Sarah's Friend
The stupid map wouldn’t work nonverbally.
Sarah glared at the thing, once again wondering if her father had been a complete and total idiot. According to Sirius, they used it to sneak around Hogwarts. What was the point of announcing your intentions every time you wanted to use your secret map? She was only glad Fred and George Weasley hadn’t understood that, and that they hadn’t waited for her to test it out in front of them.
As it was, she had hidden herself in a broom cupboard and cast the strongest silencing charm she could, all just so she could mutter at an old piece of parchment.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she said through gritted teeth.
The Marauder’s Map, whatever its other flaws—and Sarah was going to fix that if it was the last thing she did—functioned as advertised. The map blossomed with everything she could ever possibly want to know about the architecture of Hogwarts and the movements of its inhabitants.
After receiving the map, and getting over the fact it wasn’t destroyed and her immense good fortune at it being hand delivered to her, Sarah had spent some time examining it in the privacy of her bed. Dumbledore, pacing in his office. Snape, pacing in his office. Professor Sprout, pacing in her greenhouses. Her professors did a lot of pacing. More interestingly there were loads of secret passages, many to Hogsmeade, though the one behind the statue of the one-eyed witch was the best of the lot.
Sarah zeroed in on a certain corridor, smiling viciously when she saw three dots approaching the library.
Checking to make sure no one was around her immediate vicinity, Sarah whispered, “Mischief managed,” wiping the map clean. She carefully folded it and put it inside her robes. Sarah kept the Marauder’s Map on her at all times, like her invisibility cloak. She was determined to find a way to do the same for her flying carpet, but the last object she attempted an extension charm on exploded.
Once she was composed, Sarah dispelled the silencing charm and left the broom cupboard. She knew several people were looking for her, most assiduous among them a certain Head Boy and his rat-loving little brother.
From the way Dumbledore’s eyes had sparkled at her, Sarah believed the old man expected her to sneak into the library. Perhaps her various bannings had been solely for Snape’s benefit, but it still stung. The foul man had touched her. She should have kicked him in the happy sacks for that.
Being barred from the library was the most idiotic thing in existence, but Sarah was going to use it to her advantage.
Sarah walked down the corridor and rounded a corner. As expected, Head Boy Percy Weasley and the rat-bearer, Ron Weasley, were nearing the library.
Observing the habits of the common Hogwarts resident was not all Sarah had done with the Marauder’s Map. The first thing, the most important thing, she had done was confirm Sirius’ story.
Somewhere, hidden in Ron Weasley’s robes, was Peter Pettigrew.
The Head Boy spotted her first.
“Potter,” said Percy, sounding relieved. “There you are.”
Ron stopped walking and went red as a tomato. Sarah ignored him, nodding politely to Percy instead.
“What are you doing near the library?” asked Percy, walking closer. “Where are your crutches? Do you require any assistance?”
The onslaught of words was annoying, but from her limited experience Sarah understood that Percy liked to talk. At length.
Sarah ignored the first two questions—she was obviously near the library because she wanted a book, and she was trying to stop relying on her crutches so much. It was difficult, not only because of the lack of additional support, but also because the crutches were handy weapons. Theoretically, she could have cracked Snape across the face with one. While Sarah had been wary of Snape since first year, lately she just wanted to hurt him.
If you hurt someone enough, they stopped hurting you back. Unless they were morons, like the Dursleys. Snape, Sarah feared, was a moron.
Since the Head Boy required a response or he would not leave her alone, Sarah nodded and reached into her robes. She knew she was meant to ask Madam Pince or someone from her house to help get library books, probably in some misguided attempt to coerce her into working with others, but Sarah had other ideas. Her invisibility cloak was her primary means of infiltrating the library, and coupled with the Marauder’s Map there was no chance in hell of being caught, even in broad daylight. But Sarah had landed on another solution, one that aligned with her goal of capturing Peter Pettigrew.
