Many years ago, I wrote The Visitor. I loved it very much, but it wasn't very good. Now it has been rewritten. I can only hope it's at least slightly better.
Some warnings for death, swearing and weird English.
I.
The first time the voice reached him, was when he had been imprisoned for a long time already. He had no idea how long exactly. Every day felt like an eternity and the uncertain seasons were no help. There were autumns and winters and short-lived springs bringing raging storms interspersed with teasing hints of warmth. There were no summers. Mostly it was miserably cold and wet, rain and hail forever trading places to pelt the outer walls. They sneaked through the narrow window to seep down the wall and soak his bedding. Even then, having his cot against the back wall was better than having it closer to the bars. It might be relatively dry and closer to the torches lining the hallway, but the Dementors that frequently passed by were a powerful deterrent. The few extra feet separating them was a paltry protection, but even that was better than nothing. His fur could protect him against the worst of the elements, anyway.
His ears perked up when he heard the voice again and he shed his fur without hesitation. If there were Aurors coming through the hallway, he could ask them the date. They ignored him more often than not, but anything was better than just slumping in a dank corner and giving up. Determined he struggled up from his cot and hissed when his bare feet touched the floor. He searched his bed for the rags he used to tie around his feet – his paws never needed them. He faltered, however, when the voice became clearer. It wasn't an Auror. It sounded like a child. But that couldn't be, of course. Sirius growled angrily at himself, though his human throat was not really suitable for the sound. It wasn't the first time he heard voices, but normally it was when the Dementors were around. And never when he was in his dog form. Was he really going crazy, then? Was this then the moment he finally lost what was left of his mind?
The child was singing, accompanied by clapping. The sharp sounds echoed through the stone hallway until they seemed to come from all sides. The child's high voice caused shivers to go down Sirius' spine.
"…fat ones, skinny ones, oochy goochy gooey ones, see how they squiggle and squirm.
First you bite off their heads and you suck out the juice and you throw the skins-"
Both the singing and the clapping abruptly cut off. Sirius could hear other prisoners stirring in their cells. A couple of cells down, somebody started muttering under their breath. On the floor beneath them, a scream started and faded away again. Sirius relaxed and finished binding his feet. Then the voice started up again.
"Mister, mister," the child almost sang, "I dreamt a cat today. She was the prettiest cat of all. Her fur was all wet and dark and she had so many pretty ribs." The voice lowered conspiratorially.
"I think she was very very hungry, mister. I remember it. I wanted to feed her, but she didn't have a mouth anymore. Are you not hungry?"
There was a soft scraping sound, like something sliding over the rough stone floor. The muttering of the other prisoner grew steadily louder, until it changed into shouting and drowned out any other possible sound. Sirius huddled into his corner and tried to forget he ever heard anything.
II.
He was often pacing for hours in his cell. It took him ten steps to go around. Three for the long walls, two for the short. But that was when he had been healthy. It was a lot more steps lately.
He still did it anyway, laboriously walking along the circumference again and again. He only stopped when his vision started to dim with exhaustion or a Dementor passed by. Then he hid beneath his fur until they were gone and he could start walking again. He had to keep his body in working order. Stay sane, he thought and took another step. Get out, step, kill the rat, step. Stay sane-
His mantra was interrupted when the clang of a door slammed shut reverberated through the space. Sirius waited intently for something else to happen so he would know what to do – either the booted footsteps of Aurors or the creeping despair that preceded Dementors. The Dementors had been behaving weirdly lately, both more absent and more hungry. Almost every time they went past, they carried with them one or more de-souled prisoners. Sirius had recognized a few of them as convicted Death Eaters. Maybe, under different circumstances, he could've felt satisfaction over their demise. As it was, it only filled him with unease. Anything that changed the behavior of the infernal guards could only bad news. The sporadic Aurors that visited the prison acted no different, however. Most likely they were not even aware of the change. Incompetent assholes.
