Chapter 3

Sirius had always wanted to visit Brazil. His parents had never agreed to go on vacation to a third world country, however. When he had ran away from home, Mr. and Mrs. Potter had promised to take them sometime, but they had died before they could make good on their promise. And then the war had gotten ugly, and Lily and James had died too, and then Azkaban...

Locked in his dark, cold cell, he hadn't even been able to imagine the sun, much less to remember how it felt to be warm.

Now he was here, in Brazil, but everything still felt cold and dark. Not all the time, but often enough. Like at this moment. It was the middle of the day, the sun was blazing, the sand burning, Muggle kids laughed and played all around —once in a while bouncing against his Muggle-repelling ward—, and yet... The bright colours looked paler and colder by the second, as if a cloud had blocked the sun, only there weren't any clouds in the sky. It was as if there was something wrong with his eyes, or with his heart.

It's my mind, he thought grimly. They will always be there, turning everything grey.

He deserved it, of course. For getting James and Lily killed. For going after Peter instead of staying with baby Harry. For mistrusting Remus. Remus... He had been alone for so long! How many full moons had he had to transform without company? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? And all the while thinking Sirius a traitor and a murderer. Shunned by wizarding society, without friends... No doubt he had tried to get custody over Harry, but of course a werewolf would never be allowed to raise a kid. Remus, the best person in existence. How could Sirius have doubted him? James had also doubted, yes, but it had been Sirius the one to insist on using Peter instead of Remus. Lily had cried a lot that day, and she had refused to believe that Remus could be a traitor. How could she have trusted him better than his own friends? Shame!

And Harry... the kid was the spitting image of James, except for the eyes, and so good... He wished he could have raised him and take him to Brazil on holidays. Sirius would have done a terrible job raising a kid alone, but maybe Remus would have helped him, and the three of them would have been happier together than they had been by themselves. Instead Sirius had ruined everything by landing himself in jail and not even trying to escape before. He had left Harry to be raised by Muggles. By Petunia, of all people! Lily would smack him senseless if she were alive to smack anyone. And James would be so disappointed! They had both trusted him to raise their son if something happened to them, and he had failed them...

He had failed everyone, and now he was on the run like a bloody coward. And he was too messed up to be of help to anyone. And it was too late to fix things, and to fix himself. Nothing would ever be bright again, he would never get back what he had lost...

He realized what was happening just in time to change to his Animagus form before the repelling ward failed. Pathetic. A thirty-four year old wizard unable to keep up the simplest ward. A grown man too afraid of his human feelings.

Everything was easier as a dog, less hard. The feelings weren't so sharp, the despair not so deep.

And once in a while, he got to be petted.

Like now. Two Muggle kids had spotted him, lying in the sand under a palm tree, and were gingerly approaching. Sirius rolled on his back and moved his tail to present a less frightening image, and just as he had hoped the kids finally gathered the courage to come closer and touch him. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation better. It felt so nice to be touched! Kids' caresses were clumsy, but he appreciated them anyway. He was even beginning to feel warm again. The world couldn't be such a bad place if there were still kids playing around, right? And it was sunny here, Dementors wouldn't come this far south, right? He might have lost everything, but there were still bright things in the world. Things for people less broken than he to enjoy. It was too late for him, but not for Harry. And maybe not for Remus either. They still could be happy. He hoped they would.

He wished he could help them be happy, to make up for all the time he had not been there for them. But surely they were better off without him, right? What could Sirius offer them now? He had disappointed Harry by not being able to provide him with a new home. And he would only be a burden to Remus, when Remus' condition was enough burden already. Although he would wish to at least keep him company during his transformations...

He wished he could tell Lily and James how sorry he was.

The Muggle kids were saying something in incomprehensible Portuguese. Sirius waved his tail and licked their faces in response, making them laugh and exclaim in disgust. It was so easy to make kids happy! It had been this way with baby Harry. Lily had often commented that she wished to be an Animagus too so she could entertain Harry so easily when he was being difficult.

Sirius had never really liked kids before Harry, but that little menace had grown on him frighteningly quickly. It had been so nice to curl up to sleep with the baby's tiny hands grabbing his fur!

Of course, kids also quickly grew bored with things, even with such a cute dog as he told himself he was. Soon they found something else to play with, so Sirius had to choose between staying alone again or following them. He followed. And it was fun for a while, or at least distracting. Sirius chased seabirds along with them, and sniffed weird things left by the waves, he even played fetching sticks that they threw for him. It was silly and childish, yes, but it helped keep the darkness at bay after his little despairing episode.

