Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling.
Hey guys, this is my first fanfic and it's a preview for a story I might write. Thanks!
Prologue: Tracing Ashes
A fiery red phoenix tapped at her window while she was rearranging her closet. As she neared the darkened window, she noticed those dark black eyes that belonged to Fawkes. The already open window brought in a scent of lavender and warmth floated in. The school yeah ended a few days before and Jaune was already bored. She hadn't even completely slipped off the letter off it's leg, the bird pushed off her window frame and fluttered to her lamp. Its back tail left a trail of light in the air. She recognized Dumbledore's writing as soon as she unfolded the parchment. In his spidery writing it said that she was the owner of the Black Estate in a suburb of London and of Fawkes too. She was to arrive there as soon as possible. After she read the letter 20 times it turned to ash in her fingertips. Like sand through her fingers, it fell sifted to the floor. Jaune was left speechless.
Dumbledore had only talked to her a handful of times, and she would be taken back by his patience and intelligence. The witty comments and intense eyes would always make her speechless, motionless. Nothing else did make her feel like that. But now he's dead and that just shook her entire world.
8 months before, Jaune found out she was the sole heir to the Black bloodline. Her mother and Regulus Black had a fling in Barcelona. It was a drunken night of passion and regret. For Jaune's mother was traveling through Barcelona in hopes of becoming fluent in Spanish simply only knowing hola. They were both young and impulsive. That was how her mother left it. It was so simple, anyone could understand it. Jaune wanted to know more, but she never asked, her mother wouldn't tell her more.
Jaune only met Regulus once, when she was 11 at a boutique in Madrid. He was awkward and nervous. His eyes widened when he first saw her and was speechless. She looked exactly like him; dark sharp eyes, straight raven hair, and long luscious eye lashes. She had never forgotten that moment. He had looked at her so lovingly, longingly. Her mother pulled her away before he bend down to talk to her. And when Jaune managed to looked back he was still standing there, staring with a hurtful look in his eyes.
Dumbledore convinced her mother to tell Jaune. Jaune had known that William was never her father since she could remember. It made Jaune angry that her real father was dead, she could never talk to him, see him, meet him. Her mom just wanted to torture her or protect her. Yet she was glad, there would be no discomfort, fighting, hate.
As Jaune collapsed by the ashes, she knelt there. Her fingers traced the ashes, creating various shapes and pictures. She rubbed off the ashes and began to pack her belongings.