Grim Dawn

Grim Dawn

Molly still felt very uneasy by the time they finally reached the front door of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She'd heard of the Blacks' ancestral abode before, and was well acquainted with the endless tales about the traps, tricks, and horrors hidden within its walls. It was said that the maniacally pureblood Blacks only inhabited a house that was surrounded by Muggle real estate for one reason: only they knew its secrets. The Blacks were a powerful and power-hungry lot, and although Molly was related to them (distantly, but never distantly enough!), she knew no one in the family. In fact, she wouldn't have wanted to know them, even if they hadn't considered the Weasleys to be the worst kind of blood traitors there were.

She shivered as Black tapped his wand on the door. He still walked with a slight limp and moved very gingerly, especially after Apparating. Now that they had arrived, he seemed fairly confident, but before that he'd been quiet. The walk across the Hogwarts grounds had left him distant and cool, and Molly had to wonder if there was something they were all missing. The door opened after a long moment, though, and while she waited, Molly chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. She didn't like the situation at all, but she had to admit that things had gone as planned thus far. Moody carefully watched the street, and Lupin stood close by Black's side. The Defense Professor's face was calm, but there was a joyful gleam in his eyes that Molly couldn't miss. She frowned. And there I was, thinking that our original group of "Hunters" was mismatched and oddly colored. If that group was strange, this one is simply surreal. Come to fetch Harry are the convict who captured him, a professor he doesn't know, his best friend's parents, and a paranoid ex-Auror.

That thought, however, rekindled her rising excitement. No matter how they had gotten there, the strange little group was about to accomplish their ultimate goal. In less than five minutes, they were going to rescue Harry--

"Sirius!"

The door had opened to reveal a messy haired boy and the wand he'd been pointing cautiously in their direction. A split second later, he bolted forward, dropping the wand carelessly and launching himself into his godfather's arms.

Black accepted the sudden embrace without a protest, though it had to hurt. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around Harry, and his face showed no pain, only relief and joy. "Hey, kid." Black spoke softly, tipping Harry's face up to look him in the eye. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied quickly. He was grinning from ear to ear, but the happy expression faltered after a moment. "Are you--?"

"I'll be all right," the other replied quietly, but Harry's perceptive eyes widened, looking at Black's gaunt and pale features and clearly understanding what had caused the pain they all could see.

"What happened?"

Black squeezed Harry's shoulder with a familiarity that made Molly's heart clench. "That's not important right now," the convict responded. Harry opened his mouth to object, but Black shook his head ever so slightly. "I'll tell you later. What we need to do now is get you to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Conflicting emotions whipped across Harry's face; it was obvious that a part of him wanted very badly to return to the school he loved, but the other side--Molly shivered as Harry's gaze swept over their little group. His eyes had suddenly become sharp and mistrusting, and he glared at them with suspicion instead of the joy she had expected.

A nervous lump formed in Molly's throat. Didn't he realize that he was saved, that it was over? Tentatively, she stepped forward. "Harry--"

"What are they doing here?" he demanded, cutting her off without so much of a glance; Harry's eyes were focused on Black alone.

"They're friends," Black assured him with a crooked and somewhat strained smile. As Harry looked at him, though, Molly saw the disbelief in his eyes--but it wasn't mistrust of Black. Rather, Harry didn't believe that the others were there to help him. It pained Molly to see Harry so bitter; she had hoped that his innocence would remain for just a little while longer. It hurt to see him losing his youth so quickly, especially when Harry had had such a hard life already. She swallowed and bit her lip, praying that Black could convince him--and that they could trust the convict at all.

The gaunt wizard squeezed the boy's shoulder again. "I believe you know the Weasleys, Harry," he continued, "but this is Remus Lupin--Professor Lupin, it turns out, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And this is Alastor Moody, a former Auror."

Harry's eyes seemed to question Black one last time, and Molly could see the trust between them. Remus, too, must have noticed the silent exchange; the defense professor's eyes were glowing sadly. No... Sad wasn't precisely the right word; there was definite happiness on Remus' face, but a deep regret also existed there, and it seemed almost as if he, too, was afraid to hope.

"Erm...Hello," Harry finally replied. Molly wanted to hug him, but she didn't really dare. She didn't know how he would react or if he would want her to at all--Black's hand was still on Harry's shoulder, and neither showed signs of moving. "Sorry about the welcome."

