking the chamber.

The hall was tinged in a yellow glow emanating from the many candles floating above their heads, making Helene believe she stepped into a reverie. A thick sickly sweet fragrance made her head spin, and with every step she took, it was as if she were walking on clouds.

Helene scrunched up her nose and slowly tilted her head to the side. That scent evoked memories of the burned marshmallows they had enjoyed on their first day back at Hogwarts, although she couldn’t remember whether there was an acidic tinge to it back then too.

A smile formed on her lips, and she blinked a couple of times. Regulus and Sirius joined her at her side, both matching her smile.

“Do you smell that, too?” Helene asked, but her voice came out as a mere whisper. With her mouth open, she took in a deep breath, leaving her voice airy. “It’s nice.”

“Nice,” Regulus echoed, but Helene scarcely paid attention.

Her mouth was dry. Very dry. She swallowed. It was still dry.

She needed something to drink, and the citrusy, floral taste of the champagne she had earlier still lingered on her tongue.

As she started to take a step, someone obstructed her movements. Helene looked up into the frowning face of Alphard. The man looked at her, and Helene giggled.

“Shoulda stayed by that window.” Alphard’s hand landed on Helene’s shoulder while he shook his head.

“You told us to leave,” Sirius said. His head was lying on his shoulder, and his gaze was faraway.

Alphard shrugged at that. Helene wondered why the wizard’s fingers felt like feathers on her skin. His hand lifted, and he sighed with a smile on his face. “Have fun.”

Helene watched as Alphard vanished into the crowd.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Me too!” Helene beamed at Regulus. Of course, they shared that feeling—they shared everything!

“Let’s go and get something to drink,” Sirius said, and Helene wondered why he sounded so far away when he was standing right next to her.

Before she realised what was happening, Helene was already floating towards the table with the drinks. An elderly lady waltzed into Helene, making her stumble. The woman gawked at Helene, blinked for a while, and then smiled widely. “Watch where you’re going, lassie.” In an instance, the woman was gone, and Helene laughed.

Someone threw an arm around her shoulder and guided her away. She wasn’t sure who it was or where they were taking her, but that wasn’t important. What was important was how soft that person was, and how good they smelled.

The orchestra started another tune, and Helene knew they were playing for her alone.

A champagne flute appeared in her hand, although she wasn’t sure whether it was her old one refilled or a new one. She took a sip. Then another. Suddenly, the glass was empty, but her mouth still felt too dry.

Regulus materialised next to her. His eyes were enormous, but his pupils were tiny. A wide grey sea, with a small haven swaying in its waves. “Sirius left.”

The words sounded strange. Until just now, Helene had thought that both boys had left. She took Regulus’s hand and pulled him away. She moved her head from side to side, trying to spot the older Black brother. Her vision swam, but she liked the colours more than the shapes anyhow.

“Oh,” Regulus muttered. Still holding Helene’s hand, he lifted his and pointed at the far-left corner of the room. After blinking a couple of times, she spotted what Regulus was pointing at.

Sirius stood in the corner, shadows hugging his figure, holding a small candelabra. His eyes were set on the flickering flames, his face only centimetres away.

A laugh bubbled out of Helene. “If he isn’t careful, he’s going to burn off his hair.”

Regulus hummed at that. They stayed where they were for a couple of seconds, observing Sirius. He, too, didn’t move. He wasn’t even blinking. The orange blaze reflecting on his face made Sirius look ethereal. A laurel of gold sat on his head. His shoulders carrying a matching veil. But the rest of his body, the part the light never reached, looked sickly in comparison.

Sirius looked beautiful and otherworldly, and eerie, and ghastly. A statue made of rotten marble. Crumbling at the edges, decaying over time.

Helene giggled at the visual and walked toward him.

Sirius noticed them approaching, but other than a flicker in their direction, he didn’t acknowledge them. Slowly, he raised his right hand and moved it near one candle.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but he didn’t stop. She should panic, Helene knew that. At least, that seemed like the logical reaction to someone about to burn themselves. But she wasn’t.

Fine veins of smoke rose from the five candles Sirius was holding, and Helene tore her eyes away from him to watch them. No matter how long and hard she looked, the smoke eventually evaded her, and she never saw it reach the ceiling.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Regulus’s drowsy voice broke Helene out of her haze, and she looked back down, to see that Sirius was holding his finger right above a candle.

“No, no,” Sirius said, a smile forming on his lips. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt.”

“No way.”

“You try it,” he said, and held the candelabra near Helene. She didn’t want to do that. Her mother had taught her the importance of proper bearing, and Helene figured that politely drinking tea with a burned off finger would be quite difficult. So, she did the only reasonable thing. She reached out and covered a candle with her hand.

Sirius was right, it didn’t hurt. Where the flame touched her palm, only a tickling sensation occurred. Fascinated, Helene watched as the smoke gathered under her hand, and then found its way up by slipping through her fingers.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Helena.” Regulus’s hand touched hers, and it looked like he wanted to pull it away, but then he paused. Helene moved her hand a bit, and Regulus took the offer. Now, the flame was dancing between their palms, looking like a leaf on a frigid autumn day.

Side by side, they looked at the miracle in front of them. Where his hand connected with hers, Helene felt a cold rush, but the fire brought forth an encapsulating heat, eclipsing any uncomfortable bite. Her heart was pounding, but her breathing was shallow and slow. Days passed, and they stood there, not moving, letting the elements do their thing.

Suddenly, the fire disappeared. Confused, Helene looked up to see that Sirius had placed it back on a windowsill. “That’s enough.” His lips were pressed together, and as he went to scratch his cheek, Helene noticed his finger was a dark red.

She looked down at her palm and frowned when she noticed that most of her palm was a shiny scarlet. A thin layer of her skin was peeled away at the edge of a large blister sitting right in the centre of her hand.

“Does it hurt?” Sirius asked in a low voice.

“No,” Helene replied, absentmindedly. She wasn’t paying attention to Sirius, too focused on her palm. As she was looking at it, she remembered her other palm, and subsequently lifted it, now holding both hands next to each other.

The thin white scar nestled into her left palm, and now the burn mark on the right one. Slowly, she extended her arms, letting the brothers see her hands. The ground under her feet was moving, and Helene had to focus to not fall over.

Regulus—who had until then inspected his own palm, which was carrying a similar though less severe burn—took a step forward and tilted his head. “I like it,” he said, and Helene wondered why he made his voice echo. “We’re matching.” They grinned at each other.

When Helene felt a weird sensation on her fingers, her smile faded, though it quickly appeared again once she realised that it was only Sirius turning her left hand. Carefully, he held her hand, not blinking or moving.

“When did you get this?” He didn’t look up, and Helene thought he was overdue for a haircut.

“My hand?”

“The ring.”

He was talking about her signet ring, placed smugly on her pinkie. It was made from goblin-wrought silver and was about two centimetres wide. The Feigrhail family emblem—which was a depiction of a selkie woman half caught up in her transformation, framed by anemones, all encased within a harsh frame—was engraved into it.

“It was a present from my parents for this year’s winter solstice. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” When her parents handed her the ring, Helene could barely contain herself. The family emblem had always held a special place in her heart. Its design peppered around their estate, made it an unfaltering part of her life.

“You should take it off,” Sirius said, his finger grazing the engravement.

“Why would I do that? You’re wearing yours.” In pure-blood culture, one was considered grown enough at the age of 13 to officially be seen as a fully fledged family member, and therefore a potential heir.

The custom stemmed from centuries ago, when the life expectancy was much younger, and many children died before they could age out of infancy. It was to spare families the hassle of reorientating, and the shame of introducing a new heir. Before 13, children were considered acolytes to their parents; not to be trusted to bear the family name.

A consequence of the late inauguration was that it wasn’t uncommon for the eldest boy to suspiciously die, if he wasn’t seen as worthy enough. Passing the title down, without scruple.

Over the centuries, the tradition became less and less significant, most children living long past the age of 13. So, while the foundation of it remained, it had become a lot more lenient. Officially, children still weren’t seen as part of the family, but they were called by their family name and title, while generally considered being part of society.

Additionally, instead of killing an unworthy heir, he would be taught to behave the correct way. Instead of being a regular occurrence, it became an indignity to lose the heir of the family. Helene thought Sirius should be grateful for that.

Instead, he kept leering at her ring, his own basking in the light.

“But you shouldn’t.” he paused and abruptly looked up. “Take it off.”

“What? No.” But Sirius was already trying to pry off the ring. Helene tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he held on tight. So she formed a fist with her hand, hoping it would stop him. Regulus tried to help by grabbing Sirius’s hands, but to no avail.