While Sirius would have lunged at Ron and taken the rat from him, possibly killing Pettigrew in the process, Sarah kept a tight leash on her fury. What she needed was a way to contain him that meant he stayed caught. A small cage for a rat wouldn’t work, he could turn into a human again and bust out of it, and Sarah didn’t know how to reinforce something like that so Pettigrew would crush himself to death instead. Similarly, ropes and chains would break, or if tied up as a human Pettigrew could simply turn into a rat and scuttle away like the base, traitorous, piece of shit coward he was.
Sarah pulled out a slip of paper on which she had written the titles of several books. The Head Boy’s eye lit up, and he reached eagerly for the paper. Sarah ignored him, and practically crammed the paper in Ron’s mouth.
Ron turned a painful-looking shade of red and crossed his eyes trying to look at the paper.
“What,” stuttered Ron. “What’s that?”
Percy cleared his throat. Sarah didn’t like his smug look. If those twins had told him anything…
“I believe Potter wishes for you to acquire several tomes for her perusal,” said Percy in grandiose tones.
Sarah rolled her eyes, and shook the paper a little. Ron’s eyes flew open, and he made a grab for the paper. Sarah pulled her fingers away before he could touch her, then watched Ron sprint into the library.
That left her in the corridor with the Head Boy.
Sarah got out her wand.
“No magic in the corridors,” said Percy.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. Percy’s ears began turning red, and he cleared his throat again.
“I best go see how Ron’s doing,” he said, straightening his Head Boy badge. “I doubt he’s been in the library all year…”
Sarah watched the older boy scurry into the library, then leaned against a wall to wait. Phase one-and-a-half was underway.
“Sarah, could I have a word?”
Sarah continued putting her things away. Lupin could have all the bloody words he wanted, but he wasn’t getting a single one from her. Her minder was already in the corridor, waiting to chivvy her to the Great Hall for lunch. Sarah had a plan to deal with that too, but she was waiting for Ron to stop pissing himself every time they interacted. Her expectations were so low as to be nonexistent. At this rate, when she asked for his rat Ron would end up accidentally drop kicking the bastard out of a window.
“Sarah?”
Sarah gave Lupin a blank look. What could he possibly want with her? Her classmates were shuffling out, some casting curious looks at her. Of course they were still talking about her fight with Snape. Lupin probably wanted to talk about that too. Everything there was to say about it had already been said. She didn’t need or want any more chastisement.
Still, directly disobeying a teaching would only get her in more trouble, so Sarah stayed in her seat while everyone else left. Once the room was empty, Lupin spoke again. He was standing in front of her table, looking very tired and contrite.
“I’m sorry,” said Lupin, startling her. “I know I promised to teach you the Patronus Charm, and I meant to do so as soon as school resumed.”
Sarah wanted to know why he hadn’t, but not enough to ask. Even if he was a werewolf, a coward, and a liar by omission, Lupin would have been better to live with than the Dursleys. Even if Sarah knew Dumbledore would have still forced her on them, Lupin had been friends with her parents. He could have tried. He wouldn’t have hit her, or starved her, or made her do chores all day.
Sirius had lost his mind and wound up in Azkaban. Tortured for twelve years. Hunted, starved, injured, he had journeyed for days on foot just to see her. Just to make sure she was safe.
Where the fuck had Lupin been?
Sarah shook her head.
Lupin furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
It was obvious what Sarah meant. She stood and walked away from her desk.
“Sarah?”
She didn’t want anything from Lupin. Not now, not ever.
Another quidditch game was coming up, and Sarah had strategically placed herself in a window reading nook along the route the Gryffindor team took back to their common room. Ron was with them again, with his twin brothers. Was he on the team? Sarah had no idea.
Sarah turned a page, chewing thoughtfully on one of her plaits. She needed Ron to trust her. More importantly, she needed the rat to trust her so he didn’t try to run. Hedwig had appeared one evening bearing a piece of newspaper imprinted with a muddy paw print, so Sarah knew Sirius hadn’t got hit by a car or anything. Having Sarah on his side seemed to have stayed his hand. Paw. Whatever. Hedwig was back from delivering the food Sarah had managed to nick from the Hufflepuff table throughout the day. While she was barred from the kitchens, no one had said she couldn’t take food from the Great Hall.
