A/N Might sound like a cliche, but it's not. Give it a shot.

The Curtain Opens

Luna Scamander, a little less than twenty years after she graduated from Hogwarts, finally got to supervise her own project at the Department of Mysteries. She had worked her way up in the Department after finishing training for it for three years after Hogwarts. Because of the inherent stress of the job, employees worked for six months and then were sent on forced sabbatical for six. The job paid well enough that such a narrowly defined work schedule didn't matter. Not everyone had the mind to do what she did. It wasn't intelligence, at least not entirely, it was a way of seeing. Not like Professor Trelawney saw, or failed to see, depending on who you asked. It was hard to explain. But then, so were a lot of things in the department.

She travelled with her husband Rolf during her sabbaticals. He, not her, ended up being the one to keep up the Quibbler after the war was over, and he insisted he needed the trips for research. Luna was pretty sure that it was mostly an excuse to snog her in interesting places, but the research was fun, too. Kept her mind sharp for when she was in the Department.

And the experiment she was supervising now was, if it ended up working, going to be her sharpest yet. The function of the Department of Mysteries, nowadays, was rather different than the old days. Previously, it had been meant precisely to keep the Mysteries mysteries. To make sure no information leaked out about them and essentially to make sure that no one ever figured out what they were or how to use them.

During the first war with Voldemort, there had been a short-lived attempt to figure out whether any of the Mysteries could be somehow figured out, and, once understood, used against Voldemort. Little success was had, and the idea petered out naturally after Voldemort's disappearance, being officially banned under Cornelius Fudge. During the second war, there wasn't enough time to really make any changes before Voldemort took control of everything, and thank Merlin no one had figured out how to use any of the Mysteries while he was in charge.

But after the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had held office for fifteen years, and now his young protege, Susan Bones, decided that the Mysteries should be used, if they could be used for good, under the supervision of a well-run ministry. And Susan, who had passed rather quickly through the ranks of the ministry after Hogwarts, after Hogwarts, was doing quite a good job of following in Kingsley Shacklebolt's footsteps, at least in Luna's opinion.

Luna was often accused, jokingly mostly, of gaining special favors in her job because she was friends with Minister Bones, with whom she enjoyed a weekend brunch every weekend both were in town. Of course, the favor of the Minister could get you precious little in the Department of Mysteries, where brains counted for so much more, as Susan had often humbly claimed, than in the position of Minister of Magic. Susan had never married and never had kids, but she seemed to be happy that way. She was known to have many suitors, many younger than her, and had had plenty of boyfriends. In fact, she was known to her closest friends, Luna included, that she was currently dating a professional Chaser named Michael Hucker, on whom much of England's Quidditch World Cup hopes for the coming tournament would rest. Most people would have been surprised, had they met Susan during her fourth year, that she would turn into the woman she did. But that was before Umbridge came to school and Susan joined Dumbledore's army, before Dumbledore himself died and the army had become more than a youthful rebellion, before the Carrows, and before the Battle of Hogwarts. All these things had molded Susan, given her drive, made her want to do everything she could to make the United Kingdom a more just place for wizards, half-blood, muggle-born, or even the occasional inbred pure-blood, as she had told Luna jokingly one Sunday over brunch. And that was the thing about Hufflepuffs. They were loyal, as every Hogwarts student knew, but when they were loyal to a cause, they could fight tooth and nail for it. And that was why, Luna knew, Susan had been able to become Minister.

But, thought Luna wryly, if the project she was about to bring to culmination worked, it would not be long before Luna herself was making bigger headlines in the Prophet than Susan Bones, bigger than Harry and Ginny Potter were still doing with their arrests of old Death Eaters who had been in hiding since the war, occasionally popping up to commit the murder of a prominent muggle-born. Yes, this project was bigger than all that. And it was about to receive its first test.

Her six subordinates, Higgins, James, Wooster, Poppins, Boggins, and Marcus, were all glancing nervously back and forth at her and the gently rippling curtain that covered an archway, here, deep in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. But they had every right to be nervous. Each of them, her six subordinates, her, and the curtain-covered arch, were about to do something that hey had never done before. That had never been thought possible before. But Luna knew, somehow she just felt it. Or maybe she saw it. But either way, she knew, this first time at least, it would work. It just would.

