Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-five - of reconciliation
Sirius sat uneasily on the thick carpet, leaning against the four poster as he stared up at the vermilion drapery. After over five years of sleeping on boards, a week of using leaves and grass for insulation, and another of sleeping in chairs, he suddenly found a bed uncomfortable. No, it was the large and richly room that made him uncomfortable. It felt so much like a prison, simply redecorated.
Sirius rubbed his eyes harshly, willing them to stay open. He wasn't at ease without the child in sight. He hadn't seen Harry since Remus portkeyed away with him four hours ago, and since then, not one person had stepped into his secluded room. The image of Harry lying alone in the infirmary was plaguing him past the point of endurance; the shy little boy must be frightened half to death, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. Sirius chewed his lip worriedly, increasingly anxious. He didn't have the invisibility cloak; that was folded neatly on Dumbledore's desk. He had finally grown so desperate that he attempted prying open the door, subtly be damned, but the seal that kept intruders out seemed to have locked him in. He had tried everything since, pounding on the walls for hidden passages, scrounging the room for floo powder, then finally prying at the picture frame.
He was starting to feel claustrophobic.
He was beginning to worry that the entire thing was a trap to turn him over to the ministry, but logic spoke against that. Remus believed him. Dumbledore and McGonagall did as well. Sirius had a vague idea why they were trying so hard to keep his position a secret, but he was still indignant.
The ministry wouldn't readily accept his innocence, especially with only Sirius' story as proof. The bits and pieces he picked from the discarded notes and papers left lying on the table was enough so show just how incompetent the Minister of Magic was. Fudge was a selfish fool would do anything to salvage his reputation, including flinging him back into prison or executing him with the dementor's kiss, as long as they kept his escape a secret. The chance of him openly pardoning him was equivalent to Sirius miraculously running across Pettigrew. But Sirius didn't care about freedom as long as he could have his godson back. Sirius inwardly sighed, rubbing his eyes. The sun had risen hours ago, and he still hadn't slept. He couldn't remember a time he actually slept through the night for the past week. His body was screaming for rest, but he fought it. If Remus or Dumbledore came to bring news on Harry, he had to be awake to hear it.
The door cracked open with a soft creak.
Sirius scrambled to his feet eagerly, ears attuned to any noise.
"Sirius?" his name was spoken in a cautious whisper.
The heavy picture frame opened further, falling into the room with a shaft of morning sunlight. A lanky form peeked out from behind it, grey eyes scanning the room before falling at the dark corner. The man paused, a brief look of uncertainty passing over his gaunt face.
"Remus," Sirius greeted slowly.
And for several minutes, the two friends just stared at each other.
Slowly, Remus stepped into the red and gold room, the door fusing into the wall behind him. Sirius stilled nervously. He was never uneasy before, but that was always in the company of another. Meeting his friend of nine years, with five years of misunderstandings in between, he was unexpectedly agitated.
He hadn't noticed how much Remus had changed since the past five years. The robes he wore were patched and frayed; it must have been hard for him to find employment. His face was worn as if he hadn't slept well for weeks. But knowing the situation, that was probably the truth. The glossy brown hair he had during school had thinned out, and looking ready to grey. But his eyes seemed younger than before.
Sirius wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. He knew he needed to apologize for the mistake he made and for the misjudgment he made that cost him for than anything he could imagine. Tell him how relieved he was when Remus believed him, how happy. But seeing the same guilt mirror in his friend's grey eyes made the words clog in his throat.
Oddly, it was Remus who spoke first. He made his way to a stray chair, but hesitated to sit, resting his hands over the surface lightly.
"Harry gave McGonagall quite a shock after she stunned you," Remus murmured, trying to keep his tone light. It was a simple statement that shattered some of the tension between them.
That caught Sirius' attention immediately. "He did? What did he do?"
