CHAPTER THREE

Back to Hogwarts

Harry stared at Lupin in amazement. "You're -you're serious? You really don't see them?"

"No," said Lupin hoarsely. "Then Sirius must not be -"

"Dead," finished Harry. "If he's alive -then where is he?"

Lupin sighed heavily. "I don't know if he's alive ..he's just not dead."

Harry plastered a fake grin on his face and waved at some of his classmates, then turned back to his teacher, frowning. He didn't bother trying to hide the disappointment in his voice and expression, but he was still able to hope that whatever state of existence Sirius had been diminished to, they'd be able to find him and ..

Harry shook his head in frustration. And what? He recalled the Triwizard Tournament that had been hosted at Hogwarts back in fourth year, where he had witnessed Voldemort's return. Wormtail had helped him carry out a spell, some sort of process, that had restored him to full strength. It was ancient Dark Magic, but if the need arose, could they attempt the same for Sirius?

Looking back to Professor Lupin, Harry saw him do a peculiar thing. Lupin had withdrawn a pair of shabby gloves from his faded robes, and pulled them over his hands before grasping the silver handle of a thestral-pulled carriage and climbing in. He gave Harry a small smile and motioned to something (or someone) behind the sixteen year old's thin form.

Harry, who had been so engrossed in what Lupin was doing was startled, when he turned around, to see Ron and Hermione waving frantically at him. They clearly wanted him to sit with them in their carriage.

As Harry continued to stare blankly ahead, Ron shouted, "Oy, Harry! Come on!"

"Huh?" said Harry, shaking his head. "Oh ..right." He looked once more at Professor Lupin, who was carefully peeling off the gloves, then ran to the carriage his friends were sitting in, climbed in, and pulled the door shut.

No sooner had he done so their carriage's thestral beat his hooves against the pavement and walked forward. Harry swayed comfortably back and forth as they rumbled forward, joining the ghostly parade headed towards the castle.

Dinner that night was most enjoyable; as usual, the house-elves who prepared the welcoming feast had outdone themselves. With mouths full of chicken, potatoes, and whatever else their stomachs desired, Harry and Ron talked spiritedly about Quidditch, a wizard sport played on broomsticks. Hermione was writing line after line on a long bit of parchment, quill racing across the page.

"Hey Hermione." Ron nudged her. "Writing to Vicky again, are you?"

Frowning at him crossly, Hermione replied scathingly, "Yes, what's it to you?"

Taken aback, Ron glanced at Harry, who shrugged and returned to his drumstick.

"Nothing," replied Ron finally. "I was just wondering."

"Well his name's Viktor, not Vicky," Hermione said, signing the letter and sealing it inside an envelope.

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, then glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, he leaned in and said in a low voice, "Did you hear about the -the veil thing?"

"What about it?" Harry replied quietly.

"Well -they found out that if someone alive goes through, they don't move on to, well, some sort of afterlife, they can't, 'cause they're not dead yet, you know? They stay alive since they can't die, but they can't get out, either."

Harry nodded. Ron's dad worked at the Ministry, he must have heard about it. "So how do you get someone out?" Harry asked.

Ron looked uncomfortable. "You can't, right now. They haven't figured that bit out yet. But they do know that someone stuck in between doesn't age, Dad said they escape time or something like that." He waved a hand in the air, then stuffed a spoon full of mashed potatoes into his mouth, chewing in bliss.

"How do they know that?"

"Dunno," said Ron darkly. "Dad didn't say any more than what I just told you -to me, at least."

"Oh." Harry sat back, slightly disappointed but glad to have heard of what was going on, at least. He hadn't forgotten the summer before, where he'd been left in the dark about what was going on in the wizarding world. It was his fault Sirius had gone through, so he had to be the one to find the way to bring his godfather back ..

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. "Harry," said Hermione in a pacifying voice. "I'm sure Dumbledore has it under control, you don't have to go and do it yourself."

Harry whirled on her. "It was my fault Sirius went through, I should be the one to bring him back."

