On the northeast coast of England was a picturesque village with the equally charming name of Newbiggin-by-the-Sea. On this early morning in the middle of summer, the water was particularly calm, which was fortunate for the dog Padfoot, who had been swimming for what seemed like forever before the current began to pull him slowly toward shore. Once on the beach, he sank down on all fours, exhausted and hungry, and looked up and down the beach. Nobody was about just yet. He lay there, resting, wishing vainly that some food would drop magically out of the sky. Worse than that, he needed fresh water.

Finally, he heaved his wet body up and shook vigorously, ridding himself of the excess ocean water. Joints aching, he slowly padded up to some stairs off the beach and made his way up to a sidewalk, searching for a garbage can that might contain something to nourish him.

Later, with a full belly and feeling more energized, Padfoot traveled slowly away from the village and further inland. Eventually the topography became more wooded until the forest was so dense that daylight only filtered in randomly. When he was absolutely sure no one was around, Padfoot transformed into a human at last. Sirius sat against a large tree trunk and rested his head against it. He sat there calmly, taking in the peace and quiet for a while. So relaxed was he now, he fell asleep for a time. Eventually he awoke with a start, expecting to see dementors surrounding him, but there was only the frequent chatter of birds. Then, for the first time in ages, he allowed himself, somewhat tentatively, to think about his wife. He had considered her often in Azkaban, but was only allowed miserable thoughts there, usually imagining her long since remarried and happy, with several children, all Muggles and not concerned with his world. Now he had the luxury of picturing her as she had been with him, several years ago. He did so timidly at first, for fear of a dementor suddenly swooping down and stealing his thoughts. Eventually he realized that, other than the birds, he was all alone here, so he finally allowed himself the pleasure of searching his mind for her face. Unfortunately, though, the memory was elusive. It seemed that, for some reason, the harder he tried, he couldn't quite recall her features. They seemed just out of reach and he grew frustrated that his mind wouldn't cooperate.

The more he thought about her, he grew increasingly irate. Had she never cared to even look for him? Surely if she had wanted to badly enough, it would have been possible. The thought of her moving on and meeting someone else reentered his mind, and he was filled with a bitter loathing of whatever faceless man had taken his place. Could she divorce him without notifying him? Or maybe she thought him dead. Or had read about it all in the papers and assumed he was guilty. He had a sudden paralyzing thought of her looking at him with the same righteous contempt and hatred that everyone else had for the last twelve years. Now suddenly angry with her and disgusted with himself, he decided impulsively to forget about his absent wife for the time being and concentrate on keeping Harry safe. His own life didn't matter anymore, other than that. Sorry he had thought of her to begin with, he stood up, dusting himself off and snorting bitterly about the futility of that gesture. He was so filthy it didn't make a bit of difference. He transformed back into the large black dog and set off once again.

He traveled deeper into the forest, occasionally finding bits here and there to eat and hoping he was consuming nothing poisonous. Eventually he moved out of the deep woods and into the open, traveling quickly toward his first destination, which was to get a glimpse of Harry before moving back north to Hogwarts. He managed to find enough food to keep himself from starving, though some days were better than others. Once in a while, if he was very lucky, a kindly person would take pity on him and offer him a large bowl of dogfood or some table scraps. Usually he had to dig his meals out of trashcans, though, or consume the odd field mouse or rat if he could find one. Eating rats, he thought with satisfaction, was as much a symbolic gesture as anything, even if they weren't very filling. After close to a week of this, he was resting at dusk at the edge of a small wood. He had taken the chance of transforming into a person after checking carefully that he was completely alone. He lay peacefully on his back looking up at the darkening sky, locating the various constellations that he knew by heart from his youth. As he did, he saw a dark shape swooping down in his direction and, suddenly terrified, changed quickly into a dog, hoping if it was a dementor, he had managed to elude it. But it wasn't a dementor.

