"That black dog, it was there again. It's watching you, Regulus Black. Beware, one day it will come and get you."
"Don't be such nitwit, Dorcas. It's just a village dog and it's not watching me. The whole Quidditch team was there. It probably hopes for treats from the students."
"Have it your way, Regulus. I know what I saw. The dog only comes, when you're playing. And it's not coming for treats. Rosier threw it a sausage and it didn't even look. Mark my words, it's the Grim."
"Then we can be sure it's not coming for me. I've been seeing it since start of term. Six weeks, don't you think I should be dead by now, if it was the Grim?"
Dorcas Montague makes one of her ridiculous gestures to ward off evil which always betray that she was raised by her gypsy grandmother. I wonder how a pure blooded witch can fall for such Muggle superstition. Perhaps she's just doing it for the dramatic effect.
I may dismiss Dorcas' superstitious warnings about the Grim and omens of death, but she is right about one thing. I also feel the dog is watching me. I'd like to think it's a stray without home or family, lonely as I am since my brother has left.
It's strange how much I miss him. I know he's a damned blood traitor and I want to hate him.
The dog came to Quidditch practice again on Friday and then on Tuesday. It stands at the far end of the pitch and watches, but it disappears, when I fly nearer.
Severus returned to the common room with snake scales in his hair. They are still fighting, but not so much in public as last year. Araminta says Sirius and Potter missed today's transfiguration class. Hospital wing. I hope Potter's out off business for a few days.
I ask Severus to come outside. He's still grumpy; scales fall out of his hair, when he shakes his head and his face has a greenish tinge. I guess I have to go on my own.
At the lake's shore there's a patch of soft grass behind a rock. It can't be seen from the castle. It's still warm for late October and I stretch out and close my eyes.
After a few minutes I get the feeling that someone is near. I open my eyes. The dog is standing just a few yards away. It is huge, bear-like, but it doesn't feel dark. It's just a dog!
I remember that I still have a sandwich in my pocket. Chicken with mayonnaise, the only thing Sirius and I could agree about.
I unwrap it and tear off a piece to offer it to the dog. It tilts its head sidewards, hesitating.
"Come on, doggie. It's not poisoned. It's rather good in fact, " I say licking a trickle of mayonnaise from my fingers. "it' not as good as Kreacher's, but you can't have everything. Kreacher is my house elf, you know." The dog licks its lips at the sight of the sandwich, but it's still wary. It pricks its ears and scans the surroundings. "Nobody near, I assure you. This is my secret place."
The dog relaxes and approaches slowly, wagging the tip of its tail. It takes the sandwich out off my hand, carefully, tenderly. It doesn't chew, it swallows and then it's looking at me intensely. It wants more and starts licking my fingers. I tear another piece and hand it over. The dog takes it and lies down at my side, chewing, licking, watching me from behind a ragged curtain of long black fur. The sandwich is gone and the dog heaves a sigh of satisfaction.
"So you had my sandwich and what do I get?" The dog grins. Can dogs grin? Well, this one does.
It nudges me affectionately with its nose. "Is this a 'thank you'?" The grin broadens and reveals large, brilliantly white fangs. It starts licking at my ear. I turn my head away. "Stop that. It tickles."
The dog withdraws a few inches and looks down almost apologetically. I ruffle the fur on its head. It presses against my hand and groans deeply. "You like that, don't you?" It rolls over baring its belly, placing its head on my stomach. "Ummph, you're too heavy. I can't breathe." The dog lifts its head as if it understands. We lie side by side for a while, giving each other warmth and comfort. I pet and stroke it and it is rubbing against my body. I discover a bald patch just above its shoulder. It must have been a nasty cut, but it's clean and pink now, healed. "Someone has hurt you? I bet you bit his leg in return." The dog grins again and barks.
Suddenly the dog is tense. It pricks its ears and leaps over my body at a bush of broom. The frightened squeals of a small animal reaches my ears. The dog has chased it under a stone and growls and barks angrily.
I stand up and walk to his side. "It's allright, only a rat." The dog looks up to me. For the first time I can see its eyes clearly. They are almost human in their deep sadness. The dog leans against me, pushing me away from the stone and the rat towards the path to the castle. I wish to stay with it, but it's nudging and pushing. Up the path, just before we are in sight from the towers, it stops. It stands in front of me, looking at me again, wagging a goodbye and then turns to run towards the forest. I walk back to the castle, alone again.
At dinner Sirius sits alone at the edge of the Gryffindor table. He tries to murder his pork chop with his fork and knife. Potter is nowhere to be seen. His other friend Lupin sits beside him and talks to him, but Sirius doesn't look up.
" All's not well at the lions' court." Mulciber and Avery chuckle at Severus' remark. I look at him questioningly.
"Haven't you heard the rumours?" Avery explains. "Black and Potter had a fight this afternoon. Must have been serious. Your brother has hit Potter. Well, look for yourself..."
Potter has entered the great hall followed by his disgusting sycophant Pettigrew. He is sporting a magnificent black eye. My heart leaps in joy. Lupins stands up and walks towards Potter, obviously trying to negotiate peace. Sirius doesn't move.
Potter ignores Lupin and walks straight up to where Sirius is still hacking at the poor chop. A huge bubble suddenly appears above my brother's head. I want to shout a warning, but it's too late. The bubble bursts and a shower of ice water gushes over Sirius. He jumps, his wand out, staring at Potter who is now only a yard away. Sirius is wet all over, dripping on the floor. They stand there, staring. Then Sirius shakes his head wildly like a dog. Potter and everybody else who hasn't managed to get out off the way is nearly as wet as Sirius. That's it, it must be the end. I will get my brother back.
They are bursting with laughter, patting each other on their backs and settle at a dry part of the table.
"Face it, he won't come back." Severus whispers at my side. "Mind your own business." I snap. He does, while a groups of 6th year girls leaves the Gryffindor table, in their midst a fiery red-head.