"It's all right, Harry," Remus said when the others seemed unable to frame a reply. "You have every reason not to trust us."

"You were my dad's friend too, weren't you?" Harry asked abruptly.

"Yes." Remus' voice was tight, and Molly couldn't help but notice how his eyes flew up to briefly meet Black's. "I was."

"Then will you promise me something?" Harry continued, his voice suddenly uncertain. But Remus only smiled gently. He didn't even hesitate.

"Of course."

Harry glanced up at Black, his gaze suddenly fierce, and then transferred his eyes back to Lupin. "Promise me you won't let him kill Scabbers until they prove he's innocent."

"Harry--" Black's jaw had gone slack with surprise.

"Please, Sirius," Harry pleaded quietly, looking into his godfather's eyes. "I want him dead, too, but I want you free more than I want him dead...and I don't think my dad would want you to be a murderer just for him."

There was a suspiciously wet gleam in Black's eyes, and his shocked expression softened with affection. Remus responded when the escaped convict seemed unable to.

"Of course I will, Harry," he said quietly. "I'm not about to let Sirius wind up in Azkaban again, anyway...and whatever he does, he won't be doing it alone." There was a hard promise in those last words, and Molly wondered if Harry understood what it meant--but the teen nodded grimly.

"Thanks."

Something in his voice made Molly grow cold. Was it the bitter acknowledgement of old betrayal, or was it simply callous agreement with that call for vengeance? Either way, Harry didn't blink an eye, and she was certain that he completely understood Remus' words...possibly better than Molly herself did. His green eyes no longer looked at the world with a childlike wonder--they were hard now, the gaze of an adult. Harry's innocence, she abruptly realized, was gone forever.

"Shall we go?" Black's uneven voice broken the loaded silence. Still, though, Molly could not miss the fact that the escaped convict squeezed Harry's shoulder, ever so slightly--and there was such comfort in their relationship. An irrational part of Mrs. Weasley felt jealous over that, too, even though she knew better. Black had known Harry for such a short time...what had he done to deserve such trust and love from the teen? But a nasty little voice inside her conscience knew the answer. He saved Harry's life, she reminded herself. No matter what else he might be--or what he and Remus claim he isn't--Black risked his own life to save Harry's. And he almost died in doing so.

"By all means." Moody spoke for the first time, his magical eye swirling wildly. "We've spent too much time in one place all ready, and the Death Eaters are bound to figure out why we're sneaking around soon. Especially considering--"

He broke off and shrugged, but Molly knew what he meant. Especially considering Snape. Hogwarts' Potions Master was still one of You-Know-Who's spies, and Dumbledore master plan called for him to reveal their mission to the Dark Lord--just too late for any action to be taken.

"Alastor's right," Arthur spoke for the first time. "I know you have lots of questions, Harry, but they'll have to wait until we're back at Hogwarts."

Remus nodded in agreement and opened the door, gesturing gracefully for Moody to precede him. "After you."

"Wands out," the ex-Auror commanded gruffly, shooting a glare in Harry's direction. "Even you. Underaged wizardry be dammed; we can't be too careful." Then Moody clomped out the door with as much enthusiasm as his wooden leg would allow.

But Harry hadn't moved. He stood stock-still, frozen to the spot and staring bleakly at his godfather. "Voldemort's back, then, isn't he?"

Molly struggled not to gasp at Harry's flat use of the Dark Lord's name, but Black's voice was level.

"Yes. He is."

"And that's where you were." His words weren't a question, but they were bitter--and angrier than Molly had ever heard Harry sound. His fury, however, was not aimed at Black.

"I was."

The silence stretched on, and a part of Molly marveled at the convict's self control. I really must stop thinking of him that way, she told herself suddenly. The longer she was in Black's presence, the more Molly wanted to believe him--especially when watching his obvious care for Harry. However unlikely it seemed, the two of them had formed a deep and profound bond. It wasn't something she would have expected, but Harry had clearly begun to view his godfather in a different light. The anger in his voice only confirmed that: Sirius Black was family to him, family that Harry had needed for a long time.

"Okay," the teen finally responded. "Let's go."

