Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

21. Chapter 21: Safe and Sound

Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 21: Safe and Sound

It was time. The black dog slowly rose from his silent vigil and approached the silent house. The round white moon had risen, but it was playing hide and seek among the shredded clouds as midnight silently passed. Padfoot used the shifting shadows to his advantage, slinking silently and invisibly toward the back door of number 4, Privet Drive. When the dog stood on the back stoop, it silently morphed, changing shape into a hunched man wearing a cloak over ordinary clothing. Honestly, even though the jeans and long-sleeved shirt had been bought for a man barely more than a teenager, they were loose on the skeletal limbs of Sirius Black. The inky wizard's cloak he wore over his muggle clothes was simply incongruous, but he needed it for its nearly limitless pocket space. Crouched by the back door, Sirius took his time setting out the tools of his trade: lock picks. Muggle locks tended to be complicated, and he wasn't going to dare to use anything that would leave a magical signature on this house. Alohomora would leave distinctive marks that a fifth year Hogwarts student would be able to pick up. Once Harry turned up missing (again) Dumbledore was going to run this house over with a team of fine-toothed combs. Maybe he would discover the Dursleys' abominable treatment of their nephew while he was at it, but would he do anything about it? The thought of the old man practically dragging the poor boy back to this house of horrors made Sirius' blood boil. It wouldn't be the first time he turned a blind eye to child abuse, Sirius knew. His own loving family had delighted in torturing him when he came home for the Summer, and he eventually ran away from home. Dumbledore knew about it, but did nothing to help Sirius or stop his parents and other relatives. His Uncle Cygnus had been one of the worst, and dear cousin Bella had learned most of her demented tricks from her father. Sirius shuddered and forced the dark thoughts away from his mind, focusing on the task at hand. He needed to focus here, and leave no evidence behind, especially magical evidence.

After several long moments of patient picking with various tools, Sirius unlocked the (unnecessarily complicated) doorknob and moved to work on the deadbolt. This was trickier and he would have to use a magical tool to avoid damaging the lock. He selected his enchanted penknife from his pile of instruments and carefully inserted it into the deadbolt's lock. The knife bent fluidly, forming the shape of the key he needed, and the wizard grinned wolfishly as the lock turned quietly. It had taken all four of the Marauders to enchant such a powerful little thing, and Sirius sighed sadly at the thought of those far-off days of happy naiveté. But no matter, he had a job to finish. He carefully turned the doorknob, praying that the house didn't have a fancy security system or whatever muggles used instead of magic to repel burglars.

To Sirius' relief, the house was silent. The well-oiled hinges of the door made not a single sound as he pushed it open. On his left was a yawning doorway and on his right was a shut door to what smelled like a pantry. Sirius picked up his lock-picking tools, stowed them in his cloak, and shut the door softly behind him before shifting into Padfoot. The dog form could see better in the dark and his superior sense of smell in the overly sterile house would be an asset.

The first thing Padfoot could smell was blood. His hackles raised and a soft growl rumbled in his deep chest as he softly padded into the kitchen, sniffing the air. The smell was fresh, but there wasn't much. Blood had been spilled, and had been hastily cleaned up. It was unmistakably Harry's, and Padfoot snarled softly, fighting the urge to find the Dursleys and rip their throats out. He had a mission, and justified murder wasn't it. He quickly found his pup's scent under the odors of the overweight whales and the horse-faced woman and traced it to the stairs. The scent was unbearably strong in this area, along with the odors of old blood, fresh tears, unwashed sweat, and healing magic. Padfoot stopped, too stunned to see through the haze of red rage that clouded his vision. For a child Harry's age to be able to access healing magic was not only impressive, it was terrifying. Sirius Black knew all too well how bad things would have to be to force a child to unconsciously access their own magic to heal themselves. Even so, Sirius was over thirteen when he first healed himself with his own raw magic.

Transforming into a man so his canine growls wouldn't wake the house, Sirius took several minutes to calm down, crouching against the wall. It was a battle, with anger-crazed thoughts racing around in his mind mixed with fear and horror for his pup, warring with his common sense and the plan he already had in place. In the end, shuddering and gulping on his tears of rage, Sirius was able to get his wild emotions under control without a spectacular explosion of accidental magic. After Azkaban, he had a much harder time keeping his volatile emotions under control. Only by consciously invoking the memory of James and Lily and his duty toward Harry was he able to stop himself from doing something he would definitely regret. He shakily got to his feet and trudged up the stairs, determined to just get Harry out of here as soon as possible and be done with this house forever.

But Harry was not up there. There were only three rooms upstairs, and he certainly wasn't in the master bedroom, or the bedroom of the fat boy. The other room was empty of life, but smelled as if his pup had been in here recently. Recent unconsciously generated magic drifted lazily in the room and the scent of tears and sweat and blood hung faintly in the air, making the man almost hyperventilate again with rage and the effort to keep from destroying the muggles who dared hurt his godson. Shifting into Padfoot to distract himself from his fury, the dog peered around the room. It was cluttered and crowded with junk and toys, and an old bed-frame filled one side of the wall. Resting on top was a small duffel bag stuffed with clothes. They smelled like Harry, and also like something else that sort of made him think of the potion classroom back at Hogwarts. The dog sneezed and shifted back into a man so he could pick it up. Maybe this was supposed to be Harry's room, but Sirius doubted that Harry spent much time in here. The bed was not made, nor did the room smell lived-in.

