Wolf By Ears

WOLF BY EARS

Part Five: Mind vs. Body

By D.M.P.

***

Life... is simply not a series of exciting new ventures.... There tends to be unfinished business. One trails all sorts of things around with one, things that simply won't be got rid of.

- Anita Brookner, Lewis Percy.

***

Chapter 18

The date was Wednesday, February 24th.

Sirius paced the floor of the cave. It was a new one, higher up in the mountains, a crammed wedge between two slabs of rock.

The inside was chilly and damp, with very poor ventilation and a drooping ceiling overrun with stalactites. Sirius could only stay inside while he was in his dog form.

He missed his old hideout, but he didn't dare return. There could be a Recording Spell place on there, or a Tracking Charm, or Hit Wizards lying in wait. Sirius had better sense than to walk right into a trap.

But today was February 24th, and he had more important things to think about.

Should he go? Sirius glanced back at the day-old Evening Prophet, with the words, "Champions Prepare for Second Task" emblazoned on the front.

If he had had any foresight, Sirius would have inquired about the Second Task to Harry. But after Zaria's last stop, Sirius had convinced himself that the entire Ministry was only a few chances away from getting his head on a stick, and he had no intention of that happening. He had wandered the mountains for weeks after, scouring through the more rugged slopes, cutting through hidden valleys, crawling just within the safety of the treeline. Only a few days ago had he had time to jot down a terse message to Harry:

Send date of Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.

Now Sirius was stuck in a quandary: whether to go down to Hogwarts and see the Second Task or stay up here where it was safe. The last time he had tried helping out his godson, Sirius had been re-captured by the Ministry. Hell, he wasn't going to risk another incident, especially now when there was someone who knew of his Animagus identity.

Other than possibly Zaria, there was only one other at Hogwarts who knew his canine self: Albus Dumbledore. During that chance meeting over the summer, Lupin had told Sirius how he confessed everything to Dumbledore after the June full moon and initiated further contact with the headmaster. Thus, whenever Sirius sent a letter to Harry, he always remembered to send another one to Dumbledore. It was the headmaster, after all, who had first suggested that he hide out in the mountains, when he wrote that first letter to Sirius. However, ever since the December full moon, checking up with Dumbledore had slipped his mind. He had only sent out that single line to Harry, and even that was weeks ago. Chances of the headmaster contacting him were slim; Sirius knew that fulfilling his paranoiac wanderlust would have given any owl a nearly impossible time to tracking him down.

Should he track Dumbledore down at Hogwarts? Sirius knew he was a judge at the Tournament, so he wouldn't be too difficult to locate. But still, if the Ministry was involved....

Buckbeak, the ungrateful birdbrain, didn't believe in Zaria's ill intentions. He wanted to stay behind and get fat on squirrels. The hippogriff firmly held that Zaria posed no threat whatsoever. Granted, the animal still thought that she had a "thing" for Sirius.

Sirius slunk out of the crevice and reverted back to his human shape, slouching against the mountainside. "The tournament's today," he announced to Buckbeak. "We have to form some sort of plan of action."

The hippogriff ignored him, preoccupied with his meal. He distastefully poked at their daily food rummage, a meagre pile of dried vegetation.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Buck!"

Giving a dismissive grunt at the woodland selection, Buckbeak faced his companion. "Craw," he deadpanned.

Sirius had been waiting for him to say that. Yes, he knew how terrible the food was. "I'm talking here. Aren't you listening?"

The hippogriff only snorted and crunched on a dried pinecone. Pinecones could be found in plenty where they were, but little else.

"Unfortunately, I don't see any other choice than going down to Hogwarts myself. Asking you to go in my place-"

Crunch. Another pinecone met its doom.

"-is completely out of the question." Sirius glared at his companion. "Hey?" He snapped his fingers in the beast's face. "A little attention here?"

Buckbeak turned his head away. A few grainy bits tumbled out the side of his beak. After hacking for a few moments, he turned both fiercely orange eyes to glare at Sirius.

He gave a frustrated sigh. "C'mon, they aren't that bad!" Sirius picked up a small brown one from the pile. "Better to starve than be caught. Besides, rodents weren't much better." To give any example, Sirius bit into one and nearly broke his front teeth. "Arrgh!"

A growling laugh escaped Buckbeak's throat.

"Aw, quiet."

Buckbeak glanced at him slyly. If he had possessed any eyebrows, Sirius was sure that one would have been raised in an "I told you so" fashion.

Sirius tossed the piece of natural refuse away. "That's it, I'm not even going to try anymore, you stubborn prig."

Buckbeak made a sarcastic noise. Hippogriffs can sound very sarcastic when they wanted to.

"Oh, for crying out loud! You're not taking me seriously." Sirius turned his back on the animal. "Go ahead. Wallow in your own selfish pity and let Harry die. And I assumed you had some sort of respect for him."

The hippogriff balked, taken back. He got up on his paws and talons in defense.

"I only ask for one favor, one tiny service, you know, for the boy's sake... We both owe something to him..."

Buckbeak twittered something to himself (hippogriffs can't mumble; that require lips), still on the fence.

"And I'll try to filch you something on the way down," he added.

That settled it. Buckbeak lightly rammed his beak into Sirius's shoulder in approval. Sirius slapped him in the flank.

"Oh, that's a good boy," he said.

Sirius crept furtively toward Hogwarts. It was awfully hard to be furtive as a black dog in mid-winter, but Sirius managed. Losing weight (not to say that he had gained much after returning to Scotland) enabled him to sneak around more easily.

The Second Task was centred upon the gigantic lake in front of the castle. That was a good thing; an available escape into the Forbidden Forest was simple enough.

The milling crowd packed the lawn so heavily that Sirius could barely see an opening to slip through. A low humming of hundreds of voices filled the air. Up ahead, the stands appeared so compact that it didn't appear as if many individuals were sitting there, but as if one enormous, multi-coloured block had plunked itself down in front of the lake. Five or so vendors were on the lawn as well, selling roasted turkey legs and mugs of hot butterbeer. Sirius started to pant, and not because he had been running. The smoky, spicy scent was so strong he could almost taste the hot poultry.

Overhead, a cold, distant sun shone down through a haze of clouds upon the small row of tents set up behind the stands. Sirius could spot the bright yellow medical tent and another tent separate from that where the Four Champions must be. An excited rush went through him. He still had a chance to speak to Harry.

Sirius checked around him - no sign of anyone. Yet who knew - this place could be swarming with Unspeakables. Maybe if he were really lucky, he would meet up with that cocky bastard Croaker again. What joy! Sirius took cautious steps toward the stands, sniffing the grass like an innocent stray. Every few seconds, however, his pale eyes swept the Tournament grounds. Sirius then sprinted to the back of the bleachers and made his way underneath.

Among the support beams, Sirius checked the distance between his spot and the Champions' tent. Anyone there? Anyone? Sirius poked his head out. A small family. A few Hogwarts students. Madame Hooch ambled by, humming to herself. No one of importance.

Taking his chance, Sirius moved out of hiding to the tent. So far, so good, so far, so good, so far, so good...

He came to the yellow canvas. He ducked his head lower and tugged his nose underneath. Squirming, Sirius managed to stick his head under the tent cover.

A pair of rubber fins was the first thing he encountered along with a heavy set of bare legs.

Whoa! Sirius pulled back and moved over. Now with his vision unblocked, he saw that the legs belonged to a boy dressed only in a pair of blue swimming trunks with red stripes, pulling on the flippers. On the other side of the tent, a tall blonde had her back turned and was delicately adjusting the folds of her robes. In the centre another boy paced nervously.

So these were the Champions. Sirius recalled what he could from the newspapers and put names to the faces: the swimmer was Viktor Krum, the blondie was Fleur Delacour, and the other must be that Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory. But where was Harry?

Suddenly, the tent flap burst open and an agitated young man stomped in. By the look of his robes, Sirius could tell he worked at the Ministry. Sirius retreated further, walking sideways until he could hide his head behind the drop cloth placed over a table set up inside the tent. Hey, not the most sneaky elusive of hiding places, but everyone was too preoccupied to notice him.

"He's not here yet?" the newcomer exclaimed, looking around.

The tent's occupants looked up. Krum snapped a pair of green goggles over his face. "Not yet," he said.

"But the Task's supposed to start in ten minutes!" The young official gave a frustrated sound and said, "Mr. Bagman wants me to lead the Champions up front." Checking his watch, he added, "Someone has to run down to the dormitories first and-"

"Let us go out," Fleur protested, pulling her silvery locks into a ponytail. "I am sure 'Arry will come on time."

"You don't know," the official snapped. Irritated, he pushed up his owl-horned glasses. "He could have overslept."

Cedric stopped his pacing. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Someone should go back and find him."

"Do we haff the time?" Krum questioned seriously. "The crowd is vaiting. In my experience, it is very bad to haff a crowd vait."

Before anyone could reply, the tent flap opened for a tubby man wearing aqua-green robes with various sea animals stitched all over them. "Good morning, my Champions! Ready for a swim?" he exclaimed readily, then paused. "Where's Harry?"

