Disclaimer: I do not own anything of this story. Harry Potter and all of the notable characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
This was a story idea that my boyfriend (starwarsdude8221991) wanted me to collab with him on. Basically, he came up with the main idea and I became the scribe. He is also the beta reader for this story.
Magnolia Crescent
Chapter Four
Trouble Begins To Brew
"Harry! Where are you going?" Hermione cried, bounding down the stairs after him. Harry glanced over the banister once more; the dog was almost to the bottom. He hurried down the last staircase and saw the dog's tail disappear around a corner.
"Wait!" Harry and Hermione called together but for different reasons. Harry rounded the corner and saw the dog sitting there, watching them. He barked, leaping up and bunting his head once against Harry's hand.
"You're not a dog, are you?" Harry asked, trying to catch his breath. "You're an Animagus." With this statement the dog changed once again to a collective gasp from Ron and Hermione. Sirius Black stood before them, looking very grubby and tired.
"If I get caught," he snapped, "this is your fault!"
"Sirius Black, what's he doing here?" Ron asked, astounded.
"That's what I wanted to know," Harry replied. "I want answers."
"Then ask away." Black spread his arms open.
"Why did you escape from Azkaban?" Hermione asked before Harry could open his mouth. Harry scowled.
"To commit the crime I was imprisoned for," Black snarled.
"Killing twelve muggles? I got news for you, you're not going to be able to do that here," Ron stated in disbelief.
"Not that one, a different one, when I supposedly killed Peter Pettigrew."
"I don't remember ever hearing about that murder," Ron stated.
"Well, ask a teacher or someone about it. Perhaps they can tell you," Black said.
"Well, how do you expect to find him if he's supposed to be dead?" Harry asked.
"It's quite simple," Black said. He never got a chance to say just how simple it was. He paused to listen and got a highly panicked look on his face. "Someone's coming," he whispered, moving as if to do a cartwheel. When he landed on his palms, they were giant black paws. The dog padded silently towards Harry and nudged his hand before slipping away into the shadows.
"Harry," Hermione hissed, when suddenly a figure loomed over them. They turned to see Snape glowering behind them.
"Professor," Ron started but was cut short as the greasy haired teacher swiftly cut him off.
"The three of you, to the Great Hall," he snapped. Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "Now!" he growled. Reluctantly, they complied, each wanting to say what they had seen but Snape did not allow them to speak.
Surprisingly, the Great Hall wasn't that crowded when every student had been given sleeping bags and found a spot to sleep. Harry, Ron and Hermione found a secluded corner away from everybody else and began to discuss what had happened in whispers. They weren't the only students whispering, either. The whole Hall was buzzing with whispered conversation coming from every corner. The Head Boy and Girl, who were left in charge, came down the rows of students, reprimanding those who were talking. Each of the candles and lanterns had been extinguished and the only light was that from the enchanted ceiling above. All over the Hall, students were ignoring Percy and contemplating how Black had gotten inside the school. Every idea they came up, Hermione quietly stamped out by hissing at Ron and Harry. Only Harry, Ron and Hermione had a pretty decent idea of how Black had really gotten into the school, but even they were unsure exactly what had happened.
"I've done the dungeons, Headmaster," Snape said, walking with Dumbledore close to Harry's row. "No sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle."
"I didn't really expect him to linger," Dumbledore commented.
"Quite a marvelous feat, to enter Hogwarts castle on one's own, completely undetected?" Snape trailed off, leaving it a question. Dumbledore didn't answer, so Snape went on. "You do remember my concerns prior to the start of term – "
"I do not think a single teacher in this castle would have helped Black to enter it," Dumbledore said, cutting Snape off. "I think the students will be quite safe to return to their Houses tomorrow. As for Harry, say nothing to him. For now let him sleep, for in dreams, we enter a world that is entirely our own." The two walked away silently as Harry stared blankly ahead.
'I think it's time to find out who Peter Pettigrew is,' Harry thought, wondering why Black seemed to so easily pop up on the school grounds.
Everywhere Harry went over the next few days, he heard students thinking of the different ways that Black had gotten inside. It seemed as though all of the teachers were now watching him very closely and Professor McGonagall thought it wise that Harry stop practicing Quidditich in the evenings. After complaining that he needed to practice, McGonagall obliged but only if Madam Hooch was on the field as well. Harry left her office feeling rather frustrated since even his favorite past time seemed more and more of a chore, especially when Oliver Wood cornered the entire team in the common room that night.
"Hufflepuff!" he shouted. "Slytherin backed out and now we're playing Hufflepuff!"
"Why'd they back out?" Fred asked.
"Because 'Malfoy's arm is still injured'. What a bunch of bull!"
"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" Harry yelled, outraged.
