Chapter Thirty Three
With only twenty four hours before Peter met Harry in front of the entire wizarding world's press, Sirius had work to do. If he did this right, then by tomorrow evening Peter would be in jail and Remus would be out of it. He could not afford any mistakes.
...
First off, he needed to hide his identity. So - to that end - he wandered the streets until he found a likely looking muggle - a young man of about his own age, who was quite good looking. (So what if the capture of the real murderer, the protection of Harry, and Remus' freedom all rode on this? … Sirius still had standards. He wasn't going to be seen in public as ancient, ugly or dishevelled.)
...
Trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, he followed the young man down the road and then into a coffee shop, where the muggle waited at the counter for his order. Sirius lurked behind him … getting closer … closer … And then just as it was time for the man to pay, Sirius' hand shot out and he yanked out a handful of hairs right at the nape of the man's neck.
'Ow!' the man clapped his hand to the back of his neck and turned around to see who had done that … But Sirius was already running out of the shop - and did not heed the cries of 'what the hell is wrong with you? Weirdo!' that followed him.
...
Once he was a safe distance away, and hidden down an alley - away from prying muggle eyes, he dropped the stolen hairs into his stolen vial of polyjuice potion - and took a quick swig.
Almost immediately he felt his skin begin to bubble and melt as his features changed. He felt himself shrink an inch or two - and thick, blonde hairs began to sprout on his arms. His insides churned and he thought he was going to be sick... And then, a moment later, the transformation was complete. The bubbling and churning came to a stop. He raised his hands, which were now strange and different, and patted his face - feeling his new features. He ran his fingers through his new, much shorter hair. This was good. This would do. Though … he glanced down, the filthy prison robes he was wearing were a bit of a giveaway. He needed new clothes.
...
He emerged from the alleyway, rounded the corner … and bumped straight into the man whose hair he had just stolen. The man's eyes widened in alarm as he came face to face with his own doppelganger. 'Hey! what…?'
But once again, Sirius didn't hang around to explain - and just fled. He kept on running until he came to a second hand store, the type of shop people donated old clothes too and then the proceeds went to charity. This one was for the Cats Protection League … and Sirius was more of a dog person, so he didn't mind stealing from them.
It was for a good cause after all - saving a baby and rescuing an innocent man from execution.
...
A bell rang over the door as he slid inside the store, nodding his head at the old, muggle lady behind the counter. And then - still trying to look unobtrusive - went over to the men's clothes section and rifled through until he found a pair of trousers and a shirt that would roughly fit him in both his current form and his real one.
With a sleight of hand, he held up two pairs of trousers - one in each hand - as if examining them - and then put both coat hangers into the same hand, before lowering them and returning one pair to the rack and shoving the other up his prison robes. He did the same with the shirt. He browsed the shelves for a few moments more … looking nonchalant.
Then he headed for the door.
'Thanks,' the old lady said as he left.
He nodded at her again - she wouldn't be thanking him for his custom if she realised he had just stolen from her.
...
Down yet another alley, he stripped off his robes and put on his new clothes, bundling his prison uniform into a heap and stuffing it into an overflowing waste bin. It felt unbelievably good to not be wearing those horrible, filthy things any more.
And now - fully disguised - he headed back to Diagon Alley. He was going to watch them prepare The Leaky Cauldron for the meeting tomorrow; see if he could find the best way to get inside.
Severus had only snatched a few hours sleep the previous night - and was back at the aurors' office bright and early; preparing and finalising the plans for the next day. Having to stop and write to Dumbledore at every juncture was making the whole process so much slower than it needed to be. If Black slipped through his grasp because he had had to waste time writing to the old man ...
He tutted in impatience - and went back to scrutinising his floorplans of the pub, occasionally prodding one of his enchanted figures with his wand to make it move to a different place, and then tilting his head to see if that worked better. It was like a highly complex game of chess … where he could not see his opponent's pieces.
...
The door opened and Shacklebolt came in - looking as tired as Severus felt. 'Any news?' Severus demanded.
But Shacklebolt shook his head. 'No sightings of Black - or a dog - this morning.'
'He may already be using the polyjuice potion. Send extra aurors to The Leaky Cauldron, have them watch the preparations - see if there's anyone hanging about.'
'We're getting pretty thin on the ground. I don't know that's there's anyone to spare.'
'Oh - well - then - we'll just let Black go shall we? Find someone! Station a guard!' He snorted in disbelief at the incompetence of the Ministry.
...
'There is -' Shacklebolt hesitated for a second. 'There is this. Thought you should see it.' He threw today's issue of the Daily Prophet down on the table.
Severus picked it up - and felt the burn of anger, which stoked itself up all the way to a boiling rage as he read what the newspaper had to offer this morning.
