Doors

"When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us."

-Alexander Graham Bell

* * * *

Huh?

Why's it so dark? Am I sleeping or something? No, I wouldn't be able to think if I was asleep. Would I? My eyes aren't closed. Wait - I can't tell. Where are my eyes? Where - where are my hands? What the hell's going on?

I need to - to - wake up or something. I need to fight. Harry and them are in trouble - Moody's down - what if everyone's down? I need to get out of wherever I am now. Asleep? C'mon, someone, get me up. Slap my face. Shake me. Anyone...?

C'mon, I need to SEE!

A giant lightbulb was turned on - no, it was sunlight - well, it didn't matter what it was, Sirius was up and ready. He was standing. He hadn't stood up himself. He didn't question this for more than a second, and immediately turned around and ran -

Straight into a wall.

Rubbing his head, he lay with an elbow propping him up. Where the hell did that wall come from? It wasn't there before. I've never seen this wall. Did someone charm it there? Why isn't my head throbbing? I should have broken my nose!

He got up surprisingly easily, and once again his thoughts were turned to getting to Harry. He dashed down a corridor with boring red wallpaper and wood floorboards, and his footsteps echoed loudly as he ran. There was a door at the end of the corridor, no less than 30 meters away. He didn't even question how he got here, nor why he was so determined to go through that door when - when there were doors on the walls - the suddenly blue walls - there were doors lined up all over -

He stopped. There hadn't been any doors except the one he was originally running to, he was sure. He turned around, and saw in astonishment, that there were doors running for miles. The wall he had plowed into was gone.

Alright, they've got some creepy stuff in the Department of Mysteries, he thought dismissively, and shooting one last glance suspiciously behind him, he dashed toward the door at the end of the hall once more.

It was a nice white door, unlike all the other ones which were a deep, ordinary brown. White was a welcoming color. This had to be where everyone was.

He grabbed the knob, pulled the door open, and suddenly got the strangest feeling. There was an enormous breeze, but none of his clothes or his hair were rippling or blowing back like they should have been. The room was pitch black; the powerful, uncomfortable darkness he had seen just a minute ago. He heard a whistling in his ears, and his breath was growing shallow; he wanted to step back and run, run as many miles as it would take to get all the way to the other end of the corridor -

But he didn't. Instead, he involuntarily fell forward into the cold, drowning darkness.

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

Someone was trying to wake him up. It really was a dream. He had been stunned perhaps, or hit with some sleeping spell. Just a nightmare.

He didn't feel anyone shaking him, but he waited. Someone would surely pick him up by the arms or nudge him or even just breathe on him.

But he just heard yelling. Pained, angry, distressed shouting. "SIRIUS!"

Sirius wished he could go to them. If only the voice was clearer, he could tell who it was.

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

So Harry was shouting. Why was Harry shouting his name? Sirius was only unconscious. If you're worried about me, come wake me up, damnit!

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

Gone through what? I haven't gone through anything. Except through that doorway. No, that was a dream. Not real. Damnit, what's going on, I need to get up. Harry needs me.

"It's too late, Harry - "

"We can still reach him - "

Too late for what? What happened? Why can't they reach me? Ok, I'm really getting sick of black. Note to self: change my name to Sirius Green.

He saw. Hazily, but enough to make out two figures. One was struggling against a taller one. He fought and shouted and groaned - dark hair, very thin - Harry. Yes, Harry was calling his name, but why was he struggling? What - who - was holding him back?

Tall, pale-ish skin, sandy-colored hair - Remus. Yes, that was Remus' voice, now that Sirius thought about it.

Wait, why's he pulling Harry away? What the hell - why aren't they coming to get me? Are they gonna leave me to die?

"There's nothing you can do, Harry..."

That's bull - Harry can do lots of things. More things than I could. Let go of him Remus, leave him alone -

Harry's blurry outline stopped squirming, but his arms did not drop.

"...Nothing..."

They fell very slowly to his side.

"He's gone."

It wasn't the complete, chilling blackness anymore. No, it was very slightly tinted red. A nice color. Much nicer than jet black. And white, even the welcoming kind.

