Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter then I'd be able to afford my own car, a new laptop and an expensive holiday somewhere really hot. As I currently have none of those things and I'm stuck here in rainy old England I think we can safely assume I'm not JKR.

Chapter 4

Harry Potter was missing and it was all his fault, Ron Weasley thought morosely. If he'd only been more alert he would have surely noticed a silencing charm going up and then he could have… could have… well he could have done something.

It was too late now. Harry was gone, most likely taken by Sirius Black and all he was doing was sitting here feeling sorry for himself. If things were reversed and Ron had been taken Harry wouldn't just be sitting around. He'd have been out there looking with the others. Of course, Harry wouldn't have let Ron be taken in the first place.

Hermione kept trying to tell him that obviously Harry couldn't have or he would have saved himself, but she was wrong. Harry was always quick to defend others, but slow to help himself. Harry would have saved Ron.

He'd been missing for over a day now. It had been either late Friday night or early Saturday morning he'd been taken although no one had noticed until he'd failed to show up for the game. Even then they'd just thought him missing until they'd found his glasses lying beside his bed, then they'd started calling it a kidnapping.

That evening a special edition of the Daily Prophet had announced the news to the wizarding nation and everyone had gone on high alert looking for the missing teen, at least that's what Ron had been told. He and Hermione were being kept well out of it, as if it weren't their best friend out there, alone with a psycho, possibly hurt and being tortured and being taken who only knew where.

Now it was Sunday morning and Ron had to wonder what Harry was going through. Not only that, but how had Black gotten into Gryffindor tower this time? Neville wasn't allowed to write the passwords down anymore. His eyes narrowed as he looked around at his housemates. Had one of them betrayed Harry?

Thinking of that incident made Ron falter. Black had come at him, Ron, with a knife, before realising he wasn't Harry. He hadn't been looking to kidnap anyone then, just kill, so when did he change his plans? For that matter why hadn't he just killed Ron anyway then moved onto the next bed? He remembered Hermione pointing out that same thing after the first attack, but he hadn't given it much thought until now. He surely couldn't have been scared off by Ron's yells, could he?

Ron shook his head to free himself of these perplexing thoughts. Black was a nutter, everyone knew that, but he'd better not hurt Harry. If he did he'd have Ron Weasley to answer to.

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Sirius Black had made it to London. It was a long journey, involving stealing one of Hogwarts school brooms, flying as far as Manchester before it gave out and then hitching a ride the rest of the way. It had made for an uncomfortable trip, especially as the rain never let up and his cloak was far from a serviceable condition. He felt vulnerable travelling as a human and kept expecting the muggle lorry driver to recognise him, especially when the news came over the muggle wireless and his name was mentioned. The driver had just grunted and commented at 'what a piece of work that Black was.' Sirius had heartily agreed, but kept his face averted as much as possible. It hadn't been made much better when the dog that was the drivers travelling companion kept sniffing him as if curious why he smelt like a canine.

But that was all behind him now. He had made it in one piece and without being recognised and now he was going to find Harry. Peter was never the most original of people, in fact his predictability had been a running joke back in the days of the Marauders and that was why Sirius was certain he had brought Harry here.

Unfortunately London is a big city and there were any number of places a rat could hide with an undersized teenage boy. But this was Peter and if anyone could predict his actions it was Sirius Black. He'd checked all of the very nicest hotels first, Peter always liked to pamper himself when he could afford it and Sirius was willing to bet he'd use dark magic to 'pay' for it.

It wasn't until the sun was up and morning light was streaming between the houses that he caught it. Peter's scent, once so familiar and welcome, was here and mingled with it was Harry's scent. He'd only smelt it that once when Harry had left his Aunt and Uncle's house, but it had stuck with him and now he was glad it had.

Sirius was considering his options when he heard a thump from behind the hotel and a low moan of pain. He was just about to go and check it out when a limping form ran by. Harry.

Sirius found himself inordinately proud of the boy. He'd escaped from Peter, clever boy. He must have inherited his ingenuity from Lily. Or maybe he was giving Peter too much credit. He'd never been all that skilled with a wand after all.

Deciding it didn't matter either way Sirius followed at a discrete distance. He didn't want to scare his godson, but there was no way he was going to let him wander the streets of London alone. Hopefully Harry would head to the Leaky Cauldron and floo back to Hogwarts. Once inside the pub he would be safe, Sirius was sure. Tom would look after him and contact Dumbledore and Harry would be home before lunchtime. Sirius hadn't been needed after all.

Well maybe a little. It quickly became clear that Harry had no idea where he was going. He'd stopped running now and merely hobbled about aimlessly. Sirius wondered what he'd done to his leg – and was that a bruise on his cheek? A growl escaped his throat. Once he was sure Harry was safe he'd go back and kill Peter.

"Excuse me," Harry said to a passing woman. "I'm looking for, er, well a pub. It's called the Leaky Cauldron."

The woman shook her dark hair from her face. "I've never heard of it, luvvie. Do you know what road it's on?"

Harry shook his head negatively.

"Sorry," the woman walked away.

Harry let out a frustrated huff and looked about.

