Thanks, once again, to those who have reviewed. I'm off on vacation for a
week, so the remaining two chapters will be posted upon my return!
Early Autumn Vignettes
Time crawled.
Harry read the Daily Prophet, wondering about the occasional stories of unexplained assaults.
Remus read reports and discussed with Order members the significance of a series of random attacks on wizards, both pure blood and mixed.
Sirius constructed carefully reasoned treatises in his head on which was worse: the isolation of his room or the absolute silence.
Time slowly slipped away. The heat of July and August gave way to the clear skies of September.
Harry's trip on the Hogwarts Express back to school made him feel as if it had been years since he'd been on that train.
Finally having some spare time, Remus went with several other trusted Order members to fortify The Burrow for the Weasleys. They spent the better part of a week bolstering the building's defenses. Remus had the feeling that prolonged exposure to 12 Grimmauld Place was finally making Molly crack. He understood and he pitied her.
Sirius wished he had musical skills. Then at least he could occupy his time turning his life into "The Ballad of Sirius Black."
Hours of days invariably darkened into eons of night.
Nightmares. Again and again, throat aching from his smothered screams, he strained against the strong grip and saw the slow, graceful fall through the veil.
Alone in his bed, he tossed restlessly through the interminable hours before dawn, aching for the warm presence of another, for the feel of long, skilled fingers drifting across his body.
Idle thoughts circled like vultures, and he wondered how much of his sanity he'd still have when he crossed back through the veil.
Hogwarts no longer felt quite safe, Harry thought. Students still laughed and joked, but there was an air of desperation, as if they willfully pulled blinders over their eyes, denying that their childhood monsters had already crawled out from under their beds.
They stood on the verge of a precipice, as they had some twenty years ago. Remus knew the killings would soon start, along with the fear and suspicion. He wasn't sure if he'd escape or if, this time, he'd fall to his death. The uncertainty, the sick anticipation would be so much easier to bear, if only he was not alone.
Sitting in limbo, Sirius wondered at how far their lives had moved forward. Surely they hadn't forgotten him. Or, had the powers controlling his own fate forgotten that he was locked in this room? Cell?
Harry's Occlumency lessons continued under the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore. Their first meeting had been strained, but Harry discovered that if he concentrated on his lesson and shut off any dialog about himself, it became much easier. Dumbledore noticed and silently mourned the change that Harry's path in life had forced on him.
Remus shivered. The raw, damp night felt much more like November than early October. He hated spending hours on reconnaissance, especially when he could be in a snug be at Hogwarts or comfortable inn in France, but it was his turn. And it was better than sleeping alone.
Sirius saw pieces of his life in front of him, as if a film played intermittent scenes on the blank walls. The good scenes made him smile, but he found himself paying more attention to his misdeeds. He urged himself not to make the wrong choice, but, time and again, he did.
Quidditch. Fast and sure, under an azure sky. Instinct and reaction. The pleasure of losing himself in speed and motion and his own pure reflexes.
The foul potion. He swallowed it without a flicker of distaste to reveal his thoughts. "Thank you, Severus," was all he said before he rose to go to his room - their room - for his transformation, where Moony would spend the night keening for the loss of Padfoot.
Silence. The deadened silence would surely drive him mad.
"Harry, you're hardly blocking me at all," the Headmaster said, seeing the picture in Harry's mind as bright and clear as when it first happened. Sirius fell gracefully through the veil. "It's four months to the day," Harry replied.
Why was he standing here knocking on this door? What difference could he possibly make? He had to try. It was a way to attempt to make amends for his hostility, his anger. "Professor Lupin!" Percy Weasley exclaimed. Without waiting for an invitation, Remus entered the flat. Gravely regarding the younger man he said, "I want to talk to you about your parents."
Sirius sifted through his memories. He had done some horrible things in his life. Some had been inadvertent, but others had been deliberate. Quite viciously deliberate. It wasn't too late to try to set some of those wrongs to right, was it?
For the thousandth time, he pulled the mirror out. Its shards had repaired seamlessly. It flashed brightly. It was useless.
The trees of the Forbidden Forest preened, gloriously radiant in the colors of autumn. He had fallen in love in autumn, so many years ago, not with colors, but with Black. And now, in autumn, his dark lover would return. Wouldn't he?
Loyalty, courage, tenacious inner strength, and a deep, boundless love for some. Ruthlessness, anger, an unwillingness to forgive, and the cold ability to wield any of them like a sword against those he hated. Never had he seen so clearly into the flawed, cracked diamonds of his heart and soul.
