Story [Harry Potter] The Third Law

Thanks to some wonderful encouragement from a dear friend, I'm finally settling down to write this story that has been brewing in my mind for a rather long time.

The title is a reference to one of Newton's laws, proving that Newton is the most deadly sonnova -- wait, wait, that's Mass Effect, sorry...

It's been awhile since I wrote any Harry Potter fanfiction, so please excuse minor errors as they come up - and please point them out to me! The friend I mentioned earlier is going to be reading this and offering advice as well, so don't be surprised if details seem to be revising themselves before your eyes. I've gotten into this odd habit of writing on the forums directly when it comes to fanfiction. A bad habit, I know, but a habit!

In any case, here goes.

This is an AU that branches off at the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

----
Beyond the Veil
----

Sirius Black was not sure where exactly he was.

There had been the sensation of falling back, true, and the bright flare of anger at the triumphant look on Bellatrix's face. He remembered trying to call out to Harry, trying to grasp for something - anything - to pull himself back - a ledge, a bit of the black cloth of the veil - anything to get back to the Department of Mysteries. But there had been nothing to hold onto - just the blackness, just falling perpetually backwards until...

Until now.

He would have thought either heaven or hell would be less subtle. Instead the room was a rather pleasant reflection of the one he had just been in. It was calm and dark, and all that he could hear was the steady dripping of something in the corner - water, perhaps, though he couldn't tell if it was a burst pipe or a natural moistness as if he were in a cave with budding stalactites. For a brief moment of panic he thought he was back in Azkaban, but despite the darkness there was no oppressive atmosphere. It was cozy, even.

Slowly, he pulled himself up, giving a sharp wince - or rather, a small growl underneath his breath. Apparently his instinct had been, while falling, to transform into his Animagus form of a large, shaggy black dog. Given how his ribs ached, he wasn't in a hurry to reverse the process. Besides, the dim light was easier for canine eyes to process.

The steady dripping from the far corner made his ears twitch. And the veiled archway fluttered gently, oddly unyielding.

There was a soft murmur from the doorway above. He immediately scrambled to press himself into a corner, looking as inconspicuous as possible - easy enough for a black dog to do in a room full of black shadows.

"...an abnormal reading was detected so we must investigate. That is the entire basis of society - neatly ordered lines, fulfilling of contracts, duties given and completed - I am sure I have told you again and again, Penelope -"

"It's Penny, Nick."

A harsh sliver of light cleaved its way into the room like an axe biting at soft firewood. They were merely silhouettes for a moment, but their two figures became clear enough: a brown-haired and utterly bland-looking man, followed by a red-haired woman. He was wearing a uniform - the badge read Ministry of Magic, though he was not wearing robes, but instead an outfit of suspiciously Muggle-like make. She, on the other hand, looked as if she had just stepped out of some party. Her breath still stank of cheap alcohol and her high heels hit the stone floor like the lopsided gait of a drunken horse.

"My name is Nicholas, Penelope -"

"And my name is Penny. As long as you keep calling me Penelope, you're getting called Nick," she drawled.

"Penelope is the name you have on file. If it is incorrect, you should have taken care of this issue weeks ago by filling out -"

"Form eighty-one B, yeah, yeah. You keep telling me that." She stood in the sliver of light to examine her fingernails. "Hurry up, I've got places to be."

The man gave a frustrated sigh. "You aren't even going to help me take these readings? You know the Lady's orders, we're to examine this every tim

 

---
Breakfast
---

Half an hour later, Sirius had a warm fire to his back, and already it was curing many of his aches and pains. He had even made his peace with the other animal inhabitants of the townhouse. Sirius had never learned to speak Cat, or rather, the full intricate set of body language and scent cues that a dog could use to communicate with another animal. Nonetheless through a few ear twitches and stances he managed to get the few old cats to understand that he was not there to eat the tuna or to take their places on the bookshelves. The few refugee cats all were old and battle-worn, but radiated the same thankfulness for shelter and warmth that Sirius himself did.

The older woman had made herself a cup of tea, and now was settling down on the sofa. She was humming softly to herself as she opened a small basket beside the seat, and delicately pulled out a half-pieced quilt. Her calm eyes flicked down to him, and she gave him another smile. "Go ahead and settle down, dear. You look awfully tired." Gingerly, she sorted out one of the pieced blocks of quilt and started to sew.