"He… he didn't take it very well. He was very upset, very worried," Remus said awkwardly, beginning to regret bringing up the topic. He was just starting to understand the depth of their bond, ever since he saw the attachment Harry had to his godfather. Sirius cared for the six year old far more than himself, but it was guilt that tied him. If he realized the extent that Harry went to keep the only family he knew safe, Sirius would probably drown himself in another wave of guilt.
Sirius seemed to understand some of his unspoken words, however. He averted his gaze, a shadow of regret and sadness passing over his face. "Harry must have been terrified."
"Harry's alright," Remus said quickly, forcing a small smile for reassurance. "He's resting in the infirmary right now."
"You shouldn't leave him alone. If he wakes up, he'll be really confused and frightened," Sirius' words came in a rush, and he stood as if he was preparing to barge into the infirmary.
Sirius still hadn't changed despite the years with dementors. Remus shook his head slightly, grinning in amusement. "Harry's been given the sleeping potion, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's probably too exhausted to wake up within the next eight hours. She's rather territorial, wouldn't let me stay with him for more than half an hour."
But Sirius missed the lighthearted words altogether. "How is Harry? Is he going to be okay?" Sirius asked worriedly.
"Harry's fine. Madam Pomfrey healed most of the damage, but the blood loss and bruises would have to heal by themselves." Remus' expression darkened as he recalled the memory. "The Dursleys… they went too far."
Sirius swallowed an enraged snarl at the mention of Harry's relatives. Scores of murderous passed his mind, but he could find no coherent words to express it.
"Harry's very fond of you," Remus said suddenly, eager to change the subject. "I've only seen him for a few days before the… incident and he was always very silent, very shy."
"He is. He used to be so afraid of me," Sirius softly murmured, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed. "He used to flinch every time I came near, wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat."
"That seems so hard to believe," Remus whispered, thoughtfully. He watched his friend sympathetically when Sirius fell silent again. "Harry really trusts you. You did a good job taking care of him, Sirius. Even Madam Pomfrey admitted it."
Sirius only managed a shaky smile, making no attempt to reply. Without Harry to anchor them, both lost in their own thoughts of the past. After five years of separation, it was as if a thick wall was built between them, and they lost the closely knit understanding of their friendship. To tear it away was difficult; they had changed so much.
"Thank you for believing me," Sirius slowly said. It was rather uncharacteristic for him to be so formal, but it would have been uncharacteristic for him to be ambiguous.
Remus tensed at the abrupt change of topic, his gray eyes darkening and his lips thinning into a line.
"I should have known it wasn't you," Remus whispered, leaning against the back of the chair wearily. "I'm sorry I believed everyone else."
Sirius frowned bitterly. "I shouldn't have suspected you in the first place. Moony, did you know I thought you were the spy?"
"The thought crossed my mind last night. But it doesn't matter anymore," Remus waved it off lightly, tone determinedly resolute. "We both made mistakes. Lets just be relieved that they were corrected."
Harry was very uneasy when he struggled through the thick haze of sleep. The blankets, however warm and thick they were, carried to sense of comfort and reassurance. It was as if he was back in the cupboard, only with sheets this time. Days ago, he would have shuddered if anyone touched him. But now, Harry found himself terrified at the prospect of being alone.
He blined, a bit bewildered by the unfamilar, whitewashed wall staring back at him. The ceiling was unfamiliar from the low tan of the hotel room, far larger and far more intimidating. The room was deafeningly quiet, so quiet that Harry was sure he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.
That was when he realized something was different.
Harry sat up, scarcely aware of the bleached sheets that covered him, and the cotton shirt that hung on him like a blanket. There was no ranking flash of pain through his ribs; no throb in his wrist. It didn't even hurt breathing. Confused, Harry pulled back his sleeve. The splotches of blue and purple were still imprinted in his skin, but it stung only mildly.
What...?
The memory of the past day dropped like stones in his mind. Harry drew a sharp breath, tensing fearfully. The last image that lingered in his mind was the old man asking questions about his dream, the fear of the wolf person taking him away. Remus was in the room, under a silvery thing that faded and reappeared like a flimsy half ghost. He called a thin lady that reminded him disturbingly of Aunt Petunia, and everything slid into murkiness from there. Harry shuddered as the loud shrieks and accusations replayed themselves in his mind.
Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone! He was the only person who ever sat at his bedside patiently, and treated him with a fatherly affection. He was the only person never yelled at him, screamed at him, or hit him. And now he was gone!
He hadn't realized how attached he became to his godfather until Sirius was gone. It was strange without the blurry shadow of the man at his bedside. If was as if the warm comfort that reassured him for the past two weeks was suddenly gone, and Harry was lost. His godfather was the only person he was at ease around. And they took him away! He was innocent, he didn't do anything. Harry's hand trembled, a dampness stinging his eyes. It was unfair, Sirius never deserved it…
He lingered on the bed listlessly, holding his breath to choke back the prickling in his throat. Years of neglect had taught him to be silent, and without his godfather to block them, thvose fears drowned him in waves. He clenched the blankets so tightly that his hands shook, drawing his knees against his chest defensively. After some minutes of deafening silence, shakily sat up.
He was going to find Sirius even if it took him hours.
Harry crawled off the bed clumsily, too short to reach the floor without a jump. His legs shook violently under the weight, but it was the first time the week since he could stand without aid. Using the wall was a guide, he slowly made his way to the door.
By the time Harry reached passed the heavy oak frame, he was coughing and gasping for air. His legs were shaking so violently that he had to lean against the door knob to keep from falling, and the room swayed in his vision. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself past the door, stumbling into a medieval hall that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Harry sank against the stone wall at the impossible impediment.
Harry slumped to the floor, gripping his bruised leg with a grimace. Although the cast was removed and the bone healed, it still stung bitingly. Harry drew several calming breaths, wiping at the sweat that trickled down his face. The thought of giving up never crossed the child's mind. Gritting his teeth, Harry dragged himself to his feet.
Harry staggered through the hall, using the wall as leverage. Once in a while, he had to latch onto a protruding rock to keep from stumbling, but soon his hands startled to tremble from the exertion. His legs felt like water beneath his weight; he fell so many times he had lost count. He had no idea where Dumbledore's office was, but his legs seemed to know where to go. Harry followed the instinct; it never failed him before.
But when he sank against a picture frame to steady the undulating floor, an icy hand gripped his heart.
A plump, white rat curled on a thickly cushioned chair, sleeping in front of a roaring fire. Its whiskers twitched slightly in irritation every once in a while, turning so that it laid on his back, his tiny paws poking skyward. Its front, right paw was toed with four joints; that seemed to scream for attention.
Harry froze.
The rat was familiar somehow, just like Padfoot and Moony. But at the same time, it was different. There wasn't that calm, trusting quality about it; rather, just seeing it made Harry's hair prickle and skin crawl. Harry wasn't sure whether to trust of fear it. Instincts told him to leave it, but the rat didn't seem harmful.
He apprehensively turned his gaze to the picture frame, twice as tall as himself. The picture had a distinct outline of a person, but it was empty like someone had carved him out. Whoever used to occupy it was a wide lady in a dress. Harry brushed his fingers over the smooth surface, and the entire frame swung open.
Harry stared at the back of a red velvet chair, sitting innocently in front of the roaring fireplace.
*
This chapter was writting in a bit of a rush, sorry!! Remus and Sirius are still a bit formal around each other, but that's to be expected after all that's occurred. Their conversation seems... *sigh* what do you think?
*cackle* I'm not letting WS fall past the climax just yet Tarawen (I got your email, ummm... about the psychatrist... lessee... I donnuo! It's going to be really scary when I post the last chapter!), Bored Beyond Belief (wow... love the pen name), Teigra (nope! WS is addictive to write... *sigh*), Chrysta (how's dinner?), Kit Cloudkicker (humm... now that you mention it, I didn't include Poppy much, but she should have been in it. Ack... *goes back to rewrite stuff*)!
