Chapter Twenty Five
The sun was just beginning to rise, the sky to turn a golden pink, as Padfoot finally made it ashore. He emerged from the waves, still as a dog, and squelched along the wet sand before finding a sheltered spot to shake himself dry. Then, once again, he crept out into the open and looked up at the dawn.
And then the sudden headyness of freedom crashed in on him. He was back on the mainland, the sun was shining here, the gulls were wheeling in the sky - crying out, signs of life he thought were lost forever, and he could feel - really feel - really appreciate what was around him and not worry about having it sucked out of him and being left with nothing but pain.
...
He began to yap and bark. He felt more alive than he had ever felt before; more aware of his breath and his heartbeat and the wind in his face. He had sudden, boundless energy and he tried to expend it by barking up at the seagulls. He raced down the beach, through the surf and back up to the rocks, feeling the breeze in his fur. It was cold - bracing - and indescribably wonderful after the stale air of Azkaban.
He threw himself down on the sand and rolled over and over until he was covered in the fine grains - and then he shook them all off himself, like he had done with the water droplets … really going to town with the shaking, until he was dizzy and delirious.
Dogs couldn't laugh … but he gave it as good a go as he could manage, woofing joyfully. He chased a little flock of birds - they flew off squawking indignantly and he yelped after them. And then he raced the length of the beach again.
This was the best he had ever felt. This was a rebirth. To see the sun and smell the salt in the air, feel the wind in his fur … to be able to move freely, not confined to his small cell and to be able to feel joy. Even joy in something so small as being out in the fresh air, at seeing plants and birds and colours. To have kindled happiness inside of himself and to not have to worry about it being stolen away … that was the greatest freedom he had ever known. It was the greatest feeling he had ever felt.
He would never - as long as he lived - forget what this moment had felt like. The breathless, bracing, dizzy joy of no longer being in pain - of having thoughts of his own, of feeling the wind and smelling the sea. But he could not spend all day revelling in it - much as he may want to. If he wanted to stay free, then he needed to prove his innocence … if he wanted Moony to ever have the chance to feel like this - then he had to prove Moony's innocence as well. He had work to do.
...
But - Merlin - the luxury of being able to think of Moony's name - and not immediately hear the death rattle of dementor's breath outside his door, coming to take it from him - was intoxicating. To be able to finally think of Remus, freely and without fear - of his eyes, his smile, the scars which crisscrossed his body - telling a story of his suffering and his immense bravery … Of what it was like to hold him, to kiss him. He closed his eyes and imagined Moony - just for a moment - remembering every touch, every look, every kiss and caress of their wonderful night together.
Without meaning to, he started to make a low, whining, keening noise in his throat.
But he couldn't stand here and dream of Remus any more than he could spend all day racing up and down in the waves. If he wanted another night in Remus' arms - if he wanted them to be free men again, together and with their whole lives ahead of them - then he needed to get a move on.
...
He opened his eyes and peered out as far as he could to sea. The prison was not visible from here - of course it was shrouded in fog and far enough off shore that it was hidden from prying muggle eyes - but he still fancied he could see a swirl of mist in the distance; a more grey patch of bleakness in the bleak and grey seascape, that he thought must be Azkaban.
Moony was still there. Still suffering. And as long as that was the case, then that was where Sirius' heart would be. But he was leaving his heart behind and employing his head instead. He had a Death Eater to catch, and lives to save.
He threw his head back and howled - one last time - though there was no hope Remus could possibly hear him from all these miles away - and then he trudged his way up the beach, heading for the road.
...
He would stay as a dog as often as he could; do as much as he could as Padfoot. The dementors had realised something was wrong last night. He didn't know how long he would have before they worked out what had happened and who was missing, and how long it would then take them to alert the authorities. He did not know how long he would have before the whole might of the Ministry would be out hunting him again. But whether they already knew, or if he was still believed to be safely locked in Azkaban, Padfoot was still the safer form for him to stay in.
The wizarding community was not large, and his picture had been all over the papers for several weeks - he would be too well known to risk being seen, even if no one was looking for him yet. But he needed to find a wizarding family, he needed to swipe their copy of the Daily Prophet - try and listen to the WWN if he got a chance … He needed to find out as much as he could about what Peter was planning before he made his move. And that meant living as a dog. No one would be looking for a dog.
