Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 15- Cat, Rat, and Dog
My mind has gone blank with shock. The four of us stand transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cloak. The very last rays of the setting sun are casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind us, they hear a wild howling. A shiver runs down my spine. This is not going to be good.
"Hagrid," Harry mutters. Without thinking about what he is doing, he makes to turn back, but Ron, Hermione, and I seize his arms.
"We can't," says Ron, who is paper-white. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him. . . ."
Hermione's breathing is shallow and uneven. "How — could — they?" she chokes. "How could they?"
"They're low down slimy bribe taking gits, that's how." I growl through a voice choked with tears.
"Come on," says Ron, whose teeth seem to be chattering.
We set off back towards the castle, walking slowly to keep ourselves hidden under the Cloak. The light is fading fast now. By the time we reach open ground, darkness is settling like a spell around us.
"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hisses, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat is wriggling madly. Ron comes to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still — OUCH! He bit me!" Funny, Scabbers has never bit Ron before.
"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispers urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute —"
"He won't — stay — put —" Scabbers is plainly terrified. He is writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip.
"What's the matter with him?"
But I have just seen — slinking toward us, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness — Crookshanks. Whether he can see us or is following the sound of Scabbers's squeaks, I cann't tell.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione moans. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"
But the cat was getting nearer —
"Scabbers — NO!" Too late — the rat has slipped between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampers away. In one bound, Crookshanks springs after him, and before we can stop him, Ron has thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelts away into the darkness.
"Ron!" I moan.
Hermione, Harry, and I look at each other, then follow at a sprint; it is impossible to run full out under the Cloak; we pull it off and it streams behind us like a banner as we hurtle after Ron; we can hear his feet thundering along ahead and his shouts at Crookshanks.
"Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —" There is a loud thud. "Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —"
I almost fall over Ron; we skidded to a stop right in front of him. He is sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers is back in his pocket; he has both hands held tight over the quivering lump.
"Maybe you should let him go Ron. He obviously doesn't want to go back, and he is old you know." I pant attempting to catch my breath after the sudden sprint that we had just partaken in.
"Ron — come on — back under the cloak —" Hermione pants. "Dumbledore — the Minister — they'll be coming back out in a minute —"
But before we can cover ourselves again, before we can even catch our breath, we hear the soft pounding of gigantic paws. . . . Something is bounding toward us out of the dark — an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. Oh Merlin this is so not good. I shouldn't have thought that this could get any worse.
Harry reaches for his wand, but too late — the dog has made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keels over backwards in a whirl of hair; he feels its hot breath, sees inch-long teeth —
But the force of its leap has carried it too far; it rolls off him. Dazed, Harry tries to stand up; we can hear it growling as it skids around for a new attack.
Ron is on his feet. As the dog springs back toward them he pushes Harry aside; the dog's jaws fasten instead around Ron's outstretched arm. I lunge forward, and seize a handful of the brute's hair, but it is dragging Ron away as easily as though he is a rag doll —
No one can take my friend not when I have something to say about it. Then, out of nowhere, something hits me so hard across the face I am knocked off my feet again. I hit the ground hard with a crack of my head. I groan painfully as I heard Hermione and Harry cry out in pain and fall to the ground as well.
I groped for my wand, blinking blood out of my eyes. I seriously don't feel that good.
"Lumos!" I whisper. I think that I can hear Harry saying the same thing, and the sudden brightness causes me to wince and the headache that I now have to triple in size. I let out another groan of pain.
The wandlight shows me the trunk of a thick tree; we have chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and its branches are creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop us going nearer.
And there, at the base of the trunk, is the dog, dragging Ron backwards into a large gap in the roots — Ron is fighting furiously, but his head and torso are slipping out of sight —
"Ron!" Harry shouts, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whips lethally through the air and he is forced backward again. I manage to scramble to my feet unsteadily and over to Hermione, who grabs me by the arm to keep me upright.
All we can see now is one of Ron's legs, which he has hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cuts the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg has broken, and a moment later, his foot vanishes from sight.
No… we can't let this happen! "Harry — we've got to go for help —" Hermione gasps; she is bleeding too; the Willow has cut her across the shoulder. I stumble from my spot beside her. The ground is not supposed to be rolling.
"No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time —" Harry yells.
