Archive of Our Own

On a sunday evening halfway through December, nearly six weeks after the attack on Gryffindor Tower, a brown tabby with peculiar square markings around her eyes walks into the staff room, where Remus Lupin has just got up to prepare himself a fresh cup of tea. He is the only one present in the room, which therefore has plenty of empty chairs to choose from, but the cat jumps up onto the armchair by the fire with the stack of unmarked Defence papers clearly laid out on the table beside it. The seat cushion still carries a cosy recently-vacated warmth. She paces in a circle and then sits, the tip of her tail curled around her paws as she watches him.

Remus turns back towards her. 'Can I help you, Professor?' He quirks one eyebrow up in amusement. 'If you wanted my chair, you could have asked.'

The cat transforms into Minerva McGonagall, settled comfortably into the armchair with her feet tucked up beneath her. 'I wondered if I might have a word, Remus.'

His eyebrows inch higher, and he passes Minerva the second cup of tea he'd poured. 'Go on, then.'

Minerva pauses, then begins by asking, 'Do you recall our conversation on Hallowe'en night?'

'About the passages which Black might have used to enter the castle?' Remus frowns. 'I never found any trace of him-- I hope you know that I would have reported it at once if I had. I'm afraid I still don't have the faintest idea of how he did it.'

Minerva gives him a shrewd searching look, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet, both of them evidently thinking back to his school days when he and his friends would get caught in the middle of some sort of Mischief-- but Remus had not looked this nervous since his very earliest days as a student, when he'd still been unsure of his place in the school, all too afraid of losing it. 'I did not mean to insinuate that I thought you had helped him, Mr Lupin,' Minerva explains.

'Oh,' Remus says, a little of the stiff tension leaving his shoulders (but then, he always looks tense these days). He sips his tea, as though for lack of anything else to do with his hands. 'What did you wish to discuss, then?'

'You mentioned that you were able to use your advanced sense of smell to determine whether Black had recently passed through any particular location-- as an Animagus, I possess similar sensory abilities, and decided to investigate for myself. Of course, I do not know Black's scent nearly as well as you once did, but nevertheless I thought that perhaps I might find something of note.'

'And... what was it that you found?' he asks mildly, sipping his tea. Minerva raises her eyebrows at him, and his mouth quirks into a small smile against the rim of his mug. 'I assume that, had you found nothing worth mentioning, we would not be having this conversation.'

'Very astute.' Minerva pauses. 'I found no sign of Black himself, though I did come across some... rather odd rumours being passed around.'

Remus frowns. 'Among the students? I can't say that I've heard anything noteworthy.'

'No-- the school's cats. Namely, student familiars and the resident mousers.'

Remus blinks at her, evidently quite thrown by this statement. 'The... cats?'

'In addition to our ability to transform,' Minerva explains, 'most Animagi also possess a natural affinity for communicating with other animals, particularly those of the same or adjacent species to their own form-- and since animals are often very good judges of character, I reasoned that perhaps the cats might have noticed an intruder fitting Black's description.' Minerva sips her tea. 'Of course, cats do not understand the concept or function of human names well enough for me to inquire about Black specifically, so instead I described traits an animal would notice-- most significantly, the intent to cause harm or kill.'

'But if you didn't find any sign of Black himself,' Remus says, frowning. '...Are you suggesting they found someone else who means the students harm?'

'It's the strangest thing,' Minerva says softly. 'I'm afraid I can't make the slightest sense of it, but every time I tried to ask about Black they insisted I was looking in the wrong direction entirely, and continued to repeat the same peculiar story.'

'Oh?' Remus says politely.

'Yes-- something about a killer rat with a damaged paw, and a surprisingly friendly large black dog.'

Remus drops his cup, the ceramic shattering on the floor and splashing hot tea over his shoes. Minerva starts to get up, but Remus waves her off, drying himself and mending the cup with an impatient wave of his wand, though his eyes hardly leave her face. 'I'm sorry-- what?'

---

Minerva first caught on to the Cat Mystery after the incident on Hallowe'en-- she had been patrolling the corridors with all the other teachers, searching for any sign of Sirius Black, when she came across Remus Lupin on the fourth floor.

He had looked terrible, of course-- the full moon had been only the night before, and that was to say nothing of his prior friendship with Black (or perhaps something rather less platonic; the two had never been open in their affections but Minerva had spent enough time around students to understand the way they looked at each other) which has surely made this ordeal uniquely difficult for him. Minerva had tried to suggest that he get some rest, but he mentioned with a humourless smile that he and his friends had known the castle rather well, better than any other students and even most teachers, and he wanted to be sure to check all the little nooks and crannies they had once explored together. Of course there was no telling how much Black might still remember after twelve years of exposure to dementors, and he was probably using Dark Magic learnt from Voldemort to get in, but better to be cautious anyway.

Minerva had suggested that Remus could list out the places for someone else to check, and that was when he'd smiled dryly and reminded Minerva that, as a werewolf, he was uniquely equipped to verify if any of those passages had been recently used-- any possible trace of Black's magical signature would be impossible to detect in a highly magic-saturated environment like Hogwarts (even if he hadn't taken steps of his own to conceal it) but Remus would be able to detect the slightest trace of his scent, as werewolves have very sharp sense of smell, and even after twelve years he's quite sure he would still recognise it.

