Consequences

There was a bizarre ticking and some hustling from outside the room in which Sirius was lying, biding his time. Before opening his eyes (out of habit, perhaps, or just laziness) he tried to perceive his closest surroundings using his ears and skin only. He felt and enjoyed the ticking of what had to be a grandfather's clock and the soft pressure of the mattress below him. The whole of his back was numb, as were his upper arms and both feet. His neck, on the other hand, was wrapped into some sort of cushion, which put considerable pressure against a spot just below his carotid. This spot was itching and burning with increasing intensity now that his senses were slowly recovering and his breath flattened.

When he tried to open his eyes, Sirius realised that he was not the only person in the room. Several witches and wizards had gathered around his bed, some of them looking worried, others angry. He recognised his Transfiguration teacher only after two seconds of mistaking her emerald green robes for his new raincoat. There was a piece of cloth in the Professor's spidery hands, which was soaked with a blueish substance, and she was talking quietly to a person shielded from Sirius's view by her slender figure. Both her hands were clasping the cloth with her knuckles actually whitening, as Sirius's slowly recovering eyesight let him discover. Then, suddenly, he noticed James and Peter standing far behind their deputy headmistress. They exchanged glances when noticing that their friend had regained consciousness but hesitated to speak.

"Uh... oh... Professor Mc-"

"Silence, Potter," was the curt reply. The deputy headmistress turned towards the two boys, now presenting Sirius with an emerald green, slightly sweaty back. "I told you that I shall not hear another word from you or Mr. Pettigrew until the headmaster arrives, did I not?"

Sirius thought she sounded a bit angry.

"There will certainly," she went on, keeping her voice down with some effort, "be questions concerning yours, Mr. Black's, and Mr. Pettigrew's journey, which was more successful than we could have hoped for, admittedly, but..." she sighed, "goodness! How could you leave the castle at a time like this, putting yourself and your friends in danger, Mr. Potter? You should have known better than to let me down in such an appalling manner!"

Slightly overtaxed by the situation and her emotional outbreak Professor McGonagall sat down on a chair beside Sirius's bed, looking him in the face for the first time. He flashed her a good-natured grin.

"Morning, Professor McG."

There was a short silence in which everyone in the room stared at Sirius, who, despite the ongoing numbness in his limbs, made an attempt of pulling himself into a sitting position. The deputy headmistress let out a small gasp not unlike a cat's sneeze.

"Mr. Black!"

Sirius glanced across the room. There were two more people in it who had positioned themselves close to a small number of shelves opposite the entrance door, which precisely at this moment opened and exposed the outlines of Professor Dumbledore's slender body. Sirius's gaze fixed on him at an instant. For a moment, he wondered if the other two (Professor Fumes and a young soldier whose face was covered under a bunch of straw blonde hair) had nothing better to do than wait and hear what was going to happen next. Sirius stopped and considered. What had happened back in the kidnappers' vaults?

Dumbledore remained in the doorframe for a moment, glancing around at everyone, then turned to Sirius and took a few steps towards him.

"Young Mr. Black is up and well again, I notice," he said smilingly. Sirius could have sworn he detected a twinkle in the old man's blue eyes and went for a small, welcoming grin.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said reluctantly. "What is going on?"

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall spurted out, "You took on a fully grown werewolf all by yourself..."

"And survived, Minerva," interrupted the headmaster quietly, "I am sure the boy will be happy to explain exactly what happened."

"Where am I?" asked Sirius after a moment's silence that had provided some time for him to consider his next step. "Is this Hogwarts?"

"McGillivray Manor," replied the headmaster earnestly. "As you seemed badly hurt, Professor McGonagall suggested to take you to the closest possible destination with continuous access to St. Mungo's hospital. It seems your neck has suffered from the magical surge caused by the door's explosion. Mr. Lupin's claws and teeth, on the other hand, hardly seem to have any marks left. Can you imagine why that might be?"

Sirius remembered. The werewolf. The screams.

"Where is Balbina?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Is she all right?"

"I am afraid Miss Cuncytaw is better than we all would have wished her to be," said Professor Dumbledore quietly. "She died as a result of the attack. Werewolves are quite precise in their- Mr. Black," he suddenly interrupted himself, sounding much graver than before, his eyes pointing at Sirius, who felt as though he was being x-rayed, "I would very much like to learn how you evaded being bitten, seeing as Mr. Lupin did not seem to have touched you at all, in spite of you spending a considerable amount of time in his presence..."

Sirius was not listening. Balbina dead? Their friend slaughtered by whatever it was that took hold of Remus once each month - just like that? He looked back into the headmaster's earnest eyes and images started appearing in his head. Memories, which he had not even known were there. The darkness, restrained screams, Balbina... then, the werewolf. He made a sudden movement, trying to fend off an imaginary attack - and cramped.

"No!" With some force he found himself thrust back into reality. "He killed her!"

"We know as much," said Dumbledore quietly, his eyes for once not resting on Sirius's face, but on the blanket before him. "But what happened, Mr. Black? How did you escape?"

