The unexpected discovery of the presence of Remus at Hogwarts, and his subsequent encounter with him, left Sirius deeply shaken, and for a short while, even managed to distract him from his plans concerning Peter. But after several nights of intermittent sleep populated by unsettling dreams, he slowly began to regain his focus. Harry's safety, after all, was the most important thing. Once he saw to that, there would be plenty of time to sort out the jumble of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.
Security on the castle had tightened since his Halloween visit. He would have to wait a while before he risked another break-in attempt. There would certainly be no getting into Gryffindor tower without the password, and unless he could get that, his chances of cornering Peter were slim. He would have to formulate a better plan next time. In the meantime, he waited and he watched.
He was close at hand for every one of Harry's Care of Magical Creatures classes, reassuring himself of Harry's well-being. It disturbed him that Harry was clearly close friends with Ron Weasley, the redheaded boy who "owned" Peter. But if Harry's friendly associations were troubling on the one hand, they were unexpectedly helpful on the other.
Crookshanks' mistress, Hermione Granger, turned out to be Harry's other close friend, the bushy-haired girl with prominent front teeth. He had also learned that Crookshanks was much more intelligent than the average house cat. If he could somehow get the animal to trust him, and communicate to it what he needed, it might be an invaluable ally. After all, the thing lived in Gryffindor tower; not only would it know the password, but it might be convinced to keep an eye on Harry for Sirius. It was definitely a possibility worth considering.
A week after Halloween, however, another event occurred which distracted Sirius from his plans. The Quidditch season had begun, and when he saw the entire school heading down to the pitch that morning, he could not resist sneaking in as Padfoot to watch.
To his delight, Gryffindor were playing against Hufflepuff. But that was nothing compared to Sirius's joy at discovering that Harry held the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor team.
No surprise there, he thought, grinning a doggy grin. Prongs being who he was.
He settled into a fairly empty area at the back of the stands, with only a few quizzical glances aimed his way, before the match began and no one had attention for anything but the action of the game.
The weather was dreadful, and the players were soaked to the skin within minutes, gusts of wind frequently forcing them off course. Thunder boomed ominously from the lowering sky. Sirius was glad of his coat of thick, black fur, but gazed longingly at the brightly-coloured umbrellas thrown up over huddled groups of students all around the pitch.
During an early time out, he caught himself checking to see if Remus had come to watch the match, but could find him in neither the Gryffindor stands, nor the section reserved for Hogwarts professors. Remus had never been quite as fanatical about Quidditch as the rest of them, but Sirius was surprised that he had not come to see Harry play.
The electricity in the air from the storm seemed to heighten the excitement of the crowd, and Sirius found himself getting caught up in the action, as if he were swooping and diving along with Harry through the driving rain. He followed Harry with his eyes, tongue lolling in a grin of paternal pride.
You watching this, Prongs? he wondered. I think the kid's got you beat.
A flash of lightning illuminated the stadium, burning the shapes on the pitch into his retinas. Fourteen players, one referee, and a lone hooded figure near the entrance to the grounds. A wave of cold swept over Sirius.
A second Dementor joined the first, and then a third. Instinctively, Sirius threw himself down, cowering between the rows of seats. Wave after wave of cold assailed him, and he knew that more Dementors were arriving. He pressed himself against the cold, wet boards of the stands.
Suddenly, a scream split the air. More screams and gasps quickly followed.
"Oh my God!" shrieked a girl. "He's falling!"
Sirius looked up, and indeed, far out across the pitch a dark-haired figure had tumbled from his broomstick, fifty feet above the ground. The broom sailed away out of the stadium as a whine of fear escaped Sirius, and he tensed himself to spring, to run and save his godson, even though he knew there was no way he could possibly reach him in time. As often happens when one witnesses something horrible and unpreventable, time seemed to slow for Sirius.
No, he realised suddenly, Harry was actually falling more slowly. Sirius pricked up his ears in surprise. Then he caught sight of a tall figure with a long, silvery beard striding out onto the pitch. Dumbledore. And in a towering rage, from the look on his face. Sirius gave an inward sigh of relief. Harry was safe.
He made a hasty, slinking exit in the chaos following the Dementors' retreat, still shaking with reaction. Even from the back of the stands, he could hear Dumbledore's ringing tones ordering the Azkaban guards back to their positions at the entrance to the castle grounds. Harry was lying unconscious on the muddy pitch, but there was nothing Sirius could do to help him. Perhaps he could find the boy's wayward broom for him.
As he left the Quidditch stadium, violent movement caught his eye. The Whomping Willow's branches were flailing in the storm, pounding the ground near its trunk. When Sirius crept closer to investigate the source of its agitation, a flash of lightning revealed the remains of a broomstick, pulverised nearly beyond recognition. He could be of no help here either.
Sirius was wracked with guilt. He knew, of course, that the Dementors were responsible for Harry's fall, and the subsequent loss of his broomstick, but still he suffered from the emotion felt by every parent who is unable to prevent some harm from befalling their offspring, as well as the guilty knowledge that it was because of him that the Dementors were at Hogwarts in the first place. He was frantic to get word of Harry's welfare, but knew he could not risk sneaking into the castle again so soon after his Halloween adventure.
