Sirius lost Remus very quickly in the Forbidden Forest. The beast that had been bound all year under Wolfsbane was not eager to be fettered in a different way under Sirius's weight and jaws. He'd raked his claws over Sirius's nose and cheek, and the blood was running uncomfortably down his muzzle. Nevertheless, he chased Remus far enough in that everyone ought to be reasonably safe so long as they didn't come into the woods.

That decided, he turned around to go help Regulus. After all, this time Peter would have left a fresh trail and scent, and with the two of them working together they ought to be able to drag the little rat in by morning and force him to provide the appropriate explanation. Snape probably had some veritaserum in the dungeons somewhere, and Dumbledore could probably convince him to drag it out for an interview.

As he started to bound off, however, a sickeningly familiar cold sensation washed over him. No, you don't, he thought, and picked up his pace. He wasn't going to let them paralyze him with old fear, fear that didn't really matter anymore. It was bloody well over—

Then he realized he was running straight into them. He tried to skid to a stop and turn around, catching Peter in the next five minutes be damned, but they descended too quickly, and he wasn't sure he could have outrun them, anyway.

He growled, trying to hold onto his anger. Combined fury with himself for not remembering it was full moon and Peter for escaping wasn't a happy feeling, really, but it took some strength and focus to hold onto . . . focus he was quickly losing, as old guilt and old fear, the dementors' old friends, took its place.

Sirius realized distantly that he was crouched in a submissive position with his tail between his legs, whimpering. In his mind's eye he was twelve years ago, telling Lily and James to switch Secret-Keepers. The stupidest moment of his life.

Something flipped a switch in his body and he returned to human form. "N-no," he muttered, shaking his head in a feeble and unsuccessful attempt to clear it. There had to be at least a dozen of them. "You've got other things to do, you can't just sit here shaking! Get moving, Sirius!"

Then he remembered that they'd been authorized to Kiss him, and any strength that was in his body seemed to have left him. "No," he moaned again.

From out of nowhere Harry and Hermione burst into the scene. "Hermione, think of something happy!" Harry hollered, brandishing his wand at the nearest dementor with a look of fevered concentration his face. "Expecto patronum!"

Sirius made some attempt to get his shaky legs to move. You've got to get them out of here, they can't manage that, they're just kids! a voice inside his head shouted.

Hermione was proving that voice right. "Ex— expecto . . . . expecto patro— expecto patronum. . . ." she muttered weakly, but nothing happened.

Sirius tried to stand up again, but it was as if a fog was clouding over his thoughts and his vision. Harry shouted the spell again and a thin wisp of smoke left his wand. Impressive for a thirteen-year-old wizard, but useless against a dozen dementors.

If nothing else you need to get the kids out! that voice screamed again. You know they won't stop with you! Come on, Sirius! . . . Sirius! . . . . Siri. . . . .

Before he was really aware of anything else, Sirius noticed the headache. It was fierce, pounding, and he could barely think through it . . . but he could think. He was alive. He still had a soul.

What that left was the questions of where he was and where the dementors had gone. He was lying on his back on something relatively soft, but after having spent twelve years of sleeping in Azkaban and a portion of the last year in the Forbidden Forest, he was aware that wasn't necessarily saying much. The air was still, so he'd probably been taken indoors, but that was all he could determine while lying still with his eyes tightly closed.

"Ungh?" he mumbled, reaching up to rub his head.

"Ah. I see you have returned to the world of the living."

Sirius considered this statement critically for a moment, still not ready to open his eyes. "Getting there," he mumbled at last.

The voice chuckled slightly. "As you have just been attacked by dementors. . . . Well, if you need a remedy I believe Filius keeps a few chocolate frogs in the bottom drawer of his desk."

Filius. . . . The name sounded familiar. Sirius waited as patiently as he could for his crawling brain to find the connection. "Professor Flitwick?" he asked after what seemed like an eternity. "Charms teacher?"

"Yes. You are in his office."

"Then what happened?" he mumbled.

"That, Mr. Black, is something I had hoped you could tell me," the voice said calmly.

Sirius groaned and sat up, finally opening his eyes. He'd been lying on a rug in the office, and Professor Dumbledore was watching him with interest. Apparently he had removed the perpetual stack of books from Flitwick's chair, because the tall headmaster was seated behind the desk without apparent difficulty. They were alone, although he had no doubt this was only because he was wandless, and even less doubt that the doors and windows were tightly locked.

"Erm. . . ." he mumbled. His brain still seemed to be working at an incredibly slow pace, and for a few minutes all he could remember were the faceless heads of the dementors. Then, suddenly, the rest of the scene clicked back into place and started a panic. "What the hell happened to everybody else? Reggie and Remus . . . and the kids?" he demanded, half-afraid of the answer.

"Remus is still deep in the forest," Dumbledore assured him. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione were brought to the hospital wing by Professor Snape."

