Students of all houses had a hangover: kids were celebrating. Interestingly, everyone had in their stashes something to mark the outstanding event. If anyone could look in turn into all common rooms, they'd see "holiday sets" didn't differ much: butterbeer and firewhiskey. Except in quantity. Gryffindor and Slytherin clearly led ("lion cubs"—in beer, and "snakes"—in whiskey), the rest were much more modest. In snacks, naturally, "badgers" surpassed everyone, which is unsurprising: the kitchen's nearby.
Harry barely managed to dash into his room, grab something from under the pillow, stick it behind his belt and settle in the toilet. No other places for privacy shone for him today. And here too...
"Harry, are you coming?" two in chorus. Twins, definitely. Even tugged the door.
"Ugh," he spat mentally and wheezed fakedly, receiving in response:
"Ah... alright, hurry up," another voice demanded.
"In your face?" he couldn't stand it. "You have nowhere to sit yourselves?"
Behind the door they giggled and finally left.
And Harry pulled from behind his belt the protean notebook—the only possibility to explain something to the professor. That is, professors.
"What to write? Need faster, faster..." As if on purpose, nothing came to mind. He sighed and tried to imagine himself in Snape's place.
"Oh, he now has a whole house buzzing, and Malfoy there at hand, how he'll start questioning... ah, right, Malfoy!"
His hand began writing by itself: "Malfoy believed you're his Patronus."
Harry looked at the page and smiled: came out well. Short, and all the most important. Now can celebrate! Not forgetting about tomorrow, of course.
***
"Just think, I'm a Patronus," Snape hadn't been in such confused feelings for a long time. "But Draco Malfoy? Something I don't understand... And something whispers to me Potter's involved here," he thought, leaving his own house's common room after explaining intelligibly to his charges what awaits them if they go even slightly beyond frames known to them.
Just at this time in his left trouser pocket the notebook warmed. One glance at a single phrase was enough for everything to clear up.
"Well of course, I'm Potter's protective beast... Devil, demon and all mythical unclean force..."
'At least admit to yourself it's pleasant,' sounded inside his own voice. 'And appreciate what effect it had!'
"Devil take this effect. And how now to teach Potter to mask a formed Patronus if I myself never tried this and only know the principle?" he answered, pondering whether to greet his own split personality or wait a bit longer.
Had to admit Potter's a fine fellow, a real Slytherin. At least he fooled Malfoy simply magnificently, and not only him. And most importantly—in time. But would be useful to know details.
The split personality was silent, apparently fully agreed.
Snape turned around, sweeping cloak hems, and headed back to the common room. There continued quite decorous, though clearly above degree, aristocratic celebration, but no one was particularly surprised by his return. He beckoned Malfoy. Draco immediately flared his ears, and red spots appeared on his cheeks...
In the Head of House's office Malfoy, who'd sat on the edge of the armchair, greatly surprised: he began uncertainly and very clumsily apologizing. Snape even had to interrupt the poor thing so he wouldn't suffer, and congratulate on victory, albeit a half one. This proved quite sufficient for the boy to be taken aback by surprise.
"Tell me," the Head calmly said, and Draco calmly laid out everything as if at confession. The guy actually had long wanted to share, especially with the one who personally taught him this very Patronus! Maybe that's why he became his Defender?
To such assumption the professor only shrugged, simultaneously seeking in impudent and at the same time curious light-gray eyes of his charge details interesting to him. Had to act carefully, Malfoy isn't Zabini, whom the older generation doesn't particularly care about. But reading recent events straight from memory through ordinary visual contact proved even too simple. Moreover managed to do this completely unnoticeably even for mental protections hung on the sole heir.
"Well yes," thought Snape, "since Draco himself just openly talks about this and doesn't matter what he believes at this moment, main thing—he's open and doesn't consider it necessary to conceal something. And what does he have to hide?"
