This chapter is Sirius-centric.
I hope you all like it and enjoy Sirius' break from Azkaban prison.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.
(SORRY FOR HAVING TAKEN IT DOWN! I noticed a few things that needed to be brushed up)
Anyways!
Enjoy~
Chapter III
A Sirius-ly Daring Escape!
All Hallows Eve was usually a time of celebration for both the Muggle world and its counterpart; the Wizarding World. However, tonight; while indeed a night for celebration, was also a night of tragedy. For a huge tragic moment had occurred within the dark dreary night of this sacred magical day. The Potters; a family that had been considered as one of the strongest of all had now come down to just one small member; for Jameson and Lillian Potter were now dead. Their bodies were now lying among the rubble and remains of what once was Potter Manor, in Godric's Hallow. All the while, small Hadrian James Potter laid within his untouched cradle, passed out, with but a scar, the shape of lightning on his forehead.
There was silence in the night, the dark sky was still, dark, and the atmosphere was filled with naught but the stench of death which haunted those who dwelled the streets. One young lord flew onto the Hollow upon his flying motorbike. Young Sirius Orion Black, age twenty, and recently made Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, landed on thew rubble and immediately jumped out of the bike, rushing into the house, or what was left of it. He made a mad dash for the stairs, having passed James' body, he would mourn later; right now, Hadrian had to be alright!
He reached the room, and there he saw Lily's dead body, tears swelled into his eyes and he had to rapidly blink them away he quickly paced towards the cradle. Looking inside it he couldn't help but smile bitterly at his cub within the confines of the many blankets. He picked the babe up, startling him awake, but once those emerald eyes met Sirius' light gray, they glinted in happiness and the babe's rosy pink lips bloomed into a full out smile, giggling and patting Sirius' stubbled face.
"Pa'foo! Pa'foo!"
Sirius could hold it no longer, he broke down and cradled Harry close into his chest, crying in pain for the death of Harry parents, crying for Harry, for Remus, and for himself; as all had lost something. James and Lily lost their lives and their only son in the process, Sirius lost his surrogate brother and sister, and Remus lost the same thing that Sirius did. Sirius then remembered something important, and his tears stopped immediately, he couldn't allow Harry to see him like this. His cub was smarter than people gave him credit for, he looked down and saw emerald eyes shining with unshed tears looking up at him.
Sirius couldn't help but smile somberly down at him, "I'm alright Prongslet."
"Pa'foo! Uaeh mama?"
"Mum's not here Harry, it's just you and I, alright Prongslet?"
The babe looked sullen for a small moment, before he seemed to nod up at him, smiling widely, showing his growing teeth at his godfather, "K, Pa'foo!"
Just then, Sirius heard the sound of footsteps behind him, turning around, with babe in hand and wand in the other, he got in a defensive position. However, he soon lowered the wand once he saw that it was none other than Hagrid.
"Sirius! Pr'fes'r Dumbledore's ask'd me ta take young Harry 'ere to 'im fer now."
"What? Hagrid, I can't do that, my godson needs me, tell Dumbledore that I'll take care of him now!"
" 'e said tha' young Harry'll be safe th'r' fer tha mom'nt."
Sirius looked at Harry, unwilling to let go, but he still had so much to do before he could completely take care of Harry and raise him himself. He reluctantly handed the childe over to Hagrid and kissed his forehead, before gently rubbing his hand on the babe's head gently allowing him to go back to sleep.
"Take my bike Hagrid. I have things to take care off. However, tell Albus that the moment I am done with my affairs, I will take Harry back with me."
Hagrid nodded and did as Sirius said. He fastened the young lad onto his chest and took the motorbike up into the skies. Sirius watched them go, before he snarled and apparated to the magical signature that he finally managed to get a feel for. Just outside of a small London street, in a normal muggle neighborhood, appeared an enraged young Lord Black, snarling and spitting for vengeance at the wronging that had been done to his family. He immediately transformed into Padfoot, before he took off running, sniffing the scent and feeling the magicks of that rat bastard traitor.
Finally, he found him, just outside of a brothel, the short, height challenged rat faced bastard was out parading! How dare he do that to Lily and James? How dare he CELEBRATE? Padfoot snarled before he pounced on the man. Peter Pettigrew was stunned for only a moment when he saw the large black dog that could easily be mistaken for a Grim, before he squeaked in fear and transformed himself into the rat that he was.
