The room that awaited them beyond the veil was dark, Sirius could see not much more than shadows, velvety and cold at the same time. There was a ledge of rock in the center of the room, and the spirit led him forward to gaze at it. Sirius could smell the thing lying on the stone before he could glimpse it. Coppery and placid, it rested, unmoving. There were tattered robes covering most of it, and he didn't dare look at the face of it, for fear of whom he would see.

Sirius diverted his attention to other areas of the dark room, wanting to know where he was. A pale light seemed to illuminate only the center of the room, making the body on the stone the only focal point of the room. He couldn't help his wandering eyes, but was helpless to see anything else.

Sirius glanced at the phantom next to him. It was unmoving, hardly perceptible at all in the shadows of the room. A hand was stretched and pointing to the body, and Sirius knew that this was the culmination of their travels. He was meant to look at this thing and understand. The robes that the corpse was shrouded in seemed to call to Sirius, begging him to look, but he was helpless to move them, anymore than he could dismiss the specter beside him.

Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion. But of the loved, revered, and honored head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike. And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal! *

Something spoke in Sirius's head, a voice unlike any other he had heard, and he trembled at the sound. It was no of the specter nor the body on the table, but seemed to stem from the depths of his very mind, and he reeled for a moment, collecting himself from the silent auditory assault. Sirius wondered what the man before him would utter if he was brought back to being, and he trembled again as an onslaught of righteous pain wracked him.

The body lay, in this cold dark chamber, no man woman or child to be found, no words of loss, no laments sung for him. The man had died, alone in all senses of the word. The hand of the phantom still pointed, now directed at the shrouded head, and Sirius shook his own. The movement startled the rats in the shadows and they were the only sound that could be heard.

"Spirit. This is a dreadful place. If we leave now, I will remember its lesson, I will not forget it." Sirius stammered, trying to ignore the hand that sought him to remove the robe.

Still the ghost pointed.

"I understand you, and I would move it if I could, but I can't. There's just somethings a man can't do, and this is one of them. I can't face whatever is under there, I lack the strength." Sirius said, pleading with his guide.

Still the ghost pointed.

"If there is any person in this town who laments the passing of this man, please show them to me, for I fear I cannot go on. Someone must know this man, someone must feel for him. Show me that person, Spirit, please." Sirius continued to beg.

The phantom seemed to consider for a moment, and then in one graceful movement, he spread his cloak out, bringing to Sirius's mind a bat in graceful flight, unnatural. The scene changed before them, and Sirius was grateful to be away from the body laid on the rock.

It was Grimmauld Place, and he blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sunlight that was streaming in the kitchen window. It was recent by the looks of things, and Molly was seated at the table, cutting vegetables the muggle way for dinner.

Ginny was seated with her, not helping, but keeping her company. Molly seemed nervous, and the sounds from the outside made her jump.

There was a crack outside the door, and she jumped from her seat. Arthur opened the door and quickly shut it. Molly ushered Ginny from the kitchen and sent her up to her room. She shut the kitchen door and waved her wand at it and the surrounding walls a few times. This was a discussion that none of the children needed to hear.

Arthur's face was pinched and worn, as though the day was long even thought it was only early afternoon. He plopped into the chair nearest him and rubbed his eyes. Molly conjured some tea and placed a cup before him. There was no work at the Ministry today, but the Order had met.

Molly waited a while, let him finish his tea before she tentatively asked about what they talked about. Arthur took a deep breath and tried to piece together the events of the day.

"Is it good, or bad?" She asked, trying to help him along.

"Bad." He answered. It was rare that he brought home bad news to his wife, she knew that well.

"The Order is ruined?" She asked, hoping that the casualties of the last few days had not broken their spirits.

"No, there is hope yet, Molly. Dumbledore wouldn't continue if there was no hope." He said.

"If Sirius consents, there is." Molly said. "Nothing is as uncertain if that happens."

"He's past consenting. He's dead. For good. Dumbledore couldn't do anything for him, the veil was gone, there was nothing left to do for him."

Molly was overcome with relief for a moment, never being find of the gruff man that had placed them in reckless danger on more than one occasion, and she berated herself the next moment for thinking such a horrible thing. There was nothing more she would like to do than not have to face this right now. Sirius was gone, another of the Order's founders lost to the cause, and for what?! Nothing.

"Aberforth showed today. He said he came across Bellatrix LeStrange, cloaked and sneaking down the street outside of his tavern. He stopped her, fool that he is, and he said she was drunk and babbling. Something about being the Dark Lord's most faithful. She disapparated before he could contact the Ministry, but she told him that she burned the veil. She seemed so proud of it." Arthur's voice seemed weak. "When Aberforth said it, Dumbledore didn't break down, but he had tears in his eyes. I think we all realized then that he was gone for good."

