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“It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.” - J. K. Rowling
On it’s best day, Grimmauld Place was haunted.
On its worst, it was a terror.
Today, Hermione was not sure which she preferred, the haunting, or the terror. She was sitting in the library trying to find answers, but all she could focus on was the shrieking from the tapestry a few rooms away. “Merlin’s beard, I am never going to get this figured out if she doesn’t stop. I just want to sleep, and even that doesn’t happen with that bloody tapestry.” Hermione mumbled to herself as she put another book back on the shelves. “There has to be a book here that has what I need. That’s why she keeps howling.”
Hermione ran her fingers along the shelf, looking for a clue. A slender, leather book caught her attention, not because of its size, but because it was a tattered book among pristine copies. Carefully removing the small book from the shelf, Hermione looked over the spine and cover. There were no markings to say which member of the Black family the book had belonged to but, it was clear that it was a journal that did not belong where it had been placed.
Hermione walked across the library to the chairs by the fireplace. Opening the cover, Hermione began to read the entries she found.
June 6, 1971 - Mother says Reg and I will become great Slytherin men and uphold the name of Black. What if I don’t want to be a snake? What if I want to be something more?
August 6, 1971 - I am not a snake. I am not a snake. I am NOT a snake. I don’t want to be a Black anymore. I am more than this. When can I leave this place?
September 6, 1971 - I am a lion. Thank Merlin, I am a lion. Mother is not happy. I can be more than just a Black. James and Remus sat with me at dinner. I wish Reg were more like them.
Hermione drifted off to sleep as she continued to read the journal of young Sirius Black.
“I have to hide this before she sees it,” Sirius mumbled to himself as he slipped into the library. Being sorted into Gryffindor had not helped his situation, and he had thought his journal would be safe in his school trunk. But, he had caught his brother looking through his trunk this morning. Reg had said he just wanted to see what Gryffindor “stuff” looked like so he would know what to burn when he got to school. Sirius knew better. Mother had asked Reg to find the journal. She had been screaming at him for almost a year. It started with a howler the day after he was sorted and had not stopped. He had spent the last year pouring his thoughts into his journal, but it was no longer safe. He knew he could not take his journal with him to Hogwarts, but he couldn’t leave it in his room either. Between his brother and cousins, he had no allies in this house and very few at school. “Mother will be looking for me soon. Dinner is at six, and I am never appropriate.”
Sirius walked to the shelves at the back of the room. Quickly, he slid his tattered journal on to one of the middle shelves, between two giant tombs about family history. “Maybe I will fit in now,” he whispered to the journal as he ran a finger down the spine. “At least you are squeezed into the family history. I never will be.”
As he turned to leave the room, Sirius thought he saw a girl in his favorite chair by the fire. “Now I am seeing ghosts in the shadows,” he muttered, touching the fabric of the empty chair. “Another way I will never grow from the same roots as the rest of my family."
Hermione startled as she felt a ghostly hand on her leg. Sorrow whispered through the room as she stretched out her legs and back. She looked down at the journal on her lap. “At least I know who this belonged to. It doesn’t help with my current puzzle, but maybe it can help with some others.”
Hermione turned through the pages of the journal. “I wonder why he left it here? How different was he from the rest of his family that he had to hide his journal in the middle of the family history? No wonder she screams all the time.”
Hermione continued to read the journal as she walked into the drawing room from the library. “Madame Black,” she addressed the shrieking woman in the tapestry. “Your son did great things and is an honor to the Black family name. He may not have been what you wanted, but he has always been what we needed.”
Closing the journal, Hermione laid it on the small table in the corner of the room. The last entry in the journal played through her mind as she closed the door on the shrieking tapestry.
August 26, 1972 - I caught Reg going through my trunk today. I think he was looking for this journal. I know he sees me writing in it every day. I am going to hide it where no one will think to look for it. Maybe, someday, people will see me not as a Black, but as a wizard who did good things.
“I know how Harry sees you.” Hermione thought to herself. “As a wizard who did great things and is deeply missed.”