Not long after that, O'Della Who's Plumper Than Most and Filled Him With Toast passed away in her sleep. He had to move out before he got accused of anything unsavory. He left in the night, basically emptying her fridge and pantry of anything he could take. It took several trips and no one really watched for marauders at no soul's hour in one of the northernmost shires of Scotland. At one point he even got tired of bringing the things in loads, so he enlisted Buckbeak's help and they made off like how bandits in some desert country will make off with saddlebags on their camels. Except it was just him and the hippogryph and there were no saddlebags, only old white sheets with blue anchor print tied around the beast's wings like the world's largest hobo knapsack. The flowstones deep in Smoo Cave made for wonderful shelves and he turned their netherworld into a homey little place. The scissors and the rest of the toiletries were last-minute add-ons, as was the money she had sown into most of the drapes and quilts - galleons and quid alike. They did not last - he lost the scissors quite quickly.

A few days later, he watched with the teenage girl (who now donned a different obscure band on her screenprinted t-shirt) as the non-magical folk hosted a wake and then auctioned off O'Della's possessions, most of which they recognized, but some of which had to be confiscated by the Ministry of Magic. Sirius had tensed as he watched the ministry folk clean out old trinkets from Diagon Alley and whatnot. Two of the understudies even came into the Visit Scotland shop and Sirius turned toward the brochures as the wizards asked to use the loo.

That night, in the depth of his despair for having lost O'Della, a twerp of an owl landed all jittery on a nearby stalagmite. He untied the note and read about how the boy had solved the dragon problem without him. And with his broom of all things. That's exactly what James would have done. Sirius had planned on teaching him how to shrink the thing down to size, but the trick with the broom... that was almost genius. Almost too smart for him. He wondered who had been so kind as to help Harry.

He wrote back:

Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point but your way was better, I'm impressed. Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open - particularly when the person we discussed is around - and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

The letter he attached to the talon of the fidgety bird. It seemed insufficient, though. He decided to spend a bit of money, take a risk, and get the kid something special for Christmas. It took awhile to remember the store and to prepare for the journey.

He wanted to Apparate south enough that he could get into a store, but if the Ministry could track underage wizards, it could certainly track his Apparations. So he sprinted as a dog through the countryside. When he arrived, and he saw, outside the Best Made store, the wanted posters with his face on it, he felt it again. Unwelcome in his own country. Maybe his own country was just a place in his mind. So he broke into the back door and looked around. They had all manner of camping tools. He wanted the boy to have something functional in case he got into trouble. And he found the kind of knife that had once gotten him out from under house arrest as a young man. It had dozens of attachments that would unlock any lock and undo any knot. He got two of them: one for himself and one for Harry. He then left some of the money he'd nicked from O'Della on the counter and tipped very well. Somewhere, an Intruder Herald went off and started describing his physical attributes loud as a fog horn so he ran back to the north, knives in his teeth, again wishing he could Disapparate. He the package to a new owl, which left in the morning.

Weeks passed and the food ran out and he grew very, very hungry.

Awhile later, he received a brown owl telling him of how Barty Crouch had broken into Severus' office, which made no sense, as well as Old Mad Eye and Severus talking about Severus' Death Eater tatoo - typical banter between them, he supposed. Unless, of course, Severus had truly put Harry's name in the goblet and was trying to bring harm to the boy. Something didn't level. Something serious was about to happen. He wrote Dumbledore, telling him what the boy had communicated.

Dumbledore's return note read:

There is another cave. A fissure by Hogsmeade.

Enclosed was a hand-drawn map with some of Dumbledore's special ink meant only for the receiver: it looked black with flecks of gold. The map showed the way to the fissure.

He decided to risk it and get closer to Hogsmeade. At least he could see the boy and feel welcome. And maybe find some food - hardly anything lived in Smoo. He wrote Harry: Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl and sent the brown owl on its way. It came back rather quickly with the dates. The owl tried to fly away again and it fought back, so he punched it and forced it to the ground while he jotted down Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock Saturday afternoon. He didn't feel bad about punching it either - it was there to do its job. Of course, he didn't much like when people kicked him as a dog, so there was that. His stomach growled long and low. He thought of growling back at it. He'd long eaten clean through O'Della's store. Bring as much food as you can.

When the time came, Sirius left the north with Buckbeak and worked back into a secondary cave, this fissure in the mountain. There he tied Buckbeak and left again. After searching Hogsmeade for awhile, he determined it was pointless to risk it. He faked like a stray, then, and began to eat scraps out of the trash while trying to attract as much love as possible from the locals.

It was then, there in the fissure, they began truly to live off of rats.

On November 22nd, he showed up as dog at that very stile at the end of a winding lane there in the shadow of the mountain. He had newspapers in his mouth.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry Potter said as he approached.