Chapter 127 — The Other End of the Passage

Ron's voice reached us from further along the tunnel, and the three of us fell silent. I could not make out the words, only the pain in them. Something scraped over the earth beyond the bend, then receded into darkness.

I got onto my knees and tested my weight before standing as far as the ceiling allowed. ‘Harry, light. Hermione, keep behind him. If we have to turn back, we stay together.’

Harry raised his wand and said, ‘Lumos.’ Roots emerged from the dark above us, some low enough to catch our hair. The passage narrowed beyond the entrance, forcing us to follow one another down its uneven slope.

‘Hagrid won't know we're down here,’ Hermione said. She looked back towards the hole through which we had escaped the Willow.

‘He knows which way we came, and Lupin has the map,’ I told her. I hoped that would be enough to bring them after us. Waiting for help meant leaving Ron ahead with the dog that had dragged him away; I could still hear the last cry when I reached into my pouch.

I took out a disarming strip and checked that my brush remained within reach. ‘We find him, but we look before we go into any room. Keep the light past my shoulder, Harry.’

The passage forced us into a crouch. We moved as quickly as the ground allowed, with Harry adjusting his wand whenever my shadow swallowed the next bend. Twice I stopped to listen, holding up my scraped hand rather than risking a whisper. The second time, Ron cried out again.

A man's voice answered him, too distant to understand. It sounded as though the dog had changed back. I tightened my grip on the strip, careful not to crumple its working face.

The ache in my knee settled into a dull throb. Behind me, Hermione's breathing grew quieter as she found a pace she could sustain, and I tried to match it. Charging ahead would leave me alone with whatever had hurt Ron.

After what felt like ten minutes, the passage rose towards a wooden opening. A floorboard creaked overhead as I climbed high enough to look through. I waited, listening for a second step, then pulled myself into a dusty room with broken furniture along one wall.

No one stood beside the opening. I moved clear and signalled for the others to follow, watching the stairs while Harry's light travelled over claw marks in the wood. Some crossed older gouges; I could not tell which had been made that day.

Hermione went to a narrow gap between the boards covering a window. ‘The Shrieking Shack,’ she whispered. ‘I can see the edge of Hogsmeade.’

A gasp came from upstairs, followed by Ron telling someone to get away from him. I was moving before he finished. The stairs complained beneath my feet, announcing us with every step.

An open doorway led into a room with a damaged bed and chairs pushed against the wall. Ron sat on the floor with one leg held stiffly in front of him. Dark blood marked the torn cloth below his knee, and his eyes widened when he saw us.

‘Behind the door,’ he said, too urgently for me to mistake it for anything but a warning. I stopped Harry with an arm across his chest as the door moved.

Sirius Black stood behind it, one hand against the wood. He looked thinner than the man in the warnings, with skin pulled tight across his face. His gaze passed over Harry and settled on a fold of Ron's robe.

‘Keep away from him,’ I said. The strip was ready in my hand, but Ron lay too close to Black for me to like the angle.

‘I don't want the boy.’ Black looked at the paper, then back at Ron as though my warning had merely interrupted something more urgent.

‘You bit his leg,’ I said. Ron's breath caught as he tried to shift, giving the words an answer neither of us could ignore. Hermione moved towards him slowly, watching Black as she went; Harry remained beside me with his wand raised.

‘He was taking him away,’ Black said. He leaned forward when I asked whether he meant Scabbers, his grip tightening on the door. ‘That's what he calls himself now?’

The pieces of Lupin's story seemed to move closer together, but they still did not meet. Black could know the same names and events without telling us the truth about what he intended. I kept myself between him and Ron.

‘We know about Peter,’ I said. ‘We haven't proved that rat is him. If you have, explain how. From there.’

Black gave a short, rough laugh. ‘Twelve years. Twelve years while he slept in someone's pocket.’

He stepped towards Ron, and I moved across his path. When I told him to stay where he was, he ordered me out of the way without so much as looking at me.

Harry came forward beside me. ‘You don't get to tell us that. You hurt Ron and dragged him here.’

Black finally looked at him properly. Something faltered in his expression, and he said Harry's name with a familiarity that made Harry's wand rise higher.

‘Everyone says you gave my parents to Voldemort,’ Harry said. ‘And now you're telling us we should listen to you.’

‘I didn't give them to him.’ Black pointed at Ron's robe when Harry demanded to know who had. ‘Let me finish what I should have done twelve years ago.’

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from NovelPhoenix. Please report it.

He moved again, and Harry threw himself at him. They struck the side of the bed. Black went down with Harry following, one hand gripping the front of his filthy clothes and the other bringing his wand towards Black's face.

‘Harry, move away,’ I said, shifting to get a clear line past the bed. He did not seem to hear me. Black lay still beneath him, breathing hard, and that frightened me more than a struggle would have.

‘You look like him,’ Black said. Harry's hand began to shake, but Black kept watching his face. ‘Your father—’

‘Don't talk about him!’ Harry pressed the wand closer. From beside Ron, Hermione called his name, and I saw his mouth begin to shape another word.

I threw the strip through the space beside his raised arm. ‘Expelliarmus!’

The prepared paper released its spell, and Harry's wand flew sideways to strike the floorboards near the wall. I moved between him and where it had landed while the spent strip curled down beside the bed. There was no taking that decision back now.

Harry stared at his empty hand before turning on me. ‘Why? You heard what he said.’

‘I heard him,’ I said. ‘You were about to hurt someone before we know what happened. Ron needs help, and killing Black won't give it to him.’