...
The Net Tightens!
The Ministry lays an inescapable trap for Sirius Black
With less than twenty four hours to go before deranged murderer and Death Eater, Sirius Black, attempts to murder little Harry Potter and the people's hero - Peter Pettigrew - the Ministry of Magic are finalising their plans to recapture him and return him to Azkaban just in time for the execution of his pet werewolf, Remus Lupin.
It is the belief of the Ministry that the sole reason Black has broken out of prison is to attend the arranged meeting and use this moment to complete the work of his dark master - He Who Must Not Be Named. Rumour has it that a copy of this very newspaper was discovered in Black's cell in Azkaban, open on the page revealing the details of Little Harry and Peter's emotional reunion. (Rumour also has it that he received his copy of the newspaper from none other than Millicent Bagnold, herself - and enquiring minds want to know how this security oversight was allowed to happen under the direction of the Minister and whether or not the prison is as safe as they tell us it is, when their own officials act in so cavalier a manner.)
When speaking to Peter Pettigrew about what all this meant for him, the brave best friend of the Potters remained stoical. 'It is what it is - and I'm not afraid,' he says, shrugging his shoulders philosophically. 'I have every confidence in the Ministry aurors sent to protect me. They will capture Black.'
And he has good reason to be confident: 'A team of highly qualified aurors will be patrolling The Leaky Cauldron,' Pettigrew exclusively reveals. 'Whatever disguise he tries to use - dog or man - the Magical Law Enforcement team are ready for him. And I know his recapture will enthrall and entertain the nation in equal measure. We can sleep easy in our beds knowing that the best of the best is on the case - and I am proud to, in my own small way, play a part in Black's rearrest.'
Perhaps his confidence is boosted not least by the knowledge that it is his own former classmate and our own Champion of Justice, Severus Snape, who is masterminding the whole endeavour.
As we discovered at Black's trial - there is no one out there who knows his mind better than our enigmatic, young potions master. The noble Severus knew the true nature of Black's character long before anyone else recognised it - and therefore there is no one better placed to set the trap for Black tomorrow.
It is believed there will be specially designated teams of aurors and hit wizards stationed in plain clothes, hidden amongst the crowd, and blocking the exits. Once Black finds his way inside, he will stand very little chance of making it out again a free man. And as the world's press will be there (including yours truly - Rita Skeeter - the award winning journalist who breaks every major story in Britain) you will all have a front row seat to his capture and rearrest.
Tomorrow should prove to be a thrilling event for us all.
...
By the time he had finished reading, Severus' hands were trembling so badly the whole newspaper shook - and he could feel a vein pulsing in his forehead, like it might pop at any moment.
With a snarl of rage he hurled the Prophet at the far wall. It hit, slid to the floor and then spontaneously combusted under Severus' glare.
Shacklebolt looked alarmed.
...
Severus sucked in a great lungful of breath, trying to steady himself. It didn't work. 'Get me the editor,' he spat from between gritted teeth. 'Who's in charge of this office? Get them too. Go higher - I want Barty Crouch - I want Bagnold, herself, in here. And I want a muzzle sticking on this paper until all this is over - and I want that Skeeter woman fired immediately. At the very least.'
He took another deep breath. His voice still trembled with anger. 'It was bad enough when she told the world - and so told Black - that we knew he was an animagus. But now she is telling him our plans to recapture him. Everything she prints puts him at an advantage because he knows our every move. At this rate we might as well invite him round for a cup of tea and then let him go with a light wrist slap.' He took yet another deep breath. He still wasn't any calmer.
'We could change our plans,' Shacklebolt said. 'Attempt to wrongfoot him.'
But Severus shook his head. 'This is our best chance. If we don't go through with tomorrow, then we have no idea where he'll go or what he'll try next. We'll be at worse than square one.'
'Very well - I'll - I'll send an owl to the editor asking him to come here.'
Severus nodded his head, curtly - to show his thanks. 'And then send someone from the enchantment regulation office out to Azkaban. Let's get Black's cell ready for him … so we can at least feel like we're making progress.'
The sound of marching footsteps forced Remus to his feet … though he couldn't begin to think who would be coming for him this time. Except today, the feet did not stop outside his door - but carried on past, headed for the tower.
...
He peered out from between the bars and watched a whole handful of wizards, pale faced in the company of a dementor, come clumping past.
'What's happening?' he called out to them - though he did not expect an answer.
He got one though. One of the wizards ran his wand across the bars, making them clang and setting off sparks which forced Remus to jump back. A face leered in at him. 'We're getting the cell ready for your lover boy, werewolf,' its owner said. 'He'll not be transforming into an animal in there any time soon. He won't escape again - animagus or not.'