It wasn't a pair of Aurors that had entered the hallway, however, nor a Dementor. Instead, it was once again the voice of a child that reached his ears. It was too faint to make out any words. Almost against his will Sirius stumbled to his door. If he could just see there was nothing in the hall, maybe he could also convince his fracturing mind. He curled his fingers around the metal bars. For a second he was distracted by the view of his hands - so thin and bony where before they had been strong and sure – but then he shook his head angrily and tried to peer into the hallway. If he pressed his head against the icy cold iron he could just about see three cells down. He could hear fragments of sentences now, meaningless without context but unnerving him all the same.
". . . -ty lady . . . spider I killed . . . burned . . ."
In the cell diagonal of his, the inhabitant had also gotten to his door. For a moment their eyes met. He could also hear the voice, Sirius thought and shivered. Then the other prisoner spat at him and turned away. Stupid, Sirius berated himself. It was just a coincidence.
The child was laughing.
Sirius watched as the man slumped down on the floor against the bars. His pale skin flashed in the flickering light as he raised his hands and started scratching at the stones. His fingers were already dark with dried blood. Sirius unclenched his frozen hands from the bars and headed back to his cot. The child's voice faded again to a barely heard murmur. It melted together with the scratching and the sound of the ceaseless waves outside the walls into a buzz that successfully lulled Sirius to sleep.
III.
It was not the last time he heard the child. The voice came sporadically and without warning, often faint and indecipherable, sometimes so clear it seemed to come from his own cell. Once, Sirius was woken by a whisper directly into his ear. When he opened his eyes, he was the only one there.
He started hearing whispers in the washing of the waves, the whining of the wind. The voice threaded through his nightmares, framing them with haunting whispers. The increasing absence of the Dementors was a small consolation when he was so very clearly going out of his mind. He spent most of his time in his dog form, trying to barricade himself against the madness. It was easier like that, easier to ignore the voice and concentrate on his own survival. His nightmares became indistinct and forgettable. The man only came out when he heard Aurors in the prison, both to protect his secret and to remind himself of what he really was. He would practice talking and walking on two legs until it once again became too much to handle and he had to retreat. In that manner he could manage to survive the innumerable string of days, biding his time until he would be able to escape and achieve his vengeance. He could force himself to eat, where others gave up and succumbed.
Stay sane, get out, kill the rat.
IV.
The dog perked up from where he lay on the cot. For a moment he thought he heard Aurors, but then he slumped back down. It was the child voice, singing again. The voice was gaining volume as it steadily came closer. Sometimes it was obscured by other noises; the screaming of the mad prisoners, the clanging, the moaning of the wind through the building. Every time it came back stronger, until Sirius could clearly make out the words.
"-hmmhm in a hmhm sheet. Hmhmm hmm.
"And the worms crawl in and the worms crawl out,
In your belly and out your snout,
And your eyes fall out and hmmhm hm –
And that is the end of a perfect day.
Hmm hmhmmm-"
Sirius huffed and laid his head on his paws, absently staring at the hallway through the bars. The torch beside his door was flickering and weak, throwing irregular patterns on the walls.
There were eyes peering out at him through the gloom.
Sirius stared back stupidly, unable to process finally having an image to go with the voice. A hallucination, of course. He crawled forward on his belly, whining. The apparition also leaned forward, bringing his pale face more clearly into the straggling light. There was something about that face…
"Doggy," the boy said. The dog whined again and sniffed the air. Salt and mold, the pervading foulness of the Dementors, the bucket in the corner. And very, very faintly, something that evoked old memories of warmth. It quickly escaped his senses however, though he desperately tried to chase it. He could only smell the prison and himself.
The boy was still staring at him solemnly. "Doggy," he said, "I forgot the rest of the words."
Words, the dog huffed. He didn't have any words, not like this. That was okay. He had nothing to say to a hallucination. He turned around and padded to his bedding, determined to ignore everything. After a pause the humming started again.
