Chapter Eight – Questions and Answers

"Anything?"

Looking back over his shoulder, having given up on his own search, Remus watched as a shaggy canine behind shuffled backwards out from under the couch with undignified grace. If things weren't as they were, the sight would have been amusing. Instead the humour passed the werewolf by and he found himself resisting the urge to huff with impatience. No sooner was the enormous black dog free of the tatty sofa however, his shape blurred, stretched and Sirius Black stood tall in its place, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head in the negative.

"Nothing."

Letting out a long breath, Remus ran his hand over his face and moved to the nearest seat, dropping into it carelessly. "This doesn't make sense."

In reply Sirius only made a 'what do you want me to say?' expression and wandered idly across the room, peering into various pots and jars on the large heavily stocked dresser that rested against one wall of the main room of Hagrid's home. Occasionally Sirius would give the contents of one the jars a sniff, or use a finger to sample whatever was inside, then he'd move on to the next one.

"Are you sure they didn't say anything else?" Remus prodded, watching Sirius carefully. He was calm, for now. But if his experience over the last twenty-four hours had taught Remus nothing else it was that Sirius Black's moods were even more mercurial than they'd been during their school days. One minute he would be quiet and morose like a sulky teenager, the next agitated and watchful like a hunted animal. He could go from talking at a hundred miles an hour, eyes lit with something not quite sane, grinning and laughing like he'd overdosed on pepper-up potion, to explosive thundering destructive rage in the blink of an eye. And then there were moments like this one, when Sirius seemed so perfectly normal, well normal for Sirius at any rate, almost as if the last eleven and half years hadn't happened at all.

And maybe if Sirius had a bath, a change of clothes and didn't look, smell and occasionally shudder like a man who'd just spent the last decade and a bit in prison being psychologically tortured by the very worst Dark Creatures ever created, Remus might have been fooled. But he wasn't fooled, and he wasn't about to turn his back on Sirius Black if he could help it, at least not if he couldn't keep track of the man with his other senses as well.

So he kept watching as Sirius roamed the edges of the room, poking, prodding, looking under things, and generally giving the small, cluttered hovel a thorough if careful going over. Remus had all but given up on getting an answer to his question when Sirius finally spoke again.

"Harry's been here."

"They said that?" Remus asked in surprise.

"No." Sirius shook his head, not looking back at the seated werewolf. "I smelt him, over by the hearth. Faint though, and strange, like he was only there, nowhere else in the room. Him and his redhead friend."

Remus could well remember Sirius, James and Peter all trying to explain to him the ways their animagus selves saw the world, and could admit to feeling the pang of bitter irony that he, a werewolf, had never and would never know the incredible experience of seeing the world through a canine nose.

His senses were heightened of course. He could smell people, though he struggled to find words to describe the uniqueness of individual scents. If he was stood close enough to someone he could smell emotions, although arousal and fear were unfortunately the easiest to identify and they tended to send the wolf slightly batty in the back of his mind. He could smell what someone had for dinner on their breath, and the age of a person. He could smell death, blood and strong magic. He'd been able to tell that Sirius had been in the castle as his was the only scent other than his own in many of the tunnels he'd wandered through. But here in Hagrid's home all he could actually smell was Hagrid, the pheasants and rabbits hung near the window, and dog.

He couldn't even smell Dumbledore, Fudge and Malfoy, although Sirius had followed their trails right into the hut.

"It's probably old." Sirius suddenly sighed. "There's nothing here. Whatever they took Hagrid for, it's not here. Stupid bastard."

"Sirius." Remus warned quietly.

"Well he is!" Sirius snapped, turning sharply to face Remus. "He didn't even put up a fight! No sign of a struggle, no magic residue. Nothing. He didn't even try to stop them taking him!"

"Would you honestly expect him to?" Remus questioned calmly. Agitated Sirius was back. "This IS Hagrid we're talking about."

"He doesn't know. He doesn't know what it's like there. What that place does. What you see. What you hear. He doesn't know! He went willingly! He didn't fight! He'll... they'll..."

Remus saw it coming this time. Saw the moment Sirius went somewhere else. It was startling. Frightening. And unfathomably sad. And even sadder still because he knew in that instant what he had to do. He was on his feet before he knew he'd moved; had drawn his wand before the decision had registered. A sound, something feral, something wounded and furious began to break from Sirius' lips as he clutched his head in his hands, fingers clawing at his scalp. "Dissolventur!"

The sound became a shocked squawk as the spell connected and Sirius crumpled into an ungainly pile on the floor, all his muscles having gone limp. Remus hadn't wanted to stun him, firstly because it would have knocked him off his feet likely causing damage to Hagrid's home, and secondly because he wasn't sure Sirius wouldn't simply wake up as enraged as he was when he was knocked out, if not more so. This way at least, Sirius couldn't hurt himself, anyone else or cause any damage, but was still awake. It wasn't a long lasting hex, and Remus remained ready to cast it again if needed, but it seemed the shock of it had done the trick.

