Saving Mrs Norris

by Snapegirlkmf

Maverick, Snape's dog, risks his life to save Filch's cat. But who will save Maverick? Mild Corporal punishment!

Saving Mrs. Norris

starring Maverick

this takes place a year after the events in A Friend In Need

Threatening black clouds hovered over Hogwarts School like enemy soldiers poised for a surprise attack. It had been about to storm for several hours now and most of the students were inside, studying in the library or their common rooms, or dozing in their beds after the long day of classes. It was twilight, that inbetween time that was neither day nor night, and the chill damp weather was not encouraging anyone to venture outside.

Maverick, the large black and tan shepherd-collie belonging to Potions Master Snape, was bored. The weather made his master forgo his afternoon game of fetch outside, instead Severus was brewing up a batch of Pepper Up Potion and also a cauldron of Decongestion Draft by request of Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' resident medi-witch. The acrid stench of the potions made the dog wrinkle his nose in disgust and rise from beside the desk where he'd been lying in Snape's classroom and depart hastily.

Ugh! That smells worse than a week old pile of vegetables rotting, Maverick thought, shaking his head to rid his nose of the awful odor. How can Sev stand to be anywhere near that is beyond me. Then again, all humans are nose-blind, and probably grateful for it.

The dog trotted down the corridor, tongue lolling, searching for something or someone to amuse himself with. He was a well-known sight to all the young wizarding students and most of them wouldn't hesitate to play a game of tag or hide-the-bone with him. But on this day, the corridors were empty of playmates.

Until Maverick caught a familiar scent.

Mrs. Norris, Filch the caretaker's grouchy haughty cat.

Maverick grinned. The tortoiseshell cat was always good for a romp through the castle. Of course, Maverick almost always had to tease her into one, for she would never admit to lowering herself to playing with a mere mutt like himself. But he knew that she too was probably bored and would welcome a diversion.

He followed his nose and discovered the feline curled up a window ledge, her yellow eyes glazing over watching the clouds scuttle across the gray sky.

Ah, just as I thought. Bored out of her mind. If she was a puppy, she'd be chasing her tail.

The friendly mongrel wagged his tail twice before crouching low and attempting to stalk the wary cat.

Mrs. Norris lazily opened her eyes and hissed, Don't even try it, you mischief-seeking mutt. I'm in no mood for your silly games today.

Maverick's eyes gleamed. Aw, come on, Mrs. N, even you can't be thrilled watching clouds go by.

I'm meditating, you furry ignoramus, she growled, her tail twitching warningly.

Meditating, yeah right. Dreaming about tuna steak and cream and handsome tomcats is more like it.

Mrs. Norris rolled her eyes. So what if I was? It's none of your business, Maverick. Now why don't you go and bother someone else, or go and chew up another pair of somebody's boots? She suggested slyly. I hear McGonagall has a new pair of suede Witchfords that are just begging for you to sink your destructive teeth into them.

Maverick flattened his ears at her remark. Unfair, Mrs. Perfect Kitty. I never meant to eat Dumbledore's griffin-hide boots, just nibble a bit on the edges. It wasn't my fault they were so tasty.

Humph, snorted the cat. Only a dog would find shoe leather palatable. We cats are more refined.

Oh, yeah? So refined, you'll snitch fish bones out of the garbage, the dog sneered.

What? I've never–

Don't play innocent with me, Mrs. Sly Boots. I saw you last night, digging through the trash heap outside looking for that half a fish head Hagrid chucked in there.

Mrs. Norris fluffed up her tail and spat at him. Liar! I'm a pedigreed British Longhair, I'd never demean myself by pawing through refuse like a common mongrel like you, Maverick.

Don't look now, sister, but you just did last night. My nose doesn't lie, and I can smell a distinct odor of salmon clinging to your pedigreed coat.

Insufferable beast! Mrs. Norris snarled. I don't know how Professor Snape puts up with you. You are the most rude, crude, smelly dog I have ever met, except for Hagrid's dumb Fang, not to mention the most disobedient too. The professor's too soft on you, if I were your master, I'd have kicked your furry backside out into the street long before now. Her tail lashed angrily.

Thank Canis Major for small favors, the dog barked. Because if you were my master, I'd drown myself. No self-respecting dog will ever call a cat master. You're too arrogant as it is.

The cat sniffed. It isn't arrogance if you're right. Which I am. We both know that Snape only kept you out of charity, not because he wanted you.

Grrr! Maverick bared his teeth. That's below the belly, prissy kitty. Sev loves me, and he'll never give me away. I'm man's best friend, after all.

Ha! Man's best friend, that's funny. More like man's worst headache! You're in trouble more than one of the Weasley twins, Maverick. How many times this week did Professor Snape threaten to magic your jaws shut or make a rug out of your hide?

He wasn't serious. You know his temper, he never means half the things he says when he's angry. Besides, he forgave me for breaking his antique Waterford crystal potions bottle, I got too excited and my tail knocked it over. And that time with the chocolate bonbons . . .what dog can resist chocolate, especially when it's left right out on the coffee table?

You ate the box as well as the chocolate, dumb twit, the cat chortled. And then you had the gall to get sick all over the rug too!

I couldn't help it, the dog replied defensively. I was stuck in his rooms, and nobody came to let me out. Besides, you're just as bad, Puke Puss, hacking up hairballs all over Filch's good cloak.

Now it was Mrs. Norris's turn to bristle. It was reflex. Argus knows better than to leave his good cloak lying on the floor.

On the floor? That's not the way I heard it. I heard you knocked it on the floor of the closet trying to catch a dust mote and then you spit up all over it afterwards. Now what's your excuse, Mrs. Hairess?

Mrrow! Hissed the mortified cat, and swiped at the smirking dog with her paw, claws unsheathed.

But Maverick was too quick, having the reflexes of a street mongrel. He ducked her claws, then bounded forward, jaws agape, to lick her entire face, making sure he slobbered all over her pristine coat.

Ahh! Rrrow! The cat wailed. Dog slobber, ick! Nasty dirty dog drool all over my beautiful sleek fur! How DARE you! She shook her head frantically, then leaped over him in one bound, hissing in irritation.

Us inferior mongrels will dare anything, y'know, sniggered Maverick. Personally, I think it suits you, O Queen of the Trash. Now that you're all mussed, how about a game of Race and Chase?

If you think I'm playing anything with you after what you just did, you dumb beast . . .you can go jump in the lake! Mrs. Norris hissed indignantly, pawing ineffectively at her face, which was sticky with dog drool.

With pleasure, if you go in first, Your Droolness, Maverick taunted, then lunged at her, pretending to growl ferociously.

Mrs. Norris, like most cats, did not favor direct confrontations with any dog bigger than her, and instinctively bolted, running like a streak of multicolored light down the corridor.

Maverick delightedly gave chase, staying a bare half step behind the feline, barking occasionally.

Students stuck their heads out of their common room when they heard the dog barking and laughed as the pair raced by. "Get her, Maverick!" they cheered. "Show that nasty cat who's boss."

Mrs. Norris was not very well liked around the school, since she helped her master Filch patrol the halls after curfew and catch students out of bed. She also was rather standoffish, and did not cozy up to any students, feeling they were beneath her. So when she ran through the halls, tail fluffed out and fur standing on end, Maverick in hot pursuit, most of the students were not sympathetic.

In fact, some of the Slytherins were egging Maverick on, telling him to "Kill that mangy cat!" and "Chomp her tail off, boy!" among other things.

Not that Maverick would have listened to them in any case. The dog did not obey students unless specifically ordered to by Severus, and besides he was not intending any harm to the supercilious feline. It was a game, sheer fun and mischievous mayhem, nothing more.

He chased the cat up and down the staircases, moving so quickly that the stairs never had time to shift on them. Mrs. Norris ducked into empty classrooms and jumped on top of suits of armor to no avail. Maverick always found her, his nose was very keen after living on the streets for half his life.

The cat darted in and out of the tables in the Great Hall, weaving her slender body under benches and between students' feet like a snake. Maverick bolted after her, trying to cut her off, but then she cheated by jumping on the staff table and running inbetween the tea tray and cups Dumbledore had set out for a late afternoon tea with Professors McGonagall and Sprout.

"What on earth!" exclaimed Pomona, her eyes wide as Mrs. Norris skipped over the tray of cucumber sandwiches and iced strawberry tarts. "Get off the table, you silly kitty!"

Dumbledore's mouth twitched as the cat scampered towards him, and McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow and said, "It's hardly her fault, Pomona. She's running from that furry pony of Severus's again." She pointed at Maverick who was bounding across the hall towards the staff table.

Oh no, you don't! Maverick panted. Play fair, Mrs. N.

Why should I? She meowed. Cats rule and dogs drool.

Oh yeah?

Maverick growled, then launched himself at the table.

"No! Bad dog!" McGonagall shouted, waving her arms frantically, trying to head off the impending disaster to no avail. "Maverick, don't you dare–!"

But Maverick was too caught up in the chase and making the insolent tabby pay for her remarks to think about what he was doing. He had to catch that cat, and he would, by the Dog Star.

