The Living Memory
Part 1
Sirius smoothed his hands over the top of the trunk, brushing the dust away from it, revealing the warm wood color below. He took a deep breath, his small chest rising and falling, though it felt there was a great weight upon it, and he opened it slowly and carefully, though all he wished to do was fling it open in one go. He was actually afraid to open it, afraid that it would hold nothing, that whatever might be in there would not be his Dad's but rather the trunk was just used for storage of menial things.
He gathered his courage, and pushed the lid open and his breath caught in his throat at what was held inside. It wasn't empty after all.
There was red and gold scarf upon black fabric, and Sirius knew it was his Dad's old Hogwarts uniform. His small fingers trembled as he ran his hand over the wool, afraid that it would disappear or crumble to dust. His Dad had worn this, had been alive in it, ran, played, studied. Sirius felt tears come to his eyes and he felt that hollow hole in his chest more acutely then he had in a while.
Biting his lip, he carefully removed the scarf, and wrapped it around his own neck, before taking the folded robes and placing them on his lap and not on the floor. Somehow, it seemed wrong to do so. There were some other clothes there too, a jumper that Sirius recognized as one that Grandma Weasley probably made, some white shirts and gold and red ties, and oddly enough a Slytherin one.
Digging further, he didn't pause to wonder at the depth of it, many things in the Wizarding World were not what they seemed, and this trunk was no different. His hands hit something smooth and solid and he lifted it with the realization that there must be a strong lightening charm on it. He placed it gently on the floor beside him, removed the pile of clothes from his lap and placed them in the trunk.
There was a silver latch on the box and Sirius' hand tingled as he touched it to flip it. Startled he pulled his hand back and expected it, but there was nothing wrong with it. Frowning he touched the latch again, but felt nothing this time. With a shrug of his shoulders he flipped it, and pushed the lid back. There was a letter on top of yet another box, and he picked it up with care, running his fingers over the name upon it. Sirius.
His hands shook as he carefully broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, his breath catching in his throat at the words written there. The handwriting was nothing like his Father's, which was cursive, flowing, and all together elegant. It was more like chicken scratch, from someone who had grown up without using a quill and had never really been able to get the hang of it. Sirius liked to think it had character, but knew his Father would have a rather different adjective for it all together.
My little star,
Or perhaps you aren't so small anymore. Sirius, then, if you object to that. Sirius did not object at all, he could not remember a time when he had been called such a nickname, and wished that he could. I suppose if you're reading this, than the cure wasn't found, and while I do not fear my death, I fear leaving you to grow up without me. I know how you must feel, but you have your father and I'm sure he will tell you all sorts of stories about me. Don't believe all of them, alright? Go to your Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron if he starts saying anything too outlandishly Slytherin. Growing up with your father, I'm sure you'll understand what I mean by that. While stories are wonderful, and I loved hearing them about my Mum and Dad, your grandmother and grandfather, I always wanted more, I wanted them there with me, as impossible as that was and is. While I could not have that wish granted, and cannot grant yours, I have done what I could. In this box are several of my memories. Sirius gasped, silver eyes a storm of emotions, wide and in shock as he looked at the box in his lap. He couldn't help but to lift the lid then and there, and sure enough there were several vials, all with neat labels upon them and filled with what appeared to be silver liquid. Beneath that was a shallow basin, a pensieve! He swallowed heavily and went back to the letter. I leave them to you and your father to share. I know some of them will be difficult to watch and perhaps difficult to understand so I have placed two memories within each, the first a sort of commentary given now… or I suppose that's not right for you, but for me it has been the last couple of weeks, and the second the memory itself. Take care of yourself and know that I love you and please, Sirius, take care of your father. I'm sure you know how he can be. Don't let him hide himself away.
Love you,
Dad
Sirius bit his lip, torn. The letter said to share them with his father, but he was afraid of his father's response. He never talked about his dad, or not often anyway, and it always seemed to pain him. And he wouldn't be very happy with Sirius for going up into the attic on his own either when he had been told that he wasn't allowed. The letter said to share them, but not when he should, or even that they had to view them together! Sirius could watch them, and then put them and the trunk back, and his father wouldn't be any the wiser when Sirius demanded he take him up to the attic! Then they could "stumble" upon it together! It was genius and Sirius preened a little at the brilliance of his plan.
There was still more in the trunk, and while he held interest in it, he could not concentrate on anything else but the treasure in his hands. Taking a steadying breath, he placed it gently back into the trunk, unwound the scarf from his neck and doing the same with it, and closed the lid. He would have to be quick if he wanted to get the trunk down to his room and hidden before his father got home.
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Sirius stared at himself in his mirror. He was dirty, sweaty, and all around just in a state of disarray. It had been harder than he thought to get the trunk down ,despite the lightening charms that had been built into it. There had been a moment on the stairs that he had thought he might lose his grip, but thankfully he had been able to regain his balance. The trunk was now safely stowed away in the back of his rather sizeable closet, under his dress robes that he only ever wore at Christmas, so he was sure his father would never look there.
Now, all he needed was a shower, and a change of clothes, and then tonight when his father went to bed Sirius would finally learn who his dad was, the man that it pained so many to talk about, even now.
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The chapters of this story will be short, I will tell you that now, so please don't expect 5,000 word updates. I think this is one of the stories that if I do that many words for one instance, it might be too much, and each memory will be it's own chapter. Some will be longer, some will be shorter. This story is done for my own enjoyment and I hope others enjoy it too. Please review!
