A/N: Well, I just finished the 5th Harry Potter book the other day and suddenly I had ideas for the 6th one!  I've learned over the course of my time as a fanfiction writer that if you don't write down ideas, they completely escape you.  So yeah, enjoy.  And…*Takes a deep breath* Remember Sirius Black!  His death has left me very, very sad and Bellatrix Lestrange must DIE!

Harry Potter and the Mystery of the Veil

Year 6 at Hogwarts

Chapter One: The First of the Casualties, and Slight Closure.

            On the beginning of a particularly humid day in all of Great Britain as the sun was beginning to rise, most residents of Privet Drive were still asleep in their beds.  However, one boy with messy dark hair and green eyes lay awake.  It wasn't just that his godfather was dead, it wasn't just that an evil dark wizard who wanted to kill him was on the loose, and it wasn't just that he was a bit concerned about how he'd done on his O.W.L.s that had kept the boy known as Harry Potter awake all night, though it was certainly a contribution of the three afore-mentioned topics among other things.  Certainly he'd been in better communications with the wizarding world this summer, but he still felt that this was a worse summer than the last.

At the sound of pecking on his window, Harry turned his head.  It looked like another ordinary post owl, probably with more condolences from someone he'd never met about Sirius's death.  Ever since the Death Eaters trapped in Azkaban had admitted to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge that Sirius had never really committed any crime, and it had become public how upset Harry was about his death, he'd received hundreds of letters from wizards and witches expressing their sorrow about Sirius's death.  He'd received letters from as close as just about five miles away from Privet Drive ("If you ever need anything, just come and knock!" –Yours, Elizabeth Warttog) and as far away as Japan ("If my mother would have let me, I'd have sent you some lucky statues from our temple!" –Sincerely, Koji Zumiku).  Harry sighed and got up to retrieve the letter from the owl, and prompted Hedwig to share the space in her cage to let it rest because the owl seemed to have come from Alaska according to the letter.  He threw the letter on a pile near other ones without really reading it, not being exactly keen to hear another letter somewhere along the lines of, "I'm sorry!  I thought Black was guilty, but now that I hear the real story, my loss is your loss!" because all that meant was that the person was sorry for an amazing 0.5 seconds and then went on with their life.

"Hedwig, give the other owl some room," said Harry with a slight smile on his face as the other owl tried in vain to push itself from the very edge of the cage.  Hedwig gave an indignant hoot, but complied.

"My O.W.L. results were have supposed to arrived by now," murmured Harry to himself.  And then he wondered bemusedly if maybe they couldn't arrive because of the rather steady stream of other owls dropping off condolence letters.  It actually seemed halfway plausible because many owls, upon seeing a bunch of others of their kind dropped their letters off at the front door and left.  This, of course, infuriated Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia beyond belief because it seemed the neighbors were starting to whisper some awfully ugly theories about why around 75 letters on a slow day and up to 150 letters on a busy day were on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive every morning.  Harry could have easily papered his room three times over with the letters and envelopes if he'd wanted to.

As he heard another knock on the window, he turned and expected to see another post owl.  But what he saw instead were four people on broomsticks.  One of them, he knew, was Nymphadora Tonks, the daughter of Sirius's cousin, but he had no clue who the other three-a woman slightly younger than Tonks with dark brown thick-looking hair, a man who appeared a good five years older than Tonks with shoulder-length dirty blond hair in a loose ponytail and a short beard and a girl of about six to eight with the same shade of hair as the man pulled in a tight, high ponytail-were.  He opened up the window when Tonks began to wave rapidly at him and watched them come into his room.

The man looked apprehensive as they got in, eying everything in the room including Harry himself as though he thought it might explode or attack at any second.  The young girl was looking around with a grin on her face as though she'd just been given a cartload of presents.  The dark brown haired woman was giving Harry a kind smile and Tonks was shuffling for something in the bag she had had on her back.  She finally smiled and gave Harry a sheet of folded paper.

"Those are your O.W.L. results, Harry!" she told him winking, and then when the brown haired woman gave her a raised eyebrow look, she added, "Hope you don't mind I gave them a glance…it's not as though you had any sort of horrible grade I could go around gossiping about to people except those…eh…two.  Oh, and here's a Daily Prophet one of those owls outside was trying to deliver."

