Padfoot and his Pup

16. | Meeting the Godfather- Part II

Sirius flipped through the Quidditch magazine, sitting on the sofa in his hospital room. It was not even seven thirty and still too early to call it a night.

The Healer had conducted the mandatory examination and left only five minutes ago after dropping off his dinner. They wouldn't bother him until tomorrow for breakfast.

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

Sirius dropped the magazine in his hand and his eyes shot towards his wand which was glowing a bright red.

Damnit!

He was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed his wand and pocketed it. The corridor was empty. All patients were in their rooms and the Healers had wrapped up their shift. The night shift Healers wouldn't arrive for the next ten minutes.

He couldn't risk using the floo as it would cause a lot of noise. That left him with only one option.

The black dog ran at top speed, down the stairs and towards the exit. It didn't take him long to get there.

Once outside, he transformed back.

All the while, there was this horrible feeling inside him and worry for his godson only seemed to increase with each second.

Was he ill? Hurt? Or did the alert have something to do with Harry's relatives?

Please be okay, pup.

It had been a while since he'd apparated. Approximately a decade. There was a good chance he might have lost touch. He braced himself and took a deep breath.

You can do this, Black. You better be able to do this. That boy may need you right now.

Number Four, Privet Drive. He repeated the address in his head and closed his eyes.

And then he was sucked into that familiar tube of darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a Muggle neighbourhood, standing in front of a house. The number four sign was polished and gleaming in the moonlight.

His Animagus senses could make out a variety of noises coming from inside: shouting, sniffling, a thud, the television.

Dammit! What was going on in there?

I'm here now, kiddo.

He went up the front steps of the house and knocked. He hoped Harry was here.

There was some shuffling and the television's volume was turned down. He could hear footsteps approaching and the door opened.

Vernon Dursley was exactly how Harry had described. A walrus of a man with no neck, a red face, bulging eyes and oily hair that had been combed to a side.

He was panting slightly like he had been working hard.

"Can I help you, sir?"

His eyes took in Sirius' dark blue track pants, white t-shirt and home slippers.

"Good evening, Mr. Dursley. My name is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. I'd like to see my godson for a minute."

The man's eyes widened. "Godson? You're one of them lot! No, you cannot see him now! I ask that you leave immediately. The fr-boy is busy."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Vernon, noticing the slip. "I insist."

Sirius could practically feel the nervousness and fear radiating from the beefy man. What was he afraid about?