Harry Potter and the Sphere of Demsildinh

He could still picture Sirius falling through the black veil in the Death Chamber, ever so slowly, falling out of sight. And he could not bring himself to really face the fact that Sirius was dead. He tried to force it out of his mind, constantly telling himself that it wasn't true; always clinging on to some false hope that Sirius was going to reappear one of these days. But Sirius was gone...

As the headache subsided, Harry tried to go back to sleep but to no avail. Thoughts kept running through his head. He just lay there in bed for what seemed like hours, contemplating.

Ever since he arrived at King's Cross station at the end of the school year, he never found himself to be in a good mood. There wasn't much to be in a good mood about, really. Living with the Durselys was no picnic, although they seemed to be staying out of his way more, and actually trying to be nice to him on occasion. (This was all due to a quite effective threat from several members of the Order directed at Uncle Vernon). But most of all, Harry was constantly plagued by terrible dreams which always came in hand with head-splitting pain emanating from the lightning scar on his forehead. Although Harry had nightmares for a while now, they had only gotten worse since the incident at the Ministry of Magic a month earlier.

How can I be in a good mood? Though Harry. I cannot live a normal life ... not anymore. His life would only get worse from here on. Yes. Of this Harry was convinced.

He got up off his bed and walked to the window. His room (or the room which the Durselys let him use, anyway) stood in dead silence, except for an occasional hoot from Hedwig, who slept soundly upon a perch in her cage.

It was dark outside, but there were no clouds, and the sky was full of stars. Harry had never seen a clearer sky at Little Whinging, and if he wasn't feeling as down lately he might have thought that it looked quite beautiful..

Gazing up at the stars, he noticed something strange, something that didn't seem quite right. A bright red star was wedged in the sky that stood out among the others, and it seemed as though it was flickering at him. He remembered this star from his Divination class with Firenze. It was an omen, a sign of a terrible battle soon to take place - a battle in which Harry would have to kill or be killed.

Harry's thoughts were suddenly broken by a loud snore that undoubtedly came from Uncle Vernon somewhere in the bowels of the house. Feeling that he would never be able to fall back asleep that night, Harry picked up the picture of his mother and father from the bed stand and looked at it for long while. They were waving at him with constant smiles on their faces. How he wished it all was different.

A tear started to form in his eye, but he forced himself not to cry. Instead, he walked over to the wall near the window and slumped down against it, clutching the framed picture of his parents tight over his heart. He fell sleep.

# # #

Harry woke up in the late hours of the morning, not feeling rested at all. But what can one expect from sleeping on the floor, slumped against a wall? Hedwig was not in her cage, but he didn't give it much thought as she often flew about these days, delivering him letters from members of the Order and his friends. Everyone had made a big deal about writing to Harry this summer, as though they were worried he'd get anxious and wander away from his aunt and uncle's house, as had happened before.

Besides the usual letters from Ron and Hermione, Harry received post from Lupin and Mrs. Weasely, both telling him that he must hang in there and that everyone was there for him. Even Professor McGonagall had written him a somewhat personal letter, reminding him that she had not forgotten what she had said about helping him become an Auror. Attached was a book called A Comprehensive Guide to Aurorship, on the cover was a picture of a wand crossed with a sword, forming large X.

Although Harry did not want all of the attention, he read the letters sent to him nonetheless. Somehow, hearing from everyone made him feel better. Ron, for one, kept on writing almost twice a week. It seemed that he was having a good summer practicing Quidditch with Ginny, who he said was getting quite good at being a chaser.

While Hermione did not write quite as often as Ron - only about once a week - her letters were usually longer and more informative. She kept him up to date with news summaries from the Prophet and generally tried to keep him in touch with what was going on. She also suggested that as soon as the next school year started, they should reform the D.A., but under the supervision of Dumbledore, and anyone interested could sign up. Harry didn't know how he felt about that, although he took pride in how Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron and Hermione handled themselves against the Death Eaters in June.

The next few days passed very slowly. For most of the time, he would read his schoolbooks, locked alone in his room. However, the weather outside was quite nice, and in the evenings Harry would wander out away from Privet Drive and out about Little Whinging. He did this despite everyone, and especially Mrs. Weasely, telling him to remain as close to number four Privet Drive as possible. Harry of course now knew why they all wanted him to stay near his aunt and uncle's house, but he simply could not oblige as he felt he would go mad if he didn't get away from there every now and then.

