The enormous, shaggy black dog crouched behind a large hedge, which grew against the fence between the yard of Number 4 and Mrs. Next-Door's house. His golden-yellow eyes stared out from behind the branches, watching and waiting.

Sirius had been there for two days already, and was getting a bit discouraged. So far, there had not been much activity at Number 4, or at least none involving the person whom the dog was waiting to see.

Sirius had seen a very large man, Vernon, who very much resembled a fat walrus,  go in and out in the mornings to go to work. Vernon Dursley waddled from the house, down the walk, lumbered into the car (which creaked beneath his weight and had a slight tilt to the driver's side once he'd got in), and drove away. A few hours later, he would come back, park the car (which creaked with relief when he got out), and waddled back up the walk and into the house. Minutes later, Sirius would hear the tinny echo of a television program - usually the evening news - coming out of the open living room window. It was the most boring existence Sirius had ever imagined.

He'd also seen a thin, long-necked woman, Petunia, peering out of a kitchen window whenever possible, craning her neck to see over the fence behind the dog, quite obviously being very nosy. In the mornings, after Vernon had left, Petunia would come outside to collect the milk and eggs from the stoop. The first day that Sirius had been there, she'd been hailed over by Mrs. Next-Door, and Petunia had reluctantly walked over to the hedge between the houses to chat with the neighbor. Sirius had stayed very still, pressed as far into the shadows as he could go, and listened as Petunia and Mrs. Next-Door had what sounded like a very competitive discussion about the growth of their gardens. Petunia had waved as Mrs. Next-Door left, going on a walk about the neighborhood, wearing spandex and sports shoes, her hair pulled back in a very high, very perfect ponytail. Petunia had snorted quietly, and muttered her dislike for Mrs. Next-Door before walking primly back into the house with her dairy delivery and slamming the door behind her in good riddance.

There was also the other boy, Dudley, who had resembled a rather ugly beach ball last time Sirius had seen him. Now, twelve years later, Dudley was even fatter than his father, which hardly seemed possible, and seemed rather as though he would make an excellent contender in a Sumo Wrestling match. Dudley had come and gone out of the house, meeting up with a pimply, bulky boy with militant hair and a nasty look to his face that reminded Sirius of a weasel. They always returned to the house just before Vernon returned home, Dudley always clutching a wrapper from some fast food restaurant, often licking salt or grease off his fat fingers as he and his mate laughed about whatever nasty hi-jinx they'd got up to during the day.

And then there had been what certainly had to be Vernon's sister, a woman whose shape and voice had been so much like her brother's that the first time Sirius had seen her, he had nearly mistaken her for Vernon with a wig on. She'd brought outside with her a terrible, yappy little dog with a squashed face whose barking at Sirius would have got him caught if his owner hadn't been too lazy to leave the stoop to come and investigate what he was barking at. Instead, there had only been a few sharp calls - "Ripper! Ripper, you stop that racket!" - and the dog had reluctantly gone back to her.

But in all of this, there'd been nary a glimpse of the boy that Sirius had come to see - Harry Potter.

If Sirius hadn't been able to hear the updates on the evening news through the Dursley's living room window - and therefore knew that the muggle news was reporting his escape - he might have considered simply turning back into a man and marching up to the front door and knocking on it to ask for Harry himself. He had seen Petunia's nose poking out the window each night when the news reported no update or capture "in the Sirius Black case", as though she expected to spot Sirius herself.

Sirius wondered if Petunia remembered him from twelve years ago, if she knew there really was a possibility of him being there on Privet Drive, or if it was just her being stupid that made her look for the escaped prisoner out her living room window. He reckoned it was most likely the latter, as Petunia had struggled to remember his name even when he'd spent the summer with her and her sister, Lily, on a seaside vacation when he was fifteen. Vernon, too, for that matter, ought to have recognized the name, having shared a room with him on that very same vacation. But Vernon had only been interested in Sirius in the most vague way - wanted to show off his car to the boy, whose interest in muggle vehicles had been at it's peak at the time and Vernon had owned a very nice motor car.  The only other thing Vernon had been interested in saying to Sirius, once he found out that Sirius was quite gay, was not to try any "funny business" - as though Sirius would be turned on by the whale-shaped boy in the next bed over.

Sirius had started to wonder whether Harry Potter still lived at Number 4 at all. Perhaps Dumbledore had found a better situation for Harry than this horrible muggle residence... Perhaps, Sirius had started to think, Dumbledore had decided that Harry belonged in a wizarding family. Perhaps Dumbledore had brought Harry to be cared for by --

Sirius could not bring himself yet to think the name, and he quickly shook away the thought.

