" mary's flaked again . "

i. The replacement
6522 Words

AUGUST 1ST, TUESDAY. "Marigold," Remus called absently, his voice soft and distracted, as though the name had merely slipped out. The girl looked up, dark curls shifting as she turned her head. She sat cross-legged on the worn sofa, the frayed edges of a knitted throw brushing her knees. Her wand—sleek, polished, and new—rested in her lap. She'd been turning it over in her hands, marveling at the smoothness of the wood.

It was worlds apart from the crude, mismatched one her parents had fashioned for her at eleven, hidden away in their cramped cottage in a nameless little town.

   "May," she corrected, her tone even, almost detached. Her face betrayed no flicker of annoyance, just quiet insistence.

   "Ah, right. May," Remus murmured, nodding faintly as he corrected himself. He leaned back in his chair, fingers absently tracing the curve of the tea cup balanced on his knee. "May..." he repeated under his breath, as though testing the name.

   The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a single lamp perched precariously on a stack of books. Shadows danced across the wooden beams of the low ceiling, giving the cabin an air of both coziness and melancholy. Everything about the place whispered of solitude—patched furniture, stacks of parchment gathering dust, the faint scent of tea leaves mingling with the sharper tang of ink.

   May's gaze flickered to him briefly before dropping back to her wand. She wondered what it must feel like, living in such isolation. For a wolf, perhaps it was fitting—hiding away from the world, cloaked in shadow and silence.

   "You all right, then?" Remus asked suddenly, the warmth in his voice cutting through the quiet.

   She nodded, her lips curving into the faintest semblance of a smile. "I'm fine."

   "Bit knackered, though, I expect," he continued, his gaze softening. "New wand suits you, though. It's got a bit of... flair to it."

   May tilted her head, brushing her thumb over the wand's polished surface. "It's better than the last one, that's for sure," she admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching into something wry. "Didn't think I'd ever see a wand shop, let alone have one made proper."

   Remus smiled faintly, his expression tinged with something like regret. "You should've had that from the start. Every witch deserves a wand that's truly theirs. That other thing... well, let's call it a learning experience."

   May chuckled softly, a quiet, breathy sound. "A bit rubbish, more like."

   He shook his head with a small, knowing grin. "You've done well with what you've had. That's no small thing."

   The cabin fell quiet again, save for the occasional creak of wood as the wind shifted outside. May looked around, her fingers still absently turning the wand.

   Remus broke the silence first, his voice soft but thoughtful. "I suppose, since I'm technically a sort of..." He trailed off, searching for the right word.

   "Guardian," May supplied calmly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

   "Yes, that." He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Though you are seventeen, and therefore not quite a child, you're still, well... under my care. Technically." He shifted in his chair, a little awkward. "I reckon that means I ought to give you the lay of the land—Hogsmeade and whatnot. You've only seen half of it, I'd wager. And like Hogwarts..." He paused, his brow furrowing as he fumbled for an example. "Well, for starters, you should never go into the Forbidden Forest. Especially not on your own."

   May arched an eyebrow, a touch of amusement in her expression. "I like nature."

   "Not this kind of nature." Remus's tone was dry, his mouth twitching as if suppressing a smirk. Then, more softly, he added, "Though it makes sense. Your mum loved nature, too. But the Forbidden Forest is..."

   "Forbidden for a reason," May finished, her voice steady as she echoed the familiar words. "She used to say that all the time."

   Remus's gaze lingered on her for a moment, something flickering in his expression—nostalgia, perhaps, or a quiet sorrow. "Wise words," he murmured, half to himself. "Your mother was always good with words. But—uh the forest..." He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "It's not just trees and wildflowers, you know. It's full of things that'd think twice about eating you—if you're lucky. Even I don't go in there without good reason."

   May tilted her head, her curls spilling over one shoulder. "You sound like you're trying to scare me."

   "Not scare you," he said with a faint chuckle. "Just... warn you. I'd rather not explain to anyone—least of all your mum—why you've gone missing because you fancied a stroll through the forest."

   She laughed softly, a rare break in her usually composed demeanor. "Fair enough."

   Remus leaned back again, his expression softening. "There's plenty to enjoy around here without wandering into trouble. Hogsmeade's not far—you'll like it, I think. Bit mad, but charming in its own way. And Hogwarts..." His voice trailed off for a moment, as though lost in thought. "Well, it's got its dangers, but it's still one of the safest places you could be. Just mind the trick staircases and Peeves."

