Chapter 19
Fred couldn't help but shake his head as he exchanged a glance with George. The sounds of yet another argument between Ron, Hermione, and Harry filled the common room, the trio of thirteen-year-olds almost always on edge this year. Ron and Hermione seemed to have perfected the art of irritation, and Harry was in the perfect mood to match them. The bickering had become almost a constant in their lives, like an annoying, unavoidable background noise that no one could escape.
"-Neither of you are listening to me! Scabbers bit me, not the other way around!" Harry's voice was tense, his words barely a whisper as he shot a glare at the others. His frustration was palpable, and the intensity of his stare made it clear that he was done with the whole situation.
"-And now poor Ron can't even hold his rat because Percy’s confiscated him-" Hermione was trying, yet again, to make her point. Her voice was a frustrated whisper, but it didn’t seem to help. Her exasperation was starting to show in the way she was practically pleading with the other two, her hands thrown up in the air as though the situation could somehow be solved with a dramatic gesture.
"You probably did something to upset him-" Ron snapped, his arms crossed tightly, and Harry stormed off in response, his frustration evident as he shoved his way out of the portrait hole. Ron and Hermione weren’t far behind, their argument still very much alive, their voices continuing to echo in the hall as they followed Harry out.
Fred couldn't help but sigh at the chaos. It was like this all the time now, the tension, the drama, the never-ending cycle of misunderstandings and arguments. It was almost as if they were all living in one big soap opera, and Fred had to admit, it made things more interesting.
"Quite a barmy trio this year, aren’t they, Forge?" George whispered, leaning against the wall beside him, his tone amused but weary. His eyes followed the direction the trio had gone, a hint of sympathy behind the amusement. Fred rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Barmy is one way to describe it, Gred," he replied, his gaze drifting back to the common room, his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Harry, though. It had been a rough year for him, and the constant tension between his friends wasn’t making things any easier.
"Think Harrikins needs a bit of support, don’t you?" Fred said after a moment, glancing over at George with a raised eyebrow.
“Mm, don’t blame him. Ronnie and Hermi are being right bums this year,” George agreed with a heavy sigh. He shook his head, clearly exasperated by the situation. But then, before Fred could comment further, Percy appeared at the top of the stairs, his hand wrapped in a bloody cloth, looking even more serious than usual. The normally composed and collected Percy was looking downright dishevelled, and that was never a good sign.
“What happened to you?” George asked quickly, his concern creeping into his voice as he moved toward their older brother.
“Scabbers,” Percy muttered with a grimace, the bandage still tightly clutched in his hand. “I don’t know what’s going on with that rat, but every time I try to hold him, I get bitten.” His voice was strained, clearly unsettled by the fact that the rat, who had always been so docile, was now behaving in such an erratic and dangerous way. Fred exchanged a quick look with George, his amusement fading slightly as he took in the sight of their brother’s injury.
"Not good," Fred began, his voice low and thoughtful, his eyes scanning Percy’s hand for any signs of deeper damage.
"Not good at all," George echoed, his eyes narrowing as he carefully examined the bloody cloth. Fred quickly assessed the situation.
“I’d say take it to the Magical Creatures teacher, but…” he began with a raised eyebrow, while George hummed thoughtfully beside him.
“Hagrid would probably just let him loose, and from what we’ve heard…” George trailed off with a grin, clearly amused by the thought of their beloved giant of a friend’s usual ‘solutions’ to problems.
“Ankles are a favourite treat of his,” Fred finished with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with mischief despite the seriousness of the situation.
He moved forward, carefully peeling back the cloth around Percy’s hand. The sight of the wound made him wince. The bite was nasty-Fred could almost see the bone. He quickly re-wrapped the cloth around it, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
“You need Pomfrey,” Fred said seriously, his usual playful tone gone as he kept his brother steady. He could feel the weight of the situation now, the reality of what had happened sinking in.
“I’ll go grab his cage,” George called out as he made his way toward the stairs. “Probably best to ask McGonagall to check him over and maybe ask for special permission to send him home to Mum and Dad.” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of urgency behind it. Percy blinked in confusion as Fred gently started pulling him toward the portrait hole.
“Urm…” he began, but Fred just hummed nonchalantly.
