Chapter 4: The Marauder's Map, A Miniature Mutt, and Malfoy
Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent weeks searching for Scabbers, scouring the grounds for hours after class, not stopping even as the leaves began to change from the green of summer to the fiery hues of early October.
They found not a trace of the rat.
Harry could feel how much Ron missed Scabbers, waves of sorrow hitting him from all sides as they searched.
Harry felt emotions more keenly than ever these days, often overwhelmed by them.
He'd taken to spending as much time out of the castle as he could, joining Sneezy in the Forbidden Forest, reveling in the silence.
Ron and Hermione let him go alone, understanding that he needed time away. His friends had been saints over the past month, supporting him unconditionally.
There'd been some really bad days, days where the pain had been unimaginable.
Harry had missed four days of class in September, simply unable to get out of bed.
Isolde's entries had revealed that she'd experienced the same thing, spending the first six months after her thirteenth birthday enduring bouts of terrible agony. Harry knew that the pains would go away eventually, but that didn't make them any easier to bear.
Of course, his illness hadn't gone unnoticed. When Harry wouldn't get out of bed on September 7th, Neville had dragged him to the Hospital Wing, face pale with worry.
Harry had been in too much pain to walk, leaning heavily on the other boy, Ron trailing just behind them.
Madam Pomfrey had examined him for nearly an hour, finally declaring that he was suffering from Magical Maladaptation, prescribing bed rest and time away from classes.
Magical Maladaptation, which conveniently had symptoms quite similar to the effects of Empathetic Magical Development, was a rare disease that struck young Wizards who hadn't spent enough time around magic as children. A sudden influx of magic after years of living in the Muggle world caused headaches, fatigue, and dizziness, sometimes incapacitating the individual for days on end.
It often struck in the early teenage years, growing worse as the Wizard's magic began to develop more quickly. Madam Pomfrey assured him that any and all symptoms would abate by the time he turned fifteen. By that age, all magical development would have ceased.
Harry was endlessly grateful that such a condition existed. It was the perfect cover, allowing him to take days off when he needed them without revealing his secret.
Harry wasn't the only one struggling with his health. Professor Lupin had been looking thinner and paler lately, disappearing for nearly four days at the end of September.
Harry hoped it wasn't anything serious.
He'd grown close to Professor Lupin over the past month, spending most of his Saturdays with the man, drinking tea and listening to stories about his parents.
He'd learned so much about Lily and James Potter, listening with rapt attention as Professor Lupin recounted tales of James' chaotic exploits and Lily's fiery temper.
He now knew that his mother had liked to put tiny gold stars on her assignments, missing the stickers from Muggle school. He learned that her sixth year Potions project had revolved around making flowers turn into tiny animals. He learned that she'd kept a fairy garden near Hagrid's hut, transfiguring buttons and hair clips into miniature furniture.
He learned that his father had been addicted to tea, always wanting to try a new exotic flavor.
Just a few days ago, Harry learned that James had developed an obsession with Muggle books, falling in love with Jane Austen of all authors. It had been a source of great shame for James, completely inconsistent with his image. Nevertheless, James had been enthralled. Apparently, he'd felt that Lily was the Elizabeth to his Darcy, thinking that he'd find some clue to winning her by reading the book over and over again.
"Who was the Mr. Collins in his analogy?" Harry asked, smiling as he remembered the bumbling preacher who'd been so thoroughly rebuffed by Elizabeth.
Harry had read Pride and Prejudice many times, managing to sneak a copy of it into his cupboard, reading it aloud to Alistair during a particularly rainy summer, tripping over the unfamiliar words.
He'd been desperate for entertainment during that summer, willing to read absolutely anything if it meant a break from the hours of staring at the empty darkness of his cupboard. He'd forced the grille open from the inside, holding the book to the fragmented beams of light, whispering the words out loud, trying to paint the pictures in his head.
"You've read it?" Remus asked, clearly surprised.
Harry nodded, cheeks heating a bit.
"Aunt Petunia picked it for a book club once. She thought it seemed impressive. She didn't actually read it, but I did."
Remus smiled.
"Have you read her other work?"
Harry shook his head.
His book selection had been highly limited. He'd been stuck with Pride and Prejudice and a torn copy of Charlotte's Web, reading them both so many times that he'd nearly memorized them.
"Would you like to?" Remus asked, moving to his bookshelf.
Harry nodded eagerly.
He liked the way Jane Austen wrote, describing everyday life like it was an adventure, gilding the mundane with the golden sparkle of intrigue. The prose had been difficult for him as a child, but he'd liked the rhythm of it, words marching on in lilting order.