Just as Sirius achieved in opening her fist, his fingers grasping the ring, a scream tore through the room and all the candles extinguished, wrapping the chamber in darkness. The music had seized as well, although Helene wasn’t sure whether it had even been playing for the last couple of minutes.  

Sirius’s grasp slackened, and Helene used the moment to snatch her hand away from him. There was a slight commotion somewhere, and Helene wondered who had screamed.

“Are James, Peter, and Remus here as well? Is this you guy’s doing?” she whispered. Sirius elbowed her for that, and both cackled.

“You know, Lenny, in this light, you really are the most beautiful.” They laughed even more. Someone started screaming again.

“Don’t be rude. Just because you’re insecure that you are funnier with your mouth closed doesn’t make it okay.” Sirius gasped at his brother’s words but joined them in their laughter. A hysterical voice broke through their laughter, but Helene couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“Do you hear the pleading as well?” she asked, and turned to look at the brothers, until she realised it was still pitch black, and she couldn’t even see their silhouettes.  

“Yes,” Regulus said. “Who is that?”

“And what are they sobbing about?” Sirius’s voice was light with curiosity. Helene shrugged at that. A headache was forming behind her temples, and she hoped the person would give it a rest soon.

Suddenly, they did, and Helene wondered whether she might be clairvoyant. A circle of light appeared in the middle of the room, making Helene squint. Once she could open her eyes, she saw two figures with a big lump of fabric laying at their feet. She recognised the couple as Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.

After getting married to the eldest of Cygnus Black’s daughters last winter, Rodolphus had taken over as head of the Lestrange family. With that, the responsibility of hosting the annual soirée became Bellatrix’s. This year was the first, and it seemed like the hosts had a surprise planned.

Bellatrix stepped forward, baring her teeth with a twisted smile. “Good evening. We hope you have had a gratifying time and enjoyed our little… douceur.” Helene wondered what she was talking about, but she also didn’t care enough to think about it further. “To end off the night, we have organised another surprise.”

At that, Rodolphus cut her off with his raised hand, and started talking himself. “Times are changing, my friends. During the last couple of years, more and more wizards have finally woken up and recognised the callous ways in which we are being treated, and the ridiculous indulgence toward Mudbloods and other inferior existences. To fight back is the only way to assure our survival.”

Rodolphus paused, looking around the room. There were some shouts of agreement spurring him on. Helene scratched her nose. Seeing the sneer on Bellatrix’s face, she had to suppress a giggle, turning toward the two Black brothers. “Bellatrix is your first and third cousin.”

“Hey,” Regulus exclaimed, and when Sirius punched Helene, making her stumble, all three laughed quietly.

A young man near them yelled something. It wasn’t like Helene wasn’t listening. She was. But the words entered her ears and then floated around her head making no sense. The general reaction seemed to be positive though, so she cheered with them. Regulus and Sirius joining in as well.

Rodolphus continued, a sharp smile on his lips. “But our uprising didn’t start from nowhere. One wizard started it and without him, we wouldn’t have got where we are today. Although, merely calling him a wizard doesn’t even begin to do him justice. He is the Father of the new age, and our Master leading us to victory. It is my greatest honour to welcome him in my home.” At that, the entrance doors swung open. “Lord Voldemort, we are your servants.” Rodolphus and Bellatrix simultaneously sank to their knees.

Helene felt him before she saw him. It was as if all the lights dimmed once again, and goosebumps rose on her arms as the temperature dropped. While her mind was still clouded, her heart walloped in her chest, and Helene had the sudden urge to run. She found the robes of the brothers standing on either side of her and clutched them in her hands. The two moved closer in an instant, their gazes not straying from the doors similarly paralysed.

That’s when he entered. His face and body were shrouded in long, dark robes, making him look less like a man, and more like death itself. Every step he took felt deliberate and calculated. He moved like a gathering storm, and the entire room held its breath. The people he passed fell to the floor, bowing their heads. As he passed them, Helene, Regulus, and Sirius too, sank to their knees. She hadn’t even realised she had done it until her bare knees scraped the cold floor.

As he arrived in the centre of the room, everyone was kneeling. He reached up and removed his cloak, revealing his face. Helene gasped upon seeing what he looked like. His skin was a translucent white, with visible veins curling under his skin like snakes. His dark hair was thin and cut short, his faded skull shining through it at parts. However, the worst part was the scars. Thick, long scars slithered through his face, making him look like a shattered mirror put back together. Helene couldn’t even begin to fathom how one could get such scars. In comparison, Remus’s scars were mere scratches.

“Welcome, welcome.” The sound of his voice penetrated her skin and sunk into her bones, and Helene bowed her head once again. “I am delighted to finally meet so many of you. This is a difficult time we’re all going through, but fear not, the end is near. Soon, we will deliver justice to Mudbloods, Muggles, and blood traitors, and we will regain our dominance.

No one reacted, and he seemed pleased by that. “Nevertheless, this is not what I came here for.” He sighed and started walking again, seemingly without a target. “I wish I was here to celebrate with you. I truly do. Yet, it has come to my attention that there are still some concerns regarding my ambitions. If you do, I invite you now to step forward.”

There was not enough air in the room, and Helene’s head was spinning. Her breath hitched, but before she could react any further, Sirius pinched her into the thigh. He then grasped her wrist, holding it tight. To anchor her to either him or the floor, Helene wasn’t sure. Numbly, she realised she felt the pain of the pinch.  

“Please, I am being sincere. I would like to hear from those sceptics.” Still, nobody moved, and his voice took on a light tone. “Very well. If no one wants to stand by their beliefs, it is fortunate that I’m already made aware of them.” He stopped in front of a middle-aged couple. “Mister LeVross, would you please stand up?”

Walter LeVross—bald, sweaty, and trembling—got off the floor, not meeting his eyes. Helene knew the LeVross family. While their elevated blood statues made them regulars at social gatherings, they kept to themselves.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you in person, Mister LeVross,” he said, and held out his hand, which the shuddering man shook. “From what I have heard, you are not a supporter of a greater wizarding empire. Would you mind explaining why?”

LeVross pursed his lips, his eyes darting around the room for help. Helene remembered he had a four-year-old daughter at home. “I—I didn’t… I wouldn’t…”

“Mister LeVross, please calm yourself. Everything will be alright,” he said, twisting his lips into what might be considered a smile.

“My lord,” Walter LeVross started, his voice calmer, though still with a distinct quiver. “I confess, I was a sceptic, but I have seen the truth. I am but your loyal and humble servant, my lord. Please, my lord, forgive me.” He had sunk to his knees again, almost touching the floor with his forehead by how deep he bowed.

“Of course, I forgive you. But…” the room tensed, and Helene’s hands were shaking. “I will need to test your loyalty, not just toward me, but toward our movement. Stand up and follow me.” He led both back into the centre, stopping by the bundle of fabric. With his foot, he nudged the bundle, revealing what was inside.

The room gasped at what laid before them. Sirius let go of Helene’s wrist, only to grip the fabric bunched around her waist, this time with his right hand. His left hand went around her back to grip his brother in the same way. Regulus and Helene had cowered as close to Sirius as they could, leaving all three huddled up in a snug cluster.

A young woman lied stock-still on the floor; her eyes ripped wide open in terror. LeVross flinched away, his chest heaving.

“Meet Clara-May Humbard. She is 21 years old and studying to become a teacher. I have been told that she is ever helpful and absolutely adored by her family and friends.” His voice was soft as he turned toward LeVross. “I’m going to need you to take her life.”

The wails of Linda LeVross echoed through the silence. A tear rolled down Helene’s cheek, and she thought she might throw up. Next to her, Regulus and Sirius fared little better.

“My lord,” LeVross whimpered. “My lord, please. I am begging you, my lord.”

“This is not a punishment, Mister LeVross, but it is something that needs to happen. I cannot accept partial loyalty.” He put a hand on LeVross’s shoulder. “You have thirty seconds.”

One last sob burst out of the man before a shadow fell over his face. His dull eyes focused on Clara-May, and he raised his wand. Seconds ticked by with nothing happening. LeVross was frozen in the position, his wand barely even pointing at the girl with how much he was shaking.

LeVross took one more deep breath. “Avada Kedavra,” he whispered.

Nothing happened.

LeVross’ eyes widened and his mouth opened. But he didn’t get the chance to speak. “If you aren’t capable enough for the Killing Curse, you’re going to have to get creative. You have ten seconds left.”

Now, any detachment drained out of LeVross. His chest was heaving, and he swayed on the spot. The hand holding his wand ran through his hair, and he pulled at it desperately. Suddenly, he bolted forward, pointing his wand at the girl, and screamed. “Confringo!”

A fiery orange light flew toward Clara-May. It hit her with a resounding explosion, and in an instant, her body was gone. A fine mist spread through the room, covering everything in sight, and as it settled, its colour became clear.

