A/N: Hey everyone! Glad to hear that you're all enjoying the story so far! I really like this chapter… not sure why. Anyway, I hope you all like it to. You know the drill: Read and Review!!
Chapter 8
Meeting With the Trio
Sirius spent the next few days alone in the cave. Well, except for Buckbeak, but Sirius wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the hippogriff ever since Buckbeak ate all of the food Dumbledore had brought.
But one day, Sirius had quite a surprising guest.
Sirius was sleeping soundly, though the sun was high in the sky and it was long past noon. Sunlight was falling gently into the cave, leaving a ring of light in the cave's entrance.
Sirius suddenly felt someone prodding him in the back, and he jolted awake. He turned onto his side, and saw Remus Lupin staring at him anxiously.
"Moony… what—"
"I need your help, Sirius," he said quickly. His eyes were drooping heavily, and his face looked tired and worn. His hair was mussed and he had the distinct look of one who had been awake all night. Then Sirius remembered: last night was the full moon.
"What's the matter? How did you find me?" Sirius asked, pushing himself into a seated position. He looked at his friend carefully.
"Dumbledore told me where to find you…"
"What's wrong, Moony? You look sick…"
"There was… I can't stay at Belle's any longer," Remus said unclearly.
"Why not? What's happened?"
"The night you left—at the beginning of this week…" Remus began softly. It seemed hard to believe that Sirius had only been gone a week, but thinking back, it was true.
"What is it, Remus?" Sirius insisted, "You can tell me…"
"No, it's just—the night you left, I… I didn't drink my potion, so last night, when I transformed…" Remus seemed beside himself. He put his head in his hands.
"You didn't drink your potion?" His potion was what allowed him to keep his head during transformations, so if he didn't drink it…
"I broke out of Belle's office and… and I…"
"Is Belle all right?" Sirius said urgently. He was leaning far forward; he could see every premature wrinkle on Remus's exaghusted face.
"She's… fine. But I can't stay there. It was too close… much too close…" Remus breathed. "I broke out, Sirius… I ran at her and I almost bit her. She only just got away…"
"Remus, it was an accident," Sirius said quietly. "You didn't mean for it to happen."
"That's what Belle said too," Remus murmured.
"You see? Belle doesn't want you to leave, Remus. Everything's fine—it was an accident," Sirius repeated. Remus shook his head.
"What if it happens again? I couldn't live with myself. There have been too many accidents over the years to—"
"Does she know you're here?" Sirius interrupted.
"No."
Sirius looked at him intently. He looked like a wreck; his traveling coat was falling off his shoulders, and his clothes were tattered as ever. Sirius felt a wave of empathy and asked, "Is there anything I can do, Remus? I mean, you'd be welcome to camp out here with me—but it's drafty at night, and Buckbeak eats all the food…"
"Sounds tempting," Remus smiled slightly. "But there is something you could do—but I don't want you to think of it as a handout…"
"You want money, then? Finally—I was wondering when you'd come to your senses!" Sirius cried. "I want you to buy your house back—how much do you need?"
"It's just a loan, Sirius. I intend to pay you back in full—with interest."
"And you'll be eternally in my service, right? Come to my aid whenever I call?" Sirius joked.
"I'll always be here for you; you know that," Remus said seriously.
"I know," Sirius said, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "And the same goes for you. So I'll chip in however much you want—but I know Belle likes your company; maybe too much for my own good," he chuckled.
"I don't care. I want her to be safe," Remus said darkly.
Sirius nodded deeply, and went to the corner where he kept his parchment and quill. He quickly scrawled 711 on it and handed it to Remus. "Here's my vault number. And tell Dolores Umbrige and her Ministry to shove it up their asses."
"I will," Remus laughed softly. "And thank you, Sirius. I owe you one."
"Think nothing of it, old chum," Sirius replied, clapping Remus on the shoulder again. But Sirius paused for a moment. "But listen," he said finally, "could you do me one little favor?"
"Anything…"
"When you go to my vault? Could you, well," Sirius cleared his throat embarrassedly, "could you make a stop at a jewelry store? Get Belle an engagement ring?" Remus looked at him with a small smile. Sirius pressed on. "The bigger the better—money's no object, here, Moony. Only the best for her, got it?"
