A/N: This is one of my fave chapters in this story. It rocks. It just does.
I've been addicted to "Rent" ever since my friend burnt me the cd. It's genius. I want to marry Mark. I just do. I had finals today and I couldn't get "La Vie Boheme" out of my head. Curses.
One chapter after this, and then I have to finish "OotP"…

Chapter 12

Parting of the Ways

They entered the hospital wing side by side. Sirius walked as close to Harry as possible, so that his black head was just brushing Harry's limp and tired fingertips.

Molly, Bill, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were all gathered around Madam Pomfrey, demanding to know where Harry was.

"Is he all right? Has he come in here yet?" Molly asked her briskly.

"No—he's with… Dumbledore!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, when her eyes landed on the headmaster. Molly turned and when she saw Harry, she let out a small scream and ran to him.

Dumbledore, however, stepped between them. "Molly, please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he looked around at the large group, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Molly nodded vigorously, and turned around to the children and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Er, Headmaster…" Madam Pomfrey interrupted. She was staring at Sirius distastefully; he glared up at her. "May I ask what—?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while. I assure you his is extremely well trained," Dumbledore said with a small smile. He turned to Sirius's godson and said, "Harry—I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge. I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school." He touched Harry's shoulder, and strode out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

Everyone was very quiet, as Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed. Harry was looking around as she handed him a pair of pajamas.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, motioning across the room. Sirius followed his gaze and saw the real Mad-Eye Moody lying straight as a log in a hospital bed. His grizzly black hair was missing chunks, since Crouch Jr. had needed to use it for the Polyjuice Potion. His magical eye—which had been the cause for his nickname—and his rough wooden leg were laid out on the bedside table.

"He'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey said hurriedly, as she pulled screens around Harry so he could change.

When Harry was in his pajamas, Madam Pomfrey helped him climb into the high bed, and Harry's company gathered around the bed and sat down in chairs. Sirius clambered into a chair as close to Harry as he could get. He didn't want to let Harry out of his sight… ever…

Sirius glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that they were looking at Harry cautiously, their chairs so close together that their arms were touching.

Harry must have noticed their worried looks, for he muttered, "I'm all right… just tired."

Molly Weasley reached over and began to smooth Harry's bedcovers with trembling hands. Sirius watched her hands with a squirming stomach, knowing that it should be him who was tucking Harry in—not Molly.

Madam Pomfrey returned from her office, carrying a goblet and an oddly shaped purple bottle. She uncapped the bottle and poured some of it into the goblet. "You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," she said. "It's a potion for a dreamless sleep."

Harry took the goblet from her outstretched hands, and began to drink. His hand grew unsteady as the potion began to work instantly. Molly reached out and took the goblet from Harry as he sunk into his pillows and slept.

Molly stood up and, with a wary glance at Sirius, she reached over him and placed the goblet on Harry's bedside table. She stepped in front of Sirius and removed Harry's glasses from his face and folded them carefully. She placed them next to the goblet, and she looked down at the sleeping Harry. She sniffed sadly, and brushed Harry's bangs out of his face with her quivering hand, revealing the pink, lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. To Sirius's frustration, she bent down and kissed Harry's head, then returned to her seat with her hands folded across her lap.

Her son, Bill, touched her arm gently, as though to comfort his mother. But what did she need comforting for? Molly was not responsible for Harry—Sirius was. It was he who had been trusted with Harry's welfare after his parents' death. It was Sirius who had broken his promise to Lily and James by letting their son fall into Voldemort's clutches once again…

But yelling from outside the hospital wing brought Sirius back to his senses.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" Ron whispered angrily.

Molly stood up, as though to go see what all the commotion was about. Bill sat up straight in his chair.

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?" Hermione asked softly.

"That's Fudge's voice," Molly whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—" the Minster of Magic was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"You should have never brought it inside the castle! When Dumbledore finds out—" McGonagall was screaming as the hospital doors flew open and banged against the walls.

Bill leapt up and pulled back Harry's screens, and Sirius saw Harry sit up and reach for his glasses.

Fudge came strutting up the ward with Professor McGonagall and Severus Snape at his heels.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge asked Molly angrily.

"He's not here," Molly growled. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to—"

"What has happened?"

Everyone looked around to see Dumbledore in the door of the hospital wing, and Sirius let out a small sigh of relief. Whatever was going on, Dumbledore could set it right.

