Falls The Shadow

Between the potency
And the existence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

- The Hollow Man by T S Elliot

He'd been falling through the shadows for some time now; how long exactly he couldn't say. Long enough so that he'd become used to the greyness and the whispers around him, but not so long that he'd forgotten who he was. He had an idea that maybe that's what the greyness did to you; made you forget. He was determined not to forget, determined to remember Harry and Moony, and all the others.

Apart from that, there seemed to be nothing else to worry about in this place. He knew he'd gone beyond the Veil, knew that he'd Passed On. The question was,where had he Passed On to?

If this is death, thought Sirius, it's really not so bad.

The shifting shapes in the grey changed. At first he thought they were the cause of the whispering. Then he thought maybe it was just the sound of the Veil, the sound of gauzy material brushing against itself. And then he stopped caring about the whispers, because the shapes were solidifying into people.

A scene was unfolding before his eyes. He could see it, and yet he was still aware that he was tumbling down; he didn't feel queasy or worried that he'd hit the bottom. In fact, he suspected there was no bottom. There was only him, the descent and the scene he was watching.

It was a small bedroom, sparsely decorated, a few possessions dotted around. It didn't seem quite real somehow; sepia toned, like old photographs and the muggle movies Lily used to make them watch. A boy was sitting at the desk,head bent over a piece of parchment, his quill scribbling furiously across his parchment.

Harry! shouted Sirius, striding across the room towards his godson. He was still descending: he could somehow feel that each step he took was a step down, like walking through the missing steps at Hogwarts. Harry didn't look up. Sirius stopped, already sort of knowing. He reached out to touch the back of Harry's neck. His hand brushed skin, but fell through it. Harry sat up sharply and looked around. He frowned and then went back to his writing. Sirius sighed and then peered around Harry's shoulder at what his godson was writing.

- stupid, I know, because you won't read this, but there's so much I wanted to tell you, Sirius, and never had a chance -

Sirius swallowed.

- at Christmas, Cho Chang kissed me. I didn't tell you, because there were other things going on that were more important, but I wish I had told you. You would have laughed, I'm sure, but maybe you could have told me what to do after that, because I ruined things with her.

Harry paused and stared down at the parchment. He'd been biting his nails and the tips of his fingers felt oddly sore. He wasn't sleeping, but spending most nights writing letters to both the living and the dead. Sirius felt a terrible ache inside of him - it wasn't fair to put so much onto such skinny shoulders.

If I could have carried that weight for you, I would have.

Something tugged on Sirius's sleeve like an impatient child.

What? He turned around and the bedroom evaporated away.

Now he was in the garden to 12 Grimmauld Place and Remus was kneeling in the dirt, potting up some plants for the house. It was night - it seemed everyone did something to while the twilight hours away.

The place was so dark and dusty without Sirius, Remus thought. He knew how Sirius had hated being pent up, and so Remus had spent as much time as he could with him, distracting him when he wasn't working for the Order. Now Sirius was gone... He wanted to bring the outside in.

Sirius wanted to fling his arms around his oldest and dearest friend then. I would have liked that! You know me so well, Moony...

Remus was staring up at the sky, at one star in particular. "Why were you such an idiot, Padfoot?" he whispered.

Because that was what you loved about me.You were so straight; one of us had to be the idiot.

Remus smiled wistfully, as though he could hear Sirius. Just as Sirius had reached out a hand to touch Moony and embrace him, he was yanked away again. This time to a room with walls covered in books. It came as no surprise to Sirius to see Hermione Granger sitting at a desk, feverishly writing. Time had moved on, Sirius saw; daylight poured in through the curtains. He went over to the desk and read over Hermione's shoulder.

-I'm really worried too, but at least he's writing to us. In a way, I'd be more worried if he wasn't writing at all. You know how Harry likes to keep things bottled up; at least he's not excluding us. Maybe he'll try to let us help him.

She paused, and sat up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She played with her quill for a bit and then started writing again.

All we can do is be there for him when he wants to talk about Sirius.

Hermione let out a tiny little sniff. It was too much, she thought. Couldn't we have gone at least one year without something terrible happening? Was it too much to expect that they could live normally?

For Harry it is, thought Sirius bitterly.

Hermione was beginning to fully realise a horrible truth that she'd tried to deny for over a year: life wasn't fair, and she couldn't make it so. House Elves were enslaved, and nobody cared; people died and nothing could bring them back.

It was a dreadful thing, Sirius realised, to watch someone grow up and shed their innocence the way a snake sheds its skin. It has to be done, but Sirius didn't like the way Hermione steeled herself to continue writing.

