It's only a short preview! Still in the developing stages!
It was a warm day, and Harry had just returned home at his job at the Ministry in time for dinner. The kids were still not back yet from their last term at Hogwarts, though he knew they would return any day now. He almost missed the ruckus that they caused, but he was looking forward to a quiet dinner tonight. Tonight was a night he was glad it was quiet, so he could be alone with his thoughts. Tonight was special—tonight was the anniversary of Sirius Black's death.
Harry had loved his parents, and every year he felt a pang when he walked by their grave in Godric's Hallow, were he and his young wife had moved, on the day of their death. But he had only really known them for a year of his life, despite their lasting effects on it, and he really couldn't remember it that well—not to blame him, it is quite hard to remember things when you're not even a year old. But Sirius Black, his godfather, Harry had known him for three years of his life, years he still remembered well, and despite the fact that Sirius had been, at the time, running from Dementors and the like (as he had been wrongly accused of killing several people) Harry had always thought of him as an important mentor in his life. So tonight, on the anniversary of his death, Harry often was overwhelmed with thoughts of how many things he wished Sirius had been alive for—his wedding, the birth of his children, the first time he had ever sent a child off to Hogwarts. So he liked it quiet.
"Ginny? I'm home," he called as he entered the small house.
"Ah, yes! I'll be right down for dinner, dear, I just have make sure the laundry's done," yelled Ginny, his wife, as she came down the stairs. "It's in the oven if you want to start setting the table, and—" she continued to yell some other inane things, mostly about potholders and flying charms, and what her mother had written to her today, despite the fact that she was in the same room as Harry himself.
"Dear? Dear!" Harry interrupted, grasping his wife's shoulder. "I'm right here, no need to shout. I'll go set the table."
"Oh, right. Yes, thank you," Ginny said vaguely, flipping through some books and posts while simultaneously waving her wand at a pile of laundry that had flown down the stairs with her. Harry shook his head, smiling a bit. He often theorized that his wife's upbringing in a house several stories tall, used to house two parents, seven siblings, and one poltergeist had had residual effects on her. He often thought that she forgot their home in Godric's Hallow wasn't nearly as tall or as crowded as the Burrow was, and so acted as though they were there. It was cute, though sometimes it did hurt his ears.
Harry went into the kitchen with this thought putting a smile on his face and began to set the table for dinner, and a few minutes later, both he and his wife had sat to eat and tell each other about their day. After Ginny had retired from the Harpies, her stories had become all the more interesting, as now she received dirt on every Quidditch team in the world, along with the scandals of the office. Usually, Harry enjoyed listening to his wife talk about her day, if only to see how happy it made her, but tonight he just couldn't concentrate. The loss of Sirius was haunting him badly.
"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell you, you got a package in the post today," Ginny said as she got up to put the dishes in the sink. With a flick of her wand, the dishes began to clean themselves as Ginny moved to the pile of letters on the counter. Harry had a strong sense of the growing resemblance of his wife to her mother, though he couldn't say he disliked it. He loved Molly, who was one of the most kind-hearted and warm people he had ever met. He just lamented his poor ears.
"From a 'Zephyra Anne Boot (previously Cameron)'. Wasn't there a Boot in your year?" she said, holding out the letter and small square package to him.
"Yeah," Harry said, taking it, "He was a Ravenclaw, I think. I wonder if this girl's related?"
Ginny tapped her chin with her finger. "'Zephyra Anne Cameron'…Zephyra Cameron…I feel as though I know that name, but I can't for the life of me remember why!"
Harry was opening the letter when his wife cried out, making him jump about a foot. For the safety of his ears, he thought, he really should look into some muffling techniques.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Now I remember! She was in my year at Hogwarts! Got sorted into Slytherin, so I never put too much stock in her, but I remember her being nicer than the whole lot of the rest of them put together. And I was her partner once in my Charms class! Ah, now I remember what was so different about her—she went to a Muggle primary school!"
"Really?" asked Harry, surprised. Not many wizards went to school, and certainly not many Slytherins.
"Yes! Got made fun of for it her whole time, now I remember, but she'd stick up for her house members if she thought they'd got the wrong end of it! And, oh yes! She was a Bangcroft!"
"A who?"
"Oh, forty years and you still have so much to learn," Ginny said, smiling at him sweetly. "A Bangcroft. They're a wizarding family, and they ship brooms. Started developing a few, too, some years back. The girl who invented the Firebolt? A Bangcroft."
