Chapter Thirty Four
The sun was only just beginning to rise, the black of the sky turning into the paler grey that it would no doubt stay all day. As the light began to trickle it's way through the darkness, Sirius realised there was a heaviness to the cloud cover that threatened snow. Still - tonight he would either be warm in his own bed, with Remus, or back in his cell in Azkaban; it wasn't like he was going to have to sleep rough, under his bridge, in a blizzard.
...
It was 8 am - and Sirius was lurking in Diagon Alley, disguised as Padfoot, and Albert the catering wizard was late.
Although he couldn't speak, in this form, there was a low growling noise coming from his throat which - if anyone had stopped to listen closely too - sounded uncommonly like 'come on come on come on'.
The rest of the Caradoc Carew's Classic Catering Company would be turning up at half past nine. If Albert didn't get here soon, and if Tom the toothless barman hung around, then Sirius was going to be cutting it very fine. Not to mention, it would not be long before the Ministry dog snatchers were out and about. The later it got, the more shops would open, the busier the street would become and the harder a time Sirius would have hiding. He needed a better disguise. He needed Albert … and the stolen vial of polyjuice potion that he held carefully between his teeth.
...
Across the alley, the kitchen door opened and the gummy walnut face of Tom the barman peered out, looked for something, and then tutted.
Hidden in the shadows, the black dog gave a growl that sounded uncannily like, 'I know, right? He's late!'
...
The Gringotts' clock had struck quarter past before a popping noise heralded the arrival of Albert and, looking harried, the young catering wizard hurried to the kitchen door and banged on it. 'Tom, It's Albert from catering - I'm sorry I'm late!'
The door was opened - and Albert disappeared inside. Keeping to the shadows, his body low to the ground, Sirius crept closer. The door was open just a crack - and, peering inside, Sirius could see Albert alone in the kitchen. The sleeves of his robes pushed up to his elbows, peeling potatoes with his wand.
Tom was nowhere to be seen, at least. He must be off in the bar itself, getting it set up.
...
Hanging over the fire, the kettle suddenly emitted a great, piercing whistle and a whole spout of steam. Albert abandoned the spuds … and, more importantly, his wand - and went to get it.
Sirius seized his chance. He slipped through the doorway, and - while Albert's back was turned, put his paws on the counter, dropped the vial of polyjuice onto it and then transformed into a man. Then his hand wrapped around the abandoned wand. At last …
...
Albert turned around, saw him standing there - dropped the kettle in alarm - boiling water spilling out over the stone floors - and shrieked. His face went pale and his eyes widened in fright. 'You're... you're … where's my …'
He glanced around, desperately searching for his mislaid wand … Then his eyes fell on Sirius' right hand and saw what he was holding.
'Looking for this?' Sirius asked. He raised the wand. Albert's eyes went wider still - and he looked like a man who knew he was facing certain death … And then Sirius yelled 'stupefy' and he keeled over, unconscious.
...
Working quickly, Sirius waved the wand at the door which led to the bar - locking it so Tom could not interrupt him. Then he yanked a few hairs from Albert's head and, struggling a little, stripped the white robes off him. Once Albert was in nothing but his underwear, Sirius dropped the hairs into the potion and took a gulp.
Immediately he felt the burning, bubbling, melting and churning sensations that had been so unpleasant yesterday. They felt little better today.
...
By this time, Tom was banging on the door, calling through to ask what all the yelling had been about. Sirius watched the door, even as his skin seemed to take on a life of its own and crawl around, anxiously waiting to see if the old barman would barge his way in before he was ready.
As soon as the bubbling and churning stopped, he called out: 'just a minute - everything's fine,' in Albert's squeaky voice. He pulled the catering robes on, over his head, and stuffed the vial of polyjuice potion into his pocket. Then he stared at Albert, wondering what to do with him.
Tom's increased hammering at the door spurred him on to act quickly. Not even stopping to wonder why this was the spell that came to his mind, he pointed the wand at Albert and muttered 'mutato cacto' and watched as the young wizard was transfigured into a cactus.
