My stamina gave out and I found myself leaning on a gate, breathing hard.

I closed my eyes and tried to control my emotions. Raylynx, you've got to calm yourself down. Calm yourself!

"I know," I wheezed, between breaths, "I know, I know."

"What do you know?"

Startled, I looked up to see a tall, ashy-bearded man standing on the other side of the gate, in the cemetery.

"I…I didn't realize you were there," I said, still catching my breath.

"Clearly, because you also didn't realize that you were blocking my way," the man said, indicating that I was leaning on the gate that was only way in or out of the cemetery, unless you wanted to climb over the gate or bushes.

"Sorry," I said immediately, backing away. He passed through the gate and all the while, I couldn't seem to take my eyes off him.

"Have I got something on my face?" he asked gruffly.

I hesitated and then told the truth, "You look like someone I know, that's all."

"Who's that?"

I hesitated again. This man was a Muggle.

"You wouldn't know him," I said, "but his name is Dumbledore."

The man's eyebrows raised and he said grimly, "That's a damn shame."

"You know him?" I asked, shocked. Then, is this man a wizard?

"No, a damn shame that you misinterpreted my question," the man replied. He nodded towards the end of the street. "I was asking you if you knew who that fellow was."

I turned to look and saw James half-jogging, half-walking down the sidewalk, his head turning side to side like a gangly giraffe's. He was obviously looking for me.

"Oh, yeah, he's a frien-"

When I turned back, the man was gone. My eyebrows narrowed in confusion and suspicion, but there wasn't much time to ponder.

"Ray!" James called and he jogged up to me. "Why'd you take off like that? You had us worried."

"I didn't have my head on straight," I replied shamefully. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have to apologize, but I kind-of wish you'd tell me what was going on," James said, "I know we're not exactly best mates, but you should still be able to talk to me when something's wrong."

We began to cross the street but stepped back and waited for a car to pass.

"James," I said suddenly, "have you ever thought of being a Seeker?"

"Actually, I was originally going to try out as Seeker, but when I heard another Kingsley was trying out, I decided against it. Anyways, why, what's up?"

Any other day, any other second, I would have felt so pleased with the praise I'd just heard- because I had tried out as Seeker, James Potter hadn't.

But satisfaction was the furthest thing from my heart as I replied emptily, "You should give it a go this year."

I stared straight ahead as I said it, unwilling to look him in the face.

"You're just saying that 'cause you want me to be properly smashed by a Bludger for once," James replied, pretending to be hurt.

A smile broke through my mask and I shook my head. "No, I mean it. And if you don't remember- you were already smacked in the face by a Bludger before- in front of your darling Lily Evans."

I laughed. James scowled.

"No, but truly," I pressed him again, trying to disguise the seriousness in my voice as nonchalance, "I mean it, try out."

James' expression faded to solemnity and he replied earnestly, "Look, whatever Sirius said, he was just joking, all right? He was just taking the mickey out of you because that's what he does. You shouldn't take it seriously. I mean, he's not completely a twat, he's just…"

"A twat," I finished for him.

"Well, yeah," James mumbled, "but he's my best mate. Him and Remus and Peter."

"I know," I replied. "Look, it's not about that. It's just…play Seeker, James."

James looked at me with an inscrutable expression as we walked down to the walkway up to his house. I struggled to keep my face emotionless.

"Wait," I said, stopping. "Where's Sirius? And what about the broomsticks?"

"Mum came after us just as we started after you," James grinned ruefully. "She was livid that Sirius was already out and about. So she forced him inside and took our brooms away."

"Your mother is invincible."

"You say that with glee, I say that in despair."


James' room was now totally cramped, what with the addition of Sirius' couch-bed crammed in with James' originally existing bed, bookcase, desk, and most of all, his gigantic pile of dirty laundry.

"Listen," James said, "it's almost Sirius' birthday, so we're going to Diagon Alley in a couple days. You want to come? You could buy him a present."

"Mmm," I said non-committedly. Buy Sirius Black a present? He'd probably chuck it out the window. Like he chucked my scarf away.

"I dunno why Mum doesn't just magick away my laundry or let Dusky sort it out. Or she could just let me use magic, the Ministry wouldn't know. But it 'builds character', she says. What a load of rubbish. It's obvious she just wants me to taste the pain of true suffering," James said dramatically, starting to sort dirty shirts from even dirtier shirts.

"You don't sort by color? I asked, interested. "Or by fabric?"

"What? No, of course not," James scoffed. "Imagine putting cleaner robes with dirty ones- you'd vanish the clean ones trying to get the charm to work properly on the dirty ones."

