Part 4
The next morning was gray and prickling with cold. There was a rosy spot through the fog to the east that told Sirius that the sun had started to rise, but it was still very dark and cold in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He was crouched as Padfoot next to the blackened, rotten hulk of a reject pumpkin that had escaped the Halloween carving by looking horribly like Hagrid himself. Esme had levitated the frozen hippogriff to Hagrid’s door, knocked, then bolted up over his roof. Startled, Padfoot had bolted too and was now cursing softly to himself around the corner.
Inside the hut, he could hear Hagrid sobbing and crooning to his ‘poor baby’. There were crashing sounds as things were knocked over. Esme was nowhere in sight, and Padfoot wasn’t all that sorry. As soon as he had cast the Animagus spell and become the dog, he had noticed a change in Esme. It wasn’t something a human would notice, but his canine senses had picked it up at once. A dark miasma hung over her, as faint as the scent of perfume, but smacking of some long forgotten taint. He has nearly snapped at her when she knelt to put her belt around his neck like a collar. No wonder Buckbeak had hated her.
The mist was cold in his throat and he wanted to cough, but held it in. A long ten seconds passed and then Hagrid burst from the front door, a huge striped nightshirt flapping behind him. He was headed for the castle, still weeping loudly. As soon as he disappeared into the fog, Padfoot let himself cough his throat clear. Then, a sudden sixth sense warning rippled over him and he spun to snarl over his shoulder. It was pure instinct and Esme jerked to a halt two paces away.
“It’s just me, “ she said, holding her hands up placatingly. That was no comfort to him. Animals could sense evil, he knew, and in an animal’s body, he could sense it in her. He made his lips drop back over his fangs, but his shoulders still bristled. Esme stayed where she was.
She knows, he thought, glaring at her. Whatever is wrong with her, she’s used to it. She knows animals can’t stand her. That’s why she was so meek around Buckbeak and careful with me at first. I was too sick to notice this then.
“I have us a way in,” she told him, but then ducked behind the pumpkin with him. He recoiled from her as the ever-so-faint scent of whatever haunted her hit him. She gave him an annoyed sideways glance, as though she had expected better of him, then peered out into the fog again. Two dark shapes were coming towards them, but it was a moment before they were recognizable. Hagrid was back, dragging Madam Pomfrey by the arm. She was disheveled and clutching a fluffy robe that he hadn’t given her time to put on. She was also missing a slipper. They could hear her breathlessly trying to ask Hagrid what the matter was as he hauled her along.
Esme waited until they were out of sight around the corner, then sprinted for the castle walls. Padfoot ran with her, easily keeping up with her on four feet. He thought he knew just about every secret way in and out of Hogwarts and was curious which one she had discovered. He also wondered why she didn’t just go through the door. Suspicion began to coil in his stomach, but he couldn’t speak to her as Padfoot to ask her. She jogged around one of the Gryffindor towers and ran along the wall. Padfoot looked up to the one he knew Harry was sleeping in. The bright side was that he’s get to see his godson again, but there was still the matter of Esme.
She had never said what her business at Hogwarts was. The fact that she dressed like a Muggle hinted that she was on the run from the Magical World as well as he was. You’re being paranoid, an inner voice told him. After all, how long ago was it that YOU were trying to sneak into this castle with a mission no one would have understood? If it wasn’t for that weird aura, I wouldn’t mind, another part of his mind snapped. And it doesn’t help that the main reason any Dark magic-users have come to Hogwarts in the last few years in Harry. I’m not going to lose HIM too!
Esme stopped so suddenly he nearly ran into the back of her legs. She pointed upwards and he saw a window, opened just a crack. Kneeling, she held out her arms to him. He considered, but stepped into her grasp, even though unease still made his fur bristle. He made sure he could reach her throat if she tried anything, but all she did was put her arms around his middle. That same silver glow lit around her fingers and then they were gently floating upwards.
At the window, Esme pushed him in first, then stepped lightly after. It was Madam Pomfrey’s room, he guessed, judging by the empty bed and the slipper in the doorway. Esme fumbled in a pocket and produced the magic compass again. She whispered to it and it began to spin and glow in her palm. Whatever she had asked it to find must’ve been a toughie because it paused for long moment before shooting the laser beam at a cabinet across the room. Following it revealed a cupboard filled with dozens on neatly labeled bottled, sorted by color. The light beam had settled on an amber one in the back, which Esme plucked out with a flourish of her wrist and read the label aloud.
