"Harry Potter," Sirius said urgently. Outside the cottage, he could hear Remus and Matt gasping and groaning as they began to transform. In the mirror he could see the floor of one of Hogwarts' corridors. "Harry?" He heard a startled sound that was decidedly not Harry, and—as Harry's mirror moved—caught sight of a heeled, pink shoe. Sirius ended the mirror call immediately, mind reeling:
Umbridge—because he was sure it had been her foot he'd just seen—had Harry's mirror. He didn't know why or how.. had Harry been caught? Had Runcorn? It was a distinct possibility, since Runcorn wasn't here, which meant he was still in the school, which meant there was a werewolf loose in the school. As an animagus, Harry was as safe as it was possible to be, but Harry was also the type to put himself between a werewolf and someone else… and if Harry was seen…
Remus—probably Moony now—howled outside and Sirius let out a string of particularly filthy curses as he drew his wand.
It cost him several previous seconds to decide how to word his message; he had no way of knowing who might be around when it was received.
He thought of Stella—who just that afternoon had tried to say his name: Siws, she'd said—and three silvery dogs burst from his wand. There was one for Dumbledore—because if anyone could stop a werewolf without harming it, it would be him—one for Harry, and one for McGonagall the only other animagus at Hogwarts:
"Tell them: I don't know where he is!"
Runcorn collided with Harry with more force than he would have thought possible, and Harry—lacking a front paw—wasn't able to brace himself properly.
They tumbled along the ground, Runcorn snapping at every part of Harry he seemed able to reach until Harry managed to get his front paw between them and shove him away.
They both sprang to their feet, Harry much less gracefully than Runcorn.
Harry forced himself to relax—or at least look a little less aggressive—and made a soft whuffing sound that he hoped came across as friendly and reassuring.
Runcorn did not return it.
A silver dog materialised between them, and, in Padfoot's voice said, "I don't know where he is!" and then vanished. He sounded frantic—must be frantic. And Harry had no way to tell him what had happened, that they were—mostly—okay, and that the situation was—somewhat—under control.
Runcorn's scent was confused and angry and a little scared—none of which boded well; he didn't know Harry, didn't know the Room, and had surely been startled by the patronus.
Don't let anything else in, Harry told the Room.
Runcorn circled Harry, sizing him up; Harry could smell it, the cool consideration, could see it in the other wolf's eyes.
Every wolf instinct Harry had was screaming at him to submit or retreat; Runcorn was perhaps a little smaller than Moony, but still bigger than Harry. If they stood side by side, Harry was fairly sure the tips of his ears would only reach Runcorn's shoulder.
Runcorn paused and bent to sniff the cloak. Harry growled and Runcorn backed away from it and resumed his circling.
They couldn't stay here all night, not in what was essentially a pit in the Room, but the tunnel Harry'd shouted for Ron to make had not appeared.
He barked twice, loudly, hoping to prompt Ron, and then Runcorn lunged toward him.
Harry was incredibly grateful for his thick ruff; Runcorn seemed to be doing his best to bite the back of Harry's neck—to force him into submission or to hurt him, Harry wasn't certain. He didn't think Runcorn had broken the skin, but he was sure he'd have bruises—
Runcorn got a better purchase as Harry tried to wriggle free and gave him a shake.
Pain shot through Harry's neck and he yelped, reacting on instinct; he twisted and bit Runcorn's snout.
Runcorn let go for a moment, then surged forward again—
Right into a wall which had popped up between them.
Ron.
Harry scrambled away, teeth bared and hackles raised.
Runcorn got to his feet, his own teeth bared and muzzle beading bright red blood against silvery fur.
He wasn't watching Harry now, though, or not just Harry. His eyes were directed upward, fixed on Ron with all the intensity of a predator watching its prey.
When Runcorn moved a moment later, it was much faster than Harry had expected. He leapt at the wall, though it was several storeys high and he had to know he wouldn't be able to clear it—
He made it about seven feet up, scrabbling at the stone. Only then, rather than slide down, he clung there. To Harry's horror, the Room had responded to Runcorn's desire not to fall and created handholds.
