So, this is my first story in a while, and I'm quite nervous about it.

Here I attempt to write a crossover of something I have always wanted to read. I'm planning to update every Wednesday, with each entry being over 1,00 words.

At the moment I have the whole story planned out, and the first 3 chapters written, so I'm hoping you will all like it.

The Veil stood in the middle of a large chamber. An archway and a cloth, floating.

Voices whispered from within the fabric, heard by only few. Still, now one like to go near it, no one like to be alone in that room.

No one knew what it was, no one knew what it did, all they knew what that it was there, and once you went through, you never came back.

Sirius Black was the first to fall through the Veil in over a century.

Harry, never one to be left behind, followed him, escaping the hands that held him, tears running down his face.

Hermione, knowing Harry would need her, staggers through days later with an open wound across her belly.

Ron, forever loyal, didn't hesitate to follow, he knew, after all, that they would both be lost without him.

Hermione was the first to remember, just like she had been the first to cast the spell, the first to put her hand up. Hermione was always the first.

It was a bright day in the middle of summer, she was in a park, sitting on a bench and feeding the pigeons. The bread was old and green, but she knew the birds would eat whatever was put in front of them.

They were nervous, cooing, creeping forwards as though Hermione were about to kick them. A frown covered Hermione's face. She did this a lot, and the birds just about knew her by sight, often gathering around her as soon as she stepped into the park.

They were never this nervous, and a deep, foreboding feeling settled in her gut. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, and she knew that if she didn't do anything soon, everything was going to get real bad, real fast.

Hermione stood up, dropping the rest of the bread on the floor, ignoring the flurry of wings as, nervousness forgotten in the face of so much food, the birds gathered around her. She looked around, seeing nothing but children playing and couples kissing. The world was at peace with the start of the summer holidays, but Hermione's gut just wouldn't shut up.

Then, there was a loud bang.

The pigeons scattered, bread forgotten, and all around her she saw people gasp, their eyes widened. A woman screamed, and a man fainted. She turned to look, more out of instinct then any desire to see what was going on.

It was then that she saw, and it was then that she remembered.

The sky had been torn open, and she was a witch.

Hermione had a sudden desire to run towards the madness, because that's what she did before, because these sudden memories hurt, and a life was flashing before her eyes, a life with a happy family and good friends.

A life that was so painfully different to what she had now.

That was what she used to do, always run towards it, never away like she would now, like she had done countless times. It felt strange, these new desires pulling her body in different directions.

But logic won out, like it had done in both her lives, and she knew there was nothing she could do, these events were connected, and she needed to find Harry and Sirius, only right now she was unarmed, and unsure if her magic had gone through the veil with her.

If she went towards the chaos, she would die. There was no question about it. But looking at looking up, seeing thick plums of smoke, she wasn't sure staying here would be the best option either.

She started to turn, only to freeze in horror as something started to fall out of the portal. No. that wasn't right. They were flying.

Panic gripped her, as bodies pushed past, screaming and crying, mothers gripping onto children for dear life.

The things were coming closer, flying overhead.

They were so fast, faster than she had ever seen.

She was in a sea of people, trying to get through the gates and onto the street, but it was no use, the monsters were landing, crawling over cars like ants. They had seen the scene, the people running, and they were out for blood.

Hermione couldn't go that way, but she couldn't go any other way either, it was en enclosed placed. High bars around the entire place, they were meant to make the park look classy, but all they were doing now was killing them.

Hermione was still panicking, she has started toward the gate, but knew she had no chance of getting through, the monsters were about to start firing, and the people were about to start falling.

Some of them had turned back, seeing what was about to happen, but it was no use, those at the back were still trying to get to the gate, unaware.

Hermione heard a cry, followed the strange whooping sound of the gun, before, slowly, she saw the people starting to fall.

She turned away. The back of the park was empty. There was no exit this way, there was no need to be here in this open space.

Hermione started moving, an idea already forming in her mind.

The park was in the middle of two apartment buildings, one side looked out onto the main street, the other an alleyway that twisted off into countless warehouses and slum streets.

The space behind her was nothing but benches and trees, trodden down grass, and, lining the fence, a thick hedge.

This is a safe place, the bushes said, as long as you don't look past the surface.

She remembered hiding in those bushes as a child, tucked in between the branches, her own secret world. She remembered how she got there, though a bent bar in the fence. If she could get there now, if she could fight her way through the bushes, maybe she would have a chance, maybe she could get out of this alive.

Hermione ran, not looking anywhere but in front of her. Not looking at the people falling, covered in blood, at the monsters stepping over them, on them, like they weren't even there.