He popped the cactus onto the windowsill … he would tell someone it was Albert later, once Harry was safe and Remus was free, and went to finally unlock the door.
...
'What's going on?' Tom asked suspiciously, barrelling through into the kitchen.
'Nothing - sorry - I dropped the kettle, burned my feet.'
'You OK?'
''I'll live … I need to … you know,' he jerked his head back in the direction of the half peeled potatoes.
Tom shook his head, 'you're not very bright, are you, Albert?' and he shuffled back into the bar, grumbling to himself.
...
Heaving a great sigh of relief, Sirius closed the door again and looked around the kitchen. Well, if he didn't want to blow his cover, he had better get started with the food preparations … Maybe he should have taken the time to question Albert about exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing …
The aurors were gathered in their office - preparing to go. They were going to get to The Leaky Cauldron early and start staking it out long before the first of the public turned up. If Sirius Black thought he could slip in among the crowds, he was going to find out he was sorely mistaken.
...
Severus had been in the office since long before the sun came up - preparing the final information his team would need, before they headed out into the field. He had performed the gemino charm on the muggle photograph Proudfoot had given him last night, and now he passed a copy around to every auror to keep with them at all times.
'Obviously, we need to look out for Black's true face, and we need to watch out for any sign of a dog fitting the description of his animagus form - we must not get so mired down in looking for one thing, that we miss what is right under our noses. However, we have reason to believe that the man in the picture is the man we need to be looking for today. In reality, he is a muggle, but a man fitting this description has already been spotted in Diagon Alley…' He stopped a moment and took a sharp breath in; fighting down the anger he still felt that Dawlish had had Black right in his grasp, had spoken to him … and had let him go.
Once he had got hold of himself, again, he continued, 'and we know that Black has stolen a vial of polyjuice potion and is therefore capable of changing his appearance. This seems to be the face he has chosen. Study it closely and memorise it, look out for it - and if you see it, stun first and ask questions later. Now - if I can draw your attention to the map of The Leaky Cauldron we will go over final positions …'
...
The aurors all listened in rapt silence as he pointed out where they would be. They were going to arrive shortly before the catering crew did. Shacklebolt would check they were all who they said they were before he let them in, and then guard the back door. Dawlish - in disgrace - was going to be stuck out in the muggle street all day, checking anyone coming in that way, while Proudfoot and a newly returned Moody would be guarding the main door - making sure that, once inside, no one got back out again.
Scrimgeour and Savage were still with Pettigrew, and they would remain on protection detail until the whole thing was over, and Black was caught. Likewise Williamson and Berrycloth would stay with little Harry and his muggle family.
Snape would be patrolling the bar - and he would be assisted by the regular law enforcement wizards, who had mostly been pulled back off dog snatching duty and would be providing added manpower; this time pretending to be members of the wizarding public - there to see the show.
...
'Are there any questions?' Severus asked, looking around.
Moody grunted, 'what dark detectors are you taking with you?'
'Dark detectors?'
The old auror grunted again, this time impatiently. 'Dark detectors, boy! Ways of knowing if a dark wizard is sneaking up on you … though Merlin knows how you won't set them off, seeing as what you really are…'
Severus felt himself flush, but Moody was still talking. 'You need a foe glass - see the whites of his eyes as he comes for you, sneakoscopes, secrecy sensors - use them to check everyone you're talking to, probity probes…'
By now many of the other aurors were shifting and looking uncomfortable. 'I think we're more than up to the job, Mad Eye,' Proudfoot told him, 'No need for your wild ideas.'
'Wild ideas?' His voice was a dangerous growl. 'We're out trying to catch the right hand man of the Dark Lord himself. We don't want to let him slip from our grasp because you lot thought you were too good to stick a probity probe up his…'
'We'll take some sneakoscopes,' Snape interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. His voice sounded tight even to his own ears and he was having to bite down his impatience. 'Any more questions?'
But there were none. 'Good. Now - let's move out. Today is the day.'
...
The aurors began apparating away to their stations. Moody, however, went to his desk and brought out a whole tray of pocket sneakoscopes, which he brought over to Severus. 'Try not to set them off yourself, Snape,' he growled.
