I apologize for the long author's note, but there are some things that need explaining, so please read this. First: this takes place early in the summer after Harry's fourth year. Second: Harry is abused in this story, but there's not too much of it actually described in detail. Third: Sirius becomes a free man. He and Remus are best friends, NOT a couple (I don't have a problem with slash, but I don't write slash. If you want to interpret it that way, though, then that's fine.)

Also, and maybe this doesn't make a difference, but I'm American. That means I speak American English. I don't exactly know how to use certain British phrases. Sorry about that. Harry is British, and I would have loved to keep him as much in character as possible, but hey. Who knows; maybe I didn't do a horrible job.

I own nothing. All rights belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I don't earn any profit whatsoever; this writing is merely for fun.

Twelve years in Azkaban, a daring escape from said prison, two years in hiding, countless attempts at finding evidence, and an extra strong dose of Veritaserum….and it all came down to this.

Sirius Black sat in a chair in the middle of a large courtroom, feeling a lot like an animal on display in a zoo. Wizards and witches of all sizes, shapes, ethnicities, and ages were staring down at him from every side, but he focused on the ones in front of him; the ones that would be determining his fate.

"All those in favor of conviction?" Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, asked the Wizengamot. Sirius hardly dared to look around, unable to take his eyes off the Minister of Magic. Fudge counted the votes quickly.

"All those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" This time, Sirius couldn't help it. His eyes strayed from Fudge and roamed the room. He held his breath as first one, then two, and then a dozen more witches and wizards began raising their hands. Fudge counted the votes, but he hardly needed to. It was obvious that far more than half of the people gathered in the room had their hands raised. Sirius turned back to face the Minister. The verdict wouldn't be official until it came directly from Fudge's lips.

"Sirius Orion Black, this Wizengamot finds that you are innocent. You are hereby cleared of all charges. You will receive one year in Azkaban for being an unregistered animagus, however, since you've already served more than your fair share of time in prison, you will be allowed to return to your home as a free man, and a notice of your full pardon will be distributed throughout the Wizarding and Muggle worlds immediately. As retribution for your unfair incarceration, you will receive one thousand galleons for each of the twelve years you were imprisoned, minus one year for being an unregistered animagus. Dismissed."

The room began to clear, and Sirius rose from his seat, turning to face the friends who had come to watch his trial.

"Remus!" Sirius exclaimed. "Remus, I'm free!" Remus Lupin, for his part, didn't speak; instead, he gathered his best friend into his arms and hugged him, a grin lighting up his face and making him appear much younger than he really was.

"You did it, Sirius!" Hermione Granger cheered, jumping up and down enthusiastically. Sirius laughed and pulled her in for a hug, too.

"Congratulations, Mr. Black," Professor McGonogall nodded. She didn't smile, but Sirius could see that her eyes were alight with happiness.

Dumbledore, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Mad Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even Severus Snape each took a turn congratulating the ex-convict, and together the group left the Ministry, using the floo network to get back to Grimmauld Place, Sirius' previous hiding place.

"I can't wait to tell Harry," Sirius exclaimed, unable to sit still now that he'd been cleared.

"Well, why don't you send him an owl right now, dear?" Mrs. Weasley was being much more friendly now that she was one hundred percent sure that Sirius wasn't a murderer. "You can borrow Pigwidgeon."

For a moment, Sirius considered it. Then he shook his head. "Nah," he said with a grin. "I want to tell him in person."

"I'm afraid, Sirius, that it will have to wait until the first of August," Dumbledore cut in. "He must stay at his home in Privet Drive at least until then in order for the blood wards to remain in effect.

"Aw, come on, Albus," Sirius sighed. "Now that I'm free, I can protect him. I can be a much better guardian to him here than those Muggles ever have been."

"Be that as it may," Albus stated gravely, "Harry's protection must be ensured."

"Well, why don't we have some cake, then?" Molly Weasley asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. Sirius wasn't pleased with Dumbledore's assessment of the situation, but he was too thrilled at his freedom to argue. Following the group into the kitchen, Sirius cut the celebratory cake (which he noticed that Molly had baked long before they'd left Grimmauld Place for the trial) and dug in. His good mood increased when a familiar snowy owl flew into the kitchen from the main hallway. Pausing to rub Hedwig's feathers, Sirius smiled. Yes, it was good to be free.

****HP*****

Harry Potter was not having a good time.

