Chapter two:

Sirius still felt like he was moving. Icy water tugged at his body, and every now and then a fresh wave crashed over his shoulders, sometimes his head. Gasping for the cold air tore at his raw lungs, and coughing on the sea water only made it worse.

The misery was the only way Sirius knew for sure that he wasn't dead.

It was a while before Sirius realized he was lying on a beach somewhere. He just lay there for a long time, unable to muster the energy to look around and get his bearings. In the back of his mind he hoped he had at least washed up somewhere hidden, but didn't have the energy to check. He didn't care. His limbs seemed to be melting into the sandy, rocky ground beneath him, and it was so bright. Even with his eyes shut, the morning light was causing him pain.

And the sea. Waves seemed to crash into the beach with unrelenting force, echoing in his ears. Even the calls of the gulls in the distance seemed amplified. Azkaban had this strange way of muting noise, and outside of it, everything just seemed unbearably loud.

For some unknown time, Sirius just lay there, reflecting on the miracle that he was alive at all. Then slowly realization began to set in. He had escaped Azkaban and washed up on a beach somewhere. The painfully bright light obviously indicated morning had arrived, which meant the Ministry would know he wasn't in his cell. Just how much time had elapsed since then? At least a few hours, surely.

A few hours.

That meant a few hours the Ministry had gained on him. They could be combing the shore fifty meters away right now.

This fearful realization was all it took for Sirius to drag his stiff arms into life, forcing himself up. He tried to move his legs underneath him, but they were so stiff from the cold water that they barely obeyed, and only in a painfully slow manner. The rocks felt strange beneath Sirius' numbed senses, and as he tried to move one arm forward, he collapsed under his own frail weight.

This was not going to be easy.

As he laid there and his senses sharpened, the cold seemed to grow more painful. Sirius knew he had to get up—not only to hide, but to somehow get dry. He would freeze to death if he didn't. But that thought alone wasn't enough to suddenly flood his exhausted body with a new burst of energy. He was just too tired, and too cold. Even his brain started to feel as though it was slowing down, and he was unsure of why he had escaped at all.

Sirius squinted across the beach, seeing nothing but rock and sand. The boulders in front of him were covered in white barnacles. Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog barking, immediately followed by a human voice. And they were coming closer.

Sirius swore in his head, too tired to say it aloud. He didn't have the strength to take off and run, but he could hold his transformation until the danger passed.

It was an old man, probably bordering his seventies, and some kind of sheep dog. The dog ran up to Sirius, barking the whole way. Sirius had no choice but to lay where he was in the receding tide and hope that they would just go away. The old man walked over with some difficulty, leaning heavily on a cane for support. He called for his dog multiple times, but it didn't budge. The damn thing stood over Sirius, sniffing wildly.

Go away.

"God damn it, Bonnie, get away from that dead dog," the old man huffed, coming closer.

The dog whined, circling around Sirius once more.

"I said get!" the man called. He was only a few feet away now. Sirius waited with his eyes shut, hoping for this intruder to be on his way. Then suddenly Sirius felt the tip of a cane jab into his side and he let out a low growl, pale eyes flashing.

"So you are alive," the old man muttered.

Sirius growled in response, hoping it would be enough to get the man to go away. No one wanted to deal with a difficult stray.

Except, apparently, the one person in all of England who happened to come across Sirius washed up on a beach.

The old man hobbled off and returned shortly thereafter with a man who must be his grandson. The younger man—early twenties by the looks of him—had wild sandy hair and a freckled face. He was likely a fisherman, too, by the looks of him. He was able to pick up Sirius in one swift movement; too quickly for Sirius to do much more than protest with a half-hearted growl. Sirius wanted nothing to do with these muggles, but in the back of his mind he realized it was as good an opportunity to get off the beach as any.

And so Sirius let them carry him into their small house. The grandson filled up a basin on the back porch with hot water before slipping Sirius inside. The hot water came as a shock to him; it was something he hadn't felt in twelve years. Sirius whined against the sudden sensation, but the grandson merely began to scrub his matted, dirty fur. There was sand and seaweed floating around the bath water within minutes, but the grime from Azkaban took longer to remove.

Meanwhile, the old man had been preparing some sort of liquid meat dish while the dog Bonnie watched on protectively.

"Should we call the vet over?" the grandson asked through the door.