From his clearly uncomfortable heap on the floor, Sirius slowly managed to raise his head and blinked somewhat owlishly up at Remus; his face crumpling into what could have been a scowl if his facial muscles weren't still the consistency of wet spaghetti.

Keeping his wand trained on the fallen man, Remus raised an eyebrow in return, but the words he was about to speak were cut off by a sound that was deeply out of place on the grounds of Hogwarts. Rushing to the window, Remus peered out before quickly ducking down out of sight.

Sprawled in the middle of floor, Sirius had regained enough control of his limbs to roll onto his stomach and cast Remus an urgent look. "What is it?"

"A car." Remus replied in hushed, somewhat bemused tones. "What is a Muggle car doing at Hogwarts?"

"Is it bluish and really banged up?" Sirius hissed back, levering himself up onto his elbows. When Remus nodded, Sirius chuffed an amused sound and dropped back to the floor. "It lives in the forest. Nasty bugger. Hagrid's probably been feeding it."

"Lives? Feeding it?"Remus replied incredulously. "It's alive?"

"Apparently. Merlin knows what it eats." Sirius groaned as he tried move again. "Bloody hell, what did you hit me with?"

"Limp-limbs hex." Remus shot back distractedly. "How do you know it's alive?"

"Because the effing thing chased me around the forest that's why. Gives new meaning to road kill." Sirius retorted sharply before letting out another moan. "I'm really getting tired of you cursing me."

Remus bit down on replying that he was getting really tired of Sirius' mood swings, and was saved from any reply at all when the door suddenly burst open. Too late he'd heard the sound an approach over the noise of the car. Time went plastic as his eyes met Sirius' haunted silver-grey's in sudden horror. The door swung wide, a dark shape moved into the room. Then the door bounced against its hinges and slammed itself shut leaving the two Marauders to stare at the dribbling black bloodhound that had skidded to a halt near Sirius' head and was now looking down at the prone man in equal bewilderment.

First to break out of their stupor, the dog sniffed at Sirius. Sirius blurred, and in his place the huge shape of his animagus form growled. The blood hound backed up a step, tailed tucked between its legs and head lowered as it whined.

Remus could only watch as Sirius struggled to his feet, his growls never ceasing. Remus would never claim to be able to speak to dogs, because that would imply the ability to hold a conversation with any random mutt he crossed paths with, but what he could do was understand them. The language of canines wasn't like that of humans. It wasn't a language designed for deep philosophical debate; there were after all only between fifty and two hundred sounds that could be considered words. But that didn't matter. So much more could be communicated in other ways; through body language, touch, scent and intonation.

In Sirius' current state though, Remus wasn't entirely sure what he was doing was such a good idea.

'My den! Me Alpha.'

'Bigger Alpha Den. Bigger Alpha gone?'

That seemed to stop Sirius, and he cocked his head curiously at the bloodhound who seemed to be watching him imploringly. 'Bigger Alpha Pack?'

'Me Bigger Alpha Pack.' The bloodhound huffed forlornly, his whole body flat to the floor and Remus could hear how much the great beast missed Hagrid already.

'Bigger Alpha come back. Me Alpha wait Bigger come back.'

'Bigger come back?' The bloodhound whined hopefully, and Sirius nuzzled him reassuringly.

'Bigger come back. Me Alpha protect.'

Remus shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall behind him. The sound of the car intensified for a moment, then moved away, and Remus could only assume that it had driven itself back into the forest. He could still hear the whines, huffs, small barks and growls of the canine conversation going on inside the hut. It lost much of its meaning without being able to the see them and he let it fade into the background of his consciousness as he tried to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

He wasn't as hazy as he'd been last night and earlier that morning, although only the clarity of thought he felt now let him know that he hadn't been as clear headed as he'd thought yesterday. He could still remember everything that had been said well enough, both in the classroom and later once they'd reached the shrieking shack, and now he turned it all over in his mind.

Sirius' revelations and explanations still made the same sickening kind of sense as they had when he'd first heard them. If anything they made more sense to him now. On the other hand however, it was difficult to take it all in. He'd spent so long believing in Sirius' guilt it was hard to let that go.

So really it boiled down to a choice. Who did he believe? Peter or Sirius.

And if it was just himself he had to worry about, making that kind of decision wouldn't be so hard. It wasn't just about him though was it? Even as he turned Sirius' tale over in his mind, he was aware just how much might be riding on what he chose to believe. One man's freedom, life, reputation and future. A young boy's safety. Maybe the lives of countless others.