When Harry came into the kitchen for dinner after one of his evening strolls, Uncle Vernon got up and shuffled over to the living room, muttering something undoubtedly offensive under his breath. Uncle Vernon did this a lot lately as to avoid confrontation with Harry. He gave up yelling at Harry out of fear of a certain glass-eyes wizard, but his red-hot temper still flashed at times and manifested itself in the ever-so-familiar puce coloration and swelling of his face.

"Sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold," said aunt Petunia in a slightly annoyed, yet resigned tone of voice as she slipped him a plate of what did not look like remains from the previous night for a change. This took Harry quite by surprise.

"Er ... thanks," replied Harry. Though he wasn't all too hungry, he decided that he should eat anyway, since he did not feel like shunning his aunt's newfound generosity.

Aunt Petunia left the kitchen for a moment and then returned with a scroll of parchment, still sealed.

"This came while you were gone."

She dropped it on the table by Harry and left the kitchen to join Uncle Vernon. Harry heard more angry muttering coming from the living room.

Harry shoved his dinner aside and unsealed the scroll, which he saw was addressed to him:

To Mr. Harry Potter,

In light of recent events and the renewed danger owing to the fact that He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, we are sending out basic defense tip pamphlets (you may find one attached). Please practice these spells as they may prove to save your life.

We are also writing to announce that the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has been suspended until further notice.

Sincerely,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister of Magic
MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Harry read this through a few times, but was puzzled as to why the Ministry had suddenly lifted the Restriction for Underage Sorcery. From his own trial the previous year, he knew that one may use magic in life-threatening situations anyway. Why lift the entire restriction? However, Harry did not dwell on this for too long, but decided to finish his dinner before it got cold.

He decided that he would write a letter to Ron and tell him to ask his dad what it was all about. Although Mr. Weasely spent more time working for the Order than he did for the ministry lately, Harry bet that he would know..

Ron's answer came fairly quickly, along with a bagful of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes, courtesy of Fred and George Weasely. Ron informed Harry that he was equally surprised as to why the Ministry dropped the restriction, but that he didn't get a chance to ask his father since he hadn't seen him in a week ... Order business. He also threw in a few hints that despite the restriction being dropped, Mrs. Weasely still did not let him or Ginny use magic in the house. Says she'd had enough with Fred and George. Harry could almost picture Mrs. Weasley yelling at Ron for levitating his dirty socks into the laundry bin. This made him snigger.

There was another bit of interesting information in Ron's letter:

... Listen Harry, I've been helping Mum clean the attic at the Headquarters, and well, I found something of Sirius'. I've hidden it from Mum though.. She wouldn't want you to see it. But I think you should. I think it's Sirius' diary, mate. I'm holding on to it for you. If you want me to send it let me know ...

Sirius' diary?

Suddenly, Harry's mind went blank and he again saw Sirius falling through the black veil and out of sight. His heart sank. He didn't know whether he wanted to be reminded of Sirius, and perhaps Mrs. Weasely was right ... he needed to forget and let go.

But no! He had to see the diary. Perhaps he could find something in there that would lift the heavy load off his chest. He wrote back for Ron to send it over.

Several days had passed before Harry had finally received a wrapped package from Ron. Meanwhile, he spent the time taking advantage of the recently dropped Restriction for Underage Sorcery, practicing and strengthening his defensive spells and charms.

When he opened the carefully wrapped package, Harry found a black, spellotape-reinforced journal, labeled in large scrawled letters:

The diary of Sirius Black

Harry opened the journal, but to his surprise, found it completely empty. Having flipped through the entire journal, looking at every page and finding nothing but absolute blankness, Harry started to lose heart. But then he realized something... Sirius was much too clever to leave his diary unprotected in case someone found it and decided to read it. There must be an invisibility charm on it! Harry thought.

Harry checked his reference book of spells and found one that he thought would do the job.

Ortus

As he spoke the incantation, Harry expected the contents of the journal would become visible in an instant, but - to his disappointment - nothing happened. He tried again, and again, but the journal remained just as blank as it was a few minutes ago, without a sign that anyone had ever written in it..

He flipped through all of his schoolbooks and the reference book once again, trying desperately to find an incantation that would work. He tried several more, concentrating hard.

Patesco...

Resero...

Nothing ... not a word became visible.

After about half an hour of trying and getting himself nothing but frustrated, Harry threw the journal off his desk. It hit the floor and made a loud thump.

