            At least six aurors had swarmed the cliffside, their pinstripe robes billowing in the wind as they circled around something.  No, not something—someone. Sirius. Two unfamiliar men had Sirius between them, gripping hard to his arms, which seemed to have been pinned magically behind his back. Panic shot through her as one of the others strode to the side, revealing Harry and Ron, visibly shouting at each other, though their voices had been silenced. Wands had already been drawn, but with another surge of alarm, she realized that all but one—Harry’s—were pointed at Sirius.