Runcorn strained and then began to claw at the wall; each time, the stone seemed to sink away between his feet to give him better purchase.
No, Harry thought, and urged the stone to smoothen. Runcorn fell with a howl of outrage, landed, and then leapt back at the wall. Once more he clung there and began to climb.
Smooth, Harry thought, and Runcorn fell, but this time, the Room seemed to fall with him. Harry could see panic on Ron's face as his platform shrank toward their level. It stopped with the sound of stone grinding against stone less than a second later, with Ron perhaps ten feet above them.
Runcorn was on his feet again, snarling and howling and pacing the length of the ledge. Harry wasn't sure if Runcorn was figuring the Room out, or if, as a wolf, his thoughts were simply so focused and strong that the Room was responding, but either way, it was bad.
I need a way to get him out, Harry thought. A tunnel out to the grounds.
One appeared—long and so dark Harry couldn't see what was at the end of it—and then closed in on itself again almost immediately. He glanced at Runcorn—still stalking Ron—and then at Ron himself, who looked resolute.
Had he closed it? Had he thought, perhaps, that Runcorn was the one who'd made it? Harry half-yipped, half-growled at him.
Tunnel, he thought again. To the grounds—
Once again it appeared and then vanished again just as quickly.
Harry let out a huff of frustration just as Runcorn leapt again and Ron fell.
Ron had just enough time to register that the edge he'd been kneeling on was now smooth and angled toward Harry and Runcorn before he went sliding down it.
There wasn't time to do anything—not have the Room do something, not use his wandless magic, or the wand in his hand—except stare at the teeth in Runcorn's open mouth.
They were white. Unnaturally white.
And then they were gone:
Harry had collided with Runcorn hard, hard enough that Ron heard it despite them both being padded by thick fur, hard enough that it drove the air from Runcorn's lungs—hot air puffed up at Ron—and hard enough that he heard Runcorn's teeth clack together. They tumbled away, and if they'd hit hard, they landed harder; one of them—Ron couldn't tell which—let out a yelping cough.
Ron himself landed a fraction of a second later with a grunt.
It was enough to shake him from his dazed horror; he scrambled to his feet, lifted his wand, and shouted, "Avea Apara!"
A bright orange dome sprang into being around him and not a moment too soon:
Runcorn shook Harry off and let out a blood-curdling snarl, then leapt.
He crashed into the shield dome with a crunch that sounded like something breaking, fell, and then lunged again.
Beyond him, Harry was getting very gingerly to his feet—or paws, Ron supposed—and doing what seemed like the wolfish equivalent of rolling his shoulders.
"Are you all right?" Ron asked urgently.
Harry made a sound which Ron took to mean I'll live, and they both flinched as Runcorn hurled himself at the dome again.
"Surely if it can keep out a dragon…" Ron said, but couldn't help another twitch as Runcorn crunched against it. "I don't want him to hurt himself, though—"
Harry limped up alongside Runcorn who ignored him completely—seemingly entirely focused on Ron—and nudged his shoulder. Runcorn snapped and Harry flinched back with a yelp; Ron could see blood beading on the dark fur on his snout… and, actually now that he was closer, blood matting the fur around his shoulders and neck. There wasn't so much of it that Ron was worried he'd bleed out, but it seemed he was properly hurt… Runcorn had a bloody snout too, but it seemed the rest of the damage was self-inflicted; he didn't seem like he could put weight on his front right paw, and his breathing was coming in shallow bursts that made Ron think he might have broken a rib—
Crunch! Runcorn slammed into the dome again, then dropped with a howl and rubbed his snout against his chest, sniffling and whimpering.
Nose, Ron thought, wincing. Runcorn stood and started to claw at the dome, as if trying to tear it away. There was foam building at the corners of his mouth.
"What do we do?" Ron asked Harry, who let out an unhappy whine. He tried to nudge Runcorn away from the dome again, and while Runcorn huffed rather than snapped, he was no more receptive to it.
Take us back up to the main level, Ron told the Room. Runcorn seemed not to notice the Room shifting around him, but Harry glanced around with wary interest as their little bit of the Room moved up and then into the Room's main area. Ron had no way of getting the cloak or Runcorn or Harry's bags into his dome, so he settled for having the Room's floor shift them together and move them up high, onto a sort of podium.
