Chapter 10 – The First Real Birthday Party

The days after Ron and Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place literally flew by, and before Harry realized it, it was his birthday. He woke rather late that morning when Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in through the door and called for him and Ron to get up. Groggily, Harry rolled around in his bed for a minute or two, then lazily swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. Ron stood in front of the wardrobe and grinned at him.

"Happy Birthday, mate."

Harry grinned back, then took some clothes out of the wardrobe.

"Thanks. Though I really hope you all aren't going to make a fuss out of it."

"You wish. There will be a party, no amount of whining is going to get you out of that one."

Harry just shook his head and went into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. There were slight dark smudged under his eyes, the only sign that his sleep had not been all that undisturbed and restful. Ron's arrival had changed nothing about Harry's nightly terrors. It didn't happen every night, but he still had nightmares about Sirius' death. And last night had been one of those nights again. Harry was immensely grateful that Ron was blessed with a deep sleep and didn't wake up from Harry's thrashing. Fortunately, he didn't seem to cry out during those dreams, because that would have surely woken Ron up. Harry shook his head and splashed water onto his face. At least he always fell asleep again after the nightmares.

When he and Ron came down into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, everybody else already seemed to be there. Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the table together with Bill and Charlie, Remus, Kingsley, Mr. Weasley, and even Mad Eye Moody and Dung. Hermione immediately came over and gave him a hug, and then Harry shook numerous hands and hugged most members of the Weasley family as they all wished him a happy birthday. When they all finally settled around the table, Harry realized that Mrs. Weasley had even made special breakfast for today. Instead of the usual toast, egg and porridge there were pancakes, coffee, tea and sandwiches, and with a gracious smile at Ron's mother, Harry dug in. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to think too much about who was missing on the table today, otherwise his mood would be spoilt immediately, he knew that. So he focussed very hard to enjoy chatting with his friends and the Order members.

When they had finished eating, Kingsley and Dung excused themselves. Kingsley had to go back to the Ministry, though he told Harry that Tonks would come over later that day, and Dung only said that he had to leave. Nobody really wanted to know where he went to, so nobody would have to worry about his probably illegal activities.

From out of nowhere, Ron and Hermione suddenly pulled out a wrapped parcel and handed it over.

"Happy Birthday", Hermione said again as she gave it to Harry. "This is from Ron and me." Harry took it with a smile.

"Thank you."

He unwrapped unsurprisingly book-shaped parcel Hermione had given him. By now he was used to receiving books from her, and he didn't really mind it. Though how Ron had agreed to give him a book together with her remained a mystery to Harry. But instead of a preparation-book for the N.E.W.T.s or something similarly educating which he had expected to be inside, Harry suddenly held a copy of the Grand Quidditch Encyclopaedia – 153rd edition with team histories and pictures of the most spectacular goals of all times in his hands. His chin must have dropped as he held the thick volume and carefully opened it up, running through the pages to take a first glimpse.

"Wow…thank you, Hermione. Thanks, Ron. That's great!"

He carefully put the book on the table and gave Hermione a hug. She smiled.

"I'm glad you like it. We went to Diagon Alley yesterday before we came here to get your present. I wanted to give you this really interesting History of Magic book I've found, but in the end Ron convinced me that you might be more happy with a Quidditch book."

Harry just grinned and clasped Ron's shoulder. "Thanks mate."

Ron grinned.

"For the book, or for convincing Hermione to leave the History of Magic book be?"

"For both."

Harry received even more presents from the others who were there. A photo-album from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley together with another knit-jumper, a book with joke- and trick-curses from Bill and Charlie, and lots and loads of samples from the twins' joke-shop, much to the dismay of their mother. But this time Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, she just picked the empty plates from the table and with Remus' help started to clean them.
"There will be no lunch today", she said. "We'll have coffee and cake later, and then dinner, so I don't think we'll need another meal today."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again and just waved into the direction of his mother. That was a lost battle, and he didn't mean to pursue it any further. Instead, he turned towards the twins.

"You didn't give Harry any of the stuff you tried to test on me, did you?"

"And what would that be, little brother?", Fred asked with an innocent tone that fooled nobody.

"Those twitching-toffees, for example. I really thought my eye would never stop twitching, it drove me pretty nuts."

