Chapter Nine - They Called Him Padfoot

The departure of Dumbledore and the arrest of Hagrid seemed to do what the escape of Sirius Black, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and the petrification of five students could not. A pall had descended over Hogwarts; an ominous invisible dark cloud that hung heavy in the air. Students moved in quiet watchful packs, their laughter and usual rambunctiousness dimmed to barely a flicker of youthful exuberance. Owls flocked back and forth between disquieted students and equally concerned parents. The Daily Prophet published a statement from the Minister of Magic who hoped to calm fears by stating that the Ministry had the problems at Hogwarts in hand. That the Minister felt the need to say anything at all was more worrying than the information trickling out of the school itself.

Whispers whipped around the Ministry. They floated along Diagon Ally. They lingered like echoes in the backs of pubs and village halls across the length of Wizarding Britain and further afield.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after almost a millennium of educating the best, the elite, the brightest, the most gifted and the richest wizards in Britain, was a mere hair's breadth from closing its doors forever.

High up in her office – she had told Dumbledore she had no intention of taking his office and she'd meant it – Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stared at the ever increasing stack of letters from parents on her desk and felt a choking sensation settle in her chest and throat. Over the many years she'd been teaching, she'd occasionally entertained the thought of becoming Headmistress, although she hadn't considered it would be so soon. She'd certainly never imagined she may well be the last.

In his own office, Acting Deputy Headmaster Severus Snape schooled his patience as he continued to explain the intricacies of the role of Head of House to Gryffindor's newest guardian. He certainly had his reservations about Minerva's choice; Charity Burbage was rather young and had only been teaching at the school for three years, but more worryingly, she was unfailingly nice. So nice in fact that if he had not been witness to her sorting when he'd been in third year, he'd have considered her more a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor. Then again, one had to possess plenty of that vaunted Gryffindor courage to attempt to teach Muggle Studies with any seriousness or accuracy to the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Time, of course, would tell as to how she managed the role. And he certainly didn't envy her the job of keeping the likes of Potter, or any of the Weasley brood, in line. Glancing up from where he'd been explaining the house points monitoring ledger, he managed a strained upturning of the lips in response to her eager, open and friendly smile. There was no point scowling at her. She never paid a blind bit of notice.

He could only hope she wouldn't be so forgiving with her new charges.

Her new charges who at that very moment in time were being far better behaved than anyone would have thought them capable of. Even the Fat Lady, who had imperiously stood guard at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower for hundreds of years and had known Gryffindors for generations found herself glancing worriedly over her shoulder even though she couldn't actually see anything beyond her own background. It was too quiet. Her little warriors were subdued, listless; their vibrant courageous light dimmed.

In their dorm rooms, even the Gryffindors who were still awake remained quiet, thoughtful. Behind the closed curtains of her bed, Hermione Granger slept slumped uncomfortably over the book in her lap; around her on the bed numerous books lay spread about, illuminated in the soft glow of her still lit wand.

Behind closed eyes her mind wandered through memory and thought. Dreams conjured and rolled together faster than a flash of lightning.

A great black dog watched her as she sat on the floor of Professor McGonagall's office sorting files and papers from her filing cabinet. It didn't move or make a sound, just sat there and watched her with curious eyes, head cocked to one side. It wasn't scary, although it looked in need of some serious TLC.

"Hello." She found herself saying, and the dog gave a soft wuf. Biting her lip, she found the words coming without really thinking about it. "Thank you for saving me."

The dog seemed to shrug, then it looked down, pointing its long black muzzle towards the papers she held in her hands. It wuffed again.

Glancing down Hermione found herself holding a photograph. It had been hidden at the back of the filing cabinet. She remembered finding it. She looked down at the four faces, one looking remarkably like Harry's. They were grinning out at her, pulling faces, making gestures and waving. The one that looked like Harry had to be Harry's dad. One was definitely a younger version of Ratb... Peter Pettigrew. There was no mistaking the dark regal features of a younger Sirius Black. The last was vaguely familiar but she couldn't place it.

