Chapter Twenty-Two

A Veritable Petting Zoo

Alex's stay at the Leaky Cauldron was unplanned. She could've easily returned home after dinner by catching up with her dad as he closed up the shop, but both him and her mates insisted she stay and take a Ministry car with them to King's Cross the next day. Dad would meet up with her before they left with her things for school – already packed, of course.

"Say bye to Lucky for me," she told her dad when he came to pick her up from the inn.

"Will do," he assured her. He gave her a hug before exiting so he could apparate home.

It was unprecedented, this change in plans. Hopefully Sirius would be fine with her early leave and make his way to Hogwarts as scheduled. If not, well, they'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

Yawning, Alex turned to head back to her room when she noticed someone lurking by the bar. The nest of hair atop their head indicated it was Harry, and his body language practically screamed eavesdropping.

Alex, having mastered the art of walking quietly, snuck up behind him. He was so busy listening in on Mr and Mrs Weasleys' argument that he didn't even notice her until she clapped a hand to his mouth.

Harry flinched violently, elbowing her in the process. The movement was swift and sharp thanks to his ridiculously good reflexes, and Alex wheezed.

"Shh," hissed Harry.

Alex glowered. She rubbed her sore spot as she righted herself from the doubled over position Harry had sent her in. To his credit, he shot her an apologetic glance before turning his green eyes back to the crack in the door he was peering through.

There was a thud on wood, as if someone had banged their fist against a table. Alex was startled into sobering, and she too leaned in to determine what was going on.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you?" Mr Weasley demanded, sounding fed up.

Alex frowned. If anyone spoke to her like that, she'd kick their arse.

"They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts…he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that."

The more Mr Weasley spoke, the higher Harry's shoulders inched upwards. His expression was frozen save for the terror in his eyes, and Alex gripped his forearm to help keep him grounded.

Ron's parents were now discussing the presence of the Azkaban guards that would be stationed around the school grounds. Harry didn't react to this piece of information, most likely due to his ignorance regarding dementors. Alex didn't have that luxury, however, and bit her lip at the mere thought of the ghastly creatures.

Sirius didn't talk about the dementors of Azkaban, but Alex knew without a doubt that they were one of the reasons behind the dark bags beneath his eyes and his constant night terrors. It was why he hated the dark, and why he tended to nap during the day.

Harry's arm slipped from her grip, forcing her back to reality. Behind the partially closed door, Mr and Mrs Weasleys' chairs sounded as though they were being pushed back. Harry nodded to the bar; they scampered towards, ducking behind the counter just before the door opened and the adults went up the stairs.

"The coast is clear," she whispered to Harry.

He didn't seem to hear her, however. Harry was slumped against the counter, his face dazed. "Did you know?" he asked, voice distant. "That Sirius Black is after me?"

"No." Because he wasn't. "He wasn't even a Death Eater, Harry. People are mistaking him for his brother."

Harry's brow furrowed, but he seemed more focused. "How d'you know that?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

"I read up on him," she replied, shrugging. "Like I said, his situation isn't as clear-cut as people seem to think it is. Besides," she continued, nudging him with a smile on her face, "it's not the first time someone's been after you. If you can take down a Dark Lord not once but twice, you'll have no problem defeating some malnourished prisoner. Hell, Dudley probably has a better chance of getting you."

Harry actually cracked a smile at that. He bumped her shoulder back. "You sure know how to cheer someone up," he said dryly. But he got up all the same.

"What were you even doing down here?" she asked as they emerged from the bar.

"Oh, right." Harry ducked into the room the Weasley parents had been occupying and returned with a small bottle in hand. "Ron's rat tonic. Scabbers has been feeling awful lately."

Alex frowned. "Poor thing. I wanna check up on him."

"Sure. Just don't let Hermione's cat near him – Crookshanks hates Scabbers."

Alex witnessed the truth behind Harry's words later that night. She rented her own room on the same floor as the Weasleys, as the rooms on Harry's floor were priced rather exorbitantly for an outdated inn. Regardless, Alex was faced with the prospect of sleeping alone for the first time in years. Spitfire wasn't here to keep her company, and she didn't have the muffled presence of her roommates to dampen her noisy mind. So she used Crookshanks instead.