Fred and George laughed at the memory of testing their products on their little brother and decided to ignore their mother's withering looks. And they took care that the cheerful mood in the kitchen did not falter for the rest of the day. Of course Grimmauld Place had no backyard or garden in which they could have spent some time outside or even played a round of Quidditch, so they were rather limited in their choice of actions. They talked for a bit with Remus, Bill and Charlie, but after an hour or so the twins dragged them upstairs into their room to show them their newest inventions – knowing fully well that Mrs. Weasley would have disapproved strongly of it. Harry would probably forever stay astonished as to Fred and George's inventiveness when it came to jokes and pranks. Aside from their by now remarkably big collection of sweets that made you sick so that you could fluke classes, they also had stacked up their assortment in explosives, potions and spellwork. They had various kinds of firework, some of it looking rather dangerous in the advertising leaflets Fred showed Harry. It was quite strange to see how those two, who had never seemed to care very much about their formal education, had developed a talent especially in potions. Harry wondered briefly how Snape would react to seeing all the brews Fred and George had come up with on their own, not to mention all the stuff they offered which was not their own invention, but their own making. The shop had grown remarkably over the past months, and it was obvious that Fred and George were enjoying their work immensely. All the better, Harry thought. The world was grim enough, anyway, and it would not get better soon from all he knew. At least they enjoyed themselves and others had fun with their inventions. Well, not Mrs. Weasley, but a lot of other people.

In the afternoon Mrs. Weasley called them down for cake and coffee, but soon afterwards sent them back upstairs with the explicit order to stay away from the kitchen until she called them back down. Harry only hoped that whatever she was preparing wasn't too big, just a comfortable dinner with the people here at Grimmauld Place would be enough.

But he should have known Mrs. Weasley. Of course Ron's mother knew that Harry had never had a real birthday party before, and with her preparations had exceeded herself. When Harry, Ron and Hermione came down into the kitchen after she called them, Harry's jaw dropped for the second time that day. Over the past hours, Mrs. Wesley had decorated the kitchen with a huge banner that said "Happy Birthday", the long eating table had been turned into a buffet onto which a variety of food and drinks had been placed. Every inhabitant and visitor of Grimmauld Place was standing in the room with their glasses raised, cheering "Happy Birthday, Harry!" as he came into the room. And even if he had not wanted a big party, Harry could not stop a grin from spreading on his face.

"Thank you, it's great that you're all here!"

Mrs. Weasley ushered Harry straight towards the buffet and placed a plate into his hand.

"Tuck in, Harry, there's plenty of food here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. You needn't have made all the effort, though."

Mrs. Weasley only smiled at him. "Oh, that was no effort, it was my pleasure. Now you just enjoy your evening."

"Thank you", Harry repeated. Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulder, then she went over to the stove to fetch another deliciously-smelling pot to put it on the table. Harry put some stew onto his plate, fetched himself a butterbeer and went over to where Ron and Hermione were standing. Tonks had arrived by now, and had Hermione not grabbed hold of Harry's plate, he'd have spilled himself with stew at Tonks' exuberant greeting-hug. Even with Hermione's help he had a hard time not to spill his butterbeer.

"Harry, happy birthday. Sorry that I couldn't come earlier, but I was busy at work."

"That's all right. I'm glad that you could manage to come at all."

Tonks' featured hairstyle of today was a dark red crew-cut, but her face and remaining appearance had remained the same then when Harry had first met her.

"Is it busy at the Ministry right now?"

Tonks pulled a face. "Busy doesn't even begin to describe it. If the Ministry lacks one thing, it's cooperation between the single departments. Aside from Fudge's admission that You-Know-Who is back, nobody really knows what he's planning to do at the moment. It's one chaotic mess at the moment, but I thought I could as well take off for one evening. It can't get more messed up without me. So here I am, ready to forget about Department meetings and endless briefings for tonight."

Tonks' words reminded Harry of the fact that he had not heard any news about Voldemort or the Ministry's plans and activities against him ever since he had come to Grimmauld Place. He was rather sure that Remus, Bill or Charlie would tell him if something serious happened, but the mere fact that nothing big had happened didn't mean that nothing at all had happened. But he didn't want to breach the subject here and now. For one, he didn't know if Tonks was allowed to talk about Ministry business at all, and even if she was it would definitely be a mood-killer to talk about Voldemort at his birthday party.

So Harry put his questions aside for the moment and tried to enjoy his party. He talked to Tonks for a bit longer, then went over to where Bill and Charlie were talking with Dung, Fred and George. The twins were obviously still doing business with Dung, at least Harry noticed how Fred handed over a parchment to the man which Dung let slip inconspicuously into one of the many pockets of his robe. Harry would have bet the contents of his Gringott's vault that the parchment contained a list of ingredients which were either hard to get by or plainly illegal. As long as the products in which the ingredients ended up weren't poisonous or otherwise prone to cause damage, Harry would not bother with the doubtful legal status of their transactions.