"We're never going to get through without help —" Hermione cries, making me wince from how loud she is.
Another branch whips down at us, twigs clenched like knuckles. "If that dog can get in, we can," Harry pants, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he can't get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the tree's blows.
We're never going to get Ron back at this rate, and I fear that I may be sick. "Oh, help, help," Hermione whispers frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot her grip on me tightening, "please . . ."
Crookshanks darts forward. He slithers between the battering branches like a snake and places his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.
Abruptly, as though the tree has been turned to marble, it stops moving. Not a leaf twitches or shakes.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione whispers uncertainly. She now grasps Harry's arm painfully hard as well. "How did he know — ?"
"He's friends with that dog," saus Harry grimly. "I've seen them together. Come on — and keep your wand out —"
"I think I may be sick…" I mutter queasily. Harry and Hermione glance at me worriedly. Hermione rips off a piece of her shirt and pushes it against the seeping gash on my head. I wince it pain.
"We need to rescue Ron. We can get Jamie help after we're done. If we go to Madam Pomfrey now they'll never let us back out and we need to all be here to fight this thing." Harry says quickly staunching any arguments that Hermione could have come up with about splitting up.
Hermione gives Harry and cross look but sighs anyway. They cover the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before we have reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks has slid into it with a flick of his bottlebrush tail. Harry goes next; he crawls forward, headfirst, and slides down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Hermione and I follow, though the slide makes my head spin more. Crookshanks is a little way along, his eyes flashing in the light from Harry's wand. Seconds later, Hermione slithers down beside us.
"Where's Ron?" I whisper in a terrified voice.
"This way," says Harry, setting off, bent-backed, after Crookshanks.
"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asks breathlessly from behind us.
"I don't know. . . . It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it. . . . It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it ends up in Hogsmeade. . . ."
We move as fast as we can, bent almost double; ahead of us, Crookshanks's tail bobs in and out of view. On and on goes the passage; it feels at least as long as the one to Honeydukes. . . . All I can think of wis Ron and what the enormous dog might be doing to him and the pain in my head. . . . I am drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch. . . .
And then the tunnel begins to rise; moments later it twists, and Crookshanks has gone. Instead, I can see a patch of dim light through a small opening. Where on earth are we? I grab Hermione again before I fall.
We pause, gasping for breath, edging forward. All three of us raise our wands to see what lies beyond.
It is a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper is peeling from the walls; there are stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture is broken as though somebody has smashed it. The windows are all boarded up. Strange, but I think that I may know where we are.
Harry glances at Hermione, and gives me a frightened look but nods. Harry pulls himself out of the hole, staring around. The room is deserted, but a door to our right stands open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Hermione suddenly grabs Harry's arm again. Her wide eyes are traveling around the boarded windows.
"Harry," she whispers, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."
I look around. My eyes fall on a wooden chair near us. Large chunks have been torn out of it; one of the legs has been ripped off entirely.
"Ghosts didn't do that," I say slowly.
At that moment, there is a creak overhead. Something has moved upstairs. The three of us look up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on my arm is so tight I am losing feeling in his fingers, but its keeping me alert. Harry raises his eyebrows at us; we nod again and let go.
Quietly as we can, we creep out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe has been made by something being dragged upstairs. Oh Merlin no, this is the start of every wizard horror story that I've ever heard. We're going to follow the trail to Ron, and then we're all going to die!
I had so much that I wanted to do with my life! We reach the dark landing. "Nox," we whisper together, and the lights at the end of our wands go out. Only one door is open. As we creep towards it, we hear movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. We exchanged a last look, a last nod.
Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicks the door wide open. On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of us. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which sticks out at a strange angle, is Ron. Thank Merlin he's all right! I don't know what I'd do without him, even at the times when he is being a gigantic prat!
Harry and Hermione dash across to him, while I take my time staggering over so that I don't fall. "Ron — are you okay?"
"Where's the dog?" Harry asks.
"Not a dog," Ron moans. His teeth are gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap —"
"What —"
"He's the dog . . . he's an Animagus. . . ." Ron is staring over Harry's shoulder. We wheel around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closes the door behind us.
A mass of filthy, matted hair hangs to his elbows. If eyes haven't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he may be a corpse. The waxy skin is stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looks like a skull. His yellow teeth are bared in a grin. It is Sirius Black. I am terrified. With my impaired coordination and sheer fright, I fall to the floor next to Ron is a bloody daze.