"It's me," Ron said, and some of Harry's wariness seemed to fade. Now, pad the floors and walls, vanish the doors and the fireplace... That might stop Runcorn from hurting himself, and would keep him inside, which was a start. Ron would have loved to turn it into the Eihwaz room—in that form, the Room couldn't be changed without their passphrase, which would keep Runcorn from having control—but there was too much that could go wrong with that; for one, the second taken to think or utter the passphrase could make the difference between something changing in time or not. For another, the Eihwaz room was known, and there was a chance that if anyone came by wanting to use it, it would appear for them.
Leaving it as it was was probably safer. But…
Don't let anyone else find this Room while we're in it. That would keep Hermione, Malfoy, and Ginny from getting inside when they inevitably came looking for Harry and Ron.
Harry made a soft noise and behind him the wall shimmered; suddenly there was a tapestry of the Hogwarts grounds on it. Harry nodded at it and gave Ron an imploring look.
"I don't think you're enough to keep him away from the school or anyone out on the grounds if he went at it," Ron said, a little apologetically. "Not when he's like this." Harry's ears lowered, but he didn't express any disagreement. "And if you're seen… Runcorn could be anyone, but you…" He nodded at Harry's missing paw and Harry let out a sigh, then made a door—unattached to anything—appear. Harry glanced between it and Ron.
"You're trying to tell me to go?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. Ron shook his head. "And leave you with him?"
Harry cast a helpless look at Runcorn, who was shredding the mats in an attempt to dig into the dome. He was right that that wouldn't be a problem if Ron wasn't there, but…
"I know," Ron said. "But if I leave, either he tries to follow, or he just gets out on his own and he's loose in the school, or he turns on you." Ron smiled grimly. "Me being here keeps him distracted." They both looked with morbid fascination at Runcorn, who was snapping at the dome now, but unable to find purchase on it. "I'm the best with the Room. I can keep him in here, and everyone else out until he changes back."
There was nothing that could be done about the lack of subtlety of not one but two silvery dogs appearing in the Great Hall during dinner time and, in echoey, panicky unison, declaring, "I don't know where he is!".
Indeed, Harry was not seated at Gryffindor, though Albus suspected the message was not referring to him, but to Ethan Runcorn. Minerva—the patronus' other recipient—was on her feet almost as quickly as Albus, but she was not the only one who'd reacted; Pomona and Filius knew enough about the evening's plans to look stricken by that particular message from Sirius, and Severus was inscrutable as ever, but his dark eyes were on the full moon glowing on the Great Hall's ceiling.
The only good thing about the situation was that Dolores had not yet arrived at dinner and could not interfere.
Albus let three firecrackers out of his wand to catch the attention of the students not already watching, and pressed his wand to his throat:
"I have received a tip from an Auror that there may be a dangerous intruder on the school grounds," Albus said quickly, but calmly. "Students in the Great Hall will remain in the Great Hall until we have completed our investigation. Students not yet at dinner must return immediately to their common rooms and likewise remain there until they are given permission to leave. Minerva and Severus with me - we shall ensure the corridors are secure and those not yet at dinner are not wandering. Filius and Pomona, I leave the students here in your care."
"I don't understand," Minerva hissed, as they hurried from the Hall. "Potter retrieved him an hour ago—they should have made it with plenty of time. What could have delayed them—"
The most likely answer appeared at the top of the stairs into the Entrance Hall; Dolores' wand was out, and the bow in her hair askew as if she'd run part of the way. In her hand was a very familiar mirror, and he wondered how it had ended up in her hands; Harry would not have parted with it lightly.
"Mr Filch has been attacked," she said breathlessly. Minerva made a soft sound. Something in Albus' chest tightened.
"Attacked?" he made himself ask.
"Stunned," she said, and relief coursed through him. "Mrs Norris too. They were on the fourth floor—"
"Then my lockdown was timely indeed," Albus said. "Let us hope Argus and Mrs Norris are the evening's only victims—"
"Of your dangerous intruder?" she scoffed. "I think this is a ruse," she said. "A weak attempt to cover for whatever Mr Potter is up to."