Once again, Severus felt himself flush. 'Dumbledore trusts me…'
'Aye, he does at that…' and the old auror stumped away on his wooden leg.
...
Still glowering, Severus tipped the sneakoscopes into his large leather holdall - along with all the other items he had brought with him to aid him on his hunt for Black - and then he gripped his wand and apparated to The Leaky Cauldron.
Sirius had been busy for about an hour, peeling vegetables and putting dough into the oven. He had managed to unearth a list of the canapes that were going to be served at the meet and greet and had done his best to start getting them ready.
It felt slightly unreal, to be standing here baking - while Remus was locked in prison, waiting to die, and Harry was in danger from Peter and all of their lives rested on the next few hours and Sirius' success or failure. Yet here he was, rolling out pastry as if he hadn't a care in the world.
...
The distant chiming of the Gringotts' clock told him it was half past nine. Time for him to take his next swig of polyjuice potion … and time for the other caterers to arrive.
With a backwards glance at the door, to check Tom was nowhere around, he put down his rolling pin and took out the vial - taking a hearty gulp … which he nearly spat straight back out again as a loud popping noise caused him to jump.
...
He whirled around, hastily swallowing his mouthful of potion - and felt his blood freeze in his veins when he saw none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there. 'Kin- ' he bit his tongue and managed to cut himself off. 'What are you doing here?' he squeaked instead.
Kingsley looked him up and down, his dark eyes taking in the white robes and the five Cs emblazoned on their breast. 'I'm part of the outfit of aurors here to recapture Black - who are you and why are you here?'
'I - I'm Albert. It was my job to get everything prepared before the others got here…' He waved a hand at all his baking, glad that he had taken the time to maintain his cover and get the job done.
'Got a last name there, Albert?'
Panic flooded through him. 'Yes - of course,' he bluffed. 'Doesn't everybody?'
Kingsley did not look impressed. 'And your last name is…?'
'Um -'
'Jones,' a voice said. They both turned to look. Caradoc Carew himself was coming through the kitchen door, his team of catering wizards following behind him. 'Albert Jones - worked for me for 5 years. Don't mind Albert, Mr. Shacklebolt. He's a good lad, but not very bright.'
...
Sirius felt a stab of annoyance on Albert's behalf. Maybe he wasn't the longest wand in Ollivander's, but it was still rude of Carew to tell a perfect stranger that.
The expression on Kingsley's face suggested he agreed. He raised his wand. 'And you are?' he asked the head caterer.
'Well I don't really think I need an introduction.'
'I'm here to search for an escaped prisoner - Death Eater - spy who could look like anything or anyone. Indulge me.'
And so, huffing and puffing, Caradoc Carew brought out proof of his identification, and the rest of his team followed suit - and, in all the hubbub, everyone forgot about thick, little Albert and whether or not he knew his own last name.
...
Sirius took his chance, and slipped out of the kitchen, into the main bar area. Under the cover of looking like he was busy doing … something - he got a lay of the land, noting where all the aurors were stationing themselves.
...
He helped Tom put table cloths down and arrange chairs and was just arranging nametags on the table where Peter would hold his press conference, when the auror he had spoken to yesterday stuck his head through the front door - bringing with him cold air and a flurry of the first snowflakes. 'Muggles have arrived - little Harry with them,' he announced.
A moment later, two more aurors escorted a very dazed and confused looking Petunia and Vernon into the pub. There was something about the blankness of their eyes that suggested to Sirius that, rather than just confund them, Wormtail had actually put them under the imperius curse to make sure they got here.
Nobody else seemed to notice though. He supposed no one else really cared. They were only muggles after all and - for all no one here supported Voldemort - pro muggle feelings were still relatively rare among the magical community. Given the opportunity, most wizards treated muggles very little better than they did werewolves.
For all Sirius did not like Petunia and Vernon, he cared they were being forced by magic to do something against their will. In fact - the very fact of what was happening to them was a perfect demonstration of why they were so fearful of magic in the first place. And if they had been placed under an unforgivable curse, then they deserved justice for that - even if the Ministry would be happy to turn a blind eye to a bit of light muggle confunding.
