Book One: The Sorcerer's Stone

I was about eight years old at the time I had lost my father. He wasn't dead, but he was as well off as it. He had been taken to Azkaban, the prison for the most fearsome, cruel, and merciless wizards of all time. My father did not belong there. He was a kind, forgiving, strong man. Nowhere near worthy of the horrible trials Azkaban had to offer. My father was no murderer.

Since the time my father had been put into Azkaban, I had been living with the Weasley family, a very close group of red-heads. I had known all of them since birth, pretty much, due to the fact we lived within feet of each other. The kids were named Ginny, Ronald, Fred and George, Percy, Bill, and Charlie. These people were as much of a family i could ask for. They took me under their wing when my father was gone, and I'm very grateful for that.

About a year or so ago, I was brought into another home, the home of my favorite Auntie Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks, if you want to be boring. Another kind woman who I am very thankful for entering my life. She has been taking care of me ever since, and says she will, until my father's name is cleared.

And, from that point on, I wanted to have my name cleared as well, by association. Ella Piper Black.