She turned it over in her hands, as she had done when she'd first found it. Before she'd realised why Professor McGonagall would have hidden it, rather than keep it on display with the countless other photographs of past Gryffindors. This picture was of two dead men and a traitor. She wondered if the professor had forgotten she even had it.

Messy scrawl covered the back.

To the wondrous Professor Minnie.

The writing changed. Someone else.

You know you're going to miss us! Oh what will our lives be without your detentions?

Again a new script.

Thank you for everything.

And finally four names, each obviously written by their owner.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs.

Hermione looked up, confused, a question on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn't in McGonagall's office anymore. The picture in her hands had become a book, the world around her the library. Absently she placed the book down on a nearby table, her feet moving her deeper into the stacks of their own accord.

Deep growling filled the air. She could practically taste the anger and hatred in that sound and yet she kept moving toward it.

A voice filled the air. A voice she knew. She knew this memory too. It was the day she'd seen the dog in the library. The voice! The other person in the library, she had to work out who it was! But then something knocked into her from the side, and with a scream she jumped aside as the petrified form of Penelope Clearwater lurched out from between two sets of shelves towards her and a mighty hissing filled the air.

"Ssssssssssssssssssssssirrrrrrrrrrrrrrriusssssssss ssssssssssssssssssss"

Spinning around in fright, Hermione found herself face to face with Peter Pettigrew. This wasn't how it happened. She hadn't seen Pettigrew that night. But there he was, ducked and cowering. He was mumbling, that same pleading voice, the words too unclear to make out.

"Mr Pettigrew?" She asked, stepping closer. "Are you alright Mr Pettigrew?"

Pettigrew open his mouth but only the hissing emerged. It sounded like Harry speaking parseltongue. "Ssssssssssssssssssssssirrrrrrrrrrrrrrriusssssssss ssssssssssssssssssss"

Then he was shrinking, curling up and all of sudden there was Scabbers, Ron's pet rat. It squeaked in fright, and whether it was instinct or pure dumb luck she didn't know but Hermione ducked as with a mighty snarl, the great dog was sailing over her head, its huge jaws wide as he grabbed Scabbers and swallowed him whole.

"No!" Hermione sat up, her book flying from her lap and her neck cracking brutally at the sudden movement. Panting for breath she looked around in confusion. No library, just heavy dark drapes. No lamp light, just the pale glow of her wand.

A dream. Deep breath. Deep breath. She let her head hang forward as her heart still thundered. She felt choked. Hurt. Confused. The images from the dream rolled around inside her head and suddenly her eyes widened. Reaching for one of the books on her bed, she flicked through it, realised it didn't have what she was looking for and turned to another.

'Something far more mundane yet far more incredible'

If she was right, then Dumbledore was the master of understatement.

~HpɸqH~

The great hall was beginning to empty when Hermione finally arrived for breakfast.

Distracted from his deliberations over the possibility of a third slice of toast Harry frowned as Hermione clambered into her usual seat across the dining table. Instantly he took in her slightly off kilter tie, skewed robes, flushed face and larger than normal hair but he refrained from making comment. It wouldn't be polite.

Ron was less tactful. Snorting into his juice, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stared open mouthed. "What happened to you?"

"I over slept." Hermione snapped back.

Ron laughed, looking at Harry with incredulity. "Blimey, she is human."

"Not funny Ronald." Hermione huffed in return, hurt but defiantly refusing to let either of the boys see that, although she suspected Harry would anyway. Lips pursed, she reached for a piece of toast, slammed it onto her plate and began to butter it like it had greatly offended her.

Harry winced in sympathy for the twice cooked bread. He was rather glad he hadn't been the one to make a comment this morning; apparently Hermione was even scarier when she over slept. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Hermione bit out testily. "I just stayed awake a bit too late studying last night."

