The Portrait
A/N Again, sorry about the long wait. This chapter is pretty short, so I'm going to try to write some tonight. Can't make any promises, though. I'll update as soon as I can.
Harry felt the familiar jerking sensation-which made it hard to keep a hold of the trunk-and found himself in the foyer of the Black house moments later. He immediately felt his chest begin burn and his throat felt as if it was tied in a knot. It was almost exactly the same as when he was last here. When he last saw Sirius here.
It had the same dark, dank feeling, almost foreboding feeling. There were still skulls and snakes all over, adorning the doors and chandeliers and such. Something was different, though. Though Sirius wasn't in his house, lots of other people were. All sorts of people were walking around, talking, writing things down, coming, leaving, and welcoming Harry. In addition to the choking memory of his godfather, all of these witches and wizards were making his head spin.
Seeing the look on Harry's face, Lupin said: "Since Voldemort has gone public, a lot more people have decided to help us." Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead he emitted this odd sound somewhere between a choke and a squeak.
Then a rather tall witch with curly, dirty-blonde hair and bright red robes that highlighted the blemishes in her face came up and whispered something into Lupin's ear. He scowled and stood up a little taller, then turned to Harry.
"I've got to go Harry. You've got a new room. Lorali will show you the way." He said, then motioned to the rest of Harry's guard plus a few others and left.
"I'm Lorali MacDurid." Said the woman in the red robes and held out a hand for Harry to shake.
"I'm Harry Potter." He said unenthusiastically as he shook it.
"Obviously." She said and chuckled. She couldn't have been more than twenty- two years old. "They don't talk about much other than you around here."
"Oh, yeah?" He replied as he heaved at his trunk. "What do they say about me?" Though he was pretty sure he knew what.
"Let me get that." She said then muttered "Wingardium Leviosa!" under her breath and the trunk lifted its self off the ground. "Just things like 'Harry Potter must be watched at all times.', 'It is of the utmost importance that Harry Potter be kept safe and well at all costs.', 'Harry Potter was grabbed by the collar by his uncle this morning at approximately 5:37 A.M.', 'Harry Potter blinked 1,423 times yesterday.', 'Harry Potter had burnt toast and milk for breakfast.', 'Harry Potter will wear an extra- extra-extra large orange hand-me-down polo next Tuesday'. You know; all of that really important stuff." She said in an obnoxious voice filled with sarcasm and crossed eyes. She turned around and smirked at Harry, who snorted in reply. At least by the sound of it they weren't talking about all of that unimportant stuff, like the fact that he would someday be the one to either conquer Voldemort or die at his hands.
"Occasionally we'll talk about what old You-Know-Who has been up to or what he's supposed to do next." She said as they mounted the third staircase. Harry noticed the growing amounts of cobwebs and dust as they ascended further up.
"What is he expected to do next?" He asked in what he hoped sounded like a casual voice.
She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, turned around and frowned. "I can't tell you that." Then continued to climb the stairs.
"Good." Harry thought. "I bet I could work some information out of her.too bad I won't be here to try." He reminded himself.
Just then they reached the final landing, but there was no door. He was about to say something, when Lorali reached up towards the ceiling with her free hand and pulled on a little handle, which pulled a trap door down along with it. A sliding ladder came down and landed with a thud on the ground and caused small clouds of dust rise. She looked down at Harry, then up at the ceiling again and said, "We may have to add a rope or something to the handle." Then she sent his trunk up to the space above the door and gestured for Harry to do the same.
He placed one foot after the other cautiously on the ancient-looking stepladder. When he reached this landing, he found the room to be dusty, but not as much as the rest of that area of the house. The faded blue paint was peeling off of the walls, and there was old, mismatched furniture scattered about, and black-and-white Quidditch posters tacked to the walls that had to be at least twenty-five years old.
