Chapter 3
In a split second, right as the wolf lunged forward Padfoot collided with its stomach. The two wrestled on the floor, and to Sirius’ surprise the wolf seemed hesitant to harm him. Even so, its desire for the human prevailed and it threw him from its back. He scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his spine. He heard the person run up the stairs, but the wolf was almost to the first step. It seemed unlikely that the rickety staircase would support the werewolf’s weight, but it wasn’t a chance that Sirius wanted to take.
As he neared where their guest had first been, he recognized the scent. Well, it was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. Either way, that meant he knew whoever it was upstairs, and he couldn’t let Moony hurt any of their friends. He was at a disadvantage, though, for the stairs had held and the wolf was halfway to the top.
There was no chance that he would be quick enough to catch up with it. He decided to take the risk and transform back into his human self—he could do more as a wizard than as a dog, but he put himself in much more danger. Nevertheless, Sirius covered the stairs with a thick layer of ice. Still the wolf climbed.
The slippery staircase slowed the beast only slightly, but Sirius was right behind it. They had never spent much time in the second or third story of the Shack, so it was unfamiliar territory. Both the boy and the werewolf had lost sight of the human. Padfoot returned in the hopes he could find them by smell, though the wolf was doing the same.
Suddenly a red curse lit up the dark room. It came from around a corner and hit Moony square in the chest. Though this would have incapacitated any regular human, most magic could only slightly harm werewolves. Still, the person fired spell after spell. A binding jinx caught the wolf in ropes and nets, but still it persisted. As Padfoot snuck around the distracted wolf he was able to see part of the person. Student robes and a tie, he noticed but he could not easily distinguish colors as a dog, so couldn’t see which House colors they were. When the boy leaned back before firing, Sirius saw his face: Snape.
For a brief moment, he considered leaving him there. As much as his cruelty scared him, Sirius realized that he would abandon Snape to die, if only it wasn’t Moony that would kill him. Regardless of his hatred for the Slytherin he couldn’t allow his friend to bear that guilt. Remus wasn’t himself; he would do horrible things if not stopped, things he would deeply regret. Sirius transformed back into his human self and began launching the heavy wooden furniture at the werewolf. He knew that its body was strong and not easily broken, but even with death on the line he worried about seriously hurting Remus.
Sirius produced several crows which overwhelmed the room, scratching and screeching at the wolf who tried in vain to grab them. With this opportunity, he scrambled behind the half-wall where Snape was. His robe was torn at the elbow, but aside from this and looking terrified he seemed unharmed.
“What the fuck is this, Black?” he shouted over the birds’ squawking.
“You weren’t actually supposed to follow me!” he yelled back.
“I knew you were up to something—what are you playing at? A werewolf at Hogwarts? You could get us killed!”
“Shut up! Stop wasting your time. Magic won’t hurt it, only physical force,” Sirius told him, trying to think of a logical plan. The birds were quieting rapidly, for he couldn’t sustain them much longer. “The tunnel is the only way out; we have to go back downstairs.”
“Do you see another staircase? Because the only one I see has a goddamn werewolf in front of it!” Snape hissed, entirely unhelpful.
“There’s a hole in the floor, over there by the pillar,” he said, pointing. “I won’t be able to hold Moony off for long, so you have to be quick. Mind your ankles—it’s a bit of a drop.”
“You’re insane—“
Sirius stood and flicked his wand, pulling the netting around the werewolf down and backwards. It strained against the rope for it was tight around its neck. He was already straining to hold the magic. Thankfully Snape was quick. The second his stringy dark hair was out of sight, swallowed by the floor, Sirius let go and fell backwards.
He had transformed before he hit the ground and followed Snape. He tried to brace himself in the millisecond that he had—dropping from such a height as a human and as a dog are two very different experiences. A whine escaped from Padfoot upon impact, but he knew it could have been much worse.
He caught up with Snape and together they ran through the house towards the door. They had no clue where the werewolf was because it was eerily silent. Still, Sirius found himself optimistic about their chances.
Or, he was until Moony fell through the ceiling, blocking the only way out. When it stood, Sirius could have sworn it was smiling victoriously. It threw back its head and howled; Padfoot didn’t join then. He put himself between it and the boy, growling and snapping as it approached. Snape would have made a run for it but there was nowhere to go, so he could only keep backing up.
He continued to fire curses at the werewolf but was rapidly approaching a corner, a dead end. Padfoot had been somewhat successful at occupying it, wrestling, biting its ankles, calves, and tail. This was only delaying the inevitable, as both boys knew. The wolf continued to advance on Snape, who was now cornered. In one hand he held his wand and in the other he had a chair leg, which he held in front of him like a spear.
Sirius had one dirty trick left but was unsure if Snape would take the last opportunity and run or remain petrified as he was. There was only one shot at this; no way the wolf would allow it twice. The Slytherin was nearly pinned against the wall by Moony. It was now or never.
