Sarah Learns a Lesson
“I’m telling you, it makes perfect sense!”
“Hannah…”
Sarah carefully fitted another small mesh bag over a crystalline sugar shrub blossom. There was an infestation of glumbumbles who were drawn by the sweet flowers and were stealing all of the precious pollen.
“No one would ever suspect Sirius Black would turn into a flowering shrub!”
Sarah gave her particular flowering shrub a skeptical look. She doubted it was capable of wielding a knife.
“Hannah, cut it out,” hissed Susan. “Sarah’s right there.”
Sarah’s eye twitched, but she carefully tied the bag closed around the flower without decapitating it.
“Sarah doesn’t mind,” said Hannah. “I bet she’s as curious as the rest of us how he got in.”
Sarah glanced at Hannah and Susan, then picked up another bag.
“But how would he have got in the castle as a shrub?” asked Ron Weasley. “That’d be some trick.”
“That’s what makes it so brilliant,” said Hannah loftily.
“There…there are walking shrubs,” stuttered Neville Longbottom.
“See?” said Hannah.
“I think someone would have noticed a shrub walking around the castle,” said Susan drily. “They can’t be very fast.”
Hannah spent the rest of their Herbology lesson trying to convince everyone of her shrub theory. Sarah didn’t pay much attention. All the talk about how Sirius Black got in, coupled with him trying to get into Gryffindor Tower, had been going on for days. It was tiresome. There were tons of ways to get into the castle. He could have made himself invisible and walked through the front doors, or climbed in through a window.
The real question was how he had got past the dementors, especially if he only had a knife. Sarah wanted to know how to do that.
At the end of class, Sarah carried her sugar shrub to Professor Sprout, careful not to shake it. The school got all of its sugar from the plants. Treacle was made from sugar. Treacle tarts were made with treacle. It was critical to save as many of the blossoms as possible.
“Excellent work,” said Professor Sprout, smiling at her. Sarah nodded, then went to pack up her things. They had an essay to write on sugar shrub pollination, which was done by hand when the plant was being cultivated. That was something an upper year Herbology class would do in the spring.
Sarah waited until everyone else was gone before leaving the greenhouse. She could walk short distances easily enough without her crutches, but going uphill to the castle was pushing herself too far. When she exited the greenhouse, she was surprised to see Ron Weasley lurking around. He froze when he noticed her, and his ears turned bright red.
“My brother, Percy, he’s Head Boy,” Ron said quickly, his words running together. “He told me to look out for you. You know, in case Sirius Black shows up. Or one of the shrubs turns into him.”
The boy laughed awkwardly, then turned more red when he looked at Sarah.
Sarah was not amused by the situation. She did not need looking after.
“Potter, you shouldn’t be lingering on the grounds,” said Professor Sprout from behind her. “I’ll walk you up to the castle. Weasley, what are you still doing here?”
Ron spluttered, then ran away. Sarah watched him go, then looked up at Professor Sprout.
“Well, come on,” said Professor Sprout impatiently. “I haven’t got all day!”
Sarah rolled her eyes and followed Professor Sprout up to the castle.
The incident with Ron Weasley was indicative of a larger problem. Sarah was not only being watched all the time, but followed all the time. The Head Boy had taken it upon himself to spearhead this latest imposition on Sarah, and she noticed him tailing her from a distance between all of her classes, and even to the library. The Head Girl was in on this scheme too, following Sarah into lavatories. She stopped using the lavatories between classes, and only used the one in her dormitory.
The Head Boy and Girl were not the only ones. Sarah’s teachers appeared out of nowhere when she was walking down corridors and pretended they had business in the same direction she was going. Professor Sprout walked her from the greenhouses, and Hagrid walked her from his cabin, where the Care of Magical Creatures class met.
Sarah was tempted to owl Sirius Black and challenge him to a duel, just to get it over with. She had decided, after Ripper had taken her leg, that she didn’t want to be afraid anymore. If Sirius Black was determined to kill her, she would simply have to kill him first.
As the week progressed, the conversations Sarah unwillingly overheard started shifting from Sirius Black to the upcoming quidditch game. She was worried she would be made to attend the game, rather than have the castle to herself.
After the brief dry spell, the weather had turned. The rain grew heavier as the days passed. Sarah was looking forward to spending a quiet day reading while everyone else got soaked watching people fly around.