"Who will Headquarters go to then?" Molly asked, suddenly looking around the room.

"No one knows. There's a test Dumbledore needs Harry to complete, and it should figure out who the house belongs to." He caught the worried look she threw at him. "Dumbledore says it's safe to be here. We're fine here for now."

There was an uneasy peace in the house, and Arthur and Molly seemed to come out of their anxiety slightly as the day passed. Preparations were all being handled by Dumbledore, and they just needed to stay put and keep watch of the house. There was nothing here that they needed, and aside from slight shock of the passing, they went about their normal business.

"Please show me some tenderness connected with death. Or forever the image of that dark chamber will haunt me." Sirius pleaded with the Spirit.

With that, they left the small room and the phantom guided him down familiar streets and to a small house that he recognized immediately. Sirius looked around the streets for himself, sure that there had been some mistake, the sinking feeling he had started to feel was certainly wrong.

They crossed the threshold of Remus Lupin's small house, the one that his mother and father raised him in, the one that he now inhabited alone.

It was silent as a tomb in the house, and they spied Remus seated before the fire, Tonks at his side, neither of them saying a word as they both weighed heavy thoughts in their minds.

Tonks raised a book from the end table and dusted off the cover. She flipped open the pages and came to a well worn section.

"And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them." Her small voice wavered.

Sirius had heard these words before and his ears perked up a bit, trying to remember them. He waited for Tonks to say more, but there was nothing. He wondered why she had only read than small line, and looked back to the fire.

Remus listened as well, and as she stopped, he raised a hand to his face.

"The fire hurts my eyes." He said simply.

Tonks patted his arm, which he jerked away from her. He didn't seem to notice that he had, and she crossed her hands in her lap, hurt.

"I wonder where he is, if he can come back." She said, rather than asked. "Why was it his time? And not mine? Or anyone else?"

Remus sighed and put his head back. "It was past his time." He said. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

They both became quiet again. Tonks spoke up in a quiet voice.

"It seems like just yesterday he and I played quiddich in the yard. And ran through the streets. Now..." She faltered.

"Me too." Remus said. "And James, and Lily, and all the others that aren't here today, except in my thoughts.

"I miss him. I didn't know him as well as you, but I miss him." Tonks said.

There was a knock at the door, and Remus crossed the room to open it. Dumbledore walked inside and gave them both a sad look. Tonks had never seen the man in this state, but Remus had. Without a word, they crossed to each other and hugged. Two wizards sharing their grief for what seemed like a thousand times too many.

"Don't mind it, Albus, don't be grieved." Remus said. The display was shocking to Tonks, who was new to seeing Dumbledore in this state.

Albus seemed to take a deep breath and turned to Tonks. He embraced her as well, and seemed more pleasant now that he had spent his tears. They visited and went over any arrangements that had to be made. Harry was too young to deal with any of it, and Remus was like a brother to Sirius.

The will would be read on Sunday. They wanted to finish it as soon as possible. Remus understood. He nodded when he was supposed to, and signed the conjured papers that were presented to him.

"There is a small memorial erected. As you know, there is nothing to place in the ground, but there will be a place to mourn him nonetheless. In Godric's Hollow. Next to Lily and James, a marble stature, surrounded by green, rained on by leaves. I wish you would come to see it, I know it would help you, Remus." Dumbledore said.

Remus's mouth would not function. There was nothing he could say to the old man before him. How could he tell them that he was not only mourning the deaths immortalized there, but the loss of himself? The loss of a child that had died and died and died but came no closer to being dead, no matter how hard he tried. Remus could think of no words that could make sense of the thoughts in his head, the thoughts that so circled around death so much that it became an obsession. He stayed silent and only nodded, Tonks giving her false reassurance that they would go, they would see it. Tonks would take him to where his body would lie. She would take him there she said.

Remus listened nodding where he should, saying goodbye where he should, giving the reassurance that everyone needed, but not feeling it yet. Tonks left soon, and he retreated to his room. Back against the door, Sirius was before him as the face of his longtime friend crumbled. Fell apart. Shattered. Sirius fought the urge to scream as the waves of raw greif finally washed over him, and he shuddered as the man before him passed through him and smashed the mirror that reflected only one of them now. There was nothing to stop the unbridled grief as it passed through the room like a live current, and the Spirit silently watched, his hand pointing to the devastation that Sirius had begged to bear witness to.

* means I took that passage directly from the text by Dicken's. I love that quote, and just couldn't change it.