Chapter 2
The Converselope
Harry was virtually knocked off of his feet. He shakily reached backwards and grabbed his bed. Sinking into the covers, the feelings inside of him descended in a similar manner.
Harry's godfather had been the greatest joy in his life. To finally have family, to have someone with whom he belonged, had been the greatest comfort in the world. Despite never knowing where he was, Harry could always get an owl to and from Sirius, a word of advice or encouragement.
But now Sirius was dead, killed by his vile cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry was left an orphan once more, and now with burdens of the nightmares of Sirius's death. The dreams played over in his head like a horror film: Sirius's expressionless, lifeless body falling off of the dais, never to be seen again, Bellatrix's hysterical laughter, the anger fueling inside of him, and faintly in the distance, Voldemort's cackle and his mother's cry.
And this is why Harry tried to preoccupy himself around the clock.
And that is why Sirius's letter remained unopened in Harry's hands.
The thoughts of Sirius were so overwhelming to Harry. There had been no goodbye, no final discourse between the two. Harry felt like crying for the first time in his life, but he knew that it would be no use.
And so, rather than open the letter, he tossed it aside and lay down.
"Open me please."
Harry bolted up from the bed.
"Who said that?" He whispered, looking frantically around the room.
"Oh me, sir, but please, do unfold me!" the voice pleaded.
Harry thought he was really going insane, which many people had insinuated over the years. "I don't see you. Where are you hiding?"
"Sir, I'm the letter on the edge of the bed!"
Harry reached over to grab the letter gently. Sure enough, a small, pleasant face was on the envelope, smiling gratefully.
"I take it you are Mr. Harry Potter of the attic space, Four Privet Drive?"
"Yes," Harry replied, still baffled. "Um, er, excuse me, but why are you talking to me if you're an envelope?"
"Converselope," the face corrected. "My kind is special, we can learn, perceive, and attain any type of knowledge. That's how I learned to speak. But most importantly, I hold special information that only my addressee can understand."
The face's eyes widened seriously.
"There's a message for you inside."
Harry was fascinated. And confused.
"But Sirius couldn't have sent you," Harry said, forcing himself to swallow. "Sirius isn't-"
"I was sent by Remus Lupin," the envelope supplied. "Converselopes are never actually sent by those who write them. We can only be sent by a mid-man, as Remus Lupin served to do, and only interpreted by the addressee, Mr. Harry Potter."
"How long have you been holding my message?" Harry asked.
"I was recorded nearly a year ago, and I have been sitting on the desk of Remus Lupin for the past six months. He's taught me all I know." The converselope smiled proudly. "Did you know he's a werewolf? Great, fascinating man indeed."
Harry was slowly piercing the puzzle together.
"So only Sirius, Remus and I can understand you when you speak, but only I can understand the message inside?"
"Correct. I'm a normal looking, indestructible envelope that simply won't open to anyone else."
"So after I open you, what happens?"
"Well," the converselope said still smiling as brightly as ever, "if you keep me, I'll hold the message until you die, so you can hear it as many times as you wish. I can only vanish if you die or you wish my message never to be head again. Then I just crumple up and disintegrate."
Harry was a bit put off by the Converselope's steady joyfulness in reference to his demise, but Harry was happy nonetheless. At least he could hear a voice other than the Dursleys'.
"You look just as Remus said you would. Both he and Sirius spoke fondly of you."
Harry placed the envelope on his pillow and sat across from it. "What did they say about me?" He asked.
The converselope's eyes darted back and forth, looking at the pillow.
"This is quite comfortable," it said. "You call these...pillows, am I correct?"
"Yes."
The converselope grinned broadly. "Splendid things. Anyhow, they said you'd be a quiet, lanky, tall boy with black messy hair and bright green eyes that belonged to Lily, your mother. Your hair was your father, James's."
Harry was baffled at this point, but growing used to the idea of an envelope knowing so much.
"Sirius said you were fun, brave, and daring like your father, but Remus said you had gotten a lot of sense from your mother. Oh yes, and that I shouldn't worry if you get upset with me. You'd get upset a lot."
Harry snorted at the last comment but then grinned. "You've made me feel tons better. Let's have a look inside you."
The converselope squealed with glee. "Oh, please do!"
