Not Letting Go

—X—X—X—

If he was to spend eternity anywhere, he teared up a bit as he thought, he could certainly do worse.

Looking on, he faltered as he noticed something leaning against the wall, near the fireplace and on the far side of his couch, was-

He blinked stupidly for a moment, not believing his eyes, he must be imagining it...

He squinted hard, shook his head, and felt his heart start racing and his breath shudder before he opened his eyes once more.

It couldn't be… Could it?

"Sirius?" He whispered hoarsely, his voice nearly failing him.

—X—X—X—

His godfather's grey eyes looked older and more worn than they had that night at the Department of Mysteries, but they no less smiled and sparkled slightly with tears in the flickering firelight. Slowly, Harry's only tangible connection to his true family smiled handsomely at him and shifted from his spot - leaning, relaxed and casual, against the wall by the fire and made his way towards Harry.

Harry didn't care how ridiculous he looked… He ran with all the speed he could muster before leaping the last few feet and wrapping his godfather in a hug as tears streamed from his face. He felt pure, unfiltered joy at the sight of his godfather. A sort of joy he'd only ever felt briefly when he'd thought he'd be able to live with Sirius, just a few years earlier.

Sirius hugged him back warmly and kissed the top of his head before they separated.

"Ahh, my pup…" Sirius said, his voice wracked with emotion. "I wasn't supposed to be seeing you again for a long while."

Harry nodded slowly in understanding, tears still in his eyes "So… So, this is it then? I'm dead?"

Sirius regarded him wearily, saying nothing.

A moment passed.

"I don't understand." Harry said looking askance as he indicated a window near them, showing only opaque foggy-white instead of the grounds of his true home, "Where is this and why am I here? Why are you here? Er… not that I'm not thrilled to be seeing you."

"I am sure you have many questions, Harry. Why don't we sit down here and have some tea, and I'll do what I can to answer some of them."

Sirius motioned behind them, and Harry noted with a furrowed brow that there was now suddenly tea service for two along with still-steaming warm muffins, butter, and jam on the coffee table that had most certainly been vacant mere moments ago. Fresh muffins were his favorite – when they were just subtly crisp on the outside, and hot and a bit doughy on the inside. Plenty of good butter and strawberry or raspberry jam just made matters better.

The distinct aroma of one of his favorite English Breakfast Tea blends filled his senses pleasantly as he made his way over to the couch.

"Where would you like to begin?" Sirius asked carefully. He seemed somewhat hesitant as he settled in a couple feet from Harry and turned to face him while they both tucked into afternoon tea.

"Well… " Harry thought carefully for a moment. He was desperately curious about so many things, and it was hard for him to prioritize them. He also wasn't quite ready to speak candidly about the fact that he had so recently died.

"How about we start with this place? Why is it so foggy out there… and where are we, really?" Harry settled onto his first questions and started to idly spread butter on a warm muffin.

"Quite observant of you, pup." Sirius replied with a twinkle in his eye that would have made Dumbledore proud. "Cutting right to the quick then, are we? I'd expect nothing less of Lily's son. Those two excellent questions are related in a… complicated way and will require a bit of background information you don't currently have to understand properly."

He had split a muffin in half and applied a bit of butter and a liberal portion of strawberry preserves to one side, and took a moment to down a bite, chased with a sip of tea.

"The fog, you see – tells us something about where we are located. But the room we're in might be the best place for us to start."

Harry was not sure what to make of the oblique answers he was getting so far but decided against vocalizing it.

Sirius continued "I'd wager this room, or the one just like it, was one of your most beloved places in all the world. It was the place you felt most at home, and the place – most importantly – you felt most yourself… Am I far off in that assessment?

Harry thought seriously about it for a minute.

He'd certainly never really felt "at home" in his home with the Dursleys.