Time practically flew by that evening. At one point, Harry was tired of standing around all the time and sat down at the kitchen table, simply watching the people in the room for a moment. They all seemed so careless, talking and laughing as if nothing bad existed in the world. Just as if Voldemort was not out there, about to start his second war against the wizarding world. There were only few moments when Harry could forget about Voldemort entirely, not tonight though, but he felt consoled by the fact that his friends seemed to be able to. At least Ron and Hermione didn't look as if they were overly worried about something at the moment. It felt like last Christmas when they had been celebrating here at Grimmauld Place. Ron was talking to Bill and Dung, Hermione and Ginny had retreated into a far-off corner, and Remus was engaged in a vivid conversation with Kingsley and Mr. Weasley, gesturing wildly with his hands to emphasize what he was talking about. For a brief moment, Harry wondered why he could not see Sirius anywhere around. He looked around the room in search of his godfather, and he had to check the room twice before he realized why Sirius was not here this night. Why Sirius would never be here again, whether for his birthday, for Christmas, or for any day else. Because Sirius was dead.

Tears shot into Harry's eyes immediately and the realization felt like something stabbing into his heart. He had forgotten for one small moment that Sirius was dead, and realizing his mistake made all the pain about Sirius' death flare up again. Suddenly the room felt too small, the conversation was too loud, and everybody was far too cheerful considering that the person who belonged into this house more than anybody else in this room was dead and would never come back again. And nobody here in the kitchen seemed to care. The room suddenly felt far too hot and Harry quickly got up from his chair and went over towards the door. He needed to get out for a moment, he needed to be somewhere where he could breathe again, and where he was alone. He didn't particularly care about talking at the moment, so he hoped that nobody had seen him leave and was coming after him.

Harry didn't really know where he was going, he only knew that he didn't want to be in the kitchen anymore, and neither did he want to go into his and Ron's room. He walked up the first flight of stairs and down the corridor, trying to remember which rooms were here on that floor. He had already forgotten the little he had learned about No. 12 Grimmauld Place last summer.

As he passed one of the rooms, he heard sounds behind the door which he could not immediately place. As he knew that everybody in the house was supposedly in the kitchen, it astonished him a bit that somebody was up there to cause this noise. At first he thought that maybe there was a boggart or a ghoul in the room which might have been forgotten to banish during the cleanup over the last year, but then he heard a sound he recognized and opened the door.

This had to be Mrs. Black's bedroom, and Harry had completely forgotten that his godfather had kept Buckbeak the hippogriff there. He had thought that with Sirius gone somebody would have taken the animal away, but Buckbeak seemingly was still there. Harry entered the room, closed the door behind himself and bowed to the huge animal. Buckbeak regarded him for a moment, then he bent his legs and returned the bow, allowing Harry to come closer and pat his neck and back.

"Hello Buckbeak. I had not thought that you were still here."

The bird just turned its head and watched Harry from its huge eyes. Maybe it was just the teenager's imagination, but to him the eyes seemed all too huge and sad. He smiled unconvincingly and patted Buckbeak's neck some more.

"You miss him, too, don't you? I bet you're asking yourself why Sirius doesn't show up anymore."

And suddenly, the tears were back in his eyes, and this time Harry had no chance of holding them back whatsoever. He retreated into the far-off corner of the room and crouched against the wall, simply allowing the tears to run down his cheeks. He didn't know if it would help any, but no matter what he thought about crying, he just could not hold it all back anymore.

Harry didn't know for how long he had cried when Buckbeak suddenly turned his head towards the door and scratched his hooves across the floor. Somebody was coming down the corridor, and Harry only hoped that they were not heading towards this room. He was not in the mood for company. Nevertheless, he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stood back behind the hippogriff so that he could not immediately be seen. And indeed, the footsteps stopped in front of the door, then Harry heard it being opened up and whoever had come was stepping into the room.

"Harry?"

Harry had thought to be save up here in Mrs. Black's former bedroom, but obviously Remus had thought he would hide out here. He patted Buckbeak's neck once more and stepped around the hippogriff. Hopefully, Remus would not see that he had been crying.

"Hey."

Remus bowed to Buckbeak, then stepped closer into the room and smiled at Harry.

"I thought you might be up here. You mind if I join you?"

Harry shook his head.

"I just wanted to look after Buckbeak for a moment. I had nearly forgotten that he's here as well."