One downside to the rain was her crutches getting stuck in the mud. Sarah had been practicing the Drought Charm, but she had to stop to cast it, then the ground would get wet again straight away. It made getting to and from Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures frustrating, and made her late to her next classes.
“Sure you don’t want a lift?” asked Hagrid, peering down at her.
Sarah nodded, hoping he understood that it meant, Yes, I am sure. She yanked her crutch out of what looked like a flooded knarl hole and continued up to the castle. Hagrid had got his pink flowered umbrella out, which made Sarah nervous, but he only used it as an actual umbrella. It wasn’t near big enough to cover him, and he held it mostly over Sarah. That meant Hagrid was getting rained on. He smelled like a wet dog. Even if Sarah was willing to be carried around like an invalid, the smell would have put her off.
When they reached the entrance hall, Sarah nodded in thanks, then started up the stairs towards the Defense classroom. She was going to be late, but she knew Professor Lupin wouldn’t mind. Most of her teachers didn’t.
Sarah entered the classroom as quietly as she could, in case Professor Lupin had already started lecturing. She had enchanted her crutches the same as her shoes, so they didn’t make any sound. There were charms to keep water and mud off things. Sarah felt irritated for not thinking of them sooner. She would have to go to the library and—
“You’re late, Potter.”
Sarah froze, then looked to the front of the classroom. Snape was standing behind Professor Lupin’s desk. Sarah spun around and decided that Defense simply wasn’t in the cards for her that day.
“Sit down,” her most hated teacher snapped. “You’re already fifteen minutes late, which I believe warrants fifteen points from Hufflepuff. If you leave this room, that will be fifty points.”
Sarah closed her eyes. She could not give a shit about house points, but other people were obsessed with them. She knew Zacharias Smith would not shut up about it if she lost them fifty points in one go.
Before Sarah could decide, Susan raised her hand.
“What is it, Bones?” asked Snape.
“Professor, I don’t think that’s fair,” said Susan, lowering her hand. “Sarah’s only got one leg, so it takes her longer to get places.”
Snape looked directly at Sarah’s left leg. It was hidden by her robes, but it still made Sarah uncomfortable.
“I see two,” said Snape. “And another five points from Hufflepuff for attempting to deceive me. Sit down, Potter, or are you deaf as well as mute?”
Gripping her crutches, Sarah walked to her seat at the back of the room and sat down.
“Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four,” said Snape. “Today we shall discuss werewolves. What is it, Boot?”
“Our next topic is hinkypunks, professor,” said Terry Boot.
“A first-year student could deal with a hinkypunk,” said Snape dismissively. “What, Patil?”
Padma Patil lowered her hand. “Where is Professor Lupin, sir?”
“None of your concern,” said Snape coldly. “Anyone who has not opened their book to page three hundred and ninety-four will be receiving detention.”
Sarah hadn’t even got her book out yet. She could feel Snape’s eyes on her as she rummaged around her bag.
“Potter, how can one distinguish between a true wolf and a werewolf?” Snape demanded.
Frustrated, Sarah took out her wand. The words practically wrote themselves in the air above her desk.
One of them’s a person
She stopped herself from adding, you slimy git. Barely.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” whispered Hannah, who had turned around to look.
One of the boys in Ravenclaw laughed. Snape stared daggers at Sarah, then vanished the burning red words with a slash of his wand. Sarah scowled at him.
“Put your wand away, you impudent girl,” snarled Snape. “Turpin!”
A Ravenclaw girl squeaked. “The snout?”
The rest of class was spent taking notes from the book. Snape didn’t teach them anything at all, which was exactly how he taught potions. He just put recipes on the board and walked around criticizing everyone without explaining anything. Sarah thought, apart from Snape being a creepy, bitter man, he was also a shit teacher.
Sarah flipped through the chapter on werewolves. She had already read about them before, as she had worked through the entire book in second year. She knew that, when transformed, werewolves looked similar to real wolves, and the main difference was how they treated humans. A real wolf would run away, while a werewolf would run a human down. There was also the fact that real wolves had been hunted to extinction in Britain. If you saw a wolf, it was a werewolf.