The chase ensued, before finally Pettigrew transformed back into his human self, cowering against a wall, looking at the dog in fear. Padfoot had been snarling at the coward the whole way, once he had managed to corner the traitor, he transformed back into Sirius and slammed Pettigrew into the wall by the scruff of his shirt collar. He pointed his wand point at him and looked up into the eyes of Wormtail, gritting his teeth in anger, while the other looked at him with pure horror and terror, sweating profusely at the vengeful man.
The wand tip began to glow as he glared up at Peter, a curse on the tip of his tongue, however, when he opened his mouth, he managed to hold back enough to demand an answer from Pettigrew, "Why?! Why did you betray them?!"
"What could I have done Sirius?! The Dark Lord is too powerful, he'd have killed me!"
Sirius slammed the man into the wall yet again, "Then you should have let him! It's what I'd have done!"
Pettigrew's eyes were now wide in fear, as he looked down at the somewhat deranged man before him, "Even so, he would have found them later! He is all powerful! We are on the losing side Sirius!"
Sirius' wand glowed yet again, this time a curse did come out of his mouth, aiming at the traitor's face, "Mutilo!"
Pettigrew's screams were heard through the night, gaining the attention of many as the small neighborhood's lights turned on and began to walk outside to see what the commotion was about. Pettigrew screamed as his face's skin began to be cut up in many pieces, the blood gushing out in large amounts. Sirius then decided to stop the small moment of torture and hissed at the traitor's face, " Finite!" The large gashed stopped appearing, however the blood was still rushing out, and Sirius looked with vengeful glee as he saw the man's face almost literally fall off, the skin flapping into the wind, showing bone and muscle.
He waved his wand again and muttered a quick spell, "Consuo."
The face began to be sown back up, however Sirius moved his wand in jagged motions, allowing Pettigrew's face to become disfigured horribly and smiling all the way. He then cleaned up the traitor's face by using the aguamenti and a heating charm, burning Pettigrew's face, further injuring him. He then pointed his wand at Pettigrew's bits and looked at the man's face, smirking darkly at him.
"Secare Lente!"
The front of Peter's pants stained in red as his once loud blood curdling, guttural, hoarse screams which filled the air soon became nothing but small squeaks of horror. Sirius then proceeded to repeat the sewing spell yet again, and muttered a quick healing spell afterwards, before he murmered, "Incendio."
Peter's voice was now hoarse and his throat was hurting from the overuse of it, he could do nothing with the torture that Sirius was giving him. Sirius then set his face on fire, before he cooled both places off and allowed the traitor to slump onto the ground from the wall, glaring at him all the way. He then snarled and backhanded his very hard, hard enough to dislocate Wormtail's jaw. He healed the jaw, only just, as it was clearly poorly healed, making it painful for Pettigrew to even open his mouth.
Just then, more magical signatures filled the air close by, Sirius turned over and that was all that Pettigrew needed, for he pounced Sirius, and took his wand, before he pointed it at the muggles that had been closing in on them, and blasting the entire street, killing all. He then looked down at Sirius' face, glaring at the young lord, before he cut his thumb and yelled, "Why did you betray them Sirius?! Why did you betray Lily and James?!" He transformed into Wormtail afdter yet another blasting curse on the street, killing more muggles, and he dropped his thumb on the ground, the wand laying right next to it.
Sirius could do nothing but stare as the rat got away, he had become surrounded by aurors very quickly, Crouch snarling at him that he was arrested, and would be sent to Azkaban effective immediately. All Sirius could do was laugh, but it was a loud, hollow, broken laugh, with just the smallest amount of insanity laced with it. The last sight he saw was Crouch's face, and the lat thing he heard was his laughter before all went black, just like his last name.
When he awoke, he found himself in none other than the cold floor of a cell, with Dementors gliding by, taking their pleasure in his horrored face, before they began to devour parts of his soul and emotions, just to torture him until he died, or went completely broken. Sirius could do nothing but laugh aloud within the confines of the most horrible prison in the world; Azkaban. Many throughout the island heard the echoes of laughter that reverberated throughout the walls of the maximum security prison, and they all couldn't help but shudder at the insanity that was mixed with it.
