The fall seemed to take an age, a century. He felt his back arching as the spell hit him and his body falling, unable to do anything about it. Eyes widened in terror as he heard rather than felt the flapping of the veil around his ears. He tried to move, tried to step away from it, to get up again and laugh. He had to stay for Remus, for the Order… for Harry. But it was too late. Even though timed had slowed so it was just before a halt everything seemed to go too quickly.
The veil was swallowing him up now, gripping at his head and shoulders with a million tiny hands, pulling him back. Some part of him wanted to go towards the darkness, venture in, and see what was there. Some part of him was struggling, trying to rip back, tear back through the veil and tell Harry nothing had happened. Logic didn't seem to apply anymore, though. Logic didn't tell him that he should have just fallen onto the other side of the archway. This all seemed perfectly natural. Memories were flying back to him, clouding his mind.
James was there and so was he and they were grinning like maniacs, squatting down in a small space. Why were they there in such a small area? What was so funny? Then their laughs became stifled and fists were shoved into mouths as a shout echoed around the corner, shouting that they would get a hundred thousand detentions. Their first prank.
The hands tugged harder at him, whispering words of comfort, words in a million different languages that all suddenly made sense. The words told him to follow them and the pressure released from his shoulders. No, he wouldn't follow them. He couldn't. He had to go back to Harry, tell Harry everything was okay. He had to get Bellatrix Lestrange, he had to do a hundred undoable things.
His fur ruffled slightly in the breeze and he turned and grinned, tongue lolling out at the stag behind him. The stag was clumsy on its four legs but everything came natural to him. He was bounding foreword, nudging the stag off the ground, barking. The grass tumbled around them, the sky rolling in darkness. Pinpricks littered its frosty dark blanket but that didn't matter now. What mattered was that they would have fun, they would run. Their first full moon.
He followed the hands against his own will, some part of himself pulling him foreword. Then, with a bang, his torso and legs got through the veil and everything was free, everything was just alright. Nothing bad could happen now. Harry was safe, yes, of course Harry was safe. Harry would understand even though the secrets that nobody knew of weren't with him. He would understand.
Smiles and laughter all around. There's a flash of light and his hand flies so that his arm is around James', champagne spilling slightly. He laughs the bark like a dog and Lily gets into the picture, putting her hand around her new husband's waist. They all laugh and smile and there is another fast. James and Lily's wedding.
It all came now; all came in a fountain of knowledge. It was just his time to go; his time to go and join what had been waiting for him always. It all made so much sense now. It was just his time and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't feel scared now; a sort of calmness had enveloped his mind, a feeling of relaxation spreading through his body.
The memories turned sharper and he remembered running, feet pounding. Disbelief and sureness was laced in his features. Nothing could have stopped him, nothing could have stopped him even though he knew exactly what he was about to see. His first encounter with death.
He knew what would happen now. He didn't know how he did but the knowledge told him so, it whispered in his ear to stay calm. Faces blurred in front of his face… but did he have a face now? He certainly saw faces, but he didn't remember ever having eyes.
There was a pause in the blur of faces and two others swarm in front. A face framed with long, thick red hair and emerald eyes smiles at him and then fades away as he murmurs "Lily" softly through no mouth. Then another face comes up and a hand reaches out, the face with scruffy black hair and hazel eyes smiling kindly. Something passes into his head but he never remembered hearing it.
"Mr Prongs would like to welcome Mr Padfoot home," he says, and there's a rush in which the nothingness pushes him foreword into another world.
A/N I do not believe the amount of angst I write is healthy. X.x