Harry found himself in the Death Chamber once more, but it was different now. He was alone. The room was silent save for the rustling of the veil, and the disembodied whispers just beyond the arch. Beneath his bare feet, Harry felt the chill of the stone steps. It was eerily dark within the room. The only thing casting light was the arch itself. A crystalline blue aura, which illuminated its edges and spread weakly throughout the chamber. Harry, intrigued by both the light and the whispers, drew closer. The veil quivered slightly at his approach, but otherwise allowed itself to catch the mysterious breezes that were now emanating from the other side of the arch. The voices grew stronger. Curiosity turned into mad desire, and Harry felt like throwing himself through the archway to find what was on the other side. With a trembling, white hand, Harry reached up to pull back the veil. He stepped through, holding his breath, and found himself momentarily blinded by...

...The glow of the sun against white, pure sand. He was on a beach! Yards of untouched sand stretched out before his very eyes, and at the end was a blue-green ocean. He could smell the sea air; as real as anything he'd ever experienced before. Behind him, a lush forest grew. Tall and healthy trees sprouted out in different angles with a thick, vibrant brush covered in every sort of tropical flower. "Is this what death is like?" he asked to the void. The bliss filled, warm void. There was no answer. Harry hadn't expected one.

Eagerly, he stepped forward onto the naked beach. There was no litter at all. No twigs, shells, or even small sea life that may have made its way up the sand. It was blank, like a new piece of parchment. It was quite incredible despite the sudden loneliness Harry was feeling. He walked down toward the shore, where the tide, he noted, was just now seeping in. Sighing, he placed his bare foot into the water and felt the cool, refreshing wave wash over him. It seemed to fill all of his body with a sense of tranquility. Harry smiled. He had the desire now to walk into the water. To allow that feeling wash over him for the rest of eternity. Drowning didn't seem feasible here. This wasn't really water, Harry thought to himself as he inched forward. It was something else. Something new that he hadn't experienced.

Preparing to submerge himself, Harry removed the robes of his nightgown after he waded knee deep into the water, and arched his back for a dive. All of a sudden, he felt his foot scrape over something sharp. A broken shell, he mused without a second thought. But as Harry pulled himself back against the gripping tide, he found that it was more than just a broken shell. His heel had connected with a smooth surface. Part of it was cracked in jagged, dangerous pieces that were now biting painfully into Harry's foot. Cursing, he threw himself back onto the sand and pulled his foot up so that he might see it better. Sure enough, there was a long incision from his toes to his heel. It was bleeding heavily.

Harry bit his lip against the pain and inspected the wound. There was no glass in it, fortunately. He crawled so that his new injury would not get sand into it, and moved to find what had caused this. To his amazement, the tide fell suddenly and he saw a small mirror, left behind carelessly in its wake. He reached out and grabbed at it before the sea swallowed it forever. Its reflective surface was cracked, and within the splinters ran thin lines of watery blood. Harry's own, he knew. But this mirror, Harry realized with a frightened pang in his heart, wasn't any mirror. It was the one Sirius had given him upon their last meeting. The one Sirius had told him to use to contact him if he needed anything. But how did it get here? Harry asked himself. His own mirror was packed tightly in his trunk. It was the mirror with a crack through the glass. How could his mirror have gotten here?

Questions began to form in Harry's mind at a million miles a minute. Each made less sense than the last, and with no one to ask, Harry was on his own. Sighing, he set the mirror down and peered out at the ocean once more. The feeling to plunge back into its depths returned. He frowned. This wasn't normal. Wherever he was... it wasn't where he should be. Harry looked sadly down at the mirror. Its broken, smooth surface had not one scratch on it. Not a dent, no harm at all. How was that possible after having been buried on this beach for so long?

Once again, Harry found himself consumed with loneliness and longing. Sirius wasn't here. Why? Had there been a mistake? Was their some sort of mix up? Had Sirius done what Harry now desired to do? Leaping into the blue mysteries of that ocean so as to finally find some peace in his life? If that was the case, Harry decided, then he would do so as well. There was nothing left worth holding on to in his own life that Harry met with purpose. Everyone had their own lives to lead now. Everyone had someone they could call there's...everyone except for Harry. That privilege, that blessing, had died with Sirius. Now, there was nothing left. Harry had decided that a long time ago.

With an elongated sigh, Harry stood, ignoring the twinge in his foot. He was about to make what might have been the last decision of his life, before;

"Harry!"

He stopped dead on his feet. Harry knew that voice well. It haunted his dreams every night, all night, ever since he had left Hogwarts. It was Sirius' voice, and he sounded pleading; as though he could see what Harry was preparing to do to himself. "Harry, don't. Please!"

Harry looked around, bewildered and concerned. What was wrong? Why did Sirius sound so desperate? Why did he sound so frightened all of a sudden?

"Sirius?"

"Harry, please! Don't do it! Don't let go."

Let go? Harry thought. What on Earth would he be letting go of?

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, bewildered. His eyes flashed around madly, searching desperately for his godfather: the one person that had ever really meant something to him. A feeling beyond friendship, beyond the obligated cares his aunt and uncle had ever bestowed upon him. Sirius had been someone he could confide in. Sirius was the parent Harry had never known. Now, he was gone, and Harry wanted him back more than anything. "Sirius? Where are you?"

"I'm right here, Harry. Right where I've always been."

This statement made Harry very angry. Where the hell did he get off saying that? Sirius wasn't anywhere in sight!

"Where?" Harry demanded again, this time with urgency. He noted the weakness in his own voice, but brushed the thought away carelessly. "Show me."

There was no answer, but he had the strangest sensation that someone was holding his hands. Harry looked down, bewildered. No, there was no one here to have even brushed past his side, much less take his hands. Then, something else caught Harry's eyes. He saw the mirror, and in its cracked surface he saw bits and pieces of his godfather's face. It was tear stained and pale, drawn thin by increased worry. His hair was tidier now, but messy still, as though he hadn't properly brushed it in days. Harry's knees buckled, and he reached desperately for the mirror. He held it close, tears now forming in his own eyes.

"Sirius! Sirius!" He cried into the mirror, not knowing what else to do.

"What, Harry? I'm here, what is it?"

Sirius sounded genuinely concerned and frightened. The thought struck Harry as odd that his godfather would act so terrified in front of him, or at any other time. Part of Harry had always held the childish conception that Sirius was emotionally impenetrable, that he had always possessed a clear head and a ready stamina. Of course, that belief had been proven incorrect by many, including Sirius himself; yet the idolizing eyes of a growing boy upon his mentor could not be easily swayed by words alone.

This, however, made Harry's heart hurt. Here was Sirius, reaching out desperately for him, with Harry unable to do anything to help. For the second time in his life, he found his skills inadequate. He couldn't save the one person that meant the world to him. It ached, terribly.

"Sirius, where are you?"

"I'm here, Harry. I'm right here."

Harry swallowed a desperate, angry sob. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Just wake up. You'll see."

"No! No, don't say that!" Harry yelled into the shattered mirror in his hands; a perfect symbol of his own hopes and dreams for the future. "Don't say that! This is real!"

The imagery around Harry broke. It swirled and paled, dying before Harry's very eyes. He clung desperately to the mirror and the image of his godfather's face, but soon it too was taken from his hands. Tears in his eyes, Harry reached out frantically to rip it back, only to find empty space. He awoke with a start to find himself in Ron's bedroom. The tears were still falling from the corners of his eyes.

"No," Harry gasped, trying desperately to hold back the sobs of anguish that were already wracking his body.