Turning another page, Sarah kept her eyes on the book. It was the same one Professor Babbling had lended her, The Binding of Runes. It wasn’t literally about runes used for binding things, which would have been useful with Pettigrew, but about binding runes together, linking them to form a single rune greater than its parts.
Despite Professor Babbling’s claim that the text was for students, it twisted Sarah’s mind around in strange ways.
Hedwig gently hooted, then flew out of the open window. Sarah was glad for the warning. Obsessively checking the Marauder’s Map was both exhausting and risky. She tugged her plait from her mouth and wiped it off on her robes. The books she had consulted thus far had little by the way of trapping someone who could change their shape. Stunning or using other spells to immobilize Pettigrew were possibilities, but Sarah was worried the body of an old rat wouldn’t be able to handle it. It would risk killing Pettigrew.
Killing a dragon had been bad enough, but killing a person? At school? With witnesses? What if he turned into a person when he died?
Frustrated, Sarah turned another page. Her fingers stilled.
Lupin knew Peter Pettigrew was a rat animagus.
For a moment, Sarah was so furious she couldn’t think straight.
Lupin, like everyone else, believed Pettigrew was dead. Even if he hadn’t, Ron Weasley wasn’t the only person in the world with a pet rat.
Lupin also believed Sirius was trying to kill her, and he hadn’t said jack shit about Sirius being an animagus. Even though Sirius was innocent, it was another strike against Lupin.
Sarah already knew Lupin didn’t care about her. No one did. Why did it hurt so much?
“Potter!”
Sarah flinched, and looked up at the muddy quidditch team trooping towards her. It had been one of the Weasley twins who called out, Fred she thought. Both of them were waving at her, while the rest of the team gawked. Only the captain hadn’t noticed, busily discussing something with Ron.
Ron, who crashed into a statue as soon as he heard her name. The girls on the team started giggling. There was another third-year boy Sarah recognized from Herbology, Seamus something-or-other, who was staring at her with a dumb expression. This attention made Sarah briefly reconsider her plan, but however uncomfortable she was paled in comparison to her parents being dead.
“What are you doing on this fine evening?” asked Fred, dripping mud all over the place. George had pulled Ron away from their captain and was whispering urgently in his ear, Ron turning redder and redder as he shot Sarah nervous looks.
Sarah went back to reading. There was a section on Gubraithian Fire, or Everlasting Fire, a branch enchanted to burn forever. The book didn’t actually explain how to do it, the enchantment was far too complex, and the book said only the most powerful witches and wizards were capable of it. Instead, Gubraithian Fire was given as an example of how powerful bindrunes could be when incorporated into an inscription. The magic could become self-perpetuating.
Someone cleared their throat, and Sarah looked up again to see the quidditch team had moved on, leaving a trail of mud in their wake. Quidditch was played on brooms. How did they get so dirty?
Ron was standing much closer to her, and was clearly unsure about it. Sarah looked at him. There was nothing about her next plan that was appealing, but Ron liked quidditch. Having Ron fetch her library books for the rest of the year wasn’t going to cut it. Sarah would need to spend time with the boy, have a conversation.
Go to a quidditch match.
“Um,” began Ron. “Are you going to the match on Saturday?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Oh,” said Ron, deflating. “I was going to… I mean, if you want to. You’re… uh…”
Sarah gave him a flat look.
“Do you want to go with me?” blurted Ron.
Sarah stared at him for a bit longer, nodded, then went back to reading. Ron, for his part, fainted.
Sarah gazed longingly at the ceiling. It was a cool, clear day, perfect weather for flying. Instead she would be going to a quidditch game, watching other people fly.
“Is it true?” whispered Hannah.
Sarah looked away from the bewitched ceiling.
“Neville says you’re going to the quidditch match with Ron Weasley,” said Hannah, her eyes darting to the Gryffindor table. Sarah looked too, noted that Ron was shellshocked, then looked away.
She reluctantly nodded.
“Sarah!” exclaimed Susan. “It’s Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!”