"fuddying wah?" Ron asked around a mouthful of sausage. At the disgusted looks both Harry and Hermione shot him, he rolled his eyes and swallowed with effort. "Do we have a test?"

"No..." Hermione grimaced, pushing her plate of toast slightly away from herself. She'd never have to worry about dieting it seemed; Ron's table manners could put a person off food for weeks. "It was just something I..." She paused then, and looked thoughtfully between Harry and Ron. "Look I think I may have worked something out. But we can't talk about it here."

"Alright." Harry agreed with a nod. "Is it about the Chamber?"

"No. I think I may have solved the mystery of the Dog." Hermione admitted cautiously, waiting for the ridicule. She got it from Ron, who scoffed and rolled his eyes. Even though she'd proven that she wasn't as mental as Ron had previously claimed, Ron still didn't seem to believe her. Lord knows what it would actually take. But Harry at least was on her side, although he might not be happy with what she wanted to tell him. Looking at him, she suddenly realised she'd lost him. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and his cheeks had gone bright pink. "Harry what's wrong?"

"Fang!" He exclaimed out of nowhere, looking at Ron, whose eyes suddenly widened to match Harry's.

"Oh bloody hell!"

"What?" Hermione persisted. "What about Fang?"

"We promised Hagrid we'd feed him!" Harry blurted guiltily.

"He must be starving!" Ron added, his face crumpling.

"We'll go tonight." Harry announced decidedly with a nod. "You can tell us what you've worked out then. No one will be able to overhear at Hagrid's."

~HpɸqH~

There was an old expression. Two's company, three's a crowd. It was certainly true of Harry's invisibility cloak. Last year they'd all fitted underneath it just fine, but one year on and they'd all grown just enough to make it difficult to stay under the enchanted fabric without elbowing or being elbowed in the ribs, tripping up, being tripped over or getting disconcertingly close to one-another.

If they'd thought they'd had difficulty traversing the corridors of the castle, making their way down the steep slope to Hagrid's was about a hundred times worse. As the shortest, Harry had taken the front end of their unorthodox invisible triangle, and although that meant his ribs were fairly safe, and he wasn't constantly falling into someone else's back, the backs of his heels were taking a battering never mind what it was doing to his poor shoes.

Of course, it didn't help that it was dark, or that the ground was sopping wet from the rain they'd had that afternoon. More than once one of them had been saved from landing on their backsides by the quick reactions of the others. The cloak would be useless if it got muddy.

"You gonna tell us what you worked out then?" Ron said over Harry's shoulder, and distracted, Harry almost slipped again.

"Let's get to Hagrid's first alright?" Harry muttered, straightening his glasses that had caught against the cloak fabric and pulled up his face. "We need to concentrate."

"This was a really bad idea." Hermione mumbled.

"You were the one who didn't want to talk anywhere someone could overhear." Ron reminded her. "Besides, we need to feed Fang."

"I've been thinking about that." Hermione said with a curious tone. "Exactly what are you planning to feed him? It's not like either of you have brought anything with you."

"Hagrid will have left something." Harry replied confidently. Something caught his foot, and carefully he stepped over it. "Watch it, tree root."

"Thanks mate." Ron replied.

They lapsed into silence again, all three of them concentrating on where they were putting their feet, the only sound emerging from under the cloak the occasional yelp, hiss or muttered curse from Ron. It was a long way down. And it felt even longer at the pace they were travelling, but eventually the slope levelled out and Hagrid's hut seemed to be within reach.

Flatter ground underfoot, they sped up.

"Come on." Ron groused, giving Harry a little nudge to go faster. "The sooner we're inside, the sooner we can get out from under here."

"And the sooner you can stop elbowing me in the boob." Hermione grumbled, almost walking into Harry's back when both he and Ron froze. "Would you move? Honestly, all I said was boob."

"I never touched your... your..."

