Grimmauld Place had a strange rhythm now.
Mornings were quiet. Almost peaceful. Most of the Order members had jobs or surveillance duties that took them away early. The house, once overcrowded during evening meetings, became nearly serene during daylight hours.
Rose had come to appreciate those mornings.
Silence made studying easier.
Breathing easier.
But today, she had left early.
Even Sirius had agreed she needed air after a week largely confined to the house, buried in legal texts and notes. The trial loomed closer with every sunrise, and tension had begun settling into her shoulders.
So she went out.
Quietly.
Sirius trusted her judgment.
Inside Grimmauld Place, noon approached lazily. Molly bustled in the kitchen, preparing lunch. Remus sat reading intelligence reports. Sirius lounged on a sofa, half-dozing. Fred and George whispered about some experimental product in a corner.
Then—
The fireplace flared emerald green.
Flames roared unexpectedly.
Arthur Weasley stumbled out of the Floo, brushing soot from his robes. His glasses were slightly askew, and his expression carried urgency rarely seen on his gentle face.
Molly rushed forward immediately.
"Arthur? What's wrong? Why are you back so early?"
Arthur normally worked full days at the Ministry. Noon appearances were unheard of.
Something was definitely wrong.
Arthur held up a parchment.
"This arrived at the Ministry," he said, voice tight. "For Rose."
The room fell silent.
"They've tried sending it three times already," he continued. "But the owls kept returning without delivering it. The Fidelius Charm must have confused them."
He exhaled slowly.
"So I took it myself."
Molly's face paled slightly.
"What does it say?"
Arthur unfolded the parchment carefully.
"The trial is rescheduled. Three days from the original notice."
A pause.
"Which means… two days from now."
Remus removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
No one had truly believed the Ministry would move this fast.
Or this aggressively.
"We should have been preparing," Molly murmured.
Arthur nodded grimly.
"Rose has been."
That much everyone knew.
While the rest of the household debated order stuff, Rose had studied relentlessly. Alone. Refusing assistance, politely but firmly.
"I tried helping," Hermione said quietly from the doorway. "She wouldn't let me."
"She wants control," Sirius said simply.
Arthur looked around.
"Where is she?"
Sirius answered casually.
"She stepped out. Needed air. She's been cooped up all week."
That was all it took.
Molly's composure snapped.
"You let her go out?" she demanded.
"Yes," Sirius replied calmly.
"Alone? With everything happening? With the Ministry after her?"
"She can handle herself."
"She's fifteen!"
The argument ignited instantly.
Molly's voice rose first.
"This is exactly what I mean, Sirius! You give her too much freedom. Too much responsibility. She needs protection!"
"And locking her inside isn't protection," Sirius shot back. "It's imprisonment."
"She could be attacked!"
"She could suffocate emotionally staying locked up!"
Arthur tried intervening.
"Let's stay focused—"
But neither listened.
"She's already under enough pressure," Molly insisted. "The trial, the war, everything!"
"And you think treating her like glass helps?" Sirius countered.
"I think keeping her safe does!"
"She was safer facing Voldemort than facing neglect from friends this summer!" Sirius snapped.
That struck deeper than intended.
Hermione flinched visibly.
Ron stared at the floor.
Molly's expression softened slightly, but frustration still dominated.
"You don't understand motherly concern."
"And you don't understand war survivors," Sirius replied quietly.
That silenced the room.
Remus finally spoke gently.
"She won't do anything reckless. She's cautious. More than most adults I know."
Arthur folded the letter again, thoughtful.
"She'll want to see this immediately."
Sirius took the parchment.
"I'll give it to her when she's back."
Molly crossed her arms but said nothing further.
The quarrel cooled, though tension lingered.
Everyone now felt the approaching trial more acutely.
Two days.
And Rose had chosen to face it largely on her own terms.
Rose had thought she was prepared for anything Helios might show her.
She had seen great magical duel up close. She had seen Voldemort rise from bone and blood.
But nothing prepared her for the sight before her.
They had only walked a short distance beyond the protective concealment of Grimmauld Place before Helios had apparated two of them.
The landscape shifted.
And then she saw it.
The Black Manor.
Rose stopped walking entirely.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The estate stretched wide across open land, rolling fields enclosed by subtle magical boundaries that shimmered faintly under the afternoon sun. Beyond the cultivated grounds, rising like a shadowed memory of the past, stood a ruined castle.
Its broken towers clawed at the sky, weathered stone walls whispering of centuries gone by. It did not look abandoned — it looked preserved. Honored.
And before it, standing proud and luminous—
The manor.
White stone walls gleaming in sunlight. Tall windows framed in dark wood. Expansive balconies. Elegant spires that hinted at magical architecture but maintained a distinctly refined, almost Muggle-modern aesthetic.