Despite how tired he was, his curiosity still got the better of him. Afterlife or not, it was simply smart to be concerned with where he was. One could tell a lot about a person from their surroundings and right now, Sirius needed all of the information he could get.

It was a small but pleasant space - comfortably full without being cluttered, decorated but not stuffy or smothering. Bookshelves lined the small living room's walls, though most of the books were thoroughly mundane guides about practical household magic. Besides books, the shelves also held at least three grumpy cats, one missing an eye, all of them curled up as if doing their best impressions of bookends. There were a few figurines and knickknacks, most cheaply made but of sentimental value. The porcelain deer figurine on the mantle made Sirius irrationally more trusting of her, as if she came pre-Prongs-approved.

The endtable next to her mostly was there to hold an assortment of sewing notions, but there was one framed item - an elegant shadowbox, though the gold leaf on the frame edges looked as if it had been in use for some time. It took him only a moment of staring to place the dark-haired, smiling girl in the photograph - the same older woman who was now sewing on her quilt. The magical picture moved slightly, a memory preserved behind glass. The girl smiled at the camera and waved timidly before going to press herself closer to the man next to her - a man in an army uniform with a beaming smile. A handwritten label on the photograph read June 2, 1944. There was an impressive medal underneath the photograph, but no mention of what became of him.

Sirius suspected that was all of the story that needed to be told.

The clock on the mantle continued measuring time in neatly ordered beats, and it was hard to fight the urge to doze despite his curiosity and lingering wariness. Truthfully, Sirius was rather surprised at the sudden attack of sensibility. He was usually the one to rush headfirst into things - perhaps he had, following the woman and entering her home. He expected at any moment to be seized with the urge to claw his way back to the Department of Mysteries and try to use the same portal so that he could make sure Harry was safe. But, truthfully, he still was not sure that all of this was not some sort of afterlife, limbo, or purgatory. It was certainly enough of an interesting question to keep him awake, drinking in the details of the room with large brown canine eyes.

"Not going to sleep, dear?" The woman murmured gently, looking up from her sewing to give him a smile. "I can understand. It's sure to be a new place to you." She paused for a few more stitches before pinning the next block to the quilt. Sirius was momentarily content to let her talk. After all, the more she talked, the more he could figure out who or what she was. "Petra would certainly laugh at me if she caught me talking to you, but I always think animals are smarter than th

 

Woah!!

I'm VERY intregued. Where is Sirius? And what powers does this Samantha have?

Post more soon!!

 

A Sirius story!!! YAY!

Great start! I'm so intrigued to find out more about where exactly Sirius is!

 

Thank you everyone for your very kind comments! :>

I'm glad this story doesn't seem to be dragging along. It will speed up once we get to the reveal, or the first part of the reveal, anyway.

---
Dogstar
---

"I've been waiting for you -"

"Samantha, dear, he's hurt his paw," Teresa soothed, finally managing to pull the other woman away. Immediately, Samantha's face fell from an enthusiastic smile into confused disappointment. "Petra will have breakfast in a bit. Here -" Teresa shifted on the sofa. "Sit down and I'll braid your hair for you."

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded in assent and moved, her manic excitement still there, though quieted now somewhat. "He's here! He's really here, I've been waiting so long..."

"I know, dear, I know." Samantha quieted further as the brush began running through her hair, guided by Teresa's slim hands. "You've told me all about your dreams about a black dog. He'll only be with us a few days, I'm sure, but -"

"I know his name."

"You do?" Teresa smiled. "Well, if you'd like to name him, I don't see the harm. How about something regal? Prince, or Duke... Rex, maybe?"

"Dogstar," she said with the same dizzy enthusiasm.

"Doesn't that seem a little... well, long?"

"His name is Dogstar. I know it!" Samantha gave a worried huff. "I know it. He told me."

"All right, all right... his name is Dogstar, then. I'll put your hair up in a french braid, dear, i's a little bit fancier. Lucille's coming tonight, along with the barristers. I'm sure you'll be happy to see them, won't you?"

"But is Dora coming with Lucille?"

"No, dear, Dora is still at Hogwarts... it's the school term, remember? You'll get to see her come this summer..."

Sirius let his head drop before giving a yawn, his tongue unfurling like a red banner before he settled down in front of the fire more in earnest. He was tired, that was true. And sore. Perhaps just a few more minutes. Perhaps with some rest, this would all make sense. In any case, they seemed to be sliding into small-talk that he didn't care to listen to, and...

