"GET — HIM — OUT — OF — HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks' claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.

Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it. . . ."

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry said.

"It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!"

But Harry, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats living only three years, couldn't help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life…

…Ron left the bedroom, taking his surly attitude and Scabbers to the bathroom. Harry was left alone, shaking his head in disbelief at the strange happenings that had been going on around him. It seemed as though drama followed him wherever he went. His third year at Hogwarts' was somehow turning out to be even crazier than his first two years combined. Snape and Slytherins seemed to loathe him more and more as each day passed and haunted his every move. Homework and demanding quidditch practices were absorbing every moment of his spare time. A psychotic murderer was lurking about, who apparently wanted nothing more in life than to place Harry's head on a stake.

And now Hermione's cat appeared to have developed an extreme vendetta against Ron's rat. Harry foresaw quite a bit of quarreling on the horizon between his two best friends, for which he would no doubt be dragged into playing mediator. Harry knew cats and rats were natural enemies, but Crookshanks seemed to be taking things much too far – poor Scabbers!

Harry had just noticed how weak and pathetic the rat had looked – the pathetic little thing must be on its last legs. Ron complained all the time about what a useless and lazy pet Scabbers was, but Harry could read between the lines. Harry knew Ron would be devastated if his childhood pet died, no matter how much he complained about it. Harry glanced at Hedgewig and a tight lump formed in his throat – he knew what a special place pets could have in their owners' hearts.

Harry's thoughts moved from the sad state of Ron's pet to the new broom lying on his bed, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen – a brand new Firebolt! With this marvel of wizard engineering by his side for this year's gaming season, the Quidditch Cup would reside with the Gryffindors for sure!

Ron trundled back into the bedroom in a slightly better mood, but Scabbers was still squealing and trying to wriggle free from his owner. But by the time the two best friends headed downstairs for the Hogwarts' Christmas brunch, the broom and quidditch had their undivided attention and Ron's pet rat was snuggled up quietly in his blankets.

Wormtail watched the two young boys exit the bedroom, heard their excited voices echoing the hallway. How he wished he was younger, back to a time when all he cared about was Quidditch and homework. He took a deep breath and slowly took in his surroundings with beady little eyes. The empty bedroom was filled with festive wrapping paper, gold and scarlet banners with lions inlaid with jeweled beads and scattered textbooks. Wormtail scurried out from under Ron's covers and sat on a large window sill, looking down at the Hogwarts' campus. Snow was lightly falling, giving the ground a gentle white blanket.

What in the goddamn hell was going on here? How was any of this possible? How had Black uncovered his secret? How did that animal escape the dark fortress in the North Sea? This while situation had seemed inconceivable only a few months ago. He had thought living in shadows as a pathetic household pet was a miserable enough existence. It had been a boring, yet comfortable life – not quite the future he imagined, but peaceful enough. He deserved such tranquility after the turmoil and danger he had to endure during the First Wizarding War.

After setting off the huge explosion on that crowded street so many years ago, Peter transformed into Wormtail and lived in the sewers under London for several months, surviving on discarded food and muddy water. When the Dark Lord had failed to survive the Halloween attack, Wormtail accepted that he would have to make his own arrangements to secure a safe future.

He knew he would have been safer settling down with a muggle family, but he was loathe to leave the wizarding world entirely. He also wanted to have the opportunity to stay current with happenings in the wizarding world in case the Dark Lord rose again. Many of the rats he came across in his travels mentioned rumors of His return, of a dark menace that lurked in the shadows.

Wormtail had snuck into a magical pet shop one night, many months after his 'death', and had quickly been purchased by a studious-looking young boy with flaming red hair. It had been a rather smooth ride for Wormtail since that fortuitous day in the pet shop. The Weasley family wasn't wealthy, but what the lacked in monetary wherewithal, they more than made up for in love. Wormtail had been rechristened Scabbers and settled down into a comfy life.

The long summer days were spent eating leftovers from the kitchen table, sitting in the warm shade of the sun on the grounds of the Burrow and snuggling up to a loving owner at night. The mistress of the house was an amazing cook and treated him so tenderly, always tossing him bits of tasty meat and cheese while she cooked.

The burrow was surrounded by wide open spaces and at night Wormtail would find the courage to explore the nearby grounds. He would roam open meadows, chasing down worms and small insects. When he was feeling especially melancholy and reminiscing for his 'human' life, he would transform into Peter and walk the Earth as a man once again. He began to 'run away' for days at a time – visiting sketchy pubs and disreputable bath houses with money he pilfered from the very family housing and feeding him.

Soon it was time for Percy to head back to school and the majority of the year was soon spent at Hogwarts – Wormtail's old stomping grounds and the place where he had been the most content. The initial trip to school had terrified Wormtail, he thought he would die of anxiety on the train ride. Would he somehow be spotted? That old fool was still running things and might be able to sense him!

