Woof! Woof! Woof!
Sirius Black—currently in his Animagus form as a large black English Mastiff—could swear that not even the soul-sucking horrors of Azkaban had startled him this badly.
And that was saying something.
His Animagus form had always granted him heightened senses, enough to detect the presence of nearby magical or non-magical beings, no matter how stealthy they tried to be. That ability had helped him stay at least partially sane in that cursed prison, avoiding the Dementors' attention by remaining a dog, and thus, avoiding their dreaded Kiss.
But apparently, none of that mattered in front of this man.
Sirius was sure—absolutely sure—that he had seen the young man get into a Muggle car and drive off moments ago.
So why was he crouching beside him now, as if they were bloody acquaintances?
Woof. Woof. Woof.
"I truly hope that's not you cursing at me, Mr. Black," said the young man.
He smiled, and Merlin's saggy left sock—that smile looked more dangerous than a swarm of Dementors. Sirius wanted nothing more than to bolt. Especially after hearing that last part.
How in Merlin's balls does he know it's me?!
Did that bastard Pettigrew sell me out that badly? Did the rat even spill our Animagus secrets from school?
Damn it!
Woof. Woof.
And with that grim thought, Sirius turned tail—literally—and bolted toward the woods, sprinting as fast as his four legs could carry him.
Branches whipped past him. The cool night air roared in his ears as he ran, four limbs pounding the earth, not daring to stop or look back.
He might be a little insane after all those years locked away in that dark, soul-sucking cell—but he wasn't stupid. Even a brain-dead fool wouldn't be dumb enough to take on an Archmage.
At first, when he saw the headlines in the paper, he thought it was nonsense. Sensationalist drivel. But after breaking out and coming here to check on his godson, he discovered that little Harry had been traveling around with one of his professors.
Curious, he lingered. Listened. The Dursleys mentioned the name in passing, and it rang a bell. So he dug deeper—stole a few older newspapers, scoured the archives from dustbins and alleys, and slowly, it all fell into place.
That same young man he had seen in the news months ago… really was an Archmage. If it had only been one article, he might have dismissed it. But they were everywhere—story after story, each more outrageous than the last—yet all circling back to the same name.
There was no doubt anymore.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
He ran—fast, desperate—driven by the singular thought of escape. In his mind, that young man must have discovered him. And surely, as Harry's professor, he would not allow a dangerous fugitive to roam free after being exposed—especially when that fugitive's so-called crime was directly connected to Harry himself.
False as the accusations may have been, Sirius had no doubt that the world now saw him as the Dark Lord's most loyal follower.
Ridiculous!
Unfortunately, he could not change that. What had happened, had happened. Nobody believed him back then, so why would anyone believe him now?
But even so, he could not afford to be caught. Not now.
Not before he found him.
Not before he took his revenge.
No way. No way.
But the moment he broke through the trees on the other side, the hound skidded to a halt, and the dog's eyes widened with disbelief.
He was back.
It was the same stretch of road. The same night air. And standing in the exact same spot was that same young man, hands in his pockets, watching him with a faint, amused smile.
What the hell is going on?
With that thought, and without wasting a second more, the dog spun around and bolted back into the woods.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
He zigzagged through the trees, faster, sharper turns this time, trying to escape whatever trick was being played on him. But when he burst through another opening—
Woof! Woof! Woof!
—there he was back again. That same young man, waiting like he hadn't moved an inch.
Panic welled up in Sirius's chest.
What in Merlin's name is happening?!
His heart pounded harder as he sprinted back, faster than before—but once again, he found himself at the same spot.
Again. And again. And again. No matter which path he took through the woods, he always emerged in the same place.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
"What the bloody hell have you done to me?"
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Realizing he was caught in some kind of magic beyond his understanding, the hound barked frantically at the young man, who still stood there calmly, watching as if all this was a game.
"Leave me alone, dammit! Leave me alone!"
Woof! Woof! Woof!
His mind raced while panic clawed at his chest as his brain frantically tried to find a way out... but then, all of a sudden, his head began to feel heavy.
His thoughts tangled, and the sight in front of him felt like it was... tilting, ever so slightly.
His head jerked from side to side—quick at first—then slower... and slower, as the heavy feeling turned into a strange drowsiness, creeping over him like a fog, swallowing his senses whole.
His breathing slowed.
"What have... you..." he mumbled, now barely conscious, until—
"The... ra... rat..."
His voice trailed off into silence.
---
Haaaah!
The sound of a sharp inhale, followed by frantic, uneven breathing, echoed through the air.
Where... am I?
Sirius Black opened his eyes, taking in a dim, shadowy space surrounded by nothing but cold walls. Confusion gnawed at him as he struggled to piece together what was happening.
Did I pass out?
