Sirius crouched in the corner of Flitwick's cluttered little office, his head buried in his trembling hands. He was trying very hard not to cry.
It had all been going so well—he and Remus had exposed Peter, they'd taken care of Snape, Harry had believed his story—and then everything had collapsed into shit. If only Harry had let him kill Peter…he'd been so close….
Now the Dementors were coming for him, and he would receive their Kiss; it was a fate even worse than death. His blood turned cold at the very thought of it, wandering around as a soulless, lifeless husk, less of a man than he was even in Azkaban….
At least Harry and Remus know the truth now, he told himself, hugging his legs. The rest of the wizarding world might never know Sirius was innocent, but the two people he cared most about would, and really, wasn't that enough? It almost was, he thought; it would be, if only Peter hadn't gotten away. Maybe Remus will track him down for me—
The door to the office swung open; Dumbledore strode in with his robes billowing around him, his expression unreadable as he examined the prisoner before him.
Sirius forced himself to his feet; one of his legs was chained magically to the floor, and it clattered as he stepped towards the old professor. "Harry," he rasped. "His friends…are they safe?"
Dumbledore gave a short nod. "They are recovering in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey—they should be all right."
Sirius shoulders relaxed, just a little. "When…when are the Dementors coming?"
"Soon." Dumbledore glanced down at his watch. "I would like to hear your explanation for the events of tonight first. Severus has told me his side of the story—that you Confounded Harry and the others and had them attack him, that you're in league with your old friend Remus, and that you claim to be after a certain wizard disguised as a rat." Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore silenced him with a tilt of his head. "I must say, I find it all rather odd—why would a wizard such as yourself choose to Confound rather than kill Harry and his friends?"
"I didn't Confound them," Sirius said through his teeth. "They were acting of their own accord when they attacked Snape, because they believed me." Dumbledore blinked, inviting Sirius to continue. "The rat, Ron's rat…he's an Animagus. Peter Pettigrew—he's the one I've been looking for all this time."
"Peter Pettigrew, an Animagus?" Dumbledore sounded disbelieving.
"We're all Animagi, all us Marauders except for Remus…we went through the process so we could help him out on the full moons. See?" Desperate for the headmaster to believe him, he transformed quickly into his dog and back, feeling the magical chain shrink and grow around his leg.
"Oh." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses as Sirius changed as if unsure of what he was seeing. "Well, I suppose that explains how you've been able to sneak around Hogwarts undetected. A dog Animagus…quite curious."
"James could turn into a stag," Sirius murmured. "That's why we called him Prongs, because of his antlers."
"Like Harry's Patronus," Dumbledore said.
"What?"
"Never mind." The headmaster leaned forward a bit and gestured for Sirius to go on. "And Peter…he was called Wormtail, I believe?"
"Yes." Sirius's heart was pounding; Dumbledore seemed to be buying what he was saying, at least a little. "James came up with that one, for his bald little rat tail. We've all been Animagi since we were fifth years—ask Remus if you don't believe me." Anything to delay the Dementor's Kiss for even a night. Remus and Harry would help get him out of this, if only they had time….
"And Peter has been alive all these years, living his life as a simple rodent right under our noses."
"Yes!" Sirius's hands tightened into fists. "He's been hiding ever since he framed me for his murder, and the murders of all those Muggles he killed. He's the one who betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort…they made him their Secret-Keeper just hours before he turned them in. It was my idea—I was suspicious of Remus, and I thought no one would suspect someone like Peter—I swear on my life, Professor, I never would have dreamed of hurting James, or any of them. I loved them, Professor." And now there were tears spilling down his cheeks, thick and fast and warm. "I loved them."
There was a long minute of silence, with Sirius crying and Dumbledore looking him up and down again and again. Finally the headmaster nodded. "Severus told me that Peter was a spy," he said, so quietly that Sirius could hardly hear him.
Sirius wiped at his eyes. "What?"
"After his death—or what I thought was his death—I saw no reason to make the information public…it would have only brought more grief to a mourning family. When I learned of it, I assumed that you and Peter had been working together to assist Voldemort, and Peter's death was the result of some internal struggle among his forces…but perhaps I was wrong."
Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You knew?" he whispered. "You knew he was the spy?"
"Not until it was too late."
"But not too late for me." Bile was rising up into his throat. "It was your testimony that got me sent to Azkaban without a trial. You could have said something—if they'd given me a trial, I could've explained everything, they could've given me Veritaserum…I could've been freed, I could've lived with Remus, I could've raised Harry!"
Dumbledore took a breath. "No, Sirius, you couldn't have," he said. "Harry had to grow up with the Dursleys, with Lily's sister—it's the only way he has been able to survive this long."
Sirius shook his head. "What…what are you even talking about?"
"Lily Potter was not supposed to die the night that Lord Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore murmured. "Voldemort was going to spare her, for Severus…but she died for her son anyway, and her sacrifice was great enough to shield Harry from Voldemort and his Killing Curse. But Harry's protection wouldn't have lasted if he hadn't gone to live with Petunia Dursley—she is Lily's blood, and Harry is safe from Voldemort as long as he can call her home his own. If he'd lived with you instead, who knows what would have happened to him?"
"So that's why you wanted me kept in Azkaban?" Sirius felt numb all over, outside and in. "You wanted me out of the way so Harry could be raised by people his parents hated?" His voice had climbed at least an octave since the start of their conversation.
"Until tonight, I had no reason to believe that you weren't as guilty as everyone thought." How could Dumbledore sound so calm, so level? "You were the Potters' Secret-Keeper, as far as I knew—"
"You should have known I never would've betrayed them," Sirius growled. "You should've known that I could protect Harry; I would have given my life for him if I needed to. You should've known."
"I'm sorry, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "I truly am. But I do believe you now—and you might doubt it, but I promise you it brings me the deepest grief to think that I played a part in your suffering."
Sirius sagged back against the wall, sliding slowly down into Filtwick's office chair. "Clear my name, then," he said tersely. "Get me out of here before the Dementors come."
"You know I can't do that." Dumbledore peered down at his watch again. "But I believe there may be someone who can. Give me a minute, Sirius." He pursed his lips, thinking; then, without another word, he turned and swept out of the office, locking Sirius inside once more.
Sirius slammed his head back against the wall and let out a pained, guttural scream. Things could have been so different, if only Dumbledore had trusted him…even if he believed him now, Dumbledore wasn't going to save him; how could he? He was about to receive the Kiss—the Dementors would be in to see him any moment—
Tap. Tap-tap-tap.
Sirius glanced up, out the window where the noise had come from, and was confronted with a sight he could hardly comprehend: Harry and Hermione were hovering outside on the back of the large gray hippogriff Sirius was fairly sure had just been executed.
Stunned, he rose to meet them, finding to his surprise that the shackle around his leg was gone; Dumbledore must have removed it before he left without Sirius noticing. Had the headmaster really done it—were Harry and Hermione the rescuers he'd sent to free him? But no, that was impossible: Dumbledore had only just left him, and he'd said that Harry was still down in the hospital wing….
Sirius fumbled with the window, trying to wrench it open, but of course it was locked. "Stand back!" Hermione cried, and she magicked free the lock with a perfectly-executed Alohomora.
"How—how—?" Sirius stuttered, leaning out the into the night air with his eyes fixed on the not-dead hippogriff.
"Get on," said Harry, "there's not much time."
Trembling now more than ever, Sirius launched himself out the window and onto the hippogriff's back behind Hermione. Harry called for the creature to rise, and the three of them held on tightly as they climbed through the sky with each beat of the hippogriff's massive wings, carrying Sirius closer and closer to freedom.