The summer holidays were still young, and so far things in the Dursley household had been even worse than usual. No longer afraid of the threat of Sirius Black, the Dursleys were being more hateful than they'd ever been before. Harry had been locked in his bedroom once again, and for every day that passed, he was feeling more and more angry and claustrophobic. He hadn't been allowed to eat dinner with the Dursleys. He hadn't been allowed to send letters to his friends. He hadn't been allowed to use the telephone, to go for a walk, or even to read his spellbooks. He hadn't been allowed to look at the photo album of his parents that Hagrid had gifted him with in his first year.

In other words, Harry was alone. His owl, Hedwig, had been allowed out of her cage only because she kept waking uncle Vernon every night with her screeching. Harry saw his owl's freedom as a positive thing; however, it also meant that he was even lonelier than he'd been at the start of the summer. At the moment, Hedwig was out hunting. She'd been gone for three days, and Harry desperately wished she'd come back soon. He needed someone to talk to.

Footsteps echoed out in the hallway and Harry froze in place, listening intently to what was going on outside his bedroom door. Movement at the bottom of the door caught his eye and Harry watched with bated breath as the cat flap opened and a tray of food was pushed in. He was off his bed in half a second, rushing to the door and practically pouncing on the meal. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd been fed since the start of the school break.

Forcing himself to eat slowly (knowing he'd be vomiting up his meager rations if he didn't take his time) Harry shoved the half-eaten dinner roll into his mouth. It was still warm, which was surprising. The Dursleys never gave him warm food these days. He then started on the dry salad, saving the carrots for last. Also on the tray was a quarter sleeve of crackers, a glass of water, and a piece of paper. The crackers he saved for later, stuffing the sleeve under the loose floorboards so that his aunt wouldn't notice them. He downed half the water in one gulp, forcing himself to leave the other half. He'd drink it later tonight. Sighing as he flopped back onto his bed, he looked at the piece of paper. It was a note from Uncle Vernon.

Freak,

Your aunt and I are taking Dudley to the movies. If you do anything while we're gone, I'll beat you to death. Stay put.

Uncle Vernon

Harry rolled his eyes at the note. There really wasn't much he could do, trapped in his room as he was with no wand, no owl, and no way to get out. Surely Uncle Vernon knew this, and was capitalizing on the opportunity to threaten Harry once again. Not that Harry didn't take the threat seriously; he knew very well that Uncle Vernon would follow through.

A car started in front of the house, and Harry watched from his window as the Dursleys pulled away and drove down the street. He was really and truly alone, now. At least before there had been someone else in the house. Even if the Dursleys did nothing but torment him, Harry was glad to know that he wasn't the only living creature in the world. The current loneliness he was feeling was almost painful. He hadn't had any letters all summer (well, that wasn't technically true; Ron and Hermione had both sent him letters, but at that point the bars had been on his window and the owls couldn't get through) and he was beginning to think that even his friends had forgotten about him. This left him feeling very depressed.

Hedwig chose that moment to soar through the open window, landing on the desk with a gentle thud. She stuck out her leg, and Harry noticed a letter attached there. He stood, fighting off a wave of dizziness as he made his way to the beautiful snowy owl and untied the letter. The bird gave a soft hoot, nipped gently at his fingers, and flew into her cage to rest. He eagerly opened the letter, desperate to see who had remembered him.

Harry,

I'm sorry I haven't written to you sooner. I've been busy with something important – I can't wait to tell you all about it, but I want to tell you in person. I was going to send you a letter tomorrow, but Hedwig appeared this morning and I took the opportunity. Right smart bird, Hedwig is.

How's your summer going? Dumbledore says you must stay with the Dursleys until the end of July at least, in order for the wards protecting you to remain intact. I'm sorry about that, Prongslet; I'd been hoping that you could get out of there and stay with me or the Weasleys.

I hope those Muggles have been treating you right.

Keep your head down, and stay out of trouble. Someone will be there on the first of August to get you.

See you soon, kiddo.

Sirius

Harry felt a grin building on his face as he read Sirius's letter. His godfather hadn't forgotten his existence, after all. It was unfortunate that he'd have to wait another whole month to be rescued from his current situation, but Harry marked the date on his calendar, hope building in him as he held onto the fact that he would, in fact, be rescued. Digging a Muggle pen out from under the loose floorboards, Harry tore a page from a Muggle encyclopedia that Dudley had left in the room and began writing a note back to his godfather. Hedwig watched his movements.