"Yeah, well, we can't prove it. Hufflepuff has entirely different play tactics. This ruins all of our hard work!" Oliver dropped angrily into a chair.
"Why are you so worked up over it, Oliver" George asked.
"Yeah, Hufflepuff is a pushover. This match will be easy!" Fred chipped in.
"Everything is different. Their tactics, the conditions, even their team is different! We can't afford to relax and lose focus! We have to win this match!" Oliver roared. Gryffindors from the other side of the common room fell silent and looked. Oliver quickly glanced down, avoiding the embarrassment he had just caused himself.
"Don't worry, Oliver. We'll make sure that we do our best," Kaite Bell, one of the Chasers, said as she thumped Oliver on the back.
The Friday before the match was very strange indeed. Oliver was so paranoid about Harry catching the Snitch that he frequently stopped Harry in the halls, providing tips and pointers. Harry's attempts at shaking him off were worthless as Oliver would continue talking to the point of making him late for class. Only when Harry realized that he was now ten minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, did he successfully shake off Oliver. But Oliver was far from his worries when he entered his classroom.
"Sorry, Professor Lupin." But Professor Lupin wasn't there, which was highly unusual in itself. Harry quickly found his seat next to Ron, noting in the back of his mind that Hermione was not there.
Just as the class was wondering where Professor Lupin was, the door burst open to reveal a silhouetted figure. They waved their wand, causing the shutters to slam shut. Professor Snape strode to the front of the classroom, pulling down a projector screen.
"Turn to page 394," he drawled. Most of the class warily pulled their books out of their bags and did as instructed.
"Sir, where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, refusing to open his book.
"That is none of your concern, Potter. Suffice it to say that your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time." Ron was idling flipping the pages when they suddenly flew open to the page Snape had requested.
"Werewolves?" Ron asked incredulously.
"But sir, we're not due to start nocturnal beasts for weeks," Hermione spoke, unexpectedly appearing beside Harry.
"I don't believe I asked your opinion, Granger," Snape said menacingly. "Now, which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?" The class was silent; Hermione's hand went immediately into the air. "No one? Pathetic…." Hermione could stand it no longer.
"Please, sir. An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal; a werewolf has no choice. Moreover, a werewolf responds only to the call of its own kind."
"Miss Granger, that is the second time you've spoken out of turn. Tell me; are you incapable of restraining yourself? Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" Snape's tone was threatening, causing Hermione to blush furiously and bury her nose in her book. Nobody said anything as they were now deathly afraid of Snape. Seemingly pleased that no one was interrupting him, Snape continued on with the lesson.
"I expect two rolls of parchment on my desk Monday morning on how to kill a werewolf, plus particular emphasis on recognizing it!" Snape demanded, dismissing the class when the bell rang. The class hurriedly exited the classroom, breaking into grumbles and groans the instant they were out of earshot.
"What's his deal?" Harry grumbled. "Does he have something against Lupin?"
"Who knows, I hope Professor Lupin comes back real soon though," Hermione mumbled. With their bad tempers at Snape, the rest of the day didn't go too well. There was a storm pounding the sides of the castle, gales of winds creating cold drafts in the hallways and a depressed mood throughout the entire school. The storm didn't stop that night either; it continued to brew and beat against the walls, leaving Harry dreading the conditions for the next morning.
The morning of the match didn't prove to be any better; if anything, it seemed as if the storm had worsened over the course of the night. When Harry awoke, it was while everyone else was asleep and still dark. Figuring he wasn't going to get anymore sleep against the storm, Harry dressed, grabbed his Nimbus and headed towards the common room. While he was shutting the door, Crookshanks attempted to bolt inside. Harry had just enough time to grab hold of his tail and stop him.
"Stay out, Crookshanks and leave Scabbers alone," Harry said. "There are plenty of other mice here." With nothing to do until breakfast was ready, Harry wandered around the corridors. He was pleased to see that Crookshanks was no longer in the common room, but was instead walking the castle beside Harry. Luckily, he didn't chance upon a teacher or Filch. After what seemed like hours, people began to exit their dormitories and head for the Great Hall for breakfast.
Harry ate his bowl of porridge greedily, as it eased his nerves. He was almost finished when the rest of the team filed in to sit beside him. Oliver looked glum, mumbling something about the match being "a tough one".
Oliver was pretty spot on; the entire school was running headlong for the pitch, heads bowed against the rain. A couple of students had lost their umbrellas, which were now tumbling through the wind. As the team headed down, the Slytherins began laughing at them. The Gryffindors attempted to counter this with weak smiles and thumbs up.
They were just about to leave the locker room and walk onto the pitch when Hermione caught Harry's sleeve. Without a word, she took his glasses from him and tapped them with her wand.
"Impervius!" She was beaming as she handed them back.
