13; GOD REST YE, MERRY HIPPOGRIFFS

When they got back home, Elara watched Harry run up to his and Ron's room and shut the door behind him. She was very worried about him. When he didn't show up for dinner, her worry reached a different level.

She wanted to go and see if he was alright, but she was also aware that he might not want to see anyone, and that maybe she should wait until he came to talk to her. That would be more comfortable for him. He wouldn't have to be forced that way.

The next day, she helped her father put up decorations, happy to see him singing and dancing around the house. Hermione managed to come over, having ditched her skiing trip with her parents. She went straight to Harry's room.

Later that evening, Harry came to her just as she expected he would. She knew he had to calm down. She knew that he would get angry and lash out if he was forced to talk before he was ready, and from what Hermione told her after their conversation, she only managed to talk to him once he'd let all his anger out on them.

She was sat in her bedroom, laying spread-eagled on the rug in the middle of the room with a dagger floating above her. It was one Theodore got her for her last birthday. It was silver and the handle was black with emerald on the hilt.

She was practicing her telekinesis, considering there was only so much she could read about it, and she was getting better, which was why she was on the floor throwing the dagger above her and catching it with her telekinesis before tossing it back up and catching it once more.

Someone knocked on the door and she almost didn't catch the dagger. "Come in." She said as she tossed it back into the air. The door opened and Harry walked in just in time to see her catch the knife with her powers seconds before it slammed into her chest.

Elara flipped the knife in her hand expertly before throwing it onto the bed and patting the space beside her. "What were you doing?" Harry asked, sitting down beside her, and leaning against the bed.

"Practicing my telekinesis." She replied, leaning against the bed as well. "How have you been?"

"Fine." But after she glared at him, he sighed. "Better than I was yesterday. I was going to leave."

"Leave as in, back to Hogwarts?"

"No, back to Privet Drive."

"Harry." Elara snapped her head in his direction with a disbelieving look on her face.

"I know, I know. I wasn't thinking. It was just- it was the one place where I wouldn't be able to hurt the people I love." Harry rubbed his hands over his eyes, and then ran a hand through his messy black hair. "But your great something grandfather sent a message from Dumbledore. Says to stay where I am."

"I don't agree with Dumbledore normally, and you know this. But he's right. You need to stay here, where we are. Where I am. I can protect you. With Voldemort out, who knows what could happen. You're still underage, and you can't use magic to protect yourself should anything happen."

"Yeah. I just- you saw what happened with Mr Weasley. And- and- they said Voldemort was possessing me. I just freaked out."

"Understandable. I'd be more worried if you didn't freak out. It's only normal. But, it's all going to get sorted. Dumbledore can't let his golden boy fall into the hands of the enemy, can he?"

"You'll be here, won't you?" Harry bit his bottom lip, looking down.

Elara brought her hands to cup his cheeks and made him look up. "Yeah, of course I'll be here. Any time you need me, you just say the word and I'm there. Always." She kissed his forehead and wrapped him in a hug.

After that, Harry seemed less sullen and he helped get the place ready for Christmas. The chandeliers were glimmering gold and were covered in trailing streamers and garlands of holly. There was mistletoe scattered in random places in the house, and a massive Christmas tree blocked the Black family tree from view.

On Christmas day, they had a lovely breakfast together after opening their presents. "Has anyone seen Kreacher?" Elara wondered, noticing that the elf hadn't been around lately. She oddly missed him, but maybe that was because he liked her and made her sweets.

"Haven't seen him." Harry shook his head.

"He must be hiding upstairs." Sirius commented. "I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something. Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died. But I mustn't get my hopes up."

"Come on, Dad. He isn't that bad." Elara rolled her eyes.

"You only say that because he likes you. 'Cause you're a Slytherin." Sirius shuddered.

"Something wrong with that?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh no, nothing at all." Sirius replied.

"Slytherin's are the best house, I know. But, it's alright, Dad. Gryffindork's aren't all that bad. No need to be sad you didn't get into Slytherin." Elara pouted. Theodore, sat beside her, choked on his juice as he laughed suddenly.

