Padfoot's Perceptions

DISCLAIMER: This retelling of 'Chapter Seventeen—Cat, Rat, and Dog,' of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is told through Sirius Black's point of view. His thoughts and feelings, not Harry Potter's, dominate the chapter. Most quotes used are Rowling's from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, printed in 1999. Things like descriptions, Sirius' thoughts and so on, however, originate from Alda Rethe's mind, who would be a fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if only she weren't a Muggle.

Resting his great head against his paws, Sirius Black stared up the slope of the low earthy tunnel through the twisted roots and at the colorful dimness of twilight. His shaggy black tail twitched now and again against the dirt floor as he waited for Crookshanks to reappear.

Usually Sirius preferred the peaceful darkness of the depths of the Forbidden Forest—supposedly dangerous beasts lurked there, werewolves, unicorns, centaurs and such, but these creatures posed no threat to an enormous woolly black dog the size of a brown bear. He'd rather be glimpsed by a centaur in the forest who'd have no suspicions concerning his presence than the groundskeeper or a student who would undoubtedly question a dog being on the premises. Even Sirius remembered from his days at Hogwarts that dogs weren't allowed as pets at school; only owls, cats, or toads.

But rats? Oh no, they don't care at all if you bring a cursed rat to Hogwarts…

He heaved an impatient sigh that made the dust dance around him. It was fortuitous that he had happened upon Crookshanks earlier this year and that he and the cat had formed a sort of alliance. But like all felines Crookshanks had proved extremely independent and willful—vanishing for hours at a time when Sirius had asked him to do a simple thing, like check up on Wormtail's location.

Of course, Crookshanks had unhappily informed him that the rodent had slyly faked his own death sometime in February, once he knew Sirius was loose and after him (Sirius had attempted twice to enter the Gryffindor Common Room and snatch Wormtail but to no avail), so neither had seen hide nor hair of him for ages. This had been very off-putting news for the both of them. Crookshanks wasn't only ashamed that the rat had disappeared under his very own squashed button nose, but that the stinker had framed him for his demise. A personal vendetta now tied Crookshanks to Wormtail on top of his pledge to help Sirius find the rodent.

Sirius was after his former friend for darker reasons. Knowing only too late that Wormtail ("poor pathetic Peter Pettigrew" to every one else) had worked for Voldemort and betrayed his trust and friendship, as well as that of Lily and James Potter, resulting in their deaths, Sirius had gone after him thirteen years ago. He, Peter, James, and Remus Lupin, had all been good friends at Hogwarts many years ago, but weak Peter had somehow been lured by the Dark Lord's powers and had served him as a spy. When Sirius had tracked Peter down to confront him on his treachery those many years ago, Peter had slipped through his grasp and, as was his modus operandi, faked his own death, killing twelve Muggles in the process and framing Sirius for the thirteen deaths total. Peter had escaped, fleeing in the shape of a rat, his Animagus form. Sirius had been sent unceremoniously to Azkaban, the wizard's prison, without a trial, left there to rot for the past twelve years. It wasn't until the past summer that Sirius had learned that Peter was still alive (and hadn't died from some rat disease like Sirius had fervently prayed for every day). That miserable excuse for a wizard had been adopted by a wizard family. Ignorant to the fact that he was an Animagus and not a true rat, they named him Scabbers and gave him to one of their sons, Ron Weasley, who went to Hogwarts with Harry Potter, Lily and James' only son. The two were, in fact, best friends. Peter was positioned perfectly at Hogwarts, ready to spring into action and attack young Harry if Voldemort ever rose in power again.

As James Potter's best friend and Harry's godfather, Sirius felt duty bound to break out of Azkaban and put a permanent end to Peter's schemes and duplicity once and for all. That way his protégé would be altogether safer and Sirius would have committed the crime he was jailed for—the murder of Peter Pettigrew.

The muted padding of minute paws and a small cascade of dirt and pebbles from the entrance of the tunnel made Sirius lift his head. Crookshanks sprang lightly down, stopping directly before Sirius. His yellow eyes were bright in his grumpy squished face—he had good news.

"You found him?" Sirius guessed, instantly alert. It came out as a low woof, but Crookshanks understood him. The cat meowed in affirmative.

Sirius was up on his four paws at once, his shaggy shoulders and head skimming the tunnel's low-hanging ceiling. "Where?" he barked as clumps of soil fell into his fur.