"Here," Remus said, pulling a book off the shelf.
"This one was your mother's favorite."
Harry traced the title: Sense and Sensibility.
"It's a story about two sisters. Lily always wanted her relationship with Petunia to be more like the one between Elinor and Marianne."
Harry had taken the book reverently, placing it in his bag and bringing it out onto the grounds.
He'd read the first chapter to Sneezy, watching as the dog's eyes started to drift closed.
Harry laughed.
"Are you tired?"
Sneezy nodded, eyelids flickering.
"Well, you can go to sleep. I'm going to look more at this map Fred and George gave me."
Harry pulled the old parchment from his bag, smoothing it out in his lap. The twins had given it to him the day after Scabbers had disappeared, showing him how to use it. He'd been shocked that the twins wanted him to keep it.
Fred and George had decided that they were beyond using pranking aids at this point, wanting to rely on just their instincts. Harry suspected that Gryffindor would lose hundreds of points as a result of their choice, but he wasn't about to turn up his nose at such a brilliant tool.
He'd had it for almost three weeks, but he was only just beginning to uncover its secrets. He wanted to know how to edit it, noticing several inaccuracies. The Chamber of Secrets was completely missing. The map also didn't extend past Hagrid's hut, meaning that anyone in the forest was completely untraceable.
"I solemnly swear that I am…."
Harry stopped speaking, feeling Sneezy's emotions go suddenly fierce with sadness and longing.
"It's just a map, Sneezy," Harry soothed, reaching out to pet the dog.
Sneezy didn't seem to hear him, eyes fixed on the parchment.
This happened sometimes.
Sneezy would freeze up, eyes clouding over, breathing speeding up.
Harry didn't know what was happening, but he wished he knew how to help. He shoved the map back into his bag, showing Sneezy his empty hands.
"It's gone, okay? It's gone."
In the three days since that incident, Harry had begun leaving the map in his dormitory every time he went to see Sneezy, not wanting to spook the dog again.
Harry would never do anything to hurt Sneezy.
Sneezy was the one (not) person he could trust to keep his secrets. He'd told the dog almost everything about the Dursleys, having to pause sometimes when Sneezy would growl or bite at the empty air. He'd even told him about being an Empath, showing him Isolde's book.
Sneezy would sit next to him as he read, eyes moving as if he was following along.
Harry knew he wasn't.
Dogs couldn't read. Not even magical ones.
…
The first Monday of October dawned wet and cold, streaks of rain pounding against the windows of Gryffindor Tower.
Harry was looking forward to seeing Professor Lupin in class, hoping he was fully recovered from his illness.
Harry's hopes were dashed when he entered the classroom to find Snape standing at Professor Lupin's desk, regarding them all with a ruthless glint in his eyes.
Harry sighed quietly, knowing he was in for a rough lesson.
Harry's relationship with Snape had only grown worse in the month he'd been back at Hogwarts.
The man seemed to think he was faking his illness in order to get out of classes. Harry felt a bit guilty. After all, he technically was faking. He wasn't actually ill, just afflicted with a terribly rare and highly volatile form of magic.
Snape kept refusing to accept his late work, giving him zeroes and taking points. Professor McGonagall had intervened on his behalf several times, but Snape never changed his behavior.
It was frustrating.
The Defense lesson was even worse than Harry had expected. Professor Snape completely ignored Professor Lupin's lesson plans, instead telling them to turn to the final chapter of their books. The chapter on Werewolves.
"Werewolves are among the most dangerous creatures to walk the earth," Snape said coolly.
"If you were ever to meet one, the best course of action would be to kill it, saving yourself and ridding the world of a monster in the process."
Snape continued, voice full of malice.
"Unfortunately, it is near impossible to identify a Werewolf among the population. They are perfectly healthy until just before the rise of the full moon, exhibiting no characteristics that could distinguish them from a normal Wizard."
Hermione's hand shot into the air.
"Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"What about Werewolves who take the Wolfsbane Potion?"
Snape sighed in exasperation, looking bored.
"That Potion is highly expensive and very difficult to brew. For the few Werewolves that manage to take it, the Potion acts as a poison to the Wolf, damaging the Wizard's health as well."
Snape's emotions were strangely gleeful as he said that last sentence.
Snape continued his tirade against Werewolves for the rest of the period, spewing vitriol at them as if it was somehow useful information. His hatred hung about the room like mist, filling Harry's ears with a strange high-pitched ringing sound.
Harry was beyond relieved when the class ended, racing out of the room.
