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Disclaimer: The characters and places you recognize are product of J.K. Rowling's utter genius; the rest, is all mine.
Disclaimer 2: The tittle of this stoy comes after Pink Floyd's song "Whish You Were Here". The tittle of this chapter is inspired in The Rolling Stones' song "Yesterdays' Papers".



Chapter One: Yesterday's Letters


20 June 1994

Dear Sirius,

I have to admit: I’ve written and rewritten this letter about a thousand times over the past thirteen years, always hoping for the time to finally send it. Words can’t express my complete sorrow and guilt. I know you expected more of me. I did try; I swear. After He killed James and Lily and my world fell apart, I attempted to reach you, to look into your eyes, and ask you if you really were their Secret Keeper. I went to Dumbledore for help, but he told me there were more than twenty eyewitnesses and they had all identified you as guilty. Sirius, I was so lost. I couldn’t believe it. But everything pointed toward you--even Remus, for Merlin’s sake! Even he was convinced of your guilt in their murder. And somehow, I gave up. I went to Dumbledore for the last time, told him I was retiring from the Order, and asked him to reach me when the truth finally came out. I still remember his last look. He said to me that it was unwise to linger in a hopeless limbo and that accepting the truth was the first step to healing. I know this all sounds like a lame excuse, and you may be right, but I have to make you understand. I wanted to fight--for you and for us, but my fuel, my main motivation in life turned out to be a mass murderer. I was left with nothing, no one to rely on. The person I trusted most was sent to Azkaban. I hope someday you’ll be able to understand what I went through and forgive me. Now, thirteen years have come and gone, and finally I have received the letter I’ve longed for for so many years. I still can’t believe Pettigrew was behind it all, feeding You-Know-Who information about us since God knows when and betraying James and Lily like that. I hope I get the chance to get back with that traitor before I die; he deserves to suffer for everything he took from us. Deep down I always knew you were innocent. I just hope you don’t hate me for giving up on you. All these years, I’ve felt as if I handed you to the Dementors myself. There is so much I want to tell you. I would like to see you. Please think about it.

Yours forever,

Iz


***


5 August 1994

Dear Sirius,

Thank you for writing back. I didn’t expect you to be warm and kind after all these years, so that’s alright. Just keep writing to me, OK? That’s all I ask for. I hope you are having a nice time, wherever you are. You certainly deserve it. Have you thought about my proposition about seeing each other? I’m living in France now. Maybe you could come by and visit? We’ll take all the precautions necessary to ensure your safety.

Now to answer your questions. I’m fine. I’m the proud owner of a small bookstore specializing in rare, antique books. Business is pretty good. I have great clients all over the world, and I get to travel around continental Europe to acquire copies of unique volumes. I haven’t contacted anyone from the old days. After what happened, I pretty much disappeared. It wasn’t easy at first. I missed everyone, especially Lily. Knowing that she was dead made everything so much harder. Dumbledore is the only one who has known where I’ve been all this time. I’ve been writing to him occasionally, asking about random things, especially Harry’s fate. He doesn’t give much news about Harry, though; always the stoic “fine.” He has always been a bit mysterious about Harry’s whereabouts, which is perfectly understandable. I’m quite sure Harry won’t be completely safe until You-Know-Who is dead, and we both know he is still alive somewhere.

Take care, Sirius. Please be careful. I’ve read the news. They’re still looking all over for you, contacting the people from those days and asking awkward questions. It won’t be long before they come knocking at my door. If they actually manage to find me, that is. Don’t worry. You can trust me. I hope that in spite of everything, you still do. Have a nice vacation. I hope you finally get a decent tan.

With all my love,

Your Iz


***


16 September 1994

Dear Sirius,

I haven’t received any news from you since July, and I’m getting a bit worried. I hope you are OK. I guess it isn’t easy for you to send post. So until you can, I’ll just keep writing. You know--keeping communication channels open even if it is a one-way channel.

Recently, all kinds of memories have been coming back, both happy and sad. I feel that I have so many unfinished chapters in my life. I need some healing, Sirius, and I’m sure you do, too. Please think about my offer. Let me see you just one more time.

