Chapter One
An Unexpected Letter
As dusk fell on Privet Drive, the air seemed to give a sigh of relief as the daytime sounds of cars and people going to and fro faded. As lights came on in the houses, the fluttering of window curtains trying to catch the breeze gave the illusion of a twinkling starscape. At Number Four, one light on the upper floor was out. Fifteen (almost sixteen) year old Harry Potter lay on his bed brooding like he had been doing for almost a month. He rarely left his room these days, except for meals. His relatives, the Dursleys, were quite content with this arrangement, as Harry was almost a non-existent entity to them. They left him alone, and he did the same to them.
Strangely, though, there was one person in the house who did show some interest in his well being. Every once in a while, especially when there was no one around, his Aunt Petunia would, timidly, ask how he was doing, and even try to talk to him about his feelings. Harry felt that this behavior was motivated by more than Professor Moody's threat to Uncle Vernon last June after Leaving the Hogwarts Express. Harry's friends had gathered around him to ensure that he was going to be treated well from now on...now that Sirius...he broke away from that thought. These days he did very little thinking of Sirius, or anything else, for that matter. His best friends Ron and Hermione had been constantly writing him all summer, telling him what little they knew about what was going on with the Order of the Phoenix, or how well Fred and George Weasley's joke shop was doing, and constantly asking if he was doing all right. In fact, Professor Remus Lupin, a member of the Order and one of Harry's father's closest friends, had stopped by twice to check on Harry, and had even stayed for a private tea with Aunt Petunia while Dudley and Uncle Vernon were out of the house. Harry, who last year at this time would have been keenly interested in what Professor Lupin and Aunt Petunia would have to talk about, merely mechanically replied to Lupin's enquiries and retreated back to the solace of his room.
On this particular night, Harry was lying on his bed staring out of the window when he saw an unfamiliar owl heading for the house. The owl, a Great Horned Owl, dropped it's delivery on Harry's chest and immediately flew back out of the window. Disinteredtedly, Harry unwrapped the package. Out fell a copy of The Quibbler and a note. Harry set the magazine aside and opened the note. He got as far as "Please don't be angry with me, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to write to you about the death of Sirius BLack" before he crumpled it and hurled it across the room. For a moment, Harry was too angry to do anything. After a while, as his breathing calmed, he picked the note up and began reading again.
Dear Harry
Please don't be angry with me, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to write to you
about the death of Sirius Black. He asked me to tell you about my mother.
I loved her very much, but she always was experinenting with new magic. I felt
she was spending more time with that than with me. One day, I wanted her to play
with me. She said she would after she finished with her experiment. I offered to
help to make it go quicker so I could have a play with her. She asked me to pass
her some blue stuff and pointed to a shelf. I went to the shelf and saw more than
one blue item. I grabbed the nearest one and gave it to her. For the longest time
I blamed myself. After all, I gave her the stuff that killed her. I still have
feelings like that sometimes, when I'm feeling really sad about her. But Dad said
that was how she would have wanted to die, and after all, she didn't notice
that I gave her the wrong stuff. The pain never goes away, Harry, but there are
friends who care for you to help through the hard days. Don't remember how he died,
remember how he lived. I hope this helps, and if you ever want to talk about it,
please write.
Luna Lovegood.
Harry sat thinking about Luna's letter for a long time. He began remembering little things about Sirius, his laugh, his zest for life, the fearless way he jumped into the fight in the Department of Mysteries. And Harry understood that Sirius was a fighter, and that to die fighting to protect Harry, if he had to die, was the way he would have wanted to go. Harry laid back on his bed, took a great shuddering breath, and for the first time since it happened, cried himself to sleep mourning his godfather.
An Unexpected Letter
As dusk fell on Privet Drive, the air seemed to give a sigh of relief as the daytime sounds of cars and people going to and fro faded. As lights came on in the houses, the fluttering of window curtains trying to catch the breeze gave the illusion of a twinkling starscape. At Number Four, one light on the upper floor was out. Fifteen (almost sixteen) year old Harry Potter lay on his bed brooding like he had been doing for almost a month. He rarely left his room these days, except for meals. His relatives, the Dursleys, were quite content with this arrangement, as Harry was almost a non-existent entity to them. They left him alone, and he did the same to them.
Strangely, though, there was one person in the house who did show some interest in his well being. Every once in a while, especially when there was no one around, his Aunt Petunia would, timidly, ask how he was doing, and even try to talk to him about his feelings. Harry felt that this behavior was motivated by more than Professor Moody's threat to Uncle Vernon last June after Leaving the Hogwarts Express. Harry's friends had gathered around him to ensure that he was going to be treated well from now on...now that Sirius...he broke away from that thought. These days he did very little thinking of Sirius, or anything else, for that matter. His best friends Ron and Hermione had been constantly writing him all summer, telling him what little they knew about what was going on with the Order of the Phoenix, or how well Fred and George Weasley's joke shop was doing, and constantly asking if he was doing all right. In fact, Professor Remus Lupin, a member of the Order and one of Harry's father's closest friends, had stopped by twice to check on Harry, and had even stayed for a private tea with Aunt Petunia while Dudley and Uncle Vernon were out of the house. Harry, who last year at this time would have been keenly interested in what Professor Lupin and Aunt Petunia would have to talk about, merely mechanically replied to Lupin's enquiries and retreated back to the solace of his room.
On this particular night, Harry was lying on his bed staring out of the window when he saw an unfamiliar owl heading for the house. The owl, a Great Horned Owl, dropped it's delivery on Harry's chest and immediately flew back out of the window. Disinteredtedly, Harry unwrapped the package. Out fell a copy of The Quibbler and a note. Harry set the magazine aside and opened the note. He got as far as "Please don't be angry with me, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to write to you about the death of Sirius BLack" before he crumpled it and hurled it across the room. For a moment, Harry was too angry to do anything. After a while, as his breathing calmed, he picked the note up and began reading again.
Dear Harry
Please don't be angry with me, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to write to you
about the death of Sirius Black. He asked me to tell you about my mother.
I loved her very much, but she always was experinenting with new magic. I felt
she was spending more time with that than with me. One day, I wanted her to play
with me. She said she would after she finished with her experiment. I offered to
help to make it go quicker so I could have a play with her. She asked me to pass
her some blue stuff and pointed to a shelf. I went to the shelf and saw more than
one blue item. I grabbed the nearest one and gave it to her. For the longest time
I blamed myself. After all, I gave her the stuff that killed her. I still have
feelings like that sometimes, when I'm feeling really sad about her. But Dad said
that was how she would have wanted to die, and after all, she didn't notice
that I gave her the wrong stuff. The pain never goes away, Harry, but there are
friends who care for you to help through the hard days. Don't remember how he died,
remember how he lived. I hope this helps, and if you ever want to talk about it,
please write.
Luna Lovegood.
Harry sat thinking about Luna's letter for a long time. He began remembering little things about Sirius, his laugh, his zest for life, the fearless way he jumped into the fight in the Department of Mysteries. And Harry understood that Sirius was a fighter, and that to die fighting to protect Harry, if he had to die, was the way he would have wanted to go. Harry laid back on his bed, took a great shuddering breath, and for the first time since it happened, cried himself to sleep mourning his godfather.