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Sirius Orion Black; now age thirty-two, and Lord to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, best friend and surrogate brother to the late Jameson Charlus Potter; Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter awoke in his cold, freezing cell. His dull light gray eyes blinked in the darkness, squinting trying to regain their vision, or at the very least become accustomed to it. He stretched as he stood, working on his sore muscles and kinks throughout his severely underfed, malnourished, beaten, and broken body. He couldn't help but grin, slightly insane mind you, as he saw the Dementors pass by, they always tried so hard to get to him, but Padfoot would take care of himself.
He sat in the furthermost corner of his small cell, looking out of the small window that was in it. He saw the gray skies, with dark clouds that boomed with thunder, and flashed with lightning—the waves of the beach splashed violently against the sand, withering the earth into nothingness, so cruel, so violent. The sea was not blue but it was instead gray, perhaps filled with the many souls and bodies of those damned to life in this prison. He transformed into Padfoot once he saw a few Dementors pass by; long ago he'd learned that Padfoot was unaffected by them, and they seemed to be blind when it came to animals, they could not sense them at all. He put his head on his paws and went back to looking out through the window at the scenery yet again—it was as peaceful as life in Azkaban had been able to get really.
It wasn't until a good few minutes later that he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards his cell, the sound echoed throughout the hall, slow, agonizingly slow, as it neared him; he went back form Padfoot to Sirius. The door opened, and in stepped Bartemius Croush along with Minister Cornelius Fudge, who held a paper in his hands, and last but certainly not least; although Sirius wished it were so—Lucius Malfoy. Fudge seemed to regard him as nothing but an insect, he then flipped his paper over and began reading it.
Sirius and Fudge had a strange relationship; they despised each other no doubt about that, yet they held no hostility. Fudge would always visit him last in his routinely Azkaban visits, and would read the paper before passing it off to Sirius when he'd asked for it. If anything, Fudge was merely the link that kept Sirius up with what was currently happened or what had currently happened within the world that he had been cast out off and thrown into prison by; with no fair trial mind you.
"Alright there Black?" asked the minister, his voice dull, bland, uninterested, uncaring, and surprisingly; cruel.
"How's the wife, Fudge?" he shot back.
His voice was hoarse, throat dry, and lips chapped from lack of liquids and use throughout the many years in the prison; twelve if he'd counted right based on the tallies he'd made on the wall throughout his lovely stay at this death resort. He couldn't help but snort at that thought, as well as Fudge's reaction to his question.
Fudge bristled, before he tossed the paper at him, and turned on his spot, leaving the room followed by Crouch, who'd snarled at Black, and Malfoy, whom had merely sneered at him although he too bristled once Sirius bit his thumb at him.
Sirius hummed to himself a lively tune as he skimmed through the paper, hoping to find something about his godson. He'd already had ripped the relevant things the articles of the past had said; he knew most were complete and utter bullshit; as the muggles would say—at least the Americans, he believed. He had ripped the articles in order to get an idea as to how his godson had grown up, what young man he'd become. He couldn't help but feel proud for some things, and snarl at the Prophet for others. He turned the pages a few more times, before something caught his eyes—or rather, someone. He narrowed his eyes, as unused they may be, he knew they weren't failing him at this moment. While he was glad that the Weasleys had won the lottery and gone to Egypt, he was immediately processing the picture clearly.
His eyes had traveled to where his brain had commanded them to, the youngest boy; in the middle, holding a rat—a rat, that was missing a toe; how coincidental. Upon closer inspection, he also managed to see that the rat was exactly the one he knew from experience. He snarled, viciously ripping the paper. He needed to get out, needed to get him. He stood and paced around his cell a few times, going to and from, wearing down the floor perhaps. All the while; his mind was going through many scenarios. Azkaban was, supposedly, impenetrable; from both inside and outside. None had gotten in, and none out, in its long lived history.
Yes, Azkaban was indeed the greatest prison any ministry could hope to have, even used by foreign ministries to house their most dangerous criminals at times in the past, he should know he helped turn in a few of them in here, they were his cellmates after all. Suddenly, it became cold, the air was frigid, and the walls were covered in frost, as were the bars on his cell. He knew these signs, knew what they were, who they were. He immediately transformed into Padfoot as the Dementors passed by yet again, hoping to have tortured him, however, they were extremely disappointed, if they could feel that is. He saw them hiss at one another at the absence of their favorite toy. A thought struck him suddenly; almost as suddenly as Lily's Stinging Hex.