She had left him to it, but this had prompted her to return to the area around the Gryffindor Tower in her cat form, just in case she might be able to pick up a trace.

Far too many students had gathered here at the ruined portrait for her to detect any particular thread that might belong to Black, but she did find a cat slipping out through the narrow access passage which cats could use to enter and leave the Gryffindor common room at will, and that had given her the idea to enlist the cats of Hogwarts to help in the search (to whatever extent that cats could be persuaded to co-operate and help with anything).

But, instead of Sirius Black, she had stumbled upon some sort of bizarre feline conspiracy.

At first, Minerva had attributed the lack of sensible results to her own failure to put Black's description into terms the cats would understand, but after trying many different variations with a wide variety of different individuals, she had to concede that perhaps there was something to it after all. Every single attempt to inquire after a 'killer' or a 'person who means harm to students' resulted in mentions of the Rat-- a creature described as being largely average in appearance, but missing one toe on a front paw. Any attempt to specify a human person resulted in cryptic responses about the 'rat person' or 'human rat'... and any attempt to describe Black's physical appearance (tall, unhealthily thin to the point of starvation, black hair, a wild and dangerous appearance, hasn't been seen around the castle before this term) had elicited only a series of reports about a stray dog, and not one single mention of a man. This dog was consistently described as very large but emaciated, entirely black in colour aside from his pale eyes, with a shaggy ungroomed coat-- and perhaps most notably, despite being described as wild and almost wolfish in appearance, every single cat that has had a close encounter with this dog has insisted that he was very kind and friendly, never chasing them or barking at them. 

At this point, utterly thrown off by all of the strange reports, Minerva had even swallowed her pride and (very grudgingly) gone to have a word with Mrs Norris.

Minerva McGonagall gets along splendidly with nearly every cat she's ever met-- she always has, ever since she was a young girl, and her affinity for them had only increased after she completed her animagus transformation and became one herself. The current Mrs Norris is, regrettably, one of the few exceptions. Minerva has never in all her years encountered a more narcissistic and supercilious creature (which is saying something, considering the character of the average cat) while at the same time maintaining a saccharine degree of devotion and subservience to Argus Filch of all people (Minerva supposes that not every cat is graced with good taste). 

In truth, Minerva probably ought to have asked Mrs Norris about Black right away instead of putting it off-- while this Mrs Norris had never known Black as a student (that dubious honour had belonged to her predecessor, the late Mrs Norris) Filch had always loathed Black and his friends with a fiery passion, and therefore his newest feline assistant would surely have been told all about them as well. And although Minerva was quite confident that Mrs Norris could not have seen Black herself (for if she had, the staff would have heard no end of it from a gleeful and inordinately proud Filch) the cat would no doubt be a valuable ally in the search.

...If only she weren't so insufferable. Minerva had scarcely mentioned the mysterious rumours before receiving a rude reminder as to why she had been avoiding this.

Mrs Norris had immediately scoffed at the subject, and told Minerva that she needn't pay the odd rumours any mind at all. Mrs Norris had been entirely unable to reveal anything useful about the rumours, only a brief mention that they are related to some sort of Dreadful Mischief spread by a newcomer to the castle, a large ginger tom. Mrs Norris did, however, have rather a lot to say about him, and none of it good-- Impudent and disreputable creature, she griped; he thinks he can simply show up and strut about like he alone owns the place! Such rude and unseemly behaviour ought to be punished, if you ask me. 

Minerva considered pointing out that Mrs Norris hardly ever gets on with anyone besides Mr Filch (and no, she had not in fact asked for Mrs Norris's opinion) but she kept it to herself and stalked off, leaving Mrs Norris to her irritable hunt for any rule-breaking students to report to her beloved human partner.

Following this encounter, Minerva had contemplated tracking down the ginger tom, in case he might be able to provide any further details-- but then she'd shaken herself out, and firmly reminded herself that she had no evidence that this matter was even worth pursuing at all. She needed a second opinion, and she had swiftly decided on Remus Lupin, as he was highly intelligent and an expert in Defence Against the Dark Arts, with a specialisation in dark creatures. Hopefully, Remus would be able to help her establish whether some creature or spell might be prompting this strange behaviour in the cats of Hogwarts.

---

Once Minerva has finished explaining (though she conveniently 'forgets' to mention her ongoing feud with Mrs Norris) Remus sits down with a bump. He looks rather lost, as though the floor has been ripped from beneath his feet. Minerva sets her cup aside. 'Does this... mean something to you, Remus?'

'I... I can't say. I'm sure it's probably nothing. But...' He looks even more troubled than he did on Hallowe'en, which is to say, very troubled indeed. 'Would you say that sort of thing is... normal, for cats? Having a common mission like this?'

'Not in the slightest,' says Minerva. 'That is partly why I have found it so puzzling-- cats are very contrary creatures by nature, and rarely agree with one another on anything at all. To observe so many uniting in pursuit of the same goal... I have never seen the like.'

