Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

Harry began moving through the crowd, trying to get to the fireplace. It wasn't long, however, before he found himself face-to-face with a reporter. He groaned. Really? Now was not the time. He needed to get home and prepare for the D.A. meeting.

"Mr. Potter, what brings you to Diagon Alley today?"

"Can you tell us more about your years at Hogwarts?"

"How do you feel about the many who died during the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Will you ever reveal what truly happened during the Battle of Hogwarts?"

These questions, were, of course, to be expected, but Harry's ear was drawn to the more unusual ones.

"What spell do you think you used the most during your life?"

"What was your earliest memory of accidental magic?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" (a question more common than Harry cared for, though still rather surprising, perhaps due to Hermione's outright refusal to accept any such questions from Rita Skeeter).

Harry stood, stiff as board, as the onslaught of questions continued. He didn't answer a single one of them, more because he was overwhelmed than anything. He would be plenty happy to answer all their questions and never seen them again.

"How do you feel about the defeat of You-Know-Who?"

There was a silence after this was asked, as if the question had been tabooed. All the reporters turned to look at him, and several customers did as well. Harry stayed silent too, for a moment, then realized that someone had to break the silence.

"Call him Voldemort," he said, carefully annunciating each syllable. A split second more of silence, and the reporters disbanded, scribbling furiously in their notebooks.

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Having successfully Flooed himself to Grimmauld Place, Harry waved his wand, haphazardly making bread and cheese fly across the room, eventually forming a sandwich. Sastified, he sat down at the table with his lunch and picked up the next letter.

Dear Harry,

I found a charm that makes it so the quill writes what we're saying! Your mum's a genius. James, look! It's writing in different handwritings! Wow. Harry, this is Mum. And this is Dad. I still can't believe it's working. That's the beauty of having half the library checked out right before you vanish off the face of the earth. I only have ten library books, and we did not "vanish off the face of the earth." Padfoot's words, not mine. Foof said that? Ooo, yes! He totally needs to hear about Foof! Really? It's funny! Oh, alright.

So, when you had just started talking, saying stuff like "Mama,"and " Dada," Sirius came over almost every day. And, of course, James would always call him Padfoot. You eventually picked it up. But babies that young can't talk very well- so it came out as "Foof." I'm sure you could have later called him Padfoot, had you wanted to, but the name stuck.

Then there was Moony. He made a considerable effort to get you to pronounce his name correctly, but you mixed up the "m" and the "n". He would sit there, trying to get you to it. "Moony, Harry. Moony." and you would say "Noomy." and he would say "No, Harry Moony. Muh-oo-ny." and you would say "Noomy." This happened very frequently. It did.

You never actually said "Wormtail," come to think of it. I thought he did. Really? He tried. Hmmm…. I never heard that. It sounded something "Um." James, babies say things like "um," all the time. Yes, but he said that when he saw Peter! Think what you want.

Harry, have a great school year, pay attention in your classes, do your homework, try not to get in trouble, and don't go wandering off or do anything remotely illegal.

Love,

Mum & Dad

P.S. You should start calling Sirius 'Foof.'

Harry took a few moments to laugh at this. If only he had read this sooner, he could have annoyed Remus so much… But now a different question had fought its way to the front of his mind: Why hadn't Sirius ever given him the letters?

Harry glanced up at the empty painting on the wall where Sirius should have been.

"Sirius?" he called. When Sirius didn't come, he tried again. "Snuffles? Padfoot?" Still, the frame remained empty. "Foof?

"Never thought I'd hear you say that again," said Sirius, grinning as he finally appeared. "Where'd you learn that, anyways?"

"The letters." Harry's answer was short and direct; surely Sirius would know what he meant.

"You found them?"

"Yes."

Sirius frowned slightly, then said. "Sorry I didn't give them to you, Harry. I would have, but…" he trailed off, leaving Harry to guess the rest of the sentence.

"Why not?" Harry prodded, hoping Sirius would tell him why.

"They were the last things they ever gave me in person. I wanted to keep them, I guess. I know it was selfish, but I just couldn't bring myself to give them up." Sirius looked close to crying now, unpainted tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Thank you for reading! I'm glad you liked seeing George, he will be back in a few chapters. ragsweas and Ainthe, thank you for the reviews! I know this chapter is a little short, but I think it's important to address why Sirius hadn't given Harry the letters before. Anyway... thank you again for reading, and please review!