I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1

It was a pleasantly warm summer's day in Little Whinging, Surrey. Children of all ages frolicked in public swimming pools as their parents sipped ice cold drinks near the pool edge. Hardly a youth in the city was indoors on such a fine day. There was one notable exception.

In the smallest bedroom of the unremarkable house at Number 4, Privet Drive, sat a very remarkable young man staring blankly at his dented closet doors. A cage containing a beautiful snowy owl sat in the corner of the room, its occupant occasionally hooting balefully at her master. A trunk sat at the foot of the boy's bed, yet to be unpacked. This boy seemed to be in no mood to do anything but gaze into the distance and contemplate.

The boy was Harry Potter, fresh from his fifth year at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was also days after the death of his beloved Godfather, when he lead his friends into a trap designed by the darkest wizard in recent history. Days since he learned that he was destined to kill this Dark Lord, known by the moniker Lord Voldemort, or be killed in the process. But it was not of these very remarkable events that Harry was contemplating, but of something told to him by a very observant friend.

"They're just beyond the veil," Luna Lovegood had said, using her unusual insight to comfort him in his grief. There was just something that rang true about that simple statement of fact. Despite the fact that most of what Luna said was utterly bizzare and unbelievable, Harry took this on faith.

"Just beyond the veil," Harry repeated aloud to himself, startling his owl Hedwig. "He's just beyond the veil."

At this point, Harry had no concrete ideas, no plan to speak of. Half-formed concepts floated around his mind, tantalizing him. The pieces fit together, he knew it. He just couldn't put them together. Sirius wasn't dead, he was just trapped behind the veil. How to get him out without getting trapped himself, though, that was a problem. The solution was just out of reach, not quite congealed from the stew of his mind.

"Aaargh!" Harry stood up in frustration, kicking his trunk. "I need to know more! Hermione could figure this out, I know she could, I just need..."

He stopped dead, smacking himself in the forehead. "Hermione. How did I not think to ask her before now?"

The boy opened his trunk, rummaging through his worldly posessions, streaming clothes, books, and knick-nacks onto the floor. He emerged triumphantly clutching a handful of parchment, a gnarled quill, and a half-empty bottle of ink. Harry sat down at the rickety old desk that had once belonged to his cousin and began excitedly penning a letter.

Hermione

I know I shouldn't really ask you for anything, not after what happened at the Ministry. But I need your help. Luna said something to me before we left Hogwarts, and it's crazy but I just can't get it out of my mind. She told me that Sirius is just beyond the veil, and I know that Lupin thinks he's dead, and Dumbledore too, but I just can't accept that. There's just something profound about Luna's words that makes me believe they're true.

Harry stopped his frantic writing, and read what he had written. "I sound like a madman," he muttered to himself.

He began writing again, this time at a more measured pace.

Sorry, I know that makes me sound like I'm crazy, but I just have to know. I need to know more about that archway, and I don't know anyone who can figure out stuff like that better than you.

If you don't want to help, I'll understand. But I have to do this.

Harry

Harry rolled the letter up, unlatched his owl's cage, and tied the letter to her leg. "Go on, Hedwig. Take this to Hermione and wait for a reply." He walked over to the window, opening it and letting a blast of heat wash over his face. "Oh, and don't peck her this time," he remembered.

Watching Hedwig fly away into the clear summer sky, Harry sat back onto his bed. With a sigh, he realized that there was nothing more that he can do about that except wait for a reply.

Deciding that a nice walk might do him some good, Harry haphazardly repacked his stuff, shoving the battered trunk under the bed. He left the window open in case Hedwig returned before he did. Stopping at the fridge to get an apple (an attempt by his Aunt Petunia to make Dudley's diet more palatable), he stared outside the window where he knew a member of the Order of the Phoenix stood guard, invisible.

He cautiously moved outside, calling out for the guard. "Tonks? Mundungus? Professor Lupin? Mad-eye? Hello?"

After a beat, a shimmering figure appeared next to Harry, their disillusionment spell dropping. "Wotcher Harry," said a very sullen looking Tonks. Her hair, normally a vibrant pink, was limp and brown, and she had noticable bags under her eyes.

"Blimey, Tonks. Are you alright?" Harry asked, before cursing inwardly. Of course she wasn't, Sirius was her cousin and everyone believed he was dead.

