Sirius Black sat in his room. He had just received a letter from one of his best friends, James Potter. He and James had kept up the routine of writing to each other nearly once a day, throughout the summer, well at least the days when Sirius couldn't sneak out.
He could hear Kreacher muttering to himself outside Sirius's bedroom door. Sirius removed his shoe and threw it at the door, hoping to get rid of the vile house-elf. The muttering subsided after a few swears, and soon Sirius was left hearing nothing but the sounds of James' owl hooting in the far corner.
He tore open the envelope, eager to see what his friend was up to. It read:
August 31st , 1974
Sirius, my dear fellow,
How is life treating you? Well since yesterday, anyway. I've been fine, you know the usual – being awesome and whatnot.
I wrote to Evans again yesterday. Needless to say you know what I asked her. I am still awaiting my reply, but am hopeful that this time she will consider my question genuinely. Hopefully she's not spending too much time with that greasy-haired git Snivellous, wouldn't want him to contaminate her.
Pity you can't come today. It would've been fun – the Marauders scutching Diagon Alley. Remus can't come either, his mum is making him visit his grandmother, awful woman she is. So it'll just be Pete and I. But there's always Hogsmeade, and if Evans turns me down (again) all of my time will be spent in Zonko's, with my three best mates (We are not going to The Threee Broomsticks, just to see you gawk at Madame Rosmerta all day).
Haven't heard much from Remus this past week, have you? I'm starting to get a bit worried about him. The full moons must be really rough. We need to find a way to help him, don't you agree? He can't keep going like this forever. Transforming in the Shrieking Shack may be safe for everyone else, but it's doing him no favours.
You need any books? I know you said Kreacher bought them, but if you want to check in case he left a few out on purpose, I can get them for you.
I have to go now, so unfortunately you won't hear anything from me until tomorrow. Write back, I want to hear what you have to say about the whole Remus thing.
Yours,
James Potter
P.S. I've just realised how weird that looks. I am not yours.
Sirius laughed at his friend's letter. James could really be full of himself sometimes, but he did seem worried about Remus. Sirius was too. Being a fourteen year-old werewolf can't be easy.
He fished some parchment from his drawer and opened a new pot of ink. He had his quill poised over the parchment, ready to reply, when a noise that sounded like soft wind whooshed around the room. It blew James' letter and Sirius's reply onto the floor, as Sirius almost fell off his chair in astonishment.
He clasped his wand in his hand, readying himself for any attack that might come upon him. But no. All he saw was a boy and a girl. The girl holding an old guitar above her head and a boy asking her to stop, though the amusement was clear in his eyes. They seem to be arguing, Sirius thought. She was shouting something at him, clad in nothing but a nightgown and he in some pyjama bottoms.