"Nah. If he survives the night, he ought to be fine. Just needs some food and rest, sure as anything."

Sirius still didn't have the strength to walk after swimming half the night for dear life, and so the grandson had to carry a wet dog inside and set him down on the kitchen floor near the wood stove. The old man set down the soupy beef concoction and Sirius lapped at it desperately, making sure he got every last drop.

That's when the unfamiliar warmth overtook Sirius, and the world became a blur. He wasn't sure when he was awake or dreaming, or how many days had passed. It was all the same swirling mess. Sometimes he was a dog, and sometimes he was at school with James and the others. A couple of times James was in the stranger's house with him. It wasn't until he jerked awake on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night that he realized he still had a mission to complete.

"You can't forget Harry."

James was standing in the entrance of the kitchen, still twenty-one years old.

Sirius whined, trying to get out of the dream. But the clock on the counter still chimed away, and Sirius could hear the back door creaking in its hinges in the wind. It was impossible to tell if he was dreaming or not. Reality and his damaged mind had become interwoven.

His limbs still protested against the movement, but a few days' rest was enough for Sirius to get back on his feet. Moving quietly along the wooden floor, listening for any sign that the snoring in the other room had stopped, Sirius made his way to the back door. The plastic screen creaked in protest, but Sirius was gone before anyone would have woken up in time to see him.

The narrow road leading away from the house was dark, and Sirius followed it until he got to town. It was impossible to tell where he was, or even what direction to go, so late at night. He just ran, ran as fast as he could until he was well shot of the town and only empty pasture surrounded him.

It wasn't until the sky began to lighten with the threat of daybreak that Sirius finally came to a stop halfway through someone's cow farm. Exhausted, he let himself collapse under a tree.

"You need a better plan than this, mate."

Sirius jumped out of his skin, fur on end as he looked around. James was lounging in the grass nearby.

He was supposed to be a dream.

"You're just going to run wherever looks good?" he continued. "You ought to figure out where you're going, first."

Sirius laid back down, shutting his eyes. This wasn't real. James was dead.

"And you're a git," James replied to Sirius's thoughts. "What about food? Water? There's a creek about a quarter mile up the way—just follow the fence line. The old farmer there has an apple orchard, too."

Sirius turned so his back was to James. He was going mad.

"If you fall asleep now, you're going to have to wait until nightfall to sneak over there," James warned him.

Sirius sat up suddenly, glaring at the place where James was sitting, but he had gone.

He was truly going insane.

But hallucination or not, James was right. Sirius couldn't travel any further without water. He found the old stone boundary James had mentioned and followed it hesitantly. The sun was rising over the hills, and he felt wildly exposed, even disguised as a dog. He passed sleepy cows mooing in the early morning, ignoring their curious looks and just hoping he didn't run into the farmer or his dogs. He didn't think he had the energy to outrun anything.

Sure enough, after a few minute's brisk walk, Sirius heard the distinct sound of running water. The creek was shallow and ice cold, but Sirius drank like a man stranded in the desert. He cooled his raw paws in it as well, enjoying the relief the creek offered.

Once Sirius was sure he couldn't possibly drink anymore, he continued on. He jumped over the low stone wall and ran, following the creek for a half mile before it disappeared into the woods. In all honesty, Sirius really didn't know where he was going other than the single direction he kept repeating over and over in his head.

North.

He had to go north.

Sirius ran late into the night before he found himself on the outskirts of London. He had been running past the surrounding townships all evening, and had decided to stop into the city before heading to Hogwarts. Here he would be able to scrounge for food, and no one would question a stray dog roaming around the city.

Sirius hovered behind a handful of muggle restaurants near the dumpsters, waiting for the unassuming employees to throw out their bags. As soon as the disenchanted teenage bussers were back inside, Sirius pulled the bags out and tore them open, ravenously searching for fresh table scraps. He had to scare off a few stray cats here and there, but it didn't take long before Sirius had scrounged all he could stomach.

Next came the daunting task of finding shelter for the night. Sirius had been moving non-stop for a day and a half now, and his aching muscles protested with every movement.

But a constant thought nagged in the back of Sirius's mind.

A wand.

He knew Diagon Alley wasn't far, but was it worth the risk of entering an all-wizarding village?

