Since this note was prominently missed upon this story's original release back in 2017, this is an Alternate Universe. Liberties will be taken with canon as the story needs. I'm very much aware of when Walburga Black died. I'm glad to be back and rolling again, but please remember that this is a stress relief for me and occasionally grammar mistakes will happen. Cheers - QueenErynn
"Lumos" Her voice was hushed in earnest. A small orb of light emitted from the white ash 8-inch dragon heartstring, wand. She poured over a leather journal. Inscribed "To my Songbird, 1970".
Each page was brimming. Filled with beautifully penned poems, personal entries, and drawings. Her favorite was labeled "Padfoot". It was a young man with wild hair, a mischievous grin, yet kind eyes.
The thirteen-year-old girl adored each and every page silently until a loud CRACK pulled her from them. "Nox." She slammed herself back into the ancient mattress and clutched the book close to her heart.
"Kreacher knows you are awake Mistress Persephone." the house-elf leered. "Mistress Black ordered you to bed four hours ago! You ungrateful abomination of the Black name!"
She remained silent taking the verbal abuses which were better than her grandmother's punishments. Persephone only hoped the cretin would keep this to himself.
When dawn broke through the dusty moth-eaten curtains Persephone vaulted from her bed and readied herself for breakfast with her caretaker. The vanity mirror reflected weariness in the grayness of her eyes.
She brushed her honey locks up into a tight bun. It was the only way to manage the tangled mess, and the only way her grandmother ordained it to be worn. After shuffling on an itchy blouse and long skirt she joined her grandmother for breakfast.
Walburga Black laid propped up against a mass of feather pillows. Her silver locks in a tidy bun. An expression of disappointment on her face; as it always was. She may have been beautiful once, but decades of anger and spite had drained all of it away.
"Good morning, Grandmother." Persephone greeted quietly.
Walburga did not reply but merely reached a skeletal hand to her wand on the bedside table.
Persephone flinched and gripped her hands to her knees. Inwardly, she cursed the house-elf. When no pain came she looked up to see an envelope floating into her hand.
"You are only to withdraw enough for your school supplies. No extras. Return the key to Kreacher upon your return home. Which will be no later than 4 pm. Understood?"
"Y… Yes ma'am." She held out her hand for the vault key. It weighed heavily. She could stuff as much gold in her bag and run. A thought that had crossed her mind many times.
They ate Kreacher's oatmeal in silence.
Leaving 12 Grimmauld Place was her favorite thing. It didn't matter the destination or for how long. Any time- any venture she treasured.
Across the street was a curious sight. A shaggy black dog was contently watching her. It was curious as the muggles who lived in the area were very well to do. Persephone had taken to knowing their various pets, and their names.
Persephone smiled at the stray and continued on her way.
It was a decent walk to Charing Cross Road, home to the Leaky Cauldron, but the weather was pleasant. Persephone relished the fresh air. Anything was better than the inhalation of mothballs.
No one greeted the young student as she entered the pub, nor did she expect anyone to. A twang of jealousy reverberated through her as a trio of friends greeted each other after a long summer apart.
Her first stop was Gringotts. A rather irritated goblin escorted her to the family vault. A sea of golden galleons, trinkets, and jewelry. The thought of taking everything that she could crossed her mind again. Where would she go? What would happen when the money ran out?
Persephone took enough to meet her school needs and decidedly took a bit extra for a small treat. How would grandmother know any better? She hadn't gotten out of bed in nearly two years let alone leave Grimmauld Place.
Upon returning to the lobby Persephone was frozen. At the entrance was a tall thin witch. Her platinum hair was drawn up tightly in the latest fashion.
"Ah, Persephone dear." The witch greeted with a waxy smile, "Draco greet your cousin."
"Cousin," Draco said shortly. His irritation only matched by the impatient tap in his foot.
"Hello, Aunt Narcissa." She managed.
Narcissa Malfoy clasped a hollow embrace around her. The overwhelming smell of magnolias filled the space. "I'm sure you must be so frightened. I shall see if your grandmother will let you stay with us until things settle down."
"Frightened? Settled down?" Persephone said.
"Merlin's beard," Narcissa said slowly, "You don't know."
Draco scoffed.
Persephone glanced between them. "Don't know what?"
Mrs. Malfoy squeezed her shoulders tightly. "Dear girl, it's all over the papers. That madman… your father. He escaped from Azkaban." It was almost like the woman took delight in the tremor that rippled through Persephone's face.