Sarah blinked a few times. She could have sworn it was Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor. It was at this moment Sarah wished she had gone with her plan of breaking into Gryffindor Tower and kidnapping the rat. Everyone paid attention to her all the time. It was impossible to interact with someone new without the entire school knowing within the hour. That it was a boy in another house made it all the worse.
“What are you going to do?” asked Hannah.
Sarah shrugged. She was going to do what she planned. Go to the quidditch game with the boy who was keeping the man who betrayed her parents as a pet.
“I can’t believe you’re going to a quidditch game,” said Susan. “You don’t even like quidditch!”
Sarah nibbled on a piece of toast while the people around her expressed their opinions on her going to a quidditch match, going to a quidditch match with a boy, going to a quidditch match with a boy from a rival house.
“Why would you want to go with a Weasley, anyway?” asked Zacharias Smith. “Everyone knows the Weasleys have more children than they can afford, and less sense than money. It’s shameful for a pureblood family to—”
Sarah picked up her tea and threw it in his face. The cup smacked Zach right in the forehead, and he cried out in pain.
“Potter! Ten points!”
Sarah clenched her teeth. This was one reason why she hated eating in the Great Hall. Someone always said something stupid.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Ernie. Sarah was surprised he was addressing Zach.
“What’s wrong with her?” demanded Zach. “She’s the one attacking me like a—”
“Only because she can’t tell you to shut up!”
Sarah took out her wand.
“What are you doing with that?”
“Great, Smith, now look what you’ve done!”
Sarah pointed her wand at Zach. She was sick of him needling and complaining and generally being a prat.
“I think she’s challenging you to a duel,” said Justin, sounding faintly impressed.
“A duel?” Zach leaned back. “I don’t want to duel her!”
“Then you should have kept your opinion to yourself,” said Susan.
“I take it back! I take it back!”
Sarah slowly put her wand away, then stood and left the table. It was already a bad day with having to go to a quidditch match. Why was everything so bloody complicated?
Hurried footsteps followed Sarah out of the hall, and she spun around with her wand drawn. It was only Ron, who for some unfathomable reason was running after her.
“I saw you leaving,” said Ron, blushing as red as his hair. “Um, I forgot we were playing Hufflepuff. You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want…”
Sarah looked around him into the Great Hall, and saw that people were watching their interaction intently. She hadn’t seen so much of a whisker of Pettigrew lately, though she knew he was riding around with Ron. She couldn’t exactly reach into Ron’s robes and pull him out, and she still didn’t know a way of securing an animagus. There was something she had read about, an Unbreakable Charm, but she hadn’t found the incantation yet. At this point, Sarah didn’t care if Pettigrew killed himself while trying to escape. He deserved whatever horrible thing happened to him.
Ron was starting to fidget, so Sarah took out her wand and wrote a quick message midair.
I’m going
Ron perked up. “Really? That’s…that’s brilliant! Uh, where do you want to sit? With Gryffindor?”
Sarah shook her head, then waved the words out of the air. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would sit in the Gryffindor stands.
“Then, Hufflepuff?” asked Ron.
Sarah quietly sighed, then nodded.
“That’s the jumper my mum sent, yeah?” he abruptly asked.
Sarah nodded. She had worn the snowy owl jumper for that reason. It was a lovely jumper, and she quite liked it, but the point was that Ron would appreciate it.
“Do you like it?” asked Ron.
Sarah nodded again.
“Mum’ll be thrilled!”
People began to leave the Great Hall. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff quidditch teams. Fred and George were nudging each other and grinning at Ron, who seemed to shrink in on himself at the attention.
The Hufflepuff captain, an older boy named Cedric Diggory who people talked about incessantly—mostly girls, including Hannah and Susan to Sarah’s unending agony—gave her a curious look. Then he smiled, and led the rest of the team away. Sarah started after them so she could choose a seat before the stands filled up. She was getting better at walking without her crutches, and set a decent pace across the grounds.
“Do you…”
Sarah glanced at Ron, who was walking slightly behind her. She stopped for him to catch up. While she wasn’t keen on walking next to a boy, she was less keen on one walking right behind her.