Harry eagerly opened his O.W.L. result and looked down at what it read:

Potter, Harry

Gryffindor

Head of House: Minerva McGonagall

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

5th Year O.W.L. Results

Dear Mr. Potter,

     Congratulations on completing your 5th year Ordinary Wizarding Levels (O.W.L.s) enclosed you will find the subject, who taught it the year you look your examination, and your grade (O=Outstanding, E=Exceeds Expectations, A=Average, P=Poor, D=Dreadful, T=Terrible).

Transfiguration-Minerva McGonagall: O

Charms-Filius Flitwick: E

Potions-Severus Snape: O (Harry wondered if Snape was now committing suicide).

Defense Against the Dark Arts-Dolores Umbridge: O

Divination-Sibyll Trelawney/Firenze: D (Harry didn't think that was overly shocking, as bad a grade as it was).

Herbology-Carrie Sprout: E

Astronomy-Amalthea Sinistra: A

Care of Magical Creatures-Rubeus Hagrid/Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank: O

History of Magic-Bernard Binns: T (Even worse than Divination?  Harry was surprised).

Based on your O.W.L. results, this is a list of subjects (and those who will teach them) that you will take upon returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the first of September in this year of 1996:

N.E.W.T. Level Potions (Severus Snape)

N.E.W.T. Level Transfiguration (Minerva McGonagall)

N.E.W.T. Level Charms (Filius Flitwick)

N.E.W.T. Level Defense Against the Dark Arts (Remus Lupin)

N.E.W.T. Level Herbology (Carrie Sprout)

N.E.W.T. Level Astronomy (Amalthea Sinistra)

N.E.W.T. Level Care of Magical Creature (Rubeus Hagrid)

O.W.L.s Total: 7

Sincerely,

Edmund Edugon

Edmund Edugon, Head of the Department of Education

            Harry looked at his results with immense relief.  He was happy to finally be dropping History of Magic (He also wondered who else besides Hermione in their right mind would want to pass) and Divination.  He was taking all the classes necessary to be an Auror, and not even the thought of being locked up with Snape for another two years could deter him from his jubilation.  Then he suddenly remembered that three complete strangers were standing in his room, "Uh…Tonks, who are these other people?"

"Oh yeah!  I haven't introduced you yet, have I?  Makes me feel real stupid!" she said with a grin, "Well, the person next to me," she gestured to the woman with dark brown hair, "is my younger sister, Rhonda.  The man is Darius, and the little girl is his daughter, Marcy."

"And if you were only bringing me my results and the Daily Prophet, why are they here?  I've been writing to let Moody know I'm ok," replied Harry.

"Daddy, daddy!" cried Marcy, "Look at Harry Potter's owl!" she pointed to Hedwig, "I want Harry Potter's owl, daddy!  Can I have his owl?" she asked.

"I'll get you your own owl later if you're good," said Darius.

"But I want Harry Potter's owl!" wailed Marcy.

"Don't mind her," Rhonda whispered to Harry, "her mum died giving birth to her and because of that, Darius has spoiled her rotten.  This is actually the best she's behaved the entire trip." Harry instantly felt sympathy for the group if they'd really had to listen to Marcy's whining the whole way.

"But…why are they here?" Harry asked Tonks again, "It can't really have been that dangerous to bring me my results by yourself?"

Tonks sighed, "Well, Harry, I know how close you and Sirius were," Harry felt a sudden new wave of pain at the mention of his godfather's name, "and I thought that maybe I should bring the only surviving relatives he had left besides me and my aunts," and then, when Marcy started off on how she wanted to jump on Harry's bed to see how comfy it was, Tonks added, "I'm beginning to think I should have just brought Rhonda.  Darius and Marcy are related from his mum's side and I've actually never really met them before now." Harry wished Tonks had spared the trouble of seeing what they were like before they'd been dragged (No doubt metaphorically kicking and screaming) into his room.

"…and if I can't have his owl, or jump on his bed, or look at his Firebolt, or look at that scrapbook he has, what can I do?" simpered Marcy to her father.

