The Reward of the Phoenix

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and themes are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I am making no money from this story. All I am getting is a cramped hand from writing and typing.


Chapter 8

Sirius looked up wearily as Remus walked back into the room, carrying a tray with some food on it before him. The two friends shared a brief smile as the werewolf sad on a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Between him and Sirius, the unconscious body of their oldest friend lay sprawled on the bed. During the night he'd woken briefly, but he was dazed and disorientated. He had screamed endlessly, shouting for his wife and son until his voice was hoarse and his face wet with tears.

Remus and Sirius had sat with him wiping the tears from his face with a wet cloth and cooling the fever which sprung up around midnight. They forced him to drink and watched as he slept. It had become a nightmare – they had him alive, right in front of them, only for him to be slowly slipping away.

"Remus," Sirius whispered, "Do you think he's really here? Is this really James, lying here?"

"I don't know, Sirius," Remus replied just as quietly. "I don't know how he got here, but I am hoping, praying to whoever out there is listening that this isn't just some rotten trick, a terrible dream."

There conversation was disrupted as James groaned from the bed. He drew their attention as he muttered in his sleep.

"Padfoot… Sirius… Why Peter?... Moony… sorry…"