Disclaimer: All the characters used in this story are the sole property of J.K Rowling (and some other big company whose name I do not remember. Sorry, no insults intended, just my bad memory). They are not mine. I take credit for the characters' actions and thoughts in this story, though (often used as they are).
A/N: Sirius, In Memoriam (another one)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Implications of Sirius/ Remus, but nothing concrete
Warnings: implied slash (homosexual relationship), angst, dark Harry
Feedback: Will be saved into a special folder on my harddrive and taken into consideration.
Burning DayHarry was Muggle enough to think of knives – and find out that the Blacks' were Wizards enough not to think of them. The strongest spells could not harm Mrs. Black's portrait, but the knife Harry found in the kitchen cut through the canvas just fine. It was lucky there was no-one except for Harry and Remus at Grimmauld Place No.12 at the time, otherwise they would have certainly come running at Mrs. Black's shrieks and probably made Harry stop.
Remus appeared from his room about twenty-six seconds into the action and – after giving Harry some advice how to get a better grip on the knife – stood and watched with a grim smile.
When the other Order members appeared later into the evening to their regular once-a-week scheduled meeting there was no Mrs. Black to greet them. Just an empty frame and still-warm ashes in the Library fireplace. Nobody said a thing.
On the 4th of August they held a Memorial Service for Sirius. There was no body and thus no grave, but it was decided a conclusion of some sort was needed. Well, actually, on a quickly assembled meeting of the older Order members it was decided Harry needed some sort of conclusion. And Remus, not to forget Remus.
It was Remus who suggested the date, saying Sirius had liked it. He gave no information as to why despite Hermione's repeated questions.
Molly looked at Remus pityingly when she thought he did not notice. Remus noticed and glared back at her quite openly.
The Service was held in the Library. They each wrote a letter to Sirius and then burnt them in the fireplace together.
Harry looked into the fire and remembered the one that had burnt there some days earlier, accompanied by Mrs. Black's screams. He decided not to bother with attempting Crucio again, Incendio looked so much more promising. And it was not an Unforgivable.
The fire danced and Harry wondered how many of them had really written a letter. A note. Anything at all. How many of those burning envelopes contained, like Harry's, a piece of clean white parchment.
The End.