Remus felt sick. 'You haven't caught him?'
'It's just a matter of time.'
...
He felt himself relax, the wave of nausea left him … and he went back to sit on his mattress, as the team of wizards disappeared up the stairs to Sirius' cell.
They hadn't caught him. He was still free. With any luck he would remain free for a long time to come. Maybe forever. All they were doing up in the tower was preparing for what they hoped would happen. That they would successfully arrest an animagus and then use enchantments on his cell to prevent him from transforming once inside it.
But success for them was not guaranteed. Sirius had managed to beat them all so far, beaten all the odds. Perhaps he could keep on doing so.
...
This close to the end, there was nothing else left for Remus to hope for.
Sirius arrived in Diagon Alley via Knockturn Alley. Once again he skirted round all the dark wizards who lurked there - and fought the urge to start throwing stones of his own, when he spotted the werewolf from yesterday. It made him seethingly angry to think that the vast majority of the world did not draw any distinction between that rough, vicious creature and his own, lovely Remus. As if they had anything at all in common.
But he couldn't afford to get lost in thoughts of Remus right now - even if being able to think about him freely was the very best part of being out of prison. He needed to concentrate - find out what was going on at The Leaky Cauldron and discover his best way inside.
...
The archway between the pub and the street was opened up and a large cart, pulled by an abraxan winged horse, was parked there. The cart was piled up with crates of plates and goblets and ingredients and delicacies - and a whole team of wizards were unloading it.
The wizards were all dressed the same, in long, white robes with an emblem of 5 intersecting Cs emblazoned on the breast. They must work for Caradoc Carew and his Classic Catering Company. They would be preparing and serving the refreshments at the meet and greet tomorrow.
Sirius watched them with interest. They had an ironclad reason to be inside the pub. And no one would be checking up on them - the way they would no doubt be checking up on members of the public who came to watch. If he could just hide himself among their number he would be in …
...
One catering wizard - a young man not too many years older than Sirius - plonked his wand down on the base of the cart as he scrambled inside to get the next crate.
Sirius eyed it eagerly, almost hungrily. He hadn't had a wand since his arrest. If he could just steal one then everything would be so much easier.
He began to edge towards the cart. Closer … closer … his hand stretched out …
'Where's my...?' the wizard suddenly reappeared on top of the cart, huffing and puffing under the weight of the box he was carrying. 'Oh there it is … lose my head if it wasn't attached.' He squatted down and picked up his wand and, feeling defeated, Sirius stepped back into the shadows.
...
The sudden chiming of the Gringotts' clock told him it was time to take another swig of polyjuice potion.
By the time he was done, the young catering wizard had handed his crate to someone else and come back for another one. Once again, he abandoned his wand … once again Sirius began to edge closer to it.
'Oi, Albert,' one of his colleagues shouted. 'Come in here a minute.'
'Hang on - I just need my … there it is' he scooped up his wand again, and disappeared inside.
...
Sirius moved closer to the pub, squeezing past the cart. He could see the team of wizards in the kitchen - and he could hear what they were saying through the open window.
'We're going to pull wands to see who comes in and opens up and start prepping tomorrow,' the head wizard was saying. 'Put 'em in boys.' He held out his hat - and the whole team dropped their wands inside. Their boss gave his hat a shake and then held it out to Tom, the toothless barman of the pub, who dipped his hand in and pulled one out.
'Good good - whose is that?' the boss asked.
'Mine,' the round faced Albert said, looking glum.
'Excellent - well - you need to be here for 8:00 am sharp. Tom'll let you in the kitchen and then you need to get everything ready to go. We'll be here for half nine. Show starts at half ten.'
'Alright.'
'No being late now, Albert.'
'No, Mr. Carew.'
Job finished, they all started to head back outside again. Sirius slipped away, past the cart and headed back to the shadows.
...
''Ere,' a loud voice suddenly said behind him, 'what are you doing?'
He turned to look - an auror was standing right there, eyeing him up suspiciously. It was one of the ones who had arrested him all those weeks ago. He fought the urge to kick him in the shins.
'N- nothing,' he said.
'Who are you?'
'Uh …'
...
He tried desperately to think of a name, but was drawing a blank. Why was it everyone he knew, in the whole world, was either dead, famous or in prison? 'S- Stubby Boa- Boardman. Stubby Boardman,' he said - making something up.
The auror still looked suspicious. 'Why you dressed like that?'
'Like what?'
'A muggle.'
'Oh - uh - I'm … part of the dog snatching unit,' he lied. 'We have to be in mufti.'
'Right well - get on with yer then - get back to your dog snatching.'
'Right - will do. Nose to the grindstone.' And he hurried off down the street, palming himself another vial of polyjuice potion from outside of the apothecary as he went. He may be no murderer - but he was getting to be quite the accomplished thief.