"Cheeky little-" Sirius shook his head, amused.

After lunch, Elara accompanied the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione to visit Mr Weasley, being escorted by Mad-Eye and Remus. St. Mungo's was decorated nicely for Christmas, with the crystal orbs now in red and gold, grown in size. Holly was hung around the hallways and white trees were covered in magical snow. It was also less crowded than last time.

They went straight to the ward this time, not needing to ask for directions. After they handed him their presents, Mrs Weasley noticed something. "Arthur, you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

The redheaded man brought his blankets higher on his chest, a frightened expression coming over his face. "What?" No, no, it's nothing. It's- I- well, now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea, he's the Trainee Healer, you know. Lovely young chap, and very interested in- uh- complementary medicine. I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies, well they're called stitches, Molly and they work very well on- on Muggle wounds-"

Elara winced at the look on Mrs Weasley's face. "Do you mean to tell me, that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

She could see Bill leaving and Fred and George accompanying him. "Not messing about, Molly, dear. It was just- just something Pye and I thought we'd try. Only, most unfortunately, well, with these kinds of wounds, it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped-"

"Meaning?"

"Well- well, I don't know whether you know what- what stitches are?"

Elara whispered to the four around her that they should probably leave. And, they basically sprinted to the door, and as it closed, Elara could hear Mrs Weasley explode in anger. "Typical Dad." Ginny shook her head.

"They do work well on non-magical wounds." Hermione mused.

"But they're painful, as you can imagine. Sewing skin back together using a needle and thread. Bloody hurts." Elara winced at the memory of getting stitches before she was at Hogwarts because she fell from a tree and bashed her head on a rock on the ground.

"Suppose you've had stitches then?" Ron asked as they headed to the stairs.

"Yeah. Years ago. Before I went to Hogwarts. Based my head in. 10 stitches." She brushed her hair aside on her forehead and showed them a scar near her hairline. "Hurt like a bitch."

"I can imagine. Where's the tearoom?" Hermione asked.

"Fifth floor." So, they went up the stairs, walking by various portraits that tried to diagnose them with sicknesses and offer remedies that seemed more likely to hurt rather than heal.

"What floor's this?" Ron asked.

"I think it's the fifth." Hermione replied.

"Nah, it's the fourth. One more." Elara shook her head, but everyone stopped, staring. There was a man sat beside a window. A man with wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes and a blinding smile. "You have got to be shitting me."

"Professor Lockhart." Hermione sounded breathless.

He walked towards them, dressed in a lilac dressing gown. "Well, hello there! I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"I'd rather die." Elara said bluntly.

"How are you, Professor?" Ron asked.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you. now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"We don't want any at the moment, thanks." Ron refused. "Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?"

"Haven't we met?" The older man asked.

"Yeah, we have. You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?" Harry explained.

"Teach? Me? Did I?"

"Teach? More like bullshit." Ginny whispered to Elara, who snickered, high fiving the younger girl.

"Taught you everything I know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say around a dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

Someone walked out of the other rooms. "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

"Naughty boy?" Both Ginny and Elara whispered to each other, shocked, disturbed and amused at the same time. The woman was a motherly looking Healer with a tinsel wreath in her hair. She smiled at the group stood there.

"Oh, Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why. He's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"She talks like he's a dog." Elara rolled her eyes.

"We're doing autographs! They want loads of them, won't take no for answer!" The blond man smiled. "I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him." The Healer took his arm and beamed fondly at him. "He was rather well known a few years ago. We very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents. The door's usually kept locked, not that he's dangerous! But, bit of a danger to himself, bless him. Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back. It is nice of you to have come to see him."

Ron tried to protest but to no avail. "Let's not stay long." He said to the others, getting nods back.

The Healer pointed her wand at the Janus Thickey ward. "Alohomora." The door swung open and they walked in. She led their former Professor in and set him in an armchair beside a bed, which Elara assumed was his bed.

"This is our long term resident ward. For permanent spell damage, you know." She said to them in a quiet voice. "Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement. Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr Bode. He seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we recognise yet. Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat."