About Severus Snape Draco had heard before admission to Hogwarts. Though the Head is a half-blood, aristocrats had long appreciated what he did ten years ago and continues to do for their children and the whole house, except weren't rushing to tell him about it.
Snape long ago proved he's of the same blood, even if only half: he not only knew some unconditionally important nuances, he understood them. Which means could quite be considered one of them. And kids naturally were aware who in Hogwarts they can trust.
So now Snape could not without pleasure view what happened "through his student's eyes," true, didn't get carried away, and there wasn't particularly much there.
"Atta boy Potter... Not for nothing did the Hat offer him Slytherin, hasn't lost her mind yet the old purse! This gladdens, but the boy almost let us all down. And what to do with him now?"
He carefully exited the student's memory, cautiously removing traces of his presence, portrayed thoughtfulness, then awarded satisfied Malfoy as many as twenty points (mentally presenting before himself a completely different student) and let him go. Let him celebrate, deserved it.
But what did Potter deserve? A dressing-down? And for what, exactly? Who's to blame that this boy has everything askew: and animagus form probably the only one in the world—a dragon, and now Patronus—a person. And let it be just a person, even Merlin or even James Potter! But no, it's him, Snape. That's how the boy perceives him. Defender... Is he really—worthy?
Snape sighed and poured into a glass the remains of "Glenmorangie." Well, he also deserved a bit of holiday... Especially tomorrow he'll have to get Potter off from his company with some next unfair punishment (what storm this should cause on the scarlet-and-gold house, which is very successful!), then drag himself with him to search for his flea-ridden godfather.
And then possibly also bind the thrice-damned dog and put him somewhere. The last strained most of all, the rest was solvable. But shouldn't postpone—dementors' appearance over the stadium during the game clearly indicated danger. And not only for Black.
Learning to hide Patronus form himself and then train Potter seemed quite routine task compared to this.
Again remembered the epic appearance of Patronuses. No, still both boys are fine fellows...
So Draco Malfoy's Patronus is a hippogriff. In any case it turns out he's a strong wizard, so prospects are simply excellent. By the way, why not please his daddy? Of course about the form he won't tell him yet, but will please with information about an effective Patronus conjured by the guy in quite difficult situation.
He approached the fireplace and threw there a pinch of powder, quite a bit, only for connection...
And in a few minutes illustrious Lord Malfoy kept him company in marking today's holiday, because decided his holiday is no worse. And thanks to his son's Head for such pleasant news.
Malfoy senior, stretching legs toward the fireplace, sipped cognac and wasn't rushing to share his thoughts. He easily understood Snape wasn't telling something, but wasn't hurrying to pry it out. They're comrades in any case now. Which means when need comes, he'll learn everything. And quite approved reasonable caution of his son's Head. Who'll keep a secret, it's him.
***
Sirius Black, more precisely, a huge black Irish wolfhound, sighing heavily, tried to settle on a pile of fallen leaves he'd raked into the cave and used as bedding: still not so cold and hard. Grumbling of empty stomach didn't let him sleep—he tossed almost all night, dozing only briefly toward morning. And now a new day—freezing, gray and dreary.
And with empty belly had to do something. Human mind with difficulty broke through dog's sensations and reflexes. Had to go get food. But how? He couldn't properly hunt... Several times tried catching rabbits, but the eared ones were too nimble and gave no possibility to catch them.
Sneaking on frozen earth and dry crunchy fallen leaves—generally a dead end, sitting or lying in ambush—cold: he quickly began shivering and simply couldn't stand it, got up and left. But quite penetrated the hardship of "free beast life." Just think, once he and James reasoned how romantic and great it is to be a free forest predator. Finally he understood why Lupin looked at them like that then. And they wanted to support him...
In memory spontaneously, in fragments, surfaced old memories, for which he was quite grateful—they helped him preserve humanity in himself. What foolish children they were then! Yes, and some memories better not surface, such shame he felt after this.
Then he remembered how Lupin mentioned that most wolves in nature feed on mice. How they laughed then! And now this proved almost salvation.