It was powerful.
Rose stared.
"This is yours?"
Helios allowed himself a small smile.
"Yes."
She turned slowly, taking in every detail.
"This is… enormous."
"It's home," he replied simply.
They approached the entrance. Massive doors carved with subtle runic patterns opened at a mere gesture from Helios.
The interior was even more breathtaking.
Polished marble floors reflected the light from grand chandeliers. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork — landscapes, star charts, ancient Black family crests refined into elegant designs rather than oppressive declarations of blood supremacy.
Everything gleamed.
Everything felt… new.
"It doesn't feel old," Rose murmured.
"It isn't," Helios said. "The bones are ancient. The rest is new."
He guided her through room after room.
A grand library spanning two floors, with a sliding ladder and endless shelves packed with leather-bound volumes.
Rose stepped forward instinctively, running her fingers across the spines.
"These aren't new books," she said quietly.
Helios smirked faintly.
"No. The books at Grimmauld are decorative. Bought recently. Useful, but shallow."
He gestured toward the towering shelves around them.
"These are the real collection. Gathered from every Black property. Preserved for centuries."
Rose's eyes widened.
"Hermione would faint."
"She's not invited," Helios replied casually.
Rose laughed — a genuine, unguarded sound that echoed beautifully through the hall.
He showed her the potion laboratory — shelves of pristine glassware, labeled ingredients sorted meticulously. An enchanting chamber lined with inscribed runic circles. A training hall reinforced with protective wards.
"This is… incredible," she breathed.
Helios studied her carefully.
"You're ready for the trial."
She looked at him sharply.
He began asking questions — rapid, layered, precise.
"What if they accuse you of reckless endangerment?"
"I will cite self-defense statute seventeen-b subsection three."
"What if they challenge witness credibility?"
"I'll demand formal testimony under oath and cross-examination."
"What if they question your mental stability?"
"I'll use their own denial of Voldemort's return as evidence of institutional incompetence."
He nodded slowly.
"Good."
She crossed her arms. "You knew I was ready."
"I needed to see it."
He stepped back.
"Now you need to relax."
She blinked.
"Relax?"
"Yes. You've studied enough. Anxiety is the only thing that can sabotage you now."
Rose hesitated.
And then, for the first time in weeks, she allowed her shoulders to loosen.
Later, as they stood overlooking the fields behind the manor, Helios spoke casually.
"I'm considering building a Quidditch stadium here."
Rose turned to him, startled.
"A stadium?"
"Why not?"
She shook her head, smiling.
"You are ridiculous."
"Possibly."
He summoned two brooms from a nearby rack.
"One-on-one?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"With what goalposts?"
He flicked his wand.
A single golden goal ring materialized at one end of the open field.
A Quaffle floated into his hand.
"Improvised rules."
Rose grinned.
She mounted her broom instantly.
The wind rushed past her face as she launched into the air. It felt different here — open sky, no city constraints, no watching Order members.
Just freedom.
Helios positioned himself as Keeper.
"First to ten attempts?" he called.
"Deal!"
Rose wasn't primarily a Chaser — her instincts leaned more toward Seeker — but she adapted quickly. She looped around him, testing angles.
First shot.
Blocked.
Second.
Scored.
She laughed.
Third.
Scored again.
They played fiercely. Competitive. Focused. Yet lighthearted in a way neither had allowed themselves in weeks.
Out of ten shots, Rose scored seven.
Helios scored six when they reversed roles.
She hovered midair, triumphant.
"I win."
He gave her a mock bow.
"You do."
They descended, breathless, laughing softly.
For once, there were no Ministry politics. No Voldemort shadows. No Order business.
Just two teenagers flying under open sky.
Time slipped unnoticed.
Until Helios glanced at the horizon.
The light had shifted.
"It's late," he said.
Rose froze.
"Oh."
Grimmauld Place would have noticed her absence by now.
Probably panicked.
She sighed.
Helios gave her a knowing look.
"It's about time I make an appearance anyway."
She tilted her head.
"You?"
He nodded.
"They should know you weren't wandering alone."
Rose studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
He extended his hand.
"Ready?"
She took it.
The manor shimmered behind them as they prepared to leave.
The shouting had started long before sunset.
By the time darkness settled fully over London, Grimmauld Place felt less like a headquarters for a resistance movement and more like a battlefield of clashing egos, anxieties, and simmering resentment.
The dining room — normally messy but functional — had become the epicenter of chaos.
Members of the Order crowded around the long table. Some stood, some paced, some argued loudly enough that even Kreacher had retreated to the kitchen muttering darkly under his breath.
Rose Potter was still not back.
And that fact alone was enough to ignite panic.
Molly Weasley was at the center of it.