Sirius tip-toed back downstairs, being careful not to wake anyone. The Dursley whale was snoring up a storm and his son wasn't far behind in the snoring department, but Sirius still tried to keep from making a clatter. He was mystified and becoming more furious by the second. Where did those monsters force Harry to sleep? He wandered through the downstairs, growling under his breath when he found the spotless and empty spare room, and he found no sign of Harry. He frowned and thought back to his exploration so far. He had smelled Harry strongest near the stairs, so he had assumed that the boy was up there. But what if he was actually down here? Sirius stole back to the staircase and slowly moved around the banister, staring in horror at a small closet door under the stairs with three locks on it. One was a standard doorknob lock, but the other two were a latch with a small padlock on it. Sirius narrowed his eyes at the small door, set the duffel bag down, and pulled out his lock-picking tools. Maybe he would change his mind about leaving the Dursleys with a gift or two. Maybe he could silently trash the downstairs and ruin their expensive gadgets. But first, he had to get Harry out of his prison.

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Harry stirred to wakefulness, wondering what had woken him. He was a light sleeper, normally, even when he was in pain and exhausted. It was a good thing to be able to wake quickly in this house. Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon often startled him out of sleep, and if he could wake before they shouted at him, it would be better for his pounding heart. But after listening for several seconds, Harry couldn't tell why he had woken, except that he was extremely uncomfortable. Briefly, a memory of waking in the Shrieking Shack assaulted him and he shivered. His body ached miserably and he was freezing cold since he was still not wearing anything. He probably had a fever too, if the chill and aches flashing through his exhausted body were any indication. Maybe that was why he had woken up. It was rare that he woke up so very uncomfortable. It was pitch dark, as it always was in his cupboard, and he had fallen asleep curled on the bare floor, pressed against the locked door. His body was stiff and chilled, but he was too tired to panic again and simply groped around for his blanket. It was resting on his mattress where it always was, and he carefully wrapped the threadbare baby blanket around his shoulders, shivering harder at the slight breeze this caused in his stuffy prison.

His sharp ears suddenly perked up at a soft sound out in the house and he strained to hear it. It was footsteps. They were soft and light, pacing steadily through the house, and sometimes, they faded out of hearing. Harry pressed his ear to the door and strained to listen. He didn't recognize the footsteps at all, and the thought terrified him. Had someone broken into the Dursleys' house? Was it a burglar? He couldn't remember this house ever being bothered before, even though only a couple of streets over, Aunt Petunia had heard gossip of a burglary attempt or two. After hearing about that, she had insisted that Uncle Vernon install the new locks on the doors, and while he was at it, he put a new lock on Harry's cupboard. It was a cheap bolt with a loop that was locked with a small padlock. After he somehow managed to get out of his cupboard once or twice despite the doorknob lock, his Aunt and Uncle were determined not to let him 'magic' his way out again. He had been little, and that was the first time he could remember getting thrashed on the bare with his Uncle's belt. It just got more common after that. As if triggered by the memory, Harry's back twinged with sudden pain and he bit his lip against the whimper that wanted out. If there was a burglar in the house, the number one rule still stood: nobody was allowed to find out about the Freak in the Cupboard. He hadn't even told the Professor about his cupboard. He hadn't told the Professor a lot of things.

The soft footsteps passed his cupboard and headed down the hall again. Harry silently crawled backwards and curled up on his mattress. So long as he kept quiet, he reasoned, he'd be left alone. But of course, if things turned out missing in the morning, Harry would be punished for it. Harry bit his lip against the angry tears. It was so unfair! Why did he always get punished for stupid things that he couldn't control? He wished the stranger would go away, or else he hoped it would all turn out to be a bizarre dream and he could wake up to Uncle Vernon's heavy feet stomping down the stairs or Aunt Petunia's shrill voice asking Diddy-dums if he wanted more sugar on his corn flakes.

The footsteps came back up the hall and deliberately stopped in front of his cupboard. Harry held his breath and strained to listen. The cupboard door was thin and cheap, and he could hear perfectly due to his enhanced hearing. Cloth rustled softly, feet shifted, a package or something was pulled from a pocket or bag and it clinked dully. Soft scuffling noises signaled that the whoever-it-was was attempting to unlock the door and do it quietly. Harry held his breath. Should he scream? If he startled the stranger, he ought to flee, right? If he woke up Uncle Vernon, he'd be mad, but he'd have a shotgun too. The burglar would run away from that.

But Harry was simply too frightened of his Uncle himself to attempt to wake him on purpose. Sometimes he had bad dreams where he woke up screaming. If he woke his relatives, he was punished. It was an unspoken rule, that under no circumstances would the Freak dare wake his Aunt or Uncle for any reason whatsoever. Even when he was terribly sick the one time and threw up in his cupboard, his Aunt punished him for waking her up with his crying. He stayed quiet and listened to the locks on his door being carefully manipulated.

