Prologue

Early November, 1981

Padfoot ran. He ran until his muscles screamed and his bones groaned and every breath felt like death. Tears streamed down his mangy, black face, mingling with the rain and mud as he loped onward. Taking the form of Padfoot gave him the instincts and endurance of his canine alter-ego, but it didn't do a thing to stop the pain of the past few days.

James. Lily. Harry.

Peter Pettigrew.

His hackles rose as he growled under his breath. He would have killed the man himself if Pettigrew hadn't decided to save him the effort by well and truly blasting himself off the face of the earth, all to avoid suffering the consequences of his actions. The pain in his chest was suddenly too much, and Padfoot tumbled to a stop, curling up on himself under the cover of an ancient tree. Every part of his body yelled at him to cool down before he stopped to rest, but the exhaustion won out, and he collapsed with his head resting on one paw. He brought his other paw up to block out what little light struggled through the clouds and trees overhead. My fault, he thought to himself. This is all my fault.

He had been too cocky. Too sure that everyone would assume he, the lone, disgraced lion of the House of Black, was the secret keeper for the Potters. He feared his popularity and infamy would put them all in danger, so he opted to place the incredible responsibility on someone else. Someone less messed up. Less likely to get pissed and do something stupid. He would laugh at his hubris if the results of his actions didn't hurt so damn much; the image of James and Lily's dead bodies strewn across the floor of their own home was seared into his memory with a hot poker.

He had crumpled to the floor then, much as he was now, although in his human form, clinging to Harry and sobbing along with the distraught infant. Hagrid had been there to whisk Sirius' godson away to safety, so he handed the half-giant the keys to his flying motorcycle, giving his godson a final kiss to his mop of black hair. He would go to collect him from those awful muggles soon, but he had other things to take care of first. He Apparated away with a crack!

It hadn't taken him long to find Pettigrew. They had been friends since their first days at Hogwarts, and Sirius knew his usual haunts. Peter had been stupidly shocked to see Sirius' stormy face coming towards him in the muggle pub they had visited together a few days before. Sirius' hair fairly crackled with magic as he leaned close to Peter, jabbing his wand into Pettigrew's side as he growled, "Alleyway. Now," before shoving his wand back up his sleeve and pulling away enough to let Peter lead the way outside. The barkeep eyed them warily as they made their way out, and he decided to call the authorities, just in case.

Their conversation had been short. Peter, ever the little rat, had tried to justify his actions to his old friend. "You don't understand, Sirius! The Dark Lord...He has ways of making you do things. Things you'd never want to do otherwise. It was me or them!"

That had earned him a wand to the neck as Sirius hissed, "Then you should have died, Peter! They were your friends! Parents! Their son will never know them, now. You selfish bastard!" He scraped his free hand over his haggard face and continued, "You think your bloody Death Eater friends give a shite about you? No. They'll be all too happy to have one of the little pawns taken away by the Ministry and thrown into Azkaban for the rest of his sorry life, leaving them free to destroy even more families in the name of insanity."

Pettigrew's face screwed up in a mix of fear and rage as Sirius spoke; Peter's next few words finally made Sirius realize he'd gone too far. "I'm not going to Azkaban. You are." Making sure to draw the attention of the muggles on the sidewalk of the street nearby, he shouted, "You killed them, Sirius Black! How could you betray our friends? And now you've come to turn on me?" With a flick of his wrist, giving Sirius just enough warning to throw up a quick, wandless Protego, Pettigrew had grabbed Sirius' wand, and with a flash of blinding light, Pettigrew was gone, the alleyway where he had been standing blown to bits.

Despite his shield, Sirius was flung back against the building behind him, and it took him a moment to regain his balance and stagger to his feet, eyes screwed shut as the world spun around him. When his ears stopped ringing, he heard screams coming from the street. He pried his eyes open and saw bodies strewn around the edge of the blast that had apparently incinerated Pettigrew.

He framed me, Sirius realized with a jolt. And then he ran.

When Padfoot's breathing finally slowed to an idle pant, he forced himself to get up. He mindlessly wandered his way through the Forbidden Forest, glad to be near his destination after so long on the run. Hogwarts had been something of a haven for him as a youth, and he hoped it could be one again.

Eventually, the trees thinned, and the yellow glow of the windows of Hagrid's hut and Hogwarts castle came into view. Padfoot sagged with relief but trudged forward; he couldn't rest when safety was just a few steps away.

The Groundskeeper's hut loomed above the great, black dog when his legs finally gave out from under him, and he flopped onto the worn wood of the front porch and fall asleep.

Padfoot wasn't sure how much time had passed since he arrived on Hogwarts grounds, but the sun was just starting to rise over the castle when he awoke. The clouds had cleared somewhat during the night, leaving just enough to paint a pretty picture of pinks and oranges with the light of dawn. Padfoot allowed himself to be at peace for the first time in days, only to be rudely interrupted by the rather loud grumbling of his stomach. He huffed a humorless, canine laugh and turned to scratch the door behind him, whining with his best impression of "starving dog." He didn't have to try very hard to pretend. How long had it been since he'd eaten? No matter. The door swung open, and Hagrid blearily looked down at the bear of a dog and said, "Hello, there! Yeh look right starved, now, don' yeh? Come on, now." He turned, bumbling back into his one-room home, rummaging through kitchen cupboards while Padfoot sat near the hearth, enjoying the warmth, and waited. Hagrid turned to him with a large bowl of water and a huge steak.

Never one to let a beast go hungry, were you, Hagrid? Sirius thought before allowing Padfoot's instincts to take over again, lapping zealously at the water before turning on the steak. He plopped down onto Hagrid's wooden floor, feeling safe for the first time since everything had gone to hell.

"What'll I call yeh, yeh big brute?" Padfoot ignored the half-giant, too hungry to stop gnawing away at the steak. He didn't much care what Hagrid decided to call him, as long as he allowed him to stay. "Those're some migh'y fine teeth yeh have, there. How 'bout Fang?"

Padfoot gave a quick bark of consent before taking another enormous bite. Hagrid simply laughed, leaned down to scratch the dog's ears, and went about getting breakfast for himself. When he was finished, he donned his Groundskeeper's garb and pulled the front door open. "Care ter join me, Fang?" Padfoot dropped the steak bone he'd been working on and loped out the door into the sunlight, feeling content for the first time in days.

A/N: BIG thanks to my two betas who are helping me hack through the jungle of ideas I have for this fic, MammaWeasley27 and Angela. Hopefully we can turn all these ideas into something beautiful together. You both are amazing!

This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so I would love any feedback you have for me if you'd like to leave a review. Thanks for reading! Hopefully I'll have another chapter for you soon.