Disclaimers: I don't own anything in this story other then the three previously mentioned components, but I do own the beautiful Macintosh PowerBook G3 used to type it.
Thunk.
Sirius fell out of the Veil for the second time in a few hours. This time, however, it constituted of a tumble and a head-first landing off the stone dais in the amphitheater, rather than a flop onto wet grass. He righted himself, rubbing his sore head bemusedly and taking in his surroundings.
He was back in the amphitheater, which was empty—the battle must have ended. He looked around for his wand, but failed to find it; someone must have picked it up. After gathering up his fallen chocolates, he sat on the dais for a moment to decide on a course of action.
Sirius concluded, on reflection, that revealing himself to the Order was a bad plan. It would take several hours and perhaps a few drops of Veritaserum to relay his rather implausible story to everyone, and even longer to successfully convince Mad-Eye that he wasn't a Death Eater is disguise. Then, a meeting would be called to discuss plans for apprehending this Cirian Blask, and objections would be raised, and, all in all, he would probably waste his first twenty-four hours simply convincing everyone that he was telling the truth. And as for actually completing his unusual task—well, that was a different matter entirely.
However, he did feel that he ought to tell Moony. Remus Lupin was perhaps the person most likely to know the whereabouts of his wand, and, having been his childhood friend, would also be the easiest to convince. In addition, Sirius knew from experience that Moony was a reliable asset in unusual missions, whether it was tracking down mysterious neighbors or nicking food from the Hogwarts kitchens.
Decisions made, Sirius Disapparated.
Or, so he thought—when he opened his eyes, he was still in the Department of Mysteries and not at Grimmauld Place, as he had planned. He tried again.
Still nothing.
And then he realized—there was probably a Ministry investigation going on concerning the events of the previous night. An Anti-Disapparation jinx had doubtless been cast over the whole Department.
Damn.
How was he going to leave? He was the second most wanted member of the Wizarding community—he couldn't simply waltz out without a thousand Aurors and security personnel pouncing on him. And Disillusionment was useless at close quarters; moreover, he still didn't have a wand.
How would he get out?
Eric, Atrium security wizard, was having a rough morning. First he'd been pulled for questioning about Lord Voldemort's supposed Ministry break-in the night before. Then, he'd been given a list of names and told that any visitors not on the list were to be turned out of the building. Eric had his hands full explaining to irate witches and wizards that it would be impossible for them to visit their cousin Ernie at the office today, and also answering the questions of the many Ministry workers who came into the Atrium and yelled, "Good Lord, who blew up the fountain?" All in all, he was at his wit's end.
And then a big stray dog somehow got loose in the building, and he became even more exasperated, were that possible.
Snuffles bounded down the London street, weaving in and out between pedestrians and their shopping bags. When he finally reached a grimy back alley, he ducked behind some dustbins and transformed back into a man. Sirius leaned against the brick wall of the abandoned apartment complex, breathing heavily. That was the worst—the worst—escape maneuver he had ever undergone, even since his Hogwarts days. It had taken long enough to figure out which door led out the Department of Mysteries (that spinning room was infuriating). By then he had several Unspeakables on his tail, literally, and more Ministry employees joined the chase as he bounded up stairwells and through corridors, wended through the repair crews in the Atrium, and finally escaped into Muggle London.
Never, ever again.
At least now he could Disapparate. With a small pop! the ex-convict sheltering in the back street vanished, as if he had never been there.
Meanwhile, back at number 12, Grimmauld Place, Sirius materialized in the middle of the Black family drawing room. He crept stealthily across the room, keeping an eye out for Kreacher, the stinker, and also for other Order members. However, the house appeared deserted. Perhaps they had refrained from entering Headquarters out of respect for the dead, he thought, as he descended the staircase that led to the ground floor. Did they think he'd be back to haunt the place? Well, they were nearly right, except Sirius wasn't dead anymore. Not at the moment, anyway.
He stalked quietly through the main hall, careful to be silent so as not to wake his mother's dratted portrait, though they might have one thing in common now that they both had died. Still, he didn't want the shrieks of, "Shame of my flesh, abomination, creatures of filth!" to betray his presence to the rest of the house. He continued on, past the horrible elf heads. Still, he had seen nor heard no one. Where would he try next, if Moony wasn't here? He wasn't even sure his old friend had a house anymore, and he couldn't think of any other plausible locations.
But he was rewarded as he entered the kitchen by the sight of the back of someone's head, someone with light brown, gray-streaked hair and very shabby robes. Ha, he was in luck. Moony was here.
