sirius is not bad
The castle was silent.
Harry's breath came out in short, uneven gasps as he pressed himself against the cold stone wall of the hallway. His heart hammered in his chest, his wand gripped tightly in his sweaty palm. Beside him, Ron and Hermione were equally tense, their eyes darting around the darkened corridor.
They had followed the footprints on the Marauder’s Map, watched as they led straight to the Gryffindor Tower, only to discover the Fat Lady’s portrait slashed open. *Sirius Black had been here.*
And now—he was standing right in front of them.
A gaunt, wild-looking man with sunken eyes and matted hair stood in the middle of the room. His tattered robes hung off his thin frame, and his hands, rough and scarred, were curled into fists at his sides. The firelight flickered, casting eerie shadows over his hollowed features.
Harry could barely breathe.
Sirius Black—the man who betrayed his parents. The reason they were dead. The reason Harry had grown up in that miserable house on Privet Drive. The reason he had spent eleven years feeling like he had no one in the world.
Hatred surged through him, burning hot in his veins.
"You," Harry spat, his voice trembling with fury.
Black’s lips curled into something that was almost a smile, but it was twisted, bitter. "Me," he said, voice raspy and low.
Harry lifted his wand. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t care. He could end this. *Now.* He could make sure Black never hurt anyone again. He could—
But before he could even say a spell, Black raised his hands. "You don’t know the whole story," he said, his voice urgent. "I didn’t—"
"SHUT UP!" Harry shouted, his anger boiling over. "You killed my parents! You betrayed them!"
Black flinched. For the first time, he looked almost… pained.
"I didn’t betray them," Black said quietly. "Peter did."
Harry froze.
Peter? Who the hell was Peter?
But before he could demand answers, a voice cut through the tense air—low, dangerous, and full of authority.
"Step away from my godson, Black."
Severus Snape had arrived.
---
### **Chaos Unleashed**
Harry barely had a second to process Snape’s arrival before everything exploded into motion.
Snape’s wand was drawn, his face a mask of cold fury as he stepped between Harry and Sirius Black. His black robes billowed as he moved, and his dark eyes burned with absolute hatred.
"Sirius Black," Snape sneered, his voice thick with venom. "I should have known you’d be reckless enough to show your face here."
Black’s lips curled in something almost like amusement. "Ah, Severus. Always lurking in the shadows, aren't you?"
Harry glanced between them, his wand still raised, his mind spinning. He was supposed to hate Sirius Black—he *did* hate him—but something about the way Black had flinched when Harry accused him… the way Snape was reacting… something wasn’t adding up.
"Get away from Harry," Snape said coldly.
But before Sirius could reply, the door burst open again.
**Remus Lupin.**
He was breathless, his robes slightly disheveled, his eyes darting between Harry, Snape, and Sirius in rapid succession.
And then—he did the one thing that no one expected.
He lowered his wand.
"Sirius," Lupin said softly, his voice filled with something unreadable. "Is it true?"
Sirius took a deep breath, his entire body tense. "Yes," he said, his voice raw. "It was Peter."
Lupin inhaled sharply. His hand twitched at his side. His expression—normally so warm, so composed—was unreadable.
Snape’s lip curled. "You believe *him*?" he hissed.
Lupin turned to face him, his eyes dark. "Yes," he said simply.
Snape stiffened, his grip tightening on his wand. "Of course you do," he said bitterly. "You were always a fool for him, weren’t you?"
Harry blinked. *What?*
Lupin’s face darkened. "Not now, Severus," he warned.
Snape’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t lower his wand. His entire body was thrumming with tension, like a predator ready to strike.
Harry’s mind was still racing.
"Wait—*who’s* Peter?" he demanded, stepping forward.
Sirius turned to him, his expression full of something heavy—regret? Sadness? "Peter Pettigrew," he said. "He was one of your father’s best friends. And he’s the one who betrayed them."
"That’s a *lie*," Snape snapped.
"It’s the truth," Lupin interjected, his voice firm. "Peter is alive. And we can prove it."
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
"Scabbers," Ron whispered.
Harry turned to look at him.
Ron was pale, his eyes wide with horror. His hands clutched his pet rat—who was squirming violently in his grip.
Scabbers.
Harry’s blood ran cold.
He knew, in that instant, that everything was about to change.
---
### **The Full Moon Rises**
The night air was thick with tension. The only sound was Peter’s labored breaths as he knelt on the ground, still pleading for his life.
Then, a low, guttural *snarl* cut through the silence.
Harry’s blood ran cold.
He turned, just in time to see Remus Lupin stiffen, his whole body trembling. His breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes wide in horror as he looked up at the sky.
The full moon had risen.
“No,” Lupin choked out, stumbling back. “No, not *now*—”
A terrible, bone-cracking *snap* filled the air as Lupin fell to his knees, clutching his sides. His whole body was contorting, shifting, his fingers curling into claws. A strangled cry left his lips, only to turn into a *howl*—a sound so deep and unnatural that it sent shivers down Harry’s spine.
Panic erupted.
Sirius’s face paled. “*Run.*”
Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist, yanking him back. “We have to get out of here *now*—”
But the transformation had already begun.
