The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

XLIV: 1 February, 1994

Sirius Black opened the door of the Room of Requirement and stuck his head out into the corridor. It was silent, dark, the portraits all along the wall asleep and soundly so. Roger Crookshanks slipped out around his ankles, walking down the length of the hall, bottle brush tail high, paused at the end of it, his glowing incandescent eyes looking about, then he turned back - nothing but two bright yellow dots in the dark - and let out a low merrr-ow.

Sirius nodded, slipping into the corridor and closed the door, twisting the knob to keep it silent as it hit the jamb. He moved slowly, his frail frame close to the wall, his face dark with growth of some time without shaving, eyes darting over the portraits and painting he was passing.

Meeeerrrow.

"Shut up Roger, you'll get us bloody caught," Sirius hissed. "I heard you the first bleedin' time you impatient little --"

The cat hissed softly and Sirius shut up.

They moved in pauses and quick dashes along the corridors, through the castle. A couple of the suits of armor turned their heads, following his progress, but no other indication was made that there was any notice of Sirius's presence. He tiptoed up the stairs, carefully taking only the ones that he knew were not creaky, praying with each lift and drop of his foot that he wouldn't find one of them had become creaky that hadn't been back in 1978 - the last time he'd walked these stairs freely.

It was slow, it took ages it seemed, but finally Roger Crookshanks had led Sirius up to the top of Gryffindor Tower without incident. Sirius stood in the shadows, looming for a moment or two, getting up the nerve he needed now.

"You can do this," he murmured under his breath. "You can do this. So what if it lands you back at Azkaban, so what if it gets you kissed by the dementors. You'll have done what you came to do - you came to kill the traitor. It shouldn't have taken this long to do it, you've let yourself be distracted. You've let Prongs and Lilith down long enough... their killer's had twelve years of luxurious living with the Weasleys and it's time you take his rotten little rat life... You can do this... you've nothing else to live for except exacting this ickle bit of revenge..."

Roger Crookshanks sat primly in a pool of moonlight that sliced through the dark in the hall, staring at Sirius expectantly.

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming, don't look at me like that, you bleeder," he muttered. Sirius drew a deep breath, and started forward.

He was lucky, though, that he'd paused - for suddenly the wall swung open and Sirius had only enough tie to throw himself up the stair well that went up to the tiptop of Gryffindor Tower, where the overlook was that he and James used to smoke from all of the time. He pressed his back to the wall, his heart in his throat as he held still, holding his breath.

"And I don't want to hear another peep out of yeh or I'll be the one takin' points away from Gryffindor me-self!"

McGonagall's voice rang through the corridor, then the sound of the portrait door closing, and a deep sigh. "What am I going to do with them?" she muttered, "The lot of them! One in the morning - honestly - even when we won the Cup in my day -- like Flea all over again --" and Sirius peeked 'round the corner to see McGonagall in her tartan dressing gown.

Sirius slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the step. He took a few deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling.

"Pss, pss," McGonagall said quietly and Sirius could hear Roger Crookshanks purring loudly. "Good little pud," she said, her voice soft, gentle, and distinctly Scottish. "Yehrrr a good little pud... Such a beautiful, good puddy."

Sirius closed his eyes.

Something about her voice, about the tone of her words, the gentleness of them... He wanted to go to her.