It was harder to identify people who had lycanthropy when they weren’t transformed. They looked like regular people, because they were regular people. Sarah tried to ignore Snape stalking past her and mocking her essay about grindylows. She had written about how they weren’t demons or spirits, which was true, but didn’t have much to do with fighting them. Professor Lupin had given her full points. Snape said she deserved zero.
She got to the part of the werewolf chapter that talked about the Wolfsbane Potion and paused. The Wolfsbane potion used aconite, which was also called monkshood or wolfsbane. Sarah had wolfsbane in her room at the Dursleys’. It smelled something like radish.
Sarah glanced at Snape, then looked back at the book. Why was he making them read about werewolves, months ahead of schedule, when Professor Lupin was sick? She narrowed her eyes. It was suspicious. Professor Lupin said he was feeling poorly, and had drunk that nasty, radish-smelling potion. Sarah knew it had been the full moon recently, since she could see the bloody thing and they talked about it in Astronomy.
Did Snape want them to think Professor Lupin was a werewolf, or was he actually a werewolf? Was that why Snape hated him, and why he acted like Professor Lupin was going to attack him?
“I want two rolls of parchment on how to identify and kill werewolves,” said Snape.
Sarah gaped at him. An essay on killing werewolves. Did he want them to kill Professor Lupin?
There was something very, very wrong with Snape.
Sarah glanced out of a window, at the storm battering the castle. Professor Sprout’s office was in a greenhouse, which would be a pain to get to. She didn’t want to send Hedwig into the rain.
When the bell rang, Sarah quietly gathered her things. If Professor Lupin was a werewolf, what Snape was doing was wrong.
Sarah sat close to the door so she was the first out of the room, even with her crutches. She headed towards the Great Hall for lunch, thinking about what to do. She ignored the Head Boy when he materialized out of a side corridor. He seemed to have memorized Sarah’s schedule, which was extremely common among the other students. Sarah was pretty sure people had made a game of finding her, like some real life Where’s Wally.
In the Great Hall, she made straight for the head table. All of the teachers weren’t at every meal, from what Sarah observed, but usually either Professor McGonagall or the headmaster were there to supervise. Sarah liked Professor McGonagall more, though she had been part of the conspiracy to leave Sarah with the Dursleys. She wasn’t the one who cast a spell using Sarah’s dead mum.
“What is it, Potter?” asked Professor McGonagall.
Sarah took a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill from her bag. She looked around to make sure no one was trying to read over her shoulder. She wrote, Snape is making us write an essay on killing werewolves.
Professor McGonagall’s lips thinned as she read the note. She picked it up and tucked it into her robes.
“I see,” she said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Now, join your housemates for lunch.”
Sarah almost smiled when she saw Snape swoop into the Great Hall. She sat down near the seventh-years, close to the head table, watching as Professor McGonagall rose to intercept Snape.
Sarah faced the table before Snape caught her looking. She heaped shepherd’s pie on her plate. It was the sort of thing she could eat every meal, but it tasted particularly good that day as Professor McGonagall marched Snape out of the Great Hall.
Sarah watched the storm rage through her dormitory window. Everyone else had gone to watch the quidditch match, so she had the dormitory, and the whole of Hufflepuff Basement, to herself. She knew the other girls were squeamish about her leg, and somehow them refusing to look at it was as bad as people staring at it. Sarah was taking a break from her wooden leg. It needed to be cleaned fairly regularly, same with the big socks Madam Pomfrey had given her. The house-elves could do it, like they did with the rest of the cleaning, but Sarah preferred to do it herself. It was her leg, after all.
Her wooden leg was laid out next to her on her bed, while Sarah sat cross legged reading a book. Hedwig had flown from the Owlery and through the castle, and could peck the barrels in the right pattern to get into Hufflepuff Basement. People thought it was a neat trick, like Sarah had trained Hedwig to do it. Hedwig didn’t need training. She was smart on her own.
Despite ratting Snape out to Professor McGonagall, with the dim hope that he would get sacked for bullying a fellow professor if not his own students, there had been no word on rescinding the werewolf essay. It was two scrolls long, or about two pages. Twenty-four inches. Not very long, in Sarah’s opinion, but that was still two pages of listing ways in which to kill Professor Lupin.