“Uh, Diggory…”
Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out some pieces of paper. Coming up with questions to ask Ron Weasley had been time-consuming. She passed one to Ron, and he fumbled while trying to take it.
“What do I talk to the Gryffindor captain about?” he read. “You mean Oliver? He’s graduating this year, and I was thinking of joining the team. As a keeper? You know Seamus is the seeker, we couldn’t really find anyone good enough…”
Sarah half-listened to Ron rambling as they walked to the quidditch pitch. The entire time, her thoughts were on the rat sleeping in his pocket.
The next Herbology lesson was more successful. In an unusually bold move, Sarah positioned herself where the Gryffindors worked. Neville Longbottom cracked his head against a hanging planter and passed out. Ron Weasley was poleaxed. Everyone kept looking at her and Ron, whispering and giggling. Sarah hated every moment of it.
Ron finally made it to a work table, taking a spot next to Sarah. Sarah kept her eyes fixed on him the whole time.
“What are you…” began Ron.
Sarah looked away from the lump in Ron’s robes and into his blushing face.
“That’s Scabbers,” said Ron, placing a hand over the lump. “My rat. He’s been ill lately…”
The lump began moving. Sarah slowly breathed through her nose.
“Do you want to meet him?” asked Ron, sounding unhappy at the prospect.
Sarah glanced at him and nodded.
“Alright,” said Ron uncertainly, reaching into his robes.
Sarah tried her best to control herself. She was in class. Punching a boy so hard that it crushed his pet rat’s skull wasn’t an option. Even worse if the rat turned into a man who was meant to have died a decade earlier.
Ron pulled out ‘Scabbers.’ He looked like shit. The rat was emaciated, had a ragged ear, drooping whiskers, and had lost large clumps of fur. It was a piteous sight, and Sarah reminded herself that it was not actually a rat. It was a man who had sold out her parents to Voldemort, who had let someone else take the fall.
She glanced at his left paw, which was missing a toe.
The rat was looking at her.
Sarah did the hardest thing she had ever done. She smiled.
At times, Sarah questioned herself.
When Ron called out to her in the corridors.
When she found him feeding Hedwig owl treats.
When he invited her to work with him and Neville in Herbology again.
The delight on his face when she showed him the kitchens.
When he hexed Malfoy and made him vomit slugs.
She didn’t want to be friends with Ron Weasley. She noticed the approving looks from Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall, Lupin and Dumbledore. How Snape grew more snappish and irritable. How Ron’s brothers teased him. She remembered how Ron had bullied Hermione Granger. How he pointed at her chest and asked to see her scar. How his sister was dead.
Then she would climb into her bed, huddle under her invisibility cloak, and see Peter Pettigrew’s name. Her parents were dead. Her godfather had suffered for her entire life. She remembered how trapped she felt in her life, by the world.
Sirius offered Sarah what no one else ever had. Freedom from the Dursleys. If one boy’s feelings got hurt in the process, so be it. It was for a worthy cause.
A week after the quidditch game a poster went up in the common room. Another Hogsmeade weekend.
Ron had been very depressed after Hufflepuff defeated Gryffindor, compounded by sitting in the Hufflepuff stands and being trapped by their celebrations, but seemed cheered by Sarah’s complete disinterest in the outcome.
As the other Hufflepuffs chatted excitedly around her, Sarah began to plot.
“It’s a shame you’re banned from Hogsmeade,” said Ron, handing Sarah a book he had checked out for her. “We could have gone together. It’s brilliant!”
After a few weeks of intermittent exposure, Ron was capable of stringing together a sentence. Sarah’s stomach twisted in discomfort. People like Hannah and Susan understood she wanted to be left alone, and that she wasn’t interested in spending time with them. That no one thought it was odd that she was purposefully seeking out someone made Sarah somewhat indignant. Even Professor Sprout was saying things like Sarah was at that age, whatever that meant. It’s like they didn’t know her at all, which was frustrating, but also exactly how Sarah liked it.
It was confusing.
Sarah fished a note from her robes and passed it to Ron, who took it eagerly.