But after a terrifying few weeks, which he spent mostly cowering in Percy's pockets, Wormtail settled down and even began to enjoy Hogwarts once again. Being back on campus reminded him of his Marauder days – the happiest period of his life. He would scurry off and explore the school grounds while his owner was in class, and he soon discovered nooks and crannies that even the famed Marauder's Map did not show.

Eventually the Weasley clan welcomed a sweet young daughter into their fold, whom Wormtail could immediately tell would grow into a beautiful young woman. He found himself sneaking into her room at night to watch her sleep – how innocent, how lovely. He could easily transform into Peter while she slept, he could easily…no, no, it wasn't worth the risk! I must control myself.

He was cared for, well fed and loved as Scabbers – he had more than enough, more than he deserved. But what he had the most of was time. During the first few years of his time as Percy's pet he had suffered from anxiety and depression, for his duplicity had wrought the destruction of two of his best friends. James was now a cold body, part of the hard ground. Sirius was locked away forever in the worst place on the face of the Earth. And I sent them to these terrible fates! Wormtail was haunted by their faces, their cries of anguish echoed in his mind as he tried to sleep.

As the years passed, Wormtail began to develop another view on what had transpired so long ago – history is written by the victors and survivors. Was it really his fault? Should I feel so guilty? Honestly, what could I have done? Would anyone in my situation done anything differently? The Dark Lord had power the Order knew not – He had weapons none possessed – for He was the most fearsome and powerful dark wizard of all time. What could I have done? Fought him?

In fact, it was the Order's fault that the war had gone on so long and they forced my hand. They should have protected me better, treated me with more respect! I was always given the most mundane assignments. Ferrying people back and forth to meetings, watching over children that had no bearing on the war. James and Sirius had stopped including me towards the end, and even gentle Remus, where was he when I needed him most? They were all supposed to be best friends, best friends forever. But once James married her everything changed. They were the new gang of four – I was replaced by that vindictive bitch.

Wormtail had always been smart, smarter than anyone in the Order ever gave him credit for. He had read the tea leaves, sensed the tides were changing. It had been so obvious – the Dark Lord and His Death Eaters were going to win the war, the Order was a sinking ship destined to crash amongst the rocks. Switching sides had been the safest route, the obvious move to anyone who had their eyes open.

Was he supposed to die in anonymity, in a dark corner somewhere – an ignominious death just because his friends were stubborn and headstrong and refused to see the light?! No, he wouldn't sacrifice his life for such an unworthy cause, wouldn't get himself killed for friends who never truly cared for him. He would earn a place at the new table. He would secure a future with a leader who knew what he was doing, who had the vision to lead wizards to a golden future, who had the power and strength to change the course of humanity itself.

Wormtail was a survivor.

A lump formed in Sirius' throat and an earnest sensation enveloped his body – the warm, fuzzy feeling one gets when seeing a long lost friend. As he stepped through the open portrait hole and crossed the threshold to the Gryffindor common room, happy memories came roaring back to his fractured mind. Carefree jokes, exciting adventures, time spent with his best friends – it felt as though he was finally coming home after a long, arduous journey.

A warm fire was blazing and not a student was in sight in the Gryffindor common room. Scattered streamers and party favors were strewn about the room – remnants from the epic party the Gryffindors had thrown earlier that night to celebrate their resounding quidditch victory over Ravenclaw.

How amazing would it feel to sink my tired bones into one of those cozy armchairs by the fireplace, just melt into the fabric and drift away to sleep? Sirius stared longingly at the fire – his eyes went unfocused as he wished with all his heart to go back in time and relive the happier times of his youth. After a few minutes Sirius snapped back to reality – his eyes narrowed as he stared at the staircase that led to the boys' dormitory.

Sirius gently eased open the door to the Gryffindor third years' bedroom. He made quite an intimidating sight – filthy matted hair, torn robes and a skeletal frame. His face wore an unsettling scowl and smelt as if he had not had a proper shower in his entire life.

"Peter…where are you Peter? Come out and play…"

Sirius' whispers floated into the room, just soft enough to not wake the slumbering boys. Sirius rifled through trunks, bookcases and closets. Peter had always been a coward – Sirius was sure the rat would come scurrying out in fright at any moment. But after a few minutes of rummaging, Sirius still had not spooked his prey. In fact, he had found nothing!

Twelve years of wrongful imprisonment can do quite a bit of damage to one's psyche and personality. Sirius suffered many mental degradations to his true nature – terrible anger and impatience were now overriding traits of his. He picked up and threw Ron's trunk against the wall in a moment of frustration. As the trunk slammed into stone, Sirius ripped open Ron's bed curtains and unsheathed a long silver blade. He pushed the shocked boy aside and began stabbing the mattress, ripping open the bedding and destroying the fabric underneath.

Ron stared in uncomprehending disbelief for a few seconds as a terrifying, ghostly specter materialized from thin air and raged down on him. The menace appeared to be trying to stab him, but was somehow missing his body. Pure shock coursed through his entire body and left through his toes. Ron then unleashed a piercing howl – the kind of cry only a scared child can manage to produce.