"Are you accusing the Aurors of providing me with false information about said intruder?"
"Who provided the tip?" she asked.
"Auror Black," Albus replied, watching her closely.
"Auror Sirius Black?" Dolores asked, just as he'd hoped; the mirror in her hand shimmered. Albus did not dare let his eyes linger on it, and nodded. "He's likely in on it too—"
"We can discuss your theories once I have secured the school—"
"So you have time to help Potter weasel his way out of whatever's going on?" she asked. "I don't think so."
Albus took a deep breath:
"Minerva, secure the floors above us and take attendance of any students in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. Severus, secure the dungeons and Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Ensure no students remain in the corridors." They rushed away without a backwards glance. "Where is Mr Filch?"
"In my office. He claims not to have seen who attacked him, but Mr Runcorn was not with him when I found him, and he should have been, since Mr Filch was under my instructions to escort Mr Runcorn to dinner. Clearly Mr Potter has attacked Mr Filch—not to mention vandalised a bathroom—"
"Vandalised a bathroom?" Albus asked.
"All the water was running, and the urinals look to have exploded—"
"Troubling indeed," Albus said, "particularly the part about Mr Runcorn not being where he was supposed to be. You—" He inclined his head at her. "—suspect Harry's involvement for reasons I'm afraid I do not fully understand, while I fear the worst. I fear that Mr Runcorn is in danger, and so, too, may our other students be."
"That we can agree on," she sniffed.
"Then I shall need you to inform Pomona that one of her students is missing, while I join Minerva and Severus in securing the school."
"As Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I think it appropriate that I accompany you," she said.
"You shall not," Albus said. "You are best placed in the Great Hall, where you can defend the majority of our students, should the situation call for it." She looked stymied for a few moments, then:
"I am the Hogwarts High Inquisitor."
"You are indeed," Albus said. "But I fail to understand how that is relevant to the matter at hand. You are here to oversee the quality of teaching, and the discipline of students, not Hogwarts' security." If the look on her face was any indication, he'd pay for that in the form of another Educational Decree.
"If you truly believe Hogwarts' security is in question, then you will not mind if I alert the Ministry and Auror Department, I take it?"
"Not at all," Albus said. "In fact, allow me to save you the trouble." He drew his wand and conjured his phoenix patronus. "Inform the Aurors that I received a tip from Auror Black alerting me to the possibility of a dangerous intruder on the Hogwarts grounds. We have called a lockdown while I and my staff attempt to secure the castle, but we have at least one student missing, possibly taken by the intruder. Any support the Aurors can provide would be appreciated." The phoenix vanished in a flare of silvery fire.
"That could have gone to anyone," Dolores said, eyes narrowed.
"I will not spend any more time justifying myself to you when my students may be in danger," Albus said, losing his patience. "You will be updated in due course and we can discuss this evening's events and your theories at length later, but for now, kindly see yourself to the Great Hall with the other students and staff, Dolores."
She frowned, but turned and marched away, mirror still in hand. A shadow rippled across its surface and faded and Albus let out a long breath, then turned and hurried up the stairs.
Runcorn spent three straight hours throwing himself at and otherwise attempting to get through the dome to Ron, paced around it and the Room for another hour, then approached Harry to try to secure his help in breaking through it, as if he thought there might be more strength in numbers. Harry'd indulged him because he was confident the dome could keep them both out, because he wanted to keep Runcorn too occupied to try to break out of the Room itself, and because he wanted to do what he could to make Runcorn feel less angry and alone.
It had sort of worked; after about fifteen minutes, Harry had made a show of giving up on the dome and sitting down, and Runcorn had come over to pick a fight. He'd seemed more frustrated than angry or afraid, and while he hadn't been gentle, it had seemed almost playful; he certainly hadn't been fighting to hurt like he had before, had even backed off before pouncing a few times, as if giving Harry time to adjust for his missing paw—his eyes kept darting there.
And there had been things to adjust, because Harry'd not spent any length of time as his wolf since losing his hand; Grimmauld had been packed full with most of the Order over the summer and Padfoot hadn't let him come out for any of the moons since for fear of him getting hurt if Moony got too rough.
