The Voice from the Mirror

The Voice from the Mirror

Remus Lupin entered the front hall of 12 Grimmauld Place, trailed by Arthur and Molly Weasley. Tonks was already there and came running up the stairs from the kitchen, knocking over the same troll's leg umbrella stand, which had been moved in hopes of having it crash down the stairs and out of the hall. However, it didn't work; the huge crash resounded around the room.

"Oh, sorry! God, I'm sick of that thing!" Tonks moaned.

"It's all right, dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed, too tired to be exasperated.

It was only after this exchange, after the group had braced themselves for the shrieks and curses from Mrs. Black, that they realized it was quiet. Remus looked at the three of them, then at the wall where the curtains hung.

"He moved the portrait," Remus said quietly.

Sure enough, the wall behind the curtains was bare. Sirius had probably been waiting for someone to make noise in the hall so he could say something undoubtedly witty about finding a solution to the Sticking Charm.

Molly turned to Remus, who was still gazing at the bare wall.

"I'll go make something to eat. You...come down whenever you feel like it, all right?" she said.

"Yes, that's fine, thank you, Molly," Remus replied absently, turning to walk up the stairs.

The fact that Remus had lost three best friends at once didn't make it any easier to deal with losing one for the second time. There had been so much hope, now that Sirius was back. It had been almost like old times for the past year or so. Remus had never fully believed that Sirius had done the thing that had sent him to prison. However, he couldn't have imagined Peter being guilty of it. That isolation had been bad enough. But this-after the loneliness had been lifted and then shattered back down upon him-this was akin to a form of torture.

At least there's some closure this time, he thought.

Remus intended to go to his room and try to sleep before the rest of the Order deemed it safe to show up, but in a sudden change of mind, veered in the direction of Sirius's room. Molly had asked him to go through Sirius's things when he was ready.

Sirius's recent life of hiding had forced him to limit the number of his belongings, so the room wasn't at all cluttered. Remus stood in the doorway for awhile, looking around at the objects that contained such memories. Finally, he started putting things in two piles on the bed: one for Harry, and one for things he would decide about later.

He felt funny thinking about Harry. Should Sirius's godson be going through his godfather's things?

It's probably better if I do it, explain things to him. He wouldn't know what to do with them; how could he?

What would Harry do now? Where would he turn? Every person able to comfort the boy only caused him to recall the few times he had had with Sirius. Remus wanted so desperately to reach out to Harry, to let him know that he was not alone. But how, exactly, could he? They had both had such similar experiences in life: both abandoned by people they had loved, both accused of being a traitor at certain points in time, given false hope, shunned because of situations over which they had no control. But Harry didn't even have the benefit of a normal, wonderful childhood in his memory to cling to, to keep him sane.

Here was Sirius's knife that opened locks.

But not all locks

, Remus thought ruefully, thinking of Harry's identical, ruined one. Harry should be happy to have this. Onto Harry's pile.

Suddenly, as he was rummaging through a chest of random bits and pieces, Remus heard a slightly muffled voice speak from across the room: "Sirius."

Remus froze and then slowly turned his head to the bedside table. He recognized the small mirror immediately; the number of times he'd seen his friends talking into it and used it himself...his first thought was "James?"

"Sirius Black." Then Remus realized.

"Harry." He hurried to the mirror, stupidly forgetting about his wand, just in time to see Harry's black-framed face seemingly floating in the air inside it, looking angry.

But before he could look directly into the mirror as was required in order to talk into it, Harry's head disappeared and a shattering crash rang from inside the small rectangle, causing Remus to jump. He slowly picked up the mirror, but the smooth surface would no longer reflect anything. All that was visible was a deep, filling blackness. Harry had broken his mirror.

"Oh, Harry," Remus sighed. He carried the little rectangle over to the bed, hesitated with his hand over Harry's pile, and finally placed it on top of the other.

It may just make him angry to see this, he thought. After debating with himself about whether he should mention the mirrors to Harry, he finally decided that the wisest decision would be to wait. Until what time, there was no telling.

Continuing to rummage within the chest, a bit shaken, Remus came across a pile of folded pieces of parchment. What writing could Sirius have wanted to keep? Remus hesitated only for a moment before unfolding the first parchment. It began "Dear Sirius." It was Harry's most recent letter, written in code and talking about his scar. Lupin smiled slightly and opened the second piece. Again, from Harry. Rifling through all of them, Remus saw every letter or note Harry had ever written to Sirius, going further and further back to the first ever, written in the summer before Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, while he suffered at the Dursleys'. This one was obviously well read; there were wrinkles and worn patches on the parchment.

Remus sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.