“For relief of cough and fever, mix three drops in a hot drink and take with meals until symptoms are gone. “That sounds like you, punkin,” She pocketed the bottle, close the cabinet up, and strolled out into the hallway. Not having a better plan, Padfoot followed behind her and the two made their way through the castle. He wondered if she knew where she was going and when it seemed she was heading straight for Filch’s office he decided she didn’t. He was on edge waiting for a ghost to discover them, or Peeves, or Filch himself. Finally a flicker of candle-cast shadow made them both freeze. Soft footsteps and softer voices came from the hallway ahead.
Padfoot lunged for the nearest door and Esme took after him. It wasn’t locked, thankfully and smelled strongly of dust and cat. It was pitch black inside with no windows, but Esme closed the door gently and knelt to listen. Padfoot scanned the dark room behind them. It was a storage room for the teachers, he assumed. It had some broken clay pots and a some rusted out cauldrons. Several broken desks and tables were piled to one side and a shelf of books missing their covers. The voices outside were drawing nearer and he turned to listen, too.
“It’s a shame to waste a spell like this on Longbottom,” a sneering young male voice said. “But if it’ll keep his stupid toad out of my bed, I’ll do it.”
“Well, it’s not a difficult spell,” a female voice simpered. “And its practically doing that dolt Neville a favor.” There was some unpleasant chuckling at this and then the speakers moved out of hearing .
“Poor Neville,” Esme said softly, standing up again. “Whoever he is.” Padfoot made a slow shift back to Sirius and rose stiffly to his feet as well.
“He’s an unlucky kid,” he told her, also pitching his voice low. “His parents are gone, he’s not very good at anything, and his toad keeps running off.”
“You know him then?” She tilted her head in a catlike way to look at him.
“......Not personally. I know of him...My godson is in some of his classes...” he hoped she wouldn’t read much into his pauses, but this news seemed to cheer her.
“Oh, I see. Well, this could be perfect.” Esme nearly chuckled. Sirius cast a light spell to look at her curiously. “I’ll be honest,” she said, rubbing her palms together. “I have a delivery to make and I don’t want anyone to know this person is receiving this item, so I have to be sneaky. You don’t have to help out, but if you did, you’d only owe me TWO favors...you know, after I nursed you back to health, saved your beasty buddy, and found you some medicine.”
“How can I say no when you put it like that?” he asked, grudgingly amused. And how could he? She had done all those things, after all. But the unease lingered. Her motives were still very much a secret. “But exactly what is it that you’re delivering?”
“This,” she pulled a vial out of her pocket. It looked like it was made of lead or some other dull metal. There was a seal across the stopper that he recognized as powerful containing spell. “And I can’t say anymore than that.” She dropped it back in the pocket and looked at him expectantly.
“What do you want me to do?” Sirius asked, brain humming to remember a Dark Magic item that would fit in a vial that size. There were a variety of potions and poisons, of course, and he had once heard of a Dark wizard who had kept a flesh-eating mist in a bottle. He had killed off several villages before being blasted to a red mist by the hag he had stolen it from and the results were blamed on the plague.
“Just tell me what you know about that Neville kid’s parents and we’ll call it even. Unless you want to roam around as a familiar to keep an eye on the hippogriff.” She looked at her gloves and made a sound of dismay.” I’ve ruined ANOTHER pair of gloves.”
Sirius looked and saw that the glow he’d seen around her fingers had burned through the leather gloves. She grumbled to herself, yanking them off. Sirius caught her wrists and held them up for a closer inspection of her fingers. Without his canine senses, the unwholesome aura was gone and he didn’t mind being close to her. On the middle finger of each hand she was wearing a tiny, plain ring. He squinted closer and saw that they were made of wood. Esme looked a little sheepish, but didn’t try to pull her hands away.
“In my line of work, you can’t go waving a wand around,” she said. “I deal with Muggles entirely too often. But if you make a hollow ring of maple wood and coil a unicorn hair inside it, well, no one’s the wiser.”
“Until you set fire to your gloves,” he added. Esme actually looked as if she blushed, but in the dim light it was hard to tell for sure.
“Nothing is perfect,” she admitted, pulling free. “Take your choice in hiding places. Too bad we weren’t passing a bathing room. We could both use a scrub after the camping we’ve done.”
