"'ne m're min'te, 'unt Petunia," Harry mumbled and turned over, dragging the nice warm blanket with him as someone tried to wake him.

"Did he just call me, Aunt Petunia?" a rather scandalised voice made it much more clearly into his brain the second time.

He would recognise those tones anywhere. As he realised Ron was talking to him, it all came back and he shot upright in bed and almost fell out the side. If his best friend had not been there to catch him, it could have been most embarrassing.

"Watch it, Harry," Ron said, "or Madame Pomfrey will have to fix your cracked skull."

He was rather dazed, but it didn't stop Harry staring around the hospital wing looking for evidence that he had not been having a bizarre dream. There were now screens round one of the other beds.

"Where is he?" he asked rather inarticulately, desperate for confirmation.

"Sleeping," Ron said as if he understood exactly what Harry was feeling.

"Madame Pomfrey says he might be asleep for a day or so," it was only as she spoke that Harry realised Hermione was even there. "She told us to tell you that he will be fine, but he's exhausted so he won't wake up for a while."

For a few moments Harry just sat there, clinging to Ron so he didn't fall out of bed as he processed this information. He had experienced it all, he had been part of what brought Sirius back, and yet it seemed so strange and dreamlike that it took forever for his mind to accept it. When it did, he gave a rather hysterical giggle and then promptly burst into tears. Ron's grip on him stiffened.

"Um, Harry?" his best friend sounded rather confused and at a loss to know what to do.

"Ron," Hermione said quickly, "don't just stand there."

There was still no change in Ron's stance and Hermione gave an exasperated huff.

"Men," she said exasperatedly. "Oh, just get out of the way," and Harry found himself being passed from one friend to the other as Ron moved and Hermione took his place.

He then became the subject of a warm hug as he let out the strain of the past few weeks in a stream of tears. Hermione rocked him and patted his back in a very motherly fashion that he had only ever felt from Molly Weasley before, and he let go as his control cracked completely.

"It's okay, Harry," his friend said gently as she held him.

At some point a warm hand was placed on his shoulder and he didn't need to look up to know that Ron had moved around the other side of the bed and was offering support in his own, awkward way. It didn't help him stop crying, but it did comfort him and help him to at least start to bring himself under control. When he began to hiccup (thanks to the sobbing) he began to think about what was actually going on and he could not help feeling a bit of a prat. His friends had come to wake him up and see if he was okay and he had promptly turned into a hysterical wreck. Harry was more than a little mortified.

He drew back from Hermione with his face colouring from more than the crying, hoping his friend's shoulder was not too soggy. For a moment he considered wiping his face on his pyjama sleeve, before a brightly coloured hankie was offered to him. Accepting it he looked up to find that Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore had joined Ron and Hermione at some point.

His mortification grew.

Taking the opportunity to hide, he buried his face in the handkerchief and tried desperately to stop hiccupping.

"Take is slowly, Mr Potter," Madame Pomfrey's professional tones informed him calmly, "you've had quite a shock."

The hysterical giggle threatened again, but he refused to lose it a second time and swallowed the reaction as best he could. Looking up he hoped he did not look as much of a mess as he felt. Inwardly cursed as he hiccupped again. Madame Pomfrey passed him a glass of water.

"Little sips," she instructed, without the slightest hint that she was unimpressed with his behaviour.

Aunt Petunia had always turned her back on him when he cried, and Uncle Vernon used to yell, so he wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole situation. No one seemed upset with him, but he was sure that blubbing all over the place could not have pleased anyone.

"Feeling better, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a very fatherly tone.

Sipping his water, Harry gave a small nod. He still felt a little wobbly, both physically and mentally, but he was pretty sure he could manage.

"If you don't mind, Mr Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, taking over from the headmaster and giving him a small smile, "now that you are awake I would like to give you a check up to make sure you are not suffering any lingering effects from your experience."

Harry wasn't sure how much scrutiny he could put up with at the moment, since he was self-conscious and hideously embarrassed, but he nodded again anyway. With her usual efficiency the school nurse went to work, and Harry tried to sit there patiently. A couple of diagnostic spells and a little prodding later Madame Pomfrey gave him a much more confident smile.

"You will need rest for a day or so," the healer said, and she sounded as if she felt this to be a personal triumph, "and you could do with several good meals, but other than that, you are in perfect health, Mr Potter."

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, still not sure how to react.

The healer turned in place and fixed each one of his visitors with a stern gaze.

"Do not over tire him," she said firmly, and walked away.

Dumbledore gave him a warm smile as Harry looked at his companions through his fringe. He wondered briefly if they would go away if he hid under his covers and refused to come out. The burning in his cheeks would just not leave him as he kept remembering what an idiot he had just made of himself.

"Well, My Boy," Dumbledore said with the usual grandfatherly persona in place, "you gave us quite a scare, but in this case, I believe we all agree that the means to the end was worth every moment of worry. Would you care to tell us what happened?"