Crookshanks communicated to him that Wormtail had hidden for the past few months in Hagrid's hut and that Hermione, Harry's friend and Crookshank's owner, had just discovered him in a milk jug. Nobody but Sirius and Crookshanks were aware that "Scabbers" was anything more than an old rat—Ron was entirely delighted to have his pet back. Harry, Hermione, and Ron, with Pettigrew in tow, were currently leaving Hagrid's hut.

Now was his chance.

Sensing Sirius' plan, Crookshanks exited the tunnel. Sirius followed quietly, his paws thumping softly. He was about as comfortable in the shape of a dog as he was in the shape of a human. The sublime eyesight, hearing and sense of smell that canines possess were definite bonuses. The hair, tail, paws and fleas, however, didn't make much of a difference to him—dementors had a lesser effect on him when he transformed so he tolerated these alterations. Thinking about Azkaban's spine-chilling and shuddersome guards gave Sirius an queasy feeling. He redirected his thoughts to the present.

Crouching in the grass at the base of the Whomping Willow, Sirius was hidden by the tree's roots and the growing darkness of nighttime. He watched Crookshanks slink forward, away from the tree and towards the hut, but could not see his godson or his friends. Sirius could, however, hear the hollers of Hagrid, the groundskeeper, as he rejoiced or mourned something. And then his sensitive ears caught the closer sounds of three pairs of feet, two voices, and the frantic squeaking of a certain rat.

"Scabbers—NO!"

A rat suddenly appeared out of thin air twenty yards away, scampering across the grounds. Sirius jumped up from his spot and a boy materialized where the rat had just been, running after the rodent. Crookshanks streaked towards Scabbers and two more figures abruptly emerged out of nowhere, sprinting after Ron, who had captured his rat. One of them, the girl, Hermione, was begging for him to return under the Invisibility Cloak.

Sirius bounded forward, his mind made up. The only way he could take Wormtail was to take Ron. He heard leaves and branches trembling furiously above him—the Whomping Willow had realized that it wasn't alone. He had to act fast.

Right as a branch was about to whip Harry who was standing beside a sitting Ron, Sirius leaped up and pushed Harry to the ground with his front paws, then rolled off him, returning his attention to Ron who was now standing, petrified, with the trembling lump of rat in his pocket. Sirius growled and sprung forward.

Apparently Ron thought the massive jet-black dog was after Harry and moved to protect him. Sirius merely changed his course slightly and locked his jaws around Ron's outstretched arm. Ron struggled madly as Sirius dragged him towards the tunnel entrance at the base of the Whomping Willow, but it made no difference what with Sirius's bulk and strength. He wished the boy wouldn't fight back, however. It would only result in the teenager getting hurt.

This proved true as Sirius tried to yank Ron down the tunnel. Harry and Hermione were too preoccupied with the Whomping Willow's violent branches to help Ron, but this didn't stop him from trying to help himself as he latched his right leg around one of the Willow's roots. Sirius growled at the boy's stupidity and regretfully yanked on his arm. It was a necessary action, he told himself. An unpleasant crack signaled the breaking of Ron's leg, and Sirius was able to tug the now whimpering but subdued Ron further down the tunnel.

Guilt filled his heart and slowed his progress through the passage. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh with Ron. He was an innocent boy after all and didn't deserve to have his leg snapped. The cruelty would probably support people's idea that Sirius was a villain. He released Ron's arm for a second, and sat on his haunches, rethinking his decision. The boy reached with his unbitten arm to his broken leg and moaned in pain. Sirius' mouth curved down in a dog-like frown. But the hysterical squeals deriving from Ron's pocket reminded him that none of this would be in vain. Crookshanks should be leading Harry and Hermione into the tunnel by now to prevent others from getting involved. Attempting to be gentle, Sirius refastened his jaw around Ron's arm and quickly pulled him along the passageway, keeping the tugging and yanking to a minimum. It hardly seemed to matter though—the boy must have passed out from the pain. Sirius was confident he would wake up once they got to the Shrieking Shack.

Dark and cramped, the passage reminded him of the countless times he, James, and Peter had raced down it to meet Remus in the Shack every full moon during their last four years at Hogwarts. The four of them had been so close, causing mischief, wrecking havoc on the Slytherins and finding adventure during those years. Sirius was quite positive that those years were the happiest of his life. There was nothing to worry about or fret over back then…dementors and Azkaban…Voldemort…traitorous friends…none of that concerned him. He could simply enjoy life with Peter, Remus, and James.