...
The sun was higher in the sky now, the roads were starting to come to life. Padfoot jogged along the path, keeping out of the way of the muggle cars and lorries … he hoped he would find a wizarding home soon.
As he ran, he let himself think about Moony again and once more revelled in the luxury of being able to have happy thoughts.
Still trapped inside the grey, Remus was about as far away from happy thoughts as he had ever been.
The sunrise looked very different here - there were no rosy fingers lighting up the sky. Black simply bleached into grey, stars did not fade away because there had been no stars to start with and no birds sang to greet the dawn. Within an hour of the darkness starting to fade, the sky had turned into the oppressive, leaden sheet of iron that it would remain until the night came back … and Remus was another day closer to death.
But this morning, something was wrong - more wrong than usual. The dementors seemed ...different. There was a feeling - an atmosphere - within the prison that something terrible had happened. Though he didn't know what. If it was possible for these decaying ghouls in black cloaks to seem more serious - less happy - than normal, then they seemed more serious and less happy.
Something had happened - and it wasn't long before Remus realised the dementors were angry … and it wasn't much longer before he realised they were angry with him .
...
The door opened early, as it always did, and Remus scrabbled backwards and pressed himself against the wall as the dementor came in bearing the crust of stale bread and cup of water that made up every meal in this place.
As always, Remus shrank back as far as he could, pressing himself into the rough stone of the walls, while the guard deposited his food near the door … And then he waited until the door had slammed shut and he was locked in again before he dared peel himself away from the edge of the cell and creep towards his meagre breakfast.
And - as poor as it was - he was always so hungry that he grabbed at the bread and crammed it straight into his mouth … trying to ignore that he was squatted down, gnawing at it like a ravenous animal; trying to pretend that he did not care that he was so desperately hungry that all pretence of civility - of being a man - had long since left him.
...
But today - as he bit down into the hard crust - he was suddenly aware of the wheezing, rasping, rattling outside his door. And the cold washed over him, leaving him weak and shaking. The dementor hadn't left, it was still outside.
But he hadn't thought of anything happy. He hadn't let his mind drift to something pleasant, he hadn't thought of Si … He had been so focused on his bread, and on trying to pretend not to care that he was eating it like an animal, and was so carefully not thinking what everyone would say if they could see him reduced to this, that there hadn't been any space in his head for anything even bordering on cheerful.
There was nothing left in him for the dementors to take.
He was all grey - inside and out, drained and miserable and in pain. A hollowed out husk devoid of any colour. There was nothing inside of him that could offer sustenance to the monstrous guard.
And yet it was still outside the door. It wasn't leaving him alone - and the cold was right inside his chest, freezing his heart, gripping his lungs until he felt he couldn't breathe … and as starving as he had been just moments ago, the bread fell from his hand, uneaten, as a wave of nausea washed over him.
...
And then the rasping intensified - and so did the cold - and he realised there was another one out there. Two of them were stationed right outside his door - though he had nothing left to give them, nothing good they could possibly take from him. He was already utterly broken and defeated … and yet, there they were - outside. Gaining nothing from him but staying anyway.
The cold became unbearable.
...
He got to his feet and staggered to the door, beating on it with his fists. 'What did I do?' he yelled out to them. His voice was raspy from lack of use. 'Please - why are you still here? What did I do wrong?'
There came no answer. He had never heard the dementors speak - he didn't suppose they could. But he still called out to them anyway.
'Please!' he banged on the door again. 'I'm not thinking happy thoughts. I've not got any happy thoughts to give you - please. Leave me alone. Please …'
...
There was a great wheezing rattle - a dementor inhaling - and the intense cold brought tears to Remus' eyes. He fought against himself, but he was losing control of his mouth - it was beginning to soften and wobble the way they always do before someone starts to sob in earnest. His words got stuck in his throat and he choked on them. 'Please - leave me alone again. I can't … I haven't … What did I do? Tell me what I did wrong - please. I won't do it again! I promise - just please - leave me alone again.'
But there was nothing but a stern silence in response, a great, yawning emptiness punctuated only by the gasping breath of the dementors… and in the end Remus was so cold and so weak that his legs could no longer support him.