"Hmhmhmmhm when a hearse goes by, you will be the first to die. Hmmmhm in a hmmhm sheet. Hmmhmmm." There was a deep sigh. "How boring, doggy. Boggy doggy." A short silence before he started to sing again.
"Boggy little doggy tries to sleep, on his boggy little cot. He has no friends, though once he had a few. Now he's left all alone and only fit for stew."
The boy giggled. The dog tried to hide his head under his paw. Ignore him. Stay sane, stay sane, stay sane. Stay sane, get out, kill the rat. To kill the rat you have to get out. To get out you have to stay sane. There are no children in Azkaban. You are the only one here.
When he looked up again, the boy was in his cell. He was standing right in front of the solid iron bars, just outside of the moonlight pooling on the cell floor. He looked very real. The dog very carefully got up from his cot, then jerked when the sound of heavy boots reached him. Aurors. The boy turned his face to the hallway and cocked his head. His eyes glittered, half hidden underneath his messy mop of hair. Once again a memory tried to spark. It was so close the dog could almost taste it. It was useless, though. This body, this haven, protected him both against the influence of the Dementors and against the nightmarish images of his past. It did not rely as much on sight as his human form did. With mixed feelings he watched the apparition move away from the hallway and melt into the shadows. The footsteps were rapidly approaching his cell and the dog quickly abandoned his form.
The man that was left behind shivered in the cold and struggled to his feet. Better to stand, though he didn't always remember why. Better to stand than to kneel. The two Aurors reached the cell he was in and walked past without so much as a sideways glance. Between them was a shackled convict.
"Hey!" he called. When the footsteps continued unabated he rattled the lock to his cell. "Hey! What's the date?"
The steps stopped. One of the Aurors walked back so Sirius could see him through the bars. He tried to smile winningly, prompting the Auror to deepen his scowl. Admittedly, he was a little out of practice.
"Shut up, prisoner," the Auror barked and stepped closer. In his eyes Sirius could see the barely restrained panic at being near the Dementors, even if they were not currently in the hallway. He couldn't sympathize. All his sympathy had long since dried up. All the same, he held up his hands and tried to look non-threatening.
"I just want to know the date, man."
The Auror mulled this over a moment and then spat out "October 26th."
"And the year?" he prodded.
"1988," the Auror said and then abruptly turned around and left. Sirius staggered to his cot and slumped down. Almost seven years already… So many years wasted away in this hellhole. Stay sane, he reminded himself. You still have to get your revenge. One day, you will escape, find the traitor, and kill him for what he did to James and Lily. You are Sirius Black and you will have your revenge. You just have to stay sane.
V.
He blinked open his eyes, not remembering having gone to sleep. It took him only a moment to register the creeping despair. He pulled his fur on like a shield and huddled in the corner. Already the moisture in his cell was freezing; his half-empty bucket of water, his bucket of piss and shit, the sea- and rainwater dripping from the narrow window down his wall. The torches lining the hallway sputtered and dimmed. The first Shade passed his cell soundlessly, carrying with him the soulless body of a convict. Behind him, at irregular intervals, floated a sparse line of Shades, bowls clasped in their withered hands. One of them paused to swap the empty food bowl in the dog's cell for a full one. Then it swung the door shut again and securely locked it. It stayed in front of the cell for a few long moments, seemingly contemplating the inhabitant. The dog shuddered at feeling the unseen gaze on him. After an interminable period it backed off and rejoined the queue. Eventually the macabre procession floated out of range. The flames on the torches lengthened again with a whoosh. The frost creeping on the walls started to melt with an unsteady drip, drip.
When he was sure they wouldn't return, the dog shed his fur. With a wince Sirius tried to rub some warmth into his hands. He gave up after a minute and got up to get his bowl. Distasteful as it was, he had to keep his strength. He still had too much to do to merely fade away like so many others. He sat back down on his cot and with a grimace he set the bowl at his lips and tilted it.
