The Turn Of Time
Harry wiped his forehead. The black clothes he was wearing sticking to him in the heat, particularly the heavy and dark woollen trousers he was wearing. He shifted inside the clothes that showed the stiffness of newly bought garments. The sun beat down hard upon the dry earth and those standing outside on the sunny July afternoon. Remus Lupin, standing behind Harry, wiped his eyes openly, as he wept at the words of Dumbledore as he finished the memorial for his childhood friend and Harry's godfather. As the only true marauder left, Remus Lupin felt like the last of a kind. His unique - affliction, doubling his anguish. What right had he to live longer than they had? He felt Sirius' parting like a stab in the heart, and a reminder of James' parting more so. His misery was reflected on every face there. Many of the Order had collected for the service, as well as a gathering of bright red heads; the only really bright colour among them. Tonks had even turned her hair black out of remorse and respect, while Moody's magical eye was stationary in a most disturbingly unusual manner. His week at the Dursleys had passed in a daze, though he did notice, and thank, the change in their attitude towards him. It would not do to say they were kind, but they were far less harsh than they had ever been before; all due to the talk that they had had at the end of the school year. He had, only the night previously, moved from the Dursleys house to the Burrow. There he discovered the clothes that Mrs. Weasley had bought for him from his account and drove, using ministry cars, to the station. From there, they took the Hogwarts train on platform 9 ¾ to Hogsmeade. Most of the trip he did not remember, but at the sight of several Thestrals standing next to him infront of a handful of coaches he woke from is daze enough to remember exiting them and walking to the site where they stood now. Hogwarts. One of the places that Sirius had felt was home. There was no burial, as they had no body, nor a cremation. Instead, they held a wizard's funeral, for the essence of his spirit, and for those left behind to say their farewells. Ever since waking that morning, Harry had spoken not a word, but then, hardly anyone else had been speaking much either. That night, some of them would be staying in Hogwarts, while others; many of the Order, would be making their own way home later in the evening. As the silence stretched, but for the sound of quiet tears, shuffling and sneezes from Mungdungus, who had caught a cold while sitting out in the rain, drinking to the memory of Sirius (not that he had needed much cause to drink) clouds started creeping in at an alarming and unnoticed rate. Seeming suddenly to those standing outside, large raindrops started to fall on the parched ground. In a mere matter of minutes, the ground was a fitting resemblance to the marsh that Fren'n'George had left in the East Wing in Gregory Smarmy's corridor. But before it had reached that level, when the first rain drops started to fall, people started to come out of the personal reverie. Dumbledore, raising his wand above his head, muttered a shielding charm against the rain. Professor McGonagall started ushering everyone inside, pointing with the crutch she still had by her side. She did not need it as much any more, and she was healing well. In the cover of the Entrance Hall, many people started to murmur, moving into the Great Hall where the house elves had laid out finger foods for those hungry. Many gravitated towards the table, still murmuring to one another, but Harry, upon the sight of the food, felt his stomach turning over. Hurrying out of the room, before it protested in a more visible fashion, Harry turned to hurry up the stairs to the first floor, which was blissfully quiet. Harry was feeling sick. His head pounded, his heart was gaping and torn, and his stomach was playing a whole quidditch match inside of him. Deciding to turn in for the night, he headed up to his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. But upon his way he saw Remus hurrying along the corridor infront of him. About to call out to Remus, he turned the corner. Running after him, Harry saw him heading to Dumbledore's office. "Prof- Remus!" Remus stopped, and turned slowly. "Harry" his eyes flickered back towards the gargoyle that had sprung aside a moment earlier with the password 'Sugar Quills' "You shouldn't be here. Go back downstairs. Eat something, I know you haven't eaten all day. You need your strength." "I'm not hungry," Harry returned quickly, and truthfully. He hadn't felt like eating much recently, ever since he had left the train station he had gone into a deject depression, hardly eating anything at all. "Harry, you need to take care of yourself, Sirius wouldn't have wanted you to waste away, especially at the thought of him," Remus was hardly fearing better. His skin was sallow and pail, his hair hanging limp and his face was thinner since the last Harry had seen of him. But Harry himself had grown even thinner, as the protruding ribs beneath his shirt proclaimed. Harry looked away from Remus, avoiding his eyes. "I