((Author's notes:
Thanks to some encouragement from a dear friend, I've finally been inspired to write this story which has been milling about in my head for years. It's been quite a while since I wrote any HP 'fic, so please forgive me if I seem a bit 'rusty' at first.
As always, thank you for reading! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I do writing it.))
Sirius Black was not sure where exactly he was.
There had been the sensation of falling back, true, and the bright flare of anger at the triumphant look on Bellatrix's face. He remembered trying to call out to Harry, trying to grasp for something - anything - to pull himself back - a ledge, a bit of the black cloth of the veil - anything to get back to the Department of Mysteries. But there had been nothing to hold onto - just the blackness, just falling perpetually backwards until...
Until now.
He would have thought either heaven or hell would be less subtle. Instead the room was a rather pleasant reflection of the one he had just been in. It was calm and dark, and all that he could hear was the steady dripping of something in the corner - water, perhaps, though he couldn't tell if it was a burst pipe or a natural moistness as if he were in a cave with budding stalactites. For a brief moment of panic he thought he was back in Azkaban, but despite the darkness there was no oppressive atmosphere. It was cozy, even.
Slowly, he pulled himself up, giving a sharp wince - or rather, a small growl underneath his breath. Apparently his instinct had been, while falling, to transform into his Animagus form of a large, shaggy black dog. Given how his ribs ached, he wasn't in a hurry to reverse the process. Besides, the dim light was easier for canine eyes to process.
The steady dripping from the far corner made his ears twitch. And the veiled archway fluttered gently, oddly unyielding.
There was a soft murmur from the doorway above. He immediately scrambled to press himself into a corner, looking as inconspicuous as possible - easy enough for a black dog to do in a room full of black shadows.
"...an abnormal reading was detected so we must investigate. That is the entire basis of society - neatly ordered lines, fulfilling of contracts, duties given and completed - I am sure I have told you again and again, Penelope -"
"It's Penny, Nick."
A harsh sliver of light cleaved its way into the room like an axe biting at soft firewood. They were merely silhouettes for a moment, but their two figures became clear enough: a brown-haired and utterly bland-looking man, followed by a red-haired woman. He was wearing a uniform - the badge read Ministry of Magic, though he was not wearing robes, but instead an outfit of suspiciously Muggle-like make. She, on the other hand, looked as if she had just stepped out of some party. Her breath still stank of cheap alcohol and her high heels hit the stone floor like the lopsided gait of a drunken horse.
"My name is Nicholas, Penelope -"
"And my name is Penny. As long as you keep calling me Penelope, you're getting called Nick," she drawled.
"Penelope is the name you have on file. If it is incorrect, you should have taken care of this issue weeks ago by filling out -"
"Form eighty-one B, yeah, yeah. You keep telling me that." She stood in the sliver of light to examine her fingernails. "Hurry up, I've got places to be."
The man gave a frustrated sigh. "You aren't even going to help me take these readings? You know the Lady's orders, we're to examine this every time there's a spike or fluctuation -"
"Uh, yeah, and that's your job, not mine. I'm your boss, remember?" She said lazily.
"A token effort would be appreciated..." He dropped his voice to a mutter. "We can't all have comfortable jobs due to family connections."
"What was that?" She said harshly.
"Nothing, nothing..."
"Good, because I'm sure that you don't want me telling my little sis how you're having traitorous leanings, yeah?" She leered at him before giving a snort. "I'm going outside for a smoke. Give a yell when you're done."
Sirius had one thing to be thankful for: arguments made fantastic distractions. The man turned back to his work, cursing and muttering underneath his breath, as the woman wandered up the stairs to the Department of Mysteries proper. It was more organized than he remembered it. More homogenized, perhaps. Less magical in a way that seemed oxymoronic. There were cubicles. But most importantly there were plenty of shadows to hide in as he followed the woman out to a side entrance.
The dingy alleyway certainly did not seem like part of Diagon Alley at all, or really any part of the Wizarding world. But the woman left the door propped open and promptly pulled out a cigarette that, from the smell, was laced with at least three potions the Ministry had outlawed for reasons of public health. By the time she had leaned back against the building and let out the first puff of thick smoke from her lips, Sirius was long gone.