"Doggy."
Sirius fumbled with the bowl and slopped half of the muck all over himself. With growing dread he looked up. In the hallway, on the other side of the bars, stood the boy. His face was once again mostly hidden in the gloom, but Sirius could clearly see the displeased frown that pulled at his mouth.
"What-" he said hoarsely.
"I liked you better before," the boy interrupted him. "Why did you change?"
"What are you-" he said, before he cut himself off and clenched his eyes shut. "You are not here. I am just… talking with a delusion caused by the presence of Dementors."
"Dementors don't do that," the boy said. "They're not around anyways. They leave me alone, usually. The prisoners are much more fun that way."
Sirius opened his eyes again. The boy was still standing outside his cell. Quickly he shut his eyes, rubbed his eyelids and opened them. The boy had cocked his head.
"There are no children in Azkaban," Sirius insisted. The boy just shrugged. Sirius could feel the hysteria bubbling up his throat and firmly swallowed it down.
"You're not real. You're just some sort of phantasm."
In response the boy reached for the cell door and rattled the lock. The harsh clanging echoed a few times before it died down. Even that wouldn't have been enough to convince Sirius, had not a couple of other prisoners also began rattling their locks. Another one started screaming for them to shut up and then one started screaming just for the hell of it. All in all, it took some time before Sirius could even attempt to be heard again. All that time, he could not tear his eyes from the very real boy outside his cell, holy fuck.
"You-" he finally said. "You are real." The boy grinned at him.
"How did you get here, then," Sirius asked. "Who the fuck brought a little kid to Azkaban?"
"The Dementors, of course," the boy answered.
"They don't- Never mind. What's your name, kid?"
The boy just shrugged again.
"Okay. What… what did your parents call you?"
"They are dead."
"But you must've lived somewhere before Azkaban, with people. What did they call you?"
"They are dead, too." This time it was said with a sharp grin. "It was very very pretty. But before, they called me boy, freak, monster."
Sirius slumped on his cot and put his face in his hands. Merlin.
"The man called me angel," the boy continued. "And then they called me child, and ghost, and monster again."
"Those aren't names," he said. "Those are… things, not people. Your parents give you a name when you are born and you get their family name. Sometimes your… your friends give you a name too. A nickname." Sirius swallowed heavily. The boy waited patiently until he continued.
"My parents named me Sirius."
"Yes," the boy said. "I remember. Paddy."
Sirius looked up sharply.
The boy came closer to the bars, bringing himself fully into the light of the torch. This time the realization was immediate and undeniable.
Right on its heels was horror. He knew this boy. He knew his eyes, his face, that untamed mess of hair.
Oh Merlin, no.
No no no no nonono.
"No," he said. "No. No! He promised me. You would be safe, at least. You would have a life. He promised!" The last bit was roared out. Sirius turned around and kicked his cot, hard. Then he slumped against the wall and just breathed. When he had somewhat calmed down he turned back around. The boy – Harry – had retreated back into the shadows and was watching him warily. Shame flooded him.
"I- I'm sorry," Sirius stammered. "Harry, I am so sorry." He reached out with his hand, but immediately flinched back when the boy backed away.
"Please believe me, Harry. I am so unbelievably sorry."
Defeated he watched as the boy turned around and left.
VI.
The following days were among the most horrible Sirius had ever experienced. They didn't quite reach the horror of that fateful All Hallows' Eve, but they far surpassed the period when the fall-out with his parents happened. At least back then he had the support of his friends and a sort of surrogate family in the form of James and his parents. But now, sitting helpless and alone in his cell, knowing that Harry was also kept on the cursed island… To know that the son of the man he had considered a brother had also fallen victim to the influence of the Dementors…
It was too much to bear.