Sirius decided it was time to take action. The longer Harry wandered about the more time Peter would have to find him before he could reach safety.

Slowly he crawled towards Harry, trying to make himself as small as possible so as not to startle his young godson. He raised his head and licked Harry's hand, eliciting a yelp of surprise.

Harry looked down to see the large dog crouched beside him and did something very unexpected. He screamed.

"Argh!"

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Peter awoke warm and contented. He really enjoyed hotel rooms. Too bad he had James' brat of a son with him or he would take advantage of this reprieve from rat life and really spoil himself, all at the expense of the hotel staff, naturally.

He transformed, relishing the feel of the sunlight streaming across his bed and sat up. He would have to obliviate the staff to be safe. The Aurors would be out in force looking for the boy and he wouldn't want word to get back to Dumbledore that he stayed here for free by using the Imperious curse against the clerk in the lobby.

Time to go. He stood up, pulling out the boys' wand from the pocket of the oversized jeans he was wearing. Honestly, were all the boys' clothes whale sized? He would transfigure them, but he couldn't guarantee they'd be wearable afterwards. Transfiguration had never been his best subject.

He was gone! The boy had gotten up and left! How? The door was still charmed. His frantic gaze swept the room, finally catching on the open window. He'd forgotten the window. They were only on the second floor, the boy could have easily jumped that height.

As he stared at the window he could feel all his dreams crumbling away. The Master would punish him if he turned up empty handed after he'd been so close to delivering Harry Potter. All the power, the concubines, the respect, it was all slipping away before he'd even gotten a taste of it. Damn that boy!

No. It wouldn't end like that. He was the great and amazing Peter Pettigrew, wizard, animagus and all around genius. He deserved to be rewarded by his Master when he brought the boy in. How hard could it be? The boy would be lost and unarmed in muggle London, probably heading for the one place he knew, Diagon Alley. Peter knew he could find him before he reached there and then everything would be alright again.

He spared a moment to wonder if he would return to his relatives' house somewhere in Surrey, but disregarded that. It was further away and he would be on foot. Not only that, but no muggle house could protect him from the great Wormtail, he must surely be bright enough to recognise that.

Diagon Alley it was then, but first he needed to obliviate some people.

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He'd run until he couldn't go any further and then he'd been forced to stop outside a small café. The smells wafting out the front door made him hungry, and he realised with a jolt that he hadn't eaten since the night he'd been taken from Hogwarts. That was about thirty six hours ago. Unfortunately he didn't have any money with him and no time to stop and eat even if he had. He had to keep moving. He never thought he'd be thankful to the Dursley's for making him work while on 'starvation diets,' but at least that experience would help him today.

He asked a pretty young woman – at least he thought she was pretty, but without his glasses who could tell? – dressed in fashionable clothes for directions. She'd called him 'luvvie' which made him uncomfortable, but she seemed harmless enough. She had never heard of the pub though and Harry didn't know what street it was on so she'd left him standing on the pavement, hoping for some amazing piece of luck to come his way.

Instead his hand got slobbered on by some stray dog. As he wiped his hand on his somewhat manky jeans he glanced down and got the fright of his life.

"Argh!"

The dog was blurry and absolutely huge. Not only that, but Harry was sure it was the same dog that he'd seen around Hogwarts with Crookshanks. What on Earth was it doing here?

It really did look like a Grim he noted as he squinted at it. Trelawney would be thrilled to know he'd come face to face with an omen of death. Harry just hoped he lived long enough to tell her.

The dog didn't look threatening. In fact it was whimpering pitifully and gazing up at him with sad eyes.

All around Harry were people staring at him for yelling. He shrugged helplessly and they continued on their way.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle the dog, Harry lowered his hand to its head. The dog sniffed at him, but otherwise seemed unconcerned. Gingerly, Harry stroked it, ready to withdraw his hand the moment the dog attacked.

It never did. Harry grew more comfortable by the moment until he remembered he was supposed to be running for his life. "Good dog," he said, before beginning to move away.

The dog followed.

"Go on," Harry said, making shooing motions at it.

The dog just stared at him through big soulful eyes.

"Fine, you can come," Harry said, wondering if he was mad to be talking to a dog as though it understood him.

The dog barked happily and wagged its tail so enthusiastically that for a moment Harry thought it had understood him. It ran a few paces ahead of Harry and turned back to him as if saying, "Well? Are you coming?"

As Harry had no idea where he was and little idea where he was going he shrugged his shoulders. It didn't really matter which way he went as long as he kept moving away from the hotel he'd left Wormtail in. Who knew, maybe he'd get lucky.

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Peter was thankful for the cloak he'd taken from the boy as he sped directly to the Leaky Cauldron. He told himself it didn't matter that the people he bumped into looked around in confusion when they couldn't see what hit them, as long as he got the boy back.

It was times like this he envied Sirius Black. His dog form was inconspicuous enough he could have run down any London road and been ignored and fast enough he could have got there in no time. His rat form definitely didn't have the speed and he could just imagine how people would react to him despite London's rat population. There would have been screaming and kicking and stampeding. He shuddered. Nothing was worth risking that.

