I, the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter Three: Good memories are harder to take

"Sirius Black, you are a wicked little genius." "Will you, Lily Evans, take this man to be your husband?" "Oh, please, is that all you can think about?" "Detention! For all four of you!!" "To have and to hold, till death do you part?" "Sometimes you really worry me, Padfoot." "Potter! Black! To my office!!" "Till death do you part?" "You're the craziest guy I've ever met... and yet you're the best friend anyone could wish for." "Till death do you part?" "Long live the Marauders!" "TILL DEATH DO YOU PART?"

I jerk awake and sit there for a moment, panting. Only after a few minutes does my mind stop spinning. Their voices, in my head... I haven't heard them for a long time. They were all so happy. We were all so happy...

How does it feel, happiness? For a brief moment, there, in my dreams, I caught an echo of what it must have felt like. A lifetime ago.

I gaze around. It is not a rare thing these days that I wake up wondering where I am - not only do I expect to find myself in the cell during those seconds of waking up, but it has also grown normal that I cannot remember how I got here, when I fell asleep, how I have remained unharmed, how I am still alive. Often I just collapse while running, in the middle of a forest, where I am now. A rare thing, however, is what happened to me this time: Transforming during the night. I have become so used to it now that I can transform in my sleep - literally. Professor McGonagall would be delighted.

I stand up and put my arms around my body in a reflex, shivering. My robes are damp from lying in the moss, and the sun is barely shining through between the dense leaves above me. I start walking, slowly, and realize I am limping slightly from my last encounter with another dog. All of a sudden, I can hear James' voice inside my head, a voice that's audibly smirking. "Fabulous, the dog. You do realize, however, that we will have to take drastic measures as soon as you start peeing on walls and fighting with strays?" A ghost of a grin passes over my face, but it is gone a second later.

The good memories are almost harder to take than the bad ones. I have nearly grown used to the screams, the bodies... they were my daily companions in the fortress. Never was I able to think about the years before - before it all happened... now that they are suddenly rushing back to me, it is more than I can stand.

I try to concentrate on the present. It's a grim one, but definitely less confusing. Somehow get on the train to Hogwarts, find Peter. I frown. I certainly cannot pretend to run as fast as the train and jump on, even as a dog, not in my condition. I don't have a wand, so stopping it is impossible. Unless...

"What would a Muggle do?" She used to ask this question very often, when one of our pranks had gone wrong, when we were trapped somewhere without a wand. She always came up with the most brilliant suggestions, showing a creativitythat maybe pure-blood wizards have long lost. What would a Muggle do, indeed?

**

The night has fallen. I sat there on a treestump in front of the forest, watching the sun set behind the hills, feeling the soft breeze on my skin... How can something so simple be so beautiful?

It has started to rain, first slowly and quietly. Now the rain is getting thicker, more violent, making a regular noise against the trees above me and blurring my view.

It must be here soon. I turn my head around instinctively to look for it, but I still can't see it. My gaze turns back to the rails down in front of me. A couple of thick branches are lying in the way, hopefully making it impossible for the train to go on. Having explored every possible corner not only of Hogwarts, but also of the school train, I found out long ago that there are almost no powerful wizards on it, just the witch pushing the trolley and the driver.

Even if it is just for a minute... it will give me enough time to find the boy and jump on the train. Whatever happens after that is not of importance, as long as I find him.

I am still staring at the rails. Something inside of me that looks suspiciously slimy and greasy-haired is sneering at me. Branches in the way of the Hogwarts train, honestly. One could think you never entered the school in the first place. I stare back at the boy in front of my inner eye. The memory of him does not confuse me at all, of course - it doesn't exactly qualify as good.

There. From far away, I can finally hear the faint whistle and the puffing of the Hogwarts Express. It will be here in a few minutes. I run down towards the rails, stopping at the end of the forest, just below the last trees. I can see it now. It looks so painfully familiar that, for a moment, I have the odd feeling of being transported back in time, once more sitting in a compartment, watching the landscape pass by (although if this were a realistic vision, I would be more likely running through the corridor setting off dungbombs). I can hear the other boys' voices, and mine, planning what rule to break next, laughing freely, looking forward to another Hogwarts school year -

I shake my head violently. Focus, Padfoot. The train is getting slower and slower, its wheels screeching, and finally comes to a stop.