Sirius laid on his cot, unable to sleep, watching the same questions and doubt and recriminations pass before his eyes in a ceaseless parade. He should've kept the baby, that night, instead of passing him over to Hagrid. But he had trusted the half-giant and he had trusted his word that Dumbledore would take care of everything. And he had seen his chance for revenge. Unburdened by a baby, he was able to confront Pettigrew.
How stupid, how unforgivably moronic of him to still underestimate the rat. After everything that had happened. For that stupidity alone he deserved to rot. To have failed James and Lily so… He deserved every retribution the world could mete out. But not before the true traitor was punished. It was what kept him alive and kicking all these years, the knowledge that the rat was still out there living a free life while an innocent suffered in his place.
Now, though, he had a second purpose. He had to get Harry out of Azkaban. Somehow. Escaping alone had been nigh impossible. Escaping while towing along a small child… Impossible. But it had to be done.
VII.
He was jerked out of a restless half-sleep when something rattled the lock to his cell. Hardly daring to hope he opened his eyes and looked towards the bars.
Harry.
Sirius got up from his cot, careful to keep his movements slow and non-threatening. Harry didn't so much as blink at him, though he did let go of the door.
"You're back," Sirius breathed. "I didn't think-" He cut himself off. "Harry, how could you be here? In Azkaban?"
"I told you, the Dementors took me," Harry said. "You call me Harry. That's a name."
"Yes," Sirius said, trying to ignore the bottomless pit that had opened somewhere beneath his breastbone. "It's your name. Harry James Potter. Why did the Dementors take you?" Sirius took a careful step to the bars, and another when Harry didn't react. He slumped against the bars, resisting the urge to reach between them and touch Harry. Don't chase him away. "Why did the Dementors take a child? The Ministry has them under control."
"To punish me, I guess," Harry said and cocked his head. "But they didn't. They took me here and they feed me and they let me walk around. Did my parents give me that name?"
"Yes, they did. Your father, James…" Sirius had to pause for a moment before he could continue. "Harry was his grandfather's name, and he gave you his own name and his family name. They loved you so much." Sirius put his head in his hands and clenched his fingers in his hair. "This is no place for a kid," he muttered. "This is no place for anyone."
"You want to leave," Harry said. "Why."
Sirius laughed incredulously. "Why? This is a prison, Harry!"
"I know," Harry said and looked at him like he was stupid. "So?"
"So there is a whole world out there and we are being kept on this forsaken island! I have to get you out of here."
Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "I can leave anytime I want," he said. "I just don't want to."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked. "Even if there weren't any locks on the doors, which there are, there are Dementors everywhere and we're at least a couple of miles from the shore. I might be able to swim it, but you can't. And there's no way I'll make it while also carrying you."
Harry smiled mischievously and leaned forward. "Can you keep a se-cret?"
When Sirius nodded he grasped one of the iron bars between them. Or, at least, he made the motion, because his hand went through the bar. Sirius stared wide-eyed at the hand and sputtered.
"H-how…"
He watched as Harry grabbed his arm; his hand felt solid, but everything else immediately became… wispy. The burning torches threw no light, the shadows flickered and crawled over the wavering walls. Harry's pale face was luminous. When he pulled, Sirius came easily. The iron bars ceased to be a barrier and Sirius stumbled to his feet inside the hallway. Harry let go of his hand. The world returned to normal, color rushing back like spilled ink. Sirius felt faint. Harry watched as he searched for support against the wall.
"What just happened?" Sirius pushed off the wall and crouched in front of Harry, making sure to keep enough space between them. "Harry, how did you do that?"
Harry scrunched his eyebrows together. "You didn't like it?"
"No! No, I do like it! It's incredible!" Sirius reassured him. "I just don't understand... how you can do it."
"The Dementors can do it, too."
"They can," Sirius said, "but they're very different from us."
"It's not difficult." Harry half turned away and looked into the hallway that stretched out behind Sirius.
"Okay," Sirius said quickly. Don't leave, please. "Okay, that's great. You're great."
Harry shot a suspicious look at him.
