The leash gave way, and Harry suddenly surged forward, crashing straight into a tree and falling back to the ground. How long he lay there, trying to get his breath back, he didn’t know.

“Well, well, well, Potter.”

The part of Harry’s brain that normally processed Snape’s presence and set off the ‘danger’ warnings seemed to have malfunctioned. Harry just stared up at his Potions Master, noticing him but not really caring.

“So. Not only does the Great Potter see fit to defy me again and go hurtling carelessly into trouble, but he’s broken his leash. Tell me, Potter, what made you so desperate to go into the Forbidden Forest for that you performed powerful accidental magic?”

Harry just blinked up at him.

“On your feet, Potter. Now.”

When Harry didn’t move, Snape seized him by the arm and dragged him to his feet. Once he was upright, Harry thought on some level that he would prefer to remain so than let himself fall over again, so he made an effort to stand.

“Obviously detentions are having no effect on you,” Snape growled as he half-dragged him back over the grounds. “And the leash is no longer an option. The first opportunity I get I will be discussing your impending expulsion with your Head of House and the Headmaster. Until then, you are to stay in Gryffindor Tower. If you ignore this instruction, be it on your own head. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said absently.

Snape forcefully escorted him all the way to Gryffindor Tower and told Harry to get inside. Harry did. His friends were gone, and no-one else paid him any attention. Harry listened to Snape’s retreating footsteps.

Snape was gone. No more leash. Harry was free to go.

Once Harry was positive Snape wasn’t coming back, he slipped back out of the Tower, ignoring the rebuke from the Fat Lady, and ran again. He left the castle, taking one last look at the place that had once been his home. He fled across the grounds and ventured deep into the Forbidden Forest.

Why he made for the Forest, he didn’t know. Somehow it didn’t feel like a threat anymore. It felt … safe. Here, he couldn’t hurt anyone. And no-one could hurt him. He was free.

Harry ran until he couldn’t run anymore. When he stopped, the exhaustion that caught up with him nearly made him pass out. The energy he had gained from the last helping of blood was ebbing away. He was so tired. He needed sleep. Lots of sleep. And he didn’t want to ever wake up.

A thought struck him that made him groan. The books with the spells in … they were all back at the castle. Great. Looked like he wasn’t going to be able to hurry along his own death after all.

Harry curled up at the foot of a large tree, in a patch free from snow, and pulled out his photo of himself with his friends. Laying eyes on Ron’s face just brought the pain back afresh, and he wiped a teardrop off the photograph before putting it away.

-

Sirius never noticed his own hunger. He wasn’t important. Only Harry mattered. Even getting hold of Pettigrew had taken a back seat compared with the more urgent problem.

It had been weeks since Sirius had been able to catch something for his godson to feed on. How Harry had survived in the meantime was a miracle—it certainly showed how resourceful he could be in a crisis. But Sirius knew he was running out of time, and he couldn’t bank on another miracle showing up.

Not for the first time, he considered seeking help. It was obvious that Harry hadn’t gone to anyone for help himself, and Sirius was sure he could find someone understanding who could set the boy right. Remus was working at the school, wasn’t he? Of all people, he would be sympathetic. Albus, as well; he was well-known for his more, as the Ministry called it, ‘liberal’ attitudes towards the magically marginalised. Even Minerva McGonagall would be a viable ally. The problem was, the moment Sirius revealed himself, he would be Kissed or re-incarcerated before he could impart the message. And then Harry would be on his own.

Sirius trudged the Forest paths, nose to the snow-covered ground, stopping every time he picked up the faintest trace of something resembling food—but it was no good; everything was underground or out of reach. If he had a wand, he might have been able to do something, but without one …

He stopped suddenly as a familiar scent came to him. He sniffed five times before deciding that his nose wasn’t wrong. It was Harry.

The scent was recent. Sirius was both confused and concerned. Why had Harry been in the Forest? And how?

Sirius supposed Harry could have been looking for him, or for food. Well, he hoped Harry had had more luck than he had been having. But from what he had been able to deduce from Harry’s one-sided conversations with Snuffles, Snape (Sirius couldn’t believe the greasy git had managed to swing a teaching post; what had Albus been thinking?) had placed Harry under a magical leash. So how had Harry even been physically capable of coming this far?

Well, there was only one way to find out. Sirius followed the trail.

Harry had covered a lot of ground. By the time Sirius thought he was catching up with his quarry, it had gone dark. It was never easy to tell in the Forest, but Sirius was positive that it was late evening. Since the trail was heading deeper and deeper into the Forest, he quickened his pace. Harry, alone in here at night … the thought of all the things that could happen to him nearly paralysed Sirius with fear.

Harry!

At last he saw him, but it didn’t look good. Sirius raced over to the figure on the ground.

Sweet Merlin Harry, what were you thinking?

Harry was either asleep or unconscious, huddled at the foot of a large tree. He was at least not lying in the snow, but he was cold as ice, dressed only in thin jeans, trainers that looked soaked through, and a hand-knitted Gryffindor jumper.

If either of your parents could see you now, you’d have the lecture of your life coming, Sirius thought grimly and with a stab of sadness. He took a quick look around, but they were alone, and Harry was soundly out. He transformed.

It was the first time for a while he had been in human form. He shook his head groggily to throw off the canine instincts, and lifted Harry up in his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said quietly to his godson, who didn’t stir. “Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Sirius knew the Forest inside-out, and he knew that there was a place they could shelter from the wind and the cold and the little snow that made it past the tree-tops. He had been sleeping there himself throughout the winter—as safe as Harry seemed to think the storeroom was, he didn’t want to risk sleeping in the castle.

He carried Harry to the shelter, anxious over how light the teen was, and hoping against hope that he could get those green eyes to open again. It was a long walk, and felt much longer lugging a thirteen-year-old boy (no matter how light he was) and with only two legs. It must have been pretty late by the time they made it.

“Here we are,” Sirius murmured soothingly to Harry as they arrived.

In a patch of large oak trees, one of them was huge. Wild ferns and creepers grew all over the trunks and the forest floor; Sirius had to set Harry down on the ground and gently pull the icy plants aside. Underneath the large tree in among the tangle of roots was a hollow, just big enough for a couple of small adults to bunk down in.

Sirius lowered Harry through the narrow gap into the hole, and slid in after him. He had no cloak or anything he could offer him, but it would be warmer in here than outside. Harry stirred slightly, and Sirius froze, ready to transform if needed, but Harry went still again a moment later.

You’ll be okay, Harry, Sirius thought firmly. I promise.

Something caught his eye on the floor, and he picked up a piece of parchment, his hands trembling. It was a list of passwords.

Crookshanks, he thought. You’re a genius.

Still, he wouldn’t be heading into Gryffindor Tower tonight. Pettigrew would have to wait. Keeping Harry alive was the priority.

Sirius pocketed the passwords, retrieved Harry’s wand from his pocket, and left the hollow.