"Boob?" Harry sniggered.

"Well I have bruises that say otherwise. And no I won't show you." Hermione hissed. "Now come on!"

"Never said I wanted to see." Ron mumbled. "Why would I want to see your boob anyway?"

"Boys! Honestly."

"I don't want to see anyone's boob. Let alone yours."

"Ron." Harry sighed. Sometimes he had to wonder about his best friend.

"I mean, why would I want to see..."

"Ron!" Harry snapped, a little more loudly than intended. "Just forget it."

"Hang on, why are you having a go at me?" Ron groused, scowl firmly in place as Harry pushed open the door to the hut and they shuffled their way inside, pulling off the cloak as they did. "I wasn't the one who said I was touching anyone's boob."

"Can you stop saying boob please?" Hermione huffed in exasperation, wondering away from the pair.

"You said boob first." Ron replied.

"You know, boobs are actually birds." Harry offered in an amused tone. "Water birds I think."

"Really?" Ron asked with curiosity. "Why would they name birds after..."

"Guys." Hermione cut in, and something about her tone had both boys turning to face her. Biting her lip, she cast her worried expression at the two, her hand hovering near the hearth. "I think someone's been staying here. The hearth's warm."

"Does Hagrid have any relatives?" Ron asked hopefully. "Or maybe Filch has been coming down to feed Fang, and has been lighting the hearth so he doesn't get cold?"

Harry, who had moved over to the table, lifted the lid of the teapot to peer inside. Hagrid had been gone a week. Week old tea went mouldy. He knew that for a fact, and there wasn't a trace of mould in the pot. "And made him tea?"

"Well you're partly right." Hermione offered in, looking down at the bowl on the floor by the dresser. "Someone has definitely been feeding Fang. There's bits in his bowl and they look pretty fresh."

Looking over Hermione's shoulder, Harry grimaced. "Looks like leftovers of yesterday's shepherd's pie."

"So we have dog food. But no dog." Hermione observed. "He might be a great big coward, but if he was here he'd have come out and greeted us at least."

Worrying his bottom lip in his teeth, Ron cast his increasingly anxious gaze around Hagrid's small home. "I don't like this Harry."

Crossing the room to put a hand on Ron's arm, Harry gave him a reassuring pat. "Come on Ron. It's probably just Filch. And maybe Fang decided he didn't want to be alone anymore and followed him back to the castle."

Nodding, Ron took a decisive breath through his nose. "Filch right. Nothing to worry about. No dog stealing squatters here."

"Dog stealing squatters?" Hermione laughed.

"What?" Ron challenged defensively. "It might have been."

"Alright." Hermione smirked. "If you insist."

"Come on then know it all. You come up with a theory." Ron threw back at her, folding his arms over his chest.

"Or how about one of you explain why three second year Gryffindors are out here in the middle of the night?"

The voice came out of nowhere, new and unexpected and far deeper than any of their voices, although not the deepest voice any of them had ever heard. Startled, the trio turned to face its source and stepped closer to one another as they spied the man stood in the doorway. His face was scarred; his hair, like his clothes looked unwashed and although not long, it fell across his forehead and into his eyes. What drew all of their attention however, was the wand, raised and pointed at them.

"Uh uh. None of that." The newcomer said slowly, giving his wand a little flick in Harry's direction as the dark haired boy tried to surreptitiously reach for his own wand.

"Fang!" Ron suddenly cried out, and sure enough, Hagrid's black bloodhound was wriggling its way past the newcomer's legs. But he ignored Ron, and apparently aware of the tension in the room, tucked his tail between its legs and scampered past the three Gryffindors and into Hagrid's bedroom. "What did you do to Fang?!"

"Not really the issue at the moment Ron." Harry scolded, never letting his eyes leave the newcomer. Raising his chin defiantly, he clenched his fists at his sides to stop his hands from fidgeting. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"One could ask you the same question." The man replied smoothly. "It certainly isn't safe for you to be wandering around the grounds at night Harry."