I start shaking in shock and intense fear. It's him… I can't believe that it's him again! This can't be happening… no, no, no. "Expelliarmus!" he croaks, pointing Ron's wand at us.
Harry, Hermione's, and my wands shoot out of our hands, high in the air, and Black catches them. Then he takes a step closer. His eyes are fixed on Harry. This is bad, really bad!
"I thought you'd come and help your friend," he says hoarsely. His voice sounds as though he has long since lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful . . . it will make everything much easier. . . ."
At that I just shut down. The fear is the only thing controlling me now. Hermione inches closer to me and Ron with a worried look on her face. Without knowing what he is doing, Harry starts forward, but there is a sudden movement on either side of him and two pairs of hands grab him and hold him back. . . . "No, Harry!" Hermione gasps in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, speaks to Black.
"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" he says fiercely, though the effort of standing upright is draining him of still more color, and he sways slightly as he speaks.
Something flickers in Black's shadowed eyes. "Lie down," he says quietly to Ron. "You will damage that leg even more. And the girl over there is so injured that she wouldn't be able to help you out anyway." Black says.
"Did you hear me?" Ron says weakly, though he is clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. "You'll have to kill all four of us!"
"There'll be only one murder here tonight," says Black, and his grin widens.
"Why's that?" Harry spits, trying to wrench himself free of Ron and 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?"
"Harry!" Hermione whimpers. "Be quiet!"
"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roars, and with a huge effort he breaks free of Hermione's and Ron's restraint and lunges forward —
Perhaps it is the shock of Harry doing something so stupid, but Black doesn't raise the wands in time — one of Harry's hands fastens over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collide with the side of Black's head and they fall, backward, into the wall —
Hermione is screaming; Ron is yelling; there is a blinding flash as the wands in Black's hand send a jet of sparks into the air that miss Harry's face by inches; Harry punches every inch of Black that he can reach.
But Black's free hand has found Harry's throat —
"No," he hissed, "I've waited too long —"
The fingers tighten, Harry chokes, his glasses askew. Then he sees Hermione's foot swing out of nowhere. Black lets go of Harry with a grunt of pain; Ron has thrown himself on Black's wand hand and Harry hears a faint clatter —
He fights free of the tangle of bodies and sees his own wand rolling across the floor; he throws himself toward it but —
"Argh!" Crookshanks has joined the fray; both sets of front claws have sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry throws him off, but Crookshanks now darts toward Harry's wand —
"NO YOU DON'T!" roars Harry, and he aims a kick at Crookshanks that makes the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatches up his wand and turns —
"Get out of the way!" he shouts at Ron and Hermione. Meanwhile I'm attempting to fight my way out of my fear induced comatose state, but the pull of being numb to everything going on is strong.
They don't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambles aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands. Ron crawls to the four-poster and collapses onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching his broken leg.
Black is sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rises and falls rapidly as he watches Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart.
"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispers. Harry stops right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise is rising around Black's left eye and his nose is bleeding.
"You killed my parents," says Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.
Black stares up at him out of those sunken eyes. "I don't deny it," he says very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story —"
"The whole story?" Harry repeats, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."
"You've got to listen to me," Black says, and there is a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't. . . . You don't understand. . . ."
"I understand a lot better than you think," says Harry, and his voice shakes more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum . . . trying to stop Voldemort killing me . . . and you did that . . . you did it. . . ."
"Harry… you may want to listen to him. If not then you'll never know what happened that night. B-Besides… h-he didn't kill me that night when he h-ha the chance to." I finally manage to stutter from my catatonia.
Before any of us can say another word, something ginger streaks past Harry; Crookshanks leaps onto Black's chest and settles himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinks and looks down at the cat.
"Get off," he murmurs, trying to push Crookshanks off him. How odd? But Crookshanks sinks his claws into Black's robes and won't shift. He turns his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looks up at him with those great yellow eyes. To his right, Hermione gives a dry sob.
I can see it in the look in Harry's eyes and the way that he raises his wand up. He's going to kill Black. I shiver in fright of what is going on and what is going to happen. How did I wake up in this nightmare today?
