Aaaannnnnd now that I'm finally done with finals, I can continue this strange little story! Hope you enjoy.
Harry was too astounded to ask the obvious question straight away. He stared at Sirius for a full minute, slack-jawed, before he slapped himself. When the pain dulled, he was left with the same impossible image, staring him in the face, wearing the biggest grin Harry had ever seen.
As far as questioning went, Arthur was slightly more useful than Harry. He stared and stared, moving his jaw up and down, making gasping noises or feeble attempts at words. Thus far, "You…she….here….mah…muh…." was his most coherent sentence.
Sirius bent down and picked up an oddly shaped black cloth. He shook it out, set it on the floor, and put his guitar inside. Zipping it up, he straightened, slung the guitar case onto his back, and draped each of his arms over Harry's and Arthur's shoulders.
"Let's get out of here, shall we? That Veil is giving me the creeps."
When they were a safe distance from the Ministry, Harry found his voice.
"Sirius, what the hell was that?"
"What the hell was what?"
Sirius was still grinning, the sunlight shining on his dark hair. "Just…walking out of the Veil. I didn't even think that was possible."
"It's not," Arthur chimed in. "They call it the Veil of Death for a reason. Because when you walk into it, you die. Hence, the Veil of Death."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." When Arthur gave him a puzzled look, Sirius laughed. "I met some American Muggles on the other side. Fun blokes. You'd like them."
Harry bit his lip. The thought of Sirius dying, let alone coming back from the dead, made his insides squirm. "But…..Sirius….Dumbledore said there wasn't a spell for raising the dead."
"'Course there isn't."
"So….how are you even here?"
For the first time since exiting the Veil, Sirius' smile fell, and he sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. All I remember is music."
"Music?" Arthur asked.
Sirius nodded. The Ministry was now blocks behind them and they were strolling through London traffic. It seemed to Harry that his godfather had no destination in mind; simply wandering was enough. "It was strange, though. The music. I….I've never heard anything like it."
A wistful smile touched Arthur's lips. "Was it beautiful?"
Sirius laughed. "Merlin, no. It sounded like a werewolf trying to shout over one of those Muggle construction sites." Then, turning thoughtful: "Reminded me of when Peter, James and I got Remus to sing in our band, actually."
"Huh," was all Harry could say.
They walked a few more blocks in silence. Suddenly, Sirius perked up. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"The music! If I didn't know better…." He let his arm slip from Harry's shoulder, and then broke into a run. Harry, not knowing what else to do, ran after him, shouting his name. Sure enough, a block later, oddly familiar music reached his ears.
Take your time, hurry up
The choice is yours
Don't be late, take a rest
As a friend
As an old memoria
Harry glanced at Arthur, and was relieved to see he heard it too. A look of utter bewilderment had crossed his face—whether from the sound of growling guitars or the singer's growling voice, Harry wasn't sure.
Come, doused in mud
Soaked in bleach
As I want you to be
"What the hell is he talking about?"
"I….I think I know this song!" Harry said.
As a trend, as a friend
As an old memoria
Memoria
Sirius, meanwhile, had shifted into his dog form and was bounding through the crowd. Arthur pushed his way through the growing mass of people.
And I swear that I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
A girl with dark brown hair glared at Arthur as he pushed past her. "What are these Muggles so excited about, anyhow?"
Harry shook his head as several voices caught his ear: "No, it can't be him."
"Come on, it sounds just like him!"
"No, it doesn't. And even if it did, it couldn't be Kurt. He's dead."
Memoria, memoria
And I swear that I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
The name—the music—the word gun—all four seemed to pounce on Harry's mind at once, fighting to jog his memory. He had heard the name before—but where?
No, I don't have a gun
Somewhere in the midst of the crowd, Sirius had resumed his human form. As Harry pushed ahead to catch up with his godfather, he glimpsed the singer: a man with stringy blond hair, wearing a red flannel shirt and torn jeans, strumming a guitar as he sang. Harry stopped in his tracks.
No, I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
"I know who he is!"
Arthur had finally fought his way to Harry's side. "Well, who is he? We've made all this fuss, you might as well tell me who he is!"
Memoria, memoria
"It—he—he looks like Kurt Cobain."
"Who?"
"Muggle singer," Harry cried as the music ground to a halt. "But it can't be him—he died three years ago!"
"Sirius died two years ago—what's your point?"
Harry was trying to frame a response when the singer who looked like Kurt suddenly grinned. "I was wondering when you'd show up," he said. His accent was American—but that proved nothing. American accents were easy to fake.
"You called me back," Sirius said. "That song—it brought me back."
Kurt-but-probably-not-Kurt laughed and clapped Harry's godfather on the back. "It's been a long time, Sirius. I've missed you."
WHAT? Why is Kurt Cobain suddenly alive? Is it a trick of Voldemort's? Or is it really the father of grunge? How does he know Sirius? Is his music really magic? Why am I asking YOU all these questions? Stay tuned for the ridiculous answers!