The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 10

A/N Planning to write and upload this chapter much earlier but I'm moving houses so everything was quite hectic. The next update will be a very short wait. Votes and comments are appreciated!!!

Hyacinth liked to think she had a perfect life. She had nice parents, better than the ones in those movies her mum takes her to watch. Her dad was her first hero. He would scoop her up into his arms and fly her around on his broom, her delighted laughter ringing through the grand halls of Godric's Hallow. She never had to ask twice for anything, whether it was sweets from Honeydukes, a tiny broom of her own, or bedtime stories of daring adventures, James always gave in with a grin and a wink.

Her mum was softer but no less devoted. She would press kisses to Hyacinth's forehead before bed, braid her hair with gentle hands, and teach her about the magic woven into everyday life. She had a firm hand when needed as James was prone to indulgence, after all but even when she scolded, there was love in every word.

The world revolved around her, and she knew it. She did not throw tantrums because she always got her way. The only thing she'd change about her life was that she'd have Remus home more often, he was too busy helping others. She admired that about him but she missed him these days.

Oh and she'd make her parents forget about Dahlia Potter and her death.

Hyacinth Potter did not, as a rule, like Halloween. She suspected, when she watched other children around her, that the day was supposed to be some sort of holiday. There seemed to be all sorts of fun activities and decorations and food of all kinds, but in the Potter household, it had always been a day of mourning.

When she was too young to understand, it only made her sad to see her parents and Sirius weeping. Before she was old enough to be taught about her sister, she watched mummy break down throughout the day, saw daddy hugging her and crying quietly to himself.

Sirius stayed all day on Halloween, sometimes through the night as well. He cried, too, and that had scared her most of all, because Sirius was always fun and happy and let her play with anything she wanted even if mummy would have said no. She still remembered wanting her parents to go back to normal on those nights, wishing they would explain the odd behaviour, or perhaps just play with her and read her stories, as they had always done.

When Hyacinth was older, Mum and Dad told her about Dahlia. Dahlia James Potter was her twin sister, they said, and Hyacinth doesn't remember her because she died as a baby. Murdered by an evil wizard (You-Know-Who)

They honoured Baby Dahlia's memory on that day instead. But to Hyacinth, a sister was an unknown, abstract thing. She envied her friends, who ate sweets and played fun games on Halloween while her parents insisted on dragging her to a creepy cemetary to stare at a stone that ought to mean something but never did. She wanted to carve up a pumpkin and eat candy, not spend all night listening to her crying parents and sitting in the cold graveyard.

She sensed the vague emptiness in their house, the room that her mum claimed was a guest room but no one ever slept in, the boxes forever untouched, the pictures eternally displayed on the mantle, never changing, never moving.

Hyacinth truly did she feel sorry for baby Dahlia, no one deserved to get murdered especially so early in your life. She wondered what her life would be like if Dahlia didn't die. She'd have to share her parents attention, maybe Dahlia would've more funny, more brilliant. When they went to hogwarts their parents would compare their grades. What if Dahlia was better?

On the other hand she fantasised about a sister. Someone could knew her so well they could read her mind. A best friend that shred the same womb. They could play together, braid each other hair's.