...
He walked away from the wizarding world, and headed back to the safety of muggle London - allowing the potion to lapse, and his normal face to return, now he was hidden among 8 million people who had never heard of him.
It didn't matter that he had been moved along from Diagon Alley. He knew what he needed to know. He knew what he was going to do. He would be back there tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock sharp.
Albert the catering wizard would never even know what had hit him.
As afternoon slipped into evening, the aurors office remained packed and busy. Wizards bustled hither and thither putting the final touches on the plans for the next day, others rushed in and out with memos. The editor of the Daily Prophet had been hauled in and spoken to in no uncertain terms by Milicent Bagnold and a broken looking Barty Crouch Sr. It was all starting to come together.
...
Severus felt almost fizzy with nervous energy - there was a lurking dread that he was not allowing himself to feel. His hands were trembling almost constantly now and he knew that - even if he tried - he would get no sleep tonight.
This time tomorrow it would all be over. This time tomorrow, Lily's murderer would be behind bars, where he belonged - and Severus would be victorious. He had thought of everything - he was sure of it.
...
The door opened and Proudfoot came in, carrying another memo and something bundled up under his arm. 'Strange story doing the rounds, Snape,' he said.
'What is it?'
'Dog snatchers were out and about in muggle London again - nothing but strays - but anyway, one of them overhears this muggle talking to another one. Young man, he was. Said that some freak had pulled the hair right out of his head and then run off.'
'So?'
'Well there was nothing he could do about it- so he goes about his business, like. But then he's walking down the street and he bumps into himself. Literally - a man identical to him. But wearing different clothes - weird clothes, he said - the clothes the nutter who had pulled his hair out had been wearing...'
'Black,' Severus said.
'Well exactly - getting the hairs for his polyjuice potion, wasn't he? So the dog snatchers start searching the area … and they find this... ' He dropped the bundle onto the table. Severus picked it up. They were robes. Grey and thin and utterly filthy. Prison robes.
'He's changed clothes.'
'Well either that or he's walking around in the altogether … sorry,' he muttered, when he saw the sharp look Severus gave him.
'So he's got a new face and a new outfit. Did they get a picture of this muggle?'
'Yep' - he handed Severus a muggle photograph of a young, good looking man.
...
'OK everyone, gather around,' Severus raised his voice, drawing the aurors to him. 'There's been a development. Now we know Black has polyjuice potion and could look like anyone - but we have reason to believe that, tomorrow, this will be the man you are looking for.' He held up the picture of the muggle.
In the middle of the crowd, Dawlish swallowed nervously. 'Uh - Snape?' he raised his hand. 'I already saw that man today … outside The Leaky Cauldron...'
This late in the year, the sun set in the afternoon - and it was fully dark by 5. Remus sat alone in his cell - waiting for his evening meal. It wouldn't be long now until it was his last meal. 72 hours and they would be coming for him. He fought down a sense of panic and forced himself to think of something else.
Sirius was still free. Another day was gone - and he was still beating the odds.
...
Remus glanced at his door - wondering how long he had until the dementors realised what he was doing - and then closed his eyes, shutting out the hateful moon and instead picturing Sirius. He imagined he had run away somewhere warm and tropical - where it was still sunny right now. He imagined him drinking cocktails out of coconut shells on a white, sandy beach - laughing because he knew the dementors could never find him here.
He focused in on his laugh - his smile, the way his grey eyes flashed in amusement … Remus' skin flushed warm and his heart began to beat more rapidly in his chest…
...
And then came the death rattle. And the picture of Sirius was sucked from him - leaving only grey and misery. Well, that was all he was getting for now, then. But - with only 72 hours to live - he was going to think about Sirius as often as he could manage it … No matter how many times the dementors stole him away again.
By the time Severus had finished yelling, it was fully dark. Too angry to speak with Dawlish himself, he made Shacklebolt and Proudfoot question him for all the pertinent details of his encounter. Meanwhile, he had written to Dumbledore - filling him in on everything he knew, and was awaiting the owl which would tell him the headmaster agreed to his plans and he was free to continue.
He stared out of the window, up into the dark sky. This time tomorrow …
Under his bridge, Sirius tried to get to sleep. He needed to be up early tomorrow and could not afford for anything to go wrong - least of all him being too tired and dull-witted to do what needed to be done.
...
A ray of moonlight shone onto his face, and he sneaked open one eye and stared up at it.
It was so nearly full … Remus must be beginning to feel weak and shivery and achey - the way he always did when the full moon approached. Only it would be a thousand times worse than normal this month, locked in Azkaban and waiting to die.
Still - it would never come to that. This time tomorrow ...
