MINOR EDITS IN PROGRESS - The Forgotten Heir | Sirius Black (Marauders Era)

Chapter 15: The Weight of Snow and Silence

The soft crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound that accompanied Lamia as she wandered the grounds of Hogwarts on Christmas Day. The castle, usually filled with the noise and laughter of students, was eerily quiet. Inside, the remaining students and teachers were gathered for a formal meal, the Great Hall resplendent with holiday decorations and the warmth of camaraderie. But for Lamia, the holiday held no special meaning, no warmth to be found in the traditions others cherished.

Christmas had never been a celebration in her life. The orphanage where she had spent her early years had barely acknowledged the day, let alone marked it with any sort of festivity. It was just another day, another reminder of the things she lacked. Even now, as she walked alone through the snow-covered grounds, that old feeling of not belonging gnawed at her, a familiar ache that had never truly left.

The world around her was a study in contrasts: the pristine white of the snow against the dark, ancient stones of the castle; the warmth of the Great Hall's hearths compared to the biting cold that nipped at her cheeks. Hogwarts had been her home for so long, the only place that had ever felt like a refuge, but even here, on this day, she felt like an outsider looking in.

Lamia's feet carried her to the edge of the Black Lake, now frozen over and gleaming under the pale winter sun. She stopped at the water's edge, her breath visible in the cold air as she gazed out over the expanse of ice. The lake was a vast, silent mirror, reflecting the gray sky above, and for a moment, she found herself mesmerized by its stillness.

What would it be like, she wondered, to be under that ice? To let the cold envelop her, to surrender to the quiet, unfeeling depths below? It was a thought that startled her with its intensity, but she didn't shy away from it. Instead, she let it linger, let it seep into the corners of her mind like the chill that had settled into her bones.

Her dark, curly hair fell forward over her black cloak, the ends dusted with snowflakes that had fallen during her walk. Her green, stony eyes pierced the ice in front of her, as if searching for answers in its unyielding surface. But the ice, like so much of her life, offered nothing in return—just an endless expanse of cold and silence.

When the ice could no longer hold her interest, she glanced back toward the castle. Hogwarts had been her home for so long, but the realization that it would no longer be her refuge in a year and a half struck her with a sharp pang of fear. What would she do then, when the safety of these walls was no longer hers? How was she meant to survive on her own, out in a world that felt so alien, so unforgiving?

Lamia's thoughts drifted to the world beyond Hogwarts, to the turmoil and uncertainty that loomed outside the castle's protective wards. She thought about the darkness that was spreading, the war that was brewing, and her place in it all. What role was she meant to play when she didn't even know who she was? She knew nothing of her blood status, nothing of her parents other than the fact that they had burdened her with a heritage she was only beginning to understand—a heritage that felt more like a curse than a gift.

What if—the thought came unbidden, a whisper in the back of her mind. What if her life had been different? What if she had been born to two loving parents who lived in a small cottage in a quiet village? She imagined them waiting for her at King's Cross, arms open wide, ready to welcome her home. Christmas would be just the three of them, happy in their small cottage, the warmth of love and family filling every corner.

The image was fleeting, a moment of weakness and hope that she quickly dismissed. It wasn't her reality, and it never would be. Lamia had long since learned that indulging in fantasies of what might have been was a dangerous distraction. She had to focus on what was real, on the challenges that lay ahead, not on dreams that could never come true.