know," his voice a whisper, almost inaudible. "Remus, so do you. You need to take care of yourself as much as I do. I know your spending your time in Grimmauld Place, or on a mission. Your going there tonight." It wasn't a question. Remus recognised that. It was then his turn to avoid Harry's eyes. "Yes," he spoke to the floor. "I'm coming with you" Remus jerked his head up, but quickly looked away when he met Harry's eyes. He did not bother with fruitless attempts of protests. He simply nodded dimly, and finally walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. The silver ornaments were tinkling quietly on the tables, and there were noticeably fewer of them then when Harry had walked into the office. Upon closer inspection, the ornaments missing seemed to be the ones that happened to have broken in the meeting between Harry and Dumbledore at the end of the school term. Passing these, and ignoring the loud snoring in the paintings around the room, Remus strode over to the large fireplace, and threw in a rather large pinch of Floo powder. "You first Harry." His voice was quiet, subdued almost. Harry stepped forward up to the fireplace. Here it was - he could go anywhere he wanted. Anywhere connected to the Floo network that is. But then - that was pretty much everywhere, or in walking distance of it at any rate. Stepping forward, he entered the fireplace, and spoke, clearly articulating the words before tucking in his elbows. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place" the fireplaces whizzing past him started to upset his stomach again in the second he had not shut his eyes. Fighting to not upheave his stomach, Harry fell out of the fireplace and onto the floor with a thump, unable to cushion his fall with his hands. A large squawk of outrage met his ears and he looked up just in time to see Kreacher scurrying out of the room. With an angry bellow, Harry raced out after him into the hall. He saw the animal babbling crazily to the painting of Sirius' mother. At that moment she looked up, and seeing him, pointed her finger at him and started to shriek out insults, and commands at Kreacher to remove the 'abomination' daring to soil her house with its presence. Happy to oblige, Kreacher scampered forward. At that moment, a red light shot from over Harry's shoulder and hit the house elf, leaving him lying immobile on the ground. Remus walked forward and, ignoring the screaming portrait, walked up the stairs, leaving Harry with a Stunned house elf and a Dark abhorrent portrait in the entrance hall of the house of his late godfather.
Harry wiped his forehead. The black clothes he was wearing sticking to him in the heat, particularly the heavy and dark woollen trousers he was wearing. He shifted inside the clothes that showed the stiffness of newly bought garments. The sun beat down hard upon the dry earth and those standing outside on the sunny July afternoon. Remus Lupin, standing behind Harry, wiped his eyes openly, as he wept at the words of Dumbledore as he finished the memorial for his childhood friend and Harry's godfather. As the only true marauder left, Remus Lupin felt like the last of a kind. His unique - affliction, doubling his anguish. What right had he to live longer than they had? He felt Sirius' parting like a stab in the heart, and a reminder of James' parting more so. His misery was reflected on every face there. Many of the Order had collected for the service, as well as a gathering of bright red heads; the only really bright colour among them. Tonks had even turned her hair black out of remorse and respect, while Moody's magical eye was stationary in a most disturbingly unusual manner. His week at the Dursleys had passed in a daze, though he did notice, and thank, the change in their attitude towards him. It would not do to say they were kind, but they were far less harsh than they had ever been before; all due to the talk that they had had at the end of the school year. He had, only the night previously, moved from the Dursleys house to the Burrow. There he discovered the clothes that Mrs. Weasley had bought for him from his account and drove, using ministry cars, to the station. From there, they took the Hogwarts train on platform 9 ¾ to Hogsmeade. Most of the trip he did not remember, but at the sight of several Thestrals standing next to him infront of a handful of coaches he woke from is daze enough to remember exiting them and walking to the site where they stood now. Hogwarts. One of the places that Sirius had felt was home. There was no burial, as they had no body, nor a cremation. Instead, they held a wizard's funeral, for the essence of his spirit, and for those left behind to say their farewells. Ever since waking that morning, Harry had spoken not a word, but then, hardly anyone else had been speaking much either. That night, some of them would be staying in Hogwarts, while others; many of the Order, would be making their own way home later in the evening. As the silence stretched, but for the sound of quiet tears, shuffling and sneezes from Mungdungus, who had caught a cold while sitting out in the rain, drinking to the memory