"You can be good for daddy and he'll get you an owl, a Firebolt, a new bed, and a scrapbook later," hissed Darius, "and pretend you know good, positive things about a dead distant relative named Sirius Black!" he said, obviously thinking that Harry was near-deaf or something.

"Well no one is making you stay," snapped Harry loudly, being very annoyed with Darius and his spoiled daughter.

Darius gave him a cold, cool stare, "Then we'll go if we're not appreciated," he stuck his nose into the air and seemed to expect Harry to start groveling and beg him to stay.

"You do that because I'm having enough trouble this summer without stuck-up snots acting like they're doing me some huge favor by "gracing" me with their presence!" yelled Harry.

"Come then, Marcy," said Darius, putting his daughter gently on her broomstick and getting on his own, "We don't have time for naïve, know-it-all, temper-tantrum-throwing children."

"Then I'm surprised you have time for your daughter!" retaliated Harry, wanting desperately to get an excuse to throttle Darius before he left.

Darius simply stuck his nose in the air and took off.  Marcy stopped to stick out her tongue at Harry before she too left.

Harry took a few deep breaths and attempted to compose himself before he talked with Tonks or Rhonda.  His hands were clenched at his side and shaking.  He wanted Sirius back!  He didn't want Sirius's mum's stuck up family!  He didn't even want Rhonda or Tonks bothering him if they couldn't stop to figure out that he'd have no desire to meet with people like that that'd never even known Sirius in the first place!  He just wanted to be alone again, to give Moody his letters confirming that he was fine, to read Ron and Hermione's letters and write short, but adequate replies back, he wanted to discover something about the damned veil that had killed Sirius in peace!  The only difference a visit from Rhonda and Tonks had from the condolence letters was that the words "I'm sorry" were said in person and these two had actually slightly known Sirius.

"I told you!" snapped Rhonda to her sister, "I mean, it's just scraping over a month since his death!  I haven't seen him since a few weeks before he was sent to Azkaban and I was upset to the point of moping until just recently!"

"Sorry!  I didn't think-maybe I wasn't thinking-I was just-" Tonks seemed rather upset and unsure of how to present her case.

"It's alright," murmured Harry softly, figuring it was better to reconcile for this ugly incident now rather than have bitter fights about it later.

"Would you rather we just leave after we give you the other news we needed to bring then?" asked Tonks softly.  Harry nodded mutely.

"See?  I kept telling you that you need to give people a good sized space of breathing room when someone they were extremely close to dies in such a shocking way…" Rhonda was muttering to Tonks.  Harry wondered from the look on Tonks's face whether she was listening or not.

If she was listening, she didn't give any indication and moved straight on to her other message for Harry, "A week from now Remus is coming to take you to the Order's Headquarters," Harry knew "headquarters" meant Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Sirius's home, "It would be really helpful if you were ready when he came to avoid too much confrontation between him and your muggle relatives," Harry nodded slowly, and then, smiling a bit sadly Tonks added, "See you then Harry…I'm sorry, really."

"It told you, it's alright," replied Harry, trying to even give her a ghost of a smile back.

And then the two sisters mounted their broomsticks and took off into the early morning sun.  Harry threw himself down his bed, not at all sure how he felt about the recent turn of events.  On one hand, he was glad he was going to be leaving Privet Drive because Dudley and Uncle Vernon were becoming unbearable with their accusations and excuses to give Harry a punishment that was harsh, but not so significant that he felt he should complain to the Order, and Aunt Petunia was actually pretty much keeping her nose out of it, but kept throwing Harry odd looks that he couldn't quite pin a particular emotion on.

On the other hand, he couldn't help but flinch thinking of the pain that seeing Number Twelve Grimmauld Place would bring.  It would be hard to think that it had just been months ago in December that he had celebrated Christmas there with Sirius, Hermione and the Weasleys.  He feared that too much time spent there would have him reduced to a Kreacher-like state: The others there would find him in Sirius's room clinging pitifully to a pair of Sirius's old trousers as he muttered to himself, though, claiming to whoever might walk in that he was talking with Sirius.  He decided to ponder all of this later and see what was in the Daily Prophet today, but seconds later wished that he hadn't as he saw what was emblazoned on the front page.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's First Attack!  The shocking death of the Macmillans!