He'd barely made it through the door when someone stuck their leg out, catching Harry off guard and sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Watch where you're going, Potter," Malfoy said gleefully, watching as Harry clambered back to his feet.
"You watch where you're going, Malfoy," Ron retorted, moving forward to stand beside Harry.
"Make me, Weasley."
"Just back off, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, crossing her arms across her chest.
Malfoy sneered at them, gray eyes dancing dangerously.
"I doubt you'd be so brave without your little friends, Potter."
"I could say the same for you," Harry replied evenly, gesturing to Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy seemed to have no reply for that, giving them one last glare before stalking away.
"What's his problem?" Ron asked, staring after Malfoy.
Malfoy had been far worse than usual lately, insults growing fouler, words growing sharper.
The boy was still furious about the incident in Care of Magical Creatures, seeming to share Snape's theory that Harry had only saved him in order to play the hero.
Harry didn't understand why they were both so determined to think the worst of him.
Malfoy had always been more bark than bite, but lately he'd strayed into physical attacks: tripping Harry in the halls, slamming into him whenever he walked by.
Harry hadn't told anyone.
Ron and Hermione hadn't witnessed the worst of it, only knowing of the insults and the occasional attempted trip.
Harry didn't feel the need to tell them. He'd been through far worse than this. Malfoy had nothing on Dudley.
Looking back, Harry really should have told them.
Perhaps they could have stopped what was coming.
After classes that day, Harry headed to the kitchens, intending to get some food for Sneezy before heading out onto the grounds. Harry loved visiting the kitchens, enamored with the House-elves. They were always so kind to him, asking about his day and offering him tea.
They'd even started making Sneezy-specific packages for him, including bones and meat. A package was always waiting for Harry when he arrived, usually accompanied by a slice of treacle tart.
Harry had just turned the corner leading to the kitchens when he stopped, attention suddenly caught by a flicker of anticipation, of loathing, of…
"Expelliarmus."
Harry's wand flew from his hand, sailing right in Draco Malfoy's fist.
"You've been coming down here a lot lately, Potter," Malfoy sneered.
"You've been following me?" Harry asked incredulously.
Even for Malfoy that was a bit extreme.
Malfoy stepped forward, Crabbe and Goyle shadowing him as they always did.
Harry noticed the two larger boys beginning to inch around him, boxing him in.
This was not good.
"I wanted to test a theory, Potter."
Malfoy moved closer to him.
"You see, I don't understand how someone so brave could be afraid of something as ordinary as a cupboard. I wanted to see if you really are as brave as they all say."
Harry's heart began to pound.
He knew where this was going.
He tried to make a run for it, but two large bodies stopped him, hands wrapping around his arms and dragging him down the hallway.
"Malfoy," Harry started, trying to talk his way out of this.
"You don't have to do this."
Malfoy laughed.
"You don't understand, Potter. I want to do this."
Malfoy wrenched open the door of a tiny broom cupboard, watching with malicious delight as Crabbe and Goyle shoved Harry inside.
It was even smaller than his cupboard.
"Think of this as payback for what you did to my father, Potter," Malfoy spat, slamming the door and locking it with a spell.
"No one interferes with a Malfoy and gets away with it."
Harry heard their footsteps growing fainter, panic descending upon him like a cloak.
It was far too small in here.
Harry pounded on the door.
"Hello!" he called, voice shaking.
"Hello!"
His hands were trembling badly, lungs tightening from panic.
It was far too small in here.
"Let me out! Please…"
Harry's breath caught in his throat, fists falling away from the door.
"Please," he whispered.
Ron and Hermione thought he was on a walk. No one would come looking for him.
He was trapped.
Harry sank to his knees in the tiny space, gasping for breath. His chest was tight, lungs aching.
He couldn't breathe.
Harry didn't know how long he sat there, choking on panic, unable to hear or think. After a while he simply slumped onto his side, curling into a ball on the floor of the cupboard.
He imagined that Alistair was with him, spinning webs in the corner like he always did. Harry kept his eyes shut, knowing that if he opened them he would see that Alistair wasn't with him.
"Is that someone's wand?"
A voice shattered the silence, drowning out Harry's ragged breathing.
He pulled himself into a sitting position and reached out a trembling hand to tap on the door of the cupboard.
"Merlin, is someone in there?"
"Quick, Cho, open the door."
He heard a whispered spell before the door swung open.
"Are you okay?"
Harry felt his cheeks catch on fire as he came face to face with his savior: Cho Chang.
She was very pretty, making Harry exceedingly nervous with her dark hair and sparkling eyes.