"Yes, I know how you feel ..but Harry, last time you tried to fix things, well ..they didn't turn out the way you wanted," continued Hermione, nervous in case Harry took her hint too well.

Harry opened his mouth to retort to this comment, but Ron spoke up before he had a chance to vent his anger on Hermione.

"She's not blaming you! She's just saying not to do anything until you're sure of what's going to happen," said Ron, reaching for his pumpkin juice.

"Like you would know," said Harry bitterly. "You were off in lalaland, giggling like mad. You weren't even there, you never saw!"

One glance at his friends and Harry knew that he was behaving the way they feared he would.

"You knew too, Hermione?" Harry asked, tearing a chunk of meat off a chicken leg ferociously. Suddenly his gladness that Ron had told him about the veil was disappearing, and disappearing fast.

"Well -yes, but -"

"Why doesn't ANYONE tell me ANYTHING? Why am I the LAST PERSON to know about plans for MY LIFE?" burst out Harry angrily.

"It's not your life, it's Sirius's life," said Hermione coolly. "We're getting really tired of you taking your anger out on us like last year."

Ron sat deeper in his seat, ears turning slightly pink, but spoke up all the same. "She's right, you know ..it isn't your job to save everybody."

Their remarks ringing in his ear, Harry savagely speared a pea on his fork. He could hardly believe the injustice -after all the times he'd saved their skins in the past! They'd probably be dead now if it weren't for him. Well fine then, if they didn't want him to save them if they got into trouble, he wouldn't. He didn't say another word to them for the rest of the feast, then stomped furiously up to his dorm, flinging the covers over his body and pretending to be asleep when Ron came up.

He vaguely heard Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Ron come up, and knew they were staring at him.

"Is he asleep?" asked Dean in a hushed voice.

"Highly unlikely," said Ron. "No one can go to sleep the second they get into bed, after just running from the Great Hall to the dorm."

The voice he'd been dreading spoke to him, making Harry grit his teeth.

"I know you're awake, Harry," said Ron.

Harry sat up abruptly, an expression of mock puzzlement on his face. "Now let's see, what else do you know?" he said scathingly.

"That you're being stupid for no good reason."

"Stupid? I'm being stupid, am I? Well that makes two of us, then," retorted Harry, lying back down.

The next morning, Harry didn't go down to breakfast but lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The door to his dormitory opened, he flicked his eyes to see who it was. With a dull spreading sensation in his stomach, he realized it was Hermione, holding a muffin in a napkin.

"I brought you some food," she said gingerly. "You weren't at breakfast."

"Thanks," said Harry, taking it from her and scarfing it down. Hermione was watching him, he realized, probably waiting for him to say something else. Well, he wasn't going to say anything. To his partial dismay, Hermione didn't say anything either, but left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Groaning, Harry pulled himself out of bed, knowing he had to get to class. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to be an Auror now. He'd gotten an "Outstanding" on his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. and, to his surprise, an "Exceeds Expectations" on everything else except Divination and Potions. Divination, he knew, wasn't important for an Auror to know, but he had to have a N.E.W.T. for Potions and in order to get into the N.E.W.T. Potions class, he had to have scraped an "Outstanding" O.W.L. Harry had only gotten an "Acceptable," so figured he'd have to ask Professor McGonagall to see if there was anything he could do so he could still be an Auror.

Harry was walking down the hallway to Transfiguration, which started in fifteen minutes, when a girl with long hair stopped him, staring dreamily into his eyes.

"Er -hi, Luna," said Harry. She was the only one he really felt comfortable talking about Sirius to, since she was actually somewhat similar to him -she could see the thestrals, and hear the voices behind the veil, too. A year younger than him, she had grown a couple of inches over the summer, though without loss to her dreamy, dotty nature.

"Hi," replied Luna, a cooking guide perched atop her stack of schoolbooks. "You've heard about the veil?"

Remembering his conversation with Ron, Harry nodded.

"Want to go?"

"Er ..what?" Harry stared at her, confused.

"I thought you said you knew," said Luna.

"I don't think I know what you know," Harry replied. "What d'you know?"