THE LOST DOG ' s. black

[6] 12 grimmauld place

AS I stepped through the heavy door of Grimmauld Place, a mix of dread and determination washed over me. The air was thick with history, and a faint mustiness clung to the walls, whispering secrets of the past. I wasn’t just stepping into a new place; I was entering a new chapter of my life—one filled with danger and uncertainty.

“Welcome to the Order, Eloise!” Molly’s cheerful voice broke through my thoughts as she stepped forward, a reassuring smile on her face. Harry, Hermione and Ron flanked her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” I managed, my voice slightly shaky. I glanced around, taking in the worn furniture and the walls lined with photographs of serious-looking wizards and witches. It was both intimidating and oddly comforting.

“Don’t mind the decor,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s been like this forever. I think it’s supposed to be… historical?”

“It’s definitely something,” I replied, forcing a smile. Just then, I spotted Remus Lupin entering the room, his presence as a beacon of familiarity. My heart lifted a little.

“Eloise,” he said warmly, “I remember you from my class. It’s good to see you again, even under these circumstances.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I said, feeling the weight of his words. It was comforting to have someone here who recognized me, who knew I wasn’t just some random kid thrown into this chaotic world.

Before I could say more, the door creaked open, and I turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized him: Sirius Black. But this wasn’t the Sirius I knew—this was the older version, the one I had only heard stories about. His hair was slightly grayer, and the weight of past mistakes was etched on his face.

He paused, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You must be Eloise,” he said, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“Uh, yeah. It’s… nice to meet you, Mr. Black,” I stammered, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. This was the man I had learned about in the whispers of the Gryffindor common room—the infamous Sirius Black, who had spent years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit.

His expression softened slightly, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made me uneasy. “You’ve come a long way,” he remarked, his tone serious. “It’s dangerous here, especially now.”

“I know,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “But I want to help. I want to do whatever I can for my dad and for everyone else.”

Sirius studied me for a moment, his expression shifting as if he were weighing my resolve. “That’s admirable,” he said finally, his voice low. “But this isn’t just about bravery. It’s about surviving.”

“Surviving is exactly why I’m here,” I replied, surprising myself with my own confidence. “I’m not afraid of what’s to come.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then a hint of a smile broke through his serious demeanor. “Good. You’ll need that spirit. Just… stay close to Harry and the others. They know what they’re doing.”

“Right,” I said, feeling a flicker of hope. Despite the weight of the situation, I was beginning to feel a sense of belonging here. I was part of something bigger than myself, and though the road ahead was uncertain, I wasn’t alone.

As I observed him further, a stark contrast began to form in my mind. Older Sirius was hardened by loss, his eyes reflecting a deep well of pain and regret. I remembered the carefree laughter of 1977 Sirius, his silver hair framing a face lit up with mischief and charm. He had been reckless and brave, always up for a prank, always ready to leap into danger for the thrill of it. But here, the older version seemed weighed down by a lifetime of mistakes and the burden of a war that had claimed so many.