Chapter 19: The Shrieking Shack

Even with exams testing the limits of her sanity and Draco's highly enjoyable-albeit equally distracting-company, Hermione still managed to wrack her brains all week for a clue to help her find Sirius Black. Despite her best efforts, however, by the time Professor Binns told them to lay down their quills at the end of their last exam, she could only see two equally unfavorable options: she could follow Harry around wherever he went and hope to spot the black dog lurking behind him, or she could ask Harry exactly how he got to Hogsmeade without anyone noticing and wander aimlessly around the outskirts of the village scouring for clues of a fugitive. Both were embarrassingly feeble, and both were complicated by the fact that Harry wasn't speaking to Hermione.

For a few days he'd flitted between her and Ron, making awkward pleas with Ron to "give her a break," and infuriating suggestions to Hermione that she "look at it logically." Then, on Wednesday evening, Ron had lost his temper and told him to pick a side, and that was that.

However, as the week wore on and no better options presented themselves, she resigned herself to cornering Harry after dinner on Friday under the guise of wanting to make up with him and Ron. It wasn't a lie, she reasoned-it simply...wasn't the whole truth. But Harry's safety was at stake, and time was running out.

As it happened, she was spared the trouble. She'd scarcely sat down to dinner that evening when Harry slipped in across from her, leaning forward at once with a very serious look on his face.

"I know you don't want to talk to Ron," he said quietly, with a glance around them as though afraid of being overheard. "But I've realized...Hermione, it's tonight. Buckbeak? And Hagrid…" he paused, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, I just think we should be there. All of us." Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. The past week's events had driven Hagrid clean out of her mind, and she felt sick with herself.

"Of course," she said at once. "I-oh, Harry, thank you for...I mean, of course I'll come," she finished, somewhat lamely. Harry looked profoundly relieved.

"Ron's waiting," he told her. She nodded and stood at once, following Harry wordlessly back out into the Entrance Hall. Ron was leaning back against the banister of the staircase leading up to the first floor, but seeing Harry and Hermione, he dropped his gaze self-consciously at once. There was a very long pause.

"Right," said Harry finally. "Er...shall we...go, then?" Ron nodded, and Hermione fell in step with them. No one spoke as they crossed the grounds, though Hermione could feel Harry's eyes flitting between herself and Ron, and did her utmost to simply concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other on the sodden grass.

This time, when they knocked on Hagrid's door, he took a few minutes to answer and it was obvious at once from his expression that he was expecting someone much more sinister than themselves.

"Yeh shouldn've come!" he hissed, but stood back nonetheless and ushered them inside, shutting the door quickly behind them. There were several very awkward moments as their eyes darted around the cabin, all unsure what to say or do with their hands.

"Wan' some tea?" said Hagrid finally. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Harry asked, settling tentatively into a seat at the enormous table.

"I took him outside," said Hagrid. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an'-an' smell the fresh air, before-"

Hagrid's hands trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor. Ron jumped six inches into the air, then sank down next to Harry, ashen-faced.

"I'll do it, Hagrid," said Hermione at once, extremely grateful for something to do. She hurried over and busied herself sopping up the mess.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" asked Ron. "I mean, Dumbledore-"

"He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared...Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like…" Hagrid paused here to take a great, shuddering breath, and the air in the cabin suddenly cooled by around ten degrees and seemed to grow thicker. Harry and Ron had been rigorously silent on the subject of Draco all week, but in a way, this made Hermione more nervous. She couldn't imagine they'd avoided hearing the rumors. Now, she fought against the heat rising to her cheeks and set the kettle to boil, rather more forcefully than was altogether necessary.

"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it-while it happens," Hagrid went on. "Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter-ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore."

Hermione wrenched open the cupboard in search of another milk jug, and recoiled with a shriek as something brown, furry, and distinctly alive burst forth from the depths and smacked her squarely in the chest, writhing sickeningly against her robes for a moment before falling to the cabin floor with a smack. As her shock evaporated, she recognized it as a rat, and then a new kind of shock seized her. Thinking quickly, she shot down and snatched up the animal. She couldn't be sure while he was on the floor, but now that she got a good look, his scruffy fur and missing toe were unmistakable.

"Ron, I-I don't believe it!" she exclaimed. "It's Scabbers!" Ron gaped at her.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. She flew back across the cabin and carefully passed the rat into his waiting hands, which proved a tall order as he was struggling violently against her grip, seeming desperate to escape. Ron held him up to the light, mouth slightly open, color draining from his face.

