A/N~ I'm having writer's block from lack of ideas. I've been attempting to write this since... oh... literally, a month ago.
Anyway, enjoy the fic.
~(A Tale Of Lost Things)~
A man stands, staring at a broken shell of a house, his stormy grey eyes as deep as the ocean, his pitch black hair tied back with a bit of string. He hadn't seen the house in thirteen years... he still didn't want to see it.
In the remains of the house, one might find a wand or two- belonging to the young man and woman who died there... Clothing that once belonged to a small boy, who was now a teenager, almost fourteen... letters from an old friend...
The man picked his way through the rubble, his eyes searching for something, his hands buried deep inside his pockets.
There was a sharp cracking sound and the man looked up.
His dark grey eyes were met by a pair of vibrant green.
"What are you looking for, Sirius? You won't find anything... I looked for them, years ago, but there's nothing to be found."
The black haired man removed his hands from his pockets, blowing into his cupped hands. He looked at the source of the voice, the owner of the vibrant green eyes, a slender man with messy blond hair.
"...I doubt anyone knew they existed, other than you, James, and I," the blond haired man continued, his voice carrying easily from the street to the remains of the house.
The only response was a sigh from the black haired man, who continued to look through the rubble. The blond haired man made his way to the black haired man's side, sighing also.
~(A Tale Of Lost Things)~
"Sirius, why are you hiding in the mountains...? You're always welcome in my house, you know..." the blond man spoke softly, sitting delicately on a large stone, his emerald green eyes locked on the still form of the black haired man.
"The minister- both of them, actually -are around your house so often that I would be caught and sent back to Azkaban before you could say 'Quidditch'..." the black haired man responded, stretching out on the floor of the cave.
"I could turn them away..." the blond man murmured.
"That would seem suspicious," the black haired man replied.
A soft sigh, "You're right... they would think something was up and probably force their way in, bringing the bobbies and the aurors with them."
They sat quietly for a moment, neither of the men wanting to break the silence. An odd half screech half hoot was heard and a large white owl flew into the cave, landing on a small rock near the black haired man.
"Hedwig," he said, reaching out and petting the owl, who nipped at his hand affectionately.
"That owl belongs to your godson... a letter?" The blond man asked, raising one dark eyebrow.
"Yes," the black haired man smiled, taking the letter from the owl and unfolding it.
~(A Tale Of Lost Things)~
Dear Sirius,
I miss you so much... I wish I could go to Grimmauld place and see you, but I'm a liability; the ministry has been watching my every move since the triwizard tournament.
Meetings are boring, but I'm glad I was able to send this letter to you while the others were distracted.
It seems that I'm the only one directly connected to wizarding society... what a pity.
I'll see if I can shake the ministry and visit you...
If not, then, well, I'll see you when I can.
Forever Yours,
Arthur Kirkland
~(A Tale Of Lost Things)~
A man stands, motionless, his emerald eyes gleaming in the near darkness, his gaze locked on an archway with a veil in the centre. His wheat coloured hair hangs in his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks, a black trench-coat clutched in his hands. He stares straight ahead, not even responding when a hand touches his shoulder.
"Arthur," a voice says, calm but not monotonous.
The blond man looks up, seeing a tall man with a long white beard and half moon spectacles, electric blue eyes shining behind the lenses.
The blond man stares at the tall man for a moment, stands up and rubs his eyes, still hugging the trench-coat, and walks away.
~(A Tale Of Lost Things)~
A man stands, staring at a broken shell of a house, his emerald eyes as dark as death, burning with grief, his wheat blond hair spiking in all directions, hanging directly in front of his eyes. He hadn't seen the house in sixteen years... he still didn't want to see it.
In the remains of the house, one might find a wand or two- belonging to the young man and woman who died there... Clothing that once belonged to a small boy, who was now a man, almost thirty two... letters from an old friend, who was dead as well...
The man picked through the rubble, his green eyes searching for what had not been found, all those years ago.
In this house, there was so much tragedy... so many secrets... just like another house far away. In this house, a husband and wife died, breaking two hearts in passing. In this house, a boy lost his parents, doomed to years of abuse for what he was. In this house, a dark wizard failed to kill an infant, ending a war. In this house... a prophesy came true.
In this house, there was nothing but loss, and yet...
...there was hope, here.
An odd sound startles the man out of his musing, the man looks up. A small child with wavy black hair is watching the man.
Dark emerald eyes are met by shining grey orbs.
The man sighs and smiles a bit, approaching the grey eyed child and picking him up.
"'Beyond the veil is a world unlike anything we could dream of'... going through the veil... you really were a smart little berk..." the man says to the child, taking a few papers from the ground and leaving the house.
The child yawns, exposing his little pink tongue, and the man sighs softly.
"London... let's get you home, poppet..."
A sharp crack is heard, and the pair are gone, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of wind through the quiet square.
As if they had never been there in the first place.