To start with, Draco hadn't thought much of his friends' tardiness. Granger was prompt by nature, but neither of the other two were; Weasley was too laid-back to get worked up over things like the time, and Potter had the most incredible ability to get side-tracked. Between mirror-calls with Black, Wood and the Quidditch team, Creevey and his camera and his questions, strange conversations with Lovegood or Zabini, and Potter's own - occasionally dangerous - curiosity, it was frankly astounding that he ever made it anywhere.

Besides, when Draco, his father and his brother made it down to Hagrid's hut, Dumbledore was already present, and more than capable of entertaining Draco. Aside from a few strange conversations with him in first year, Draco had never had much to do with the Headmaster, but he had a fair bit of admiration for the man after only a few short minutes; anyone that could handle Father and Fudge so easily with nothing more than polite questions and vague smiles, was wholly deserving of it.

But, when a flushed and dishevelled McGonagall had interrupted about halfway through Buckbeak's defence and taken Dumbledore away with her, the other three were still yet to arrive.

It had been almost an hour since then, and Draco was now certain they weren't coming. Involved as they had been in the research, and fond as they were of Hagrid, whatever had kept them from coming down must have been significant, though Draco couldn't imagine what it might be:

Perhaps Granger had failed her exam and was inconsolable… but how difficult could muggle studies be for a muggleborn? Or perhaps Weasley One or Two had injured themselves with some experiment or prank and Weasley was keeping vigil in the Hospital Wing. Or, perhaps Potter had stumbled across some sort of dark scheme that needed thwarting before dinner and had decided he'd be the one to do it.

But none of those things would explain why all three of them were absent; if one of them was occupied, surely the other two would still have come down.

But perhaps it's better this way, Draco thought, miserably, looking at Hagrid, who'd run out of tears while they were waiting, and was sitting, quiet and puffed-eyed, with a soaked yellow and blue floral handkerchief dangling from one hand.

"I really think we ought to wait for the Headmaster to return before we- go through with it…" Fudge said, turning his bowler hat over in his hands. "He was quite adamant about being present."

Hydrus, who'd deigned to touch the chair he was sitting on but absolutely nothing else the entire time they'd been there, twitched out of the way as Fang moved; the big dog abandoned his spot pressed against Draco and padded over to rest his head on Hagrid's leg.

"If he wanted to be present, he oughtn't have gone running off," Father said. "I say we get on with things." Draco kept his expression cool but blank, refusing to give Father any satisfaction at all.

"Well… yes, perhaps…" Fudge said. "If everyone else is in favour?" Old Mr Leeche said nothing; he'd nodded off about twenty minutes ago, but Draco didn't think anyone else had noticed. Macnair was also silent. He didn't even turn away from the window - he'd been watching Buckbeak since the decision was made - but he did reach out to caress the blade of his axe. Hagrid blew his nose loudly.

Draco swallowed and looked away.

"Well," Fudge said, clearly feeling underwhelmed by the response. He glanced at Father. "No point in dragging out the unpleasantness… sure Dumbledore will understand…" Father nodded and Fudge cleared his throat. "All right. The official notice of execution - you'll have to sign as a witness, Hagrid, and you, Macnair, so listen in…"

Macnair turned away from the window.

"It is the decision," Fudge said, "of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the hippogriff Buckbeak…" Father glanced Draco's way again, clearly looking for a response. Draco gave him nothing, kept his face smooth, though his insides were tangled. "... shall be executed on..."

Hagrid let out a loud, choked sob, and the tangles in Draco's chest writhed like snakes. He felt his mask slip.

"Please don't do this, Father," he said. "Please."

"The Committee made the decision," Father said, arching an eyebrow, "not me."

Lie, Draco's mind supplied.

"Please," Draco said again.

But, though he got the impression Father was pleased Draco was begging, he could tell they were well past the point where it would do him any good.

Fudge had finished reading, and Hagrid was trying to sign the parchment; his hand was shaking so badly he snapped three quills before he managed it.

"Macnair."

Macnair drifted away from the window and scribbled on the parchment, a dark, eager glint in his eye.

