Author's Note: This chapter is brand new. I'm going to reload ch.1-4 new edited versions very soon. hope ya like it, and dont forget to review. i'll return the favor!
Unlike Sophia, Vieara had no interest whatsoever in what her father had to say. She completely ignored the front and back of the notebook, only reading the troublemaking guide in the middle. Most of their first year at Hogwarts was rather uneventful for them, but many strange things happened to others in the school. Ginny seemed to change a lot toward the end of the year, but by then it was discovered that Lord Voldemort's memory had possessed her and a giant basilisk had tried to kill her. But she had been rescued heroically by Harry Potter, and the whole matter was eventually forgotten as the twins returned to Bulgaria that summer.
The first day of summer, the day they would leave Hogwarts, was warm and breezy. The windows of the dormitory had been left open overnight and warm winds were gently smoothing the girls' faces. Sophia yawned and with one swift kick threw the sheet off of herself. She propped herself up on her hands and looked around. Ginny was sleeping facing away from her, her red hair on fire from the rays of sun that were playing with it. Thalia's bed curtains were shut, as always, even in the warm weather. Vieara was lying in bed reading Troublemakers Throughout the Ages, munching on a chocolate frog.
Sophia pulled her hair up messily and mouthed to Vieara. "Gimme a frog!" Vieara teasingly pretended not to understand for a moment, them threw over the sweet. Sophia pulled out the black notebook, and busily began writing to her father while Vieara returned to her book.
Sirius? She wrote.
Mm Hmm?
It's the last day of our first year here. I feel so lonely. I don't want to go back to Bulgaria. Vieara will be having her friend Angel over, Ginny is going back to her home, Thalia is going to Ireland, and I'm afraid mum will be sad just like before we left. I'm afraid everything I say will upset her. And Vieara and I disagree on a really important thing, so I can't talk to her about it . . .
She failed to mention that the subject of the disagreement was him, but as her writing disappeared, a lone tear slid down her face, and dropped onto the paper. Curiously it did not make it wet, but rather seemed to be absorbed just like the ink. There was a pause, then her father's handwriting slowly began to appear.
Please don't cry, my Sophie, please. You know that I'll always be here for you, here in this notebook, forever. I know it isn't as good as a real father, in flesh and all, but I'm terribly sorry, I just can't change that. As for you mom, is she sad because of me? What do you need to talk to Vieara about? Tell me . . .
I can't. I can't talk to you, and I can't figure out why mum didn't tell us about you a long time ago. I miss you. Can you miss something you've never really had?
I suppose you can, because I miss you and Vieara and I've never even met you. Why didn't you mum tell you two about me?
I suppose its because of what you did. . .
What do you mean, what did I do?
You don't know? Don't you remember? The murders?
What murders?!
Oh, I can't tell you, but how can you not know?
I am only a memory, Sophie, the memory of Sirius Black at eighteen. I am locked here, in this notebook. I am not the Sirius Black of the present.
Sophia gasped. So she wasn't speaking to her father, in prison, she was speaking to his memory, locked into a notebook at the age of eighteen. Locked innocent, before the murders, before the betrayal. She could not ask him why, why he'd done it all.
"What?" Vieara had looked up at Sophia's gasp.
"Noth-thing." Sophia stuttered. Her sister returned to her reading
What has happened to me, Sophie?
I can't really, I can't tell you. I'm sorry.
But you know. Am I dead?
No.
Then Why did you grow up without me? Did I abandon you?
No.
Why Sophie? I need to know. Please . . .
You went to prison before I was born.
Prison? Whatever for? Was I framed? What did I do?
I'm s-sorry. I can't. I can't.