Red.

Helene could feel it on her face and clothes. She blinked as a metallic taste spread in her mouth. It couldn’t be what she thought it was—it just couldn’t! She turned toward Sirius, and upon seeing him, started gagging. He was covered head to toe in blood. It was dripping from his hair, falling onto the floor, which already bore a layer.

Helene looked at Regulus, hoping that the boy somehow escaped the terror; he didn’t. He kneeled wide eyed, and brows furrowed. Helene followed his gaze to see what he was looking at and found an abandoned tray holding champagne, which was now tinted a deep orange.

Then she saw it, a piece of skin hang half out of a flute, garnishing it. Helene’s hands flew to her mouth, just to whimper upon realising that her hands were covered too, and she had now smeared more blood across her face.

“Everybody, settle down.” His voice rang in Helene’s ears, and without meaning to, she looked up, seeing him still standing with LeVross, who looked like he’d collapse at any moment.

Looking around, Helene saw that most of the guests had reacted similarly. At least two had thrown up, and many more looked like they were about to. They had all stilled though, eyes trained on the centre of the room.

“Thank you, Mister LeVross. You did very good,” he said and smiled at the man who returned it, relief evident on his face. “Avada Kedavra!”

Walter LeVross dropped dead to the ground.

Helene looked away and slumped forward. A bitter sensation spread through her body, and Helene wondered whether the spell might have missed its original target, finding a home in her heart. She tried to lie down, arms clutching her chest, legs drawn close, but Sirius tugged her back into a kneeling position.

“Sit up, look forward, and don’t make any noises,” he whispered in a harsh tone, shaking her shoulder. Then he turned to Regulus. “You, too!” Both gaped at Sirius, but that wasn’t enough for him. “Do you understand me?” They nodded, and Sirius exhaled, turning back forward.

“My new world will have no place for cowards. If you doubt me, or my cause, I am inviting you to leave now.” He scanned the surrounding faces. No one moved. “Excellent. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that he marched out of the room, the doors falling close behind him.

Slowly, people got up, a hushed murmur spreading through the room. Helene stayed where she was, on the floor on her knees, not able to rip her gaze away from the doors.

She had heard about him before. Of course, she had. A wizard so dark, he would do anything to succeed. So powerful, it was said that he rivalled Professor Dumbledore. There were even some whispers about him being immortal.

Helene believed all of it. He was ruination.

She could feel the Black brothers next to her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

They had met their fate. The fate of everything.

Lord Voldemort

Chapter Text

Crimson red specks bejewelled the dress, turning it from a soft grey-blue dream into what could only be described as a crime scene. As Helene’s gaze once again landed on it, bile rose in her throat, and she darted toward her en-suite. She got there just in time, her stomach emptying itself the second her knees hit the floor in front of the lavatory. Sweat beaded on her neck and brows, and a tear slipped down her face as she heaved out the contents of her stomach, which, at that point, was already empty.

Exhausted, she laid her head on the cool porcelain, but last night’s events flashed before her eyes, and Helene started to cough once more. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Clara-May. If Helene was lucky, she saw the girl petrified on the floor with terrified wide eyes. But most of the time, she saw the poor girl explode into a fine mist.

The same mist that embedded itself into Helene’s skin, and still stained her beautiful dress. Her head spun, and stomach cramped. She tried to blink the tears out of her eyes, but more kept appearing, blurring her vision.

A small hand touched Helene’s arm, and a familiar, comforting voice spoke up. “Oh, Miss Helene, Nelda feels terrible seeing how poor the Miss feels. Is there anything Nelda can do to help?”

“No, it’s fine,” Helene whispered. She was fine; of course; Helene was fine. She hadn’t been the one slaughtered yesterday. Her hands were shaking, so she balled them into fists. “I don’t need anything. In fact, I would like you to leave me alone now.”

The house-elf hesitated. “Nelda... Nelda is unsure that that’s such a good idea, Miss.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Helene’s voice cracked, and she looked down. “Leave.”

“Miss.”

“I said, leave!” This time, Helene yelled, but upon seeing Nelda’s upset expression, she deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Miss. Nelda just wants to help however she can.”

“No. No, no, it’s not alright. I’m sorry. It’s not alright at all. I am so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Heavy sobs filled the air. Helene pulled her legs to her chest, letting her head fall on her knees.

Wrinkly skin brushed her arm, and Helene realised that the house-elf had sat down next to her on the floor. Nelda’s hand rubbed her back, and while it was rather rough and clumsy, Helene leaned into it as much as she could without crushing her.

A couple of minutes passed, and Helene’s sobs turned into staccato hiccups. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, not ready to face the future yet, and then brushed down her nightgown.

Helene could barely remember coming home last night. After the climax of the evening, everything happened rather swiftly. With quick goodbyes, the crowd dispersed, and the next thing Helene knew was that she was in her room, wearing only her underwear, having thrown the dress to the floor. Her cheeks were wet, and her whole body was shaking.

Nelda had helped her into a nightgown, and then into bed. When Helene begged the house-elf not to leave, Nelda stayed by her side, humming the melody of the song Mimi had used to sing Helene to sleep when she was a child. The gesture just made the knot in her chest tighter, but it did soothe her into sleep. Although that didn’t last long, Helene woke with the first rays of sunlight, her head spinning, and stomach cramping.

She never wanted to look at that dress again, but at the same time, she hadn’t been able to stop staring at it.

“Would Miss Helene enjoy a nice cup of tea?” Nelda asked as she helped Helene to her feet.

“I…” Helene sighed, wiping the traces of tears from her face, and then running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, please. I would like that.”

“Nelda will be back in a jiffy.” With that, the house-elf disappeared into thin air.

Helene walked back into her room, sitting down on her bed. The comfort she normally experienced within her own space had disappeared. When she left the house yesterday, her room had been a protected, and bright place. With its earthy tones and many flowers, Helene felt more at peace there than in any other place on the estate.

Now, her room appeared hollow. The walls looked dirty, and the flowers decayed. The dress laid in the middle of the room, spreading its arms. It almost looked peaceful; a serene lagoon reaching out, inviting her in.

Before she realised what she was doing, Helene slipped from her bed, and crawled over to it. She brushed the fabric with the tips of her fingers, circling the more prominent red stains. Slowly, she lied down, her frame copying the form of the dress. She arranged her limbs until the only things touching the floor were the back of her head and feet.

She was Clara-May Humbard. A nice young woman, studying to be a teacher. At home, a fiancé was waiting for her. She had dinner plans with friends the following week. Her parents loved her unconditionally, supporting her continued education. They had purchased her a necklace, which they were going to gift her for her graduation. When she was five years old, she had broken her left arm by falling from a tree. Her parents had used strawberry ice cream—which was her favourite—to cheer her up.

She had been walking home when suddenly everything turned dark. When she woke up, it had still been dark, fear coursing through her veins. Now, she was lying at the feet of two men. She didn’t understand what was going on. It was as if her body wasn’t her own anymore—it wouldn’t obey any of her commands. They were talking, but she couldn’t listen. Somehow, she was able to look around a bit, her gaze trailing over the many people gawking at her. Her eyes stopped on a young trio. Two boys and one girl were huddling together. She scrutinised the girl, who looked back at her with wide eyes.

Clara-May thought that the girl reminded her of herself when she was younger. Then, Clara-May thought nothing anymore.

She was Helene Astrophel Feigrhail. A young schoolgirl. When she opened her eyes, she saw the high ceilings present in every room in the opulent estate she called home. Yesterday, she watched two people get murdered right in front of her. She stood by, doing nothing, too scared to move. She wasn’t sure whether that made her a murderer, too.

“Miss Helene?” Nelda’s voice echoed through the room, but it couldn’t quite breach the fog in Helene’s mind. The house-elf was hundreds of kilometres away, and she was right here. “I’ve got your tea.”

Maybe Helene told her to put the tea down, and leave the room, maybe she didn’t. All she knew was that she stayed where she was on the floor until her room took on an orange hue, and the shadows in her room became longer.

Sluggishly, she turned her head to the side. The now-cold cup of tea stood within reach of her, and the faint smell of chamomile still hung in the air. Helene sat up, but the room was spinning, and her bones felt heavy. She wanted to lie back down. Propping her head in her hands, she watched the sun disappear behind the horizon.

Deep in her chest, Helene found the harsh sting of jealousy as the last rays faded. Every day, the sun disappeared, leaving all behind, not looking back. The sun didn’t make mistakes, and nobody faulted her for running. Light and warmth were all she knew and would ever know.

Meanwhile, Helene was sitting in the dark, staring out of a window, waiting for her to return.

*

The next weeks were a distortion of sitting, waiting, and thinking. Sometimes, Helene didn’t get out of bed, and sometimes she refused to go to sleep. She skipped more meals than she ate and drank much less than she should.

