All the evening’s conversations had his thoughts swirling and, with no Pensieve, Harry chose to clear his mind as best he knew how. “Oh, Harry!” she bawled, and lunged at him wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, wrenching the sheet away with her foot, and burying her tear-strewn face in his neck. She was wrapping a small leather harness around Buckbeak’s neck to make the flight north feel safer; the other three Hippogriffs had been similarly strapped. Were they in pain, or striking for another kill? Harry held his own wand higher up into the air, and saw black shining back against the nothingness. She hovered for a moment and then took notice of something she hadn’t seen before. Was it really Draco you were meeting with in the corridor? What it was carrying Harry couldn’t tell. His eyes focused on his friend, folded in two in the centre of the room. When Harry came up and placed his hand against Sirius’ side, the dog recoiled in pain, but made no sound other than the short,
