Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else I don't own.
Summary: Sirius's name has been cleared. He's adopted Harry Potter, and the two of them are now living as father and son in a Muggle neighborhood. Life is great, until a woman dumps a teenage girl on their doorstep—Sirius's long-lost daughter! Can Harry learn to get along with his new sister? Or will she shatter his new-found happiness?
Author's Notes: I was gonna write a story about the Hogwarts days of Sirius Black, James Potter, and the rest, and I may still, but this idea just popped into my head when I was reading fanfiction remembering the fact that my mother's cousin has a long-lost daughter. (I'm serious; he called up his old girlfriend one day and she said "Oh, yeah, there's someone here who'd like to talk to you—your seven-year-old daughter." He had no idea.) So I thought I'd write a little story about Sirius and his own daughter. I'm not sure where I'll take it—maybe romance, or just plain humor—but if you have any ideas for future chapters, just let me know.Chapter One
Life was great. Harry Potter had just completed his fifth year as a member of the Gryffindor House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry less than a month ago. He, along with his two best friends—Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—had been made Prefects just before fifth year had started, and Ron had joined Harry on the Quidditch team. He'd dated Cho Chang, his crush since third year, for several months before realizing he had feelings for Ginny, Ron's younger sister, but he'd remained friends with Cho nonetheless. Ginny was a wonderful girlfriend, and was going to be made not only a Prefect for the upcoming school year, but a Chaser for the Quidditch team, giving them more chances to spend time together. There had even been talk of making Ron or Harry the new Quidditch team captain, as most of the rest of the team was graduating. Fred and George, the teams' Beaters and Ron's elder twin brothers; Alicia Spinnet, one of the teams three Chasers; and Angelina Johnson, a Chaser and team Captain, had left Hogwarts last June, which meant the entire team, save Ron, Harry, and the final Chaser Katie Bell, would be new. Even the fact that the Dark Lord was back was insignificant in Harry's life; Voldemort had faced Harry at the end of last year, and had been fought off by Dumbledore. Now the Ministry believed in Voldemort's return, Voldemort was in hiding, the Daily Prophet had stopped ragging on Harry, and life was unbelievably good.
But the best thing of all was not his new school status, or Quidditch, or even the victory against Voldemort. It was the fact that Harry no longer had to live with the Dursleys. Sirius Black, his godfather, had adopted him the moment Sirius's name was cleared, just after the fight with Voldemort last June. Peter Pettigrew had been brought to justice for his crimes—murder, betrayal, treason, and the framing of Sirius Black, to name a few. He'd been given the Dementor's Kiss, and had stopped eating while locked in Azkaban, eventually starving to death. Harry now had a father, albeit a surrogate one, and was starting to feel like part of a family.
Sirius and Harry lived in a rather roomy house in a suburb of London, within walking distance of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. The floors weren't as big as the ones at the Dursleys' home—there were only three bedrooms, and one bathroom on each floor—but Harry's room was huge, bigger than even Dudley's had been, and there was a full basement and attic to boot. It was in a Muggle neighborhood, but that didn't bother Harry much—especially since he couldn't do magic in the summer until he was seventeen anyways, and he lived at Hogwarts for the rest of the year. Sirius was slightly worried about Muggles seeing Sirius performing spells, however, so Sirius had hurriedly put up some illusions around the house and yard, making it impossible for any Muggles to see magic on their property.
Harry had never enjoyed summer so much in his life. The first week alone involved a fishing trip with Sirius and a day trip to an amusement park, not to mention lots of eating in restaurants (Harry was having a hard time trying to teach Sirius the Muggle method of cooking, and Sirius had never bothered to learn many cooking spells) and constant trips to stores for all kinds of things Harry had always wanted.
"It doesn't get much better than this," Harry said lazily, sitting on the living room couch and flicking the buttons on the remote control to the large television set he'd convinced Sirius to buy (Sirius was quite rich, even more so than Harry's father had been, so money was not a problem in the slightest). Harry was also wearing all-new Muggle clothes—no more of Dudley's huge, hideous leftovers—and he was sporting new glasses, though they were of the same shape (he simply couldn't picture his face with any other type of glasses). He even owned a computer and a new bike, though he had no idea how to ride it. And best of all, he had absolutely no chores to do; Sirius's magic took care of that.
He yawned, pressing the off-button on the remote. Sirius had kept Harry from his considerable pile of homework as much as possible, as Sirius was just as overjoyed as—if not more than—Harry at their new situation and wanted to constantly spend time together… not that Harry minded. Still, he should probably get some work done early—Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were going to visit him around his birthday and stay for the remainder of the school holidays, and Hermione would be constantly nagging him to do it when she came over—and Sirius was presently in the shower, which would make it easier to concentrate.
Harry stood up, stretching. Just as he headed for the stairs, the doorbell rang, startling him. He turned and went to open the door. "Er… may I help you?"
A middle-aged woman was on the doorstep. She might have been pretty, save the fact that she was scowling murderously, her features twisted into an ugly mask, her eyes boring into Harry with a look that made him think of Voldemort. Next to the furious woman was a very pretty Muggle girl who looked about Harry's age, whom he'd never seen before but looked oddly familiar. He had to fight not to stare at her; parts of her hair were dyed purple, and she was sporting a silver nose ring and black combat boots. She looked like a troublemaker, and she had a half-bored, half-amused expression on her face.
"Where is he," growled the woman, drawing Harry's attention away from the girl. "Where is that bastard."
"Beg pardon?" The girl chuckled at the look of astonishment on Harry's face.