   "Peeves?" May asked, her brow furrowing.

   "Oh, you'll meet him soon enough," Remus replied with a grin. "Let's just say he's one of the less appealing features of the castle. Likes to cause trouble for the fun of it. Keep your wits about you, and you'll be fine."

   May nodded, her lips quirking into the barest hint of a smile. "Sounds like a laugh."

   "Until he starts pelting you with chalk," Remus muttered, his tone wry. Then, more seriously, he added, "You'll settle in, May. It'll take time, but you'll find your place. Just... try not to give Minerva too much grief, eh?"

   "I'll behave," she said, though there was a glint of mischief in her eyes that made him raise an eyebrow.

   "Hmm," he murmured, unconvinced but not unamused. Remus stood up slowly, brushing off his trousers as he stretched his arms above his head. "Well, we're going to be here for a while before we head off, so you might as well get comfortable in my... humble abode," he said, casting a sweeping glance around the dimly lit living room. His voice carried a hint of sarcasm, though it was clear he knew the place wasn't exactly luxurious. The space was modest, and while it had its charm, it wasn't the sort of home that would make anyone's heart skip a beat.

He eyed her for a moment, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not much to look at, but it gets the job done," he muttered, though she could tell he wasn't trying to make her feel unwelcome.

May surveyed the room, letting her eyes linger on the worn armchair tucked in the corner and the faded tapestries that hung from the walls, their colors muted with age. It was dark, the light flickering faintly from a lone fire in the hearth. The shadows made the room feel like a safe, quiet pocket of the world, secluded from everything. It wasn't the most cheerful place, but there was something comforting about it—a quiet, steady sort of peace.

"It's cozy," she said, her voice calm and unruffled. She gave a small nod as her fingers traced the edge of her new wand, the wood smooth under her touch. She was already starting to feel at home, though she knew she might be the only one who'd appreciate the ambiance. Bright, cheerful people might find the place dreary, but May wasn't bothered by it. She had seen enough darkness to not mind it so much.

Remus glanced over at her, a slight furrow in his brow. He watched as she sank back into the couch, the cushions giving way under her, making her seem almost at ease despite the somber air that hung around the cabin. He noticed how she didn't fidget or seem unsettled in the slightest. She was like a door of steel—unreadable, hiding behind a wall of calm. Ever since she'd left home, she'd become like this. It was as if everything she felt had been locked away, far from reach.

May didn't show much of anything. No excitement. No dread. Just a kind of quiet acceptance of whatever life threw her way.

She sat back further into the cushions, her back relaxing, and he caught the small sigh of relief that escaped her lips. It wasn't loud or exaggerated, but there was something in the way she settled that made him feel assured. At least here, at least for now, she was comfortable.

"Good," Remus murmured to himself, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It was enough to see her so at ease, though she wouldn't admit it out loud.

His hands briefly rested on his hips, and with a final glance toward her, he gave a small nod. "Right then, I'll prepare lunch." His voice was casual, but there was something almost paternal in the way he said it, like he was offering her a bit of stability, even in the small things.

May didn't answer, not needing to. She simply nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

As Remus walked into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps fading into the background, the cabin fell back into a quiet, peaceful stillness. May stayed where she was, her thoughts as still as the room around her. She let herself relax, sinking into the worn cushions, the flickering firelight dancing in her eyes. It wasn't much, but in that moment, it was enough.

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August 4th. The air in the cabin felt heavier than usual, a palpable tension hanging in the stillness. Remus had been different today—on edge, more withdrawn than he had been on the first day. He'd left the house several times, never offering more than vague words about meetings, keeping the details to himself. May noticed it immediately, the change in his demeanor. Something had clearly happened.

He'd been avoiding the topic, and she could tell it wasn't just the usual wariness. There was something else in his eyes, something that suggested he didn't want her asking questions. But that was never going to stop May. She might not know exactly what was going on, but she could feel it—something had shifted, and it was connected to whatever he'd been up to in his frequent absences.

That evening, as they sat together at the worn dining table, the quiet stretched on longer than usual, only the occasional clink of cutlery breaking the silence. May's eyes never left him as she toyed with her plate, the words forming in her mind before she finally spoke.

"Does whatever's happened have something to do with the boy?"

Remus froze mid-bite, his fork hovering just above his plate. Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers, a slight furrow in his brow. "Boy?"

