As Harry and I both hit the ground my knees buckled with the force of impact, but Harry helped me stand. We had landed in Dumbledore's office. We both stayed silent. I wanted to turn to Harry. I wanted to tell him that I knew how much Sirius meant to him and that I was sorry. I wanted to tell him that Sirius would be proud of what he did down in the Department of Mysteries. I wanted to tell him that I loved him more than anything in the world.

I really knew I loved him now. I knew it the moment I thought Voldemort was going to kill him. I knew that if Harry died, that I died with him. I knew that I never wanted to be with any other boy again. I knew I would wait for him for the rest of my life. I knew that that I wasn't complete without him in my life.

But this wasn't the time, or place, to say any of that.

I slowly glanced over at Harry. A silent tear was falling down his cheek as he stared determinedly at the sleeping portrait of a past headmaster. He was deep in thought. I could only imagine what he was thinking. But then again, I already knew.

He was blaming himself for Sirius's death. He was saying how he should have listened to Hermione. He was thinking how if he had learned Occlumency then none of this would have happened. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was thinking that to. Why didn't Harry just learn Occlumency? Why did he have to be so proud? Why didn't he listen to Hermione?

Then a nasty voice popped into my head. Ah, but you didn't listen to Hermione either.

It was true. I had yelled at Hermione when she suggested that what Harry saw was a trick of Voldemort's. I had been just as eager to go save Sirius as Harry was. He was no more to blame than I was.

"Ah…Harry Potter…and my great-great-great granddaughter…."

I spun around to see a painting of an older man with a harsh face. Under the portrait was a name, Phineas Nigellus.

Harry had turned to face him to. His face showed a look of contempt as he stared at the smug expression of the man in the painting.

"What bring you here so early in the morning?" He asked in a wheezy voice. "Has Dumbledore sent you here? Or…" He chuckled, "is it another message from my worthless great-great-grandson."

It only took me a moment to do the math. I had never heard of this 'Phineas Nigellus' before but if I was his great-great-great granddaughter, and Harry was known to bring news of his great-great-grandson, it could only mean one thing…

Sirius

A few more portraits began to wake and Harry crossed the room to leave. He pulled at the doorknob only to realize that we were locked in. He turned to face the rest of the portraits, but did not look at me.

One portrait asked if Dumbledore would be returning and Harry nodded dully.

"Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I'm sure you know," one portrait of a fat older man said. "He holds you in great esteem."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and I caught his eye. I smiled weakly and said, "He has good reason."

The tender moment was ruined, however, by a blast of green flames from the fireplace. Harry and I both leapt away from the fireplace as Dumbledore came tumbling out. He stood up and brushed himself off. He walked toward the door where Harry was standing and pulled out a featherless, disgusting, baby bird, and placed it inside an ornate gold birdcage.

"Addie," He smiled weakly. "You have done enough for us tonight. As soon as you leave this room go straight to Madame Promfrey. All your friends are there, and I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear nobody will suffer any lasting damage from what happened tonight, though Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend some time at St.Mungo's."

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

I made my way to the door, which, had magically unlocked and shot one last look at Harry before closing the door behind me. There was nobody in the halls, which was to be expected at such an early hour of the morning. I quickly made my way to the Hospital Wing only to realize that I had injured my leg. In all the excitement I hadn't noticed the large tear in my right leg that was oozing blood. I limped up to see Madame Promfrey and as soon as I got there she had me lay down.

"Oh my dear!" She exclaimed rushing over to help me into a cot. "How did you get all the way here from the headmaster's office with a leg like that?"

I merely shrugged as she handed me a flask filled with a thick silver liquid.

"Drink this," She urged. "It will numb the pain."

"Thank you…" I murmured, sipping from the flask.

My leg was still throbbing painfully. I slipped my hand under the blankets to rub the wound, and almost instantly the pain melted away and I had a strange feeling that the wound was healing itself.

"There," She said taking the glass from me. "That's better isn't it? It's not really anything, just a claming potion to help you with your nerves…"

"But my cut just healed," I said quietly. "You must have given me something to make my cut heal."

Madam Pomfrey looked at me strangely, "No, no that was only a calming draught…"

"But then how—"

"Never you mind! Now why don't you try to get some rest, most of your friends fell right asleep, but if you require any Sleeping Draught I'll hurry down to Severus's office and get you some."

My friends? I quickly looked around me to se that all the cots to my left and right were filled. Neville was snoring lightly to my left with a thick, pink substance smeared over his bloated lip, and Hermione was to my right, her wounds bandaged, and her leg elevated.

I rested my head down on the soft, white pillow and murmured, "I can sleep on my own."

Madame Promfrey turned out the light and I listened to her footsteps as she walked out of the room. I wondered what Harry was doing with Dumbledore. What could the possibly be talking about? Were the speaking of Sirius's death?

No. I thought stubbornly. Dumbledore would have included me in a conversation like that.

They must have been talking about something else. Something more important than Sirius's death, though I couldn't imagine what. Whatever it was it involved only Harry and Dumbledore, but I was sure he would tell us all in the morning.

The thoughts that were buzzing through my brain were all deafened by my need to sleep, and before I knew it I had fallen into an uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.

xxx

I'm not sure for how long I was asleep, but when I awoke I saw Hermione sitting up on my right, and a little further down the row Ron was sitting with his legs draped over the side of his cot.

"Good Afternoon," She said cheerfully.

"Afternoon?" I asked drearily, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"Yep," Ron chuckled. "Don't worry, we only just woke up as well."

"Did Harry come by in the night?" I asked.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "No"

"Last I saw him he was in Dumbledore's office," I yawned. "I guess he just left from there."

"I don't reckon he wanted to see anyone after…" Ron looked at me nervously and trailed off.

"After Sirius dying?" I said quietly. "No…I guess not…"

"I'm so sorry Addie," Hermione said comfortingly. "I'm sorry you had to lose your dad."

"I didn't even know him," I murmured. "I'd only had one real conversation with him in my life."

"I'm sure he loved you," Hermione said. "You were his daughter."

I smiled a little. "Yeah…his daughter…"

"The Daily Prophet arrived this morning," Hermione said, hastily changing the subject. "I thought you might find it amusing."

'HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNES'

I skimmed the article. It didn't say anything I didn't know already except that Dumbledore had been reinstated as Headmaster, member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. It also mentioned Harry as 'the boy who lived' instead of 'the boy who made up crazy stories'.

"So I guess Harry's everyone's favorite super hero again.," I sighed, tossing the paper back over to Hermione.

"Yep," She laughed. "But I doubt he'll be as fond of them."

Over the course of the afternoon all of our friends woke up from their sleep. We made some forced conversation, but each of us had a lot on our minds. I just decided it was better not to talk about what had happened the night before. It was better not to talk about Sirius, or Voldemort, or Harry.

Harry finally came to visit us at around five o'clock that evening and we all huddled together to read him the article in the Daily Prophet. Ginny's ankle had been mended rather quickly had curled up at the foot of Hermione's bed. Neville's lips and nose had been restored to their usual size, and had pulled a chair between Ron and Hermione's beds. Luna didn't require a stay in the hospital but had dropped by with the latest Quibbler and was reading it upside-down.

We all flipped through the Daily Prophet, laughing at the hypocrisy of it all. None of us dared to venture into a real conversation about what had happened the night before. And for just one moment, even though the world was falling apart around us, we were just a group of friends having a good time.