"I understand—you want me to send it here?" asked Remus, trying to stop himself from laughing at Sirius's face, which was slowly becoming more and more red.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure…" Sirius nodded.
Remus rose from the cave floor. "Well, I suppose I had better get to Diagon Alley. Especially if—"
"You'd better," Sirius cut him off.
Remus looked hesitant for a moment, then he walked forward and embraced Sirius like a brother. Sirius didn't want to say goodbye again. "You have no idea how much this loan means to me," Remus said into his ear. "Thank you."
"Get outta here—go get your house back." Sirius said with a weak smile.
Remus nodded again, and said, "I'll pay you back, I promise. If it's the last thing I do."
"Yeah, yeah—I know. Get outta here. And remember, only the best for her." Sirius waved him away, and Remus gave a small smile and started out of the cave and down the rocky path to Hogsmeade.
Over the next few months, Sirius kept in contact with Remus and Belle. Remus had gotten his house back, and had moved in immediately. He promised Sirius that he was working on getting another job to pay Sirius back. Belle was still slightly peeved with Sirius for taking off the way he had, but once she had received her engagement ring—which was more beautiful than Sirius could have hoped for—she forgave him. Diamonds were always the best way to coax a girl into forgiveness.
For Christmas, Sirius had Remus send Harry an heirloom knife that could open any door. It had been in Sirius's as a kid, and it had helped him to quite a bit of mischief. Hopefully, Harry would find it just as useful.
Meanwhile, Sirius took up the hobby of scavenging for rather depressing newspapers out of Hogsmeade trash bins, so that he could keep up to date on all the Death Eater activity, and, of course, the Triwizard Tournament.
In February, Harry competed in the second challenge—a daring under-water journey to the center of the Hogwarts Lake to rescue Ron Weasley from the merpeople. Sirius thought that it sounded like a load of fun, but still had a gnawing suspicion that something bad was going to happen in the third and final task, to take place in June.
Sirius sent Harry and his friends a note, inviting them to visit the cave. There was quite a lot he wanted to warn Harry about—though he knew it would be difficult not to mention seeing Dumbledore or hearing about the prophecy.
A day or two later, Belle sent Sirius her favorite Witch Weekly magazine. Sirius was confused to see it included in her package, until he saw who was on the front cover. It was Harry. The article was by Rita Skeeter again, and titled, "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache." It explained in gruesome detail about Harry and Hermione's passionate relationship, and presented some embarrassing insight to Hermione's other love conquest, famous Quidditch seeker Viktor Krum. Some girl from Hogwarts also mentioned that she wouldn't be surprised if Hermione was cooking up love potions.
Sirius paid this no mind, but wondered what on earth Harry and Hermione had done to piss off Rita Skeeter to get their names slandered so badly.
Sirius sat in his dog form excitedly in front of a cottage on the far outskirts of Hogsmeade, craning his head down the twisting and winding lane, looking for Harry and his friends. He had been waiting all morning; not knowing what time Harry's Hogsmeade trips began. Sirius was carrying a few old newspapers in his mouth, his sharp teeth indenting the crinkled and dirty pages.
Finally, coming around the bend in the road, Sirius could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione walking side by side. His tail began to wag happily, and Harry smiled when he caught sight of his godfather.
"Hello, Sirius," Harry said quietly when he had reached Sirius's side. He gave Sirius a small scratch on the head, but Sirius was preoccupied smelling Harry's school bag. Chicken.
Sirius gave a little bark, and started down the road, his tail swishing back and forth behind him. Harry and his friends followed Sirius to the base of the mountain, and then Sirius gave one glance behind and then started the upward climb. He could hear Harry panting slightly behind him, as the three friends scrambled around boulders and over the crumbling rocks.
Sirius went around a big boulder, and trotted into the cave. He transformed, and quickly made a futile attempt to hide the rat remains he had eaten for breakfast. Just as he skirted them beneath a pile of old papers, Harry and his friends entered. They bowed to the hippogriff, and Hermione went to pet it.