Hope
Harry trudged through the halls on his way to Albus Dumbledore's office for his Occlumency lesson. Tomorrow was Halloween and Harry hadn't come up with a plausible excuse for not attending Hogwarts' Halloween party. Simply telling his friends he didn't want to go would make them feel compelled to stay behind with him, which wasn't fair to them. Or, they'd badger and hound him until he agreed to go, which wasn't fair to him.
Deliberately getting detention wouldn't work, either, because the Professors attended the party. Any assigned detentions wouldn't start until the following night. He might be forced to use one of his Weasely Skiving Snacks to make himself ill. The box had been sitting in his trunk, untouched, since school started. Maybe Ron and Hermione wouldn't realize that he'd swallowed one.
Harry's glum thoughts flew out of his head when he saw who sat with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. A bright smile bloomed as he affectionately greeted Remus Lupin. Neither adult commented on it, but both knew it was now a seldom-seen expression.
"Please sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry did just that, glancing between them, sensing an undercurrent of anticipation and excitement. Remus practically vibrated with barely contained emotions.
Then Harry received the biggest surprise of his life. More astounding than discovering he had a natural talent for Quidditch. More overwhelming than realizing he was a wizard. Speechless with shock, he sat there completely numb. Surely, they meant what they told him. This wasn't some sick Halloween joke. But, this. Things like this didn't happen. People didn't come back to life.
Harry's eyes were blank in his impassive face as his gaze flitted from one man to the other. Dumbledore, radiating patient kindness, simply waited for Harry's questions to begin. Remus remained outwardly calm, but now Harry understood the whirlwind of emotions that buffeted him inside.
Choosing his words carefully, Harry spoke. "So what you're telling me is that this ancient pact was called into play, and Sirius' family requested that he be given his life back?"
A dismissive sniff came from Harry's left.
"Phineas, do you have something to say?" Albus enquired politely.
The portrait's fine features wrinkled into a frown. "Idiot boy! You've only grasped part of what you've been told! Typical student behavior. Why bother listening to and learning from your elders? After all, what does it matter if you get the details wrong?"
Harry shot out of his chair, his skin flushed with sudden anger. He addressed the supercilious ex-Headmaster in a voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Anything to do with Sirius matters to me! He matters to me! A damn sight more than he ever mattered to his family!"
A flash of something akin to approval flickered across the portrait's face as Phineas picked non-existent lint off his sleeve. Lazily, he said, "As it happens, young man, *I* voted in favor of granting Sirius his life back." His smile was chilly. "It's not my fault that most of the rest of the Blacks, including his own parents, abhor your godfather."
Harry glowered. "I bet you did that just because you didn't want the family name to die out. Not because you care one bit about Sirius."
"Perhaps you're smarter than I thought," Phineas mused. "Or maybe you're starting to grow up. It's about time."
Dumbledore interrupted as Harry drew breath to retort. "Thank you for your comments, Phineas. But, now, we must make some plans that, I'm sure, are of no interest to you."
"Fine." Phineas bit off the word like teeth severing bone. "I know when I've been dismissed." And his features became immobile.
Harry was still trying to come to terms with the news they had given him, as Dumbledore talked about dusk and portkeys and stone circles. Sirius was coming back. Alive. Harry hardly dared to believe that in just over twenty- four hours, he'd be standing somewhere in the Lake District waiting to greet his godfather. His living godfather. He'd again hear that bark of a laugh and see a smile warm the wasted face. And, maybe this time the smile wouldn't be shadowed with pain and regret. Maybe this one time it would light up like a Christmas tree. Like showers of stars and firelight on crystal.
But, then the worm suddenly turned. "You've known about this for a while, haven't you," Harry said flatly. He spoke to both of them, but his eyes rested on Remus.
And nodding, Remus answered him evenly, although he saw the knowledge of betrayal in Harry's face. "We've known for several months. Keep in mind that Sirius is not a free man. Officially, he is still considered a fugitive mass murderer by the Ministry, since they have no proof of his innocence and no evidence of his death. So, he is still at risk from his own government. The Death Eaters think he's dead. But they would do everything in their power to use him as bait to get you, if they discovered that he was alive. Sirius' greatest protection now is that so few people will know he has returned."
"Do they really think I'd fall into that trap again?"
Remus shrugged. "It worked for them once, even though their mission was ultimately thwarted. They might very well try again."