"That's exactly our problem," the young man said irritably, crossing his arms. "He hasn't shown up yet and we have only six-" another time check "-now five minutes left!"

"Hey, take a breather there, Percy," the man said grandly, slapping him on the back. "I'm sure Harry's just wrestling with some last-minute nerves."

"I'm sure that Harry could have dealt with those nerves while waiting in his tent like he's suppose to," Percy muttered.

The sound of the crowd reached their ears. The man glanced over his shoulder. "I think it's time for us to head on out."

Cedric looked worried. "But Mr. Bagman-" he protested.

"We can't wait up for him; it's the rules," Bagman replied. "If he can't make it on time, then he'll have some points deducted from his total." The other Champions exchanged uncomfortable looks. It seemed like none of them wanted to come out ahead because another had lost points on a technicality.

Sirius became wary himself. He should be the one to go to retrieve Harry. He backed out of the tent and turned around.

"Now what do we have here?"

Oh shit!

A wooden peg poked his side. Sirius jumped and swerved out of the way. Taking a leap back, he looked up to the scarred visage of Mad-Eye Moody.

The retired Auror eyed Sirius suspiciously. Sirius ducked his head. Damn it, act like a dog! He did his own study of Moody, sniffing around his single leg. A quick glance and he noticed that flask hanging on his belt. The same flask that Lupin swore had been filled with Polyjuice Potion-

"What are you doing here, mutt?" Moody whispered. Sirius could feel that magical eye scan over him with mechanical accuracy and shuffled back. He checked himself before a growl could escape.

"Wander over from Hogsmeade?" he said. "Thought you could steal a bite of turkey?"

Sirius found himself moving further backwards. Legends about Moody had spread far and wide, including the one about his mental decline. The wizard could be even more paranoid than him. Did he know? Damn, damn, damn...

Moody took his wand out of its holster and held it up menacingly. "Shoo!" he snapped, flicking it at him. "Shoo!"

By hell, he was going to shoo. Sirius spun on his heels and trotted off nonchalantly. What kind of idiot is he, telling him to shoo...

Still, Sirius couldn't shake that unsettling feeling he got upon seeing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Quite possibly many others got the creepers from seeing Moody, but this feeling was different from that. It was his sixth sense ringing in his mind, the feeling of something intensely dangerous and horrible was crawling on his skin. He shuddered and became even more confused.

Without any notice, a hot sting hit his rear legs. Sirius jumped, startled, and heard Moody laugh behind him.

"Move on, mutt, before you get another one!"

Sirius's temper flared. That old fartbag! What gave him the right-! Sirius was about to turn around when he saw another flash hit the ground beside him.

"Get on!" The laughter grew louder, disturbingly so for an old man chasing off a stray. "Before I come after you myself!"

This time, Sirius heeded the warning. He ran headlong into the Forbidden Forest and didn't stop until he was hidden safely among the trees.

Did he know? Sirius rolled on the snowy ground, if only to shake off that disquieting feeling. No, if he did, then he would have done more than fired a sting at him. It didn't seem as if anyone knew his identity. Well, except for the Unspeakables probably, wherever they were.

A few yards deeper into the forest, he heard a muffled thump, and the cracking of several branches at once. Buckbeak landed in the forest as well and emerged from the behind a trunk.

Sirius changed back and leaned against a fallen tree. "Did you see anything suspicious?" he asked.

Buckbeak shook his head. "Squawk."

"No patrol units?"

"Squawk."

"No guardsmen?"

"Squawk."

"No Zaria?"

"Squawk."

"Then they are all undercover..." Sirius sighed. Should they go back? That had been a close call with Moody, far too close. Moody didn't recognize him, but Zaria could have told the Unspeakables.

Buckbeak made several clucking noises under his tongue, his way of trying to get Sirius's attention. "What?"

The hippogriff gave his reply. Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You do have a point there, ol' boy," he said. "If Zaria had been there, and if she had told security about me, then Mad-Eye Moody should have been warned as well, since he's Dumbledore's security. So either she isn't there and they don't know, or she is there and they do know, or they do know from some other entirely different source I hadn't thought about and she simply isn't there. Or neither of them could be there."

Sirius shook his head. The pronouns were starting to confuse him.

He sighed again. "I'm going back," he declared. "Harry hasn't shown up yet; he could be in trouble."

Buckbeak nodded and spread his wings. "Take care, Buck," Sirius said as the hippogriff launched into the air once more.

Upon his return to the lake, however, Sirius's fears abated. He could see Harry coming in from the other direction as he approached. Showing up late to the Second Task, eh? he thought, filled with relief. He better not get any points nicked off.

Sirius checked all about him, then made his way to his spot under the bleachers. Through the tiny slits of light between the seats, he caught a glimpse of Harry skidding to a halt in front of the judges' table. By that time, the other Champions had assembled themselves as well. Sirius moved down to the tighter space near the first row and knelt down on his stomach. Although intermingled with the sounds from the audience, pieces of the conversation at the golden table still slipped through.

"I'm... here..." Harry panted.

"Where have you been?" Percy's voice could be heard distinctly apart from the surrounding din. "The task's about to start!"

"Now, now, Percy!" Bagman jovially reprimanded. "Let him catch his breath!"

Ludo Bagman rose from his seat and led all four to the edge of the lake. He was doing something - placing them along the edge... Damn it all, he couldn't see anything from back here... Sirius squinted his eyes but to no avail.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle," Bagman's voice boomed out. He must have put a Sonorus spell on his voice. The audience hushed to silence.

"They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them," Bagman continued.

Taken from them? Sirius pondered. He had no idea what this task was about; Bagman's vague reference wasn't helping.

"On the count of three, then," Bagman ended. "One... two... three!"

The shrill sound of a whistle filled the air. The audience burst forth with wild shouts and applause. The Task had begun.

Sirius could make out Krum's pale backside lowering down towards the water. Fleur's silvery hair sparkled even in the drab sunlight; she was going in as well, followed by Cedric. But what about Harry? A robe stuck out from the bleacher opening and smothered Sirius's face. Bugger! He couldn't make out a thing now!

Sirius shuffled around and strained his ears. Sounds of laughter leaked through to him. What were they laughing about? A particularly loud catcall rang through the air. "Potter stinks!"

What did that prat mean, "Potter stinks?" Sirius growled under his breath. Harry, what are you doing out there?

Soon, the jeering died down, and the audience settled to a contented hum. An occasional comment passed above him and a vendor shouted, "Hot butterbeer, only ten Knuts!" Unfortunately, everything else was a murmur.

Now what was he going to do? Was Harry in the water now? In his robes?

Sirius crawled along until the stands rose higher above him and stood up. With even more care, he snuck along the side of the bleachers and settled down unnoticeably against one end.

Ahead, the grey lake surface stretched out before him.

What are we standing here for? he wondered, when the audience gasped. Sirius eagerly raised his head. What did they see? What's going on?

"Ooohh!" exclaimed the crowd.

What? Sirius strained his neck across the water, but saw nothing.

"Both Cedric and Fleur have completed their Bubble-Head Charms," Bagman narrated, his voice on Sonorus. "Krum is still struggling in the shallows. He appears to be trying to transfigure himself."

The crowd cried out again. "Look at that!" Sirius heard from the stands.

This time, Sirius was quick enough to catch it. At one part of the lake, the water frothed and bubbled. Had something just come out of the water? He watched the lake with the audience for several more minutes, waiting expectantly.

"There we have it, folks, it seems like Krum's going to work with what he has - such a shame he can't complete the transformation."

Another spot bubbled up on the left side of the lake. Several clapped; many shouted in amazement.

It was then Sirius realized that the wizards were watching the Second Task by staring at a rippling lake. Wow, he thought. Now that's entertainment.

Fortunately, he was proven wrong. By observing the lake closely, he noted that there was a film floating over the top like cream on milk. The audience must be watching something move on top of the water. Sirius glanced up at the towering stands. He would have to find a way to climb up them if he wanted to see anything. The bleachers were far too packed for even a dog to muscle his way through them.

A little dejected, Sirius turned around, ready to go back. He had never expected to watch the Second Task anyway. In fact, he shouldn't even be here; every moment he stayed increased his chances of someone finding him out. Still, Sirius glanced over his shoulder. Threats to personal safety seemed to dwarf a bit compared to seeing Harry completing the Second Task, whatever it was.

Then he found her. Zaria sat by the golden table with the judges, who were taking fierce notes and whispering to themselves.

Sirius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. All regrets about missing the Task slipped his mind. Now he was in a perfectly good position to leave.

He turned around to go behind the stands, but halted. Moody was there again.

Bugger- Sirius backtracked and pressed himself beside the stands. He couldn't cut through there or else the DADA professor would catch him. Yet going in front was not an option either. Sirius was at a stalemate... until he spotted the Labrador heading his way. At last Sirius knew where to go: the other direction.