Take care,

Iz



***



5 November 1994

Dear Sirius,

I understand your silence of all those months. Don’t worry about it. I must say, I’m not sure going back to the UK was such a good idea. I know you feel compelled to watch over Harry. I also think that if you get caught and sent back to Azkaban, you will not be such a great godfather. Please reconsider it. Harry is at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore’s permanent care. Nothing will happen to Harry while Dumbledore is at the school. I know that the chance of all that happened at the Triwizard Tournament being just an accident or coincidence is quite slim, but are you sure you need to be there?

In your last letter, you said you might be passing through France. Does that mean we can see each other?

Although he doesn’t remember me, or even know anything about my existence, quietly send all my love to Harry.

Iz


***



21 January 1995

Dear Sirius,

It took you a while to write back, but I’m glad you finally did. I imagine it must be awful living in that smelly, cold cavern. I trust you are taking all precautions for your safety. But, I know you are a skilled wizard and a mastermind at concealment, so I’m sure you’re able to pass incognito. I still don’t know how was it that you and James managed to sneak around Hogsmeade so often without being caught. You once promised you’d tell me sometime. I hope you’ll stick to that.

I completely understand your responsibility toward Harry right now, so I know we won’t be able to see each other until the tournament is over. I’ll be waiting for you. I have been for almost fourteen years now. Speaking of Harry, how is he?

Take care,

Yours lovingly,

Iz


PS: I saw a picture of you in a “Wanted” announcement published in The Prophet the other day. You look awful with your hair so long. On the other hand, you look devilishly sexy with that “bad guy” look you’ve managed to develop.


***



29 March 1995

Dearest,

You remembered my birthday! Thank you for the roses. They’re lovely.

I’m thrilled to know Harry has been doing OK and receiving high marks at the tournament. Whoever set him up to get enrolled in those bloody games must be quite disappointed. I’m relieved to know that he has you as a guardian angel.

I wish I could be there with you, keeping you company at least. I’m quite confident this nightmare will be soon over and all wizards will be able to live in tranquillity. You’ll be cleared of all charges, and we will be able to see each other again in the open and live the rest of our lives in that cottage by the lake as we planned. Dreams are nice, huh?

Take care.

Yours,

Iz




***



25 June 1995



What do you mean He is back?

Care to elaborate?



***



28 June 1995

Sirius,

I received a letter from Dumbledore, too. I’m not going back. My life is here now. I won’t budge. I’m sorry. Maybe you expected more of me, but I’m staying in France. If I can be of any assistance to the Order here, then I will gladly help.

I guess this means we won’t be seeing each other over the summer as you promised.

Take care,

Iz


***



2 October 1995



I think I did all I could when I received Hagrid here for a few days. I’m sorry to disappoint you again, but I’m not going back to England. Please, stop asking.



Isabel




***

26 December 1995

Happy Christmas!

Iz



***



31 March 1996

Sirius,

Thank you for the book. You are right; it is quite the jewel. And don’t worry; I would never dream of selling it. My birthday was fine. Thank you for asking. I had a nice celebration organized by some of my friends. It was a bit quiet, but it was OK.

I’m glad you keep writing to me. Believe me, it is very important to receive news from you. I like to read your stories about the latest events and your thoughts on the current situation. You know perfectly well that I care about you very much. But please, I would like you to stop asking me to go back. I can’t go back, Sirius. I have things going on here; responsibilities. I’m not that young anymore, and I can’t throw caution to the wind as I did fourteen years ago.

I don’t mind you telling Remus I’m still alive and well. I consider him my friend too. Tell him I’m sorry for leaving as I did, and that I promise that someday I will explain my reasons. If he wants to write to me, I would be more than delighted to hear from him. Please, send him my love and best wishes.

Bye,

Iz


***



28 May 1996

Dear Sirius,

You deserve a more elaborate explanation. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell you this before. It is quite an important thing. I have a daughter, Sirius. Her name is Pauline, and she’s thirteen years old.

She’s a great kid. She smiles all the time. She’s funny and intelligent. She makes great marks at school and seems to be quite popular among the boys. She is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. I wish you could meet her; you two would get along. She’s just like you in so many ways. Her laid-back attitude and lack of caution remind me so much of you.