"Why are you disturbing these people?" Dumbledore asked Fudge, before turning to McGonagall, "Minerva, I'm surprised at you—I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch Jr.—"

"There is no need to stands guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she screamed. "The Minster has seen to that!" She was literally shaking with rage: her face was flushed and her hands were balled into fists.

But it was Snape who explained, "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question." Snape spoke in a low voice that was dripping with distain—a voice that he usually saved for talking to James and Sirius. "He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch—"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall shouted, but Sirius's insides were contracting. A dementor was in the castle? What if it found him? If it did, it would surely drag him off to Azkaban again, especially now that Peter's hand with the missing finger was cut off…

"My dear woman!" Fudge roared. "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous—"

But Professor McGonagall was shouting so loudly, that Fudge's complaints couldn't be heard. "The moment that—that thing entered the room, it swooped down on Crouch and—and—"

But there was no need for McGonagall to finish, for everyone in the room knew what she was going to say. The dementor had sucked Crouch's soul right out of his mouth, as Sirius had heard happen so many times. There would be a horrible inhaling and the sound of a rushing wind would rise through the air, swirling around towards the dementor's only facial feature—its gaping hole of a mouth… and then the victim would be worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" fumed Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly. He was looking at Fudge confusedly with his deep blue eyes, as though, he was seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Why he killed them, Dumbledore?" blustered Fudge. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, "Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has restored his body."

Fudge looked as though Dumbledore had just punched him in the face. He was staring at Dumbledore like he was crazy.

"You-Know-Who… returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore continued, over Fudge's rambling. "We have heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort—learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins—went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Fudge's face broke into a smile. "See here, Dumbledore, you—you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who—back? Come now, come now… certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders—but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

Sirius resisted the urge to pounce on Fudge right then. Dumbledore may have made a mistake this year, and may have been fooled by Voldemort—but Dumbledore was still the most powerful wizard in the world, and Fudge had no right to treat him the way he was.

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," Dumbledore said simply. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."

Fudge was looking at Harry, his face still contorted in that curious smile. Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge looked back at Dumbledore. "You are—er—prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

Sirius began to growl deep in his throat. He could feel the hair rising on his back. How dare Fudge accuse Harry of lying… How dare he…

"Certainly I believe Harry," Dumbledore said, looking equally as angry as Sirius—though his teeth were not bared, like Sirius's were. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well…"

Fudge shot Harry a disapproving look.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said softly, and everyone looked around at him.

Fudge's face grew scarlet. "And if I have? If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh?" Fudge said, rounding on Harry and approaching the hospital bed where he lay. "And having funny turns all over the place—"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" Dumbledore said quite calmly.

"You admit he's been having these pains then?" Fudge exclaimed, as though he were winning the argument by establishing this. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly—hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said warningly. "Harry is just as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge took a stumbling step backwards but said, "you'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"

Harry was suddenly rigid with anger, "Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" He ripped back his bedcovers to get out of bed, but Molly restrained him. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy—"

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge shouted. "A very old family—donations to excellent causes—"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery—Nott—Crabbe—Goyle—"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago! You could have found those names in old reports of the trials!" Fudge shouted at Harry. "For heaven's sake, Dumbledore—the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too—his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them—the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"YOU FOOL!" McGonagall screamed. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, his face so red it looked purple. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these past thirteen years!"

Fudge was such an idiot.

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said calmly. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors—"

"Preposterous!" Fudge yelled again. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

But if they knew how it felt to be locked up in there, they might just change their minds…

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes flashing. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Sirius could help but think that Fudge resembled a fish, with his mouth opening and closing with not a single sound coming out. Dumbledore was right—every single person in the room knew it, even Fudge.

"The second step you must take—and at once," Dumbledore continued, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge repeated, scandalized. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You—you cannot be serious!" Fudge stumbled even further away from Dumbledore, as though he were as crazy as Crouch Jr. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants—people hate them, Dumbledore—end of my career—"

"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, his voice raising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure blood family as old as any—and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now—take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Minister of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act—and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane… Mad…" Fudge hissed, stepping back once more.

No one said anything for a moment, but stared at the Minister with a newfound sense of his personality. How could the man they elected point-blank refuse to accept that Voldemort could find a way to return to power? How could he back away from Dumbledore, when he had just given Fudge helpful advice on how to stop history from repeating itself?