"I'm sorry," Draco said to Hagrid. "I thought…"

"Yeh did what yeh could," Hagrid said tearfully, thumping Draco on the shoulder. "'S'not your fault…"

But if I hadn't told Father about freeing Dobby, he wouldn't have been as angry-

Draco stood so quickly he knocked over his chair, which was saying something because Hagrid's furniture was very large and heavy.

"Draco…" Father said warningly.

"Loo," Draco choked and scrambled into Hagrid' bathroom. He shut the heavy door behind him. He'd been in the bathroom exactly once before, back in first year, and been rather horrified by how primitive it was. It hadn't improved at all in the past two years; there was a trough of water with a bucket, which Draco presumed was used to flush the enormous toilet, and nothing else. Despite that, the room would serve his purposes: "Dobby!" he hissed, crossing his fingers.

"This is ridiculous," Father said, and Draco heard him stand. "Draco, come out at once-"

"Leave the lad be, Malfoy," Hagrid said, sniffing.

Dobby appeared with a quiet pop, and Draco dove forward to clamp a hand over his his mouth before he could say anything. They were both still - Dobby's eyes enormous and confused - for a few seconds, but no one in the hut's other room seemed to have heard anything:

"You're in my way," Father said curtly. Dobby let out a muffled squeak at the sound of Father's voice.

"I meant ter be," Hagrid replied, his voice closer than Father's. "'S'my house, and if Draco wants ter use the loo, he ruddy well can!"

Draco pressed a finger to his lips and released Dobby, who watched the door, trembling.

"There's a hippogriff outside," Draco breathed. "A big horse- thing. I need you to get it away from here - now. Please. They're going to kill it otherwise." Dobby looked rather startled. "Please. I need you to help."

Slowly, nervously, Dobby nodded.

"Thank you," Draco said. "Now go - and don't let anyone see you!" He vanished without a sound.

Draco's heart was pounding. He'd have liked to splash water on his face to calm himself, but didn't trust the trough to be clean; likely as not, Hagrid had filled it from the lake, or some swamp in the forest.

He took a few deep breaths, clearing his expression out of habit before realising it might be best not to. If he looked too calm, Father might be suspicious.

Draco pulled the door open, and stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his mouth on his sleeve for effect.

Hagrid, who seemed to have planted himself in front of the door, shuffled out of the way.

"You look awful," Hydrus told him.

"Yeh all right?"

Draco nodded at Hagrid, glancing quickly at Father and then away again, as if embarrassed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Father curl his lip in distaste.

"Lucius," Fudge said, "if the boy's ill, perhaps he ought to stay inside-"

Hydrus' eyes brightened, and Draco was sure he was about to declare that he too was feeling ill, but Father spoke first.

"He's fine," Father said, daring Draco with his eyes to disagree. It was beyond tempting to disagree for the sake of it, but if Dobby was able to pull this off he wanted to go along and see Father's face. Draco said nothing. "Shall we?"

Draco looked at Macnair, who had his axe in hand and was over by the door, doing a poor job at concealing his impatience. Then he looked out the window at Buckbeak, still sitting in Hagrid's garden.

He's still there…

Fudge woke Leeche and helped him over to the door. Hagrid was crying again and Hydrus looked like he might be sick.

Draco was feeling genuinely ill himself now; it was an awfully big ask of poor Dobby to find a way to move the hippogriff. What if he didn't manage it? Dobby wasn't very tall or very strong, and Buckbeak was both of those things. What if Buckbeak attacked Dobby, like he had Hydrus? Or, what if Dobby was seen? Father would know Draco had arranged for him to be there, and he was sure to tell the Minister. What if Dobby and Draco went to Azkaban?

"Come, Draco," Father said, gesturing for him.

"Come, Draco," Hydrus mimicked, speaking under his breath, voice bitter. Fudge glanced at him, bewildered. Father clearly hadn't heard; he grasped Draco's shoulder, fingers digging in when Draco tried to shrug him off, and steered him toward the door.

Draco felt like his heart was in his throat as they stepped outside. The sun was just starting to lower, and it was an unusually chilly evening, and Draco almost couldn't bear to look, because if Buckbeak was still there, like he had been a minute ago, then Dobby had failed, had-

"Oh dear," Fudge said. Father's hand spasmed on Draco's shoulder. Draco's heart leapt and he looked up at the empty garden.

