The Black Family Legacy

Perplexing Post and Personal History Lesson

“You don’t look much different, are you sure you’re 17?” Cedric asks from behind her, and Cygnus grins, embracing him.

“Here you are.” He says, handing her a stack of patches.

"Thanks, Ced."

She continued on through her breakfast, smiling and accepting the gifts handed to her.

"What's this?" A Bulgarian boy asks, and she looks up to see Viktor Krum.

"Oh, it's my birthday today..." she answers.

"How old are you?" He asks, arching an eyebrow.

"17..."

The boy harrumphs and settles in to breakfast.

Cygnus was eating hash when the post arrived. A beautiful barn owl dropped a plain envelope in front of her, and Cygnus rewarded it with a bite of sausage before letting it fly off. Another owl drifted down from the ceiling with a medium sized parcel, and Cygnus repeated the process.By the end of Breakfast she had received several owls and had a stack of gifts piled on the table in front of her. 

Draco greeted her with a kiss to the forehead, setting down a small box in the pile. “Goodmorning, Cygnus.” 

“Goodmorning Draco.” She answers, ruffling his hair.

--

Sitting on the end of her bed, Cygnus pulled the letter out of her pocket and slit it open. 

Cygnus, 

We wish you a very happy birthday. May your wand always point you in the direction of your dreams and may your feet be wise enough to know when to follow. 

From your Godparents

M+H

She froze. 

Godparents? She has Godparents? And they’re alive?

She practically tore open the parcel, nearly ripping the handsome leather cover off of a book. She started at the ornate Hogwarts crest on the cover, embossed with gold. She ran her fingers over it, and then opened the page. 

She’s here! A beautiful baby girl, Cygnus Black, gave Halloween of ‘77 a special meaning. 

Cygnus stares in awe at the pictures on the page. The man she knew to be her father standing with a pink blanket in his arms. A grinning McGonagall with an exhausted looking girl. 

Wait… 

Madam Pomfrey delivered 3 pounds 7 ounces of joy this evening. 

She recognised that handwriting, that was professor McGonnagal’s.

Cygnus slammed the book shut and raced for the Transfiguration classroom, where she knocks rapidly on the professor’s door. 

She nearly falls over when the woman opens the door, and Cygnus shoves the book forward. 

“You knew my father!’ She says. “And my mother!” 

Clearly the gryffindor had not been prepared for the onslaught, but she stepped aside and let the girl into her office, where she plopped into one of the chairs by the desk and practically slammed the book down. 

“Cygnus, Cygnus, slow down!” She chuckles, drawing her spectacles and perching them on her nose, “Oh, I see.” 

“Tell me everything. What were they like? Were they great parents? Did they want to get married? Who am I more like, my mother or father?”