Dancing In The Storm •Fred Weasley•

Chapter 45

•This story takes scenes from the Harry Potter series. I want to make it clear that I don't own those scenes. That's owned by
J.K. Rowling. Thank you•

~Scarlett~

"It's so boring here!" I whined, my head hanging off the side of the couch as Mum and Dad chuckled from the kitchen.

"You've only been here three days," Mum pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'm already bored," I groaned, blowing a piece of my hair out of my face.

"Then tell us more stories about your school year," Dad tried, poking his head around the corner to look at me. "And you may want to sit up before all the blood rushes to your head."

"I've already told you everything though," I sighed, reluctantly sitting up again.

"Tell us how you and Fred got together again," Mum called, cursing to herself as something in the kitchen broke.

"I dragged him into a broom cupboard."

"And?"

"And I threatened him."

"Definitely your daughter," Dad laughed, helping Mum with whatever it is that broke.

"I'm bored..."

"So you've said," Mum sighed. "Go wander around the house or something."

Huffing, I rolled off of the couch and lazily carried myself down the hall. Nothing new. I dragged myself up the stairs until I was on the top floor, where I suddenly had an idea.

Dad has allowed me to have his old room, but he's never let me into the room next to it.

I could feel the mischief inside of me spark up and a grin spread across my face as I approached the mysterious door.

Regulus Arcturus Black?

I've never heard that name before...

Shrugging, I pushed the door open. The room had clearly not been entered in years from the force I had to use to open it and the amount of dust that had gathered. The room was slightly smaller than my own, but it was more fancy than my Dad's laid back style. The Slytherin colors that decorated the room almost made me gag, and the Black family crest was even worse. Newspaper cuttings covered surfaces, all about Voldemort and his previous reign.

Some photographs lay on the nightstand and I immediately went for the one that looked like Dad. But the closer I looked at it the more evident the differences got. He had the same dark hair and grey eyes as Dad, but he was much smaller than the pictures I've seen of Dad and the green tie was a dead giveaway.

I didn't know if Dad had any siblings, but who else could this be?

I didn't want to sell myself out, but curiosity got the best of me and I found myself wandering back down the stairs with the photograph in hand.

"Hey, Dad!" I called, finding him sitting in the living room with Mum.

"What's up, Scar?"