Black Spirit • harry potter (AU)

o n e • diagon alley

I ripped the Daily prophet in half, throwing it in the kitchen fire and plopping down on the armchair in the basement. I could still see the headline about my father. "Azkaban escapee still missing"

That was probably the fifth article about my father I had seen in the last two weeks, and they all said the same bloody thing.

Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer that escaped from Azkaban prison is still at large. The ministry is doing everything they can to capture Black. Black killed 13 people with one spell.. blah blah blah.. muggle prime minister has been informed.. and so on.

Nowhere in the article did it mention me and my mum, not that we wanted to be mentioned. It just goes to show that the ministry and the prophet knew nothing. They probably had no idea he even had a wife and daughter.

My mum walked down the stairs to the basement kitchen, a tray of her delicious apple pasties in hand. She offered me one and I accepted, still looking glum but managing a smile and thanking her. Her eyes stopped on the burning newspaper, but she didn't say anything, she didn't need to.

It was only my second birthday when he was arrested, so I barely had memories of him, but my mother went to school with him, they were married for almost three years before her husband was arrested and imprisoned. She knew he was innocent at once, of course. She didn't talk about the day he was arrested much or the details of his arrest at all, but I could guess. She was his wife, if anyone would know whether he was guilty, it would be her.

After my father's arrest my mother had packed our bags and moved. She had sent an owl to some of her relatives in America and that's where we went. Away from anything that reminded my mother of my father. Away from awkward questions from the ministry. I supposed maybe my mum had discussed this with my dad, maybe they had agreed that if anything happened we would be safer in America, but my mum had never told me.

She had never lied to me about who my father was and where he was, but she hadn't given me any details about his incarceration. Telling me I was too young and she would tell me when I was older and could handle it.

That hadn't stopped me from asking her every time it came up, trying to figure out anything about it. I had often wondered when I would learn of the true meaning, but now that he had escaped and all I had to go on was the Daily Prophet, I sure hoped my mother would confide in me soon.

We had been back from the United States for about a month now, staying in my father's family home, number 12 Grimmauld Place, that had now been empty for over twelve years after my grandmother died, except for the house elf Kreacher.
On top of Kreacher being unlikable and rude at first, he hadn't been tidy either. Twelve years of living here alone and it seemed that the only thing he ever cleaned was the portrait of my grandmother and his mistress, Walburga Black. The frame of the painting was impeccable, the wood shining as if it was polished every day.
As for everything else, Kreacher seemed to not care at all. The kitchen was now clean because my mother refused to cook in such dirty surroundings, but when we got here in July the whole basement was covered in spider webs and an inch of dust. After a full day of cleaning, my mother was somewhat pleased and agreed to cook us a nice meal to celebrate being back in London. We had been cleaning ever since we arrived. The house looked fairly decent now that we had lived here for a little while and fixed it up a bit.
We had replaced almost all the wallpaper in the house, it used to be a dark green that was peeling off. We removed it during the first week. The walls were now painted a creamy while.
We had also fixed up the dark hard wood floors with the help of Kreacher, who had warmed up to us over time. We had realized that once we were friendly towards him, he grew to be quite nice and helpful to have around. Cooking delicious meals for us sometimes and assisting us in cleaning and disinfecting places in the house that had gotten infested with several bugs and creatures over the years.