Instead, he returned to Hagrid's hut, whining and scratching at the door, but of course Hagrid had been at the match, and would not be back until things had calmed down. He could hear Fang barking on the other side of the door, but had no choice but to wait for Hagrid's return. He paced back and forth in front of the steps, too worried to sit still. At last, Hagrid returned from the castle.
"Ah, poor beast," he said, patting Sirius's head. "Yer soaked through. Why don' yeh come in an' sit by the fire?"
Sirius whined gratefully and entered the hut. He and Fang sniffed one another benignly, and he shook the worst of the water from his coat while Hagrid removed his own moleskin overcoat and knelt to add wood to the stove. Once the fire blazing merrily, Hagrid sat back on his heels.
"We had some excitement today at the Quidditch, boys," he said to Sirius, Fang, and Buckbeak. He shook his head. "Dementors on the pitch. Dumbledore was righ' furious, an' no wonder! Nasty, cold things. Scared poor Harry righ' of his broom. Thought me heart'd stopped when I saw him fall. But Dumbledore says he'll be alrigh'. Great man, Dumbledore." He shook his head again.
Sirius sighed with relief. Harry was going to be fine. Apart from the loss of his broomstick. Sirius remembered well the close personal relationship James had shared with his own racing broom. He could well imagine how he would have felt at being suddenly deprived of it. There was clearly no fixing the broom, even if all the pieces could be retrieved.
I wish I could get him a new one, he thought.
There was a scratching at the door, and Hagrid opened it to reveal the ugly, squashed face and sodden ginger fur of Crookshanks. Sirius began to have an idea.
It was not an easy task making Crookshanks understand what he wanted. It was clear from the cat's interactions with Hagrid that he understood human speech reasonably well, but Sirius was not sure he could risk changing in order to explain things. For one thing, the change would probably startle the animal, and cause it to run off, and for another he was not sure he wanted to blow his cover, even in front of a cat.
He was at a loss to know how to communicate without speaking. There was only so much information one could glean from expression and body language, and very little of it included the dangers of an Animagus rat or the finer points of mail order. He wondered how dogs and cats normally communicated with one another, before realising that it probably involved a lot of growling, barking, hissing, and chasing, not to mention sharp claws. Not helpful under the current circumstances.
He had never been terribly good at Legilimency or its counterpart, Dictamency - the ability to project one's thoughts into the mind of another - but he could think of nothing else to try. Experimentally, he focussed his eyes and his mind on the furry, ginger lump curled up on the hearth rug near him. With all his might, he willed the cat to look at him.
For a moment, it seemed to have no effect, then the cat's head snapped up, and it looked around warily, trying to identify the source of the disturbance. Sirius watched as the cat's eyes scanned the room, finally meeting his own.
He could sense the cat's thoughts. They were made up not of words, but of feelings and images. The thoughts he could sense now were imperious, but filled with curiosity. He sent imploring thoughts back, asking the cat for help. In return, he got only disinterest as the cat began to wash himself.
In desperation, he sent Crookshanks an image of the rat, colouring it with feelings of sneakiness and danger. That got the cat's attention. It sent back an image of the rat in Ron's hands, with a delicate inflection of feeling that clearly made it a question. Sirius blinked in agreement, and sent again the image and feeling of Bad Rat.
Crookshanks rose and stretched, then deliberately approached Sirius, settling again much closer, though not quite touching the dog. The gesture was unmistakable.
Tell me more, it said.
It had taken a while, and been a frustrating process in places, but in the end, he and the cat had reached an understanding. Crookshanks had already known the rat was no good, and was pleased at having been proved right. He had agreed to bring it to Sirius alive, if he was able. He had also agreed to try and find a way to get Sirius into Gryffindor tower. That had been trickier to explain. The cat had no concept of "password", and it had taken several repetitions of the image of the Fat Lady's portrait, and students speaking to it, in order to make Crookshanks understand.
It has been simpler explaining about how to Owl Order a broomstick from the post office in Hogsmeade. He had only needed to indicate that he wanted the cat to deliver a message to the building in the village which smelled of owls.
Sirius lay on the grass in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, pleased with his own success. He now had an ally inside the castle - inside Gryffindor tower itself - close enough to Harry to keep watch when he himself could not. He felt more relaxed than he had since his escape from Azkaban. The problem of Peter was as good as dealt with.
But he had a new problem now. Winter was coming on swiftly, and tempting as the idea was, he knew he could not spend all of it in the cozy warmth of Hagrid's hut. He needed a safe place in which he could be human from time to time.
The Shrieking Shack was really the only option. It would not be terribly warm this time of year, especially with no wand to light a fire, nor extra clothes, nor any of the odds and ends Muggles used to keep warm, but at least it would be shelter. He could go there and be human for a while and work on Remus's Christmas present.