They emerged once more from the iron gates of Azkaban fortress.
Peter Pettigrew's body hovered in the air, his crumpled robes wrapping his limp legs and arms, swaying slightly in the howling gale. Massive waves crashed against the jagged rocks. A dozen Dementors floated about seven or eight feet away.
"Where should we go, sir?" Anthony asked, glancing up at Sirius. "Hogwarts or St. Mungo's?"
"Hogwarts, I would say," Dumbledore said. "Rufus?"
Scrimgeour was staring at the white light emanating from his wand tip, the deep grooves on his face starkly illuminated. "Me?" He sounded weary. "I must return to the Ministry, Dumbledore… The events of tonight mean many, many reports to be filed…"
"My sincere apologies, Rufus," Dumbledore said.
The small boat they'd arrived in still rocked in the ink-black water by the dock. Dumbledore stepped in first. Scrimgeour hesitated, offering Anthony a polite but brief nod, then followed Dumbledore into the boat. Anthony helped Sirius board. There was no room left for Snape and the floating corpse of Peter Pettigrew.
Anthony, Dumbledore, and Scrimgeour exchanged a look. Anthony stood, helping Sirius lie awkwardly on his side across one of the benches. He then stepped back onto the dock, steadying himself against a wooden post. The bear lying on the planks shifted its head, its gaze following Anthony's movement.
Snape stood on the dock, Peter's body suspended beside him, his dark eyes fixed on Anthony.
"Mr. Scrimgeour can steer, and he's heading to London," Anthony explained. "I expect Professor Dumbledore's Apparition is more reliable. You don't mind a separate boat, Professor Snape?"
Scrimgeour was already waving his wand, conjuring another dinghy. He was lashing the two boats together. At Anthony's words, he looked up sharply. "Ah, yes. You can steer one of these, can't you, Professor Anthony?"
"Er, not really," Anthony said, climbing into the new boat. "But I have other methods."
Snape followed in silence. Anthony took that as assent. He turned to the Dementors still lingering nearby.
…
Dementors circled the boat. They had plunged into the fog, losing sight of Dumbledore and Scrimgeour's vessel. Anthony's Lumos spell illuminated only a tiny pocket of space around them, occasionally catching a fluttering Dementor's cloak in the gloom.
Snape gripped the gunwale, his face a blank mask as he stared into the thick mist, his eyes dark and hollow. Peter's corpse lay between his feet and Anthony's, rolling with the boat's lurches, the strange compulsion it had exerted on Anthony now gone.
"Are you alright, Professor Snape?" Anthony asked.
"Perfectly splendid. As well as anyone can be while practically rubbing shoulders with Dementors," Snape replied in a flat, dead tone. "Thank you for your concern."
"Well… sorry," Anthony said.
He couldn't help but feel sorry for Snape. He hadn't suggested Sirius share this boat—summoning a Patronus in such close quarters seemed unwise—but he suspected that for Snape, neither Anthony, nor the dead Peter, nor the seven or eight Dementors flanking them, were ideal traveling companions.
…
The Dementors delivered them to the edge of the fog bank and, just like last time, turned back towards Azkaban.
Anthony realized they didn't know Hogwarts' precise location. He'd only asked them to point the boat towards Scotland. He wasn't sure they'd even understood the request, but the boat had carved a straight path through the churning waves. Anthony could only hope the Dementors' knowledge of geography wasn't utterly abysmal.
With the Dementors gone, Snape seemed to relax a fraction. Peter's body remained a limp sprawl on the deck. Snape lifted the hem of his expensive robes slightly, ensuring the thinning hair on Peter's head didn't brush against the fabric.
They waited in silence. In the deep night, Anthony couldn't tell how far they were from land. The crests of nearby waves faintly glimmered with his Lumos light, but beyond that lay only a vast, soundless dark. All they felt was the wind whipping past and the relentless rocking of the boat.
An unknowable time later, the boat finally stopped. It was a desolate, unfamiliar cove, a few weathered fishing vessels moored nearby, their timbers groaning in the wind. It was impossible to tell if they were abandoned or not.
He and Snape disembarked.
The moment they stepped onto solid ground, Peter floating between them, the magically-guided boat vanished without a sound, as if it had never existed.
"I wonder where we are," Anthony muttered.
Snape made a noise—something between a scoff and an agreement. He was squinting, trying to read a signpost near where Peter's body hovered.
…
They reached Hogsmeade village mere moments after Dumbledore. Dumbledore had conjured a stretcher for Sirius, who now floated upon it, lying flat.
They moved quickly through the empty streets. Under the pale glow of the streetlamps, the floating forms of Sirius and Peter cast long, unsettling shadows.
Anthony didn't know if it was just him, but as they skirted the Black Lake and started up the path to Hogwarts, a wave of relief washed over him. The night had held too much.
…
Professor McGonagall arrived swiftly upon seeing his red sparks.
"What's happened, Henry?" she asked, then saw Dumbledore and Snape. "Oh, mercy! Severus! Albus! You found him?"
"We did," Anthony said. "We brought him back." Sirius let out a faint moan from the stretcher.
"And we brought something else back," Snape said darkly, gesturing for McGonagall to see Peter's body.
"Good heavens!" Professor McGonagall gasped. "Peter Pettigrew!"
