All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Autumn 1995

Ah, the moon’s too bright

The chain’s too tight

The beast won’t go to sleep

I’ve been running through these promises to you

That I made and I could not keep

Ah, but a man never got a woman back

Not by begging on his knees

Or I’d crawl to you baby and I’d fall at your feet

And I’d howl at your beauty like a dog in heat

And I’d claw at your heart, and I’d tear at your sheet

I’d say please (please)

I’m your man

 

Wednesday 1st September 1995

“Sturgis Podmore,” Dumbledore said, heavily, “Has been arrested.”

He was sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place, which was packed end to end with Order members. The emergency meeting had been called only an hour before, creating a frenzy of chaos as everyone scrambled to arrive. Sirius had been ushering people down the stairs for the better part of twenty minutes, and had had to wrestle the heavy curtains around his mother’s dreadful portrait closed no less than seven times.

“What?!” Molly yelped, at the same time that Moody muttered gruffly,

“S’pose that explains why he never turned up this morning…”

They’d nearly been late getting to Platform 9 and ¾, waiting around for Podmore to show up—Moody had insisted that they needed a guard for Harry, and apparently he’d felt that himself, Tonks, and Molly weren’t enough. In the end, though, they’d gone without Sturgis, and everything had been perfectly fine—no dark wizards jumping out of alleyways to hex them, no death eaters waiting at the station to attack. Padfoot had even tagged along, despite Dumbledore’s admonishments to remain at Grimmauld Place and Molly’s frustrated grumbling, and not a single person had questioned it; the only one who had even looked twice at Padfoot was one of Fred and George’s friends, who’d smiled and patted his head.

All in all, Sirius was beginning to think that Dumbledore’s warnings were all a load of codswallop. Who cared if Voldemort and the death eaters knew that he was an animagus now—it wasn’t as though he couldn’t take care of himself. And nobody else would look twice at a dog wandering the streets, so really, it was (mostly) perfectly safe. And it had been so nice to feel the sun on his fur, the early autumn breeze on his face…

“He was arrested last night,” Dumbledore went on, ignoring the outbursts from Molly and Alastor, “Trying to break into the Department of Mysteries.”

“The Department of Mysteries?” Hestia Jones asked, at the same time that Tonks said, “Break in?” And Molly cried, “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Moody growled, magical eye whirling to look at each face gathered around the table, “Death eaters.”