Sorry about the break! I really needed to get some revision in. If anyone else is doing exams right now, good luck! Anyway, on with the story…
Crowley, Aziraphale and Lupin huddled around the fragment of paper. Lupin translated the code slowly; it had been a long time since he had used it on a regular basis.
"He'll be there on February the second," Lupin said, looking up from the paper at last, "At midnight."
"Is that all?" Crowley asked. The paper had quite a lot of writing squeezed onto it, surely it said more than that.
"That's all that we need to know," Lupin replied, "the rest is…personal."
They didn't press him. In fact, they never found out what Sirius Black had written to Lupin on the old poster from Hogsmeade. Instead, Aziraphale asked,
"Does he sound pleased to hear from you?"
"I think so. He clearly wants his name cleared."
"So, he's definitely innocent?" Crowley asked.
"I'm certain," Lupin looked earnest, "this letter wasn't written by a mad man. It was written by someone wrongfully accused. He says there's a lot more he needs to say, and he'll say it at the meeting."
"Hopefully he'll explain why he's hanging around Hogsmeade," Aziraphale said.
They left soon after, having planned when to meet before making the journey to the shrieking shack. Crowley turned to hurry off, but Aziraphale stopped him.
"Don't tell Harry yet," he said earnestly, his eyes filled with concern.
"But we know he's innocent," Crowley protested, "come on angel, we have to tell him. He'll only fall into it all on his own if we don't get him involved on ourselves. And then he could be in danger. Sirius Black might not be after him, but those dementors are still hanging around, and they don't care who they get."
"Wait until after the meeting, please Crowley," Aziraphale looked desperate, "when we have all the facts. Then you can answer all his questions."
"No."
Crowley said nothing else. He looked angry, his face set. Aziraphale was left alone in the corridor as he marched off.
…
He couldn't find Harry among the press of students hurrying about on their way to lessons, so he decided to keep Harry behind after his third-year lesson that day. All through the morning he felt tense and distracted, running through what he would say in his head. He was worried that Harry would be angry with him for not telling him about Black sooner. But Harry had to know. It was only fair, especially as it seemed that everyone else knew that he was his godfather at least. He felt guilty, thinking about Aziraphale's worried face, but he wasn't backing down.
Finally, his third year Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson came around. Sure enough, harry was there, looking tired out. Lupin had said that he had worked hard in their anti-dementor lesson last night. As the lesson ended, Crowley called Harry back.
"Potter, could you stay behind please," he said, trying to sound relaxed, but even to him his voice sounded slightly tense and urgent.
Harry looked up nervously, walking over to the desk where Crowley stood. Crowley shot him a reassuring smile, and his shoulders slumped a little. Ron and Hermione hung about, as if they hoped Crowley would forget to send them out, but he shooed them outside, closing the door as they left. Crowley and Harry sat opposite each other, the desk between them. Crowley took a deep breath.
"I need to talk to you about the black dog," he said.
He had decided that clearing up the mystery of the black dog first would make Harry more receptive to hearing what he was going to say.
"Did you find out what it was?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"How?" Harry asked, before Crowley could gather his thoughts and tell him about Black.
"We got Hermione's cat to take a message to him."
"Him?" Harry was really disrupting Crowley's plan now.
"The dog isn't a dog. Sirius Black is an animagus, and the dog is his animal form."
"What?"
Crowley kicked himself. He really should have taken that more slowly. Now Harry looked as if he didn't believe him.
"The dog is Black. He's an animagus," he repeated.
He had expected Harry to be stunned into silence, but he had still more questions to throw at him.
"I thought you said he wasn't dangerous?"
Crowley had been hoping he wouldn't ask that. He wasn't sure how to say that Black was innocent.
"We don't think he is. We think he's innocent."
Harry sat back, not knowing how to react. Crowley ploughed on.
"We've been trying to catch him for a while, and that included reviewing his previous crimes. And it didn't add up, so we've been trying to prove his innocence ever since," he paused, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner Harry, but I wanted to make sure I had all the information."
Harry looked at him appraisingly. The anxious pain in Crowley's chest dissipated. He had done it right.
"Don't go yet Potter, there's a lot more I need to tell you," he grinned.
"What else is there?" Harry asked. He looked excited, but nervous.
"You have to promise to listen to all of it," Crowley said, "don't run off halfway."
"Ok." Harry looked more tense now, wondering what Crowley was about to say.
"Firstly, you need to know that Sirius Black was your father's best friend and is technically your godfather."
Harry didn't speak. Crowley was certain that he was addressing this the wrong way, but he didn't know how to tell Harry this news. He continued.