The yell woke Sirius from his angry trance and he backed away quickly from the yelling teenager. As bodies began to stir from the other beds, Sirius realized his poorly organized trespass had come to an end. He cast an angry glance around the bedroom and took off for the staircase. He bounded down the stairs and tore through the portrait hole – headed straight for the statue of a one eyed witch on the third floor.

Crookshanks opened a sleepy eye and watched his new master trundle back into the bedroom. She woke early to study and stayed up late to do homework, how could she possibly have the energy to be walking about at this time of hour? Crookshanks felt tired just thinking about Hermione's school schedule. He could not figure out how she had enough hours in the day to complete her work.

Hermoine walked into her bedroom with her dorm mates – they were talking excitedly about some commotion downstairs. These children and their sports! How much celebrating could they do in one night, my goodness. Crookshanks closed his eye and buried his face into one of his paws, trying to fall back asleep. But then he heard one of the girls utter the name Sirius Black, and he was up in an instant. He crawled to the door and slipped out just as Hermoine shut it.

Crookshanks was half-Kneazle – a magical feline creature. His magical blood made him much smarter than you average housecat and allowed him to understand humans with uncanny accuracy. The owner of the pet shop he have resided in for so long had always assumed no one wanted to buy him due to his ugly face and pugnacious attitude, but the truth was Crookshanks was not stand offish or unfriendly – he just had no tolerance for stupidity. And it would be a cold day in hell before he allowed himself to be sold to some foolish child. But Hermoine was no ordinary witch and he found himself immediately smitten with the clever young girl. And he would be damned if anything happened to her on his watch.

Crookshanks snuck his way past an annoying seventh year prefect barking orders to other students in the common room, winded between the legs of an angry teacher yelling at a knight in a portrait and jumped up on a low wall lining a long school corridor. As Crookshanks turned a corner, he spied a large window. He opened the latch and leapt from the window, onto the braches of a large tree sitting in an open courtyard. Down the tree, through the courtyard, and soon Crookshanks was trotting past the school greenhouse and headed towards the Forbidden Forest, where the strange man had been living during this school year. What had the angry fool done now?

"What do you mean he's gone!?"

Crookshanks stared up at the odd man. He had never met a creature before that could transform from man to animal and back again. He had a feeling his life was going to get more and more interesting, as long as Hermoine remained his master.

"The rat has fled."

"Where to?"

"How should I know?"

"You fool! You let him escape! I should grind you into an orange furry pulp and feed you to the birds!"

Crookshanks hissed at the angry filthy man and began to turn away.

"Where do you think you're going cat?!"

"I'm not your servant or one of those scared little children. I'm done with you and your insane plans old man."

Sirius let out an angry sigh.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Come now, tell me what you know."

Crookshanks kept walking, he was done helping this ingrate.

"Please cat, come back…she will remain in danger as long as the rat is running around unchecked."

Crookshanks stopped, his bottle bush tail swaying as he weighed his options. He turned his squishy face around and sized up Sirius with large amber eyes – could this psychopath really be the best chance of catching a murderer and keeping his master safe?

"I thought we agreed I would investigate the castle and you would stay out here with the other wild creatures."

"I was getting impatient and you gave me that list of house passwords…"

"That was a mistake, trusting you – you were to stay out here till I came to fetch you. That was the agreement. Animals are meant to be indoors."

"Yes, yes, fine. I made a mistake, okay? Now tell me what you know."

"If you had waited till we spoke, you would have known that the rat has fled the castle, or at least fled that annoying boy's bedroom."

"What?!"

"He's gone. The children believe he's been killed. It seems as if he laid evidence that I snuck into the child's room and ate him. He's more cunning than you led me to believe. A fat idiot –that is how you referred to him when we last spoke."

"Faked his death…I should have known…"

"Old dog, with his old tricks. What now? He must have fled for parts unknown. He could be anywhere."

Sirius sat down on a broken log, looking more tired and frail than ever. Wormtail had wiggled out of trouble, again! But where would he go? He was a coward, afraid of pain, only thought of himself. He would gravitate to people who were stronger, who could protect him. Sirius did not really believe Peter wanted to kill Harry or his friends – the damned rat had ample opportunities over the last twelve years to do just that. No – Peter just wanted to be safe, to be comfortable.

He would not have fled Hogwarts, not just yet. He probably needed somewhere safe and quiet to think. Somewhere to plan his next move. And he felt comfortable at Hogwarts, had spent the majority of his life within these grounds. Rats don't readily leave their comfortable nest, do they? Pete is close by, I can feel it.

"No – he's still here, still on campus. He hasn't left just yet."

"What shall we do now?"

"We'll do what cats do best…"

"And what, may I ask, is that?"

"We're gonna hunt us down a tasty rat."