Mangy Flea-Ridden Dog
By Bohemian Storm
Disclaimer: I don't own them. They belong to JK Rowling.
Notes: I don't know what possessed me to write this, but I do adore Sirius and couldn't deny him his fun and torture.
Sirius Black trudged reluctantly up the stairs following his friends, James Potter and Remus Lupin. It was tempting to hurry in order to catch up to them, but that might destroy the Sirius Black trademark trudge (sometimes transformed into a nice saunter or a cocky stroll). He was never the last to get to class, that was a title reserved was Peter Pettigrew, but this year, young Pettigrew had decided not to take Divination, which left Sirius as the only one dragging his feet behind the others . . . all alone. It was a very wise decision on Peter's part, in Sirius's opinion. Too bad his own mother was a palm-reader and insisted that Sirius's Inner Eye just had yet to be opened. It didn't matter how many times Trelawney clucked her tongue and shook her head, Mrs. Black insisted he would follow in her footsteps. A thought he very much dreaded.
"Padfoot, hurry up," James called from somewhere above and Sirius sighed.
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, wondering what Trelawney might do if he just never showed up her for class again. If her Inner Eye really worked (which Sirius seriously doubted it did) she might track him down and drag him back to class by his ear like McGonagall. He snorted angrily at the memory of McGonagall doing that in this second year, then turned a corner and found himself in a large empty landing. It was completely unfamiliar to him, regardless of the fact that he'd attended Divination classes for two full years before this one. They had always taken the stairs toward the South Tower, then crossed the hall on the eighth floor. Wherever he was now, it wasn't his usual route to class.
"Bloody hell," he swore softly, then turned his eyes to the hall on his right. He had been so deep in thought that his friends had disappeared and he hadn't noticed.
"Guys?" he asked, still staring down the hall. "Prongs? Moony?"
There was no answer . . . not that he had expected one; the landing was completely empty except for a large painting of a blue and green landscape. In one corner of the painting, grazing contentedly, was a very fat grey pony.
"Do you know where they went?" Sirius asked, watching the speckled pony carefully. He doubted he'd get an answer, but everything was worth a try at Hogwarts.
Just as he had expected, the creature barely acknowledged his presence.
Sirius grunted, then leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. It didn't matter what he did now, any way he looked at it, he was going to be very late. His parents would receive a letter before the end of the day . . . mind you, he rather suspected that his mother's Inner Eye would know and he'd have his Howler before lunch. Sirius Black would be in loads of trouble, especially after that damned McGonagall had informed him that he'd be in detention for months if he put a single toe out of line. And that included being late for class.
"Just because Snape's eyes were glued shut," he muttered angrily. "Greasy bastard. If that twit Sinistra hadn't stuck her nose in where it didn't belong no one would have known it was me." His lip twisted into a sneer, though nothing that could rival his enemy's countless sneers.
"Bastard," he said again.
"Bastard!" a small voice shrieked.
Sirius blinked and glanced up. He was still alone on the landing.
"You dare to use that foul language in my territory," the voice growled as deeply as was possibly. "Draw, you knave."
Sirius frowned, glanced around, then dropped his book bad and stood.
"Hullo?"
"I said draw!"
Sirius turned finally and saw a tiny knight in the landscape painting. His small legs were scrambling uselessly as he tried to get onto the pony.
"I . . . have nothing to . . . er . . . draw?"
The knight stopped wiggling and dropped to the grass with a noisy clank. As Sirius watched, the pony turned it's head lazily toward the knight then returned to grazing.
"Nothing to draw?" the little knight shrieked unhappily, struggling to his feet and yanking his sword from the scabbard. "You trespass on my private lands and dare to tell me you have nothing to draw? By what strange magic do you come then, foul rouge? What scurvy wench sent you to do her bidding?"
Sirius snorted incredulously. "Scurvy wench?"
"Aha!" the knight screamed, waving his sword wildly. "'Twas the one from the picture left of the third floor staircase. You knows better! She cannot fool Sir Cadogan with her fruitless disguise." There was another dangerous wave of the sword. "Reveal yourself to me!"
Sirius snorted again, thinking of all the horrible things this little knight must see every time he demanded someone 'reveal themselves' to him.
"Listen, Sir . . . whatever, I'm not a scurvy wench. If I was, don't you think I'd be off admiring myself in a mirror and doing other inappropriate things to my newly aquired male physique?"
The knight paused to think about this for a long moment, leaning on the hilt of his sword. "I do believe you're right, my good fellow. That wench would be only too happy to be a true man for an hour or so." He glanced side long at Sirius. "But what a disguise it would have been! You are indeed a far cry from attractive."
Sirius stiffened. "Hey. I'll have you know that many of the girls in this school would die for a date with me."