Sarah was fairly certain Professor Lupin was a werewolf. She had found the recipe for the Wolfsbane Potion in a book called Moste Potente Potions, which had been a pain to get to since it was in the Restricted Section. It had all sorts of disgusting potions in it, like the Polyjuice Potion. Sarah was determined to keep better track of her hair, lest someone try to transform into her. Then they would be able to do whatever they wanted to her body, without even touching her directly. It was such a disturbing thought that, when Sarah had read the recipe and understood what polyjuice did, she had almost got caught by Mrs. Norris.
The Wolfsbane Potion was really advanced. Based on what Sarah knew about the ingredients, it was also very expensive to make. The picture in the book looked exactly like the potion Snape had given Professor Lupin, though not as chunky. She didn’t want to think about what those chunks were. Knowing Snape, he had likely spat into the potion before giving it to Professor Lupin, though even the smallest alteration to the recipe could have disastrous effects. It could make the transformation more painful, make the werewolf more aggressive, make them grow two heads, leave them permanently stuck with wolfish features.
Sarah thought the Laxative Potion, despite having the rather traumatizing effect of causing someone to eject their bowels through their arse, was among the most useful. She could use it on the entire Slytherin table if Draco Malfoy pretended to faint due to a dementor again, or hopped around on one leg to make fun of her.
Something scratched at the window. Sarah jerked, then grabbed her wand. She squinted at the window. Everything looked black and wet outside. She thought it must be night, given how dark and cold it had become. Shivering, Sarah went back to reading her book.
There was another scratch. Hedwig chirped, then flew over to the windowsill. Confused, Sarah grabbed a crutch and went over to investigate. She gasped when she saw two bright silver eyes blinking at her. She waved her arm frantically, trying to get Hedwig to fly away, but Hedwig only pecked at the latch to the window.
Lumos!
Sarah blinked against the light, holding her wand up to better see what was outside, what Hedwig was trying to let it. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw it was an animal. A very wet, very miserable looking dog.
Hedwig succeeded in pecking open the latch, and suddenly the dog was barging into Sarah’s dormitory, shaking like a leaf. The dog raced under her bed. Sarah sucked in a breath, not entirely sure what to do.
Her entire body went cold. Hedwig hooted worriedly. Rain was getting into the dormitory. Sarah turned slowly to face the window, grabbing the ledge so she could reach. She nearly let go when she saw a line of tall, black figures gliding across the grounds. Dozens of them, all moving towards the quidditch pitch.
Sarah seized the window and slammed it shut. She lost her one-handed grip on the ledge and fell painfully to the floor. Hedwig fluttered down to her and shook her feathers off. Something wet touched Sarah’s hand, and she shrieked. She scrambled away, pressing herself against the wall. It was just the dog, though, still wet and miserable. He was a huge black dog. With his fur wetted down, Sarah could see the dog’s bones sticking out.
There was something familiar about the dog. Sarah recognized the dog. It was the same dog who had saved her from Ripper.
This was a dog Sarah owed a favor. Ignoring the question of how the dog had got from Surrey to Hogwarts, Sarah cast a drying charm. The dog’s fur instantly steamed, and within seconds he was dry. The dog’s tongue lolled out happily, and Sarah smiled faintly. She was still nervous; the dog was massive, and she knew how desperate starved animals could be. She had once been a starved animal.
Sarah shuddered, then glanced at the window again. She cast a locking charm at it, though she doubted it would keep out dozens of dementors. Swallowing, she turned back to the dog, who was inching towards her on his belly.
Sarah cleared her throat.
“Are you hungry?” she whispered.
The dog stopped moving and gave her a stunned look. Sarah hadn’t known dogs could make an expression like that. After a moment, the dog nodded.
“Stay here,” she whispered, wincing at how creaky and tight her voice was. She picked her crutch off the floor and used the wall to help herself stand. Once she got her balance, Sarah headed to the kitchens.
Sarah knew a lot about dogs, purely out of self-preservation. Dogs were omnivorous and could eat almost anything. Chocolate and grapes and onions could all kill a dog. She had fantasized many times about feeding Ripper grapes. It couldn't be worse than all the brandy Aunt Marge had given him.
In the kitchens, she asked for meat and carrots and apples. The house-elves made a platter in record time. Sarah turned down their offer to carry it for her, levitating the platter herself. She didn’t want to get in trouble for letting a dog in.
Sarah gave the house-elves a note about the dementors. As far as she knew, all the professors were at the game, so she didn’t know who else to go to for help.