He landed atop the table with a crash that sent cups and saucers clattering and smashing all over the floor. Then his big paws went splat!–into the dish of eclairs and his tail–swish-sent the pitcher of milk over right into Professor McGonagall's lap.

"Maverick! You clumsy insane beast! Get down this instant!" she yelled, shaking her finger at him. "Look at the mess you made!"

The dog ignored her, Mrs. Norris's tail was an inch from his nose, and he didn't much care that he'd tromped all over the tray of sandwiches and tracked whipped cream all over the tablecloth.

The cat made one desperate leap, soaring over the silver tea pot and Dumbledore's head to land triumphantly on the floor, where she then climbed up the drapes on the right side of the hall.

Maverick barked in dismay, then gathered himself and tried to emulate the cat's leap, forgetting that he didn't have near enough room to pull it off. He fell short, his big paws slamming into the Headmaster's chest and sending the old wizard crashing to the floor.

"Oof!" gasped Dumbledore, for he was momentarily speechless, with ninety pounds of furry dog sitting on his chest.

Oops. Sorry, sir. Maverick whined sheepishly.

Behind him the students were snickering and laughing and McGonagall was advancing him like an avenging angel, her eyes dark with wrath.

"Bad dog! You've ruined our tea, you wretched furball." She grabbed the guilty Maverick by his collar, dragging him off poor Dumbledore, who was gasping for breath. "Are you all right, Albus?"

"Fine, Minerva," Dumbledore coughed. "Just a bit . . .winded."

"No wonder, after Severus's great galumphing elephant just sat on you," the Transfiguration teacher scowled. "Sit! Now stay!" she ordered firmly, and the dog obeyed, his ears drooping.

Oh, no. I think I'm in trouble again, Maverick whined unhappily.

"There now, Minerva. The dog didn't mean to knock me over, he just got carried away," said the Headmaster, ruffling the shepherd-collie's ears fondly.

"Carried away, indeed! Carried away by mischief, is what I say," snorted Minerva. "You've been very very bad, Maverick!" she scolded the dog. Then she glanced back at the wreckage of spilled food and tea and smashed crockery. "I'm going to get Severus, tell him to get his troublemaking animal out of here so we can have tea in peace! Honestly, that dog is more trouble than three two-year-olds!"

"Now, Minerva . . ." began Dumbledore placatingly. "The cat started it . . ."

Yeah, she did. Listen to him, professor, whimpered the dog.

But McGonagall ignored him, stomping over to the fireplace and tossing down a pinch of Floo Powder. "Severus Snape's office!" Then she stuck her head through the green flames and yelled, "Severus, come and get your dog before he wrecks the rest of the castle! Look what he's done to our tea service . . ."

Ooo, are you in trouble now, Mrs. Norris meowed from atop her perch on the drapes, licking her paw smugly. I hope Snape tans your hide, Mr. I'm-Too-Clever-For-My-Fur.

Shut up, fishbait! growled Maverick. This is all your fault!

My fault? I think not. I didn't tell you to jump on the table, fleabag, purred the cat smugly.

Maverick snarled softly under his breath, cursing the sneaky cat. It just wasn't fair. Why was he always the one to get the blame when something like this happened?

"Sweet Merlin!" Severus exclaimed, upon stepping through the fireplace and catching sight of what remained of the tea table and its occupants, all of whom were liberally splattered with the remains of the tea, cream, and pieces of food. Dumbledore had a half a strawberry tart clinging to his beard and large pawprints all over his purple robes.

"I apologize, Albus," Snape began, then stalked over to where his dog was sitting, ears and tail drooping. He gave the penitent mongrel his most stern glare, his hands on his hips. "You are in very big trouble, mister."

Aw, Sev. I didn't mean to, really.

"Come, Maverick. You're a disgrace, you know that? How many times have I told you to leave that damn cat alone? Why can't you learn to behave? I should've adopted a Pomeranian, I swear it. I don't know what gets into you, I really don't . . ." scolded the Potions Master as he dragged his dog from the hall. Maverick followed, wincing at the angry tone, trying to ignore the laughter from the students. Then he recalled Mrs. Norris's smug expression and he snarled softly, Just wait, you'll get yours, you sneaky thing! Someday . . .

After a thorough scolding from his very irate master, which included Snape calling him "the worst dog in the whole world" and threatening to "open the door and let him go play in the street, where bad dogs belonged", as well as a smack on the rump, which hurt the dog's pride more than anything else, Severus sent Maverick out of the castle. "Out! Now!" he ordered, pointing with his finger. Maverick slunk away like a whipped cur, tail tucked between his legs, disgraced and ashamed. "You can come back inside after fifteen minutes, when you've learned to behave yourself."

That ultimatum issued, Severus shut the door in Maverick's face.

Maverick knew that fifteen minutes wasn't a long time, not for people. But for a dog, fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity. Dejectedly, the big dog lay down on the stone steps in front of the castle entrance, his head on his paws, the very picture of canine misery.

He knew that he had very much deserved Snape's wrath, and yet . . .he was not the only guilty party here.

Why was it that blasted cat always managed to get off scot-free? There she'd sat, like the bloody queen of all she surveyed, while he was scolded and smacked and sent out of the castle. And now she'd be insufferable for days, going on about the superiority of felines and how cats had once been worshipped as gods, proof that they were better than any dog. Humph! The only thing cats are superior at is never getting caught in mischief. If that sneaky feline hadn't cheated and jumped on the table, I wouldn't have followed, nothing would've been broken, and Sev wouldn't be mad at me. Why does everything bad happen to me? Why can't something bad ever happen to HER for a change?

There were times he was sure Mrs. Norris led a charmed life, for she never got in trouble for anything, was rewarded for tattling on students, and pretty much did whatever she pleased whenever she wanted, like a typical cat.

Whereas he, as Sev's dog, was expected to be a model of canine obedience and a credit to his master always. Maverick heaved a sigh. There were times he almost wished he was a cat.

Mrs. Norris, after shinnying down the curtains (and leaving rents in the expensive velvet), would have agreed with Maverick one hundred percent just then. The smug cat stalked from the hall with her tail held high, the picture of a cat who'd just pulled one over on everybody. Silly mutt, thinking he could outsmart me. Why, I'm the queen of the quick escape, the mistress of the masterful dodge, the goddess of the great leap . . .the cat congratulated herself as she glided down the hall back to Argus's quarters, where she knew a dish of tuna awaited her and a nap in front of the fire in her basket. She needed her beauty sleep, by Bast the Eternal Mother of Cats.

She would never admit it, but Maverick's games always wore her out, she was not quite as young as she used to be, though she was still as spry and quick and smart enough to scamper out of sight when trouble appeared, unlike that foolish mongrel, who simply sat there and let himself be punished by his master, something which no cat out of her first fur would have permitted. Filch had attempted to swat her once when she was a kitten for clawing his favorite chair, but she'd quickly shown him the error of his ways with a deftly wielded set of claws and he'd never dared lay a finger on her in anger ever again.

She halted, beginning to groom herself, trying in vain to get Maverick's slobber off of her face, it was positively disgusting how it clung to her fur. She was so engrossed in her scrubbing that she failed to notice the two students lurking in the doorway of the Slytherin common room.

Big mistake.

For these particular students, Gerald Crouch and Tom Thatcher, were among the nastiest boys ever to attend Hogwarts, right up there with Tom Riddle and his gang. They'd long been searching for a way to get revenge on Filch for catching them painting obscene pictures on the walls of the dungeon and earning them a weeks worth of detention with both him and their Head of House (who was most unforgiving and not at all amused by the mocking pictures they'd painted of him together with Professor McGonagall).

Plus they hated animals and were always looking for ways to torment them. Before Maverick had been adopted by Severus, they'd tortured him with a Blistering Hex and a Jellylegs Jinx and pelted him with rocks and garbage, back when he was a stray on the streets of Diagon Alley. Until Severus caught them and put a stop to their cruelty, that is. He'd scared them so badly that neither of them ever dared to harm Maverick again.

But Mrs. Norris, the prim and proper kitty, Filch's pride and joy, was fair game.

Exchanging grins of pure malice, they crept towards the cat, who was intently washing her fur, scrubbing at her whiskers over and over. Gerald summoned a bag with a wave of his wand, and in one quick move popped it over the cat, trapping her neatly.

"Gotcha, you mangy thing!" he crowed.

Mrs. Norris yowled and struggled frantically, lashing out with all four sets of claws to no avail. The sack was a heavy burlap, used to store bushels of onions and potatoes and her claws couldn't penetrate it. Gerald quickly tied it with a long piece of string he'd had in his pocket and the cat was now a prisoner of two of the most psychotic students in the school.

"Now what shall we do with the old horror, Gerald?" asked Tom, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Shall we skin her and tack up her hide to Filch's office door?"

Mrs. Norris froze, then began to struggle even harder. They're not kidding. They really mean it. Oh, Argus, where are you-u-u! She screeched loudly.

"Nah. That's too messy. Someone might see," disagreed the other boy. "Shut yer gob, alley cat!" he snarled and whacked the bag hard against the wall, effectively stunning the meowing cat inside.

"That'll teach you!" snickered his friend.

