Grim Spectre

"Ooh, it's Snivelly Snape! Snivelly Snape the grease spot! Snivelly Snape the grease spot!" Peeves squeaked impudently at the grim, greasy black-shrouded professor.

Snape paid no heed to the insult. At least, the disdainful, scowl he already wore at sight of the annoying little poltergeist deepened no further. He just stood firm and coldly frowning as the poltergeist flourished four jars of potion ingredients he had appropriated from the dungeons.

Snape didn't seem to turn a hair as Peeves drifted up close and blatantly juggled unicorn's hair, gillyweed, boomslang skin and a jar of cockroaches that were marinating in some purple liquid. Around and around they went in an ever-flashing whirl, threatening to smash and mingle together to form some potion of unknown capabilities.

Snape not turning a hair really set Peeves off now. Peeves really heaved up close, and juggled the potion jars in emphatically pronounced unison to:

"Snivelly Snape is such a cad,

As a professor, he is really bad,

As a Deatheater, he was really mad

To think it was the pureblood fad

The Marauders called him a greasy lad,

And softy Dumbledore gives him a pad

But with Potter here, he's really sad,

And when the Dark Lord's back, he's really h-!"

A jab from Snape's wand accompanied by the word "Immobilis!" broke off Peeves' little ditty. The potion jars and Peeves drifted helplessly in mid-air as Snape finally spoke in weighty, sibilant tones.

"Now that you've had your spot of fun, perhaps we will now discuss business."

Snape paused, his teeth baring, as if what he had to say was as distasteful to him as it was puzzling to Peeves.

"Much as I am reluctant to even consider discussing business with you, we do, unfortunately, have a common problem." Snape paused and then pressed in rasping tones: "I am referring to...the Grim." Snape would never admit to the direct truth - that they had both been, in their respective ways, humiliated by that Grim.

Had Peeves not been immobilised, he would have gasped.

Seconds later, Peeves was squawking in fury as Snape yanked him out of mid-air and altered the curse sufficiently to allow him to speak. Snape drew Peeves' puffing little face right up against his own. Peeves squirmed and struggled but there was no escape for him this time. He had little choice but to discuss business with Snape.

"I apologise for the inconvenience," Snape spoke in sardonic, gritted tones that showed he was not in the least bit apologetic. "But I had to be sure that you would co-operate. Tell me all you know about this Grim. And I am not letting you go until you do."

And so Peeves was obliged to tell Snape everything that had passed between him, that Grim and Moaning Myrtle. He kept teasing and harrassing poor Moaning Myrtle until that Grim intervened. And yes, Peeves had to go through every sordid, humiliated detail about the Grim subjecting him to the indignities of chasing him out of the toilet or threatening to flush him down one. Snape's cold black eyes couldn't help but glitter with all the relish they would later take on sight of Rita Skeeter's article.

And then they faded as Snape's face became more thoughtful - and increasingly blacker.

"So, in having the Grim constantly saving Moaning Myrtle from your little jokes, you have made her indebted to that Grim. She will have a Wizard's Debt..."

By the time Peeves had finished all his gabbling, Snape was shaking in utter fury. His lips now grimaced in the most hissing, terrifying and gnashing rage that would have Filch looking nervous. Those black eyes were blazing now; Peeves gulped and squeaked as they bore right into the very core of his being.

"You stupid little fool!"

Snape flung Peeves down the corridor like a hapless rag doll. Poor little Peeves' screams and yowls rebounded and echoed around and around the walls before finally fading into nothingness.

Snape wasn't stopping to listen. Nor did he bother to do anything about his potion ingredients which still hovered in mid-air. They would stay that way until some extremely puzzled staff member kindly restored them to Snape's office.

*~*~*

Later that day a certain greasy black-garbed figure crossed the threshold of Professor Trelawney's office. The incense was making the atmosphere far more stifling and overwhelming than usual because Professor Trelawney was in the throes of a deep, prophetic trance that would provide the ultimate answer as to the fate of Sirius Black.

Well, that was what she kept saying anyway. As Snape looked on, his lips curled in sardonic indulgence as the woman cradled back and forth, chanting and babbling incessantly, and flourishing her arms ceaselessly up to heaven. She had been this way ever since she had been summoned back to Hogwarts when the news broke. She hadn't left her suite at all. She was not one for leaving her suite anyway, but this was alarmingly unhealthy, even for the standards of Professor Trelawney.