"Where is it?" Leeche asked, looking to Macnair. Macnair swung his axe at Hagrid's scarecrow with a loud thud, and straw went everywhere.

"I saw it, just now, thought the window," Fudge said. Hydrus looked around, nodding, and Draco thought he seemed a little relieved. Hagrid let out a wail of happiness and began to sob.

"Gone," he blubbered. "Gone, he's gone! He's gone an' pulled himself free!"

Father turned on Draco, hand tightening.

"Convenient, isn't it," he hissed, "that your housemates never arrived. They've stolen it-"

"Father," Draco said, pressing a hand to his chest in surprise, "you heard what the hippogriff did to Hydrus. How could anyone have got close enough to such a dangerous creature, to take it?"

"Where is it?"

"Apparently not here."

Father moved like he was going for his wand, but Fudge's cry of surprise stopped him:

"What on Earth…!?" Four figures on broomsticks came pelting over the top of the forest; one of the figures veered off toward the school gate, two sped past on the way to the castle, and the fourth came directly toward them. "Dumbledore!?" Fudge cried, and it was indeed the Headmaster.

His purple hat was lopsided and his beard had been swept back over one shoulder. It would have been funny, except for the grave look on his face.

"Flying?!" Fudge demanded. "You ran off in such a hurry to go flying?!"

"Two students are missing," Dumbledore said.

"Draco's friends, no doubt," Father said. "Fear not, Dumbledore; they'll show up shortly - stolen hippogriff and all." He gave Draco a sharp look.

"Do you mean to tell me Peter Pettigrew has taken Buckbeak as well?!" Dumbledore gave Father an incredulous look. Father turned a funny shade of pink and started to splutter. "That is most troubling news indeed." Draco saw the briefest flicker of amusement in the Headmaster's eyes, but it was gone quickly.

Then Draco realised what the Headmaster had said.

"Pettigrew?!" he and Fudge said in unison.

"He's taken students?" Fudge asked, wringing his hands. "Have the Aurors-"

"They are aware of the situation," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Potter," Draco said numbly. "It's Potter, isn't it." It was always Potter.

"No' Harry!" Hagrid said, aghast.

"For once, it is not," Dumbledore said, quietly. Draco sagged, relieved. "Mr Potter is quite safe, in Professor McGonagall's office."

"And the others?" Draco asked. It was hard to tell through his beard, but Draco thought the Headmaster's mouth might have turned down.

"I suggest you all head inside." Dumbledore said, nodding at Hagrid's hut. "Alastor has gone to retrieve the Dementors from the gates, and they will soon be patrolling the grounds with instructions to detain anyone and everyone they come across."

"I think I'd prefer to leave entirely," Father said.

"I'm afraid no one will be leaving until the missing students are found," Dumbledore said. "The school is under lockdown."

As if on cue, McGonagall's voice echoed loudly over the grounds, announcing the lockdown, and ordering students back to their Houses immediately. Draco shared a look with Hydrus, who looked pale and uncertain.

"I'll wait at the castle," Father said.

"Of course," Dumbledore said politely. "I'm certain we can find an empty classroom for you to wait in-"

"Empty classroom?" Father sneered. "I'm a member of the Board of Governors-"

"Oh, I'd leave someone with you, of course, so you weren't unprotected."

"Severus, perhaps?" Father said.

"No, not Severus, he's merely our Potions Master," Dumbledore said. The twinkle was back in his eye. "Alastor, I think. As an ex-Auror, he'd be more than up to the task of ensuring your safety." He nodded to himself.

"That won't be necessary," Father said stiffly.

"It's no trouble," Dumbledore assured him. "After all, we dare not risk the safety of one of the members of the Board of Governors…" Father seemed to have nothing to say to that, but his jaw was very tight. "Hagrid, I trust you are able to see to the protection of the younger Mr Malfoys, the Minister, and his guests?"

"O'course, sir," Hagrid said, straightening. "They'll be safe with me."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "In you go, then. Come along, Lucius." He swung a leg over his broomstick. "I'm afraid I only have the one broomstick, but time is of the essence…"


"...no sign of them - or anyone - recently," McGonagall said tiredly. She'd chased Ginny out of her chair as soon as she arrived back, and reclaimed it for herself. She looked like she needed it.

