Prologue
The black dog called Padfoot ran through the moon-lit forest; looming oak, maple, and holly trees cast gaunt caricatures along the earthen floor. He ran with great haste past the silent sentinels, pink tongue lolling from a slathered, bloody muzzle. The scent of a young fawn filled the beast's nostrils, and his ears pricked up and the dark hackles on his back stood on end. Faster now, Padfoot! Stay the course, the man thought; the beast obeyed. Muscle and sinew worked to breaking as Padfoot pushed himself to run harder, longer. I must reach Godric's Hollow. There is a foul stink to the air, and James and Lily are dead, he swore, and the thought caused his vision to redden and tunnel. A protruding root entered the dog's vision too late, and his front paw caught, twisted, and a sickening crunch filled the dark forest, followed by the agonizing screams of Sirius Orion Black, blood-traitor to his Noble and Most Ancient House, lying prostrate on the hard-packed earth, broken and bloody.
Sirius moved slowly to sit upright, and peered at his wrist with disdain. Blood flowed from the wound, staining the skin scarlet; a stark contrast to the white bone which gleamed like pearl in the moonlight. Sirius took his broken wrist delicately with his other hand. Pain shot up his arm, and Sirius wailed oaths and swears, and beat the ground with his feet. Sirius reached into his pocket and produced his wand. Placing the tip on his mangled wrist, Sirius invoked the incantation, "Ferula!"
The body of the broken wizard wracked with convulsions as the bones in his wrist moved and relocated themselves. Jagged, torn skin knitted itself together and soft, white bandages which came from nowhere wrapped around Sirius's wrist. Despite the spell, his wrist was still very weak; the charms splinting and binding the broken wrist and mending the skin, but shattered bones take time to heal. Padfoot would be of no use to anyone this night. Sirius attempted to move his wrist, but the pain was too great, so, after carefully removing his jacket, ripped the garment into strips and quickly fashioned a sling before standing to take in the surroundings. He cursed his human eyes for their inability to see in through the creeping dark, but he could no longer run freely on four legs. The wind blew through the trees, and Sirius thought the chittering of the leaves sounded like Nature's soft laughter, mocking his dead friends, the broken wrist, and his motorcycle which had simply disappeared.
It must be at least ten miles to Godric's Hollow, and Albus said apparating is too dangerous. I can't run there on two legs. Bugger the old man. Harry must be made safe.
He pictured his best friend's home and felt space itself bend and fold around him, and suddenly Sirius was standing in front of the house, and at once he was sick. There was no mistaking the odor of ozone and sulfur the came with the use of dark magic. He pulled his wand from pocket, and the wood felt very heavy in his hand and he crept toward the entrance. The door had been blown off the hinges so only a black hole remained. Somehow, to Sirius, it appeared darker inside the house. The wizard squared his shoulders, aimed his wand, and broke the surface of the darkness.
Inside the house, Sirius could smell pine needles, birch wood, and sickly-sweet flowers mixed with the metallic odor of blood. "Is anyone there?," Sirius whispered. A creak in the floor made Sirius start before a black-clawed hand covered his mouth and pulled him into a death embrace. He felt cold, jagged glass at his throat and the chittering of the leaves in the trees when suddenly, "Avada Kedavra!" A black blade flashed in Sirius's peripheral vision and first his eye felt cold, then his gaze reddened, and the slight weight of his attacker fell away.
Such a little thing, Sirius thought as his eyes pierced the unmoving mass on the floor. His attacker had nut-brown skin dappled here and there with white spots, like that of a deer, on which a cuirass made of bark hung loosely. The creature had four-fingers, each of which was tipped with a glistening black talon. Sirius also took note of large, out-turned ears and great, open eyes with yellow pupils like a cat's, vertically slit and cold, calculating, intelligent, Sirius finished. An obsidian dagger was clutched in one taloned hand, with runes unknown to Sirius carved on blade and hilt.
Sirius put his fingers to his brow and they came away red. The wizard cursed silently and turned to face his savior. Before him stood a slight, dark figure, with the gaunt, sallow face and greasy black hair of Severus Snape.
"Thank you, Sni- Severus. You saved my life," Sirius said, and met the other man's eyes, and saw not anger from Sirius's half-use of Snape's boyhood nickname, but an empty sorrow.
"There's no crying," Snape's voice broke on the last word; letting it hang in the air. Realization broke on Sirius's face, and he sprinted up the stairs, ignoring the pain coursing through his body from long miles on four legs. At the top of the stairs, at the end of the hallway, lay his best friend and brother, James, eyes open and staring at nothing. There was silence coming from the open doorway near James's body, and crossing the threshold, Sirius, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, collapsed to his knees, and tears came streaming down his blood-stained face.