Sir Cadogan nodded. "Of course, my good sir. Forgive the brutally honest slip of my tongue."
Sirius just glared.
"I still, however, cannot forgive the use of such foul language within my lands," Sir Cadogan said very seriously. "You must be punished."
Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Punished? For saying bastard?"
"NO!" Sir Cadogan shrieked, raising his hands to where Sirius supposed his ears would be under his helmet. "Such language cannot be tolerated. It must be obilterated completely! I thought you to be a good fellow but you're nothing more than scurvy cur!"
" . . . Right," Sirius said, pointing to his right. "If you don't mind, I'm just going to go now." He turned and made it way down the hall, hearing the knight clanking after him through the wall. A picture of four girls hung ahead and a moment later, the knight appeared at the corner of it, shaking his metal covered fist. He paused to cast a side long glance at the four blondes before they shrieked and ran for cover, hiding behind a tapestry on the wall in their picture.
"Come back and fight me you coward!" he growled.
Sirius just rolled his eyes and cast an apologetic glance at the girls in the picture.
"You flea-ridden mangy dog!" Sir Cadogan yelled after him. "That's right! I can smell the animagus on you and YOU. HAVE. FLEAS!"
Sirius stopped in his tracks, his shoulders squaring angrily and his breath coming out in short snorts through his nostrils. He turned very slowly and saw that Sir Cadogan was still sitting in the painting with the three girls, smiling gleefully at Sirius.
"I do not have fleas," Sirius said in a low voice. His eyes narrowed slightly and he glared at the knight. "I have never had fleas."
The smile slowly slid off Sir Cadogan's face as he heard the venom in Sirius's voice.
"Good sir," he tried suddenly, backing away and into the tapestry the three girls were hidden behind. "Good sir, please be reasonable."
"Reasonable?" Sirius asked, advancing slowly. "Why should I be reasonable you . . . you . . . jarring hell-hated harpy?"
Sir Cadogan gasped indignantly. "How dare you call me such a name you villainous beetle-headed lout!"
Sirius growled deep in this throat, then charged the painting. It went flying off the wall, girls still shrieking and he would swear he heard someone curse loudly.
"In the name of God, Gildy and all things holy and hot, what in the world was that for?" one of the girls shrieked, but Sirius ignored her cries as he grappled with the picture frame.
It was a silly fight, ridiculous even, he couldn't get at Sir Cadogan, the blasted knight was inside the picture, but he wanted to wring that little neck so badly. His fingers tore at the canvas, trying to reach inside and grab the knight by his tiny head and haul him out of the picture.
"You yeasty swag-bellied barnacle!" Sir Cadogan screamed tauntingly. He drew his sword again and waved it around, barely missing one of the girls with it.
"Rank mammet!" Sirius shot back, shaking the picture up and down. The girls squealed unhappily and Sir Cadogan went tumbling to the floor. He grabbed the tapestry the girls were hiding behind and it ripped off the wall, revealing all four to Sirius.
"Hi," one said shyly, waving a little before her friends dagged her away from the insane knight.
"Don't speak with that bawdy ill-nutured lout, scurvy wenches," Sir Cadogan said fierecely, struggling to his feet.
"Scurvy wenches?" one of the girls growled, but her friends pulled her backward.
"Now you've insulted them and me!" Sirius said threateningly, shaking the picture violently once more.
The girls shrieked and one swore again before Sirius grinned maniacally and tripped ripping the canvas right off the picture. He was quite close to succeeding when-
"Mr. Black!"
Sirius froze, then turned slowly to see McGonagall looming over him in that extra-threatening way she only reserved for him. He grinned weakly, then dropped the picture to the stone floor. Sir Cadogan went thumping to the ground with a magnificent clank and the girls muttered angrily between themselves.
"Hi, professor," he said, standingly slowly.
"What in the world are you doing sitting on the floor, laughing like a madman and ripping up a priceless picture when you should be in class?" McGonagall asked sternly.
Sirius shrugged helplessly. "I got lost?"
"Come with me," she demanded, crooking her finger. "I'll have Mr. Filch come and clean up the mess you've made. You, Sirius Black, are in more trouble than you've ever fathomed." Her eyes went to the picture. "Sir Cadogan, are you alright?"
"Fine, my dear lady," came the muffle answered.
"Girls?" she asked.
Four 'fines' came from the picture and one amazingly high pitched giggle followed.
Sirius frowned, tried to glance in at them, but McGonagall grabbed his ear and dragged him down the hall, whimpering the entire way.
Sir Cadogan stood up, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Mangy flea-ridden dog," he said vehemently, then brushed off his armour and began the search for his sword.
"I heard that!" came Sirius's angry cry down the hall. "I'll be back for you."
Strangely, Sir Cadogan didn't look the slightest bit worried.
End