“What?” exclaimed Ron. “What do you mean you—”
Exasperated, Sarah flicked her wand at him. Ron’s mouth immediately snapped shut, and he gave her an alarmed look. Sarah summoned the note to herself and set it on fire. When it looked like Ron wasn’t going to shout to the whole castle that she could sneak out and go to Hogsmeade, Sarah removed the silencing charm.
“Bloody hell,” muttered Ron, rubbing his face. “But, won’t you be recognized?”
Bracing herself, Sarah removed her glasses.
Ron gasped.
Sarah put her glasses back on.
“You looked completely different!”
Sarah rolled her eyes, turned, and began walking towards her common room. Ron trailed after her.
“But how are you going to do it?” he asked. “What about the…” He lowered his voice. “The dementors?”
Sarah shook her head.
“You don’t care about them?”
She shook her head again. After two months of practice, the mist she had creature had gradually grown more solid. From her reading, Sarah knew the most powerful patronus was a corporeal one, when it took the form of an animal. Hers was more of an amorphous blob, but it was enough to keep a dementor at bay. And they were after Sirius, not her.
“So,” said Ron, keeping pace with her. “You want to meet at Honeydukes?”
Sarah nodded.
“Great,” said Ron breathlessly. “That’s great! I want to get Scabbers some Fudge Flies. It’s his favorite!”
Sarah pulled another piece of paper from her pocket. Ron took her, his eyes darting across the page.
“You want me to bring—”
Sarah silenced Ron again, and quickly wrote into the air. It’s a surprise.
Ron beamed at her.
Her and Sirius had it all worked out. If she got ‘Scabbers’ out of the castle, Sirius could do the rest. He had assured Sarah he knew how to charm things unbreakable, and while Sarah worried Sirius would kill Pettigrew as soon as he laid eyes on him, she didn’t think she could wait much longer. Sirius had broken out of Azkaban months prior, and each day the risk he would get caught, that Pettigrew would flee, grew.
“Got it,” said Ron with a fond smile. “Uh, did you want to come with me to watch our team practice?”
Sarah fled into the basement.
Getting through the secret tunnel behind the one-eyed witch was as awful as the first time. Though it was marginally warmer, and Sarah’s gait with her prosthesis was much improved, it was still a rocky, twisty, cramped tunnel. The stairs were a nightmare.
Sarah stopped just below the trap door and sat on the stairs, breathing unevenly. She massaged her thigh, thinking. Having her glasses off the entire time was not a real option, she could scarcely see without them. The invisibility cloak was out too, as she didn’t want to tell Ron about it and didn’t know any spells to make herself invisible. Polyjuice was out of the question; it took a month to brew, and the idea of transforming into another person was repulsive. What if she had to use the toilet?
Begrudgingly, Sarah took out her wand, put the tip to her hair, and murmured a charm. She watched unhappily as her black hair turned a brassy shade of blonde, so different from her natural color that no one would look at her and think Sarah Potter. She put her wand away, slipped her glasses into a pocket, pushed up the trap door, and snuck into Honeydukes.
Once Sarah got past the counter and squeezed through the crowd, she found Ron waiting nervously by a display of Fudge Flies. There was movement in his robes. Obviously ‘Scabbers’ realized he was outside of the castle. Outside of its protection.
“Whoa!” said Ron, visibly startled. “I didn’t recognize you!”
Sarah gave him a flat look. That was the point.
Ron shuffled. “I don’t know about this. Scabbers doesn’t seem happy.”
Sarah gestured at the Fudge Flies.
“Right,” said Ron, rallying. “Reckon I should buy those. That’ll cheer him up! Um, do you want to look around?”
Sarah did not want to look around. She wanted to rendezvous with Sirius and get this over with. The shop was crowded, she could smell what Ron had for breakfast, and she was both exhausted and on edge. Still, Ron was excited to show her around Honeydukes, pointing out all the sweets he liked, trying free samples, and generally having fun.
To Sarah’s dismay, the shop was well-stocked for Valentine's Day. Love hearts and conversation lozenges chirped their flirtatious messages Bouncing strawberry bonbons, heart-shaped chocolates, chocolate dipped strawberries, a gummy shaped like an anatomically-correct heart that Sarah was tempted to buy.
