Haroldswick in the Shetland Islands was beyond the range of Wizarding Britain's portkey and apparition wards. The most northern point, Skaw, has one listed human inhabitant, who the muggles think is a sheep farmer. Since he does need to keep a large number of sheep for the dragons, it isn't completely inaccurate.
Given an escape from Azkaban, the standard response is to place an Auror team in Skaw with a strong team of sniffers for any form of magical transportation. It is a decent standard response, based on the assumption that an escape from Azkaban would require a highly sophisticated strike team of dozens of wizards spanning disciplines from runes, charms, transfiguration, with a powerful combat element specializing in soul related spells like the Patronus.
This response seemed geared for the escape they could conceive of, but failed utterly to detect the escape they got.
A polar bear and unconscious Grim came ashore at Skaw, a young dragon stooped and dove at it, the common welsh green was young and very full of himself. He was a dragon, and the Grim was basically dead anyway. The Polar Bear could simply go grab a seal, it could not possibly be worth fighting a dragon.
The logic was sound, and in the experience of the young dragon, nothing except a larger dragon or the wizard keeper, had ever even tried to deny it anything. He had fire, claws, fangs and, well, he was a dragon. This was the truth of the world, dragons took, and non dragons took it.
Milicent had a mouth full of wet fur. Wet Azkaban filth fur. Wet untreated sores weeping into unclean fur and a dozen years thick, fur. Sirius had started swimming powerfully, but a dozen years of physical privation, starvation, non existent exercise, and constant mental and spiritual torture had left him weak. After twenty kilometers, he was riding her back. After sixty, he was in her mouth, dragged like a half drowned puppy through a choppy North Sea to the first bit of land, if you want to call it that, she could reach.
Finally she gets wet shuddering filthy dog out of her mouth, and goes to wash her mouth out with sea water and some junior jackass Welsh Green preserve dragon, not even a proper wild hunting dragon, but one stepped removed from a farm animal, a trust fund baby reptile, dove from the sky to steal and eat the Morgana be damned dog she had dragged all the way from Azkaban.
Milicent possibly overreacted. She roared her defiance, and the dragon reacted as thousands of years of instincts taught him he should. It should be noted that dragons were a protected species because they were endangered. If your species is on the endangered list, you should think twice, or perhaps go have a nice long lie down and think a third time, before following them.
The Welsh Green roared his best roar, he was a juvenile, so it wasn't bad, but it wasn't yet good, and gave vent to all the fire in his young belly. It was overkill and would probably ruin the dog, but enough of the bear would survive to make a meal, and besides, you couldn't do this with sheep. There would be nothing left!
He passed through his fire, which had stopped in mid air and turned into mist, and cold mist at that. He had perhaps half a second to wonder why he felt cold before a diving dragon met a wide white paw, with long terrible claws.
Very shortly, Milicent had something other than wet dog in her mouth, and her mood was improving. Turning back into a human, she took out her parchment and wrote to her minions.
"Minions, I am somewhere close to Ska. Look for the dead dragon. The dog is not stable, so bring me the harness. And a breath mint."
Milicent saw the writing fade on her parchment, meaning it had been read. A cheery smiley face, and then a second one, were drawn in return. Her minions were minioning. All was well.
Sirius had gorged himself on dragon meat, then thrown up, then gone back and gorged himself again. Honestly, she was not going to stand on table manners after a long swim from Azkaban. She smelled the dragon's blood, and saw the half starved Grim had at least eaten the liver, which was full of much of what he needed. Like a nutrient potion, only it bled when you took it. That made it better. Since her minions would be a while, she had time. She moved in to get a bit more of that good wing root muscle. That was the best steak a dragon had. The Grim tried growling at her, the whole alpha male dominance thing kicking off. That was pure human, an actual Grim would understand pissing off three hundred kilograms of polar bear over her own dragon kill was not survivable. She kept her claws out and she tossed him tushy over teakettle back onto the strand. He yelped, which she didn't care about, and splashed, which was good.
Sirius was seriously stinky. A long swim in the North Sea and still he reeked. Crawling around in dragon guts improved his smell, and that statement did not bear thinking about. Still, he looked full when he staggered up to the grass and collapsed. Maybe he was ready to talk. She chewed the last of the dragons wing root muscle. So tender. Love that young adult, no heavy metal build up, no nasty scar tissue, no fat deposits, just good clean wing steak. Got to be vitamins in there, or something. Ah well, she did have to talk to him before the minions arrived.