Forest mice turned out a bit slower than rabbits, most likely due to short paws, but too cautious. True, a couple he still caught and ate, but this helped little with hunger. Rather even opposite. And when tried to enter the Forbidden Forest, had to run with tail tucked: centaurs didn't appreciate friendly attempts of a huge toothy dog to get closer acquainted with their foals.
Will have to beg, he saw no other way out. Except try to steal something. Before eyes rose an old and not very clean table in "Hog's Head." Merlin, what pork there was! The dog almost howled, and mouth filled with saliva. Forward, to Hogsmeade!
Having gone around all more or less profitable places that turned out still closed, so had to enter from the yard, Sirius understood charm wasn't his strong suit anymore. He began sniffing rare morning passers-by: maybe someone will agree to throw something to a dog?
Something he got: a snowball. Then dodged a cane and with difficulty suppressed offended growl: guessed, more precisely, sensed that his protest won't be understood and appreciated. The world was cruel.
But then schoolchildren appeared in Hogsmeade. Someone was scared of him, especially girls, but not for long: most of them still couldn't ignore hungry dog's eyes. They threw him sandwich remains, pies and even pastries. They patted him on the head, and he searched among this crowd for that one boy, whom he wanted to serve the rest of his life... But he wasn't there. There wasn't even anyone on whom his scent would be at least slightly guessed...
Three ginger guys who seemed familiar to him caused a quiet growl deep in throat, but a curly light-haired girl who was feeding him another pie flinched and asked offendedly what he's dissatisfied with. Scaring a benefactress was wrong and ugly, she clearly still had something left in the package, and he fell silent, following the ginger trio with wary gaze.
Gradually there were fewer and fewer children on streets, and the dog had strange and not very pleasant sensations in stomach. Apparently fatty fried dough proved not the best food after several days' starvation. He burped a couple times. Seemed better... And then he simply threw up in neighboring bushes.
How disgustingly he felt! In belly again rumbled from hunger, and also ached, at least the day turned out surprisingly warm—ice didn't completely seize local puddles, and breaking it with paw was easy. The dog could at least drink. Didn't care about unsanitary conditions in principle long ago.
Day was ending, streets completely emptied and counting on handouts no longer made any sense. But rummage in tavern backyards... Paws themselves carried him to the place dreamed of at the very beginning.
Near Hog's Head he unexpectedly collided with some girl who at sight of him wheezed shrilly and immediately settled right on cold ground. Something rang, exactly like broken glass, and from under the girl's bag began flowing reddish familiar-smelling liquid. He involuntarily licked his lips.
***
Harry, who'd drunk the tracking potion, knew for sure: Sirius is now in Hogsmeade. Snape cursed through teeth: impossible to catch the dog in front of everyone! Harry listened and silently approved, memorizing some turns and pretending not to hear.
"Wait, Harry. We must wait. Either he'll finally leave from there, then can intercept him without outside eyes, or..."
"Or night will come and we'll Apparate..."
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"That is you'll Apparate us, throw up a Silencing Dome, Sleeping on Sirius, under the arm and..."
"And where? Middle of night? To myself I definitely won't drag him, for Slytherin it'll be too much. And to you can't, too many questions will appear."
Harry sighed. Unlikely anyone will be glad if they slip them a wolfhound for keeping at night, even if they offer very politely.
"Even if asks a national hero," Snape continued his thought, unknown when having managed to climb in his head.
Harry looked reproachfully at the teacher.
"Don't gape, Potter, practice," Snape answered in habitually-grumpy "teaching" voice.
"But professor, at least with you sometimes I can relax?.."
Snape sighed. He understood the boy needed an outlet, but what if... His blood the headmaster most likely has, from that time when he studied here. And the rest most likely too...
"Exactly with me you shouldn't."
Harry bugged out his eyes:
"Why? With whom? How?.. Ah, Polyjuice... But you're always with this stuff on your hair... Why didn't I use..."