Time for action. I leap out of my hiding place and start running along the train, my eyes scanning every window, looking for the boy. The rain is falling heavily against the windows, slapping into my face and draining me. Nearly everyone in there is looking confused, sticking their heads out into the corridor or picking up luggage.

Where is he? I can't imagine I've missed him. His face, his whole body down to his shoulder have been imprinted into my memory from the numerous times I stared at the picture. Sometimes, when I close my eyes now, I can see him waving at me almost mockingly, as if he were saying 'he's right here on my shoulder, now come and get him!' Indeed.

I have almost reached the end of the train. From the front, I can hear voices getting louder, doors are being opened. In a few moments, my chance will be over, the train will drive on - I must find him...

I have reached the last window - and there! there he is... I can even see the lump in his pocket... he is standing up talking to a bushy-haired girl and - Harry. Without even wanting to, I am once again filled with hatred. Always chose your companions well, didn't you, Wormtail?

I throw a last glance into the window, at Harry, and start off around the train to jump on through one of the doors - but what...

I didn't notice the man sitting across from the three children, fast asleep. What is Remus doing here? I stare at him, taking in his shabby appearance, the lines in his face, the grey streaks of hair. He looks tired, exhausted... old.

I try to force myself to look away, but almost against my will I continue staring at him, through him, inside of him. What is he dreaming of just now? Can he, too, hear them cry? Does he remember the old days, happier days? Or has he forgotten it all, are the memories too painful for him, has he wiped them from his mind deliberately? Three of his friends dead, and the fourth their murderer...

Moony, old friend, if only I could have explained it to you... but would you have believed me? I still can't turn my gaze away from him, although something inside me is screaming, do it now! Your chance is almost over! when, suddenly...

No... by all Gods, no... what are they doing here? A pained yelping escapes me as a horrible, yet so familiar wave of cold breaks over me, and I can feel the despair, the terror, for a moment I can see my cell again, I have to get away from here, I have to escape...

With the last bit of strength I turn around and gallop forwards, panting, into the forest, without thinking, and after what feels like hours, I sink down onto the cold moss, but the cold inside me is now gone.

Will they be following me everywhere now? I should have known. I should have anticipated this... but I cannot bear the creatures... they must have sensed me... will they sense me everywhere? Will my life be a constant run from them? In wild panic, I jump again and try to run, but my body does not allow it anymore, I collapse again.

It's your fault really, I think to myself after a while, after having calmed down a bit. Reminiscing when there are clearly more important matters at hand. I will need to stop myself from getting sentimental next time.

**

This is turning into a lovely routine. Where am I this time? I am lying flat on my back, on hard, cold soil, and am marvelling once again at the fact that there are neither Aurors nor Dementors around me, and, what is by far the most important thing, that my mind is unbelievably clear and peaceful.

I stand up slowly. What happened last night? Oh. Yes. The train... the cold... I remember one of the last thoughts before I must have fallen asleep -have I lost my mind completely now, sensing them everywhere? - But the night's sleep, even if it wasn't very long, has calmed me down again, and I am now sure that, if I didn't have a very bad dream, the Dementors actually entered the Hogwarts Express last night to look for me.

I breathe deeply, trying to suppress the panic that is threatening to overwhelm me, and concentrate on a more practical question. How did they know that I would be there? Even if they did sense my presence, they must have been very close.

A shudder runs down my spine. Somehow, I don't know how, they must have found out that I was heading for Hogwarts. Of course... they would have been on their way to Hogwarts themselves when they sensed me. This makes matters much more difficult - not that they would have been easy before, what with all the Professors swarming about - especially Dumbledore...

Another thought strikes me all of a sudden. Remus is there, too. He must be there because of me, they were looking for someone who knew me... the Whomping Willow, the one-eyed witch... indeed, matters are much more difficult like this...

