Harry sat quietly at one end of the dinner table at 12 Grimmauld Place, his fork twirling absentmindedly in his pasta. The last thing he could think to do was eat, but Mrs. Weasley had insisted he at least come out of his room for a bit of dinner. His stomach was twisted in knots, and though he'd been lying in bed since being back from the Ministry, his body ached from the battle. His skull felt as if it was caving in on itself, making it difficult for him to even lift his head when Remus came up from behind him, giving Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze before taking a seat next to him.

Harry appreciated Remus' silence, and his small reminder that he was grieving with him. If it weren't for him, Harry probably would have chased Sirius into the veil, inevitably causing his own death, and.. well.. it didn't sound like a bad idea at this point. With the last connection to his family now gone, the only thing to look forward to was the wrath of Voldemort from every direction, and it was clear his visions would only get worse, especially after his disastrous attempt at Occlumency.

After Mrs. Weasley's third request for Harry to at least take some sips of his water, he lifted the cup to his lips, allowing the cool liquid to coat his painfully dry throat. He couldn't deny that, after emptying the glass, he at least felt a bit more human.

As he set his cup back down, the grumbling of a familiar house elf made his muscles tense, though it was too quiet behind the clanking of his cleaning for him to make out. It was followed by the faintest bark just outside the building.

His hand paused, still clamped around the cup, leaning forward in his seat. "Did anyone else hear that?"

Ron glanced in Harry's direction, likely just as startled as he was at the hoarseness of Harry's unused voice. Ron shrugged. "Hear what?"

Harry caught the faintest sound of Kreacher's voice between the clinking of silverware."Master...the blood traitor..."

The words hit Harry like a blade to his chest. Of course Kreacher would be gleeful. Of course he'd be reveling in Sirius' death.

"You foul, disgusting little-" Harry shot up from his seat, the chair screeching against the floor. His crackling voice rose before he could stop it. "You have no right to talk about him! Not after everything you-"

"Harry." Remus stalled him, his hand grasping firmly on his arm as it reached back to draw his wand.

The room froze. Ron looked uncomfortable, his hand hovering near his fork. Hermione's face was pinched with concern, her lips pressed into a thin line. Mrs. Weasley had paused mid-step, a biscuit falling off the platter she was holding and onto the floor.

Harry's chest heaved as he glared at Kreacher, who turned slowly, his wrinkled face stuck in its usual scowl. "The boy should not raise his voice at Kreacher," he sneered as he turned away and shuffled down the hall. "He will feel his disgraceful presence soon enough."

He twisted his head toward the hallway. "What did you just say?"

No one spoke. Not one of them could say what Harry was hoping for: that Sirius was still out there.

His pulse quickened as the silence stretched. He knew the truth, didn't he? But in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered, what if? What if there was something they didn't understand? His mind flashed to the sound of Kreacher muttering to himself, the strange words that hung in the air like an omen.

Hermione broke the silence. "Harry, it's just... Kreacher's always saying strange things."

Harry, unconvinced, glanced at the others at the table, all of them bearing revoltingly sympathetic looks on their faces. Harry was tired of being looked at like that. Like he was fragile. Like his gried was something they couldn't understand.

He shook his head, his chest heaving. "He... He said something...someone's here."

"Sirius." He whispered quietly, his heart hammering. The name felt strange on his tongue, as though saying it aloud might somehow make it true.

"Sirius." He whispered again, louder this time, looking at Remus expectantly as he placed a hand on Harry's back.

Though he hoped to find reassurance in his expression, Harry saw the same grief reflected in Remus' eyes- the pain of losing his friend, a wound that would never heal. His gaze shifted to Mrs. Weasley's instead.

"Harry, dear, you know that's not possible." Her voice was soft, gentle, as though she were breaking bad news to a child.

Ron spoke up after her, hesitating. "We don't blame you, mate. You're still dealing with everything that happened...We all are." He glanced around the table, searching for agreement.

Hermione nodded, her voice dripping with sympathy. "We know it's hard, but Sirius... He fell through the veil. He's gone, Harry."

Silent tension blanketed the table. No one, not even Ron, dared to take another sip of their drink or a bite of their pasta.

Harry sat back down and locked his gaze onto his plate, his cheeks reddening with a mix of frustration, anger, embarrassment, and grief. His shoulders slumped in defeat, his hands wringing together under the table.

They were right. It was impossible that Sirius could ever come back. He had seen it happen- Bellatrix's curse, the look of shock on Sirius' face as he fell, the veil swallowing him whole. He could still hear Bellatrix's cheers echoing in his head, flaunting her victory. But was it so wrong to hope? After everything he had endured, could he not be allowed to wish for a sliver of happiness, or even relief?

A quiet thud broke the silence as Luna closed her book and set it on the table. "It's not entirely impossible, you know." She said matter-of-factly, as though they were discussing the weather.

All heads snapped toward her, even Harry's. If anyone could fuel his desperate fantasies, it was Luna.

Hermione dropped her shoulders, her frustration barely concealed. "Luna..."

Ron raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "What are you getting at?" His tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but it was laced with subtle intrigue.

Luna was unfazed by their doubtful responses, looking only to Harry as she spoke, "The veil is only a space between life and death. More like a curtain really. Thin, fragile. Someone with the right magic could pull it aside. Sirius' return is completely plausible."
Harry blinked at Luna, his eyes widening and chest tightening as hope began to rise against his better judgement. "You mean... Kreacher isn't lying? He's... he's not really gone? He could-"

Hermione's solemn look shifted to worry. "Luna, that's not possible," she said, shaking her head. "The veil- it's-"

Luna interrupted, her big round eyes still locked on Harry's. "You know as good as I do, Harry. Magic is never as simple as life or death. There's... more in between."

Something coursed through Harry's body, a jolt of electricity making him feel more alive than he had in weeks. He wasn't sure if it was the sparkle in Luna's eyes, Kreacher's incessant muttering, or pure delirium on his part, but he had to see for himself.

With his heart racing, he jumped up from his seat without a word, sprinting out of the dining room.

"Where are you going?!" Ron called after him.

Hermione had stood from her chair as he did, "Harry!"

His momentum nearly collided with the wall on the other side of the hall, and he pushed off of it with his arm, propelling himself forward and toward the entrance of the house. He rounded the final corner, skidding to a halt as he saw someone standing just inside the front door.

The figure was smirking, his arms crossed over his chest. "Took you long enough to figure it out, didn't it? I was starting to think that miserable elf would mutter me into oblivion before you caught on."

Harry froze, his breath catching as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, but his legs felt rooted to the spot.

"Sirius?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

He outstretched his arms, a grin tugging at his lips as he invited Harry into an embrace. "C'mon boy. Did you really think I'd let a little thing like death keep me away from my godson?"

Harry willed his feet to move. They did, slowly, one hesitant step after another. His hand lifted from his side, trembling as it reached out, desperate to test the validity of his vision. The moment his fingers brushed the familiar leather of his jacket, he lunged forward, collapsing into Sirius' arms. His own arms wrapped tightly around the man, gripping as though he might vanish at any moment.

"Sirius, I-" he choked on his words, overwhelmed by the waves of emotions crashing over him. Relief, disbelief, and something that felt dangerously close to hope swirled in his chest.

If this wasn't real- if it was all a fleeting dream or some cruel trick- he didn't care. For now, he was here, solid and warm in his embrace, and that was enough.

[well, there you are, the beginning of my first attempt at a fanfiction. Let me know what you think! How do you think they were able to bring Sirius back? - K;)]