Black Days

There's something different in the air tonight, thick and tangible, oddly familiar yet unnerving. Sirius Black can taste it, smell it, heightened senses taken from his ability to shift into a large black dog, a convenient price to pay for his illegal status as an Animagus. Even Buckbeak, often standing proud and regal despite their temporary residence in a cave outside of Hogsmeade, has taken to curling up in the deepest and darkest corner, eyes staring unblinkingly at the cave entrance, as if awaiting the worst. Sirius has come to have faith in Buckbeak's instincts and he pats at the hippogriff's beak thoughtfully.

"It's alright, Buckbeak, " he mutters under his breath, following Buckbeak's line of sight. "There's something happening out there, huh? Something bad..."

Even the weather seems to understand the foreboding presence of an unknown threat, rain-filled storm clouds rolling overhead, the spike of crackling electricity which makes the air feel static like a live wire, charged and dangerous and ready to kill.

Yes, there's something terrible in the night and Sirius struggles to contain his anxious twitching; his mind turns, as it always does, to his godson.

Ever since Harry Potter's name was drawn from the Triwizard Cup, Sirius has been on tenterhooks. His swift return to the country, indeed even finding such an undesirable place to live in such as this cave, has all been for the sake of Harry, to be nearer, to offer words of comfort and guidance. He bitterly thinks of the neglected years, of the suffering Harry has endured in the face of his muggle family, and it leaves an acrid taste in his mouth. Living off rats is a measly punishment to receive for his unintentional abandonment of Harry in the most crucial of years.

Since his escape from the clutches of the Ministry two years ago, he's been trying to right his mistake and hold true to the promise he made to James and Lily all that time ago when he agreed to be Harry's godfather but even his frequent communication with Harry through letters and fireplaces has not been able to quell his guilt of breaking that promise to start with.

He knows the third and final task of the Triwizard Cup is taking place this very moment and oh, how he wishes that he were there. He can't imagine the trials Harry could be facing, what creatures and spells and hurdles the underage wizard has to overcome. Sirius tugs at his hair, sending pinpricks of pain into his scalp - he should be there, not hiding in a dark hole.

All he can do is wait and wait and wait.

Sirius is starting to wonder whether it would be worth heading into the village to scavenge today's edition of the Daily Prophet when a phoenix, plumage of fantastic red and orange and yellow, streaks into the cave and circles above the heads of Sirius and Buckbeak. It's unmistakable as to whom the bird belongs to as a letter and a single feather drop to Sirius' feet. Buckbeak eyes it with immediate indignation, wings bristling at his sides, that not even a soothing pat of Sirius' hand can alleviate.

He doesn't question how Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, knew of his location - the man just simply always knows - and wastes no time in scooping up the letter and feather just as Fawkes flies back into the gloomy night.

With unsteady fingers, he tears open the letter and reads it through, heart growing colder with every word.

Sirius,

It is urgent that you hasten immediately to Hogwarts. I fear that Lord Voldemort is returned and Harry in imminent danger. Use the private fireplace in the Hog's Head at Hogsmeade. The landlord will be busy in the bar, he need not know you were ever there. Floo directly to my office.

Albus Dumbledore

Sirius wastes no time. He throws an old chicken leg bone to Buckbeak to keep him occupied before transforming into a dog in the blink of an eye, already scrambling down the rocks to run into Hogsmeade. In his canine mind, his emotions become less complex, more focused and potent. He trips over his own paws several times from nerves but he ignores the burning against his skin and doesn't think for long on that he can deal with any scrapes at a less pressing time.

The shaggy dog nearly knocks over an elderly witch heading home with arms full of shopping, barely hearing her yells of annoyance as he dives over cracked jars of potion ingredients and streaks away past Zonko's joke shop, past Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks. It seems an age has passed when he arrives at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, outside the Hog's Head, panting as he pushes his way through the back door with his snout.

He switches back to his normal self, still breathless from exertion, and hears the low chatter of the customers from the front of the pub. Stealthily, he creeps up to the fireplace, pinching a handful of Floo powder to cast into the flames.

"Albus Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!" he says, shooting off into the fire.

He's glad that the journey is short. Dumbledore is already waiting for him beside the fireplace in his office and offers an arm for him to take as he climbs out. Sirius' mouth is already opening with endless questions and demands but Dumbledore shakes his head to silence him as he is lead deeper into the room.

"Sirius, it is imperative that you remain here."

He gains a fleeting impression of trinkets and books, of Fawkes at his perch near Dumbledore's desk, before rounding on the headmaster.

"But you said - Harry - I need to see him, right away."

Dumbledore holds up an impatient hand, his face grave, "I am afraid that that is out of the question. I cannot allow you to burst into the room where Harry has been taken, I fear it will cause more harm than good for you to expose yourself at such a delicate time. You must stay here while I go to Harry, Sirius. Do you trust me to look after him in your stead?"