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Their little caravan flew into Hogwarts some time later, wind-swept and weary, but none the worse for the wear. They'd debated over using a Portkey to reach the school, but in the end, Dumbledore had vetoed that idea. Harry needed time, he said, to readjust to Hogwarts before the Ministry started crawling all over him. An authorized Portkey would require detailed explanations, which would undoubtedly end with Fudge at the school, and an unauthorized one would only bring the Minister in faster. The last thing they needed, Dumbledore had reminded them all, was for Fudge to bring Dementors in before he was convinced of Sirius' innocence.

That point had quelled even Moody's most energetic protests. Flying always made Molly a bit green around the edges, of course, but Harry was well worth it. So she pointedly ignored the frizzled mess her hair had become and tried not to hand the borrowed broom over to Madam Hooch with too much relish. The "Hunters" had landed on the currently empty Quidditch Pitch (Ravenclaw's Quidditch tryouts had been forcibly rescheduled despite their objections) and only Hooch and McGonagall had been waiting. Hooch didn't even attempt to restrain her grin, but the stern Head of Gryffindor was frowning.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said levelly. "We were quite worried about you."

"I--" Harry blushed, hesitated, then swallowed. He spoke plaintively. "I'm sorry?"

Suddenly, McGonagall smiled. "I wouldn't dwell upon that too much if I were you," she chuckled dryly. "Your godfather has quiet the history of creating trouble at this school, after all. This certainly isn't the first time."

"You can say that again," Remus muttered under his breath. But he, too, was smiling, and even Black's thin face seemed slightly amused.

"Welcome back, Sirius," McGonagall continued quietly. "I don't believe that I said that before."

She offered a hand, and to Molly's slight surprise, her eyes were a little misty. Seeming startled, Black took it, speaking hoarsely. "Thank you, Professor."

"Minerva," she corrected him gently. "You're an adult now, after all. The name is Minerva."

"Professor." A mulish look crossed Black's face, but he quirked a smile after a moment. "Perhaps someday I'll forget all the detentions you gave me, but until then, you're Professor McGonagall."

They all chuckled, and Molly saw Remus' eyes dance. Reaching out, he touched Black's arm with a familiarity that would have shaken Mrs. Weasley only a few hours before. "Let's get you back to the Hospital Wing and Harry back to his friends. They ought to be in the Great Hall by now."

Molly glanced up at the sky and was almost surprised to see that dusk was fast approaching. She had been so worried about bringing Harry back safely that she hadn't really noticed how much time had passed. Even now, they'd be serving dinner in the Great Hall.

"That's a marvelous idea," Molly agreed. "I'm sure everyone is hungry."

"But--" Harry glanced at Black worriedly, but his godfather smiled a bit.

"It's a long walk, kid," the escaped convict said gently. "We'll have plenty of time to talk on the way."

Slowly, their mismatched party walked into the sunset, moving at Black's gimping pace and filling Harry in on what had passed while he'd been in hiding.

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They reached the Great Hall quickly enough, but Dumbledore met them outside, preventing the group from entering. Harry shifted uneasily under the gaze of those intense blue eyes, but the old headmaster smiled. "Hello, Harry."

"Sir." Harry didn't know why he felt so uncomfortable, but he feared becoming a source of friction between Sirius and the headmaster. Dumbledore might not like the fact that Sirius had kept Harry hidden for so long, no matter how good Sirius' intentions had been, or how well his plan had worked. But Harry knew that Sirius needed Dumbledore's help to prove his innocence. Without it, the Ministry would never believe him--

"I'm glad to see that you are safe," Dumbledore continued, smiling and making Harry blink. The relief on the old wizard's face was plain, even to the teen's inexperienced eyes. "And also, of course, that your godfather is as well."

"Thanks." He didn't know what else to say, but Dumbledore seemed to understand, because he smiled before turning his gaze away.

"Professor Lupin, would you be so kind as to take Sirius back to the Hospital Wing?" The headmaster's eyes twinkled. "I believe that Madam Pomfrey is rather eager to see him."

"Of course." Lupin nodded graciously, but Harry saw a mischievous gleam in his eye. This is going to be an interesting year, the teen thought to himself. Lupin clearly wasn't anything like his former Defense professors--especially if half the stories Sirius had told him were true! Harry had never particularly liked Defense Against the Dark Arts as a subject (who could, with Lockhart teaching it?), but he had a suspicious feeling that it was going to become one of his favorite classes this year.

"Oh, lovely," Sirius mumbled under his breath, making Harry smile sympathetically. He completely understood the bear-like ferocity that Pomfrey guarded her patients with, and he certainly avoided the Hospital Wing whenever possible, too. Even if that hadn't been too possible the year before.

