The Promise

Chapter 3 - I Will Come For You

When Sirius woke, he lay between the other flotsam the flood had washed ashore. He was lying on his back, in human form once more, soaked to the bone and freezing. He blinked, his eyes still burning from the salt, the skin on his cheeks and lips dry and taught. The sky above him was a dark and dull grey and spoke of rain, the air full of the smell of seaweed and the cries of gulls. His body too tired to move anyway, Sirius let his head drop back against the wet sand for a moment, savouring his surroundings. The beach stretched to both sides and was deserted. Apparently it wasn't the day for a nice, lazy stroll along the shore and Sirius was glad. Not only because being seen might cause trouble, but because he wasn't sure he could cope with the normality of other people's lives. It was all so surreal.

Finally, when the cold crept even more into his body, he slowly came up on all fours. His hands felt raw against the ground. Everything about him felt so raw. Behind him the beach stretched for a few yards and then turned into a slope cropped with bushes. He clenched his teeth and transformed once more, knowing there was no way he wouldn't attract immediate attention in his human form. There was another feeling, one he didn't want to investigate too closely, but it too was relieved when hands turned into paws again. It felt safer.

The skinny black dog trudged up the shore and vanished in the bushes.

***

Like Harry had expected, the next day had not gone well. When his aunt had shaken him awake at seven in the morning there had been a long list of chores waiting, ranging from stuff like cleaning the windows to weeding to tidying Dudley's room. Even with the amount of windows and flower beds, and all the smaller tasks as well, Harry had known it would be this last one that would do him in. He had worked all day without a break, fighting down the dizziness that would sometimes take hold of him.

Then he had started on Dudley's room. Or he had tried. It was rather difficult to clean a room when the occupant kept screaming at you to not touch anything, threatening dire consequences, mostly involving him, Harry, at the receiving end of Dudley's fists. He had already been kicked and pushed a few times for daring to pick up a toy or some dirty clothes from the floor.

When the sun began to sink lower and the light became that of early evening, Harry started to panic. He knew if he hadn't finished his chores when his uncle came home from work he would be in a world of trouble. And his uncle had to be due any minute now. He shivered at the thought of what he might do, and only hoped it would involve beating him rather than shutting him in the cupboard again, this time maybe for all eternity.

With a hesitant glance at Dudley, who seemed preoccupied with his play station at the moment, Harry picked up some more of the dirty clothes. That's when he heard his uncle's car pulling into the drive.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He was doomed.

***

The days that followed were not pleasant for the little boy and neither were they for the haggard wizard.

Harry had received the anticipated beating for not accomplishing a few simple chores and had been locked in the cupboard without dinner. He was too exhausted to even weep and too anxious to fall asleep. He knew there would be more work for him tomorrow, and he tried, he really did, but still... time was always working against him and he was just always so tired. His arms hurt from all the cleaning and scrubbing and carrying and his stomach hurt from the lack of food. Harry lay awake for a long time, frenzied with worries and paralyzed with fear and a feeling of such utter helplessness that it threatened to suffocate him.

Pressing his eyes closed, he tried to bring up his favourite fantasy. The beginning was always the same. It began with the arrival of a long lost relative of his. An uncle, who had been out of the country for a long time. He had been shipwrecked and lost on an island, he had been in an accident and only recently regained his memory, whatever it was, he had come back and only now found out about Harry. He had come to take him away, so that he could live with him in his castle with his beautiful wife, and maybe a little son who would be Harry's baby brother, and he would have a bedroom with a real bed and pancakes for breakfast. And they would like him and maybe they would even hug him, like he had seen some parents do when they picked up their children after school. The circumstances why this uncle or another distant relative only now came forward were always different, but the ending was the same every time. Harry was leaving the cupboard and the Dursleys and became part of a real family. But of course, even while dreaming, Harry knew that this would never happen. There was no relative, and even if there were, he would never want Harry, and he certainly wouldn't love him.

***

Sirius had staggered inland, trying to find shelter to take a little rest and then maybe something to eat. He slept in a stable for a few hours, but as far as food went he finally had to settle for some half rotten leftovers gathered from some Muggle rubbish bins. He ate them in his dog form, because he couldn't bear the stuff touching his human taste buds. It was just too unsavoury, even after the stale food in Azkaban.

With every mile he put between himself and the wizard prison that had been his home for the last years, with every minute he was out of the reach of the horrible guards of that place, he noticed more and more how little of anything real he had perceived in there. Not the taste of the food. Not the scratching of the thin and rough prison robes. Not even the physical pain of the cuts on the soles of his bare feet or the rumbling hunger in his stomach. It had all been drowned in the endless waves of misery and grief. It had all been frozen in the icy cold that had filled his every hour in that dark and lonesome hellhole.

But now it was all slowly coming back. Now his feet hurt from the cuts and blisters, another reason to remain in dog form for as long as he could summon the energy. Now his stomach felt like a hard ball that was clawing at his insides, trying to climb up his throat in search of something to eat. What remained with him were the exhaustion as well as the cold. He still felt so horribly cold that he constantly was shivering. He couldn't seem to shake it, although the sun was shining, and from what he could gather it must be late August. He still felt cold, as if the rays of the sun couldn't reach his skin.

Sirius travelled as the shaggy black dog for as long as he could keep up his animagus form. His magical abilities still felt weak. Everything about him felt weak, but that did not keep him from pushing himself always a little more than his body and mind was willing to give. If the shaking got so bad that he couldn't go on, he found some barn or some thicket where he could rest for a few hours. It had been hard to get his bearings at first, but then it was pretty obvious that as long as he went south he couldn't do much wrong.

***

Two days later a little mercy finally found its way to both the boy and the escaped wizard.