Wow... kaydee... you are very enthusasitic! humm... I'm amazed you like CD, I always that that fic was... I'll refrain from bashing, but that was my hit and miss first HP fic. Well, actually third, but the first two didn't count since they were only 1 page long things that never made it to ffNET. Anyway, Dumbledore does seem manupulative, doesn't he? But he's the type who'd play you like a pawn and you'd still respect him. And why the hell did he name his phoenix Fawkes?! Guy Fawkes was the traitor who attempted to blow up the Parliament building, he's considered a derogatory and disgraceful person. I wonder if that's any kind of foreshadowing on Rowling's part. Perhaps Dumbledore's the big bad evil badguy?
Oooooo... cruuuuuuud... I just realized I've been spelling Voldemort's name wrong for the past three months. Thanks for bringing it to my attention WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Nicky!
Now that you mention it, Nicky, you're right. Dumbledore's relationship with Harry was really downplayed in the movie. He also seemed a bit stiff somehow. Minerva was played really well though, she deserved a plus.
Ack! Allocin, you're computer's disappearing?!?! How can you live? ACCCCCCCCK!! I will burn incense for you...
Gaby, doesn't Sirius seem to be the type of those overprotective parents that tries to keep his kid from growing up? He's going to have a really hard time letting Harry go
Lindsay, you're right, James wasn't bald, but he had the impending baldness with the shiny forehead... Maybe they wanted to make him seem older so they wouldn't be promoting underage marriages. Or well... older aged marriages.
Thanks for recommending it to a friend Rowena! Ack, I hope you didn't get in trouble, Rainbow. Don't die just yet!
Puddles & Lnyx, what Dumbledore said about Harry plays a part in the sequel. And the comparison between them plays apart too. Ack... I'm so tempted to drop clues! It's been a sort of craze of the late, I haven't been working on CD or PoM. *sigh* Well, it does not take place during Harry's first year actually, but about nine months prior, in the winter time. And it is dark, very very dark, even worse than CD. Which is bad since Harry's only ten years old, but... *sigh*
Thanks for all those great reviews!! Suppose to be reading something for summer school, but... *groan*
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-five - of reconciliation
Sirius sat uneasily on the thick carpet, leaning against the four poster as he stared up at the vermilion drapery. After over five years of sleeping on boards, a week of using leaves and grass for insulation, and another of sleeping in chairs, he suddenly found a bed uncomfortable. No, it was the large and richly room that made him uncomfortable. It felt so much like a prison, simply redecorated.
Sirius rubbed his eyes harshly, willing them to stay open. He wasn't at ease without the child in sight. He hadn't seen Harry since Remus portkeyed away with him four hours ago, and since then, not one person had stepped into his secluded room. The image of Harry lying alone in the infirmary was plaguing him past the point of endurance; the shy little boy must be frightened half to death, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. Sirius chewed his lip worriedly, increasingly anxious. He didn't have the invisibility cloak; that was folded neatly on Dumbledore's desk. He had finally grown so desperate that he attempted prying open the door, subtly be damned, but the seal that kept intruders out seemed to have locked him in. He had tried everything since, pounding on the walls for hidden passages, scrounging the room for floo powder, then finally prying at the picture frame.
He was starting to feel claustrophobic.
He was beginning to worry that the entire thing was a trap to turn him over to the ministry, but logic spoke against that. Remus believed him. Dumbledore and McGonagall did as well. Sirius had a vague idea why they were trying so hard to keep his position a secret, but he was still indignant.
The ministry wouldn't readily accept his innocence, especially with only Sirius' story as proof. The bits and pieces he picked from the discarded notes and papers left lying on the table was enough so show just how incompetent the Minister of Magic was. Fudge was a selfish fool would do anything to salvage his reputation, including flinging him back into prison or executing him with the dementor's kiss, as long as they kept his escape a secret. The chance of him openly pardoning him was equivalent to Sirius miraculously running across Pettigrew. But Sirius didn't care about freedom as long as he could have his godson back. Sirius inwardly sighed, rubbing his eyes. The sun had risen hours ago, and he still hadn't slept. He couldn't remember a time he actually slept through the night for the past week. His body was screaming for rest, but he fought it. If Remus or Dumbledore came to bring news on Harry, he had to be awake to hear it.