"Stupid piece of junk!" muttered Harry to himself. "Sirius probably never even wrote in it. Thanks for nothing Ron..."

Harry sat there brooding for a while and then decided not to make a big deal about it. Instead, he'd send a letter to Hermione and ask her what spells she knew that would reveal the contents of this journal, if there were any at all (which Harry now started to seriously doubt).

# # #

Harry had stowed Sirius' diary into the bottom of his trunk, along with the shattered remains of the two-way mirror. For the time being, he had given up on it. He resumed his usual day-to-day activities, avoiding the Durselys while reading and practicing alone in his room.

As the days passed, the weather just seemed to get better, which completely belied the mood that he was in. How could the weather be so nice with Voldemort about? Thought Harry, as though asking nature why it did not agree with his own feelings.

Almost every evening he would walk away from Privet Drive, past Magnolia Crescent, past the playground, through several large bushes and out to a clearing. There he found he could practice magic without being seen by muggles. Of course he wasn't stupid and he wouldn't cast spells that created a great deal of light, like the Patronus charm for example. Although he doubted anyone would see him due to the thickness and height of the bushes that covered the clearing, he did not want to risk it.

One evening, as he was climbing out of the bushes to head back for dinner, Harry spotted Dudley, his goon of a cousin, and his gang heading his way (they did not see him from a distance). Every year it seemed Dudley's gang did worse and worse in terms of terrorizing kids in little Whinging. Harry despised them. And now that he could use magic without fear of being tried or expelled, he decided to punish them a little.

He took out his wand and took a few steps back into the bushes, waiting for them to approach.
As they got closer, he could hear them chatting...

"... Oy, Big D, tha' wus a nass one, mayte!" said a tall, dark haired, scruffy looking thug, whom Harry did not recognize. "I bet 'e's in a world o' pain, righ 'bout now."

"I 'spect he is" replied Dudley, in an arrogant voice. "Suits him righ' for not handing over tha' wallet."

"How much did we take him for, anyway?" asked another one of Dudley's thugs.. This one Harry recognized as Gordon, who now arms of the size that rivaled those of Dudley himself.

"O, abou' twenty, twenty five pounds, a piece," replied Dudley and let of a great smug laugh. His whole gang joined him in laughter. HAHAHAHAHA.

Harry was now filling with rage. He couldn't take it anymore. He waved his wand at Gordon and muttered an incantation for the tripping hex. This worked quite well, as Gordon's laughter was cut short. Tripping over what seemed like an invisible rope, he fell to the pavement, face first. Harry was satisfied as it looked like Gordon might have broken his nose.

The rest of the gang bent down to help their fellow up. Blood was streaming from both of his nostrils.

"You alrigh' mayte?" asked the tall scruffy goon, whom Harry didn't know. "What wus tha' you trip'd over then?" He asked looking around at the path. There didn't seem to be anything to trip over.

"Down oww," replied Gordon in a muffled voice as more blood poured out of his nose into his hands.

"Bet you tripped over you own feet" chided Dudley. "You deserved that one."

A few gang members let out a series of chuckles that sounded more like grunts.

"Git up then, let's move."

Harry sat in the bushes twirling his wand in his hand in satisfaction, thinking of something else to do in order to make them pay a bit more. Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to mind.

He picked up a rock the size of a golf ball and levitated it. Leviosa. Then with another wave of his wand, he sent the rock on a trajectory aimed straight for the tall thug's head. It made contact with somewhat of a loud thonk.

"Oww!" yelled out the thug in pain, "who threw tha'?" He started rubbing the spot where the rock had hit. It was obviously smarting pretty badly. He looked for the first person to blame, as all thugs did. "It wus you, wasn' it?"

"Wasn't me, Carmic'l, really!" replied the another gang member who was walking behind him.

"Well you do it one more time, an' I don't partic'larly care if it wus you or not. You're getting a beati'n, you got tha'?"

"Alrigh' mate, calm down, it wasn't me, alrigh'?"

Harry let them walk a little, then hurled another bigger rock at Carmichael's neck.

"Bloody ... AOWW!" Shrieked Carmichael. "Wha' did I say?" He lashed out at the gang member behind him.

A few slandering remarks where thrown this way and that, and the next moment a fight had started among the gang members. Just as Harry had planned. Feeling grim satisfaction, he stood in the bushes watching them pound each other to pulp. Gang rivalry ... what can you do.

