A/N: Alright, this is my first author's note… Thanks to those who reviewed, I love you guys so darn much… Uhmmmm…If I don't post that often, I hope you'll bear with me… I'm only thirteen and I often go through writer's block. But I promise I'll try my best to finish the story… And to those who are asking if Sophie is Russian, she is part Russian. I purposely looked for a Russian surname. I'm not Russian, but I think that having a British or American character is too typical, 'cause most of the stories have British or American OCs… So… Alrightie then…On with the story

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Chapter 4 – Portraits

Harry couldn't sleep that night. He'd close his eyes for a few minutes, then open them, thinking that it's already morning. He decided to go to the living room. Perhaps after a few minutes, he'd feel sleepy. When he got down, he saw a figure seated on the couch. It was Sophie. He did not know what to do. He wanted to go back; perhaps she wanted to be on her own, and he would be disturbing her. For some odd reason, however, he couldn't go back. He simply stood, rooted to the ground.

"Come and sit down, Harry," he heard her say. How did she know it was me? he thought. She didn't turn to see who was there, and he doubted that she would recognize him, for it was very dark. Harry went to the couch and sat next to her, the couch's musty odor filling his nose.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked her.

"I knew you'd be down. That's why I am, too. I could tell that you couldn't sleep."

"How'd you know?"

Sophie didn't answer his question. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards yet again, and she turned to face him, giving him her wry smile. Harry did not know how to respond to this, so he looked at the empty fireplace. He thought of all those times when Sirius' head was in the fireplace. Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat.

"Listen," Sophie began quietly, "I know that you're sick of people telling you that it's not your fault, and that I have absolutely no right to tell you how to feel, but I believe that Sirius Black had a good heart, and it's best that he died saving someone. If I were to choose a way to go, I'd die saving the life of someone I love."

Harry did not know how to react with what she just told him. Half of him wanted to embrace her for those comforting words, yet half of him was highly irritated. She couldn't have known that. She did not know Sirius.

"You told me you wanted to know more about me. Would you want to know things about me? It might help you get your mind off of things," Sophie told him, her dark eyes gazing into his. Harry averted his eyes and nodded. It might help if he knew more about this mysterious girl. He closed his eyes, listening to her voice, which was high, but brought warmth. It was not squeaky like Hermione's, not shrieking like Cho's, and most certainly not artificial like Umbridge's.

"I'm fifteen, turning sixteen two days from now. My dad was an Auror from Russia. His dad was Russian and his mum was part Chinese, part Spanish and part British. My mum has lived in Britain her entire life, but she was only adopted by a British couple. She's got only very little British blood. She's mostly French and Italian. She's muggleborn, and it really shocked her parents, both biological and adoptive, when they discovered that she was a witch. She went to Hogwarts and was in Gryffindor. She was also an Auror and she met my dad in a convention in Germany." She stopped and cleared her throat. Harry closed his eyes and allowed her voice to drown the thoughts in his head.

"We lived in Berlin from the time you made Voldemort disappear," Harry was surprised to hear her say the name, "until I was about seven, then we lived in Venice until I was about nine. Mum had my little brother when I was three or four, we were still living in Berlin. We lived in Wales for a very short time, I turned ten when we left. We then lived in Muggle London. I remember being in the Leaky Cauldron when you were there for the first time. I went to Hogwarts, but I skipped fourth year, because I took up art in Germany. I spent the entire year living like a Muggle, which is why I had to get braces. I couldn't have horrible teeth one day, then perfectly straight ones the next." Harry noticed that she did have braces. What was rather interesting was that she didn't look nerdy wearing them.

"I love to draw. Which reminds me, I forgot something for you. It's in my room, come on, let's get it." She stood immediately and dragged Harry along with her. They went upstairs, then entered a small room.

It was messy, and painted a very dark shade of blue. Scattered on the floor were many sketchpads and there were more on her desks, accompanied by many different pencils and erasers. On a shelf were different coloring media; oil pastels of various colors, different kinds of paint – acrylic, oil, water-based, poster paints, etc. – and colored pencils of different sorts. While Sophie was rummaging for a picture, he looked at the one on her desk.

It was a portrait of two people kissing. What made it interesting was it was so full of life that it seemed to be moving. There was no color on it, except for brown on the girl's hair, but somehow, he felt that these people looked oddly familiar. "A little privacy, please!" yelled the boy in the picture, and Harry jumped. He didn't know that the portrait really was moving. Sophie laughed. It was a pleasant laugh. It wasn't like the giggles of the other girls in his school.

"I didn't know that they could move," said Harry, reddening a bit.

"It's alright, but don't look at the others, please. That was just a comfort drawing, so it's not that serious, but I'd prefer if others didn't see my sketches. Anyway, here's what I want to give you. I know it's not the same having him physically present, but I swear it'll make you feel better. The Order wanted it hung where Mrs. Black's portrait was before, but I decided to give it to you." She handed him a package that felt oddly like a picture frame. It was wrapped in brown paper. Harry tore off the paper and felt a emotions rush through him.

It was a portrait of Sirius. He was, at the moment, asleep, and Harry had the mad desire to wake him. The portrait looked so much like Sirius that he wondered if Sophie had really known him. "Sophia, who is this?" he heard and jumped.

On the wall was a portrait of two people in robes. One was a man with the same porcelain skin as Sophie. He had very light blonde hair that contrasted with his very Oriental eyes. He also had the same nose as Sophie. He was dressed in a navy blue robe. Next to him was a beautiful lady. She was olive-skinned and had the same wavy dark hair that Sophie did. She also had the same eyes and gaze as Sophie. She wore a silver robe. "Sophia, who is this?" asked the woman.

"Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, these are my mum and dad. They were killed by the Death Eaters that weren't caught in Paris a month ago."