It only took a few minutes before he heard the bolt sliding back on his door, and he heard the knob turning softly. Harry held his breath and huddled under his blanket, staring sideways at the door as it opened. Faint moonlight got through the hall curtains, but Harry could only see a tall man in a cloak and hood. Harry's heart jumped suddenly with joy and he sat up at once.

"Professor?" He whispered in disbelief. "You came?"

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Sirius blinked in surprise at the child half-hidden in the shadows of the cupboard. Of all the greetings, he hadn't expected to be mistaken for a Professor. The boy's green eyes glowed faintly in the dark and the slightest flecks of gold in the green irises showed without a doubt that he was a werewolf. The hope and longing in the boy's soft voice were so tangible that Sirius had to fight a lump in his throat, even as he wondered which Professor Harry was talking about. It couldn't possibly be Professor Dumbledore, seeing how the two of them had interacted earlier this past afternoon. Harry had barely tolerated the old man holding his hand, and the old Headmaster had seemed more than happy to just hand him back over to these monsters. He would find out later, and this Professor that the boy seemed to like would have his gratitude, but right now, they needed to get out of here.

"I'm …" Sirius rasped, forgetting how awful his voice sounded after not speaking for so long. "I'm not a Professor, Harry. I'm … I'm your godfather."

The boy was silent, staring at him as if his glowing green eyes could burn a hole through him. "Wh-what?" he finally whispered, his voice wobbly and uncertain. He tugged on his blanket and pulled it tighter around his bare, bony shoulders. Sirius suddenly wondered if the boy was wearing anything under it and his rage at the Dursleys increased again, as if that were possible.

Sirius crouched down carefully and picked up his lock-picking tools. It wouldn't do to let the child see his face yet, just in case they'd been showing him on the muggle news-box and Harry had seen it. He just needed to get the boy away from here and explain later. "I'm here to take you away from these monsters," Sirius explained, his voice still rough and raspy. He coughed softly into his elbow to clear his throat. "Do you … have anything to pack? I grabbed this bag of clothes from upstairs, but I don't know …"

Harry shivered and huddled under his blanket. "You're gonna take me away," he repeated quietly.

"Yes, that's the idea," Sirius huffed impatiently. "Don't tell me you wanna stay here! Those beasts starve you and beat you! I won't let you stay with them anymore, do you hear me? I want to keep you safe."

The boy shivered again. When he spoke, his voice was thick with tears. "You'll hurt me," he whispered faintly. "What're you gonna do to me?"

Sirius was speechless for several seconds. "I …" He finally choked. The man reached out toward the child, almost feeling like he was the one begging for help. "I'd never hurt you, Harry. I love you!"

"You don't even know how bad I am," Harry whispered, his green eyes looking haunted in the dark. "What if I make you mad?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, dammit!" Sirius hissed, suddenly angry. "I protected you from that Werewolf! I stuck by you and I'm not leaving you here with these bastards any longer!" His anger abruptly disappeared and his shoulders slumped. "But … if you really don't want to come with me … I won't force you."

Sirius reached over and grabbed the duffel bag from behind him. He dropped it inside the cupboard in front of Harry's mattress, leaning into the dark space as he did so. It smelled rank in here, like a mixture of stored chemicals and old, unwashed bedding. He could smell sweat and urine and traces of vomit. It was absolutely disgusting that any human being would lock a child up in a filthy, airless hole like this. Why couldn't his godson understand that he wanted so much more for him than this horrible place? His cottage was full of air and light and smelled like sunshine and rain. He wanted to give this child freedom and love and safety. But Harry was more afraid of him than his prison, and despite his earlier fury, Sirius would not kidnap the child by force. He didn't need to traumatize his godson even more.

"I wish I could prove it to you, pup," Sirius whispered, feeling the tears of frustration falling down his sunken cheeks. "I want to save you … But I won't take you away unless you want it. I'll just … keep an eye on you, I guess. And you can let me know when you change your mind."

The small boy seemed about to reply, but they were both startled by a thump from upstairs.

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Harry stared up at the stairs slanting above his head in horror. He could hear plodding footsteps stumbling their way to the stairs and he recognized them immediately. It was Dudley. What in the world was he doing up so late? Harry turned back to the shadowed figure crouching in front of his cupboard and wondered what the stranger would do.

"It's m-my c-cousin," Harry stuttered fearfully, barely above a whisper. "P-please d-don't hurt him!"

Without answering, the figure rose swiftly and suddenly stepped into the cupboard, hunching over in the cramped space. He reached over and pulled the door shut with a soft click, plunging them into darkness. Harry shrank against the wall, feeling the cloth of the man's cloak brushing his cheek as the fellow moved to crouch down beside him. He smelled like a dog, and also like the grass after it got mowed. It was a peculiar smell, but not unpleasant. It got Harry thinking of how the Professor had smelled; warm and clean and spicy. Harry took a deep breath and found musky undertones to the stranger's smell that immediately registered in his mind as 'godfather's' scent (whether the man was actually his godfather or not, he had no other name to call him).

