The Secret Keeper 20
The Secret Keeper
Chapter XX

As the distant crimson sun finished its slow westward passage over the still horizon darkness descended, black and stifling, over the windswept fortress of Azkaban. The towering black walls of the prison reached up to the heavens as a single gigantic shadow, ominous and frightening in its proportions, while the great expanse of violent sea stretching out before it crashed mercilessly into the imposing façade carrying away the rancid stench of death and decay. Five lone, very weary figures emerged from a sea-front cave, struggling against the strong winds and the flying spray, their hunched, defeated forms illuminated in the glistening light of a half-moon, as they proceeded slowly along the rocky coastline, making for a solitary quay on the eastern-most extremity of the island. All around them, the maddening screams and cries of a thousand invisible gulls and terns battled to be heard over the crashing of waves and the whistling of the air through hidden cracks in the jagged outcrop. Still, the quintet fought their way through the elements, creeping as near to the cliff walls as possible, their tiny forms too insignificant to bring any sanity to the crazed, deafening scene around them.

Sirius had never been so cold and wet in his life, at least that was what his mind kept informing him, over and over, in a whining, disgusted tone of voice as he shivered under his thin, waterlogged summer robes, which clung to the front of his body and flapped heavily against the back of his legs, soaking him periodically as he forced his way against the wind. He reminded himself that he had almost certainly been this cold before, his previous escape from the Azkaban coastline leaving him almost paralytic with hypothermia on a deserted beach for days, whilst the seagulls continually dive-bombed his apparent carcass in search of food, and the ants built a homely nest in his long hair. Nevertheless, the knowledge that he had been far worse off than this brought little comfort to his freezing bones, and so the little, nagging voice maintained its incessant protest with all the authority and determination of a scratched record playing a dreadful tune.

Harry miraculously stumbled along beside him, silent and determined, his face hidden in the darkness as Sirius turned to check on his progress. He had said little since the sudden, unexpected pain in his scar and Wormtail's escape with Lord Voldemort's wand. Sirius understood his hurt, however, and let him be, only occasionally stopping to ask if he needed help climbing over the many slippery boulders that littered their path. Harry was undoubtedly suffering in the knowledge that he now had no way to resurrect his parents. Sirius suspected he was admonishing himself for not having said more to them when he had the chance, and feared that he would no longer have the strength to keep going. It was the joy of having his beloved parents returned to him that had sustained him thus far, through capture, torture and a near-fatal stab wound administered by his own best friend. Now, however, what had Harry to look forward to?

Sirius knew that he was a poor substitute for James and Lily, but vowed to do his utmost to give Harry the happiness and stability in his life he craved, presuming, of course, that he managed to get his companions off the island and to safety. Unfortunately, that was becoming increasingly difficult to achieve, considering that his own rather sketchy memory of the prison layout did not seem to tie in with Snape's more recent impressions.

Sirius could have sworn the quay was located on the eastern side of the island, near that enormous eroded sea arch, but Snape had dryly insisted there was no such arch anywhere near Azkaban and that Sirius was probably thinking of some other prison he had spent time in. That had, of course, led to quite a heated exchange of curses and fists, in which the words, "Your mother," and, "So fat," were just barely intelligible amidst the punches and insults, much to Arabella's chagrin and Ron's amusement. Sirius had eventually emerged triumphant, with a particularly inciteful fling at Snape's third year date for the Hogsmeade Christmas Ball. And so, they were now travelling east, Sirius strategically separated from Snape by a fierce-looking Arabella and Ron. He had not said a word since, all attempts at conversation dying at the thought of the expression he knew to be etched into Arabella's furious, no-nonsense visage.

Smiling privately to himself in the darkness, Sirius wondered why he allowed himself to be bossed into submission by his former lover. Arabella just had a way about her, he thought lovingly, an almost teacher-like authority that brooked no disobediance or childlike behaviour. Sirius had to admit, however, that he found her domineering streak rather sexy, if a little overbearing at times, and it was that which had attracted him to her in the first place. Laughing faintly, he recalled Moony's astonished reaction to the news that he was going to ask her out on a date. What?! Are you crazy? You're asking that, that Thatcherish woman, to a ball? Geez, Padfoot, I didn't realise you had a thing for domination! It had been so funny listening to his friend's well-intended offers to be more violent during the next full moon, granting him the brutal confrontation he seemed to be craving. At that time, Lupin just couldn't understand how anyone could be attracted to such an interfering, bossy woman, himself preferring the quiet, thoughtful sort. It hadn't taken long, however, for all of Sirius' friends to get to know Arabella's kind and giving nature, and to accept her warmly and gratefully into their clique. Not a day had gone by when the Marauders had regretted that decision, for she had proved a loyal and intensely considerate friend, especially to Lily. The trust they had in her had finally culminated in the Potters' decision to appoint her as Harry's godmother, a role that she had devoted her life since to fulfilling. If only Harry could see it that way though, Sirius reflected.

He still wasn't sure what to make of his godson's opinions on Arabella. It was a terrible shame that they had gotten off to a bad start, especially since it cast an unfavourable and wholly undeserved shadow on Arabella's efforts to protect Harry during his childhood. Sirius wanted his godson to appreciate the sacrifice and the kindness it had taken for Arabella to leave the wizarding world for the dull Muggle environment of Privet Drive, and to go to all the trouble of befriending the intolerable Dursleys, despite all the horror stories of that family Lily had entertained her with over the years. He wanted Harry to hear what Dumbledore had already told him about the many attempted attacks on Four Privet Drive in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, attacks that had largely been thwarted by the constant vigilance of Arabella and her ever-watchful cats. Above all, however, he wanted Harry to love Arabella as a surrogate mother, and to see for himself the special qualities that had so endeared her to Lily and James. Sirius knew that if only Harry was willing to give her a chance then he would begin to love her with the same affection that Sirius himself bore for her. How could anyone not fall in love with 'Bella? She's gorgeous-

As thoughts of Arabella warmed Sirius' chilled body, he continued to scramble through the waist-high limestone pavement, the insides of his aged leather boots now sloshing in water as the coastline became suddenly quite narrow. The rocks rose up on either side of him, providing some seaweed-covered support for his numb hands as he moved forward through the difficult channel. He soon found he had to concentrate quite hard on where he was putting his feet, so jagged and uneven was the ground beneath him, and despite his best efforts he still had difficulty navigating his way in the wind, the blown spray and the almost complete darkness. He had long ago realised the futility of trying to hold up a lighted wand when constantly having to grab onto the nearest unmoving object to stop himself from slipping. Harry now had to walk behind him, as did the others in single file, presumably with Snape bringing up the rear, so narrow was the passage through which they walked.

Sirius just hoped that the increasing depth of water around his ankles had more to do with the eroded coastline than the approach of the tide. Well, at least a quick and easy Wingardium Leviosa would propel them up the cliffs if necessary. Or bring us halfway up and then make us drop to a messy end on the rocks below...

The passage of the five companions over the difficult terrain was painfully slow and awkward, especially for Harry who, although he had not complained, was clearly suffering from the effects of the poison, vomiting and weakening unexpectedly. Sirius was also concerned about the lack of visibility. What with the darkness and the seawater that kept blowing in his eyes, he was afraid of walking blindly past the quay in the night. For this reason, he would have to rely on occasional stops to light his wand and get his bearings, or perhaps on sensing the Dementors assembled on the quay, assuming of course that he had correctly guessed their intentions.

