Paddy's Little Pup

By Teacherbev

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I am not a multinational bookselling company, nor am I a multi-million dollar movie company, so I don't own anything that you recognize. I am a retired former teacher who likes to twist plots and play with characters, so enjoy.

Summary: AU A scruffy stray dog is welcomed into the Dursley's home after saving their son Dudley's life, but strange things begin happening and for once, Harry's not to blame.

Chapter 1: Saving Dudley Dursley

It started out as a terrible day for Petunia Dursley, frantic housewife and mother of a very active and very willful three year old boy, oh and a very reluctant aunt to a dirty and undernourished two and a half year old nephew. Dudley didn't want puff toasties for breakfast, he only wanted cocoa balls and he had eaten the last of them yesterday. She wiped a stray lock of stringy black hair from her furrowed forehead and grabbed the offending bowl of soggy cold cereal from in front of her screaming son and dropped it down onto the floor in front of her nephew as he sat quietly under the table, trying not to be noticed.

"Sweetie dinkies, Mummy has to go to the store to buy more cocoa balls today. Mummy will make your favorite pancakes with chocolate chips if you just stop screaming now."

A sly look came over the screaming boy who had absolutely no tears in his eyes as he considered his mother's offer. He stopped screaming, a calculating look shining in his beady eyes, his already plump cheeks pink with the effort of his yelling. "And chocolate cake?"

"Yes, Sweetums, and chocolate cake for pudding."

Dudley nodded his round head, his blonde hair waving up and down with the movement. The skinny toddler under the table pulled the soggy bowl toward him, eagerly stuffing the unrecognizable glop into his mouth as quickly as he could before his aunt decided to throw it away rather than let him have it in addition to the piece of toast she had already allowed him. When he could get no more out of the bowl with the spoon, he tipped the oversized cereal bowl up and dribbled the last of the milk into his mouth and then his small pink tongue reached out and licked the last few flakes of cereal into his mouth.

He sat waiting quietly under the table as Dudley devoured a stack of chocolate chip laden pancakes; drowning in melted butter and hot maple syrup, which would have easily fed a hungry trucker. He knew better than to get underfoot while his aunt cooked and they had never allowed him to sit at the table; after all tables and chairs were for decent normal people and he was a 'disgusting freak' whatever that meant.


In a quaint wizarding house that looked like it was only still standing through the liberal use of magic, another family was eating breakfast on this fine April morning. Molly Weasley handed her one and a half year old daughter to her son Charlie who at nine and a half was her oldest child at home during the school year. Bill had started Hogwarts just this year and even with six other children to keep her busy she missed her oldest child.

Sending the just four year old twins back up the stairs to wash their hands better, she started cooking a huge mound of pancakes, a large cast iron skillet of bacon already sizzling on the back of the stove. With her wand she summoned a large jug of chilled pumpkin juice and set Percy to filling the juice glasses, ignoring the lump in his pocket that she knew was his pet rat, Scabbers. Her three year old son Ronnie promptly dropped his glass on the floor. Thanking Merlin for unbreakable charms, Molly merely flicked the mess away with a well practiced flick of her wand, dumped the dirty glass into the sink where the scrub brush cleaned it and turned back to her cooking.

Arthur Weasley entered the room, finishing tying his tie and straightening his black Ministry robes as he kissed his wife on her cheek, ruffled Ron's messy red hair, and sat down at the head of the table, picking up the copy of the Daily Prophet that was waiting for him on his empty plate.

He shook the paper open and then gasped in surprise. Molly turned to look at him forgetting to turn the pancakes that were ready, so they wiggled a little to remind her and then the pan flipped, turning the pancakes all by itself. Arthur turned the paper around so that she could read the headline herself. She dropped her wand on the floor and grasped the back of the nearest chair before realizing where she was and how many little pairs of eyes were watching her. She bent down and picked up her wand, using a firm wrist movement to float the pancakes over to a large platter in the middle of the table where everyone helped themselves, the older children preparing plates for the younger ones as Molly scooped up little Ginny and plopped her into her highchair before placing a small plate with tiny pieces of pancake that Percy had cut up in front of her.

Arthur's hands shook as he read the front page, his breakfast forgotten in front of him. She nodded in agreement; too busy with the children to do more as her husband went back to reading, his head shaking in agitation as he read.

Mass Murderer Sirius Black Found Dead in Cell!

