Authors note- this story is intended to be read whilst listening to 'The
Breaking of the Fellowship" by Howard Shore from the 'Fellowship of the
ring' score. In the event this track is unavailable, please use
alternatives including 'Mad World' by Michael Andrews from the Donnie Darko
soundtrack or possibly something like the Shawshank Redemption theme.
Sorry this chapter has been so long coming, but these are busy days. Not
really sure where the story will end up, but I know where it is going for
the time being.
Please Review!!!!
Also, some people may notice I have bypassed the August 7th 1993 scene
where Snuffles shows up at Privet Drive just before the Knight Bus arrives.
I am aware of this; I just couldn't be bothered to write it ;)
* Chapter IV
October 10th 1993
It was a cold afternoon. It wasn't winter, but the temperature was fickle and constantly vacillating. One moment, crumpled against a metal trashcan down an abandoned dingy alleyway, Sirius found cold winds entering his every orifice and freezing his mind....the next, the wind had ceased its activity and the moonlight almost illuminated a new heat and strength in him....always powered by the constant fascination, fixation, enthralment....whatever you want to call it....the continuous obsession with slowly ending the life of Peter Pettigrew.
Sirius hope for the future had lost none of its potency regardless of the bad food, abysmal accommodation and less-then-friendly attitude he was receiving on the streets of London.
Yes, that's right....London. The journey had been made over the course of a month. Not days, like a normal muggle...... Sirius powers were still weak after his escape. 12 years without a wand is a long period of time, and the ability to apparate would be too difficult to re-master with dozens of Auror's on a constant look out for the briefest of appearances. What if something went wrong? What if he apparated and ended up in the wrong place? Too risky. So the journey had been made the old fashioned way. Well, the old fashioned way for a man whose many talents included animagi abilities. As Snuffles, he could follow the motorways on the hard shoulder, picking up light meaty snacks from the Little Chef's at service stations every few miles. The noise of the traffic, especially with his heightened canine senses was deafening, but the sheer glorious freedom of walking alone as cars flew by at 80 miles an hour was enough of an adrenaline rush to make anyone's day complete, especially a man who had spent the last decade mostly in one room.
To use a hackneyed and clichéd expression, it really hit home when Sirius thought honestly about the things he hadn't experienced. Men, woman, children, animals....all just living life routinely. Watching television, seeing movies, hosting dinner parties. And whilst the world revelled in the triviality of these experiences, he had been living a much harsher and more brutal life. Whilst the people he once knew were going to work every morning, buying fruit from a town market....whatever......he had spent 12 years locked away from his freedom, restricted to a life of confusion and pain where only the hope and fantasy of revenge could keep a mans mind from breaking.
And now, with Azkaban hundreds of miles behind him, Sirius could engage in these pointless but entertaining activities that the rest of the world's population enjoyed so much.
As he walked, he found his large brown eyes glancing upwards, through the shaggy black fur and deep into the sky. The clouds floated in the deep blue abyss of the heavens, without a care in the world. Sirius couldn't help but compare himself to them. Ridiculous....pointless.....maybe.....probably. But he was free, and he was alive and he would do whatever the hell he liked.
Snuffles let out a loud bark of happiness, and increased his speed along the hard shoulder, his tongue hanging out limply and salivating all over the side of the road.
There was a Little Chef up ahead.
*
Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared suddenly at one end of a long hallway. The ceiling a rich shade of peacock blue, the floor dark and heavily polished. On the walls to either side stood several fireplaces, all filled with a constantly burning flame, which would occasionally give way to emerging witches and wizards arriving for work. Shacklebolt would usually apparate directly to his office, but lately work had been busy and he enjoyed the short walk to the Auror Headquarters every morning. It gave him an opportunity to spend time walking past walls not covered with the same face, and on a good day he may even be able to have a brief chat with a friend.
He walked leisurely past the fountain and towards the short queue at the golden gates. He waited for a moment as the usual security measures were implemented, then a few seconds later; Shacklebolt was waiting outside the large lift.
The line really wasn't worth the effort, and with a quick disgruntled pop Kingsley disappeared, and instantly reappeared in his cluttered cubicle. Usually, he succeeded in keeping his work area tidy. Infact, he was possessed by the idea.....keeping things neat made it certain that things would get found. Keeping things neat, keeping the files sorted made it certain that Sirius Black would be found. All it required was good old fashioned detective work.
Black had only escaped a few days ago, but the hunt was only just beginning. It took a few hours for word of his escape to reach the Ministry. The dementors were slow on such things. If only a creature whose skills included the use of owls could be hired in future.