He had thought of The Burrow as his true home ever since his first time there, just before second year. But, even there, and while he did consider the Weasleys to be the closest thing he had to blood relatives, there was always so much bustle and chaos. Not that it was a bad thing, it was so very "The Weasley's" after all, and he did love them dearly. He had always felt wholly and completely welcome there, but he also felt like he could never quite fully relax. As he thought it, he was glad Molly and Arthur never heard him relay that sentiment, they'd be hurt by that… It was simply hard to feel fully at home as a guest in someone's house.

Considering his surroundings, he confirmed with a nod that Sirius was bang on in his summary. This room, the Gryffindor common room, was the place he most truly felt at home. He could relax and be himself here, he had real and true friends here, and the crown jewel was that he had a place just up the stairs that was his and nobody else's while he spent time in the castle.

"Yeah Sirius, I think this is the only place I ever had where I was able to truly relax and be myself. I think Grimmauld Place might be a close second, but it was the Order headquarters, and I always felt a bit like a pawn there - unless it was just the two of us." Harry said with a soft smile toward the end.

Sirius frowned only slightly but nodded. "I think it might be best for me to tell you something about myself before I answer your other question." He said, matter-of-factly.

"Before I explain the fog, it's important for you to understand me. And more so what exactly happened to me that night at the ministry."

Harry was paying remarkably close attention now and felt a surge of pain at the memory of Sirius drifting through the veil in that strange stone room. He never wanted to see or honestly think of that place again.

"You see, while I can assure you in every traditional sense of the word, I did truly die that night. My soul, my essence, was removed from my body never to return." he said stoically.

Exhaling slowly, and with a wavering voice he continued "And I am so truly sorry that you were there to witness it."

Before Harry could get out a response about how it was his fault Sirius had been there at all he was cut off.

"But the veil is not meant for mortal men and women… It is indeed death in the sense that I'm no longer inhabiting a physical body, but it is not a proper death, not natural – at least not yet – in a sense that I'm allowed to move on to whatever my reward may be."

Harry blinked a few times. "You mean, you're stuck in a sort of limbo?" Harry asked, not even attempting to mask the dread in his voice.

"That is one way to think of it Harry, but don't you worry. It's not quite as dire as you seem to be assuming." He reached out to clasp his godson on the shoulder briefly before continuing. "You may notice that my dashing good looks are perhaps a bit faded since last we saw each other… I am indeed still aging here and am all but certain that when my time comes, I will move on as would normally occur had I taken a killing curse, or been stabbed, or died of old age, or met any other sort of end aside from that veil."

"So, you're stuck here to grow old and die alone?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Not entirely alone, Harry." Sirius said with a marauder's grin that let Harry know there was a host of other information he was not privy to and may never be.

"And that brings me to the fog outside, Harry. Before I continue, I need to know that you're at least in some sense calm and ready to hear something that might be a bit of a shock to you."

"Well, calm is not quite the first thought that comes to mind, but I'm settling in ok I think." Harry thought aloud.

The fire burned a bit brighter in the wall, crackling merrily.

"Ok then Harry. Honestly, I'm surprised that you ended up here at all, in this "in between" where I had the ability to get to you. That veil is a curious artifact, and I've learned some rather interesting things about it. But most importantly for us now, it does tell us that you are not exactly, entirely, 'dead'… At least not yet."

Sirius looked ruefully at the fireplace, which was decidedly not burning as vigorously as it had been just a moment ago.

"The veil, this place I inhabit, is not a place for the truly dead Harry. It is a place for those transitioning between the natural phases of existence… I believe your dying mind created this safe harbor of a construct – this facsimile of the common room here – as a means to facilitate your peaceful transition to whatever comes next. Which is to say, I believe, this is all in your mind."

"So… none of this is real? You're not… real?" Harry asked, with fear rising in his voice.

Now, the fire was winding down. Still going, but in need of a good stoking if it was to stay alight for more than a few more minutes.

"I am as real as I possibly can be Harry. Remember what I told you earlier. I am indeed me, and I have shared with you information that you could not have possessed on your own. Being in this place truly challenges one's definition of the word "real." Here, perception and experience matter every bit as much as reality. Metaphors and notions can take actual form."

