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AFTER DUMBLEDORE FINISHED, none of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Este could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone forever. Sirius seemed a million miles away already, even if a part of Este still believed that if she had only pulled back that veil, she would have found Sirius looking back at her, greeting her, perhaps, with her laugh like a bark. . . .And that morning, the Daily Prophet arrived.

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS

In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-MustNot-Be Named has returned to this country and is active once more. "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord — well, you know who I mean — is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord — Thingy. "We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month." The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more." Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that HeWho-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. Albus Dumbledore, the newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the Boy Who Lived —

"There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow," said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at Harry. They were in the hospital wing. Harry was sitting on the end of Ron's bed and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet.

Ginny, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione's bed; Neville, whose nose had likewise been returned to its normal size and shape, was in a chair between the two beds; Este sat beside Neville; and Luna, who had dropped in to visit clutching the latest edition of The Quibbler, was reading the magazine upside down and apparently not taking in a word Hermione was saying.

"He's 'The Boy Who Lived' again now, though, isn't he?" said Ron darkly. "Not such a show-off maniac anymore, eh?"

He helped himself to a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the immense pile on his bedside cabinet, threw a few to Harry, Ginny, Este, and Neville, and ripped off the wrapper of his own with his teeth. There were still deep welts on his forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction, there seemed to be some improvement.

"Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry," said Hermione, now scanning down the article. " 'A lone voice of truth . . . perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story . . . forced to bear ridicule and slander . . .'" said Hermione, frowning.

"I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering, though. . . ." Este remarked as Hermione winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs.

The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Madam Pomfrey's words, "quite enough damage to be going on with." Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day and although she was improving greatly, was already bored with the hospital wing.

" 'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine . . .' Well," said Hermione, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, "it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago. . . ."

"Daddy sold it to them," said Luna vaguely, turning a page of The Quibbler. "He got a very good price for it too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer and see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Hermione seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, "That sounds lovely." Este caught Harry's eye and looked away quickly, grinning. "So anyway," said Hermione, sitting up a little straighter and wincing again, "what's going on in school?"

"Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp," said Ginny. "He did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off —"

"Why?" said Hermione, looking startled.

"Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic," said Ginny, shrugging.

"I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George," said Ron through a mouthful of chocolate. "They sent me all these, you know," he told Harry, pointing at the small mountain of Frogs beside him. "Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?"

Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked, "So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?"

"Yes," said Neville, "everything's settled right back down again."

"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.

"Not at all," said Ginny. "He's really, really miserable, actually. . . ." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts. . . ."

All seven of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the forest to rescue her from the centaurs. How he had done it — how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him — nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling.

Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were bits of twig and leaf in it, but otherwise, she seemed to be quite unscathed. "Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock," whispered Hermione.

"Sulking, more like," said Ginny

"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Este, and with her tongue, she made soft clip-clopping noises.

Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.

"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door. "No . . . no . . ." said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows, "no, I must have been dreaming. . . ."

Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter in the bedclothes. "Speaking of centaurs," said Hermione, when she had recovered a little, "who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?"

"He's got to," said Harry, "the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?"

"It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach," said Ginny.

"Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good," said Ron, now munching on his fourteenth Frog. "Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better. . . ."

"How can you say that?" Hermione demanded. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?" Este and Harry looked at one another. He had not told Ron, Hermione, or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Este had told them it had smashed while she was pulling Neville up the steps in the Death Room, and Harry had not yet corrected this impression.

"It is a pity it broke," said Hermione quietly, shaking her head.

"Yeah, it is," said Ron. "Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either — where are you two going?" he added, looking both surprised and disappointed as Harry and Este stood up.

"Er — Hagrid's," said Harry. "You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are. . . ."

"I'm going to see my friends," Este informed them.

"Oh all right then," said Ron grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. "Wish we could come . . ."

"Say hello to him for us!" called Hermione, as Este and Harry proceeded down the ward. "And ask him what's happening about . . . about his little friend!"