It felt like it took her an hour to get to the back of the park, though it was probably only a few seconds. Her chest was screaming in pain, as she dived through the hedges, branches cutting her, thrones tearing her clothes, as she reached out, her fingertips grazing the metal bars, and she was so close, so close to escaping, to getting away that her heart has already started soaring and refile had already started to flood through her body when

A hand gripping onto her ankle, cold and clammy and painful.

Dragging Hermione back as she screamed, as she tried to grab onto something, anything.

But the bars were too far away, the branches broke away in her hand, and she could feel the tears running down her face and...

Hermione blinked, and she looked up into the barrel of the gun.

(Sirius Black fights in the sky, he doesn't remember)

Ron Weasley was happy.

He was sat at the table, cake in front of him, and staring out of the window. Below him was the entire city, buildings reaching towards the sky, some made of brick and some made of metal. Their signs glowed and flashed, and the faint presence of people sweeping past windows was just about visible.

Smaller buildings were nestled in between them, like children looking up at their parents. From his seat, he could see a flash of green from Central Parks, and in is head he could see the people there, parents with their children, and dates on romantic walks.

Ron signed and closed his eyes, he was happy, yes, but he was alone. At the moment, it felt like he was always alone.

After a while, he glanced around, at the huge space and expensive furniture. He didn't know where his parents were, he never knew. Maybe they were at work, being highly paid lawyers working for Stark Industries, but maybe they weren't, maybe they were out drinking or having affairs, maybe they each had another family, and he had just fallen by the wayside.

He knew, of course, that-

The ground shock, and the sky fell, night pouring out of it. Night that was creeping over everything, turning the skyline black, a thick, wriggling black like a million ants crawling all over each other. There were red flashes of fire like stars, shots of blue going this way and that.

Ron blinked, lost, and his mind felt like it had been doused in gasoline and set on fire. His clutched his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

He remembered.

He remembered holidays spent in a tall, lop sided building that was falling apart, he remembered long winding hallways lit by candles, he remembered friends and family.

Ron Weasley remembered he was a wizard, Ron Weasley remembered he was loved.

He tried to control his breathing, in and out, but it didn't make any difference. He could hear the crashing of buildings, the screaming of people, and he knew he needed to move, he knew he needed to get out of this place and onto the ground, somewhere safe.

It wasn't night, it was monsters. Death Eaters? But no, there were too many of them, they moved to swiftly, fought too poorly. Flashes of light with no rhyme or reasons, not like spells. But if they weren't Death Eaters, who were they?

Ron staggered to his feet, suddenly registering the deafening ringing of the alarm. Fire. The building was on fire, or maybe the smoke had tricked a sensor. All Ron knew that if the alarm was on, the elevator wouldn't be working, and to escape, he would have to climb down sixty stories, over a thousand stairs.

Stairs that wouldn't protect him if those things got in, stairs that wouldn't do a damn thing if the whole building collapsed.

His breathing, calming down, sped up, his heart beat become so loud, it drowned out the alarm. He couldn't do it, he was stuck.

Ron sniffed hesitantly, he couldn't smell smoke, and edging closer to the window, he couldn't see any coming from his building, though it was hard to tell, with thin wisps coming from somewhere, and thick black plums in the distance.

Something flew past his window, followed by another and another, and he dropped to the floor, curling up and repeating spells in his head, over and over. Maybe they would do something,

But no, his chest jerking with sobs, nothing happened, he had to do something, something real and physical, only he couldn't go down and he couldn't go up.

Ron didn't want to die here, in his empty home, filled with empty memories. His mother avoiding eye contact, his father sending his away, acting like he didn't even have a son.

He uncurled, and took in a huge breath, standing up and staggering to his room. He remembered the Devils Snare, where all he had to was calm down and stay still. There was nothing to do now, well, nothing but praying that everything will be alright and ignore the screams.

He remembered the Devils Snare, where all he had to was calm down and stay still. But he couldn't do that then, and he couldn't do it now. Ron closed his eyes and shoved his fist in his mouth, biting down, harder and harder until he could taste blood. He didn't think about his parents, who might have been at Stark tower, who might have been right below the crack, right next to the monsters, who might be-

A crash, and the world shook again, and he was tumbling, falling as the cracked, and Ron could heat the impact, one after another as they crashed and crashed and crashed into the building.

Ron held his breath, bracing both hands on the floor, as there was another almighty crash and the building started to tip, and Ron was suddenly sliding, screaming, with one thought in his mind.

He was going to die.

(Sirius Black Flies in the sky, he doesn't want to remember.)

Harry Potter watched the destruction through a filter, his sister sitting on his knee, sucking her thumb. His mum was stood behind him, her hands clutching his shoulders with a vice like grip.

He reached up and gripped her hand.

They were safe.

Harry Potter did not remember.

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