the_debt_of_time

a used wand. Sirius declined to take it for himself, asserting that whatever magic he needed
he could do wandlessly—though it was admittedly less powerful.
It made no difference, however, when toward the end of March, one of their group
accidentally set off the Taboo on Voldemort's name, and a large group of Snatchers
surrounded and disarmed them.
Hermione had been smart enough to throw a Stinging Hex at Harry's face, thus
obscuring his well-known scar. Sirius was too easily recognised, so he shifted into Padfoot
before anyone caught sight of him. Hopes of escaping were put to rest due to the fact that
he could not possibly leave any of them behind, especially Harry and Hermione, so while
the Snatchers bound the two young wizards and the witch to another kid and a wounded
goblin, Padfoot was tackled and tied down by Fenrir Greyback.
"Scabior! This ain't a real dog," Greyback insisted. "I can smell the magic—
familiar magic—on him."
"Then bring it along; we'll figure it out at the manor," Scabior responded, grinning
as he held up a copy of the Daily Prophet that showed Hermione's face. Hermione Granger, it
read, known to be travelling with Harry Potter. A second look at Harry, swollen face or not, and
Scabior looked like he had just struck gold.
The group Disapparated into the darkness, and when they reappeared, Sirius
grimaced at the all-too-familiar sight of Malfoy Manor. The last time he had been there had
been for Lucius and Narcissa's wedding, something he had not even been invited to. It had
been a last-ditch effort to help save his cousin from a loveless and dangerous marriage
arrangement, but Narcissa, as usual, had cowered at the thought of her husband and had
Sirius thrown from the premises.
Now he was back, in the shape of a black dog, tied and thrown over the shoulder
of the very same werewolf who had infected his best friend.
One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and shook them.
"How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback!"
He whipped his hands away in fright. The iron was contorting, twisting itself out of
its abstract curls and coils into a frightening face that spoke in a clanging, echoing
voice: "State your purpose!"
"We've got Potter!" Greyback roared triumphantly. "We've captured Harry Potter!"
The gates swung open.