But at once, the thought of the Whomping Willow evokes the thought of a small, grey rat, scuttling forward quickly to press the knot at the bottom of the tree. No, there can be nothing to keep me from getting at him. Involuntarily, my hands clench into fists as if clutched tightly around his throat, and that new strength rushes through me again, the one that isn't really strength but rather pure hatred, pure rage, that gives me enough power to go on. I turn trying to find out where I am, grimacing at the roaring of my stomach.

A few moments later, Padfoot is running through the forest, into the direction of Hogsmeade.

**

The Forest is quiet tonight. I know that it is, to a great part, only an illusion -I've been in its depths often enough and have seen far more things than I would have liked- but it seems almost peaceful. I am lying on soft grass, looking up at the dark silhouettes of the trees, their tops far, far away, moving slowly in the breeze. I know it's dangerous to be here in human form, as so many animals can smell me (I know a lot more than I would have liked to know about human smell too, now), but I cannot resist the temptation. To feel the grass under my fingers, to feel my muscles relax, not constantly strained, to smell only the air and the grass and not jump at every sound...

The night is still quite warm, but I can feel that winter is coming. I do not want to think of the nights just now. I have forced myself to stay in the Forest for a while, not only to gain enough strength again, but also to wait for everyone to relax. The Dementors undoubtedly told the Headmaster about my presence near the train, and so they will have been on their guards. My hope is, however, that Dumbledore would never let them into the castle. I suppose he would position them at the entrance.

How logical my thoughts have become, I suddenly think and allow myself a fleeting smile. While someone else was the logic monster back then...

If the Dementors really are restricted to the entrances, that will give me a relatively good chance of moving across the grounds. no one will have guessed that I am already right in the middle, waiting in the Forbidden Forest.

Nothing had changed, I remarked upon my arrival in Hogsmeade. None of the inhabitants had ever even attempted entering the Shrieking Shack, they had probably kept as far away from it as possible. A few students had obviously tried tampering with the doors, but had never managed to lift the spells locking it additionally.

Of course we hadn't either, as animals, which had forced us to find a way out when we went for our 'nighttime strolls', as we called them. Shortly after we had joined Remus in the Shrieking Shack, we would escape through a back door that no one except the four of us could pass, due to a rather advanced spell I myself was proud to have cast on it. Fortunately, it was still there now, completely intact, never used. Of course not, who could have? Except for-

What if Remus tells Dumbledore everything? He knows about all the secret entrances, of course. For a very short moment, I consider the possibility that he might believe in my innocence.

Right. Go on dreaming. It's more likely that he will roam the castle looking for you single-handedly. I will have to pay a lot of attention when I use the secret passages, if I use them...

Emerging from the passage that led from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow faced me with a small difficulty. No rat to prod the knot this time. I had to endure quite a few whips before I managed to reach it, but I hardly felt them...

A few weeks must have passed since I reached the Forest. I stayed deep in its shadows at first, looking for berries and small animals. I have overcome all disgust, as it seems, I almost swallow them whole at times. Sometimes I just fall unconscious during the day because of weakness, then go hunting even more vigorously for food after I awake...

I have walked down to the very edge of the Forest now -as Padfoot, naturally- and gaze across the vast grounds, covered by a very thin layer of fog. I need a plan. I cannot just come pounding in there and demand the rat, unfortunately... I will have to use the entry through Honeydukes, maybe... but Remus-

Something hisses very loudly to my left. I jump around to see a large ginger cat a few meters away from me, staring, its tail swinging furiously, its hair standing up. Wonderful, this is what I needed - another fight with an animal. I back away into the Forest, my eyes never leaving the cat's, which is eyeing me suspiciously.

I wonder whether I would be able to talk to it. I have communicated with animals before, I never knew how, it was just instinct, and I couldn't even say they actually spoke... they made a sound and I suddenly understood it... usually, however, it was nothing more than 'enemy' or the like...

But something about this cat is weird. I stop in my tracks. It must be its eyes... it is still just staring at me like that, without moving, and I can almost see something like amusement flickering in its large, green eyes. I am just wondering whether it will turn into a human when it hisses more loudly, and I can suddenly understand the word.

"Human", the cat hisses and stares at me without blinking.

**