Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Escape (#3117)
Author: VanatheEverYoung
Chapters: 4

Archive: Harry Potter
Category: Bookverse
Description: Sirius Black has been a prisoner all his life, but he's always managed to escape his many wardens. A series of one-shots about the escapes throughout Sirius's life as seen through the eyes of James, Harry, Tonks, and Dumbledore.
Published: 23 Nov 2006
Updated: 23 Nov 2006
Warnings: None
Type: Drama
Characters: Sirius; James; Harry; Tonks; Dumbledore


Chapter 1 - The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

Escape
Chapter One
“The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black”

The sultry summer breeze blew in through the open window, rustling the loose sheets of parchment scattered across the messy desk. The telescope perched on the window sill spun idly, creaking at every quarter turn, and the half completed star chart lay abandoned beside it. Across the room, the door stood ajar, the single lamp casting a shaft of orange light onto the otherwise dark hallway. Half a family portrait was illuminated. Three occupants smiled from inside the frame; the dark-haired father with his arm around his wife’s shoulder; the mother nervously flattened her wild curls; and the handsome son raked one hand through his untidy mop of jet black hair.

James Potter slipped back into his bedroom silently, shutting the door with his foot as he juggled a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in one hand and a gigantic glass of ice cold milk in the other. Just before the door shut completely, a house-elf stuck its head into the room. In a high-pitched but whispered voice, she scolded her master for not waking her up to make food for him.

“Go back to sleep, Jilly,” James laughed. “It’s too late to unmake the sandwiches now.”

The house-elf stood on the threshold for a moment before leaving, squeaking madly as she disappeared down the dark hallway. James turned back to his homework and lifted a sandwich from the plate. He wasn’t usually one to do homework so early during summer holiday, but it was three forty-three in the morning and there was nothing else to do.

For half an hour, the silence was broken only by the rustling of leaves just outside the window and the scratching of the quill as James labeled constellations and galaxies. He tossed down the quill in disgust as a great dollop of grape jam splattered onto the perfect dots representing Canis Minor. He eyed the wand lying on his bedside table, wondering if he could get away with casting a simple charm to lift the jelly stain off the parchment. He decided that the Ministry of Magic had been serious when they sent him the warning for casting the Trip Jinx three summers ago.

A wide grin spread across his lips as he thought about Sirius tumbling down three flights of stairs, cursing the entire time. He could picture his best friend’s shocked and betrayed expression during the tenuous seconds before his balance shifted, and then … clunk … clunk …

James sat up straight. He could have sworn that he had really heard the third clunk he had been remembering. The rustling leaves seemed louder than ever as he sat perfectly still. Several tense moments passed, but James heard nothing else. Convinced that he had been enjoying the memory of tripping Sirius too much, he turned back to his jelly-stained homework.

He was just about to try licking the jelly off the parchment when he heard the sound again. He dashed over to his window, instinctively picking up his wand as he moved across the room. James gazed out at the dark backyard, squinting for signs of anything unusual. The moon was only a small sliver in the sky, perfect for star gazing, but terrible for detecting intruders. The branches of the ancient oak swayed ominously, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

James shook his head, thinking it was about time for him to get to bed. Then he saw it: a dark figure slipping out from under the boughs of the oak. He gripped his wand tightly and bolted across the room. He reached out to turn off the lamp, but withdrew his hand at the last second. Turning off the light would alert the intruder that someone in the house knew he was sneaking around. James dashed down the two flights of stairs, through the drawing room, and into the conservatory.

The intruder cast a long shadow on the glass walls as he moved slowly for the door. James wondered why the burglar was moving so slowly, but immediately rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. The intruder was sneaking, obviously.

“Alohomora,” the intruder whispered.

James tensed. It was a wizard breaking into their house. It was either a burglar who had heard about the Potters’ wealth or a Dark wizard who had labeled the family as blood traitors. Since the Death Eaters roved in packs, James assumed it was a lonely burglar looking for gold. He knew enough magic to handle a burglar.

The moment the door swung open and he had a clear shot, James cast the most effective and disabling spell he knew. It was one that Moony had taught him and practice on Snivellus had helped him perfect. It was the crippling and hilarious Fire Eyes Hex, or as Lily Evans jokingly called it, the Wizarding Mace Hex.

“Visignia!”

“Merlin’s beard, Prongs!”

James’s heart stopped beating for a moment as Sirius Black stumbled backwards, bumped into his trunk, and flipped over. Sirius hissed a string of continuous curses at his best friend until James climbed over Sirius’s trunk and performed the countercurse.

“Visaqua!”

Sirius rubbed his eyes furiously, still cursing at James. James took the opportunity to survey his best friend. The full moon they had spent up north with Remus was only two weeks past, and Sirius didn’t usually need to get away from his lunatic mother so often. However, the large trunk he had brought was a signal that Sirius planned to stay for the rest of the summer.

When Sirius removed his hands from his face, he looked more disgruntled than James could ever remember seeing him. The usual smile hitched onto his lips was replaced with a nasty scowl, and his eyes were dark and narrowed. Granted, he wasn’t bound to look happy after having his eyeballs burned, but James had a feeling there was more to it than just that.

