Title: Come Starlight

Summary: The Committee for Extraordinary and Unprecedented Magical Achievements has decided to grant Harry Potter one Wish.

Pairing: Harry/Sirius (Yes, his godfather, I'm well aware!)

Rating: M/R

Warnings: Slash. EWE. Angst.

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. May she be granted every Wish she makes.

A/N: After years in the LotR realm, this is my very first HP fic. I've read and loved many, but not nearly every one around so I can only hope I'm not by accident using ideas already explored.

I've stayed very faithful to the books but I'm – oops! - ignoring the (in)famous Epilogue. This means Harry/Ginny implied but, for the sake of the argument, let's say that Sirius did not appear in the Forbidden Forest when Harry used the Resurrection Stone.

The lines in italics opening and closing Chapter One are taken directly from The Deathly Hallows, chapter 36, The Flaw in the Plan.

Finally, I really hope you enjoy this!

* Come Starlight *

Chapter One – The Wish

And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backwards, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upwards. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse...

Then gone were the broken walls of the Great Hall, and the mass of students, teachers and family members. Gone was also the form of Voldemort, flung into the air as the Killing Curse rebounded on him; and Harry was standing in a small room. The white light that seemed to emanate from the walls, the floor and the ceiling was different from the golden haze at King's Cross, and he knew without checking that Dumbledore was nowhere nearby.

He felt oddly detached from his own body and senses. He had defeated Voldemort, had seen him die at last, and yet he knew no joy. At the most, he was mildly curious.

"State you full name, please."

Harry would have reeled backwards when the tiny, elderly witch appeared before him, had he not discovered that he was practically glued to the shining white floor when he attempted just that. She seemed to hover in mid-air with her silvery-blue robes flowing about her, but then he realised she was standing atop a high stool. Her short curls were as grey as Umbridge's but softer; in fact, her whole appearance was softer, and she was smiling at him.

"I'm sorry?" he croaked, relieved at least, that he had not lost his ability to speak.

"State you full name, please," she repeated.

"Um... Harry James... Potter," he said, and no more had he done so before a piece of parchment and a silver quill had materialised in the air before her face.

"Ah, yes!" She scanned the parchment before lowering it and looking up. "And your deed, sir?"

"My deed?"

"Yes, why are you here?"

He glanced around but the room had not changed in the slightest and all the white light gave him no clue whatsoever. "Where am I exactly?"

Utter confusion passed across her face before she suddenly brightened. "Of course! Mr Potter you must forgive me." She leaned in a little and smiled, "I forget that we are unknown to most of the wizarding kind. And to the Muggles," she added as an afterthought. Then she pulled herself up and tapped the parchment with her quill. "Now, what would you say that you were doing right before you found yourself here?"

Harry stared at her. "I, well..." Flashes of the battle rose before his eyes. Mrs Weasley had killed Bellatrix, the curse went straight for her heart and the most faithful of Death Eaters was history.

He had spun circles upon the floor with Voldemort; they had taunted each other, Harry thinking, hoping, knowing that he had the upper hand, but also praying that there would be no more surprises. Their respective curses had crashed against each other and Voldemort was vanquished by a mere 'Expelliarmus'.

The witch was looking at him expectantly and Harry swallowed. "I, um, defeated Lord Voldemort."

At this, the floor beneath him seemed to shake. The Prophecy, the path Dumbledore had staked out for him, his mother's sacrifice, all the long years spent at Privet Drive, the Order... even every Chocolate Frog he had ever eaten seemed like a part of a greater scheme, and his thoughts grew tangled as the circles of time itself closed in on him.

The tiny witch, however, seemed completely unaffected by his announcement. Another parchment had materialised in her hand and she was eyeing this new one most intently. After a few moments' heavy silence she nodded and smiled at him again. "Excellent."

When he could think of nothing to say she turned back to her perusing of what he supposed were notes and made a few additions with her quill. "Well, then, Mr Potter," she said finally, "it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been granted one Wish by The Committee for Extraordinary and Unprecedented Magical Achievements. It is advisable to thoroughly consider the options before stating your Wish."

"A wish?" Harry echoed her, slowly but steadily losing his grip on what was happening. Meeting Dumbledore at King's Cross had, in a weird way, made sense to him, whereas this was becoming more and more odd.

