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Chapter Two
He had always grieved for his parents, the loss that was always with him, but at least he was consoled with the fact that now they were watching him, and they were in peace. But his grief over Sirius's death was too overwhelming. How could he go back to regular life when Sirius's face haunted him even in his dreams. Three nights would not go by peacefully without his recurring nightmare.
In the nightmare, he was engulfed in this mist that seemed to stretch everywhere around him. He was looking for Sirius, expecting him to come up behind him any moment, his face stretched into his usual, wide grin, crinkling his face.
Hours went by as Harry kept searching for him, arms outstretched, listening closely to any sound, in case the maker of the sound was Sirius. But there was no sound; nothing at all. Soon Harry would began to feel the eerie silence. It was creeping up on him, making his heart beat faster and faster. He kept lashing at the thin cloud around him, hoping to grope Sirius's hand, but nothing came. He was all alone. Then he heard a voice. Some nights, the voice was pleading; some nights it was screaming with fright, trying to hold on to a world that was; some nights the voice was just tired, not knowing whether someone would come to the rescue. But every time he had the dream, there was something same about the voice. It never failed to chill Harry to the bone, to make him gasp for his breath. He then ran to the source of the sound.
He came upon a dark chasm. If the mist had made it difficult for him to see, then the abyss was like big dark hole, where no light went in and none came out. He kept edging closer to see inside, careful not to step into the abyss where no reality existed. Then he heard the sound again, this time from across him. He saw Sirius falling inside the chasm, his arms behind him, surprise on his face. Harry lunged after him; he was falling too. Blackness surrounded him, engulfing him. His eyes saw dark-he felt dark, just a mass of some dark flesh. He kept falling and falling, losing his mind and his senses, he kept falling until-
This is when Harry would wake up, cold sweat breaking out on his face and neck. His breathing was heavy and loud and he was afraid the neighbours would hear him. For the first few times the dream came to him, he would ram on his glasses and look down his body, making sure everything was there, not just a dark hole. But later on, he didn't bother, knowing it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he was just a big, black mound of flesh. The only thing that mattered was that he didn't get to Sirius in time, didn't save him.
It wasn't unusual for Harry to get nightmares. He'd gotten them his whole life. Last year he had had recurring nightmares about what happened after the Triwizard Tournament: Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth. He had also seen nightmares of him going down a series of halls, opening door after door. Every time he remembered that, he cursed himself. Why hadn't he been strong enough to resist Voldemort prying into his mind. It was because of him that Sirius died, no matter what anyone said.
Tonight Harry had woken up with a sick feeling in his stomach. He would be going back to Hogwarts in a month. How would he walk the halls without having the sick feeling that this is where Sirius had once walked with his father, and would never walk those halls again because of him. How would he sit in the Common Room, glancing in the fireplace, knowing Sirius's head would not be popping up in the fire ever again, as it had just only months ago. No, he wouldn't be able to forget.
Slowly, careful not to wake Aunt Petunia from her beauty sleep (as if it had done any wonders for her, well, ever), he walked over to his trunk. Kneeling down, he opened the lid, and took out his parent's wedding album. As he looked over the pages, his father and mother waved and smiled to him. Sirius was in some of the pictures, his long black hair cut below his ears back them, a smile splayed on his face. He hardly ever waved. He just struck a pose, the corners of his face turned up in a sly smile. Harry chuckled in spite of himself. Sirius had always been ready for attention, always acting like a daredevil, a partner in crime with James Potter. The chuckle soon turned into sobs, and Harry tried uselessly to fight back tears.
