A Reflection of Himself

Sirius spent his days slumping around the insides of the Shrieking Shack, only to be occasionally visited by Lupin, for whom Dumbledore granted access to the tunnel only on a couple of occasions. It was surprising to both Sirius and Lupin that the old headmaster had actually changed his mind enough to allow such a thing, especially after how clear he had made his point that only Sirius was to be granted access to the passageway, and even then, only when what Dumbledore deemed was "absolutely necessary."

As the days of spring continued to pass, he longed more and more to escape. After about two weeks of confinement, Sirius, not caring if it was against Dumbledore's wishes, turned into Padfoot and began wandering the streets of Hogsmeade after dark.

As the great black dog trotted down the street, he kept himself one with the shadows. The streets were desolate and deserted at this time of night. Every so often, Sirius could hear a voice here or there of someone shouting to another, usually shopkeepers wishing each other a good night. One by one, the lights went out in the shops, and people retired for the day. Idly, Sirius wandered down the street to the shady side of town, hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of something entertaining, like someone getting thrown out of a pub.

And speaking of pubs, there was the Hog's Head looming off in the distance. The dim glow of candlelight eerily shone through its front door's tiny, filthy window, casting long shadows onto the street outside. Cautiously nearing the pub, Padfoot raised his ears and listened attentively for interesting conversation. The bartender, none other than Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, was keeping quiet, not wanting to raise suspicion as he went about innocently polishing glassware.

A loud thud emitted from the pub, causing Padfoot to jump back in surprise, but luckily (for him), he didn't bark. The sound came from a large, angry man who had just lost a game of wizard cards to his younger brother. He had pounded his massive fist of clenched hairy-knuckled fingers onto the worn wooden table and was now glaring across the small distance between himself and his slightly unnerved brother.

"'Twas just a lil game, Dolph-" the younger brother murmured.

"Don't say my name in public, you bloody fool," the one named Dolph hissed at his brother, aggressively grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. When his actions rose suspicion from others in the shady pub, Dolph released the other man, and they both slumped back down into their seats.

"Any ideas wha' happened to her?" the brother asked quietly.

"Don' know. Not that I miss her much." Dolph took a deep swig of his liquor and wiped the dribble from his unshaven chin on his sleeve.

"He's mad, ya know," the younger one pointed out plainly.

"No kiddin'?" Dolph ventured sarcastically, his speech evidently slurred.

Sirius quickly noticed that both men's voices were slurred with drunkenness, and with his acute dog hearing, he was able to pick up on a lot more of the conversation than any human could. The name Dolph, combined with his accent, and with the fact that they were discussing a woman's odd circumstances... plus the mysterious "he"... well, putting the pieces of the puzzle together, Sirius knew he was listening in on a conversation between none other than Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. They were probably under Polyjuice or had transfigured some of their physical attributes just enough not to be recognized, but from behind the bar, even Aberforth was growing suspicious.

"When will be the next time?" the younger brother cryptically asked.

"Shut it, you git," Dolph murmured, growing ever more aggravated with his brother. "Prolly a coupla weeks."

"You think he'll call Sn-"

"Didn' I already tell you to shut it?" Dolph hissed maliciously, spit flying from his mouth and hitting Rabastan in the face.

Disgusted, Rabastan wiped the spittle from his cheek and glared at his older brother. "Well, all I'm sayin' is he's growin' impatient. Maybe somethin' useful'll come outta it."

Rodolphus rolled his dark eyes. "Maybe, but I doubt it."

The sudden shuffling of chairs and then heavy footsteps toward the door signified Sirius to move away just in time as the oaken door swung open into the cool spring night air. Out stepped two dark figures, and from his vantage point behind some barrels, Sirius watched their retreating backs. Emitting a very low growl, his fur bristled all along his back, down his tail. He wondered what was stopping him from taking off after those two Death Eaters and biting them to pieces.

The thought of Harry: that is what kept him sitting there. He knew that to act recklessly and foolishly at a time like this would not do anyone any small amount of good.

Knowing my luck, I would wind up dead before sunrise, but not before being used as bait to lure Harry to his potential doom. I just escaped from beyond the veil... Damn it... I just can't risk it. The price everyone would pay would be too high.

