It was another sweltering hot summer on Private Drive. Harry's window was wide open; welcoming the non-existent breeze. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. He hadn't unpacked from Hogwarts yet, and his trunk remained on the floor, clothes and other items scattered around it. Hedwig had been out hunting from the night before, and had not yet returned. Her cage was left un-cleaned, which was probably why she left Harry's room at all opportunities. His mind was too unfocused to do anything productive, thoughts just kept circling around madly. He still had too many unanswered questions with no one to answer them. Worst of all he actually found himself mad at his godfather, Sirius, who had been killed less than a month ago. A surge of anger caught him in the chest and he clenched his fists.
Why did he have to die? He was the only thing Harry had left! And he had been stupid enough to get himself killed!
As selfish as he felt his anger did not ebb away quickly. He rolled himself out of bed for the first time in the day and began to rummage through his trunk for a piece of parchment. Angrily he threw his clothes aside until he reached the bottom of the trunk. There was a wrapped package in the corner and Harry stopped frowning at it. Carefully he picked the square object from the trunk and slowly unwrapped it. The cracked two-way mirror Sirius had left him was left in his hands.
Harry took a deep breath, staring back at his own reflection. He wiped the glass and continued to stare. He had almost forgotten about the mirror again, after he tried to use it at the end of the school year. He had thrown it aside when he knew it wouldn't work, and had been very tempted to throw it out all together, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. He turned the mirror over and re read what Sirius had written to him. His eyes stung seeing the familiar handwriting. He was about to throw it back into the trunk when he felt it vibrate slightly and saw his face being replaced slowly by that of someone else's.
"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, astonished to see the face of his past Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin.
"Harry?" Remus asked, looked equally as puzzled. "I had just been going through some things…" He paused, not wanting to say anything that might upset Harry. "And, well, I came across this old thing." He smiled affectionately, apparently reminiscing.
Harry seemed at a loss for words, "I didn't know how to work it. I thought you had to say the other persons name into it for it to work, at least…" His voice trailed off.
"Right," Remus said his eyes looking uncomfortably away. "Well I'm sure after all these years some of the magic's ebbing away. I was in school quite a while ago," He joked quietly. "You're dad bought four of them one Christmas at Zonko's."
Harry moved back and sat at the edge of his bed. He had wanted to tell Remus he had something to do, so he could be left alone again, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to his old professor. "I thought there were only two?"
"Well we started out with four, but mine was broken and Sirius lost his, then stole Peter's and told him he must have lost it too."
Harry couldn't help but smile, something he hadn't done for quite a few months. It was rare that he could hear a story about his parents while they were in school, and the few that Sirius had told him had been entertaining.
"Did you use them a lot?" Harry asked sitting up against the headboard of his bed.
"Of course," Remus said grinning. He too had taken a seat in an armchair in the old Black Drawing Room. "Your dad planned to just use them when we were in separate detentions, but they became more useful than that. We could communicate anywhere in the school at any given point. Wonderful for pranks, really."
"I thought you were the prefect of the lot?" Harry asked, with a hint of amusement.
Remus sighed slightly, "Yes, so I was. I was only given that position to keep the others in line, which as you saw first hand I wasn't very good at doing. Beside, it wasn't all that fun always being on the sidelines of a good joke."
Harry smiled a little, but Remus could tell he was still very troubled. "Anything you'd like to talk about Harry?" He asked earnestly.
Harry felt his throat tighten at the question. Of course he wanted to talk about what happened, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to Lupin about it. What did he know? He hadn't even believed Sirius' innocence until two years ago. "I'm fine."
Remus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He knew Harry had not replied to any of the owls Hermione, Ron, and even Dumbledore himself had sent him. It wasn't healthy for him to remain locked in that house with nothing more but a trunk full of schoolbooks, and the memory of the night Sirius was killed.
"Professor?.." Harry began, but Remus held up his free hand to stop him.
"I'm no longer your teacher Harry, you can call me Remus."
Harry nodded politely. "Remus…" He felt awkward and rude using his old teachers first name. Calling Sirius by his had come much more easily once he understood what had happened in his godfathers past. "It's just, I didn't get to talk to Sirius much about my dad. All I've ever seen was what was in Snape's Pensieve."
"And you didn't find that very comforting." Said Remus thoughtfully remembering talking to Harry along with Sirius not too long ago about what he had seen.
"Well I understand that my dad was a bit of an idiot at fifteen, well, the whole lot of you were."
Remus laughed at that. "I can't deny it."
"It's just…" Harry seemed embarrassed to ask. "It's just I don't know anything about what my parents were like."
"They were good people," Remus started sincerely.
"I know that," Harry said with a hint of impatience. "I've heard all about how good they were, but that's not what I want…"
"Harry?" Remus frowned and tapped the mirrors surface lightly. Harry had been growing fainter throughout the conversation, but now it was almost impossible to see him. His mouth was moving but his words were inaudible. "Harry, if you can hear me, I think the mirror's finally lost the last of it's magic…" He flipped it over in his hands once and sighed feeling as though he had lost another part of his childhood.
"I can hear you just fine…" Harry said, frowning. Remus' face had been sort of skewed because of the broken glass but he could still see and hear him. "Maybe it's because this is broken," He said pulling his wand from his jean pockets and touching the tip to the glass. He opened his mouth to say reparo but thought better of it. He did not want another repeat of what happened last summer. He was already under the watchful eye of the Ministry as it were, and the last thing he needed was another bought of magic outside of school. But he found it quite difficult to pull his wand away from the mirror. It was as if a very strong magnet has joined the two together.
He tugged with all his might, but to no use. Harry cursed and tried once again to free his wand. Suddenly, however, the glass from the mirror shattered and Remus' face was gone. Harry swore but still could not free his wand. But before he could utter another word everything went suddenly pitch-black and cold. It gave him an odd sense of familiarity. It was almost as if a dementor had entered his bedroom. What happened? He wondered, for he found that he had no voice. As abruptly as the blackness had engulfed him, though, he found himself thrown into something so unexpected he actually fell to the floor.