"Because you, as discovered in Smethwyck's laboratory, biological material is useless to take—it doesn't work, say thanks to the basilisk. But mine exists in at least one place."
"Ah, I see. What about aristocrats, for example Malfoy, he also should use something like that?"
"Naturally, he uses the same composition, I improved it myself."
"Why isn't his hair?..."
Snape snorted.
"Because those for whom appearance is important don't skimp on a small illusion. Or even more than one."
"And you..." Harry hesitated, not knowing how to continue so as not to offend the potioneer. Good relations are good relations, but shouldn't poke where not asked, he'd long clarified this for himself.
"Why would I?" he was surprised. "For me, the worse the better."
"Why?"
"Because school!"
"Didn't understand..."
"Since when did my appearance interest you? You didn't imagine..."
Harry shook his head with all his might, and Snape stopped.
"What if give him bulldog Polyjuice?" Harry preferred to change the topic.
Specifying to whom wasn't necessary—both their thoughts jumped to Sirius Black anyway, whatever they talked about. Though Harry was curious how Malfoy senior looks without illusions. Probably like Draco in first year...
"Then he must be conscious and drink this independently. And then take daily. Can you imagine this?"
"What if..." Harry hesitated. Actually no more ideas came to mind. And yes, Sirius wasn't one who could long follow at least one rule. Maybe a day or two he'll hold out, then definitely forget.
"I can Apparate closer to the Shrieking Shack, but to get into it, will have to walk three hundred yards. Even if put the dog to sleep, then wake, won't remain unnoticed. And time for talking I suppose will need plenty. And you'll be missed at the house in an hour and a half."
"Damn, damn, damn! Maybe try now, after all all students seems returned, time's up?"
"I wouldn't be so sure all returned."
"Under the Invisibility?"
Snape sighed. Harry was right, must act. And he suggested a suitable solution.
"Alright," he nodded. "Let's."
The boy didn't long rummage in his bag, extracting his artifact, then approached and simply gave it. Right into his hands. Snape swallowed from surprise: such class magical things he hadn't held in hands yet. But ponder and absorb the moment there was no time. He quickly threw on the cloak, immediately disappearing, and threw back the hem. Harry approached closer, firmly hugged him around the waist, burying face in shoulder and whispered:
"Let us be lucky. Please, let us be lucky..."
"What a boy he still is! Worrying... And we don't need this at all," Snape sighed to himself and put Harry's hand on shoulders, drawing even closer to himself before paired Apparition.
"Calmly, Harry. We'll do everything right. As soon as we see him, from you—Silencing Dome, from me—Sleeping. Ready?"
In a couple seconds they already fought stomach spasms on the backyard of "Hog's Head," and cold spread in the air around them.
They didn't even have to search for anyone. Harry who'd thrown up Silencing Dome immediately saw his godfather sitting almost embracing some girl on withered grass over which frost already began snaking. No time to wonder at the strange pair: pressed as heavy burden melancholy, longing, hopelessness... Why are they fussing, Sirius won't live anyway?.. Hands froze and seems soul—too.
But the professor was already lifting from the ground weakly resisting Black and that girl...
"No way, hell no! We won't leave anyone to creatures!" Harry grabbed godfather by the chest and shook. He opened mouth in amazement, which Snape immediately used, pouring something there and making him swallow it, pressing on his cheeks. Coughed and barked... already a dog, and now again the whirlwind of Apparition drew them in.
***
Sybill Trelawney couldn't wait for Sunday evening. Sherry remains sufficed only for hands to stop shaking a bit. Urgently needed to replenish stock. She tried to distract herself, but neither reading nor looking through old album helped, so in result she spat on everything and headed to Hogsmeade a bit earlier.
After all, until it gets dark she can sit over a glass in Hog's Head where usually there are never schoolchildren. The owner doesn't love them, doesn't love—and doesn't serve, which is very convenient for his other clients. By the way, kids should have already headed back to school. And she'll return only after curfew so as not to meet anyone in corridors.
