Sirius.
That voice.
He would have recognised Barty among thousands. Always. It had been ages since he'd heard him, he couldn't have said exactly for how long. It had been ages since he'd spoken to him. And yet.
That voice could not be ignored.
A voice, that wasn't even a cry, at most it was a whisper. His name, Sirius. In a way that no one had ever called him Sirius. Or at least not for a very, very, very long time. Loving and familiar, all soft, all honest. Full of trust and affection and admiration. Full of love.
Sirius.
A whisper, behind this curtain.
I am here.
It wasn't even a call. Not a plea. Just his name.
Sirius.
All around him, curses, shouting, rage and fighting. And the only people he had left in his life. There was Harry, his Harry, who looked the spitting image of James and Lily. Who was brave and who didn't shy away from confrontation, clever and shrewd. As popular as James and as gentle as Lily. The boy he wanted to see grow up. The boy he wanted to teach everything James and Lily could no longer. He loved the boy, he was the closest he would ever again get to his best friend - and at the same time, every moment with him was painful.
Then there was Dumbledore. Sirius could only see him from a distance, watching him struggle, with that look on his face that Sirius already knew so well. Facing, but cool. Friendly, but at a distance. He had been his teacher for years, then his mentor. Today, he couldn't say what Dumbledore was to him.
And then Remus. Moony.
His Moony.
He loved Remus. He had always been by his side, even now, after the death of their friends, after Azkaban; even now that Sirius barely really existed. He was his friend, his confidant. He loved him. He really did.
But the great love of his life was not Remus.
Sirius.
That was Barty.
Always just Barty.
Even when he wasn't around anymore. Even when they couldn't have each other for decades. Even when everything about it had been wrong. And he also knew he was dead. That it was irrational and stupid. That there was no chance there anymore. Barty was gone and so was Sirius.
And yet he could hear his voice.
Sirius.
A red light. And then there was Bellatrix's curse, hitting him right in the chest. A simple shock spell only. Sirius faltered, staggered. It wasn't a strong curse, his cousin was too wound up to cast accurately anymore. He should have just fallen over, the others would have helped him, he would have been fine in five minutes. Just a simple stupor.
Sirius, I'm here.
His eyes found 'Remus' as he fell. They looked at each other and his friend understood even before Sirius did. If he had to choose between a life in the afterlife with Barty or this, his choice was clear. Despite Harry, despite Remus, despite a life of freedom.
Sirius took a step to the side. And then he let go. Dropped, straight through the curtain, towards the voice.
Towards Barty.