Sirius dropped onto the cool, damp grass and stared across the dark yard. Usually he just barged into the house and crashed in the guest bedroom. James knew his best friend well enough to know that he needed to talk, but didn’t know how to begin. He eased onto the ground next to Sirius, staring silently into the darkness.

“I think I crushed your mum’s roses with my trunk,” Sirius said, after several silent minutes.

“Ah, she won’t mind. You at breakfast will more than make up for her ruined roses. Now, if I had so much as stepped into her precious flowerbeds ….”

The silence settled again, this time stretching for much longer than before. James leaned against the trunk that was still blocking the doorway, waiting patiently for Sirius to find a way of explaining what had happened this time. They were so close that silence between them wasn’t awkward or unusual. It just … was. It was as natural as breathing to accept that they didn’t always have something to say to one another.

When the first fingers of purple dawn stretched over the eastern horizon and the sparrows in the oak tree began singing, Sirius turned his head slightly to make sure James was still awake. James’s eyes were wide open, and all his attention was focused on Sirius.

“She told me I had to prove my loyalty, to join Voldemort or be banished from the family.”

There was no need for Sirius to clarify who “she” was. It was his mother. It was always his mother. James remained silent, sensing that Sirius wasn’t finished talking.

“I told her to go to Hell, and she blasted my name off the tapestry. I mean, I always knew she would do it …. Just not in front of me.”

James grasped his best friend’s shoulder firmly. It was the most physical contact Sirius would tolerate at this point.

“Family is who you make it,” James said simply.

Sirius turned to look at him again, and James was suddenly struck by the inadequacy of his words. Emotions he had never seen before were swimming in Sirius’s gray eyes: pain, isolation, doubt. Those things were so antithetical to the Padfoot he had always known that James felt as if the entire world had lurched and he couldn’t figure out which way was up.

How little had he known his best friend? He wondered if he’d ever really looked beyond the corny jokes and laughter to see the real Sirius as James was seeing him now. Everyone had family problems, James had always thought. Peter hated his parents almost as much as Sirius hated his, and Remus was barely on speaking terms with his father … But, Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew and Mr. Lupin wouldn’t ever banish their children. They would work something out one day, when their sons were no longer angst-ridden teenagers … but not the Blacks.

Black. James suddenly realized. It was as if he had known it all along, but refused to see it. He didn’t want to acknowledge it because of the horrible, dark implications associated with it. Sirius was a Black. He was branded as a pureblood elitist … a Muggle-hater … a Slytherin …

Except Padfoot wasn’t any of that. He was a pureblood who associated with Muggle-borns and half-bloods indiscriminately, who was friends with a werewolf, who had been sorted into Gryffindor for his courage and his loyalty …. His courage to walk away from a family history of pureblood mania and his loyalty to his ideals and his friends.

A heavy weight settled into James’s chest, pushing the air out of his lungs. It caused a strange discomfort to understand why Sirius always laughed the loudest and fought the hardest. It was the need to prove himself. But to whom? To his family who would never accept him? No, James didn’t think that was it. A burning sense of guilt bubbled up in his stomach. Sirius worked so hard to prove himself to his friends … to prove that he was a Black in name only.

James mentally berated himself. Someone less self-absorbed would have understood that ages ago. People who weren’t even Sirius’s closest friends had probably figured it out. Of course, Remus had undoubtedly hinted about it before, but James had been too caught up in his own affairs to pay much attention. He hated it that Moony knew everything. And damn it all to Hell, Evans was right! Arrogant … self-absorbed … selfish …. Yeah, Evans had him pegged.

Well, not any more. If there was anyone worth swallowing his pride for it was Sirius. Merlin knew how often Sirius played second best to James. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable it felt for him to be sensitive and compassionate, James wasn’t about to let his best mate suffer alone anymore.

James squeezed Sirius’s shoulder again, drawing his friend’s attention away from the rising sun.

“You’re my brother, Padfoot. You know that, right?”

Sirius answered by grasping James’s shoulder. They sat in silence for several more minutes, staring at the sun with their hands resting on one another’s shoulders.

“Can a guy get some breakfast around here?” Sirius asked.

James almost laughed, but the stabbing guilt killed the sound in his throat. It was always Sirius who broke the tension with a joke. It wasn’t fair that he should have to be funny after his mother had just kicked him out of the family. There wasn’t anything funny about that.

“Yeah, Jilly can get us something to eat. We should get this trunk up to your room first, though. We’ve still got another month before we go back to school, so you’ll want to get settled in. Mum’s probably up by now. I’ll go tell her you’re here. She might even use a Levitation Charm on your trunk so we don’t have to carry it up three flights of stairs.”

Sirius followed James automatically, but he didn’t hear all of what his best friend was saying. It had been such a long and confusing night. His mother’s actions shouldn’t have upset him so badly, but they had. He’d expected to lie in the guest bedroom all night, haunted by his mother’s shrieked insults. But James hadn’t called it the guest bedroom; he’d called it Sirius’s room. Almost like it was his home away from Hogwarts.

And it was. He didn’t have anywhere else to go now, but that seemed all right.

James had been wide-awake and willing to listen when he’d arrived. And what’s more, he’d called Sirius his brother. He hadn’t said “like a brother.” He had called Sirius his brother. Like a family member. And if he was part of the Potter family, then he didn’t have to be a member of the Black family anymore.