Harry's heart jumped into his throat when he suddenly heard Dudley's not-quiet-at-all footsteps plodding toward his cupboard. He squeezed his eyes shut and trembled. Please don't come to the cupboard! He pleaded silently. Please go back to bed!

But no such luck. Clumsy fingers worked the doorknob and Harry felt a surge of something from the man beside him. The body shifted, and seemed to shrink beside him. Before Harry could even wonder what had happened, the cupboard door was open and Dudley was standing there with an electric torch. Harry hadn't even had his eyes open, so he hadn't seen the light under the door. He gasped and covered his eyes from the blinding light that his cousin clumsily flashed in his eyes, and a doggish whine from beside him made Harry whip around in horror.

Where the stranger had been crouching beside Harry in the dark, there was now a big black dog.

"Blimey," Dudley whispered, almost a whine. "How'd you smuggle a bloody big dog in here?"

Harry didn't really hear his cousin, because his heart was pounding in his ears and suddenly everything was clear. The man, his 'godfather', had said he was protecting Harry, that he wanted to save him. He had thought his beloved dog-friend dead, or at least gone for good after Uncle Vernon shot him. But he had come back, and was apparently also a man, or maybe Harry had imagined all that. It was starting to sound like a bad fairy tale, (a fairy godfather who was also a dog coming to rescue him from his evil relatives?!) and Harry head hurt trying to make sense of it. All he could register was that his friend had come back and was actually here in his cupboard with him and Dudley apparently could see him so it wasn't an illusion.

"Snuffles," Harry breathed in disbelief.

The dog looked up, its soulful blue eyes full of hope and fear. But Harry couldn't concentrate on those eyes right now. He needed to get Dudley to go away and promise not to say anything … and what was he doing up this late anyway?

"D-Dudley?" Harry stuttered, looking up at his round cousin who was still gaping at the black dog huddled against Harry's side.

"Blimey," Dudley whispered again. He looked up at Harry, his blue eyes round in the light from the torch now aimed at the floor. "How'd you … I mean … Is it … you-know-what? Did you do something … freaky?"

"I d-don't know," Harry almost laughed. "I don't know." He reached out a shaking hand and touched the dog on the head. Was it really a magical man? Or was it a magical dog? Or was Harry hallucinating this whole thing?

"Gosh, you'd better get rid of that thing before Mum and Dad see it," Dudley whispered frantically. "Dad'll thrash you again and Mum'll throw a fit."

"Yeah," Harry sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes as a wave of pain and exhaustion washed over his body, making him feel so much older than almost-nine. "What're you doing up, Dudley?" Harry whispered without opening his eyes.

"I … I woke up and I thought …" Dudley stopped and Harry stirred and looked up at his cousin, who suddenly looked very young. His ninth birthday was in a week or so, but Harry felt older than his cousin most of the time. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Dudley whispered. "Dad … really lit into you."

Harry frowned. Dudley had never cared before, even that time Uncle Vernon choked him and threw him in the cupboard after everything went black. Dudley was standing right there and he laughed. Maybe Dudley cared now because he was scared of the Professor coming back. Anyway, it was going to take some getting used to.

"I'm fine, Dudley," Harry replied softly. "I've been hurt worse, y'know." A werewolf tore me up last month and the Professor put me back together, he silently added.

The dog beside Harry suddenly growled softly.

"Hey, isn't that the dog that was fighting the weird fellow the other day?" Dudley asked curiously. "I thought Dad shot it."

The dog's growl deepened and Harry instinctively threw himself over the dog, clutching it around the neck. "Shhh!" Harry hissed desperately. To his surprise, the dog immediately stopped its noise.

"Freak dog?" Dudley asked with a nervous chuckle.

"I don't know," Harry groaned, suddenly too tired and too confused to sort anything out anymore. "I'm really fine, Dudley. Just … you should go back to bed before your dad wakes up or something."

The large boy shifted in his slippers and finally muttered, "Mum an' dad are gonna keep you in here all week. I thought … well … at night I can let you out for the loo and stuff … And I could bring you food. If you want."

Harry blinked in shock. Getting a sandwich once was all well and good, but for Dudley to keep offering help was just … odd. "You better not," Harry said warily. "If Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon notice … I'll get punished."

"Maybe I could ask them not to," Dudley suggested in a tiny voice. "And throw a fit if they don't listen?"

"They'll say I freaked you into doing it," Harry growled, suddenly feeling angry and frustrated. "Please, Dudley, just go and leave me be!"

Dudley stared, looking startled and hurt, but he didn't move.

"You never cared before," Harry hissed, years of frustration and anger boiling to the surface. "Now you only care 'cause you're scared of the Professor. Well, I hope he comes back and I hope he takes me away from here forever so you guys don't have to deal with the Freak anymore! Why can't you just leave me alone?!"

Dudley flinched from his cousin's words and his face twisted with hurt and anger. He turned and slammed the cupboard door loud enough to wake up Uncle Vernon. Harry flinched and started to tremble, pressing both of his shaking hands over his mouth, horrified at himself for going off on his cousin like that. He never would have dared to do something like that before. Dudley had just been trying to help him!