He collapsed against the door, sobbing - still beating against it feebly, crying out to his guards asking them what he had done to make them so angry with him. Why he all of a sudden needed to be under constant guard. 'I'm sorry,' he called to them. 'I am - I won't do it again - just please - don't stay out there. Leave me alone.'
But his cries fell on deaf ears - if dementors had ears - and the cold and the rattling told him that his guards were going nowhere.
...
In the end he crawled his way back to the mattress, ignoring his discarded hunk of bread which lay on the floor where he had abandoned it, and curled up under the thin blanket - crying and shaking and hoping to die.
Dumbledore looked up wearily, as the door to his office opened - and Severus walked in. 'You sent for me, headmaster?' he said.
Dumbledore nodded. 'I have grave news, I am afraid - news that you will not like, which will make you angry.'
A muscle in Severus' face twitched - and he fought to control it. 'Is it about Pettigrew? Has he refused to listen to reason?'
'One disaster at a time, I'm afraid, Severus.' Dumbledore stroked his beard and peered up at the young man in front of him. He wished he had something better to tell him, that the situation was not … what it had become. 'I'm afraid that what I have to tell you is rather more serious than what little Peter Pettigrew has been planning.'
'What is it?'
'I have received a letter from the Minister for Magic. An urgent letter. She herself received rather distressing news from the Azkaban guards in the early hours of this morning.'
Severus remained quiet. He appeared to be holding his breath.
'At some point, late last night, Sirius Black managed to find his way out of his cell. He passed unseen throughout the prison and left the building not long after the moon rose. Or so the guards believe… there was a disturbance - they did not understand it's significance at the time … they cannot see, you see.'
...
He sighed - he had told the Minister so many times that the dementors were not the right guards for the prison - that they needed aurors stationed there, as all other wizarding nations used in their own jails.
'They have searched the fortress and the whole island. There is no sign of Black anywhere. It appears he has escaped.'
...
Severus stared down at him, the muscle in his cheek was twitching even faster now. He sank into the chair and faced Dumbledore. 'That is impossible,' he said - eventually. 'No one has ever escaped from Azkaban.'
'And yet here we are. This is the situation as it stands.'
'And the wolf?' He asked sharply.
'Lupin remains incarcerated. However he did it, whyever he has done it - Black has chosen to leave Lupin behind. Though of course an extra guard has been put on him - in case he has plans to follow.'
'How can this have happened?'
'We do not know - as you say, no one has ever managed to escape before. It was always believed to be escape proof. The sea, the bars … and the dementors' powers are such that those factors are almost entirely unnecessary. The prisoners are locked in jails of their own mind, their own misery - they do not need bars to keep them in. Most go insane within weeks. Most do not survive many years.'
Severus pushed his chair back and got back to his feet - he began to pace. 'And yet Black - Black …'
...
Dumbledore watched him, his expression was grave, his eyes were sad. 'The Minister informs me she spoke with Black earlier in the week. She was inspecting the prison - she met with both of them. Separately of course - they have been kept separate this whole time…' And for all the evil they had done, Dumbledore felt a pang in his heart for them at the thought. Having seen their love for each other, the separation must have been the hardest part for them to bear.
'And?' Severus looked at him expectantly.
'She was greatly perturbed by how she found Black. Lupin was … as you would expect him to be. Terrified, shaking with fear and misery - lost to everything but the thought of the full moon and his imminent…' He didn't finish the sentence, feeling yet another pang in his heart. So pointless. So wasteful ... 'But Black … She said he was different. From any prisoner she had ever seen. He spoke … almost naturally. She said he seemed more bored than anything. As if the dementors did not affect him.'
'They don't affect him?' Severus' brow furrowed as he thought about this. 'And now he has managed to …' His head snapped up, his eyes flashed dangerously. 'How can this be possible?'
'It is said he was Voldemort's right hand man … perhaps, perhaps his old master taught him some tricks. And if one master taught it to his creature, then that creature could have - in turn - passed it on to his own loyal follower. Hence the increased guard on Lupin.'
...
But Severus was shaking his head - he was pacing again, looking agitated and angry. 'If Black was Voldemort's right hand man then it was a secret kept from everyone else. I ...I should know.' He came to a halt, his right hand rubbing his left forearm almost absentmindedly.