As the shape grew larger he realized it was a rather large owl, and it was holding several items which appeared to be letters. The owl landed with a thud, weighted down from all the mail it was carrying, and hooted softly at the dog. Padfoot glanced down at the objects the owl had released, and as he did so, the owl gazed balefully at him as though realizing there would be no payment. The dog, still not sure what was happening, nudged a leftover dead mouse to the owl, hoping that would satisfy him. The bird took one look at his pitiful offering and with a muffled hoot of "thanks but no thanks," took off again, leaving behind an astonishing assortment of mail. Quickly the dog transformed back into Sirius, who grabbed the first letter he could and examined it. Damn...now it was almost too dark to read, but he could just make out the name "Padfoot" on the letter. No address, just his old nickname. Sirius tore open the letter which contained a single sheet of paper and what appeared to be a small stack of pictures. But unfortunately it was now too dark outside to make out the writing. He looked around frantically for a source of light, seeing a twinkling glow off in the distance. He grabbed all the letters and stuffed them in his tattered robes, setting off in that direction.

He sat crouched in the shadows of a barn just out of sight. The glow of a floodlight that hung over the barn door provided just enough illumination to read by. Other than the occasional lowing of cattle nearby, the place was quiet. He sat against the wall of the barn, holding the letter just in the path of the light source and read.

It was dated 28 June 1990, three years ago, and was from his wife, he discovered with a jolt.

Sirius my love,

I hope, as always, that this letter finds you alright. I know I say this every time, but I never get tired of repeating it. I love you more than anything and I think of you always. Here is the latest update on me and James (pictures included).

James? Who the hell? Sirius thought, wondering wildly if she had remarried a man named James, but he couldn't stop reading, still amazed to be seeing his wife's words right in front of him.

We have been in Italy for a few weeks on holiday. I had read about a place on the Ligurian peninsula called the Cinque Terre, so we stayed there for a week. The hiking is incredible and James kept up very well. He is turning out to be so athletic. He looks just like you. I've included the most recent pictures of him. He has your smile, eyes, well everything. I guess I was just the incubator! Oh well, another old joke, but it's true. Anyway, as I said, we hiked lots and ate tons of great food. I probably drank too much wine, but who cares. I brought back as much as I was allowed, and I have a few bottles saved for someday when I see you again. I wish so much you could have been there. James asks me about you all the time, as always. I probably tell him the same things over and over again, but he doesn't care. He wants to know all about you.

At this, Sirius stopped reading for a minute and pulled out the pictures. They were all Muggle photographs, frozen in time, and mostly of a young boy who appeared to be between eight and ten years of age. Did he have a son? Laura hadn't ever said she was pregnant when he saw her last. Maybe she didn't know at that time. Dumbfounded, he stared at the boy who, as promised, resembled him a great deal. He was a good looking child with a sweet smile. He thumbed through the others, stopping at each one to examine the boy carefully. She apparently didn't think so, but Sirius could see features in James that reminded him of her. His eyes were almond shaped like his mother's, at least. He felt a lump rising in his throat at this wonderful surprise that had come from nowhere. Then he flipped to the next picture and with a rush of affection saw his wife smiling at him, standing on a hill with a beautiful village and the ocean at her back. She hadn't changed much over the years other than her hair, which was shorter. Still as beautiful as he remembered. The back of the picture said, "Vernazza, Summer 1990." He suddenly felt ashamed of his previous ill feelings toward her.

He picked up the letter and read the last part of it.

Well, I should go for now. I wanted to write as always and let you know we are okay, just missing you like mad as I always have. You are not forgotten, and we pray for you every night. Giving you a virtual kiss and hug (wishing it was real), I love you, Sirius.

Ever mine, ever thine, ever ours. (have to give Beethoven credit for that one)

I love you

I love you

I love you

Laura

Sirius put the letter carefully back in its envelope. Then he opened the next, and the next. All of them were from his wife, with various dates throughout the last twelve years. All told him how much she and their son loved and missed him, and all updated him on his son's various stages of growth. There were more pictures in each one, mostly of the boy, but a few here and there of Laura. Tucking them in a pocket of his faded robes, he trekked back over to his original hiding place and, laying himself back down on his back, he held the letters against his heart and looked back up at the stars. For the first time in over twelve years, he felt alive again.