"Oh."

"You didn't know? Oh, that's right, I forgot you're Muggle-born."

"Did you?" I said quietly. "I never do."

James paused with his sod-awful dirty Quidditch robes in one hand and a wrinkled, dirty sock that looked as though it hadn't seen the light of day in a century in the other and looked up at me.

"Ray, you know that's all rubbish, don't you?" he said seriously. "None of its true. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He threw the Quidditch robes into a pile and picked up something else.

"But the thing is," I replied in an even more subdued voice, "that it doesn't have to be true for people to believe in it. For people to act on it."

"Like they did to my brother," I said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Aha!" Sirius burst into the room, sporting fresh bandages, courtesy of the invicible Mrs. Potter. "There they are- your lucky Muggle-contraption-rocketship underpants!"

Sirius pointed at what James had absent-mindedly picked up during our conversation- indeed, his underpants was covered with rocketships. As for whether these rocketships were lucky, well… But there was no time to ponder as Sirius made a pounce for them.

"No!" James shouted under Sirius' weight. "They're mine!"

"But I wanna wear them!" Sirius shouted back and the struggle ensued.

"Accio Underpants!"

"Protego!"

"Furnunculus!"

"Densangeo!"

Boom!

I gaped at the huge hole blasted in the wall, with white debris falling down, covering us in what looked like early December snow.

"Right then," Mr. Potter appeared at the doorway, with a victorious glint in his eye. "It's been a day, so you boys owe me a hundred Galleons."


I had Mrs. Potter's old room all to myself that night.

I lay in bed, unable to sleep as all sorts of thoughts swarmed into my head.

Flying had been a refuge for me throughout all my years, but that terrifying, swooping feeling in my stomach when I was up there. That man cloaked in black…the foreboding of death was so strong when I was up there…

Jamie, please, Jamie please wake up.

Until you do, I won't be able to fly. Because how can I be up there flying when you're not?

A sense of shame and guilt overwhelmed me.

But the other disturbing factor was had to do with the question of how I had seen this all int he first place. Is it really what happened or did I make this up?

I tried to remember back to what had triggered all this. It had been in Mrs. Potter's room, just the other day. Strangely, my mother looked down as though she felt guilty. I reached over and took her hand. She looked up at me with fierce eyes and I blinked.

"Moth-?"

Bam! I flinched.

The sound had come from downstairs, most likely the front door. The sense of foreboding I had told me this wasn't another one of James' and Sirius' brawls.

I immediately jumped out of bed, grabbing my wand.

I heard Mr. and Mrs. Potter move downstairs and I jumped out of bed, grabbing my wand before going out into the hallway.

I quickly made my way down the stairs and to the entrance room just as Mr. Potter opened the door with his wand out.

"Expelliarmus!" Mr. Potter's wand went spinning into the air behind him.

A tall man who was the spitting image of Sirius Black, except with graying hair and sharp, scary eyes, and a most unpleasant aura which made the skin tingle, pointed a wand directly in Mr. Potter's face, "Where is he?"

"I don't know who you're talking about," Mr. Potter remained quite steady, even impressively cheerful.

"Don't you?" the man growled. "I know he's here, that bastard called 'my eldest son'."

"Surely he's not your son," Mr. Potter replied firmly, this time a hint of steel in his voice. "Not when it's you who abused him."

"Bring him down," the man ordered, jabbing his wand at Mr. Potter's chest. Meanwhile, I saw Mrs. Potter's hand inch towards her own wand in her dressing robe.

There seemed to be a fire flickering in Mr. Potter's eyes, though his voice was quite calm as he said slowly, "You can't have him back."

"Excuse me?" the man said menacingly, stepping inside the house. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do with my son, you filthy blood traitor."

"Sirius!" he shouted ferociously.

"I'd like you to lower your voice," Mr. Potter said, not backing away from Sirius' father though their faces were nearly touching. "It's the middle of the night, see. People are sleeping."

Sirius' father snarled in Mr. Potter's face. "I'll put you to sleep if you don't-"

At that moment, Sirius and James appeared behind me. I tried to push them back up the stairs and out of sight, but it was too late.

"You!" Sirius' father shouted loudly. "You have the nerve to come here, to a blood traitor's house, do you, boy? I suppose they're the only ones that are low enough scum to accept the likes of you!"

"Sirius," Mr. Potter said quietly, not turning away from Sirius' raving father, "do you want to go back?"

Sirius stared, dumb-struck at his father. James' shoulder nudged Sirius' but years and years of fear had rendered him senseless, frozen to his spot.

