The following day, all houses are cleared to go back to their dorms and students are allowed to spend their Sunday as they wish.

When you wake up, your back aching from the eight hours of what barely constitutes as sleep on the stone floor of the Great Hall, you drag yourself back up to the tower in hopes of sleeping away the rest of the morning- maybe even the whole day, if you can manage that. You know that with what happened yesterday still being on the forefront of everyone's mind, staying away from the gossip that's to come from such an event is the best thing for you right now.

With the idea that somehow Scruffy is connected to Sirius Black haunting you like the plague, it feels like everything that involves him is now leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't mean to put such a ridiculous concept in your head, but now it won't go away, making itself comfortable in your mind and leaving you an unsettled mess that's way too concerned over the possible correlation between a dog's absence and a murderer's attempt to break into a school. Hanging out among other students right after all the commotion will only leave you surrounded by people chatting away about the same man you're trying not to be reminded of.

When you reach the dorms and promptly flop onto your mattress, rolling over onto your side and making yourself comfortable nestled within your blankets, you find that somehow despite your efforts, a restful sleep is continuing to evade you. The silence of the room is less than welcoming, as it leaves you alone with your thoughts, the same ones you're trying so hard to rid yourself of.

Your mind wanders back to the conversation that you overheard between Dumbledore and Professor Snape; the latter of which was about to imply that Professor Lupin was somehow involved in getting Sirius into the castle, but why? What connection could there be between the two? It's not even any of your business, but it's as if the more you ponder these questions, the more you're left with, and you know that unless you start finding answers, they won't go away.

Your mind really just can't help itself, can it? You being left to your thoughts only allows your mind to start on another matter; the most pressing one in your opinion. With you wandering around outside all day, it's amazing that you hadn't once noticed anyone trying to sneak their way in or out of the castle. But perhaps you did see just that. The image of Scruffy bounding out of one of the windows has practically been playing on repeat in your head, and it does nothing to help you as you desperately try to play it off as nothing more than a mere coincidence. This is exactly what you didn't want. You didn't want to be led back to this same outlandish thought, that maybe Sirius Black was the damn dog.

It could just be a fluke. Another example of a "wrong time, wrong place," chance happening that's made your encounters with Scruffy clash so suspiciously with the events of Sirius Black breaking in, but there's just one too many coincidences for you to not dwell on it, no matter how much you don't want to.

Sleep isn't an option anymore, at least that much is clear to you. You throw the blankets off of your figure, sitting upright momentarily while pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You're not going to give this one up, are you?" You grumble to yourself, already knowing the answer. You climb out of bed, hastily getting dressed and leaving the Gryffindor Tower as soon as you do; a determined look on your face as you head straight for the library.

Maybe you can meet yourself halfway. If you're this caught up over Sirius Black, perhaps starting on looking into Snape's claims and nipping that thought in the bud before it can get carried away will allow you some semblance of rationality, and you can worry about Sirius and Scruffy's connection later if this one doesn't give you the peace of mind you're hoping for.

***

It's amazing isn't it? How one stupid, totally insane and out there suspicion can have the power to take over all of your thoughts and leave you a jumbled mess. It's not a good thing when those ideas try to intrude on your daily life, and it's definitely not a good thing to let them. But as you find yourself walking straight to the section of the library dedicated to past yearbooks, you feel like the only way you'll be able to concentrate on anything else is if you humor the persistent part of you that refuses to drop any curiosity you have that's linked to Sirius Black. You figure that yearbooks would be the best place to start to see if there really is a connection between Sirius Black and Professor Lupin, and to also take a peek into the past of the man who everyone is waiting for to strike again.

None of the newspaper articles you saw mentioned how old Sirius Black is, and it's not just a casual question you can go and ask your DADA teacher, so you're going to have to make an educated guess. Grabbing a few books and dropping them onto an empty table with a thud that gets you dirty looks from a few of the other students in the library, you settle down and begin your search.

One by one you flip through the yearbooks and come up empty handed, forcing you to send each back to their space on the shelf with a wave of your wand. As the pile dwindles you start to get nervous- until one of them leaves you victorious.