Her apparent Aunt requested that she wait for them in the lobby. For safety. The moment they disappeared beyond view Persephone bolted into the alley. A Daily Prophet stand was stationed a block away.
The man plastered on the front page was nothing like the drawings in the journal. His expression was manic, and where kindness had been there was madness.
"SIRIUS BLACK AT LARGE!" the purveyor yelled, "FIRST ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN IN CENTURIES."
Persephone took off down the alley. Rejecting the photograph and yet the sting of tears plagued her eyes. It couldn't be unseen.
"AYE!" a voice yelled.
It was too late. She slammed right into a lanky planted body and landed on her backside. The fall reminded her of several bruises.
"I… I'm so sorry!" Persephone said in a panic. She shifted her long bangs to the side. It had been reckless to run in the alley as she did.
A tall redhead with a goofy grin held out his hand, "No worries, shouldn't have been standing in the middle. I was askin' for it really."
Her hand felt small against his.
He pulled her from the ground with little effort. His expression morphed seeing the tears rolling down. He wanted to ask if she was okay.
"I'm fine." She beat him to the punch while dusting off her skirt.
"Hey, I know you." He said wagging a finger, "You're that second year that was in our fourth year's transfiguration class." He pondered a moment. "Perifney right?"
"Persephone." She said firmly. "You're George Weasley." The Weasley twins always gave Professor McGonagall a hard time, but they never seemed to give her more than she could handle.
He chuckled, "Ah, close. I'm Fred."
Persephone wrinkled her nose. "No, you're not."
Before he could reply his twin called from further down the alley. "Hey, Georgie! They're waiting on us."
George's lips twisted into a grin, "It was nice to see you Seph, I suppose I'll be seeing you in transfiguration class." He took off towards Fred with a wave.
"Seph…" She repeated the shortening of her name with a small smile.
She successfully avoided the Malfoy's for the rest of the afternoon. Even if it meant oddly ducking behind counters, or hiding in the dressing room until they departed. It made her shopping longer when she got stuck in Madam Malkin's Robe Shop.
"I don't know why you keep looking for her mother." Draco's voice came from two rooms over, "She obviously doesn't want our assistance."
"Family is all we have in this life Draco." Narcissa staunchly replied.
"Why would we want a lousy Gryffindor traipsing around our home anyway?" the boy asked.
Persephone's heart slammed against each rib as it descended into her stomach. That little snitch. Were they going to tell grandmother? She had nearly three successful years of secrecy.
Walburga was leaning reliantly on her cane, "Slytherin House girl. I won't raise another Gryffindor miscreant."
But the sorting hat had other plans…
"Gryffindor!" it had yelled.
Eleven-year-old Persephone hadn't the words to deny it. Especially after it called it her parents House.
That night in the girl's dorm Persephone attempted to silence her cries into a pillow. It annoyed her roommates to no end. They reported her to the Head Girl who in turn presented her to a tall elderly witch.
"I know it's scary to be away from home-" Professor McGonagall started.
Persephone screamed that she wasn't afraid to be away from home. That is wasn't a home at all. The raw scream and the shaking of the room flustered the transfiguration teacher.
"Then dear girl what is it?"
After that night Persephone was put at ease. Professor McGonagall promised to provide her with Slytherin robes and apparel for when she returned home and would convince the head of Slytherin to write to her grandmother if she required further proof of Persephone's house placement.
All of that was for nothing now. They were going to ruin everything.
"Dear Draco," Narcissa nearly sighed, "Do you know how helpful that could be. Especially to your father?"
"Father says you just want a daugh-" he was stopped by a prompt smack, "Ow!"
She waited for the bell of the door before stepping out of the dressing room clad in red and gold.
Persephone Black began her approach to 12 Grimmauld Place arms full of supplies and rehearsed the subsequent argument with her grandmother. The Malfoys had made her late. They told her to wait because of her father. Persephone stopped. She wondered how long the tirade would be this time. How many colorful expletives would her grandmother use to describe her parents?
Her kitten heels hit the familiar cobbles of Grimmauld Place but before was an odd scene.
Two men stood outside the house. The first stood six feet tall robed in purple. It complimented his glistening dark skin. The other wore tattered-mended robes and had two distinct scars across his face. This man matched one of her mother's drawings to a T. Her godfather stood before her- Remus Lupin otherwise labeled as "Moony".
The wizard robed in purple approached her, "Miss Black…" His tone was gentle, "I am Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry of Magic." He started to bend down toward her level, "This may come as a bit of a shock but your grandmother has passed."