Before long, the holidays were over, and Helene got ready to go back to school. The book Remus had given her to take home sat heavy at the bottom of her trunk. She had opened David Copperfield only to close it again after only a couple of pages. It had not just one, but two characters named Clara, and Helene’s stomach churned at each mention.

Her parents had joined her at the breakfast table that morning, and the silence was like a secure blanket, hanging over Helene’s shoulder, and pressing her into the chair. She forced down another bite of bread, but the crumbs kept getting stuck in her throat.

“Helene,” her mother spoke up.

Helene’s heart skipped a beat. Over the holidays, they had only spoken a couple of times, sometimes with days of silence in between. She knew that her parents generally supported who they called ‘the Dark Lord’, still the spectacle left them shaken. Her father barely left his study, and her mother drowned herself in wine.

One night, Helene wandered through the house, looking for a way to get tired. As she passed the downstairs parlour, she noticed something in the dark. Holding a candle, she stepped closer into the room, trying to make out what the shadow was. She flinched at what she saw. Her mother slumped in an armchair, her head bowed, with a collection of bottles spread around her.

Helene’s first thought was that she was dead. She rushed forward, grabbing her mother’s shoulders, shaking her. The bleary eyes of her mother found her own, and she exhaled. Her mother looked at her, with no expression on her face, her eyes almost empty. A stray lock had fallen out of the woman’s tight hairdo and tumbled over her shoulder in an almost playful way.

Helene averted her gaze and made to get up, but her mother’s hand shot forward, grasping her arm. Nails were digging into her skin, and Helene bit the insides of her cheeks. With the other hand, her mother suddenly reached out, stroking Helene’s cheek.

“You shouldn’t have seen that.” Her tone was quiet and lethargic. She couldn’t look into Helene’s eyes. “My little girl. I didn’t want you to see that.”

The words felt like lead reeling down Helene’s back. “Mother.” Her voice broke, and she choked on what she was going to say next. Perhaps she was about to apologise; perhaps she was about to yell. Helene had forgotten before she could try again. The touch of her mother’s soft hand on her face made her want to forget everything. Past, present, and future all became meaningless as long as she sat there, in the arms of her mother.

“What are you doing down here?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Then let’s get you upstairs, darling. You are haunting the house,” her mother said, and smiled as she helped Helene up. They walked upstairs, hand in hand. The hallways appeared shorter, the darkness brighter, and Helene’s eyelids seemed heavy. They reached her room, and her mother led her over to the bed, tucking her in.

Helene didn’t want their hands to separate, gripping them tighter. “Are we going to join him?” She knew the answer; still, she needed confirmation.

“Of course, my love,” her mother said, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and walked towards the door.

“Mother.” Helene sat up in her bed, her lips trembling. It felt like someone had slapped her.

Her mother stopped, and looked over her shoulder, her eyes having found a sudden insistence. “Of course, we will. Go to sleep.”

Sleep had evaded her for the rest of the night.

“Helene.” Her mother’s voice had taken on a sharp tone, and Helene’s head shot up.

As usual, her mother sat with a straight back, and pursed lips. The meager amount of fruit on her plate was scattered and untouched. A steaming cup of herbal tea before her. Perfectly rounded nails rapped on the mahogany table, harmonising with the ticking of the timeworn grandfather clock.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Your father and I have something important to discuss with you,” she said.

Her father had until that moment, dwelled behind the Daily Prophet. Now, he folded the newspaper and set it aside. Helene waited for him to explain, but he took his time, taking a long sip of his tea.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “What did you think about what you got to witness?” He didn’t have to clarify what he was talking about, and the mention of the night made her hands clammy.

She wasn’t sure what to say. “I… I was very surprised.”

“Surprised?” Her father raised an eyebrow.

“Overwhelmed,” she said quickly.  

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not in a bad way! It was—”

“Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what you think.” Helene bit her tongue at her father’s dismissive tone. “What you saw was an honour. You were allowed in the same room as the Dark Lord—something not many wizards get to say.

“Times are changing, and we were invited to take part in the reshaping of our world.” At that point, he had reached for Helene’s hands. “I have thought about this long and hard. You have disappointed us immeasurably, but you are still my daughter, and I believe you will make a great servant to the Dark Lord. You received your signet ring because we still believe in your potential. The next years will be glorious, and if you behave, you will reap the benefits of our blood.”

Helene couldn’t breathe. She opened her mouth, only to close it again. This seemed to her like a dream. The last weeks had been so lonely, and now her parents were inviting her back to them. She tried to covertly remove the tears that were forming in her eyes with a blink.

At the same time, she knew what he meant by ‘behave’, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to do that. Still, the way her father was smiling at her—she couldn’t remember the last time he had done that—tugged at something deep inside of her.

“We know what is best for you, and we want to make sure you reach your full potential.”

In their peculiar way, Helene realized, they were being truthful. It just wasn’t her truth anymore. They were looking at one another from two different shores, a river running between them, with a tiny bridge connecting them. However, with every passing second, the torrent carried more of it away, leaving behind a forsaken attachment.

“Thank you.” What else could she say.

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence, and soon after, Helene found herself on Platform 9¾. The harsh wind carried snowflakes through the air, and she had to squint to make out where to go. Her parents hadn’t come, sending her off with a pat on the back from her father, and a kiss on the head from her mother. Both gestures provided equal amounts of comfort and destruction.

A shiver ran through her, and Helene pulled her heavy robes closer around her body. The surrounding students were hurrying to get on the train, but she couldn’t bring herself yet to join them.

Helene was in the process of counting the snowflakes around her, and trying to think of warm, better days, when suddenly, a hand on her shoulder made her jolt back. The smiling face of James Potter appeared in her line of sight, and Helene’s hand shot out, as if to steady herself.

“Lo, Nelly. How’s it been?” He threw an arm around her shoulder, not giving her time to reply before turning her around. “You wanna meet my parents?”

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were standing a couple of paces away, hand in hand. Helene had seen them before, of course, though she had never been this close to them. Their mature age was clearly etched onto their faces, but where wrinkles usually seemed like something to get rid of, on them they rested proudly.

Although James looked like an exact younger copy of Fleamont, Helene thought that Euphemia reminded her much more of the boy. With her lips pulled into a kind-hearted smile, and her hair—lighter than James’s, and marked by age with grey highlights—tumbling around her shoulders, beautiful but careless, it was impossible not to see where her son got his behaviour.

The woman stepped forward, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Helene. We have heard much about you.”

Helene’s mouth went dry, and her eyes widened. The Potters hadn’t been there that night, and they probably weren’t supporters of the Dark Lord. She was certain that she wasn’t supposed to talk to them. Then again, she wasn’t allowed to talk to her friends, but she doubted she would stop.

She took a step back and felt the colour leave her face. Euphemia’s stance faltered, and her smile faded into a light frown. “I’m sorry, I’m not… I don’t…” Helene bit her lip, looking away.

It was like she was back at the beginning of the first year. Helene had no idea who she could speak with. Over the holidays, a lot had shifted. It wasn’t fun anymore. All the hope Helen had for a different future had disappeared. This was it.

All or nothing.

“Woah, Helene, are you alright?” James’s voice sounded a lifetime away. With his arm still holding her, he tugged her closer, turning to lead her toward the train. “Let’s get you inside.”

“You have to say goodbye to your parents,” Helene mumbled.

“It’s fine. I already did. I just saw you and wanted to introduce you. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would react that way.” James let out an awkward chuckle. “Why did you react that way?”

Helene’s head was spinning, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Together they climbed up the steps to enter the Hogwarts Express. James held on tight to Helene’s arm, as if to make sure that she wouldn’t trip, which she was grateful for. The warm air greeting them inside the train was filled with the laughter of the other students reuniting with their friends. Tony Walker ran by, his too-long blonde hair fluttering behind him, and threw her a quick salute.

“Well, my holidays were fun. For the winter solstice we went ice skating, and afterwards walked through Muggle London. Did you know that instead of Winter Solstice, they celebrate stuff like Christmas, and Hannukah, and stuff? But only some of them.” James kept up the stream of babble, some of which made little sense without added context, which he never gave. James was talking to fill the silence, and Helene was deeply grateful for that.

That was perhaps James’s best quality: he had a distinct understanding of what someone might need in any given circumstance. It was like he had a sixth sense for it. Whether it was tissues, something to laugh at, or an endless stream of consciousness.   

James was currently recounting the tale of how his father almost blew up their kitchen a couple of years ago, when someone exited a compartment, blocking their path, and forcing them to a stop.