By Prophet Reporter Richard Leon

The Wizarding community was in shock yesterday over the first attack by feared dark Wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!  Up until last June, our Ministry had denied his return to power, despite the pleas of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.  Even after the official statement of his return by Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge and the capture of alleged Death Eaters (Including well-respected member of society, Lucius Malfoy-Turn to page nine for his family's side of the argument) some people refused that the horrible wizard had truly returned, but after what happened last night, none can deny themselves any further: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back in power, and he has begun to kill again.  Last night, he and his remaining Death Eaters stormed into the house of Ministry Official Lawrence Macmillan 40, and killed him, his wife, Rochelle Macmillan, 39, their son Ernie, 16, and daughter Amanda, 10.  Neighbors were alarmed when they saw the feared Dark Mark above the Macmillans' house and saw "a suspicious-looking bunch of people walk happily out the front door, like Christmas had come early," according to neighbor Mueller Hoffman, 52.  There is no doubt that a combination of the illegal curses, Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra were used to kill the Macmillans, however, the medi-wizards and witches will have the conclusive autopsy results tomorrow evening.

Harry couldn't believe it.  Surely…surely Ernie Macmillan couldn't really be dead?  Surely this was some sort of sick joke, and once you turned to the back page, the editors would fess up to an early April Fools joke.  Surely when he came back to Hogwarts on September 1st, Ernie would come striding up to everyone laughing about the Prophet's joke.  But there was no explanation on the back, and in the pit of his stomach, Harry knew that Ernie and his family were really gone.  Just like Sirius.  He balled up his fists and threw the paper onto the floor.  What was the point of ever connecting with anyone?! They were all going to die like Sirius had!  They were all going to die because they were on his side, against Voldemort!  Harry thought angrily that he shouldn't even come out of his room when Lupin came to get him, because eventually, Lupin would probably be killed too!

'I'll be looking into the face of a dead man walking!  And if it's not Voldemort, or Wormtail, or anyone of those other miserable Death Eaters, the Ministry will start up some crazy anti-werewolf campaign and demand that they all be killed, and werewolves will be in the same situation as the giants!  In fact, if I want to talk with anyone, I should probably stroll over to Malfoy Manor and have a nice chat with Draco Malfoy!  At least the chances of him kicking the bucket because of Voldemort are slim to none!'

And with these thoughts on his mind, the sleepiness Harry had been suppressing all night got to him and he slowly closed his eyes, only to be unceremoniously waken three and a half hours later by Uncle Vernon shouting in his ear to come and fix breakfast.

As the week dragged on, Harry found that the reports given by the Prophet didn't improve.  Fifteen muggles who reported seeing oddly dressed people who perfectly matched the description of Voldemort and his Death Eaters all turned up dead, more wizarding families, the Akerleys and the Quirkes (both of whom, Harry knew, had children who would have been third year Ravenclaws had they lived), and the Abercrombies (whose son, Euan, would have been a second year Gryffindor) were all dead now, and even the muggle news was starting to pick up on all the strange killings.  The only good news was that Cornelius Fudge's official pardon of Sirius for all the crimes he was accused of committing would happen at Hogwarts on Harry's first night back.

'But it seems so unfair that now that Sirius is finally being pardoned, he isn't alive to enjoy his freedom!' Thought Harry furiously as soon as he read the article about it.  He felt what they were doing would be like giving someone who'd been in poverty their entire life a large sum of cash right after they snuffed it.  He wondered what the point of pardoning someone after they'd died was.  The only benefit Harry could see was that Sirius wouldn't go down in history as having committed the horrible crime he'd been convicted of, and that it would show what idiots the vast majority of the Ministry had been.

And on the night before Lupin's arrival, as Harry frantically began to pack, he could have sworn he heard a little voice in his head telling him to be grateful for the present, and not grieve over the past, or worry about the future.  It sounded suspiciously like Sirius's voice.  Harry was certain that hearing voices was the first sign of insanity, but he listened to the voice's words anyway.

