The Final

Chapter Four

We had quickly retreated to Sirius' old home. Which was left to Harry. Along with the crabby house elf, Kreacher.

It's been a couple days since we have arrived, and I'm the first one to venture upstairs.

It's been well kept since I was last here. I see a pair of scissors and grab them. I go straight to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

Hermione is right, I need to cut my hair. I grab a handful and cut it off. I continue until it's just below my chin.

It's short and choppy. And straight. My hair is bipolar when I cut it.

Last time it was curly. I start picking up hair when Kreacher enters.

"Kreacher got it," he says.

"I got it."

"Kreacher's job is to clean."

Before I could argue, he snaps his fingers. All of the hair I cut off dissapears.

"C," one of the boys call. Kreacher disappears and I head downstairs.

Harry is sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast prepared.
"You cut your hair," he says. I nod my head and sit down.

"The other two still asleep?"

"Nope."

Hermione and Ron sits next to me and Harry.

"Morning, Ginger," I tease. "Morning, Brains."

"Oi," Ron whines. I smile.

"You cut your hair," Hermione changes the subject. I shrug and start eating while the others talk. They look at me.

"What?" I ask. My mouth is full of scrambled eggs.

"Very lady like," Hermione laughs. I shrug.

"What's today?" Harry asks. I shrug my shoulders again as I continue shoveling food down my throat. Ron laughs, then starts eating.

"Happy birthday, C," Hermione squeals. I shrug my shoulders for a third time. Ron pushes his empty plate away from him. Did he inhale the food?

"Why did you shrug?" Harry asks.

"It just means I don't have the trace anymore."

"It's also your birthday," Hermione argues.

"Well, I don't want anything you can give."

I get up and head to the sitting room. I sit at the piano and play a few notes before I remember what Lupin taught me before I went to the twins' joke shop. I start playing the fragment of a Mozart piece. Harry walks in.

"That was good," he states.

"I prefer drawing over playing."

"Then you'll like this gift. It's from all three of us."

He hands me the poorly wrapped gift. Clearly Ron wrapped it. I open it and see sketch book and a pencil. I laugh.

"I haven't seen an actual pencil in so long."

He smiles and I smile back.

"Thank you for the gift."