Still Sybill guessed time correctly: children on village streets already almost weren't there. She really sat over a glass, and even more than one, looking either at the slowly darkening sky in the window or at the bright fireplace flame.
What a good person this Aberforth is, not at all like his brother! Absolutely indifferent to everything and everyone, simply fulfilling visitors' orders and asking them nothing. And his fireplace is excellent, big, can't take eyes off. As long as she remembered herself, always loved looking at fire. Wonderful person!
So she decided after the third glass and finally, swaying slightly, rose. Time to go if doesn't want to get to school in darkness. For some reason choosing the back exit, she left the tavern, holding a heavy bag hanging on her shoulder in which at each step quietly clinked.
Seeing Grim in twilight, she simply quietly lost consciousness.
***
Sirius was confused: no one had been so scared of him yet. But the smell beckoned. He approached closer and began lapping. No, the dog himself didn't find this so pleasant, but someone inside very wanted this. Simply demanded. And more.
Sybill woke from a wet nose poking in her cheek. And then a huge tongue with sherry smell passed over her face, removing glasses, moving hair from forehead... From surprise she sat up. Before her sat... more precisely, towered over her the most real Grim as she imagined it, but... it just licked her? She's not tasty! But couldn't scream: throat seized, ears rang, and body seems completely stopped obeying.
The dog was surprised when the woman huddled and issued a strangled squeak. He wagged his tail and endearingly (well, as he thought) looked at her. She looked so scared and miserable that he, whining shortly, lay down and, banging tail, carefully crawled a bit closer and put muzzle on her knees.
Sybill was taken aback but remembered Harry Potter...
"Oh, what if this is that very tame Grim he talked about?" flashed in her head, and she looked in dog eyes. She was thrown first into cold, then into heat, and after the world disappeared and only eyes remained... The dog's silhouette trembled and blurred, and now in its place she already fancies a person, thin, uncombed, shabby and a bit drunk, like herself.
In the next moment the fragile woman completely changed. Sirius watched mesmerized as patterned gray iris disappears behind inky-black pupil spots in which he drowns, drowns and can't surface, just as can't breathe, so suddenly it became terrible.
A hoarse male voice that can't belong to this fragile figure with thin neck, strange and terrible words he'd never hear in his life, but he understands either by sixth human sense or simply dog instinct that this is—about him.
"Guilty, but not in what was condemned for, escaped but not freed, will perish from native hand at the beginning of cold summer. No one, except only one boy will remember and blame himself for friend's death. He won't grieve long, only a few years that remain to him. The boy will follow, but by another road... If guilty perishes, boy will also leave..."
"Harry," Sirius croaked, involuntarily taking human form.
"Harry. School. Of course, he's at Hogwarts. Pettigrew's there. Revenge!" flashed in his head.
"Ra-a-at," he moaned-croaked, squinting as if from pain.
The Seer with inhuman force squeezed with icy fingers his wrist.
And now Sirius looks into the beyond blackness of her eyes and hears hot whisper:
"Don't go that road. Don't go. The boy..."
The Seer lacks breath, she falls silent, closes eyes, and the whole world freezes. And in the air appears cold and heaviness. She's scared.
With a loud pop someone invisible Apparates near them, they're grabbed, dragged somewhere up, another pop, stomach makes a dangerous somersault, but no time for this, she's dragged somewhere, have to run with all strength, but when she understands from whom they're running, legs already fly themselves—faster, faster!
The Whomping Willow didn't manage to orient: from one side—cold, from another—dangerous fireballs, from third—generally something incomprehensible...
This incomprehensible it let through. And then it split into four trembling silhouettes, but was too late: one of them pressed the cherished knot.
Some dungeon, Sybill is again dragged somewhere together with this dog... oh no, this isn't a dog at all but a person! No, completely different dog... Old couch strains with springs when her light body is almost thrown on it.