In the 1977-1978 Hogwarts Yearbook, you're shocked to find a young, quite charming looking 7th year Sirius Black staring back up at you from one of the moving pictures, donning a familiar colored tie around his neck. A Gryffindor? Given the current state of things, it's definitely not the house you expected him to be in.

In the image, he's winking, a smirk spreading onto his face before he promptly breaks out into a laugh as he fails to keep up his suave appearance. The sight of the looping image makes you smile without realizing it, but you can't help but feel a little sad. The juxtaposition of the photo in comparison to his mugshot that was plastered on every wall and lamppost in the wizarding community of Great Britain is so startlingly different that you almost can't believe it's the same person. If anything, it really isn't. You don't think of the person he is now when you look at his face, you see a person with his whole future ahead of him, a snapshot of the past. What led this person down the path to Azkaban? What made him go from the picture you see, to a supposedly deranged man who seems dedicated to trying to break into the school he must've called home once before?

You shake your head, brushing the new questions off; you're not here to analyze what turns a man into a murderer.

As you inspect the image further, one feature stands out among the rest, one that you swear you've seen before. One you can't believe you didn't notice sooner. Steely grey eyes, ones that are practically glowing despite the faded color of the image; grey eyes that are strikingly similar to Scruffy's, so much so that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end as you connect the dots you were so unwilling to believe had anything to do with each other. You thought you could leave this to the very last second, bury it down under investigating Snape's claims and maybe even forget about it as a result, but all the strange things you once took notice of about Scruffy are flooding back to you- his intelligence and the way he understands every word you say, barking back as if he's letting you know his response; the eyes that you knew deep down from the very start weren't animal in nature. And then there's the pièce de résistance- his being in the castle at the same time as Sirius. Maybe it was more than just the chance happening you've been trying so hard to believe.

The gnawing in your head is back again, and this time what it's trying to tell you doesn't sound so crazy anymore.

But, Sirius Black? Being the same dog that tried its best to be a lap dog during the few lunches that he shared with you? Scruffy is just so... Sweet. And he seems to have a better head on his shoulders than what you've seen of Sirius Black in the newspapers. The wanted image of him screaming as he's held down by Azkaban guards is nothing like the gentle giant of a dog you've been bringing food to. You look back at the yearbook picture of a Sirius Black from years ago, pursing your lips. Now that version of Sirius does seem more like the dog you've been hanging around...

But that would make Sirius Black an animagus- and don't they have to be registered? That way the ministry could keep track of them and stop things like this from happening. Nowhere on the wanted signs did it mention anything about Sirius having an animagus form.

Oh. That's it, isn't it?

You slap yourself on the forehead, and in the quiet of the library you pray no one hears the resounding smack that it causes. Of course, you idiot! They don't know! How else would Sirius have managed to be the first person to ever break out of Azkaban if he wasn't hiding something like that up his sleeve! When you thought to look for answers, you never expected the inkling you had would lead you to this, but you should've known. You're glad you're sitting down- feeling a little light headed as the situation at hand has become much too overwhelming.

What are you supposed to do with this information? Why did you have to go looking for something that wasn't any of your business? Everything you once believed to be an irrational stretch was all falling into place, leaving you with a theory that if true could lead to the recapture of Sirius Black. So why are you hesitating? You remain seated, making no attempt to break out into a run straight to the headmaster's office to tell him of your discovery. Your eyes remain locked on the picture of a grinning Sirius Black in the yearbook laid out in front of you.

If there's even an ounce of truth to the notion of Sirius Black being an animagus, then he's had a handful of opportunities to kill you if he wanted. Instead he chose to spend part of his days on the run hanging out with you in the disguise of a dog, getting pampered and fed like a common family pet. When you say it like that, you feel a bit weird; it seems awfully out of character for the blood thirsty killer he's been described as. Perhaps he was just buttering you up, making you keen to help out his dog form so you'd be willing to help out his human form when the time calls for it. If that's the case, you guess his plan was working out pretty perfectly, since you basically gave him the information he needed to break into the castle. Even worse, now that you've found that it's more than possible and very well could be true, you're not jumping to reveal such information. Can you get arrested for that?