May exhaled, a small but sharp laugh escaping her lips. "Harry Potter, of course," she said, her voice dry and almost teasing, as though the question was the most obvious thing in the world.

The corners of Remus's mouth twitched in a brief, almost imperceptible smile, though it was quickly replaced by a more guarded expression. "Right, Harry." He cleared his throat, his voice taking on a tone that was purposefully vague as he sipped his glass of water. "He's alright," he said, keeping it short.

May's gaze never wavered, and she set down her fork, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. "Will I get to meet Harry?" she asked, her tone calm but tinged with something unspoken—curiosity, perhaps, or the thrill of pressing on despite his attempts to deflect.

Remus leaned back slightly in his chair, raising an eyebrow at her question. There was a glint in his eye, and despite his attempt at masking it, May could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Will you?" he echoed, his voice light. "Of course you will. No reason why not."

May tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She didn't miss the way his tone shifted, the subtle change that suggested there was more to the answer than he was letting on. But she didn't press. Not yet.

The conversation fell back into a comfortable silence, but this time it wasn't as heavy. May was sure she hadn't gotten everything out of him.

Remus, seemingly eager to change the subject, cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly, his tone casual yet inquisitive. "Have you, er... gotten to explore much magic now that you're seventeen? Maybe Apparition, or something along those lines?" He offered her a small, questioning smile, as though the answer would offer some insight into how she had spent her time.

May paused, her eyes flicking toward the fire crackling softly in the hearth before she looked back at him, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. "I've done magic," she said, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "Just not Apparition. I actually don't leave the house much with my mum." There was an almost unnoticeable hint of something in her voice, a quiet resignation that seemed to settle around her like an old, familiar cloak.

Remus tilted his head, studying her for a moment, a thoughtful frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even with your knowledge of magic?" he asked, clearly surprised. "I thought perhaps I'd have a few things to teach, but you seem... almost settled in everything already."

May chewed thoughtfully for a moment before responding, her expression cool and unaffected. "My mother wanted me to be capable of protecting myself, if it came to it," she said, her words deliberate and measured, as if they'd been said before, rehearsed. She set down her fork, her gaze unwavering as she met his. "I'm not exactly the type to rely on others for protection, you know?"

The firelight danced in her eyes, casting a warm glow on her features, but there was something unreadable in her expression—a quiet intensity that suggested her relationship with magic was more complicated than Remus might have assumed.

Remus gave a small nod, his lips pressing together in a thin line as he took in her words. It was clear that May was no stranger to the weight of responsibility, and it wasn't lost on him how much her mother's expectations had shaped her.

May finished her meal, the quiet clink of her fork against the plate the only sound in the otherwise still room. She carefully set down her utensils and wiped her hands with her napkin, the soft fabric brushing against her fingers.

"Uhm, I'm going to go... get ready for bed," she announced, her voice calm but carrying a hint of finality as she stood.

Remus looked up from his plate, his brow furrowing briefly as he nodded. "Have a good night, May," he said with a warm smile that was genuine, yet tinged with the quiet exhaustion of the day.

She met his gaze with a small smile of her own. "You too, Remy," she added smoothly, before turning and walking toward the hall. The nickname, a playful jest born on the second day of her stay, slipped from her lips with such ease now. It had been a joke at first—something to break the initial tension—but it had become something more. She noticed, with a subtle satisfaction, that the more time passed, the more she found herself slipping into a rhythm with him.

Her sarcasm had sharpened, the jokes growing more frequent, more biting, yet somehow lighter. She laughed at his humour, though sometimes her laughter was less about amusement and more about sparing him the awkwardness of a joke that had fallen flat. He'd caught on quickly, and in those moments, they shared a laugh not just over the joke but over her blunt honesty.

The cabin was beginning to feel more like home, or at least, a place where she could let her guard down a little more. She no longer held herself so tightly in check, her words and actions flowing a little more freely, her walls not as high.

The nickname "Remy" had started as a jest, but now it seemed to be more than that. The way she'd say it when exiting a room, or casually calling for him when he was in another part of the cabin, almost like a command rather than a request, had become part of their routine. She had her own way of saying it—casual, almost affectionate—and it was growing on him, much to his quiet surprise. The thought of her calling him "Remy" now didn't feel strange, it felt natural. It was the sound of her comfort, her own way of making herself at home in a place that wasn't quite hers yet.

