This is another weird one.

It's kind of an answer to those "oh, Sirius comes back to life and everything's wonderful now!" storylines (not that I don't enjoy those from time to time.) But, I feel like things like that don't work at all, because one of the main messages of the books is that death is a natural thing, and that one shouldn't be afraid of it and try to fight it.

Harry learned that in canon, but in this story he hasn't yet gotten that message. So, it is a little sad, but I think more bittersweet. And I'm immensely proud of it, too.

That said, I really hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry, Sirius, Remus, or any of the other characters form JKR's wonderful HP universe. I don't get any money from writing this, either, only enjoyment.

-AmayaSora

Calling Him Home

Being an Auror had its perks. People tended to tell you things, and Harry absolutely hated being left in the dark. And you could go anywhere and see anything if you wore that ornate A on your robes. Although in Harry's case, some of that probably stemmed from the defeating Voldemort/undying gratitude thing.

For the past several weeks, Harry had been milking his Auror status for all it was worth, using it to gain access to even the most mysterious rooms in the Department of Mysteries. An admittedly insane idea had formed inside his head, and like most ridiculous ideas, latched down and grew to epic proportions, filling Harry's every waking thought, and some of his dreams.

The train of thought leading to this idea went something like this: Dumbledore had said that no spell could return the dead, yet there existed the Resurrection Stone that did something very similar. There was always a loophole with magic, and Harry was sure he could find one here; there had to be a way to bring Sirius back.

After exhaustive research, Harry had discovered the spell used by Bellatrix Lestrange on that fateful night, and in and of itself it shouldn't have been fatal. The recovery would've been rough, but it would have happened. The only reason Sirius was gone was because he fell through that damned Veil, and, logically, there'd be a way to fall through the other way, back to this side.

Hermione, of course, disagreed with this logic. Ron did, too, which surprised the heck out of Harry; he thought that Ron would be all for this investigation, having recently lost Fred. But Harry, stubborn as always, had persisted without them, and the obsession began, and with it the countless days in the Department of Mysteries.

Tonight, though, finally, he had done it. He had found an ancient text, cover so faded the title wasn't visible, and pages so fragile that every touch threatened to disintegrate them. He read slowly, carefully, making sure he understood every word.

Triumph flared inside his chest. This was it, this was his answer. "YES!" he cried, and frantically began scribbling the relevant quotes.

The very next morning, Harry stood impatiently in front of the Veil, which was still whispering to him. But these whispers were more forbidding, as if the voices sensed his intent and were trying to warn him off. No, that was silly, Harry assured himself, and refocused his attention to the man in front of him.

Remus Lupin stood in the shabbiest robes he'd yet worn, grey and ripped at all the edges. His hair was properly salt-and-pepper now, and the lines on his face had deepened until he resembled a man twice his age. But the worst part was his voice, which was hollow and dry, holding none of that former warmth. (Harry suspected the actual worst feature of post-Sirius Lupin would be his eyes, but he never dared to look at them, for fear of what he'd see.)

Lupin's posture sagged more and more with each word he read, until the already-stooped shoulders could drop no lower. The man let out a tremendous sigh and wrinkled the parchment in his hands. "Well?"

"Well, it's perfect, isn't it? I mean, assuming that one point is true, and that you really are his-"

"It's true," croaked Lupin. "It's always been true."

"Brilliant! So, there's no reason not to just get on with it then! That spell is foolproof; no unforeseen consequences. Thaddeus Jumingler used it, that's how he knew it works! The properties of the Veil are exactly the same as Jumingler's portal; I've checked and re-checked that."

Lupin said nothing, staring straight ahead. Harry, disconcerted now, continued nevertheless. "Yeah, so, this is it! This is our solution. We can have Sirius back, good as new! Who would've thought it'd be so easy. If I'd known that-"

"Easy? Who said this was easy," said Lupin sharply. It was the first time he'd used that tone since Sirius' de- since he'd fallen.

"Well, the book does. I mean, the spell isn't complicated in the slightest, and the thing that matters the most is the person that actually calls him, and you're the person for that."

Lupin clenched his fists and turned away, from both Harry and the Veil. This made Harry angry; all his work, all that effort, and the result was so easily attainable. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Harry, do you really think Dumbledore didn't know about this spell?" Lupin asked quietly, voice dead again.

"Well, I mean, of course he didn't. Why would he have told me that no spell could bring back the dead if he did?" Harry knew that was a flimsy argument, as Dumbledore had lied many times before, but he just needed Lupin to say seven little words: I love you, come home to me.

"Do you know why this spell won't work, Harry? Those three words there negate the whole thing."

Harry took the parchment from Lupin's outstretched hand and saw the words the professor had indicated. "'One true love?' Aren't they the words that tell you the only way it can work?"

Lupin sighed. "Trust me, those words guarantee no one will ever be able to perform the spell."

"But, I don't-"

"Exactly, Harry! You don't understand! You've never loved that deeply; there's no way you could understand. Because love that deep means you put the other person before yourself, his happiness ahead of yours! If a person really was your one true love, you could never force them back to you like that, rip them away from happiness. Anyone willing to try couldn't possibly be that one true love." Lupin's speech was impassioned, angry and hurt. Harry was shocked at how quickly the emotions came back after being absent from Lupin's entire demeanor for three long years.

Somehow, Harry found the courage to look this man, this person who had suffered as much as he himself had, in the eyes, and saw blazing in them a light of determination and devotion behind the tears. It stunned Harry to silence as Lupin turned and walked away, footsteps echoing around the room.

After a while, Harry came out of his daze. He remembered another room in this place, one he'd never really given much thought to. But today, he went and simply sat in front of this eternally-locked door. Trembling, he touched his fingers to the wood, and suddenly, he understood.

(At the risk of being redundant [and I apologize to those of you who figured that out from the text, which I'm hoping is a majority], the final door at the end is the one that contains Love.)