"Scabbers!" he cried, after a moment. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?" In answer, the rat thrashed about more violently than ever, and Ron was forced to stuff him into his pocket to subdue him. Hagrid, meanwhile, stood so suddenly that he nearly upended the table.

"They're comin'..."

Hermione whipped around. Indeed, a group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Dumbledore, and next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Behind them came a feeble old man Hermione assumed was from the Committee, and a tall, dark-haired figure that sent shivers down her spine even from a distance.

"Yeh gotta go," whispered Hagrid, trembling head to toe. "They mustn' find yeh here...Go now, I'll let yeh out the back way…"

He ushered them toward the back door and opened it, exposing his back garden. Buckbeak was tethered a few yards away, pawing at the ground nervously.

"It's okay, Beaky," crooned Hagrid. To Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he added "go on. Get goin'."

Harry didn't move.
"Hagrid-"

"Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!" He slammed the door behind them, nearly clipping the backs of their heads. Moments later, voices could be heard from the front of the cabin, but still, Harry didn't move. Hermione prodded him sharply in the back.

"Quick," she hissed. "We've got to hurry, or else…" she couldn't say it, but Ron's gulp told her he understood. She couldn't stand it if they heard it happen.

Hagrid's front door slammed shut and they walked briskly back up the lawn toward the castle, but they'd scarcely gone halfway when Ron stopped dead.

"Ron, c'mon!" said Hermione impatiently.

"It's Scabbers, he-" Ron broke off, face screwed up in concentration, hand clapped over his pocket to keep the rat inside. Judging by the frantic squeaking noises issuing from beyond his fingers, he wasn't having much luck.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot," he snapped, and wrenched the rat from his pocket, now holding him in a white-knuckled grip.

"Oh, Ron, please, let's move!" cried Hermione. "They're going to-"

"He bit me!" Ron interrupted, looking utterly scandalized, but before he could properly react, something was bounding toward them out of the grove beyond Hagrid's hut. Hermione's heartbeat sped up and her breath caught in her chest. It was an enormous, jet-black dog.

Harry reached for his wand at once and Hermione smacked his arm down out of habit, but the dog wasn't heading for either of them. It took a great running leap and its paws thudded squarely into Ron's chest, smothering his startled cry as it knocked the wind out of him. Harry lunged forward at once, but he missed by several feet and merely fell to his knees in the grass as the dog fastened its jaws around Ron's ankle and began to drag him away, off toward the Whomping Willow in the distance.

"Ron!" cried Harry at once. He turned to Hermione, wild-eyed. "What do we do?!"

"Harry, trust me," panted Hermione, scarcely able to hear her own voice over her lethally hammering heart. Without another word, she tore across the grounds after the faint glimmer of Ron's red hair, bobbing along just at the end of her field of vision. Harry's footsteps thudded next to her and she could hear his breath coming in sharp gasps in her left ear. The opportunity looked nothing like she'd envisioned, but nonetheless it was here, and she had to take it. There may never be another.

Sirius was nowhere to be found. Not that Draco had a clue in hell where to look, aside from the clearing just outside Hogsmeade. Nor did he have the foggiest idea how long he'd been gone, or what his absence meant. Had he heard news of the rat's escape and simply given up and left? Simply gone to get his dinner? Or-Draco's heartbeat rose into his throat to strangle him-heard news of the rat's escape, gone off and done something stupid, and been caught by the Ministry? What would the Ministry do, exactly, if they caught him?

I reckon I'd be back in Azkaban or worse by now, Sirius had said the first time they met. But what was or worse? The phrase didn't conjure any specific image in his mind, but it did make his lungs seize up and fill his mouth with the bitter taste of metal. And, the most simultaneously pressing and impossible question of all, what was Draco supposed to do?

He could tell someone. Find a teacher and tell them everything, and...and then what? Wait to be expelled for letting a convicted criminal into the castle, that was what.

He could find Ron Weasley and question him about the rat, a possibility which might've been funny if he'd been able to think straight. As if Weasley would tell him anything. And even if he would, Draco was willing to bet a large pile of gold that he didn't know his rat was an animagus in the first place.

He could sneak into Gryffindor Tower. He'd done it before, in an ill-fated attempt to steal Tom Riddle's Diary last year. Why, though? If the rat had escaped, there would be nothing there to find.

Having reached the end of the passageway back to Hogwarts, Draco pressed his ear against the opening for a moment. Hearing nothing, he clambered out of the statue and into the third-floor corridor. He leaned back against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes. A wave of wretched hopelessness flooded him with such force that he nearly fell to the ground. He'd wanted so badly to help Sirius. He'd tried so hard, but ultimately he'd been useless as ever, and now…

Every day, news came in of more deaths, more torturing, more disappearances, it never stopped, we never knew who was going to be next. We were scared. For ten years, we were scared stiff for ourselves, our friends, our families.

