The Shadow
Eleonora
The Great Hall was alive with the usual chaos of a Hogwarts morning—spells flickering in the air, owls swooping down with letters, and the ceaseless chatter of students who didn’t know what it meant to be silent. Eleonora Rose sat at the very edge of the Slytherin table, where the light from the enchanted ceiling didn’t quite reach. Shadows curled around her like old companions, drawn to her presence as they always were.
She ignored them, just as she ignored the whispers that followed her wherever she went.
“Is it true she can disappear into thin air?”
“I heard she’s not even human.”
“She’s a cursed bloodline, isn’t she? That’s why no one speaks of her family.”
Eleonora did not react. If history had forgotten the name she was born with, she would not be the one to remind it.Silence was an art she had mastered long ago.
Then, of course, Sirius Black had to ruin it.
“You’re going to run out of dark corners to lurk in, Rose.”
His voice was unmistakable—smooth, cocky, and laced with the kind of reckless charm that made people fall in love with him far too easily. He was standing across from her, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. The Marauders were close behind, James Potter nudging him with an elbow while Remus Lupin sighed, already bracing for whatever Sirius was about to do.
Eleonora tilted her head slightly, regarding him with an expression as unreadable as the night sky. Even now, the storm outside thickened, the enchanted ceiling responding to something unseen.
She took in the details—the way his dark eyes burned with mischief but hid something deeper, something fractured. His black hair was unruly, always falling into his face, like he was a storm barely contained. There was a weight behind his smirk, a defiance that wasn’t just for show.
“And you’re going to run out of people to impress, Black.”
Sirius’s grin widened. “Doubt it. My list’s quite long.”
“You mistake tolerance for admiration.”
The words were smooth, but Sirius caught the slight gleam of amusement in her dark eyes. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, her words cut like a well-aimed curse.
James snickered. “I like her.”
“You would,” Eleonora murmured, sipping her tea as if she wasn’t being surrounded by Gryffindors like a pack of overly enthusiastic wolves. Her gaze flickered over Sirius again. There was something about him—an energy that crackled in the air, making him impossible to ignore. He carried himself like a prince without a crown, unshackled, yet always glancing over his shoulder like he was waiting for something to catch up to him.
Sirius studied her. She was always like this—untouchable, unreadable, moving through the world as if she weren’t truly part of it. She had an elegance to her that wasn’t learned, but instinctual, a kind of effortless grace that made her seem otherworldly. But it wasn’t just grace—it was something darker. Her presence felt like the pause before a storm, the edge of something ancient.
Even now, the storm outside thickened, the enchanted ceiling responding to something unseen. Remus frowned slightly but said nothing.
“You know,” Sirius said, leaning on the table, “I’ve been trying to figure you out for years.”
Eleonora finally set her cup down. “What a waste of time.”
Sirius smirked, but before he could fire back, the enchanted ceiling above them rumbled with thunder. A storm was forming outside, the sky darkening unnaturally fast.
Eleonora stiffened.
A flicker of something passed over her expression—gone before Sirius could place it. And then she stood, moving with the kind of fluid grace that made it look like she was gliding rather than walking. Sirius noticed the way the shadows seemed to stretch toward her, like they were reluctant to let her go.
“Stay out of my way, Black.”
She left the Great Hall before he could respond, the shadows curling in her wake like a living thing.
Sirius
“She’s hiding something.”
Sirius leaned back in his chair, feet kicked up onto the Gryffindor common room table. James was throwing a Snitch into the air absentmindedly, while Remus was pretending to read, though he was clearly listening to the conversation.
“You say that about everyone, mate,” James replied. “Remember when you were convinced Professor McGonagall was secretly a retired duelist?”
“She was suspicious,” Sirius shot back, before waving a hand. “But Eleonora’s different. There’s something about her.”
“Other than the fact that she looks like she was sculpted out of moonlight and bad decisions?” Remus muttered without looking up.
Sirius shot him a glare. “This isn’t about that.”
James caught the Snitch and leaned forward. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious.”
“Not funny.”
Sirius ignored him. “She’s… I don’t know. She’s always alone, but not in the usual way. It’s like she’s keeping herself apart from the world on purpose.”
Remus finally looked up. “Some people are just like that, Pads.”
But Sirius shook his head. “No. It’s more than that. She knows things, things she shouldn’t. She moves like she’s never been afraid of anything, but I’ve seen her flinch at shadows. It doesn’t make sense.”
James and Remus exchanged a look.
“You think she’s dangerous?” Remus asked finally.
Sirius thought about the way the shadows seemed to follow her, the way she disappeared so easily, like she was never fully there. How she never seemed surprised, as if she was always expecting something to go wrong.
James sighed. “What’s wrong, afraid she’ll vanish like all our perfect pureblood legacies?”
Sirius smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.”
He thought about the way she had stiffened when the storm rolled in. The way her eyes flickered—not in fear, but in recognition.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that I want to know why the shadows whisper her name.”
James groaned. “This is going to be another one of those ‘Sirius Black has a death wish’ things, isn’t it?”
Sirius just grinned. He had no idea what he was getting into. But whatever game Eleonora was playing—whatever secrets she was keeping—he was going to figure her out.
Even if it killed him.