Sixteen Candles - Chapter Two
I blinked, completely speechless as I took in my surroundings. On my right, facing me with a warm, radiant smile, was my mother – the same mother who had died fifteen years previous. I turned my head slightly, eyes locking on a man I never dreamt I'd see again. Messy black hair atop a smiling face, blue eyes meeting my gaze…
My father.
The sun, as low as it had been a the Weasleys, was weakly streaming though the panes of glass nearly ten feet long and eight feet high, facing out into the large garden in the back of the house. The light was streaming into the large, homey dinning room decorated with scarlet and silver streamers.
I looked back at my mother, hardly daring to believe she was standing right in front of me. Was I dreaming? I had to be – there was no other possible explanation for what was going on.
"Which piece would you like, Harry?" The throaty sound of my father's voice made me jump. I looked down at the bright red cake blankly, shrugging an answer as his question registered in my mind.
"The biggest it is!" he exclaimed, scooping up a large piece onto the navy plate set in front of me. I was too shocked to thank him; instead, I reached out tentatively and touched my father's arm gently, making sure he was solid.
He gazed at me curiously as I repeated the process with my Mum, who gave me a concerned look before speaking.
"Harry, darling, are you all right?"
Her green eyes, so like mine, seemed to examine my ever facial feature closely before she set one pale hand over my own.
"You didn't have another vision, did you?"
Vision? What the hell was going on?
I shook my head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds, attempting desperately to clear my head.
"No, I'm sorry, I just…"
My voice failed me once again as I tried to explain myself, edging away from both of their concerned stares.
"Here, have some cake," my father held up a silver fork and placed it in my right hand. "Eating always makes you feel better after those godforsaken things…"
"James!" Mum scolded gently, helping herself a slice of what I assumed to be strawberry or perhaps cherry cake while handing my father one as well. "Do you want to tell us about it?"
I shook my head once again, unable to believe the fact I was talking to my parents… Conversing with them as if they had always been alive.
"What… Why… how are you here?" I stuttered stupidly, eyes dancing back and forth between the two of them.
Both gave me a startled look, but in barely a moment's time they were both replaced with looks of understanding. My mum set her hand on my shoulder this time, a small smile showing off her white teeth.
"I know what's going on… Madame Pomfrey warned us about this."
She kneeled down to my level, eyes searching my own for something she seemed not able to find.
"Do you know who we are?"
I nodded carefully, "Of course, you're my parents. But…"
Mum and Dad waited for a response, but when it became apparent I wasn't going to produce one, Dad reached over and squeezed my hand.
"But what, Harry?"
I gulped, my eyes once again darting back and forth from Mum to Dad.
"But you're dead."
Before either of them had a chance to reply, a loud knocking sound came from a few rooms over. Mum glanced at me and then over to my father, excusing herself to answer the door. Silently, I wondered who it could possibly be before I remembered I probably didn't know the person – who was to say how much had gone on during those fifteen years between the time my parents were killed to now?
My question was answered, however, within ten seconds as a big, booming voice filled what I assumed to be the entrance hall, filtering into the dinning room, bidding Mum good evening.
It was Sirius.
I blinked, completely speechless as I took in my surroundings. On my right, facing me with a warm, radiant smile, was my mother – the same mother who had died fifteen years previous. I turned my head slightly, eyes locking on a man I never dreamt I'd see again. Messy black hair atop a smiling face, blue eyes meeting my gaze…
My father.
The sun, as low as it had been a the Weasleys, was weakly streaming though the panes of glass nearly ten feet long and eight feet high, facing out into the large garden in the back of the house. The light was streaming into the large, homey dinning room decorated with scarlet and silver streamers.
I looked back at my mother, hardly daring to believe she was standing right in front of me. Was I dreaming? I had to be – there was no other possible explanation for what was going on.
"Which piece would you like, Harry?" The throaty sound of my father's voice made me jump. I looked down at the bright red cake blankly, shrugging an answer as his question registered in my mind.
"The biggest it is!" he exclaimed, scooping up a large piece onto the navy plate set in front of me. I was too shocked to thank him; instead, I reached out tentatively and touched my father's arm gently, making sure he was solid.
He gazed at me curiously as I repeated the process with my Mum, who gave me a concerned look before speaking.
"Harry, darling, are you all right?"
Her green eyes, so like mine, seemed to examine my ever facial feature closely before she set one pale hand over my own.
"You didn't have another vision, did you?"
Vision? What the hell was going on?
I shook my head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds, attempting desperately to clear my head.
"No, I'm sorry, I just…"
My voice failed me once again as I tried to explain myself, edging away from both of their concerned stares.
"Here, have some cake," my father held up a silver fork and placed it in my right hand. "Eating always makes you feel better after those godforsaken things…"
"James!" Mum scolded gently, helping herself a slice of what I assumed to be strawberry or perhaps cherry cake while handing my father one as well. "Do you want to tell us about it?"
I shook my head once again, unable to believe the fact I was talking to my parents… Conversing with them as if they had always been alive.
"What… Why… how are you here?" I stuttered stupidly, eyes dancing back and forth between the two of them.
Both gave me a startled look, but in barely a moment's time they were both replaced with looks of understanding. My mum set her hand on my shoulder this time, a small smile showing off her white teeth.
"I know what's going on… Madame Pomfrey warned us about this."
She kneeled down to my level, eyes searching my own for something she seemed not able to find.
"Do you know who we are?"
I nodded carefully, "Of course, you're my parents. But…"
Mum and Dad waited for a response, but when it became apparent I wasn't going to produce one, Dad reached over and squeezed my hand.
"But what, Harry?"
I gulped, my eyes once again darting back and forth from Mum to Dad.
"But you're dead."
Before either of them had a chance to reply, a loud knocking sound came from a few rooms over. Mum glanced at me and then over to my father, excusing herself to answer the door. Silently, I wondered who it could possibly be before I remembered I probably didn't know the person – who was to say how much had gone on during those fifteen years between the time my parents were killed to now?
My question was answered, however, within ten seconds as a big, booming voice filled what I assumed to be the entrance hall, filtering into the dinning room, bidding Mum good evening.
It was Sirius.