Padfoot backed away from its legs and crouched beneath its tail. Before he could second guess himself, he sprang forward, his hard snout rammed into the werewolf’s testicles as intended. The wolf gave a high-pitched yelp and doubled over, howling in pain.
He tried to scramble out from underneath it and block it from Snape. The latter had taken the opportunity to escape, lunging out of the corner and towards the doorway. But their actions were not unnoticed. The werewolf swiped at Padfoot’s head and sent him flying into a support beam. With blood in his eyes, he saw it slam Snape against the wall and his white shirt begin to color red where the wolf’s claws dug into his stomach.
It tried to ignore Sirius, kicking Padfoot away again when he tried to interfere. He was so tired, and the pain of his injuries was catching up to him as well as the worrying amount of blood he was losing. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this, but he had to.
Sirius left his Animagus form and launched various objects from around the room at Moony’s head, causing it to let go of the boy when pelted with glass. It recovered quickly and dropped to all fours to retrieve him. Grabbing Snape by the back of his collared shirt and robes with its jaws, the werewolf stood on its hind legs again.
Seemingly in slow motion, Sirius realized from the wolf’s body language what it was about to do. Its back legs tensed, and its head turned. As Padfoot he jumped onto its back, holding fast with his teeth and claws but it was no use.
Growing up, Sirius’ father forced him on a few hunting trips on their sprawling French property. The actual hunting was done by his father’s dogs—a mix of hounds and retrievers—but the two of them rode behind on a horse. Though he loathed any time spent with Orion, he found he rather enjoyed the experience; the land was a beautiful alternative to the dingy house, his mother never let him around horses, and the trips were the only time he ever saw the dogs.
Each trip, he begged to play with them, or at least pet them, but his father’s response was always the same: “No, Sirius. These are working animals; if you distract them, they will fail at their purpose, and you will be to blame.” He made it clear that this same mindset towards the dogs was what he expected of his son.
The last trip that Sirius accompanied his father had been exhilarating. As far as he can remember, that was the fastest his father had ever driven the horse. The dogs were constantly baying, changing direction on a dime. In the end, he and his father had nearly run over the prey. Several of the dogs went after it, but it was caught by a black retriever. They had hunted a red fox.
Usually, he and his father were much further from the dogs when they caught the prey, and so Sirius had never witnessed the death of these animals. That day was different; before the dog could kill the fox, his father commanded it to wait. When he made sure his son was watching, Orion ordered the dog again. It started to thrash its head back and forth, still holding the fox with its mouth. There was a sickening snapping noise, and the dog dropped the dead fox.
Padfoot was thrown off of the werewolf’s back as it shook Snape. There was that same snap, and the boy went limp. It dropped him and began to howl. From the floor Padfoot could see his empty dark eyes, just staring. His own brain had stopped processing what was happening—this couldn’t be happening.
Sirius wouldn’t dare leave his Animagus form given the circumstance, but only his magic would be of any use; he was too physically incapacitated to challenge the wolf. He slowly dragged himself on his stomach until he was behind a tall bookshelf. Trying desperately to go unnoticed, he transformed back into a human. As disgusting as it was, and as much as he hated himself for it, he was thankful that the werewolf was occupied with its kill. He needed to think of something quickly—he was losing any strength he once had, and black spots danced across his eyes. He had an idea, but it was reckless and uncalculated. What did he have to lose?
Peering around the bookshelf, he looked around for one of the house’s many pillars. Sirius aimed for one near the werewolf and launched a curse at it. It started to crack, and then slowly fall, dragging down parts of the ceiling with it. The Shrieking Shack had never been very structurally sound to begin with even before Moony fell through the floor, so partially collapsing it didn’t take much effort. The werewolf quickly became pinned beneath the upper floors, but Sirius had no energy left to escape the dangerous structure. His vision began to darken, and all he wanted was to go to sleep but he was so cold, too cold...
Through his brain fog, he heard James calling his name. The stag jumped nimbly through the wreckage to where Sirius was pinned. When he transformed from Prongs, James knelt down frantically next to his friend, his hands roaming to assess for damage. His face was a bloody mess and James felt his stomach turn.
“I’m going to get you out of here—you’re going to be just fine,” he whispered, probably more for his own benefit.
“No,” his friend gasped, delirious with pain, struggling against his touch. “Leave me. Get Snape…”
With a sudden sickening feeling, he saw what trapped Sirius: the long, splintered piece of wood across his chest wasn’t heavy enough to crush him thankfully, but it had been thrust through his shoulder and into the floor. James ripped off his robes to press against his shoulder, trying to encourage Sirius to hold it by grabbing his hands.
Quickly looking around for any sign of the werewolf but finding none, James used his wand to carefully saw most of the wood off, leaving only that which was imbedded. Once able to pull it off of his friend, he tried to lift and carry him, but Sirius was uncooperative.
