This section written by Nalana
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Harry pressed his forehead against the unforgiving glass of the Hogwarts express. Rain pounded down, the body heat inside the train compartment causing the glass to fog. His breath clouded thickly in contrast before retreating again before the next breath. Silently, he watched the simple reaction in awe.
It kept him focused; making any noise that entered his ears void. Watching the swirl, keeping up with the rhythm of his breathing, it all let him stay as far away from the others as possible.
"Bloody hell."this
Ronald Weasley, his best friend, stormed into the train compartment angrily.
"I wish she'd just stop it," he growled.
Harry blinked, his concentration being robbed from him. Glancing with dead eyes at Ron, he pretended to listen as his friend continued to blabber about how Luna Lovegood wouldn't stop openly swooning over him. He heard something from Hermione Granger, his other best friend, about flattery. With a fatalistic shrug, he turned back to the window and his game with the glass.
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Outside of Harry's little world, Hermione glared at the redheaded Gryfindor who sat opposite of her. She personally thought he needed a good swat across the head.
Can't he see how much Harry is hurting right now? she thought to herself as she glanced to the boy beside her.
Hermione had known the famous wizard for six years now. He had always faced everything with a grain of salt. Though he had been a bit of a prick their previous year, that didn't give Ron the right to loose his patience with him now. Harry had lost a lot, and it was eating away at him.
That was why Hermione was so shocked when she and Ron had to hold him back when the Aurors had paid them a visit. Peter Pettigrew had been caught. The three teenagers, accompanied by Remus Lupin, had witnessed him being dragged out from hiding and away to Azkaban.
Rain pounded into the loose soil, splashing drops of mud onto the legs of the onlookers. A fistful of people had gathered around the team of Aurors and the captive they had in hand. Several members of the wizarding community mumbled and pointed in shock at the scraggly plump man who was being dragged away screaming and kicking. His pleas didn't do anything to faze those around him as they sounding just about as appealing as the high-pitched squeal of a rat that was choking on poison.
"It can't be!" one woman whispered.
"He's dead! Sirius Black killed him!" another protested.
"I just want to..." Harry, being restrained, cursed.
A slender but firm hand came down on his shoulder, cutting off his words.
"Let it go, Harry. There's nothing else we can do." The older man's voice was somber, showing that he wasn't completely satisfied either.
"It's all because of him, Remus! Sirius is dead because of him! And people still curse his name! Sirius didn't do anything!" Harry snapped, his teeth clenching tightly.
"No, Harry. It's not Peter's fault. Not this time..." Remus sighed, "If anything, we should thank him."
"Are you mad!" The red-haired boy's eyes widened. "Thank him!"
"He's right. Now that everyone knows Pettigrew is alive, Sirius's name will be cleared." Hermione's voice lowered slightly after she vocally acknowledged Sirius' name.
"What good will that do him now?" Harry growled, fighting back the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes.
The nightmares had been enough for him. He didn't need to cut open any more wounds.
Silence echoed once more across the group. When Harry's arms went loose, Ron's hands dropped. Hermione's remained as a comfort. A deep sigh left the werewolf as he became lost in thought.
"There's a muggle saying, Harry. My pops taught it to me after Mum... died. It rains on the happy dead."
Yes, the frizzy haired girl nodded in silent agreement, it does rain.
And man, did it pour that night! Sirius must have been smiling down at them.
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The past few weeks had been especially trying. After the arrest, Dumbledore had urged all those of the Order to return to the Grimmauld house. Finding another place for base was discussed, but it boiled down to what Sirius would have wanted. The consensus was mutual. He'd want them somewhere safe.
Ms. Granger had watched with a feeling close to horror when the sleeping arrangements had been made. Remus had asked politely to take up Padfoot's old room. In the eyes of her black-haired friend that action bordered on the severity of treason to a king. Ron had found himself using his new-found quidditch-induced strength to keep Harry from ripping out the elder's throat.
The two hadn't spoken for days. She had to admit that she was a bit unnerved by the irony that followed. Before they had arrived at Grimmauld, Remus seemed to have gone five shades paler. His skin stuck closer to his bones. His eyes lost the mischievous gleam that they always seemed to keep even when he was sick.