Zaria caught up with him before he could make a move. Oh damn, what was he going to do? Well, there were only two options: run like the dickens or beat it out. Sirius, of course, chose the latter.

He jumped on her. The two rolled on the ground; Sirius snapped his jaws in her face; she recoiled and darted out from beneath him; he turned around to bite her tail; she whirled quickly, hitting him in the face with her tail; while still dazed, she reached for his neck. He countered her attack with his jaws and the two became locked together, tussling on the ground-

Ha ha ha! Sirius thought with a feeling of derring-do. Take that! No government agent can stop me! I am Sirius Black! I rise above the law!

Bam!

The law just gave Sirius a ferocious blow that sent him sprawling. He didn't know whether she had smashed her body against his or if her back had grown a spring-back hammer, but either way, the action made Sirius rediscover how hard the ground was in February.

The tussle lengthened. The world spun as they rolled together, snapping and shoving. Weariness overcame him, but he knew that he had to go on. One sign of slack and she could over take him.

It had been a long time since he had got into a scrape like this. Years before, he and Lupin had done this all the time at Hogwarts, and Sirius recalled how fun it had been. But, no, this wasn't fun now, because he was fighting for his life, right? No he wasn't enjoying himself - ouch - a damn bit - oof!

By then, the fighting was going to ridiculous lengths. Every time Sirius wretched her off, Zaria found a way to latch herself on again. On the other hand, he was doing the same thing. The testosterone-fuelled fighting instinct was on and Sirius was drawn in hook, line and sinker.

Zaria's teeth sank into his fur; he jumped to shake her off. Sirius growled, turned his head and snapped at her leg. She let go immediately and threw herself against him. They flopped on the lawn some more. She grabbed his neck and slammed his head down into the ground. He got dirt in his eye - okay, not fun. Not fun at all.

Sirius head-butted her in the side and the two crashed into each other again. Hell yes! He said to himself. I kick tail!

Zaria bounded up on her paws again and ran. Did she escape? Did he win? Thump!

A blow struck his ribcage. Unexpectedly, Sirius found himself shoved against the ground. He had been tipped over and pushed onto his back. Zaria stood over him, paws down on his belly. She blinked triumphantly.

She had pinned him! She had pinned him! He couldn't believe it! Sirius was at least twice her weight and far stronger. Sirius growled and pushed. Well, let's see if she can do it a second time! With a mighty shove, he knocked her off and-

Flip! Thump!

Okay, so she had... a little quicker than Sirius had expected. He squirmed fitfully beneath her. He hated being on the bottom.

She rolled her eyes (Sirius hadn't believed that Labradors could do that until that moment) as if confronting an idiot. Then, as if tired of such foolishness, she got up and left. Sirius raised a head. Leaving? She was leaving? She - she couldn't leave! She was supposed to be after him!

Sirius rolled back onto his feet and followed her, puzzled. He cut her off.

Fight me! He barked.

She cocked her head, amused.

C'mon, he urged. Fight me!

She moved past him. A tiny shadow swept the ground and he raised his head. Buckbeak was turning circles a few hundred miles up in the air. And Sirius knew, even from such distance, that the hippogriff was chuckling.

It's not like that! He wanted to shout. She attacked me...

Sirius shook his head quickly. Grudgingly enough, he could admit it: Zaria wasn't a Ministry officer bent on taking him down...

And he had enjoyed having a scrap with her.

But only a little.

He limped to the judges' table, unafraid of the consequences now. Zaria resumed her place at the judges' table beside Dumbledore's seat. Sirius remained standing and milling around, sniffing the grass like a dumb stray should. Zaria gave him a look that said, And why are you doing that?

Offended, Sirius plunked down next to her. Dumbledore was busy writing shorthand on a long scroll and looking over the water. Out of a corner of those half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore got a peek at Sirius, and he swore the old headmaster winked at him. Or was it at Zaria?

Sirius took a moment to have a look at the other judges. He was familiar with all of them but had only read about the foreign headmasters. Next to Dumbledore sat Madame Maxime, a lady of considerable... magnitude. Beside her was Percy, trying to appear very professional but coming off as very inexperienced and quite haughty. Closest to Bagman was Karkaroff, who narrowed his eyes as he made quick little dashes on his scroll. Sirius, in turn, felt the initial suspicion he had fostered for the Durmstrang headmaster, ever since he had learned that he was involved in the tournament. The things he had looked up about him were not very glamorous; indeed, the way Karkaroff ratted on his Death Eater buddies still rubbed Sirius the wrong way. Still, there would be no reason for Karkaroff to plot against Harry... unless he knew something that no one else did...

"Mr. Potter is finally in the water now.... Oh my, now this is something we didn't expect!"

Bagman's comment snapped Sirius back into the moment. From this spot, Sirius had a better view of the lake surface and got a spectator's view. Over the water was a translucent image of several viewpoints underwater. The lake surface was divided into four sections, one for each champion. The upper-right hand corner followed Krum, who had partly transfigured himself into a shark (not the most endearing sight). The bottom two in the right and left corners focused on Fleur and Cedric respectively, each with a giant bubble over his or her head. And Harry, in the far left...

Ye gods! Harry had grown gills! And fins, and flippers, all an odd shade of green. What kind of spell had he used? Sirius picked his brain. Must be gillyweed, he reasoned admirably. Wonder how he got hold of that. Never mind that, Harry was manoeuvring more capably than any of those other so-called Champions.

Sirius noticed that each of the champions overlapped each other's viewing spell. He could see Krum's fin in Cedric's square, and Cedric's leg in Fleur's...

Like with the Task before, Bagman started his commentary. "Mr. Krum, Mr. Diggory and Miss Delacour seem to have a truce going on here," he observed. "As Mr. Potter still wallows in the shallows, they're moving in and moving fast."

Hey, hey, what's going on? Sirius growled to himself. A conspiracy, is there? Those other three banding together while Harry's off by himself... Get your act together, Harry! Sirius mentally shouted. Hurry up!

As the trio of Champions headed further down, the water grew darker and more ominous. Sirius figured that they must feel safer traveling in a group. But wasn't this supposed to be a race, here? They would all have to ditch each other eventually, or sabotage another's progress. Sirius sniffed. Did he smell some back-stabbing coming on?

They were passing by a low crevice on the lakebed when a long tentacle shot out towards them. It grabbed Cedric by the arm and pulled him toward the dark opening. Krum and Fleur darted away, but not before more tentacles shot out, reaching for their limbs. From within the crevice, an immense, triangular head came forth...

"Look what we have here!" Bagman said grandly. "It seems they have encountered a little problem."

If that was a little problem, then Voldemort was a pink, fluffy bunny. The lake's infamous occupant, the giant squid, crept out of its hiding place and attacked. In defense, the three reached for their wands, shouting; yet from the lakeside, no sound could be heard. Cedric tried avoiding the tentacles, but already, one had grabbed hold of his legs; he was being pulled closer... Fleur struggled, but in vain. More arms clung onto her... Krum tried doing a U-turn, but another tentacle wrapped around his waist. The squid was pulling them in toward the center, toward its gaping maw, lined with pointed teeth...

Sirius couldn't help but watch Harry plodding steadily through the water far away from the fight scene as the others suffered the squid's wrath. He beamed inwardly. Yup, that's my godson!

Meanwhile, Bagman was frantically noting every movement on the squid front.

"Mr. Krum's using his teeth now - oh, what a bite! That's got to hurt! The squid recoils; it's letting him go... and off he swims! But Miss Delacour's in for some trouble; the squid's got her tied down - both arms pinned! Hold on there for a moment... she's casting a spell... Wow, is that a Heat Spell? Underwater?"

Fleur couldn't move anything past her elbows, but her wand arm was pressed firmly against the squid's flesh. Bagman was right to wonder; the wand's tip turned a burnished gold, then its luminescence started building up.... The light grew bright and brighter and spread out into a huge orb of flaming green and blue...

"No, it's looks like a Greek Fireball!" Bagman corrected himself. "The intensity! Shield your eyes, folks!"

Fleur shut her eyes tight and clenched her teeth. The Greek Fireball grew as large as a Quaffle; alarmed, the squid was juggling its tentacles, trying to loosen its grip on her. Then, she let it go...

The squid writhed in agony as the fireball slammed into the center of its head. The monster tumbled back, releasing both Fleur and Cedric. Cedric did a series of rollovers in the water; Fleur was pushed in the opposite direction-

Bagman grimaced in sympathy for the giant squid as it crawled back into its hiding place. "Ooohhh! Looks like the French sure know how to fight!"

Sirius was only listening to this with half an ear. By then, Harry had made it to the merpeople village. Sirius saw the gigantic merman statue tower over the boy, with the swarms of mermen around it. They weren't attacking, however; they seemed to be monitoring the event as well. Sirius wondered if some had kept an eye out for the poor squid.

"Mr. Potter is ahead now," Bagman continued, "and is at an attempting to free his hostage..."

