Author's note: this story takes place starting from the almost-end of Harry's 5th year, when Harry went to the Ministry of Magic to rescue his godfather.

Disclaimer: I'm sorry to say, I do NOT own Harry Potter, that belongs to J. K. Rowling, nor do I own the world of Eragon, that's Christopher Paolinis's by all rights. But I do own the plots of this story.

Through the Veil, a World anew

My 2nd Fanfic, Construction criticism are welcome, but please don't say anything mean. Hope you enjoy!

Author: Jaternal Paneach

Ministry of magic, Department of Mysteries, The Veil Room

Harry

"Harry, round up the others and GO!"

Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily on to the first tier of stone steps; Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight; harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step –

A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and he thrust the prophecy into his pocket.

"Come on!"Harry urged desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. 'just try and push with your legs –'

He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam – the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet of their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both Harry and Neville stared at the glass shards of what was the remains of the prophesy, a pearly white figure rose from the pile. It then begins to speak, but what were said was lost to the sounds of the crashes and sceams and yells of the dueling behind them. The speaker stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his leg continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, harry. I didn'd bean do-"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of-"

Sirius and Bellatrix are still dueling. Jets of red, green, white and (sometimes) black light flew all around them, like a tornado of flying colors. Both dodged and casted at the same time, explosions from the spells casted formed all around them and clouds of dust are flying in the air. Making anyone outside the duel hard to see what was going on except for the red, green, white, and black flashes flying about and the two figures moving amidst it all.

Harry manages to see Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

A second jet of red light hit him square in the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Then it all happened in slow motion: Harry watches in horror, mingled by numbness as his brain tries to follow what is going on, as his godfather was blasted backwards by Bellatrix's spell, curving in a graceful arc through the air, as he sank backwards through the Veil; his head, shoulders, legs, and no more.

Harry felt himself leap into action without realizing, pulling out his wand, he yelled, "EXPELLIARMUS!" and send Bellatrix Lestrange crashing into a wall, where she crumpled into a heap on the stone floor, unmoving. Then he lunges toward the ancient doorway where his godfather had just fallen through, seconds ago.

"Sirius! SIRIUS! NOOO!"

A pair of strong hands appeared out of nowhere, holding him back, it was Remus Lupin. "Harry you must listen to me, Sirius is gone, there is nothing you can do-"

But Harry was not listening; Sirius has only gone through the Veil. Surely, it must be possible to save him! So he thrashed and kicked and screamed, his elbow met Lupin's ribs, Lupin loosens his grip and staggers back. So through the veil Harry jumped, into its deep, dark depth.

Frigid air whooshed around him at at least two hundred mph; he is tumbling down in the darkness like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, only he is falling for what felt like forever. Am I falling down to Hell? Where am I going? Or… am I dead already? That was the last thought he had before losing consciousness to the frigid coldness, wand still clutched tightly in hand.

Eragon

It is a warm, sunny afternoon in the city of Teirm and its surrounding areas, in the ancient land of Alagaesia. Eragon is, yet again out to visit his dragon, Saphira, she is staying or, more accurately, hiding herself on the few cliffs on the outskirts of Teirm. Eragon and his traveling companion, or teacher, Brom are staying at Brom's friend Jeod's house.

It is a beautiful day in the beginning of April; little sprigs of flowers are already blossoming on trees and the smell of fresh grass and dirt in the air.

Saphira, what do you want to do today?

Hmm… I'm not sure, let's just enjoy the nice weather. Mmmmm… Saphira let out a growl of contentment, lolling lazily under the sun, sunbathing with her belly up. So here are two of our heroes, spending the better part of the afternoon hanging out on the top of a cliff, doing nothing; while our third hero is—

(Possibly) Falling to his death out of the other end of the tunnel the Veil had led him down to, a porthole like "window" on the top of the churning river pasting through the woodlands, just slightly over the edge of the cliff Eragon and Saphira are staying on.