He could go and tell someone. Accept whatever punishment the teachers deemed fit, but maybe, just maybe, before they expelled him they'd listen. And if they listened, maybe they'd have enough time to prepare. And maybe, if they were prepared, it wouldn't be so bad this time around. The problem was, who on earth would believe him?

It didn't take much time at all to notice that one of my new friends was...different.

Draco's eyes shot open. Of course. Before he could think for another second he tore himself away from the wall and fled the corridor.

Lupin answered his door at once, and seeing Draco, he furrowed his brow.

"Mr. Malfoy, you ought to be celebrating the end of exams with your friends," he said pleasantly.

"I've got to tell you something," Draco replied. His insides were a writhing knot of nerves, but he won the battle to keep his voice level. "Something...something about Sirius Black." Lupin looked profoundly startled, then stepped aside and wordlessly beckoned Draco into his office. He glanced around the corridor for a moment before shutting the door firmly behind him.

Draco stared down at the floor, suddenly unable to look Lupin in the eye. The horrible fear crept into the back of his mind that he was wrong, he'd made a mistake coming here. But it was too late to turn back now, and so, after a moments' excruciating silence, he fought his eyes up as far as they would go. They landed somewhere in the vicinity of the doorknob. It would have to do.

"I know how he got into the castle." He could scarcely manage more than a whisper. Lupin frowned deeply at him.

"I assure you that the...ah...theories circulating the student body have not escaped Dumbledore's notice," he said kindly. "It is admirable to want to help, but-"

"You don't understand," Draco interrupted. He heard the quiver in his voice, but he was powerless to stop it. "I actually know. Because…" He couldn't say it, but Lupin didn't prompt him. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to choke down the lump in his throat. "Because it was me," he whispered. Before, the silence had felt solid, like a block of ice. Now, the block shattered, sending lethal shards flying indiscriminately, clattering to the floor.

"It's not-I don't mean-It's not what you think," Draco went on, as quickly as he could. "I didn't know it was him at first, I...I found a stray dog in Hogsmeade." Now, at last, he could look up at Lupin. There was a curious, calculating look on his face, but still he withheld comment. "That was on Halloween. I hid the dog in my dormitory, but I was never going to keep him, I only wanted…" he shook his head impatiently. "It doesn't matter. I went back to look in on him after the feast and he was gone, and-well, I knew something was off because I'd shut the door behind me, and I knew a real dog couldn't have gotten out, and we all found out Sirius Black had gotten into the castle…" he trailed off. Lupin was looking at him as if he were demonstrating a particularly ambitious and mildly frightening piece of homework.

"That was clever of you," he said softly. For some absurd reason Draco felt his face grow hot, and he looked away at once.

"It didn't really make sense," he went on. Now that he'd got through the beginning of the story, he burned with impatience to reach the end. "He was supposed to be a cold-blooded murderer, but I didn't think he'd acted much like one. I didn't understand why, so I...I went back to the place where I found the dog. I just wanted to know whether I was right. And, Professor...I was." He swallowed hard and, though it took nearly everything in him, met Lupin's eyes. "I was right about the dog, and I was right about...him. He's innocent." Lupin opened his mouth as if to interrupt, but Draco pressed on at once. "Sirius told me he and his friends became animagi to keep their friend company, because…" saying it aloud suddenly felt deeply disrespectful, and he dropped his gaze once again to the floor. "Because he was a werewolf." Lupin froze.

"He told me one of your friends could turn into a rat," Draco pressed on at once, anxious to brush past the subject. "And that after you left school, that friend...Peter Pettigrew...that he-well…that he worked for…" he couldn't say it. There was a pause.

"Mr. Malfoy…" Draco risked a glance up at Lupin. There was a curious look on his face, and with a jolt, Draco identified it as something like pity.

"No, just listen," he insisted. "He told me you all fought against...well, him. And then, when the Potters went into hiding, he persuaded them to use Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper." A shadow crossed Lupin's eyes, gone a split second later but nevertheless unmistakable.

"Go on," he breathed. Draco's heartbeat quickened slightly, but it wasn't fear this time. Lupin was listening.

"The night that Sirius went to Azkaban, he'd gone to check up on Pettigrew," he went on. "But he'd disappeared, so Sirius went to check up on the Potters, and he found…" Surely, he didn't need to finish his sentence. "Sirius tried to confront Pettigrew, but instead...instead he blasted all those Muggles, transformed and faked his own death. It's not Harry Potter Sirius is after. It's him." Try as he might, Draco couldn't read the look on Lupin's face.