"Shhh. C'mon, let's get out of here before somebody sees us holding this sack and asks what's in it," hissed Crouch, and the two made a hasty departure out of the castle through a secret tunnel from the dungeons that led to the shores of the Black Lake.

The two boys stood there for a moment, contemplating what they should do next. Tom eyed the frothing waters of the lake consideringly. "How's about we chuck her in the lake, Gerry? That ought to give Filch something to talk about, all right."

An evil smirk spread over the older boy's face. "Brilliant, Tom! When Filch finds his precious little baby gone, he'll bawl worse than a two-year-old. And then maybe he'll quit snooping around the castle and leave us alone for once. Let's do it."

He made as if to heave the sack into the lake, but Tom grabbed his arm. "Wait! Wait, that's not the way to do it. We need to put rocks in there to weigh it down, so it sinks. Like ballast."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Find me some rocks."

So Tom searched and soon found two fairly good sized stones. "All righty, mate. Open the sack and we'll put 'em in."

But Mrs. Norris had been biding her time, listening to their dreadful plan, and when Gerry untied the sack and reached in with the rock, she managed to grab his wrist with her front paws, shredding it with her claws and biting him.

"YEOW!"

The wrist was quickly withdrawn and Gerald punched the bag hard.

"Mangy cat!"

"Here, let me have a go," said Tom, and he thrust his hand inside along with the rock.

There was a hiss and then he screamed as well, for Mrs. Norris had mighty sharp teeth and even half-stunned packed a nasty bite.

"Forget the rock," cried Tom, pulling out his bloody hand. "Just chuck her in."

A long low wail emerged from the sack as the cat called out for someone, anyone to save her. Help! Help! They're going to throw me in the lake! Mrrow-meeow!

Gerald hastily cinched the sack, muffling the dreadful caterwauling, and whipped the sack around his head once, twice.

Then he released it and the sack flew through the air and landed in the middle of the black water with a splash.

"That'll teach her, the miserable sodding animal," snarled Gerald, watching the sack bobbing on the surface and then slowly begin to sink. Clutching his bleeding wrist, which sported several deep scratches and teeth marks, he turned and walked back towards the tunnel.

Tom followed, whimpering, "Wonder if she's got rabies? I don't wanna go mad and die."

"Aw, shut up!" growled his companion.

Maverick had been dozing, trying in vain not to think about how lonely he was and how the smells of food drifting from the kitchens were making him drool, when the panicked screech of a cat in mortal peril reached his ears.

The dog sat up with a sharp woof of alarm. Huh? What was that?

Then he heard it again.

Help me! Help! They're going to throw me in the lake!

Now Maverick recognized that terrified howl, for Mrs. Norris had a most distinctive voice, raspy and dark, and even though he was mad at her for making him get in trouble, the gallant dog could not ignore her cry for help. To protect and to serve was his motto and he did this extremely well.

He tore off the entryway barking like a fiend, running like a streak of black flame. Hang on, Mrs. N! I'm coming!

Across the lawn he flew, his long legs covering the ground with unbelievable speed. Even so, he was not in time to stop the sack from being thrown into the water. He did, however, catch the distinctive scent of Crouch and Thatcher in the air, and snarled loudly, for they were his mortal enemies.

He had neither forgotten nor forgiven them for almost killing him that night in Knockturn Alley, but right now there were more important things to worry about. He barked loudly, hoping to summon help from Hagrid or Fang. But at that moment, the skies opened up and it began to rain, an icy deluge that soaked the dog and made any attempt at calling for help useless, for no one could hear him over the pounding rain and the crack of thunder.

There was no help for it, but for him to save Mrs. Norris by himself, the black dog thought with a sigh. The things I do for you, cat. Not that you deserve it, but still, I can't just let you drown, even if you are a sneaky arrogant little creature.

He could just make out the cat's frantic wails as the sack slowly filled with water.

Maverick gathered himself and then he sprang out over the water in one magnificent leap, straining all the muscles in his great body.

He landed some two feet shy of the sack, and quickly began to paddle towards it. Water got in his eyes and nose, making him sneeze and cough, but he continued making his way towards the sack, swimming furiously against the swirling water.

At last his teeth closed on the end of the sack and he bit down hard. Got it! It's okay, Mrs. Norris! I've got you, now just relax and I'll swim to shore.

The half-drowned cat was never so glad to hear Maverick's familiar growl in all of her days. She gave a soft mew of relief and then concentrated on keeping her head above the water that had sloshed into the sack.

Now Maverick was a strong swimmer, despite not having a scrap of retriever ancestry in him. His chest and shoulders were solid steel muscle and he kept fit by running and playing every day with Fang and Severus and the students.

But the water in the lake was a chilly ten degrees and the storm whipped the waves to a froth that smashed into the black dog repeatedly, hampering his ability to swim to safety.

Maverick strained to keep his head above water, but it was difficult due to the fact that he had a sack clenched between his teeth with ten pounds of soaking wet cat inside. The sack was like a millstone around his neck, and his teeth ached from holding it. His thick fur, wonderful insulation in the snow, quickly became waterlogged and dragged him down, making him spend extra effort to pull himself through the water.

Yet he dared not stop to rest, he continued paddling desperately against the inexorable flow of the current, but between the freezing cold and the storm tossed water, his strength was slowly waning.

Exhaustion was claiming him inch by aching inch, and he had to force himself to put one paw in front of the other. Twice he went under the water, swamped by four foot waves, and only his stubborn will enabled him to break the surface and continue to stroke for the shore. Every muscle in his great body throbbed and burned and it was all he could do not to succumb to the sweet seductive urge to sleep and never wake again. The cold crept unnoticed into his bones making him shiver violently, yet he swam on.

Some unknown instinct kept him pointed unerringly towards the shore, so despite the storm's fury, he did not get turned about and lost, as could have happened to another dog. But what had seemed like an easy two hundred yard swim out to the sack and back to shore now proved to be an endless nightmare, a struggle that was slowly costing Maverick his life.

So tired . . .I can't do this . . .but I must . . .have to save Mrs. Norris . . .can't let it be for nothing . . .Oh, Sev, I need you . . .how I wish you could hear me . . .

He did not even have the strength to bark, not that anybody could have heard him over the crash of thunder and lightning. His head was pounding, his eyesight blurred from the dark and the rain, yet he moved one paw and then another in a slow painful tread, over and over, until at last his weary paws touched the muddy shore of the lakeside.

With one last great heave, Maverick dragged himself and his precious burden out of the churning waters and onto solid ground once more. The sack tumbled from his jaws and Mrs. Norris scrambled and clawed to get out of the suffocating burlap.

Maverick was too weak to help, he collapsed, his legs crumbling like wet sand beneath him. He fell on his face in the mud, half-drowned, in shock, and his eyes closed and he lay still.

At the first crack of thunder, Severus Snape returned to the castle entrance to let his dog back inside, only to discover that Maverick was missing. He peered out into the dark, lighting up the stairs with his wand. "Now where the blazes did that crazy animal go?" he muttered irritably. "It's raining cats and dogs out here and he's off galloping in the rain somewhere I bet, the silly mutt."

Shaking his head at Maverick's incomprehensible behavior, Severus whistled shrilly. He knew that if the dog were anywhere nearby, he would come to the whistle as he'd been trained.

Snape waited a few minutes, then figured perhaps Maverick couldn't hear it over the storm and pointed his wand at his throat and said, "Sonorous." That was the spell for amplifying one's voice.

Then he whistled again, sure that this time the dog could hear him.

Amplified a hundred times normal, the whistle shrilled off into the air, audible even over the thunder's rumble.

Still no response.

Severus tried calling. "Maverick! Here, boy! Come!"

Suddenly, he caught sight of a shape moving along the path to the school entrance. Squinting through the lashing curtain of rain, he could barely make it out.

To his disappointment, it was not his wayward dog trotting home in answer to his command, but only Hannah Preston, one of his students, a second-year Ravenclaw. She was making her way back from the greenhouse, having stayed late finishing an extra-credit project for Professor Sprout.

She came up the steps, her blue cloak dripping water in a steady stream, though the rest of her remained dry thanks to a hastily cast waterproof spell. "Professor, is something wrong?" she asked upon catching sight of her teacher standing on the front steps, peering into the rain soaked grounds.

Severus cleared his throat, then canceled the voice amplifying spell so he could talk normally again. That spell always left him with a sore throat afterwards, so when he replied, his voice was slightly hoarse. "Ah, Miss Preston, have you seen Maverick wandering about out there?" he waved his hand in the general direction she had just come from.

"No, sir. Why, is he missing?"

"He is now. I've called and whistled, but I can't seem to locate him." Snape sighed, trying to conceal his mounting concern behind a facade of gruffness and annoyance. "Figures. That dog knows the best way to get into trouble, but he's not smart enough to come in out of the rain."

Hannah, who knew Maverick from spending a whole week with the dog as her protector last year, said softly, "That doesn't sound like him, sir. He's always hated baths, so why would he be running about in this getting soaked? Perhaps something's happened to him?"