It had been a bit like flying; thinking about his missing hand—or paw—too much made it hard to compensate, but when he stopped thinking and just did it was much easier. Not so easy that he hadn't fallen on his face a few times, or moved a bit awkwardly or slowly on occasion, but by the time they flopped down after Merlin-knew-how-long, Harry'd relearned how to run just as quickly as he'd been able to before.
He let his tongue loll out as he panted, and Runcorn rolled—a little gingerly, since Harry was sure he'd broken a few bones in his attacks on the dome—over onto the grass, grey sides heaving.
The grass—Harry wasn't sure when that had happened or who was responsible—wasn't the only change; the Room seemed to have made itself into a clearing:
The ceiling had become like that of the Great Hall, showing the night sky and full moon, and though Harry was sure they were there, there didn't appear to be walls, only scattered trees.
A stream appeared in front of them and Runcorn lapped lazily at it, then glanced sharply at Ron, who froze. The tiny flame that had been dancing over his finger vanished, and his eyes flicked to Harry, who also remained still.
After a moment, Runcorn huffed and started to lick at his paws. Harry had no doubt he'd move to attack Ron the second he thought the dome was wavering, but for now he was if not quite content then certainly as exhausted as a werewolf could be. As if on cue, Runcorn yawned, showing off deadly white teeth.
The three of them sat in silence as the starry sky changed from black to charcoal and the moon began to set.
Where the transformation from Runcorn to wolf had been the creation of a new form from old—complete with growing fur and a tail and snapping and reforming bones—wolf-Runcorn seemed to simply shrink back into his human form. It looked like it hurt far less, and Harry hoped for his sake that it did.
The floor became padded again—almost mattress-like—and a school uniform appeared between Harry and Runcorn.
Harry straightened out of his own wolf form. For a moment he was disorientingly tall, and felt unstable on just two legs, and then being a human settled back over him.
So too did the exhaustion of a night without sleep, and the discomfort of the injuries he'd accumulated; his nose felt bruised, his neck, shoulder and arm hurt, and he could feel the stickiness of partly-dried blood beneath his shirt.
The room dimmed, slightly—Ron's dome falling—and quiet footsteps came up beside Harry. Ron looked as tired as Harry felt.
"You all right?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, and meant it. "You?"
"Already planning to sleep through Binns' lesson," Ron said. "But otherwise, yeah." He sounded a bit surprised. "S'pose we should get him sorted, eh?" He nodded at Runcorn who seemed to be unconscious.
Together they got him dressed and sitting upright, and Harry healed Runcorn's face—the only wounds on him that Runcorn couldn't plausibly have inflicted on himself—and cleaned and bandaged everything else; tired as he was, didn't want to risk making any mistakes, especially with broken bones. Were they anywhere else Harry might have tried anyway in case they stumbled across Umbridge, but the Room could take them anywhere and they had the Map and cloak.
"What about you?" Ron asked, as Harry bent to get an arm under Runcorn's.
"What about me?" Harry said.
"You look like you've fought a werewolf, mate," Ron said. "Successfully, but… still." Harry gave him a tired grin, but set about healing the injuries that weren't hidden by his clothes.
"Better," Ron said when he was done. He'd retrieved their bags and the cloak, and had the Map in hand. "To the Hospital Wing," he said, glancing at the ceiling, and a tunnel of stairs appeared in the wall.
Harry and Ron half-dragged, half-carried a groaning and not properly conscious Runcorn along it, and then—after a whispered All clear from Ron, pushed open the door at the end of it into the Hospital Wing.
It was not as dark in there as Harry had expected, given it couldn't have been any later than five in the morning; all the lights were on, and it was occupied not by a single student, but by both Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall.
They both stared at Harry, Ron, and Runcorn in shock—perhaps surprised by the fact that they'd appeared out of a new door in the wall—and then hurried forward:
Madam Pomfrey directed them to deposit Runcorn on a bed and immediately began to cast diagnostics over him, while McGonagall drew them away. Her hands fluttered about, clenching oddly, as if she couldn't decide whether she wanted to hug them or strangle them, which, in Harry's opinion, was probably fair.