Feeling worthless and defeated, Sirius returned to the Shrieking Shack. The moment he was within the safe confines of the rickety house, he turned back into his human form and began pacing the room. His tired, bloodshot eyes came to rest on the portal in the floor that led to the Whomping Willow. His vision shifted nervously back and forth as his eyes wildly darted, as he restlessly paced. Then, he saw his reflection in a broken, dirty mirror.

Going to the mirror, Sirius regarded himself closely, taking in his umkempt appearance, shaking his head at how he had let himself go. Since his return, he had the beginnings of a full beard, and his long hair was plain filthy and uncombed. Having not changed his clothes or taken a bath, he knew he must have smelled awful. Grimacing at the rather pathetic way his torn garments hung loosely off his frail, thin form, he muttered to himself, "What happened to you? You wanna do something useful for once for the Order? Well, maybe Dumbledore'll hate me for it, but I need to tell him what I just saw. I don't care if I'll be putting myself at risk. There's already too much at risk here."

Scowling, Sirius couldn't believe he had just spent the past minute talking to his reflection. Turning his back on himself, he made for the secret passageway and thread through the damp bowels of the earth toward Hogwarts.

After a few minutes in the cramped, hot confines of the passageway, Sirius emerged at the base of the Whomping Willow, which was moving frantically, swinging its branches in all directions, including at Sirius. He dodged a leafy branch just in time, avoiding a face full of scratches. Now looking at the castle, Sirius sighed, wondering if he would be able to enter.

He began to make his way toward the front doors, deciding to try his luck, but then a thought occurred to him. He recalled using an almost hidden back door that led down a narrow stairway to the dungeons. He had utilized it many times as a student, especially when James, Peter, and he would sneak out in the middle of the night to romp around the grounds in their animagus forms with a transformed Lupin.

Now moving quietly and swiftly along the wall of the castle, Sirius prodded his wand along the stones, also running his free hand along them, searching for that entrance. Finally, he found it. Although overgrown with vines and weeds, Sirius knew it was a charm purposefully placed on the door that he assumed was meant to be solely used as an emergency exit. Well, this time, it was an emergency entrance.

Sliding inconspicuously into the interior, Sirius made sure the door was closed behind him before descending the stairs in front of him. When he had nearly reached the bottom, he turned into Padfoot, knowing that it would be entirely too foolish to walk through the corridors of Hogwarts in his human form. Trotting through the hallway, he tried to stay hidden in the shadows, which wasn't too difficult, considering he was in the dungeons and the late hour. He nearly groaned aloud, though, when his doggy eyes noticed a dark figure looming ahead.

Damn, it's Snape. Doesn't he have anything better to do than prowl the halls at night?

Sirius stopped moving, hoping to blend in well enough, but Snape wasn't so easily fooled. He had his wand tip lit with Lumos, apparently looking for students who were out past curfew. He almost immediately noticed the black dog that was Sirius.

Stopping a few feet from the dog, Snape sneered down at him, "Well, well, what have we here? A stray mutt that's somehow wandered into Hogwarts, seeking shelter and food?"

Answering his own question mentally, Sirius thought, I guess not.

Releasing a low, menacing growl at Snape, Sirius hoped his old school nemesis would back off. Snape, however, had no intention of doing so. Grabbing Sirius by the scruff of his neck, he demanded, "You're coming with me."

Sirius tried to snap at Snape, but wondered what good it would really do to anger the indignant man. Struggling free of Snape's grip, he reluctantly followed him down the hall and into what he assumed were his quarters. Once the door was closed, Snape said in false politeness, "You may turn back into your equally distasteful human counterpart now."

With one last growl, Sirius transformed, rubbing his neck. "Did you have to be so rough?" he complained, glaring at Snape.

Snape ignored his question and went straight to asking his own. "What are you doing here, Black?"

"I came to see Dumbledore," Sirius replied, losing his temper, "and I most certainly don't have to answer to you."

Too tired to fully argue with Sirius, Snape inquired, "What has happened?"

"I overheard Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange in the Hog's Head. They were talking about Bellatrix's disappearance, Voldemort's anger-"

"Don't say the Dark Lord's name!" Snape hissed without hesitation.