"I'll be able to talk to you later, right?" Harry asked, trying not to sound apprehensive. Yes, Sirius had told him what happened earlier that day, how Moody and the others had freed him from Voldemort's hands, but Harry was still afraid that Dumbledore wouldn't believe everything, that Pettigrew would get free and Sirius would go back to prison--

"Of course you will," Sirius answered patiently, obviously reading the worry that Harry was trying so desperately to hide. The teen flushed, then smiled apologetically. Sirius, at least, understood. "I'm not going anywhere."

"All we ask, Harry, is that you do not tell your friends about Pettigrew," Dumbledore interjected quietly, making Harry's head spin around.

"But--"

"We will deal with Pettigrew." The gentle headmaster's voice was suddenly hard, colder and more dangerous than Harry had ever thought it could be. "I promise you that. But we need a little time to prepare, in order to insure that Pettigrew is caught and Sirius can be free."

Harry swallowed, forced back his wildly rising hopes. "All right."

He didn't like the thought of not telling Ron right away, but then again, if it meant Sirius could be free, and that Harry didn't have to live with the Dursleys ever, ever, again--anything was worth that, even weathering Ron's temper. After all, it wasn't like Pettigrew could do anything in the middle of the Great Hall, was it?

"How long?" Sirius asked, and Harry heard the tension behind his even tone. Even though they hadn't had all that long together, Harry knew his godfather well. Sirius, too, was impatient, and with a very good reason.

"A few hours," the headmaster replied. "No more."

Sirius nodded, and turned to Harry. "I'll see you then."

"Okay."

Harry watched for a moment as Lupin and Sirius moved down the hallway, then felt McGonagall's hand suddenly land on his shoulder. "Come along, Harry," the deputy headmistress said. "I believe your friends are waiting."

Ron and Hermione. Excitement welled up within him so quickly that it was almost impossible to control. Until that very moment, Harry hadn't let himself believe that he was going to see them again--and so soon! He'd missed them terribly, and even though he wouldn't trade a minute of his time with Sirius for anything, Harry had so many things he wanted to tell them, and had spent an entire summer with his infernal Muggle relatives, yearning for the magical world. Most of all, though, he'd missed his friends.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, he noticed, were walking down the hall with Dumbledore, heading in the opposite direction from Sirius and Lupin. McGonagall, though, steered Harry through the doors before he could notice where they were going--and in truth, he didn't really care. He felt his eyes widen as he looked upon the Great Hall for the first time since his second year, taking in the high ceiling (it was showing a cloudless and star filled sky at the moment), the long tables, the hundreds of conversations and the ghosts flying around at random--and he was home. Harry inhaled deeply, and his senses were assaulted with the sweet smell of dinner. His stomach rumbled.

"Harry!"

Hermione's screech, however, took his mind completely off of his stomach. She was rushing towards him, suddenly, her bushy hair flying behind her. Conversation in the hall had stopped, and he heard Ron yell his name, too (though his other friend advanced at a slightly more controlled pace), and then Hermione had reached him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Harry, where have you been? We were so worried about you--weren't we, Ron?--and there have been rumors about you being kidnapped and that letter--How could you write such a letter and not tell us anything? Oh, I'm so glad that you're safe! You'll have to tell us everything that's happened and why you were gone and--"

"Let him breathe, Hermione!" Ron gasped, laughing so hard that he had to hold his sides to keep himself from shaking.

She stepped back quickly and blushed. "I'm sorry! I just--"

"No, it's okay." He was grinning from ear to ear, and so were they, but they deserved far more explanation that Dumbledore wanted him to give. "It's so great to see you both again."

"You, too, mate." Ron's smile was so large that it seemed likely to split his face in two. "Where have you been?"

"Later." Harry was suddenly aware of the many eyes upon them. Half the Great Hall had fallen silent in order to follow the trio's exchange. After all, Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived, and he'd missed the first week of classes. The Quibbler had even reported--shockingly--that he'd been kidnapped by Sirius Black. Even though no one really believed that rumor, every student wanted to know where he had been during that time. "I'll tell you later," he said more quietly. "I promise."

His two friends exchanged a glance. "All right," Hermione finally replied as Ron smiled again.

"We'll hold you to that, you realize."