He listened to Dudley's feet pounding back up the stairs and tears burned their way from his eyes as he muffled his sobs with his hands. He wanted to tell his cousin that he was sorry, and thank him for caring. It shouldn't matter why he cared. Harry had longed for somebody, anybody, to notice and care for years. Now that he got one person, he pushed them away. He didn't even understand why he'd felt so angry. Uncle Vernon was sure to wake up, and after he checked on Dudley, he would come down and drag Harry out of the cupboard. His back burned with pain and Harry choked on tears of fear. He didn't want to get beaten again so soon.

The dog shifted again and suddenly he felt an arm around his trembling body. "Hush," a rasping voice rumbled in his ear. "Hush, it's alright, Pup. I've got you."

"H-he was o-only try-trying to h-help," Harry sobbed softly, clutching the man and weeping into his shirt. "N-now I r-ruined e-everything!"

"Shhh!" the man whispered frantically. "Can you hear that?"

Harry froze and held his breath. Uncle Vernon was plodding out of his room now. The boards were creaking under the man's ponderous weight. Harry shuddered violently and clung more tightly to the Snuffles-godfather-man.

"I won't let anything happen to you," the man's rough voice soothed him. "I promise I won't let him touch you."

Harry moaned softly, wanting to tell the man, or dog, or whoever he was, to leave before he got hurt, but it felt so good to have strong, warm arms around him. It reminded him of the Professor, even though it was different somehow. He hated himself for being so weak and stupid, just falling into the first person to give him a hug … but then, he wondered if that was even true. He had not liked the bearded Headmaster to hug him, even though he let it. This was not like that. A strong hand was caressing his head, combing through his messy hair, and he found himself relaxing in the man's hold. It was so nice to be comforted, so nice to be held, and he was ashamed of himself for loving it so much and for not even bothering to worry that he was still naked, and he was being held by a stranger who could apparently turn into a dog. He just wanted to be held and protected, and he didn't really care who was holding him so firmly and gently. He could hear a rapid heartbeat thumping under his ear and he wondered if the man was afraid. Harry knew that his own heart was kicking against his ribs like a trapped rabbit and it hurt.

Uncle Vernon was thumping down the stairs now and Harry's excellent ears caught the sound of him growling and grumbling under his breath. He sounded angry at being woken up, and he would probably use his fists to punish his nephew tonight. The boy began to tremble again, terrified of his Uncle's wrath.

"I'll protect you, Harry," the Snuffles-man whispered firmly. "Don't be afraid."

How could he not be afraid? His whole backside was throbbing in remembrance of his punishment and his teeth had begun to chatter with terror. But Harry did not answer. He just clutched the man's shirt even tighter, shaking with the effort to curl up into an invisible ball against the man's chest.

The cupboard was yanked open and Harry gasped before bursting into tears, hiding in the Snuffles-man's cloak.

"Now see here, you freaky liddle …" Uncle Vernon trailed off.

Harry felt his wrists being gripped gently by the man he was holding onto. Harry let go of the shirt, and the man stood, looking terrible and huge in the small closet. His black cloak swirled around his tall body, making him look like some sort of ghost or avenging spirit. Uncle Vernon was frozen with his mouth hanging open, and his face looked very pale in the faint moonlight that filled the hallway. Harry watched the whole thing in a kind of fascinated horror.

Very deliberately, the cloaked man reached out and grabbed Uncle Vernon around the throat before lunging forward, throwing the two of them across the hall where they began to fight on the floor. Uncle Vernon couldn't shout with the man's hands around his windpipe, and the man was beating his head against the floor and wall. Uncle Vernon flailed and gurgled helplessly and Harry sat up straighter, staring at the sight in shock. Was the Snuffles-man going to kill his Uncle?

"No…" Harry whimpered. He clutched his blanket around himself and stumbled upright, staggering out of his cupboard to the two men wrestling on the floor. Uncle Vernon suddenly stopped moving and Harry choked in fear.

"No!" he shouted, almost sobbing. "Stop it!" Harry threw himself on the cloaked man, struggling to pull him loose. "Don't kill him, Snuffles!"

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Sirius Black gave himself over to the fury, the hate, the darkness. He grabbed the bloated, vile, monster around the throat, originally intending to simply punch him and knock him unconscious, but he lost control. Having this child abuser by the throat was simply so satisfying, so right, that he didn't let go to deliver his punch. He threw the man on the floor, mania gleaming in his eyes, and proceeded to choke the life out of the beast who dared to hurt his godson. The Uncle stared up at him with absolute terror, clawing and flailing helplessly as his face turned red, then purple, and then blue as Sirius pounded the bloated head into the ground and squeezed the flabby neck until his arms shook with strain. The awful gagging noises of strangulation were so very satisfying to Sirius' ears, and the expression of helpless fear on the vile man's face only made Sirius grin and press down harder. The man's movements slowed, his eyes rolled up, and he went limp, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth. Sirius almost laughed at his easy victory, but the fog and the ringing in his ears cleared abruptly and he heard a voice, the sweetest voice in the world, sobbing with fear.

"No! Stop it!" A small body slammed into his and tried to drag him away. Small arms wrapped around his waist and pulled with surprising strength. "Don't kill him, Snuffles!" Harry cried, sobbing with fear.

