Serenade
The veil belonged in the Department of Mysteries for more than one reason.
Chapter One
The veil. It was right in front of him, but this decayed, decadent sitting room certainly wasn't in the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius Black knew that for a fact, despite his hazy state of consciousness. Nowhere in the Department of Mysteries (or the Ministry at all) could you find a room so lavishly floored with fine hardwoods, so tastefully furnished with low-sitting Asian tables and mats, or so artfully decorated with tapestries and vases. But Sirius knew even better how to spot a room that went unused for decades – like Grimmauld Place's many neglected chambers – and knew that the Ministry would never leave such a room abandoned. Knowing the Ministry, Sirius would expect such a room to be given to the most undeserving official possible. Like a Malfoy.
But enough speculation on the room itself. Sirius wasn't in the Ministry at all, and that's what mattered. He was nowhere near his charge – his godson – and that single thought brought Sirius' consciousness to lucidity, his eyes opening fully for the first time since his arrival in this strange place.
Lifting his head gingerly, Sirius glared hotly at the archway from his place on the floor, blaming the magical object for his predicament since his deranged cousin, Bellatrix, was not present to blame. He hauled himself to his feet, tired muscles protesting and joints creaking, once it became obvious that the inanimate magical object wouldn't respond. He surveyed the surrounding dustbunny-infested floor after he patted himself down, refusing to panic about his missing wand – didn't have one for so long, need it need it need it, won't let them hurt me or Harry – just yet. One minute passed, then another, and as he knelt to investigate beneath the furniture Sirius' self imposed calm started fraying at the edges. His breath came faster and faster, and hysteria would soon follow if that wand didn't show up. Sirius intensified his search, scouring the undersides of the tables while forcing his quivering hands to still.
And then he spotted that familiar little stick, protruding from a large, sturdy ceramic vase that it had impaled. Sirius gently extricated the wand from the broken vase. If his wand had been expelled from the arch with such force, then Sirius likely was as well; that certainly explained the ache in his muscles and the bruises forming on various parts of his body. Sirius found his dubious sanity solidifying as he inspected his wand; thankfully, the blessed stick had only suffered miniscule splinters during the collision.
Turning toward the veil, wand in hand, Sirius began analyzing his options, hoping that he hadn't been stupefied for too long. If Harry had died during his absence…. Back to the options, if he never returned to Harry, Sirius would be of no help. One, walk back through. Two, explore. Three, wait for someone. The last two options were unappealing; the veil was a menacing object, and no person, be they Order members or Death Eaters, would willingly walk through the veil just to retrieve Sirius. The second was also unappealing, but mostly because the decayed glory of this place… it was too much like Grimmauld Place.
Walk through, it was.
As he strode purposefully toward the fluttering veil Sirius willfully ignored his instinct to turn tail and run. The veil's ominous presence sent his imagination running wild during the few seconds it took Sirius to reach the archway, but all those terrors that the veil inspired came to abrupt end.
An impressive bang! resounded, and Sirius found himself in a heap, the delicate screen wall having collapsed when he was thrown into it.
"Shit."
Notes (3/17/2011): So. This is more of a prelude than anything else. I'll try to crap out a real chapter during my six hour car ride tomorrow.