Sirius was also aware that the quay was not the only thing being concealed from him in the dark; there were sure to be Death Eaters pursuing them, especially now that Voldemort was unquestionably alive. Shivering from the cold, fear and exhaustion, he tried not to think about the danger of their situation, reminding himself that anyone trying to follow would be hindered by the unsympathetic landscape. Even on broomstick, it would be difficult to fly against the wind. No, Sirius decided, they were going to escape. In a few days time, the overwhelming sense of icy chill, hunger and weariness would be nothing but a painful, and unforgettable, memory.

Another gigantic wave crashed in against the shore, drowning Sirius and each of his companions in a shower of freezing cold seawater. These enormous watery masses had been hitting with even greater frequency over the last hour, usually following an incongrous period of calm, leaving him spluttering and gasping for air and almost knocking him off his feet with their awesome power. He shuddered at the sensation of the icy liquid rolling unchecked down his back as he licked at the salt encrusting his lips, feeling suddenly very hungry indeed. No wonder, he thought angrily, since he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning. Banishing all thoughts of food from his head with the accomplished skill of one long-accustomed to deprivation, he kept moving, aware only of the chattering of his teeth and of the deafening deluge bashing unceasingly against the rocks. Thank God we didn't decide to swim.

He hadn't been walking long, however, when he became aware of yet another ominous lull in the sea's steady bombardment of the coast. Cursing under his breath, he turned around and called out loudly to Harry, who was only a few feet behind him. It was disconcerting to actually be able to hear his own voice as he spoke, but this did not last long.

"I think there's another one-" he wailed.

He was cut off as yet another mini-tsunami walloped him full in the chest, this time knocking him off his feet into the narrow and unaccomodating cleft below. Aching all over, Sirius heaved himself upright, and turned his back to the sea in order to speak to his companions. He had to yell to be heard.

"You okay to keep going?"

Arabella shrugged and waved her hands senselessly in his direction, mouthing indiscernably. Sirius stared blankly at her.

"I said- I said- damn!"

Sirius ducked as yet more water crashed onto the rocks, spraying him from head to waist. Shaking his head exasperatedly, he motioned for them all to hunch down into the small passage for some shelter.

"Right. At least we can hear each other now. What are we going to do? We can't go on like this".

"How much further is it?" Arabella asked, wringing her hair to one side.

"I don't know. I can't even tell if there are dementors around here since it's so bloody cold anyway".

"You had better be right about that pier, Black!" Snape spat angrily as he wiped his face with his soaking wet sleeve.

Before he could retaliate, Arabella gripped his arm as if trying to pour some calm into him. Relaxing slightly, Sirius nodded reassuringly and returned the gesture before taking out his wand and muttering a quick, "Lumos!". He pointed his wand out to sea and raised his hand to shelter his eyes from the spray as he gazed out onto the black horizon.

"I can't see a thing in this," he groaned, "It could be right in front of us, for all I know".

"Couldn't one of us just Apparate there and come back with a portkey?" Arabella tried.

Snape sniggered meaningfully, but did not condescend to answer what he considered to be a painfully stupid question. Sirius was finding it increasingly difficult to restrain his ever-growing temper. Taunting him was one thing, but taunting Arabella was a different matter entirely.

"Watch what you say, Snape," he warned, "This passage is very narrow and it has just occurred to me how very much more room there would be without your ugly nose crowding it!"

"That's it, Black! If you say one more thing about my nose, I'll-"

"You'll what? Blow it? That's not a threat, Snape, since I know there's nothing up there with all the time you spend picking it! That's presuming, of course, that your finger hasn't already become permanently wedged..."

"Enough! I see you still haven't matured beyond small-minded insults, but then, you always were the stupid one, weren't you? No wonder you couldn't do better than Potter and the werewolf for friends-"

"Don't you dare insult my friends!"

"Oh, but it's so easy, Black! Potter was such an almighty show-off! I don't know how you could stand him, strutting around the school like he was Merlin himself... no better than his son-"

"You just can't accept that he saved your life, can you? At least I was willing to forgive-"

"You should have gone to Azkaban for what you did," Snape hissed insanely, "I could have been killed".

"It was a childish prank, you idiot! I never meant to kill anyone-"

"Is that what you tell Potter, when he asks why you changed Secret Keepers?"

"That's petty, Snape, even by your standards. Harry knows it wasn't my fault that James and Lily died".

"Oh, you think so?" he asked mildly, an evil grin spreading slowly across his face. " I doubt it. You know him better than that. He's just comforting you, according to his own twisted ideals. He knows you murdered his parents, and I hope he never forgives you for it!"

Sirius could find not find sufficient words to reply. He was numb with shock, some of his worst fears apparently being confirmed by Snape's inconsiderate speech, and found that his lips were quivering soundlessly in a futile attempt at revenge. He just didn't know what to say. Harry's eyes were searching him frantically, but Sirius avoided them. It would be more than he could bear to see the look of accusation and guilt he felt sure Harry's face would betray. It was perfectly understandable, after all. He had killed James and Lily, but to be reminded of that fact so cruelly staggered him. He could feel his body trembling with surpressed rage, and pain building up inside his head. Horrified, he stared back at the despicable, triumphant leer on Snape's loathesome face.

"Duel. Now," he hissed, strangely audible above the crashing of the waves a short distance behind him.

"Sirius, please, can't you talk about this another time?" Arabella begged weakly, knowing she would not be listened to.

Indeed, neither man paid her any attention, both simply continuing to glare daggers at each other.

"Fine. Have it your way, Black. Tell the Potters what I think of their son!"

The two men stood up and climbed onto the rocks without a backward glance. Harry had remained perfectly quiet during the bitter interchange, sitting as if in a daze next to Arabella and Ron. He now sat up slightly to observe the duel taking place on the rocky ledge above him, a strangely exasperated expression on his face.

Sirius took no notice of this and trudged deliberately to a position exactly twenty paces from his opponent, where he drew his wand and bowed. He was well-versed in duelling etiquette, more recently from his Auror training but also from the many times he had sneaked out onto the astronomy tower at Hogwarts to defend somebody's honour, usually not his own. As he eyed the other wizard in distaste, half a dozen likely curses floated through his mind before he raised his wand ready for the attack.

He could tell from the look on Snape's face that this was not going to be a harmless schoolboy scuffle, but the real deal. That was fine by Sirius, who wanted to cause the Slytherin as much pain as possible.

What would Snape try to hit him with first? Would he dare to use an Unforgivable Curse? Sighing, Sirius reluctantly decided to let his enemy cast the first stone; he would not use an Unforgivable Curse until Snape did. Right, think back... Block, disarm, attack... Block, disarm, attack...

Snape did not wait for confirmation that his opponent was ready to begin. With frightening speed he whipped up his wand and yelled an incantation that was inaudible amidst the deafening bombardment taking place against the rocks on which he stood, facing a now completely drenched Sirius. Sirius blocked the bright yellow curse as best he could with a flourish of his wrist, knowing that there was no point in trying to utter a counter-spell if he couldn't tell what he was being hit with in the first place. He would simply have to watch his opponent's wand closely to know when to perform the complicated blocking motion that his father had taught him in his youth. The only problem with this tactic, however, was that he could hardly even see Snape in the pitch darkness.

