Disclaimer: I own nothing within this story, except the plot and any
characters and scenarios not found in Ms. Rowling's wonderful books. I'm
not being payed a cent to write this story. Wish I was, 'cause then I
would have money . . . but I don't have money, therefore, it must be
concluded that I'm not getting payed. Onwards and upwards to . . . the
Story of Jessica Black.
The Story of Jessica Black
Introduction
It all started twenty-five years ago. Voldemort wasn't in power yet, and the whole wizarding world was celebrating the birthday of one of its greatest: Godric Gryffindor. A small muggle family by the name of Black knew nothing of the goings on just down the street, and of the trouble they would find themselves in during the years to come. All they knew was their two little boys were very different.
Sirius was dark-haired, tall, and moody. He spent most of his time locked up in his room, either reading, writing, or feeling sorry for himself. He rarely ever spoke to the rest of his family, particularly his brother. Every so often he would venture out of his room in the moonlight and take a walk around their small neighborhood. He would wish on every star, hoping one day something or someone would take him away from here. He wasn't miserable or mistreated, he was just unhappy and bored. He wanted excitement in his life.
Emory, his brother, was two years his junior, and was sandy-haired with bright blue eyes and a bubbling personality. He couldn't see why his brother was the way he was. Their parents, Lydia and Michael, were some of the kindest people you could ever meet, and tried desperately to understand their poor, trouble young Sirius. Emory wished that Sirius could just be happy.
The biggest difference between the two, was the things that happened around them. Once, when Sirius was upset with a family portrait that hadn't turned out very well, the portrait fell unexplainably off the mantle. And if he ever got a bad haircut, it would grow back instantly overnight. When he was five, a group of neighborhood bullies had started calling him Sirius the Stupid-head. Not that it was a very original or offending nickname, but the fact that they were calling him that made him very upset. One morning, they had all awoken to find their parents were calling them Stupid-heads. No one could explain it. Sirius's only friend on their street was one Arnold Longbottom, who was just as strange a little kid as Sirius. However, none of these phenomena ever happened to Emory. He was always a "normal" child, and had friends from all over the neighborhood.
At the time our story begins, Sirius was ten, going on eleven, and Emory had just turned nine. One odd evening, a tawny owl dropped a letter through their living room window. The letter was addressed to Sirius. Lydia picked it carefully up off the floor, examined it, then carried it up to Sirius's room.
She knocked gently on his door. "Sirius, darling, a letter has just arrived for you . . . via owl."
Sirius, intrigued, opened his door, grabbed the letter, thanked his mother, then proceeded to break the seal on the back.
"'Dear Mr. Black,'" he read aloud to himself, "'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!'" He finished the rest in a flourish, then ran down the stairs to show his parents.
Mr. and Mrs. Black were ecstatic. They were a bit confused, but deliriously happy just the same, because suddenly, his abnormalities were explained, and finally their son was happy. They discussed it for a moment, before unanimously agreeing that it would be all right for him to go. They hurriedly scribbled a confirmation note on a spare piece of parchment that had fallen from the envelope, attached it to the waiting owl's leg, then sent it off.
Lydia turned to Sirius. "Sirius," she said, "You're a wizard."
The rest of Sirius's story you know. However, two years later, when Emory turned eleven, he waited, unbeknownst to his parents, eagerly for his letter, assuming that if his brother was magical, then he must surely be. But Emory's letter never came.
Seven years later, Sirius was working as a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and Emory was planning for college. He had met a girl, Heather, and the two were planning marriage after college.
Four years of college came and went, and by the time Emory saw his brother again, he was no longer working for the Ministry of Magic. No. He had left his position there to help an aging wizard named Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix fight an evil, dark wizard by the name of Voldemort. Scary things started happening, Emory noticed, as he and Heather moved into a house together, married, and began to plan for children. First, his boss at the printing company he worked for disappeared, then his wife's friends, the Kitterlys, were found dead in Lincolnshire. The only cause of death determined, was fear. The police report read that they were frightened to death. Of course, no one believed it, so everyone made up a story of heart failure and domestic disturbance. But Heather knew better.