“You’re actually hurt, Percy,” Fred said, his voice light, though his eyes were serious. “We’re not going to leave you bleeding all over the place. Come on, let George handle the cannibal animal, and we’ll get you right as rain in no time.” He gave his brother a wink, trying to keep the situation light, even though Percy was clearly a little lost in the moment. It was hard to believe that the studious Percy, the one who always had everything together, was now being led through the halls by Fred like a dazed and confused younger sibling.
“I am so confused,” Percy muttered, and Fred couldn’t help but chuckle. It was rare for Percy to show any kind of vulnerability, but now, in the face of an injury from Scabbers, it was all too apparent.
What was going on with Scabbers was definitely something George could deal with-he was the one who usually fought off the more aggressive gnomes, after all. Plus, it would give Fred some time to scout out the halls for the golden trio. He hoped that they'd found each other and made up, but he doubted it.
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Sirius gritted his teeth as he lay sprawled in the damp, dark cave, every breath coming a little too sharply. His wounds throbbed, an unpleasant reminder of how close he'd come to losing the fight-and of how close he'd come to losing everything. He clutched the meagre supplies he'd salvaged, trying and failing to work some magic on his injuries. The muttered incantation slid off his tongue, but the stitching spell didn't take. His leg pulsed with pain, and the bleeding didn't stop.
"Fuck." The word came out like a curse, low and full of frustration. He glanced at the dog bites on his leg, feeling the weight of his failures pressing down on him. "Remus was always better at healing spells... damn it." He ran a hand through his matted hair, staring at his wounds as though they might somehow offer him an answer. But there was no magic in the air tonight-only silence and pain.
“Who am I even talking to?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
“I’s be hopin’ it be me.” The squeaky voice made him stiffen. He wasn’t expecting company-certainly not from one of them. Meepy, that irrepressible house elf, stood at the cave entrance, her eyes wide with a mixture of annoyance and concern.
"You’s be supposed to be keepin' Little Mistress Lyra and Young Master Harry from harm. Nows you been run out and hurt too," she scolded, hands on her hips as though she were reprimanding a misbehaving child. With a wave of her hand, Sirius’s wounds were cleaned, stitched, and wrapped with such precision it made his head spin.
"I tried-" Sirius began, feeling a little embarrassed by how quickly she'd taken control of the situation, but she cut him off with a sharp finger raised in the air.
"I knows you tried. But yous been running 'round Hoggywarts all the time," Meepy continued, pacing now as though the issue was something far more pressing than his injuries. "What is Mister Grim-Sirius looking for?"
Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. He’d always felt odd around house elves, but Meepy’s directness made him feel like a child again, being lectured by an annoyed Euphemia. He didn’t want to feel like that again-not now, not when he had more pressing matters to deal with.
"The person who caused their parents' deaths..." he trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to put the next part into words. "He’s in the castle. He’s a rat animagus, and I need to find him… to…" His voice faltered. What exactly was he trying to do to Peter Pettigrew? What did he even want? "To clear my name," he muttered finally, though it sounded a little hollow. Meepy didn’t look convinced, her tiny face furrowing in thought.
“Yous needs him to proves you innocent, yes? We’s be talking to lots of elves, you sees. Is how we knews you were you.” she questioned, Sirius felt a shiver crawl up his spine. House elves? Talking about him? But before he could voice his confusion, Meepy continued, her voice quieter, more solemn. "We’s been told you’s not get proper justice. They’s just decided you’s guilty. Kreacher thinks you’s a waste, anyways, but Kreacher’s opinion is wrong."
"Kreacher?" Sirius muttered, his stomach tightening at the mention of the name. The elf’s thoughts were as twisted as the man he served-he’d known that much. But the mention of Kreacher’s dismissal of him, that cold judgment, made him feel even more alone in a world that had already abandoned him.
"His brain be’s too messy, too full of wizard thoughts and ideas," Meepy said seriously, shaking her head as if she could almost pity Kreacher. "He thinks himself above normal elves. He thinks he decides who is and isn’t family, but he be wrong."
Sirius didn’t know what to say to that. What was Kreacher, then? He couldn’t imagine how the house elf could possibly come to see things so differently from him-but that was a thought for another time. Meepy had a plan, and for whatever reason, she was trying to help him.
