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December 12th, 1979
He had only been gone, turned his back, for just a second. An hour or two.
Then again, perhaps that was long enough.
Long enough for everything happy and relieving, to suddenly be ripped away from him just like that in the image of scorching ash where the tent used to be. Just like that he knew that everything had gone to hell.
And he had only looked away for a second.
In his immediate panic, Snuffles had transformed from a dog to a frantic Sirius Black in a matter of seconds. Searching the grounds, the wood, anywhere for his brother. For Tasia. Hoping to find anything.
Had there been an attack? No, it didn't look like there was any struggle. No blood spilled anywhere. No spells casted and lodging dents into barks of trees. The only thing that was troubling was the destroyed tent and the subtle smell of a werewolf. A stench he was used to after years of running with a werewolf.
Sirius was far too panicked to think clearly, to rationalize any ideas of what could've happened. All he could think of was—werewolf—Fenrir Greyback—ambush. It was probably unlikely that the monster would've found them here. They were all the way in London, hiding somewhere and waiting for their next attack. But could he really guarantee that? What if somehow they found out? What if somehow...
Merlin, he was starting to sound like Tasia. With the way his heart continued to slam against his ribcage and the trembling of his hands, he could understand her paranoia now. Everything was just too dangerous, too unpredictable. Too warlike.
He remembered how both her and Regulus used to tense at every sound outside of the tent, how Tasia took the extra precaution to surround the tent with wards every chance she got. Regulus, despite his weakened state, would always snap at her for being reckless or too flippant about things when really, in hindsight, it wasn't that big of a deal. At the time, Sirius thought nothing of it.
At the time, Sirius had been foolish.
Fuck. He should've been here. He shouldn't have wandered off to try and communicate to the others, who no doubt was probably going crazy over his two week disappearance.
When communication failed, he had continued further off to find a place to transform back into a human, stretch and take a break from being in a dog form for so long. It had been the longest he had held his form. He would've considered that impressive if Remus' voice didn't constantly poke at his mind. Staying in the form too long could have irreversible consequences. I don't want you hurting yourselves just because you guys want to help me.
And not wanting to test that theory—even though he was quite the challenger—Sirius wanted to keep his human looks thank you.
But if he had been here, would he have been much help? Sirius wasn't known to be exactly the most skilled dueler, he could've only slowed them down or worse, gotten them caught. If they haven't been caught already.