Sophia shut the notebook with a silent sob, licked her left index finger, which was half covered in chocolate, and announced in a shaky voice that she was going to take a shower. Vieara never looked up, and the others didn't stir. She let her tears loose in the shower, where they blended into the water and washed down the drain. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. Except she knew she just wanted to be normal, a normal girl with and mother who didn't burst into tears or rage at the first mention of their father. A girl whose father was not a mass murder in the scariest prison, a girl whose father hadn't betrayed his wife and best friends. And now, she couldn't even demand answers. Because the father she'd been talking to was a boy barely out of school, clueless to the terrible doom that lay before him.
And then there was Vieara who refused to talk about him at all, and when she did, she simply called him a bastard, a traitor bastard who didn't love them, and therefore deserved nothing in return. But Sophia disagreed. There was something missing somewhere. If their father had been a Death Eater, loyal to Lord Voldemort, then why didn't he turn Harry over to Voldemort without James and Lily being present. And if he was loyal, why didn't he wait, and turn them, his own daughters over as well? Didn't Voldemort want all three of them, not just Harry?
Sophia sighed, stopped the shower, toweled herself off and dressed in muggle clothes. She went back into the dormitory, where the rest of the girls had woken up, and fished in her trunk. When she found the bottle of nail polish, she went to the windowsill and painted her nails black. This was about as close as she got to feeling nostalgia for something she'd never had, something that should have belonged to her, but never did: her father, and with him, the name Black. She now had the name, but it didn't feel hers somehow, it felt like new shoes that were exactly what she wanted but hurt because they weren't broken in yet.
Vieara and Ginny were happily singing "Magical Broomsticks" by the Weird Sisters at the top of their lungs, and Thalia was sprinkling loose glitter into her hair and over her eyelashes. Sophia tried to join in the laughter but choked instead, and went down the Great Hall for breakfast. She was early of course, and Dumbledore was the only person in the room. Sophia was about to take a seat when she heard his voice call her. "Miss Black?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"Come sit with me for a moment." She obeyed, and made her way to the high table.
"Yes?" She asked , staring at her fingernails. He too looked at them. "Are you missing you father, I suspect?"
"Well, I know I shouldn't be, because he is you know, a criminal and all, but I can't help it. I love him. He's my father. Can I miss him if I've never known him? Why do I, when I know what he did?"
"Because you're human, Miss Black. And because he is your father. Some humans have the wonderful ability to forgive."
"But I shouldn't. Vieara hates him, mum hates him, I should too. I should hate him for killing. But I don't."
"You shouldn't hate him. Hate is a strong emotion, especially for a young girl to bear."
"There's just something that doesn't . . . fit."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if he was a supporter of Voldemort's . . . " She blinked and tried to correct herself. "I mean, You Know Who."
"Voldemort." Dumbledore said firmly.
"If he was his supporter, why didn't he wait until we were born, and take Harry, I'm sure his parents would have trusted Sirius, and give all three of us to Voldemort? Why would he expose himself so early on when he could have cause so much more harm? It doesn't make any sense."
"I'll admit, Miss Black, I've always wondered similar things. But I have no answers, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban with no trial. The only person who can answer is in no position to, I'm afraid."
"Are visitors allowed in Azkaban?"
"No. Not family members, anyway. Only certain Ministry Officials are allowed to visit. And few ever wish to. Azkaban is a rather unpleasant place, Miss Black."
"How so?"
"What keeps the prisoners locked and unable to escape are their own minds and fears rather than any bars. The prison is guarded by dementors, creatures who suck all happiness from people and leave them with the worst of their memories and emotions."
"So even if I was to see him, and try to talk to him, he wouldn't be the same?"
"That is correct. He'd have little in common with the man he once was."
"Does he know about us?"
"Yes. He was notified of your birth."
"What did he say?"
"I was not the one who notified him, but I heard that he uttered the words I want to see them."
"What was he like?"
"Mischievous. Big charmer. You have his cheekbones, Miss Black. And his intelligence."
Students had begun to fill the room, stomachs rumbling, and teachers were beginning to take their places around Dumbledore. Sophia rose from Professor McGonagall's chair. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
dont forget to be a helpful reader and review. even if its criticism, as long as it's constructive, i love it. and even flames are funnny sometimes.