“We’s going to take you backs to the cottage now, Mister Grim-Sirius,” Meepy said, her tone firm. “Then you’s gonna contact Missy Madame Bones and then we gets mister bad rat.” Sirius looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“...why?” he asked, Meepy’s eyes softened just slightly as she explained.
"Mister Grim-Sirius makes both Little Mistress Lyra and Young Master Harry feel safe. Even if they’s not know he’s him, they still feels safe. Plus, we be talking to Mimi in the Pottery, she extra sure yous supposed to be their guardian."
"Mimi?" Sirius whispered, the word barely leaving his lips before a sharp pang of nostalgia hit him. He hadn’t realised Mimi-the Mimi-was still around, still working in the Pottery. He hadn’t even known the Pottery still stood. Meepy gave him a look that was both gentle and knowing, though she didn’t allow him much time to reflect.
"I thinks we talks more about this somewheres safe."
Before Sirius could even protest, Meepy held out a hand, and in an instant, the world around him blurred. He felt his stomach lurch as the space around him warped, and the damp cave was replaced by the familiar warmth of the cottage.
Sirius could hardly believe it-he was following a plan made by house elves, of all things. But as his eyes flickered over to the safe, comforting space around him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this strange alliance might actually work.
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George knocked on Professor McGonagall’s office door, his heart pounding in his chest as he clutched the cage with Scabbers tightly in his hands. He wasn’t sure what exactly had been going on with the rat lately, but something definitely wasn’t right. The usual lethargy and docile nature Scabbers had always exhibited were gone, replaced by frantic energy and unpredictable behaviour. George couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more dangerous was at play, even though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. After a brief moment of silence, he pushed the door open and stepped in, finding McGonagall seated at her desk, busily pouring herself a cup of tea. The warm, rich aroma filled the air, but it did little to calm his nerves.
"Ah, Mister Weasley," McGonagall said without looking up, her voice as dry and crisp as always. "Missing your other half, are we?" She raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze flicking to the cage in his hands. "And collecting lost pets, hmm?" George gave her a lopsided grin, trying to mask the unease gnawing at him. He shifted the cage uncomfortably.
"Fred’s off with Percy. He got a pretty nasty bite from Scabbers. We were hoping you could take a quick look at him, Professor?" He placed the cage gently on her desk, watching the rat skitter nervously inside. Scabbers seemed more restless than usual, darting around the cage in erratic movements.
McGonagall's expression softened for just a moment as she slipped her wand from her robes and flicked it with practiced ease. She glanced at the cage, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the rat. "Ah, yes, I remember Scabbers-always in Mister Percival’s care. He’s usually quite docile, isn't he?" she mused, her lips pursing slightly as she considered the rat. "And I believe young Mister Potter was also bitten yesterday, if I’m not mistaken?"
"Yeah," George replied, scratching the back of his neck, his mind still reeling from the strange behaviour of the rat. "Don’t know what’s gotten into him. He all but growled at me when I carried him here." His voice dropped slightly as he spoke the words. The idea of a rat growling at him still didn’t feel real. It was bizarre and unsettling.
"Not normal behaviour at all, hmm," McGonagall murmured, her tone thoughtful now. She waved her wand over the cage, and George watched as the rat briefly flashed red, a strange flicker of magic he didn’t fully understand. The moment was brief but intense, and a scroll materialized beside McGonagall, its parchment unfurling to fill with words. Her eyes flicked down to the scroll, scanning its contents. The look on her face shifted then, the subtle warmth fading into something far more serious, her sharp eyes narrowing as her fingers gripped the wand with increased tension. George took a small step forward, his unease growing. Something was definitely off now.
"Professor?" he asked, his voice edged with worry. "What’s wrong? Is Percy going to be okay?"
McGonagall didn’t answer immediately. Her face had gone stone cold, and she muttered something under her breath, her wand moving with a precision that made George’s stomach tighten. The air around the desk seemed to grow heavier, charged with an energy George couldn’t explain. He took a step back, glancing at Scabbers, who was now frantically scratching at the sides of the cage, its panic palpable. The rat's eyes were wide and wild, and it seemed to be reacting to something unseen, something George couldn’t sense. His pulse quickened as his instincts screamed that whatever was happening here, it was more than just a sick animal.
"Go to your dorm," McGonagall finally said, her voice sharp and final, breaking the tense silence. "I’ll handle this from here. Your brother should be fine. Leave… Scabbers here." Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. The subtle shift in her demeanour was unsettling, and George’s confusion deepened.