"I'm se- I'm telling the truth, Harry. It's great that you can do that. Listen," he leaned slightly forward, making sure he had Harry's attention, "if I can find a way out of here, will you come with me? I promise I'll take care of you. And I'll show you everything you've been missing, like… like candy and movies and I'll take you sightseeing and to the Continent and everything."
Sirius waited with baited breath.
"Okay," Harry said. "Candy and movies and sightseeing."
Sirius felt the first small flickering of joy. He almost didn't recognize it, it had been so long. "You will. Great. Great. I'll think of a plan. But first," he looked uneasily down the hall, "can you get us back through the bars? I don't want to be caught out."
VIII.
"Okay, so, the walls aren't a problem," Sirius said when he was back in his cell. "But the Dementors-"
"The Dementors don't bother me," Harry interrupted.
"Right. Right, that's… okay," Sirius said. "But still, the sea. We're somewhere in the North Sea, but I've no idea where exactly… The sea is still a problem." Sirius fell silent. Harry shrugged and looked away. He looked bored.
"Once we get to the shore I can Apparate us somewhere safe…" Sirius paused when he saw he had Harry's full attention again. "Uh, Apparition is… it's instant travel. You think of where you want to go and you instantly appear there."
"Teleportation," Harry said.
"I guess, yeah. But Azkaban is heavily warded against that sort of thing. We need to get off the island first. And I can't Apparate while also swimming."
"How do the men get here?"
"The Aurors bring new prisoners here by boat. I guess we could steal one, but that would need to be timed perfectly. There'll probably be a guard stationed with the boat, too. At least it should move back to the shore automatically as soon as we're in it. I don't think they propel it themselves, seeing as the presence of Dementors dampens the ability to use magic." Sirius paused again, listening absently to the sounds made by various other prisoners. Then he grinned wildly. "It's not a bad shot, not at all. If you can get us past the locks and the Dementors, I can take care of the Auror at the boat. He'll be far more affected by the Dementors than my dog form is. We just need to know when a new prisoner is being dropped off." He glanced at Harry, who was still watching him attentively. "Could you… could you keep an eye on that? You obviously don't need to keep in your cell, but they'll notice if I'm gone."
Harry cocked his head and shrugged. "Sure."
Sirius grinned again and, without thinking, reached out to ruffle Harry's hair. His grin faded when the boy easily ducked out of range and frowned at him.
"Sorry," he said awkwardly. "I forgot."
"Don't forget," Harry said. "And don't touch me." He hesitated and then added, "I'm going now."
It sounded like a peace offering. Sirius smiled gratefully and nodded.
"Yes, okay. Thank you, Harry."
IX.
Sirius spent even more time than before as a dog, huddling in the corner to protect the spark of hope that had ignited in his chest. The one time the Dementors surprised him as a man, he went down immediately and it was only Harry's interruption that had saved him from their Kiss. The glimmer of positive emotion was irresistible to the creatures. Every time Harry came by Sirius perked up, hoping it would be the moment they could make their escape. Every time he was disappointed.
One time he was woken by the voices of Aurors and the clanging of shackles. Harry was nowhere to been seen. The bars of his cell were solid between his fingers. He could only listen as the voices grew faint and disappeared, leaving Azkaban once again to the prisoners and the Dementors.
Harry came by the next day. Sirius shed his fur and stumbled to his feet.
"Are there Aurors?" he asked, again feeling that traitorous hope flare up and fall when Harry shook his head.
"There were Aurors in Azkaban yesterday," Sirius said. "You weren't here."
"I didn't see them. I was doing other things."
"You have to pay attention, okay? They don't come that often. We have to be ready." Sirius crouched by the bars, wishing he could grab Harry and impress on him the importance of what he had to do.
"It's boring," Harry said. "You're the one who wants to leave." He rocked slightly on his feet. "I go to the pier, sometimes. There's never a boat."
