(author's note: Madeline has been back home in England for around about a year. It's June of 1996. Again, I implore you, read "Sirius Black's Sanctuary." Okie dokie, let's get on with the story. We're almost at the end!)

"And though you're gone, you're with me every single day believe me."

From the song, "Days," by The Kinks

Chapter 29: The Death of a Friend

The faint light of the newly risen sun poked through the curtain in Madeline's room. She put her arm over her face with a small groan, then sensing a presence, she sat bolt upright and turned to see her brother sitting stock still, fully dressed,. including cloak and boots. He was leaning on his staff and looking at his hands. He slowly met her gaze. She got a queasy feeling in her stomach. She knew whatever it was, she wasn't going to like it. She had a strong urge to leap out of the window, but decided she'd rather face it, whatever it was.

Her own voice broke the silence. "Who's dead?"

He flinched ever so slightly and said in a hoarse whisper, "Sirius."

Time took a respectful pause as the name washed over her skin. She resisted so that it didn't sink in right away. Once it did, it hit her heart like a concussion and she felt dizzy. She turned away from Alastor to study the curtains. How could everything in the room be so still and quiet with all the commotion going on inside her? How dare the sun keep on rising?

Sirius Dead...the two words didn't match at all, like purple devotion. The two concepts were incongruous.

"No" was all she was able to utter, but to deny a truth wasn't the same as changing it. She covered her head in her blanket and rolled into a tight bundle and began to cry.

"Dear," Alastor began.

"No, go away," she commanded. He obeyed.

His face...She had read somewhere that sheep, common muggle sheep, could remember the faces of fifty other sheep for over two years. Why couldn't she call to mind Sirius's face when she had only just seen him two days ago? He had begged her to come the following day, which was yesterday, but she was too busy. "Too busy." She didn't know it at the time, but those words had hung over her head from a thin piece of string. The string had snapped at some point last night without her even knowing it. Wham! Who will it be next time?

Later, when she emerged from her room she felt like an empty cocoon- hollow and dry and willing to hear the whole tale of the death of Sirius Black.