A/N: Written for the 2013 Summer Fanfiction Olympics Competition (Round 1). Prompts used: "Water", "Tide", "Salt", "Never", "Midday", "Giddiness", "Yellow", "A Bucket"
The Wild Dog
He stood up, slowly and deliberately, stretching all four legs carefully. Trembling from snout to tail, he warily took a step forward, fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins, a mix of enthralling and terrifying. He sniffed the air; it smelled fresh and new. The dog stood with its hackles risen in a defensive stance, his ears pricked, over-alert and anxious.
Suddenly, very suddenly, he ran. The harsh midday sun warmed his cool skin like a flame that flickered in the depths of darkness, pulling him from the brink of oblivion. Adrenaline rushed through his blood as he ran on four paws across the ragged ground, soft wind and light rain hitting his matted black fur. His heart beat hard against his chest rather quickly, his body not used to such lucid free movement.
The sea – vast and almost never-ending, pale blue glistening against the bright yellow sun; it was his only path to freedom. Taking one last backward glance to the place where he'd spent the last twelve years, he breathed the fresh air in deeply, placing a paw carefully in to the water below. He was trembling as he waded further in to the water; a mix of giddy excitement and unquestionable fear.
The fresh sea water cooled his burning skin; the waves of the tide gently hit his body and relaxed his frantic thoughts. He began to swim and looked around the surroundings which captivated his mind. He was panicked suddenly; simply from the vast freedom he had, he was panicked not by being free but by ever going back to that place. He felt suddenly paranoid and swam faster against the tide but he tired quickly and his feeble heart beat faster than it had ever beat before.
As he swam forward again, the water splashed against him and he tasted the salt of the sea, it tasted novel and different and he enjoyed every second of this new sensation. The taste of salt, the feeling of the water and the sight of a bright, warm sun; it felt fresh and new and it filled him with a sense of joy he never thought he'd feel again.
In fact, he'd never thought he'd feel anything again. The creatures – he shivered involuntarily – they stole every emotion he had. He'd been completely devoid of any emotion – a shell of a person. They didn't steal your happiness, they stole your feeling. He thought he'd never escape, never have a chance to feel again.
As he swam further from the shore, a thousand emotions racked through his thin body at once. Suddenly, happiness, he was free, he was innocent and he was free, sadness, he'd never see his lost friends again, anger, at the traitor who murdered his friends, guilt, for believing his only remaining true friend to be the traitor. The emotions, set free from a cage, engulfed his mind and overwhelmed him until the only thing he could think clearly about was swimming, swimming away from Azkaban, swimming towards Harry, his godson, and Remus, his only true friend remaining.
Suddenly, there was a chirping sound. He swung his head round quickly and examined the scene. It was simply birds, flying overhead, illuminated by the bright yellow sun. He barked a laugh. It was strange, so very strange, to hear the sounds of nature, of the outside, the chirping birds, whistling of the gentle breeze in the air and the soft lapping of the waves. Never before had he been so fascinated by these simple sounds, soft and gentle, unlike the screaming, cackling and hysterical laughter he'd been used to hearing every day.
Lost in his thoughts, which were overwhelming his mind, it took him a second or two to realise he was no longer swimming. His paws padded against the new surface; sand. His paws sank gently in to the wet sand as he walked slowly across the beach, the sun beating down upon him again, like flames licking across his back, an immense sensation of warmth overcoming his body. The beach was empty and forlorn, the only thing to be seen was an abandoned bucket, rusted and worn. Eyeing the bucket with distaste, he walked further across the beach.
As he looked back towards the ocean, he finally realised it; he was free. He was free. Shining silver eyes examined his surroundings and brightness engulfed him, hope that'd long been extinguished was reborn from the ashes of freedom. And then the dog stopped; focussed its mind. There were three things he needed before this new life was stolen from him;
The Stag… He needed James and Lily's son to know what really happened the night his best friends were murdered.
The Wolf… He needed to make amends with an old friend, a friend worthy of the trust he mistakenly placed on another.
The Rat… He needed to commit the murder he was imprisoned for, the murder of the traitor who so mercilessly played his part in the murder of his own friends.
He ran again, this time his paws bounded against the padded grass. He barked a laugh as he rolled over; the soft grass felt unfamiliar yet memorable; a lost memory suddenly rekindled. He rolled over again, savouring the fresh air; feeling every bit as dog as he looked. Padding his paws against the dirt, he began to dig, digging his paws in the ground as he barked with laughter.
In that moment, he was nothing but a wild dog, running manic with the brutal joy of freedom.