"But I saw-"

"I am quite certain, Mr Potter," she said. "The Shack is empty."

There were footsteps outside, and Harry, Padfoot and McGonagall looked up a few moments before Ginny and Dora did.

Cedric Diggory and another Hufflepuff boy appeared in the corridor outside, both laden with library books, pausing when they caught a look into the office; the door was open, as McGonagall had likely assumed the only interruptions would be from teachers. Cedric's eyes landed on Harry, curious. McGonagall sighed, and half-rose, but there were more footsteps outside, then Snape's voice:

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Diggory, and twenty from you too, Stebbins." Both boys twitched, looking further down the corridor.

"Forty points? For what?!" Stebbins asked.

"For reaching fifth year and not understanding the meaning of the word immediately," Snape said, stepping into view.

"That's not fai-"

But Cedric grabbed the other boy's arm, pulled him past Snape and off down the corridor, shooting a last, concerned look into McGonagall's office as he went.

Snape strode in a moment later, eyes flicking over the office's occupants before landing on McGonagall.

She was pursing her lips, but didn't say anything except, "The Floo, Severus?"

"Shut off," he said curtly. She nodded. Snape hesitated, looking down, then at Ginny almost guiltily, before his eyes fell on Harry and stayed there.

"Granger and Weasley are with Pettigrew-" A dark, rather fierce loathing flared in Snape's scent when he mentioned Wormtail, but there was little suggestion of it in his expression. "-but… what of Draco?"

"With Hagrid." Dumbledore strode into the crowded office. He took in the sight of Padfoot, Dora and the two professors calmly, smiled kindly at Ginny, and then his eyes met Harry's, searching. Harry didn't realise he'd been worrying about Draco until he felt something in him settle at Dumbledore's words. In fact, Dumbledore's presence as a whole was very settling; as with Padfoot, Harry was incredibly grateful to have the Headmaster there.

"And Lucius and the Minister?" McGonagall asked, pursing her lips again.

"Both decided to stay with Hagrid, and are no doubt enjoying a rock cake, or a stoat sandwich," Dumbledore said, and his beard twitched. Padfoot grinned. "Now-" And Dumbledore was abruptly serious again. "-the Floo?"

"Closed," Snape said. Dumbledore nodded.

"I myself have extended the school's protective enchantments," Dumbledore said, "to incorporate a good portion of the forest, the road to Hogsmeade, Honeydukes, the Honeydukes passage, and the Shrieking Shack. Minerva?"

"Filius and Pomona are overseeing the return of the students to their common rooms," she said crisply. "Percy Weasley has the Gryffindors in hand - or as much in hand as they can be..." Ginny grinned. "I have informed him of your whereabouts Potter, Weasley." She gave them stern looks.

"Farley and Wilkes will oversee the Slytherins," Snape said.

"Very good." Dumbledore looked to Padfoot. "Can you think of any other precautions, Sirius?"

"I forgot I'd already told you about Honeydukes," Padfoot mused, looking at Dumbledore. McGonagall and Snape shared a look, McGonagall with raised eyebrows, and Snape with the slightest furrow of his brow.

"Honeydukes?"

"After Peter escaped Azkaban, Sirius informed me of a number of ways that he might try to gain access to the school. One of these was through a secret passage on the third floor that comes out in the Honeydukes cellar."

"On the third- where?" McGonagall asked.

"The statue of the one-eyed witch," Harry said impatiently. They didn't have time for this, not when Ron and Hermione were with Wormtail. McGonagall gave him a sharp look, Snape a sour one, and Dumbledore and Dora amused ones, before Padfoot saved him:

"When we were at school, we found it, and the spell that opens it."

"How?" she asked faintly, dragging her eyes off Harry to look at Padfoot. "One would think the four of you had nothing better to do as students than to maraud about inspecting the masonry!" Padfoot opened his mouth, but McGonagall rounded on Dumbledore before he could say anything. "And you, Albus, really should have said something about this secret passageway before now!"

"I arranged protections as soon as I learned of it," Dumbledore assured her. "I have set the portraits in that corridor to watch it, and placed an age line besides. No one of age is able to pass in or out - as a human, or an animal."