The door cracked open with a soft creak.
Sirius scrambled to his feet eagerly, ears attuned to any noise.
"Sirius?" his name was spoken in a cautious whisper.
The heavy picture frame opened further, falling into the room with a shaft of morning sunlight. A lanky form peeked out from behind it, grey eyes scanning the room before falling at the dark corner. The man paused, a brief look of uncertainty passing over his gaunt face.
"Remus," Sirius greeted slowly.
And for several minutes, the two friends just stared at each other.
Slowly, Remus stepped into the red and gold room, the door fusing into the wall behind him. Sirius stilled nervously. He was never uneasy before, but that was always in the company of another. Meeting his friend of nine years, with five years of misunderstandings in between, he was unexpectedly agitated.
He hadn't noticed how much Remus had changed since the past five years. The robes he wore were patched and frayed; it must have been hard for him to find employment. His face was worn as if he hadn't slept well for weeks. But knowing the situation, that was probably the truth. The glossy brown hair he had during school had thinned out, and looking ready to grey. But his eyes seemed younger than before.
Sirius wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. He knew he needed to apologize for the mistake he made and for the misjudgment he made that cost him for than anything he could imagine. Tell him how relieved he was when Remus believed him, how happy. But seeing the same guilt mirror in his friend's grey eyes made the words clog in his throat.
Oddly, it was Remus who spoke first. He made his way to a stray chair, but hesitated to sit, resting his hands over the surface lightly.
"Harry gave McGonagall quite a shock after she stunned you," Remus murmured, trying to keep his tone light. It was a simple statement that shattered some of the tension between them.
That caught Sirius' attention immediately. "He did? What did he do?"
"He… he didn't take it very well. He was very upset, very worried," Remus said awkwardly, beginning to regret bringing up the topic. He was just starting to understand the depth of their bond, ever since he saw the attachment Harry had to his godfather. Sirius cared for the six year old far more than himself, but it was guilt that tied him. If he realized the extent that Harry went to keep the only family he knew safe, Sirius would probably drown himself in another wave of guilt.
Sirius seemed to understand some of his unspoken words, however. He averted his gaze, a shadow of regret and sadness passing over his face. "Harry must have been terrified."
"Harry's alright," Remus said quickly, forcing a small smile for reassurance. "He's resting in the infirmary right now."
"You shouldn't leave him alone. If he wakes up, he'll be really confused and frightened," Sirius' words came in a rush, and he stood as if he was preparing to barge into the infirmary.
Sirius still hadn't changed despite the years with dementors. Remus shook his head slightly, grinning in amusement. "Harry's been given the sleeping potion, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's probably too exhausted to wake up within the next eight hours. She's rather territorial, wouldn't let me stay with him for more than half an hour."
But Sirius missed the lighthearted words altogether. "How is Harry? Is he going to be okay?" Sirius asked worriedly.
"Harry's fine. Madam Pomfrey healed most of the damage, but the blood loss and bruises would have to heal by themselves." Remus' expression darkened as he recalled the memory. "The Dursleys… they went too far."
Sirius swallowed an enraged snarl at the mention of Harry's relatives. Scores of murderous passed his mind, but he could find no coherent words to express it.
"Harry's very fond of you," Remus said suddenly, eager to change the subject. "I've only seen him for a few days before the… incident and he was always very silent, very shy."
"He is. He used to be so afraid of me," Sirius softly murmured, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed. "He used to flinch every time I came near, wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat."
"That seems so hard to believe," Remus whispered, thoughtfully. He watched his friend sympathetically when Sirius fell silent again. "Harry really trusts you. You did a good job taking care of him, Sirius. Even Madam Pomfrey admitted it."
Sirius only managed a shaky smile, making no attempt to reply. Without Harry to anchor them, both lost in their own thoughts of the past. After five years of separation, it was as if a thick wall was built between them, and they lost the closely knit understanding of their friendship. To tear it away was difficult; they had changed so much.