Harry had to be there at the Dursley's still, he decided, for he had spotted a large snowy owl,  perched carefully on the chimney of Number 3 across the street, staring at Number 4 with an almost maternal air, ruffling her feathers in irritation in the mornings when she spotted Vernon going to work, and only leaving to catch a couple mice now and again.

Sirius did not see any other indication that any wizard lived at Number 4 Privet Drive, aside from that owl, until the evening of the 8th of August, just as the sky was turning orange and pink with the impending night. It happened that there came some loud shouting that echoed from the backyard, and Sirius hurried 'round the side, sticking to the shadow cast by the wall, to peer to the open doors of the small enclosed porch at the back of the house.

The scene that met his eyes there was quite a sight indeed.

The back door had burst opened, spilling light across the yard in a sharp golden streak, but a strange shadow was cast in the middle. A very large, very round shadow... and it was growing by the second. Sticking out of the door was a pair of extremely swelled up legs, which were attached to an even more swelled up body. The hippopotamus-sized woman was floating, inflating like a giant hot air balloon, wedged in the doorway, shrieking with panic as she waved her fat arms and kicked her fat legs and her blouse buttons were bursting, pinging about like tiny bits of shrapnel. Vernon Dursley stood in the doorway, desperately clutching the woman's hands.

"I'VE GOT YOU MARGE!" he bellowed.

"VERRRRRRRR-NON!" she was screaming the name repeatedly, though her cheeks and lips had swelled up so much that the words sounded muffled as her face became more and more indistinguishable from the rest of her.

And then the most wonderful moment of all.

All of the kicking that the fat woman was doing had managed to dislodge her and she tumbled heels over head, a rolling ball of flesh and wind, bouncing twice on the grass before rising up and starting to take flight.

"VERRRRRR-NNNNNNNOOOOOOOON!"

Vernon ran as fast as anyone so large could possibly run, took what must've been a great leap for him (though all high might only managed to nudge him a few inches from the grass), trying to latch onto the woman's hands.

"MARGE!" he cried, "MARGE!"

"VERNON!"

The squash faced dog was barking desperately, his whole body trembling with each yap, staring up into the air as the woman called Marge slowly spiraled through the air like a balloon lost by a child at a parade when the strings become broken. She spun and spun, higher and higher, screaming all of the way, the sound of her slowly fading the further away she got.

Vernon was on his knees in the garden, bellowing her name as Ripper the dog continued to bark, and Petunia ran out into the back yard, horror struck and clutching her cheeks in  absolute terror as she stared up into the violet sky as Marge flew away, not much more than a tiny dot on the horizon.

If Sirius had been human, he would've been discovered for sure with how loud he would've laughed at the sight of the fat lady floating away like a great meat bubble. It was the first time in ages that Sirius Black had truly felt like laughing at something, and the feeling tickled his belly - even as a dog - and made a sort of warmth fill up his veins. Surely, he thought, this had to be the work of Harry. It was exactly the sort of thing that James would've done at thirteen!

But then Vernon Dursley had gotten up and he'd rounded on the open door with a look of red-hot fury that had his mustache bristling and spit flying from his mouth as he charged forward like a bull. "YOU PUT HER RIGHT! YOU PUT HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" he screamed as he ran through the door, pushing past Petunia as he disappeared inside.

Petunia stared up at the speck in the sky, then hurried in after Vernon, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sirius waited.

Perhaps... just perhaps, Harry would come out the back door and bring Marge back to earth, perhaps this would be the moment that he had been waiting for - the moment when he would finally see Harry.

But nobody came into the backyard.

He could hear the muffled shouting from inside, could hear the faint bang as doors slammed...

And then there was a commotion out the front way and Sirius hurried back along the side of the house to the front, hunkering in the magnolias. Another streak of light was cutting across the dark grass, and this time, a shadow of a boy cut through it.

"COME BACK IN HERE! COME BACK IN HERE AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

"NO." The word was firm, and the voice... so... so familiar. The hairs on the back of Sirius's dog form bristled at the sound of it, and he held his breath, getting as close to the edge of the shadows as he dared. "She deserved it. She deserved what she got!"

"If you don't come back in --"

"You keep away from me! I'm going. I've had enough!"

And then - then --

Sirius couldn't believe it.

It made his heart nearly stop.

It was James.

It was James fucking Potter.

Right there, right there on the front lawn of Number 4 Privet Drive.

James Potter was dragging a Hogwarts trunk, covered with stickers of the Gryffindor crest and the Chudley Cannons. He was carrying an empty owl cage and clutching a wand in his fist, his hair disheveled, his trainers old and worn, his clothes miles too big for him...