"And, once Sirius is back," Dumbledore added, "I have an assignment for him that will require the utmost secrecy. I'm sorry, Harry. We couldn't risk telling you until you became a powerful enough Occlumens to hide that knowledge within yourself, should Voldemort come prying."
Harry digested this for several moments. "And you think I'm powerful enough now?"
"You're very strong, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "You're not quite where I'd like you to be, but you're very, very close. Plus, you have the ability to compartmentalize your mind. The things you feel strongest about, your greatest fears and your deepest attachments, are the things I have the most trouble seeing. This revelation about Sirius can also be hidden behind those walls, thus helping to keep him safe."
A determined frown wrinkled the black brows. "I won't tell a soul about this, not even Ron or Hermione. I caused Sirius' death once. It's not going to happen again. Not if I can help it."
Remus was about to argue with Harry about his self-blame when Dumbledore suddenly turned towards Harry and impaled the boy with a steely gaze.
Harry instantly snapped into defense mode, quicker even than Sirius turning into Padfoot. Fascinated, Remus watched Dumbledore try to probe into Harry's mind while Harry sought to bar his entrance.
And, just as suddenly, the contact between them ceased. Dumbledore smiled. "Very good, Mr. Potter."
Harry grinned.
Through the Veil, Again
A strange sort of tranquility often settled over Sirius. The panic was always there, in the shadows of his mind where nightmares bred with his foulest memories. The satanic spawn of that poisonous union howled with glee when trying to take him over, subjugating his thoughts and his will, and shattering his sense of self. He controlled it now, for the most part, although sometimes he felt that if he had to spend one moment more in complete isolation he'd start screaming until his throat bled.
He was so tired of being alone. The solitude hadn't gradually numbed his feelings like ice freezing his skin. No, it burned with a steady, dull, gray flame, eating away at his heart. It dripped acid onto his soul, peeling away layer upon layer of feeling. If only someone would touch him. If he could only hear another voice. A caress or a kick to the groin. It didn't matter which one. A murmured endearment or a bellowed curse. Either one would do.
Sometimes his thoughts drifted in crazy kaleidoscopic patterns. Forms and faces hovered and melded into one another. Remus floated before him just out of reach, his lips forming silent words. And as Sirius strained to hear him, the face would transform into his father. A younger version, the father of his earliest days, his voice ringing with laughter. Sirius smiled, remembering those years when they had been happy with each other. But, as his hand reached out to touch the man who had once loved him so much, the handsome face would twist into rage and revulsion, the soundless words spewing forth with an unfelt spray of spittle. And Sirius despaired, knowing that he'd prefer his father's shouted scorn to the cloak of silence that surrounded him. He'd rather be spat upon than feel nothing.
He slumped motionless in the solitary chair and stared at his feet. Right now his entire existence had been stripped down to a pair of black boots against a colorless floor. He stared unblinking, seeing every single grain of the leather. He started counting each miniscule dot. Maybe that's how the mind works, he pondered. Constantly trying to organize, sum up, arrange, put boundaries around whatever it observes in a delusional attempt to make sense out of whatever is presented to it. Even something as mundane as leather.
"It is time for you to return."
It took a few seconds for him to realize he was not talking to himself. Almost unwillingly, he dragged his eyes away from his feet. Standing in front of him was the Guardian, the smooth face giving nothing away.
"It's time?" He said uncertainly, trying the words on for size, seeing if they made any sense.
"Yes. I am here to escort you to the veil, where you will pass back into the living world."
"I'm going back? Now?"
The Guardian beckoned with a raised arm and smiled. "Come."
The colorless room vanished, replaced by darkness. Then a gentle wind blew, stirring his clothing and teasing strands of his hair. He felt a length of cloth brush over his face.
The air was cool and, in a dizzying rush, his senses returned to him. He smelled the outdoors, earth and plants and the pungent tang of fallen leaves. He felt a light breeze against his skin and heard it whisper through the grass. A bird called in the distance.
And, opening his eyes, he saw the evening sky stretched above him. The sun was already far below the horizon and its reflected light barely lingered, as the stars revealed themselves against the deep blue of the heavens.
Slowly Sirius sat up, not quite ready to believe that he was again on earth even though he felt the firm ground beneath him and the damp grass under his hands. He sat in the middle of a circle of stones, their rounded hulks crowning a hill. Cautiously he rose to his feet, fearful of losing this glorious sight, this breathtaking night.
And, then he heard someone calling his name; an echo of the last voice he had heard after Bellatrix had sent him through the veil. He spun around. People ran towards him, and his knees nearly buckled when he realized who they were.
