A/N: I don't know how to do italics on fanfic, so ** signals the start and
end of every letter. If anyone knows how to do those cute little things
(italics, bold, etc) please email me.
Disclaimer: I own everything -- everything outside the Harry Potter universe. That belongs to J.K.R. ****************************************************
It had been some weeks since Harry had written to Luna, and he still didn't have a response. Not that he didn't have plenty to keep busy with. Snape had assigned the sixth years a nasty essay about controversial growth potions. Harry remembered Ron's reaction when the Potions Master had told them it was to be three rolls of parchment long.
"Three rolls! I'll need to grow a new brain to finish that!" he had said.
On top of that, Flitwick was making them research hygiene spells, Sinistra was making them keep a stargazing journal, McGonagall asked for a roll of parchment on pre-natal transfigurations - only Hagrid had failed to give them summer homework, a small consolation.
So slowly, Harry chuffed away at his work. He started with Flitwick's essay; it would probably be the easiest, and looked at the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 under "personal care." Hundreds of spells greeted his eyes. There were deodorizing spells (Harry surreptitiously sniffed his armpit), pedicure spells (he glanced at his chewed-up fingers), and even nose-hair removal spells.
"Well, that's one thing I don't have to worry about," he chuckled. A long braid of nose hair, while funny gag, would not help his already poor chances with the girls.
Finally, he decided to write about the bleaching spell, mostly because the witch in the diagram was quite pretty, winking and fluffing her hair up at him. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and started describing the bleaching charm. Halfway through reading the section, "Side affects to being blonde and beautiful," Harry wondered what he'd look like with golden locks.
'A little too much like Malfoy,' he though disgustedly. 'Stupid, towheaded git, maybe this was the spell that addled his ----'
But Harry's insult was interrupted by a rap at the window. As he got up to open it, and an official looking tawny owl flew once around the room and dropped a letter in Harry's hand. Hedwig moved over and allowed the owl to have some of her water, but it declined, and exited Harry's window almost at once.
'What in the world could this be?' Harry thought, examining the letter. The only time he had ever gotten anything from the Ministry, it had been to bring him bad news. But he hadn't done any underage magic, not even one tiny Lumos spell, so that couldn't be it. He read:
**Dear Mr. H Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that your O.W.L. testing results have arrived. If you have any questions, please contact Professor Marchbanks at the Testing and Examinations Office.**
And below, Harry saw his O.W.L.S. He hadn't done too badly - he'd gotten an 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures, an 'E' in Transfiguration and Charms, an 'A' in Potions ("Holy Phoenix!" Harry cried at this) and Herbology, a 'P' in Astronomy and History of Magic, and a 'D' in Divination.
"At least I didn't get any Ts," Harry told Hedwig. She hooted approvingly.
Harry was just about to write a letter to Ron (He wanted to share his scores with Ron before Hermione started bragging about her 100 Os) when something small and bushy collided with his face. For one split second Harry thought of being strangled by Hermione, but then he regained his senses and saw that three owls were lying on the floor, in varying states of consciousness.
"A little too eager,' he laughed to himself, picking up the largest one and reading the message.
**Dear Mr. Potter
Congratulations! You have been nominated as an intern at the Defense Agency in the Ministry of Magic. Not only did you receive the highest Defense Against the Dark Arts score this year at the O.W.L. examinations, you also have demonstrated yourself to be a highly courageous and able young man. You were nominated by Mr. Albus Dumbledore, who has brought your work against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to our attention. We feel you will be a valuable member of our team.
This is an extraordinary opportunity, and we hope that you will be able to take advantage of it.
Yours sincerely, Aurora Grandnook, Ministry of Magic**
Harry reread the letter three times, hoping that it would make more sense, but each time more and more questions entered his mind.
Since when did the Ministry of Magic have a Defense Agency? And why would they nominate him? There were plenty of well-qualified wizards who deserved an internship more than him. An image of Percy salivating over such a prestigious internship made him smile grimly, but disappeared just as quick.
Besides, how could they nominate him, after he had led that ridiculous campaign into the Ministry? He wasn't a 'highly courageous young man,' he was stupid and foolhardy, allowing himself to be a pawn in Voldemort's plan. It was because of him that Sirius was dead. So how could the Ministry be patting him on the head and saying 'Job well done'? It all seemed so impossible.