May walked down the dimly lit hallway, her footsteps soft against the wooden floors. She reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door to the bedroom that had been set aside for her. It wasn't a perfect fit for her, but she made do. A few of her things were scattered about—the corner of the room held a stack of books, their spines worn from use. A picture of her and her parents, taken when she was about eleven, sat on the small bedside table, its frame a little chipped but treasured all the same.

She sat down on the bed, which creaked under her weight, the faint sound of old springs shifting as she settled herself into the covers. She ran a hand along the edge of the bed, the rough fabric of the blanket beneath her fingers. The room was small, but it felt cozy, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the window, casting a gentle glow over everything. It was a far cry from the cold emptiness of her old life, a life of waiting for something to change, for something to be different. This place, with its quiet charm, was something else entirely. It was a place she could be.

May let out a slow breath, her eyes drifting over the room as she took it all in, before finally closing her eyes, feeling the weight of the day slowly lifting from her shoulders. The night wrapped itself around her, warm and familiar, and for the first time in a long while, May allowed herself to relax, just a little bit more.

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August 6th. May sat on the worn sofa, her fingers absently twisting a strand of her jeans, eyes unfocused as her mind wandered over the conversation that had transpired only an hour or two ago. Remus had pulled her aside and revealed everything—about the Order, about the war brewing, about her mother's involvement, and her own part in all of it. It had been a lot to take in. The weight of it was heavy, and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

   Remus had explained the need for her mother's alliance with the Order, but he hadn't shared much about the specifics of the mission. That much she understood—there were secrets within secrets, things that couldn't be shared, not with her, not yet. He'd also mentioned the situation with Harry Potter, the boy being attacked by a Dementor—though even then, he seemed reluctant to provide details.

   Most striking, however, had been his admission that no one, not even the Order, knew that he'd taken her in instead of her mother. He hadn't said it outright, but May could tell it had been a last-minute decision, one made in the heat of the moment, and now here she was, in the midst of it all, trying to make sense of her place.

   Her eyes flicked to the clock as she absently tapped her fingers on the armrest. Time was a strange thing here. How long had she been sitting alone in this unfamiliar room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place? She had asked for solitude, to gather her thoughts while the meeting continued, but now it felt as though she was simply waiting for the next thing to happen.

   The place was strange—hidden away in plain sight, nestled between two other buildings. It felt like it shouldn't exist, as though the very air around it should have been buzzing with the weight of its magic. But there it was, solid, quiet, and unfathomably old, the kind of place that made you feel small simply by being in it.

   Her mind wandered briefly to her first arrival, when the whirlwind of introductions had begun. Molly Weasley had been the first to greet her, her voice warm and a touch hurried as she ushered her into the house. May could still hear the words ringing in her ears, Molly's voice full of affection and concern.

   "Oh, dear, you're just as beautiful as your mum," Molly had said, her gaze sweeping over May as though inspecting her for any sign of trouble. "May, right?" she'd asked, confirming her name with a glance.

   May had nodded, but before she could respond, Molly had swept her off towards the other side of the house, the sound of her voice carrying down the hall. "May Macdonald is yet another girl! Remus! Another child!" she had shouted, her tone filled with a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

   May had overheard the conversation that followed, her heart sinking as she listened to the clash of voices.

   "What difference is she compared to Mary!" Remus had retorted, his voice steady, though there was an underlying frustration. "It's her daughter."

   "You're right, her daughter! Her seventeen-year-old daughter!" Molly had snapped back, her voice rising with each word. "She's not far off from Harry's age! She's a kid, Remus. I will not let a kid wander around the Order, getting herself hurt. Not her. If Mary doesn't want to continue this, fine, but May cannot!"

   May had felt her heart sink at Molly's words. She understood the concern, but it stung all the same. She wasn't a child—not anymore. She was seventeen, capable, and she didn't need to be protected like one.

   The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Remus standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a gentle smile. "Come on, kiddo, we're about to eat," he said, his voice soft but with a hint of encouragement. He was trying to ease her discomfort, and though he was always gentle with her, she could see the unspoken worry in his eyes.

   She stood up slowly, brushing a hand through her hair as she made her way towards him. A small part of her couldn't help but wonder what the others would think when they saw her. Would they look at her as Molly had? A child, in need of protection? Or would they see her for who she was now?

A deep breath filled her lungs, steadying her for whatever lay ahead. She wasn't sure what the next few days would bring, but for the first time in a long while, she was ready to face them head-on.