So, there you go. That’s the main reason why I can’t go back to London. I have a daughter, and I have to take care of her. I’m not on my own anymore. I have to be responsible for her, and I can’t allow myself to be put into a situation where my girl could be left without a mother. You probably think it’s so cowardly of me, and you may be right. But I remember well what happened when James and Lily died and left their only son alone in the world. I remember when Bellatrix and her gang tortured Alice and Frank, driving them to insanity and leaving behind a worse-than-orphaned son. So much for being brave! I won’t have my daughter go through that. If you had children, you would know what it is like. You do have Harry, though, so you must have at least a shrewd idea.

I beg of you one last time, please stop asking me to go back. It has nothing to do with you. It’s not that I’m afraid of seeing you or anyone else for that matter. How could I be afraid to see you? Sirius, I love you. After all these years, I’m still very much in love with you. Nothing could ever change that. But my situation is different than it was last time. My life is different. I’m different. But while I have changed over the past fourteen years, my love for you remains unchanged. So please, don’t think for even a moment that I don’t want to see you again. I do with all my being long to see you.

I’m sorry, Sirius. I hope you’ll be able to understand someday.

Your Iz.


***



Harry watched Hermione as she finished reading the pack of letters he had given her half an hour earlier. Ron was sitting besides her, reading over her shoulder. As Hermione set down the last page, Harry asked her what she thought of it all.

Right after finding the letters and reading them thoroughly, Harry decided that this was a matter he should share with his two best friends in the hope they would help him decipher what it all meant. He had promised Ginny to spend the afternoon with her, so he felt a bit guilty about being in Ron and Hermione’s flat at the time, but somehow hoped Ginny would understand once he filled her in the situation. She seemed a bit edgy as of late, so while Hermione and Ron read the letters, he tried to come up with excuses and rehearse a credible story to explain her what was so important that he had to stop by Ron and Hermione’s before meeting her at the park as they had agreed. To many, finding these sort of letters would be just a cute discovery or some sort of gossip, but to Harry it meant having proof that Sirius Black once existed, had a real life and had been happy. He just had to find out about Isabel and Sirius; he had to know if his suspicions were accurate. Who else to clear his thoughts but his faithful friends and confidents? He just hoped Ginny would share his feelings on the matter.

Harry kept looking at an intrigued Hermione and asked her once more to share her thoughts.

Ron, however, considered his input on the matter far more appropriate, so he cut off his fiancée’s reply and responded, “I guess Sirius wasn’t the lone wolf we thought he was.”

Hermione kept looking at Harry. On her face was the calculating look she adopted every time she was trying to solve a problem. It was so easy to read Hermione’s calculating face; he could even see the wheels turning in her head.

“So, Hermione, what do you think?” Harry pressed on, ignoring Ron’s last intervention.

“I’m not sure,” was all she said.

“What are you talking about?” Ron demanded. “It’s obvious this Isabel-lady and Sirius were an item.”

“That part was quite obvious, Ron.” Hermione sighed. “Didn’t you read her last letter?”

“Of course, I did. That was the part where she told him she still loved him and all that corny crap. I still don’t get why it’s such a huge thing. Sirius used to have a girlfriend a million years ago. So what?”

“She has a daughter, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, exasperated.

“A thirteen-year-old daughter,” Harry explained. “She had a thirteen-year-old daughter in 1996.”

“So? I still don’t get what the fuss is about. Sirius’s ex happens to have a thirteen-year-old daughter, and that brings you running to our flat on a Sunday? You should be enjoying the nice day with Ginny or something.”

Harry couldn’t help feeling a slight pang of guilt after Ron’s words, but dismissed the feeling quickly. He had more pressing and important matters that his rendez-vous with his fiancée.

“Do I have to explain everything to you?” Hermione asked. “If this Isabel-person had a thirteen-year-old daughter in 1996 and dated Sirius until late 1981, the girl could perfectly well be Sirius’s daughter.”

“Don’t you think we would’ve heard something about it before? I mean, if Sirius received this letter and did the same math you just did, he would’ve suspected the girl was his. In that case, he must’ve investigated the matter further and solved the mystery. He probably did. He must have written back to Isabel asking her if the child was his. And, since we never heard anything about Sirius having a long-lost daughter, I guess the girl must have a father somewhere in France!” Ron exclaimed in a triumphant tone.