Harry was tugging at one of the mermen's spears. The merman jerked back, its mouth gaping. There was no audio with the viewing spells so Sirius could only guess at what was going on. He caught a glance at the statue and saw the hostages tied around it. Two he recognized as Harry's friends: Ron and Hermione. The other pair was unfamiliar: a young girl with silver blonde hair - her resemblance to Fleur wasn't missed -, another young Asian girl - must be Cedric's girlfriend. Who's Harry going for? Sirius mused.

Then Harry took a stone from the floor and began hacking at the ropes. Soon, he freed Ron. Harry turned to reach for Hermione, but several merman pushed him away. Some had their scaly heads thrown back in what appeared to be laughter.

Sirius heard an indignant noise next to him. He glanced at Zaria, who stood posed as if standing in as the poster pooch for Our Dog. Was she insulting Harry? He bared his teeth and she tipped her head toward a Slytherin-occupied section of the bleachers, who were joining the mermen in their glee. Oh, the comment was directed at them. Sirius dropped his defensive look and felt an embarrassed warmth rise up in his face.

"Now his hostage is free, yet... Mr. Potter refuses to leave!" The former Quidditch player began to muse aloud. "He has less than fifteen minutes to reach the surface... Could it be that Mr. Potter isn't aware of the time?"

Some whispered comments among the judges turned Sirius's ear to them.

" 'Arry seems to be terribly aggressive wiz ze mermen down zair," Madame Maxime said in a hushed tone. "Would it 'ave been best if ze Champions knew zey were monitoring ze event?"

Bagman made a quick wave at his throat and said in a normal whisper, "Potter's probably worried about the others." He gestured to a large hourglass on the table, which was keeping the time. The sand was over three-fourths gone. "But he knows that there's a time limit."

"That's my brother down there," Percy muttered. "He'd better know."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was holding out for someone else," Karkaroff sneered. Sirius glared and felt the need to bite off the man's kneecap. Zaria gave him a swift whap with her tail, cutting the thought short.

"I'm sure whatever Harry chooses, it is for the best," Dumbledore said. "We are judges, but we should not judge until all the facts are known."

Bagman gave a nod in agreement and cast the Sonorus spell again.

"Now let's see where the others are... Cedric is moving ahead, with Krum trailing fifty meters back... but what has become of Miss Delacour?"

Over in her corner, the viewing spell revealed a mass of weeds. Fleur gingerly picked herself through them, tossing away the offensive plants each time they brushed against her. However, a pair of slitted eyes poked out from a clump behind her.

"Oh, Miss Delacour better watch where she's going!"

Unfortunately, she did not. The grindylow jumped on her trailing robes and yanked, hard. Fleur let out a gasp of surprise just as another grindylow sprang from the depths. It latched onto her sleeve, pulling down.

Sirius didn't know whether grindylows were common where she was from, but from what he could guess, Fleur didn't have much experience with them. Their repulsiveness took her back; she flailed her limbs, trying to shake them off. Yet the more she struggled, the more they clung on. One jumped upon the bubble around her head and dug its claws in-

Pop!

The audience gasped.

Bagman rose from his chair, narrating with bent knees. "Miss Delacour's in for some trouble now! She can't breathe! She's at the mercy of the entire colony! Dear Merlin, someone help-!"

Madame Maxime, too, jumped from her chair with such force that it toppled over. "MADEMOISELLE!!"

Fleur swished her wand helplessly in the water; she couldn't speak; she couldn't move. The grindylows were out by the dozen now, jumping and grabbing any part they could. One had its webbed claws clamped over Fleur's mouth; a spray of bubbles issued forth as she tried to scream. A few moments later and no sign of the Beauxbatons student could be recognized, replaced by a mass of writhing bodies sinking into the weeds.

Sirius' heart quickened with sympathy and worry as he witnessed mutely, now standing on all four paws. Behind him, spectators filled the air with exclamations. Madame Maxime made as if to rush to the lake's edge and throw herself in, but Dumbledore grasped her arm and said shouted something incomprehensible toward the lake. It sounded like water erupting from a geyser; Sirius realized it was Mermish.

At his call, several scaly heads popped up to the surface. Dumbledore make several gurgling sounds in the back of his throat. Three of the mermen nodded and disappeared into the lake, tridents in hand.

"There we have it! The reinforcements have arrived!" Bagman's voice burst out in relief.

The mermen swam onto the scene. Tackling the swarm before them, they stabbed randomly, shoving off grindylows. Soon, the faded light blue of Fleur's robes and her silvery head came into view. The water became filled with floating bodies of dead or injured grindylows. At the sight of their fallen comrades, the others still attacking kicked off and disappeared into the weeds. Fleur floated limply with the current, very pale and unconscious.

Madame Maxime stuffed her fist in her mouth, wide-eyed as she watched the merman carry Fleur back up to the surface. Bagman's voice sounded uncertain as he said, "Miss Delacour is safe now... Looks like medical attention is being called up."

Madame Pomfrey rushed over, bearing blankets and several bottles. "Let me see to her," she said in a no-nonsense voice. "Poor girl - half-drowned! What did I tell them? I said that the grindylow colony was too dangerous! But they never listen! Never!"

The Beauxbatons headmistress was already by Fleur's side, helping to wrap her up in an enormous blanket. Gingerly parting the girl's lips, Madame Pomfrey poured a hot substance from one of the bottles down her throat and gently shook her shoulder. After a few moments, Fleur's eyelids fluttered open and she sat up, coughing water. Around them, the crowd sent up a raging cheer.

"That a girl!" Bagman praised. "A few grindylows won't beat her out!" As Fleur was led away into the medical tent, Bagman continued his commentary. "Mr. Diggory is arriving at the village. He's shouting something to Harry - trying to knock some sense into him I'd wager. There, he cuts the ropes to his hostage and off he goes!"

Cedric kicked up a froth as he and the girl headed up. Sirius glanced at the hourglass worriedly. Time was dwindling down to the last grain. Why didn't Harry hurry up?

"Mr. Krum trails behind. What's this? Harry hands him a stone to cut the ropes with. What a nice favor; too bad he can't show some more concern to his own affairs!" Bagman frowned and looked to the hourglass. "Only one minute left..."

As the seconds passed, Sirius's impatience grew into frustration. What was the matter with the boy? He was running out of time!

It was now coming down to the wire. A few members in the audience started giving a countdown that spread until the entire stand was shouting.

"...thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight..."

Cedric swam frantically upwards, holding his hostage tightly by the waist...

"...twenty-seven... twenty-six..."

Krum flapped his finned arms through the water; Hermione's hair got in his face and he hastily pushed it aside, speeding up...

"... twenty-five... twenty-four... twenty-three..."

"Will they make it in time?" the announcer cried out with needless melodrama. "And Mr. Potter's still down there! What the-? What is he doing? Mr. Potter has his wand out; he's confronting other mermen!"

Upon the water, the translucent image of Harry rippled as he flourished his wand at the underwater villagers. Fleur's sister remained slouched against the statue as Ron drifted aimlessly... Harry was yelling at the merman, threatening them! Oh, this isn't good... Sirius thought.

"...fifteen... fourteen... thirteen..."

"What is going on down there?" Bagman's voice rose up excitedly. "Mr. Potter drives the monitors away from the scene! What a breaking of Tournament rules! He's taking Miss Gabrielle Delacour and Mr. Ron Weasley!"

Harry, who cares about the other hostage! Sirius mentally cursed, despairing. He wasn't going to make it!

Harry was finally moving toward the surface. But now, Cedric was almost at the top, and Krum wasn't too far behind...

"The clock is ticking!" Bagman said, giddily. Despite the fact there was no clock, the audience gave a roar in agreement. The counting was louder now, blasting through Sirius's eardrums.

"... twelve... eleven..."

"Gabrielle!!" Fleur came bursting out of the medical tent, prompted by the uproar. Now revived, she was in a state of pure panic. "Gabrielle!!" she screamed, heading for the water. Madame Pomfrey ran after her, shouting, "Get back here young lady!"

"Non! Mademoiselle!" Madame Maxime, who had returned to the judges' table, left it again and took Fleur by both arms. In a fit of disobedience, the student fought her headmistress, squirming and shouting in French.

"...ten... nine... eight..."

The former Quidditch player now joined in with the crowd, slamming a fist down with every descending number.

"...seven... six... five..."

Feet stomped in rhythm; hands clapped too. Sirius's tail thumped in time, but his heart headed in the same direction as the grindylows. Harry was going to lose...

As the final seconds came, the crowd yelled at the top of its lungs.

"...FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE-!"

"And the hour is up!" Bagman exclaimed, as the last grain tumbled over. "None of the Champions have completed the Task!"

The noise was deafening as the audience expressed its disappointment. Something close to a death kneel came from Fleur's throat and she became even more incensed. "Laissez-moi partir!"

Just then, Cedric's head broke through the water. His bubble popped, and he shouted, gasping for air. "I'm here!" he said. "I'm here!" The crowd erupted into a wild frenzy.

