I walk out of my dormitory to the Great Hall for breakfast. I don't particularly want to, but my legs have become treacherous and carry me towards the Gryffindor table.
As I pass, people drop their cutlery to gawk at me. I suppose it comes as a surprise to them that yes, Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, Hogwart's youngest Seeker in a century, and Lord Voldemort's archenemy can look like hell.
My hair is messy, – isn't it always? – My eyes are shadowed are shadowed because I can't sleep, and they're probably red and puffy, too, because I've been crying. My robes are clean but terribly wrinkled. I can't stop my hands from shaking.
At first, I thought this overwhelming grief would melt away over time, leaving me with only happy memories of him. It hasn't. It's as vivid as if he was murdered only yesterday. I can still his face, one minute arrogant and proud and laughing, the next shocked and in pain. I can still picture the way the curse caused him to crumple backwards, into the Veil. Somehow, no matter how dirty or shocked he was, Sirius always seemed to be noble and elegant. Even as he fell.
He was the one person who I could look up to as an adult role model that was always there for me, no matter what. Mrs. Weasley may have thought him a little too childlike and immature, but he was my best friend. And, it didn't matter if he wasn't there for the first thirteen years of my life, because he tried to make up for it, and he tried to get to me to explain.
And now he's gone and I'll never see him again. Never.
I plonk myself down next to Ron and Hermione and they look at me worriedly. They're both leaving for the holidays today, and they're probably having second thoughts.
Can't they tell I just want to be alone?
"Harry, I think –" Hermione begins.
"Hermione, I just don't want to talk about it. Please."
She reluctantly nods her understanding, but they both keep sneaking glances at me.
I just don't care anymore. Not about anything, really; not tests or assignments, enemies, the House Cup – nothing.
Ron was about to say something, but now he's looking over my shoulder with a disgusted expression on his face.
And there's only one person who receives that expression – Draco Malfoy.
"You're looking the worse for wear, aren't you, Potter?" he drawls.
Hermione shoots to her feet, a scowl on her lips. I can't even be bothered to turn around and look my tormentor in the face.
Hermione is about to draw her wand, but Ron lays a restraining hand on her arm.
The teachers are watching with interested expressions, like this is some kind of entertainment. It wouldn't surprise me if I was to find that they laid bets on which students would attack which students each week.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione snaps. "We're trying to have a clean, decent conversation."
Malfoy smirks. "That must be hard, Granger, considering your dirty heritage."
Ron clenches his jaw and speaks through his teeth in anger. "Get to the point, Malfoy."
"I just wanted to ask Potter here how he is. It must be terribly hard for him. I wanted to apologise." He doesn't sound apologetic at all. In fact, he sounds smug. Malfoys have a tendency of sounding smug.
"Fine." I growl and snatch up my bag, stalking to the dungeons for Potions, which I have next.
I hate Potions.
"Harry! You haven't had any breakfast!" Ron and Hermione call, but I pretend not to hear them.
I'm not hungry, anyway. My appetite decreased dramatically after my godfather died.
I know I'm probably making Ron and Hermione feel hurt, but I can't help it. It's true that I didn't even know Sirius for three years, but we were far closer than I am to Ron and Hermione.
And if he sometimes looked at me and saw his best friend rather than his godson, then what did it matter? I didn't care, and neither did he.
I am told I look a great deal like my father except for my eyes. I have my mother's eyes.
I never knew them. They were stripped away from me before I got the chance to. Late at night while I was lying on my bed under the stairs at the Dursleys' home, I used to wonder if it would hurt less or more if I had gotten the chance to know them and then had them taken away.
Now I know – it hurts more, so much more. At least in Sirius' case.
Someone clears their throat behind me and I slowly turn around. Draco Malfoy is resting against the wall, hands shoved into his robe's pockets.
"Oh. It's you."
"You've gone around the bend, Potter." I stare at him confusedly, and he swirls a finger up near his ear. "You've gone insane."
Probably. "Why would that be?"
"First day of holidays. No school." He's smirking at me now.
"Oh." No wonder people were staring at me. I look up to ask Malfoy something, but he's already gone.
After dropping my school stuff back into my dormitory, I wander around empty hallways, realising I forgot to say goodbye to Hermione and Ro.
Oh well. It's not healthy for them to hang around with a depressed teen boy whose destiny is to save the world and then die in agony. They've tried to cheer me up, they really have. It just doesn't work. It's my fault, not theirs.
Suddenly, inspiration strikes me and I gasp. Of course! I run all the way up to the Fat Lady, scream the pass word and scramble inside while she grumbles.
