Afterlife

Sirius looked around in amazement. He couldn't help but feel surprised - he had expected his cousin Bellatrix snarling at her after her successful strike at him with the Crucio curse. It hurt him enough to make him fall into the mysterious veil on the dais Bellatrix and him were fighting on. Where was he and what was this place?

White wisps of silver rotated around him in an endless ring that seemed to stretch on forever. Sirius adjusted his eyes a bit better (he kept wanting to see Bellatrix, and the thought had previously disgusted him). Then he was startled - the wisps of silver took the form of human beings. They looked like ghosts, and Sirius' heart beat at the thought that this was where all the dead people go. Was he dead?

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" he bellowed out loud, convinced that the ghosts were mere decorations of some sort in another chamber the veil had magically led to in The Department of Mysteries. He didn't want to believe he was dead, after all. "Harry, please be safe," he muttered under his breath. For a while the "ghosts" just swirled about him, making a funny moaning noise that made the hairs on Sirius' neck stand up.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. His godson was somewhere up there in serious trouble, and he had to save him. He proposed something in his head that he was slightly afraid to do - he'd talk to one of these "ghosts."

He approached one of the ghosts swirling about in the ring - it was a man who looked strangely familiar. Hmm, Sirius thought, jet-black hair all messed up, scrawny appearance, and spectacles? It can't be...where the HELL am I and what is James doing here? Once again he found himself in denial that he just died, so he continued on to "James" with an uncharacteristic excitement rising in him. He was shocked at first to see his friend here. If this was James, he'd see his old friend again.

"James! Stop moaning about and come to see an old friend!" he yelled out to James.

The ghost-like figure of James approached him. It certainly looked like him, except he was dressed in a toga of white. In his right hand he held his wand.

"Sirius - I was expecting you to pop up here sooner or later. I mean, you must be around fifty now? Or is it sixty? I've lost track of time in this damn place...whatever this place is. Anyway, welcome to your new home," he said casually. Sirius looked reproachful - how could James beckon him home in a place like this?

"What're you talking about, Prongs? Are you insane?" he asked him angrily.

"You need to face the facts, Sirius. You're dead," he answered. "Look at yourself if you don't believe me."

Sirius was in denial all the time, yet somehow he felt there was something different about him. He felt like he couldn't feel anything, in fact. There was a growing thought in his mind that was aroused by James' suggestion. He didn't want to believe it: Was he a ghost?

To Be Continued...