Behind his glasses, Harry's green eyes narrowed to a glare. How dare this man tell him what was safe and what wasn't? He wasn't surprised to be recognised, but the irony of being told, at wand point, that it wasn't safe to be wandering the grounds at night was far from lost on him.

"Yeah, you never know when you might meet a wand wielding dog-napping maniac." Apparently the irony wasn't lost on Ron either.

"I know this doesn't look good." The newcomer began with a kind of resigned agitated disappointment. "Believe me, this isn't how I wanted our first meeting to go. But now you're here, I can't risk you running back to the school just yet."

"Oh great!" Ron blurted. "So what are you going to do? Tie us up and obliviate us?"

"Obliviate..." Hermione whispered to herself, then her head snapped up. "That's where I know you from! You're the man from the train! You cast a memory charm on the guard! You got me in detention!"

"He's probably going to kill us and all you can think about is that he got you detention?" Ron snapped incredulously at a furious looking Hermione.

He wasn't the only now looking at Hermione, and Harry saw his opportunity. While the newcomer turned away his gaze, Harry reached for his wand.

"So I was see..."

"Expelliarmus!"

The newcomer's words were cut off as Harry flicked his wand, just as he'd seen Snape do at the duelling club. The results weren't as spectacular; the newcomer did not suddenly go flying out of the door. Instead he yelped a curse as his wand was torn from his fingers and flew up into the air.

Flew up and over their heads. He couldn't help following it with his eyes, turning to watch it descend, his eyes widening as it was grasped in the dirty hand of a second intruder who had somehow managed to sneak in behind them.

Beside him Ron let out a strangled sound from the back of throat. The three of them were now so close together they formed a tight triangle in the middle of the room, taking up about as much space as a single person normally would. Frantic hands grabbed Harry's arm, yanking on his sleeve. "Harry... that's, that's..."

His own throat feeling decidedly tight, Harry raised his wand in a shaking hand. "Sirius Black."

He'd seen the posters. He'd heard the stories. But faced with the man himself, something he couldn't describe balled in his chest and rose through him like a wave of lava. He was aware, vaguely, of what felt like a struggle behind him. He was aware, vaguely, that he was stepping backwards, that they all were. The first man was visible now in his peripheral view. The three of them, two exits, and two men, one at each exit.

"Harry," Moving slowly, carefully, lowering himself and placing the wand on the floor before standing again hands raised, Black spoke for the first time, his voice gravelly and hoarse. "I need you to listen to me. I need to explain what happened..."

"I know what Happened! You betrayed my parents! You're the reason they're dead!" Harry was aware of all of it. But all he could think about was Black. All he could see was Black and nothing in the world was going to stop him...

"No Harry, that's not true." The first man spoke, but was cut off when Ron brought his wand out.

"Don't move!" He snarled, having recovered from his earlier shock. "Like we're gonna believe anything you say! You're working with him!"

Ron's distraction was apparently all that was needed for Hermione to shrug herself free of his grip, and suddenly she was standing in front of Harry, facing Black, her arm across Harry's body pushing him back towards Ron. With Harry effectively behind her and Ron holding the first man at bay with his wand, Hermione pointed her own wand at Black with an outstretched arm, eyes narrowed and expression set."Tell me why you saved me from the Basilisk!"

"Hermione?" Ron and Harry chorused in confusion, Harry trying to get around Hermione's arm but failing.

Glancing over her shoulder, her wand still aimed at Black, Hermione explained. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. That's what I worked out. He's the Dog Harry. He's an animagus."

"How long have you known?" The first man asked, his eyes narrowed with menacing curiosity.

"I finally worked it out last night." Hermione replied, turning back to the two men who'd moved closer together. No, not closer together, they were crossing paths, always keeping the three of them between them; like wolves surrounding prey. "You've been in the school since you escaped haven't you?" Then as if something clicked into place, she frowned. "You didn't come for Harry at all. You came for Pettigrew. You were going to kill him that night. In the library."