Sirius paused at the foot of the stairs, his attention no longer focused on James’s retreating back. Upon a fragile spindly-legged table with chipped and dented edges sat a cluster of mismatched picture frames. Tucked inside a gilded frame was a photograph of himself taken at the Holyhead versus Puddlemere United Quidditch match the previous summer. The photographic Sirius was grinning broadly and leaning against the frame. There wasn’t anyone else in the picture … just him, Sirius. All around his picture were images of deceased grandparents and great uncles, of James and his dad, of Mrs. Potter and baby James.

And there was a place among them for Sirius.

~*~

Author’s Note: Many thanks to my Beta Galadriel8891.


Chapter 2 - Azkaban Prison

Escape
Chapter Two
“Azkaban Prison”

The hippogriff touched down lightly on the ramparts of Hogwarts Castle. He rustled his gray feathers and stomped his hind hooves as the three humans dismounted. Hermione Granger didn’t think he looked at all pleased to have been saved from execution, dragged through the Forbidden Forest, and forced to carry three riders to the tallest tower of the castle. Buckbeak fixed a fierce orange eye on her, as if he knew she had been the rider who had tugged painfully at his feathers. She bowed nervously, her eyes watering profusely as she refused to blink. Buckbeak squawked indignantly, but bowed reluctantly. She breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to pat his steel gray beak.

Off to the side, the other two riders were talking quietly. Hermione tugged on Buckbeak’s reins, moving off a few paces to give her best friend and his godfather some privacy. The boy’s face reflected so many conflicting emotions that it was not at first discernable what he was thinking. His eyebrows were knitted, but his eyes were wide. His lips flickered between a deep frown and the tiniest of smiles as his godfather spoke.

Harry Potter was trying his best to hide how upset he was from his godfather. Sirius had been through so much, and Harry had ruined it all by being high-minded. Sirius had struggled to keep his sanity and his magical powers for twelve years, escaped from Azkaban prison, and risked his soul by hiding inside the Hogwarts grounds with dementors at every entrance. He had done it all to avenge the murders of his best friends, Harry’s parents.

But Harry hadn’t let Sirius kill the man who had betrayed Lily and James Potter, who had framed Sirius for those murders, who had left Remus Lupin alone and friendless, who was the reason Harry was an orphan. No, Harry had asked Sirius to let Peter Pettigrew live. It was his fault Pettigrew escaped; his fault Sirius’s name wouldn’t be cleared. Harry wanted to feel disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to live with Sirius, but he couldn’t allow himself that selfishness. It was his own fault, after all.

Harry could hardly stand to look at his godfather because of the guilt gnawing at his insides. His eyes fixed on Sirius’s shoulder. It didn’t do any good to avoid his godfather’s eyes, though. The tangled mess of elbow length black hair and the filthy black robes with the cruel serial number on the chest taunted him, reminding him of where Sirius had been and why he had to run again.

Sirius laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He was saying something about Lily, about her eyes. Instinctively, Harry looked into the deeply recessed eyes of the man standing in front of him. They looked different than in the wanted posters that lined every window and bare wall in Hogsmeade Village. For one, the eyes were gray instead of black. They were horribly hollow, like there was no emotion resting inside of Sirius to be reflected. But something was shining through the hollowed depths, a flicker of some long forgotten memory returning at last.

Harry tried closing his eyes, but the image was burned into his brain. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself. He had seen the pride and love in Sirius’s eyes, the fleeting happiness.

“You’re more like them than you know.”

Harry swallowed thickly. It was James’s and Lily’s legacy living through Harry that had made Sirius happy, however briefly. And it was Harry who had shattered all hope of Sirius being happy again. If only he’d done something to stop Pettigrew from escaping. He shouldn’t have listened to Hermione. He should have caught Pettigrew when they went back in time!

But he’d been too preoccupied with the Patronus, with the possibility seeing his father. He had been worried about saving Sirius from the dementors …

The dementors. A cold shudder passed down Harry’s spine at the mere thought of those vicious creatures. Sirius must have been strong to resist them for twelve years. Whereas Harry passed out within moments of coming into contact with one of them, Sirius still had his sanity after twelve years of nothing but contact with them.

Maybe Sirius just didn’t have many bad memories to relive. Maybe his youth and school years had been so pleasant that when the dementors stole those memories, his mind just went blank, like dreamless sleep. Harry felt inexplicably happy thinking that Sirius might have led such a joyful life before he was wrongly convicted.

He wondered if Sirius’s worst memory was getting caught by Filch before the Marauder’s Map was completed. Or maybe one of their Animagus transformations had gone wrong. Maybe Sirius had been confined to the hospital wing for a month with a tail, like Hermione had been in second year. An unexpected smile spread across his lips. Maybe all of Sirius’s worst memories were really funny in hindsight ….

But that didn’t seem right to Harry. All that happiness would have attracted the dementors more, and no matter how pleasant a life one led, their power was terrible and inescapable. No, Sirius probably hadn’t lived the perfect life before Azkaban. The hope that had blossomed in his stomach turned into pride. His godfather wasn’t so lucky as to have had an easy life. He was just strong.

Sirius had clung to the worst memory possible in order to survive: he was serving the prison sentence that belonged to the man who had betrayed his friends to their deaths. There wasn’t anything more terrible than hate. Harry knew this for a fact. He had hated Sirius from the moment he’d heard that his parents had been betrayed by their closest friend, and now he hated Peter Pettigrew.