“Things aren’t that simple,” responded Harry. “The letter was written in late May just a few days before Sirius died. Maybe he didn’t get the chance to ask her properly if she was his. Or, maybe he did write her back asking whether the girl was his daughter but just wasn’t around to receive the reply. I reckon owls don’t make special deliveries beyond the Veil.” Harry growled back growing impatient.

“Harry’s right.” Responded Hermione dismissing Harry’s Veil remark. “I imagine Sirius would’ve taken his time to respond to this last letter, trying to figure out the best way to ask her. One does not simply ask questions like that so easily.”

“Why not?” Ron demanded.

“Because,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes, “it’s a touchy subject. Besides, there are no other letters from her. That must have been the last time they communicated.”

"Still," Ron added, "a lot of time had passed, like thirteen years?" He asked as he counted with his fingers. "And after everything that happened I guess they were mature enough to address the matter calmly, by letter. It is obvious that they did not plan on seeing each other soon; Sirius kept postponing his trip to France by what we can read in the letters. And besides, we all knew Sirius, he wasn’t going to wait until Voldemort decided to drop dead to go and ask Isabel personally if the girl was his daughter... I bet he just wrote her back and asked directly who the father was. That is, if he even suspected the girl to be his."

"Oh, Ronald, please. One does not simply write letters like that. If I were to become pregnant with your child, and not tell you, do you think is something to discuss over a letter? Or would you prefer to meet me and discuss the issue personally?"

Ron went silent, Harry grinned when his best friend’s ears became completely red. It always happened when he felt uncomfortable; he guessed mentioning the possibility of children fell fully into the description. After a few seconds, Hermione spoke again.

"I thought so." She sighed grinning.

“But still, in his will, he left everything to Harry,” Ron interjected evidently trying to change the subject. “If he had a daughter, don’t you think he would’ve left everything to her, instead of him?”

“We don’t know when exactly Sirius made his will,” Hermione continued. “He could’ve left everything to Harry ages before he even received this letter. Or if he wrote the will shortly before his death and knew of the existence of…” Hermione rummaged through the letters. “Pauline, he still wouldn’t have been sure the girl was his. So why change his will to leave everything to a girl who could be related to some Frenchman, as you said? It wasn’t as if Sirius knew he was going to die.”

“Yes, I get your point. But remember Dumbledore said that the house had been charmed by Sirius’ dad so that it would only pass to a Black descendant? Since the last of the blacks died, the house could pass to Harry, otherwise it wouldn’t have.” Ron added.

“Ron, you got it wrong,” smiled Hermione. “It was charmed by Sirius’ dad but the charm was broken when Sirius wrote the will. The house could’ve still passed to Bellatrix or Narcissa. They were Blacks as well.”

“Well not really, they were married to other pure-blood blokes. They were known as Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, in case you forgotten. Maybe the charm only worked for people wearing Black as a last name.” He sneered.

“C’mon Ronald. You’re just being stubborn. If that was the case, the house wouldn’t have passed to Isabel’s daughter either. She wasn’t christened as a Black you know. It was a matter of blood not last names.”

“We don’t know that. Isabel wasn’t specific about the girl’s last name in her letters. Calling her Pauline Black would’ve been quite a give away being that she didn’t want Sirius to know she had a daughter!”

“We don’t know that either. Maybe Isabel was waiting for Sirius to go to France and tell him the news in person in stead of writing it on a piece of paper. I guess that’s why she insisted so much on seeing him once more. She wanted to tell him personally that he was a father. That’s what I would’ve done, what any girl would’ve done. But being that things back then were so complicated with Voldemort being back and fighting a silent war with the Order, the Sirius-Isabel encounter seemed farther and farther; so maybe she decided she better tell him by mail. I guess this was the entrée for the big news.”

“And,” Harry added, “Isabel says that the girl is just like him in so many ways! It’s a not-very-discreet way of hinting that the girl is Sirius’s daughter,” he concluded, as if settling the matter.

“I’m still not sure. What about Dumbledore? He must’ve known Isabel had a daughter. He would’ve done something,” Ron insisted.

“Well, not really,” Hermione said after thinking about Ron’s last statement. “She said Dumbledore knew where she was and where to find her in case Sirius was released, but that doesn’t mean he knew she had a daughter.”

“But, Hermione, she said she used to correspond with Dumbledore. She obviously trusted him if she made sure he still knew where she was. She would’ve confided in him.”