"He is dead," Snape stated coldly. "Black went to kill him."
Professor McGonagall stared down at Peter's body, one hand clutching at her chest, drawing sharp breaths.
"But, crucially, Sirius is not the murderer," Dumbledore said gently. "Nevertheless, I'm afraid we are still in for significant trouble. I hope you are all prepared for that."
Professor McGonagall looked up at him, utterly bewildered. "Albus, what on earth is going on?"
"A long story, Minerva. But I shall ensure Peter Pettigrew receives a proper burial," Dumbledore said, nodding to two house-elves who had appeared silently. "Thank you. If you would."
"This is not luggage," one elf said, bowing deeply to Dumbledore. "But Dobby is happy to serve Professor Dumbledore. Dobby will move anything."
They put their heads together, conferring in whispers, then looked up. Dobby examined Peter's corpse, gave a sharp snap of his fingers, and Peter vanished.
"Where did he go?" Anthony asked.
Dobby bowed to him. "Dobby has put him somewhere not scary. He can be buried when Professor Dumbledore finds the right place."
"That will not be long. Thank you, Dobby," Dumbledore said, turning back to McGonagall. "Before I explain, let us get Sirius to the hospital wing. I fear we must disturb dear Poppy Pomfrey at this late hour once again."
…
Under Madam Pomfrey's care, Sirius regained consciousness quickly. He still looked terribly weak, but the first thing he did upon opening his eyes was try to sit up.
"Traitor…" he croaked. Then his eyes swept across the clean, brightly lit hospital wing, finally registering his surroundings. Under Madam Pomfrey's raised eyebrow, Sirius lowered his arm and sank back into the pillows with a groan.
"I messed up, didn't I, Albus?" Sirius rasped. "But I couldn't believe it. That traitor—that rat—didn't the Wizengamot sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss? How did it suddenly become life imprisonment?"
Dumbledore regarded him gravely, not answering the question.
"Sirius," Dumbledore said. "Do you know what you have done?"
Sirius sighed, struggling to push himself up to lean against the headboard.
"Yes, yes, I know," he said. "I sneaked out of the hospital wing this afternoon—" Madam Pomfrey gave a disapproving hmph, "—went to Gringotts for some money, bought a few things in Diagon Alley to bring back for Harry and the others. I got hungry. Saw a fast-food place on the corner…" He gave a weak smile. "Been a long time since I had fast food…"
"For the sake of your constitution, Mr. Black!" Madam Pomfrey interjected.
"Alright, sorry," Sirius said. "I bought some chips and four sandwiches. Thought I'd share them with Harry and the others when I got back. Figured they might join me for dinner."
"Merlin's beard, Sirius! Sandwiches!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.
"They smelled good," Sirius said defensively. "I ate the chips. Then I saw the paper. The paper said Peter's final sentence was life in Azkaban. But I distinctly remembered the Wizengamot court declaring the Kiss.
"I couldn't believe it. Minerva, I don't know if you realize, but Azkaban… it's not quite as terrible for an Animagus. You see, when we become the animal, our emotions… simplify. When it got unbearable, I'd turn into a dog in my cell… The Dementors probably just wondered why my feelings suddenly got so basic. But there are plenty of half-mad souls in Azkaban… Anyway, they never caught on.
"But Peter—Wormtail—he's an illegal Animagus too. And I have no doubt he'd figure out the Dementors' weakness faster than I did." He gave a cold, mirthless laugh. "He was always clever when it came to saving his own skin."
Professor McGonagall looked appalled. "And so you decided to go to Azkaban? Sirius, your sense of responsibility—"
"My sense of responsibility is why I didn't go immediately!" Sirius snarled, the sound like a dog's bark.
He froze for a second after the outburst, shook his head, and lowered his voice. "I didn't go immediately. I thought of Harry. I promised him I'd come back. So I packed my things, decided to return to Hogwarts first. After all, that rat would have a hell of a time escaping all that water…"
Dumbledore nodded. "Quite."
"I got back to Hogsmeade, but Honeydukes was crowded," Sirius continued. Anthony found that odd but stayed quiet, sensing they were nearing the crucial part.
"So I decided to take an old route back. I obviously couldn't use the front gates, not with Filch and Mrs. Norris on patrol. Anyway… I went into the Shrieking Shack."
Professor McGonagall's expression showed she instantly remembered what was in the Shrieking Shack.
"I saw Peter there," Sirius said, his voice rising again. He leaned forward against the headboard, eyes blazing. "He said he'd already escaped Azkaban."
"And then I saw James's body…" He swallowed hard. "I rushed forward. James's body looked too young. I stopped. Realized it was Harry's body.
"I couldn't believe Harry could be dead. But Wormtail appeared again. Wormtail—that's Peter. It was… it was our nickname for him. Me, James, and Remus. We always called him Wormtail.
"He said he had no choice. That he couldn't see how to save his own skin without sacrificing Harry. He wept and said he had no choice. He'd offered Harry to his master, just like he'd gleefully offered up James and Lily. I couldn't take it."
The hospital wing was utterly silent.
Sirius drew a shaky breath, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he repeated, "I couldn't take it. I turned into the dog. I killed him. Then I suddenly realized it was a Boggart. I remembered he should still be in Azkaban. That I could still stop it all. This time I wouldn't be too late."
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