Ron offered to buy her something, but Sarah turned him down. She knew the Weasleys were poor. She did write a quick excuse to soften the refusal.
“You’re looking forward to Pancake Day more?” asked Ron. “Me too!”
Ron bought his Fudge Flies and coaxed ‘Scabbers’ into eating one. He asked Sarah if she wanted to give him one, which was taking things too far in her book. She was not going to hand feed Peter fucking Pettigrew, unless it was a poison.
Once they had escaped from Honeydukes, Sarah put her glasses back on. Ron was chattering about all the places they could go. Heading right for her destination might have tipped Pettigrew off, so Sarah trailed Ron around Hogsmeade. Dervish and Banges, Zonko’s Joke Shop, the owl post office. Sarah spotted movement in an alley, a black tail vanishing around a building. Hogsmeade was swarmed with Hogwarts students, and no one gave two third-years a second look. Sarah did put her hood up when the charm on her hair started fading, but by that point she had managed to convey her interest in the Shrieking Shack. Ron tripped over himself in his haste to show her the way.
Sarah knew this would be the trickiest part. She kept her eyes on the road leading out of Hogsmeade, up the hill to where the Shrieking Shack loomed over the rest of the village. The path was slick with mud, and more treacherous to walk than Sarah had anticipated.
“Nearly Headless Nick says all the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,” said Ron, shortening his stride so that he didn’t outstrip Sarah. Sarah rarely walked alongside anyone, but recognized it as a thoughtful gesture. Ron was much taller than her, and had both of his legs. He was the faster walker. “Both Fred and George have tried to break in, but all the entrances are sealed…”
Sarah nodded along as they crested the hill, then stopped walking.
Draco Malfoy was walking up the other side of the hill.
“What’s he doing here?” muttered Ron.
Sarah had no idea, and she didn’t care. The fact of the matter was, things were going to start happening very soon, and she could not afford any witnesses.
She took out her wand.
“Sarah?” asked Ron. “What are you—”
Stupefy! she thought. Stupefy! Stupefy!
Red lights streaked towards the three Slytherin boys, slamming into each of them. Draco Malfoy was the first to fall, face down in the mud. The other boys, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, toppled over and landed next to him.
“Bloody hell!” said Ron.
Sarah kept her wand out and continued walking towards the Shrieking Shack. Ron wasn’t entirely correct that there was no way in. There was a tunnel under the Whomping Willow, but she hadn’t wanted to tell Ron that, or lure him into exploring it. The doors and windows had been spelled fast to keep Lupin in when he was a student, during his werewolf transformation, but those spells had been cast nearly twenty years prior, and Sarah had a particular interest in unlocking charms.
It took a moment for Ron to get over the shock of her having attacked three fellow students.
“What spell was that?” he asked. “Should we, you know, roll them over?”
Sarah pushed her hood back and glanced at the three boys. She shrugged, but it would be bad if the three idiots suffocated. She didn’t want to touch them, so Ron did the heavy lifting. As he rolled the boys over, Sarah examined the Shrieking Shack.
For the most haunted building in Britain, it didn’t look like much. The windows were all boarded up, and the garden was badly overgrown.
Sarah opened the rusty gate.
“What are you doing now?” asked Ron nervously.
Sarah gestured to the house.
“Don’t tell me,” said Ron, looking pale. “You want to go in there?”
Sarah nodded.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Ron, eyeing the three unconscious boys. “Maybe we should go back.”
Sarah shook her head and kept walking, kicking her way through the garden.
“Wait!”
Sarah hid a smile. Ron was a Gryffindor, and they were all supposed to be brave. Foolishly brave. Moreover, he was a boy, and a boy who fancied her. There was no chance Ron was letting a crippled girl break into the Shrieking Shack alone, or letting a Hufflepuff show more courage than him. Sarah was counting on that chivalrousness, and Ron did not disappoint. He summoned whatever courage he had and followed her.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” said Ron. “And it’s haunted.”