TBC
Early Autumn Vignettes
Time crawled.
Harry read the Daily Prophet, wondering about the occasional stories of unexplained assaults.
Remus read reports and discussed with Order members the significance of a series of random attacks on wizards, both pure blood and mixed.
Sirius constructed carefully reasoned treatises in his head on which was worse: the isolation of his room or the absolute silence.
Time slowly slipped away. The heat of July and August gave way to the clear skies of September.
Harry's trip on the Hogwarts Express back to school made him feel as if it had been years since he'd been on that train.
Finally having some spare time, Remus went with several other trusted Order members to fortify The Burrow for the Weasleys. They spent the better part of a week bolstering the building's defenses. Remus had the feeling that prolonged exposure to 12 Grimmauld Place was finally making Molly crack. He understood and he pitied her.
Sirius wished he had musical skills. Then at least he could occupy his time turning his life into "The Ballad of Sirius Black."
Hours of days invariably darkened into eons of night.
Nightmares. Again and again, throat aching from his smothered screams, he strained against the strong grip and saw the slow, graceful fall through the veil.
Alone in his bed, he tossed restlessly through the interminable hours before dawn, aching for the warm presence of another, for the feel of long, skilled fingers drifting across his body.
Idle thoughts circled like vultures, and he wondered how much of his sanity he'd still have when he crossed back through the veil.
Hogwarts no longer felt quite safe, Harry thought. Students still laughed and joked, but there was an air of desperation, as if they willfully pulled blinders over their eyes, denying that their childhood monsters had already crawled out from under their beds.
They stood on the verge of a precipice, as they had some twenty years ago. Remus knew the killings would soon start, along with the fear and suspicion. He wasn't sure if he'd escape or if, this time, he'd fall to his death. The uncertainty, the sick anticipation would be so much easier to bear, if only he was not alone.
Sitting in limbo, Sirius wondered at how far their lives had moved forward. Surely they hadn't forgotten him. Or, had the powers controlling his own fate forgotten that he was locked in this room? Cell?
Harry's Occlumency lessons continued under the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore. Their first meeting had been strained, but Harry discovered that if he concentrated on his lesson and shut off any dialog about himself, it became much easier. Dumbledore noticed and silently mourned the change that Harry's path in life had forced on him.
Remus shivered. The raw, damp night felt much more like November than early October. He hated spending hours on reconnaissance, especially when he could be in a snug be at Hogwarts or comfortable inn in France, but it was his turn. And it was better than sleeping alone.
Sirius saw pieces of his life in front of him, as if a film played intermittent scenes on the blank walls. The good scenes made him smile, but he found himself paying more attention to his misdeeds. He urged himself not to make the wrong choice, but, time and again, he did.
Quidditch. Fast and sure, under an azure sky. Instinct and reaction. The pleasure of losing himself in speed and motion and his own pure reflexes.
The foul potion. He swallowed it without a flicker of distaste to reveal his thoughts. "Thank you, Severus," was all he said before he rose to go to his room - their room - for his transformation, where Moony would spend the night keening for the loss of Padfoot.
Silence. The deadened silence would surely drive him mad.
"Harry, you're hardly blocking me at all," the Headmaster said, seeing the picture in Harry's mind as bright and clear as when it first happened. Sirius fell gracefully through the veil. "It's four months to the day," Harry replied.
Why was he standing here knocking on this door? What difference could he possibly make? He had to try. It was a way to attempt to make amends for his hostility, his anger. "Professor Lupin!" Percy Weasley exclaimed. Without waiting for an invitation, Remus entered the flat. Gravely regarding the younger man he said, "I want to talk to you about your parents."
Sirius sifted through his memories. He had done some horrible things in his life. Some had been inadvertent, but others had been deliberate. Quite viciously deliberate. It wasn't too late to try to set some of those wrongs to right, was it?
For the thousandth time, he pulled the mirror out. Its shards had repaired seamlessly. It flashed brightly. It was useless.
The trees of the Forbidden Forest preened, gloriously radiant in the colors of autumn. He had fallen in love in autumn, so many years ago, not with colors, but with Black. And now, in autumn, his dark lover would return. Wouldn't he?
Loyalty, courage, tenacious inner strength, and a deep, boundless love for some. Ruthlessness, anger, an unwillingness to forgive, and the cold ability to wield any of them like a sword against those he hated. Never had he seen so clearly into the flawed, cracked diamonds of his heart and soul.
