*Disclaimer* I am not making any money from this. All characters in this
story belong to J.K. Rowling, I am simply borrowing them. I am not J.K.
Rowling - though I wish I was - (feel free to ignore my bad stab at
humour.) Anyway, on with the story.
This is basically a story about Sirius's return from the land through which the veil took him to. Sorry if it's kind of (very) confusing. The first chapter switches between Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, and the time when Sirius fell through the Veil, in Harry's fifth year. So, please tell me if you think I should continue or not, and please review. Thanks. Anyway, on with the story.
Padfoot Returns
Chapter One - Awakening
A flash of red light. His body went hurtling backwards. Falling.falling. His face still held the laughter which had creased its edges simply moments before, but his eyes looked stunned. His body plunged backwards into the empty air, into nothingness. Then, he plunged, as if in slow motion through the veil behind him. His last look was for Harry, then he disappeared. He was gone.
* * *
It was almost two years since the day Sirius had plunged through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, never to return. Harry still thought about him, almost constantly. His grief still ate at his insides, consuming him. A rage beyond imagination filled him when he thought of Bellatrix's sunken face, her mocking voice. The pain of his loss was unbearable, yet that was exactly what Harry had to do.
Bear it.
Voldemort would soon try to take over. Harry knew it; in his heart he had always known it. His last year at Hogwarts would be the time when Voldemort would truly rise, when they would all have to fight. He may never survive his last year at Hogwarts. For was that not what the prophecy had said, he thought shrewdly. That he cannot live while I remain alive. That one of us must vanquish the other.
Harry felt like giving up. He would give anything to follow Sirius into death's welcoming hands, to let Voldemort kill him. He would sell his soul just to join the man who had been more like a father to him than any other man in the world, for he knew Sirius better than he knew his own parents. Why had life dealt him such a cruel hand? If only he could just join him.
No, a voice inside him told him, the voice of reason, you cannot die. Life is cold, and its cruel. But you have to be brave, live. You must fight Voldemort. You must save the world!
What had the world ever done for him, though? It had allowed his parents to be killed before he was two years old, which had forced him to live at his aunt and uncle's, where he was treated like something they had just trodden on. Then, it had ripped away from him the only person he knew as a father. Did the world deserve to be saved?
The sunshine filtered around Harry, as he sat beneath the tree which he had seen his father sit under two years ago, but the sun brought no comfort to him. It did not melt the unyielding shards of ice, which had filled him since that fateful day two years ago. For that was what grief did. It numbed your body, consumed all rational thought, burned inside you like both fire and ice.
But think of the people that love you, Harry, the voice continued stubbornly. Think of Ron, and Hermione, Lupin, and the rest of the Weasleys. Can you allow them to die simply because you do not want to follow the path which destiny has so clearly laid out for you?
And, Harry supposed, it was right. He could not, would never let those people die. He loved them, would do anything for them. While there was still breath in his body he would not let Lord Voldemort win. He would protect them. He would fight. He would live. For it was his destiny.
* * *
Sirius stood up, surveyed the world around him, a look of shock and horror etched across his handsome features. As if pulled by some invisible force, he reached his finger to his wrist. There he felt the slow, steady beat of his pulse. He was definitely alive.
He had expected the veil to take him to the place after life. He had expected to die, and to be taken to the nothingness which death could entail. But that had not happened. He felt alive. He felt the blood pumping through his veins, could feel the thirst for oxygen which every human being felt. Then where was he.
He cast a look at the land about him. All he saw was greyness all around him. Grey, stone covered ground stretching for miles upon miles, and a grey sky over head, which looked as though it had been scorched. This place certainly looked as if it could house the dead. Then why had he been brought here, or more importantly, why had he survived the journey which he supposed had been intended to be his last?
Waves of hopelessness and despair washed over him. The Blacks were by no means quitters, but in this forsaken, desolate land, quitting seemed to be the easy option. But Sirius would not quit, he would not quit while he was still alive, and while Harry was still alive. He would do anything to get back to him.