After the fight was over, which didn't take that long, Harry followed Dudley home, slowly catching up to him as they approached Privet Drive.

"Hey, Big D!" Harry hailed Dudley in a mocking voice.

"What do YOU want?" asked Dudley in a half annoyed, half angry voice as Harry came up alongside him.

"Oh... what happen to your face?" asked Harry, knowing quite well what happened, "You trip on something and fall face down?" Harry tried to be blatantly suggestive.

A look of realization swept across Dudley's disfigured face.

"It WAS YOU!" he roared advancing on Harry. "You git!"

"Watch your mouth!" snapped back Harry, "You and your dogs deserve every last bit of that!"

"I'm 'onna pound your face in, Potter" threatened Dudley, his fists balled and at the ready.

"I wanna see you try!" replied Harry, taking out his wand and taking a step back.

"Ha! You can't use that," a smirk showed on Dudley's beat up physiognomy, "Last time you tried you almost got expelled. You think I don't know? I was there!"

Dudley raised his fist and was about to hit Harry straight in the face, when a rope shot out of Harry wand and swept around his torso, disbalancing him and causing him to fall to the ground.

"Ha yourself!" A grin spread over Harry's face. "They allowed us to use magic outside of school now. I can do whatever I want."

Harry gave his wand another wave and Dudley was lifted into the air and flipped upside down. Harry learned that little trick from Sirius.

"LET ME DOWN!" Bellowed Dudley. "I'LL TELL DAD! HE'LL KICK YOU OUT OF OUR HOUSE, LIKE HE SHOULD HAVE DONE A LONG TIME AGO!"

"Oww... little Dudlekins gonna run to daddy?" mocked Harry. "And let him kick me out. What do I care!"

"He would if not for those maniacs threatening him at the train station!"

Harry waved his wand and Dudley was flipped the other way and tumbled to the ground. The ropes binding him had disappeared as well. Dudley was right of course. Harry would have been long gone - out of his aunt and uncle's house - if not for several members of the Order giving a little warning to Uncle Vernon. Moody had scared him half to death by showing him the glass eye.

Harry walked off toward the house numbered 4 Privet Drive, letting Dudley pick himself up off the ground. He wondered whether he agreed with Dumbledore about him being safe at Privet Drive. He knew of course that as long as he stayed with his mother blood - his aunt Petunia - he could not be harmed by Voldemort or his Death Eaters. He wondered, however, whether it was worth it at all. What does it matter if I'm safe now? I'll have to face him eventually...

# # #

Another week had passed before Hermione's reply finally came back. She apologized for about a paragraph, telling him that she had gone away for a week's trip to Bulgaria with her parents. She mentioned that she saw Viktor Krum and that he's doing quite well. Harry quickly skipped over the rest of her goings-on about Viktor, as he didn't quite care at the moment. What he really wanted to see was what she had to say about Sirius' journal.

As it turned out, Hermione had crammed the bit about the journal at the very end of her letter in a few sentences. It read:

... I don't know any other spells besides the ones you had already tried.. Why don't you try writing in it? But Harry, I really think you shouldn't read it. It will only open up old wounds (as if Harry's wounds had even healed over yet). ...

A lightbulb has suddenly flickered to life in Harry's head. Of Course! How could he have forgotten so soon? It was only three years ago that he had discovered how Tom Riddle's diary worked...

He sprang off his bed where he was reading Hermione's letter and dashed into his trunk, digging through to the bottom to find Sirius' journal. There it was! He grabbed it and took it over to the desk in a hurry. Taking out a quill and some ink, he opened the journal to the first page and wrote.

Hi.

The ink stood on the page for a second and then began to vanish, as if being absorbed by the page itself. It had worked! Harry's heart jumped. A moment later a message started to appear in handwriting that was unmistakably that of Sirius.

Hi. Who wants to know?

Harry, excited that it had worked, proceeded to write on the page...

This is Harry. Sirius, is that you?

Harry? You've got my diary. But that must mean...
What happened to me Harry?

Harry proceeded write about everything that happened into Sirius' diary, telling him about Voldemort's trick, about what happened at the Ministry, about Sirius falling through the black veil...

I know what you are going to ask. But I must tell you that if I have indeed fallen through the black veil, there is no way that I can come back.

But, what if

Harry...

Sirius' words interrupted Harry mid-sentence...