"Don't toy with me! Where the hell is Sirius Black!" Without waiting for an answer, she shoved past Harry, striding into the living room determinedly and stomping up the stairs.
"Hey! You can't just—" A hand gripped Harry's arm, and he looked down into the hazel eyes of the girl.
"Don't," she said. "You don't want to get in her way when she's pissed."
Harry was about to protest, but then shouts sounded from upstairs. Harry strained his ears, as did the girl, both of them trying to overhear.
"Showers are a divine invention," Sirius mumbled as the last of the soap was rinsed down the drain. It was something he'd sorely missed in Azkaban and while on the run; it had been far too difficult to keep clean back then.
He paused as he turned the water off. He could hear someone screaming downstairs—a voice that sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"Don't toy with me! Where the hell is Sirius Black!"
Frowning, Sirius started to reach for his towel. Before he could, the door flew open. Sirius's jaw dropped, his towel forgotten. In front of him was a person he least expected—and wanted—to see. "Anya!" he roared at her, his face going scarlet. "What are you doing here?!"
"What are you doing here?" she snarled back. "Forgot to tell me you were reprieved, did you? Forgot to owl me and say you never killed those damn Muggles!? The same thing you forgot to say fifteen years ago?"
He glowered at her. "Maybe if you'd had some faith, instead of condemning me publicly, in every single newspaper, saying you should have known I'd betray my best friend out of jealousy—!"
"Oh, shut it! You never denied it! There were witnesses! And you were jealous of James! What was I supposed to think, when you wouldn't even allow me, your own fianc, to visit you in Azkaban—"
"How could I expose you to the dementors, you twit! I couldn't let you see me like that!"
"And that's why you sent me your engagement ring back? Told me to forget about you? Told me to give up hope? Because my innocent fiancé was in Azkaban and didn't even put up a fight? You let me believe you were a murderer, sent back your ring—I thought you were in You-Know-Who's ranks! Didn't give me a second thought, did you?"
"No, actually," he snapped. "They take every happy thought and memory in your brain and virtually suck it from your head. My only thoughts of you were the ones including Daily Prophet articles about how horrid a person I was!"
"Stop it, Sirius, I don't want to hear it!" she spat, throwing up her hands. "We're through. We've been through. But damn it, you're going to take responsibility for everything you dumped on me by letting yourself be imprisoned!"
"Letting—!?" Sirius began, but she cut him off.
"I don't care. I don't! But I'm not going to let you shirk off your duties as a father. I've raised her for almost fifteen years, you can have her now!"
"What are you talking about?" Sirius said, glaring daggers at her.
"Your daughter," Anya stated coldly. "I've been beside myself trying to raise her, and she costs me a fortune and busts up every relationship I try to have!"
"What daughter?" Sirius stared at her as though she were a five-headed dragon.
"The one you conceived nearly four months before being framed for blowing up a street of Muggles. I've put up with her long enough. She's yours, and you're going to put up with her now." She grinned spitefully. "Surprise!"
Anya turned on her heel and stalked away. Sirius stared blankly for a second and then started to march after her before remembering he was still naked and turned to grab his towel. He dashed down the stairs just in time to see Anya heading out the door. "Anya, what the hell—"
Sirius trailed off, his jaw dropping at the sight of the girl before him, dressed in Muggle clothing. She was good-looking, with Anya's shapely build and smile, though she definitely had Sirius's height; she was almost as tall as Harry was. Her hair was black and thick, just like Sirius's, cut chin-length with the foremost sides dyed purple. Her nose and ears were pierced, as was her navel, which could just be seen between her black tank-top and her flared jeans. Her complexion was just like his. Her hands were just like his. Her eyes were the only feature reminiscent of Anya, though the lashes were longer and the irises were brown with flecks of green. The amused, cynical expression, the arched eyebrow, the nose… it was all his.
She was his.
"Holy crap," he breathed, staring at her in shock and quite a bit of mortification.
"Hiya, Dad," she said, in a mock-cheerful voice. "Nice to meet you. Love the outfit, by the way."
Sirius looked down at his small white towel, closed his gaping mouth, and mumbled, "Excuse me." Then he strode quickly out into the yard and down the sidewalk. "Anya!" he bellowed, running up to the Muggle taxi, where Anya was unloading suitcases and trunks. "You owe me an explanation! You can't just—"
"I don't owe you anything!"
"Fine, you owe it to her to give me an explanation."
Anya slammed the car's trunk closed. "Go to hell, Sirius, I'm sure she'll help you there, she's good at that, and she can explain things while she ruins your life."
Anya got into the taxi, forcefully shutting the door. Sirius banged on the window with one fist, holding his towel shut with his other hand. "Anya! Stop being such a dolt!"
"To King's Cross Station. Now!" Anya snapped at the taxi driver. The female driver gave Sirius a wink and a smile and stomped on the gas. Sirius jogged after the car for a few paces, but the taxi was soon gone at top speed; without his wand—which he couldn't use in a Muggle street anyway—he had no hope of bringing his estranged ex-fiancé back.
He turned, and stared at the pile of luggage, then he glanced back up at the house, water still dripping off his body. Harry and the girl were standing in the doorway; Harry looked confused, and the girl had a smirk full of irony and sarcasm. "Lovely woman, my mum," she told Harry. Shaking her head, she gave a snort derisive laughter.
End Notes: Well? Whatcha think? Praise? Flames? Comments? Suggestions? Any idea if this has been done before? Any idea why they call it a woodchuck if the stupid thing certainly doesn't chuck wood? REVIEW, AND E-MAIL ME!!!!