Life shouldn't be so hard.

Hermione's room faded and Sirius was back to falling again. He lost all sense of time, but now he was impatient. He wanted to see more, more of the world he had lost. As if some benevolent force had heard his silent wish, the grey faded and he was standing outside in a very neat and tidy garden.

Harry was hanging out the washing. Not because Aunt Petunia had ordered him to - all the Dursleys seemed to have made a silent pack to ignore Harry - but because he was bored. Besides, he'd gotten rather used to looking after 4 Privet Drive. He would never have admitted it to anyone, but he liked the crisp, wet, fresh smell of the laundry and the way his hands squeaked from the water that coated them after he'd finished hanging up the clothes.

Harry hung up a bed sheet, unintentionally blocking himself from Sirius' sight.

I wish you could see me, Harry. I wish you could understand that I'm here.

Sirius swept the sheet in front of him away with one hand. For one electrifying second, he fancied that his and Harry's hands brushed. Harry froze, and the clothes peg he'd held clenched between his teeth dropped to the floor. Godfather and godson stared at each other for a moment, and then Sirius was whirled away again. Harry sat down on the clothes basket behind him and cleaned his glasses on his shirt.

In the blink of an eye, Harry was gone. Sirius was standing in a verycluttered, very cosy looking kitchen. He'd never been here before, but the presence of two red heads confirmed what he suspected. The Burrow.

"What did Hermione say?" asked Ginny, putting cutlery away in a drawer. Ron shrugged, piling plates precariously on top of one another.

"Only that we should keep on writing to him... Let him know that we're, you know... here."

Ginny nodded. "He must be lonely," she said quietly.

Ron put the plates away and slammed the cupboard door with more force than was needed. "He's lonely every summer. He should come here."

He stomped out the kitchen, leaving Ginny with a very thoughtful expression on her face.

Sirius tried to work out what she was thinking - it was easier to read people now that he was falling, easier to understand them - but again, the image shifted, this time back to Remus.

He was sitting at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. He was drinking - not heavily, Sirius noted with a wry smile. Moony only ever drank brandy in hot tea.

Remus was staring down at the mug, watching the amber liquid lap against the sides. Loneliness was crushing him; already he looked smaller than he had when Sirius had Passed On. So much was gone now, and it could never be replaced. He'd made it through one war; he'd survived the 15 or so years they'd had of peace, thinking that his friends had been killed by a betrayer. And now he would live through another war, and there was no hope of seeing any of them again. The Marauders were well and truly dead.

Remus refused to think about Wormtail. Anger boiled within him when he did, and really, when did that help anyone? He had to think of Harry now. Sirius was gone - Remus' hands twitched around the mug - and Harry needed someone to look up to. Remus wasn't sure if he was the right person, but he wanted to be.

Harry was all that was left.

Sirius could feel his breath hitch along with Remus'. He could taste the warm tea and the kick of brandy that Remus was drinking.

I'm left here as well, Moony. I'm always here.

And as soon as that thought had escaped Sirius, he found himself being pulled away. He wanted to show himself to Remus the same way he had shown himself to Harry, but he couldn't. Already, Moony was gone.

In the middle of an empty room, the second remaining Marauder stood, reading from a piece of parchment. Wormtail. Sirius started forward, feeling a bloodlust that had become familiar to him (at least where Wormtail was concerned). Unconcerned, Wormtail sighed, and shut his small rat-like eyes.

"I didn't mean it to be like this," he said. So many things had gone wrong... Some people weren't suited for war, and if they can't leave, if they are bound to others who remain in the fight, then they must come to a decision. Peter knew he'd made the wrong one, but there was little he could do to change that.

There's plenty thought Sirius, if only you knew. We all had difficult choices to make.

"I'm sorry, James," said Wormtail, his eyes still closed. His hands were clasped, as if in prayer. "I'm sorry, Remus... I'm sorry, Sirius. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

You're damn right, it isn't!

Before Sirius could leap at Wormtail, the greyness returned. Like a tide, it swept away Wormtail, wiping the world Sirius inhabited now clean of him.

Harry was in the garden again. He lay on his back, dully watching the clouds pass him by. Sirius sat down beside him, feeling a little of his anger dissipate as the sun flicked off Harry's glasses.

"There's someone here to see you," said Petunia, stomping towards them.

"To see me?" repeated Harry, looking puzzled.

"Yes!" snapped Petunia. "And she can't come in. I'm not having any more of you in the house."

Harry ignored this last insult and went to see who his visitor was. To his surprise, Ginny stood in the doorway, looking around nervously, but with interest. She'd probably never seen a muggle house before.