Harry walked up to the wooden desk in the corner and ran his finger across its dusty surface. There were old textbooks, Quidditch books, and papers piled up on it. One of the Quidditch books was open and he blew some of the dust off to see more Quidditch players flying about. He opened up a drawer. Inside, there was an old, frail-looking snitch, which flapped its wings slowly a couple of times, allowing Harry enough time to see the letters L.E. scratched into it, before picking up speed and zooming about the room. It was the exact same one he had seen in the Penseive about a half a year ago.
"I'll be going now." Said Loreli from the door, but Harry hardly noticed. His eyes followed the snitch for a few moments until it landed on a large, half-open armoire with what looked like claw marks all over it. He went over to it, and opened the door all of the way. There were old Hogwarts robes, faded scarves and gloves, everyday robes, tattered shoes, and even a few more Quidditch posters thrown about it.
He turned to his side to find a bed with the faded red comforter still bunched up at the footboard as if someone had just crawled out of it. He looked up at the wall, which the bed was up against to see nearly the entire wall covered with old photos. They were several of Sirius and girls Harry didn't know; some of Hogwarts Quidditch matches; lots of James, Lupin, Sirius, and Peter in and around Hogwarts; some of James and Lily; one or two of Snape with pink hair; one of Sirius and James at what he supposed was the International Quidditch Cup; and, at the very top, one of Harry at the congratulations party last year for Ron and Hermione with Sirius.
Harry tuned about the room, emotions flooding over him. At one point, he noticed something he hadn't before. In the corner of the room there was an easel with a couple of half-finished canvases leaning up against the wall and a small one on the easel its self. As he drew nearer, he began to recognize the subject of the nearly done portrait. It was of Sirius himself, and he was looking Harry in the eye and smiling.
A/N: Well, this is obviously Padfoot's old room. His was up in the attic because he was the family reject. Also, there's a picture of Harry in there because I'm pretending like this was Sirius's haven, and he was so bored in that house that he even tried his hand at painting. Sorry about taking so long, also. I've been up to my eyeballs in homework. It'll bury me alive before this year is over.
And if anyone is out there that's read my story but hasn't posted a review, please do so whether you like my story or not. I'd like to know how many people have given it a chance. Thanks.
-Liseli
A/N Again, sorry about the long wait. This chapter is pretty short, so I'm going to try to write some tonight. Can't make any promises, though. I'll update as soon as I can.
Harry felt the familiar jerking sensation-which made it hard to keep a hold of the trunk-and found himself in the foyer of the Black house moments later. He immediately felt his chest begin burn and his throat felt as if it was tied in a knot. It was almost exactly the same as when he was last here. When he last saw Sirius here.
It had the same dark, dank feeling, almost foreboding feeling. There were still skulls and snakes all over, adorning the doors and chandeliers and such. Something was different, though. Though Sirius wasn't in his house, lots of other people were. All sorts of people were walking around, talking, writing things down, coming, leaving, and welcoming Harry. In addition to the choking memory of his godfather, all of these witches and wizards were making his head spin.
Seeing the look on Harry's face, Lupin said: "Since Voldemort has gone public, a lot more people have decided to help us." Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead he emitted this odd sound somewhere between a choke and a squeak.
Then a rather tall witch with curly, dirty-blonde hair and bright red robes that highlighted the blemishes in her face came up and whispered something into Lupin's ear. He scowled and stood up a little taller, then turned to Harry.
"I've got to go Harry. You've got a new room. Lorali will show you the way." He said, then motioned to the rest of Harry's guard plus a few others and left.
"I'm Lorali MacDurid." Said the woman in the red robes and held out a hand for Harry to shake.
"I'm Harry Potter." He said unenthusiastically as he shook it.
"Obviously." She said and chuckled. She couldn't have been more than twenty- two years old. "They don't talk about much other than you around here."
"Oh, yeah?" He replied as he heaved at his trunk. "What do they say about me?" Though he was pretty sure he knew what.