Sirius,

I'm glad to hear from you. I was worried.

Prongslet? I don't even want to know.

What have you been so busy doing? You can't just tell me something like that and not elaborate. I'm Harry Potter; curiosity is my middle name. Come on, Sirius; August is a whole month away. I can't wait that long to know what you've been up to. What are you being so secretive about?

Do I really have to stay with the Dursleys? I know the wards are important, but I'd rather be with you, or with Ron and Hermione. The Muggles are treating me fine…they're treating me like they always do.

Thanks for writing, Sirius.

Harry

PS – Sirius Black, telling someone to stay out of trouble? I think I hear the world ending. Don't worry about me. There's not much trouble I can get into here.

It was true, Harry sighed. He was locked in his bedroom, being fed one meal every two or three days. There wasn't much he could do. He was dehydrated, he was hungry, and he wasn't sure he had enough energy to pace his room, let alone get into any trouble. He had half a mind to tell Sirius this and beg to be rescued immediately, but he didn't want to cause any inconvenience. Sirius was still on the run from the Ministry of Magic, and the Weasleys wouldn't be able to pull off another rescue attempt, Harry was sure. Remus Lupin might be able to do something, but Harry had a feeling that his old professor had more important things to take care of. No; it was best that Harry just keep silent about what was going on and hope that the first of August came quickly.

"Hedwig," Harry called, and the bird hooted expectantly. "Are you too tired to deliver a letter for me, girl?" He half expected the owl to hoot indignantly and go to sleep, but the bird surprised him by soaring out of her cage and landing on his outstretched arm. She nipped his fingers gently, turning amber eyes to stare into his own. "Take this to Sirius, please. If you're tired, he won't mind letting you stay there for a day or two." The owl hooted again, gave him a final nip, and waited for him to tie the letter to her leg. Then she was off, flying back out the window and into the rapidly darkening sky.

Harry had no idea where Sirius was hiding, but he knew it would be a few hours, at least, before the older man even got the letter Hedwig was carrying. The owl would need to rest, and then it would be another few hours before Harry would have a reply. He sighed, settling back onto his bed, mentally calculating another three-day stint of complete loneliness. It would probably be at least that long since he'd get food again, too, seeing as he'd been given such a large meal today. There was also the matter of Uncle Vernon's threat. The note he'd gotten with his dinner had said that he'd be beaten for leaving his room, but he was sure his uncle would find an excuse to flay him whether he left his bedroom or not.

With that unpleasant thought in mind Harry closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep, waking repeatedly after dreaming about the graveyard. Each dream was always the same; a flash of green light, Cedric's lifeless body, and unimaginable pain as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

*****HP*****

Sirius paced his room, Harry's letter clenched in his fist. The way it was written was odd, Sirius thought. For one thing it wasn't written on parchment. Sirius didn't recognize the writing surface, but it was clearly something Muggle. From the looks of it, it was a page from some kind of Muggle textbook. The ink, too, was wrong. Sirius could easily tell that Harry's letter hadn't been written with a quill, but instead with a Muggle pen. This, he supposed, wasn't cause for concern in and of itself. After all, Harry lived in a house with Muggles. It was entirely possible that he'd run out of parchment, and maybe a Muggle pen was the most convenient writing instrument Harry could find.

Pacing another lap across the room, Sirius held up the letter and read through it for the umpteenth time. One part in particular caught his eye.

The Muggles are treating me fine…they're treating me like they always do.

Sirius frowned, reading this line over and over. There was something wrong with it, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was just over a year ago that he'd first had an actual conversation with his godson since his escape from Azkaban. It hadn't bothered him, at the time, that Harry had gone from believing that Sirius was a murderer to agreeing to live with him in the space of half an hour. Now that he thought about it, though, it did seem sort of strange. Murderer or not, godfather or not, Sirius had, at the time, been a complete stranger in Harry's eyes. Why would Harry have agreed so quickly to living with him?

It wasn't for nothing that Sirius Black had once been one of the best aurors in the entire Wizarding world. He knew how to spot a fishy situation, and this certainly seemed strange. Why he hadn't noticed it back when he'd first had the conversation with Harry was beyond him, though he supposed that it must have been his excitement over finally meeting his teenage godson. Now, however, the slip in his attention was eating at him. What could possibly be a good enough reason for a teenage boy to willingly (and even happily) agree to go and live with someone who had been convicted of betraying the boy's parents to the most evil wizard to ever live?