Sirius sighed. "It's okay," he said, "as long as you keep an eye on it. Please. It's important."
"Okay," Harry said. "Can you teach me a song?"
Sirius faltered and shook his head. "I don't think I remember any songs." At Harry's scowl he added, "sorry."
Harry shrugged and sighed heavily. "Nobody here remembers songs. It's boring." He looked away for a moment, nodded firmly and looked back at Sirius. "When we are out, you can teach me songs."
"Yes," Sirius agreed. "When we are out."
X.
He was pacing his cell when Harry visited him again, trying to keep up his body in what small ways he could. He stopped when Harry immediately walked through the bars and grinned widely.
"There's a boat," Harry said. For a second, Sirius was completely still. Then an answering grin spread on his face.
"It's time, it's finally time, Harry! We're getting out!" He whirled around, then turned back to Harry. "Which way were the Aurors going?"
Harry just stared at him. Sirius sighed and shook his head. "No matter. We'll just hope we don't run into them. Let's go, we have to hurry. They always leave as quickly as they can."
He reached out a hand to Harry, who slipped around it, grabbed his other hand and pulled him through the bars. He immediately let go again and waited for Sirius to start walking.
The door at the end of the hallway was unlocked and lead into an identical hallway, though with a different orientation. The door at the end of that was also unlocked.
"They're always open," Harry spoke up when Sirius hesitated.
"Right," Sirius said and pushed it open. "The Dementors are more important than mere locks, anyway. Are you sure they won't come after us?"
"Yes," Harry said as they entered a stairwell. More torches sputtered on the wall, illuminating stairs that went round and round into the depths.
"This goes only half down," Harry said. "The other half are different stairs."
Sirius squinted into the depths. "I'm pretty sure it goes down all-"
"The bottom half is fake," Harry interrupted. "You fall through. The back staircase is all fake, most of the time."
Sirius nodded and started down the stairs. When they were halfway down the tower, he saw the rickety railing that had been put in front of the fake stairs. He snorted.
"What is the use of trick stairs when you put something in front of it?"
"The men are pretty stupid," Harry said. "Maybe they forget."
"The stupidest," Sirius agreed and turned to the door. It was unlocked like the others. He pushed it open and stepped through. He looked up.
He stood eye to eye with an Auror, a second Auror behind him with a new prisoner. The Auror started. His wand rose.
Before he could react, before Sirius could even think to fight or flee, Harry had already shot forward and jumped the first Auror. He latched onto the front of his robes, their faces level. The man stumbled at the unexpected weight. He hesitated for a moment, his wand still useless at his side. Then Harry ducked his head and-
Sirius could only watch as the man struggled and screamed and fell, his skull bouncing against the stone floor, his limbs jerking uselessly. The light in the hallway was dimming, or maybe it was just Sirius' eyesight, the torches flickering and Sirius thought he could see a light where the Auror and Harry were attached but that couldn't-
"What the fuck," the second Auror yelled shrilly and the sound jerked Sirius into action. He ran forward, flowing into his fur between one footstep and the next, jumped, opened his jaws-
A thin red streak of light shot harmlessly past Sirius. The second Auror fell backwards beneath the weight of the dog, his forearm clamped between Sirius' teeth. His wand clattered on the stone and Sirius could hear it rolling away before it bumped into something. A hand grabbed the fur on his neck and pulled. Sirius growled and clamped down harder, his nails scrabbling against the man's torso. Sirius felt it when the arm between his jaws broke, the sharp crack loud in his ears. It was followed by a scream. The hand at his neck fell away for a moment before it came back, punching at the side of his head. He let go of the arm and jumped out of range, shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. The man stayed on the ground, his broken arm clasped again his chest. He was breathing harshly through his clenched teeth. His eyes wandered for a second, before they settled somewhere to the left of Sirius.