Harry gave a wave of his hand to show he had heard and understood as he left the dormitory.

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out on the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of the last few days of term unhampered by studying or homework. They walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as they went. She could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid. She was finding it hard at the moment to decide whether she wanted to be with people or not. Whenever she was in the company she wanted to get away, and whenever she was alone she wanted company.

Este and Harry had just descended the last marble step into the entrance hall when Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Este knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Este and Harry stopped dead; so did Draco and the others. For a few moments, the only sounds were the shouts, laughter, and splashes drifting into the hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Draco glanced around. Este knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Este and Harry and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Potter." He turned to look at Este, something else swirled in his grey eyes──the one he inherited from the Black Family──It was a look of complete and utter betrayal.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Funny," he said, "you'd think I'd have stopped walking around. . . ."

Este tapped Harry's arm, to stop him as she made her way down the steps, "Draco──"

Draco looked angrier than Este had ever seen him. She felt a kind of detached nervousness at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage. "You're going to pay," said Draco in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father. . . ."

Este's eyes flashed murderously, "And how about we talk about what Narcissa did to my father?"

Draco recoiled, "Estele──"

"Your father may be rotting in a cell, but mine's gone."

Harry who didn't hear the cousin's silent exchange, spoke, "I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up act compared to you three — what's the matter?" Harry said for Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. "He's your dad's mate, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?"

"You think you're such a big man, Potter," said Draco, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison —"

"I thought I just had," said Harry.

"The dementors have left Azkaban," said Draco quietly. "Dad and the others'll be out in no time. . . ."

"Yeah, I expect they will," said Harry. "Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now —"

Draco's hand flew toward his wand, but Harry was too quick for him. He had drawn his own wand before Draco's fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes. "Potter!" The voice rang across the entrance hall; Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office, and at the sight of him Este felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything she felt toward anyone. . . . Whatever Dumbledore said, she would never forgive Snape . . . never . . . "What are you doing, Potter?" said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the five of them.

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir," said Harry fiercely. Snape stared at him.

"Put that wand away at once," he said curtly. "Ten points from Gryff —" Snape looked toward the giant hourglasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile. "Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to —"

"Add some more?" Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle. She was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.

"Professor McGonagall!" said Snape, striding forward. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!"

"Yes, Professor Snape," said Professor McGonagall, shrugging off her traveling cloak, "I'm quite as good as new. You two — Crabbe — Goyle —" She beckoned them forward imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward. "Here," said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, "take these up to my office for me." They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase. "Right then," said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall, "well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?"

"What?" snapped Snape, though Este knew he had heard perfectly well. "Oh — well — I suppose . . ."

"So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom, and Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor's hourglass as she spoke. "Oh — and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose," she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw's glass. She glanced at Este, a new gleam in her eyes, "And of course, Fifty for Miss Black." the emeralds fell into Slytherin's cup.

"Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape — so there we are. . . ." A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless. "Well, Potter, Malfoy, Black I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this," Professor McGonagall continued briskly. Este did not need to tell twice. She headed straight for the front doors without another glance at Snape and Draco.

The hot sun hit her with a blast as he walked across the lawns toward Hagrid's cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the Sunday Prophet, and eating sweets looked up at her as she passed. Some called out to her or else waved. Este said nothing to any of them. She had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but she had so far avoided being questioned and preferred it that way. Este stopped as she ran into Atlas and Mattheo, she was a little confused as to why they all weren't together──Slytherins never really broke apart, snakes were solitary animals, but the Slytherins stuck together. "Hi," she said.

Atlas glanced at Mattheo, who nodded and hurriedly left Este and Atlas alone, "Hey, Es."

Este gulped, "Can... Can we talk?"

Atlas nodded, and together, they walked along the glimmering great lake, "I'm sorry about Sirius."

Este shrugged, "Oh... you know."

Atlas shook his head, "No I don't know──My father and mother died when I was young. I barely remember what they were like."

