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The Hidden Painting	By : VampireJesse Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1188 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Thddendden Painting
- 2-In the Shadows
- 1
- 2
A/N: Spoiler�s OoP OoP. This crossed my mind after
I read my messages from the HP for adults Mailing list. This is my answer to
one of the questions, my POV.

Reviews would be appreciated. So are flames if
constructive.

Rated R for later chapters�

&nb>

The Hidden Painting

A few more steps and they stood right in
front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. They didn�t ring the doorbell. Remus just
took a key out of his pocket and opened the door, stepping aside to let Harry
pass.

An icy shiver ran down Harry�s spine when the
deadly silence welcomed him home.

Home. That�st het he�d liked to call this house
if he had ever been able to move in with his Godfather. Now it was just an
empty house, which gave him memories he wished he could forget.

Remus left him alone with his thoughts. He
stood at his side and waited patiently for him to go on. Harry did not know if
he had the strength for it, though.

With a small sigh he walked further into the
house, his feet leading the way into the kitchen without him realising it. He
sat down at the table, finding himself staring at the now dark fireplace.

Sirius would never disturb the painting of his
mother again, giving her a reason to scream. Harry wasn�t even sure if the
picture was still at the wall. He vaguely remembered Remus telling him about
finding a way to reverse the permanent sticking charm.

Harry wandered along the dark hallway when he
reached an even darker stair, leading up what must be the way to the attic. The
black hole in the wall with its steep steps seemed to call him and carefully,
he took each step up into nowhere. His outstretched hands knocked hard against
a wooden door, forcing him finally to take out his wand.

�Lumos!�

The head of a House-elf sat instead of a normal
doorknob and stared at Harry with hollow eyes. He turned the head and the door
opened without the expected squeak.

The air smelled dusty and spider-webs covered
the ceiling and were spread all over the windows. A rocking horse with a broken
nose stood beside a worn leather armchair, too dirty to even be touched. Old
tattered Robes hung from the ceiling like forgotten signs of another time.

Small footprints were all over the dirty floor
and Harry suspected them to be Kreacher�s. Sirius had told him that he came up
here from time to time to look for more treasures of his beloved Mistress.

An old cupboard stood nearby, its doors wide
open and Harry looked inside. Nothing.

The same with an enormous trunk, wearing the
emblem of the Black family. A few more or less small boxes bore some broken
cups and plates. One fil filled with pictures of the noble Black family that
had been thrown away by Sirius, Harry remembered. Kreacher had probably taken
them out of the bin, hiding them up here.

Harry looked around. There was nothilse lse up
here and he was almost ready to leave when his eyes fell on something in the
darkest corner, reflecting dimly the light coming from his wand. He moved
closer, his heart beatiapidapidly. It was a mirror, covered completely by dust
and spider-webs.

�The mirror of Erised� Harry thought for a
short moment. His hand shot forward and wiped the dirt of the blinded glass,
sending waves of dust into the air. He coughed hard before he had a look into
the mirror.

Hope left as fast as it had come. His face was
the only staring back at him, looking disappointed and at the verge of tears.

Harry kicked out for the useless piece of
furniture, his view clouded with now freely streaming tears brought up by his
anger. How stupid he was to hope and find a sign of Sirius.

Breathing harshly and almost choking on the
water running from his eyes, he watched the mi fal fall to the side, loosing
its balance and hitting the floor hard before the glass shattered into a
thousand pieces, sending up more clouds of dust.

Harry cried for some long minutes, his eyes
never leaving the slightly shining remains of the broken mirror. Still upset,
he wiped his eyes with anger shaken hands, clearing the blur away caused from
all of his tears.

A silent �Oh� escaped his mouth when he saw
something leaning against the wall, hidden before by the large mirror. It had
almost the same height as Harry; square in shape and very thin. It looked like
a large picture orme tme to Harry. Rough blankets were tied with ropes around
it, hiding its heart from curious views.

He opened the knots with a lot of difficulties
but finally they fell. His fingers hurt from the effort but he didn�t care.
Pushing the blankets aside, he revealed a slightly faded painting as he could
see by the colour of it.

First, he saw only a pair of long legs in
tight, black trousers. A hand was pushed at his side, fingers hooked in the
once shiny leather belt. The other arm was lifted and the y man man leaned with
his hand against the wall of a room, lit up by some torches besides his head.
His hair fell in large black, waves down his shoulders. The almost black eyes
looked straight ahead, gleaming with a fire of its own. A mocking smile was
spread over his handsome face, showing a lot of confidence.

Harry saw the young man and shadows caused by
even more tears clouded his view. He couldn�t stop the sobs escaping his chest
when he recognised him for who he was.

He thought his eyes had played him a trick when
the man�s eyes moved and grew large, wiping with it the mockery out of his
smile. Now, he looked sad and Harry ought to see a single tear dwelling in the
man�s right eye.

Blinded by the silvery drops pouring from his
own eyes, he reached out with one hand coming slowly closer to the parchment.
The hand hooked inside the belt moved and when Harry put his shaking hand flat
against the painting, the young man had done the same from inside of it, their
palms meeting at the same place.

A tickling ran across Harry�s hand and his skin
felt pleasantly warm.

�Hello Harry!�

His sobbing increased and he couldn�t stop his
tears from falling even harder.

y'>�Si�Sirius?�

He knew that it was Padfoot. He looked exactly
the same he had in Snape�s memories but he simply couldn�t believe his eyes.

�Yes.�

The smile looked very sad now and the tear
rolled slowly down his cheek, leaving a silvery path on his skin.

�Don�t cry. There�s no need for it.�

An angry laughter escaped Harry, so filled with
pain it made Sirius� skin crawl by the sound.
Sirius let out a small sigh.

�James would have done something reckless like
always.�

Harry looked at him with a startled look on his
red face.

�Oh, I don�t believe he�d put us in danger on
purpose. But sometimes he tended to act first and think afterwards. That�s
another gift of you Mum, given to you.

You were clever enough to find a way all by
yourself to London. You had the guts to face Voldemort and his Death-Ea
al
always carfor for your friends when you were in danger, not loosing your head.
That is very brave! And clever.�

Sirius put his hand flat against the inside of
the painting again, smiling at him full of love.

�You know, what you are, Harry? You are your
Mum and Dad�s heart. The better of them both. They would be really proud of
you, Harry. Like I am proud of you.�

Harry sobbed even harder. All the pain he had
kept inside since the day Sirius went through the veil seemed to fall off of
him. All the tears he couldn�t cry before flowed freely now.

�I love you. I couldn�t love you more if
you were my own son, Harry. Always.
Remember that.�

A smile found its way through Harry�s tears and
when he looked at Sirius face in the painting, he found it returned.

They sat the same way when Remus came into the
attic, looking for Harry.
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The Hidden Painting

The Hidden Painting