After a long and dreamless sleep, Sirius awoke slowly to the sound of soft rustling. Eyes still closed, he remembered last night's letter and, suddenly panicking, thought maybe it had all been a dream. He felt around desperately for the letters in his robes. Just at that moment, he felt a heavy weight land on his chest, shifting uncomfortably. Then something brushed his face softly and he felt a nibble on his earlobe. Just as he opened his eyes and yelped in pain, he saw a pair of large yellow eyes staring him down and a rustle of feathers. Suddenly a loud "Hoo!" rang out in his ear, and he sat up suddenly on his elbows, causing the source of his pain to dig its talons deep into his robes to steady itself. With a "Gaahhh!" of agony, he pushed the offending creature off him frantically, and, wild-eyed, jumped up to see an entire chorus of owls surrounding him on the ground. All held several letters and a few larger owls carried parcels. Other than the one rather excitable owl that had been on his chest, they all sat calmly waiting for him to compose himself and pick up his mail. He gaped at the amount of letters now awaiting him...there must be hundreds.

Picking up random bits of mail, he noticed that every single one was addressed to "Padfoot" in identical handwriting...all from his wife. With a joyful surge of affection, he was amazed at the amount of time that she had spent thinking about him and his welfare, even if she had no idea where he had been. He leafed through the post in his hand, wondering how on earth he would transport all this, but having no intention of leaving a single piece behind.

The owls left shortly thereafter, leaving him solitary once more. Sirius became worried that someone might see him, so he quickly tried to organize the huge pile of mail as best he could. Opening a parcel box, he peered inside and was touched to see that it contained several biscuits with a loving note from his son. Unfortunately the box was now several years old and the biscuits had long since gotten rather mouldy. Regretfully he set it aside as his stomach growled in protest, though he vowed to eat them anyway if food was scarce today. He piled as many letters as would fit in the box and moved on to the second one. This box appeared to be more recent, and contained an assortment of packaged biscuits and snacks, again from his son, which he quickly consumed. There was one other item in a tiny white box in the package. He opened it and saw that it was a leather cord bracelet with a single silver rune symbol dangling from it. A card accompanied the tiny gift. He realized it was a birthday card from last year with messages from Laura and James. He was heartened to find something more recent to show that she was still thinking about him. He put the bracelet on his wasted wrist, then realized that, thin as he was, it might come off too easily. He carefully placed it back in the box and into a pocket. After opening the remaining few boxes, he found that they contained more obviously homemade treats and artwork his son had made just for him. He added the contents to his pockets also and stuffed all the letters in a box, hoping he could scrounge somewhere and eventually find a more comfortable means of transporting them, or at least a safe and dry hiding place.

Without transforming back into a dog, he moved through the woods for a while until they grew more dense, struggling with his bulky load. Though the shade cooled the forest down considerably, it was a hot day and he sweated with the effort. Finally he came across a tiny stream, and, setting down his load, transformed into a dog so he could drink more easily. Lapping the water up noisily, he took his fill and after changing back to a man, sank down on the ground and picked up the next letter. Ripping open the envelope, he only observed the date on it, and set it down rather than reading it. He decided to open them all and put them in chronological order as best he could, then devote the majority of the day to reading them.

After almost an hour of effort, the mass of letters were reasonably organized by dates. Sirius munched on a stale biscuit as he began to read. His joy at initially discovering the notes was now dampened as he read, as it became obvious that his wife was extremely distraught at his absence, thinking since he was impossible to find, someone had done something sinister to him. The first letter had been written about a month after his disappearance. The blunt tone made it clear that she never expected him to read it; it was more a catharsis. At times it seemed to be somewhat stream of consciousness, where she had written the same thing repeatedly as if doing so would reveal what happened to him.

Where are you??

What happened to you??

Are you alive?

I love you

Please tell me you didn't do those things

You couldn't murder anyone

God please be alright

I miss you

I am pregnant

Come back

We need you

I need you

Sirius took the letter and placed it gently back in the pile. Quite emotionless, he resolved once again to murder Peter Pettigrew, not only for framing him and killing James, Lily and several innocent muggles, but also for Laura, left devastated by this turn of events, and the son he had never met.