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, thinking. It was true. Ron had a point. Dumbledore seemed to be the only person whom she trusted. If she had been pregnant with Sirius’s baby, the logical thing to do would have been to tell Dumbledore. And besides, Dumbledore always seemed to know everything about everyone; now, years after his death, Harry knew it had nothing to do with Dumbledore’s skill as a legillimens or unknown clairvoyance powers, it was just because he was trustworthy and even more, he elated wisdom which always motivated people to confide in him.

"Ron has a point Hermione," Harry sighed, "I’m almost sure Dumbledore knew many things about Isabel’s life. Just think how it must’ve been at the time. Sirius was in Azkaban, my parents were killed, Pettigrew had been supposedly murdered by Sirius... If Isabel became pregnant of Pauline before Sirius was imprisoned, the whole situation would’ve been more than overwhelming. I guess that she needed a lot of support and by what she says in her letter, the person she turned to was Dumbledore. Now that I think about it, it makes even more sense that Pauline is Sirius´ daughter!

"Listen to this," Harry began excitedly, "Isabel learns she’s pregnant with Sirius´ child. She is sure Sirius couldn’t have been responsible for my parent’s and Wormtail´s death, but nobody listens to her. Everybody is going to act weird towards her if they learn about her pregnancy; either because they are going to treat her condescendingly or because they will assume that Isabel had something to do with Sirius´ crimes as well, so they are going to treat her and the child as the relatives of a terrible criminal. There was no way she could’ve raised Pauline in such environment. So she tells Dumbledore that she has to flee the country, asks him to never reveal the fact that Sirius was going to be a parent and leaves without a trace."

"I think Harry is right," Ron agreed. "I imagine Dumbledore swore never to tell anyone about Pauline. And when Sirius escaped from Azkaban he just warned Isabel and expected her to deal with the matter. It is logical that Dumbledore would’ve avoided to meddle in the matter, it was something between Isabel and Sirius alone."

“The funny thing is,” Hermione said suddenly, “that they corresponded for more than a year, and she didn’t tell him about her daughter until her last letter. That’s a bit suspicious, if you ask me. If Dumbledore did know she had a daughter but chose to remain silent, and she seemed quite reluctant to admit the fact to Sirius, it probably because she was completely determined to keep Pauline’s existence a secret. Maybe she never intended Sirius to know about her daughter, or to tell him in completely different circumstances."

“There could be a lot of reasons for hiding the girl’s existence. We don’t know why she avoided telling Sirius about the girl for so long, as you say, they corresponded for almost two years. What if she had an affair with someone else and got pregnant? Then the girl wouldn’t have been Sirius’s daughter, and that would be an embarrassing thing to admit. I mean, imagine writing to your long-lost lover and saying, ‘Hello, I miss you so much, and I still love you. By the way, I was unfaithful to you and got pregnant with another bloke’s baby. I hope it’s OK!’ That’s just ridiculous,” Ron snorted.

“Yeah,” Hermione managed to utter as she dwelled in her thoughts.

“No!” exclaimed Harry with disgust. “In her last letter, she told him she was still head-over-heels in love with him, and it sounds believable. She didn’t cheat on Sirius! As I already told you, I bet she got pregnant right before Voldemort murdered my parents and never had the chance to tell him. Then fourteen years later, she just didn’t know how to tell him and was waiting for the perfect time. It makes sense. As Hermione said, that’s why she wanted him to go to France to visit her. It’s the sort of thing you say in person.”

This last explanation left Ron silent. He stared at Harry with a suspicious look, not saying anything.

“You are right, Harry,” Hermione finally said, startling him. She had been silent for so long, he had almost forgotten she was still there. “I think Pauline is Sirius’s daughter.”

“How is it that you found those letters anyway?” Ron demanded.

“I’ve been thinking of selling Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the last couple of months. I don’t like it there; it reminds me of how miserable Sirius was when he was forced to stay. So, I went to see what it was like. It’s been almost five years since the last time I visited the place, and let me tell you, it’s a complete disaster. I thought some cleaning was in order. I began by taking the things I think I’ll keep for myself: mostly Sirius’s belongings.

“By the way, Hermione, do you think there’s a way of removing Sirius’s mother portrait, the family tree and all the Black paraphernalia? I’m sure no one in his right mind would be willing to buy it unless it’s Black-free.”

