Beyond The Veil

"Not everyone can come back as a ghost... He will not come back," repeated Nick quietly. "He will have... gone on." My idea of Sirius's final adventure. It's ponderous and inspired in part by "Our Town."

------a thousand apologies to JK Rowling and Thornton Wilder.

I haven't read this old story since I wrote it, two years ago, and now that I revisit it a week before book 6's release, I realize that it was pretty good! But needs a bit of editing. So if you read this before, don't get excited, I'm not adding anything, I'm just fixing a couple blatant errors that are annoying me

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…

And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.

He caught his balance before he fell. Sirius stepped widely to steady his footing and, stooping to scoop up his fallen wand, pivoted to re-face Bellatrix. The floor felt unexpectedly cool, almost springy, against his knuckles. With a spell on his lips he turned to Bellatrix.

But she wasn't there.

Sirius spun around, nonplussed. He was alone. A muddy dark muted his senses, featureless shadows as though he had closed his eyes in a brightly lit room. He groped ahead of him, expecting to feel his fingers clutch the ragged black curtain behind which he had evidently stumbled. But ten paces, surely more than sufficient, brought him no closer to the archway.

"Remus?" he queried. He tried louder. "Remus! Moody! HARRY!"

Something stirred behind him. Sirius squinted and through the gloom perceived great rising platforms, like the stone steps of the room he had just left, only far more vast. A cool breeze tickled the back of his neck.

Sirius walked cautiously to the base of the first level. Black chairs, neatly arranged five rows deep, extended as far right and left as he bothered to look. In each chair dozed a man or woman, sleeping curiously still and upright despite the rigid chairs. Their faces were calm and unlined. Sirius shivered, feeling the ancient air settle around him. He somehow knew that these people had been sleeping here for a very long time, and would remain so for a very long time. Sirius approached the first row.

He expected the man's shoulder to feel like a statue against his tentative hand, perhaps with a thin film of dust. Instead, the warm body shuddered and stirred under his hand.

"Whozzat?" muttered the man thickly.

"Excuse me, I didn't mean… to disturb…"

The old wizard cracked open one eye and evaluated Sirius coolly.

"A new 'un, eh? Whadja doin' down this end?"

"I'm sorry?"

The head nodded towards the indeterminate darkness above and behind him.

"Ain't no vacancies down here," he said with a sleepy chuckle. "Try a' top." And with that he returned to his previous dozing state.

Sirius looked at the man for another moment before beginning his ascent. There were many more platforms than he had thought, an impossible number, each with its requisite five long rows of motionless sleepers. The chairs were spaced just wide enough for Sirius to stride through. The only sound was Sirius's own heart, beating at a comfortable, lazy pace, although he had now been running for a while. He could no longer see the floor where he had begun, nor could he see the top ahead of him. Sirius did not know how long he had been running through these dark rows, and had someone asked, he probably would not have been able to recall where he was going, nor having ever been anywhere else.

Quite abruptly he reached the final platform. The occupants of these chairs were vaguely familiar to Sirius, as though he had once seen them in a dream. He felt a curious sensation; the sight of these faces was registering in some deeper part of his soul, without translating fully to his tired brain.

There was an empty chair in the first row. Sirius walked slowly towards it. To the left of the chair dozed a younger man with unruly black hair. Sirius half wanted to run over to the man and shake him awake with a great embrace, but the idea flickered out as he approached the empty chair. He turned to take his seat.

As he did so, he spotted something that had been behind him, facing the sleepers. A stone archway hung with a thin black curtain. A breeze stirred the ragged cloth, and Sirius's mind recharged with a start. In flashes, he remembered the death eaters, the fighting, the curtain, Harry… The room he must have left just moments before lay behind that curtain, and Sirius ran forward, his godson's name on his lips.

Just as he reached the threshold, a voice stopped him.

"Sirius."

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comments would be appreciated. More to come.