A flash of red and a something like fabric fingers tickled his neck as ghostly velvet hands pulled him back. A slur of beautiful colors flew before his eyes. Purples, oranges, greens, reds and blues all swam before Sirius's eyes, illuminating Harry and Remus, the last two faces he saw before he fell. He smiled, stretching his arm out, and then the colors faded. They all blurred together the way dye ran in a fountain all fell to black. The last sound he heard was Harry's agonized cry for him and Bellatrix Lestrange's demonic cackle of sweet success.

Sirius squirmed. He had to get to Harry. But he didn't move. He couldn't speak. And as if he was falling asleep, Sirius went backwards, all his senses leaving him.

Silence. Never before had silence sounded so loud, ringing in his ears.

Sirius didn't know how much time had trekked on between then and now. He didn't know if he could move. He didn't want to try. He opened his eyes to a room that seemed darker than behind his own eyelids.

There was a disturbance in the still air beside him and he could still hear the screams of Harry above him, crying his name.

Sirius sat up quickly, feeling a pain sear to life on the back of his head where he had landed on it. He swayed momentarily, one of his arms feeling very stiff, the rest of his body numb and relaxed, as if every muscle in his body had taken an anesthetic.

He groaned and stretched. "I wish I could see where I was…" he mumbled to himself. After all, there was no one for him to speak to. His voice only rebounded back at him, bouncing around the darkened room wildly.

He deemed it a lost cause and went to lie back down, but was forced into his seated position once more.

"Oh, but you can…" A voice spoke to him from some unknown place in the room.

"Hello?" Sirius asked, his voice cracking a bit. "Who's there? Where am I?" His throat was dry and it hurt to speak.

"You have to really want to see where you are."

"But I do really want to see where I am…" Sirius said slowly, still trying to wrap his brain around what exactly it was that was happening.

"Then prove it. You have to really believe it."

Sirius closed his eyes and thought I really need to see where I am as many times as he could. Sweat started to bead down his brow.

"It takes a little while to get used to that," the voice said, almost like a song. "Once you get used to it, you'll be able to get whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Sirius asked, still concentrating on how much he wanted to see where he was.

"Whatever you want," the voice said a lilt hiding under the giggle in it. "Look, sir."

Sirius opened his eyes to see a warehouse-like room. There were so many things in there. Whole libraries of books, busts of people Sirius didn't know, a weird black filing cabinet, papers, pictures, and there was even a bloody axe inches from where he sat. He squirmed away from it, tripping over a gaudy candelabrum and crashing into a suit of armor.

The voice laughed. "Be careful."

"Thanks for the warning. What is this place, anyways?"

The voice sighed dreamily. "Isn't it just beautiful?"

"Well, that wasn't the word I was looking for… You didn't answer my question, woman! What is this place?" Sirius said, assuming the voice had a gender.

"I don't really know." It answered softly after a moment's pause.

"Well, whatever it is, it's filled a boat load of shit…" he said, kicking a bowl of soup and half-eaten crackers out of his way.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure," the voice recited as if her mouth was full of sky.

"Yeah, that's different," Sirius pointed. "If this junk was someone else's treasure, don't you think someone would claim it already?"

"I hadn't finished," the voice continued. "And one man's treasure is another man's trash. This is where all that left over trash goes I guess." Sirius could hear the voice shrug.

Sirius continued looking around, examining random artifacts he found. "So," Sirius said, throwing the broken clock he was looking at over his shoulder. "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?" He asked to voice, wherever she may have been.

"Just want one."

Sirius concentrated hard on his dry throat and the cool liquid he wanted to go down it. A goblet appeared to his right, filled to the brim in nice, cool liquid. Sirius, with urging from the voice put the goblet to his lips and drank.

"Water?" he asked, puzzled, looking at the goblet. "I finish fighting Death Eaters and this is what I get?"

"Well," the voice said a little sternly, but still maintaining her distant, dreamy mystique. "This place knows what you need and want. You may have wanted something else, but you got what you needed. This is a clever little place."

"Clever…" Sirius said, chugging more water. He was feeling a little better now, but his head was still sore and he wanted to be with Harry, fighting.

"So how did you get here?" The voice asked conversationally.

Sirius shrugged. "I…" he felt slightly ashamed now. "I was killed by curtains."

The voice gasped. "The Department of Mysteries?" If the voice had hands, Sirius was sure she would be clasping them over her invisible mouth.

"Yeah. You know, I always imagined I'd make a more theatrical exit… You've heard of it?"

"Of course I have."

"How did you get here?" Sirius asked back, watching his glass automatically fill itself back up.

"Like so many of us do, I died."

"You mean to tell me that you once had a body?"