But Peter had certainly put an end to that.

The ground slowly began to elevate and Sirius dragged Ron a final few feet into the opening of the Shrieking Shack, which had last played host to visitors nearly twenty years ago. It looked exactly like Sirius remembered except for the thick layer of dust blanketing everything. The windows and doors were still boarded up unyieldingly. The furniture that wasn't broken completely or smashed altogether either held bite marks or bloodstains and the wallpaper was yellow and peeling.

Sirius had missed this place.

He hauled Ron through the dark and dusty hallway to the bottom of the staircase. Wormtail had been squealing and squeaking frenetically the entire time. Concealed in Ron's pocket, he couldn't see what was happening, but he could definitely hear the venomous snarls emitted from Sirius' throat every once in a while, which silenced his protests only briefly.

Imagining that the boy wouldn't much appreciate being heaved up the old wooden stairs, Sirius concentrated for a moment and felt himself transform back into a human. He was physically much weaker as a human than a dog and would be unable to carry Ron up the stairs, but that's what magic was for. Gratefully noting that Harry's friend had his wand stuck in his robes, Sirius retrieved it and pointing it at Ron's still form, he croaked, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The body rose slowly and Sirius guided it up the stairs, which creaked as he stepped on them. Sirius headed to the main room where Remus used to spend most of his time waiting for his three friends during full moons. He deposited Ron on the edge of the four-poster bed that used to be grand in appearance before he and Remus had decided to have multiple "Who's Claws Are the Sharpest?" contests on the four posters and hangings in their fifth year.

Sirius paused to light the room with a flick of his wand as he listened for Crookshank's arrival. Minutes passed and Peter's muffled squeaks resumed as Ron awoke. Sirius watched his expression change from confusion about the setting to agony concerning his leg and finally fright as his gaze settled on Sirius' dirty and grim appearance.

Knowing quite well that his time in Azkaban had greatly altered his once handsome exterior, Sirius imagined that he looked terrifying. Matted filthy black hair to his elbows, waxy skin, a gaunt frame and sunken eyes—all effects of Azkaban—made Sirius look like the madman and murderer he was assumed to be.

Ron could only gape at him.

Crookshanks abruptly arrived, jumping nimbly onto the bed to curl contently besides Ron who moaned slightly as Crookshanks' tail grazed his injured leg. Hermione and Harry would soon arrive.

Anxious to explain everything to his godson, clear his name, and set things straight, Sirius strode behind the door to wait. The wooden floor creaked. Ron's horrified gaze never left him, even as Sirius stared coolly back.

He supposed for a second that he was making a mistake in not just seizing Wormtail now and killing him on the spot. Only the boy would witness it, but he'd only assume that Sirius was loony and habitually slaughtered rodents. Not a major loss. Then Sirius could transform back into a dog and run away, knowing Harry would be safe…but no, that wouldn't work. Harry had to know the truth about how his parents died, about Peter Pettigrew and that Sirius really hadn't betrayed Lily and James. At least, not intentionally. Harry had the right to know who his godfather was and his friend probably should know that his pet rat of twelve years wasn't really a pet.

Crookshanks began to purr as the door burst open.

Panting, Harry and Hermione rushed forward towards Ron.

"Ron—are you okay?" The girl looked very pale, in Sirius' opinion. Her voice shook too.

"Where's the dog?" It was the first time Sirius had ever heard Harry speak and he was astonished at the striking similarity between his voice and James'. At Privet Drive, he'd been close enough to study his godson, and knew Harry looked almost exactly like his father, except for the eyes and nose. But the nearly identical voice of his long deceased best friend left Sirius flummoxed momentarily.

Ron seemed to have regained some strength. "Not a dog," he groaned, his eyes still on Sirius, who had gone unseen by the newcomers, behind the door. "Harry, it's a trap—"

Harry and Hermione were confused until Ron elaborated, "He's the dog…he's an Animagus," and Sirius, shutting the door with an inadvertently loud bang, stepped forward.

"Expelliarmus!" he rasped, voice rusty from years of disuse. Hermione and Harry's wands flew out of their hands. Sirius caught them, taking a step forward, ready to start explaining. He knew he wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgewise, with an armed witch and wizard, the wizard of which's father had been a skilled dueler.