The half-kneazle didn't care either way, and Hermione trusted in Alex's ability to handle her pet in the befitting manner. Whereas Spitfire merely tolerated her nuzzling, Crookshanks seemed to revel in it. He must've been starved of attention in the long years he had been kept in the store, she realised.

With that thought in mind, Alex pecked Crookshanks on his fuzzy head and drifted off to sleep with him nestled in her arms.

She was awoken much earlier than she would've liked when Crookshanks wriggled out of her grasp. Alex sneezed as his fur brushed against her nose. She accommodated his need to leave, assuming he was uncomfortable or needed to use the litterbox she had set up in the adjacent bathroom.

Then she noticed the tension in his fuzzy body. All remnants of sleep fled her system at the sight of his upright ears and alert eyes. His tail was pointing downwards and flicked from side to side warily

Crookshanks hopped onto the floor. He glanced at the door and then at her, as though asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Cursing softly, Alex threw her covers off and hurried to open the door. She regretted not bringing her sneakoscope with her — it remained in her room at all times, because when she walked around with it it would never stop buzzing. No matter, though; Crookshanks seemed to function well enough as a substitute.

Her wand slid out of its holder and into her hand. She cast a Silencing Charm on the creaky door. Her footsteps made little to no noise; if she could sneak up on Harry with her shoes on, she could do this with them off.

The corridor was dark and quiet in a way the hallways of Hogwarts could never manage. (It helped that there were no portraits or ghosts to liven things up.) The only illumination provided was the dim lamps lining the walls; it sufficed, though, so Alex didn't bother with a lumos in case she needed her wand for much more dire purposes.

Crookshanks led the way. His scrunched up nose was pressed against the floor as he audibly sniffed out whatever was bothering him.

They made their way down to the dining area uninterrupted. It was kind of eerie, how it seemed as though they were the only ones left in the entire building.

Alex tightened her grip on her wand. The situation was definitely getting to her.

Crookshanks came to a stop at the door Alex knew led to the kitchens. The half-kneazle was watching her expectantly. Feeling oddly sheepish, Alex nudged the door open.

There were no elves inside — they were probably asleep somewhere in the inn. That didn't mean the kitchen was empty, however.

"Scabbers," she said faintly. "Did Ron forget to feed you?"

The rat peered up at her from his position by the pantry doors. They were open, which meant that either Scabbers was the strongest rat in the world, or Pettigrew had reverted to his human form for the sake of a snack.

Alex tried to clamp down on the ripple of disdain that swept through her. She bit her lip to keep her expression neutral as she leaned down to ostensibly grab some nuts for Scabbers.

Something must've tipped him off—be it her expression, the twitch of her wand, or merely the sight of Crookshanks guarding the only exit in the room—because Scabbers suddenly dashed to the side like his traitorous life depended on it.

Alex didn't even have time to curse. "Stupefy!" she yelled, pointing her wand at the spot of grey in her periphery. She missed; he was too small, and too quick.

That didn't stop her from trying. Alex relied on her instincts to gauge approximately where Scabbers would dart towards, and she was rewarded on her third attempt when her stunner grazed him.

But it wasn't a direct hit. He didn't even seem to feel the pain, fuelled by the very adrenaline coursing through Alex's veins.

Despair began to carve a hole in her chest as she saw Scabbers dart towards the rat-sized hole by the door.

"Crookshanks!" she bellowed.

He rightfully took that as his cue. Crookshanks left his post by the door and leapt at Scabbers, empowered by his feline instincts. Scabbers emitted a trill of terror as Crookshanks captured him in his maw. Before he could even think of transforming back into his human form, Alex finally nailed him with a stunner.

Alex permitted herself a moment to lean back and sigh in relief before grabbing a container from one of the cupboards and charming so it was animagus-proof. It was no easy feat, the spell, but Sirius had drilled it into her roughly a hundred times until she could cast it in her sleep.

Sirius. She had to get to him asap. Nothing seemed to be going according to plan, but then again, things rarely did. All that mattered was that she had Pettigrew.

She would die before she let him escape.

A soft meow drew Alex from her reverie. She peered down at Crookshanks and smiled. "Thanks for your help," she said, kneeling to give him some well-deserved pats. "I guess you really did inherit that kneazle-like intelligence."