of Sirius (not that he had needed much cause to drink) clouds started creeping in at an alarming and unnoticed rate. Seeming suddenly to those standing outside, large raindrops started to fall on the parched ground. In a mere matter of minutes, the ground was a fitting resemblance to the marsh that Fren'n'George had left in the East Wing in Gregory Smarmy's corridor. But before it had reached that level, when the first rain drops started to fall, people started to come out of the personal reverie. Dumbledore, raising his wand above his head, muttered a shielding charm against the rain. Professor McGonagall started ushering everyone inside, pointing with the crutch she still had by her side. She did not need it as much any more, and she was healing well. In the cover of the Entrance Hall, many people started to murmur, moving into the Great Hall where the house elves had laid out finger foods for those hungry. Many gravitated towards the table, still murmuring to one another, but Harry, upon the sight of the food, felt his stomach turning over. Hurrying out of the room, before it protested in a more visible fashion, Harry turned to hurry up the stairs to the first floor, which was blissfully quiet. Harry was feeling sick. His head pounded, his heart was gaping and torn, and his stomach was playing a whole quidditch match inside of him. Deciding to turn in for the night, he headed up to his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. But upon his way he saw Remus hurrying along the corridor infront of him. About to call out to Remus, he turned the corner. Running after him, Harry saw him heading to Dumbledore's office. "Prof- Remus!" Remus stopped, and turned slowly. "Harry" his eyes flickered back towards the gargoyle that had sprung aside a moment earlier with the password 'Sugar Quills' "You shouldn't be here. Go back downstairs. Eat something, I know you haven't eaten all day. You need your strength." "I'm not hungry," Harry returned quickly, and truthfully. He hadn't felt like eating much recently, ever since he had left the train station he had gone into a deject depression, hardly eating anything at all. "Harry, you need to take care of yourself, Sirius wouldn't have wanted you to waste away, especially at the thought of him," Remus was hardly fearing better. His skin was sallow and pail, his hair hanging limp and his face was thinner since the last Harry had seen of him. But Harry himself had grown even thinner, as the protruding ribs beneath his shirt proclaimed. Harry looked away from Remus, avoiding his eyes. "I know," his voice a whisper, almost inaudible. "Remus, so do you. You need to take care of yourself as much as I do. I know your spending your time in Grimmauld Place, or on a mission. Your going there tonight." It wasn't a question. Remus recognised that. It was then his turn to avoid Harry's eyes. "Yes," he spoke to the floor. "I'm coming with you" Remus jerked his head up, but quickly looked away when he met Harry's eyes. He did not bother with fruitless attempts of protests. He simply nodded dimly, and finally walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. The silver ornaments were tinkling quietly on the tables, and there were noticeably fewer of them then when Harry had walked into the office. Upon closer inspection, the ornaments missing seemed to be the ones that happened to have broken in the meeting between Harry and Dumbledore at the end of the school term. Passing these, and ignoring the loud snoring in the paintings around the room, Remus strode over to the large fireplace, and threw in a rather large pinch of Floo powder. "You first Harry." His voice was quiet, subdued almost. Harry stepped forward up to the fireplace. Here it was - he could go anywhere he wanted. Anywhere connected to the Floo network that is. But then - that was pretty much everywhere, or in walking distance of it at any rate. Stepping forward, he entered the fireplace, and spoke, clearly articulating the words before tucking in his elbows. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place" the fireplaces whizzing past him started to upset his stomach again in the second he had not shut his eyes. Fighting to not upheave his stomach, Harry fell out of the fireplace and onto the floor with a thump, unable to cushion his fall with his hands. A large squawk of outrage met his ears and he looked up just in time to see Kreacher scurrying out of the room. With an angry bellow, Harry raced out after him into the hall. He saw the animal babbling crazily to the painting of Sirius' mother. At that moment she looked up, and seeing him, pointed her finger at him and started to shriek out insults, and commands at Kreacher to remove the 'abomination' daring to soil her house with its presence. Happy to oblige, Kreacher scampered forward. At that moment, a red light shot from over Harry's shoulder and hit the house elf, leaving him lying immobile on the ground. Remus walked forward and, ignoring the screaming portrait, walked up the stairs, leaving Harry with a Stunned house elf and a Dark abhorrent portrait in the entrance hall of the house of his late godfather.