"Hi Harry!" she said, eyeing Dudley, who had just appeared by the stairs, warily. He was staring at Ginny in a very peculiar way. Feeling a hot flush of something he didn't quite understand, Harry took her arm and wheeled her out the door again.

"Hello," he said. "Let's go for a walk." Sirius followed, smiling knowingly to himself.

They walked in silence to the park and sat down on the swings.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I thought you could do with seeing a friendly face," said Ginny, propelling herself backwards and forwards on the swing using her toes. "Tonksknows I'm here - she's around here somewhere." Harry and Sirius glanced around but only Sirius saw Tonks sitting on a bench just across from the park, apparently engrossed in a crossword.

"Ron and Hermione wanted to come," continued Ginny, answering Harry's silent question, "but Mum wouldn't let them; she's locked them in The Burrow."

"But she didn't lock you in?"

"No."

Harry thought for a moment. "Why didn't she want them to come see me?"

"I don't know," said Ginny, shaking her head. Her hair caught the sun, and Harry could see that it was more vary-coloured than Ron's; he could see strands of strawberry blonde, and deep burgundy, so deep it almost looked black. He shook his head, and Sirius laughed to himself. Like father, like son, he thought. The Potters like their reds.

"I think she was thinking of their safety... and yours. Everyone knows that you three are... well. 'The Dream Team.'"

Harry smiled. He wondered if he should make idle conversation with her, ask her how she'd been, if Ron and Hermione were okay... But somehow he didn't want to. She was swinging now, and he felt mesmerised, following her with his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Pro'ly not," he muttered, looking down at his hands. His fingers were bleeding a little from where he'd been biting his nails again.

Sirius put a hand on his godson's knee. Harry looked up, distracted, straight through Sirius.

Ginny had stopped swinging. She was staring at Harry, waiting for him to speak, knowing that was what he needed.

See Harry? We're all here.

"I've been..." Harry trailed off. It was so stupid. But Ginny wouldn't laugh. "It's... I'm..." He sighed. "I've been writing him letters."

"Sirius, you mean?"

"Yeah," said Harry, glad that he didn't have to admit it fully. Sirius felt a stab of hurt, like Harry was trying to forget him. He didn't want to remember, and Sirius knew with a shocking clarity that was the only reason he existed. Because he was remembered. He wanted to grip hold of Harry, force him to recognise him, but his hand fell through Harry, as if Harry were made of nothing but fog. That was how it felt; like Sirius was the only solid thing. Everything else was just shadows and dust.

"There's so much I wanted to tell him," said Harry, staring at his right hand which gripped the swing chain. "So much, and I never got the chance to... We didn't ever really speak. It was like we could only talk when something terrible had happened."

"I know," said Ginny quietly. They were both silent for a moment. Sirius could feel the horrible catch in Harry's chest and the quiet, steady breathing of Ginny.

"Maybe... maybe there's a way you can let him know." Both Harry and Sirius stared at Ginny.

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." said Ginny, "I've got an idea. But I'm not going to tell you yet, in case it can't happen. Don't give me that look," she added fiercely when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "I don't know if we'll be allowed to do it... Do you really want to give Sirius all those letters?"

"More than you'll ever know," said Harry, and immediately felt embarrassed.

"Okay," said Ginny. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I suppose I'd better go... Mum might wonder where I am." She grinned a little at Harry and he forced himself to grin back.

"See you," he said.

"See you." She stood up. "I'll keep in touch with... with everything."

"Thank you." She nodded and walked out the park. Tonks carefully closed her crossword book and followed at a discreet distance. Sirius sat on Ginny's vacated seat and watched Harry, who was watching Ginny go. When she disappeared from view, he put his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees and stared at the floor. For once, Sirius felt no compulsion, no tugging at his sleeve to go somewhere else. He sat with Harry until it got dark, singing "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff" because that was the only song Harry remembered him singing.

As darkness fell, Harry faded away. Time seemed to speed up; images flashed by Sirius, blurring into one another. A lot of letter writing was going on, especially between Ginny and Harry. Sirius laughed and tried to ruffle Harry's hair as Harry checked the sky eagerly every morning for Hedwig.

Getting on well with the youngest Weasley, eh, Harry? he chuckled as Harry hurriedly untied a letter from Pig.

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. He was talking to Pig, who was zooming around the bedside lamp and twittering loudly, but it was nice to pretend for a moment that nothing terrible had happened. That they were able to tease each other and do all the things godsons and godfathers are supposed to do.

Would it be alright (wrote Ginny) if other people got involved? I mean... Sirius meant so much to Lupin, for instance, and it would be nice for him to... well, to get out of that terrible house for one thing.

