The Godmother

39. the dark magic

Returning home was more uncomfortable than anything in the entire world. The apartment was quiet again, after housing Sirius and Harry on the holidays, it was completely silent. Like the turned had flicked its 'off' switch. Desolate and angry, Elizabeth shut the door.

She stared at everything. Her walls, her furniture. Her floors and windows and the damned tv. How it would play non-stop the entire time Sirius was home.

She felt angry, not because she was alive, but because she didn't die. Maybe dying would have been better than the feeling that she felt- whatever it was. Complete isolation. The equivalent of living in a desert, or the middle of a jungle. Only her jungle was made of concrete. Her jungle had four walls and people outside, only they weren't allowed in- even if they knew there was a door.

She stood in the doorway for a total of 2-minutes before deciding that she didn't want to be in the house. It wasn't her. She'd spent a long enough time being lonely for someone who grew up surrounded by people. Surrounded by James and Sirius, Lily and Peter. She couldn't bare being alone again. The apartment was a constant reminder of Sirius being ripped from her. The 12 years that she resided there, alone.

She'd had enough, so she turned around and walked out.

It was the last thing she wanted to do. In truth, she wanted to go home. But where was home? Birds with clipped wings don't know what flying is.

She ended up quietly walking through the Leaky Cauldron. The pub smelt the same, of fire and butterbeer. It gave some warmth, but only to her toes. She walked straight through with no intention of stopping until she reached Diagon Alley, which wasn't in vain to find.

As soon as she stepped into Diagon Alley, she noticed how quiet it was. Was it because they felt her coming? What with all the dark magic she had in her system. Maybe Artemius could help?

She walked through the alley, only to find his shop closed down.

She carried on, walking through Diagon Alley with no complete objective. She stamped her feet against the ground. Anger pulsing through her magic. Until she looked up and found herself beside Atticus' shop.

She pressed her hands against the door and stepped in. The receptionist wasn't there and the lights were all turned off, except that of the light of Atticus' office at the end of the hallway.

She marched straight towards it, her arms folded around her chest.

She rounded the corner to Atticus' office to see him holding up his wand at her. He stood by the door, his eyes watching carefully in fear. His desk was covered in paper, in pictures.

Immediately, he dropped his wand. "Elizabeth", he gasped, tossing it onto the piles of paper. "I didn't realise it was you", he sighed, dropping himself back into his leather desk chair.

"You thought I was a thief", Elizabeth stated, guiltily.

"I didn't know what to think", he corrected, "you didn't announce yourself".

Elizabeth looked at her feet. It was exactly what she knew she should have prepared for. Atticus felt the dark magic the second she walked into his shop. And it was stupid of her to have done so without declaring who she was. To a blind man, she was a death eater.

"How come you're here?", he asked, shifting in his desk.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I can't be at home. Its too quiet. I don't like quiet anymore", she said.

Atticus nodded. "That is understandable".

"What are you working on?", she asked, pointing to the desk.