A constant gnawing sensation had settled around Harry’s middle, as if a fearsome beast struggled against his flesh trying to escape and wreak havoc. It was a difficult task, hating someone. For months, it had clawed at his every waking thought and screamed for more attention, more energy devoted to the act of hating. Although he was young, only thirteen, Harry knew that the lurking monster could consume him.

And it must be worse for Sirius, he thought. Pettigrew hadn’t been just a faceless stranger. Someone hadn’t just told Sirius that Pettigrew betrayed James and Lily. They had been friends, as thick as thieves and closer than brothers. Sirius had trusted him, trusted him so much that he had put his best friends’ and godson’s lives into Pettigrew’s hands.

Harry’s fists clenched, his nails digging mercilessly into his palms. He wouldn’t blame Sirius for that. He’d never blame Sirius. For every decision there were at least two choices. It was Pettigrew who had chosen wrong. Under threat of death, Harry had refused to join Voldemort at the age of eleven. As a grown man, Pettigrew should have been able to do the same.

Sirius climbed onto Buckbeak’s back, and Hermione handed him the rope reins. With a final wave, Sirius and Buckbeak took to the sky. Harry and Hermione stood side by side watching the hippogriff and man escape together. As they flew in front of the full moon, Harry remembered that Professor Lupin was wandering the grounds. He would be devastated when he found out that Sirius had been forced to flee. Their friendship had been reconciled for less than an hour before they were separated again.

“Harry … Harry … Harry!”

It took a moment for Harry to realize that Hermione was speaking to him. Her voice became jumbled with the many threads of consciousness swirling through his head. Finally, she grasped his sleeve and shook him, physically jolting him out of his reverie.

“Harry, we’ve got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing!”

With a nod to show that he’d understood, he followed Hermione down the spiral staircase and through the school. They were held up once by having to hide from Snape and Fudge and again by Peeves, but managed to slip back into the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was about to lock the doors.

Harry scrambled into bed, his heart pounding in his ears. Beside him, Hermione had buried herself up to her eyes in blankets and was shaking slightly. Harry stared at the ceiling, waiting tensely for the clock to stop chiming. Madam Pomfrey appeared between their beds and began shoving chocolate into their mouths.

What would Fudge do when Sirius was found missing from Professor Flitwick’s office? The grounds would be searched, naturally. But Sirius wasn’t on the ground, and Harry didn’t think he’d land Buckbeak for a long while. Not only was his godfather brave and loyal, he was also intelligent and powerfully magical. He’d managed to keep his Animagus ability, escape from Azkaban, and elude capture for an entire year while hiding right under the dementors’ noses … er, mouths …

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the thought. He didn’t want to think about the rotting hands and malodorous breath anymore. Dumbledore was going to send them away. Hopefully Harry would never have to see another dementor.

As the clock tower stopped chiming, a charged silence hung in the air. Harry and Hermione exchanged silent glances, waiting tensely for the inevitable to happen. Overhead, a resounding, infuriated roar ripped through the silence. Hermione jumped several inches off her bed, her eyes wide with worry and fear. But Harry wasn’t frightened. Snape’s anger caused a great bubble of happiness to swell in his chest. Sirius was free … Snape was fuming … and Dumbledore had made sure that no one could ever trace it back to Harry and Hermione.

He could hardly fight down the smile threatening to break across his lips. Only when the hospital doors flew open did he school his features. Snape’s snarling face loomed over him, but for the first time in three years, Harry didn’t mind facing the Potions Master. If Snape was in the hospital wing, then he wasn’t skulking around, connecting the disappearance of Buckbeak with Sirius’s escape.

Miles away, Sirius and Buckbeak were flying south away from the dementors, away from Azkaban. Sirius let out a whoop of joy that was lost in the rushing air. He was finally free. True, most of the wizarding world still believed him a mass murderer, but that wasn’t important. Dumbledore knew the truth … Remus knew … Harry knew, and that was all that mattered.

Weeks later, Sirius dropped onto the sandy wooden floor of the ramshackle hut with a blank sheet of parchment perched on his thigh, and a bottle of ink and quill made from one of Buckbeak’s discarded feathers clutched in his hands. A hot breeze blew in from the ocean, scattering the sand across the rickety floorboards. The thick leaves of the palm trees scratched against the thatched roof, and the branches bearing coconuts creaked in the high wind.

Some feet away in a clearing, Buckbeak was chasing a poisonously green snake. The hippogriff snapped his beak furiously and lifted his head, as if to show Sirius that he had defeated the bothersome serpent. For a few moments, Sirius stared out across the choppy ocean waves, savoring the sights, sounds, and smells of freedom.

He’d been locked away in a tiny cell for so long that he had forgotten the feel of a summer breeze and the smell of fresh air. He’d been constantly taunted by the rough waves of the North Sea crashing against the fortress, but he’d forgotten the beauty of the slowly churning topical ocean and brightly colored fish streaking through the clear water.

