AN: Okay, yeah, I know, a pre-Harry Potter-fic. I don't care. I prefer
them. And yes, as you all should know, I do not own Harry Potter. It's
British. I am not. ^-^;; But anyway – I ask for three reviews – I know it's
short, but I would like some kind of.. motivation to continue it. And
finish it. I always suck at finishing..
A cry echoed from the forest near Hogsmeade.
The fourteen-year-old Sirius looked up from his dinner plate at his home. His parents had gone on a vacation and were due back in only a few days, but that cry.. It seemed so familiar to him. When he peered out from his window, he saw the glittering emerald of the Dark Mark. And it was glittering over the relative location of the Wilkins' home. But he had heard the cry, hadn't he? That had to stand for something, right? He pushed open the door, then changing into the dog commonly called Padfoot. He'd only just mastered the transformation, but it was worth the risk. He was faster as a dog, especially through the rain.
He found her. He found her, and still doesn't know how. Maybe it was his ears.
A small child was huddled underneath a tree, crying. She had vivid red hair, even when it was wet. Her clothes were fine silks, reds to match her hair, but they were torn now, soiled. Her skin was pale, almost terribly so. She was so small, she looked almost seven or eight, but Sirius knew her to be eleven. Just turned that today. He padded up to her, whining softly to get her attention. She tearfully turned to him, placing her finger in her mouth. It was a nervous habit. "P-Padfoot.. Maman and Papa are gone.." with that, she wrapped her fingers in his thick fur. He pulled her towards The Three Broomsticks.
The rain, it just seemed to get heavier.
Once or twice, Sirius found himself nearly tripping or slipping. He didn't know how she made it behind him, but she was a graceful creature, if not terribly small. Before he fell into full sight of Hogsmeade, he ducked behind a tree, altering his shape to that of the young (and human) Sirius. The girl clung to her leg as soon as he was done. "S-sirius!" she cried, burying her face into his soaked jeans. "Shh.. it's okay Saemae. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore are at The Three Broomsticks. Let's go see them, okay?" Without waiting for any nod or shake of her head, Sirius scooped the young girl into his arms, carrying her to the pub.
The shattering of the glass. Rosmerta didn't know what to think of young Sirius.
He'd come in, wet and dripping over her newly cleaned floor. The nerve. But what was that in his arms? Madame Saemae Wilkins? So filthy as well? That couldn't mean.. But in her heart, Rosmerta knew it was true. Saemae's parents were dead. She knew then, what Sirius wanted in her pub. She nodded her head over to the two professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dumbledore's familiar twinkle in the eye returned for once in this dark time. It was a rarely seen event in these dark times, so Minerva immediately looked for the cause. It was a sopping wet Wilkins, head on fire. Oh, wait, that was her hair. Dumbledore cleared his throat gently, preparing to speak to the approaching Black.
"Looks like we have another one for our cause, doesn't it?"
A cry echoed from the forest near Hogsmeade.
The fourteen-year-old Sirius looked up from his dinner plate at his home. His parents had gone on a vacation and were due back in only a few days, but that cry.. It seemed so familiar to him. When he peered out from his window, he saw the glittering emerald of the Dark Mark. And it was glittering over the relative location of the Wilkins' home. But he had heard the cry, hadn't he? That had to stand for something, right? He pushed open the door, then changing into the dog commonly called Padfoot. He'd only just mastered the transformation, but it was worth the risk. He was faster as a dog, especially through the rain.
He found her. He found her, and still doesn't know how. Maybe it was his ears.
A small child was huddled underneath a tree, crying. She had vivid red hair, even when it was wet. Her clothes were fine silks, reds to match her hair, but they were torn now, soiled. Her skin was pale, almost terribly so. She was so small, she looked almost seven or eight, but Sirius knew her to be eleven. Just turned that today. He padded up to her, whining softly to get her attention. She tearfully turned to him, placing her finger in her mouth. It was a nervous habit. "P-Padfoot.. Maman and Papa are gone.." with that, she wrapped her fingers in his thick fur. He pulled her towards The Three Broomsticks.
The rain, it just seemed to get heavier.
Once or twice, Sirius found himself nearly tripping or slipping. He didn't know how she made it behind him, but she was a graceful creature, if not terribly small. Before he fell into full sight of Hogsmeade, he ducked behind a tree, altering his shape to that of the young (and human) Sirius. The girl clung to her leg as soon as he was done. "S-sirius!" she cried, burying her face into his soaked jeans. "Shh.. it's okay Saemae. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore are at The Three Broomsticks. Let's go see them, okay?" Without waiting for any nod or shake of her head, Sirius scooped the young girl into his arms, carrying her to the pub.
The shattering of the glass. Rosmerta didn't know what to think of young Sirius.
He'd come in, wet and dripping over her newly cleaned floor. The nerve. But what was that in his arms? Madame Saemae Wilkins? So filthy as well? That couldn't mean.. But in her heart, Rosmerta knew it was true. Saemae's parents were dead. She knew then, what Sirius wanted in her pub. She nodded her head over to the two professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dumbledore's familiar twinkle in the eye returned for once in this dark time. It was a rarely seen event in these dark times, so Minerva immediately looked for the cause. It was a sopping wet Wilkins, head on fire. Oh, wait, that was her hair. Dumbledore cleared his throat gently, preparing to speak to the approaching Black.
"Looks like we have another one for our cause, doesn't it?"