“Agreed,” Sirius paced the room once. “That will have to wait until classes start and the halls are empty.” A sudden cough ripped from him and he tried to smother it in his hand. Esme tensed , listening at the door. HE hacked silently for a moment, a burning feeling going through his chest. After a short while, he got it under control and no other sound came from the hall, so the both relaxed. Esme pulled out the battered tin pot again. Sirius was by now convinced that her coat was enchanted to carry anything she shoved in the pockets. He was pretty sure Auntie Quilt was in there somewhere, too.
“Summon Hydraqua,” she said, tapping her middle finger on the side of the pot. Something began to materialize over it, sparkling blue. It faded and dripped into the pot with a little splashy noises. “A basic elemental summoning and a lousy one at that,” Esme told him. “It’s supposed to unleash a deluge, but as I am a truly rotten summoner, I get maybe, oh, two cups of water?”
“Bad at traveling spells, herblore, and summoning,” Sirius mused. “So what ARE you good at then, if it doesn’t offend you terribly.”
“Levitation,” she said with a grin. “Personalitification, and of course, battle magic. Nothing that requires years of proper study, I’m kept too busy for that.”
“Doing what?”
“A girl’s gotta keep herself fed, Cyrus. I do deliveries mostly. Usually weird stuff. Like last summer I had to haul 300 live poisonous puffer fish to some flea-infested corner of the Gobi desert for the main course at a hag convention. The idiot things kept trying to bite me...the fish, not the hags. “
Sirius felt a grin twitch at his mouth and wondered if she was pulling his leg. She sat down on the dusty floor and went feeling through a pocket on the inside of the coat. She pulled out the medicine that she had stolen and added a dose to the water in the pot. “It isn’t long until morning,” she said, handing it to him. “Until then, tell me what you can about the Longbottoms.”
Sirius didn’t remember much, but he sat down on an overturned cauldron to think about it. He hadn’t known Frank Longbottom very well, just that he had been an Auror and a well-liked man. His wife had been a dorm mate of Lily’s so he had a clearer memory of her. She’d been a sweet, giggly girl, but had once given him a telling off for a prank he’d pulled on one of her friends. She had called him mean, and at the time he hadn’t cared. Now that she was raving screamer in the Magical Malady ward though, he could feel a pang for her. He told what he could recall between sips of the warm water in the pot.
Esme listened quietly, absorbing all this and nodding occasionally as her fingers kept busy. She had produced a few sheets of paper, envelopes, and a very small quill pen that looked like it had come from a blue jay. It could write in different colors it seemed, because one page printed out in violet ink and the next was bright red. They were quickly dried and stuffed into envelopes and one was rolled into a scroll.
While he told her about the torture the Longbottoms had gone through, she kept pulling odds and ends out of other pockets. She had a thick strip of leather that looked as if it been cut from a belt, a picture of a mascara model torn from a Muggle magazine, a silver button shaped like an eye, and a pouch of something shimmery. Esme winced sympathetically upon hearing of the Crucio curse and placed her fingers on the leather piece as if it were the marker on a ouiji board. A concentration line appeared between her eyebrows and her two rings lit up. The leather began to glow as faintly as foxfire and she placed the magazine picture on top of it, lining it up so that the model’s perfectly made up eyes were against the leather.
She reached into the pouch and her fingers came out coated in a glittering blue gel. She smeared it over the picture, letting it soak though to the leather. The outline of the picture glowed bright, seeming to flame for a moment. Esme murmured more words, holding her hands poised over it. The paper crumpled and burned away to a few black crinkles of ash, releasing a marshmellowy smell. The picture of the model’s eyes had been burned onto the leather, but so close to the original color that the light would have to hit just so for it be noticeable,
“What is that?” Sirius asked finally. She pulled out a coil of what looked like the whiskers of an Asian dragon and a bone needle.
“A gift,” she said. ”For an unlucky child who’s lost too much already.” She held up the bone needle carefully and began to stitch the silver button over one of the pictures’ eyes. Outside, they began to hear more feet and voices as students began to shuffle to the great hall for breakfast. Esme conjured up a box to stash her creation in, and as an after thought whipped out a new letter and tucked it in with it. Sirius put her belt back over his head to change back to Padfoot and then there was nothing left to do but wait out the crowd.
Finally, things became quiet in the hall again and they peeked out the door. Padfoot sniffed the air for an scent of Filch or Mrs. Norris and then lead the way to the Gryffindor bathing rooms. Esme gave him a wink and dashed into the girls room. He sneaked into the boys room quickly. All he really had to worry about now was that one of the ghosts would drift through and spot him. Nearly Headless Nick had better manners than that though. He used his big paws to start some warm frothy water flowing and soon, found himself facing a steaming bath. He wasn’t quite sure where to start.
