the fine art of breaking out of prison for your precious godson
Chapter 2 yaaaayyy (sorry for the essay type writing , i only used to write essays so im tryna loosen it up a little)
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Sirius Black had no idea how he got here. Well, ok, he did know, but still, he was surprised he pulled it off! The past few days have been a great big blur, escaping Azkaban, then somehow getting to Surrey as Padfoot , the Wizarding World might’ve been confused on how he did it, but Sirius was more confused himself.
Laying there in his cell, Sirius’ main thoughts were focused on his innocence. The dementors want happiness, thinking about why he was here, thinking about Peter, Remus, James, Harry, and Lily, couldn’t bring happiness, so for the most part, they left him alone. Not completely alone of course, but they didn’t bother him as much as the other prisoners who hadn’t yet learned the lesson Sirius had after all these years. These long, long seven years. Seven years Prongs was dead. Seven years Remus thought he was a traitor. Seven years Peter roamed free. Seven years Harry was being raised by someone who wasn’t him. Sirius had suspected Remus, he had hoped it was Remus raising Harry. then he would know Harry was safe.
But he wasn’t. Remus wasn’t raising Harry, and Sirius only found out because of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva had visited him some days before his escape. She didn’t often visit, rarely did in fact. Only twice had she ever, once at the beginning, and then before his escape.
In the beginning she came with Hagrid, and he could count the frown lines on her face. They were both talking to him through his cell door. It was a metal, black door, rusted with a cat flap at the bottom for the food on trays and a small window for visitation, such as this one. Hagrid seemed troubled, he seemed upset, viciously upset. Sirius had only been in Azkaban for a couple weeks when they visited.
The guards had woken him up by banging on his cell door, maybe half past 5 pm? There were no clocks, so time seemed to fly past.
“Get up! You have visitors.” Parkinson barked at Sirius. He opened his bleary eyes, letting them get used to the lighting, and looked at the door’s window. Sirius let out an unintentional gasp when he saw his former professor and groundskeeper, “Prof.. Hagri.. What?” Minerva's eyes seemed to soften as she took in the state of misery he seemed to let off in waves. “Mr. Black.” She nodded, and then Hagrid spoke, “‘ello Sirius.”
“Wh.. What is .. this?” Sirius was still shocked, he figured the whole world thought him a traitor, why would they be here to visit him? Minerva seemed to sense his question and answered it before he could ask, “Mr. Black… We decided to come here and visit you, against Albus’ wishes, of course. Though, I felt this was appropriate, considering the entirety of the Wizarding World seems to have gone mad. Honestly.. No trial, absolutely nothing. Ridiculous.” She rambled, slightly worked up. Hagrid nodded in agreement. Both knowing imprisoning someone with no trial, or even a check on which wand cast the spells, would have Amelia Bones’ knickers in the most tangled twist you could think of.
Sirius felt his eyes sting and water , a lump formed in his throat. Someone- two people! Thought he was innocent. Knew he was innocent, knew he would never hurt his best friend. Knew he wouldn’t betray the Marauders. His family. His brothers. Who taught him what family really meant. Who taught him how to be a friend, how to have friends. Knew he wouldn’t hurt Lily. Who taught him things his mother never would. How to properly take care of himself, how to comfort. How to BE comforted. His family. His sister. The mother of Harry, his pup.
“We can’t stay for long but, I figured you would want this. Dementors are nothing to laugh at, and if no one else, we wish for you to stay sane. Maybe this will help, Hagrid didn’t find much else.” She handed him a collar, Padfoot’s collar. “But how did yo-” Sirius seemed to finally find his voice when Hagrid cut him off, “‘onestly, Sirius. Yeh think we wouldn’t figure et out? A black dog, deer, wolf, and a rat all hanging together? Seeing the black dog ‘airs, and brown wolf ‘airs on your robes after the full moon was evidence ‘nough.”
Sirius laughed, wetly. He managed to croak out a raspy, “We thought we were so slick. Guess not.” Sirius allowed himself a sad chuckle, feeling his watery eyes threaten to spill over their dam, “Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think the rest of the professors noticed.” Minerva smiled at him, he smiled back, tears now streaming down his face. Hagrid smiled at him too, sadly. “Harry… is .. is he okay?” Sirius asked, rubbing his finger on the gold name tag, engraved with ‘Padfoot’. “He’s.. Yes, Albus has placed him in a.. Suitable environment. He’s safe, and alive.” Sirius smiled in joy, while Minerva and Hagrid grimaced. Knowing that Albus would’ve placed Harry with Remus. That’s where he was supposed to go in case something like this happened, with Sirius. But since.. Well. He was in Azkaban, Remus was the next one in line in case something happened to Sirius. So he allowed himself to think that, that Harry was safe. And loved, and put that worry in the back of his mind.