It's the first time I've had hope about anything since Sirius died. Clawing through my possessions, I finally see it glinting as dim sunlight bounces off it. Grabbing it, I carefully carry it over to my bed, draw close the curtains and whisper a silencing and locking charm, turning to face what is right now the most important thing to me on Earth.
The two-way mirror my beloved godfather, Sirius gave to me.
As I lean over it, I hear a girl's voice. Ginny's voice.
"Harry? I know you're in there. I – I know you don't want to talk about it. I don't either. I just want you to know that if you ever need to – to just be with someone without having them ask a million questions, I'll be there for you. Always . . ." she takes a deep breath. "I'll leave you alone now."
I wait until her footsteps are gone and then lunge back to the mirror. I breathe Sirius' name and wait. Nothing happens.
I'm on the verge of tears when it finally clouds up and in an instant, It's clear again and his face is their, once more beautiful and proud.
His noble features are twisted in disbelief, but I can tell that he was laughing before I called him. "Harry?"
Before I had lots to tell him about, so much to say to him. But as soon as I saw he was happy – no, not happy, ecstatic – without me made me feel deeply hurt, and to cease the sting, I became angry. I know it's just me being a jealous little bastard, but I can't help it! He was snatched from me, I've just managed to find him again, and he's ON CLOUD NINE because I wasn't there to bother him, wherever "there" is!
"Harry, what's going on? Why am I here?"
"Because I called you," I snap at him. "It doesn't matter, anyway, seeing how pleased you were to be away from me."
He looks at me, quite obviously cut. Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual. "Harry, I –" I open my mouth to interrupt him like the obnoxious person I am, but he glares at me so fiercely it shuts me up. "You will listen to me, or you will wish you were never born, boy."
"I already do." A long pause follows this, and he looks ashamed and embarrassed.
"Harry, I'm so sorry," my godfather whispers. "I wanted to be with you here so much – but I couldn't. I was with Lily and James. That's why I was laughing."
Bitterness courses through my voice. "Oh, really? Well, I hope you're satisfied. Ever since they died, all you've ever done is mope about them being gone and wanted to be with them –"
"That's not fair. James was my best friend and Lily was his wife and the girl he was in love with! And I did miss you; I've been trying to contact you through the mirrors, too. Apparently since I'm dead, only you can contact me and only because of some weird Jupiter-and-Earth's-moon-divination-mumbo-jumbo."
I can literally feel myself plunge back into depression. "So I won't get to speak to you again." It's not a question.
"No. Sorry, mate." He stares at me for a while, trying to find the words to say something and I wait patiently for him. "I just want you to know – Lily and James are proud of you. You don't know how much. I am to. We all love you and we're all worried about you."
A tear rolls down my cheek and I don't bother to wipe it away. "They can't love me, they don't know me."
"Harry, you're their flesh and blood! Of course they love you! And, I suspect," Sirius takes a breath, and calms down a little. "I suspect that if you open up a bit, you'll find that a whole lot of people love you – Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Molly, Arthur, and," he winks slyly. "a certain pretty red-haired minx that goes by the name of Ginny Weasley." Suddenly, my godfather glances around. "Harry, I have to go. Now. I'm sorry."
"Kay," I sniff, and nod my head.
He looks at me, and for the last time in my life on Earth I see his face, restored to full beauty and perfection. My godfather smiles sweetly at me. "Wait! Can you tell them – I love them?"
"Sure thing."
"I love you, Sirius."
"Love you too, Harry."
And then the mirror clouds up again and then it's clear, and I can see my own reflection. "I love you all." I whisper and then reverently place the mirror back in my suitcase.
I go down into the Common Room and sit in my favourite couch, staring into the fire. Except this time, instead of being depressed, I'm actually remembering him – but him in the happy memories.
A single, slight shadow appears in front of me, and Ginny is standing just inside the doorway. "Oh! Harry. I'll – just leave you be. . Sorry –"
"No, Ginny, it's okay. Sit beside me. Please?'
She eases herself into the chair next to me as I shove over and we both slowly relax. Sirius' death hasn't only been hard on me. She and I both feel horrible, but that stage's over now. "Thankyou, Ginny."
She doesn't need to ask what I'm thanking her for. "Anytime, Harry."
And we both sit there, just staring into the dancing flames for a long time, in almost complete silence, content with our thoughts.
Sirius is gone, and I miss him badly. But the terrible agony I had to deal with on a day-to-day basis before is now incredibly diminished.
Because I know that my mother, my father, and my godfather miss, love and are proud of me.
And because I know that she's here to catch me when I fall.