25 | B L A C K

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I find it hard to hide it.
                          quiet is violent.

                          quiet is violent

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   "EMBER POTTER!"

   His dark, husky voice wasn't less frightening than his features; long black hair, a face like a skull, eyes sunken deep into their holes. If Ember hadn't known he was purely innocent, she could have easily mistaken him for a gruesome murderer. But taking a second glance, she noticed the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled, a warm glimming in his eyes. Nobody who would have risk a second look at Sirius Black could be dumb enough to think that this man could have harm anyone.

   "Just look at you!", he chuckled, watching her cheeks flushing pink and a shy smile dance on her face. "Last time I saw you, you haven't been taller than a barnowl."

   "Yah, and I lost all my feathers as well", she nervously replied, not knowing what to say in a situation like this. At least it happens not everyday that the best friend of your dead parents, who's an innocent, but convicted murderer, tells you how much you've grown while he was in prison for a murder he'd never attempted. Ron commented that with an awkward grunt.

   "Now that you know each other", Harry said, stepping next to Ember and throwing his godfather a concerned look, "can we come to discuss how much of an awful idea it is for you to hide in Hogsmeade, Sirius?"

   "I'm not hiding in Hogsmeade, I'm hiding close to Hogsmeade", Sirius replied in an easy voice. "I want to be around, Harry. You don't need to try that look on me, your mother used to do the same and it never worked." Harry stiffened next to Ember, and Sirius seemed to notice his worries were more than real. "No one will find me. I'm just a cute stray to them. See, those things happening — they're no coincidences, Harry. First Bertha Jorkins, now ol' Barty; it wasn't just a harmless prank that you got into this tournament. You should have realised at the latest when someone tried to finish off Ember in the lake."

   "To be honest, I don't really get that", Ember admitted what she'd been thinking for a while now. "They're obviously after Harry. There's always someone after Harry. Not me. Why would anyone try to kill me? Don't you think it has just been an accident?"

   "It takes a bigger piece of magic to break a spell and hind people to use magic on you straight after", Sirius replied, shaking his head. "This was no coincidence, Ember. But I agree with you that it doesn't make much sense. Why would someone make Harry the champion, but try to murder you? Unless they want the both of you dead."

   Of course Ember had thought about that. But there just was no reason why anyone would want her dead. Not even Voldemort himself had wasted a Killing Curse on her in that night Lily and James Potter had been murdered. He'd just left her sitting next to her father's corpse, heading straight upstairs to Harry ...

   "No way", Ember said, shaking her head. "Most of the wizarding world doesn't even know about my existence. And as far as they do know, they don't care. I'm not a target. No way."

   Sirius dark grey eyes pierced into hers for a brief moment, she could almost see his brain working on a solution to this riddle, but short after he shook his head.

   "I just want you to be careful, both of you", he told the twins, leaning against the cave's wall. "If there's anything strange happening, if you notice something, I want you to immediately go to Dumbledore."

   They stayed with Sirius for the rest of the afternoon, discussing all the matters and more. Sirius told them of Barty Crouch's cruelty, of his son's horrid fate, of Igor Karkaroff, and of what he remained Bertha Jorkins to be. Ember not for once took her eyes from him, noticing ever single movement in his features as he spoke. It was admiration that quickly took over the pity she'd felt for him during the last couple of months since he escaped Hogwarts and the Dementors' kiss. Fascinated, she listened to him talking about Azkaban, watching this grim expression on his face mixing with the stoutness of a man who was ready to take anything the world was throwing at him, no matter what.

   She wondered if her father had been the same. But then on the other hand, could James Potter have been anything but reckless and brave and determined to hit his aims?

   So when it was finally time to leave, Ron and Hermione were the first to exit the cave, granting Harry and Ember the privacy to tell Sirius goodbye.

   "I don't want you to sneak out of the castle to visit me, got me?", Sirius told Harry, hugging his godson goodbye. "We'll stay in contact, there's no need to risk your life."

   "Like you do, you mean?", Harry scoffed, his lips pouted. Ember knew that look upon his face all too well; it was the same look he always used on Ember when he was worried for no reason — except now there was a reason given. Because Ember couldn't deny that she herself was in sorrow about Sirius.

   Harry took a step back, so Sirius' dark grey eyes found Ember. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you", he said, his arms open wide, and he didn't have to ask her twice: quickly she crossed the space between them and let Sirius engulf her in a warm embrace. "Just know if there's anything on your mind, or bothering you, you can always write me as well. Just address it to Snuffles, just in case the owl got caught."

   "I won't bother you, but thanks for —"

   Her voice died, as Sirius barked a roaring laughter. "Bother me? I missed thirteen years of your life, Ember, you couldn't even bother me if you tried", he then said, and she smiled sheepishly. "See, I'm technically not your godfather, but be sure I won't mind to be there for you as I am for Harry, for your godfather decided to be a bloody bastard —"

   Harry cleared his throat, cutting Sirius off, but he already had all of Ember's attention.

   "What do you —?"

   But the question got stuck in her throat, unnecessary to ask, because it all of a sudden was crystal clear. They had trusted him. Lily and James Potter had trusted him, and she had completely forgotten about that. They had trusted him their lives. And so they'd trusted him their daughter. Peter Pettigrew.

—

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