"What do you mean 'had'?" The voice asked. "I still have my body it's a matter of getting back that's my problem."

"Getting back where?"

"To my family, of course!" The voice still seemed like a disembodied force, despite Sirius's knowledge of her body. It still seemed odd to think the voice had a body and family.

"Oh. Sorry. You must miss them."

"Yes. I do, especially my little daughter."

"Merlin…" Sirius said, feeling worse by the second. "That's terrible. I'm sorry."

"Yes. It is terrible I suppose. But one day I'll see her again. I hope that day doesn't come soon, though. But here I will be if she needs and I'll welcome her with open arms the day she enters this place."

"Yeah," Sirius said, setting his goblet down and taking a seat on a nearby stool. "If you believe in that sort of thing."

"You mean you don't?"

"You know," Sirius said, with a sigh, "I did. And then I died and came here. I always thought I'd see my friends again when I died. But…" he looked around. "They aren't here. There's nothing her but a bloody axe, books and a bunch of junk."

Sirius knew that the voice, though he couldn't see it was shaking its head. "They aren't supposed to be here."

"Then where are they?"

"Where they belong."

"Which is where?"

"Well, were they good people?"

"They were very good people, some of the best I knew."

"Then they're in Heaven."

"Then is this Hell?" Sirius was scared to know the answer.

"I'd imagine not. Hell would be a lot worse than a storage bin that gave you whatever you wanted, don't you think?"

"Limbo, then?"

"From what I've figured out, I believe where you and I are is a place between here and there."

"That," Sirius said, taking another sip of water, "was a very profound statement in which you told me absolutely nothing. Thank you." He said sarcastically.

"Then you'll have to figure it out for yourself, won't you?" The voice laughed jubilantly again.

"If you have a body, where are you?" but there was no answer coming back to him. "Hello?"

Nothing. Silence met his awaiting ears. It crept eerily into all five of his senses, sending shivers up and down his spine. He shook them off; still stunned by everything that had happened recently. The Department of Mysteries, the veil, this uncertain place… It all flashed before his eyes as he sat, amidst the junkyard of forgotten belongings like a helpless child. Only two memories of a similar, vulnerable feeling like this flooded his memory. He saw his self, several years back, sitting on a mountain of rubble, his best friends, James and Lily lying crushed and broken somewhere beneath the maze of brick and wood as a sleeping Harry, his head hot, adorning a new scar snuggled close into his chest. Tears streamed from Sirius's face and into Harry's soft, messy hair. Sirius's arms ached with longing to hold Harry, or even just to see him. He saw himself next, sitting, in a far, dark, and dank corner in a cell in Azkaban prison, wringing his hands together with the remains of hope as he saw prisoners be released. What remained of his soul imagined a filling meal, the comfort of his own bed and the warm embrace of friends he loved. He could only imagine how much therapy he would need when he got out, if he got out.

It was when Sirius awoke that he even realized he was sleeping. He sat up with a start, the room sighing to live at the recognition of it being in use once more.

The stalactites on the ceiling hung with loneliness in the dimly lit room. Despite there being no windows, sunlight seemed to beat through. Sirius missed sunlight. One day of being dead and sunlight had already gone from his memory, but at the same token, he had been in jail for twelve years before hand, so sunlight was a rare luxury.

He followed a particular beam's path, his eyes landing on something vast, big, and black.

"Hey, umm, voice lady?" Sirius called out, "What's this… thing?"

"I've hazarded a few guesses." She answered, her voice sounding from different directions in the oblong room.
Sirius was glad to hear her voice, relieved that there was someone to talk to. "And what have you 'hazarded'?" he asked, unable to take his eyes from the odd trunk in front of him.

"I believe it's a portal."
"A portal?" Sirius asked with skepticism. "To where?"

"The other side, of course!" the voice answered back as if she had just answered the most obvious thing in the world.

Sirius felt his feet move beneath him, his hand outstretched. If he was dead, he wanted to be where he belonged; with James and Lily. He didn't want to be in this room with half another person and a bloody axe. At least I won't be bored… Sirius thought, catching sight of a yo-yo.

Sirius grasped the handle, slowly turning it within his palm. But before his eyes could see the inside of this… whatever it was, he was pushed to the side, his head hitting the concrete ground with quite a bit of force. "Ow! What was that?"

"I'm so sorry," the voice said, now definitely behind him. "But precautions must be taken."

"Precautions?" Sirius said, rubbing the large bump that was forming on his head. "That really hurt, you know."

"Yes, precautions." There was a small pause of thought before the voice continued. "You didn't hear it from me, but…" The woman dropped her voice for a moment, as if to check to see if the coast was clear. Then who did I hear it from? We're the only ones here… Sirius thought, seconds before she continued. "I hear things, sir. Dreadful things. There was, as I feared, screaming from inside that cabinet. Yes, screaming. There has been chanting. These can't be good signs."