"Yes, he still is. Dung took care of him, mostly. But it was not the perfect solution right from the start, even when Sirius was still taking care of him."

"I guess Buckbeak needs a bit more room than this here."

Remus nodded and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall.

"Right. He hasn't flown for over a year now. Too dangerous, obviously. A hippogriff flying around here could draw attention, and not only from the muggles. But he's not doing fine here, he's getting more and more restless and moody. Last week he bowed to Dung and then tried to bite him. I've talked to Hagrid, he's trying to find a herd for him. Up in Ireland there are a couple of wild herds, if Hagrid manages to introduce him to one of them and get him accepted, I think he'll be doing a lot better. But it could take another two or three weeks."

Harry nodded and sank down beside Remus.

"You didn't seem all that comfortable downstairs", Remus said without preamble.

Harry shrugged. "The party was really a great idea, I don't want to seem ungrateful. It's just…I had imagined my first real birthday party to be slightly different. Or rather, I had thought I'd be more in the mood for it."

They both sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Remus shifted slightly and pulled something out of the pocket of his robe.

"Despite the fact that you're not in the mood for a birthday celebration, I have something I want to give you."

Harry looked first at Remus and then at what he was holding in his hand. It was a square parcel wrapped in blue and green wrapping paper.

"You really don't need to give me anything."

"But I want to. Besides, it's actually not something from me, but from Sirius. I'm just the one to give it to you."

Harry frowned and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

"From Sirius? How's that?"

"Tonks and I were looking through his things, and that's where I found it. It's something I know he treasured a lot, and I think he would have wanted you to have it."

He held the parcel out to Harry, and hesitantly the teenager took it. He didn't open it up, though, and after a moment Remus spoke again.
"I didn't glue my fingers together with spell-o-tape so that you keep staring at the package forever. Just open it up."

Harry still hesitated for a moment, but then he turned the package around and loosened the strips of tape on the back. As he peeled the wrapping paper away, he held a picture frame in his hands. It was plain silver and without any engravings, and it lay heavily in Harry's hands. He turned it around and had to swallow against his tears as he realized just what kind of picture was in the frame. A young and handsome Sirius was standing in a living room Harry had never seen before, and on his arm he was holding a baby of maybe ten months or so, with jet black and unruly hair. Both were waving into the camera, the baby a bit clumsily and only with the help of Sirius, and from time to time Sirius tickled the child in the ribs upon which it would squeal with laughter and try to get away from the offending hand. Harry didn't know for how long he had stared at the picture when Remus spoke again.

"He cherished that picture. The frame is some kind of family heirloom, though Sirius never really cared about it. But it's over a hundred years old, a fancy sort of real silver frame with unbreakable glass or something equally posh. Sirius had loads of pictures of you, of your parents and you, or of himself and you, but this here was the one that stood on his nightstand until he was brought to Azkaban and all his things were brought back to Grimmauld Place."

Harry kept his gaze fixed on the picture, unconsciously tracing Sirius' outline with his index finger. He didn't know what to say, and his throat felt too constricted to speak, anyway.

"Thank you", he finally croaked out. Remus nodded, though Harry didn't see it. His eyes were far too clouded with tears for him to see anything clearly. Harry only wished that he could remember that, that he could remember being together with his godfather when he was a small child. He wished so desperately to have some memories of happy times with Sirius. But he didn't, and that was something he'd have to live with. And now Sirius was gone and every chance to make new memories together with his godfather had gone with him.

"He loved you", Remus said after a while. "He never came around telling you while you were old enough to remember, but he loved you very much."

Harry shook his head and fought hard against his tears.

"He might have loved me while I was the child on that picture, but he hardly got to know me after he broke out of Azkaban. And I don't even remember ever to have been that child."

"He did, believe me. Whenever we were talking aside from Order business, he was always talking about you. How proud he was of you, how much he'd love to go to Hogwarts to see you again, how excited he had been when he had first seen you play Quidditch. He could talk about you for hours and never tired of it, only I think it was hard for him to show you how much he really cared. He didn't want to smother you with affection as long as he didn't know how you'd react to it. And the two of you didn't have that much time together, you hardly knew each other."

Harry still had his eyes fixed on the picture. He wished that Remus was right with what he said, but there was a nagging little voice of doubt in the back of his mind.

"What…what about what Mrs. Weasley said last year? That Sirius simply confused me with my Dad."

Remus was silent for a moment, giving the question some serious thought.