"Oh, get over it already," Sirius grumbled. "That's the bloody creature's name. Anyway, my point is that they think the next meeting will be in a couple of weeks, and they have a feeling you may be summoned."

Snape felt his stomach lurch. "Can you be sure?" he asked softly, turning paler than usual, his eyes glinting strangely.

"Yes. They were a bit too loose with the tongue because they were drinking, and even though anyone else who's not familiar with the details of the Death Eaters wouldn't have known what they were talking about, I'd say it was pretty obvious."

Snape nodded. "Then I can see why you needed to see Dumbledore. He must know right away."

Noticing the faraway look in Snape's eyes, Sirius frowned. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked carefully.

"Hardly. Let's go."

Snape used Floo powder to access Dumbledore's office, and together, they stepped through. Surprised to see Sirius, Dumbledore was still kind and genial, offering them both seats.

"So, what brings you two here at this particularly late hour?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have some important information, sir," Sirius explained.

"And how, may I ask, did you find out this information?" Dumbledore inquired.

"I was, uh... walking through the streets as Padfoot," Sirius said a bit sheepishly, avoiding the Headmaster's eyes.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said in a lecturing tone, "you know better. Do you have any idea what you're risking?"

"That's not the point!" Sirius exclaimed, annoyed. "Look, I'm tired of just sitting back and letting everyone else do something useful for the Order... for our cause. I just spent two years in another realm, locked in a portrait, unable to help at all. I'm not going to relive two years ago... being locked up like a prisoner."

"But you miss the point, Sirius," Dumbledore explained in an irritatingly patient voice. "By leaving so recklessly, you risk your life just like you did two years ago."

"I don't care," Sirius ground out.

"Typical Gryffindor behavior," muttered Snape.

Ignoring Snape, Sirius continued, "Harry told me you realized the wrong of your ways, sir. He told me you felt horrible for keeping both him and me locked up, trying to keep us safe, but not allowing us to be happy."

Dumbledore sighed. "That is true, my boy, but I still have a right to worry."

"Don't," Sirius insisted.

"That is what I always try to tell him," Snape added, "but he insists on wasting his time worrying."

"Enough of this," Dumbledore said, for once growing irritated. "What did you have to tell me, Sirius?"

Sirius explained what he had overheard in the Hog's Head. Dumbledore nodded, murmuring, "Aberforth did inform me a couple hours ago that there had been two suspicious characters in his pub earlier this evening. He, unfortunately, didn't hear nearly as much as you did, Sirius. For what you have told me, I am very glad and very grateful. It may come in use."

Dumbledore's piercing eyes were now resting on Snape, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What is it, sir?" he asked softly.

"Are you prepared to be summoned, Severus?" Dumbledore asked plainly.

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you remember Voldemort's request the last time he saw you."

"Yes, he asked that I bring the key to Mr. Potter's and your destruction," Snape whispered hoarsely. "What am I to tell him?"

For once in his life, Snape seemed at a loss for thoughts and ideas. A large part of him interiorly had never fully recovered from the attack he had suffered months earlier at the hands of Voldemort's followers and Voldemort's demands. "Surely he must have a plan to attack," Dumbledore said in an oddly calm voice. "We must outsmart him."

"You mean, make him come to us on our terms," Snape added, understanding the direction Dumbledore was taking.

"Exactly."

Both Sirius and Snape were regarding Dumbledore carefully, seeing the steel determination in his blue eyes. Every wrinkle seemed so rigid and hard, clearly defined with the length of his years. When Sirius had come to Dumbledore with this information, he had not thought it would have been this useful, but now he had to admit a small victory to himself.

He couldn't resist smirking a little smugly at Snape, saying, "Am I finally doing something useful for the Order?"

Snape groaned. "I will not dignify that question with a response, Black."

"I guess that means yes," Sirius said.

From across the desk, Dumbledore's expression softened as he watched the two men in front of him. Never had he imagined the day when they would actually be civil toward one another, let alone perhaps be able to joke, albeit sarcastically. Thinking back to nearly three years prior, Dumbledore remembered how he had practically forced them to shake hands, recalling the looks of equal loathing on each of their faces. Seeing them now, he was proud.