Eileen wore a bright yellow jumper and an even brighter smile. The elated voices of Aminah and Pandora sounded from the open door, and a laugh escaped Eileen’s mouth. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Helene stayed silent, but that didn’t deter Eileen, who surged forward and enveloped her in a tight hug. The scent of peppermint and lavender, which always clung to Eileen, made Helene’s shoulders relax, and it felt like she was exhaling for the first time that day.

After some hesitation, she hugged the other girl back. With her arms locked close around Eileen’s waist, Helene dug her fingers into the coarse wool of her jumper. Before she could stop it, she teared up, and although Helene tried to suppress it, a tremor passed through her body.

Eileen tensed up, and Helene clutched her harder, the thought of letting go making her heart skip a beat. But Eileen didn’t let go; instead, she too tightened her hold and started to rub Helene’s back.

After another moment, Eileen pulled back, knitting her brows. As Helene looked to the side, she noticed that where previously James had stood, Aminah and Pandora now waited, both wearing identical concerned expressions.

“So,” Eileen started, stretching the vowel. “I take it your holidays were blinding.”

The four girls sat down in the compartment together, making sure to close the door and blinds. Pandora sat next to Helene, holding her close. Aminah and Eileen sat on the opposite side. The benches were worn, and Helene tugged on a loose thread, avoiding eye contact.

Before Helene could start to explain herself, Pandora opened her mouth. “Can I braid your hair?” Her fingers already started to weave through Helene’s hair, parting it in sections.

“Thank you,” Helene whispered.

“No, thank you,” Pandora said, her voice like a soothing balm. “I love playing with hair. When I was younger, I thought about becoming a Muggle hairdresser; they have lots of those.”

“There are also some magical hairdressers,” Aminah said. “There’s one in Diagon Alley called ‘Snip ‘n Rip’, I think.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. I like to do it without magic.” She had divided the upper part of Helene’s hair and had started to braid it. Helene closed her eyes, letting the sensation of every small tug lull her in.

A couple of minutes passed, the three girls chatting about different stores in the Diagon Alley, and their Muggle equivalents. Helene just focused on the comforting and familiar sound of their voices.

She had been so dazed over the last couple of days, but it all dimmed now that she was back with her friends. It was still all or nothing, but now the incentives had shifted. Maybe, ‘all’ wasn’t with her parents, and ‘nothing’ didn’t mean abandoning them. And even if it did, was that a bad thing? There was a painful thumping behind her temples, and Helene sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aminah asked. Her cat, Diba, sat undisturbed on her lap, licking her paws.

Helene did want to talk about it. By Merlin, she wanted to shout, and yell, and cry, until she lost her voice. Tell them about what she saw of their future, and how it seemed inevitable at this point. She wanted her friends to look at her, and condemn her for standing by, while an innocent woman had been killed. Make them hit her and curse her and never speak to her again.

She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “Something happened—” Helene’s voice broke off before she could finish her sentence.

Eileen sat up, her cheeks paling. “To you?”

“No.” It came out like a question. Helene bit her lip and shook her head. “How much do you guys know about… the Dark Lord?” The last part was almost imperceptible.

“Oh,” Aminah breathed. Pandora’s hands stilled in Helene’s hair.

“What lord?” Eileen asked. “You mean that Wolde-something bloke?”

Helene’s breath hitched at the casual mention. Eileen, of all people, should be more careful of the way she speaks.

“Don’t let anyone hear you speak that way, Lin.” The normally so dreamy Pandora had turned solemn, her voice low and steady.

“He’s bad, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” A hush had fallen over the compartment. Even Dina had stopped purring, her tail wagging from side to side. “I saw him.” Helene felt Pandora’s laboured breathing on her neck, but she didn’t dare turn towards the other girls.

“Are you—”

“Please don’t ask me if I’m okay,” Helene cut her off. She dug her fingers into her legs, which she had pulled close to the chest. The thought of Eileen, of all people, pitying her made her stomach turn.

“What happened?” Aminah asked.

A million possible answers ran through her head; the truth wasn’t one of them. “He talked about his recruitment of Werewolves and Giants.”

Over the last couple of years, the Dark Lord had travelled throughout Europe, openly enlisting violent creatures. While most wizards weren’t accepting of them, their staunch support, and help in various attacks, earned them a begrudging level of tolerance from many pure-bloods.

“Was that all?” Pandora asked hushed and continued braiding Helene’s hair.

“Yes.”

“Do your parents support him?” Soft brushes of Pandora’s fingertips made Helene shudder.

“Yes.” She tried to swallow the word, but it hung heavy in the air. Helene continued hastily. “But I don’t. I—I wouldn’t ever…”

“I know,” Eileen said. Helene turned towards her and found her dark eyes looking sober.

Helene tried to blink away the tears that were gathering in her eyes. She had cried so much over the last weeks, and it felt like a miracle that she still had more to shed. Pandora had finished the braid, and after she secured it with a ribbon, Helene slumped back into her. The other girl immediately wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer.

“Thank you.” Helene gave a wavering smile. Her life was a mess, and she could barely tell what was up and what was down. She was being pulled in two directions, and both seemed definitive in a fatal way. Still, as Pandora pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and Aminah and Eileen got up to join them, leaving them all cuddled close together on the bench, Helene knew that this was what she truly wanted.

Helene just hoped that she was strong enough to fight for it.

“So,” Eileen spoke up. She was half sprawled over Helene’s chest, with Aminah lounging on her back. “Who wants to hear about my blighter brother almost burning down our flat on Christmas?”

As Eileen told the story of clumsy younger siblings, a wobbly tree stand, and way too many candles, Helene couldn’t stop smiling. Warmth rose from Pandora’s embrace, Eileen’s hair was tickling her nose, and every time the four giggled, their entire huddle wobbled, threatening to make them tumble to the floor.

Outside the window, the sun set, and the cold landscape of Scotland passed them by, but the four Hufflepuffs were cocooned in their little compartment, filled with laughter and light.

*

It was several hours later, and after a large dinner, the students of Hogwarts had settled into their common rooms. Helene had wanted to get ready for bed, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her, when Aminah approached her to pull her aside.

Now, the two sat on one of the many sofas scattered around the Hufflepuff Basement; they had chosen one far away from anyone who might listen to them. A fire crackled in the fireplace next to them, and the comfortable smell of baked goods, always present in their common room, filled the air. Helene didn’t know what Aminah wanted to talk about, and the girl had a rather impressive blank expression.

After taking one last deep breath, Aminah started speaking. “You Know Who didn’t just talk about his plan, did he?” The question caught Helene off guard, and she blinked slowly, not knowing how to answer. “Don’t lie to me. You’re not very good at it.”

“I…,” Helene said, her eyes bouncing around the room, trying to think of what to say. Her gaze landed on Aminah, and she sighed, fiddling with her necklace. “Yes.”

Aminah frowned and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it, and then tried again, still without making a sound. She pursed her lips and looked down. Nevertheless, Helene knew what her friend wanted to ask.  

“You don’t want to know, believe me,” she said. On the other side of the room, a group of students played Charades, a Muggle game Helene found was very popular in Hufflepuff. Merle, a sixth-year, cheered as her group guessed what she acted out, and the others clapped.

“Helene,” Aminah whispered.

“I’m sorry for lying,” Helene said. “I just don’t want to scare you guys. I don’t know what to do. The holidays… It—it was a mess. And my parents, they… they want me to support him. I don’t want to, but what choice do I have?”

“That’s bullshit,” Aminah said, and to Helene’s surprise, she sounded genuinely peeved. “What choice do you have? So many that don’t involve joining a fascist regime. I get that you’re in a tough position because of your parents, but don’t pretend to be helpless. He’s going around killing people; this is not exactly a nuanced position.”

Helene’s breath caught in her throat, and even though she tried to play it off, Aminah noticed her alarm. She paused, and then her eyes widened. “That’s what happened.” It wasn’t a question, and Helene clenched her teeth. “Fuck.”

Another round of cheering boomed through the room, and even though there were at least four fires burning, Helene shuddered. Aminah’s words repeated in her head, and she knew the girl had a point.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Aminah’s already soft voice lowered even more. She waited until Helene nodded, and then continued. “I have a little sister. She’s five years old, and her name is Hanadi.”

Aminah’s eyes shimmered, and she wore a bittersweet smile. “She’s the most precious thing in the world. She has this really curly hair, and enough energy to run circles around you for hours. Honestly, she might be more intelligent than I am.” Both girls laughed, but the glossy look in Aminah’s eyes made Helene’s heart speed up.

“Hanadi is a Squib.” Oh. Helene noticed Aminah was flexing her hands by her side, forcing herself to take steady breaths. “At least, we think so. And I mean, we don’t have a problem with that. Like I said, with her personality, she’s going to be incredible no matter what. It’s just that with what’s been going on recently, we’re terrified of what her future might look like.”