He dashed out into the main road with a loping gait, ready to run, preparing himself for split-second decisions - but they were entirely unnecessary. The city seemed to be deserted, quiet in the small hours of the morning. It was also wholly unlike anything Sirius had seen before.
Or, rather, had smelled before. It was so similar when he was in his canine form. Cement that was as young as he was, new brick-work, gutters, sewers. Brownstone townhouses marched down either side of the street. He could smell the magic, what little residue of it there was. He was used to the peppery-citrus bite of spells being woven, something he had tried to describe to others a dozen times and had not been able to fully communicate. The lamps were lit with magic, but were in Muggle style. It seemed every other house had a car in it, and all of them had magic brooms stored outside as if expected to serve in exactly the same capacity. There were as many basketball hoops and football practice goals as there were sets of Quidditch equipment. It was unnerving, deeply so - even for him.
It was a maze of houses, suburbs that seemed to be almost artificial in nature, dead-ending in cul-de-sacs. Occasionally there was some signage pointing towards names that seemed familiar, at least superficially. By the time the first tinges of dawn light appeared, dim fingers clinging at the urban horizon, he was still lost in the jungle of brickwork and asphalt.
If this was the afterlife, Sirius was rather disappointed. He expected heaven to be obvious, and hell to be even more obvious, though he regarded each idea with little more than skepticism. Maybe this was reincarnation. He supposed that there were certainly worse fates than being a dog. No Dementors, no obvious threat. The neighborhoods were quite friendly, even if in an artificial sort of way - as threatening as a bowl of oatmeal.
Gloaming was warming into dawn when he froze in his tracks at the sound of a voice.
"Here, puss-puss-puss..."
An older woman's voice, quite pleasant. As he trotted nearer, he caught the scent of her perfume - roses, maybe with a hint of lavender. The metallic-fishy tang of canned tuna. The sound of the tin top peeling back made his ears twitch.
"Here, puss-puss-puss... there you are," the woman soothed, setting the tin of tuna up on a waist-height brickwork fence. A thin tabby kitten was sitting on the other edge of the fence, staring suspiciously at her. She stepped back before snugly pulling her cardigan around her - eggshell blue-green, embroidered with a few white flowers at the sleeve. "Eat all you like, dear. I'm not going to hurt you." She smiled, and the cat snuck forward over the brick fence to sit at the can of tuna, nibbling and staring suspiciously at the woman. "Poor thing, so thin..."
Sirius' shoulder ached, and his ribs hurt. And the tuna smelled awfully good. And he was tired. Given all of those things, he knew when it was time to take advantage of a good opportunity.
His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as he panted to make himself more obvious. The woman only gave a small jump before giving him a smile. "Oh, hello there!" She kept her hands tucked underneath her arms - the morning was rather chilly, after all. But her face was kind, framed by a halo of slightly frizzy grey hair piled into a messy bun. Instead of running in fright and assuming he was a Grim, a premonition of death, she took a few delicate steps forward and crouched down, keeping her hands warm but still inviting him to come closer.
Sirius wasn't entirely used to playing the part of a friendly pet, but he limped over in a friendly way, tail wagging. As he came closer, she extended a slim hand to let him sniff before petting him gently. "My, what a handsome fellow you are!" It was a stupid indulgence, and Sirius hated to admit it, but he did enjoy the simple pleasure of being scratched behind his ears while in his Animagus form. "What a lovely coat. You must be eating well. But no collar..." She frowned, looking worried, before meeting his gaze directly. "And that limp. Poor dear... are you lost?"
"Rrrouf," he managed, wagging his tail and trying to hit the right balance of a smart dog, yet a dog not smart enough to raise suspicions.
A bright smile crested over her face. "Well. I'm sure that I can at least get that leg looked at... maybe help you find your way home. How about that, hmm?" Another scritch behind the ears, and Sirius wagged his tail. "Come on then, dear. Home's not far from here."
He trotted alongside her, and considered that if this was his next life in reincarnation, he could have done much worse than living the luxurious life of a pet.