No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of? -Hamlet
That undiscovered country
It was almost like falling asleep. One moment he was battling Bellatrix, feeling vibrant and alive as he had not done for so long. He ducked a curse, then the next moment there was nothing.
Then darkness like falling asleep, then nothing but falling, falling, falling.
And now he is nowhere. The only way to really define this place is in terms of negatives. It isn’t light here but it isn’t dark either, just a sort of grey gloominess that seems to stretch as far as the eye can see. His feet must be somewhere, because he is standing upright and they are resting on something, but that something cannot be seen for the same reason that he can see no ceiling or sky, nor really anything else for as far as he can tell.
Nothing but a sort of grey gloominess that seems to stretch on forever, like looking into the sky and seeing nothing but blue. He assumes that it must end somewhere, because nothing can really go on forever, but something about it makes him feel as though it goes on for infinity.
Tentatively, he takes a step. He can’t tell if he has moved or not, because it is the same grey gloominess with no point of reference. Perhaps he is dreaming, and will soon wake up to find himself in the cold gloominess of Grimmauld Place again. But he knows he isn’t because he never dreams about things like this, only dreams of a cold cell and his equally cold jailors who do nothing but steal his mind. So he decides to wait a while, and see if anything happens.
After a time, he finally sees someone coming towards him. He doesn’t know if it has been minutes, or hours, or days or even years, and suddenly decides that even if he knew, it wouldn’t make any difference because this place wouldn’t change. Suddenly, the person is right before him, and she stops, for indeed, it is a she.
The woman is at last a point of reference for his eyes, something to fix a here and a there, but even in this he finds that he can’t look at her long because there is something about her that defies comprehension and makes her as nebulous as the grey nothing surrounding them.
She is tall and slim with long black hair and large black eyes framed by dark lashes under equally dark brows, a contrast with the paleness of her skin, and her dress is black, although he can’t quite tell what sort of a dress it is. But even though her appearance doesn’t change, there is something almost shimmering about her that hurts the eyes after a moment and makes him think that if he looks away for an instant she would not seem thus.
He opens his mouth to speak, and realizes that he can.
“Who are you?” he asks and wonders again if this is a dream.
“Come with me,” she replies, and her voice seems like her appearance so that he almost isn’t sure if she spoke or not.
“Come with me,” she repeats, and starts walking away from him, stopping and looking back, apparently expecting him to follow. He hurries after her, realizing that he has nothing better to do.
They walk side by side through the grey nothingness, and even though there is no change in their surroundings, she walks as though she knows where she is going.
“Who are you?” he asks again.
She turns to look at him as she walks, watching him with a look more piercing than even Dumbledore’s. Finally, he looks away from the intentness of her look, though he can still feel her eyes on his face.
Finally, she looks away from him and speaks. “Some call me Trivia, Sirius Black.”
He isn’t surprised that she knows his name. She seems the sort of person, if indeed that word can be applied to her, who would know everything.
She continues. “It is my duty to safeguard travelers and roads, especially that last road that all mortals must journey on in the end. Though you are not on that road, I am to lead you to where you belong, because you are special to me.”
He gives her a puzzled look, not knowing what she means.
She laughs suddenly, a bright clear sound. “Have you never wondered why your Animagus form is as it is? Black dogs are sacred to me. Your thread was woven by the Fates to be a wanderer, because you have never had a place to be your own, full of darkness. But the darkness is sacred to me, though it has long been thought ill of. It is not all evil, though evil often chooses darkness, but a time of rest. Thus, I chose you to help you on your wanderings, and to help you find rest at last.”
After she stops speaking, they walk for a while in silence.
“What is this place?” Sirius asks suddenly, for lack of anything better to do.
“It is nowhere,” she replies simply. “It was made long ago as a bridge between mortals and the Gods because Jupiter thought that it would make travel between the two faster, but few use it now because other doorways have been made that are more easily accessible. Unfortunately, a few doorways among the mortals still exist and because few mortals can traverse this way alone, they end up being trapped here until someone finds them and leads them out.”
Sirius puzzles over this, wishing that Remus were here because he would know what this all was about. Or maybe even Hermione Granger, who seemed to have the answers for everything.
“So basically,” he says finally, putting everything together, “you’re a goddess who decided to take a special interest in me, the arch in the Ministry of Magic is a doorway to nowhere, and so you’re leading me out again. So does that mean that I’m going home?”
She replies with only one word. “Yes.”
Home, he thinks, suddenly excited. Even though home as of now means Grimmauld Place, it also means Harry, the Weasleys, Remus, Hermione, Tonks, Dumbledore, Buckbeak, and everyone else who he hadn’t realized up to now he would miss. Even if he were to be trapped in Grimmauld Place for the rest of his life, it would be worth it to be able to see them all again.
Suddenly he realizes that Trivia has stopped, and that there is a large bronze door in front of them. He stops, and she pulls the door open.
The sight before him dazzles his eyes after so much nothing. The door opens onto mountains, climbing green around him, and in the distance he sees Hogsmeade, spread out like a piece of brown patchwork. To his right through the doorway, he sees a lake, and green grounds, and best of all, Hogwarts, stone turrets tall in the summer sky.
He turns to her, tears in his eyes, and she nods for him to proceed. He walks through the doorway, feeling with delight the grass under his feet and the warm summer air on his face. The goddess follows him through and closes the door behind her. The door melts into the air, and after a moment, he is not even sure that a door ever existed there.
“Where should I go?” he asks, feeling heady with the feeling of here permeating his senses.
“Go to Hogwarts,” she says with a smile. “There is someone there waiting for you, although he does not know it.”
Before he can thank her, she walks and vanishes into the air.
He turns and changes into Padfoot and runs down the mountain, feeling more alive than he has in years. He had thought it wonderful after leaving Azkaban, but this was so much better because this had been nothing, where at least Azkaban had been something.
He runs, jumping and barking in excitement, stopping often to chase butterflies or rabbits or to smell everything.
And at last, before he knows it, he is at the gate of Hogwarts. He realizes that he ought to have come a different way because the gates are sure to be locked, but something prompts him and he changes back and places his hand on one of the gates, and it swings open silently to admit him. He walks through it, and it closes behind him.
He walks up the sloping lawn of Hogwarts, taking the sights and the sounds so welcome after being in that place. As he walks, he notices a white tomb near the lake, and feels a sudden pang of dread. He quickens his pace, realizing that he does not know how long he was there, wondering who could have died who would want to stay here, forever.
Finally he reaches the front door, but as he reaches for the handle, it swings open to admit him, just as the gate did. He walks quickly, some unknown force guiding his steps. He stops in front of the Headmaster’s office, and the gargoyles spring to life without prompting, and silently spring aside to reveal the door. He enters and goes up the spiral staircase, finally reaching the door from which he hears voices.
The door opens of its own accord, and he enters.
Dumbledore is nowhere to be seen, and McGonagall sits at his desk, looking grimmer than he had last seen her. Harry, Hermione, and Ron are sitting in chairs in front of the desk, looking tired and pale and worn and older than he had last seen them. All three turn to look at him, wearing similar expressions of amazement. After a moment, Harry jumps up and rushes over to him, seizing him in a hug.
“Sirius!” he exclaims. “It can’t be you!”
Sirius hugs him back. “It is me,” he replies quietly. “I had to come back.”