Crawling over to the grass, she turned back into a human. Cold and wet stayed, but due to her ice affinity and water magic, she felt good cold and wet.
"Hey, Lord Black, are you up to talking?" Milicent said, too tired to turn her head and look. The grim shuddered through its own change, and she looked over at Sirius for a good look under the late afternoon sun.
He looked like something she would not eat if she passed it dead on the roadside. His eyes were sunk into deep bruises that passed for his eye sockets. His cheekbones were so prominent she thought she was looking at a skeleton. He had muscle drawn up over what she suspected began as a well muscled swordsman or duelists frame, but starved down to near skeletal. His eyes were wild and twitching.
He looked like a madman who had spent a dozen years sitting on top of a mountain trying to learn the secrets of the universe, and has decided to come down from the mountain and kill us all.
Super stable. Yep. This is what I am bringing home to Harry for a happy birthday. I am beginning to think three severed heads is the saner of my gifts. Hermione's is either going to go over really well, or make everyone think I am the worst human being in existence. Still it seemed a safer bet than Sirius.
"Slytherin. What is a Slytherin doing with Harry? They don't do favours for Gryffindors." Sirius said, and she guessed he was trying to be intimidating, but he was too weak to stand right now, the long swim having taken from him more than he had to give.
"Hufflepuff." Milicent said. "Harry is a Hufflepuff. Neville is a Hufflepuff, Hermione is a Hufflepuff. Merlin, the only actual snake among us, Noodle, is technically a Hufflepuff although I claim dual citizenship for him in Slytherin as he sometimes sleeps with me."
Sirius looked confused, which Milicent thought, wasn't totally unfair. Hufflepuffs were better at information dumps. Slytherin's just cast shadows on the vague outline of a fact and expected you to fill in the rest out of context, and inuendo.
God. She really needed her minions right now for translator duty.
"You have a snake animagus in Hufflepuff?" Sirus asked shocked.
"Yes, I mean no. Yes we do, but no we don't admit it, and technically it is they not we. The important bit is Noodle is a Hufflepuff but not an animagus. He is a snake, a mind magic teacher, and he kills perverts on contract. See Hermione if you need some." Milicent clarified, which only increased Sirius confusion.
It was then a black Vauxhall Astra four door station wagon pulled up and honked the horn. Sirius looked up to see two rangy late teen gingers, looks like twins, pile out and come down to them.
"My queen!" Said Fred
"Your minions," continued George
"Have arrived!" Finished Fred.
Sirius was scrambling for a wand he didn't have when the two boys took out a strange series of leather straps and chains that made Sirius start to have flashbacks to the Aurors who kept him bound and gagged, never given a chance to speak until he was already locked up in Azkaban. He began to panic.
Milicent grabbed Sirius face and pulled his face down to look at her. She was a big boned strong girl, but he was a grown man. It shouldn't have been a contest. She was a beater who was at the peak of her training and he was essentially a death camp survivor, so the arithmancy added up differently than Sirius thought.
"Focus, Sirius. These are my minions. Say hello to the escaped prisoner. Give him your Gryffindor secret handshake, or grunt and ball scratch. However you pre-sentient life forms greet each other." Milicent said sharply.
"I'm Fred," Said George.
"And I'm George." Said Fred happily.
"Gryffindor beaters." Said George.
"Pranksters, bon vivants, performance artists!" Enthused Fred.
"Minions of her most violent majesty." Cooed George.
"I have ball gags. I am prepared to use them!" Snapped Milicent, noting the gear the boys seemed to have inexplicably filled a dufflebag with.
Fred looked at her in awe. "I am developing." Said Fred
"A fetish." Agreed George.
"Merlin's balls, what has Harry gotten himself into!" Sirius began laughing.
Milicent smiled indulgently, then opened the harness and gestured to Sirius.
"You are the single most wanted wizard on the planet right now. As an Animagus you cannot be tracked. We plan on keeping you as a dog while we move about the cities and towns. We are going to do some muggle shopping for clothes, and then smuggle you back into London so you can claim sanctuary with Harry." Milicent said softly.
