i'm warning you, hermione! keep that bloody beast of yours away from scabbers or i'll turn it into a tea cozy.
a cat! is that what they told you? looks more like a pig with hair if you ask me.
brilliant. it's got loads of old stuff. mummies. death masks. tombs --
i also got a new wand. just then, a commotion is heard. the weasleys -- percy, fred, george, ginny, arthur, and molly -- arrive en masse, laden with purchases from diagon alley.
i haven't shown anyone!
brilliant!
i still think it was brilliant. snap! snap! snap! a copy of the the monster book of monsters scuttles crab-like down the aisle, pursued by
who d'you reckon he is?
you know everything. how is it she knows everything?
let me get this straight. sirius black escaped from azkaban to come after you?
sure -- of course, no one's ever broken out of azkaban before and he's a raving, murderous lunatic.  just then, the compartment rattles. lanterns flicker. the train lurches, begins to slow. hermione slides down the seat, pinning ron against the window. they exchange an awkward glance, then hermione carefully slides to the other end of the seat and glances at her watch. frowns.
what's going on?
there's something moving out there. i think.  people are coming aboard. suddenly the car sways violently.  rights itself. the metal window trim at ron's fingertips begins to vibrate.
bloody hell. what's happening? ssssst! a soft crackling fills the car and flames bloom.  in the hands of r.j. lupin. in the shivering light, his face looks tired and gray, but his eyes are alert. wary.
well, you sort of went.  rigid. we thought maybe you were having a fit or something.
no. i felt.  weird. like i'd never be cheerful again. but.  no. harry turns to hermione. she shakes her head.
good to be home, eh, harry? harry turns -- caught -- and finds ron studying him from his own bed, scabbers cradled in his hand. harry nods and turns to the window.
where'd you come from?
well. he's got a wonky sort of cross -- that's trials and suffering. but this lot here could be the sun -- that's great happiness. so.  he's going to suffer but be very happy about it. professor trelawney takes the cup, peers inside, and
ancient runes? exactly how many classes are you taking this term?
hang on. ancient runes is the same time as divination. you'd have to be in two classes at once.
hagrid. exactly what is that?
the little git. he's really laying it on thick, isn't he?
who? but the photograph on the prophet's front page provides a chilling answer: sirius black. hermione reads over the shoulders of others. whispers half to herself:
when'd she get here?
riddikulus! crack! roller skates materialize on the spider's hairy feet and it begins to shuffle crazily in place. instantly, ron relaxes as the class' laughter rings out.
and honeyduke's is brilliant! sugar quills, flaming whizbees -- and blood-flavored lollipops for halloween! harry nods, picking quietly through the spray of brilliantly colored sweets on the table. hermione notices.
huh? oh. yeah. dead depressing. hang on. i almost forgot. i got you something wicked at dervish and banges. it's a pocket sneakoscope. ron places a small glass spinning top on the table.
if there's someone untrustworthy around, it's meant to light up and spin. mind you, fred and george say it's rubbish, sold for wizard tourists, but i thought, you know, it can't hurt, given that.
oh, careful of those, they'll make your.
never mind.
what's the hold-up? only neville ever forgets the password.
probably stuffing her face with the apples in that still life on the second floor again.
yeah, we'll call you.  if we ever need someone mental.
werewolves?
when did she come in? did you see her come in.
he's got a point, you know. harry stares at the parchment. malfoy has drawn a crude caricature of harry in his quidditch robes being struck by lightning over and over.
looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?
you fell off your broom.
there's something else you should know, harry. your nimbus -- when it blew away? -- it sort of landed in the whomping willow. and well.  he tips a bag of splintered wood and twisted twigs onto the bed. as harry stares, we hear a gentle wind, then.
twice.
huh? oh.  all right.
actually, it's fine from here.
shut your mouth, malfoy.
that was not bloody hell, harry! funny!
those weasels! never told me about any marauder's map!
oh sure. along with his invisibility cloak, his pack of exploding snap cards, his --
it's not true!
harry? he's gone. footprints track through the snow, into the pub.
aaaahhhh! harry bolts up, sees a silhouette etched on the window -- a man clutching a knife. all the boys are up now. screaming. amid the chaos, harry grabs his wand.
is he gone?
i don't know how he got in! i was a bit busy dodging his knife! just then, a curiously content crookshanks wends his way through ron's legs.
and this bloody cat ate my rat!
it is not and you bloody well know it! professor mcgonagall silence! mcgonagall turns then and everyone follows her eye to sir cadogan who, sensing the attention, perks up instantly.
i find it astonishing that someone who prides herself on being so logical can be in such denial.
harry was there! he'll tell you how it was. go on, harry, tell her.
really? wasn't you had to roll under the bed last night to avoid getting cut to ribbons! a person could die being your friend, harry! ron stops, wishes he could take it back. they all wish he could. avoiding each other's eyes, they turn, continue on.
draco. it's him the committee should punish. it's him they should send off to the forest, not buckbeak.
she's gone mental, hermione has. i mean, not that she wasn't always mental, but now it's out in the open for everyone to see.  ron stops, glances at harry, then moves off. harry watches him go, along with the others, then spies hermione's crystal ball lying on the landing.
hermione! no! she turns, surprised ron's spoken to her. he looks away.
he's not worth it. hermione nods, then -- smack! -- quick as lightning, lands a looping right to malfoy's jaw, putting him flat on his back. stunned, he leaps to his feet and runs, crabbe and goyle huffing and puffing behind.
i'm not kissing fang if that's what you're thinking.  hearing his name, fang -- hagrid's giant boarhound -- thumps his tail happily on the floor. hagrid turns, takes the lid from a flour tin, a tiny head, ears flecked with powder, emerges.
scabbers! you're alive!
right. next time i see crookshanks, i'll let him know.
he bit me.  his eyes shift. see scabbers streaking away.
now behave yourself. camera pulls back: ron is kneeling under the whomping willow.
harry! run! harry's eyes shift. bounding toward him in the gathering gloom is an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black.  dog. harry shields himself when.  the dog leaps clear over him.
aaaahhh! the dog's teeth flash and -- snap! -- close on ron's foot, dragging him towards the trunk like a rag doll. instantly, harry dashes forward, leaps out, and grabs ron's hands.  but he and ron just keep skudding along the ground.
harry! harry raises his chin. the dog vanishes into the gap at the base of the tree, begins to pull ron through.
he's the dog. it's a trap, harry. he's an animagus.  harry looks down, follows the paw prints on the floor to a pair of filthy human feet. harry looks up slowly at the man standing in the shadows. filthy, matted hair hangs to his shoulders. his skin like a corpse.
you're mad.  harry's eyes shift from ron's face to his hands, where scabbers twists violently. as a curious expression befalls harry, lupin and black, as one, raise their wands.  when.
m-me? it's lunatic.
scabbers? scabbers has been in my family for --
so what?
what are you going to do to him? sirius and lupin exchange a glance.
it's scabbers who did it!
my rat, sir. only he's not really well, he was a rat. you a rat. see, he used to be my brother percy's --
what in bloody hell was all that about? but hermione doesn't reply, instead looping the pendant's long chain around harry's neck as well as her own.
how'd you two get over there? i was just talking to you.  over there.
stand back, i said! i'll take it upstairs if you don't settle! as harry arrives, he glances at hermione, who clears her throat loudly. the others turn, begin all speaking at once.
quiet! thank you. let the man through. mystified, harry steps forward, the boys peeling away, clearing his view of the broomstick in ron's hands. the
whose is it? it's yours, mate.