'Maybe this is some kind of joke,' Harry reasoned. 'Maybe Malfoy or someone else just wants me to go prancing into the Ministry, asking where the Defense Agency is and where my office will be.'
And just as Harry said it, he began to believe it. If he actually did go there, he'd be laughed out of the wizarding world. It had taken long enough to convince them he had all his marbles, and he didn't plan to rock the broomstick now. Stubbornly ripping the parchment in two, Harry decided he would not be made a fool of.
He was so engrossed in the first letter, and so angry at the dirty trick someone had obviously played on him, that it took awhile for Harry to notice the tiny owl zooming around his head. Looking up, Harry recognized it as Pigwidgeon, and gave him a pat on the head while he tried to decipher Ron's unsightly scrawl.
**Dear Harry,
Hi! Dad told me about your internship at the Ministry. Great job, mate! And since you can't exactly get to and from the Ministry with the Muggles around, Dad said you could stay here for the rest of the summer. We'll pick you up on Monday.
P.S. I got my OWL results - 6 O.W.L.S. Mum freaked about the 'T' in Divination though, and said that trolls don't get any desert. Fred and George were proud, though.**
Ron's letter cheered Harry up a bit. He found it difficult to believe that anyone would impersonate Ron to trick him, and he felt slightly silly believing his internship was fake to begin with.
'I'm getting to be more paranoid than Mad-Eye Moody,' Harry sighed.
Besides, Ron seemed to think being an intern was a good thing. Surely not everyone in the Ministry had a stick up the old posterior like Percy? Maybe he would be working with the Aurors -it would be nice to see Tonks and maybe Lupin again.
But the thing that finally decided it for him was the prospect of getting away from the Dursleys - and going back to the Burrow - a whole month earlier than expected. He quickly scribbled an 'Okay, I'll be ready,' and 'I got 6 O.W.L.S too,' on the back of the parchment and put it in Pigwidgeon's beak.
Watching Pig fly away into the sunset, Harry beamed. Ron was proud of him. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone proud of him. It's not exactly like he could run to the Dursleys and expect them to clap him on the back for getting good O.W.L.S and an internship. He'd be more likely to expect a thump on the head for disturbing them.
But Sirius would be proud . . .
The angry, guilty feeling Harry was so used to now reappeared. Harry tried to push it back, steeling himself to check the last letter. A handsome eagle owl, one that Harry didn't recognize, was the bearer this time. It read:
**Hullo Harry,
I must say, I didn't expect you ever to owl me, but yes, I've been having a great summer. Dad and I just got back from a safari. We spotted two Purple-Horned Man Eaters (don't worry, we had goonberries with us - the Purple-Horned Man Eaters are violently allergic to those)! Dad can't wait to write it up in the Quibbler.
But now to the point. Harry, it's quite normal to think about Sirius now that he's gone. When my mum died, I felt like I had sunk into the bottom of the ocean and I would never surface again. I was sad and hurting, angry and annoyed, but somehow I pulled through.
Sometimes I still see her. Well, not really her, but signs of her, and I know she's watching. The chime of a bell, the song of a bird, even an unexpected shadow proves that I'm not alone.
But I was lucky in that I had my father to talk to. He would tell my stories about my mum, and we'd talk about our favorite things about her. I can still remember the way that she smells, the way she smiles, the way she shrieked when she found my Rhino-Gnome in her garden.**
**************
There was more to the letter, but Harry couldn't finish it. How could he? He had almost forgotten the way Sirius smelled, and smiled, and . . .well, Sirius didn't exactly shriek, but he did get pretty angry whenever he dealt with Snape. His common sense told him that it was okay he didn't remember how Sirius smelt or smiled; the truth was, he usually smelt pretty bad, especially when he was on the run, and he hardly ever smiled. But, as those who are under stress are wont to do, Harry ignored his common sense.
'How could I have forgotten Sirius so much? I think about him every day, and yet - I don't remember.'
Harry stuck his head into his trunk and once again pulled out his two-way- mirror, this time accompanied by the useless melted knife (Harry had stubbornly kept it) that Sirius had given him for Christmas, and some old letters his godfather had written him. This was all he had left of his Sirius. Would these too be forgotten one day?
Sitting down at his desk, Harry took a new piece of parchment and wrote.