'And the ginger tom... you haven't, er, spoken to him yet?' Minerva shakes her head, and Remus straightens up in his seat. 'Well, at the very least I think we should question him, and see if we can't track down and examine this rat and dog. If only so that we can confirm that the rumours are nothing significant.'

'And if they are?' 

Remus hesitates, biting his lower lip. His eyes go unfocused, and when he speaks, his voice is very quiet. 'Then... I fear we might all have made a terrible mistake.'

---

Minerva agrees to proceed with the investigation, though Remus refuses to elaborate any further on his own suspicions, or what sort of mistake he fears they might have made-- he says only that he doesn't want to risk giving her a false bias if he tells her everything right off. Minerva isn't entirely sure she believes this particular reasoning-- Remus Lupin always was clever and crafty, and very very good at keeping secrets-- but she is convinced that his initial shocked response was genuine, and that's more than enough of a reason for her to suspect that there really is something to it. She has never known Remus to be the sort of man who is easily shaken.

On her now-nightly patrols in her animagus form, Minerva begins to tell all the cats she encounters that she wants to help locate the Bad Rat. The cats seem to be very pleased-- though they warn her against going after the Rat herself, and when she tries to ask after the mysterious ginger tom, she receives no clear reply, as none of the cats keep track of one another's habits unless it concerns them directly, and the ginger is evidently not the sort of cat who can reliably be found in the same places throughout the day. It seems that the others have simply been reporting to him whenever they happen to run into him-- which is about the maximum level of organisation that can typically be expected of cats. This comes as something of a relief (even though it complicates their search) as cats are hardly ever straightforward about anything at all, and it was beginning to unsettle her a bit.

Still, Minerva is able to glean a few more details-- the Bad Rat spends much of his time hidden up in Gryffindor Tower, and they have described him as a 'kept rat'-- all of which most likely means that he is a Gryffindor student's familiar or pet. Minerva heads up to the Common Room to search, using one of the narrow cat-passages, but she has no sooner entered the room than she finds her way blocked by a large fluffy ginger tom-- likely the very same one she has been looking for, as he's not a cat she has encountered previously, and therefore most likely a recently-acquired student familiar. She attempts to greet him politely, but much to her surprise he growls at her, his bottlebrush tail whipping dangerously back and forth, which is, once again, very odd. Minerva has never encountered a cat so deeply set against her from the start before. 

The ginger actually takes a swipe at her-- with claws extended!-- and she darts out of range with a hiss. He growls again, clearly with no intention of backing down.

Forced to retreat for the moment, Minerva paces irritably back down the corridor, her own tail still puffed up and whipping aggressively from side to side, betraying her foul mood. She could have shifted back, of course, and put the cat in his place, but that would have meant all of the students in the Common Room witnessing her moment of indignity, and that simply wouldn't do. 

Minerva turns a corner, and (most regrettably) she once again finds herself almost nose-to-nose with a very smug Mrs Norris.

I did warn you about him, Mrs Norris gloats. Absolutely dreadful creature, isn't he? Perhaps next time you will know better than to be so dismissive of my advice.

Oh, piss off, Minerva hisses, turning to stalk off down a different (blissfully Norris-free) corridor.

---

She tracks Remus down again, this time in his office, and yowls imperiously as she enters the room.

He glances up. 'Ah, good evening, Professor.'

Minerva tosses off her feline form and drops into the chair next to Remus's desk in one fluid motion. 'Yes, quite.'

Remus hums, and picks up his cup, taking a long drink of his tea. 'If you'll forgive me for saying so, it seems that something has... rubbed you the wrong way tonight.' Minerva shoots a glare at him, and he smiles innocuously against the rim of his cup, sliding one of the drawers of his desk open and withdrawing a tin. 'Have a chocolate, Minerva.'

Yes, he's definitely having a go at her, in the politest and mildest way possible. Minerva regards him superciliously as she selects a chocolate from the tin. 'Ta.'

Remus chooses a chocolate for himself and returns the tin to its drawer, shuffling a stack of parchments to the side and propping his elbow on his desk, chin in his hand. He waits until just after she's put the chocolate in her mouth before saying, 'You've found something, then?'

'Mmh...' Minerva scowls over the top of her spectacles, and takes her time with the chocolate (it's quite good, the outer shell giving a satisfying snap as she bites into it and the creamy inside melting on her tongue). '...I have determined that the Rat is most likely a student's pet-- as is the ginger tom, for that matter.'

Remus quirks an eyebrow. 'So you've had a word with our mystery ginger gentleman?'

Minerva scowls. 'As it turns out, that cat evidently finds my presence highly offensive-- he would not tolerate me at all.' Remus doesn't laugh, but Minerva can tell he's laughing on the inside. She briefly entertains the notion of knocking a nearby inkwell off his desk in protest, but refrains from doing so. He probably deserves a bit of a laugh, after all he's been through. 'No-- I'm afraid he would not permit me to enter the Tower at all.'

To her surprise, Remus's amusement evaporates in an instant. 'Er-- you don't mean Gryffindor Tower?'

'Yes, I suspect that both of them belong to Gryffindor students. Why do you ask?'