This was beyond embarrassing.
"I'm fine," Harry said quietly, taking Cho's offered hand and letting himself be dragged out of the cupboard.
Cho handed him his wand, concern flickering around her. Harry knew he must look bad. His whole body was still trembling slightly, stress running through his blood.
"Did someone lock you in there?"
Harry turned his head to look at the other girl, noting her Hufflepuff robes.
Harry shrugged, not wanting to talk about this.
The Hufflepuff girl gave him a hard look, eyes narrowing.
"I think we should take him to Professor Sprout."
Harry didn't know why they would do that. He wasn't even a Hufflepuff.
"I really don't think…"
"It'll help, Harry. Trust me."
Cho looked so genuine, eyes sparkling with kindness, emotions glittering around her like fairy dust, gentle and bright.
"Alright."
Harry let himself be led down the hall to Professor Sprout's office, heart still beating a bit too fast.
Cho knocked, stepping back as Professor Sprout opened the door. The kind Professor looked down at Harry, emotions growing deeply concerned.
He really must look a mess.
"Thank you for bringing him, dears," Professor Sprout said, smiling at the two girls.
"I can take it from here."
Professor Sprout beckoned him into her office. Harry entered, jaw dropping as he took in the strangest yet most wonderful room he'd ever seen.
The office was far bigger than Harry had expected, probably larger than the Gryffindor Common Room. One half was a traditional office: a desk piled with parchment, squashy armchairs circled about a small table, a pot of tea steaming atop a conjured flame.
The other half was bizarrely beautiful: hosts of fuzzy bean bag chairs scattered about like dropped buttons, fluffy blankets draped randomly across surfaces, glowing balls of rainbow light floating in the air.
Professor Sprout laughed at his reaction, leading him over to one of the bean bag chairs and gesturing for him to sit down.
Harry did so, sinking deep into the cloud-like material.
"This is my little passion project, Harry. When I first began teaching here, I noticed that students didn't have a place to simply relax, de-stress, unwind. I wanted somewhere for anyone feeling homesick, anxious, overwhelmed, upset, you name it, to come and feel safe. It's frequented by members of all houses, though not known to many. My Hufflepuffs look out for people in need and bring them here."
Harry couldn't believe such a place existed. It was wonderful.
"Anyway, it's open at all times, to all people. Professor Babbling put a rather clever intent-based Ward on my office door so only those who truly need to be here can enter. I don't want it getting overcrowded."
She smiled gently at him.
"I'll never ask what brings you here, but I'm here to talk if you would like."
Harry nodded his understanding but said nothing. He didn't want to talk about it.
Professor Sprout smiled at him, moving to the door.
"Feel free to stay here for as long as you need, dear. I'm going to head up to watch the Frog Choir Rehearsal. I rather love listening to them practice."
Professor Sprout left the room, leaving Harry alone in this strangely calming place. The tranquil atmosphere was helping, evening out his breathing and slowing the pounding of his heart.
Harry lifted his wrist to check his watch, surprised to find that it was already seven.
He'd missed dinner.
Ron and Hermione were probably going mad with worry.
Normally, Harry would have rushed to them, abandoning this tiny slice of paradise in favor of reassuring his friends. But he was just too tired.
He leaned back into the bean bag, marveling at how soft it was. He'd just gotten settled when a soft yellow blanket came flying toward him, settling onto his lap of its own accord.
Magic was so strange sometimes.
Harry's eyes were beginning to drift shut when the door burst open, an extremely flustered Cedric Diggory stumbling into the room. He didn't seem to notice Harry, moving to a red bean bag and collapsing into it, head in his hands.
Harry didn't know what to do.
Should he say something?
Before Harry could decide, Cedric looked up, catching sight of him.
"Hello, Harry," he said, voice strained.
His emotions were whirling around him like a cyclone: anxiety and disappointment and anger.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, highly concerned by the emotions sparking around the other boy like forks of lightning.
Cedric sighed, glancing nervously at Harry.
"I...It's just a fight with my Dad. It's stupid."
Harry leaned forward, trying to show Cedric that he was willing to listen.
"I'm sure it's not stupid, Cedric."
Cedric twisted his hands together, tension clear in every line of his face.
"He just...he wants me to come work for him at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures after Hogwarts, and I just…"
"You don't want that."
Cedric shook his head.
"I've been too afraid to tell him, you know? He's had this dream of us working together for years. But it's OWL year, and I finally wrote to him and told him that I want to be a Healer instead. I just got a letter back. Well, a Howler, actually."