"Sirius?" Mr. Potter asked gently.

Sirius seemed to wake up a little. He shook his head firmly and glaring at his father said in a flat voice, "I'd rather die."

"You dishonorable blood traitor! You get down here right now before I Crucio you again!"

Mrs. Potter suddenly stepped forward and sharply jabbed her wand into the man's chest and snarled, "Get out of my house. Do you hear me? Get away from my children."

I trembled at the sudden thunderstorm in Mrs. Potter's voice. Even Sirius' father stopped, realizing that this was a woman who would stop at nothing to protect her loved ones standing behind her right now.

"Get. Out."

Mrs. Potter's voice was just a whisper, but it shivered with violent energy.

"I hope you all kill him with your own hands. It's no more than the death than he deserves," Sirius' father hissed angrily and then Disapparated with a loud crack!

There was a deafening silence.

Mrs. Potter pointed her wand at the door. "Colloportus." The door made an odd squelching noise that sounded as though all the cracks had the air sucked out of it.

"Harold, your wand," Mrs. Potter picked it up from the ground and handed it to him.

"You're lovely, you are," Mr. Potter said warmly, looking down at his wife with admiring eyes.

"Well, then," he said, turning to us and reverting back to his humble, cheerful disposition, "that's finally over and done with. Shall we all crack on to bed then?"

Sirius was still frozen, obviously distraught.

"Mate, let's get up to bed," James said softly.

When Sirius till didn't respond, James turned to me and said, "I pull, you push?"

"Yeah," I said, and placing my hands on Sirius' shoulders, we began to guide him up the stairs when suddenly a loud thunk! made me pause. James, who had forgotten his glasses had run into the wall, and fallen back on his arse.

"Prongs?" Sirius said. "You all right?"

"I'm positively spiffing, old pal, except I can't see a thing without my glasses. Where are they anyhow?" James replied, unsteadily getting to his feet. Mrs. Potter rushed forward and grabbed his arm to help him up.

"Oh, you must've left them by your bed when I dragged you out. Sorry," Sirius said.

"I'll go get them for you," Mr. Potter said, moving around us to get upstairs.

"Is that you, Mum?" James asked.

"Yes, dear."

"Your nails are awfully long, mum. I thought they were the claws of Satan."

Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes, "Thanks! Thanks for making your old mum feel really good about herself. How I raised you… Obviously I made a drastic mistake…" She let go of James and started to turn around, shrieking loudly when she nearly collided head-on with Mr. Potter.

And with a loud grumble about "Boys!", Mrs. Potter left the stairs to her own room.

Shrugging in a sort-of bemused way, Mr. Potter turned to James with his glasses, saying, "Here you are, son."

"You know, James," I said, when Mr. Potter had also left, "we always had the option of me pulling and you pushing."

"Oh", James said lamely, putting on his glasses and heading up the stairs. "Right. Obvious. Why didn't I think of that?"

Suddenly, Sirius spoke, "Listen, mate, this isn't… this isn't right."

"What are you talking about?" James asked.

"Your family is dealing with my problems. If it weren't for me, they'd never have to deal with lunatics like my father!" Sirius' voice rose as he continued, "It was ridiculously selfish of me, to have come to your house! I shouldn't stay here- what if he comes again and decides to hurt your father-?"

"Padfoot," James interjected. "You're worrying about all the wrong things! First of all, no offense to your father, but I don't think he can lay a single spell on my father or my mother. Secondly, when you came here, I was two seconds away from inviting you over anyways. Thirdly, to be honest, if you'd gone anywhere else, even to Moony's or Wormtail's, I'd have felt rather insulted."

"So," James said triumphantly, "shut up!"

Sirius still looked somewhat unconvinced but I couldn't help but smile. It was a different side to their friendship. It wasn't as flamboyant as the one we saw at Hogwarts, amidst their pranks and jokes, but it was just as, if not more, essential, and it came from the heart.

"Night, Ray," James said, when we came to my door.

"Night," I responded, and my eyes lingered for the slightest moment on Sirius.

Strange, a boy who could belong anywhere he wanted at Hogwarts feels that he has no right to belong anywhere else. Maybe even inside Hogwarts, he doesn't really feel as though he belongs. He rejects the place he should be amongst the Slytherins, but even so, he must be aware that Gryffindor had never meant to welcome him. Perhaps that's why he's always so eager to prove to the world that he's a Gryffindor. Because it helps him fight his own insecurities.

For the first time, I truly felt pity for Sirius Black.