I'm sooo sorry, I had to repost this yet again. But this time I definitely fixed the tags.

Penumbra
Chapter I

Pen-um-bra /pi´numbra/ n partly shaded region around the shadow of an opaque body (esp round the total shadow of the moon or earth in eclipse).
Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary of current English,
Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1974

Penumbra f (media luz) half-light, semidarkness
The Oxford Spanish Dictionary,
Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1994

Penumbra – in ancient treatises this word is sometimes used to refer to the period of time directly following a trip in time, probably due to the conviction that the events of that period could alter the natural flow of events and change the history … The existence of penumbra zones or its mere possibility has never been demonstrated… …will never be due to the restrictions imposed on the time travel by the Moscow Treaty in 1958 …
Ancient origins of the modern science,
Oxford Magical Press, Oxford, 1999

Nothing in life is easy. This is true for everybody. But for Sirius Black, those words were like a merciless mocking that came to haunt him again and again, laughingly reminding him of itself every time he thought his troubles were over.

They had been so close. Dumbledore was a careful, sharp planner. The Order of Phoenix had finally discovered all its potential and lost the fear of using it. He himself had finally overcome his fear. For a couple of endless, sweet months he had believed in happiness. They had almost done it. He had almost done it.

He didn't want to remember, but he could do nothing else. The remnants of what had been Voldemort's hideout lay around him, destroyed to ruins that would never again be restored. The Death Eaters had fled, and those who hadn't had paid for their slowness. The battle had been long, but it had been won, and none of the members of Voldemort´s inner circle were going to rise again. They had been so close… And they the Ministry had come.

He could still see the scene with crystal clarity. He had been walking down the hill, away from the smoke and the smell of the battle. He had felt the magical power leaving him, a power that wasn't his, that belonged to the others and had been given him through the Phoenix Enchantment. They trusted him, and he didn't betray their trust. He simply walked down the hill, drained to the last spark of his wand, weak but happy. Thinking of Remus, of Harry, imaging their faces when he told them they had done it. Watching the people in Ministry uniforms coming up toward him. Seeing the first of them raising his wand.

Something should have clicked in his mind. The instinct of survival. It didn't. The only thing that followed was darkness. And now he was locked up in a white, sterile room completely devoid of furniture, waiting for them to come. What an incredibly stupid way to go down. And he seemed unable to get rid of the image of that hand slowly coming up.

No, you will forget it. Very soon you will forget everything.

Somewhere far away a sound of a key in a keyhole, wards being lifted, voices, steps. There was nothing he wanted more than shut his ears, close his eyes, bury his head in his arms and let the reality around him disappear. Another thought, desire, feeling that wasn't his. There were three Dementors outside, and he was able to find a twisted satisfaction in the fact that he felt like there was only one. The steps weren't in a hurry, merrily oblivious to the fact that their sound was a torture worse than the verdict they carried. Sirius stood up and faced the door.

I won't scream. Did you hear, Black? You won't scream.

It hurts to go to sleep feeling happiness fill your whole body and wake up to find a Dementor leaning over you. He remembered wondering in the haze of the stun why the universe outside felt so dark and scary and waking up seemed a wrong thing to do. Then he opened his eyes and found out. He didn't scream then, only fainted again. And of course, they thought he was pretending, because thanks Fudge everyone knows that Dementors don't affect Sirius Black, so they…

He forced himself to stop on the line that led to that memory.

It hurts when people you are trying to protect from their own innocence watch you crawl on the floor in anguish. They don't look away. They feed on the suffering. A new type of Dementors. And their eyes are clear and composed, and they tell you exactly how much they fear you and how much they hope you will suffer before you die. Because you deserve to suffer for the fear they feel in your presence, for disrupting their little prefect world, for the fact they won't be able to watch that Quidditch match as unperturbedly as they would had you never entered their lives. It hurts… it's a wonderful feeling.

Soon you won't be allowed to feel anymore.

The sound of footsteps in front of the door.

I won't…

Fudge. The only thing he really saw was the white collar of his shirt and the place where a stain had marked the fabric, was washed and left an almost imperceptible spot. The spot suited Sirius fine. It prevented him from looking at the Dementors.

… scream.

The spot came nearer, and so did the wave of hopelessness. He was drowning in it and the words were loosing their meaning, becoming simple sounds that were laughing at him. Not only the words in his head. Outside Fudge was saying something, other voices screaming angrily at one another, but all that was too far away, in another world where warmness existed and the nightmares could be held at bay. Inside, the nightmares crept nearer.

I won't let that bastard hear me scream.

