7 - DATE WITH A HIPPOGRIFF, Submit your Siruis/Buckbeak Escape Stories here! Options

[zymurgy]

I'm Free!
(Date with a hippogryff)

It’s all over, now.

They’ve sent for the Dementors. This is it, Sirius. This is where they take my soul away from me. That bit of myself, that I was always told was mine, all mine. Nobody can touch your soul, they told me that. Even Mother told me that. I’ve held on to that truth all my life, and now even that is gone.

I failed. I’ve failed everything I’ve tried for all these years. I tried to save my friends, and they died because of me. I tried to save their son, and what did I achieve? I just forced Peter away from the one place he would be content to stay quiet. I sent him back to him. It’s my fault.

And now it’s all over. They probably will believe I was lying, after all, those children. They’ll believe Remus was lying, too. They’ll probably kill him, now, too. Poor Remus. They’ll have him at last, after all these years. Because he was “in league,” with me, they’ll say, and because he was “irresponsible,” “dangerous,” “dark.”

I’m sorry, Remus. I’ve gone and done it this time, haven’t I? I put my foot in it. I killed James, and Lilly. I messed up everything for their son, and I failed Peter as a friend. If I had been there for him, he’d never have turned dark. And now I dragged you into it all, too.

What in the name of Merlin is that!?

Oh, lord. This is the part where they wake me up and tell me I’m dreaming. This is the part where I realize that I’m still in my cell. This is the part where they come back, and suck the ability to dream away from me. Suck away my knowledge of anything out of the dark, inky blackness of the stone walls of Azkaban.

“How?” I say, staring at the sight before me, “how?”

James says there isn’t time. Only it isn’t James, and I musn’t think of him as James. I don’t know him at all, as much as I feel I have my friend back, this is Harry. Harry, the godson I’ve failed.

Somehow, I get out of the window, and onto the hippogryff. I haven’t seen one since school, and that was from a good distance off. Curriculum must have gotten looser since I was in school.

It’s a miracle that none of us fall off. The north tower. Oh, Merlin. The last time I was here, I was testing that ridiculous flying carpet Peter and James cooked up. We nearly killed the Finnigan boys with that thing.

They’ve slid off, and he’s telling my something. My brain is too full of everything to process whatever it is. I’m free. I tell myself that, stupidly, over and over again, repeating it like some sort of incantation.
I’m free. I’m free. I’m free. I’m free.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remember that I’m here. On the top of the North Tower, riding a hippogryff, thanks to my godson. My godson, that I’ve failed, that somehow, by some miracle, turned out all right, and believed me enough to risk expulsion, even his life, for me.

I tell myself, yes, yes, this is real, it is. This isn’t another game. The dementors aren’t feeding me dreams to get my emotions to a tastier level. I’m not food anymore. It’s real. All of it was real. This is real. I’m free. I’m free.

“What happened to the other boy,” I ask, suddenly realizing his absence, “Ron?”

They assure me that he’s fine. I think of asking them to tell Remus something, but realize that it’s useless. Knowing Remus he’ll blame everything on himself, and take off again. Probably go back to Glasgow, or something. He never did see things right. Always thought it was all his fault.

This is real. I’m here. This is the North Tower. I am in Hogwarts. I am sitting on a hyppogryff. My godson is standing to my left. A girl, Hermione, is standing next to him. They are telling me I need to leave. My wand is in my left pocket. My robes are black. I am Sirius. I’m real. It’s real.

I’m free. I’m free. I’m free.

Belatedly, I realize that I owe this boy my life. No, not my life, something far more precious. I owe this boy my soul. It is a great debt. He has risked so much. Somehow, when it’s all over, when the miracle happens, when Dumbledore triumphs, I’ll make my promise good. I’ll give him a home. I’ll make it all good.

The words fall from my lips without me thinking about them. “How can I ever thank…?” Clumsy, stupid. I never was good at talking to people. Maybe if I had been this never would have happened. I was good at doing. I was good at joking. I was good and being a nice guy. I wasn’t good at being a good friend.

“Go!” they shout together, and I realize, that yes, time is precious. Time isn’t a black nothingness anymore. Time doesn’t belong to them. Time is mine, because I’m real, it’s real, and I’m free.

I give the hipogryff a kick, and it flies off. Glasgow, I think to myself, as I fly towards the moon. I see them, out of the corner of my eye, rushing at breakneck speed towards the door. I hope they manage whatever great plan it is Dumbledore set them in.

Glasgow. I’m free. It’s real. I’m free.