Before Sirius could talk himself out of it, he made up his mind. Traveling to Hogwarts would be much easier—and quicker—with a wand. Besides, he would need some kind of weapon on him if he was going to kill Peter.

Sirius considered Ollivander's for the briefest of moments, but he was sure that the Ministry had some kind of security measure on the place. That would leave second-hand shops. The wand wouldn't be as predictable, or as obedient, but at least it would be a wand.

For a moment he felt a little guilty about breaking into some unfortunate shop and stealing, but then Sirius remembered that everyone thought he was a murderer. What did it matter if theft charges were added against him?

"Should you be going there?"

Sirius bolted a few steps before the familiar voice registered in the back of his foggy mind. He turned to see James following, several paces behind.

"I mean, it's teeming with wizards. Are you sure it's safe?"

Sirius shook his head, willing the hallucination to go away.

"I guess if you stuck to Knockturn Alley," James added, looking thoughtful in the dull lamp light of the city. "Everyone there's used to seeing peculiar shit, right?"

Sirius quickened his pace to a flat run, hoping to lose the image of James in the process. It was impossible to focus with his dead best friend following him around.

By the time Sirius had reached Diagon Alley, he hesitated. He wasn't sure what to expect, now that news of his escape had no doubt flooded the papers. Sirius knew that no one would recognize him in his dog form, but he couldn't help but feel like he was doing something incredibly stupid by strolling into the heart of a wizarding neighborhood.

Given the late hour, the streets were completely bare. Oil lamps lit the pavement every few meters, casting tall shadows that would be easy to hide in should the need arise.

Sirius made his way hesitantly down the empty streets, staying in the shadows as much as possible. After a few minutes he heard a rubbish bin tip over and he froze, pressing himself up against a wall. When nothing more alarming than a few hungry cats running by appeared for several long minutes, Sirius crept back out of the shadows, feeling a little stupid for his reaction. When he reached the street and rounded a corner, however, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

It was him. There were posters of him everywhere. In windows, on doors, plastered to walls, and in the form of scattered pamphlets. Below the picture of him was a notice and a special Ministry hotline number, directing people to call immediately if they had any information.

Once the initial shock of seeing his face everywhere wore off, Sirius reminded himself firmly that no one would recognize him in his dog form.

Sirius hurried through the dark streets without further incident, and felt a strange sense of security when he finally reached Knockturn Alley. At least here, witches and wizards were less keen to interact with the Ministry, no matter the circumstances.

It didn't take long to find the shop Sirius had been thinking about. He remembered passing it all the time as a child and marveled that it was still around. His parents considered it a "dirty shop run by a knut-less scoundrel," but it sold the sort of items thieves and everyday criminals might find useful.

Breaking in without a wand in his dog form was, of course, the tricky part.

Sirius made his way to the alley on the side of the shop, searching in the darkness for a grimy window. As soon as he spotted one, Sirius took a deep breath and looked around himself once more. Certain that no one would see him should they be out for a midnight walk, Sirius changed back into his human form for the first time since washing up on the beach.

He immediately went to work prying the pins out of the hinges of the window. It was difficult work, as the rust and grime had effectively sealed the pins in place. Eventually Sirius was able to free one, and used it to pry out the other. When this was done, Sirius was able to slide the window pane out of its rotten frame and slip inside the shop's basement.

Navigating the unfamiliar room in total darkness was both difficult and nerve-racking. Twice Sirius almost tripped over strange objects on the floor, and didn't find the stairs to the upper floor until he walked right into them. The main floor of the shop wasn't in much better state. The shelves were arranged in a strange sort of maze, making it difficult for Sirius to figure out where he was. He didn't dare to turn on a light, however, as that was a guaranteed way to attract attention.

With each minute that passed, Sirius's heart rate increased. It made him nervous to spend so much time in a wizarding shop, but he had to get a wand somehow. Finally, after nearly ten excruciating minutes, Sirius found a rack in the back of the shop boasting an assortment of used wands. Most were aged and well-worn, with chips and scratches embedded deep in the wood. Sirius was trying out the third one when a light near the entryway suddenly switched on.

Sirius reacted so fast he was later surprised he hadn't knocked anything over. He transformed back into his dog form, and crept behind an enormous wardrobe that stood against an equally grimy trunk. He pressed himself as far back and as low to the floor as he could, hardly daring to breathe.

