Beyond Azkaban

Chapter Five

***

They had finally gotten in touch with Peter, who had been incredibly hard to find. He told them he had been busy with his new job, although neither he, Lily, nor James really knew what this job was.

After finding him, they gave him their proposal. He was to be Lily and James' Secret Keeper, and no one was to know except for Peter, Lily, James, and himself.

"So you'll do it then?" he asked again on the night that the Charm was to be performed.

"Of course. I agreed the first time you asked, and I'll keep to that," Peter reassured Sirius while nodding to Lily and James.

"Good," Sirius continued, "You're to go into hiding directly after this is finished, and I'll check up on you every once in awhile, you know, getting you food and the like."

"Okay, Sirius," James interrupted. "He gets it. Can we just get this over with?"

"Sure," Sirius said quickly, ignoring the thoughts of doubt flashing before him.

***

He quickly morphed back into Sirius Black when he heard footsteps coming his way. He soon saw a black bowler hat and identified it to be that of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic on his yearly inspection.

The Minister paused in front of his cell and said, "Hello Mr. Black. And how are you?"

Interesting, Sirius thought to himself. He had never spoken to him before. "I'm as good as it can get in here, Minister."

Fudge looked a bit taken aback, maybe because he didn't realize that Sirius knew he was the Minister of Magic, as he was in Azkaban before he came into the office, or maybe because of how normal Sirius sounded. "Yes, well..." the Minister trailed off for lack of ideas of what to say.

So Sirius asked politely, "I wonder if you're done reading the paper, Minister?"

Fudge cleared his throat and answered, "Yes, I am. Would you like it?"

"Please, I miss doing the crossword in the morning."

"Here you go, then," Fudge said, handing him the papers and a quill through the bar.

"Thank you, Minister."

"I have to run along, Mr. Black, you know, check up on the rest of the place. Good day."

Sirius nodded and said, "Good day, Minister."

After Fudge had left, Sirius looked down at the papers in his hand. It had been so long since he had even touched the Daily Prophet, and he began reading it hungrily. The front-page news was about a robbery in Flourish & Blott's, the bookstore in Diagon Alley, so obviously he wasn't missing too much. He flipped through the pages, and a picture of a happy family, his cousins, the Weasleys, in front of a pyramid in Egypt caught his eye. He stared at the picture, looking at a boy of about thirteen years.

"Bloody hell..." he said aloud.

On the boy's shoulder was a rat, a rat without a finger on its front paw. Peter...

His eyes darted to the article, and he began reading it with a renewed vigor.

"MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE

SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE"

"Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, 'We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.'

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend."

He was at Hogwarts. Peter Pettigrew was at Hogwarts, where Harry was.

A million "What Ifs?" ran through his head. What if Voldemort came to power again? Peter would, he would....

But maybe that rat in the photograph wasn't Peter. There were hundreds of rats all over England, so why should this one be Peter? Maybe the finger had been cut off during a fight, or maybe the rat really had cut it off himself while running from Sirius Black.

After all, how many times had he seen Peter transform since their fifth year at Hogwarts? And it all made sense. Of course Peter would find a home with a wizarding family, just in case Voldemort came back to power so he could run back to him. He had so hoped that he was miserable in a sewer, too.

***

The boy's dorm at Hogwarts was nothing new; he had lived in it for seven years of his life, but the people sleeping in it were. Two boys of thirteen were sleeping peacefully and contentedly in their beds. One had messy, jet black hair, while the other was a tall redhead with a rat resting on his pillow.

"He's at Hogwarts," he murmured.

Sirius' heart skipped a beat as he realized how close he was to revenge, to saving Harry. He walked slowly and quietly, with his hands outstretched to grab the small and vulnerable rat....

***

"He's at Hogwarts," Sirius said as he suddenly woke up. The same dream had been haunting him since he read the article, which he now kept in a pocket inside his robes.

Maybe that was why he continued to have dream after dream of killing Peter, or Peter killing Harry. With either dream, he always woke up saying the same thing; "He's at Hogwarts". He wondered whether or not the dementors had told the Ministry that. They would probably think he was out to get Harry, not a rat that currently lived with the Weasley family.

He laughed at the idea and soon felt sick to his stomach. The million questions that had plagued him when he first discovered Peter's hideaway came back to him, and he felt the need to do something. He was the only one who knew the truth, even Remus didn't know. Hell, Remus didn't even know who the true spy was. So it was all up to him, Sirius. But what could he do in prison, in the most feared prison, Azkaban?

Sirius morphed into Padfoot, wanting to be able to think without the dementors understanding his thoughts. If only he could get out of here, if only there was proof that he was innocent, if only he had a wand.

He stared at the bars keeping him inside his cell; his eyes boring into the hard metal and spells keeping him in as if burning them all. Then he looked down at his animal self. Could he possibly get past those many spells as a dog? He was thin enough; twelve years in prison could do that to a person, and could probably run past the dementors as a dog. It was all worth a try....

Despite the fact that he was an ordinarily huge dog, he slipped through the bars easily, and no spells sent him hurtling backward back into the cell. Astounded, he paused for a moment looking into his former cell, then darted before the dementors figured out that Sirius Black was gone. He ran as quickly as possible, finding his way out despite the many twists and turns and the goggling faces of the other prisoners. The only thing in his way was the water, the vast ocean before him. So, without looking back, he did the only thing he could do, he dived in and swam.

***

He washed up or swam; he wasn't sure which, onto the shore. Exhausted, he fell asleep; leading passersby to believe a wet and haggard dog was lazily enjoying time on the beach....

Padfoot opened his eyes slowly, confused and curious as to where he was. The dog lifted his head and sniffed the air, smelling the salty scent of a beach. His ears pricked up and he heard the gulls crying for food. Something that had been buried inside for years woke up along with him, and he quickly stood on all fours and bounded about the beach, nipping at the gulls and thoroughly enjoying the warm sun in an otherwise cold climate.

The dog paused for a moment and was soon replaced by a tall, gaunt man called Sirius Black. He began to think rationally, thinking about where he was and where he had to go. He was probably in Scotland, as he had been swimming for almost a week now. If that was the case, he would have to head south towards Hogwarts. He would rest in the Shrieking Shack, assuming it was still there. After that, he planned to go to Surrey in search of Harry, just to see him. Then he would head back north to Hogwarts, but taking a detour to Remus' along the way for the same reason he wanted to see Harry: just to see him.

Of course, there was that small detail in which the Ministry hunted him down to send him back to the dementors. He would have to travel as Padfoot, and he needed to get to a wizarding community as soon as possible to get a copy of the Daily Prophet out of a trashcan. The more news he could get, the better off he was.

The dog now replaced the man, which had soon headed south.

***