The One That Lied {Book Two in The One Series}

Chapter Two ~ Back Again

Chapter Two

Back Again

            Harry Potter couldn’t sleep.

Night had fallen slowly, and by nine o’clock Ginny had crashed. She had practises practically every day, for six hours at least, and she barely had time to have dinner with Harry before crashing. Harry had followed her to bed, hoping for some ‘quality time’ before bed, but she was already snoring away.

Sighing, Harry tried desperately to close his eyes, but he knew if he did, he would once again be faced with the faces of his dead loved ones. It had been three years, but every night he relived the gruesome event that had changed the world: he had saved it. But saving the world hadn’t stopped the nightmares.

Deciding some tea might finally send him to dream land; Harry crept silently out of his bedroom, glancing quickly at Ginny’s peaceful face before walking down the creaky steps (Ginny had been bugging him about it for nearly two years) and into the kitchen. The house was old with arched doorways, wooden beams and low-ish ceilings. If one was very tall, their head might brush the ceiling. The house had been in the Potter family for generations; it was were James Potter had grown up, and when the war had ended Harry had moved in. Ginny had moved in as soon as she graduated.

Ten minutes later, Harry was sitting in his study, a cup of tea beside him and a book in his hand. He often spent nights there when he couldn’t sleep, in the arm chair in front of the fire or on the love seat-the whole house was furnished with the furniture his Grandparents had left behind, and the office had still housed hundreds of books and papers that had belonged to his Grandfather Potter. He put his book down and tried to picture the grandfather he’d never known: there was a picture on the mantle of his father and his parents, and it seemed James had inherited his laughing hazel eyes and jet black hair from Mrs. Potter. Harry had only learned their names when he had moved in: Katherine and Patrick Potter.

Picking his book back up again, Harry was already nodding off in a matter of minuets. The fire was crackling, his tea was warm and his mind was sleepy: warm spring air blew gently through the curtains, and Harry slowly drifted off to sleep…

In what could have been minuets or hours later, Harry was wrenched out of the best sleep he’d had in weeks by a firm knock. Sitting up in his chair, Harry sighed heavily before stumbling out of his study and down the hall towards the front door. Pulling it open, he almost lost his breathe, even after three years.

“Hello Harry,” she whispered.

“Adalyn?” Harry choked on her name, eyes devouring her face “What are you doing here?” his eyes fell upon the little black haired girl whose face was buried in Adalyn’s shoulder with curiosity “Who’s that?”

“This Harry,” said Adalyn as the little girl peeked at him with her bright green eyes identical to his own “Is Syrie. Your daughter.”

            The world stopped. Harry stared at the green eyed child as she sucked her thumb, gazing intently at him. She looked a lot like Adalyn – a lot like Sirius- but her eyes…her eyes were just like Harry’s, like his mother’s. Now knowing what to say, he stepped out into the garden and shut the door, silent as the breeze that wove around them, blowing the toddlers black hair into her eyes. “She-she’s beautiful.”