Second update today, mostly because I just can't stay away from it.

Yes! Finally I'm here! This chapter is the entire reason I started writing this story in the first place. Other reasons have developed along the way, but after I finished the sixth book, I decided that this needed to happen. I hope you enjoy reading it, because I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 36

Beyond the Veil

The three of them stood there, wands out, Ron and Hermione very aware of the whisperings that seemed to come from the other side, and Harry completely lost in the memory of the last time he had seen this Veil.

"The spell," Hermione said after a few moments, "let's do it and get out of here."

"You're sure this will work?" Ron asked weakly.

Hermione shook her head. "I have absolutely no idea, and you know that," she said quietly. "Harry?"

"Mmm? Oh, sorry." He withdrew from his reverie, half with reluctance, half with relief.

"You know you're the one who has to do this because you're the only one who can really use your Inner Sanctum."

He nodded, taking a step forward and swallowing hard. "Walk me through it again."

"Cast the incantation into the Veil," she said, reassuringly laying a hand on his arm. "Let your magic take off with it, but don't let it come back. Use it to find what you're looking for."

"Will this kill me?" It was a morbid question, but he wanted to know the answer.

"Possibly," she answered, looking very apprehensive, "but I don't think so."

"Well," he said, clutching his wand slightly tighter, "let's hope this isn't one of those rare times that you're wrong. Move back."

Ron and Hermione obediently stepped off the dais. Harry summoned the incantation to the tip of his tongue.

It was an Evanescent spell, one that Hermione said meant "wonder" in Latin, and was supposed to be able to do amazing, extraordinary things. Like, Harry thought, calling back the dead.

Feeling his Inner Sanctum pooling within him, he took three deep breaths, squeezed his wand, and said in the most powerful voice he could muster, "Admiratio!"

He saw, as if in slow motion, the spell leave the end of his wand. It struck the black Veil right in the middle and went through without seeming to move it more than its usual fluttering.

Without warning, a wind picked up in the room and a harsh but muffled screaming sound whirled around them. Harry felt his robes flapping around his legs, felt some sort of sprit, an entity that did not belong in this world trying to force him through the Veil. He planted his feet and stood firm, wand still raised, and when he felt his magic trying to recede, he blocked it, refusing to let it settle back in his body. It whipped back out, flying through the time and space of the Other World, looking, prodding, ever searching but never finding.

They stood there, breathing hard, squinting against the wind, for what seemed like hours, though Harry was sure it was no more than a minute. The force grew, trying to suck him in through the Veil, which, despite the howling gale around them, only fluttered…

And then he struck something.

His magic told him it was solid, a very different shape than he had felt before in this World. The rest of it had been intangible, just streams of magic and thought and emotion. But now his magic hit something that was not part of the rest of the World.

And it was familiar.

With all the strength he could muster, he forced his magic to wrap around it, drawing it in. He felt exhausted, but he would not allow himself to collapse like his legs wanted to. He drew the form into his magic, and then he broke the barricade he had used to keep it out.

Like the water pounding, falling in torrents with the breaking of a dam, the magic came rushing back. He forced it to hold on to the thing he had grasped. It was nearly there.

Then the Other World started fighting back. It would not relinquish its grip on its captive. Harry yanked and tugged and pulled and refused to let go, but to no avail.

For a moment, it seemed as though the World would win, reclaiming the prize Harry had fought for. But then he thought of a face that he hadn't seen in a year and a half, a face that released a burst of energy that Harry poured into his struggle with the Other World.

And then it came free.

Harry stumbled back off the stone dais, stars erupting in his vision. The deafening wind that had picked up was receding, and blurred shapes moved above him, talking in low whispers, but he could not seem to move. Exhaustion claimed him, and for a moment, at least, he lost all consciousness.

When his eyes flickered open, two unfamiliar faces were leaning over him. He sat up, startling them both, and nearly vomited his breakfast all over the woman's robes, but his stomach seemed to have nothing to give. His vision focused, and after a moment, he regained his breath.

Then he remembered that Ron and Hermione had taken Polyjuice Potion, and it was really they who knelt beside him with anxious faces. Harry rubbed his eyes.

Then he noticed what was lying at his feet, halfway on the stone dais and halfway off it. A shaggy mass of black hair contrasted with a very pale, sweaty face, followed by tattered robes and a hand still gripping a wand.

"Sirius," Harry breathed.

With a surge of hope he hadn't allowed himself to feel since the end of his fifth year, he slowly, tremulously crawled towards the body. The face looked as pale as death, but shallow breaths wracked the bony frame.

"He's alive," he whispered.

Tears began streaming down his cheeks, tears of exhaustion and confusion and joy. "Sirius…"

Harry only half-remembered how they got out. It seemed that Hermione conjured a stretcher and levitated the still body onto it, and Ron supported Harry to the door and into the circular chamber. They tumbled out into the hallway, where they were about to call for help when Hermione remembered that their hour was almost up and they needed to take the other vial of Polyjuice potion. They had to help Harry with his; he was hardly strong enough to move.

Then there were wizards, calling to one another, urgent messages going out. People began congregating around the four people grouped around the open door of the Department of Mysteries: Kurt Hutchinson, Matilda Frond, David Hoffman, and… Sirius Black.

The last one, convicted mass murderer acquitted after his death, caused such a sensation that no one noticed the three Unspeakables slipping away, two of them supporting a third between them.