A rustle came through the open windows, and Harry turned to see Hedwig fly into the room. Thank goodness his aunt and uncle were to slow to remember that what Harry had told them about Hedwig coming home during the day had to be a lie, since owls slept in the day. He strode over to her cage, where she perched, waiting to be relieved of her parcel. As he untied the string around her leg, she nipped affectionately at his finger. Harry sighed. She was the only friend he had here at Privet Drive, away from his real home, Hogwarts. Not wanting to wallow in self-pity, Harry quickly tore at the plain brown paper covering the parcel. As he opened the package, a paper sailed down on the ground. Bending, he picked it up. It was from his friend, Ron Weasly. Hastily scrawled on the paper, was written:
"Dear Harry, Hi, mate. I hope you received my parcel with the cake for your birthday, as well as my present. Guess what, Dad is getting a raise at the ministry. Everyone in the family is happy, except for Percy. He seems to have something stuck up his- woops; Mum was about to read over my shoulder just now. Even though she doesn't mention him anymore, we all know she still misses Percy. I reckon she would have gone to his apartment and tried to make up with him if it wasn't for the fact that he left breaking all ties with us because of his being ashamed of Dad. He's just a stuck-up-snot- filled-empty-headed piece of jerk.
So how's life with the Muggles. I hope they're not giving you any trouble. If so, I can always have Dad come over and threaten them. He's still trying to work out the tell-a-fone, so he wont' be able to talk to them with it. Anyways, Mum's dying here, waiting for you to come. So are Fred and George, though I reckon its 'cause they need more dummies for their tests. Didya know, they invented this toffee that after every thirty seconds shoots out fireworks from the person's mouth. Its wicked, but Mum won't let me try it. Something about safety.
So Harry, when are you comin' down to The Burrow? If you come soon, we'll have a whole month. Herms is also coming soon. Fred and George are still here, and so is Bill. Charlie says he'll come too, soon. Waiting for your letter. Write soon. Send the message with Hedwig. I can't send any messages with Pig, he's too damn slow and useless. He flies halfway across the room and flops down on the bed.
P.S. The parcel is a Honeydukes cake. Know you don't get enough to eat, especially with the whale in your house on a diet. Come soon.
Your impatient friend,
Ron
Harry smiled. A letter from either of his friends, Hagrid, Lupin or Tonks always brought a smile to his face. It told him that they didn't blame him or hate him for Sirius's death. Besides, they were his only connection to his world, a world he ached to belong to again.
Harry grinned through his pain. Yes he was going to the Burrow, soon. Very soon. But when? And how? Harry tried to work his plan out as he climbed into bed. Soon, he as sleeping, carelessly, without a single dream or nightmare to disturb him.
Chapter Two
He had always grieved for his parents, the loss that was always with him, but at least he was consoled with the fact that now they were watching him, and they were in peace. But his grief over Sirius's death was too overwhelming. How could he go back to regular life when Sirius's face haunted him even in his dreams. Three nights would not go by peacefully without his recurring nightmare.
In the nightmare, he was engulfed in this mist that seemed to stretch everywhere around him. He was looking for Sirius, expecting him to come up behind him any moment, his face stretched into his usual, wide grin, crinkling his face.
Hours went by as Harry kept searching for him, arms outstretched, listening closely to any sound, in case the maker of the sound was Sirius. But there was no sound; nothing at all. Soon Harry would began to feel the eerie silence. It was creeping up on him, making his heart beat faster and faster. He kept lashing at the thin cloud around him, hoping to grope Sirius's hand, but nothing came. He was all alone. Then he heard a voice. Some nights, the voice was pleading; some nights it was screaming with fright, trying to hold on to a world that was; some nights the voice was just tired, not knowing whether someone would come to the rescue. But every time he had the dream, there was something same about the voice. It never failed to chill Harry to the bone, to make him gasp for his breath. He then ran to the source of the sound.
He came upon a dark chasm. If the mist had made it difficult for him to see, then the abyss was like big dark hole, where no light went in and none came out. He kept edging closer to see inside, careful not to step into the abyss where no reality existed. Then he heard the sound again, this time from across him. He saw Sirius falling inside the chasm, his arms behind him, surprise on his face. Harry lunged after him; he was falling too. Blackness surrounded him, engulfing him. His eyes saw dark-he felt dark, just a mass of some dark flesh. He kept falling and falling, losing his mind and his senses, he kept falling until-
This is when Harry would wake up, cold sweat breaking out on his face and neck. His breathing was heavy and loud and he was afraid the neighbours would hear him. For the first few times the dream came to him, he would ram on his glasses and look down his body, making sure everything was there, not just a dark hole. But later on, he didn't bother, knowing it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he was just a big, black mound of flesh. The only thing that mattered was that he didn't get to Sirius in time, didn't save him.