Crookshanks merely blinked at her.

Alex continued, undeterred by the lack of response — she was well accustomed to holding one-sided conversations with Spitfire, after all. "I'm gonna take the Knight Bus to my place," she informed Crookshanks with one final stroke of his ear. "Then I'll let Sirius decide what to do next."

The plastic container tipped dangerously in her hands. It seemed Pettigrew was awake, and had overheard her conversation with Crookshanks.

He scrambled furiously against the container, and seemed to distort and morph as though struggling to complete his transfiguration. Alex's spellwork held steady, however, and she watched with quiet disgust as Pettigrew was forced into reverting back to his typical form as Scabbers.

She smiled.

Gotta get back home. Personal emergency. Meet you lot at school.

Alex

Curt but sufficient. Satisfied with her note, Alex collected what few belongings she had brought to the inn with her and bid Crookshanks goodbye.

She left via the muggle exit—Diagon Alley had no roads—and glanced around once before lifting her wand as though she were signalling a car.

A magnificent explosion of noise preceded the appearance of a triple-decker bus. It was nauseatingly purple; Alex actually winced at the sight of it.

How tacky, she thought even as she boarded the metal death-trap. She waved off the obligatory introduction speech presented by the conductor that night—a pimply bloke by the name of Stan Shunpike—and offered him a galleon for his troubles after stating her destination. Stan, delighted by the generous tip, left her alone for the entire trip.

The bus took off before Alex could even get a proper look at its interior. She scrambled onto a nearby seat with a grunt, openly admiring the way the wizards and witches in the back were able to sleep through all the sharp turns.

No wonder her parents had discouraged her from using the bus except as a last resort. From a very young age Alex had been instructed to stick to either of her parents whenever she was far from home. If she ever ended up separated from them, though, she was permitted to use the Knight Bus to get back home.

Alex kept a tight hold on the makeshift sack in her lap. It used to hold potatoes but, well, she figured she needed it more than the Leaky Cauldron did. If she pressed her fingers right against it, she could feel Pettigrew clawing at the container within.

Ten minutes later, the bus came to a stop on her street. She hadn't given the conductor her exact address, appropriately wary of anyone keeping track of her, and so had to walk several minutes to reach her house.

Alex closed her eyes briefly. The only bright spots of magic she managed to take note of were herself and Pettigrew. So far, so good.

It must've made quite a sight: a fourteen-year-old girl in what looked like a nightgown scurrying through the streets with a burlap sack slung over her shoulder. There was going to be a PSA because of her, she was sure of it.

Quiet as a mouse (hah), Alex unlocked her front door and closed it behind her. Wary of waking her parents, Alex tip-toed inside.

The sight of two glowing eyes staring down at her from the top of her stairs almost made Alex shriek in surprise. She managed to stifle it into a hiss instead.

"Sirius?" Although hushed, her whisper sounded almost deafening in the silence of the still house.

The air shifted as Sirius reverted to his human form. With a lightness of foot that seemed to contrast with his rugged appearance, Sirius hurried down the stairs before a traitorous creak could alert the resident auror.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice low. Concern knitted his brow as he scanned her for any indication of her sudden arrival. "Your dad said you were staying at Diagon Alley."

Alex could barely contain the excitement bubbling within her. "I've got Pettigrew."

She could pinpoint the second realisation hit him. Sirius's eyes lit up as he glanced at the sack in her tight grip. "He's in there?" he asked a tad breathlessly.

Alex nodded. "You might wanna reapply all the protective charms and stuff," she said, handing him the bag.

Her expression contorted into one of furious envy as Sirius shot a stunner through the plastic container – using her wand too! Sure, he had over two decades' experience over her, but he had been out of practise, and wasn't even using a wand that had chosen him. It pissed her off.

Sirius paused between charms to eye Pettigrew's unconscious form like the canary who had gotten the cream (the dog who had gotten the rat?). Alex was all for gloating and basking over the defeat of one's enemies, but the more time they spent dilly-dallying, there was a higher likelihood of something going amiss.

Fortunately, Sirius seemed aware of this as well. He wrapped it up fairly quickly and stored the container in the deceptively large pocket of the robes Alex had purchased for him.

They shared a look. "What now?" she asked.