Lupin—no, the *werewolf*—threw his head back and let out a bloodcurdling *howl*, his eyes glowing an unnatural yellow.
And then he lunged.
Everything happened too fast.
Sirius shoved Harry and Draco back, shifting into his Animagus form—a massive black dog—to intercept the werewolf.
Peter Pettigrew took his chance.
With everyone distracted, the cowardly traitor scrambled up, his beady eyes darting toward Ron’s wand, which had been knocked aside in the struggle.
Harry saw it happen too late.
Peter *snatched* up the wand, gave them all a terrified glance, then—
“*Expelliarmus!*”
A blast of red light hit Harry, sending him flying backward.
He barely registered Peter shifting back into a rat before scurrying into the darkness—*gone*.
“NO!” Harry shouted, trying to scramble after him, but Draco yanked him back. “HE’S GETTING AWAY!”
“We have *bigger problems*, Potter!” Draco hissed.
Because in the chaos, *no one had noticed the werewolf turning toward them.*
Harry barely had time to react.
The werewolf snarled and *lunged*.
Draco shoved Harry aside—*and then pain exploded through him*.
Lupin’s claws raked across Draco’s side, tearing through his robes. Blood splattered onto the ground as Draco let out a strangled gasp, his knees buckling.
“*DRACO!*”
Harry caught him just before he collapsed completely, but his arms were shaking, his heart *pounding* in terror.
Sirius, still in his dog form, rammed into the werewolf’s side, snarling furiously. The werewolf roared, momentarily distracted, but Harry couldn’t focus on the fight.
Draco’s face was pale—too pale. His shirt was torn, the deep gashes on his side bleeding far too much.
“Draco, stay with me, *please*,” Harry begged, his voice shaking as he pressed his hands to the wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.
Draco gave a weak, breathless laugh. “Didn’t—think you *cared* this much, Potter.”
Harry’s throat tightened. “Don’t joke right now, you idiot—”
Another *snarl* reminded Harry of the danger. The werewolf turned toward them *again*.
They had to *run*.
Harry gritted his teeth and *refused* to let Draco go.
“Hold on,” he muttered, tightening his grip.
With all the strength he had left, he *dragged* Draco to his feet.
And then, ignoring the burning in his muscles, ignoring the way his heart screamed in panic, he *ran*.
---
### **The Aftermath**
Harry ran, dragging Draco with him, ignoring the burning in his legs and the pounding of his heart. The sound of Sirius and the werewolf fighting echoed behind them, but Harry didn’t dare look back. Draco was leaning heavily against him, his breaths shallow, his usually sharp eyes dazed with pain.
“Just a little further,” Harry muttered, his voice tight. He knew he was saying it more for himself than for Draco.
They barely made it past the tree line before a sharp *howl* ripped through the night. Harry risked a glance over his shoulder—just in time to see Sirius thrown back, his black dog form hitting the ground hard.
The werewolf turned toward them.
Harry’s stomach *dropped*.
It was going to *attack again*.
He barely had time to think before a bright, golden light shot through the air.
A blur of white rushed past them—a large, glowing dog. No, not a dog—*a Patronus.*
The werewolf stopped in its tracks, letting out a furious snarl as the Patronus forced it back, keeping it from attacking again.
Harry turned his head, his breath catching.
Standing at the edge of the trees was *Will Solace*, his wand raised, eyes glowing faintly with golden light. He was breathing hard, his jaw clenched in concentration as he held the Patronus between them and the werewolf.
The werewolf let out a low growl, its ears flattening. Then, as if suddenly confused, it turned away and bolted into the darkness.
Will’s Patronus flickered and vanished, and he lowered his wand, exhaling sharply.
Harry couldn’t even process what had just happened—his focus was entirely on Draco.
“Draco?” he gasped, shifting to hold him properly. Draco was getting *too heavy*, his body sagging against Harry’s as his knees buckled.
Will rushed forward. “Get him down, let me see—”
Harry carefully lowered Draco onto the grass, his hands trembling as he pulled back the torn fabric of Draco’s shirt.
The gashes looked *bad*. The claw marks were deep, and blood was still trickling out of them. Draco’s face was pale, his breaths shallow.
Will swore under his breath, already pulling a small vial from his jacket.
“I need to stop the bleeding,” he muttered. “This isn’t a normal wound—Remus was *halfway* transformed when he attacked, so the curse could still—”
Harry *froze*.
A *curse*.
No.
No, no, no—
Will’s voice was urgent. “Harry, I need you to keep pressure on the wound while I—”
“Is he—” Harry’s voice came out strangled. His chest *hurt*. “Is he—?”
Will glanced at him, his face grim. “I don’t know yet.”
Harry *couldn’t breathe*.
Draco’s eyes fluttered open slightly. He gave a weak smirk, his lips barely lifting. “Merlin, Potter… you’re crying over me… *again*?”
Harry hadn’t even realized there were tears in his eyes.
Will was already working, pressing a glowing hand to Draco’s side as he poured the potion over the wounds. Draco hissed, but he was too weak to do much else.
“H-Harry,” Draco mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m here,” Harry said immediately, squeezing his hand. “I’m right here, Draco.”
Draco’s fingers curled slightly around his own, but his grip was weak.
Then his eyes slid shut.
And Harry’s world *stopped*.