roll leg downstairs。 Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left。 Snape？ Or perhaps Mundungus； who had pilfered plenty from this house both before and after Sirius died？ Harry's gaze wandered to the portrait that sometimes contained Phineas Nigellus Black； Sirius's great…great grandfather； but it was empty； showing nothing but a stretch of muddy backdrop。 Phineas Nigellus was evidently spending the night in the headmaster's study at Hogwarts。
Harry continued up the stairs until he reached the topmost landing where there were only two doors。 The one facing him bore a nameplate reading Sirius。 Harry had never entered his godfather's bedroom before。 He pushed open the door； holding his wand high to cast light as widely as possible。 The room was spacious and must once have been handsome。 There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard； a tall window obscured by long velvet curtains and a chandelier thickly coated in dust with candle scrubs still resting in its sockets； solid wax banging in frostlike drips。 A fine film of dust covered the pictures on the walls and the bed's headboard； a spiders web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the large wooden wardrobe； and as Harry moved deeper into the room； he head a scurrying of disturbed mice。
The teenage Sirius had plastered the walls with so many posters and pictures that little of the wall's silvery…gray silk was visible。 Harry could only assume that Sirius's parents had been unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm that kept them on the wall because he was sure they would not have appreciated their eldest son's taste in decoration。 Sirius seemed to have long gone out of his way to annoy his parents。 There were several large Gryffindor banners； faded scarlet and gold just to underline his difference from all the rest of the Slytherin family。 There were many pictures of Muggle motorcycles； and also （Harry had to admire Sirius's nerve） several posters of bikini…clad Muggle girls。 Harry could tell that they were Muggles because they remained quite stationary within their pictures； faded smiles and glazed eyes frozen on the paper。 This was in contrast the only Wizarding photograph on the walls which was a picture of four Hogwarts students standing arm in arm； laughing at the camera。
With a leap of pleasure； Harry recognized his father； his untidy black hair stuck up at the back like Harry's； and he too wore glasses。 Beside him was Sirius； carelessly handsome； his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Harry had ever seen it alive。 To Sirius's right stood Pettigrew； more than a head shorter； plump and watery…eyed； flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs； with the much…admired rebels that James and Sirius had been。 On James's left was Lupin； even then a little shabby…looking； but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included or was it simply because Harry knew how it had been； that he saw these things in the picture？ He tried to take it from the wall； it was his now； after all； Sirius had left him everything； but it would not budge。 Sirius had taken no chances in preventing his parents from redecorating his room。
Harry looked around at the floor。 The sky outside was growing brightest。 A shaft of light revealed bits of paper； books； and small objects scattered over the carpet。 Evidently Sirius's bedroom had been reached too； although its contents seemed to have been judged mostly； if not entirely； worthless。 A few of the books had been shaken roughly enough to part pany with the covers and sundry pages littered the floor。
Harry bent down； picked up a few of the pieces of paper； and examined them。 He recognized one as a part of an old edition of iA History of Magici； by Bathilda Bagshot； and another as belonging to a motorcycle maintenance manual。 The third was handwritten and crumpled。 He smoothed it out。
iDear Padfoot；
Thank you； thank you； for Harry's birthday present！ It was his favorite by far。 One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick； he looked so pleased with himself。 I'm enclosing a picture so you can see。 You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas （no plaints there）。 Of course James thought it was so funny； says he's going to be a great Quidditch player but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going。
We had a very quiet birthday tea； just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Garry。 We were so sorry you couldn't e； but the Order's got to e first； and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway！ James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here； he tries not to show it but I can tell … also Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak； so no chance of little excursions。 If you could visit； it would cheer him up so much。 Wormy was here last weekend。 I thought he seemed down； but that was probably the next about the McKinnons； I cried all evening when I heard。
Bathilda drops in most days； she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore。 I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew！ I don't know how much to believe； actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledorei
Harry's extremities seemed to have gone numb。 He stood quite still； holding the miraculous paper in his nerveless fingers while inside him a kind of quiet eruptions sent joy and grief thundering its equal measure through his veins。 Lurching to the bed； he sat down。
He read the letter again； but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time； and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself。 She had made her 〃g〃s the same way he did。 He searched through the letter for every one of them； and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil。 The letter was an incredible treasure； proof that Lily Potter had lived； really lived； that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment； tracing ink into these letters； these words； words about him； Harry； her son。
Impatiently brushing away the wetness in his eyes； he reread the letter； this time concentrating on the meaning。 It was like listening to a half…remembered voice。
They had a cata133 perhaps it had perished； like his parents at Godric's Hollowa133 or else fled when there was nobody left to feed ita133 Sirius had bought him his first broomsticka133 His parents had known Bathilda Bagshot； had Dumbledore introduced them？ iDumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloakia133 there was something funny therea133
Harry paused； pondering his mother's words。 Why had Dumbledore taken James's Invisibility Cloak？ Harry distinctly remembered his headmaster telling him years before； 〃I don't need a cloak to bee invisible〃 Perhaps some less gifted Order
member had needed its assistance； and Dumbledore had acted as a carrier？ Harry passed ona133
iWormy was herea133i Pettigrew； the traitor； had seemed 〃down〃 had he？ Was he aware that he was seeing James and Lily alive for the last time？
And finally Bathilda again； who told incredible stories about Dumbledore。 iIt seems in