Sirius looked. Through the veil, as if the shades had paradoxically made it clearer, he saw a tall, pale figure, eyes gleaming an unghostly red over an unnaturally flat face.
He could feel, also, what Harry had meant. The prickle across his skin -- something he had taken for the horror of revisiting the scene of his death -- was something far more dangerous and glorious. Magic! His wand fell into his hand like water on a parched throat.
"Reducto!" he shouted.
It was a foolish move, of course. The Veil was indestructible. The ghosts shattered, flying apart in shimmering blobs like mercury. The floor exploded into chunks of stone, which flew through the air and crashed down all about the tattered curtain and the ghostly remains, which slowly coalesced back into transparent people.