AN: Wrote this this morning around 7 and finished at 8:20... I started crying when I wrote the end of it, but I think that's just because I just finished the book the other day so I'm still depressed over it. And I'll just mention that the owl is one I used in another HP fic that I recently took down and haven't had time to re-upload yet... ^-^ And also, there will be one more of these at least, maybe more depending on reviews/requests... Anyway, please R&R
Warnings: Angst
Disclaimer: Like I've said before, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me
Posted: June 25, 2003
"Come on, you can do better than that!" taunted Sirius Black, his voice echoing around the room. His eyes widened in shock as a streak of light struck his chest and he began to fall. Time seemed to slow down as he fell backward, his eyes moving around the room to look at his friends, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix – Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin - before coming to rest briefly on his godson, Harry Potter.
Glimpses of his life flashed before his eyes; his years at Hogwarts, his many adventures with the Marauders, James and Lily's wedding, his years in Azkaban, meeting his godson, up to the present. He knew what was happening, but he didn't want to leave; he was afraid to. He tried to catch himself on something, anything, but it was too late, as everyone before him disappeared behind a veil as he faintly heard Harry calling his name.
"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!!" cried Harry, fighting against Remus Lupin, who had caught him at the bottom of the stairs leading to the dais.
"He can't come back, Harry," he heard Remus say, his voice breaking. "He can't come back because he's d-"
But Harry was having none of it. "HE – IS – NOT – DEAD! SIRIUS!!" he cried again. And then he was being pulled away, away from the dais, away from the veil, and away from his godfather.
Harry sat up in bed, shivering from a permeating cold even though he was tangled in his blankets. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he moved to lean against the headboard. Pulling his legs up, he wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his knees as he gazed out the window.
It had been a mere week since he had returned to the Dursley's for the summer, and he had had the same dream, or one close to it, every night, his subconscious reliving that fateful moment when Siri-
He glanced away from the window, breaking that train of thought; he still couldn't admit it to himself. He glanced around the room, his eyes coming to rest on his trunk. Inside, he knew, lay the broken pieces of the mirror Sirius had given him so many months before; the mirror that he could have used to prevent any of the events that occurred in the Department of Mysteries from happening.
If only he had remembered the mirror sooner, if only he had learned and used Occlumency, if only he had listened to Hermione, if only he had thought rationally, if only... So many 'if only's'... Maybe if he had done just one of them, he could have saved Sirius... He clenched a fist at that thought.
He was pulled out of his reverie at a light tapping on his window and glanced over to find a silvery owl with amethyst eyes staring in at him, perched upon his window sill and waiting patiently with a letter tied to her foot. Reaching over, he unlatched the window and let it swing in enough for the owl to fly through and land delicately upon his knee, holding up the leg the letter was tied to. He obligingly untied it before gently stroking the bird's breast.
"Wonder where you came from?" he said quietly.
The owl trilled softly at him, nibbled his hand lightly, and took off out the window, blending in with the early morning light.
Harry watched until she disappeared from sight before glancing down at the envelope in his hand. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, he opened it, unfolded the letter within, and began reading.
Dear Harry,
If you're reading this, it most likely means that I am gone. Kind of a shame really, since no more women will be able to swoon over my good looks.
Sorry, that was probably uncalled for at the moment wasn't it...?
I'm not really sure why I'm writing this... probably because, knowing me, I got killed doing something brash – just like how James always said I would go; which means I didn't have time to ever talk to you about some things, or say goodbye...
I'm writing this over the Christmas break, since for the first time in I don't know how long, I feel like doing something productive. I've been held indoors for so long, first in Azkaban, and now here... It's eating at me; I feel I should be out doing something. I would rather go back to my time in hiding after my escape than stay here a moment longer... That, I suppose, was one of the reasons for my early demise, wasn't it...?
I hope you're not blaming yourself for it. Even if we were coming to your rescue, you couldn't have foreseen it, and surely couldn't have prevented it, no matter how powerful you are...
I'm sure by now Dumbledore's finally let you see your prophecy... It's overwhelming isn't it? And somehow it seems unfair. Just because of your date of birth and a requirement concerning your parents, you were handed over this huge responsibility to carry the fate of the World... Even put in simpler terms – kill or be killed – it seems inequitable.
But at the same time, don't you feel excited when you think about it?
No, probably not... You're not like your father in that area, are you...? I keep seeing him in the things that you do, but I have to keep reminding myself that he's gone, that you're not a reincarnation of James.
I'm sorry for putting that burden on you, even if you didn't see it as one. I kept telling you how much you resembled James, but I never really looked at you for who YOU were: Harry Potter. Not James or Lily, even though you have their blood, but Harry... I guess since I was, in a sense, responsible for their deaths, I kept trying to make sure they lived on somehow...
But no matter what people tell you, no matter what hopes they put on you, or expectations they hold in you... follow the path of your heart. Because no matter what happens, it will always guide you true. I'm being philosophical maybe, but I stand firm in that belief. You've got what it takes; you've only got to believe in yourself.
I guess what I'm trying to say is... I love you, Harry. I'm proud of you, and I know your parents are too, wherever they are watching you from... I have faith that you will survive your Destiny, maybe with a few scars, but alive in the end all the same. And you never know... We may very well see each other again someday...
Take care,
Sirius Black
Harry stared down at the letter, his hand trembling slightly. It was a few moments before he realised there were tears in his eyes, and that not all the splotch marks on the paper were long ago dried, that some of them were fresh.
He choked back a sob as he set the letter on his nightstand before wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face in them. And for the first time since Sirius' death, he wept.