"Thank you for believing me," Sirius slowly said. It was rather uncharacteristic for him to be so formal, but it would have been uncharacteristic for him to be ambiguous.
Remus tensed at the abrupt change of topic, his gray eyes darkening and his lips thinning into a line.
"I should have known it wasn't you," Remus whispered, leaning against the back of the chair wearily. "I'm sorry I believed everyone else."
Sirius frowned bitterly. "I shouldn't have suspected you in the first place. Moony, did you know I thought you were the spy?"
"The thought crossed my mind last night. But it doesn't matter anymore," Remus waved it off lightly, tone determinedly resolute. "We both made mistakes. Lets just be relieved that they were corrected."
Harry was very uneasy when he struggled through the thick haze of sleep. The blankets, however warm and thick they were, carried to sense of comfort and reassurance. It was as if he was back in the cupboard, only with sheets this time. Days ago, he would have shuddered if anyone touched him. But now, Harry found himself terrified at the prospect of being alone.
He blined, a bit bewildered by the unfamilar, whitewashed wall staring back at him. The ceiling was unfamiliar from the low tan of the hotel room, far larger and far more intimidating. The room was deafeningly quiet, so quiet that Harry was sure he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.
That was when he realized something was different.
Harry sat up, scarcely aware of the bleached sheets that covered him, and the cotton shirt that hung on him like a blanket. There was no ranking flash of pain through his ribs; no throb in his wrist. It didn't even hurt breathing. Confused, Harry pulled back his sleeve. The splotches of blue and purple were still imprinted in his skin, but it stung only mildly.
What...?
The memory of the past day dropped like stones in his mind. Harry drew a sharp breath, tensing fearfully. The last image that lingered in his mind was the old man asking questions about his dream, the fear of the wolf person taking him away. Remus was in the room, under a silvery thing that faded and reappeared like a flimsy half ghost. He called a thin lady that reminded him disturbingly of Aunt Petunia, and everything slid into murkiness from there. Harry shuddered as the loud shrieks and accusations replayed themselves in his mind.
Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone! He was the only person who ever sat at his bedside patiently, and treated him with a fatherly affection. He was the only person never yelled at him, screamed at him, or hit him. And now he was gone!
He hadn't realized how attached he became to his godfather until Sirius was gone. It was strange without the blurry shadow of the man at his bedside. If was as if the warm comfort that reassured him for the past two weeks was suddenly gone, and Harry was lost. His godfather was the only person he was at ease around. And they took him away! He was innocent, he didn't do anything. Harry's hand trembled, a dampness stinging his eyes. It was unfair, Sirius never deserved it…
He lingered on the bed listlessly, holding his breath to choke back the prickling in his throat. Years of neglect had taught him to be silent, and without his godfather to block them, thvose fears drowned him in waves. He clenched the blankets so tightly that his hands shook, drawing his knees against his chest defensively. After some minutes of deafening silence, shakily sat up.
He was going to find Sirius even if it took him hours.
Harry crawled off the bed clumsily, too short to reach the floor without a jump. His legs shook violently under the weight, but it was the first time the week since he could stand without aid. Using the wall was a guide, he slowly made his way to the door.
By the time Harry reached passed the heavy oak frame, he was coughing and gasping for air. His legs were shaking so violently that he had to lean against the door knob to keep from falling, and the room swayed in his vision. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself past the door, stumbling into a medieval hall that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Harry sank against the stone wall at the impossible impediment.
Harry slumped to the floor, gripping his bruised leg with a grimace. Although the cast was removed and the bone healed, it still stung bitingly. Harry drew several calming breaths, wiping at the sweat that trickled down his face. The thought of giving up never crossed the child's mind. Gritting his teeth, Harry dragged himself to his feet.