Anyway, Black's escape had made the job a lot more hectic of late. 13 years since 'You Know Who' was destroyed and now finally the Auror's were getting something to do. November 1981....things were chaos. He had only been 22; a veritable rookie of the job compared to some of the aged Auror's who were around back then. Ageism seemed to have gripped the Ministry lately. Fudge tried to force any Auror over the age of 50 into retirement, citing them as being 'too old for a job of such physical difficulty'. Back in 1981 though, the older, the tougher. Bringing in Voldemort's supporters had claimed a lot of lives, and Kingsley himself had been lucky to get away without any scars.
Having Black back on the loose was a grim reminder of those dark days. His skeletal facial structure glared down emotionlessly from the walls, and the newspaper clippings that were slowly being accumulated, all contained that same irritatingly bland stare from Black's cold lifeless eyes. He sat in his wooden chair....once a recliner, until a visiting Fudge accidentally broke it.....when the clock hit 9AM an orderly entered swiftly and handed him a polystyrene cup of black coffee. Kingsley tried to explain that he wanted milk, but the orderly's trolley had already exited and was off down the corridor.
Sighing, he attempted to lean back in his chair, remembering just in time that the recliner spring was broken, and barely avoiding an embarrassing fall. He placed the coffee down on his desk, and began flipping through his mail.
It was going to be a long day.
*
Sirius stood in the Little Chef toilet attempting to work the urinal. Each time his hand waved past the sensor, a small flood of water washed down into the bowl disposing of any waste that may have exited his body a short while beforehand. These muggle inventions were fascinating. No magic, just practical thinking.
He left through the open window, climbing out into a bed of vegetation. After a quick glance at a cheap £1 map he had purchased from a vending machine, he transformed into Snuffles and briskly walked back out of the service station and onto the road.
He was getting closer.
Within a few hours, the road had reached a seeming dead-end. Muggles saw a ditch followed by a dark forest; anyone endowed with magical powers saw something quite different. In the far distance, miles and miles away stood the highest tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, just about visible if one craned their head far enough back and had a clear line of sight.
The walk was long and hard, over terrain much tougher then smooth concrete paths and roads, but the will of a wronged man is strong, and as a dog he was efficiently speedy regardless of the territory. Eventually he reached his location, his padded feet pushing his body over the steepness of a hill, revealing in all its glory Hogwarts sitting at the bottom, surrounded by the scenic great lake.
Seeing it again after so long was an unusual feeling. Emotions in turmoil, Sirius changed back into his human form, and stood alone looking over the school in silence. He gazed downwards at his tattered prison uniform, tears flowing from the corners of his eyes without permission. How he wished he could turn back time, and be wearing a black cloak and Gryffindor badge again......before patterned ink had been injected into his chest. And most importantly of all.......before James and Lily had been murdered.
Wiping away the tears impassively, Sirius shrunk back down to the ground as the shaggy black dog and plodded off down the hill towards the school.
TO BE CONTINUED.......
* Chapter IV
October 10th 1993
It was a cold afternoon. It wasn't winter, but the temperature was fickle and constantly vacillating. One moment, crumpled against a metal trashcan down an abandoned dingy alleyway, Sirius found cold winds entering his every orifice and freezing his mind....the next, the wind had ceased its activity and the moonlight almost illuminated a new heat and strength in him....always powered by the constant fascination, fixation, enthralment....whatever you want to call it....the continuous obsession with slowly ending the life of Peter Pettigrew.
Sirius hope for the future had lost none of its potency regardless of the bad food, abysmal accommodation and less-then-friendly attitude he was receiving on the streets of London.
Yes, that's right....London. The journey had been made over the course of a month. Not days, like a normal muggle...... Sirius powers were still weak after his escape. 12 years without a wand is a long period of time, and the ability to apparate would be too difficult to re-master with dozens of Auror's on a constant look out for the briefest of appearances. What if something went wrong? What if he apparated and ended up in the wrong place? Too risky. So the journey had been made the old fashioned way. Well, the old fashioned way for a man whose many talents included animagi abilities. As Snuffles, he could follow the motorways on the hard shoulder, picking up light meaty snacks from the Little Chef's at service stations every few miles. The noise of the traffic, especially with his heightened canine senses was deafening, but the sheer glorious freedom of walking alone as cars flew by at 80 miles an hour was enough of an adrenaline rush to make anyone's day complete, especially a man who had spent the last decade mostly in one room.
To use a hackneyed and clichéd expression, it really hit home when Sirius thought honestly about the things he hadn't experienced. Men, woman, children, animals....all just living life routinely. Watching television, seeing movies, hosting dinner parties. And whilst the world revelled in the triviality of these experiences, he had been living a much harsher and more brutal life. Whilst the people he once knew were going to work every morning, buying fruit from a town market....whatever......he had spent 12 years locked away from his freedom, restricted to a life of confusion and pain where only the hope and fantasy of revenge could keep a mans mind from breaking.