"Darling," she said one night to him, shortly after Amy and John Kitterly had passed away, "I have something very important to tell you."
He muttered some sort of reply from behind his paper. She took it from his hands. "Emory," she said seriously, "I'm a witch."
Emory stared at her. There was no way. His dear, sweet Heather, the same kind as his brother, who was gallivanting around under the pretense of saving the world? Impossible. Then, she withdrew an object from her closet that Emory recognized all too well.
"A wand," he breathed. She nodded, conjuring up a bouquet of flowers.
It took Emory a while, but he warmed up to the idea of having a witch for a wife. They even went, when invited, to a wedding that Sirius was best man for, and of a girl that Heather had known in school.
"Lily and James were the perfect couple," she told him at the reception, "You've never seen two people more in love."
Sirius was kind to Emory, whom he hadn't seen in a year, but looked a little worried as his two best friends said their vows. Emory couldn't understand why.
A month later, Heather excitedly informed Emory that she was pregnant. They planned, bought, and built for nine months, then had a beautiful baby girl.
"Jessica," he said upon her birth, "She looks like a Jessica."
Jessica Marie Black, born on July the twenty-ninth, was dark-haired with blue eyes and her mother's fair skin.
Not even eight months after she was born, Jessica and her mother and father went into hiding. James Potter, Sirius's friend, warned them that Voldemort was bent on killing every member of every family associated with the Order. But one day things went terribly, terribly wrong.
"Take Jessica and run, Em," Heather said to him, shoving her baby into his arms.
"I won't leave you."
"I'm a witch, and you're the one he's after. Please, just go."
Emory looked into her eyes. "I love you," he said, then kissed her as he grabbed Jessica and ran.
Heather faced Voldemort. She went down bravely, fighting until the end. But Jessica never knew her mother, and always remembered that.
Five months later Voldemort met his downfall at the Potters, done in by a little boy Jessica's age. No one ever knew Jessica's name. They all remembered Harry's. Jessica was just another little girl whose life was ruined by Voldemort. She and her father lived peacefully in America, until she was fifteen and received a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . .
The Story of Jessica Black
Introduction
It all started twenty-five years ago. Voldemort wasn't in power yet, and the whole wizarding world was celebrating the birthday of one of its greatest: Godric Gryffindor. A small muggle family by the name of Black knew nothing of the goings on just down the street, and of the trouble they would find themselves in during the years to come. All they knew was their two little boys were very different.
Sirius was dark-haired, tall, and moody. He spent most of his time locked up in his room, either reading, writing, or feeling sorry for himself. He rarely ever spoke to the rest of his family, particularly his brother. Every so often he would venture out of his room in the moonlight and take a walk around their small neighborhood. He would wish on every star, hoping one day something or someone would take him away from here. He wasn't miserable or mistreated, he was just unhappy and bored. He wanted excitement in his life.
Emory, his brother, was two years his junior, and was sandy-haired with bright blue eyes and a bubbling personality. He couldn't see why his brother was the way he was. Their parents, Lydia and Michael, were some of the kindest people you could ever meet, and tried desperately to understand their poor, trouble young Sirius. Emory wished that Sirius could just be happy.
The biggest difference between the two, was the things that happened around them. Once, when Sirius was upset with a family portrait that hadn't turned out very well, the portrait fell unexplainably off the mantle. And if he ever got a bad haircut, it would grow back instantly overnight. When he was five, a group of neighborhood bullies had started calling him Sirius the Stupid-head. Not that it was a very original or offending nickname, but the fact that they were calling him that made him very upset. One morning, they had all awoken to find their parents were calling them Stupid-heads. No one could explain it. Sirius's only friend on their street was one Arnold Longbottom, who was just as strange a little kid as Sirius. However, none of these phenomena ever happened to Emory. He was always a "normal" child, and had friends from all over the neighborhood.
