The girl who died Harry Potter's Twin Sister

Chapter 17- OOTP

Harry was the first to wake up in his dormitory the next morning. He laid for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap of his four-poster's hanging and savoured the thought it was Saturday. The first term on of the week seemed to have dragged on forever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson. Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of the beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. He pulled open the curtains around his bed, got up and started to dress. The only sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of his fellow Gryffindors. He opened his schoolbag carefully, pulled out parchment and quill and headed out of the dormitory for the common.

He made his way for his favourite squashy old chair beside the now extinct fire. However, when he got there he was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Elizabeth. He smiled softly and made his way to the sofa where he placed his ink bottle, quill and parchment of the table. He uncorked his ink bottle and dipped his quill into it then held it suspended an inch above the yellow-tinted parchment. He was thinking hard... but after a minute or so he found himself staring into the empty grate at a complete loss for what to say.

He could now appreciate how hard it had been for Ron and Hermione to write him letters over the summer. How was he supposed to tell Sirius everything that had happened over the past week and pose all questions he was burning to ask without giving potential letter-thieves a lot of information he did not want them to have?

He sat quite motionless for a while, gazing into the fireplace then, finally coming to a decision, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely on the parchment.

Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're OK, the first week back here has been terrible, I'm really glad its the weekend.
We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because the thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing detention with Umbridge.
Also, I'm really worried about Elizabeth. Her powers are getting stronger and it's draining her. We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
Please write back quickly.
Best,
Harry.

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

"I would not go that way if I was you," said Nearly Headless Nick, drifting disconcertingly through a wall just ahead of Harry as he walked down the passage. 'Peeves is planning an amusing joke on the next person to pass the bust of Paracelsus halfway down the corridor."

"Does it involve Paracelsus falling on top of the person's head?" Asked Harry.

"Funnily enough it does," said Nick in a bored voice. "Subtlety has never been Peeves' strong point. I'm off to try to find the Bloody Baron... he might be able to put a stop to it... see you, Harry."

"Yeah, bye." Harry took a left instead of a right. He didn't feel like being a victim of Peeves' annoying prank today, so he took the longer but safer route. His spirits rose as he walked past his window after window showing brilliantly blue sky; he had training later, he would be back on the Quidditch pitch at last.

Something brushed his ankles. He looked down and saw the caretaker's skeletal grey cat, Mrs Norris, slinking past him. She turned lamplike yellow eyes on him for a moment before disappearing behind a statue of Wilfred the Wistful.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," Harry called after her. She had the unmistakable air of a cat that was of to report to her boss. Harry couldn't see why he was perfectly entitled to walk up to the Owlery on a Saturday morning.