'Come on Harry, you've got a lot to be thankful for right now!  Ron and his family haven't been killed, and neither have Hermione or hers.  Some Death Eaters are locked up, however temporarily, your safe, and whether Remus will be alive two or twenty years from now is moot point because right now he's healthy and in no more peril than you are.  And I did just say you were safe.  I know you have a lot on your shoulders, but don't lock yourself away from everyone, that just makes it worse,' It was sounding A LOT like Sirius's voice now, but Harry would have been much more comforted if he could have actually seen his godfather to confirm that, 'And it's alright to be upset over last June, but not to this degree.  Tell someone how your feeling, ok?'

'Why can't I just tell you?' Harry asked Sirius/The Voice.

'Because I'm not exactly supposed to be doing this and the longer I do, the more chance I get in a bunch of trouble.  Back to what I was saying, once you accept the past you can move on to the future, and it would be better if you do that, Harry.  I'm not going to get any deader if my death stops being your every other thought.  So, don't shun Remus, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, or anyone else.  I wanna see good things from up here!' there seemed to be a slight pause, as though Sirius's voice was pondering what to say, 'Oh, and tell old Snivellus that the 'Let go of the past' thing applies to him too.  He's gotta stop seeing people for what they were in 1975, yeesh.  And your parents send their love, and all the people from your school who've been killed wanted to contact you individually to tell you to kill Voldemort, but I thought I'd just do it all here.'

'How come my parents can't tell me themselves?' Asked Harry, the memory of Snape's that he'd seen in the Pensieve still burned into his mind.

'Well, this mysterious, disembodied voice contact thing seems to work better on people who've just died and wears off on those who've been here longer.  Mmm…I think someone's getting suspicious about what I'm doing, need to wrap this up!  Anyway Harry, I'm sorry that I'm dead, and I want you to know that even if I'm dead, I still support you and love you like a son.  I need to go, bye!'

'Wait!  Sirius!  I've still got some questions left!  SIRIUS!' Harry shouted mentally, but a reply never came and in his stomach, Harry felt like he was losing Sirius all over again.  Still, it was slightly comforting to know that Sirius, his parents, and everyone from school who'd died were watching over him and supporting him, but Harry couldn't help feeling angry and sad again.  He threw the rest of his school materials furiously into his trunk, not caring that a few of his potion supplies had probably been cracked, completely broken, or smushed under the weight of his other things.  He knew he should do like Sirius said: Tell someone how he felt about all of this.  But they probably all knew what a foul mood he was in and would ask where this sudden insight came from.

'And how am I supposed to tell them I heard Sirius's voice and he told me to?  They'll admit me to St. Mungo's and have my head examined before I can say anything else!  And tell Snape to drop his hatred of my father and his friends because that was 1975 and this is now?  Ha!  Maybe I will, just to see his reaction.' Harry didn't know whether he should laugh at what Snape would probably do, or fear for his life. 

While he was pondering this, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't informed the Dursleys that Professor Lupin was coming to pick him up tomorrow.  Though, if his clothes were as shabby as they regularly were, Harry was certain that months of preparation wouldn't have readied the Dursleys for his appearance.  But regardless he went down to tell them anyway.

The three of them were huddled around the TV watching the news.  Uncle Vernon saw Harry and threw him a look that said he was clearly not welcome, and probably thought that Harry had come down to watch the news, because that's what he'd tried to do all last summer, "What do you want, boy?"

"Well, tomorrow Professor Lupin-he'll be teaching at Hog…er, my school-is coming to pick me up for it," said Harry nervously, hoping they wouldn't overreact too much.

Aunt Petunia eyed him shiftily, "I thought that term of yours didn't start until September 1st," she finished, clearly suspicious.

Harry was shocked.  Since when did Aunt Petunia pay attention to those kinds of things?  But he decided it wouldn't be wise to point out, so he replied, "Well, they're taking me early because, see…" Harry was at a loss for words.  Why did they want him to come to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place when he was safe while with blood relatives and it was only going to be July 21st?  But he knew he needed a reason otherwise he wouldn't be going, "They uh…that's to say, the members of the Order of the Phoenix, don't want your lives endangered because you're housing me," Harry finished triumphantly.

