Sirius was already outside the gates when he felt the aftershock of magic. It was weak, but it still made the hair on his arms tingle. He looked over his shoulder at Hogwarts to see the new tower, but couldn't really tell which one it was. A heavy fog had moved in, which didn't help. The new tower either blended in too well, was invisible, or had some spell on it that made it seem like it has always been there, even to someone who knew Hogwarts like the back of his hand.
He had reluctantly allowed himself to be hustled off school grounds. Hermione had packed him a bag and he had slipped out in dog form. Once he was out of sight, he turned human again. He passed close enough to the hippogriff paddock to whistle to Buckbeak. Buckbeak was in the stable, but Sirius heard a shrill answer. With a sigh, he started into the trees.
It was cold and dry, so he became a dog again. It was warmer, and easier to run on the snow that way. The snow was crunchy under his paws, and the wind was shrill through the tree tops. He could smell wolves in the distance and after awhile of walking, he saw a small pack of them slinking away in the twilight. Their leader was big and gray and he gave Padfoot a keen look before following his small clan away. Padfoot was glad to see that Rosie wasn't with them before it occurred to him that the reason they had left so quickly was that they had mistaken his black form for hers.
He also passed some little cloven prints that sparkled more than the snow around them. A unicorn had passed through as well. That gave him some hope that the Morthahg was far away. Or at least far away from his cave. He had left in a hurry the night Buckbeak had been hurt, but there hadn't been anything to leave behind anyway.
Some snow had drifted up around the mouth of his cave, but that was fine. It would've blocked the wind from getting inside. There were no fresh footprints in it, but he sniffed the air carefully before going in. It smelled like it always had, so he sighed and trotted in. Once inside he was human again, and cast a light spell. It seemed twice as dreary now that he was alone. He sighed and cast a door spell to keep as much cold out as possible.
There was nothing else to do then, but unpack the bag. At least he was better prepared for camping out here this time. Hermione had wrapped some blankets around a jar of her magical fire, so he cleared off a small place and spooned some of the flames out into it for more warmth.
Next was some enchanted candles that burned in different colors. He didn't know what good that would do him, but it was probably all she had been able to get hold of quickly. There was all kinds of food bundled up too. Dobby had probably helped her with that. There was no other way she would've been able to stuff that much food away on her own. If she had been anyone else, she probably would've gotten Dobby to stow away in the bag for him, he thought with a smile.
He wasn't surprised to see a few books in there as well, though one of them was a Muggle romance novel that raised his eyebrows. The picture on the cover wasn't magical and it didn't move, which was likely for the best since it was indecent enough as it was. He wondered if it was hers and had gotten packed by accident. He wondered what she had been thinking if it hadn't been. The others were less startling. There was a book of poetry by someone he had never heard of, a guide to reading modern Ogham, a wayfarer's cookbook that promised over 300 recipes for things you might find to eat in the wilderness, and another Muggle book called The Count of Monte Cristo. It didn't have barely-dressed people swooning into each other on the cover, so he thought he might give it a look-see later.
Under the books was some extra clothes and a little toiletry bag with a comb, brush, toothbrush, razor, a little mirror, and some cologne in it. Poor Hermione, he thought. She really does try, doesn't she? And what the hell. Sprucing up every day will give me something to do for a little while anyway. He sighed again, looking around the cave. The stone walls might've been made of pure depression for all that they could close in around him. He couldn't believe he was stuck out here again.
Don't think about it yet, he told himself. You just got here. If you start pacing now, you'll be insane by morning. There was some paper and a quill in the bottom of the bag. What, no owl? he thought, trying to cheer himself up. The last thing in the bottom was a small violet bag with the same emblem on it that was on Dumbledore's office. It must be the keyport. He picked it up carefully, trying to quess what it might be through the fabric. It was heavier than it looked and felt solid. Sirius stashed it in a pocket in his sleeve in case he needed it in a hurry.
Then, the bag was empty. He folded it up and set it aside and sat looking into the flames for little while. He almost reached for a book before he decided to save them for later. You were in prison for years, he reminded himself. You know how to pass the time. There's no reason to get bored and crazy now.
Did I ever get out of prison? a more bitter thought asked. It's been years since and I'm still running and hiding and sitting hunched over in dark places wondering what I should do.
This isn't like that, he told the thought. I can do whatever I want. I just decided to take Dumbledore's advice on this one. That's all.
It still stung in his mind though, so Sirius got up and went outside, just because he could. Night was falling fast over the forest and he sank into dog form again. The deepening blues of the winter evening altered as his eyes changed, and a whole world of inaudible sounds and faint scents blew into life. What had been barren and miserable to human senses was glowing with life through a dog's perceptions. There were animals moving through the underbrush in the distance to his left and the smell of the wolves was still on the wind from the right.
Out of curiousity, he sent up a short howling cry and then listened. For a moment, there was only the wind, but then a faint call answered. As little as it was, it made him feel better. He wasn't entirely alone, even though he still wished that Buckbeak, or the children, or Esme, or Lupin, or any friendly face was there to talk to.
He took a short walk into the wind, watching his pawprints be swept away as soon as he lifted his paws. His path took him in a circle around his cave and he was just about to head back into the warmth, when a new cry caught his ears.
It was otherworldly enough to make his hackles bristle, but he trotted in the direction of the sound. The way was blocked by briar bushes, so he crept into the shadows of those. He could hear the sound of movement, of a large form rushing over the snow. He shrank down to keep out of sight as the sound grew closer.
It was Rosie, running hard and low to the ground. Her breath rolled out of her open mouth like steam. He had forgotten how large and menacing she really was. She didn't look to either side though, just charged forward at full speed. Toward Hogwarts, he realized. Last time she had nearly killed Hermione and disappeared with Raye. Maybe she'd been sent back to fetch Raye again. He couldn't warn anyone. He wasn't supposed to go back.
I can follow her, he thought, hurrying after on a little higher ground. I can follow to the edge of the trees. I can tell Hagrid if it looks bad. And if she does come back with Raye, I can see where she takes the girl… He had to hurry though. Rosie was fast and the wind would hide her trail. So he sprinted after her.