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly yet clearly, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I—I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore was not being threatening; rather, he was simply stating what seemed to be a fact. If Fudge was going to act like a prat, then Dumbledore was going to take steps necessary to keep Voldemort at bay.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," Fudge said, sticking his finger in Dumbledore's face. "I've given you free-reign, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me—"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," Dumbledore said, gentle pushing Fudge's accusatory finger away from him, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

Fudge didn't say anything, but rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. When he spoke, he almost seemed to be pleading with Dumbledore, "He can't be back, Dumbledore… he just can't be…"

Suddenly, Snape strode forward, rolling up the sleeve of his robes as he went. Fudge was taken aback, thinking that Snape was going to attack him. But though that seemed like a good idea to Sirius, Snape said forcefully, "There. There. The Dark Mark." Snape thrust his left arm under Fudge's nose and Fudge peered at it disbelievingly. "It is not as strong as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkakoff's too. Why do you think Karkakoff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkakoff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

"I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore," Fudge muttered wildly, stepping away from Snape, repulsed by his Mark, "but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry." Fudge walked briskly past Dumbledore, but paused at the door. He looked at Harry and walked back toward him. "Your winnings," he said shortly. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

Fudge jammed his little bowler on his head and marched out of the room, his robes whipping behind him. Dumbledore gave a small sigh and looked around at Sirius and Harry's company.

"There is work to be done," he replied. "Molly… am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," Mrs. Weasley said at once. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," Dumbledore nodded. "All those who can be persuaded of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," Bill said, standing up and walking towards Dumbledore. "I'll go right now."

"Excellent. Tell him what has happened," Dumbledore replied. "Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry—"

"Leave it to me," Bill said. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, kissed his mother, pulled on his cloak, nodded to Dumbledore and left the hospital wing.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning to McGonagall. "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also—if she will consent to come—Madame Maxime."

McGonagall nodded, and strode out of the room without another word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore looked to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very—very well," Madam Pomfrey said, looking slightly bewildered. She walked out of the room looking very taken aback.

"And now," Dumbledore said, his eyes resting on Sirius for the first time since they had left his office. "It is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius… if your could resume your usual form?"

Sirius looked up at Dumbledore, gave a small sigh, and transformed into a man.

"SIRIUS BLACK!" Molly screamed, as she leapt away from his chair, and grabbed Ron's wrist in a futile attempt to rescue her son from this mass murderer.

"Mum, shut up! It's okay!" Ron exclaimed, ripping his arm out of her grasp.

Sirius looked at Snape who was glaring at him with pure hate pulsating out of his eyes. "Him! What is he doing here?"

Sirius met his threatening stare with equal loathing and detestation. Sirius wanted to say something wicked and vehement, but Dumbledore spoke first.

"He is here at my invitation, as are you, Severus." Dumbledore looked from Snape to Sirius. "I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Neither of the sworn enemies moved nor spoke. Sirius's fists were balled and he was finding it hard not to pounce on Snape and rip him apart.

"I will settle, in the short term," Dumbledore continued with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

Not blinking, Sirius moved around Harry's bed and stuck out his hand. However much he hated Snape—however much Sirius wished that Snape would drop dead at this moment—Dumbledore was right. Snape stared at Sirius's hand for a moment, then moved forward and took it. But as they shook, they both tightened their grip as hard as they could, hoping to break the other's fingers off.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping in between them, as though hoping that separating them would make them not want to duel each other to the death. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher—the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for awhile; I will contact you there."

"But—" Harry began.

Sirius turned to his godson and walked closer to his bed. For some odd reason, he could feel Molly's eyes burning into his back, and Sirius resisted the urge to ruffle Harry's hair just to make her angry.

He looked at Harry carefully, sincerely wishing that he could stay here with him. "You'll see me very soon, Harry. I promise you," he said. Looking Harry dead in the eye, he added, "but I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Yeah… of course I do."

Sirius smiled at him and shook his hand briefly. He looked around at everybody; Molly still seemed shocked that she had been sitting right next to him the whole time, and didn't know that he was Sirius Black. Finally, Sirius nodded to Dumbledore and transformed into a dog. He hurried the length of the room, turned the doorknob with his paw, and left.

He hurried down the Hogwarts corridors, bounding down the marble stairs at full-speed. He knew that he would have to set out for Remus's straight away… he hoped that he could get there before the night was through, but he wasn't sure.