"Let him go," Grunted Uncle Vernon.

But Aunt Petunia still looked suspicious, "Who are the 'Order of the Phoenix'?" she demanded.

"They're a group that stands against Voldemort."

"And why are you going with them?  You don't seem like you could stand against a fluffy bunny rabbit," laughed Dudley.

"Well, they don't want your," Harry gave a cough that sounded a bit like a snicker, "precious lives endangered and-" he stopped.  He didn't really want to tell the Dursleys about the prophecy.

"And what, boy?" demanded Uncle Vernon.

"Nothing," Harry said, feigning innocence.

"I asked you and what?!" snapped Uncle Vernon, clearly annoyed.

"It's none of your business.  It's concerning me anyway, so what would you care?" asked Harry causally.

"AND WHAT?!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

"Maybe I just accidentally said 'and'.  Maybe it doesn't mean anything," said Harry shrugging.

Uncle Vernon grabbed him and began shaking him, "TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY!" he shouted, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.

"Fine!  The whole world is doomed because a prophecy said I'm the only one who can defeat Voldemort!  Are you happy now?!" snarled Harry.

He was expecting the Dursleys to laugh him off, or not care that the world's fate rested with him as long as they were safe.  He would have been astonished if they'd looked mildly worried, so he certainly wasn't expecting the silence that ensnared the room after he finished speaking.  Dudley was looking at him with a mixture of awe and slight anger that if he couldn't kill someone, then everyone was screwed over.  Aunt Petunia was shaking and Uncle Vernon was trying calm her down, though he looked like he needed calming down himself.

"I just thought I'd let you know that Professor Lupin was coming," murmured Harry, slowly retreating back to his room.

The next day seemed to drag on forever as Harry waited for Professor Lupin's arrival.  He was glad someone familiar would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and not a new person who could have had the potential to be worse than Dolores Umbridge ("The Hogwarts High Inquisitor") had been.  On the day of the arrival though, Harry was more desperate than ever to get away from Privet Drive.  After last night's conversation, the Dursleys were acting strange, even for them.  They avoided eye contact, didn't expect Harry to get them coffee, or fry the eggs for breakfast, and didn't hand him any lists of chores to be completed before he was allowed to go with Professor Lupin. 

In fact, Harry might as well have not been there at all.  He suspected the only reason they even gave him breakfast was so he wouldn't complain to anyone about his treatment.  In a way, the "silent treatment" was comforting, but in a more overpowering way, it was just creepy.  The Dursleys didn't even talk among themselves, as they usually did when they were busy trying to pretend Harry didn't exist.  He walked back up to his room after breakfast and leaned down to see if he could hear a conversation.  There was none.  This just added to the feeling of oddness.  Even when Harry wasn't around, they kept their silence.

'Please have an excuse to come early, Lupin!  I never thought I'd say this, but I can't bare the Dursleys NOT talking!'

But Lupin didn't come early, so Harry busied himself thinking of the topics he'd discuss with Lupin once he arrived, and with Ron and Hermione once he got to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.  He even got so bored, he began to imagine what it would be like to teach at Hogwarts, and imagined how each teacher came up with lesson plans (Professor Snape's consisted of "Tell the students about the wonders of potions, be sure to use and emphasize the words 'softly' and 'simmering' when speaking about cauldrons.  Write the directions to a new potion on the board every morning.  Be a general git, pain-in-the-arse, and bear down on unfavored students, especially Harry Potter.  Rinse.  Repeat").

Before Harry knew it, it was six o' clock in the evening, 'I guess I passed time pretty well, considering the circumstances,' he thought.

Harry looked out the window for a few moments, and then  realized (Once he heard Aunt Petunia screech, breaking the silence that Harry was beginning to think meant that the Dursleys had joined up with an "End-of-the-World" cult and been given a vow of silence.) that Professor Lupin had arrived by floo powder.  He ran down the stairs, only to see that Professor Lupin wasn't alone.  He was accompanied by one of Harry's least favorite people in the world: The sallow skinned, greasy-haired, hook-nosed Potions Master and head of Slytherin, Professor Severus Snape.