Everything was fine until the kids began trying to capture a bird that had perched on a nearby palm tree. Sirius would have opposed that form of entertainment even if the bird had not happened to be an owl. A white owl that was staring at the kids with disdain, as if daring them to come closer.

One could hardly find a more out of place animal in a Brazilian beach, and in the middle of the day. Without a doubt this owl was here looking for Sirius. Yes, he could see a small roll of parchment tied to her leg, and now she was staring directly at him as if she knew him.

It only took him a few growls to scare away the kids. He had stopped liking them the moment they had thrown a rock at the owl. Damned kids! By the way they ran away screaming in fear, Sirius was sure that grown-ups would get involved and maybe even Muggle authorities responsible for hunting stray and dangerous dogs. He would have to find another beach tomorrow, and different kids to rub his belly.

After barking at the owl a few times, he ran towards the jungle, sure that she would follow. Around fifteen minutes later he finally reached his cave and turned back to his human form.

"We've got mail, Buck!" he said out loud. "Don't eat the owl, all right?"

Sirius could swear that the hippogriff rolled his eyes at him. He laughed. So far Buckbeak had only tried to eat the tropical birds, so Sirius assumed he had been trained to leave owls alone.

In his last letter (carefully sealed and protected by a candy password), Dumbledore had explained to him about the hippogriff and Hagrid and how Harry had saved him along with Sirius. He was still impressed by the whole thing. Harry seemed to be an odd mix of James and Lily, prone to get into trouble but for the right reasons. No doubt both James and Lily would have scolded him (one for not having enough fun and the other for being too reckless), but Sirius thought the kid was just awesome. Of course, he would have gotten the worst part of the scolding if Lily and James had known that Harry had had to risk his life —and a time paradox— to save him, when it was Sirius' job to protect Harry.

A moment later, the snowy owl glided through the cave entrance, going to perch directly on Sirius' arm.

"A bit far from home, aren't you?" he said while he retrieved the letter. "I didn't know I had any friends in the arctic."

The owl also seemed to roll her eyes at his terrible joke. Well, he had spent twelve years talking to himself or screaming his head off in a frozen hell, he could hardly be expected to have good jokes to crack. Still, this owl seemed to have a drier attitude than most. Maybe it was the snowy plumage, she must believe herself too important for silliness.

Sirius' heart jumped in excitement when he saw Harry's handwriting. Establishing correspondence with his godson hadn't been exactly easy, since they barely knew each other. Harry seemed shy with him, and with good reason. So far he had answered two of his letters, but without saying anything important. Sirius wished the kid learned to trust him, to ask for his advice, to confide in him, but he knew it would take time. On his part, he wasn't sure how to address him. There was so much he wanted to say! But godfathers were supposed to be responsible and reliable, right? It wouldn't be fair to burden the boy with all his troubles and regrets. Harry simply needed to know that his godfather was there for him. It was plain in his letters that the kid was worried about Sirius, but he shouldn't have to worry about grown-up fugitives, so Sirius kept telling him he should only worry about himself.

Most of the letter was Harry making small talk about his relatives. The tone was light, but it sounded forced, and Sirius felt concerned again.

I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.

There was something wrong with those Muggles, thought Sirius for the hundredth time. Dumbledore had told him that Harry would appreciate permission from his godfather to visit Hogsmeade, so Sirius had sent it to him, but it didn't make sense that it wasn't Petunia the one to do it. She had custody, right? Well, it wasn't so surprizing, actually, having met Petunia and considering Harry's casual comments about his relatives. But it was definitely wrong. The kid had seemed far too excited at the idea of going to live with a convicted murderer who looked like a crazy skeleton. Harry clearly didn't get along with his Muggle relatives, and it didn't sound as if they cared much about him. Sirius couldn't ignore that Harry sounded very much the way he had sounded talking about his own family when he was his age (bar the swear words, of course, Harry was too polite for that). It also sounded like Harry didn't get enough to eat there. He said it was because his cousin was on a diet, but the kid had looked scrawny last summer too, when he had ran away from home and stumbled into Sirius. He had not had the chance to ask him why he had ran away, and didn't dare asking by letter, but it couldn't have been for any good reason.

Something was wrong with those Muggles.