Exhaustedly, Cedric kicked toward the beach, hugging his girlfriend. As wizards and witches danced in the bleachers, Madame Pomfrey retreated back to the tent, only to come out with more blankets and bottles. Soon, Krum's shark visage emerged as well, and the crowd doubled its joy.

The two Champions and their hostages assembled on shore as Madame Pomfrey fussed over them, passing out bottles. "Pneumonia!" she said. "You're all going to come down with pneumonia!"

Both Hermione and the other girl stirred awake, rubbing their eyes and stretching.

"Herm-own-ninny," Krum welcomed gruffly. "How are you?"

"Ahhh!" Hermione said, giving a start. "Viktor, your face!"

He was still standing on the beach as a shark-man. "Oh. I apologise." Embarrassed, Krum fumbled with his wand and his distorted features reverted back into their human form.

The other girl wrapped her arms around her rescuer. "Cedric!" she murmured, burying her head into his wet shoulder.

"Cho." Cedric clung to her warmly.

"None of that now!" Madame Pomfrey pushed them apart. "Blankets, both of you!"

Despite the happiness radiating from both the stands and the Task participants, the judges' table remained quite sober. Ludo Bagman was quick to explain. "Harry Potter still hasn't risen," he said. "And the spell cast upon the hostages only lasts little more than an hour! If he can't get them up in time..."

The audience swiftly adopted the same attitude upon these words. On the water, Harry's image was still striving upwards. Mermen referees were hesitantly trailing him. Harry staggered under the weight of his two companions. Sounds of concern came up from the crowd. The small group on the shore focused on the water as well, all tight-lipped and shivering. Only Fleur hadn't calmed down; with the silence, her shouts became louder.

"Je dois la sauver!" she begged Madame Maxime. "Ma soeur!"

He has to make it, Sirius thought urgently. His paws itched to head to the beachside, but Zaria moved in front of him, blocking his way. He stuck his head over her back and watched helplessly. C'mon Harry! C'mon!

According to the reflection upon the lake, Harry was kicking his way to the top; he was straining against the weight of his friends; one look back at the mermen behind him and he got the wrong impression, moving at an even more frantic pace; he didn't know that they were there to help, not hurt... Sirius had his heart in his throat. C'mon, Harry, c'mon...

The world held its breath.

Splash!

"He made it!" Bagman yelled.

Merman heads bobbed up around him as they burst out into song. The other mermen echoed on shore joined in, filling the air with their screechy voices. All the judges walked on shore to meet them; the bleachers exploded into celebration; all the noise and emotion were making Sirius light-headed...

Zaria was poking his side with her muzzle. Sirius shot her an irritated look. What now?

Zaria moved out toward the castle. If she wanted to leave then fine with her, but Sirius wasn't going to move! He wanted to congratulate Harry himself!

Dumbledore came back to the table as if wanting to fetch his scroll. Casually, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Zaria, would you please escort Mr. Black to my office?"

He turned to Zaria, who now had her tail in his face. Why of course... By Circe's wand, how stupid had he been!

Sirius gave in and followed Zaria toward Hogwarts. He gave one lingering glance behind him. Dumbledore had returned to the beach and he and Bagman were helping Harry out of the water; Percy dragged a protesting Ron to the beach ("Get off, Percy, I'm all right!"); Fleur embraced Gabrielle and sobbed into her sister's dripping hair, saying:

"It was ze grindylows... zey attacked me... oh Gabrielle, I thought... I thought..."

He hesitated for a few moments, hoping that Harry would catch a glimpse of him, but Zaria prodded him on.

The two made their way into the castle and arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's office: a large stone gargoyle blocked the way. Sirius started at it wonderingly. What was the password for this? Well, neither one of them knew it, much less had the vocal ability to say it...

"Fftt," said Zaria.

The gargoyle hopped aside.

Sirius blinked, astounded, as Zaria stepped onto the moving stairwell.

They were carried upstairs. At the end, the study door with the brass knocker had been left ajar. Zaria nudged her nose and pushed it open. Sirius looked around the circular office. It had been years since he had entered it, yet nothing seemed to have changed. Above his head, the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses lined the wall. A few of them observed him curiously. Self-consciously, Sirius settled down by the glowing fireplace. Zaria was busy dragging a heavy tome off the bottom of a nearby shelf. It thumped on the floor; she pushed its cover open and gestured for Sirius to come over.

The page before them was blank. Yet as soon as Sirius focused on it, he could see a tiny trail of dots running across the page. Ellipses.

...............

Zaria titled her head. Immediately, tight script typed onto the page.

....Speak, it said.

Intrigued, Sirius looked down. What?

Speak....... repeated the page.

Hello? attempted Sirius. Testing, testing, one, two three...

You're wasting ink, the page said.

Sorry.

Zaria's eyes smiled. Good human, said the page.

I see now... Sirius said. Was this why you kept saying "ftt" to me? That was the password to Dumbledore's Office?

That and "Cockroach Clusters, replied the page. But the Master thought "Fttt" would be easier for you to say as a dog. Or to comprehend. I forget which.

Sirius stared her down. He had liked it better when she possessed a one-word vocabulary.

I thought we had an understanding here, the page continued. Didn't Buckbeak tell you?

Buckbeak? Sirius exclaimed. When did you ever talk to Buckbeak?

Well, he was out squirrel-hunting only a few weeks ago when I found him...

Oh, squirrels. Figures.

I believe we had a conversation in which I said I wanted to meet you. He told me about your hunt for information, but when I tried getting some to you, you ran off. I couldn't find you since.

So that what she had meant when she offered him the newspaper. The feeling of stupidity was growing.

You shouldn't trust that hippogriff with anything, Sirius told her. He has a very... bestial mind. Not to offend, but he might have thought you wanted to meet me for another reason.

And what would that be? Zaria glanced at him curiously.

"Ftt" must mean something different in Hippogriffian, Sirius thought pointedly.

Now it was Zaria's turn to blink, stunned. And... And what did you assume? she finally asked.

That you were a highly classified Ministry official going to the lengths of Avalon and back to root me out and feed my soul to Dementors, Sirius said simply. As you can see, my companion and I have drastically different perspectives.

I see...

Before she could comment further, the door to the office opened.

"Hello Sirius, Zaria," Dumbledore greeted as he strode into the room. "I'm am very happy to inform you both of Harry's success at the Tournament. I apologise, Sirius, about the abrupt withdrawal, but I had to be sure I had a chance to speak with you in private."

He reached down for the book and gathered it in his arms. Sirius still directed his thoughts toward it and could spot the printed script forming across the page.

No problem, Professor, Sirius said. If I only knew Zaria had worked with you, things might have not been so difficult. How did you know I was around anyhow?

"Ah, well Zaria did report your strange behaviour to me," Dumbledore explained. "A large black dog picking up old newspapers is something you don't see often. I suspected something, but it was only when she told me about meeting a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest did I prove my hypothesis was proven correct."

The Labrador trotted up to Dumbledore. He scratched her ears fondly. "You could say that she is my Guide Dog of sorts." He gave a small smile to himself, as if taking part in an inside joke. The headmaster then whispered something in her ear and Zaria gave a quick nod to him, a cool glance to Sirius, and exited the room. The door closed behind her.

"We had a correspondence," Dumbledore added quietly, "but it has been awhile since I have last heard from you."

Yeah, it had been awhile... a couple months.... Sirius bowed his head in shame. I was preoccupied, he managed to say. I know that's a real crummy excuse, but...

"I assumed that if we were ever cut off, it would be for a good reason," Dumbledore replied. "I believe Professor Lupin knows you are here then?"

Actually, I was hoping he had contacted you. A strange stifled feeling filled his throat; if he had had to speak aloud, he wouldn't have been able to. I've had no idea where he went since mid-January.

"No idea at all?" His face turned grave again. "He has been through the gauntlet in the past few months."

Dumbledore played with the end of his beard. In the bright daylight, Sirius noticed the growing number of wrinkles on the headmaster's features. His eyes were still bright and twinkling, as always, but there seemed to be a weary cast on his face that pulled it down. Sirius had never realized how old Dumbledore was becoming until that moment. Somehow, the thought frightened him.

"I have read some of it here and there in the papers. It's quite sensational, what our former DADA professor has done..." He pulled out a drawer and took out a few newspaper clippings. "I too keep my own stash," he winked at Sirius. "It's nice to keep track of old alumni."

There on the desk lay all the significant articles about both of them, from "Wizard Werewolf Takes Muggle Girl as Pup" to Sirius's own "Black Evades Ministry Again." Along with those were the articles about the December Islington murders, when the werewolf Jarohnen Ianikit had used Lupin's wand to torture five Ministry officers to death. As far as Sirius knew, the Russian wolf was sentenced to the Sentient Magical Creatures Penitentiary for life.

One of the titles caught his eye. "Muggle Girl Found Shot in Brighton." He sniffed at it. She lived. Ye gods, she lived....

"Perhaps you have a clearer version of events?" Dumbledore inquired.

Sirius drew himself away. Would it be easier if I change back? he asked. Can we risk it?