The longer he was away from Azkaban, the more memories returned to him. The smallest things triggered the remembrances. Just that morning, he’d been watching the clouds morph as they passed across the small island and he’d suddenly remembered how Regulus and he used to lie on their backs all afternoon watching the changing clouds and pointing out the formations of dragons and grindylows. At night, the mating call of an exotic bird reminded him of James’s snore, and that had made him laugh so hard that he’d fallen out of the hammock.

Sirius looked down at the blank parchment draped across his knee. He knew if he didn’t start writing soon, he would daydream until the sun set and the air turned cold. It was tempting to forget all the troubles of the real world and just remember the happy moments that the dementors had stolen from him, but Dumbledore had asked Sirius to keep in contact, and he couldn’t write without the sunlight.

His hand hovered over the parchment for a moment too long and a great blob of ink splattered across the page. It reminded him of something … a Transfiguration essay he’d left until the last minute.

He was sitting in the Hogwarts library, staring at Dorcas Meadowes’s shapely figure and had smeared ink all across his first paragraph.

“Honestly, Padfoot,” James had sighed. “It’s an essay about human transfiguration. If you can’t even write the essay properly, maybe I shouldn’t teach you how to become an Animagus.”

Sirius had snapped out of his daze, frowning slightly at his friend. “You aren’t teaching me! We’re learning together!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve all ready mastered it and you’ve only grown a tail and ears …”

A slow smile stretched across Sirius’s thin lips. Dumbledore could wait until tomorrow. He had a more important letter to write. Sirius dipped the quill into the ink again.

Dear Harry …


Chapter 3 - Grimmauld Place

Escape
Chapter Three
“Grimmauld Place”

Despondent was the only word Tonks could think of to describe the house and the person living in it. The derelict building had once been a palace to the family living there, but over the years had decayed until it was a mere shell of its former splendor.

As for the man living there, he wasn’t much better off. Tonks leaned against the doorjamb, watching her cousin drown his frustration in another bottle of firewhiskey. Like the house, he was only a shell of his former self. He stared into the empty fire grate with haunted gray eyes and a blank expression on his once handsome face. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week, and the pile of empty firewhiskey bottles next to the sink confirmed that he had been spending his days sulking and alone.

Tonks didn’t need to ask what he was thinking about to know. Just outside, twenty steps from where he sat, spring bloomed in England. A breeze wrapped London in cool arms, bringing with it the sweet scent of nectar and freshly cut grass. Birds flying back from winter migration chirped welcoming songs to one another while children set free from playrooms shrieked happily in the parks all across London. And sitting in the dark, musty kitchen of Grimmauld Place was Sirius Black.

It was so sad, Tonks thought. Sirius had been a prisoner all his life. Even as a free man he wasn’t really free. The bars of a cell door were gone, but the accusation of murder still locked him away from the rest of the world. He was confined to the place he had never truly called home, unable to help the Order of the Phoenix in any way that he found acceptable.

When Tonks had gone home to visit her parents after joining the Order, she had told her mother about Sirius’s innocence. Andromeda had cried. It was the first time Tonks had ever seen her mother cry. They had spent the entire night in the attic looking through old photo albums. For every picture, Andromeda had a story to tell about Sirius. Years ago, they had been as close as brother and sister, both outcasts and proud of it.

Sirius had been bold and brave, willing to die to protect his friends, wanting to prove that he was a Black in name only. Tonks could sympathize. Every now and again she saw her uncle Lucius at the Ministry. Every time, she felt the urge to shout at the top of her lungs: “I’m not like him! Look! I’m an Auror!” When her aunt Bellatrix and uncle Rodolphus had broken out of Azkaban, she had seen the way Madam Bones looked at her, perhaps wondering if Tonks could arrest her own flesh and blood. It had hurt. It still hurt when she remembered those suspicious eyes. The whole world looked at Sirius that way.

“Wotcher, cousin,” Tonks said, sitting down in the chair opposite Sirius.

The man started, slopping some firewhiskey down his robes. He hadn’t heard her come in, which was a rarity, as Tonks usually managed to knock something over and trigger Mrs. Black’s shrieks.

“Morning,” he mumbled, looking back into the grate.

Tonks sighed sadly. He was wasting away inside this decrepit house, which he had always hated. Why, why couldn’t Dumbledore see that? What was best for a man’s safety wasn’t always best for his sanity. One look at Mad-Eye Moody could confirm that.

“No one else here?”

“Nope. Hasn’t been since Remus left.”

Tonks bit her lip. That had been at least a week prior. She felt a pang of guilt. She would have to make sure to drop by more often, even if she didn’t have anything to report on. Andromeda would be livid if she found out Tonks had been so neglectful towards her only respectable family.

There was a moment of silence between them in which Sirius continued to stare into the ashes and Tonks chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She wanted to get to know Sirius, but she wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about himself. So much of his life had been stripped away in Azkaban. She didn’t know if he even had any happy memories left, and she was afraid of bringing up any subject that might cause him pain.

She felt a constriction her chest, an urgent need to make Sirius smile. He wanted so badly to help the Order. He was so willing to die for the right cause that he had forgotten there were also things worth living for. Her first instinct was to drag Harry away from Hogwarts for the day, but she knew she could never accomplish that. Not only would Professor McGonagall refuse to allow it, but ruddy Dolores Umbridge would jump on any excuse to expel Harry and truancy would be a good enough reason.