The Converselope
Harry was virtually knocked off of his feet. He shakily reached backwards and grabbed his bed. Sinking into the covers, the feelings inside of him descended in a similar manner.
Harry's godfather had been the greatest joy in his life. To finally have family, to have someone with whom he belonged, had been the greatest comfort in the world. Despite never knowing where he was, Harry could always get an owl to and from Sirius, a word of advice or encouragement.
But now Sirius was dead, killed by his vile cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry was left an orphan once more, and now with burdens of the nightmares of Sirius's death. The dreams played over in his head like a horror film: Sirius's expressionless, lifeless body falling off of the dais, never to be seen again, Bellatrix's hysterical laughter, the anger fueling inside of him, and faintly in the distance, Voldemort's cackle and his mother's cry.
And this is why Harry tried to preoccupy himself around the clock.
And that is why Sirius's letter remained unopened in Harry's hands.
The thoughts of Sirius were so overwhelming to Harry. There had been no goodbye, no final discourse between the two. Harry felt like crying for the first time in his life, but he knew that it would be no use.
And so, rather than open the letter, he tossed it aside and lay down.
"Open me please."
Harry bolted up from the bed.
"Who said that?" He whispered, looking frantically around the room.
"Oh me, sir, but please, do unfold me!" the voice pleaded.
Harry thought he was really going insane, which many people had insinuated over the years. "I don't see you. Where are you hiding?"
"Sir, I'm the letter on the edge of the bed!"
Harry reached over to grab the letter gently. Sure enough, a small, pleasant face was on the envelope, smiling gratefully.
"I take it you are Mr. Harry Potter of the attic space, Four Privet Drive?"
"Yes," Harry replied, still baffled. "Um, er, excuse me, but why are you talking to me if you're an envelope?"
"Converselope," the face corrected. "My kind is special, we can learn, perceive, and attain any type of knowledge. That's how I learned to speak. But most importantly, I hold special information that only my addressee can understand."
The face's eyes widened seriously.
"There's a message for you inside."
Harry was fascinated. And confused.
"But Sirius couldn't have sent you," Harry said, forcing himself to swallow. "Sirius isn't-"
"I was sent by Remus Lupin," the envelope supplied. "Converselopes are never actually sent by those who write them. We can only be sent by a mid-man, as Remus Lupin served to do, and only interpreted by the addressee, Mr. Harry Potter."
"How long have you been holding my message?" Harry asked.
"I was recorded nearly a year ago, and I have been sitting on the desk of Remus Lupin for the past six months. He's taught me all I know." The converselope smiled proudly. "Did you know he's a werewolf? Great, fascinating man indeed."
Harry was slowly piercing the puzzle together.
"So only Sirius, Remus and I can understand you when you speak, but only I can understand the message inside?"
"Correct. I'm a normal looking, indestructible envelope that simply won't open to anyone else."
"So after I open you, what happens?"
"Well," the converselope said still smiling as brightly as ever, "if you keep me, I'll hold the message until you die, so you can hear it as many times as you wish. I can only vanish if you die or you wish my message never to be head again. Then I just crumple up and disintegrate."
Harry was a bit put off by the Converselope's steady joyfulness in reference to his demise, but Harry was happy nonetheless. At least he could hear a voice other than the Dursleys'.
"You look just as Remus said you would. Both he and Sirius spoke fondly of you."
Harry placed the envelope on his pillow and sat across from it. "What did they say about me?" He asked.
The converselope's eyes darted back and forth, looking at the pillow.
"This is quite comfortable," it said. "You call these...pillows, am I correct?"
"Yes."
The converselope grinned broadly. "Splendid things. Anyhow, they said you'd be a quiet, lanky, tall boy with black messy hair and bright green eyes that belonged to Lily, your mother. Your hair was your father, James's."
Harry was baffled at this point, but growing used to the idea of an envelope knowing so much.
"Sirius said you were fun, brave, and daring like your father, but Remus said you had gotten a lot of sense from your mother. Oh yes, and that I shouldn't worry if you get upset with me. You'd get upset a lot."
Harry snorted at the last comment but then grinned. "You've made me feel tons better. Let's have a look inside you."
The converselope squealed with glee. "Oh, please do!"