"Chicken!" Sirius cried, as he threw down the Prophets he had collected from Hogsmeade. Harry opened his bag carefully, and handed a Hogwarts napkin stuffed with chicken and bread. "Thanks. I've been living off rats mostly," he admitted. "Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself." He stuck his teeth into the chicken leg and let the warm juice dribble down his chin while he ripped and tore at the meat. He wiped his face and grinned at Harry. It was so nice to see him again.
"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked him hesitantly.
Sirius looked at him for a moment before answering, "Fulfilling my duty as godfather." But Harry, however, still looked apprehensive. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."
Harry didn't answer. He was looking rather stressed. "I want to be on the spot," Sirius said finally. "Your last letter… well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been reading the paper, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried." He replied, motioning to the newspapers on the cave floor.
"But what if they catch you?" Harry asked him. "What if you're seen?"
Sirius considered, "You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus." He took another tear from the chicken leg.
There was an uncomfortable silence, as though Harry would rather like to say something else, but didn't. Instead, Harry reached for one of the yellowing Prophets and said, "They're making it sound like he's dying. But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"
Confused, Sirius glanced at the headline, which read "Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch." Sirius gave a small derisive sniff. Sirius wasn't exactly buddies with Crouch, as he was the most power-mad man Sirius had ever seen working in the Ministry. In fact, Crouch was one of the people Sirius hated most in this cold world.
"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron piped. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."
"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," Harry said, still scanning the article. "The night my name came out of the goblet…"
Sirius chucked Buckbeak the remaining bone from his chicken leg. The hippogriff crunched upon it, satisfied.
"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione replied testily. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now she's not there to look after him."
"Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs," Ron whispered to Sirius.
Sirius looked up at Hermione. "Crouch sacked his house-elf?"
"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry said. "Winky was saving Crouch a seat up in the top box, where we were. Crouch never showed up, but then, when the Death Eater activity started, Mr. Weasley told us to wait for him in the forest nearby. I couldn't find my wand, but that's when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. The Ministry wizards showed up and froze everyone in the area—Winky was found holding my wand."
Sirius got up from his place on the cave floor and began to pace back and forth.
Harry watched Sirius pace as he said, "All the wizards there thought that Winky had caused the Mark, since the curse came out of my wand. Crouch got really angry and said he was going to give her clothes."
"Let me get this straight," Sirius said, bending down to pull out a new chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the top box. She was saving a seat for Crouch, right?"
"Right," all three friends said simultaneously.
"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?" Sirius asked, confused why anyone would pay all that money and then not see the game.
"No, I think he said he'd been too busy," said Harry.
Sirius thought hard for a moment, and began to unconsciously pace again. Hermione and Ron were watching him carefully.
"Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the top box?"
"Erm… no. I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest," Harry answered. "And then I put my hand in my pocket and all that was in there were my Ominoculars." He looked at Sirius for a moment. "Are you saying that whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the top box?"
Sirius looked at him darkly and said, "It's possible."
"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione cried.
"The elf wasn't the only one in the top box," Sirius insisted. "Who else was sitting behind you?"
"Loads of people," Harry said, watching his godfather's journey across the cave and back. "Some Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge… The Malfoys…"
"The Malfoys!" Ron said with such hatred that his voice echoed around the cave for a moment. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"
However much Sirius despised Lucius, he wasn't convinced. "Anyone else?"
"No one."
"Yes, there was," Hermione said quickly. "There was Ludo Bagman."
"Oh yeah…" Harry mused.
Sirius frowned. "I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. What's he like?"
"He's okay," Harry shrugged. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."
"Does he now?" Sirius stopped his pacing momentarily to look at Harry. He ran his tongue around his dry lips and said to himself, "I wonder why he'd do that?"
"Says he's taken a liking to me," Harry shrugged again.
"Hmm…" Sirius nodded, biting his lip.
Hermione's eyes brightened as she realized, "We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared, remember?"
"Yeah," Ron continued, "but he didn't stay in the forest, did he? The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."
"How d'you know?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "How d'you know where he Disapperated to?"