At the thought of Harry an emotion of fatherly love surged up inside him. Harry. He knew he had to get out for him, especially for him. He knew in the depths of his very soul that Harry would need him, that the Order would need him, in the final resistance against Voldemort. Sirius again felt despair wash over him. He had promised James, and himself, that he would love and care for Harry as if he were his own child. And now he had left him alone, in a world which was falling around him in pieces. He had left Harry alone in a world where he was likely to witness his friends being picked off one by one, tortured and killed in front of his very eyes. He had left Harry alone in a world filled with misery, filled with despair, and in a world which was losing all hope for survival.
By God, he would get out of here. He would get out of this place, he would help. Or he would die trying.
* * *
"What are you saying Dumbledore?" Alastor Moody barked at the wizard standing at the front of the room.
Remus Lupin sat with his head in his hands, a grim expression showing on his face.
"We can't tell Harry this, we can't let him hope Dumbledore, you know that? Don't you?" He said tiredly, though there was some other emotion expressed in it, something which sounded almost like hope.
"Yes, Remus, I am perfectly aware that Harry must not find out about this. It could end in his destruction. But I'm afraid that we cannot help Sirius, we cannot reach him. It is all up to himself. He must reach us alone." Dumbledore told the Order.
They all looked up at the headmaster, expressions of hope dawning on their faces.
"You see," Dumbledore continued, "None of us know exactly what the Veil does, where it takes those who fall through it. The only thing which I am sure of is that it does not kill its victims instantaneously. I am trying to find out more about the Veil, though you are aware we cannot waste valuable effort and time on it. It is really all up to Sirius. It may take him months to reach us, it may take him years. In fact he may never reach us, but there is a glimmer of hope that he will. I will not allow anyone to go through that veil, though. We do not know if anyone could ever come back." He finished. The age was beginning to show on the old man's face, and in his voice and eyes. All three seemed tired, and weary of the circumstances which he found himself in.
"But you're saying there's a chance, that Sirius may live?" Tonks asked, barely concealing the excitement and hope in her voice.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "There is a chance that Sirius will live through this a chance that we may see him again!" Dumbledore told her, hope emanating from his own voice. It gave the others strength to believe.
Well, what do you think? Kinda bad ending, I know. Please read and review anyway. Should I continue?
This is basically a story about Sirius's return from the land through which the veil took him to. Sorry if it's kind of (very) confusing. The first chapter switches between Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, and the time when Sirius fell through the Veil, in Harry's fifth year. So, please tell me if you think I should continue or not, and please review. Thanks. Anyway, on with the story.
Padfoot Returns
Chapter One - Awakening
A flash of red light. His body went hurtling backwards. Falling.falling. His face still held the laughter which had creased its edges simply moments before, but his eyes looked stunned. His body plunged backwards into the empty air, into nothingness. Then, he plunged, as if in slow motion through the veil behind him. His last look was for Harry, then he disappeared. He was gone.
* * *
It was almost two years since the day Sirius had plunged through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, never to return. Harry still thought about him, almost constantly. His grief still ate at his insides, consuming him. A rage beyond imagination filled him when he thought of Bellatrix's sunken face, her mocking voice. The pain of his loss was unbearable, yet that was exactly what Harry had to do.
Bear it.
Voldemort would soon try to take over. Harry knew it; in his heart he had always known it. His last year at Hogwarts would be the time when Voldemort would truly rise, when they would all have to fight. He may never survive his last year at Hogwarts. For was that not what the prophecy had said, he thought shrewdly. That he cannot live while I remain alive. That one of us must vanquish the other.
Harry felt like giving up. He would give anything to follow Sirius into death's welcoming hands, to let Voldemort kill him. He would sell his soul just to join the man who had been more like a father to him than any other man in the world, for he knew Sirius better than he knew his own parents. Why had life dealt him such a cruel hand? If only he could just join him.
No, a voice inside him told him, the voice of reason, you cannot die. Life is cold, and its cruel. But you have to be brave, live. You must fight Voldemort. You must save the world!
What had the world ever done for him, though? It had allowed his parents to be killed before he was two years old, which had forced him to live at his aunt and uncle's, where he was treated like something they had just trodden on. Then, it had ripped away from him the only person he knew as a father. Did the world deserve to be saved?