"She is a fifteen-year-old girl, Sirius!" she snapped, voice rising yet again. "It's already dark outside! You don't even look worried!"
Sirius Black leaned back against the wall, arms folded, expression oddly calm compared to everyone else.
"She's safe," he said simply.
"That is not an answer!" Molly fired back.
Alastor Moody, scarred face twisted into a grim frown, thumped his magical eye socket irritably.
"You're giving that girl too much independence, Black," Moody growled. "War's coming. She's a target."
"And locking her up isn't protection," Sirius shot back. "
Remus Lupin, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped in.
"He's right," Remus said gently but firmly. "Rose needs agency. After everything she's been through…"
"Oh, don't start, Remus," Molly cut him off. "You two always indulge her. She needs structure. Guidance. Not— not this!"
Fred and George, seated near the far wall, exchanged looks.
"Ten Galleons says this ends in Mom hexing Sirius," Fred muttered.
"Make it fifteen," George whispered back.
Ron and Hermione looked deeply uncomfortable. Ginny simply watched, arms crossed, silently siding with Rose as always.
Percy, standing closer to the hallway, kept glancing toward the door — anxious but trying not to show it.
At the head of the table, Albus Dumbledore observed everything quietly.
He wasn't intervening.
He didn't even seem sure which side to support.
The tension thickened.
"She's just a child!" Molly insisted.
"She's not your daughter," Sirius replied sharply. "She is my goddaughter."
"And where exactly is she?" Moody demanded.
Sirius's jaw tightened.
"I won't tell you."
Silence followed that.
Then Molly exploded again.
"This is reckless, Sirius! You promised James you'd protect her!"
"And I am protecting her," Sirius snapped back. "By trusting her."
Voices overlapped. Arguments multiplied. The entire Order started dividing into sides without even realizing it.
Even Dumbledore sighed quietly.
And then—
The front door opened.
No one noticed at first.
Except Percy.
He turned instinctively.
And froze.
Rose Potter stood there.
Beside her stood a boy.
Dark-haired. Same age.
Percy blinked.
"Uh… Rose?"
She smiled briefly.
"Hi, Percy."
Then she walked forward casually toward the dining room, completely unfazed by the shouting echoing from inside.
The boy followed her.
Confident.
His arm rested casually across her shoulders.
That alone made Percy uneasy.
By the time they reached the dining room entrance, the shouting was still ongoing.
Until someone finally noticed the unfamiliar figure.
Conversation stopped mid-sentence.
Silence crashed down.
Every head turned.
Helios simply smiled pleasantly at everyone.
"Evening."
Sirius broke first.
Relief flashed across his face.
"There you are," he said lightly. "What took you so long?"
Helios shrugged.
"Oh, I was just showing Rose around the house. Time slipped away."
Several people stiffened at that.
Showing her around what house?
Molly Weasley stepped forward, suspicion radiating off her.
"Who are you?" she demanded in her usual commanding tone.
Helios tilted his head slightly.
"Who are you?"
That… was not the response she expected.
Several Order members blinked.
Even Moody's magical eye paused its constant spinning.
Before Molly could respond, Helios snapped his fingers softly.
"Oh wait. I know."
He studied her thoughtfully.
"You're Walburga Black, right?"
A couple of suppressed snickers escaped Fred and George instantly.
Molly looked utterly baffled.
"No, I am not!"
Helios blinked innocently.
"So you're not Walburga Black?"
"I just said I'm not!" Molly snapped.
His expression changed.
Instantly.
The friendliness vanished.
The room temperature seemed to drop.
"If you're not Lord Black's mother," he said quietly, voice suddenly sharp, "then who the fuck are you to shout at him in his own house?"
Absolute silence.
Even Dumbledore's eyes sharpened with interest.
Helios continued, calm but unmistakably dangerous.
"You're a guest here. Act like it… or get the fuck out."
Nobody breathed.
Nobody spoke.
Sirius actually laughed nervously, clearly both shocked and impressed.
"Well," Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck, "since introductions got… dramatic…"
He gestured toward Helios.
"Everyone, this is my son. Helios Black."
That caused another ripple of shock.
Dumbledore watched Helios very closely now.
The boy's demeanor shifted instantly again.
The tension evaporated from his posture.
Bright smile returned.
"You guys carry on," Helios said cheerfully. "Rose and I have studying to do."
Before anyone could respond, he took Rose's hand casually.
"Come on."
She went without hesitation.
Together they headed upstairs.
Leaving behind a room full of stunned witches, wizards, and one very intrigued Headmaster.
Fred whispered first.
"Blimey."
George nodded.
"I never saw someone make mum silent."
And Dumbledore?
He said nothing.
But his eyes followed Helios Black long after the boy disappeared upstairs.
Author's Note:
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