The Healing Properties of Roots Pt. 3
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Harry knocked softly on the paint-chipped door to Lupin's room. He heard some shuffling and footsteps scraping towards the door, and the slow creak of rusty hinges. Lupin's eyebrows rose in apparent surprise, and he looked unusually timid. "Harry," he said politely, opening the door all the way.
"Can we talk, Professor?"
"Certainly." Lupin stepped aside and Harry walked slowly in the room, looking around. It was dark and gray, with musty curtains around a dirty window and an old bed with a dingy mattress sitting in the corner. A small mirror hung on the wall next to a worn-down dresser. "Cheerful place."
Lupin smiled. "Yes, I should clean it up. Maybe I'll do that this week."
Harry sighed and sat on the mattress, ignoring the loud squeaking of the bed. "Professor, are you alright?"
"I will be if you start calling me Remus and stop calling me 'Professor'."
Harry tried a small smile. "I mean really."
"I'm as well as can be expected." Lupin strode over and took a seat next to Harry. "Actually, Harry, I meant to talk to you tonight."
"If it's about Kreacher, I
already know."
Lupin's forehead furrowed.
"Ron," Harry said simply.
"Ah," Lupin's expression cleared. "Of course. Well, that's not that important, anyway. Actually," he rose and went over to the battered dresser, opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope, "I wanted to give you this." He walked back to the bed and held out the paper. Harry took it cautiously, a sense of dread rising in his throat. "What is it?"
"Well, I'm not sure." Lupin paused for a moment, looking out the grimy window. "It's from Sirius," he said in a clear voice, slightly louder than usual. "I found it on my bed, next to a letter he wrote to me. He must have slipped in here before we headed to… well, anyway, in my letter he asked that I give this to you personally, which is why I didn't send it over the summer."
The envelope shook in Harry's hands. Please, he thought, please tell me something good.
"I don't know what to make of it. He must have… known… something would happen. I don't know." Harry glanced up and saw Lupin's eyes gleaming. "You better go read it."
Harry nodded, got up from the bed and sauntered wordlessly out the door.
Harry, June 5th, '96
Well, if you're reading this, something bad must have happened. So first off, sorry about that. I can't just stay here while Moony and Madeye and even Albus go out and risk their hides for you all. (Bloody dumb children, but we love you anyway.) So, if, god forbid, you are reading this letter, it's only because I thought I could be useful and, well, failed. Perhaps I died a hero's death? That would be brilliant. If I kick it because I ate some bad fish, now, that would just be embarrassing. Anyway, the point is, there's a chance (even if it's small) that something awful may happen tonight and if it does, I want you to know that I went to the Ministry by my choice. Moony and Tonks and all those other ninnies tried to talk me out of it, but, being stubborn as I am, I refused, and insisted on accompanying them. It's what your dad would have done, and that's the legacy I try to live up to, both to honor his memory, and because he was usually right anyway. (Anyway, who wants to be alone in a house with Kreacher?)
So I know this letter seems sort of pointless, but I wanted you to know that though it seems like I'm gone, but I'm not, really. If you need to talk, just let me know, and I'll be there. Maybe you won't be able to see me, but I hope you can feel me. Or, if you're more into actually conversing with someone, give Remus a try. You probably know that he excels in patience, but he's also understanding and good-natured. He's a bit guarded at times, but he's loved you since you were born. Before you were born, if you're being nitpicky about details. If it weren't for the laws against part-humans, Lily and James would named him co-godfather (yes, that is an actual term.)
Can I give you some advice? I'm much older and wiser and all that, so listen here: That Weasley girl? Ginny? Yeah. You're not going to ever do better than her. Tonks just adores her (and Hermione) and we've been hearing about her non-stop. She seems very bright and brave and like a shorter version of your mother, though that analogy may annoy you. And, if I may add, she's quite the looker. (Not that I thought of her like that. I'm old enough to be her father. Or at least her favorite, handsome uncle.) So if you should ever learn that she still fancies you, jump on the opportunity.
Did I ever mention you have Lily's nose? It's almost eerie.
One more thing. A request. Take care of Remus, will you? Just, when you grow up and become all successful and happy and whatnot, check up on him once in a while, just for a chat. I don't want him to ever feel alone again.
So I guess this is the parting. I very well may leave the world tonight, and if I do, it's because I knew what I was risking and took the chance anyway. If you're not willing to sacrifice your life for something, it's a life not worth living.
I reckon it's not too corny to say this, then, eh? Alright. I love you. Very much. I'll see you again someday. I promise.
Sincerely, love, cordially, yours, etc. etc.,
Sirius
Harry reread the letter four times before he looked up.
Soft, clear moonlight was pouring through the open window over Ron's bed and Harry could hear branches swaying in the breeze outside. Tonks had just let out a shriek followed by boisterous laughter in the kitchen downstairs. A cricket was chirping on the windowsill. The door creaked and Ginny stuck her head in. "Harry?"
He turned his head towards her. "Hmm?"
"Mum says tea's ready, if you want any. She said she doubts anyone's really going to sleep tonight, what with you just arriving and all. There are scones from this morning."
"Thanks."
Ginny paused in the doorway. Harry stared at her. The cricket continued to chirp.
"Is there something you want to say?" Ginny asked finally.
"Um." Harry scratched his head. "Sorry I yelled. I was out of line."
Ginny's shoulders relaxed. "That's alright. You were upset."
"Everyone's upset. I'm being selfish."
"Well. Yes, you are. But that's alright."
"I'll stop."
"Okay."
Chirp. Chirp.
"Tea?"
"Yes." He stood, placed the letter under his blankets and walked towards the door. Ginny took a step back so he could pass. He paused, examining her face briefly.
"What?" she asked blankly.
"Nothing. You have your mother's nose, that's all."
He trotted down the stairs, hands in his pockets, whistling brightly. Ginny stood at the doorway of the small bedroom, watching him disappear down the long, narrow stairway. Good lord, she thought. That boy runs hot and cold.
She walked towards the stairs and found herself fighting a smile.