You're hesitant to continue. This already feels bordering on being too much to handle and you honestly don't know what you're going to do with any further information you find. But the whole reason why you've spent half of your morning flipping through decades old yearbooks was to see if you can confirm what Snape said, not to accidentally give in to the very same crazy thought that you were trying to forget about with said task and confirm that Sirius Black is more than likely the same dog that's been throwing himself at you during lunch just for a few scraps of food and some attention. As big as that is, you can't stop now. You still have answers to find.

Godric, your need for the truth is starting to make you sound like a Ravenclaw.

You flip a few pages ahead, finding your way towards the L section. For him to believe Lupin could be helping Sirius, they had to have a history, right? As you scan through the rows of photos, Lupin stands out among the rest. His younger self is remarkably similar to his current one; so much so that you're certain that if the names of students weren't listed under their photos, you'd still be able to tell it was him, and it isn't even the scars that cover his face that makes you say that. His face looks tired, his hair disheveled yet he's giving a bashful smile, the type that makes your eyes scrunch up. If not for the aging of his face and the greying of his hair, he'd look the same as he did in his 7th year. You don't forget to note the color of his tie, red and gold, just like Sirius; and just like you.

Snape's speculation of Lupin's involvement is at least within the realm of reason. Lupin and Sirius were in the same year and in the same house, and that's enough for you to believe that they were acquainted with each other, but combined with Snape's suspicion you suspect they had to have been close friends; you don't just claim something like that about two people if they were nothing more than roommates.

He had a point, you admit, but there's one big flaw to it- Lupin couldn't have been anywhere close enough to secretly help Sirius - Scruffy? - sneak his way into the castle without you noticing him wandering around, and he looked to be only just returning to the main part of the castle when you bumped into him on your way to the courtyard. If anything, he had a better alibi than you did, and you doubt he'd be helping Sirius if he had bad intentions.

It's such a shame Snape is so rough around the edges, because if you knew he wouldn't berate you just for listening in on his conversation with Dumbledore in the first place, you'd love to grant him the knowledge of his theory being incorrect, if only to see the look on his face when he finds out he was wrong.

You've got to wonder though, how would Snape of all people have such knowledge of the two? And why does he seem so adamant that Lupin could be Sirius' accomplice, to the point where he had expressed his displeasure with the Headmaster before it was confirmed that Lupin was to be this year's DADA teacher?

Unless...

You continue forward, going further into the book to see if your hunch is correct, and when you reach the desired page, you feel the answer is written all over the sullen looking face of a young Severus Snape, his skin a ghastly pallid color and eyes dark and narrowed as he looks at the camera as if he's about to hex the person on the other side. So it isn't just Sirius Black and Professor Lupin who have a history together- Severus Snape had to have encountered them at least once as someone in the same year as them and a Slytherin, and you highly doubt that the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was any better then than it is now. Unresolved schoolyard drama, perhaps? If there's anyone who can hold a grudge, it's Snape.

Based on photos alone it seems that Lupin isn't the only one who hasn't changed much in terms of visuals since his time at Hogwarts, so who's to say that Snape hasn't changed much when it comes to mentality, as well? You wouldn't be surprised if Snape's concern came from a place of spite.

At least now you have a vague understanding of why, but it doesn't leave you as satisfied as you had hoped. You might know what Snape's reasoning is now, and the possible connection between Lupin and Sirius, but you're still left with the elephant in the room. You're thankful that the weather is so poor today, as it leaves you a good excuse for not going outside. You've found the truth out now, and you have a feeling you're going to have to face it sooner rather than later. Eventually the weather will clear, and whether it be tomorrow or the next day or some day after that, the unresolved issue of the dog-that's-not-really-a-dog that's probably going to expect you to return back to your tree like nothing ever happened will rear its head inevitably. If he is Sirius Black, he won't just brush off your sudden disappearance from the spot you obviously sit at almost every day for lunch, but you can't ignore what you know, and you can't just go charging up to a dog in the middle of the day and start grilling him until he reveals that he's actually Sirius Black- not only do you not want to accidentally start a rumor about you being off your rocker, but you doubt that even if your assumption is correct Sirius Black would go along with your request, at least not in broad daylight.