Sirius wanted to laugh at the woman's delusions. "Right. So ambushing me was to keep me away from a few monks with voice modulation problems?"

"I'm serious, sir."

"Serious," he said, cutting her off, "Believe me, I know 'serious', and that," he said fingering at the ornate detail on the black box, "was what I call just plain crazy."

"Go in there, and you'll die." The voice was shaking and he could envision it dripping salty tears made from foggy nothingness.

"Die? I thought that was why I was here in the first place."

"Oh, no, sir." She said, "You can get out of here, we all can. You just need to find a door..."

But Sirius wasn't listening to the woman's jumbled beliefs. He busied himself with the odd patterns on the black wood, and after finding it tedious went on to play with the poor abandoned yo-yo.

He knew he couldn't possibly be dead. Who ever heard of death by curtains? He knew he had to get out, but how he would go about doing that was beyond his wildest dreams.

He wished his companion would show herself. He wished she was more than just a voice of comfort.

Sirius had to have a seat. Death was a rather large thing to wrap your mind around. Sirius was starting to get itchy. He began to wonder if maybe that was a side effect from dying by draperies. But he figured constant itchiness was better than constant pain. Yes, he concluded, death would take a bit of getting used to. That was, until he realized he was only itchy because he was sitting blindly on an ant farm someone had stuck in the Room of Random Shit.

He managed to get the ants off just in time to hear his stomach growl. Sirius was a little shocked that a dead man could still eat.

"If your hungry," the voice started, making Sirius jump, "all you have to do it…"

"I know, I know. All I have to do is think about how much I want food. I know the drill now."

Merlin, I'm hungry. I want food… I want food… I need food… I want and need food… he repeated this mantra over and over again until a steaming bowl appeared in his lap.

That's great and all, Sirius thought, but can't I get a spoon, too? And so, one appeared in his right hand, as if an invisible maid was mothering him. Egg drop soup never tasted so good. It ran down his throat, the hot broth blistering his insides, warming them immensely. The mushrooms and eggs satisfied his stomach enough to cease its roaring. It now hummed with satiated digestion. "Thank you," he said out loud, laying down on his back, staring up at the ceiling he had somehow fallen through. "You know," he said to the voice, wherever she may've been. "There was so much stuff that I hadn't done. Being in jail for twelve years means you can't do much with your life, you know."

"Yes, I'd suppose not. Why were you in jail?"

"Wrongly accused by the wrong people of a crime I didn't commit."

"Well that's not good," she said, that air of bliss still encompassing each vowel.

"Yeah. And the rat that did do it got away."

"There's still no need for name calling."

"No, he's literally a rat…"

"Oh." It seemed odd to Sirius that the woman appeared to believe every word he said.

"So," Sirius said, conversationally, "you said you had a daughter. What's she like?"

"She was, or is, the most amazing child, or young woman, now come to think of it, that anyone could ever meet. She was bright and curious, she always telling stories and smiling. She was a rather outgoing young girl, a trait she gets from her father. She was also inquisitive, always asking questions about everything, but she always accepted your answer. She was amazing." For once, the woman's dreamy voice matched her words perfectly, as if she was reliving every memory she had with her. "What about you? Do you have any children?"

"No," Sirius snorted, "not that I know of. That was a joke, you can laugh. No, I don't have any kids. I have a godson, Harry who I love to, well, death." Sirius almost laughed at accidental joke, but stopped himself when he looked at the irony, "He's a great young man, just like his father. He's smart, athletic and kind, but has a certain disregard for the rules, which I. of course, applaud him on. I… I wonder how he's doing. I wonder what he's doing. Hey, lady?" Sirius asked, his eyes glancing around from his position on the floor. "Is there a time difference between here and…" Sirius made a circular motion with his hands, signaling the whole world, "and there?"

"I'd imagine not." The voice said, being not as helpful as Sirius would've liked, again. "What was it you had wanted to do?"

"Well I don't know. There was this woman I was in love with. I always wanted to marry her, but she probably couldn't give a rat's ass about me. I always wanted to have my own family, Harry and my house elf is all I got, and one of them hates me, so I really only have Harry. I always wanted more time with Remus. He's my best friend I regret every day that I didn't laugh with him. I wanted to go to Sweden. I hear it's rather nice over there. And I always wondered what would happen if you ate frozen yogurt in a sauna. I also wanted to take Harry to a Quidditch game, you know, be the father figure to him that he never had… Who am I kidding?" Sirius asked. "I can't even find the damned door. How am I supposed to do all of these things if I can't even get out of here to do them?"

"Sir," the voice said, "I think you found the door."