Sirius Black; a human, is vulnerable to them. However, Padfoot; a dog—an animal; is not…
He knew it was too good to be true, that it was just a freak coincidence that he'd been allowed by a stroke of fate. He decided to try again tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow would be best, for if it was true, he'd be out of here tomorrow, and he'd be able to reach his godson the day after that. The black dog kept thinking to himself, contemplating his plan, and his new found information—which he hoped to be true, as he dozed off within his cell, slowly turning back into Sirius.
Tomorrow came sooner than Sirius thought, and he'd already missed the first visit by the dementors, the next one would have to make up for it. He went about his day as usual; staring at the lovely scenery of AzkabanIsland, as well as redecorating his prison cell, and adding yet another tally on his wall, smiling all the way. He even ate lunch today, which surprised the warden a great deal; because he'd actually finished it all. Sirius had sneered at the warden behind his back when he'd taken the tray back. It was disgusting, the food that is, but he knew that he'd need all the energy he could muster for today. He had to stay strong, had to kill a rat, but most importantly; he had to see his cub.
The second and last visit by the dementors, he'd already felt the cold air, and their dreaded presence. He grit his teeth as they came into his cell, they made a noise, as if excited that their toy was here. With haste, they glided towards him, and began to suck away at his essence and soul, he grit his teeth to not yell out loud. The dementors were having a field day however, greedily and gluttonously having their feast upon this poor man's expense. However, their feast stopped abruptly, for in the human's place, stood an animal.
Padfoot, weak and drained, stared up at them, leering, to see if they would do anything to him. They bent down to him, which caused him to stiffen, maybe the plan was flawed, maybe they could eat animals! Maybe—his thoughts stopped abruptly, as the dementor before him suddenly stood, and looked around the small cell door, it glided, along with the other, around the cell, searching for their food. Padfoot, seeing the chance to leave, took it, and ran straight out the door, as fast as his old, sore paws could carry him.
He made it down to the last floor, he was going to make it, he'd gone without meeting any aurors for the moment. He stopped shortly after having passed by the warden's office just a few feet away from it. He turned around and went back to it, he turned back to Sirius and opened the door. Switching back to Padfoot, he stepped in, glancing around at the room calculative, searching for anything that he could use should the warden awaken. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the fat, balding wizard asleep on his desk, with his wand out before him for all to see. So he grabbed transformed back to Sirius, and took the wand from the desk.
He looked at it, his cool gaze resting upon the wooden instrument, before he poked the warden, causing him to awaken. The warden, Markus Arlos, started but was soon stopped by the wand pointed at him. He found himself frozen, unable to speak, or move. His eyes stared up into Sirius' cold gray eyes, and Sirius relished in the horror he saw reflected in them—the fear. He then waved the wand, and his clothes had been exchanged with the warden's own. He looked down at them, as if appraising them, before he gained a look of disgust; he might have been a Gryffindor, but he was a pureblood lord, and a Lord would not stand for being dressed in commoner's clothes—but they'd have to do.
He then pointed his wand at the warden, his voice hoarse, but with edge, "Destiteritis Absconditus Tuis!"
The curse was not dark, and it was approved by ministry use, it was but a lighter; by lighter they meant grayer, version of the Imperius curse. The warden's eyes became a misty hue, and he immediately began to spill every secret that he knew about.
"There is a boat…on the easternmost dock of the island…It heads east, towards Britain…the wards on the island require my hand print, as well as my magicks and voice to identify leave...even mine. There are no aurors stationed there, as it is a privately owned dock, only I or higher up ministry personnel is allowed…The dementors do not go near it…"
Sirius grinned darkly at the warden. He stopped the curse's flow and relinquished his small hold on the warden's will as well as his mind. He then pointed the wand at the warden again and shot a small powered cutting curse at his fat neck. The effect was immediate, and Sirius summoned a small bottle, filling it up with the blood of the bastard. He then murmured yet another spell.