Harry staggered through the hall, using the wall as leverage. Once in a while, he had to latch onto a protruding rock to keep from stumbling, but soon his hands startled to tremble from the exertion. His legs felt like water beneath his weight; he fell so many times he had lost count. He had no idea where Dumbledore's office was, but his legs seemed to know where to go. Harry followed the instinct; it never failed him before.
But when he sank against a picture frame to steady the undulating floor, an icy hand gripped his heart.
A plump, white rat curled on a thickly cushioned chair, sleeping in front of a roaring fire. Its whiskers twitched slightly in irritation every once in a while, turning so that it laid on his back, his tiny paws poking skyward. Its front, right paw was toed with four joints; that seemed to scream for attention.
Harry froze.
The rat was familiar somehow, just like Padfoot and Moony. But at the same time, it was different. There wasn't that calm, trusting quality about it; rather, just seeing it made Harry's hair prickle and skin crawl. Harry wasn't sure whether to trust of fear it. Instincts told him to leave it, but the rat didn't seem harmful.
He apprehensively turned his gaze to the picture frame, twice as tall as himself. The picture had a distinct outline of a person, but it was empty like someone had carved him out. Whoever used to occupy it was a wide lady in a dress. Harry brushed his fingers over the smooth surface, and the entire frame swung open.
Harry stared at the back of a red velvet chair, sitting innocently in front of the roaring fireplace.
*
This chapter was writting in a bit of a rush, sorry!! Remus and Sirius are still a bit formal around each other, but that's to be expected after all that's occurred. Their conversation seems... *sigh* what do you think?
*cackle* I'm not letting WS fall past the climax just yet Tarawen (I got your email, ummm... about the psychatrist... lessee... I donnuo! It's going to be really scary when I post the last chapter!), Bored Beyond Belief (wow... love the pen name), Teigra (nope! WS is addictive to write... *sigh*), Chrysta (how's dinner?), Kit Cloudkicker (humm... now that you mention it, I didn't include Poppy much, but she should have been in it. Ack... *goes back to rewrite stuff*)!
Wow... kaydee... you are very enthusasitic! humm... I'm amazed you like CD, I always that that fic was... I'll refrain from bashing, but that was my hit and miss first HP fic. Well, actually third, but the first two didn't count since they were only 1 page long things that never made it to ffNET. Anyway, Dumbledore does seem manupulative, doesn't he? But he's the type who'd play you like a pawn and you'd still respect him. And why the hell did he name his phoenix Fawkes?! Guy Fawkes was the traitor who attempted to blow up the Parliament building, he's considered a derogatory and disgraceful person. I wonder if that's any kind of foreshadowing on Rowling's part. Perhaps Dumbledore's the big bad evil badguy?
Oooooo... cruuuuuuud... I just realized I've been spelling Voldemort's name wrong for the past three months. Thanks for bringing it to my attention WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Nicky!
Now that you mention it, Nicky, you're right. Dumbledore's relationship with Harry was really downplayed in the movie. He also seemed a bit stiff somehow. Minerva was played really well though, she deserved a plus.
Ack! Allocin, you're computer's disappearing?!?! How can you live? ACCCCCCCCK!! I will burn incense for you...
Gaby, doesn't Sirius seem to be the type of those overprotective parents that tries to keep his kid from growing up? He's going to have a really hard time letting Harry go
Lindsay, you're right, James wasn't bald, but he had the impending baldness with the shiny forehead... Maybe they wanted to make him seem older so they wouldn't be promoting underage marriages. Or well... older aged marriages.
Thanks for recommending it to a friend Rowena! Ack, I hope you didn't get in trouble, Rainbow. Don't die just yet!
Puddles & Lnyx, what Dumbledore said about Harry plays a part in the sequel. And the comparison between them plays apart too. Ack... I'm so tempted to drop clues! It's been a sort of craze of the late, I haven't been working on CD or PoM. *sigh* Well, it does not take place during Harry's first year actually, but about nine months prior, in the winter time. And it is dark, very very dark, even worse than CD. Which is bad since Harry's only ten years old, but... *sigh*
Thanks for all those great reviews!! Suppose to be reading something for summer school, but... *groan*