"What did that do?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"It's a spell to repel to water. It's pouring rain out there, and we need you to be able to see." With her job complete, Hermione bounded off to take her seat in the stands. Harry walked out onto the field, and surprisingly found that Hermione's spell did, in fact, work. The wind, coupled with the thunder, was so loud that Harry could barely hear a thing. He saw more than heard Madam Hooch telling them to mount their brooms and blowing the whistle to start the match.
Even though Harry's glasses repelled water, he was still very nearsighted. More than once a Bludger nearly unseated him and once he almost collided with another player. After circling for well-nigh ten minutes, Harry caught sight of it, the Golden Snitch. It was flitting upwards, having less difficulty than most of the players; Harry tore after it. Just as he was closing in on the Snitch, everything became very still and silent. The rain seemed to freeze in the air, feeling more and more like needles as they pelted Harry's skin. Dementors were encircling the stands, hooded faces pointed in his direction. Lightening flashed; Harry glanced into the stands, searching for Professor Lupin. Perhaps he was feeling better enough to have made it to the match? There was no sign of him; rather, he saw something relatively out of sorts – a large black dog, drenched from the rain, was sitting in the empty stands at the top.
'Impossible, how is it Black seems to be everywhere at once?' Harry thought to himself, wondering if he was going mad or if Black was just that good. Harry didn't have time to think about why there was a dog there as the dementors were now ascending towards Harry. If it was possible for him to get any colder, he would have sworn that had happened.
"Not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, silly girl." The woman was screaming again, and Harry could do nothing to help her. Why was she screaming? Harry's fingers went numb, unable to cling to his Nimbus any longer and he began to slip. He fell, losing consciousness on his way down.
"Looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?"
"Peaky? He just fell fifty feet!" Fred proclaimed.
"Yeah, c'mon, Ron. We'll walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see how you come out looking." This came from George.
"Probably a right sight better than he normally does," Harry mumbled. He opened his eyes to find that he was in the hospital wing with the entire Gryffindor Quidditich team surrounding his bed, along with Ron and Hermione.
"Harry! You're awake," Hermione noted.
"What happened?" Harry asked, wincing as he sat up against his pillows.
"You fell off your broom," Fred said.
"Really? I meant the match, who won?" Harry snapped. When no one answered, Harry assumed the worst.
"No one blames you, Harry. The dementors aren't allowed to come on the grounds; Dumbledore was furious," Hermione started.
"Where's Oliver?" Harry asked, cutting Hermione off.
"Still in the showers," Fred replied.
"I reckon he's trying to drown himself," George commented.
"Don't even bother asking about a rematch," Fred said, noticing that Harry had just opened his mouth to speak. "Oliver won't allow it, not even if Diggory demands one."
"But now we haven't got a shot at winning the Quidditch cup!" Harry complained.
"We might," Ron said. "But it's slim and it all depends on the points every other team manages to get during their matches."
"Out, Potter needs rest," Madam Pomfrey announced, shooing them all away.
"Can Ron and Hermione stay, please?" Harry petitioned. When he refused to stop, Madam Pomfrey assented only if they were quiet and Harry was resting in his bed.
"I saw Black again," Harry whispered as soon as Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot.
"What was he thinking?" Hermione cried in a loud whisper. Harry looked her oddly. Black was an escaped convict, why was Hermione defending him? On the same note, how come none of them had alerted Dumbledore to this fact? When he voiced both of these concerns, they tried brushing it off.
"Harry, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but, your broom. The wind sort of blew it into the Whomping Willow," Ron stated, attempting to change the subject. Harry just noticed the blanket wrapped bundle in his arms. "Well, you know it is…."
"Ron, why haven't you told any of the teachers that Black has been inside the castle more than once?" Harry asked in a controlled whisper.
"Well, I don't know, honestly. The thought never really crossed my mind," he shrugged.
"Hermione?" Harry asked simply.
"Oh, Harry," she cried. "My intuition is usually very good and almost always right. I think he's actually telling the truth; I think he's innocent." She had a look that begged for Harry to stop questioning her.
"And what about you, mate? Why haven't you told a teacher?" Ron asked.
Harry gaped, open-mouthed, for a moment before fumbling for words.
"Exactly my point," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.
When classes started again on Monday, his fellow Defense Against the Dark Arts students began complaining to Professor Lupin the moment he walked in. It was all about the same thing: Snape and the essay he had set them. Lupin reassured them that they need not do the essay. Hermione was devastated at hearing this ("I've already done it," she had cried). The lesson was fairly enjoyable but Harry was held back at the end of class by Lupin, who said that he wanted to have a word.
"I'm sorry to hear about your broom, is there nothing that can be done?"
Harry shook his head, not wanting the memories to crop back up.
"Professor, why do the dementors affect me so much?" Harry asked, curious.