"Come off it," Ron laughed. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"
"It's more likely he did it than Winky," Hermione snorted.
"Told you," Ron said, turning to Hermione. "Told you she's obsessed with house—" But Sirius silenced him. Not only was their flirting reminding him of Lily and James, but also Sirius had important questions to get straight.
"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"
It was Harry who answered. "He went to look in the bushes, but there wasn't anyone else there."
"Of course," Sirius muttered, starting his incessant pacing again. "Of course he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own house-elf… and then he sacked her?" The pieces were slowly falling into place.
"Yes, he sacked her," Hermione sighed passionately, "just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled—"
"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the house-elf!" Ron shouted.
"She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron," Sirius nodded grimly. "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."
He sighed deeply, and chucked his unfinished chicken leg at Buckbeak. He ran his hand across his unshaven face. "All these absences of Barty Crouch's… he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this," he glanced at the hippogriff, who was still gnawing on the chicken bones, "I'll eat Buckbeak."
"D'you know Crouch, then?" Harry asked him innocently.
"Oh I know Crouch all right," Sirius growled. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban with a trial that was so biased, it shouldn't have been held at all."
"You're kidding!" Harry, Ron and Hermione said, shocked.
"No, I'm not," Sirius said flatly. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?" He asked, observing the looks on their faces. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical—and power-hungry." Sirius chuckled at the suspicious look on Harry's face, "Oh, never a Voldemort supporter—no, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young…" Sirius decided, and reached for a piece of bread.
"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron snapped. Sirius dropped the bread to look at him. "Try us, why don't you?"
Sirius smiled. "All right, all right, I'll try you…"
Sirius took a deep breath. He walked the length of the cave, racking his brain for the right way to word what he wanted to say. Really, when he thought about it, there was no possible way to describe the horrors that Voldemort and his ranks inflicted upon the entire wizarding community. No possible way…
Sirius whipped around with his hands braced, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now," he said. "You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family and… your friends," James dead by the sofa flashed as fast as lightening through his head. Sirius blinked and continued, "Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing…" Bellatrix laughing over the Longbottoms resurfaced again, "The Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere… panic… confusion…" Sirius said each word with a tighter throat, remembering the pain, the agony, and the frustration of the war against Voldemort. "That's how it used to be."
Sirius sighed heavily again, but Harry and his friends were still as silent as the grave.
"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people," like Lily and James… "And the worst in others." Namely Peter. "Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning—I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers—powers to kill rather than capture, for instance." Sirius rubbed his face with his hands before continuing. "Death Eaters were sent to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side.
"And he had his supporters, mind you—plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared," Sirius smiled gently at Harry, "it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were looking at him with wide eyes.
"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently, they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."
"Crouch's son was caught?" Hermione gaped. She was no longer petting Buckbeak.
"Yep," Sirius said to her. He sat down next to Harry's open bag and ripped the loaf of bread in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… gotten to know his own son." He tore at the French bread with his teeth.
"Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked quietly.
"No idea. I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in." Sirius recalled his dream from Mrs. Mopsy's and thought of the skinny, blonde, boy who was screaming his innocence. But for some reason, the boy's face was cast into shadow by Bellatrix's daunting face. "He was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters—but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf." And me.
"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione asked him.
Sirius laughed out loud. "Crouch? Let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again—doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy… then he sent him straight to Azkaban."
"He gave his own son to the dementors?" Harry asked, awestruck.
"That's right," Sirius said bitterly. "I saw them bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen." Sirius sighed once more. "They took him to a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all when quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…"
Suddenly, Sirius could hear the echoes of those screams rumbling and crashing against his brain, making him almost dizzy. His chest felt heavy, thinking of that place… with the billowing dementors at the end of every hall. The silence in the days, the chorus of ear-splitting, spine-tingling, hair-raising screeches that swam through Sirius's nightmares every night for the twelve years he was in Azkaban—
"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked suddenly, jolting Sirius out of his daze.
"No," Sirius said in a monotone. "No, he's not there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."
"He died?" Hermione breathed.