"Really?" Harry stared at the letter in astonishment. "Well, I wonder what this is about?" He carefully slid the letter out of its envelope, then began to quickly read. After only a few seconds, Harry sucked in a breath and stated, "I think I'll read this in the study."
His wife, who was already preoccupied with yelling at the dishes because, apparently, they hadn't cleaned themselves well enough, gave a dismissive 'alright' as Harry quickly made his exit.
When Harry arrived in his study, he quickly locked the door and turned on the light behind his favorite leather chair before taking a seat and reexamining the letter, his eyes drawn to the one phrase that had him, tonight of all nights, positively shaking with anticipation. 'Sirius Black'.
Dear Mr. Harry Potter,
Hello, Mr. Potter, my name is Zephyra Boot (nee Cameron). I was a year behind you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (I do remember being in a Charms class with one Ginny Weasley, so maybe she could tell you of me—and I was also good friends with Luna Lovegood, we visited the Thestrals together sometimes), but I am writing you at a request from my dear mother, now deceased.
My mother attended school with your parents, you see, and all their friends, including one Sirius Black. When she died, she gave me a journal from her time at Hogwarts and asked that it was sent to you, as she knows you are the last living person Sirius would ever consider family, and no one but family was allowed to see it. She said she hoped that it would bring closer to both Sirius and your parents.
I have enclosed the journal, which still has a small enchantment from my mother's days at Hogwarts (she was a particularly good enchantress) to keep people from reading it. You must write the password (enclosed) along with your name before you are allowed to read it. Fair warning, it is quite an absorbing story.
With best Wishes,
Zephrya Anne Boot,
Chief Broomcarver, amateur Wandmaker, C.E.O.
of Bangcroft's Brooms Shipping and Supply
Harry eagerly picked up the simple, brown, paper wrapped package and tore into it, barely noticing the small piece of paper that fluttered to the ground, which had written on it, Snicker-Snack! Harry assumed this was the password. With a flick of his wand, a fountain pen (which he found he preferred much more than quills, which needed to be constantly sharpened) and a bottle of ink flew towards him to rest on the arm of the chair. Uncapping the ink, he delicately dipped his pen in, then began scratching 'Snicker-Snack!' and below that, 'Harry Potter' in his signature chicken script. The words faded into the page, and new words appeared below them in a tight, neat, whippy script that reminded Harry of the letter (in handwriting), as well as the dairy of Tom Riddle (in the sudden appearance of words). He saw,
Hello Harry. My name is Amelia Selene Bangcroft. Let me tell you about one Sirius Black…
And with that, Harry was sucked into the world of Hogwarts, 1970, when his parents and his godfather, Sirius Black, attended school with one Amelia Selene Bangcroft.
Amelia spent her first year at Hogwarts doing well in all her classes, making her a crowd favorite among the teachers, and sticking up for her fellow first years and fellow Slytherins whenever someone decided they were easy targets. In no time, she was known throughout the school for having a nasty temper when it came to bullies, and most found that once someone crossed Amelia Bangcroft, they were sure to be paid back in full, often at the least convenient times. Amelia had a knack for that, and a knack for bewitching things to explode. Her nickname was soon Banging Bangcroft, and she lived up to it.
In her third year, Amelia again encountered Sirius Black, this time in her Care of Magical Creatures class. Black and his friends had decided to pick on poor Severus Snape, a thin, wastrel of a boy who had an unfortunately long nose and penchant for brewing potions, which left his hair continuously greasy. The boys, who, upon meeting each other, became instant friends, liked to call Severus names and cast floating spells on him and his things, lifting him up high in the air and laughing as he flailed about. Today, the boys, up to their usual antics, had thought it a good idea to float Severus' book for class just above his head before the class started. Usually, their regular objector to this (other than Severus himself, who gave several pleas of "C'mon guys!" and "Let it down, I need it for class!") was Lily Evans, who often just had to give James Potter a certain look before he bent to her will and general prettiness, but Lily had not chosen to take Care of Magical Creatures, so she was no where around. But Amelia was.
"Mimble Wimble," she said, pointing her wand at James, who had cast the spell on Snape's book. Potter immediately dropped the book and clutched at his face. Snape caught it from midair and held it triumphantly as he scurried behind Amelia.
"Really, Bangcroft?" called Remus Lupin, another member of the horrid gang. "A first-year spell?"
"It worked, didn't it?" Amelia shot back. "And I'm sure that was just a simple Floating Spell, am I right, Potter?" she spat. Potter gurgled in response—he was still tongue-tied. Amelia flicked her wand and muttered the countercurse.