“Sirius.. There is.. Something you must know. Albus doesn't think you should know, he thinks it will distress you but.. Well, you see..” Minerva looked to the side, mouth open searching for words, “Harry survived. But.. He didn’t go after Lily and James only, he went after Harry too.” Sirius gaped at her. He knew Harry could be a part of the prophecy but.. It still seemed so unbelievable. “I thought you sAI-” As his voice raised, partly in fear, partly in anger, “He is. Safe. Harry is safe, Sirius. But.. He tried to kill him. But he couldn’t. We don’t know why. We don’t know how, but for some reason, on that night.. He couldn’t kill Harry. He’s gone. He vanished. No trace of him, that’s how Harry got the wound. The wound you saw that night.”
Sirius remembers now, the wound. In the shape of a lightning bolt, he remembers it, right before he gave Harry to Hagrid. Right before he forfeit his place in Harry’s life. Right before he stupidly ran after Peter, he stays silent. They stay silent too.
“We must be gettin’ back now,” Hagrid said gently, after some time, checking his watch, ”Dumbledore will have me hide if he finds out we came to visit yeh. It was nice seein’ yeh, Sirius.” Hagrid gave him a smile, then walked out of Sirius’ line of vision, to go check out with the guards, he assumed.
Silence for a moment, then, “Thank you.” He said to his former professor, “Thank you for going through the trouble of coming to see me. Thank you for telling me all this. Thank you for believing in me.” Minerva chose to gloss over the fact that his voice broke at the end, that it went soft, as soft as she knew he was inside, and out. “Anytime, Sirius. Anytime.” And with that, Minerva smiled, turned, and he didn’t see her again for seven years.
Seven long years of agony, of misery long forgotten. Misery he thought was reserved for Grimmauld Place. It was torturous, it was painful. But Sirius prevailed, didn't let the guards see how it affected him. Made himself look relaxed, as if this wasn’t the second worst thing he’d ever had to endure. The worry of Harry, wondering how he was doing, worries of Remus, and how the moon was treating him, fantasies of Peter and when he’d see him being dragged through Azkaban’s walls , just as Sirius had been that fateful Halloween night. Seven long years before he saw Minerva again, seven long years before he learned the truth.
Sirius lay on his cell floor, tracing the shape of a lightning bolt into the dust and grime on the floor. Eavesdropping on Guard Gossip™, semi-consciously remembering the guards patterns, when they switch, when they come back. Sirius doesn't talk much in Azkaban, when he does, his voice is scratchy and rough. He refuses to talk to the guards unless it’s with sass or something he knows will piss them off. He hears his insane cousin's laughter every once in a while, high and maniacal, annoying. Sirius has made many plans of escape, though not once has he ever gone through with one. Part of him believes he deserves to be here, for being naïve enough to suggest switching secret keepers. For being stupid enough. He tries not to but, the more he pushes those thoughts out, the more they come in.
Sirius loses track of time in Azkaban. He loses track of a lot of things, his sanity being one of them. He thinks about Harry from time to time, but the dementors feed on happiness and that’s all that's attached to Harry. Happiness, Hope, Family, Unconditional Love. So he forces those out, being more careful, as with the Marauders and Lily and everyone else he has more than enough to spare but with Harry, the memories are so precious but they lack in quantity.
Minerva hasn’t come back in years. Sirius knows that much, though he understands, times are tough, things are tense. He doesn't expect to see her anytime soon but of course, she exceeds his expectations.
“Mr. Black.” A stern, familiar voice says through the now, heavily rusted window, screws coming off. Sirius jerks up into a sitting position, then hastily scrambles towards the window. “Prof-,” He coughs, his throat still rough from rarely being used, ”Professor.” Sirius hopes she's come with news, and she has, but not the kind he wants to hear. Sirius sees her look to the left then the right, she then hands him a large envelope. “Wait until I leave to open it.” She whispers to him, “Good luck.” Then, she turns and after 7 years, leaves again.