He was tempted to just go in as Padfoot. Being in his human form in this place made him nervous enough without the added vulnerability of being naked in a bath. He’d been on the run so long, he didn’t like to be anywhere he couldn’t escape from quickly. On the other hand, he’d been in the forest for weeks, been cold and filthy for longer than he wanted to think about, and the bath looked like heaven. Before he could change his mind again, he threw off his ragged clothing and hopped in.
And the Daily Prophet’s new headline will read: Longtime Felon Sirius Black’s Makes His Most Recent Escape Wearing only Bubbles! he thought wryly, oohing and ahhing at the hot water.The two witnesses to this notorious criminal’s visit have both died. Professor Minerva McGonall promptly perished of critical moral outrage at the sight, while a second professor, one Severus Snape, also died from massive internal ruptures caused by the hysterical laughing fit he suffered as a result of witnessing the spectacle.
It was impossible to hold on to a bad mood in the bath, though. The warmth was delicious and the bubbles smelled like vanilla. He let himself enjoy a long soak before beginning to scrub. Around him, the water began to turn gray from the filth coming off him. After he rinsed out his hair, it was almost black, so he climbed out and went hunting for a towel. He found one that only slightly damp and was toweling away when a light knock at the door made him freeze. Esme’s voice floated in.
“How’s my wittle puppy?” she called. The door knob turned. “Decent or not, here I come!” Sirius hastily wrapped the towel around his middle as she barged in and meant to chew her out, but the change in her appearance was so startling he forgot to. She had put a curl spell on her hair and it now hung in ringlets around her shoulders. She had shed her Muggle wear for a simple witch’s robe in a shade of green that made her hair look more red. She had made herself up and smelled faintly of peaches.
“There’s a laundry cart in the girls’ room if you want to toss your clothes in. We can liberate them later.” she said cheerfully, putting on a pair of small hoop earrings.
“Is that where you got THAT?” he asked, nodding towards her dress. She shook her head, making the curls bounce.
“Oh no. This is mine. It had gotten a bit tight now, I’m afraid, but I can’t make an entrance in my street clothes.” She stooped to gather up his clothes as she spoke. “Now, if you’ll get yourself into shape, we can make our introductions and see about getting some real food for once!”
She carried his clothes out before he could protest, leaving him with nothing to do but turn back into Padfoot. The tub was angrily gargling away the dirt and hair he’d left in it, so he nosed Esme’s belt back over his head and trotted out to meet her in the hallway. When she reappeared, he saw that the miasma hadn’t been washed away and sighed to himself. It was going to be hard to be around her like this.
They wandered down to the main office and hung around until they were noticed by Professor McGonall. Esme turned on the charm full blast for the stern professor, bouncing up on her toes in a perky way and introducing herself as Marianna Trenchtoe, a delivery witch for the Fazarie Near-and-Far Delivery Service.
“We deliver to eight different dimensions!: she chirped. “Specializing in rare or fragile deliveries too vital to be trusted to owls. I have four items today...” She scanned a list she had drawn up earlier convincingly. “Letters for Madam Barbara Yaga and Sir Edwin Ficus, and packages for a Miss Lorelei Zephyr and a Neville Longbottom. Could you direct me to them, ma’am?” Years of teaching had given Professor McGonall a good grasp of lie-detection and she narrowed her eyes, studying Esme carefully. Padfoot had laid down next to their feet to keep a literally low profile. Another crowd of students were coming down the hall and he perked his ears hopefully, looking for Harry.
“You may certainly leave them in the teachers’ staff room,” McGonall said crisply. ”And they can be picked up there.”
“Oh, for these two that’s fine!” Esme/Marianna bubbled, handing over a large green envelope and a small scroll. “But I need to get signatures for the packages. Is there anyway I could-EEK!” And she quickly shoved McGonall backwards as something shot between them like a cannon ball. It plowed straight into the crowd of students and knocked a boy flat. It was a large and panicked-looking toad. The boy wheezed for breath and the toad made a mad dash away from him. It got about five jumps away before some invisible force picked it up and sent it hurtling back towards the fallen boy. This time it smacked into his head, knocking him to the floor again.
