It Started With a Prank (George Weasley x Reader)

Chapter 30. "Where are you, Dad?"

Y/n's POV

It was breakfast, well, for Delilah and I. Grandfather and Grandmother were still sleeping.

'And they call me lazy,' I thought.

"So what made you chose curly black hair and grey eyes today?" I asked my little sister.

Speaking of curls, my hair has grown considerably more curlier since leaving Hogwarts. They weren't as curly as my cousin, Bellatrix's, but it was little my father's. Wavy, curly. I might've got my mother's hair colour, a shade darker, but I guess it started going curly.

(I believe I had said that you can go by if you have curly or straight hair, but that's gonna change now. You now have curly hair, if you already did ,nice. But you have curly hair now!)

"I look like the man on the front page of the Daily Prophet," my seven-year-old sister replied, focusing on her food.

(I'm sorry if I got the age wrong of Delilah before, I have either forgotten or never had said her age before. But she's seven now!)

"Did it say who?" I asked, paying now attention.

"I didn't read it," Delilah said. "I just saw his face."

"Where's the Prophet?" I questioned her. "I want to see what the story's about."

"It's on the counter," Delilah told me, pointing to a pile of papers on the counter in the kitchen.

I stand up, walking away from my pancakes and eggs and walk over to it.

On the top of the pile is a man with elbow length black, curly hair and grey, stormy eyes that I haven't see in almost twelve years.

My father. The assumed murderer, Sirius Black.

Then it's like I'm taken from my body and taken into a memory, from which I see through my eyes, as a baby.

I've never had this happen before, it must be something to do with my skill at Occlumency and Legilimency.

"Can you say 'Dada'?" my twelve-year-younger father asks me. "Please? Say 'Dada,' Y/n."

"I don't think she can, Sirius," my mother tells him from the doorway of the living room in the Noble and Most Ancient Home of Black.

"She will one day," Dad tells Mum. "Won't you, L.J?"

"Who came up with that nickname for her?" Mum asks, kneeing down next to Dad.

"I believe it was James,"  Dad replies. "Speaking of James, Lia, we should go and visit him, Lily, and Harry. Y/n misses her best friend."

"I think Minerva will have a heart attack when those two go to Hogwarts," Mum giggles. "She had enough trouble with you and James. These two, will be the end of her.

"Black and Potter again," Dad laughs, "that will definitely do her in. Let's owl Lily and James for Y/n and Harry to have a playdate."

"Harry's just older than six months!" Mum exclaims. "It won't be much of a playdate when the most they can to is crawl around."

Dad sighs and looks back into my eyes.

"Say 'Dada'?" he begs me.

I look into those stormy, but full of light, grey eyes and try to form the word. "Da ... da."

Dad's eyes light up even more, as he picks my up from the ground and spins me around.

"Good job, Y/n," he praises. "You're so smart! You'll be top of your class at Hogwarts!"