Dear Luna, I know what you mean. It's hard to not feel mad or guilty about Sirius' death. I remember one time ------
****
Harry wrote into the night, trying to remember everything about Sirius he could and relaying it to Luna. He couldn't let his godfather be forgotten, and while writing it to Luna might be a poor repayment for everything Sirius had done for him, it was the best he could think of.
He wasn't sure how, but he knew Luna would understand his need to get everything out, and everything was a lot - almost 3 rolls of parchment. Harry's thoughts strayed to Snape's Growth Potions essay momentarily, thinking that having the Purpled-Horn Man Eater might come in handy in some situations. But, just as quickly, his attention returned to Luna, and he scanned the rest of her letter. He was glad she didn't think it was odd that he owling her all of the sudden. She was surprised, yes, but he guessed it took a lot more than an unexpected owl to astonish Luna.
In fact, Harry thought, her response had turned out to be a lot more insightful than he had expected. She didn't lather on any false sympathy, or try to give Harry any knowledgeable advice. She had simply related her feelings to Harry, as one grieving human being to another.
As it was now late, Harry began to clean up. He attached his letter to the eagle owl's leg (it was so long it weighed him down considerably), and began to put away Sirius' things.
He was tired, so he didn't notice the Dursleys pulling into the driveway after an evening at the theatre. He barely heard Uncle Vernon's guffaws as he relived the evening's festivities, or Dudley's complaints that they had skipped desert. Not that it mattered, because none of these things interested him anyways.
But what would have interested him, if he weren't so tired, was the faint trace of a face that appeared in the two-way mirror as he put it under the portrait of himself Dobby had made him last Christmas. True, Harry had thought that he saw something, but reasoned that it must be his mind playing tricks on him.
"You know what, Hedwig." Harry yawned as he lowered himself into his bed. "Maybe the crazy ones are actually the sanest of us all. Who knows? I never would have thought Luna could be so helpful. Maybe you should try being friends with Pigwidgeon?"
At this, Hedwig hooted impetuously. Harry had had her long enough to know what this meant.
Fat chance.
*****************************************
A/N: I know Lupin isn't exactly an Auror, but he works pretty closely with them, so close enough. Also, please review! I need some encouragement (or some criticism)!
Disclaimer: I own everything -- everything outside the Harry Potter universe. That belongs to J.K.R. ****************************************************
It had been some weeks since Harry had written to Luna, and he still didn't have a response. Not that he didn't have plenty to keep busy with. Snape had assigned the sixth years a nasty essay about controversial growth potions. Harry remembered Ron's reaction when the Potions Master had told them it was to be three rolls of parchment long.
"Three rolls! I'll need to grow a new brain to finish that!" he had said.
On top of that, Flitwick was making them research hygiene spells, Sinistra was making them keep a stargazing journal, McGonagall asked for a roll of parchment on pre-natal transfigurations - only Hagrid had failed to give them summer homework, a small consolation.
So slowly, Harry chuffed away at his work. He started with Flitwick's essay; it would probably be the easiest, and looked at the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 under "personal care." Hundreds of spells greeted his eyes. There were deodorizing spells (Harry surreptitiously sniffed his armpit), pedicure spells (he glanced at his chewed-up fingers), and even nose-hair removal spells.
"Well, that's one thing I don't have to worry about," he chuckled. A long braid of nose hair, while funny gag, would not help his already poor chances with the girls.
Finally, he decided to write about the bleaching spell, mostly because the witch in the diagram was quite pretty, winking and fluffing her hair up at him. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and started describing the bleaching charm. Halfway through reading the section, "Side affects to being blonde and beautiful," Harry wondered what he'd look like with golden locks.
'A little too much like Malfoy,' he though disgustedly. 'Stupid, towheaded git, maybe this was the spell that addled his ----'
But Harry's insult was interrupted by a rap at the window. As he got up to open it, and an official looking tawny owl flew once around the room and dropped a letter in Harry's hand. Hedwig moved over and allowed the owl to have some of her water, but it declined, and exited Harry's window almost at once.