He watched them carefully. Harry was held in Petunia's arms, although she was not cradling him as if she loved him. She held him more like he was a sack of potatoes … a dirty sack of potatoes that was getting muck on her dress.
...
He felt a sudden stab of anger towards Dumbledore, that out of everyone in the world, he would abandon the little boy with people who so clearly did not love him. So what if they were blood relatives? The world was full of would-be parents, crying out for a baby of their own - who would happily have taken in Harry and loved him. That was precisely what he and Remus had done … only the might of the Ministry had seen fit to remove him from them … and put him with Lily's unloving sister instead.
...
'This way, Mr. and Mrs Dursley,' Tom the toothless barman was saying, ushering them towards the table where Sirius stood. They edged towards their seats. Harry was fussing and grizzling in Petunia's arms - and she looked down and tutted at him. She reached her seat. Sirius was right beside her.
Harry cried out - she tutted again - and then thrust the baby into Sirius' unexpecting arms. 'Hold him for a moment, will you?' Now with her hands free, she straightened her dress and pulled out her chair.
...
Sirius gazed down at Harry. He had stopped crying the moment his uncle had held him - as if polyjuice potion was not enough to fool a baby, and he knew full well when he was safe in the arms of someone who loved him.
Sirius remembered that dreadful night, back at the house, when Prongs and Lily lay dead on the floor and Harry had cried then too… until Uncle Padfoot had picked him up, and the baby had known everything would be OK, and Sirius had apparated them out to safety. He bit his lip - and tried not to let anything of what he was feeling show on Albert's doughy face.
If it wasn't for Remus, locked up in prison, he would use his stolen wand and apparate the pair of them away right this instant. Just take Harry and run, this time much farther away - where no one would ever think to look and no one would ever trace them. But he couldn't - he couldn't leave Remus behind like that - and so, with great regret, he handed Harry back to Petunia, once she was settled. Then he hurried back off to the kitchen, his heart beating erratically in his chest.
...
As he ran, he heard Harry begin to cry again - now he was once more left with his aunt.
'Just one more day, Harry,' he thought desperately, 'just hold on for one more day.'
...
'It's strange,' a voice said behind him. 'The baby stopped crying the moment you held him.'
Sirius turned to look, and felt his face screw up in an expression of extreme distaste, as he came face to face with the hooked nose and curtain of greasy hair that was Snivellus Snape.
...
Snape must have noticed - because his own features twisted in anger, 'what are you looking at me like that for?'
'Nothing,' he tried to arrange his face so it was more neutral, forcing down the hatred that coursed through every fibre of his being.
'Nothing,' Snape echoed back. His voice was mocking - until suddenly it switched back to dangerous and silky. 'Yes, most strange that the baby cries in the arms of its aunt, but is docile and good for you a … perfect … stranger .'
'I'm good with babies,' Sirius replied, keeping his tone placid - as if Snape's insinuation had soared right over Albert's head. 'Always have been. My mam calls me a baby whisperer - used to make me get up nights when my sister was little, 'cause only I could quiet her.'
'Is that so?'
He nodded.
'Very well - but be warned - I'm keeping an eye on you.'
Sirius forced a surprised sounding chuckle, 'alright,' he said, as if he had no idea why.
...
Snape tutted - and walked into the kitchen. He put his holdall down on the counter and started to rummage through it.
Whatever he was looking for, he clearly couldn't find - because he tutted even louder and started to unload everything that was inside, taking out shrivel figs, and his invisibility cloak, and his journal, and the vial of clear potion, and the ragwort juice and piling it all up on one side.
...
Out by the front door, the auror on guard's head popped back round. 'Pettigrew's arriving.'
And a moment later, Wormtail himself walked into The Leaky Cauldron, flanked by his own protection aurors and followed by yet another flurry of early snow. The little rat's beady eyes were shifty, darting in every direction as if seeking escape. He was pale and sweaty and looked like he was seriously regretting several of his life choices right now.
But, with Scrimgeour's hand placed firmly on his shoulder, there was no possible escape - and he did his best to feign delight as he saw Harry sitting at the table, heading over to him.
