I would have updated sooner but I was busy painting my room. It was meant to be green in the honor of our favourite Slytherin head of house, but somehow it turned out more turquoise. My advice to everyone else, get someone to paint for you. It's exhausting! Hopefully next chapter will be the encounter with Lupin. Also thanks for the reviews. Jordina, I might just use your idea. ;)
One Letter Missing
Harry looked curiously at the owl that had landed on Ron's bed, before turning back to stare at the map.
Well this was ridiculous; according to the map a dead man had just ran to him and stood precisely by his side. Harry stuck out his hand and waved it around him, not really expecting to bump into any invisible being.
He was disappointed to realise that the map he had relied on using for a great many situations that were sure to arise, not to mention adventures and rule-breaking, was so obviously faulty. He was just pondering the loss when the flapping of wings and the hooting of the owl brought it to his attention that not only had the bird not left, but was currently chasing Scabbers around the room, the letter still attached to his limb.
Well Ron would certainly kill him if he found out that Harry had done nothing to save the lazy rat from painful death, so he went to his rescue.
After a slightly painful struggle with the owl who was intent on getting inside his pocket, where Scabbers had sought refuge, he finally immobilized the troublesome thing and snatched the parchment from it, swearing under his breath.
He threw the letter on Ron's bed side table, took the owl to the window and released it from the spell only a moment before throwing him out the window. He then took out the frail shivering rat from his pocket and put it down.
"It's gone. You are safe" but the rat continued to tremble.
Harry sighed and decided to read a bit to pass the time before bed, but could not concentrate on anything. His thoughts were far away.
"Harry you are being awfully quiet, is everything alright?" asked Hermione the next morning at breakfast.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about…you know…Sirius Black."
"Harry, please tell me you have given up the crazy idea of…."
"Yes Hermione!" He interrupted her vehemently "I'm not going to look for him. It's about something else. Something to do with…" he contemplated for a second; should he tell them?
"You know the map Fred and George gave me, yeah? The Marauders map?"
"yeah. But you said Professor Lupin took…"
"Let me finish, will you? Do you know you who the Marauders are?"
"Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail and Prongs?" Ron said uncertainly.
"They are Sirius Black," Hermione gasped but he continued on "Professor Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and my dad." He finished.
"Are you sure? How do you know?"
"I… received a letter…from my dad."
Hermione gave him a worried, almost pitying look and Ron said "Mate, how can you receive a letter from your dad when he is…"
"Dead, I know. It's not like that. When they were students here, apparently a teacher asked them to write a letter to their future selves and she would send them out in 20 years. Well, she thought I might want to receive them instead."
"So what now?"
"Nothing; Guess I'm just going to ask Lupin about it."
At that moment a small Huflepuff boy approached them, "Harry Potter?"
"Professor Snape said to tell you that 'you better be there for detention today or he'll make it a double.'"
"Right; thanks" Harry said darkly. The boy gave him an apologetic look and went.
"As if you were the one who wasn't there yesterday" Ron mumbled.
Classes went by fast that day, and all too soon afternoon arrived. The last thing Harry wanted was to spend time in the same room with Snape. Not that it was ever pleasant before but after reading his letter, well it was downright weird.
As he walked towards the dungeons, he wondered what had caused Snape to miss the detention yesterday. Could he have just forgotten? As if Snape would forget…
"Enter, Mr. Potter" came the potion's professor's deep voice. He hadn't realised he had knocked.
Snape was sitting at his desk with a pile of parchments in front of him.
"You shall be picking out the newt's eyes and separate them from the frog's eyes" he said maliciously without looking up, pointing towards a desk on which there seemed to be a pile of slime with red and yellow eye balls in it. Harry grimaced. "and once you are done, you shall clean the desk."
"Yes sir" He replied through gritted teeth, but did not move towards the desk.
"Today, Mr. Potter!" Snape snapped. He reluctantly walked over to the desk, and as he moved he became more and more aware of the disgusting stench surrounding it. He screwed up his face and reached for his bag to get out his gloves when
"There is no need to use gloves. They are completely harmless to the skin, I assure you." Snape said nastily.
Harry looked at him with loathing, barely restraining himself from saying something that would put him into more trouble. I can't believe my mum was ever friends with that git, he thought. And he hoped to marry her! He shuddered, but then smirked. Serves him well! I hope my mum put him in his place.
As he worked his way slowly yet furiously through the eyes, Snape sat down in contemplation. He couldn't remember exactly what he had done with that letter in his anger, except throw it at the fire place. Perhaps it had burnt…; it couldn't just disappear. He reached for the 5th year essays that he had to correct and chanced a look at Potter. For some reason, the boy had a pleased look plastered on his face. It made him look uncannily like James Potter after a particularly nasty ambush and attack.
Snape scowled silently and looked away. Whatever went on in the brat's head, it did not bode well. He had to find out what he was up to.
Margaret Kentworthy was puzzled. After she had so thoughtlessly sent out all the letters from former students in her possession, she had begun to receive many of them back one after another. It was sad to realise just how many had lost their lives during the past 20 years. She remembered having given this assignment to almost all years; even first years. They must have been so young.
She had addressed many that she had got back to the closest family members.
Yet there was one that she was sure she should have received and had not. It would never have occurred to her, she would hardly even have remembered, had it not been for the presence of those ghastly Dementors everywhere, reminding people of who exactly was on the loose. She remembered Sirius Black in her class. He was an insufferable, rude and spoilt brat who delighted in testing her patience. She knew he was out there somewhere, and had probably received his letter, if he had written one. He was never one to do what he was told.
But mention of Sirius Black brought to mind the memory of another brave young man, one who tried to stand up to him and avenge his betrayed friends, and lost his life for it.
She wondered why his letter had not come back yet.
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