At the time our story begins, Sirius was ten, going on eleven, and Emory had just turned nine. One odd evening, a tawny owl dropped a letter through their living room window. The letter was addressed to Sirius. Lydia picked it carefully up off the floor, examined it, then carried it up to Sirius's room.
She knocked gently on his door. "Sirius, darling, a letter has just arrived for you . . . via owl."
Sirius, intrigued, opened his door, grabbed the letter, thanked his mother, then proceeded to break the seal on the back.
"'Dear Mr. Black,'" he read aloud to himself, "'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!'" He finished the rest in a flourish, then ran down the stairs to show his parents.
Mr. and Mrs. Black were ecstatic. They were a bit confused, but deliriously happy just the same, because suddenly, his abnormalities were explained, and finally their son was happy. They discussed it for a moment, before unanimously agreeing that it would be all right for him to go. They hurriedly scribbled a confirmation note on a spare piece of parchment that had fallen from the envelope, attached it to the waiting owl's leg, then sent it off.
Lydia turned to Sirius. "Sirius," she said, "You're a wizard."
The rest of Sirius's story you know. However, two years later, when Emory turned eleven, he waited, unbeknownst to his parents, eagerly for his letter, assuming that if his brother was magical, then he must surely be. But Emory's letter never came.
Seven years later, Sirius was working as a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and Emory was planning for college. He had met a girl, Heather, and the two were planning marriage after college.
Four years of college came and went, and by the time Emory saw his brother again, he was no longer working for the Ministry of Magic. No. He had left his position there to help an aging wizard named Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix fight an evil, dark wizard by the name of Voldemort. Scary things started happening, Emory noticed, as he and Heather moved into a house together, married, and began to plan for children. First, his boss at the printing company he worked for disappeared, then his wife's friends, the Kitterlys, were found dead in Lincolnshire. The only cause of death determined, was fear. The police report read that they were frightened to death. Of course, no one believed it, so everyone made up a story of heart failure and domestic disturbance. But Heather knew better.
"Darling," she said one night to him, shortly after Amy and John Kitterly had passed away, "I have something very important to tell you."
He muttered some sort of reply from behind his paper. She took it from his hands. "Emory," she said seriously, "I'm a witch."
Emory stared at her. There was no way. His dear, sweet Heather, the same kind as his brother, who was gallivanting around under the pretense of saving the world? Impossible. Then, she withdrew an object from her closet that Emory recognized all too well.
"A wand," he breathed. She nodded, conjuring up a bouquet of flowers.
It took Emory a while, but he warmed up to the idea of having a witch for a wife. They even went, when invited, to a wedding that Sirius was best man for, and of a girl that Heather had known in school.
"Lily and James were the perfect couple," she told him at the reception, "You've never seen two people more in love."
Sirius was kind to Emory, whom he hadn't seen in a year, but looked a little worried as his two best friends said their vows. Emory couldn't understand why.
A month later, Heather excitedly informed Emory that she was pregnant. They planned, bought, and built for nine months, then had a beautiful baby girl.
"Jessica," he said upon her birth, "She looks like a Jessica."
Jessica Marie Black, born on July the twenty-ninth, was dark-haired with blue eyes and her mother's fair skin.
Not even eight months after she was born, Jessica and her mother and father went into hiding. James Potter, Sirius's friend, warned them that Voldemort was bent on killing every member of every family associated with the Order. But one day things went terribly, terribly wrong.
"Take Jessica and run, Em," Heather said to him, shoving her baby into his arms.
"I won't leave you."
"I'm a witch, and you're the one he's after. Please, just go."
Emory looked into her eyes. "I love you," he said, then kissed her as he grabbed Jessica and ran.
Heather faced Voldemort. She went down bravely, fighting until the end. But Jessica never knew her mother, and always remembered that.
Five months later Voldemort met his downfall at the Potters, done in by a little boy Jessica's age. No one ever knew Jessica's name. They all remembered Harry's. Jessica was just another little girl whose life was ruined by Voldemort. She and her father lived peacefully in America, until she was fifteen and received a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . .