Eyes like molten gold. Toying with his prey. Sirius should have known - should have realised. Somehow, in all the excitement, he had managed to forget that tonight was the full moon, and apparently, so had Remus.
Without hesitation, Sirius transformed and flung himself at the great, snarling wolf. In the presence of the children, the wolf would think of nothing save prey - the hunt and the kill. It was up to Sirius to draw him off long enough for Harry and his friends to make an escape.
Heedless of the fact that the wolf was both larger and stronger, he clamped his jaws about its neck and wrenched it backward. The wolf turned on him, snarling, teeth bared, and they were at each other's throats, ripping, tearing, snarling, growling. Sirius barely felt the werewolf's teeth and claws sinking into his flesh. All he knew was that he must keep fighting - survive if he could, yes, but that was not as important as saving Harry.
The wolf threw him off, and Sirius landed hard of his back, knocked breathless by the impact. It was over. The wolf would go for his exposed throat, and tear it out before he had a chance to recover.
But instead, the great, gray beast paused, scenting the air, long muzzle pointed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Surreptitiously, Sirius turned himself over and tensed, ready to spring in whatever direction seemed likely to do the most good. But the wolf did not return to the fight, nor did it throw itself upon the children. It raised its head, and gave a spine-chilling howl that reverberated in that buried subconscious all living creatures possess, which knows itself to be prey. And then the beast turned, all gray shadows and silver moonlight, and loped off into the trees.
Why? More prey?
Who would be abroad in the forest so late at night? But then he remembered the other Harry and Hermione he had seen, and a chill washed over him. The night had still more mysteries to reveal, but now was not the time to ask questions.
Harry's frantic voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!"
Sirius rose, cursing mentally, shook himself, and set off in the direction Harry had indicated. The boy was right; finding the rat was just as important as the wolf. Without Peter, how could he hope to clear his name with the Ministry? He must find the rat if he could, and hope that, whatever it was the werewolf had scented, was armed and knew how to climb trees.
He galloped across the moonlit castle grounds, blindly following the faint scent of rodent fear hanging on the chilly night air. The air grew colder and colder as he approached the lake, and he was dimly aware of the crunch of frost beneath his paws, but there was no time to think of that. He must find Peter before it was too late, before he escaped, before -
Sirius skidded to a halt. Lying, half-submerged on the shore of the lake, empty eyes staring up into the face of the full moon, lay the body of Remus Lupin. Sirius yelped and shifted form, scrambling on hands and knees toward the still, pale figure.
No! his mind insisted. No, it can't be! It can't! It's the full moon!
Even if Remus were to die tonight, his body would remain wolf-shaped until moonset. But Sirius's silent denials did not make the apparition any less real. He reached a hand out to touch the face, so beloved - to gather the body into his arms - but his hand passed through the pale flesh as though it were mist, and as he looked up, he saw them standing all around him.
At first, he thought he knew them by their faces - dead friends and disapproving family, cold eyes filled with judgment - but then he saw that these were merely shadows. Dozens of forms surrounded him, with more drifting in all the time. Black cloaked, cold and deadly, the breath rattling beneath their hoods. The Dementors of Azkaban had caught up with him at last.
"Nooo," he begged his merciless captors. "Noooo - please -"
But he knew it was hopeless. Their trap had been neatly laid, and he was caught. He tried desperately to remember how to change, but Padfoot had left him. He was alone, wandless, and completely at the mercy of beings who had none. He could feel their exultation as they drained away all the feelings of triumph and relief and joy that had possessed him tonight. All was lost. It was too late. Dark spots swam before his eyes, as cold breath caressed his cheek, and he knew no more.
Voices raised in argument. He could hear them, but could make no sense of what they were saying. Then he heard his name, Black, and the names Lupin and Potter. What had happened? Had a prank gone wrong? He lay on hard stone, his hands bound tightly behind him, a gag tied hard between his teeth. His body throbbed painfully in at least a dozen places And then he heard another word he recognised. Dementors.
Dementors - dozens of them - crowding close around him, and the phantom of Remus's death laid out before him in the moonlight.
He must have made some involuntary movement at the memory, for one of the voices nearby said, "It looks like he's waking up. Shall I stun him again, Headmaster?"
"That won't be necessary, Severus," replied another voice, gentle but firm. "I'm quite certain we are in no danger for the moment. Black is already bound and unarmed."
Sirius kept his eyes closed. He had no wish to see the expression of sneering victory on Snape's face. It was enough to hear it in the man's voice.
"I wish you'd have let take him to my office instead, Headmaster," he was saying. "The lies he's been spewing - I want to hear him confess before the Dementors have him. I happen to have a bottle of Veritaserum which I think should do the trick."
"Do you really?" said a third voice. "How fascinating! I've never seen it used. The Ministry has very strict guidelines regarding its application, of course. But I think that, under the circumstances, you're quite right. We should really have a confession before the Kiss is performed. For form's sake, you know."
"Severus," said Dumbledore, "if you and the Minister would be so kind, I would prefer you to visit the hospital wing. See how the children are faring, and bring back some of that lovely soothing ointment Poppy makes. You might also want her to have a look at that cut, Severus. It looks painful."