Remus has stood up, wand clutched in his hand. 'I cannot explain just yet-- only that I've just had a very bad feeling about this-- call it werewolf intuition.' He strides out the door, Minerva close on his heels; his expression is grim as he adds quietly, 'There is something I need to verify for myself.'

They reach the entrance to Gryffindor Tower very swiftly, by virtue of Remus's clever use of hidden side-passages (including one which Minerva is quite sure nearly always leads somewhere else). Remus gives the password before Sir Cadogan can even finish his attempt to challenge them to a duel (Minerva notes how the little painted knight slumps dejectedly within his frame as the portrait swings open) and Remus ducks through the entrance.

It's still early enough in the evening that the Common Room is quite full, the background chatter dying out as the students take note of the two teachers now in their presence. Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva spots either Fred or George Weasley hastily shoving something out of sight; on another night she might have investigated but right now whatever Remus is up to is surely more important-- he glances around the room, then heads towards where Harry is sat alone next to a window, listlessly flipping through the most recent issue of Which Broomstick.

'Harry,' Remus says, a faint note of urgency (and perhaps relief?) creeping into his tone. 'Might we have a word?'

Harry blinks up at them. 'Professor Lupin...?' He glances nervously from Remus to Minerva, neither of them giving anything away (not that Minerva could even if she wanted to).

'You're not in trouble,' Remus clarifies.

'Oh. Okay,' says Harry. He seems almost glad for an excuse to set the broomstick catalogue aside, and follows them to a dim out-of-the-way alcove across the room from the fireplace (and therefore left empty). Minerva notices Remus flick a silent Muffliato around them, to ensure that no other students will be able to listen in, as well as some variation of a notice-me-not.

'This... may seem a rather odd question,' Remus begins, 'but please bear with me.' He pauses, and takes a deep breath. 'I don't suppose one of your friends has a pet rat with a missing finger?'

'Er,' Harry says, utterly bewildered but with an undercurrent of caution.

'I promise you, they are not in trouble either,' says Remus. 'But it is very important that you tell me the truth, if this is the case.'

Harry bites his lip, then answers, 'Ron does-- his rat Scabbers has got a missing toe on one of his front paws.'

'And... what about a cat--' Remus looks to Minerva, one eyebrow raised in an invitation for her to elaborate.

'A large ginger male,' Minerva finishes. 'A longhair with a very bushy tail and yellow eyes-- he would have been new to the castle just this year.'

'That sounds like Crookshanks-- Hermione's new cat. She got him at the end of summer hols in Diagon Alley.'

'I'd like to see them,' says Remus. 'Do you think you could ask Ron and Hermione to bring them down to my office?'

'Er,' says Harry. 'At the same time?' He pauses. 'Only I'm not sure that's a good idea; Scabbers has been rather ill, and Crookshanks really hates him and chases him all the time.'

'I'm not surprised,' Remus murmurs, a dark edge to his tone. He shakes his head. 'Hermione first, then.' He starts across the room to where Hermione is sat at a table all alone, every spare inch of space covered in books and rolls of parchment. Harry catches Minerva's eye questioningly, and Minerva simply inclines her head and indicates that they should both follow Remus. This time, conversation in the room continues around them as normal, cloaked as they are in secrecy spells.

In response to Remus's request, Hermione frowns and lifts Crookshanks (who had been curled up at her feet) onto her lap, holding him there for Remus to see. 'I don't understand, Professor. What was it you wanted to see him for?'

Remus crouches down, offering his fingers for Crookshanks to sniff. 'I suspected as much,' he says softly. 'This cat is a half-kneazle hybrid.'

'Oh!' says Hermione. 'Is that-- is that all right? I mean, I know that owning or breeding full blooded kneazles requires a special license granted by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and of course I've read that they can safely interbreed with regular domestic cats, but I've never seen any indication of regulations against owning hybrids and the witch at the Magical Menagerie didn't mention anything about--'

'No, no, it's quite all right-- hybrids like this one are nearly indistinguishable from ordinary cats; there is no restriction on owning them.' Remus scratches the cat's ears. 'You're looking for someone, aren't you?'

Crookshanks purrs, and Minerva considers this new information-- kneazles are known to hate any sort of dishonesty or deception, which might explain why he had disliked her at first sight... though that would mean he was able to discern that she was an animagus at only a second's glance. Minerva has never known even a full-blooded kneazle to identify her so swiftly; this creature would have to be uncannily intelligent and observant...

But then again, the other cats had described the Rat as being 'like a person'. Perhaps there is something to it after all.

'We are too,' Remus tells Crookshanks. 'We would like to help you, if you would be so kind as to accompany us.' Remus inclines his head towards Minerva. 'You have already met my colleague while she was in her cat form, of course-- she is on our side, and never intended to deceive you.'

'Of course not,' Minerva says, offering her own fingers to Crookshanks and blinking slowly. 'I apologise if I startled you before, Crookshanks. I seem to have misjudged you.'

Crookshanks chirps at them and rubs his cheek against Minerva's fingers, then arches his back in a stretch and jumps daintily down from his perch on Hermione's knees, rubbing up against Remus's leg.