A sudden burst of inspiration came to her just at the moment when she ruled out bringing Harry to Grimmauld Place as an option. As each second ticked by, the feeble idea grew into a grandiose plan that Tonks was sure would be infallible. It was just so perfect!

“Fancy a walk in the park, cousin?” she asked.

Sirius glared at her, thinking that she was goading him. He had gotten enough of that from Snape and thought Dumbledore took extreme pleasure in lecturing him about staying inside the house as well.

Tonks didn’t cower from his harsh gaze. She was an Auror. A little Black sneering couldn’t put her off.

“Mum told me you were always up for a risky adventure. Getting soft with old age? Or don’t you care for being a dog anymore?”

Sirius’s eyebrows rose slightly, as if surprised that she was suggesting such a thing. He hadn’t expected the child of prefect and top student Andromeda Black-Tonks to have inherited the adventurous gene that randomly skipped around the Black family tree.

“Lucius Malfoy recognized me at King’s Cross station,” he said, taking another swig of firewhiskey. “It’s not really a disguise anymore.”

“Of course he recognized you. It’s not every day you see a great mangy dog hugging Harry Potter.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sirius’s mouth, but it faded quickly. “He and every other Death Eater will recognize me if I’m seen with you.”

Tonks sighed inwardly. He sounded so defeated; it was heartbreaking. Remus had told her that Sirius wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione thought it was too risky. It appeared that their good intentions had stung Sirius deeply. According to Andromeda, he had never turned down an adventure, even if it was sure to lead to serious bodily injury, as many Marauder escapades had done.

“What you need is a day outside with company unrecognizable to Death Eaters and Ministry of Magic employees.”

Sirius snorted. “Just where are we supposed to find company like that? It’s not like just any wizard on the street is going to take Sirius Black to the park.”

“First of all, don’t ever talk about yourself in the third person again. It’s creepy. Secondly, I thought you were supposedly top student in nearly all your classes,” Tonks answered. “You’re sure slow on the uptake, dear cousin.”

Sirius cast a bewildered look in her direction. On second thought, it didn’t seem worth the effort, and he turned back to the grate. She decided to try a different tack, as lethargy seemed to have touched his mind.

“Where are we going to find an unrecognizable witch? Where could we possible find someone that nobody in the wizarding world knows by sight?”

Sirius shrugged, clearly not interested in the answer. Tonks gawked at her cousin for a moment.

“I mean, where could there be a person capable of morphing into someone that no witch or wizard has ever seen before? Where could there possibly be a witch that could change her appearance at will, without the use of a wand or potion? How could anyone possibly go unnoticed by her colleagues and friends to spend a relaxing day outside with her cousin?” Tonks asked, sarcasm increasing with each question.

Sirius was regarding her curiously now, a new light sparkling in the gray depths of his eyes. He looked so much younger with the half smile on his lips. Tonks could almost recognize him as the man in her parents’ wedding photographs and playing peek-a-boo with herself as a baby in Muggle home movies.

“You’d do that for me, Tonks?”

The emotion swelling in his voice made Tonks want to pull him into a tight embrace and never let go. He hadn’t shown so much enthusiasm since Christmas, and even then it had waned quickly as Harry headed back to Hogwarts.

“What’s family for if not to change appearance randomly and risk death by leaving the confines of a stuffy old house?”

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh that Tonks had rarely heard before. Pleased with herself, she grinned back. Sirius looked alive again, like he was ready to conquer the world in a day.

“Say when I don’t look like myself at all,” Tonks said.

Sirius sat forward on the edge of his seat, watching intently as Tonks changed her appearance. She screwed up her face in concentration as her pink spiked hair became long rusty red waves, nose elongated, and lips thinned.

“When,” Sirius said, a moment later.

Tonks checked her reflection in the silver pitcher on the kitchen table. She was fairly horrified with the result. She looked studious and rule-abiding, two things she had never tried to look like before.

When Tonks set the pitcher down and turned towards the chair where Sirius had been sitting, she was met with the sight of a great shaggy black dog. Tonks tried to stifle the giggles threatening to leap out of her throat. Padfoot barked happily, his tag wagging his entire hind quarters and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He acted so much like a dog that Tonks didn’t wonder how he had eluded escape for so long.

“All right, Snuffles, let’s go.”

The glorious day seemed made just for Sirius. He rolled around in the cool grass, watching the fluffy clouds move languidly across the cerulean sky. Robins and sparrows swooped through the trees, building perfect nests while long caravans of ants marched dutifully along the edge of the pavement.

When he had recovered from his last burst of energy, he leapt to his four feet again. First he sprinted left, then double back around to bark at Tonks, and then dashed off again. He was quickly heading towards exhaustion for the third time, but that didn’t stop him from thoroughly enjoying this freedom. The day wouldn’t last forever, and Sirius didn’t need anyone to remind him how fleeting this break from Grimmauld Place would be. Just like in his youth, he embraced the mantra Carpe Diem: Seize the day. The words came out as booming barks, but he repeated the phrase over and over again, joy and elation spurring him to run faster and bark louder.

Tonks dropped onto a wooden bench, doubled over with laughter and tears streaming down her cheeks. She was laughing so hard that no sound came from her throat. She didn’t know if she should be happy at Sirius’s uninhibited behavior or downright horrified. Snapping at birds and barking incessantly weren’t exactly dignified behaviors. When he had bounded up to her with a stick clamped between his jaws, she had completely lost control of her giggles.