He paused and got the impression, looking at the dazed look on Harry's face, that he wasn't quite grasping things properly.

Changing his tack, Sirius thought to provide an example.

"For instance, when this fire burns itself out and the light fades, I believe your time here will come to an end." Sirius smiled, "You will be reunited with your parents, Harry. Your parents and all the other's you've lost along the way."

"This fire isn't a fire at all, but a representation of your waning hold on this fleeting place."

Harry's eyes welled up with tears at the thought, and for a moment the light of the flames dimmed noticeably. "I- I can't yet Sirius, I wasn't near done. I had so much ahead of me. A life free of Death Eaters, free of Voldemort. A life with friends who care for me, where I don't have to live with the bloody Dursleys." Harry's face colored slightly, and he continued "Sirius, I think I'm in love with Hermione…"

The fire surged back to life.

"I thought that was quite clear the night you two rescued me four years ago." He said with a sad smile. "Now, I'm almost certain that is an understatement."

Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Harry, while unwelcome – death is a natural process. It's the natural order of things. An indelible fact of the universe. When someone dies Harry, the drive to fulfill that calling – to move on, as it were – is overwhelming. It's not so much a force as a fact. It simply - is - what you do next." Sirius looked almost dumbfounded and smiled for a moment before continuing.

"That your connection – whatever feelings you hold for her - stood out as a beacon in that darkness, is something I'm not sure I'll ever truly understand. It should not have been possible. But what I can say, is that I'm certain the two of you would have been great together and I'd have loved to see it."

Harry felt a surge of pain at that thought, and his unstable magic crackled as it pulsed in the air around him.

The fire somehow rippled in the air with power at the same time, and had it been an actual fire, their spot on the sofa may not have been entirely safe for a moment.

"Emotion, Harry." Sirius said, by means of explanation "It's powerful in this place. Interestingly, one of the things I've learned here is that it is more entwined with one's magic than we'd ever figured out on the other side. And I suspect, that's not only true here." Sirius mused.

He sipped on some more tea before continuing. "It's obvious looking back that when you were upset or worked up or excited, it was easier to have a bit more power – perhaps even accidentally – end up in your casting. That is true here and even more apparent. In this state, Harry, we are far more connected to our emotions. Yours, though subconsciously, even created this lovely room for us to enjoy a spot of company before you move on."

Sirius looked sad, and his smile faded before he continued "But Harry my boy, you are indeed dying. I know it's difficult, but it's arguably the most natural thing in the world. It's best to accept it and continue forth. Your friends will do well, lead their lives, and eventually, you will see th-"

Sirius paused mid-sentence with a stunned look.

Harry heard a sound behind him.

Following Sirius' gaze, Harry turned a bit and looked over his shoulder.

He did so just in time to see the now apparently flaming wall across the room from them burn away, leaving a new passageway now clearly visible.

Sirius had an almost horrified look on his face as he looked back and forth from Harry to the newly formed passage.

The fire they were seated in front of nearly burst forth from the hearth.

Harry couldn't quite comprehend the implications that Sirius seemed to be so put off by.

Unless…

"Wait…" Harry whispered, a desperate sort of hope blossoming in his chest – near that warm feeling he was still pleasantly adjusting to, near her. "Does this mean I can go back if I choose to? I need to go back if I can Sirius." Harry pleaded, tears once again in his eyes.

"He… He bloody well killed me and that should mean that damned prophecy, I-… Maybe the part of Voldemort's soul that lived in my scar took the hit instead of me."

Sirius blanched at that. "The part of what now, Harry‽" he asked as clear alarm set into his face.

"Voldemort – that Halloween when… well, you know. He accidentally fractured his soul, and a piece of it latched onto me. It's all complicated but I think I can explain it all to- "

"No! Harry, I'd love to understand but I fear we don't have the time. It sounds like you may not be the only one here with a chance to go back to your body." Sirius' eyes shone with a stony intensity as he sprang up from the comfortable sofa and started rushing to the passage that seemed to lead to the rest of the castle.