The sunshine filtered around Harry, as he sat beneath the tree which he had seen his father sit under two years ago, but the sun brought no comfort to him. It did not melt the unyielding shards of ice, which had filled him since that fateful day two years ago. For that was what grief did. It numbed your body, consumed all rational thought, burned inside you like both fire and ice.
But think of the people that love you, Harry, the voice continued stubbornly. Think of Ron, and Hermione, Lupin, and the rest of the Weasleys. Can you allow them to die simply because you do not want to follow the path which destiny has so clearly laid out for you?
And, Harry supposed, it was right. He could not, would never let those people die. He loved them, would do anything for them. While there was still breath in his body he would not let Lord Voldemort win. He would protect them. He would fight. He would live. For it was his destiny.
* * *
Sirius stood up, surveyed the world around him, a look of shock and horror etched across his handsome features. As if pulled by some invisible force, he reached his finger to his wrist. There he felt the slow, steady beat of his pulse. He was definitely alive.
He had expected the veil to take him to the place after life. He had expected to die, and to be taken to the nothingness which death could entail. But that had not happened. He felt alive. He felt the blood pumping through his veins, could feel the thirst for oxygen which every human being felt. Then where was he.
He cast a look at the land about him. All he saw was greyness all around him. Grey, stone covered ground stretching for miles upon miles, and a grey sky over head, which looked as though it had been scorched. This place certainly looked as if it could house the dead. Then why had he been brought here, or more importantly, why had he survived the journey which he supposed had been intended to be his last?
Waves of hopelessness and despair washed over him. The Blacks were by no means quitters, but in this forsaken, desolate land, quitting seemed to be the easy option. But Sirius would not quit, he would not quit while he was still alive, and while Harry was still alive. He would do anything to get back to him.
At the thought of Harry an emotion of fatherly love surged up inside him. Harry. He knew he had to get out for him, especially for him. He knew in the depths of his very soul that Harry would need him, that the Order would need him, in the final resistance against Voldemort. Sirius again felt despair wash over him. He had promised James, and himself, that he would love and care for Harry as if he were his own child. And now he had left him alone, in a world which was falling around him in pieces. He had left Harry alone in a world where he was likely to witness his friends being picked off one by one, tortured and killed in front of his very eyes. He had left Harry alone in a world filled with misery, filled with despair, and in a world which was losing all hope for survival.
By God, he would get out of here. He would get out of this place, he would help. Or he would die trying.
* * *
"What are you saying Dumbledore?" Alastor Moody barked at the wizard standing at the front of the room.
Remus Lupin sat with his head in his hands, a grim expression showing on his face.
"We can't tell Harry this, we can't let him hope Dumbledore, you know that? Don't you?" He said tiredly, though there was some other emotion expressed in it, something which sounded almost like hope.
"Yes, Remus, I am perfectly aware that Harry must not find out about this. It could end in his destruction. But I'm afraid that we cannot help Sirius, we cannot reach him. It is all up to himself. He must reach us alone." Dumbledore told the Order.
They all looked up at the headmaster, expressions of hope dawning on their faces.
"You see," Dumbledore continued, "None of us know exactly what the Veil does, where it takes those who fall through it. The only thing which I am sure of is that it does not kill its victims instantaneously. I am trying to find out more about the Veil, though you are aware we cannot waste valuable effort and time on it. It is really all up to Sirius. It may take him months to reach us, it may take him years. In fact he may never reach us, but there is a glimmer of hope that he will. I will not allow anyone to go through that veil, though. We do not know if anyone could ever come back." He finished. The age was beginning to show on the old man's face, and in his voice and eyes. All three seemed tired, and weary of the circumstances which he found himself in.
"But you're saying there's a chance, that Sirius may live?" Tonks asked, barely concealing the excitement and hope in her voice.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "There is a chance that Sirius will live through this a chance that we may see him again!" Dumbledore told her, hope emanating from his own voice. It gave the others strength to believe.
Well, what do you think? Kinda bad ending, I know. Please read and review anyway. Should I continue?