With the wind gusting against him, Sirius cried out, "Expelliarmus!" and blinked as his opponent was suddenly illuminated in a pulse of dull red light, about five feet to the left of his spell. Sirius quickly compensated by rotating through a couple of degrees. He then steadied himself against the retaliation, thinking vaguely that it was stupid to be dueling in such dreadful conditions. He couldn't even hear his own voice cursing nonstop at the top of his lungs with every barage of water that hit him forcefully in the face like a gigantic snowball fortified with a concealed lump of rock. As Snape's wand glistened in the moonlight, Sirius ducked nimbly and let the curse pass swiftly overhead. He immediately began to roar out another disarming spell when something very strange happened.

As an overwhelming bright burst of red light suddenly engulfed the rocky terrace, Sirius clapped his hands to his eyes and felt his knees buckle in disorientation. At almost the same moment he felt his wand torn from his grasp with inhuman strength, but was powerless to stop it. His initial thought was that Voldemort had found them and that all was lost, but he was too blinded and deafened to fully comprehend what had just happened. Confused and stunned, he cautiously opened an eye and looked around.

Surprisingly, nothing seemed to be amiss. He was now kneeling on the wet limestone pavement in the darkness, with the wind rushing though his hair and the waves soaking his garments; however, his wand was gone. Snape must have hit him, he thought wildly as he searched the ground for escape. Sadly, there was nowhere to hide, and it was only a matter of time before Snape hit him with the Cruciatus Curse, or worse. Defeated, Sirius stood erect, ashamed at having finally been beaten by Snape. He waited.

And he waited. Nothing happened. Confused, Sirius began to move in Snape's direction, his hands outstretched in a gesture of submission, but the other wizard was nowhere to be seen. Oh, God! He's been washed out to sea! Without thinking, Sirius ran to the spot where Snape had been standing moments before and frantically scanned the area. He rushed nearer to the coast and called out Snape's name, aware that his voice did not carry very far in the ferocious gale, and walked around, feeling an inexplicable sense of guilt and fear.

"Snape!" he bellowed, now slinking back to the position where his enemy had apparently fallen.

He almost jumped at the sound of a supremely irritated, whining voice coming from the ground beneath him.

"What? Get it over with, damn it!"

"Snape, are you all right? I thought you'd been washed out to sea, or something-"

"Oh, spare me the Gryffindor side-show! Just kill me and get it over with!"

"What are you talking about? You took my wand..."

"I don't have your bloody wand, Black. You, however, have mine. Now either return it, or use it! ...Honestly, what kind of a wizard loses his wand-"

"Look, I don't have any wand. You hit me with a disarming spell!"

"No, I didn't. You hit me- I couldn't see a thing-"

"No-"

"You disarmed me, Black!"

"No I didn't!"

"Ah, the need to be right - the sign of a vulgar mind".

"Shut up, greaseball. Something's going on here".

"Your powers of deduction astound me".

Sirius stepped past him and began to scan the ground for any obvious clues. It was only then that he noticed the quintet of bobbing white lights down in the narrow cleft where he had left Harry, Arabella and Ron. Frowning and scurrying away from Snape, Sirius went to see what the other three were up to. As he climbed down into the passage, he noticed a surprising multitude of wands.

"Hey! What happened? Where'd you find my wand? I suppose that's Snape's too".

Arabella smiled at him, her teeth glinting in the darkness.

"Harry was getting bored watching the two of you behaving like the children you're not. He performed quite an impressive disarming spell!"

"What?! That was you! Give me that!" he roared, grabbing his lighted wand from Ron's grip.

As Snape climbed into the cleft, conspicuously away from Sirius and Arabella, he snatched his own wand from Arabella and sat down sulkily. Overhead, the silvery spray glittered like a hundred unicorns. Sirius seated himself beside Harry and stared down at him in mock anger.

"I thought you were supposed to be dying? Yet it seems you still have the strength, not the mention the cheek, to steal my wand..."

Harry smiled wanly as he continued to shiver.

"I am dying," he whispered, "That's why I don't have time for your childish behaviour".

"Hah! Pretty rich coming from the kid who blew up his aunt".

"I was provoked!"

"So was I!... Fine, Harry. I'll get him some other time, but I must say I'm disappointed. I would have thought that you, of all people, would be delighted to see me make Snape perform the Quickstep-"

"From the look on your face, I think you were intending something more than the Quickstep. The last thing you want is to be charged with Snape's murder now that you're going to be free again... Just don't let him get to you. Besides, you know what he said was utter rubbish".

"Yeah, 'course I do. I'm sorry, Harry. I'll get him later. You can help if you want".

"Good, I will... Listen, Sirius, this Penna thing is amazing. That was the strongest disarming spell I've ever done".

"It was alright, I suppose," Sirius admitted grudgingly, "Only I was half-blinded by it. Honestly, I thought You-Know-Who was going to come charging down on me any minute".

At the look of fright on Harry's pale face, the smile vanished from Sirius' face, and he automatically regretted mentioning Voldemort. The reminder of what Harry had been through that day stirred him into action.

"Look, Harry. I know you're in pain, but we've got to keep going. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I wasn't the one who stopped for an impromptu duel! I was perfectly happy to keep going-" Harry taunted playfully, his spirits apparently rising at the amused expression on his godfather's face.

Sirius was relieved that Harry could still smile and act somewhat human after all he had been through. He grinned sheepishly and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Right then. If you can walk, then I can control my temper long enough to get home".

Arabella faced them and spoke quietly so that Snape had to strain to hear her words.

"Sorry if this is a stupid question, but would you mind telling me why my suggestion to Apparate was funny?"

Sirius raised fierce eyes to Snape, daring him to speak.

"We're still inside the Apparition wards. They extend over the entire island and for quite a distance out to sea," Sirius explained, "And it wasn't a stupid question".

"How will we find that quay you mentioned? It's too dark," Harry pointed out, voicing Sirius' own concerns.

"Hmm, well, we can't wait for the daylight. We really have to get out of here quickly. The light from my wand just isn't bright enough to see anything-"

"Hey! What if-"

"Oh, God. I can't believe I didn't think of that. Right, everyone!" Sirius called, "On the count of three jump up and throw as many spells as possible! And keep your eyes peeled! One-two-three!"

As the countdown ended, all five leapt to their feet and frantically hurled curses at the water's edge, each of them trying very hard to think of the few curses they knew that actually produced beams of light. The strand was lit up by a heavenly fireworks display, destroyed fragments of rock and seaweed flying in every direction as the spells impacted with their targets. Sirius felt his heart lift at the sight of so many bright lights exploding in tremendous bursts of colour and illuminating the sharp outline of the cliffs in dazzling displays of red, green, gold and yellow. Presently, he put down his wand in order to scan the area now being lit up with the intensity of a summer morning's sunrise. He almost jumped in delight as, slightly to the east of their position and a short distance out to sea, he saw the unmistakable outline of a black pier. As he turned happily to his companions, he caught Snape's eye and was surprised to see that the other wizard was looking equally pleased.

"So. Where's your precious sea-arch, Black?" Snape asked in a cold, malicious voice.

No wonder he was looking so happy, Sirius thought. There was no sign of the arch anywhere.

"What do you think? It eroded, you git!" Sirius spat, before placing a hand on Arabella's back to tell her to cease casting spells.

Arabella looked at him hopefully.

"Did you see it? We were so close all along," she exclaimed.

"I know, so let there never be another fling at my sense of direction, or lack thereof, ever again!" Sirius retorted as he stood up, "Right, let's go!"

The walk to the pier turned out to be a lot more difficult than any of them had anticipated. They had to climb over slippery ten-foot high boulders, all the while compensating for the howling gale that constantly tried to toss them into the Irish Sea. Sirius went in front to assist Harry, while Arabella followed with Ron. Last of all came Snape, who kept a close watch over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit.