   The pair stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the silence of Grimmauld Place settling heavily around them. May trailed slightly behind Remus, her steps cautious as her eyes roved over the ancient walls, their surfaces covered in peeling wallpaper and darkened portraits. It felt as though the house itself was alive, creaking and sighing with every movement.

   Without warning, a sudden brush of cold air passed by her, and May jumped, clutching at the edge of her jacket. "What the—?" she muttered, her voice breaking the stillness.

   Remus stopped in his tracks, his arm instinctively slipping around her shoulders as they both turned to see a hunched figure shuffling past. It was a house-elf, though May had never seen one quite like this. Its wrinkled skin was ashen, and its large, bloodshot eyes glared disdainfully at the floor as it muttered under its breath.

   "Filthy half-breeds and their little Mudblood sympathisers," the creature hissed, its tone venomous. "Darkening the noble house of Black. Kreacher does not approve, no, he does not. Disrespectful, unworthy, sullying Mistress' sacred halls with their dirty presence. Kreacher remembers when this house was pure..." The elf's voice trailed off as it disappeared around a corner, still grumbling to itself.

   May stared after it, her face a mixture of shock and revulsion. "What the bloody hell was that?" she whispered, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as though to ward off the lingering chill.

   "Kreacher," Remus said with a sigh, his tone laced with both irritation and resignation. "The house-elf of the Black family. He's been here longer than most of us have been alive, and he's stuck in the past, to say the least."

   "Bit of an understatement," May muttered, still eyeing the hallway where the elf had vanished.

   Remus's lips quirked up in a faint smile at her dry tone. "Don't let him get to you," he said gently. "He's all bark and no bite. Kreacher's words might be sharp, but he hasn't the nerve to do much more than mutter and glare."

   "Yeah, well, he's creepy as anything," May replied, her nose wrinkling. "Does he just lurk around like that all the time?"

   "Unfortunately," Remus said, his hand giving her shoulder a light squeeze as they resumed their walk down the corridor. "But not all house-elves are like Kreacher. Some are quite kind—loyal, even. He's just..." Remus trailed off, searching for the right words. "A product of his environment."

   "Right," May said, her tone sceptical. "Well, I'll be steering clear of him if I can help it." She shivered slightly, pulling her jacket closer around her as they passed by a particularly grim-looking tapestry.

   Remus smiled softly. "A wise choice," he said. "But truly, you've got nothing to fear from him. He's more of a nuisance than anything else."

   May nodded, though she still cast wary glances at the shadows as they walked. The house seemed to groan around them, its dark corners and ancient furniture looming like silent spectators. Yet, with Remus's arm draped protectively over her shoulder, she felt a small measure of comfort.

   "Come on," he said, steering her gently towards the staircase. "Dinner's waiting, and I'm sure Molly's got enough to feed an army. Best not keep her waiting."

   The two continued down the dimly lit hallway until they reached a doorway. May hesitated, her hand lingering on the doorframe as she stood frozen for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. As Remus moved to step inside, she didn't follow immediately, her gaze locking onto the figures within.

   The first man she noticed was seated at the far end of the room, a tall, dark-haired figure whose sharp jawline and piercing eyes struck her as strangely familiar. He was dressed in fine, though slightly worn, wizarding attire—a dark tailored coat that spoke of wealth and experience. His posture was rigid, his presence commanding.

   Next, she noticed another figure—a much older man—standing in the corner, leaning slightly on what appeared to be a wooden leg. His other eye, the one that wasn't quite right, swirled unnervingly in its socket, the dark magic of it almost making her shudder. His gaze met hers, and she felt an odd chill crawl down her spine.

   She took an involuntary step back, just as Remus, sensing her unease, released her from his protective hold and stepped inside. The door creaked shut behind him.

   Then, Molly appeared in the doorway, her usual warmth shining through despite the tense atmosphere. "Well, come on, dear," she said brightly, ushering May inside with a firm but gentle grip on her hand.

   May could feel the weight of the stares as soon as she stepped into the room. Eleven pairs of eyes—some curious, others skeptical—were fixed upon her. The air in the room was thick with silence, save for the faint hum of conversation at the other end. She stood still for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar faces, before reluctantly looking back at Remus. His reassuring smile softened her nerves.

   "Don't let the old man scare you," Remus muttered under his breath, glancing towards the one-eyed figure.

   May's attention turned back to the older man with the magical eye as he slowly shifted his gaze from Remus to her. A glint of suspicion crossed his face, but he said nothing at first. Instead, it was the dark-haired man who spoke, his voice gruff and full of irritation.