To make it all the more annoying, all that ranting and chanting and raving had produced not one single credible thing regarding the whereabouts of Sirius Black. All that was had been heard so far was a load of babble about her inner eye being so clouded that she could not see a thing...or there was some extremely thick veil that had been placed across her inner eye that would not allow her to see a thing. The Professor had been chanting, ranting and even begging, all the more, for the impenetrable gauze that blocked her inner eye to be lifted so she may see the dreaded fugitive.

But now, she was sounding a little different.

"The Grim...the Grim..."

That did grab Snape's attention. Trelawney couldn't possibly have known anything about the Grim from any of them. Apart from her refusing to leave her suite, none of the staff dared let word of "the Grim" reach her ears. If Sybil could turn a simple bowl of porridge into a death omen, they could just imagine what she would make of having a Grim in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Now Snape was brought to full attention. The incessant babbling suddenly smoothed into clear, booming, prophetic tones. They lacked the harshness of the tone in which Trelawney had dictated the infamous augury that had brought war between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. All the same, they sent a cold sheet of shuddering through Snape:

"The Rat has brought the Grim to Hogwarts. The Grim haunts Hogwarts to hound the Rat who serves the Dark Lord. The Grim will never relinquish the chase. The Grim will hound the Rat..."

Then the woman fell abruptly silent. She sat limp and still on the plush Oriental cushions. It seemed as if all had gone out of her. The room seemed to darken, as if in sympathy.

Snape was silenced, too. It seemed that all had gone out of him as well. He could only stand there, stunned and dazed. It seemed to take every single nerve inside him to slip quietly, and gingerly, from Trelawny's classroom.

*~*~*

Professor Dumbledore had given no spoken reason as to why he wanted Remus Lupin to accompany the returning students on the Hogwarts Express, but Lupin had understood well enough. He re-packed his frayed and battered suitcase and flooed himself to London. To all appearances he would be coming to Hogwarts on the very first day of the new term, just like all the other students.

Lupin sat swathed in his blankets and to all appearances was fast asleep. How he wished he could have slept for real. So tired and wearied he was from the coming full moon. But he must keep awake and wait for his charge to arrive.

It wasn't long before he began to hear three voices which belonged to one girl and two boys. A mere flicker of overheard conversation told him that it was indeed Harry and his friends. They were going to share his compartment.

He kept his eyes firmly closed as sharp-eyed Hermione noted the name on his suitcase and they all took stock of their new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. He thanked them silently as they passed their commiserations about his sickly, strained appearance and hoped he would be up to the job. He didn't give a twitch as a Sneakerscope went off in Harry's trunk for no apparent reason. He didn't turn a hair at a wild spat caused by Crookshanks snapping at Ron's rat yet again and being threatened with being turned into a tea-cosy...

It seemed like an eternity before the conversation settled down into a more interesting turn.

"I still say it was bloody brilliant. The muggle aunt must have looked like a plimb!" Ron snorted defiantly.

"The word is "blimp", Ron." Hermione corrected him. "And I think it was an absolutely stupid thing to do. Harry was lucky not to get expelled!"

"Look, I told you before, I didn't mean to blow her up. I just lost control! Wouldn't you, if somebody called your dad a drunk?" Harry's voice snapped.

"I would have called them a stupid idiot, if they were even worth that." Hermione's voice retorted matter-of-factly. "Didn't you think?"

"Well, I couldn't think much, could I? It was too much bloody hard work acting the muggle, putting up with Aunt Marge picking on me all the time, and that ghost dog scaring me in the middle of the night..."

"What ghost dog?" By the tone of her voice, Hermione had been brough up short.

"A great big ghost dog came into my room. It licked me in the ear!"

"Li-licked you in the ear?" Ron's voice burst into absolute titters.

"Shut up, Ron, it's not funny! You know what it's like having a ghost lick you right in the ear? I thought my ear had turned to an ice-block! It was screaming for hours afterwards!"

"But what was it doing there?" Hermione demanded.

