The Sugar Quill
Author: J62442  Story: Hearing Voices  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

Summary: This is a "missing moment" story that takes place during OotP. When Harry attempts to contact Sirius using the two-way mirror, his efforts are unsuccessful. What if someone actually heard his call?

Rated: G

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing fan fiction. I thought I’d start small and see how it goes. Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think in a review. Criticism can only make me stronger! I want to send a huge thank you to my beta-reader Birgit who, besides being an amazing editor, has encouraged me to continue with my story line!
On with the story! ~J62442


Hearing Voices

“Sirius,” he heard cutting clearly through the still air.

It was evening at number twelve, Grimmauld Place and the voice startled the man out of his quiet reverie. He had come up here to take care of some of Sirius’ things: getting items sorted and packed away. He’d hoped it would bring him some peace of mind and make himself feel useful, but it hadn’t. In fact, it did the complete opposite.

Rather than freeing his thoughts, the task had got them whirling; thoughts of should haves and could haves all ending in feelings of guilt and remorse. Finally, his mind completely exhausted, he put his head in his hands and slumped to the bed. And there he sat in deafening silence for an immeasurable amount of time.

He merely existed in the stale room, as he inhaled and exhaled, but he certainly wasn’t living. With the zealous of life spilled from his body there seemed no end to the hopelessness he felt. Sirius was gone and with him the last remaining connection to something that resembled family. But what really added to the pain was the sense of waste he felt. So much time that could have been spent in the comfort of friendship - no, brotherhood - was lost in his own blindness. He had doubted Sirius when his friend had needed him the most.

His head jerked up from his hands when he heard Sirius’ name called, startling his senses awake. Suddenly, the room came back to life. The sound of the clock ticking in the corner and the tap dripping in the next room seemed overwhelming to his ears.

The voice was unmistakeable. Yet, it was impossible for the owner of it to be here. It was the last night of school term at Hogwarts and he wouldn’t see him until the next day. But his face scrunched in concern as he heard Harry speak again.

“Sirius Black,” came Harry’s voice just as clearly as it had the first time. However, this time the notes of anger and frustration that were attached could not be missed.

His eyes moved to where Harry’s voice was coming from. He stood up and walked over to a chest of drawers and sitting on top was one of Sirius’ two-way mirrors. He looked at the mirror with confusion until the realization of what Harry was attempting to do dawned on him. He had the overwhelming sensation of a rock slowly sinking to the pit of his stomach.

Harry was trying to contact Sirius from the beyond.

In a split second a most troubling dilemma played through the man’s mind. Do I pick up the mirror and respond or not? If I pick the mirror and respond, will I be interfering or be of any comfort to this obviously grieving young man? Will he want to talk to me? Will I even know what to say?

However, the decision was abruptly made for him as the sound of shattering glass filled the air.

In an instance, he picked up the mirror off the dresser.

“Harry”, he called into the mirror. But the only response he received was a mist of fog created by his own breath as it hit the glass. The fog slowly dissolved to reveal the reflection of a tired wizard who looked far too old for his age.

As he studied his tattered and ragged appearance, several emotions welled inside him, but guilt rose above all. This was the guilt that came with the understanding that he did not have a bond with Harry.

It had been his choice to stay away from the boy while he lived with his Aunt and Uncle. It was his choice to not connect with him when he returned to the wizarding world to attend Hogwarts. It was his choice to watch from the sidelines during his third year as he played the distance professor. Then, he’d felt too distant to from any kind of bond. Harry, he soon discovered, had a life of his own. He had found family in his friends and the Weasleys. And he was happy that Harry was loved and safe, but he sadly saw no place for a man of his condition to interfere. But then Sirius had returned and he had assumed that he would get to know Harry through his Godfather….

And now he was here. A place that left him in the position to become a parental figure to a boy he barely knew, but should know inside-out. He owed that to his family. He owed it to James, Lily and Sirius to make sure their son made it through this. He was, now, the only link to Harry’s past. But where to begin - how to begin? As a man fraught with a condition that caused many problems, how, in Merlin’s name, was he going to do this?

He looked into the mirror again, as if hoping it would have the answers. Perhaps a small guide book: “How to Help a Hormonal Teenage Boy Develop Coping Strategies that Will Aid Him in Moving on from Grief so He can Save the World as You Yourself Deal with the Emotional Impact that Fourteen or so Years of Isolation Will Do to a Person”. However, all that greeted him was the scarred face of a greying man.

But as he thought of that miraculous, non-existent book, he realized that Harry and himself were connected on some levels. Both understood the anger and frustration that came with forced isolation and the hopelessness that followed. And now, as he grieved for his fallen brother figure, Harry grieved for his fallen father figure. Sirius was his and Harry’s only family, and in essence, that made them family to each other.

With a heavy sigh, he continued to look into the mirror.

“Harry needs me”, he said quietly to his own reflection. “But after so many losses and disappointments in his past, will he ever let anyone be a part of his life again?”

And with that final thought, Remus Lupin put the mirror back down on the dresser and decided to call it a night.


Another Author’s Note: I’ve been thinking of using this as a prologue to a “summer after fifth year” fic. What do you think?

Thanks for reading!
~J62442

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