Guilt at what his surrogate family must have been going through threatened to add to the turmoil of emotion already going through him and Harry had to bite back on the urge to start crying again. It was a bit like being on an out of control broom. He fixed his eyes on his hands in a desperate bid to bring himself under control.

"If you would rather wait until you have had some time to recover," Dumbledore said kindly and placed a gentle hand on Harry's arm, "that will be perfectly acceptable, My Boy."

Shaking his head, Harry let his eyes flick up for a moment before taking a deep breath and demanding of himself that he take a hold of his mind and deal with this like an adult. Hermione perched herself on the edge of the bed and took his hand, patting it in a most motherly fashion. When he glanced at her she smiled in a very supportive manner.

"Sorry," he said quietly as he gathered his thoughts.

"What for, Mate?" Ron asked with a genuinely confused tone.

"For blubbing all over you," Harry said in a very tiny voice.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said seriously. "Harry, you brought Sirius back from beyond The Veil; he was dead, a little emotion is to be expected."

"Hermione is correct, Harry," Dumbledore said in his most patient and wise tone, "please do not worry about such matters."

Harry really wasn't sure if he believed them, but it was nice of them to try and be nice about it. Taking another sip of water, he gave Hermione a small smile and used her presence to bolster his courage.

"Sirius wasn't dead," he began eventually. "The Veil is a gateway." Trying to order his thoughts into some logical order was not as easy as he had hoped, and he dragged up the facts slowly. "It goes to the other side for spirit energy, at least that's what I was told, but for living people it takes them somewhere else, somewhere dark."

He shivered at the memory of the darkness. It had been one of the most frightening experiences of his entire life and he had quite a few to choose from.

"The darkness is suffocating," he said in little more than a whisper as he remembered the tendrils of blackness, "it tries to smother the life out of you."

Staring at his hands he barely saw the real world as his mind filled with the blackness which had been haunting him for weeks.

"You have been to this place, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Looking up, Harry nodded, using the view of the headmaster's face to banish the terrifying thoughts from his head.

"But not physically," he tried to explain, but it seemed so dreamlike now and sounded strange when he said it out loud. "Sirius was calling me."

The whole idea was pretty far-out even for a wizard, but Harry knew he had to explain somehow.

"I didn't know what was happening to begin with," he did his best not to sound completely insane; "I just kept having these nightmares of nothing but darkness. He said I was the only one he could reach. I don't really know how I got there, but I was pulled in and the darkness attacked me, but Ignulus found me and made it retreat."

"Ignulus?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

Ideas were tumbling about in his head and Harry realised they were popping out of his mouth with little to give them any sense to his companions. He took another calming breath and set about organising what he knew with something resembling sense.

"Igulus is the," Harry wasn't quite sure how to describe his temporary passenger, "being," he decided on eventually, "who opened the gateway from this side to bring Sirius back. It called itself a Shadow Dweller. They exist there, beyond The Veil. Ignulus said they used to talk to Wizards, but it was a long time ago for us. The Veil was a mistake made by a wizard some time in history; I don't think it is really supposed to exist. Facis, another Shadow Dweller, was inside Sirius, keeping him alive there."

"And you allowed this Ignulus," the headmaster asked as Harry paused again to gather his thoughts, "to possess your body to create the gateway."

Harry nodded.

"They can create gateways from here to there while on the other side, but to create one from there to here they have to be here," he tried to explain, but he knew so little himself that it sounded stupid and inept. "They enjoy contact with humans; I don't really understand why, but they said that if Sirius stayed there, he would become one of them and they wanted to save him. I just did what they asked me to."

Dumbledore appeared very serious when Harry gathered the courage to look up at the older wizard.

"And you realise how dangerous that could have been to your person, do you not?" the headmaster asked, the twinkle gone from his blue eyes once more.

It had never really occurred to Harry that he had any choice in the matter, let alone that what he had let Ignulus do was dangerous.

"I had to get him back," was all he could think to say.

Dumbledore's expression softened.

"I am aware of what you had to do, My Dear Child," the headmaster said warmly, "but trading your life for Sirius' would have been a most regrettable transaction. You are precious to us, Harry, please try to remember that."

The angry, bitter teenager Harry had found himself to be over the past year wanted to shout that it was only because of the prophesy, but as he looked into Dumbledore's eyes, he saw a warmth there that belied that statement. He found himself wanting to cry again as his shaky grasp on his emotions slipped at the realisation of what he had put the headmaster and his friends through. Looking down he tried to blink away the tears, but this time they would not go, and he felt his mask begin to crack.

The bed moved as Hermione stood up and he felt his hand released, but before he could react strong arms wound around him. The smell of old books and lemon drops filled his nose as he was pulled into a warm embrace and he could do nothing but let himself relax into it. He needed the support and the comfort, and he could not hold to his Gryffindor bravery anymore. The betrayal and anger he had been feeling all summer began to crumble as he cried silently.

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "what have we done to you?"