"Have you accounted for dog years?" Padfoot asked thoughtfully. "Or rat years, or whiche-"

"Padfoot!" Harry said. Interrupting the teachers was one thing, but Padfoot was fair game, where Harry was concerned.

"It is secure," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall's lips were as thin as Harry had ever seen them, but her expression softened when she looked at Harry:

"In that case," she said, "we have far more pressing matters to attend to."

"Portkeys," Padfoot said, pointing at Dumbledore. Dora glanced at him. "Crouch is good with portkeys. If he's involved, or if he's given something to Wormtail, it might be able to get through the school's wards. Remember the Ministry?" Dumbledore stroked his beard, frowning. "I've been doing a fair bit of research into it - mainly an old essay of Crouch's, and some long sessions with the Hit Wizards."

"You'd be able to keep one of his portkeys in?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think so," Padfoot said, but not with much certainty.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, gesturing to him. "Come with-"

Harry twitched as his mirror burned, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Harry Potter," Wormtail called. Padfoot snarled as Harry pulled his mirror out and put his hand out. "Harry?" Harry passed Padfoot the mirror. He stepped away from Dora, obviously not wanting Wormtail to know she was there, and gestured behind the mirror for everyone to be quiet. Then, he must have activated the mirror, because Wormtail spoke to him: "Hello, Sirius," he sighed, sounding rather unsurprised to see him, "is Harry there?"

"If you come forward now, Peter," Padfoot said curtly, ignoring his question, "you might still have half a chance. Where are you, and where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Where's Harry?" Wormtail repeated.

"He's here, and listening, but you're-"

"Harry," Wormtail called, "can you take the mirror from Sirius, please? I'd like to talk to you."

"You're going to be dealing with me," Padfoot said. "Not Harry-"

There was a hoarse yell of pain from within the mirror.

"Ron," Ginny mouthed, but Harry didn't need her to say it; he'd recognised the voice. On her face, Harry could see the same worried fury Harry himself was feeling. McGonagall had clearly recognised it too; she had a hand to her mouth, and looked very old.

"Put Harry on," Wormtail said into the silent office.

"Peter-"

But Harry went to stand beside Padfoot, who gave him a half disapproving, half worried look. Harry clenched his jaw, and Padfoot held the mirror back a bit so they could both see into it. Wormtail sat in the same place as before, in front of the gouged wall that Harry was so certain was part of the Shrieking Shack.

"I can see you've managed to locate Sirius," Wormtail said, "but did he bring the cloak?"

"We have it," Harry said, glancing over at Moody, who'd just limped into the office.

"Show me," Wormtail said, eyes brightening.

Harry held out a hand, and Ginny moved toward the cloak on the desk, only to be barred from it by Moody's scarred arm. Moody offered him a shimmering bundle. Harry moved to take it, a bit confused; it looked like his cloak, but wasn't. It was a bit smaller, a bit thinner, and the shimmer was slightly different, as were the patterns in the fabric. It looked like someone had tried to copy his cloak, and he was just cocking his head at Moody when understanding dawned.

"Here," Harry said, stepping back into sight of the mirror. He passed the cloak over his hands, so that Wormtail would be able to see them disappearing and reappearing. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody slipped out of the office, and Harry could hear them murmuring indistinctly in the corridor.

"Hold it up closer," he said. Harry was relieved Wormtail wasn't close enough to smell the deception; all he had to look at were their expressions and it was easy to keep his expression clear of anything but anger. Wormtail chewed his lip, looking between Harry, Padfoot and the cloak. "This all seems too easy." Padfoot swore at him.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked. Wormtail gave him a look that was almost fond, and seemed to relax.

"I'll show you," he said. "Just you, though." He gave Padfoot a stern look. "Bring the cloak, and meet me in the fourth floor corridor. There's a large vase about halfway along - I'll be waiting for-"

"Harry's not going anywhere near you," Padfoot said irritably. "I'll come, unarmed-"

"I won't be there, if it's you," Wormtail said, "or any of the other staff or students."

"Peter-"

"Don't be difficult, Sirius," Wormtail said, clicking his tongue. "Ron and Hermione won't thank you for it." He looked at Harry. "I'll see you when you get there."

The mirror went black.