"Oh yes. I should have asked before if you felt comfortable. My office is secure enough."

In a flick of a unicorn's tail, Sirius was his human self again, sitting in one of the deep-seated leather armchairs by the fireplace. "I... I don't know how to begin, really..." Sirius said. He brushed off his nervousness with a laugh. Suddenly it felt like he was eleven years old again, sitting in Dumbledore's office for sneaking off of Hogwarts grounds to test his brand-new Comet Chaser.

"I suggest the beginning," Dumbledore said kindly. A small candy appeared out from his robe sleeve. "Sherbet lemon?"

Sirius cracked a grin. "Why not?" He accepted the treat and felt immediately more at ease. "I'm pretty sketchy on the details," he admitted. "Remus was never really open about these things. But from what I know, it all started in October, when he went off and got drunk the night of the full moon..."

Then, quite suddenly, it all came spilling out. Sirius had never realized how much he knew until he voiced it all aloud. He told Dumbledore about Mary's making and how she and Lupin had fled to London. Sirius didn't know much about the Werewolf Safehouse, but as soon as he mentioned it, Dumbledore nodded his head knowingly and said, "Madame de Chien-Loup has a very generous reputation. I'm sure they must have done well there."

Then Sirius went on with his capture by the Ministry while trying to contact Harry through the fireplace. The memory of returning to Azkaban made his insides shudder, and Dumbledore didn't comment when he skipped over the details. Instead, Sirius focused on how Lupin had covered for him at the Triwizard Tournament; that information made the old headmaster arch a bushy white eyebrow.

"Croaker never informed me about this," he said slowly.

"Probably the bugger was nursing a bit of wounded pride for letting Lupin escape," Sirius said. "I'm sure Moody would have mentioned it to you."

Dumbledore scratched his beard. "In fact, Sirius, he hasn't. This never reached the papers, either; perhaps that was Croaker's doing." He was silent for a few moments, with a look of deep thought. Sirius wanted to ask whether Croaker had been around at the Second Task, but kept his silence on the subject. He wasn't sure whether to proceed with his story until Dumbledore shook his head and said, "Excuse me for my wandering thoughts. Go on."

Sirius hesitated, wondering whether to tell Dumbledore about Moody's odd behavior. At the First Task, Lupin had noted that Moody was concocting what appeared to be a Polyjuice Potion in his office when Lupin spied on him; Sirius had dismissed it, but now was unsure to hold it back from Dumbledore.

"Professor, Remus told me that Moody carried around this hip flask which smelled like the Polyjuice Potion." He left the statement hanging in mid-air.

Another moment of silence. "And what do you think of this, Mr. Black?"

"I assumed it was a potion for arthritis."

"That's what Moody told me," Dumbledore agreed.

Any remaining suspicion against Moody vanished.

Sirius then charged on, talking about how Lupin and Mary had escaped the Safehouse afterwards with officers from both the MLES and the RMC on their tails. He referred to those articles on the desk about the Islington murders and said, "Well, now you know how Ianikit got a hold of Remus's wand."

"And the Ministry still possesses it," the headmaster noted.

When telling of the incident at the fisherman's hovel, he laughed aloud at the Lupin's punch to his jaw. The man could certainly throw a nasty uppercut. Then, the weeks of relative peace and happiness were abridged as well; it hurt too much to speak of it.

"But he loved her," Sirius said. "Mary was a cute kid... and she rubs off on you after awhile. That article... about her... can I see it?"

"You're more than welcome to." Dumbledore handed over the newspaper. Sirius read every word, absorbing the information into his brain. For all this time he had thought Lupin was a killer.... And he had even told him so... The girl was safe, but Lupin was still missing...

After a bit, Sirius lowered the article and suppressed a sigh, kicking out at the edge of the rug. He missed them both, but Lupin more than anything. If only he had another chance now, if only to take back for his harsh words.... That he feared admitting aloud, so he hurried on. "The girl always made him smile. You would have liked her, Professor, if you had met her."

"I'm sure I would have," replied Dumbledore.

The account about the full moon on the beach, however, was drawn out as heavily as possible, because he knew that was when something in Lupin had snapped.

"And I saw that look in his eye," Sirius said. "When he headed off to get Kevin Grisham. There was murder in his eyes. Absolute murder." He shuddered. "And then I knew if I didn't stop him, the wolf would kill him. And Mary... geez, she was with him all the way. And she was Kevin's daughter! I had twisted dreams for nights after that they succeeded and we were eating the man's entrails right on the beach..." Sirius laughed again, a hollow one filled with guilt.

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, saying nothing. Sirius wiped his brow, although he was not sweating, and went on. "I tried my best to stop him, but it was Croaker who really saved the day, ironically enough." He continued with their rescue by Buckbeak and the morning after.

"Remus was really out of it. It was like he had spent the last day and a half smoking and drinking tequila. Horribly weak and sweating... Vomiting like mad... He kept muttering in his sleep and talking out loud... Don't know what he dreamt, but they must have been some pretty disturbing things. When he woke up, he was all groggy and concerned for Mary, obviously, and worried about escaping. I thought all he needed was a few more hours and then we'd leave Brighton for someplace else. He pushed me out of the room practically, reassuring me that he'd be fine. And... and I thought so too..."

"But when I returned..." Sirius couldn't bring himself to say what he had found. The blood that was everywhere... and her face... so innocent and tranquil, like a porcelain doll's...

"He shot her, Professor," Sirius said bluntly. "He shot her in the fisherman's hovel with his gun. It brought back too many memories..."

Dumbledore sympathized. "That is enough, Sirius," he said gently. A knock came from the door. Sirius jumped, alarmed, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "Only some refreshments. Come in," he said.

The door opened, and a house elf, pushing a giant cart stacked with food and drink, entered. "Dobby do as you say, sir," he chirped. "Two flasks of butterbeer, one roast turkey, one basket of buttered rolls, seven meat pastries, plenty mash potatoes, and black forest cake with milk."

Sirius had his mouth ajar. When he noticed his drool hitting the floor, he hastily closed it and wiped his mouth. The smells coming from that cart were more than he could bear. He was so excited by the prospect of eating that the fact the house elf was wearing rainbow-coloured suspenders over a bright orange and blue striped shirt totally slipped his mind.

"Thank you Dobby," Dumbledore said cheerfully. He reached into his pocket and took out a coin purse decorated with falling stars. Several stars hit the rug with a high, whizzing sound and burnt to specks of ash as Dumbledore removed several sickles from the pouch. "I believe this should cover it all," he said, handing the house elf the money. "Plus a little extra for such quick service."

Sirius was about to rip off a turkey leg for himself when he did a double-check. A house elf getting paid?

The house elf jumped with joy. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore is too kind! Too kind! Dobby does not know what to say!"

"Good work should always be rewarded," Dumbledore said kindly. "Now if you would please..."

"Yes, good professor!" Dobby skipped out of the office and shut the door.

Sirius bit into a leg of turkey with great relish. For the next few minutes, Sirius gorged himself, not even recalling the headmaster's presence until he had finished off a good portion of the meat pies and both drumsticks. He then raised his head with a blush and tried starting up conversation again.

"That house elf's something you don't see everyday," he commented, chewing. He gnawed on the turkey bone, thought about throwing it away, decided to give it to Buckbeak and placed it back on the silver tray.

"Dobby's quite the character," Dumbledore agreed. He returned to the subject at hand, saying, "Now I know you've been preoccupied the last few weeks, but I'm sure you'll find the time to write."

"Anything I find out," Sirius promised, taking a swing of butterbeer. "Or if Harry should say anything..." He paused. "Hold on a moment." From the inside of his tattered robes, he took out Harry's last letter to him, about his encounter with Snape and Mad-Eyed Moody. "This was from awhile ago," he said. "But if you'd like to know...."

"Thank you." Dumbledore put Harry's letter into his desk drawer. "Would you like any more?" he asked graciously, referring to the over-loaded cart.

"Well..." Sirius looked at it thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to waste any of Dobby's hard work," he replied, "And I did promise Buckbeak I'd get something other than pine cones on the way back up..."

"I'll pack up the rest and send it by Owl Post," Dumbldore winked. "All in smaller packages of course."

"Great. If Pigwidgeon leads, they'll get to me sooner or later." Sirius brushed the crumbs off his robes. "Thank you Professor," he said, giving his warmest smile in weeks. "It's nice seeing you again."

"The feeling is quite reciprocal."

Sirius couldn't help adding, "And if you ever hear from Remus...?"

"You will be the first to know," said Dumbledore. He waved his wand and the door opened again, with Zaria standing in the doorway. She cocked her head to the side and titled one floppy ear up, making an inquisitive noise.

"Hey." Sirius waved before reverting back to dog form. Zaria blinked in a way words could not express.

"If you have any troubles, don't hesitate to send a letter of your own," Dumbledore ended.

Feeling full and in much better spirits, Sirius gave a wag of his tail and left.