Unlike Sophia, Vieara had no interest whatsoever in what her father had to say. She completely ignored the front and back of the notebook, only reading the troublemaking guide in the middle. Most of their first year at Hogwarts was rather uneventful for them, but many strange things happened to others in the school. Ginny seemed to change a lot toward the end of the year, but by then it was discovered that Lord Voldemort's memory had possessed her and a giant basilisk had tried to kill her. But she had been rescued heroically by Harry Potter, and the whole matter was eventually forgotten as the twins returned to Bulgaria that summer.
The first day of summer, the day they would leave Hogwarts, was warm and breezy. The windows of the dormitory had been left open overnight and warm winds were gently smoothing the girls' faces. Sophia yawned and with one swift kick threw the sheet off of herself. She propped herself up on her hands and looked around. Ginny was sleeping facing away from her, her red hair on fire from the rays of sun that were playing with it. Thalia's bed curtains were shut, as always, even in the warm weather. Vieara was lying in bed reading Troublemakers Throughout the Ages, munching on a chocolate frog.
Sophia pulled her hair up messily and mouthed to Vieara. "Gimme a frog!" Vieara teasingly pretended not to understand for a moment, them threw over the sweet. Sophia pulled out the black notebook, and busily began writing to her father while Vieara returned to her book.
Sirius? She wrote.
Mm Hmm?
It's the last day of our first year here. I feel so lonely. I don't want to go back to Bulgaria. Vieara will be having her friend Angel over, Ginny is going back to her home, Thalia is going to Ireland, and I'm afraid mum will be sad just like before we left. I'm afraid everything I say will upset her. And Vieara and I disagree on a really important thing, so I can't talk to her about it . . .
She failed to mention that the subject of the disagreement was him, but as her writing disappeared, a lone tear slid down her face, and dropped onto the paper. Curiously it did not make it wet, but rather seemed to be absorbed just like the ink. There was a pause, then her father's handwriting slowly began to appear.
Please don't cry, my Sophie, please. You know that I'll always be here for you, here in this notebook, forever. I know it isn't as good as a real father, in flesh and all, but I'm terribly sorry, I just can't change that. As for you mom, is she sad because of me? What do you need to talk to Vieara about? Tell me . . .
I can't. I can't talk to you, and I can't figure out why mum didn't tell us about you a long time ago. I miss you. Can you miss something you've never really had?
I suppose you can, because I miss you and Vieara and I've never even met you. Why didn't you mum tell you two about me?
I suppose its because of what you did. . .
What do you mean, what did I do?
You don't know? Don't you remember? The murders?
What murders?!
Oh, I can't tell you, but how can you not know?
I am only a memory, Sophie, the memory of Sirius Black at eighteen. I am locked here, in this notebook. I am not the Sirius Black of the present.
Sophia gasped. So she wasn't speaking to her father, in prison, she was speaking to his memory, locked into a notebook at the age of eighteen. Locked innocent, before the murders, before the betrayal. She could not ask him why, why he'd done it all.
"What?" Vieara had looked up at Sophia's gasp.
"Noth-thing." Sophia stuttered. Her sister returned to her reading
What has happened to me, Sophie?
I can't really, I can't tell you. I'm sorry.
But you know. Am I dead?
No.
Then Why did you grow up without me? Did I abandon you?
No.
Why Sophie? I need to know. Please . . .
You went to prison before I was born.
Prison? Whatever for? Was I framed? What did I do?
I'm s-sorry. I can't. I can't.
Sophia shut the notebook with a silent sob, licked her left index finger, which was half covered in chocolate, and announced in a shaky voice that she was going to take a shower. Vieara never looked up, and the others didn't stir. She let her tears loose in the shower, where they blended into the water and washed down the drain. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. Except she knew she just wanted to be normal, a normal girl with and mother who didn't burst into tears or rage at the first mention of their father. A girl whose father was not a mass murder in the scariest prison, a girl whose father hadn't betrayed his wife and best friends. And now, she couldn't even demand answers. Because the father she'd been talking to was a boy barely out of school, clueless to the terrible doom that lay before him.
