Chapter One:
The Last Letter
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The room was large and square, the stone walls covered top to bottom with shelves crammed with dusty books, baubles, beakers, and jars that contained things that Professor Snape would have in his office. Of course, Harry already knew that the surly potions teacher had pickled newt tails, but he wasn't sure if they were floating in what looked to be runny goop that shifted from blue to red to silver to gold every few seconds.
Harry walked away from the corner he was in and went towards the middle of the room where long metal tables were crammed together, sagging under at least ten chemistry sets like on would expect to see in a mad scientist's lab. He peered closely at a green kettle, where pinkish steam whistled from its spout, while what looked to be a large car battery whirred in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. It was like something out of a movie.
"Now, if I boil the frog eyes for nine minutes-"
He whipped his head to a brightly lit corner of the room, where a willowy blonde woman furiously scribbled numbers and diagrams onto a black board with her wand. Her scraggly hair was pinned up hastily with two pencils, a few locks escaping and tickling her defined cheekbones. A pair of rectangular spectacles very much like Professor McGonagall's were perched upon her little nose and she screwed up her face in concentration. The woman paused for a moment, tapping the tip of her wand against her thigh, forehead crinkled in deep thought.
"Lunes, set the generator for three. I think I've got it."
Harry watched with a familiar, sinking feeling in his stomach as a young Luna Lovegood walked out of the shadows to what was apparently the generator. He was rooted to the spot as she began flipping switches and spinning dials on the odd looking contraption that looked like a cross between a small television set and a rocking horse.
She looked relatively the same as he had seen her before; Butterbeer cap necklace dangling around her neck, long, dishwater coloured hair, and those same silvery blue eyes that bugged out just a little bit.
"All set." Luna declared proudly, as all nine year olds do, and stepped away from the generator as it whirred and hissed to life. The woman, who was now apparently Mrs. Lovegood, strode up to the table purposefully and grabbed a golden ball almost as small as a snitch. Harry tried to get closer, but his feet were firmly affixed to the floor by the whistling teakettle, which had fallen silent just a moment ago.
Mrs. Lovegood unscrewed the top off and grabbed a beaker filled with what looked to be boiling marsh water. She carefully poured the liquid in and screwed the top back on. Mrs. Lovegood took two wires that connected to the generator and inserted them somehow into the golden ball.
"When I say three, I want you to flip the switch, Lunes." Luna nodded and put her hand on a joystick. "One.... two.... three!" Luna flipped the joystick and the golden ball began to glow.... brighter and brighter it became when suddenly, little bits of electricity began to slither from the ball up Mrs. Lovegood's hand. Her chiselled face became panicked and she tried to let go of the ball, but she couldn't. Fingers of electricity licked up her arms and around her neck. Luna tried to flip the switch back, but nothing happened when she did, the electricity continued to consume Mrs. Lovegood.
Luna was backing away from her mother, horrified. The girl sunk to the floor as her mother began screaming. Luna clapped her hands over her ears, sobbing.
Then the screaming stopped and Mrs. Lovegood dropped to the floor. Harry stared at the burnt body, green eyes wide behind his round glasses.
All that could be heard in the room was the small child crying...
~*~
Harry's eyes snapped open and he blinked a few times, letting the last tendrils of sleep slip away. Every time he blinked, the image from the dream burned into his mind, vivid as if he had really been there. Rubbing his eyes, he groped for his glasses and shoved them on. The red digital numbers on the clock winked two thirty in the morning. Harry groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, cheek pressed against the mattress, and his left hand pressed against the carpet.
Another summer at the Dursley household was coming to a close as August began to lose its steam as it drifted lazily into September. At least this time, it didn't drag as it did last year...Harry's stomach gave a jolt and he pressed his face into the cool pillow as he went over the events of this summer.
It was strange at the Dursley's house this summer. Dudley was still spending all his time 'at his friend's house having tea', and stayed as far from Harry as he could. Harry still saw Dudley on his afternoon walks, and felt a small trickle of happiness at the look on his cousin's face every time the bigger boy saw him. Dudley would immediately turn in the opposite direction, his gang following him without a complaint. Those who did complain would be heard whimpering with a broken nose.
There wasn't much to say about Harry's uncle. Mr. Dursley still went to work at his drill company every morning, and like Dudley, said nothing to Harry.
Mrs. Dursley had a scowl permanently fixed on her face, intensifying every time she laid her eyes on Harry. She was the only one to talk to him, and it was only to tell him to mow the yard, clean the dishes, or something like that. Maybe it had something to do with the howler she had received before he had left.
Last year, Harry thought bitterly as he flipped over onto his back, slamming his head back into his pillow. Last year, his father wasn't an abusive git who hexed people because they were simply there. Last year he didn't have 'I shall not tell lies' carved into the back of his hand. And last year-
Last year, Sirius was safe and sound and Grimmauld Place with Kreacher the house elf from hell, the verbally abusive Mrs. Black, the boggart in the study desk. Last year he was threatening Snape on his behalf. Last year, Sirius was fighting with Mrs. Weasley on whether or not he should hear the truth. Last year he wasn't coming to the rescue at the Ministry.
Last year he was still alive.
Tap! Tap!
Harry swiped at his eyes and looked up to see several owls gathered around his window, Hedwig among them, tapping at the window. With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed and lifted the window up.
One by one, each of the foreign birds flew in after his own and perched about the room. Harry reached into his bedside drawer to pull out a dish and bottle of water for the owls when a little fur ball came zooming in, colliding with a soft thump against his school robes in the opened wardrobe.
