Walking Out of the Veil
Deep within the Department of Mysteries, a faint shimmer spread across the arch of the Veil of Death. The ancient stone pulsed with an eerie energy, its wisps of mist curling outward like fingers reaching into the mortal world.
A moment later, four figures stepped through.
Charles Potter staggered slightly as his feet met the cold floor of the Ministry of Magic. Beside him, Dora Potter clutched his arm, her eyes wide as she looked around at the dark, mysterious chamber.
James Potter was the next to emerge, his hand gripping Lily’s tightly as they stepped onto solid ground. His heart pounded with disbelief. He had been dead. He had felt the void of nothingness, the endless silence of the beyond. And yet, here he was, breathing, standing, alive.
Lily pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to steady her racing heart. “This… this isn’t possible,” she whispered.
“It is now,” came a voice that echoed through the chamber. A figure, draped in shadows, loomed near the Veil, its presence both infinite and suffocating. “I have brought you back to set right what was stolen. Your son needs you.”
James’ grip on his wand tightened. “Where is he?”
“Far from here,” Death replied. “Suffering at the hands of those who should have never held him.”
Lily’s breath hitched. “The Dursleys.”
Charles’ expression darkened. “We need to go. Now.”
Before they could leave, a loud alarm blared through the Department of Mysteries. The Ministry had detected the disturbance. Within moments, Aurors and Unspeakables stormed into the chamber, their wands drawn, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Impossible…” one of them whispered. “They were dead.”
Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward, his deep voice steady but laced with shock. “Identify yourselves.”
Charles straightened his shoulders, his presence commanding. “I am Charles Potter, Lord of House Potter. This is my wife, Dora Potter. My son, James Potter, and his wife, Lily Potter. We have returned.”
The room fell into stunned silence. A flurry of verification spells flew at them, confirming what the Ministry dared not believe. Murmurs of disbelief and awe spread through the assembled witches and wizards.
“The Potters have returned…”
Kingsley’s gaze met Charles’, his expression unreadable. “Then the wizarding world is about to change.”
Death’s presence began to wane, its task complete. “The world has moved on without you. But now, it will learn what it means when the Potters return.”
The chamber trembled as the last of the spectral mist faded. James turned to his father, his wife, and his mother. “Let’s bring our boy home.”
With a single thought, they Apparated away, leaving the Ministry of Magic to whisper of the impossible—that the dead had walked out of the Veil, and the rightful Lord Potter had returned.