'I hope you don't mind if we borrow him for a bit,' Remus says to Hermione. 'I assure you we will take very good care of him.'

'Oh,' says Hermione, evidently feeling quite out of her depth. She exchanges a perplexed look with Harry, who shrugs. 'Of course, Professor Lupin.'

Remus thanks Hermione, and starts across the room once again, this time in search of Ron. 

Minerva catches at Remus's elbow and (in spite of the secrecy spells around them) keeps her voice very quiet as she speaks-- 'Remus, am I correct in thinking this rat may be an unregistered animagus?'

'Ah.' Remus smiles faintly, and there's a sharp edge to it, a hint of teeth. 'Yes, Professor, that is correct. I won't know for sure until I have seen him, though.'

'You don't think... not Sirius Black?'

Remus lets out a sharp laugh. 'Sirius? No, of course not; he was never the rat.' Minerva narrows her eyes at this peculiar choice of words, and Remus hesitates. '...Actually, Minerva, would you mind retrieving the Rat on your own? I suspect that my presence may spook him, and this room would offer him too many places to hide.'

Minerva glances around the crowded common room, and has to agree. 'Of course, Remus.'

'Much appreciated. I will wait just outside in the corridor, along with Crookshanks.' The cat meows agreeably, and Remus turns to go, Crookshanks leading the way towards the portrait hole with his tail held high.

Minerva finds Ron Weasley with a chessboard set out on the small table in front of him, a thick book containing move-by-move records of past matches propped open on his knee. He frowns, prodding a knight across the board as Minerva comes to a halt in front of his table. 'Mr Weasley,' she says, 'I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe you have a pet rat?'

---

When Minerva brings the Rat out into the corridor (safely secured within a sturdy transfigured cage) she knows at once by the look on Remus's face that his worst suspicions have been confirmed. The Rat, upon seeing Remus and Crookshanks, goes into a loud squealing panic-- so Remus had been right on that count, too. Fortunately, Minerva had spelled the cage to be Unbreakable, and had placed a ward upon it to prevent any transformations, so there is no risk of the Rat breaking free.

'Do you know who he is, Remus?'

'Yes-- but it must wait until Crookshanks has led us to his canine accomplice. I believe we will want both of them present for this.'

'Hmm.' Minerva peers down at the rat, carefully examining him from tattered ear to missing toe, drooping whiskers to patchy fur-- but she still hasn't the faintest idea who he might be. Minerva hates being kept in the dark like this, but there doesn't seem to be anything for it; when Crookshanks sets off down the corridor with Remus close on his tail, Minerva follows them.

Crookshanks swiftly leads them out of the castle and onto the grounds, the early December air bitterly cold and the sky already dark. A scant handful of tiny dry snowflakes sift down through the air, and their breath clouds visibly as they walk. Minerva shudders and casts a warming charm on her robes, but neither Crookshanks nor Remus seem to notice the chill.

At first, they seem to be heading towards Hagrid's hut (puzzling, as surely the mystery dog couldn't be one of Hagrid's creatures, not if he's as poorly cared for as he's been described) but soon enough they turn away from the warm glow of Hagrid's windows, trekking along the lakeshore towards the forest's edge. 

Crookshanks slows as they reach the trees, yowling into the night-- he pauses regularly to sniff at roots and tree-trunks, and continues his periodic long low meows as he leads them farther beneath the trees, their canopies creaking and whispering in the wind.

After several minutes, his call is answered-- a long mournful howl, definitely canine and (at least to Minerva's untrained ear) rather wolfish. Remus's head snaps around and he stares into the trees in the direction it had come from, every line of his body tense and alert. In this moment, in this place, it is easy to see the wildness in him, all of his carefully constructed walls crumpling like tissue. It had never really occurred to Minerva just how much Remus Lupin holds himself back, how little he lets himself be seen.

Crookshanks sits at the centre of the clearing, his tail curled around his front paws. Remus remains where he's stood a couple of paces back, as still as a statue. The rat has fallen silent, but Minerva can feel him trembling against the bars of his cage.

The dog materialises from the shadows like an apparition. He is larger than Minerva had expected, rather unsettlingly so-- easily large enough to overpower her physically if he reached her before she could get a spell off, even in spite of how frightfully thin he is (for the cats had not been wrong to describe him as half-starved; Minerva can clearly make out his spine and ribs even through the thick shaggy fur). And yet, he holds back, his pale eyes cautious as he hesitates just at the edge of the clearing.

Crookshanks is the first to move, crossing the clearing to rub up against the dog's side, purring loudly. Remus watches them pensively, now strangely calm in contrast to his earlier intensity, and the dog does not take his eyes off Remus's face except to shoot a brief glare at the Rat secured in Minerva's hands.

'We have located Peter,' Remus says without preamble, addressing the dog directly. 'I have my own theories about what really happened twelve years ago, of course, but I would like to hear the full story from you.' Remus sits on the frosty ground, his hands resting on his knees, both visibly empty. 'I assure you, I just want to talk.'

Before Minerva can begin to process any of this, or wonder precisely what Remus means, the dog huffs out a resigned breath-- and then the animal's outline twists and blurs and in the dog's place is Sirius Black.

