"Carrie, my dear," McGonagall began, "I have discussed things at length with Dumbledore, and we have come to a conclusion about your last name." She rifled around a few pieces of parchment, and stacked them back again. "We know who your father is, dear."

I was shocked. After sixteen years of not knowing, I could finally know what my true last name was?

"Who is he?"

"Well, therein lies the issue," she said, clearing her throat. "You may or may not be pleased with what I have to tell you."

I just stared for a moment. "I have to know," I said, finally. "He's my father, isn't he? You can't choose who your parents are, and you must accept them for what they have been."

McGonagall nodded. "A wise statement," she said. "I think you had better take a look at these first." She handed me an envelope.

Opening it slowly, I saw that, inside, there were photographs. Pulling them out, I saw a young man, probably no more than my age, smiling with his three friends. They were all wearing Gryffindor crests on their robes. "Is this my father," I asked.

"The one there in the middle," McGonagall said, pointing. "Next to the boy with the glasses." She gave a soft smile. "That is Sirius."

"Sirius," I said. A smile flung itself onto my face. "He's named after a constellation as well."

The professor smiled. "Yes. Probably where your mother got the idea for your name. Sirius Orion, and Phoenix Carina." She sighed. "Now, for the more pressing matter. Nobody can know that he is your father."

"But why?"

A handful of newspaper articles showed an aged version of the boy in the pictures, no longer smiling. He was dressed in a prison uniform, holding a number.

"Sirius Black? The murderer?" I looked at her in shock. "This cannot be true."

"It isn't true," she said, matter-of-fact look on her face. "Sirius Black is no murderer. The mousey looking boy in those photographs, Peter. He was the murderer. Well, the reason for the murder, anyway."

I sat and listened to a much shortened version of the story of Harry Potter and the night his parents died. My father had been their secret-keeper, but convinced them to change their secret over to Peter Pettigrew. When the Dark Lord pressed him for information, he cracked. Sirius confronted him publicly, and Peter faked his own death.

"That's horrible," I said. "So… Where is my father now?"

"The only person who knows for sure is Harry Potter himself," McGonagall said. "And he may not be so willing to share that information. You see, Sirius is his godfather, and the last decent family member that the boy has left. Sharing him, even with his own daughter, would be hard for him."

"But, that would make me like family as well," I said. "Wouldn't it?"

The teacher sighed. "Alas, Mr. Potter may not see it that way."

"It just isn't fair," I said, staring down at the pictures of my father. "I'll never know the man I've dreamed about all my life." I traced the profile of his face with my finger, sadly smiling at the image of the young man laughing.

"Perhaps, someday, you will meet him," McGonagall said. "But, for now, these pictures will be enough?"

"Barely," I said softly. "But enough for now." I pushed the photographs back into the envelope, and smiled at the teacher. "Thank you for giving these to me."

She smiled back at me. "Now, as for your dormitory," she changed the subject, "you will be in the upstairs dormitories, in room 8. Alicia will give you a key when you go in. I trust you'll have a pleasant night getting to know your roommates."

Leaving her office, I wandered my way back to Gryffindor Tower, thinking of my father. He wandered these halls, like I was. He had friends in this school, like I hoped I would make. I wondered what he was like. Was he as kind as his school pictures showed him to be, or was he as deranged as the Daily Prophet made him out to be? I was lost in my thoughts when the Weasley twins attacked.

"So, which dormitory will you be in," George asked.

"And what is this," Fred asked, grabbing the envelope from my hands.

I snatched it back from him before he could open it. "That's private," I said, shocked at my own voice. "I'm sorry, Fred. It's just… been a long day." I sighed. "I suppose I'm ready for bed."

"Well, we'll leave you to it then," Fred said, obviously a bit hurt at my yelling at him. "Goodnight."

"Night, Carrie." George trailed behind his brother into the boys dormitory hall.

I shook myself inwardly. I would tell them everything the next day, as way of apologizing for yelling. That way, I wouldn't be the only one with this heavy secret weighing on me all the time.

Walking into my new dormitory, Alicia greeted me on sight with the key McGonagall had promised.

"Lose this, and we'll kill you," she said. The smile on her face said otherwise. "Welcome to the dorm, Carrie." Alicia turned to the other girl in the room. "This is Carrie… I'm not sure what her last name is."

"Black," I said simply. "Carrie Black."

Alicia smiled. "Alright then. Carrie, this is Angelina Johnson. We're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together."

Angelina simply waved and went back to the homework she seemed so interested in.

"Alrighty then," Alicia said. "This'll be your bed, and I already got your uniform from the common room." She smiled brightly. "Didn't want somebody to steal part of it, now did we?"

I laughed. "I'd rather not be without part of my uniform on my first day of classes, you know."

Alicia grinned. "I suppose not." She then launched into a full-on description of everything that had happened in the past school year. Up to, and including the Yule Ball. "Oh, it was so amazing. You should've tasted the food we had."

"Actually, I kind of did," I said. "I'm not a transfer student or anything. This is actually my first year in wizarding classes." I smiled. "I worked in the kitchens."