Sirius wanted to continue, wanted to pass back through the curtain as he'd intended, but he felt he could no more disobey that voice than had it been that of his godson.
"Sirius Black." Not a command or query, just a comment, stating a fact.
A man sat beside Sirius's empty chair, opposite from where James Potter dozed. He had not noticed this man before, though he now stood out from the rest with one particularly glaring distinction. He had not been asleep.
"Where am I?"
The man, neither young nor old, smiled.
" 'All the world is a stage, and the men and women, merely players.' And that would make this place the wings."
The Hogwarts curriculum having lopsidedly condensed all of literature into a single semester of Muggle Studies, Sirius did not recognize the quote and took it literally.
"I didn't know there was a theater in the Ministry. Are you the director?"
"No," the man chuckled, "I haven't nearly the power of the Director. I am just here to help you… follow his stage directions. I suppose that would make me the Stage Manager."
"The stage manager…" Sirius repeated. "I'm sorry, I… I have to go help Harry!"
"Do not step past that curtain," the stage manager warned, before Sirius had moved to do so. "If you do, you will not be allowed to return."
"Return?" Sirius asked, puzzled. "Why would I want to return here?"
"I can not keep you here by force, but this is where you belong now. You can not be at ease out there. Only here can you rest, and wait with the others."
"Wait? Wait for what? I don't understand."
"Sirius," said the stage manager, not unkindly. "You are dead."
Further apologies to Thornton Wilder fans. Just, the way I had been picturing it reminded me of "Our Town," so I figured I'd run with it. Don't worry, I won't have Sirius sobbing at his mother's knees begging her to look at him. Or will I? XD