Hope
Harry trudged through the halls on his way to Albus Dumbledore's office for his Occlumency lesson. Tomorrow was Halloween and Harry hadn't come up with a plausible excuse for not attending Hogwarts' Halloween party. Simply telling his friends he didn't want to go would make them feel compelled to stay behind with him, which wasn't fair to them. Or, they'd badger and hound him until he agreed to go, which wasn't fair to him.
Deliberately getting detention wouldn't work, either, because the Professors attended the party. Any assigned detentions wouldn't start until the following night. He might be forced to use one of his Weasely Skiving Snacks to make himself ill. The box had been sitting in his trunk, untouched, since school started. Maybe Ron and Hermione wouldn't realize that he'd swallowed one.
Harry's glum thoughts flew out of his head when he saw who sat with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. A bright smile bloomed as he affectionately greeted Remus Lupin. Neither adult commented on it, but both knew it was now a seldom-seen expression.
"Please sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry did just that, glancing between them, sensing an undercurrent of anticipation and excitement. Remus practically vibrated with barely contained emotions.
Then Harry received the biggest surprise of his life. More astounding than discovering he had a natural talent for Quidditch. More overwhelming than realizing he was a wizard. Speechless with shock, he sat there completely numb. Surely, they meant what they told him. This wasn't some sick Halloween joke. But, this. Things like this didn't happen. People didn't come back to life.
Harry's eyes were blank in his impassive face as his gaze flitted from one man to the other. Dumbledore, radiating patient kindness, simply waited for Harry's questions to begin. Remus remained outwardly calm, but now Harry understood the whirlwind of emotions that buffeted him inside.
Choosing his words carefully, Harry spoke. "So what you're telling me is that this ancient pact was called into play, and Sirius' family requested that he be given his life back?"
A dismissive sniff came from Harry's left.
"Phineas, do you have something to say?" Albus enquired politely.
The portrait's fine features wrinkled into a frown. "Idiot boy! You've only grasped part of what you've been told! Typical student behavior. Why bother listening to and learning from your elders? After all, what does it matter if you get the details wrong?"
Harry shot out of his chair, his skin flushed with sudden anger. He addressed the supercilious ex-Headmaster in a voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Anything to do with Sirius matters to me! He matters to me! A damn sight more than he ever mattered to his family!"
A flash of something akin to approval flickered across the portrait's face as Phineas picked non-existent lint off his sleeve. Lazily, he said, "As it happens, young man, *I* voted in favor of granting Sirius his life back." His smile was chilly. "It's not my fault that most of the rest of the Blacks, including his own parents, abhor your godfather."
Harry glowered. "I bet you did that just because you didn't want the family name to die out. Not because you care one bit about Sirius."
"Perhaps you're smarter than I thought," Phineas mused. "Or maybe you're starting to grow up. It's about time."
Dumbledore interrupted as Harry drew breath to retort. "Thank you for your comments, Phineas. But, now, we must make some plans that, I'm sure, are of no interest to you."
"Fine." Phineas bit off the word like teeth severing bone. "I know when I've been dismissed." And his features became immobile.
Harry was still trying to come to terms with the news they had given him, as Dumbledore talked about dusk and portkeys and stone circles. Sirius was coming back. Alive. Harry hardly dared to believe that in just over twenty- four hours, he'd be standing somewhere in the Lake District waiting to greet his godfather. His living godfather. He'd again hear that bark of a laugh and see a smile warm the wasted face. And, maybe this time the smile wouldn't be shadowed with pain and regret. Maybe this one time it would light up like a Christmas tree. Like showers of stars and firelight on crystal.
But, then the worm suddenly turned. "You've known about this for a while, haven't you," Harry said flatly. He spoke to both of them, but his eyes rested on Remus.
And nodding, Remus answered him evenly, although he saw the knowledge of betrayal in Harry's face. "We've known for several months. Keep in mind that Sirius is not a free man. Officially, he is still considered a fugitive mass murderer by the Ministry, since they have no proof of his innocence and no evidence of his death. So, he is still at risk from his own government. The Death Eaters think he's dead. But they would do everything in their power to use him as bait to get you, if they discovered that he was alive. Sirius' greatest protection now is that so few people will know he has returned."
"Do they really think I'd fall into that trap again?"
Remus shrugged. "It worked for them once, even though their mission was ultimately thwarted. They might very well try again."