Sirius looks at her with disbelief. Shock, and a little bit of anger, at her saying close to nothing then leaving. He stands there for a minute, letting himself process in waves. He then sits back on the floor, in a criss cross position, listens for guards, then as quietly as he can opens the envelope. Inside is a letter and a flannel, a flannel that smells familiar. Sirius decides to open the envelope first before digging into his memory and trying to place where the scent is from.
The letter reads,
Dear Sirius,
I know this situation is shocking and quite frankly, I can’t believe I’m doing it either but Harry is in trouble and I know you will always have his best interest at heart.
Sirius takes a deep breath in.
Dumbledore has put him with Lily’s sister, Petunia and her husband. I’m sure you remember them. I’m sure you remember their take on witches and wizards. I have to keep this short but I have given you one of Harry’s flannels, he left it outside one night and on impulse I made my decision after witnessing something horrific. Vernon is the farthest thing from kind to the boy, he is vile and cruel. I will not stand by and watch a child be mistreated. He’s in Surrey, Number 4 Privet Drive. Use the flannel to guide you. Good luck, Sirius.
Your friend,
Minerva McGonagall
Fury. Pure fury runs through Sirius’ veins. The same fury he felt when he ran after Peter. Now that he knows the scent is Harry’s he can place it, the smell of grass, the wind, and something that makes his nose burn, bleach perhaps?
Sirius sits there. Still. For minutes, hours, days, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is Minerva’s letter. He knows what she means. He KNOWS what ‘mistreated’ means. He knows. He feels. He feels. There's a feeling in his chest. Something that feels like it’s sinking, feels like it's breaking. Feels like it’s tearing his whole being apart. What's left of it anyway.
It takes him a long time to calm himself down. The fury, the sadness, the helplessness slowly, very slowly, dying down. He’s shifted to laying down, clutching Harry’s flannel in his hand. His eyes are clenched tight, so hard he sees shapes, thinks of his pup. With no one to comfort him, no one to love him. He knows how that feels. Knows what it does to someone. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not Harry.
Sirius has made a lot of escape plans, never going through with one. Until now. Sirius got lucky, Merlin seems to be on his side, tonight it’s raining. Which will make it easier for him to conceal the noises he makes, the harsh rain overshadowing them. He knows from the Guard Gossip™ that Dementors don’t pick up on animal souls, as many other Animagus’ have been caught, and they gossip and gossip about how stupid they are changing into humans at the last minute. So he uses that to his advantage. Remembering how the guards stations work, how long one stays at one station before going onto the next. What guards can do what, who is going to guard his hallway full of cells , of real criminals.
Sirius changed into Padfoot when dementors had been especially bad, making him relive his mother, relive seeing James’ and Lily’s face, seeing Harry’s face red and twisted in agony. Padfoot had always been a sort of safe haven for him, being able to relax and not think for a while. He had to change back before the guards could see him so no one knew he was an Animagus, he had done it unconsciously, his body semi consciously keeping that secret. Sirius used this to his advantage though, no one knew he was an Animagus so he could use that, and his severe weight loss, to escape.
After seeing Minerva’s letter, Sirius had the idea to use Padfoot to escape and get to Harry. The guard who was patrolling his hallway was gone, lunch break, and it’d be 10 minutes before another came back so he had more than enough time to change into Padfoot, then get through the cells’ catflap. He just had to be careful not to run into anyone, guards or dementors.
So, running on adrenaline and partly anger, Sirius shifted into Padfoot, making sure to have put the collar on beforehand, and tightening the flannel around it. He wiggled his way through the door's cat flap, being careful not to make much noise, and getting his fur pulled a little bit, in his defense, it’s a very tight fit. He finally got his body through, “Merlin’s sake,” Sirius grumbled in his head, already panting because of the sheer difficulty it took to squeeze Padfoot’s body through the tiny opening.
Though he can’t stay still for long, the guards will be coming back, and it took him some time to get through the flap. Scrambling, Padfoot trots down the hallway to where he can see the nearest source of light, a window at the end, making sure to silence his footsteps as much as possible, to not disturb guards or other prisoners, the rain helping. The window is slightly open, for dementors to slip through, which is lucky for him. Once Padfoot reaches the window, he hears footsteps come from down the hall, “Hey!” A guard barks out at him, beginning to run towards him, “Shit!” Sirius’ mind reels, quickly pushing the window up with Padfoot’s head. “Come back here, Mutt!”