"I though you'd come and help your friend," he began slowly, addressing Harry, choosing his words carefully. "You're father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful…it will make everything easier…" A professor definitely would be harder to disarm than three students.

To his sadness but not to his surprise, Sirius saw a deep-set hate flash to life in Harry's eyes. What with Sirius' escape from Azkaban months ago, Harry had probably been informed of Sirius' supposed crimes ages ago—betraying the Potters to Voldemort, killing Pettigrew and twelve innocent Muggles…it was a wonder he hadn't inherited his father's haste and had not attacked Sirius the second he saw him, wand or not.

On second thought, it wasn't as if he didn't try. Harry moved forward, but was prevented from taking more than a few steps before Ron and Hermione grabbed him quickly on either side, restraining him.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron exclaimed, standing up, pallor claiming his face. This brave show of loyalty reminded Sirius strongly of his staunch friendship with James and he immediately warmed towards this red-haired boy. It was good Harry had such faithful friends. Sirius ignored this statement however, and told Ron to lie down to prevent any more damage to his already injured leg, nevermind the fact that he'd done the injuring.

"Did you hear me? You'll have to kill all three of us!"

"There'll only be one murder here tonight," Sirius replied, grinning as his eyes strayed to the lump in his pocket that was Peter.

These words struck a cord with Harry.

"Why's that?" He said heatedly. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew…What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

Hermione shushed him, but he refused to be silenced. "HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!"

And with that, Harry pulled free of his friend's grasps and launched himself at Sirius like a bat out of hell.

Crookshanks yowled and spat a warning, but Sirius was taken by surprise at Harry's actions, too thrown to react or raise the wands in time as his godson attacked him. Hermione gasped and screamed. Ron yelled in alarm.

Harry and Sirius fell to the floor, Harry punching wildly. Every time his fists connected with a part of Sirius it spurred him on to a second and third blow. Focusing on defense rather than offense, Sirius aimed a disarming spell at Harry that would have propelled him off and away but the spell missed Harry's face by inches. Sirius twisted violently, managing to wrap his free hand around Harry's throat—an effective method in ending the onset of punches, until a foot appeared out of nowhere, planting itself firmly on Sirius' left eye.

Immediately, he let go of Harry, pain clouding his sense of what was going on and felt a heavy weight on his wand hand, pinning his hand and the wands to the floor.

The spitting and screeching of Crookshanks could be heard along with sounds of a scuffle and the wheezing of four different people and the vague protests of a rat.

"Get out of the way!" Harry yelled, and as Ron and Hermione climbed off of him, Sirius' vision cleared only to be replaced with the bleak sight of Harry pointing his wand directly at Sirius' chest.

His hopes of explaining anything at all fell.

"Going to kill me, Harry?"

His godson, the splitting image of James Potter, took his time in replying. When he did, Sirius believed James would be proud of the way Harry faced him—the man everyone assumed wanted him dead—without fear.

"You killed my parents," stated Harry, wand still aimed at Sirius.

He didn't know how much the statement hurt Sirius.

It was true, in a sense that Sirius had killed Lily and James. He had been their Secret-Keeper, the only one who knew their location and could tell others where the couple was. A Secret-Keeper was the ultimate protection from Voldemort. Sirius would have never told anyone the site of his best friend, his best friend's wife and their baby. He would rather die than betray them. But Sirius thought he was too obvious a choice for Secret-Keeper and believed it would be much more clever to make someone like Peter the Secret-Keeper—no one would harass Peter for the vital information. So Sirius had persuaded the Potters to change their Secret Keeper in private from himself to Peter. Peter, earning his place as a rat, hardly hesitated before ratting out their location to Voldemort, who killed the Potters on Harry's first Halloween.

And all because Sirius had thought things out too much.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I don't deny it…But if you knew the whole story."

"The whole story?" parroted Harry, voice still furious. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know." Harry's hold on the wand tightened.

No! That wasn't what happened. Time and rumors had concealed the truth and Sirius was desperate to set things straight, make things right.

Starting with Ron's rat.

"You've got to listen to me," he declared, passionately. "You'll regret it if you don't…You don't understand…" The rat…Pettigrew…

Evidently Sirius was skilled at provoking Harry involuntarily.

"I understand a lot better than you think! You never heard her, did you? My mum…trying to stop Voldemort killing me…and you did that…you did it…"

Sirius shook his grime-encrusted head. He felt blood dripping from his nose but that wasn't what upset him. Lily Potter…Lily Evans before she'd married James…she had been top of her class, clever in charms and potions. James had loved her so much. Because of him, both brilliant sorcerers were deceased.