"Remus," Sirius called, knowing that Remus would hear him, thanks to his enhanced werewolf senses. Sure enough, Sirius heard quiet footsteps coming up the stairs towards his room.

"What's wrong, Sirius?" The werewolf asked from the doorway, eyeing his best friend worriedly as Sirius continued to attempt to wear a visible track into the floor as he paced.

"When you were teaching Prongslet," he started, using their nickname for Harry, "Did you ever notice anything… strange… about him?" It wasn't the right word, but it was the only one that came to mind. Remus paused.

"I'm not sure what you mean," the werewolf frowned. Sirius huffed; he wasn't sure how to explain it.

"I mean, did you ever notice anything…" but the words wouldn't come. Sirius himself wasn't sure what he was trying to say. All he knew was that his auror instincts were telling him that something was wrong, and his godfather instincts were backing that opinion.

"Sirius, what's this about?" Remus asked, noticing Sirius's difficulty and trying to help him find a way to explain what was bothering him.

"I just have a bad feeling," Sirius explained, causing Remus's forehead to crease. Whenever Sirius had a 'bad feeling', it usually meant that something was very wrong.

"About Harry?"

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "About Harry."

"Explain," Remus was instantly on alert. Sirius frowned.

"I'm not sure that I can, Remus. It's just… that night," he said, and Remus instantly knew which night he was referring to. "Why would he agree to live with me? It was my word against Peter's that I wasn't a mass murderer, and yet when I asked him, he seemed thrilled at the chance to live with me. Why would he so quickly agree to live with someone who had potentially betrayed his parents to Voldemort?"

Remus frowned. "I'm not sure," he said. "You're right. That's… strange."

"Yes."

"That's not all," Remus stated. Sirius glanced up at his best friend.

"No," he agreed. "Harry sent me this letter." He held up the textbook page with Harry's writing on it. Remus raised an eyebrow, asking to see the letter. Sirius handed it to him.

"It's a Muggle textbook," Remus came to the same conclusion as Sirius had.

"Read the letter, though," Sirius prodded, continuing to pace the floor, watching Remus as the werewolf's eyes sought out Harry's writing.

"It's not written with a quill," Remus noted.

"No, it's written with a Muggle pen."

"So?"

"Read it more closely. Does anything seem…off?"

"He doesn't seem to want to stay with the Muggles anymore," Remus hesitated. Sirius nodded, watching Remus's face closely as the werewolf thought. "Do you think there's more going on there than he's letting on?"

Sirius flinched, halting in his tracks so fast that he almost tripped.

"Do you?" Sirius asked, voice dangerous. Both men knew what Remus had meant.

"I think we should keep an eye on the situation," Remus said carefully. "Sirius, maybe there's nothing going on. Maybe we're reading into this something that isn't there. If you were Harry, and you knew your friends were having fun in the Wizarding world, would you really want to stay with a bunch of Muggles?"

"No," Sirius admitted. "I guess you're right. Still, something feels wrong."

Remus didn't say anything, but Sirius could tell from his friend's expression that the man agreed with him. Vowing to pay more attention to Harry's letters in the future, Sirius and Remus sat down together to write to the boy they each included as part of their family.

*****HP*****

It had been four days since he'd sent Hedwig off with a letter to Sirius, and there was still no sign of either the bird or a reply from his godfather. Harry had been right in his assumptions that Uncle Vernon would make up some false story about something he had done wrong as an excuse to punish him further. Wincing as he moved to the loose floorboards, Harry dug out the crackers he'd buried when he'd gotten his last meal. However, he was forced to spit the first bite out the window. Swallowing was painful, thanks to Uncle Vernon's attempts at strangling him to death. Harry desperately wished Hedwig would return with a letter; he hadn't seen or heard from any of the Dursleys in over 48 hours now, and the solitude was driving him crazy.

Dragging his sore, bruised body to his desk, the young wizard heaved himself into his chair. The effort was painful and left him breathless. He leaned over the desk for a moment, attempting to regain control of himself, before he turned to look out the window. He had been watching the sky almost constantly for the past six hours, trying to spot his beloved snowy owl. So far, he hadn't seen any movement at all.

