Supported & Torn (HP) {Book 3 of the Wild & Free Series}

10. Sirius in the Fire

I was the first to awake in my dormitory next morning. I lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the chink of sunlight falling through the gap in my four-poster's hangings and savoured the thought that it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on forever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson.

Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. I pulled open the curtains around my bed, got up, and started to dress.

The only sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of my fellow Gryffindors. Since I didn't know what to do, I headed out of the dormitory for the common room.

To my surprise, I saw Harry already sitting in the armchair near the fire. He was writing something on a piece of parchment.

"What are you doing?" I asked sleepily. Harry quickly looked up.

"I'm writing a letter to Sirius about our scars," he told me. "You want to help?"

I nodded and went to sit next to him, helping him finish the letter.

Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible, we're really glad it's the weekend.
We've got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. We're writing because that thing we wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when we were doing a detention with Umbridge.
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon. Please write back quickly.
Best,

Harry and Liana

Harry and I reread the letter several times, trying to see it from the point of view of an outsider. We could not see how they would know what we were talking about — or who we were talking to — just from reading this letter. We did hope Sirius would pick up the hint about Hagrid and tell us when he might be back: Harry and I did not want to ask directly in case it drew too much attention to what Hagrid might be up to while he was not at Hogwarts.

Considering it was a very short letter it had taken a long time to write; sunlight had crept halfway across the room while we had been working on it, and we could now hear distant sounds of movement from the dormitories above. Sealing the parchment carefully we climbed through the portrait hole and headed off for the Owlery.

My spirits rose as we walked past window after window showing brilliantly blue sky; we had training later, we would be back on the Quidditch pitch at last.

We entered the owlery and Harry gave the letter to Hedwig, who immediately flew off to deliver it.

"Morning," Harry said brightly to Ron, Rowan and Hermione, as we joined them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" said Rowan, eyeing Harry in surprise.

"Quidditch later," said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs toward him.

"Oh... yeah..." said Ron. He put down the bit of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, "Listen... you don't fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to — er — give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit..."

"Yeah, okay," I said.

"Look, I don't think you should," said Hermione seriously, "you're both really behind on homework as it —"

But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring toward her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg; Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off again.