"So he came to," Sirius muttered, still massaging his pounding temples. At least Snape was not about to let a dozen dementors Kiss a couple of kids, even if he'd probably gladly pay to watch them do it to him.

"Well, he did have a rather nasty cut on his head."

"That wasn't me," Sirius said before he even had a chance to think, the product of far too many conversations with the headmaster concerning injuries to Snape. "The kids did that trying to disarm him. What about Peter and Reggie?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about," Dumbledore told him.

"Peter Pettigrew . . . Ron's rat . . . Well, they're the same person," Sirius tried to explain. "And Reggie. . . ." He swallowed, reminded himself to at least attempt to be coherent, and tried to explain again. "Peter Pettigrew and my brother."

Dumbledore leaned forward a bit along Flitwick's desk and steepled his fingers in a characteristic gesture Sirius had come to recognize as Dumbledore in thought. "To the best of my knowledge, they have both been dead for over a decade, Sirius," he replied softly.

"Well, they're not," Sirius answered flatly and bit his lip. He'd explained once already tonight, but at least in the Shrieking Shack he'd had proof. "They're both unregistered Animagi . . . a rat and a fox. . . . They transformed so that people would think Nott or I blew them up when they supposedly died. . . . Oh, damn it, I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore told him. "Stories are best begun at the beginning, I believe."

"It's a bit long," Sirius announced. "But, well . . . I guess I'd better start when we were in school. . . ."

Before he really knew what was happening, he was pouring the entire story out to Dumbledore. It was easier this time, perhaps because he'd already told it once, perhaps because Remus and Regulus weren't trying to tell their side of it at the same time, or perhaps because Dumbledore proved to be a slightly better listener than the kids. He only interrupted twice, when Sirius had left out for the sake of speed something that the headmaster hadn't known.

". . . and now I guess Reggie's still in the Forest looking for Peter, since he's our only chance at getting anyone to believe us, so he doesn't know what's going on up here and won't until it's too late, and. . . ." Sirius hesitated, trying to think of anything he'd left out. "And you probably think I'm mad," he finished lamely.

"On the contrary," Dumbledore answered quietly. "That story was not the product of a madman. You are lucid man with a coherent explanation. A panicked explanation as well, yes, but that is understandable. Had you been mad I would not have just been treated to a story that makes perfect if slightly perverse sense."

It dimly occurred to Sirius that he was holding his breath.

"Furthermore, I can be fairly certain you aren't simply making it up. I don't even have to ask you transform, although I'm sure you could if I asked. There is, after all, the matter of your brother. It would have been necessary to reinvent Peter Pettigrew to prove your innocence, but not Regulus. He adds another element of the impossible to your story without furthering the end. So the only reasonable conclusion, since you aren't mad, is that you did not reinvent him."

The caught breath now burning Sirius's lungs was expelled in a massive sigh of relief. "So you believe me?" he demanded.

For half a second a look of slight discomfort passed over Dumbledore's face, but it was gone so quickly Sirius hoped he had simply imagined it. "Yes, Sirius," he said quietly. "I do believe you."

"Thank God," he mumbled— this situation had progressed far beyond Merlin.

"However," Dumbledore added, still quietly, "I do not have the power to override a Ministry decision, nor to make other men see the truth, and you must admit that your story is a bit fantastic— Severus's assumptions are much more credible."

Sirius closed his eyes. Perhaps Dumbledore hadn't always had the answers during the war . . . but this wasn't the war. This had happened on Hogwarts grounds, where Dumbledore had always had the answers. He wasn't sure he could accept this. "So . . . so I guess . . . I guess you're saying that this is . . . this is it, then?" he asked hesitantly.

Dumbledore stood up and made his way towards the door. "Oh, I'm not sure I would go so far as to say that," he answered, and there was that twinkle behind the half moon spectacles that he had when he was keeping his cards close to his chest. "After all, where there is life, there is hope. Macnair will be up here in about fifteen minutes."

And with that cryptic reply, he left.

Sirius stared at the door, stunned and mouthing wordlessly, for almost a full minute. Then the prospect of dementors coming into the office resurfaced in his mind.

"Dammit!" he growled, pounding the wall with both fists. When that failed to alleviate the pressure on his chest, he tried again and again until he was out of swear words and his fists ached fiercely. But with the prospect of dementors at the door in a few minutes, hitting things and swearing didn't have their usual cathartic effects.

Author's Note: That was a fairly short chapter and the only rabid Sirius fangirling we'll see for awhile, since 1994 is promising to be fairly Regulus centric. Regulus didn't make it into this chapter mostly for length purposes (this thing would be twice as long if I included the next scene), although I promise his search for Peter is the subject of next chapter and that it could not in any way be considered a cliffhanger, although it does of course leave a few lingering questions open for the conclusion. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed, as always I really appreciate it! Cheers! — Loki