Title: The Telling of the Stars
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/plot/etc… made up by J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Hi everyone. This is a story I decided to write after the sadness that overcame me when reading book five. I just couldn't believe that out of all the characters that J.K. Rowling could of killed off, it had to be Sirius. It's not fair! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you'll check out my other works.
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cHARRY POTTER and the Telling of the Stars/c
Harry Potter sat on his bed in house number four of Privet Drive staring at the glittering object that had caught the evening's moonbeam shining threw his window. It was late, he knew, but he didn't know how late. His uncle's snores had been filtering through his closed door for hours, but that wasn't why he was still awake. He had had restless nights ever since he had come back from Hogwarts.
The words of Luna Lovegood, though they had been reassuring, did nothing to fill the emptiness that was in his heart since Sirius's death. Harry reached out to touch one of the broken shards of glass that lay on top of the folds of the covers on Harry's bed. Harry sighed wishing that in his moment of anger he had not broken the mirror Sirius had given him. Even though the reality of Sirius's death was more emphasized when Harry had tried to use it, shattering the mirror had been like shattering his heart. It was the last thing Sirius had given to him, and he wanted to cherish it forever.
He took the broken piece he had picked up, and laid it back down, wishing he wasn't at his aunt's and uncle's. Because of the restriction on underage wizardry he was unable to repair the mirror he had so savagely broken. He'd have to wait till his return to Hogwarts so he could magically repair the mirror.
Harry reached over and placed the pieces of the mirror into a handkerchief and headed downstairs. Ever since the threat the Order had made to the Dursely's about Harry's treatment the locks had been removed from Harry's door. In fact, the Dudley's had hardly said a word to him as the followed the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, then don't say it at all." None of them wanted to upset Harry for fear of what the "freaks" as the Dursely's would say, would do to them.
Harry pulled a cup down from the cabinet and filled it with water. He took a sip of it, and then headed outside to the front porch. He wasn't the least bit tired, and lately, his dreams of been filled with nothing but memories of the night Sirius died. It was not something that Harry was looking forward to reliving every night.
Harry lay down on the front porch and looked up at the sky. It wasn't a particularly clear night, but the stars would be seen glowing above him as the winds pushed the clouds across the sky. This time last year, Harry was starting to go crazy. This is when all news from the wizarding world was silent and the fate of his godfather had been unknown. Now Harry couldn't care less. Days were still slipping by with agonizing slowness, but that was because he was up for the majority of the day and night doing nothing while the Dursely's pretended he didn't exist. Needless to say, his life wasn't going the way he had wanted.
He had hoped that Voldemort would have been stopped by now, that the Ministry would have believed that Sirius Black had not murdered thirteen people, that the dementors had not left Azkaban, and that Harry would be living happily with his godfather. Instead Voldemort was only to grow stronger, Sirius Black was dead, dementors had left Azkaban unprotected and filled with the newly admitted Death Eaters, and Sirius Black was dead. It wasn't fair.
Harry squinted up at the stars from his position on the Dursely porch. He could of sworn that he'd seen the order of several stars switch. He looked at them closely, but it didn't happen again. Feeling an odd sense of insecurity, Harry looked around, but it seemed as if the whole neighborhood was asleep. Harry took one glance back up at the stars, which were now securely covered by clouds, and headed into the house.