So he'd been forced to use the cloak. James' wonderful cloak they'd used to prank the Slytherins, and especially Snivellus, so many times. He'd always wanted this cloak for himself and now it was finally his. James Potter didn't deserve such a treasure, nor his worthless brat, but he did.

But then that was the way of life, Peter knew. He sat down behind some dustbins out of the way and still invisible. The Leaky Cauldron was just a few doors down and from here he could see in both directions down the quiet street. If the boy came here – and frankly where else could he go? – then Peter would see him coming and could apprehend him. He would have to be crafty though or someone might see something.

What had he been thinking about? Oh yes. James had had everything he could possibly want and then, when he already had everything, he'd gotten Lily Evans, too. Lily was the smartest and most beautiful witch in their entire year. They'd gotten married and had a child, the very same child he was hunting now and they'd been so despicably happy he couldn't bear it, not when he, Peter had been alone. But not now. Now he was dead and so was Lily and they wouldn't make him feel bad by being so in love with each other all the time. Lily should have been looking at him like that.

The Master had agreed of course. He'd told Peter about how the silly mudblood was beneath him and it was like Peter should have known that all along, but he only realised it at that moment when the Master told him so. The Master had told him the truth, how he was better than all his friends, better than most of the wizards on the planet, except the Master, naturally. The Master told him he deserved girls, as many as he wanted, and riches beyond imagining and so much power.

A part of Peter had always thought that, but it was squashed beneath the bigger part that had felt inferior to his old friends. The Master had changed it all though, he had seen how glorious Peter's future would be and he promised to help him on his way. Peter had accepted, who wouldn't with those kinds of prospects. All he'd had to do was have the Master's mark engraved on his arm and serve until all wizards bowed before them and then, then Peter would shine.

It had taken too long, though. He'd served, he'd spied on the Order of the Phoenix and reported their actions as the Master wanted and then he'd handed over Lily and James. It hadn't been an easy decision, not at first anyway. True, James had all the things Peter had wanted and Lily was one of those things even if she was a dirty mudblood, but they had been kind to him, had defended him in school and James had helped him with the animagus transformation, even though Peter knew he could have done it on his own eventually. But then the Master had reminded him that he didn't need anyone – except for the Master – and Peter had realised that he had always been wrong. They hadn't been his friends, they'd been using him for his popularity, his power and his intelligence all along and Peter had done it, he'd told the Master where they were hiding.

James and Lily were killed but the child lived. He lived while the Master disappeared and poor Peter had been cut off. It hadn't been hard to come to the conclusion that if he wanted to avoid Azkaban – not that the prison could possibly hold him, but it would be an annoyance he could do without – then he needed to take care of his dear old friend Sirius. Remus, the moronic werewolf, wouldn't be a problem, never having been told about them switching secret keepers, but Sirius would go to Dumbledore and then the Aurors would be looking for him.

So he'd done what was necessary and Sirius had gone to jail while he went to live with a wizarding family as a rat for twelve years. Twelve years of sleeping and eating as much as he could. If they weren't blood traitors Peter would have had kind thoughts for the Weasleys.

A familiar mop of hair was coming his way. Yes, Peter was a genius to have guessed he'd come this way. He glanced up and down the street. It was still early and none of the shops were open yet so there were only one or two people wandering around. If the boy caused a scene he could obliviate them. True his obliviations had never been all that good, as the hotel clerk would probably attest if he could remember his own name right now, but they were muggles and no one would miss them if they became vegetables.

No! How could that have happened? There, trotting merrily at the boys heels was the very recognisable form of Padfoot. How had Sirius found him so quickly? It wasn't fair.

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Harry had been following the dog for at least an hour. Truthfully he had no idea why he followed it except that any direction was better than none.

As they walked the dog would keep casting glances at Harry as though it were making sure he was still there. It's doggy tongue lolled from it's mouth in a doggy grin and Harry found he was a very friendly and affectionate dog. How could he have been scared of it?

Together they turned a corner and Harry was met with the sight of the Leaky Cauldron tucked in between two shops. He couldn't believe it. Did the dog really know where Harry wanted to go and take him right there? Perhaps it was a magical breed of dog. That would explain its unfortunate resemblance to a Grim.

Harry had to stop himself running for the dingy looking pub and the safety it promised. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself until he was inside. So he kept his pace at a brisk walk until he was right outside the door. He was struck once more with the feeling of invisibility as the gazes of passing strangers slid right past him.

Before he could open the door he heard a whine emanate from the dogs mouth. "What is it?" Harry asked before realising it couldn't answer. The dog sniffed about and cast its gaze up and down the street, seemingly searching for something. He nudged Harry with his nose as if telling him to get a move on and then moved a few steps away, still looking around. Harry turned and placed a hand on the doorknob but before he could turn it hands seized him from behind and a wand was pressed into his throat.

"Make one sound, boy and you'll be dead before you can make another."

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A/N: I'm sorry this has been so long but I wanted to get New Life out of the way before I continued this. The scene from Sirius' point of view has actually been written for a while now, since before I went in hospital. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did be sure to review and let me know.

Thanks to those who reviewed.

Nats.