"And what does this have to do with letting him into the castle?" he asked.

"He's been living as a pet. Ron Weasley's got a pet rat, I'm not sure whether you know. Says he's been in the family for twelve years." He paused. "There was an article in the Prophet over the summer with a photo of the Weasleys in Egypt. Sirius saw it and recognized the rat immediately. That's why he came here. That's why he's gone for the Gryffindor common room every time he's got into the castle." Silence.

"Mr. Malfoy, that story…" Lupin paused. "It's absolutely unbelievable." Draco swallowed hard and looked Lupin directly in the eye.

"It's the truth." He paused. "You know...who my family is." It wasn't a question, but Lupin gave a short nod nonetheless. "No one talks about Sirius. You'd think they'd be proud of him, wouldn't you? If he'd really done all that stuff?" Lupin studied him intently for a few moments.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, after a moment.

"Because the rat's missing," said Draco flatly. "And so is Sirius." Lupin froze for a few seconds, and then, as if he'd been suddenly jolted awake by an invisible force, stepped abruptly behind his desk and pulled a sheaf of parchment from the top drawer. Without speaking or looking at Draco he opened it, peered at it for what felt like an eternity, and then slammed it shut again as if it had burned him.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," he said brusquely. "Kindly return to your dormitory." Draco was so startled by Lupin's abrupt change in manner that it took him a moment to understand what he'd said.

"Er-I-you believe me, then?" he stammered.

"Yes," said Lupin vaguely, now crossing out from behind his desk. "I believe you." He swept smoothly out the door without a backward glance. Draco hesitated for a moment, but curiosity pulled him across the room to Lupin's desk. Hand trembling slightly, he picked up the folded parchment and examined it. As far as he could tell, there was nothing special about it except that it was quite thin in places and spotted with age. Wondering what Lupin could possibly have seen to change his mind, he opened the fold, and frowned. It was blank.

They caught up to the dog just as it reached the Whomping Willow. The tree was thrashing about violently as the dog slipped through the branches, and Ron's screams of terror and pain split the air as the dog dragged him savagely down toward the great trunk of the tree. Harry charged forward and the Willow, sensing another presence, whipped sharply around toward him. Hermione seized the back of his shirt and yanked, and the branch came down lethally and missed him by centimeters. Hermione heard an involuntary scream escape her, and she and Harry fell back into the grass, panting. They couldn't see Ron any longer, but his yells were growing fainter and fainter, and then-crack! Ron screamed louder than ever, and Hermione strained her eyes in the gathering dusk.

"There!" shouted Harry, pointing. Hermione looked around just in time to spot the dog dragging Ron through a large gap in the roots and out of sight. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, horrified, and paid dearly for their lapse in concentration as a thicker branch came down between them. It clipped Harry's left elbow, and cut brutally into Hermione's right shoulder as it swung back up into the air. Seizing the split second before it came down on them again, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him, bent double against the lashing of the branches, down toward the trunk.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't conscious of the individual thoughts in her head. She simply acted, pulling Harry this way and that, anticipating the tree's attacks by the sound of the branches through the air. A whistle meant a branch was headed for them at lightning speed. A whoosh meant it was withdrawing, giving them a precious second to lurch forward and gain another foot. Harry was yelling behind her and she wanted desperately to tell him to shut up, but she was positive her mouth wouldn't work. At long, long last, they reached the trunk. Hermione shoved Harry headfirst into the gap in the roots and careened in after him, just as the largest branch yet came crashing down where they'd been standing just moments ago.

The gap led to a steep, earthy slope, which they rolled down headfirst. Hermione heard the thud as Harry hit the bottom, followed seconds later by a hideous crunching sound and a strangled yell. Before she could wonder what had happened, she found herself smacked unceremoniously down on top of him. His elbow dug into her stomach and she screamed as Harry tossed her off him and onto a hard, rocky floor. They sprawled on their backs, aching and completely winded.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, as soon as she could speak again.

"I think so," panted Harry. "You?"

"Yes. I think." There was a pause as they lit their wands. They were in a low, earthy passageway so dark it swallowed their wandlight after a few feet.

"Where d'you suppose this tunnel comes out?" asked Harry.

"No earthly idea," Hermione admitted. Harry nodded.

"C'mon."

The tunnel was so low they were forced to duck as they hurried along it, spurred forward by the thought of what must be happening to Ron. After what felt like a year, the tunnel began to rise and they could see a small bit of light through a crack ahead. Drawing nearer, they realized it was a gap between two very old, rotting boards. The tunnel ended abruptly two feet in front of them. Whatever lay beyond the gap, Ron had to be there.