"Da Pugio." A small silver dagger appeared before him. He gripped the hilt, good and strong, before he grabbed the dead carcass' hand, and cut it off in one clean swipe. He tucked the hand in the robe, he'd healed the bleeding and cast a heating charm, on it. The last part was the tricky one, he knew what he had to do, but it was a borderline dark spell in the ministry spectrum. He then cut his wrist, just a small incision, and placed it on the small puddle of blood from the dead body.
"дайте мне магию моего поверженного врага, и включить их как свою собственную, да будет так!" it was an ancient Russian ritual, one that would take the dead enemy's magicks and incorporate the ritual user's own magical core. The effects were that the magicks aura from the dead enemy would surround the user for a short amount of time, which was bad back then in the old times of the Old World, where people relied on aura readers.
The ritual done, he cleaned himself up, before he stepped towards the other side of the dead body. He then grabbed the left sleeve of his old prisoner uniform, and ripped them off. There, on the dead warden's forearm, was the Dark Mark. He glared at it in disgust, he then grabbed the man and put him out on the floor in front of the desk, before he began to draw a circle; a transmutation-ritualistic circle; the type of magicks he was about to do next was a mixture between alchemy and rune-magicks. He proceeded to draw the sign of the god Loki; a pair of Ouroboros snakes, entwined with one another. Sirius then drew the Old Nordic Runes for exchange, face, forge, burn, and body.
Finally he cut some of his long hair off and threw it on the circle, before slitting his wrists and dabbing his hands in the blood of both his and the dead body, before he placed them on the circle, releasing his magicks throughout every carefully drawn design. He then roared, in a voice that was not his own, "svíða líkami, smíða flokkr!"
The carcass began to burn, so did his body. However, the flames were merely burning away the bodies, to recreate, or exchange them. It was an old ritual, one that was only in the libraries of the Blacks, and perhaps the Potters as well. None knew about it, none ever would. The ritual was one that would allow the Russian ritual that Sirius had used to be completely failsafe. It had no name; this ritual, it was simply one of the few alchemic-rune-blood magicks rituals of old that was kept by a few small groups of people. Sirius finally felt the change occur, he saw the body of the warden become his old body; a dead Sirius, while his own body felt plump, fat really.
The ritual circle stopped glowing, signifying the end. It started dispersing; however, all that remained was a small hourglass, with Loki's symbol on it. He had exactly one hour to leave. He immediately strode out of the office, closing it and warding it completely, it would occupy the aurors for a good while. He then made a run for it, or at least as fast as a fat man can run; surprisingly being quicker than Sirius had given him credit for.
The easternmost dock of the island was a good mile away, all he needed was an hour, perhaps more really, but his actions had been enough to warrant no interference until he was at the very least halfway to England; at the very least that is, but anything could happen, he knew this. He grit his teeth as he made a dash for it, he even used the hastening charm, but even then, that did not help much.
He looked down at the hourglass, it was halfway done. He then decided to use the last rune that he'd written on the forehead of the carcass back in the warden's office, the old Welsh runes for memories, thoughts, and exchange. He then roared into the night, "Gadewch i mi i weld atgofion o farwolaeth!"
He stopped running abruptly at the splitting headache he received from the rush of memories, he had stopped in the middle of the forests of Azkaban, beginning to sort through the memories and discarding the rest that were useless to him. Finally he saw the image of a boat, one that was the one he needed. He then sucked in a breath and apparated towards the image.
A loud crack resonated the atmosphere around the docks, Sirius had finally made it to his destination; or at least one of them. He then began to take out the hand out of his robe and placed it on the tree trunk. The rituals he had used, while they gave him the magicks of his enemy as well as the solid appearance and memories, did not give him his blood nor his DNA, therefore the fingerprints that had come with the transformation, would not work, magick was picky like that. He uncorked the small bottle he had on him and threw the blood against the tree trunk as well, before finally concentrating and separating what little foreign magicks he had that hadn't assimilated into his own core yet and allowed them to wash over the hand he was holding against the trunk, making the edges and rigid openings called fingerprints, glow against the trunk.
He felt the wards tear down, and he threw himself on the boat, there he untied it from the dock and shouted the spell that would make it move, "üzmək!"
The boat glowed for a moment, before it began to move against the currents, Sirius felt a small prod in his mind, as if the boat was asking where to move to. Calmly he responded with the spell, "paskirties: Anglija."
