To Erenriel the Elven Canuck and Reius Devirix - Thanks! The spinning, however, will not end yet - oh no.

Lily Evans

I don't know why I did it.

When Sirius Black wrote me, saying James was missing, did I know anything about it - it was obvious he was sending the same thing to everyone, but somehow it seemed connected to me.

I woke up my father and mother, and begged them, begged them to drive me. We weren't connected to the Floo Network, I hadn't taken an Apparition test yet, and there was no way I could make a Portkey, it was illegal.

I was going to miss saying goodbye to Petunia. She was moving out in the morning to live with her uppity fat fiancé and perhaps it was for the best. My parents were miserable - she's only eighteen - when she announced the news, and of course so was I, but I know she'll be happier with him. No matter how much she hates me, I don't hate her and I wish her the best.

The drive was the longest four hours of my life. Daddy was speeding most of the way, and he almost got a ticket. When we arrived, Dumbledore was checking in and out, and the house was swarming with students.

Remus was looking pale and obviously feeling useless - he was sick, they all said, but I wasn't stupid, and I knew what was going on. He and I were prefects together and I had noticed the times when he seemed ill. I hadn't said anything to him yet.

Sirius was standing alone in the empty kitchen for the moment - I found him when I went to talk to Dumbledore. He started when he saw me, looked like he was about to say something sharp or vicious, then burst into tears.

Taken aback, I took a deep breath and did something I had never even considered I'd do. I put an arm around his shoulder and cried with him.

It was an understanding that sprang up between us, and I don't think he ever forgot it.

After a few minutes, we both wiped our eyes, and went to work again.

Dumbledore, who looked grimmer than I'd seen him since the morning he'd announced Professor Woodworth's death, set me to work on the note that Remus had gotten. I recognized James' handwriting, scrawled though it was, but no charms worked. Mr. Potter tried without success to help me.

I was in shock, I think, from indirectly admitting my feelings at last.