Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. And probably some of the things you don't recognise are not mine, either. A cookie for everyone who spots who I'm quoting (besides JKR).

AN: Yes, it has been forever. No, I don't have an excuse. Yes, you ought to review.


Chapter 2 - From the Ashes

Sirius never noticed Fudge's abrupt departure from the ward. He was staring shocked at the Prophet's front page; his relief because of the temporary withdrawal of the Dementors and grim excuse of satisfaction from seeing how nervous he made the Minister were both swept from his mind. The unnaturally cheerful family was waving eagerly from the picture. And there, right there… It could not be… Except that it was. Him.

Sirius clenched his hands in fists so hard that his fingernails cut into his palms, drawing blood. The ever-so-familiar form was sitting comfortably on a boy's shoulder, looking like he did not have a worry in the world. Sirius snarled ferociously. Few would have recognised the bestial sound as belonging to a human rather than some vicious creature from Hell.

The Dementors were returning and the candles flickered and died. There was darkness once more, and suffocating coldness, but he saw the picture still, saw the article, saw him as if the front page had been etched on the surface of his eyes. A new wave of molten hatred dulled the edge of despair, though the memories flashed in his mind as always.

Two red headed men lay completely still. Dead. Cut down before any help had come. Outnumbered. They never had a chance. Betrayed. Fallen like heroes. Fallen. Dead.

An equally red haired woman collapsing against her tight-lipped husband, sobbing.

Wormtail was laughing. Dead bodies were scattered on a blown up street…

He blinked. No. That had become after.

Gideon. Fabian.

Weasley. He remembered them. Molly and Arthur Weasley and their children. And Wormtail. A pet.

"The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend."

"…Returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts…"

"…At Hogwarts…"

Wormtail would be at Hogwarts. Why did that matter, now? Why did the idea feel like fingers of cold dread closing around his heart? 23 July 1993. Merlin, had it been so long? Wormtail would go to Hogwarts. Why did he care?

A baby boy was crying all but lost in the arms of the Hogwarts gamekeeper.

"'m sorry, Sirius… There's nothin' ye can do… They're gone… He's to live with 'is Aunt an' Uncle… Dumbledore's orders…"

With shaking hands he embraced his Godson for the last time, gently wiping away the blood from the fresh wound on his forehead. Then he reluctantly handed him back to Hagrid.

"Take my motorbike, Hagrid, it'll be safer… Just take it, I- I won't need it anymore… Take him faster to-"

Hogwarts!

Wormtail was at Hogwarts. With Harry.

For the first time in his life Sirius did not have to battle against losing himself in the endless sea of sorrow and guilt brought about by the presence of the Dementors. He was no stranger to fury, either, but this time it was not born from helpless regret. This time he knew it was not too late yet. There was still time.

Old fear became one with the new fear and left no place for another thought. Prongs was gone, but Harry still lived, his live hanging by the thin thread that was Wormtail's mercy. And no one knew of it, no one but Sirius himself. His existence had a purpose again. He would not allow his Godson die, too. Something had to be done.

He had to do something. Anything.

x~x

AN: We are getting to the actual escape... much faster if you review.