Sirius looked at the harness. "What is the harness for. I'm not actually a dog, I don't need one." His paranoia was growing again, he would not be bound!
Milicent sighed. "Look Sirius, you are stark raving mad. Bonkers. Whacko. Insane. You have tried to bite me about a dozen times while I was rescuing you, including while I was trying to stop you from drowning.
I can't turn into a polar bear around muggles to slap some sense into you, but I am going to need to slap some sense into you. You are going to need to be restrained when all the damage the Dementors did to your mind get's bad. If I try to smuggle someone in a straight jacket or on a medical stretcher, they are going to know it's you. If you start freaking out dressed like a normal person, everyone is going to see. Muggles authorities and the DMLE liaisons are going to see.
Sirius screamed at her "I AM UNDER CONTROL!"
"Woof woof!" Barked Fred
"AOOOOOOOO!" Howled George helpfully.
I can't make you look normal. I can't transport you magically. I have to get you to London where you can take legal sanctuary without people taking a good look at you. I can't hide you. I can't make people not see you. I can, however, make people not notice you.
"I am not insane." Sirius whispered as Milicent dragged him to the Vauxhall and its heater.
"Don't worry mate!" Cheered Fred
"Stay with us a bit," Offered George
"And you will be." Concluded Fred.
The drive back in the warmth was too much for Sirius, he turned into a dog and went to sleep. When they got back to the hotel and Sirius saw what he was to wear he was torn between bursting out laughing and trying to jump through the window.
"You cannot expect me to wear that! I am Sirius Orion Black. I am a Hit Wizard with the Ministry, I am heir to an Ancient and Noble House, I am not dressing as some sort of leather pervert!" Sirius said.
"Exactly!" Milicent said happily. "You would never stoop to such a thing. Sirius Orion Black turned his head up at the whole of Pure Blood society, refused to bend the knee to Voldemort, refused to play politics even to aid your own career. Everyone knows you are the Gryffindor's Gryffindor. If there is a door marked "certain death" that you can walk through, and one marked "slight skin rash" you have to bend to enter, you will chose "certain death with your head held high."
"I am sorry to report this, but the year after your imprisonment, your grandfather passed. You were heir black, now you are Lord Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House Black." Milicent said softly.
Sirius held his head up proudly. Milicent took his lifted chin as the opportunity to snap the collar around his neck that read only SLAVE BOY #3.
"You have no wand, none of us can apparate. All the portkey sources are being watched by the Ministry. The Aurors have their best men at the airports, and check points along all the roadways. They have teams with Dementors checking the trains. Every fast mode and discrete mode of transport is being checked." Said Milicent with a grin.
Sirius was blocking Fred and George from bucklng more fetish gear onto his lanky form.
"What has that got to do with this leather pervert wear?" Sirius demanded.
Milicent smiled softly. "I killed Lord Selwyn to take his house. As part of my inventory, it turns out I own a pair of fetish clubs. One of them is straight, one gay. Both are vampire run, because of course House Selwyn is in bed with the vampires, but while I was chatting with the Vampires about travel to and from Scotland, they told me they could arrange a very special cruise. One that will make any poor straightlaced Auror stuck dealing with passengers want to spend as much time hiding in his cabin as possible."
Sirius blinked. "Your plan to defeat Wizarding Britain's whole Auror corps manhunt is to march me in a leather jock strap, face mask, right past the wizard check point?"
Milicent laughed. "Of course not. You will be crawling."
In the end, no one noticed Lord Siris Black. He was wearing a black leather face mask with dog ears. He crawled beside the two wheeled cart that Milicent rode in, a wonderful affair of black and silver. She wore a blood red gown with black corset and high boots. A small back hat with half veil covered half her face, and a black leather riding crop (with her wand inserted into it) completed the ensemble.
She cracked the crop loudly several times as her two Ginger pony boys raced her chariot up the gangplank, her poor dog slave whimpering as he tried to keep up with his hands bound in padlike goves.
"Muggle freaks!" Auror Gina Pevermere said as she shrank back.
"No charms, no glamours, and the Thief's downfall spray didn't change anything. No polyjuice or transfiguration." Her partner Fred Podmore said, looking at them in disgust.