***
Snape, barely seeing what's happening, literally by force poured into Black that very "bulldog," otherwise they'd hardly manage to escape from the dementor. Thanks Harry. For fireballs too, but he'll tell him that later. Incredibly lucky only one dementor was there. However these creatures are capable of transmitting information to each other, which means the respite will be short.
He glanced how Harry arranges Trelawney and white bulldog next to each other on the old couch and stood at the door with wand ready. Harry joined a couple seconds later.
Silence. Creak of springs. Convulsive breath behind.
"Where am I?.. Who are you?"
"Miss Trelawney, sit quietly, I ask you," she hears a familiar voice, sobs and throws herself at Snape, embracing him from behind like a life preserver.
He winces and carefully frees the arm with wand.
"Miss Trelawney, can you summon Patronus?" Harry whispers nearby.
"Don't know... No, can't."
She sobs but takes out wand.
"I'm... a weak witch."
"Oh, you don't see anything probably," Harry catches himself.
"See a bit," she answers. "Not such terrible vision I have, but it's a secret."
This confession strangely somehow eases the situation a bit, even Snape smiles with corner of mouth. And Harry outright shakes her hand. Silence. Air is calm and doesn't get cold at all. Have they been forgotten? They wait, here more... Now... But nothing happens. Heart stops racing like crazy. Can breathe?
"Incredible," Snape whispers. "Though quite possible, some old charms remained here..."
"And Whomping Willow is still quite a tree," Harry nervously giggles.
"Then let's talk."
Gazes turned to white bulldog peacefully burrowing nose into old blanket.
"Did you take antidote, professor?"
"Naturally."
Harry sighed. Smart is smart, but such foresight he still has to live to. He didn't even ask if dementors won't sense Sirius if he returns to his form in the shack—most likely Snape thought of this too.
The professor sat Sybill back on couch and cast sleeping spell on her.
"Silencing," he asked Harry and specified: "On us three."
Harry nodded in response and began whispering spell, and at this time Snape activated some strange amulet.
"This is from dementors?" Potter couldn't resist.
"Not quite. Just interference, noise, distortions... through them impossible to read either magical field or wizard's aura."
The awakened bulldog tried to growl at Snape but seeing Harry quietly whined and crawled to him. Giving antidote was a moment's work. Transformation went quickly. And then...
Black proved surprisingly sane, at which even he himself was surprised. He told everything, true chaotically, not quite clearly, breaking into emotions that managed to calm only with another potion (Harry was penetrated again), but quite detailed.
"Ye-e-eah... Godfather, would be good for you from England to... clear out."
Black sighed and nodded. After Sybill's prophecy that acted on him like cold shower, moreover passed right through brains, he felt himself somehow different person. Or maybe because of potion felt so detached. In any case this was useful. Right.
"We'll catch Pettigrew, no question," Snape slightly ground teeth. "Need him caught with witnesses and give testimony, then we have chances to clear Black. But until that time need to hide him so not a soul... And best of all—really leave country. I have one acquaintance..."
Yes, Lucius Malfoy was going to continent literally day after tomorrow, true, how to slip an aristocrat a Muggle mutt, Severus had no idea yet.
Sirius exhaled raggedly. Lived to see. He'll owe Snape. And what a debt!..
But Harry looked at him point-blank, and for this boy's sake... he must live for him. He must restore his good name for him. What's there, henceforth all meaning of his dog life is—serve him, protect him, be support. In memory as if cleared of garbage surfaced conversation with Snape. The boy needs a reliable defender. Reliable. And what did he do?
"Black."
He raised eyes to former enemy.
"You need to get well. Not just be treated but get well, understand? You have no right to let Harry down."
He nodded. Yes. No right.
"Swear. It'll be... easier for you to hold on."
"Really?"
"Check."
"Please, Sirius..."
Well, this voice is decisive.
"I, Sirius Orion Black..."
"And now you'll drink and become a nice white bulldog picked up by this... hmm, worthy woman. Wake up, Miss Trelawney! And forgive. I'll be very careful. Obliviate..."