Chapter 19

Claire didn't feel like doing this. She had a headache and was exhausted from the night before. For some unknown reason, she had woken near one and lain there, until daybreak, restless and in pain. Damn medication. If only they would prescribe more morphine instead of the other brand of painkillers she took. Only morphine could relieve that torture she was in; though she had only used it during the full moon, Claire couldn't help thinking about daily dosages of it. Bernard, the worried fool, had given her too much the first full moon in Nice. Yet it had been bliss; it had been heaven; she could hear golden trumpets in her ears. Certainly, everything else she had tried hadn't worked as wonderfully as that drug.

It was difficult not to think of relief at this hour, when she was at her worst. Always at the third hour of physical therapy did exhaustion seep into her bones.

She sat at the leg press in the corner of the rehabilitation room, a large space filled with exercise equipment and weights. A set of three heavy-cushioned beds sat in the corner. Cold sun came from the large, open windows, which were framed with bright green curtains. The atmosphere felt very sterile; Claire thought her very presence contaminated the air around her.

As she arranged herself on the slanted chair, her physical therapist propped her leg up against the pedals. The machine was set at 5 kilos.

"Now push."

Claire gripped the handlebars on either side of the chair and pushed. She pushed with all the ability she could muster. She thought, Don't be stupid, Claire; don't be stupid and stop; don't be stupid like you were before; you can do this don't be stupid; you can do this you can do this don't be that fool you were don't be that fool you were just do it do it DO IT!

She could feel her entire body freeze up. Her arms tightened, her back pressed against the smooth vinyl, her diaphragm contracted and held. And the dead nerves in her leg could be felt and her pulse pounded through her head and the power pushed down and out toward her legs and she screamed with breathless fury, Move! By the spirits, MOVE!

The weight inched forward, straightening out her knees. Miniscule threads of feeling tingled through her thighs down to her calves. Claire collapsed back on the mat. She had done it. Now she had to do it again nine more times.

Her legs were learning how to function all over again. Her muscles and bones had healed over and worked fine, but the nerves were almost dead. She could feel down until her upper thigh; the rest was like lead. At times, little pinpricks stabbed at her knees and occasionally her toes, and the doctors said that was a good sign.

At night, she dreamt that she actually had lost her legs and crawled, on her hands and elbows, with heavy iron weights attached to her waist. Other times, she dreamed that she was simply running, running through the rocky crags and steep slopes near her childhood home, the Castle Bisclaveret. And the chill mountain air would fill her lungs to bursting and the ground felt solid and warmed by the sun. When she woke from those dreams, Claire would try to swing herself out of bed, forgetting about her brace and fall, clumsily, to the floor.

It was horribly embarrassing when she did this. She always managed to pull herself up before Fifi Dubois came to lift her. Bernard, who considered the falls preventable accidents, suggested getting guardrails for her bed. In return, Claire gave him the look of death.

Lifting with her arms was so much easier. Over the last few weeks, Claire had built herself until she could lift a little more than her body weight. Sometimes, she would trail her finger along the growing firmness in her upper arms and feel young again.

If only the rest of her could be just as strong.

"Bien." the physical therapist praised. "Tres bien, Madame." Whenever she said that, Claire always expected a little pat on the head too, or a gold star to put on her forehead. Dr. Manette was a ray of sunshine whose cheerfulness, frankly, annoyed Claire to no end. Her large eyes reminded her of a cow and her compliments sounded like one lowing in the fields. At times, her overflowing happiness dripped like thick, choking molasses. Claire wanted to slaughter her.

She gritted her teeth as the therapist helped set up her leg again.

This Muggle thought she had fallen down the stairs. Everything was reduced into much simpler terms because of it.

Thus, Dr. Manette wOULD never completely understand why Claire's injury couldn't improve. After a few weeks, Claire's progress was so rapid that she had predicted that after a year Claire could try to walk. Then, a couple of weeks later, Claire had come back twice as weak than before. "What had happened?" the physical therapist had said in a sing-song voice. "We had so much success ..."

Claire knew full well what had happened. The full moon.

During surgery following the accident, the wizard doctors had replaced part of her spine with two rods implanted into her back. Yet her body rejected such foreign objects every full moon. In trying to heal itself, her body only worsened her injury by trying to eject the rods straight out of her back during transformation. The same process happened after the full moon as well, with her human body trying to re-formulate a spine that was no longer there and could not be there.

The implications with her artificial hip were even worse. Her greatest fear was waking up after transformation missing half a pelvis - or even worse, with an abstract hunk of bloody metal sticking out of her body. It took all the Muggle medicines and magical potions available to keep her safe and sane during this period of time.

She had a suspicion that if she had surgery to remove all this wizard gadgetry from her body and immediately went through transformation, her body could fix itself, or at least repair her back.

Any requests about this were met with hesitant and pitiful looks. The body can heal itself, but whole body parts can't be regenerated! If you dare act upon this whim, Madame, the possibilities-! And the doctors would shake their heads to themselves. How desperate this poor werewolf must be to propose such an option!

"Again."

And while she strained her entire will to move another 5 kilos, Claire silently cursed Dr. Manette for her gooey voice full of praise and the doctors for not agreeing with her surgery idea and her brother Bernard for treating her like a helpless inferior. And of course, she thought of her friends, who she didn't curse at all.

Claire hadn't heard a word from the Freedom Hounds since she had sent them the letter revealing her spell books' location, which left a whole variety of options to what might have happened. Jarohnen might be free at this very moment. Or he might as well be dead. Over two months had passed since he had been sent to the most guarded cellblock in the Kennel. No wolf ever lasted that long with Dementors.

What shades of the past Jarohnen would be facing was beyond her imagination. He never talked about his experiences in detail; the closest he had got was that brief monologue he gave Remus in the aftermath of the Safehouse sweep. And Claire always suspected there was more.

What if one was bombarded by memories of sadness over and over again? What happens when one forgets the sound of laughter, or how a smile is formed? What is the result when one is dragged through the pits of hell and back?

"You seem distracted today. Is anything wrong?"

Oh, thank you, Dr. Obvious. Claire said, irritably, "Nothing. I had no sleep last night."

"Was it your back?"

"Non..." Claire sighed. "I'm not sure what it was..." she paused, then started again. "Have you ever woken up from a deep slumber with such a start that you knew something was wrong? Last night, I was fine - I don't think I was even dreaming - when a horrible feeling struck me. Something like grief, but not crying, and I woke up not knowing why."

The physical therapist pondered for a moment. "My cousin had a feeling like that once," she replied. "She was taking a little nap one afternoon and woke up with a knot in her throat. And that very same hour her husband got into a awful roll-over while driving home from work."

"Was he all right?"

"In the end. He was one of my patients. He had a friend in the car, though, who died."

Could it be Jarohnen? A flighty alarm like a sparrow's warning went off in her chest. She swallowed hard and forced it back.

"Oh." Claire shook her head. "It is nothing then," she said, keeping a light voice. "I don't believe in death omens."

***

He was dead.

His skin, speckled with ash, was grey and his limps lay sprawled. Sweat long dried plastered his hair to his forehead. His head was turned to the side with his eyes open, glazed and expressionless, observing another world. His lips were parted slightly, as if laughing softly. Only a corpse could lie like Douglas Ripley did, there on the concrete floor of the Incinerator.

Or at least that's what Lottie Gordon had thought.

For Douglas lived, or else Lottie would be in a morgue and not by his bedside. She didn't know why she was here; wait, maybe she did. As her mother always said, "The best thing yu kin dae for a body is tae mak sure they dun wake oop alone in a strange place." Lottie never forgot her mother's advice; it was the only thing she had left of her.

Douglas breathed shallowly on the hospital cot at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It had been a close call; Mo told her that he should be lying in a bed narrower than this one. Lottie had come down to the clean room later, looking for her co-worker, but the stoker was the one who had found him, when he returned down below to finish up his rounds. Miraculously, the emergency anti-venom he gave him had worked in the nick of time, and Douglas's heart had jumpstarted as if it had never skipped a beat. Afterwards, they had had Wilbur help Apparate him to the hospital. Lottie had tagged along, just to make sure her friend got there all right. Big Anes usually skimped on health care for a friendless Squib.

She did consider Douglas her friend, even though he the most curious man she had ever met. Lottie was a lassie who considered everyone to be a friend of hers to some degree, even if he wasn't very open about it. Ralph Connor, for instance, had cursed her existence every night she'd known him, but that wasn't because he hated her guts; it was because Ralph had an irksome temperament. Even that time when he had tried to push her out of the window while she was mucking out the nests - hey, that wasn't a murder attempt; he was just a bit cranky.

But Dougie.... She didn't know what to make of him. At certain times, he was a perfectly agreeable fellow: polite, courteous, and devoted to the art of janitorial work. Lottie had never seen another man as interested in the building as she was. He had often asked her questions about Wilbur and any of the other guards there - and she hadn't withheld herself from answering. After all, she did pretty much know everyone who worked the night shifts at the Edinburgh branch. Douglas made many inquires about the structure of the building too, something Lottie prided herself in knowing. She had given Douglas the entire floor plan for him to use, but still he had had questions she couldn't answer. Why, what a peculiar Squib he was!

