Note: I don't know where the hell this came from…oh yeah I do.

   "Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light…the second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest." -  H.P and the OotP

   But…in all of the previous books, the Killing Curse was green.

   Therefore…moron says wha?

   The spell that hit Sirius shouldn't have been red, it should have been green…-…if it *was* the Avada Kedavra.

   The crumpled body hadn't moved at all.

   Then again, it had only been a few minutes since it fell through the arch and collapsed.

   A few of the louder 'people' behind the veil insisted they knew him, calling him by name – nothing that anyone took any notice of, their realm did nothing in the real world. But the ones who had been stubborn in life peeked through the flimsy material, and whispered their observations of the scene.

   There were many people out there – less children than men, but less women than children. Two seemed to be carrying on a duel, hexes steadily flying back and forth only to be countered, and one of equal strength sent back. The rest seemed intent of getting out of there.

   One spirit – once in life he had been a loyal servant to a famous line of pureblood wizards – whispered of an anguished young man, being held back by an equally anguished older man. The boy's face was streaked with recent tears, and was futilely screaming at the veil…without purpose; no sounds could go in or out. Despite the boy's obvious emotional outburst, the spirits – and therefore the unmoving man – heard nothing.

   But still, the body twitched in response.

   One finger poked too close to a bottle, and the murky contents inside snapped at it.

   It withdrew hastily.

   Williamson exhaled. In all few years of working at the Ministry, and many years before that, he had never, ever expected to be here. The Department of Mysteries – specifically designed so that no one learned anything they weren't supposed to.

   He approached the veil hanging from a rather decrepit looking archway and studied it cautiously. Nothing down here was to be trusted…not even an ancient veil and an even older arch.

   And then the unthinkable happened.

   A dog ran out from the curtain, trotting past him like it owned the place.

   Williamson blinked, then rubbed his eyes.

   The veil swang softly as if in a breeze.

   And the fading footsteps of a dog disappeared from hearing.

   The wizard sat down heavily on the cold floor. The Ministry weren't paying him enough.

   Sirius Black didn't hesitate.

   He jumped right in the pond, splashing and having a grand old time.

   Well, he had nearly died, hadn't he? Wasn't he entitled to a bath?

   Shaking off the water one last time, he jumped out of the pond and started sauntering away. He had a godson to get to, after all.

   Of course, with all the hell the Ministry had given him for nearly the last fifteen years he had to leave them a present. Of course.

   After all was said and done, the cleaners were sent in first.

   They wrinkled their noses at the mess on the floor.

   How had a dog gotten inside the Ministry of Magic headquarters?