Momenti Mori

Prologue
Since Sirius had died Harry had refused to listen to any conversation or to go anywhere involving the Department of Mysteries. This, Ron and Hermione found, was a hard topic to avoid, seeing as there were matters to discuss, such as who inherited 12 Grimmauld place. Despite Harry moping around like it was the end of the world, and Mrs. Black shouting thanks to Bellatrix every time someone passed her, the Weasleys, Remus Lupin and the rest of the Order seemed to be in high spirits. This made not only Harry, but Ron and Hermione seethe with anger. Buckbeak had also noticed the absence of Sirius; he paced up and down in Mrs. Black's room, clicking his beak and whining day and night, which was starting to drive everyone mad.
* * *
It was a light evening, and Harry James Potter sat watching the sunset out of the grimy window which belonged to the (insert better adjective, grimy has already been used in this sentence - may be intended effect but just sounds like you have a limited vocabulary)-looking bedroom with he shared with a not so grimy Ron. Over the last few weeks this had become a hobby; watching the sun set in a liaison of red and orange over the grey rooftops of London. There was a loud knock on the bedroom door which caused Harry to jump, and almost fall off of the thin windowsill on which he was precariously perched. Mrs. Weasley bustled in, tidying the boys' unmade beds as she spoke toa quick, almost excited voice,
"There is someone downstairs to see you." She paused and looked at him, beaming, her vibrant red hair contrasting greatly with the dark room.
"Come on, tidy yourself up, and then come down to the kitchen."
She beamed again and bustled out humming the latest tune from the weird sisters. (Ron had bewitched the grandfather clock to chime it every hour).
Hastily, Harry ran a comb through his dark hair and checked himself in the mirror ("Tuck your shirt in"), which was never afraid to voice it's opinion and descended the creaking staircase down to the kitchen. The kitchen was dark and smelt strongly of coffee and cooking. Around the heavy wooden table sat the members of the Order and Professor Dumbledore. The old man stood up, his long beard tucked neatly into his belt, and motioned for Harry to sit down. Obligingly, he did so, looking expectantly around at the Order, wondering why he was there.
"Harry," Dumbledore started, "I need to talk to you about Sirius."
Harry looked at him - he did not want to talk about his Godfather, it was in the past - but he found himself replying,
"O-okay."
The headmaster smiled, "Harry, I have not been entirely honest with you,"("Blah blah, blah" Harry got a strong sense of de ja vu) "this may shock you;" ("Blah, origami pants, blah, oranges" Yeah, like anything could shock him now) "Sirius is not dead."
Harry looked at him, bordly.
"Yeah, and my parents aren't dead either. Did I forget to tell you? Voldemort invited me to his birthday party. Got to go." He got up quickly, only to be forced firmly down by Lupin.
"Harry, you must believe me. Sirius hasn't left this house since before you went to the Department of Mysteries."
"So, who died then? And where is Sirius?"
The squeak of rusty hinges came from under the large table followed by the sound of a door closing. There wasnuffling and a large, black dog emerged from under the table looking none the worse for wear. A wave of shock and relief flooded over Harry as he embraced his godfather, who had taken his natural form. Sirius hugged his godson back.
"But who died then?"
Silence flooded over the Order, before Lupin spoke.
"A member of the order offered to..." he paused, searching for the right wording, "...Offered to help Sirius by taking a polyjuice potion so she could become him."
Harry though for a second.
"She? Where's Tonks? Not Tonks?"
"No, not Tonks, she's in bed with the flu. Mrs. Figg, who lived near the Dursleys. She felt it was essential to keep both you and Sirius safe; the whole polyjuice potion was her idea. God rest her soul!"
The whole kitchen sat in silence, remembering the old lady, until Harry announced he had to go and let Hedwig out of her cage. Quickly, he sprinted up the stairs into his and Ron's room. On the bed was a neatly wrapped package addressed to him and a large screech owl was perched on top of the wardrobe next to Pigwidgeon. Harry opened Hedwig's cage, shooed her and the screech owl out of the open window and threw some owl treats up to Pigwidgeon who hooted lazily.
Carefully, he began unwrapping the packaged, layer by layer for what seemed like an age, until a silver thimble fell onto the bed. He looked at it for a second. Who would send him a thimble? As he picked it up he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and then a sudden jolt from somewhere behind his navel. Without any warning he was pulled forward into a kaleidoscope of colours leaving the dark room and a shrieking Pigwidgeon far behind him.

Before he knew it, Harry was standing by a dense wood, and a familiar scene lay before him.