Beyond the Veil

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: Harry is determined to discover the truth about the mysterious veil that claimed his Godfather's life—could Sirius Black still be alive? (Dedicated to my little Marauders—Tori, Alex, Christine, and Day-o.)

Chapter One

The Birthday Party

Harry Potter was twenty years old today. He tossed on a blue sweater and a pair of wrinkly khaki pants that he quickly ironed with his wand using one of Hermione's grooming spells: "Use these Harry! For goodness sake!" After placing on his glasses and running a hand through his untamable hair, he opened the bedroom door, a little less than prepared to face the world.

Especially today.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said. She, apparently, had used plenty of the grooming spells—or, on second thought, she probably just looked this "kept" naturally, her brown curls wound into a loose, yet conservative bun, her blouse starch-white and her gray wool skirt strategically pressed. She took a sip of her morning coffee and turned to another page of The Daily Prophet, her eyes scanning it thoroughly.

"Coffee," she said, handing him a cup without tearing her eyes away from her reading.

"Er—thanks," said Harry, taking the cup out of her hands.

Harry didn't usually wake up to mornings with Hermione. He had his own flat across town where he lived with Ginny Weasley, but Ginny had gone to Romania to visit Charlie with her brothers and parents. That meant that Ron was also out of town, thus Hermione was all by herself for the week; she and Harry had decided to room together as not to be alone. Actually, it was entirely Hermione's idea: "Harry, you cannot be alone this week. Don't give me that look—you are always a wreck on your birthday. I know—you can stay with me. Ron won't mind."

And so here he was, on his birthday this Saturday morning, sipping a hot mug of coffee alongside Hermione Granger.

"Oh, Harry!" she suddenly yelped. Harry jumped in surprise, almost spilling his drink, and watched Hermione as she scampered from her chair and ran into the other room. A moment later, she came back in wearing both a large smile and a small package.

"Oh, Hermione…" Harry said, trying to stifle a grin.

She smiled, handing him the present. "Happy birthday, Harry."

He gently began to tear open the wrapping, if only to tease Hermione—she loved to give people presents and then await anxiously to see if they enjoyed it. In the past few years that Hermione and Harry had been friends, she had given him chocolates, a subscription to his favorite Quidditch magazine, cleaning solution for his broom, and even a few things from Fred and George's joke shop (though she did this begrudgingly and only because the twins pressured her into getting Harry things that he actually asked for).

This time, it was something Harry didn't expect at all: a plain silver chain. Harry looked up at her, puzzled.

"It's called a Love Chain," Hermione said. "They're very rare. I bought it from a shop in Bulgaria, when I went to visit Krum last summer…" she continued. "I thought it might be perfect for you."

"It's beautiful, Hermione," Harry said.

She smiled, feeling satisfied in her gift-giving expertise. "It has a history of magical properties," she said. "You know that I'm not really one for divination and old tales and such, but the story goes that if the person who gives you this chain truly loves you, it will protect you from the darkest evil."

Harry smiled. The gift reminded him of his mother; in a way, the two stories were parallel—how his mother's love had saved him from the darkest evil, from death itself.

"I love you too, Hermione," Harry said. Hermione looked as if she might begin to tear up, so she quickly excused herself to the bathroom. Harry placed the chain around his neck so that it rested under his clothes. He knew why Hermione was giving him a gift of such intimacy, and why she wanted him to stay with her so that he wouldn't have to be alone. He shook his head and began to eat the breakfast that Hermione had prepared for him that morning before he had even woken up. Ginny and Ron would be coming home tonight. That might cheer him up.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!"

By eight o'clock that night, Ron and Hermione's apartment was packed with birthday guests. The majority being the Weasleys, of course. Fred and George pat Harry on the back and each handed him a large gift that was streaming curiously from the thin paper. He put those particular gifts aside. Ginny had her arm around Harry, pulling him around to greet everyone. Bill shook Harry's hand and gave him a huge antique coin, one that he had collected especially from the Gringotts bank in Egypt in which he worked. Fleur kissed Harry on both cheeks.

"Oh, 'arry! 'appy Birthday!" she cooed. Molly was catering to the guests of course: "Percy dear, have some cheese, you are getting much too thin!"

"Harry!"

Harry turned to see a particular redhead standing across the room, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ron!"

Ron rushed up to Harry and handed him his gift—a large gift basket of Romanian foods and souvenirs.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry gleamed.

"Don't mention it."

"How was your trip? Ginny told me you ran into a troll on one of the riverbanks."

