Chapter 2
"Snivellus!" "Oh, go away..." "Come on, mate!" Snape flinched at the hand on his shoulder. He looked out the corner of his eye and caught a flash of long, dark hair. Sirius Black. At least it wasn't James. "Where's Potter?" Severus said, shaking the hand off. Sirius fell into step with him, his easy strides easily matching Severus' gait. It was snowing, heavily, and both of the lonely figures crossing the empty Hogwarts grounds were swathed in their heavy fifth year cloaks, though Severus' had a few more burn holes. The snow was almost knee high, but both Sirius and Severus were used to the heavy snows which came with the Christmas holidays. "James?" said Sirius as they neared the Forbidden Forest, "Oh, probably trying to get Lily to forgive him for another thing." "That's nice," replied Severus, "Now, go away." But instead of the sickeningly friendly come back that was expected, Sirius slapped Severus on the shoulder and said, "Alright. See you later!" But he didn't walk away; Severus did, heading for the Quidditch Pitch. When he was but a dwindling black figure in a whirl of snow, Sirius frowned deeply and motioned to something over his shoulder, still staring intently at Severus' figure. Out of the shelter of the groundskeepers hut came four figures. In the lead came Madame Pomfrey, followed by Remus, who was stooped slightly, then came James, the only one with his hood down, his hand resting on Remus' shoulder. Last came Peter, carrying a backpack which always contained the same things: food, water, first aid kit, their wands and a few other things to keep them occupied until it happened. Once Peter passed, Sirius looked warily around and followed the silent band of people, Madame Pomfrey still striding along in front. "Who was that?" whispered Peter. "Snape," replied Sirius, pulling his hood closer as a wind threatened to reveal them to prying eyes, "Had to get rid of him, you know what he's like, the bloody git." Peter grinned but it disappeared as the whooshing and groaning of the Whomping Willow came into view. Madame Pomfrey picked up a long stick, slid it through the branches and placed it on a bulging knot near a hole at the base of the tree. The limbs froze and Madame Pomfrey ushered Remus through, handing him the backpack. He gave his friends the thumbs up, then was gone through the hole. Madame Pomfrey heaved a sigh, then let go of the stick she was holding. "That boy is very brave," she said, looking sad, "He is very lucky to have friends like you. Come on then, back to the castle." She began to move off. "Madame Pomfrey?" said Sirius in his nicest tone. "Yes dear?" "Well, James and I have Quidditch practice." "And I'm going to watch," piped up Peter. Madame Pomfrey looked worried, but then shrugged. "Well, if you must go...but don't wander off afterwards, do you understand? Come straight back to the castle!" "We will," lied Sirius, flashing his toothy grin. Madame Pomfrey smiled and looked up at the moon. It was full and illuminated her face. It was creased with worry. She shook her head, and went back to the castle. James' face fell as he turned to pick up the stick. "Do you really think this is safe James?" squeaked Peter as the tree limbs froze again. "He's our mate, Pete," growled Sirius, pushing Peter through the hole and jumping in after him. "Yes, but won't he be angry at us?" whispered Peter as they crouched along the tunnel. No one answered. No one had thought that Remus might be angry with them for spying on him. They had known for some time that he was a werewolf, and when they found out, they (well, James and Sirius anyway) sort of felt left out of some adventure that Remus was having. But it was more the sense of a challenge and danger that drove them to the library, to study for hours and hours without Remus' knowing and to finally get what they wanted. It was...very satisfying. "Can't we do it now James?" asked Sirius, rubbing a bump on his head. "No, Remus won't have transformed yet. He's on the edge as it is, mate," replied James. They walked on in silence, the occasional yelps and chuckles piercing the quiet. Then James, who was in the lead, said, "Dead end. This must be it." There was a grunt of effort as James heaved at the ceiling with his hands. There was a shower of dirt, and then faint moonlight flooded in. James lifted himself through, stuck a hand down, helped Peter up then shuffled back as Sirius swung him through. The room they were in was in tatters. The wall paper, though it was already mouldy, was torn in places, and the little furniture in the room was smashed. Sirius sniffed and almost sneezed, but caught himself and whispered, "Doesn't this look familiar?" James pointed to the one window of the room. It was grimy, but had a small pane missing from it. Outside, it was snowing, and down the hill, were the numerous lights of Hogsmeade. "This is the Shrieking Shack," hissed Peter fearfully, stumbling backwards. James' hand shot out to steady his friend, but missed, and Peter fell onto a sofa, which splintered and shattered under his weight. The sound reverberated throughout the house and in the three's bones. When all was quiet once more, Sirius and James lifted Peter from the debris without much noise. "Are you alright, Pete?" whispered James. Peter nodded, hanging his head. James closed the trap door they had come through and it disappeared through the dust once more. "Be careful, Sirius!" breathed Peter as Sirius poked his head in a cupboard, "This place has violent ghosts!" Sirius snorted. "Haven't you figured it out yet?" he said wiping of a smear of dust on his nose, "It was Remus who did all this and howled in the night." "Oh..." "What was that?" said James suddenly, freezing on his inspection of a vase. Everyone went still. From above their heads, came a faint scuffling. It rose to a scraping. Then, an ear piercing scream split through the eerie silence. The scream went on, until it became deeper, more feral. Then abruptly it stopped. Four footfalls could be heard, crossing the room, the creak of a worn threshold. Everyone's eyes went to the deep, dark doorway. Hearts thudded against Adams apples. Heavy, laboured breathing came closer, the scrape of long claws on wood and carpet. "Now!" came a voice. The breathing neared. Two amber eyes observed where three boys had been, but were no more...
