DISCLAIMER: Well obvisiously this is JK Rowling, just testing book six on you......... oh honestly who am I kidding, I own nothing, I am making no money out of this. I'm just a sad little girl who has way too much time on her hands. It would make me and my friend's day if you actually reviewed this. So review... or else!!!!

Chapter 1 – Memories

The hot July day had faded into a clear and warm night, and the village of Little Whinging was peaceful and calm.

The local residents had all retreated into their homes leaving few outside. The full moon shone down on a thin and scruffy looking teenager seated alone in the play park.

The boy was sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying, one foot scraping across the dirt as he did so.

He wore jeans that had torn around the knee and bottoms that were frayed beyond repair, his tee-shirt was baggy and a few holes were beginning to form along the edge, and the boys hair was in a complete mess as if he had just woken up. The boy wore black-rimmed glasses and his one distinguishable feature- a scar- lay hidden beneath his hair.

To all but his family, he was just like the rest of the inhabitants of Little Whinging albeit slightly scruffy and strange, but to those who really knew him, this pale and lanky teenager was the boy who lived. A quiet breeze blew gently through the trees and Harry Potter looked up towards the sky.

Harry stared at the full moon above him and was reminded of Remus Lupin. He remembered the day when he had discovered that the then Professor was a werewolf. It was also the day when he had discovered that the so called mass-murderer Sirius Black, his godfather, was innocent.

Harry sighed and dropped his head as unwanted memories began to fill his mind. Harry had still not come to terms with the death of his godfather, he felt like he had lost the last link to his parents. He had Aunt Petunia of course, but she barely acknowledged Harry's own existence, let alone mention his parents.

Harry had wanted to know so much more about his parent's life at Hogwarts but he never had the chance to ask Sirius before ... before.

'There's nothing you can do, Harry...nothing...he's gone.'

Harry couldn't even bare to think about it anymore, he got up and slowly made his way back towards Privet Drive.

He turned out of the park gate and into Magnolia Road. He noticed that the grass had returned to its fresh green colour after last year's drought had left it yellow and dying.

In the distance Harry heard the familiar noises of drunken teenagers, as they slowly came nearer Harry quickened his steps. He didn't want to risk meeting a drunken Dudley and his gang, especially not when he was feeling like this.

Harry continued into Magnolia Crescent, he maintained his pace so he didn't have to deal with his rowdy cousin. Harry turned right almost without thinking and stopped suddenly. Without realising it he now stood at the beginning of the alleyway that led to Wisteria Walk, the same alleyway where he had first spotted his godfather.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to banish the thoughts of Sirius that now began to seep into his mind. Harry closed his eyes but soon discovered that was a mistake as images of Sirius' final moments invaded his vision.

'SIRIUS! SIRIUS!'

He snapped his eyes open and hurriedly made his way down the dark alleyway. He paused and moved his hand over the rough surface of the fence just to the side of him. His thoughts turned to that night, and every night since then.

He hadn't slept in weeks; his green eyes were now rimmed with dark circles and his face was becoming pale and sickly looking. A loud crash knocked him from his thoughts; he looked back up the dim alleyway and spotted through the darkness his large cousin and his gang drunkenly banging dustbin lids together.

He could not hear their conversation but soon he could hear Dudley ambling up the alleyway behind him. Harry ran the rest of the way back to Privet Drive, and slowly approached number four.

As he reached number four Privet Drive he knocked on the door and Uncle Vernon answered, he hardly noticed Harry was there and he left the door open and went back into the living room. Harry could here the sound of the TV as he climbed the stairs and turned into his room, his sanctuary.

Harry collapsed onto his bed and buried his head into the pillows in an attempt to block the memories from resurfacing. He had enough trouble dealing with the pain, without the actual memories being dragged out of him as well.

As he turned over to lie on his back Harry could hear Dudley knocking on the front door downstairs and wondered if the Dursleys would even notice that he had quite obviously been drinking. Harry lay in silence and listened to the sound of his own breathing, he watched his chest rise and fall before he slowly raised himself from the bed and walked over to the window.

Harry watched the trees dance in the breeze, the lamp posts across the street illuminating small areas like spotlights on a stage, the dark night's sky full of twinkling stars. He stood there for about an hour before settling back on the bed.

He found it increasingly difficult to stay in one place for a continuous amount of time before thoughts of Sirius began to creep into his head.

He tapped his fingers against his legs and looked around aimlessly in search of something to do, his eyes scanned the room and finally came to rest on his trunk, which lay, tucked away in the corner.

Harry needed something to take his mind off...Sirius, just thinking about him made him feel guilty and empty, so Harry took the first book he came to out of his trunk.

Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, the book Sirius had given to him for Christmas.

'Oh great.' He thought sarcastically.

He traced his fingers over the words and tried to remember that time, that moment, when Sirus had truly been happy.

He smiled as the good memories came flooding back from that last Christmas.

Harry curled up on his bed and pulled his greying blanket over him and started to read in the moonlight.

The smile stayed on his face as he began humming 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs,'

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