"Like a troll is anything these days…"

Harry and Ron became so deep in discussion that Harry hardly realized that a tall man with honey blonde hair and thin scars had walked up to him, a pretty heart-faced witch with long purple hair standing at his side.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks said.

"Tonks! Remus!" Harry exclaimed, turning around to greet them.

"Harry birthday!" Tonks said, handing him a pair of purple glasses that changed color every half hour. "Thought it might perk up your usual look…"

"Gee, thanks Tonks," Harry said, hastily casting the glasses to the side.

"Harry," Remus said, locking eyes with him. While everyone else at the party looked at Harry with pure excitement as to it being his birthday and all, Remus's shone with trouble—he knew of Harry's pain like no one else did, and so he became especially compassionate toward Harry during the time of his birthday.

"How are you?" Remus asked.

"Fine," Harry said softly. "I'm doing fine, thank you."

Remus nodded and excused himself to try some of Hermione's Blue Treacle Pie.

"'scuse me! 'comin through 'ere—whoops, sorry Neville, did I get your toe there? Ah, Harry!"

A tall, burly man approached Harry, long black hair hanging in his gleaming, black eyes.

"Hagrid!" Harry said. Hagrid leaned down, beaming at Harry—he literally had to lean down or else his humongous head would hit the ceiling—and handed Harry a small jittering box.

"They're Ruby Dung Beatles! Bought 'em off a friend in Knockturn Alley!" Hagrid said.

"Why can't people get you anything normal?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Harry grinned and placed the box on a table along with his other gifts.

"Thanks a lot, Hagrid."

As the night wore on, Harry began to feel a bit claustrophobic. Being in a large crowd, pretending to be happy about his birthday, made Harry feel very anxious. It's not that he wasn't happy to see them—he knew how lucky he was to have so many people care about him.

He sat on the bed, subconsciously clutching the chain that Hermione had given him. It felt cool and rough in between his fingers.

"Harry."

Harry turned around and looked up at Remus, who had snuck up on him for the second time in one night.

Remus did not approach, but placed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" he asked.

Harry stood up.

"He could be here right now," Harry said. He smiled slightly at the thought of his late Godfather. "He could be here, with us."

Remus sighed.

"Harry…" he stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I miss him, too. But you cannot dwell on the past forever. You cannot dwell on him."

Harry nodded, avoiding Remus's honest blue eyes. Over four years ago, when Harry had still been a student at Hogwarts, he had thought he'd seen Sirius being tortured by Voldemort in a dream that he could only presume was real, given the current state of things. When he had rushed to the Ministry to save Sirius, he found that it had been a trick, that Sirius had not been with Voldemort at all—but when the Order of the Phoenix found that the vision was a trap, they had rushed to save Harry—including Sirius. And in the end, Sirius had been killed, thrown through a fatal veil, by his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry had killed Bellatrix years ago, but he still missed Sirius, and it became especially bad around the time of his birthday, for Sirius had died only a few short weeks before.

Harry had never told Remus this, but shortly after he had defeated Voldemort, he had done research on the veil—at least he tried. No one at the Ministry would take him to it, or even speak to him about it. Some confessed that they hardly knew anything. And the veil was not in any of the books. If Remus knew that he had pursued knowledge of his Godfather's end, he would be disappointed: "You must know an end to your brave ambition, Harry…"

But each year, as Harry was expected to let the pain and wonder wear off, his curiosity only grew.

"I'll be back in a few moments," Harry said. "I just needed some time to myself…to think…"

Remus nodded and left the room without another word. Harry was checking himself in the mirror, straightening his glasses and not bothering to fix his hair, when he heard the voice: Harry.

It was very soft, barely audible, but it sent a shiver through Harry's heart. He looked around the room, his hand reaching for his wand. He had heard voices before—he had experienced many strange things of the sort—but that was a long time ago, when Harry was a child.

Harry…

"Harry?"

Harry jumped around, drawing his wand. Ron stared strangely at him.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, stuffing his wand back into his jeans and avoiding Ron's surprised and worried expression. He couldn't think of a good explanation to offer Ron, and Ron didn't seem to want to ask, so he said nothing.

"Are you coming?" Ron blurted out. "Hermione is dying to show you the cake she slaved over today…did it the Muggle way, basically…she's crazy sometimes…"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

Ron left the room and Harry took a final look around, checking for any explanation for the voice he had heard.

Maybe just a voice from my past, Harry thought, my mind playing tricks on me. But as he went back to the party, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something watching him, listening to him.

Loving him.