The boat set sail immediately towards England. All the while, he couldn't help but think, that maybe, just maybe, things would be smooth sailing from now until he'd reach the United Kingdom. He looked down at his hourglass, it was now at its last few grains. Once the last grain dropped, it dissolved into blood, and Markus' body burned, revealing the body of Sirius Black, whom had smirked the whole time. Sirius then decided that he'd finished with wearing these robes, he'd rather wear something as degrading as the prisoner uniform than this. He tore the left sleeve off and waved his wand, replacing his "new robes" with his prisoner uniform, he then tucked the wand into the holster he had kept from the warden.
Back in the office of the warden; the dead body of Sirius Orion Black glowed, and burned, before it revealed the dead, grotesque, fat body of Markus Arlos; ex warden of Azkaban Prison. Outside the door, the aurors had finally been able to tear the wards apart, and once they rushed in, the moment they opened the door, a rune on it shined, and the room, but only the room, exploded. Why did it explode? Simple, the runes would explode only, and only if those with a dark taint on their souls would walk into the room. Now, in the room, there were a total of ten bodies, with their left forearms exposed, and a Dark Mark glowing darkly in the light of the room.
Sirius had been lying down on the deck, trying to regain his energy and depleted magicks. The small "prank" he'd left in the office had sucked up most of his reserves, he needed to take a breather, but he also needed to keep his mind sharp, or else the adrenaline he had gathered up until now would simply vanish, and his body would become unresponsive. Suddenly, he heard a blast. Immediately, he regained his bearings and looked upwards, there were aurors mounted on brooms, throwing lethal spells at him. He couldn't help but smirk at them and at himself, clearly he was proud of it all. He had broken out of the supposedly impenetrable Azkaban; from both out and in, and now the personnel within the island wanted to keep this quiet. He began throwing curses, blasting; impediments, cutting, and really anything he could wound them with, in rapid succession.
He was doing splendidly for being outgunned thirty to one, but he was not horribly outclassed. Many forget that he was once the greatest duelist that Wizarding Britain had ever had, even rivaling Filius Flitwick, for their many duels had always ended in ties. However, the aurors decided to play it smart, and began blasting the boat, which Sirius grit his teeth at, he managed to reflect a few, but he was quickly growing tired, and his magick reserves were depleting rapidly. He knew that he wouldn't last much longer, so he did the next best thing. He concentrated on a big amount of his magicks pool before he threw raised the wand into the air.
"zničit mé okolí!"
A huge ball of fire blasted from the tip of his pilfered wand, and it flew upwards into the sky, where it blew outwards, making it rain with the flames. However, the rain of fire was not all, for each flame had a small powered blasting hex concentrated with it. Therefore, whatever they touched not only burned, but was blasted as well. Sirius, having no choice, made the bubble head charm and dove into the water, where he began to swim underneath it, while the aurors were distracted with firing at the boat or conjuring shield from his spell. He then pointed his wand out towards his feet, which he was paddling with, and casted a non-verbal haste charm, which allowed him to swim faster.
It wasn't long before he reached the English mainland, where he began to make a run for it in the guise of Padfoot, wand in his mouth, making a dash towards the only place he knew for certain that his godson would be residing in; Surrey.
However, he soon realized the he was becoming tired, and his adrenaline had begun to leave him. His eyes had started to droop. He tried to stay awake, but even he knew that it would be impossible, after having used so much magicks for one night alone. He growled frustratedly, startling a few people he'd walked by, before he made it for an alley, where he laid down, and closed his light gray eyes for the night. The last thing he heard, before he went to sleep—or at least, what he swore he heard that day; was the voices of Lily and James.
Well done Siri!
Black! While I do agree with James, you should be more careful!
Oh Lily-flower, leave him alone…he deserves rest.
You're right…well done…brother.
That night, for the first time in many years, he managed to sleep with a smile on his face, as he dreamt of naught but the good old days, where he and James would drag Remus with them on pranks, and they'd even get Prongslet in on the fun; which resulted in Lily scolding them all, even if she smiled while doing so.
Meanwhile, in the planes of Scotland, within the cozy office of the headmaster of Hogwarts, one of the most ancient creatures on the planet, Fawkes; a royal phoenix, burned anew, as a symbol of new life, and a new cycle that had begun. The newly flamed chick chirped softly to himself.