To become a supervisor on a project in the Department, you have to come up with a project first. If you're early in your career, you could do this during your spare time when your supervisor didn't need you but you were still working. But the young ones seldom found any leads. Too green. Luna herself had had some good ideas in the past, but had been quickly identified as the one mind a senior supervisor wanted to have around all the time, because often she was cleverer than they were. Still, she snuck moments, here and there, to put together proposals for projects. But only about a quarter of projects made it past the proposal committee that met twice a year. None of hers had been practical enough, she was told. This last proposal had left the committee speechless, and a week later she was given a supervisory post, along with the six best young recruits the Department could give her. Everybody on the committee wanted this project to work. Wanted it so badly, each for their own reasons.

It was only last year, when Luna had found her first grey hair, that she had come to have her obsession with the veil. It wasn't that she was afraid of her own mortality, but the grey hair, which had no doubt been given to her by her twin boys, had somehow reminded her of death. It seemed weird that anyone needed to be reminded, but she had been, and that was that. And for her, the most potent symbol of death that she could think of was not a graveyard, not a house full of ghosts, not even Hogwarts where so many people she knew had died, but this veil, here in the department of mysteries.

People passed by it every day like it was nothing, but once, once it had taken away Sirius Black, without a struggle and without a trace, into the next world.

And then there were the whispers. The ones that you couldn't quite make out. But then, one evening, just sitting their beside the veil during a break, sitting for ten minutes, she heard a word. Just a single word. "Seven". But it was unmistakable, in spite of the fact that she waited another five minutes and her break ended before she could hear another word. Someone on the other side had talked to her.

She began coming more often, listening longer, staying after work to do it, even. She heard many different words from beyond the veil, sometimes two or three in one sitting. But they never made sense together. Once she heard "spell the cast". Another time she heard "we may we," and another time the equally infuriating "wish were wishers". It was as if she were catching snippets of riddles or tongue twisters. But then, one night, after she had heard maybe a total a dozen words, she heard the word that changed her life. She heard the word "Seven".

"It's on a loop!" she shouted to Amelia Pond, who had been in her year in Ravenclaw and was her best friend at work.

"Oi, what?" asked Amelia, rubbing her eyes. Amelia was not a morning person. This was something that Luna could identify with, usually being something of a night-owl herself. But this morning, she had news to tell, and she hadn't been able to tell her husband because he wasn't in the Department of Mysteries and, to put it bluntly, the goings on in the Department of Mysteries stayed in the Department of Mysteries.

"Okay, so, remember how I'm crazy and have been listening to non-sense gibberish from the veil?" asked Luna, realizing that perhaps she hadn't quite spelled out what the excitement was about.

"Yes, Luna," said Amelia, smiling lovingly at her admittedly odd friend.

"Well, it's not gibberish, or at least not completely. Even if the words aren't in the right order, I think it's on a loop. I want to hear the whole thing. I've told Rolf I'm going to be here all night. 'Big lead on a potential project' was all I could tell him, of course, but you know this job. Anyway, can you bring me dinner around 7? I think this is going to take hours," said Luna.

Amelia didn't respond right away. Her mouth was hanging about half open. Finally, she said, "So you really think you're communicating with the dead? Like the not-ghost dead?"

"Well, they're communicating with me, anyway," said Luna with a slight nod and a smile.

"Bonkers, you," said Amelia, pointing at Luna.

"Ugly, you," said Luna, pointing back at her. Amelia was far from ugly. In fact, she was aging particularly well, even for a witch, who were known to age well.

Amelia just smiled and confirmed that she'd bring her a hot dinner, but that she was still bonkers.

Bonkers or not, after five hours, Luna was able to copy down the following message, listening to three more words afterwards to confirm that it was in fact a loop. The message was, "Be never again spell the cast wish were wishers to once how we may we seven."

All the words and word clumps that she had ever heard come out of the veil were there, and she let "Be never again" replay before she gave up trying to get more information. The next stage was trying to work out.

She got home at ten. "Bed, sweetie?" asked Rolf, who was scribbling notes on one of his journalist's articles. Rolf usually wrote one or two articles per magazine, the rest came from his staff and free-lancers. Sometimes Luna thought that he spent more time editing other people's articles than working on his own.

"Sweetie, eh?" asked Luna. "You must have missed me."

"Well, you know. It's the kids' first year at Hogwarts. Just gets a little lonely. Anyway, you ready for an early night? I can stand any more of this mess," said Rolf.

