The ancient walls of 12 Grimmauld Place seemed to breathe with a life of their own as Sirius Black paced across the drawing room's worn floorboards. Freedom still felt foreign to him, like an ill-fitting coat he hadn't quite grown into. After twelve years in Azkaban, the simple act of walking freely in his childhood home was both a blessing and a curse. Lack of routine had him unable to get through the day.
A soft pop announced Kreacher's arrival. "Bloodtraitor has a visitor," the house-elf announced, his tone carrying its usual undercurrent of disdain. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting in the entrance hall."
Sirius paused mid-stride, running a hand through his dark hair. In the week since his exoneration, visitors had been rare. Most of the wizarding world was still adjusting to the truth about Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and his own innocence.
"Show him up," Sirius said, his voice rough from disuse, deciding to ignore the house-elf's familiar verbal disparagement for right now.
Albus' entry took a while.
Moments later, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, his midnight blue robes sweeping the floor as he entered. The usual twinkle in his eyes seemed somewhat dimmed, replaced by an expression Sirius couldn't quite read.
"Good evening, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "I trust you're settling back in?"
Sirius gestured to a pair of armchairs near the fireplace. "As well as can be expected in this cesspit. Drink?"
"Perhaps later," Dumbledore replied, lowering himself into one of the chairs. "I'm afraid I've come with rather significant news."
Something in the headmaster's tone made Sirius sink into the opposite chair. "More significant than my newfound freedom?"
"That depends entirely on your perspective." Dumbledore paused, studying Sirius over his half-moon spectacles. "What do you recall about a woman named Seroise Gaunt?"
The name Seroise stirred something in Sirius's memory – a foggy recollection of a night that felt like it belonged to another lifetime. Dark eyes, clever words, and a smile that had cut through the numbness he'd been feeling in those final weeks before everything fell apart.
Just a moment ago, they'd started out with a sizeable space between them, now - they were mere inches apart,
Jutting out her lip as if disappointed, she pulled him along, the sound of his quiet chuckle heard only by her, 'Go on then, you've convinced me,' he'd said as his vision followed the soft light which had caught the delicate arch of her cheeks,
Ah.
"Vaguely—yes," he admitted. "We met at a Muggle pub, about two weeks before..." He trailed off, not needing to specify the date that had changed everything. Sirius felt jarred by the sudden reminder of his.. one night stand — especially by Albus of all people, who wouldn't have any knowledge of it in the first place. "Why?"
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "That encounter had consequences you couldn't have anticipated, Sirius." He waits for the words to seep in, for the understanding to reflect itself on his face, and then speaks again when it doesn't. "Ms. Gaunt gave birth to a child nine months later. A daughter. Your daughter."
The words hung in the air like smoke, and Sirius felt the room tilt slightly. He instinctively leaned forward, drawn in by the unexpected words. "Albus- What?"
"Her name is Leona," Dumbledore continued gently. "She's thirteen now, and in her third year at Hogwarts."
Sirius stood abruptly, moving to the window. Why did his ears thrum, despite the silence?The street below was empty, but he barely registered it. A daughter. He had a daughter. The concept seemed impossible to grasp, like trying to hold onto water.
Impacted as he was by the words, the room fell into a stillness.
Until—
"Why wasn't I told?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Ms. Gaunt discovered her pregnancy after your arrest, I presume," Dumbledore explained. "By then, your face must've been on every newspaper and wanted poster in the wizarding world. I suspect she raised Leona alone, though she never hid the truth about you from her, considering.. the girl bears your name."
There was a jolt. Sirius turned back to face Dumbledore, floored, his expression then turning to surprise. Despite his exterior, he felt a storm of emotions.. he couldn't name a single one.
Sirius swallowed. "And now? Where are they?"
"Seroise, I heard, is currently in Italy on Ministry business. Leona remains at their home in France – Gaunt Castle. It's quite well-protected, I assure you. I've had.. an experience, attempting to pass through the gates once - after being invited."
"Gaunt," Sirius repeated, the implications of the name finally registering, now that he wasn't still lost in the whiplash that came after the revelation of the fact that he'd unknowingly fathered a daughter. "As in..."
"The Gaunt family, yes." Dumbledore confirmed.
Sirius ran both hands through his hair, his mind racing. "Does she... does Leona know about my innocence?"
"The news would have reached them by now, though with Seroise abroad, I cannot say how Leona has received it."
Silence fell between them as Sirius processed this information. Finally, he asked the question that had been building in his throat: "What is she like?"
Dumbledore's eyes softened at the question. He watched as Sirius sank back into his chair, hands gripping the worn armrests.
"She's remarkably intelligent," Dumbledore began carefully. "Severus, despite his... usual predispositions, has mentioned her talent. Top of her class in most subjects, as Minerva had once relayed to me, particularly Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. Minerva is quite taken with her, as well as others."
A ghost of Sirius's old smile flickered across his face at that. Then. "Good at Defense Against the Dark Arts? That's..."
"Rather fitting, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Though perhaps not surprising, given her lineage on both sides."
Sirius leaned forward. "Does she look..." He trailed off, uncertain how to phrase the question.
"Like you?" Dumbledore supplied. "There are similarities, though she favors her mother in many ways. She has your coloring – the Black family's distinctive features. Dark hair, elegant bearing. But her manner is quite different from yours at that age."
"How so?"
Albus had paused, likely revisiting his early memories of Sirius, then— "Where you were bold and outspoken, Leona appears more... reserved. Quiet. She possesses a sharp wit that reminds me rather of yourself, though she wields it more selectively." Dumbledore tracks his eyes over Sirius. "She was sorted into Slytherin."