Pigwidgeon flew out quickly twittering slightly and dropped his letter on the bed before helping himself to the water Harry just got done pouring. The other owls followed suit, dropping their letters with Pig's and taking a few gulps from the water dish. Then they were off again, leaving Harry and Hedwig alone.
Harry shuffled over to his bed and scooped up the small pile of letters and plopped down onto his bed and sorted through them. His Hogwarts school list was the first that he opened, which also contained his O.W.L results from the Ministry.
An 'Outstanding' was giving in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures, 'Averages' in Transfiguration, Astronomy, Potions, and Divination. Harry smiled and set that aside and flipped through the letters once more. One from Ron, one from Hermione, one from Luna, one from Ne-
Luna?
Harry's stomach flip-flopped as the screaming of Mrs. Lovegood filled his head; with Luna's sobs as its harmony. He shook his head and continued sorting through the letters. A particularly thick one caught his attention, his name written in unfamiliar handwriting graced the front and his stomach lurched and he opened the letter.
Hello there. I honestly see no point in addressing the letter to you, since Serendipity is quiet reliable and whomever wants to intercept it and read it instead of you will only see that this letter concerns Coconut migration and African Swallows, nothing more.
Anyway, I don't know if you heard or not, but our house was attacked, along with the most of The Quibbler's printing presses.
Seems that He-Who-Has-A-Large-Broomstick-Up-His-Arse wasn't very happy about Dad printing your story. So I'll be staying with Ginny until the house gets fixed, although Headmaster Dumbledore says that I should continue to stay where I am, because I could be kidnapped or something. Who knows, and I certainly don't care.
Supposedly Ickle Ronnikens (It's quiet funny actually. When you call him that, he sputters and gets indignant) and Hermione have written to tell you that your coming over whether you like it or not and you better be happy about it. I personally think that's rather dictatorial of them and that you should go wherever you please (unlike me who must stay and behave herself because, like the Boy-With-the-Painful-Looking-Scar-On-His-Head, she's to do what she's told and take it like a man. But I don't see how I could take it like a man when I have no evidence of male body parts.)
Thank God. I'm very happy with the way I am.
You're very lucky, this has got to be the longest letter I've actually written to someone who's not Dad.
See you soon,
Luna Lunetta Lovegood I, Queen of Thestral Sighters, Second in Command for the search of Crumple-Horned-Snoracks, and prone to random bouts of dancing.
Harry stared at the words and quickly reread them several times. He could hear her dreamy voice ringing in his head. 'He-Who-Has-A-Large-Broomstick-Up-His-Arse'… 'Boy-With-the-Painful-Looking-Scar-On-His-Head'. Harry snorted slightly, his ribs hurting and his breath catching from the guffaws he was trying to repress.
~*~
With agonizing slowness, the clock shifted from 11:59 p.m., to midnight. Harry didn't notice, he was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his Chudley Cannons book again, snoring softly. Fifth night in a row, the demise of Mrs. Lovegood plagued his dreams and the six hours of sleep that he had accumulated through the past week was getting to him, and he was prone to falling asleep with his eyes wide open at the breakfast table.
Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
Tap! Tap!
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.
Tap! Tap!
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arc…
And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.
Tap! TAP!
Harry herd Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing – Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear any second…
But Sirius did not reappear.
"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, "SIRIUS!"
Rap! Tap! Rap!
Harry jerked awake to see Pig at the window, flying and bumping against it wildly. Harry groggily stood up and wrenched the window open and pick flew around and dropped a letter on the desk and flew back out as fast as he came. Harry shook his head and glanced picked up his book. His gazed turned to the letter lying on his desk. He took it and opened it.
Harry,
I found this letter addressed to you in Sirius's room. It was written not too long before the incident and I think you should read this. I know Snape's memories deeply effected your perception of your father, but this might help a bit.
Sirius, ever since he escaped Azkaban, planned on leaving everything to you. Dumbledore has the deeds to the house in his care until you graduate.
Everything will be okay,
Remus
Harry's eyes blurred slightly as he unfolded the stained piece of parchment. His hands shook as he began to read.
Harry,
At times, your father was the biggest idiot you could imagine, but he was a good man. Harry, at times, your father was the biggest idiot you could imagine, but he was a good man. After I left you in your third year, I made a stop at the graveyard where your parents were buried.
Your father always said that if Voldemort did find them; he wasn't to leave your mother's side. But I think he meant that when she was ready to die. Though maybe he felt a surge of relief that he didn't have to die alone, and that he saved you and Lils the sadness. I remember reading the old journal he kept. Everything about Lily, Snape, I never knew the inner grief. He was always strong.
His qualities, strong.
But then again, he had a right to his personal life. Even if we told each other everything. I mean, we were friends for life. He was always laughing and enjoying life, even at the worst of times.
His qualities, bright ol' ray of sunshine.
Dumbledore said that death was but the next great adventure and I believe him. But will it be an adventure to me? But my friend usually tried to find the best in everything (besides Snape).
His qualities, delve deep.
Harry closed his eyes and took in a few shaking breaths. His heart constricted painfully and a tear leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks.
I know, this isn't something you wanted to hear from me, and I think I've said enough to ease your mind about him.
Harry… Please, don't be stupid. Don't do anything rash. I've lost practically everyone important in my life. I lost my best friend… I don't want to loose you too. You're too important to me, to everyone. If you think there's something that needs doing, FIND a way to tell someone before going off and acting the hero. PLEASE.
Sirius
Harry took a deep breath and looked out the window at the scene below him. The sun was rising slowly over the nicely kept lawns of Privet Drive.
He stumbled back against the closet and slumped to the floor, holding his head in his hands.
For the first time since it happened, Harry wept.
