Harry Potter and the Ethereal Time

Bindings and confusion

Harry felt like he was drifting after stepping into the veil. Despite the completely empty void he had seen when he first looked past the tattered curtain, there was something to see on this side. Everything around him was vague and disjointed, it was as though he was looking at a crowd of people through smoke, he could tell they were there and he could hear them, but the little he saw of them wasn't enough to know who or what they were.

The strange transparency that had coursed through him before he had crossed the veil didn't matter here. It seemed that it had spread all the way and was no longer anything to worry about. He didn't feel any different to normal, there was no cold sensation that the veil had inspired before – there was in fact no sensation at all. Now that he thought about it and was focused on the sense, Harry could feel nothing, it was almost as if his body no longer existed, and his mind had only created the image of a body.

Time was slipping by, Harry knew that, but he had no idea how much, or if that even meant anything in this strange place he was in. Now that I'm here, I might as well try and find Sirius, I'm sure I'll be able to tell him apart from all the other figures; he told himself, trying to give himself some sort of hope when he knew that there was none.

There was some sort of substance to this place, he could move around as though he was walking on solid ground – despite the fact that there was only more of the same misty darkness below him. The problem lay in not having anything to judge his position from, and Harry soon felt sure that he was walking in some sort of circle, not the straight line he was attempting.

Harry became frustrated for a moment, before he decided to not worry about it. There's nothing I can do to help myself, I might as well stop looking for him. He tried to reassure himself before he was struck by another thought, who was I looking for? I know it was someone important, but who was it?

It began to worry Harry when he couldn't remember why he was here, or how he got wherever here was. His thoughts were breaking apart and making little sense to him as he caught fragments at a time. He occasionally had a complete coherent thought, and knew exactly where he was and why, but it happened less frequently as he continued aimlessly wandering through the strange space.

Things became darker the longer Harry continued to wander. He soon could barely see his own ghostly looking hand in front of him; but, strangely enough, it didn't particularly bother him, though he knew it probably should. His thoughts slowed down to almost nothing as the darkness grew around him, enclosing him and reaching out to claim him for its own.

With a few last semi-coherent thoughts, Harry thought it might be nice to let this nothingness take him.

"Do you think we pulled him out in time?" Asked the worried Lady Hufflepuff; or rather it was her lingering soul, currently a pale yellow insubstantial form, which asked the question of Lady Ravenclaw.

"His spirit is still alive, despite the fact that his body died there. So, yes, we got him in time. Just." Rowena Ravenclaw was in a human form instead of her usual, relaxed, shifting form. In this guise she was beautiful, dark, shoulder-length hair framed a finely carved face set determinedly as she worked.

"If you hadn't delayed us by arguing we could've done more for him!" The human form of Gryffindor said hotly to his sometime friend, Slytherin.

"I was merely trying to stop us wasting our precious resources on the boy. But it's a moot point now, things worked out as you wanted."

"Yes, how I wanted, and how the others wanted too. You were the one who differed in view."

"Myself and my Lady both declined to support you. It was not as simple as you painted it to be." The dark green being said with a sneer, allowing himself to shift into a tall, human form with long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck and cold, grey eyes, that looked irritable, set beneath thin eyebrows.

Helga Hufflepuff lost her temper as the two males set upon one another yet again. "Will you two please stop arguing? It's impossible to work with your incessant bickering!"

"No matter what our views were, it is not in any of our best interests to lose him now, so help us ground his spirit now." Speaking out from where she worked, Rowena sent a glare towards the one who was her husband, urging him to leave things be for now.

They wisely did as she said, and joined the two women, all now in their human appearances.

Harry could see something. A blur of colours was slowly growing brighter out of the darkness, and he felt himself being drawn towards it, despite his conscious effort to stay back. There was something about the coloured lights that seemed odd and, not being able to think clearly, Harry wanted to just keep away from them and stay in the darkness he knew. Unfortunately whatever the light was, it wasn't going to let him do that. The pull became stronger, and Harry no longer had the energy to fight it, and simply allowed it to take him in.