Este sighed, "I... I wish I got to know him better."

Atlas wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "So, how are you, little cousin?"

"Numb."

Atlas merely smiled, a serene smile that reminded her of Dumbledore, "That's how most people feel after losing a loved one."

Este shrugged, "I was really angry when we were in the Department of Mysteries. I even got into a fistfight with Bellatrix."

"Merlin, Es," Atlas snickered, "Not everyone gets into a fistfight with the Bellatrix Lestrange and lives to tell the tale."

"I even wanted to duel her," Este sighed, "But then Harry intervened and then Dumbledore eventually ended everything."

Atlas hummed, nodding as they continued to walk. Este twiddled with her fingers, just as she opened her mouth to apologize, Atlas stopped her, "Don't. You don't need to say it."

"Why?" Asked Este, slightly annoyed, "You don't know what I was about to say──"

"You were going to apologize, were you not?" Este's mouth fell open as Atlas continued, "Well don't bother because I forgave you hours ago." Este felt tears well in her eyes. She didn't understand it──Why did Atlas already forgive her after she said such horrible things? Why was he such a good person to overlook her harsh words? Tears began to spill and Este stopped walking, wiping her tears furiously. Atlas frowned, "Why are you crying, Es?"

"Because I'm mad!"

"Why are you mad?"

"Because you aren't mad at me, and now I seem like a petty selfish bitch," Este cried, "Why can't you just yell at me and tell me I was wrong for saying that?"

"Because I can't bring myself to yell at you," Atlas shrugged, "I promised Grandmother on her deathbed to never raise my voice at you and to protect you no matter what──even if you burn everything down."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your protector."

"You sound stupid now."

"I'm your keeper."

"Okay, you're pushing it."

Atlas chuckled and wiped Este's tears, together, they settled down on a patch of green grass and Este began to tell him everything that happened. And when she finished, they sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about Sirius. . . . The sun had fallen before Este realized that she was cold. Este and Atlas got up and returned to the castle, wiping her face on her sleeve as she went.

♰

Unhappy as Este Black felt at the moment, she would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days' time when she would be off in Italy this summer. Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed that she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed and chased her gleefully from the premises, whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk.

Many students ran out into the entrance hall to watch her running away down the path, and the Heads of Houses tried only halfheartedly to restrain their pupils. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term feast, but Este had not even started. "Just do it tomorrow!" said Daphne Greengrass, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory. "Come on, I'm starving. . . ."

"I won't be long. . . . Look, you go ahead. . . ." But when the dormitory door closed behind Este, she made no effort to speed up her packing. The very last thing she wanted to do was to attend the end-of-term feast. She was worried that Dumbledore was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all. . . . Este pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of her trunk to make way for folded ones s and, as she did so, noticed her golden locket, the one Sirius gifted her during Christmas.

Gingerly grabbing it, she traced her fingers over the locket. She had taken it off during the exams because she didn't want to be too distracted. And as she held the locket in her hands, a sudden wave of sadness washed over her──she held onto her locket, tears streaming down her face as she cried for the whole night.

♰

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express the next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid.

By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniforms as Harry, Ernie, and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze and by the time Este and Mattheo found them, it was difficult to reverse all the spells used.

Este and the rest went back to their compartment, where she bought a large pile of Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. Draco began reading the Daily Prophet again, Mattheo was doing a quiz in The Witch Weekly magazine, and Pansy was stroking her cat. Este and Atlas whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Draco read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters, and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning. . . .

"It hasn't really started yet," sighed Draco gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. "But it won't be long now. . . ."

Este had looked up and found, Cho Chang passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. Her and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho nodded and kept walking. Este looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of her pawns chased off its square by Atlas' knight.

"What's — er — going on with you and him anyway?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Who do you mean him?" Este scowled

"Oh, everyone knows I was talking about our little saint Potter," Atlas smirked

"Nothing," said Este truthfully, but her heart tugged, "He has a thing with Cho."