If you're going to play the fool and not go straight to the Headmaster with this sort of information, for reasons you still don't understand, then you'd need a plan; a plan to confront him on his lie of stringing you along into believing he's nothing more than an innocent animal, and a reason for why he's at Hogwarts in the first place.

You roll up your sleeve, checking the time it shows on your watch, and cringe a bit at the hour- the morning has passed you by and so has lunch. You stand from the chair, stretching as you lazily send the books back to where they belong. Perhaps a plan could wait until tomorrow, after you take up the opportunity to sleep without having unanswered questions keeping you awake, and it's not like you're going to get much sleep tomorrow anyway if you decide to go with the plan already forming in your head.

***

Monday comes fast, and you're eager to get to class and get the day over with. The sun is just beyond the clouds and the chance of rain had dwindled through the night, which meant whatever sort of danger you're about to willingly put yourself in all so you could prove a point to yourself can be done tonight. At first you thought that the homework you'll be drowning in by the end of the day would successfully take your mind off your recent discoveries, but as you walk to your third class of the day, Defense Against The Dark Arts, the heavy weight of the homework you haphazardly shoved into your bag after both N.E.W.T. Charms and Transfiguration has done nothing to help aside from causing you more stress.

You're just glad your next class is with Lupin; despite the possibility of him having once been close with Sirius Black, you know he's a good person, and it helps ease your worries to have your next class be one that feels less like work and more like an experience that one can actually tolerate with him at the helm.

When you walk into the classroom though, you find the opposite of what you expect from the teacher that balances out the darkness of the subject so well. The room is dark, with all the shutters on the outside of the windows shut tight, but you notice the projector is out behind the rows of tables. A few Slytherins walk past you as you stand in the doorway, excited at the possibility of being able to sleep through whatever presentation Lupin has planned. Lupin definitely seems more hands on than this, but you're not about to complain.

Nevermind. Maybe start complaining.

Instead of the cheery faced, kind-hearted Lupin greeting the class, it's Professor Snape who glides through the door of the room, moving his way around you and the students who still stand in the doorway, his cloak flying out behind him as he makes his way past the rest of the students who have yet to even sit down and to the projector set up behind the desks. He doesn't offer a single glance to anyone, despite the confused faces that are all staring at him.

"You won't be using your regular books today, so without any dawdling, put them back away. Quickly. The ones needed for this lesson are already at your desks." He taps his wand against the projector, the slides magically appearing as he does. He gives you and your classmates no time to further react, all of you rushing to your seats per his demands.

When you sit down and take in the subject displayed on the slide in front of you, you can't help the noise of confusion that escapes you. Werewolves? Has Snape decided to throw the whole syllabus out the window? You learned about them in 3rd year!

You're not the only one perplexed by the sudden change in material. Your desk partner leans in, giving you a sideway glance. "My younger sister had this class earlier, and she said he was teaching the same thing. What is he doing?"

You shake your head, equally as confused. Why was Lupin absent? And why was Snape teaching the same thing to completely different grade levels?

A Slytherin boy in another row raises his hand, holding the book up with the other in bewilderment. He doesn't even wait for his head of house to call on him before he points out the issue. "Professor Snape, we've learned all this stuff in 3rd year." Everyone seems relieved that he's taken one team and stated what everyone has on their mind, but it's dead silent as you wait for Snape's response. You're just thankful he's a Slytherin; Snape's a lot less likely to rag on a student from his own house, and Mondays are bad enough without having to see one of your classmates get publicly executed for speaking out of turn to the man.