His gaze dropped to his body, and then a cold, harsh realization hit him.
No... I was captured.
He looked down at the thick ropes firmly binding him to the chair.
Uhh... uhh...
He strained against the bindings, but the ropes held strong and didn't budge an inch.
Panic rising in his chest, he reached inward, desperate to trigger his Animagus transformation. If he could just change forms, maybe he could slip free of the restraints.
But—nothing.
It wasn't that it was difficult. It wasn't working at all. His body simply refused to change.
His heart pounded harder, and a cold weight settled in his gut. The transformation that had once come as easily as breathing seems completely out of reach. His animagus magic... was unresponsive.
He yanked at the ropes harder as more desperation fueled his movements until-
"You better stop... unless you want to break those already very fragile bones of yours."
A calm voice from ahead made him pause and snap his head in that direction.
There, standing just a few feet in front of him, was that young man, looking down at him indifferently.
"It's you!"
Uhh... uh...
He struggled harder, the thought of returning to prison without taking his revenge flooding his mind.
"Let me go, boy!"
His voice was rough, and coupled with his sunken eyes and skeletal frame, he looked like a ghost barely holding on to what was left of his sanity.
"Let me go!" he barked, yanking at the ropes with twitchy, frantic movements. "Let me go, and I'll give you... galleons—yes! You want gold? I've got gold! You know who I am, don't you?" His eyes darted wildly. "Release me! I'll only kill that rat—and you can bury me alive in that godforsaken prison for all I care!"
"Is it Pettigrew? The pet of the Weasley family?" Maverick conjured a simple chair and lowered himself onto it.
"Yes, yes... that rat. That fucking traitorous piece of garbage—"
"Wait... how do you know the rat lives with the Weasleys?"
Sirius narrowed his bloodshot eyes.
"Are you one of that mad fucker's followers too? You and that rat in the same boat? Huh?"
He yanked and twisted against the chair, growing more frenzied with every scream.
Thud!
Thud!
"Answer me, bastard! Why are you so close to James's boy?! You sons of bitches—was it not enough to murder the kid's parents?! What dark schemes are you lot planning now?!"
Thud!
Thud!
Grrrrrrr…
"What the fuck is making that ruckus—"
In the middle of his outburst, he snapped his head toward the source of the heavy, trembling stomps and low growls. The sounds were grating on his already frayed nerves, each thud and growl increasing his irritation—but when he actually saw it, his sunken eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Grrrrrr…
It was a monster. Familiar—like his friend, Remus—yet not. No… this wasn't like the creature in his memory. This was something else entirely.
Then, something even more bizarre happened—something that sent a shiver through his fragile body.
The towering beast, easily twice his full height, leaned down. Its massive head lowered until its snout was inches from his face.
Gulp.
Sirius swallowed, mouth dry as parchment, dreading what might come next.
Sssssss...
The monster leaned in and gave him a long, deliberate sniff—like it was savoring the moment before the inevitable.
But then, it suddenly recoiled, letting out a sharp snort of hot air, as if it had just inhaled something foul.
Then it straightened to its full height, glanced at the young man standing ahead, and… spoke. Actually, spoke.
Its voice was like grinding stone—cold, heavy, and inhuman. Like a demon dragged up from the depths of the underworld.
"He reeks of rot... I won't eat him. My stomach's not that desperate.
But if he refuses to answer... I'll start snapping bones, one by one. Slowly."
Sirius Black sat petrified, wide-eyed and utterly terrified. Hearing that the beast wouldn't eat him at first made him breathe a small sigh of relief. But then, seeing the clear disgust in its eyes, he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved... or, something else.
Still, it seemed there was no way to escape this place. And from what the beast had just said, they wanted something from him.
Was it information about something… or secrets of the Black family?
He watched as the beast thudded its heavy feet and strode past him toward the young man, then stood behind him like an obedient subordinate, waiting for instruction.
The prisoner of Azkaban was terrified.
Sure, Dementors there no longer made him flinch—he had grown used to them, fooled them into thinking he was nothing more than a dog. But this was the first time he was a prisoner in a situation where, he believed, pure, unrelenting torture awaited him. After all, why else would there be a monster here waiting to eat him if he didn't cooperate?
And speaking of cooperation, Sirius thought, if I satisfy them by giving everything I can from the Black family they want, maybe I could go free?
His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities as a heavy silence settled over the room. He was certain this young man desired something tied to the Black family—riches, or perhaps knowledge. Yes, his ancestral family's library must hold some precious, valuable books.
"Fine. What do you want?" he finally asked, his gaze fixed on the young Archmage sitting there so leisurely.
Maverick tugged at the corner of his mouth, a faint smile appearing. Seeing the man finally calm down a bit, he thought to himself that bringing Ali along for an initial scare had been a good choice.
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