The Shrieking Shack

A Call to Action

Thomas walked boldly into The Three Broomsticks. "I'd like to call a town meeting!" he announced.

The pub's occupants fell silent. A few of them looked up at him and then returned to drinking their beers.

"Did you hear me? It's time for a town meeting!"

Madam Rosmerta put down her dishrag and looked Thomas square in the eye. "What are you on about?" she asked.

"There's a monster in the Shrieking Shack," Thomas said. "It's time something was done about it."

Several people in the pub gasped and twittered. Rosmerta moved to the centre of the bar to pour a customer another beer. Then she looked up at Thomas and shrugged. "That Shack's been haunted for years. Why worry about it now?"

An attractive young man sitting toward the back of the pub piped up suddenly. "I'm bloody sick of the thing myself."

"So am I," said a woman at a table near the bar.

"Well, thank Merlin for that," Thomas said. "Does anyone know where Barnaby is?" he asked, referring to the village councillor.

A red-haired woman near him pointed in the direction of the loo with a clawlike finger. "He's in there."

"Oh," Thomas muttered.

"What are you planning to do?" the woman asked, raising an impossibly thick eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Well, that's what we need to figure out. Perhaps if we pool our information, our ideas? I mean, we have to do something. I've done all I can."

"Oh, what exactly have you done?" Rosmerta asked, chuckling. "Thought you could take it on yourself, eh?"

Thomas just gave her a look and grunted as if that settled the matter.

At that moment, Barnaby came out of the loo, the ends of his shirt sticking out over the top of his trousers.

"Hey, Barnaby! Thomas here wants a town meeting!" Rosmerta said, gesturing toward Thomas as she spoke.

Barnaby peered at the other man over his small, round glasses. He seemed slightly drunk. "Why, may I ask?"

"It's about the monster in the Shrieking Shack," Rosmerta said, chuckling. "He wants us to go storming in there and kill it or something."

"Or something," muttered Thomas, giving her a look again. "It's about bloody time we all met up and figured out what to do. Maybe some people in this village are perfectly happy to ignore the fact that a vicious werewolf is living only yards from us, but I'm bloody not."

Another series of gasps and twitters traveled through the bar, interspersed with cries of fear.

Barnaby fixed his gaze on Thomas, level and calm. "And just what makes you think it's a werewolf, Mr MacInnie?"

Thomas sighed with exasperation. "Well, the howling was a clue!" he muttered sarcastically. "I live next door to the bloody thing. I know what's in there! And it's keeping my wife and I awake. She's terrified, and it's time something was done."

"Is it really a werewolf?" asked the red-haired woman, both excited and scared. "I always thought it was a ghost or something."

"I thought it was a ghoul," said someone else.

"So did I. Sure seems like one to me," said an elderly gentleman at the bar. His face was barely visible under the too-large floppy hat he wore.

A young blond woman in a thick robe and shawl piped up, "I thought it was a lethifold!"

The elderly man chuckled. "Lethifolds don't make any noise! And they could get past all those magical locks, too. Can't hold a lethifold. That's what my uncle used to say. Or at least, I think it was my uncle."

"Why would your uncle say something like that?" asked the man sitting next to him.

"I don't know," the old man retorted. "And why aren't you manning your shop?"

Another man chimed in. "Well, I thought it was a troll. Someone told me so, in fact. Someone who ought to know."

"And what would a troll be doing in a place like that?" asked the blond woman.

"Well, what would a werewolf be doing in a place like that?"

Barnaby held up his hand. "Would everyone please shut the hell up? Thank you. Now, Mr MacInnie, you said you wanted to hold a town meeting? May I ask if the Shack has really been a problem?" Before Thomas could protest, Barnaby continued. "No one has been hurt. And I don't see any point in causing a panic or destroying a poor old building just because people are worried about a few spooky noises. Merlin, this is a wizarding village. We're hardly strangers to weird goings-on."

Thomas glared at him. "Well, I believe you have to call a meeting if the townsfolk demand one." He looked around at everyone. "Well? Would you like a meeting?" He received a chorus of nods and grunts in reply.

"Very well," Barnaby said, sighing. "We'll have your bloody meeting. Next Saturday at 9 o'clock sharp, then, in the town hall."

* * *

"So, are you two done snogging then?" asked James, winking. Remus and Sirius had just returned to the dorm.

Sirius scowled. "Ha ha, Potter. You know, you and Peter ran off alone together, too," he remarked, looking at the two of them.

Peter frowned, confused. "We wanted breakfast," he said, holding up a danish he'd taken with him from the breakfast table.

Remus patted Peter on the head. "He's the sensible one sometimes, you know? He knows what he wants, and he goes after it. And he doesn't waste his bloody time on teasing and silliness, do you, Wormtail?"

Peter shook his head, looking more confused than ever.

"Well, as the two of you missed breakfast, you also missed the news," James said, his eyes beaming.

"Oh, and what news is that?" Sirius asked, changing into a fresh set of clothes. Remus kept his eyes fixed on James to avoid looking at his friend's bare chest.

James grinned. "We're having a dance," he said.

"A dance?" asked Remus. "Didn't we have the Yule Ball not that long ago?"

"Three months ago," said James. "Well, three months on Tuesday, if you want to be precise, which, knowing you, you do."

Remus sat down on his bed. "So why another?"

James shrugged. "Dumbledore said it was because of exams, actually, one last hurrah before we all have to study. It won't be as big or as fancy as the Yule Ball. We can wear normal dress robes. But they'll play some music and serve punch." He pondered. "I think it's Dumbledore that wants it, really. I think he's been in a mood lately."

"And we're going to Hogsmeade next weekend, too," said Peter. "I need to go back to Honeydukes and get some more sweets."

"Actually, no you don't," Sirius teased, poking him in the belly.