You can feel the annoyance rolling off of Snape in waves as he turns towards the boy, his voice full of ice. "Seeing as you're all in your 7th year, testing your memory of such important topics will be vital for your upcoming N.E.W.T.S. I know Lupin may not be inclined to prepare you for such matters, but he's not here now, is he? The information you relearn about werewolves here today may just come in handy in the future. Repeating of such topics will only come as an unfortunate surprise if one does not remember the subject... Now turn to page 394." He grounds out his last words, turning away from the Slytherin boy and walking to the front of the class to begin the lesson. As he goes into the specifics of lycanthropy, you and your classmates have no choice but to begrudgingly accept his answer and start working.

You don't want to admit that Snape was correct in your forgetting of the subject, and as you go through the workload of the lesson, more and more information comes back to you on the topic of werewolves. You're not surprised Snape is using Lupin's sudden absence to put down his teaching skills, but you don't believe that he's reteaching old material, easy material, for the sake of the students and to assure their good grades on future exams- not one bit. Snape would never go so far for the betterment of his students, and if anything he'd be teaching more rigorous subjects beyond the 7th year curriculum just to make you sweat a little.

"Now," Snape starts, "Who can tell me the key differences between a werewolf and an animagus?"

You can't control yourself when you choke on air, the sharp intake of breath that you involuntarily take in at his question leaves you trying to stop yourself from drawing attention to your sudden coughing, heat rising to your cheeks. The subject of Animagi being at the forefront of your mind since yesterday being brought up isn't something you expected, and your reaction mirrors that.

Snape doesn't seem fazed, barely turning his head to look at you, "Unless it's a dire circumstance, please do your best to stop your incessant coughing, [Y/N]. This isn't Potions class and you cannot get out of an assignment by pretending to be ill."

You nod meekly, and when another Gryffindor behind you raises his hand to answer Snape's original question, you feel your shoulders sag in relief when his cutthroat gaze is diverted away from you.

"A werewolf has no control over their transformations, and they happen whether they want it to or not. Animagus can transform into an animal at will, any time and at their choosing." Answers the student.

You've experienced too many coincidences the past few days, but now it's just getting ridiculous. Did Snape just find out the stray he's been feeding is actually a man who just broke out of prison who happens to be able to turn into a dog, too?

Snape hides his satisfaction with the answer well, and continues. "Correct. And as some of you who are also taking Astronomy may know, tonight is a full moon. What do you suppose a werewolf would be doing now, just hours before their transformation begins?" The way he walks between the desks, eyes watching each student with a critical gaze, reminds you of a predator stalking its prey, looking for the weakest in the bunch; an easy target.

His words weigh heavy on your mind, and your first thought is of how Lupin's absence has just so happened to land on the same day as the full moon; the same day Snape decides to teach about werewolves; a topic you already learned about years ago.

Was he trying to make a joke? You've never known Snape to be one to do such things, but surely he can't be serious if what you think he's eluding to is right. Whatever he's trying to pull, it's obviously deliberate. But what are you missing?

You stare at the class around you, checking to see if anyone shares your reaction to his words and sees through the nature of his question, but no one seems the wiser. A few students are raising their hands, others writing down notes before they can do the same, and there's a pair of Slytherins nodding off just because they know they can get away with it. When you turn back away from sneaking a glance at your classmates, you feel yourself shrink back in your seat when you spot Snape's eyes on yours.

"[Y/N], since there seems to be more interesting things in the classroom for you to focus on, can you tell us?"

No one takes much notice to him singling you out, not after he's done it at least once to every person sitting in the room, but no matter how many times it happens to you, you still can't help the way the color drains from your face as Snape stands impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Due to how traumatic of an experience the werewolf transformation is, they'd most likely become reclusive, hiding away from any friends and family they may have and becoming very irritable. Their mental state would be a very delicate thing, because they know of the pain that's soon to follow." You don't want to give him the satisfaction of showing that you realize what he's trying to get at with such a question, but as your mind puts two and two together, you can't help if your face shows what you're thinking, and by the way Snape's dark eyes seem to glint at your response makes you suspect this was his plan all along.