His hate gave him enough strength to keep his promise, but that was all. His body was no longer following his commands, and his mind was no longer able to give them. For an instant of clarity he realised that he was leaning on the wall, his body desperately fighting for distance between him and them. He felt the harsh and cold walls with the palms of his hands, with the flesh of his arms, with his back. His head rested on the unyielding stones. Nowhere to go… Tears burned his eyes from inside as he realised that he wouldn't be able to hold that only promise he had made to himself.

And everything was starting to go so well…

Slimy hands touched his shoulders, crooked fingers probed his flesh and he fought blindly and desperately to get away, but the dead hands held him with steel strength. There were too many, and his body went numb where they touched him. The hands pinned his arms and the bodies leaned on him, caressed him, drank his heat. In Azkaban he would have never gotten so far conscious. Now he was strong and healed enough to witness step by step his own descent into darkness. Above him, the last Dementor took off its hood.

The scream he had been holding so long fought its way through his throat. No sound came out. Every bit of his vibrating anguish was absorbed by a thirsty mouth pressed against his face, and he felt the being forcing his lips open and tearing into his soul. The cold broke inside and washed over everything that was his. The Dementor sucked it in slowly, savouring the taste of its victim, and Sirius screamed and screamed and screamed like he never had before. He was falling down, up, back and forth, and there was nothing he could hold onto. Nothing except pain that wasn't physical but real nonetheless, inflicted by the mind to the mind itself. Then came the memories, images, sounds, and he was able to feel every one of them being brutally torn out, broken to pieces, frozen and sucked through his mouth, leaving nothing but the taste of rotten flesh inside his mouth. He tried to hold on the memories, but each of them was shattered and surrounded by cold. James, Lily, Harry, Remus, Peter, James, Lily, James, Harry, James, James…

Tears poured down his cheeks, and with all the strength he could muster, all his hate, fear and desperation he jerked back and brought his knee up, aiming to where it would hurt more. He hit again and again blindly, not caring about the outcome, not hoping for anything, not realising that his arms were suddenly free to attack and his mouth free to breath. Not understanding that the words that clang in his ears were his own screams, that he was hitting and crying and screaming "That's for Lily, that's for James, that's for Harry, that's for me!"

He didn't see the silvery shining that swept around the room. He didn't see the room at all. But he stopped when he realised the Dementors were gone and sank on the floor, shaking with his whole body. There was only dirt left. Dirt on his arms where they touched him, the taste of the kiss on his lips.

The taste of a rotten corpse.

He wiped his mouth once, twice, knowing he would never get rid of it. But that wasn't the worst. Inside, the dirt would stay forever. There was no way to wash the soul.

Violent seizures overcame him once more, leaving him exhausted and cold. This time the reality finally claimed him and he became aware of the room, as white and sterile as before, and of Severus Snape standing above him with unreadable expression.

He really wished he could find the rest of the hatred he used to feel for Snape. It would give him strength to collect himself. But right now the only thing he felt was emptiness, and didn't give a damn if Snape saw him shivering at his feet. He couldn't care less about impressions. There could be white walls outside, but inside was only debris covered in the putrid breath of the Dementor. He would never feel warm again.

Snape bent over him with something in his hand, and Sirius realised with a start that it was a tablet of chocolate in colourful wrapping. He tried to focus, but its meaning eluded him. The wrapping weaved back and forth in front of him, but it wasn't the chocolate that finally broke the circle that held him prisoner of his own nightmares. It was the realisation that there was another figure lying on the floor, clad in the purple cloak of Minister Fudge. The hatred he couldn't feel for Snape came back at the sight of the Minister.

Snape followed the direction of his gaze. "Finally tried his own medicine, that asshole."

There could be no mistake about the dark satisfaction with which Snape voiced Sirius' own thoughts. It made Sirius accept the chocolate but he still made no move to tear the wrapping. Doing it would make it official; Snape had just saved his life. He knew he had to be grateful, and he also knew that when the first shock was over he would be. The thought didn't scare him nearly as much as it should.

Snape's whole attitude made very clear that he didn't give a damn what Sirius planned to do with his gift. Nor did he seem worried about their tricky position. Any of the hundreds of Aurors and Ministry officials could enter at any minute, see the Minister unconscious on the floor in the company of a convicted murderer and an ex-Death Eater and give the alarm. Sirius chose not to think about what they would do next. Attack first and listen later seemed to be the typical procedure. He tried to stand up and was unable to hold away the wave of sickness.

-We've got to...- Everything went black in front of his eyes. God, he hated to be that helpless. He hated to depend on somebody for keeping him safe. He hated to depend on Snape for anything.