Ministry officials announced late yesterday that the Death Eater Sirius Black, the betrayer of his friends James and Lily Potter, the murderer of Peter Pettigrew and fourteen innocent Muggles was found dead during yesterday mornings bed check. The dementors had disposed of the body before Aurors had a chance to examine it, but it is believed that he died of natural causes.

(See full story on Page 2 of Black's crimes)


The skeletal form of a large, stringy haired black dog dragged itself the last few feet through the freezing ocean water before collapsing in exhaustion on the rocky stone of the beach, too cold to shiver and too tired to move another inch. A low whine escaped its muzzle as the boney chest heaved up and down, a long pale tongue lolling out one side of its mouth.

An early morning fisherman dropped his rod and bait bucket as he spotted the foam flecked mound that was still being threatened by the ever closer waves of the incoming tide. He dropped beside the almost dead dog and pulled off his old, fish stained and smelly coat and draped it around the dog, scooping the thin body up and holding it close as he talked to it. "Here now boy, just hang on for a little bit and I'll have you home with me and in front of a nice warm fire in just two shakes of your tail. Who could have done this to a fine boy like you? Looks like someone starved you before taking you out in a boat and dumping you to drown. Don't understand how anyone could do that to another living being, but at least this time you made it back to shore."

The graying man used one foot to kick open the door to his little cottage and laid his wet burden down on a rag rug that was covering the floor right in front of the hearth. He pulled off his wet coat and rummaged in a closet for an old blanket and some ratty but clean towels. He dried the poor beast off as much as he could; the dog was shivering horribly as he finally wrapped it up tightly in the old blanket. He churned up the banked coals and tossed a couple of well seasoned logs onto the fire before leaving the dog to go open a tin of canned meat for it.

The man found himself gazing into unusually intelligent looking soft grey eyes after he coaxed the poor beast into eating all of the tinned meat he had found in the pantry for it. Sitting on the floor in front of the fire, he talked to it gently as he stroked the filthy long and matted fur on the dog's head. "There boy, you're safe now. I won't hurt you. Did someone just throw you overboard? Well at least you made it to shore, not like that bag of kittens that washed up last month." With a soft string of vulgar curses he continued to stroke the dog's head as it lay trustingly on his leg and slept, finally stopping its shivering as the warmth of the fire chased away the last of the bone chilling cold from the frigid ocean water.


Petunia managed to finally convince Dudley to get his jacket on and his shoes tied so that she could drop the freak over at old Mrs. Figg's place and get to the market so they would return home before lunch time. She sighed, she had finally been able to dash down stairs and started a load of laundry but by the time she had returned, Dudley had broken two of his cars and demolished his new box of crayons. She had let the brat out of his cupboard long enough to clean up his cousins mess but she was sure the freak had managed to sneak a couple of the broken crayons into the baggy hand me downs he wore before she could catch him.

Mrs. Figg didn't want to take the boy but Petunia had finally convinced her. "Just take him with you to the chemists. He can carry home your bag for you. I just can't manage two little boys at the grocers. Please, Mrs. Figg, I really need to get more groceries today."

Mrs. Figg looked at the tiny boy standing behind his aunt's leg, the ragged clothes hanging off one shoulder, his bones clearly visible. His head hung down and he remained perfectly still and silent the entire time the adults were talking. "Oh I suppose so, Petunia. But just this once, you really must call before leaving little Harry. I do have other plans." Harry looked up at her, his large green eyes overpowering any other features on his skinny face, his unruly black hair sticking up every which way. Petunia reached behind her without even looking, grabbed one shoulder and pushed the boy forcefully toward the batty old cat woman, relieved she wouldn't have to take the boy with her, especially after the last trip when some no good busy body had complained to the store manager when she had left the brat in the car while she took Dudley inside with her.

Petunia squealed the tires as she turned out of Mrs. Figg's driveway, Dudley already yelling all of the items he wanted his mother to buy for him at the store. Arabella looked down at the small silent figure standing like a ghost on her front stoop and sighed. She reached inside the door for her purse before grabbing one small hand and walking down the path to begin the two block trip to the chemists. 'I don't know just what Albus Dumbledore was thinking, leaving a precious child with those monsters. I wonder if it will do any good to complain again or will he just tell me it's for the boy's own protection once more. I swear if I wasn't a squib I'd hex that man!'


Amelia Bones frowned at the skimpy file of parchments that lay open on her desk and sorted through them once more, searching for things she knew didn't exist. The two aurors sitting on the hard visitors chairs in front of her desk started squirming before she glared at them, freezing them to their seats once more.