That was Severus's thought as well, but he was not willing to admit it just yet. "Now don't go borrowing trouble, Preston. I'm sure he's up to his ears in mischief somewhere, like always. Still, I'd appreciate it if you'd help me look for him."

"Of course, sir. I'd be glad to," Hannah agreed swiftly, she would have volunteered in any case. "Maybe we could check Hagrid's cottage, I know Fang often plays with Maverick."

"Yes, that's a good idea. We'll start there. With luck, we'll find him snoozing in front of Hagrid's fire." Severus said hopefully. Then he strode down the steps, Hannah following.

But when they knocked on Hagrid's door, the big gamekeeper told them regretfully he hadn't seen Maverick since this morning, when he'd played tug-o-war with Fang on the lawn.

"Sorry, Professor Snape, but he's not here." Hagrid's forehead crinkled with worry. "And 'tisn't a fit night out for man nor beast, know what I mean?"

Snape nodded, his lips pursed in his trademark scowl, though his anger was directed more at himself than at his missing dog now. He was beginning to regret very much his sending the dog outside as a punishment. Really, Severus, what were you thinking, giving a dog a time-out like a child, for Merlin's sake? Surely yelling at him and giving him a swat was enough. Where could he have gone and why? Maverick hates thunderstorms, he ought to have been huddled right next to the door, crying for someone to let him in.

"Do you think you might help us search for him, Hagrid?" he asked the big man. "The three of us could cover more ground that way. I don't like the idea of him being out in this alone, though I'd hope he'd have sense enough to take cover in a wicked gale like this."

"Sure, Professor, not a problem," Hagrid agreed. He was always eager to help an animal in trouble, no matter the hour or the weather. He pulled his huge umbrella out of its stand and snapped his fingers for Fang, his huge black boarhound, who was Maverick's playmate. He also took one of his extra large weatherproof lanterns. "Where shall we start, sir?"

"Hmm. . . Preston and I shall look down near the greenhouse, he likes to lie in the shade of a large oak tree there. You and Fang might want to scout around here and perhaps by the lake as well, I've seen him chasing ducks down near there."

"Sounds good t'me," Hagrid nodded. "I'll shout if I find him, okay?"

"Yes. And if I find him first, I'll use my wand and fire off a Prismari spell," Snape said, for he was not up to using the Sonorous spell twice in the same evening.

The three trekked outside, and split up, though Severus insisted Hannah stay within sight at all times. "The last thing we need is for you to go missing too, Miss Preston."

He did, however send her off in the opposite direction while they searched behind the greenhouse. But the dog was nowhere to be found. Hannah called and whistled, and with each second that passed, she became more and more frightened for the big dog.

"Maverick! Ma-a-a-ver-rick!"

Meanwhile, Mrs. Norris had managed to free herself from the sack at last and now huddled next to her furry rescuer, wet and miserable, yet triumphant too. For she had survived the lake, proving once more the truth behind the legend that cats had nine lives. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed, for she absolutely HATED getting wet. Shaking her head to clear her ears of water, she sniffed and licked at the dog lying limply in the mud.

You're in a bad way, Maverick, you crazy dog. Your nose is hot and you're barely breathing. But you saved my life, Bast only knows why. Don't you know that cats and dogs are supposed to be enemies? She began to wash her face quickly. The only good thing about her impromptu dip in the lake was that her fur was now clean of Maverick's dog drool. Still, she'd not mind the great beast licking her now, not after what he'd done.

He needs help, more than I can give him. Or else he'll die here. Drat this blasted rain! If only it would stop. The cat inhaled, gulping in a huge breath of air. Then she exhaled and yowled loud enough to wake the dead in their graves. Filch had once said Mrs. Norris had a meow that could put a lioness to shame. Bast preserve us, but I hope someone hears me. Such a pity humans are so deaf.

She sighed then gathered in another breath.

Another ear piercing yowl rang out. And another.

A mile away, Fang pricked up his ears. Then he barked sharply. Hagrid! Listen! I hear Mrs. Norris. She's calling us! Says she's with Maverick!

Hagrid looked down at his boarhound, who was barking excitedly. "What is it, boy? Do ya smell Maverick? Go find 'im, Fang!"

Fang didn't need any urging from his master. He tore off across the lawn straight for the lake, barking at Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris, I'm coming. And so's Rubeus! Arroow!

Thank goodness! The cat meowed back. I'm half dead from drowning and Maverick's worse than I, the poor furry imbecile, she purred affectionately.

Fang bounded up to them, his tail wagging joyously. What on earth are you two doing going for a swim in this weather, huh?

The cat pinned her ears back and hissed angrily, It wasn't by choice, you overgrown lump of suet! D'you think I'd ever choose to go in water myself?

Fang considered, Uh, no, guess not.

Exactly. I was nearly murdered, but Maverick saved me. Now I have to save him, so we're even.

How are you gonna do that?

I have no idea. But perhaps the humans can help, since they think they're so much better and smarter than us, the cat sniffed.

Speaking of humans, here comes mine! Fang yelped ecstatically, running circles about the pair.

Mrs. Norris wrinkled her whiskers in disgust. And they wonder why cats hate dogs. Honestly, any animal that behaves like a demented wind up mouse ought to be put out of his misery. And to think, humans actually bred his kind. What in Bast's Glory were they thinking?

Hagrid knelt beside the still form of Maverick, gently feeling the dog. Mrs. Norris meowed and leaped up on his shoulder. "Hey, kitty. Don' know why you're out here, but I'll bet it has somethin' t'do with Maverick there. He's in a real bad way. Gotta call Professor Snape."

Then he lifted his voice in a bellow that could have been heard in London. "HEY, PROFESSOR! I FOUND 'IM! DOWN BY THE LAKE!"

Severus whirled around so fast at the sound of Hagrid's deep bass that he almost lost his footing and ended up falling in the mud. Luckily his cat-like reflexes saved him from an embarrassing tumble. "Hurry, Preston! They've found him!" He waved to Hannah, then raced off towards the lake, his wand lighting the way so he didn't lose his way in the dark or trip.

Hannah told her friends later that she'd never seen Snape move so fast in her life. One minute he was standing still and the next he was running like a deer across the grass, moving so quickly she couldn't keep up with him. She followed diligently in his wake, panting and struggling to keep her footing on the slippery grass.

Snape reached the knot of animals and Hagrid in about two minutes, expecting to see his dog waiting for him, tail wagging and brown eyes alight with eagerness, even though his master was displeased with him for the second time in a day.

Instead his breath caught at the sight of a black shape sprawled on the ground, limp and lifeless, Hagrid kneeling beside him. A sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, he threw himself down beside Maverick, lifting the dog's head in his hands.

"Damn it all, Maverick! Wake up!" he shouted, fear making him sound harsher than he meant to.

"Sir, I think he's almost drowned," Hagrid said helpfully.

Behind him, Hannah gasped in horror. It seemed impossible that the dog who had been her first friend at Hogwarts could be taken from her so suddenly, so cruelly. Yet he was lying so very still.

Snape knew in an instant that Hagrid's observation was correct. He put an ear to the dog's muzzle. There was no stirring of air. Damn, he's not breathing! Severus swore fluently. Then he began to press down rhythmically on Maverick's ribcage, thanking God he'd learned rudimentary medical procedures as part of his Potions Mastery. CPR had been invented by a wizard Healer long ago, one who had shared his methods with Muggles. Severus used it now, counting softy while pressing down on the half-drowned dog's ribcage. "One. Two. Three. Four." Then he leaned down and breathed softly into the dog's nose. "Come on, Maverick. Breathe. That's an order, you fool mutt. Breathe!"

He repeated the sequence, and was rewarded with a sudden gush of water from the dog's mouth. He lifted Maverick's head, letting the water dribble out, but the dog was still unresponsive. "Maverick! Please!" he begged, his voice hoarse with more than the results of the amplifying spell. "Take a breath for me. Just one, dammit! Just one!"

He bent over the dog again, breathing into his nose and compressing his chest. Suddenly he felt the dog's ribcage flutter. "Good dog! That's it! Breathe!"

He stroked Maverick's head, tears mixing with the raindrops on his cheeks. The big dog's chest heaved, and he coughed up more water.

But he breathed. Severus pointed his wand and hissed, "Ennervate!" which was the counter to a Stunning Hex, but served to magically bring the dog back from the brink of death, waking him from his unnatural sleep.

Maverick opened his eyes. His chest felt terribly achy and heavy, as if someone had been beating him with a baseball bat in the ribs, and his breath rasped in his throat in a terrible rattle. But he could smell his beloved master, and feel the Potions Master's familiar hand petting him. He whimpered, and his tongue crept out to lick Snape's hand. Sev . . .you came . . .I knew you'd find me . . .Then his head drooped and he passed out, too tired and weak to keep awake.

Severus gathered the poor battered dog into his arms. "We need to get him inside, Hagrid. He's very weak and he's freezing to death."

"He's not gonna die, is he, Professor Snape?" Hannah sobbed.

"Not if I can help it, child," said Severus determinedly. "Come on, let's go back to your cottage, Hagrid, it's closer."