A group of students howled with laughter while a few others ran to help him up. Somehow the toad had survived both impacts and was wobbling around, only to be pulled back towards the child like a magnet. Professor McGonall rushed over to snatch the toad up before it hit him again, but it jerked from her hands to smack into his chest. “What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, a little wide-eyed from her close brush with it as it soared by.
“At least he won’t lose it now,” laughed a pale blond boy as he led the most amused of the crowd by the mess. The snickered their way into the Great Hall. McGonall pursed her lips and gave the toad a tap with her wand. There was a sound like a balloon popping and this time when it ran for it, it wasn’t dragged back. The boy had tears in his eyes and was trying to draw breath as he was heaved back to his feet.
“Mr. Longbottom,” The professor said so sternly that he actually cringed and looked up at her with shaking hands. “I didn’t-” he started to say, but she cut him off. “Of course not, but you have a delivery.” She waved a hand towards Esme, who was looking slightly aghast. Sirius could see a repressed smile in the corners of her mouth, though. Neville sniffled and walked over nervously. He was probably dreading something from his Grandmother, Sirius thought. Esme gave him the sunniest of smiles and stooped to hand him the blue box.
“All the way from New Mexico,” she told him. “You must be having a birthday or something, huh?
“No...not for awhile...” Neville took the box and gave it a curious shake. Esme’s kindness seemed to cheer him.
“Well, a present for no reason is every bit as good as one with a purpose!” she chuckled. She produced a small card and handed him the blue jay quill pen. “Sign here for me, sweety, and we’ll be all done.” Neville scrawled out his name and shyly thanked her. She dimpled at him and waved as he hurried into the Hall with his box. Professor McGonall looked a bit warmer towards Esme after that.
“Can you tell me where to find Ms. Zephyr?” Esme asked again.
“She’s in the infirmary,” McGonall finally admitted. “And not to be disturbed at this time.”
“Oh goodness,” Esme looked sorry to hear that, but something fiercer flickered in her eyes. “I hope it’s nothing too serious! When do you think would be a good time for me to try again?”
“I can sign for it,” a new voice said, and Sirius ducked behind Esme’s robe as Snape came padding quietly up the corridor. Esme blinked at him for a moment. She drew breath to speak and then seemed to change her mind.
“Are you a relative of Ms. Zephyr?” she asked, not quite as brightly as before. She held up a cigar box-sized package and turned it to show a seal on the lid. “Because it is bound with a blood seal.” Sirius didn’t remember seeing that particular box with the things she’d been working on, but he recognized the seal as the same one on the vial. Snape glanced at her and looked at the seal. Then, slowly, his eyes went back to Esme. His eyebrows sank down over his nose as his piercing eyes fastened on her face. Her eyes widened a trifle and then she quickly winced and turned to give Sirius a light swat on the head.
“Ouch! Fumbles!” she scolded.” Don’t nip! I’m hurrying!” Puzzled, Sirius growled softly at her, a little angry that she had called attention to him to save herself. Snape seemed to notice him for the first time and was leaning around her to see him. I WILL nip her next time, he thought, fuming as he moved to keep her between them. He was saved by the sudden appearance of Crookshanks, who mewed happily and began to twine around his legs. Hermione was close behind him and she gasped when she recognized him. Sirius trusted her not to let on, and sure enough, she caught herself quickly.
‘Crookshanks!” she said, covering her mouth with one hand. “You...silly cat! Not all dogs are so friendly! You might have been bitten!” She knelt beside him, further blocking Snape’s view of him, and gave him a sheepish pat on the head. “I’m sorry!” she whispered to him and then said louder: “He IS very nice...What’s his name?”
“Fumblefoot,” Esme smiled, her eyes quick over Hermione. “You should’ve seen him when I first got him! No bigger than this!” She held up her cupped hands, tucking the Zephyr letter under her arm. Snape’s eyes followed it. “He was all feet and ears then, and couldn’t walk two steps without falling over one of them! It was cute. Who knew he grow into this monster?” She rubbed his ear and have his head a ruffle. “My sweety boy.”
“Well, I think he’s...very nice...” Hermione was obviously mortified that he was being treated that way. She patted his shoulder, looking so embarrassed that Sirius felt sorry for her. He thumped his tail for her to let her know he appreciated it. “Ron!” she called. “Harry! Come see! If you thought that white dog was big come see this one!”
Sirius felt his spirits lift as his tousled godson and the Weasely redhead appeared in the crowd. They both gaped at him and then at Esme who was taking this in quietly. He was relieved to see that she had no reaction to the sight of Harry, who was looking from her to him uncertainly.
