The Marauders: Year Four

Addled Minds

Addled Minds

Sirius woke up, shivering, a new dusting of snow falling over him, sprinkling his fur with little white crystals that clung a moment then melted away. Clouds rose from his nostrils as he lay, blinking into the dark. He sat up, shaking the dusting off himself, looking about. Bilius Weasley was gone, the bottle lying in the bracken beneath the edge of the trees. The fence was still intact, a small amulet rocking in the wind, glowing green in the pale blue moonlight. His muscles were sore from the fall and he struggled to sit up, looking around, taking deep breaths... but he couldn't smell Remus.

He got up, limping as he moved across the ground, his paws slipping on the snow. The fence had been damaged - not enough to let go, but enough a few of the posts were cracked. Sirius looked at the place where it'd been broken and there were paw prints in the snow on the other side, shreds in the dirt where the wolf had scraped and clawed and tried to dig through... but hadn't succeeded.

Bilius Weasley must've run away.

Sirius hoped he had, at least.

He sat in the snow, breathless, and transformed back into a person. It wasn't until he was sitting in the snow, shivering, that he realized his nose was bleeding and a trickle of it fell across his upperlip as he leaned against the fence posts, panting for breath as the cold and the pain in his ribs stole each lungful he took away.

Finally, he struggled to his feet, pushing himself up by gripping onto the fence post. He knocked a small string of bells with his fist and they jingled in the night, the sound of them terribly sharp in the silence. It was his shoulder and right rib cage that hurt the most, and he clutched at them with his left arm as he staggered, a bit dizzy, toward the village down the path. He could see Bilius Weasley's steps in the snow, faint for the snow must've only just begun as he'd made the steps, and he followed them through the trees that lined the path to the clearing by the Shrieking Shack, and out to the sleeping town. The prints led right into the Hog's Head pub.

Sirius pushed open the door.

"BIGGGG... WILD LOOKIN' THING... WITH WILD YELLOW EYES... I'M TELLING YOU LOT! IT'S OUT THERE..." Bilius was shouting, his arms flailing about the air, sounding positively mental. "FANGS S'LONG AS MY ARM, THEY WAS!"

Patrons around the room chuckled from behind their steins of firewhiskey and mead. One man shouted, "Have another couple'a pints, Weasley!" and the crowd of them cracked up rowdily, hooting and laughing.

The bartender was wiping the counter, shaking his head, his eyes glued on Bilius warily.

"I haven't drank a lot tonight -" Bilius argued, but he was so obviously lying... Sirius could still smell him as plain as ever, even with his human nose.

A middle aged wizard shouted, "Right, Weasley ain't been drinkin' - that'll be the day!"

"Don't any of you believe me?!?" Bilius pleaded, looking quite desperate.

People were laughing at him.

"I believe you," Sirius said, and his voice rang over the rest of the room, bold and loud. He clutched his ribs and stared across the room at Bilius. "I believe you, mate," he said a second time, a bit quieter.

Everyone had turned to look at Sirius in surprise - including Bilius.

"That's the Black boy," a couple whisperers said quietly.

"Sirius Black... Orion Black's son."

"Dark family, they are."

"Dangerous," whispered a witch. "Very dangerous."