"Stop!" Harry shouted. "I saw Sirius!" Harry wasn't aware that he stood up on his feet until the bus took a sharp turn, and he fell to the floor. "Why aren't they stopping?"
"Harry, you didn't see Sirius," Tonks said, pulling him back to his feet. "You only think—"
"DON'T TELL ME I THOUGHT I SAW HIM! I KNOW I SAW HIM!" he shouted, feeling his face heat up. Tonks looked behind her at Moody, who only grumbled and faced the direction of Stan.
Turning around Tonks grabbed Harry's shoulders, backing him up to his seat, and pushed him down to sit. Gazing in to his eyes, she calmly said, "You've got to relax, Harry. I know you miss Sirius—we all do, but he's not coming back. You may have seen a black dog that resembled Sirius, but it wasn't him."
Harry repetitively searched in Tonks's deep violet eyes for meaning towards what she said. He couldn't believe she was saying this. She didn't understand—no one does. She's never lost a parent—let alone two, and now he's lost the one person that felt as much as a parent to him. He wanted to scream all sorts of curses at her and tell her she's wrong, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. Sleep began to overcome him, and she could see it in his eyes. Pulling up the covers over him, she sent him a warm smile and resided back to her seat next to Moody.
Watching the trees and light posts jump out of the way of the Knight Bus and erasing the sinful thoughts that brewed in his mind, Harry slowly slumped out of reality and in to his horrid dreams once more.
The sounds of screaming sirens outside the bedroom window forced Harry to open his eyes and experience the blinding of the noon sun radiating through the window on to Harry's bed. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled the covers off him and slowly made his way to the window. As he peered down at the busy street of London, he noticed Muggles hurrying quickly past each other to conclude their hectic schedules.
Harry turned around to a room he found quite familiar. Hedwig's cage stood perched on the top of a wardrobe next to Pigwidgeon's. Ron's trunk sat in front of a neatly made bed, and Harry's was in front of the one he just woke up out of with his Firebolt perched against the corner of the bedside table and wall.
After pulling out a new set of clothes from his trunk and getting dressed, he walked out in to the hall that achingly brought memories back to him. Every place he looked at made him think about Sirius. He was about to forget about going downstairs and instead find a room to please his longing for isolation, but voices coming from the door to his left erased his current thoughts completely. Leaning in closer to hear who was talking, he breathed slowly as the conversation on the other side of the door continued.
"We've got to tell him," said a girlish voice.
"What do you mean 'we'?" asked the other boyish sounding voice. "You're the one he listens to, why can't you tell him?"
Harry was rather interested in what these two familiar voices had to say, and moved closer to the door.
"Ron, right now Harry needs Iboth of us/I to be with him. He's much more vulnerable now that Sirius…"
"You mention him around Harry and he won't want to be around us at all, Hermione."
"Yes, I know!" she unnoticeably shouted. "We just need to be there for him! Be there for him like he would be there for either of us in our time of need!" Harry heard her begin to sob.
"Hermione, it's okay," Ron comforted.
"No, it's not okay! Nothing is okay, and nothing will be okay!" she cried. Harry couldn't see her, but he could tell by the tone of her voice something troubled her more than Harry himself.
He looked down at the cracks in the floor, and heard Ron ask, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Hermione sniffed. "Lets go see if Harry awake."
Harry heard footsteps walking towards the door and immediately stood upright, searching around the hall and debating whether to pretend to walk out another room or hurry down to the stairs. Unfortunately, before he could decide, the door swung open and there stood Ron and Hermione with a shocking expression upon their faces. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was too caught up in the blotchy redness around Hermione's tear-coated eyes.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and wrapping Harry up in a massive hug. "Ron and I missed you so much!" She began to slightly sob again as she gripped her arms tighter around Harry.
"Hermione," Ron began, noticing Harry's face faintly pale, "I don't think Harry can breathe."
Hermione immediately let go, and forced a smile on her face as she backed up next to Ron. Harry eyed her and Ron, noticing the new features they acquired over the summer holiday. Ron grew at least two more inches, and his hair grew out a little shaggier. He wore his usual dark tan trousers and a sweater he received from Mrs. Weasley from either Christmas or his birthday. Harry's eyes moved over to Hermione continued to rub away the tears from her eyes and smile broadly at him. She seemed to grow some too since the last time he seen her. She wore a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was unsurprisingly bushy and brown as always. But there was something about her that he found different. He couldn't figure it out, and he didn't know whether she was forcing that smile or she really was thrilled at the time.
"Hermione, are you all right?" he finally asked.
"Yes, Harry. I'm okay," she answered, glancing over at Ron. "A few emotions mixing all in to one."
"What were you two talking about in there?"
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but turned to Ron, expecting him to answer for her. Though seeing he couldn't figure out anything to say, she responded, "We'll tell you later, Harry. Lets get down to the sitting room. Everyone's been waiting for you to wake up."
She quickly walked passed him, pulling his arm with Ron following behind him. Why were they avoiding the topic? And what really did bother Hermione? Questions like this filled Harry's head as Hermione continued to pull him down the stairs and occasionally looking back and smiling at him. He noticed the redness around her eyes diminish as they reached the first floor.
Walking in to the sitting room, the entire room brought their eyes to Harry, and everyone's fretful expressions immediately turned content. He knew they were putting a show on for him. Why did they have to pretend?
As Harry sat down next to Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ron robotically followed his moves and sat next to him. No one spoke a word until Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.
"I'm fine, thank you," he responded. He didn't know what else to say. Why should he tell everyone how he feels when no one was likely to believe what he says or they'd try to fluff up his sorrow with comfort hugs and kisses. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ron enveloped him on the couch as Tonks and Ginny sat across from them, and Fred sat in a chair to his left, and George to his right—or was it the other way around?
No one spoke; no one had anything to really say. Though it would be nice to have someone break the awkward silence, everyone hoped it would've been someone else rather than Shacklebolt.
"Didn't Sirius use some sort of stick to smack Kreacher with when he was bored?" he asked, walking in the room unaware of Harry's presence. "Do any of you know where that would be?" At the sound of Sirius's name, Harry immediately tensed up. "Oh, sorry. Hello, Harry. Didn't see you there. How we feeling then?"