Presently they came upon an enormous smooth-surfaced rock, about twice the height of Sirius, that completely dominated their path. Unable to find any imperfections in its flat exterior, Arabella and Sirius employed a mild blasting hex to chisel in some grips for their hands and feet. It was crude but effective, and Sirius stood back to help propel his shorter companions up its front. First went Arabella, who groaned as Sirius' helpful hands accidentally found their way up her robes as he hoisted her towards the lowermost ledge. She kicked him away, none too gently, and managed to scramble up to the peak, where she waited to assist Ron, who had already began his ascent. Being tall and stocky, Ron made it up to Arabella without any assistance, and dropped down the other side.

"Is the landing okay, Ron?" Arabella called.

There was a splash and some cursing before Ron's irritated voice floated back over to them, "Yeah, just wet", and then, "Oh, I can see the start of the pier! It's not far at all".

Sirius grinned at Harry in the darkness and indicated for him to go next. Harry approached the great boulder uncertainly, his eyes searching for the indentations. Sirius walked up behind him and muttered in his ear.

"Right, up you go. I'll push you up to ledge, and then you just have to pull yourself up to the next one and find a grip for your feet. Ready?"

Harry looked like he would never be ready, but nevertheless he extended his arms and bent his knees to spring up the side of the rock. He was still a good deal shorter than Ron, despite the growth spurt he had exhibited over the past few months, but had more sense than to feel any embarrassment at his small stature, and was therefore grateful for the assistance. Sirius took hold of his waist to hoist him up to the ledge, and Harry jumped.

"You got it?" Sirius called breathlessly, still supporting his godson's legs.

"Yeah," came the feeble reply, followed by, "Uh, no," and Harry slid back down, cradling his grazed elbows.

Snape made some impatient noises but Sirius took no notice.

"Okay? Ready to try again?" he asked after Harry had gotten his breath back.

Harry's shoulders slumped resignedly and he turned back around to face the rock.

"All right, just hold on tight when you find the ledge and try to pull yourself up quickly".

"Right," Harry agreed with greater confidence than he felt.

The second attempt was even less successful than the first, with Harry's feeble limbs refusing to propel him up the sharp slope. After a few increasingly exasperated attempts, Harry sank to his knees, gasping for air. The effort involved left him exhausted and glaring at the rock in despair. Sirius was still debating what to do, when there was a sudden commotion at the peak of the boulder. Almost immediately, Ron came racing down the front of the smooth surface head-first, stopping abruptly half-way down.

"Harry, hold onto my arms. Arabella will pull us up".

Sirius spluttered in amazement and glanced up at the top of the boulder, where Arabella was gripping tightly onto Ron's ankles.

"Geez!" he exclaimed, "Hold on, 'Bella, I'll give you a hand".

With that, Sirius sprang nimbly up the rock and took a tight hold of Ron's ankles.

"All right, Harry," Arabella called, "Whenever you're ready-"

"Right now would be good!" Ron moaned through clenched teeth, "They're cutting off my circulation".

It wasn't long before Harry had made it over the rock along with Ron, Sirius and Arabella. Arabella forced them to wait until Snape had joined them, much to Sirius' regret, before setting off on the last leg of their journey. The long pier stretched out into the choppy sea before their eyes, its immense structure flooded with the water that continually crashed against its shallow sides. It resembled a long, narrow wall of rock, completely exposed with no rails to protect those who walked on it. In the illumination cast by another barage of disarming spells, Sirius could discern small mooring posts dotted along its length, but no sailors were foolish enough to moor their vessels in such an open, unprotected location. Sirius' attention was drawn however to a tiny shelter located near the pier's seafront edge. He had been there once before, on his arrival at Azkaban fourteen years ago. It was there that he had been handed the Portkey that had taken him to his miserable cell.

The five approached the pier cautiously, not wanting to be taken unawares by any remaining Dementors or Death Eaters. They halted at its nearest end, eying the watery, windswept gauntlet in fear. Finally Sirius spoke.

"Look, you all had better wait here. I'll run across as Padfoot and see if I can find a Portkey. It'll be easier as a dog. Lower centre of gravity, you know?"

"Be careful, Sirius," Arabella reminded him, "You may have more to deal with out there than the elements".

Sirius gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before dropping on all fours and transfiguring into Padfoot. Arabella ruffled his wet fur a little, and then jammed Sirius' wand into the impressive jaws. She watched anxiously as, with a playful bark and waggling of his tail, he bounded away down the blackened pier.

***

Draco sat shivering on the damp floor with his knees pulled up against his chin, not caring that the hem of his exclusive Dahlia Diggle robes was resting in a pool of brown, sandy mud. His eyes travelled nervously from the green, tennis ball-sized orb lying in the palm of his hand to the pair of hooded Dementors standing in the corner, facing him hungrily but not daring to approach; nor would they, since he was their master, the provider of living prey from which they could feed and add to their hideous population. They obediently kept their distance from him, occasionally sucking in the already cool air in long, low hisses. Right now, however, Draco could tell that they were becoming impatient for the promised feast at Hogwarts, the feast that he was supposed to provide, the feast that he was too cowardly to attend.

He shook his head as if trying to banish the myriad of thoughts and regrets now threatening to overcome his ingrained stony reserve. Why had he gotten himself into this mess? What on earth was he doing sitting in a freezing cold, well, "hut," he decided was the only word for it, much to his disgust, in the company of two extremely dull Dementors? This wasn't exactly the glory he had been told to expect, but then again, he couldn't blame his father for misleading him. No doubt Lord Voldemort had told him to recruit his son using whatever empty promises he deemed necessary, and it would certainly be a lot easier to lie to one's son than to defy the Dark Lord. Draco knew perfectly well how terrible Voldemort could be. He had the agonising evidence of that on his own forearm. No, his father had certainly done the right thing. At least, Draco could not say that he would have acted any differently had he been in his father's position.

As his arm began to ache once more, Draco shifted the small, green ball into his other hand in order to scratch at the inflamed skin. The sight of the Dark Mark on his smooth, pale skin, a sixteenth birthday gift from his parents, always filled him with hatred and disgust, and he looked away while continuing to rub it. A wizard's word of honour wasn't enough for Voldemort. He had to brand his servants, mutilate their bodies, thus offering them a constant reminder of their lowly position in the grander scheme of things. It did not seem right, however, to treat a Malfoy like some lowly farm animal. How was he supposed to feel honoured to bear that mark when it only reminded him of the methods used by Muggle farmers to designate their cattle and sheep? He felt dirty, abused, unimportant. He desperately wanted rid of it, but knew that its removal was impossible. The Dark Mark would remain on his skin throughout his life, an eternal relic of his cowardice and weakness. Potter's gang would laugh at his discomfort the way they laughed at Snape.

The Dark Mark continued to burn dully on his arm, but still Draco did not rise from his position on the floor. What would his father say when he didn't show up for the attack? Voldemort would certainly be furious. Father will have to disown me; that's what I'd do. Damn it. Why did the Dark Lord have to return? This is all bloody Potter's fault, of course. If he hadn't been so desperate to show off and take part in that tournament, it would never have happened. And Potter still has the nerve to think he can go around the school feeling sorry for himself, teary-eyed over Cedric Diggory! It serves him bloody right. Father was right: he's far too cocky for his own good. Deserves everything he gets...