"Simply because you have true horrors in your past that your classmates do not know about," Lupin replied.
"Professor, last time we talked, I asked if you could teach me how to repel a dementor. You didn't give me a straight answer," Harry asked, choosing his words carefully.
"Are you sure that's something you want to learn how to do? It's a very difficult spell," Lupin asked.
"Positive. If they show up at another Quidditch match, I have to be prepared," Harry stated. "Well, there's not much I can do right now. Perhaps next term; I have a lot of things to take care of," Lupin said. Then, as a side note, "I choose a rather bad time to fall ill."
Harry's mood took a definite upturn; Hufflepuff lost to Ravenclaw, allowing Gryffindor to still be in the running. The only downside was that this renewed Oliver's drive to win and he pushed his team harder than ever. The dementors had not been on the grounds as Dumbledore's fury had more than likely scared them on some level. Add to that the fact that Professor Lupin was more than likely going to teach Harry how to defend himself against the dementors.
With all of the excitement that Harry was now feeling, it came as a shock to him when Professor McGonagall came around asking who was staying during Christmas break.
"Already?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, both of whom had decided to stay.
"Man, time has really flown," Ron agreed.
"When is the next Hogsmeade trip?" Harry asked, glancing around the Great Hall. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were busy decorating the trees that Hagrid was carrying in. They were covered in magical snow, golden tinsel and real bioluminescent fairies. The suits of armor had been charmed to sing Christmas carols and everlasting icicles were covering the staircases.
"Last weekend of term, why?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"Well, seeing as I can't go into Hogsmeade, I figured that while you two were gone, I'd go and see Hagrid," replied Harry.
"Shouldn't you talk to McGonagall?" Hermione prompted.
"For what?" Harry grunted.
"About how the Dursley's treat you," explained Hermione angrily. To Harry's annoyance, Hermione began to list reasons why Harry should speak to McGonagall on this. On and on it went until finally she paused to take a breath and Harry seized the opportunity.
"Okay, Hermione! I got it; if I remember, I will talk to McGonagall," Harry assented, if only to get her off his back.
The days until the Hogsmeade trip passed slowly; when the day finally arrived, Harry walked with Ron and Hermione to the entrance hall, where he bid them goodbye and then proceeded to go back upstairs and collect his Invisibility Cloak. He knew he wasn't allowed on the grounds after dark but he also didn't know how long he was going to talk with Hagrid.
"Better safe than sorry for once," Harry mumbled under his breath. On a whim, he decided to disappear underneath the cloak and headed out into the snow.
"Look, there he is," George's voice carried in a whisper over the courtyard. He and Fred made their way nonchanatly towards the front doors; just as they passed Harry, they seized him somewhere near his arms and drug him along.
"Clever, Harry."
"But not clever enough."
"Besides, we've got a better way," they said in unison, clearly thinking that he was attempting to sneak into Hogsmeade. Once inside the castle, they led him into an empty classroom and yanked the cloak off of him. Before Harry could say a word, they held out a very old piece of folded parchment.
"Bit of an early Christmas present for ya," Fred commented. Harry unfolded the parchment, only to find that it was blank.
"What is it? A joke, so you give me a bit of rubbish?" Harry asked.
"Rubbish, he says," George repeated. "That there's the secret to our success."
"It's a wrench giving it to you, but," Fred said. "We've decided your needs are greater than ours."
"Anyways," George added with a wave of his hand. "We know it by heart. Fred, if you will."
Fred took out his wand and placed the tip upon the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." At once, ink burst forth on the parchment, twisting into lines and dots and words.
"A map?" Harry asked, astounded, when the ink had finally stopped moving. "'Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present The Marauder's Map'. You really are joking, right?"
"We owe them so much," George said, jokingly wiping his eye.
"This is Hogwarts," Harry noted. "And that's, no. Is that really?"
"Dumbledore."
"In his study."
"Pacing."
"Does that a lot, actually."
"So, this map shows everyone?" Harry asked.
"Everyone."
"Where they are."
"What they're doing."
"Every minute."
"Of every day." Harry was getting whiplash from the twins finishing each other's sentences.
"This is brilliant!" Harry grinned. "Where'd you get it?"
"Nicked it from Filch's office, of course," Fred proclaimed proudly. "First year. There are seven secret passageways out of the castle. We recommend…"
"This one," George stated, pointing it out on the map. It'll lead you straight into Honeyduke's cellar."
"When you're done, give it a tap and say 'mischief managed'," the twins chimed. "Otherwise anyone can read it." They both turned towards the door.
"Mind you behave yourself," Fred said with a grin. With that, he left the room after his brother. Harry stood there, dumbstruck, thinking only that he was glad to have his Invisibility Cloak on him.
As always, let me know what you think. Hopefully the next chapter will be done in about a week!