Padfoot's Twelve Days of Christmas
Onto Day Eleven! Almost there, as they say in the business. The process of writing this has been a little more difficult than I originally anticipated. Every day sounded like a little bit of fun to begin with, and whilst I have been writing every day, meeting the deadline that is publishing has proven more arduous. The payoff however is fantastic, so without further ado, I give you day eleven. As ever, if you like it, favourite it, favourite me – I'm going to put out a fair bit this Christmas – and make sure to leave your quill mark in the Review section. Enjoy!
Day Eleven
On The Eleventh Day of Christmas, Harry Potter Gave to Me… Eleven Golden Snitches!
Fugitive. The harsh reality bit into him colder than any chill could. Sirius Black was a wanted man across the entire Wizarding community in Britain. His time in Azkaban had done nothing to dull the ache he felt at that. The time he spent there for a crime he didn't even commit. Somewhere, still living, was the true perpetrator, the traitor Peter Pettigrew. A man he had once considered as friend, now servant to the most evil Wizard alive, a good man turned into a murderer and a liar. It made his blood boil that one of the four Marauders would dare to betray one another. Peter was supposed to be a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors damn well didn't sell each other out!
He shuffled around the cave he now called home, adding another copy of the Daily Prophet to the pile he had been collecting. More grim news, if you knew where to read and how to look at what wasn't reported, and Sirius Black knew where to read. It all pointed to one, inescapable, devastating conclusion. He needed to be near to his Godson, but the Dementors could smell him if he dared get too close for too long, and he didn't fancy getting a Kiss anytime soon.
The one surprise he still had left was his Animagus form. The shaggy black dog had charmed the residents of Hogsmeade, and they now regarded him as a lovable stray. The food had helped put some meat back on his bones, and the odd scratch behind his ears made his tail wag. He was still far from content though. The supplies from Dumbledore and the kindness of Hogsmeade, however generous they were, just wasn't enough. He hadn't seen a wand in a long time, and without magic, things were ten times as hard. The cave was a harsh place to be in winter. His solace was that his Godson, Harry Potter, was safe within the walls of the school.
In the corner was the one possession he had managed to acquire, via mail order owl. It was a gift, and had cost him every Galleon he had. Carefully wrapped in plain brown paper sat a top-of-the-range broomstick, the Firebolt. He only hoped that Harry would like it. Turning back into the great dog, he curled up behind a rock, using the fur as a natural blanket, and fell into a fitful sleep.
A faint buzzing sound brought Sirius awake. His hind leg twitched in reflex as he roused, ears pricked and searching for the source. He looked to the ceiling and counted ten, no, eleven shiny things flitting about. He shook his jowls and transformed into his human self. Pain lanced down his legs, and he realised that the sleep had given him a huge case of cramp. The buzzing grew louder, and he looked up to see exactly what they were. Eleven Golden Snitches. They hugged the roof, flying in unison, forming the words MERRY CHRISTMAS PADFOOT with brilliant golden trails. They then gently floated down to varying heights, and hung themselves on a Christmas tree that had just sprung from the ground. As the branches grew thick green spines, a note unfurled from the snitch on top of the tree. Sirius picked it out and unrolled it.
Sirius,
Thought your place could use a little Christmas cheer. The snitches you see are all ones I have caught as Seeker for Gryffindor. They mean a lot to me, treat them well. Hermione helped me with the spellwork, but you probably already know that. I hope this Christmas is better than your last.
Your Godson,
Harry James Potter