It was nearly three in the morning and yet he could still not sleep. Having stomped up the stairs and slammed his door almost six hours ago, it was a wonder he had not at least dozed off for a few moments. And yet, there he was, lying wide awake starring at the canvas of blankness that was the ceiling of his room. Returning from what seemed to have been a drearily mundane period of thought; Harry shifted his emerald eyes about his room once more, as if somewhere in its darkness he might find the answers he was so desperately searching for. With a sigh of frustration as he realized even his snowy owl Hedwig had fallen asleep, he rolled over onto his side, hoping that perhaps this shift of position would make his mind as tired as his body had become.
It had been months since the incident at the Ministry, and yet every night Harry found himself lying awake, pondering and searching in his mind for an answer he knew was not there. If he was lucky enough to catch a bit of sleep, it was always riddled with some memory of what had happened or, even more torturous perhaps, with some image his mind could conjure of some happy time, whether real or created, with his godfather. His correspondence with Hermione and Ron had dwindled about the topic; even though they were only words, Harry could see within the letters that his closest friends wrote him that they felt there was no possible way Harry could achieve what he so deeply desired. Harry remembered the last few letters from Hermione, saying she had scoured every possible book and record she could find and Ron as well, who said he had asked not only Mr. Weasley, but Charlie and Bill and anyone else he could think of who might have even a clue. Harry had even ventured to write to Dumbledore but he had not returned the letter, leaving Harry more then a little perturbed and yet, at the same time, disheartened. It seemed that the Headmaster was too busy to reply, for Harry had even tried coaxing him by writing letters of a different nature but nothing had worked. It seemed that Dumbledore, his master of so much wisdom, would not be there help him along this difficult path. And, although they had tried to pretend otherwise, Harry knew Ron and Hermione had little faith in the cause even before it began.
I guess I'm on my own with this one, Harry thought, I've got to figure it out myself.
But Harry knew it would not be as simple as combing the books in the library or simply asking around. No, the task he was undertaking was not that simple. If he wanted to bring Sirius back, he would have to do much more then that. There were secrets to be uncovered, dangers to be evaded, and obstacles to overcome. It would be indescribably difficult, not to mention risky, but he had to try, he just had to. Even now, the thought that there might be some way to bring his godfather back was consuming him, engulfing his every thought. He would do whatever it took, so long as he succeeded in the end, but the first step was getting back to Hogwarts, back to the wizarding world, where the answer to his question, more so his hope, lie.