Cedric's emotions flickered, sadness overwhelming him.
"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.
Cedric shrugged.
"It'll be alright. Mum will mediate like she always does. It's just...Dad has all these expectations for me: what I should study, where I should work, who I should be friends with..."
Cedric trailed off.
"It's just...it gets to be a bit much sometimes."
Harry guessed expectations were like a cupboard for Cedric, keeping him locked in tight.
"What about you, Harry? Are you okay?"
Harry bit his lip, debating whether to share. Cedric had been so open with him. Maybe he should return the favor.
"I...um...I got locked in a cupboard this afternoon."
"What? What happened?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Someone locked me in."
"Why?"
Harry glanced at Cedric, feeling the way his emotions were shifting into anger and protectiveness.
"They knew it was my boggart," Harry whispered.
"Who was it?" Cedric demanded.
Harry shook his head.
"I really don't…"
"Who was it?"
Harry sighed, knowing that Cedric wasn't going to let this go.
"Draco Malfoy."
Cedric frowned.
"Why would he do that?"
Harry shrugged.
"He's always hated me, but things have been worse this year. I may have...uh...freed one of the Malfoy House-elves last June."
Cedric gaped at him.
"However did you manage that?"
Harry didn't know how it happened, but he ended up explaining the entire chain of events that had led to him fighting a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
"You got bitten?" Cedric asked, eyes wide.
"Yep," Harry said, gesturing to his right arm.
"Dumbledore's Phoenix saved me. It was pretty close though."
Cedric looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.
"How are you so calm about this? You could have died! You almost died!"
Harry didn't have an answer. In truth, he wasn't really all that calm about it. He still dreamt of the Basilisk, remembering the final moments, remembering his vision fading in and out, remembering the terrible pain.
He just didn't like to show how much it bothered him, preferring to brush it off as an adventure rather than a near-death experience.
"It's not the first time I've almost died," Harry offered in explanation, immediately cursing himself as Cedric's emotions began swirling faster.
"Explain."
And Harry did, giving in to the strange urge he had to trust Cedric Diggory, to confide in him.
He explained the Philosopher's Stone, Fluffy, Quirrell, and Voldemort.
"You-Know-Who is dead though, isn't he?"
Harry shook his head.
"He's not. He's definitely not dead."
Cedric looked frozen, face going pale.
"Merlin…"
"Don't worry," Harry reassured.
"He's just a weird pathetic ghost blob right now."
Cedric turned to stare at him, raising an eyebrow, emotions flickering with mirth.
"A weird pathetic ghost blob? Is that the technical term?"
Harry blushed.
"Yes. That's the technical term."
Cedric laughed.
Harry grinned at the sound.
Cedric grinned back, glancing at his watch, surprise spreading across his face.
"It's nearly nine!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"We have to go! I have patrol in five minutes!"
They made a mad dash through the castle, Harry struggling to keep up with Cedric's much longer strides. Cedric was nearly sixteen and was quite a bit taller than Harry.
They parted ways at the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry steeling himself for the lecture he was surely about to receive from Hermione.
Sure enough, Ron and Hermione were both furious with him, berating him for missing dinner and failing to contact anyone.
"We would've gone to McGonagall, but we could see you on the map. Why were you with Cedric Diggory?"
Harry shrugged.
"We were just talking."
Harry didn't want to tell them about the whole cupboard incident. He wouldn't put it past them to track down Malfoy and curse him into oblivion. He didn't want to see his friends in detention this early in the school year.
Once Ron and Hermione had finished their lecture, the trio set to work on their homework, filling in Rune translations until they couldn't see straight.
That night, Harry settled into bed with Isolde's journal, barely making it through three pages before he fell asleep.
...
Harry jerked awake, heart pounding.
Something was wrong.
He could feel murderous emotions flickering in the air: hatred and terrible anger. There was something highly unstable about the feelings, manic and confused.
Harry quickly grabbed his glasses and wand from the bedside table, casting a quick Lumos and scanning the room.
At first, he saw nothing.
Then, he spotted it: a wand, Neville's wand, floating in the air, moving toward him.
Harry was simply frozen for a moment, too confused to process what was happening.
Then, the wand pointed right at him.
Harry dove to the side, falling to the floor as he just barely avoided the flash of pale red light that beamed toward him.
He could hear the other boys waking up, sheets rustling as they were pulled from sleep by the noise.
Another jet of light flew toward Harry, barely missing his head. Harry didn't know where to aim a disarming charm, unable to see the invisible figure. He cast wildly, desperately, failing to make contact.