Harry was feeling anxious. His owl was missing, the Dursleys weren't making any noise, he'd not heard from anyone, and it would still be another five hours before it was dark. He knew that once again the Dursleys wouldn't let him out to use the bathroom, so he was desperately trying to ignore his bladder until it was dark enough to relieve himself out the window. This was unpleasant, but it wasn't something he hadn't dealt with before. To top it all off his body hurt and he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Thoughts of Cedric and the graveyard and Voldemort's return were plaguing him, and sleep was impossible. As if that wasn't enough, Harry could feel that he was becoming ill.

Uncle Vernon chose that moment to storm down the hall. Harry could hear his uncle's loud footsteps, and all too soon the many locks on the bedroom door were rattling. Harry froze, genuine fear causing him to swallow a lump in his throat. He counted the locks as they were opened. At the click of the fifth one the door swung open, and Harry was met with a very angry Uncle Vernon.

"Boy!" his uncle yelled, spit flying from his mouth and face purple. With a sinking feeling Harry realized that the man was drunk. He didn't bother to reply; no words would have stopped what came next.

Harry's hands raised instinctively to cover his face as Uncle Vernon's fist came at his nose. The punch missed its mark, landing on Harry's shoulder instead, probably because Uncle Vernon was too drunk to aim properly. Still, the blow was painful and Harry staggered backwards. The still-fourteen-year-old watched in mute horror as his uncle slowly removed his belt, a ferocious grin on his face. Harry closed his eyes and mentally escaped to a happier place. He felt the blows of the belt leaving painful marks on his body; he felt blood begin to spatter his arms and legs and back. In his mind's eye, however, he was in a quiet meadow, watching his father and mother tossing a Quaffle back and forth as Sirius and Remus charmed flowers to sing the ABCs over and over. Harry began mentally chanting the alphabet along with the daisies and tulips, using the repetitive sequence of letters to ground him to reality.

The beating didn't last as long as the one the other night, and Harry soon found himself alone once more, locked in his room, lying on the floor painfully. When had he fallen over? He had no idea.

Thankfully, Hedwig had the uncanny ability of appearing exactly when she was needed. The owl landed beside Harry's hand on the floor, dropping a letter from where it was clenched in her beak. Harry petted her as he read the parchment, which turned out to contain two letters in one.

Harry,

Your father's nickname was Prongs. Therefore, you are Prongslet.

Last time I checked, kiddo, your middle name was James, not Curious.

I'm sorry, Harry, but I really want to tell you the news in person. Don't worry. I think it will be well worth the wait.

Are you okay, kiddo? Maybe it's my imagination, but your last letter felt a little odd, for lack of a better phrase. Dumbledore wants you to stay on Privet Drive, yes, but if something's going on there that I should know about, I want to hear it from you, not from anyone else.

Give Hedwig a rest before writing back to me, Prongslet. She seemed only too happy to leave with my letter after only twelve hours of rest, but it's really a long journey from my location to yours, and this is the third time she's made it recently.

Looking forward to hearing your reply, and don't forget, August the first. See you then!

Sirius

Written underneath the letter from Sirius was another letter in a different hand. Harry recognized the writing as belonging to Remus Lupin, his werewolf ex-DADA teacher.

Harry!

I hope your summer is going well. I've been helping Sirius sort some things out. He's worried about you, Harry, and quite frankly so am I. I don't like the sight of those Muggle relatives of yours. I know Dumbledore wants you to stay with them for the rest of the month, but I may stop in at some point in the next week or so to say hi.

If I know you, Harry, you'll be having trouble sleeping. Try to remember that what happened in June wasn't your fault.

I'll be seeing you very soon.

Remus

Harry almost cried in relief. Remus was going to come and see him. Remus would see what was happening. Remus would take him out of there, or at the very least, Remus would stop the Dursleys from hurting him anymore.

Hedwig nibbled on his hand, and Harry looked into the owl's amber eyes.

"Are you okay?" she seemed to be asking, though no words were spoken. Harry was almost glad; he didn't want to have to add hallucinations to the list of things ailing him.

"Hedwig," he groaned softly, not daring to speak above a whisper. If Uncle Vernon heard him making any noise, he'd get beaten again. The owl softly hooted, and Harry was as relieved as he was surprised that she seemed to understand the need for silence. She nibbled at his ear this time, and Harry got the message. Dragging himself painfully into a sitting position, he slowly managed to climb into his bed.