Two men. Two men who'd lost the last decade of their lives. Two men he'd known since he was eleven years old, and twelve years ago he would never thought to doubt. Not in this way. Two stories. One the truth. One a lie. One man a traitor. One man a loyal friend. One man responsible for the deaths of at least thirteen people. One man an innocent victim of the other man's treachery.

Part of him had hoped not to have to be the one to make this decision. Going to Dumbledore would have taken the burden from his shoulders, and put it squarely onto far more experienced ones. Granted Dumbledore hadn't vanished from the face of the earth. He might not be Headmaster of Hogwarts, at least for the time being – neither he nor Sirius had been able to work out from what Sirius had overheard whether Dumbledore's suspension was permanent – but Albus Dumbledore had never been a one trick pony. It was for his role as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot that they needed him anyway. In that role he was not only used to making these kinds of decisions, but had the power and authority to do something about it.

Until they could work out a way to get to Dumbledore without Sirius getting recaptured and returned to Azkaban however, the decision remained for Remus to make.

Looking across the small main room of Hagrid's hut, over to where Sirius had pretty much collapsed in front of the hearth once Hagrid's dog had slunk off to fall asleep in an armchair, Remus realised he'd already made his choice. He'd made his choice the moment he'd taken Sirius with him when he'd escaped the classroom the previous evening. If he hadn't believed even a fraction of what Sirius had told him, he would have stunned the escapee and left him for Snape to find.

He hadn't done that. He'd helped Sirius. He believed Sirius.

He just hoped he wasn't being a fool.

~HpɸqH~

Strictly speaking, students weren't supposed to remain in the common room for long after curfew.

Strictly speaking, the prefects were supposed to ensure that all students got to bed at a reasonable time. Of course in reality, it didn't quite work that way. There was only so much they could do.

Of course things had been made just that little bit harder for the prefects in the last few days what with the new curfew rules and the fact that all students were restricted to their common rooms except for meal times and lessons. Meal times had been made shorter to reduce dawdling, and lessons extended by ten minutes each to allow for teachers to escort students between classes. Each house had been given a half hour library slot each day where Madam Pince would collect students from their common rooms and take them to and from the library personally. Quiddich was officially cancelled until further notice. As were Hogsmeade weekends (again), choir practices, chess club meetings, instrumental lessons and field trips.

The idea was to reduce the chances of another attack. The end result so far had been a lot of ticked of students crammed into their common rooms, bored out of their minds and suffering from acute cabin fever. Even Hermione, who had only just been released from the Hospital wing, was beginning to feel chaffed by the restriction.

Especially when she knew of at least two fellow Gryffindors who were blatantly flouting the rules. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of either of them since they'd briefly stopped in to visit her that morning. She'd been in the common room since she'd been released, and they certainly hadn't been through. Which could mean only one of two things. One; they'd retreated to their dorm room much earlier in the day and had somehow managed to not be seen by either of their dorm-mates Neville and Seamus. Or Two; they'd snuck out under Harry's invisibility cloak.

Which was why she'd elected to stay up. The prefects tended to shoo students who were just lounging around up to bed when it began to get late, but they left those actually studying alone as a general rule. She was the only one left in the common room now, even the prefects had gone to bed - with a stern admonishment to make sure she went to bed at some point. They didn't need to know that she'd finished all of her homework hours ago and that she'd moved onto some extra-curricular reading while she waited.

A large black dog stared up at her from the pages of her open book; red eyes blazing, hackles raised and teeth bared. The various myths and legends surrounding the Grim were detailed in small swirling print on the page. There wasn't a great deal to go on, especially as Dumbledore had actually said he didn't think what she'd seen was The Grim. What had he said to Professor McGonagall? 'Something more mundane yet far more incredible'. The statement itself was a contradiction, and it wasn't like she could ask him what he meant; she doubted she was supposed to have overheard the conversation between Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress in the first place.

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione turned the page and continued reading although she was rapidly losing hope that she would find the answers she wanted about her mysterious saviour. Because that's what whatever he, she or it was. Her saviour. The memories were a bit vague, but she knew that without the dog's intervention she would have been petrified or worse.

Lifting one side of the book off the table, she glanced down guiltily at the sheet of parchment she'd kept hidden under the book. She'd told Dumbledore everything she'd seen and heard, but she hadn't told him about this. She couldn't even say why she'd withheld what she'd discovered in the library, she just had.

But it wasn't like Professor Dumbledore wouldn't work it out for himself if he hadn't already. He was Dumbledore. He knew everything. And of course there was the fact that knowing what the monster was didn't tell them anything about where the chamber was, who was opening it or how to stop them.

Dropping the corner of the book, she was about to check her watch when she heard the familiar mumbled voice of the Fat Lady, and then the sound of the portrait opening and closing. That no-one actually came through the portrait hole would have confused anyone else.