Sirius' mind was suddenly teaming with another bunch of memories: harsher ones, consisting not only of colours and sounds but also of a strange smell and a sudden feeling that his feet were giving way under the weight of his body. There had been light everywhere - red light - and a werewolf at his throat...

"He did not attack me," Sirius said bluntly. "He is my friend."

"That is ridiculous!" prompted Professor McGonagall, losing impatience. "Werewolves lose their mind during transfiguration, they..."

"He did not attack him," he headmaster suddenly said to everyone's, but especially Sirius's great surprise. "You heard the boy. I thank you, Mr. Black. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

Sirius stared at him. Incredulous that he was getting away with such a lie. His forehead felt sweaty all of a sudden. There was more, he suddenly remembered, a tight feeling in his throat, for instance - and hair growing on every part of his prickling skin.

"Remus," he eventually said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What about Remus?"

"Your friend is physically well," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "His parents are currently with him."

"He is alive?" Sirius asked breathlessly. The sight of his Transfiguration Professor conjured another memory - a less focussed one. James and Peter had not run. They had remained inside the vault, though at a slight distance, hurling random spells at the attacking werewolf. They had seen - they must have observed everything, including his own... had it been a transformation?

And then people had arrived. Soldiers, but also Professor McGonagall, whose first reaction had been to grab both, Peter's and James's collars, and pull them out of the hazard zone. Sirius shot her a thankful look.

"Thank you, Professor," he said. "For coming to our rescue."

The deputy headmistress seemed taken aback. "Well, you... will have to thank the wizarding army," she said brusquely after a while. "If it had not been for Colonel Lance Snape, we might not have found you at all... or the exit to Mull."

"The what?" Sirius threw a questioning look at the two teachers, then at his friends, who seemed to be bursting with the need to give him a proper explanation.

"The entrance to The Forest, which the Knights have been using to plan and execute their attacks," said the headmaster quietly. "You discovered it, apparently by random, and Robertson here was able to track you down up there. Thus, we now know where the Knights' basement has been - and where the other children were hidden all this time."

"The others," Sirius was fully alert again now. "Are they all right?"

"All but one survived the incident," said the headmaster quietly. "All but Balbina made it out of the vaults. Those responsible have been caught and are currently facing trial."

"Wow," said Sirius, and then nothing for some time. "Wow. But that means... that means we saved the day, doesn't it?"

At this, Professor McGonagall's square glasses fell off her nose and she started shaking.

"You will have other things to worry about soon than 'saving the day'," said a growling voice from next to the door. Fumes had decided to take part of the conversation. "Foolish boy. Success never justifies the breaking of rules. You will have to face the consequences of your actions, however lucky you might have been in the execution of your ridiculous..."

"That will be enough, Alexander," Dumbledore said rather sharply. "I am sure the Ministry will not insist on a hearing as far as these boys are concerned. Their cause concerns the activities of the Knights only marginally."

"I am not talking about the Ministry of Magic," Fumes replied. "But the boys need to be disciplined. Their education has completely run out of the rudder, if you'll excuse an old mariner's language. What are you planning to do about that?"

Dumbledore seemed reluctant, if just for a moment.

"The regulations will have to be observed, of course," he said as politely as possible, "Still, I daresay that recent events have been punishment enough..."

"The school rules demand a thrashing," said Fumes triumphantly, side-glancing at Sirius, who gave him no chance of catching him with a shocked or terrified expression. "No time for favouritism now, Dumbledore. You owe this to the girl's parents. The rules demand..."

"The rules will have to be changed," Dumbledore said suddenly. "I am not having the Ministry's meddlesome hand within Hogwarts walls any longer, Alexander. It seems quite obvious to me that the seventh article of our constitution is flouted if politicians keep interfering with our educational system. We shall devise a change of the school rules during the holidays, Alexander. We - that is, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and myself - will sit together in summer and effect a few overall changes, starting with the abandonment of the old punishments. We shall also have to re-evaluate in how far the Minister for Magic needs to be informed of the exact proceedings of the final examinations. But," he cast a short glance at Sirius and his friends, "I suggest we better discuss this in private."

There was a short silence. Fumes seemed to weigh his chances.

"I take it," he said, "that these changes will nevertheless be effected before next year's September?"

Dumbledore sighed. For a moment, Sirius thought he was going to contradict, but the headmaster did nothing of that sort. He turned towards the door. "I am afraid so," he replied, not meeting anyone's gaze now. "This, for once, is a rule that ought to be observed. Out of respect for Bagnold's Educational Act of a few decades ago. Please join me in my office this evening, Alexander. You too, Minerva," he said after a moment's consideration. "And young Robertson. As for now, it might be a good idea to leave the boys for themselves. They will want to discuss matters in private."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I take it young Black is excused for classes until Christmas?"

"Yes," said the headmaster pensively. "Would you mind contacting his parents and effecting his transfer back to their house as soon as his head has sufficiently healed?"

"Not at all," said the deputy headmistress quietly. Sirius could not help feeling he was treated like some kind of package being made ready for shipping.