"Of course." And Harry did want to tell them--to tell them everything--but he remembered Dumbledore's words and vowed to bite his tongue.

Still grinning, his two best friends pulled Harry over to the Gryffindor table and sat on either side of him. Immediately, Ron launched into a summary of everything that Harry had missed while he was gone, pausing only to wolf down his dinner at random intervals. For his part, Harry dug into the food with relish. As accustomed as he was to cooking for himself or the Dursleys, his own meager talents came nowhere close to the quality of the Hogwarts fare.

"So Wood was starting to get really worried about the Quidditch team. He was talking about finding a new Seeker, but there was really no one to do it--" Ron paused to down a gulp of pumpkin juice. "I mean, Ginny was talking about trying out, but--"

"Ron!" Hermione shot him a dirty look, and not far down the table, Harry saw Ron's younger sister go red.

"Sorry." Ron bit off a chunk of chicken before continuing, but he didn't sound particularly regretful. "Anyway, Wood was going batty about Quidditch. Fred and George said he was acting worse than ever, moaning on and on about how they'd lost their best Seeker ever."

"And Professor Lupin is really good," Hermione interjected before Ron could start waxing on about Quidditch. "So far we've studied all kinds of dark creatures like--"

"You missed the best class ever, too," Ron cut her off, grinning like a madman. "The first day, Professor Lupin brought a boggart to class--"

"A boggart is a dark creature," Hermione explained helpfully when she spotted Harry's blank expression. "It changes its form to the thing you fear most, unless you use the Riddikulus Charm and turn it into something funny."

"Oh." He tried to keep disappointment out of his voice, but it was hard. Most students would have been grateful to extend their summer holiday, but Harry loved Hogwarts. Though he didn't blame Sirius at all, he wished that he hadn't had to miss so much. Fortunately, Ron didn't seem to notice.

"But you'll never believe what Neville's boggart turned into." Ron paused, glancing furtively around the Great Hall before continuing with relish. "Snape."

"Oh, Harry, it was so funny!" Even Hermione was laughing. "When Neville cast the charm, Snape came out wearing Mrs. Longbottom's clothes, with this awful hat on."

"And carrying a huge crimson handbag," Ron finished joyfully. They all laughed together, then, and Harry couldn't help glancing at the head table. Immediately, he noticed the perpetual frown on a familiar pale face, but that only made the situation even more amusing. Professor Snape was the one thing he hadn't missed about Hogwarts.

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A short time later, the trio headed up to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to get ahead of everyone else and have time to talk. But along the way, they encountered whole groups of other students and were delayed in their journey. Most of the others only wanted to welcome Harry back, but it slowed their progress and Harry could tell that his friends were getting impatient for answers. Finally, a tense meeting with Malfoy crystallized his decision.

"Come on," he said quietly, ducking around a corner. "We're never going to get anywhere at this rate."

"No kidding," Ron breathed. He and Harry exchanged grins.

Hermione only asked, "Where are we going?"

"Myrtle's bathroom."

"Oh, brilliant. We trade a bunch of well-wishers for a moaning and whining ghost." Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell that he didn't mean it. Ron shot Harry another glance. "She fancies you, you know."

"She's dead!" Harry objected.

Hermione snorted dryly. "Somehow, I don't think Myrtle cares."

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to employ some of the choicer phrases that Sirius favored when faced with irritating things like ferocious coat racks, strangling robes, biting wardrobes--and lovesick girls who had been dead for fifty years. Finally, he settled for muttering irritably under his breath as his friends laughed. Ron looked a little sympathetic, but Hermione only smiled.

"Look at it on the bright side, Harry," she said, pushing the bathroom door open. "At least she can't follow you around."

"Thank goodness," Harry agreed with relief, then gestured for his friends to be silent. The last thing they needed was for Myrtle to hear them talking about her--the sensitive ghost would never leave them in peace if she did, and Harry didn't think he could take all that wailing.

The door shut behind them with a click. The trio waited for several long moments, listening and watching, but Moaning Myrtle was nowhere in sight. Ron sighed. "I think we're in luck."

"Myrtle's not all that bad," Hermione objected.

"Yes, she is!" both boys responded immediately, and then laughed together. By mutual consent, the three teens found a place where they could all sit and made themselves comfortable. Not too long ago, Harry remembered brewing Polyjuice Potion in that very same spot, and he smiled a little bit. Myrtle's bathroom had always been a great place for secrets.

