Out of the Tunnel

Sirius wondered fleetingly how long it would take for him to finally cease feeling imprisoned. Certainly there were signs of his impending freedom… Since his escape from Azkaban the previous year it felt as though all his senses had been heightened. He was aware of things he certainly wouldn't have noticed to his incarceration… The sweet, dewy smell of the grass beneath them, the soft milky glow cast by the moon overhead.

Even the castle ahead of them seemed more alive. The bright flicker of lights radiating warmth and welcome.

Yet despite the beacon of hope the castle represented, Sirius continued to feel uneasy. He knew he was still, very far from being a free man.

Though the last twelve years had tonight begun to unravel, he couldn't help wondering exactly how long it would take before he would be able to make sense of it all… There was so much to uncover, so much to still do...

His eyes fell to rest on Pettigrew who was walking up ahead of him, bound firmly between Remus and the Weasley boy to prevent his escape.

He thought back to the last few hours they had spent together in the shrieking shack. The fierce loss and betrayal that had gripped him upon seeing Pettigrew's rattish face again. The injustice of his twelve years' wrongful imprisonment cast into clear light by the reappearance of the man who had brought it all about.

How had such an insignificant fool as Peter Pettigrew been capable of such enormous devastation?

It eased his mind slightly to blame Peter for the events of Halloween, 1981. It had been easy for him to rage at the rat earlier, vent some of the frustrations that had festered inside him for over a decade.

Hatred was always easier to feel than what was hidden beneath it...

Sirius felt a heavy, bitter weight in his stomach as he continued to watch the party moving ahead of him.

No. He knew why he was still trapped in his head. Why he was still not free of that prison, more pernicious even than that of Azkaban.

While blaming Peter was easy, it was not true. Because in actual fact, the events of the night of October 31st 1981 had been entirely Sirius' doing…

He'd had twelve years to suffer the torture of his mistake, and it gave him no more pleasure to relive it now. But, like a buoy, the memory sprung to the surface of his mind of its own accord...

It had been a cold Autumn night in Godric's Hollow when he'd made the decision that would chance the course of all of their lives. He'd been sitting in Lily and James' front room. A warm fire blazing in the hearth as he bounced one-year-old Harry on his knee.

He'd turned to face his friends, uncharacteristically serious. "I'm getting worried," he said, finally giving voice to the concerns that had plagued him for months. "I've been hearing things out there. Rumours. Voldemort knows there's a secret keeper. It's only a matter of time before he tracks me down."

"We trust you, Padfoot." Lily had said with soft conviction. Her affection for him writ firmly across her face. "We know you'd never give away our whereabouts."

She was right. He wouldn't. He'd die before he'd betray them. But he knew the way death eaters' minds worked… The clever ways they had of getting people to do exactly as they wanted…

"It's too simple," he said, his sharp mind forming a plan of its own accord. "Voldemort will know I'm your secret keeper. You've got to choose someone else."

"We don't trust anyone else as much as we trust you," James had said, his features so earnest, his conviction so strong… "We all know there's a spy in the order. The only thing we know for sure is it's not you."

He was right… Sirius had spent his entire adult life, and most of his childhood, fighting pure blood mania. He, out of all the marauders, had shown his dedication to the cause in the fiercest, most painful way.

But Voldemort would have known this too… He was clever. He was cunning. And having recruited Bellatrix to join him, he would know all about Sirius by now. His fierce loyalty to his friends. His stubborn determinedness to do what was right...

He did some quick calculating. "It's a pay off," he said. "Stick with me as secret keeper, high risk of being captured, medium risk of him getting the info." Though he would rather die than give the Potters' whereabouts away, he still couldn't say for sure he wouldn't crack under torture. What if they force fed him veritaserum? What if they brought in Remus and Peter - forced him to choose?

"But…" He went on. "Switch to Pettigrew as secret keeper… High risk of getting the info" (they all knew Peter was hopeless under duress) "but low risk of capture. It's logic. And you can't argue with logic, Prongs…"

And that had been that. His fierce determination and conviction of the loyalty of his friends had in fact been all of their downfall. For James and Lily had accepted the proposal. They'd made Pettigrew their secret keeper the very next day. And the day after that…

Sirius shuddered as he remembered the scene. He'd gone to Pettigrew's house that night. He hadn't heard from him in a while and wanted to check all was as it should be. He remembered the sick panic he'd felt as he found the place empty. And then, later, the grief. The hopeless, overwhelming, all encompassing grief. When he realised what Peter had done. What he had done.