Between 1968 and 1969, Squibs marched for equality, but a large number of the pure-blood community quickly dismantled those protests by attacking them, leading to riots. Because of their lack of magic, Squibs were seen as inferior by most Wizards, even those with more liberal politics. Although her parents had taught her about Squibs, Helene had never been as revolted as her parents would have liked. She had pitied them more , believing them to be the victims of Muggleborns who had stolen their magic.

“Why are you telling me this?” She didn’t mean to be rude. In fact, that Aminah confided in her like that made her want to hug the girl close but she didn’t get it. She was not just pure-blood, but from a family that had direct links to the riots, and the continuing prejudice against Squibs.

Aminah smiled faintly at her. “Because I trust you, even though I probably shouldn’t. And you trusted us, even though you had been told you definitely shouldn’t. I also want you to see the other side. My sister isn’t a potential victim of your ‘Lord’,” she made finger quotes when saying ‘Lord’. “She’s an incredible, smart, and beautiful little girl, who deserves to see a world free from prejudice and hate.”

Helene let the words sink in, feeling them deep in her chest. Looking Aminah deep in the eyes, she felt everything click into place. She reached for her hands, holding them in both of hers.

“Alright.”

“Alright,” Aminah repeated, squeezing Helene’s hands. “And if you ever need somewhere to go, we will help you. All of us will. You are not alone, and your parents are not your only choice; they’re just the easiest.”

The last part stayed with Helene. As they joined in the game of Charades, the eleven words kept floating around her mind. She went to bed with them, and when she woke up the next morning, she could have sworn she had dreamed of them.

“Your parents are not your only choice; they’re just the easiest.”

Chapter Text

“When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter’s mother in turn; and so it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.” Helene slammed the book shut and groaned. “I hate this.”

“Why do you hate it?” Remus asked, trying and failing to twirl a pen between his fingers.

“Why couldn’t Wendy stay on Neverland?”

“She had to grow up.”

“Well, why did she have to grow up? Peter doesn’t have to.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s a bloke; they get everything handed to them.” While she was sitting with them, Eileen had neither read the book nor had any interest in discussing it. Still, every now and then, she would voice her opinion, not caring whether it made sense.   

“No, it’s not because he’s a boy,” Remus said, throwing Eileen an amused glance. Then he paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hmm, you know what, maybe it is.”

“Aha!” Eileen grinned, and then turned back to her homework, seemingly having lost interest in the topic after being correct.

“Anyhow, it’s mostly because Wendy wants to grow up, while Peter doesn’t. Hence, the name of the story: Peter and Wendy; or, the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up.”

“Stupidly long name for a book.” Sirius threw himself over the back of the sofa they were sitting on. “Half of the book's word count is already in the title.”

“He said that’s what the story is called, you twit,” James said, joining Sirius’s place on the back of the sofa.

“They’re discussing a book, you twit,” Sirius said, and shoved James to the side.

Remus, seeing that James got ready to punch Sirius, interfered before they could spill one of the teacups littered around them. “It’s both. The name is the title of the play. A couple of years after writing the play, J. M. Barrie turned it into a book, which is called Peter and Wendy. But,” Remus hastened to say when James turned towards Sirius with a malicious grin. “He later published the play script and named it Peter Pan; or, the Boy Who Would Not Grow Up.”

Sirius and James both wore matching expressions of incredulity, and Helene had to stifle a giggle. Sirius was the first to recover. “What was that man’s problem?”

“Eh,” Remus said, his voice high-pitched. “There was some stuff.” He shrugged and then turned back towards Helene.

They had originally met up because Helene had finished reading Remus’s latest book that morning and needed to talk about it. Although spring had already begotten its flowers and balmy weather—making the student sweat in their winter robes and freeze in their summer ones—a light drizzle made sitting outside with a book an unwise idea.

So, they settled down in the East Wing. The large room had been deserted when they arrived, with the many scattered sofas unoccupied, which was no surprise. For reasons Helene couldn’t fathom, the student body of Hogwarts had never familiarised itself with the lounge.  

Helene didn’t mind that, though. With its high ceiling, dynamic paintings, and thick red curtains decorating the large fireplace, which stood proud as a centrepiece, it combined the familiar opulence she was used to with the sheltered ambience of Hogwarts.

Their peace had been short-lived, though. After only a couple of minutes, Sirius and James had found them and decided to stay. They had settled into a corner where they schemed over some papers, but over time they had shifted closer and closer until their voices overlapped with Remus’s and Helene’s. Eileen had joined shortly afterwards, and the calm atmosphere they had hoped for was completely lost.

“But I don’t understand why she would want to grow up. Wendy could have stayed on Neverland forever—Peter even wanted her to.” Helene did her best to focus on Remus, and ignore the rustling papers, and excited whispers coming from the two boys.

“I mean, she would have to mother the Lost Boys,” Remus said.

“So?”

“‘So?’ she was like 12 years old. You can’t be a mother at that age,” Remus said bemused.

“Why not?” Helene asked. She tried to keep it light-hearted, but there was a noticeable edge to her tone now.

“Helene,” Eileen said, her voice curt.

“What?” Helene crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not like she was a child. Plus, she was okay with being the mother.”

“We’ve talked about this,” Eileen sighed. While her lips were pinched, her eyes were filled with compassion.

Remus, however, let out a startled laugh. “What do you mean she wasn’t a child? She was 12. No one should be, let alone wants to be a parent at that age.”

Something in Helene’s chest twisted at Remus’s amused condescension. Just because he wasn’t used to it, didn’t make it wrong. She knew that Eileen and the other girls didn’t agree with her, and Helene could admit that it was a young age to be a mother, but it wasn’t that abnormal.

Her prolonged silence made Remus pause. “Helene, 12 is too young.”

The other noises had ceased, and with flushing cheeks she realised that Sirius and James had turned to them, listening in. “I’m not saying it’s not young.” Helene could hear how defensive she sounded, and it made her want to dash out of the room. “But 12-year-olds do and want a lot of things.”

“Motherhood is kind of a bigger deal than having sleepovers, or wanting a bike for Christmas,” Remus said gently. While he was still bewildered, it was clear that he tried to keep that out of his voice. “Children don’t know what they want, or who they’re going to be.”

“Guys,” Sirius spoke up. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes flying from person to person, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “Leave it. Who cares?”

But no one listened.

“We’re barely older than 12, and I know that I’m going to be a mother.” Helene jutted her chin out.

“Well, is that what you want?” James tilted his head.

Helene opened her mouth, ready to agree, and then closed it again. For some reason, the words wouldn’t form on her lips. The bitter taste of copper filled her mouth, and she realised that she had bitten her tongue.

“You guys wanna hear some of the names Lenny and I discussed for our future children?” Sirius asked quickly, wearing a sly grin. He walked around the sofa, sat down on the floor and propped his elbows on the table.

The general tumult that followed that question gave Helene a moment to collect herself. Her mind was buzzing, and her fingers were cramped around the book still in her lap. She didn’t need to think about that yet. In fact, she didn’t need to think about anything—she was at Hogwarts, and her future was so far away.

“What do you mean, future children?” Eileen’s voice was shrill.

“We were betrothed for over a decade.” Sirius shrugged. “Had to start at some point.”

Helene smiled at the memories. Afternoons spent arguing about names as if they were discussing future pets. Whenever a new koi joined the pond on the Feigrhail estate, Sirius and Helene would just select a name from their list, and gift it to the fish.

“Mate, that’s barmy,” Remus said, looking like someone had told him the sky was actually green.

“Go on then, tell us some of those names so that we can judge them for ourselves.” While James had until then sat with his mouth wide open, he had snapped out of it, and now wore a grin so large, it reminded Helene of the story of the Cheshire Cat. “Just to make sure that you don’t scar an innocent child for life.”

“Since when do you care about innocent children?” Sirius asked. The group laughed, but James seemed undisturbed.

“You can call me Uncle James.”

“No one is going to call you that,” Eileen said through her laughter.

“Ah, well, they should.”

“No.” Helene shook her head, her voice wheezy. “I don’t think they should.”

“Your children will.” James’s eyes were focused, and his face sincere. If it weren’t for the gleam in his eyes, and twitching corners of his mouth, Helene would have believed him.

“Oi! You stay away from my children,” Sirius exclaimed.

James and Sirius looked ready to stretch the discussion for as long as possible, but they were (luckily) interrupted by the creaking of the doors.

“I’m sorry, who’s supposed to stay away from whose children?” Peter and Pandora entered the room. They had excused themselves after lunch, and together with Aminah went outside in the rain to gather some saplings, which only unearthed themselves at a very specific temperature. Pandora and Aminah needed them for a Herbology project, and Peter offered to help them search.