   "I was expecting Mary Macdonald," Alastair Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly as he glared across the room. "And instead, you've brought an unfamiliar face. Peculiar one, too..." He muttered the last part under his breath as his eye flicked to May, scrutinizing her every move.

   "Peculiar sees peculiar," May responded without thinking, her words slipping out almost instinctively as she held his gaze, eyes narrowed. She didn't know why, but she couldn't resist the challenge his presence presented.

   A small chuckle escaped Remus, who had already picked up his plate and was eating with casual amusement. "A bit of a sharp tongue, she has," he murmured to no one in particular.

   May glanced around the room, her eyes briefly catching two boys sitting together at the table. They shared identical features, down to their mischievous grins, their laughter barely contained as they exchanged knowing glances.

   Remus stood up from his seat, walking over to May with a reassuring nod. As he reached her, the air between them seemed to crackle with tension, the unspoken challenge of the room palpable. He cleared his throat, his gaze flicking back to the group.

   "Alright, alright," Remus said, his voice firm yet calm. "Mary Macdonald couldn't make it." He paused, glancing at Sirius, who was watching the exchange with growing concern. "She's... well, she's not here. But in her place, and as a member of the Order, I present her daughter." Remus shot a quick glance at the table, his expression softening as he spoke her name, "Marigold. May."

   A sudden silence fell over the room, the weight of Remus's words hanging in the air like a spell. A shocked gasp came from Sirius, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stood from his seat. "What?" he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and confusion.

   A boy turned in his seat, his round glasses catching the light as his piercing green eyes met hers. A faint scar peeked from beneath his messy black hair. Harry Potter, May thought instantly, her heart skipping a beat. The stories, the legends, they were all true.

   The other kids at the table were predominantly ginger, and she couldn't help but assume—correctly, she figured—that they were all Weasleys. There was one, though, who stood out from the crowd. A brunette with wavy, almost curly hair, a look of quiet confidence in her eyes. Another woman, sitting near the corner, caught her attention. Her hair was bright purple, and the way she carried herself spoke of someone who didn't mind standing out.

   "Daughter?" Sirius Black's voice cut through the air, disbelief thick in his tone. "As in Mary Macdonald has a child?" He stood abruptly from his seat, his dark eyes studying May with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

   "Mary's flaked again," Mad-Eye Moody grumbled from his corner, his magical eye swiveling in its socket to focus on the conversation.

   "I don't quite care about that," Sirius muttered, brushing off the comment as he walked toward May. He stopped a few feet away, giving her an almost scrutinizing glance before breaking into a grin. "I'm Sirius," he introduced himself with a slight bow, extending a hand. "Sirius Black."

   May hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between his hand and his face. She then shook his hand firmly. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a quiet determination in her stance.

   "She's a child," Mad-Eye spoke again, his gruff voice cutting through the air, his magical eye narrowing at her.

   "Nonsense," Sirius countered, his tone almost dismissive. "She's—"

   "I'm seventeen," May interrupted smoothly, her voice steady and clear. There was no room for debate in her tone, and the silence that followed her words felt weighty.

   "Seventeen!" Sirius raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, look at that."

   "She's still a child," Molly Weasley interjected, her motherly instincts taking over as she shot Sirius a pointed look.

   "She's two years older than our Harry here," Sirius argued, gesturing toward Harry, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

   "That is not any better, Sirius," Molly replied, trying—and failing—to keep the irritation from her voice. She softened her tone when speaking to May. "She's a sweetheart, truly, but her mother is an adult. Mary is still seventeen, only a few months now."

   "And we were expecting Mary," Mad-Eye added once again, his one eye spinning around in his head.

   May finally turned to face Mad-Eye directly, her gaze unwavering. "My mother will not step foot in the wizarding world again," she said sharply, her voice steady but full of conviction. "That should've been evident. She's in hiding, and that's where she'll stay. I'm here in replacement of her, and I'm not turning around to go back to school with a bunch of Muggles, especially when it took me four days to even get her to allow me to step foot outside the house. The only places I ever went before were a Muggle school or some daft field trip when I was twelve." Her words were clipped, direct, and left no room for argument.

   "She is not safe here," she added, her eyes now fixed firmly on Mad-Eye.

   "And you are?" Mad-Eye's voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence. "If your mother's a Muggle, what does that make you?"

