AN: So for this new story (my first HP fanfic!), I had to do a lot of math to put everything together. The year is 2000- obviously Sirius is alive and well in my story, Voldemort is dead, and I made up Bridget duh. If you're curious, THESE are my equations.

Sirius 1959- (age 41); at school 1971-1978

Bridget 1967- (age 33); at school 1979-1986

First wizarding war w/ Voldemort 1970-1981

End of Voldemort 1998

41-33= 8 years between Sirius and Bridget

2000-1981= 19 years since the end of the first war

(so Bridget would only be in the war during her first three years at school)

(we'll say it's two years after Voldemort died in the second war, so year 2000)

And I hope to God these were not all for nothing!

Bridget considered herself to be a retired witch, even though she was only 33. She had gone to Hogwarts when she was younger and excelled in most of her classes. Well, except for Potions. It's just so... tedious. Other than that, Bridget had loved learning how to become a witch.

Her parents didn't allow her to go to school while the first war was going on, so she'd had to go to regular school for three more years, to be safe. Things were a tad crazy for a while, obviously.

She felt like she had learned enough to protect herself from the bad seeds of the wizarding world, just in case. But she still tried to go back to living a normal magic-free life after Hogwarts. Bridget thought it was a bad time to be anywhere near the school or even use magic.

Even though it had been two years since the Dark Lord's demise, she still didn't feel comfortable enough to go back to that life. There was always that sense of danger she got when she picked up her wand. It was always handy, just in case. Bridget could remember enough spells that would keep her safe, she just hoped there would never come a time where they would be necessary.

Overnight, though, a certain black dog would unknowingly end up throwing her right back in to that magical world which she had loved so much and now feared.

...

Bridget was a creature of habit. On Saturday mornings, she would pull her straight, brown hair up into a ponytail, wrap her favorite blue scarf around her neck, and leave her apartment (but not before checking twice to make sure she did indeed lock the door). Then she walked through the woods in the park by her house and over a small bridge into town. She stopped at the library to switch out books, bought a hot chocolate from the coffee shop next door, and walked down the street to her parents' antique store. The same basic, everyday conversations were made, hugs were exchanged, then she would say, "Okay, love you, gotta go!" Then she would grab a peppermint out of the candy jar and go back home.

And even after all of that, she still had a whole day left. While most people complained about not having enough time on Saturdays, she on the other hand had to find things to do. This was where she got to be a little more adventurous and spontaneous! Sometimes she would go see a movie at the theater, or do some shopping. A few times she even drove all the way to the museum, which was at least an hour away!

Okay, so she didn't live an "exciting" life, but being safe did have its advantages. One good one was that she was still alive!

Unfortunately for her, something would stand in her way of continuing on with her normal Saturday that day. No, something was literally standing in front of her, blocking off the bridge.

Bridget stopped far back when she saw a huge, dark thing standing by the little bridge. As she cautiously stepped closer, she could see its gray eyes had turned to lock onto her hazel ones. A little gasp escaped her when she realized it was a huge, black dog. She had always been an animal lover, so her initial reaction was to go up to it and see how it would respond to her.

With her hand out, she waited to see what the massive dog would do now that she was up close. It kind of gave her a funny look, then stuck its cold, wet nose into her palm. Bridget giggled a little, then pat its head carefully. When it, uh, he fell to the ground and rolled so she would scratch his belly, she decided he was pretty friendly. And after a few rubs, he barked- but it sounded like the equivalent of a laugh- then stood back up.

When she was kneeling down, he was probably a head taller than her, which was kind of scary, but he just kept that silly look on his face. It reminded her of a cartoon dog; he was so expressive.

Bridget took his paw in hers and said, "Well, I'm Bridget. And it sure was nice to meet you, but I've got to go now." She laughed when he licked her hand and then she stood back up. But when she went to walk over the bridge, he squeezed by to block her yet again.

"What are you doing, big guy? Hm? You need to go back home now." She tried to gently push him, but he wouldn't budge. A quick check of his neck and she knew he was probably a stray. A lot of stray animals walk around the park, so it was nothing new, but this dog seemed to have bonded with her or something.

She reached behind his ear and started scratching. He made a whimpering sound and tail started thumping on the wood. She sighed and said, "Alright, alright. You can stay the night, but in the morning we'll have to put up flyers to see if anyone's looking for you." Of course, a part of her wanted him to be a stray so he could stay with her forever and ever. But she knew it was the right thing to do. "Come on, let's go home. You're such a good boy!" He jumped back up and trotted happily across the bridge.

He did follow her all through the park and to her house, even though she had half expected him to have gotten distracted at some point and leave her.

As she unlocked the front door, he sat patiently, his gray eyes calmly scanning the surrounding area. There were a few people out in her neighborhood, but most people wanted to stay inside, all snug and warm.

"Here we go, this is home. For you, only tonight," she tried to tell him sternly, but felt her mouth lifting at the corners when he gave her an unimpressed look. If dogs can even give those kind of looks, she thought.

...