"Unfortunately, honey," said Luna, "I can't go to bed yet. Hit a big breakthrough at the Department."

"I hate your department," sulked Rolf.

"So, I only have a time for a quick victory shag before I get back to work," said Luna.

Rolf grinned. "I love your department."

Half an hour later, she emerged from her bedroom content and ready to work. She knew how to work out sentence scrambles, they had been a feature of the Quibbler ever since her father had written it. But in the Quibbler, the words would only make up one sentence, and she was far from certain that the same rules applied here.

But the same basic tenants applied. There were definitely or probably verbs. She would play with them first. Also, she knew that the "Seven" had to go with "wishers" since it was only the plural noun. It only took her about an hour to come up with a seemingly air-tight hypothesis for what the words meant.

We may be how we once were. Seven wishers never to wish again cast the spell.

Months later, in the proposal committee, one person asked the question she had been sure somebody would ask.

"But who are the seven wishers, and why should we care if they were as they once were?" asked Perkinson.

"No, I don't think that's what it means," said Luna. "Remember, each of the voices sounded like it was in a different tone, in its own voice. I've checked my work several times since that night. Always the same words, but always the same, distinct, voice giving each word. No duplicates. We are hearing from sixteen people for sixteen different words. And sixteen is the highest number the message allows. So we aren't talking about 'we' being 16, we're talking about 'we' being, well... everyone who ever died."

"What about the wishers, though?" asked Standen. "Why do they never wish again? Do they die?"

"No, I don't think so," said Luna. "I think it just means a person can't wish to resurrect anyone more than once."

"But are we confident to risk seven people's lives on the prospect? And how do we know that what comes out of the veil is something we want to meet?" asked Perkinson. "'We' could mean anyone."

"Well, I think we would ask consent from each person on the crew. They can opt out before casting the spell. Then maybe we could get a couple aurors down here to shut the place off and kill anything that comes out that we don't like," suggested Luna.

"Well," said Merril, the head of the committee. "It's certainly got relevancy. And I agree with what you said in your proposal, Scamander. This likely means that any seven wizards can resurrect one person from the dead. However, as you've said in your report, our surest bet is the one man who's fallen through the veil."

It had taken months for her team to work out a spell that they thought would work. They took alternate shifts listening to the veil, seeing if it would say different things to different ones of them, maybe revealing the spell. But in the end, it came right down to creating a spell, along with wandwork, which they knew should work.

So that night, that fateful night, Luna Lovegood and her six subordinates, all having decided to risk death in exchange for this possibly world-altering discovery, stood covered by half a dozen aurors ready to kill anything that came out uncalled for.

"All right," said Luna. "Everyone ready?"

The six members of the Department of Mysteries nodded. The aurors smiled grimly. One of them was Harry. He did not know what was supposed to happen if the plan worked. Wasn't allowed. He just knew that if anything dangerous, or anyone he didn't recognize, entered the room through the veil, they were to be killed. It was going to be one hell of a shock, even after all these years. But such were mysteries. And all the aurors had been sworn to tell no one of what they were about to see.

"On three, then, everyone at the same time. Remember the wand motion. Starts from the top goes to bottom right first," said Luna.

She counted down from three, then heard as she and her six colleagues said "Renasco," tracing from the top to the bottom right of an imaginary triangle, the same leg of a triangle thought to represent the resurrection of the deathly hallows. But the resurrection here would not be like that given to the Peverall brother so many years ago.

"Sirius Black," they completed, finishing out the triangle, one leg per word.

A man with long, shaggy black hair stepped out of the veil, wearing a grin.

He shook his head, gaining his orientation. He stomped on the ground a few times, as if testing that it was solid.

"Oi, you," said Sirius, pointing at Luna with his wand. Luna had forgotten he'd had it when he'd fallen through. "You were there that day, when I fell through."

"Yes," said Luna. "Surprised you recognize me. Don't think we've properly met, but you've met..."

But by this time, Sirius was yelling, "Harry!" as Harry ran toward him. "Long time, no see, mate."

A/N: This could become a multi-chaptered work pretty easily. Let me know if you want it. However, if you liked this chapter please do the following: Go to www dot freerice dot com (replacing the dots with '.'), donate as many grains of rice (by answering simple multiple choice vocab questions) as you want, and tell me how many you win on behalf of my story, since we are keeping track for the group "fanfictioners against world hunger", which all of you are welcome to join.