It wasn't unusual for Harry to get nightmares. He'd gotten them his whole life. Last year he had had recurring nightmares about what happened after the Triwizard Tournament: Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth. He had also seen nightmares of him going down a series of halls, opening door after door. Every time he remembered that, he cursed himself. Why hadn't he been strong enough to resist Voldemort prying into his mind. It was because of him that Sirius died, no matter what anyone said.
Tonight Harry had woken up with a sick feeling in his stomach. He would be going back to Hogwarts in a month. How would he walk the halls without having the sick feeling that this is where Sirius had once walked with his father, and would never walk those halls again because of him. How would he sit in the Common Room, glancing in the fireplace, knowing Sirius's head would not be popping up in the fire ever again, as it had just only months ago. No, he wouldn't be able to forget.
Slowly, careful not to wake Aunt Petunia from her beauty sleep (as if it had done any wonders for her, well, ever), he walked over to his trunk. Kneeling down, he opened the lid, and took out his parent's wedding album. As he looked over the pages, his father and mother waved and smiled to him. Sirius was in some of the pictures, his long black hair cut below his ears back them, a smile splayed on his face. He hardly ever waved. He just struck a pose, the corners of his face turned up in a sly smile. Harry chuckled in spite of himself. Sirius had always been ready for attention, always acting like a daredevil, a partner in crime with James Potter. The chuckle soon turned into sobs, and Harry tried uselessly to fight back tears.
A rustle came through the open windows, and Harry turned to see Hedwig fly into the room. Thank goodness his aunt and uncle were to slow to remember that what Harry had told them about Hedwig coming home during the day had to be a lie, since owls slept in the day. He strode over to her cage, where she perched, waiting to be relieved of her parcel. As he untied the string around her leg, she nipped affectionately at his finger. Harry sighed. She was the only friend he had here at Privet Drive, away from his real home, Hogwarts. Not wanting to wallow in self-pity, Harry quickly tore at the plain brown paper covering the parcel. As he opened the package, a paper sailed down on the ground. Bending, he picked it up. It was from his friend, Ron Weasly. Hastily scrawled on the paper, was written:
"Dear Harry, Hi, mate. I hope you received my parcel with the cake for your birthday, as well as my present. Guess what, Dad is getting a raise at the ministry. Everyone in the family is happy, except for Percy. He seems to have something stuck up his- woops; Mum was about to read over my shoulder just now. Even though she doesn't mention him anymore, we all know she still misses Percy. I reckon she would have gone to his apartment and tried to make up with him if it wasn't for the fact that he left breaking all ties with us because of his being ashamed of Dad. He's just a stuck-up-snot- filled-empty-headed piece of jerk.
So how's life with the Muggles. I hope they're not giving you any trouble. If so, I can always have Dad come over and threaten them. He's still trying to work out the tell-a-fone, so he wont' be able to talk to them with it. Anyways, Mum's dying here, waiting for you to come. So are Fred and George, though I reckon its 'cause they need more dummies for their tests. Didya know, they invented this toffee that after every thirty seconds shoots out fireworks from the person's mouth. Its wicked, but Mum won't let me try it. Something about safety.
So Harry, when are you comin' down to The Burrow? If you come soon, we'll have a whole month. Herms is also coming soon. Fred and George are still here, and so is Bill. Charlie says he'll come too, soon. Waiting for your letter. Write soon. Send the message with Hedwig. I can't send any messages with Pig, he's too damn slow and useless. He flies halfway across the room and flops down on the bed.
P.S. The parcel is a Honeydukes cake. Know you don't get enough to eat, especially with the whale in your house on a diet. Come soon.
Your impatient friend,
Ron
Harry smiled. A letter from either of his friends, Hagrid, Lupin or Tonks always brought a smile to his face. It told him that they didn't blame him or hate him for Sirius's death. Besides, they were his only connection to his world, a world he ached to belong to again.
Harry grinned through his pain. Yes he was going to the Burrow, soon. Very soon. But when? And how? Harry tried to work his plan out as he climbed into bed. Soon, he as sleeping, carelessly, without a single dream or nightmare to disturb him.