It was hours later when he experienced the uniquely canine sensation of waking up nose-first. He was standing and had the third piece of ham in his mouth before he was really awake, but to be honest, it wasn't a bad way to wake up. His last meal seemed very far away, now, and he was hungrier than he liked to admit. But as long as there were morsels of ham, well, it was only hospitable to go ahead and eat them, wasn't it? His tail wagged reflexively as he continued to follow the small cubes of ham. It was an easy enough trail to follow, even as it wound up through the foyer onto the staircase. He caught a glimpse of Samantha as he did; the woman was backing slowly up the stairs, a bowl of ham cubes - likely leftovers of some type or another - in one hand, continuing to set down the trail as she walked.

Well. He was hungry enough, and his fear of her had abated. What would be the harm?

He loped up the stairs awkwardly, shoulder still aching. It was a good opportunity to explore the rest of the house. Three stories, it seemed - a house built vertically, only a few rooms to each level. Samantha methodically continued laying out the trail, leading into her room at the end of the hall. When he crossed the threshold, he raised his head, looking around. It was a bland room, all told. A polite and grown-up looking plain bed, surrounded by bookshelves. But the bed was covered in a colorful quilt, and the bookshelves held an abrupt switch. Like a vast cavern marking the scar of an earthquake, the contents of the shelves went from dry and academic volumes to children's books - or no books altogether, but simply small stuffed animals of various shapes and sizes. One especially boring title made him laugh - The Hierophant and the Popess: Voices of Religious Order in Modern Tarot, by S. Snape. The thought of Severus Snape ever reading, or writing, such a book was ludicrous. It likely didn't hurt that the book was in a position of some honor, nearest to the bed, and was flanked by a copy of

 

Oooh interesting twist. And I'll admit that I'm ever so curious about what Sirius has gotten into.

 

This is awesome I'm about as confused as Sirius, but it's so exciting!!

 

"I'm so sorry, dear," a thin woman said, gripping Harry's arm for just a moment before being called away. Her supervisor seemed mildly furious that she had stepped away to speak with him, but he could barely manage a smile to make it worth her while.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the door, arms crossed, looking rather anxious. Being called back to the Ministry of Magic was not part of the plan, but Harry didn't object to a chance to get out of Privet Drive. The dull heartache of grief continued to weigh down his limbs, and he was glad that, for once, he wasn't the center of attention. Instead he had found a ledge to sit on and was idly kicking his feet. It was slightly insulting, being dragged out so - given the nametag that read Harry Potter - Test Subject - but he couldn't bring himself to argue.

In the daylight, it was easy to see what a mess the Department of Mysteries had been left in. A frazzled-looking wizard seemed close to tears as he swept up some of the debris. It was obvious they had been working for days on cleaning up the mess, but there was still so much yet to do. From the expression on the faces of the Unspeakables milling about, it was obvious that the battle had destroyed decades if not centuries of careful experimentation.

Harry simply could not bring himself to care. There was a space where he felt some sympathy for them might have been, a sense that it would be polite to apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to any sort of action. He had lost the one last bit of true family he had, academia be damned. He wasn't going to apologize for anything, not even if they started crying right in front of him.

It was, admittedly, far too easy to be bitter.

But he continued to kick his feet, staring at his shoelaces. He only winced when a wizard to his left twiddled with a complicated-looking contraption that gave a shrieky hum as it started up. They certainly seemed to be very serious about... something.

"Potter. Come this way, please?" One of them said distractedly, not looking up from the instrument but motioning him forward. He looked back to Shacklebolt, who nodded once; with that assent, Harry followed the given path. As it became evident they were leading him towards the room with the Veil, his stomach started to churn. Was this someone's cruel idea of a joke? Had some Ministry bigwig or powerful pureblood put them up to this, just so the newspapers could go back to discrediting him? The Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Had a Nervous Breakdown... admittedly, not as catchy, but after the last year he was certain they would print such rubbish.

One of the instruments gave a steady pip, pip, pip, and the witch holding it seemed dismayed, even as they stepped closer to the chamber which held the veil. When the door opened, Harry perhaps saw why.

