CLXXXII: The Floo Network

                                    

                                          
Oliver Kent was passed out as soon as he hit the mattress in his room at the inn in Hogsmeade. Hagrid set him down with a groan and shook his head, but took the time to pull the blankets to cover him up and made sure a cup of water was set on the table beside the bed for him. "Poor thin' done hisself in," he murmured looking to the shaggy black dog, who sat watching Hagrid's progress from the rug in front of the hearth. The moment Hagrid had opened the door of the room, the dog had run to the hearth and snuffed around in the ash and wood there before settling himself down and watching Hagrid's work of ensuring Oliver's safety and comfort.
"I don't reckon he's got sommat for yeh to eat 'round in here, does he?" Hagrid murmured, glancing about, but not seeing anything that suggested a dog bowl or a meal fit for the dog. He fished about in the deep pockets of his moleskin coat for a moment before triumphantly pulling forth a bag, which the mere scent of had the dog salivating excitedly, tail wagging. Hagrid chuckled and opened the package inside up - a foil wrapped plate of fish and chips. He tore off a bit of the fish and squatted down, holding the food out on a flattened palm. The dog eagerly ate the piece of fish, slobbering slightly on Hagrid's extended hand. Hagrid chuckled and scratched the dog behind the ears some more as he scarfed down the fish. Hagrid tossed a couple of the chips to him as well. "Yer sure are a hungry boy aint'cha?" He ended up feeding the entire meal to the dog and said, "Ah well, me an' Fang'll eat the lef'over stew instead. Yer a g'boy and deserve a good meal in yeh, too." Hagrid's kind eyes watched as the dog finished off his dinner.
When the dog was done, Hagrid pushed himself up, crumpling the foil the food had been wrapped in and tossed it into the bin. He patted the dog one last time and then slid out the door, pulling the latch tight behind him. The dog sat still, staring at the door for several moments, nose twitching as he sniffed at the air.
He could've sworn he smelled something familiar on the air - something like dusty old books and worn jumpers, but he didn't dare to believe it.
He climbed up onto the bed instead and inspected Oliver Kent, who was sprawled on his back, head turned to one side on the pillow, breathing rather loudly through his nose and mouth as he slept. The dog nudged his face, nose pressing to the famous Seeker's cheek a couple times, but Oliver didn't shift at all. Appeased that he was, indeed, completely asleep and not waking up in the immediate moments, the dog jumped back down off the bed and onto the rug by the fire... and transformed into Sirius Black.
Sirius was sitting, knees to his chest, his heart racing as as he stared at the bed, half expecting the pop of the transformation to have awoken Oliver, but he slept on without stirring. Sirius slowly stood up, pushing himself up from the floor and went to the door, quickly twisting the lock and whispering additional charms to be sure the door was not easily opened by an alohamora or something similar. Then he crossed the room, grabbed Oliver's coat, which Hagrid had laid across the arm of a chair, and hurriedly fished out Oliver's wand from the pocket sewn in. He put it on the mantle over the fireplace, tucked out of sight so that, should Oliver wake up, he would have a few moments' time to explain himself before being hit with a hex.
Well, he'd been wondering how he would gain access to a floo to talk with Harry... and this opportunity had presented itself, practically tied up with a bow. He started looking over the mantel and the shelves on either side of it, trying to find if there had been any complimentary Floo powder left on the shelves. He found the small box of it and too it down - there wasn't a lot, and he decided, to be safe, he would keep this box in his pocket when he transformed back. If Oliver Kent needed more floo powder then he could purchase some, but Sirius would only have what was left out for him to borrow from, and he wasn't willing to risk not having any at all.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pocket watch on it's chain and checked the time. It was late enough that surely most of the students would be in bed - the perfect time to test the floo, when he had the least amount of risk to getting caught. Another glance back at Oliver, who was still well asleep, and he drew his wand.
"Incendio," he whispered, and a jet of light erupted from his wand, blazing the logs on the fire to life. The warmth alone made him happy and he rubbed his palms together, basking in the heat that came up from the fire for a moment before opening the little box and pinching the tiniest bit of the floo powder up. He tossed the pinch of powder onto the logs and a bright green blaze of flame-like aura rose up, smoky and hazy. He tucked the box away and as he inched closer, he fleetingly wondered who the first witch or wizard was that had discovered the floo network was and how many times they'd set their heads on fire before they'd figured out how to work it properly. He chuckled at the thought, and then whispered, "Gryffindor Common Room," and leaned forward, shoving his face into the green fire that flickered before him, palms on the edge of the hearth to steady himself.
It was like bonking one's face into wall. A pain ran up his nose and he drew back quickly, falling backward onto his bum on the rug and rubbing his palms over his nose, muttering curses under his breath. "What the bleeding --" 
It occurred to him as he was complaining under his breath that the answer was obvious. The Gryffindor floo was under protection, of course it was. Only certain floos had full access to the outside world and it only made sense that the opposite would therefore be true as well - only certain floos would have access in. But surely it could be done - he could remember the first night they'd ever been at Hogwarts, coming down the steps to find James Potter in front of the hearth in Gryffindor Common Room, talking with Charlus Potter in the fire. Sirius wondered and rubbed his chin. Charlus had been friends with Minerva McGonagall in the day, and with Dumbledore - he remembered Dumbledore coming 'round the Potters for dinner a couple of times when he'd been staying with them during summer holidays. Clearly, Charlus probably had special permissions then, access granted to speak with his son. Maybe only parents could access the floo in the common room? But regardless, it seemed that he, Sirius, would need to get permission.
He got up and went to the small desk by the window and found some parchments that had been left, a quill laying across them, and he grabbed a fresh sheet, pushing Oliver's half-finished correspondence aside, and wrote out a note to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore, I require the special permissions to access the floo network in Gryffindor Tower in order to speak with my godson, Harry. He is in need of moral and emotional support  through this Triwizard Tournament bullshit that you and other members of our delightful Ministry have committed him to, and I, as his loving and legal godfather, must have the opportunity to speak with him as soon as possible and--
As he wrote, he caught another waft of the familiar scent again, pausing mid-sentence.
He abandoned his parchment and stood up, walking across the room, following the smell, nose upturned. With a shaking hand, he unlocked the door of the room, glancing back at Oliver, and clutching his wand tight in his fist in case he needed to use it to make a fast escape. The door of the room creaked opened and he stuck his head out into the hallway, looking one way and then the other, breathing deeply through his nose.
The scent was stronger in the corridor.
And then a door just down the hall opened - a triangle of light cut across the hallway, slicing over the ugly carpet that lined the corridor and up the opposite wall. Another head poked out of the other door, and also looked around - left and right - also breathing deeply, just as Sirius was doing, and Sirius nearly pulled back into his own room, but the smell had gotten so strong at the opening of the door that he was sort of shocked into a paralysis of sorts - unable to draw back, even at risk of being found out.
Sirius stared in disbelief.
So did Remus.
Silence filled the corridor, and neither Sirius nor Remus moved for several long seconds, but just stared into one another's eyes from opposite ends of the hallway.
"Sirius?" Remus's voice was but a breath of disbelief.
And, inhibitions melted at the sound of his name, Sirius lunged out the door of the room, his eyes and arms wide open.