𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

𝐈𝐈

"Did my father have a sister?"
Remus took a deep breath, and unlike Sirius, didn't hesitate much to reply. 
"H–He did."
"But—"
"—why didn't we tell you earlier, Harry?"
Harry nodded slowly, and nervously glanced at Hermione. 
"Your father didn't—wouldn't want us to."
"Why?" Harry breathed out, he couldn't contain his emotions any longer, how many more things–people were they all hiding? He was so desperate to see, any person, any person, alive, who belonged to his family.
Remus was shaking, and he somehow managed to steadily say, "Your aunt...she wasn't the best of people, Harry."
"Wha—"
"I understand that you would want to know more about her, but she's not who . . you think she was."
"Remu—"
"—moreover I don't think it'll help you in any way, either. . .She's dead, Harry, since about twenty years. . ."
Remus kept speaking, pausing for shaky breaths in between, but Harry had heard enough. 
Harry felt sudden anger pulsing through his veins, Lupin can never understand how he felt, how he feels, nobody can understand, how it feels, to have your parents killed by the darkest Lord of all time, additionally to have a connection to the same person, to be hated by the only family he has alive, and now, his friends . . .
Harry felt his mouth go dry, jaws clench, his entire body shaking, he could take it no more, "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" he cried, gathering the attention of the whole room.
As he stormed up the stairs to his and Ron's bedroom, he heard them talking to each other, Why is Harry losing his temper with everyone? Why is he acting so oddly?
Harry laid down on his bed, deep in thought, still shaking with the emotions flowing through him.
This year hadn't been the best.
He had witnessed the death of a schoolmate which gave him nightmares throughout the summer.
Umbridge was making life a living hell for all Hogwarts students. Harry was being targeted by the Daily Prophet and the Ministry of Magic as a liar and a nutter, and even many of Harry's friends became suspicious or resentful of him because of it. 
Voldemort was back; So the part of him which was in Harry was "acting up" with renewed vigor. And right now, he had lost his faith in the entire inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. How many more things were they hiding from him? Can he trust —
"Kreacher did not see young master.", a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Harry turned to see the speaker bowing and muttering insults he was forbidden to utter.
He was all so steamed up, and the last thing he wanted to see right now was a house elf, who was currently trying to cover a Black family silver plate behind it's back, and failing.
And that's when it clicked. He could ask the elf. Kreacher had the picture after all. Kreacher had turned to leave, when Harry called, "Kreacher, wait."
"— nastily ordering poor Kreacher around,  oh, what would my mistress say. . ."
Harry ignore the comment and asked, "We've been to your bedroom, and—"
Kreacher mumbles about traitorous scum wandering about, when Harry continued in a much higher voice, "and we saw a few pictures hung, and. . .I'd like to know who they are."
Kreacher gave a wheezy chuckle. "Kreacher wishes not to say..."
"Please tell me..." Harry pleaded, and he sensed that the elf seemed to enjoy his desperation. 
Kreacger gleefully danced around, and Harry changed his tone from pleading to warning, "Or I'll tell Sirius you're nicking stuff again."
Kreacher went stiff all of a sudden, and Harry suddenly felt like a kindergartener, threatening his classmate about complaining to the teacher.
"Kreacher... was forbidden not to speak a word, by Master Regulus and Good Potter." he quietly said, a tear rolling down his face.
Kreacher suddenly gasped, and hit his head of the door, repeatedly, "Bad Kreacher!"
Harry held him tightly, used to these actions thanks to Dobby, and asked triumphantly, "Potter, did you say?"
"Harry..?" Hermione's voice came from the door. Harry had turned, and Kreacher took this to his advantage and disappeared with a pop.
"I know you're in there. Will you please come out, I want to talk to you."
Without waiting for a reply, the girl opened the door, followed by Ron.
"What do you lot want from me?" Harry shouted, he had been so close, and. . .
"What did Remus say, Harry?"
Ron quickly muttered to Hermione, at teh sight of the fuming bespectacled boy, "He just needs his space, Herm—"
"—What made you lash out all of a sudden?" she asked, ignoring Ron.
She opened her mouth to ask something else, and Harry lost it.
"Why are you breathing, Harry?" Harry snapped, in a high pitched, which may or may not be similiar to a certain Muggleborn. "Why are you an idiot, Harry? What is wrong with you, Harry?" He stopped, fuming. "What's with all the questions, Hermione?"
Hermione looked hurt, and Ron was stifling a laugh, Harry then added, in a surprisingly calm voice, "I just need some time alone, please, don't get me wrong. I want to find out who she is and I will . . . by myself." 
"But we can help, you know—" said Ron, impatient, and Hermione nodding immediately. "I.." Harry started, but the look on their faces made him say, "GET ON WITH IT, THEN!"
The three fifteen year olds had a smile on their faces, for the Golden Trio, had got back on track.
Unbeknownst to them, that the ex–prisoner of Azkaban, had heard the complete exchange, along with his friend.