The dog was still in her dormitory when Sarah returned. She knew she would have to help get him back out the window, though he seemed to have made himself at home on her bed. Sarah scowled at that. Only she and Hedwig were allowed on her bed, and besides, she didn’t like dogs. This one gave her puppy eyes and whined.
He had killed Ripper and saved her life. Perhaps she could make an exception.
Sighing, Sarah set the platter of food on the floor, then made Hedwig’s water bowl bigger with a charm and set that on the floor too. The dog woofed happily, jumping off the bed and approaching the food. Sarah had seen Ripper eat, so she knew how messy dogs were. To her surprise, instead of gorging himself and knocking everything around, the dog sat down and took careful bites. Sarah had to use a charm to slice the apples and carrots up so they were easier for him to eat.
Once she was certain the dog wouldn’t misbehave, Sarah sat on her bed and opened up her book again. She trusted Hedwig to keep an eye on the strange animal in their dormitory. Hopefully Professor Lupin felt better soon. Sarah wanted to learn the Patronus Charm as soon as possible.
A cold nose pressed against her hand. Sarah woke up with a start. She yawned, then blinked at the dog sticking his nose in her face. Sarah pushed him away and sat up, wondering what time it was. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and had done so with her glasses on. The dormitory was pitch black. She got out of bed and looked around. She could just make out the sleeping forms of the other girls. The dog, who moved like a shadow, was standing on his hindlegs and pawing at the window. Hedwig had already got the latch undone.
Sarah rubbed her eyes, then pointed her wand at the window. It sprang open, and Hedwig flew outside. Sarah planned on levitating the dog, rather than lifting him up herself, but the dog jumped straight into the air and scrambled out on his own. Sarah was sleepily amused when the dog shut the window behind himself.
Too tired to process what was happening, Sarah silently locked the window again, put her glasses safely on the bedside table, and promptly went back to sleep.
The new gossip spreading throughout Hogwarts was about the dementors swarming the quidditch pitch. Sarah had sworn back in first year to never attend another quidditch game, and once again she had made the smart choice. People kept talking about how angry the headmaster had been, and how he had used a silver spell to drive the dementors away. Sarah had no idea where the dog had run off too, and hoped he was clever enough to stay away from dementors. As far as Sarah knew, dementors only ate human emotions and souls. Besides that, she suspected dogs did not have souls, Ripper being the case in point.
Snape was blessedly not in Sarah’s next Defense class. She was relieved to see Professor Lupin, though he did look like he had been ill. She hadn’t known how bad werewolf transformations were. It looked like Professor Lupin hadn’t eaten or slept for weeks. The books never mentioned things like that. They weren’t written by werewolves. They were written by people like Snape, who wanted to kill werewolves.
They had a proper class, learning about hinkypunks. Sarah already knew about them, like she knew about the other creatures they covered. She liked calling them will-o’-wisps instead. It sounded like willow. Sarah’s mum’s wand had been willow. That’s what Mr. Ollivander had told her. Good for charm work. Sarah had no idea what holly was good for. Hopefully something useful.
When class was over, and the will-o’-wisp squelched happily at the mouse it had been given to lure, Professor Lupin asked Sarah to stay after. He motioned for her to join him at his desk, and Sarah took a seat next to him.
“I heard about the quidditch match,” said Professor Lupin, sliding a parchment and quill towards Sarah.
I wasn’t there, she wrote.
Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows. “You don’t like quidditch?”
No. Are you a werewolf?
Professor Lupin made a choked noise.
Is it really bad? she wrote. Do people leave you alone?
“Yes and yes,” said Professor Lupin tiredly. “I strongly discourage whatever it is you’re thinking of. And I must also ask you to keep this to yourself.”
I’m not a git like Snape.
“Professor Snape,” corrected Professor Lupin. “Is that how you worked it out?”
And the potion. I looked up what it was.
Professor Lupin sighed. “This was not what I hoped to discuss. I am rather ill, and I don’t believe I’m up to teaching you how to cast the Patronus Charm quite yet.”
Sarah frowned, then wrote, Can’t you tell me the incantation and wand movement so I can practice on my own?
Professor Lupin smiled slightly. “I expected you would ask that. I’ve noticed you are rather…detached in class. I have acquired a book that goes into the theory of the Patronus Charm, one which has a home in the Restricted Section. Much like another book you may have recently read.”