“REMUS!” he shouted, fighting off James with what little strength he had. “I can’t leave him, Regulus, we have to find him, can’t leave him, please Regulus,” he repeated again and again, accidentally elbowing his friend in the chin.
“Shh! Shit, okay, Sirius! Stop struggling and be quiet,” James ordered. “I’ll take you to the tunnel and go back for Remus and Snape.”
It was a cruel lie, but he believed it and gave in to James’ demand. The latter picked him up bridal style and quickly but carefully picked his way through the mess. The door was in sight, they were almost there, when James was knocked from his feet. Both him and Sirius crashed to the ground. On instinct he transformed into Prongs, just in time to see the werewolf fully emerge from beneath the rubble, howling in outrage.
At first, he was optimistic, for his antlers kept a safe distance between them. He stood over Sirius, who wasn’t moving. The wolf became more impatient; the smell of human blood driving it wild. It lunged, trying to avoid Prongs but with no success. His antlers soundly hit its shoulder, causing it to shriek in pain. In one fluid motion, the werewolf held the deer off the ground by his leg, which had snapped and bone gone through skin, though he refused to look at it.
As he stared into Moony’s unknowing yellow eyes, James thought to himself, this is it, this is how I die, alongside Snape and Sirius, at the hand of a friend. The wolf lifted him higher, towards its snarling mouth. Just as James braced himself for its teeth, its eyes turned cloudy, and it dropped him. It stood there silently for a second, it’s placid face and white eyes staring ahead but focusing on nothing before throwing back its head to howl.
Prongs changed back into James, and despite his injured arm he turned around to find Sirius. He was laying on the ground where he had left him unconscious, but now his shaking hand held his wand out before him. While James carried him again, he fought to maintain his concentration until they reached the tunnel. They threw open the door and collapsed into the corridor behind it, relishing the peace only for a moment.
James pulled Sirius into an upright position against the wall, pulling off the rest of his robes to wrap around him. As he did, his friend was losing consciousness. “Stop, Regulus… let me go…”
Though James had never done it successfully, he needed to send his Patronus with a message. He was out of options; he didn’t dare leave his friend to bleed out alone in a dark tunnel even if it was to get help.
“Expecto Patronum!”
From his wand leapt forth a blindingly bright stag, which pranced around him before stopping as if awaiting orders. He cleared his throat and said, “Go to Professor McGonagall—Moony is out of control and Sirius is badly hurt.”
With a wave James dismissed his messenger, not bothering to watch it dash down the tunnel. He returned to Sirius, whose one visible eye was closed and his breath slow. Behind them he could hear the werewolf howl in frustration and throw itself at the door. He knew that the rickety-looking door to the Shack was magically reinforced, but that did nothing to reassure him.
Despite being swaddled in two sets of wool robes and cloaks, when James put his hand on his face Sirius was alarmingly cold. He was practically lying on his unconscious friend in an effort to use his body heat but it didn’t seem to matter. He looked panicked around the tunnel as if that would help but he needed to do something; would he really watch him die without doing anything? He didn’t know many first aid or healing spells, and those he did he was shit at. He suddenly had an idea; what about a heating charm? Injured people bleed less when they’re warm, right? Right?
James wasn’t half bad at them if he said so himself, but had a tendency to burn things. He didn’t dare cast the charm actually on his friend, so he instead began to heat the robes around him. An awful burning wool smell wafted from the robes but he could see no fire.
Not a moment too soon, he heard a few sets of footsteps echoing down the tunnel—his message must have worked! Around the corner ran Peter, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey, all still in varying states of pajamas.
“James!” Peter exclaimed. He nearly ran his two friends over in his haste. He kneeled down by Sirius’ side.
“Christ Almighty, Potter! What the hell happened?” McGonagall demanded. Her words were harsh but they didn’t hide her concern.
“Snape, Professor,” he panted. He couldn’t form the right words, still in partial denial. Pomfrey levitated Sirius onto a magically produced gurney as he watched. “It killed him… Snape’s dead…”
“What—?”
Now that his adrenaline was lowering, he started to fully feel the pain from his broken arm. He was exhausted, could hardly breathe, and fucking freezing. Reality was crashing down around him. “I promised Sirius that I would get his body—“
Pomfrey shook her head adamantly, now wrapping his arm. “No, you two are coming with me, immediately.”
She sent Sirius’ unconscious self floating down the tunnel, then started to follow. She didn’t turn to see if he was following, James knew that Poppy wasn’t meant to be messed with.
With Peter’s help, he got to his feet and set off behind her. The remaining Marauder stared at the large pool of blood where his friends had been. Never had he seen so much at once. He thought he might faint.
“Peter?” McGonagall asked gently, waving her wand to clear the scene before them.
“They’re going to be alright, right?” he sniffled. “James and Sirius?”
“I’ve never met such a stubborn pair of boys; your friends will pull through,” she said and put her hand on his shoulder. “Right now though, we must focus on your friend Mr. Lupin.”