"At times that might have been true. I knew Sirius very well before he went to Azkaban, and after he was back even I had problems understanding him at times. He had been locked up for twelve years in a place where he had no chance to deal with his memories and everything that happened to him. And when he came out of there, the baby he once knew had grown up into a boy who resembled his best friend incredibly. I can imagine very well that he mistook you for James at times. Or rather, that he simply assumed you were like James, because you resemble him so much. That was the only thing in you he recognized, the only thing he could relate to, your outward resemblance to his dead best friend. He didn't know much about what made you, he didn't know anything about the traits that make you uniquely Harry and have nothing to do with James. But unfortunately he never had the time to discover all the important things about you. That is why I wanted to give you the picture, so that you have something to remind you. Sirius loved you, back then just as well as during the past years. I know that it probably hurts to look at the picture right now, but there might come a time when you'll be glad to have something to remind you of him."
"Thank you, Remus."

"You're welcome, Harry. I'm sorry if it upset you."

Harry shrugged.

"That's all right. I'm thinking about him for most of the day, anyway."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know. I don't think I can really talk about it. It's not that I think of specific things, I just miss him, and badly. And sometimes I think I even miss the things I never had with him."

"Like living with him, being a real family, just the two of you."

Harry nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I miss having a home. No matter where that would have been, but a place where I know I belong. I never had that, and ever since I got to know Sirius, having that one day – with him – has been my hope. Something I could cling to. But always things got in between."

"I'm sorry."

Harry frowned and for a moment had to think about what his former teacher meant. He really had to stress his memory until he remembered that it had been Remus' sudden change into the werewolf that had prevented them from delivering Wormtail to the Ministry the night he had first met Sirius. Of course Remus' change had set the chain of events into motion that had led to Sirius fleeing again, but Harry had never blamed Remus for anything. It had just been one more moment of bad luck for all of them, but nothing more to Harry.

"It wasn't your fault what happened back then. Without you, I'd probably not even have listened to Sirius' story anyway."

A small smile spread across Remus' face. "Oh, I don't know. You were angry, but not angry enough to kill or hurt him, even if you had known how. And I think curiosity would have made you listen to him. He could be very persistent."

Harry carefully placed the picture on the floor beside him and leaned back against the wall. Next to him, Remus wearily rubbed his temples, his eyes squeezed close as if he was having a headache.

"Are you all right?", Harry asked. Remus nodded quickly, a bit too quickly for Harry's liking.

"Yes, I am. I've only been a bit tried lately, and full moon is approaching. But I'm fine."

Harry didn't believe him, he knew that full moon was nearly two weeks away still. He had to admit that he didn't know all that much about lycanthropy, but he could not imagine that it already affected Remus now. That would mean it never didn't affect him. But for now, he decided not to press the matter any further. Maybe it was full moon, and if something different was bothering Remus, then the man surely had his reasons for not talking to him about them. The two of them sat in companionable silence for some minutes, Remus kneading one of his hands with the other unconsciously, staring at the wall behind Buckbeak's head.

"Can I ask you something?", Harry finally said. Remus nodded.

"Of course."

"What is happening now?"

Remus turned so that he was facing Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"The Order. I mean, I understood what you did last year. When the Ministry didn't believe that Voldemort was back, the Order had to try and do something against him. But now? As far as I know, even Fudge has accepted Voldemort's return by now, and it was in the Prophet at the end of the last school year. So I think the Ministry is finally doing something against Voldemort, but what is the Order doing then?"

Remus nodded.

"Yes, the Ministry has admitted that Voldemort is back, but you have to see that the Order also existed during the first war, despite the fact that everybody knew that Voldemort was there, threatening our world. Minister Fudge's public admission that he is back has taken a lot of pressure from our shoulders, though. We don't have to work in secret anymore, and we don't have to take care of everything. But that doesn't mean there is nothing to do for us. For one, we have been making plans on how to proceed for far longer than the Ministry or the DMLE. We have information they don't have yet, so we need to coordinate with the Ministry. And there are still more things that need to be done. We all didn't stop being in the resistance against Voldemort four weeks ago, we simply shifted tasks a bit. We take care of the things the Ministry is still hesitant to do, like contacting the non-human groups in the wizarding society. We watch people who sided with Voldemort last war but were never openly revealed or punished. Mainly, we gather information and try to get a picture of what is going on. Then we try to involve the Ministry in what we find out, mostly through our people there, like Kingsley or Tonks."

"But what about Voldemort? I haven't heard anybody mention him since that night in the Ministry."