"So, any explanation of why there are no trial transcripts in this folder? Or even the results of the Veritaserum interrogation? And why did the dementors dispose of the body before it could be examined? You had better have some explanations gentlemen or you might find yourselves becoming much better acquainted with the dementors on a very personal level."

Quimby Smithfield and Harriet Barry both blanched, knowing the threat from their boss was very real. She had only taken the promotion a few months ago after the disgrace of Barty Crouch both senior and junior became common knowledge, but she had earned her reputation as a tough no nonsense auror, and she was rapidly earning an even tougher reputation as the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Smithfield unconsciously shrugged as he tried to explain. "Mister Crouch had him sent to Azkaban and as far as I know neither an interrogation or a trial ever took place."

Barry piped up, her voice squeaking as her nervousness came through. "We didn't even know that Black had died until the noon bed check, and there was no body. You know we can't communicate with the dementors, well, not really, you know, just some indistinct flashes and such…anyway…since there was no body there we…you know…just assumed…the dementors…" her voice trailed off into nothing as Madam Bone's face started to turn bright red.

Madame Bones stood up, her hands on her hips, glaring at the two cowering aurors seated in front of her. "Let me get this straight. The Ministry threw him in Azkaban with no Veritaserum to ascertain his guilt, no trial for him to speak up, then because there is no body it is assumed that the dementors have done…what exactly do the dementors do with dead prisoners?"

Smithfield blanched even whiter, "Well, they sort of drag them off and then dump them out at sea to let the fishes just…dispose…" he never finished as Madame Bones exploded once more.

"I want the case against Black re-opened and left open until either his body or Pettigrew's body are found. I want you personally to re-question every witness, using Veritaserum, and I want every scrap of evidence re-examined and re-tested until we find out the truth! Now get out of my sight and be thankful I am not bringing charges against you."

Smithfield and Barry tripped over each other in their hurry to leave Bone's office, literally running out of the department as soon as they were far enough away for her not to see them.

Amelia stuck her head out of her office long enough to tell her secretary to send for Alastor Moody.


Bartholomew Grimes was a solitary man. He enjoyed his small cottage on the sea where he lived alone after his wife left him. He spent his days fishing, beach combing and bringing home strays of all sorts to nurse back to health. That was what he did for fun, to make a living; he cranked out detective novels, about one every eighteen months. Very successful detective novels based on his fourteen years as a Scotland Yard detective before a drunk driver hit him while he was interviewing a hooker on a busy London street corner. His leg had been shattered just enough that he was retired on full disability but not enough that it really bothered him, except when the weather changed or he got too cold.

Bart's mind was on the next chapter of his latest novel while he was trudging home that night when he came across the big dog barely alive. He had taken it home, sure that the dog would not last through the night; it was just too skinny and too cold. So he was pleasantly surprised when the steady thump, thump noise that woke him in the morning turned out to be the dog's tail limply wagging a greeting.

He cooked a couple of extra sausages that morning and chopped them up into a can of tinned tuna, talking to the dog the whole time. "Now, we'll just get some of this nice food in you and then get you cleaned up a bit and look you over. I didn't see anything that might need the vet last night, but it's hard to tell under all that fur. Another few days to fatten you up a little, then a nice bath, maybe a little hair trimming and you'll be good as new."

Sirius liked the man; his instincts were usually pretty good, with the exception of that rat Pettigrew, so he decided he would stay for a while before checking on his godson and then hunting down that traitor. It would be worth going back to Azkaban if he could just take Pettigrew with him.


The Daily Prophet had been eagerly reporting on the scandal caused by Crouch sending Sirius Black to prison without a trial, the investigation had turned up quite a few irregularities about several of his arrests and even a few cases where people had simply disappeared altogether. All of his trials of the people who had been accused of being followers of You-Know-Who had been re-opened and a mysterious correlation between large deposits to his bank account just before wealthy arrestees were acquitted were found and new trials were opened. This time the Wizengamot insisted upon bare forearms and Veritaserum of all of the accused. Miraculously only one wizard previously acquitted remained innocent; the other nine were all found guilty and sent to Azkaban where most people thought they had belonged all along.

