Jily one shots

special sound spheres

disclaimer: written by gpoy

a/n: follow my tiktok if you want b @hollychimenti

There was dust absolutely everywhere. Harry Potter coughed and took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt.

"How long is it since you've been up here?" he asked Remus, who was just climbing the stairs to the attic.

"Oh, years," Remus answered, "If I remember correctly, not since . . . before you were born. So, effectively, yes, seventeen years."

"It shows," grinned Harry and his new guardian chuckled.

"Well, it's my parents ' house; they should have cleared the place out. You don't have to help, you know. I know kids these days have other things to do."

"Well, I don't," shrugged Harry. And it was true, Ron was on holiday in Greece, Hermione was working as a receptionist in her dad's practice and Ginny was . . . still with Dean! he reminded himself sullenly.

"So you've come to help an old man throw out his memories, very admirable," smiled Remus, rolling up his sleeves, "Right then, let's get cracking."

They'd set up a clever magical system, whereby anything they threw down the trapdoor of the attic automatically ended up in the skip sitting in the back garden.

"Lamp?" asked Harry, holding up a rather ugly beside lamb with a torn shade.

"Throw it," answered Remus, and Harry aimed for the square hole in the floor.

They worked for most of the morning, opening boxes and discovering only useless documents and forgotten furniture, until Harry was starting to wonder what he'd like to cook for lunch.

That was when he found it, a small wooden box intricately carved with a stag's head and a flowering lily. This seemed more valuable than the rest of the other stuff, maybe he should ask Remus before he went prying into it.

"What's this?" he asked curiously, holding out the box. Remus dusted off his hands on his trousers and stumbled over to where Harry was standing. As he got closer to the boy, and the thing in his hands, a frown grew on his face, as if he were trying to remember something. Then the frown vanished and was replaced with a bittersweet smile.

"I'd forgotten," he murmured.

"What is it?" asked Harry, intrigued, sensing he was in for a good story. Remus looked him in the eye and smiled wider.

"It's yours," he told Harry, "Open it."

Not waiting for any more of an excuse, Harry levered open the lid of the box and found a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with old, yellowing string. How odd, he thought, it was addressed, (Auditions, The Producer, Wizards' Wireless Network, London), but it looked as thought it had never been sent. His eyes flicked to Remus, who had sat down on one of the boxes. The old man nodded.

Harry sat down opposite Remus and set the empty box down beside him, then he pulled the old string carefully and dismantled the packaging to find . . . another box, a spherical, glass one this time, much smaller, about the size of a cricket ball, with a yellowed label that titled it, 'A Very Special Sunday'. Inside was a golden ball, with a perfectly straight hairline crack down the middle.

Harry took it out of the glass container and glanced at Remus again.

"Shall I show you how to work it?" he asked, and Harry nodded, feeling a tad stupid.

Remus took the ball from him and split it into two halves, Harry saw the inside had a covering of golden wiring, like a speaker. The hemispheres didn't break away from each other completely, but when they were pulled apart, they continued to be connected by a golden strip of metal that arced out in a curve.