...
Sirius was frozen to the spot. He was having to desperately fight the urge to just leap forwards and start tearing Pettigrew limb from limb. And only the disgust of actually coming face to face with Peter, after all this time, was keeping him rooted in place and stopping him from becoming a murderer.
But that would do him no good … they all thought he was here to kill Peter. To actually do it would just make him look doubly guilty. And still leave him with no proof of his or Remus' innocence.
But something else suddenly occurred to him - and that too kept him frozen in place, as panic coursed through him and he realised everything was about to crash down around his ears.
...
He didn't have a plan.
...
He had been so focused on just getting in - on finding a way in to Peter and to Harry - that he hadn't actually stopped to consider what to do once he was there. He needed Peter to talk … he didn't have a way to make that happen. How could he have got this far with no actual plan? Remus would have had a plan … and Remus' life depended on him coming up with one sharpish.
...
'Oh, where are the dratted things?' he heard Snape say from inside the kitchen. He turned to look and saw Snape's greasy head still buried inside the holdall - rooting something out. His eyes wandered over the discarded objects: the shrivelfigs, the journal, the cloak, the ragwort juice… He saw the vial.
His heart began to beat very fast.
...
The vial was filled with a clear and colourless potion - was it…? Could it be…? If anyone could brew it, it would be Snivellus - the enigmatic, young potions master - as he was now being hailed in The Daily Prophet . And he would probably have had use for it through the course of his manhunt. It made sense for it to be …
Sirius edged into the kitchen, eased his way around Snape - glanced at everybody else, who were all too busy to pay him any attention - and then, with the sleight of hand he had got so good at these past few days, grabbed the vial and stuffed it in his pocket. He hurried back out into the bar.
In the kitchen Severus straightened up, finally yanking out the sneakoscopes Moody had given him. 'Here they are. I'll station them all around the pub,' he told Kingsley, 'so if Black passes one, we'll know.'
He began to pack up all the items he had displaced in his search, putting the journal and the cloak safely back in his bag, along with the shrivelfigs, the ragwort juice and the … His hand tapped around on the countertop as if looking for something. 'Has anyone seen…?' He looked around distractedly, suspiciously eyeing up all of the catering wizards.
'Is everything alright, Severus?' Shacklebolt asked him.
'I seem to have misplaced …' He shook his head. 'No matter - I'll get these set up,' and he carried the sneakoscopes out into the main bar area.
Sirius watched Snape bustle around the taproom, planting sneakoscopes in every corner. He would have to be careful to give them a wide berth. They were dark wizard catchers, so perhaps he wouldn't set them off … But they lit up if anything untrustworthy was going on - and he had turned a man into a cactus, stolen his wand and face, and was now waiting for a moment to spike Pettigrew's drink. And if the sneakoscopes couldn't pick all that up, then they weren't really up to the job.
...
'Albert!'
He jumped, turned around, and saw Carew standing behind him.
'What are you doing lollygagging around here?'
'I was just - going to … take the drink order for Mr. Pettigrew and the Dursleys.'
'Well it's a bit early in the morning for wine - they'll all have pumpkin juice. See to it.'
'Yes, sir.'
...
He hurried away, back into the kitchen, put four goblets onto a tray - one for Pettigrew and one each for the Dursley's and the editor of the Daily Prophet, who would be chairing the meeting - and poured a generous helping of pumpkin juice into each one. Then he added two or three drops of the colourless potion into one of the drinks.
He picked up the tray and carried the goblets out into the bar - skirting the sneakoscopes in case they picked up on the spiked drink. 'Here we go,' he said cheerfully, once he reached the table, placing a cup down in front of each of the people sitting there. He was careful to make sure Peter got the one with the added potion.
...
As he settled the goblet down on the table, he caught Peter's shifty, little eye and they looked directly at each other for a moment. Peter flinched and looked away … and Sirius wondered if he knew, if he could tell who he had just looked at … the way Harry just knew him. But that couldn't be. If he could fool Snape, then he could fool Peter. He looked like Albert Jones - no one was any the wiser.
...