"I - I, of course I do but...he, he's James and Lily's son - my godson! I need to see him, I have to see if he's okay, he's my responsibility - " Sirius cries hoarsely, looking beyond Dumbledore, as if expecting Harry to be there.

"And you will, Sirius, but I beg you for just a little more patience. I must go to Harry now, Minerva and Severus are already on their way to him, they will need me. I summoned you because you are the closest Harry has to a parent. I believe he has grown rather fond of you and that your presence will be of great comfort to him. Can you assure me that you will wait here, Sirius?" Dumbledore asks firmly, blue eyes piercing his own. When Sirius makes no immediate reply, he grips his upper arm with surprising strength. "I impress upon you that time is of the essence, must I lock you within this very room?"

"You'll bring him straight here, to me?" Sirius asks pleadingly, searching the older man's face in desperation.

"You have my word. Shall I have yours?"

Numb all over, Sirius nods and gives in to the headmasters wishes, dropping heavily into the closest seat.

"Thank you, " he says gratefully, turning to the staircase. He pauses for a brief moment, to look back at Sirius' gaunt and pale face. "Harry has been through a tragic ordeal tonight, Sirius. He has not only, as I fear, seen the return of Lord Voldemort but also born witness to the death of a peer. I ask you to be strong, for his sake."

Tight lipped and wide eyed, Sirius can only nod again, a sharp, curt thing. He feels out of control in his own body, unable to uncurl his fingers from the edges of the chair he is seated on or to hunch his spine from his straight backed, stiff position.

Dumbledore sweeps from the room, the door swinging shut of its own accord behind him.

It is surreal being here, in Dumbledore's office. It almost feels like he's dropped into another person's life, picked up their faded memories. He would never be able to tell whether there were any new additions to Dumbledore's collection of intriguing and mystifying objects, he doubts he had seen even half of them during his time at Hogwarts to begin with - which is not to say that he isn't personally acquainted with the room in question.

He had been summoned on many occasions to this particular room, always with a grinning James beside him, often with a quivering Peter on his other side, and rarely with a repentant Remus standing, full of shame, behind his back.

He takes to staring at Fawkes as all sorts of horrible thoughts are stirred up, thoughts he'd had to live with for twelve years, brought on by the Dementors outside of his door; showing up at James and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow, seeing it blown apart and the roof caving in, Hagrid flying off on Sirius' own motorbike with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

He didn't cry - not right away - but started to frantically claw his way through the rubble. He hadn't used his wand, it's funny how it never occurred to him at the time, not even as finger nails ripped and skin tore. He will never forget the sight of the hand with curled fingers protruding from the pile of broken bricks - a hand he knew well, a hand he'd grasped many times in his life. Tears came as he held onto James' body, virtually unmarked, almost as if he could have been sleeping if it were not for the vacant look in his wide eyes. Years of friendship flashed through his brain like an unending reel of muggle film, burning up with the heat of his unbridled rage.

He remembers releasing James, of being unable to say goodbye, to track down Peter Pettrigrew. Peter, who accused him of betraying their friends. Peter seemingly exploding before his eyes. The flick of a rat's tail disappearing into a sewer as Sirius was left in the wake of destruction, cackling maniacally at the conniving cleverness of Wormtail for framing him, still choking on his laughter even as Aurors led him away to Azkaban.

He had been so close to his revenge. He would have killed Peter two years ago, if Harry had not asked him to stop. For so long, he had dreamt of avenging James and Lily, of making Peter pay for what he had done to even himself. In just over a decade in prison, he had imagined over a million different ways to make his former friend suffer, knowing that one day he would get his opportunity.

And yet he let him go. He let him live, all because Harry had asked. There is nothing he would not do for Harry Potter.

How long he has waited in Dumbledore's office before company arrives, he cannot say. Sirius jumps when the staircase behind the door lurches into action. He can hear them, climbing the moving stairs, seconds away from entering the office. He leaps to his feet, mouth dry, his entire body trembling at what he might see when that door opens.

Harry's voice drifts up into the office and through the door to reach Sirius' keen ears, asking about the Diggory boy's parents. Sirius could laugh from the relief of hearing him, of knowing that he sounds shaken but alive. The selflessness of him; that the first thing Sirius hears of him is to ask after the dead boy's parents.

As the door opens, Harry emerging beside a stern and worried Dumbledore, all sense seems to fly from Sirius' mind as he rushes to greet his godson. He reaches out for him, for the boy with the mop of dark hair and the lightning bolt scar, the spitting image of his dear, wonderful, deceased best friend. With a jolt of his heart, he realises that at least he will not have to see another Potter, his family, buried this day.

"Harry, are you all right? I knew it - I knew something like this - what happened?"

And so it starts. The beginning of the second Wizarding War.