The black veil is an ancient relic, from before the time of the wizards. It is a portal that leads to another dimension - a dimension of death. Even if I wanted to come back as a ghost, I could not. The choice is not mine. I am sorry Harry.

There it was, staring Harry right in the face, the final verdict from Sirius himself. He had heard it from Lupin and even Dumbledore, but somehow that wasn't enough. Yet now, he was hearing it from Siruis himself. There was no way out of the place where the black veil had taken him. Sirius was truly.... gone. Harry's heart sank lower than it had gone before as the final dregs of hope abandoned him.

I know how you must feel. Believe me, I do not take this news of my death lightly either.

But look on the bright side, Harry. At least you can talk to me through this diary. I will be there for you as much as I can.

Harry's quill remained in his hand, unmoving. Ink dripped off the tip of the quill and hit the journal page. The drops spread into blotchy smears, and were absorbed by the page in a few seconds.

Harry, do not blame yourself, whatever you do. If anything, it is my fault. It was my decision to go and get you out of there. And it looks like I succeeded. Nothing else matters more to me than to know that you are well.

Harry finally made some effort to answer Sirius' words. His hand slowly lowered to the page.

I am

Harry lingered for a moment, and then wrote.

How can I not blame myself, Sirius? I fell for Voldemort's trick and that's why you're gone!

No! You tried to save me. For that I am proud of you, no matter how rash that decision might have been. I gave my life for you Harry, and I gave it gladly. I'd do it again!

Harry understood what Sirius was telling him, but was still no quite ready to accept it. Sirius was gone... and to him it might as well have been his fault. He would not be able to see his godfather ever again. At least this diary remained, through which Harry could hold on to a part of Sirius. Trying to change the subject, he wrote:

Sirius, what is this diary?

I'm glad you ask...

When I went to look for Kreacher in the attic around Christmas, I stumbled upon this diary, an old thing from my school days. I decided that it might be a good idea to preserve myself in it, so that if anything should happen to me you could still have me to turn to.

Every day, up until the time I went after you to the Ministry of Magic, I recorded my thoughts and memories into these pages. It is not a difficult bit of magic; it just takes a lot of time. But seeing how I was stuck at home with nothing to do... well you get the idea.

Hah... I guess I was right to spend the time on it after all, wasn't I?

It wasn't as good as the real thing, but talking to Sirius made Harry feel a whole lot better. Sirius told (or rather wrote) Harry about his school years in more detail and about his adventures with Harry father, James. Sirius kept on saying, as always, that Harry reminded him a lot of James. All of this made Harry feel better than he felt in the last month. Suddenly, the Durselys' house didn't seem as bad anymore.

Harry spent the next few days almost entirely in his room, conversing with Sirius' diary. He asked many questions, questions which he wanted to but never got the chance to ask Sirius in the flesh. And then he asked Sirius the one other thing that was hanging on his mind, unresolved.

Sirius, how come there is no way back from behind the black veil?

I was afraid you would ask that sometime. The truth is, just like there are many paths to choose during life, there are many to choose in death. As you may know, some stay back and remain as ghosts after they die, while others go on. When one passes through the black veil, as I had, there is no choice but to go on. It is a one-way ticket, Harry.

But where do you go when you go on? I don't understand.

That I cannot answer. I simply do not know, to tell you the truth. I do no think anyone knows. Because once you have gone on, there is no way back.

So, do you think my mom and dad have gone on?

Ahh... you ask all the right questions, Harry. All the right questions that are difficult to answer. But... I am afraid that your mom and dad were not as fortunate.

What do you mean?

Of all the answers that Sirius could have given him, Harry was not expecting that one.

Your parents were good people, and should they have died under different circumstances, they would have gone on to a better place. But your parents were killed by Voldemort.

Do you remember your fourth year? You said that when you dueled Voldemort, it seemed as if the spirits of those that he killed, including your parents, came out to help you. Do you remember that, Harry?

Harry remembered, but he did not understand how that had anything to do with what Sirius was now telling him.

Yes. I remember, wrote Harry, his hand trembling.

Then let me tell you this... most of Voldemort's power comes from those that he had murdered. Their spirits still remain under his control, providing fuel for his powers.

When you faced Voldemort, he was weakened and had briefly lost control over those spirits. That is why they came out to help you.

Your parents' spirits, along with countless others, are still trapped under his control. I am afraid they can not rest until he is no more.