As Sirius headed toward the Great Hall, he saw the Diggorys being led by Professor Sprout down to the Hufflepuff common room.

"He was a wonderful boy—so bright, and loyal, and honest…" Sprout was saying.

Amos was crying steadily, strong, silent tears that secretly slid down his face and into his beard. His wife, however, seemed solid and her grieving was now far beyond tears. She was listening to Sprout without really listening, though she nodded occasionally and looked at her feet.

They disappeared down the corridor as Sirius felt an empathetic knot in his stomach tighten. Sirius backed away, intending to hide just to be sure they were gone, but he felt himself hit something. He craned his head up and saw Snape standing above him, looking very smug.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" he said with a sneer. "Intruding upon family grief?"

"Nothing of the sort, Snivellus," Sirius said in a dangerous whisper, after transforming instantly. "So, what does Dumbledore want you to do for the Order? Wash your hair, perhaps?"

"Something far more important and far more secret than what he's asked you to do," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"I do hope you realize, Black, that you won't be able to help the Order as much as you seem to think you can. You're an escaped convict… and a hopeless, blithering idiot… there's really no use for you to be in the Order at all," Snape said, continuing down the steps and making his way towards the dungeon's cave-like mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" Sirius called after him, looking warily over his shoulder up the marble staircase.

"Just as I say, Black," Snape said, pausing, "you won't be able to do anything. Not a single thing, except sit at home and twiddle your thumbs."

"I was one of our most influential members thirteen years ago and I still am now. I'm more of an asset to the Order than you ever—"

"Well, I don't know about you being an asset… an ass, surely… but an asset?"

"You think you're so brilliant, don't you? But I know you haven't changed. You're still the same greasy jerk you always were… Up past your eyes in the Dark Arts… conniving little idiot, you were. Don't quite know why Dumbledore decided he could trust you," Sirius said through his teeth.

But Snape suddenly whipped out his wand; Sirius had struck a chord. He stuck the wand in Sirius's face like a dagger and fumed.

Sirius grinned. "Ooh, what're you going to do, Snivelly? Wipe your nose on me?"

"Think what you will. But we'll see who's grinning when you hear what I said come right out of Dumbledore's mouth, won't we?" Snape said violently.

"I wonder what your precious Dark Lord will say when he finds out you're working for his enemy? He might just kill you… but it's only wishful thinking on my part…"

At this remark, Snape bodily grabbed the front of Sirius's robes and pointed his wand right at Sirius's eye. Sirius struggled to rip his clothes from Snape's grasp, but it was no use.

"I should have killed you last year when I had the chance. Should have cursed you into oblivion—right in front of your godson and your best friend. If I had been thinking properly, I would have brought a dementor along with me—could have sucked out your soul right then and there. And just between you and me, Black, nothing would please me more than to see you die a ghastly and excruciating death," he whispered menacingly, his sour and sick-smelling breath filling Sirius's nostrils.

"Well, I'm glad the feeling's mutual!" Sirius said lightly as he attempted to clap Snape on the shoulder, even though his toes were just barely touching the ground. Sirius gave him a haughty smile, and Snape threw him ferociously to the floor. Sirius stood up immediately and brushed himself off.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to write an important and classified letter for the Order…"

Not moving until Snape's footsteps had died away, Sirius popped back into a dog. He wanted nothing more than to run after Snape, jump on his back, and bite him until he cried like the little pansy he was…

But, controlling his anger, he left Hogwarts and ran to Hogsmeade, not stopping or looking over his shoulder until he had reached the mountainside. Only then did he slow down to pick his way over the rocks, his four padded feet tired and aching.

He entered the cave, and saw Buckbeak gnawing on an old, cracked bone. Sirius turned back into a man and started to gather up his very few belongings—his leaking forever-ink quill and the yellowing newspapers, deciding that they wouldn't be worth carrying along. He took Buckbeak forward, leading him by his rope and climbed onto his back with little difficulty.

"We're going to see Remus, Beaky… Come on, up…" Sirius urged, and the hippogriff lifted into the air, and flew right out of the cave's mouth. By no means was Sirius sad to leave that cramped, boring, little hellhole. In fact, feeling the now familiar rush of wind on his face was very refreshing and Snape's taunts that had been clanging in his ears vanished instantly.