And that grief threatened to choke him anew, as the the memory continued to swim in his head like a vicious shark. How hopeless he had felt, how horribly, painfully guilty…

He forced his mind back to the present with considerable effort. No, he had to stay positive. He couldn't afford to lose himself in the cracks of his mind again. He owed it to Harry…

Harry. His godson. He felt a small surge of hope as he thought of the boy, walking up to the castle alongside him.

Of all the things that pained him the most during his wrongful imprisonment was the knowledge that he was unlikely to ever see Harry again. To watch him grow up into the strong and capable wizard he knew he would become.

He wondered if perhaps this was life giving him a second chance. The circumstances had fallen into place perfectly. Harry had even been with Peter the rat at the time Sirius had finally caught up with him.

He'd also agreed to live with Sirius once his name was cleared. He'd looked so delighted by the prospect, so thrilled by the idea, that Sirius felt that tight knot in his stomach start to loosen again.

Perhaps. Just perhaps, there was hope for him after all…

The group continued to move up the grassy bank to the castle in silence.

Crookshanks was still in the lead. His ginger bottlebrush tail swaying to and fro as he led the party. Ron, Peter and Remus went behind him. Harry was walking to his left, with Hermione moving alongside next to him.

They were so nearly there… The castle looked so inviting with its warm, flickering lights. The same hope he'd felt upon seeing the place aged eleven engulfed him again. This was it, the start of a new, pain-free life…

But as he cast his eyes away from the castle up ahead, he realised that something was wrong.

Remus had stopped moving ahead of them.

The sudden halt had drawn Ron and Peter to a standstill as well. They were both staring at Remus, Ron completely nonplussed, Peter, with fierce calculation, as his body went rigid and his eyes shifted out of focus.

Sirius had also gone stock still. As he realised, with sick horror, what it all meant.

Remus Lupin was a werewolf. A fact he and his friends had discovered in their second year of Hogwarts. Of course, to Sirius, the news that he had a werewolf for a friend had delighted him. In firm contrast to Remus' fears, he had embraced his friend all the more for the discovery.

Though despite his naive conviction that it was in fact very 'cool' to turn into a werewolf, he also knew the terrible horrors that his friend faced once a month.

The wolf bore absolutely no resemblance to the kind, caring friend he knew the other 29 days of the month. It was a vicious, bloodthirsty monster and would attack any human prey it could get its paws on.

The compassion he felt for Remus upon realising this had overwhelmed him completely. He had seen first hand the terrible cuts and bruises the wolf inflicted on itself once a month, and vowed to do all he could to help his friend.

That was what had been the driving force behind their becoming animagi in their fifth year. As a dog and deer, Sirius and James had been able to keep Remus in check once a month, and allowed him to regain a sense of himself, however fleeting.

But James was not here. And their monthly excursions had only ever been the four of them. With human prey so tantalisingly close, he knew there was no hope of Remus' safety.

The whole party was staring now, as Remus began to shake and convulse. Ron had managed to free himself from the ropes that bound him, and was staring up at the man, his face twisted in a mixture of pain and horror.

Hermione had a hand clapped over her mouth and was gripping Harry's shoulder. Harry was gaping at Remus, completely captivated but seemingly unable to speak.

Sirius' eyes found Peter. There was a beady, calculating look in his eye as he fought to free himself from the robes that bound him and Remus.

He knew he had minutes with which to act.

"Harry, your wand!" He shouted, catching it deftly as Harry through it across.

"Immobilus!" He shouted at Peter, who froze, falling to the ground with a soft thud.

He felt a small relief. That was one obstacle down at least…

He turned quickly to face Harry and Hermione. "I want the two of you to take Ron and Snape up to the castle." He conjured two floating stretchers for Ron and Snape. "Go and find Dumbledore. Tell him what's happened. I'll be right there."

Harry opened his mouth to argue. "NOW!" Sirius shouted. There was no time. Remus was completely free from the ropes that had bound him and Pettigrew now. He was a fully grown werewolf. Bigger and more monstrous than Sirius had remembered him to be in their youth. As Harry, Hermione and Ron hurried across the grounds to the castle, the wolf turned to face the man in front of him.

