𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ♡ Sirius Black

CH 12 - The Return

The heat is stifling, even with the windows open. Summer in London is usually a dull affair—rainy days, clouds, and a constant dampness clinging to the air—but this year, it feels like I’ve brought the Italian sun back with me. Only it's hotter and feels like a weight pressing down on me.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, still unpacking my belongings after my return from Italy—clothes, old books, half-empty vials of herbs, all thrown haphazardly into my trunk during a frantic last-minute decision to come back to London.

I pause my unpacking, letting my fingers run over the edges of the old leather suitcase I’ve dragged across Europe. My skin still holds a faint tan from the sun but Ospedale Magico di Sant'Elena and the town of Vallomare feel distant already, and although London has been my home for most of my life, I feel homesick.

Everything feels too close. Too suffocating.

I tug at my collar, trying to loosen the feeling. On top of my clothes lies an Italian wizarding newspaper with the front page facing up, which I brought along to remind myself why I agreed to return.

Harry’s face stares back at me with the headline in large, bold letters: Harry Potter è il Campione Tremaghi... ma a Quale Prezzo?

(Translation: Harry Potter is Triwizard Champion… but at what cost?)

My chest tightens as I lift the paper, my fingers smoothing over the parchment. It's been weeks since the final task of the Tournament, and the rumours have travelled across borders, down to the small wizarding town of Vallomare, which is perched on a cliffside in the Amalfi region with sweeping views of the azure Tyrrhenian Sea. It’s a long way from London.

Voldemort has returned. But hearing it from the safe distance of Vallomare was different from facing it here, back home.

Back where it all started.

I wonder how many more lives it will take this time. And I wonder if I’ll be one of them.

The knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I toss the paper onto the bed and cross the room. As I open the door, the dim light reveals Moody, his electric-blue eye spinning wildly before locking onto me. He grunts, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Well, come on in. Make yourself at home,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Ellie,” he says, his voice as gruff as ever. “About time you’re back.”

“I got your message and came back as soon as possible,” I reply, closing the door behind him. “Not like I had much of a choice, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” He leans against the bedpost, crossing his arms over his chest, his eye swivelling between me and the suitcase. “You look... healthy.”

I narrow my eyes. “What are you implying, Moody?”

“I’m implying,” he says slowly, “that the last time we saw you, you weren’t exactly... reliable.”

Anger flares in my chest. “If you think—”

“I’m just asking if you are.” He cuts me off with that bluntness only Moody can pull off. “Reliable. Clean. Can we count on you, or should I send you back to Italy right now?”

My pulse quickens, and I can feel my jaw clench. But I have no right to be angry, because I know he’s right. When Moody last saw me, I was hanging around the Ministry looking for someone to hear me out, skipping work and living on the bare minimum of sleep and food. “I’m getting my old job back at St. Mungo’s. I’m not taking potions or Muggle narcotics anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”