After a few solid nights rest in his best friend's old room, he seemed far more alive than she had seen him in a long time. She found Remus's actions and following smiles a bit cocky, more likely to be found on Sirius' face than Remus'. But, she had to take it as best as she could and be happy that he had found some solace in being surrounded by his friend's old things.
Either way, Harry and Lupin had somehow worked things out. Before she knew it, something had changed. The two were becoming quite a bit more protective of each other than before; they were even closer. Could Sirius' death have actually had a good effect? She wasn't sure.
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Harry's concentration broke when Ron tapped him on the shoulder with his wand. Forcing himself, he started a conversation about his expectations for this year's Quidditch team. They had lost a few members to graduation, and their youngest player had apparently transferred to another school somewhere in Ireland. It didn't seem that Gryffindor had a lot of luck when it came to sports this year. But, miracles did happen!
The conference was broken up by the sound of the treat trolley coming down the aisle. A couple chocolate frogs and a lecture or two from Hermione about what so much chocolate would do to their teeth later – a side effect from being the daughter of two dentists – and Harry found a polite way to exit the main topic. His mind trailed off again, and he scolded himself. He had thought far too much lately. He didn't like thinking; not about this.
Even before Pettigrew's arrest, nightmares had ravished his dreams. He hadn't had a decent sleep in months. Even the Dursleys were beginning to notice the tired air around him. Mrs. Weasley's reaction had been pure disgust. After all, she was like a mother to him. It's a mother's prerogative to worry! It's also an uncle's.
That's where Ex-Professor Lupin came into the game. Harry admitted, he was less then thrilled when he heard where Remus was staying. It only shuffled up the night terrors a little more. But that changed soon enough.
The portrait of Mrs. Black had gone off screaming three times that particular day. Poor Tonks had knocked over a glass, ripped a curtain, and broken a broom. For hours on end, they tried to sooth the image from it's screeches of betrayal, spirits, traitors, and intruders. So, it was with extra care that a sleepless Harry treaded down the carpeting.
Unfortunately, being precise meant walking by that dreaded room. Instead of hearing the light snoring that accompanied his friend these days, he heard a panicked mutter. Instinct took over causing the teenager to pop his head into the room. In the darkened room a sweat-covered Lupin thrashed against his sheets.
What was this? Was the werewolf even terrorized at midnight? Harry's eyes widened. Remus seemed so calm and collected during the day. But now, he looked as helpless as Harry felt when he woke up from his nightly chases. Remus stopped wriggling and became very rigid. He appeared not to even breath. Biting his lip, Harry crossed the room to shake the other male awake.
"Ahh! Harry! What are you doing up? What are you doing in here?" The slightly graying man inquired in a harsh whisper.
"You looked like you had just had a heart attack or something..." Harry shrugged, backing up. "Y-You alright?"
The wakened man's shoulders slumped. "I'll... I'll be fine." A silence resonated. "You know, Harry. He visits me, or rather, I visit him. He's in the dark, wandering, sitting, waiting."
"It's like he's trapped, but he's never been so free. But he's not alone. There are others with him. Right?" The teen's eyes bulged as the description continued. It matched his dreams word-for-word.
"You can hear them whispering to him. You can hear that girl... she sounds familiar, at least to me… And then, he's in pain, he's running, screaming..."
"But he stops, looks right at you, and tells you it's alright... He knows it will be… he… " Harry had picked up where Remus left off, but he too trailed into silence.
A deep chuckle left the elder male's throat, his eyes gleaming. "Well, Harry, I guess that you and I are just a bunch of loonies. Why, I bet--"
EEEEERRRRRR – SSSSSSHHHHHHH – KKH!
The memory faded with the abrupt halt of the train. It hadn't seemed to be long enough for them to have already reached the school. But, sure enough, the bustle of fellow students shoving through the hallways trying to avoid one another while getting out signaled their arrival.
Standing up carefully, Hermione grabbed her luggage. A heavy sigh dragged out of her lungs as Ron snatched up his trunk and bumped into her and Harry several times. He seemed to notice the scowls from both of his friends and immediately shriveled.
"Geeez. Okay... Um, I'll give you two some time to calm down... I... uh, I'll meet you in the Great Hall...alright?"
The fiery-headed sixteen year old excused himself quickly before he found himself hexed into the next century.
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Nighttime. She was used to it. It was always dark here. The sun never woke. She was always fumbling around and tripping over everything. Yet, you couldn't move and at the same time were everywhere. It was as if you were a liquid spilt and lost in the ocean.