As other dogs passed, they barked insanely at the giant black dog that was lucky enough to escape their fate of collars and leashes. Some of the owners cast disapproving looks in Tonks’s direction, but she ignored them. She wasn’t about to put Sirius on a leash. Firstly, it would be cruel to stifle his freedom. Secondly, he was strong enough to rip her shoulder out of socket if he wanted to get away. She just watched Sirius loping playfully around the park, occasionally throwing a stick for him to fetch when he got bored with birds.

When the red sun began to sink behind the western horizon, Sirius collapsed on the ground next to Tonks. She peered down at him, her smile widening. He was lying on his side, his four legs sprawled out as much as a dog’s legs could sprawl. His side heaved and his tongue hung out the side of his mouth, but his gray eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Had a good day?”

Padfoot barked happily, his tail thumping against the ground, disturbing the newly blooming dandelions. The white puffs rose high on the wind and floated away. Sirius’s eyes followed their paths until the seeds escaped his vision.


Chapter 4 - The Death of Sirius Black

Escape
Chapter Four
“The Death of Sirius Black”

Albus Dumbledore stared at the small box and letter lying on his oak desk. All around him, magical instruments sitting on spindly-legged tables whizzed and spun. The newly reborn baby Fawkes was cooing a phoenix song softly from his bed of ashes. But Albus’s attention was focused on the box and the letter. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were strangely silent this afternoon. Perhaps it was the absence of Phineas Nigellus that subdued them. Or perhaps they sensed that Albus would not tolerate their chatter this day.

The great wizard was many things, but he was not a bitter old man. Yet he could not fight down the burning in the back of his throat as he studied the black velvet box with interlocking silver M’s and the heavy, neatly folded parchment. Usually, he was a veritable fountain of information, always working and learning. But today, Albus’s mind was blank except for one old Muggle phrase that Aberforth was fond of saying at the most arbitrary moments.

Too little. Too late.

It seemed months had passed since Harry Potter nearly destroyed the Head’s Office, but it was really only a week. The students had all boarded the Hogwarts Express earlier that day and the school had emptied except for the few professors like himself with little or no family to visit during the summer holiday.

The events in the Department of Mysteries felt like old memories to Albus. There would be widespread fear and panic now that Tom Riddle had revealed himself. But Albus couldn’t concentrate on that at the moment. All he could feel was the sadness settling into his heart.

Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of Sirius Black. Only a year ago, he had sat in front of Albus’s desk listening to Harry tell about Tom’s rebirth. Sirius loved his godson and would have done--no, he did--everything within his power to protect Harry. He had risked recapture and the dementor’s Kiss to see Harry through the Triwizard Tournament. He had gone into the Ministry of Magic itself, knowing full well that Albus could not have saved him had any witch or wizard not in the Order spotted him, to protect Harry.

A little over a two decades ago, Sirius had been one of the most valued members of the Order of the Phoenix, beyond suspicion and held in high esteem. He had been a living example of what Albus believed in most strongly: it is the choices that define the man, not the abilities. Sirius had been raised to value only purebloods and given the chance to learn Dark magic and gain powers beyond his wildest imagining. But he had become friends with wizards labeled blood traitors, Muggle-borns, and a werewolf.

It seemed like a century had passed since Albus had lectured eleven-year-old Sirius for slipping Exploding Chalk into Minerva’s desk. A smile tugged at the corners of Albus’s lips, but it was hidden by his silver beard. Albus had known then that Sirius was destined for greatness. Any first-year with enough nerve to prank Minerva McGonagall was Auror material.

Albus traced the crease in the parchment with the tips of his fingers. He had read the message and contemplated giving it to Harry. But Albus knew that it wasn’t a good idea. Harry hadn’t even begun the grieving process. To hand him the box and the letter would be tantamount to throwing stones at an angry dragon.

Slowly, he unfolded the letter. He didn’t know why he wanted to read it again. It only caused the bitterness to grow, but his fingers moved of their own volition.

To the family and friends of Sirius A. Black,

The Ministry of Magic wishes to extend its condolences to you at this tragic time. We also offer our sincerest apologies for the wrongful imprisonment of Mr. Black. New evidence has come to light that proves Mr. Black did not commit the murders for which he was imprisoned. As such, the Order of Merlin, First Class is forthwith stripped from Mr. Peter Pettigrew.

For his courage in the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry of Magic awards Mr. Sirius A. Black the Order of Merlin, First Class.

Sincerely,
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

With trembling hands, Albus refolded the letter. It was so inadequate and flippant that he found it hard to control the rage rising up. It was just like Cornelius to think that an Order of Merlin, First Class would right the wrongs done again Sirius. There was no mention that Bartemis Crouch, Sr. hadn’t allowed a trial, no mention of the strength it took to live with dementors for twelve years, no mention that Sirius was not a Death Eater … in other words, it said nothing about Sirius’s true character.

The medal sitting inside the black box caught the light of the setting sun and cast a pearly reflection onto the empty canvas where Phineas Nigellus usually sat. The flowing script etched onto the gold medallion read “Sirius A. Black; Order of Merlin, First Class; for bravery and sacrifice.” Well, a Gryffindor couldn’t ask for anymore, really. Still …

Too Little. Too Late.