Hagrid nodded, then bent down to examine an odd patch of ground near where Maverick had been lying. To his surprise he picked up a large burlap sack. "Huh? Now how'd this get here?" Shrugging, he tucked it under one arm and followed the tall figure of the professor. Time enough to worry about that later.

Once inside Hagrid's hut, Snape busied himself with gathering a quilt from the man's bed and laying it on the floor. He quickly spoke a drying charm over Maverick, drying the big dog's fur in an instant. Then he laid the comatose animal on the heavy patchwork quilt and wrapped him snugly inside it. He carried the dog and quilt over beside the hearth, causing the flames to leap up with another wave of his wand.

The fire blazing merrily, he set Maverick in front of it, hoping the heat might revive him somewhat. The dog's breathing was still frail and raspy, Severus feared his lungs had been damaged by his near drowning. He touched Maverick's nose, it was hot and dry, not a good sign.

He felt utterly helpless, for there was very little he could do for a sick dog. All of his potions were made for human consumption, not animal. The Decongestion Draft which worked such wonders on pneumonia in people contained herbs that were fatal to dogs and the Pepper Up potion was also. He seated himself next to the dog and cradled his head in his lap, stroking the pricked ears and head over and over.

"There's my good boy. Maverick. Don't give up, you hear me?" His hand rubbed the dog's ears, in the special spot that made Maverick quiver all over. "Good boy. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

That last was whispered so softly that only a dog would have heard it. But Severus said it nevertheless, his guilt compelling him to apologize to his faithful dog, and he knew that somehow Maverick heard him, for the big black dog's tail twitched, as if in answer.

Hagrid returned, filling the cottage with his presence. Hannah was a slim shadow in his wake, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Severus glanced up when they entered, his face drawn and grim. He felt like crying himself, though he would never admit it.

"How is he, sir?" Hannah asked softly.

"Not good, I'm afraid. He's very sick. I think he's got a fever and he's in shock. Hagrid, do you know of any Animal Healers hereabouts? I need one right away, my potions can't cure this."

Hagrid thought for a moment. "Yeah, Professor Snape, I do know of one. Dr. Peabody. He's a known Magical Creatures vet. Cured my dog Fluffy when he caught a cold last winter. I'm sure he can fix up yer Maverick in a blink, sir."

"Go and fetch him for me, won't you?" Severus requested. "Tell him it's a matter of life and death. You have Floo Powder, don't you?"

"'Course, sir." Hagrid cupped a handful in one massive palm, then tossed it down into the fireplace. "Dr. Peabody's office," he said loudly. Then he stepped over the unconscious dog and his master and vanished in a swirl of green flame.

"Now what, sir? Is there anything I can do to help?" queried Hannah, anxious to be doing something besides staring at the unusual sight of her potions professor sitting on the floor hugging Maverick's head in his lap.

"You can make up a pot of tea, Miss Preston. I think we could both use some. And see if Hagrid has any beef stock about to make some broth. If I can get some into him, it might help warm him up," Severus told her.

Hannah obeyed, putting the kettle on to boil over the cast iron stove and hunting among the gamekeeper's stores for a tin of beef powder. She soon found a large cannister and poured some into a bowl. Then she waited for the water to boil, shoving tea bags into two chipped earthenware mugs as well.

Suddenly, Mrs. Norris twined about her ankles, purring raggedly. Hannah bent to stroke the cat, noting that she was wet. "Poor kitty. Let's dry you, shall we?" She took her wand out and spoke a drying charm.

Soon Mrs. Norris's fur was dry and sticking up everywhere. The sight made Hannah smile, for the cat looked as if she'd stuck her tail in an electrical socket. The cat immediately sat down and began to groom herself, trying to get her fur to lie flat.

"What's Mrs. Norris doing here?" asked Snape. "I thought she never left the castle."

Hannah shrugged. "I don't know. Hagrid found her by Maverick down by the lake. He said that's how he knew where to go, he heard her meowing."

The Potions Master eyed the tortoiseshell thoughtfully. "There's a story behind that, I'm sure. Too bad they can't talk." Then he returned his attention to his ill dog, rubbing his throat and speaking softly to him. Maverick was still shivering, even through the quilt and the heat of the fire. He prayed that Hagrid would return soon with Dr. Peabody.

Hannah busied herself with fixing the tea and stirring the water and beef stock together. She let the broth sit for a minute, then turned to her teacher and said, "How do you take your tea, sir?"

"Milk and two teaspoons of sugar," answered Snape, listening to Maverick's breathing intently. It was fast and too raspy. "Is that broth done yet, Preston?"

"Right here, sir," Hannah handed him the bowl and a spoon. She had never seen Snape look so utterly weary, he was usually so in control and so neat with regards to his clothes. Yet now he was wrinkled and his hair was plastered to his head, hanging in his face, and in his eyes was exhaustion and fear. She dared to lay a hand on his shoulder for a bare instant and whisper, "He'll get well. He has to, sir."

"I wish Hagrid would hurry up with that bloody doctor," he grumbled, taking the bowl and spoon from her. "What part of emergency doesn't he understand?"

He gently tilted Maverick's head up and began to spoon the broth into the dog's mouth, recalling doing something similar when he'd first rescued the stray from three delinquent boys who'd been torturing him. But unlike then, this time the dog could barely swallow. Severus stroked his throat until the dog swallowed.

Then he repeated the same slow process patiently.

Hannah watched, then said, "Sure wish we had a medicine dropper, it'd be ten times easier than a spoon."

"You're right," agreed Snape, familiar with Muggle instruments as well as Hannah, for he too had been raised by a Muggle. Then he had another idea. "Hannah, find me a straw, or a piece of hay."

The girl looked puzzled, but did as she was told, finding a long bendable straw in Hagrid's kitchen drawer, he plainly didn't know what it was, but he'd saved it as a curiosity, intending to show it to Dumbledore one day and ask what it was used for. "Here, sir. But what are you going to do with it?"

"This," he answered, and put one end of the straw into the broth and closed his finger over the other end. "I saw that once on a TV show when I was a boy," he explained and gently inserted the broth-filled straw inbetween Maverick's teeth. "Now that's much better." He carefully fed the dog the broth by releasing his finger and letting it flow gently down Maverick's throat.

Hannah grinned. "That's really clever, sir."

Snape snorted, amused. "Sometimes Muggles have good ideas, yes, Miss Preston?"

"Very good ideas," she agreed.

He continued giving Maverick the broth with the straw, cursing the Animal Healer roundly in his head. When he saw the man he was going to give him a good piece of his mind about moving his ass when summoned to an emergency. Just then the fire turned green and Hagrid emerged from it, stepping quickly over Snape and Maverick.

"Where's the bloody Healer?" Severus growled.

Hagrid gulped, then met the other's eyes bravely. "Uh, well, sir . . .it's like this . . .he ain't coming . . ."

"Excuse me?" Snape repeated in a deadly soft tone. "Did I hear right? He won't come?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape's hand clenched and a vein stood out in his forehead. "Why the bloody Goddamn hell not?" he shouted.

"He says . . .I tol' him Maverick was half-drowned and real sick, but he jus' looked at me and he said . . ." Hagrid hung his head. " . . .I don't treat mundane creatures, only magical ones. That's my field, magical creatures, not mere dogs, cats, and whatnot. But sir, I says, it's for Professor Snape, it's his dog that's sick an' could die . . .and all he says is if yer teachers will insist on keeping ordinary animals as pets, they must see to their own care. Call a Muggle vet and don't bother me again. Then he goes back inside his house and shuts the door in my face," Hagrid reported angrily. "I thought about breakin' it down, but then supposed it wouldn't do no good, an' I came back."

Snape looked like he was about to explode. "How dare he? What kind of Animal Healer does he call himself, refusing to treat an animal in need because he's only a dog. Maverick's not just any dog, he's my dog. And he's worth a hundred of any magical dog any day of the week! Miserable arrogant holier-than-thou bastard!" The professor was literally shaking with rage. Hannah shrank back into a corner, terrified by his wild glaring eyes. "Fine! Who needs him? I'll heal Maverick by myself and to bloody blazes with all the damn Animal Healers! Arrogant asses, they all ought to be hexed into oblivion!"

"Ahem!" came a voice from out of the fireplace. "Please don't judge all of us by the terrible example of my colleague."

Severus looked up to see a rather skinny man in brown pants and a white collared shirt with a brown cloak tossed casually over his shoulder standing in the middle of the fireplace amidst green flames. The man looked to be about twenty-five, only a little older than the Potions Master, with sandy hair and bright brown eyes. He held a black satchel in his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" snarled Severus.

"Dr. Heathcliff Herriot, at your service. I'm Dr. Peabody's junior partner. I hear you have a sick dog."

"What of it? I suppose you're going to spout the same idiocy your partner–" Snape sneered the word. "–subscribes to and tell me you don't treat ordinary animals."

"Not at all, sir. I was raised in an old school, and believe in the old saying, all creatures great and small, the Lord God made and loves them all," answered Dr. Herriot. "And if that's good enough for the Lord, it's good enough for me too. May I?"