;Well done, Son of Black.;
He then went back to preening himself clean, softly singing a happy tune that brought joy about within the room he currently resided in. He knew that he should tell his young charge, but perhaps it would be best for him to get his own answers. That, and the face as well as the reaction on the childe's face would be worth the wait and possible temper tantrum that he'd no doubt garnered. He trilled softly, in a way that suspiciously made it seem like he chuckled, before tending to itself, all the while releasing his magicks into the room, continuing to preen.
Morning came soon for Sirius, he had no time to perspire, it would take him a good while to get to Surrey, as he was currently in Portsmouth. If he made haste, it would take him at the very least 16 hours; walking of course. He had to make it faster. He trotted about, and passed a few nearby stores and saw the time, it was 6:58. He'd only managed to sleep four bloody hours. He then began to run towards the nearest alley yet again. Finding one, he ducked in, before he transformed back and took his wand out.
"Tempus!"
31 July 1993 7:00, came out from the misty creation of the spell. He grit his teeth. Sixteen hours. He'd manage, he had to. Quickly he transformed back into Padfoot and began running as fast as he bloody well could. He ran and ran, and when he'd get tired, he'd switch back to Sirius and apparate as far as he could. He had no time to respite, or at least he gave himself none as he continued on his journey to Surrey. It wasn't until 15:45 that he made to respite within Bordon. There, he transformed into Padfoot and began to scurry for food out of the garbage; his underfed stomach could no longer take the neglect. He growled whenever any dogs came and tried to take his food, even fought a few of them as Padfoot, forgetting that he was a wizard at times.
Finally, he had managed to gain enough energy and residual magicks to apparate to Farmham by 17:14. There, he began to meditate and respite more, for he had decided that the distance was good enough for him to do something stupid and completely Sirius Black. He began to build up as much magick as he could within himself, his core had yet to replenish, for it was huge even before he assimilated the magicks of Markus Arlos into his core, making it even larger than before. He breathed in and out, calming his nerves, and clearing his mind, before he opened his eyes, which seemed to glow in the night.
He stood up and began to picture the destination clearly in his mind. He'd decided to apparate in the woods near Surrey, there he'd run towards Harry's current residence. With a loud crack that resonated throughout the alley he'd been in, he was gone, and behind him in his place, were runes which seemed to glow, making the magicks in the air dissipate and go back to the nothingness of magick, before they themselves dispersed into the particles of blood; Sirius' blood, that they had been sire from, before said blood—too vanished into nothing. It left no trace, and it covered all tracks, no aurors would follow.
As soon as his world stopped spinning, he collapsed onto his knees, panting and gasping for air. He was sweating profusely as he tried to regain his breathing, and tried to not pass out from what little amount of magick reserves he had in his core. He looked around, before he muttered yet another Tempus charm.
31 July 1993 17:48. He grit his teeth, apparently it had taken him longer to apparate than he'd originally thought it would have. He then leaned against the trunk of a tree and began to breath steadily, calming himself. His eyes were upward, glancing at the sky as his sweating continued. He couldn't help but let a smile appear on his face. The smile soon turned into a chuckle. The chuckle soon after that turned into full blow belly laughter. He'd done it! He'd done it!
Azkaban might have been unbreakable, but clearly they had never had Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black as a guest! They never broke him! Never! None could break him! Not even that worm Pettigrew. He snarled at that thought. He'd kill that rat bastard, he'd even re-grow the bastards bits and castrate him all over again and laugh while doing so! He'd have to bide his time, yes; bide time. However, none of those things were as important as his godson; Hadrian. He could manage a small nap, he'd see his cub soon enough. This was the second time in twelve years that he'd been allowed to dream peacefully, with a smile on his face, as his dreams took him down his memories.
The freezing air hit him head on causing him to yelp in surprise. It was bloody summer and it was this temperature?! He gritted his teeth in frustration, before he did the Tempus charm again and saw the time; 23:35. His eyes widened and he immediately turned into Padfoot as he ran like a mad dog into town, looking for his cub all the way. He could not believe this happened! He continued running as fat as his worn paws could carry him.