Warmth. That was what he noticed first. It wasn't a physical feeling – he still couldn't feel anything – rather it was a feeling of comfort, hospitality. He felt happy here, and he could once again think clearly.

Harry opened his eyes and began to become more aware of his surroundings, noticing four figures standing around him, and, for a moment, a fifth standing slightly further away. The place he was in didn't seem to be anything much, just a large room with very little in the way of furnishings. Everything seemed a little distant, not quite real. It was a strange feeling, and Harry found himself closing his eyes again in an attempt to wake up from what he was beginning to think was a dream. Opening his eyes again, the young wizard tried to gain an idea of where he was, after all, if it was a dream it was most likely about something he had been through. He had had enough dreams about graveyards and veiled archways to assume that there would be something bad about this dream. But when he took a better look around him at the, still unfocussed, room, Harry could see nothing that posed a threat to him. Even the figures standing around him seemed to be no danger to him, yet.

There was something insubstantial about the way he felt, but the feeling was growing less and less as the figures around him grew more focused. Slowly, Harry began to make out sounds around him. There was a faint hum which Harry recognised as a powerful sort of magical ritual – particularly since all four of the figures were contributing to the chant. There was very little in the way of other noise, he couldn't even hear himself breathing.

Harry had one full moment of clarity, where he saw and heard everything clearly – the four faces of those who stood over him, the words they were chanting (­humus is phasmatis;, redimio is animus), but, strangely, still no breathing. The moment ended suddenly, and Harry was plunged into unconsciousness.

Harry woke to a single clear thought in his mind. Sirius! He was able to think clearly now, there was none of the previous fogginess which had plagued him after entering the veil.

The problem with being able to think clearly again was the rush of emotion about losing the only chance he had of seeing his Godfather again. He had set all his hopes on being able to bring Sirius back from beyond the veil, but he knew that hope was gone now. Somehow he must have failed, did he even make it to the veil? Harry had the strange thought that he should be dead if he had – even though that would mean Sirius really was dead. Trying not to dwell on any more thoughts of his Godfather, he opened his eyes, blinking against the warm, bright lights.

Must be the Hospital wing, Harry thought in a daze, it's always bright when I wake up there. Strangely, the thought of being back at Hogwarts didn't comfort him, Harry had been hoping to be re-united with Sirius, and if he was back at the school then he must have failed.

Brought out of his musings by a figure approaching, Harry looked through struggling eyes to make out a short, plump woman with a kindly appearance. Pomfrey, she must have heard me wake.

"How are you feeling Mr. Potter?" He was asked in a familiar manner.

"Fine, Ma'am." Harry paused, reaching out beside him for his glasses. "Um, Madame Pomfrey, could you please hand me my glasses? I can't find them."

'Madame Pomfrey' chuckled softly, before handing him the requested object. "Here you are, Mr. Potter. It seems you really do need those to see, even here."

Confused and still half-asleep, Harry put his glasses on, "what do you mean, even here, Ma'am?" Looking up into a face which most definitely did not belong to the school's nurse, Harry gasped and tried to shuffle away from the stranger. "W-who are you? Where am I?"

Still smiling kindly, the woman allowed some calming energy to influence her surroundings, making the boy relax slightly. "This may seem a little strange to you, it's a lot to take in, but I am Helga Hufflepuff." Harry stiffened, but she could see his mind working things through.

"Does that mean that I'm – dead?" Harry couldn't help but let out a small tremor with his question. It certainly didn't reassure him when the woman in front of him merely shuffled before responding.

"That question, Mr. Potter, is a little harder to answer."

­Humus is phasmatis; redimio is animus – Latin for 'ground this spirit, bind this soul' (at least its supposed to be!).

Next chapter: Explanations and beginnings.
Harry didn't faint after hearing that he was sitting talking to one of the founders of Hogwarts. And he didn't faint when he was certain he was dead. He did, however, faint when he heard the explanation of what had happened. Well, maybe not faint, but he certainly did have to sit down very quickly.