There comes a moment in every young boy's life when he has to face some undeniable truths. Harry's moment came that very night when he woke to see a blurry figure reach up to the top of his closet and pick the jar out of the cloak.
"What are you doing?" Harry said, scrambling for his glasses. And had he not managed to put them on right before it happened he might not have believed his eyes. The man—one he had never before seen in his life—twisted around in surprise and turned into Scabbers. Which might have been fine had he not been holding Snape and his jar at that moment.
Scabbers came crashing down with a terrified squeal and Harry dove off his bed and caught the jar moments before it would have smashed into a million pieces on the stone floor, shouting, "No!"
The rat, who couldn't possibly be Scabbers, came tumbling down on him and he reacted.
Lights turned on and this is what his roommates saw: Scabbers, flying away from Harry, colliding with Ron's closet in a sickening crunch. No one noticed the jar Harry cradled in his arms.
"You…" Ron stuttered in disbelief, eyes wide as saucers on Harry. "You killed Scabbers…"
And then everyone was yelling it. Even shy Neville. They ran to the mangy rat, only to rear away again when he twisted back into the shape of a man.
Harry had the presence of mind to tuck the jar under his bed, and when Scabbers the Man groaned, he suddenly found his wand in his hand, waving it—flick, swish, swish, flick, and twirl—and shouting, "Stupefy!"
Scabbers groaned and flopped unconscious.
Ron twisted around. "You killed him again!"
Before Harry could refute that, their bedroom door opened and Percy Weasley, wearing a floppy nightcap, asked, "What's all this noise? You lot are waking the whole tower!"
"Harry killed Scabbers!" Ron shouted and pointed to the unconscious man. "Look!"
"That's not Scabbers," Percy said and frowned. He shook his head vigorously in an effort to wake up, not believing what he was seeing. "It's clearly a man, Ron. Why is—"
"No, it's Scabbers! First Harry turned him into a man and then he killed him!"
"He threw him first," Seamus corrected. "Into Ron's closet. I think I heard some bones crack."
Everyone turned to Harry.
He sat down on his bed.
It was clear to him now. He could not deny it any longer. Ron was never going to be his friend. No one sensible befriended pet murderers.
"He's not dead," Percy said, bending over Scabbers the Man to hold his hand next to his nose, feeling for his breath. He dispatched Dean to go call McGonagall before asking Harry, "What was the spell you used?"
"Stupefy…"
"Good job, that."
"Murderer!" Ron hissed.
"I just said he's not dead," Percy said, and with the ease of an older sibling, reached over Scabbers the Man, and cuffed Ron's ear.
"Ow! I'll tell Mum!" he wailed but he did settle down. "Can you change him back to Scabbers?"
"Are you sure he was your rat?"
Everyone nodded, including Harry, who sat trembling on his bed. Murderer. It didn't matter that Scabbers was alive, he had seen Ron's eyes. Kidnapper. Thief. Murderer.
"Whatever is going on here?" Professor McGonagall said from the doorway. She had to push a small crowd of students aside to enter, and Harry saw she wore a nightcap identical to Percy's. "Who's this man, Mr Weasley?"
"It's Scabbers," Ron wailed. "Harry tried to kill him!"
"The other Mr Weasley," McGonagall said.
Percy told her what he knew, standing up and pushing his chest out. He thought the man had attacked Harry, and said so, simply because he was a boy who would always think the best of other boys first.
Harry opened his mouth to refute him, but he wasn't given an opening. Everyone was talking at once, and no one listened.
McGonagall bent over Scabbers and pursed her lips. Then waved her wand. Harry's stomach turned, thinking she was going to revive him but three misty cats floated out of her wand and scampered off.
This caused another upsurge among the crowd and she turned to berate them, "Off with you lot! Back to bed this instant! This is not a cabaret for your pleasure!"
No one listened, and she started to take points. She was still at it when Professor Flitwick came, and the prefects were ordered to dispatch the crowd. Hot cocoa and sandwiches were organised for all and sundry, even the curious onlookers. Madam Pomfrey pitched up with the Auror Harry had seen earlier that day, gave the now trembling Harry one look, and told him to get in bed.
The Auror questioned Harry despite Madam Pomfey's clear irritation.
Harry tried but couldn't get his tongue to move, and his teeth rattled loud enough to hear them creak.
"Have you seen this man before?" the Auror asked.
He shook his head.
"You say he was Mr Weasley's rat?"
He nodded his head.
"What was he doing?"
He pointed to his closet, where his invisibility robe now hung in full view, and nodded when she asked if it was his.
"Good job on the stupefy," she praised and patted his head. "We'll make an Auror of you yet. Now, get to bed before Poppy kills me."
She decided it was best to remove the unconscious Scabbers as he was, for it was clearly only criminals that would venture into little boys' bedrooms in the middle of the night. Ron was taken away because it was his rat. Harry was given a Sleep-Ease and tucked into bed. He was asleep before he remembered Snape.
In the morning, there were more questions. From the students, everyone agog. Once from McGonagall, who said the Headmaster was still away. Another time from new Aurors, one who introduced himself as Moody. He had a crazy electric blue orb instead of an eye that rolled around, looking everywhere at once, and sent chills down Harry's spine.
Harry said nothing to anyone about Snape in his jar. No one thought he would have anything other than the cloak that could interest the ratman, and the cloak was already good gossip.
When he left McGonagall's office, he heard the one Auror tell the other. "That kid is guilty of something."
Scared witless, he took off at a run. Which was a shame, for if he had stayed a moment longer, he would have heard Moody shrug it off with a snort. "What kid isn't? Especially in Hogwarts."
Harry and Ron was not the only students that walked around with bleary eyes, but they certainly looked the worst of the lot, being the only ones not buzzing with excitement. Whenever anyone stopped him, Harry referred them to Ron. 'I don't know' was fast becoming his standard response, so much so that Draco started calling him the Boy-Who-Knew-Nothing. Apt, Harry thought, but not very inventive.
He managed to sneak some food and pumpkin juice to Snape, who was fine but hopping mad, and closed the lid without taking him out. He did not want to hear whatever he had to say.
Ron refused to hear his apologies. Which Harry thought was only fair. Even if he had not set out to kill Scabbers, and even though it wasn't his fault that Scabbers turned out to be an illegal animagus, he was, in some way, to blame for Ron losing his pet.
He wandered around the castle like a pale ghost, barely paying attention to what he was doing, listening to the words whispered in the halls. Pettigrew. Murderer. You-Know-Who. It was serious… And as it went when you lend your ears out and do not stop to ask for clarification, he took it all to heart, thinking every last word whispered was about him.
"Shock," Madam Pomfrey diagnosed and put him to bed in the infirmary, making him drink another Sleep-Ease despite his protests.