Welcome back, Dear Reader. I hope this chapter makes up for the long delay. Don't forget to add this story to your story alerts, and, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Wind rushed through Sirius' hair as he fell from the Astronomy Tower. His tattered robes billowed out behind him and the rain stung his face. The ground rushed up to meet him. In his hand the stolen wand hummed as he brought it up. He opened his mouth to shout an incantation, but the wind whipped the words from him before he could complete it.

He was falling further now. The ground looked so soft. Just let go, Sirius.

Sirius Black closed his eyes and reached deeply into himself. Deep into that place that even the horrors of Azkaban, the Dementors, couldn't reach. There was a spark there. Soft, so soft that even to look upon it might cause it to go out. But Sirius knew how to kindle that spark. He'd nurtured it for twelve years. He let out a long breath, and the spark grew into a bonfire, and the bonfire ran from his chest and down his arms and exploded as pure magic from the end of the wand.

His fall slowed. He flipped on end and landed hard on the ground. A wet snap in his side told him the fall had cost him a rib. He lay on his back, wheezing through the pain. The storm thundered on overhead. Lights were beginning to shine from the castle windows. In the wind, Sirius could hear shouts and calls. He scrambled to his feet, searching for the wand. It was nowhere to be seen. More lights. More shouts. He shook his head, shuddered, and a large, shaggy, black dog loped through the rain towards the dark forest ahead.

On the top of the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore knelt over the prone form of Harry Potter. He placed a lined hand on Harry's chest and felt a faint heartbeat. He closed his eyes and reached out a little further. He could feel the power within the boy, writhing and coiling. It snapped at him as it sensed his presence, and he pulled his hands away. Water dripped from his twice-broken nose as he turned to Ron and Hermione.

'Tell me everything,' he said.

Hagrid was sitting by the fire in his hut, a tankard of mead in one hand. The other was scratching behind the ears of Fang, his enormous Boarhound. The drumbeat of rain kept a steady pace. He glanced at the window. It'll be murder savin' the pumpkins after this he thought. He was about to turn his attention back to his tankard when he saw a silver flash on the top of the astronomy tower. The flash grew, and Hagrid realised it was coming closer. His eyes narrowed. The shape swooped downwards and spread its wings. Hagrid slowly rose to his feet. He could see now that it was a phoenix patronus. In two great strides Hagrid crossed the room and flung the door open so hard it rattled on its hinges. The phoenix came to ground and opened its beak. Dumbledore's voice rolled forth.

'Hagrid,' Said the Phoenix, 'Sirius Black has infiltrated the castle in an attempt to get to Harry. He's attempting to escape. He is apparently an Animagus, taking the form of a large black dog. I want you to begin a search of the grounds immediately.' The phoenix didn't wait for a reply; it simply vanished after delivering its message. Hagrid shrugged into his Moleskin Greatcoat and grabbed his crossbow from its mount on the wall. 'C'mon Fang,' He boomed, and strode out into the night. The increasing darkness was no impediment to Hagrid. He'd spent more time in in these grounds than he had in the castle, and that included the time when he was still a student. All the wonders of magic couldn't compare to the feel of soft grass under his feet, or the brisk Scottish breeze burning his cheeks in the winter. After one too many meads in the Three Broomsticks, he could often be heard boasting that he could find his way through the grounds of Hogwarts blindfolded, just by the feel of the soil under his boots. Hagrid arrived at the foot of the astronomy tower. He paused, and then bent down. There was a slight depression in the grass. He gently reached out and laid one hand on the ground. The mud squelched up between his fingers. His breathing slowed. His nostrils flared. He raised a finger to his face. Scarlet shimmered in the moonlight. Fang plodded closer, sniffing deeply.

'He's 'urt,' Said Hagrid. 'C'mon boy, which way did he go?'

The boarhound took the scent, flattened his ears, and took off towards the forbidden forest. Hagrid unshouldered his crossbow and followed Fang into the darkness.

The forbidden forest loomed over Hagrid as he approached. The rain barely made it through the thick canopy overhead. Thin beams of moonlight highlighted dust motes dancing and swirling as he followed Fang. As he walked, here and there a hand would sweep the fine strands of Unicorn hair from branches where it had snagged. As he passed under a particularly gnarled Cypress tree, a branch of Bowtruckles chittered at him. He stooped under a low hanging branch. The chittering of the Bowtruckles rose in pitch, and they scattered, leaping higher into the branches of their home tree. Ahead of him Fang went rigid. Hagrid stopped. He saw Fang's eyes roll over white, and then suddenly the great boarhound turned tail and bolted back along the path. 'Fang,' Hagrid called after the fleeing dog. A deep silence answered him. Hagrid felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a large bolt.

'AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'

The howl cut the air. The dense brush in front of him burst open and death blurred forwards. In one fluid motion Hagrid drew back the bow string, loaded the bolt, shouldered the crossbow, and fired. The bolt took the charging werewolf in the shoulder, and then it was on him in a whirlwind of fang and claw. Hagrid jammed the crossbow in the wolf's snapping jaws as it slammed him back against a tree. The wolf clamped down. Wood began to splinter as it worried him to and fro. With a great CRASH, the werewolf's jaws snapped shut and shattered the crossbow in two. As he staggered, a claw streaked across his face. Hagrid roared and punched the wolf, cutting his knuckles on its teeth as it fell backwards. The wolf lashed out, but Hagrid was ready. Moving faster than a man his size had any right to he stepped under the sweeping claw and landed a rib-cracking blow to the wolf's midsection. The werewolf's counterstroke raked down his shoulder. Blood welled up from the cuts in his face, stinging his eyes. He swung wildly, but the werewolf wasn't there. He raised a hand to wipe the blood from his eyes, and as he did so a weight hit him in the chest so hard it would have killed an ordinary man. Hagrid was knocked back, and there was a root protruding from the forest floor and suddenly he was falling. Through a haze he could see the werewolf leap forward, its yellow eyes filled with bloodlust. He raised an arm in front of his face as it landed. He screamed as it bit deep into the flesh of his arm. There was a sound like nails on chalkboard. Hagrid realised it was the sound of the werewolf's teeth scraping against the bones of his forearm.

The wolf was fully on him now, its claws sending pinpricks of fire through his body as it struggled to maintain purchase on his writhing form. He reached out with his other hand wildly, searching for anything that could help him. Pink foam dripped from the werewolf's maw as it gnawed on his arm. His grasping hand found a jagged half of his broken crossbow. Hagrid roared and used the werewolf's grip on his arm to draw it closer, and then he plunged the makeshift stake into the wolf's side. It yelped and leapt backwards. He clambered to his feet. His thick hair was matted to his face with blood, his beard was wild, and there was a fire in his eyes that would have given any thinking creature pause. The werewolf snapped its jaws and sprang forwards. Hagrid was ready. He rolled to one side, catching the werewolf has it sailed past him, and continued the spin, throwing the creature bodily into a tree almost as thick as Hagrid. The tree held firm. The werewolf did not. It hit the tree with a sickening crunch, and fell to the floor and lay still.

'Heh,' Said Hagrid. He stumbled over to the wolf and knelt beside it. He laid a hand against its side. It was still breathing, its chest rising and falling slowly. It would live. 'Sorry friend,' Said Hagrid, rising to his feet. He wobbled. He looked down at his arm. It hang limp at his side, dripping blood onto the forest floor. He took a step forward, and had to grab a tree branch with his other hand to keep from falling. The branch snapped, and he fell anyway. He staggered to his feet, and carefully, he limped back towards his hut. He wasn't sure exactly how long it took him to make his way out of the forest. He inched his way forwards. Wiping the blood from his eyes was a losing battle, so he'd stopped bothering. In front of him he could see a familiar glow, and there was barking. Loud, and getting louder. Something soft and heavy brushed against his legs. 'Good boy,' he said without thinking. He stumbled up the stone steps of hit hut and pushed the door open. He made his way over to the shelves, searching. Things clattered to the floor. His hand closed around a small pouch. He fell against the table, clearing away the remains of his dinner with a sweep of his hand. His emptied the contents of the pouch onto the table. A collection of dried herbs spilled out. He picked up a bowl from the floor, tipping out the contents as he did so. From his pocket, he pulled out a small vial of silver filings. Into the bowl went the silver and a handful of Dittany, which he crushed between his fingers. As he mixed, a silvery paste formed. It was tinged red with blood. He scooped handfuls of this onto his bitten arm. It began to steam, and he grit his teeth as a cry battled its way up his throat. He rubbed the paste deep into the bite. The blood stopped. He rubbed the paste into the cuts across his face, and collapsed onto his bed. Fang leapt up beside him. 'Good boy,' He said. And then he was silent.