"Next time, pick on someone with as many friends as you, Potter," she called. "See how well you do." She turned and ushered Snape away with her, asking if he was okay. But Potter, who didn't like being shown up, especially by a girl, pointed his wand at her and began to yell.
"EXPELLI—"
Quick as a flash, Amelia had turned around whipped out her wand again. "Homenum Revelio!" she cried, blocking Potter's curse before he had even finished yelling it. It was at that moment that their teacher chose to return to them.
"What is going on here?" Grubblyplank looked none too happy about the state of things.
"Professor, Potter and his friends where torturing Severus again," Amelia stated. "I merely stepped in to stop them, and they turned on me." Grubblyplank cast a glance from Amelia to the boys behind her.
"Is this true?" she asked critically.
"Professor, of course not!" said James flippantly, shrugging and coming forward. "We were just roughhousing, you know. Nothing serious." Grubblyplank continued eying Amelia and James before answering.
"And what say you, Mr. Snape?"
Snape started, looking as though for all the world he would rather be in a dragon's mouth at that exact moment, shrugged, and silently stared at his feet. Grubblyplank waited a moment more before returning to the task at hand.
"Right. Well, since it seems that Mr. Snape does not feel he's been bullied, and you have been the one casting spells, Ms. Bangcroft, I will have to give you detention." Amelia's mouth tightened and her arms crossed. As Grubblyplank walked away, she couldn't help turning to Snape and giving him a silent, searing stare, then turning back to class.
That was when Amelia's involvement in Sirius Black's life took a turn for the worst. It was Saturday that Grubblyplank assigned Amelia detention, making her clean the Grindylow tanks. Amelia did not particularly enjoy the Grindylows, so the task was doubly disgusting. And, apparently, Sirius Black couldn't keep himself out of trouble, and was also assigned the same, stomach-turning task. Amelia decided to studiously ignore Black, and formulate her retaliation plan at the same time. Valuable information, requiring observation, could be obtained. And Sirius Black, for all his odiousness, was quite good looking. Damn him.
So Amelia put on her headphones—a device which in the Muggle world would function perfectly, and which she had spelled to play whatever music she was in the mood for in the Wizarding world (Amelia was a particularly good enchantress, and had received exceptionally high marks in Charms and Transfiguration) and tried to ignore Sirius Black.
He made it difficult.
"You have headphones?" he asked, coming over to where she was working. "But there's no record player here. I've been dying to get my hands on something to listen to my tunes with!"
She ignored him. He tapped her on her shoulder.
"Hey. Hey! What're you even listening—" he pulled the headphones off and tried holding them to his ear. His face transformed into one of utter glee. "The Beatles? Alright! So you do have good taste!" The expression on his face shut down. "For a Slytherin."
That was it for Amelia. She snatched back the headphones and said, "For your information, these are my personal property, and I don't lend them out to bullies. Or hypocrites." She placed the headphones once more on her head, and proceeded to scrub the tank overly fiercely.
"What makes me a bully? Just cause I try to teach some nerd a lesson or two? And a hypocrite for that matter?"
Amelia sighed and gave up on her original hope of subliminally observing Black, and turned toward him full on.
"Exactly that attitude, Black," she snarled, pulling the headphones down around her neck. "People are people, not just nerds or dorks. You can't judge them by the way they look or what music they listen to. Look at you. If people judged you by your last name, you would be in Slytherin house, doing the same thing your good-for-nothing cousin does—making life horrid for the rest of us. But you're not, are you? So stop judging other people the same way." She was right up in his face now. His shock and surprise registered with her, and she sighed with annoyance. "You know what, screw this." She pulled out her wand, a larch wand, 10 inches, unicorn core, and tapped smartly on the tank. "Scourgify!"
"You'll get in trouble for that," Black said as Amelia gathered up her things. She shrugged.
"Report me, I dare you," she said, hoisting her bag on her shoulder. "I don't think you have the guts." With that, she sauntered out, head held high. That was when Black started to take a notice in her.
HEY, long time, no see everyone! so, this was the project I told you about in some of my other a/n for the journey-as at the top, this is still in its first, working stages, and nothing has been finalized yet, really. I'll be updating my deviantart account with scenes, character portraits, and other such nonsense, as well as (trying) to keep my journal up to date, so please keep and eye on that (it's at - just copy and paste the link) if you want to be in the (relative) loop. anyway, review with your thoughts!
REmember -