Yay! I finished the first chapter of my fic!
A piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.
What’s this? thought Harry. He looked up at the ceiling above his four poster bed. And where the heck did it come from? He pushed back the sheets and picked up the parchment off the floor. He couldn’t sleep so he thought he might as well get up now. He turned it over and he saw his name on it. And the writing looked so familiar. He sat up on the bed and unfolded the note and was immediately reminded of whose handwriting it was.
“Sirius,” he whispered under his breath, “but how?” He read the letter slowly. It had been an entire summer and first two months at Hogwarts since, well, for him to mope about the Dursley’s. Harry had heard nothing from him, so this not must mean something good.
Harry,
Please do not try anything rash. Do not try to figure out the veil in the Chamber of Death. I am not dead, but I don’t think I’m alive either. I have tried many times and many ways to destroy the veil or to open it but I fear that if the veil is destroyed, I will be destroyed along with it. If this letter reaches you, tell Remus or Dumbledore, but tell someone who can help. DO NOT TRY TO DO ANYTHING BY YOURSELF! I have figured out, by means of painstaking stretches of time that could either be days or months, that if objects pass to the side of the veil that I am on, they will never be able pass through it again. It was so hard to write a legible letter using spells through a curtain. The people in the Department of Mysteries are probably wondering where all the parchment and quills have gone, but they’re probably used to stuff like that. Unfortunately, no one has been in the Chamber of Death to find the mess I’ve left of pleas for help outside the curtain. I spent what seemed like two months creating spell that would enchant this paper to go to you. It would be so great if I could hear from you. It’s so lonely here.
Sirius
Harry glanced at his watch sitting on the bed table next to him. 4:30? He thought for a moment. Nah, Ron doesn’t need three more hours of sleep. Not for this. And with that he hopped of his bed and pulled on his sweater from Mrs. Weasly last Christmas and marched over to Ron’s bed.
“Not the snorkel!” shouted Ron as Harry rocked him back ad forth to wake him up. Ron blinked and asked Harry what time it was while he reached for his sweater.
“4:30, but I’ve,” Harry almost got in Sirius’s letter but Ron yelled a bit too loudly for the small room and the time Harry had just said.
“Well it’s probably later now since you sleep like a rock and are hard to wake up besides.” Harry stated plainly as he reached for the letter that had fallen to the ground in the scuffle.
“Hey,” said Ron defensively.
“Yeah, but that’s not important, I’ve just got something to show you. Follow me.” Harry started towards the common room before Ron could pull on his sweater. Ron was just about to yell at Harry about it being 4:30 and can’t this wait when he tripped over Trevor. Why doesn’t he just sell this thing? Half the time it’s lost and the other half it’s in the way. Never the less, he pushed to the side gently with his toe and followed Harry down the stairs.
“So what’s so impor-hey, why do you have a letter? You didn’t get mail yesterday and there’s no post today. Have you discovered a new form of mail?” Ron pushed over a chair near to where Harry was sitting at one of the round tables.
“No,” Harry said, “but I think Sirius has.”
“What?” Ron shouted, not thinking at all about everyone else who was sleep in the dormitories, “but how?”
“He charmed the paper,” Harry started before Ron interrupted him again.
“How? I thought he was dead. Plus does he have his wand? Was it with him when he, um, fell through?” Ron sat down next to Harry and yanked on his sweater which was now at least two inches too short everywhere. Ginny must have put a shrinking charm on it, he thought.
“He said he spent forever summoning a parchment,” Harry continued to talk through until Ron suddenly stopped.
“What?” He asked.
“Do you think he would mind us marketing it? His idea? It’s genius.” stated Ron.
“Ron! This is not about money! It’s about Sirius! I can talk to him! If he can write to me, I must be able to write to him. Here, read it yourself.” Harry shoved the letter into Ron’s hand and sat down with his paper and parchment to write the letter he had been trying to write for months.
Dear Sirius, he thought, No, Sirius, how are you? His thought were broken again by Ron’s loud voice.
“Harry, you’re overlooking a few things here, one, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP? And two, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO ENCHANT THE PARCHMENT? I don’t mean to crush you or anything, but what are you trying at here?”
“What am I trying at?” Yelled Harry angrily, “I am trying to write a letter to my god-father! That’s what. How do you expect me to write a bloody letter with you breathing down my back the whole time! Huh?” Harry barely managed to contain himself from throwing his quill at Ron’s face.
“Go ahead!” retorted Ron, “just don’t come to me when you can’t enchant the letter to get to him!” Ron slammed Sirius’s letter on the table stormed back to bed.
“Fine,” said Harry to himself, “I will.” Harry bent over the parchment and was still writing when Ron came down again on his way to breakfast.
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