Other times, there seemed to be another side to him that Lottie wasn't familiar with. She knew that there was something... off-centre about him. His talking sounded like a real thinker at times, like his parents had sent him off to learn with the Muggles. Some Squibs she knew spoke all high-style because they went to Muggle school. But Lottie never would have wanted to go there; she may not have magic, but she wouldn't lower herself by associating with their kind.

Occasionally, when Douglas wasn't aware of it, she would watch him. Not an hour passed that Dougie didn't drift off into some recess of his secretive mind. For that was something Lottie noticed right off; Douglas kept everything to himself. He would probably walk around with a box over his head if he could help it, if only to prevent others from seeing the expression on his face.

This darker side was the one who had yelled at her the other night. But she forgave him for it. Lottie was a very forgiving person.

And so, because Lottie was Douglas's friend, she waited for him all morning. After the first hour, she fell into a light doze, but even when she woke up early that afternoon, Douglas still hadn't regained consciousness. Ashwinder bites were nasty, possibly fatal things, and Lottie knew it would take time for Douglas to recover.

Only one other person she knew had suffered from an Ashwinder bite, and that was the same stoker who had etched the words, "ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO WORK HERE," on the disposal chute. He had been a pretty dismal mate in the first place, and working with all the fire and smoke must have gotten him down even further. After he was bitten, though, the stoker had cheered up immensely. He didn't slouch but walked with a happy little bounce in his step. He smiled and whistled and tipped his hat whenever Loretta walked by. That stoker transformed into the most cheerful, most contented man she had ever seen. Then, one fine morning, he threw himself in front of a freight train.

Poor fellow, she could never figure out why. His death had occurred within her first year at the Ministry, so she hadn't got a chance to be too chummy with him. What has his name been again? Dante?

She shrugged to herself and removed the tin wrapper from her stick of bubble gum. To pass the time, Loretta counted how many sticks she could cram into her mouth and still be able to chew. At the moment, her number was thirty-seven. She folded the thirty-eighth piece in her hand and was about to break a personal record when Douglas began to stir.

Loretta jumped and grinned. "Hallo Dougie!" she greeted.

He flinched on the bed - not in response to the sound of her voice, but as if prodded to move.

The thought dawned on her that she couldn't speak very well with thirty-seven pieces of gum in her mouth and instead of "Hallo Dougie," she had mumbled something more along the lines of, "Aaoo Uggy."

Douglas opened his eyes and stared, wide-eyed, up at the ceiling.

With much difficulty, Loretta spat out her gum into his bedpan and said cheerfully, "Rise an' shine, Sleepin' Beauty. How are ye keepin'?"

He made no attempt to answer. Lottie was used to that and so went on. "We were a bit worried aboot ye, Dougie," she said. " 'Tis nut ev'ry day tha' one gets bitten by an Ashwinder an' lives tae teel aboot it. Why the onlie other man I knew-" She begun to talk about that strange fellow Dante when Douglas rolled his head towards her.

His appearance made the words die in her mouth.

The dead eyes were still there: those vacant orbs of a corpse that never blinked and never moved. Lottie felt the creepers run through her; she felt as if Douglas had never come back to this world, that the Big Anes just dumped the cold body into a hospital cot. And those eyes, those dreadful eyes that revealed nothing-

Thoughts of the undead came back to her - childhood tales of possessed bodies and devil's minions.

"Douglas?" she ventured humbly.

"Hello, Lottie."

She imagined that the lips never moved when he said that, but they did, making a darkened slit in his face.

She tossed her mouse-brown head in denial. Hogswash and rubbish! she rebuked herself. 'Tis nuthin', nuthin' a-tall...

Lottie put a hand over her heart. "Blessed be, Dougie!" she exclaimed. "Ye leuk half-dead!"

"Please take into account that I was..." said his voice in eerie gentleness. "Or perhaps more than that..."

Lottie tittered nervously, thinking he was making a joke. It sure sounded like one...

She chirped, "Still keepin' tha' sense oo humour!"

Silence. She thought he hadn't heard her, but then he replied, "It's not exactly easy, but I try..." He gave her a small smile. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Weel," she began, feeling much relieved, "Mo was goin' doun after his midnight tea an' he spotted sumthin' by the stairs. Sumtimes, it's so dark doun there, an' he's nut the ane tae believe in daemons, bu' when he caught a glimpse oo ye, weel, he jus'-"

Douglas twitched and put a hand to his temple.

"Dougie?" Lottie said, worried. "Are ye alright?"

"Yes, yes..." Yet at those words, he clenched his eyes shut. His head hit against the pillow. A small sound came from his lips.

Lottie moved on in a livelier voice that betrayed her feelings. "So he saw this big thing at the foot oo the stairs an' pointed his licht at it an' saw t'was ye. An' I was wunderin' upstairs where ye been when he came bac oop carryin' yu lak a bairn an' told me-"

Douglas's body stiffened up again. He rubbed at his temple intensely as he bent over. Another small noise.

"Is it the bite?" she asked tensely.

"No... no...." That wasn't a reply. He put his other hand to his head, as if blocking out voices. "No..." he said under his breath. "Let me be..."

"Dougie..." Lottie reached out to grasp his shoulder but drew back. She didn't want to touch him. All this talk was slowly terrifying her.

Suddenly, his eyes burst open like those of a frightened animal. He grabbed at the mattress either side of him and jerked up, as if an invisible hand had whipped his shoulder blades. Douglas's mouth opened, slack, but not a sound escaped.

The Squib janitor jumped from her seat. "Nurse!" she exclaimed. "Nurse!"

"Don't!" The word tore out his throat. Then, quieter, he said, "Don't... Loretta... please..."

Lottie, uncomfortable enough that Douglas addressed her by her given name, could only watch, half-shocked, as the man restrained his actions. Douglas's head shook once, twice. Then, with great effort, he forced himself to lie back down. Slowly, his hands loosened from the sides of the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wetting his lips as ragged breaths made his chest rise and fall.

The Ashwinder bite's boilin' his blood, she thought. His body's been burnt frum the inside-oot!

"Sleep, Dougie," she said, trying to be stern. In a gesture of maternal instinct, Lottie pulled up the sheets around his still form. "Sleep nou. I'll be bac."

"Don't leave me." Lightening-quick, he gripped her hand. Those eyes awoke with a primal fear, flickering like flame. "Please, Loretta..."

"I'll onlie be awhile," she said, discreetly trying to worm away. But her hand was caught as if in a vice.

"I can't be alone." His voice was firm, almost demanding, but his hands betrayed him. Even with this iron grip, he trembled. Hidden dread strengthened him. He pulled her closer.

"I'll caul a nurse," said Lottie quickly. Immediately, it came to her why he sounded so strange. This wasn't Douglas who was talking; it was someone else! This man's voice was sadder and darker and gentler. And it wasn't laced even with a hint of the Scottish brogue. The old folk tales returned at full force, about demons that would inhabit a person's dead body and tricked others to deal with the devil...

"Who are ye?" she gasped, breaking away.

The man whom she thought was Douglas Ridley looked at her with open hopelessness. "If I am left alone..." he began. He moved forward; she recoiled toward the door.

"Wha' am I sayin'?" Lottie put her hands on her stout hips and ordered, "Douglas Ridley, dunnae be scarin' me no more wi tha' sickness oo yers! Nou I'll be camin' back tomorrow, an' ye bitter get aa yer bearin's oop by then or I'm... I'm..." she fumbled for the words, "I'm afraid tha' ye can't be goin' tae wurk agin!" With that, she bolted from the room.

His voice wailed out behind her. "If I am left alone-!"

"Dunnae be a fool!" she shouted over her shoulder. But it was Lottie who made the Sign of the Cross to herself while departing, and didn't stop until she was safe in the street.

Only moments later, an uncontrollable howl of pain broke the stillness of his room.

A nurse rushed in to see Mr. Ridley huddling upright in the center of his hospital bed, hugging the sheets tightly around his shoulders.

"Sir?"

No answer.

"Sir?"

His shoulders slumped. "Did I... cause a disruption?" came his voice, weary and sore.

"Are you-?"

"Give... my apologies to the staff," he replied, forcing the words out like regurgitation. "I shall be fine..."

The nurse made to speak again, but he cut her off.

"No harm can befall me now. At least, not yet."

The nurse stood there awkwardly, arms ready to do something her mind wasn't sure about. But she gave in with a somewhat casual nod and turned to leave.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

His head moved, but the rest of his body didn't. Mr. Ridley looked her squarely in the eye. The nurse fidgeted uncomfortably. No man could stare like that and still be breathing. Those eyes were just-

"Do you know a man named Kevin Grisham?"

"No sir..."

"Oh, foolish me, of course you wouldn't..." Mr. Ridley nodded slowly, turning back towards the wall.

He stayed in that position all afternoon.