The Space Between

by Windrider

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related indicia are © JK Rowling and publisher's including but not limited to Scholastic Books Inc. and Warner Brothers Inc.

The place: An empty room. Bare except for a table and a brown overstuffed chair where you sit down.

The time: Unknown. There are no clocks or windows, and you cannot see outside.

You know you are waiting for something, though you don't know what. Suddenly there is a bright flash of light. When it fades, you are no longer alone.

There is man standing next to the table on the other side of the room. He has shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes. He is wearing leather trousers, a black tee-shirt and a motorcycle jacket. He looks around, and sees you.

"Oh, I'm glad you're here," he says. His voice is deep. "I wanted to talk to you."

He jumps up onto the table and sits on it.

"Everyone seemed so worried after they read Order of the Phoenix," he says, "I thought I'd give you all a bit of reassurance. I know you're probably a little mad at Mrs. Rowling, but think about it. It's not like I suffered or anything. I just fell through the curtain."

He makes a face, then continues, "And don't blame poor Harry. He went through a lot in that book - not to mention loosing me. It wasn't his fault; he went to save me, not get me killed."

Suddenly his face gets more serious. "I feel sorry for him, though," he says. "And Remus too. Do you realize Remus is the only one of us left? James and Lilly died a long time ago, and now me. Well, Peter -" he spits out this name like it leaves a foul taste in his mouth "-is still there, but he isn't one of us. I don't think he ever really was.

"But I'm not here to slander an ex-friend. He was just weak. Though I don't understand how he could betray his friends like that." His face contorts into an expression of rage, but he gets himself under control.

"At least I get to see James and Lilly again." He sighs. "But I miss Remus so much." He closes his eyes, and a single tear rolls down his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks up again. "Yeah. You were right about that. Congratulations." He smiles sadly.

"Now that I have that over with," he says, "I have a few bones to pick with you."

He puts his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

"Seriously," he says, "I don't smoke. Why can't you get that through your head?" He throws the pack onto the floor and stomps on it. "Those things make me sick."

Then he looks down at his jacket, makes a face, and takes it off. "Okay. Just because I own a motorcycle, doesn't mean I wear these on a regular basis." He throws the jacket into the corner of the room.

He looks down at the trousers. "And these. Come on, now. I'm sure they make me look good, but that doesn't mean I wear them." He starts to unfasten the trousers, then looks up. "Right. Sorry." He fastens them back.

"Anyway..." he stands up. "I have to go. But the next time you write something, make sure you tell Harry that I miss him, and that I'm sorry I never got a chance to be a better godfather. And tell Remus I love him. I think he needs to know that."

There's another flash of light, and when it fades the man is gone.