"Wait, what?" George blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden change in her tone. "Professor, I-"
"Now, Weasley," McGonagall interrupted, her voice turning cold and commanding. "Go. And don’t say anything to anyone about this. It’s not for you to concern yourself with." Her eyes were like ice, and her gaze didn’t waver as she held his stare.
George swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. The unease inside him grew into something darker, something more threatening. He glanced down at the cage, where Scabbers was now in full panic mode, darting around desperately in a way George had never seen before. It was hard to ignore the chill creeping up his spine. Whatever McGonagall had found in Scabbers, it wasn’t just a random bite.
"Okay..." he muttered, feeling awkward and uncertain. His mind was spinning, but he hesitated one last time, torn between questioning the professor further and following her orders. Slowly, he turned and made his way toward the door, his hand lingering on the knob. As he closed the door behind him, he heard McGonagall’s voice, low and urgent, as she spoke to someone on the other side of the room.
"Head Auror’s office, Amelia Bones."
Something about the way she said it made George’s blood run cold. Whatever was happening with Scabbers, it was a lot bigger than just a few random bites.
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“Potter,” Lyra jumped slightly at the sound of Draco’s voice cutting through the silence. He drawled, his tone as insufferable as ever. She barely caught the book in time, feeling it slip from her hands and flutter to the floor. Her heart raced for a second before she quickly regained her composure. Sirius, ever the loyal guardian, was by her side instantly, his nose bumping against Draco’s outstretched hand. The cold contact made Draco stiffen, and for a moment, neither moved.
Lyra watched as Sirius, the ever-curious Grim, sniffed Draco's hand, pausing only briefly before his large tongue darted out to lick the back of it. The moment seemed to freeze, and Draco’s eyes darted between Sirius and her, his usual arrogance replaced by a rare hint of unease.
“You know, he’s been here since the start of term, and I’ve not seen you pet him once,” Lyra remarked, her voice calm but probing. She couldn’t help but wonder what Draco’s reaction would be, watching him avoid the dog's gaze. "He’s not going to eat you."
“I know he’s not going to eat me.” Draco scoffed, brushing off her comment with a defensive edge in his voice. But despite his words, he hesitated before slowly reaching down to pet Sirius, his fingers almost reluctant. As he did so, he glanced at the book Lyra had been reading. “'Heirship announcements, customs and duties?' Researching on your brother's account?” Lyra rolled her eyes, uninterested in defending herself.
“Sure,” she said with a shrug, not willing to admit that the book was for her own purposes. “Anyway, what do you want? You hunted me down in an abandoned classroom for a reason.” Her tone was dismissive, though she was curious about what he was after.
“It came to my attention that you’ve officially gotten the other first years in line. I must say, me and the other higher years are... impressed by your maturity and attitude in handling their earlier attitudes.” Draco, trying to sound diplomatic, continued. She raised an eyebrow at him, not fooled by his carefully worded compliment.
“Thank you,” she said, though she didn’t sound particularly impressed. She waited for him to continue, expecting something more. Draco smirked slightly.
“Greedy for compliments?” he teased before his expression hardened, becoming more serious. “My mother expects you at Malfoy Manor this Yule break. I assume you’ll have to discuss it with your brother, but she’s hoping you’ll grace the manor for some... important lessons in being a lady of an Ancient and Noble house.” Her stomach clenched slightly at the thought, but she tried to keep her voice neutral.
“I’ll need to talk to Harry,” she said, her mind already running through the potential complications. “We’ve already spent two Christmases apart, and with Sirius Black still on the loose, it might not even be down to us.” Draco seemed to process her words, his lips curving into a thoughtful frown.
“Who, exactly, would it be ‘down to’?” he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her.
“Well, there’s an old man with a long beard, and he runs this British...” She trailed off as realisation hit her like a lightning bolt. “I need to find Harry.” She snapped her book shut and stood up quickly, slipping past Draco without waiting for his response.
“Potter!” Draco’s voice called after her, but she didn’t stop, her thoughts already a whirlwind of possibilities.
She found Harry within a few minutes, his familiar form a relief among the sea of students. Without much thought, she grabbed his elbow, yanking him away from his friends.