In the meantime, the pub had started to fill up - as members of the public were allowed in. The press were all sectioned off in one area, cameras and quills at the ready - though Rita Skeeter was only notable by her absence.
Sirius was aware of the Ministry wizards moving through the crowds, incognito, searching for him. He kept his head down and carried a tray of canapes, handing them out to the onlookers. All the while, he kept an eye on Peter. 'Come on come on come on,' he thought desperately. But - although the editor and the Dursleys were drinking from their goblets (the Dursleys looking disgusted at the pumpkin flavour) Peter was yet to pick his up.
...
The air was suddenly rent by a loud screeching noise, and some of the crowd screamed. A light began to flash. Across the room, one of the sneakoscopes had lit up and started to scream. Sirius held his breath - though he was miles from it - and watched as Snape marched towards the sound of the disturbance, his face flushed with victory.
But it turned out to only be Mundungus Fletcher, who was attempting to sell some lucky charms that had fallen off the back of a broom to people in the crowd. He was hauled away by the Ministry for questioning, but Snape was looking disappointed. He knew Sirius would not have borrowed the appearance of someone who was already known to the Ministry.
...
Sirius watched him look at the photo of the muggle from yesterday and then scan the crowd. But he, Sirius, was more interested in watching Peter. 'Come on come on come on' …. But still no luck.
...
He handed out more canapes. The bar was heaving now, standing room only, and it was getting increasingly difficult to push a path through.
The distant chiming of the Gringott's clock marked half past ten and the editor of the Daily Prophet cleared his throat, and called for quiet. 'Let's make a start, shall we?'
...
Hearing the clock, Sirius abandoned his tray and fished in his pocket for his polyjuice potion - it was time for another swig. But instead of the black, treacly liquid, he pulled out the vial of colourless potion - he cursed and dug around in his pocket once again.
Severus was scanning the crowd. The face of the muggle man was nowhere to be seen; there were no black dogs to be seen anywhere either, and obviously no Black himself. The whole thing was about to start, and the closest they had got to arresting a Death Eater was hauling away that crook, Mundungus Fletcher. Mundungus got arrested every other week - it was hardly an achievement.
...
He looked around, impatiently. Black had to be somewhere in the room. He had to be. But perhaps Severus had made a miscalculation when he had assumed he would be disguised as the muggle. Perhaps he had discarded that face, after meeting with Dawlish yesterday, and chosen another one.
But as he looked at all the faces of the people in the room, listening as the editor made the introductions, he couldn't begin to think which one might be Black… until he gave himself away somehow, Severus was blind.
...
His eyes fell on the doughy faced catering wizard, who was standing in the middle of the crowd - not working, as he ought to be. The doughy faced catering wizard who had stopped little Harry from crying. The doughy faced catering wizard who had looked at him, Severus, with such strong dislike… The doughy faced catering wizard who was, this very moment, clutching Severus' missing vial of potion in his hand - and raising another vial to his lips… The doughy faced wizard who was - as Severus watched - looking less doughy and rather more handsome with each passing moment.
'It's him!' he yelled, pointing. 'It's Albert. The caterer. He's Black - get him!'
Sirius felt the vial be dashed away from his lips, and then he was pounced on by what seemed like every auror in the pub, smashed to the floor and crushed beneath their weight. He felt Kingsley twist his arm behind his back.
...
As the last chimes of half past died away, the last of Albert's features melted from his own - and there was a great gasp of shock - and the whole crowd drew back, as he was exposed as himself in front of them all.
He felt the great crushing agony of defeat wash over him, like a tidal wave. It was over. He was going back to prison. Harry would never get to leave his aunt and uncle. Remus was as good as dead...
...
And then … And then ... with his ratty, little eyes fixed firmly on Sirius, Peter reached out … picked up his goblet … and drank...
...
And all the fight surged back into Sirius, and he started to struggle once again. He elbowed Kingsley away from himself, dragged himself up onto his knees and then yelled out as loudly as he could: 'Peter Pettigrew, who was the Potters' real secret keeper?'
...
Up on his table, Peter gave him a funny look and said: 'I was, Sirius. You know that. We switched right at the last minute.'