"I — er — heard she's going out with someone else now," drawled Mattheo.

"You're well out of it, Es," said Atlas forcefully. "I mean, Harry's quite good-looking and all that, but he's not exactly the safest option. Didn't we say it's never good to marry a martyr?"

Este shrugged, "Who's she with now anyway?" she asked Mattheo, but it was Draco who answered.

"Michael Corner," he said, he still did not look at her, and Este knew he was still furious at what she'd done.

"Michael?! but," said Este, "Wasn't Ginny Weasley going out with him?!"

"Not anymore," said Mattheo resolutely. "He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so Ginny ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead." He scratched his nose absently with the end of his quill, and began marking his answers.

Este snorted, "Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," she said, prodding his queen forward toward Atlas' quivering castle. "Good for her. I hope chooses someone — better — next time."

"Well, I've heard she's chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?" asked Atlas vaguely.

"What?" gasped Este, "How did you know that?!" Gosh, they were worst gossip than she ever was. After they fell into another lapse of silence, and when they finished their chess game, Este decided to go pay Harry a visit.

"And where are you going?" Atlas questioned, raising an eyebrow

"Uh to go chat with Harry." Draco scowled but did not object as Este turned to leave for Harry's compartment. When she found Harry, he was with Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Hermione. Este opened the compartment door and poked her head in, "Hiya," she greeted, smiling slightly as everyone in the compartment chorused their hellos. "I was just wondering if I could steal Harry for a moment."

Harry went maroon as Ginny Weasley smirked knowingly, "Yeah, go ahead, Este."

"Thanks, Ginny," Este gestured for Harry to join her, and as he got up to follow her, he glanced back and found everyone looking at him with anticipation, Ron even gave him a thumbs up. When they got to the corridor, the two of them stared at one another in awkwardness. Este cleared her throat, "I just wanted to say I'm really glad we got close this year."

Harry blushed, "Oh, yeah. Me too!"

Este grinned, "I'll be in Italy, so if you want to mail me or anything, just tell Hedwig to go to Le Tenuta Nera."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You have a house in Italy?"

Este nodded, slightly confused, "I have houses all over Europe, what's your point, Potter?"

Harry shook his head slightly amused, "I'll write as often as possible."

Este beamed, "Good! Because if you don't, I'm going to assume you're being starved, held hostage, and I will find you." They laughed, and in a split moment, Este made a reckless decision. She went on her toes and hurriedly pecked him on the cheek. Harry's eyes opened as he turned to look at her with widened eyes. Este said nothing as she turned her heel and ran for it──hiding in her compartment for the rest of the train ride

The train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross and when it finally puffed to a standstill, however, she prepared to drag her trunk from the train as usual. When the ticket inspector signaled to her and Atlas that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten and when she found Narcissa standing there waiting for her and Atlas, she turned her heel and immediately passed Narcissa.

"Estele, darling──"

"If you say one more word to my face I will never forgive you," Este said coldly. "Come Atlas."

Atlas gave her look, "Este."

She sighed, "You chat with her──I'll head back to Grimmauld Place first." She hurried to leave, not bothering to look at Narcissa and as she caught a cab to return to Grimmauld Place, she felt tears welling in her eyes──Narcissa had been the closest thing to a mother──for all these years she and taken Este and Atlas under her wing──Especially after Walburga's death. How could she do that to Este? And as the cab pulled up to the apartments, Este dragged her trunk and sighed, staring at the interlacing bit of Number 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place──Unsure if she even wanted to return.

But alas, Number 12 Grimmauld Place showed itself to her.

Este quickly headed into the house──Her anger now focused on a new target. "KREACHER! GET IN HERE YOU LITTLE TRAITOR!──" Kreacher came hurling down the stairs, sobbing and hitting himself by the mantel. "How could you do that to me?!" Este yelled, "You betrayed me! You──You are so lucky I won't be beheading you, you little shit."