The Dementors suddenly glided stealthily forward, their breath rattling excitedly. Draco frowned and extinguished his wand, his ears straining for whatever sound had distracted his long-robed companions. He could hear nothing above the wind whistling through the creaky floorboards and the waves crashing against the rocks outside. Oh, I'll just let them handle it. Silently, Draco opened the wooden door, admitting a great gust of air. He directed the Dementors outside onto the pier and then returned to the hut, shutting the door behind him. He tightened his grip on the small, green sphere in his hand.If anything happened, at least he would be able to make a fast getaway.

Draco waited impatiently in the darkness, peering through the only window in an attempt to identify the intruder. Most likely it would be one of the Death Eaters, probably his father, coming to investigate his delay. What would he say? As possible excuses began to circulate in his mind, he thought he heard the swift, echoing tramping of many heavy feet. Astonished, he ran to the door and opened it slightly, squinting out into the night air while protecting as much of his body inside the hut as possible. Suddenly, two black shadows whisked past him and dropped off the end of the pier to land in the tumultuous waters with an inaudible splash. Something enormous and silver raced after them, sprinting off into thin air and vanishing.

As frightened as he was, Draco's curiosity got the better of him and he stepped soundlessly outside, pulling the hood of his cloak over his blonde hair against the icy spray. There was no sign of the Dementors. Raising his wand before him, and clutching the green ball in his other hand, he edged down to the end of the pier to see what had fallen down into the sea. The waves smashed madly against the rocks below him, but he could see nothing floating in its surging depths.

Something was moving behind him. Draco quickly straightened his back, inhaling deeply and biting his lower lip.He stood quite still, his wand still held out in front of him over the water. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself; then he swung around. The gale whipped his hood down, but at exactly the same moment he heard a hoarse voice cry out from directly in front of him, "Expecto Patronum!". His eyes opened wide in astonishment, but were suddenly blinded as he found himself facing the crazed face of a charging silver lion. The next thing he knew he was falling, and then terrible, all-embracing icy pain hit him with the force of a hundred knives.

***

As Sirius approached the dark, make-shift cahin he transformed back into human form, and almost immediately felt a wave of cold pierce his bones that he knew to be unconnected to the turbulent storm surrounding the exposed pier. There were Dementors here, of this he was certain. Already he could sense the gloom pervading his thoughts, making him tremble with fear and anticipation. He toyed with the idea of transfiguring back into Padfoot, but unfortunately that would make it impossible for him to look into the only window that stood at eye-level in the cabin's timber walls. He had to know what he was up against, so changing into a dog and just pushing his way in would be a very bad idea indeed. Although he could only sense a few Dementors, he had no way of knowing if anyone else was in the cabin, Death Eaters for instance. No, he decided, he would have to remain in human form and either run or fight if he encountered resistance. Running seemed considerably more attractive considering his past difficulties conjuring a Patronus. Somehow he doubted that one lesson from his godson in a filthy prison cell at Azkaban had been enough to improve his skills in fighting Dementors by any great amount. Nevertheless, he decided to draw his wand, just in case.

He edged up to the window, trying not to make a sound, but as he lined his back against the wall the cold and the sadness he had been feeling for the past while suddenly intensified. His vision clouded over in a strange white mist, and he steadied himself against the timber frame unaware of the noise he was making. The high-pitched voice of Peter Pettigrew filled his ears, shaking with forced accusation and fury.

"James and Lily, Sirius! How could you?"

All around him, onlookers were pointing, their faces appalled at the emotional scene unfolding in the street amidst the celebrations. Some wore robes, some wore school uniforms, some wore suits and casual Muggle clothes. All, however, wore an identical expression of anxiety tinged with fear. It was as if they knew what was about to happen.

"You betrayed James and Lily!"

He could feel his face reddening at the unexpected public encounter. Suddenly, he regretted not following Peter to a deserted alley afterall. This was not what he had intended. Peter's eyes were crazed, calculating. He was hiding his hands under the folds of his robes. They were twitching, holding something. What was he doing? Peter closed his eyes as a red stain began to spread through the front of his robes. He took out his hands. One of them had a finger missing! It was spurting blood from its severed stub. He slowly drew his wand and pointed it behind his back...

His thoughts were drowning in the thick mist as he fell deeper and deeper into oblivion.

Fletcher's voice was now speaking to him as he struggled up from the ground, dazed and bleeding from the explosion.

"Black? Get up, now! You're under arrest for the murder of these innocent people. Don't ask for a lawyer; you won't get one. I'll see you get the Kiss for this... Azkaban would be too kind..."

And now he was laughing, not from amusement but from sheer incredulity and shock. This couldn't be happening. They could not possibly believe he had killed all these people. Were they mad? No, they would see sense soon. Moony would prove his innocence, or Arabella...

Arabella... As her image floated into his mind, so some flicker of warmth returned to his stiff and frozen body. Sirius opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground. His face was wet and raw from tears, his wand had slipped out of his hands onto the flooded pier. He felt terribly weak and shaky, but forced himself to take his wand and stand. Slowly he got to his feet, running a hand distractedly through his long locks. As his vision cleared somewhat he saw two towering black forms gliding towards him.

He would not run away, leaving Arabella and the others vulnerable. He would stay and fight as bravely as Harry had only hours ago. Harry... Concentrating very hard on the moment when his infant godson, whom he had thought to be dead, had cried out and clutched Lily's corpse with his tiny, white hand, he yelled the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Miraculously, and for the first time in his life, something happened. His Patronus burst from the end of his wand and charged down the Dementors, sending them into the choppy sea below. He watched in amazement and delight as the beautiful, proud, silver lion raced off into the night, its shaggy mane billowing in the wind. Sirius thought that he had never seen anything so inspiring in his entire life. He longed for it to return so that he could stroke its fur, but it was already gone. A lion! If only James were here to see this...

Sighing, he stood still for awhile in the shadow of the cabin, gazing out to sea and feeling happier and stronger than he had felt in a long time. It was several minutes before he became aware of the short, hooded figure walking to the pier's edge and looking down at the waves.

Sirius strode confidently after the Dementor and aimed his wand at it, smiling in anticipation. After a moment, it began to turn around.

"Expecto Patronum!" Sirius cried out, delighted. I think I'm getting the hang of this! It's so easy...

Once again the noble lion took flight, right as a tremendous gust of wind caught the dementor's hood. It was blown back to reveal a youthful head of shocking, blonde hair. As the Patronus charged down the stunned boy, Sirius started forward in surprise. He raced to the brink of the quay, and pointed his wand at the water.

"Accio!"

It worked. The heavy, soaked body of Draco Malfoy shot out of the water and collided with him head on. They both fell to the ground, shivering and astonished.

***

Harry sat drenched in the lee of a rock at the land-side edge of the pier, waiting for Sirius to return with the Portkey. A strange, relaxing sense of unreality was on him now, and he found it difficult to exhibit the same degree of impatience and anxiety as his three companions, who kept pacing up and down and making him dizzy. Some small, sleepy part of his mind told him that his godfather was in extreme danger, that he had walked out on a narrow, unsheltered pier in the middle of a storm to try to steal a Portkey from the Dementors, but unfortunately that knowledge only occurred to him in brief flashes of sensibility. Most of the time he remained blissfully unaware of the precariousness of his situation, conscious only of the heaviness of his body and the rain that kept sheeting down on his head. He no longer felt cold, just dreadfully and almost overwhelmingly tired. His eyelids blinked of their own accord, but he kept them open owing to some subconscious instinct telling him it was important that he remain awake. The decision was not consciously made; rather his mind just seemed to know what to do.