Fudge gasped. "You're not actually going to - to - tend Black's wounds, surely Headmaster?" There was horror and revulsion in his voice.
"Indeed, I intend to, Minister. I am headmaster of this school, and as such, have the authority to say how those within its walls shall be treated, even prisoners. Once the Dementors arrive, I shall not stand in their way, Minister, but until that time, please allow me to do with this man as I see fit. And now, I want a word with him, if the two of you will give us a moment of privacy?"
Some outraged spluttering from the Minister followed, but Snape only said icily, "As you wish, Headmaster. Minister, if you would care to accompany me?"
Sirius heard a door open and close. For a moment, there was silence, then Sirius dared to open his eyes. Albus Dumbledore was looking down at him, wearing a speculative expression. Then the old man sighed, clapped his hands sharply once, and Sirius's bonds fell away. Sirius was so startled that he could do nothing but continue to lie on the floor, staring up at the headmaster.
At last, he said in a very hoarse voice, "Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I was hoping you might share a drink with me first, and perhaps enlighten me on one or two points. If you wish to kill me afterwards, I shall worry about it then." He turned away and bent to open a low cabinet, out of which he drew a bottle a two small glasses.
When he turned back, Sirius was still lying on the floor. "I think you'll find the chairs rather more comfortable, if small."
Sirius awkwardly rose to his feet and rubbed a couple tender places, looking around the room for the first time. Now that he was standing, he noticed the oddness of the furnishings; everything in the room was small or low to the ground.
"Where are we?" he asked in puzzlement.
"We are in the office of Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms master of this school. I think you will remember him? Short chap. Easily levitated. But I seem to recall he took it well."
There was the twinkle again. Clearly, the headmaster remembered one or two of the Marauders' schoolboy pranks. Sirius squeezed himself into a chair while Dumbledore poured out a measure of firewhiskey for each of them.
"Why?" he asked. "Why here, I mean? I would have thought your office, or Snape's."
Dumbledore smiled, passing Sirius a glass. "Professor Snape and the Minister would not hear of your being brought to my office. Too many important objects you might damage. For the sake of their peace of mind, I agreed. As to the other, well, I exerted my not inconsiderable influence and had you brought here instead. No windows in the dungeons, you see."
Sirius did not see at all, but it was true that this room had a couple of narrow windows through which the pale face of the full moon could be seen.
"Sirius." Dumbledore drew his mind back from where it roamed the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. "Sirius, there are things you must tell me, and quickly. It won't be long before they bring the Dementors into my school."
Sirius heard the edge in the headmaster's voice.
"What do you want to know, Headmaster? I can only tell you the same story you didn't believe thirteen years ago."
Dumbledore did not look away. Sirius felt his blue eyes searching the depths of his soul.
"Tell it," he said.
So Sirius did. All of it, from the beginning. The Animagus transformation, and the love and friendship behind it, the years of joy followed by mistrust and suspicion, the Secret-Keeper switch, Peter's betrayal and framing of Sirius in the Muggle marketplace, Azkaban and its horrors, and Sirius's own feelings of guilt, his escape and the reason for it - here he drew out a ragged and much-creased sheet of newsprint - his coming to Hogwarts, the attempts during the year to find Peter before it was too late, the climactic events of the evening, and the escape of the rat into night.
"But they've seen him," he finished. "Harry and his friends. And Remus. They've all seen him. They'll tell you." He tilted his head back for a last swallow of firewhiskey.
Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "I imagine they will," he said at last.
Sirius blinked. "You believe me, then?"
"Too many things did not fit," the headmaster said, shaking his head tiredly. "At the time, I could not believe you had done it, but I also did not see how you could not have. If it is as you say - Show me your Animagus form."
Sirius transformed briefly into Padfoot, and back again.
Dumbledore nodded. "To become an Animagus requires a great deal of dedication. The animal form is not chosen at random or by the wizard, but reflects deep qualities he possesses. James Potter as the proud stag, Prongs - now I understand Harry's Patronus. Peter the rat, hiding and seeking only to save himself. And a great, black dog; fiercely loyal in love and friendship, and blind to the faults of his friends. You could not lie to me if you wished to. I see that now."
Sirius's heart was pounding. His palms were sweating as he gripped the empty glass. Dumbledore believed him. Dumbledore would convince the Ministry of his innocence. Even without Peter -
"But Sir, if you didn't know I was innocent until I told you just now, then why did you untie me? Why did you want to talk to me?"
Dumbledore gave him a long look. "On the night of February the fifth of this year, you found your way into Gryffindor tower, entered a specific dormitory room in the dark, and stood over a bed with a raised knife."
"And that proved my innocence to you, did it?" Sirius said skeptically.
"You made certain you had the right room. Surely before raising the knife, you would also have made certain you had the right bed, if you meant to kill Harry. And if you meant to kill indiscriminately, you would not have hesitated, then fled when Ronald Weasley raised the alarm. Those actions make no sense for a deranged killer - if one can speak of sense and deranged killers in the same breath." He smiled at Sirius. "I knew then that something did not add up. Also, I trust Remus Lupin."