"Keep your eyes on the board next time." You catch a glimpse of a hint of a smirk on his face as he turns away from you, and that's the final nail in the coffin. You didn't understand the possible connection between Snape and Lupin before, and why Snape sounded so adamant about Lupin helping Sirius Black; you thought it was as simple as Snape not getting along with Lupin and Sirius during his youth, but this is much more than a petty act of revenge for something as menial as a childhood grudge.

The way he questioned Lupin's innocence when it came to Sirius getting into the castle and how he spoke so venomously about his teaching, and now he's teaching about not only werewolves, but so clearly hinting at Lupin being a werewolf of all things?

And Snape wouldn't do something like this- so clearly trying to lead the students into believing something so extreme about their current DADA teacher, if it were not true. The repercussions would be severe if he was trying to slander Lupin without any proof. It looks like Snape knows even more than you do, because if Sirius Black is possibly an animagus, who's to say that what Snape is trying to reveal about Lupin isn't true? What's to say he's not a werewolf?

It's clear to you now; Snape knows Lupin's dirty little secret, and is doing everything he can to make sure everyone else does too. His hatred of the man, though you don't know the specifics of why, has gone too far this time. He's not just trying to get a man fired, he's trying to ruin his life.

By the end of class, you've tuned out everything, numbly going through the work and barely paying attention as Snape's announcement of homework is responded to with a chorus of groans.

"-And if anyone dares to complain about quidditch practice they can expect to be in my office serving detention instead." You catch him say, and with that, class is over, and the hurried shuffling of footsteps and chairs being pushed back as students try not to look too much like they're fleeing the classroom is heard over the sound of the projector shutting off.

"Are you going to sit there all day, [Y/N]? Or are you actually going to leave." Snape's voice snaps you out of your trance.

"Oh." Is all you can say, clumsily grabbing your things, tucking them close against your chest as you move past Snape, not wanting to be around him for any longer than you have to.

It's time for lunch, and you've got a favor you need to ask.

It's a shame you're in such a hurry, because when you rush past him, you miss the way his eyes narrow as he turns to stare at your retreating form, his suspicion so clear in the way he holds himself.

***

When you walk into the Great Hall, you spot the twins huddled together at the far end of the Gryffindor table, scribbling away at some parchment and most likely working on perfecting one of the many pranks they always have in the works. There are plenty of students piling into the Great Hall, loud chatter and laughter filling the space around you.

You walk past the other 7th years in your house; one perks up at the sight of you, beckoning you over.

"Are you on your way out, [Y/N]? It's so cold today, maybe you should stay. We don't want to have to carry you to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow because you decided to go and make yourself sick! Imagine the disappointment she'd feel if she found one of her future protégés isn't watching their health!" One says.

"I was planning on staying; do you think I have some kind of death wish?" Oh, if only they knew. "I'll catch up with you guys in a second- I've got a pair of really annoying twins to talk to."

"I see, we're not good enough for ya' are we? You're already replacing us with the newer models."

"Let's not get jealous, mummy loves you all equally." They shoo you off when you begin to jokingly blow them kisses, and with that you make your way over to sit down across from the twins. They both look up at you curiously; surprised to see you sitting down.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you have a hot date with the great outdoors right about now?"

Ooh, what to say? "Sorry, I told myself I wouldn't face the murderer disguised as a dog in the middle of the day; I'm just going to wait until night time so Filch will find my dead body tomorrow instead of an innocent first year taking a stroll." Yeah, No. "Too cold out, I don't want to lose any valuable toes all because I didn't want to be an extroverted Gryffindor for an hour. But listen- I was wondering, could I borrow that map of yours tonight?"

"The Marauders Map?" asks George. You nod.

"Unless there's another map that tells you where everyone in the castle is- that's the one." You say in a whisper, trusting that they wouldn't want anyone to overhear that part.

"So you do have a hot date! Tsk, Tsk. Sneaking out when there's a murderer lurking near the grounds, very bold of you, [Y/N]."