Then he seemed to realise what he was doing, looked embarrassed and continued his pacing. 'I don't believe Black was anyone important. He was not known to the inner circle. '
'He was the spy, Severus - his cover was kept a secret from everyone. Otherwise he could not have done his job.'
'Perhaps - but that still does not mean that the Dark Lord taught him skills to escape Azkaban. The Dark Lord made no plans to fall, he had no reason to believe his acolytes were facing prison. Why would he teach Black how to get past the dementors? He .. he never taught me that. And he trusted me. No … this is some devilment of Black's own making.'
...
Dumbledore nodded. 'Perhaps you are right, Severus - that is why I called you here.'
Severus turned to look at him, 'headmaster?'
'I am afraid that once again I must call upon you to go above and beyond your duty. I must make demands of you that I could not ask of anyone else. Would not entrust to anyone else. I have spoken to the Minister and she agrees that, as you caught him before, you should be the one to head up the manhunt for Black now. I am sure you will not let me down.'
'I will not fail you.'
'Thank you, Severus - you will of course have a full team of aurors at your disposal, but you are in charge. I trust you will do whatever it takes to bring him in.'
'Yes, headmaster.'
...
Dumbledore leaned forward and eyed the younger man keenly. 'You remember precisely what is at stake here?'
There was a brief pause and then '... Always.'
There was a long moment of silence - while Dumbledore contemplated the great tragedy that was love, and Severus… he did not know what Severus was thinking. He kept his heart so private and his thoughts even more so.
...
He did not speak again until Severus had turned to leave. 'Oh - and Severus - do try and bring him in alive, won't you?'
The muscle twitched in his cheek again. 'I will do my utmost,' he said from between gritted teeth.
After many hours walking along roadsides and tramping through country lanes, Padfoot came across a ramshackle cottage, standing behind a high garden wall on the edge of a wild looking moor.
The first thing that drew his attention to the house was that it looked shifty - the house did - as if it was trying to hide in plain sight, trying to go unnoticed. There was just something about the shutters on the windows and the slant of the thatched roof that screamed "don't look at me - nothing to see here."
The second thing he noticed, was that the smoke billowing out of the crooked, tumbledown chimney was bright purple.
Added to that was a venomous tentacular plant climbing the garden wall and a hippogriff in a paddock whose augmentation charm was wearing off … Even the muggles couldn't fail to spot those feathery wings...
All in all, the evidence pointed to Padfoot having finally stumbled across a wizarding household. All he needed to do now was get inside and swipe their paper.
...
With his ears pricked up - alert for any sound or sign of discovery, he hopped the wall and made his way through the overgrown garden, staying low in the long grass, until he reached the walls of the cottage. Then he scrambled through a window and fell onto the floor of the kitchen.
There was a cauldron over the fire - and it was the potion inside emitting the purple smoke. A pair of knitting needles flashed through the air, knitting row after row of neat stitches, forming their own way into a scarf - although the witch or wizard who had set them off was nowhere to be seen.
They couldn't be far, though. A plate of bacon sandwiches sat on the kitchen table, next to a steaming cup of a tea and … a copy of today's Daily Prophet.
...
Suddenly ravenous, having eaten nothing but stale bread for weeks, and then having swum ashore and walked for miles, Padfoot wolfed down the bacon sandwiches in a couple of gulps.
He was just standing on his hind legs, lapping at the milky tea, when his ears picked up the sound of footsteps. The owner of the cottage and the sandwiches and the paper was coming back.
And though he was in dog form, and would face nothing more than a whack on the nose with a broomstick for being there, he still didn't want to be seen. A dog stealing a paper was suspicious. And he didn't want to raise suspicions.
So he abandoned the tea, swiped the paper - holding it in his mouth - and jumped back out of the window; running once again through the long grass.
...
It was as he reached the garden wall that he heard the loud and angry exclamation of the wizard who had just found his dinner eaten and his newspaper stolen.
But Padfoot didn't hang around. Jumping the wall, he found himself back out on the moor and began to pad his way down the country lane and away from the little house and the threat of discovery. He needed to find a hideaway, to settle down, get some sleep and read this paper.
