Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

"I've got the cloak. We'll go after dinner." He'd taken to keeping the cloak in his Twilfitt bag at all times, just in case he might need it. He wanted to always be prepared.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, not even putting up a token protest about Sirius Black and school rules. Hagrid was far too important for that.

Trelawney's words rolled around Harry's mind as they joined the crowd of students heading down for dinner, worry gnawing at his stomach. What sort of chaos was he about to get into now?

.-.-.

He could hardly remember the last time he'd spent actual social time with both Ron and Hermione — not that this really felt like socialising, hurrying down to Hagrid's hut under the invisibility cloak. The half-giant didn't let them stay long, worried they might get caught, but it was enough for Hagrid to get some small comfort from their support.

And, unfortunately, enough for Ron and Hermione to start bickering again.

"I'm just saying, I can sympathise," Ron hissed as they walked away from the hut, careful to avoid the sight of the Minister and Dumbledore heading down to Hagrid's. Why on Earth was the Minister himself involved in a matter as simple as a dangerous creature execution? It baffled Harry, but he shook the matter from his head; what Fudge got up to was none of his business, not right now.

"After all, I know what it's like to have your pet killed," Ron finished, and Hermione let out an offended noise. Harry sighed to himself, wondering if he could cover himself with the cloak and just slip away, if they would even notice once they truly got arguing.

"What happened to Scabbers was an accident, Ronald!" Hermione retorted indignantly. "How dare you suggest I can't feel bad for Hagrid just because my cat did what cats do!" Harry was about to turn away and leave them to it — and then, in the fading light of the sunset, he saw a blur of orange running towards them.

Crookshanks. Of course. But what was he after?

He heard twin gasps as his two companions noticed the incoming, and then Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as she spotted the same thing Harry did. "Scabbers!"

Sure enough, Crookshanks was chasing a small brown blur across the grass — a blur that, when it stopped to turn sharply, had the distinct patchy fur of Ron's pet rat. "He's alive!" Hermione exclaimed, lurching forward to try and grab the rat. Scabbers kept on straight past her, the bandy-legged cat hot on his tail.

"Not for much longer by the looks of it," Ron growled, already sprinting off in hot pursuit. Hermione hared after them, and Harry sighed, hurrying to catch up. He couldn't leave them out there, not if they were going to make such a racket while Dumbledore and the Minister were still lurking about.

They drew closer to the tree-line of the Forbidden Forest, Hermione faster than Ron as they followed the frantically zig-zagging rat. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as the bushy-haired girl dove, letting out a cry of triumph as her hands closed around Scabbers' wriggling form. "Got him!" she declared, then let out a quiet yelp.

Harry and Ron skidded to a halt, unable to do anything but watch as an enormous black dog leapt from the shadows, clamped its jaw around Hermione's wrist, and began to drag her away.

Right towards the Whomping Willow.

.-.-.

Everything had unraveled so quickly.

The boys had chased after Hermione and the dog, but the Whomping Willow stopped them from getting too close — at least until Crookshanks somehow did something at the base of the tree, freezing it in place. By that point, Hermione had already disappeared through a hole at its roots. Harry and Ron had no choice but to follow.

From there, downhill.

things

had

only

gone

Now, Harry found himself inside what seemed to be the Shrieking Shack, staring at Hermione on a broken old four-poster bed with Scabbers still wriggling in one hand while her other arm was cradled gingerly in her lap. And stood in front of her, brandishing Hermione's wand, was none other than Sirius Black. "Harry, Ron, run!" Hermione urged, but they both shook their heads — there was no way they were leaving her with the man who had betrayed Harry's parents.

Black disarmed them both, awe in his eyes as he stared at Harry, whispering his name reverently. Harry stepped back, wishing he had something else to defend himself with. Wishing he was capable of some kind of useful wandless magic.

Valiantly, Ron stood between Black and Harry, declaring the Azkaban escapee would need to go through him to get to his godson. But far from striking him down in an instant like one might expect, Black shook his head wildly, insisting that only one life need end that night. "Why d'you suddenly care about casualties?" Harry retorted quietly. "Didn't bother you when you blew up Pettigrew and all those muggles, did it? He was your friend! My father was your friend!"

"You don't understand, Harry," Black insisted. "If you only knew the full story… it's my fault, I won't deny that… but you've got to listen to me… you don't understand."

"I understand more than you know," Harry spat. "They trusted you, and you betrayed them. You were their friend! You were their secret keeper!"

Black howled in anguish, reeling back. "No, no, you've got it all wrong," he moaned. "The truth, you need to hear the truth!" Black squeezed his eyes shut as if pained, and Harry took his chance, diving for his wand. Crookshanks dove as well, his claws digging into Harry's forearm. Hermione screamed. The cat seemed determined to keep Harry from his wand, and Harry growled, shoving the ball of ginger fur aside and reaching his wand rolled towards him, just enough for him to grasp it. Crookshanks' claws sliced him through from wrist to elbow as he rolled to his feet, but Harry barely registered the pain, pointing his wand squarely at Black's chest.

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