“Hmm… I don’t think so, Harry. I remember Sirius saying that if he could, he would remove those portraits, but he never managed to do it.”

“You could use The Elder Wand, you know,” Ron piped in

“I’d rather not,” Harry explained. “Not for something like this.”

“Well, it’s not like you need the money Harry.” Ron began, “you could put it out for sale for half the price and say to the potential buyers you are willing to give up a series of magical relics because you don’t want the house to loose its original grandeur. It’ll look like the bargain of the century. It’s all about merchandising mate.”

“What?” Hermione laughed. “And when they actually buy the house and get tired of Mrs. Black’s constant compliments what are they going to do? Harry will appear as a slimy swindler!”

“Harry? Never. He’s the savior of the world, remember? No one would even dare to accuse him of tricking people into buying houses in his spare time.”

“I guess you could sell it to the Ministry of Magic and make the house a museum or a war memorial,” Hermione pointed out.

“Or, you can sell it to Draco Malfoy. He’ll love the pure-blood décor of the place. And I’m sure Mrs. Black would just be thrilled to see him, they’ll be great pals.” Chuckled Ron.

Harry laughed at Ron’s last comment. He pictured the idea of showing his godfather’s house to the Malfoys, it sure sounded like a plan. “It’s Ok, guys. I’ll figure it out on my own. Getting back to the point, I found the letters under a false plank,”

Harry arrived to Number 12, Grimmauld Place on a windy morning. He looked up at the familiar building and wondered how on Earth he was to convince anyone to buy the place. He walked in and gladly found that the spell Moody casted to repel Snape had been lifted; probably due to the death of the later. The house was dusty as ever and he wondered what would’ve been Kreacher’s reaction upon seeing the abandoned place. Thank God he desisted of the idea of inviting him along when he decided to sell the house. It also smelled funny, like old socks, burnt pots and humidity. As he walked through the house, he realized he was leaving tracks behind him; the five-year dust that now inhabited the house had formed a thick layer that resembled the first coat of snow that falls in the winter. At that point he decided he was going to hire the magical cleaning company the state agent had suggested after all; there was no way in hell he was going to devote his free time to clean this place. Let professionals do the dirty job, literally.

He tried to make as little noise as possible; he dreaded Mrs. Black’s rants and mostly felt completely against the idea of running to her portrait to stun her angered face. He entered the kitchen, the place that had once been the meeting haven of the Order of the Phoenix was now a mere deposit for old pans, rotten potatoes, rock-hard bread and dirty towels. The chairs were all turned on the ground and he saw several burnt marks on the walls. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in this kitchen when Kreacher received a couple of angry Death Eaters instead of Hermione, Ron and himself that dreadful day they infiltrated the Ministry. When Kreacher returned to Harry’s service, he asked the little elf what had happened when Voldemort’s cronies entered the house. He merely responded that he had tricked them into searching the rest of the house so he could escape. The little creature was cunning after all.

Harry started to search the house for things he wanted to keep to himself. After searching in vain in various rooms, he decided to go straight into Sirius’ room and began to strip the place. He wanted to keep everything, down to the last sock. As he folded one of his godfather’s old Hogwarts robes he began to wonder where on Earth was he going to store all the stuff since it seemed to pile up into what was becoming a rather big mount. He knew he was never going to use any of these things, but he still wanted them preserved and respectfully treated.

He had already done half of the room when he came across a pile of boxes jam-packed with old quidditch magazines, motorbike pictures, a couple of Muggle books on engine design and some old Muggle football t-shirts. He went through it all wondering, as he inspected carefully each one of them, what had been Sirius’ interest in the item and what had he done with them. He amused himself picturing imaginary situations in which he acquired each one of them or used them; he had a laugh with the Muggle books. What on Earth would’ve Sirius Black found of interest in those volumes, did he even understand them? He, being Muggle raised hadn’t a clue on what a crankcase, piston or a crankshaft was. And, football shirts? It was evident he didn’t support a particular team since he found a Manchester United along an Arsenal shirt. Maybe he found them interesting or trendy; he would never find that one out.