'Don't, Minerva,' Remus says at once, in quiet warning, though he has not so much as glanced away from Black's gaunt face. Reluctantly, Minerva lets go of her wand. 'Crookshanks trusts him,' Remus murmurs, 'and remember that the cats were all quite sure of his innocence.' The forest is still and silent around them, as though the whole world has frozen in that moment. 'Listen.'

And Minerva does. She listens to their story, how Remus's three best friends had hatched a plan to become animagi so that they could help Remus with his lycanthropy, keep him company on the full moons-- Sirius had been the one to first propose it (exactly the sort of mad genius Minerva remembers as being characteristic of his spellwork and theoretical essays back in school) and then he and James had worked the spell out all on their own, pieced it together with only their own cleverness to guide them, and they had helped Peter Pettigrew with it too. She learns that they had pulled it off at the young age of fifteen-- younger than Minerva herself had been-- and once a month they had kept a werewolf company (it seems so clear in retrospect, as Minerva thinks back to how Remus's wounds had grown less severe with time, and his friends had looked exhausted on those days following each full). Minerva wants to tell them off, for attempting something so dangerous and reckless and foolish, but she also feels immensely proud of them-- her boys who had risked so much for the sake of a friend, accomplished something so difficult and remarkable.

Peter Pettigrew had been a rat. Still is a rat, now held in Minerva's own hands. Minerva is still reeling from that particular revelation-- he had been the Potters' secret-keeper, not Sirius, and he had willingly given them up to Voldemort. Minerva casts the Homorphus Charm on the rat, and sure enough, Peter Pettigrew materialises before their eyes (a strange muffled noise comes from the trees to her left, but she's too busy casting wards and restraints over Pettigrew to think anything of it). They give Pettigrew a chance to recount his side of what happened, but everything he says is a lie; none of those present are in any mood to listen to his pathetic snivelling excuses and he is swiftly hit with a silencing charm.

In a voice rusty with disuse and wracked with emotion, Sirius recounts how Pettigrew had been passing information to the Death Eaters for at least a year prior to the casting of the Fidelius, a fact which Sirius had only learnt from the ramblings of half-mad Death Eaters after he was sentenced to Azkaban. Pettigrew had been responsible for a whole string of ambushes and deaths among the Order during that timeframe-- Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes, Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick-- Minerva's nostrils flare as she draws in a sharp breath; she will personally ensure that Pettigrew will face the appropriate consequences for his crimes if it's the last thing she does. Not a single one of them had ever suspected round-faced and mild-mannered Peter of such a horrific betrayal, and Sirius had convinced James and Lily to make Peter the secret-keeper instead of him, as he was too obvious as James's best friend and adoptive brother. He'd thought it was clever-- and it would have been, had Peter Pettigrew remained loyal to his old friends... or even retained the smallest sliver of integrity.

'He wasn't at his hideout-- deserted, and no sign of a struggle,' Sirius whispers. His mass of black hair hangs around the sharp ridges of his shoulders like a ragged shroud. 'I knew then that something had gone horribly wrong-- I went to Godric's Hollow, to their house. It was--' Sirius's eyes are haunted, and he chokes on the words. '...Hagrid was there; he wouldn't let me have Harry-- I should have had Harry; I swore to James and Lily I would keep him safe if anything happened to them, but-- but Hagrid said-- Dumbledore said--'

Minerva definitely hears something in the trees to her side, this time like a stifled gasp, or perhaps a sob. She flicks her wandlight towards the noise, but sees nothing. She frowns in suspicion, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

'So you went after Peter instead,' says Remus (unaware of Minerva's observations). Sirius nods, mutely. 'And I assume that was when he accused you.'

'That vermin,' Sirius spits, the venom in his words making Pettigrew flinch. 'He cut off his own finger, and fired a blasting curse behind his back, and then transformed and fled. That's the last thing I remember-- his tail slipping away into the rubble.'

'And an animagus's shift from human to animal leaves no detectable magical trace,' Remus says quietly. 'Unlike apparition or other teleportation spells. A perfect cover-up...'

Minerva listens, and learns that Sirius had confessed not because he was the traitor, but because switching secret-keepers had been his idea, and to this day he blames himself for the untimely deaths of two of his best friends, his chosen family. He had endured twelve long years of indescribable torment in Azkaban, knowing he was innocent yet believing he deserved the punishment all the same. And he would have stayed there, only he had seen a picture of Pettigrew in a borrowed newspaper, and had realised that the rat was perfectly poised to harm his godson as soon as the opportunity arose.

'I know Harry doesn't want me around,' Sirius croaks. 'But I had to act. I swore I'd protect him, at any cost.' Minerva bites her lip, and tries not to think of what Sirius imagined he might do after he'd taken care of Pettigrew (if he even had a plan at all).