At the front of the shop, the door opened and voices could be heard speaking quietly.

"…return, you know," said a hoarse voice in the darkness.

"Yeah, and what good would that do us?" countered a second.

"Because, you dolt," the man hissed, lowering his voice to a whisper. "When the Dark Lord finds out that we were loyal enough to bring him back, he's bound to reward us!"

Sirius froze for a moment, then slowly crept forward a few inches. The two wizards, dressed in clothes too heavy and dark for the weather, were leaning against the front counter. One of them had a long scar running down the side of his face.

"And just how do you reckon we'll do that?" countered the second, a rather short man with wispy brown hair. "Some magic potion to bring him back from the dead?"

The scarred man rolled his eyes, looking impatient. "You know as well as I do that he's not dead. Even Malfoy—"

The second man sniggered. "Malfoy?" he wheezed. "That turn-coat who went and crawled back to the Ministry? What's he got to do with any of this?"

"Well, traitors like him aren't going to want the Dark Lord back, now are they?" said the first, wagging a finger. "They know there's a possibility that the Dark Lord could come back, but they don't want to risk it, see. They betrayed each other left and right when they went crawling right back to the Ministry, so now there's no one to protect them unless You-Know-Who's a guarantee."

"And you think bringing him back will get revenge on people like Malfoy?"

The other man disappeared behind some kind of display, out of Sirius's line of sight. "Do you enjoy living like this? Lying low and living off a meager income while mudbloods and traitors run 'round, sullying your lineage? Taking your job, your money, and even your home while you barely scrape by to afford your flat? You know s'well as I that it's bound to happen sooner or later—someone is going to get tired of hiding and find a way to bring the Dark Lord back. It's just a matter of who gets to Potter first—"

Sirius felt the blood in his veins freeze.

"What does Potter have to do with it? You don't reckon that killing the boy will bring him back?"

"Killing him, no—but Potter's important to the process," said the man with the long scar.

"How?"

"Well, I'm not just going to spill the cauldron and tell you everything now—"

"No, I mean how are we going to get Potter?" the other man interrupted impatiently. "The troubles of finding the Dark Lord aside, how exactly are we supposed to get to Potter? Isn't he under Dumbledore's protection?"

"It's been taken care of—"

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's been taken care of!" the man hissed. "So what is it going to be? Are you in or out?"

The wispy-haired man sighed. "If I agree, what is it you're needing from me?"

"I need you to keep an eye out for a certain book. A contact is going to make a drop, and I need somewhere unassuming for it all to happen," said the other man, pulling out a slip of parchment from his pocket. "And you keep your mouth shut 'round Borgin, I don't trust that old bastard, he's too friendly with the likes of Malfoy."

The man took the slip of parchment and read it over before pocketing it. "When should I expect it?"

"I'll let you know," said his companion coolly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a heavy-looking purse that he dropped on the counter loudly. He threw on his cloak and left the shop wordlessly, leaving the wispy-haired man alone. The man looked dumbfounded, and it wasn't until the shop door closed securely that he hastily shoved the bag of money into his pocket. He watched the man with the scar leave through the shop windows before proceeding to lock up the shop. He turned the last light out on his way out the door, and Sirius listened for the sound of a key turning.

Sirius forced himself to lay hidden for several minutes after he heard the front door shut. When he was satisfied neither man was going to pop back in, he raced out from behind the mirror and back downstairs. He was in such a hurry to get out of London that he nearly forgot to place the window back in its frame.

Sirius tore off running, but then paused, a million thoughts racing through his mind. If ex-Death Eaters were already plotting to return Voldemort to power, then it was only a matter of time before Peter Pettigrew caught wind of it. And because he was perfectly positioned to hand Harry over, Peter would undoubtedly receive all the help he needed to do so.

Sirius had hoped to sneak into Hogwarts and simply kill Peter, but it looked like there were far more enemies to contend with. He needed to stop them, but how? The old members of the Order and the Ministry would lock him back up before he even got one word out. Sirius doubted whether even Remus or Dumbledore would believe him.

"What's it going to be, mate?" asked a sober voice.

Sirius looked up to see James leaning against a nearby shop window. His hands were in his pockets and his face was serious, masked with the same look he often wore during his last few months alive.

I have to protect Harry.