He woke with a start before he could see the outcome of his dream and was a little surprised by the sheer relief that swamped him on finding that his aunt, uncle and cousin were (as far as he knew) still alive and well. How odd, thought Harry. He turned to look at his companions.

Hermione had slumped onto Ron's shoulder and looked asleep: Ron was awake and seemed highly uncomfortable with the situation, as one shoulder was now considerably lower than the other and he was having to shrug the other one higher and higher to compensate for this. But he did not wake Hermione, and, as he caught Harry's eye, he winked. Harry felt something die inside him. What if his friends were killed? he thought. And perhaps they worst thing was that he knew if they were they wouldn't blame him. It wasn't fair.

Sirius was resting against one of the walls talking in a low voice to Hagrid. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying – but he didn't try to listen, because at that moment his attention was distracted by Snape. The Potions master was sitting with his back leant against the wall and his head resting on his knees, looking at least as bad as Harry felt. He watched him curiously.

The man kept sneaking little half-glances up at Lupin, and wincing every time he howled. Harry felt vaguely surprised by the distress on his face. At each howl, an extra notch of desperation was added to his countenance: it seemed as though any minute he would –

"Silence!" he roared suddenly, glaring at the wolf with curiously wide eyes, and waking Hermione from her slumber.

"'E can't hear yeh, Professor," said Hagrid, regarding Lupin's wolf-form fondly. "'E's a wolf."

Snape turned to the gamekeeper savagely. "He isn't a wolf," he snarled. "He's a monster. And he will stop that howling…" He took a step towards the chained wolf. Hagrid's expression changed in an instant.

"Wolves howl, Professor. It's what they do," said Hermione nervously. "Even werewolves. It's natural."

"You'd howl if you were chained up there like that," added Ron – but very quietly.

"But he's not natural!" shouted Snape, taking another stride forwards, quite oblivious to both Hagrid and Sirius's rapidly darkening faces. He drew his wand, and pointed it at Lupin. "A muzzle…" he said. Sparks flew from the stick he held in his hand, but no muzzle appeared: Lupin's howls grew deeper at this and quite suddenly Snape hurled the wand from him, striking the animal just above its lip. This resulted in a very surprised looking wolf: for a moment, the howls ceased, to be replaced by a quiet little whimper and a reproachful glare from the big yellow eyes – and then Hagrid was there. He charged at Snape, his huge hands clasped round the man's throat, and the Potions master clucked and scrabbled at his neck, obviously asphyxiating.

"Leave 'im alone!" the giant roared. "Sweet little wolf – 'e ain't done anything to yeh – "

Quickly, Sirius snatched Hermione's wand from out of her hand and pointed it at Hagrid, just before he squeezed Snape's neck too hard.

"Stupefy!" he roared, and Hagrid slumped to the floor like a two tonne sack of frog liver. Snape collapsed at the same time, fingers clutching feverishly at his throat as he apparently tried to reassure himself that it was still there, and croaking: no one moved to help him. Sirius looked sadly down at Hagrid.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "But I'd hate to see you get into trouble because of him." He spat the last word out. Pointing Hermione's wand at Hagrid, he gave a flick of his wrist. "Mobilicorpus," he said.

But instead of getting up, as Harry and the others had expected him to, Hagrid stayed where he was: after looking at Hermione's wand in alarm for a second, Sirius swiftly knelt down and rolled the giant onto his side, examining his head. After two minutes almost static with worry, he looked back up again, relieved.

"He's OK," he said. "Must've knocked himself out on the floor. He'll come round in a minute. Maybe it would – er – best to leave him for a moment… just in case he decides to defend Remus again…"

Harry had to agree. Like Sirius, he didn't want Snape making life hard for Hagrid when – if – they ever escaped from the dungeon.

"What about him?" asked Ron, waving at Snape. The Potions master was still recumbent on the ground, having difficulties breathing. He seemed winded. "Hadn't we better – y'know – do something?" He flapped a vague hand.

For a moment, Sirius looked inclined to say no, but then stepped forwards reluctantly. However, he didn't reach the prone man: a soft groan alerted the four members of the company that still remained upright that Lupin was returning to his human form. The hair on his face and arms grew less: soon he was back in his recognisable – albeit more scruffy-looking than usual – form, and was looking about him in mild astonishment.

"…Been busy…?" he said weakly.

Sirius explained briefly about Snape's aversion to werewolf howls and his attempts to stop them – and Hagrid's intervention. Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"I'll admit," he said, rubbing his jaw against his shoulder where Snape had thumped him, and looking down at Hagrid's unconscious form, "That's the first time I've been called sweet before. Hagrid has an – er – unusual taste in animals, I remember."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. They knew only too well how far Hagrid's 'unusual taste' stretched – it had got them into enough trouble in the past. By Hagrid's standards, a werewolf was positively cute.

Snape was stuttering almost incoherently as he finally managed to stand up. "Mangy – flea-bitten – "

"I am not mangy, or flea-bitten!" replied Lupin, with the nearest Harry had ever heard him come to indignation. He laughed, and Lupin winked at him. Harry had a feeling that Lupin was trying to lighten up the atmosphere a bit; and it had obviously worked, because Hermione was starting to giggle, glad for the excuse to let out some of the tension that had been creeping up – and if it was at Snape's expense, well, all the better. The nightmare-like feeling of the last few hours had begun to dissolve.

"You were looking a tad pasty, actually, Moony," grinned Sirius, playing along. Lupin gave a grunt of mock disgust.

"You'd be looking pasty if you'd been chained up here like this for the last seven hours," he retorted. "Speaking of which, Padfoot, do you think you could – " Suddenly, Lupin broke off in mid-sentence. He was looking over their shoulders and, as everyone's backs were turned to whatever it was he could see, there was a puzzled pause while the small company tried to fathom why Lupin's face had suddenly lost a great deal of what little colour it had.

But when Harry turned round, it didn't take him long to work it out. Voldemort had returned.