Harry tried to dodge all the blasts of light, but he undershot one of them, feeling a terrible burning pain explode along his left side as the spell hit. Harry dropped his wand, letting it roll away from him, wincing as he pressed a hand to his ribs, wetness spreading along his fingers.
"Oi! Get away from him!"
Ron Weasley, resplendent in orange Chudley Cannons pajamas, darted right in front of Harry, raising his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" Ron yelled, somehow succeeding in hitting the figure, Neville's wand flying into the air.
"HA!" Ron cried.
"Take that!"
The invisible figure was impossible to track without the wand, but Harry saw his own wand begin to move, invisible fingers wrapping around it.
"Ron," Harry warned, suddenly feeling very nervous.
But something changed as the invisible figure turned its wand on Ron. There was a flash of compassion, of familiarity, of affection.
Before Harry could contemplate what that meant, the figure darted away, door slamming behind it, Harry's wand clutched tightly in its hand.
"Harry, mate, are you alright?"
Harry didn't know. He moved his hand away from his side, hissing at the jagged pain. Ron lit his wand, shedding light on Harry's ribs, gasping as he took in the blood that was quickly spreading.
"Neville," Ron said, suddenly sounding panicked.
"Go get Pomfrey. Right now."
Neville moved away, running from the room.
"Dean, Seamus, can one of you bring me a...shirt or something?"
Seamus brought over a t-shirt, face going pale as he looked at the blood beginning to spread onto the stone floor of the dormitory.
Ron pressed the shirt against Harry's ribs, pushing hard.
"Ow," Harry muttered.
"Shut up, Harry," Ron said, voice shaking.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Dean asked.
"Who the bloody hell was that?"
"I'll bet it was Sirius Black," Ron growled.
"Who else would try to murder Harry in the middle of the night?"
...
As it turned out, it had been Sirius Black.
The man had managed to get his hands on one of the Invisibility Potions that the Seventh Years had made in preparation for their NEWTs, taking it and lingering by the Portrait Hole until he learned the password. He'd waited until one in the morning to break in, stealing Neville's wand and going for Harry.
The Fat Lady had confirmed the figure's identity.
"Told me, he did!" she exclaimed.
"Told me that he was Sirius Black!"
Harry found it a bit odd that the man would willingly give up his identity like that. Then again, he was insane.
Harry was still in the Hospital Wing two days after the incident, thick bandages wrapped around his chest.
He'd been hit with a Severing Charm, losing quite a lot of blood before Madam Pomfrey had arrived.
The injury was not Harry's only problem. He'd lost two important objects that night: his wand and the Marauder's Map.
The figure must have taken the Map from his bag before he'd woken up, stowing it away in an invisible pocket. Harry had never been more grateful that he slept with the Invisibility Cloak under his pillow. He didn't think he could have handled losing that too.
Harry was already devastated by the loss of his wand.
It'd been his first truly magical possession.
And now it was gone.
Harry didn't know what he was going to do. He didn't know if he'd ever find another wand that spoke to him in the same way the Phoenix feather wand did.
Harry was wallowing in his sadness over losing his wand, staring out at the afternoon sky, when Professor Lupin came to see him.
Harry sat up, overjoyed to see his professor looking better.
"Professor! Are you alright? Are you still ill?"
Professor Lupin rolled his eyes in fond amusement.
"You're the one in the Hospital Wing, Harry."
"Right," Harry said, grinning sheepishly.
Professor Lupin sank down into the chair next to Harry's bed, watching him closely.
"I'm very sorry about what happened, Harry. I'm sure it must have been terrifying."
Harry looked down at his blanket, twisting a loose thread between his fingers.
"I just...I don't understand it."
Professor Lupin's emotions flickered.
"What don't you understand?"
Harry shifted.
"After he took my wand, he was about to hurt Ron, but he just...didn't. He just left."
Professor Lupin said nothing.
"And he took the map too! And I don't know…"
"He took what?"
Professor Lupin's voice was suddenly sharp, emotions edged with panic.
"It's just this map of Hogwarts that I have. It shows…"
"The Marauder's Map?"
"You know it?" Harry asked.
Professor Lupin nodded.
"I do."
Professor Lupin was barely containing his panic, emotions battering at Harry, clamoring for his attention.
"So, you're telling me that Sirius Black now has a wand AND a sure way to find you? Wherever you might be?"
Harry nodded.
"But Professor…."
Harry trailed off, not knowing how to say this.
"It doesn't make sense. None of it makes any sense."
Professor Lupin paused.
"What do you mean?"