He just breathed, and stared into the red-blackness. He filled his lungs slowly, counting to ten, and emptied them while counting to twenty. That's what he did when he was anxious or angry or depressed. Just laid and breathed and counted.

Can I open my eyes? I can't tell - do I exist?

Wait - I'm breathing, aren't I? Of course I exist.

Merlin, it was a nightmare. I didn't die. Harry wasn't yelling.

Was I really at the Department of Mysteries? Had I been tending Buckbeak's broken wing?

Had I even lived at Grimmauld Place?

Everything's so vague - no, I can't remember - it was all imagined, or dreamed - that's what happens after dreams, you start to forget them.

"Are you just going to lie there, or will do you something?"

Sirius stopped breathing. He stopped thinking. Utterly startled, he didn't know what to do. That is, except open his eye a crack.

Black, untidy hair. An indistinct outline of spectacles.

Gaining back his ability to breath, he gasped involuntarily.

"Harry?"

So it had been a dream. He opened his eye all the way, and then the other one.

"Guess again."

Everything came into focus, and he stared forward at the person. A white shirt, thin-wired, round glasses, dark, shaggy hair, and glassy brown eyes -

Sirius couldn't believe what he was seeing. He blinked, and blinked again, and rubbed his eyes confusedly.

"I'm having the weirdest dream," he muttered. It's not him, he's dead - he's been gone fifteen years -

The man gave Sirius an offended glare. "Well, I'd've though you'd remember me."

Sirius's mouth was hanging open, but no sound came out except a weak croak.

"It's great to be with you again, Padfoot."

Sirius didn't respond, but just leapt forward at the man and hugged him as hard as he could. He was trembling terribly.

"J - James - "

"So you do know my name!" said James, pushing Sirius away playfully. "I was worried for a second that you'd forgotten all about me." He grinned.

Sirius was getting a headache. What's going on - what's James doing here? He died. He's buried at the cemetery in Godric's Hollow - I saw him lowered -

James' smile faded as he examined Sirius' face. "Sirius." He rested his hand on Sirius' shoulder, and sighed. "I'm real sorry."

"About what?" said Sirius before he'd thought about what he said. His voice sounded strange coming from his mouth, like it wasn't even his own. He felt dizzy.

James shook his head slightly, and looked down. "You weren't ready."

"Ready for what?" Sirius's ears buzzed.

"Sirius, this isn't a dream. You're dead."

Dead.

The words hit him harder than Bellatrix's hex. This isn't a dream.

No, I can't be dead. Harry needs me. The order needs me.

Sirius gaped, horrified, at James, and edged backward out of his touch.

No, this isn't happening. Harry's still out there fighting - Remus, what will Remus do? He hasn't got anybody now -

Sirius pushed himself up, still staring at James.

"No. You're dead."

James half-smiled, but his eyes didn't sparkle like they normally did. "So why do you think you're seeing me? I'm not see-through, am I? I'm not a ghost."

Sirius edged backward more. "I don't know why you're here. I'm hallucinating." He hit himself in the head with the base of his hand. "I'm going insane."

"No, Padfoot - "

"You're not really there! I can't hear you! I can't see you!" yelled Sirius dumbly. Giving James one last disbelieving look, Sirius turned around to run. His feet hit the marble floor of a large, long, white marble room. There was a door, and Sirius made for it as fast as he could. Yes, that was where he needed to go. He'd find his answers there. Harry would be there, and Remus too, and Dumbledore. They'd greet him and take him back to Grimmauld Place - no, Hogwarts. Yes, Hogwarts was much safer, and much more like home than any other place. He reached the door and bumped it with his hip while wiggling the knob. He fell right through and onto the floor. As he scrambled up, he kicked the door shut and looked around.

It was a grand room, with a high ceiling that was painting with clouds that looked so real that you'd think rain would drip from them any second now. There were two magnificent chandeliers bedecked with hundreds of flickering candles. Four long tables and many stools were lined next to each other with plates, goblets, and silverware. At the front of the room were a few steps which led up to a platform that another lengthy table stood on.

It was the Great Hall.