The seconds lengthen. And still Harry stands frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing comes from the bed; Hermione is quite silent.
And then comes a new sound —
Muffled footsteps are echoing up through the floor — someone is moving downstairs.
"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screams suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE — SIRIUS BLACK — QUICK!" The scream is enough to jolt me from my state again, only to have the pain, nausea, and fear hit me all at once again, and send me back under.
The door of the room bursts open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheels around as Professor Lupin comes hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flicker over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, to me frozen on the ground bloody, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.
"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouts. Harry's wand flies once more out of his hand; so does the two Hermione is holding. Lupin catches them all deftly, then moves into the room, staring at Black, who still has Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.
Then Lupin speaks in an odd voice, a voice that shakes with some suppressed emotion.
"Where is he, Sirius?" Lupin asks. Black's face is quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he doesn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raises his empty hand and points straight at Ron.
"But then . . . ," Lupin mutters, staring at Black so intently it seems he is trying to read his mind, ". . . why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" — Lupin's eyes suddenly widen, as though he is seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see — "unless he was the one . . . unless you switched . . . without telling me?"
Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nods. "Professor," Harry interrupts loudly, "what's going on — ?"
Lupin is lowering his wand, gazing fixedly at Black. The professor walks to Black's side, seizes his hand, pulls him to his feet so that Crookshanks falls to the floor, and embraces Black like a brother.
I feel as though the bottom has dropped out of my stomach as I come out of shock once more at the sight.
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screams. Lupin lets go of Black and turns to her. She has raised herself off the floor and is pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You — you —"
"Hermione —"
"— you and him!"
"Hermione, calm down —"
"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieks. "I've been covering up for you —"
"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin shouts. "I can explain —"
"I trusted you," Harry shouts at Lupin, his voice wavering out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"
"You're wrong," says Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain. . . ."
"NO!" Hermione screams. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!"
There is a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes are now on Lupin, who looks remarkably calm, though rather pale.
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he says. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead. . . ." An odd shiver passes over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."
Ron makes a valiant effort to get up again but falls back with a whimper of pain. Lupin makes toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasps, "Get away from me, werewolf!"
Lupin stops dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turns to Hermione and says, "How long have you known?"
"Ages," Hermione whispers. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay. . . ."
"He'll be delighted," says Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant. . . . Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"
"Both," Hermione says quietly. Lupin forces a laugh.
"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."
"I'm not," Hermione whispers. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"
"But they already know," says Lupin. "At least, the staff do."
"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" Ron gasps. "Is he mad?"
"Some of the staff thought so," says Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy —"
"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yells. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He is pointing at Black, who suddenly crosses to the four-poster bed and sinks onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leaps up beside him and steps onto his lap, purring. Ron edges away from both of them, dragging his leg.
"I have not been helping Sirius," says Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —"
He separates Harry's, Ron's, Hermione's, and my wands and throws each back to its owner; Harry catches his, stunned, and mine lands in my lap. Lupin shoots me a worried glance.
"There," says Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"
"If you haven't been helping him," Harry says, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"
"The map," says Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —"
"You know how to work it?" Harry says suspiciously.
"Of course I know how to work it," says Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school."
"You wrote — ?"
"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, Hermione, and Jamie might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"
He has started to pace up and down, looking at us. Little patches of dust rise at his feet. "You might have been wearing your father's old Cloak, Harry —"
"How d'you know about the Cloak?"
"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it . . . ," says Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."
"What?" says Harry. "No, we weren't!"
"I couldn't believe my eyes," says Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"
"No one was with us!" says Harry.
"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black. . . . I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"
"One of us!" Ron says angrily.
"No, Ron," says Lupin. "Two of you." He has stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.
"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he says evenly.
"What?" says Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"
"Everything," says Lupin. "Could I see him, please?" Ron hesitates, then puts a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerges, thrashing desperately; Ron has to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stands up on Black's leg and makes a soft hissing noise.
Lupin moves closer to Ron. He seems to be holding his breath as he gazes intently at Scabbers.
"What?" Ron says again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"
"That's not a rat," croaks Sirius Black suddenly.
"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"
"No, he's not," says Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."
"An Animagus," says Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew." I jolt out of my fog, and ignore the sharp stab of pain that slices through my head. Wait a minute, a man has risen from the dead, and been reincarnated as a rat? What have I gotten myself into?