Cat, rat and dog

By the time we reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around us.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest.

The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still— OUCH! He bit me!"

"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute—"

"He won't— stay— put—"

Scabbers was terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip.

"What's the matter with him?"

Suddenly, I saw— stinking toward us, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness— Crookshanks. Whether he could see us or was following the sound of Scabbers's squeaks, I couldn't tell.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

But the cat was getting nearer—

"Scabbers— NO!"

Too late— the rat had slipped from between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness.

"Ron!" Hermione moaned.

Sighing, I made myself visible again and looked at Harry and Hermione, who were still under the cloak, before following Ron at a sprint; it was impossible for them to run full out like me from under the cloak. They pulled it off, and it streamed behind them like a banner as we hurtled after Ron; we could hear his feet thundering along ahead and his shouts at Crookshanks.

"Get away from him— get away— Scabbers, come here—" There was a loud thud.

"Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat—"

Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

"Ron— come on back under the cloak—" Hermione panted. "Dumbledore, the Minister— they'll be coming back out in a minute—"

But before they could cover themselves again, before I could make myself invisible again, before we could even catch our breath, we heard the soft pounding of massive paws... Something was bounding toward us, quiet as a shadow— an enormous, pale-eyed, jet black dog. If I had to compare it to any of my soul animals or my wolf, it was small, but, for a regular dog, it was enormous.

Harry reached for his wand, but too late— the dog had made an enormous leap, and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch— long teeth—

"No, stop! I can change th—"

I cut myself off when I could clearly see the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Heat building up inside of me, I ran to Harry and carefully helped him stand up; we could hear the dog growling as it skidded around for a new attack. I swear, for a man, he is really doing whatever he's thinking of doing, stupidly.

Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang back toward us he pushed Harry and I aside; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Ron's outstretched arm. Harry lunged forward, he seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as though he were a rag doll—

Then, out of nowhere, something hit me so hard across the face and knocked me off my feet again. I heard Hermione shriek with pain and Harry shout as they fell too.

Harry groped for his wand. "Lumos!" he whispered.

The wand light showed the trunk of a thick tree; we had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow, and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop us going nearer.

Damn.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the idiot dog, dragging Ron backward into a large gap in the roots— Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight—

"Ron!" I shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air, and I was forced backward again.

All we could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground— but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight.

"Harry, Deli— we've got to go for help—" Hermione gasped; she was bleeding too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder.

"No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time—"

"Harry— we're never going to get through without help—"

Another branch whipped down at us, twigs clenched like knuckles.

"If that dog can get in, we can," Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn't get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the tree's blows.

"Oh, help, help," Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, "Please..."

Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Harry's arm and mine painfully hard. "How did he know—"

"He's friends with that dog," said Harry grimly. "I've seen them together. Come on— and keep your wand out—"

We covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before we had reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks had slid into it with a flick of his bottlebrush tail. I followed the feline; I crawled forward, head first, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very tunnel. As I started getting up, some weight brought me back down again— Harry had gone in after me... I looked up and saw him laying on top of me, blushing almost as red as Ginny often does. He got up and pulled me out of the way as Hermione slithered in, seconds later, down beside me.

"Where's Ron?" she whispered in a terrified voice, grabbing hold of my arm.

"This way," said Harry. He grabbed my free hand and slightly tugged me forward, setting off, bent-backed, after Crookshanks.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asked breathlessly from behind us.

"I don't know... It's marked on the Marauder's Map, but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it... It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..."

We moved as fast as we could, bent almost double; ahead of us, Crookshanks's tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes...

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, I could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

Harry, Hermione and I paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. We raised our wands to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

I glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened but nodded.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole— dragging me along with him— staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to our right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. It looked exactly like it did in my vision. I recognized the place all too well— the place I had discovered a while after I had come back. Hermione suddenly grabbed my arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows. I decided it was time to break the silence.

"Guys," I started, "We're in the Shrieking Shack."

I looked around. My eyes fell on a wooden chair near us. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely.

"Ghosts didn't do that," Harry said slowly, staring at the chair too.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. We looked up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on my arm was so tight— if I weren't a hybrid with super-strength, I would be losing feeling in my fingers. I raised my eyebrows at her; she nodded again and let go.

Quietly, we crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

We reached the dark landing.

"Nox," we whispered together, and the lights at the end of our wands went out. Only one door was open. I put my wand in my back pocket as we crept toward the door, we heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. We exchanged one last look and one last affirming nod.

Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of us. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron.

Harry and Hermione dashed across to him, me trailing right behind them.

"Ron— are you okay?"

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap—"

"What—"

"He's the dog... he's an Animagus."

Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder. I wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind us.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin.

It was—

"Sirius Black," I murmured, utterly flabbergasted by the mere sight of him; Jesus— this guy's my father?

"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at us.

Harry's and Hermione's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry. I couldn't understand why, at the moment, I was unable to penetrate his mind. I've done it with dozens of people. Plus, he's my father, shouldn't it be easy?