Remus, who has been looking increasingly on edge throughout the conversation, has evidently reached his limit-- he lurches upright and crosses the clearing to where Sirius is sat shivering in his tattered prison rags, Crookshanks curled against his bare ankles-- Remus pulls Sirius to his feet and folds him into a tight embrace, which is very likely the first human contact Sirius has felt in over a decade. Sirius gasps for air, and his skeletal hands twist into the fabric of Remus's robes, and he turns his head to press his nose against the warm skin just below Remus's ear. Remus holds him (heedless of his undeniably filthy hair and robes) and rubs a hand up and down his back, as though willing warmth and vitality back into his emaciated frame. Minerva can't help but smile; in spite of the tragedy they have endured, they have at last found a moment of peace, and things can only improve from here.

A twig snaps; Minerva scowls and in one fluid movement she whips her wand up. 'Hominem revelio,' she says, and six lines of amber light emerge from the tip of her wand-- two arc towards Remus and Sirius, one dropping to where Pettigrew is bound up on the forest floor, and the last three track towards the suspicious stand of trees to her left. A startled yelp emanates from the apparently empty patch of forest, and Minerva follows up with a silent impedimenta flicked towards the invisible onlookers.

'Bloody hell,' mutters one voice (which sounds suspiciously like Ron Weasley).

'Quiet!' hisses another (this one rather like Hermione Granger).

Minerva stalks over to them, reaches out until her fingers brush against silky lightweight fabric-- and then she pulls the invisibility cloak away, revealing Harry, Ron and Hermione, all looking up at her with the familiar guilty panic of students caught out of bounds.

She fixes them with her most strict and imperious stare. 'What on Earth do you three think you're doing out here?!'

---

Under the circumstances, Minerva doesn't have the heart to go too hard on them (as she's aware they were concerned for Ron's pet and had only good intentions) but she obviously can't let them off free either (as good intentions don't change the fact that they were caught out of bounds in an area known to be dangerous). She docks them ten points each, and informs them that they will each be assigned detentions at a later date.

For the moment, though, they are escorted back up to the castle, with a promise of hot chocolate and a more in-depth explanation. Sirius shifts back into his canine form before they leave the forest (both for secrecy and, Minerva suspects, for warmth; just looking at his unshod feet makes her shiver) and both Crookshanks and Remus stay close upon either side-- Remus has one hand resting on the dog's head, his thumb gently rubbing at Sirius's large triangular ears. They will have a lot to sort out over the coming weeks and months, but Minerva is hopeful that they will pull through and be able to support one another; the strength of their bond has never been in question, and it is quite clear that even after all their time apart, there is still a deep undercurrent of love between them.

Minerva personally accepts the duty of levitating Pettigrew along, the latter still firmly restrained under a Full Body Petrification curse and anti-transformation wards, as well as the physical cords binding his limbs. Minerva intends to take no chances with the man escaping again-- he will face justice as he should have done twelve years ago. Soon enough, Minerva will take the matter up with Professor Dumbledore-- but in the morning, once she's had a chance to owl Amelia Bones at the DMLE. While Minerva does trust Dumbledore's judgement in most things, he has been dreadfully wrong with regards to this particular matter before, just as she isn't entirely sure he has ever had Harry's best interests at heart (she still has strong doubts about the wisdom of leaving him with the Dursleys). Minerva knows that Bones will review Pettigrew's case fairly and without bias or ulterior motives, ensuring that Sirius receives all due process as he did not at the time of his original 'conviction'. 

Harry keeps sneaking glances at Sirius as they walk-- he must have a lot of questions, particularly after the revelation that Sirius is (in theory at least) his legal guardian. His expression is inscrutable, though, and Minerva cannot begin to guess at his thoughts on the matter.

'Are you quite all right, Mr Potter?' she inquires. 'I know all of this must be a terrible shock for you.'

'Er-- I'm fine.' She quirks an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. 'Really, Professor.'

'You're not at all bothered by this business with Sirius Black?'

'No-- well, I was just thinking how I don't actually know anything about him, especially if everything they said in the papers is wrong.' Harry frowns pensively. '...I'd like to, I think. Get to know him, I mean. If I get the chance.'

'I'm sure you will,' Minerva says encouragingly.

---

Back in Minerva's office, once Pettigrew has been safely secured (locked within a large storage cupboard at the back of the office and placed under additional wards and alarm-spells) and they are all settled around the fireplace with large mugs of hot cocoa summoned from the kitchens (and a saucer of warm milk for Crookshanks), Minerva endeavours to clarify the night's events for the students.

Ron is, understandably, quite troubled by the revelation that his pet rat truly had been a man all along-- that there had never been a 'real Scabbers' to impersonate, and there is simply no way around it. Ron is also rather put out to learn that he had technically been right about Crookshanks after all, but only in the least satisfactory way possible-- Crookshanks had in fact targeted Scabbers specifically, but only because he was an animagus masquerading as a rat.

Hermione and Ron exchange apologies-- Minerva gets the feeling that this matter has been an ongoing source of strife between the two friends, and Harry seems relieved that they've worked it out.

Remus says very little, only adding occasional details as needed. Sirius says nothing at all, and looks rather as though he isn't entirely sure what is happening or how he came to be here-- Minerva had given him a few blankets, which he has folded around himself, leaving only the upper half of his face visible. He sits shoulder to shoulder with Remus, both of them leaning into one another, Crookshanks purring across Sirius's feet.