Suddenly, Eragon saw what seems like a black dot that was appearing just over the cliff edge. Gripped by curiosity, Eragon stood up and ventured slowly toward it. The dot slowing expanded, until it was a table-sized… hole? Before he had time to wonder what the hole is, something came falling through in a mass of black flapping stuff. Instinctively, Eragon reached out and grabbed the mass; his hands found something that felt like cloths and he heaved, the mass was so much heavier than he anticipated and the cloth threatened to tear. Nonetheless, Eragon gripped it and slowly pull the mass onto the platform of the cliff.

What is it? Saphira appeared behind him. As Eragon looked at the pool of black mass he has just hauled up, his heart skipped a beat, it was a person.

The person turned out to be a boy, he is wearing black robes that pooled around him as he lie on the ground, in his hand was a stick (which he still grips tightly though he is unconscious), and his face is dirty with a few scrapes on it. The boy lay unconsciously on the ground. Eragon gingerly reached out a finger to touch the stranger's face, it was ice cold. He put a finger under the stranger's nose, and detected a faint brush of air as the boy breathed in and out. The boy is still alive.

Where does he come from? Saphira asked, curiosity emanating from her. What should we do with him?

Looks like he's unconscious, and frozen. But otherwise I don't think he is hurt. Eragon observed. What was that thing he appeared from, anyway?

Maybe Brom or Jeod will know. Saphira replied. You should take him to them; I have a feeling that he is someone important.

Later that Afternoon…

Eragon grunted as he heaved the boy , on his shoulder through the front door of Jeod's house; many curious passer-bys were shooting strange looks at him, probably wondering what on earth he was doing, heaving a strange boy clad in black robes through the door of the merchant's house. Eragon ignored their stares and continued on.

He had managed to lower him to the ground below the cliff with Saphira's help, and trudged back to Jeod's house carrying the strange boy on his shoulder, all the while wondering where the boy had come from and what that porthole like thing he had fallen from was.

Eragon kicked the door shut and crossed the threshold of Jeod's house, he carried the boy into the living room and placed him on the sofa. The boy still did not wake, even though his body was already warmed up as a result of Eragon's warming spell.

Shoulders aching slightly, Eragon went to find Brom and Jeod to tell them of his discovery.

Drifting, he was drifting, in seemingly nothingness, and yet shapes blurred constantly around him, in bright colors and then black and white. A form appeared in focus in front of him, it was a very pretty woman, dressed in a long white dress that came down to her knees, with fiery red hair and bright green eyes—eyes that looked just like Harry's.

"Mom?" Harry whispered, hardly believing his eyes. His mother is dead, so he must dreaming then. Then everything rushed back to him: Sirius, the Veil, Bellatrix Lestrange laughing like a maniac. Okay, so not dreaming then, he mused, he must have died. After all, who has survived a fall into the gate way of hell?

"Harry!" Lily exclaimed, catching Harry in a crushing hug.

"Okay, Lils. You know the rules, the more you touches him, the further away you draws him away from life." A deep baritone voice said.

"Oops." Harry's mother said, releasing her son. Harry turned around. There, standing a few feet behind him, was a man with warm brown eyes, like Harry, his hair was a raven black messy sticking out in every direction possible style, and his face was a replica of Harry Potter's. It was James Potter- Harry's father.

"Mom? Dad? What's going on?"

Lily was the first to answer, "oh, Harry dear, you see, when you fell through the veil, you did so willingly, going after Sirius. But when you did so willingly, you are presented with two choices."

"One, you can come with us, to the eternal garden of Eden," James Potter continued. "and stay dead. Or two, you have a choice to Fall into another world that the fates have picked for you, in which you will still have your wand and your magic, and live there, although there is a chance that you can return to the world where you came from, but it is near impossible."

"But what about Sirius?"

"Oh, Harry, he has no choice, as he did not fall into the Veil willingly, as a result he cannot return." Lily answers.

Harry's mind was spinning, should he live on, and return to Britain with a near impossible chance, and a slightly more possible chance of defeating Voldemort, or go and live in eternal happiness in the eternal garden of Eden? The latter was sounding very attractive, but somehow, a part of him did not want it. He is only fifteen, fifteen short years of life, he has not seen enough. Plus, he want to visit another world, even if he cannot return to his old life, he can choose to see more before he dies and rejoins his parents, eventually.

His mind made up, Harry said, "Mom, Dad, I want to live on."

there you go! the first chapter! please R&R!