The archway was still there, yes. But the flimsy, diaphanous cloth had been replaced. It did not flutter any longer like gossamer smoke. Instead they were thick, weighted down velvet curtains - a room divider, Harry supposed, only slightly less solid than a door. They were split at the middle as if meant to be entered. There were even small golden weights looped at the bottom in decorative shapes - bells, perhaps - perfectly ordinary though exotic in a way Harry couldn't explain, as if he had always imagined such doorways in some sultan's castle while he read some novel of Scheherazade's tales.

"Would you take a step forward, please?" One of the wizards muttered, looking nervous. Obediently, Harry did so. The voices were easier to hear, now - he took another step, and leaned in. It was hard to pick out threads of conversation in the tapestry of whispers, but now it was doable...

...He was supposed to break into the hen-house and kill all the roosters and tear apart the hens and break all the eggs. But now he's here. I can't be mad if he chases me and breaks my neck...

Harry's eyebrows knit together as he gave a worried frown. Perhaps he was asking too much from the Veil to have the conversations actually make sense. Behind him were more echo

 

Harry had been expecting to land a little more awkwardly. All things considered, a sprained ankle that he could walk off wasn't a bad exchange for landing safely....

At first it seemed to be the same room, only somehow much neater. He was alone. A harsh pang of regret ate at his stomach and he clawed the curtain back, but now there was a solid, invisible force that prevented him from going back. Perhaps it was a one-way trip? The curtains clung to each other, knitting together into one solid veil again with a soft golden shimmer. There was magic at work, he just couldn't tell what...

In any case, there were voices from up the stairs. There was no sense waiting for a rescue. He had to find Sirius.

The Department of Mysteries was far more clinical and neat than he remembered, but Harry had to admit most of his memories of it were of dodging Death Eaters, which didn't make for the best mental map. Fortunately there were polite signs pointing him to the elevator up, and he was quickly in the Ministry of Magic lobby. Given the late time on the clock, it was all but deserted. Everything seemed altogether too clean and neat, the central statue intact and gleaming...

"Boy! What are you doing here?"

Harry jumped, turning to see a uniformed man striding up to him. For a moment he thought it was a Muggle policeman until he saw the Ministry badge. Truthfully, the man was the least interesting person Harry had ever seen, with a completely nondescript face and mousey-brown hair. Despite his blandness, he did seem distinctly aggravated. "The Ministry doesn't officially open for four more hours! Where are your papers?"

"Uhh..." He pawed at his pockets, gulping, trying to quickly formulate a correct lie. "I've... left them at home?"

The man gave a snort before eyeing him closely. "Sneaking through the Ministry as a shortcut, were you? Bloody children gallivanting across the Lobby, happens all the time, just because they want to get home a little earlier... I bet you were off to see some girl, weren't you?"

"Oooer -"

"Not a bad walk to that non-magical subdivision. You were off to see a girl, then. Is she a Muggle?"

"Uhh..."

"Aha! No need to be bashful." His disposition immediately improved. "You're doing a fine thing, romancing a non-magical woman. A fine thing for yourself and for England. ...Because of that, I'm only going to write you a warning." The man whipped out his pad of paper, immediately starting to scrawl on it. "If any other officer asks where your papers are, tell them you've already been warned for it, but I expect you should get this matter attended to immediately. The next time someone catches you without your papers, it's a fine of no less than one-hundred-fifty galleons. Sign here, please."

"Um... of course, of course. Yeah, I won't be out without them again," Harry agreed, quickly scrawling his signature in a purposefully messy manner to obscure his name. "Definitely. Won't happen again, sir. I'm very sorry."

"Ah, quite fine, quite fine. Good luck with the girl." The officer gave him a firm pat on the back. "You'll want the exit there. Through the double doors and you'll be on your way home."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, still feeling a bit dazed (and rather glad that the bluff had worked). He paused to look down at the citation. The officer's signature was clear and forceful - N. Tonks.

Something very strange was going on here.

It only got stranger as he exited the building. The lampposts were dim, but he could have sworn for a moment he was back at Privet Drive. There were lines of neatly manicured brownstones, driveways leading off of a wide and crisply paved road. It looked... very Muggle. It would have continued to look very Muggle if he hadn't noticed the subtle details, like broomsticks instead of cars (or alongside cars). Everything was clean... neat... orderly. The buildings were new. The gardens were carefully kept.

Quite frankly, it was creepy.

Eventually there was a postbox and, next to it, a newspaper vending machine. To his surprise, it still held copies of the day's Evening D

 

Very intriguing story. Not like anything I've seen before, that's for sure.