Sirius gasped and jerked his hands away from the bloated bastard's fatty neck as he blinked in shock. What had he done? He felt cold and sick at the thought of what he had been doing, and right in front of his godson who wasn't even nine years old yet! His hood had fallen off, making his head feel strangely exposed, and his whole body shook with adrenaline.

"Merlin," Sirius muttered unsteadily. He reached up with shaking hands and wiped cold sweat off his face. What had he done?

"Don't kill him, please don't!" Harry was sobbing into his side. "Please, please don't let him be dead!"

Awkwardly, Sirius reached around and hugged his godson with one arm, trying to comfort him. With his free hand, he reached out and pressed his fingers against the side of Dursley's neck, holding his breath lest he be proved a murderer. He wasn't sure why he was so relieved to find a weak, thready pulse, but he actually let out a breathless laugh.

"He's still alive, Harry," he whispered hoarsely, reaching over and hugging the child tightly, aware that they were both trembling. "Don't worry; I didn't kill him … though I wanted to. he deserved it ... and worse."

Harry burst into relieved tears and sagged against him, and Sirius managed to pick the weeping child up and climb off Dursley's ample body. Harry's little blanket slipped off the child's shoulders as Sirius picked him up, and true to his earlier suspicions, the boy wasn't wearing anything under it. Sirius' hands caught the feeling of swollen welts on the child's bony back and he suppressed the urge to growl as Harry whimpered and squirmed in pain. He really, really wanted to put Harry down and go finish the job. Dursley didn't deserve to live after hurting his godson so badly. The man deserved to die by the cruciatus curse for his horrific treatment of a helpless child. Sirius saw red as he struggled to clamp down his murderous emotions. Going off and killing the overweight monster wouldn't help Harry. It would upset the sweet, compassionate boy, and it would only complicate things. As it was, Sirius really had to get out of here, and like it or not, Harry had to come along. There was no way he was leaving Harry here to face the wrath of the overweight monster when he inevitably woke up.

He set the sobbing boy down on his feet beside the cupboard door and draped the little blanket back around Harry's shoulders for privacy. He grabbed the duffel bag from just inside the cupboard, desperate to find something to put on his godson and furious with the Dursleys for locking the boy away from his clothes. He wanted to tear them apart with his bare hands, but Harry needed him right now. He took a deep breath and promised himself 'later'. Some other time he would catch the Dursleys and show them the meaning of fear. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting his godson away from these monsters.

Harry seemed too distraught to care as Sirius searched through the bag and pulled out a rolled up pair of sweat-pants and a T-shirt. A bit more rummaging found underpants and socks, and even a woolen jumper and a pair of shoes, and he quickly dressed the boy. Harry submitted, and gradually stopped crying. He just seemed exhausted. At least he wasn't shivering anymore now that he had a fair bit of cloth between his skin and the chilly night air.

"Go ahead and pack whatever you want to bring," Sirius ordered him a bit gruffly. "I'm not leaving you here tonight."

He was relieved when Harry silently obeyed, quickly disappearing back into his prison. Sirius stood up and glanced over at the huge man lying prone in the hallway. He really didn't care if the nasty bully ever woke up, and he wasn't going to drag him anywhere more comfortable. Let him wake right here in front of the cupboard and maybe he would understand why he had been attacked. It wouldn't matter anyway, he thought. Harry was never coming back here.

"I'm r-ready, sir," Harry's whisper from behind startled him. Sirius spun around and saw that the boy was holding the duffel bag. It looked fuller now than it had been, but still, for a little boy to able to fit all of his possessions in one little bag was really pitiful.

"You can just call me Snuffles," Sirius coughed in embarrassment, pulling his hood back on before Harry could get a good look at his face. "Better'n calling me 'sir', anyway. Are you sure that's all you've got? Because we're not coming back."

Harry shook his head, his face pale in the moonlight. "I don't have anything else," he whispered.

"Alright then," Sirius muttered. He reached out and took Harry by the hand, relieved that the boy didn't flinch away. He took a deep breath and felt for his lock-picking penknife. "Let's go."

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Harry didn't want to ask where they were going. He didn't ask why they left his cupboard door wide open or his Uncle lying so still on the floor. He was glad Uncle Vernon wasn't dead, but he still felt horrible about it. He knew it wasn't really his fault and that the Snuffles-man was only trying to protect him, but he was used to being blamed for anything that went wrong in this house. As the man led him past the stairs, Harry looked up and saw Dudley sitting halfway up, hugging himself and staring at them. He looked terribly scared and confused, and all Harry could do was silently wave good-bye, since he didn't want the Snuffles-man to see him and go crazy again. He hoped his cousin could see the apology he also wanted to send. He felt bad for hurting Dudley's feelings when all he wanted to do was help. It wasn't Dudley's fault that he had no idea how to help. Harry didn't even know what kind of help he wanted, besides just never coming back here ever again.