"Same as the original plan," Sirius replied. "We go to Dumbledore."

Alex glanced at the clock mounted by the dining room. Dumbledore was surely asleep by now, and even if he wasn't, how were they going to get to Hogwarts in the first place?

"The gates are locked," Alex reminded him, trepidation growing with every second. "They stay locked unless you have permission from the headmaster."

Sirius's eyes twinkled with the dark. "I know a way."

Without any further explanation, he held out his arm. Somewhat sceptically, Alex took it.

But where were they apparating to?

The Shrieking Shack. They were in Charmed's number one spookiest spot in Magical Britain, as voted by its readers and anyone else who had had the misfortune of glimpsing the haunted house.

And she was inside it.

"It's not that bad," Sirius told her.

A giant roach scuttled over her foot. Alex almost cried then and there.

Well, she thought dismally as she watched Sirius scope out the place, at least there aren't any rats around. Real ones, anyway.

"Not even the ghosts dare approach the Shack," Alex informed Sirius, partially to winge but also because the tense silence was eating at her.

Sirius kicked aside a broken plank. "You talk to the ghosts?" he asked. He knelt down and began clearing away the dirt and dust with his hand.

"They talk to me."

She watched in surprise as Sirius unveiled a trap door. He pulled it open with an ease that bespoke familiarity.

"My mates used to access this secret passage all the time," explained Sirius as he helped her down. "The only reason people think it's haunted is because of us."

Alex stood aside so Sirius could make the small jump. "Somehow that makes me more apprehensive," she admitted, casting a lumos.

It illuminated the dank tunnel just in time for her to catch Sirius's amused smile. "It's very fortunate for us that it's a half-moon tonight," he commented as they made their way through the tunnel.

Alex stared blankly at the back of his head. Was Sirius into astrology?

They emerged from the tunnel just as she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Alex relished the fresh, crisp air for a moment before realising where they were.

She pointed her wand at the tree at their backs. "Isn't this the Weeping Willow?" she asked with an audible gulp.

"Yes," Sirius confirmed with a casual air she thought incongruous to the situation. He tapped his foot against a notable knot formed by the root of the tree, and the Willow stopped what little movement it began. "Ta-da."

"Hm," she murmured. "I'm starting to think your time at Hogwarts was much more fulfilling than mine."

"Don't fret," he assured her as they began the trek up to the castle. "You have a few years yet."

Yeah, well, if her journal was any indication, the next couple of years weren't going to be a picnic.

They were a minute into their walk when the she felt it — a sudden chill that crept down from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. It was the only warning she got before several dementors swept towards them.

They looked as though someone had draped a cloak as deep and dark as the night sky atop of a decaying skeleton and then animated it. They were terrifying enough even without their ability to drain the very life out of people.

Alex turned, about to call for Sirius, when she saw him crouched on the ground on all fours. He was groaning as though in immense pain, and Alex knew with startling clarity that she was on her own.

She had read up about dementors, of course; even before meeting Sirius she was well aware of the demonic creatures. Dementors, lethifolds, boggarts – those three had taken turns plaguing her dreams when she was younger.

And for good reason, too. All but one of the dementors zeroed in on her, apparently finding her much more interesting than their actual charge. If dementors could drool, they would be salivating right now.

It was a free for all, and she was the main course.

Alex knew, on an intellectual level, the spell to ward off dementors. They fed off misery and despair, and so you had to draw on your happiest memory to properly cast the patronus charm. It had never worked for her, not when she was at a safe distance from any potential threats, and definitely not now.

As the icy cold seeped into her veins, Alex tried her to best to cast any and all spells that came to mind: stupefy, bombarda, impedimenta. None of them worked.

"Protego," she rasped. A thin shield bubbled out from the tip of her wand, barely covering her let alone Sirius. The dementor that tried to breach the barrier hissed as though burned, but it was only a matter of time before what was left of her strength would peter out.

Her shield fizzled out the same moment her knees gave out under her. Alex collapsed onto the ground, barely feeling the small pinpricks of the dewy grass beneath her. The only thing she was aware of at the moment was the death rattle of the dementors as they leaned down for a Kiss.

Her vision darkened; her eyelids grew heavy. The last thought she had was one of regret. Sirius had deserved better.

And so had she.