"How did we get stuck with this damned assignment. We should be watching the black market portkey locations, or the muggle airports, not dealing with these muggle degenerates. No one is taking a slow boat to London when they break out of Azkaban!" Fumed Auror Pevermere.
"Have to scourgify every bloody thing you touch or sit on. No telling what those muggles have done on it, or to it." Auror Podmore shuddered.
"That's it Podmore. I'm not leaving the cabin until we get to London. I will pay the oblivators out of my own damned pay packet to forget this entire voyage." Auror Pevermere swore.
"Too right boss. Merlin's bloody beard. I don't want to see, hear, or remember anything they get up to on this pervert cruise. Bloody Muggles." Auror Podmore swore.
In their cabin later that night, Sirius black met Noodle. At first Milicent would translate, but soon Noodle was past Sirius shields, and into the shattered wreckage of his mind. The mind of Speaker's godfather. Noodle was a patient snake. He would work slowly. Build the broken bits back that he would need to work on his own mind. Noodle could not do much yet, only stop the dissolution of a mind already failing.
Midsummer would come soon, and true healing could be done. Until then, Noodle would teach Padfoot how to survive. For ten years he had howled his hate at the Dementors, for ten years he had waged the war of the forgotten and the damned in the sure and certain knowledge his corpse would one day join the sewer stench of the main shaft, when there was no longer enough left for the Dementors to feed on. Noodle had to find the bit of man, the one who held faith so long ago out of love of a boy. Not the warrior in his endless fight, that one was mad beyond saving. Noodle had to find the man who held a tiny baby in his hands and swore both love and protection to it.
During the night, Sirius would wake up screaming, and Milicent would take out her whip and start cracking it loudly. Fred and George would loudly begin shouting ridiculous things they found from muggle movies they would never explain to Milicent (too young and innocent they claimed.)
No one thought to investigate the sound of one more voice screaming in the night, when the sounds of whips and happy voices begging for another made it plain that playtime was on.
During the day, Noodle and Sirius would again spend hours staring into each other's eyes. Sirius refusing to let Noodle in, until Noodle offered to trade memory for memory. Noodle would share Harry's life through Noodle's eyes, if Sirius would let Noodle into the torn screaming places in his head, to open the worst of the cysts, and let their mental toxin's bleed into his consciousness where Sirius could at least see them.
A regal noblewoman with her giant black Grim on a leash strode into Gringotts with two looming bodyguard wizards behind her in serious conservative suits with the proud House Selwyn crest large on their right breast, their eyes cold and hard and their wands at the ready as they framed her in the Gringotts entrance.
The Gringotts goblin guard sneered as he sloped his halberd in front of the arrogant Pure Blood who thought to bring and animal into Gringotts in defiance of the treaty.
"No wizard animals in Gringotts save Post Owls." Sneered the goblin. Four other Goblin warriors moved to pen her in, and a dozen more moved from the secret doors on either side of the entrance in case her two red headed guard wizards made trouble.
In a low voice the goblin could barely hear, the young black haired witch spoke in rough but passable Gobbledygook.
"This is no dog. This is Lord Sirius Orion Black, Godfather of Harry Potter son of Griphook. He comes to The Nation to claim sanctuary within his clan. I am Milicent Bulstrode, by blood and bone, soul and stone, kin to Harry Potter. I have brought Harry's godfather home." Milicent said her goblin rough and almost laughable, if not one wizard in a thousand every bothered to learn even the common greetings.
The guard goblin sneered, and Milicent sneered back. Wizards and witches in the bank began to whisper. That decided things for the goblin. This was Goblin business. Wizards had no business whispering about it.
"I am Heartfang. If you lie, I will have the head from your shoulders, and the gold from your vaults." He sneered.
"Not on your best day, not with twice the goblins you brought with you." Milicent sneered back.
The goblin laughed as he led her back to Griphook's office. He didn't know what it was about Griphook and the strange human child he adopted. He seemed to keep finding the only polite wizards and witches in all of Britain. If he didn't kill this girl, he would have to buy her dinner and hear the tale of her journey.
He laughed a particular goblin laugh. Blood and glory or information and story, there was profit either way. This was going to be a good day!