But no, not James, of course not, Sirius had to remind himself that it wasn't - that it couldn't be, that this exact bleedin' replica that stood before him was Harry.

Harry moved quickly, especially considering the size of the trunk he was dragging behind him and how awkwardly the bird cage banged against his legs as he trudged down Privet Drive, passing in and out of the pools of light cast by the street lamps. Sirius hurried, dashing across Number 4's lawn, diving into the bushes of Number 2, and following at a distance behind, but always keeping Harry in his sights. His heart was racing at the sight of him, at the knowledge that he looked so much like his father that Sirius could hardly tell them apart in his mind.

Harry stormed down the road, shaking his head and muttering to himself under his breath. Sirius could only catch snippets of what he was saying - something about grounds-keeping after he'd been expelled. His wand stayed tight in his fist and Harry swore as he fought with the trunk, which got stuck in a rut in the sidewalk, then managed to pull it free, and continued on his way...

Sirius lay low in a thick row of bushes as Harry turned the corner onto Magnolia Crescent and stood there a moment, fuming and clearly trying to decide what to do next. He stood the trunk up and looked around - the shadows were long as the sun had completely set, and funny night noises were echoing all around them. The breeze pushed a swing, making it creak slightly, and Harry whipped about to look at it, wand aimed, a bit of panic in his expression.

Those eyes, Sirius realized, they looked so much like Lily's.

Harry sighed and sat down on a low wall in front of one of the identical houses that lined Magnolia Crescent. He sat there for a moment, holding his head in his hands, continuing his muttering.

Sirius's ears lay flat to his head as he pressed himself into the dirt and slowly crawled ever closer, wanting to see Harry more closely, to see even better how much he looked like James and Lily... and then he moved too greatly, and the brush that covered him rustled and Harry turned around, staring into the dark where Sirius lay, as still as he could possibly make himself be.

Harry couldn't see him, though. The advantage of black fur in the black of night, Sirius thought, as Harry turned back around and kicked his trunk over, bending to unlatch it, and started rooting around inside of it.

Sirius crept between the garage and the fence of the house Harry was sitting in front of, and inching ever closer, belly flat to the ground.

Harry stopped rooting in his trunk and suddenly whipped about. "Lumos!" Harry cried, holding his wand high. Again, he was staring right at Sirius, who held extremely still, barely even breathing as Harry stared right at him. Sirius was transfixed, every muscle in his body tense. What if he just transformed back right now? What if he went over there and told Harry everything - just told him? What if Harry listened and believed him and he, Sirius, would just forget the stinking filthy traitorous rat, and instead just spend the rest of his life with him - Harry. A tremulous imagination of himself and Harry sitting about the dinner table in that shabby old apartment in Woolrich, two steaming cups of tea, and that bleeding cat...

But the cat wasn't there, and gods knew who stayed in that apartment now.

The lease most certainly didn't still have the names of Potter, Black, or -- or...

He still couldn't bare to think the name and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feeling a shudder of pain move up his spine, and he twitched with the chill of it.

The movement wasn't much, but it was enough.

Harry's eyes fixed a bit better on him, and he gasped - stepping backward in surprise, a look of fear coming up over his face, from both the fall and the sight of the dog - and Sirius moved forward, meaning to stop his fall when Harry stuck out his wand arm and --

BANG!!!!!!!

Sirius ducked back - and only just in time - as the violent purple Knight Bus appeared on Magnolia Crescent. Sirius retreated further into the dark. Blast, he thought. He couldn't risk being seen - not by anyone, he realized, for even Harry would have no idea what the truth was, and he had no way of knowing what everyone in the wizarding world had told Harry about Sirius. Certainly, if nothing else, he'd seen the news reports about Sirius Black, judging by how often he'd heard the bloody story himself through Vernon Dursley's living room window.

No, it was a good thing, really, Sirius decided, that James -- no, not James; this was Harry -- hadn't really seen him.

He retreated backwards, deeper into the shadows, not wanting to be seen as a young wizard lopsidedly stepped from the doorway and moved to look in Sirius's direction as he inquired from Harry, "'Choo' lookin' at?"

This wasn't really what he'd escaped for.

A life with Harry, at a home and -- and --

Well, it just wasn't possible.

He'd lost that as thoroughly as he'd lost everything else twelve years ago.

Now, he thought, he would just add the loss of this - of time better spent with Harry - to the list of the things that he must kill that blasted little rat for.

But, being only the start of August, he had nearly an entire month before Peter Pettigrew would return to Hogwarts, where he would know where exactly to find him... and until then, there were a few other errands which Sirius needed to attend to.