Once again, the thought that he was the reason Lily and James were gone was much worse and much more torturous than the effects of any dementor.

A ginger blur crossed Harry's wand and fastened itself to the front of Sirius' robes, perching right over his heart. It was Crookshanks, who glared up at Harry with his amber yellow eyes.

At least someone will mourn my death, Sirius thought bitterly as Harry raised his wand.

But personally he didn't blame Harry for what he was about to do. If Sirius had had parents like Harry'd been robbed of—if James and Lily had been his mother and father—he wouldn't rest a single minute until the wizard responsible for their deaths was dead himself. Wizards and witches like James and Lily Potter didn't deserve to die. Especially through the deceit of their friends.

Sirius stared from his place on the floor up at Harry, whose wand was still raised, but hadn't moved. Everyone was silent; even Wormtail's squeaks had dissolved. Ron's uneven breathing was the loudest noise in the Shack.

Until Crookshanks tilted his squashed face curiously and muffled footsteps resonated from the first floor up towards them.

Everyone froze.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione hollered, much to Sirius' horror. "WE'RE UP HERE—SIRIUS BLACK—QUICK!"

Out of the many things Sirius had wanted to avoid, it was this, contact with more people than necessary, possibly a professor, which would undoubtedly result in his return to Azkaban, back to the everlastingly cold dementors.

The footfalls were hastily climbing the stairs and Sirius' gaze skipped from Harry's wand, still pointed at him, to Wormtail's hiding place and back. It would be entirely impossible and nonsensical to risk anything now. Yet, on second thought, he'd waited for this moment for more that twelve years. It would almost be sinful to let the opportunity sidestep him…

In a torrent of red sparks, the door flew open revealing a much older and much paler Remus Lupin. Another old friend—apparently this was a reunion of Marauders, excluding James. This wasn't comforting news, however. Sirius was certain that everyone in the wizarding world thought he was guilty of murdering Pettigrew. Would Remus believe him if he tried to explain himself?

Or would he, like Harry, not even give him a chance?

Lupin surveyed the entire scene in a single sweeping glance, from Ron and his oddly angled leg to Harry's wand sited in on Sirius and Crookshanks. Lifting up his own wand, Lupin yelled, "Expelliarmus!" and Harry's wand shot safely out of his hand and the two wands Hermione had taken from Sirius in the earlier fray flew from her hold.

Harry looked defenseless and discouraged without his wand.

Sirius studied Lupin warily who asked in an extremely apprehensive voice, "Where is he, Sirius?"

Relief flooded through Sirius and he was able to breathe properly. Remus was never one for hasty dealings. His analytical mind liked to sort everything out before making a decision and Sirius could see that his friend planned on sorting out the truth of what happened thirteen years ago before doing anything.

Sirius pointed directly at Ron, who's pocket hadn't uttered a peep since Remus' entrance.

Forehead creased, Remus was thinking very hard. "But then…why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—unless he was the one…unless you switched…without telling me?"

Sirius nodded once.

No one had known that the Potters had changed their Secret-Keeper at the last moment. They hadn't told Remus for cautionary reasons—it was possible he was Voldemort's spy. No one suspected little Peter Pettigrew until it was too late.

"Professor what's going on—?" Harry began only to lose his voice when Lupin walked up to Sirius, wand lowered, and took his hand, helping him to his feet. Crookshanks jumped out of the way as Lupin hugged Sirius like they were long-lost kin.

Harry, Hermione and Ron gawked at them.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" shrieked Hermione suddenly, pointing wide-eyed and furious at Lupin.

"—You and him!" she yelped, "I didn't tell anyone! I've been covering up for you--"

Sirius had an ominous feeling that he knew where this conversation was headed.

"Hermione, listen to me please! I can explain—" Remus started.

But Harry turned against him too.

"I trusted you and all the time you've been his friend," Harry exclaimed in a shaking voice.

"You're wrong," Remus began once again, "I haven't been Sirius' friend but I am now—Let me explain…"

"NO! Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle," Hermione screamed and Sirius couldn't help but notice how the three of them were talking as if he weren't in the same room as them. She continued, "he wants you dead too—he's a werewolf!"

Being the only two people in the room with whom this came as a surprise to, Ron and Harry shared identical looks of incredulity.