Harry moved the boxes to the door and as he did so, he heard a creaking sound that caught his attention. Upon a more careful examination he discovered the source of the noise; a wooden plank that seemed to be loose. He wondered whether this was a secret hideout for Sirius’ most precious belongings, he remembered this own storage den in number 4, Privet Drive were he hid anything magical or meaningful.

“Wingardium leviosa” he muttered as he tried to levitate the plank out of its place. When he succeeded he crouched and peeked inside the dusty hole. He didn’t see anything at first, only more and more dust. As his disappointment began to ripple through his body, the idea of lighting his wand and searching thoroughly finally formed in his head. “Lumos”, he whispered and searched once more. At last, a red piece of cord caught his attention. He grabbed the end of the gnawed string and pulled hastily. After the twine, a small brown bundle came along almost hitting Harry on the head. The amount of dust the violent movement caused was unbelievable and Harry began to cough his lungs out. After drying his teary eyes Harry tried to remember what had been the source of the ordeal and saw in the corner of his eye the parcel he had found hidden beneath Sirius’ plank.

He untied the red not and unfolded the cloth. The wrinkles evidenced that the fabric had once been white, but the passing of the years and its abandoned state, had dyed it dust-brown. Inside it he found a picture of Sirius and a young woman; and a carefully organized pack of letters.

Harry couldn’t help feeling excited when he remembered the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he found Sirius’ well kept secrets. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time; the thrill of a new mystery, the perspective of a new adventure.

He produced the photo he had found beneath the plank and handed it to his friends. They were in a small but pretty garden. Sirius had his arms wrapped around her and was laughing wholeheartedly. Isabel was waving and laughing too. Harry could tell the picture had been taken during the summer; he couldn’t help bur wonder when and were this had been. That could be his parent’s house back yard, or Isabel’s place. It could’ve happened right after Hogwarts or right before his parent’s death. If only Sirius were there to tell him the whole story, to tell him about Isabel and the time they had been truly happy.

“Is that her?” Hermione asked, grabbing the picture.

“I guess it is. There’s nothing written on the back, but I assume it is,” Harry explained.

Ron emited a rather sonorous wolf-whistle. “She’s a good-looking one, isn’t she? Lucky chap.” added Ron.

As Hermione shot a rather contemptuous look at her fiancé, she asked, “So, what’s the plan now? Are you doing something about all this?”

“Well, if the girl is really Sirius’s daughter, I guess the house and the money I inherited are rightfully hers. So, I should find out if she’s really the last living Black descendant.”

“Don’t forget about Kreacher mate. The elf would be hers as well.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t though of that one,” Harry remarked. He had grown a great amount of affection towards the elf. They had developed a nice relationship in the past four years; Harry even dared to call it a friendship, although he wasn’t sure Kreacher really felt the same way. He didn’t want to loose him. “But I guess I would have to give her the elf as well.” He finally admitted.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Hermione agreed.

“And how are you planning to find out if the girl is Sirius’ daughter?” asked Ron.

“I guess I better find this Isabel and ask her, huh?” Harry asked.

“Well then, mate, I think you are going to see the Eiffel Tower! Do you think that Paris is full of vela descendant witches? Oh, or you could stay with Fleur’s relatives, she has great looking cousins! I’m sure they wouldn’t have a problem receiving England’s hero.” Ron interjected.

“Oh, that’s just great advice Ronald. I’m sure Ginny is going to be thrilled when she learns about the kind of advice you are giving to Harry.” Hermione scolded.

“You wouldn’t.” Said Ron as his voice trembled and his face became pale.

“Oh yes, I would.”

“And you wonder why is it that I prefer to have conversations between my best mate and myself only, you can’t take a joke for the sake of your life.”

“I’m perfectly capable of that, thank you. It’s just that there are some things that no matter how you look at them are not funny at all.”

“Oh, c’mon Hermione, you make such a great deal out of things!”

“Well Ronald-”

“Guys, enough!” pleaded Harry. “We were talking about Isabel, remember?”

“Yeah, sorry Harry.” Responded Hermione still glaring at her boyfriend. “Anyway, how are you going to find her? Nobody knows where she is, except for…”

“Exactly, Hermione. Dumbledore.”



A/N: I want to thank my beta reader India Inverse who helped a great deal with this chapter. Also, I'm particularly fond of reviews, so I would love to know what you think about this chapter. There's a little box just below this note, it won't take more than two minutes. Thanks!!!

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