Without pausing to think, Sirius transformed.

He had spent so long in his animagus form over the past twelve years, the transition was so smooth as to be barely noticeable.

He turned his dog's head up to face the wolf in front of him. Moony was pawing the ground menacingly, amber eyes locked fiercely upon Sirius' grey ones.

Despite the seriousness of the situation he was in, he couldn't help feeling a small stab of nostalgia wash over him. How many nights they them had spent in the Hogwarts grounds together, exploring the forbidden forest, discovering hidden passageways… Play fighting and rolling around together. The familiarity of the wolf in front of him and the fierce affection for him cut through Sirius like a knife.

But he mustn't make the mistake of thinking Remus would recognise him in turn. The wolf's mind was far less rational than the dog's. And with the scent of humans still so close in the air, he knew it would had no agenda other than to feed.

The animals stared at each other a while longer, Sirius' heart still pounding fiercely in his chest.

He stood, stock still, and waited for the wolf to pounce.

But the wolf didn't pounce. Instead, it turned its head away from Sirius and began to move.

A ripple of relief washed over him. Perhaps it had decided not to attack after all…

But the feeling didn't last long. Relief quickly changed to horror as he realised where Moony was heading.

There was a body. Lying immobilised on the floor, a few feet away from them.

Peter.

And with sick, twisting guilt, Sirius understood. He had asked Harry to take only Ron and Snape to the castle. He had chosen to leave Peter. He'd done it on purpose...

As a young man, Sirius had often been accused of acting thoughtlessly, sometimes cruelly. He was driven by his impulses more than anything else, his arrogance not allowing him the chance to consider that he might be mistaken in them.

While most of his impulses were harmless; the odd insensitive comment here, the joke that went too far there, he knew there was a darker streak in him. He had grown up in a household where cruelty was the norm, and despite his best efforts, he still found himself sucked back into learned behaviours on occasion.

For example there had been the incident with Snape and Remus in his sixth year… The dark hatred that overcame him as he told Snape how to get past the willow that would lead him to the fully transformed werewolf. He had shown no empathy for the other boy as he'd given the instructions so casually. No empathy for Remus, as he failed to think through the actions that would have certainly led to his friend's expulsion and possibly execution. He had been thinking of nothing but himself. And his ardent desire to rid himself of the fierce hatred burning inside him.

And, he realised as he watched the wolf move slowly towards Peter, he'd walked straight back into the trap…

His heart was beating somewhere in his throat as the wolf finally reached his quarry. This was it. Whether he had truly intended it to happen, or not, it was happening. One friend betrayed another, one friend falsely accused another, one friend killed another… That was the tattered, sorry remains of the great friendship the Marauders had once shared.

But, as he braced himself for the attack, the wolf did something that took him by complete surprise. It began to move away. Clumsily at first, but then quickly. As if it were trying to put as much distance between itself and Peter as it could.

He continued to watch in captivated horror as the wolf threw back its head. And then, it howled. A terrible, pitiful noise. Not bloodthirsty or brutal, but anguished. As if the animal was in the most terrible agony.

And then, before he realised what was happening, the wolf was running. Running as fast as its hind legs could carry it in the opposite direction. Away, towards the forest.

Sirius watched as the blurred outline of it became more and more faded, the deathly silence ringing in his ears as it went.

He transformed back into a man and took a step towards Pettigrew on shaking legs. He felt weak and dizzy. His stomach was churning horribly.

Pettigrew was still lying, immobilised, in the same spot Sirius had stunned him earlier. He looked down at his old friend, hatred and anger coursing through his body as he did so.

The man's pointed face had been frozen in an expression of desperation. His blonde hair patched and tufty. His eyes were small and glassy, but there was a horror that filled them. A horror that told Sirius that, despite his immobilisation, Peter had been conscious during the whole ordeal.

He reached out with his foot and kicked the man hard in the jaw. A small release for some of the furious frustration that welled up inside him. Anger at himself. For being so horribly, thoughtlessly stupid...

And then, not wanting to face the traitor any longer, he turned on his heel and made his way shakily up to the castle, to Harry, to Dumbledore, and to freedom.