The open plains had already faded into the distance. Hills were slowly rising around them, revealing their true shapes.
Sirius could hear the savage snarls growing louder behind him. Every growl made his legs feel weak.
A thousand thoughts flooded his mind:
What the hell were those black dogs? Why did facing them fill him with the overwhelming feeling that he couldn't possibly fight back?
And why were they so determined to hunt him down?
Most importantly—where was he even running to? Where were James and Lily?
Doubt swallowed Sirius whole, and right behind the endless questions came the pack of black dogs, relentless as shadows.
As Sirius ran across the grassy hillside, a cloud of black mist spread out behind him. If he had eyes in the back of his head, he would have seen the mist pouring directly out of his own body.
"Sirius, how do you even have the face to show yourself?"
The hoarse voice sounded like both an accusation and a lament, echoing right behind him.
Sirius's steps faltered uncontrollably.
In that instant, his feet felt like they were made of lead.
He couldn't stop the memory from crashing over him.
Harry's father—his brother in all but blood—James. The only son of the Potters, who had treated him like their own child…
Because of his mistake, his arrogance, his stupidity, they had been brutally murdered.
How could he not need to know exactly what happened that night?
After Wormtail betrayed their location to Voldemort, the Dark Lord had found them in their little cottage.
It wasn't hard to imagine how James and Lily died.
And he couldn't stop himself from imagining it.
He pictured Voldemort killing Harry's father first.
James fighting desperately, screaming for his wife to take Harry and run…
Voldemort advancing on Lily Potter, telling her to step aside because he wanted the boy…
How she begged him to kill her instead, refusing to move, protecting her son with her life… until Voldemort murdered her too, then turned his wand on Harry…
"Sirius, how can you possibly have the face to see them?"
Sirius clutched his face in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You are controlled by whatever you fear, Mr. Black."
A young, calm voice spoke from behind him. Suddenly his body felt light again, and he snapped back to reality.
He heard a roar right next to his ear. A foul stench washed over his face. When he opened his eyes, an enormous mouth was stretched wide beside his head.
The black dog had opened its jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole—but it had frozen in place like a fish bone was stuck in its throat.
Sirius broke out in a cold sweat. He frantically searched for his god.
He found it immediately. The giant cat stood on top of the dog's head, staring down at him with magnificent emerald eyes.
Sirius swore he had never seen such a majestic cat. It looked like an enlarged magical leopard.
The giant cat brought its paw down. The massive black dog let out a pitiful whine and dissolved into wisps of black mist that still lingered around them like ghosts.
"Fear never truly disappears, Mr. Black. It lives forever in everyone's heart.
But even those who carry fear can still run."
The giant cat shrank like a deflating balloon until it was once again the size of an ordinary cat.
"What exactly are they…?" Sirius asked shakily, his throat dry.
"Let's talk about that another time, Mr. Black. We don't have much time left."
The black cat stared at the rising mist around them. It knew it had used too much of its power and interfered too heavily with the Borderland's rules.
Everything had a price. Sirius's fear and hesitation were costing him his stay in the dream.
If he hadn't been the black cat's guest, he would have vanished like one of Voldemort's soul fragments.
As for what the disappearance of a soul meant in the real world, one only had to look at the Killing Curse for reference.
…Though that raised another strange point. The Killing Curse destroyed the soul directly, which was why it left no physical marks.
Yet witches and wizards killed by the Killing Curse could still return to the Borderland through the Resurrection Stone.
Unless… the Killing Curse didn't actually destroy the soul. Maybe it wasn't powerful enough. Maybe it only expelled the soul from the body.
There was evidence for this—Harry's Resurrection Stone had summoned the souls of his parents and Cedric.
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked urgently, staring at the black cat with a mix of despair and desperate hope.
"Your steps are too heavy. Those who walk in the dream realm must tread lightly.
If you cannot let go of certain things, you will never reach the end of the path."
The black cat spoke with a sigh.
"Goodbye for now, Mr. Black. If one day you are ready to face the future instead of living in yesterday, come find me again…
Oh, and I'll be at Hogwarts."
The mist grew thicker and hotter than ever before.
The Borderland seemed to be punishing the wizard who had broken its rules. Since it couldn't punish the cat calmly licking its paw, it turned its wrath on Sirius.
Sirius felt unbearably hot. His skin burned, yet his heart was ice cold.
That voice had been right. How could he possibly have the face to see James and Lily?
Unless…
He thought of the baby. In his memory, the image of that infant had always lingered longer than James's face.
"If we win, honored god, I will return," Sirius said, his expression filled with fierce determination.
He looked at his god, who was now staring blankly at its own paw, whiskers twitching slightly as if surprised that its paw had instinctively pressed against them.
It was so absurdly cute that even Sirius couldn't help but squint in amusement.
"I have many guests," the black cat said seriously before leaving, pressing its tail down on its paw.
"If one day I meet a wandering soul instead of a living wizard, I would be willing to guide them out of the dream as well."
With that, the black cat ignored Sirius—who had frozen for a second before his face lit up with wild joy—and walked deeper into the mist.
When Sirius woke from the hazy dream, staring at the music box that was still playing its hypnotic melody, he suddenly spoke aloud:
"Master of Dreams and Mists… Bridge between Life and Death… Symbol of Eternal Good Fortune—"
He murmured the titles like a devout believer.
Meanwhile, his god was frowning deeply:
"Five and a half hours… Why did it take so long this time?"