"What?" Sirius was startled by the sudden change of topic.
"Remus loved you," explained Dumbledore. "He probably still does. But he loves Harry, too. If he had rushed to the Shrieking Shack tonight in order to save Harry and his friends from you, I do not think he would have hesitated to overpower you and bring you to me. Over an hour and a half elapsed between the time I saw him leave the school and the time Professor Snape returned with his unconscious entourage."
"Don't assume he didn't try to overpower me," Sirius said wryly, holding up an arm bearing three long scratch marks, visible through the tattered and bloody sleeve.
The twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes. "Dogs are not the natural prey of the werewolf. I am certain they prefer the tender flesh of young humans. You must have - gotten in the way?" he suggested, eyebrows raised.
Sirius lowered his eyes. "He would have killed them all," he said softly.
"And if Sirius Black does not want Harry Potter dead, then the Ministry's entire case falls apart," Dumbledore concluded. "You are innocent."
Sirius felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said humbly.
Dumbledore smiled. "Since you are no longer my student, nor yet a deranged murderer, you may call me 'Albus', as my other friends do."
Sirius nodded. "I'll do that, then - Albus."
The name felt strange in his mouth, unbracketed by the words "headmaster" and "Dumbledore". He looked up into blue eyes filled with wisdom and kindness.
"What must I do now?" he asked. "You won't really let the Dementors have me, will you?" He shuddered at the thought.
Dumbledore glanced out the window, as if gauging the time by the position of the moon.
"No," he said at last. "You must just wait here. I will go and exercise my considerable influence once again. I'll see if I can't get us a little more time."
Time did indeed seem to slow to a crawl once the headmaster had taken his leave, locking the door carefully behind him. Sirius paced the tiny room like a caged beast awaiting the arena and death on a gladiator's spear.
Dumbledore would not let the Dementors have him. He believed Sirius. He had said so. He would never stand by and let an innocent man suffer such a terrible fate. Sirius tried to remain calm and have faith in the old man, but he did not see what power Dumbledore had to save him now, and life had played too many horrible tricks on him already for him to trust much in anyone or anything.
Except Remus. Remus would save him, if he could. If he were not at this moment roaming the Forbidden Forest, a mindless beast snapping at shadows.
Sirius poured himself another dram of firewhiskey and tossed it back, hoping to settle his nerves.
Maybe you don't notice when they Kiss you, if you're dead drunk.
Somehow, he doubted it. Unless one was dead, he did not see how it would be possible not to notice losing one's soul.
Another shot of firewhiskey, and he was pacing again, walking to and fro, trying to formulate a plan, even though he had no bloody idea what was going to happen to him.
Could he duck out past them when the door opened? No. They would have their wands out and ready, and the Dementors would not be far behind. Out the window? No, he must be well over fifty feet above the ground here, with nothing to break his fall. Even his Animagus form was useless to him now.
He sank back into the too-small chair, looking down at his hands, remembering the feel of holding a wand again. If only he had one now.
A sudden, sharp sound from behind made him jump and spin around. His jaw dropped in shock. Hanging outside the window, in midair, were the pale but smiling faces of Harry and his friend Hermione, and fierce, orange eyes of Buckbeak the Hippogriff.
He rushed to the window and tried to wrestle it open, but it was firmly locked.
"Stand back!" he heard Hermione's voice, muffled through the glass, as she drew her wand, one arm maintaining a death grip on Harry's robes. "Alohomora!" she cried, and the catch leapt aside, allowing the window to slide open easily.
"How - how -?" Sirius mouthed uncomprehendingly, staring at Hagrid's erstwhile pet.
"Get on!" Harry shouted. "There's not much time. You've got to get out of here - the Dementors are coming. McNair's gone to get them."
Recovering quickly from the shock of his rescuers' sudden appearance, Sirius squeezed himself through the frame of the narrow window. He threw a leg over the Hippogriff's back, and perforce laid a steadying hand on Hermione's waist, but she seemed untroubled by this familiarity.
"Okay, Buckbeak, up!" Harry cried. "Up to the tower - come on!"
With a great downward sweep of gray wings, they leapt into the air, and a moment later, alighted with a clatter of claws and hooves at the top of the West Tower of the castle. Harry and Hermione dismounted and turned to Sirius, who was fumbling for the rope which served as a rein.
"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," Harry said breathlessly. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you've gone."
"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" Sirius asked.
He was sure Dumbledore would have mentioned if any of the children had been seriously harmed, either by the Dementors or by Remus in his current state, but he could not leave without being sure.
"He's going to be okay," Harry assured him. "He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick - go!"
"How can I ever thank -" Sirius began, a lump rising in his throat for these brave children - for this son of his best friend - who had risked all for him tonight, and believed.
But they shouted, "GO!" and he knew they were right.
"We'll see each other again," he promised with a smile. "You are - truly your father's son, Harry -"
He tightened his grip on the Hippogriff's sides, and the great beast rose swiftly into the air, moonlight glinting silver off its wings. As the moon hid its face behind the clouds, he reined Buckbeak in, and swooped low over the Forbidden Forest. He still had one more goodbye to say.