Harry's Ghost

Death Day

Harry sat at the kitchen table, flipping subconsciously through the Daily Prophet (wizarding newspaper).
He sighed deeply before taking a drink from his mug which flashed the letters, "P O T T E R".
Ginny seemed to have noticed something was up, as she sat beside him and watched Harry. His eyes flicked to her, before going back to the paper.
"Something wrong?" She asked, rather quietly.
Harry took a moment to answer, he leant forward frowning as he watched his wife.
"...not really."
"Harry."
"Yes?"
"Harry." Ginny repeated giving him a serious look, raising her left eyebrow. Of course, this was enough to get him to talk.
"Fine, no." Harry mumbled vaguely, rubbing the back of his head.
"Why's that?" She asked, entwining her fingers in his under the table.
"Sirius..." Harry breathed, feeling his eyes burn once more.
"What about him?" Ginny had suddenly become more concerned, she looked like her mother, Molly, as she gave him that look.
"5 years...and I still wish he was here."
Harry leant back in his seat, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling, naturally Ginny was reminded of Dumbledore from this action. He always seemed to be off with the fairies.
"Dear...you've lost so many people, that's normal. You've got nearly no one left." Ginny seemed at bit choked up at these words, she sniffed. It hurt her to imagine how Harry felt, she hadn't lost many and was very fortunate for it.

"I know...but something feels wrong..." Harry shook his head to clear it, he was probably being silly.
Ginny was quick to comment, "you're just used to adventure, life is pretty dull at the moment. You're reading too much into it." She assured him.
Harry, however, was not convinced.
He nodded to her, agreeing halfheartedly.
Harry locked himself in the bathroom, splashing his face to mingle with the few tears that rolled down his cheeks. If only Sirius was still here, he could tell him it was really just all in his head.
Harry straightened up, blinking into the mirror. For a moment, his reflection stared back.
Then...
Harry gasped quietly, finding his hands shaking as they rested on the mirror. "Sirius..." he breathed.
For in the mirror, stood his godfather. Instead of his own reflection, there he was miling back, happy and well.
Harry wasn't sure what to feel, he turned around to check Sirius was not with him. He began to believe it was something like the mirror of Erised.
"Harry..." Sirius called back, his voice echoed as if through the veil at the Department Of Mysteries to where he had disappeared through.
Harry blinked again.
He was gone.