You roll your eyes, but you don't deny the assumption; you prefer that they believe that then tell them what you're really going to be up to, even if they wouldn't believe it. "Can I use it or not?"

"Well I don't know-"

"-if you can handle it."

"Come on! I've seen the map before, it's not anything new. If anything I've already proved myself to be capable with my wonderful act of kindness all those years ago when you two were just itty bitty first years. Think of it; you two returning the favor of me helping you out in my last year, using the very same map I inadvertently helped you acquire. Awfully poetic, isn't it?"

George puts a hand to his chin as he contemplates. "Well, I always assumed the joy of our company made us even. Didn't you, Fred?"

"You're absolute right, brother mine. It's not like we let you hang out with us for any other reason aside from obligation." You resist the urge to scoff.

"Pleaseee," you drag out the word, even batting your eyelashes as a last resort. "I'll give it back before we even leave for breakfast tomorrow."

"Fine." they say together, but not before exchanging some rather uncharacteristically serious looks between each other as they ponder their answer.

"But you swear to not share the secret of the map with whoever you're clearly sneaking off to be with?" Fred adds.

You nod briskly, wishing you could tell them it isn't a social call, but still rolling with it.

"So," George leans forward, his voice low. "Is it Oliver? We know you fancied him a while back."

A sly grin spreads onto Fred's face, and you scowl through the warm feeling that's rising to your cheeks. "Absolutely not! I haven't liked him since 5th year. Besides, do you really think Oliver Wood of all people would risk losing his precious sleep the night before quidditch practice to hang out with someone? I'd worry that he'd gone mad."

They laugh, especially considering how true your words are, and soon you part with them with the promise of meeting back at the end of the day; retreating back to the other end of the table and spending the rest of your lunch enjoying some much needed normalcy among your 7th year friends. For the first time in days you're able to place the thought of Sirius Black into the back of your mind, but deep down you know that it's only temporary.

***

You wait patiently, or rather impatiently, for Fred and George in the common room after dinner, pacing back and forth for them to arrive and ignoring the odd looks you receive from your fellow Gryffindors as they make their way up to the dorms for the night. When they finally arrive, you endure their whole shtick on how protecting the map protects their legacy as the best pranksters in Hogwarts history, and you even have to go to such lengths as swearing to them that if you don't come back with the map they have your permission to practice all their future pranks on you before they pull them. Once they advise you on all the best exits with little risk of getting caught, it's off to bed for you, and you spend the next few hours laying under your covers, wide awake and waiting until the last Gryffindor leaves the common room and the last of your roommates fall asleep so you can make your leave.

The common room is so quiet when you finally tip toe your way down the steps from the dorms that when Percy's old rat - Scabies? Scabbers? - that he gave to the youngest Weasley brother a few years ago scuttles past you, trying to outrun a hissing cat as it chases after his tail, you're terrified that the sudden noise of their fighting will alert one of the students and your plans will be foiled before you could even use the map in the first place. But thankfully after one harsh, "Shh!" from you that you made sure was only loud enough for the two animals to hear, you left the safety of the common room without any trouble. It's a good thing the Fat Lady's substitute for the portrait hole is a bit of a slacker.

For the first few floors between the tower and the main one, you don't even need the map; it's not as if you haven't snuck out without the use of something as helpful as the Marauders Map before, so you can make your way pretty far without needing it. You've made the trek from the Gryffindor Tower to the kitchen in the basement many times, but to be fair, you were never trying to sneak out of the castle then.

And here you are now; kicking yourself, really, truly kicking yourself for thinking this was a good idea. Maybe you should just turn around and redirect yourself to the kitchen, grab some Shock-o-Choc ice cream and call it a night. Scruffy is just a dog, and Sirius Black is just an unhinged murderer! End of story.

Yeah, no. Your legs are still moving, and you're still walking to your potential death.

Your wand acts as your guide in the dark labyrinth of Hogwarts' many corridors, and with the Marauders Map finally open, you make your way freely through them with little chance of being caught. But getting caught by a teacher and risking a slap on the wrist and maybe an hour or two of detention wouldn't even be the worst thing to possibly happen to you tonight. Dying, maybe? That seems high up on the list.