"One Wish, yes." There was something maternal about the way she was regarding him. "I dare say you deserve it," she added with a twinkle in her eyes that Harry noticed were the same silvery-blue as her robes. "And while you think, let me be the first to congratulate you on defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Er... thanks," said Harry weakly. He tried to gather his wits. "What are those options you mentioned?"

Seemingly pleased that he was catching on at last, she glanced down at her notes again. "The Committee grants personal Wishes," she said matter-of-factly, "meaning that you cannot, unfortunately some argue, Wish for an end to mass starvation or the happiness and well-being of friends and relatives, for example. The Wish must be intimately tied to your person, Mr Potter."

"It will only benefit me?" Harry asked, in an attempt to establish the boundaries of something he was not sure he believed in.

She smiled again. Indeed she seemed to do little else. "I am sure your happiness will spill over on to your loved ones," she said.

"But it cannot include another person?"

"It could..." A small crease appeared between her grey brows. "I think, Mr Potter, that I shall have to hear your Wish first to proclaim it valid. This is somewhat of a grey area, this additional person business. The Committee has discussed it for years but still the old rule stands: your Wish must, first and foremost, benefit you, as you yourself so astutely phrased it."

Even in his current state of confusion, a few specific thoughts came to him. He thought of Ginny, of all the long months of terror they had spent apart, and how he would like to ensure that their future – together? - was bright and joyful. Then the image of Mrs Weasley crying over Fred's lifeless body struck him like a blow. If only he could offer her some consolation.

And Lupin, and Tonks, who had left behind a newborn son. Teddy, who, just as Harry, had had his parents torn from him far, far too early in life. Teddy, too, needed love. And so did Neville... and his parents sentenced to lifelong madness by Bellatrix.

Then a wild thought sprouted somewhere in a dark, forbidden corner of his mind. It was almost as if he could feel the Resurrection Stone, cold and dreadfully enchanting in his hand again. His heart picked up an unsteady rhythm and he had to fight to keep his voice even and devoid of excitement.

"You couldn't... bring back people from the dead?" It was not how he had meant to phrase it, but the idea of his parents standing once more beside him, the possibility that he could have them back, was almost nauseating.

Compassion bloomed in her eyes and he knew then that hope was lost. "I am sorry, Mr Potter, but the Killing Curse is final," she said gently.

It was. Had not he been told so a thousand times? And yet, in this moment he could think of nothing else he would rather wish for than to have Lily and James Potter restored to life. The shining white all around him suddenly seemed muted and dull.

"I suppose I'll just wish for happiness then," he muttered, not knowing when exactly he had decided to play along. But not even the thought of Ginny could conquer the despair that had begun to weave around his heart. He had, if not killed Voldemort, at least made sure his existence had been extinguished and if that was not enough to get his parents back, then nothing would be. A part of him argued that he could not have been so stupid as to think that anything could indeed revive the dead, but the voice was feeble in the face of a new, hitherto unknown, wave of grief that passed through him.

"Mr Potter," the witch said, still gently, "I would advise you to not throw away this Wish..."

"Happiness won't benefit me?" he challenged in a voice that had gone slightly rough.

"Oh, it will, I am sure," she said quickly. "But it is such a broad term. Consider instead what would make you truly happy." She smiled encouragingly at him.

"What would make me 'happy'?" Bitterness leaked into his words unbidden. "I've seen too many people die, people that would have made me happy had they lived on, but they are gone and you can't bring them back!"

She stood unmoved by his explosion, her soft gaze fixed on him.

"My parents... Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Mad-Eye..." The names spilled from his lips like a mantra. "Sirius."

Sirius. He snorted. Sirius who had not even come to him when he turned over the Resurrection Stone in the Forest. No, perhaps his godfather had not cared, after all. Had realised Harry was indeed not James and had decided to stay away as the final battle drew close. Harry had chosen not to fight, had chosen to surrender and that was not Sirius' way. Had not Hermione once said that–

"Sirius Black?" The witch was running her quill down a new piece of parchment that had appeared in her hand.

"Yeah," muttered Harry through the pointless rage that had claimed him. "What about him?"

"He's on the list," she beamed at him. "Tell me, what was your relationship with him?"

"He was my godfather."