How would he announce himself? This would require care and sensitivity. Remus thought he was dead, and he was hopefully grieving a little. How did you greet someone who was under the impression that you were gone from the land of the living?
Sirius did it as best he could.
"Hello, Remus, would you like some chocolate?"
Remus yelped and jumped a foot, knocking over the chair he was sitting in. Whirling around, he saw his dead friend standing before him, holding out a chocolate bar.
"Pretty good stuff; heavenly, if you know what I mean," he said, and the next minute he was sniggering at his own pathetic pun. Remus, meanwhile, looked at if he'd been Petrified—he was white as a sheet, and there were huge dark circles under his eyes, which were opened to their fullest extent. Sirius acknowledged this with another sensitive comment. "God, Moony, you look terrible. Full moon coming, or are you just mourning me?"
A strangled noise emerged from Lupin's throat, and he keeled over.
"Tut tut," muttered Sirius. "You never used to lose it this easy. I guess the strain gets to you." He whipped the wand out of the unconscious werewolf's belt, pointed it at its owner, and said, "Ennervate."
Remus's eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet with surprising speed. He wrenched the wand from Sirius's slackened grip and pointed it at his friend, between the eyes. "Who are you?" he snapped with surprising vehemence.
"'S me, Sirius," he replied languidly. "I guess I might have expected this. Dead men rarely come back to life, do they?"
"Enough of this. Is this supposed to be some kind of pathetic joke, or..." Comprehension dawned on Remus's face. "You're a Death Eater, aren't you? I suppose you're congratulating yourself on your clever disguise. I guess you didn't hear."
"Hear what?" asked Sirius infuriatingly.
"Sirius Black is dead," he said with a slight catch in his voice, and his eyes seemed to deaden.
"Yes, I suppose I did die, but they gave me a reprieve. Special circumstances, y'know. You still don't believe me? Here, I'll transform..." Swiftly, Sirius seemed to bunch up on all fours; his limbs and torso changed shape, a tail sprouted, his nose and mouth merged and lengthened into a snout, his ears became larger, and black fur began to sprout. A black dog with a thick, bedraggled coat stood in the doorway, tail wagging.
"Nice Transfiguation work," said Remus coldly. "But I'm not convinced."
The dog turned back into a man. "Okay, then, you want information? My name is Sirius Black, son of Orion Black and that old hag whose picture you see in the hallway. I had a younger brother name Regulus who became a Death Eater. My best friends at school were you, James, and Peter... I'm a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and I've spent all year locked in this dungeon against my will."
"Sirius, if you are Sirius, there is a certain piece of information that only you would know. From our school days," said the werewolf, his eyes narrowed frostily.
Sirius thought for a moment. "I was the one who turned all your chocolates into fruit bats during our third year," he offered.
"That was you?"
"Eh heh heh, guess not... oh, wait, I know what you're talking about." Sirius looked embarrassed. "Do I have to say it?"
"Yes."
"I slept with a stuffed Crup named Mr. Wiggles until I was sixteen."
Remus Lupin looked baffled. "Good Lord, Sirius, it is you! But how... but how...?"
"Sit down; I've got a lot to tell you. And it's all a little unbelievable."
Half an hour later, the chocolates had all been devoured, and Remus had, at last, been convinced. They now sat drinking Butterbeers and discussing the whole matter.
"So the afterlife is a green field where people play ping-pong?" the werewolf asked incredulously while Sirius took another swig of butterbeer.
"Yep, odd huh? And they call it Here. So creative."
"And how are we going to find this Cirian Blask?"
"I know his address; number 17, Grimmauld Place, only a few houses down."
"Is he a wizard or Muggle?"
"Or a Vanderdeiken?"
"What?"
"Never mind. The point is, I'm not sure."
"Well, if he is a Muggle, we'll have to be very careful about how we handle it. There are severe penalties attached to using magic on Muggles, and on bringing them into magically reinforced areas. The Ministry has all kinds of sensor spells to detect spells used against non-magical beings," mused Remus.
'Still like a textbook," muttered Sirius. "Incidentally, Moony, have you seen my wand?"
"No, I haven't."
"Damn," he said softly. This would be much more difficult if Remus was the only one who could perform magic. He drained his bottle and set it down on the wooden table with a dull clunk. Remus put down his drink likewise.
"Well, if we've only got forty-six hours left, then we'd better get going," he said briskly, as if they were preparing to go to the library and search for a particular book. "I only hope Mr. Blask will be compliant."
"I doubt it," said Sirius. "I wouldn't."