"Snivellus!" "Oh, go away..." "Come on, mate!" Snape flinched at the hand on his shoulder. He looked out the corner of his eye and caught a flash of long, dark hair. Sirius Black. At least it wasn't James. "Where's Potter?" Severus said, shaking the hand off. Sirius fell into step with him, his easy strides easily matching Severus' gait. It was snowing, heavily, and both of the lonely figures crossing the empty Hogwarts grounds were swathed in their heavy fifth year cloaks, though Severus' had a few more burn holes. The snow was almost knee high, but both Sirius and Severus were used to the heavy snows which came with the Christmas holidays. "James?" said Sirius as they neared the Forbidden Forest, "Oh, probably trying to get Lily to forgive him for another thing." "That's nice," replied Severus, "Now, go away." But instead of the sickeningly friendly come back that was expected, Sirius slapped Severus on the shoulder and said, "Alright. See you later!" But he didn't walk away; Severus did, heading for the Quidditch Pitch. When he was but a dwindling black figure in a whirl of snow, Sirius frowned deeply and motioned to something over his shoulder, still staring intently at Severus' figure. Out of the shelter of the groundskeepers hut came four figures. In the lead came Madame Pomfrey, followed by Remus, who was stooped slightly, then came James, the only one with his hood down, his hand resting on Remus' shoulder. Last came Peter, carrying a backpack which always contained the same things: food, water, first aid kit, their wands and a few other things to keep them occupied until it happened. Once Peter passed, Sirius looked warily around and followed the silent band of people, Madame Pomfrey still striding along in front. "Who was that?" whispered Peter. "Snape," replied Sirius, pulling his hood closer as a wind threatened to reveal them to prying eyes, "Had to get rid of him, you know what he's like, the bloody git." Peter grinned but it disappeared as the whooshing and groaning of the Whomping Willow came into view. Madame Pomfrey picked up a long stick, slid it through the branches and placed it on a bulging knot near a hole at the base of the tree. The limbs froze and Madame Pomfrey ushered Remus through, handing him the backpack. He gave his friends the thumbs up, then was gone through the hole. Madame Pomfrey heaved a sigh, then let go of the stick she was holding. "That boy is very brave," she said, looking sad, "He is very lucky to have friends like you. Come on then, back to the castle." She began to move off. "Madame Pomfrey?" said Sirius in his nicest tone. "Yes dear?" "Well, James and I have Quidditch practice." "And I'm going to watch," piped up Peter. Madame Pomfrey looked worried, but then shrugged. "Well, if you must go...but don't wander off afterwards, do you understand? Come straight back to the castle!" "We will," lied Sirius, flashing his toothy grin. Madame Pomfrey smiled and looked up at the moon. It was full and illuminated her face. It was creased with worry. She shook her head, and went back to the castle. James' face fell as he turned to pick up the stick. "Do you really think this is safe James?" squeaked Peter as the tree limbs froze again. "He's our mate, Pete," growled Sirius, pushing Peter through the hole and jumping in after him. "Yes, but won't he be angry at us?" whispered Peter as they crouched along the tunnel. No one answered. No one had thought that Remus might be angry with them for spying on him. They had known for some time that he was a werewolf, and when they found out, they (well, James and Sirius anyway) sort of felt left out of some adventure that Remus was having. But it was more the sense of a challenge and danger that drove them to the library, to study for hours and hours without Remus' knowing and to finally get what they wanted. It was...very satisfying. "Can't we do it now James?" asked Sirius, rubbing a bump on his head. "No, Remus won't have transformed yet. He's on the edge as it is, mate," replied James. They walked on in silence, the occasional yelps and chuckles piercing the quiet. Then James, who was in the lead, said, "Dead end. This must be it." There was a grunt of effort as James heaved at the ceiling with his hands. There was a shower of dirt, and then faint moonlight flooded in. James lifted himself through, stuck a hand down, helped Peter up then shuffled back as Sirius swung him through. The room they were in was in tatters. The wall paper, though it was already mouldy, was torn in places, and the little furniture in the room was smashed. Sirius sniffed and almost sneezed, but caught himself and whispered, "Doesn't this look familiar?" James pointed to the one window of the room. It was grimy, but had a small pane missing from it. Outside, it was snowing, and down the hill, were the numerous lights of Hogsmeade. "This is the Shrieking Shack," hissed Peter fearfully, stumbling backwards. James' hand shot out to steady his friend, but missed, and Peter fell onto a sofa, which splintered and shattered under his weight. The sound reverberated throughout the house and in the three's bones. When all was quiet once more, Sirius and James lifted Peter from the debris without much noise. "Are you alright, Pete?" whispered James. Peter nodded, hanging his head. James closed the trap door they had come through and it disappeared through the dust once more. "Be careful, Sirius!" breathed Peter as Sirius poked his head in a cupboard, "This place has violent ghosts!" Sirius snorted. "Haven't you figured it out yet?" he said wiping of a smear of dust on his nose, "It was Remus who did all this and howled in the night." "Oh..." "What was that?" said James suddenly, freezing on his inspection of a vase. Everyone went still. From above their heads, came a faint scuffling. It rose to a scraping. Then, an ear piercing scream split through the eerie silence. The scream went on, until it became deeper, more feral. Then abruptly it stopped. Four footfalls could be heard, crossing the room, the creak of a worn threshold. Everyone's eyes went to the deep, dark doorway. Hearts thudded against Adams apples. Heavy, laboured breathing came closer, the scrape of long claws on wood and carpet. "Now!" came a voice. The breathing neared. Two amber eyes observed where three boys had been, but were no more...