Why you're doing this, you still don't know. Was your need to confirm what you know as true so strong that you're willing to let this be the hill you die on? Sirius Black, regardless of what your intuition is telling you, and regardless of the friendly demeanor he displayed to you as a dog, is still a convicted killer, and even if you put that aside, twelve years trapped in what can only be described as purgatory might make a person a little not all there, to put it lightly. Yet there's something deep inside of you, a feeling that reassures you that you're a good judge of character, and that maybe, just maybe, what the Wizarding World believes about Sirius Black isn't true.

You shake your head; your parents are going to be awfully mad if you die before graduation.

Fred and George's previous instructions on how to get out of the castle despite all the extra security measures are surprisingly concise, and after a few more turns (and a few extra when you spot the approaching footsteps of Professor McGonagall and have to hide) you find yourself climbing out of a half open window inside of a locked -now unlocked- supplies closet on the first floor, which apparently Filch always leaves open due to the fumes of the magically enhanced cleaning products. As you tumble out of the window and hit the ground below rather roughly, you can't help but be amazed at how easy Scruffy made it seem.

Everything seems brighter under the light of the full moon, so you take to walking in the shadows so no one can see you if they decide to look outside, putting away your wand that you were previously using to light your way through the halls and resorting back to good old' guess work and hoping your eyes adjust soon. You don't know where you're looking exactly, but you hope you don't have to look too far to find him. Going into the Forbidden Forest alone, in the dark and on a full moon is a no-no even if you do stay on one of the paths. You walk nearer towards it, hoping that if you call out for Scruffy, he'll appear. And if he doesn't, maybe you'll just call for Sirius, and hope the dementors that are floating just beyond the grounds don't hear. You don't have to search for long, because you do a double take when you look back down at the map in your hands to see where you're going and find the name SIRIUS BLACK written above a set of pacing footsteps just up ahead.

Well, you're going to get your answer whether you like it or not now. Your voice is barely a whisper when you mutter the words "mischief managed," and carefully fold the map up, tucking it into the back pocket of your pants and slipping further into the darkness, closer to the Forbidden Forest, the same place you didn't want to go near so late at night, where you'll either find Sirius Black The Human, or Sirius Black The Animagus, who's been playing you for a fool and practically driven you mad within the past few days.

Any previous attempts to tell yourself you're wrong disappear right before your eyes when you spot Scruffy standing in the place where Sirius Black's footsteps were just shown on the map. Hidden under the shadows of the Forbidden Forest's trees that blocked out the light of the moon, he's nothing but a black ominous looking figure on all fours, and he looks more like a spectral being than a scary looking dog. He's pacing back and forth, ears perked up in the air as if he was already listening for something.

"Scruffy!" You whisper to gain his attention, the sound of your voice cutting through the silence. You refrain from calling him Sirius outright, for fear of scaring him away before you get him to admit the truth. His head whips around at the sound, and he doesn't hesitate to bound over to you, but he doesn't look interested in what you have to say, or what you could possibly be offering him so late at night. In true Not-a-Dog fashion, he's doing something different than what you'd expect from a regular dog that's only looking for food. His head pushes against your side roughly, butting you away from the area and pushing you back in the direction of the castle. His weight against you causes you to stumble a bit, and in order to get him to stop you tap him lightly on the nose. He snorts in response, brushing off the action and not giving up.

"Woah- Woah! Hold it; you're not getting rid of me. We need to talk." He stops at the serious tone of your voice, and in the back of your mind you know it wasn't just your voice, it was the words, the ones he could so clearly understand. He looks up at you from his pushing, and tilts his head to the side questioningly.

You breathe in deeply, taking a step away from him and crossing your arms, letting one hand discretely dip below near your wand that's sticking out of your pocket, just in case.

All cards are on the table now.

"I know it's you. You're Sirius black, aren't you? Hiding out as an animagus."