Fretfully, his numb fingers fumbled over the neck of his saturated robes, trying to lift the warm, wet fabric away from his chest, but to no avail. His clothing seemed to weigh a tonne as it clung to his weakened frame, and his fingers were determined not to obey the instructions from his brain. It didn't really matter anyway, Harry thought vaguely, smiling to himself in the darkness.

Ron had finally stopped pacing and sat down next to him; at least judging from the orange blur before his eyes, Harry assumed it was Ron. Giddily, he laughed at the idea that maybe it wasn't Ron at all, but Snape with a new hair colour, causing him to giggle uncontrollably and almost drunkenly with amusement. Ron was peering down at him curiously, a small, confused smile spreading reluctantly over his concerned expression. He began to speak. What was he saying? Something about flying motorbikes, no doubt. Yes, they're far too expensive these days... Very hard to come by... I think I was on one once, though...

Harry felt very strange indeed. His body felt heavy, yet his mind felt light, and he put his hands down onto the ground to steady himself against the ethereal floating sensation now bathing him in a misty glow. Ron's voice sounded funny to his ears too, unusually high-pitched and mature, but also familiar. Was he still going on about those damn motorbikes? God, I wish he'd shut up.

"Shurrup, Ron....bloody mo'orbikes," he slurred.

Why was Ron looking at him like he was some kind of headcase? You just couldn't have an intelligent conversation with a Weasley, he thought sadly. But now two other people were sitting down. Oh great, now they want to chat too. Why do I always attract these maniacs?

"Harry?" the woman asked, looking at him closely.

"What?" he replied crisply, startling Ron.

"Are you okay?" she continued.

"Of course I am... " said Harry impatiently, now gazing curiously at the annoying woman's companion. He was tall and pale, with messy black hair blowing in the wind. Harry was sure he knew this man from somewhere. The image of those warm, brown eyes stirred up confused images in his mind of a terrible, hairy monster attacking an innocent victim against the light of a full moon. Boldly, the pale man rescued the unfortunate victim from the creature and pulled him to safety. Harry had heard that story before. Suddenly, it all made sense. This had to be his father!

Harry stared up at Snape admiringly, proud to be related to such a brave, heroic figure, and tried to sit up. It was painful to move.

"Dad? Would you just give me a hand here?" he tried weakly, his eyes travelling from those of his father to Ron's appalled face. Harry felt a little hurt that Ron refused to be happy for him. He obviously didn't understand what it meant to him to finally see his father alive after so many years.

"Dad?" he croaked again, with a slight edge to his voice.

Why was his father ignoring him?

Ah, the woman was poking his father in the side now to make him pay attention. He obviously hadn't heard his son calling to him. Harry looked up at him again, pleadingly.

"When are we going home, Dad?"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" he questioned harshly.

Harry turned tearfully to Ron, confused. He couldn't understand why his father was being so mean to him. He had always been told that his father loved him, that he had died to save him. How could he be so cold and formal?

"Dad, please, have I done something wrong?" he blurted, feeling his throat beginning to constrict.

Ron and that irritating woman were laughing at him now. Maybe this was all some elaborate trick they were playing on him.

"You will address me as Professor Snape, Potter!" his father snarled.

In that instant, Harry realised what was happening. This wasn't his beloved father at all, but his arch enemy, Lord Voldemort. He couldn't understand how he hadn't seen it at once. This man looked nothing like his father. He had a cruel face, and his hair, although the right colour, was lank and greasy. He wasn't even wearing spectacles! It was one of the most pathetic disguises Harry had ever seen. With lightning speed, he shot his hand down to the pocket in his robes and took out his wand, pointing it squarely at Voldemort's chest.

"Avada ke- Ow!"

Ron had jumped on top of him and grabbed his wand. Harry felt too tired for a fight. He relaxed and lay back down against the cold rock. Ron could deal with Voldemort himself. He was well able for that now. Closing his eyes wearily, Harry realised with a start that he had forgotten to leave out the note for the milkman. Aunt Petunia would be furious when she woke up to find three pints too many on the doorstep. She hated to see food going to waste. Groaning slightly, Harry struggled up from the mattress, muttering something about the milk, but he couldn't get up. Someone was holding him down. Looking around in confusion, he was surprised to see his aunt restraining him. Well, if that was her game she could see to the milkman herself then, Harry thought angrily. He turned over on the lumpy bed and tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. Uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley had just arrived, soaking wet. Harry thumped the ground weakly in despair. Could he not have even a second's peace in this damn house?

***

Sirius struggled to free himself from the mass of wet clothing tying him to the blonde-haired boy, whom he had accidentally thrown over the pier. As he finally emerged from under the boy's not-inconsiderable water-logged weight, he realised with a start that he was looking into the face of a young and very soggy Lucius Malfoy, fair hair clinging to his pale, pointed face and heavy, expensive robes dripping everywhere. With robes like that it was a wonder he hadn't sunk to the bottom at once, Sirius noted vaguely as he tapped the boy's back, helping him to expel the water now spluttering from his lungs. So this is Draco Malfoy... Don't know what Harry finds so threatening... looks innocent enough to me...

The boy shrugged him off at once and swelled indignantly.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded haughtily in between coughs.

Sirius checked the kind inquiry he was about to make regarding the boy's health.

"Oh, I'm just the git who rescued you from the water. No need to thank me," he stated nonchalantly.

"I was not intending to, since you are also the git who knocked me in there in the first place," Draco snapped. "I'll ask you again, who are you?"

"I'm Sirius Black. You, no doubt, are Draco Malfoy".

"Sirius Black... I should have recognised you from your filthy appearance".

Sirius raised an eyebrow and felt his cheeks redden. Who did this kid think he was, speaking to an adult like that? Besides, he wasn't that scruffy, Sirius decided, surveying himself as discretely as possible. He'd just had a long day.

"You don't look so suave and sophisticated yourself," he snapped. "Now, what are you doing out here on your own?"

Draco began to open his mouth to speak, but apparently thought the better of it. Sirius noticed this but said nothing.

"Is your father around here?" he asked instead.

"No. Father is-is-away on business," Draco stammered, not looking the older wizard in the eye, speaking as if it was a perfectly normal everyday occurence to find an upperclass Pureblood wizard standing on a pier in Azkaban.

"I see," Sirius began, "Would that business be taking him to Hogwarts, by any chance?"

Draco's head snapped up at the mention of his school. He seemed to be considering his reply carefully.

"What does it matter to you?"

"It matters because your master, and I'm not referring to your father, mentioned something about an attack on Hogwarts. You know what his plans are-"

"First of all, he's not my master. I am my own master. Second, even if I did know anything about this alleged attack, you are the last person I would discuss it with, since I'm not in the habit of sharing confidences with escaped murderers-"

Sirius had to work hard to control his temper at Malfoy's cheek. He was so angry that it didn't even occur to him that, as a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy would surely know of his innocence; he was just trying to offend him, and succeeding.

With forced calm, Sirius began, "Draco-"

"Don't call me that!" he pouted, looking like a sulky teenager.

Sirius tried hard not to grin.

"I thought that was your name".

"Not to you, it isn't. You can call me Malfoy. That's what Potter always says".

"Alright, Malfoy. Harry's here, you know. He escaped from the Dark Lord yet again," Sirius explained, noticing how Draco winced at the words yet again, "But he's been poisoned, and he's dying-"

"Oh, my heart goes out to poor pathetic Potter! Like I care, if he dies".

"I don't believe you'd really be glad if he died," Sirius told him pointedly.