   "I'm half-blood," May replied, her tone firm but not defensive. "I'm not as nearly in danger as she would be. I can fend for myself."

   "Where has she locked you up, then?" Mad-Eye continued, his skepticism growing. "No one knew of your existence. Where have you been kept—under a cottage, perhaps?"

   "She's well-trained, Mad-Eye," Remus said quickly, standing up from his seat, his voice calm but firm. "If I thought she was unprepared, she wouldn't be here. Her father was half-blood. Both her mother and father taught her self-defense. She is not fragile."

   May gave Remus a slight nod, her eyes flicking briefly toward the group of Order members. She could feel their eyes on her, weighing her every word. But she wasn't going to let their skepticism shake her. She was stronger than that.

   "We've agreed on Harry," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and shooting Molly a pointed look. "What more d'you lot need to agree on May?"

"Well, how do you feel about it?" Remus asked, glancing at Sirius with a knowing smile.

"I reckon if it were James rather than us lot harboring her kid, Mary wouldn't have taken four ruddy days to say yes," Sirius replied with a wicked grin, the twinkle of mischief in his eye causing Remus to chuckle quietly.

Molly huffed, her hands wringing together before she finally relented with a sigh. "Alright—alright," she muttered, taking a seat beside Arthur.

May cleared her throat softly, inclining her head in a small gesture of acknowledgment. She had just made her case to a room full of strangers, and she was painfully aware of Mad-Eye Moody's scrutinizing gaze. His magical eye spun briefly in her direction, making her shift in her seat. He doesn't like me much, she thought. Well, the feeling's mutual.

Sirius and Remus shared a small, triumphant celebration, Sirius clapping his hands together while Remus gently led May to a seat at the long wooden table. The tension in the room ebbed away almost instantly, replaced by a more familiar, boisterous energy. A loud pop! from across the room made May jump, her hand reflexively twitching toward her wand.

"FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!" Molly bellowed, rounding on one of the identical ginger boys. "Put that wand down this instant!"

Both twins erupted into laughter, identical grins plastered across their freckled faces. May's lips twitched upward before she quickly hid her amusement behind her hand.

Molly cleared her throat, brushing off the outburst as she turned to May with an entirely different tone. "May, love, are you hungry?" she asked gently, her motherly warmth breaking through the earlier tension.

"Yes, please," May replied politely with a small nod. Molly smiled and bustled off toward the kitchen, leaving May to take in the strange, chaotic scene unfolding around her.

Her gaze landed on Harry Potter, who was sitting quietly, his green eyes flickering toward her every so often. He looked like he had a million thoughts racing through his head—none of them pleasant. She wondered briefly what had happened here before her arrival.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Ah, reckon it's time for proper introductions, yeah?" he said, glancing at Remus, who nodded in agreement.

"Right," Remus said, gesturing toward the group. "You'll know Harry Potter, of course. That's Hermione Granger there," he said, nodding toward the brunette with the wild curls. "Ron, Ginny, George, Fred, Arthur Weasley..." He paused, clearing his throat as he gestured toward the woman with the bright purple hair. "And Nym—er—Tonks."

Tonks rolled her eyes good-naturedly, grinning as she gave May a little wave. "Just Tonks," she said brightly. "Nice to meet you."

May's gaze swept over the lot of them before she quirked an eyebrow. "I don't suppose another ginger's about to pop out from behind the curtains?" she asked, her voice laced with dry sarcasm.

"Three more," Tonks whispered conspiratorially, leaning toward her with a cheeky grin.

May's eyebrows shot up. "Blimey," she muttered under her breath.

A plate of steaming food appeared in front of her just then, and she glanced up to see Molly beaming warmly down at her. "Here you are, dear," Molly said, brushing a stray hair out of her face before returning to her seat.

"Thanks," May murmured, offering her a polite smile. She picked up her fork, absentmindedly poking at the food on her plate as her mind drifted. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but her focus kept drifting back to Harry. He was quiet—too quiet—and there was a storm brewing behind his eyes. Whatever had happened here before she walked in, it wasn't over.

She glanced down at her plate and took a bite, trying to shake the feeling that she'd just stepped into the eye of a very turbulent storm.

★

authors note: this is a little short (to me at least) but i'll definitely add more in the chapters. the first few chapters will be during the summer and in the 12 grimmauld place so sort of bare with me. it's to like build the relationships / friendships and other than that, i hope you enjoy!