And then there was Vieara who refused to talk about him at all, and when she did, she simply called him a bastard, a traitor bastard who didn't love them, and therefore deserved nothing in return. But Sophia disagreed. There was something missing somewhere. If their father had been a Death Eater, loyal to Lord Voldemort, then why didn't he turn Harry over to Voldemort without James and Lily being present. And if he was loyal, why didn't he wait, and turn them, his own daughters over as well? Didn't Voldemort want all three of them, not just Harry?
Sophia sighed, stopped the shower, toweled herself off and dressed in muggle clothes. She went back into the dormitory, where the rest of the girls had woken up, and fished in her trunk. When she found the bottle of nail polish, she went to the windowsill and painted her nails black. This was about as close as she got to feeling nostalgia for something she'd never had, something that should have belonged to her, but never did: her father, and with him, the name Black. She now had the name, but it didn't feel hers somehow, it felt like new shoes that were exactly what she wanted but hurt because they weren't broken in yet.
Vieara and Ginny were happily singing "Magical Broomsticks" by the Weird Sisters at the top of their lungs, and Thalia was sprinkling loose glitter into her hair and over her eyelashes. Sophia tried to join in the laughter but choked instead, and went down the Great Hall for breakfast. She was early of course, and Dumbledore was the only person in the room. Sophia was about to take a seat when she heard his voice call her. "Miss Black?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"Come sit with me for a moment." She obeyed, and made her way to the high table.
"Yes?" She asked , staring at her fingernails. He too looked at them. "Are you missing you father, I suspect?"
"Well, I know I shouldn't be, because he is you know, a criminal and all, but I can't help it. I love him. He's my father. Can I miss him if I've never known him? Why do I, when I know what he did?"
"Because you're human, Miss Black. And because he is your father. Some humans have the wonderful ability to forgive."
"But I shouldn't. Vieara hates him, mum hates him, I should too. I should hate him for killing. But I don't."
"You shouldn't hate him. Hate is a strong emotion, especially for a young girl to bear."
"There's just something that doesn't . . . fit."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if he was a supporter of Voldemort's . . . " She blinked and tried to correct herself. "I mean, You Know Who."
"Voldemort." Dumbledore said firmly.
"If he was his supporter, why didn't he wait until we were born, and take Harry, I'm sure his parents would have trusted Sirius, and give all three of us to Voldemort? Why would he expose himself so early on when he could have cause so much more harm? It doesn't make any sense."
"I'll admit, Miss Black, I've always wondered similar things. But I have no answers, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban with no trial. The only person who can answer is in no position to, I'm afraid."
"Are visitors allowed in Azkaban?"
"No. Not family members, anyway. Only certain Ministry Officials are allowed to visit. And few ever wish to. Azkaban is a rather unpleasant place, Miss Black."
"How so?"
"What keeps the prisoners locked and unable to escape are their own minds and fears rather than any bars. The prison is guarded by dementors, creatures who suck all happiness from people and leave them with the worst of their memories and emotions."
"So even if I was to see him, and try to talk to him, he wouldn't be the same?"
"That is correct. He'd have little in common with the man he once was."
"Does he know about us?"
"Yes. He was notified of your birth."
"What did he say?"
"I was not the one who notified him, but I heard that he uttered the words I want to see them."
"What was he like?"
"Mischievous. Big charmer. You have his cheekbones, Miss Black. And his intelligence."
Students had begun to fill the room, stomachs rumbling, and teachers were beginning to take their places around Dumbledore. Sophia rose from Professor McGonagall's chair. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
dont forget to be a helpful reader and review. even if its criticism, as long as it's constructive, i love it. and even flames are funnny sometimes.