Sirius didn't even wonder how he had gotten into the Great Hall, or where the extra door had come from. He was too awed.

It was just as he had remembered it - just like it was when he had seen it last, back in his seventh year, minus all the shimmering decorations that had been hung in celebration of graduation.

It seemed awfully empty, though, and Sirius couldn't figure out why. He walked down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, occasionally picking up a silver spoon or fork and twirling it between his fingers.

Silver...I remember Monny used bronze utensils. Other students began to ask about it, so Dumbledore charmed it to look silver.

As Sirius put down a fork, the clatter of it against the wood surface rang in the hall, piercing the silence.

"Doesn't seem right without people in it, does it."

Sirius spun around to see James situated comfortably at the Gryffindor table, examining his reflection in silver plate. He drew back his lips to pick at his teeth with his fingernails, ran his tongue over them, and returned the plate to its spot.

Sirius stared for a moment, then nodded dazedly. "Why isn't anyone here? Isn't it about breakfast time?"

James chuckled. "Sirius," he began, standing up and making his way slowly around the table. "There is no such thing as time."

"No such thing as time?" Sirius repeated questioningly.

"Doesn't exist here. No morning, no afternoon, no night."

"Of course there is. You're going mad." Sirius tilted his head up to examine the distinctly blue sky littered with wispy clouds.

James heaved a sigh, and ran a hand idly through his hair. He stood a few feet away.

"This doesn't really exist. None of this exists. What we're in may look like the Great Hall, it feels like it, it even smells like it - but it's not. You see what you want to see. Whatever makes you happiest."

"Like the room of requirement?"

"More than that. But less, too," said James. "You can do whatever you want. If you're hungry, you'll get a meal. If you're bored, you'll get a game. If you're lonely - "

"What does this have to do with anything?" Sirius snapped doggedly. "I have no clue what you're talking about!"

James looked straight at Sirius. Sirius noticed something then that he hadn't before; his face was lined and creased, and although he didn't look older, he looked more adult than Sirius remembered him.

"I've forgotten how completely stubborn you tend to be," said James, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I know it's hard to acknowledge. I went through the same thing, as you can imagine. I was just as lost, and for a long time went without seeing anyone, always either seeing nothing or running down excruciatingly long corridors, calling Harry's and Lily's names. I couldn't figure out where exactly I was, and I felt like I was constantly looking for something. I didn't know what.

"One time, though, I went through a door that struck me as particularly odd as I sprinted down the corridor: I can't remember now what exactly was different about it physically, or if there was really a tangible difference, but mentally it was as if it was a door I'd stepped through before, like it was a place I belonged.

"I went in, and I was in the boys' dormitory. All the beds were unmade and cloaks were strewn on the floor, but it was completely still in there. It felt wonderfully like home, but at the same time, I felt out of place. I laid the on the beds, each of them, thought up pranks, even pretended to study - but still, I felt awkward. It was then that I grasped what I hadn't earlier - you can get what you want, but until you discover what you truly, honestly desire - you'll be lost."

"Well, what did you desire, then?" said Sirius in a undertone.

"I desired love, Sirius. I desired the companionship that I had with you and Moony and Wormtail back in our days at Hogwarts. I desired the triumph we shared after a Quidditch victory. I desired the bond we felt as we accompanied Moony every full moon, questing in the Forbidden Forest and the mounts outside Hogsmeade. I desired to have what I had been without for a little over a year.

"And that's when I found Lily. She was a few doors down in our first apartment, the one above the Muggle wig shop in Notting Hill. I went in, and she just looked at me as if she knew how I felt...as if she had been waiting for me. She had never been very patient. She came up to me simply embraced me. I had found what I was looking for."

"But she wasn't one of us," said Sirius sourly.

"You still had life to live, Sirius," said James. "You had a place in the world - to be the godfather of Harry."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "A terrible godfather, at that."

"You did just fine." James' hand was on Sirius' shoulder. "If it wasn't for you, Harry wouldn't be where he is now. He's growing up, he's learning lessons, and he's shaping a magnificent future. You did everything right. I can't thank you enough."

They hugged for a very long time, and Sirius fell into calm nothingness.