'What in the world could this be?' Harry thought, examining the letter. The only time he had ever gotten anything from the Ministry, it had been to bring him bad news. But he hadn't done any underage magic, not even one tiny Lumos spell, so that couldn't be it. He read:
**Dear Mr. H Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that your O.W.L. testing results have arrived. If you have any questions, please contact Professor Marchbanks at the Testing and Examinations Office.**
And below, Harry saw his O.W.L.S. He hadn't done too badly - he'd gotten an 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures, an 'E' in Transfiguration and Charms, an 'A' in Potions ("Holy Phoenix!" Harry cried at this) and Herbology, a 'P' in Astronomy and History of Magic, and a 'D' in Divination.
"At least I didn't get any Ts," Harry told Hedwig. She hooted approvingly.
Harry was just about to write a letter to Ron (He wanted to share his scores with Ron before Hermione started bragging about her 100 Os) when something small and bushy collided with his face. For one split second Harry thought of being strangled by Hermione, but then he regained his senses and saw that three owls were lying on the floor, in varying states of consciousness.
"A little too eager,' he laughed to himself, picking up the largest one and reading the message.
**Dear Mr. Potter
Congratulations! You have been nominated as an intern at the Defense Agency in the Ministry of Magic. Not only did you receive the highest Defense Against the Dark Arts score this year at the O.W.L. examinations, you also have demonstrated yourself to be a highly courageous and able young man. You were nominated by Mr. Albus Dumbledore, who has brought your work against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to our attention. We feel you will be a valuable member of our team.
This is an extraordinary opportunity, and we hope that you will be able to take advantage of it.
Yours sincerely, Aurora Grandnook, Ministry of Magic**
Harry reread the letter three times, hoping that it would make more sense, but each time more and more questions entered his mind.
Since when did the Ministry of Magic have a Defense Agency? And why would they nominate him? There were plenty of well-qualified wizards who deserved an internship more than him. An image of Percy salivating over such a prestigious internship made him smile grimly, but disappeared just as quick.
Besides, how could they nominate him, after he had led that ridiculous campaign into the Ministry? He wasn't a 'highly courageous young man,' he was stupid and foolhardy, allowing himself to be a pawn in Voldemort's plan. It was because of him that Sirius was dead. So how could the Ministry be patting him on the head and saying 'Job well done'? It all seemed so impossible.
'Maybe this is some kind of joke,' Harry reasoned. 'Maybe Malfoy or someone else just wants me to go prancing into the Ministry, asking where the Defense Agency is and where my office will be.'
And just as Harry said it, he began to believe it. If he actually did go there, he'd be laughed out of the wizarding world. It had taken long enough to convince them he had all his marbles, and he didn't plan to rock the broomstick now. Stubbornly ripping the parchment in two, Harry decided he would not be made a fool of.
He was so engrossed in the first letter, and so angry at the dirty trick someone had obviously played on him, that it took awhile for Harry to notice the tiny owl zooming around his head. Looking up, Harry recognized it as Pigwidgeon, and gave him a pat on the head while he tried to decipher Ron's unsightly scrawl.
**Dear Harry,
Hi! Dad told me about your internship at the Ministry. Great job, mate! And since you can't exactly get to and from the Ministry with the Muggles around, Dad said you could stay here for the rest of the summer. We'll pick you up on Monday.
P.S. I got my OWL results - 6 O.W.L.S. Mum freaked about the 'T' in Divination though, and said that trolls don't get any desert. Fred and George were proud, though.**
Ron's letter cheered Harry up a bit. He found it difficult to believe that anyone would impersonate Ron to trick him, and he felt slightly silly believing his internship was fake to begin with.
'I'm getting to be more paranoid than Mad-Eye Moody,' Harry sighed.
Besides, Ron seemed to think being an intern was a good thing. Surely not everyone in the Ministry had a stick up the old posterior like Percy? Maybe he would be working with the Aurors -it would be nice to see Tonks and maybe Lupin again.
But the thing that finally decided it for him was the prospect of getting away from the Dursleys - and going back to the Burrow - a whole month earlier than expected. He quickly scribbled an 'Okay, I'll be ready,' and 'I got 6 O.W.L.S too,' on the back of the parchment and put it in Pigwidgeon's beak.
Watching Pig fly away into the sunset, Harry beamed. Ron was proud of him. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone proud of him. It's not exactly like he could run to the Dursleys and expect them to clap him on the back for getting good O.W.L.S and an internship. He'd be more likely to expect a thump on the head for disturbing them.
But Sirius would be proud . . .