“Need to steal my brother!” she said with a grin, ignoring the surprised glances from his classmates. Sirius followed them, nudging Harry from behind like a silent but forceful reminder that they were a team.
“Wait, Lyra-” Harry began to protest, but she didn’t give him a chance to finish. She tugged him down the hall toward a quiet alcove, away from prying eyes. Once they were alone, Lyra shoved him into one of the seats.
“Dumbledore.” she blurted.
“Lyra, you aren’t making sense.” Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly not following her. She paced, running her fingers through her hair as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
“Remember when... when I had that ‘episode’ on our first day away from the Dursleys? I saw an old man with a long beard and moon-shaped spectacles, and then I was talking to Draco about Yule, and I said that we’d probably be stuck here because of Sirius Black, but that Dumbledore would have a say in it, and then it clicked-I was describing him-”
“Oh, of course Draco had something to say about Dumbledore-” Harry interrupted, clearly not expecting anything less. Lyra snapped her fingers in annoyance.
“No, no. It’s not a Draco thing.” She gave him a hard look. “Just listen. Dumbledore’s our magical guardian. I saw an old man with a long beard and moon-shaped glasses. who does that sound like?! He’s been pulling strings this whole time, and now it all makes sense.” Harry froze, his face going pale as the weight of her words settled in.
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“I’m telling you, Harry-he’s our magical guardian,” Lyra repeated, her tone firm but tinged with frustration. “He has control over what happens to us, including where we go and who we’re allowed to be with.” Harry sat there for a long moment, the realisation dawning on him in real-time.
“Oh my god… that makes so much sense,” he muttered under his breath. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, clearly overwhelmed.
“Exactly,” Lyra agreed, her heart racing as she thought about what this meant for their future. “And that’s why we need to talk to the Goblins, or get some lawyers involved, or... something.” Harry nodded slowly, his mind clearly working overtime.
“I’ll write a letter to Gringotts,” he said, his voice calmer now. “I’ll get parchment from Hogsmeade this weekend, and then we’ll send it off. We’ll figure it out.” Lyra nodded, though she still felt a sense of urgency.
"Okay. Sounds good." She then sighed, her shoulders relaxing a little as she rested a hand on Sirius’s head. The comforting warmth of their bond surged through her, and she smiled. “Oh! Harry, guess what? Me and Sirius finally formed a familiar bond.” Harry grinned, clearly relieved to hear some good news.
“That’s great!” he said, reaching down to pet the dog. But as soon as his hand touched Sirius, the dog stiffened and pulled back, eyeing him warily. For a moment, Harry and Lyra froze, both of them watching as Sirius sniffed Harry’s hand. Then, with cautious acceptance, the Grim allowed Harry to pet him.
“That was... odd,” Harry muttered, still processing the strange behavior, Lyra shrugged.
“He’s been careful lately. I think he got into a fight a few days ago and is just being extra cautious.” she explained.
“Poor guy.” Harry ran his fingers through Sirius’s fur, muttered. Lyra watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“Draco wants me to come to Malfoy Manor for Christmas,” she said, unsure of how to gauge Harry’s reaction. Harry’s head snapped up, his face tight.
“...You could’ve given me the good news last, right? Dumbledore, Draco, then the familiar bond. That would’ve been less whiplash for me.” He looked up at her with a deadpan expression, clearly trying to process everything.
“Well…” Lyra rubbed the back of her neck. “Are you okay with it? I want to go because his mother’s offering me lessons on how to handle being a lady of an Ancient and Noble house-”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Harry interjected firmly, sitting up straighter. “There are other people who can teach you those lessons. You don’t need to get involved with the Malfoys.” Lyra sighed, her shoulders slumping a little.
“It’s not like that. Look, I know you think this is a bad idea, but I promise I’ve thought it through.”
“Did you have an ‘episode’ about this?” Harry shot her a skeptical look. He asked, his voice cautious but knowing. Lyra hesitated, then nodded.
“Yeah, I did,” she lied. “It’s important, Harry. I need to go. At least, if I can.” Harry stared at her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. But after a long moment, he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Fine. But if anything goes wrong, you call Meepy or Peemy, got it?” He ordered, Lyra smiled at him, a sense of relief washing over her as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered, hoping that nothing would go wrong-especially not with her plans to go to Malfoy Manor for Christmas.