Hermione slipped through, and emerged clumsily into the dustiest and most disordered room she'd ever seen in her life. Furniture was strewn chaotically about the place, some upended, some torn in half. The wallpaper hung off the walls in tatters, the windows were boarded up, and dark, mysterious stains littered the filthy floor underfoot.

"Whoa," breathed Harry, coming up behind her. Hermione took a few tentative steps forward and peered through a gap in the boards over the windows. It was faint, but she could just make out a dark shape protruding into the sky, a shape which might be a castle.

"Harry, I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," she said softly. Harry frowned, but at that moment a loud creak rang out somewhere above their heads. Sharing a brief, wide-eyed glance, they tiptoed out into the darkened hallway and up the narrowest and dingies set of stairs either of them could imagine. They reached the dark landing, and before them was a hallway with three doors on either side, most of which appeared to be nailed shut. There was a single, cracked doorway at the end of the hall, and with a gulp, they tiptoed toward it. Reaching the door, Harry paused for a second and kicked it open.

Ron lay on a massive four-poster bed at the far end of the room, clutching his leg and grimacing in pain. Harry flew across the room and knelt beside him.

"Ron! Are you okay?!"

"Where's the dog?" asked Hermione, coming up behind him.

"Not a dog!" Ron moaned in agony. "Harry, get out, it's a trap-" Hermione whipped around just in time to see the man step out of the shadows. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung about his head, but his eyes looked alive, and he was inexplicably grinning. Harry raised his wand, preparing to attack. Driven by an impulse she knew she could never explain, Hermione seized his arm and tore his wand out of his hand. She ignored his yell of protest and concentrated with everything in her on squaring her shoulders and meeting Sirius Black's eye.

"It's very brave of you, not to run for a teacher," said Black softly. "I'm grateful...it'll make everything much easier." Harry was reaching frantically for his wand, fingernails tearing into Hermione's wrist, but she held firm.

"It'll make...what much easier?" she asked. It took everything in her to keep her voice level.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us first!" bellowed Ron from the bed. Black spared him a brief glance.

"Lie down. You'll damage that leg even more."

"Did you hear me?!" Ron repeated. "You'll have to kill all three of us!"

"There'll only be one murder here tonight," hissed Black.

"Why's that?" spat Harry, drawing level with Hermione. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew! What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Enough!" Hermione was startled by the strength and vehemence of her own voice. "Shut up, both of you!" She allowed the ringing silence to fill the room for a few seconds, then turned back to face Black. "I don't think you're here to kill Harry," she said in a clear voice. "If I'm wrong about that, I-loads of teachers know where we are," she invented wildly. "I've just got to call for help, and then they'll send you to the Dementors. But if you tell us what it is you want...the teachers don't need to know you were here at all." Black's face split into what was unmistakably a patronizing sort of grin.

"Harry, I must say, I'm disappointed," he said casually. "I didn't think your friends would be the type who couldn't lie to save their lives. Your father-"

But what Harry's father would've done, they never found out. Hermione was knocked aside as Harry charged forward, throwing his full weight at Black. One of his hands seized his wrist, the other struck his waxy, sunken face clumsily, and they crashed to the floor, thudding chaotically backward in a tangle of writhing arms and legs.

"No!" croaked Black, and he tore his arm out of Harry's grip and shoved the latter off him. "I've waited too long…" But Harry was not to be dismissed so easily. He threw himself back on top of Black, raining blows which missed as often as they struck. Ron was struggling as if to stand up, and the sight ignited Hermione to action. She crossed the room in a few smooth steps and aimed a kick at Black's chest. He stumbled back, shocked and wheezing, and she dragged Harry away and shoved him back onto the four-poster with a strength she didn't know she had.

"STOP IT!" she screamed, gazing wild-eyed from one of their shocked, ashen faces to the next. Harry and Ron, to her surprise, shrank back slightly against the pillows. "Fine," she snapped, addressing Sirius Black again. "You're right. If you must know, we're here on our own, and you could probably kill us all before anyone thought to look for us. So, get to it then." Black didn't move. Behind Hermione, Ron let out a whimper. "That's what I thought," Hermione went on derisively, as Black remained still. "So now, you're going to tell us exactly why you're really here, and you're going to do it now, because Harry deserves to know why you've been following him around all year."

"That," said a calm voice behind them, "is an excellent idea, Hermione. I couldn't have put it better myself." They whipped around sharply at the same time, startled beyond belief. Professor Lupin had arrived in the doorway.