Following frantically out of reflex, Harry accidentally spilled his tea onto the table as he flung himself off the couch to follow.

Sirius stopped at the entry to the passage. "Harry. Know always that I love you as my own son, and never wanted anything but the best for you. Never wanted any of the horrors you've been through to darken your door."

"I know Sirius. Really, I do. But, if I can manage my way through this, it might just all be worth it in the end. A life without Death Eaters, without Riddle. I hardly know the first thing about it, but maybe even…"

"Well go on then, son." Sirius said with a proud, sly smile. It seems he knew exactly what Harry couldn't quite say. "It's about time you came to that conclusion, really. I saw the way you two were together… And for whatever it may be worth in my current state, you've got by blessing. That witch seems rather perfect for you… Though, you do have a bit of a task ahead of you, and time is running out."

With a quick hug, Harry set off down the short passageway toward the portrait of the fat lady.

—X—X—X—

Making his way down the darkened passage, where he should have seen the door that was the back of the portrait guarding Gryffindor, He instead saw something that brought forth one of his most traumatic memories.

Around the spot that should have been the door, the passageway opened to a massive roughly hewn circular stone chamber that Harry recalled all too well as a cold shiver shot down his spine.

He was near an upper level of a massive stone amphitheater with stepped walls suitable for a crowd to gather on and sit. In its center was a tall and narrow stone archway, in the middle of which was slowly rippling thin white fabric.

It appeared, he was in the room where two years before, he'd fought Death Eaters and watched as Sirius had died.

There was a second shot of lightning down his spine as he noted a cloaked figure, further down than him, progressing toward the arch.

It seems there was still one last horcrux to destroy.

He really didn't want to ponder the implications of Voldemort being the first back through the veil.

Harry's magic was still unsettled though. Potent, and less controlled than it had been while he was properly alive. He had the thought to apparate but was hesitant because that required a good bit of control and finesse.

It didn't seem that Tom had quite noticed his presence. He might use that to his advantage.

Harry thought on it for a moment and his wand appeared in his hand. How did he know it would do that?

He always knew that magic was about intent, it was just so much easier to connect the wires in his head while he was in this place between worlds.

He grinned to himself.

Emotion he remembered Sirius explain…

Harry focused for a beat, and tapped into his fear, his anxiety, burning it up and shoving it into a spell.

"REDUCTO!" He bellowed, taking aim between the shoulder blades of the figure progressing down toward the archway.

An overcharged comet of rippling blue energy shot out the end of his wand. To his shock, it was nearly three times the diameter of the typical reductor curse, and seemed to almost track its target instead of firing in a straight line like a loosed arrow as it normally did.

The shadow of Tom Riddle turned its head suddenly at the screamed incantation, conjured a formidable, incredibly thick, rippling white shield and tried in futility to dodge the spell, all while somehow managing to send out a stunner.

As the spell met the shield, Harry squinted as he expected an incredible reaction. Instead, the spell tore through the shimmering white energy as though it were damp tissue paper, and connected squarely in the center of Tom's back, just above his shoulder blades.

The resultant conflagration was impressive, to say the least, and nearly blinding. It must have nearly shredded the one eighth of Tom Riddle's soul it was targeted at.

Unfortunately, he hadn't the time to get up a shield of his own, and the stunner he'd taken was also tracking, and it caught him hard on the left shoulder.

Pain burst into his perception, and he felt his entire left arm go limp and numb.

He could no longer see his attacker around the cloud of dust that had appeared because of the explosion he'd just cast.

Harry rushed down the stone steps as quickly as he could as his magic rippled around him, setting the hair on his arms on edge.

He proceeded through the cloud of dust now in the air and saw to his horror, a partially broken form slowly reassembling itself. As a matter of course, it had been blasted down and further toward the center of the room, and it was now slowly limping toward the arch.

Thoughts of what terrible things any potential "Harry, but not Harry" might do to the people he loved forced their way into his mind.

If that happened, it was all over.