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," he said hoarsely.

His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful... it will make everything much easier..."

The taunt about his father rang in Harry's ears as though Black had bellowed it. I could feel the boiling hate erupting in Harry's chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack... to kill and that shocked the hell out of me. Without knowing what he was doing, he started forward, but I stepped in front of him and put both of my hands on either side of him, grabbing him and pushing him back, though I wasn't the only one; Hermione and Ron had held onto him as well.

"No, Harry!" Hermione gasped in a petrified whisper for me; Ron, however, spoke to Black.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

Something flickered in Black's shadowed eyes.

"Lie down," he said quietly to Ron. "You will damage that leg even more."

"Did you hear me?" Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. "You'll have to kill all three of us!"

"What am I? A dead bug on a windshield?" I muttered to myself, low enough for no one to hear.

"All four of us!" Ron corrected himself. Apparently, I didn't speak as low as I thought.

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," said Black, and his grin widened.

"Why's that?" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Ron, Hermione and I. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew... What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry!" Hermione whimpered. "Be quiet!"

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with a considerable effort he broke free of Hermione's, Ron's and my restraint and lunged forward—

I watched in horror and shock as one of Harry's hands fastened over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collided with the side of Sirius' head, and they fell, backward, into the wall— Sirius didn't raise the wands in time. I could've done something to stop this, to make it all come to the clear, but I still didn't know everything— who Sirius was really after.

I continued to watch as Harry was beating up his godfather; Hermione was screaming; Ron was yelling. At one point, there was a blinding flash as the wand in Sirius' hand sent a jet of sparks into the air that missed Harry's face by inches; Harry the shrunken arm under his fingers twisting madly, but he clung on, his other hand punching every part of Black it could find.

But Sirius' free hand had found Harry's throat.

"No," he hissed, "I've waited too long—"

The fingers tightened, Harry choked, his glasses askew.

Then I saw Hermione's foot swing out of nowhere. Black let go of Harry with a grunt of pain; Ron had thrown himself on Black's wand hand, and I heard a faint clatter. He fought free of the tangle of bodies, and I saw his wand rolling across the floor; he threw himself toward it but—

"Argh!"

Crookshanks had joined the fray; both sets of front claws had sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry threw him off, but the damned cat had now darted toward Harry's wand—

"NO YOU DON'T!" roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned.

"Get out of the way!" he shouted at Ron and Hermione.

They didn't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambled aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands. Ron crawled to the four-poster and collapsed onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching his broken leg.

Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry ambling nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart, though I quickly grabbed my wand from my pocket and pointed it at Harry's back. I wasn't going to let him kill what he had left— what we had left.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him while I stayed a bit behind, still pointing my wand at his back. Of course, I wasn't going to do anything to Harry— I'm meant to protect him with my life, but I couldn't have him do anything he might regret, especially not to the only parent I had left. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye, and his nose was bleeding.

His wand quite steady, Harry said in a slightly shaky voice. "You killed my parents." Did he really?

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes, then looked over Harry's shoulder at me and his eyes widened.

"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story."

"The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't... You don't understand..."

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that... you did it..."

"Harry," I spoke up for the first time, though what caught me by surprise was how cold my voice sounded. "You only think you understand because of what you heard from other people you don't even know, but the thing is, they weren't there. They only continued to pass on the first rumor ever made about this mess. You need to listen to Sirius. He's telling the tr—"

Before I could add anything else—before either of them could say another word, something ginger streaked past me; Crookshanks leaped onto Black's chest and settled himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat.

"Get off," he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black's robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes. To his right, Hermione gave a dry sob.

Harry stared down at Black and Crookshanks, his grip tightening on the wand. This was not good. I knew exactly what he was thinking. So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black... If it was prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn't Harry's business... If Black wanted to save it, that only proved he cared more for Crookshanks than for Harry's parents...

Harry raised the wand. Black shifted his eyes to me and shook his head 'no.' But I paid no attention to him; I only focused on my wand that was pointed at my best friend's back. He was going to kill Black, and this was his chance... but I won't let him.

When Harry is about to kill him, he will be blasted back.

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, my wand on his back, his wand poised, Black staring up at us, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was rather silent.

And then came a new sound—

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor— someone was moving downstairs. I sniffed the air as discreetly as possible and instantly recognized the heavy scent of wet dog covered in sweat— I could also hear his the rate of his heartbeat quickening. Remus Lupin was on his way.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE— SIRIUS BLACK— QUICK!"

Black made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks; Harry gripped his wand convulsively, but the footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and Harry still hadn't done it which relieved me, I didn't want to have to blast my best friend into cinders.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to me, pointing my wand at Harry, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted.

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding as I put mine in my back pocket. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.

I stepped in front of Harry and pushed him behind me as he merely stood there, looking suddenly empty. Maybe because he hadn't done it. His nerve had failed him. Black was going to be handed back to the dementors. I pressed my back against his chest and felt him wrap his arms around my waist as if that would keep him on his feet.

Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Harry and I glanced at Lupin. We didn't understand what Lupin meant. Who was Lupin talking about? We turned to look at Black again.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered. I looked at my redheaded friend too then a few pieces started to click inside my head.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—" Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he saw something beyond Black, something none of us could see, "— unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on—"

But he never finished the question, because apparently what we saw next made his voice die in his throat. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixed at Black. The Professor walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

"NO! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You— you—"

"Hermione—"

"— you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down—"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked, now looking at me. "Just like Delilah asked! I've been covering up for you—"

"Hermione, listen to me, please," Lupin shouted. "I can explain—"

I could feel Harry shaking against me, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, tightening his grip on me. His voice was wavering, out of control, "and all this time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now— Let me explain..."

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too— he's a werewolf!"

I deadpanned, utterly unsure of what to think anymore.

Were they being serious— pun totally intended, despite the dire situation— or was this a fuckin' joke?

I tell them I'm a freakin' bloodsucking, hairy hybrid who is very dangerous and they hug me, but when they find out about a man being a simple werewolf, they freak out. I am way more dangerous than him! I mean, sure I can control myself, and I don't go ballistic at every full moon, but I don't even need to phase to snap someone's neck.

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though slightly pale. I was trying to remember why, but I kept coming up blank; I blame my lack of sleep.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle, and I certainly don't want Harry dead." An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made his way toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!"

"Ron!" I said angrily, but still weakly. There was one short beat of total silence as I balled my hands up into fists and clenched my jaw, shaking my head.

"You have no right to correct me," Ron bellowed.

I found I could not move a muscle, or even to blink. I waited to see if he would calm down, but then—

"You knew all along, didn't you? You're a traitor!" he screamed.

I was furious now, and I was all alone with my hatred and the pain that was so bad it was like being tortured. That one simple word brought back so many awful memories; I had been a traitor once, when I joined Proditorem, but I no longer was. Still,remembering that pained me to no end by simply reminding me how much I had lost because of that one betrayal. It made me think further back, when I ran as I was told to and left my family to die. Both. The pain was immense within me. Agonizing. It felt like being dragged slowly across a bed of razor blades.

Pain so bad you'd take death with a smile just to get away from it.

The heat unlocked my frozen muscles, and I pulled myself away from Harry's grip. I didn't know what I was doing; I stood there, trembling, ready to bolt for the very first escape that I could think of as all I saw was red. I could feel the crimson liquid pouring into my irises, my skin burning up yet freezing up like a corpse, my hair going thicker and darker— that was how much a single one of my memories could affect me. I walked to the other side of the room, in the corner, and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm myself down, staring up at the opposite wall and never taking my eyes off of it. I needed space. I needed to breathe.

No had said anything.

Then, with an obvious mountful of effort, Lupin turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since we did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted," Lupin uttered plainly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh. "You're one of the cleverest witches of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do." From the corner of my eyes, I saw him turn in my direction. "How long have you known, Delilah?"

I gave him a sideways glance and shrugged. "Since I saw you on the train," I mumbled, feeling no need to hide; I figured if they'd been so close to my mother, they probably knew of her magical inheritance— ergo, they'd have some idea of what I am and can do.

They all looked at me, stunned by my revelation, Ron being the first to snap out of his shock.

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf." Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," said Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy -"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He was pointing at Black, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. Ron edged away from both of them, dragging his leg.

"I have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look—"

He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned.

"There," said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now, will you listen?"

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it."

Realization slapped me across the face. "... you're Moony."

Lupin nodded. "That was my friends' nickname for me at school."

Sirius sported a smug grin at his words. "I came up with it," he said proudly.

I deadpanned. "How can you afford to be smug right now?" I uttered plainly. "... or proud?"

Completely ignoring the two of us, Harry looked at Lupin with wide eyes. "You wrote—"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, Hermione and Delilah might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"I feel I should be insulted by the claiming implication that I'm impulsive..." I mumbled to myself. "But then again, I did jump off a cliff having no idea how to swim..."

"You don't know how to swim?" Hermione uttered surprised, after having overheard my mumbles.

I shook my head in reply and shrugged listlessly at the trivial, fun fact about myself. I turned my gaze back to Lupin and found he had started to pace up and down, for a moment, before looking at us.

"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry—"

"How d'you know about the cloak?"

"Seriously?" Hermione uttered breathily. "I'm surprised no one else knows or has confiscated it..."

"I know right—"

"You numbnuts, shut up!" Ron hissed at us.

Huh, that's a first; usually, Hermione's doing the scolding...

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it..." said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle." That sounds like something a stalker would submit so elaborately. "But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow—"

"One of us!" Ron snarled. I straightened up my position and walked back to stand beside Harry, not caring that my appearance hadn't changed back.

I looked at Ron and shook my head. "No, Ron," I said. "Two of you."

Lupin had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron. "Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," I said.

"Could I see him, please?" Lupin asked.

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean— of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."

I gasped as, once again, realization slapped m across the face. "Oh, my goddess..." I whispered.

Black and Lupin nodded. "An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."