She waved him off. "Oh, I'm alright. It's nothing, I'm just tired."

He scrutinized her for a moment, but decided to let it drop. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk to the park or something," he said before taking a bite of his apple. "I don't know about you, but I need to unwind."

She smiled, but it lacked her normal bubbly enthusiasum. "Sure, I'll go with you. I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't be terribly happy if I let you go off by yourself, would he?"

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Harry agreed. And with that, they began their walk.

Passing by several teenagers in swimsuits, they made their way to the local park. Harry sat down on one of the swings, idly swaying in the summer breeze, and started talking.

"You know, in every one of my encounters with Voldemort," Harry began, ignoring Tonks' involuntary shudder, "it's been luck, or running away really fast that's saved me. My skills with magic have very rarely helped. I need to get better, Tonks."

"That's bunk," she replied immediately. "You're plenty good at magic. You had a corporeal Patronus in your third year, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, I did, but a Patronus isn't going to help me beat Voldemort."

Tonks shuddered again, before looking at Harry oddly. "Why do you think it's up to you to beat him? Can't Dumbledore, or a team of Aurors, take care of that?"

Harry stopped, realizing he was perilously close to leaking the secret entrusted to him only days ago by Professor Dumbledore. "Maybe you're right," he spoke carefully, "but I don't think Voldemort is going to just let me go on."

"True enough," Tonks replied. "If you're thinking you need special magical training, it won't help. You-know-who is the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history. It would take decades to be able to match his skill in single combat."

"No," she continued, thinking out loud, "maybe you were right about spells not being the way to beat him."

"That's not what I said," Harry objected, but Tonks ignored him.

"Maybe you need some physical training, help you survive your next encounter," she gave him a genuine smile now. "I could probably help a bit, but you might think about enrolling in some physical activities over the summer. Sportsball, or something."

Harry laughed, a sharp barking sound that seemed out of place in the current atmosphere. "Sportsball?"

"Yeah, or fencing, or martial arts or something," she continued, oblivious to Harry's reaction.

Harry smothered another laugh. "Hmm, martial arts. Punching Voldemort seems like a good way to die," he mused, "but fencing could help. That needs lots of dexterity, right?"

Tonks nodded, pleased that her suggestion was being considered. "Yeah, and it should be good practice for later on, when you learn how to deflect curses with your wand."

"Hmm, I might look around for fencing lessons. I'm sure that someone around here is teaching it, right?" Harry asked, more to himself than to Tonks.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a very proud-looking snowy owl, a letter tied to her leg. Harry looked up at Hedwig, extending his arm for her to land on, and took the letter carefully. "That was surprisingly quick," he remarked.

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked.

"Oh, it's just that I sent the original letter less than half an hour ago," he replied, unrolling the parchment.

Dear Harry

I am your friend, before the Ministry, and after the Ministry. Don't ever feel like you can't ask me for something, do you hear me? I will always help you, as will the rest of your friends. So if you ever need anything, just ask, okay? I'm here for you, as is Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. I know that none of us blame you for anything that happened at the Ministry.

That being said, I'm not sure that it's healthy for you to be dwelling on this. I was reading "A Foray into Developmental Psychology" by Dr. Cameron Milner (a welcome-back gift from my family) and apparently it's not healthy to stay in denial of such a loss for long. Despite Luna's good intentions, you must admit she has a penchent for believing her overactive imagination. She is truly very nice, and I'm sure she believes what she said, but I don't think it's rooted in anything more than superstition. Remember, just because something sounds profound doesn't mean it's true.

I've told my parents a little of what happened, and they agreed that it's best that you are around your friends for now. So, I want to extend an invitation for you to visit me at my home. The address is 294 Rossmo Lane, in London. Owl back if you can make it, and don't worry about disturbing me. I'm basically just sitting in my room doing Professor Snape's essay - have you started on that, by the way?

I will help you however I can. If you'd like, we'll go visit Diagon Alley's magical library when you come to my house (though visiting that library is quite expensive, on the order of 30 galleons). If any information on the archway is accessable, it would be found there.

Awaiting your reply anxiously,

Hermione

"I'm not in denial," Harry denied, before clearing his head with a shake. "Hey Tonks, could we make a trip to Diagon Alley? I need to get some gold."