"Why didn't he kill me? Why did he tell the Fat Lady his name? Why did he break in at all? Why not wait until I left the castle?"
Professor Lupin's face grew stony.
"I don't pretend to understand the way Black's mind works."
Harry was shocked by the venom in Professor Lupin's words, even more shocked by the deep sorrow that lay just beneath them.
"You need to be careful, Harry. Professor Dumbledore is increasing security, but you have to watch yourself. Don't go anywhere alone. Promise me, Harry."
"I promise," Harry whispered, wondering how he could continue to visit Sneezy with everyone watching him like a hawk.
Harry tried to calm Professor Lupin down by asking him a question about the Defense homework, intense relief coursing through him as the man's emotions quieted.
His professor was just finishing up an in-depth discussion of Hinkypunks when Professor Dumbledore strode into the Hospital Wing, followed closely by…
"Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked, shocked.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," the old man said, conjuring another chair and settling into it.
"I heard about the fate of your wand. Dreadful shame."
Harry couldn't agree more.
"Since you had such a rare match the first time, I simply had to be involved in finding the perfect wand for you. I brought a few options with me, some of which have been with my family for centuries."
Harry was a bit touched by the man's concern with finding him a new wand, watching as Ollivander pulled a velvet bag from his pocket. Harry gaped in amazement as the bag expanded in size, growing until it nearly reached the floor.
"I hope you don't mind if I observe, Harry," Professor Dumbldore said, conjuring a large purple armchair and sinking into it.
"I've always been rather fascinated with wands."
"Of course, sir. I don't mind," Harry reassured, trying to ignore the twinge of wariness he felt around Dumbledore.
Ron and Hermione's words on the train had stuck with him, sowing doubts deep into his head.
Olivander rummaged around in the bag for a few moments, pulling out a wand that looked very similar to Harry's old one.
"This is holly and Thestral hair. Rather rare combination. Been in my family's possession since the year 933 if you would believe it! It originally belonged to a very odd man by the name of Hektor. We don't know much else about him. Go on, give it a wave."
Harry waved the wand, wincing as his glass of water burst into flames.
"No!" Olivander exclaimed, snatching the wand away.
"Definitely not."
He pulled out another wand, holding it out to Harry.
"Holly and Griffin claw. Very odd wand. Never met a person who could match it."
This time, Harry's water glass exploded, translucent dust falling to the ground.
"Absolutely not," Ollivander said, whipping the wand away from him.
He reached into the bag once more, pulling out a very pale wand.
"This is elder and Phoenix feather. Only combination of that type I've ever come across. It last belonged to a member of the Peverell family sometime around the middle of the 13th century."
Harry's heart stopped.
A member of the Peverell family. The middle of the 13th century.
This might be Isolde's wand.
Harry reached for it, skin buzzing as he touched the wood.
"Go on," Olivander urged.
"Give it a wave."
Harry did, feeling a rush of pure power course down his arm.
Glimmering lights filled the Hospital wing, gold and silver swirling in intricate patterns.
"I think we've got it!" Olivander exclaimed, beaming.
"I'd wager it's an even better match than your last wand!"
Dumbledore's emotions flickered strangely at that, something like confusion filling the room.
"I can't wait to see what you do with this wand, Mr. Potter! The combination of elder and Phoenix feather suggests high levels of magical power and sensitivity."
The man continued to prattle on about greatness and odd combinations, only stopping when Dumbledore invited him up to his office for a cup of tea.
Harry twirled the wand in his fingers, marveling at how good it felt.
Professor Lupin sat with him for the rest of the afternoon and evening, helping him complete his homework. The man seemed almost scared to leave him alone, looking at Harry like he was about to disappear.
When Harry was released on Thursday morning, he immediately set about solving his Sneezy problem.
He didn't want to break his promise to Professor Lupin by going alone, but he also couldn't afford to stop seeing Sneezy.
The dog meant too much to him.
The idea struck him suddenly: if he couldn't go to Sneezy, he would have to bring Sneezy to him.
He rushed down to the kitchens after classes, wand held at the ready just in case Malfoy tried anything.
Harry didn't think he would. Cedric had reported Malfoy's actions, resulting in a loss of 200 points for Slytherin and two weeks of detention for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Malfoy hadn't so much as looked at Harry since then.
Harry tickled the pear, grabbing the door knob and practically tumbling into the kitchens.
"Master Harry!"
"We is having your doggy package all ready."
"Lots of lovely meats today! We hopes Master Sneezy will appreciate it."
Harry smiled at the elves, thanking them profusely.