The investigations and trials had taken several months, but Smithfield and Barry had never found any evidence or even a witness who actually saw Sirius Black throw a curse on that fateful day. The evidence storehouse was searched high and low and the two wands that had been found that day were finally found. Mr. Ollivander had testified as to which wand belonged to which wizard and to the surprise of all, it was found that Black's wand had not been used that day at all and Pettigrew's wand had last thrown the reducto that supposedly killed him and the innocent Muggles while blowing up the street.

Without any evidence against Sirius Black, and a lot of evidence supporting him, the arrest warrants for Black were canceled, but since only Madame Bones and a few others believed that he might have escaped from Azkaban and not died with the dementors just deciding to dispose of his body for some unknown reason, he was soon forgotten.

As time passed, the Daily Prophet moved on to new scandals, the wizarding world turned its attention to other matters and the strange disappearance of Sirius Black was relegated to the history books.


Petunia Dursley had progressed from ignoring her very strange little nephew, to screaming at him, and to making him do chores as well as occasionally slapping the undernourished and fearful child. He was really too small to do much but that didn't stop her from making him do chores. And since he hadn't completed them adequately that gave her the perfect reason to complain to her husband Vernon about how the boy was so defiant and rebellious. Since his wife no longer cared about what happened to the runt, Vernon felt perfectly justified in taking out his frustrations about life in general on the unnatural freak.

Harry thought his life had been bad before, and he didn't exactly know why. But now his life was even worse. He couldn't do the things his Aunt wanted him to do no matter how hard he tried and if he didn't finish them his Uncle would spank him really hard and lock him in the cupboard under the stairs with nothing to eat. No one said anything when Dudley accidentally knocked Harry down the stairs one morning, so Dudley felt free to pick on his much smaller cousin and began to take every opportunity to do so.

Each night Harry sat in his cupboard in the spider filled dark and wished for someone, anyone to come and rescue him. "Mum, Daddy, why did you leave me…why didn't you take me with you to heaven…I promise if you come for me I won't eat too much and I won't talk to much and…" It became the every night prayer of a small, helpless and lonely little boy.


Arabella Figg was ready to spit nails. She had reported to the great and glorious Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump, blah, blah, blah about the appearance of persistent bruises on little Harry and been patronized with some pablum about little boys always getting bruised when they played. When she had retorted that little boys didn't have fist sized bruises on the side of their faces and hand marks around their little necks she had been politely brushed off and told to go tend to her cats, because little Harry was safe behind the blood wards that the godlike Dumbledore had cast himself. She muttered about arse like was more like it before floo-ing home to throw something and then have a good cry.

Arabella thought long and hard about going to the Muggle authorities to report child abuse but reasoned that the all-knowing Supreme Bighead would just obliviate everyone and remove her from her home, denying any care poor little Harry might receive.

She grabbed up her string bag and set off down the street, deliberately choosing a path that would take her past the Dursley's house. She would keep a detailed record of everything and then someday she would figure out who was powerful enough to give it to.


Sirius had stayed almost four months with Grimes, regaining his strength and putting on some much needed muscle before he decided it was high time he checked on little Harry and then began his quest to find the miserable little rat responsible for all of their troubles. He knew that Grimes had begun searching for a new home for him, after all he was healthy enough to go somewhere else now and Grimes brought home strays to nurse them to health, he didn't keep them all forever; he would be inundated with pets very quickly if he didn't.

Using all the skills Sirius had honed through seven years of being a Marauder at Hogwarts and the three years of auror training he had just completed before that fateful Halloween night, he managed to find a fish truck headed to London and shifted back to human form long enough to repack the boxes and make himself a nice hidey hole for the trip. It was rather bumpy in the back of the truck and he never wanted to smell another smelt, but it was much faster that hoofing it.

He stopped off long enough in London to make a side trip to his old house at 12 Grimmald Place, watching it from the back yard long enough to discover it was now totally deserted. His father had died during his sixth year at Hogwarts and he knew his brother had died at Voldemort's own hand so just his evil, vindictive Mother would have been there along with her sanity challenged house elf, but he could find no signs of occupancy at all. He waited until almost two in the morning before letting himself in through the small basement door he had found when he was escaping from punishments and listened intently for signs of life. He had quietly climbed the stairs before he was startled by the sudden appearance of the insane house elf, Kreature.

