Prologue
Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrixʹs jet of red light: he was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais. It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfatherʹs wasted, once‐ handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place. Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrangeʹs triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing ‐ Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second… But Sirius did not reappear. "SIRIUS!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS!" He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out… But as he reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. "Thereʹs nothing you can do, Harry ‐" "Get him, save him, heʹs only just gone through!" "‐ itʹs too late, Harry." "We can still reach him ‐" Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go… "Thereʹs nothing you can do, Harry… nothing… heʹs gone."
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On the other side of the veil, Sirius Black couldn't hear any of that. Not because he was dead, like one might assume- he wasn't dead. Or was he? No, no he wasn't. He was able to think, and, as his Uncle Alphard liked to say, Cogito Ergo Sum. But if he wasn't dead, why was everything so dark? Why couldn't he move? Was this all a dream? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Suddenly, Sirius felt something hitting his arm. It had hurt, but that didn't matter. Ecstatic to finally have confirmed that he was still alive, that there was still hope for him to get up and return, to Harry, and Remus, and the Order, that this wasn't just his imagination that was going wild in his final moments, he opened his eyes. He looked up from the vertical position his body was in - and stared directly in Kreacher's wrinkly face.
"AAAAAAAAAHHH!" Wait, was that his voice? Why was it so high? "Young Master is going to miss his first day at Hogwarts if he doesn't get up now! The Mistress is waiting downstairs. Kreacher will leave Master Sirius alone now." The slightly irritated looking elf disappeared with a pop.
Taking in his Surroundings for the first time since he had woken up, Sirius finally realized where he was. One look in the mirror by his bedside confirmed his suspicion.
This was his bedroom in Grimmauld place - in 1971.