"And, once Sirius is back," Dumbledore added, "I have an assignment for him that will require the utmost secrecy. I'm sorry, Harry. We couldn't risk telling you until you became a powerful enough Occlumens to hide that knowledge within yourself, should Voldemort come prying."
Harry digested this for several moments. "And you think I'm powerful enough now?"
"You're very strong, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "You're not quite where I'd like you to be, but you're very, very close. Plus, you have the ability to compartmentalize your mind. The things you feel strongest about, your greatest fears and your deepest attachments, are the things I have the most trouble seeing. This revelation about Sirius can also be hidden behind those walls, thus helping to keep him safe."
A determined frown wrinkled the black brows. "I won't tell a soul about this, not even Ron or Hermione. I caused Sirius' death once. It's not going to happen again. Not if I can help it."
Remus was about to argue with Harry about his self-blame when Dumbledore suddenly turned towards Harry and impaled the boy with a steely gaze.
Harry instantly snapped into defense mode, quicker even than Sirius turning into Padfoot. Fascinated, Remus watched Dumbledore try to probe into Harry's mind while Harry sought to bar his entrance.
And, just as suddenly, the contact between them ceased. Dumbledore smiled. "Very good, Mr. Potter."
Harry grinned.
Through the Veil, Again
A strange sort of tranquility often settled over Sirius. The panic was always there, in the shadows of his mind where nightmares bred with his foulest memories. The satanic spawn of that poisonous union howled with glee when trying to take him over, subjugating his thoughts and his will, and shattering his sense of self. He controlled it now, for the most part, although sometimes he felt that if he had to spend one moment more in complete isolation he'd start screaming until his throat bled.
He was so tired of being alone. The solitude hadn't gradually numbed his feelings like ice freezing his skin. No, it burned with a steady, dull, gray flame, eating away at his heart. It dripped acid onto his soul, peeling away layer upon layer of feeling. If only someone would touch him. If he could only hear another voice. A caress or a kick to the groin. It didn't matter which one. A murmured endearment or a bellowed curse. Either one would do.
Sometimes his thoughts drifted in crazy kaleidoscopic patterns. Forms and faces hovered and melded into one another. Remus floated before him just out of reach, his lips forming silent words. And as Sirius strained to hear him, the face would transform into his father. A younger version, the father of his earliest days, his voice ringing with laughter. Sirius smiled, remembering those years when they had been happy with each other. But, as his hand reached out to touch the man who had once loved him so much, the handsome face would twist into rage and revulsion, the soundless words spewing forth with an unfelt spray of spittle. And Sirius despaired, knowing that he'd prefer his father's shouted scorn to the cloak of silence that surrounded him. He'd rather be spat upon than feel nothing.
He slumped motionless in the solitary chair and stared at his feet. Right now his entire existence had been stripped down to a pair of black boots against a colorless floor. He stared unblinking, seeing every single grain of the leather. He started counting each miniscule dot. Maybe that's how the mind works, he pondered. Constantly trying to organize, sum up, arrange, put boundaries around whatever it observes in a delusional attempt to make sense out of whatever is presented to it. Even something as mundane as leather.
"It is time for you to return."
It took a few seconds for him to realize he was not talking to himself. Almost unwillingly, he dragged his eyes away from his feet. Standing in front of him was the Guardian, the smooth face giving nothing away.
"It's time?" He said uncertainly, trying the words on for size, seeing if they made any sense.
"Yes. I am here to escort you to the veil, where you will pass back into the living world."
"I'm going back? Now?"
The Guardian beckoned with a raised arm and smiled. "Come."
The colorless room vanished, replaced by darkness. Then a gentle wind blew, stirring his clothing and teasing strands of his hair. He felt a length of cloth brush over his face.
The air was cool and, in a dizzying rush, his senses returned to him. He smelled the outdoors, earth and plants and the pungent tang of fallen leaves. He felt a light breeze against his skin and heard it whisper through the grass. A bird called in the distance.
And, opening his eyes, he saw the evening sky stretched above him. The sun was already far below the horizon and its reflected light barely lingered, as the stars revealed themselves against the deep blue of the heavens.
Slowly Sirius sat up, not quite ready to believe that he was again on earth even though he felt the firm ground beneath him and the damp grass under his hands. He sat in the middle of a circle of stones, their rounded hulks crowning a hill. Cautiously he rose to his feet, fearful of losing this glorious sight, this breathtaking night.
And, then he heard someone calling his name; an echo of the last voice he had heard after Bellatrix had sent him through the veil. He spun around. People ran towards him, and his knees nearly buckled when he realized who they were.
TBC