"How should I know? All I know is, I was sleeping when something got into my ear and my ear felt like it had turned to ice! I woke up and there was this great big ghost dog floating over me!"

"What sort of ghost dog was it?"

"Well, once I got my glasses on I could see it really was a ghost dog. It was a black dog-"

"A black dog?" Ron's eyes were round.

Lupin's eyes shot wide. Fortunately Ron and Hermione were too shocked at the idea of a Grim right there in Harry's bedroom to notice. Lupin hastily recovered himself and snapped them shut again, but his ears were rigid.

"It was huge! And it was the skinniest dog I'd ever seen. It looked like it had starved to death or something..."

"What was it doing in your room?"

"I don't know! I just pointed my wand at it and shouted 'who are you? What do you want? If you're from Voldemort, I'm going to hex you!'"

"You said that to a Grim?" Ron tittered slightly.

"Well, I didn't know what else to do, did I?"

"What did it do?" Hermione's voice was ominously intense.

"It sort of whined and vanished!"

"You scared it off?" Ron sounded disbelieving.

"Maybe. I don't know!"

It was just then that other voices broke in on them. And they were as unwelcome as they were rude.

"Oh, so the mighty Potter has scared off the Grim!" Accompanying voices burst into a loud chorus of taunting "woos", "woofs" and "bark", "snarl, "growl"!

"Shove off Malfoy!" Harry snapped loudly. Hermione and Ron made their own chorus of reinforcement.

"So the mighty Potter has the Grim for a pet! What's he feeding it? Does it sleep on his bed every night?"

Harry hadn't a clue what "Grim" was supposed to mean, but: "It'll be grim for you all right, Malfoy, I'm warning you..."

"Oh, so the mighty Potter is going to set the Grim on me, is he? I'm so scared!"

It was just then that Malfoy's eye caught something that did have him scared. Or at least, thinking twice; the surprising sight of an adult in the compartment.

"Who's that?" He demanded.

"Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Malfoy. Would you like me to introduce you?" Now it was Harry's turn to sneer.

Much as Malfoy despised the sight of the teacher's patched and tattered appearance, even he knew better to pick a fight in the vicinity of a teacher. Sulkily, sullenly, he and his cronies beat a quiet retreat.

In minutes Harry was settled again, beaming thankful glances at Lupin. But Hermione and Ron seemed ominously pale and frightened. It took them longer to seat themselves again, and they were squirming most uncomfortably as they did so.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded most anxiously.

"Well, if you saw the Grim..." Ron's face was absolutely horror-stricken.

"What the heck's the Grim?"

"It-it's the worst thing to see in the wizard world." Ron's face wobbled as if he were about to cry. "The Grim's a black dog...and-and if you see it, you die!"

"Die?!?"

"Seeing the Grim means death! I know! My Uncle Bilius saw the Grim! Twenty-four hours later, he was dead!"

"That was just the shock, Ron," Hermione's voice carried the sterness of a skeptic. "It was all because your uncle believed that to see the Grim meant death. It was nothing to do with any omen - it was just believing in it, that's all!"

"But what about Harry? He saw the Grim!"

"He saw something that looked like a black dog! It could have been anything! Something perfectly rational!"

"Yeah, like Sirius Black dropping in to say 'hello'?" There was almost a hint of jokiness in Ron's squeaky voice.

"Don't be daft, Ron! If it was Black, he wouldn't go about licking me in the ear! If it was him, he'd have killed me on the spot!"

"Killed you?!?"

Hastily, Harry summarised all that Mr. Weasley had warned him about Sirius Black. When he had finished, Ron and Hermione were shocked rigid.

As for Harry himself, he hadn't been too worried about Sirius Black. After all, as he had so rightly pointed out to Mr. Weasley, Black couldn't be any worse than Voldemort, whom Harry had trounced thrice already.

But if Sirius Black had anything to do with that black Grim dog that had shown up right there in his bedroom...

All of a sudden, Harry's ear began to chill, freeze and throb as violently as it had done on the night that Grim thing had licked his ear.

And within Lupin's head, wild, buzzing thoughts, calculations that added up to nothing, and totally confused conjecture all melded together into one incoherent, tangled mess that could spell only one thing clearly: What the hell is going on here?

But to all appearances, Lupin continued to sleep on as peacefully as ever.