Harry's voice broke a bit as he remembered what else had happened that night, and Remus squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Again just like last year, that is because he has not done anything. There have been no Death Eater attacks, no action we could determine to be caused by Voldemort. It's not a good development for many reasons. We still don't know what we're up against, we still don't know what he is planning to do next. And if nothing happens for a couple of weeks longer, then maybe the public will not believe in his return anymore. It's only natural that people don't want to believe in something this horrible if they don't see any proof for it. Not that I want something to happen, when Voldemort strikes I fear it will cost a number of lives. But knowing that we stand at the brink of war and are just waiting for the first tragedy to happen is unbearable. I don't know if you have read the Daily Prophet lately, but this anxiety as to what is about to happen shows in what they're writing about the situation. They have not only admitted that Voldemort is back, they have also indirectly revoked a lot of what they have written about you and your mental stability last year. Not directly of course, but ever since they first admitted Voldemort's return, your reputation has improved again. Of course, after all they all expect you to save the wizarding world from him sooner or later. Ironic, but that's how it is."

"What do you think he'll do?"

Remus thought for a long moment before he answered.

"If I only knew for sure, Harry. But it's no secret that he wants to gain control of the wizarding world again. He wants power, and for that he needs to get rid of those who have the power now."

"The Ministry."

Remus nodded. "Amongst other things, the Ministry. Undoubtedly, some people at the Ministry are already working for him, supplying him with information. Once he knows who is standing on his side and who not, he'll try to get rid of those who could pose a threat to him. Then of course there is Albus. Because even if the Ministry falls, Albus still is a big enough figure in our society to lead us through this war. So Voldemort will do his best to get Albus out of the way, maybe even break the safety around Hogwarts. Our most vulnerable point are our children. Once people are no longer sure that their children are safe at Hogwarts, panic will spread. Panic makes It easier for him to strike, and maybe even to win. And then there are you."

Harry swallowed and nodded.

"He needs to kill me."

"I don't know if he needs to, or has to kill you. I've always been a bit sceptical about the destining effect of predictions. But even if it wasn't necessary for him to kill you to stay alive himself, he needs to do so to prove himself. A wizard with the claim of absolute power over his world can only be defeated by an underage wizard so many times before even his followers start doubting him. You have become dangerous for him because whatever he did, you have always escaped with your life so far. He kept on underestimating you time and time again. But I'm afraid that should it ever come to another encounter between you, he will do his best not to make this mistake again."

Harry pulled a face and stared down at the photograph of himself and Sirius again. Sirius waved at him – at him and not at the baby he was holding – then he smiled and pressed a kiss on the top of baby-Harry's head. Then he just seemed to look straight at Harry, as if he knew that something was bothering his godson. Harry smiled shakily and placed his hand on the glass.

"Will you come down again? I think the twins and Dung are still taking the party to new heights."

Harry shook his head.
"No, I think I'll go to bed. I…it's all been a bit much today. A lot is going through my head right now, I would not make good company."

He got up from the floor and Remus followed suit.

"I know I've told you this a couple of times already, but I'll be there to listen if you ever want to talk."

"I know. Thank you, Remus. Good night."

"Good night, Harry. Sleep well."

Harry went upstairs and into his bedroom. He was a bit relieved to see that Ron seemingly was still downstairs with the others. Quickly, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. He placed the picture frame with the photograph of Sirius and himself on the nightstand and climbed into bed. Before he extinguished the lights, he watched the image from the past for a long moment. Sirius was looking straight back at him, his head cocked slightly to the side and holding baby-Harry's head against his chest with his free hand.

"I miss you", Harry whispered. "I miss you so much. I wish you were still here with me. I don't know if I can go through all this alone. I'm scared, and I don't know who will be there to help me."

Sirius smiled at him just as if he had heard Harry's words and was trying to encourage him. Harry silently kept on looking at the picture, thinking about why on earth he had never been given the chance to really experience the love and comfort his parents or his godfather seemed to have been so willing to give, and why life had treated his godfather even worse than it had treated Harry so far. It just wasn't fair. A tear rolled down Harry's cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. How often might Sirius have lain in bed watching that picture for a moment before he went to sleep? Harry didn't want to continue this train of thought, otherwise he'd only have another nightmare about Sirius falling through the veil. He curled up under the blankets and extinguished the lights. It took a long time until he fell asleep that night, but somehow it was a comforting feeling to know that Sirius' picture was standing on the nightstand. At least a small piece of his godfather had remained with him. And this night, for once he didn't have any nightmares.