Black began to lift his head. I pointed him back down before returning my attention to Harry, who had gone pale and was breathing fast. I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder; the way he watched me kept mine at my side.

‘I saw a name on a map,’ I said. ‘You've read the notes. That gives us a reason to check his story, not permission to decide who dies in this room. I'm not letting him take the rat either.’

For a few seconds, Harry looked at me as though I had become another obstacle between him and his parents. Then Ron made a small sound behind us, and Harry turned. Blood was spreading through the handkerchief Hermione had folded over the wound. Ron had stopped pretending he could get up.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. I moved so that I could see both the doorway and Black while Harry rose slowly from beside the bed. Lupin appeared with his wand drawn and his breath coming hard.

‘Move back from him, Sirius.’ His eyes went straight to Ron's leg, and he crossed the room without lowering his wand. Black opened his mouth, but Lupin was already kneeling beside Ron.

Hermione lifted the cloth when he asked to see the wound. Ron hissed through his teeth as Lupin examined it, then looked at the way he was holding his foot.

‘Don't try to stand,’ Lupin told him. ‘Miss Granger, keep the pressure there. Mr Mercer, that chair has a broken rung. Bring it to me.’

I pulled the chair out, snapped the loose piece away from its frame and handed it over. Lupin tore strips from the clean inner fold of his robe and secured the wood alongside Ron's leg. Hermione kept talking quietly to Ron while he clenched his jaw through the work.

‘Madam Pomfrey needs to see this,’ Lupin said. ‘The support is for moving you. It hasn't healed the injury.’

I asked how he had found us while he checked the last fastening. He told me he had seen our names moving away from Hagrid's hut, then Sirius beside us and all of us going under the Willow. He had known where the passage led.

‘You've seen him, then,’ Black said. He had pulled himself up against the bedpost, his attention fixed on Lupin. ‘You've seen Peter.’

‘On the map,’ Lupin replied. ‘I still need to see who is inside that robe.’

Ron tightened his arm across his chest. ‘He bit my finger too,’ he said, showing Lupin his hand.

Lupin examined the bite and gave Hermione another piece of cloth before standing between Black and the rest of us. ‘No one touches the rat until we can examine him safely.’

Black stared at him, and the anger in his face changed into something harder to watch. ‘You thought I did it. All this time.’

Lupin took a moment to answer. ‘Yes. Until Oswald brought me Peter's name.’

Black's hand began to shake against the bedpost. Lupin took a step towards him, then stopped when Ron made another small sound behind us. ‘We will talk,’ he said. ‘First we get them out of here.’

Harry stood beside his fallen wand without picking it up. His gaze followed the two men, moving from one face to the other before he asked, ‘Are you going to let him go?’

‘No,’ Lupin said. ‘I am going to find out what happened.’

‘Then you might begin by keeping your distance from him.’ Snape stood in the doorway with his wand aimed at Black. His gaze passed over Lupin and came to rest on Ron's supported leg. ‘You have been busy.’

‘Severus. The rat is here.’ Lupin turned towards him but stayed beside Ron.

‘So I see,’ Snape said. ‘Along with the man we have been trying to keep away from the students.’

‘He's been trying to reach Peter,’ I said. Snape's eyes came to me at once, and I heard how much certainty I had put into a sentence that did not deserve it.

‘Has the animal been identified, Mr Mercer?’ he asked. I admitted it had not.

‘Then we shall preserve the opportunity to do so.’ He moved into the room, leaving the doorway clear. ‘Black, move away from the children. Remus, keep your wand where I can see it.’

Black gave a harsh laugh and began to tell him what he had always enjoyed. Snape cut him off before he could finish, his wand never leaving him. ‘Be silent. You left without your dose, Remus. I have it here.’

He touched the pocket inside his cloak with his free hand. Lupin's face changed, and he glanced towards the boarded window before trying to explain.

‘I saw them on the map,’ he said. ‘When I looked up, you hadn't arrived. There wasn't time—’

‘You knew it was due.’ Snape's voice was quiet enough that Ron's breathing seemed loud beside it. ‘I arrived to an empty office and an open map. You will take the potion, and we are returning to the school.’

Lupin nodded and agreed that we needed to go. I remembered the labelled bottle beside the cauldron, and the questions I had asked about what it did. I had not imagined a missed dose becoming another thing to worry about in a room already full of them.

Harry crouched beside Ron. Hermione was still pressing the cloth against his leg, her wand laid beside her knee.

‘Can I have that?’ Harry asked her. ‘For the light.’

She passed it over, and he lit the tip near enough for her to see the edge of the makeshift dressing. I let myself look away from him as Snape turned back towards Black.

‘You will walk in front of me,’ Snape said. ‘Keep your hands visible. If you attempt another transformation—’

‘You'll give me to the Dementors,’ Black interrupted. ‘Yes, Severus. I remember your imagination.’

Snape's mouth tightened. ‘The Minister is on the grounds. You will explain yourself with more witnesses than these children.’

Harry looked up from the dressing. ‘He thinks Sirius killed Peter.’

‘Then the continued possession of that rat would seem particularly useful, Potter.’ Snape stepped across Black as he made another movement towards Ron. With his free hand, he began bringing the small bottle out of his cloak.

Harry stood, Hermione's wand still in his hand. ‘Don't take him out before we know!’

Snape began to turn, and I was reaching towards Harry when he shouted, ‘Expelliarmus!’ Snape's wand flew from his grip. He staggered backwards over the chair I had pulled out, struck the bedpost with his shoulder and went down hard on one knee.

The bottle slipped from his other hand and broke against the boards. I heard the glass before I saw the liquid spreading through the dust.