The Snuffles-man led him through the kitchen and out the back door. Harry watched as the man somehow locked the door from the outside and then turned to him. Out here under the moon, Harry could see much better, but the Snuffles-man had put his hood back on so he still couldn't see the man's face. The man mumbled under his breath as he rummaged in a pocket and pulled something out that clinked a little. Harry caught one glimpse before he jerked away in terror. Uncle Vernon once chained him up with a dog-collar to punish him, and he had a sudden, awful dread that this stranger was going to put that collar tight around his neck and drag him away on a chain. After all, he was a monster now, wasn't he? A Werewolf belonged on a chain.

But the man just gave him a long (curious?) stare before slowly raising his hand and holding out the collar and a leather leash to him. Harry shivered with horror and made no move to take them. Was the man going to force him to put it on himself? He didn't know if he could stand the humiliation. This was worse than fetching the soap so Aunt Petunia could wash his mouth out!

"Here, go ahead and take 'em," the Snuffles-man whispered gently. "I'm going to shift, and when I'm a dog, you put that on me and we'll go. Not many people'll bother a kid and his dog, an' I'd rather not be seen as a human around here."

Harry blinked in surprise before he timidly took the items. He had not thought of that. It was actually pretty hard to think of this man as Snuffles. The man's body blurred for a minute, almost becoming one with the dark cloak he wore, and suddenly, Snuffles was blinking up at him.

"Wow," Harry whispered in awe. The dog wagged its tail and Harry could almost swear that the dog was preening. The boy chuckled quietly and patted his canine friend on the head. It was really good to have Snuffles back.

Harry crouched down and carefully wrapped the collar around the dog's thick neck. It took a few minutes to secure it because Harry's hands were stiff and clumsy, and he had trouble with the buckle, which was like a belt buckle. He carefully attached the leash and held the other end, not sure what to do next, but Snuffles immediately turned and led the way. Harry followed the dog without hesitation, climbing over the short little fence at the back of the yard and tip-toeing through Mr. and Mrs. Gavin's yard, (avoiding their prize-lilac beds) and heading off down Flora Road, which wrapped around the back of the neighbourhood park. The night air was crisp and Harry was glad of his wool jumper. It had been very thoughtful of the Professor to get it for him, and Harry was glad that the Snuffles-man had found it. Harry suddenly allowed himself to smile. It was a beautiful night and he was free. He had found Snuffles again, (or rather Snuffles found him) and Snuffles was magical and said he loved him. Maybe this time he really wouldn't ever have to go back to the Dursleys. He had been disappointed before, but if Harry weren't so optimistic, he knew he would have died of despair a long time ago.

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Sirius knew where to go, and Padfoot knew the way even better. He led his pup confidently along the dark and silent streets as they made their way out of the neighbourhood. At one o'clock in the morning, if there were nosy gossips peeking out their windows right now he'd eat his tail. He relaxed, knowing that he and Harry were more than safe right now. But they had a long walk ahead of them. He didn't want to take public muggle transportation, for fear that someone would call police on Harry since he looked like a runaway. He couldn't afford to apparate anywhere near here for fear that the Aurors would see and guess it was him, so his best option would be to get close to a magical community and use a portkey, which was a common enough magical thing that he doubted anybody would investigate to see if Sirius Black was capable of creating his own portkeys. The answer to that was yes, he was very good at making portkeys. Lily had coached him a bit back during the war, but he hadn't needed very much help. Frank had also given him pointers on how to make his portkeys untraceable, even by Ministry standards, and he was eternally grateful, since he was relying on that to keep his destination a secret.

The only problem was that they had fifteen miles to walk, and it wasn't even a real magical community. It was a cluster of homes in the middle of nowhere, and some grumpy loners lived there, including an old friend of his: Mundungus Fletcher. The wizard thief and scumbag used to work for the Order of the Phoenix, and he never told anyone where he lived. James assumed that the underworld contact lived under a bridge somewhere, but Sirius had figured out where the fellow really called home. The people there mostly kept to themselves, and Sirius wasn't planning on bothering them. He was simply going to use the proximity of their community as a screen to keep Aurors off his back. It was better that they have no idea where he could be than for them to go popping in and out of muggle neighbourhoods because he decided to be lazy. Besides, Sirius assumed that it was not completely impossible to trace his untraceable portkey. There was always a loophole in the loopholes that nobody told you about until it was too late.

They turned down a dark street, and Padfoot noted that the neighbourhood here looked run down compared to the last few streets. The road had potholes and the fence around a vacant, condemned lot needed to be replaced. He picked up on Harry's uneasiness right away and wondered what the boy had to fear. He whined reassuringly and nuzzled the boy's hand, coaxing him on. This was the quickest way to escape the suburb, since he had no wish to be dodging traffic with a child in tow. Harry took a deep breath and kept walking. Padfoot stayed close, nudging the boy's leg comfortingly when Harry started to tremble.

"This …" Harry suddenly spoke, his small voice sounding too loud in the stillness. "This's where the wolf caught me."

Sirius perked up, feeling furious all over again with Remus. That idiot Werewolf should have known better. How in the world had Remus allowed Moony to come so far into muggle territory?

"I thought I was gonna die," Harry said quietly. "But the Professor found me here and took me home."