"Let me get that." She said then muttered "Wingardium Leviosa!" under her breath and the trunk lifted its self off the ground. "Just things like 'Harry Potter must be watched at all times.', 'It is of the utmost importance that Harry Potter be kept safe and well at all costs.', 'Harry Potter was grabbed by the collar by his uncle this morning at approximately 5:37 A.M.', 'Harry Potter blinked 1,423 times yesterday.', 'Harry Potter had burnt toast and milk for breakfast.', 'Harry Potter will wear an extra- extra-extra large orange hand-me-down polo next Tuesday'. You know; all of that really important stuff." She said in an obnoxious voice filled with sarcasm and crossed eyes. She turned around and smirked at Harry, who snorted in reply. At least by the sound of it they weren't talking about all of that unimportant stuff, like the fact that he would someday be the one to either conquer Voldemort or die at his hands.
"Occasionally we'll talk about what old You-Know-Who has been up to or what he's supposed to do next." She said as they mounted the third staircase. Harry noticed the growing amounts of cobwebs and dust as they ascended further up.
"What is he expected to do next?" He asked in what he hoped sounded like a casual voice.
She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, turned around and frowned. "I can't tell you that." Then continued to climb the stairs.
"Good." Harry thought. "I bet I could work some information out of her.too bad I won't be here to try." He reminded himself.
Just then they reached the final landing, but there was no door. He was about to say something, when Lorali reached up towards the ceiling with her free hand and pulled on a little handle, which pulled a trap door down along with it. A sliding ladder came down and landed with a thud on the ground and caused small clouds of dust rise. She looked down at Harry, then up at the ceiling again and said, "We may have to add a rope or something to the handle." Then she sent his trunk up to the space above the door and gestured for Harry to do the same.
He placed one foot after the other cautiously on the ancient-looking stepladder. When he reached this landing, he found the room to be dusty, but not as much as the rest of that area of the house. The faded blue paint was peeling off of the walls, and there was old, mismatched furniture scattered about, and black-and-white Quidditch posters tacked to the walls that had to be at least twenty-five years old.
Harry walked up to the wooden desk in the corner and ran his finger across its dusty surface. There were old textbooks, Quidditch books, and papers piled up on it. One of the Quidditch books was open and he blew some of the dust off to see more Quidditch players flying about. He opened up a drawer. Inside, there was an old, frail-looking snitch, which flapped its wings slowly a couple of times, allowing Harry enough time to see the letters L.E. scratched into it, before picking up speed and zooming about the room. It was the exact same one he had seen in the Penseive about a half a year ago.
"I'll be going now." Said Loreli from the door, but Harry hardly noticed. His eyes followed the snitch for a few moments until it landed on a large, half-open armoire with what looked like claw marks all over it. He went over to it, and opened the door all of the way. There were old Hogwarts robes, faded scarves and gloves, everyday robes, tattered shoes, and even a few more Quidditch posters thrown about it.
He turned to his side to find a bed with the faded red comforter still bunched up at the footboard as if someone had just crawled out of it. He looked up at the wall, which the bed was up against to see nearly the entire wall covered with old photos. They were several of Sirius and girls Harry didn't know; some of Hogwarts Quidditch matches; lots of James, Lupin, Sirius, and Peter in and around Hogwarts; some of James and Lily; one or two of Snape with pink hair; one of Sirius and James at what he supposed was the International Quidditch Cup; and, at the very top, one of Harry at the congratulations party last year for Ron and Hermione with Sirius.
Harry tuned about the room, emotions flooding over him. At one point, he noticed something he hadn't before. In the corner of the room there was an easel with a couple of half-finished canvases leaning up against the wall and a small one on the easel its self. As he drew nearer, he began to recognize the subject of the nearly done portrait. It was of Sirius himself, and he was looking Harry in the eye and smiling.
A/N: Well, this is obviously Padfoot's old room. His was up in the attic because he was the family reject. Also, there's a picture of Harry in there because I'm pretending like this was Sirius's haven, and he was so bored in that house that he even tried his hand at painting. Sorry about taking so long, also. I've been up to my eyeballs in homework. It'll bury me alive before this year is over.
And if anyone is out there that's read my story but hasn't posted a review, please do so whether you like my story or not. I'd like to know how many people have given it a chance. Thanks.
-Liseli