As Elara looked around, she could see the signs that showed it was a ward for permanent residents. There were personal things surrounding each bed. As soon as Lockhart was sat, he pulled photographs and began signing them. "You can put them in envelopes." He tossed the finished ones at Ginny. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail. Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly. I just wish I knew why. I suspect it is simply my good looks."

"Here you are, Agnes." The Healer said to a furry-faced woman, handing her a pile of Christmas presents. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sent an owl to say he's visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?"

The response back was a series of barks.

"And look, Broderick. You've been sent a potted plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month. They'll brighten things up, won't they?" She says to a mumbling man, setting a plant on his bedside table, and sticking the calendar to the wall with her wand. "And- oh, Mrs Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

Elara turned around at that comment. She knew Frank and Alice Longbottom were in this ward. She just never expected to run into them or Augusta and Neville. They were sat near two beds, and Augusta was dressed in a long green dress, and a pointed hat that was a stuffed vulture. Behind her, was Neville. He didn't look very happy.

"Neville!" Ron called. Neville jumped. "It's us, Neville! Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

Elara nudged Ron in the ribs sharply, rolling her eyes at his lack of tact. She walked forward towards Neville and Augusta. "Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" Augusta asked.

Neville was flushed. Elara almost smiled. She knew Neville quite well, having been asked by McGonagall to tutor the boy. "Hello, Neville." Elara greeted.

"Hi, El." He mumbled back, giving her a short hug.

"Ah, yes." Augusta fixed her eyes on Harry. She held her hand out for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Thanks." Harry replied.

"And you two are clearly Weasleys." She offered her hand to Ron and Ginny. "Yes, I know your parents. Not well, of course, but fine people, fine people. And you must be Hermione Granger. Yes, Neville's told me all about you. helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you."

Hermione looked startled but shook her hand, nonetheless. Then Augusta turned to Elara. "Elara Black, am I right?"

"Yes. It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Longbottom." Elara had a charming smile on her face. "You've raised a wonderful boy here. Neville's a good kid."

"Yes, he's told me about you as well. Tutored him in Transfiguration, did you?"

"Yes, I did."

"He hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say." She jerked her head towards the two beds.

"What?" Ron looked shocked and Elara almost strangled him. "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" Augusta looked shocked. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

"Mrs Longbottom, I'm sure Neville would have told them in time. I can understand it would be a sensitive topic for him. His parents were very brave, and what happened to them was truly tragic." Elara said politely, trying to take the heat off the embarrassed younger boy.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed." Neville said faintly. Elara placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it. My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers." Augusta said haughtily. Hermione and Ginny covered their mouths in shock and Ron looked mortified. By the lack of reaction from Harry, Elara assumed he already knew. "They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community. Highly gifted, the pair of them. I- yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

Neville's mother had come towards them in her night dress. She looked different from the photographs Elara had seen. Long gone were the plump cheeks and happy face. It was thin and worn now, her eyes overlarge and her white hair wispy and dead-looking. She didn't speak, simply made motions towards Neville, holding something in her hand.

"Again?" Augusta sounded weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well. Neville, take it, whatever it is." Neville had his hand opened and his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper. "Very nice, dear."

"Thanks, mum." Neville said quietly.

Alice walked away, back to the ward, humming to herself. "Well, we'd better get back." Augusta pulled her gloves on. "Very nice to meet you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin. She must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom."

But, Elara saw Neville slip it into his pocket. She gave him a hug goodbye and watched as he walked away with his grandmother, head hung low. "I never knew." Hermione looked tearful.

"Nor did I." Ron replied.

"Nor me." Ginny whispered.

"I knew." Harry said. "Dumbledore told me, but I promised I wouldn't mention it."

"Of course I knew." Elara replied. "Dad's told me all about it, and it was his cousin who did it. Bellatrix Lestrange. She's the most awful person ever. In Azkaban now, but terrible, terrible person."

Elara shuddered at the thought of that woman, the one who constantly plagues her thoughts. Now that Voldemort was back, she had no doubt he would be looking for his right hand woman. And when he found her, all hell would break loose.