Sarah knew it wasn’t really haunted, but she couldn’t tell Ron that. Hogwarts itself was haunted, and no one had a problem with that. Ghosts were common enough. Why any witch or wizard was put off by a haunted house was beyond her.
Circling around the house, Sarah found the door Sirius described in a letter. It was a servants’ entrance, and not as thoroughly boarded up as the front door. Sarah pressed her want to the knob.
Aperio!
The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Ron gave her a stunned look. Sarah smiled faintly, then walked inside.
The inside of the Shrieking Shack was more dismal than out. It was filled with broken furniture, dust, peeling wallpaper, and many mysterious stains. She nudged a broken chair leg with her foot.
“Not much to look out,” said Ron in a shaky voice. “My house has a ghoul in it. Do you think there’s a ghoul here?”
Sarah knew there was nothing here. She gripped her wand.
A door slammed shut.
Ron jumped a foot in the air. “What was that?”
Sarah raised her wand, and Ron scrambled to get his own out. She had seen it a few times, and knew that it wasn’t really his wand. It had been passed down to him from an older brother, and had unicorn hair poking out of it.
“Who’s there?” called out Ron, spinning around. Sarah quietly sighed. If it was someone or something dangerous, they would know exactly where they were.
Sirius stepped around a corner, and Ron screamed.
“Hello, Sarah,” said Sirius in a gravelly voice.
The lump in Ron’s pocket began moving.
She did feel bad about this next part.
Stupefy!
Ron’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began to fall backwards.
Sirius hurried forward and caught Ron before he hit the floor, then snatched the rat trying to flee his robes.
“Don’t kill him,” said Sarah urgently
“I know,” said Sirius, holding the struggling rat in one hand and Ron’s wand in the other. “I couldn’t find a cage, but I can immobilize him, even as a—”
There was the horrible sound of bones snapping, and Sirius cried out. Sarah stepped back. The rat was gone, and in shifting back to human Peter Pettigrew had broken Sirius’ hand. There was hardly time to react. Pettigrew lunged at her, his filthy hands reaching for her wand.
“No!” shouted Sirius.
Protego! Sarah thought wildly, just as Sirius bellowed, “Avada kedavra!”
A horrid green light filled the room, striking Pettigrew just as he slammed into Sarah’s shield. Sarah shuddered, backing away until she hit a wall.
Sirius was breathing heavily, a mad light in his eyes, Ron Weasley’s wand still pointed at Pettigrew’s body.
Sarah was too shocked to think. It had all happened so fast. One second they were going to trap Pettigrew, the next he was dead.
“That’s it,” said Sirius, dropping his arm. His other hand was broken and bloody. “Fuck. Sarah, I’m…”
Sarah shook her head, and tears began filling her eyes. Pettigrew was dead. Now the truth couldn’t be forced out of him. Sirius was a murderer. Ron Weasley was unconscious, there was a dead person, Sirius was…
Sarah took a deep breath, then blinked her tears away.
“You need to go,” she said quietly. “You’ve got a wand now. He’s dead. Mission accomplished.” She sniffed. “This means we can’t live together, right?”
“I’ll make it happen,” said Sirius, his voice curiously even. “I promise. I… Maybe this is enough to get my name cleared.”
Sarah said nothing. Sirius had used an Unforgivable Curse. He had killed the same person he had been imprisoned for. She…she had no idea what to do.
She had to think. Pettigrew was dead. If they didn't act quick, it could be Sirius next. He had a wand. He was already on the run.
Pettigrew was dead.
Sirius had to run.
“Knock me out,” whispered Sarah.
“What?”
“Stun me,” she said, looking up at Sirius. “You attacked the three boys outside, then me and Ron, took his wand, killed Peter Pettigrew, then fled.” She closed her eyes. “You need to hurry. Before the dementors come.”
It took some more convincing, but Sirius finally agreed to her idea. There was an order for the dementors to Kiss him on sight. Sarah couldn’t think of anything else to do, and she didn’t want Sirius to go to Azkaban again.
Before the red light took her, Sarah heard two words.
“I’m sorry.”