"Mistress! Please forgive Kreacher! Kreacher only wants the best for his mistress──The filthy blood traitor was poisoning my Mistress' mind──"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Este roared, "You... You... I ought to send you away! I-I ought to send you to Hogwarts! I should just give you a shirt and never let you fucking return!"

Kreacher flung himself into a low bow, now sobbing even harder, "MISTRESS! Anything but sending Kreacher away! Please! Please behead poor Kreacher but do not give Kreacher clothes!"

Este felt her anger subside, she took a deep breath and calmed down, "You have a lot to make up to me, Kreacher."

"Kreacher will do anything for Mistress──Kreacher is devoted to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!"

Este sighed, "Just──Just go."

Kreacher got up, sniffling as he slowly made his way out of the hallway.

Este sighed, grabbing her hair and dropping her trunk.

"Was that you screaming, child?"

Este jumped and placed a hand over her chest, "Yes, Grandmother, it was me." She made her way over to Walburga's portrait.

"Hm... You've never screamed at Kreacher before. I see that little──"

"Don't, Grandmother. Please."

"That he, teased something out of you. Anger──a rage I never knew you were fully capable of."

Este scoffed, "You didn't think me capable of much."

"That is true──I raised you for marriage. Not for greatness. But I see that was my mistake──You were born to be great, Estele."

Este swallowed hard, "I... I know."

Grandmother looked at her, "You were my joy... I never thought you would be my pride."

Este sighed, sitting down, "Atlas was your Pride──I know."

"Yes, well. I know there are a few things he left behind perhaps you would like to gather them."

Este glanced at her grandmother and nodded before going up the stairs. Sirius had left his mark on the house──There was Buckbeak, in the master bedroom, records of ABBA and Fleetwood Mac replaced Walburga's Celestina Warbeck and her classics, but when Este arrived at her room──she stopped. On her bed was a letter.

TO MY PRETTIEST STAR.

Este recognized the handwriting immediately and she tore it open, unfolding the letter as her hands shook.

To My Most Precious Daughter,

I love you so so much, Estele. I don't think you'll ever understand. And, I know I haven't been the best father to you. I know. I swear I know. You're a good kid. Hell, I was a menace when I was your age. Smoking... Drinking... Partying... Pranking... When you're that age, it's easy to be king of the castle. And I've never acted like a dad to you. Maybe I just saw too much of myself in you. Too much of your mother as well.

And I'm sorry.

My father was the same. Orion Black. He never cared about me. I was his heir, but I was my mother's duty. It's a never-ending cycle, one I never wanted to have you caught into. One shitty dad to the next. Maybe it's in my genes. Maybe I wasn't cut out for it. But to be honest, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Fatherhood changed me for the better. Your mother got pregnant when she was really young, and well, she forced me to take the responsibility for my actions. And Merlin, when I first held you in my arms, I swear you were like the prettiest star.

You were my prettiest star.

I had you during the war, and when the war first started, I didn't give a shit about surviving the war. I wanted to fight for the better. Atone for my sins, maybe. But when you came along, I suddenly had something to lose. Your mother told me one night, "If I lose you... How will I raise our little star?" she had been drinking a lot──because well, she hadn't had a good drink in a while and then it fully hit me, I was a father to an innocent, precious child. Of course, Remus, Lily, and James helped out a lot──they were more built for the parent life I think.

My precious daughter.

I regret everything I did. From chasing after Peter Pettigrew that night to choosing Harry over you. Maybe I just didn't want to fuck with your life as much as I already did. I didn't know how to react. Sweet girl. I never knew how to express my feelings to you, I never knew how to truly cherish a child. I thought you deserved so much more than me, but I forgot that I was all you had. I was your only father. I should've been better for you. And I swear if I could steal a time-turner and reverse the changes, I would've never done any of this.

I don't think I could ever give you this letter personally, I'd be far too embarrassed. But I do hope you'll read it someday.

LOVE, DAD.

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THE END OF ACT ONE.

astrid hopes you have enjoyed reading.