The return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holiday was marked by a new sense of normalcy. The castle, thoroughly swept and secured, felt safer than it had in months. The remaining Dementors at the gates were a grim reminder of the recent past, but within the walls, life had returned to its familiar, academic rhythm.
Ariana and Hermione returned, their bond stronger than ever. Hermione, now armed with the knowledge that she could pursue her academic passions without destroying herself, was more focused and less anxious. Ariana, while still feeling the subtle, lingering echoes of her magical depletion, was buoyed by the new, profound purpose of her research into the Maledictus curse.
They met up with Harry and Ron in the common room, who were full of stories from their boisterous Christmas at the Burrow. Harry, for the first time, looked truly rested and happy after a holiday, the warmth of the Weasley family having worked its own kind of healing magic on him.
"You'll never guess who came to visit," Harry said, his voice a low, excited buzz as he pulled Ariana and Hermione aside. "Sirius!"
"Sirius Black was at the Burrow?" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide.
"No, not there," Harry explained. "He met with me and Professor Lupin in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore arranged it. He… he looks better. Cleaner. He's been staying somewhere secret, getting his strength back." Harry's face was alight with a joy that was profound to see. "We talked for hours. About my dad, about their time at school. It was… amazing."
He then turned to Ariana, his expression turning serious and full of a deep gratitude. "He wanted to speak with you, too, Ari. Both of you," he corrected, glancing at Hermione. "He wants to thank you properly. Professor Lupin said they'll be in his office tomorrow evening, if you're willing." "Of course," Ariana said with a nod.
The following evening, they made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office. Remus greeted them at the door, his kind, weary face breaking into a warm smile. The man standing by the fireplace was transformed. Sirius Black's hair was cut and clean, his gaunt features had filled out slightly, and he was dressed in well-made, if slightly old-fashioned, robes. The haunted, restless energy in his eyes had been replaced by a fierce, joyful light. He was beginning to look like the handsome, laughing man from the photographs again.
"Hermione," he said, his voice a warm, rich baritone. He shook her hand firmly. "Thank you. Harry told me how you stood by him. That's real friendship."
Hermione blushed, pleased and flustered.
Then, he turned to Ariana. His expression became one of profound, humbled reverence. He didn't offer a handshake. He simply looked at her, his eyes full of a gratitude that was too deep for simple words.
"Miss Dumbledore," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I owe you more than my life. You gave me back my name. You gave me back my godson. There is no debt, no words, that could ever repay what you did."
"There is really no debt to repay, Mr. Black," Ariana replied calmly. "A gross injustice was identified, and the logical steps were taken to rectify it. That is all."
Sirius let out a short, barking laugh, a sound full of a rusty, rediscovered joy. "Spoken like a true Dumbledore. All logic and frighteningly brilliant. You remind me of Albus a lot, but with less… twinkle." He sobered, his expression becoming serious. "Harry trusts you. Completely. And for that, I trust you too. The Potters… they were my family. And now Harry is all I have left of them. But he considers you his family, too."
He reached into his pocket and produced a small, ornate, and very old-looking silver key. It was heavy, and it hummed with ancient, powerful protection magic.
"This," Sirius said, holding it out to her, "is a key to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It's the old Black family home in London. It's a dreadful place, full of dark memories, but it's safe, and it's mine. It is my official residence."
He pressed the key into her hand. "I know you have your own place, but this is different. This is a home. Harry will be staying there with me this summer, and for every summer after, if he'll have me." He looked at her, his eyes fierce with sincerity. "And I want you to have a key. To have a place where you can go anytime you want, for any reason, without needing an invitation. A place where you will always be safe and always be welcome. I've already had you keyed into the wards, alongside Harry and myself. The house will recognize you as family."
It was an incredible gesture. He was not just giving her a key; he was officially, magically, welcoming her into the new family he was trying to build around Harry. He was giving her a home.
Ariana looked at the heavy silver key in her palm, feeling the deep, protective magic thrumming within it. "Thank you, Sirius," she said, using his first name for the first time. "I… accept."
Later that evening, back in the common room, Ariana showed the key to Hermione. Her friend's reaction was immediate and predictable.
"He gave you a key? To his house?" Hermione said, her voice rising slightly. A familiar, pouty expression crossed her face. "But… but you have a home with my family! We have a spare room! Dad was even thinking of putting in a new bookshelf for you!"
The friendly rivalry with Daphne had been one thing, but this was different. This was Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, formally inducting Ariana into their inner circle in a way that felt exclusive. Hermione's possessiveness over her best friend flared up, mingled with a genuine hurt that Ariana might prefer a dusty, old wizarding house to her own warm, loving, Muggle one.
Ariana saw the complex emotions warring on her friend's face. She put the key away and turned to Hermione, her expression soft.
"Hermione," she said gently. "A key is a tool. A house is a building. Your home… your family… that is a sanctuary. They are not the same thing, and one does not replace the other."
She reached out and took Hermione's hand. "Sirius gave me a safe house. Your parents gave me a home. Do you understand the difference?"
Hermione looked at her, at the absolute sincerity in her eyes, and the pout slowly faded, replaced by a reluctant understanding. Ariana wasn't choosing Sirius over her. She was simply… accumulating resources, as she always did. Sanctuaries, alliances, homes.
"I suppose," Hermione mumbled, though she still looked a bit disgruntled. "Just… make sure you still come for the holidays."
"That is a fixed variable in all future equations," Ariana confirmed with a rare, reassuring smile.
The rest of the year loomed, with Dementors at the gates and the shadow of Voldemort's eventual return on the horizon. But now, their small alliance had a powerful new member, and Ariana, the girl who had started with nothing, now held the keys to two different worlds: a magical fortress filled with ancient secrets, and a quiet, suburban house filled with something even more powerful—the unconditional love of a family.