By the looks of it, they had searched for a while. Although their robes were mostly dry, some wet patches darkened the fabric. Mud stains were visible on their legs, and Pandora’s hair hung damp around her shoulders, while Peter’s stood almost spiky in all directions. Drying spells were tricky, especially when one tried to dry water-soaked materials, or larger surfaces, so their bedraggled state wasn’t necessarily a surprise.

“James from Sirius and/or Helene, I’m not sure about that part.” Eileen smiled at Pandora. “Where is Aminah?”

Pandora stopped next to them, and Helene tried to brush off some of the dirt from her clothes. “She went to our dorm to change.”

“You guys probably should have done the same,” Remus scolded them half-heartedly.

“Meh.” Peter waved him off. “What’s the worst that can happen from a little water?”

Remus, Peter, and Helene’s gazes met, all wearing meaningful expressions. They knew exactly what the worst-case scenario was; having lived through it last year. Helene noticed that both Sirius and James looked away, choosing to stay quiet.

“Anyway, you want to elaborate on the children thing?” Peter asked, and he and Pandora seated themselves as close to the fireplace as they could without getting burned.

Remus pointed at Helene and Sirius. “These two had collected names for future children.”

“Uh,” Pandora sat up. “Tell us some.”

“You don’t want to hear Sirius’s, believe me,” Helene said, glaring at the boy. “I could never quite tell whether he just didn’t take it earnest—” Everyone who frequently spent time with Sirius got into the habit of doing their best to avoid saying the word ‘serious’. “—or if he actually believed that his suggestions were good.”

“Sirius Black II is a perfect name, and I won’t accept any criticism,” Sirius said, glaring back at Helene.

James, sporting a frown, spoke up. “Huh.” He rested his head on his hands. “I expected worse.”

Helene started to reply, ready to clarify, but Remus cut her off. “Pure-blood families use suffixes all the time, don’t they?”

“I mean, my family hasn’t yet, but Sirius’s definitely has.” At that, James turned to Sirius. “In fact, mate, don’t you already have a suffix?”

“Yes,” Helene said with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. “He is the third Sirius Black in his family. He doesn’t want to name his child Sirius Black II but Sirius Black II Black IIII. Which not only is a horrible name, but it also doesn’t make sense because if the boy’s first name is Sirius Black II then he wouldn’t need another suffix—he’d be the first in the family with the name.”

For a second no one spoke, and Helene could see the others comprehend what they'd just been told. She met Sirius’s eyes and lifted an eyebrow, grinning. They’ve been arguing about that specific name for years, never having been able to find common ground. The only one who could chime in had been Regulus, and he had always ultimately sided with his big brother, even though Helene knew he agreed with her.

The scrunched-up faces, and general speechlessness proved to Helene that she had been right all along. And judging by Sirius’s glower, he had realised it too.

“No, no, you just don’t get it. It’s brilliant, it’s subversive, it’s—”

“Extremely narcissistic?” Peter cut in.  

“I don’t know about ‘extremely’,” Sirius mumbled. “Besides, that wasn’t the only name I had. Some of my other favourites are Warzen, Gomito, Mullach, and Căscat.”

“Gomito is Italian for elbow,” Eileen said.

“At some point he stopped suggesting names that were actual names, and just went through dictionaries and picked words he liked,” Helene sighed. It had taken her a while to realise it; only when he suggested the word Packa did she question his choices. Although the origins of the Feigrhail family had become lost over time—which Helene could never quite understand how that could happen, when so much pride was interwoven with their history—her paternal grandfather had been born and raised in Sweden, and then later in life migrated to England. So, whenever Charles and Anne Feigrhail visited, he would insist on her learning Swedish.

Her grandmother—who had been born in England—would join Helene whenever she was forced to learn. Technically, there was no need for the woman to learn the language. They had never lived in Sweden, and her husband had been raised with both Swedish and English. But that wasn’t what it was about. Helene knew it wasn’t about necessity.

After all, she had been forced to learn French her whole life.  

Those afternoons—the ones filled with books and parchments, tea and warmth, whispers and a silent understanding so rarely shared between the women of the family—were treasured by Helene more than she could express. She didn’t care about learning Swedish; she did care about seeing the light return in her grandmother’s eyes, which had been dulled when she got married at 16 and vanished when she gave birth to her first and only son at 18.

Anne Feigrhail wasn’t a nice woman; she was strict, reserved, and seemed incapable of giving compliments without criticism following it. However, those special hours weren’t between grandmother and granddaughter, but between wife and intended, woman and girl.

Helene was never quite sure whether her grandmother thought she was doing her a favour in the same way she did.

“Christ, Helene, you dodged a bullet there, you did,” Remus said. “Actually, we should probably make sure that Sirius never fathers any children. That borders on child abuse.” Sirius reached over the table and punched Remus in the chest. He tried to retaliate, leaving both boys half-hovered over the table, smacking each other.

“What’s a bullet?” Helene asked and leaned back slightly to avoid getting caught in the skirmish.

“You know what a gun is?” Peter made a weird gesture with his hands. “Pew pew?”

“Uh, no.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

Sirius and Remus stopped hitting each other after James kicked both of them in the ribs. Helene thought that was a bit harsh, but it worked, and they sat back down, rubbing their sides.

“It’s not like Lenny came up with these great names,” Sirius grumbled. “She had only ever wanted to name her children after flowers.”

Sirius wasn’t wrong. At 3 years old, she had collected her first bouquet of flowers, and over the years, Helene’s interest in botany only increased. Most of her interests stemmed from the people around her, but nature was only ever her own.

On sunny days, she’d wander outside and collect whatever flowers she could find. Rainy days were spent curled up with books on flora and fauna, and guides on how to identify them. Her passion led to her room being filled with dried-up plants. When it was full, she’d hand the rest over to Sirius and Regulus, who never seemed happy about it, but also never told her to stop.

“I don’t know, mate,” James said, and his cheeks turned slightly red. “I think flowers are great names.”

“You would,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

Peter grinned and turned towards Helene, although his gaze stayed on James. “Ever think about naming your child Lily?”

“Shut your gob.” James threw a pillow at Peter, but it missed and landed dangerously close to the fire.

“Lily like Lily Evans?” Pandora asked. Peter nodded, and James turned to collect another pillow. “She’s nice. In fact, she offered to help me and Aminah with our Herbology project.”

“Oh, yes, the Muggleborn. She helped me a bit back in first-year to find my footing around the castle,” Eileen chimed in.

Helene knew of Lily Evans as well, although she had never had an actual interaction with the girl. With her fiery red hair and loud joyful laughter, the girl was well known—and liked—throughout the castle. Her altruistic tendencies only made her more of a beacon. Looking at James’s stark red face made it clear that he shared those beliefs.

“Ay, watch it, guys, you’ll make Jamsie jealous; that’s his future wife.” Sirius’s voice was light and teasing. He ducked quickly, but unlike Peter, he wasn’t able to dodge the pillow James hurled his way.

The group chuckled at Sirius’s affronted expression, almost drowning out James’s voice. “He isn’t wrong, though.”

“She’s not exactly your biggest fan.” Remus looked at James, having heard his muttering.

“Yeah, plus if you married her, Snivellus would practically be your brother-in-law.” Sirius shuddered.

Severus Snape—‘Snivellus’ as James and Sirius called him—was another third-year Helene hadn’t yet interacted with. Being in the same house as him, Regulus had mentioned Snape from time to time. From what Helene had gathered, the boy was a bit of a social recluse, although he tried not to be. A problematic aspect of his was his very public friendship with Lily, whose blood-status made her rather unpopular in Slytherin. Not to mention Snape himself wasn’t pureblood, although he tried his best to make people forget that.

“Don’t even joke about that,” James said, looking as if the thought alone made him sick. His eyes wandered down to the floor where he and Sirius had previously sat and stopped at the papers scattered around. A devious grin formed on his lips. “In fact, I think we should teach him a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Sirius asked, but when he noticed what James was looking at, he too started grinning. “Oh, a lesson.”

The two boys went back to their papers wearing matching foreboding expressions. Eileen joined Peter and Pandora at the fire, leaving a head-shaking Remus.

Remus looked tired, but then again, he almost always looked that way. It seemed that whenever he got better, his sickness would return before Remus could fully recover, bruising him with permanent dark circles under his eyes, and a complexion so pale, you could mistake him for one of the many ghosts haunting the castle.

Whenever he got sicker, there’d be a day where he was at his worst. His sickness would turn outwards, and no one was safe from Remus’s drastic mood swings and cutting words. Helene herself had been a victim of it once, but now that she knew what was going on, she had learned how to deal with it, and how best to behave and help him when it came to it.