And now, with Azkaban hundreds of miles behind him, Sirius could engage in these pointless but entertaining activities that the rest of the world's population enjoyed so much.
As he walked, he found his large brown eyes glancing upwards, through the shaggy black fur and deep into the sky. The clouds floated in the deep blue abyss of the heavens, without a care in the world. Sirius couldn't help but compare himself to them. Ridiculous....pointless.....maybe.....probably. But he was free, and he was alive and he would do whatever the hell he liked.
Snuffles let out a loud bark of happiness, and increased his speed along the hard shoulder, his tongue hanging out limply and salivating all over the side of the road.
There was a Little Chef up ahead.
*
Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared suddenly at one end of a long hallway. The ceiling a rich shade of peacock blue, the floor dark and heavily polished. On the walls to either side stood several fireplaces, all filled with a constantly burning flame, which would occasionally give way to emerging witches and wizards arriving for work. Shacklebolt would usually apparate directly to his office, but lately work had been busy and he enjoyed the short walk to the Auror Headquarters every morning. It gave him an opportunity to spend time walking past walls not covered with the same face, and on a good day he may even be able to have a brief chat with a friend.
He walked leisurely past the fountain and towards the short queue at the golden gates. He waited for a moment as the usual security measures were implemented, then a few seconds later; Shacklebolt was waiting outside the large lift.
The line really wasn't worth the effort, and with a quick disgruntled pop Kingsley disappeared, and instantly reappeared in his cluttered cubicle. Usually, he succeeded in keeping his work area tidy. Infact, he was possessed by the idea.....keeping things neat made it certain that things would get found. Keeping things neat, keeping the files sorted made it certain that Sirius Black would be found. All it required was good old fashioned detective work.
Black had only escaped a few days ago, but the hunt was only just beginning. It took a few hours for word of his escape to reach the Ministry. The dementors were slow on such things. If only a creature whose skills included the use of owls could be hired in future.
Anyway, Black's escape had made the job a lot more hectic of late. 13 years since 'You Know Who' was destroyed and now finally the Auror's were getting something to do. November 1981....things were chaos. He had only been 22; a veritable rookie of the job compared to some of the aged Auror's who were around back then. Ageism seemed to have gripped the Ministry lately. Fudge tried to force any Auror over the age of 50 into retirement, citing them as being 'too old for a job of such physical difficulty'. Back in 1981 though, the older, the tougher. Bringing in Voldemort's supporters had claimed a lot of lives, and Kingsley himself had been lucky to get away without any scars.
Having Black back on the loose was a grim reminder of those dark days. His skeletal facial structure glared down emotionlessly from the walls, and the newspaper clippings that were slowly being accumulated, all contained that same irritatingly bland stare from Black's cold lifeless eyes. He sat in his wooden chair....once a recliner, until a visiting Fudge accidentally broke it.....when the clock hit 9AM an orderly entered swiftly and handed him a polystyrene cup of black coffee. Kingsley tried to explain that he wanted milk, but the orderly's trolley had already exited and was off down the corridor.
Sighing, he attempted to lean back in his chair, remembering just in time that the recliner spring was broken, and barely avoiding an embarrassing fall. He placed the coffee down on his desk, and began flipping through his mail.
It was going to be a long day.
*
Sirius stood in the Little Chef toilet attempting to work the urinal. Each time his hand waved past the sensor, a small flood of water washed down into the bowl disposing of any waste that may have exited his body a short while beforehand. These muggle inventions were fascinating. No magic, just practical thinking.
He left through the open window, climbing out into a bed of vegetation. After a quick glance at a cheap £1 map he had purchased from a vending machine, he transformed into Snuffles and briskly walked back out of the service station and onto the road.
He was getting closer.
Within a few hours, the road had reached a seeming dead-end. Muggles saw a ditch followed by a dark forest; anyone endowed with magical powers saw something quite different. In the far distance, miles and miles away stood the highest tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, just about visible if one craned their head far enough back and had a clear line of sight.
The walk was long and hard, over terrain much tougher then smooth concrete paths and roads, but the will of a wronged man is strong, and as a dog he was efficiently speedy regardless of the territory. Eventually he reached his location, his padded feet pushing his body over the steepness of a hill, revealing in all its glory Hogwarts sitting at the bottom, surrounded by the scenic great lake.
Seeing it again after so long was an unusual feeling. Emotions in turmoil, Sirius changed back into his human form, and stood alone looking over the school in silence. He gazed downwards at his tattered prison uniform, tears flowing from the corners of his eyes without permission. How he wished he could turn back time, and be wearing a black cloak and Gryffindor badge again......before patterned ink had been injected into his chest. And most importantly of all.......before James and Lily had been murdered.
Wiping away the tears impassively, Sirius shrunk back down to the ground as the shaggy black dog and plodded off down the hill towards the school.
TO BE CONTINUED.......