He imagined Tom Marvolo Potter, infiltrating his entire life. That bit of soul had indeed been along for the entire ride. What would stop it from dissecting the Order effortlessly? With Harry's body it could easily get through the wards at Grimmauld, and the Burrow… He thought for a horrifying moment of what the ever-vindictive monster could do to mentally torment and tear down all his friends, his chosen family, the Weasleys.

Ice filled his veins as he realized, Tom was along for the ride in that storage room not too long ago…

No. Don't even dare to think about that.

He latched on to his love, his hope, and his caring nature… his protective desperation at the fact that this situation was still somehow a threat to the people, and the person, he cared most about.

"PROTEGO MAXIMA, DIFFINDO!" Harry instinctively rattled off an impressive one, two punch of spell work, first forming a web of force so potent it was a nearly physical barrier totally encircling the arch itself, then sending a quick but incredibly overpowered cutting spell at Voldemort's shade – but that was just a distraction to get him focusing on blocking the effort.

It worked.

Tom's wand hand blurred as the shade focused instantly on countering the six-foot-long white-hot blade of pure magic threating to bisect him just below the ribs, and Harry had his opening.

He tapped into his rage, his indignant fury, his pent-up wrath for this fraction of a soul that had been leeching off him his entire life. The soul that murdered his family, the soul that exposed him to the thoughts and mind of the darkest wizard in decades, the soul that had given him night terrors for the last several years.

"IMPEDIMENTA POTENS, INCARCERUS METALLICUM INCAENDIUM!" Harry bellowed. If the first one took, this was going to end perfectly, but somewhere in the distance he realized his head was hurting.

Badly.

Between and just above his eyes.

He just needed a bit of luck.

The diffindo winked out of existence as Tom's soul fragment countered it, just as the greater impediment jinx took hold, and his target froze like a grotesque statue, a monument to fear.

It was all but over.

Immediately after, the empowered incarcerus took hold – but instead of ropes as usual, metal cables slightly larger in diameter than Harry's thumbs sprang forth and tightly wound around their target. After a beat, they began to glow orange, then red, then white with heat. A special gift for the parasite on his soul and magic for the last 16 years.

It seemed fitting.

He focused on the screaming form wrapped in now white-hot metal cables and raised his wand once more.

As he was drawing together the banishing spell that would remove his fallen adversary from the center of the room, he faltered as white-hot agony bloomed anew between his eyes and he fell to his knees.

He felt the telltale symptoms of magical exhaustion grip him tightly and settled to make his exit without casting anything further. The amped up magic he'd previously cast would hold long enough for him to get where he needed to be.

Making his way down the final few sections of stepped slope to the dais and arch in the center, he managed to take a cold look at the entirely human visage of Tom Riddle. He wasn't struggling against his searing hot bonds anymore.

Tally one more for the good guys.

He checked his arm. It was still there, and his sensation was just barely starting to return.

Good.

Looking through the veil, he recognized the view, and it wasn't where he remembered being the last time he resided in his body. Also, he recalled well the vision he'd had of the sunrise, but in his view right now, it must have been nearly midday.

He'd apparently been dead for nearly 7 hours by his quick estimation. Though, it felt like only a short while here. He must have been in that void for longer than he realized. Or maybe time worked differently here.

He could see himself on the mortal side of the veil, arms flopping limply, as he was being carried by his first friend in the magical world. Harry set his jaw, furious and heartbroken at the sight that met him.

He would have to wait and choose his moment…

—X—X—X—

Let's burn a hole, so we can climb out
Of these paper walls, and this empty house.
Don't listen too close, their words are like guns.
With bullets that fly and kill what you've won.

Let's burn a hole, so we can climb out
Of these paper walls, and this empty house.

We're the only thing that's real.

These visions we have of ten years ago,
Of stars in the sky and us down below.
In streets and east coast lines,
We kept this scene alive.

Here I am, still hold on to this,
Dream we had, won't let go of it,
Hear me now, you will never be alone.

—X—X—X—

Track: Paper Walls

Album: Paper Walls

Artist: Yellowcard