"Am I to stay here then?" he asked. "What is this place?"

"Oh," said Professor McGonagall tersely, "it is my parents' house. You will be quite safe for the duration of your stay, unless you count the occasional Viking invasion."

Sirius stared, but decided not to ask.

James, he noted when the grown-ups had left a little while later and the three of them were given a precious hour of time for a chat, had some talent for telling stories in an interesting way.

It was true that he and Peter had been taken away from the place of interest as soon as McGonagall had arrived, and it was also true that apart from Balbina no one had taken any major harm from being kidnapped by a bunch of lunatics, but judging from their faces, Sirius had long concluded that this was not all that had come out of the last evening's proceedings.

"You should have seen yourself," narrated James, the words floating out of his mouth as though he had prepared to give a speech. "Leaping at Remus as though he didn't have any teeth at all. And then, more magic - we must have inflamed the whole room with it. Your body was shaking like mad and hair started sprouting from your neck and hands. Your robes... it was as though they were transforming into some kind of fur - including the scarf, mind you! Your neck and back had this weird yellow and red stripe..."

"You were glowing all over," Peter added. "And Remus suddenly calmed down. Instead of trying to bite you he was sniffing and... well, and James thinks he was also... you know..." He made a rude gesture.

"Did not!" James stormed.

"Did!"

"Did not! That was just... a joke."

There was a short silence. Sirius held his breath, but after five seconds broke into a helpless fit of laughter. "That's just gross!"

"You did look a bit like him," James said apologetically. "Almost like a wolf, just darker. It was scary. We thought you were transforming into one straight away cause he bit you or anything."

"He didn't," said Sirius quietly. "But... but I think I did my first... well... incomplete transformation."

There was another silence.

"Incredible," whispered Peter.

"Ingenious," grinned James, clapping his best friend on his back. "Well done, Padfoot. You are going to be a wolf, just like Remus. Who would have thought?"

They laughed quietly some more, then fell silent again.

"They found no more than five or six of the actual Knights strolling about," James eventually said, sounding a bit grumpy. "Obviously. That's what the spells were for. The whole army stormed into the vault before we knew and one of them - probably Robertson - triggered an alarm. The rest was a question of time. The soldiers got hold of a few on the beach, trying to leave the isle by boat." He laughed shortly. "The others had gone. Mull isn't a place where you can easily disapparate," he explained to a puzzled-looking Peter. "Weather conditions."

Sirius did not ask how James knew this.

"What is happening now?" he said instead. "Will there actually be a thrashing?"

"You heard Fumes," replied James grumpily. "He has been looking for a reason to get back on us all year. I don't think he'll stop now that he's reached his goal. Granted - we did go a bit far this time."

"In the literal sense," Sirius grinned. "But we'll see. There is always Professor McGonagall..."

"Professor McGonagall cannot go against the school rules. I expected Dumbledore might, but he seems concerned about the general situation rather than about our specific case." James shook his head and shrugged. "I also cannot shake off the feeling that he thinks we deserve a punishment for what we did."

"But Remus lives!" Sirius blurted. "It's not fair - we made everything all right, well except for Balbina, o'course, but that wasn't our fault! She would have died anyway..."

At this point, Peter sniffed loudly and turned his head towards his overlarge tummy. "She'll never come back," he said sadly, blinking away what looked suspiciously like upcoming tears. "Who says it isn't our fault? Fumes says if we hadn't blasted that door..."

"Fumes also says that Gryffindors are worth nothing but their flesh and bones' value in Sickles," James snarled. "This man's opinion is worth a Snape's shit, Pete. He only ever talks a load of Slytherin rubbish. We ought to ignore him, really."

"But I am afraid of the thrashing vault!" whined Peter. "However pathetic you might consider that, James! I don't fancy being beaten!"

"Ts." James rolled his eyes. "Coward."

Sirius gave him an incredulous look. "You're not a bit scared?" he asked his best friend while trying to change to a more comfortable position.

"Ts," said James again. "Of course not. Piece of cake."

Sirius gave him a doubtful look. He liked James's recklessness sometimes, but also knew that it often derived from a lack of awareness of what lay ahead.

"You... do know what it's feels like, though?" he said. "I mean, you have been beaten?"

James screwed up his face. "Course not," he said loftily. "MY parents love me."

There was a short and nasty silence.

"I see," said Sirius icily, looking James up and down with an expression of conscious dislike. "Thanks for that, Potter!"

James frowned. He pulled a grimace at first as though to convey his indignation, but then gave Sirius an incredulous look as the meaning of his friend's words suddenly began to dawn on him. "You?" he eventually managed - nothing more. Sirius shrugged.

"Sure," he said. "Loads. Like Pete here. Like everyone. You're lucky enough not to be growing up in a proper pureblood house, but..."

"And exactly what is that supposed to mean!"

"Calm down," said Sirius loftily. "You know what I mean. Seriously, ts." He decided to change the subject for the sake of peace. "Get it?" he said, making both, Peter and James roll their eyes and glare at him with old, well-established impatience, "Seriously."