And just as the guard is only a couple feet away the window opens just enough for Padfoot’s malnourished body to be able to push himself out. Sirius knows the guard doesn't know it’s him, as if he did, he surely would’ve tried harder.. ?
Padfoot pushes himself through the window, not anticipating the drop, and feels the wind rush through his ears as he falls, hundreds of feet, he guesses. He can feel the wind under his skin, under his fur, and his body feels lightweight. But before long, Padfoot hits the cold water, it stings and tingles his skin, and he knows if he was maybe a floor above he would’ve hit the water and most likely died from the drop. Sirius can swim better as a dog, so he stays as Padfoot. Well that, and he doesn't dare risk the dementors wrath for escaping. The tide is rough and if he doesn't start swimming he risks being swept away to the rocks that lay at Azkaban's base. The water is icy and if it gets any colder, it’ll freeze over.
He’s shocked he pulled this off. That it was this easy. He allows himself a moment to celebrate, not being able to feel happiness or being able to celebrate for 7 years.
Sirius knows they’ve figured it out by now, they cut his celebration short. He can hear the dementors' sickening call of wrathe, angry someone escaped, a siren’s call to a sailor. He can hear the alarms going off, seeing the red lights flash from the inside. Padfoot could hear the feet running through Azkaban, trying to find him. The horrified whispers of guards.
Deciding not to stick around and see what happens, not wanting to be caught or worse, he decides to swim. The tide is rough and he struggles a bit swimming. The rain doesn't help much either, the water getting in his eyes, salt water and rain. Padfoot’s eyes burn and he struggles to keep them open. Padfoot swims, and swims, and swims. Swims until his arms tire and he feels himself sinking away, his hope sinking with them.
He’s starting to lose the adrenaline. Loses hope until he remembers Harry. Harry being mistreated. James’ sprog, being mistreated.
It doesn't help his body much, but he’s much more determined. Much more ready to push through the sore muscles and burning eyes.
He stops sometimes, to simply waddle in the water for a while, letting himself gain energy so he doesn't actually drown.
Padfoot swims until he sees land, it takes him a while. The rain continues to pour, but softens slightly.
Land gets closer, Padfoot gains hope. Sirius gains determination.
Once the shore gets close enough, Padfoot lets himself push harder, swims faster. Use more muscle and energy. Lets himself dream of freedom.
The shore is so close Padfoot can feel sand under his feet, the water starting to lower and lower until it’s just sand.
He did it. He escaped Azkaban.
Sirius transforms back to a human, and lays there on the sand. Lays there in his rags, with sand in his hair.
He bursts into laughter, “Merlin! I did it,” The laughter builds, “I actually did it!” He’s almost hysterical, the laughter building until it becomes silent and more of a wheeze, honestly, than an actual laugh. His hands cradle his face and he sits up, laughing and laughing. Out of shock, out of happiness. Happy to be free, even if he’s sitting on.. Wet sand. In rags.
He sits and laughs for a long time. He’s not sure for how long, or why, really. Just knows that he’s not there anymore, and if he’s lucky, he’ll never have to go back.
He sits there for a while, breathing the air, smelling the rain, feeling it soak his clothes. Sits and thinks, then remembers. He has the collar around his neck, he gets a whiff of the flannel and remembers why he’s here. Why he escaped. Who he escaped for.
Sirius finally gets up from his position on the sand, ignoring the protest from his body and walks to the edge of the beach, careful not to be seen by any muggles, though he doesn't worry much, people will probably chalk him up to being homeless. Sirius walks to a bus stop, needing shelter from the rain, and unties the flannel from around the collar. Harry’s flannel.
It gives him hope. It strengthens Sirius’ resolve, a resolve he thought he’d long lost. He rubs the cloth between his fingers, taking in the texture beneath his thumbs. Taking in the scent.
Sirius doesn't care that it’s raining. Rain is just water, and although Sirius has had enough of the sea, or any kind of water, for a lifetime, he can’t find it in him to care.
Transforming back to Padfoot, after tying the flannel to his collar again, with a new feeling in his chest, one that makes him feel light. Makes him feel like he’s floating. Makes him feel alive again, not just a husk of a human.
With those new feelings, he sets off to find Harry.