Dog-Sirius being found by T. Riddle - what a twist! I wonder what kind of person T. Riddle is in this parallel universe... Can't wait till Harry and Sirius finally meet.

 

Oh no, I missed a couple! (Just a hint - if you update the title bar with the date of youur new posts, they'll be easier to find )

Love it! I can't wait for Harry to find Sirius

 

Thank you both for your very kind comments! :>

Some illustrations/logos for this should be coming soon, too. :>

---
Good Mornings
---

Harry had planned to walk around the block three times to make sure everyone was awake, but by the time he reached the house, he was bouncing on tiptoe in nervous energy. He knocked at the door, as politely as possible, but after there was no response for a few moments he went to knock again. Mid-knock, the door opened, and he jumped back in momentary surprise.

The woman who answered the door was likely the least threatening person Harry had ever seen.

"Oh, hello! Please, come in, dear." She stepped aside, gesturing him inside. "It's not the most pleasant morning out there, is it? I'm sure I can bring you a fresh cup of tea..."

"Um..." He hesitated at the doorstep. It was a lovely home, warm and inviting. "I'm looking for my dog - I saw the posters?"

"Of course! Please, come in. What's your name, dear?"

"Harry," he answered promptly, then hesitated. This place was so strange - it was worth it to keep some information to himself. The woman smiled brightly at him, ushering him in. She was rather grandmotherly in appearance and in demeanor, already gesturing him to a sofa.

"It's lovely to meet you." She smiled brightly, a cup of hot tea already in her hands, passing it to Harry. "This was brewed a little late, but I'll be happy to brew more."

"Um - thank you, Mrs. Riddle. That's your name, right? I saw your name on the posters..."

"Please, Mrs. Riddle is my mother. Call me Miss Teresa." She sat down across from him, smiling brightly. "I'm so glad that you've come. Your dog - he's a lovely animal, I'm sure Samantha will be down any minute now. She's been calling him Dogstar, that's probably not right at all, is it?"

Harry cracked a small smile. "It's pretty close. His name's Sirius."

"Sirius! That's lovely." Teresa smiled brightly. "Would you like any breakfast? Petra hasn't come down yet, but there's toast and leftover bacon and such - maybe a few cauldron cakes. It's the least we can do, after you let us borrow your lovely dog for a few days."

"Thank you for looking after him," Harry said, smiling nervously. "And I'm - I'm fine, thank you."

There was the sound of footsteps, and Harry flinched a little, looking back over his shoulder to the stairs. But a laughing sob of relief rushed out of him as a certain large black dog came down the stairs first. Sirius gave a happy bark, launching onto the sofa, tail wagging furiously as Harry gave him a tight hug. There would be a much better greeting later, when Sirius could be in his true form. But for now, Harry couldn't help but give a half-sob of relief. Sirius was there. Safe. Not dead. Beside him, alive, breathing, solid, real...

Teresa smiled widely, and there was another knock at the door. A black-haired woman came down the stairs, dressed in brightly-striped pyjamas, and paused in fear as Teresa went to open the door.

"Teresa Riddle." A young woman's voice - cold and perfectly polished - came from the doorway. Immediately the older woman stumbled back, looking intimidated, and the black-haired woman cowered as the newcomer addressed her: "Samantha Snape. I take it Lucille Malfoy is at her Moore-Act Compliant job." The woman took a few more steps forward so Harry could finally get a good look at her. She was dressed in a uniform, militaristic in style, and her long red hair was slicked back behind her into a severe braid.

"I - I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting company - if you like, I can -" Teresa fumbled in nervous attempts at hospitality.

"It won't be needed. I am here only for a brief message, I trust that you can pass it along to the appropriate persons. The Lady considers this of utmost importance." Her tone was icy, and the natural intimidation she seemed to wield made Harry clutch more tightly at Sirius' fur. The redheaded woman was younger than the other two, but somehow all of them seemed terrified of her. She locked eyes with Teresa. "It's pathetic yet admirable, the way you keep trying. But we both kn

 

Wow, it's like they've landed in opposite land!

I'm glad Harry and Sirius are back together

 

This has got to be one of the weirdest things I've ever read. Good work! Brilliant story.

 

Excellent story so far! I hope you are going to add more soon. I love the idea of following Sirius into the veil. Excellent detail in the story as well.