Sirius Black's Daughter

Chapter Eight: The Firebolt

Song: Laughing on the Outside
Posted: November 17th, 2020
Edited: November 18th, 2020
Major editing: July 30th, 2021
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Harry didn't have a very clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more.
All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard.
Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr.Weasley, Cornelius Fudge...why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them? And what about his daughter? It must be someone who is at Hogwarts. Black couldn't have had a child that young for them to be already graduated from Hogwarts or any wizarding school.
Ron and Hermione watched Harry nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them. Natalia wasn't eating and looked awful. She told them that she was feeling sick with all the candy she had eaten; which was a lie because Jae ate all her candy.

When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits.
Harry, who didn't want Fred and George asking him whether he'd reached Hogsmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for his bedside cabinet.
He pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for — the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father.
He sat down on his bed, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until- He stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day.
There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions.
There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad.

And there...that must be him. Their best man...
Harry had never given him a thought before. There was a woman with beautiful blonde hair and dark, ocean blue eyes standing next to his mother. She seemed to be pregnant.
If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph.
Black's face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome and full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him?
Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable?
'But the Dementors don't affect him,' Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face.
He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close —
Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robe and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding him from view.
The dormitory door opened.
"Harry?" said Ron's voice uncertainly.
But Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep.
He heard Ron leave again, and rolled over on his back, his eyes wide open.

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"Harry, you — you look terrible."
Harry hadn't gotten to sleep until daybreak.
He looked awful indeed.
Harry had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables. Natalia was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is everyone?" said Harry.
"Gone! It's the first day of the holidays,
remember?" said Ron, watching Harry closely.
"It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute."
"Where's Natalia? Isn't she here?" said Harry as he
slumped into a chair next to the fire.
Snow was still falling outside the windows.
Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.
"She's still in bed. Hermione told me that she was with Dumbledore last night, for some sort of meeting," said Ron, eating another Peppermint Toad.
"You really don't look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face.
"I'm fine," said Harry, wondering what the meeting was about. Was that why she wasn't eating at dinner? Was she in trouble?