"Actually," he said, glancing around at the elves.
"I was wondering if you knew of a place where I could keep Sneezy. Somewhere in the castle."
He was surprised by the speed of their answer.
"Use the Come and Go Room, sir! It will be perfect for Master Sneezy."
Harry left the kitchens, armed with instructions for finding and using the Come and Go Room. He found it easily enough, laughing at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach Trolls ballet.
He paced thrice before the blank wall, asking for a place to keep a dog where no one would be able to find him.
A door appeared in the wall, opening to reveal a cozy space complete with dog bed, various toys, and even a collar embossed with 'Sneezy'.
Harry grinned. This was perfect.
The only challenge would be getting Sneezy there.
The dog was far too large for Harry to carry. But maybe…
Harry remembered the Shrinking Solution from Potions class. Maybe he could shrink Sneezy and carry him to the Come and Go Room under the Invisibility Cloak.
It took a week for Harry to be ready to execute his plan–sneaking away to brew a batch of Shrinking Solution proved highly difficult when everyone was watching his every move.
Once the Potion was ready, Harry tried to sneak out of the castle, failing miserably when Cedric spotted the Portrait Hole opening and closing by itself. He'd forgotten that Cedric was assigned to the Gryffindor hallway at this time of night, cursing himself for being so stupid.
"I know that's you, Harry," Cedric said, glaring at the spot where Harry stood.
"Come out from under there."
Harry pulled off the cloak, blushing furiously.
"What do you think you're doing?" Cedric demanded.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed."
Harry shook his head.
"No, I just…"
"You just what?"
Harry took a step back, alarmed by Cedric's anger.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Cedric sighed, gray eyes softening.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt again."
Harry didn't know what to do.
He had to go get Sneezy. He hadn't been able to see the dog in several days, and he was worried about him.
"Listen, Cedric. I appreciate the concern, but I really have to do something on the grounds. Please."
Cedric frowned for a moment, conflicted emotions drifting around him.
"I'm coming with you," he said.
Cedric wouldn't take no for an answer, joining Harry under the Cloak and following him onto the grounds. Harry entered the clearing where Sneezy always was, dreading Cedric's reaction.
He pulled off the cloak, turning to the older boy.
"I know it's against like a billion school rules, but this is really important to me, okay? Please don't tell anyone else."
Cedric looked right at him, emotions steady and sure.
"I won't."
"Sneezy!" Harry called, watching as the familiar brown and white dog bounded out of the trees, tongue dangling from his mouth.
The dog froze upon catching sight of Cedric, panic flickering around him.
"Don't worry," Harry said, kneeling down.
"Cedric is safe."
Sneezy hesitantly moved forward, allowing Harry to stroke his soft ears.
"Listen, Sneezy. We have to move you into the castle. I'm not allowed outside anymore. Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower, and I'm…"
Confusion, panic, anger, fear, desperation.
The emotions hit so hard that Harry doubled over, pressing his hands against his eyes.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Cedric asked, touching his shoulder.
"Fine," Harry gasped, looking up.
"Just a headache."
Cedric accepted that explanation easily. After all, most of the school knew about Harry's supposed Magical Maladaptation.
Sneezy had mixed feelings about Harry's plan, but the dog allowed himself to be shrunk, drinking the Potion without complaint.
Harry picked up the miniature Sneezy, laughing at the tiny version of his companion.
"You look so cute."
Sneezy growled at him, only succeeding in making Harry laugh harder.
Harry and Cedric got Sneezy settled in his new room, watching as the (still tiny) dog explored the space.
"The Potion will wear off in a hour," Harry reassured Sneezy, hoping the dog didn't think Harry would leave him in this state.
"And don't worry about the room. Someone would have to specifically ask to see you in order for them to open the door. You'll be safe here."
The room also hadn't been on the Marauder's Map, making Harry even more certain that no one would find Sneezy's hideaway.
The dog moved over to Harry, nuzzling at his fingers with his tiny nose, gratitude filling the air.
"You're welcome, Sneezy," Harry whispered, leaving the dog to get some rest.
As they walked away from the Come and Go Room, Cedric turned to Harry, a smile playing over his lips.
"Why do I feel like being your friend will be the most interesting thing to ever happen to me?"
Harry just smiled, warmed by the fact that Cedric had just called him a friend.
A/N: Hello, friends!
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Chapter 5 is coming on Tuesday and will feature Harry's less than pleasant reaction to Dumbledore's increased security, a rather unfortunate Quidditch match, and the most ambitious Runes project to ever grace Hogwarts. See y'all then :)