And with that he stepped out of the fireplace to crouch upon the hearth and unwrap the blanket. He waved his wand once about Maverick's sleeping form and laid a hand on his side. "Ah. A touch of pneumonia, and badly chilled from being in the water too long. Stage two shock, I'd say and a fever too. This dog must have wanted something pretty badly to go swimming during a storm, I'd say." he cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Snape. "Are you his master?"

"I am. Severus Snape, Potions Master. But I've no idea why he'd be swimming in the lake at all. His name's Maverick, by the way."

"Maverick. Well, let's see what I can do about making you feel better, old fellow." Herriot said, and opened his black satchel.

Within five minutes, the vet had administered three potions to the dog, using the straw the same way Severus had, once Snape had shown him how to use it. He thought it a novel idea and thanked the professor for the tip. "Makes getting potions down a reluctant animal's throat so much easier. Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Necessity is the mother of invention," Severus quoted softly, sharing a secret smile with Hannah.

"Hmmm . . .yes, indeed," Dr. Herriot agreed. He gave Severus two more vials of a green potion and a red one as well as a small jar of white powder. "Give him the fever reducer again when he wakes up, that's this red one here. And then mix half a spoonful of this white powder here with a tablespoonful of the green Breath-Ease Solution. That'll take care of the congestion in his lungs. Do that twice a day until they're gone. Keep him warm and dry and don't let him run around for a week. Oh, and if he seems reluctant to eat solid food, that's probably because his throat's sore, so give him a tablespoonful of honey and some soft food."

"Ground beef and cheese with an egg."

"Exactly. He should be his old self in no time, Professor Snape. If you need anything or have any questions for me, don't hesitate to call. That's some dog you've got there. Not many dogs would have survived a swim in a freezing cold lake that way." He patted Maverick admiringly. "Sometimes that mixed breed strain gives them a phenomenal constitution. If he'd been one of those hothouse pedigreed breeds, he probably wouldn't have made it."

Severus smiled thinly. "So you're saying that being a mere mutt saved his life, doctor?"

Herriot nodded. "Yes, that's about right. Never underestimate a mongrel. They're tougher than dragonhide. I'd take a good old-fashioned mutt over a fancy poodle any day." he chuckled. "Gives my partner fits, the pompous ass." He shook hands with Snape, then departed back through the Floo Network.

Severus placed the potions and the powder where he could get them easily, which was on the table, then drank the tea Hannah had made before saying, "I don't think it's wise to disturb him tonight, so I'm going to stay here with him, if you don't mind, Hagrid?"

"Nah, ya can stay long as yeh like, sir," Hagrid said, seeming pleased about having guests. He looked at Hannah who was yawning and rubbing her eyes, trying desperately to stay awake. "Mebbe you better stay too, Hannah."

"Yes, it's too late for you to return to your dormitory, Miss Preston," Snape agreed. "I'll transfigure us some beds and night clothes."

With that, Severus pointed his wand and flicked it lazily, the gesture so precise and practiced that it made Hannah sigh wistfully, wondering if she'd ever be that good. Two of Hagrid's kitchen chairs promptly became large goosedown mattresses, complete with a thick soft blanket and a pillow apiece. He gave a satisfied nod, then beckoned to Hannah.

"This will only take a second, miss, and then you can go to sleep." Once more he pointed and waved. Before Hannah could blink, her school skirt and blouse had been changed into a soft flannel nightgown. It felt warm and cozy and on her feet were comfy blue socks.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, now get under the covers, it's way past your bedtime."

Stifling a giggle, for he reminded her oddly enough of her father, she did as her professor had said. She really was tired yet her nerves were still keyed up a bit. She yawned again and thought about how glad she was that Maverick was going to be okay and how sleeping here was a bit like camping out in her backyard, which her father used to do with her all the time when she was little.

Severus pointed his wand at himself and his familiar black robes became, of all things, a pair of loose black sweatpants and an overlarge gray T-shirt with the saying Potion Masters Do It Better on the front of it above a stylized cauldron. He removed his boots, leaving only his socks.

Hannah couldn't resist commenting, "Do what better, sir?"

"Everything," he said, and gave her a rare smile. The shirt had been a gift from Dumbledore to settle an argument he'd had once with McGonagall on what was the more difficult subject to teach–Potions or Transfiguration. Albus, being a diplomat, had also given her a similar one. Then he shot the child a pretend glare and said, "Sleep, Miss Preston. You need to get up early for class tomorrow."

"Good night, Professor Snape," she murmured and her eyes closed slowly.

He checked on Maverick once more before going to bed himself, for he also needed to wake up early to teach tomorrow. Before long all the occupants of the cottage were snoozing peacefully while outside the storm raged until it blew itself out.

Dawn had just touched the horizon when Maverick awoke and found Mrs. Norris curled up beside him. He cocked an ear at the strange sight, then rose stiffly, wincing as all his muscles protested. He still felt achy and sore all over, but he needed to go out.

It was only then he noticed he wasn't inside Snape quarters, but Hagrid's cottage. He couldn't recall how he'd ended up here, but it really didn't matter. He padded three steps over to where the Potions Master was sleeping and licked Severus's face, whining softly. Sev, wake up. I need to go, and I can't open the door.

Severus stirred, then opened his eyes to see a familiar furry face hovering over him. He smiled in delight. "Hello, boy. Feeling better, I see." He sat up, one hand moving to stroke the dog's head.

Maverick's tail wagged, then he looked at the door pointedly. Sev, hurry!

The Potions Master rose, he knew that look, and opened the door of the cottage to let the dog outside. He leaned on the doorjamb, noting that Maverick moved slowly, without any of his usual bounce. Probably sore as hell, he mused. What on earth possessed him to jump in the lake?

He supposed it was a mystery he would never figure out, since the dog couldn't talk to him.

Maverick finished his business and trotted back inside, favoring his right shoulder slightly, he'd pulled a muscle there. He figured he would beg breakfast off of Severus and then maybe take another nap in front of the fire, he still was feeling weak and tired from his ordeal. Instead, he got two nasty tasting potions dribbled down his throat with a plastic straw by Severus, who told him sternly, "Take your medicine like a good dog, Maverick, and don't give me a hard time." just before he gently opened the shepherd-collie's jaws and inserted the straw behind his back teeth.

Maverick shook his head at the dreadful taste, but Severus held his mouth shut so he couldn't spit it out and was forced to swallow it.

Ugh! That was disgusting, Sev! It tasted like sour cherries or worse. Gross! The dog whined.

"I know you hate it, but too bad. It's the only way you're going to get well," his master said, scratching behind his ears.

I think I'd rather be sick. My tongue feels like it's been coated in the stuff. Yuck! He worked his mouth frantically, trying to rid it of the lingering taste of the potions.

"Relax. Here, have some honey, it's good for your throat," Severus offered him a tablespoon of sweet clover honey, which Maverick smelled, then ate in one lick.

Mmm! Much better! More, Sev? Please? Please? He flashed the wizard an imploring look.

"Shameless beggar," Severus mock-scolded. He gave the dog a bowl of water. "I'll fix you some breakfast in a minute."

He turned to rummage in Hagrid's pantry, which was kept well stocked, finding the required ground beef, cheese, and a hard-boiled egg that Herriot had recommended Maverick eat. He mixed everything in a pan along with last night's beef broth and set it to heat upon the stove.

Maverick drooled over the heavenly aroma and even Mrs. Norris awoke and drifted over to twine herself about Snape's ankles, meowing pitifully.

"All right, all right, you two, keep your fur on," the professor sighed. "Anybody would think you give the orders around here."

We do, mewed Mrs. Norris. You simply don't know it yet. Humans were born to serve us.

After feeding the animals, Snape decided to make some breakfast for everyone, for though Hagrid tried he'd never mastered cooking, and the professor didn't want to end up with indigestion that morning.

The savory smells of a large bacon and cheese omelet soon awoke Hannah, Hagrid, and Fang. The young Ravenclaw was amazed that her potions professor knew how to cook, she'd assumed all wizards used house elves for such mundane things. Clearly, Snape was an exception in many ways.

They had just finished eating and Severus showed Hannah how to perform a simple Scourgify charm on the dishes when there came a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in!" Hagrid bellowed genially.

The door swung open to admit a rather frazzled looking Argus Filch.

"Dumbledore said ye might know where my cat is, Hagrid. She been missing since last night," Filch began.

A tortoiseshell streak flew out from under the table and leaped into Filch's arms. Argus! Did you miss me? I missed you, Mrs. Norris meowed ecstatically, purring and rubbing her head under the caretaker's chin.

Hannah had never seen Filch crack a smile in her two years at school, she didn't think he knew how, but a smile appeared on his face as he gazed at his beloved cat, the lost that now was found. "Where hast thou been, my fine lady?" he crooned in a broad Yorkshire dialect. "Tha gave me a fright, tha did."

"We found her down by the lake, Argus," Hagrid reported. "She was lyin' next to Maverick here, and they was near drowned, the pair of 'em."

"The lake? In such a storm? But why?" Filch gasped, his eyes bugging out. He clutched the cat so hard she squirmed and hissed, unable to breathe. "Ah, sorry, pet." He set her gently upon his shoulder.

"I found this nearby on the ground." Hagrid picked up the torn burlap sack from under the table and displayed it for all to see.