-We have to get out of here.- Snape's words were right, but when Sirius' vision cleared he realised that the man was standing with his back to the door, examining walls that were no longer white but covered in green mush and full of fissures. He suddenly became aware that the same mush covered the whole floor. And more: something about the room had changed imperceptibly.

-What the hell...- Snape wasn't listening to him. He turned around and stormed out of the room. – Wonderful. Go get yourself killed.- But the survival instinct told Sirius to do the same, and that instinct had served him well over the three past years. -Except the last time.

The rush of adrenalin cleared his head. He crawled to Fudge's prone figure, searched his pockets and extracted the wand. –If I find out that he broke mine again I'll break his neck.-That was better. Much better. In spite of the exhaustion he had to keep moving. If he stopped for a second, if he gave himself time to think about the Dementors he'd probably have a breakdown. He had no time for that. Safety first, everything else could wait.

He forced himself to stand up and walk out of the room, wand up. A deserted passageway greeted him. Ahead, Snape's running steps resonated through the corridors, and if Sirius had strength for anything else except for walking he would have realised that it was the only sound that filled the building. They were alone. He had to use the wall for support, and his fingers came away covered with the same dirt that attracted Snape's attention. His first thought was of a Dementor and he had to force himself to stay calm. –It's dirt, only dirt. Nobody has been here for years.

Except that he knew the building. He had been there before. And it couldn't be deserted. It just couldn't be. –I don't give a damn. I have no strength for this. I have no strength for stupid mysteries...

The corridor ended in a huge hall, and Sirius froze at the entrance, suddenly recognizing the place. The Ministry of Magic. Where else would they bring him? And the muggle Ministry of Something... whatever it was that they shared the building with. The invisibility charms were down, the containment wards broken. Both the magical and muggle parts came into view, and the result was the strangest mixture of the both worlds Sirius had ever witnessed. A cold finger ran down Sirius' spine, and for the first time the feeling didn't make him sick with fear of another Dementor. There were greater problems… He never imagined he would think that way.

Snape had crossed the hall and was standing near the marble stairs that led to the street. His wand arm hung lifelessly at his side. A sense of terrible and unavoidable destiny came over him. –No, no, no…- Sirius' mind screamed without realising that he still had no idea what he was trying to deny. He had never imagined that seeing Snape scared would scare him as well. Painfully, he walked toward him, already knowing what he was about to see.

No knowledge could have spared him the shock of the reality. The whole of London lay in ruins around them. No people, no animals, nothing except the mush of time on the fallen walls.

NO.

Hundreds of reasons explaining why it couldn't be real flew through his head. One look at Snape's slumped shoulders as he turned and slowly walked back into the building confirmed that it was.

Why me? Why everything in this world has to happen to me?

Selfish, childish, but he couldn't change the way he felt. He felt like screaming. Half way through the hall Snape turned, met Sirius' shocked gaze and flashed a forced smile at his life long rival.

-I guess we lost the war after all. Say hello to the future, Black.-

A/N: First of all, hi everyone! I want to say thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write more after my first story. And thanks to my wonderful beta Lin-z (without her I would give up writing in English).

Second: If you read "Born from Ashes" you have to know that this one will be different. It's basically Sirius' POV, a deep exploration of his relationship with Remus, Harry and Snape, full of angst and darkness. And yes, the Phoenix and his promise to Harry will be explained, but not as a main storyline. If you wanted another 5th year Hogwarts story, I'm sorry. I had this in mind for a long time, but after reading your reviews it merged with BFA and turned into a semi-sequel.

If you didn't read Born from Ashes here is a small summary/spoiler. Hopefully it'll explain some allusions (there will be few for now): The title of the 5th book was my inspiration. The Order of Phoenix was created to complete the Phoenix Enchantment, which would allow the one who did it to receive the magical power of every member of the Order and destroy Voldemort. Everyone wants Dumbledore to lead it, but he insists they can't depend on him for everything and have to choose their own leader. Harry believes that he has a connection to the Order, and overhearing Sirius and Remus discussing the phoenix feather in his wand only makes things worse. I won't describe all the Hogwarts adventures, but at the end he, Sirius and Snape become Voldemort´s prisoners, Sirius must invoke the Phoenix without proper training, Harry helps and the result is… hm… I can't explain it in two lines. Shortly: Sirius becomes the leader of the Order and Harry is happy it doesn't have to be him but he can't forget the last words of the Phoenix: "I will be waiting for you, Harry Potter."

love,
starshine