Tribute to a Fallen Star

Harry looked down from his perch on the battlements of Gryffindor Tower. A cold wind blew past, ruffling Harry's as he sat on the ancient stone. He scrunched his eyes up and brought his knees to his chest as the whistling wind threatened to topple his broomstick, his only lifeline, and send it flying down into the Forbidden Forest below. He caught the handle just before it disappeared into the blackness beyond.

The whispering of the wind painfully reminded him of another place. Dark and Mysterious, the veil hung in the old archway now held the remains of the only real father figure he had ever known.

"Sirius," Harry whispered, clutching the handle of his Firebolt. He looked up at the heavens but couldn't seem to find the thing he sought. He twisted around to scan the horizon for the brightest star in the sky--the Dog Star. Frustrated with his ill luck, he moved his gaze to his broomstick, watching the way his hand gripped the handle. Not only his lifeline to the world beyond, but also to a past life, a carefree life Harry now so desperately wished to have still.

The death of Harry's parents had certainly weighed on his mind in the past few years, yet he never had experienced the full grieving process after their demise. After all, he was only a year old when they died. In the past, they only frequented him in his dreams; their last few moments replayed as the only audio in the growing darkness of his mind, yet a new image would taunt him endlessly for many years to come.

The death of Harry's godfather had hit him in an entirely new and horrifically real way. The stunned, but still half-grinning look on his face as he sailed in an arc through the air and vanished forever beyond the veil would be the new picture in his mind.

Harry scrunched his eyes tighter, trying to block the haunting image from view. From the depths of his memory rose the thin face and hooded eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, laughing at him cruelly

Harry clenched his other hand around the wand at his side. He wanted to kill. A surging hatred rose up from the very center of his heart. Red now obscured his vision--the colour of blood.

Harry had sworn unto himself that he would avenge his godfather's death. He would make Bellatrix pay. She had said he didn't have enough hatred behind his curse. Next time, he vowed silently, next time he would use Cruciatus...

And he would enjoy it.

It was hard for Harry to imagine a life without Sirius. He had, though, spent twelve years of his life without him, and even did, at one point, feel this same burning anger fill his insides when he thought of the once convicted, yet innocent, man.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," he murmured aloud. "How could I have ever thought you'd betray Mum and Dad? You would die for them; you died for me. You died because of me..."

He trailed off, looking up into the twinkling starlight, watching the stars blur as he felt the all to familiar prickle at the corner's of his eyes.

"Harry?" a voice behind him called out.

Harry nearly jumped forward off the tower in surprise. He turned around, wand at the ready, to find Hermione Granger in midair just behind him, clutching her broomstick, hands pale and shaking, with every appearance of fright. Her eyes, though, were filled with concern for the figure sitting in front of her.

Harry turned back to his original position, lowering his wand and again staring dumbly into space.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"I was," she stammered, landing cautiously on the ledge beside him, "I was just wondering where you'd gone off to again."

"So what?" he asked, a little colder than he'd intended.

"So," she continued, "I was worried about where you'd been going these past few days. Ron told me you haven't been sleeping very well and..."

Harry snorted. Well spotted, he remarked inwardly, I'm sure if you were haunted constantly by the death of Sirius you wouldn't sleep well either.

"So Ron lent me his broom and I waited at the entrance to the girl's dormitories and saw you leave through the large tower window. I followed you here."

"Oh," said Harry hotly, "so now you're spying on me? What, am I not to be trusted? Do you think I'm gonna go off on another 'Hero's' quest and get more people from the Order killed?"

"No! Harry, I..."

"You said so yourself, Hermione," he said bitterly. "You said I loved to play the part of the hero."

"Harry, I didn't mean..."

"Sirius was in no danger! I was the one who got him killed, no matter what Dumbledore says...it's my fault."

He turned away from her shadowed form, trying to ignore the hot lump rising in his throat. He could feel Hermione's warm weight sit down beside him He hadn't realized he was shivering till he found a steady, warm hand atop his own.

"You cannot blame yourself for everything, Harry, it was Sirius' choice to come and fight with the Order..."

"Only because he couldn't live with himself if he had not tried to help me."

"Exactly," she whispered. "Isn't it better that he died a heroic death? He died protecting the only person left that he loved. He died protecting the closest thing he had to a son. Isn't that worth dying for? If you are our only chance at surviving Voldemort, Harry, if the Prophecy is true..."

Harry looked up at Hermione. Her warm brown eyes looked down bashfully as Harry realized the significance of her words.

"How...how long have you known?" he finally stammered.

"Professor Dumbledore told me," she said, looking up. "He told me tonight, right after the leaving feast, oh Harry!"

"Who else knows? Ron?"

Hermione shook her head. "No one else. But listen..."

"I don't want to talk about it," he interrupted, once more turning away, "not yet."

"I understand," she replied softly.

There was a long silence following this. Harry absentmindedly played with the now-frayed cuff of his sleeve. He only awoke when he heard a faint sniff beside him. He turned to see Hermione wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her own school robes.

He purposely looked back down, now staring at his dangling feet before he spoke; "You said Sirius died trying to save me. That's certainly not the first person to die trying to save me. I'm just one pitiful person, living only at the expense of others."

"Your parents loved you very much, Harry, as did Sirius. What parent wouldn't put their child's life before their own?"

"But think of all the other's who will die, are willing to die, just to save me? Not just because of the prophecy, but..."

"...Because they care." Hermione finished. "That is what love is truly about, Harry."

"What? Putting your life on the line for a lost cause?"

"This isn't a lost cause, Harry. You are not a lost cause. Believe me. I know it's hard, I know that so many believe you to be a savior. I know it must be hard to swallow all this. You are still a kid. So am I, but I know..." she broke off, and Harry could feel her shifting uncomfortably beside him.

"I would die for you," she whispered finally.

Harry looked up at her downcast eyes. He felt a warm surge go through his veins, immediately followed by cold dread, icy as death.

"That's the problem," he said spitefully, "everyone I care for ends up dead."

Hermione looked up, frightened and hurt by what he said. He turned from her, waiting for her harsh words. They never came.

Instead, he felt her warm arms wrap him in a tight embrace. He shifted to face her and in a moment he found himself holding her just as tight.

"I would die for you too," he whispered in her hair.

"I know," she spoke into his shoulder, "You've come close so many times, risking your life for me, for Ron, for all of us..."

She broke the embrace and looked up into Harry's eyes. "Oh Harry," she cried, "I know you don't try to be the hero, I know that, well, you have to be the hero and..."

"Shhh," he silenced her, finding her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Tonight, right here and now, I have no enemies, no plans, I am not the hero. Right now, I'm just plain Harry."

He tried smiling at her and found it was not as difficult as he thought it would be. She smiled back at him and he felt her hand grip his a bit tighter.

They spoke no more words that night, but sat atop Gryffindor Tower, hand in hand, looking out at the horizon beyond. For the first time in a long time, hate or worry or sorrow did not cloud Harry's thoughts. There was only him and Hermione and the gentle peace that surrounded them.

It was the first time in his life that Harry felt nothing but that wonderful, unspoken love, and he knew it was the last time he would for a very long time. He smiled inwardly as the power of his heart gave him new strength to face what lay ahead.

They sat there a long time, till the gentle rays of the morning sun came, and just before dawn, Harry saw, above the horizon, a bright and very recognizable star.

Sirius.