Sirius Black, now Blackie, was a good dog. He also was a smart dog, but that was a fact that he kept concealed. Well, mostly.

"Who's a good puppy?" Damien asked, "Go find Ceija," he instructed.

So Sirius did, getting good scritches behind the ears, as he wagged his tail. While Ceija was doing this, an older man's hands pulled the shiny metal bits out of his harness.

This was fun! Exciting!

It was play, and making-of-home at the same time. Sirius couldn't wait to turn three times round and have a great place to sleep!

Except he wasn't sleepy, so - He felt the old man giving him a thankful pet on the shoulders - the one that meant "good job."

With his soulful eyes sparkling, Blackie ran off, his nose in the air. He could smell Harry! Maybe Harry had more pets. Or jobs, jobs were good too!

Blackie didn't get to Harry, before Blondie found him. "Oh, thank god," Blondie said, rubbing Blackie between the shoulder blades. Blackie happily rolled onto his back, asking for a belly rub. "It's not belly rub time, poochie." Blackie rolled onto his stomach, trying to convey that he hated the name "Poochie." Sounded too much like coochie. Draco set down the twenty pounds of rice that he was hauling in a jute bag. "Can you take a heavy load?" Blondie asked with more consideration than Blackie had ever seen out of the lad's father - and he'd grown up with him. Blackie barked back an assent.

It was a heavy load, but doggles didn't think of anything in terms of weight. It was just needed.

It was good to be needed, good to help set up the camp.

By the end of the day, Blackie got himself a good ham bone to chew on, and three hamburgers (He was only supposed to be given one, but a few discrete nudges sent four halves falling onto the ground. And the ground is puppy's turf.)

Blackie did indeed find a good place to turn around three times and curl up to sleep. It was on a blanket, on top of two haybales. He could even protect Harry while he was sleeping.

Ceija finally gave him a warm pat, whispering quietly into the sleeping dog's ear, "Even your masks are forthright and stalwart, aren't they pup?"

[a/n: So we finally get blackie's perspective again. He thinks in terms of pack.]