He swallowed the guilt and kept reading.

A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?

Sirius froze. The cave seemed to be closing up on him, and it was becoming hard to breathe. He could feel the coldness and darkness threatening with engulfing him.

WHAT?

A sharp pain brought him back to reality. The owl had pecked at his hand, and Sirius could swear it had been to help him out of his episode. He stroke her feathers gratefully and took a deep breath before reading again that part of the letter. This time he was able to process the words instead of just going into shock in response, but he still felt cold gripping his heart.

Sirius had heard his lunatic cousin yelling in Azkaban about Voldemort not having really died, and there had been no body in James' cottage that night, so he had always expected the bastard to return some day, but...

Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts.

How...? When...? It sounded awfully as if Harry had met Voldemort at Hogwarts. But that couldn't be, right? If Voldemort had returned, everybody would know. Sirius might have been lost in a cloud of despair and rage all through last year, but he had had enough moments of lucidity as to be able to understand what was going on and even check some newspapers. There had been nothing about Voldemort.

And Harry's scar... what did that mean?

I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he?

Sirius began to panic and curse himself. He should have never left Britain! How long would it take him to fly back? Too bloody long! Harry's letter was dated more than a week ago, he might already be dead for all Sirius knew...

He fought the urge to turn into a dog. Don't be a coward, Sirius Orion Black! He couldn't fall apart now, not when his godson needed him. He had to calm down and put himself together.

He took another deep breath, slowly let it out, and finished reading the letter.

"So you're Hedwig?" he asked the snowy owl, stroking her again with a shaky hand. "Nice to meet you."

The owl made a sound as in greeting and swelled herself importantly.

"Would you be willing to take a letter to someone other than Harry?" he asked her. It would take time to put his hands on one of those tropical birds, and he didn't feel as if he had time to spare. "It's to make sure he's safe."

Hedwig seemed willing, so Sirius went to sit to his made-up desk (a flat stone, since his transfigurations didn't seem to last) where he already had a half-written letter to Remus. Maybe he ought to write to Dumbledore directly, but in his state of panic he really needed to reach out to a friend. His last friend. Remus would know what to do, and he would give him more answers than Dumbledore.

It took him considerable mental effort to focus on his task instead of letting himself be swallowed by despair. He couldn't fall apart now, that simply wasn't an option. He couldn't be messed up when Harry needed his help. If he had managed to retain enough lucidity as to escape Azkaban, he could sit here with his head straight for five minutes to write this letter. He could give free rein to his panic later, once the owl was in the air. He could decide whether to jump on Buckbeak's back and follow later. The owl would reach Britain much faster, so that was priority.

Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts.

Focus! Harry must be fine, Dumbledore would make sure of that. No need to panic yet. He knew what Remus would say: stay safe and don't do anything rush. Well, he could do that. For Harry, he would do the responsible thing, which at this moment was simply sending a letter so others could take care of the problem. Not Sirius' usual style, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Remus was closer, and he wasn't a fugitive, he could Apparate in a blink to Petunia's house to check on Harry, or reach out to Dumbledore if it was necessary. It would be stupid to head back to Britain without more information.

It took him about an hour to finish his letter, having to rewrite it entirely three times so it wouldn't read like the ravings of a madman.

Then it took him an additional half hour to cast the concealing charm, too complex for his current mental state. He managed, though. By the time Sirius tied the letter to the snowy owl's leg, she seemed rested enough and had already drank water and eaten some fruit.

"This is for Remus Lupin," he told her seriously. "He was Harry's teacher last year. I don't know where he might be now, do you think you can find him?"

Hedwig sort of rolled her eyes again and nipped at his finger before taking flight. Sirius was liking more and more the assemble of creatures and friends that Harry had surrounded himself with. When the owl disappeared, he went to sit against Buckbeak, who was nibbling at a bone in his usual corner.

"Harry says hi," he whispered. The hippogriff pretended not to hear, but Sirius knew that he had. "Remember Harry? He's a friend of Hagrid." Now Buckbeak let out a sad shrill. He missed Hagrid, Sirius knew. Which creature wouldn't miss Hagrid?

Sirius was sorry for the hippogriff, but also grateful for him. It might not be human company, but it was company. Living, warm company. And it was probably what was keeping him sane.

That, and his Animagus form.

It was much easier to be a dog, he thought again as he curled to sleep next to Buckbeak.