At least the cold breeze was no problem anymore, seeing as he now was covered in fur. Arriving at the home of the Dursleys he caught a scent, one that he'd know anywhere. He woofed happily and wagged his tail before he trotted towards the way the scent was coming from, the park near the Knight Bus' stop. He hid himself in the bushes, and transformed back into Sirius while he cast the time charm again; 23:54. He looked around, surveying the area, before he spotted someone that made his breath get knocked out of him. His eyes widened and became filled with tears, that he had to rapidly blink away least he give away his position and startle his godchild.
Hadrian had James' looks, in fact he looked exactly like James at that age! A bit on the short height; but exactly like his father! And his eyes! Lily's eyes!
Padfoot could take it no longer. He had to get closer! He had to greet his godchild. He just bloody well had to! He growled a bit to himself, to allow himself to calm down, but that was the wrong thing to do, for he immediately had two sets of eyes gazing at his direction. He was surprised to see a snake and an owl be with his godson. Well, the owl wasn't really surprising, the snake sure as hell was though. He was even more surprised when they screeched or hissed at his position in the bushes, even Harry had his wand at the ready, and a curse at the tip of his lips. He then decided to do something Gryffindor-ish yet again.
He leapt out of the bushes and ran straight into Harry, pounced on him and licked his face, barking and wagging his tail happily at his godson. His godson chuckled and began to pet him, he never thought that this would be happening yet again, he could hardly control himself anymore. He licked his face more and became even more excited at all that was happening to him at once. Harry continued to pat his head, and Padfoot nuzzled against it, but then he saw Harry turn and look at his pets.
Soft hisses soon filled the air.
Parseltongue. Harry was a parseltongue! Bloody FUCKIN Hell!
He yelped in surprise at it, causing Harry to look at him strangely. Sirius was processing this rather quickly, perhaps due to the excitement of finally meeting his godson after twelve bloody years in prison does the work for you. He could care less, Harry was his godson, and he'd accept the Parseltongue ability. Hell, he had no right to judge, the magicks he had used to escape Azkaban were questionable, or at the very least the foreign ones were. He looked upwards and saw his cub's emerald orbs staring at him calculative, but he could care less, he began to nudge his hand and whine. He wanted attention!
His godson's eyes met his, and he licked his face, slobbering all over, giving him a cow lick just like he used to when Harry was but a babe. He even scrunched his nose like he used to! Padfoot's tail wagged faster at that. He then saw Harry begin to open his mouth, and the word that came out, caused him to freeze in shock, as many emotions ripped through his body.
"Padfoot…"
Padfoot couldn't believe it! He remembered. He remembered! He barked and woofed in excitement while licking Harry's face. All the while, his thoughts were on finally having been reunited with the only family that he cared for. He ran in circles for a bit, before jumping up to the empty space next to Harry's other side that wasn't occupied by his animals and nuzzled up against him.
That moment, that one moment, when his godson wrapped his arm around his neck and patted his head and scratched his ears—became a moment that Sirius would treasure forever; it was also the moment that his past guilts and weight on his shoulders and chest finally seemed to leave him.
And all was right once again…
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
It was fun to write! I mean, I really liked Sirius using dark/gray spells(even if they were made up).
Hope you all enjoyed it!
NOTE: The Spells Used:
Mutilo; Latin; Mutilate
Consuo; Latin; stitch or sew together
Secare Lente; Latin; Slowly cut
Destiteritis Absconditus Tuis; Latin; Relinquish your secrets
Da Pugio: Latin; Give Dagger
дайте мне магию моего поверженного врага, и включить их как свою собственную, да будет так: Russian; It was supposed to say, "Give me the magic(ks) of my dead enemy and assimilate it as my own, so mote it be! (But it's different in google translate)
Gadewch i mi i weld atgofion o farwolaeth: Welsh; Let me see memories of death
üzmək: Azerbaijani; sail
paskirties: Anglija.: Lithuanian; destination; England
zničit mé okolí: Czech; destroy my surroundings
Old Nordic Runes/Words
svíða líkami, smíða flokkr: Old Nordic; burn body, forge man
svíða: Burn
líkami: Body
smíða: Forge
flokkr: Men/man (body of men)
PS: Hopefully this will be the only chapter that uses line breaks, I'm not a big fan of them.
Til Next Time,
ExMxR
NOTE: For the whole time that Sirius was apparating/running across England(not really across but you get the point) I hope I have not messed anyone up, I tried to use google maps to help and all that x.x
Constructive Criticism is always welcomed and all that.