Sirius knew that Lupin was used to this look, however. He had described the raised eyebrows, wide mistrustful eyes, and suddenly frightened postures to Sirius, James, and Peter years ago during his first few experiences job hunting. Remus knew how to conceal his forlornness by now.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead…But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

It was no use, however. After this brave confession it was clear that Harry and Ron didn't trust their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor any more.

Having never quite possessed a very clear sense of danger, Sirius had never seen what the big fuss was with Remus being a werewolf. So he becomes a monster once a month on every full moon? Sirius knew of alcoholics who attacked and scratched innocent people in a drunken stupor every other day. Both weren't very nice, but who received the worse reputation? The unlucky fellow who had the misfortune to be bitten and changed unwillingly into a beast once a month, that's who.

Lupin and Hermione were now talking about how Hermione had discovered his secret. This aggravated Sirius and so he tuned them out. His main priority was getting rid of Peter Pettigrew, not discussing Lupin's "furry little problem." Incredibly thankful though he was for Lupin's trust and judgment, Sirius couldn't help feel a tad bit intolerant to the explanations Remus was kindly providing the three children. Of course they all had a right to know, especially Harry, but must they be informed now? First kill the double agent and then clarify things later, was Sirius's way of thinking. He could almost see the plans and escape schemes being shaped and edited in Peter's shrewd mind as the seconds ticked by. If any of those ploys succeeded and Peter slipped through Sirius' grasp a final time, Harry would be as good as dead. Once Peter returned to Voldemort, lending him assistance and vigor, little could be done to prevent the Dark Lord from returning in full force once more. Muggles and wizards alike would die.

And there wouldn't be just thirteen innocent deaths.

Plagued with this distressing state of mind, Sirius moved to seat himself more comfortably on the four-poster bed, covering his face with a hand. Completely out of the blue, Harry shouted, "AND HE WAS WRONG! YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"

Looking up, Sirius was significantly startled to find his godson pointing an accusing finger at him once again. Lupin watched Harry with a mixed look of pity and frustration on his face. Apparently nothing of what he'd said had sunken in yet.

"I have not been helping Sirius. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look—"

Before Sirius could croak that it probably wasn't an intelligent idea to give irrational and ignorant thirteen-year-olds weapons, Remus had tossed Ron, Hermione, and Harry all back their wands. Only Remus would think that this proved something.

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry declared, giving Sirius another death glare, but seeming to believe Lupin's sincerity, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map. The Marauder's Map," replied Lupin. "I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work it?"

"Of course I know how to work it. I helped write it—"

Sirius wasn't listening anymore. He felt like growling. Another long and detailed explanation. Great. Exactly what he needed in a time when every second meant the difference between victory and defeat at accomplishing his prolonged goal. Realizing that Crookshanks had crept onto his lap minutes ago, Sirius stroked the cat's ginger head in an attempt to relax himself and maintain what little of his patience that hadn't been depleted in the past thirteen years.

Harry was very much like his father, he decided. Of course, Harry hadn't met his godfather under the very best circumstances, but Sirius watched as whatever Remus was saying either made sense or contradicted Harry's understanding of things. Harry portrayed his confusion, disbelief, and defiance correspondingly the way had James had in certain situations. Sirius knew for a fact that had he, not Ron, been the one being dragged like an old shoe by a dog down a mysterious tunnel, James, like Harry, wouldn't have hesitated an iota of a second before following.

It was a promising thought.

Frenzied squeaks stirred Sirius from his contemplation. Crookshanks hissed as Ron slowly retrieved "Scabbers the rat" from his pocket. Sirius' breath caught in his throat as he stared at the creature liable for his years of isolation and misery in Azkaban; the one responsible for Lily and James Potter's deaths. The reason Harry was an orphan living with his severe Muggle relatives and the reason Sirius was believed to be a mass murderer was a few feet before him, held up by his balding pink tail.

"What?" Ron nervously asked, in response to something Remus had said, "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Sirius rasped quickly. Ron's gaze flickered briefly towards Sirius' suddenly demented look and then back at Remus searching for reassurance.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," Remus whispered, with the air of one revealing a terrible secret. "He's a wizard." Harry, Ron, and Hermione gave him a blank look. Sirius knew that now, finally, was his opportunity to clear everything—his name, his conscience, his soul.

"An Animagus," Sirius clarified, eyes blazing, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

And he would be dying tonight if Sirius had anything to do with it.