"So what did you want to tell us, Harry?" Hermione asked. Her voice was calm, but he could see the tension beneath the surface. The same feelings were mirrored in Ron's eyes, too, so he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"It all started at Privet Drive..."

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Several minutes later, Harry paused. His reason for doing so was twofold--first of all, he was out of breath from talking so much, and second, had had to decide what else to say. He'd just described how Sirius had saved him from Malfoy and Avery, and had reached the point in this story when they made it to Grimmauld Place--but what else should he say? He couldn't' tell them about Peter/Scabbers just yet, but he wanted to tell them the truth. And he so didn't want to lie to Ron and Hermione, or even to leave parts out for their own safety--

"But why did you go with Black?" Hermione asked the moment he stopped speaking. "That was really dangerous! He could have killed you, or worse!"

"He saved my life." Harry fought back the urge to snap at her. She didn't know Sirius. She couldn't understand.

"But he's a murderer, Harry," she objected.

"No, he's not."

"What?" Hermione gasped, staring at Harry as if he'd lost his mind. But a sudden thought occurred to him, and he no longer had time for her confusion.

"You don't have Scabbers with you now, do you?" he asked Ron hurriedly, suddenly realizing his mistake. Ron's brow creased in confusion.

"No. Why would I?" His friend gave him a strange look, then shrugged. "I left him back in the dormitory to keep him away from her mad cat."

"Cat--?"

"Yeah. She's got a loony cat named Crookshanks, and he wants to eat my rat."

"Ron, he's just being a cat!" Hermione objected. "Cats chase rats. It's not Crookshanks' fault. He doesn't understand."

"Whatever." Ron shrugged, his attention still on Harry. His look was very dubious. "You were saying that Black isn't a murderer?"

"No, he's not," Harry replied firmly, ignoring his best friends' doubtful frowns. "He was framed."

"I know you want to believe him because he saved your life," Hermione began in a very small and hesitant voice, "but he's got every reason to lie to you."

Harry shook his head. He'd expected this. "It goes a lot deeper than murder, Hermione," he replied. "Sirius is my godfather."

"Your what?" Ron gaped.

In that moment, looking at his two best friends' faces, Harry knew what he had to do. Ron and Hermione deserved to know everything, and unlike his professors, Harry knew that his friends wouldn't overreact. "Scabbers" wasn't there. There was no risk--other than Ron running out to murder his rat the way Harry knew he would want to. But Ron would listen, and if the worst happened, Harry and Hermione could always Stun him and deal with the consequences later. Harry sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge.

"When my parents went into hiding, they used the Fidelius Charm, which concealed their location in a single person. Unless that person told someone, no one could find us. Sirius was supposed to be their Secret Keeper. He was my dad's best friend," he explained slowly, trying not to think about his parents too much. Harry had had time to come to terms with what had happened, but that did not mean that it still could not hurt. "But at the last minute, he and another one of my dad's friends, Peter Pettigrew, switched places. Peter betrayed them to Voldemort."

Hermione gasped softly, but other than that, she and Ron watched Harry in sympathetic silence.

"But everyone, including Dumbledore, thought Sirius was the Secret Keeper. So when he went after Peter, Pettigrew started screaming that Sirius had betrayed my parents. Then he blew up the street, killing a dozen Muggles and making it look like Sirius had done it."

"Pettigrew died?" Ron asked quietly. Meanwhile, Hermione only frowned; Harry could see her smart mind already beginning to work.

"No." Harry shook his head. "He cut off his finger and escaped down a sewer, as a rat."

"He's an Animagus!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah. But no one knew, because he was unregistered, and so no one believed Sirius," he replied tightly, anger coloring his voice. "So they sent him to Azkaban."

"But how do you know that he's telling the truth?" Ron wondered. "Not that I don't believe you, Harry, but you have to admit that it sounds awfully fishy."

"Because I know where Pettigrew is," Harry responded grimly. "He's here."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "He's not--"

"Ron, I need you to promise me something," Harry interrupted her. "Promise me that you won't do anything. I'm not supposed to tell you this at all, so you've got to promise me that you won't do anything."

There was a long moment of silence, then his friend shrugged.

"I don't really understand why--but sure. I promise," Ron said trustingly.

"Okay," Harry breathed. He trusted Ron, and knew he'd keep his word. "It's Scabbers. Pettigrew is Scabbers."

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