Which Professor? Padfoot silently wondered. He whined again and nuzzled Harry's knee with his nose. The boy was tense and nervous until they left the potholed road and stepped out onto a wider road that ran parallel to the main motorway. They followed this road for some time until they left all of the houses and lights of the town far behind. When they reached a lightning-split tree, Padfoot pulled Harry with him up the steep incline to the highway. This late, there were only a few cars on the highway, and there were long silent stretches when the road was empty. They scrambled over the metal railing that prevented cars from pitching down the incline onto the rough country road below and crouched down to watch the highway. Harry was panting from their little climb, and Padfoot waited for the boy to catch his breath and for the road to clear completely before bolting across the blacktop. To his surprise, Harry kept up with him easily and they made it to the other side without incident. They didn't even see the headlamps of any cars until they were safely hurrying through the open meadow. Padfoot slowed their pace when they reached some sparse woodlands and began to follow an old game trail that wound through the hills. From here, it was more or less a straight run to the little cluster of houses where he would activate his portkey. It only took a little more than an hour to get out of Little Whinging.

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Harry was glad when Snuffles decided to stop. It had been hours and hours of walking and running and scrambling over fences and his whole body hurt. But it was a good hurt. His muscles burned and his feet could barely move anymore, yet he felt good because he was really free. The Dursleys were far away and he was here in the middle of nowhere with Snuffles. The sky was still dark, but the moon had disappeared and the air was still and cold. The stars overhead burned brightly and they couldn't hear insects or night birds anymore. The trees were getting thicker and the grass underfoot reached up to Harry's knees. It was a nice spot Snuffles had found, and the boy was definitely ready for a long rest.

The dog nudged him into the yawning opening of a hollow tree and Harry crawled in. He sighed as he rubbed his aching legs and happily curled up on the bed of crisp leaves, using his duffel bag as a pillow. Snuffles curled up next to him and let out a long yawn. Harry yawned too, and his stomach growled. He closed his eyes, used to going to sleep on an empty stomach, and he didn't notice when Snuffles moved away from him.

A human hand suddenly touched his shoulder and Harry jumped, startled.

"Sorry, sorry," the Snuffles-man whispered. "I thought you might like something to eat before you go to sleep."

"No sir, I'm fine," Harry replied automatically, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He wondered how he'd missed the man transforming, and watched as the fellow undid the loose collar around his neck before rummaging in his cloak. He produced a sandwich wrapped in paper and held it out to Harry. The boy stared at it incredulously, wondering where the man had been keeping it. The sandwich looked fresh and it didn't even appear smashed. How was that even possible?

"Take it," the man said gently, almost teasingly, and shoved it in his hands. Harry unwrapped it and practically inhaled the thing. It was plain ham and cheddar on wheat bread, but not many things had ever tasted so good. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was until he started eating. Harry was suddenly distracted from his sandwich by a silvery bottle the man was holding in front of his face. Harry just stared at it, wondering whether he was supposed to take it or comment on how nice it looked.

"Water?" the man offered, wiggling the bottle in invitation.

Harry blushed at his stupidity and took it gratefully. He was surprised at how cool and nice the water tasted. Even though the bottle looked like metal, the water didn't taste metallic. The man pulled another sandwich out of his cloak-pocket and two apples.

When the Snuffles-man pulled a couple of blankets from his cloak next, Harry actually grinned, wondering how much stuff the magic pockets held. "I wish I had pockets like that," he said wistfully.

Snuffles chuckled and wrapped the warm blanket around Harry's shoulders. "It's an Undetectable Extension charm. Pretty useful, wouldn't you say?"

"Magic?" Harry asked softly, stroking the soft blanket reverently. He had never touched anything so nice.

"Yep," the man replied cheerfully, scooting closer and wrapping an arm over his shoulders. "Don't worry, you'll see more. I'll show you so much magic you'll be sick of it."

"Where're we going?" Harry asked sleepily, grateful that the man was sitting next to him so he could snuggle closer to the nice warmth.

"To a house your dad gave me a long time ago," the man replied softly, gently wrapping the blanket around Harry like a cocoon. "I just went back there a few days ago and fixed it up for us. We'll be safe there."

"You … you knew my dad?" Harry whispered, feeling tears burning the back of his throat. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, absolutely refusing to cry again. "What was he like?"

"He was a prankster," the man replied at once. Harry could hear the happy smile in his voice and he leaned in, resting his head on the man's chest. "We called him Prongs, and he was just a happy bloke. Always laughing, joking around … he was a good friend. Loyal, and smart, and he knew just what to say to make us feel better …" He trailed off and Harry wondered if that last sound in the man's throat meant he was going to cry. "I miss him," he whispered, his voice finally cracking. "But … you look a lot like him, little Pup. He had this awful messy hair. Never could get it to stay down. His eyes were real bad so he wore glasses. It ran in the family; bad eyesight, and nothing magical or muggle could fix them."

"I used to wear glasses too," Harry murmured, feeling his eyes sliding shut. "I dunno why I don't need them anymore. I can see real good now."

He missed whatever Snuffles said in reply because he drifted off to sleep, feeling happy and safe for the first time since the last night he spent at the Professor's.

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Here is another chapter since the last one was so very short. Enjoy your bonus!