It took a while to get used to. She never had privacy, but she could seclude herself. Once she had mastered this odd form of transportation she slowly learned how to tell one confused entity from another. That's how she had met the others like her, the ones that were more than mere shadows. Together her conscious conversed with theirs, whispering in thought. There were four of them all together; two male and two female. Together they shared everything. All of their memories, their thoughts, their dreams, their fears. They were in a library that all four could access spontaneously. Sometimes things would appear in front of them without them having asked.
That's exactly what happened, things would appear. The best way she could explain it was when you're dreaming, you see the images, but you know a natural fog surrounds you. She had become used to it. But what she couldn't handle was the graphic nature of what was shown her.
She would see a wolf with bared teeth; hear it snarling at her. She'd see a full moon and feel herself be slashed at. She'd experience pain as a warm dagger was thrust into her gut. She'd choke as icy water filled up her lungs. She'd hear herself screaming, pleading… warning. Frustration, aggravation, woe, joy, or mischief would fill her at any given moment. The taste of blood, spices, raw meat, candy, or god-awful potions would fill her mouth at any given point in time.
She inhaled, if you could call it that, to summon some of these images back to her. Each time she did this, she found that one particular mind sent the strongest images to her. The newest arrival's were always the most vivid; she thought it was probably because of the feelings that flowed so easily between them.
At least, she was fairly sure he was the newest. Once you entered this... place... you lost track of time. You didn't know how long you were here, or how long anyone else had been. For all she knew, a millennia could have past since she entered, and all those around her could be that much junior or senior to her.
Disregarding time, a while ago this strong essence had found a way to reach out to those still living. A way to reach out to the minds of those who had been closest to him. The communication wasn't vocal, it was purely mental, using dreams as the phone line.
This ability had a downfall. He was always exhausted after these 'trips'. Each time his essence would seem to flicker, and she had begun after the second time to bolster his strength with her own until he was recovered. She had simply existed for what felt like forever before he had come, and she could not bear to lose him.
Contacting the living wasn't as easy as talking to the dead. That was very simple. She herself had had many an interesting conversation with her mother. But even that seemed to become more and more difficult to do these days. That's how she had come to realize where they were.
She was in a limbo, between life and death, eternally captured. The strain on her physical body was so great that some day she would not die or live. She would simply cease to exist. Her realization of this new type of mortality had spread a great panic throughout this community of souls. He, especially, seemed distressed – the one who had come to mean so much to her.
It was then that she had decided it was up to her to find a way out of this hell hole. The desire of escape consumed her though the idea had never even come to her before; she had nothing to go back to. But she would find a way out for him at least so that he could be back with those that mattered most to him. She searched the archive of knowledge that floated around them all endlessly. Finally, she found something. Within her grasp she had an incantation that required the will of thousands to manipulate.
There was one catch. She had no control – if this even worked – on who would be transported back to Life. There was in fact a chance that all of them would simply disappear the moment after the last lines were spoken. She alerted the others of what she had found. It was unanimous. She was to perform the spell. They had chosen to take their chances. This was their only hope.
Secretly, she knew all of her will would be pushing that at least he leave limbo, with the whole of their little group her second priority. She wasn't sure it was even possible for the less tangible ones outside their community of souls to pass completely to the world of the living. She just hoped that those who didn't make it would pass on peacefully to the land of the dead.
So, slightly reluctant, she began.
When the words were said, a silver curtain appeared out of nowhere. A contrast to the black one they had all come through at some point, the one she had first tried going back through when she started her quest. It hadn't worked of course; the black curtain was only an echo of what it was in the living world.
But this new one was material, tangible. A peace fell over all of them. Curiosity was always something she had strongly possessed. So, she reached out a hand towards the veil.
"NO!" She heard his strong voice scream behind her.
He grabbed her, tried to keep her back. But she couldn't help it. Her fingers, which somehow solidified, passed across the satin that hung there.
He spun them so she saw what had scared him, stretching her connection to the silver curtain around them. The black curtain was moving toward the silver one, toward them. Panic and fear seized her, and she pulled the other two to her; he was still holding onto her. She felt herself start to change and allowed it. Soon, a circle of fire surrounded them and the two curtains. When the black one was near enough, she struck out at it...
BAM.