Harry wrote back quickly to Ginny.

Of course it's alright - maybe this could be a memorial. I want Sirius to be remembered.

Sirius wept when he read that; he wasn't too sure why. He could feel that Harry's throat was tight as well, and it made everything so much better, and so much worse.

Why is it (Harry wrote to Ginny) we only appreciate what we've got once it's gone?

More owls were sent.

Both Harry and Ginny wrote to Dumbledore. He read their letters during a governor's meeting at Hogwarts. After the meeting was over, he went back to his office. Phineas Nigellus was pretending to snooze in his portrait. Dumbledore did not try to wake him, although Sirius could not resist giving his great-great-grandfather a sharp poke between the eyes, even if the painted figure did not stir. Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair. So much of the blame, he felt, was justly his. He could not say no to Harry's request, but nor could he say yes.

You have my blessing, he wrote. But you will need to ask Minister Fudge. I am sure he will not say no to such an appeal.

Sirius did not want to see if Fudge would say no; there were more important things to see. He did not see Fudge, but guessed that whatever Harry and Ginny had planned, he had agreed to. The letters were flying even faster than before.

Lupin received his at Grimmauld Place and sat at the kitchen table, reading the letter over and over again. He sent a quick reply and then went upstairs to his room and opened the chest of drawers next to his bed. Sirius smiled when he saw Remus pull out a small stack of letters, all neatly bundled together, all addressed to Sirius.

Hermione read her letter from Harry and wanted to cry for him. She hadn't written anything to Sirius, but she started to immediately. She wanted to understand what had happened, and the only way to do that was to write.

Ron was told by Ginny. He sat up in his bedroom, firstly writing to Hermione.

I'll go, he wrote, but I don't know what to do. What are you going to do? He didn't want to ask her that; it made the whole thing seem like some piece of homework that he couldn't do. But that was what Ron did when he was in doubt. Hermione always knew what to do.

Her advice was to write to Sirius. And so he did.

Sirius could feel himself changing. Before, when he had first observed Harry writing him a letter, he had felt... unreal. He could not touch because his hand passed through whatever he tried to make contact with. And now, it was as if the roles were reversed: as if the world were fading and he, Sirius, was becoming stronger. He couldn't explain what was happening (everything had been such a mess since he'd fallen through the Veil), but it was as if every stroke of a quill as it spelled out his name was feeding him lifeblood.

Arthur Weasley was thanking him for all the work he'd done in the Order and for looking after his children whilst he'd been in St Mungo's. Molly Weasley was apologising for accusing him of caring too much for James and not enough for Harry and also thanking him for looking after them all. Fred and George praised him to high heaven for the Marauder's Map and for being our own muse in the purveyance of magical mischief.

Countless other words were being written about him.

... If you only knew how much I'll miss you...

Remember the time we all camped out at Prongs' house and his parents thought the house was haunted?

You meant so much to Harry...

...You were a good bloke...

Wherever you are, you're still a good person.

...Innocent...

...Fun...

Remember when...?

Soon, Sirius was following Harry and Ginny down a corridor, head still reeling from all the words reverberating in his head. He felt almost alive by then, solid and real. It was giddying and he almost didn't notice where they were.

Harry and Ginny paused outside the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

"Is everyone here?" asked Ginny.

"Dunno," said Harry. He didn't want to go inside. He didn't want to see this place ever again, didn't want to remember... It wasn't just that he'd lost Sirius there. He'd nearly lost Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna in there. And Ginny. Harry sneaked a sideways glance at her. She looked oddly determined, as if she was steeling herself for what was to come. His heart was beating faster. Sirius could feel his own heart speed up a little as well.

"Thanks, Gin," said Harry quietly. Ginny turned to look at him and smiled.

"S'okay," she said and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Sirius willed his godson to take action.

At the last second, Harry turned his cheek and his and Ginny's lips met. It wasn't what Sirius would have called a proper kiss - more like a peck on the lips - but the two teenagers jumped and blushed. It wasn't the first kiss for either of them, but it was enough for now.

Harry was horrified. What on earth had possessed him to do that? But his horror faded when Ginny grinned sheepishly at him and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. You don't like him anymore, she thought sternly to herself, you don't like him- Her thoughts were cut off when Harry did what he considered to be one of the bravest things he'd ever done and took her hand in his.

With nervous smiles and entwined fingers, they walked through the door towards the room where Sirius had fallen. Behind them, Sirius whooped and punched the air with his fist. There was no way that Harry would ever have told him about that, but now he was privy to it.