"He wasn't the only one," Sirius turned to look at her with his hollow eyes. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They loose the will to live." Sirius looked away from Hermione and stared at the cave wall, as though there was something very interesting in its place.
"You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited," he continued quietly. He could easily conjure the feeling the dementors brought about when they were happy—that rattling breath that would inhale deeply, causing the room to feel misty and cold. How the hair would rise on the back of his neck every time they glided smoothly past his cell, the billows of their robes curling behind them. The emptiness beneath their black hoods seemed to echolocate a chilling and grim message to one another that death was fast approaching… food was on the way…
Sirius shook himself, and said, "That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half-carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I-I watched them do it." He suddenly dropped the bread on the cave floor and picked up the flask of pumpkin juice. He drank it in silence until it was gone, and then he wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty sleeve.
"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become the Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of Magical Cooperation."
Sirius wondered for a moment if he should have added "the end", since nobody said anything when he was finished. Sirius chanced a glance at Harry. His eyes were unfocused in thought, his glasses glinting in what little light fell into the cave.
"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry said suddenly.
"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him." Sirius shrugged, "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."
"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" Ron cried out.
"Yes, and that doesn't make any sense at all," Sirius sighed. Though he could easily see how Snape could be a Death Eater, Dumbledore trusted Snape.
"Yeah, it does!" Ron said in protest, but Sirius cut him off.
"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him."
"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" Harry asked him.
"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—"
"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him—"
"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Hm? Why didn't he just let him die?"
"I dunno—maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out, or—"
"What d'you think, Sirius?!" Harry shouted over his friends. Hermione and Ron fell silent.
Sirius looked at the pair with a smile playing in the corners of his mouth. "I think they've both got a point." He cleared his throat and added, "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was…" Sirius let his sentence drift as he thought of Snape back in school, and how annoying and disgusting he was…
"Anyway, Snape knew more curses that half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins that nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters." Sirius counted them off, "Rosier and Wilkes—they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges—they're a-a married couple—they're in Azkaban." Where they belong. "But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater—not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And," though he hated to admit it, "Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble." Though he wasn't in school…
"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep it quiet," Ron told Sirius.
"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" Harry said eagerly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was—"
"He showed Snape something on his arm?" Sirius asked, startled. The Dark Mark. Hoping to avoid more questions, Sirius put on a confused face and said slowly, "Well, I have no idea what that's about… but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers… But there's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."
"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron said smugly.
Sirius thought for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising."
But before Harry, Ron, or Hermione could ask what those things were, Sirius continued, "I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though… he's a different matter… is he really ill?" Sirius wondered aloud. "If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not… what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the top box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"
Sirius gave up and slouched against the cave wall. He looked over at Buckbeak, who was no doubt scavenging for more food. Sirius chewed the inside of his bottom lip pensively.
He looked up at Ron. "You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chances you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"
"I can try. Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy though." Ron said with a small, pitiful smile. "Percy loves Crouch."
"And," Sirius persisted, "you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," he nodded to another molding newspaper.
"Bagman told me they hadn't," Harry told him.
"Yes, he's quoted in the article there. Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed a since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all—quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut." Sirius remembered fondly the time when Sirius and James attempted to modify her memory of watching Sirius and James place balloons full of tapioca pudding over the Slytherin common room entrance. The charm didn't work, but we were only in third year… "I can see her being a bit of a liability to the Ministry… maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long…" Sirius sighed loudly once again. "What's the time?" He asked, as though it really mattered.
"It's half past three," Hermione told him.
"You'd… better get back to school," Sirius said unhappily. He pushed himself to his feet and Harry and his friends followed suit. He looked at Harry meaningfully, "Now listen… I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."
"No one's tried to attack me so far," Harry said jokingly, "except a dragon and a couple of grindylows."
Sirius smirked at him. "I don't care. I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June," he confessed to Harry. "And don't forget," he added, thinking of Belle, "if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"
Sirius bent down, and scooped up the Hogwarts napkin and flask, and handed it to Harry. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sirius smiled slightly.
"I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," he said. He transformed into a dog, and led the way out of the cave.