Sirius's expression tightened slightly, but he nodded. "The Gaunt influence, I suppose."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore acknowledged. "She's formed close friendships with several of her housemates, including your young cousin, Draco Malfoy."
A shadow passed over Sirius's features. "Narcissa's boy? The one who..."
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "I should mention, Sirius, that Leona's views on certain matters may be... challenging for you to reconcile with."
"You mean she shares the pureblood ideology," Sirius said flatly.
"To an extent," Dumbledore replied. "Though not, I think, with the virulence of some of her peers. She's been raised with traditional pureblood values, but also with a mother who, while proud of her heritage, does not embrace the more extreme positions of families like the Malfoys. I've spoken, once or twice, with Seroise — a woman that I've come to see stands as a reminder that the most powerful force one can wield is giving-and-taking.. shes balanced by the insight gained from a life filled with reflection."
Grey eyes look to the floor, taking in the character of a person worlds away - through the lens of a man he had come to respect and follow the opinions of without hesitation. Then—
Sirius stood again, slowly this time, moving to the cabinet where he kept the firewhisky. After the focus had veered to the his other curiosity, he brought it back to the original one— he poured himself a measure with slightly shaking hands. He felt as if on the verge of combustion, when a moment ago he'd been calm after being seated. "Does she..." He took a steadying breath. "Does she hate me? For being in Azkaban? For not being there?"
"Sirius," Dumbledore said, delicately. "From what I understand and what I have seen, shes always been .. curious about you. I doubt her mother ever portrayed you with vilification, merely as an absence to be explained when she was old enough to understand."
The relief on Sirius's face was palpable. He took a long drink before asking, "And Harry? Does she know about..." Sirius asks, referring to him being Harry's Godfather, his questions endless and Dumbledore's patience infinite. Sirius had absolutely no one else to throw these unanswered questions towards.
"Your relationship with Harry? That, Sirius, may prove to be one of the more delicate aspects of this situation." Dumbledore's expression grew more subdued. "The two seem to have a... strained relationship, largely due to house rivalries and her friendship with young Mr. Malfoy. Close to Harry as I am, I've been able to offer him perspectives to aid him through such trivial yet unavoidable situations—but alas.."
Sirius closed his eyes briefly. "Of course they do," he muttered. "Because nothing about this could be simple, could it?"
"Life rarely is," Dumbledore agreed softly. "Particularly where family is concerned."
A heavy silence fell between them. Finally, Sirius turned back to Dumbledore, his expression determined. "I need to see her. To talk to her. She's at 'Gaunt Castle', you said?"
"Yes, though I would counsel patience, Sirius. This will be a significant adjustment for both of you. Perhaps we should discuss how to approach—"
"I've lost twelve years," Sirius interrupted, his voice rough with emotion, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. "I won't lose another day if I can help it."
Dumbledore studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Very well. But there are things you should consider."
Sirius paced again, his movements reminiscent of the large black dog he could become. "Such as?"
"Leona has grown up in a very structured environment," Dumbledore explained. "Seroise seems to have raised her with traditional pureblood customs and etiquette. Your... somewhat direct approach might be jarring for her. You're elated, as you should be, I would never wish otherwise, but children at that age are very—"
A bitter laugh escaped Sirius. "You mean I shouldn't burst in like a reformed convict demanding a father-daughter reunion?"
"Precisely," Dumbledore said, ignoring the sarcasm. "She may share your blood, but she's been raised in a world more aligned with the one you once rejected."
Sirius paused by the fireplace, staring into the flames. "How would you suggest I approach her, then?"
"A letter, perhaps? To announce your intention to visit?" Dumbledore suggested. "It would show respect for her space and give her time to process the idea."
"A letter," Sirius repeated, running a hand through his hair. "What would I even say? 'Dear daughter I never knew existed, sorry I missed the first thirteen years of your life, but I was wrongfully imprisoned. Fancy a chat?'"
Dumbledore's eyes held a glimmer of their usual amusement that seemed to unveil at practically anything outside of the ordinary. "Perhaps with slightly more finesse. But honesty would not go amiss."
Sirius slumped back into his chair, troubled by the possible action, and yet also troubled by inaction. He pauses. "Tell me more about her. What does she like? What makes her laugh? Does she play Quidditch?"
"She's quite fond of reading. She excels in her studies, as I previously stated - but now that I think of it," Dumbledore blinked. "—I rarely hear about young Miss Black flaunting her intelligence..." He then continued. "As for Quidditch..." Dumbledore paused. "Such things could.. possibly, be outside her realm of enjoyment."
"And her friends? The Malfoy boy and...?"
"Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Blaise Zabini are her closest companions. They're an... interesting group. Quite influential within their house." Dumbledore continued. "I rarely witness students fall out from their specific groups, quite loyal, such students."
Sirius's expression darkened slightly. "All from traditional pureblood families."
"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged, understanding the current thoughts plaguing Sirius' mind. "Though I would caution against judging her too harshly for these associations. Remember, this is the world she knows."
"The world I tried so hard to escape," Sirius muttered.
"And yet," Dumbledore said gently, "it has produced a daughter who, despite her prejudices, possesses qualities you might recognise in yourself. She has your quick mind, your ability to see through pretense. From what I understand, she simply applies these traits... differently, than you would."
Unable to think of much else to ask, or say, Sirius let the silence take over.