OK, so my Mum said I had to clean my room, so I wrote this while watching LOTR instead. I hope you can enjoy the fruits of my procrastination.

There is a room deep in the Ministry of Magic that holds a veil. To the naked eye this veil holds nothing of great wonder, but to those who have seen death, you can hear the whispers from a land beyond our own; the land of the dead. The veil is a doorway, and through it you can cross over to the land of the dead, but you will be unable to come back, forced to wonder the limbo between worlds, forever.

That is the fate that awaits anyone to cross the veil. Sirius Black was one. He wasn't the first, nor will he be the last. The story of the veil begins many years ago, its tale so cloaked in secrets that even the date it came into existence is unknown. As I lay here dying, I write my last words in honor of those who have departed because of the veil. Before I tell my last tale, remember, though I speak the truth, this is not a tale of happiness or love, but of loss, a wishing for things once had.

The Minster of the day wanted a way to speak to those long dead. A common wish, but the longing for people who no longer walk this earth have driven more then one man mad. The Minster had lost his wife to the current war. He missed her dearly, and it was this sorrow that caused him to send out the order to create a portal to the land of the dead.
For weeks, months, even years, wizards and witches worked, trying to create what was asked of them. Many where driven insane by the complexity of that task they where given. Some vanished altogether, never to be heard of again. How long it took will remain a mystery. All that is known is that they succeeded in completing the task.
The Minster, maddened by grief, stood before the veil. He could almost hear the whisper of his wife calling to him. Other voices whispered too (few can hear what they say clearly). The Minster stepped through the veil, hoping to see his wife.
He never did. He now stands just beyond the veil, whispering warnings to all those who try to cross into the world he is forced to roam. Time and time again, his warnings went unheeded. With each new victim, a new voice joins that of the Minster; voices that whisper the warnings to all who come near.

The Veil holds death, and only death. No hope, no life. There is no way out of death, you can stall it, try as you might to keep it from coming, but it will come in the end. My end is near, I can feel it. I have been cursed by dark magic held within a ring. I have less then a year left. My end has been planned. Remember, dear children, death is not the end, but merely the next great adventure.

This was the last entry in the diary of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, dated three days before his death.

Sooo, what do you think? Review flames welcome, they amuse me.