Chapter 236: Sirius Black

In the depths of the Forbidden Forest, during the night...

A large black dog was racing desperately through the woods, its lungs ready to burst. The shapes of the trees in the pitch-black forest seemed to come alive, and the dog leaped over a small stream, swiftly turning around to glance warily behind him.

The terrifying three-headed dog hadn't pursued him.The origin of this chapter's debut can be traced to N0v3l--B1n.

Collapsing onto the ground, he stretched his body. He caught a glimpse of the moon, just past full. He didn't know how his old friend was doing right now, nor whether he'd draw his wand and hex him the moment he saw him.

But he had indeed considered it – on the day his old friend transformed – to abduct him and reveal the truth.

Regrettably, the once lively Shrieking Shack seemed unusually desolate. Thick layers of dust covered it, bearing no signs of recent use.

"Perhaps I'm the only one who remembers it."

He thought, perhaps this was why the passage to Honeydukes wasn't sealed.

However, even if it were sealed, it wouldn't hinder him. He knew numerous secret passageways. The one-eyed witch on the fourth floor of the castle was his best option, but it led to Honeydukes, and there were too many customers there.

The Dementors of Hogsmeade patrolled incessantly, so he quickly retreated upon seeing them from a distance.

He didn't dare to take chances. There might be only one opportunity, and this wasn't like school or dueling with that group of Death Eaters; this was war. He reminded himself to endure.

But he didn't know how long he could hold on. In the past, there would be someone to remind him, to tell him not to act impulsively. But now, he was alone.

Just like a while ago, when he couldn't resist sneaking to the edge of the Quidditch pitch, just to catch a glimpse of that messy-haired boy, looking just like his father. At that moment, he'd had a strong urge to rush out. He was nearly driven mad by the feeling.

He also didn't know if information about Animagus form was leaked. His old friend had seen him transform so many times, just as he could recognize that wretched rat at first glance. Surely his old friend could recognize him too.

Perhaps at this moment, Ministry spies were passing around a photo of a black dog.

But they wouldn't recognize his current form. The black dog got up, looking at its reflection in the stream, emitting a low, satisfied chuckle.

In the water, a gaunt and large dog with a well-defined skeletal structure stared back. Its black fur was tangled and matted, forming knots and tangles. Not much different from a stray dog.

Maybe he could return to Diagon Alley, rummage through some trash bins... The black dog swallowed and shook its head. No, caution was paramount.

Approaching the stream, the large dog took a few sips of water. His stomach convulsed, and his eyes kept scanning the water, hoping to catch sight of a small fish or even a shrimp. But he was undoubtedly disappointed.

"I can't transform into a human. If I've appeared in Diagon Alley, I can't show up anywhere else, especially near Hogwarts," he thought.

On that rainy night, the opportunity had been too good. He couldn't resist sneaking into the castle; portraits wouldn't care about him. He was just a wizard's pet or maybe a companion that Hagrid had brought for his own dog.

By the time a professor found him, it would be over.

Yet the buzzing sound at the castle's entrance sent him fleeing. He didn't know what it was, perhaps some sort of alarm?

The black dog got up, casting a glance in the direction of Hogwarts before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

He was planning to make a trip to the Muggle town; it was relatively safe there, and he could sneak into Muggle houses to find some food.

Soft, white bread; fresh, delicious vegetables; and of course, meat.

Saliva gushed uncontrollably from the black dog's mouth.

He jogged leisurely; it was the most energy-efficient way and a recent discovery. Before, he'd always be the one in the lead.

The sky gradually grew brighter. The black dog stealthily entered the closest little house, painted in red, his favorite color.

There was no television in the room, which was even better. He didn't want to see news reporting him as a dangerous fugitive.

The black dog's nose twitched repeatedly. He walked into the kitchen, where he spotted a snowy white cat. Too tender-looking, not very smart, he thought.

Ignoring the cat's bristling fur, he picked up a large bone from the kitchen and patted the white cat's head before leaving, leaving behind a dirty paw print.

Exiting the little house, he carried the meat away quietly. On the way, he saw two short, middle-aged men peering around.

They whispered to each other:

"Ready to pick a target?"

"Not sure yet, this town is too poor. How about somewhere else?"

"No, let's just pick any."

Suddenly, they saw a black dog emerging from the shadows, its bony frame exposed, teeth bared, eyes staring menacingly at them.

"Run!"

The black dog watched them disappear, his mood improving. He let out a howl of satisfaction. The barking of dogs in the town echoed one after another, and a few houses' lights turned on.

"Damn it, I've done something foolish again."

This place wasn't safe; the black dog retreated into the bushes, carried the bone in his mouth, and swiftly left.

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