Under the Ashen Sky

Under the Ashen Sky

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

'SIRIUS!' Harry yelled. 'SIRIUS!

But as he reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back.

'There's nothing you can do, Harry -'

'Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!'

'- it's too late, Harry.'

'We can still reach him -' Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go.

'There's nothing you can do, Harry ... nothing ... he's gone.'

*****

Harry!

Oh, god. Harry!

HARRY!

The tattered veil in the archway swells and billows, though there is no breeze. Or air. There is no air. His voice will not carry. It is hollow and without resonance, dampened to the point where he isn't even sure if he can be heard by anyone outside his head. He stumbles forward, reaching out. He tries to catch the dark, translucent material; it parts and separates between his fingers, like smoke. Shadow even. It is like touching shadow and darkness. The projection of Harry ripples around his clutching hand, each one unaffected by the other.

Harry! he wails. There is panic, desperation.

Sirius.

She is standing behind him, hands clasped in front of her. Her robes are of black velvet, and lined with purple. Her skin is pale and smooth, like bone. A small charm hangs from a silver chain about her neck.

Sirius Black. Her voice is quiet, and he thinks, just a little sad.

Do you work here? he asks urgently. I need you to tell me how I can get back! He waves both hands through the veil again; again it parts like smoke, going back to its original shape only when he draws back.

I do work here, in a sense, she says. This place is mine. It is me.

No time for games, he says to her, speaking slowly now, hands spread in front of him. He must still be in the Ministry. She must work here. He's heard that the Department of Mysteries does strange things to a person's mind. She may have been deeply affected; if he can just get her to understand ...

I just need you to tell me how get back through. They need me. Harry needs me.

It's over, Sirius, she says.

No. No! It's not over. Can't you see? I need to be there. He's in danger. He's just a boy, for God's sake. Have you no heart? He is crying now, out of frustration, out of fear.

I have more heart than you can ever know, Sirius.

She places a hand on his shoulder, and stretches out with the other, palm up. The tips of her fingers brush the shadow veil, and silently, both curtain and archway fall to the ground, dissipating like mist.

Who are you? he whispers, staring at the diaphanous tendrils of vapour as they slowly evaporate.

You know who I am. She smiles then, and Sirius can feel the warmth of her hand through his coat. He expected it to be cold.

Walk with me, Sirius Black.

She moves forward; he feels compelled to fall in step with her. They keep an unhurried pace; time is of no consequence here. Sirius doesn't know where they are going. The landscape is bleak and unmarked, a grey waste. The sky - or the thing that takes the place of the sky - is a white expanse, lit by something other than the sun.

I wasn't ready yet.

Many are not. That's just the way it is.

You should have allowed me to go back.

There are rules, Sirius.

Rules. He snorts. He doesn't think it is a very good excuse. You can break the rules. YOU can.

Not this time,

she says. I don't expect you to understand. You were never one to follow the rules.

No, I wasn't.

What's going to happen to them? he asks, turning back to look at the place where the arch and veil once stood; the scenery behind him is exactly the same as the scenery in front.

I don't know. It is not my place to know.

But don't you just ... know? Don't you care?

I care. I just don't know.

We'll win, won't we? He wants to make sure that Harry will be all right. He is certain she knows the answer. He thinks that if he questions her enough, maybe she'll slip up and tell him something that will set his mind at ease. Good always wins.

Good always wins. She pauses, reflecting on the statement. That's what they always say, don't they? Are you good, Sirius?

I ... I think so. I think I've tried to be.

And Tom? Is he good?

Tom? Tom who?

Tom Riddle.

Oh, you mean ... V- ... Um. He-Who-Must-Not- ... He stops himself. This is ridiculous. He can name him now. Voldemort?

Yes, I believe that's what he calls himself. Quite silly, really. But yes. Voldemort. If you're good, does that mean he's evil?

Without a doubt.

She sighs. No one's truly evil, Sirius. Not in their hearts. And I know their hearts.

Sirius shakes his head. He knows Voldemort is utterly, completely evil. Irredeemably evil.

Tom Riddle walks by the waterfront with a girl. Her robe is green, and her hair is like the desert sand at sunset. All Tom Riddle wants is to be lost in her hair forever. She smells like rain and autumn and warm moonlit nights. He kisses her under the shade of elm trees and gives her a flower.

She bends down and picks a deep red rose that seems to have grown, singly, in the dust at her feet. And then there are two roses in her hand. She places one in her hair, where it bleeds into the darkness of her black curls, and offers the other to Sirius.

He gives her a flower. Much like this one.

Sirius takes the blood-tinted blossom and buries his nose in its petals. He doesn't know if he is really smelling the sweetness, or just imagining that he is.

And your point?

Tom Riddle remembers that girl, and that day. Often he sees her in his dreams - when he dreams - though he can never recall them when he wakes up. He just feels, upon waking, that he has lost something all over again. I see this side of Tom Riddle, and I know he is not evil.

Sirius cups the rose in his hand, rubs his fingertips against the soft velvet of its petals. He doesn't know what to say.

I don't know if good always wins, Sirius. I don't take sides.

I just want to know that they'll be all right. My friends, and Harry. Especially Harry. I'm the only one he's got. We didn't have enough time together.

You never get enough time with the people you love, she says. There is never enough time, no matter how much you get.

Sirius nods. I just want him to have a good life. A happy life. Him, Ron, Hermione ... Remus. All of them.

I can't promise you that.

Yes. I know.

They have stopped walking. Sirius looks up at the ashen sky, then at the woman in front of him. No, not a woman; not much more than a girl, really, but so much more than both. A faint smile plays on her lips. He can't tell what colour her eyes are.

It's time, Sirius.

What happens now?

That depends on you. She holds out her hand to him. Take my hand, Sirius Black.

Sirius regards her for an instant. She waits, patiently. He takes a deep breath, or maybe he just thinks he does (for there is no air in this place), and reaches out.

END