It had been a long wait for Sirius Black.

Time had no measurable unit, no meaning beyond the veil, but he knew it to be many years since he had fallen through.

But the wait did not matter anymore. Because he had a way out.

As Sirius fell, he noticed many things that he would not normally have observed. He felt the air around him swish and buzz, his body cutting heavily through it as he struggled to regain his footing. He noticed how ugly Bellatrix truly was, more so now than ever, her features twisted in a combination of shock and delight as she realised what was happening to him. And perhaps most importantly, he felt intensely, for the first time in their relationship, how much Harry loved him. He noticed the whispering of the Dead, surrounding him, drawing him in, suffocating him. Among the whispers, he thought he heard James and Lily, clamouring to be heard, crying for him. Grief swept over him, and grief was the last emotion Sirius Black properly felt, before he died.

He landed, not with a thud as he expected, but gently, on a cold floor. He immediately leapt to his feet and rushed forwards to step through the archway again; but there was no archway anymore. There was only mist and shadow, all around him, every way he turned.

Sirius felt panic rising in his chest; surely this was not death, surely it couldn't happen, just like that? But even his panic felt muted and remote, as though it belonged to someone else now. He shook his head vigorously to clear it, but to no effect. Holding his hand out in front of him to gauge how thick the mist was, he noticed that his hands had a shimmering, translucent quality. In fact, it was his whole body.

Dead, then.

'Sirius.'

It was not a question or an exclamation, but a flat, disappointed statement. Sirius whirled around, and where moments ago there had only been emptiness, now stood James Potter.

James looked somewhat similar to Sirius, in that he was there, but not quite solid. The expression on his face was one of sadness, although he smiled.

'James', Sirius croaked. 'I can't…I have to be able to….Harry!'

James reached out a hand to Sirius, rested it on his shoulder, although Sirius felt nothing. 'It's over Sirius', James said sadly. 'Dumbledore will take care of him now.'

Sirius sank to his knees, away from James' touch because it frightened him, and unable to stay on his feet for a moment longer. 'No', he whispered, 'it can't end like this. I can't leave him James! He is the one good, useful thing I have done in my life, the one thing I'm proud of! There has to be a way! Bellatrix didn't use the Killing Curse, I must be able to go back through the Veil!'

'There is no way Padfoot', James replied gently, hunkering down next to his long-lost best friend. 'Don't you think we would have done it, if we could?'

The 'we' roused a grain of curiosity in Sirius. 'Where's Lily then?' he asked gruffly, not willing to look James in the eye. He felt that if he did, he was admitting defeat.

'She's near', James sighed, 'I thought it would be better for me to come alone. Look Sirius, we will help you, I swear. Because of how Lily and I died, we have a stronger connection to the world than most of the others here. Because we died protecting Harry, as long as he lives, we have a thread in the door. I suppose you will too. It's a curse, in some ways. Knowing and seeing, and being unable to do anything.'

'I won't leave this spot', Sirius growled, 'I will not move. There's a doorway here, I will find it, and I will get back to Harry. When did you give up trying James?'

'It's not as simple as that Sirius', James explained patiently, 'we died. We really died and then we became part of this…whatever this is. There are much nicer places than here, this is sort of like a waiting area. I only came to bring you back with me. I think it's easier to accept it, when you die first. But when you let go, you will be able to watch what happens to Harry, you will be able to support him with your spirit. He feels it Sirius, I know he does.'

'Please leave me alone', Sirius hissed through gritted teeth, 'you're the ghost of a friend I lost a long time ago, and you are of no help to me now. My place is with the living, not with the dead. Harry doesn't need my spirit, he needs my mind and my presence. He needs a father.'

James withdrew a foot or two sharply, as if he had been burned. There was silence between the two for what felt like an age, but time has no meaning where they were.

'When you change your mind, just say our names', James whispered. 'We'll welcome you with open arms.'

For a split second, Sirius glanced up and met his friend's gaze. He saw such pain and frustration there that he almost felt guilty for his behaviour.

Almost.

'Harry', Sirius said quietly, 'Harry's what I'm fighting for. And I will not give up.'

James did not respond, but Sirius thought he gave an imperceptible nod. Sirius briefly put his hand to his eyes, and eased himself to his feet.

When he looked up again, he was entirely alone.

Sirius Black sat in that spot, at the passageway between worlds, and simply existed. Never a patient man in life, he learnt that skill the hard way now. Every now and then, he had a spurt of energy, and he would recite charms, run his hands over every inch of the ground, scream, beg, and even cry for freedom. As time went by, he grew more and more translucent. This, along with the remoteness of his own feelings, terrified him. Nobody else came to help him, and although he often heard James and Lily beg him to stop, he never saw them again. His one sustaining thought through it all was Harry. Because he refused to enter the world of the Dead, he could not see or know anything that was happening on the other side. His world was light and shadow, whispers and silence. He did not sleep, because there was no need. He just….was.

Nobody else fell through the Veil, in all the time that Sirius sat there. Occasionally this puzzled him, but then he supposed not many people were stupid enough to engage in battle in the Department of Mysteries and accidentally fall through.

Then one day (or night, he wasn't sure which), he heard a voice which he was quite certain did not come from the world beyond the Veil.

'Sirius Black…Sirius Black?'

He leapt up from his slumped position on the ground and stared around wildly.

'Hello?' He shouted, half excited, half afraid.

'Sirius Black, is that you?' the voice was stronger now, and sounded excited.

'Yes, yes!' He cried, 'Who are you? Where are you?'

'My…my name is Nigel Oakridge', came the reply, so close that the owner of the voice may as well have been standing over his shoulder. 'And I have very much hoped to hear your voice….are you really Sirius Black?'

'Yes yes of course I am', Sirius cried, 'I've waited…I don't even know…how long has it been?'

'It's been four years Sirius', came the reply.

His heart dropped. Four years. So much wasted time. The war could hardly still be going on. 'Harry', he said hesitantly, afraid of the answer, 'is he…what's happened?'

There was no answer for several minutes. Sirius' heart had not pounded like this since the day he died.

'I'm losing the connection', the voice was fainter now, 'Harry is alive…I'll come back again Sirius…this will take a long time but…'

'But? But what?' Sirius was frantic for more.

'I'll come back as soon as I can'. And then there was dead silence again. Sirius realised that while Nigel had been speaking to him, the whispers had stopped completely. He felt as though he had been given an electric shock.

Nigel Oakridge, whoever he may be, had come to look for him.

Sirius Black was not dead yet.