There were compensations to this falling through the Veil business.

Harry and Ginny appeared to be the last to arrive. Ron noticed Harry and Ginny holding hands, but said nothing. Sirius gazed around in interest. The Order was there (with the notable exception of Snape), talking quietly together in one corner. The Weasleys and Hermione all smiled at Harry, who did not smile back. He wondered if he would have to make some sort of speech. He hadn't planned anything, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to even whisper, his throat was so tight. He would not look at the archway. Ginny squeezed his hand, and despite himself, Harry felt a little better.

Dumbledore stepped forward. Everyone fell silent.

"We are here to honour a great man," he said. "One who served the Order tirelessly for most of his adult life. One who faced great adversity and trials and who ultimately triumphed over them."

Harry wanted to ask where the triumph was in Sirius's death, but he kept silent. Sirius was trembling. They were all thinking about him, he could tell. Remembering brief moments - first and last meetings, funny anecdotes, painful recollections.

"Sirius Black was a good man. There are many things I regret that I never said to him... Things I should have apologised for. But I do not believe that death is the end." Dumbledore looked squarely at Harry, and Sirius was proud when Harry held his gaze. Not many people could hold that gaze. "Those who we truly love never truly die. We keep them with us always. When we need them, they are there."

Now it was Harry's turn to give Ginny's hand a squeeze; tears were pouring down her face. She was not the only one. Ron glanced at Hermione's tear streaked face, and felt a sudden urge to kiss away those tears and hug her. He took her hand in his and she laid her head on his shoulder.

It's strange, Sirius thought, how tender people are with each other in the face of death. You'd think we'd be kinder in life.

"Sirius may not be here in the flesh. But he will always be here in our hearts." Dumbledore turned; in his hand Sirius saw a letter, crisply folded and sealed with Dumbledore's insignia. He strode up to the dais and held his letter carefully over the fluttering Veil.

"We all loved you, Sirius... Know that."

I know it! screamed Sirius. He was weeping and laughing. As Dumbledore dropped the letter and it vanished behind the fluttering curtain, Sirius sat down on a stone step, overcome with an emotion he could not explain. He leapt up almost straight away as Remus climbed onto the dais.

"I love you, Padfoot," he whispered. Sirius ran over to him and shouted I love you too! Remus' expression cleared and he smiled softly. "Marauders infinitas." A strangled cheer escaped Sirius' lips as Remus dropped his pile of neatly bound letters through the Veil.

One by one, those gathered in the room stepped onto the dais and made a short prayer or spoke directly to Sirius, and dropped their letters. As they did, Sirius felt a weight fall away from him. He was still laughing and crying and running all over the room, unable to contain himself, but he could feel human concern fall away from him. Fear, doubt, sorrow, love, hate, despair, laughter - he was remembered by all, and the letters were proof of that.

His purgatory was coming to an end - he could feel it. He'd be moving on soon. This was a goodbye. And yet it wasn't, because everyone, without asking one another, had made copies of their own letter. Remembrance was needed by both the living and the dead.

It was time for goodbyes. Sirius ran all over the room, shouting goodbyes to the Order, telling them not to slack off, the real work had begun; wherever he was going, he said, he'd do the slacking off for them. They all smiled when he said that.

He told the Weasley twins to be good, but not too good; he told Molly and Arthur to look after Harry for him, that Harry loved them as surrogate parents. They both sniffed and clung onto one another more closely.

He told Hermione not to take any nonsense from Ron, or anyone else for that matter. He told Ron to look after Hermione; she was special. Ron nodded unconsciously and put his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her closer to him.

He told Remus that he loved him, would always love him, and that no matter what, Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would live on. Remus looked at the ceiling and wiped his eyes.

He told Ginny to look after Harry; Potters need redheads to keep them under control. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand again.

He told Harry not to worry. Nothing was his fault, sometimes things just happened. You're more like your parents than you'll ever know, he said as Harry stepped onto the dais. Harry smiled faintly. He dropped his letters through the archway.

"I won't say goodbye," murmured Harry. "That's too final."

Sirius watched the last corner of Harry's letters fall through the archway. Something inside of him lifted and he felt like he could breath freely again

Hey!he cried, and for a moment, everyone in the room looked up, puzzled at the sudden echo in the room. They all frowned, seeing a strange shadow flicker by the archway. Those are my letters!

And he dived after them, back through the Veil, back into the void. As he fell, he read the letters and laughed and wept over them.

If this is death, he thought, it's not quite as final as everyone thinks.

this is the way the world ends

not with a bang but a whimper

Marauders infinitas - Marauder's forever. I think. :P