The angry, guilty feeling Harry was so used to now reappeared. Harry tried to push it back, steeling himself to check the last letter. A handsome eagle owl, one that Harry didn't recognize, was the bearer this time. It read:
**Hullo Harry,
I must say, I didn't expect you ever to owl me, but yes, I've been having a great summer. Dad and I just got back from a safari. We spotted two Purple-Horned Man Eaters (don't worry, we had goonberries with us - the Purple-Horned Man Eaters are violently allergic to those)! Dad can't wait to write it up in the Quibbler.
But now to the point. Harry, it's quite normal to think about Sirius now that he's gone. When my mum died, I felt like I had sunk into the bottom of the ocean and I would never surface again. I was sad and hurting, angry and annoyed, but somehow I pulled through.
Sometimes I still see her. Well, not really her, but signs of her, and I know she's watching. The chime of a bell, the song of a bird, even an unexpected shadow proves that I'm not alone.
But I was lucky in that I had my father to talk to. He would tell my stories about my mum, and we'd talk about our favorite things about her. I can still remember the way that she smells, the way she smiles, the way she shrieked when she found my Rhino-Gnome in her garden.**
**************
There was more to the letter, but Harry couldn't finish it. How could he? He had almost forgotten the way Sirius smelled, and smiled, and . . .well, Sirius didn't exactly shriek, but he did get pretty angry whenever he dealt with Snape. His common sense told him that it was okay he didn't remember how Sirius smelt or smiled; the truth was, he usually smelt pretty bad, especially when he was on the run, and he hardly ever smiled. But, as those who are under stress are wont to do, Harry ignored his common sense.
'How could I have forgotten Sirius so much? I think about him every day, and yet - I don't remember.'
Harry stuck his head into his trunk and once again pulled out his two-way- mirror, this time accompanied by the useless melted knife (Harry had stubbornly kept it) that Sirius had given him for Christmas, and some old letters his godfather had written him. This was all he had left of his Sirius. Would these too be forgotten one day?
Sitting down at his desk, Harry took a new piece of parchment and wrote.
Dear Luna, I know what you mean. It's hard to not feel mad or guilty about Sirius' death. I remember one time ------
****
Harry wrote into the night, trying to remember everything about Sirius he could and relaying it to Luna. He couldn't let his godfather be forgotten, and while writing it to Luna might be a poor repayment for everything Sirius had done for him, it was the best he could think of.
He wasn't sure how, but he knew Luna would understand his need to get everything out, and everything was a lot - almost 3 rolls of parchment. Harry's thoughts strayed to Snape's Growth Potions essay momentarily, thinking that having the Purpled-Horn Man Eater might come in handy in some situations. But, just as quickly, his attention returned to Luna, and he scanned the rest of her letter. He was glad she didn't think it was odd that he owling her all of the sudden. She was surprised, yes, but he guessed it took a lot more than an unexpected owl to astonish Luna.
In fact, Harry thought, her response had turned out to be a lot more insightful than he had expected. She didn't lather on any false sympathy, or try to give Harry any knowledgeable advice. She had simply related her feelings to Harry, as one grieving human being to another.
As it was now late, Harry began to clean up. He attached his letter to the eagle owl's leg (it was so long it weighed him down considerably), and began to put away Sirius' things.
He was tired, so he didn't notice the Dursleys pulling into the driveway after an evening at the theatre. He barely heard Uncle Vernon's guffaws as he relived the evening's festivities, or Dudley's complaints that they had skipped desert. Not that it mattered, because none of these things interested him anyways.
But what would have interested him, if he weren't so tired, was the faint trace of a face that appeared in the two-way mirror as he put it under the portrait of himself Dobby had made him last Christmas. True, Harry had thought that he saw something, but reasoned that it must be his mind playing tricks on him.
"You know what, Hedwig." Harry yawned as he lowered himself into his bed. "Maybe the crazy ones are actually the sanest of us all. Who knows? I never would have thought Luna could be so helpful. Maybe you should try being friends with Pigwidgeon?"
At this, Hedwig hooted impetuously. Harry had had her long enough to know what this meant.
Fat chance.
*****************************************
A/N: I know Lupin isn't exactly an Auror, but he works pretty closely with them, so close enough. Also, please review! I need some encouragement (or some criticism)!