When Sirius warily turned he saw the forgotten convict, pointing a wand at the downed Auror with hands that were still shackled together. He completely ignored both Sirius and Harry, who, when Sirius glanced over at him, was sitting on top of the first Auror. Sirius shuddered when he saw the empty eyes staring in his direction. He resolutely looked away.
"Well, well," the convict said and bared his teeth. "I like this much better, don't you?"
He was still completely focused on the Auror and Sirius cautiously crept towards Harry. They had to leave.
"You thought you could just put me away and forget about me," the convict continued. "Well, you can think again, asshole. Cru-"
Sirius leapt at him. It wasn't a conscious decision, one moment he was still creeping towards Harry, the next he was once again on top of a body. One that wasn't struggling. Sirius growled harshly in confusion, before his nose registered the smell of the blood that was pooling beneath the convict's skull. His head had slammed hard against the uneven ground when he went down. If he wasn't dead yet, he would be soon.
Sirius shakily stepped off the limp body and turned back into a man. The adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, making him simultaneously jittery and numb. He pried the wand out of the convict's grasp, did the same with the wand of the dead Auror and turned to the Auror that was still alive. He had struggled to a sitting position against the wall of the hallway. His eyes spat venom when they met Sirius'.
"You can't get off the island," he said hoarsely. "You can't get past the Dementors. They will take your soul like you deserve."
Sirius stepped forward and raised one of the stolen wands.
"Don't bother," Harry suddenly piped up and hopped off his perch. "The Dementors are coming to take care of him. If you still wanna go."
"Yeah," Sirius said after a moment of hesitation and lowered his wand. "Yeah, let's go."
When they left, Sirius could already see the frost creeping into the hallway. The Auror was screaming after them, swears and curses, the sound becoming quieter when they passed doorways and turned corners, before being cut off.
They went down the other staircase in silence. Sirius paused in the entry hall. "We can't go through the front door. Can you…" He gestured to the wall.
"Doggy," Harry said.
Sirius stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before realizing. He looked at the wand in his hand, the other secured to his underarm with a torn strip of fabric.
"Of course, yes." He quickly stuffed the other wand in the makeshift holster and pulled on his fur. He yipped when Harry smiled at him. A small hand settled on the back of his neck – the same place the Auror had grabbed him, but infinitely more gentle. They slipped through the outer wall, emerging into the storm that raged around Azkaban. Sirius could see the Auror left on the dock, looking impatiently at the entrance some meters away from them. Harry's hand fell away from his neck and he crept forward, careful to keep out of the Auror's line of sight. His dark coat blended in with the stones and the shadows. The Auror didn't notice Sirius until he was already on him, jumping from the gloom like a vengeful spirit.
"The grim…" the Auror moaned and went down without so much as a struggle. He stayed limply on the ground as Sirius took his abandoned wand between his teeth and headed for the boat. Harry was already in it, huddling in his overlarge cloak against the rain and the sea spray. As soon as Sirius was also inside, he said "go" and the boat obediently started forward.
The still lying Auror disappeared quickly behind the sheets of water, the monolithic mass of Azkaban took only a little longer to be obscured. Sirius waited until they could see only water around them before shedding his fur and laughing wildly.
"What a little pissant! The grim, indeed!"
Harry huddled further beneath his cloak and scowled. "I don't like it. It's too wet here."
"We'll be out of the rain before you know it," Sirius said. "As soon as we're out of range, I'll Apparate us out. We'll find somewhere to hunker down and I'll make us a fire." He turned the latest stolen wand around in his hands. "I'll check which of these wand suit me best and we're all set to go. How does that sound? Where do you want to go first?"
"The zoo," Harry said and his scowl lessened slightly. "I want to see the animals."
"The zoo it is then, buddy," Sirius said and laughed again. "The zoo, and then everything else."
There are, obviously, some very big differences between the original and the rewrite. I've gotten older, a bit wiser, and more hopeful. This is reflected in the story. I may continue this, but for now I am satisfied. Thank you for reading.