"A sack!" Filch cried in horror.

"With teeth and claw marks in it," Hannah observed astutely, indicating the long rents from Mrs. Norris and the punctures from Maverick's teeth.

"Ya don't think . . ." Hagrid trailed off, unwilling to state the awful truth.

"Somebody put my cat in a sack and threw her in the lake!" Filch yelled, turning beet red. "Somebody tried to murder Mrs. Norris!"

"And my dog saved her," Severus added, putting it all together. He stroked Maverick, whose head was on his knee. "He nearly lost his own life doing so, but he saved her, Argus."

Filch gaped at the professor like a landed fish. "Well, I never heard the like. A dog rescuing a cat from drowning!"

"That's what he does best," Hannah said, and went over to hug Maverick. "He rescued me last year from bullies and now he's saved Mrs. Norris too. Isn't he a wonderful dog, Mr. Filch?"

"Yes," Filch said dazedly, still trying to comprehend the situation. "I never did like dogs, great smelly things, but I guess I don't mind this one." He put out a tentative hand towards Maverick.

Maverick promptly licked Filch's fingers, wagging his plumed tail, and allowed the caretaker to pet his head. See? Dogs aren't so bad. We're friendlier than cats.

Are not! meowed Mrs. Norris from her perch on Filch's shoulder.

Are too! Maverick woofed. That's why dogs are man's best friend. Then he added slyly, and a certain cat's too, eh?

Mrs. Norris remained silent, unable to come up with a suitable reply to the dog's inescapable logic.

Filch reached up to stroke the cat under the chin. Then he narrowed his eyes and said in a lethal tone, "I want to find the bloody brats that tried to murder my poor cat and make them pay."

"But who would do such an awful thing?" wondered Hannah. "Not even Justin and Charlie are that mean," she said, referring to the two bullies who used to torment her last year.

Snape could think of two kids right off the bat that were nasty enough to have done something like that, and unfortunately both of them were in his House.

"They need to be found," Filch ranted. "I want to see some punishment, Professor!"

"Now, calm down, Argus," soothed Hagrid, patting the slender man on the back and nearly knocking him down."Yuh know what Poppy said 'bout yer blood pressure."

Filch sneered. "Bugger that, Hagrid. How can I be calm when Mrs. Norris was almost murdered? Not to mention Severus's dog. They oughta be hung up by their thumbs."

"We will determine an appropriate punishment for them, Argus, if and when we catch them," Severus assured him grimly. For once he agreed with Filch's somewhat barbaric methods of discipline. Those miscreants deserved the worst he could mete out, after what had almost happened to his beloved dog.

"How do you know it was more than one kid, sir?" Hannah queried.

"Because, Miss Preston, it would take two of them to shove Mrs. Norris inside the sack," Severus surmised. "She may be small but I'd wager she wouldn't go without a fight."

"I'd say not! She's a real scrapper, she is!" Filch declared proudly. "Can fight like a Bengal tigress."

Snape peered at the cat, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "That being so, we can locate the guilty students by examining their hands and arms for cat scratches."

"Because she'd have marked them, right?" Hannah stated.

"Most assuredly." Snape nodded. He gave Hannah a searching look. Then he said, "It's almost time for you to get ready for class, young lady. However, what would you say to playing detective along with your schoolwork for today? Keep a lookout in your classes for any students sporting unusual bandages about their hands or behaving oddly. If you spot someone, don't confront them, come and tell me, and I'll handle it from there. Think you can do that, Preston?"

Hannah nodded, her eyes shining. "Yes, sir. I'll be like Sherlock Holmes," she told him, knowing he would understand the reference, even if Filch and Hagrid didn't. "You can count on me, Professor Snape."

He favored her with a look of rare approval and she basked in his regard, for Snape was difficult to impress. "I'll look for any signs in my own classes and Filch can scan any students in the hallways for any suspicious behavior. Oh, and I'd keep Mrs. Norris out of sight for the time being, since we want whoever did this to think their little prank succeeded for now."

Filch nodded and said he'd keep the cat in his rooms. Hagrid spoke up then. "I wanta help too, Professor. 'Tisn't right, what they done to a defenseless critter like that. Cruel and wicked, is all and they deserve t'be punished right enough. I'll keep an eye on the students outside, see if any of 'em are braggin' or whatnot."

The four amateur detectives exchanged identical grins before separating to go to their respective jobs and classes for the day. Before they did so, Severus transfigured Hannah's nightgown back into her school clothes and did likewise for himself. Then he whistled softly for Maverick, and the dog rose and came to walk beside him as they headed back to the castle.

All through that long morning and afternoon, Hannah kept a close eye on her fellow classmates, trying to see if any of them were hiding injuries to their hands or arms. But thus far, no one seemed hurt or anything. She was beginning to get discouraged, and hoped that the others were having better luck than she was, when she headed out to the greenhouse for Herbology, one of her favorite classes. She waited along with the other members of her House for the current class of fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors to finish up their lesson.

She shifted from foot to foot impatiently and peered inside the windows of the greenhouse. "Aren't they done yet?" she said aloud in case anyone wondered what she was doing.

She quickly scanned the rows of students working at the long tables, cutting some kind of leafy blue-veined plant. None of them were wearing gloves today, so she could see their hands quite clearly.

It was then that she saw two Slytherins, one a rather tall handsome blond boy and his tablemate, a husky red-head, reaching for a pair of shears. Their hands and arms were crisscrossed with red marks . . .marks that could have come from a cat's claws. They looked red and angry, as if they'd been made recently. Such as last night.

Hannah smirked. I think I've found our two cat killers. Now I need to tell Professor Snape. She whirled to run back towards the castle.

"Hey Hannah! Where're you going?" called Marybeth, one of her friends.

"I left a book in Professor Snape's classroom," she yelled over her shoulder. "Tell Professor Sprout I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" Then she sprinted across the lawn, running as quickly as she could to the dungeons.

Once Hannah had relayed her suspicions to Snape, he told her to get back to Herbology before she was late for class. "If those two are who I think they are, then you've found our culprits, Miss Preston. Good work. I'll deal with it from here. Now go, before you're late."

Reluctantly, Hannah went. "But sir, how will I know if they were the right ones? I mean, I don't think I'm wrong, but . . ."

"Believe me, Preston, you'll know," Severus said softly, and his dark eyes glittered savagely. "Now hurry, child, before you get detention from Professor Sprout."

Hannah went, getting to the greenhouse just as the other class was leaving. As she entered the greenhouse, she shot another look at the two Slytherins with the scratched hands. Up close, they looked even worse, deep and unmistakably those of an animal.

Hiding a grin, Hannah slipped inside, thinking, I was right and you two better pray to God and all His angels for Snape to have mercy on you, for Filch sure as blazes won't. And serves you right too, you wicked beasts!

Gerald Crouch and Tom Thatcher had been congratulating themselves upon pulling off the greatest prank ever on Filch, as well as the cruelest. "Wonder how long it'll take the old bugger to realize his precious wittle kitty is dead and gone?" snickered Crouch behind his hand.

"I'll bet he keeps searching for her for years, the old arse!" Tom laughed. "But he'll never find her. The Black Lake never surrenders its offerings. And we offered her up all right, the mangy puss!"

Gerald gave his mate a high five, smirking cruelly. That would teach the old fart to mess with them, the pathetic Squib. "Let's cut Transfiguration and go hang out by the Forbidden Forest," he suggested. "I don't feel like listening to the old witch today."

"Me neither," agreed Tom, and the two slipped away from the knot of students to sneak down the path past Hagrid's cottage that led to the Forbidden Forest.

Unknown to them, they were being shadowed by Filch and Snape, who motioned for the caretaker to stay just behind them, holding his cat under his cloak, while the Potions Master slipped ahead of them using a little known shortcut, Maverick pacing him. Snape motioned for the dog to sit and stay as the boys approached, for he knew there was bad blood between them and he did not want Maverick to scare them off.

Maverick sat, but his fur was bristling. Grrr! I wish Sev would let me bite them, the nasty evil brutes! I 'd love to take a chunk out of their rumps. Normally, he never would have considered biting anyone, but these two . . .they were evil incarnate and he loathed them more than he did a bath and disgusting medicine.

As Hannah had reported, the two did indeed have scratches and bite marks all over their hands and wrists. Snape's lips thinned to a mere slash and he stepped out from the peach tree that overgrew the path in one lightning quick movement, appearing before the two truant students like a ghost.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?" his voice was silky smooth, with just a hint of ice.

Crouch and Thatcher froze, looking very much like rabbits caught in a hunter's snare.

"Uh . . .Professor Snape! We were going to get a book Tom here left near Hagrid's cottage," Gerald improvised swiftly, lying with practiced ease. "We were studying near there and the dunderhead forgot it," he cast his friend a sneering glance.

"Oh, really?" Snape wasn't buying it. "And what book would that be, Mr. Thatcher?"

Tom gulped. "Uh . . .it's . . .um . . .my Divination, no my Herbology textbook, sir," he stammered, growing red.

"Well, which is it?"