Sarah kept her face blank, and Professor Lupin chuckled. He opened his briefcase, and handed Sarah a book with a worn, dark purple cover. Confronting the Faceless.
“This is a N.E.W.T. level Defense text,” said Professor Lupin. Sarah looked away from the cover and stared at him. “Read the section on the Patronus Charm, and after our next class I will walk you through the incantation and wand movement.”
Sarah gripped the book in her hands and nodded.
“I should have known it was you,” said Professor Babbling.
Sarah flinched, then backed away from the book she had been poking with her wand.
“You’re runes are drawn too accurately for a third-year,” said the normally frazzled teacher. “And you’re interested in bindrunes, which means you’ve been experimenting on your own.”
Sarah wasn’t sure where to look, or how to react. Professor Babbling was convinced of her own, albeit accurate, conclusion. Denying it wouldn’t work.
“This is not something I would introduce until fifth year,” said Professor Babbling, moving down the bookshelf and pulling out a book Sarah hadn't noticed. It was as thick as her leg. “But I know how I was at your age.”
Professor Babbling passed the massive tome to Sarah, who tried carrying it with one arm, then had to drop her crutches and use both arms before she collapsed under the book’s weight. Sarah glanced at the cover. The Binding of Runes.
She looked up quizzically.
“It has many exercises for students,” said Professor Babbling, walking to the blackboard. “The best place to start is at the beginning.”
Sarah nodded, then wobbled back to her desk.
“Think of a single, very happy memory,” said Professor Lupin.
Sarah closed her eyes, shutting out the empty Defense classroom. She had read about the Patronus Charm like Professor Lupin had told her to. She knew dementors fed on all positive emotions, leaving you with only bad ones. She knew that patronuses were made up of all of those positive things, and for that reason dementors could not hurt them. It was too concentrated, like how you needed water to survive, but with too much of it you would drown.
A single happy memory. The first time she had ridden a broom? She thought of flying with Hedwig, but it was tinged with bitterness as Sarah hadn’t flown a broom for months. She hadn’t even tried. Looking at pictures of her parents made her happy and sad at the same time. What would make her happy? For the dementors to go away and leave her alone? They made everything just a little bit worse.
“The incantation is expecto patronum,” said Professor Lupin. “Keep concentrating.”
Expecto patronum, Sarah thought. She tried to forget what Professor Lupin had said, that it might not be possible wordlessly. Expecto patronum.
Sarah nearly dropped her wand when a thin cloud of silvery mist came out. She looked at Professor Lupin, who smiled warmly.
“Well done,” he said. “Though it seems you need to work on your concentration.”
Sarah scowled and raised her wand again.
While everyone else was at another quidditch match, Sarah was busy drawing runes on the bottom of Hedwig’s water bowl. She wanted it to fill itself with water. It was one of the things in the book Professor Babbling had given her. Ur was for a big cow called an auroch, but aurochs were extinct, and they had fehu for cows besides. Ur was also for water. She could have just used that rune on the bowl, and it would fill with a touch. She could use a water conjuring charm for that same effect, so it was redundant. A water bowl refilling itself was much more interesting.
It was hard, because there weren’t numerals in runes. There were words for numbers, lots of them, but numbers didn’t have special symbols. And Sarah had to decide what would make it refill. When it was completely empty? When it dropped below a certain line?
There was a scratch at the window, and Sarah was unsurprised to see it was the dog again. She remembered something Aunt Petunia had said about the neighborhood cats. If you fed them once, they would keep coming back. Sarah had fed the dog once, and he kept coming back. She had no idea why, since Hagrid was around and would probably like a dog.
Sarah waved her wand at the window, and the dog scrambled into the dormitory. It was drizzling outside, so the dog was wet and muddy. Sarah carefully vanished it all, and the dog jumped for joy. Hedwig, who had been observing Sarah from her perch, flapped her wings a few times. The dog woofed at her, then plopped his head on Sarah’s bed and stared at the bowl she was holding.
She looked at the dog, then at the bowl, trying to understand what a dog would think. Bowls were things for food. The dog wanted food, as expected. Sighing, Sarah grabbed her crutches and made her way to the kitchens. She didn’t know if there was magical dog kibble, but she could send Hedwig off to Magical Menagerie and see what they had available.