"Of course I would. I hate him. He hates me-"

"Harry hates nobody. I don't think he's capable of hatred, having been touched by so much love".

"Give me a bag, I think I'm going to vomit".

"Oh, grow up! A boy's life is at stake here," Sirius yelled, becoming increasingly tired of Malfoy's childish behaviour.

Draco said nothing, but glared sullenly back at him.

"Now, look. We need a Portkey off this island. I know they used to keep them in that shed-"

"There are none left. I was in charge of distributing them to the dementors. They have all gone to Hogwarts now-"

"Oh God, what are we going to do?" Sirius wailed.

"If you'd just cut the hysterics for a moment, I was about to say that they have all gone to Hogwarts, except for this one".

Draco opened his palm to reveal a small, green sphere about the same size as a tennis ball.

"That's a Portkey?" Sirius gasped incredulously. "It's not like any Portkey I've ever seen".

"The Dark Lord is an exceptionally talented Portkey designer. This is a recent innovation used for mass movements of his army. It can transport up to a dozen people simultaneously to any destination the controller wishes".

"Brilliant! Give it to me!" Sirius said.

"Here, but I don't think you'll find it very useful. It only responds to a controller bearing the Dark Mark".

"Not a problem," Sirius stated cheerfully, "You'll do nicely-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, or Potter!"

"Oh, you want to stay here and freeze to death, do you?"

"Better that than being cursed to death!"

"Draco-"

"Malfoy!"

"Sorry, Malfoy. Look, if you come with me now and make your loyalties clear, it will be within my power to protect you. I am a member of an ancient organisation that was set up to oppose evil in all its forms. We have protected Harry, and-"

"Yes, I know about the Order of the Phoenix...What about Father? He'd kill me, or disown me".

"You're old enough to make your own choices now. Do you really want to dedicate your life to killing innocent people and serving a tyrant who would punish you for a second of doubt? There are other forms of power, besides fear and domination. Look at Albus Dumbledore! Look at... Severus Snape".

"What about Snape?"

"Well, I never thought I would see him turn his back on the Dark Lord, but he did, and do you know why?"

Draco shook his head but listened raptly.

"Because he realised that in having the courage to abandon what he knew to be wrong, he became powerful. The Dark Lord does not offer power, Malfoy, but domination, the opportunity to become a slave. Surely, you must see that".

"I don't know... If I go with you, Father-"

"I know it's a lot to ask, but believe me, you don't want to live your father's life. Come back to Hogwarts with me now. You will see what your father has become: a mere slave fighting a losing battle simply because he is too frightened of what his master will do to him if he refuses".

"What do you mean a losing battle?"

"They don't stand a chance against Hogwarts, Malfoy. I helped Dumbledore improve the protections upon it myself only last month".

"Yes, but the Dark Lord has over three thousand Dementors, not to mention all the Death Eaters..."

"It would take much more than that to defeat Albus Dumbledore! Why do you think You-Know-Who has always been so frightened of him?"

Draco remained silent for a moment, considering.

"Are you sure the attack will fail?" he asked shrewdly.

"Positive... Let's go before we drown out here, eh?"

"Okay, I'll go with you, but that doesn't mean I'm, 'making my loyalties clear'. I haven't decided yet. I'll just keep an open mind for now".

"That's good enough for me. Oh, and Malfoy? Please don't tell Snape I tried to suggest him as some sort of role-model for you, okay?"

Draco laughed heartily, before asking, "Is Snape here, too?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"I'm surprised you trust him, since he used to be a Death Eater and all".

"I'm trusting you, am I not?"

"That's different".

"No it's not. Now, hurry up!"

At this, Sirius grabbed Draco by the arm and raced down the remainder of the pier, clutching the Portkey in his other hand. Draco Malfoy had surprised him somewhat in his willingness to actually listen to what he had to say. Perhaps the boy wasn't a lost cause after all, Sirius thought glumly, but then, it had not escaped his notice that Draco had only agreed to disobey his father when assured that the attack on Hogwarts would fail. In this he was demonstrating the characteristic Slytherin nack for backing the winning side, a fact that did not fill Sirius with confidence for the boy's redemption..

Draco was still, without question, his father's son, with the same degree of arrogance, self-importance and cunning as the older Malfoy, but at least he was intelligent enough not to be brainwashed with Voldemort's propaganda. He was willing to listen to reason and to make informed decisions about his future. It now seemed, however, that that future could go either way, to darkness or light, depending on the events of the following few days. Sirius decided he would need to speak to Dumbledore about the protections that would have to be put in place to guarantee his safety. Whether Draco would be willing to accept them or not would be a different matter entirely. Sirius doubted he would adjust well to a life away from his mansion and servants and expensive robes. Hopefully, he would have the maturity to accept that it was for the best.

Sirius and Draco had to watch their step carefully on account of the sudden enormous waves that broke periodically over the rocky platform, but thankfully the two of them finally made it safely back to Arabella, Harry and Snape. Sirius could tell from the looks on their faces, however, that something was very wrong. Snape was sitting away from the other two, and glaring in the opposite direction with an even greater scowl than usual. Ron and Arabella were both sitting beside Harry, who seemed to be asleep, but they appeared quite worried and afraid.

As soon as Ron clapped eyes on Draco, he emitted a most unbecoming squeal, rousing Harry from his sleep.

"You!" Ron roared, seething with rage, "You! I-I-I"

"Yes, well done, Weasley. You've identified us both now. Perhaps next time you can work on recognising these other people-"

Ron sprang forward, squaring his fist for the attack, but Sirius quickly restrained him. Draco did not flinch, but stood erect over him, as if trying to emphasise his superior class.

"I'd forgotten just how coarse you are, Weasel. You know, in the wizarding world we usually fight with wands rather than fists-" Draco sneered.

"That's enough, Malfoy!" growled Sirius, "Stop trying to provoke him!"

"I don't have to try. He has the brawling gene in his blood. I think he inherited it from his father-"

"Don't you dare start on about my family again, Malfoy. I've seen your family. Your Mum must tie weights to the back of her head to keep her nose that high-"

Despite his best efforts, Sirius found it hard to stifle a giggle. He knew Narcissa Malfoy, and Ron certainly had a point. Draco was ready with a comeback, however.

"Whereas your mother can't keep hers out of the gutter, sniffing for food!"

"Stop it at once!" Arabella demanded, without raising her voice. Draco paled before her stern expression and retreated. He joined Snape away from the others and they talked quietly.

Arabella continued, "Now, Sirius, what is Lucius Malfoy's son doing here?"

"He was the one who bloody caught me and brought me here!" Ron blurted angrily.

Arabella quieted him with a single glance.

"His father left him the job of distributing these Portkeys to the Dementors," Sirius said.

"That's a strange-looking Portkey," she noted, admiring the glassy, emerald orb in Sirius' hand.

"Yeah, apparently You-Know-Who invented it himself".

"Interesting...Then they've gone to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. Draco here has kindly agreed to take us there since only he, or Snape, can activate the Portkey".

Arabella spoke in an undertone, "Can we trust him?"

"I believe so, for now".

"Very well. We should leave at once. Harry's burning up and he seems delirious".

"Right. Malfoy, will you do the honours?" Sirius called, offering him the Portkey.

"We have to hold onto each other. Only I should touch the Portkey. Ready?"

There was a chorus of affirmative grunts as everybody held hands and Draco placed his own over the sphere. Quietly, he whispered over and over so that his voice could hardly be heard above the rhythmic crashing of the waves, "Hogwarts... Hogwarts... Hogwarts..."