"Hermione!" Ron objected loudly.

"At Last! Someone with a bit of sense!" Black threw his hands up in the air.

"Sirius." The first man warned.

But Black clearly wasn't listening. "You're right I was going to kill him that night. And the treacherous little worm would have deserved it!" Turning his gaze to Harry, he started forward, but stopped when Hermione re-levelled her wand. "I wasn't the one who betrayed your parents Harry. He was! He sold them out and then when I caught up with him..."

"He transformed into a rat." Hermione finished for him, eyes wide. "He's an animagus too." When everyone gave her incredulous or surprised looks, she tripped over her own tongue in her haste to explain. "He told us himself his nickname at school was Wormtail! That's why he said Black turned him into a rat! But what if he was already a rat? And that's how he got the name in the first place?"

Narrowed eyed, Black looked down at Hermione. "You really are incredibly bright aren't you?"

"I don't believe you." Harry shook his head, drawing Black's attention to him.

But Hermione wasn't done. "No Harry. It makes sense. Remember what McGonagall said? Back when he was first brought back. She was amazed Pettigrew had managed to keep his sanity having been transfigured so long. She said it shouldn't have been possible!"

"It isn't possible." The first man agreed quietly. "He would have lost his mind to the form within weeks, let alone years of being transformed."

"And you always said he made you uncomfortable!" Hermione continued. "Like he was trying too hard to convince you how close friends he was with your parents, and how evil Black was."

"Just because I don't like Peter doesn't mean I'm going to believe this... fairytale!" Harry objected. "Godfathers don't just turn up out of the blue! People don't get convicted of Murder without proof!"

"I was never convicted." Black muttered quietly.

"You're mental!" Ron cried out. "What did you think they put you in Azkaban for?"

"I know what they put me in for!" Black snarled, making Ron squeak. "But I never had a trial! I was never convicted of anything! Try look it up if you like! You won't find anything!"

"If you didn't do it, why did they put you away?" Harry doggedly argued.

"Because I was there! Because it was easy and convenient and quick! And no-one argued because your Dad, Peter and I made sure everyone thought I was their secret keeper, so no-one would go after Peter! Only no-one had to go after Peter because he'd been selling us out to Voldermort..." Black rolled his eyes when Hermione and Ron winced, "for well over a year."

"Harry." The first man said gently, moving with the kind of caution that Black clearly didn't feel the need for despite the three raised wands. "I know this is a lot to take in, and goes against everything you've been told your whole life. And believe me I understand how that feels. But I swear to you, we are not here to hurt you, and the only reason we are still here at Hogwarts is because it's the safest place for Sirius to be until we can find and talk to Dumbledore. Now I'm not asking you to believe us or trust us straight away, but can you at least give us time to explain, properly. And then... and then when you leave if you still feel we're a threat, then you must do what you feel is right."

Ron scoffed loudly at the first man's words. "You can't be bloody serious. Do you expect us to believe that if we lower our wands you won't just..."

Stony faced, Harry lowered his wand. "I'll listen."

"Harry are you mental?" Ron yelped incredulously. "They'll kill us."

"If they were going to kill us they would have already." Harry reasoned. "I want to know what happened to my parents."

"Thank you Harry."The first man sighed. Suddenly he extended his hand. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I was at school with your Parents. Remus Lupin."

Beside Harry, her wand having been set on the known mass murderer, follower of Voldermort and deranged psychopath Sirius Black, Hermione blinked rapidly for a moment, before lowering her wand and facing her friends. "I think I need to sit down."

"Hermione?" Harry asked in confusion, his eyes widening as she suddenly slumped against him. "Hermione!"

Frowning, Sirius Black looked down at her. "That's the second time she's fainted around me."

"Must be your charm."