"Herbology, sir," Thatcher said. "I was trying to, uh, match the plants we were studying with their real life counterparts."

"I see. An interesting technique, Mr. Thatcher." Snape purred, reeling them in like a fish on a hook. "I suppose you lost House points for not having your book today in Professor Sprout's lesson then?" He scowled angrily, and Thatcher flinched.

"N-No, sir! Professor Sprout didn't take any points from Slytherin today, I swear!" Then he yelped when Gerald stepped on his foot.

"She didn't? Most odd, for I'd think she'd deduct points for your carelessness with an expensive text like that." Severus drawled, still playing them. "I most certainly would've, and while Sprout might be lenient, she's not that lenient." He eyed them sternly.

"Uh, she was in a good mood today," Tom said hastily.

"But she promised next time she'd take fifty points, sir, so if you'll excuse us . . ." Gerald said hastily, trying to make a break for it.

But Severus was done playing. Now he pounced. "I haven't dismissed you two yet. Stay where you are," he snapped, and the two halted, uneasy glances flickering across their faces. "I didn't see either of you in the common room last night before curfew. Where were you? And what happened to your hands? Looks like you tangled with an angry animal."

"We, uh, were . . .doing some studying," said Gerald, while at the same time Tom blurted, "We went for a walk, we were bored, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "A walk and studying at the same time? Didn't know you could do both together, Crouch. Did that walk involve going down by the lake for a little swim, gentlemen?"

"Sir? Why would we do that?" bluffed Gerald, looking totally innocent.

"I don't know. Then again, I can't fathom why the two of you would want to walk outside in the middle of a storm either, so perhaps you could explain it to me?"

"It wasn't raining then," Tom said, trying to cover his mistake.

"And your hands? Where did you come by those scratches?" Snape demanded sharply.

"These?" Gerald pretended innocence. "They're nothing but rose scratches, sir. We were looking for an herb and Tom tripped and we both fell into the rose bushes."

Snape's hand darted out and grabbed Crouch's wrist. "These don't look like cuts from thorns, Mr. Crouch. They're deeper and longer, too deep to be made by a plant. If I had to guess I'd say they were made by a cat."

"A cat? Oh no, sir. There's no cat mean enough to scratch a student," Gerald babbled, his eyes wide.

"Yeah there is! Filch's mangy kit would've done it quick as blinking," put in Tom, then gasped.

Severus smiled wolfishly. "Speaking of Mrs. Norris, have either of you seen her this morning? Mr. Filch is concerned about her whereabouts."

"Why, sir? Is she missing?" asked Gerald, false concern in his voice.

"You could say that, lads," Filch said, stepping into view at last at Snape's unseen signal. "Last I saw her she was near the Great Hall. Can't figure out where she's got to."

"Don't have a clue," shrugged Crouch. "Who knows where cats go?"

"Yeah, who knows?" echoed Tom. He was chewing his lower lip nervously.

It was then that Mrs. Norris showed herself, walking sedately out from behind a rose bush to stand before them. Her fur was standing on end and she growled furiously at her would-be murderers.

Tom screamed. "Ahhh! Gerry, run! She's come back to haunt us!" he turned to bolt back up the path, but Snape reached out and snatched him back by the collar.

"Why so scared, Mr. Thatcher?"

"It . . .she's dead . . .and her ghost's returned . . .!"

"Shut up, you imbecile!" snarled Gerald. "I don't know what's gotten into him, sir. I think he's gone barmy . . . the pressure . . .Tom, you idiot! Of course Mrs. Norris isn't dead."

"She is! And now she's come for us!" Thatcher's face was pale and sweating.

"No, she's not, dumbass! A cat doesn't die from getting wet," Gerald cried, trying to salvage the situation.

"How did ye know she was wet?" Filch demanded. "I never said nothing bout her being out in the rain, now did I?"

"Uh . . ." Gerald scrambled for something to say.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Severus interrupted him before he could say anything else. "You know that Mrs. Norris got wet because you two grabbed her and stuffed her in a sack and tossed her in the lake, but not before she managed to give you two some good scratches. That's where you got hurt, not from some phantom rose bush, is that not so, Mr. Crouch?" he gave Gerald a raptor's piercing stare. The boy remained mute. Severus itched to use Veritaserum on the wicked brat. "And that's why Thatcher here is falling to pieces, because he thought the cat was dead and your misdeed covered up for good and all. Right, boy?" and he shook the quivering Tom sharply.

"Yes! Yes! We did it, sir!" wailed Tom, cracking under Snape's omniscient glower.

"Tom, you stupid bugger!" screeched Gerald. "It was just a prank, sir! We never meant it to go that far . . ."

"Enough of your lies, Crouch!" growled Snape. "You lie better than a lawyer, but you can't fool me, boy! You're caught red-handed," he indicated the boy's scratched hands. "Your friend let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, and now you're going to have to pay the piper."

Filch was rubbing his hands greedily.

"You two have a month's worth of detention with Mr. Filch for attempting to kill Mrs. Norris. And I'm deducting fifty points from Slytherin as well for your disgraceful attempt to lie to me, your Head of House," Severus growled.

"WHAT?" Gerald cried. "But Professor Snape . . .you can't do that!"

"I just did. You are to report to Mr. Filch at six o'clock this evening and do whatever he tells you. If you give him any trouble, gentlemen, I'll extend your detention for another month. Oh, and you're also going to write I will never lie to a professor again five hundred times for me and I'll be informing your parents, Mr. Thatcher, and your Uncle Bartemius, Mr. Crouch, of your latest so-called prank!"

That threat made Gerald go fishbelly white. "No, sir, please! Don't tell Uncle Barty. Please!"

"Why ever not? I think he ought to know how his nephew's little joke nearly cost the life of an innocent cat and my dog Maverick as well, since he nearly died saving her." Severus hissed. "Maybe this will teach you a good lesson, children, about respecting animals. Now go back to the castle, and don't let me see your faces again unless it's in my class or the common room. Move!" he released Tom, giving him a none-too-gentle shove back up the path.

Filch was already muttering gleefully about the humiliations he was going to heap upon them, like scrubbing all the toilets with a toothbrush five times and licking the floor clean.

But Snape was not quite done with the two yet. He stalked after them, wanting to see if their impending punishment had elicited any shred of remorse or regret as well as making sure they went back to class.

He heard Gerald muttering furiously, "Should have poisoned the bloody cat, like I told you, Tom! Then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"How was I t'know they'd catch on so quick?" whined Thatcher. "It's all that damn dog's fault. We should've burned it to death that night, then it couldn't have saved Filch's stupid cat. I should've bashed in its head with a rock . . ."

Snape's blood boiled. He'd done practically the worst he could do as a teacher and still they had not learned their lesson. His eye was caught by the trailing branches of the peach tree, which the two were walking under. Perhaps a more pointed lesson would suffice.

He drew his wand and gestured quickly.

The peach tree suddenly came alive, its branches slithering and cracking. Gerald and Tom shrieked as the branches walloped their bottoms, delivering ten stinging stripes apiece to them, one for each animal and person they'd harmed and distressed with their cruel prank and four more for remembrance.

"Run!" whimpered Gerald. "Even the damn tree hates us!"

The two fled, sniffling and bawling, and Snape watched them go with a satisfied smirk. Perhaps now you'll learn to mend your ways, gentlemen, though I doubt even a sore bottom will erase that wicked streak within you, more's the pity.

He sighed and resolved to watch the pair like a hawk, for they had the makings of future Death Eaters if anyone did.

Ha! That'll teach them, Sev! Maverick whuffed in satisfaction, for he had seen what his master had done.

Run, cowards! yowled Mrs. Norris. And thank your lucky stars this isn't ancient Egypt, where brats like you would have been killed for harming a cat.

Killed? Oh, come on, Mrs. N. You can't be serious. Maverick cocked an ear at her skeptically.

Oh, but I am. They worshipped us as gods back then and to kill or intentionally harm a cat meant you paid the ultimate penalty. Those Egyptians knew a cat's real worth. They knew quality when they saw it and treated us like royalty as is only proper, the tortoiseshell preened, licking herself daintily.

Please! Don't start that again! You're making me sick, groaned the dog.

Why? Can't handle the truth, dog breath?

The truth is you're a conceited selfish garbage picker, and the only thing you rule is your human, who's too senile to know better.

At least I don't abase myself at Snape's feet, you bootlicker.

No, you just act like you've got a stick up your tail.

Slobbering mongrel!

Haughty twit! I save your life and do I get so much as a thank you? Of course not.

Why should I thank you for doing what comes naturally, O Protector of Hogwarts?

Why you–! Maverick barked angrily, then lunged after the insolent feline.

Mrs. Norris, no fool, bolted for the safety of the trees, and twitched her whiskers at the black dog mockingly.

Maverick glowered up at her. I don't know why I rescued you, you smug hairball.

I do. Because you, like your master, are drawn to protect the helpless and the abused, so they never suffer the same fate as yourselves. Am I not right, Maverick?

Maybe, the dog admitted grudgingly.

Mrs. Norris purred in satisfaction. Things were back to normal again, thank Bast the Eternal. And one stubborn courageous black-and-tan mongrel.