Falling
by Elyndewen Startree
Sirius felt awful.
He felt confined.
Bored even.
As he sat in his ancestral home, he thought of how much he hated the place.
He thought about how much he hated its past residents.
He even thought about why he'd runaway.
Sirius sighed.
He had to think about something else, anything else.
So he thought about Harry.
Harry reminded him of James so much.
Molly was right.
Sometimes he did think that Harry was like James.
Exactly like him.
He leaned back in his chair in the cleaned drawing room.
He had liked those weeks before Hogwarts started up again.
Everyone around him.
People.
Lot's of people.
Kreacher was no help.
But it had been great, Harry and his friends here.
Remus had been there too.
And Hagrid.
And Molly and Arthur.
Moody and Tonks.
He smiled as he thought of Tonks.
The memory of "Nymphadora" always brought a smile to his face.
A short lived one, to be sure.
But a smile.
After 12 years in Azkaban, and as many months locked in this house, it was
almost
foreign.
Smiles.
There hadn't been smiles here since August.
When Harry arrived.
Harry.
He loved the boy like his own son.
Harry.
What could he be doing now?
Harry.
Why did Sirius have to think of him now?
Right when everyone was gone.
When he was feeling the loneliest he'd been feeling for months.
Sirius lay deep in thought, for how long, he didn't khnow.
He sat.
For hours and hours.
Suddenly, Albus was there.
"Why now, Albus? Surely, you have business elsewhere."
"Indeed no, Sirius. Harry needs your help."
"Harry needs help?! Where is he?! Get me there, Albus! Where is he?!
"In the Department of Mysteries, at the Ministry."
"I know where it is, so get me there!!"
Albus was faced with a dilemma.
He couldn't take Sirius, he just couldn't.
The price would be to high.
He could feel it.
Then he looked at Sirius.
The man had been couped up for months, on his orders.
Surely he owed him the rescue of his godson.
Pity overcame sense.
He nodded once.
They rushed away.
Sirius looked eagerly around the room.
Harry was somewhere, nearby, he could feel it.
But where?
Then he heard Harry's voice in the next room.
And he saw a boy fall.
It wasn't Harry, it just couldn't be.
But he couldn't be sure, confined as he was.
So he had to get out.
He had to disobey Dumbledore.
If he didn't, Harry might die.
And that couldn't happen.
The prophecy.
It couldn't come true.
Not yet.
Not like this.
No, not like this.
Sirius burst out of his hiding place.
Harry.
The fallen boy was standing again.
He wasn't Harry.
But Harry wasn't safe.
He was being attacked by a woman.
But who?
Sirius groweled in rage.
It was Bellatrix.
That scum.
That Voldemort supporting filth.
He couldn't attack her.
Awful, though she was.
She was still his cousin.
And that still mattered.
Until she kept on attacking Harry.
Family ties wouldn't help her now.
They wouldn't prevent him.
He dove forward.
Harry.
The boy couldn't be killed.
He was the only hope for the Muggles.
The only hope for the side of Good.
Sirius's only remaining link to James.
And he couldn't let her kill him.
Harry.
Harry.
Harry.
Suddenly, Sirius was falling.
Down, far down.
His side was a mass of pain.
Was Harry safe?
He had to be.
Sirius's own life didn't matter anymore.
Only Harry.
Harry had to stay alive.
Harry.
Harry.
And Sirius was falling.
Fallling.
Harry.
Sirius crashed to the floor.
Nothing could save him.
Harry.
He was gone.
I'd like to dedicate this to Sirius Black, who shouldn't have died. Also to
all those Harry Potter fans who miss him. We can miss him all we want. But
he won't come back. And we know that. Unfortunatley.
Why, J.K. Rowling?
Why?
by Elyndewen Startree
Sirius felt awful.
He felt confined.
Bored even.
As he sat in his ancestral home, he thought of how much he hated the place.
He thought about how much he hated its past residents.
He even thought about why he'd runaway.
Sirius sighed.
He had to think about something else, anything else.
So he thought about Harry.
Harry reminded him of James so much.
Molly was right.
Sometimes he did think that Harry was like James.
Exactly like him.
He leaned back in his chair in the cleaned drawing room.
He had liked those weeks before Hogwarts started up again.
Everyone around him.
People.
Lot's of people.
Kreacher was no help.
But it had been great, Harry and his friends here.
Remus had been there too.
And Hagrid.
And Molly and Arthur.
Moody and Tonks.
He smiled as he thought of Tonks.
The memory of "Nymphadora" always brought a smile to his face.
A short lived one, to be sure.
But a smile.
After 12 years in Azkaban, and as many months locked in this house, it was
almost
foreign.
Smiles.
There hadn't been smiles here since August.
When Harry arrived.
Harry.
He loved the boy like his own son.
Harry.
What could he be doing now?
Harry.
Why did Sirius have to think of him now?
Right when everyone was gone.
When he was feeling the loneliest he'd been feeling for months.
Sirius lay deep in thought, for how long, he didn't khnow.
He sat.
For hours and hours.
Suddenly, Albus was there.
"Why now, Albus? Surely, you have business elsewhere."
"Indeed no, Sirius. Harry needs your help."
"Harry needs help?! Where is he?! Get me there, Albus! Where is he?!
"In the Department of Mysteries, at the Ministry."
"I know where it is, so get me there!!"
Albus was faced with a dilemma.
He couldn't take Sirius, he just couldn't.
The price would be to high.
He could feel it.
Then he looked at Sirius.
The man had been couped up for months, on his orders.
Surely he owed him the rescue of his godson.
Pity overcame sense.
He nodded once.
They rushed away.
Sirius looked eagerly around the room.
Harry was somewhere, nearby, he could feel it.
But where?
Then he heard Harry's voice in the next room.
And he saw a boy fall.
It wasn't Harry, it just couldn't be.
But he couldn't be sure, confined as he was.
So he had to get out.
He had to disobey Dumbledore.
If he didn't, Harry might die.
And that couldn't happen.
The prophecy.
It couldn't come true.
Not yet.
Not like this.
No, not like this.
Sirius burst out of his hiding place.
Harry.
The fallen boy was standing again.
He wasn't Harry.
But Harry wasn't safe.
He was being attacked by a woman.
But who?
Sirius groweled in rage.
It was Bellatrix.
That scum.
That Voldemort supporting filth.
He couldn't attack her.
Awful, though she was.
She was still his cousin.
And that still mattered.
Until she kept on attacking Harry.
Family ties wouldn't help her now.
They wouldn't prevent him.
He dove forward.
Harry.
The boy couldn't be killed.
He was the only hope for the Muggles.
The only hope for the side of Good.
Sirius's only remaining link to James.
And he couldn't let her kill him.
Harry.
Harry.
Harry.
Suddenly, Sirius was falling.
Down, far down.
His side was a mass of pain.
Was Harry safe?
He had to be.
Sirius's own life didn't matter anymore.
Only Harry.
Harry had to stay alive.
Harry.
Harry.
And Sirius was falling.
Fallling.
Harry.
Sirius crashed to the floor.
Nothing could save him.
Harry.
He was gone.
I'd like to dedicate this to Sirius Black, who shouldn't have died. Also to
all those Harry Potter fans who miss him. We can miss him all we want. But
he won't come back. And we know that. Unfortunatley.
Why, J.K. Rowling?
Why?