Sirius came across a freight yard and a train, just about to leave, that - as far as he could gather from an argument between the conductor and another muggle - was heading to London and would indeed stop in Little Whinging. And Harry was informed that, while the Dursleys would take a trip to the zoo the next day to celebrate the last weekend before the start of school, Harry would be staying with their neighbour, Mrs Figg, so that he wouldn't burn the house down in their absence.

***

Sirius had at first thought he must have accidentally drunk Felix Felize but, never one to question an opportunity, he had stiffly climbed into one of the wagons when no one was looking. He had lain in the juddering wagon all through the night, drifting in and out of sleep as he contemplated for the first time just what exactly he would do if he found Harry. If his suspicions were true and his aunt and uncle were mistreating him, there was no power on earth that would stop him from pounding them so deeply into the ground that they would be better off digging a little further and starting to live in Australia. But... what about Harry? Sirius was a convict on the run for getting his parents killed - among other things. Most likely, Harry would hate him if he knew who he was. Quite probably he would be afraid of him and what he might do to him. Not that he blamed him... after all the whole tragedy was his fault.

He tossed and turned, lost in his worries, and when the train finally came to a shrieking halt again, the grey light of dawn filtered through the crack of the door. Sirius stumbled to his feet, groaning from the stiff feeling in his bones and once more freezing. Rubbing his arms against the cold that seemed to linger wherever he went, he peered out of the door. There was no one in sight and, when his gaze fell on a small sign with peeling black letters that read 'Little Whinging - loading platform', he sighed in relief. Now all he had to do was find Harry and then... he had no buggering clue what then, but Sirius was willing to take it one step at a time.

***

Harry wasn't miserable. For the little boy that was quite an occasion. He would maybe even go as far as to say that he was happy, but he wasn't entirely sure if he knew enough about how that felt. But still, this was the best feeling he ever had. The best things in his life were days at Mrs Figg's. It wasn't that Mrs Figg was such a wonderful person. She was rather strange and smelled of mothballs, and her whole house smelled of cats, which wasn't a surprise since at least eight of them lived there as far as Harry could tell.

Harry loved days at Mrs Figg's mainly because it meant he was not with the Dursleys. Hours and hours without his uncle yelling at him, without his aunt glaring at him and without Dudley doing anything in his power to get him into trouble and at the receiving end of a beating. Mrs Figg on the other hand would mainly talk to him about her cats and someone named Gilderoy Lockhart, who seemed to be something like a travel writer and whom Mrs Figg obviously worshipped and adored. Harry had never heard of him before, but then the Dursleys didn't have many books. Maybe even the best about the days at Mrs Figg's though, was that she didn't mind when he went out on his own, roaming. It was the only actual free time he ever had.

Since it was cloudy, but at least not raining, Harry slipped out of the house after tea. He had even got biscuits! They were a little hard, but still better than anything the Dursleys gave him. He strolled down the street in the direction of a little park at the other end of the estate, which had a small playground. Probably because of the rather dull weather there weren't many people in the streets and the playground was deserted, with the exception of a young woman and a small boy of maybe four, sitting on a bench and feeding the birds.

Harry went to the swing set on the other side of the ground and sat down on one of the swings, watching his dangling feet. But every once in a while he would cast a shy and longing look at the pair of mother and son. The woman had her arm around the little boy's shoulders, cuddling him close and talking to him with a smile on her face. Harry watched them out of the corner of his eye and wondered if his mother had ever looked at him like that when she was still alive.

***

Sirius had been strolling as a dog through Little Whinging for the better part of a day now. He didn't know the address of Harry's relatives, and was slowly losing all hope that he would have any success in locating Harry. He had come to a little park and lay down in some shrubs near a playground, pondering on his options.

That's when he saw him. There was no doubt in Sirius that this was Harry. He looked like a miniature Prongs. The same unruly black hair, the same round face, the same features if maybe still a little softer, blurrier and less pronounced. He was sitting alone on the swing, shuffling his feet in the sand, apparently lost in his thoughts.

Something hot and heavy tugged in his chest and Sirius felt himself transform. He had to see Harry with his human eyes.

Crouching in the bushes Sirius stared at the little boy on the swing. It had been seven years since he had last seen him. It was a memory he had only recently regained and it was still kind of blurry.

He had arrived at James and Lily's just before Harry's bedtime story and like always the little boy was still not drowsy at all, but babbling away in his own tongue. The moment he had seen Sirius he had begun to struggle in his mother's arms, squealing and reaching his little, chubby arms towards his godfather."Pa! Pa! Pa pa pa!"Harry had shrieked, and Sirius had frozen in his tracks. His gaze flickered nervously to James, who was frowning at him.

Lily's face showed surprise as well, but there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips. She came towards him and handed him the giggling baby boy. Still stunned, Sirius held his godson in his arms, holding him up so that their faces were on the same level. Harry laughed and brought his little hands to Sirius' face. "Pa-ft!" he said and giggled."Uf! Uf uf!"

Lily giggled too. "He means Padfoot!" she laughed, shaking her head. James came up to them too now, putting his arms around his wife from behind.

"Maybe he likes you better as a dog, mate," he said, grinning at his best friend.

"You looked the same when he called you 'Da' for the first time," Lily whispered, snuggling against James, and they both smiled at their dumbstruck friend as he looked at their little boy with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The rest of the memory of that evening was lost in swirling fog. All he remembered were his friends laughing and Harry giggling and the indescribable feeling of being at home.

Sirius shook himself out of his thoughts. That evening seven years ago had been the last time he had been happy. The times were dark and the dangers grave, but he was with the only family he had ever known. All had been right. For the last time. When he went out the door that night, laughing, he had not known that it would be the last time. He had not known that he would never see them again...

TBC