"Hedwig," he groaned again, and the large bird landed beside him, piercing him with her gaze. She hooted again, and the sound was a reassuring one. Harry's vision was trying to blur, and the teen allowed it to do so. Within seconds he was unconscious.

****HP*****

Sirius was having a bad week. He was sure Harry had gotten his letter, and now he was regretting telling Harry to let Hedwig rest before sending back a reply. He needed to know that his godson was safe.

In the meantime, the full moon had caused enough of a distraction that Sirius was forced to put Harry in the back of his thoughts for a few hours. Remus had taken the wolfsbane potion as usual, but his worry over Harry had rendered some of the potion's effects inert. While Remus still remembered who he was after the transformation, the process was more painful than usual and Remus was quite shaken up when he became human once again. Sirius had sat by the bedside of his exhausted friend for hours, not wanting Remus to wake up alone.

Once Remus had recovered, however, the two had gone back to worrying over Harry. The wait for a reply was agonizingly slow, and not even Fred and George Weasley, Marauders-in-training, could distract the men from their brooding.

On the plus side, news of Sirius's innocence had been spread. The Daily Prophet had run an article every day since the hearing, and Dumbledore had ordered the Hogwarts paintings to move from place to place to tell as many people as possible of the news. Ron and Hermione were owling all of their friends, and Dobby the House Elf had also agreed to pass along the word to anyone who would listen. The Healers at St. Mungo's were doing their part, too, telling their patients that Sirius had not in fact committed the crimes he had been accused of.

The Order of the Phoenix had acquired new intelligence regarding the location of some of Voldemort's closest followers, and aurors were being dispatched to take care of the problem. The war was far from over, but for now, the light was winning.

Still, none of this was enough to take Sirius's mind away from Harry.

*****HP*****

When Harry next opened his eyes, it was dark out. He had the impression that he'd been unconscious for quite a long time. He forced himself to sit up, feeling his shirt sticking to the cuts in his back as he did. His arms and legs hurt, and his back felt as though it were on fire. As he moved he noticed that his pants were wet, and his face burned with humiliation when he realized that he'd wet himself. He surveyed his room quickly, trying to find any evidence of how much time had passed. Hedwig was in her cage sleeping, though she woke up quickly when Harry grunted in pain. He noticed that there was a bowl next to the door, and a cup next to the bowl. He knew the cup contained water, and from what he could tell the bowl was filled with dry cereal.

Harry cautiously made his way over to the bowl. He couldn't stand; his legs were too weak, and his muscles shook. Instead he half-crawled, half-dragged his body to the door. Taking a tentative bite of cereal and forcing it down, he realized that it was stale. If he had to guess, he'd say that it had been sitting out for about ten hours now. Not that that meant anything; it was entirely possible that Aunt Petunia had intentionally given him stale cereal.

Next, Harry turned to face out the window. He could see the moon from where he was. The last he knew it had been close to full, but now it was only just beginning to wane. He guessed that two to three days had passed. He couldn't tell if one day or two had passed since the full moon, but he thought that it must have been two. Idly, Harry wondered how Remus was doing after his latest transformation.

A concerned hoot from Hedwig got Harry's attention.

"Hey, girl," he muttered, trying and failing to haul himself back to bed. He collapsed on the floor, earning a squawk of worry from his pet. Hedwig soared from her cage and landed on the floor. Harry was amazed once again at his owl's intelligence as the bird took one look at him, flew up to his desk, and picked up Harry's pen before flying back to the teen. The note from Sirius and Remus was still on the floor, and the owl pushed it at Harry. Harry accepted the pen as Hedwig hooted at him. The meaning was clear: write a letter to Sirius.

Hand shaking, Harry turned over the letter and wrote two messy, desperate words on the parchment.

Help me.

He didn't have enough energy to tie the letter to Hedwig's leg, but the owl seemed to realize this. She picked up the parchment in her beak, gave Harry one last look, and took off out the window before Harry had a chance to tell her where it needed to go. He figured she already knew, anyways.

Unable to fight back a sudden wave of nausea, Harry vomited. There wasn't much in his stomach, and the dry heaves hurt. Realizing with another blush that his pants were still wet, Harry tried to get to his wardrobe to change his clothes. The movement was too painful, and he collapsed once again, passing out before his head hit the floor.

To be continued.