Sirius felt as though he were about to die. Despite it being summer, he had found himself drifting in the North Sea. Cold and famished, he might not have survived if he hadn't stumbled upon a school of fish. Two unsuspecting fish, mistaking him for a floating corpse, began to feast—only to become dog food themselves. They likely saved his life.
Off course despite his human navigation skills, he finally made landfall—not in Scotland as he'd hoped, but on a large island. In the distance, he could just make out other islands.
With characteristic deduction, he concluded: This must be the Hebrides.
His certainty came from spotting numerous Muggle-Repelling Charms and, overhead, Black Dragons circling the skies. He shook himself—still as a Black Dog—and recalled that he and James had ventured to the Hebrides before in search of fresh dragon's blood. They'd even clashed with a McFasty youth over it. A thought crossed his dog-mind: the McFasty family's wealth would be fair game for thieving.
But when did they grow so rich?
Braving the charm and dragons, Sirius swam to the main island. Muddy paths had been replaced with white, lustrous pebbles, and decorative trees lined the roads. He neared the Castle only to be stunned: the Black Dragon crest of the McFasty clan—once displayed at the gate—had vanished, replaced by a symbol he didn't recognize. The building, once dilapidated, had been beautifully renovated.
A servant spotted him and asked, "Why is there a Black Dog here?"
"Look how gaunt—it must've swum from another island!" replied another.
Their Muggle-Repelling Charms blocked ordinary beasts. For this dog to be here, he had to be extraordinary.
"Let's catch it and see if the Earl is interested in a meal," said the first.
"And offal is clean since it's skinny," the second added, "Our Earl likes dog meat."
"You must call him 'Earl,' not 'Boss!'" the first scolded.
They spoke of an Earl who grew up in the East—where dog meat was common. The last time, they recalled, they'd eaten it as a stew and enjoyed it.
Sirius was horrified. He had to flee to avoid becoming dinner. A Stupefy whizzed past. He dodged, his dog form contorting like a snake. The attackers tried Impedimenta; he slowed, trapped.
Without a wand, he could only cast wandlessly—and his skills were rudimentary. He tested a Tongue-Tying Curse and followed with a Stupefy, but the shield blocked the latter. Fortunately, the jinx on his attacker wore off. Seizing the moment, Sirius shifted back to dog form and bolted into the bushes.
"That was a person! An Animagus! Inform the Earl!" the servants exclaimed.
Sirius fled into the wilds, shivering and exhausted, but hungry. Some islands had only Muggles, so he scavenged clothes and food. With no wand, Apparition was impossible; wandless magic barely kept him alive. But boats traveled between islands, and he charmed his way onto one, landing back in Scotland.
From there, he would journey on foot north to London—his ancestral home of Grimmauld Place, and near Harry's Muggle relatives. He could only travel at night, to avoid detection—after his exposure in the Hebrides, the Ministry of Magic might already consider him an illegal Animagus.
To his surprise, the Ministry seemed unaware. By early August, after countless difficulties, he arrived in London. Sirius let out a long sigh of relief—he was almost home. Even though Kreacher bemoaned his return, at least he wouldn't starve.
Arriving at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius's eyes teared up. He'd finally made it. Yet something was off—the house was brightly lit, and he could see shadowy figures moving behind the windows. Who had wandered into his ancestral home?
He raced to the door, preparing to shift into human form and storm in—but stopped. From inside he heard voices:
"The quality of this new batch isn't high. These must be the ones the Earl wanted to see?"
"Yes—our Earl sees value in us. Though our magic is weak, he treats us all equally. That's why we're devoted to him."
"Indeed! Without him, I'd still be in North Africa, struggling. Now I have a stable life."
The emphasis on Earl echoed in his mind... Was this the same Earl who had taken over the Hebrides castle?
During his journey, Sirius had heard about a mysterious Earl Dantes, a newcomer to Britain. Dantes had reportedly acquired many properties and built a vast wizarding city. Could it be the same man?
Fear replaced excitement. Sirius knew he was unarmed, outnumbered, and vulnerable. Trying to enter would mean capture. The Ministry could be waiting. Better not give himself away.
With a heavy heart, Sirius turned to leave. That was when a spell struck his back.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
His body stiffened; his mind raced. If this was the Earl's work, escape was impossible. No wand, few spells, alone. Perhaps imprisonment—or worse.
A familiar voice broke the silence: "Long time no see, Mr. Black."
A young boy emerged from the shadows.
End of Chapter 98
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