But then again, that wasn’t quite true. She didn’t know what was going on. Helene knew Remus was sick in some sort of way, but the frequent, almost cyclic nature of his affliction, and the draining symptoms torturing him had never been given a name or an explanation. She tried to tell herself that she had no right to know about his personal troubles, that he didn’t owe her anything. Still, the topic wouldn’t leave her brain, spinning around in her head when she was trying to sleep.  

Sometimes, when insomnia would visit her at night, and the faint light of the moon shining through the authentic-looking windows in her dorm would tickle the ends of her blankets, an epiphany in the form of a thorn would drill itself into her thoughts.

There was something… An explanation for his ailment, a name for his agony. It was logical and horrifying and so obvious at the same time. If it were anyone other than Remus, Helene would have spoken it aloud already, demanding answers because it couldn’t be what she thought it was.

But it was Remus, and it wasn’t that.

Whenever morning came, she had already forgotten or disregarded the idea. She’d go about her day not wasting another second on something so ridiculous. However, once in a while, the thought would find her during the daytime in the form of Remus’s hazel eyes. The green normally framing his irises would vanish, and a brown so light it looked like melted honey emerged.

In the flickering light of the fire, Remus’s eyes looked yellow, and a prickling sensation spread through Helene’s body.

But it couldn’t be, so Helene simply looked away.

“I think the ending is not just frustrating, it’s also tragic.”

Upon hearing her voice, Remus turned toward her, leaning back into the cushions. “Hm?”

“Of Peter and Wendy. Peter’s wishes didn’t come true; he was wrong. Everyone must grow up. They have an island, and magic, and an endless supply of adventures, but no one ever stays. Ultimately, they leave Peter, and he has to pick new children.”

“But we knew that from the beginning. Here,” Remus said and took the book out of her hands. He opened the first page and started reading. “All children, except one, grow up. We are told the ending of the novel in the opening sentence. We know what will happen—that Peter is the only one who gets to stay a child.”

“Knowing something is going to happen doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy.” Helene was looking down at her fingers, scratching the skin around her nails. “What do you think is more tragic, that they all have to leave Neverland eventually, or that Peter can’t do the same?”

“You think he can’t?” Remus was frowning.

“I don’t know, maybe. Perhaps he has been a child for so long he can’t fathom the concept of growing up. Plus, he keeps forgetting everything. He forgot his past life completely.”

“And yet, he’s searching for a mother,” Remus said, his voice low. “A mother he probably lost a long time ago, because he forgot he even had her. With his own selfish and childish ideas, he destroyed his life, and now can never go back. All that because he didn’t want to accept who he would become.”

Remus closed the book, and then closed his eyes. A. deep sigh made him sink even further into the sofa. He turned his head and opened his eyes, looking at her.

“I think you just ruined one of my favourite books for me.” His lips were upturned, but in their shared gazes, an understanding passed.  

A loud cackle sounded, snapping both out of the moment. On the floor sat James and Sirius, hunched over loose pages of parchment. They were scribbling on them, interrupted only by their whispers and chortling.

Remus’s shoulders tensed at their antics. It was like a shudder passed through his body, and before Helene could react, he slowly turned towards the boys on the floor. For a second, when he turned his eyes reflected the orange flames, which burned brightly, although their warmth seemed to fade from the room.

“Could you two keep it down?” It wasn’t a question, but it seemed like neither Sirius nor James recognised the sharpness in Remus’s voice. Without looking up, they continued as they had been doing. “We chose this place because we wanted silence.”

At that, Sirius looked up. “Look, pal, it’s a public space.”

Helene winced at his facetious tone. He just couldn’t help himself. But where normally Remus would deflect his taunts, or play into it, this time he did neither. Instead, Remus glared at Sirius, his nails scratching the smooth fabric of his trousers.

“We were here first. Whatever rubbish you two are—”

“Rubbish?” James now looked up too. “We are constructing a masterpiece.”

“Could you construct your masterpiece somewhere else?” Remus’s words were spoken slowly and deliberately, and Helene swallowed.

“Nah,” Sirius said. “Sorry, but Snivellus got what’s coming for him.”

Remus opened his mouth, but before he could speak a word, he closed it again. His chest rose and fell, and his fingers stopped moving. Out of the corner of her eye, Helene could see that the other three had stopped speaking, their attention now focused on the confrontation unfolding in front of them.

With one last calm breath, Remus stood up from the couch and wandered over to Sirius and James. The two looked as confused as Helene felt when Remus then bent down and picked up the parchments. He looked at them for a couple of seconds, tidying them up into a neat stack. His expression was blank during the process, and Helene didn’t know what was going on or what he would do next.

After he was done, he turned, and for a second Helene thought he would just leave the room altogether. But instead of walking towards the door, his long confident strides led him to the centrepiece of the room, and it dawned on Helene what he was going to do.

It seemed that Sirius had the same thought. He sprang up and tried to reach Remus. “Hey! What are you doing?”

But Remus didn’t stop. When he was only a step away from the fire, he started to extend his arm, ready to throw the plans into the blaze. But Sirius had caught up to him and grabbed Remus’s arm and the parchments.

“Remus, this is crazy, stop!” Sirius and Remus were tugging the parchments back and forth, neither willing to cease their efforts.

“Hey, guys, maybe don’t do this?” Helene agreed with Peter’s worries, but Remus and Sirius ignored his discomfort.

Suddenly, Sirius yelped and stumbled backwards; Remus had kicked him in the shin. His own staggering disrupted the moment of celebration on Remus’s behalf. The momentum made him fall backwards, and Helene felt her heart stop. He managed to catch himself on the stone of the fireplace, but he let his arm continue to swing, finally releasing the parchments into the flames, which swallowed them up immediately.

However, he hadn’t let go of the parchment early enough, and his arm grazed the fire before he could yank it back.

Everyone scrambled up and toward Remus, who was holding his arm with wide eyes. He wasn’t screaming, only growing even paler by the second. Pandora carefully pulled up his sleeve, and James tugged Remus to sit down, with the other two fussing over him as best as they could.

Helene felt the uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. Rooted to the sofa, she could only watch as everyone made sure that their friend was doing okay. Her breath hitched when Sirius turned to look at her, and before she knew it , she was on her knees beside Remus.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Remus said, and although his voice wavered slightly, Helene believed him. After what happened over the winter holidays, Helene knew what different burns looked like. Her hand still bore a light scar—a reminder of the evening she wouldn’t be able to forget, anyway.

Remus’s arm was deep red, and his sleeve had a hole singed into it, but the lack of blisters made Helene exhale. His wound looked closer to what Regulus’s—whose wound had healed up completely over the months—had looked like.

Sirius seemed to come to the same conclusion, and his shoulders dropped. “Merlin, Remus. Don’t to something like that.” He said it like a ruling, all the glee having left his voice.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, and Remus nodded faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. What are you sorry for? Just don’t be a nitwit.” Sirius gave Remus a light slap on the shoulder, grinning at him. “Ah, forgot that that is your natural state of being.”

“Yes, that is my natural state of being,” Remus said, but he too started to smile.

“At least you’re self-aware. Now, come on, up and about. Let’s get you to the Hospital Wing.” Together with Peter, Sirius helped Remus back to his feet. James hovered behind them, looking as if he was ready to catch Remus any second. Their previous plans were all forgotten.

The four boys went to leave the room, but Remus stopped before they reached the door. He turned around and looked at Helene, who was still sitting on the floor. “We’ll continue talking later, okay?”

“Okay, goodbye.”

Remus tutted. “Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

“Did you just quote the book from memory?” Sirius sighed. “You’re lucky I didn’t know how much of a swot you were when we became friends, or otherwise I might have rethunk the whole thing.”

“Rethought. And you’ve always known that I’m a swot.” The sounds of the boys’ laughter were still clear after they had left the room, but Helene just stared at the door.

Going away means forgetting. There was a pit in Helene’s stomach, and she didn’t know why. All she knew was that the thought made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. It smelled of mud and mould. When she opened her eyes, she had to reorient herself. For a flash, she sat somewhere else, far away from the safe walls of Hogwarts, in almost complete darkness.

“Helene?” Eileen’s face appeared in her line of vision. “You alright?”

Helene nodded, and then shook her head, trying to get rid of the wary feeling. “Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t worry; this was crazy,” Eileen said. “Anyway, we were just talking about the Potions assignment. That man is insane if he thinks I’ll do all of that.”

Helene smiled as Eileen riled herself up the longer she spoke about her least favourite professor. Sometimes, she or Pandora would chime in with their own opinions, which only encouraged Eileen in her rambling.

Only when the full moon watched Helene as she tried to fall asleep that night, did the unease return.

Darkness. Mud. Mould. Her heart stopped, but she wasn’t dying.

When Helene woke up the next morning, she had forgotten all about it.