"Ah, so he was." She gave him a conspiratorial wink. "I've got it all here, I only need you to verify it first."

"Right," he growled. Then his eyes shot to her face. "What list?"

She looked astoundingly pleased. "On the list of people possible to Return."

The ensuing silence lowered itself upon him; it was so heavy Harry was sure he had stopped breathing. The witch had resumed her previous expression of patient expectation.

If anything, this room had turned Harry into a parrot. "People possible to return?"

"To Return, Mr Potter," she corrected him. "To life. It is believed that his Return would bring you much joy."

The idea penetrated Harry's mind at an alarmingly slow pace. "You could bring back Sirius?" he asked finally, his voice steeped in so much incredulity that she should have been deeply offended. As it were, however, she only kept smiling. "But you said..."

"I said that the Killing Curse was final, Mr Potter. According to my records here, your godfather, Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, fell through the Veil in the Chamber of Death at the Ministry of Magic some two years ago. Is that correct?"

Struck numb, Harry could only nod, but when she seemed to prefer a verbal confirmation, he forced out a 'yes' in a voice that sounded nothing like his own.

"The Veil... the Veil..." she mumbled as she reached out for yet a new parchment and scanned it. "Here we are! Yes, no... Department of Mysteries... Oh, dear..."

Harry truly did not breathe now. There was something stirring in him that he had not allowed himself to acknowledge for what felt like an eternity. As though his life depended on it, he kept his eyes fastened upon the tiny witch, whose mutterings had somehow replaced his need for air.

She frowned as she read on. "Dark, very dark... Removed from life. Have I not told them–" With an annoyed shake of her head she grew silent. Then there was a flicker of something bright in her blue eyes and she lowered the parchment to look Harry directly in the eye. "Not final."

It was as though he had been waiting for these exact words for as long as he had lived. Harry opened his mouth to speak but no words came.

She appeared to have understood him, however, because she smiled. "Yes, Sirius Black can be Returned." Before he could make any type of response, she went on. "It is my duty to inform you though, Mr Potter, that it is very likely, if not guaranteed, that the bond you once shared with Mr Black will change once he has Returned. It seems to be the general rule."

Surely it was a game? A cruel game, or a dream? Harry stared at her and tried to identify the crack in the façade where he could slip through and forget.

"Mr Potter?" She looked a tad worried at his obvious lack of excitement.

"But he's dead."

"Ah." Her smile was back. "Yes, anyone would think so. Even the Ministry records such unfortunate events as 'deaths' because there really is no way of calling back those poor souls that have fallen through the Veil–"

"But then–"

"Except by making a Wish," she pressed on, "granted by our Committee."

In the back of his head, he heard Ron's voice loud and clear: Harry, mate, this is mental. Get yourself out of here!, but he could not. Not only did he find it impossible to move, but he also knew that if there was the slightest chance of Sirius coming back, he would seize it, no matter how unbelievable it was.

"How would the bond change?" he heard himself asking above Ron's chanted warnings.

"I think you can expect it to intensify. Admittedly, we very rarely find ourselves granting Wishes and so sadly this is a field in which we've had the opportunity of doing very little research."

"How do you mean 'intensify'?"

She sifted through her records. "You were close before he, um, died, as it is so brutally put?"

"Yeah... He was like..." A father? A friend? Dumbledore had observed, while the old Headmaster still lived, that the roles had sort of become blurred and not even Harry could say for certain what Sirius had been to him. "Yeah, we were close."

"Then surely you will be even closer after his Return." A fifth parchment materialised in her hand. Her eyes wandered over it and she nodded, apparently confirming her own assumptions. "Yes... Between the Returned and the Wishmaker, a new link is forged... Unable to predict its nature... And the rest is speculations, I'm sorry to say."

Ron's voice had stopped screaming somewhere along the way and all went very quiet. Harry did not want to wake up, did not want to return, himself, to Hogwarts, to see Voldemort's lifeless body thrown on to the floor. He wanted to remain in this place, where Sirius was proclaimed not dead, only 'removed from life'.

If there was the slightest chance...

"I Wish," he said then, as though the choice had been made for him, his voice clear and steady, "that Sirius Black may be Returned to life."

She was beaming again. "An excellent Wish, Mr Potter."

… and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

TBC

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