'Is it true, then?' asks Ron, regarding Remus nervously. 'You're a... a werewolf?'

Sirius stiffens, but Remus puts a hand on his bony ankle and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 'That's right,' Remus says mildly, 'since I was four.' He smiles kindly, though Minerva thinks it looks rather forced. 'Dumbledore reached out to my family and assured us that I would still have a place at the school.'

'Which is precisely as it should be,' Minerva adds pointedly, seeing the uncertainty still evident on Ron's face. 'I must assure the three of you that Professor Lupin is quite safe-- careful precautions have been taken to manage his symptoms on the night of the full moon, and on every other night of the month he is no more dangerous than I.'

Ron's cheeks flush and he looks away; Hermione frowns thoughtfully, while Harry simply looks perplexed. Remus shoots Minerva a grateful glance, his hand still wrapped firmly around Sirius's ankle, his thumb tracing small circles around the jutting nub of bone on the side. 'There is a potion-- a new invention,' Remus says (probably for Sirius's benefit more than anyone else's). 'If I take it every day in the week before the full moon, I am able to keep my human mind while I am transformed.'

The look Sirius gives him is wide-eyed, amazed, with a slightly deranged edge to it-- Remus smiles back at him, warm and reassuring.

'So that's the potion you were drinking that time I had tea in your office!' Harry blurts out. 'I thought for sure Snape was trying to poison you!'

Remus bursts out laughing at this, but Sirius looks mutinous. 'Snape?!' he exclaims furiously. 'What was that bastard doing here?'

Ron gapes at Sirius in wonder, as though he's just announced that he single-handedly won the Quidditch World Cup for England. Harry also eyes him with new respect. Remus shakes his head, still smiling, and whispers 'Not now, Pads.'

Minerva clears her throat. 'In any case, I hope the three of you will be circumspect about this. While both myself and Professor Dumbledore are confident that Professor Lupin poses no danger to any students here, many parents would not be so open-minded.'

'Of course we won't tell anyone!' says Harry, who appears affronted by the very notion. 'Professor Lupin is the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had-- one of the best teachers in any subject!' Ron, ever loyal, nods along, his shoulders finally relaxing, and Remus's ears flush pink at the praise.

Hermione, however, is still frowning. 'But... what about that werewolf essay Snape tried to make us do? It was like he wanted one of us to figure it out...'

This time, both Sirius and Minerva turn to Remus in outrage. 'He what?' 

Remus winces. 'I'm... quite sure Hermione was the only one who did it,' he says. He looks resigned, though; it's a weak attempt at a deflection and he knows it.

'But I might not have been!' says Hermione. 'And it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out, once I had all the information laid out. All it takes is a quick review of the lunar calendar to realise your illnesses always fall right around the full, and our whole class saw that your Boggart is the moon.'

'I thought that was a crystal ball,' Harry mumbles sheepishly.

Minerva presses her lips into a thin line. 'Well. I shall have to Have A Word with Snape. You really ought to have reported this, Remus; Dumbledore was quite clear that all of the staff were to treat you with all due respect as a colleague. This behaviour is simply not acceptable.' Especially considering that there's no way Snape could have had a whole day off to cover all of Remus's lessons-- had he cancelled his own entirely, or found someone else to take them simply so he could interfere with Remus's career...? 

Minerva turns to Hermione. 'In any case, your insights are much appreciated, Miss Granger. For the moment, however, it's time you all returned to Gryffindor Tower and went to bed.' But then she catches Harry's eye-- and Sirius's-- and adds, 'On second thought, I believe Mr Weasley could use a Dreamless Sleep potion, after the shock of losing his pet. Would you please accompany him to the Hospital Wing, Miss Granger?' 

Hermione agrees, and she and Ron leave. Harry hovers behind, clearly unsure whether or not he's meant to go with them. 

'Mr Potter,' Minerva says softly, prompting him to stop and look back at her. 'I thought you might appreciate the chance to have a quick word with Sirius.'

Minerva can see from the looks on all their faces that this was the right choice. She retreats to her desk to give them a bit of privacy. Crookshanks saunters over and leaps delicately up to her desk, sitting down on top of the stack of essays she had set out for grading earlier. She quirks an eyebrow at him, and he narrows his eyes and begins to purr.

'Yes, you're quite right,' Minerva says, reaching out to scratch his chin as Harry enthusiastically accepts Sirius's offer for a different home, one far removed from his horrid aunt and uncle. Sirius smiles-- genuinely grins-- for what's probably the first time in twelve years. Of course, they still have a lot of work ahead of them before that can become a reality, but Minerva has no intention of backing down until all of their efforts have succeeded. She smiles, and selects a ginger newt from the tin on her desk-- and when Remus's fingertips brush up against the back of Sirius's wrist as they bid Harry good night (with the promise of a dinner together sometime in the next few days, so they can get to know each other properly) and Sirius responds by slipping his arms around Remus and pulling him close for another hug, Minerva gives Crookshanks a conspiratorial wink. 'I do believe we have done rather well for ourselves.'

Crookshanks narrows his eyes into contented slits, and begins to purr.