When she returned with roast chickens, enough for her, Hedwig, and the dog, the dog was still looking at the bowl. Sarah took it away from him since she didn’t want the ink to get smeared. It had taken a long time to come up with a poem describing what she wanted to happen, a longer time to blend all the runes together, and longer still to write them in a spiral around ur. It was a lot of work, and Sarah would have to start all over again if the dog slobbered on it.
The dog gave her a guilty look, then began tearing strips off of a roast chicken. Sarah had noticed this dog was smarter than the others she had encountered. Ripper would have tried to swallow a chicken leg whole and ended up choking on a bone.
Sarah settled back on her bed. She pressed her wand to ur and thought about water.
Water surged out of the bowl, spilling all over her bed and the floor. The dog barked and leapt over, hitting the bowl with his nose. Sarah quickly flipped it so it was no longer upside down. She watched as cool, clear water filled the bowl. It stopped when it got to the brim.
Smiling, Sarah set the bowl next to Hedwig’s cage, gave the dog a pat for helping, and began drying the dormitory out.
A long line of students wrapped in scarves and heavy cloaks trekked across the snowy grounds, destined for Hogsmeade. Sarah watched from a window, waiting for the stragglers to finish vanishing into the flurry. She hopped down and headed for the entrance hall. It was empty when she reached it, Filch having stalked off to harass the first- and second-years left behind. The giant oak doors weren’t locked, though, and Sarah slipped outside. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and struck out for the quidditch pitch. She was determined to teach herself how to fly again.
Walking was getting easier and easier. Sarah wished she could feel the wooden leg, the same way she felt her right leg. It was a jarring dissonance, seeing something move the way she wanted it to but not being able to feel it. The less she actually thought about it, the easier it was.
Breaking into the broomshed was a joke. Sarah had done it back in first year. She rummaged through the ancient school brooms, and pulled out the best she could find. A Shooting Star, not that she cared about the model.
The snow was falling heavier, and the world was shrouded in white. Sarah smiled, knowing that no one up in the castle could see her. Just as she mounted the broom, a flash of movement caught her eye.
It was Hedwig, nearly invisible against all of the snow. Sarah held her arm out for Hedwig to land, and was surprised to see Hedwig had a note for her. Sarah carefully removed it from her beak, frowning at how stained and rumpled it was. The handwriting, however, looked like someone had spent quite a lot of time practicing. The kind of handwriting older people had. Sarah had also spent a lot of time making her joined-up letters look fancy.
Brushing a few snowflakes off, Sarah read the note.
There is a secret passage to Honeydukes behind the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor. Tap once with your wand, and say, Dissendium. Please bring food tomorrow.
Sarah looked at Hedwig, who chirped encouragingly. Sarah tucked the note away, then threw her arm out so Hedwig would take flight. She would look into the supposed secret passage later. Right then, she wanted to fly.
The increased scrutiny of Sarah had waned in the weeks since Halloween. It abruptly vanished when everyone went home the day after the Hogsmeade trip. All the students were too busy getting to the carriages, and the professors were busy overseeing it. Sarah went completely unnoticed under her invisibility cloak, sneaking up to the third floor. She knew about the one-eyed witch statue, having passed it many times. And the witch did look like she was hiding something.
Sarah looked around, relieved to see this stretch of corridor had no portraits, and that no ghosts were phasing in and out of walls. She tapped the statue’s hump and thought, Dissendium.
A hole appeared where the hump had been. Sarah peered into it, and saw that it was a stone slide. It seemed a stupid idea to trust a note from a stranger, but Sarah trusted Hedwig, and it was Hedwig who had brought her the note. Sarah scaled the statue and went into the hole feet first.
It was cold, dark, and damp when she landed. Sarah got her wand out and cool, blue light flooded the earthen tunnel. Sarah tucked her invisibility cloak in her bag and hoped the hole hadn’t closed up behind her.
The tunnel was tall enough for Sarah to stand, but rocky and narrow. Walking through it was unpleasant. There were loads of turns, the floor was hard and uneven, and the tunnel gradually rose. Sarah had left her crutches behind as they were a dead giveaway, though this meant she had to take multiple breaks.