Albus sighed wearily. The opening of the letter continued to torment him. To the family and friends of Sirius A. Black. The Order already knew that Sirius was innocent. He supposed he could give the letter and medal to Remus, but Albus didn’t think it would be any comfort. If anything, it would only serve to depress the man even more. Nymphadora wouldn’t want it either. She’d likely rip up the letter and throw away the medal, then regret it later.

Finally, just as the sun was settling behind the horizon, Albus decided who should receive the items. He hadn’t thought about her in quite a long time, but no one could truly forget her. She had been another student Albus deeply respected. Her courage didn’t come from acts of heroism or even moral fiber, as most Gryffindors’ did. Her bravery lay in her ability to open her heart and love freely without fear. It was a quality very few people possessed and one that Albus valued above all others.

The Headmaster stepped outside the gates of the Hogwarts Grounds fifteen minutes later with the box and letter tucked into his pocket. Hagrid waved farewell and Fang barked loudly as Albus turned sharply and Disapparated with a pop.

Next moment, he was standing in a sleepy village in southern Kent. Copses of trees lined the narrow, winding road that led into the village. A dilapidated old barn with windows black from dirt was all that remained of the original wizarding settlement. In the distance, lights twinkled from the windows of moderately sized homes. It was an entirely Muggle village except for one house at the end of Epperson Street, and even that home had electricity and a vehicle sitting in the drive.

Albus pulled the bell and waited patiently. Inside the house, a large dog bellowed and charged the front door. A familiar voice admonished the pet sternly before the door opened. The woman had aged since Albus had last seen her, but she was as beautiful as ever. Her dark hair and gray eyes were so reminiscent of her family, but like Sirius, she had chosen a very different path.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Andromeda Tonks exclaimed.

“Good evening, Andromeda. I hope I find you well. How is Nymphadora?”

Andromeda’s face fell slightly, but she recovered quickly. “She’ll be fine in a few days. But why are we talking on the stoop? Come in. Would you like some tea?”

When he nodded, she pulled out a cleverly concealed wand and went to work summoning cups and crumpets. Finally, she settled onto the couch across from the armchair Albus sat on.

“To what do I owe this visit?” she asked.

Albus put down the tea cup gently. Of course she would want to know why he had turned up on her doorstep after not seeing her for nearly a decade. He had expected the question, but did not relish giving the answer.

“Has Nymphadora told you about Sirius?”

The vestiges of Andromeda’s smile faltered, and she too set down her cup. She studied the intertwined fingers in her lap for a moment before nodding.

“Yes. When I went to St. Mungo’s to see her she told me that he … about what happened.”

She seemed to want to say more, but couldn’t find the words. Albus removed the letter and black velvet box from inside his robes and placed them on the coffee table.

“These arrived this morning. I thought you might want them.”

While Andromeda scanned the letter, Albus glanced around the room. Photographs of Nymphadora lined the mantelpiece, all of them with different hair colors and all knocking over the props inside the frame. A man with mousy brown hair and kind blue eyes, presumably Ted Tonks, was in several of the pictures as well.

The parchment rustled as Andromeda set aside the letter. She was examining the Order of Merlin medal when Albus looked at her again. A deep frown pulled down the corners of her lips and her eyebrows were knitted in consternation.

“It’s … well … he deserves …“ She paused for a very long moment. “It’s just too little, too late, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

She looked up at the headmaster, her eyes misty. Perhaps she wanted to say how sorry she was for having believed that Sirius was a murderer. Maybe she wanted to confess the guilt she felt for not visiting him during the past year. Albus couldn’t know what she was thinking, and she didn’t seem to want to tell him.

Silently, Andromeda slid the letter and box back across the coffee table. Albus held in his sigh. It seemed that no one was willing to accept the horribly inadequate words of the Ministry.

“Thank you for showing it to me,” she said quietly. “Not that I appreciate anything the Ministry has to say about Sirius, but all the same. At least I know that he’s earned the Order of Merlin, First Class that he’s deserved since the first war.”

Albus collected the items and stood up. Andromeda escorted him to the door, shoving the behemoth dog out of the way as they stepped onto the front porch.

“Do you know of anyone else who should see these?” Albus asked.

Andromeda thought for a long moment. As he suspected, most of the Blacks who had rejected their family’s pureblood mania had passed on or lost touch with their relatives.

“Everyone who ever believed he was guilty needs to read that letter and see that medal,” she said finally. “That’s the only reason I won’t keep them. More people need to know that Sirius Black was not a man created by his family, but by his own choices.”

A week later, Albus looked at the items for the last time. This time, the letter and shining gold medallion were obscured by his own old, wizened reflection. Argus Filch stood a few paces behind Albus, scowling and muttering. No doubt Filch had entirely different, less pleasant memories of Sirius than did Albus.

A few moments after Filch departed, Albus left the Hogwarts trophy room. He glanced over his shoulder one more time to make sure the items were in the best possible location. The framed letter had been attached to the back of the trophy cabinet with a Permanent Sticking Charm, and the black velvet box bearing the Order of Merlin, First Class medal was sitting between two trophies for Special Services to the School, one belonging to James Potter and the other to Harry Potter.

Satisfied, Albus let the door fall shut with a soft click.

The End
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