"He was your father's secret keeper when your parents went into hiding. They used a charm called the fidelius charm, and only their secret keeper could betray their location. But it seems, and indeed the wizarding population believes that he betrayed them to Voldemort."
Harry sat for what seemed like an hour. Several emotions passed over his face. Surprise, anger, sadness, he finally settled on confusion.
"I thought you said he was innocent?"
"We think he is. We don't know who betrayed your parents. But we are going to find out."
"We?"
"Me, and Professor Fell. And Lupin," Crowley was not planning to withhold anything. He hoped Lupin would not be angry.
"Lupin?"
"He was your father's friend too. He didn't tell you because he doesn't want to be associated with Black. It could cost him his job. So, don't be angry with him," Crowley said quickly.
"What else?" Harry asked, seeming to sense that there was more. He said nothing about Lupin, and Crowley wasn't sure how to interpret that.
"The three of us are meeting Sirius Black in order to find out what happened on February the second."
"Can I come too?"
Crowley had been worried about this. He tried to talk as reasonably as possible.
"I think it would be better if you didn't just yet. It could be dangerous, as Black has been is Azkaban, so even if he is innocent, he might not be safe. There's also the question of the dementors."
"I've been getting lessons on how to fight them, I'll be fine."
"Not yet Potter. Look, once we've met Black, and sorted out his story, I'll tell you everything."
"I want to see him," Harry said resolutely, "Please Professor."
"We can organise for you to meet him later, in safer conditions."
"Do you promise?" Harry asked, his face determined.
"Yes," said Crowley. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.
Harry nodded slowly, "Ok."
…
The night of the second was cloudy and starless. They flitted across the grounds, Aziraphale anxiously glancing over his shoulder, but carefully ignoring Crowley. Relations between them had been tense since he told Harry about Black. However, Crowley was confident the angel would forgive him soon; nothing bad had come of it. he wasn't looking forward to when Aziraphale found out about his promise to Harry though. He gazed ahead resolutely; he would worry about that when the time came.
The whomping willow loomed out of the darkness, its branches dancing gently, as if they were only swaying in the wind. They approached with caution however, that tree was deadly.
Lupin grabbed a long stick from the ground and reached it toward a knot hole on the swaying tree. It just reached. The tree froze, and they clambered through its stiff branches to reach a hole that had opened up at the bottom.
The passageway was dark, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and dust coated the floor. They crept along it, feeling as though silence was necessary, though there was nobody about. It seemed to go on forever, the way ahead lost in darkness.
They reached a door, half hidden by a layer of cobwebs and dust. Lupin shuddered at the sight of it, the memory of hundred painful transformations flooding back to him. He pushed it gently, and it opened. Aziraphale could imagine the young Lupin coming down the endless dark passageway once a month, to be locked up here, shut in the dark as he changed into a terrible beast. He wanted to say something, but, for once, he didn't know what to say.
Broken furniture was pushed up against the wall. Claw marks were gouged into the wooden walls of the shack. The door they had come in through was scratched deeply, almost through the wood in some places. There was no sign of Black.
"Did he say whereabouts in the shack we were supposed to meet him?" Crowley asked, trying to keep the tone light. It was his version of comforting words for Lupin. Aziraphale had often thought that for a demon Crowley was very sympathetic. He too knew how their friend was feeling.
"No," Lupin whispered.
Aziraphale scanned the floor. The dust lay a centimetre thick in places. There were no footprints, or pawprints.
"He hasn't arrived yet," he muttered.
They sat down tentatively on the floor. Aziraphale looked about him, watching Lupin, who seemed nervous. Aziraphale knew this must be hard for him, that he would be worrying that Black would be angry with him for not helping him out. He wondered if Sirius Black had known the second wasn't a full moon, or if it was just a coincidence. Then again, it wasn't close to either side of the full moon either, so maybe Black had been thinking about his friend when he chose the date.
They were not waiting long. Soon there was a sound of running feet and another door creaked open, pushed by the nose of an enormous black dog.
The dog turned into Sirius Black. He was a frightening sight, his hair unwashed and hanging in greasy curtains about his face, which was like that of a skull. Aziraphale supposed he must once have been handsome, but now his face was lifeless, except for his eyes, which shone brightly. Aziraphale could imagine him laughing once, long ago, in the Hogwarts grounds maybe, with his best friends. It hurt to think of a happy young boy becoming this, especially when it wasn't his fault. The true meaning of their mission washed over him at the sight of Black's wasted countenance. An innocent man had spent twelve years in Azkaban, with those dementors. They were going to make sure he never went back.
"Hello," he said.