“Er, where’d you get a dog like this, ma’am?” Harry asked her. She gave her curls another toss.
“At the Getting Place,” she told him, winking one blue eye. “If you’d like to take him along, he’s probably tired of waiting for me. I can find him later.” Sirius wagged his tail and got up to go even as Professor McGonall was opening her mouth to disapprove of strange dogs roaming the school. Esme cut her off by stepping in to ask again for a delivery time and Snape stepped in again to claim it . In the confusion, Sirius hurried off with the children into the Great Hall. The smell of bacon and maple syrup hit him and he had to swallow hard to keep from slobbering. He whined softly, but Harry and Ron were already piling a plate high for him. They set it on a chair for him and he all but dove into it.
Flavors ran together and he savored each one. Food, food, food! his brain sang. Not raw forest fuzzie, not warm sludge, but honest-to-goodness, solid, warm, food! He tasted pancakes and scrambled eggs both covered in maple syrup, a blueberry muffin, some bacon, applesauce, hash browns with ketchup, a biscuit with berry jam, and whole pile of sausage. It was gone in only a moment, but then Hermione set a new one down.
“Eat,” she said. “You look terrible.” He dove in again, taking a second to chew this time. He could hear them murmuring over him and knew they wanted to ask him why he was there and who Esme was and all that. It would have to wait though! He was eating.
“He really does,” Ron muttered to Harry, apparently thinking Sirius couldn’t hear him. “He’s thinner than he’s ever been.”
“You got a dog?” a strange voice asked and Sirius turned his eyes without taking his face out of the dish to see a petite girl he didn’t know. She had very long black hair in a braid looking down at him. A bright-eyed kid wearing goggles was holding her hand. Sirius kept eating noisily, inhaling a buttered scone and licking marmalade off his nose. They both cooed over him and petted his back, the little boy offering him a slice of grapefruit which he ignored until his plate was empty again. He only looked up when an explosion of white light came from outside the hall. Everyone else was looking too, and then a crowd of strangers bolted by all talking at once.
“It’s the teachers that went to clean up Elmskill,” the girl with the braid said, her hand still on his neck. “That didn’t take long.” She hurried towards the door, and the rest followed, Sirius falling into step next to Harry. They peered out into the hallway and saw an old wizard with a very tall, ornate cane shouting at Snape who was still in mid-argument with Esme and McGonall.
“Isn’t that your Headmaster?” Hermione asked the other girl and Ron shushed her.
“Potionmaster!” the cane man bellowed. “Fetch Ms. Zephyr here at once!”
“She is not well,” Snape hissed back. Esme had taken a quick step to put herself slightly behind McGonall, who was looking shocked at such rudeness. A small gasp has come from the girl with the braid, but Sirius was watching Snape and Esme.
“She’ll be worse if she isn’t here within two minutes time!” the Elmskill Headmaster slammed his cane down on the floor. “This is vitally important and her absence only compounds the problem! Bring her here!”
Dumbledore had appeared somehow in this mess and was holding up his hands to keep Snape from retorting. He glanced at the children in the doorway and then said loudly that the hallway was no place for respected teachers to shout at each other. He motioned everyone towards the teacher’s staff room and pulled Snape aside as the others went in. Snape glowered all the more darkly but gave a resigned nod and turned to storm to the infirmary door. Then, Dumbledore turned to the children who had gathered there.
“Your classes will begin in 10 minutes,” he told them. “Care of Magical Creatures isn’t it? Hagrid has a more pressing task today, so you’ll have a substitute and you may need your strength, so I advise you to finish your breakfast.” His eyes lingered a moment on Sirius, but then he turned to go inside the staff room.
“We’ve got a lot to tell you,” Harry murmured to Sirius, kneeling to pretend to tie his shoe. “You want to wait in our dorm until class is over? We have a free afternoon since Divination is now only every other class. There’s too many of us to fit in that attic now.”
He didn’t really want to let Harry out of his sight now that he was close, but Sirius decided that it was probably the best plan for now. He didn’t want to make himself too obvious after all. So, he gave Harry a friendly nudge and walked with Ron to the Fat Lady Painting. The new password was gollyfluff, and when the painting swung open, Sirius trotted up the stairs to lay on Harry’s bed. It suddenly occurred to him that Esme had disappeared somehow before the teachers had gone into the staff room, but he was so full, and warm, and for once, clean, that he dozed off before he could even worry about it.
Story and art by me!