"It too late, Mistress is gone. You can not harms Mistress any more…Kreature must do Mistress' bidding now…" With much insane muttering, the foul smelling creature returned to the dark and depressing kitchen, leaving Sirius to shake his head and continue his climb up the very familiar but still hated stairs. He finally reached his old bedroom on the third floor and pushed open the door, feeling the familiar wash of the wards he had placed there so many years ago. 'Good, still strong enough to keep that vile…thing…out of here.' Sirius swiftly crossed the large, dusty room and opened the closet, pulling out a large wooden chest he opened it quickly, removing several small items which he stuffed into his jacket pockets.

He had felt really bad about stealing clothing from the line of laundry he had run across a couple of miles away from old Grime's cottage, but it couldn't be helped. He found a thick wallet stuffed with muggle money that he had kept for emergencies and put it in the pocket next to the leather pouch that clinked with galleons. He picked up the collar with 'Padfoot' engraved on a brass plaque that James had given him as a joke one Christmas and shrugged, what the heck, it might keep people from trying to 'claim' the stray if they thought he had an owner somewhere.

He stuffed the chest back in the closet, and went down a flight of stairs and pushed into his father's old room. His mother's was at the other end of the floor and he wouldn't enter it for all the gold in Gringotts, but his father had at least tried to be decent to him when he was younger. He pulled open the desk drawer, pulling it all the way out and putting it to one side. He leaned over to get his arm in the opening far enough to reach clear back and pull out a slender wooden case.

He smiled to himself, thanking his father for being such a paranoid wizard for once. His father had commissioned duplicate wands for everyone in the family, unwilling to risk anyone of his blood being without a willing wand. Sirius ran a finger down the length of his father's two wands, nostalgic for a single moment before firmly grasping his own duplicate wand. Sirius had never known how his father had managed to find exact duplicates of both wand cores and blanks but he had and his last living son was very thankful the very wealthy wizard had the foresight to do it.

After slipping his new wand into a secure pocket and buttoning the flap tight over it, Sirius took a quick look all through the house, before stopping in the kitchen long enough to drag old Kreature out into the middle of the room and telling him he had just one choice, either the barely sane elf could vacate the house completely and go to one of his cousins houses or Sirius would give the elf clothes and he would be forced out that way. Kreature sobbed with great gasping shudders before giving Sirius a disgusted look and leaving the Noble House of Black with a loud 'pop', never to set foot in the house again.

Sirius set new blocking and preservation spells over the old mansion with his new wand, thrilling at the feel of once again using magic, and pleased at the fit between his magic and the wand. His father had come through again. Smiling sadly at the memory of learning the spell to help his best friend and his family, he cast a perfect fidelius charm with himself as the secret keeper. Too bad he had cast it for the Potters but had talked them into using that rat Pettigrew as the secret keeper, thinking he would be a good decoy to keep them safe. He wiped a tear from his eye at the memory and the sudden pain in his heart at the rat's betrayal, he turned and set off in dog form once again collar clinking softly as he ran, determined to check on Harry and then avenge his dead ghosts.


Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk and pondered the problem of Arabella Figg and what he was going to do with the old squib. He had placed her in Harry Potter's neighborhood to placate his decidedly unhappy Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall after leaving the fifteen month old orphan with his muggle relatives. To say that Minerva was unhappy with the arrangements he had made would be a huge understatement. She had complained to everyone who would listen about what she had observed the day she had sat watching as a cat before Hagrid had delivered the sleeping child and he had left him on the Dursley's doorstep with just a single letter of explanation for Petunia. So he had arranged for the squib to move in and start up a relationship with Petunia, even encouraging her to volunteer to baby-sit for the woman occasionally.

Dumbledore was a very powerful and well loved wizard, and he intended to stay a powerful and well respected wizard for as long as he lived. He only half believed the prophecy that Sybil Trelawney had given before Harry was born, but he knew that many others, especially Tom Riddle himself believed it so he made his plans accordingly.

Oh, he could have let Harry be adopted by a wizarding family, Merlin knows enough of them had shown up within hours of Harry being made an orphan, but then the boy would grow up spoiled, and much too independent and sure of himself. He would surely not turn to his ancient Headmaster for guidance and mentoring and Dumbledore could not allow that to happen.

He was sorry the boy was apparently being mistreated, but as long as he didn't investigate Arabella's claims he could honestly vow, even under Veritaserum that he didn't know the child was being abused. Not that he would ever allow things to progress to that point. It would be a disaster for everyone if he lost his control over the wizarding world to such an extent.

So as he sucked on one of his lemon drops, he made plans to keep the boy with the muggles, even if it meant he had to obliviate Arabella and remove her. Hopefully without Minerva finding out.