After a moment she drew her wand, conjured a silvery cat, and said, "I have them. Potter, Weasley, and Runcorn, more or less unscathed."
The cat darted away.
"Where have you been?" she said. She was still in the robes from last night, and wisps of dark hair were escaping from their usual tight bun; she did not look to have slept either.
"The Room," Harry said tiredly. "Filch came and interrupted us when we were waiting in your classroom, so rather than have him find the Room, Runcorn and I decided to walk. Then Umbridge found us and sent him off with Filch, and took my mirror—" Her nostrils flared dangerously and her lips were as thin as Harry'd ever seen, but he was certain he was not the main subject of her ire. "—and sent me upstairs, but then Ron found me. By the time I got back to Runcorn there wasn't time, so I—" Harry grimaced. "I had to Stun Filch. Has he been found?" She gave a sharp nod. "Good. Ron managed to get the Room open and almost as soon as Runcorn got inside he changed."
McGonagall glanced at Ron as if looking for confirmation.
"We knew Mr Runcorn had not arrived at his—" She glanced around. "—intended destination, but we did not know where you were. We've had to lock down the school." Harry blinked, but it made sense; if there was a werewolf potentially roaming the corridors it wasn't safe for people to be moving around. "Most of the student body and staff have spent the night in the Great Hall while we've searched for you. The Headmaster's had to fabricate a story about a potential intruder on the grounds, and the Aurors are here, though thankfully only Shacklebolt, McKinnon, and some trainees, and they've spent the evening guarding the Hall—"
"So much for not drawing attention to it all," Ron muttered.
"Indeed. I can appreciate there was a shortness of time in the beginning," McGonagall said, with clear effort, "but why were one of you not able to get a message out with your whereabouts? Or come yourselves, for that matter; what on earth possessed the pair of you to spend an evening with— with a—" She turned and glanced pointedly at Runcorn.
"Umbridge took my mirror," Harry snapped. It was still a sore point, and sorer still was the fact that he would have to go and ask for it back. "Neither of us can cast patronus messengers, neither of us had our message parchments—" McGonagall looked a bit baffled by that but didn't question it. "—any owl we'd summoned would have died or been trapped in the dome—same for house elves—and couldn't risk a werewolf getting into the Floo or out any door or window we might have made." She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her scent was exasperated and angry, but Harry got the feeling it was less at them, and more at the situation. "As for why we stayed there all night—how were we meant to have left? And even if we had got out and left him there, the Room can go anywhere." Harry gave the wall where their doorway had been a pointed look. "What if Runcorn had got out?"
"With the school on lockdown, very little," McGonagall said tartly. "And you would have had support from the staff—"
"And Umbridge," Harry said sarcastically.
"—though you seem to have managed well enough without it." She eyed them and he could smell her curiosity and her suspicion. Harry did his best not to fidget or let anything show on his face; she might never have guessed Padfoot and his father had been animagi, but now that she did know about them and after tonight she'd have to be silly not to at least consider Harry might have followed in their footsteps, and McGonagall was not silly.
"We didn't know about the lockdown," Ron offered. "Might have considered it, otherwise."
"The Headmaster's message should have reached everyone in the school," she said.
"I told the Room not to let anything else in after Padfoot's patronus," Harry said, grimacing. "Figured it was best not to startle him."
"I see," she said, pursing her lips. After a moment, she sighed. "You both look well enough—are you?"
"Tired," Ron said. "But yeah, we're all right."
"And neither of you were bitten?" she asked in a low voice.
"No," Harry said, through a sudden yawn.
She shook her head, regarding them with relief, exasperation, and some pride; the last was present in her scent only.
"I need to fetch the Headmaster," she said. "He will be relieved to know none of you were harmed. He and I will return here; we will all need to get our stories straight before we release the rest of the school."
"The patronus, though… who…?"
"Black," she said, arching an eyebrow. "This situation is complicated enough without him descending on the school the moment Lupin and Rosier are stable." Despite everything, Harry grinned. McGonagall seemed to soften slightly. "You should both get some rest before I return." She sighed. "I fear it will be a long morning."