She wasn't anyone else.

Closing her book, she waited.

"Hermione!"

"Where have you been?!" Hermione snapped as the two figures emerged from under the cloak, her face set in a firm scowl. "Professor McGonagall said no one was allowed out of the dorms without an escort. If you'd been caught you'd have been in detention until at least Easter."

"Well we weren't caught were we?" Ron huffed, dropping down into one of the chairs next to Hermione's table. "We were sent on a completely useless wild goose chase through the Forbidden Forest and almost eaten alive by thousands of bloody great spiders, but we weren't caught."

"Acromantulas." Hermione corrected primly, and at the confused looks from Harry and Ron she rolled her eyes. "Don't you two ever pay attention? If by giant spiders you mean larger than ones you'd find in the bath, then they're called Acromantulas. Why were you in the Forbidden Forest anyway?"

"Hagrid." Harry replied, like it explained everything.

"Follow the spiders!" Ron groused. "Follow the bloody spiders! I'm gonna kill him. I swear I'm gonna kill him."

"Ron," Harry sighed wearily, sounding very much like someone who had had to listen to the same complaint for some time. "Hagrid didn't know that Aragog couldn't stop his children from attacking us."

"Didn't know?" Ron blurted out; ducking his head as both Harry and Hermione frantically shushed him. When he continued he'd lowered his voice to a hush. "Didn't know? How could he not know? He sent us into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night following the bloody spiders! What did he think they were going to do? Welcome us with tea and cake?"

"Well what did you think would happen Ron? You agreed to come along." Harry groaned exasperatedly, and Hermione noticed he looked worn out, and increasingly fed up with Ron's belly aching.

"So why did he send you into the forest?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Because he's mental." Ron started up again, but cut off sharply when Hermione kicked him under the table. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Because you're being a bore." Hermione justified. "Hagrid wouldn't have sent you into the forest without a good reason."

"I think he thought he had a good reason." Harry agreed tiredly. "And we now know Hagrid wasn't the one to open the Chamber."

"Well I could have told you that." Hermione cut in smugly.

"Oh right, because you never thought Hagrid did it." Ron threw back, remembering as Hermione was, the conversation they'd had after Harry had told them about the vision he'd had when reading Tom Riddle's diary. Tom Riddle had obviously believed Hagrid had opened the chamber, but clearly he'd been mistaken.

"Actually Ronald. I didn't." Hermione glared, before turning her nose up and directing a far more pleasant expression in Harry's direction. "I know Hagrid didn't do it because I worked out what the monster actually is." Fishing the piece of parchment out from under her book, she passed it over to Harry. "It's a Basilisk."

"A basa-what?" Ron asked, shuffling his chair closer to read over Harry's shoulder.

"A Basilisk." Hermione repeated tetchily.

"Look Ron." Harry intervened before another sniping match could begin. Sometimes he wondered if Hermione and Ron were actually capable of holding a civil conversation at all. "Spiders flee before it... that's what Aragog said wasn't it? That the monster was the only creature they really feared?"

"Yeah... blimey Harry, this isn't a monster, it's a nightmare!" Ron exclaimed as he continued to read.

"Hang on." Harry frowned. "This says that one look in the Basilisk's eye is fatal. But no-one's died. They've just been petrified."

"Well maybe it needs glasses." Ron offered glibly.

"Funny." Hermione dead panned in return, looking to share her lack of amusement with Harry.

But Harry wasn't paying attention, he was frowning at the parchment in front of him. "Ron might be on to something."

"What? I was only joking mate."

"No, listen. What if it couldn't see the people it attacked clearly?" Harry thought out loud.

Hermione nodded, catching on. "Or theycouldn't see it clearly."

"Precisely" Harry continued, getting into the idea. "Colin saw the monster through his camera."

"Justin saw it through Nearly Headless Nick." Hermione supplied. "And Penelope and I were using a mirror to look around corners. She must have seen it in that!"

"Hey. There's all those mirror panels in the walls where they found, oh what's her name, the Hufflepuff who got done a few weeks ago." Ron joined in.

"Heather Collins." Hermione supplied, scowling at Ron's insensitivity.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Yeah her. So she probably saw it in them. But what about Filch's cat, Mrs Norris? Somehow I don't think she was walking around with a mirror or a camera."

"Water." Harry murmured. "There was water on the floor that night. If she was looking down..."

"Of course." Hermione agreed. "She'd have seen its reflection."

"But that means it's all been an accident." Harry concluded, his face crumpling under the realisation. "The only reason no one is dead is pure chance, and with Dumbledore gone... Hagrid was right, the Muggleborns don't stand a chance."

"What do you mean Dumbledore's gone? Gone where!?"