The black of the sky was leaking into daybreak when Sirius finished making good his escape from Azkaban.
With the slight sound of a watery struggle, the Animagus dragged his large, narrow form to the coast, pulling himself with claws dug into the shallow water's floor the rest of the way to the first sign of dry land he had seen in hours. Sodden, exhausted, Sirius moved from the water and sought to stand, but could only manage it for a short second - then it was into the sand he collapsed, shaggy, matted fur stretching over his skeleton like a sheet of fabric.
He's at Hogwarts.
Those alone were the words he could hear. Not words of his hunger, not of his tire, his pain…no. None of that was important.
A breadth of a whistling whine leaked from Sirius's mouth as he once more lurched slowly to his paws. He had to go to Hogwarts. He had to avenge James, speak to Remus…kill Peter bloody Pettigrew. The name alone filled him with a burning, macabre rage that could only be quenched with blood. Finally, after twelve long, agonizing years in that place, he finally had the opportunity to commit the crime of which he was accused.
He shook his black, wiry coat free of the North Sea and trotted to the crest of the nearest dune, front legs pounding with the tire of life-dependant swimming. Three times he nearly slipped on the sifting sands beneath his paws, but eventually, his pink tongue lolling in a thirsty pant, he had made it to the top, with the assistance of a few rocks here and there: he couldn't see Hogwarts from that point, naturally. But he would soon. Very soon.
Experiencing a renewed sense of youthful vigor, Sirius began his uneven loping towards the city, golde, unblinking eyes set resolutely ahead. Peter's time would come, as Sirius's had.
And when that time came, that son of a bitch was going to wish that he had really blown up after all.