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, until finally Sarah reached an old stone staircase. She peered into the darkness, wondering how far up it went. She sat down to rest for a bit. She had already gone through the entire tunnel, it would have been a waste of time to turn back. She wanted to see what was at the top of the stairs.
Sarah counted the steps as she walked, occasionally sitting down to give her leg a rest. There were hundreds of steps, and she had some unpleasant thoughts about whoever put her up to this. For all she knew, the stairs had been bewitched to never end. Sarah had no idea how long she had been in the tunnel. Hours, perhaps days.
She kept climbing.
The stairs did come to an end, though it took ages. Sarah was hot and sweaty and her leg hurt, and she was generally very upset about the entire situation. But she had reached a trap door. Her arms were shaking, so Sarah spelled it open, wincing when there was a loud thump. She ascended the remaining steps, remembered to put her invisibility cloak on again, and poked her head out.
It was a basement, dusty and filled with crates. Sarah climbed into it, then quietly shut the trap door. It disappeared against the floor, and Sarah stared at the spot until she was certain she could find it again. She looked around and saw another staircase, this one with its end in sight. Her footsteps were silent as she crossed the floor and mounted the wooden stairs. She carefully opened the door, and froze when she realized it was Honeydukes. The door was right behind the counter. There was a large, bald man busy restocking shelves, but the shop was otherwise empty. Sarah hurriedly shut the door and crept from behind the counter.
Honeydukes was overwhelming. Sarah had no idea where to look first, nor how she could purchase anything. She could leave coins on the counter, she supposed, poking a brick of nougat.
The man finished his restocking, then walked to the door and disappeared into the basement. Sarah decided it was a good opportunity for her to leave, and headed for the exit. A sign had been posted on the door, letting her know that dementors would be patrolling the streets after sunset. Shuddering, Sarah opened the door, grimaced when it set off a bell, then went outside.
The snow had stopped overnight, leaving the entire world frosted. Hogsmeade was a quaint, picturesque village, but Sarah hardly got a chance to look at it. There was a soft hoot, and Sarah found Hedwig perched on a building opposite her. Hedwig hooted again, then flew to another building. Curious, Sarah followed her, weaving through the streets and alleys of Hogsmeade, towards the outskirts of the village. Sarah ended up on a snowy, winding lane, trailing after Hedwig as she flew towards the foothills.
Sarah followed Hedwig around a turn and came to a stop. At the end of the lane, his big paws braced on an old wooden stile, was the dog. Hedwig landed on the post next to him, looking at Sarah expectantly.
More confused than ever, Sarah pulled off her invisibility cloak and walked up to the stile. The dog stared at her, then barked and ran around a circle. Sarah rolled her eyes and climbed over the stile. She was thoroughly sick of stairs. She glared at Hedwig, who took flight rather than explain herself. Sarah got out her wand as she followed the dog, scanning the countryside for dementors, or other creatures.
It was a long, cold, rocky trail the dog followed, and by the time they reached a cave Sarah was angry and ready to collapse.
The dog had slipped into a narrow, jagged fissure in the side of the mountain, and Hedwig flew right in after him. Sarah gripped her wand tightly. Someone had written that note and given it to Hedwig. The dog’s owner? But Hedwig had flown into the cave, so it must be safe. Unless someone had cursed Hedwig, in which case Sarah had to save her owl. Either way, she was going into that cave.
Sarah squeezed through the fissure, popping out into a dim cave that was only slightly warmer than outside. The cave floor was strewn with old copies of the Daily Prophet. There was a pile of rags to one side. At the end of the cave was a large rock. Hedwig sat on top of it. Next to the rock was the black dog. Sarah looked around, her confusion and anxiety increasing. Who had sent the note?
Hedwig gave a series of excited chirps, and Sarah looked just in time to see the dog turn into a man.
Sarah took a step back and pointed her wand at him. He was a tall, gaunt man, with deep set silver eyes and long, matted black hair. He was wearing filthy grey robes. Hedwig flew down and landed on the man’s shoulder. Sarah’s heart thumped painfully.
The dog was an animagus. A wizard. He had been in her dormitory. On her bed. And he had Hedwig.
“Hello, Sarah,” the man said in a quiet, hoarse voice. It reminded Sarah of how she sounded when she hadn’t spoken for months. The man raised his hands to show her they were empty.
“My name is Sirius Black,” he said, watching her carefully. “I’m your godfather.”