Tonks shook her head. "Sorry, probably not on such short notice. I can mention it to Bill though, he could withdraw some for ya. How much do ya need?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I think I'll need three hundred galleons," he said, wanting to leave a large margin.

Tonks blinked. "Cor, Harry. What are you planning on doing, buying a new broom?"

"Nah, just need some spending money, and want to make sure I don't run out. Oh, and I need some muggle money too. Maybe five hundred pounds to be safe."

Harry stood up, urging Hedwig back to Number 4 Privet Drive, and beckoned to Tonks. "Come on, it seems I have a reply to write."

Hermione

Thanks for the offer, I'd love to visit you. I'll bring some money so we can go to this library (I'm sure that you're chomping at the bit to get a look inside). We don't have to spend the whole time doing that research either, if you want to do other reading or something.

I know that Luna doesn't always make perfect sense, but she's pulled through when we needed her before. You didn't believe her about the Thestrals, and they certainly managed to take us to London without much of an issue.

Tonks has recommended that I find some sort of swordfighting class to take over the summer, to improve my dexterity and help my chances of survival against Voldemort. I also think that maybe we could learn some spells together (the theory only, bleck) to help with that. Maybe we could even take the swordfighting class together!

As for Snape's essay, he only accepts students who got an O on their OWLs, and I'm pretty sure I didn't get that good. Which means that I don't have to do it!

See you soon,

Harry

Professor Dumbledore

Hermione has invited me to visit her home in London, and I was wondering if I could go. The Dursleys have already agreed that I can go, on the condition that they don't have to drive me or anything.

I await your reply,

Harry

Having written his letters, Harry tied one to each of Hedwig's legs, giving her an owl treat.

"Take this to Hermione, and then this one to Dumbledore," he told his owl. She stared at him for a moment, before affectionately nipping at his finger.

As Hedwig flew out the window once more, Harry looked around the room for something, anything to do. With a sigh, he picked up a bent junior golf club that Dudley had broken years ago, and gave it an experimental swing. The club felt surprisingly light in his hands, but the swooshing sound it made was quite satisfying.

Harry spent several minutes swinging the club around carefully, pretending to be wielding a blade and imagining the look on Voldemort's face as he gets his head chopped off. Finally, Harry had enough of that nonsense, and put down the club. He left the house without a word to his aunt and uncle, who both ignored his brief presence, and started walking towards the local public library.

The identical houses became a blur to Harry as he passed by, not paying attention to the perfectly manicured lawns and sculpted gardens. Passing by two children out biking, a man washing his shiny new black car, and a child's unattended lemonade stand, he arrived at the Rosewell Public Library.

The library was a large white building with peeling paint, dirty windows, and a damaged sign on the door read "open". Giving the door a push, Harry entered the dingy underfunded library.

Immediately he was greeted with the smell of dust. Clearly this library was not used much by the citizens of Little Whinging. At the chipped mahogany desk near the front sat a woman with a green scarf and a pair of gaudy spectacles. She gave a fake cough ("Hem-hem") which immediately set Harry on edge.

"Can I help you, young man," she began, not unkindly, "or are you going to stand in the doorway all day?"

Harry tried to be polite. "Sorry, yeah. I'm looking for some books," he trailed off, realizing how stupid he sounded. "Specifically books about magic, alchemy and stuff."

She gave him a smile, and pointed to the far corner of the small library. "Fantasy's right on that shelf. Nothing much there, I'm afraid," she said wistfully. "There was a real push recently against that sort of thing. Stuff that got blown way out of proportion."

Harry nodded politely, not really interested in the local politics of such little significance. "Thanks," he said, moving to the shelf in question.

He browsed through their tiny collection. Several titles looked interesting, but ultimately unhelpful. He found a treatise of the magic used in some of the Arthurian tales, a rulebook for a magic game with a demon idol on the front, and a book published warning of the dangers of using unholy spells, but nothing he could use to learn about the Veil.

"Dunno why I expected differently," Harry muttered to himself, "gotta wait till tomorrow to find actual information I guess."

Back in his room, Harry grinned at the response he had just recieved from Dumbledore. It was simple and to the point.

I shall arrive at 10:00 AM sharp. Be ready.