Sirius held his breath as the dark, nightmarish coast began to swirl around in great bursts of colour like a film of oil in a roadside puddle. All the while, Draco's light, concentrated voice continued to utter in the distance, sounding very far away but also strangely comforting. Hogwarts... Hogwarts... The thought of his old school filled him with a warmth and a joy that surpassed even that he had experienced at finally conjuring his own Patronus. Soon they would be safe. Dumbledore would help find a cure for Harry, he, Sirius would have his name cleared publicly, he would take Arabella out for that romantic bike ride... Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, he let his feet be whipped off the rocks by the holy power drawing him away from the darkness and filth, and relaxed into the sensation of having his body tugged roughly from somewhere behind his navel. Feverishly, he gripped Harry's unresponsive hand tightly lest he should fall, while also aware of Arabella clinging tightly to his other hand. Almost immediately, however, the sensation ended, the colours began to assume form and depth and he felt solid earth beneath his feet.
Before he could get his bearings, something strong walloped him on the shoulder, making his knees buckle.

"Well, if it isn' young Sirius Black! How are yeh, then? Wet, I see! Come fer the fun, eh?" a cheerful, powerful voice boomed from behind.

"Hagrid! Good God, you frightened me to death... Ah, Hogwarts!" Sirius cried, smiling from the giant standing before him to the majestic towers sweeping up into the sky.

Evidently they had arrived a short distance from the castle, beyond its extreme western perimeter. Sirius could scarcely believe his eyes, however, at the great multitude of people standing around him and his five companions in the light of a large campfire. There must have been hundreds of men and women, and other creatures, some dressed as wizards and witches, others dressed less formally, some at least as tall and impressive as Hagrid, and all brandishing weapons of some description: swords, spears, wands, axes...

"Dumbledore said ter expect yeh...'Lo, 'Bella, Professor Snape," Hagrid beamed, intentionally ignoring Draco and the small unidentifiable heap lying on the ground beside him. "An' Ron too. Heard yeh've been causin' trouble, an' all".

The smile quickly vanished from Ron's face and he went to sit next to Harry, whom Hagrid did not seem to have recognised.

"Hagrid! Who are all these people?" Sirius exclaimed, incredulously.

"Ah, well. as ter that... Me and Olympe 'ave been busy, roundin' up the giants ter protect the castle, an' the rest are your lot".

"That's amazing!"

"Good timin' is what it is," Hagrid chortled, looking very pleased with himself, "Those Dementors won' 'alf know wha' hit 'em. Can' say I'm too sorry for 'em".

"Where are they? I thought they'd be here by now".

"Oh, they're 'ere all right. Regroupin' down at the gates an' aroun' Hogsmeade. Yeh don't want ter go down there fer any money jus' yet".

"But we have to get into the castle! Harry's been poisoned," Sirius shouted wildly.

"Harry?" Hagrid roared, looking suddenly concerned.

He bent down to examine Harry's flushed and unconscious face, cringing at the heat radiating through his soaking robes.

"No way in, I'm tellin' yeh, Sirius. Dumbledore said to tell yeh to head down ter Godric's Hollow, bu' he wasn' expectin' nothin' like this. I don' know wha' else ter say..."

Sirius remained silent for a moment, thinking.

"There's a secret passage we could take from Honeydukes-"

Ron's ears suddenly pricked up at these words, and he turned guiltily to Harry's dreaming face. Fortunately nobody noticed as Hagrid shook his head at Sirius.

"Can' get in there, like I told yeh. Dementors and Death Eaters are swarmin' the place-"

"I'll go," Snape suddenly hissed from behind, "I'll have a better chance of getting past them if I'm alone. Besides, I'm the only one who can make that antidote. Take Potter to Godric's Hollow, Black, and I'll join you as soon as I can".

"How are you going to get past the Death Eaters? They know you're a spy now," Sirius stated impatiently.

"Here," Draco piped up from behind, "You can borrow this. I'm sure it's the least Potter can do".

With that, he removed something smooth and silky from inside his robes. It shimmered magically in the moonlight as Draco held it up for all to see.

"The Invisibility Cloak! How did you get this, Draco?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"For the last time, call me Malfoy!" Draco roared petulantly.

"He stole it from me!" Ron exclaimed, pointing a long finger at the other boy.

Everyone turned accusingly to Draco.

"Well, you stole it from him," he snarled, looking over at Harry.

"Two wrongs don't make a right-" Ron began.

"Oh, honestly. Can't you do better than hackneyed Muggle proverbs?"

"Be quiet Malfoy, Ron!" Arabella insisted, looking at the cloak with sudden intensity, "Severus is right-"

Sirius looked at her hurtfully, but she continued.

"Severus is right. The only way we're going to get that antidote is if he goes in alone. Take the cloak, Severus, and be careful!"

"Very well."

Snape snatched the cloak from Draco's reluctant hands and glided away, throwing the garment over his shoulders as he walked. He soon vanished from sight. Arabella turned to Draco.

"Will that Portkey take us to Godric's Hollow?"

"I suppose," the blonde boy muttered, looking longingly after the cloak. As soon as he intercepted the impatient expression on Arabella's face, however, he answered more convincingly, "It can take us anywhere".

"Right," she continued decisively, "Hagrid, have you enough people here, or should I stay?"

"Very good o' yeh, 'Bella, but yeh look done in. You an' all, Sirius. Dumbledore tol' me yer good news, by the way. I've never been more ashamed o' meself, believin' yeh capable of that-"

"Hagrid, it's okay. The whole world thought me capable of it," Sirius spoke comfortingly, amazed and flattered to see tears welling up in the half-giant's eyes.

"No, no. I should've known, an' yeh were such a great kid an' all," he sobbed, "Go on ter Godric's Hollow now, and get yer rest. We'll manage 'ere".

"Okay, thanks Hagrid. Before I go, though, I was just wondering about my bike-"

"Thanks, Hagrid. Good luck!" Arabella called, grabbing Sirius roughly by the arm and walking over to Draco and Harry. "When you're ready, Draco. Godric's Hollow".

"It's Malfoy," he hissed, sighing in resignation. "Okay, Godric's Hollow... Godric's Hollow..."

As the world dissolved around him once more, Sirius heard a full, throaty laugh and Hagrid's voice calling, "She's alive an' well, Sirius, don' fret!" Smiling impulsively, Sirius let the colours carry him off to Godric's Hollow, and a well-earned rest.





A/N: Sorry! I told a lie. This isn't the last chapter, but you guessed that, didn't you. There's one more left, and only one this time. I promise :o) These loose ends don't tie themselves up, you know! In the next part we'll finally discover the full truth about Sirius' inprisonment, the depth of Fudge's stupidity and of Fletcher's cruelty, how Harry will fare from his terrible ordeal, and what kind of a reception Ron will find waiting for him back at the Burrow. Oh, and sexy Sirius in leather, of course (Just pretend you're Arabella!). Plus, what will Draco decide about his future? And much, much more...So, look out for it! I also must apologise for taking so long with this chapter, despite my best intentions to get it out sooner. All I can say is, I did my best. Special thanks as ever to all the wonderful, beautiful people who reviewed last time and made me ever so happy. I love you all! Yuck... And extra, extra special thanks to Coqui, who is a simply brilliant beta-reader (everyone go read her fics! Do it now! I command you!). Without her, you probably wouldn't have been able to read this chapter for the grammar and punctuation errors. You rock, Coqui!

Pleiades.