Prologue

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- Harry! Harry! - There was a low whisper.

- What?" he said grudgingly.

There was no answer, just a haunting rustle, like a gramophone playing a record to the end. He swigged the liquid in the bottle and put his lips to it. Like a bugle-boy scout. Ta-ta-da-da-ta-ta-ta! This was the last place he'd seen Sirius before he... ducked... Unlike him, Sirius was cheerful and full of energy. He'd finally been let out for a walk, and what did a dog need? Space, pigeons and more hydrants! Fragrant yellow hydrants full of messages from complete strangers. Sometimes even bitches, strangely enough! "Rex was here!", "Hello from Essex!", "DMB-96!" - and a lot of other stuff, which you could read long and thoughtfully, sifting out the really stupid and obscene messages, and then put your foot down and carelessly scribble a few lines to your friends... You can't keep a dog in the house for six months without leaving, you can't! So he ran round the Department of Mysteries, gulping for air like a silly puppy, until his cousin sent him....

- Harry! - came the whisper again.

- Twenty-five years already Harry! - he called back angrily. - What do you want?

There was still plenty left in the bottle, so he didn't have to worry about reaching unconsciousness before he could make up his mind... In fact, there was nothing left in the world to keep him in it, too much to lose. There's hardly anything left in the place of his heart that wants to live. So why not? At least a glimpse, even if he dies in the next moment, to see what happened to the godfather... To get that little clue and maybe even close the case. It'll be a glorious hunt.

- What do you want, Harry? - came from behind the Veil.

- To make things right..." he replied absently, slowly losing the thread of his reasoning. - To not have this pain anymore...

He shook the bottle upside down, and another drop fell from it onto his tongue.

- You can't go in twice..." the voice warned.

- Whatever," he replied, struggling to move his tongue, trying to get up, but losing his balance and collapsing to the stone floor. - Damn it," he muttered and crawled towards the Veil, wriggling like a worm. - I'm ready!

- Come to us, Harry! - The voices murmured happily.

His last thought before his consciousness finally gave up under the pressure of the alcohol pounding in his head was to recognise the futility of his attempt to solve the riddle - he was no longer able to perceive anything.

There were shadows in the grey fog - it seemed to him that it wasn't fog at all, but just a blob of shadows that he'd fallen into. There was no floor beneath his feet, but he didn't feel suspended, either... It was as if he were floating in this impenetrable grey cloud. If he put his hand to his face, he could still see it, but a little farther away, it disappeared at once. The firewhiskey was killing the remnants of his floating consciousness quite quickly, and it could well be that what was happening to him was just an illusion....

The voice came from inside his head, making him flinch and the shadows around him spin faster.

- You can't come in here anymore," his beloved's voice warned him, and the grief hit him again, stabbing him right in the open wound and causing him unbearable pain.

- No," he mumbled, shaking his head and searching for the bottle with his hand. - Not her!

- You can't come in here again," said the stern voice of his school friend.

It was better - the stern tone seemed almost familiar and took him back to a carefree childhood, when the biggest problem in life had seemed to be Voldemort's resurgence and beating Slytherin in a Quidditch match.

- What do you want? - Hermione asked. - Have you chosen yet?

He shook his head. He had already forgotten what he wanted, his consciousness had broken through the ice and he plummeted into the cold river, clinging to the sharp edges of the ice hole with bloody fingers.

- All right," Hermione agreed. - So be it. You can fix it," she told someone else, "and you'll be spared your pain," she promised him.

- Wait," he muttered. - I was going to ask...

He wanted to ask what had happened to Sirius - that was the mystery he'd come here for! But the damn tongue wouldn't listen.

- He asked for freedom, and he got it," Hermione said sternly, as if she'd guessed what he wanted. - Goodbye!

It was as if huge blocks of granite were in motion, making an inexpressible scraping and rumbling sound, and it seemed to him as if the whole world had broken away and gone somewhere else, leaving a deep chasm between them, swarming with monsters. Suddenly the fog cleared, and the floor thudded against his temple, knocking out a swarm of stars that swirled around his head. He struggled to get on all fours and focused his gaze on Arc. The veil no longer rippled, but hung uselessly as a curtain. The tedious whispering could not be heard. A thought crept into his mind about something important that he had overlooked... Carefully he grasped the thought by the tail, slowly pulling it out. It was something that could help him... Something... Right, there it was! In the drawer of his assistant's desk was a brand new bottle of ice water, which had been brought to him just yesterday by a co-worker from a neighbouring department for... Shit, I forgot! Oh, whatever! A whole litre bottle of ice water fresh from Russia.

Days, weeks and months went by, one after another. Some faces that appeared in his mind only until the pain came out, after which he drowned everything again... Women's faces and bodies, other people's houses and beds, the Aurorate with its criminals again, some events, investigations - everything merged into a flickering whirlwind of images that mixed and flashed with such speed that he had no time to recognise anything....

And then it was over.