From London, Sirius found a furniture delivery van going to Whinging on a bright spring morning. The ride was just as bumpy as the fish truck, but it sure smelled a lot better. He managed to jump out of the truck while the two movers were busy taking a large sofa into the house and slunk around the house to hide in some bushes until the men left with the van.

He waited until after dark to read the maps posted at the nearest bus stop. It wouldn't do to be seen as a map reading dog, but he really needed to find Lily's sister's house. He knew that she and Lily had never gotten along and that James and Lily's will stated that Harry was never to be placed in their care but he hoped his godson's aunt would at least know where the boy had been placed. He had helped James make a long list of possible adoptive parents just before the trio went into hiding, but he had no way of knowing exactly which family was caring for Harry now.

'Ah, if I go north about four miles on this street, I can turn left at the park, go three blocks east and that's Privet Drive. I remember the address was on Privet Drive. I should be able to pick up Petunia's scent; it will be close enough to Lily's after all. And I have scented her before when I spent that weekend at their parent's house with James.'

The sleek, black dog took off at a ground eating lope, intent upon finding his godson.


It had been another horrible morning for Petunia. Dudley was getting bigger all the time and at three and a half soon to be four, he was almost too big for her to pick up any more. It wouldn't be much longer before she would be unable to physically stop his temper tantrums and she didn't know what she was going to do then. His favorite shirt was dirty, his pants were too tight again, he didn't like his breakfast and worst of all, that little pervert had stolen the banana he wanted even if it was too ripe and covered with black.

Petunia rubbed her head, hoping she could avoid another migraine as Dudley jumped up and down, dust drifting down from the ceiling as the pictures lining the mantle fell over again. She grabbed the brat from under the cupboard, shoving him towards the door as she soothed her screaming and stomping son. "Let me just drop off the brat at the old lady's, Dudleykins and then you and Mummy will go to the park and have an ice cream, okay honey?"

Without waiting for her hand Dudley took off running, intent upon going to the park and making his mother buy him the biggest cone the ice cream cart man sold. Petunia had stopped just long enough to grab a thin jacket for her precious boy when she heard it.

A heart rending screech of brakes, the squeal of metal hitting metal and then Dudley screaming in pain and agony rent the peaceful air of the quiet neighborhood. Petunia started screaming, a high pitched ear splitting noise as she dropped the jacket and ran out the front door, expecting to find her precious Dudley bleeding and pinned beneath a car. Instead she found a car on the sidewalk, its front end curved around the light post, and her Dudley, her precious baby boy being dragged backward by the seat of his pants. A huge black dog had saved her boy; a wonderful, sweet, very large black dog had saved her boy!

With barely a glance at her nephew as he sat obediently on the front stoop waiting patiently for her to come out, she rushed across the yard and scooped up her son, patting the dog on it's furry head as the driver of the car tried to explain about how he had lost control when a tire blew and he hoped the boy and his dog were okay.

Mrs. Number six was telling everyone who would listen about how the courageous dog had just flown across her yard, through the hedge and grabbed Dudley from the jaws of death.

By the time the police came and took everyone's statement and arranged for a tow truck for the smashed auto, a newspaper reporter from the local paper had called the London news and a camera crew for the BBC news had shown up to report on the heartwarming story of how the beloved pet had saved the poor child from certain death. After making sure that his wife and son were perfectly all right, Vernon insisted upon going to the nearest pet store and buying everything necessary for the wonderful dog, including the largest bag of the best dog food they had. He even stopped at the local butcher shop where he bought the largest, meatiest steak he could find as a reward for the dog's heroism.


That night Sirius Black went to sleep on the rug in Dudley's bedroom, his stomach bloated with steak and sporting a brand city license tag on the leather collar that James had given him so many years before. As soon as the night sounds of the three Dursley's settled down, he crept down to a small, locked door under the stairs and using a hair pin filched from Petunia's dressing table he picked the lock and carefully opened the door. Inside he found his godson, curled up and cold, whispering pleas to his dead mother and father to come and take him away. His heart breaking, he flicked his wand, coving the shivering boy with a thick blanket before he turned back into a dog and snuggled up next to the boy, licking the tears off of his face as he coaxed him into sleep. Pettigrew and revenge could wait, Harry needed him now and that's were he would stay.


AN: Should I continue or just leave this as a one shot? Please let me know if there is any interest in my continuing this. Thanks for reading.